Gordian Nought

The Hub Planet - Vasishka - Open

Alarms blared within the diplomatic quarters, while the Exoframe belonging to the sister of Creft confirmed several novel logs, intermittently upcoming in her stellar news stream. The suited female watched, with labyrinthine tubes humming, for the response from their governmental host.

After providing the activation of the Demo-Cles, the UFP’s robotic courier suddenly stood perfectly still, unwavering, in lieu of the sirens until the last bell had finalized its analog dirge. The automated sentinel then soon pivoted and ogled Gavin and Vropda once more initially, then paraded its façade of eye contact around the sector.

“Citizens, the travel ban is lifted. If your presence is not required here, the Federation strongly urges your departure while free travel remains.”

Multiple alien languages ensued, repeating the information and ensuring equal opportunity linguistics for all present, cognizant of the seemingly impulsive repeal of the interstellar embargo. Vropda seized vantage of this discontinuity, involving ACASIAS to deliver encrypted text messages to each of her superiors: Ceraun, Abasil, Chayyliel/Drekavac, Nick Zelthis, and her brother, the General.

“Brethren, the verses of influence never disappear; they lie dormant, awaiting those with the will to palpably rouse them. Though this galactic sanction has been rescinded, this sporty derby still mandates a political audience from us, of which I tire already. The Council is the face of the Scroungers; I am but a lowly trigger finger, bent on pressing buttons if not constantly straightened. For this, I will leave to our bright refuge of a million sons.”

The missive’s limit was reached, requiring a second pause before the ordinal diatribe continued.

“And daughters. The Universal Nova. May the causalities of this power struggle not die in debate, but disperse as a memorial to our glory. From the crust to the core, kindred.”

End of transmission.

The digital epistle would be perfectly intimated in the Captain’s voice, rendered by the multifaceted talents of their sprawled yeast-based AI.

Awaiting for the ascertained delivery from all the intended recipients, the female Scrounger pirouetted jerkily in front of the gravity manipulator, her visor savoring a grim smile. Home is where she exhumed a decent graveyard of drone runts for further experimentation.

And strangers can vanish without awkward questions.

“Sir Librom, apologies for the schizophrenic undertakings. This is our chance to embark from Vasishka before truth becomes rumor. Are you ready?”

@JBRam2002, @Zverda, @Hekazu, @Big Dread, @Corporal Lance, @Fer1323

Tales of Maoria: A 5E D&D Adventure

Likely, life.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Afflicted with the agony of his family ransomed as barter for a mere dual with a half-dragon, Longwater attempted to billow through his armored guard, but to no avail, as the Castellan added insult to the injury of helplessness.

”Let me through! Those are my wife and children out there!”

Nighthill, in response to the illuminated situation, beckoned the heroes:

”My friends, you've demonstrated your prowess all through this frightful night. I realise this is an awful burden to ask you to bear, especially after all you have already done for us, but any of you has a better chance to defeat that... thing, than any of my militia have."

From a stunted distance, the demanding opponent, who split the morning with his war cry, promenaded easily within an archer’s strike. No weapon or armor could be discerned, save his claws and cerulean scales, bearing no apparent tarnish or dent. A stripe bearing spears nudged the unfortunate four denizens further into view, as the kobolds waited expectantly for an answer.

The pirate motioned to the half-blood and the paladin to ingress closer, ignoring Kyra. “Lads…” A pause and a stare occupied several breaths before words flowed once more. “There’s never been a dwarven smith who could match the reckless endurance of an orc’s constitution. But….” Another intermission allowed the minimal flattery to soak in prior to hinting his disapproval of the barbarian. “I sense that wilted exhaustion has bettered our Orchid. Your need for sleep bloomed in complete transparency since our last return.”

Looking further into the divine aspirant’s golden haloes, the druid squawked, “Where hope has no champion, evil reigns matchless. I know not of the grassy borders you hail, nor of the Lady your untamed sword esteems. This rift in time is the beginning of the world's remaining history. If not Greenest. If not now. Then this jaded rot will slowly engulf these lands and eventually the wild your feral eyes herald from.”

The decrepit posture cracked as the Tethyrian fang gestured the blue-haired halfing to descend down the stairs again to the tunnel, leaving the trio. “Decide amongst yourselves, but my straw is for Ashkar Brannor as the Elect in this dawn of need. At any rate, whoever accepts.” The tongue-ring wavered, while the sailor’s pupils glanced at Parum. “We each will provide you guidance and inspiration before battle.”

Effects

Torus suggests Brannor over Kyra and Orchid. In character, Brannor has provided the most tact, without suffering from anger or recklessness. The pirate feels that if Brannor accepts it would not be of rage or rashness, but mulled over with precision assuming he consents to this potentially fatal skirmish.

Torus will wave Parum to descend below to the old tunnel, awaiting for the three to decide.

Whoever is the selected Champion, Torus will cast Guidance until it is a +4, so his/her Initiative will benefit from this bonus. Parum has mentioned in the OOC that she will give away her last Bardic Inspiration. I suggest if Kyra is not the chosen warrior that she casts Bless right before the battle so as to benefit our Elect with Guidance, Bless, and one use of Bardic Inspiration.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

I can easily post once we agree on it OOC. If it remains undecided, I will post Torus' thoughts nonetheless.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Is it allowed to swing a Greatsword while wearing a shield? I understand that with the dual-wielding hand-axes, thanks to PHB p195, you would have to forfeit wearing a shield.

I am curious to what @The Harbinger of Ferocity's stance is on this little skirmish.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Mild sarcasm was intended since Parum's AC is 13 and HP 10. Neither would I volunteer the old crazy pirate.

My vote would be either Brannor or Orchid.

Here is my pitiful attempt of a breakdown for each nomination, assuming we have finished a long-rest.

Ashkar Brannor:
Initiative = +1
Strength = 18
Athletics = +6
HP = 12
AC (Chainmail) = 16 + Shield (2) = 18
Greatsword = +6 to hit; 2d6+4 damage, without shield

Orchid Wildflower:
Initiative = +2
Strength = 17
Athletics = +5
HP = 14
AC (Unarmored Defense) = 14 (DEX 2 + CON 2) + Shield (2) = 16
Dual wielding Handaxe x 2 (Light) = +5 for first hit for 1d6+3; +3 for second hit for 1d6: 2d6+3 if both hits, without shield
Rage:
+2 damage rolls which increases this to 1d6+5 and 1d6+2 = 2d6+7, if both hits
Advantage to Strength checks (Athletics)
Resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage.

If the half-dragon misses twice, our paladin will come ahead. If he never misses, our barbarian comes ahead.

If we haven't long-rested, I would nominate Brannor.

If we have long-rested, Orchid is slightly ahead if he dual wields 2 handaxes, has rage to halven damage from non-magical weapons, has advantage with +5 to grappling, and regains the benefit of Restless endurance.

These are my two cents, with my deposit depending if we have a long rest.

Now I believe we should all go down together in support of our 'champion,' in case something goes awry. No reason for us to stay in the keep, even if we haven't rested.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

I believe we should nominate Parum as our champion.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

@Hekazu, Torus is planning to snooze with the next submission? Should I post thus? Or is there more promised?

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

Noting the somber tone the gnome bequeathed, when mentioning his acquaintance of the Green Man, the reborn warlock exhaled an angst of suspicion. His testimony reeked of mournful homilies and funeral dirges, as if his comrade was already sacrificed to the pyre of darkness. Still, the wizard hinted to his lasting existence, an obviating reference to the remaining survivors of this dearth of a town. Perhaps, he was not his pal at all, conceivably a foreigner as no name hinged upon his previous description.

The bite-sized mage unfortunately offered no respite for further contemplation as his fluttering robes scurried down the cobbled rue.

“We can’t stay here!”

Wick would give chase, but first, while touching her fleece, her head nodded to her Beloved to venture thinly ahead. She then provided some slighted insight to their supposed tour guide, in a polite, hushed pitch. “Little one, we must now hide in whispers. Not bellow like thunder.” Before trotting inaudibly to physically meet their new forged ally, the hands of the cleric reached out to ornament the shoulder of Thea, adorning the paladin and her armor with divine assistance.

“Conduct the path, friend, but only together will we orchestrate its muted music." Her chin continued to glance down the brim chapeau, swinging agape to allow another soft murmur to escape. "If one rushes, henceforth, silence must follow, with foresight leading.”

Effects:

Wick uses Minor Illusion to whisper to Birbin, to be a little quieter when guiding the party further into town.

Wick then casts Guidance on Thea, with a benefit of +4 to Stealth, as she may require it since she is in disadvantaged full plate.

Wick rolls a 19 for Stealth.

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

D&D 5e - High Seas and Tall Tales

An hour worth of breast strokes lingered with nothing new for the recently approved swimmer of Zendikar. The jester, whether disguised as a forgettable warrior-climber or a Dyn imposter, nevertheless, enjoyed the sublime influence the sea wreaked upon itself. The salty rollers always endured her perpetual flapping and much more. From unassuming whitecaps to destructive tsunamis, the ocean survived, both as sadist and masochist, obliged by geographic and weathered forces, but also adapting and paying them forward to any who would grace her topmost shell. Still, this realm did not forfeit any visual constraint of its unceasing ripples, propagating to no demonstrable end, merely now to be disturbed by a dotted islandic mass in Koan’s approaching horizon.

The Merish village.

Mentioned by the ginormous wolf, the marine hamlet existed as a sprinkled intersection the pirates of the SS Lady Slipper would have to cross on their trek to find the Marid.

Why is everyone slowing down all of the sudden?

The blanche warrior braked her splashing momentarily, as her friends hesitated in their individual strides. Their drake guide quickly curdled beneath an underwater tide, dropping off the inconspicuous heroes before a sentry of many looming guards, posted outside the outskirts of the civilization. Raising her chin, ever so slightly, above her bobbing possé, the clown’s pupils engorged with ocular excitement.

This architecture is beautiful! Ooh! Ooh! Look at those buildings made out of coral! And that’s pre…

Her chromatic thoughts were soon interrupted by an incoming announcement.

“State your purpose. Be quick about it, or feel the wrath of Poseidon.”

Unfortunately, the masked geisha believed that whenever she was jolted away from her eccentric meditation, the universe was only speaking to her, demanding a response. Sinking her head slightly, the comic elevated her arms towards the absent sky in complete surrender.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Our gang, here, means no harm, compadrés.”

Projecting her limbs upward, she gradually approached the trident bearing infantry. Tempted to conjure an illusionary white flag, the comic braved a more subtle use of magic. Each step soon riddled with snowflakes from various angles, icy fractals emitting from every heel pressed upon the submerged currents passing them by.

“All of us were sent by…” She paused awkwardly, probing for the name, Bledig, but discontinued her search for the sake of fluent conversation, “the Steward of the Gate. He directed us here, as we are in search of the Verdant Stream.”

The pale joker mentally applauded herself for listening to the Theullai earlier. Once her boots finally settled on a partitioned reef supporting a portion of their post, the harlequin halted her aquatic promenade and motioned to the frigid medallion noosed around her captain’s neck, in hopes the filmic evidence would prevent a forthcoming jihad.

The disillusioned diamond studded tongue, however, tactlessly bubbled on its esplanade of negotiations.

“See that’s proof! Now. My name is Kor…” The glossy muscle reflexively could not escape the subsequent fibrillation. “an. It's Koran. Let’s say it together. Good. So, if you all would lower your weapons, we can all be friends.”

Mechanics

While she is walking underwater, Koan uses Shape Water to mimic the previous landing style of the Theullai, to project and suggest a subliminal connection with him. Each step spawns brittle icicles beneath, washed away from the current; the last one quickly disappearing after a third new usage of Shape Water is required.

She ends, with literary liberty, standing on a portion of substance that is supporting the Gate, if permitted, with hands still up, metaphorically waving a non-existent proverbial flag.