The Harbinger of Ferocity

World of Warcraft?

It should come as no surprise I have been a druid since the game itself began; the Feral specialization, even when it was atrocious, always had my heart. For Warcraft as a whole however, there is much to be said and I have a certain fondness for the earlier incarnations despite their numerous quirks and the immense investment of time required. In some ways I am mesmerized by these early works, many of which are now only preserved in the supplements that were made for Dungeons and Dragons based off of it, as there was a distinct style and narrative that felt largely ageless.

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

The collective unconscious that steers the internet counter-revolutionaries is a pretty miraculous thing. Meme magic is quite real at this rate, @Kratesis. As they say, "best timeline".

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Brannor almost snarled at being pushed and prodded along, both out of his own natural reaction to this predicament and that he knew well to keep up the ruse they so desired. If any of the plentiful enemy would recognize him they too knew him as a great threat, which was to say the claim the green-skin made was only bolstered. It only was further compounded that whatever the hunter was within, he was a monster by any metric, which once upon a time - long before his travels out to the land surrounding Greenest - was a point of deep contention rather than purpose. What could a young heart, so gripped by nature's might, actually do if it was set free? Even briefly witnessed as it was, it was a thing to be reckoned with and somehow the source of other mythic things still concealed within.

That was what made this fine line so perilous to walk for the man despite being surrounded by a newfound company willing to dive into the heart of evil here; that he would need keep in mind the greater goal and instead temper himself. Thus rather than allowing the burning within to surface, his eyes followed the terrain and the tents, noting a band of presumed prisoners - for they were men and women under guard and in chains - hauling a number of chests, boxes, crates and other goods. All of them were observed carefully for the slightest infraction by their captors, all of whom bore scornful eyes.

No will to fight or resist... Brannor's mind wandered, disappointed that they would rather serve than die trying. This note however, how the armored albeit no longer armed agent of the noble wild's call viewed them, stirred that heartfelt motivation further; if they would not kill these monsters themselves, he would do it. He would do it in due time.

Soon the bear, rather the old man masquerading as the brown beast, tugged him along toward more prisoners. All of whom were at work with menial things. Fortunately, they seemed to lack the same scrutiny and supervision of those their infiltrating band saw earlier. Easy prey as they were to mingle amidst, this place now where he hoped they might take him, the man gritted his jaw and peered further for any other sign of their target only to instead be rewarded with nothing. The rest of his senses provided no added insight either, not that Brannor expected any - at best the camp smelled of smoke, beasts of burden, and the filthy lot who toiled in it.

This went on for a ways during their plodding march before the heightened awareness of the aspiring paladin noted something off, something odd. A man here and there consistently seemed to be spying them. While initially problematic, not fond of being stared at for any number of reasons Brannor could admit, the rest of the enemy's number seemed to pay them no added mind. No alarm, concern, conversation... anything, in fact.

Just what had this man's attention and why?

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Gordian Nought@Irredeemable

The Walk of Ice- A Prehistoric Tale

Do let me know what you think, @Irredeemable.

Urdash

Name:
Urdash

The name Urdash is not native to this tribe, instead being adopted from the outsider people known as the Ahwit that had been brought into the collective when some of their members had broken away. Since this break and subsequent adoption, the name has been continually passed on from the original owner, a sort of title and identity that simply is granted to a hunter of that line. Thus while there have been several called Urdash, there has only ever been one at any time, with each adopting the name until they bestow it upon another or pass on to the world of spirits. Limited only to those related by blood,

The name Urdash has developed its own mythos about the powers it has, such as the rumor of tricking the beasts of the land and their spirits into thinking there is no purpose in killing the Urdash as the ancestors will return them to life; to those who have received the name, these superstitions and myths are critical in retaining who the Ahwit were as a people. Few of their customs were brought with them, but the process of naming and its spiritual significance has survived.

Role:
Hunter

The Ahwit survive even now within their new home as a band of hunters, man and woman alike. Few are their number, they supplement what was already well established and largely keep to themselves, often willing to take upon their cult the more menial tasks when collaborating as a whole so that they might continue to retain some of their autonomy. The Urdash, despite being a particularly important figure, retains no real authority over the rest, perhaps at most being sought out as the in between of master of the hunt and shaman; someone who has been granted by the spirits gifts from both but obligated to use them in an unusual manner. This has made the Ahwit a complicated company to associate with, as their difference is expected and allowed, but not all feel that one can be somewhere between so many different identities.

Thus, more often than not, the Urdash deals only with the Ahwit in the dabbling of medicine, invocation or animism rather than the rest of the tribe who rightfully view them as a separate cult. As a whole to all others, the Urdash is any other hunter and differs to the tribal leader or the chief hunter.

Age:
25

Appearance:
As with most Ahwit, Urdash wears his hair long and predominantly free whilst accompanying his face with a full beard, a few braids among them made to symbolize how many successes in the hunt were had. Of the rough hide clothing he wears, the thickest portion over the chest is made up of mammoth fur, accented by crude boots and bracers of the same material. The rest being loose, thin deerskin draped underneath and no longer than down to the navel, met by pants consisting of the rest of that animal's hide. A furred hood covers much of Urdash's face and is drawn up from behind the shoulders to help keep the sun from the eyes and protect against the elements whilst also being decorated with subtle ornamentation like that of a few gifted feathers.

The Ahwit themselves are pale compared to other humans, preferring to keep themselves concealed by means of their dress and penchant for furs, but outwardly they are obvious relatives to Homo neanderthalensis whom their people must have interbred with for a time in the past. Owing to this, Urdash has somewhat stout legs, a larger build, distinct brow, and a pronounced cranium, making him slightly more unusual among the normal members of the tribe.

Gender:
Male

---

Story:
Urdash and the Ahwit have been outsiders for a few generations but have integrated themselves closely enough with the host tribe that there is a more mutual understanding of their purpose. Providing hunters and gatherers, Urdash was any other child to have served into adolescence handling the smaller beasts - those of which the men and Ahwit women would not busy themselves with on their actual hunts - but found himself so named by the passing Urdash for no reason he then could define. Now suddenly promoted beyond his station, it became a matter of learning for himself what the men and women of his people were to actually do. A student to this, he gained proficiency to become an accepted "hunter", but not long before the elder Ahwit took him away to mentor him in the basics of what his name too meant.

Cultivating an understanding of primitive medicine was no small task, as was it no easy one to be taught the entire story of his name and what it must live on and up to; the perpetuation of the myth, provided the spirits were willing. Rightfully overwhelmed, Urdash learned not by any exceptional rate or means, yet instead rather through a great trial and error up until he was well into his adulthood. By then, having not only survived the dangers of the world outside the camp but having been initiated into the secret practices of the Ahwit's animism, the story had already begun to play out for him.

Now the actual Urdash, he is a man who is part hunter, part healer, part adviser, and more importantly the mediary between all three of them in the Ahwit; the one who they look to first for understanding in that very moment.

Personality:
Urdash is not a hardened man, instead of a more jovial and light soul. He has never experienced conflict like that of man against man, the same that drove the Ahwit from Nhuit some generations ago, thus all he can claim to understand are the ways of the world. For Urdash, like the others before him, all things are interconnected and must be understood as a whole, requiring him to ask a great number of questions and truly understand the people around him. No longer being shy because of this, Urdash is not unfamiliar to interacting with the tribe at large, which is seldom to occur with the largely introverted Ahwit.

Glory:
Despite being the Urdash, the man has no real claim to fame. Some say he is many spirits in one, granted many gifts because of this, but because the Ahwit are careful to keep their culture and beliefs far from prying eyes, just how he manages what he does is a mystery. As such, when the Urdash brings back one of his wounded huntsmen he has treated and their party still manages a kill, none bat an eye and they simply say, "See how the land provides for the Urdash? The hunt was good, so no one was lost."

Skills:
As a man who is tasked with three principals of character, the hunter, the healer and the holy, Urdash is a surprisingly skilled member in these trades. Not one superior to any master of them, but in his diversity he has great strength. Ahwit hunters look to him for the blessings before and after their undertaking, just as they expect him to drive the prey to their spears or to heal their wounds sustained in the process. What he lacks is experience beyond these.

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The Vale

The Hall,
Currently

Despite the best efforts of Cesar Lorenzo Tidesong Bolivar to do that which the gnome could not, the great door dared not budge. Perplexing as this was, perhaps some much needed inspection would resolve the issue, to which the arcanely inspired Ysgardian answered. The man's hands soon began to trace the edges and stone, even the weathered wood and rusting iron, for any size or shape of disturbance. Once over he did this before something caught his attention; the grit of ages upon his fingers, he noted that the surface of stone inset and where the door itself laid was inconsistent. Rubbing more of the grime away, starting first with a corner, the man managed to reveal a portion of text, written in the blockish, ageless format.

To neither the surprise of the accompanying wizard or swordsman, the words seemed as old as anything else here, further leaving to wonder the earlier musings of just how exactly time even passed. This became only more evident as Valmjr brushed away more and more of the chiseled etchings, revealing what seemed to be a clue of the warding placed upon it. Granted the bard could not read it, but something familiar about the text lingered, almost akin to a nagging. It certainly looked nothing like the beautiful, sweeping, elegant script of the Kingdom of Light, but some urge in him - that spark of light he carried in his heart - nudged him that way continuously.

The warrior on the other hand, now smudged with grit and grim, noted the familiar characters despite their faintness and discovered some had all but crumbled. The purple gnome had noted this too and ran his fingers over the damaged text along the stone, looking to Valmjr briefly with an amiss expression before trying to better decipher it and failing.

"Whatever it is, it's old! Really, really old! Can Birbin's friends read it?"

Celestial

Under the eyes of the gods, not all men die equal.

Dare only - ghosts into the depths and suffer
no more the thieves and interlopers. Might those to
come earn their own place among this Hall -
- and receive the worthy - as just reward.

A curse upon those who dare sack this sacred ground.
Might those unworthy come to know the power of -
- and pay those debts which they have now made due.

Effects

Cesar too fails to manage the door's opening, perhaps something more is amiss? Valmjr however, notes as he physically investigates the door there is worn-in script, covered in dust and grime that lines the exterior of the door around the frame on the stone. Thumbing it away, he reveals text written in ancient Celestial using the Ysgardian format, some of which is missing.

Score
The Crypt

Map
???

@Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Rig

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

This is not mine but it was requested to be put forward. I certainly feel it is about as close to truth as a green text post can be whilst still remaining a form of entertainment.

Anon Summarizes Current Events

Return to Ravenloft

Erwald Andhund

The graying mage was no stranger to the surrounding mists and their clutches, rather he knew well what fear lied in wait, ready to grasp and seize his heart and mind. Just what he did not know was how these rolling terrors intended to do as much. His weathered eyes full of latent fear, he found himself immersed and drowned in their depths when they again consumed him; another night, another terror. Was it this time real or another of the fantasies of the realm that played games upon the mind? Whatever its case, his hand slipped within his robe and withdrew a withered old twig whilst the other fell silently to his satchel. Humble weapon at the ready, the descent led to him being surrounded - how long had it been? Where now was he to be? Who were the company the mists had drawn together? What was it they wanted with him now?

His dried lips muttered subtly, softly, "Another curse to bear..." as the shadows and silhouettes of the other mysterious folk began to stir in their wakings.

This wretched land was fond of its games, its torments, and the not so distant woman lit by flickering light calling out to the children - the same children Andhund too could now hear - only arose in his throat further despair. His hand tightened further upon his satchel and the twig, rather his wand as it were remained forward. They were not about to steal anything else from him on this night in Barovia, oh no. The mage was to be sure of that, so he kept on with his surveying the others and equally kept his footfall unintrusive to drew nearer still toward the light. The deathly mists creeping from all corners of the skeletal town, only slowly did he lower the implement and slip it into his sleeve as he was certain he was further away from the ebbing threat, at least for the moment. If these people were to be a danger, they paled in comparison to this dark realm where anything and everything could have well awaited them not but a few steps outside.

When the words so casually came forth in "So. You must be the welcoming party, then?", the response from Andhund did not delay.

"We should not tary..." He looked on to those bewildered starting first with the man who spoke before moving to the woman and her candle, giving her a nod. "... at least not here."

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Rightfully not fond of his bonds or how he found himself deep in the den of the enemy with them, the man watched with biting eyes while one of the mercenaries who approached them turned his back. This entire pit that they called home was crawling with their number and their inability to recognize outsiders mayhap to be the only saving grace to arise. However, what drove the man more mad was that they had dedicated to this plot with the bear guise; Brannor had not the faintest why they elected this, assuming they knew something he did not, and kept his jaw firmly shut in place of making a scene or talking. That was likely to arouse more suspicion than the tremendous brown beast it seemed.

Flexing his hands some, seeing that they were preparing to delve deeper into the smoky camp, he chose to ever so slightly test the bonds; never likely from here on out be a better time to risk that after all.

He prayed to the wild heart inside, an internal voice to act as his guide in this time of new and unusual trial - far more strange than anything else he knew. Anoint me with the strength from within, the means to stay myself and be at peace when before me and around me, all I can witness is this evil. I cannot stand idle forever, but I am patient like the other great works of nature. Continue to grant me this, Mother of the Moon.

It was not long into his dive for the heart of himself and what he was that he witnessed more company. As he so requested, he proved more patient in this too, feigning to pay no mind and instead survey where next the might be taking him. Not to forget of course where next to look for this missing monk, but he did expect far more captives in truth.

If memory serves, the little scaled wretches of the night before had a habit of surrounding and spiriting away people when they could.

Effects

Brannor attempts to discern where they are keeping the prisoners or at least the missing monk by looking around where he stands without arousing suspicion.

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

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

I am fairly certain refusing to work with known white nationalists in one of his original bids for President of the United States, denoucing the Neo-Nazi movement several times during this past running when they pledged their support, and blaming "both sides" for their roles in a recent tragedy is unquestionably denouncing them. Let us not forget this is the man who changed Mar a Lago and has won awards for race relations over an entire lifetime; hardly "white nationalist" let alone Nazi material. If actions and words are not enough, what then constitutes sufficient condemnation?

D&D 5e - The Lost Lands

The Vale

The Hall,
Currently

Of the trio who dared press on to the next set of doors in the Hall, the rest looked on with a mixture of admiration by the stirring words - feeling the urge to join kindred spirits - and disappointment that three were so hasty as to rush headlong into what well could be danger.

In a land of oddity, the emotions evoked by the sailor were unquestionably very real again; the audience felt more alive than they had in a time. It was perhaps this mythical, ancient structure and its heroic legacy that grounded them in what it was they thought they had lost since arriving; whatever piece of them had returned was already well on its way to vanishing again however, potentially leaving them longing, speechless or more.

For Cesar, this spell of heroism - exemplified by his own words - enraptured him and drove him forward toward the unknown, following in the footsteps of Bribin; the gnome who likely had no idea if danger was to be present, but went bravely forth in his honest naiveness. Soon the man surpassed him, only to proceed down a few great steps and meet the towering warrior before a set of darker, warped wood doors. Covered in the dust of ages they plainly revealed that they had, at some point in recent times been cast open, but again closed by whoever delved deep in their depths.

Reaching out with a diminutive hand, the outlandish wizard grasped one of the rusty iron rings that made up a handle and tugged with all the might in his body; the door dared not even budge. Struggling, now with both hands, Birbin tried again and again before letting the ring drop and knock against the old metal affixed to the wood. Stricken with confusion he looked up to Valmjr, knowing the answer already but daring to ask.

"That... that isn't supposed to happen, is it?"

Shaking his head and sighing, the little man dusted his hands clean and looked around the edges of the door with all due scrutiny. A wizard like he, even a foolish one as himself, had no issue in discerning that the door was sealed by magic and not just mundane reinforcement.

"An abjuration? Odd... but... it looks like someone entered? Or did they leave? Or was it both?"

Though the real question lingering was... how to open it? How was such a thing meant to be done? It was clear there hadn't been a struggle to do so, but now the door refused to budge. Perhaps some meditation or inspection on the matter would be for the best.

After all, the three had time if they knew it or not.

Effects

All of the party, to exclude Birbin, Cesar and Valmjr, may take a short rest. They must post what it is they do with it, such as recovering spells, or they gain nothing from it.

The others at the door may attempt to discover a way to enter. To do so they must succeed in an Investigation (Intelligence) check or an Insight (Wisdom) check.

Score
Another Doorway

Map
???

@Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Rig