Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Battle Map

*****

Little Lizbeth, now white as chalk but not because of her preternatural ability to cease biology in favor of less living form, continued stepping backward until a shoulder made connection with the wall behind her. Thoughts whirled in her head that she wanted to do something - needed to do something. Otherwise, all of this she was going through was a mistake. When the Ankheg attacked, it felt like a natural instinct took over and something just happened. This was different. What exactly that difference was, she could not say. But Lizbeth had the visage of a little girl who, despite being in custom green chitin armor and carrying weapons forged for battles long past, was terrified.

The girl's mouth opened in a wordless expression as her eyes locked somewhere in the middle distance. Trembling hands moved toward her curved, short sword, gripping the hint with some uncertainty. The one undead creature in the room who was considered an ally, Morty, stepped in front of Lizbeth. It was given an order, and it was obligated to follow. Bodyguard - Lizbeth. No soul, but eternal purpose, so long as its animation held out. Oddly, it gave the young lady a mote of comfort.

The howl continued unabated. Maddening, unnerving, ruining possible conversation and anything that resembled a subtle sound, the undead horror continued to swell in the confined room.

Up above, the Mosswaters (Barbal and Tarace) decided to busy themselves with setting up a quick and simple tea setting. Not the actual tea, mind you, as that honor usually went to the guests, but tiny pastries, cucumber sandwiches, and the like were being assembled as best they might, despite the horrifying sounds coming from downstairs, in the cellar.

"Do you think they might need help with..." Tarace started, unaware of any details on the event but willing to be neighborly, "...whatever that is down there?" He looked concerned.

Barbal scoffed at this idea, shaking his head vigorously to the negative. "No." It was gruff, flat, and final. When Tarace shot him a quizzically impatient look, Barbal relented and explained his view. "Look, they knew we were taking Tea together today. It's just bad manners to plan something else at Teatime. I'll hear their apologies later, but this is none of our business - and that's that. Pass be those blackberry preserves?"

@Arty Fox, it's your turn once more.

Round Two

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Booty Bones

Location: D3 -> C5

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The collection of bones and decent footwear underneath the straw in the middle cell, now partially uncovered by a Mage Hand, began to shift and rattle amid the flurry of movement and sound around it. There was no screaming, there was no overt terror. Just the rising of about half of the contents of the crude, straw bedding, building itself in unbelievable speeds. When fully assembled, the bones seemed to potentially frame one of the shorter races; a shorter but broader Humanoid with thick bones and tough skull. It appeared to be holding a rough rasp of corroded metal, possibly a tool of some sort but just as likely it was formerly a decent enough dagger, or scrap of building material, the main feature of which being a rough handle and a sharpened point. It, too, was colored by the clarifying purple light, as was everything else in its immediate vicinity, but that hardly mattered in a bit.

The very half-second it was assembled and armed, a swirling, silvery mist manifested around it and, when it cleared in the briefest of moments, it was gone.

Surprisingly, it hadn't gone far. Being able to reliably detect two persons near to it, the thing went for the one which had an opening behind it. It was in this place that it materialized in the same instant silvery mist, behind Daxos. While not a truly Rogueish Sneak Attack, it was enough for the well-booted squat skeleton to push a fast attack home, jamming the sharpened, oxidized metal into Dwarf flesh. This wasn't a pleasant experience by a long shot, but it pales in comparison to the attack which immediately followed.

This was a Critical Hit by anyone's standards. The Dice Gods are not always kind.

Daxos has taken 16 points of piercing damage.

@Archangel89 Daxos is up next.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A Location: E6 Action: Spellcasting: (Faerie Fire) Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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This was different. Victoria raised her bow to her violin with talented speed and ease. She had already given the appropriate mental commands to Morty to act as bodyguard to Lizbeth in the same way it had done for Victoria, herself, and it seemed to be doing its job, interposing itself between the girl and the obvious threat. Now that she had some boxes between herself and the creature within the cell, she might be in a better place to allow those more martially inclined to ...martial, as the case may be. Her rapier remained where it was. In these more cramped surroundings, poking about with her longest weapon wasn't the most effective use of her time. And any ability to exert her will against the undead really wasn't a thing that she had unlocked about herself or her Bardic College's teachings.

So, Bard that she was, Victoria placed bow to strings and began to play music one might fight to, bringing her powerful, melodic voice into the performance as the need struck her. It was barely a moment until every surface, crack in the wall, edge of crate, and bit of straw in the cells and spilling beyond it was outlined in defining, violet light. Nuance, though a touch to the purpley-monochromatic, was amazingly evident regardless of, and to the assistance to, the conflicting gradients of light sources within the smaller room. Most importantly, the Screaming Corpse was made obvious, moreso than it had been previously, its every motion easier to track and predict thanks to the violet illumination which highlighted the creature. This all but guaranteed a surer strike for the surer strikers.

(Any modifiers for light are null within the range of the Faerie Fire, and attacks against affected creatures - like the Screaming Corpse - are made with Advantage)

@Sigil Suprise! You're up again! HA!

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Screaming Corpse

Location: F3 -> E4 -> E3

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Decayed, papery skin still smouldered in the relatively dim light of the cell, upon the ghastly creature that was once a living person. Fresh dents marred its already marred face, thanks to the efforts of its Dragonborn adversary. The scream continued unabated, now that the briefest of interruptions stopped pummeling its face. If it was capable of feeling, it might have been quite perturbed by that rather embarrassing sequence of cranial concussions. Lucky for it, a broken orbital socket wasn't going to ruin its weekend too badly.

The Screaming Corpse darted toward the bars, hoping to grab hold of the Dragonborn attacker and crush it to the bars, an odd clacking sound accompanying as its high, wooden sandals forcefully slapped across crude tile. When it realized the target was no longer present, it did something highly unusual for a mindless undead creation - is assumed a low stance, as a martial artist might. Specifically, as Baronfjord might. Sinew creaked sickeningly as it drew its knee high and developed a sweeping kick, transitioned over to the other leg, and launched a high arching roundhouse. Oddly, amazingly, magically even, the blocky sandals worn by the Screaming Corpse fired from its desiccated feet in direct, spiraling vectors toward their intended targets.

The first was a point-blank attack at Kosara. Thankfully, this flew very wide. The second one had a bit more balance behind it and impacted against the withdrawing form of Baronfjord with the force of a staggering hammer blow. Before minds could register what just happened, the missile weapon sandals were back on the Screaming Corpse's feet. It retreated back away from the bars and took up a defensive posture.

Baronfjord has taken 8 points of magical bludgeoning damage.

@Sigil Victoria is up next.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Mushrooms Daeys
We are open to people applying, so feel free to submit a CS. Just follow the rules as stated in the first OOC post here. Feel free to ask questions as needed, we're a fairly supportive group.

To your question about Discord, we play on both. It's still a forum game, but we declare actions and resolve rolls on Discord, then post here on RPGuild. I will note, however, that this game has isolation as an overarching theme, magic is moderate in the campaign world, and we're in a rural setting. I would request that you create a character that can function believably in that setting, and/or has a compelling reason to be there.

Read through our rules, maybe a bit of the ongoing adventure here, and let me know if you're still interested. If accepted, I will make a determination as to a good narrative point for you to enter.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox@Archangel89

And we have our "Initiative Order:"

Baronfjord
X
Victoria
Daxos
Kosara

_{(In later rounds, Kathryn will go after Victoria but before Daxos. Will update at that time.)}

The following is a copy/paste with some alterations from our previous combat encounter. The same rules apply:

Continue to do your thing and speak among yourselves in the OOC Lounge in our Discord. I will be doing checks behind the DM Screen (a restricted room in the Discord server) to determine various behind-the-scenes stuff that your characters are just not privy to as of yet. Please keep this in mind. When combat ensues, in the Location part of your header, fill in with the square you are currently occupying, an arrow ( -> ) and the square you are going to.

Example: P14 -> K18

Now that combat is entered into officially, the posting rules have changed. Roll your initiatives in the Discord OOC and tag me (already done). I will roll for the baddies and we'll get ourselves an initiative order (also already done, but this is to illustrate for the new guy/remind us all 'cause it's been a while). The first person in that list has TWO DAYS to handle requests and post their actions. Actions are to be noted in the spaces provided in your header. When you are done with your actions, TAG THE NEXT PERSON IN THE INITIATIVE ORDER in your post. If it's an NPC, that means it's me.

I must admit that there is a flaw in my system here, as it relates to Reactions. All I can say is that we'll cross that bridge when it comes to it. If you can get in a Reaction and choose to, let me know. I will make the appropriate post edits and tag folks in Discord to alert them to the change. Until a better system is in place, we will work something out.

I have placed everyone on the map already, if it isn't obvious who everyone is, Ko = Kosara, Ka = Kathryn, B = Baronfjord, D = Daxos, V = Victoria, m = Morty (the lower case is intentional), and for the first time, L = Lizbeth.

Circumstances for victory are as follows: Defeat all enemies (what constitutes a "defeat" can vary) and KEEP LIZBETH ALIVE. It also would be smart to note that, because of the restricted environs, area effect spells and large weapon swings are not going to be your best friends here. Use both with caution, I will be applying penalties and possible friendly fire situations for people who are reckless or feel the risk is worth it.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Battle Map

Weather: Oh, the outside is still cold and white, but let's take a look at how many people are out there, hmm? So don't worry about it.

Time: Teatime. Time for tea. That makes it sometime in the early to mid-afternoon, past luncheon but quite well before supper. If you were a Halfling, you'd be hitting the second half of your dining day right about now.

Ambience: You're caught in a secret "study", brightly but unevenly lit by a Light cantrip applied to the resident Tiefling's main article of clothing. Other than that, the dim glow of what might be a magical circle (if you're lucky) provides constant but not very revealing light. This is a close room, designed for the free movement of one person but now containing a handful. Maneuvering may be difficult.

*****

Lizbeth has taken it upon herself to step once more back, away from the ceaseless howl - a constant cry to the universe that has passed far beyond the physical capability of living lungs or a mortal throat to bring into the world and maintain. It is the stuff of horror, made even moreso by its issuer; a gaunt, half dried corpse which stood with a puppetlike pose and gait of uncanny wrongness. Another scant step taken upon blocky wooden sandals, another moment of the continuing wail. Eyes that weren't actually there crumble into dehydrated nothingness and fall from now empty sockets, to be replaced by pinpricks of light amid the darkness therein.

Baronfjord would notice the strangeness of this creature, aside from the fact that it won't stop screaming. Those eyes and that gait greatly resemble that of the fairly advanced undead creature he fought in the road. It might have given the initial impression of a basic grunt, but it took a comparatively lot of damage to take down, and it hit like a seasoned professional.

Speaking of which, @Arty Fox, you are up first in the initiative order, so... Good luck.

Round One

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@rivaan@Shoe Thief@Sigil@Arty Fox@Archangel89

Ah, here we are. Just one quick point and I'll leave you to it:

Everyone in the Study - ROLL FOR INITIATIVE.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Coach House

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Weather: It's almost a lovely day outside, so long as one doesn't mind the cold. Still quite a bit of cloud cover, though Mr. Sun is bright a beaming a good portion of the time. Temperatures fluctuate right around freezing, turning this whole place into icicle country (but it looks very festive, to be fair). The snow cover, which is pretty much total still, now features a crunchy crust across the top and an overall lowering of height. In the far horizon, the sky seems darker - too dark for this time of day. More weather might be moving in.

Time: Yes, ladies and gents! It's time for tea. Teatime, if you will. Lovely part of the day, usually, though it remains to be seen here.

Ambience: The air is cool in the cellar/study area. It is the stable temperature of the stone-lined underground, which is absolutely perfect for keeping things preserved and as unchanging as possible, short of magic. But while the cellar portion of the underground is a calm reflection of the practical needs of the Coach House, the Study is decidedly not. The red circle on the ground continues its silent vigil, glowing very slightly. Other spots in the Study have been picked through for interesting bits of curio, and the narrowest margin of disarray shows because of it. The inner door still rests to one side, removed from its moorings, while the outer, no-longer-hidden door stands open, the prybar still protruding from the exterior locking mechanism. The only light within this room is what one brings with them.

The simply furnished room is more or less exactly as it was just moments ago; bookshelf with a few handwritten journals and other, probably not native writings, a suspicious table, desk with (alleged) wands now on it among the other things one might ordinarily find on a desk, an uneven stack of crates near to the section of the wall which had recently been plundered by Lizbeth and Victoria - and of course, the cells. The top cell appeared quite unremarkable and unoccupied. The middle might still be unoccupied, except for the pile of dry bones and, oddly enough, evidence of footwear. The bottom cell seemed to become the most interesting. Its sole occupant appeared to be a corpse, sitting upon the straw bedding in the fetal position in a grey tabard of some sort, head down. Though there now seems to be a question as to its status. Being fair, the corpse hasn't commented on it yet.

*****

Lizbeth's face grew serious to reflect Victoria's sudden change of smiling subtext. When the items recovered from the cache were offered, she swiftly took them and, in a sudden burst of stunned obedience, retreated behind the Bard's thrall as per instruction. Briefly, Lizbeth toyed with the idea that whatever was happening might be a thing she could help out with, now that she had a hair more reassurance that she probably wasn't a monster but eventually a powerful spellcaster of grim origin. She still had the empty vial of rough crystal, its leather cord wrapped around one hand, and thought it might ...just suddenly do something... even if it looked more inert than mere moments ago. Her fingers wrapped around the shard of obsidian that she had cut her finger on just earlier, hoping that it might be a weapon or have some magic that she might instinctively use (if the emergency called for it), but mostly, what ran through her mind was a sort of nervous fear that threatened to limit her options. This was not how she imagined associating with big, though Adventurers would be. Lizbeth did not like being afraid. Slowly, she found her feet backing toward the door, even further behind Morty.

Upstairs, as Kathryn approached the main door to the Taproom, the knocking came louder and more frequently. The voice behind it started to sound more annoyed, even if one could not quite make out what they were saying through a door and from a little distance. What words could be heard more or less clearly sounded like the Common trade tongue of the realm, that being the broader language of Humans, with local color accenting the semi-exchange. When finally at the scene of the portal disturbance, opening the door revealed a pair of folks ready for an event which may have been overlooked in the hustle and bustle of the day. It was two familiar Halflings who were very good friends, whom the party had established a date for Tea upon this day. Tarace and Barbal Mosswater, the pair who owned a sizeable estate of working agricultural land quite nearby. While Barbal remained just as grumpy looking as ever, Tarace quickly plastered a genteel smile across his face and, with the skill of a rural diplomat, held out a basket which held assorted cheese and sausages, packed with fresh herbs."Why hello, Lady Kathryn!" he exclaimed with zeal that was probably at least half genuine. "We're here for our Tea appointment! Or party, I should say, with this jolly gathering of exciting outsiders. Barbal here thought that wine was the appropriate gift to bring," Tarace gestured his head back in the surly Halfling's direction.

"Manners say it was!" interrupted Barbal, impatience obvious on his face. "Shows we're keeping tradition!"

Tarace continued in a face of what might become an argument later on, "...but I said that you have well enough wine in a vineyard, and some good sausage will hit just the right spot. Am I right?" The more genial Halfling smiled again, motioning into the open Taproom with his nose while still holding up the gift basket.

Barbal, who was stuck hauling everything else that might make a good Tea outing possible, was less diplomatic. "My balls are closer to the snow than yours are, and they're getting frozen off out here. May we come in?"

Downstairs, a minor argument erupted among the party concerning the probably not actually dead guy in the first cell. Voices were raised, suggestions hurled, events reminded of. Points were made. And in the end, divine power manifested among the secrets and magic in the hidden, underground portion of the Coach House. In that moment, unexpected things happened:

The spell went off without a hitch, striking down upon the potential threat with a practiced ease and efficiency that allowed every spark of radiant magic to land with determined force. The figure, sitting hunched over in a fetal position, got its flesh seared from its bones in a manner that was grotesque and expert, simultaneously. And while this was a staggering blow to anyone who might receive it, the creature did not crumble.

A howl issued forth from the gaping mouth hole of the thing within the cell, even before it raised eyeless sockets surrounded by dry, grey flesh. The howl intensified in volume and horror - pure invocation of soul-bleeding terror - the likes of which could not be produced merely by the corpse shell in front of the group. This was a scream was without breath, constant, far beyond the length that mortal lungs could fuel. The thing rose from its position even as more skin, more flesh fell from itself, burning away under the scrutiny of holy light. It stepped forward once, still howling, putting its weight onto blocky, wooden sandals as it slowly took one full step toward the bars.

The scream never stopped. It never even slowed.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5 HP: 33 / 33 Armor Class: 16 Conditions: N/A Location: Coach House (Cellar/"Study") Action: Spellcasting: (Speak With Dead) Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Victoria was fully willing to go along with the idea that the party would hand back anything they find on what was going to eventually be Lizbeth's vineyard. It would have been less advantageous to go against it if it meant ostracizing herself from the group. This whole situation looked like it was going to become something very ugly, but with the potential to amass a ton of useful knowledge. Victoria was keen on learning more, especially concerning her fields of expertise. Power was a close cousin to knowledge. And overall, the Bard was looking to develop herself into something more powerful. She kept quiet and smiled approvingly to her companions, and to Lizbeth. Things could be worked out later, preferably with a well-meaning conversation. Victoria was good with those.

It looked very much like Victoria's research-based abilities were going to get a workout, both practical and magical, if the party had anything to say about it. Bold of them to assume that she would jump right into that, but being honest, of course she was going to. Victoria wanted to know about everything they had been uncovering just as much, maybe even more, than the others did. While they were all very good in matters pertaining to staying alive in the thick of combat, this was her personal zone of competence. The first piece of business came from Baronfjord - a collection of fine and questionable wands - and his desire to remove them elsewhere for further study along with much of Arnaud L'Rose's personal writings. "I agree. We have some things here that need to be looked over, as well." Victoria had to admire the fact that the Monk gave no hesitation in laying everything out for the rest of them to see. After being with these people for some months now, Victoria really should have let a couple of her defenses down and be more open about things like this. They were not the more mercenary-like group of which she was formerly a member. Trust was hard sometimes, though.

Kosara's concern about her injuries after her fall was quite animated, but also a little heartwarming. She extended her arms to her sides and twisted from one side to the other, smiling slightly. She wanted a good look, and that fine. Victoria was ever the showgirl. "I appreciate the offer, dear Kosara; truly I do. It is already handled. I have some very minor ability to heal, especially compared to yourself, but it was enough in this instance. Thank you."

It seemed that Kathryn and Kosara had similar concerns, as it came to the fall and bits of her blood upstairs. So Victoria stopped being vague about it, as hopefully this would get them past the topic and focused on the present. "When the surge happened, I was teleported to several places over the course of a minute. This room, the taproom, the roof..." She trailed off for a second, not particularly liking the events on which took place above them, "...and when I slipped and fell off the roof, the last teleport put me in Kathryn's room upstairs. This form of teleportation did not negate the inertia of the fall." Hopefully, this was enough of an explanation to get the gist of her little adventure across.

But to Kathryn specifically, "Naturally, Kat. I have a ritual that can help us figure out what these things do. It will take some time, but I am capable. The wand I'm holding onto from before," and Victoria made sure to specify these words as she didn't want to lay definitive claim to a thing that wasn't obviously best suited to her in this party, "only reveals the presence of magic. It does not identify, except for the schools of magic represented." Victoria adopted a thoughtful look as she tried to remember what she saw from her very brief time in the "study" with the active Detect Magic spell going. "These wands radiate Enchantment, Abjuration, Necromancy, Transmutation, and something ...well, random. I would need to get them under scrutiny to know more."

There was one thing that she could do in the meantime, and that was to engage in a little party-sanctioned Necromancy. In this case, a couple of them had asked her to have an informative conversation with the dead guy in the bottom most cell. So Victoria set to it. She set her part of the haul on a crate nearby and flourished her hand, producing her violin bow, which she immediately set to her strings. A quiet set of notes, barely a whisper in comparison to the volume possible from her instrument, but enough to invoke her spellwork from the sheet music of the Weave. Her face relaxed into a warm, genuine smile that reached her crystal blue eyes; pale orbs which now sat within pools of deepening darkness, now reaching down her face in quiet rivulets of tear-shaped necromancy. Victoria's voice adopted simultaneous qualities of power and soothing, melodic intonation, as her whisper to the dead seemed to echo in this small room, "Come, fallen one. Speak with me."

Victoria's face shifted to confusion, then a more profound understanding of the situation. The heaviness of her magic, a thing which was hard to notice until it had passed, lifted from the room. Her smile remained, though her eyes, still colored from her access to the Grey Requiem, sharpened in inquisitive intensity. The Bard's personal Thrall, Morty, took a few selected shuffles back in the direction of the young Wine Heiress, Lizbeth, at Victoria's mental command. "Lizbeth, sweetheart?" she began, sparing a quick glance at the young lady, "Would you please take the things we just found and step behind Morty? Our friend here isn't dead."