I would also like to request a crude map, given I imagine cover and concealment might be fairly significant here. I personally do not look forward to being breathed on by a dragon - I do not imagine the thing is going to be pulling any punches, official module or not.
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Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics.
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The highest, most decisive experience is to be alone with one's own self. You must be alone to find out what supports you, when you find that you can not support yourself.
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The Harbinger of Ferocity
Agent of the Wild, Aspect of the Ferine
Nature, red in tooth and claw.
"There is, indeed, no single quality of the cat that man could not emulate to his advantage."
- Carl Van Vechten
I am, at my core, a personification and manifestation of those things whose blood and hearts run red with the ferocity of the animal world. It is this which convicts and controls my works, my writing, my being; the force and guidance in which I gain wisdom from. It is what inspires me as a creator and weaver of words, the very thing I admire as an author.
My leanings, savage as they are, are of the feline sort as there exists no greater lineage of beasts whom can be drawn from. No others captivate and motivate my talent and skill as the greatest of cats do.
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Fortunately I had not intended for my character to be anywhere near the dragon itself, so I am glad to see my plan went well hand in hand with the fact I rolled poorly.
Brannor found the company of the others at the ready, only one amiss at the moment but he assumed the other man was well on his way - how such an attack on the keep directly could go unnoticed the aspirant of the Silver Lady could not even wrestle with in though, especially not now - but they found themselves fortunate to have another addition in his momentary absence. She introduced herself hurriedly almost a breath after the halfling with sword and instrument drawn, posed the obvious and reasonable question of just what all they intended to do.
There was a number of things the sanctified warrior had tracked, hunted, pursued and ultimately slain, even in foul weather or raging violence but none of which were a dragon, let alone draconic in slight until this night. However, there was one thing he knew well about dragons that he did not doubt and that was the most awesome part of the beast was its legendary ability to breath gouts of flame... or worse. Fire by comparison was tame, but he had heard word that there were other things such as freezing fog or even lightning some of them could spout. It was enough that as his hand held the arrow knocked against the bow, intensely listening to the others whilst he kept to the stone's cover, he offered really nothing more than emphasizing that fact. It was the most concerning, after all, at least to him given his earlier brush with death in the night.
He would rather face a siege of kobolds, as at least those tiny scaled fodder could be fought on conventional terms. Even their human allies were a superior choice at that.
Orchid's plan, as lunatic as it was, at least had some merit to it in the fact that if anyone stood a chance at harpooning the leviathan at all, the green skinned man clothed in next to nothing was their most likely candidate. As for climbing and mounting the thing to fight it on its own aerial terms, that Brannor could barely entertain in fantasy, but it wasn't his business. Keeping the defenders spread apart was; the keep acted both for and against them, after all. It blessed them with cover but confined them in ways the airborne dragon could undoubtedly witness and act on by raining hell down upon them from high. If wise, it might just repeat such a process of attrition until its minions could finish the work for it.
Shaking his head and exhaling with a subtle snarl to his tone, he returned his attention to his company, looking back to them in brief and removing his tremendous hand from the fletching that surrounded the arrow upon the string.
"Do what you will against it to drive the cursed monster off or kill it outright, but avoid congregating. If any of its company are fool enough to take the ramparts, I will deal with them."
He did not wait for a reaction, pivoting back to the front again with a sway of his forest cloak and lightly drawing upon the arrow, scanning the skies not far beyond where he stood concealed and being ever more cautious not to silhouette himself before the open door. Again, while the gloom of night and the eerie haze of smoke and dim glow of distant flames made it difficult to see, Brannor had to trust his other senses not to fail him. They were keen, refined things - as was his sight that pierced the darkness - but the dragon was certainly no idle enemy, especially not he took it while it was on the attack.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Phoenix@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Norschtalen
There was a number of things the sanctified warrior had tracked, hunted, pursued and ultimately slain, even in foul weather or raging violence but none of which were a dragon, let alone draconic in slight until this night. However, there was one thing he knew well about dragons that he did not doubt and that was the most awesome part of the beast was its legendary ability to breath gouts of flame... or worse. Fire by comparison was tame, but he had heard word that there were other things such as freezing fog or even lightning some of them could spout. It was enough that as his hand held the arrow knocked against the bow, intensely listening to the others whilst he kept to the stone's cover, he offered really nothing more than emphasizing that fact. It was the most concerning, after all, at least to him given his earlier brush with death in the night.
He would rather face a siege of kobolds, as at least those tiny scaled fodder could be fought on conventional terms. Even their human allies were a superior choice at that.
Orchid's plan, as lunatic as it was, at least had some merit to it in the fact that if anyone stood a chance at harpooning the leviathan at all, the green skinned man clothed in next to nothing was their most likely candidate. As for climbing and mounting the thing to fight it on its own aerial terms, that Brannor could barely entertain in fantasy, but it wasn't his business. Keeping the defenders spread apart was; the keep acted both for and against them, after all. It blessed them with cover but confined them in ways the airborne dragon could undoubtedly witness and act on by raining hell down upon them from high. If wise, it might just repeat such a process of attrition until its minions could finish the work for it.
Shaking his head and exhaling with a subtle snarl to his tone, he returned his attention to his company, looking back to them in brief and removing his tremendous hand from the fletching that surrounded the arrow upon the string.
"Do what you will against it to drive the cursed monster off or kill it outright, but avoid congregating. If any of its company are fool enough to take the ramparts, I will deal with them."
He did not wait for a reaction, pivoting back to the front again with a sway of his forest cloak and lightly drawing upon the arrow, scanning the skies not far beyond where he stood concealed and being ever more cautious not to silhouette himself before the open door. Again, while the gloom of night and the eerie haze of smoke and dim glow of distant flames made it difficult to see, Brannor had to trust his other senses not to fail him. They were keen, refined things - as was his sight that pierced the darkness - but the dragon was certainly no idle enemy, especially not he took it while it was on the attack.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Phoenix@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Norschtalen
Welcome to the group, @Norschtalen. It is a pleasure to have you with us.
Introductions out of the way, the notion that out-of-combat healing is superior to in-combat healing holds true and strong even in this edition; some might recall the Wand of Cure Light Wounds or Wand of Lesser Vigor debates of old. It is also worth mention that while save or die spells are far more rare, there's still a fewer number of save or lose options, but not as many as the hit point affecting types. Given this, hit point damage is still steadily common enough to the point it is more or less the only real reason one would regularly die. Short of preventing an ally from going unconscious or outright dying, healing is usually the lesser option.
The Goodberry trick? Excellent outside battle and comes on early for characters. Not too versatile - I cannot really imagine forcing a berry into healing an unconscious ally by forcing it into their mouth - but it tremendously improves group longevity, namely at low levels. We as a group still have not hit second level, which I am guessing this dragon fight might change, but that's a loosed bolt in the dark, but I digress to the example that all of our hit dice are expended for the most part and we lacked a consistent healing member until now.
I would say it helps avert the 5 Minute Work Day of the Third Edition, but requires a pretty strong suspension of disbelief... even in Dungeons and Dragons. I like it more than the wands option by far because it is rewarding to the player responsible, but there should be a give-take balance on it.
Introductions out of the way, the notion that out-of-combat healing is superior to in-combat healing holds true and strong even in this edition; some might recall the Wand of Cure Light Wounds or Wand of Lesser Vigor debates of old. It is also worth mention that while save or die spells are far more rare, there's still a fewer number of save or lose options, but not as many as the hit point affecting types. Given this, hit point damage is still steadily common enough to the point it is more or less the only real reason one would regularly die. Short of preventing an ally from going unconscious or outright dying, healing is usually the lesser option.
The Goodberry trick? Excellent outside battle and comes on early for characters. Not too versatile - I cannot really imagine forcing a berry into healing an unconscious ally by forcing it into their mouth - but it tremendously improves group longevity, namely at low levels. We as a group still have not hit second level, which I am guessing this dragon fight might change, but that's a loosed bolt in the dark, but I digress to the example that all of our hit dice are expended for the most part and we lacked a consistent healing member until now.
I would say it helps avert the 5 Minute Work Day of the Third Edition, but requires a pretty strong suspension of disbelief... even in Dungeons and Dragons. I like it more than the wands option by far because it is rewarding to the player responsible, but there should be a give-take balance on it.
There is plenty of ice about. Nothing makes days on end far from home ending with a prolonged travel better than ice that people seemingly do not know how to fjord. We really are in need of another Ice Age.
I will be messaging you some time today, @The Darklight Project. Just to be certain where a fair starting point would be.
<Snipped quote by Hekazu>
Personally, I always appreciate the advancement of plot, as it prevents dawdling, but I thoroughly enjoy backstory, as well. I believe a compromise can be established. Though my virtual mouth only speaks from my own ignorance, I feel one can describe their downtime as you aforementioned while combining a reaction to your lively post, like Orchid's.
Just my two cents from the peanut galley.
To this I would agree, adding that there also exists an unusual balance in a play-by-post situation compared to that of an actual table. The entire timeline takes significantly longer, as we have all witnessed with not having even yet reached second level, for a number of factors.
The tranquil interlude was not long, perhaps no more than an hour's passage or so, before the fierce cry of the invaders' most notable power shook the very foundation of the keep. The stones wished to shudder from its booming echo, one that carried through every hall and every room, dulled only by distance. This did little to change the hackles it raised upon all ears that heard it. It seemed no longer content to be ignored or harassed by the defiants below it, the same that had been rebuking its armies by huddling ever tighter; there existed almost no doubt in the minds of the many that had sealed the port off again that their enemy had spread knowledge of their failure to take the citadel from within. What chances were it that only now the dragon sought to throw its lot in so directly?
In the time before this outcome, over the course of that same hour prior, the aspirant of the divine world untamed had been content to rest himself in a number of elements of his person; the soothing of song and the crackle of calm flames, it was enough to draw off his mind for what it could. Brannor's visual observations during this were no less distracted in the faint swirl of smoke, keeping a sense of amused watchfulness as the stranger cast a number of reagents into the fire and poured over a book full of writings - ones the warden recognized in word from time to time, but not in meaning. Certainly no common script by any standard, it was unusual with their familiarity to him and how the slender, greyed finger of the man traced the yellowed pages in his readings. From all these efforts combined, a sooted raven arose to its master's beck and joined the company as it fluttered to life.
Were it not for his conscious between the waking and dreaming worlds, Brannor might have had more comprehension, but it was at this point all information had become blurred together in one figurative stroke. Its winding stream of actual and imagined mysticisms was broken by words, ones that were unalike all else that had transpired. Different in their pointedness and unsettling omen.
Reality, or so what it appeared now to be, returned with the recoil of all things present.
At ready the man had returned to his leathered feet, brandishing the great blade that had rested idly across his lap before the haze lifted completely. Despite its heft and weight, the way it hung in but one hand spoke volumes about its bearer and the identity the two shared together. Realization setting in that against a dragon that could take to wing, let alone breath fire or some other terrible force, the sword was the lesser of his two options. It was in response to this Brannor quickly slung the weapon and drew up his tarnished bow in its stead and rested a knocked arrow between his gloves' fingers.
His bestial eyes pierced the dim and cloudy, incense laden air, scouring only to confirm to him what his mind well knew as they looked over all those present; that the keep outside was under siege at last, the threat there rather than here.
“To gaze back upon one’s days in satisfaction is to live twice.” The old man huddling himself spoke first before sending out his servant, urging both on their way to retaliate in their own fashion; a trance falling upon him after, continuing in word as the bird in place of the man, “Quickly now. We must not tarry!”
There would be time later for questioning and reflection on what all had just transpired, but all the huntsman could do was call out for the halfling as they started down the halls, avoiding the few escaping figures that rushed past and into any room that would welcome them, "Parum, with me!"
Undoubtedly the rest of the cadre were elsewhere, not far Brannor hoped. There were many things the predator within him could kill, but a dragon was no minor contender.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Phoenix@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought
In the time before this outcome, over the course of that same hour prior, the aspirant of the divine world untamed had been content to rest himself in a number of elements of his person; the soothing of song and the crackle of calm flames, it was enough to draw off his mind for what it could. Brannor's visual observations during this were no less distracted in the faint swirl of smoke, keeping a sense of amused watchfulness as the stranger cast a number of reagents into the fire and poured over a book full of writings - ones the warden recognized in word from time to time, but not in meaning. Certainly no common script by any standard, it was unusual with their familiarity to him and how the slender, greyed finger of the man traced the yellowed pages in his readings. From all these efforts combined, a sooted raven arose to its master's beck and joined the company as it fluttered to life.
Were it not for his conscious between the waking and dreaming worlds, Brannor might have had more comprehension, but it was at this point all information had become blurred together in one figurative stroke. Its winding stream of actual and imagined mysticisms was broken by words, ones that were unalike all else that had transpired. Different in their pointedness and unsettling omen.
Reality, or so what it appeared now to be, returned with the recoil of all things present.
At ready the man had returned to his leathered feet, brandishing the great blade that had rested idly across his lap before the haze lifted completely. Despite its heft and weight, the way it hung in but one hand spoke volumes about its bearer and the identity the two shared together. Realization setting in that against a dragon that could take to wing, let alone breath fire or some other terrible force, the sword was the lesser of his two options. It was in response to this Brannor quickly slung the weapon and drew up his tarnished bow in its stead and rested a knocked arrow between his gloves' fingers.
His bestial eyes pierced the dim and cloudy, incense laden air, scouring only to confirm to him what his mind well knew as they looked over all those present; that the keep outside was under siege at last, the threat there rather than here.
“To gaze back upon one’s days in satisfaction is to live twice.” The old man huddling himself spoke first before sending out his servant, urging both on their way to retaliate in their own fashion; a trance falling upon him after, continuing in word as the bird in place of the man, “Quickly now. We must not tarry!”
There would be time later for questioning and reflection on what all had just transpired, but all the huntsman could do was call out for the halfling as they started down the halls, avoiding the few escaping figures that rushed past and into any room that would welcome them, "Parum, with me!"
Undoubtedly the rest of the cadre were elsewhere, not far Brannor hoped. There were many things the predator within him could kill, but a dragon was no minor contender.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Phoenix@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought
There is a great number of us that have many of these same elements in their life or those most similar, @King Ravnica. Accounting for this blessing, you are bound to find some stripe of the community that you can feel a particular sense of comradery with in particular. I hope you enjoy yourself and that you do plan to stay.
I appreciate your kindness, @Gordian Nought, although I must concede - not that this is a contest - you seem to have me beat in spades. We have a nice, firm basis as it is for our group and writing ability, so it is a welcome addition to see we are far from going backward here. Carrying on, it is good to have you finally "with" us.
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