Gordian Nought

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The visualization of not only Ruron, but her master’s gem, lashed out across her mind’s temperament, catching the brunt of her anger with a harsh, nearly bestial growl of displeasure as the treacherous prodigy evaporated from the shadowy skirmish. The irony was not lost upon the ancient cleric, for everything the wunderkind was brilliant at, in every execution and performance, teamwork was where the boy historically stood at a standstill and refused to participate. Partially because no one could easily mimic and match his precocious, flawless tendencies. His now directed slander to the gnome’s ignorance portrayed an overall cruelty Wick never had witnessed, demonstrating how nefarious and astute his demons were.

Why would he use them, and to what beneficial desire, just to throw them away just as carelessly without a flicker or shadow of remorseful reflection?

Abruptly, slaughter came forward and almost overtook Cesar and then Wick by the hands of the verdant, angered admiral. The warlock’s brows quaked, in attempts to restrain and redirect the Green Man’s fury against their common foe.

“Defilers?” An offering of peace slithered from her lips in a candied bite, as the dark tendrils hugged her armor, tighter, without abandon. “We are not your enemies.”

She gestured to the obsidian threads of dusk and damnation, now surrounding them.

“They are!”

Mechanics

Wick will leave her unseen servant, stationary wherever that may, to which in the future can still be manipulated via Bonus Action.

Wick will invoke Fey Presence to Charm (Spell Save DC is 14) the Green Man and Persuade him to fight the Shadows and not the Wardens of Light (5 without Advantage; 18 with Advantage).

Wick

HP: 22/22
Temp HP: 6
AC: 17 (Breast Plate (14) + DEX Mod (1) + Shield (2))
Weapon: quarterstaff in dominant hand, others (sheathed)

Arcane Focus: Fleece Necklace
Concentration: Nothing

Spell Slots:
Warlock (Level 2): 0/2 First Level
Full Spell Caster (Level 2): 0/3 First Level
Globe of Light Limit: 0/1 (unused)

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

Lesser Restoration: 1/Day after finishing a long rest (unused)
Arcane Recovery: 1/Day after finishing a short rest (used)
Fey Presence: 1/short rest (used)

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Whether this is a trap or whether he can trust him?

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

May Torus roll Inaight?

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

"Sort of like the entirety of you..."

Was this a joke, a faux-pas, a jest indisputably to salve a sagacity of vengeance against the sins she committed? Or an outrageous debauchery, a slandered dalliance, or a gaping spiritual wound she dehisced to bleed before the once lost, but now found Ruron? Were the Gods arranging a penance to impose upon her fortified will of forgetfulness?

The cleric was surprised by the attempt of the tomb to bewilder her and the warped subconscious buried beneath the tendrils of shadows, under her bloodied breastplate and within the coffin of her heart.

But this could not be a mere illusion, as the conversational hallucination seemingly interacted with all.

Wick proffered a jeer of her lip, an uncharacteristic cocked hip, and a soft clack of mental departure; for there was no way in this world’s seven abysses, where she was going to simply subjugate herself to this prodigy’s defiant smugness.

With her golden locks, a carefully and intensely disarrayed style of long tresses spilled around her thin shoulders, for the first time again in a long time. Her joyful eyes a dark and swirling mess of carved pumpkins, enjoying the very presence of the man of careful grooming, gleaming a rioted perfection, to the expense of his tunic, to the cherry of his lips, down to the fabricated style of the scimitar. He even walked with a show of grace, his saunter a rolling expedience whilst appearing crude in the brisk exiting from the central cue.

The warlock didn’t make it far though, as floundering words drowned her confused posture.

“About time? Reason you’re here?? Light in the Darkness??? Entirety????” Her vernacular sunk deeper into a grotesque mark, delivering the abrasive message, as she bore emotions of betrayal and duplicity.

“Where the hell have you been? And... Who the devil is he?”

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The reincarnated sage steeped further into the hall, brewing over the monster slayer’s nystagmus, which darted, from corner to wall to shrine, over concealed apparitions. Before Theodore reached the egress, the cleric stopped his exodus.

“Halt. Let it go first.”

The avian-clad butler in the elbow of the room jarred from its statuesque hibernation; its syncytial gaze riddled with the radiance of oblivion, an Egyptian herald for the young accountants of light, of a prophecy of ten plagues yielding a briefer lifespan. The objective was simply reconnaissance, methodical and meticulous, to demolish the curious resolve of knights in order to checkmate any larcenous king cradled in this fleeced tomb. The unseen pawn entitled itself to a job security by willingly suffering any potential pyramid of pain, even to the extent of sacrificing to the very danger being sought.

Slothfully unraveling its magical position with sluggish footsteps to the Stygian exit, the invisible mute was commanded to test the darkness beyond. The excitement built within Wick, as the ranger remained still as the servant began to peer further ahead, with eyes of a Horus.

Would a rapacious nova tumble this tax collector downward into a Nekhen of its own imaginary blood?

Opening the portal, its contorted carcass suspended momentarily, slouching any attention drawn to the Memnon shadows looming over the murky unknown, distracted by the gazelles of the coming, exhaustive void.

Effects

The unseen servant is commanded to go past the door and into the darkness, before Theodore plunges in.

D&D 5e - High Seas and Tall Tales

The nuptial minute crayoned a joyous stencil of madness on the clown as her devilish eyes endorsed her partner’s shrill, the whistle which beckoned the annulment of banishment and brought forth their missing pets. Noriam’s foreplay swam subtly in the gray geisha’s mind, dancing to and fro, whether to bite or play dead, with such coddles. The departed rebuttal was a thunderous motif of hard-to-get, enticing the shadowmancer. To…

“Catch me if you can.”

The moons of her sclera waned, lingering against the desires to wither hither, but venture thither against the recently summoned beast. Quickly, dreaming away the compounded darkness, her open maw disclosed only a hidden fool, bending the heavens of dark waters while registering the solemnity of battle. The unsheathed rapier, that spilt a king’s blood and liberated a thrall, rang true and through, piercing the Cerberus, as their captain and the precocious Mystic were whelmed in dusk, stemming from the mouth of the warlock’s babe; its revenue swamped in the eventide of bashfulness, tempting the sweet faux Sauron to still choose her from the three.

Mechanics

Koan will Dash 60 feet (Tumbling Fool as a Bonus Action) to directly south one square from Jill, but still within striking distance of Cerberus C. Free Action to keep her mouth open to continue the Darkness which engulfs Jill completely and partly Askia and Cerberus C.

Booming Blade against Cerberus C only for 7 damage, but it is now rife with another potential 2d8 thunder damage if it willingly moves before Koan's next turn.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Cyanwrath.

The burden of battle did not relinquish any hindrance or injury to the draconic knight as he bellowed into an adjacent tent, not diagnosing that yester eve’s skirmish desired a potential rematch. If he saw any of them, the scam would be deciphered and all would congregate in chains alongside Brannor. However, the sailor appreciated that wile hoax still persisted, all to gain ground, inching closer to the mouth of hive.

The hoard amassed for the horde.

Torus agreed to the befitting moniker. “Yes. I am Torag.” His briny eyes peered into the gaze of Rebrer. "Parum, I am curious if the glory we have been scavenging for Tiamat holds true for any nearby food. This wineskin of a stomach needs refilling. Care to oblige, sir?” The question aimed its poison at the cloaked messenger.

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The warlock grinned, permitting her auburn eyes to fill the white voids on either side of her witching nose. Before satisfying the monster slayer with a response, a mirage of organized slabs and fire pits began to forge, behind her, as a floating semblance of things to come. The ocular sclera again wavered back and forth, between bearing irises of ginger and hosting an avalanche riddled with tiny streams of blood. Without looking, the librarian slowly widdled the imperfections from the figment, even demonstrating the demolished ceramics and strewn weapons and armor.

“A door swivels as the only outstanding culprit.”

The shared hallucination slowly evoked a cracked portal, with a fantastical façade of luminosity, faux rays impregnated into the visual deception.

“Traffic, Theodore, at your discretion, against the solemn synod thither, where misdeeds have faltered against decrees, abandoning souls from our eventual communion.” The enmity and discord, within her trailing voice, softened the pity. The lack of threat was not intentional, but simply imperceptible to Wick. “My woes have ended with the evening sun of our yester realm. This world may now witness my exhalation of griefs unspeakable, wrought by necessity and not by vile offense.” The shroud of murky tendrils clothed her ever more tightly with its hungry protection as she endorsed the hovering vision. “The tragic instance of this body’s sequel will not be wasted on incessant weeping nor sink in a sky of wished light.”

Her hand ascended and descended like a gavel, condemning and dismissing the minor of illusions. “No longer lend ears to my severed bliss. We must move on and mold our misfortunes into tales of redeemed calamities.”

She made way, following, blindly, her unseen servant.

“Divorcing not foresight from prudence.”

Effects

Wick casts Minor Illusion to depict the Hall for everyone to visualize. Afterwards, she dismisses it and moves onward, suggesting others to do the same.

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

“Those who flaunt in shadows within cavernous steeples would do well to remember the dawn’s virgin stare.” Her scepter of insight began to glow with a brilliant exodus of radiance, hoping to illuminate the dual lanes, apparently less traveled, before the wielder of Hela. “The path to verity seems to have many branches. Do these routes hold a dark toll, Valmjr?” The cleric sensed the dismay splintered by the query. She offered another inquisitive suggestion. “These trails breathe broad and heavy air. Must we each suffer a tomb on the road to the next life?”

Wick’s ambitious aim opposed not the monarchy of the hero of Ysgard in this lair, but she was wary of the potential impious war that the wardens of light may have to attempt again in vain. She knew the reckless abandon of entering headlong mandated a choice, delving deeper into hideous ruin and vanquished combustion. Her grimace, betwixt of obdurate pride and steadfast patience, tormented the baleful eyes of the gnome.

Hoisting a piece of string and the ashen staff, murmurs whispered an unspoken conjuration. The reborn sage shared one of her sling’s bullets, seemingly cupped by a shapeless anthropomorphic force. Soon, the familiar snowy eagle materialized upon an imaginary shoulder as more luminosity spilled into their vicinity. The smirk flattened and steered away from Birbin, tracing her pupils from his pointy hat, onto her amorphous creation.

“Let keen eyes and unseen hands carve the way ahead.”

Mechanics

Wick will cast Unseen Servant and summon her Familiar to posture upon its right shoulder. She will send this invisible courier, carrying a bullet that bears Light, to the left path. Wick will close her eyes and utilize the eagle's eyes to glean the dangers ahead, readying to poof the eagle out of existence (Find Familiar feature), if ambushed.

Initiative - 10.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Speaking primarily out of instinct and not from instruction, the verdant half-blood provided an explanation to the queries in disconcerting speech, only to be rescued by the Hin, who swelled a hidden ruse, seemingly only to bare to the gods looking down curiously from the heavens. The old man sensed that they were in the deepest tract of Hell, courtesy of the foreordained ruse fabricated by the cerulean adorned Halfling. This mission originated out of the necessitated mandate to strike against Tiamat and her horde. To avenge a village and prevent devastation upon other Greenests to come.

As Parum further concocted the tale afore the interrogators, the sailor chose the blissful restraint of silence, in hopes to seduce any future foul revolt and allow further infiltration into this ambitious hive. His tongue, though, often delighted in spouting cryptography at opportune times, an infernal serpent, whose muscular guile frequently stirred up envy and revenge under Xaron’s unruly authority. She was once the mother of his mankind, priding and casting him from his cerebral haven, for over half a century. His mind, now no longer dethroned, mounted against other rebellious angels whom opted to sway it from its rightful monarchy.

The whispers of an impious war straddled the druid’s quivering fingers, which quickly sought solace in strumming the beard below his pursed lips. His skin cackled of a bottomless perdition, aged with a hideous ruin and combustion dwelling within penal wrinkles and chained weakness. The sailor’s briny hide contrasted against a navy robe below a Minotaur pelt, partnered with the gnome skull of Yorick and other scavenged belongings.

He stood still.

With a demeanor reserved in a slumped stance, as his eyes measured and darted the space between the mortal men and women who would judge the immediate fate of Brannor and his company.