LiLNasY

Where Wishes Fall (D&D 5e)

The knightly procession passes by. Though most of the soldiers are wearing helmets that obscure their faces, your quick glance reveals that the one female human knight with beautiful ginger curly hair and a male orc knight are riding without their helms.

DC 13 Perception check

You immediately notice that their eyes are clear. There is no trace of the unnerving, milky fog that covers the eyes of many of the heavily guarded soldiers and knights back in Valerith, suggesting these Queen's Guard are acting under their own will, not some enchantment or affliction.

---

Miller, the stern man behind the counter, doesn't return Garrek's friendly grin. He eyes your fine, dirtied dress, then the two gold coins you are tentatively holding out. He sets down his canvas bolt with a sigh that suggests he has already had a long morning.

"Working clothes," he grunts, his voice flat. "That depends entirely on the quality you need, Miss. We have two main options for serious wear."

He gestures with a thin hand toward two different stacks of folded cloth on the shelves behind him.

"For simple, everyday labor and basic chores, we have the standard cut. It’s durable linen, dyed a serviceable gray or brown. Includes a loose shirt, trousers tied at the waist, and a decent pair of worn leather shoes. Good enough for scrubbing floors, but it won't hold up forever." He pauses. "That set will cost you five silver pieces."

He then points to a higher shelf holding darker, heavier fabrics.

"If you need something tougher, something built for the road or long days of rough handling, we have the traveler's outfit. It uses thick, oiled wool that repels light rain and resists snags. The stitching is reinforced, and it comes with rugged boots that have sturdy, thick soles. It’s meant for long use, protection against the elements, and carrying light gear." He nods curtly. "That outfit will run you two gold pieces."

He raises a graying eyebrow. "So, Miss. Which kind of work are you planning on doing?"

---

Items Offered

The standard cut (5 sp) is the Common Clothes item.
The traveler's outfit (2 gp) is the Traveler's Clothes item.

The Rise from the Ashes

dndbeyond.com/sheet-pdfs/KarmasAura_1… - Here's the updated level 2 CS
roleplayerguild.com/rolls/29687 - 18 Insight
roleplayerguild.com/rolls/29688 - 22 Perception

The Rise from the Ashes

I slept hard, but the brief, half-memories left me feeling restless when Garrick woke me. I sat up quickly, rubbing my eyes. The camp was already gone.

"Thank you, Garrick," I said, taking the jerky he offered. "I appreciate it."

I ate quickly, the rough meat and salt helping to fully wake me. Seeing the distant smoke trails from the orchard made the need to move even stronger.

The horses were a true gift. We covered ground fast. By sunset, we reached a hill overlooking the settlement. "Little Happens," I said, letting the name settle. Even the name sounded small and far away from the power struggles of Ophidia.

From up here, the town looked busy but calm. People were moving with purpose, bringing in lumber and closing shops. The buildings were rough but well-kept. I looked closely at the people, checking for any familiar sigils or anything that marked them as being part of the Crown. They looked like woodsmen and normal folk, dressed in simple, practical clothes.

My eyes landed on the large tavern sign: "Moon Rabbit’s Respite," with the rabbit and moon emblem. It looked solid and busy, the kind of place where we could get information and maybe a secure room.

"Let's head for the Moon Rabbit's Respite," I told the others. "We need to find a place to rest and learn what we can about the Forests of Vestarel."

I guided my horse down the hill and dismounted when we reached the entrance of the hamlet. I took the reins to lead the stallion.

"Garrick, find somewhere close to tie the horses, just temporary. We can't all leave them alone right now." I looked around at the others. "One of you should stay with Garrick and the horses for a moment, don't leave our old man alone. The other two, come with me. We will check the inn for safety and available rooms."

OOC

Before entering, Cadmus takes a moment to observe the immediate area around the inn. How does the rest of the town look? Does anything specific catch his eye, like a guard post, a local smithy, or any unusual travelers (especially anyone who looks like a Windpike)?

Di'Siveks: The Promethean Hound (A D&D 5E Game)

Rolled only a 9 roleplayerguild.com/rolls/29684

X-tras: The B-Team Protocol (Marvel Multiverse Role-Playing Game)

Tentatively interested.

I am interested in playing a hero based off of the Monkey King.

@Guardian Angel Haruki

Hey, great to have you interested! Have been loving our 1x1 games :D
This article can help you start thinking your character mechanics without diving into the full rulebook. fastcharacter.com/marvel/charactercre…

I'll also study here how you could nicely build this character!

The Rise from the Ashes

roleplayerguild.com/rolls/29682 - 16 Perception
roleplayerguild.com/rolls/29683 - 11 General Roll

X-tras: The B-Team Protocol (Marvel Multiverse Role-Playing Game)

Subject: A Warm Welcome to the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning

Esteemed Young Scholars,

It is with profound pleasure and great optimism that I officially welcome you to our institution. As you settle into your dormitories and familiarize yourselves with the grounds, I trust you feel the weight of history and the promise of the future contained within these walls.

This school, formerly known by Professor Xavier's name, now honors the memory of Jean Grey, a peerless intellect and hero who embodied the very best of Homo Superior. Her sacrifice inspires our mission daily: to nurture your developing abilities while ensuring you receive a world-class education that prepares you not just for heroics, but for a world often unprepared for you.

You are here to learn control, discipline, and discretion. The outside world remains volatile, and your presence in the surrounding Westchester County requires the utmost confidentiality. We must ensure your integration into the community, especially during your daily attendance at Salem Center High School, remains completely seamless. Our schedule is intentionally rigorous, balancing your academic pursuits in Salem Center with practical training and accelerated instruction here in the sciences and humanities, including sessions in the Danger Room. Every lesson, whether in quantum physics or social concealment, is designed to serve a singular purpose: survival and coexistence.

You are at the very beginning of your journey. Embrace the discomfort of learning, seek wisdom from your instructors, and, most importantly, look out for one another. You are not just students; you are the next generation of protectors, and your potential is limitless.

Should you require anything, my door, or at least the door to my lab, is always open.

Sincerely,

Dr. Hank McCoy

Director, The Jean Grey School for Higher Learning

Drowned Gods (D&D 5e)

You kneel beside the unconscious form. The Kuo-toa watch in silence. They nod in agreement with your decree. Of course the outsider cannot see the throne. It is only logical.

You place your hands on the drow to inspect him. Your fingers tell you a story that your eyes missed at a distance. He is cold. His skin feels like ice against your hand.

You turn him slightly to check his back. The tattered silk sticks to his skin. You peel it back carefully. What you see makes you pause.

His back is a map of pain.

There are whip marks. Dozens of them. Some are old. They are just white lines of scar tissue that crisscross his dark skin. But many are new. They are angry and red. Some are still weeping blood. The flesh has been torn open repeatedly. This was not a punishment for a single crime. This is the mark of a lifetime of abuse. It is the mark of a slave who was broken over and over again.

You check his ribs. They stick out sharply against his skin. He is starving. He has not eaten a proper meal in weeks. Perhaps months. He is light. Too light.

Your medical knowledge is certain. This man is dying. His heart beats like a trapped bird in his chest. It is fast but very weak. It flutters. He has lost blood. He is dehydrated. He is in shock.

If you do nothing, he will be dead within the hour.

As you reach this conclusion, you feel a shudder through your telepathic link. Nyphl has received your mental images. The flumph does not like them. Not at all.

Your companion drifts closer. Its light shifts from soft blue to a sickly, unhappy green. It touches your mind. It does not send words. It sends a feeling. It is a sharp, stinging sensation of *rejection*. It pushes back against your fear. It pushes back against your idea of sacrifice.

Then Nyphl sends an image back to you.

It is you.

It is Leo from three months ago. You are wearing your costume. You are bleeding. You are terrified. You are running from the mind flayers.

Then the image changes. It is the drow on the floor. He is wearing his clothes. He is bleeding. He is terrified.

The images merge. You and the drow become the same person in Nyphl's mind. The message is clear. He is not them. He is you.

The drow lets out a soft, pained groan. His head lolls to the side. The blindfold you tied is already damp with sweat from his fever.

Blibdoolpoolp leans forward. He looks at the dying elf. Then he looks at you. His bulging eyes are full of eager anticipation.

He fades, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD, the High Priest observes. His spirit leaks out. Does he require the final mercy? Shall we crack him open to let the rest of it out?

Di'Siveks: The Promethean Hound (A D&D 5E Game)

I moved to the refreshment table and retrieved three glasses: one tangy, citric drink for myself, a similar refreshing option for Lady Agnes, and another for my grandfather. I handed the cup to Lady Agnes, and when she accepted my invitation, we walked across the lawn together toward the gazebo.

The blood rushed to my cheeks. My grandfather, Aldric, was staring straight at me, yet seeing someone else entirely. It was one of those moments. His face was full of warmth, but his mind was far away, back in time.

"Ah! Cassandra! Dmitri!" he exclaimed, confusing me and Lady Agnes for my parents.

I felt a hot wave of embarrassment, especially standing next to Lady Agnes. I risked a quick glance at her, hoping she would not be too put off by the mistake. Then I focused entirely on my grandfather. There was no good way to correct him, especially since he was asking for Melia.

"Lord Everheart, it is good to see you," I said, keeping my voice gentle and easy. I tried to interrupt his calls for my late grandmother Melia without causing alarm. "She's just busy, Lord Everheart. Lady Melia is helping to manage the guests and the gifts. She told us not to worry her right now."

I stepped closer to him. "And of course we would take the time to be here with you," I continued, my voice steady. "You are a very special man to our family, and we would never miss a chance to spend time with you on such a happy day."

I held out the cup of refreshment I had brought for him. My intention is to give him the drink and try to gently steer the conversation to something current, hoping to keep his good mood from fading.

Where Wishes Fall (D&D 5e)

The moment you and Garrek step into the main street, the atmosphere shifts. The usual market chatter and early morning business are momentarily silenced by the sound of approaching hoofbeats and the rhythmic clanking of steel.

Garrek catches your arm, his excitement briefly overshadowed by caution. "Heads up, Kalila. Look."

Coming down the center of the road is a small procession of knights, five in total. Their armor is magnificent: polished metal that catches the morning sun and reflects the light back in blinding flashes. Unlike the simple gear worn by most local guards, these suits are intricately detailed, featuring delicate, stylized rose carvings etched into the breastplates and gauntlets. They are mounted on powerful, well groomed steeds of various colors.

Garrek leans in to whisper, his voice low but vibrating with awe and slight tension. "Those are the Queen's Guard. Her personal defense. High rank knights, the best she has. She sent them here and up to Thundrastone to break the Vultures' backs for good. You don't mess with them."

The contingent passes, their disciplined formation parting the crowds.

Once the sound of their horses fades, Garrek straightens up, the subject of your dress sales momentarily forgotten. "Okay, now we can go."

---

Miller's shop is tucked between a produce stand and a dry goods seller. It's a small building, unremarkable except for the spinning sign above the door: a stylized drawing of a spinning wheel.

Inside, the air smells of freshly dyed cloth and rough linen. Rolls of fabric are stacked high, and hooks display sturdy leather belts and boots. Standing behind the counter, organizing bolts of canvas, is a thin, stern looking human man with graying temples.

Garrek strides confidently up to the counter, flashing a wide, friendly grin. "Miller! Good morning! We need gear for this lady. Something appropriate for work, because she's starting at The Panther's Rest."