You were called the Gemini of the gods, deemed as such by the brilliant gems in your bodies while being hurled into the Planes by forced experimentation with Blackstaff’s methods of projection and cloning. In essence, you became Astral twins of your Material selves, planar travelers employed to halt the Spellplague.
However, your failure swallowed you up by the brunt of its rude awakening, severing your silvery links to your body, and returning to the dimension from whence you came.
Before she passed, High Lady Alustriel of Silverymoon founded a mutual defense league of the region. Her son Methrammer Aeresume came to head a more diminished company. The dwarves of Adbar, MithraI Hall, and Felbarr parted ways with the others, unwilling to compromise defenses after the Spellplague. They remain powerful allies, though, but no longer reliable.
Silverymoon's famed magical wards of protection faltered with Mystra's death and have not regained their original luster.
With regards to magical advancements, the schools of necromancy, transmutation, conjuration and illusion have prospered. Unifying their breadth in efforts to resurrect and revitalize the time before the Spellplague. Another strident of thought assaults Eve as she ponders about the city nearest by. Waterdeep has suffered since The Year of the Silent Death (1395 DR), when many saw the Putrescent Anathema unleashed from Stump Bog, northeast of the city, to spread sickness and pestilence throughout the region.
The temple-farm of Goldenfields was hit particularly hard by the Plaguebringer's blight. The loss of Waterdeep's primary supply of grain coupled with the swift spread of disease devastated the city's citizenry. Primarily the poor, who died in the thousands.
Torus understood the nature of fear. The misconception of safety, based on the incorrect assumption that money and numbers would accompany the journey alongside the throng that sacked Greenest. Such insecurity was not endorsed; these thoughts of their immediate patrol from the citadel, investigating with backward glances an awkward fire, were not prime upon the sell swords' thoughts.
They honestly believed they had won.
The bear appeared appeased, to those outside his double layered fur, as if struck by a holiday mood in summery weather. This was very far from the truth, as the brown monstrosity was actually judging the distance, between his claws and the cowardice, en masse. The carriage of people had already traversed a great gap, to which he did not want to risk the kobolds potentially gathering wherewithal and stratagems to flank his dashing.
After a few moments of surveying the land, the bronzed omnivore, on all fours, corralled his maw, upside down over their captive, as Kyra, Parum, and Orchid continued their questions. His face hovered above the sniveling prisoner, similar to a toothless great-grandmother over a month-old baby, dangling height and reality like a carrot on a string. Nostrils flared, inhaling the man's putrid sweat effervescing from the dread and panic erupting from overproducing eccrine glands. Each heart beat navigated an erratic rhythm over one-hundred twenty instances in a minute, compared to the auburn beast’s standard forty. In hibernation, the sailor knew that such a patient circadian rhythm can throb a mere eight pulses per sixty seconds, realizing that the natural endurance of this form, even through the twilight of a winter harvests a spring of life and answers.
A crow seemed to plummet quickly from the heavens onto the pirate’s head as the tanned quadruped licked its furry vermillion border, with his lengthy glossal muscle, demonstrating the wide extent of a potential premeditated bite.
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.”
You conjure a small orb of light and release it at a creature within range. Make a ranged spell attack against the target. On a hit, the target takes 1d4 radiant damage. Hit or miss, the globe bursts into energy. The target and each creature within 5 feet of the point where the globe exploded must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or take 2d6 radiant damage. Any creature that suffers this damage also gains vulnerability to radiant damage until the start of your next turn.
The spell attack for the Globe of Light is 17. If it hits, it deals 1d4 radiant damage at 4. The DC for the WIS throw will be 14. If they fail this DC, they will take 2d6 radiant damage at 10.
Spell Slots: Warlock (Level 2): 1/2 First Level used on Hex Full Spell Caster (Level 2): 1/3 First Level used on Expeditious Retreat Globe of Light Limit: 1/1 (used)
Lesser Restoration: 1/Day after finishing a long rest (unused) Arcane Recovery: 1/Day after finishing a short rest (unused) Fey Presence: 1/short rest (unused)
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."
Song of Rest for an additional 4 HP for those who spent Hit Die. A bunch of Performance and Acrobatics rolls were done. See Discord for deets. Koan only used Minor Illusion for the puny pony and the soap, to make it even punnier.
HP: 43/43 AC (15): Cloak of Protection (+1) + DEX Mod (+4) Weapon: None, Rapier is sheathed and Shield is cinched to her back. Arcane Focus: Diamond Tongue Stud Concentrating: Nothing Bardic Inspiration (0/3 used)
Sorcerer Points (1/4 to be used) on Mage Armor, once we leave this shindig
Slots: Warlock First Level (0/2 used) Spell Caster Level = Sorcerer (4) + Bard (3) + Rogue (0) = Seventh Level First Level (0/4 used) Second Level (0/3 used) Third Level (0/3 used) Fourth Level (0/1 used)
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.”
As our enemy is 130-140 feet from Wick at her current position, Wick will cast as a Bonus Action, Expeditious Retreat, in an effort to climb easier and to obtain high ground. Once she is above with Theodore and Katia, Wick will then ready her Globe of Light.
Spell Slots: Warlock (Level 2): 1/2 First Level used on Hex Full Spell Caster (Level 2): 1/3 First Level used on Expeditious Retreat Globe of Light Limit: 0/1 (used)
Lesser Restoration: 1/Day after finishing a long rest (unused) Arcane Recovery: 1/Day after finishing a short rest (unused) Fey Presence: 1/short rest (unused)
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