The Harbinger of Ferocity

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

I have to admit I do not disagree with @mdk's belief that the rallying cry, at least in the United States, has far more positives than negatives. Some of us still do remember the 11th of September and the period thereafter where people were for a rare time, one generally unified force. It has been many years since I have seen so many flags flown or such number of those who call themselves proud to be an American or a patriot, remarkably in a time where we are not "at war" or post tragedy. More issue was bred when people gave up that identity to pursue other things, whatever they were. Now, however? A larger and or more vocal number believe the United States is being made great again and that the identity it does have within that should be exalted and pursued; there's no complaint or disagreement here with that, I might add.

I believe people need to stop pretending that competition between countries is a bad thing. Nationalism has the potential to do terrible things, but not every vein of it, as in the case with patriotism, is an issue. There's a difference between the United States' evolution of it and say, any other country. The same could be said for them all really; it comes down to execution. I might be concerned with North Korean nationalism as it is part of their rampant indoctrination and inherently provocative militaristic nature, but I would not be so concerned with say, French nationalism. Two very different identities and brands.

In any case, the efforts to defeat collective identities and the pride in them is a futile effort. They have existed since humans, perhaps even before. Instead they should be cultivated and utilized to achieve positive ends.

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The Town

The Mystical Martin,
Currently

"Is everyone this crazy where you come from? That's not how magic works at all!" The gnome crossed his arms across his purple robes, rubbing his face with a child-like hand, "Even Birbin knows that and I'm the worst wiz- ...never mind that part."

Catching himself mid sentence, Birbin shook his head side to side and flicked his hat up to his hand with a boot. In a fairly practiced motion, he set it upon his head and went about adjusting it, watching the strange duo talk about somehow sealing a horse sized bird inside a tiny container - as if that would ever stop it. Granted this did reveal the mage was probably not as skilled as he tried to claim he was, a fact they witnessed earlier in great detail personally, but it certainly was not well worth the panic or chaos.

"Point is, there is no way I am letting you keep it in here in their inn! It'll destroy everything, because you have a bull-sized bird in a shop full of glass! That and people live here. One of those is the bigger issue, though I am not sure which is worse off."

He leapt off the table, passing by Wick and to the window just right of the door. There again, owing to his minute stature, did he climb atop the wood ledge and peer outside best he could through the glass. With a sigh of relief, he turned around to face the company he had managed to keep, but before he said anything of use, he was clearly off on a tangent once more with his flighty imagination and odd whims of consciousness.

"Wait, I promised you drinks?" Birbin asked, almost as though he lost focus on the proposed bottling of midnight gems. "I mean I do sometimes forget things, but..."

"The Green Man doesn't drink, so maybe he won't mind if you take his lot? I think that would be okay."

The wizard paused, adrift in recall, before he again snapped, obviously remembering why he was here at the window in the first place. With both hands and some gnomish effort he thereafter unlatched the iron lock upon it and pushed it open, if only just slightly, letting in the chill yet welcome night air into the warm lobby of the Martin. He beckoned Katia over with an awaiting hand, glancing out the window for a moment then back.

"Just cast them outside where they belong."

There came a moment of delay between his words, which he followed with assurance.

"Trust Birbin, those gems will be just fine. It's not like you can even hurt them."

Effects

Score
Town

Map
???

@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

The descent into the quiet dark was a sure enough sign that this was not death; no, something else more grounded, less surreal, and even less permanent. This was not the first time he had been here, here being alone to mind in the expanse that was the unconscious. The reality of this mindscape was that of distant echoes and subdued noises, none of which were familiar in their distortion and dreamlike ways. What few questions crossed the mind in its absence from the world outside were blurry grey things, all seemingly quite recent. Like the noises they were undecipherable, familiar in their own right as though they were to be expected, but nothing clear or visionary. The contrast was what would have given Brannor some comfort, assuming he could so much as even actively think, instead only playing off emotion and instinct to these ends.

He was not dead, that was all that was for certain.

Alas, he was not awake, or at least not for some indiscernible amount of time. When he did at last come to, the crack of his tremendous knuckles wrenching their digits into the wood of the bed was his first of many reactions. The wood, creaking by the raking of heavy clawed fingers, was only overwhelmed in volume by the deep snarl that escaped his jaws upon realizing his plight of being stared at by a stranger and in a place he certainly did not remember. To friend or foe, the saliva slicked fangs bared themselves at the figure hanging upon his staff until the surprise subsided. Wisely, the bandaged man spoke in explanation of himself and just why he stared into the eyes of the tiger.

"You are an unusual sort, aren't you? I am rather sure a fellow brother mentioned someone like you working with them earlier... Ah, but where are my manners? I am brother Waladra. Pardon me for intruding by your bedside so."

Brannor snorted, ears still sleek to his pale skull. Unclasping his talons by the easing of his murderous hands, the wilder paused and let go of the rest of his defensive tension, or as much as he could muster.

"Consider yourself excused," His fingers pried themselves from the wood and some of the torn material that was the bed; he looked about in the dim candlelight and came to understand just where he was in the keep before focusing again on the monk, "But why are you here?"

He stood slowly thereafter, resting one palm to the aged stone of the wall, the strangeness of his own legs working against him throughout this effort. That and it helped none the rush of power, that which fueled this change, was burning away with supernatural flames within; it was not something refined or controlled, something the young beast of men could only beseech in prayer. It had taken years to so much as even see it, let alone years more until now to so much as call it out if ever briefly. Now? Now with it fading away, held on to only by concern for the company - whose motives he truly did not know - the moontouched found himself before. Brannor trusted the seemingly crippled man was what he appeared to be, but appearances were deceiving as he himself knew. He could not let go of this ferine power, at least not weakened and disoriented as he was now.

"And where are the rest?" His voice reverberated a growl in absence of control.

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Norschtalen

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The Town

The Mystical Martin,
Currently

Having made himself welcome to the inn, a small structure of thick, halved lumber and many large river stones, and four forward windows of thick and cloudy glass panes, Birbin dug underneath the bar; the gnome's confidence spoke to his understanding of this place as not only abandoned, but safe. Bottle after bottle clinked until the gnome produced an emerald flask with a deep colored liquid in it; a healing potion, or so one could imagine as the gnome then went about all the effort of setting it upon the counter - using a chair to aid in his lack of height - and setting it down. Not long after, the small magician scampered away, speaking as he went to pry up a board in the corner of the floor, addressing Theodore.

"A magic emblem? Uh... not that I know of. He wears very ornate armor though, lots of fine details in it of engravings. Mostly leaves and animals, which is why I call him Green Man," A piece of floor as tall as the gnome gave way and he managed another flask out of the ground, shaking the dirt from it a few times before setting it beside the other. "All elf stuff or maybe like a druid."

Birbin dusted his hands and set the board back down, hopping upon it with all his weight to tap it down. "Oh, and a green cape. I guess that's why I gave him the name after all. The whole picture! He's a Green Man."

After a few repeat attempts he at last succeeded and removed his bothersome hat, setting it on the seat of a chair. Wiping his bald head clean, his large and pronounced eyebrows moving, he at last addressed Wick's inquiry about the inn. "There's two rooms, three, but that was the owner's room. One of which is mine, but you can stay anywhere you like."

"Well... except the owners' room. In case they come back! That would be impolite I think. They might not be so happy."

Tapping his chin a bit, he processed some of the other discussion at hand but paid it no mind. Whatever he had managed to overhear, it was evident the smallfolk had no real understanding of what exactly spurred their decisions or reactions. If at all, he only seemed to be overjoyed by the fact he had any company at all. This was going well of course until the feline woman produced the perfect midnight gem and approached him with it.

"Would you be so kind as to explain this item?"

Birbin immediately hopped to his feet, standing up on the seat of the chair and waving his arms frantically. A breath later he had leapt upon the table and was standing at the edge closest to Katia.

"No, no, no! That's bad! Don't you know things come back to life around here?"

His scene continued before he could so much as react to the lady paladin's request which had come just moments before. The reaction he gave was between complete surprise and actual concern. More concern than he had with the shadows about, of which were presumably several times more dangerous, at least in general if history were to dictate anything. But the gems? Whatever exactly they were or were not was apparently not as important as the fact that they seemed to let things come back to life.

"At dawn everything that was dead is alive again, just fine too!" Birbin flailed about, trying to push the far taller black furred monk in the direction of the door without falling from his wood table assisted elevation, "Put it outside before we forget or Birbin really will need to find more weapons for his friends!"

Effects

The Mystic Martin is a two story building with very thick walls. It has four forward windows at ground level out to the street and two above. It has an entrance and a backdoor by the kitchen, but otherwise only contains a small cellar just under the tavern's floor that has no room to spare. There are three rooms, two of which are to be rented by those staying, the other belonging to the owner.

The gnome has found his cache of hidden healing potions.

Birbin reveals that the strange gem-like orbs are somehow involved in creatures coming back to life daily.

Score
Town

Map
???

@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

@Gordian Nought, for reference of how this could have gone differently - although I am certain we all anticipated Cyanwrath would use his breath weapon to clinch his win regardless - there was one instance in the repeated clashes of rolls where the only reason he was not disarmed was because he rolled the exact number he needed despite the odds being completely against it. Granted this would not have likely changed the outcome, it did stop the one minor momentum we had going into the fight. Other than that, it went reasonably well. He's certainly a boss character, that much I can assure you without spoiling some of his abilities.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

The arm that bore the borrowed, weathered shield of Longwater of Greenest adjusted slightly as the huntsman, now clad in added splint mail to his adornment of hide, leather, and chain, came to and faced down the challenger no more than paces away. The dragon's command to set to battle was not ignored in this hesitation, on the contrary rather, for the knight-aspirant drew in a breath and brought himself to a place internal understanding. This was the very steel and mettle of spirit that this Cyanwrath seemed to demand in the form of a worthy opponent, but the enemy of the quiet town was not quite aware of that just yet, neither were the numerous onlookers, be them the defenders or the would-be attackers. What came next was known only to Brannor in spirit, for the grip of the wild power he called upon consumed him physically.

Brannor's previously gritted jaw tightened as his already fierce outline in person grew far more savage. He became far larger, audibly cracking and creaking as this strange transformation viciously crept over him, bending and changing in proportions. What armor he wore, that which surely would have bent and broken, adjusted just as the rest of him did when he sprouted deathly fangs and claws, all of which accompanied a tremendous coat of pallid fur marked by an irregular golden pattern. So startling and harrowing was the unnatural power unleashed, that when it ended, the huntsman turned hunter needed to consciously exhale the breath he had taken earlier, forcing it to manifest now as a bestial snarl.

"I was born with the gift of the Silver Lady." The coarse voice came from the mingling of man and tiger, "Let your contest be proof of my willingness to use it on her behalf."

The half-dragon met the transformation of the paladin with a smile, something thoroughly upsetting in the environment in which most backed away instinctively. As Cyanwrath opened his mouth to speak next, few crackles of lightning could be seen between his teeth, tongue and the roof of his mouth.

"Haah, this might actually prove to be more interesting than I dared hope... I may not need to hold back after all!"

"You and I both."

A tremendous charge followed, led first by the bulwark of the battered shield, which crashed down upon the half-dragon with inhuman force. The two giants, by any human standard of measure based upon their stature, collided to an audible boom of metal. The siege was forced away to arm's length, only to feel the bite of slashing claws as the scaled soldier shunted his attacker back with both hands upon his sword. Cyanwrath was not one to stay on the receiving end without fighting back, and was quick to return fire to the revealed weretiger's aggressive assault with two swings of his large blade. The weapon whose type was familiar to Brannor as something he preferred to use missed on the first strike, but landed a solid hit to the side of the warrior's chest armor on the second. The half-dragon smirked and shuffled his feet, preparing for the next attack from his adversary.

The draconic being's true physical talent revealed, its attack had sent bits of adhoc chain and splint clattering to the earthen path. The strike, something that would instantaneously kill in all regular circumstances, only left the pale wilder staggered in the wake of its blow. Regaining lost footing as the enemy moved in, Brannor raised the shield he had so borrowed and struck with vengeful return, slamming the back of his armored fist with full force into the enemy's grip. The sword it landed upon sang, as did the damaged barrier. Startling as it was, the following attack by Longwater's sword in the hands of a snarling beast was even more vicious, one the half-dragon narrowly defended against by sheer chance rather than skill.

Cyanwrath was surprised to notice that the other warriors attacks were no longer aimed to maim him, but to instead strip him of his weapon! His grip held easily against the first strike, but the second one nearly wrested the blade from his grip. He held on the handle with all of his might, fuming inside at the blatant attempt of removing what he had sought of this combat in the first place. He had wanted a duel with weapons, not some brawl on the ground! As Cyanwrath prepared to strike back, he huffed deep, angry breaths which sent small sparks forth from his nostrils.

His next two attacks were clearly telegraphed as he brought his weapon high above his head and brought it down repeatedly, hammering twice at the shield of his opponent. "Respect!" BANG "The intent!" BANG "Of the duel! he bellowed, sparks of lightning forming in his mouth and as he roared the last few words, he let loose his breath weapon. The paladin was caught unawares by the commander's sheer surge of speed and the attack landed solidly, sending them down to the ground.

Cyanwrath huffed a few more times before raising his blade onto his shoulder and kicking at Brannor for good measure.

"Next time, know the etiquette of a duelist..." he spat out and walked back to his troops.

The kobolds raised the threatening of their spears and allowed the prisoners to go, the family then rushing for their freedom and loved one in the keep as fast as their injured bodies could carry them. By them, with just as much urgency, passed the healers of the fortress who had broke rank the moment their attackers had; the trio of Sefblom, Creek, and Creek the Younger. Despite the presence of their numerous enemy, many of whom eyed them warily, they went about their work skillfully - or at least with as steady of hands they could muster given what they, as with the surviving town, had bore witness to in unnatural powers.

The cult of the dragon did not waste this opportunity either, commencing their withdrawal as soon as Langderosa Cyanwrath had handed off his great weapon and started his way from town. It seemed that the half-dragon had kept their word.

Effects

Brannor and Cyanwrath hold a duel, of which the former is defeated by the dragon's breath weapon. As promised, the battle is ended and the family of Sergeant Longwater, who were held prisoner, are set free and escape to the safety of the keep. A group of Greenest's healers break rank and stabilize Brannor while the dragon's forces withdraw without further conflict.

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Norschtalen

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The Vale

The Town,
Currently

Birbin found himself at ease, providing a huff of relaxation and relief to know that Katia had not disappeared into the darkness. He bent over slightly during this and placed a palm to a wall, visibly trying not to laugh or choke out what little air his lungs had left from shock. Gnomes were fey folk, full of lively humor and optimism, so her return was met with as much surprise as it was laughter.

"Oh, wow. Things are way different in wherever you are from then." He shook his head and blinked his near glinting eyes, seeming to pass off the turn of events quite well and that black cats were not bearers of fortune rather than fell fate.

"But to answer your question, uh... cat-lady, the Green Man is odd. He is an outsider, like you or me, but I have lived here for a long, long time." He started as he disappeared around the corner, carrying on conversation as he did so while they walked the street here together; no shadows, unnatural ones at least, looming in the dim light of the dirt path.

"So he is sort of new but not. Not as new as you all are. I think he is some kind of knight though," Birbin looked back, taking each of his steps in reverse then when his body followed and looked up to the giants who were his company, "Wears heavy, bulky, dull steel armor - does magic things too, but nothing like Birbin or that other person I saw."

The gnome paused their approach, again lost in his own flighty mind, "Oh... right, someone else new came, not long ago. I saw them briefly, but the shadows attacked and they were gone."

"And magic stuff?"

"I hid it all, just in case I needed it. There are a few potions you all can share when we get up to my room at the inn." And just as he finished, he walked into a door and placed his arms out before him, sliding it open and into the welcoming interior of a tavern.

"The Mystical Martin - I think it is a type of bird."

The signage matched, one adorned in its carving with a pair of birds before and after its text. Presumably the gnome could not read it, based upon what was said, but the inn itself seemed respectable enough. It was likely the only one in town, the Hall aside, and was staffed by large round wooden tables and a crackling fire set in a stone hearth.

Effects

Birbin the gnome leads the party to the Mystical Martin, a fairly well kept inn in the strange city.

Score
Town

Map
???

@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda

"You Are Your Avatar"

"Who are you? Where am I? And how did I get here?"

With the shuffling of the unconscious back to their feet, the attention shifted from among their own number to the newest "addition", as one could potentially call them. With the gesturing of another weapon toward them, they seemed to collectively pause their own quarrels and issue a collective response not of a challenge, not at first at least, but hesitation.

"We are wanderers, if one could safely place it." The jowls that concealed deadly ivory colored blades moved in word, "And as for where you are and how you arrived here, the former is an unknown to us all - the latter is that we are wanderers. You, alike us, wandered in one way or another."

Its golden eyes blinked calmly, musing visibly over the weapon's threat and back to the noble presence.

@CollectorOfMyst

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The Vale

The Town,
Currently

"You speak really strangely, but that's okay as you aren't from here." Birbin's response directed itself deftly to the eladrin woman as he eyed her with nothing but confusion on his face. Whatever she had meant to say to him apparently the pint-sized arcanist hadn't followed any of it in his abstract and hasty train of thought. Nothing unexpected of a gnome, assuming one knew gnomes at all, but it was less than helpful, "Normally that would be an issue though... people are suspicious of outsiders."

"Anyway, off we go!"

And away the gnome went, leading as fast as his legs could carry him at a jog - the rest of the entourage, the outsider heroes, only found themselves at a light pace. Katia of course all but vanished, but their guide never seemed to notice. He was willing to turn his back to them and meander about the empty, surprisingly desolate streets that held nothing but dim lanterns and burning fires in their chimneys, all still as though the night that had fallen on them was any other. Granted the empty ambience defeated this notion, a sense of mystery and unease was deep in their chests, but their escort seemed to pay no mind.

"Which begs the question, Bourbon, where exactly are we heading, and who is this Green Man you are referring to?"

The gnome slowed for a moment, peaking around a corner and then turning to wipe his brow, clearly out of the energy he had built up earlier. Pondering for a breath, in between imagining his response, he tapped his chin and nodded. His head peaked out from between the alley ways, the group having covered half the town easily in their meandering jog following the slower gnome.

"It's my inn room - I paid for it before all the people disappeared. I keep putting money in the box too, which also keeps disappearing! So someone's here... other than the Green Man and Birbin, well, now you all and those shadows - but I don't think they're in it for the money."

From there he awaited the rest of them to gather and close, visibly not wanting to abandon them to whatever fate would come with nightfall. Almost as if on cue, his mouth opened to seemingly go on about this other stranger he kept company with, but like a bolt of lightning, something interrupted his train of thought. His fist, no larger than a child's, became a ball again rather than the lone finger it had been whenever he gestured when he spoke; everything he said was accompanied by gestures, almost as though he were constantly casting spells by speaking. Gnomes were odd folk so this was none too alarming, barring except for his expression and words now.

"Where did the lady-cat go?" Birbin blinked nervously, "Oh no... did she get lost? The dark is bad... but maybe not for her. She's a black cat, so that means she's lucky, right? Right...?"

Effects

Birbin appears to be telling the truth throughout his story, or at least what he thinks is truth, and does not seem to be aware of any other danger from an Insight check. No Perception checks are needed as only Passive Perception would be relevant for now if danger was afoot.

Score
Town

Map
???

@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

@Dynamo Frokane

I was never a fan of any of these series or their movies, but the portrayals from their original media are legendarily egregious and shameful. My only contact with them was by proxy, typically by interaction between fans or viewing the reviews of critics on their subjects, but there seems to be fairly universal hate for these incarnations.

A bit more on the topic itself, I find myself of the affiliation that adaptations - wherein race or gender are changed among other things - should be toward the lower end of priority. I prefer material that stays more true to its canon in its adaptation where possible. The exception to this is when you add qualifier's such as someone's reimagining or in scenarios where the fantastic or unusual do not seem out of place. The latter I refer to was when I had seen both the recent Jungle Book and Beauty and the Beast, a great number of characters had changed, including some core ones as with Shere Khan being played by Elba and Kaa by Johansson. In this case where the actors are already exceptional beings that are only remotely anthropomorphized - either speaking animals or animate objects - there is not a disconnect that creates any real dissonance with their person; there is no direct connection in mind between what you expect "reality" to be - you more willingly suspend your disbelief. And for reference, I do think the modern incarnations of these two films are better than their originals once you remove the childhood nostalgia - and no, not just because Elba as Khan is an impressive feline villain and absolutely ruthless.

But when dealing with exclusively human actors in scenarios where there is a tremendous amount of lore and story supporting them as to who they are? The changing of race, personality and portrayal are... less than faithful to the persona to be portrayed; more significant than say the "fantastical France" in Beauty and the Beast. It comes off as very transparent and flimsy. It feels insincere in this time and age, a product of corporate pandering to the social justice arm and more moderate mainstream.