When the Three Companions arrived in Hither, they had been traveling for some time. In the Feywild, time moved differently, so concepts like "a day" or "a month" had variable distances and were not so straightforward as in the mortal realms.
Therefore, it was some time since they had left the lands of the Spring Court with its ever-blossoming flowers and new growth--a distant journey of long leagues through Wild lands and ancient forests condensed down now to the montage of memory.
You find yourself standing atop a raised and broken causeway under a hazy, twilit sky. The causeway, which is built from pale stones that glow faintly from within, towers over the surrounding landscape, but large sections of it have crumbled away. The parts that remain in place are separated by large gaps where portions have collapsed. You stand at the end of one such gap, looking down upon the land.
A fog-shrouded swamp spreads out below you in all directions, and up from its murk wafts the smell of rotting plants. Also rising from the swamp is the music of nature—a discordant symphony of croaking frogs and singing birds.
As though waking from a dream, you realize you've reached your destination, and yet, something seems off. The causeway, you remember Duke Vernal calling it the Queen's Way, was complete in his memory, linking the three lands of Prismeer (Hither, Thither, and Yon) for easy travel. Hither, which you believe you're looking down upon was a land of lakes and forest, but now seems more swamp and ruins.
"Well, ain't that a face fulla sweaty goat bollocks...", a gruff voice emanates from the beak of the little kenku as she hops up to perch on a broken chunk of rock and cocks her head at her two companions, her dark glassy eyes regarding them for a moment before her head quickly swivels back to the expanse in front of them. "Oh, dear, this won't do at all.", she says in a warm, matronly tone.
She wears a jacket of warm reds over leather armor, portions of the jacket festooned with beads, feathers, bits of colored glass worn smooth. On one hip she wears a rapier, but it is the small hand drum slung across her shoulders to ride on her other hip that her hand rests upon. A well used backpack rests on her slight frame, a crossbow and lyre case competing for space.
Gazing out over the swamp, she half closes her eyes, membranes sliding across them as she listens intently to the birds, frogs and insects, before calling out counterpoints and weaving her own complex remixing of notes, bringing at least to her ears, and even if only momentarily, a beautiful cohesiveness to the calling creatures' chorus, before falling silent and letting it return to chaos.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
The centaur chooses his steps carefully, studying the pale stones beneath him with each step he takes. From head to hooves, so to speak, Gerien's appearance is nothing out of the ordinary for his kind: long chestnut-colored hair pulled into a neat braid, bright green eyes, pale skin, and a dun-colored coat that fades to charcoal gray in his tail and legs. Upon his human torso he wears a suit of chain mail, and draped over his equine back and sides is a piece of thick but finely-embroidered leather. Across his broad human back there hangs a greatsword and a quiver of arrows for the longbow that he currently holds in hand.
Gerien's attention turns from the unexpected scene below to Trill's melody. A faint smile of appreciation crosses his face before he nods in agreement with the kenku and says in his baritone voice, "Agreed. This won't do at all."
He then looks at Joy, curious to see her reaction to all of this. "There's a bit of queenliness missing from the Queen's Way it seems."
"Seems like there's an adventure ahead," she grins.
"Well, we knew that already. But it's developed a bit since the start, let's see where it goes."
Joy herself, both looks like the noble she is and doesn't. Her clothing is colourful, extremely so. Everything about her is colourful really. Her bright-soft pink hair, her clear-sky blue eyes, the freckles on her skin aren't quite colourful but they are like constellations, everywhere. Like having skin clear of anything would be boring. This idea is only enhances by the green-yellow-blue markings that decorate her arms. One day she'll get some scars to match the stories that will be written in her life.
"Who wants to go first? Cause I do, first person to find something cool wins."
"I do not have the heart to rob you of leading the way," responds Gerien to Joy. "I ask only that you lead where a centaur is able to follow."
Then, as he does from time to time, Gerien recites a few lines of poetry that come to mind as a result of the situation at hand.
The path behind was once the path ahead; The path before us now with hope we tread. The path behind has taught us wisdom true. So, path before us, grant us passage through.
Almost unconsciously Trill vocalizes an accompaniment to Gerien's recitation, nothing that seeks to overshadow her bigger friend's words but subtly bolstering and supporting it. When he finishes, she sweeps a hand back and forth in the motion of a gently falling feather drifting back and forth, and lets out a soft whistle that slows along with her hand before coming to a rest.
((Depending on the height, and if we are descending to the swamp below, Trill can cast feather fall to soften our descent.))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
The highway is 20 feet wide and 100 feet above the swamp. The section where you currently stand is directly above a sorry pillar. Looking down you can see large, colorful shelf mushrooms clinging to the lower half of the pillar.
As you are looking around, in the distant sky, you spot a great balloon made of patchwork material. It spins out of control as though punctured, causing the wicker basket that hangs from it to swing wildly. The balloon plunges out of sight, disappearing into the fog approximately a mile away to the east.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"In favor.", Trill repeats Joy's words in Joy's voice. She scans the swamp in the direction of the downed balloon such as she can see among the vegetation and fog. Perception (Passive of 15): 16
As you gently float down through the air, you catch a glimpse of the balloon floating towards a leaning tower to the east. But as you fall below the tops of the mangrove trees it's lost to sight. As you land, a pair of giant cranes, startled by your descent, take flight squawking loudly.
Sticky mud squelches beneath your feet. Tangled mangroves grow out of pools of rippling water, half hidden by the thick fog, and purple mushrooms cling to rotting logs and stumps scattered throughout the marsh. Crickets that glow like fireflies chirp serenely before they’re snatched out of the air by the tongues of hungry frogs.
After a moment you hear several voices joined in a marching song coming your way. The singing grows louder as six bipedal rabbits wearing clothing emerge from the fog. Two of them tug at the reins of a giant snail, and the others carry clubs and slings.
With sticks and stones, we’ll break your nose; We’ll beat you blind and steal your clothes. But none among us can compare To one wily, swift, and stand-up hare— Scarf that’s glorious, thief notorious, His deeds are truly meritorious!
With a wink and a grin, he’ll show his cunning; A flash of his scarf, he’ll take off running. Quick as a bolt, his long scarf trailing, Gasping, grasping, you’ll end up flailing. You’ll pout, you’ll moan, you’ll huff, you’ll sneer; Thanks to Agdon Longscarf, brigand prince of Prismeer!
The leader steps forward and bows slightly. "Hello friends, I am Jebbek. This is a robbery. If you resist, we’ll beat you black and blue.” She says this with a bit of an apologetic smile, as though it's not something she's used to, but has rehearsed.
"Nice to meet you Jebbek! You may call me Joy. Please don't try, we will certainly resist and likely kill you. And you seem nice so I'd very much like to not do that."
The finger talons of Trill's scaled hands wander across the head of her drum, calling for a building intensity as a counterpoint to Joy's cheerful greeting that goes still at the end to let her words resonate that much more in the relative silence.
((Bardic Inspiration to Joy))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Jebbek and the other harengons laugh. She says, "You must be new here. We work for Agdon Longscarf, and there are six of us and only three of you. Now," she produces a stoppered gourd with a golden knob and displays it, "if you roll just surrender the feeling of delight you remember from when you were given the best gift you ever received, then we'll be on our way and no one will be beaten unconscious!"
Trill's eyes go wide as the brigand's words and intent sink in, her hand clutching at the roc feather that is firmly affixed to the scabbard of her rapier. She looks at Joy and Gerien, shaking her head emphatically, before speaking up in the stern tones of Duke Vernal, repeating an abridged version of the admonishment he gave her when she first found her way to his court and some choice shiny objects couldn't help but find themselves inside the many pockets of her jacket, "Explain yourself, for I am not one to tolerate the violation of the sacred rule of ownership. One must respect the delicate balance that sustains our way of life. Ownership, a concept once revered by both mortals and fey alike, must be preserved. Ignorance is not an excuse, for the essence of the fey is intricately entwined with the essence of knowledge. You stand before me at the crossroads of consequence. What shall be your fate? Will you become a cautionary tale, a footnote in the annals of trespassers, or shall you earn my favor?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Gerien studies the peculiar party of upright rabbits, wondering if their leader means what she says. (Insight) 7)
The centuar, however, fully recognizes the meaning of the gleam in Joy's eyes. To Jebbek he says, "Do not be deceived by my friend's...benign...appearance."
After Trill concludes her exhortation and warning, Gerien adds a question of his own. "The gourd you carry...I ask your forgiveness, Jebbek, for my mind is not so keen as my blade...what do mean by presenting it to us?"
Trill's eyes go wide as the brigand's words and intent sink in, her hand clutching at the roc feather that is firmly affixed to the scabbard of her rapier. She looks at Joy and Gerien, shaking her head emphatically, before speaking up in the stern tones of Duke Vernal, repeating an abridged version of the admonishment he gave her when she first found her way to his court and some choice shiny objects couldn't help but find themselves inside the many pockets of her jacket, "Explain yourself, for I am not one to tolerate the violation of the sacred rule of ownership. One must respect the delicate balance that sustains our way of life. Ownership, a concept once revered by both mortals and fey alike, must be preserved. Ignorance is not an excuse, for the essence of the fey is intricately entwined with the essence of knowledge. You stand before me at the crossroads of consequence. What shall be your fate? Will you become a cautionary tale, a footnote in the annals of trespassers, or shall you earn my favor?"
The harengon laugh at this. Trill is reminded of juvenile delinquents laughing at a new teacher trying to impose discipline.
She says with the persistent exasperation of a child pointing out the game to an uncooperative adult, "We're BANDITS. There's six of us, and 3 of you. So you give us your Delight, and then we go away and you can go your way."
Gerien studies the peculiar party of upright rabbits, wondering if their leader means what she says. (Insight) 12)
Gerien gets the sense that she is being very literal and is looking at the situation as simple math, 6 is greater than 3, and seems amused but also a little confused about your party not playing along with the "script" so-to-speak.
After Trill concludes her exhortation and warning, Gerien adds a question of his own. "The gourd you carry...I ask your forgiveness, Jebbek, for my mind is not so keen as my blade...what do mean by presenting it to us?"
She taps the side of the gourd, which gives a hollow thump that sounds vaguely of pleasure, "Your delight goes in here."
"My delight from the best gift I was ever given, you say? Into the gourd? Well, that is quite a notion, Jebbek."
After a lengthy pause, Gerien adds, "This may take a great deal of time, I fear. Nearly thirty years have I roamed the Feywild, and in that time received many gifts, each of which brings delight in its own way. I'm sure you understand. The giddy delight of being in love...the awe-inspired delight of gazing at the heavens...the poignant delight of a mournful song...the primal delight of a huge meal...the intoxicating delight of a perfect wine...how shall I discern between all of these and so many others?"
The centaur then shrugs his shoulders, indicating he has no idea how to answer his own rhetorical quesiton. He watches Jebbek closely, wondering how his coy response will be received by the would-be robber.
When the Three Companions arrived in Hither, they had been traveling for some time. In the Feywild, time moved differently, so concepts like "a day" or "a month" had variable distances and were not so straightforward as in the mortal realms.
Therefore, it was some time since they had left the lands of the Spring Court with its ever-blossoming flowers and new growth--a distant journey of long leagues through Wild lands and ancient forests condensed down now to the montage of memory.
You find yourself standing atop a raised and broken causeway under a hazy, twilit sky. The causeway, which is built from pale stones that glow faintly from within, towers over the surrounding landscape, but large sections of it have crumbled away. The parts that remain in place are separated by large gaps where portions have collapsed. You stand at the end of one such gap, looking down upon the land.
A fog-shrouded swamp spreads out below you in all directions, and up from its murk wafts the smell of rotting plants. Also rising from the swamp is the music of nature—a discordant symphony of croaking frogs and singing birds.
As though waking from a dream, you realize you've reached your destination, and yet, something seems off. The causeway, you remember Duke Vernal calling it the Queen's Way, was complete in his memory, linking the three lands of Prismeer (Hither, Thither, and Yon) for easy travel. Hither, which you believe you're looking down upon was a land of lakes and forest, but now seems more swamp and ruins.
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |
"Well, ain't that a face fulla sweaty goat bollocks...", a gruff voice emanates from the beak of the little kenku as she hops up to perch on a broken chunk of rock and cocks her head at her two companions, her dark glassy eyes regarding them for a moment before her head quickly swivels back to the expanse in front of them. "Oh, dear, this won't do at all.", she says in a warm, matronly tone.
She wears a jacket of warm reds over leather armor, portions of the jacket festooned with beads, feathers, bits of colored glass worn smooth. On one hip she wears a rapier, but it is the small hand drum slung across her shoulders to ride on her other hip that her hand rests upon. A well used backpack rests on her slight frame, a crossbow and lyre case competing for space.
Gazing out over the swamp, she half closes her eyes, membranes sliding across them as she listens intently to the birds, frogs and insects, before calling out counterpoints and weaving her own complex remixing of notes, bringing at least to her ears, and even if only momentarily, a beautiful cohesiveness to the calling creatures' chorus, before falling silent and letting it return to chaos.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
The centaur chooses his steps carefully, studying the pale stones beneath him with each step he takes. From head to hooves, so to speak, Gerien's appearance is nothing out of the ordinary for his kind: long chestnut-colored hair pulled into a neat braid, bright green eyes, pale skin, and a dun-colored coat that fades to charcoal gray in his tail and legs. Upon his human torso he wears a suit of chain mail, and draped over his equine back and sides is a piece of thick but finely-embroidered leather. Across his broad human back there hangs a greatsword and a quiver of arrows for the longbow that he currently holds in hand.
Gerien's attention turns from the unexpected scene below to Trill's melody. A faint smile of appreciation crosses his face before he nods in agreement with the kenku and says in his baritone voice, "Agreed. This won't do at all."
He then looks at Joy, curious to see her reaction to all of this. "There's a bit of queenliness missing from the Queen's Way it seems."
Joy smiles at that.
"Seems like there's an adventure ahead," she grins.
"Well, we knew that already. But it's developed a bit since the start, let's see where it goes."
Joy herself, both looks like the noble she is and doesn't. Her clothing is colourful, extremely so. Everything about her is colourful really. Her bright-soft pink hair, her clear-sky blue eyes, the freckles on her skin aren't quite colourful but they are like constellations, everywhere. Like having skin clear of anything would be boring. This idea is only enhances by the green-yellow-blue markings that decorate her arms. One day she'll get some scars to match the stories that will be written in her life.
"Who wants to go first? Cause I do, first person to find something cool wins."
((How far down is it from the causeway to the swamp? Also I'm assuming we cannot see where the causeway may pick up in the distance?))
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
"I do not have the heart to rob you of leading the way," responds Gerien to Joy. "I ask only that you lead where a centaur is able to follow."
Then, as he does from time to time, Gerien recites a few lines of poetry that come to mind as a result of the situation at hand.
The path behind was once the path ahead;
The path before us now with hope we tread.
The path behind has taught us wisdom true.
So, path before us, grant us passage through.
Almost unconsciously Trill vocalizes an accompaniment to Gerien's recitation, nothing that seeks to overshadow her bigger friend's words but subtly bolstering and supporting it. When he finishes, she sweeps a hand back and forth in the motion of a gently falling feather drifting back and forth, and lets out a soft whistle that slows along with her hand before coming to a rest.
((Depending on the height, and if we are descending to the swamp below, Trill can cast feather fall to soften our descent.))
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
The highway is 20 feet wide and 100 feet above the swamp. The section where you currently stand is directly above a sorry pillar. Looking down you can see large, colorful shelf mushrooms clinging to the lower half of the pillar.
As you are looking around, in the distant sky, you spot a great balloon made of patchwork material. It spins out of control as though punctured, causing the wicker basket that hangs from it to swing wildly. The balloon plunges out of sight, disappearing into the fog approximately a mile away to the east.
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |
Joy's eyes follow the trail of the falling balloon and her mouth makes an O shape as she watches it fall.
"I think we have our first goal, our first stop along the way. All in favor of following that balloon?"
If Trill will cast featherfall, Joy will be absolutely delighted to jump down into the swamp.
"Onward and downward," muses Gerien.
"In favor.", Trill repeats Joy's words in Joy's voice. She scans the swamp in the direction of the downed balloon such as she can see among the vegetation and fog. Perception (Passive of 15): 16
As long as no dangers catch her eyes...
The little kenku holds up three fingers questioningly, to make sure her friends are ready to go. Once she receives confirmation, she'll tap on her drum once, dropping a finger, tap on it again, and drop a second finger before holding her drum up and tapping a third time as she leaps over the edge. On the way down, she drums out a more complex tune laced with vocalizations of various birds and wind sounds which swirl around the party and slow their descent.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
With sticks and stones, we’ll break your nose;
We’ll beat you blind and steal your clothes.
But none among us can compare
To one wily, swift, and stand-up hare—
Scarf that’s glorious, thief notorious,
His deeds are truly meritorious!
With a wink and a grin, he’ll show his cunning;
A flash of his scarf, he’ll take off running.
Quick as a bolt, his long scarf trailing,
Gasping, grasping, you’ll end up flailing.
You’ll pout, you’ll moan, you’ll huff, you’ll sneer;
Thanks to Agdon Longscarf, brigand prince of Prismeer!
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |
Joy gives a bright smile and bows back at her.
"Nice to meet you Jebbek! You may call me Joy. Please don't try, we will certainly resist and likely kill you. And you seem nice so I'd very much like to not do that."
The finger talons of Trill's scaled hands wander across the head of her drum, calling for a building intensity as a counterpoint to Joy's cheerful greeting that goes still at the end to let her words resonate that much more in the relative silence.
((Bardic Inspiration to Joy))
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Jebbek and the other harengons laugh. She says, "You must be new here. We work for Agdon Longscarf, and there are six of us and only three of you. Now," she produces a stoppered gourd with a golden knob and displays it, "if you roll just surrender the feeling of delight you remember from when you were given the best gift you ever received, then we'll be on our way and no one will be beaten unconscious!"
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |
"Six against three? Oh no, how terrible."
Her grin widens and widens. Joy sparks in her eyes: Joy, excitement, bloodlust.
"It might actually take us a minute before we need to concern ourselves with the matter of what to do with your corpses."
Trill's eyes go wide as the brigand's words and intent sink in, her hand clutching at the roc feather that is firmly affixed to the scabbard of her rapier. She looks at Joy and Gerien, shaking her head emphatically, before speaking up in the stern tones of Duke Vernal, repeating an abridged version of the admonishment he gave her when she first found her way to his court and some choice shiny objects couldn't help but find themselves inside the many pockets of her jacket, "Explain yourself, for I am not one to tolerate the violation of the sacred rule of ownership. One must respect the delicate balance that sustains our way of life. Ownership, a concept once revered by both mortals and fey alike, must be preserved. Ignorance is not an excuse, for the essence of the fey is intricately entwined with the essence of knowledge. You stand before me at the crossroads of consequence. What shall be your fate? Will you become a cautionary tale, a footnote in the annals of trespassers, or shall you earn my favor?"
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Gerien studies the peculiar party of upright rabbits, wondering if their leader means what she says. (Insight) 7)
The centuar, however, fully recognizes the meaning of the gleam in Joy's eyes. To Jebbek he says, "Do not be deceived by my friend's...benign...appearance."
After Trill concludes her exhortation and warning, Gerien adds a question of his own. "The gourd you carry...I ask your forgiveness, Jebbek, for my mind is not so keen as my blade...what do mean by presenting it to us?"
The harengon laugh at this. Trill is reminded of juvenile delinquents laughing at a new teacher trying to impose discipline.
She says with the persistent exasperation of a child pointing out the game to an uncooperative adult, "We're BANDITS. There's six of us, and 3 of you. So you give us your Delight, and then we go away and you can go your way."
Gerien gets the sense that she is being very literal and is looking at the situation as simple math, 6 is greater than 3, and seems amused but also a little confused about your party not playing along with the "script" so-to-speak.
She taps the side of the gourd, which gives a hollow thump that sounds vaguely of pleasure, "Your delight goes in here."
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |
"My delight from the best gift I was ever given, you say? Into the gourd? Well, that is quite a notion, Jebbek."
After a lengthy pause, Gerien adds, "This may take a great deal of time, I fear. Nearly thirty years have I roamed the Feywild, and in that time received many gifts, each of which brings delight in its own way. I'm sure you understand. The giddy delight of being in love...the awe-inspired delight of gazing at the heavens...the poignant delight of a mournful song...the primal delight of a huge meal...the intoxicating delight of a perfect wine...how shall I discern between all of these and so many others?"
The centaur then shrugs his shoulders, indicating he has no idea how to answer his own rhetorical quesiton. He watches Jebbek closely, wondering how his coy response will be received by the would-be robber.