Hekazu

D&D 5e - High Seas and Tall Tales

How very anticlimactic. He had only just forced the creature to cease and now it already collapsed, its paralysed muscles losing their strength and flopping idly within the water. Bubbles formed in front of Dyn's mouth as he mimicked a snort and looked around himself. The 'detachment' that had wandered into the clutches of the mini-kraken was looking rough around the edges, with the exception of the octopodes that had arrived via druidic magic. Now, in most cases Dyn would not have cared much. They were serviceable and Jill was not among their numbers. But while he most certainly could press on, he felt his power had increased. And to best facilitate that, a brief or perhaps even slightly longer respite would be in order.

Oh, and his daughter was among those who had been on the receiving end of the beatdown. That was a matter he would also have to consider.

He swam to the side of the de jure captain and poked at the lifeless corpse of the creature his magic had held in place just a moment ago. The touch of Tradewind didn't bring up any surprises, so all would be good for now. "Dead it is. Threat is dealt with", he declared and took a look further down the corridor. With nothing visibly crawling, swimming, floating or otherwise approaching them, he turned back around and addressed everyone of the group. "Now, we shall take a moment to recuperate. An exhausted pawn is a useless pawn", he made his call and began making his way back to the room of treasure they had passed a while ago.

As he was passing Adrevz, the merfolk daughter of his took to swimming on his side for a moment and they exchanged a few words. She wanted someone to take a more thorough look at her new bracelet as she had chosen to use it. Dyn himself would have done the deed in a heartbeat if he had the tools for it. After all, there would be no better way of knowing for sure what it was than doing so. But lacking the pearl, that would fall upon the other spellcaster with said ability. And that would leave him with more time to scribe some of the new spells into his spellbook. "Jill, could you spare a moment? This item might need a more thorough look", he requested.

Mechanics&Rolls

HP: 68/68 AC: 16 Concentrating: Nope
Bladesong status: Inactive, 1 use left.
Slots/expended:
4/1 1st
3/1 2nd
3/2 3rd
3/2 4th
2/1 5th
1/0 6th

@JBRam2002@Zverda

Intrique in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

Three decades ago, London was stolen by bats. Dragged deep into the earth by the Echo Bazaar. The sun is gone. All we have is the gas-light of Mr Fires. But Londoners can get used to anything. And it's quiet down here with the devils and the darkness and the mushroom wine. Peaceful.

Or so it would appear at a first glance anyway. It might not exactly be the case, not after that masquerade.

---

Oh hello, it is you! Welcome to the interest check, delicious friend! ...what, you are telling me greeting people in that manner will weird them out rather than draw them in? Maybe you are right. Just know that it is most common of judgemental hats to greet people like that. Not that I was from Polythreme. Or a hat. But I am getting ahead of myself, am I?

So, I am planning to set up an RP set in the Neath, a most interesting locale provided to us by the great Failbetter Games (FBG for short). Their games at the moment include Sunless Seas, Sunless Skies and the eldest, the very Fallen London I am drawing most from, though we may end up leaving the city at some point it will always remain the "home base" so to speak. We'll be back. After all, we couldn't stray too far from the Bazaar. What is the Bazaar, you ask? A good question. Nobody really knows, except perhaps the Masters. We are quite sure it's a sentient thing though.

Whether you know much of the setting beforehand or not is not important here. While experience is always a nice tool to possess, I will be doing my best to give enough information to give anyone the chance to participate! The most important things are as follows: It's victorian era England with gothic and perhaps Lovecraftian undertones. Everything takes place below ground, next to the mighty Unterzee the size of Europe. Surface is deadly. Death here in the Neath is not exactly permanent, though most certainly inconvenient.

What the RP itself will be about, well that is a mystery. No, not that I wouldn't know. But that's for our characters to find out. It all started from a rather intimate masquerade ball, no more than thirty people present. And when it came time for the host to share the reason of the gathering, the sudden appearance of not only Mr. Wines but another cloaked figure just as well would draw everyone's attention. Why would the Masters gather this ragtag bunch together?

So, in case of interest, you know what to do! In case of questions, follow that procedure but leave a question instead of the usual message!

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

Three decades ago, London was stolen by bats. Dragged deep into the earth by the Echo Bazaar. The sun is gone. All we have is the gas-light of Mr Fires. But Londoners can get used to anything. And it's quiet down here with the devils and the darkness and the mushroom wine. Peaceful.

Or so it would appear at a first glance anyway. It might not exactly be the case, not after that masquerade.

---

Oh hello, it is you! Welcome to the interest check, delicious friend! ...what, you are telling me greeting people in that manner will weird them out rather than draw them in? Maybe you are right. Just know that it is most common of judgemental hats to greet people like that. Not that I was from Polythreme. Or a hat. But I am getting ahead of myself, am I?

So, I am planning to set up an RP set in the Neath, a most interesting locale provided to us by the great Failbetter Games (FBG for short). Their games at the moment include Sunless Seas, Sunless Skies and the eldest, the very Fallen London I am drawing most from, though we may end up leaving the city at some point it will always remain the "home base" so to speak. We'll be back. After all, we couldn't stray too far from the Bazaar. What is the Bazaar, you ask? A good question. Nobody really knows, except perhaps the Masters. We are quite sure it's a sentient thing though.

Whether you know much of the setting beforehand or not is not important here. While experience is always a nice tool to possess, I will be doing my best to give enough information to give anyone the chance to participate! The most important things are as follows: It's victorian era England with gothic and perhaps Lovecraftian undertones. Everything takes place below ground, next to the mighty Unterzee the size of Europe. Surface is deadly. Death here in the Neath is not exactly permanent, though most certainly inconvenient.

What the RP itself will be about, well that is a mystery. No, not that I wouldn't know. But that's for our characters to find out. It all started from a rather intimate masquerade ball, no more than thirty people present. And when it came time for the host to share the reason of the gathering, the sudden appearance of not only Mr. Wines but another cloaked figure just as well would draw everyone's attention. Why would the Masters gather this ragtag bunch together?

So, in case of interest, you know what to do! In case of questions, follow that procedure but leave a question instead of the usual message!

Now, I'll just press this "Create Topic" button here before I question my ability to write an interest check once again...

D&D 5e - Titan Hunters

Marcus Lakeltia

---

Before Marcus got his hands on any of the people who had researched the other threat they were facing, he encountered the Duke once again. The invitation to the feast would be well received: Now that he was no longer absorbed in his task, Marcus did feel the pang of hunger in his gut. And if something was for certain, they should not rise against the threat in anything but their full power, something starving oneself would definitely deny from them. The great hall had been prepared with but the most notable of foods of all the cultures, a sight that caused a slight twitch at the corner of the paladin's mouth, briefly revealing one of his more orcish teeth before it was hidden behind his lips once again. With all that had been spent on this, just how many less well off folk could have been fed? But now was not the time to think of such things.

He looked around for a second to see if there would be any servants whose services he could ask for getting him out of his metal shell. After all, it would be horribly disrespectful to sit in the table of a trusted ally covered in several layers of steel, as if expecting a knife to be embedded into his back at any moment. And with the evening approaching apart from this feast and the communion with Tyr himself there was nothing in particular planned, so it would need to happen in any case. And if the gods had foreseen an attack on this very city, surely they would have mentioned such a thing? No, as far as he knew they would ride out tomorrow. A night's rest would take place before that. "Excuse me, Duke Vicente", he said after a second, content at the amount of servants that seemed to be around. He could request the aid of one without causing much of a fuss, "but I would like to request a helping hand in changing to a more reasonable set of clothing. Full plate would be just disrespectful to your hospitality."

To nobody's surprise, the paladin was provided with the helping hand or two he had requested and they would move away as quietly as they could. In but five minutes, the half-orc was already back, now dressed in the vestments of Tyr. Wherever he went, he was a representative of his religion as well as his self. To his luck, nobody had started any speeches while he had been gone so instead of waiting at the door he could simply slip into his seat and see how the situation would develop. He had helped himself to some duck and several side dishes as well as a cup of mild wine when Lonett decided to share their collective findings. Marcus mostly nodded along, not finding much need to interject at any point.

After Kethan had shared his thanks for the insights provided by their research, Marcus raised his right hand before his mouth and let out a gentle cough. He had been ready to speak either way, but now that he was addressed directly there was no doubt who had to be next in line. "Let me begin by addressing the question of my communion with my god. At this moment, that has yet to take place. I had decided to consult the ones heading North just as well, see if there was anything they would like confirmed or denied. With us gathered here, I cannot think of a more ample opportunity to hear out those queries, but naturally I must reserve at least a question to confirm whether Caelmarth is where our band should be heading or not. Though I doubt such insight would prove to be false, being sure of the verdict is the basis of sound judgement." His voice was even, the oration flawless. His history as a public speaker showed, though with the matters being as clear as they were, no false confidence was needed.

On the other hand, he had noted that Lonett was not even nearly as confident as him. He let his gaze diverge into her direction momentarily, but it remained there for but a second. He cut a piece of the duck and held the meat in his fork before his mouth, turning it around for a bit as he thought. "As for circles of teleportation, I cannot say I would have heard of such a rumour. Additional research to the possibility could be considered for the morning, or for those of us who enjoy a nocturnal cycle of life perhaps already after this meal. I do not count myself among those, however. However, as far as I remember, the Seat of Mavros is the closest settlement to said ruin. If I am not wrong in that, anything we find would have a very real chance of serving as a den of monsters these days, or worse yet, broken." A grim outlook, but the most realistic from his point of view. He placed the fork into his mouth and began chewing on the meat.

Now, who would be the next in turn to speak? Those gathered here were much fewer than he had suspected. The absence of the former Duchess was not as much of a surprise to him, the nobility had things to do, but the other heroes of the realm being missing piqued his interest. There should be nothing that would hold them from arriving. Perhaps they were still on their way? That would mean a reiteration of the conversation later, but that he could easily deal with. Surely nobody had been foolish enough to consider desertion!

D&D 5e - High Seas and Tall Tales

The recent developments had been... interesting. Dyn had expected them, there was no doubt about that. After all, he had deliberately avoided getting grappled by moving back a bit. What he had not expected was that nearly everyone else would be dumb enough to rush forward into the creature's waiting tentacles. For all that it was worth, this thing was no real kraken. Much too small. A spawn at best, though that meant they would not need to bring an entire fleet of pirates to do battle with it either. There was no need for a hasty retreat. After all, how could the perfect being be seen running from a stunted marine creature?

The crystal decorated eyepatch Dyn'yer'zhead used as his arcane focus glimmered once more as his magic began flowing through it. The Beholder's sonorous voice that always accompanied it speaking in its own native language rang out in the water as he ordered the opposing monstrosity to cease all movement. The magical energy shot off from his focus and embedded itself to the deepest reaches of the creature, flashing out along its surface and freezing every muscle of the would-be kraken. The Beholder grinned. That should tip the scales.

Mechanics&Rolls

Dyn retains his position on the map and casts Hold Monster against the betentacled opponent who fails(!) its save.

HP: 62/62 AC: 16 Concentrating: Hold Monster on the supposed Kraken.
Bladesong status: Inactive, 1 use left.
Slots/expended:
4/1 1st
3/1 2nd
3/2 3rd
3/2 4th
2/1 5th

@Guardian Angel Haruki - BEHOLD MY POWER and use it to your advantage, please and thank you.
@JBRam2002

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

For those I have yet to inform of the subject, I have been contacted by one of our earlier companions about potentially rejoining. I decided to let them have the second chance on the grounds of it being okay with the people that had expressed the most concerns about our pace earlier and with their 'okay', we shall welcome @Norschtalen and Kyra Shepard back into the band of adventurers!

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Davis nodded a few times, turning briefly to look at the sky above them. "Can you imagine? The Queen of Dragons herself, soaring on the very skies above us? Oh how long we have awaited to see her glory!" It was rather likely that this man had been indoctrinated to the cult from a young age, with how childlike the adoration in his eyes was, how he could not see anything that could possibly go wrong with the very embodiment of the worst of every chromatic dragon returning to the world. Yet his claim of being new here did not sound wrong. How one should piece that together was an interesting question. Could one become this devoted to a cause in just a few months?

In any case, the question Parum asked from his regarding accommodation brought him back to the surface and he began thinking about it. Or at least he tried hard to look like he was thinking. He clearly knew of something, but he was trying to keep it to himself for a moment, until his expression actually began to shift, as if he was considering between options. "Hold on just a second, I need a moment to consider...", he asked after a moment, continuing to twist his face in most imaginative exaggerations of an expression signifying thinking. In the end, he finally answered: "Ah, no, the superiors would never allow that. In the end, your best bet is to do what the other mercs do: Set up camp nearby or in one of the little dwellings there are on the edges of the camp here. See, like that there in the natural wall", he explained, craning his head towards what he would have pointed at had he had free hands.

As for Orchid, Brannor and Torus who had now more or less met up, the former two had the chance to note the sudden disappearance of the pipe smoking cut-throat. Wherever they had slipped off to they had missed, but for now, he was nowhere to be seen. The few people on some excuse of a guard duty around the horses and the occasional other animal were not really paying much attention at first, but as Orchid moved to talk with his druid friend, one of them set their hand of cards down and approached the lot more formally: "We haven't heard of any prisoners being sent to work here. Very little work to be done right now. Are you sure this is your stop?" It was a fair question, if what this man with a patchy beard and a rather impressive amount of grime on his trousers was saying was true.

@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Gordian Nought

Mechanics

Torus's desire for short rest has been noted. Will assume seeking one continues unless actions on the contradictory are planned. This includes but is not limited to spellcasting.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Pardon me for pushing against the limit this time, but tomorrow should be the day of a new post. I've been adjusting my sleep schedule and that has made replying more difficult at times. I'm getting the hang of it though, so with the adjustment period down, that should not happen again.

The legendary spokesman of Ragnarov Fleet, Forever

𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯

Name: His original name long since abandoned and forgotten, he simply goes by the letters branded on his chest. According to him, they spell the name he currently uses, Forever.
Title: The (Ragnarov Fleet Legislative Council) Spokesman

Influence: 5 - Global. Not only does Forever possess enough magical aptitude to fight off most of his opponents, he also is in the lead of the council, technically speaking. He cannot vote for himself, but all decisions are put to fruition through him.

Group: The Ragnarov Fleet

Description:

• Height: Approximately 237cm
• Weight: Depends on the amount of sand on him, fluctuating from ~240kg to ~280kg
• Age: Unknown
• Race/Species: Demisphinx (Bipedal sphinx with a more bestial appearance)

Forever's appearance would at first hint one towards a feral creature. The slightest coat of fur covers his dark brown skin, his face is dog like with its muzzle and teeth, a luxurious golden lion-like mane flowing from the base of it in all directions. This mane also releases sand into his environment when the hairs rub against each other, as long as the sand does not get stuck within the mane itself that is. Which it often does. His body is wide as a barn door, packed with muscle. At the ends of his arms are hands that sport four fingers topped with sharply curved claws made for rending flesh, lacking a thumb. His feet have four toes just as well, with similarly unretractable claws. The shape of them is peculiar from the more common sphinx: Instead of paw like, these appear as if somebody took human feet and prolonged them. He is often seen wearing slippers and a half-toga that does not cover his upper body, leaving the source of his name visible the times his mane is not in the way. Across his wide chest, seven letters are branded in difficult to recognise script, spelling out the word "𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯".

As for his personality, Forever is most commonly seen "wearing a mask", acting as something that he is not. The spokesman that sits behind the table is not the man one would meet when calling upon him on a private call or meeting him in his quarters for whatever reason. At work, forever does his best to keep his aggressive and, frankly, quite manipulative side down, to do what the man who sits in the spokesman's chair is supposed to do. Due to the respect the council holds for the spokesman, he has yet to fail this restraining of his self. On his 'free time' he lives quite a secluded life, caring mostly about furthering the power of the Fleet. The spokesman works himself to the bone to realise the goal that originally sent him to the fleet. To know power, conquer and rule.

Abilities, Talents, Traits, Powers: Unlike most in the fleet, Forever is a user of traditional magic. This causes some problems with the machinery, but nothing they could not manage.

• ^{( 3 )} Supernatural body -- Forever is much stronger and somewhat tougher than your average human.
• ^{( 4 )} Sand generation -- Forever's mane is capable of generating magical sand out of nowhere, to the degree of the production never shutting off. At full capacity, he could coat a hallway with a thin layer with just a shake of his head, but on the usual resting capability, one should be able to follow him based on the trail of sand grains. The sand itself, while magically created, is just that. Sand.
• ^{( 5 )} Sand manipulation -- And this is where it gets dirty. Forever is capable of commanding sand, both naturally occurring and that falling off of his mane. From building structures to creating weapons of it, he can compress the material to be hard as steel as long as it is in contact with him, directly or other particles he has influence over. This control wanes over distance and even in a grand desert if one maintains a safety gap of one hundred kilometres, Forever should be unable to harm one with this ability.
• ^{( 5 )} The prison of the exile -- The final trick Forever has up his sleeve. If an opponent proves to be too manoeuvrable to be claimed victory over, Forever may trap himself and every living creature within thirty metres into an alternative reality, consisting of a barren sandy desert that extends fifty kilometres in every direction from the point they arrive in, ending in a barrier limit to prevent people and the sand falling into the void beyond. There is naught but sand, scorching sun, Forever and those brought with him here. The plane ceases existing once Forever is content with the results or incapacitated, but the drawback is heavy. The spokesman will lose access to all of his abilities but the sand generation, which will still operate on a minimal level. Last time this occurred, he was blocked off for a decade.

Items: Nothing especially noteworthy, barring his perfectly ordinary clothes. The Fleet armoury is in his disposal if he feels like it, but with how technological everything there is, they are too prone to break for his tastes.

Background: Much like what would be expected of someone of the Demisphinxes, Forever originates from the lands of Egytania (see Shilukki for the earlier appearance of said realm). Back in those days he carried a different name, but after the exile by the Sphinx council for reasons he can no longer remember that one lost its purpose. There was no use to carry the name that only held the bitter regret of the past. Instead, he chose the word branded onto his chest, the duration of his punishment to be what he would be known as from now on. For in the end, it would not be his punishment, but the length of his rule over the fearful. That was how he envisioned it.

He spent centuries locked away within stone, far from his home, delivered there via the magic of those whose art was more refined than his. In there, he had nothing but time to think. To plan. And when a mysterious grey mass that would turn out to be a nanobot swarm from the Harvester finally dug him out, he squinted his eyes and climbed out, avoiding being devoured thanks to his magical nature alone. And so he met up with Ragnarov Fleet.

It took him a fair amount of time, but with somebody of his wit and sheer power, it did not take long from the new people to recognise him as a worthy leader and elect him their leader. Or so he had thought anyway. As it turns out, the spokesman does not carry the power, but uses the power. Close enough, he bitterly accepted. Yet every victory of the Fleet was a victory for him, every resource collected one that would strengthen the troops that followed his and the council's word. He would begin his dominion here, and one day when they would return to the place he once called home, now but a distant memory... that day, the inferior council would see just what they had unleashed upon the world.

D&D 5e - High Seas and Tall Tales

Everyone. Just. Had. To. Stand. In. The. Way. Dyn'yer'zhead grit his teeth together and his tentacles clutched the magical cutlass with redoubled intensity. If it need happen, he would weave between his allies to find the spot from which he could act. At least, if nothing else, they had managed to fell one of the opposing guardians, leaving him with less targets to fit in his crosshairs. And so the Beholder rushed into movement, passing Jill by her right side and squeezing into the thick of things between the suspicious 'Sauron' and his now more familiar looking daughter. At the spot where the metal pieces of the felled opponent still float idly, his eyepatch began shining once more.

This time, it was not his teeth that would spark, but many of his eyes joined the patch's glow, the energy gathering brilliant white in its intensity. He called upon his magic and magic answered, the bolt of electricity striking against the wall of the hallway beyond the corner. On its way, it scorched the pile of metal with all it could, while the Kraken was marginally luckier with its tentacles avoiding the worst. Yet a few of them still ended up fried and chopped bits of it were left behind, floating lazily in the water. Dyn wasn't one to stay behind though, for he was not currently under the influence of his defensive magic. It was for the best to retreat a bit to the direction he had originally come from. The Kraken disagreed with this decision and in one jerking motion snapped its beak at the Beholder, scraping wounds onto his surface.

Mechanics&Rolls

Dyn uses 35 feet of his swimming speed to enter the space formerly occupied by the deceased Gearforged and casts Lightning Bolt so that the AoE includes the still living Gearforged as well as the Kraken. The Kraken makes their save and takes 13 damage, the Gearforged is less fortunate and faces the full extent of the mediocre 26 lightning damage. Neither dies. He will then retreat ten feet to the straight to the North-East. This prompts an opportunity attack that harms his magnificence for 14 damage.

HP: 47/62 AC: 16 Concentrating: No.
Bladesong status: Inactive, 1 use left.
Slots/expended:
4/1 1st
3/1 2nd
3/2 3rd
3/2 4th
2/0 5th

@Guardian Angel Haruki - Go forth!
@JBRam2002