Gordian Nought

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

Hmmmm... A town.

The diviner elevated her rod and appealed to those leading their venturing band. Soon, words baptized their petrified station before the noted Hall.

“Everyone. Be still.” Shuffling to the Templar, she hissed and caressed the sleeping Hawk upon the monster slayer’s shoulder. “Let us stand here for discretion, prudence, and caution, as I am unsure who and what this settlement houses. Whether they bury the dead. Care for beast and child. Possess a place of worship. Loftier eyes should peek into their affairs since skies grow ever grim, before all march into their muddy matters.”

Leaning on her gemmed staff, the mage furrowed her brows and fastened her lids, while the white bird unlocked sight and flight. The snowy familiar bolted into the dusky firmament, scavenging the landscape with eagle-like vision, eager to discern the common business of this peculiar civilization.

A mouth broke breath. “I see."

Effects:

Wick will cast Guidance (1d4) on the Hawk, targeting the Perception Ability Check before the Hawk takes flight. This die can be rolled before or after making the ability check. The spell then ends afterwards. Wick will then send the Hawk 100 feet in the air, and telepathically view through the Hawk’s eyes.

The Hawl’s Perception rolls at Advantage are 11 and 8. Wick will then roll the Guidance die for the first roll and gains an additional 4. This raises the Hawk’s Perception to 15, slightly better than its Passive of 14.

Wick will roll Nature to discern how many hours have passed since they entered this realm, to help decipher the length of the day. She rolls a natural 20, totaling at 24.

Wick
HP: 17/17
AC: 17 (Breast Plate (14) + DEX Mod (1) + Shield (2))
Weapon: quarterstaff in non-dominant hand, others (sheathed)

Arcane Focus: Fleece Necklace

Spell Slots:
Warlock (Level 1): 0/1 First Level (recharged)
Full Spell Caster (Level 2): 0/3 First Level (recharged from Arcane Recovery)
Globe of Light Limit: 1/1 (used)

Spell Attack/DC:
Cleric: 3/11
Warlock: 6/14
Wizard: 4/12

Arcane Recovery: 1/Day after finishing a short rest (used)
Fey Presence: 1/short rest (recharged)

@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda,@The Harbinger of Ferocity

D&D 5e - High Seas and Tall Tales

Waving her sleeves, the wispy brume dispelled via zephyrs provided by the chilled heavens above and the frigid waters below. Once wind and arms exiled the smelly haze, a ghost pirate loading a firearm hooked into her peripheral vision, with a prompt, terrified scream to boot. Her voice seemed to carry over the gales and squalls flapping the masts, which froze the gnome in place along the railing, before her nose planted haphazardly into Koan’s gluteal cleft. A forward jump saved her from imminent comedy.

“You scared me, Reemes! Gosh! Especially with all that heat you’re packing.”

Inquiries and a stream of consciousness soon followed from the tinkerer as she scribbled excitedly into her trifling of a notebook.

And, so many questions…

“Looks like she has it...” The wintry monstrosity flared its nostrils. “Er, I mean, him. Sorry, Mr. Ice Wolfie!” She squinted her left eye to the short wizard, hoping the gesture would smooth over her blatant awkwardness. The jester sustained the side conversation with a whisper and more winking, “Under control. Phew! He is awfully cute, Reemes! Almost too adorable! Do you think we can keep him?”

The rest of the crew seemed, at best, distracted. Garnesh possessed other concerns, namely his lost weapons, whilst the Beholder guffawed dissonant chuckles, able to raise a haiku-rapping vampire from the dead.

A proclamation quickly interrupted any before they could interject.

“… Prove to me thou art worthy of salvation!” The Theullai spake.

In response, the tiny mage soon urbanized a walking, talking miniature kiln, full with afterglow. Eliza, then, did the unimaginable.

She petted the beast. Wowzers!

The clown thought it best to cheerlead from the sidelines, whereupon two dancing will-o’-wisps of light occupied each hand like pom poms. The half-drow knew that intelligent peeps could get nervous at times. Maybe, this cheer would help ameliorate the negotiations.

The harlequin squawked her chant, loud and proud.

“A-B-B-E-R-C-R-O-F-T!
What’s that spell? Gnome Pride!
She’s steppin’up, so step aside!
Eliza’s the best; Lady Slipper’s here to win,
Or a gnome’s power will catch you again!”

Effects

Koan will cast the cantrip, Dancing Lights, to emulate a cheerleader's pom poms.

Should she roll for Performance? :)

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The frisky foreplay between Aasimar were noteworthy, especially from a hawk’s perspective.

Full of tenacious punctuation and aberrant exclamation.

Inscribing in the now repossessed journal, the beautiful solon feverishly confined her perverse cogitations onto the paged mausoleum, subjects spanning from the disentombed avian ornaments to the Celestials’ theories on exhumed spirit and resolve. Most of the ruminations' paragraphs dedicated a redundant anaphora on the clumsy topic of passion regularly exchanged amongst their troupe.

Wit willfully wrestling with worship.

To the reborn sage, it seemed, their corporate empathy and friendship organically stemmed from the company’s evolution of a haphazard storge into a brotherly philia, now ever marching under a united cause. The natural affection, each possessed for one another, spawned forth from the trenches of this accustomed kinship mounting into that meshed mob felt amongst all as a closely knit family, who forever would tend to their clan’s wounds and afflictions as if they were their own.

No matter what.

Fascinating.

If this was the case, this inkling struck the cleric as not dissimilar from the recent brawl against the giant ravens, no less instinctually foraging and buoying resources for their younger brood above the waters of extinction, engineered to do so from a mindless, genetic lineage. Bred from thelema and other erotic programs. Built upon hormones and decaying obsessions.

Could such mechanical adoration ever paint an agapé, decorating altruistically the ceiling of their emotional chapel upon the scaffolding of charity incarnate? A worthy legacy against demonic self-aggrandizement, portraying virtuosity amongst Light and creation. Was this love not gentle and kind, but deterministically self-serving? A contingency constructed out of social trust and expectations?

A sigh expelled.

“I believe my eyes have questionably stomached the tyranny of conscious and archived thought, long enough. It happens our jaunt pukes forth both sharp and flat…”

The warlock silently capped her pen, while closing the chronicled memoirs to such fleeting fantasies, as the pirate poet commenced a song of rest. She comprehended and thrived within that isolative honesty and detested the intrusive confusion such expressive relationships fetched. However, discussed dialectic was an echoed necessity. Her face generated a fascia of camaraderie to camouflage any buried awkwardness. This new body proved useful to this ulterior intention, where her former elfish existence would have been slightly less graceful. Mocking a fake grin, the erudite youth sculpted a supplement to stalk the denouement of one of Cesar’s tunes.

Then, a yawn. “… notes in our wake. Low and…”

Standing and clapping, she continued. “High. Excellent, Cesar! Your melody’s clout merits that of ten armies. Life requires such a militant pulse. Bravo!”

Wick’s smirk and applause quickly dissipated as she glanced upon this world’s luminary, simultaneously treading further into the vale’s orchard.

“The frozen sun appears to never twirl to the tempo of the day, though. Come! We must not be ensnared in the silence of its vigil. Our boots should disperse soon and dance to the wind’s music.”

@Zverda@Hekazu@JBRam2002@Cu Chulainn@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Big Dread

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

True, but...

It can be more of a deterrant to any if their hired help such as sellswords or mercenaries merely employed but not sympathetic to the cause. Besides, we do not know if she bears any political value since she is such a fanatic. Our prisoner may be partial or crucial to the cause. Those men who left her behind may, in actuality, have been her bodyguards.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Not to meta. Just to prevent stagnancy.

Should we venture to the top of the keep and demand a quorum with their leader? We can threaten to publicly execute one of their followers.

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The last raven fled, scattered into the vale’s veil, nevermore to be seen.

Theodore did not bear the scars of his avian fallout, nor any radiating shock from the blows commiserated by the forest. His health appeared intact, without any semblance of wear or tear on the flesh that shrouded his religious bones. The feline quickly apologized and scrutinized the cultist, offering an explanation for the chaotic series of events. The veneer of his sacred mask and armor suffered slight corrosion from talons, magic, and the subsequent dive. Otherwise, the Templar appeared in an ironic nirvana, whereupon his flesh did not herald for any want but the toll of war witnessed, suggested the contrary.

The bard was right. A rest was in order.

Flourishing her scythe and with a flick of Wick’s wrist, the Fey gift glided within its ornate scabbard. Staring past the foliage into an upward heaven, the earth beneath the staff quivered as the diviner whistled for her feathered assistant from the cirrus sky. Instead of gracefully plunging through the branches, a hawk miraculously phased into existence upon the shoulder of the monster slayer, extending its wingspan to shield the wild, rejuvenate his health and release the vise slowly dragging her fellow Aasimar into the depths of this unconscious mystery.

Look over these stones?

The Tabaxi voice tinted while her concentration lent mystical aid to the Celestial. Wedging her staff upon her breastplate, the cleric tossed the plum jewelry from hand to hand, peering into their dense hearts. The ambivalence of the gems did not reward her with the discernment of their alignment. Rather the deep violent hues prompted more of a perfect mixture of raw energy and passive worship, prompting sensations of aerial veneration.

Extending a set of fingers into her belt pouch, the Warlock seemed suddenly distraught, realizing the pearl must have been lost in the transitional trek from home to this plane. Frustrated, the reborn sage gathered a charm in either palm, manipulating them between thumb and ring finger, exposing each to the sun’s radiance, hoping a prismatic reveal would occur.

Nothing.

“Youth and fate have not blessed me with the necessary equipment to decrypt these sparkling cyphers. Their secrecy does not appear to divulge any transparency to the Light, yet they do not sprout shadows within the Darkness. I sense no foul or warmth. Deep in its roots exists a kernel of power. Whether these seeds will blossom into a friend or foe remains to be seen.”

The former librarian lobbed back each stone to the approaching ranger and monk, then began to sit against a sapling's bark, leaning heavily on its trunk. A familiar diary soon manifested once more, with accompanying ink.

“For now, my musings stamp them as untrustworthy strangers, at the very least.”

Effects

Wick will sheath her sickle.

Using Thaumaturgy, Wick will tremble the ground and whistle for her Hawk.

Wick will dismiss and resummon her Familiar onto Theodore. Once in contact and touching, Wick will cast Cure Wounds for a total of 5 to Theodore's HP.

Without a 100 GP pearl, Wick is unable to cast Identify, her Knowledge Cleric Domain Ritual.

Afterwards, via the Familiar, Wick will cast Guidance on Theodore.

Wick
HP: 17/17
AC: 17 (Breast Plate (14) + DEX Mod (1) + Shield (2))
Weapon: Quarterstaff in non-dominant hand, daggers (sheathed) and Sickle (sheathed)

Arcane Focus: Fleece Necklace

Spell Slots:
Warlock (Level 1): 1/1 First Level used on Hex
Full Spell Caster (Level 2): 1/3 First Level used on Cure Wounds
Globe of Light Limit: 1/1 used

Spell Attack/DC:
Cleric: 3/11
Warlock: 6/14
Wizard: 4/12

Arcane Recovery: 1/Day after finishing a short rest, likely will happen shortly to replenish the 1/3 Full caster spell slots
Fey Presence: 1/short rest (used)

The Hub Planet - Vasishka - Open

Vropda

The Hub Planet - Vasishka - Open

"… Sister, please do see she does not go too far in her explanation. Not to the classified stuff and all. I'll keep our guards in check."

The Captain scrutinized her cerulean compatriot and the scholastic Aeon, naturally attracted to the conversation cuddled between the duo. Her frenetic visors ensnared the glint of orbiting satellites, stranded by the intergalactic sanctions, until she was within recorder-shot. Before much data was exchanged, Vropda interjected her Exoframe, obscuring his vision and obstructing his interrogation.

Not satisfied by her initial physical assessment of Gavin, he offered a verbal salve, to satiate the curious wound in the sage’s question.

“Witness this, young humanoid. We are the Scroungers. Nothing less or more. Know, though, our name is not our own. Our ancestors borrowed this moniker from rumors. Our honor is not our own. We plundered this prize from our descendants.”

Vropda inspected again the computing devices hosting tubes running along her upper extremities, circulating bodily fluids to and fro, for nutrition, suppression, and provocation.

“Our blood is not our own. It is a gift and a curse of generations, yet unborn and birthed. We now carry this zeal with devotion. We come to exchange heritage and legacy. Death smirks at everyone. We are only here, on Vasishka, to smile back. That is all.”

The titanium skull stared at the man with the Datapad, whilst Vropda’s hidden frown concealed itself under the myriad of digital screens, flashing messages and numbers outside her inner helmet. Swiveling to the Doc, her metallic voice irked out more whispered tones, suggesting diplomacy and discretion should pervade their delicate dialogue.

“Lady Farohm, in efforts to topographically chart the geodesy of this Hub Planet, my suit’s sensors confirmed his field. Three times. I trust your tact, but if these calculations serve us correctly, the inquisitive one before you is emitting a rather strong gravitational potential.”

@fer1323@Hekazu@JBRam2002

D&D 5e - High Seas and Tall Tales

Cease fire! Cease fire!

Given the window of opportunity, the drow clutched the stiff spokes and mustered a tide of vigor against the spouting watery introitus before the SS Lady Slipper. While spindling the felloe's priapisms, the ship’s pulleys heaved and panted with excruciating oily friction, not yielding yet to the potency of the multiple waves of the orgasmic sea upon its hull. Finally, with more than enough girth and time, the watercraft eventually pursued the plotted peronei curve, thrusting away from the portal that pled to envelop our captain's wooden vessel.

It seemed her friends would live to cackle another day. But hey, why wait, if you can laugh now.

After the Ninja and the Saber completed their uncouth mutterings, the clown welled up a desire to chat with the howling monster. It appeared Koan finally stood erect at the helm of her destiny, on a ship with no land in sight, affronted now by Drakes and a Theullai. The cauterized geisha always longed for this kind of adventure, frequently gazing into the setting horizon with religious daydreams of fervor atop the Mizzen. But she whispered and wished more for the normalcy of a worn, average life.

Like tears lost in rain.

Strolling ever gradually before the wintry wolf, her body morphed and altered the surrounding scenery to mesh with each spoken sentence as she battered words along the wind, contemplating the exotic existence of a wintry canine condemned to keep watch over a mystical gate.

“Esquire Wolf, have you ever sailed completely across an ocean and set paws on land? I want that one more time before I pass. I want to be at the Border Kingdoms. To feel the gallops of Calishite geldings surging past me along the fields of Shaar. To swill candied feasts and fire wine in the Old Empires, at kings’ tables within enemy camps. To stand on the summits of Shao in southern Ku-tar and smoke ghost pipes while waiting for the rising dawn to unleash another age’s worth of searing light. To enjoy one more night of lutes and flutes at the bar of the Cork and Bottle.”

Each step and statement fleshed out a still image and a new donned disguise to portray every fleeting moment.

“To venture to Chult’s coastline. Walk on the outer wall of Mystra’s greatest temple. Climb Blackstaff’s tower. Ride the Wyrm River. Stare at the frescoes of Vulpomyscan, Tsaparang and Merlan. To sit in Kelemvor’s garden and read one more good tombstone.”

She halted as the deck ran out of real estate, as she returned to her familiar jester corpus.

“I yearn the warmth of a virgin man in a crisp set of sheets.”

The clown stereotypically licked her lips in front of her glacial audience.

“Most of all, I want to sleep. To dream when I was a girl. Give me that. Grant us all that. Just one more time. Because even if you destroy the last of me, know that it will never be the best of me.”

She clicked her heels. A confetti of smog silently, but non-lethally, bellowed out of the strange bard's sharky behind, quickly enrapturing her with murky miasma and violent vapor, obscuring the spinning wheel and the adjacent bewildered gnome.

Effects:

Koan will attempt to maneuver the SS Lady Slipper away from the Water Spout and the Thuellia. She employs Tides of Chaos, to grant advantage before she rolls for the ability check.

She barely passes with a 19. DM approved.

Koan will then walk very slowly while preaching to the Theullai. During this slow stroll, she will have a monologue while utilizing Misty Vision’s at-will Still Image and the Hat of Disguise's at-will Self-Disguise, to very frequently change her wardrobe and foster more appropriate attire for the accompanying overlapping faint facades. Once she gets as close as she can without diving into the sea, she will return to her normal guise and plead that the crew's intentions are merriment and adventure, not intrusion and destruction, as their ship subtly inches away.

During the multiple illusions, the DM triggered Wild Mage Surge roll for each 1st level Silent Image, overtly triggering a 1d100 Wild Mage Surge, based on the ever rising DC, even if each failed. Koan rolled a 64, casting Fog Cloud centered on herself.

Koan clicks her heels to deactivate Boots of Speed.

Koan also converts both Warlock spell slots into Sorcerery Points.

@JBRam2002

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

<Snipped quote by Gordian Nought>
Was Torus not leaving?

In any case, I'll be PMing the results to the people that remain in the room once I know for certain who are there and I have received all the rolls.

@Hekazu

He is. Likely he didn't hear anything.