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Zeroth
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More than five hundred years ago, clans of dwarves and gnomes made an agreement known as the Phandelver's Pact, by which they would share a rich mine in a wondrous cavern known as Wave Echo Cave. In addition to its mineral wealth, the mine was rumored to have contained great magical power. Human spellcasters allied themselves with the dwarves and gnomes to channel and bind that energy into a great forge, where magic items could be crafted. Times were good, and the nearby human town of Phandalin prospered as well. But then disaster struck when orcs swept through the North and laid waste to all in their path.

A powerful force of orcs reinforced by evil mercenary spellcasters attacked Wave Echo Cave to seize it's riches and magic treasures. Human wizards fought alongside their dwarf and gnome allies to defend the forge, and the ensuing spell battle destroyed much of the cavern. Few survived the cave-ins and tremors, and the location of Wave Echo Cave was lost.

For centuries, rumors of buried riches have attracted treasure seekers and opportunists to the area around Phandalin, but no one has ever succeeded in locating the lost mine. In recent years, people have resettled the area. Phandalin is now a rough-and-tumble frontier town.
Hidden 1 yr ago 4 mos ago Post by Dark Cloud
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Southward Ye Wagon Goes...

Ye Adventurers Five...



You've spent the last few days following the High Road south from Neverwinter, and recently veered east along the beaten path of the Triboar Trail. Encountering some minor setbacks along the way, only causing slight delay. However you know the open road is a dangerous along this part of the Sword Coast, many a rumor tells of the bandits and outlaws that haunt the trails to the east.

It is about midday as the wagon pulled by a pair of oxen, rolls along the bumpy dirt road through the hills and past vast plains, and in the distance one can see the Sword Mountains piercing the sky. Without a doubt you know this is far from the reach of society, your in a frontier without law...



Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Kenshi
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The human warrior hefted his big maul adjusting the weight as he balanced it upon his broaden shoulder.
" I can't wait til we get paid, all this walking makes a man thirsty for good home pleasures."
He glanced back at the others, thinking what a bunch of lookers we must be , people think we are some sort of traveling carnival.
The Tortle was an interesting creature, the Tiefling, I've seen their kind before, but never in a good way, and a Warlock as well, two spell casters, I hate magic, but at least there was the Hal elf, someone he could speak his native tongue to and feel at home again.
These thoughts cleared from Angus mind as bird flew over and squakwed.
"The name's, Ironheart, and when things need smashing, I smash."
He continued walking along side of the wagon, turning his gaze upon the half elf , "Well met friend "he said in the native elven tongue.

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Tibor walked in the back of the caravan, looking out across the plains and mountains as they passed by. The world around him was new, each plant and animal a wonder to him. Sprawling grasslands, huge mountain peaks in the distance, and a cool breeze that kept the sun from roasting his head. Even the evergreens, something common place to most, had the tortle stopping to take a moment and admire them.

Where others were guarded, Tibor himself felt calm and at peace. With such sprawling grasslands around them, how could any beast hope to sneak up on them? Though their party was not large, they had beasts to pull their goods, a rare thing in his homeland. Each cloud overhead was a reminder that he was not under the vast canopies of the jungles that covered his home, that he was not surrounded by the monsters and undead which had been a constant in his life until that point.

He was so at peace, he felt comfortable bringing out his flute. As the group walked, he would play a melody from his homeland.
(Roll for flute-playing: 13)
It was not a rousing song, nor was it of particular note. Foreign, perhaps, but that was all there was to it. The sound of the air blowing through the thin tube, conjuring a melody that reminded him of the flickering of leaves from palm trees on the beach, was as much of his home as he wanted just then.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Cu Chulainn
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Nethruel


Despite being assigned to guard this caravan, Nethruel seemed to be occupied with a book, instead. This wasn't completely true, however, as his sensitive ears twitched at the slightest of sounds. The Eladrin trailed about ten feet away from the cart, taking up the backline. Nethruel wasn't too worried about an ambush from behind. After all, he was aware of the hidden paths to and from the Feywild. Still, his control over this magic was still juvenile, so being this far back was only a necessary precaution to better position himself.

The book Nethruel was reading was a tome of lore regarding the Gloaming Court, his homeland. Interestingly, the book was obtained from a library on the Material Plane. It was imperative that Nethruel knew of his people's... reputation among the mortals during his time here. He was somewhat aware of the unpopular opinion many of the younger folk have about the Unseelie Fey, although it is for a very good reason. It was best to know more of these things from their perspective, as he was to serve as an emissary to the Prince of Frost

On the topic of his patron, Nethruel made sure to mask his allegiances whenever possible. Acting like he didn't speak Common was a start, but he also ensured that those of this caravan would know him as a Wizard, advertising his skills as such. Of course, a Wizard not "knowing" Common was an odd sight for sure, but at the very least, it seemed that a few of his companions also spoke Elvish.

Suffice to say, it was quite a surprise to Nethruel that the savage-looking Human spoke his kind's tongue. It was a shame too, he looked like one of the people in this caravan the Eladrin wanted to avoid speaking to if possible. While he looked quite different from the Elves attuned to the Material Plane, Nethruel still looked like an Elf, and it would be implausible for him to not understand Elvish. Such a thing was troubling, but so long as they keep their distance, it wasn't too much of a concern.

Hearing the Tortle's flute-playing filled Nethruel with a sense of nostalgia, being reminded of howling winds fluttering through the dead, leafless trees of his homeland. If anything, the Warlock was almost tempted to join the tortoise man in concert. It was a shame he was not Spring, or Autumn. Instead, Nethruel continued to focus on his book, keeping an ear out for any signs of danger.
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Guardian Angel Haruki
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Zinlynn


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"You guys need help accompanying a caravan? For ten gold? Count me in!"

Zinlynn's exuberant words and appearance to the man who was hiring must have been quite a shock for him. Not only was she going to get a lot of money, but she was also going to get a change of scenery! She was going to see more of the world outside of Neverwinter. Suffice to say, she got the job, and she met the other hired bodyguards. They were all quite an eclectic group!

When she first met them she introduced herself excitedly,

"So we're gonna be working together! Oh, right! Hi! My name is Zinlynn! You can call me 'Zin' or 'Lynn' if you want to shorten it. If you need me to sneak ahead and scout, or help you get in through locked doors, I'm your Jack of all Trades!"

She did wonder if they were going to split the ten gold among themselves, which would be two gold for each of them, or if they were going to get ten gold each. She hoped that it was going to be the latter. Still, she was practically excited to see Phandelin.

During the journey so far, she would have peppered each member with so many questions. Her curiosity ranged from each ally's home, to what they do now, to their favorite hobbies, colors, food, etc., and much more depending on who she was talking to.

When Ironheart greeted her in Elvish, she brightened even more (if that was possible), and she greeted him back in elvish, "Ah! Well met, Ironheart! Say, were you given the name Ironheart? Or did you come up with it yourself? I came up with the name Zinlynn for myself!"

Whenever she spoke to Nethruel, she would try both Common and Elvish, and she would tone down her cheerfulness if it would help him come out of his shell. She remembered the more shy children in Rose's orphanage and her advice when it came to talking to those who were shy. At least, she thought he was shy. If he wasn't in the mood to talk to her, she'd leave him be and go talk to someone else. But if he wanted to talk to her, then she would happily engage in conversation with him.

When Tibor played his flute, she fell silent for once and listened. When he was done playing, she praised him, "That was beautiful! Where did you learn how to play the flute? Was that tune from your home? Does it have a name?"

Finally, there was Azra. She immediately picked up on the fact that he was the notoriously flirtatious sort. She was able to tell from his posture, the swagger in his steps, the smile, and his speech. That wouldn't discourage her from engaging in conversation, but she would quip at his flirtations.

Right now, it may seem like she is just as relaxed as normal. But, in reality, her senses were on high alert. She kept an eye and ear on her surroundings. If life scraping by on the streets taught her anything, it was to be aware of her surroundings. After all, one would never know when trouble would strike. And they are on a bodyguard job after all.

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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Kassarock
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Azra Flametongue



As the caravan wound its way through the plains and hills of the Sword Coast, along the dusty and bumpy Triboar Trail, anyone watching it from a afar would see a small object bobbing up and down, located above the central wagon. It had a continuous almost circular motion to it, rising a few feet above the bed of the cart, dropping back down out of sight, before reappearing again moments later. If they had exceptional vision, they might have been able to tell what the object was.

It was an apple.

Throw... Catch... Throw... Catch...

It was an apple being thrown by a Tiefling, red skinned, with two great curled horns sprouting from his forehead.

Throw... Catch... Throw... Catch...

Azra Firetongue was bored out of his mind.

It had been a few days since he had left Neverwinter. Or more actually, he had scurried out of Neverwinter with his tail between his legs, under a hooded cloak so no one would recognise him as he left. At first it had been invigorating, the fresh country air, the new sights and smells, a new set of travelling companions. But as the novelty began to wear off, and Azra had found himself without a crowd to entertain or a tavern to get rat-arsed drunk in, the boredom began to creep in.

And so here he was, laid flat out of his back atop the loaded wagon, staring up into the cloud strewn sky, juggling an apple. He was juggling an apple. He was juggling a fucking apple. Dear gods, had it really come to this?

At the sound of voices, he tossed the apple even higher into the sky than before, sat up from his reclined position, and caught it with his mouth. He took a large bite from it, his pointed incisors and disturbingly enlarged canines making short work of it. His head peaked over the edge of wagon and his goat-like eyes surveyed his companions.

It was the big lunk of a man, Iron-something, talking to the pretty blonde half-elf ...Zynnlin ...Zillnyn? that Azra had already tried his luck with the first night they had set off along the High Road. They spoke in the fluttering tongue that Azra knew to be Elvish, but could not understand in the slightest. He hoped big man didn't think he had a chance there, if Azra hadn't yet succeeded in plucking that fresh, delicate flower, what hope did these others have?

From behind the cart came the sound of music. Azra rolled onto his front and crawled over to see its source. It was coming from by far the strangest member of their party. The great armoured reptile thing that was called... Tim? Who at that moment was playing a flute. It wasn't particularly good, but it was something other than staring at the sky, juggling an apple, and so for Azra, it was the best thing he had heard all week.

Azra listened with a wide smiled upon his face. When the song had finished, he exclaimed:

"Bravo! Bravo! My shelled friend, you know have you ever considered quitting your day job? I mean, being a caravan guard, or whatever it is that you do when you're not guarding caravans, is all well and good. But I know a born performer when I see one. The stage calls to you! I'm sure you would make plenty coin, you just need to add some pizazz to it! Costumes, a dance number, pyrotechnics!" As he spoke, a shower of sparks appeared with a wave of Azra's hand. "You agree of course don't you?"

The last comment was not directed at the Tortle, but rather at the other member of the party behind the cart, the quiet elven mage, who appeared to be reading a book as he walked. That didn't seem healthy, Azra himself didn't see the point he reading, you didn't need books to get by, you didn't even need them to learn magic. Then Azra remembered, this fellow didn't know any Common, that must be the problem! Why he had ignored all of Azra's witticisms and fascinating comments over the past few days. Well, he would have to help the stranger out.

"AG-REE! YES!? THE MU-SIC?! IT WAS VE-RY GOOD!? NAT-UR-AL PER-FOR-MER! BUT NEEDS MORE PI-ZAZZ!" Asra shouted at the elf loudly and slowly, breaking any longer words down into individual syllables, as if that would somehow make him understand common.



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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Necroes
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"Kelemvor's Blessing..." Tibor whispered under his breath, something between an exclamation of exasperation, and invoking the name of his god in place of cursing. In truth, though, it was also the verbal component to one of the minor spells his deity granted him. After putting away his flute, he would turn to the tiefling, with something these ape-creatures would see as a smile on his angular mouth.

"Pizzaz, you say? It sound to Tibor like someone a bit bored wit the travelin'. Eager for some entertainmen', eh friend? Alright, den Tibor, he tell you a story. Tibor tell everyone a story!" It was not often Tibor had spoken on this trip so far. His voice was deep, with a strange, reverberating quality that made it seem like it almost echoed inside his shell before it came out. Along with an accent unique to his species, he would no doubt sound foreign to all but the most well traveled.

"Dis is de tale o' how Tibor got his necklace. Dis here!" He would hold up the large tooth on the cord around his neck. Almost the size of a dagger, it was impossible to imagine the sheer size of any beast that would fit such a thing in its mouth. Then, as he held it aloft, he let the magic he had invoked fill his voice for the last words. Booming out, it would echo across the plains, his words now three times as loud as they were before. Even his faintest whisper would no doubt be heard by the entire group, so enhanced was his voice.

"Tibor, you see, he like to take him long walks tru de jungel. One day, while takin' me a long walk, I hear sometin' strange, come from ova a hill. Some man shout, 'Kelemvor's Blessing!'"He did his best to imitate the voice of a human male, mostly just bringing his own up a few octaves. It was not great, but in the process, he once more invoked the minor spell. Now he'd be allowed more use of its power. This was a story he had practiced, so he knew exactly where to insert that term, to provide the effects he was after.

"Now, back den, young Tibor had never heard o' Kelemvor. So, Tibor go wanderin' over, curious to see who it was, givin' blessings. Crestin' de hill, more voices come, whispers..." Even as he says the word, whispers fill the air. Ominous in their tone, they sound afraid, uncertain. They speak of a mission from their god, how they were fools to take it on, and that they were never prepared for something so massive. Each was worried, would they make it out? Could they handle such a foe? How many of them would die, if even any lived at all? Then, they cut off instantly, as Tibor continues.

"When de group come into view, Tibor sees what got dem so upset. Standin', dey were, round a massive foot print. One o' dere number had fallen in et. Dey were all scared, see, 'cause dey were huntin' deh beast. Not young Tibor, dough! No, what scared Tibor... was how fresh de track was. Before he could warn dem, dough, the beast, it announce itself. Massive et was, with a roar like thundah!"

On queue, a peel of thunder filled the air around them. The sky was clear, barely a cloud in sight, and yet the thunder boomed none the less. It came from seemingly nowhere, sounding both close and far, with no lightning to signal its origin. Either the very roar Tibor spoke of, or the magic of Kelemvor. The tortle never planned to tell.

"'Kelemvor's Blessing!'" He spoke here, with a somewhat feminine voice, denoting a new character while once more invoking his magic. Then, he continued. "One o' dem shouted. Finally, dey knew. Tibor did not even have to tell dem. Deh beast, it was gettin' close now. So close, we could even feel it. When a beast like dat walks, you know. You always know. "

As they walked, he empowered his steps with magic. Around him, the ground would begin to shake, his steps slowed to keep time with the massive stride of the great beast. Smalls stones along the trail would roll and bounce, the cart itself shaking with the harmless tremors his steps issued. Then, abruptly, another peal of thunder would fill the sky as Tibor lifted his staff like it was a spear, taking a combat stance with his shield to defend against a foe that did not exist.

"De beast, it came! Roarin' tru deh trees! Limbs broke as et smashed ets way tru. Dey humans, dey all fall to dere knees, prayin' to dere god! Tibor, he think dey all gonna die, even him. Dis was no small beast, but a great, monsterous lizard dey call T-Rex! Taller den de trees, wit legs thicker den tree men, and eh mouth so big et could swallow a man in one bite! And filled it was, wit teeth!"

To emphasize his point, he dropped his staff, once more holding up the dagger-sized tooth. As hard as such a colossus might be to imagine, the fang he held stood as proof of its sheer size. For all that his magic did to emphasize his words, to carry with it the feeling of his story, the tooth was physical evidence that he was telling the truth. There really were giant lizards in this world, big enough to eat humans whole.

The ground started to tremble once more, another crack of thunder filling the air, as Tibor continued his story. He would snatch up his walking staff, holding it like a spear as he danced around, feigning a combat from his past. "De beast came for us, but lookin' close, Tibor knew it was not so bad as it could be. No, et was worse! You see, where Tibor is from, dere is a plague on de land. Et make creatures dat were dead stand from dere graves, walkin' round deh island once more. De beast, it had been killed before. Half its side was missin' where et had lost to some uttah big beastie. See, a beast like dat, no mattah how big, you can keel by stickin' spears in ets soft parts. A beast dat big, dough, movin' but not alive... Would be impossible to kill. Or, so Tibor thought."

Once more, whispers would fill the area. Ominous, yes, but no longer fearful. They were filled with not the tremors of failing courage, but the fervor of righteous fury. These were prayers to Kelemvor, whispered by half a dozen zealots, calling on their god to smite with magic the beast they had come to kill in his name.

The tremors along the ground would become more erratic, quicker at times and longer at others, as Tibor himself represented the beast stumbling from side to side. Another peal of thunder would echo, this time fading and distant, and the tortle let himself fall to the ground, taking the part of a slaim beast. Then, from on his back, he continued the story.

"De beast had fallen! De men, dey had prayed to dere god, and he had answered! Over and over, light struck de beast! Crashin' into et again and again, each bolt lightin' et up to guide deh next shot! Tibor, he rush forward to congratulate the humans!... But he see it, de beast move!" Another rumble would shake the ground, as Tibor rolled to his feet, an action his people were very practiced in. With his staff on the ground, he would instead pull out his spear, jamming it into the soft earth before him like he were attacking a foe.

"So Tibor run up, and jam his spear in ets heart! All de men, dey cheer for Tibor as the beast collapse! Young Tibor, he walk to de beast mouth, he reach in, and he rip out his prize!" Once more, and for the final time as the magic fades, he would hold up the huge tooth, this time as a trophy for all to see as he took it off to pass among anyone who cared to have a look. It was real, and it was a true story, of how he met the clerics who would teach him to harness the power of Kelemvor.

Dusting himself off, he would look around at the rest, picking up his staff and putting away his spear. Once everyone had had a chance to look, he would cassually return the tooth to around his neck, letting it dangle there once more. A heavy weight, but a constant reminder of the power of Kelemvor. "So, tiefling... How you like dat pizzaz?"
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Dark Cloud
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Ye Adventurers Five...



After a few moments, the conclusion of the story came and went yet following it were the creak of wagon wheels and the humming of the gruff looking halfling driving the oxen forward. He was impressed by Tibor's tale but didn't say anything, because as the wagon was rounding a bend in the trail the halfling abruptly pulled at the bit and halted the wagon. "Oi lookey er' up ahead!" he hollered while pointing down the trail.

In the distance, about fifty feet from the wagon are a couple of dead horses laying sprawled out on the road. It surprises nobody as the halfling swears up a storm at the misfortune of it as it could cost another delay. Zin however notices quite a few details with her acute eyesight and elven hearing, she recognized the horses as the two owned by Gundren Rockseeker and a friend of his. The horses are flecked with black-feathered arrows indicating someone attacked the dwarf.

However her ears and eyes spotted movement in the nearby woodlands, that of short and squat humanoids chittering in an unknown tongue. Everyone hears something rustling in the woods and noise, it seems you aren't alone.



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Zinlynn


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Along the way, and during the story, Zin noticed shadows, and chittering off to the sides. As Tibor's story continued, she spoke in Elvish for those who can understand her, while unsheathing her rapier in preparation, "We're being followed. Stay on guard," She hoped that her rapier would let Tibor and Azra know that something is up, despite that they probably didn't understand her Elvish. She hoped their pursuers wouldn't understand the language.

Normally she would have applauded and listened to Tibor's story intently, but now that she was aware of another audience, she was now on guard.

The ambush made itself apparent when they turned a corner on the road, and saw...Gundren's horses. And they were clearly shot with arrows. But where was Gundren and his friend? She didn't ask that yet, as she heard that their followers had them surrounded. She warned her friends, with her rapier raised, "It's an ambush! Watch out!"

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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Dark Cloud
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Ye Adventurers Five...



Suddenly the thunk of an arrow breaks the tense silence followed by the bloodcurdling scream of your driver gripping his leg, where an arrow was piercing his leg dripping blood. He finally slumped over unconscious after a moment, however the sound of another bowstring firing broke the air yet only a loud twang followed by angry chittering followed it.

It appeared to be the work of goblins, as you see a pair rush from the bushes yet embarrassingly thet trip over one another and tumble down the hill.



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Ironheart shouted an elven war cry, and charged after the two Goblins rolling down the hill.
It wasn't long for the huge human to catch up to the two Goblins rolling a long the ground arguing.
Ironheart stood there holding the big maul in his hands, waiting for them to notice, but they never did.
Angus cleared his throat, and one of the goblins looked up at the grinning human warrior who was swinging a rather large hammer down at him.
*SPLAT*
The maul squashed the Goblins head like jelly, as bits of brain and blood splattered all over his little mate.
"You're next maggot breath"the human spoke in Elvish.
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Guardian Angel Haruki
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Zinlynn


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Almost to prove Zinlynn's warning true, an arrow flew and pierced the driver's leg. She was ready to move and avoid the arrows, but it seemed as though their attackers were flailing about. She watched as two of them tumbled down the hill for her and Ironheart to reach. The large man immediately ran over to one of the goblins and used his maul to practically turn the small creature into a bloody pancake.

She immediately leapt into action as well and moved to strike the second goblin close to Ironheart. She thrusted her rapier blade forward, in an attempt to deal a deadly blow to the goblin while his attention was on Ironheart.

After she struck she called to her allies, recalling the fact that Gundren and his friend are nowhere in sight, "Try and catch one alive! We'll need to question them!"

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Cu Chulainn
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Nethruel


Despite remaining silent and stoic, Nethruel was indeed quite annoyed at the antics of his allies. The Tiefling's flashy displays of showmanship were quite cumbersome, and his loud and mocking shouts weren't any better. The Tortle's story as well, while full of heart, was needlessly gaudy. At this point, Neth was considering breaking his facade early on to voice his concern. That said, it wasn't like Nethruel was annoyed at his allies because he lacked any patience with anyone, or because he was easily irritated. Being from the Feywild, Neth was quite used to the annoying pranks and tricks of its denizens. Instead, he was more annoyed at the fact they were doing these theatrics out in the wild, where they could easily be ambushed.

If they were this loud while traveling in the Gloaming Court, the winter would not forgive them.

Such was the case now, seeing that they were ambushed soon after. Goblins... and clumsy ones at that. Nethruel almost sighed in relief that they didn't attract anything particularly dangerous. Seeing the savage-looking human and the annoyingly nosy half-elf engage the goblins with ease, Nethruel clicked his tongue as he raised his hand instinctively towards one of the goblins, whispering eldritch secrets in Sylvan. Arcane energies surge from his hand, a blast of forceful magic flying from his hand towards the goblin.

Perhaps it was a miscalculation. Of course, Nethruel had to take into account the two allies engaged onto the goblin. At the very least, no actual collateral would occur as the forceful energies instead fizzle into the ground.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Necroes
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Looking past his allies, Tibor dropped his staff and reached for his holy symbol. While he had heard something coming towards them, it took him time, digging through his bag, to pull out the focus he would need for his magic. Once it was free, though, he quickly took note of what was going on and moved to act.

Striding forward, he placed himself between the small creatures attacking them and their fallen driver. With a whispered prayer to Kelemvor, he reached out with his magic and let it cascade over the halfling. In moments, the wound would glow with an odd, almost haunting blue light, as the magic worked to ensure the wound the halfling had suffered would not be fatal. Though it did not bring him back to health, the magic would spare him from Kelemvor's judgement for the moment.

"Watch out, friends! Batiri do not often travel in such few numbah! Tibor will protect deh little mon from dem. Batiri, hear Kelemvor's call!" Holding out his holy symbol, Tibor called on the strength of his god. A hollow ring filled the air around the goblin, as the underworld itself reached out to embrace him.

(The goblin takes 1 point of necrotic)

"Damn..." Tibor cursed, the goblin barely touched by the magic. It had left one of the creature's ears black and shriveled. Painful, no doubt, but ultimately a minor wound. Uninjured as it was, its soul had been too strongly anchored to the world for the magic to take full effect, but Tibor had expected more than just that. "Deh tide of magek blow against me, friends!"
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Kassarock
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Azra Flametongue




"How do I like it? I fucking love it!" Azra exclaimed at the Tortle's elaborate storytelling performance, applauding wildly as he did so. All thoughts of boredom fled from his mind, which became filled instead with images of the mythical jungles of chult and their giant ferocious lizards. Such a performance, with such passion, from such an unexpected source. He had to give his review, of course, to show what an attentive and appreciative audience he was.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful, my friend. I was not wrong when I said you were natural performer, and I can definitely see that pizazz now. You were just hiding it under that shell of yours before! My favourite part was the-" From over his shoulder Azra heard the driver shout something, probably just more congratulations.

"Quiet please, I am trying to give my review as an audience member. Now where was I? Ah yes, the sound design of this piece. Outstanding! Really the highlight of the whole thing, such dynamic use of the your voice and the use of thaumaturgy to produce the rumbling and those whispers? Bravo, could not have done better myself." The pretty young half-elf said something as well, but Azra didn't listen, he was too busy formulating some constructive criticism, his eyes rolled upwards in contemplation. How rude, trying to inject before he was finished.

"Just a moment, then you can chime in. Of course, there are areas for improvement. Costume and prop design, for example. I mean, while your attire could be more... engaging. And the tooth, it needs to be bigger. There's a prop maker in Waterdeep I know who cast a much larger on in plaster for only a few gold, I could make the introduc-" A blood curdling scream cut the Tiefling off. Another interruption, this one ruder than the last, and that was no way to respond to criticism, even if you disagreed.

"Well yes, I suppose authenticity does have its own 'charm', but there are other areas that could definitely be improved. What I think the whole thing was missing were some lighting effects, or better yet just go full atmospheric manipulation. I've heard of this druid that works in a theatre down in Amn, some sort of weather worker, they actually use their magic to physically manifest the weather conditions called for in the play being performed. I'm told its most immersive of experiences. Do you know any weather magic? Well, I suppose its beside the point really, just something to consider, if you are interested in elevating your performance to a higher form of art - and I mean, aren't we all? Is that not the most noble of pursuits that one can follow in this life? To live, to perform, for the sake of Art?!"

As he finished speaking Azra leapt up and struck a pose, one arm outstretched, the other with forearm turned to cover his eyes, as if he were some kind of dramatic actor performing in a play. There was no reply. Odd, it seemed everyone had been so eager to join the conversation moments before. Azra moved his elbow a fraction to peep out in order to see their reactions.

"Oh."

Azra stared at the slumped over halfing driver bleeding profusing from an arrow wound. He dropped his pose and turned around to see the big human and the young half-elf standing over a pair of what appeared to goblin corpses. It was hard to tell, one of them had been ground to paste with the human's large hammer. Further off, another pair of still living goblins brandished bows at them threateningly.

"Well fuck... you could have said something?!"

Reaching down to grip his arcane focus, a large red garnet set into a pedant hung around his neck, Azra let his infernal magic flow through him. His tongue comforted in his mouth as he rapidly spoke a stream of incantations in a language that sounded more like a series of retches, screams and hisses than actual words. From his other hand, a bolt of burning fire, aimed at one of the goblins in the distance, came flying out with a sudden whooshing noise.

thunk

The fire fizzled out to nothing on the ground a few feet away from the goblin.

"Oh... well fuck again!"



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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Dark Cloud
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Ye Adventurers Five...



The goblin splattered with it's companions entrails looked horrified and looked ready to bolt, however suddenly the sound of a bowstring being released filled the air and a black-feathered arrow struck the wild man, hit square in the knee Ironheart roared in pain. Angry for it's companions demise the goblin on the ground gripped it's scimitar and slashed at the man who killed it's companion and with a ribbon of blood Ironhearts neck was sliced open causing him to fall back in the dirt choking on his own blood.



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Zinlynn


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Zinlynn was more focused on the battle than on Azra's criticism of Tibor's story. Her eyes went wide when a goblin got a good hit on Ironheart. She gasped "Hearty!" in concern as he fell bleeding. She let out a growl as she moved to attack that goblin. While her attack was not a sneak attack, she still was able to find a vulnerable spot on the attacking goblin and she pierced that area with her rapier.

She called to her friends, taking up a leadership role, "Tibs! Hearty needs your help! Azzy, Neth, focus on the archers!"

Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Cu Chulainn
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Nethruel


As much momentum as they had in the beginning, the tides quickly began to turn against the party through a series of misses and near-hits. It was as expected, seeing as their theatrics earlier would cause them to be disorganized now. Perhaps Neth would actually point this out at some point, breaking his cover in exchange for some peace and quiet. Before he did, however, misfortune struck.

The savage human was felled by an arrow from a ranged adversary. Following that, the other goblin rushed up and sliced his throat clean open. Unless any of their healers acted quickly, the man was surely dead. Even if that were the case, it seemed he would be too crippled for the rest of this expedition, and a hindrance to the rest even after he's healed. The cold dread of Winter would claim another soul, it seemed.

Nethruel would see to it, however, that blood shall be paid in kind.

Seeing the half-elf make quick work of the goblin in her immediate vicinity, Nethruel's attention turned to the archer, arcane energies surging from his left hand once more. The eldritch magics flared outwards in the shape of a pale blue spear, flying right for the goblin's chest. Hitting its mark, the goblin would find itself impaled by the spear, albeit not directly. Instead, it would feel as if its very soul was impaled with eldritch force, like a spectral icicle had found its way right through it. This was the nature of the magic given to Nethruel by the Prince of Frost, baleful energies that strike at one's life force. Such a thing was only effective against taking lives, and not much else.

Seeing the goblin's life slowly snuffed out by his attack, Nethruel once more raised his book to his face, content that the job was done. He had no wounds to lick, and a job to accomplish. He even didn't take any time to mourn for their losses, or at least work to prevent a potential one. Such was the nature of one painted with the pale whiteness of Winter. Unforgiving and uncompromising, cruel and practical.

Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by TGM
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Alandra Golduck frowned as she lowered her shield from her side of the caravan, her eyes scanning the forest brush in the distance for more movement; for more goblins.

The blonde-haired fighter hated jobs like these, though she knew full well they were the usual affair. They didn’t often make the best stories of heroic deeds, but they were the reality of Faerun. Very few people had stories like Rannek of Nesmé, whom she had learned of through Jandek’s dwarven companion who had a penchant for stories. It had been years since the old dwarf had staggered south and she did miss hearing what he had to say. The thought buried, she was quick to remind herself though she was now alone she wasn’t completely so. The others who had been charged with the very same quest were a motley sort, though she never felt they were of the unseemly sort.

When the berserker fell to the ground she was caught off-guard just as the others were.

She did not know him well, but to die from a goblin of all things was shocking. But even the tallest and strongest could be felled by the smallest blade. As the Eladrin brought forth his strange sorcery on the last goblin the area around them became still. Was that the last of them? She wasn’t completely sure, even with the initial skirmish being over. She would be a fool to lower her guard in such a moment. She considered rushing over to Ironheart, but she was no cleric or paladin; had she done so the only thing she could offer was a shovel for the grave she would have to dig.

“Keep your guard up. There could be more of them.” She spoke, albeit briefly.

As the blonde kept her ears and eyes open, nothing strange seemed to stick out to her.

Sure, there was the path, but nothing suspicious that she could make out. The only thing she could hear was Ironheart as he choked on his own blood. Her eyes moved toward his direction. She frowned.

Rolls:
Perception → 22
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With all the goblins seeming to be dead, Tibor had a choice to make. He could either move to treat the injuries of the halfling, which were not life-threatening now but had a serious risk of infection, or he could try and save Ironheart. The warrior had served them well, but his wounds were severe, and likely beyond the repair of even healing magics to fully fix. If Tibor did spare him death, he may well never work as an adventurer again, never able to fight. Where Tibor was from, such a decision was easy. A warrior who could not fight was as good as dead already.

Turning to the halfling, he pinned the small body down. The arrow in his leg would need to be removed, and it would take some skill to do so without inflicting further damage. Luckily, his magic would be able to fix any damage Tibor inflicted while treating the wound. Hopefully, the treatment would not be worse than the wound itself. These arrows were of poor quality, and if he was not careful, they could snap when removed.

(Medicine check to remove arrow: 22)

Carefully, Tibor lifted the leg. He was in luck, it had missed the bone and struck only meat. Moreover, the small size meant it would be all the easier to do what was needed. Gripping the arrow, he very deftly shoved it in deeper, until the head was protruding from the other side. The halfling was in luck, as the arrow had held through the push. That meant no wood shards left in the wound.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Tibor snapped off the back half of the arrow. Then, he pulled it the rest of the way through, leaving a clean entrance and exit wound with no shrapnel to worry about. Before the halfling could lose too much blood, Tibor would press his hand to the wound, grasping his holy symbol as he called on Kelemvor to heal the wounds of this lost soul, on the cusp of death. A deep, dark clue light would fill the air around him, as positive energy flowed back from the realm of the dead, forcing the soul firmly back into its body, and healing its wounds.

(Halfling is healed for 11 hit points. Tibor expends a first level spell slot on Cure Wounds; Grave Clerics heal for max on creatures at 0 hit points)
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