[User]
 You step through the portal, knowing that you aren't going to come back.

You see the blasted hellscape, the reddened sky, the burnt trees, the obsidian stones. And directly ahead-five minor demons, investigating the appearance of a portal. They startle upon seeing you, and raise their hands, flames gathering in their palms.

Roll initiative.

 Spoiler: OOC
 (1d20+2)[ 22 ]  Init for the demon gaggle.

You're some 80' away from them at the moment, with a clear path to them. There are a few spots of cover around 20' away directly to your left-a pile of obsidian with a blasted tree growing from it.

[User]
 Leela Earthstride ,  Halfling Druid/Cleric of Yondalla  Leela says a little pray to Yondalla before stepping through the portal.  All her hard work had led up to this.  She has been on the material plane for a long time now, but her duties to her goddess had lead her here.  They step through the portal and immediately see the wasteland before them.  There are demons waiting for them, a little surprised to see them, on the other side.  She looks at her two companions, smirking up at them,  "Well, shall we?"

 Spoiler: Initiative
 (1d20+6)[ 10 ]

[User]
 Il'Drassyd grins maniacally as he steps in. After seeing the demons, he grins a bit more.

  "I think we shall!"

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC

Crap, I forgot to roll XD

 (1d20+0)[ 17 ]

[User]
 EHAHAHA! This will be  delightful!

 Spoiler: OOC
 (1d20+6)[ 7 ]

[User]
 The demons chatter to each other as they hurl flames and draw nearer. They wait till they're about 60' away before actually launching the attacks.

 Spoiler: OOC
Attacks target Leela (1), Il'Drassyd (2), or Julius (3).

 (1d3)[ 3 ]  Target
 (1d20+6)[ 18 ]  Attack
 (2d6)[ 9 ]  Fire Damage on a hit

 (1d3)[ 3 ]  Target
 (1d20+6)[ 15 ]  Attack
 (2d6)[ 7 ]  Fire Damage on a hit

 (1d3)[ 1 ]  Target
 (1d20+6)[ 16 ]  Attack
 (2d6)[ 4 ]  Fire Damage on a hit

 (1d3)[ 1 ]  Target
 (1d20+6)[ 21 ]  Attack
 (2d6)[ 8 ]  Fire Damage on a hit

 (1d3)[ 3 ]  Target
 (1d20+6)[ 24 ]  Attack
 (2d6)[ 6 ]  Fire Damage on a hit

[User] Missed me! Missed me!  The third Attack hits, but I'll take fire damage for my Fiendish Resilience.  Oh...how  mildly  annoying.  (3 damage)

[User] Il'Drassyd hardly thinks before charging forward and letting loose a swing of his blade to gauge his opponent's strength.

[User]
 Spoiler: Screwed up the rolls

 (1d20+11)[ 22 ]  To Attack
 (2d6+5)[ 8 ]  Slashing damage and  (3d8)[ 10 ] + (2d6)[ 7 ]  fire damage to the one I hit, and  (3d8+5)[ 26 ]  fire damage to a second one within 5 feet.

I am also now on fire from Flames of Phlethegos

[User] Well, this is simple. Quickened Scorching Ray!   (1d20+18)[ 21 ]   (1d20+18)[ 26 ]  and  (4d6+8)[ 23 ]  for the one arenabait hit and  (1d20+18)[ 26 ]  and  (4d6)[ 17 ]  for the one that got the flame reverb.  And now...Twinned Finger of Death!   (7d8+40)[ 72 ]  damage, Con save 24.

[User]
 Leela Earthstride ,  Halfling Druid/Cleric of Yondalla  Leela runs up after the other two, waving a hand at the demon who has taken the most beating thus far.

 Spoiler

Alright, targeting the weakest looking one, if that one dies before her turn, move along to the next one!

If they're all dead, double move!

 Move  - Move 25ft up
 Bonus  - Shillelagh on staff
 Standard  - Sacred flame, DC 20 Dex save or get  (4d8)[ 21 ]  radiant damage


[User]
 After six long weeks, this morning the crew of the  Peregrine  sighted land to the west. A few hours later, the  Peregrine  sails into a natural bay with a sandy beach within rowing distance for the ship's boats. As the crew begins to untie one of the smaller boats to lower it into the water, the sailors pass a spyglass among themselves and finally hand it back to the captain.  Captain Jacob Markosi  peers at the island for a moment before grunting and handing the spyglass to the expedition leader  Ramona Avandth .  "You should see this,"  he says quietly.

Ramona accepts the spyglass and peers toward the shore. When she lowers the scope, she is clearly distressed but trying to hide her worry. She approaches and motions toward the far side of the deck, away from where most of the other colonists have congregated.  "Can I have a word with you?"  she asks.
 TAG: Bjorn (Kvard51), Guillerme (CasualViking), Tsalith (HappyMerecat), Lucia (Estralita), Vash (Lionheart), Crisana (theasl)

 Spoiler: OOC: Casting
I always like to try to picture certain characters in my head as portrayed by an actor/actress.
 I see  Ramona  as  Natalie Dormer
and  Captain Markosi  as  Ethan Hawke

[User]
 Tsalith

Tsalith stood at the edge of the deck of the Peregrine, looking at the new alien shore.  He stood resplendent in his full armour with the colourful Flyt on his shoulder.
He peered at the spot that Ramona'a attentionwas draw to by the Captian.

 Spoiler: Crunch
Tsalith's Perception  (1d20+6)[ 25 ]
Flyt's Perception  (1d20+9)[ 16 ]

[User]
 Guillerme
  "No problem, boss!  " Guillerme says to Ravona, and eagerly stands at attention, looking not entirely unlike an enthusiastic puppy.

[User] Crisana has just popped up from a swim by the ship when Ramona calls a group of the new colonists over, seeming worried.   "What's the matter, is something wrong?"

[User] Lucia sauntered over with a smirk dancing on her lips, the picture of careless confidence.  "What goes on?"

[User]
 Tsalith

Tsalith walks over and joins the others.]

[User]
 Seeing the look of concern on Ramona's face, Vash stops her default annoying whistling, and sidles over to join the others. She is still smirking as she addresses the sailor.
 "Have as many words as you need, I've got plenty to spare."

[User]
 Six weeks at sea.  Bjorn wasn't sure how he felt about that.  It had been miserable, for the first few days, anyway.  Everyone was sicking up and cursing.  But after the initial bouts of sea-sickness, the rhythyms of the ship had settled into an easy ebb and flow.  During that time, he'd developed a few relationships.  You might even call them friends, although he tended towards being slow to trust.  But they seemed goodly folk.  Their plan was to go ashore together and see where fortune led them.  Or that was his plan and he thought they were in agreement.  Bjorn decided he had rather enjoyed the six weeks, all in all.

His revery was broken by Ramona's approach, his friends in tow.  Her question, particularly the serious tone with which it was asked, caused a small turnover in his stomach.  Questions like this always means something serious.

 "Your request is my heart's desire, expedition leader."   He says, smiling.  But the smile is only to hide the hint of unease he was suddenly feeling...

[User]
 "We have a problem,"  Ramona says as she ushers the six of you away from a group of colonists peering over the railing of the ship. She doesn't let the worried look on her face remain as they approach,
 giving them a kind greeting as you walk.

 "Something is... wrong. Nobody's in sight. There's no smoke from cook fires or the smithy. Some of the buildings look burnt out."  She passes a spyglass around for those interested in looking.

 Spoiler: OOC: Tsalith
You can see, with the aid of the spyglass, that what Ramona is saying is 100% true.

Ramona keeps her voice low while trying not to be too conspicuous.  "Sailors can't keep their mouths shut. Soon, all the other colonists are going to hear about this --- if they can't see for themselves already ---"  She gives a slight glance over her shoulder at the shore far from them.  "--- and things could become... tense. I need the six of you to go ashore and investigate. For the good of the colony..."
 TAG: Bjorn (Kvard51), Guillerme (CasualViking), Tsalith (HappyMerecat), Lucia (Estralita), Vash (Lionheart), Crisana (theasl)

[User]
 Tsalith

Tsalith nods seriously.  His mind immediately moves to Arla.  if the colony is in trouble, then so is she.  " Of course I will go. "
He then looks to the thrush on his should, but before he can speak the bird takes to wing and begins to fly toward the shore to scan the settlement from a closer point.  He does not get too close but scans for any clues.

 Spoiler: Crunch
Flyt's Perception  (1d20+9)[ 21 ]

[User]
 Lucia nodded and gave a half-mocking, half-serious salute.  "As you wish, my lady.
"  But as she glances towards the settlement, she grasps her sword, and her mouth tightens

[User] "Right away, we'll let you know if we find anything"  , Crisana replies as she prepares to head back into the water. The colony missing? The trip over had been quite boring, for her at least, but it seems like that's about to be balanced out soon enough.

[User] "As it is written, hard work is for all, but the glory of the Colonist is earned through danger and troubles. Blessed is he who in the time of need lends a stout hand."   Guillerme dashes off to gather his equipment. A few worried colonists try to question him, but he softly brushes them off with platitudes about not expecting an easy life.

[User]
 Vash tries her hardest not to smile at the news. Obviously she didn't want anything  bad  to have happened to the colonists, but this sounded like a story, and one that she could at last be the centre of.

 "'Courage' he said, and pointed toward the land." She whispered to herself as she moved towards the side of the ship. In a louder voice, she addresses her other companions, "Do we fancy a swim? Or shall we take a boat?"

[User]
 Missing?  How does a colony go missing?   "Is it possible the navigator brought us to the wrong location?  A missing colony doesn't make much sense.  Nevertheless, I'll be glad to take a look,
 if only to stretch these legs a bit.  I'll get my things.

[User]
 Tsalith

Tsalith looks a bit annoyed the gnomes suggestion and looks at his heavy armor.  " Lets take the boat, I don't think we all want to be soaked and it is likely faster. "

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC: Flyt's Perception
Flyt is faster than most of the party members, and his result shows no visible tracks in the sand leading to the colony from the dock. All he can perceive from the buildings he flies over is utter silence.

  "I am going to ask Captain Markosi to sail north along the island's coast to the secondary landing site. Originally, it was supposed to be used as an alternative spot to found a colony. Though after the founding of Talmandor's Bounty, it was to be used as an emergency extraction point should anything happen to assail the first wave of colonists."  Ramona explains.  "You know: natives, local fauna... local flora..."

She looks over her shoulder and barks at a couple of sailors.  "Prepare a longboat to go ashore."  Her index and middle fingers point together towards the visible dock far from where the  Peregrine  is anchored. The sailors nod and quickly rush to the side of the ship as they start to prepare one of the boats, large enough to carry at least eight people comfortably, though two would have to row.

[User]
 Vash smirks as Ramona calls for a longboat, and nods at Tsalith.  "Boat it is then, you don't mind rowing do you?"  she gestures to her skinny arms,  "I'm not really built for it."

She then turns to Ramona, the mention of local flora and fauna have piqued her naturalist tendencies.  "I don't suppose you have any information about what sorts of things live around here? Out of academic curiosity..."

[User] Ignoring the others' comments and complaints, Crisana slips back into the water near where the longboat will be launched from the ship. She knows that strange things lurk in the deep around the lost continent - perhaps it would be wise to keep an eye out underwater while the others keep watch above.

[User]
 Tsalith

Tsalith boards the longboat as it is readied and takes up position at an oar.

[User]
 Guillerme

Guillerme swings into the longboat and grabs an oar. He looks around, and says, softly: " We may me heading into danger. Will you join me in a brief prayer to Erastil while we row? ".

[User]
 "Prayer seems like a good start.  I will man the tiller, if no one objects?"

Bjorne strides quickly to the stern of the small vessel, and bows his head.

[User]
 Once the others are in the boat, rowing towards shore, Crisana dives down to swim under, watching for any signs of strange underwater activity.

 Spoiler: ooc
perception  (1d20+7)[ 8 ]  (ouch)

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC:
Sorry for the absence all. I'll be moving the story along, and hopefully we hear from the other players.
 If need be, they will be on "autopilot" until we get into anything serious.

Will be editing this shortly.

[User] Lucia, having hopped into the boat, craned as far as she could without tipping the boat or falling out. From so far away, everything ashore looked so peaceful, and yet...


[User]
 EPISODE I:
  Through a dark woods lie the ruins of an ancient keep. Local rumors say that a catacomb beneath the keep contains long-lost treasures --- but diabolical monsters have lately infested the ruins. The treasures might still be safe, but certainly not for much longer.

You've departed your homes in Dunblane with enough provisions to take you almost a hundred miles away. The trek through the forest would be slower by bringing beasts of burden, but the option was still available should you decide to do so.

An old, worn path barely makes it through the overgrown areas, but it is enough to keep you on track and serve as a landmark should you get lost.

Your group has come to rest within the first forested area just outside of the town after a long days march. Camp has been set up and you begin your first watch.

 Spoiler: DM to Players
Who is on watch? Are you splitting them into even watches or just First and Second?
 I need a d100 roll from anyone on watch, please.

[User]
 Beltin is smiling as the group makes camp. It is good to be on the road again. He had never been particularly comfortable remaining in one place for long.

The tall man dresses well, preferring fine clothing and plenty of color. At present, he is wearing a set of well maintained scale mail over a light grey tunic, and a deep blue cloak with silver trim hangs from his shoulders.

While tying up his mule, a sturdy thing by the name of Stamper, he asks his companions, "So! Who wants first watch? I assume no one else wants last. As you know I like starting my day out watching the stars anyways."

 Spoiler: OOC
Watch roll as requested
 (d100)[ 49 ] Well, that is thoroughly... average, not sure if that is good or bad.

[User]
 Aethyr is willing to take 1st watch. He sets up his sparse bedroll near the fire, sits down in a kneeling position and starts eating his gruel, facing away from the fire, eyes scanning the twilight woods for any sign of movement. As soon as he's done eating, he starts pacing the perimeter of the campsite, careful to keep his eyes away from the fire.

He is a tall, gaunt teenager with cord-like muscles, wearing neat, but obviously home-spun and undyed monk's robes of natural grays and browns. He keeps a shortbow at hand, with a quiver of arrows at his waist.

 Spoiler: OOC
I assume we will have even watches so everyone can get a full night rest. Random encounter roll:  (1d100)[ 17 ]
In case a perception is needed (+10),  (1d20+10)[ 19 ]

[User]
 Aellyna, being deaf, probably should not watch alone. She therefore joins Aethyr on the first watch.

Aellyna looks like a teenager with pale skin, white hair and lithe body. But, well, as a sylph, her actual age is much more than that (don't ask though). Aellyna wears sky-blue martial art robes, not too different from what's usually called monk robes.  Gentle breeze seems to surround her as she talks around.

She keeps a wakizashi readied in her right hand, and keep gesturing with her left hand as she walks around the campsite: she casts  detect magic  from time to time, silently, adding a weird layer of security to the watch.

 Spoiler: OOC

I'll edit this post if we somehow manage to agree on a different watch assignment scheme.
 (1d100)[ 6 ]

[User]
 OOC: I have slightly forgotten which game this is. Was I the Gnome Summoner with the Giant Hamster?
Edit: Yes, I was.
Filnut decided to take last watch. He was always a morning person, and he didn't see that well in the dark. He scratched his Eildon, Lord Qurrball, and lay down on its back.

Filnut is short, with scruffy blond hair and hazel eyes. He wears a light blue robe with silver accents.
1d100 roll:  (1d100)[ 79 ]

[User]
 "  I suppose I'll take second watch, then  ", Elamaer chimes in. The elf has ditched his usual burgundy cape for a drab green full cloak, and his usual tights and ruffled shirt for practical (but well-fitted) breeches, tunic and vest. "  I have mending and cleaning spells if any of you need it  ".
Elamaer is of slim but muscular build, with long silvery hair in a ponytail. The younger adventurers from Dunblane probably only know him as a tailor and magical dabbler; the older ones remember his past as "The Incinerator". He is wearing leather armor, with a longsword on his belt.

[User] Aethyr's face flashes a quizzical look at Elamear to quickly to register. Aethyr wonders to himself how one would build any character if they relied on spells to do all the work. Must be an elf thing. There is to much that he doesn't know yet!

[User] Aellyna brings out pen, ink and a sheet of paper and writes down everyone's self-assignment.

[User] Beltin undoes his chain mail, setting the heavy bit of armor to the side and stretching his back. He'll help get the rest of the camp set up, and cook a bit of supper over a small fire before looking to retire to his own bedroll. He chats amiably with the others, just small talk for the moment.

[User] Zonk is off a ways, cleaning his gun. He isn't that social.

[User]
 First Watch
  Aethyr  and  Aellyna  enjoy a somewhat peaceful watch, though midway through, a howl comes from the distance. Aethyr hears the creature as Aellyna notices it and two others like it approaching the camp in a pack-like formation.

The earless, panther-like beasts snarl as the skin on their faces begin to twitch and peel back, revealing bone and muscle underneath. They slowly pace around the edge of your camp, keeping their eyes on the two of you.

[User]
 Have Aellyna read about this kind of panther beast before?

 Spoiler: Rolls!

Knowledge(Arcana):  (1d20+7)[ 22 ]

[User]
 Originally Posted by ahyangyi
 Have Aellyna read about this kind of panther beast before?

 Spoiler: Rolls!

Knowledge(Arcana): [roll0]

 She has!  Krenshar  are rumored to lurk within the Weyrwood. You know that they hunt in packs, can hunt by scent, and have the ability to frighten others by peeling back the skin on their faces!

I will also need  3 Will Saves  from the two of you (one for each Krenshar, as they are individual creatures). Followed by  initiatives .

[User]
 Books can help you a lot. However, it cannot replace adventuring experience -- no matter how much you have read about the krenshars, as long as you are still inexperienced, you are prone to be frightened at the sight of them.

 Spoiler: Rolls

Will save x3
 (1d20+4)[ 17 ]
 (1d20+4)[ 6 ]
 (1d20+4)[ 7 ]
Init
 (1d20+0)[ 7 ]

[User]
 Spoiler

Will Saves:
 (1d20+7)[ 8 ]
 (1d20+7)[ 23 ]
 (1d20+7)[ 15 ]
Initiative:
 (1d20+8)[ 21 ]

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC:
 A lovely map made with Dungeonographer to help lay out the combat. Pick a bedroll in which you were sleeping or stationed near. Each square equals 5 feet.

Also, pictures of said beasties.

  Aelynna : Upon seeing a krenshar for the first time, you knew what to expect from your readings. However, the sight of two others was certainly too much for a first time adventurer. You are  PANICKED .

 Aethyr : It wasn't so much the sight but the noise the first one made that  FRIGHTENED  you, but you steel yourself and your resolve against the others.

 Spoiler: OOC: Initiative Order
Aethyr (21), Krenshar (19), Krenshar Alpha (11), Aelynna and Krenshar (7, 7)

[User]
 Aellyna is so panicked that she drops her wakizashi and flees towards the center of the camp. She screams and is unable to act due to sheer fear.

(OOC: Aellyna was bed 1. She was on watch though.)

[User]
 Aethyr hadn't seen anything that looks like that... thing. He yells, fleeing through camp then down the path and away from the krenshar with his mind racing in overdrive, unable to come up with a plan on how to deal with them.

 Spoiler: OOC
Bed 6, but was on patrol around the campfire.

[User] Spoiler: OOC: Where the Krenshar Things Are

[User]
 Bolting up at the sound of screams, Beltin grabs his shield and utters a quick prayer. A faint burst of divine light radiates out from the cleric, settling onto his companions.

 Spoiler: OOC
Bless spell, affects all allies withing 50' For the next minute, they add 1 to attack rolls and saving throws. Hopefully that can make the difference here.

Beltin would not have been able to sleep in his armor, so AC is unfortunately all the way down to 14 right now.

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC: DM observation
 With Aelynna fleeing as fast as she can, and Aethyr fleeing as well, the initiative is still followed somewhat here.

Aelynna goes first (or last). Aethyr has taken his turn to run to the far end of the camp.

 Krenshar 1
   The first beast watches as the girl shrieks and flees, bounding towards her with the intent to pounce. It pays no initial mind to the cleric as it moves past him to engage the girl.

 Spoiler: OOC: Beltin
You get an attack of opportunity against the one moving past you, then you will need to make a save since you already took your turn to cast a spell and wake up. Only one  Will Save  because you can only see the one.

[User]
 Still unsure of exactly what was going on, Beltin strikes out as one of the weird creatures dashes by him.

 Spoiler: OOC
Attack  (1d20+3)[ 19 ]   (1d8+3)[ 9 ]
Will  (1d20+6)[ 21 ]

[User]
 The creature takes a mighty hit from  Beltin 's morningstar, nearly reeling from the attack.
 It lets out a horrid yelp, the cleric unaffected by it's horrifying appearance. Slowed in its pursuit of  Aelynna , it manages to make it to her, but is unable to attack this turn.

 Spoiler: DM to ALL:
The yelp of the creature, combined with the screams of comrades is enough to wake up  Elamaer, Zonk,  and  Filnut . Roll initiatives and tell me what sleeping bag you are in.

 Krenshar Alpha
  The larger of the three stalks towards the campsite, moving just next to  Spot 2  (whoever that may be) as it snarls and nudges the blankets to get a better look at its prey...

... it is now  Aelynna's turn.

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC
 (1d20+1)[ 18 ]  for Initiative. I'm in sleeping bag 2.

[User]
 Elamaer

 Spoiler: OOC
Initiative:  (1d20+3)[ 21 ] . I am in bag #4.

[User] Still panicked, Aellyna withdraws towards the general direction of her party.

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC:
Updating our map a little bit to show our current movements.

 Krenshar 2
  The animal lets out a terrifying howl and bounds towards  Beltin , gnashing its teeth in order to get ahold in an attempt to trip.

 Spoiler: Krenshar 2 vs Beltin
 (1d20+4)[ 18 ]

[User]
 Elamaer the Incinerator

Elamaer pulls his sleeping mask up around his forehead, annoyed at the noise. He gasps when he sees the horrid creatures, bolts upright, and strides towards the one chasing Aelynna with a look of grim determination, as a gout of flame washes over the monster and lights up the clearing for a moment.

 Spoiler: actions
stand up, 5' step south-east (from sleeping bag #4), Flame Arc on the Krenshar chasing Aelynna. Damage  (1d6+3)[ 7 ] , reflex DC 13 for half.

[User] Hearing his friends join in battle, and safely away from the immediate danger, Aethyr turns around to join combat, head shakes in confusion, turns around again to flee, then turns around to face battle. (Ends in the same square).

[User] I awakening to the sights of chaos, and hastily cast Mage Armor on myself.

[User]
 Beltin charges after the Krenshar he wounded before it can bring more harm to Aellyna, striking out with his morningstar again. He yells out, "Rise and Rally!"

 Spoiler: OOC
I don't think it is my turn, but lets get this moving again shall we?
+2 to hit, -2 AC for one round from charge attack
 (1d20+5)[ 9 ]
 (1d6+3)[ 7 ]


[User]
 You’ve been wandering for a long time.

The home you once held is dead. The kingdom that was once yours is in ruin. Despite what you once believed, long ago, the kingdom could not live without it’s government. Your great grandmother united your home from the thousands of warring kingdoms, into the sole home that remains.
That does not mean you have been idle, these last 17 years. Far from that- You have learnt. You have trained. And now, look at the woman you have become. A vagabond knight.

The small village of Insmith is a troubled village. The villagers have been disappearing into the night. Perhaps this is a good area to try your life. Perhaps, just perhaps, you can help these people.


[User]
 All of you have been a group of mercenaries for a few years now. You've had quite wild adventures here in Ferelden, and the last one deposited  you in the little town of Haven.

 Spoiler: The Past Year
The blight ended about a year ago when an elven mage plunged spellfire down the archedemon's throat. More on this later.

[User]
 When Valornor has time off.  He likes to spend it in the woodlands, outside of the walled village of Haven.  In western Ferelden, on the eastern slopes of the Frostback Mountains.
 http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Haven

The layout below doesn't seem to come close to matching the picture up above.  So I don't know what the deal was with that.  As for the numbers on the layout.  I looked, but couldn't find a map key for it anywhere.  So I guess 2 & 3 go together,  Same with 4 & 5.  As well as 6, 7 & 8.  How about we say that the building that is to the most upper right portion of the layout is the Haven Inn with it's small attached stable.   Where the PCs are staying.  Does that sound good?  I hope so, as I added it to the layout.

The Inn's not a perfect fit.  But I think it will work well enough.  Again, there was no available key.  I think you should beable to figure everything out well enough.  The original is suppose to have a second floor.  But I think in a out of the way place like Haven.  The rooms on the single floor is plenty enough.

[User] Valornor also checks the Chanter's Board at the Chantry, on a regular basis to see if there are any jobs posted there for him and his companions.

[User]
 Masarian will usually be found down at the lake in quiet contemplation or at the inn helping care for the horses that are stabled there.

While he is still a bit leery about being around humans, even after all this time, Masarian usually ends up telling stories to the local children. Between the kids and animals, Masarian has found a group who doesn't judge based on appearance or social standing.

If not at either of those places, Masarian has been known to visit the chantry looking at the board or at the inn, where he takes his meals.

[User]
 Masarian makes his way over to the chantry and quietly walks inside.  Looking around he hopes to find out information on the rumors of the job.

"  Have you heard anything about the templars recruiting for an excursion westward  "

[User]
 Ever since they had reached the small village on the slopes of the Frostback Mountains, Hrala had grown quieter and grumpier than usual. She should've protested when they had decided to go west to Haven, Hrala thought. It was too close to home, former home, she reminded herself, and with it came a lot of painful memories about her failings. Aside from brooding alone somewhere in the Inn, she had made some coin on the side by breaking up fights at the Inn between drunken fools and trained some young men and women basic swordplay.

The prospect of joining up with some Templars to go further west, sat alright with her.

[User]
 Originally Posted by Squadfather42
 Masarian makes his way over to the chantry and quietly walks inside.  Looking around he hopes to find out information on the rumors of the job.

"  Have you heard anything about the templars recruiting for an excursion westward  "

The mother there said:  I have recieved a few letters that this church would be used as a base of operations by some Knight-Commander, but the letters arrived weeks ago.

[User]
 "  Thank you holy one. I'll find my friends and let them know.  "

Masarian then leaves the Chantry and goes in search of his fellow mercenaries.

[User]
 Valornor gathered with his fellow mercenaries, Hrala and Masarian.  Back at the Haven Inn.  Hearing Masarian tell of what he learned at the Chantry.  The Dalish scout said.    "One would think this Knight-Commander would arrived well before now if he was coming.  We have already heard news that they've been through Farthing, Frostkeep and Rainesfere.  One only know how long it has taken that news, after the fact, to reach us here in out of the way Haven.  So I think we can safely assume, if the Wardens had plans to come to Haven, those plans were somehow changed.  There is only one route by which a large group of men can move westward.  That is on the road to Orlais at the northern end of the Frostback Mountains.  An the most likely place where one would gather in such large numbers for such a venture.  Would be at the Gates of Orzammar.

I propose we three and anyone else from here in Haven who wishes to join use.  Take the rest of this day to prepare.  Then rise at the crack of dawn on the morrow.  An after a hearty breakfast,  set out northward.  Along the western bank of the Grey Deer River.  Until it turns westward into the mountains. Crossing the summer heat lowered river, we will continue north to Frostkeep from there. Then on to the Gates of Orzammar.  What say the both of you to that?"

[User]
 Originally Posted by Wulfnor
 Valornor gathered with his fellow mercenaries, Hrala and Masarian.  Back at the Haven Inn.  Hearing Masarian tell of what he learned at the Chantry.  The Dalish scout said.    "One would think this Knight-Commander would arrived well before now if he was coming.  We have already heard news that they've been through Farthing, Frostkeep and Rainesfere.  One only know how long it has taken that news, after the fact, to reach us here in out of the way Haven.  So I think we can safely assume, if the Wardens had plans to come to Haven, those plans were somehow changed.  There is only one route by which a large group of men can move westward.  That is on the road to Orlais at the northern end of the Frostback Mountains.  An the most likely place where one would gather in such large numbers for such a venture.  Would be at the Gates of Orzammar.

I propose we three and anyone else from here in Haven who wishes to join use.  Take the rest of this day to prepare.  Then rise at the crack of dawn on the morrow.  An after a hearty breakfast,  set out northward.  Along the western bank of the Grey Deer River.  Until it turns westward into the mountains. Crossing the summer heat lowered river, we will continue north to Frostkeep from there. Then on to the Gates of Orzammar.  What say the both of you to that?"

"  Sounds good to me, we have been here to long anyway. I'll start my preparations right away.  "

[User] As the Dalish layed out his plan, Hrala nodded.   "The sooner we get out of this village the better. Maybe there's a trader heading for Orzammar, who wouldn't mind paying us some coin for some professional protection on the road. We sure can use it."

[User]
 In response to Hrala's suggestion, the Dalish scout said.   "Normally that would be a real good idea.  But a trader doesn't move that fast and stops over in every little village and hamlet.  From the sound of it, I think it would be best to get to Orzammar as quick as possible."

The rest of the day and evening Valornor and the others spread word of their plans.  So rising a rooster's first crow, very early the next morning.  They had breakfast and ready to go as the top of the sun began to rise above the eastern horizon.  Will anyone be accompanying them?  Or is it just the three of them heading towards Orzammar?

As was discussed earlier the first leg of their journey will take them from Haven to Frostkeep.  Depending on what they learn there.  Will decide where they go next.

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC
I got myself a random encounter chart, one for each region. This will be the frostbacks, so here is the roll:  (1d100)[ 96 ]

... well dang.

Everyone make me perception checks. If you have the smelling or hearing tags, and them.

[User]
 Masarian looks around the area that they are currently walking in. A sudden shiver rolls through his body and it wasn't from the cold.

"  Something doesn't feel right, we shoild be on guard.  "

[User]
 Masarian is right, although only him and Hrala detect the five darkspawn that jump upon the party. They look like furless werewolves, and they let out a shriek as they charge on the party.

 Spoiler: OOC
Initiative for Shrieks: Dragon die:  (1d6)[ 2 ]
Regular dies:  (1d6)[ 2 ] ,  (1d6)[ 5 ]  + 6

People who saw the darkspawn act on surprise round.


[User]
 Sunset over the great walled city of Baldur's Gate. The breeze off the waters is beginning to chill the air, and most are retreating back to the comfort of indoors as the sky darkens at the end of a long day's work. Close by are the warm and inviting doors of the Elfsong Tavern, only a short walk from the docks and comfortably close to both the Eastern gate and the Watchful Shield, shrine of Helm.

Named for the ghostly voice that used to be heard at night, the Elfsong tavern is busy as usual. A welcoming fireplace is already roaring away and the ale is flowing freely before the majority have even arrived. There is plentiful seating at the moment, and it won't be long before the smell of the cookpot wafts outside to lure more in to part with their daily earnings.

 Spoiler: Player 1

 Spoiler: Player 2

 Spoiler: Player 3

 Spoiler: Player 4


[User]
 painful feelings. Still there are those who do not mind the fact that noleyn maqanthay. For example, they
may hear voices, see things that are not there or  Skin Tek  believe things that are not true. Some think that suicide - some to move to suicide. Some feel angry and aggressive. Some traumatized a single event, such as a car accident and severe. Or stretching problem because, as a person of many years of violation mudaduu child. Many people have problems, and more than once in the face and let For many years, we thought mental health problems would repeat or ways never go away. We now know that many people recover


[User]
 Azur was hurt.
  Azur was wounded.
  Azur was injured.
  Azur was astounded.
  Azur was surprised.
  Azur was afraid.
  Azur was Horrified.

The sky had fallen. A fiery, molted mass crashed into the Aaar Forest, turning it into a flamming hell. The trees were suffering. They were crying into the air. Their screams of dust and ashes spread towards the horizon with the wind.

A wind of Change.

What it meant he didn't know. But that wasn't important.
He had to show.
He had to tell.
He had to explain the Aaar pain to all.
That injury was etched into him.
He hurt. He was Aaar, and he was hurt.

Something new was burning inside him.
For the first time he run.
For the first time since the begining Aaar was left without its guardian.

[User]
 2 hours earlier

 First the explosion.
Them the sirens start.
Around all the ship emergency protocols start taking place. Risk minimization was the most important thing.

From some places emergency pods are launched into the atmosphere.

In the Ventral dorm, the crew is awaken from hypersleep, amidst electrical storms, red lights loud horns, sirens, emergency sounds and explosions.

 To all besides Rose:
 You vomit the liquid that was inside your lungs and are disoriented.

 To    Z eta 826 "Rose":
 Your processor reboots. Again. At least it seems so. The memory coils inside your "brain" are somewhat inacessible. Your synthetic muscles don't respond.  They start to slowly.

[User] Tilda  just manages to put her head out of the chamber before hurling, still spraying the jumpsuit they were wearing for the transfer. Finally, she coughs and tries to get up. She moves clumsily, her body still half-asleep, and her brain overstimulated by being shoved back into reality from the cryosleep, and the load of alerts and other signs of danger. She presses her eyes together, and tries again pushing herself up, succeeds and glances around to grasp the current situation.  "DE-."  another cough, then a second try, this time with a more firm voice.  "DEBRA! What's happening?"  She called out to the voice-controlled information system of the ship, that was supposed to answer to her calling it "DEBRA". Meanwhile she stumbles over to the next cryo-chamber, nearly tripping over, to check the state of the vomiting person there.

[User]
 Kumiko Osugawa
 Kumiko  awakes from the cryosleep like a slumbering bear. Calmly waiting until the lid of her chamber opens, attempting to process the situation before stepping out still fully clad in her armor. "It's not recommended to wear armor inside the chamber during the process, it can damage your tissue..." The engineer told her as she prepared to enter back on Earth. But she waived aside his concerns for her health, knowing full well she could handle the discomfort involved.

Struggling past her muscle weakness and slight disorientation she removes her helmet and vomits up the liquid from her lungs into the container next to her pod, if she wasn't genetically enhanced she'd never make it to the container. She'd end up vomiting on the floor like most everyone else, cryosleep really was poorly designed.

 Truth is she wanted her armor on because she had to be prepared. She had to be ready for any circumstance, and it seems her intuition didn't fail her. Her skin burned with a dull pain like fire but her suit told her it was nothing serious, a side effect of going under in armor.

Then she springs into action as best she currently can. Donning her helmet once again she wills herself to ignore the disorientation and begins rallying the other crew as she helps them out of their pods,  "Come on! Hurry up! This is an emergency, follow plan of action Zeta 342! Get to your stations!"

[User] Rose boots, slowly for a robot, taking roughly 30 seconds. She jerks into motion, thoughts a rapid-fire chain.    Crew in danger-unknown emergency-atmosphere breathable-hostile lifeforms absent-mechanical failure probable-assess situation    She crawls forward, testing each limb before standing. She looks around to identify her location -corruption in memory banks likely- and to spot any crew.

[User] Reynold Hughes  pops out of the cyro tank, fists raised and at the ready. His head is swimming, fists are bobbing, vision blurring. Just like the old days in the pub.  "Whose ther..."  is all he gets out before his words are replaced with liquid. He collapses to the floor just outside the tank, coughing and sputtering. He groans and crawls along the floor, trying to get his head to stop spinning. He leans up against another tank, and jumps in surprise when it opens, ejecting another disoriented, spewing lifeform. The surprise dislodges the last remaining remnant of liquid from his lungs, and coughing one last time his head begins to clear. He stands up, and finally notices the flashing lights and blaring alarms.  "Well this can't be good..."

[User] Ford shoves his way out of the cryo-pod along with Dog, the pair of them retching the vile fluid that had filled the pods out of their lungs. He lashes out with a kick, wincing as his unbooted foot hits the hard metal of the pods frame, but succeeds in moving the lid to the pod far enough out of the way for both himself and Dog to scramble out and fall to the floor.  "Mackrell is clear!"  he gasps.  "Can anyone see people still stuck in their frellin' pods?"

[User]
 Looking around, the scenario is one of destruction. In the ceiling the refrigeration pipes are broken and clouds of cold steam pour out of them. The central computer that controls the cryosleep process seems broken as electrical arcs jump from it towards the air.

Smoke from other compartments enter through cracks and under the door.

Around you several people are down in the ground still disoriented from the ordeal. As memories start coming back you know that this Cryo hold, has 16 places.

There is another hold down two levels in the ship.

DEBRA is silent and doesn’t answer any voice.

All the 16 chambers are open but only six of you are out. Four moving, two still unscounscious.

 To Rose
 You’re in the power chamber, near the massive ship’s engines motivators. The central engineering bay is near and to the sides there are the escape pods. Above and below there are the crew chambers.

[User] Tilda  quickly crouches next to the disoriented, bracing herself by putting one knee on the floor. She still tries to shake off her own disorientation, when she checks the subjects for important life functions, putting them in better positions if required. After all, being ripped out of cryo without following the exact procedures was dangerous.  "You go and find out what's going on, I'll tend to them."  In that moment, she was not sure if the mentioned protocol wanted her to tend to those people or go to sickbay or whatnot, it was just too much to process.  "See if you can enable the emergency intercom!"  When she's done by the people on the floor, she continues to those in the chambers. Apparently, she has chosen the approach where you first help those who can be "easily fixed", so that they can support further tasks.

[User]
 Spoiler: Rolling for First Aid

Dice pool 6, compatible trait -> 7. Rolling 5 dice.
 (5d6)[ 5 ][ 5 ][ 5 ][ 1 ][ 5 ](21)
Dice pool stays 6 (gaining one, losing one).

[User]
 After a quick examination,  Tilda  rushes over to the wall compartment, punching against the mechanism to release the simple first aid kit. For most of the others all help would be too late. But one would most definitely make it, while the other's life signals were very weak. A moment later, she kneels next to the weaker patient. Her finger glide through the rudimentary equipment in quiet routine, retrieving the combitube, as they had done in several simulations, and also in a considerably smaller number of real events. She takes a short moment to focus herself, and then starts the intubation process, followed by CPR.   Come on.   She doesn't feel the sweat trickling down her face, fully focused on her task, the outside world completely shut off her mind.   Breath!

Minutes later, she sits leaned against one of the cryo chambers, panting, exhausted, sweat running down her face, still unable to grasp the complete situation. But at least she had just saved a life. The two survivors were stable.

[User] Rose strides towards the bottom crew compartment, having more crew there were more likely to be survivors. She checks on the way on the escape pods, making sure that they were unobstructed and not taken.


[User]
 Brysen Mock
The river flows over you, dancing coyly. Its current swirls around your body, coming to life as it passes over your skin, playfully gliding across intricate tattoos and scars from years ago, from your life before the cabin in the wilds, the field of forget-me-nots by the river through the mountains. It is a life you have no memory of, nor concept of what may have occurred. Magic swirls freely from your fingers, the unfiltered powers of the realm of dreams, the blue tendrils of the fae. The Spirit of the River flows out from these tendrils, appearing before you. She smiles her regular, serene smile, her smooth features rippling softly, as though pulled by their own currents. Her formless figure vanishes as you surface, refreshed by magic. You clamber onto the banks of the meandering river, and get your bearings.

You don your robes in the wide expanse of bright blue flowers amidst the green grasses, massive green hills like burial mounds surrounding on all sides, seeming to reach up the low-hanging stormclouds above, swirling and preparing for a dance of lightning and rain. You race towards your cabin in the middle of the clearing, reveling in the feel of the wet grass on your bare feet. The cabin is little more than a dilapidated shack, made of half-rotted oak, but it is more than enough for you. It keeps you and your books safe from the elements. However, standing by the door, as ominous as the clouds up above, there is a scarlet robe, hung on broad, powerful shoulders, a figure of at least 7 feet. As you slow your approach, it speaks, its voice harsh and powerful, scolding and demanding.

"Brysen. You were not in your cabin." Before you can interject, it continues. "I do not know what you are trying, boy, but I do not take failures like this lightly. I am your keeper, not your mother." The figure turns, revealing her sharp features you recognize, her grey skin a dreary reflection of the sky above. She's staring into you with crystal blue eyes, cold and heartless, into your soul. She reaches for her belt, producing a metal dagger and throwing it to you. You catch it as she produces another dagger. "Now, Brysen. Let us begin. Strike me, if you can."

 A voice in your mind tells you you should check your Journal.

[User]
 Originally Posted by Maloney
 "Brysen. You were not in your cabin." Before you can interject, it continues. "I do not know what you are trying, boy, but I do not take failures like this lightly. I am your keeper, not your mother." The figure turns, revealing her sharp features you recognize, her grey skin a dreary reflection of the sky above. She's staring into you with crystal blue eyes, cold and heartless, into your soul. She reaches for her belt, producing a metal dagger and throwing it to you. You catch it as she produces another dagger. "Now, Brysen. Let us begin. Strike me, if you can."

 A voice in your mind tells you you should check your Journal.

Brysen picks up the dagger and looks at the weapon, watching the light play along its length. He looks up at the Figure, meeting her eyes, his own blue eyes a different shade, the colour of the River. He could see them in the blade. He looks from the Figure to the blade, to the River and to the Graveyard Mountains behind, his entire world. He can feel the River coursing through him, his hammering heartbeat in his ears.

He hefts the blade, feeling its weight. He throws it - into the ground beside him, looking calmly back at the Figure without saying a word, watching for what it would do.

[User] The figure smacks you with the side of its blade. Roll a dex save to evade.

[User]
 Originally Posted by Maloney
 The figure smacks you with the side of its blade. Roll a dex save to evade.

Brysen is unsurprised when the Figure attacks him, even unarmed. It was ever thus, the Figure's cold rage against Mock's stubborn refusal to engage beyond reacting.

  Dex Save  - (1d20+1)[ 19 ]

[User] You dodge dutifully, and the figure maintains its emotionless stare. "I recommend you grab that dagger. I doubt you will dodge my next attack."

[User]
 Brysen grabs the dagger as instructed and waits for her to strike, not betraying a hint of a smile or any emotion. He is trying hard to master himself, to refuse to give the Figure any more than the bare minimum.

OOC - Take dodge action / parry with the dagger.

[User]
 The figure sighs, and brings their dagger down on you. You parry it with ease, and, with rapid speed, she changes direction, smacking your abdomen in the side with the blade, putting you on the ground.

"Strike me."

[User]
 Originally Posted by Maloney
 The figure sighs, and brings their dagger down on you. You parry it with ease, and, with rapid speed, she changes direction, smacking your abdomen in the side with the blade, putting you on the ground.

"Strike me."

Brysen digs his hand into the earth, feeling its coarse texture and its potential.   Not yet   he thinks to himself and then springs up into a running tackle, aiming at the Figure's midriff, putting all the frustration and loneliness he could muster into the act.

  STR check  - (1d20+2)[ 17 ]


[User]
 This is a journal for all your active quests, as well as an archive of every piece of lore you find in the world. This first post will be updated regularly, and you can use it as a guide if you forget what you're doing or as a reference if you forget names, as well as a resource to read if you want a little more information about the world.

 Character Sheet

 Spoiler: Places

 The Cabin:  A ramshackle hut where you have lived alone for a long time, and, as far as you can remember, have never left.

 The Graveyard Mountains:  A series of sloped mountains that contain the River and the field in which you live.

 The Great Forest:  A massive, unexplored forest in the Graveyard Mountains on the Southern end of the valley.

 Spoiler: People

 The River Spirit:  A spirit that lives in the River. You meet her almost daily, where she grants you the ability to perform magic. You have not communicated more than an exchange of smiles, but you believe you are friends.

 The Figure:  A large, powerful, and mean woman. She has taught you almost everything you know, except magic (which you taught yourself, and she has no apparent knowledge of). You have never had a conversation with her before, but she arrives every single day to teach you and scold you for something. The last you saw her was outside the cabin.

 The Wee Free Men:  A group of incredibly small tribals who live in the Forest.

 Spoiler: Beastiary

 ???:  Unknown creatures that glow green, and move rather slowly.

 Spoiler: Active Quests

Survive

 Survive your journey.

The Glow

 Investigate the aura surrounding you.

[User]
 Thanks!  Immediate notes/questions:

"intricate tattoos and scars from years ago":
I have tattoos and marks from injuries I don't remember.

The figure is training me and appears to be non-human.  Do I recognize the species?  If not, is it because I don't remember any species details or because it is one I have no context for?

On that note, she was buried in 5 ft of earth and was able to get out without trouble.  Did she do this using strength (crawled out) or some sort of power (levitated out)?  Also, does her incredible strength seem to be proportional to her or some sort of magic (like a vampire)?

Do I have any idea how long I have been in this place? Days, months, years?  Did I know magic when I first got here (procedural memory) or did I learn it since?

What is the subject nature of the books in the cabin?  Do they reference people/places? Do they talk about magic?  Do I have more than I can carry?

Did I summon the water spirit?  Is she always there or are there times I can't find her?   Does she ever talk?

My D&D understanding is that anyone can learn wizardry, sorcerers get magic from their blood line, clerics from their god and warlocks from their patrons.  Does the wizard part seem true to Esra?  Does it seem reasonable for him to believe that he could teach someone else (like the figure?)?

[User]
 Forget what you know about wizards: this is an original setting.

The River Spirit interacts with you when you enter the river, but she doesn't appear every time. You have no clear track of how long you have been staying here, and let's just say that you remember what you remember.

The figure appeared to drift out of the dirt without effort, almost like levitation.

[User] Sounds good (thanks).  Any details about the books?

[User]
 Originally Posted by charlesrwest
 Sounds good (thanks).  Any details about the books?

The books include a map of the surrounding area and a series of encyclopedic texts, mostly about biology and alchemy.

[User] I feel their lost more keenly.  Where there any towns or settlements marked on the map?

[User]
 Also, do I need to worry about material components?  I don't have a arcane focus or spell components pouch.  If I do, my spell selection will be rather limited (which is OK if so).

I would also like to someone my familiar at some point but by raw that requires: "10 gp worth of charcoal, incense, and herbs that must be consumed by fire in a brass brazier".  It could be limited to once I find some sort of civilization if materials are needed.


[User]
 This is a journal for all your active quests, as well as an archive of every piece of lore you find in the world. This first post will be updated regularly, and you can use it as a guide if you forget what you're doing or as a reference if you forget names, as well as a resource to read if you want a little more information about the world.

 Character Sheet

 Spoiler: Places

 The Cabin:  A ramshackle hut where you have lived alone for a long time, and, as far as you can remember, have never left.

 The Graveyard Mountains:  A series of sloped mountains that contain the River and the field in which you live.

 Spoiler: People

 The River Spirit:  A spirit that lives in the River. You meet her almost daily, where she grants you the ability to perform magic. You have not communicated more than an exchange of smiles, but you believe you are friends.

 The Figure:  A large, powerful, and mean woman. She has taught you almost everything you know, except magic (which you taught yourself, and she has no apparent knowledge of). You have never had a conversation with her before, but she arrives every single day to teach you and scold you for something.

 Spoiler: Active Quests

Survive

 Survive your journey.

[User] Can I ask a clarifying question about the Figure? Have I ever used magic in front of her? How much do I know of her beyond what's in the Journal above? Do I remember every instance of meeting her?


[User]
 Yarl and his allies have begun digging beneath the Volsagi wall, after slipping close undetected using invisibility spells. With him is Chief Gol of the Jorlaskan, a yeti shaman who is weaving magic to create a crawlspace slipping past the enemy defenses. Joining them are Gol's warleader Marcie, another member of the Jorlaskan Clan Ring; Chief Solomon of the Himmiskan, Yarl's old comrade; and Yachi Jadeclaw, a dwarven spy and infiltration specialist in the employ of the New Ulseland Board of Directors.

The group begins to crawl through the space, trying not to make noise an alert the guards at either watchtower some distance away to their left and right. Partway through the tunnel, Yarl feels a strange 'wind' roll through from the north, despite being underground. His limbs tingle slightly and he can feel the Spear of Halvarian, invisible along with him, grow warm against his back.

 Spoiler: OOC
The group now must make Stealth checks to avoid being heard by the guards on the towers.
In Savage Worlds, player characters and major NPCs have a Wild Die which accompanies almost all rolls. This is a separate d6, and you take the better of its result, or your Skill Die's result.
Stealth checks are not opposed unless within close proximity, and so only a result of 4 or higher is required to succeed. So long as enough of the group succeed, they will remain undetected.


[User]
 The riverboat, the Muckraker, trundles down the calm Mississipi. Its a large 2 story paddle wheeler with 2 dozen rooms and a spacious bar on board. While the boat can carry just over 2 dozen passengers, it has just over half a dozen, most of which are happily winding away the time in the boats bar.

 Spoiler: OOC

Standard intro paragraph and just say where you are on the boat.

[User]
 Having ran this far; it was nice to finally get a rest, however brief, from all the running.  Though, he only rested now because he had something to do the running for him:  A boat to tug along the river.  He'd always heard of this river.  Even before the Scouring it was a popular place, though he'd never been this far east before now.  He'd also never traveled so far on foot: this river marked two-thirds/three-quarters from coast to coast.  Heard things about the people hear.  The pre-scouring people anyway.  Now clue what the people hear now are like.  No doubt influences by their predecessors, but by how much?

He stood at the very front of the boat; leaning against the rails, he looked forward.  He liked looking where he was going.  It was knowledge.  Knowledge was safe.  Unpleasant at times, but he was always better off knowing then not knowing.  This meant that he stood with his back to the rest of the boat.  Someone could come up behind him and push him overboard.  If it did happen, it would be a human.  Humans stopped liking him when he stopped being human.  Understandable.  He was different.  Humans don't understand different.  Humans are afraid of what they don't understand.  The light understood.  It helped the humans that followed it to understand as well.  To understand what is different and not to be afraid.  The one also understood, but it's understanding was different.  It understood in broad strokes; where the the light understood each case as its own.  The humans that followed the one claimed their understanding gave them the right to hurt him.  Just because he was different.  Just because was "cursed" as they say.

This train of thought tugged at his mind until he turned around.  No one.  He walked to the wall and leaned against it so he could see where he was going, but no one would be behind him and know it.  The sound of the boat's paddles was rhythmic.  Melodic even.  The sights and sounds calmed him as he gazed south (where he was going).

Someone came to his right, and tried to to talk to him.  It startled him, but the human seemed friendly.

[User]
 It was good to be on a boat again. Adam always felt more at ease on a boat then on land, the gentle rocking as the dark forests rolled by on either side. He'd never been on a ship of this size before, or a river of this size for that matter. He sits in a comfortably chair on the upper deck cleaning his Hall Rifle, always looking up to check his surroundings and other passengers. There was a cursed on board. Adam had seen a enough to know this one seemed different.. He'd seen him scuttling about the foredeck always looking south; shouldn't he know that the he should be watching west instead? If a beast would show itself, it'll most likely be from the west.

Adam finishes cleaning a mechanical piece of his Hall rifle and reassembles it. He takes a sip of a drink from a dirty glass, thinking to himself that its good to be a passenger for once, rather than a deckhand. he rises and walks from the west side of the upper deck to the north, trying to catch a glimpse of the dark scaled cursed; but he didn't seem to be there. Strange, he'd spent nearly all his time there thus far. Still, the gunman stays and keeps an eye on either side of the upcoming river just to be safe.

Andrew was up ahead somewhere... Being coerced somewhere by our bastard father. He could almost feel the pull to the south, like he was willing the boat to paddle faster. He searched every backwater port they'd stopped at for word of a young boy and older man, but none so far. Just people saying they saw them go on south. With a grimace he imagines putting a bullet through his father's eyes but realizes he doesn't even know what he looks like after all these years. Still, the vision is a pleasing one. He remains there, lost in thought, gazing westward.

[User]
 For the hundredth time since the boat left port, Phillip's hand patted his longcoat's interior pocket to ensure the safety of his planned investment. The soft clink of silver on silver was muffled by the heavy leather and cotton overlapping the coinpurse near the young man's heart, in both the literal and metaphorical sense, a small bit of poetry that hadn't escaped Phillip. Not that he was a poet, far from it. His handwriting was atrocious and the only poem he had ever written to a crush back in Missouri was laughed at by its recipient. The reaction didn't exactly encourage further efforts, but his interest in Yates, Angelou and Plath had been rewarded once thus far in the ports the steamer had stopped at on its way down Ol' Miss.

Satisfied, his right hand turned the page on the ancient, worn copy of  Norton's Introduction to Poetry,   more a textbook than a collection, but still heads above any other find he'd made. It was the same chapter on Frost he'd read a hundred times, but presently his mind just wasn't in further dissecting which road might've been taken and its actual importance. Maybe it was the second whiskey he'd had, or the anxious excitement that had been buzzing in his head since boarding the boat, but he just couldn't focus.

Rising from the bar, he slid a copper to the barman and strode out onto the foredeck to get some fresh air. Tucking the leatherbound book into his free coat pocket, the paused to observe the odd Cursed meandering about the prow. Not they weren't all  odd  in some fashion, but this one was shaped differently than most. Taking a deep breath to bolster his courage as much as to draw in the humid, swampy air, Phillip leaned against the railing a few feet away, curiosity getting the better of him. Knowing his instinctual response would seem rude, no eye contact was made as he leaned with arms crossed, forearms resting against the railing.

 "So. You headed down N'awlins way as well? Or just somewhere along the way?"

[User]
 The human asked about where he was going.  He didn't know.  He never knew more than  away .  Away from here, away from there.  Away from those who try to hurt him.  Away from everything he once knew.  It was no more.  Just standing in place would be running away from it all.  Lost to the sands of time.  Time ticked forward without pause.  Without hedence or remorse.  He wished he could see the past again.  He wished a lot of things.  None of them relevant now.  That's what it's always been like.  He'd want something.  Then something else would happen.  He'd learned decades before the scouring that something elses would always happen.  Not even he could stop the something elses.  He came to accept that his actions never changed circumstance.  Not that his actions didn't matter.  They just were never the only thing that had an effect on the world.  Other people lived in it.  He could not control other people.  He does not want to control other people.  People are free to make their own choices; even if they are poor choices.

He expressed his ignorance.  Three little words.  Four, if you count a contraction as more than.  He wanted to add about the running.  That running is all he did any more.  He didn't, though.  Having knowledge was safe.  Giving knowledge was not.

[User] The Muckraker rounds a river offshoot of the Mississippi. From the voice tubes: "We will be arriving in L'eau Noire in about 20 minutes. We will be remaining in port overnight."

[User] He turned and asked if the friendly human was leaving at this port.


[User]
 The gate spins ominously. A succubus hangs seductively around the archmage. Two token squads of lemures await orders, too stupid to do much on their own. Welcome to the cave.

It hadn't always been just a cave - torched Nezumi fortifications attest to that - but now it was; the doorway battered down, collossal splinters of wood and metal alike on the ground where it fell, and no structures left but a simple bridge - the only one to accelerate, not impede, the heroes' passage. Perhaps the new archmage would have to be more careful.

 A map  was laid open on a makeshift desk, describing in no amazing detail the realm of Mundorbis, and the planes in general. The best guess as to their actual location was in No Man's Land, near the borders of Ryuudo and Feuergard, and next to an unnamed oasis settlement which Minax had actually stayed in mere days ago. Probably the first place that anyone looking for her would go to.

Maybe she would torch it first. Maybe not.

[User]
 Minax

First order of business: the Succubus.

With a forceful shrug of her shoulder, Minax pushed the demon away with a sharp side-ways glare.  "Do not touch me again,"  the mage uttered, her smooth voice cold and unmistaken in the reaction the succubus would receive should she ply her wiles in such a fashion once more.

Staring down at the succubus for several long seconds with the reserved intensity only a master of the arcane and braver of the nether could impose, Minax turned away from the downed demon to survey the squalid conditions she now found herself within. Though the Tempest Gate and its connection to the infernal planes was the coveted prize, its surroundings left much to be desired. Having been long forgotten by its creators and left to the corrosive effect of time, what was once a splendid and cavernous chamber primed with exquisite bas-reliefs had sunk into a black-faced, ugly crag.

Pursing her lips, Minax stared at one section whose decrepitude had particularly aroused her ire. What was once a splendor of engineering had become a broken, vine-covered, dust-infected rotting corner, and it silently screamed for change. Raising her right hand in its direction, Minax uttered several words beneath her breath. No sooner had she done so that the smashed earth responded and started to reorganise itself as animated by her will.  The ground beneath the sorceresses feet trembled as stones drew back together, flat earth depressed inwards and a great swathes of earth compacted together with crushing pressure as Minax drew together a temporary throne of stone. Seated upon a staircase, its elevation granted a view over all that would work in this sordid, decaying cave.

Satisfied with her creation, Minax drew herself up the staircase and turned to place her rump upon its seat. Glaring down at the collection of demons, Minax pointed a long finger in the direction of the lemurs - a gesture that many others had taken with them to the grave as terrible magics suddenly sprung forth.

 "I want this place cleaned and mapped."  she stated calmly.

[User] Uk-Regash simply cracked a grin as the demon's wiles were rejected, and asked of the archmage:  "Need I just stand here in guard, or are there any tasks for me to fulfill?"

[User]
 Cleaning the place was grunt work; soon the shattered fragments of doors and barricades were cast out of the room with great aplomb and vague efficiency. Moments later, the succubus returned, having mapped out  the cavern, such as it was .

The two squads of mindless devils stopped and awaited their next orders.

[User]
 Minax

Minax's words to Uk-Regash do not carry the same firm, icy authority that they do when directed at the demons. Instead she seems more...cordially, more accepting of him as someone who wants to be here rather than a creature from the nether that is being compelled by their nature.

 "We're going to need an assessment of what little fortifications we have and capacity for industry,"  Minax spoke quietly to the half-orc,  "for now, secrecy is our greatest defense. But our work here will soon be noticed, either by the opportunistic or the righteous..."

When the succubus returned, the sorceress perked a slender, dark eyebrow,  "running errands for lemures now?"  she commented, reaching over to acquire the scroll it presented.

 "You don't have anything more important to be doing?"

[User]
 " P FFT.  A S THOUGH THEY COULD EVEN DRAW A MAP.  W HY, ARE YOU NOT GRATEFUL FOR MY SERVICE?  A FTER ALL, IT SEEMS AS THOUGH YOU,  I  AND  B ONECRUSHER ARE THE ONLY ONES IN HERE WITH ANY LEVEL OF INTELLIGENCE.  A ND  I  MEAN THAT LITERALLY; LEMURES ARE LITERALLY INCAPABLE OF MAKING ANYTHING LIKE THIS."

The succubus flitted about Minax, careful not to touch her but still obviously interested. Then she smirked.

 " A NYWAY,  I 'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT DEFENCES FOR THIS PLACE.  O BVIOUSLY, YOU'RE A POWERFUL SPELLCASTER, BUT THAT MAY NOT HELP WHEN THE ARMIES OF THE SELF-RIGHTEOUS DESCEND UPON YOU.  W E SHOULD SPEND THIS WEEK BUILDING DEFENCES AND SUMMONING SOMETHING SLIGHTLY BETTER THAN LEMURES TO DEFEND THIS PLACE.  I 'LL NEED, HMM, ABOUT A WEEK TO GATHER A SQUAD OF SOMETHING INTERESTING.  Y OU WOULDN'T BELIEVE HOW DAMNED POLITICAL THE  N ETHER CAN GET AT TIMES.  S O, ON THAT BASIS,  I  WOULD SUGGEST YOU FIND SOMETHING INTERESTING FOR YOU TWO TO DO YOURSELVES WHILE YOU LEAVE THE GRUNT WORK TO THEM AND THE RECRUITMENT DRIVE TO ME."

 Spoiler: OOC
I'd vaguely like to keep the real-time weeks about in line with the in-game weeks, so getting some orders for the lemures and the succubus as well as your own actions for the week might be an idea.

[User] "Understood. I'll also go look for nearby villages, and if possible chat some of the locals up for news. Won't go for intimidation as to avoid causing ruckus."  That being said, Uk-Regash left the room and started performing his tasks, inspecting the place for its defensibility first.


[User]
 Francesca Dumont, feared and reviled across Arandi, was transported across the Winter Courtlands in the dead of night.  The carriage bearing her iron coffin surrounded by a cloud of wrathful baobhan sith, she passed beyond the roads of Caer Gheimhridh and into the high passes.  Into the realm of the Dullahan.  The mists grew ever colder, the road more treacherous, and had she a vantage point to see the mistress of the Iron Gauntlet would have been assailed by a mountainside carved into an avalanche of leering skulls.  At the end of that road waited  Caer Sgrechian, the Tower of Skulls, lair of the Dullahan and grand prison of the Winter Court.  Not until she was deep in its bowels was the lid of her coffin unsealed, the shackles binding wrist and ankle loosened.  Stripped naked by Aeldir shrouded in heavy leathers, shaved bare, she was not allowed rest until the spiral of her Pendrel was found.  Then she was falling, down into the darkest and deepest of Caer Sgrechian's oubliettes.

Time slowed to a crawl in the darkness, broken only by the infrequent deliveries of thick and gritty gruel and water.  All was darkness, the only break in the silence the half-forgotten whisper of the baobhan sith as they circled above her ceaselessly.  But, finally, she was dragged to face her captors.  Leashed and bound, she walked frost-rimed corridors to a circular theater, its center a shallow depression beneath an elaborate iron wheel.  Standing before it, with all the poise of a practiced host at a formal dinner, was the Dullahan.  Shrouded in white leathers that seemed more appropriate for a slaughterhouse, he guided his masked assistants as they affixed Francesca to the wheel, her arms stretched parallel to her body, her legs at a diagonal angle, her head strapped securely into place.  There enough support to hold her, barely, but not without a lingering discomfort.  The assistants disappeared from her sight, and the Dullahan set about readying his tools.

On the theater floor sat a long, high table bristling with all manner of grisly tools, from hammers and hooked pokers to flaying knives and long needles.  The table was flanked on either side by braziers, one holding ruddy coals that rippled with heat, the other a pool of boreal nectar, blue ice bobbing along its surface.  The Dullahan said nothing as he made his final preparations, finally turning his attention away from Francesca towards the operatic box that loomed high in her vision.

  <"Shall we begin, my Lord?">

From the shadows emerged the tall form of Lord Winter, clothed simply and severely in the black of his Court.  He seated himself at the sole chair within the box, a high backed throne in truth, and leaned forwards against the rail.  His eyes met Francesca's, but they were empty.

  <"Who are you?">

[User]
 The search for signs of a Pendrel would prove fruitless for there was none. Through the whole of the process of her dehumanization she was silent though multiple times she had attempted to kill herself when opportunities arose. The practiced hands of the servants of the Winter Court had ensured her demise had been avoided but nonetheless she continued her struggles seemingly immune or simply uncaring to beatings or acts of pain inflicted upon her. Presented now as a spread prisoner little more than flesh before the Dullahan and his lord her eyes communicated a haggard emptiness deeper than any that might have been inflicted in her time within the Winter Courtlands.

<"I am Francesca Dumont, orchestrator of the death of Branwen Morrig,"> she answered with a quietness borne not from shame or fear but malnutrition and long silence.

[User]
 Lord Winter straightened at her answer, his elbows coming to rest on the arms of his throne as his fingers steepled before him.

  <"And how have you accomplished your reign of silent death?  What secrets did you coax from the Old Iron Gauntlet?  And why do they so desire your death?">

[User]
 <"Many questions for an ancient ghost so many say is a wise keeper of secrets. Careful you do not choke on so many questions humbling yourself in ignorance before me. I shall tell you nothing of my hard fought and well earned knowledge."> she turned her head that her neck was exposed and the scar at the base of it could just be seen curving around. Though no pendrel had been found within her the scar spoke of something more.

<"If it is the ancient order of cowards and fools too afraid to use their abilities you wish to discuss I suspect you would be better served in asking them these questions than myself.">

[User]
 Lord Winter smiled, as though the woman's insolence was a gift rather than an insult.

  <"It is the fool who clings to pride rather than admit a lack of knowledge, girl.  I intend to see their Shrouded Lord bound and studied in good time.  But you are my guest now.">

A raised finger was the only signal, yet the Dullahan knew it well.  Moving to his tools, he selected a long curved knife as thin as a scalpel and a blunt device that seemed more at home as a nutcracker than an instrument of torture.  Securing the pliers in a front pocket, he observed Francesca as he approached.  As an artist studying a hunk of raw stone, he took in the fullness of her before selecting his beginning.  Taking her left hand in his powerful grip, a twist sent a crack through her wrist.  Releasing the hand to dangle, he took up his knife and focused in on the pinky finger.  He luxuriated as he flayed the skin from it, dropping paper-thin slivers of bloody skin into the depression in the floor as he peeled the digit like a ripe fruit.  Eventually he reached muscle, and the razor tip of the blade danced along nerves and sinew as tendon and fiber were severed and torn free.  Once only bone remained, the knife vanished and the pliers appeared again, to crack open the waiting finger bones to clatter noisily to the stone floor.  The Dullahan disappeared for an instant, only to return with a burning poker that served to sear shut the wound.

  <"If you wish to leave here without further refinement, you will answer my questions.">

[User]
 If she felt any pain she didn't show it. Her eyes were dead as the flesh was flayed from her finger and she winced only slightly as it was broken and fell to the floor.

<"I don't plan to leave here alive or in any shape of use. I've had my body stolen, returned, and stolen again more times than any should. My mind and my body are no longer one. You may tear this vessel to pieces, shred it with the slow precision of a barbaric simpleton claiming refinement but you do not know torture or pain. Flesh is temporary Lord Winter. The pain your Dullahan knows is merely the fleeting cries of a defunct system begging to be remembered. This form is meaningless. You have captured and strung up a puppet whose strings to the Gauntlet were cut before you even arrived in Kagun.">

<"It is so amusing to read of the Aeldir immortality. Trapped in a single waiting corpse unable to truly experience the full breadth of the world. You do not understand your enemy and never will Lord Winter. I don't doubt you have heard of the simple pendrel who exist and follow the laws of the Shrouded Lord but the true Gauntlet has exceeded that poor fool and with the eye they are unstoppable.">

[User]
 If the woman's barbs drew blood there was no sign on Lord Winter's face.  Simply a small smile.

  <"For one unwillingly used you show a surprising degree of loyalty.  For one willingly used your claims of torment ring hollow.  Which is it, girl?  And what trinket have your puppet masters uncovered that deceives you into believing them invincible?">

[User]
 <"Have you never suffered for what you love and live for Lord Winter? Surely you have Butcher of the Winter Court?> she addressed the Dullahan, <"I discovered the Iron Gauntlet and the Pendrel before any of your kingdoms. I met with their leaders before Anceris purged great thinkers and the Exarch struck deals with old fools who might have faded into obscurity should history have taken a different course. I saw and came to love an ancient race of immortals as Avonlea loves the Aeldir. I knew their purpose and true ability and they saw in me a hope from beyond the petty politics to create something new that would outlast all challengers.">

<"I have hosted the minds of philosophers to rival yourself Lord Winter and killers with skills to put you to shame Dullahan. I have seen histories each the match for a kingdom's greatest sagas. In doing so I was stripped of my mind, pushed down, forced to fight for the very facilities of this body but I fought and learned. So too did I teach and act for even the mightiest and most ancient might learn from the new. Surely it was some new and unknown charm that brought Adelie to your bedchambers Lord Winter? Would you expect your lover, if she still lived, to surrender you to hostile captors? Would she turn on you and betray your intimate secrets? So shall I not. So shall I take these secrets and histories earned by my blood and tears to my final grave knowing the Gauntlet will continue. Its true purpose is death and death comes for all. The gift from death to the Gauntlet proves it, the eye that watches from the flames. You may kill me, you may torture me, but it will be a fruitless effort in the face of an unrelenting force.">


[User]
 You finally get into the village site - now just a collection of debris and demolished buildings rather than a village.

Whole houses where blown from the sides, with splinters of the roof and walls flung several meters away. The former furntire lays on the ground, partly broken and partly smashed.

The grain barn walls where blasted to so far away they are undistinguishable from the rest of the wreckage. The grain itself - result of a whole season of hard work of hundreds of villagers - is spread to the wind, half rotting and the other half sprouting chaotically in the mud.

The cattle stables - poor animals - lays flat on the ground, trampled and crushed. the compressed carcasses of the animals are rotting, with several rats still feasting on them. The only thing those animals could only be used as a dirty carpet now.

Even Ultima Mother's church - a strong, large stone building - was turned to ruble. a large piece of the tower can be seen not far from the church hall and altar, except there is no roof, and the walls all turned to dust

In the village's old trails and roads you instead see massive tracks, as if an enormous wagon draging behind it an enormous load crossed the village back and forth multiple times - spreading destruction at random. Guahiba will never rise from this - the village is lost.

And corpses, blood, limbs missing bodies, churshed armor from valiant but useless defenders - flatened to the ground, trown across the village, and ripped apart right in the middle of the rodas. Only those that left all they had and run away from the village had survived... but from the couting of old Sergion, there should be either more survivors or more corpses in the site.

 Spoiler

former village

current village

  La Máquina Diabolica  the survivors said. Clear tracks to the east and to the west. Chasing this better be worth the title of Baron that Grand Duke Kalvin promissed, but if you are to lord anything other than a pile of rubish, you better make haste - There are only 5 more villages in this region

[User]
 Arthur walks through the razed city and look at it with sadness.
How many have died due this  máquina diabólica  already? Enigma fly in circle around the city and land on its master's shoulder.

" It's really a sad day when the diviner couldnt foresee such a tragedy ", he looks to his friend, " Let's find this infernal machine and destroy it, else we'll rule over rubble and ruins ".

[User]
 Arthur`s Warforged bodyguard, one of the latest warfare and arcane creations of the world, stares blankly at his chrge, waiting for a command that is not given. It was just a remark, scaterred to the wind, the warforged was not requested to consent. the living construct resumes to what it was doing: sticking close to the contract holder and protect him from any danger.

It is a marvel that Arthur`s archmage cusin, Articular the Creator, could improve the construction fo constructs so much in so little time. Open acess to the creation process of warforgeds, for the sake of free information to the pulic, now dosen`t seem to have been the brightest idea.

Arthur's own divination is also quite marvelous, but he simply did not recive any warning from this massacre. By all acounts, this is the fifth village destroyed in only 2 days, form which he knew only about a few hours before.


[User] You stand outside the Caverns of Death. You know what you must do-go inside, and claim the treasure that awaits you. Treasure... Or Death.  Probably death.

[User] So.... Whose checking the door for traps.  Anna asked.

[User]
 That'll be me I suppose.   Leofir approaches carefully, inspecting the surrounding area for any signs of traps being laid.

 Spoiler: Roll
Investigation: [roll0]

[User]
 Investigation
 (1d20+2)[ 16 ]

[User]
 Spoiler: Investigation DC 16
There's a covered pit trap-it should be simple to activate it, dropping part of the floor. It might be possible to stabilize it, stopping it from falling in even when stepped on, but it'd be tricky.

[User]
 Leofir turns back to the rest of the group and addresses them all.  We need to be careful about setting off this pit trap. We should look for a way to stabilize this, especially in case we need to come back quickly.

 Spoiler: OOC
Can I tell how wide the gap would be (basically would it be jumpable)

[User]
 Originally Posted by Asimov91
 Leofir turns back to the rest of the group and addresses them all.  We need to be careful about setting off this pit trap. We should look for a way to stabilize this, especially in case we need to come back quickly.

 Spoiler: OOC
Can I tell how wide the gap would be (basically would it be jumpable)

 Spoiler: OOC
You can skirt the edges-there's about a foot-wide gap between the pit and the wall. The pit itself looks to be about 15' square.

[User] Unkown examines the pit trap from a safe distance.  "  Could we just fill it in with dirt?  Or lay tree trunks or something on top of it to bridge the gap?  "

[User] I believe I like the filling it in with dirt idea.  Anna agrees.

[User]
 Leofir takes a moment to look around at the others and says   Don't suppose anybody has brought shovels?

 Spoiler: OOC
Can I tell how deep the pit trap goes?

[User]
 Originally Posted by Asimov91
 Leofir takes a moment to look around at the others and says   Don't suppose anybody has brought shovels?

 Spoiler: OOC
Can I tell how deep the pit trap goes?

 Spoiler: OOC
Not without opening it.

[User] Leofir adds   Either way, the amount of dirt we would need might make it so we're here all day, if its a deep enough drop. Only way we find out of course is if I spring it...

[User] Unkown pulls out his crowbar.  "  Maybe we pry the door upward with this and take a look inside?  "

[User]
 "  This isn't getting anywhere.  If nobody has an idea for making the trap safe, let's just bypass it and move on.  "  He ties his rope around his waist and hands the other end to his companions.  "  Hold onto this.  If I slip, see if you can pull me up before I hit the bottom.  "  Unkown then walks along the edge of the trap to the other side.

 Spoiler: OOC
Acrobatics to keep my balance on the narrow ledge:  (1d20+2)[ 4 ]

[User] Unknown falls into the trap, cracking open the false floor and revealing a 20' deep pit. He takes  (2d6)[ 7 ]  points of damage from the crushing impact with the ground.

[User]
 Cannon Fodder walks up to the entrance.  "  Now, if you guys had just waited for me to catch up, we could have avoided this.  "  Then the Druid began magically filling the hole with dirt, entombing poor Unkown at the bottom of the pit.

 Spoiler: OOC
Casting Druidcraft over and over until the pit is filled.


[User]
 Stars twinkle and glow as darkness embraces the world. It is told in stories of old that all the stars in the night sky are the lights of all past, current, and future heroes and the blackness that surrounds them are the monsters they face in their lives. But stories are usually far from the truth of real life. Usually.... You may have heard of such stories in the past, but that has mattered little, for now you are training to become such heroes as those of old.

However such stories seem to enter your mind at times like these in the City of Vale. These quiet moments as the streets lay bare. A slight breeze floats through shuffle the few new papers, enacting a mystical long forgotten dance, or simple paper blowing through the wind to a cynic. You see this as the lights of the wide reaching walls shield you from that breezes chilly touch. The windows clear and clean as you sit before them waiting for some allotted hour. A few bags and luggage placed around you as you await for a thundering shrill of sound, a high pitched whistle signaling the train's arrival into the station.

You all sit near or around one another able to see one another though you may or may not be familiar with one another. You are the only ones there at this witching hour in the station. Hoping beyond hope that you will be early for your arrival to Beacon in the following days.

[User] Teddy smiles as he watches the train approach. The steady chug telling him all he needs to know about the hard work put into the machine. He gives Butter a little rub behind the ears to wake him up from his brief nap, in response to which the little St. Bernard pup jumps to attention, running a small figure-8 pattern around and between Teddy's legs. As Teddy stands, his heavy-set frame gently becomes a massive silhouette in the dim light of the station. As he regards his fellow prospective Hunters, Teddy flashes them a brief smile, all warmth and sunshine. Butter barks happily, apparently only just noticing that there are other people here.

[User]
 Emma strikes perhaps a bit of an odd figure there at night. She didn't have much luggage for one, there was a little knapsack slung over her side with some things but by and large, that seemed to be all there was. Even that aside though she had a distinctive appearance, dusk brown skin, and cloud white hair did create a rather contrasting appearance to her, even ignoring the metal gauntlet that was fastened tightly to her right arm. It was inactive now, but someone with a good background in weapons could see the dust mechanisms built into it, though it was inactive at the moment. There was a sword slung around her back as well, a double edged straight sword, nothing fancy or special but it could do the job. Clothing wise she was a juxtaposition as well, it looked like the clothing she was wearing was very high quality, but it had been dismantled and then patched and resown in a way that at first glance was merely haphazard, but upon closer inspection revealed a pattern that was honestly pretty visually appealing.

She didn't seem inclined to approach anyone herself, she had a pair of earbuds hooked up and presumably playing music, as she made herself comfortable laying lengthwise one of the benches, her head resting neatly on her knapsack.


[User]
 Akira Toriyama famous mangaka standing behind the design of the characters and the series of famous manga Dragon Ball and Dragon Quest series designs games figures.
Today we get the official game of the cover design of Akira Toriyama of the game Dragon Quest Builders and who appeared on Japanese Amazon site oath, issued the game in the eighth and the twentieth of January next year in Japan without the issuance date in the West.


[User] The saga continues...


[User] You're in a strange room. Approximately thirty feet square, with clean white walls, lit by flourescent strip lighting. The room is cold, smells strongly of mint and antiseptic, and as you look around you realise that the room is a morgue. Around you are a number of steel gurneys, arranged in a grid. Each one has a covered body. In one corner of the room is an old and battered red mailbox, and a steel air conditioning vent protrudes from the ceiling, the vent's opening around three feet square, inside it can be seen only darkness.

[User] A scruffy looking man with a bat in hand descends from the vent, jumping down and landing loudly on the ground. He watches for any movement within the room, before heading towards the mailbox.

[User] The room shows no sign of movement. The shapes on the steel gurneys, hidden by plastic sheets, remain still. The mailbox is around five feet tall, of an  unusual design . A sign on the front proclaims that mail collection will be at 6pm and 12 midnight. Unfortunately, there's no way of knowing what time it is.

[User] The man shakes the mailbox, trying to understand what is in it. He then looks around for a door in the morgue, with hopes that he can leave it.


[User]
 You are all currently at the surface, just in front of a cave. The entrance is dark and foreboding-down below lies the Underdark, home to all manner of horrible monstrosities. But you have to go in.

Why?

[User]
 sharpening her Longsword and Greatsword, Nicole, remembers her Family being slaughtered by Denizens of the underdark. her companions Parents were kidnapped. She will not let another family be destroyed by these monsters. With Iop, and her Sister's Holy Symbol, she will save this family and avenge hers.

Turning to her Companions,

  I am ready when everyone else is. Throatdrinker and Heartslicer are ready for action

[User]
 Usually the best treasure is guarded by the most horrific things drogo thinks to himself. Drogo the greedy Halfling driven by his love for treasure and also by a sense of helping new friends decides to venture in.

 I'm ready whenever you guys are.

[User]
 Phynn looks at his companions, but stops to look the longest at Luna.   I've managed to lead her into danger once again,   he thinks to himself.

  "Are you ready, Little Cat? This could finally be it,"   he says to Luna as he prepares to head into the cave.

[User] Standing up, Nicole sheathes Heartslicer, her great sword. With her shield on and Her greatsword out, she walks into the mouth of the Cave.

[User] The cave almost feels alive, the wind like its breath.

[User]
 Nicole looks around for a way down, using her Darkvision, and Divine Sense, looking for anything that could come at her or her allies.

 Spoiler: Perception
 (1d20+3)[ 18 ]

[User]
 Spoiler: DIvine Sense And Perception DC 18
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Yet.

[User]
 come on everyone nothing is in the cave, Lets go rescue your family!

Nicole moves forward waiting for her party members.


[User] online play shopping a service provided helpline service


[User]
 Team GADE squares up against Team FUNGUS in an epic showdown of Capture the Flag!

 Spoiler: OOC
Your map is  here .

Take any position in your goal and roll initiative.

[User]
 Initiative time is the best time

 Spoiler: INNIT
Gretro:  (1d20+3)[ 10 ]
An'on:  (1d20+5)[ 7 ]
Debian:  (1d20+2)[ 21 ]
Elcan:  (1d20+2)[ 13 ]

Taking the positions one closer to the flag than we are on the map.
Also, crap. Hopefully they roll lower than a 21, if I remember how this worked right

[User]
 Fjallar start D19

Scathach start E19

Nekhbet start G19

Ghislaine start F19

 Spoiler: Initiative rolls

F [roll]1d20+3[\roll]
S [roll]1d20+4[\roll]
N [roll]1d20+3[\roll]
G [roll]1d20+3[\roll]

[User]
 Spoiler: Initiative didn't roll last time

 (1d20+3)[ 9 ]   F
 (1d20+4)[ 24 ]   S
 (1d20+3)[ 5 ]   N
 (1d20+3)[ 23 ]   G

[User] So, averaging my Init: (10 + 7 + 13 + 21)/4 = 51/4 = 12.75, which rounds to 13.  S and G go first, followed by my party, followed by F and N and then back to the top with S and G.

[User]
 Well I'll go ahead:

S inspires G. Readies. Mounts broom.

G readies.

[User]
 Debian will climb over the wall and move south to G8, and then ready actions.

Elcan casts a spell, as the ground twists and spines and thorns erupt from it in a 20' radius around G15 (so a rectangle with sides B11 to J11 and B11 to B18) with the Spike Growth spell. This ground is difficult terrain and each 5 feet of movement deals 2d4 damage to whoever does so. He then stays put in the goal.

Gretro will similarly to Debian climb over the wall and then dash, using his cunning action, to approach and grab the flag, ending his movement.

An'on moves to K6 and readies actions.

[User]
 When Debian moves out both readied actions trigger: G and S attack.

 Spoiler: attack rolls

 (1d20+3)[ 12 ]  G with sharpshooter
 (1d20+6)[ 12 ]  S attack

[User]
 Looks like you put spike growth where Gretro just ran?
Both readied attacks miss.

Fjallar casts haste on Ghislaine.

Nekhbet casts conjure animals: 8 velociraptors. 4 in E10, 4 in F10. bonus action bear totem in G14 (+10 THP to all of my guys), order to attack greto then other enemies (aka non allies) within move and attack range while not in active goal (currently Greto, then Debian, then Anon, then Elcan)

 https://chisaipete.github.io/bestiar...s/velociraptor

 Spoiler: rolls

 (1d20+2)[ 4 ] Velociraptor initiative

be more when I see initiative roll

 Spoiler: Hp / Status

Name | HP | THP | Statuses
F: 31/31 | 10
N: 39/39 | 10
G: 58/58 | 10 | haste
S: 37/37 | 10
FF: 1/1 | 10
GF: 1/1 | 10
V1: 10/10 | 10
V2: 10/10 | 10
V3: 10/10 | 10
V4: 10/10 | 10
V5: 10/10 | 10
V6: 10/10 | 10
V7: 10/10 | 10
V8: 10/10 | 10

[User] Scathach casts hold person on Gretro and Debian (at 3rd level). Make DC 15 wis save or be paralyzed.

[User]
 The velociraptor's initiative was after Scathach and Ghislaine, hence waiting for save, sorry I should have been explicit.

Ghislaine uses reaction to go at velociraptor's turn.

Velociraptor packs move to E9 and G9 respectively, and attack Debian ( I'll do rolls piecemeal in case I need to change target)

 Spoiler: rolls

First pack (V1-V4) with adv:
V1 bite  (1d20+4)[ 16 ] , (1d20+4)[ 11 ]
V1 claws  (1d20+4)[ 24 ] , (1d20+4)[ 20 ]

V2 bite  (1d20+4)[ 6 ] , (1d20+4)[ 15 ]
V2 claws  (1d20+4)[ 23 ] , (1d20+4)[ 11 ]

V3 bite  (1d20+4)[ 5 ] , (1d20+4)[ 18 ]
V3 claws  (1d20+4)[ 9 ] , (1d20+4)[ 21 ]

V4 bite  (1d20+4)[ 9 ] , (1d20+4)[ 6 ]
V4 claws  (1d20+4)[ 16 ] , (1d20+4)[ 10 ]

[User]
 3 claws hit:

dmg, auto crit

 Spoiler: dmg rolls

dmg  (2d4+2)[ 5 ]
dmg  (2d4+2)[ 7 ]
dmg  (2d4+2)[ 6 ]

More attacks, If these kill (actually kill) Debian, then they'll switch to target Gretro instead.

 Spoiler: rolls

second pack (V5-V8) with adv:
V5 bite  (1d20+4)[ 7 ] , (1d20+4)[ 8 ]
V5 claws  (1d20+4)[ 24 ] , (1d20+4)[ 11 ]

V6 bite  (1d20+4)[ 10 ] , (1d20+4)[ 15 ]
V6 claws  (1d20+4)[ 20 ] , (1d20+4)[ 9 ]

V7 bite  (1d20+4)[ 11 ] , (1d20+4)[ 14 ]
V7 claws  (1d20+4)[ 9 ] , (1d20+4)[ 11 ]

V8 bite  (1d20+4)[ 13 ] , (1d20+4)[ 16 ]
V8 claws  (1d20+4)[ 21 ] , (1d20+4)[ 19 ]

[User]
 18 dmg, then

3 more claws hit:

 Spoiler: rolls

dmg  (2d4+2)[ 9 ]
dmg  (2d4+2)[ 4 ]
dmg  (2d4+2)[ 8 ]

So 21 more damage, and I believe Debian is down (crit hit, so no strength of the grave).

[User]
 Ghislaine whispers "Swift death to you who have wronged me.” Activating Oathbow on Gretro. Ghislaine attacks Gretro (rolling piecemeal)

 Spoiler: rolls

G attack w/ sharpshooter:  (1d20+3)[ 21 ] ,  (1d20+3)[ 17 ]

[User]
 Spoiler: rolls

dmg: [roll]1d8+3d6+13[/roll]
next attack w/ sharpshooter:  (1d20+3)[ 4 ] ,  (1d20+3)[ 12 ]

[User]
 Spoiler: rolls

inspiration for second shot:  (1d8)[ 5 ]
dmg for first redo :  (1d8+13)[ 21 ] ,  (3d6)[ 13 ]

[User]
 Spoiler: rolls

dmg second:

 (1d8+13)[ 14 ] ,  (3d6)[ 9 ]

[User]
 Gretro down.

 Spoiler: rolls

3 more attacks at gretro action surge, (normal since adv/disadv cancels, no sharpshooter)
 (1d20+8)[ 18 ]
 (1d20+8)[ 9 ]
 (1d20+8)[ 26 ]

Move J19

So two failed death saves on gretro.

It's your turn. Gretro down, Debian down and paralyzed (make wis 15 save at end of turn to end). Remember velociraptors in E9 and G9.


[User]
 The League of Undersized Gentlemen squares up against Team Artillery in an epic showdown of Capture the Flag!

 Spoiler: OOC
Your map is  here .

Take any position in your goal and roll initiative.

[User]
 My characters line up across E19-H19, in the exact same order they are already in.

 Spoiler: Initiative Rolls
  Number 1  - (1d20+3)[ 18 ]
  Number 2  - (1d20+2)[ 15 ]
  Number 3  - (1d20+3)[ 9 ]
  Number 4  - (1d20+4)[ 20 ]