Your adventures have taken you to a coastal community, where local fishing boats share the harbor with trade vessels from far and wide. Lately everyone has been discussing the deluge of falling stars that has lit up the evening sky for the past several nights. Some say these celestial events are omens of impending disaster. Others believe they are a precursor to the gods descending from the heavens to walk the land. No one knows for sure...
Anoushka is a pretty human woman, tall, her brown hair cut short above the shoulders. Her skin is a golden brown, her clothes loose-fitting, a blackened rapier at her side. Her arms are tattooed, mostly floral, the occasional bones. Her gaze is sharp, and she moves with grace. Her voice is strangely accented, dusky. When she makes eye contact with you, it is challenging. You get the feeling she does not back down willingly.
She has a small pack with her, from which dangles a small buckler shield. Under her shirt, you can see the glint of chain. Aside from the rapier, she carries no other weapon, not even a utility knife.
A tall pale elf walks into the village with a look of curiosity on his face. Omens of gods and dangerous from faraway places... or planes are what brought him to this region. He walks confidently in this new place, even though he doesn't truly fit in; he was used to being an outsider most places, as that is the nature of being one who follows the Dweller on the Horizon.
Wreji's platinum blonde hair was well kept and sewn delicately in a full braid, highlighted by metallic adornments as it rests over his left shoulder. The elf's eyes, lack a pupil, and resemble the glimmer of distance stars that shine at night. His armor gleamed specks of silver, green, and gold as his chest plate is emblazoned with the sigil of a disk bearing a curved line with an upturned crescent above. His curved, plated tower shield mirrors the same symbol dedicated to his god and the mission he has been set upon. His longsword is tucked neatly at his waist within a scabbard made from blackened leather. Under his armor, yellow and black garments peak through as a cloak delicately rests on his back.
(We can say Tavern for ease, unless DM says otherwise!) Wreji looks at the the human and nods, taking the comment as a compliment, as he waves the bartender over to order a drink "And that's a very nice looking blade you have there..."
A 7-foot-tall hulking hippo-headed brute, his massive form dominates any room or space he enters, as it does tonight when his bulk darkens the doorway before spotting Anoushka and making his way towards her, dropping himself lightly and noiseless into one of the chairs at her table.
He shakes his head at her glance 'Nothing and nothing and nothing. No one here has even heard of fizzewithel.' Motioning with one of his massive hands he summons a server and takes a full pitcher from them, easily palming it in one hand before taking a deep drought. Froth from the ale gathers at the corner of his mouth and along the edges of his whiskers as he drinks deeply before sitting the now half full pitcher back down on the table.
If an observer stopped to look - and most don't see past the Hippo head or the sheer mass - they would notice two things much more interesting and of greater import than his sheer strangeness.
First, all of Pim's gear was well-made, well-worn, and well-maintained. His leather armor was comfortably broken in, but reinforced in key areas and clearly oiled and waxed regularly. His longbow was of a strange design but was impeccably made, with no signs of cracking in the laminate and with spare bow strings coiled and ready at hand. His quiver sat at his hip and there was a subtle color-coding to the fletching on each of the arrows carefully resting in their place. A coil of rope with a cleverly designed collapsable grapple sat at his hip, easy at hand and ready to deploy in an instant.
Second, he wore a strange device across his chest. Strapped around him and resting just below his left breast was a large device with a handle of dark bone or stone of some sort jutting out of the leather holster. Small metal cylinders marched up and around on loops of the leather that crisscrossed his upperbody.
But again, most never made it that far, their eyes fixed on the broken tusk protruding from his lower jaw, his massive flat molars that ran in an unbroken row and his small black eyes set deep into a furrowed brow.
Looking up he grunts in the direction of the shiny elf 'Who's this one?'
“Oh don’t worry. I don’t intend on testing the patience of you or your blade… at least not yet.” He chuckles in response to Anoushka’s quip before turning to Pimfire, “the names Wreji. And you are? Friends of mine are short in these parts, care if I join you?”
He sits before either can answer, setting his shield down next to the seat as he collects his drink from the barkeep.
Anoushka reaches for the drink she'd ordered for Pimfire, pulling it to join hers as Wreji sits. "Yes, you can join us, shiny elf. I am Anoushka," she says, her accent strong. "This is my friend, Pimfire." She puts a hand to the pommel of her sword. "This is Rusalka. She is not friend." There is a brief flicker in the air around Anoushka, but it lasts only a moment.
"You will make a good friend,"she smiles. "With armor like that, everyone will be wanting to hit you, and I will not be harmed."
“...Friends of mine are short in these parts, care if I join you?”
He sits before either can answer, setting his shield down next to the seat as he collects his drink from the barkeep.
"Short friends? I'm short, could be friend. Many interesting things you all have. Excitement likely to follow you. Or maybe call you instead..." This stream of words comes from the beak of a Small kenku that appeared next to your table. His eyes are bright blue and his posture suggests excitement. Fine clothes in a rainbow of dark blues, purples, and black almost obscure the studded leather armor he wears, and a quick glance shows he wears a plain shortsword and what looks like a painted club at his belt. His pack has a Bodhrán and he has a hand on an exquisitely decorated bandore on a should strap.
He continues to look at all of you inquisitively for a moment before letting out a sound that sounds exactly like cymbols crashing together. "Manners! Must have left them in other pack... Name is Glim; bard I am."
Pim chokes and sputters on his ale as he stifles a laugh at Anoushka's joke about the shiny elf's armor. That's one of the reasons he like her - she made hiim laugh in a world full of disappointment.
Sparing a brief glance at the chattering bird creature, Pim reached over and reclaimed his drink from Anoushka, draining the tiny mug in a single gulp before waving for another round from the bar staff 'Sit Glim, have a drink, join us - this it turning into an interesting gathering.'
"Tsk'va! That was mine! I mean... now, after... you got your own. Pfah!" Anoushka slaps the table, then wheels on the kenku. "Yes, please, pull up a perch. Pim will buy drinks now."She slaps the giff on his very broad shoulder.
"So, what brings you all here? Traveling and looking for work or are any of you three from the region?"
The elf says curiously as he notices just how capable the group he found looks to be. "I've heard some rumors and doomsday talk myself, but no specifics... so if one of you is local... that info would be helpful"
The door flies open and Nip enters. He is an Aarakocra that stands about five feet tall and is slim. His brightly colored feathers are jewel toned and the only other thing he wears in some light leathers across his chest and a set of bracers. There is a well worn longbow stowed across his back. If someone were to look closely, they notice that Nip is covered in a constantly moving swarm of some sort. They look like they could be gnats or mites and it is clear that Nip is uncomfortable with them, constantly fidgeting and trying to get them with his eagle like beak.
He heads straight to the bar and asks for juice. He gets a strange look from the barkeep who eventually squeezes a lemon into a mug and hands it to the birdman.
He wanders to the table and sees an empty seat. Without asking he sits down and continues to primp his feathers. It's not so much that he doesn't notice everyone else at the table, he just doesn't take interest in them.
A server stops by the table with a fresh round of drinks and a quizzical look at the...unique...cast of characters squeezed around the table. His gaze lingers on the great giff, whose bulk is what is forcing everyone else to sit shoulder to shoulder, and then the newcomer who seems flea-bitten. As he walks away he unconsciously scratches under his arm and then his head.
As you wait for your midday meal, you overhear a blacksmith tell a group of other craftsmen about being awakened last night by a loud crash. According to the smith, a crystalline vine burst out of the ground and punched a hole through the roof of his neighbor’s bakery. “Must be divine punishment for the bad pies and steep prices,” says the blacksmith with a nervous chuckle. Suddenly, the earth shakes violently beneath your feet. You hear the dull roar of a distant eruption. The smith and several others hurry outside. Joining them, you see a sinuous, crystalline vine erupting from the ground a few blocks away—tall enough to be seen above the rooftops. Screams of panic rise from the same direction.
A sailor standing in your midst says, “I think it’s time I returned to my ship. You’re welcome to join me. You would be wise to flee as well.” With that, she makes her way toward the docks.
The ground churns again, and more eruptions burst through the streets all around you. From these sites sprout smaller crystalline vines that uproot themselves and begin lurching through the streets, driving panicked citizens before them, while the enormous vine in the distance stretches ever taller. Six of these slow-moving, vine-like creatures start attacking anyone within reach - mostly commoners who haven't cleared away from them yet. They are glowing, and appear to be some sort of crystalline vines formed in a vaguely humanoid shape...
“Oh, Rusalka is eager, Pim! We fight, da? We have not fought in a long while…” Still, Anoushka shies back towards where the captain left for her ship. She has not drawn her sword, but her off hand is crackling with purple starlight energy.
Ready an Eldritch Blast (two beams, actually, 5th level is awesome) for if something attacks one of the new group of friends.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Pim laughs with sheer delight as the creatures burst from the ground, pulling his longbow out and stringing it in a series of practiced fluid movements.
"Yes my friend, we fight!' he roars as he grabs two arrows in one meaty fist and puts them to the string and fires them off at the furthest Vine-monster threatening a commoner - prioritizing any threats to children.
The massive creature moves with a speed that's almost disorienting the first time someone witnesses it, as if they are seeing a trick of the eyes or maybe a minor illusion.
Initiative 18
Attack 1: 12 Damage: 6 Attack 2: 13 Damage: 8
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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Your adventures have taken you to a coastal community, where local fishing boats share the harbor with trade vessels from far and wide. Lately everyone has been discussing the deluge of falling stars that has lit up the evening sky for the past several nights. Some say these celestial events are omens of impending disaster. Others believe they are a precursor to the gods descending from the heavens to walk the land. No one knows for sure...
Click here for an Astral Adventuring Primer.
Love God. Love Others. Any Questions?
Anoushka is a pretty human woman, tall, her brown hair cut short above the shoulders. Her skin is a golden brown, her clothes loose-fitting, a blackened rapier at her side. Her arms are tattooed, mostly floral, the occasional bones. Her gaze is sharp, and she moves with grace. Her voice is strangely accented, dusky. When she makes eye contact with you, it is challenging. You get the feeling she does not back down willingly.
She has a small pack with her, from which dangles a small buckler shield. Under her shirt, you can see the glint of chain. Aside from the rapier, she carries no other weapon, not even a utility knife.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
A tall pale elf walks into the village with a look of curiosity on his face. Omens of gods and dangerous from faraway places... or planes are what brought him to this region. He walks confidently in this new place, even though he doesn't truly fit in; he was used to being an outsider most places, as that is the nature of being one who follows the Dweller on the Horizon.
Wreji's platinum blonde hair was well kept and sewn delicately in a full braid, highlighted by metallic adornments as it rests over his left shoulder. The elf's eyes, lack a pupil, and resemble the glimmer of distance stars that shine at night. His armor gleamed specks of silver, green, and gold as his chest plate is emblazoned with the sigil of a disk bearing a curved line with an upturned crescent above. His curved, plated tower shield mirrors the same symbol dedicated to his god and the mission he has been set upon. His longsword is tucked neatly at his waist within a scabbard made from blackened leather. Under his armor, yellow and black garments peak through as a cloak delicately rests on his back.
"Shiny," Anoushka comments over her ale as the astral elf walks by/sits down/enters the tavern/wherever we are.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
(We can say Tavern for ease, unless DM says otherwise!) Wreji looks at the the human and nods, taking the comment as a compliment, as he waves the bartender over to order a drink "And that's a very nice looking blade you have there..."
Her eyes narrow, but her mouth smiles playfully. “Careful, she and I both bite.”
There is another drink set next to her at the table, but the bench in front of it is currently empty. There are several empty chairs, too.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Pimfire is unmistakably not from around here.
A 7-foot-tall hulking hippo-headed brute, his massive form dominates any room or space he enters, as it does tonight when his bulk darkens the doorway before spotting Anoushka and making his way towards her, dropping himself lightly and noiseless into one of the chairs at her table.
He shakes his head at her glance 'Nothing and nothing and nothing. No one here has even heard of fizzewithel.' Motioning with one of his massive hands he summons a server and takes a full pitcher from them, easily palming it in one hand before taking a deep drought. Froth from the ale gathers at the corner of his mouth and along the edges of his whiskers as he drinks deeply before sitting the now half full pitcher back down on the table.
If an observer stopped to look - and most don't see past the Hippo head or the sheer mass - they would notice two things much more interesting and of greater import than his sheer strangeness.
First, all of Pim's gear was well-made, well-worn, and well-maintained. His leather armor was comfortably broken in, but reinforced in key areas and clearly oiled and waxed regularly. His longbow was of a strange design but was impeccably made, with no signs of cracking in the laminate and with spare bow strings coiled and ready at hand. His quiver sat at his hip and there was a subtle color-coding to the fletching on each of the arrows carefully resting in their place. A coil of rope with a cleverly designed collapsable grapple sat at his hip, easy at hand and ready to deploy in an instant.
Second, he wore a strange device across his chest. Strapped around him and resting just below his left breast was a large device with a handle of dark bone or stone of some sort jutting out of the leather holster. Small metal cylinders marched up and around on loops of the leather that crisscrossed his upperbody.
But again, most never made it that far, their eyes fixed on the broken tusk protruding from his lower jaw, his massive flat molars that ran in an unbroken row and his small black eyes set deep into a furrowed brow.
Looking up he grunts in the direction of the shiny elf 'Who's this one?'
“Oh don’t worry. I don’t intend on testing the patience of you or your blade… at least not yet.” He chuckles in response to Anoushka’s quip before turning to Pimfire, “the names Wreji. And you are? Friends of mine are short in these parts, care if I join you?”
He sits before either can answer, setting his shield down next to the seat as he collects his drink from the barkeep.
Anoushka reaches for the drink she'd ordered for Pimfire, pulling it to join hers as Wreji sits. "Yes, you can join us, shiny elf. I am Anoushka," she says, her accent strong. "This is my friend, Pimfire." She puts a hand to the pommel of her sword. "This is Rusalka. She is not friend." There is a brief flicker in the air around Anoushka, but it lasts only a moment.
"You will make a good friend," she smiles. "With armor like that, everyone will be wanting to hit you, and I will not be harmed."
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
"Short friends? I'm short, could be friend. Many interesting things you all have. Excitement likely to follow you. Or maybe call you instead..." This stream of words comes from the beak of a Small kenku that appeared next to your table. His eyes are bright blue and his posture suggests excitement. Fine clothes in a rainbow of dark blues, purples, and black almost obscure the studded leather armor he wears, and a quick glance shows he wears a plain shortsword and what looks like a painted club at his belt. His pack has a Bodhrán and he has a hand on an exquisitely decorated bandore on a should strap.
He continues to look at all of you inquisitively for a moment before letting out a sound that sounds exactly like cymbols crashing together. "Manners! Must have left them in other pack... Name is Glim; bard I am."
Pim chokes and sputters on his ale as he stifles a laugh at Anoushka's joke about the shiny elf's armor. That's one of the reasons he like her - she made hiim laugh in a world full of disappointment.
Sparing a brief glance at the chattering bird creature, Pim reached over and reclaimed his drink from Anoushka, draining the tiny mug in a single gulp before waving for another round from the bar staff 'Sit Glim, have a drink, join us - this it turning into an interesting gathering.'
"Tsk'va! That was mine! I mean... now, after... you got your own. Pfah!" Anoushka slaps the table, then wheels on the kenku. "Yes, please, pull up a perch. Pim will buy drinks now." She slaps the giff on his very broad shoulder.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
With a sound like applause, Glim sits on the bench with the others and waits eagerly for the server.
"So, what brings you all here? Traveling and looking for work or are any of you three from the region?"
The elf says curiously as he notices just how capable the group he found looks to be. "I've heard some rumors and doomsday talk myself, but no specifics... so if one of you is local... that info would be helpful"
The door flies open and Nip enters. He is an Aarakocra that stands about five feet tall and is slim. His brightly colored feathers are jewel toned and the only other thing he wears in some light leathers across his chest and a set of bracers. There is a well worn longbow stowed across his back. If someone were to look closely, they notice that Nip is covered in a constantly moving swarm of some sort. They look like they could be gnats or mites and it is clear that Nip is uncomfortable with them, constantly fidgeting and trying to get them with his eagle like beak.
He heads straight to the bar and asks for juice. He gets a strange look from the barkeep who eventually squeezes a lemon into a mug and hands it to the birdman.
He wanders to the table and sees an empty seat. Without asking he sits down and continues to primp his feathers. It's not so much that he doesn't notice everyone else at the table, he just doesn't take interest in them.
“Not local,” Anoushka says, but does not elaborate. “Seems much about nothing, no?”
When the second bird creature sits down, she just raises an eyebrow at him, then continues her drink.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
A server stops by the table with a fresh round of drinks and a quizzical look at the...unique...cast of characters squeezed around the table. His gaze lingers on the great giff, whose bulk is what is forcing everyone else to sit shoulder to shoulder, and then the newcomer who seems flea-bitten. As he walks away he unconsciously scratches under his arm and then his head.
As you wait for your midday meal, you overhear a blacksmith tell a group of other craftsmen about being awakened last night by a loud crash. According to the smith, a crystalline vine burst out of the ground and punched a hole through the roof of his neighbor’s bakery. “Must be divine punishment for the bad pies and steep prices,” says the blacksmith with a nervous chuckle. Suddenly, the earth shakes violently beneath your feet. You hear the dull roar of a distant eruption. The smith and several others hurry outside. Joining them, you see a sinuous, crystalline vine erupting from the ground a few blocks away—tall enough to be seen above the rooftops. Screams of panic rise from the same direction.
A sailor standing in your midst says, “I think it’s time I returned to my ship. You’re welcome to join me. You would be wise to flee as well.” With that, she makes her way toward the docks.
The ground churns again, and more eruptions burst through the streets all around you. From these sites sprout smaller crystalline vines that uproot themselves and begin lurching through the streets, driving panicked citizens before them, while the enormous vine in the distance stretches ever taller. Six of these slow-moving, vine-like creatures start attacking anyone within reach - mostly commoners who haven't cleared away from them yet. They are glowing, and appear to be some sort of crystalline vines formed in a vaguely humanoid shape...
Love God. Love Others. Any Questions?
“Oh, Rusalka is eager, Pim! We fight, da? We have not fought in a long while…” Still, Anoushka shies back towards where the captain left for her ship. She has not drawn her sword, but her off hand is crackling with purple starlight energy.
Ready an Eldritch Blast (two beams, actually, 5th level is awesome) for if something attacks one of the new group of friends.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Glim looks at the strange vine creatures, racking his memory for anything similar.
Arcana: 24
Nature: 20
He pulls his bandore around, ready to strike up a tune. **more coming based on skill info**
Initiative: 9
Pim laughs with sheer delight as the creatures burst from the ground, pulling his longbow out and stringing it in a series of practiced fluid movements.
"Yes my friend, we fight!' he roars as he grabs two arrows in one meaty fist and puts them to the string and fires them off at the furthest Vine-monster threatening a commoner - prioritizing any threats to children.
The massive creature moves with a speed that's almost disorienting the first time someone witnesses it, as if they are seeing a trick of the eyes or maybe a minor illusion.
Initiative 18
Attack 1: 12 Damage: 6
Attack 2: 13 Damage: 8