The Harbinger of Ferocity

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

The people were a whimpering, disheveled, disorganized mess, kept under hush by the man they had rescued; the one the hunter assumed to be the mentor to the priestess that had cast her hand in on this venture, against a dragon no less. The man himself did not appear to be anything remarkable, not that Brannor was looking for it, but even the brief few glances he partook in whilst looking over his shoulder to keep watch on the entourage was enough to make him wonder. Wonder in particular about the woman, how she was so bold as to face the dragon. Was it really need? Plenty of men needed to kill that beast but a few hours ago, yet how many were content to flee in a panic or cast down their arms with little provocation? Granted it was an unbeatable foe, as it so casually proved in its departure, but not to die trying?

It was a distracting thought that lingered in the subconscious like a fog, one the drifted into the presence of mind whenever the following was told to hush by their shepherd. There were too many questions, too many reflections to think of as they retraced their steps, some of Brannor's boots falling where they did before, tracking almost perfectly in reverse. The gesture was near second nature in of itself, although the mere presence of the tall, open grass was not. It brought back memories, memories before this, when things were... somehow less clear. At least now he knew in part why the divine called to him, why it literally filled his blood.

Not everyone was like the half-blood, the halfling, the elder or the priestess. Rather, they were exceptions, which both reinforced Ashkar's turning emotions on the common folk. For all he could do for them now, no less in service to the light - one element of which hung above their heads, above the raven's flight, above the smoke, and far above the clouds as a silvery crescent - would that change them all that much? Would they still in time be the very same people they were days and months prior? Could this be the experience they needed, so startling as it was?

People were hard to change and Brannor knew this; that at times people needed a violent, forceful awakening.

By the time the two leading the front found themselves back to the concealed entrance of the tunnel, Brannor had again decided to stave off the philosophical debate he had with himself; in truth, at least until tested, he went with what he did know after all. He was an outsider, now and forever. His calling was still elsewhere, even on the ventures of this night.

And when he leapt down into the bed of the stream, balancing himself as he began traversing the stones with a practiced grace, the only remark he had for the company behind him was direct;

"It will be dark and do not wander. Follow the glow of the torches." To which after he said this, he gave the survivors a faint nod likely to be lost in the late night's hours.

The wording was perhaps too accurate, too aptly said. Perhaps the entire concept was but top of mind again, but when he realized it, the moment was already over and the sincere doubt of their own ponderings was assured. Many were reciting soft prayers and thanks, others were asking, begging to their patron for any number of worries one could imagine imposed on their hearts. Either way, Brannor placed a steady hand up upon the woman's shoulder and this time, led the way into the bowels of the stone fort, avoiding the few pitfalls that they had seen earlier and using them to distract from the damp, almost sickening stench.

When the door at last revealed itself before them, the man struck it twice with a knock, then with a balled fist that made the leather tighten and bind, a rumbling echo of a strike. The tunnel and its corridors gave a dull ringing, while whoever awaited them this time on the other side was certain to have heard it a ways off. Of all things though, the wait was the worst, but it seemed this quest had all but drawn to an end.

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Norschtalen

A fantasy setting collaboration?

If you are seeking someone schooled in feline mythos and lore, you needn't look too much further, @Oak7ree. The feline kind is my area of expertise, to include that aspect. All animals have magical attributes associated with them, even to this day, but I cannot name too many that have as much variety in the matter as cats both greater and lesser do. They are as much a friend as they are foe, going back to before man even so much as walked upright. One can only imagine what magical beasts could do given that. This also lends itself well to prospects of animism, shamanism and totemistic tendencies. What is more frightening than the barbarians outside your gates? An army of them, headed by a shaman who can divine the future, turn into a predator or conjure terrible storms to plague your people.

With regard to magic, I find from experience that mingling darker, lower fantasy elements with the potential to encounter high fantasy has greater and more bombastic impact. Not just from a reader or player's perspective, but that of an observer. If all common folk had even some semblance of magic, why are they common? Surely they would discover and evolve those talents further. But, if you were to keep that knowledge coveted, secret and shrouded in mystery, now you are toying with potentially shattering perceptions. It makes powerful figures reasonably powerful - a court wizard of a kingdom is, beyond a doubt, perhaps the one person who truly has any idea about a magic that could affecting a people and failing that, at least has a place to start.

A nobleman's private mage, who acts as the champion of his house? Much less experience, but still a person of effectively knightly station. Someone the regular rabble wisely clears out before when he's present. Sure, he might not need a sword and he might not be able to teleport across continents, but he can still set a man on fire, move things with seemingly just a thought, leap huge bounds or any other of regularly impossible feats. His weakness is however, he is just a man, a man many are likely to hate and a man probably bound by law.

A fantasy setting collaboration?

External substances depend entirely upon how one imbibes them or uses them. An alchemist experimenting with anything and everything he can in pursuit of some new arcane formulae is likely to do as much if not more harm than a spiritual advisor, shaman, sage or seer; someone who is tied to the understanding and well practiced in the gathering, refining and dispensing of altering goods. No less, it keeps the practice secret, limited and word-of-mouth, passed on from mentor to pupil within a tribe or people. When you go on a "spiritual journey" or "dreamwalk" through medicinal herbs and a bit of magical tact, you get a radically different experience than simply quaffing down a potion the local apothecary has thrown together based on some book. One is a positive, enlightening experience and the other is... varying, depending on any number of factors. However...

Magic ceases being magical when you begin to refine it down to a science. Even mighty wizards, who spend their entire lives pursuing the art, are not always so certain why some things do as they do. Forcing it into whirring cogs, grinding gears, and machines turns it into a science. It removes the mystery of it all, what makes it arcane or complex for a number of reasons, not the least of which is availability. When you turn magic into any other tool, any fool can then wield it. You keep magic limited to liveliness and as much art as it is science, you make people with it distinct. It needs to be a power that as one grows in scale of a spell, the more wild and awesome it becomes; world changing magic does just that, but often in unpredictable ways.

A mage might be proficient enough to cast lowly bolts of flame without danger, but a great wizard who has been preparing a spell for many, many long years? He might indeed cross a planar boundary and travel ahead or back in time, but the sheer power of the magic unleashed could let other things in too, or cause great harm to the surrounding environ. You can never be too sure. He can check and recheck his books, calculations and studies, but there is always that chance. Yet, he is a wizard so that is but only a chance, right?

On another note, I am very fond of the concept that people who attempt to "study" magic begin to edge closer to madness the deeper they dive, whereas those born into the talent adapt with it. A wizard contrasting a sorcerer; the absent minded, aged man with beard and innumerable studies who bumbles and babbles to the keen, almost seductive beauty and power that someone was just born with and commands on whim. A sort of envy arises from that and a desire to pursue it.

Returning back to the subject of cats which drew me here, felines of all forms have a great number of magical mythos and properties associated with them across a number of cultures. If there's any animal one might think to be a danger to magic and mages, even the common house cat is an option; they're said to see spirits, receive visions, steal away life itself or breath it into others, balance the power of plagues and illness, chance or change fortune, among other things. Not to mention they are a very classical familiar to the scholarly, cloistered and magically inclined. Your larger cats? Some are informally called "ghosts of the mountains", others are divine spirits, representing everything from unchecked, pure and impartial wrath like the tiger, up to keepers of secrets, tricks or mystery as with a lynx.

If there is something a mage might not want to dabble in, that would be a terrifying mythic or enchanted beast, that would be any cat.

Beginner's DnD 5e Game - Group 2

As much as I am interested in the two crossing paths, I would also rather they do so later on as heroes than earlier on. The sort of thing where we hear stories, rumors or tales of other groups, some of which are related to the ones we are playing, but the eventual encounter comes later and only just for some interaction, rather than major crossovers. This would, I believe, meet the objective but keep each distinct - nothing more than a chance crossing.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

@Hekazu, if @Norschtalen does not reply by tomorrow morning, I will see us into the keep.

Beginner's DnD 5e Game - Group 2

Sometime earlier...

The night against a wooden floor did not bode well for her, how already she missed the open sky and touch of earth. Sleep came only by necessity, but it was not welcome sleep. Rather, it was the sort that came out of exhaustion and the desire to simply disconnect from reality for a time. But how she paid for it when she did at last awake, head nested upon her arm and her towering figure splayed across the floor of their quarters. In the night she had slipped out from her bed to sleep there, not by waking dream, but by the knowing desire to be just that much closer to how things felt inexplicably right, the rest of the company be damned. Owing to this, each joint in her seemed to resist when she at last sat upright, dim golden eyes visibly displeased with the very way she felt.

At least now it was still dark, quiet, tranquil. Things she needed after whatever truthfully they had witnessed but a week or two prior. Some sort of twisted, monstrous omen had overtaken an entire village and a woman only known as a hag was to blame. It had decayed the very environment, perverting it in ways that only disgusted her; if there was ever a time to call down a firestorm it would have been then. Everything in her meditation was turbulent and displeased, filled with violent thoughts or uninvited recollection. She swore that it was that she was cooped up within this inn, this building, let alone this busied city... and that she had made the error of trying to sleep in the bed, if at all.

By the time the rest had awoken, she had managed to redress her disheveled look, but remained seated by herself with her back to a wall and hood draw up, clearly in a thoughtful trance. The entire point was not to distance herself from them, but rather the world as a whole for a time; to clear her mind of thoughts and regain her inherent power. Standoffish and strange as it was, it was not a matter open for debate and they could believe or think whatever they made of it.

When they saw themselves out the door however.

Currently...

From the moment Arthera crossed the threshold of the door, really even before that, her senses were instantly offended by the presence of the lame folk, a number of who seemed to be gathered around a dragonborn. Before she could even adjust her loose sleeves or conceal her face, she knew well that they all had the same feeling about him and his gathering. In fact, as they drew closer, the scaled man's words became all too accurate to be coincidence. Now there really was something, other than him being a bit touched in the head and the subject of the elven woman, Ceria's visible scrutiny.

"Daisy", as she so assumed for herself, had already slipped between the figures of the crowd and leaned in to his ear. Whatever words she was sharing his reaction reasonably changed. In the meanwhile during this, Arthera remained on the fringes of the crowd that accompanied the metallic dragonkin, looking the man over with the other company present. Up until the added presence of the tiefling, he seemed to believe what he was saying - something that did not bode well for the primalist's feelings about the man. To be perfectly forthcoming, he if anything was a symbolic problem given the fact he was attracting a crowd at all.

"Typical." Arthera scorned, narrowing her eyes as the words left her tongue.

She glanced from one side of the gathering to the other with underlying disdain, her height aiding her in this effort. Those that seemed entranced, perhaps even honestly believing the creature worried her some. It was too familiar in a way that was eerie enough to concern her thoughts. After all, only a few weeks prior they had witnessed an entire town fall under something's sway.

Effects

In the morning when she awakens, Arthera takes the time to clear her mind and restore her psionic reserve by meditating. She begins with 14 power points and assumes her psychic focus of Psionic Restoration. No less after that, she shrouds herself in a protective field of invisible force through her Mage Armor.

Later on, Arthera's rolled Insight toward the doomsayer is 14, suggesting to her that he believes what it is he is saying.

@JBRam2002@Oraculum@Turbowraith@Mistiel@Ermine@Ms Ravenwinter

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

@Norschtalen, since you are leading the group physically, I will follow your post. I imagine there's a few topics of interest for you to go over with Falconmoon and your followers, but do let me know if you would rather that I post returning us to the keep given the precession of the party.

So long as only our characters need memorize it, @Hekazu. As in, we're allowed to look back to our posts. Hah.

DnD 5e - Beginner's Game

The ambiance of nightfall was a welcome distraction from the earlier hours of the day, wherein so many of them had been preoccupied with hunting these outsiders down... only to fail, if any attribute could be attached to it. Very dead were these fiend worshippers, these interlopers, but more so pressing on the heart was that the Gate was no more. Not a stone or sight of it existed any longer; naught more than an empty clearing. So to claim any sort of victory was ill placed, if not spectacularly so.

The great cat, where it had concealed itself to sleep amidst a thick of brush, had more hours than it preferred to embellish these thoughts. It was not his particular fault, in fact, there was reasonably nothing he could have done, but what had actually happened? What really transpired?

Looking onward and upward to the stars, it huffed in quiet to itself without any answers. There were stars, countless of them as any other night, but beyond them there were great celestial heavens that stretched beyond time and place. They were eternal, unchanging in their ever-presence. But a way to see them, at least prior to death itself, was utterly ruined. And then those those things, disgusting vermin they were and shadows of the fey.

How dare they desecrate a place of sobering sadness? Had any other Circle been present, they would have mourned this rather than calling for blood. Content to feed their mortal emotions rather than enact justice as they were called to as defenders of great nature. Anyone and anything responsible deserved to endure its wrath until they could no longer bear it.

For the beast, as it looked over their calm camp among the ruins of a reclaimed hideaway, it needed them to lead it to the enemy. Answers that could only come in time rather than when most needed, namely now. More importantly, it needed to gain their trust. Some of which it seemed to hold, but that was tenuous at best, only born of circumstance rather than legitimate and sincere belief it was an ally rather than a potential enemy.

For the next few hours the large animal observed in the quiet, remaining alert and vigilant. After all, now would be the best time to travel... to hunt... to patrol.

@Ermine@JBRam2002@Landaus Five-One@Ms Ravenwinter@Big Dread

Help with Ogrun from Iron Kingdoms

@Hylozoist, the primary purpose was to see if this is yet another of the Dungeons and Dragons Topic Starter constructs or an actual posting member. Thus far, evidence suggests based on the pattern of questioning and lack of interaction, as well as the other topic created that this is indeed an imposter.

Iron Kingdoms is not mentioned much, let alone at all, so I opted for the default answer rather than researching it.

Help with Ogrun from Iron Kingdoms

While I have reason to doubt the authenticity of this submission, I suppose the best question is to ask, what assigned abilities and statistics does it have? A +1 bonus to Armor Class is not going to be worth a +1 Level Adjustment, ever. If you want to see what a worthy +1 Level Adjustment is, look up the Feral template from the source book Savage Species. All level adjustments should be compared to that.