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4 yrs ago
Current Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4…
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6 yrs ago
Example of a "Character Flaw": roleplayerguild.com/posts/32..
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Most Recent Posts

@Sigil
Permission to edit my last post for a structural error?

@Sigil
Sure, but don't make this a habit, jackhole.

@Sigil
Fine. Took care of it.

...and this was our refresher course on post edits. Yay!
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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3
HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: Township Thoroughfare
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: Morty
Reaction: N/A
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While everyone else made it a point to exit this situation as quickly as possible upon seeing the child begin to shift in form to something potentially monstrous, this sole, blue Dragonborn who looked like he had seen better days (or worse days, depending upon how one looked at it) intentionally stepped closer. The next couple of seconds provided the reason given, that being that Victoria had dropped the name of Sheriff Arbalest. Whether this was an excuse to get close or a clear case of coincidence was beyond the reckoning of the Bard. Though she did have the presence of mind to throw the guy a bone.

"He lives in Darenby, yes. At the Fort. Or at least I think he does. The gods know that's where he pulled me out of a cell." Victoria smiled broadly, continuing, "A trifle of a misunderstanding, and a masterful opportunity for preemptive negotiations." It was a gloss-over explanation. Not a lie, but presented in such a way that it might be taken as color or creativity. And there was just a hair of both involved. "I can say that he wasn't there when we left. One of his subordinates informed us that he was called away and gave us final instructions."

Victoria noted the sudden difference in people around them once more. Accustomed to being the center of attention was one thing when you were on stage or attempting to tune the emotional responses of others, but this set of circumstances, especially after the night previous, was bringing her mind back to the teaching of her Bardic College. For students of the Grey Requiem, safety and subtlety were oft hailed as virtues when applied appropriately, hence the required training in the basics of stealth and survival. Acquiring material to work with or pursuing knowledge in places of eternal rest came with a cartload of misunderstanding sometimes, not unlike the situation with herself and the Sheriff she mentioned before.

Wordlessly, Victoria extended a tendril of thought to her companion, Morty. The gaunt, fully wrapped pig moved jerkily toward her and took up its usual position, tusks at the ready for goring or dragging along a corpse, depending upon need at the moment. Then she turned to Marita, stating, "I am unexpectedly starting to feel a little exposed here. Perhaps we should get 'professional' or get scarce. I am fine with either at this moment." Victoria's mouth turned to a smile, but her eyes subtly scanned an arc in front of her. One hand rested gently on the hilt of the slim sword at her side.
@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

So, here we are again; me posting an update, you reading it. Things are in mid-happen. One will notice that there isn't a lot of detail at the Thoroughfare section of the update. This is mostly because the situation hasn't changed much aside from fewer people being present. It's like a wave of people getting news and hiding themselves. Well, a lot of them, anyway. Otherwise, this looks like an opportunity for character interaction. Or whatever best fits character motive.

The duo across town seem to have their hands full, and have finally gotten into the Honey Barn, so congrats are in order. Do what you do.

And for everyone, as per usual let me know if you are performing a specific action, hit me up in the OOC of our Discord and I will make my DM'ly judgements, and if there are any questions just drop me a line.

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Weather: The sky is darkening. Once merely overcast, the clouds are beginning to make good on their threat of rain. The temperature hovers somewhere around 50oF (10o C), meaning that the incoming precipitation has actually brought with it some slightly warmer air. But speaking of that precipitation; it is asserting itself a little bit more. Those first few drops turned into a scattered handful, and it feels very much like the bottom is going to drop out at any moment. A brief crackle of electricity far above was followed by a staccato of crisp thunder, giving what might have been the last warning to the people of Avonshire to seek shelter.

Time: Fast approaching noon, though it might be difficult to tell without supporting details as the sun is not exactly showing itself. The Township is in the throes of a potentially messy midday.

Ambience: The word of what had transpired on the western thoroughfare has not circulated all the way around town yet, but people are running and rumors aplenty are diffusing from Ground Zero, ever moving outward. It is a very short matter of time before news of the horror fills the whole of the walls.

The overall celebration, even in the places which did not have a front row seat to the sudden transformation of a street urchin into something not quite human, had began to take a premature hiatus. The oncoming weather was a huge part of it, yes, but the overall thought that there were still a few days left in Harvestide. Plus, it have people the excuse to bring the party indoors where coin could be spent by a captive audience.

While word of the happenings had already reached the Farmers' Market, it didn't seem to stop anyone there from going about their business. The more than occasional farming implement that might double as a defense tool in a pinch found their way into the hands of laborers, maybe even a hunting bow or two, and the whole of them were a hair more vigilant. However, much as the old saying goes, The Show Must Go On. The ones smoking and curing pigs weren't dissuaded by the possibility eventual death and/or dismemberment. The barbecue would continue, barring extreme environmental upheaval. More pavilion style tents went up, people stayed close to their spots.

Over in the Traders' Market, things were wrapping up. Most of the imports has shown and been offloaded, empty boats and carts filled and moved out, and fewer folk might be seen here. When word of the event across town reached them, what few remained decided to become even fewer. Some of the less daunted kept around this place, not wishing to lose out off of purely a rumor.

Outside of the walls, the travellers' tiny, makeshift villages grew a little smaller. Vehicles and animals began to exit the area, though not in a mass exodus. May others are holding fast and getting ready to receive weather. And the unknown.


Fat drops of rain plummeted earthward. Not in any great amounts at this time, but individual deliveries of moisture smacked upon the stones of the main thoroughfare and broadened to the size of flat silver coins, dotting the otherwise dry way. A commotion is upon the immediate area, with voices in many directions declaring variations of what they had just witnessed. This will undoubtedly add to the already swirling rumormill, provided things work out as anything which might be considered positively.

Most of the people on the street have understandably found other things to do, and/or suddenly remembered a pressing engagement elsewhere. The one man who spoke in such an accusatory manner before stood there dumbly for a moment, a little confused as to why he was so quickly dismissed by the words of support earlier before remembering the situation and exiting with haste, while the woman who mentioned that she knew who the unfortunate boy was could be seen moving in the general direction that she saw him scramble off. Foot traffic became scarce. Animals and carts picked up the pace. Faces could be seen from windows, peering about as if to spy upon any aftershocks of drama.

Notably at this time, the only ones who aren't moving in a direction or another at the side of this once busy street are a single Human, Dragonborn, Half-Elf, and an animated, preserved hog, each.


"You're not in your home, Tiefling. You're in mine. You are not the law. I am. The more you mercenary types understand this, the fewer of you I have to humiliate." This was spoken with a sharp take of breath, almost at a hiss. Cavendish composed himself quickly and returned to his faux smile. Obviously ignoring most of what Kosara had to say, Cavendish stuck to one point that she had made. "Work, huh? Yeah, I hear Marcie pays her girls well." It was not in a supportive nor informative tone that he made this declaration.

Movement by the Kathryn and Kosara toward the Honey Barn was blocked by the other guards for about a second before the Constable gestured to his men to let them pass. "No, if they don't want to talk, that's fine. Let's go find the pretty one and the one that moonlights as a bar wench. See how they like conversation. Bye, now. You will be seeing me around."

The interior of The Honey Barn looked like a picture of many taverns across the realms, except for the main central stage. And the different levels with more secluded sections. And the curtains which could be pulled across many different locations for privacy. And the exceptionally loud colors. Okay, so this doesn't look like the picture of many taverns, except for the presence of a bar and places to sit. There isn't a whole lot of time for a proper look around, as the young woman who let you in calls for the Lady of the House immediately. "Oh yes, dearie, let them in; let them in now." There is a hint of urgency to her voice, even if it was hidden under a cultured accent and air of projected nonchalance.

Madame Marcie was a Halfling, dressed in attire which looked as if designed to give the expected appearance of a woman of urban sophistication. It was almost a costume. Her raven hair was done up for height - and speaking of height, she stood just as tall as she did before, which put her taller than most Halflings one might have the occasion to meet. Her footsteps rang out hollow upon the cobblestone flooring as she approached. "I shall be happy to give the two of you a grand tour here in a little bit, but for now, please lay low. The Constable just left and he does so like to linger..." A thought seemed to cross her mind briefly before she spoke again, "Whyever are the two of you here so early? We don't open for a long while, yet. Hours. I'm afraid I don't have a thing for you to do, nor a client to entertain at all."

The place seemed to be in a very lull state. Some women were cleaning up, others restocking or repairing things. More were working on choreographed dance steps, simple though they might be. "I was considering getting some tea, or luncheon soon. Maybe you can join us and talk about your travels? Try some of that fine wine you rescued for us, or sip upon the boiled nectar of some tea from the Central Sea's coast? Oh but wait, what ARE you doing here so early?"
@rivaan
Discord is funny about that sometimes. If you feel up to getting a post together this cycle, great. If not, remember that you did let me know in plenty of time and it isn't absolutely required. That said, if you need to make a roll during this time, DM me about it and I'll handle it on my end. Enjoy your vacation, McRiv.

@Vertigo
Closer to the end than the beginning, more like. Think two thirds or three fifths there. Anyway, this is really one part of a potentially three part adventure, if the interest is still there after this wraps up. Please do think it over, and feel free to cobble together a sentient meatshield new adventurer using rules provided if you so choose. And of course, I appreciate your interest in our stabby, magical adventure.
@Vertigo

Not in any sense that doing this will guarantee a spot, but, please feel free to make a CS for consideration here in the OOC. To your question: I was clear about race and class combinations in the original post. However, I was less clear with optional rules from the approved sourcebooks from which you may pick said races and classes. Seeing as the decisions made were done to fit with the level of complexity and and social factors, I don't have that big of a difficulty using this optional rule, with the caveat in mind that if I find it overbalancing I will instruct you to put it to PHB standard.

Or to put it differently, the modified point buy system I have set up works amazingly well for a little min/maxing and ensures a readily playable character every time without diving headfirst into powergaming. If it looks like this route is being taken off the bat, I will course correct.

There is another issue, but not about character creation. This is primarily an investigative adventure. The last person to join had a CS ready before the "big reveal" parts, and the party has figured out enough of the mystery to move onto the final act very soon. With that in mind, looking at the setting and the story thusfar, please construct a character which fits into this area and would have reason to help the PCs do PC stuff. I am open to respond to any questions in this regard.

Concerning how far back you should read, well... there are always bits of nuance that can be missed. So far as it relates to what has been transpiring in the investigation, I would advise going back to the first instance of the isometric map of the Avonshire Township, on page 7. Just before this gives an idea as to how the combat system works. Earlier for a better idea of the characters already in play and how they react to one another, and earlier still to get the reason why the characters are all here in the first place.
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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3
HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: Brindleton's Woodworking -> Township Thoroughfare
Action: Persuasion, Performance
Bonus Action: Morty
Reaction: N/A

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How Victoria had managed to maintain possession of her very jaunty, bardy hat through the grand chase was fully beyond her. But there it was, extremely not sitting rumpled in some alleyway like a sack of discarded socks. She counted her blessings and focused on the situation most recent.

It was an interesting series of moments getting to this, with Marita sprinting out without so much as a word. Lucky for Victoria that she wasn't quite so slow on the uptake that hour, else she might have indignantly remained where she was, sitting quietly in that same chair and contemplating what the puzzle pieces uncovered thusfar meant. Lycanthropy was still on the table. Victoria's own wish for this not to be the case did cloud things for her, but the possibility did not leave her active thoughts. Logically, it fit.

The chase was actually rather fun. Not taking the lead and merely showing support to the overall rundown gave her a perspective that was a little more objective, and by extension, a different point of view. It was almost enough to convince her that this was wholly unrelated. Almost. When Marita caught up to the boy, what remained of her denial broke upon the metaphorical rocks of reality. The Bard took a moment to read the room, as it was, and carefully had her Morty lean against a wall and be very still. Morty was good at that. She then quickly stepped up to defend the allegations directed at Marita by some of the locals.

"What did she do to him?" spoke Victoria, addressing not the person who actually asked the question but the crowd in general. Any good arbiter would tell you that you don't try to convince the person making an accusation. They're already convinced. You present your case to third parties who are observing. That was their best chance to keep a handful of scared people from turning into a ton of angry ones. Quite frankly, Victoria was not the wholesale slaughter type. "You jest. You must jest. Look at this woman! She is a child of Law, bearing the trappings of Order openly. And you know - you know - something has infected this community long before we arrived. You should thank her for dismissing the false comfort of willing blindness."

It might have been a good time to quiet the histrionics some, seeing as she was coming close to launching an accusation against a group of scared townsfolk who were already of mixed opinion. So now she went with a more personal, somewhat emotional approach. "I'm sorry, we have witnessed long days and uncertain nights, but cruelty such as this inflicted upon a child is more than I am willing to bear witness." Victoria turned her head and raised a hand to her eyes, a reasonable gesture for a woman trying to hold back an expression of emotion. In truth, the seemingly successful attempt to stifle a sob or two was in fact an unsuccessful attempt to produce one. She made the best of the situation; that being she did not compromise her efforts thusfar.

So the proverbial cat was out of the bag, thanks to Marita being painfully correct in her assumption, to Victoria's reckoning. But their cover story still held. Her voice reached out again in its pleasing, even, dulcet tones tinged with openness, selected to elicit a more reassuring, civil feeling in those around the two of them. "Sheriff Arbalest sent us here on a bounty task for Goblins." Which reminded her, did she ever claim the silver on those ears? Hmm. Something to give more thought toward later. For now, the purple clad, musical Necromancer put her game face back on, stating, "It is our adamant opinion that no good can come of, and no profit ever worth, the corruption of children."

To her credit, the words were moving enough to redirect the fear and anger of those crowded around. A few even wept. Most took a more neutral stance, believing that they had nothing to do with a child suddenly altering its face in front of them at midday. Still others weren't listening and wished only to leave the area. Victoria called it a win, with the understanding that the child's shifting of shape in public just changed the social dynamic into something more dangerous for everybody.
@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

And the game is afoot! For starters, I would like to officially welcome in Arty Fox, who is set to make their first post this cycle. To that point, if you would like for your Dragonborn to be on the street, witnessing the fun with Marita, Victoria, and and strange little boy, you may begin there. Conversely, if you wish to begin at the local tavern asking questions we had discussed in PMs, let me know and I will repost the interior of Neil & Bob's. It would not be appropriate to begin near to where Kat and Kosara are, unless you Monk is just now waking up inside of Madame Marcie's Honey Barn. Will PM details if requested.

Now then, it looks like we all have some hard questions to answer. If you have any OOC queries, as usual, please let me know in the Discord OOC, or send me a direct message and I will do my thing. And though it might go without saying, best of luck and may the Dice Gods smile upon us all.
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Weather: Though the sun is now a thing best hinted at by a spot of relatively brighter clouds than those around it. The temperature is not amazingly uncomfortable for the season, although that wind is beginning to make things interesting. Fully Overcast is the phrase of the hour. Even a novice to the concept of weather might have coming rain on their mind.

Time: Late morning. Not quite lunchtime, though some might have already broken into the builders' tea for that late morning slump.

Ambience: The weather, while almost comfortable, was chased off a section of the less aggressive tourists. This has resulted in a more-or-less even amount of people within the Township while the numbers were expected to increase. Businesses remain doing businesslike things, selling wares and chatting up the clientele with regulated cheerfulness. Everywhere, people engage in small talk about recent events and the weather. Unfortunately, things in this area are becoming quite dark on both fronts, literally and metaphorically as the case stands. The scent of hard-smoked pork is a little bit of everywhere on the western side of the Township; none stronger than in the Farmers' Market, where sits the most diverse collection of local crafts and foodstuff during the most fruitful part of the year. Over in the Traders' Market, the initial morning push has come and gone. With is it the major hustle and bustle, though trades, importing, and (to a lesser extent) exporting are still ongoing.

The groupings of wagons and tent circles outside of the walls are tying down loose ropes and making makeshift shelters for their animals, owing to the weather expected to roll in if the sky is casting the appropriate signs. Those temporary merchant stands which sat near to the road were still hawking wares, though with less gusto.


Marita soundly grabbed enough of the waif's arm to halt his progress. The first thing that might be noticed was the very basic craftsmanship of the rough, brown woolen coat the child wore. This was not a person who came from money. The second thing might be the slender, bony nature of the boy's frame, readily observable by Marita, whose hand was closed around his extremity.

The kid was caught and he knew it. Terror flooded over his face, far more than than was appropriate for being caught peering through a window. He struggled and twisted in the stalwart Cleric's grasp, getting more desperate in painfully short seconds. People traversing the main thoroughfare began to notice and look on at the spectacle unfolding, their expressions akin to one idly viewing a pickpocket getting admonished in public. One however, a stocky woman in possibly her early thirties pushing a small, wheeled cart laden with vegetables, blurted out, "I think I know that kid! Yeah! Where..?"

Desperation rose to tactile heights in the boy. He was visibly trembling at this time, hair bristling up on his neck. Visibly bristling. And that wasn't all. He whined once and scrambled to pull free, but the sound came out in less of a vocal utterance and more of a muted squeal. He turned to face his captor, and what little light came through the clouds high above reflected a dull red hue from within his eyes. The features of the waif's face shifted just a little, revealing a slightly more elongated nose and sudden protruding of thick, rectangular incisors. Not everyone was capable enough to see these alterations, but those closest took in a collective gasp. One screamed a high pitched, whistling cry. It was an aproned pastry guy named Randy, or so referenced the nametag. "What did you do to him?" questioned another. Public reaction to this varied from person to person nearby as some gathered closer and others cleared out as fast as they could, while still others stayed put to see the show.

The boy's muscled contracted, seeming to grow denser as he got even thinner, more emaciated. The whole process was less than a handful of seconds. This situation was fast becoming one of confusion, and in this confusion, the kid gave one last, slippery wrench at Marita's hold.

He pulled free and darted away between and among the crowd, low to the ground, with unnatural movement - but left his coat behind.


Cavendish lost his smile of smug satisfaction upon catching sight the pair, Kathryn and Kosara. he listened to what she had to say; took in all of the pleasantries, and all the while kept a wiry and observant look about himself. As Kathryn wrapped up and extended her silver ringed hand, the Constable rested one of his hands on the covered head of his hammer and cocked his head to one side, as if to look behind the two of them. Then he took a glance to nearby windows, the area in general, and back to the very tall woman in front of him. This was not a place that contained a lot of people actively moving about. He ignored the polite offer of a physical greeting, instead opting for an immediate change of subject.

"You two ladies are out here alone, aren't you?" he mused, a gravel voice piping out the syllables. A smile upturned one corner of his mouth which he quickly forced away. "I've been hearing some things about you. Caused a lot of trouble over at Bob's last night, didn't you? Complaints were made. And I had a nice, quiet town here. Now, a good Constable ought do something about that. Isn't that right, Lady Kathryn Pyke of Arcanaple?" The name and title were spoken with the slightest hint of sarcasm, but not so much as to be deniable if pressed about it. "There's a little park around the corner there. How about we all go and talk about it." Cavendish glanced at the guards which flanked him at a pace or two, adding, "What do you think, boys?" They seemed to silently agree.

Across the whole of the Avonshire Township, a few lonely, scattered drops of precipitation began to fall earthward.
@Arty Fox

Alright, the numbers on your CS look nice and crunchy, the changes I requested went through without a headache, and your race/class combo is in agreement with the rules set in the original OOC. Please feel free to move your CS to the CS tab, and welcome aboard. I will remind that we do have a posting requirement, also stated in the original OOC post. As soon as you jump in, you're officially in the cycle. I will send you the Discord link via PM here, and we can all discuss in greater detail the circumstances of your introduction to Avonshire, proper.

Thank you for your interest, and welcome to the campaign region of Avonshire.
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