Alex is shook out of his revelry (i think i'm using the right word here...)
"it was a long dagger, that seemed to have an aura power. you could tell it was magic, just by being within 100 feet or so of it. it looked plain enough, with a metal blade, about yay long (Alex extends his arms to a distance of about a foot and a half), and had a simple leather wrapped hilt. there was a small amethyst shard below the hilt."
(DM, what weapons in this world fit the description given?)
”So, why don’t you put down that quill and tell us your story? While you’re at it, you can cook us up something special. I’m getting hungry enough that bone and gristle is starting to become appetizing.”
To Flindrinkin, Ambrose is beginning to look like a side of yak. (jk)
The tip of the pen freezes with a harsh jerk. Ambrose gives it a confused glance, then sets it aside.
"Well, I'm afraid that the telling of 'my story' will be a tad, how shall we put it, difficult, for you see, I do not have a story, I have many. And not all of them are true, not all of them are right. Many are not for polite company, if you know what I mean. So, I'll do my best, but it may take me a moment to think of how to tell it right. In the meantime, I think it's time I begin with a bit of multi-tasking. Like so -"
Ambrose unpacks the rations and, aided by his spice pack, sets a small pot over a meager flame to boil a bit of the falling snow. Into the pot follow a square of congealed stock, handily packed in tight parchment, as well as a healthy dash of pepper, ginger, cinnamon, turmeric, paprika, and saffron. Once these flavors explode within the pot, a healthy portion of salted pork enters, along with a small onion and two potatoes, deftly peeled and sliced thin.
As Ambrose works, his eyes seem to lose focus and his mind drifts. His voice turns to humming - a light melody of ghostly beauty that seems to hang darkly in the humid, spiced air. After the ingredients are all submitted to the small cauldron, the humming ends, and Ambrose begins to tell his tale.
"Do any of you recall the days after the Fall of the Frozen King?" At (presumably) the negative response, Ambrose continues. "It was a difficult time, for all but a fair few who could keep to their castles and towers, to wait out the storm. Hordes of the hungry roamed the lands in search of unburned, unsalted fields, the beasts of the forest withdrew and hid in the darkest parts and none knew from whence their next meal came. It amounted, very nearly, to a loss of hope.
There were not many travelers through the land in those days - the merchants took their wares south, or sailed around us for fear of thievery and rebellion. But, I was there. A young half-elf, hardly in my forties, beholden to none while beholding the sights of the world. Of silver tongue and golden wit, I made my way around without a care in the world, at last coming to the great city, where then the rats and dogs were better fed than the children. It was in that grey and dreary city when I first made my mark - through a song, of all things. It wasn't even my own song - just a little shanty I overheard on the crossing over.
'Of better times, of better times. Soon we shall see some better times.
And when at last this storm has passed, the darkened sea shall be the past.'"
Ambrose coughs, and gives the stew a stir.
"It seemed to give people hope. A spring in their step. A light in the eyes. Hope, in a word. So I stayed. I put off my journeys around the world, and helped the people to rebuild. I wrote their histories, rallied the nobles, coerced merchants into investments, and brought back the light to a place of cold and darkness. And gods, was I popular. You all have no idea how thankful a people lost to Hope can be. My every word held and savored like sweetest wine. My very footsteps kissed by the luscious mouths of... well, I digress. Suffice to say I did quite well for myself, very well indeed, so much so that I effectively retired, and mused and strutted around town to my heart's content. Until, of course, some upstart alderman - you know, I don't even remember his name - decided that such things were 'forbidden' and 'a bad influence on the youth of the city'. Well, I wrote a little song about him too. I'll sing it for you some other time, but suffice to say it featured that good alderman meeting a very abrupt end to his career. The next few weeks were a bit of a blur for me - it seems that, in a night of particular vexation, I drank myself silly and stabbed the man in the chest. I would've pled accident, but it's hard to accidentally stab a man nine times in the abdomen. And, above all, it was my own knife that did it. So, I pled guilty. Didn't make a fuss, and looked forward to the four close walls of a cell. I spent a long time in that cell - I'd be tempted to think it was time wasted. But, no. I think not. I gave these people the flower of my youth to bring them hope. In return, it would seem I was not enough for them. Never enough. Four close stone walls helped me to see that.
And that's one of my tales, perhaps true, perhaps not. It is always to the heart of the listener to discern."
Ambrose puts down his lute, which he had absentmindedly begun to play mid-story, and pours four portions of stew - one more than twice as large as the others. Passing out the bowls, he accompanies them with hefty chunks of hard black bread and small slices of cheese. It is as luxurious a repast as any had at the prison, and more so.
"Thank you kindly friend Ambrose. I appreciate your candor in telling us that your story may be true or false. If you ever need help with the truth I have magics that can sus it out of you."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
“Well told, Ambrose! Well told. And this stew is delicious, thank you. I believe you have earned your choice of watch tonight, for your expertise in cooking and in story telling.”
Flindrinkin will volunteer by gathering the finished dishes and utensils and make his way out to scrub them clean in the snow outside. He will also check the surroundings as best as he can while enjoying the ability to breathe free air once more. He has no preference to which shift is to be his watch.
(Whenever his watch occurs: Survival: 24 and Perception: 12
The storm was a complete duster as the locals would call it, covering everything with at least a 2 feet of snow. Thanks to most of you being a from areas like this you know what must be done to survive. You took turns clearing your exit, and after the snow fell to a point the snow became a very good insulator and at times during the night it got almost toasty inside. Come morning the sun rose to a bright and clear sky as you all push the last dregs of now from your exit you feel the cold on your nose, your breath comes out in great thick clouds and each word can almost be seen as well as heard. You all gear up, toss on your snowshoes, break down camp and make sure everything is secured before heading out. You consult the orb of direction since everything is covered in snow, its very hard to come up with which direction is which, and head out.
((Can I get a marching order that you all would like to use for exploration? I'll assume its the same every time unless you want something different))
An hour or so after struggling through the now deeply snowy landscape you come to an area of the trees that is about 60ft round from edge to edge that looks almost unnatural in its perfect roundness. ((If you want give me a history check here to figure out what the area was.))
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
(3 out of 4 of us have +4 to Perception and a passive perception of 14. But due to Flindrinkin having 40’ of movement, as well as “Danger Sense”, it probably makes sense for him to lead - springing any traps we might come across.)
Flindrinkin will rub his chin while trying to remember if his tribe had passed any lore about this place in story or song.
History: 15
He will hold up his hand, stopping the forward progress into the clearing, until we recall what this area might be.
Ambrose will hang near the back, teeth chattering in what might be a prolonged bit. Occasionally, to entertain himself, he will take out the driftglobe and let it float in front of him, pushing it as needed. He seems quite taken with it, though he does shoot Sig a few narrowed looks upon occasion.
((Are you guys going single file, spreading out to investigate?))
You recall hearing stories from your clan about other circles such as these dotting the landscape here. They are said to be left overs from watch towers on the approach to the seat of the Frozen King's power. Over the centuries the stone towers have been ground to little and becoming claimed by ice and snow. There is no evidence of them but the perfectly round circle in the trees.
((Flin give me a Perception check DC20 to figure out if you see something odd.))
If you succeed:
Make an Acrobatics roll with advantage.
If you fail:
Make a athletics or acrobatics roll with disadvantage.
(I’m thinking single file, but that is a throwback to how our tribe would travel. Helps mask your numbers to curious eyes.)
Perception: 19
If success:
Acrobatics with advantage: 18
If failed:
Athletics with disadvantage: 18
As you all make your way across the clearing there is a sudden shift in the snow as a pair of skeletal hands shoot up and try to grab hold Flin Grapple check to beat 18 18 ((You are now grapple)
Just after this one pops up 2 more undead pop up behind the party ((Forming a triangle with the other 3 within the angles. The tip which has Flin grappled is about 45ft into the 60ft clearing, and the two who just popped up are 30 ft behind the tip.)
The undead, eye sockets glowing an eerie blue, have veins of greyish/blue coursing through their bones almost like veins that were once circling their bodies in life. Their fingers seem to have been altered in death being almost sharpened to claws. The zombie has a tattered robe that has the symbol on its left breast ((Perception check if you care to look)). It's eyes too, though not gone, have a blue shine to them, the skin has any icy cold look to it.
((Short description of the enemies to help imaging the scene. If you need anymore information let me know. This is probably my last post for the day look forward to the combat tomorrow.))
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Alex is shook out of his revelry (i think i'm using the right word here...)
"it was a long dagger, that seemed to have an aura power. you could tell it was magic, just by being within 100 feet or so of it. it looked plain enough, with a metal blade, about yay long (Alex extends his arms to a distance of about a foot and a half), and had a simple leather wrapped hilt. there was a small amethyst shard below the hilt."
(DM, what weapons in this world fit the description given?)
I am an average mathematics enjoyer.
>Extended Signature<
(close, it's reverie. Revelry is like a dance party.)
Flindrinkin turns his gaze upon Ambrose.
”So, why don’t you put down that quill and tell us your story? While you’re at it, you can cook us up something special. I’m getting hungry enough that bone and gristle is starting to become appetizing.”
To Flindrinkin, Ambrose is beginning to look like a side of yak. (jk)
Mana - Verdan Bard - Dragon Heist
”I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” - Douglas Adams
”I’ve suffered a great many catastrophes in my life. Most of them never happened.” - Mark Twain
The tip of the pen freezes with a harsh jerk. Ambrose gives it a confused glance, then sets it aside.
"Well, I'm afraid that the telling of 'my story' will be a tad, how shall we put it, difficult, for you see, I do not have a story, I have many. And not all of them are true, not all of them are right. Many are not for polite company, if you know what I mean. So, I'll do my best, but it may take me a moment to think of how to tell it right. In the meantime, I think it's time I begin with a bit of multi-tasking. Like so -"
Ambrose unpacks the rations and, aided by his spice pack, sets a small pot over a meager flame to boil a bit of the falling snow. Into the pot follow a square of congealed stock, handily packed in tight parchment, as well as a healthy dash of pepper, ginger, cinnamon, turmeric, paprika, and saffron. Once these flavors explode within the pot, a healthy portion of salted pork enters, along with a small onion and two potatoes, deftly peeled and sliced thin.
As Ambrose works, his eyes seem to lose focus and his mind drifts. His voice turns to humming - a light melody of ghostly beauty that seems to hang darkly in the humid, spiced air. After the ingredients are all submitted to the small cauldron, the humming ends, and Ambrose begins to tell his tale.
"Do any of you recall the days after the Fall of the Frozen King?" At (presumably) the negative response, Ambrose continues. "It was a difficult time, for all but a fair few who could keep to their castles and towers, to wait out the storm. Hordes of the hungry roamed the lands in search of unburned, unsalted fields, the beasts of the forest withdrew and hid in the darkest parts and none knew from whence their next meal came. It amounted, very nearly, to a loss of hope.
There were not many travelers through the land in those days - the merchants took their wares south, or sailed around us for fear of thievery and rebellion. But, I was there. A young half-elf, hardly in my forties, beholden to none while beholding the sights of the world. Of silver tongue and golden wit, I made my way around without a care in the world, at last coming to the great city, where then the rats and dogs were better fed than the children. It was in that grey and dreary city when I first made my mark - through a song, of all things. It wasn't even my own song - just a little shanty I overheard on the crossing over.
'Of better times, of better times. Soon we shall see some better times.
And when at last this storm has passed, the darkened sea shall be the past.'"
Ambrose coughs, and gives the stew a stir.
"It seemed to give people hope. A spring in their step. A light in the eyes. Hope, in a word. So I stayed. I put off my journeys around the world, and helped the people to rebuild. I wrote their histories, rallied the nobles, coerced merchants into investments, and brought back the light to a place of cold and darkness. And gods, was I popular. You all have no idea how thankful a people lost to Hope can be. My every word held and savored like sweetest wine. My very footsteps kissed by the luscious mouths of... well, I digress. Suffice to say I did quite well for myself, very well indeed, so much so that I effectively retired, and mused and strutted around town to my heart's content. Until, of course, some upstart alderman - you know, I don't even remember his name - decided that such things were 'forbidden' and 'a bad influence on the youth of the city'. Well, I wrote a little song about him too. I'll sing it for you some other time, but suffice to say it featured that good alderman meeting a very abrupt end to his career. The next few weeks were a bit of a blur for me - it seems that, in a night of particular vexation, I drank myself silly and stabbed the man in the chest. I would've pled accident, but it's hard to accidentally stab a man nine times in the abdomen. And, above all, it was my own knife that did it. So, I pled guilty. Didn't make a fuss, and looked forward to the four close walls of a cell. I spent a long time in that cell - I'd be tempted to think it was time wasted. But, no. I think not. I gave these people the flower of my youth to bring them hope. In return, it would seem I was not enough for them. Never enough. Four close stone walls helped me to see that.
And that's one of my tales, perhaps true, perhaps not. It is always to the heart of the listener to discern."
Ambrose puts down his lute, which he had absentmindedly begun to play mid-story, and pours four portions of stew - one more than twice as large as the others. Passing out the bowls, he accompanies them with hefty chunks of hard black bread and small slices of cheese. It is as luxurious a repast as any had at the prison, and more so.
"Thank you kindly friend Ambrose. I appreciate your candor in telling us that your story may be true or false. If you ever need help with the truth I have magics that can sus it out of you."
Sig sips his soup in utter sincerity.
“Well told, Ambrose! Well told. And this stew is delicious, thank you. I believe you have earned your choice of watch tonight, for your expertise in cooking and in story telling.”
Flindrinkin will volunteer by gathering the finished dishes and utensils and make his way out to scrub them clean in the snow outside. He will also check the surroundings as best as he can while enjoying the ability to breathe free air once more. He has no preference to which shift is to be his watch.
(Whenever his watch occurs: Survival: 24 and Perception: 12
Mana - Verdan Bard - Dragon Heist
”I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” - Douglas Adams
”I’ve suffered a great many catastrophes in my life. Most of them never happened.” - Mark Twain
Sig will take the midnight watch. Loving the brisk cold.
Hating the brisk cold, and loving long, warm sleep, Ambrose will try to get Alex to take the last watch of the night
((lol, ok))
I am an average mathematics enjoyer.
>Extended Signature<
Alex nods to taking the last watch, saying nothing
I am an average mathematics enjoyer.
>Extended Signature<
The storm was a complete duster as the locals would call it, covering everything with at least a 2 feet of snow. Thanks to most of you being a from areas like this you know what must be done to survive. You took turns clearing your exit, and after the snow fell to a point the snow became a very good insulator and at times during the night it got almost toasty inside. Come morning the sun rose to a bright and clear sky as you all push the last dregs of now from your exit you feel the cold on your nose, your breath comes out in great thick clouds and each word can almost be seen as well as heard. You all gear up, toss on your snowshoes, break down camp and make sure everything is secured before heading out. You consult the orb of direction since everything is covered in snow, its very hard to come up with which direction is which, and head out.
((Can I get a marching order that you all would like to use for exploration? I'll assume its the same every time unless you want something different))
An hour or so after struggling through the now deeply snowy landscape you come to an area of the trees that is about 60ft round from edge to edge that looks almost unnatural in its perfect roundness. ((If you want give me a history check here to figure out what the area was.))
What do you wish to do?
(3 out of 4 of us have +4 to Perception and a passive perception of 14. But due to Flindrinkin having 40’ of movement, as well as “Danger Sense”, it probably makes sense for him to lead - springing any traps we might come across.)
Flindrinkin will rub his chin while trying to remember if his tribe had passed any lore about this place in story or song.
History: 15
He will hold up his hand, stopping the forward progress into the clearing, until we recall what this area might be.
Mana - Verdan Bard - Dragon Heist
”I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” - Douglas Adams
”I’ve suffered a great many catastrophes in my life. Most of them never happened.” - Mark Twain
Ambrose will hang near the back, teeth chattering in what might be a prolonged bit. Occasionally, to entertain himself, he will take out the driftglobe and let it float in front of him, pushing it as needed. He seems quite taken with it, though he does shoot Sig a few narrowed looks upon occasion.
((Are you guys going single file, spreading out to investigate?))
You recall hearing stories from your clan about other circles such as these dotting the landscape here. They are said to be left overs from watch towers on the approach to the seat of the Frozen King's power. Over the centuries the stone towers have been ground to little and becoming claimed by ice and snow. There is no evidence of them but the perfectly round circle in the trees.
((Flin give me a Perception check DC20 to figure out if you see something odd.))
If you succeed:
Make an Acrobatics roll with advantage.
If you fail:
Make a athletics or acrobatics roll with disadvantage.
(I’m thinking single file, but that is a throwback to how our tribe would travel. Helps mask your numbers to curious eyes.)
Perception: 19
If success:
Acrobatics with advantage: 18
If failed:
Athletics with disadvantage: 18
Mana - Verdan Bard - Dragon Heist
”I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” - Douglas Adams
”I’ve suffered a great many catastrophes in my life. Most of them never happened.” - Mark Twain
(i think single file also)
I am an average mathematics enjoyer.
>Extended Signature<
As you all make your way across the clearing there is a sudden shift in the snow as a pair of skeletal hands shoot up and try to grab hold Flin Grapple check to beat 18 18 ((You are now grapple)
Just after this one pops up 2 more undead pop up behind the party ((Forming a triangle with the other 3 within the angles. The tip which has Flin grappled is about 45ft into the 60ft clearing, and the two who just popped up are 30 ft behind the tip.)
Roll Initiative:
5 Skeleton 1 (has Flin grappled)
1 Skeleton 2
6 Zombie 1
((Go ahead and roll initiative tonight and we will start combat tomorrow. Its been a stereotypical Monday for me here at work.))
6
I am an average mathematics enjoyer.
>Extended Signature<
“Aha!”
Initiative: 11
Mana - Verdan Bard - Dragon Heist
”I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” - Douglas Adams
”I’ve suffered a great many catastrophes in my life. Most of them never happened.” - Mark Twain
The undead, eye sockets glowing an eerie blue, have veins of greyish/blue coursing through their bones almost like veins that were once circling their bodies in life. Their fingers seem to have been altered in death being almost sharpened to claws. The zombie has a tattered robe that has the symbol on its left breast ((Perception check if you care to look)). It's eyes too, though not gone, have a blue shine to them, the skin has any icy cold look to it.
((Short description of the enemies to help imaging the scene. If you need anymore information let me know. This is probably my last post for the day look forward to the combat tomorrow.))