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STATUS: Back from romantic getaway! Working on replies! 7 mos agoStatus
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7 mos ago
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Back from romantic getaway! Working on replies!
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7 mos ago
Romantic weekend with boyfriend, no replies. Sorry friends
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Conversation came so naturally to Lady Agnes. I had been trained to be polite and charming. To speak softly and choose my words carefully. But you could tell I was making an effort. With her, it was just part of who she was. I almost got distracted by the sound of her voice alone.
But we had found what Flurry was staring at. An ice sculpture. It stood there glittering in the sunlight.
"Perhaps we might examine it more closely," I said. "And afterwards, we could join the others at the buffet? Perhaps procure some refreshments?"
I barely waited for her to reply. I called to Flurry. "Come."
I moved through the crowd toward the ice sculpture. As we got closer, I studied it more carefully. The way the light caught in its surface. The craftsmanship of its carved details. I wondered if there was something arcane about it. Something magical that had drawn Flurry's attention. Or if it was just another one of his random fascinations.
But we had found what Flurry was staring at. An ice sculpture. It stood there glittering in the sunlight.
"Perhaps we might examine it more closely," I said. "And afterwards, we could join the others at the buffet? Perhaps procure some refreshments?"
I barely waited for her to reply. I called to Flurry. "Come."
I moved through the crowd toward the ice sculpture. As we got closer, I studied it more carefully. The way the light caught in its surface. The craftsmanship of its carved details. I wondered if there was something arcane about it. Something magical that had drawn Flurry's attention. Or if it was just another one of his random fascinations.
I was shaking. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to charge forward, to fight, to do something. My draconic hand clenched so hard I could feel my nails digging into my palm even through the scales.
Then Meli's hand touched my shoulder. Magic flowed through me, calming, steadying. It helped, but barely.
I watched the bandits spread out to search. Ten of them stayed by the carts, guarding the Moonpetal. I could see faces I recognized through the bars. People who'd been kind to me my whole life. People who'd stood with us when the soldiers came.
And I couldn't do anything.
My breath came hard and fast. I almost lunged forward anyway. Almost threw myself at them despite the odds. But Meli's whisper stopped me.
"I don't think we can save them right now. I hate saying this, but I think we need to retreat..."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to scream that we couldn't just leave them. But she was right. We were two people against dozens. If we attacked now, we'd just end up in those cages too. Or dead.
I forced myself to breathe. Forced the rage down into something I could control.
"Okay," I whispered back, my voice rough. "We go back to the orchard. Check on Elena, Garrick, and Isolde. Figure out what to do from there."
But even as I said it, I kept my eyes on those carts. On the Moonpetal trapped inside.
Then Meli's hand touched my shoulder. Magic flowed through me, calming, steadying. It helped, but barely.
I watched the bandits spread out to search. Ten of them stayed by the carts, guarding the Moonpetal. I could see faces I recognized through the bars. People who'd been kind to me my whole life. People who'd stood with us when the soldiers came.
And I couldn't do anything.
My breath came hard and fast. I almost lunged forward anyway. Almost threw myself at them despite the odds. But Meli's whisper stopped me.
"I don't think we can save them right now. I hate saying this, but I think we need to retreat..."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to scream that we couldn't just leave them. But she was right. We were two people against dozens. If we attacked now, we'd just end up in those cages too. Or dead.
I forced myself to breathe. Forced the rage down into something I could control.
"Okay," I whispered back, my voice rough. "We go back to the orchard. Check on Elena, Garrick, and Isolde. Figure out what to do from there."
But even as I said it, I kept my eyes on those carts. On the Moonpetal trapped inside.
Blibdoolpoolp stops hitting himself. His head snaps up. His eyes fix on the crab.
"The crab..." he whispers. "The crab of wisdom..."
He begins to crawl forward. Not toward you. Toward the crab. His movements are desperate. Reverent. Water splashes around him as he moves.
When he reaches the crab, he prostrates himself before it. His forehead touches the stone. His whole body shakes.
"Oh great crab!" he sobs. "Oh wise and blessed creature! Teach me! Teach this foolish fish-thing to see as you see! To know as you know! Grant me even a fraction of your wisdom so that I might better serve our god!"
The crab, to its credit, does not move. It simply stands there. Claws raised slightly. As if considering the high priest's plea.
After a long moment, Blibdoolpoolp raises his head. Tears stream from his bulging eyes. Or perhaps it is just water. It is hard to tell.
He turns to look at you. His expression is desperate. Pleading.
"Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," he croaks. His voice is raw. "What... what should we do with the eggs? Should we destroy them? Should we move them? Should we guard them? Please... tell your servants what must be done."
Nyphl drifts closer to you. You feel a pulse of something through your connection. Not quite concern. Not quite amusement. Something in between.
The eggs sit in their cluster. Glowing softly. Innocent. For now.
What do you say or do?
"The crab..." he whispers. "The crab of wisdom..."
He begins to crawl forward. Not toward you. Toward the crab. His movements are desperate. Reverent. Water splashes around him as he moves.
When he reaches the crab, he prostrates himself before it. His forehead touches the stone. His whole body shakes.
"Oh great crab!" he sobs. "Oh wise and blessed creature! Teach me! Teach this foolish fish-thing to see as you see! To know as you know! Grant me even a fraction of your wisdom so that I might better serve our god!"
The crab, to its credit, does not move. It simply stands there. Claws raised slightly. As if considering the high priest's plea.
After a long moment, Blibdoolpoolp raises his head. Tears stream from his bulging eyes. Or perhaps it is just water. It is hard to tell.
He turns to look at you. His expression is desperate. Pleading.
"Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," he croaks. His voice is raw. "What... what should we do with the eggs? Should we destroy them? Should we move them? Should we guard them? Please... tell your servants what must be done."
Nyphl drifts closer to you. You feel a pulse of something through your connection. Not quite concern. Not quite amusement. Something in between.
The eggs sit in their cluster. Glowing softly. Innocent. For now.
What do you say or do?
Give me a performance, persuasion or intimidation check with advantage
Can you give me a persuasion or intimidation check?
roleplayerguild.com/rolls/29640 Natural 20 for a total of 21
"Of course, Lady Agnes," I said. "I would be most pleased to have your company."
I glanced down at Flurry. He still stood rigid. His empty eye sockets fixed on something in the distance. He hadn't moved since I first noticed him staring. The behavior was starting to wear on me.
"Though I must confess something has been bothering me," I said. I gestured toward my undead companion. "Flurry has been staring at something for quite some time now. I can't seem to figure out what's caught his attention."
I looked out across the crowded lawn. I tried to follow his line of sight. But there were too many people. Too many colorful banners and floating lanterns. Too much movement everywhere.
"Would you mind helping me look?" I asked. "Perhaps you might spot what I'm missing."
I glanced down at Flurry. He still stood rigid. His empty eye sockets fixed on something in the distance. He hadn't moved since I first noticed him staring. The behavior was starting to wear on me.
"Though I must confess something has been bothering me," I said. I gestured toward my undead companion. "Flurry has been staring at something for quite some time now. I can't seem to figure out what's caught his attention."
I looked out across the crowded lawn. I tried to follow his line of sight. But there were too many people. Too many colorful banners and floating lanterns. Too much movement everywhere.
"Would you mind helping me look?" I asked. "Perhaps you might spot what I'm missing."
You move closer. The water is shallow here. It barely covers the tops of your feet. You kneel down near the closest orb. Careful not to touch it. Careful to stay away from the stalactites hanging overhead.
Up close, the glow is different than you expected. It is not the sharp, clean light of magic. It is softer. More organic. Natural.
You lean in. Examine the surface more carefully.
There. Just beneath the crystalline shell. Tiny lines. Thread-thin. They branch and split like the veins in a leaf. Like blood vessels. They are so faint that you can barely see them. But they are there. Growing. Spreading slowly through the orb from some central point inside.
Your breath catches.
These are not stones.
These are not crystals.
These are eggs.
You study them more carefully now. The pattern of those tiny vessels. The thickness of the shell. The faint blue-green color that shifts beneath the surface. You have seen eggs like these before. Not often. But once was enough.
Your mistresses kept creatures in their menagerie. Dangerous creatures. Useful creatures. Guard beasts that could see in darkness and strike without warning. Gloom-Croakers, they were called. Massive toad-like aberrations with skin that seemed to drink in light. With tongues that could wrap around a full-grown drow and crush the life from them.
These are Gloom-Croaker eggs.
The knowledge settles in your mind like a stone dropping into still water.
The vascularization is so faint because these eggs are fresh. Newly laid. Perhaps only days old. Maybe a week at most. The mother would have laid them here in the shallow water where the temperature stays constant. Where predators rarely venture.
And the mother would return.
Gloom-Croakers are solitary creatures. They hunt alone. They live alone. But when it is time for their eggs to hatch, they come back. They always come back. Some instinct. Some biological clock that ticks inside them. They guard their young through the first dangerous days after hatching.
You count the eggs. Fourteen. Perhaps fifteen. All from one mother. A full clutch.
And the tadpoles...
You have never seen Gloom-Croaker tadpoles yourself. But you have heard stories from the beast-keepers. The tadpoles are worse than the adults in some ways. They are aggressive from the moment they break free of their shells. They attack anything that moves. Anything warm. Anything alive. They are nearly impossible to train until they mature. Even your mistresses, with all their skill and magic, lost slaves trying to domesticate the young ones.
The crab beside you makes a small clicking sound. Nyphl's glow dims further.
Blibdoolpoolp stands at the entrance to the cavern. Waiting. Patient. His bulging eyes fixed on you.
"What does the Great SHOOGBIMBHALD see?" the high priest asks. "What wisdom do the stones reveal?"
---
What do you say or do?
Up close, the glow is different than you expected. It is not the sharp, clean light of magic. It is softer. More organic. Natural.
You lean in. Examine the surface more carefully.
There. Just beneath the crystalline shell. Tiny lines. Thread-thin. They branch and split like the veins in a leaf. Like blood vessels. They are so faint that you can barely see them. But they are there. Growing. Spreading slowly through the orb from some central point inside.
Your breath catches.
These are not stones.
These are not crystals.
These are eggs.
You study them more carefully now. The pattern of those tiny vessels. The thickness of the shell. The faint blue-green color that shifts beneath the surface. You have seen eggs like these before. Not often. But once was enough.
Your mistresses kept creatures in their menagerie. Dangerous creatures. Useful creatures. Guard beasts that could see in darkness and strike without warning. Gloom-Croakers, they were called. Massive toad-like aberrations with skin that seemed to drink in light. With tongues that could wrap around a full-grown drow and crush the life from them.
These are Gloom-Croaker eggs.
The knowledge settles in your mind like a stone dropping into still water.
The vascularization is so faint because these eggs are fresh. Newly laid. Perhaps only days old. Maybe a week at most. The mother would have laid them here in the shallow water where the temperature stays constant. Where predators rarely venture.
And the mother would return.
Gloom-Croakers are solitary creatures. They hunt alone. They live alone. But when it is time for their eggs to hatch, they come back. They always come back. Some instinct. Some biological clock that ticks inside them. They guard their young through the first dangerous days after hatching.
You count the eggs. Fourteen. Perhaps fifteen. All from one mother. A full clutch.
And the tadpoles...
You have never seen Gloom-Croaker tadpoles yourself. But you have heard stories from the beast-keepers. The tadpoles are worse than the adults in some ways. They are aggressive from the moment they break free of their shells. They attack anything that moves. Anything warm. Anything alive. They are nearly impossible to train until they mature. Even your mistresses, with all their skill and magic, lost slaves trying to domesticate the young ones.
The crab beside you makes a small clicking sound. Nyphl's glow dims further.
Blibdoolpoolp stands at the entrance to the cavern. Waiting. Patient. His bulging eyes fixed on you.
"What does the Great SHOOGBIMBHALD see?" the high priest asks. "What wisdom do the stones reveal?"
---
What do you say or do?
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