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Wick picked her climbing pace up vehemently to keep in par with that of Theodore and Katia. There had been surprisingly no difficulties about the hiked journey. She had witnessed this routine many times before, and, now aided with magic, the stealthy ascent appeared effortless, in the comparative lieu of walking. Her eventual stance dappled into the sun and shade on the overcast rooftops, stepping between the parted boughs of her Beloved and the monster slayer. Under their impatient vantage, to the right of them, the ground heralded the surprise of shadows as the misty atmosphere was riddled with remnants and slivers of wood and door. The air seemed to kiss one's skin as a laudatory cry reared from an axe bearing knight not yet consumed by the darkness, emerging from the Hall.
“Champions!” he yelled, thrusting Hela in the air, above his head to get their attention, “to me!”
The warlock would be the second of the wardens of light to strike. From somewhere deeper in the heart of the pandemonium, came the enemies’ drones and moans, in consequence of the ranger’s initial attack. The façade of victory was a bit early, as a mage in a smoky mantle, below, commanded his inky flock, with libretto of damnation and a scythe of coal, to confront the company encircling their flanks. Presumably, the reincarnated cleric hoped and depended on fate, recognizing that not all lands would be lost to such obscurity, as the familiar bright sphere materialized again into her hand. Leaning on her staff as a fulcrum, the arm, bearing the luminosity, flung in a wide arc towards the fiends.
“Under this new dawn, they will kneel and beg us for the sun’s perfection.”
@Hekazu@JBRam2002@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Cu Chulainn@Rig
“Champions!” he yelled, thrusting Hela in the air, above his head to get their attention, “to me!”
The warlock would be the second of the wardens of light to strike. From somewhere deeper in the heart of the pandemonium, came the enemies’ drones and moans, in consequence of the ranger’s initial attack. The façade of victory was a bit early, as a mage in a smoky mantle, below, commanded his inky flock, with libretto of damnation and a scythe of coal, to confront the company encircling their flanks. Presumably, the reincarnated cleric hoped and depended on fate, recognizing that not all lands would be lost to such obscurity, as the familiar bright sphere materialized again into her hand. Leaning on her staff as a fulcrum, the arm, bearing the luminosity, flung in a wide arc towards the fiends.
“Under this new dawn, they will kneel and beg us for the sun’s perfection.”
@Hekazu@JBRam2002@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Cu Chulainn@Rig
(The following events take place after the long rest; collab with @Lauder@Hekazu@Zverda@JBRam2002)
Belching a loud yawn, the jester marched into full view, still masqueraded in blanche skin, but slightly scantily clad. "That hit the spot! Ooooh! Everyone's awake." Ogling at Jill beginning to prance and strum her lute, the clown yodeled at the top of her drowned lungs.
"Nemiea couldn't help but laugh at the woman's mannerisms, finding it just amusing, shy or crass. "I would never turn down a bit of dancing," the Tabaxi replied, "Was thinking of performing downstairs anyway, a nice warm-up would do me some good."
"Poifekto, my Unicorn-Saber Tabaxi friend! Let the jiggling begin!"
Nemiea smiled and followed the woman's lead, pulling off some rather exhilarating acrobatic feats with her current tango collaborator. It had been some time since she had been able to stretch out in such a way, and she was rather pleased. "Jiggling we shall do!"
With that, the geisha leaped, coupled with her mate, the feline sorceress, onto tables and chairs below, daftly tip-toeing, twirling, and high-kicking their movements into a wonderfully erotic ballet.
The enormity of the parlor was vast enough to continue these sensual shenanigans, indefinitely, as the lute further picked up its beautiful melody. The vocal cords of the comical mage soon belted out, in attempts to join in harmony, but unfortunately did not account for the aquatic current to subdue her falsetto. She giggled nervously, almost contemplating that she might have lost her voice overnight from her late night activities with Askia.
"Props are fun, but I guess I'm a little hoarse."
She laughed a little stronger, as a small pony suddenly appeared, stationary, as they hurled onto the next counter surface, the equine idol becoming faint as they pirouetted through the minor illusion, with gradual deep and low dips for one another. Nemiea was undeniably leading their paired routine, but as the musical world was spinning around them, her eyes caught Askia, next to Cynthia.
Lunging out a hand to slap the kobold, she reared the arm in dramatic fashion. "Get your ass in here!"
Nemiea smiled and grabbed onto both Askia and Cynthia, pulling them into the fray of merriment and twisting bodies as people played and boogied. She wasn't above tugging people into the camaraderie, but she also would not force them if they backed out. "Come on you two, stop being bumps on a log and have some fun!"
The formation of the quartet liberated the joker from any hindrance in preventing her from issuing out her flute. She remembered promptly to throw away the dart, loaded in its chamber, as she would commonly use the pipe as a makeshift blowgun. The overarching tunes synchronized superbly with the trots of the troupe, alongside the evanescent string plucking by their talented Jill.
Forgetting to uphold the farce of Dyn as their leader, she barked a comment that might crack the Beholder's false position.
"Hey Cap'n! Let's go! We're almost at the climax of this jamboree!"
And those words shook Dyn'yer'zhead out of his thoughts. What, now they were demanding him to join in? No, the clown had made a mistake. They had spoken to Jill as the captain. While he knew it to be the truth, he was not going to blow their cover right now, not when he had already hidden her real position for so long. He made a sound that slightly resembled coughing before he floated off his seat and opened his mouth in a song.
From his mouth erupted words of a language few spoke or had ever heard, but the most unbelievable thing was his voice. Far was the gurgling, unnatural and abhorrent tone the Beholder usually exhibited, for now his voice was like the choir of angels had joined together with the band of the most seductive voices of the deepest hells. Though a sudden change in language left him slightly stumbling in the pronunciation of some words, it wasn't like anyone would know. After delivering two verses, he drifted back down, not bothering to trouble himself more than that. Koan should be thankful he let her off the hook without any rays of frost to her rear for bringing this upon him.
While Askia was busy tapping her feet and the likes with the other two girls, some eerie alien noise riled her. The lyrics were unrecognizable, but brilliantly eloquent like honeydew on a pine cone. The kobold did not know what the Beholder meant to accomplish; it was a duo of salvation within damnation. The Kobold had her own plans to outdo the tentacled pirate's peculiar verbiage. Askia opened her maw, in competition, and released her own musical declaration, granted she wasn't classically trained in the arts.
All in all, the celebratory carnival was a marvelous fête to appraise, both annoying the other guests attempts to eat and sleep, but invigorating to all those who took part. Once the boisterous gala completed, the Kor warrior provided laudatory applause to their kinky company.
"Y'all made me so proud." She wiped an imperceptible tear, as foam began to materialize upon her lips. "Singing in this shared shower was a lot of fun. Until you get shampoo in your mouth." She babbled on with the punchline. "Then, I guess, it just becomes a soap opera."
She ran over to Askia and jabbed an elbow into her side.
She bent over, hooting and hollering, haphazardly revealing a portion of her gluteal cleft for viewing.
"I crack myself up sometimes."
Belching a loud yawn, the jester marched into full view, still masqueraded in blanche skin, but slightly scantily clad. "That hit the spot! Ooooh! Everyone's awake." Ogling at Jill beginning to prance and strum her lute, the clown yodeled at the top of her drowned lungs.
"DANCE PARTY!!!! Who's in???"
"Nemiea couldn't help but laugh at the woman's mannerisms, finding it just amusing, shy or crass. "I would never turn down a bit of dancing," the Tabaxi replied, "Was thinking of performing downstairs anyway, a nice warm-up would do me some good."
"Poifekto, my Unicorn-Saber Tabaxi friend! Let the jiggling begin!"
Nemiea smiled and followed the woman's lead, pulling off some rather exhilarating acrobatic feats with her current tango collaborator. It had been some time since she had been able to stretch out in such a way, and she was rather pleased. "Jiggling we shall do!"
With that, the geisha leaped, coupled with her mate, the feline sorceress, onto tables and chairs below, daftly tip-toeing, twirling, and high-kicking their movements into a wonderfully erotic ballet.
The enormity of the parlor was vast enough to continue these sensual shenanigans, indefinitely, as the lute further picked up its beautiful melody. The vocal cords of the comical mage soon belted out, in attempts to join in harmony, but unfortunately did not account for the aquatic current to subdue her falsetto. She giggled nervously, almost contemplating that she might have lost her voice overnight from her late night activities with Askia.
"Props are fun, but I guess I'm a little hoarse."
She laughed a little stronger, as a small pony suddenly appeared, stationary, as they hurled onto the next counter surface, the equine idol becoming faint as they pirouetted through the minor illusion, with gradual deep and low dips for one another. Nemiea was undeniably leading their paired routine, but as the musical world was spinning around them, her eyes caught Askia, next to Cynthia.
Lunging out a hand to slap the kobold, she reared the arm in dramatic fashion. "Get your ass in here!"
THWACK!
Nemiea smiled and grabbed onto both Askia and Cynthia, pulling them into the fray of merriment and twisting bodies as people played and boogied. She wasn't above tugging people into the camaraderie, but she also would not force them if they backed out. "Come on you two, stop being bumps on a log and have some fun!"
The formation of the quartet liberated the joker from any hindrance in preventing her from issuing out her flute. She remembered promptly to throw away the dart, loaded in its chamber, as she would commonly use the pipe as a makeshift blowgun. The overarching tunes synchronized superbly with the trots of the troupe, alongside the evanescent string plucking by their talented Jill.
Forgetting to uphold the farce of Dyn as their leader, she barked a comment that might crack the Beholder's false position.
"Hey Cap'n! Let's go! We're almost at the climax of this jamboree!"
And those words shook Dyn'yer'zhead out of his thoughts. What, now they were demanding him to join in? No, the clown had made a mistake. They had spoken to Jill as the captain. While he knew it to be the truth, he was not going to blow their cover right now, not when he had already hidden her real position for so long. He made a sound that slightly resembled coughing before he floated off his seat and opened his mouth in a song.
From his mouth erupted words of a language few spoke or had ever heard, but the most unbelievable thing was his voice. Far was the gurgling, unnatural and abhorrent tone the Beholder usually exhibited, for now his voice was like the choir of angels had joined together with the band of the most seductive voices of the deepest hells. Though a sudden change in language left him slightly stumbling in the pronunciation of some words, it wasn't like anyone would know. After delivering two verses, he drifted back down, not bothering to trouble himself more than that. Koan should be thankful he let her off the hook without any rays of frost to her rear for bringing this upon him.
While Askia was busy tapping her feet and the likes with the other two girls, some eerie alien noise riled her. The lyrics were unrecognizable, but brilliantly eloquent like honeydew on a pine cone. The kobold did not know what the Beholder meant to accomplish; it was a duo of salvation within damnation. The Kobold had her own plans to outdo the tentacled pirate's peculiar verbiage. Askia opened her maw, in competition, and released her own musical declaration, granted she wasn't classically trained in the arts.
All in all, the celebratory carnival was a marvelous fête to appraise, both annoying the other guests attempts to eat and sleep, but invigorating to all those who took part. Once the boisterous gala completed, the Kor warrior provided laudatory applause to their kinky company.
"Y'all made me so proud." She wiped an imperceptible tear, as foam began to materialize upon her lips. "Singing in this shared shower was a lot of fun. Until you get shampoo in your mouth." She babbled on with the punchline. "Then, I guess, it just becomes a soap opera."
She ran over to Askia and jabbed an elbow into her side.
"GET IT? SOAP. OPERA."
She bent over, hooting and hollering, haphazardly revealing a portion of her gluteal cleft for viewing.
"I crack myself up sometimes."
Your worst enemy, she reflected, remained your frail body’s own nervous system.
At any moment the tension inside was liable to translate itself into some visible symptom. The thought of shadows, pleasantly carrying a haughty presence without interference nor intervention, just several meters away, contorted the left side of the Aasimar’s face ever so slightly. This sort of spasm occurred when hatred quaked, but then settled.
It happened again, as her staff chiseled into the road.
Only a twitch, a quiver, rapid as the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings, but now obviously habitual. She remembered pondering of her former self, that poor devil slaughtered before reaching her promised abode of the afterlife. What was more frightening was this reflex was not only unconscious but incessant. More so, there was no way of guarding against the facial ripple, so far as she could see, as if the muscles of her cheek were cringing from a provoked seizure.
She drew in a subtle breath to calm herself, but the teeth remained on edge, conspiring against her chin to demonstrate themselves to this fallen world. The saliva pooling, begging the quandary of swallowing or spitting. The warlock wasn’t married to either option, hoping the odor of battle would eliminate this villainous distraction, upon more worthy enemies. The stench of war, inextricably mixed up with magic and metal, breached the paroxysm for an invariable confession, as she prepared an orb of radiance in her dominant hand.
“We hold sacred the powers of light and life. Truth and honor are our greatest weapons. However, this apparent opportunity should risk decency. I will lie, awaiting to strike our enemy, once we have reached your vantage, as I neither lack the range nor any quarrel with rectitude.”
@Hekazu@JBRam2002@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Cu Chulainn
At any moment the tension inside was liable to translate itself into some visible symptom. The thought of shadows, pleasantly carrying a haughty presence without interference nor intervention, just several meters away, contorted the left side of the Aasimar’s face ever so slightly. This sort of spasm occurred when hatred quaked, but then settled.
It happened again, as her staff chiseled into the road.
Only a twitch, a quiver, rapid as the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings, but now obviously habitual. She remembered pondering of her former self, that poor devil slaughtered before reaching her promised abode of the afterlife. What was more frightening was this reflex was not only unconscious but incessant. More so, there was no way of guarding against the facial ripple, so far as she could see, as if the muscles of her cheek were cringing from a provoked seizure.
She drew in a subtle breath to calm herself, but the teeth remained on edge, conspiring against her chin to demonstrate themselves to this fallen world. The saliva pooling, begging the quandary of swallowing or spitting. The warlock wasn’t married to either option, hoping the odor of battle would eliminate this villainous distraction, upon more worthy enemies. The stench of war, inextricably mixed up with magic and metal, breached the paroxysm for an invariable confession, as she prepared an orb of radiance in her dominant hand.
“We hold sacred the powers of light and life. Truth and honor are our greatest weapons. However, this apparent opportunity should risk decency. I will lie, awaiting to strike our enemy, once we have reached your vantage, as I neither lack the range nor any quarrel with rectitude.”
@Hekazu@JBRam2002@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Cu Chulainn
A case of mistaken identity.
Bah-bah, the moniker attributed to him by his late fiancée, Marcus, enjoyed the fog surrounding their new found objective, now seemingly decorated with young saps holding farm tools and wooden armor. They all stood, apparently caught awkwardly in the middle of an imaginary game of knights and maidens. The mist combined with his elvish ancestry provided his natural talent to easily utilize the environment to conceal his next action. Such stealth would be taken advantage of, to survey any potential vantage of the strewn out, supposed welcoming committee.
After Angela broke the obdurate silence with pure lips of the most profound salutations, the arcane trickster took it upon himself to depart from the troupe, whose unbeknownst patronage and patronizing courage had brought undesired fame. And with it, less of the opportune capabilities of subterfuge without more elusive swindling. However, he realized that his conversational maneuvers were likely to be wasted on these amateurs, though the bucket-head perforated with more slits than eyes prodded the charlatan almost to the borders of sheer laughter.
This theater of absurd meant these inexperienced proletarians shouldered a stake or claim in this cave, either losing family members or possessions, yearning and appealing to those to venture into its depths and recover who and what was lost. If this was the case, Bah’im was gonna listen in and decipher the motive behind this childish posturing, before venturing its worth and his part in its mission.
To do so, he continued further, without humming a breath, silently steering about, peering into the flanks of the cave to untangle any infiltrative ruse as the dragonborn and his mate began negotiations at the outskirts of this novel marvelous wonder.
@Ermine@JBRam2002@Landaus Five-One
After Angela broke the obdurate silence with pure lips of the most profound salutations, the arcane trickster took it upon himself to depart from the troupe, whose unbeknownst patronage and patronizing courage had brought undesired fame. And with it, less of the opportune capabilities of subterfuge without more elusive swindling. However, he realized that his conversational maneuvers were likely to be wasted on these amateurs, though the bucket-head perforated with more slits than eyes prodded the charlatan almost to the borders of sheer laughter.
This theater of absurd meant these inexperienced proletarians shouldered a stake or claim in this cave, either losing family members or possessions, yearning and appealing to those to venture into its depths and recover who and what was lost. If this was the case, Bah’im was gonna listen in and decipher the motive behind this childish posturing, before venturing its worth and his part in its mission.
To do so, he continued further, without humming a breath, silently steering about, peering into the flanks of the cave to untangle any infiltrative ruse as the dragonborn and his mate began negotiations at the outskirts of this novel marvelous wonder.
@Ermine@JBRam2002@Landaus Five-One
East of Waterdeep
"What causes the Spellplague?"
The Weave, behind all that we hold dear and arcane, was severed when Mystra, the goddess who kept its magical tapestry intact, was assassinated by Shar, through the hands of Cyric. For a decade, a storm of virulent blue flames swept across the face of Toril and into the planes, until it reached the world of Abeir, where it continued its devastation. The Spellplague reshaped entire regions, mutated thousands of people, and even the gods and reality itself were forever altered.
"Who is this Mystra?"
There are 3 that bore that title, but only one abides, but no longer by that name now. She has lived and died and lived again, first once wrestling against the now petrified Karsus, in efforts to cement the Weave against the damage from the raging empires of Netheril and Phaerimm. Mystra reawakened in time to save three of the four floating cities from their catastrophic plummet, but Thultanthar was salvaged into the Plane of Shadow before the Weave suffered penultimate pain.
During the Time of Troubles, she reincarnated herself as a young girl named Caitlin Moonsong, after securing a portion of her power with Midnight, who was slain by Cyric, that your inquiry now seeks. There will be a future that she will return to live and rule again after death, as she has done so thrice.
"Is there a way to stop or prevent the Spellplague?"
You have already tried, my daughters. Almost a century ago. And... You failed. Your minds were not your own, and your bodies have forgotten much of its power.
---
As you continue your interrogation, you sense the silt is up to each of your knees, with a rumbling from below. You note that you will have likely only a couple more questions before it is almost waist high.
@Ms Ravenwinter@corneredbliss
Round 4 – Wrapping up
Invisible Lady
Heeding the words of “Do not Follow,” she moves to engage Cerise, but the alteration of her stance receives a thunderous boom as her reward. Invisibly enraged, she punches the closest potential antagonist with each unarmed fist, dealing 32 damage, but leaving only 20 damage against Thanath due to his Stone’s Endurance.
Ysalain
Halflight has a feeling something is off, and heads over to where the others are heading. He currently has some of his bindings on, but his body and... vitals are still under the cover of the gown.
Heading down, he witnesses a rather bruised-up Thanath. Seeing as the others are too far off to have performed the attack, Halflight had come to assume that there is an invisible assailant in their midst.
"Cease this violence!" Halflight called. "Leave my allies alone, and..." Halflight suddenly rips his gown off.
"... You can have me, instead."
Round 5
Cerise
Cerise cures Thanath for 10 HP, missed with her Spiritual Weapon. Her Corgi will move them in front of the portal, readying an attack.
Uregaunt
Uregaunt's eyes flicker for a moment with life as he comes up with an idea. He throws open his pack and rummages around in it for a moment, desperately searching for something, only for his face to turn pale. He'd have to just try it and hope it'd work. Dramatically, Uregaunt raises an arm towards the invisible woman. "In the name of Kelemvor, you will bend to me so that you may aid my quest!" He shouts, hoping this is enough to demand the creature's will.
After a moment, Uregaunt quietly reaches into his pack and pulls out a potion of healing, drinking it and healing for 5 hp.
The footsteps of the Invis Lady walk towards Uregaunt (as a property of his action) circling Thanath without provoking an AoO.
AdAM 7 and 8
Assassinates Zana the gnome. Shhhh….
Mara and Fern
Beyond the portal. More secrets. Will be revealed in time.
Thanath
Thanath shrugged off the Invisible Woman's attacks like they were nothing before beginning to laugh and radiate with a dim aura that was becoming brighter by the second as he turned to face his attacker. But before Thanath could do anything, his attention was caught by Halflight telling the Invisible woman to leave Thanath be. Thanath turned to tell Halflight that he needed no saving just in time to see the man rip off his gown. The aura surrounding Thanath immediately dissipated upon seeing this. After everything else mention before this post, Thanath began to slowly walk backwards away from the scene and through the portal.
He also does stuff beyond the portal. Ceekwetz!
Zana
Fails First Death Save. Yummy poison.
Invisible Lady
Seemingly waiting for further instruction from her new lord and master: Uregaunt.
Ysalain is up next!
"In case you didn't hear what she just said, there's a group of shadows up there before us. Any plans on how to do this?"
Yes. With pure fury.
The librarian realized her fettered hatred had to be curbed by higher faculties. A stratagem needed to be formulated quickly prior to their vengeful strike upon the gated entrance of the Hall.
And soon.
She swiftly herded words in the form of a whisper, in efforts to devise a blueprint, with furious hopes to undermine their forces.
“We should loose upon them a blazing volley in a cloud of fiery rain, burning the sky itself. Our arrows of light should be fletched with the feather of angels, but bear the wrath of demons.”
Yes. With pure fury.
The librarian realized her fettered hatred had to be curbed by higher faculties. A stratagem needed to be formulated quickly prior to their vengeful strike upon the gated entrance of the Hall.
And soon.
She swiftly herded words in the form of a whisper, in efforts to devise a blueprint, with furious hopes to undermine their forces.
“We should loose upon them a blazing volley in a cloud of fiery rain, burning the sky itself. Our arrows of light should be fletched with the feather of angels, but bear the wrath of demons.”
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