Marcus smiles and nods his thanks to the innkeep. “Yes, I’d better stay the night. Won’t get far in this weather. How much do I owe you.”
Marcus looks down at his Meade, and sighs “Well, one won’t hurt. Reminds me of better times...”
Overhearing the talks of cannibal necromancer, Marcus takes interest. “‘The hateful ate’ right? Eight members in the cult, and they ate people? Clever wordplay, was that your song then Mr Strafe? Seems you are more famous than you give yourself credit for.”
The barkeep nods, "One silver for the room, food and drink are on the house tonight." The barkeep pretends to be polishing the bar as he listens in on the story. A few patrons trickle out of the tavern, one returning to cover the doorway with a tarp. The inn grows silent for a moment as the earth seems to shake with the roaring ripple of thunder.
Jinara you see a men in a thick leather coat approaching. A heavy hood pulled over his head to keep the rain away. As he reaches the inn, he tips his hood greeting you, before he pulls it back and you see a young men with long dark hair. He quickly enters the inn and closes the door behind himself, slightly struggling with the wind.
Nadariel looks around the inn, taking in the music and celebration. He scans the room in search for a free spot where he can rest and dry his skin.
"So unusual weather." Lia says with a frown, glancing out the window at the world outside again. She cocks her head at the feel of the ground shaking, glancing to the human. "Did you feel that?" She asked. "Was it from the thunder, or something else?" She asked, though she didn't really expect an answer.
Marcus scrambles around his bag looking for his coin, and bringing out a gold piece. “Sorry, do you have change?”
He pulls out a pouch with a powder inside and mixes it into his Meade with his knife before scraping the meat and gravy off the bread and noisily slurping it up, leaving the bread intact.
Nadariel steps up to the barmen: „Good evening sir, if i am correct, then we have a wedding here tonight, am i correct? I am a wandering Acolyte of Deos, and i would like to give a blessing to the newly wedded. Could you point me to one of the parents of the lovely couple?“
Looking up you see the clouds swirling between flashes of lightning, a funnel coming from the earth towards the heavens is faintly seen a mile to the west.
The barkeep nods and drops nine silver on the bar for Marcus in change before looking to Nadariel, "I, as father of the bride, would be most honored, Oly Brother, if'd you bless they're marriage."
Quinnil nods, standing as another ripple of thunder seems to shake the earth, "Most violent for a storm, though I don't know what else could cause the earth to shake, shy of some monstrosity. I'll be right back, might as well have another drink." He takes a few strides towards the bar and gets another glass of liquor.
Lia feels bad as she summons forth her familiar, out in the storm outside the window. She asks the owl to fly as best it can in the rain and look to see if anything else is out there, other than the storm.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Noticing the attention that Lia and Jinara seem to be paying to the weather, Senenir also turns towards the door. He steps outside into the pouring rain using his cloak to cover his head and attempts to look outside to decipher whether or not the storm is natural and where it may be coming from.
(OOC: I am not sure what check you need so I will roll the three that I think apply and you can take what you need... If you would like something other than what I rolled then LMK, please... Thanks!)
Perception: 15
Survival: 26
Nature: 12
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Marcus shrugs to himself as the group he tried to talk to ignore him or wander outside. “Must be city folk....” he mutters to himself as he shovels meat into his mouth.
Wiping his mouth he turns to the priest next to him “An Acolyte of Deos?” He asks “I would be honoured to watch your service, or help of I can! I’m a follower of Peloth myself, but I’d love to learn how to perform ceremonial rites.” Beneath his tough exterior, Nadariel can see a boyish eagerness to please beneath.
Jinara sees the funnel and feels and urge to run, but Senenir opens the door and Jinara turns around. “Tornado. Get inside. We need to move these people to a safer place. You find the minstrel. He’s good with words. I’ll talk to the barkeep and find the best place for a group this size.”
to the barkeep “There is a tornado about a mile away. Where can these people go to find shelter?”
Senenir stops short of the door and immediately turns around hearing the word tornado, "Tornado. Much danger," he responds to Jinara before nodding his head and going off to find the music man to warn him.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
The barkeep's face goes pale as the blood is drained from it, "Umm, umm...The wine cellar might be the best option." The music is cut out as the inn over hears, Quinnil takes a swig before looking around, "Well, lets get atter, single file. This way." Quinnil begins to shepherd the people into the kitchen and then down below the inn, into the wine cellar. The shutters batter the windows, causing them to smash and shatter. Wooden slat shingles begin to peel away from the roof before being flung far into the obsidian night.
Senenir:
You step outside glancing upwards, seeing the funnel. You remember that tornadoes tend to be formed from hot and cold currents mixing, creating a swirling motion from the clouds. This however is coming from the ground, almost seeming to be artificial in nature.
Lia, make an acrobatics check to see if your owl can get airborne.
Seeing Strafe on the barrel, Senenir shouts to him "Music man! Storm bad! Not from nature!" He also is going to stand next to Strafe and do what he can to aid him in his endeavors to calm the people. Turning to look back at the people that he had noticed filling the tavern earlier he calls out, "What do we do?"
(OOC: Using the help action to give Strafe advantage on his next check)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Stafe's voice is raised as he calms the people and they begin to make their way down into the wine cellar. After a few minutes most everyone within the inn is situated within the cellar. Quinnil looks to the five adventurers, "I'm going to go alert the rest of the village and get them to take shelter. I recommend you go join the wedding party in the cellar." He pulls on a thick cloak he had hanging in a corner and takes a bit of burning wood from the hearth, lighting a lantern.
Strafe hops down from the bar with a flourish ending in a bow. Popping back up he walks over to Quinnil, Would you be ok with some company? In a storm like this you might need an extra set of eyes, ya know.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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Marcus smiles and nods his thanks to the innkeep. “Yes, I’d better stay the night. Won’t get far in this weather. How much do I owe you.”
Marcus looks down at his Meade, and sighs “Well, one won’t hurt. Reminds me of better times...”
Overhearing the talks of cannibal necromancer, Marcus takes interest. “‘The hateful ate’ right? Eight members in the cult, and they ate people? Clever wordplay, was that your song then Mr Strafe? Seems you are more famous than you give yourself credit for.”
Gilgin Hardhammer - Mountain Dwarf Cleric (Forge Domain) - Icewind Dale
Petal - Forest Gnome Druid (Circle of the Land - Forest) - Unsung Heroes of Embera
Jinara, make a perception check.
The barkeep nods, "One silver for the room, food and drink are on the house tonight." The barkeep pretends to be polishing the bar as he listens in on the story. A few patrons trickle out of the tavern, one returning to cover the doorway with a tarp. The inn grows silent for a moment as the earth seems to shake with the roaring ripple of thunder.
Perception = 22
Jinara you see a men in a thick leather coat approaching. A heavy hood pulled over his head to keep the rain away. As he reaches the inn, he tips his hood greeting you, before he pulls it back and you see a young men with long dark hair. He quickly enters the inn and closes the door behind himself, slightly struggling with the wind.
Nadariel looks around the inn, taking in the music and celebration. He scans the room in search for a free spot where he can rest and dry his skin.
Attack: [roll]3d20dl2+6[/roll] Damage: [roll](if([roll:-1:critical], =0, 1d8, 2{1d8}.expand()))+4[/roll] Sneakattack: [roll](if([roll:-2:critical], =0, 2d6, 2{2d6}.expand()))[/roll]Jinara nods in acknowledgement.
"So unusual weather." Lia says with a frown, glancing out the window at the world outside again. She cocks her head at the feel of the ground shaking, glancing to the human. "Did you feel that?" She asked. "Was it from the thunder, or something else?" She asked, though she didn't really expect an answer.
Marcus scrambles around his bag looking for his coin, and bringing out a gold piece. “Sorry, do you have change?”
He pulls out a pouch with a powder inside and mixes it into his Meade with his knife before scraping the meat and gravy off the bread and noisily slurping it up, leaving the bread intact.
Gilgin Hardhammer - Mountain Dwarf Cleric (Forge Domain) - Icewind Dale
Petal - Forest Gnome Druid (Circle of the Land - Forest) - Unsung Heroes of Embera
Nadariel steps up to the barmen: „Good evening sir, if i am correct, then we have a wedding here tonight, am i correct? I am a wandering Acolyte of Deos, and i would like to give a blessing to the newly wedded. Could you point me to one of the parents of the lovely couple?“
Attack: [roll]3d20dl2+6[/roll] Damage: [roll](if([roll:-1:critical], =0, 1d8, 2{1d8}.expand()))+4[/roll] Sneakattack: [roll](if([roll:-2:critical], =0, 2d6, 2{2d6}.expand()))[/roll]Jinara;
Looking up you see the clouds swirling between flashes of lightning, a funnel coming from the earth towards the heavens is faintly seen a mile to the west.
The barkeep nods and drops nine silver on the bar for Marcus in change before looking to Nadariel, "I, as father of the bride, would be most honored, Oly Brother, if'd you bless they're marriage."
Quinnil nods, standing as another ripple of thunder seems to shake the earth, "Most violent for a storm, though I don't know what else could cause the earth to shake, shy of some monstrosity. I'll be right back, might as well have another drink." He takes a few strides towards the bar and gets another glass of liquor.
Lia feels bad as she summons forth her familiar, out in the storm outside the window. She asks the owl to fly as best it can in the rain and look to see if anything else is out there, other than the storm.
Noticing the attention that Lia and Jinara seem to be paying to the weather, Senenir also turns towards the door. He steps outside into the pouring rain using his cloak to cover his head and attempts to look outside to decipher whether or not the storm is natural and where it may be coming from.
(OOC: I am not sure what check you need so I will roll the three that I think apply and you can take what you need... If you would like something other than what I rolled then LMK, please... Thanks!)
Perception: 15
Survival: 26
Nature: 12
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Marcus shrugs to himself as the group he tried to talk to ignore him or wander outside. “Must be city folk....” he mutters to himself as he shovels meat into his mouth.
Wiping his mouth he turns to the priest next to him “An Acolyte of Deos?” He asks “I would be honoured to watch your service, or help of I can! I’m a follower of Peloth myself, but I’d love to learn how to perform ceremonial rites.” Beneath his tough exterior, Nadariel can see a boyish eagerness to please beneath.
Gilgin Hardhammer - Mountain Dwarf Cleric (Forge Domain) - Icewind Dale
Petal - Forest Gnome Druid (Circle of the Land - Forest) - Unsung Heroes of Embera
Jinara sees the funnel and feels and urge to run, but Senenir opens the door and Jinara turns around. “Tornado. Get inside. We need to move these people to a safer place. You find the minstrel. He’s good with words. I’ll talk to the barkeep and find the best place for a group this size.”
to the barkeep “There is a tornado about a mile away. Where can these people go to find shelter?”
„A tornado?“ Nadariel runs to the door and takes a look outside. How bad does it look like? (Perception 8)
Attack: [roll]3d20dl2+6[/roll] Damage: [roll](if([roll:-1:critical], =0, 1d8, 2{1d8}.expand()))+4[/roll] Sneakattack: [roll](if([roll:-2:critical], =0, 2d6, 2{2d6}.expand()))[/roll]Senenir stops short of the door and immediately turns around hearing the word tornado, "Tornado. Much danger," he responds to Jinara before nodding his head and going off to find the music man to warn him.
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
The barkeep's face goes pale as the blood is drained from it, "Umm, umm...The wine cellar might be the best option." The music is cut out as the inn over hears, Quinnil takes a swig before looking around, "Well, lets get atter, single file. This way." Quinnil begins to shepherd the people into the kitchen and then down below the inn, into the wine cellar. The shutters batter the windows, causing them to smash and shatter. Wooden slat shingles begin to peel away from the roof before being flung far into the obsidian night.
Senenir:
You step outside glancing upwards, seeing the funnel. You remember that tornadoes tend to be formed from hot and cold currents mixing, creating a swirling motion from the clouds. This however is coming from the ground, almost seeming to be artificial in nature.
Lia, make an acrobatics check to see if your owl can get airborne.
Strafe will get on top of the bar and try to sooth the worried people hoping it makes them more orderly.
7 Performance
Seeing Strafe on the barrel, Senenir shouts to him "Music man! Storm bad! Not from nature!" He also is going to stand next to Strafe and do what he can to aid him in his endeavors to calm the people. Turning to look back at the people that he had noticed filling the tavern earlier he calls out, "What do we do?"
(OOC: Using the help action to give Strafe advantage on his next check)
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Stafe's voice is raised as he calms the people and they begin to make their way down into the wine cellar. After a few minutes most everyone within the inn is situated within the cellar. Quinnil looks to the five adventurers, "I'm going to go alert the rest of the village and get them to take shelter. I recommend you go join the wedding party in the cellar." He pulls on a thick cloak he had hanging in a corner and takes a bit of burning wood from the hearth, lighting a lantern.
Strafe hops down from the bar with a flourish ending in a bow. Popping back up he walks over to Quinnil, Would you be ok with some company? In a storm like this you might need an extra set of eyes, ya know.