"Oh, um, no I don't Dormark, sorry. I do have this." Baern pulls out a small gem. "It should be worth around 10 gold, but not in Barovia, apparently." "You can have the five gold I have, if you need it."
Baern rests for a while but once he is feeling better, and if no one needs him for anything else, he can be seen completely immersed in testing out his new magic. Although he is silent, keeping his enthusiasm stifled given the group's circumstances, he cannot hide the wonder in his eyes. The young dwarf finds crumbled stone and shards of wood from broken furniture and slowly begins to mend them with magic, little by little.
"Hmm, fair trade then," he says taking the gem and putting it in his pack. Opening his coin bag he pulls out 10 gold. Spending an hour concentrating he sets the 10 coins on the ground. After the hour a spiritual hammer appears in his hand and he hits the coins with it. The coins transform into a regular shield. He then takes the shield to Baern and says, "Here you go, I hope that helps in the next encounter." Dormark giving the shield over to him.
He then wanders over the Sandu and says, "You doing alright Sandu?"
Despite the meagre conditions of the room provided, Ioben sleeps deeply, his body and mind recovering from the encounters of the day. Still, in his dreams, he hears the voices, as if from a far distance, calling out. Some seemed to even be aware of him, calling for his help in particular.
Upon rising, Ioben utters a blessing to Tymora and heads back out into the common areas to meet up with the rest of the group.
"Oh wow, that was amazing Dormark!" Baern takes the shield, holds it properly on his arm and tests the weight. "Thank you. This is amazing!" He begins testing the weight and balance of it in different battle stances. "It's perfect! I'm not old enough to officially join our clan's shield warriors quite yet, but my brothers have been teaching me. I'll be ready!"
Alder sleeps, his long, heavy frame stretched along an ancient wood pew. It is not a dreamless sleep, but rather one marked by moments of frantic twitching in his arms, his face, his legs as his body seeks to react to whatever remembered battle is replaying itself in his mind. Despite the nightmares, it is the sleep that has marked his life for many a year now, and he awakes with all the refreshment that he ever does. Not feeling overly social, nor comfortable around these others, Alder takes the time to simply wander the church and its grounds, his worn coat pulled close around him to ward off the wind and chill. His eye is ever wary, not convinced that the strange figures he saw in the fog are gone, or that the threat of some new sending of Strahd is gone. The memory of the messenger's arrival and the cutting pain that exploded in his mind is still too fresh, too disturbing for his guard to relax.
It seemed that the frantic ordeal had passed. It would be an understatement to say that Sandu was not having a good day. As it stood, barely half a day had passed and he already wanted to crawl back into a bed and write it all off as a bad dream. Unfortunately, it was reality that had turned into a nightmare.
Sandu kept to himself as the others spread out a bit. Most of them mucked about a bit, clearly shaken by what had transpired. Though it was amusing to see Dormark somehow hammer a shield out of a stack of coins. Maybe there was something to this whole god-given powers shtick clerics had going on. That did remind him: when Strahd was in his head, he mentioned someone called the Morninglord. He was not entirely sure, he never really paid much heed to religion, but Sandu recalled that Morninglord was the common epithet for Lathandar, god of the dawn. Did that mean Barovia was part of Faerûn? That would mean that there must be a way back home, right?
He decided not to focus on those questions. Those were questions for future Sandu and if today had learned him anything, it is that future Sandu is not a certainty anymore. But he did recall something else: Lathandar was a god that vehemently stood against the undead and would lend his favour to those who did so likewise. Perhaps there was something in this church that could aid them? He had little faith in actually finding something but keeping busy kept his mind off what had happened. Thus Sandu subjected the church to a thorough inspection, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that stuck out.
He then wanders over the Sandu and says, "You doing alright Sandu?"
Sandu looked up. Dormark had wandered over to him. 'I'm fine.'Sandu replied. 'Some rest and quiet and I'll bounce right back. Just need to clear my mind a bit.' He rummaged a bit through whatever was in front of him. Ironic, Sandu thought to himself, the most human connection I'm having is with the most non-human one here.
He looked back at Dormark. He felt like he ought to say something. 'How are you holding up?' Sandu eventually settled on asking.
Seeing the danger has gone for the moment, Valerie finds a spot near a window where she can view the night sky. Then she sighs when she looks up since the sky is nothing but fog.
Knowing that she will not be able to see the stars now, she begins to take out her armor and patches up the cut wounds from the fight. She begins to ponder the same question about why they are here.
Seeing the danger has gone for the moment, Valerie finds a spot near a window where she can view the night sky. Then she sighs when she looks up since the sky is nothing but fog.
Knowing that she will not be able to see the stars now, she begins to take out her armor and patches up the cut wounds from the fight. She begins to ponder the same question about why they are here.
“Fine, I’m just glad all of us are still standing. Today was a tough day, but I think we will pull out stronger for it,” says Dormark looking over at Sandu. “... My guess of things we are in it for the long haul, and I think I’ve heard a bit about everyone’s background except yours & Ioben’s. So who are you Sandu, if I may ask,” he says inquisitively
The day moves on as the party go about their business. The quietness during this period is almost as unnerving as the action they had experienced earlier in the day. Evening begins to set in and the sun starts to set in the sky. Ismark and Ireena clear a spot in the centre of the main hall, placing loose stones in a circle and using parts of smashed pew as kindling they create a make-shift fire.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Investigation 12
Sandu was about to focus back on the task at hand when he heard Dormark speak up.
So who are you Sandu, if I may ask,” he says inquisitively
'That's easy.'He replied. 'I'm-'
Sandu paused. No one had ever asked that question. He had often asked the question himself but he had very little to go on.
Rain. It was raining that day. It always seemed to be raining. The world was smaller back then. There was the orphanage, my room and, if it ever stopped raining, the garden. I liked the garden. It added a splotch of colour to the drab of the walls. I was in my room when she called. Miss Esther. She was harsh. I guess anyone responsible for running the sinking ship we called home would turn harsh eventually. But I liked her. When the rain passed and flowers were placed around the rooms, she would smile. She had a beautiful smile. But it was raining that day and there were no flowers.
'You're of age now, Sandu, so I'm not going to mince words.' Miss Esther used her stern voice. The voice she reserved only for the gravest of things. Like the cook skimping on vegetables. Or Susie taking cookies from the top shelf. It meant she was angry. That's what I thought at first. Only later did I learn it meant she was disappointed. Like she was now. 'You've outgrown the system. We can no longer afford to keep you. I'm sorry.' She sounded distraught. I believed her. She handed me a piece of paper. It detailed everything there was to know about me. It barely filled half a page. The other thing she handed me was a tiny silver raven dangling from a silver chain. It was the only thing I had when they had found me on the steps. She had held on to it for all these years. Anyone else would have immediately sold it but it was mine, Miss Esther said, and therefore it was my choice to do with it what I desired.
That was all. A slip of paper to keep me out of jail and a piece of jewelry. That was all there was to my person. I would have laughed if I wasn't crying. I hugged Miss Esther. She did not expect that. She hugged me back. It was the most warmth I felt. I left her office. There was little anyone could do. I had until the end of the week to collect my things and say goodbye to everyone. I left before the sun had risen. It was raining that day...
'-Sandu.' He finished his reply. 'Just Sandu.'He wiped his sleeve across his face. There was no time for rain.
'What about you, metal guy?' Sandu continued shoving dirt and debris aside as he searched. 'Did you walk out the forge that way or did they put you together piece by piece?'
OOC: Don't know why it says the roll has been tampered with as I merely edited some text. The result was and is 12.
"Hmmm, very well Sandu, if that is all you want to say... for me... I guess you could say was all I remember when before I was made was blackness, then I was there standing before short things I didn't recognize saying something I didn't understand. I was a new being born into the world, I couldn't comprehend it at all. All I know was I was there. The next day, the things... the Dwarves took me into a room and said a few words and showed me how to feed coals to the forge. They then gave me a shovel and said those words again. I quickly realized what they wanted me to do and did what they needed. That was how I learned, orders to do tasks. Those days I would work endlessly since I didn't need to sleep, so I quickly picked up and improved on tasks. One year, after being made I was forging things at the forge, making weapons. It was during that year that the elder priest, Beorn Hiltsmasher took interest in me. At the time I could comprehend a good amount of Dwarvish, but that was all that was there. There was no other drive there, except for the forge. I don't know if you would understand, but the drive to perfect what I was doing was all that I had. That Dwarf looked at the weapons I made and said to me, 'A machine with no soul could not produced blades such as these. Tell me Dormark what do you want.' A simple question halted my hammer that day, made me mess up a blade that I was working on all day ruined... but that was the most... the most important day for me, because it was the first day I said anything. That day I asked, 'I want to know what I am.' ... sorry if it was a bit long winded. I thought it could help understand me a bit better. Being made of metal... I often question whether or not I have the same spark of life as the rest of you or I might be... something else," says Dormark sharing a bit of his story with Sandu.
Sandu - ((not to worry I think any editing remotely near the dice roll throws up that warning!)) During the course of your wandering around the church you come across a small room you believe to be an office of sorts. An old desk and chair stand against the south wall, a wooden holy symbol mounted above them — a sunburst. A ten-foot-long iron rod attached to the north wall stands bare, suggesting a tapestry once hung there. Against the far wall stands a wooden cabinet with four tall doors. As you check out the wooden cabinet you find a tinderbox, a few wooden boxes full of candles, and two well-used books: Hymns to the Dawn, a volume of chants to the Morninglord, and The Blade of Truth: The Uses of Logic in the War Against Diabolist Heresies, as Fought by the Ulmist Inquisition, a strange book that mixes logic exercises with lurid descriptions of fiend-worshipping cults.
Alder - As the evening wears on an eerie green light suffuses the graveyard. From this light emerges a ghostly procession. Wavering images of doughty women toting greatswords, woodwise men with slender bows, an old dwarven lady, and archaically dressed mages with beards and strange, pointed hats — all these and more march forth from the graveyard, their numbers growing by the second.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
His wandering producing little in the way of release or enlightenment, Alder convinces himself to return to the church. Perhaps a bit of food would help. However, just as he turns to go, a dim glimmer of green catches his eye. He watches in confusion and trepidation as the green glow suffuses the graveyard. As the eerie figures begin to come forth, he backs away, his hand dropping into his coat to fall on his axe.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Religion 13
Sandu brushed the dirt from his clothes. He turned to face Dormark. He felt a bit uneasy after the Warforged's cavalcade of words: no one in their right mind would just pour out their entire history at such a slight provocation. It made him strangely endearing, like a child who did not know any better. Sandu was not familiar enough with Dwarvish culture and practices, he had picked up the language but that was it, but there was something at the end that he picked up on.
'You must be the worst priest I've ever met.' Sandu replied. His voice was sincere and bereft of any insult. 'Is faith not just accepting truths without evidence? Do the gods not exist simply because we believe in them?'
He walked towards Dormark until he he was within arm's reach. Sandu looked him in the eyes, though he had to tilt his head to do so. 'If you believe you have a soul, you have a soul.'
Sandu bumped his fist against Dormark's shoulder. 'Have some faith in yourself.'He told the metal man as he passed him.
Once behind Dormark's back, Sandu slid his hand into his pocket. His knuckles hurt: he had hit Dormark harder than he intended. He walked to where the others were, hoping to sit down for an evening of quiet reading with the two books he had found. Pilfered? Filched? Purloined.
Nodding his head he stands up and goes to Baern he walks up to and asks, “Do you have 10 gold coins?”
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
"Oh, um, no I don't Dormark, sorry. I do have this." Baern pulls out a small gem. "It should be worth around 10 gold, but not in Barovia, apparently." "You can have the five gold I have, if you need it."
Baern rests for a while but once he is feeling better, and if no one needs him for anything else, he can be seen completely immersed in testing out his new magic. Although he is silent, keeping his enthusiasm stifled given the group's circumstances, he cannot hide the wonder in his eyes. The young dwarf finds crumbled stone and shards of wood from broken furniture and slowly begins to mend them with magic, little by little.
"Hmm, fair trade then," he says taking the gem and putting it in his pack. Opening his coin bag he pulls out 10 gold. Spending an hour concentrating he sets the 10 coins on the ground. After the hour a spiritual hammer appears in his hand and he hits the coins with it. The coins transform into a regular shield. He then takes the shield to Baern and says, "Here you go, I hope that helps in the next encounter." Dormark giving the shield over to him.
He then wanders over the Sandu and says, "You doing alright Sandu?"
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Despite the meagre conditions of the room provided, Ioben sleeps deeply, his body and mind recovering from the encounters of the day. Still, in his dreams, he hears the voices, as if from a far distance, calling out. Some seemed to even be aware of him, calling for his help in particular.
Upon rising, Ioben utters a blessing to Tymora and heads back out into the common areas to meet up with the rest of the group.
"Oh wow, that was amazing Dormark!" Baern takes the shield, holds it properly on his arm and tests the weight. "Thank you. This is amazing!" He begins testing the weight and balance of it in different battle stances. "It's perfect! I'm not old enough to officially join our clan's shield warriors quite yet, but my brothers have been teaching me. I'll be ready!"
Alder sleeps, his long, heavy frame stretched along an ancient wood pew. It is not a dreamless sleep, but rather one marked by moments of frantic twitching in his arms, his face, his legs as his body seeks to react to whatever remembered battle is replaying itself in his mind. Despite the nightmares, it is the sleep that has marked his life for many a year now, and he awakes with all the refreshment that he ever does. Not feeling overly social, nor comfortable around these others, Alder takes the time to simply wander the church and its grounds, his worn coat pulled close around him to ward off the wind and chill. His eye is ever wary, not convinced that the strange figures he saw in the fog are gone, or that the threat of some new sending of Strahd is gone. The memory of the messenger's arrival and the cutting pain that exploded in his mind is still too fresh, too disturbing for his guard to relax.
It seemed that the frantic ordeal had passed. It would be an understatement to say that Sandu was not having a good day. As it stood, barely half a day had passed and he already wanted to crawl back into a bed and write it all off as a bad dream. Unfortunately, it was reality that had turned into a nightmare.
Sandu kept to himself as the others spread out a bit. Most of them mucked about a bit, clearly shaken by what had transpired. Though it was amusing to see Dormark somehow hammer a shield out of a stack of coins. Maybe there was something to this whole god-given powers shtick clerics had going on. That did remind him: when Strahd was in his head, he mentioned someone called the Morninglord. He was not entirely sure, he never really paid much heed to religion, but Sandu recalled that Morninglord was the common epithet for Lathandar, god of the dawn. Did that mean Barovia was part of Faerûn? That would mean that there must be a way back home, right?
He decided not to focus on those questions. Those were questions for future Sandu and if today had learned him anything, it is that future Sandu is not a certainty anymore. But he did recall something else: Lathandar was a god that vehemently stood against the undead and would lend his favour to those who did so likewise. Perhaps there was something in this church that could aid them? He had little faith in actually finding something but keeping busy kept his mind off what had happened. Thus Sandu subjected the church to a thorough inspection, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that stuck out.
Sandu looked up. Dormark had wandered over to him. 'I'm fine.' Sandu replied. 'Some rest and quiet and I'll bounce right back. Just need to clear my mind a bit.' He rummaged a bit through whatever was in front of him. Ironic, Sandu thought to himself, the most human connection I'm having is with the most non-human one here.
He looked back at Dormark. He felt like he ought to say something. 'How are you holding up?' Sandu eventually settled on asking.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
Seeing the danger has gone for the moment, Valerie finds a spot near a window where she can view the night sky. Then she sighs when she looks up since the sky is nothing but fog.
Knowing that she will not be able to see the stars now, she begins to take out her armor and patches up the cut wounds from the fight. She begins to ponder the same question about why they are here.
Seeing the danger has gone for the moment, Valerie finds a spot near a window where she can view the night sky. Then she sighs when she looks up since the sky is nothing but fog.
Knowing that she will not be able to see the stars now, she begins to take out her armor and patches up the cut wounds from the fight. She begins to ponder the same question about why they are here.
“Fine, I’m just glad all of us are still standing. Today was a tough day, but I think we will pull out stronger for it,” says Dormark looking over at Sandu. “... My guess of things we are in it for the long haul, and I think I’ve heard a bit about everyone’s background except yours & Ioben’s. So who are you Sandu, if I may ask,” he says inquisitively
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
The day moves on as the party go about their business. The quietness during this period is almost as unnerving as the action they had experienced earlier in the day. Evening begins to set in and the sun starts to set in the sky. Ismark and Ireena clear a spot in the centre of the main hall, placing loose stones in a circle and using parts of smashed pew as kindling they create a make-shift fire.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Sandu - can I have an Investigation check as you check the church?
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
If there's a moment when Father Donavich isn't within earshot, Baern asks the others "so do you think we can help Doru?"
Investigation 12
Sandu was about to focus back on the task at hand when he heard Dormark speak up.
'That's easy.' He replied. 'I'm-'
Sandu paused. No one had ever asked that question. He had often asked the question himself but he had very little to go on.
Rain. It was raining that day. It always seemed to be raining. The world was smaller back then. There was the orphanage, my room and, if it ever stopped raining, the garden. I liked the garden. It added a splotch of colour to the drab of the walls. I was in my room when she called. Miss Esther. She was harsh. I guess anyone responsible for running the sinking ship we called home would turn harsh eventually. But I liked her. When the rain passed and flowers were placed around the rooms, she would smile. She had a beautiful smile. But it was raining that day and there were no flowers.
'You're of age now, Sandu, so I'm not going to mince words.' Miss Esther used her stern voice. The voice she reserved only for the gravest of things. Like the cook skimping on vegetables. Or Susie taking cookies from the top shelf. It meant she was angry. That's what I thought at first. Only later did I learn it meant she was disappointed. Like she was now.
'You've outgrown the system. We can no longer afford to keep you. I'm sorry.' She sounded distraught. I believed her. She handed me a piece of paper. It detailed everything there was to know about me. It barely filled half a page. The other thing she handed me was a tiny silver raven dangling from a silver chain. It was the only thing I had when they had found me on the steps. She had held on to it for all these years. Anyone else would have immediately sold it but it was mine, Miss Esther said, and therefore it was my choice to do with it what I desired.
That was all. A slip of paper to keep me out of jail and a piece of jewelry. That was all there was to my person. I would have laughed if I wasn't crying. I hugged Miss Esther. She did not expect that. She hugged me back. It was the most warmth I felt. I left her office. There was little anyone could do. I had until the end of the week to collect my things and say goodbye to everyone. I left before the sun had risen. It was raining that day...
'-Sandu.' He finished his reply. 'Just Sandu.' He wiped his sleeve across his face. There was no time for rain.
'What about you, metal guy?' Sandu continued shoving dirt and debris aside as he searched. 'Did you walk out the forge that way or did they put you together piece by piece?'
OOC: Don't know why it says the roll has been tampered with as I merely edited some text. The result was and is 12.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
Valerie makes a long sigh. "I don't know if we can or not. But I want to at least try to." She says with determination on her face.
"Hmmm, very well Sandu, if that is all you want to say... for me... I guess you could say was all I remember when before I was made was blackness, then I was there standing before short things I didn't recognize saying something I didn't understand. I was a new being born into the world, I couldn't comprehend it at all. All I know was I was there. The next day, the things... the Dwarves took me into a room and said a few words and showed me how to feed coals to the forge. They then gave me a shovel and said those words again. I quickly realized what they wanted me to do and did what they needed. That was how I learned, orders to do tasks. Those days I would work endlessly since I didn't need to sleep, so I quickly picked up and improved on tasks. One year, after being made I was forging things at the forge, making weapons. It was during that year that the elder priest, Beorn Hiltsmasher took interest in me. At the time I could comprehend a good amount of Dwarvish, but that was all that was there. There was no other drive there, except for the forge. I don't know if you would understand, but the drive to perfect what I was doing was all that I had. That Dwarf looked at the weapons I made and said to me, 'A machine with no soul could not produced blades such as these. Tell me Dormark what do you want.' A simple question halted my hammer that day, made me mess up a blade that I was working on all day ruined... but that was the most... the most important day for me, because it was the first day I said anything. That day I asked, 'I want to know what I am.' ... sorry if it was a bit long winded. I thought it could help understand me a bit better. Being made of metal... I often question whether or not I have the same spark of life as the rest of you or I might be... something else," says Dormark sharing a bit of his story with Sandu.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Sandu - ((not to worry I think any editing remotely near the dice roll throws up that warning!)) During the course of your wandering around the church you come across a small room you believe to be an office of sorts. An old desk and chair stand against the south wall, a wooden holy symbol mounted above them — a sunburst. A ten-foot-long iron rod attached to the north wall stands bare, suggesting a tapestry once hung there. Against the far wall stands a wooden cabinet with four tall doors. As you check out the wooden cabinet you find a tinderbox, a few wooden boxes full of candles, and two well-used books: Hymns to the Dawn, a volume of chants to the Morninglord, and The Blade of Truth: The Uses of Logic in the War Against Diabolist Heresies, as Fought by the Ulmist Inquisition, a strange book that mixes logic exercises with lurid descriptions of fiend-worshipping cults.
Please can you perform a Religion check.
Alder - As the evening wears on an eerie green light suffuses the graveyard. From this light emerges a ghostly procession. Wavering images of doughty women toting greatswords, woodwise men with slender bows, an old dwarven lady, and archaically dressed mages with beards and strange, pointed hats — all these and more march forth from the graveyard, their numbers growing by the second.
Please can you perform a Perception check.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Baern tells Valerie "I'll help, in the morning, if I can." He seems to be a good deal uncertain about his ability to help, but is eager as always.
His wandering producing little in the way of release or enlightenment, Alder convinces himself to return to the church. Perhaps a bit of food would help. However, just as he turns to go, a dim glimmer of green catches his eye. He watches in confusion and trepidation as the green glow suffuses the graveyard. As the eerie figures begin to come forth, he backs away, his hand dropping into his coat to fall on his axe.
6 Perception
Religion 13
Sandu brushed the dirt from his clothes. He turned to face Dormark. He felt a bit uneasy after the Warforged's cavalcade of words: no one in their right mind would just pour out their entire history at such a slight provocation. It made him strangely endearing, like a child who did not know any better. Sandu was not familiar enough with Dwarvish culture and practices, he had picked up the language but that was it, but there was something at the end that he picked up on.
'You must be the worst priest I've ever met.' Sandu replied. His voice was sincere and bereft of any insult. 'Is faith not just accepting truths without evidence? Do the gods not exist simply because we believe in them?'
He walked towards Dormark until he he was within arm's reach. Sandu looked him in the eyes, though he had to tilt his head to do so. 'If you believe you have a soul, you have a soul.'
Sandu bumped his fist against Dormark's shoulder. 'Have some faith in yourself.' He told the metal man as he passed him.
Once behind Dormark's back, Sandu slid his hand into his pocket. His knuckles hurt: he had hit Dormark harder than he intended. He walked to where the others were, hoping to sit down for an evening of quiet reading with the two books he had found. Pilfered? Filched? Purloined.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus