Realms, both wondrous and dire, border the world. One such realm is the Shadowfell. Although not inherently evil, the Shadowfell is fraught with dangers, and the barrier between worlds can be thin. Sometimes the darkness breaks into the light. This will be an adventure for characters of level 1 to 3.
"I EMBRACE DEATH WITHOUT REGRET, AS I HAVE EMBRACED LIFE WITHOUT FEAR. BLOOD FOR THE PRINCE OF UNDEATH" - Cultist chant of Orcus, Demon Prince
Our adventure begins on the way to the village of Winterhaven. You'll need a reason as to why you're going there. Work with one of the hooks below, or make up your own.
HOOK 1: MISSING MENTOR.You seek news of your old friend and mentor, Douven Staul. He's the one who trained you for a life of adventure. Douven was a rabid explorer of old ruins, and had found a map that revealed the location of a dragon's tomb not far from the village of Winterhaven. He figured if a dragon was buried there, why not also its hoard? He couldn't stop talking about it and was so excited to set off, and that's exactly what he did three months ago. You haven't heard from him since. He was like a father figure to you, and you feel like you owe it to him to find his fate - for better, or worse.
HOOK 2: RUINS OF EMPIRE.The village of Winterhaven grew up in the shadow of an old keep. Like other similar structures across the land, the keep feel into disrepair when the Empire of Nerath crumbled a hundred years ago. Winterhaven survives to this day, a modest point of light in a world that has grown darker and more dangerous. A scholar by the name of Parle Cranewing hired you to locate the old keep and map what remains of it, promising to pay you for your time. You agree, for the ruins might contain the treasures and secrets of the vanished human empire.
HOOK 3: OMINOUS SIGNS. Marla of the Great Church, an earnest young priest of the deity Pelor, contacted you recently. She has been studying the history and activity of various demon and death cults. According to Marla's research, witnesses saw a small group of death cultists travelling toward Winterhaven about a year ago. She has since learned that the head of this group is a dangerous and twisted priest named Kalarel. Marla fears that Kalarel has set up a secret cult in the area and is conducting unholy ceremonies. She will pay you to travel to Winterhaven, determine if there is any death cult activity in the area, and, if so, stamp it out.
Sir Drinksalot, née Alfred Dinkleschmetty, was born to noble parents. At the ripe old age of five, he was shipped off to the Dharn Thorum Boarding School in the far-off kingdom of Hogduar. Never the best student, Alfred instead excelled at drinking, smoking, drug dealing, and chasing bearded dwarf girls. A constant resident of detention, the teachers and administrative staff were at wits end, trying to figure out how to deal with his antics. Coasting through all 40 years of school, they finally pushed him out with a degree in interior dungeon design, about as useless as Alfred was in life.
Unable to find a job, Alfred moved back in with his parents, in the royal palace. Spending most of his days in the tavern or the brothel, his parents quickly grew tired of him wasting their substantial fortune on drugs and alcohol. A continual blight on their good family name, they contacted his old boarding school, and asked for help. One of Alfred's previous professors, Douven Staul, was the only staff member willing to respond back. His brief note stated that he was exploring an ancient dragon's tomb, not far from the village of Winterhaven, and would be willing to take Alfred on a bodyguard, offering security for the expedition.
Alred's parents jumped at the chance to hopefully turn their son's life around, and quickly responded back that they were sending their boy post haste.
LATER
Alfred's luxurious coach arrives in Winterhaven. Coming to a stop in front of the local tavern, a footmen in splendid livery quickly steps off the carriage and opens the door. A large cloud of smoke billows out of the door. Alfred, with a long pipe clenched between gritted teeth, casually steps out, and proceeds to fall forward, landing flat on his face in the mud. The footman snickers, and quickly shuts the door behind him, and the carriage takes off with a bolt. A large steamer trunk is pushed off the back of carriage as it careens away, opens up, and spills the contents out all over the muddy cobblestone road.
Slowly and dizzily, Alfred picks himself up off the ground, dusts himself off, and proceeds to gather up his bloomers and armor, stuffing them hastily back into the steamer trunk. Shoving it to the side, he snaps his fingers when he looks up and sees the sign for the tavern, lazily swinging in the gentle breeze above him. A grin stretches from ear to ear, as Alfred casually strolls into the tavern and tokes away at his pipe. Noxious cloud in pursuit, Alfred bellies up to the bar and calls the barmaid over. "Your worst ale, ma'dam. And lot's of it. Keep it coming!" He drops a handful of coins on the bar, turns around, and leaning against the bar, observes the rest of the tavern's clientele, looking for some young babes to score with, if he plays his cards right.
She wasn't conceived by normal means, not birthed from her mothers womb, but instead she was created by a ritual found in thousand year old tombs by the woman she called her mother, Alessandra Navire. Lucina's creation was by no means a simple task as it had pushed Alessandra past her limits and challenged her very soul and mind, and required much vitality, but with her determination, she finally had succeeded in bring Lucina Navire to the world after many past failed attempts.
To say Alessandra didn't spoil her was an understatement, but that didn't mean she didn't raise her to not appreciate everything she had and be thankful for it. Alessandra loved her child dearly, and had decided the she would give Lucina the life that Melody could not have and taught her everything she knew on how to survive this world.
When it came time for Lucina to spread her wings, Alessandra had let her go with much hesitance, but she knew it was going to happen eventually. To help start her on her journey, her mother had suggested she seek out Parle Cranewing, an old acquaintance of hers who was looking for someone for hire. Finding that this was going to be a good start for her, Lucina wasted no time in taking the job and headed out to start a new chapter of her life.
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Aeydof the Dragons || Wood Elf / Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk Demetrios Zalaoras || Protector Aasimar / Paladin of Torm Hawke || Kalashtar / Circle of the Moon Druid Morticia || Half-Aasimar Rogue Yvan || Goliath / Path of the Wild Soul Barbarian | Paladin of Helm /ᐠ。ꞈ。ᐟ\
Fauna paces around the hut, impatient as she awaits news from the elders. She had been trained for this. Her father had trained her for this. And now that he has yet to return, after months of what sge was told was exploration, off to find some land he had always talked about, it was her turn. Her turn to help the tribe. Her turn to bring honor to the Zym family name as the great adventurer. The one who would lead their village to a new haven now that their old one was compromised. If only she was a little older. Then none of this, this waiting, this sense of uselessness, Would need to be happening. But she was worthy. And she was ready to prove it. Not only for herself, but for her father.
The sound of another's hooves made their way into the hut, drawing Fauna's attention. Before her was one of the elders, a contemplative look on his face.
Fauna's hooves click slightly as they contact with the earth, her great axe draped over her lower shoulders as she looks throughout the forests. Her fingers brushed the intricate symbol scratched into the bark of an old withered oak.
There was more to this now. More than just finding a new Haven. Finding her father. The minute she had stepped into Winterhaven, she felt it. The cold presence of something hidden. Something she needed to discover. A few days after she began to find signs of him, her father, littered throughout the forest like the others commonly would do. A symbol on a tree. A message written in the mud. The maps. The most commonly reoccurring signs.
Within every message she found, there seemed to be a map, intricately designed and marked based on locations in her fathers handwriting. Always initialed by two names. Her father's, and the other's. Douven. The longer she searched for them, the more frantic the messages became. Scarce. Until they stopped all together. This wasn't right and she knew that. She had to know what happened. Determined to know what happened to her father regardless of what she'd find. Even if it killed her.
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Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Belial was born with angelic blood, but her parents did not possess a reverence for the gods. At least not any gods worth serving anyway. When they saw that their child held divinity within her, they engaged in dark rituals, dedicating their child to Vecna, and severing that link she had to the light. And to show how dedicated they were to keeping their daughter away from the light, they allowed some of the essence of the Shadowfell to mix with her blood, changing her forever and granting her strange arcane powers.
Her parents spent her entire childhood training her to be a weapon for Vecna. To use her arcane powers to further his goals and to solve forbidden mysteries of the multiverse. But Belial wanted nothing of that when she saw the cruelty that her parents and the other followers were engaging in under the name of Vecna. So she left. She ran as far as she could, as fast as she could, eventually coming into contact with the church of Pelor. They granted shelter to the young woman and taught her that she didn't have to be what her parents wanted her to be. That even though they had corrupted the divine blood within her, she did not have to be a creature of the dark.
So when a fellow Pelorite named Marla contacted her and let her know of a death cult that needed to be taken care of in Winterhaven, Belial jumped at the chance. She set on the road to Winterhaven, where she just so happened to meet some fellow travelers. A centaur. And a fellow Aasimar! Belial catches up with her fellow travelers on the road and greets them. "Hey. Name's Belial, nice to meet you. If you don't mind my asking, are the two of you headed to Winterhaven as well?"
Belial is a woman in her early 20s with black hair, a sleeveless dark blue top with no back that shows off her cleavage as well as some of her midriff, a pair of black gloves, and some trousers.
"Blade" was a weapon. This was a truth he'd come to realize after a life of service and devotion, that came crashing down in what could be called a single moment. Once a Knight of the Silver Chalice, Blade made a name for himself for his steadfast devotion, martial prowess and angelic bloodline that paired with his blessings as a Paladin of the Crown. Despite being young, he disciplined himself in the teachings and codes of his order. However, like some folktale, all his discipline was forgotten, when he met her. The love of his life, yet also an enemy to his Order. He should have killed her when they first met...but he couldn't bring himself to.
In the two years he knew her, he felt himself fall deeper and deeper in love with her. She offered to run away with him, to escape both their factions so that they could live together, before it was to late....a part of him wished that he'd said yes that night. If he had, perhaps he wouldn't have had to watch and suffer as he and his comrades fought against waves of undead that threw themselves against them. All controlled by their dark masters, among who....was her. He and his companions cut through the swarms of weak, yet numerous undead, aided by their blessed powers. However when the moment came to take her down....he couldn't. That moment of hesitation was all that was needed as the swarm overtook his comrades again, his love smiling at him sadly.....come the next day, Blade, as he came to call himself, walked away his life, his armor broken, oathbroken, and the wings and color that had adorned him as a celestial child, were slowly shedding radiant feathers with every step. Yet he kept walking, cause he didn't know what else to do.
Walking alongside other travelers headed for Winterhaven, Blade kept mostly to himself. His armor was a set of broken plate held in place by chain mail, and a trialed blade that sat on his back. His helmeted head was hung low, and he walked solemnly, but with strength. Hearing the fellow fallen Aasimar speak, Blade lifts his head slightly to look at her and respond, "Blade....and, I suppose so."
Blade was a man standing straight at 6ft 2in w/ a strong build. His armor hid most of his features, but some ashen white skin and black hair peaked out. Not to mention a pair of Violet eyes that could be seen when he looked up.
No matter who I tell, no matter when I say it, people look at me like i'm crazy.
So, I don't share it anymore.
In order to put this into perspective, I must explain a little about my past and how this came to be. I am a tiefling. I know that at one point I had parents. I don't know what happened to them, but I do know I was raised on Avernus, the first layer of Hell, during a period of time known as the War Against Acheron. It was during this time I was reared and trained, where Hell defended itself against Acheron - led by the mighty Primes - fighting us back with a tenacity and ferocity unlike my people had never known. Under the command of Archdevil Zariel, I was indoctrinated into the Infernal War Machine and showed a love of healing, of helping the sick, of caring for the wounded. I had a knack for it and that is what I did. Eventually, I had reached the rank of Lieutenant Preceptor. In an effort to turn the tide, I was forced to use my medical talents in horrible ways beyond description. I had a conflict of loyalties, I defected, and was deemed a traitor to the War Effort.
I managed to escape Avernus to the Sword Coast, and yearned to have a normal life free of Hellish servitude. I rode on a caravan north, and when we reached Greenest, a series of events unfolded that changed my life forever. Bell. Astrid. Messalina. Li'riya. Edward. These are people I used to call friends.
TODAY
I am tired. I am young, but I feel old, and weary. I am a woman without purpose, scarred by the events of my past - and either unwilling or unable to cope with what I have seen. The guilt I carry on my shoulders is heavy, and even walking is an effort. Could it be that I know great evil exists? Or maybe it's how I miss my friends so dearly? Or perhaps how I let them all suffer and everything I had wasn't good enough to stop the Queen of Dragons? Even Asmodeus mocks me, he lets me keep my powers because, perhaps, he knows one day I will return to Avernus?
This road i'm on. It hasn't been updated or used in decades. I know not where it goes. I haven't eaten in days, and I can feel my fatigue strengthen with every step, my backpack slouches off my shoulders as I slump, the very weight of it getting heavier and heavier, like my guilt. Dizziness and exhaustion overcome me and I fall over to the ground.
As I drift into unconsciousness, I can hear voices behind me on the road. Other travelers? For the first time in my life I pray for release from this world, and hope that they will be the ones to deliver it.
Nineteen years ago, the Belle of the Sea sailed into the sunset.
Eighteen years ago, Sana Daltos bore twin children, a boy and a girl.
Twelve years ago, the girl discovered an affinity for storm magic.
Twelve years ago, the twins manifested minor fey powers.
Five years ago, the boy began to learn.
A year ago, the boy mastered his magic...sort of.
Two weeks ago, something terrible happened.
Two weeks ago, the twins left on a search.
Alia Daltos hummed softly as she walked down the path, an ethereally haunting tune. Little of the young woman's slim form is visible beneath her long cloak, the hood pulled up over her head. No hair peeks out from under the hood, but her electric blue eyes catch the attention of everyone who looks at her. They literally glow with lightning, and crackle with the energy of a storm. Her olive skinned face is often set is a serious expression, watching everything thoughtfully.
She glanced at her brother, walking beside her. "So, do you think the next town will have-" Spotting the tiefling unconscious on the road, she gasped. "Problem! Caim, c'mon, we gotta help!" Alia took off towards the white tiefling.
Sir Drinksalot stumbles out of the tavern with a groupie under each arm. "allrightallrightallright...lezgetthispartystarted" he manages to jumble out in one long mumbled phrase, before promptly tripping off of the front step, and once again, landing face first on the cobblestone street below, passing out.
12 Hours Later
He very carefully levered up an eyelid and shut it again fast. A merciless sunbeam had squirted straight in, making his brain bleed. Alfred was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way… He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the morning… His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum.
Alfred was thirsty and his head hurt and his mouth tasted evil and his eyes were too tight in his head and all his teeth twinged and his stomach burned and his back was aching in a way that started around his knees and went up to his forehead and his brains had been removed and replaced with cotton balls and needles and pins which was why it hurt to try and think, and his eyes were not just too tight in his head but they must have rolled out in the night and been reattached with roofing nails; and now he noticed that anything louder than the gentle motion of air molecules drifting softly past each other was above his pain threshold. Also, he wished he were dead.
Peeling himself up off the ground, which took no small effort, took about ten long minutes. Staring down at him was a raven, perched on a swinging sign, laughing her mirthless laugh at the tottering dwarf below. Sloppily swinging at the raven and missing, Alfred's large fist instead contacted with the sign. Sending a stinging pain down his arm like a bolt of electricity, Alfred cried out in abject pain "Why you fish-catching, toe-biting, nib-chewing, poetry-reading, rat-eaten, ballet-dancing, axe-breaking, nose-picking, lice-ridden, hanky-waving, adle-pated, elf-kissing, two-faced, mucus-oozing tunnel worm!!!!!"
Having gotten that off his enormous chest, Alfred finally settled down, and absentmindedly stared up at the sign his fist casually introduced itself with.
Welcome to the Upset Angel Tavern, City of Highmoon, Established 1026
Gears slowly started to turn inside Alfred's head, but they were slow gears, pushed by a rusty and inadequate transmission.
"WHAT!? The mother effers dropped me off in the wrong city?!"
Quickly gathering up his steamer trunk, Alfred stumbled around town until he found an intercity covered wagon service. Quickly plunking down several gold pieces, he caught the next wagon to Winterhaven.
After a short, bumpy ride, the wagon came upon a group of travelers on the road, all standing over a ghostly white tiefling laying in the middle of the road. Annoyed, Alfred slaps the side of the wagon and calls out to the driver "Chop chop, driver, I got a frosty cold one waiting for me in Winterhaven!" Ignoring the rude passenger, the driver instead pulls the reins on the oxen, bringing the wagon to a halt right next to the gathered group. Further annoyed, Alfred rips open the door and stumbles out onto the ground below. Standing up and dusting himself off, he calls out "Whatsa matter here? That little one can't hold her liquor?!" and then proceeds to chuckle at his own stupid sophomoric joke.
"Skye!" A redheaded woman bolts upright with a loud gasp of breath, her eyes wide in panic. She feels frantic with a sense of dread, as if she's looking for someone, reaching for them. PANG! An immediate mind splitting headache cuts through the right side of her head, causing her to grasp her head with a loud scream. She'd double over in agony, her body curling into the fetal position. Clink. A metal object slips from its place on her chest to the cold stone ground beneath her. All goes black.
So warm. So cozy. Is this the warmth of the sun? Her eyes would flutter, struggling to open with the late morning sunlight pouring through a window. She'd move her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, only for it to still be too strong. Ugh. She'd turn over in bed, pulling the covers over her head. Wait, I'm in a bed? The redhead could feel the soft warmth of material hugging around her.
"Ahh. I see you're finally awake." A young woman's voice could be heard next to her. It calmed her. "Don't sit up abruptly. You've suffered a traumatic head injury."
She'd peek out from under the blanket, after a few blinks, it looks like young female priest.
"My name is Marla. You were found on the steps of the Great Church last night."
-
It's been months since I awoke. The dreams only get more vivid. The more I remember, the more I want to forget. A pale freckled reflection with amber eyes stares back at her in the mirror. Why does it feel like a completely different person? Who was I? The redhead would sweep her wavy locks to the side to expose the scars on her head. Who am I? She'd run her fingers along the scars.
Who can I become? I want to do better.
"Stacey. Are you ready?"
Marla's voice would snap her out of her daze and she'd turn away from the mirror.
"I've packed extra supplies."
Marla would push another healers kit into her hands with some extra rations.
"Enough to share."
Marla always made sure she never went without.
"Now go. May the light lead your way."
And off I go.
-
Stacey would weave on and off the path, picking up any herbs or checking out other edible plants along the way. She'd be off the trail when someone would pipe up about a body down the road. She'd skip to catch up and to check it out.
Nineteen years ago, the Belle of the Sea sailed into the sunset. Eighteen years ago, Sana Daltos bore twin children, a boy and a girl.Twelve years ago, the girl discovered an affinity for storm magic.Twelve years ago, the twins manifested minor fey powers.The girl was a natural. Even-keeled like their father, Chandor. Rooted in purpose. Steady in progress. A hero in the making.She was born to command the storm, wield its power...its magic. The boy was different. He was the storm. Wild. Dangerous. Untamed. Unsteady.So as it was said, twelve years ago, the boy began to learn under the guidance of their family friend. And, a year ago, the boy mastered his magic...no, that's not quite right...a year ago, the boy's magic found a voice.
But, two weeks ago, something terrible did happen.
And now the twins seek answers.
One steady.
One not.
Both deterimined.
Caim Daltos walked aside his sister, watching their surroundings with a bit of wonder, all while scratching mindlessly at his right forearm, which appears marked by stark white lines in the skin that spread across the length of it until they disappear beneath his sleeves. His legs ached. So much walking. So much solid ground. He missed the sea. He missed the gentle ebb and flow of the waves. The way things should be. Where Alia Daltos was reserved, hidden in her cloaks and hoods from the prying eyes, her brother's mere presence seemed to scream for attention. Thin and lanky like his sibling, a mop of stark white hair sat atop the somewhat gray, ashy-skinned teen with a toothy smile. His simple leathers were hidden beneath the flamboyant garb of the traveling sea folk. Numerous sea shells, feathers, fish bones and other trinkets dotted his attire or dangled from a headband that was unsuccessfully trying to tame his wild mane. His thoughts strayed to the sea, the call of the birds, the scents of the ocean. His daydream, though, broken at his sister's sudden change in tone. A smile breaks across his face as he turns to see the scene.
"Well, it's about time something interesting happened."
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Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd) Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist) Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
Belial holds off on going into further conversation with the other two aasimar when she sees the Tiefling woman collapse. "Just a minute! Looks like she needs some help." She runs over to the woman, lifting her head up and pressing her fingers to the woman's neck, feeling for a pulse. "Oh thank the gods, she's still alive." Belial couldn't help but notice that the woman was beautiful, although she looked exhausted in every sense of the word and more than a bit famished. She used all of the healing energy she had to bring the woman back to consciousness. It wasn't much, but the woman wouldn't die. She puts her finger over the woman's lips. "You're exhausted. Please, save your energy and don't speak too much." She reaches into her pack and pulls out some rations. "You're hungry. They aren't much, but the should keep you from starving so that we can get to town and get you an actual meal. My name is Belial, by the way. That's Blade and this is" She realizes that she never got the name of the aasimar woman and as she turns around to ask, she notices that more people have come over, also attracted by the fallen tiefling.
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Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
As Fauna is met by the others, she calmly brushes the side of her hair out of her eyes and offers them a smile. Fauna was roughly 5 feet in height from head to hoof. Her soft short hair brown with the spots of a young deer along her more equine back. Her white tail short but happily flicking occasionally. A leaf green top covered her chest, a matching green apron tied where her two halves met, draping along the front of her. As she looked at everyone curiously, her bright green eyes skimming each of you, her small rare horns are visible poking out of her hair and skull, her deer ears folded slightly at the sides of her head, and light white freckles along her cheeks matching those similar to the ones on her back are easily visible against her dark skin. Looking at her, she couldn't be any older than 14, her eyes studying you all with a mix of curiosity and hesitancy before she looks down at the woman, choosing to ignore the boisterous dwarf for now.
"I'm Fauna Zym. And I suppose we are all headed that way? Will she be alright? We should get her to town yes? If you need she can ride on my back. I don't think she should walk in that condition..."
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Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
The other aasimar woman had long white hair, pulled away from her face in an up-down hairstyle that gave those that gazed upon her a view of her blood red eyes. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, brow raised in question at the now conscious tiefling woman, wondering if she would go against her savior and speak or do anything for that matter. She is shaken away from her thought though when Belial tries introducing her, not having properly told them her name. "Oh, right, sorry. My name is Lucina Navire." She bows before them, her eyes now trained on the tiefling. "Nice to meet you... Ma'am..."
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Aeydof the Dragons || Wood Elf / Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk Demetrios Zalaoras || Protector Aasimar / Paladin of Torm Hawke || Kalashtar / Circle of the Moon Druid Morticia || Half-Aasimar Rogue Yvan || Goliath / Path of the Wild Soul Barbarian | Paladin of Helm /ᐠ。ꞈ。ᐟ\
Stacey would duck and sneak between the growing group of onlookers to get her own look at the fallen.
Bandaid.
The redhead would stick a bandaid on the tiefling's forehead after one of the aasimars would touch her. She'd follow up with a gentle touch to the nose. "Boop!" And the rogue would duck and scurry out of the way to stand on the outside of the group.
The fair skinned freckled woman stands just over 5 feet tall. "Aye, the name's Stacey." She'd give a simple dimpled smile accompanied by a little wave.
Alia relaxes somewhat as the tiefling is healed. "Oh, yes...hello, I'm Alia." She gives the gathered group a faint smile before returning her attention to the tiefling. "Excuse me, are you all right? What happened, why are you in this state?"
"Maybeh." She'd tilt her head to the side still smiling. "You did the hard work though Belial."
Stacey would take a few steps in to look closely at the aasimars in the group. She was probably invading some personal space, but didn't realize it, going on her tippy toes to look closer before backing away.
Much to her surprise, Camilla was barely conscious when she felt someone lift up her head.
"If you're going to kill me.." she mumbled. "..make sure your blade cuts across the internal carotid arteries just next to the vertebral arteries and above the subclavian-"she noticed that everyone around her was looking at her with various emotions, and they weren't finishing her off, they..helped her?
"Wait a moment.."she said, looking around. She pushed her overly large glasses back on her nose and squinted to get a grip on the situation. "You're..not killing me? You healed me."She did her best to sit up. "Oh my, this is a bit embarrassing. I uh...I must have fallen while walking. Just thought..uh, sure, this looks like a nice place for a nap! Yes! I was just uh, resting my eyes."
Camilla had big beautiful blue eyes, flowing light blonde hair, and extremely pale skin, almost white. She was about 5'6", very slender, and looked currently extremely tired and fatigued from hunger. Her robe was dirty and a bit undone, and while not the picture perfect athletic type, it was easy to tell she spent her life in front of books or studying but had an attractive appeal to her, a natural beauty that radiated from her.
"Oh, who am I fooling. No one, that's who. You all are adventurers I take it?"she asked everyone, smiling weakly. She then blinked a few times, and slowly reached up and touched a band-aid on her face. "Wh..?"
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***PLACEHOLDER DO NOT POST***
*CRISPYDM PRESENTS*
KEEP ON THE SHADOWFELL - COMING IN DECEMBER
Realms, both wondrous and dire, border the world. One such realm is the Shadowfell. Although not inherently evil, the Shadowfell is fraught with dangers, and the barrier between worlds can be thin. Sometimes the darkness breaks into the light. This will be an adventure for characters of level 1 to 3.
"I EMBRACE DEATH WITHOUT REGRET, AS I HAVE EMBRACED LIFE WITHOUT FEAR. BLOOD FOR THE PRINCE OF UNDEATH" - Cultist chant of Orcus, Demon Prince
COMING IN DECEMBER
***PLACEHOLDER DO NOT POST***
Our adventure begins on the way to the village of Winterhaven. You'll need a reason as to why you're going there. Work with one of the hooks below, or make up your own.
HOOK 1: MISSING MENTOR. You seek news of your old friend and mentor, Douven Staul. He's the one who trained you for a life of adventure. Douven was a rabid explorer of old ruins, and had found a map that revealed the location of a dragon's tomb not far from the village of Winterhaven. He figured if a dragon was buried there, why not also its hoard? He couldn't stop talking about it and was so excited to set off, and that's exactly what he did three months ago. You haven't heard from him since. He was like a father figure to you, and you feel like you owe it to him to find his fate - for better, or worse.
HOOK 2: RUINS OF EMPIRE. The village of Winterhaven grew up in the shadow of an old keep. Like other similar structures across the land, the keep feel into disrepair when the Empire of Nerath crumbled a hundred years ago. Winterhaven survives to this day, a modest point of light in a world that has grown darker and more dangerous. A scholar by the name of Parle Cranewing hired you to locate the old keep and map what remains of it, promising to pay you for your time. You agree, for the ruins might contain the treasures and secrets of the vanished human empire.
HOOK 3: OMINOUS SIGNS. Marla of the Great Church, an earnest young priest of the deity Pelor, contacted you recently. She has been studying the history and activity of various demon and death cults. According to Marla's research, witnesses saw a small group of death cultists travelling toward Winterhaven about a year ago. She has since learned that the head of this group is a dangerous and twisted priest named Kalarel. Marla fears that Kalarel has set up a secret cult in the area and is conducting unholy ceremonies. She will pay you to travel to Winterhaven, determine if there is any death cult activity in the area, and, if so, stamp it out.
Sir Drinksalot, née Alfred Dinkleschmetty, was born to noble parents. At the ripe old age of five, he was shipped off to the Dharn Thorum Boarding School in the far-off kingdom of Hogduar. Never the best student, Alfred instead excelled at drinking, smoking, drug dealing, and chasing bearded dwarf girls. A constant resident of detention, the teachers and administrative staff were at wits end, trying to figure out how to deal with his antics. Coasting through all 40 years of school, they finally pushed him out with a degree in interior dungeon design, about as useless as Alfred was in life.
Unable to find a job, Alfred moved back in with his parents, in the royal palace. Spending most of his days in the tavern or the brothel, his parents quickly grew tired of him wasting their substantial fortune on drugs and alcohol. A continual blight on their good family name, they contacted his old boarding school, and asked for help. One of Alfred's previous professors, Douven Staul, was the only staff member willing to respond back. His brief note stated that he was exploring an ancient dragon's tomb, not far from the village of Winterhaven, and would be willing to take Alfred on a bodyguard, offering security for the expedition.
Alred's parents jumped at the chance to hopefully turn their son's life around, and quickly responded back that they were sending their boy post haste.
LATER
Alfred's luxurious coach arrives in Winterhaven. Coming to a stop in front of the local tavern, a footmen in splendid livery quickly steps off the carriage and opens the door. A large cloud of smoke billows out of the door. Alfred, with a long pipe clenched between gritted teeth, casually steps out, and proceeds to fall forward, landing flat on his face in the mud. The footman snickers, and quickly shuts the door behind him, and the carriage takes off with a bolt. A large steamer trunk is pushed off the back of carriage as it careens away, opens up, and spills the contents out all over the muddy cobblestone road.
Slowly and dizzily, Alfred picks himself up off the ground, dusts himself off, and proceeds to gather up his bloomers and armor, stuffing them hastily back into the steamer trunk. Shoving it to the side, he snaps his fingers when he looks up and sees the sign for the tavern, lazily swinging in the gentle breeze above him. A grin stretches from ear to ear, as Alfred casually strolls into the tavern and tokes away at his pipe. Noxious cloud in pursuit, Alfred bellies up to the bar and calls the barmaid over. "Your worst ale, ma'dam. And lot's of it. Keep it coming!" He drops a handful of coins on the bar, turns around, and leaning against the bar, observes the rest of the tavern's clientele, looking for some young babes to score with, if he plays his cards right.
Last to know and first to be blamed...
As a free action, can I regret my life choices?
Lucina wasn't an ordinary child.
She wasn't conceived by normal means, not birthed from her mothers womb, but instead she was created by a ritual found in thousand year old tombs by the woman she called her mother, Alessandra Navire. Lucina's creation was by no means a simple task as it had pushed Alessandra past her limits and challenged her very soul and mind, and required much vitality, but with her determination, she finally had succeeded in bring Lucina Navire to the world after many past failed attempts.
To say Alessandra didn't spoil her was an understatement, but that didn't mean she didn't raise her to not appreciate everything she had and be thankful for it. Alessandra loved her child dearly, and had decided the she would give Lucina the life that Melody could not have and taught her everything she knew on how to survive this world.
When it came time for Lucina to spread her wings, Alessandra had let her go with much hesitance, but she knew it was going to happen eventually. To help start her on her journey, her mother had suggested she seek out Parle Cranewing, an old acquaintance of hers who was looking for someone for hire. Finding that this was going to be a good start for her, Lucina wasted no time in taking the job and headed out to start a new chapter of her life.
Aeyd of the Dragons || Wood Elf / Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk
Demetrios Zalaoras || Protector Aasimar / Paladin of Torm
Hawke || Kalashtar / Circle of the Moon Druid
Morticia || Half-Aasimar Rogue
Yvan || Goliath / Path of the Wild Soul Barbarian | Paladin of Helm
/ᐠ。ꞈ。ᐟ\
Fauna paces around the hut, impatient as she awaits news from the elders. She had been trained for this. Her father had trained her for this. And now that he has yet to return, after months of what sge was told was exploration, off to find some land he had always talked about, it was her turn. Her turn to help the tribe. Her turn to bring honor to the Zym family name as the great adventurer. The one who would lead their village to a new haven now that their old one was compromised. If only she was a little older. Then none of this, this waiting, this sense of uselessness, Would need to be happening. But she was worthy. And she was ready to prove it. Not only for herself, but for her father.
The sound of another's hooves made their way into the hut, drawing Fauna's attention. Before her was one of the elders, a contemplative look on his face.
"Come child. We have much to discuss."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fauna's hooves click slightly as they contact with the earth, her great axe draped over her lower shoulders as she looks throughout the forests. Her fingers brushed the intricate symbol scratched into the bark of an old withered oak.
There was more to this now. More than just finding a new Haven. Finding her father. The minute she had stepped into Winterhaven, she felt it. The cold presence of something hidden. Something she needed to discover. A few days after she began to find signs of him, her father, littered throughout the forest like the others commonly would do. A symbol on a tree. A message written in the mud. The maps. The most commonly reoccurring signs.
Within every message she found, there seemed to be a map, intricately designed and marked based on locations in her fathers handwriting. Always initialed by two names. Her father's, and the other's. Douven. The longer she searched for them, the more frantic the messages became. Scarce. Until they stopped all together. This wasn't right and she knew that. She had to know what happened. Determined to know what happened to her father regardless of what she'd find. Even if it killed her.
Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Willow Twilight|Swiftstride Shifter|Blood Hunter|Ebberon|Retired
Meephylia Polliwog|Grung|Dragon Sorcerer|Descent To Avernus|Retired
Ashryn Rairs|Changeling|Hexblade Warlock|Out Of The Abyss|Dead
Belial was born with angelic blood, but her parents did not possess a reverence for the gods. At least not any gods worth serving anyway. When they saw that their child held divinity within her, they engaged in dark rituals, dedicating their child to Vecna, and severing that link she had to the light. And to show how dedicated they were to keeping their daughter away from the light, they allowed some of the essence of the Shadowfell to mix with her blood, changing her forever and granting her strange arcane powers.
Her parents spent her entire childhood training her to be a weapon for Vecna. To use her arcane powers to further his goals and to solve forbidden mysteries of the multiverse. But Belial wanted nothing of that when she saw the cruelty that her parents and the other followers were engaging in under the name of Vecna. So she left. She ran as far as she could, as fast as she could, eventually coming into contact with the church of Pelor. They granted shelter to the young woman and taught her that she didn't have to be what her parents wanted her to be. That even though they had corrupted the divine blood within her, she did not have to be a creature of the dark.
So when a fellow Pelorite named Marla contacted her and let her know of a death cult that needed to be taken care of in Winterhaven, Belial jumped at the chance. She set on the road to Winterhaven, where she just so happened to meet some fellow travelers. A centaur. And a fellow Aasimar! Belial catches up with her fellow travelers on the road and greets them. "Hey. Name's Belial, nice to meet you. If you don't mind my asking, are the two of you headed to Winterhaven as well?"
Belial is a woman in her early 20s with black hair, a sleeveless dark blue top with no back that shows off her cleavage as well as some of her midriff, a pair of black gloves, and some trousers.
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
More
"Blade" was a weapon. This was a truth he'd come to realize after a life of service and devotion, that came crashing down in what could be called a single moment. Once a Knight of the Silver Chalice, Blade made a name for himself for his steadfast devotion, martial prowess and angelic bloodline that paired with his blessings as a Paladin of the Crown. Despite being young, he disciplined himself in the teachings and codes of his order. However, like some folktale, all his discipline was forgotten, when he met her. The love of his life, yet also an enemy to his Order. He should have killed her when they first met...but he couldn't bring himself to.
In the two years he knew her, he felt himself fall deeper and deeper in love with her. She offered to run away with him, to escape both their factions so that they could live together, before it was to late....a part of him wished that he'd said yes that night. If he had, perhaps he wouldn't have had to watch and suffer as he and his comrades fought against waves of undead that threw themselves against them. All controlled by their dark masters, among who....was her. He and his companions cut through the swarms of weak, yet numerous undead, aided by their blessed powers. However when the moment came to take her down....he couldn't. That moment of hesitation was all that was needed as the swarm overtook his comrades again, his love smiling at him sadly.....come the next day, Blade, as he came to call himself, walked away his life, his armor broken, oathbroken, and the wings and color that had adorned him as a celestial child, were slowly shedding radiant feathers with every step. Yet he kept walking, cause he didn't know what else to do.
Walking alongside other travelers headed for Winterhaven, Blade kept mostly to himself. His armor was a set of broken plate held in place by chain mail, and a trialed blade that sat on his back. His helmeted head was hung low, and he walked solemnly, but with strength. Hearing the fellow fallen Aasimar speak, Blade lifts his head slightly to look at her and respond, "Blade....and, I suppose so."
Blade was a man standing straight at 6ft 2in w/ a strong build. His armor hid most of his features, but some ashen white skin and black hair peaked out. Not to mention a pair of Violet eyes that could be seen when he looked up.
BEFORE
I have a story to share that no one believes.
No matter who I tell, no matter when I say it, people look at me like i'm crazy.
So, I don't share it anymore.
In order to put this into perspective, I must explain a little about my past and how this came to be. I am a tiefling. I know that at one point I had parents. I don't know what happened to them, but I do know I was raised on Avernus, the first layer of Hell, during a period of time known as the War Against Acheron. It was during this time I was reared and trained, where Hell defended itself against Acheron - led by the mighty Primes - fighting us back with a tenacity and ferocity unlike my people had never known. Under the command of Archdevil Zariel, I was indoctrinated into the Infernal War Machine and showed a love of healing, of helping the sick, of caring for the wounded. I had a knack for it and that is what I did. Eventually, I had reached the rank of Lieutenant Preceptor. In an effort to turn the tide, I was forced to use my medical talents in horrible ways beyond description. I had a conflict of loyalties, I defected, and was deemed a traitor to the War Effort.
I managed to escape Avernus to the Sword Coast, and yearned to have a normal life free of Hellish servitude. I rode on a caravan north, and when we reached Greenest, a series of events unfolded that changed my life forever. Bell. Astrid. Messalina. Li'riya. Edward. These are people I used to call friends.
TODAY
I am tired. I am young, but I feel old, and weary. I am a woman without purpose, scarred by the events of my past - and either unwilling or unable to cope with what I have seen. The guilt I carry on my shoulders is heavy, and even walking is an effort. Could it be that I know great evil exists? Or maybe it's how I miss my friends so dearly? Or perhaps how I let them all suffer and everything I had wasn't good enough to stop the Queen of Dragons? Even Asmodeus mocks me, he lets me keep my powers because, perhaps, he knows one day I will return to Avernus?
This road i'm on. It hasn't been updated or used in decades. I know not where it goes. I haven't eaten in days, and I can feel my fatigue strengthen with every step, my backpack slouches off my shoulders as I slump, the very weight of it getting heavier and heavier, like my guilt. Dizziness and exhaustion overcome me and I fall over to the ground.
As I drift into unconsciousness, I can hear voices behind me on the road. Other travelers? For the first time in my life I pray for release from this world, and hope that they will be the ones to deliver it.
Goodbye, Bell. Wherever you are..I love you.
Nineteen years ago, the Belle of the Sea sailed into the sunset.
Eighteen years ago, Sana Daltos bore twin children, a boy and a girl.
Twelve years ago, the girl discovered an affinity for storm magic.
Twelve years ago, the twins manifested minor fey powers.
Five years ago, the boy began to learn.
A year ago, the boy mastered his magic...sort of.
Two weeks ago, something terrible happened.
Two weeks ago, the twins left on a search.
Alia Daltos hummed softly as she walked down the path, an ethereally haunting tune. Little of the young woman's slim form is visible beneath her long cloak, the hood pulled up over her head. No hair peeks out from under the hood, but her electric blue eyes catch the attention of everyone who looks at her. They literally glow with lightning, and crackle with the energy of a storm. Her olive skinned face is often set is a serious expression, watching everything thoughtfully.
She glanced at her brother, walking beside her. "So, do you think the next town will have-" Spotting the tiefling unconscious on the road, she gasped. "Problem! Caim, c'mon, we gotta help!" Alia took off towards the white tiefling.
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
12 Hours Later
Sir Drinksalot stumbles out of the tavern with a groupie under each arm. "allrightallrightallright...lezgetthispartystarted" he manages to jumble out in one long mumbled phrase, before promptly tripping off of the front step, and once again, landing face first on the cobblestone street below, passing out.
12 Hours Later
He very carefully levered up an eyelid and shut it again fast. A merciless sunbeam had squirted straight in, making his brain bleed. Alfred was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way… He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the morning… His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum.
Alfred was thirsty and his head hurt and his mouth tasted evil and his eyes were too tight in his head and all his teeth twinged and his stomach burned and his back was aching in a way that started around his knees and went up to his forehead and his brains had been removed and replaced with cotton balls and needles and pins which was why it hurt to try and think, and his eyes were not just too tight in his head but they must have rolled out in the night and been reattached with roofing nails; and now he noticed that anything louder than the gentle motion of air molecules drifting softly past each other was above his pain threshold. Also, he wished he were dead.
Peeling himself up off the ground, which took no small effort, took about ten long minutes. Staring down at him was a raven, perched on a swinging sign, laughing her mirthless laugh at the tottering dwarf below. Sloppily swinging at the raven and missing, Alfred's large fist instead contacted with the sign. Sending a stinging pain down his arm like a bolt of electricity, Alfred cried out in abject pain "Why you fish-catching, toe-biting, nib-chewing, poetry-reading, rat-eaten, ballet-dancing, axe-breaking, nose-picking, lice-ridden, hanky-waving, adle-pated, elf-kissing, two-faced, mucus-oozing tunnel worm!!!!!"
Having gotten that off his enormous chest, Alfred finally settled down, and absentmindedly stared up at the sign his fist casually introduced itself with.
Welcome to the Upset Angel Tavern, City of Highmoon, Established 1026
Gears slowly started to turn inside Alfred's head, but they were slow gears, pushed by a rusty and inadequate transmission.
"WHAT!? The mother effers dropped me off in the wrong city?!"
Quickly gathering up his steamer trunk, Alfred stumbled around town until he found an intercity covered wagon service. Quickly plunking down several gold pieces, he caught the next wagon to Winterhaven.
After a short, bumpy ride, the wagon came upon a group of travelers on the road, all standing over a ghostly white tiefling laying in the middle of the road. Annoyed, Alfred slaps the side of the wagon and calls out to the driver "Chop chop, driver, I got a frosty cold one waiting for me in Winterhaven!" Ignoring the rude passenger, the driver instead pulls the reins on the oxen, bringing the wagon to a halt right next to the gathered group. Further annoyed, Alfred rips open the door and stumbles out onto the ground below. Standing up and dusting himself off, he calls out "Whatsa matter here? That little one can't hold her liquor?!" and then proceeds to chuckle at his own stupid sophomoric joke.
Last to know and first to be blamed...
As a free action, can I regret my life choices?
"Skye!" A redheaded woman bolts upright with a loud gasp of breath, her eyes wide in panic. She feels frantic with a sense of dread, as if she's looking for someone, reaching for them. PANG! An immediate mind splitting headache cuts through the right side of her head, causing her to grasp her head with a loud scream. She'd double over in agony, her body curling into the fetal position. Clink. A metal object slips from its place on her chest to the cold stone ground beneath her. All goes black.
So warm. So cozy. Is this the warmth of the sun? Her eyes would flutter, struggling to open with the late morning sunlight pouring through a window. She'd move her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, only for it to still be too strong. Ugh. She'd turn over in bed, pulling the covers over her head. Wait, I'm in a bed? The redhead could feel the soft warmth of material hugging around her.
"Ahh. I see you're finally awake." A young woman's voice could be heard next to her. It calmed her. "Don't sit up abruptly. You've suffered a traumatic head injury."
She'd peek out from under the blanket, after a few blinks, it looks like young female priest.
"My name is Marla. You were found on the steps of the Great Church last night."
-
It's been months since I awoke. The dreams only get more vivid. The more I remember, the more I want to forget. A pale freckled reflection with amber eyes stares back at her in the mirror. Why does it feel like a completely different person? Who was I? The redhead would sweep her wavy locks to the side to expose the scars on her head. Who am I? She'd run her fingers along the scars.
Who can I become? I want to do better.
"Stacey. Are you ready?"
Marla's voice would snap her out of her daze and she'd turn away from the mirror.
"I've packed extra supplies."
Marla would push another healers kit into her hands with some extra rations.
"Enough to share."
Marla always made sure she never went without.
"Now go. May the light lead your way."
And off I go.
-
Stacey would weave on and off the path, picking up any herbs or checking out other edible plants along the way. She'd be off the trail when someone would pipe up about a body down the road. She'd skip to catch up and to check it out.
just an unstable unicorn.
Nineteen years ago, the Belle of the Sea sailed into the sunset. Eighteen years ago, Sana Daltos bore twin children, a boy and a girl. Twelve years ago, the girl discovered an affinity for storm magic. Twelve years ago, the twins manifested minor fey powers. The girl was a natural. Even-keeled like their father, Chandor. Rooted in purpose. Steady in progress. A hero in the making. She was born to command the storm, wield its power...its magic. The boy was different. He was the storm. Wild. Dangerous. Untamed. Unsteady. So as it was said, twelve years ago, the boy began to learn under the guidance of their family friend. And, a year ago, the boy mastered his magic...no, that's not quite right...a year ago, the boy's magic found a voice.
But, two weeks ago, something terrible did happen.
And now the twins seek answers.
One steady.
One not.
Both deterimined.
Caim Daltos walked aside his sister, watching their surroundings with a bit of wonder, all while scratching mindlessly at his right forearm, which appears marked by stark white lines in the skin that spread across the length of it until they disappear beneath his sleeves. His legs ached. So much walking. So much solid ground. He missed the sea. He missed the gentle ebb and flow of the waves. The way things should be. Where Alia Daltos was reserved, hidden in her cloaks and hoods from the prying eyes, her brother's mere presence seemed to scream for attention. Thin and lanky like his sibling, a mop of stark white hair sat atop the somewhat gray, ashy-skinned teen with a toothy smile. His simple leathers were hidden beneath the flamboyant garb of the traveling sea folk. Numerous sea shells, feathers, fish bones and other trinkets dotted his attire or dangled from a headband that was unsuccessfully trying to tame his wild mane. His thoughts strayed to the sea, the call of the birds, the scents of the ocean. His daydream, though, broken at his sister's sudden change in tone. A smile breaks across his face as he turns to see the scene.
"Well, it's about time something interesting happened."
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd)
Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist)
Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
Belial holds off on going into further conversation with the other two aasimar when she sees the Tiefling woman collapse. "Just a minute! Looks like she needs some help." She runs over to the woman, lifting her head up and pressing her fingers to the woman's neck, feeling for a pulse. "Oh thank the gods, she's still alive." Belial couldn't help but notice that the woman was beautiful, although she looked exhausted in every sense of the word and more than a bit famished. She used all of the healing energy she had to bring the woman back to consciousness. It wasn't much, but the woman wouldn't die. She puts her finger over the woman's lips. "You're exhausted. Please, save your energy and don't speak too much." She reaches into her pack and pulls out some rations. "You're hungry. They aren't much, but the should keep you from starving so that we can get to town and get you an actual meal. My name is Belial, by the way. That's Blade and this is" She realizes that she never got the name of the aasimar woman and as she turns around to ask, she notices that more people have come over, also attracted by the fallen tiefling.
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
More
As Fauna is met by the others, she calmly brushes the side of her hair out of her eyes and offers them a smile. Fauna was roughly 5 feet in height from head to hoof. Her soft short hair brown with the spots of a young deer along her more equine back. Her white tail short but happily flicking occasionally. A leaf green top covered her chest, a matching green apron tied where her two halves met, draping along the front of her. As she looked at everyone curiously, her bright green eyes skimming each of you, her small rare horns are visible poking out of her hair and skull, her deer ears folded slightly at the sides of her head, and light white freckles along her cheeks matching those similar to the ones on her back are easily visible against her dark skin. Looking at her, she couldn't be any older than 14, her eyes studying you all with a mix of curiosity and hesitancy before she looks down at the woman, choosing to ignore the boisterous dwarf for now.
"I'm Fauna Zym. And I suppose we are all headed that way? Will she be alright? We should get her to town yes? If you need she can ride on my back. I don't think she should walk in that condition..."
Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Willow Twilight|Swiftstride Shifter|Blood Hunter|Ebberon|Retired
Meephylia Polliwog|Grung|Dragon Sorcerer|Descent To Avernus|Retired
Ashryn Rairs|Changeling|Hexblade Warlock|Out Of The Abyss|Dead
The other aasimar woman had long white hair, pulled away from her face in an up-down hairstyle that gave those that gazed upon her a view of her blood red eyes. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, brow raised in question at the now conscious tiefling woman, wondering if she would go against her savior and speak or do anything for that matter. She is shaken away from her thought though when Belial tries introducing her, not having properly told them her name. "Oh, right, sorry. My name is Lucina Navire." She bows before them, her eyes now trained on the tiefling. "Nice to meet you... Ma'am..."
Aeyd of the Dragons || Wood Elf / Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk
Demetrios Zalaoras || Protector Aasimar / Paladin of Torm
Hawke || Kalashtar / Circle of the Moon Druid
Morticia || Half-Aasimar Rogue
Yvan || Goliath / Path of the Wild Soul Barbarian | Paladin of Helm
/ᐠ。ꞈ。ᐟ\
Stacey would duck and sneak between the growing group of onlookers to get her own look at the fallen.
Bandaid.
The redhead would stick a bandaid on the tiefling's forehead after one of the aasimars would touch her. She'd follow up with a gentle touch to the nose. "Boop!" And the rogue would duck and scurry out of the way to stand on the outside of the group.
The fair skinned freckled woman stands just over 5 feet tall. "Aye, the name's Stacey." She'd give a simple dimpled smile accompanied by a little wave.
just an unstable unicorn.
Alia relaxes somewhat as the tiefling is healed. "Oh, yes...hello, I'm Alia." She gives the gathered group a faint smile before returning her attention to the tiefling. "Excuse me, are you all right? What happened, why are you in this state?"
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Belial shoots a confused look towards Stacey. "Did you just boop her snoot?"
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
More
"Maybeh." She'd tilt her head to the side still smiling. "You did the hard work though Belial."
Stacey would take a few steps in to look closely at the aasimars in the group. She was probably invading some personal space, but didn't realize it, going on her tippy toes to look closer before backing away.
just an unstable unicorn.
Much to her surprise, Camilla was barely conscious when she felt someone lift up her head.
"If you're going to kill me.." she mumbled. "..make sure your blade cuts across the internal carotid arteries just next to the vertebral arteries and above the subclavian-" she noticed that everyone around her was looking at her with various emotions, and they weren't finishing her off, they..helped her?
"Wait a moment.." she said, looking around. She pushed her overly large glasses back on her nose and squinted to get a grip on the situation. "You're..not killing me? You healed me." She did her best to sit up. "Oh my, this is a bit embarrassing. I uh...I must have fallen while walking. Just thought..uh, sure, this looks like a nice place for a nap! Yes! I was just uh, resting my eyes."
Camilla had big beautiful blue eyes, flowing light blonde hair, and extremely pale skin, almost white. She was about 5'6", very slender, and looked currently extremely tired and fatigued from hunger. Her robe was dirty and a bit undone, and while not the picture perfect athletic type, it was easy to tell she spent her life in front of books or studying but had an attractive appeal to her, a natural beauty that radiated from her.
"Oh, who am I fooling. No one, that's who. You all are adventurers I take it?" she asked everyone, smiling weakly. She then blinked a few times, and slowly reached up and touched a band-aid on her face. "Wh..?"