[Game Thread] South, across the Middle Sea

[DaysUntold]

Nae’laa's head spun as tales wove around accusations bundled with incoherence. More than once, she thought about fleeing, stopped only by a torn and strange sense of loyalty. The quickly approaching guards didn't help the matter. It is hard to imagine that such a spectacle would go unnoticed. So instead, she stood frozen like a fragile deer, staring at the scene with far less reaction than the situation deserved, all things considered. Perhaps that lent credence to the situation, but she couldn't take credit for her performance. Her mind was racing at such a speed that she could barely process what was happening. Relief flooded through her as the watchmen left, seemingly characterized quite adeptly by the minotaur who came to their rescue. She would have to remember to speak with him later, should the opportunity arise. In the meantime, though, it seemed as if Zenda had other plans for them. She followed, reluctantly, staying towards the back of the group in case the situation should go south. Awkwardness set in quickly as Azar turned and apologized. The wizard shifted uncomfortably and turned to Bato as if searching for some sort of escape or reassurance... a fruitless attempt to be sure. So, she was stuck in something between a grimace and a smile far too long. It wasn't until the woman turned away that she allowed herself to relax slightly, cursing the years of isolation for her social ineptitude. "Keep him?" she finally chimed in, despite herself. "Does he even want to be here? Would our employer even allow such an addition?" She blushed at her perceived outburst, though her voice was no louder than anyone else's. She quickly realized she was also speaking as if he weren't there, but couldn't bring herself to correct her error.

StatBlock   Nae'laa Actions Move: Action: Cast: Bonus Action: Reaction: - Interaction: - Contingencies: - Notes/Rolls:

[Strangemund]

New party member unlocked... Kazimir wasn’t the sort to stare, but be still his blackened heart, without the smoke and mirrors, Azar was something else. Scaled like a golden serpent. Eyes red like a baleful flame. A young, lithe thing compared to ole Red, but no less dangerous from the way she held herself like a pointed dagger. She was a venomous beauty, one that could poison a man’s heart just as easily as his cup. Which seemed to be the running theme here. A bunch of beautiful lasses gathered together. Each queerer than the last. Kazimir knew he joked about The Sighing Lady being a circus troupe, he just didn’t realize how true it was until he saw them all standing together. All they were missing was the lion, but he supposed big, mean, and furry could make it work, with the right wig, of course. "Okay, let’s talk." Kazimir covered himself as Azar glanced him up and down, suddenly feeling very exposed. "I suggest we start by deciding whether we should kill this one." Ah soddin’--! They were the murderous kind! Quickly, talk your way out of this, Kazimir, use your elven charms. "I vote no," Kazimir blurted out, hand raised and all. "Maybe Imma bias opinion, but murderin’ sounds like a lotta work. Way easier to just bribe me. In fact, I’ll just pretend ye bribed me, and be on me merry way right now." As Kazimir turned around to walk away, dusting his hands at a job well done, he walked smack dab into the wall of meat that was Batoyangi. The bloody bastard blocking the only way out. Kazimir gave him a weak smile, and stepped back, slowly and carefully, just in case he felt a wee bit nippy. "Apologies, laddie, didn’t see ye there…" By the Nine Realms, he was stuck here, wasn’t he? A cursory glance around the bottom deck proved a hopeless endeavor. All the crates and boxes they carried across the water were already hauled topside. Barely anywhere for him to squirrel away and hide behind that they wouldn’t discover immediately. And the hub-bub above would drown out his screams for help. Damn sailors were naturally outright loud bastards. He supposed he could pretend to have a heart attack and hope for the best. It worked with bears, and they weren’t nearly as terrifying as these lasses. Just as Kazimir was trying to figure out the best way to act out his sudden and tragic death, Red--bless her beautiful, foolish head--unleashed hell upon Azar. "Kill I should think you would want to kiss him. The oh so conveniently placed savior who just happened to be lingering on deck at the exact moment you tried to lead our companions astray…" They must never know the truth. "Oh. So that's it!" Red sneered at Azar in disgust, while Kazimir cut his eyes between the two, slowly realizing that his luck was turning, as Red’s wild paranoia went from a fun show to sweet, sweet opportunity. "Now that you have been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, you want to quietly eliminate your co-conspirator? Worse, you expect me to do your dirty work for you?" Red stormed off with an insulted laugh, and dug into a nearby pack. "Not a chance!" Kazimir quirked a brow at the paperwork Red held in front of her, acting as though it were a holy parchment rather than a dusty pile of papers. With a mighty air, she threw her shoulders back, and held her head high, as she announced for all to hear in a voice that was disturbingly watcher-like. "Under the authority granted me by Her Most Gracious Excellency, Casmara Moshiri Azrabahir, The Scaled-Heart Sultana of the Glorious Empire of Mharot, Voice of the Morza, Defender of the Golden City of Harkesh, Bearer of the Breath, and Humble Daughter of Great Azuran, I place you under arrest." Oh by the gods, it was worse than he thought! They weren’t murderers! They were politicians! "You may consider yourself in the custody and under the protection of the Scaled Throne (in exile). You are a material witness...and I will take it very, very personally if something should happen to my witness." "Wait, what was that last part?" Kazimir gave a confused half-smile, half-frown, trying his best to process what ole Red just told him. "Did ye just arrest me? Ye cannae do ‘at. Ye have no authority here. Right?" He glanced uncertainly at the Badlands Witch and sourpuss Azar. His smile faltered, just a little, as he repeated. "...right?" But the looks on their face said plenty. She had, in fact, arrested him. Claimed him as a material witness to a crime that only existed in her most paranoid dreams. That wasn’t fair at all! He hadn’t done anything wrong (this time)! In fact, he was downright saintly, helping them out of a nasty jam, while his own bacon was frying. Running a hand through his red hair, Kazimir wore a grim expression. Being arrested by such high-tier officials was almost as bad as getting gutted by Fun-Gus. Freedom was all he ever had in the hundred years he lived. Nothing else mattered as much. Not when it was all so fleeting-- the heartbreaks, the deaths, and homes lost-- came and went as easily as a passing breeze. And yet, here he was, collared and leashed like a bloody dog, because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. Somewhere in the Nine Realms, Loki must have been having a good laugh at his expense. "'Oh that's just racist.'Kazimir of… the Pointed-ears." Kazimir glanced up from his brooding, only to quirk a brow at the disgusted shudder that ran up and down Azar’s small frame. "I… will come back to you." Kazimir gave a look to Batoyangi that said ‘What the hell was that for?’ before he realized that Azar was apologizing to the others. He snorted softly, more than a little insulted she brushed him off so quickly when she was the one who threatened to murder him and got him arrested. For nothing, by the way, as all he had done was help with her shoddy lying. Although apparently that wasn’t the only thing she needed help with-- her apologies were a sorry thing to behold, too. By the time Azar made her way back around to him, Kazimir was prepared. He folded his arms across his chest. All five feet of him looked up at her expectantly, as he wasn’t going to settle for anything less than the best. But then Azar startled him by doing the one thing he didn’t prepare for-- being genuine. It disarmed Kazimir. He thought for sure she was going to spin this as his fault. But no. She was sorry he was here. Because it meant he’d face bigger dangers than Fun-Gus, the Scarlet Blade, or the Rat King combined. That he’d regret his time with them, not because of the lies, the paranoia, or the deceit, but because whatever quest they were on was bigger than them. Kazimir said nothing. He cupped his hand over his mouth, as his squinty eyes seemed distant. As if his thoughts were miles and miles away from here. No doubt Azar thought him overwhelmed by the truth. Her promises more than he knew to handle. He’d need time to adjust, she’d think, to absorb his newfound pains, all the while oblivious to the wild, mad smile that stretched from pointed ear to pointed ear on his handsome face. "So are we keeping him?" asked Bato, noticing the smell of fear and grief started to fade on the blue-stained elf. A new scent was brewing. Something far more familiar to the ex-pit fighter. Unbridled excitement. "Keep him?" The Badlands Witch, known as Nae’laa, stepped up to Kazimir’s defense, and caught his eyes as she looked at him. And for a moment, she swore she saw something other than surprise in his grey eyes. Not fear, not grief, but joy. "Does he even want to be here? Would our employer even allow such an addition?" Kazimir couldn’t have asked for a better opening. "Aye, it is a troublin’ thing, it is." Kazimir sighed and drooped his head low, shaking his head as he put his blue-stained hands on his hips. The perfect picture of sadness. Sullen right down to his leathered boots. "Stolen away from me home, like a babe from a cradle. Oh, sweet, sweet Candano, tears me heart apart to say goodbye to her. All the friends I have made. Me dearest love I’ll never see again…" He bit his knuckle to keep himself from crying, and turned away, just in case ole Red and Azar were checking for his crocodile tears. "But I understand what must be done. What part I must play. An’ who am I to deny officials from the Scaled Throne? I am just wee simple man, born from the elven glades o’ Allegedly, Elven. It means 'spilled milk.'Leche Derramada. Aye, I’ll accept the fate thrusted upon me by Kazimir definitely winked at her, when he thought no one else was looking.my callous associate Azar…" "An’ I thank you, Red--nay, Zenda, was it?" He threw a silvered smile her way, Kazimir bowing in a formal manner that didn’t suit his greasy nature. "Ye spared me life in more ways than one, Miss Zenda. It is a kindness I hope to return one day." Popping back up to his feet, Kazimir clapped his hands together, and grinned at all four of them like a fox let loose in a hen house. "Now! Anyone here know how to play a game o' Hnefatafl?"

[4eyedBadger]

The Sighing Lady, Candano docks The sun dips beneath the western edge of the disc that is the world of Midgard, leaving the mortal realms in the shadow of the Summer Lands for another day. Kazimir emerges from the cabin where his loose captivity was declared by Zenda and climbs the steps back to the deck. Standing on the polished wood, looking up at the masts reaching toward the starry sky, and the furled sails that will power his flight from Candano, from Scarlet, from Gus’ decidedly un-”fun” knives, Kazimir’s keen elvish eyes widen in the starlight. His gaze quickly shifts to the lighthouse. Gus is not there. He scans the partially deserted streets nearby, peering into the shadows between warehouses and offices. A large figure is retreating deeper into the darkness. It might be the trollkin cutter. Kaz can’t say for sure in the brief second he sees the shadowy outline. But whether it is or isn’t, the charismatic scoundrel has no doubt that he is being watched even now. Heavy hoof-steps behind him cut short Kaz’s vigil. He turns, expecting to see Milkharem or one of the other minotaur crewmen he’d seen struggling with the mule that is now penned at the aft deck. What he sees instead is enough to send his ready smile overboard in an instant. Vrakiras Roshgazi stands feet taller than Kazimir, but even if they were matched in height, the silverback minotaur bosun would be double the elf’s size by virtue of his thickly muscled, bullish body. Vrakiras says nothing for the first few seconds, taking in Kaz’s startled reaction, allowing the intimidatingly tense atmosphere to build between them. "I am Vrakiras," says the bull. "I am responsible for maintaining discipline on board The Lady." His silver-haired chest muscles ripple as he leans closer to Kaz. "You have breached that discipline once by boarding this deck without the permission of her officers. For that, I would throw you over the railing." The minotaur’s huge bicep flexes as he punctuates the statement with a gesture toward the seaward railing on the port side. "But Captain Del Magrina has ordered my forbearance in giving you to the sea, on account of our passengers’ ignorance of maritime tradition. I assure you, this is a temporary indulgence." With that, the bosun turns and stomps across the deck toward the stern, the boards creaking under his weight. The night passes, and the recently-revealed constellation of Velles serpentines across the dark sky, nearly unseen behind the Warrior, the Maiden, and the Bull.

The Next Morning: Marksday, the 21st of Thunders Skhrin Vat, the last watchman of the night, puts out the deck lanterns as the sun re-emerges in the east from its journey across the hidden “other side” of the world. As he does every morning, the ratfolk crewman greets the light of Khors’ chariot with an upturned face, doffing his leather cap with clawed hands. His beady, rodent eyes are far more suited to the night. But something about the day calls to Skrihn, and his hairless tail flicks behind him in satisfaction. This last moment of the night, or first moment of the day, is his own. The crew are not awake yet. He is the sole emissary of The Sighing Lady to each dawn. His nose crinkles slightly in the cool morning air. An alarming scent is carried on the breeze from behind him. The faintest hint of smoke. Turning quickly, Skrihn Vat relaxes when he sees Nae’laa emerge from the ladder to the deck. These passengers will take some getting used to. "Morning," the ratfolk squeaks. His tone is not unfriendly, despite the interruption to his morning ritual. "The Captain asked if the ‘commodations are accep..." A strong gust of wind interrupts the scene, whipping Nae’laa’s flowing garments and causing the ember-like fissures in her skin to flare brightly with the infusion of oxygen. The sound of rushing air builds upon the deck and loose articles of paper and ends of coiled rope are tossed about in a circular pattern. The light morning fog on the water is drawn up by the whirlwind, spinning within it and lending it a wispy, silvery semblance of corporeality. The swirling air beats past the ears of Skrihn and Nae’laa, whooshing and whistling in its constant rush. The sound builds to a near constant drone, and then, subtle modulations carry a voice upon the wind. "Siraati," says the voice on the wind, speaking in the primordial language of the elements. "I am Builder of Dunes, a servant of the Lords of Wind." The modulated vibrations carry a tone of formality. "The emissary of The Prophet in Valera has charged me with bearing this package to you and your companions." As the elemental wind speaks, from among the swirling papers and articles flying haphazardly around Nae’laa, one small package in plain brown paper diverges from the circuitous route of the rest, moving through the air toward her slender hand of ash and fire. * * * As the whirlwind rushes off across the open water to the north, Skrihn Vat looks at Nae’laa with a cocked head and curious eyes. "There were words in that...thing." Then his eyes move hungrily down to the package. "What manner of treasure would require such a courier, eh?" The package itself is rather small; a few inches on any side and perhaps an inch thick. It feels like cloth beneath the brown paper, with a crinkle of parchment as well. The whole thing is tied with simple string of braided hempen strands.   The knot in the string cannot be easily untied, as it is formed precisely in the practiced, overhand fashion of the desert nomad who sent the package. But it can be slid to the side or cut with relative ease. The brown paper falls open to reveal the corner of a white piece of parchment, and some folded fabric of a shimmering gold. At least, from one angle it looks gold. As the supple fabric is unfolded and turned in the light, the color becomes less definable, shifting through the spectrum of metals; gold, then copper, then silver, then bronze, then a metallic, emerald green. And so on, defying classification. A fine rope of golden thread winds through the fabric, in and out of sewn eyelets like a coiling serpent. Tucked between the layers of fabric, a white parchment is folded to conceal the precisely lettered words of a note, written in a masculine hand, though with an exotic flourish to the strokes. The Note Friends, I hope this finds you well. First, allow me to apologize for the lack of subtlety in the delivery of this item. There was need for haste to reach you before you passed beyond our influence. The cloth sack you now hold is one of three such items, linked to each other by magic. Collectively, they are known as The-Many-Throated-Bag. A second has been sent to your counterparts, while the third remains in the possession of your patron. An item placed into any of the sacks enters a small dimensional space, from which it may be retrieved by the bearer of any of the three sacks across any distance, and, reputedly, even across planar barriers, though this seems less likely to me. The rope that ties the throat of the sack is a gold color when the sacks are empty. When one of the sacks is open, the rope turns a deep red. Finally, when an object resides within the dimensional space, the drawstring rope is an emerald green. I am certain you understand the value of such an item to our endeavor. Take care, however. Only one of the sacks should be opened at any time. The consequences of an uncontrolled, open-ended aperture at two points simultaneously could be dire. Perhaps I worry unnecessarily. I look forward to examining any artifacts you may encounter on your journey. May you find the favor of the West Wind. T * * * The sun rises on the day, heating the bleached sandstone of the coast and the salty waters alike. The choppy sea glitters like the desert sands, the waters undulating from its unfathomable depths further east. The Rubeshi ship has gone during the night. In the pre-dawn darkness of his hammock, Batoyangi had heard the malevolent moan from the east, where the slaver had lain at anchor. The mournful, painful sound had receded into the darkness, heading south by the gnoll’s estimation. For their part, the officers and crew of The Sighing Lady seem glad of the departure of the behemoth vessel. Even surly Mister Sartori spares a laugh at the empty sea in that direction. "Bless whate’er wind carried that monstrosity from these shores." Around noon, there is another departure from Candano’s harbor. The square-sailed al-Badawi casts off her lines and moves through the channel toward the deep water. Several hundred yards away, Azar can just barely see a black, feline form along the gunwale of the Nurian trader. A distant paw is raised in farewell, and then the ship turns south toward the desert lands, obscured by the shimmering heat of midday.

Ceresday, the 22nd of Thunders Another night, and the moon is visibly past full. The waning gibbous orb looks down upon the final preparations for the lengthy voyage east. Mister Vat must share the dawn this morning, as the crew prepares for departure in the pre-dawn. Arnau Sartori barks orders from the aft deck, tugging his big mustache in frustration or anticipation. But he seems pleased to be finally getting underway, as if the extra day at shore was a personal weight. Vrakiras Roshgazi watches the preparations silently, lending his strong arm to the harder tasks and laughing with the crew. Any shirkers feel his eyes upon them quickly, however, and double their efforts to avoid the big minotaur’s ire. Captain Thiagro del Magrina surveys the activity from the sterncastle. He inspects the work of his officers and crew with satisfaction, occasionally straightening a line or checking the oil of the ballista. Seeing Zenda step on deck, he smiles formally, nodding. "At last, we depart. May Hecate grant us both her divine luck in this journey."

OOC   Vrakiras rolled an 18 Intimidation on Kaz, for what it’s worth. No need to roll against it. I just like to roll as a narrative aid sometimes. Izem Tariq cast Planar Ally yesterday morning to gain the service of the wind elemental, Builder of Dunes, in delivering the packages to both groups. Even with his wind elemental speed of 90 feet and dashing non-stop, it took the elemental a full day to reach Candano. Skrihn Vat doesn’t seem to understand the Primordial language that the elemental spoke to Nae’laa. Feel free to set your replies anywhere in the time period covered by this post and respond to any of the happenings or go your own way with the intervening time. I’m probably more excited than Sartori to get under way! We will hand-waive the logistics of working out Kazimir's passage in exchange for Myra's passage and getting the captain approval. Welcome again to Kazimir and Strangemund! No turning back now

[Lazer]

Despite what Azar had considered to be her best efforts the tension in the little cabin was palpable. Fortunately Azar had bought a book, so she hid herself in the little bunk and read. Well, more precisely, she tried to read, but she found her concentration wanting and only managed a few chapters during the first day. As the sun was going down that night she grabbed her hat and donned her sailor woman disguise before going back up on deck. Grabbing a mop, she busied herself swabbing as she watched the sky turning from orange to red and then purple. There was a bank of clouds inland which continued to glow even after the sun had gone down, so she put the mop away and sat on a pile of ropes and stared out over the city. Her thoughts kept turning to the previous day, and how close they had come to the mission collapsing. They had already lost one member of the team and it had been no more than a claw from them all dissolving, and she couldn't help thinking that it had been her fault. She had admitted as such to the others in an attempt to put things right, but that had been only partially successful. What could be done? No matter how long she thought on it she could come up with no answer to that question. She found herselfUsing a combination of Prestidigitation and Control Flames. kindling the smallest flame she possibly could on the gunwale in front of her, blackening the wood and causing a needle-thin stream of smoke to rise hypnotically from it. As her thoughts turned she absent-mindedly impelled the flame to move around the face of the wood. The thing which was bothering her the most, she realised, was when she tried to consider what she could have done differently. Given the information that she had at the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable to suspect Zenda and Batoyangi of betrayal. Should she have acted as though she hadn't noticed for the sake of harmony within the ship? That course of action seemed to invite trouble. Noticing that it was getting a little cold, she extinguished the flame and then stopped, gazing at the pattern that it had made on the wood. She had always known that fire was a force of creation as well as destruction, it had been drilled into as a youth, but she had never before seen such a vivid demonstration of that. Shrugging, she stood to go back inside but was brought up short as she saw the bosun, Vrakiras, growling at Kazimir. She smiled as she padded quietly up behind the elf. "We have a saying, where I am from," she said, hoping to make the man jump, "'out of the flame and into the maw'. It refers to somebody trying to avoid being roasted by a dragon, for their struggles only to be rewarded by being eaten. Perhaps it doesn't translate well." She walked to the hatch without looking back. She was woken by a door opening, and her eyes flicked open instantly. She sat up, looking around, and saw that Nae'laa had gone. Her eyes narrowed for an instant and then she had to smile to herself. This was one of those moments when she had to pretend that her companion couldn't be plotting against them. She swung her legs out of the bunk and looked at the door as she tried to think of innocent things that the Jinnborn could be doing so early in the morning. Perhaps she needs to pee, she thought, but for some reason it wasn't convincing. Why was it not convincing? Everyone pees, and most do it first thing in the morning. It is normal. So why must I always think the worst? The answer was immediate; because I have too often been proven correct. But for the sake of harmony, she put the thought out of her mind, for now. Instead she collected some of the ingredients that she had bought the previous day and went to the galley where she busied herself preparing a simple porridge with honey and some herbs for flavour. The only pots on the ship were huge so she ended up making far more than she had intended and offered some to any sailors who were around to use it up. They seemed grateful, for the most part, which was nice, and she soon found that most of the crew had queued up for some, so she had to make a second batch for the others. At some point during the tumult she must have missed Nae'laa coming back in, because when she took some bowls into their little cabin she had returned bearing the awaited package. "Yes, very useful," she said, having read the note. "So we don't even need to survive beyond finding our prize to complete our mission. The Sultana is wise." There was no hint of bitterness in her voice; this simply made good sense. Azar had never harboured any illusions in regards to not being expendable. "I think Nae'laa should hold on to it. If we get in a fight it will be Batoyangi and Zenda who will be at the front, so they shouldn't take it and I… may have trouble in the Empire." Then, seeing the hungry look on Kaz's face she added, "…and you are a prisoner, and I suspect you would sell it at the very first opportunity you found." She spent the remainder of the day avoiding Zenda once again, and had found a quiet spot at the back of the hold where she could be alone with her thoughts. She found herself becoming slightly obsessed with burning pictures into any flat expanse of wood that she could find, prompting the miniscule flame to dance around and around like a spinning top and leaving in its wake snarling dragons. With practice she found that she could prompt the flame to split into two, curling off to mark both sides of a scale before joining back up at the other side. She marked barrel after barrel before realising that the hold was starting to smell heavily of smoke, which the crew may not appreciate, so she retreated to the cabin and her book. The Baroness of the title was abhorrent. She thought nothing of her duty to glorify her realm or that of her king, instead indulging her own whims and fancies on every page. She never seemed to be concerned about what her peers would think and yet she obsessed over impressing her underlings, whom she chose not for their skills but merely for their blonde hair and chiseled musculature, which was a good way to end up with a court full of spies! Azar had seen many styles of ruler in her time, and in her considered opinion this was no way to run a satrapy... and yet it was strangely compelling. The Baroness seemed to have no end to her carnal desires and ended up in some incredibly compromising situations, yet no assassin had attempted to end her life. Perhaps the author was ignorant of the true life of a noble, or perhaps she had simply chosen to omit that aspect of it, Azar couldn't say, but it was actually quite refreshing. Now that she had become comfortable with the premise of the book she found that she was tearing through the pages and finished it by lamplight in her bunk that evening. Afterward she lay there, breathing heavily, the book on her chest and the images of the final scenes alive in her mind. The Baroness had done nothing to redeem herself, and yet Azar felt like she would miss this woman that she didn't even know, who probably didn't even exist. As she drifted into sleep Azar dreamed that she was the Baroness, and that every man she deigned to meet had long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and an eager attitude.

 

Actions Move: Action: Ready Action: Bonus Action: Reaction: Interaction: Contingencies: Concentration: Disguise Status: Nada Notes:

 

Azar al-Muhaqiq
Human (Variant) Sorcerer 6
Ability Mods Str -1 Int +1 Dex +2 Wis +1 Con +2 Cha +4 Sheet	Defenses HP 44/44 AC 15 P.Perc 11 Init +2 Speed 30 Prof +3 Senses Darkvision to 60 feet while wearing Goggles of NightNormal	Key Skills Deception +7 Insight +4 Intimidation +7 Investigation +4 Stealth +5 - - Sorcery Points 6/6	Spell Slots 1st-level 4/4 2nd-level 3/3 3rd-level 3/3 4th-level 0/0	Abilities Liaison to network of spies. Can get messages to and from the Mharoti Empire.Contact Spells you cast ignore fire resistance. In addition, when you roll damage for a spell you cast that deals damage of that type, you can treat any 1 on a damage die as a 2.Elemental Adept (Fire) You are well-versed in surviving in hostile environments, even thriving where others are sure to perish. You gain the following benefits. • Increase your Constitution or Wisdom score by 1, to a maximum of 20. • You require only half the food and water normally required for a creature of your size. • You can withstand extreme temperatures indefinitely and automatically succeed on saving throws against extreme heat and cold for a number of days equal to your Constitution or Wisdom modifier, whichever is lower. After this time, you must make saving throws as normal, until you spend 24 hours in a comfortable temperature.Survivor You have a number of Sorcery Points equal to your Sorcerer Level which recharge when you finish a long rest. You can use a bonus action to regain spell slots equal to the number of Sorcery Points spent. You can also use a bonus action to spend spell slots to regain Sorcery Points as follows (Slot/Points); 1/2, 2/3. 3/5. 4/6, 5/7.Font of Magic When you cast a spell, you can spend 1 sorcery point to cast it without any somatic or verbal components.Subtle Spell When you cast a spell that targets only one creature and doesn’t have a range of self, you can spend a number of sorcery points equal to the spell’s level to target a second creature in range with the same spell (1 sorcery point if the spell is a cantrip).Twinned Spell As magic flows through your body, it causes physical traits of your dragon ancestors to emerge. At 1st level, your hit point maximum increases by 1 and increases by 1 again whenever you gain a level in this class. Additionally, parts of your skin are covered by a thin sheen of dragon-like scales. When you aren’t wearing armor, your AC equals 13 + your Dexterity modifier.Draconic Resilience Starting at 6th level, when you Cast a Spell that deals Fire damage, you can add your Charisma modifier to one damage roll of that spell. At the same time, you can spend 1 sorcery point to gain Resistance to that damage type for 1 hour.Elemental Affinity	Equipment Fire Crystal (Arcane Focus) Common Clothes Dagger x2 Thieves' Tools Goggles of Night Medallion of Thoughts (3/3 charges) Hat of Disguise Backpack -Bedroll -Mess kit -Tinderbox -Torch (10) -Rations (10 days) -Waterskin -Crowbar -Hempen Rope -Forgery Kit -The Many Robust Pages of Baroness Bressallia Belt pouch with 20 platinum and 13.5 gold Equipment Languages Common Draconic Ignan Languages Tool Proficiencies Thieves' Tools Forgery Tools Cooking Utensils Tools

Spells Known
Cantrips	1st	2nd	3rd	4th	5th	6th	7th	8th	9th
Cont Flames	Disq Gaze	Scorcher	Fireball	-	-	-	-	-	-
Fire Bolt	Chrom Orb	Enl/Red	Haste	-	-	-	-	-	-
Message	Shield	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-
Presti	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-
P of Smoke	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-

[DaysUntold]

Nae’laa struggled with the growing tension between the members of the guild. She’d been on her own long enough that tension in such a fashion seldom meant progress and more often meant that danger was looming, that it was time to leave. She fought the instinct, however, though she could never quite put her finger on why and the longer she searched for the answer the more elusive it appeared to be. Once more, chasing mirages at the edge of her vision. She sat up on deck, avoiding the cramped corners that had been given them. Cramped quarters reminded her all too much of father’s wagon, pulled by great lumbering beasts and lurching too and fro much as the ship did beneath her. Instead, she found comfort in the open sky and the water that seemed to spread from them in every direction. Her anxiety regarding the prospect of drowning had not exactly dissipated. Instead, it heightened her appreciation for those who traversed the waves. As much as she longed for the openness of the deck, the prying eyes and looming city left her feeling exposed. Paranoia crept up and chewed on her until she finally gave up and retreated to their room With a sigh, she dug through her pack and began transcribing the spell she had found into her spellbook before resuming her attempt to copy the logbook.She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice the others as they came and went from the small space. Nae’laa emerged early from the confined hold in which they slept. She would have slept on the deck, had she her preference, but at least she’d managed to get a couple hours of sleep. This morning though, it felt as if the open air called to her. She exited the room as quietly as she could, stepping onto the deck with relief as the sun peeked above the horizon. Skrihn greeted her, but she had no time to respond before the wind whipped around her, invigorating her and waking her more surely than a splash of cold water. As if spurred on by her eagerness, a new, yet familiar, voice spoke to her. “I recall you,” she replied quietly, “I believe, from when I was a child.” A hint of unsureness pulled at her, but she pushed it aside. “Thank you, Builder of Dunes,” she added, unsure if she was thanking him for the package or the reminder of a time before. At Skrihn’s comment, she couldn’t help but smile. “Not a treasure, I’d imagine, but rather the promise of adventure,” she answered somewhat cryptically, “which, I suppose, is a treasure all it’s own.” Nae’laa all but ran back to their cabin, plopping down unceremoniously on her bunk as she carefully opened the package that had arrived. By then, others were waking and she made no effort of hiding that which she found within. The fabric mesmerized her and the jhinnborn found herself running the fabric between her fingers, admiring its construction and the unique pearlescence that set it apart from anything that she had ever seen before. She passed the note around, barely even noting the disturbing observation that Azar made. Her mind was already racing at the implications and limitations of the item in her hand. Her first instinct was to experiment with the item, to test its boundaries, but she held herself back. Nae’laa was shocked at Azar’s suggestion and, to be honest, the level of trust that it seemed to convey, and she looked around waiting for someone to object. If no one did, she’d store it away until she could look at it again later. When the time came to depart, she found herself as eager to set sail as the captain himself. There was an unease about sitting like prey next to the city for too long and the promise of open waters equally excited and terrified her.

StatBlock   Nae'laa Actions Move: Action: Cast: Bonus Action: Reaction: - Interaction: - Contingencies: - Notes/Rolls:

[/QUOTE]

[Vislands]

It was the most peaceful time in their journey yet, The Sighing Lady cutting through the waves and leaving behind the discord that had infected the group. While Batoyangi had a taste for blood, he was not one of those fighters who could not settle into rest and relaxation. With the contingent of minotaur aboard, the crew of The Sighing Lady did not lack for muscle, so the gnoll was free to lean upon the railing of the deck and look out to sea, taking in the smells and sights, enjoying the feeling of vast freedom. It was in this mood of restiveness that he approached Zenda, finding her easily by following the scent of most love-sick smelling of the crewmen. Her weapons, the curious curved blades hung from her hip and Bato gestured to them, grinning. "Where did you learn to fight with those blades like that?" He thumped his chest. "The Great Bato has fought his share of graceful fighters, but you dance while you cut." Bato is not much interested in the arrival of their gift. He sniffs it, wrinkling his nose at the odd scent before handing it to Nae'laa as Azar instructed. Let them play with the arcane gadgets. Bato had everything he needed right here. At another point, the gnoll found the newest edition to their group, a prisoner no less. The slick talking Kazimir seemed adept at worming himself into places, but Bato found him amusing and now that their relation to each was clear the gnoll approached him with no hostility, a tongue lolling slightly from his mouth in an affable effect that was only slightly ruined by glimpses of his sharpened teeth. "You speak the Imperial Tongue, elf?" The gnoll yipped and growled at Kazimir, seeing recognition on the bluish elf's face and continuing. "I am Batoyangi, the Constrictor. A toothy grin. We must share a drink soon, elf. Your stories amuse me."

OOC   Actions Move: Action: Bonus Action: Reaction: Interaction: Contingencies: Notes/Rolls: Batoyangi Level 6 Civilized Gnoll Beast Barbarian [5] / Rogue [1] HP: 63/63 | AC: 18 | Speed: 40 ft. | PP: 16/Scent21 | Senses: Darkvision (60 Ft.) | HD: 5/5 d12+3 & 1/1 d8+3 Status: Feats: You use shields not just for protection but also for offense. You gain the following benefits while you are wielding a shield: If you take the Attack action on your turn, you can use a bonus action to try to shove a creature within 5 feet of you with your shield. If you aren't incapacitated, you can add your shield's AC bonus to any Dexterity saving throw you make against a spell or other harmful effect that targets only you. If you are subjected to an effect that allows you to make a Dexterity saving throw to take only half damage, you can use your reaction to take no damage if you succeed on the saving throw, interposing your shield between yourself and the source of the effect. Shield Master, You have achieved a penetrating precision in combat, granting you the following benefits: Increase your Strength by 1, to a maximum of 20. Once per turn, when you hit a creature with an attack that deals piercing damage, you can reroll one of the attack’s damage dice, and you must use the new roll. When you score a critical hit that deals piercing damage to a creature, you can roll one additional damage die when determining the extra piercing damage the target takes. Piercer, You have advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on smell.Scent, Although gnolls are cowardly at heart, they like to disguise their fears by abusing others. You have disadvantage on saving throws against being frightened. On the other hand, whenever you make a Charisma (Intimidation) check for dealing with obviously smaller or weaker targets, you are considered proficient in the Intimidation skill and add double your proficiency bonus to the check, instead of your normal proficiency bonus.Bully, When you take the Disengage action, your base walking speed is increased by 10 feet.Live to Fight Another Day, Whenever you make a Charisma (Persuasion) check for dealing with obviously bigger or more powerful targets, you are considered proficient in the Persuasion skill and add double your proficiency bonus to the check, instead of your normal proficiency bonus.Obsequious Skills: Acrobatics (+5), Animal Handling (+3), Athletics (+10), Perception (+6), Sleight of Hand (+5), Stealth (+5) Tools: Thieves Tools (+5) Languages: Broken Common, Draconic, Gnollish, Thieves' Cant Combat Equipment: Javelin (+7 <> 1d6+4), Adarga Magic Items: -attuned- While you wear these boots, your walking speed becomes 30 feet, unless your walking speed is higher, and your speed isn't reduced if you are encumbered or wearing Heavy Armor. In addition, you can jump three times the normal distance, though you can't jump farther than your remaining Movement would allow. [B]Current Jump Distances (with/without) 10 ft. running start: Long Jump - 54/27 ft. High Jump - 21/10.5 ft. ...you cannot jump over any obstacles that are taller than 13.5 feet.Footwraps of Striding and Springing Abilities Str Dex Con Int Wis Cha Score: 18 14 16 8 10 8 Modifier: +4 +2 +3 -1 0 -1 Saves: +7 +2 +6 -1 0 -1 Abilities: In battle, you fight with primal ferocity. On your turn, you can enter a rage as a bonus action. While raging, you gain the following benefits if you aren’t wearing heavy armor: You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws. When you make a melee weapon attack using Strength, you gain a bonus to the damage roll that increases as you gain levels as a barbarian, as shown in the Rage Damage column of the Barbarian table. You have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. If you are able to cast spells, you can’t cast them or concentrate on them while raging. Your rage lasts for 1 minute. It ends early if you are knocked unconscious or if your turn ends and you haven’t attacked a hostile creature since your last turn or taken damage since then. You can also end your rage on your turn as a bonus action. Once you have raged the number of times shown for your barbarian level in the Rages column of the Barbarian table, you must finish a long rest before you can rage again.Rage [ ] [ ] [ ] | While you are not wearing any armor, your Armor Class equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier + your Constitution modifier. You can use a shield and still gain this benefit.Unarmored Defense | Starting at 2nd level, you can throw aside all concern for defense to attack with fierce desperation. When you make your first attack on your turn, you can decide to attack recklessly. Doing so gives you advantage on melee weapon attack rolls using Strength during this turn, but attack rolls against you have advantage until your next turn.Reckless Attack | When you reach 3rd level (Perception) and again at 10th level, you gain proficiency in one skill of your choice from the list of skills available to barbarians at 1st level.Primal Knowledge | When you enter your rage, you can transform, revealing the bestial power within you. Until the rage ends, you manifest a natural weapon. It counts as a simple melee weapon for you, and you add your Strength modifier to the attack and damage rolls when you attack with it, as normal. You choose the weapon’s form each time you rage: Bite. Your mouth transforms into a bestial muzzle or great mandibles (your choice). It deals 1d8 piercing damage on a hit. Once on each of your turns when you damage a creature with this bite, you regain a number of hit points equal to your proficiency bonus, provided you have less than half your hit points when you hit. Claws. Each of your hands transforms into a claw, which you can use as a weapon if it’s empty. It deals 1d6 slashing damage on a hit. Once on each of your turns when you attack with a claw using the Attack action, you can make one additional claw attack as part of the same action. Tail. You grow a lashing, spiny tail, which deals 1d8 piercing damage on a hit and has the reach property. If a creature you can see within 10 feet of you hits you with an attack roll, you can use your reaction to swipe your tail and roll a d8, applying a bonus to your AC equal to the number rolled, potentially causing the attack to miss you.Form of the Beast | Beginning at 1st level, you know how to strike subtly and exploit a foe’s distraction. Once per turn, you can deal an extra 1d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon. You don’t need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn’t incapacitated, and you don’t have disadvantage on the attack roll. The amount of the extra damage increases as you gain levels in this class, as shown in the Sneak Attack column of the Rogue table.Sneak Attack | At 1st level, choose two of your skill proficiencies, or one of your skill proficiencies and your proficiency with thieves’ tools (Athletics, Perception). Your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses either of the chosen proficiencies. At 6th level, you can choose two more of your proficiencies (in skills or with thieves’ tools) to gain this benefit.Expertise

[hafrogman]

Zenda, Swordswoman of Ishadia Zenda was left only partially satisfied by the emergency meeting she had called. As things wound to a close, she could not help the feeling that some of the participants were secretly laughing at her. Her father used to do the same thing, outwardly pretending to listen to her concerns, but inwardly smirking at her impotent outrage. It was infuriating, and she longed to draw her blades and carve Azar into pieces. Just what was the damned witch's play, here? She was trying to present herself as the aggrieved party? As if a simple apology could paint over the treason she had just attempted. 'Sorry about that knife in your back. I thought you looked itchy.' Grinding her teeth in frustration, Zenda let herself be temporarily distracted by Kazimir's attempt to steer the discussion away to some game or other. She knew better than to play a game, she had spent too much time in the dens of iniquity of her homeland, watching men gamble away their lives on games of chance. What kind of person would entrust their life to a roll of the dice? Still, she listened to him describe the game with half an ear. You could learn much about a man by feigning interest in his hobbies. The next day was a tense one among the party. The air had certainly not yet been cleared, and she and Azar spent much of the time avoiding each other. Or rather Azar spent most of the day avoiding Zenda, while Zenda spent much of the day trying to keep a furtive eye on the dragon sorceress. Her supposed prisoner was left to his own devices, while the swordswoman fixated on her Mharoti rival. At one point she thought she had caught the woman trying to set the boat on fire... probably not intending an actual conflagration, but a distraction or diversion, perhaps? Even just the smell of smoke could start a panic onboard a ship. Strange to do it while still at port, though. Zenda waited until there was something more concreate to accuse Azar with, but instead her quarry spoke briefly to Kazimir, then went below decks without further pyrotechnics. Zenda was just quick enough, closing within earshot to overhear the offered words... 'Out of the flame and into the maw', indeed. Approaching the bard from behind, Zenda spoke softly, offering her own views on the Mharoti idiom in Kazimir's ear. "Teeth or fire. What a choice, eh? Interesting that even among her kind, they realize that dealing with dragons only ever ends in one way." She shrugged expressively. "Perhaps that alone should be a word of caution against trusting the scale-kin in the first place..." Rather than letting herself be drawn into another conversation with the self-professed elf and his greasy looks, Zenda simply sashayed away after her little bon mot. She found herself back by the spot that Azar had been burning early, and knelt to inspect the damage. Of all the things she expected to find... art was not on the list. She idly ran a finger along the fine lines etched into the wood and took a moment to admire the pattern. The subject matter left much to be desired, but the skill was undeniable. Zenda was a little surprised that the Sultana spared time for one of her slaves to cultivate such a talent... Perhaps there was more to Azar than met the eye. But then again... perhaps there wasn't. When the Sultana's gift arrived, Zenda gathered briefly with the others to discuss. it. She might not have trusted the Mharoti witch, but she could not fault in Azar's logic. Swordswoman and sorceress could not trust each other. Kazimir could not be trusted by anyone, and Bato was... Bato. That left Nae'laa as the neutral, mutually acceptable choice. She nodded in agreement. "A good choice. I approve." Truly, it seemed that the bag was useful, but not in such a way that mattered for most of the time. Moving items so quickly across the world was quite the feat, but it would avail them little in their day to day tasks, or in the heat of battle. Even Zenda's rampant paranoia faltered in the heat of yet another Candano afternoon, and she found herself lounging idly, having giving up her vigil. It was then that Bato approached her with his curisosity. She had originally written the gnoll off as a conversationalist, by and large. But his Mharoti was not hindered by his teeth as his use of the common tongue was. And he had picked the one topic that seemed to interest them both equally. After a mere moment's hesitation, she unlimbered one of her matched blades and offered it, hilt first, to the pit fighter. "I was trained, from my youth, to fight with any number of weapons. Scimitar, spear, bow... the weapons of my people. But also many others, taken from invaders or purchased from travelers, so no weapon is truly foreign. But these were a gift, a matched pair from the eastern lands. For years they hung on my father's wall. Once I was grown, I took them as my own. They match my personal style, as you have noted... so in some ways I taught myself. But building upon the foundations that came before." The next day finally arrived, not a moment too soon, and Zenda joined the Captain on the deck. She inclined her head in del Magrina's direction as he offered his blessing. "May the gods smile upon us and put the winds at our back."

OOC   Mechanics Move: Action: Bonus Action:   Stat Block Zenda | Aasimar (Scourge) | Fighter (Sword Dancer) | Level 6 HP: 52/52 | AC: studded leather19 | PP: Darkvision 60'13 | Initiative: +3 | Speed: 30ft Stats: Str 10 (+0), Dex 17 (+3), Con 14 (+2), Int 12 (+1), Wis 10 (+0), Cha 16 (+3) Saves: Str +3 | Con +5 Attacks: Attack +6 ; 1d8+3 slashing damage ; Extra AttackTemple Sword, Attack +6 ; 1d8+3 slashing damageTemple Sword, off-hand Skills: Acrobatics +6 | Deception +6 | History +4 | Perception +3 | Performance +9 | Persuasion +6 | Survival +3 Languages: Common, CelestialEnochian, DraconicMharoti Relevant Equipment: Midgard Word Book, pg. 401Temple Sword (x2), Studded Leather Armor, While wearing this ring, you can cast the jump spell from it as a bonus action at will, but can target only yourself when you do so.Ring of Jumping (A), While these bracers are worn, any time you are targeted by a spell or effect which imposes the frightened condition, you may use a reaction to gain advantage on a saving throw against the spell or effect. Forged in Magic: Reforged, pg. 157Valor Guards (A), You regain 2d4+2 hit points when you drink this potion.Potion of Healing (x3) You have resistance to necrotic damage and radiant damage.Celestial Resistance | You know the Light cantrip. Charisma is your spellcasting ability for it.Light Bearer | Your life in the open desert has adapted your body to a range of environmental conditions. You may survive on 1 gallon of water in hot conditions (or ½ gallon in normal conditions) without being forced to make Constitution saving throws and you are considered “naturally adapted” to hot climates (see DMG pg. 110). You are also able to read the natural environment to predict natural weather patterns and temperatures for the next 24 hours, allowing you to cross dangerous terrain at the best times. The accuracy of these predictions are up to the DM, but should be largely reliable unless affected by magic or unforeseeable events such as distant earthquakes or volcanic eruptions.Nomad | Feat: You master fighting with two weapons, gaining the following benefits: You gain a +1 bonus to AC while you are wielding a separate melee weapon in each hand. You can use two-weapon fighting even when the one-handed melee weapons you are wielding aren't light. You can draw or stow two one-handed weapons when you would normally be able to draw or stow only one. Dual Wielder | Fighting Style: When you engage in two-weapon fighting, you can add your ability modifier to the damage of the second attack.Two-Weapon Fighting | Martial Archetype: Midgard Heroes Handbook, pg. 39Sword-Dancer | While wearing light or no armor, you can add your Charisma modifier (minimum of 1) to your armor class, and you ignore difficult terrain.Light on Your Feet | You can attack twice, instead of once, whenever you take the Attack action on your turn.Extra Attack | Feat: You have honed your proficiency with particular skills, granting you the following benefits: Increase one ability score of your choice (Dexterity) by 1, to a maximum of 20. You gain proficiency in one skill of your choice (Deception). Choose one skill in which you have proficiency (Performance). You gain expertise with that skill, which means your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make with it. The skill you choose must be one that isn’t already benefiting from a feature, such as Expertise, that doubles your proficiency bonus. Skill Expert   Powers and Abilities Scourge Aasimar As an action, you can touch a creature and cause it to regain a number of hit points equal to your level. Once you use this trait, you can't use it again until you finish a long rest.Healing Hands [ ] You can use your action to unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing a searing light to radiate from you, pour out of your eyes and mouth, and threaten to char you. Your transformation lasts for 1 minute or until you end it as a bonus action. During it, you shed bright light in a 10-foot radius and dim light for an additional 10 feet, and at the end of each of your turns, you and each creature within 10 feet of you take radiant damage equal to half your level (rounded up). In addition, once on each of your turns, you can deal extra radiant damage to one target when you deal damage to it with an attack or a spell. The extra radiant damage equals your level. Once you use this trait, you can't use it again until you finish a long rest.Radiant Consumption [ ] Fighter You have a limited well of stamina that you can draw on to protect Yourself from harm. On your turn, you can use a bonus action to regain hit points equal to 1d10 + your fighter level. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again. Second Wind [ ] You can push yourself beyond your normal limits for a moment. On your turn, you can take one additional action. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again. Action Surge [ ]

[Strangemund]

A couple of busy days... People all day today.... ’I hate when he does that,’ thought Kazimir, squinting hard at Candano’s lighthouse for the ugly mug that was Fun-Gus’s. He didn’t see hide or hair of him anywhere in the shadows. The Trollkin long gone from his hideout. Which didn’t sit right with Kazimir, not one bit. That sodding boogeyman was probably back at Scarlet’s side, spinning all manners of lies about him into her beautiful bovine ear. Lies that he’d have a hard time refuting while he was under ship arrest. But it wasn’t like he could slip out unnoticed. Even now he was being watched from afar by the lasses’ overgrown guard dog. That Batoyangi, as they called him, stared at him from across the deck, chewing on something pink and bloodied, unflinching in his watch. He didn’t know what it was he ate, but Kazimir had a feeling it was better not to know. Or ask for that matter. Despite that, though, he supposed it was smarter he stayed here. But only by the tiniest margin! The tiniest.Being arrested by politicians was better than being strung up by Scarlet’s men. And that was the fate that awaited him in Candano. It was a hard thing to admit, but it was true. Scarlet’s demand was a fool’s errand right from the start. Nobody in Candano had that kind of money, nobody but the merchants, and they put their gold in their ships rather than their purses. Naw, he was meant to die here, a day from now. A memorable lesson for anyone who was foolish enough to play games in her crimson-stained court, like he had. A real shame. He rather liked it here. Kazimir heaved a heavy sigh as he took a long, hard look at Candano, his home for the last three months. He wondered if anyone would miss him. Probably a few sorry sods who didn’t know better. Like Siegfried, the old Northman, who liked Kazimir even though he knew he was no elf, just a liar with a lot of charm. He’d miss him. Probably because it’d be the last time that old bastard played a mean game of Hnefatafl before the valkyries took him home. And then there was Affer. He always acted like Kazimir was a nuisance. A stranger. But he knew Affer would miss him, eventually. He’d not miss the trouble Kazimir brought to his door, no sir, but he’d miss the stories. The jokes. The wonders Kazimir promised existed outside his cozy little barbershop. It would all be gone without him. He wondered if Scarlet would miss him, even just a little. He knew they didn’t end things on great terms. Less so after she went and sucked Fun-Gus to slit him open like a gutted pig. But maybe in ten years or so she’ll think back on him fondly. Remember the good times they had. The tender embraces they shared beneath Candano’s moonlight, when it was just them versus the world. It wasn’t his fault he got nervous about talk about marriage. She didn’t get the name The Scarlet Blade for nothing, you know? I mean. He knew that. It’s what he liked about her. But for arse’s sake, she kept the skulls of her exes in the wine cabinet. All ten and a half of them! What he was supposed to do, not panic? Not move out in the middle of the night? Not send her a singing telegram that they were ‘over’? "Well, ‘at last bit coulda been done better." Kazimir muttered to himself, "Kid was sorely off-key. Hurt me ears hearin’ him hit that high note. Good prices, though." The thunderous thump of hoofsteps coming up behind him drew Kazimir away from his reminiscing. He thought for a sliver of a second it was Milkherem come to celebrate his stay on the The Sighing Lady. Drinks in hand. Mood ripe with mirth. All that good stuff that his soul desperately needed. But that hope died in the angry blacks of a bull straight out of Kazimir’s worst bovine-related nightmares. Kazimir froze up against the ship’s rail. Concern mixed with confusion fleeting across his face as the silverback minotaur said not a word to him as he glowered down at him. Snorting a hot puff of steam from his bovine nose that made Kazimir really wish he wasn’t born a redhead. Kazimir glanced nervously around him. Half-hoping that his captors were about to swoop in and save him from whatever this was when the silverback minotaur finally spoke. "I am Vrakiras," he half-growled at Kazimir, his voice rough like gravel, and hardly pleasing to the ears. Which he figured was the point given his intimidating size. "I am responsible for maintaining discipline on board The Lady." Did his abs just wink at him?! "You have breached that discipline once by boarding this deck without the permission of her officers. For that, I would throw you over the railing." Kazimir tore his eyes from the bulging muscles that made him feel only slightly inadequate at his own slender figure, and raised his hands up to protect himself from the accusation and Vrakiras’ sweeping arm. Kazimir ducking just as it moved to gesture over to the dreary black sea. "Wait wait wait! I assure ye, good ser, I am innocent as a lamb! I only came aboard ‘cuz I was--" Vrakiras didn’t care for Kazimir’s excuses. In fact, he didn’t even seem to hear Kazimir, as the minotaur continued uninterrupted. "But Captain Del Magrina has ordered my forbearance in giving you to the sea, on account of our passengers’ ignorance of maritime tradition. I assure you, this is a temporary indulgence." "Right," Kazimir forced a smile, nodding in agreement to Vrakiras thinly veiled threat to be a good lil’ laddy while he was on board. "Understood, ser. No worries, ser. Ye won’t even know I was here, ser." Whether Vrakiras believed that or not, Kazimir didn’t know, but he left all the same, stomping off to his next victim. Kazimir released his held breath, and slumped over the ship railing. What was it with people threatening him today? And for things he (technically) didn’t even do! And why didn’t the dog step in!? "We have a saying, where I am from." Kazimir jumped out of his skin, startled by the second person to sneak up on him, and by pure bad luck, slammed his knee into the hard ship rail. He swallowed a foul Northern Tongue curse, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from squawking like a plucked hen. With tears stinging his eyes, he threw a dirty look at the culprit who startled him only to realize it was Azar, disguised again. And not too bad a disguise, either. He wouldn't have recognized her if it weren't for her voice. "’out of the flame and into the maw'. It refers to somebody trying to avoid being roasted by a dragon, for their struggles only to be rewarded by being eaten. Perhaps it doesn't translate well." "Sounds like an optimistic bunch," Kazimir grunted, his smile pained but nevertheless still frustratingly charming. He quirked a brow as Azar slipped away just as quickly as she appeared. Barely sparing him another second after rudely sneaking up on a man alone with his thoughts. He shook his head in disappointment, sinking himself onto a nearby crate, before he shuffled through his tunic for his flask. "I dun get her at all. I have been nuttin’ but saintly. Unless…" He didn’t sleep with a grandparent of hers, did he? No, no. There was no way. But then again, he was pretty sure he was slumming it up in the Empire eighty years ago. Or maybe that was an opium-induced dream he had. Still, he should definitely check, just to be sure this wasn’t another Huldeva incident-- "Teeth or fire. What a choice, eh? Interesting that even among her kind, they realize that dealing with dragons only ever ends in one way." "By Odin’s knotted beard!" Kazimir jumped again. His flask flung into the air as he didn’t hear Zenda sneak up behind him. And with a splash, it landed in the water. Gone forever. Kazimir closed his eyes with a grimace, and muttered a defeated, "Evenin’, Red..." As Kazimir looked longingly over the ship’s edge, Zenda picked up where she left off with her words of advice. Kazimir didn’t exactly get what she meant. His heart elsewhere. At the bottom of the drink, where his flask made its final rest. God rest its beautiful soul. But he still turned his attention to her when she whispered in his ear. "Perhaps that alone should be a word of caution against trusting the scale-kin in the first place…" Kazimir blinked. Then blinked again as Zenda left just as Azar had. Not a word more spared for the blue-stained elf. He snorted softly, half-amused, half-frustrated at what the two put him through tonight. Mostly because it was all for naught. Don't get him wrong. Kazimir was many things. A liar. A cad. And sometimes a fair-weather lover. But he was no fool. The way the lasses talked, down in the brig, it painted a vivid picture of what he’d face on their travels. Dangers that were vastly different from Scarlet and her men. More legend than idle tavvy chatter. And while it was true that trusting Azar was a trial in itself, it was not because of her scales. Never in a million years would he blame her for her scales. Kazimir more than happy to distrust her and dislike her because of who she was as a person. She was owed that at least. They all were, Kazimir thought, at least once in their long life. "Queer folk…" Kazimir laid back on his crate, staring up at the stars that twinkled overhead. Unchanging, just as he was. For the last hundred years, each and every star remained the same. Familiar faces he knew he could rely on. At least until he got a better idea of what to do with his newfound 'friends'. Kazimir smiled. "But so am I, eh, universe? A pretty good fit, dontcha think? I imagine we’ll have a few growin’ pains but otherwise…" They’ll help him finish his masterpiece just fine. He could feel it in his bones. That night Kazimir dreamt of the Song. It was the first time in months since he dreamt it. It was beautiful in its madness. Beautiful. Like the end of the world... It was his last day in Candano. His last moment to shine on the shores of the port city before he was whisked to unknown waters. Kazimir was absolutely excited about the whole affair. Giddy like a kitten at all the possibilities that awaited him tomorrow morn. But first things first, he needed his stuff. All his personal belongings were held up at The Beheaded Rooster. His clothes. His trinkets. His precious works of art. All of it was tucked away into the tippy-top room of the red-hatched roof tavern that was unfortunately smack dab in the middle of Scarlet’s turf. Even if he was allowed to head ashore, Kazimir had a sneaking suspicion one or two not-so-friendly faces were waiting for him to cross her border. But such sour news turned sweet the moment Milkherem the Unyielding Hoof made an appearance at breakfast, and greeted Kazimir with a teeth-chattering slap to the back. After Kazimir’s show of grace yesterday, the two became fast friends. Which was more or less fated, as neither were quick to forget the other’s kindness. And it was because of that good luck Kazimir didn’t need to spin any manner of tale when it came to asking help from Milkherem. All he had to do was say he couldn’t do it himself and promise his newfound friend two kegs worth of liquor if he gathered his things for him. It was only until after Milkherem was halfway down the gangplank did he tell Kazimir he would have done it for free. "You sly sunnova bastard, you!" Kazimir hollered after him, cursing him with every name in the book with all the affection his crooked little heart could offer. Milkherem just waved from the crowds, matching Kazimir’s grin with one of his own. But at least that was taken care of. The downside was that it left Kazimir to twiddle his thumbs until Milkherem came back. Kazimir unable to skip on to his second order of business until then. Which was only a problem due to the fact that Kazimir was already bored stiff being stuck on the ship. He wasn’t expected to work for his stay yet, mostly ‘cuz he tried to stay out of the ship captain’s sight to avoid actual work. Which left him wandering through the various levels of the The Sighing Lady, trying to waste enough time before he could really start shaking things up here for the better. It was right around then that the lasses and Batoyangi suddenly gathered together for a meeting below deck. It was unexpectant, as Kazimir was pretty sure they all hated each other. And yet he was curious enough about the whole that Kazimir followed them down below. Admittedly, he was kinda surprised they didn’t shoo him away when he snuck his way onto a bunk to watch the show unfold. But he half-suspected it was because they were already busy discussing some sort of secret package that was delivered to Nae’laa. Kazimir didn’t get what the big deal was. It looked like an ordinary bag to him. Nothing he hadn’t seen before. And whatever magic properties the letter promised was a lie he heard plenty from South Sea con men. But apparently, Kazimir stared too long at the bag, apparently, his squinty eyes furrowed into nothingness was enough for Azar to warn him against ill-doing. "…and you are a prisoner, and I suspect you would sell it at the very first opportunity you found." Kazimir gasped in shock, and muttered in a voice ripe with indignation. "First off, hurtful." He touched his heart in mock pain. "And secondly, I dun steal. I am a bard by trade. The only crimes I commit--besides the one I am currently held hostage here fer--is stealin’ hearts o’ fair maidens wit me lyrical genius." He turned away from Azar, his nose thrown up in the air in a haughty manner that was downright laughable. "Iffin’ that’s a crime, then lock me up! I’m guilty as charged!" Safe to say, they didn’t lock him up. In fact, they all but went their separate ways after it was settled that Nae’laa would hold the bag. Kazimir also left, shortly after, but only because he didn’t want to prove Azar right by sticking around. After all, he did think about slipping a lewd drawing into the bag, just to see what would happen… The next few hours were uneventful. Kazimir chatted up a few sailors, urging them to stick around the ship once the sun was set. Watched his captors share a rather friendly conversation in the language of Dragons before Kazimir skipped off when they both realized he understood them. He smiled and ignored the inane insults of the wet-earred sailor that tried to make a fool of him yesterday. Until finally Kazimir was drowning in a sea of boredom, ready to do just about anything to make all this waiting worthwhile. Anything. Birds of a feather...   So that’s where his alleged co-conspirator slipped off to, huddled in her bunk, all safe and cozy-like, with a good book in her hands. Which just wouldn’t do after the kind of trouble she put Kazimir through. Voting to murder him, imprisoning him, scaring him when he was lost in thought--Loki himself wouldn’t have accepted that kind of treatment without some kind of retribution, and who was Kazimir to ignore his god’s wise lessons? Leaned up against the cabin doorway, Kazimir folded his arms across his chest, and quietly watched Azar for a minute or two. A cat’s grin on his face as he realized she hadn’t noticed him just yet. The lass too fixated on whatever the Baroness was up to. "That much o’ a page turner, innit?" He flashed Azar a cheeky smile when she snapped her attention to him. Kazimir gestured lazily to the novel, slowly inching his way closer, but careful with his pace. He didn’t want to startle the viper and feel the bite of her venomous fangs. "Funny thing that. I recognize yer book. Ran into a sweet lil’ ole lady who was carryin’ it the other day. Supposin’ ‘at was you, wasn’t it? Creepin’ ‘round in all manner o’ disguises…" Azar snorted and tucked the book into the sheet before swinging her legs out of the bed to face her least favourite elf. "Oh, you remember that do you?" she asked, the scorn dripping from her voice. "That was the very moment when everything started to go wrong. Precisely when you showed up. I thought you were a watchman…" She trailed off, scowling, as she realized how ridiculous a statement that was. She sensed she was losing the moment and redoubled her efforts. "Or, a spy perhaps. Someone in league with Zenda anyway. If you hadn’t been so clumsy none of this mess would have happened!" "I was the clumsy one?" Kazimir pressed his hand to his chest in utter disbelief, not sure if he was wounded by her accusations or absolutely mesmerized by the madness that seized the lass in her hour of panic. "Ye just accused me o’ bein’ a watchman! Me! Nobody’s thought me the straight ‘n’ arrow sort since…" He paused, and thumbed his stubbled chin in thought. "Well, not since me toddler days. But ‘at’s beside the point!" Waving it all aside, he grinned that squinty grin of his at Azar that made him look twice the trouble than he was worth as he took another step towards her. "Do ye even want to know why I was on the ship? Why out o’ all the vessels in Candano, I chose yers to go on? Or were ye really just happy to silence me off wit a slit throat an’ call it a day?" Azar said nothing for several moments, her curiosity warring with her annoyance. Finally she relented. "Okay," she said dubiously, "why did you deign to choose this vessel?" Kazimir ducked his head down, and subtly peeked over his shoulder to make sure no one else was listening in on their little chit-chat. A long look left, a long look right, and all he saw was a skittering rat. At that, he grinned and closed the distance between him and Azar, his hand cupped around his mouth as he whispered so lowly that Azar would have to lean in to hear. "Ye see t’were a simple matter fer ole Kaz. Yer vessel had somethin’ I wanted on it. Somethin’ I’d risk death fer." Kazimir closed one eye, and leaned in until he was but a breath away. "Ye know what that was?" As Azar pierced him with a hateful gaze, he dramatically slapped his hand on the very book she tucked away, his smile absolutely mad as he laughed aloud. "Yer smut! I’m a big fan o’ the Baroness, I am! Who doesn’t love a lady in charge! Hah hah!" For just a moment there Azar had thought she would get a truthful word from this scoundrel, but once again he had shown himself incapable of honesty. She should have known better. "I see," Azar said without a hint of a smile. "Then I’ll pass it to you when I’m finished with it. I must admit, it is a refreshing change to find someone with such simple needs. When we reach Efesis I will buy you ten such books for your troubles, and then we can part ways, both happy." Ooh, she was a tough bird, wasn’t she? Didn’t crack even the tiniest smile at his teasing. ‘Politicians,’ he sighed, ‘Wouldn’t know fun if it bit ‘em on the arse.’ At least she gave as good as she got. Kazimir feigned delight at her offer, touching his cheek as though he were over the moon at such a promise. "Ye would? Really? Ah, I knew there was honey somewhere in the poison ye stew in. Just had to dig around deep enough!" Kazimir stumbled his way backwards, his footwork close to a drunkard’s gait from the way he swayed and swirled. He waved Azar off with a playful wiggle of his hand, still grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear as he said, "I won’t keep ye any longer from yer book then! But remember, lass, no spoilers! I dun wanna hear a peep on the Baroness pops her blouse." He planned to leave things at that. A clean cut conversation where he got a better idea of what the lass was like than what the few words she spared in their ‘meeting’ room offered him. And yet, something stopped Kazimir at the doorway. It was ole Red’s warning that came to mind. It was all good advice at a glance. Keep his business to himself. Be wary of the viper. Things he already knew from the way Azar was quick to make him a handsome corpse. But the way Red blamed it on her looks-- her scales that gleaned as pretty as a gold coin in an empty hat-- just didn’t sit right with Kazimir. He shoulda left things be. Let them work out their own business. Keep his head low and his nose clean. And yet...and yet... "Ye know what, lass…" Kazimir faced Azar halfway, tapping his blue-stained finger against his lips in thought, his brow furrowed into a hard line that made it impossible to see his winter eyes. "I thought ‘bout it some. And, well…" He shrugged nonchalantly. "I decided to be honest wit ye after all. The truth is I hopped on yer lil’ vessel hopin’ to woo somebody on board. Not gonna say who, tis a private matter o’ the heart ye know. But hell, figured since ye did apologize fer the murderin’ an’ the kidnappin’, ye get ‘at much from me." Azar narrowed her eyes, unable to decide whether to believe yet another revelation. "So, you are just a love-sick puppy hoping to impress some mystery-person?" She smiled dubiously, "Somehow that is a lot more believable than you being a good samaritan, at least. I hope the mystery-person doesn’t skewer you for your trouble." Oof. Cold, but fair. Kazimir continued. "But--" He pointed at her. "--iffin’ ye want any more revelations, ye have to beat me in a game o’ dice. Ye dun have to agree to game now. Ye got yer steamy readin’ an’ all. But think ‘bout it some time, eh?" He then smiled, winking at Azar as he said, "Us co-conspirators have to stick together, right?" She sat back regarding him for a few moments and then shook her head, but with a half-smile. "I will play your dice game some time," she said, picking her book back up. "Your stories amuse me, I would like to hear some more." There it was. A sliver of something more. It was faint, and it was fleeting, but Kazimir saw it. A chance. A chance to get to know her. The real Azar. It wasn’t much, but it was more than he expected. Far more than all the evils she promised to do to him and his clever tongue. It was enough to make a man smile. "I’ll be thinkin’ on my best tales, then, lass." Kazimir promised as he headed out the door, an extra pep in his step. "The best, just fer you!" Let's get plastered...   The deck of The Sighing Lady was no longer a place of suspicion and paranoia but a church of drunken laughter and bawdy jokes. Almost all of the minotaur sailors that manned the vessel were huddled around a makeshift table that was composed of a wide wood plank set on top of a handful of crates they pushed together at the back of the ship. Tankards full of sweet liquor were passed around while dice rolled across the board, the minotaurs yelling excitedly no matter what number showed up on the beautifully crafted stone die. Kazimir sat at the head of the table, less blue and more purple, as his face was starting to flush red from all the hard alcohol he desperately drowned himself him. "OoOooh…" He shook his head at the sorry roll in front of him, wincing in pain as he half-yelled, half-mumbled over the noise. "No lyin’ yer way outta ‘at roll, laddie! Take yer licks an’ get out while yer ahead!" Which was sound advice. Kazimir cashed out an hour ago, after losing all night due to his own terrible hands. Any other day he woulda been pulling his hair out from his string of bad luck, but truth be told, it was no coincidence he was rolling so shoddy. After all, a losing man was a far more sympathetic soul. Easier to like and easier to defend when the going gets rough. And Kazimir, ooh, he needed friends more than ever, if what the lasses promised him were true. Turning his attention away from the game, Kazimir cleared his throat and picked up where his story left out, "Anyways, where was I? Ah right! So, this hunter guy. He hears tall o’ some awful nasty beast o’ a bear ‘at’s been givin’ the dwarves trouble. A hairy, foul, an’ snarlin’ thing, whose screeches made men’s ears bleed. But for the hunter, ooh no, it was a worthy challenge, the hunter thinks, an’ heads to the mountains where the dwarves lay, with bow an’ blade in hand." Wetting his lips, Kazimir raised his hands up, mimicking with his fingers the quiet pitter-patter steps the hunter took as he entered the caverns. "It is all quiet at first. No mouse-mousen-meesen-- no vermin ‘round to make a peep. The hunter barely able to hear anyttin’ but his own heart beatin’ fast in his chest. But then he hears it! The mighty squawlin’ o’ the bear!" Clapping his hands together loudly, Kazimir leapt to his feet and cupped his hands around his mouth as he let out a god-awful sound that carried in the hot summer sea wind. It caught the attention of the table, but Kazimir didn’t notice. He was lost in the tale. His eyes wide and distant, as if he was right there in the cave with the hunter. "Out o’ nowhere, it comes! Feet poundin’ on the stone!" Kazimir pounded the table with his hands. Thump thump thump! "The hunter is too slow. He can’t get his bow. It is on him. That hairy. ugly. beast." Kazimir grinned his own pearly whites at the minotaurs, big and menacing-like, so they, too, say the bear baring its fangs down upon the hunter. "It leans down to end him! One chomp to his tender throat!" He swiped a finger across his neck, before he slowly let his hand fall behind him, his other hand held up in front of him as if to keep his audience’s bated breath at bay. "But the hunter remembered what the wise ole Trollkin seer said. ‘That death finds him splayed out beneath the stars.’ Tonight is not his night. An’ that’s when he draws his dagger, an’ plunges it straight into the beast’s heart!" Slamming his fist into his hand, you’d almost think Kazimir done the heroic deed himself from the way the minotaurs cheered. It brought a grin to his face that made his squinty eyes shine. He staggered back down into his seat, let the noise settle before he dared to finish his tale. "Wit the fearsome beast dead, he heads to the dwarven clan leader in the mountain. Tells ‘im, ‘I slayed yer bear.’ The dwarf looks at the head presented to him, an’ he starts to laugh so hard his gut bounces. The hunter is confused, and asks him ‘what’s so funny?’" Kazimir smiled into his drink, as he said with impish glee. "’’cuz ‘at’s no bear!’ the dwarf laughs, ‘’at’s my ex-wife!’" The deck of the ship shook as several of the drunken minotaurs stomped their hooved feet in approval! Deep, throaty, braying laughter danced across the choppy water to disappear into the waves. "I di’n’t get it," said one heavyset bull. "’e’s married to a bear?" Whether his dull brown eyes were a result of his natural stupidity, or the effect of the liquor that Kaz has plied the Lady’s herd with this night was unclear to the elf. But several of the others jeered and laughed while the dice game and revelry went on. Even the silverback bosun, Vrakiras Roshgazi, laughed with Milkherem and a few of the larger or higher-ranking bullfolk. Vrakiras had begun the night watching Kaz closely with a scowl and crossed arms. His biceps had bulged menacingly as he watched for any signs of cheating or abuse of those he considered in his charge. But slowly, even Vrakiras had enjoyed some of the raspberry ale, quipping about the “fruity” flavor and lifting his enormous pinky from his stein like a dainty lady! Some of the human crew joined in the game, drawn by a little free ale and a chance to relax before the voyage began. Arnau Sartori, the first mate, had eyed the raucous group for a while but said nothing, grunting and shaking his head while leaving the supervision of the affair to Vrakiras. Sartori’s nephew, the lovestruck fop Arnau Bescóa, watched sullenly from the door belowdeck. His heckling shouts when Kaz lost coin eventually earned him the irritated ire of the minotaurs and older crew, who pelted Bescóa with grapes deemed too squishy to eat from the small crate that had been opened for the game. "Eh! I’m only teasin’!" shouts the fop. "He’s the one who says he’s a lover." Bescóa retreats down the gangway to the cheers of the drunken gamblers. The dice and coins are thrown for a while longer as the night sky moves across Midgard. A few of the crew have passed out on deck, snoring loudly or kicking with hooves at some unseen foe in their dreams. Several others have turned in for the night, staggering down to their hammocks in the dark holds. But a few remain, finishing the last of the liquor and trying to recoup some of the night’s losses. "Is this an open game?" says an oily, thickly-accented voice from the gangplank. Kaz looks up, his own eyes bleary and blinking away the fog of alcohol and fatigue. Squinting, slowing the hulking form of Fun Gus comes into focus. Gus is smiling, like he’s anticipating something. He holds a coin purse aloft in a knobby, bejeweled finger, jingling the contents to gain entry aboard The Sighing Lady like a caller to a manor would pull a bell-rope. The trollkin cutter looks straight at Kaz then. In a voice dripping with thinly-veiled meaning, he says, "I hear this is the place where debtors make good." Whoever said liquor gave men courage never faced a monster like Fun-Gus before. Even in the humid night air, Kazimir’s blood ran cold at the toothy grin Fun-Gus greeted him with. A fine reminder that even a good night could be spoiled by one second of bad luck. And Fun-Gus was a lot of spoiled somethings, but even with several minotaurs by his side, Kazimir hardly felt brave enough to risk his neck to say a single one of them. The hair on the back of his neck stood end as Fun-Gus continued to loom at the gangplank. The obvious number of minotaurs at Kazimir’s side was hardly a deter for Scarlet’s finest, and knowing that made Kazimir’s merry grin dim as he averted his gaze back to the game in play. "M’fraid not, friend." The word rolled off his tongue like a curse, swearing to the stars above that the trollkin was everything but someone nearand dear. "Wells gone dry on both ends!" He slapped the turned over keg barrel, and let its hollowed groan ring across the deck, barely a drop dripping from its open tap, before gesturing with a lackluster wave of his hand to the dismal pot in front of him. Wetting his suddenly dry lips, Kazimir forced a smile, and nodded back towards the city of Candano, whose lights slowly snuffed out as the night grew darker and darker. "But I betcha ye kind find plenty o’ games back in the tavvys on shore. Aye, aaaayyye, maybe try-- uh--" He snapped his fingers to try and regain his thoughts. "Oh, what’s ‘at the hole in ta wall’s name. Sumthin’ desert-y. Fancy. Ah!" It was then Kazimir bared his biggest of smiles, leaning back in his seat like a king on his throne as he named The Scarlet Blade’s own den. "The Oasis. ‘at’s what it is called. Why dontcha give ‘em a whirl, huh? Friend?" in other words, bugger off! Gus’ smile never wavered. If anything, it widened at Kaz’ clumsy dissembling. "The Oasis, you say?" Gus’ exotic accent dripped with menace. "Maybe I’ll see you there…friend. If not, I’m sure we will meet soon…when your table is less full. Then we’ll have a proper game." The grey-skinned trollkin pocketed his purse and turned, walking casually down the gangplank to the dock. From behind and above Kaz, Milkherem watched Gus disappear into the seafront district. The minotaur was completely drunk and steadied himself with a large hand on Kaz’ head. "You, my friend," slurred Milkherem, turning Kaz’ head around to face him with a simple flexing of his wrist. "You…" His glassy, bloodshot, bovine eyes blinked as he worked to maintain his concentration on what he was saying. His face was serious. "…are entirely…blue." Satisfied with the weight of his own proclamation, the bull stumbled toward the ladderwell and disappeared into the lower decks to find his bed. "It is ‘cuz o’ the poison," Kazimir answered Milkherem long after the minotaur headed down the steps to bed. Kazimir stretched his blue-stained fingers. His skin alien to him, more than ever as he stared at them in the dying candlelight with glazed eyes. "From the mines, ye see. Ye ain’t suppose ta work ‘em fer so long. Yer not suppose ta breathe in so much dust. But they dinnae care. ’Work ‘til your dead.’ Hm…" Kazimir chuckled to himself, as if he remembered a funny joke. And then slowly, pulled himself over to the ship’s edge, towards the encroaching darkness that was the ocean. Kazimir closed his eyes as he listened to the gentle rocking of the waves. His head full of strange, fuzzy thoughts. Fears and doubts. Heartaches and new hopes. And years, so many years that have gone by in the blink of an eye that he wished stayed forgotten, down at the bottom of his tankard. "I woulda liked to remember tonight. It was a good night. Even wit ‘at sour end. But I dun think it is gonna happen." Kazimir looked down at the minotaur sailor that was passed out at his feet. "It is funny, innit? Whatcha remember an’ whatcha don’t. Who you remember an’ who you forget. I think ‘bout that sometimes. I think ‘cuz I ain’t very memorable in the grand schemes o’ things. But I feel different about it here tonight. I have a--I have a feelin’, in me gut, that says so…" Kazimir hopped onto the ledge of the ship rail, and swung his legs above the water. With a stretch, he tilted his head back as he stared at the night sky. The stars hard to see with so much liquor swimming behind his eyes. but even still, he could somehow hear it. The Song. Here, and now. He heard it. Sifting through his consciousness like a waking dream, its notes came clear as day. Kazimir felt himself grow breathless. But he calmed himself. Eased his pounding heart, just long enough for him to sing what he remembered. In the twilight hours of the gods, where sleeping giants stirred, Kazimir sang. It was a bittersweet song. One of beginnings and ends, for all things that lived in the heart and soul of the Nine Realms. Of fates written and those yet spoken of. It was a song to end all songs. And it was beautiful. And sad. And more terrifying than words could say. It was everything Kazimir wanted to be, and more. And he sang it until his eyes were wet with tears and his stomach churned. He sang until his voice was raw and his throat bloody and still he sang until Kazimir could sing no more. It was only then he hurked five pounds of grape down the side of The Sighing Lady, falling backwards onto a slumbering minotaur that was passed out on deck. The world dark and distant. And the Song, his Song, all but a dream, as sleep finally came to rest on his weary head. Dead as a doorknob...   Kazimir refused to move an inch. Not a single inch. All in fear of what his body would do to him after last night’s festivities. As everything hurt, every inch of his glorious elven body cried and whined and scolded him for drinking until he was more liquor than man. It was a terrible affair that left him full of regret, and stomach acid. And prayers he knew his trickster god cared little for in the grand scheme of things. So, in the end, Kazimir tucked himself somewhere nice and dark on The Sighing Lady. Somewhere away from the hustle and bustle of the sailors, where he laid hidden beneath a tarp that was stretched over half empty crates, basking in the cool shadows, hating himself, and hating that sweet nectar that was ale even more as minutes moved like hours for the elf. "Never again…" he groaned, his voice hoarse, raw like he went and gargled glass from dusk til dawn. "Never again, I say, never again shall I partake in thine fruits, ye brew o’ the devil. Ooohhhnnn…ye…ye traitorous…sow…doin’ me dirty like this…" "You speak the Imperial Tongue, elf?" Kazimir grunted as light suddenly flooded into his sanctuary. and recoiled back into the shade, arms tossed over his face to shield his aching eyes from that foul sunlight. It took him a second for his eyes to adjust. Just long enough for his headache to pang twice as hard. But somewhere in the aches and pains, he saw a panting Batoyangi staring down at him. The big bastard spared him a grin that was too toothy for Kazimir’s tastes. A warning that his bite was just as mean as his bark. But it was his words Kazimir got lost in. His hungover mind ran in circles trying to decipher what the beast man said until Kazimir blurted out in recognition, "Wh-what? The Imperial…Oh! Ye mean-- err, shoot, how did ‘at soddin’ language work.... Soft r’s and hard s’s, wasn’t it? Uh! Aye! I know, erm, a bit. Enough to get me by." Batoyangi looked pleased with himself. Or at least as pleased any beast could be. His ears perked up and his tongue lolled lazily at his drooling maw as he announced proudly. "I am Batoyangi, the Constrictor. A toothy grin. We must share a drink soon, elf. Your stories amuse me." ‘His stories amused him.’ Wait. His stories. As in, Kazimir’s stories? Kazimir blinked wide startled eyes at big and nasty. Disbelief all but written on his face as he cocked his head to the side just as Batoyangi did. "Ye do? Huh…" He’ll be honest, he didn’t expect that from wolf man here. Scratching at his stubble, Kazimir squinted hard at the tall shadowy mass that was Batoyangi, thinking over his words careful-like. "Errr. Maybe wait on the drinks some, aye, pup. My stories are yers. But drinkin’ is sorta out o’ the…" question, he wanted to say, but Kazimir struggled to finish his sentence. Not while his furriest captor looked at him with such big puppy dog eyes. Kazimir bit the inside of his cheek. The word 'no' on the tip of his tongue. His rejection all but uttered. He couldn’t drink more. He couldn’t. His body wouldn’t allow it. And yet Kazimir wound up pulling himself up from the floor, swaying back and forth on a pair of wobbly legs before he shared his own weak toothy grin at the gnoll. "Alright. One drink. One. But iffin’ I die, ye get yer Badlands Witch friend to bring me back. I plan to out-live this lil’ venture yer all putin’ me through. Can’t be dyin’ on day one, ye get me?" The excitement on Batoyangi's face made Kazimir's stomach churn in protest, but Kazimir brushed it aside. Yesterday he did all he could to make peace with his captors. Turn enemies into allies. And enemies into scapegoats. What was one more day of punishment if it meant a better tomorrow. He supposed a dead liver, but bah, he could just grow another one of those, couldn't he? He could do that, right? Or was that one of his many lies? Ah well. Problems for future Kazimir. Leaning on Batoyangi for support, the blue-stained elf stared up at the gnoll with a look in his eye that made it clear that a burning question was on the elf's mind. Batoyangi could see it in his squinty eyes even as they made their way down to the kitchen. Kazimir seemingly debating asking it until finally he couldn't hold his curiosity back anymore. He had to know. "So are ye a girl dog or...?"

[4eyedBadger]

Ember From the bottom stair, Ember peers into the dark hold of The Sighing Lady. In this form, Nae’laa’s tiny elemental companion is a hunter. His long, lithe body is ostensibly that of a weasel. But the fiery orange stripe of fur down his back, set against the coal black of the rest of his pelt marks him as something else as well. He doesn’t remember much from his life before the jinnborn wizard of flame called him to serve her. But he can still feel the fire of that other place within him. Ember’s eyes aren’t especially strong in the darkness of the hold. But he has other tools. Silently, he listens to the open space in the distance. Somewhere ahead, a lantern is lit. He can smell the faint burning of the oil and see the light beyond the crates. He hears the creak of the wood as the merchant vessel carves her way through the surface of the great Middle Sea; Rising. Falling. Pitch and yaw. His hunting grounds are in constant motion, but over the last many days of the voyage Ember has learned to filter out the regular rhythms. He hears nothing else. Moving quickly but stealthily away from the bottom stair, across the open space toward the dark stacks of barrels and crates. Toward what called his other sense down here. Something sweet! Ember can smell it, even in the stale air this deep within the ship. Ember stops beside the cargo. He lifts his tiny nose into the air to try to catch more of the scent. It is definitely coming from deeper into the hold. scrape The small sound is nearly imperceptible, but his keen weasel ears perk. He does not move for many seconds, until the regular motion and sounds are the only thing he perceives. Well...that and the smell of his saccharine quarry. With another nearly silent sprint, Ember finds himself at the aft of the hold. The smell is strong. It is above him. He lifts his nose as high as he is able, then raises up his front legs slightly to gain even more height. There! On top of a lone barrel that stands on end like a makeshift table, in the light of a hanging lantern, sits a metal plate with a large, hot slice of fruit pie! The fork is abandoned. Hungrily, Ember moves closer. Nobody is around. A few errant crumbs on the planks of the hold give the weasel a delicious taste of what awaits him on top of the barrel! He places his front paws on the side of the barrel, his claws digging in as he prepares to climb. Scrape...scrape Ember freezes. He turns his head quickly toward the sound. There is movement near the stacked cargo! Not the heavy footfalls of the humans or the heavier hoofbeats of the minotaurs. This is the light scrabble of sharp claws on wood! Then they emerge. Two of them! Their eyes almost glow yellow in the poor light of the lantern. Their coarse fur is matted with bilge water and dirt. Their sharp incisors are revealed as they sniff the air here as well. Rats! Two big rats step into the space. They see Ember, then their eyes track up to his destination and the slice of pie that almost hangs tantalizingly over the edge of the barrel. On the scale of tiny creatures, the shrieks of the rats as they charge is nearly a roar! battle map

The Sighing Lady, nine days out from the port of Candano Over a week at sea and the passengers and crew of The Sighing Lady have settled into a comfortable routine of meals, dice, stories, song, study, and work. Captain del Magrina allows the crew a single drink at the evening meal every other day. Vrakiras makes it quite clear to Kaz that the prohibition applies to him as well, and that he will consider any breach a personal affront. The captain, Skrihn Vat, and Vrakiras have spent much time in the wardroom, so much of the running of the ship is left to Mister Sartori, whose face grows more sour by the day. There are whispers among the crew about the captain’s absence, but there is also work enough to keep their mind from such petty concerns. The minotaurs in particular grow sullen and quiet as the second week at sea begins. In those rare moments of leisure, they can often be seen along the starboard gunwale, staring across the waves somberly. Or into the clouds warily. It is the ninth night of the voyage, near midnight, by Azar’s estimation, when the entire ship is awakened by a deep, resonant note from a horn above deck. The note holds for near half a minute. Then a pause. Then the note begins again, and sustains for another half minute. The sound of rousing voices and boot falls on the sleeping decks herald the crews awakening. Outside the door of the guest cabin, the passage of many bodies can be heard heading up the stairs to the main deck. There is a pounding on the locked door. "All hands muster on deck," calls a voice through the thick wood. It sounds like Milkherem, and his tone is grave. Minutes later, emerging onto the deck of the ship beneath an unusually dark sky, a strange sight greets the passengers and crew; Captain del Magrina stands on the foredeck, looking out over the assembly. He wears his dress uniform, buttons and boots polished to high shine. His stiff collar rises high behind his neck, a brilliant white. The scabbard and hilt of his sword twinkle like stars in the lantern light. Beside him stands Vrakiras Roshgazi, silver bull bosun of The Sighing Lady. He stands tall, at attention. A large, curved horn…much larger that his own that are attached to his bovine head…rests in the crook of his muscular arm. The horn is brass, but fashioned to resemble an animal horn. Carved along its entire length are a complex series of lines. At first, Zenda thinks it is a language. But when the light hits it just right, she sees the marking pattern for what it is. A maze! Above the ship, the moon is dark. At its newest phase, the orb is little more than a circle of absent stars as it makes its way stealthily across the sky. The sea itself is calm. The dark waters lap at the sides of the ship as though trying to escape drowning in their own cavernous darkness beneath. A wispy blanket of mist sits upon the water. To the south, the mists are thicker, obscuring vision. But to the southwest, an orange light rises into the dark night. Batoyangi’s keen eyes mark it for what it is; a pillar of fire on a dark shore. "The alchemists keep the restless dead at bay," says an old, ruddy-nosed sailor from beside the gnoll. He spits into the water, then looks abashed at himself for doing so. Batoyangi can just barely make out the shapes of ruined buildings in the light of the distant fire. "Gramvar," says del Magrina when the assembly is complete. "Burned by the dragons and left a smoldering ruin." His voice is officious, like a priest at a burial. "Nothing living roams those streets any longer. The lives of thousands were snuffed out by the flame drakes in minutes. Thousands!" His voice takes on anger, but a measured anger. "The people of Kyprion had no time to mourn," continues the captain. "Their wardens contain the spirits of Gramvar to the ruins, hunting what wanders too far into the countryside. Their queen is nearly besieged, begging for relief from the fleets of Triolo." There is grumbling amongst the minotaurs at the mention of the patron state of the minotaur island. del Magrina raises his voice over the rumblings. "That relief will not come soon! And while they wait, the people of Chamiras die beneath the whips of the Mharoti, fortifying the city for their captors." The human crew begins to look uncomfortable. Arnau Sartori scowls. The captain looks toward the human men and women. "It is not just the bull-folk who suffer. The dragons consider all the non-scaly races to be inferior. Only worthy of serving! And it will not stop with them!" The handsome nobleman of Capleon looks less a captain of the sea this night, and more a captain of soldiers. His eyes find Batoyangi, then Zenda. "Kyprion was not the first land to fall." Now he looks to Nae’laa, Kazimir, and Azar, as well as the rest of the crew. "And the dragons’ hunger will not be sated here!" Some of the crew has their passions stirred up, and some shouts of assent greet the captain’s fierce gaze. "We are Capleoni. And we are free! We owe fealty to none but our own hearts." More cheers, from human and minotaur alike. "But my heart will not allow me to blindly pass by the suffering of a noble people and do nothing! Many of us have served together for years. We have faced storms and death together. We have repelled boarders together. We have committed shipmates to the depths together. And I will not ignore the plight of any of my crew." Sartori’s scowl deepens, but del Magrina pays him no heed, focusing instead on the upturned faces of the minotaurs. "I will strike a blow against oppression. We cannot liberate an entire land ourselves, my friends. But we can liberate their heart and give them hope to continue their fight!" The minotaurs, every last bull and cow, cry out in their braying way! Their chests fill and their hooves stamp with anticipation. Several of the humans join in and shout, but most look unsure. It is them that the captain addresses now. "This is a merchant vessel. I do not lead you to war. But, by the will of Hecate, for one night I would lead you to battle. To strike a spark on this land. The Lady fan that spark, and perhaps it will grow into a flame that can burn even a dragon!" voyage map

OOC   Embers battle is a brief little aside for Days. I like to give the mounts and familiars a little spotlight so they don’t get forgotten, and to give casters a chance to flex their familiar muscles. Ember, as a creature of fire, has the base stats of a weasel (AC 13, speed of 30’) with a couple changes; He has resistance to fire damage and his bite attack does fire damage instead of piercing. Roll 1d4-1 for Ember’s hit points please. His initiative bonus is +3. The rats are going on a 12 initiative, so if Ember beats that he can act right away. The rats have an AC of 10 and a speed of 20 feet, so Ember has some advantages to make up for being outnumbered. His objective is to keep the fruit pie to himself. He can run away, of course, but that’s a win for the rats. I’m leaving the timing of Ember’s encounter vague. It could easily be occurring at the same time as the events on deck, which could explain why the hold is unoccupied and the pie got left behind. But it could just as easily have been any time during the nine day journey so far. I’ll leave the timing up to Days. As for the larger events happening, the “stars” really aligned for this post! I DID NOT plan this at all but the distance and route meant about nine days of sea travel (based on core rules) to reach Gramvar. When I put it on the calendar I saw this put the date of the memorial ceremony on deck at the first day of Goldflower, a Moonday, and the date of the new moon, AND the date of the summer solstice! During the New Moon, Hecate is the Lady of Shadows, graceful, decisive and deadly, capricious and vengeful! If that’s not auspicious for a stealth expedition on behalf of Hecate, I don’t know what is! Veles Campaign Calendar

[Lazer]

The Seminary was quiet, far more quiet than it should have been. Where were the voices of the dozens of children? Where was the constant crackle of flame? The whip-cracks? The moaning? Azar was walking down a short vaulted-stone corridor. There was a reinforced wooden door at the end of it and it was open just a crack. That was unusual too, the Master never left his door open! Azar crept tentatively forward, her bare feet pattering on the roughly-hewn stone. As she passed each darkened alcove she couldn't help but peer into the shadows, almost expecting to see… something. She wasn't sure what. Alcove after alcove passed, far more than there should have been, and then suddenly she was at the door. She reached out tentatively and then stopped with her hand on the rough wood. She should go back. It was better not to be here. She had to blend in, except during the testing, only coming to the notice of the masters through excellence. Despite every iota of her will urging her back, her small hand pushed the door open. Gliding through she looked furtively around, taking in the marble colonnades and silken draperies. She felt no surprise to find that she was not in Satra bin-Riks' room, this was the Adelian Palace. Specifically, she found herself in the Sultana's salon. The Lady Casmara sat at a small table placed in the centre of the area where she usually received guests. She gazed at herself in a large mirror and was tugging a brush through her hair, a look of distress on her face. Azar rushed forward and took the brush from her hands, gently but firmly pulling it down the length of the Sultana's long black tresses. "Back so soon, Azar?" the Sultana's reflection asked her. She inclined her head in deferential agreement. "My lady needs me," she said. "And what do you need, Azar?" Azar paused to consider the question, and when she looked at her hand once again it held not the brush, but a long curved dagger. "Is this what you want?" Casmara was looking at her hungrily, but only now did Azar realise that something was wrong. The sultana's hair was not black, it should be white-blonde and when she looked into the eyes which should have been ice-blue all that she could see was a pool of inky blackness which seemed to suck her in. "The choice is yours,"the sultana-who-was-not said. "But…" Azar's objection died on her lips as a loud baying filled the room. She looked up to see a flash of blue as Annicrat roared from the balcony. The dream dissolved and Azar realised that it was no dragon-roar that she could hear, but some kind of note on a horn. She took a long breath and let the dream go, standing in one fluid motion as she caused all of the lamps in the room to spring alight. Somebody was knocking insistently and urging them onto the deck so she hurriedly splashed some water on her face, donned her slippers and then grabbed her hat from beside the cot. She had grown accustomed to wearing no disguise amongst this small group, but she couldn't possibly let the crew see her heritage. "What can be so important?" she asked the others, "If we were under attack I would expect more urgency, and yet they wake us in the dead of night." For a moment she wondered if they had discovered her art somewhere on the ship and were considering it vandalism and opting for some nautical version of justice, but she put the thought aside as ludicrous. She had done no permanent damage, no sane person would be so concerned with a few flamed etchings. She clumped up the steep stairs and into the dark of a cloudless and nearly moonless night. Above her the stars were a breathtaking wash of mottled colours and she took several moments just to enjoy them. With a sigh she pulled her eyes away and joined the crew who were congregated at the starboard side of the ship. They were all gazing out into the night and the mood was definitely somber. She followed their gaze, seeing orange flame dancing off in the distance. Wasn't there some story of fires at nights on the ocean? Some superstition that sailors worried about? But that line of thought was quickly quashed as a sailor commented on its cause. Alchemists? Restless dead? Her stomach went icy cold as she suddenly had an inkling of what they were looking at. Could it be? "Gramvar," said del Magrina, as though he had read her mind. Some part of her continued to follow his words, automatically parsing and cataloguing them, but for the most part she was lost in memory. The charming little harbour where Rafolo had bought her a live oyster, insisting it would be hiding a pearl for her. Of course it wasn't, and he had threatened to keep buying them, one after another, until they found one that did. Or the charming little seaside tavern in which Rafolo and Markos had introduced her to the local liquor, zikana. Minstrels, strumming enthusiastically, had wandered between tables, and they had watched the local fishermen relax, having sold their catch, by diving bare-chested from the nearby cliffs. The town had been so full of life, and now they had to summon huge pillars of fire to prevent the bodies of those same people from taking their revenge upon the living. She found that her jaw muscles were aching as she kept it clenched shut to prevent her lip from trembling. Tears boiled and evaporated as soon as they left her eyes, leaving dark residue behind on her skin. Her fingernails dug into the palm of her hands, a pain much sharper and more intense than that of her jaw, but still not enough to overcome the rage she was feeling. Finally the captain's words started to penetrate her thoughts. He was trying to stir the crew to action! She could feel the fire inside of herself responding; yes, burn them all! But the rational part of her looked on in disbelief. "You wish to strike a spark?" she found herself growling when del Magrina had finished his speech. "You? One little merchant crew? When the entire island of Kyprion could do nothing but watch?" She shook her head, a look of disgust on her face. "I knew the people of Gramvar, a little. I visited there recently and there will always be a part of it in my heart. What was done…" No words seemed strong enough for the emotions she was feeling but she let them play out plainly on her face, letting the whole crew see the outrage and grief that she was experiencing. "Throwing your own lives away will not bring back Gramvar. Pouring your blood into the harbour will not liberate the people of Chamiras. What is done, is done, and the best you can hope for is to not be noticed by the dragons. That is how you survive. That is the only victory possible."

 

Actions Move: Action: Ready Action: Bonus Action: Reaction: Interaction: Contingencies: Concentration: Disguise Status: Base-human Azar (no eye-glow or scales) Notes:

 

Azar al-Muhaqiq
Human (Variant) Sorcerer 6
Ability Mods Str -1 Int +1 Dex +2 Wis +1 Con +2 Cha +4 Sheet	Defenses HP 44/44 AC 15 P.Perc 11 Init +2 Speed 30 Prof +3 Senses Darkvision to 60 feet while wearing Goggles of NightNormal	Key Skills Deception +7 Insight +4 Intimidation +7 Investigation +4 Stealth +5 - - Sorcery Points 6/6	Spell Slots 1st-level 4/4 2nd-level 3/3 3rd-level 3/3 4th-level 0/0	Abilities Liaison to network of spies. Can get messages to and from the Mharoti Empire.Contact Spells you cast ignore fire resistance. In addition, when you roll damage for a spell you cast that deals damage of that type, you can treat any 1 on a damage die as a 2.Elemental Adept (Fire) You are well-versed in surviving in hostile environments, even thriving where others are sure to perish. You gain the following benefits. • Increase your Constitution or Wisdom score by 1, to a maximum of 20. • You require only half the food and water normally required for a creature of your size. • You can withstand extreme temperatures indefinitely and automatically succeed on saving throws against extreme heat and cold for a number of days equal to your Constitution or Wisdom modifier, whichever is lower. After this time, you must make saving throws as normal, until you spend 24 hours in a comfortable temperature.Survivor You have a number of Sorcery Points equal to your Sorcerer Level which recharge when you finish a long rest. You can use a bonus action to regain spell slots equal to the number of Sorcery Points spent. You can also use a bonus action to spend spell slots to regain Sorcery Points as follows (Slot/Points); 1/2, 2/3. 3/5. 4/6, 5/7.Font of Magic When you cast a spell, you can spend 1 sorcery point to cast it without any somatic or verbal components.Subtle Spell When you cast a spell that targets only one creature and doesn’t have a range of self, you can spend a number of sorcery points equal to the spell’s level to target a second creature in range with the same spell (1 sorcery point if the spell is a cantrip).Twinned Spell As magic flows through your body, it causes physical traits of your dragon ancestors to emerge. At 1st level, your hit point maximum increases by 1 and increases by 1 again whenever you gain a level in this class. Additionally, parts of your skin are covered by a thin sheen of dragon-like scales. When you aren’t wearing armor, your AC equals 13 + your Dexterity modifier.Draconic Resilience Starting at 6th level, when you Cast a Spell that deals Fire damage, you can add your Charisma modifier to one damage roll of that spell. At the same time, you can spend 1 sorcery point to gain Resistance to that damage type for 1 hour.Elemental Affinity	Equipment Fire Crystal (Arcane Focus) Common Clothes Dagger x2 Thieves' Tools Goggles of Night Medallion of Thoughts (3/3 charges) Hat of Disguise Backpack -Bedroll -Mess kit -Tinderbox -Torch (10) -Rations (10 days) -Waterskin -Crowbar -Hempen Rope -Forgery Kit -The Many Robust Pages of Baroness Bressallia Belt pouch with 20 platinum and 13.5 gold Equipment Languages Common Draconic Ignan Languages Tool Proficiencies Thieves' Tools Forgery Tools Cooking Utensils Tools

Spells Known
Cantrips	1st	2nd	3rd	4th	5th	6th	7th	8th	9th
Cont Flames	Disq Gaze	Scorcher	Fireball	-	-	-	-	-	-
Fire Bolt	Chrom Orb	Enl/Red	Haste	-	-	-	-	-	-
Message	Shield	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-
Presti	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-
P of Smoke	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-

[Vislands]

Perhaps Batoyangi the Constrictor knew more of the central tongue than he let on, or perhaps it was simply because he too knew the lash of dragon-kind, the undying storm of rage of which he had only been able to release droplets. On the shore he could see more lights and outlines of buildings, enough now that he had an idea of what the rest of the city must look like. Ruin. The bellow of pain and defiance rang out from the Minotaur and while the men yelled, Bato howled his infernal howl downward, into the planks below. There was no doubt that he was with them, and an invisible boundary that had been maintained so far in the sea journey between the gnoll gladiator and the bovine warriors and crewmen melted. The gnoll stood and made to go move among them, when the witch began to speak. Bato turned to her, his small triangular ears turning to attention, his instincts sniffing for one of her deceptions, another paranoid scheme. But, instead he could smell the sulphuric smell of her tears as they evaporated on her cheek. Bato could rarely tell what that dragon-blooded woman was thinking, but rage recognized rage. Instead of a sharp reprisal in the imperial tongue, Azar felt the weight of a large bestial hand on her shoulder. He said nothing to the mage nor looked at her, but stood behind her left side, an unmovable presence, looking on towards the faces of the captain and the crew, many of which had stopped and turned at Azar's outburst. Bato looked to del Magrina, then drew his shield of hardened leather from his back. It was weathered, similar to a rectangular kite in shape and threatening by how much evidence of its survival marred its surface: countless scratches and wounds crisscrossed the dark, well oiled, leather, and deep red stains splattering so much of its surface that the shield itself had taken on the dark red aspect of injury. The chef had his knives, the blacksmith her hammer. The Constrictor's instrument of purpose, the purpose being death - Adarga. The gnoll grinned, then sniffed the air. His central tongue was rough, half-gibbering. But understandable. "Howww will you do this, Captain?"

OOC   Actions Move: Action: Equip Adarga (shield). Bonus Action: Reaction: Interaction: Contingencies: Notes/Rolls: Batoyangi Level 6 Civilized Gnoll Beast Barbarian [5] / Rogue [1] HP: 63/63 | AC: 18 | Speed: 40 ft. | PP: 16/Scent21 | Senses: Darkvision (60 Ft.) | HD: 5/5 d12+3 & 1/1 d8+3 Status: Feats: You use shields not just for protection but also for offense. You gain the following benefits while you are wielding a shield: If you take the Attack action on your turn, you can use a bonus action to try to shove a creature within 5 feet of you with your shield. If you aren't incapacitated, you can add your shield's AC bonus to any Dexterity saving throw you make against a spell or other harmful effect that targets only you. If you are subjected to an effect that allows you to make a Dexterity saving throw to take only half damage, you can use your reaction to take no damage if you succeed on the saving throw, interposing your shield between yourself and the source of the effect. Shield Master, You have achieved a penetrating precision in combat, granting you the following benefits: Increase your Strength by 1, to a maximum of 20. Once per turn, when you hit a creature with an attack that deals piercing damage, you can reroll one of the attack’s damage dice, and you must use the new roll. When you score a critical hit that deals piercing damage to a creature, you can roll one additional damage die when determining the extra piercing damage the target takes. Piercer, You have advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on smell.Scent, Although gnolls are cowardly at heart, they like to disguise their fears by abusing others. You have disadvantage on saving throws against being frightened. On the other hand, whenever you make a Charisma (Intimidation) check for dealing with obviously smaller or weaker targets, you are considered proficient in the Intimidation skill and add double your proficiency bonus to the check, instead of your normal proficiency bonus.Bully, When you take the Disengage action, your base walking speed is increased by 10 feet.Live to Fight Another Day, Whenever you make a Charisma (Persuasion) check for dealing with obviously bigger or more powerful targets, you are considered proficient in the Persuasion skill and add double your proficiency bonus to the check, instead of your normal proficiency bonus.Obsequious Skills: Acrobatics (+5), Animal Handling (+3), Athletics (+10), Perception (+6), Sleight of Hand (+5), Stealth (+5) Tools: Thieves Tools (+5) Languages: Broken Common, Draconic, Gnollish, Thieves' Cant Combat Equipment: Javelin (+7 <> 1d6+4), Adarga Magic Items: -attuned- While you wear these boots, your walking speed becomes 30 feet, unless your walking speed is higher, and your speed isn't reduced if you are encumbered or wearing Heavy Armor. In addition, you can jump three times the normal distance, though you can't jump farther than your remaining Movement would allow. [B]Current Jump Distances (with/without) 10 ft. running start: Long Jump - 54/27 ft. High Jump - 21/10.5 ft. ...you cannot jump over any obstacles that are taller than 13.5 feet.Footwraps of Striding and Springing Abilities Str Dex Con Int Wis Cha Score: 18 14 16 8 10 8 Modifier: +4 +2 +3 -1 0 -1 Saves: +7 +2 +6 -1 0 -1 Abilities: In battle, you fight with primal ferocity. On your turn, you can enter a rage as a bonus action. While raging, you gain the following benefits if you aren’t wearing heavy armor: You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws. When you make a melee weapon attack using Strength, you gain a bonus to the damage roll that increases as you gain levels as a barbarian, as shown in the Rage Damage column of the Barbarian table. You have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. If you are able to cast spells, you can’t cast them or concentrate on them while raging. Your rage lasts for 1 minute. It ends early if you are knocked unconscious or if your turn ends and you haven’t attacked a hostile creature since your last turn or taken damage since then. You can also end your rage on your turn as a bonus action. Once you have raged the number of times shown for your barbarian level in the Rages column of the Barbarian table, you must finish a long rest before you can rage again.Rage [ ] [ ] [ ] | While you are not wearing any armor, your Armor Class equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier + your Constitution modifier. You can use a shield and still gain this benefit.Unarmored Defense | Starting at 2nd level, you can throw aside all concern for defense to attack with fierce desperation. When you make your first attack on your turn, you can decide to attack recklessly. Doing so gives you advantage on melee weapon attack rolls using Strength during this turn, but attack rolls against you have advantage until your next turn.Reckless Attack | When you reach 3rd level (Perception) and again at 10th level, you gain proficiency in one skill of your choice from the list of skills available to barbarians at 1st level.Primal Knowledge | When you enter your rage, you can transform, revealing the bestial power within you. Until the rage ends, you manifest a natural weapon. It counts as a simple melee weapon for you, and you add your Strength modifier to the attack and damage rolls when you attack with it, as normal. You choose the weapon’s form each time you rage: Bite. Your mouth transforms into a bestial muzzle or great mandibles (your choice). It deals 1d8 piercing damage on a hit. Once on each of your turns when you damage a creature with this bite, you regain a number of hit points equal to your proficiency bonus, provided you have less than half your hit points when you hit. Claws. Each of your hands transforms into a claw, which you can use as a weapon if it’s empty. It deals 1d6 slashing damage on a hit. Once on each of your turns when you attack with a claw using the Attack action, you can make one additional claw attack as part of the same action. Tail. You grow a lashing, spiny tail, which deals 1d8 piercing damage on a hit and has the reach property. If a creature you can see within 10 feet of you hits you with an attack roll, you can use your reaction to swipe your tail and roll a d8, applying a bonus to your AC equal to the number rolled, potentially causing the attack to miss you.Form of the Beast | Beginning at 1st level, you know how to strike subtly and exploit a foe’s distraction. Once per turn, you can deal an extra 1d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon. You don’t need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn’t incapacitated, and you don’t have disadvantage on the attack roll. The amount of the extra damage increases as you gain levels in this class, as shown in the Sneak Attack column of the Rogue table.Sneak Attack | At 1st level, choose two of your skill proficiencies, or one of your skill proficiencies and your proficiency with thieves’ tools (Athletics, Perception). Your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses either of the chosen proficiencies. At 6th level, you can choose two more of your proficiencies (in skills or with thieves’ tools) to gain this benefit.Expertise

[hafrogman]

Zenda, Swordswoman of Ishadia "Azar is right, Captain." Zenda shook her head ruefully. "What can one little merchant crew hope to accomplish? Keep your head down, don't get noticed, don't rock the rock the boat. At least..." At this, the swordswoman whirled in place dramatically, facing the crew now. "...that is what they want us to think, isn't it?" The look she flashed the Mharoti sorceress was one of unashamed self-satisfaction, not unlike that of a cat who has gotten into the cream. "The tyrants and despots of the world would like nothing better than for all the people to submit... stop struggling... give up. But why?" The Ishadian spread her hands in a questioning gesture, but did not wait for an answer. "Because they know. They gained their power through violence, but they keep it through fear and intimidation! They want... no, they need everyone to be scared of them. Because they know that if everyone stood together, united... then their reigns of terror would come to close." Zenda was pacing back and forth along the planks of the deck now, feeling the stir of action in her own blood, her voice raising in crescendo. "What can one group do against the might of an empire? Well, I'll tell you!" She balled up one fist, raising it in front of her. "We can give them a bloody nose!" She dropped her voice lower, a stage whisper, still loud enough to carry. "Now, a bloody nose might not seem like much against a dragon... but it serves a purpose. It reminds the rest of the world that the dragons can bleed! They are not gods, despite what they might want us to believe. The time has come to teach the nations of Midgard that fact. Remind them that scales can be cracked, wings can be torn and dragons can be slain!" The Ishadian dancer drew one hooked blade, and held it above her head. It was the merest act of will to summon forth the radiance from her soul and lime the sword's edge in glowing light. "I will go with you, Captain. We may not win a war this night. But I will gladly help you light the spark."

OOC   Mechanics Move: Action: Cast Light on her sword. Bonus Action:   Stat Block Zenda | Aasimar (Scourge) | Fighter (Sword Dancer) | Level 6 HP: 52/52 | AC: studded leather19 | PP: Darkvision 60'13 | Initiative: +3 | Speed: 30ft Stats: Str 10 (+0), Dex 17 (+3), Con 14 (+2), Int 12 (+1), Wis 10 (+0), Cha 16 (+3) Saves: Str +3 | Con +5 Attacks: Attack +6 ; 1d8+3 slashing damage ; Extra AttackTemple Sword, Attack +6 ; 1d8+3 slashing damageTemple Sword, off-hand Skills: Acrobatics +6 | Deception +6 | History +4 | Perception +3 | Performance +9 | Persuasion +6 | Survival +3 Languages: Common, CelestialEnochian, DraconicMharoti Relevant Equipment: Midgard Word Book, pg. 401Temple Sword (x2), Studded Leather Armor, While wearing this ring, you can cast the jump spell from it as a bonus action at will, but can target only yourself when you do so.Ring of Jumping (A), While these bracers are worn, any time you are targeted by a spell or effect which imposes the frightened condition, you may use a reaction to gain advantage on a saving throw against the spell or effect. Forged in Magic: Reforged, pg. 157Valor Guards (A), You regain 2d4+2 hit points when you drink this potion.Potion of Healing (x3) You have resistance to necrotic damage and radiant damage.Celestial Resistance | You know the Light cantrip. Charisma is your spellcasting ability for it.Light Bearer | Your life in the open desert has adapted your body to a range of environmental conditions. You may survive on 1 gallon of water in hot conditions (or ½ gallon in normal conditions) without being forced to make Constitution saving throws and you are considered “naturally adapted” to hot climates (see DMG pg. 110). You are also able to read the natural environment to predict natural weather patterns and temperatures for the next 24 hours, allowing you to cross dangerous terrain at the best times. The accuracy of these predictions are up to the DM, but should be largely reliable unless affected by magic or unforeseeable events such as distant earthquakes or volcanic eruptions.Nomad | Feat: You master fighting with two weapons, gaining the following benefits: You gain a +1 bonus to AC while you are wielding a separate melee weapon in each hand. You can use two-weapon fighting even when the one-handed melee weapons you are wielding aren't light. You can draw or stow two one-handed weapons when you would normally be able to draw or stow only one. Dual Wielder | Fighting Style: When you engage in two-weapon fighting, you can add your ability modifier to the damage of the second attack.Two-Weapon Fighting | Martial Archetype: Midgard Heroes Handbook, pg. 39Sword-Dancer | While wearing light or no armor, you can add your Charisma modifier (minimum of 1) to your armor class, and you ignore difficult terrain.Light on Your Feet | You can attack twice, instead of once, whenever you take the Attack action on your turn.Extra Attack | Feat: You have honed your proficiency with particular skills, granting you the following benefits: Increase one ability score of your choice (Dexterity) by 1, to a maximum of 20. You gain proficiency in one skill of your choice (Deception). Choose one skill in which you have proficiency (Performance). You gain expertise with that skill, which means your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make with it. The skill you choose must be one that isn’t already benefiting from a feature, such as Expertise, that doubles your proficiency bonus. Skill Expert   Powers and Abilities Scourge Aasimar As an action, you can touch a creature and cause it to regain a number of hit points equal to your level. Once you use this trait, you can't use it again until you finish a long rest.Healing Hands [ ] You can use your action to unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing a searing light to radiate from you, pour out of your eyes and mouth, and threaten to char you. Your transformation lasts for 1 minute or until you end it as a bonus action. During it, you shed bright light in a 10-foot radius and dim light for an additional 10 feet, and at the end of each of your turns, you and each creature within 10 feet of you take radiant damage equal to half your level (rounded up). In addition, once on each of your turns, you can deal extra radiant damage to one target when you deal damage to it with an attack or a spell. The extra radiant damage equals your level. Once you use this trait, you can't use it again until you finish a long rest.Radiant Consumption [ ] Fighter You have a limited well of stamina that you can draw on to protect Yourself from harm. On your turn, you can use a bonus action to regain hit points equal to 1d10 + your fighter level. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again. Second Wind [ ] You can push yourself beyond your normal limits for a moment. On your turn, you can take one additional action. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again. Action Surge [ ]

[4eyedBadger]

The Sighing Lady, midnight on the first day of Goldflower The handsome merchant captain’s smile is a mixture of relief and enthusiasm as he nods appreciatively at Zenda’s fiery speech. The smile hardens with resolve as he brings his clenched fist across his chest in salute to Batoyangi. "When the dragons burned Gramvar," says del Magrina, gesturing toward the ruins and the pillar of fire on the distant coast. "The people of Chamiras, minotaur and man, came to their aid." His tone is somber, but filled with resolve. "And when they did, an entire legion of Mharoti emerged from the fog in the south to sack Chamiras. The battle was a slaughter." At this, Bato can hear the deep rumblings of bovine anger from the bulls. "Within days," continues the captain. "Aarush Vadula, the red dragon commander, put hundreds of minotaurs to death. She strung up their corpses in the streets and the squares. Hung them from the walls. Placed them in the houses of their families. Draped them over wells and dropped them into the cisterns. None are allowed to disturb her ”rotting herd” on pain of death. The survivors are forced to live and walk among their dead, as a reminder that they are all expendable to their new masters." del Magrina does not hide his disgust. He gives a respectful pause of silence for the dead before speaking again. "But the Horned Governor of Chamiras, the bull Yikashata…she kept alive." There is a tinge of pity in these words. "Keeping him chained within her quarters in the occupied Palace of Palms, Vadula tortures him nightly, letting his screams of pain and despair echo across the city for all to hear." del Magrina’s hand clenches around the hilt of his sword. "The people of Chamiras are broken. The rest of Kyprion are nearing despair, as their queen waits for Triolan aid that will not come. Tonight, I would strike a blow for Kyprion. Under the dark moon of the Lady of Shadows, I will enter Chamiras!" His voice grows louder, as the herd among the crew low their assent. "I will enter the Palace of Palms! And I will free Yikashata! I will show the dragons…and the minotaurs…that the fight is not gone from those who oppose tyranny!" Cheers rise up from minotaurs and men! But not all are convinced. "Chamiras is a fortress," says Arnau Sartori, shaking his head. The Sighing Lady’s first mate looks hard at his captain. "For two months they’ve been digging! Enough earthworks and trenches and funneling palisades to eat up a dozen companies!" Some of the more reticent human crew nod their assent at this. "And Chamiras is almost two days south, with flights of the fire-spitters in the air and I dare say more’n one scaly swimmer in the water, watching the approach." He spits over the railing, careful not to disrespect the deck of their ship. "You’d not set your foot on the land before they killed us all." The captain has a heavy, but genuine smile for his first mate. "You are not wrong, my friend," he says. "…if we were to approach as a company of men would. But there is another way." At this, he looks to Vrakiras Roshgazi. The big, silver bull looks hard at Sartori. The distant fire reflects red in his large, bovine eyes. "The Labyrinth," he says. Some of the older minotaurs suddenly cease their excited braying. But Vrakiras goes on. "The magic of The Great Maze will carry us into Chamiras, below the very palace itself." Even those humans who had been enthused up until this point now look somewhat confused. "The great mazes of my people are more than halls of stone. They are more than crypts for our ancestors or vaults for our treasures." Vrakiras raises his muscular arms. His eyes take on a fervor. "The mazes connect us. From the ancient cities of Roshgazi and Cindass, to Vespras, the City of Song, even to Chamiras. It connects our past and our present. Wherever my people dwell long, we add on to The Maze. It is one Maze. One Labyrinth. Transcending Midgard and time. And it will carry us beneath the Mharoti legion to strike a blow for our people!" He is looking directly at the assembled minotaurs now, almost daring them to deny the power of The Maze. None do. Even the humans fall silent. del Magrina steps past Vrakiras again and takes up his speech. "They call us jambuka. Jackals. Well, the jackal is a hunter! Running far by night in small packs to take down prey many times larger than themselves." He smiles, that handsome, aristocratic smile of a charismatic noble. "Let us become the jackal, and teach them to fear it!" Now the cheers erupt! Calloused hands raise in fists and heavy hooves stomp the deck. Finally, the old, ruddy-nosed sailor who had first greeted Azar and Zenda in the hold, the night they had fought the Wharf Rats, speaks up over the dying shouts. "An’ how do we enter this maze, Cap’n?" The captain nods appreciatively at the old sailor. "There is an entrance there, Mister Mendogen." He draws his gleaming sword and points it toward the dark shore, with its silhouettes of ruined buildings and flickering shadows in the orange light of the fires. "In the necropolis of Gramvar."

OOC   Through the haunted labyrinth into the enemy stronghold! Minotaur-jackal-ninja mission! Who’s up for it?!

[Lazer]

Azar was reeling at Zenda's speech. First she had seemed to be agreeing with Azar, a wonder in its own right! But the words which followed hit right to the bone of the Mharoti agent. "…They gained their power through violence, but they keep it through fear and intimidation!" Azar had been the very agent of fear and intimidation that Zenda was talking about. It had been bred into her, then drummed in to her constantly all through her childhood. The dragons were to be feared, none could stand against them, they and their kin were superior and none could deny it. Her head reeled as the tiny seed of doubt which had lodged in her some months ago started to blossom. "…they need everyone to be scared of them. Because they know that if everyone stood together, united... then their reigns of terror would come to close." Could that be true? The dragons were powerful and their advance across the continent seemed unstoppable, but if they truly were invincible, why did they need people like Azar spreading fear? Why did they have a security apparatus at all, spies and interrogators weeding out disidents? If they didn't fear the Jambuka, why? And still Zenda's words pummeled her, making her sit heavily on the balustrade at the side of the ship. "…They are not gods, despite what they might want us to believe." Not gods, no, but surely close enough. Surely much closer to those beings than they were to such vermin as humans or minotaurs? But they had brought down two wyverns themselves back in Candano. Perhaps not true dragons, but certainly far beyond a single human. And yet a small group working together had bested them. Such thoughts were swept away as del Magrina began to tell the story of the decimation of Gramvar. In her mind she could see Rafolo, the fool, leading the Watch in battle, heedless of any personal danger. She could see him on the walls, sword raised defiantly as he exhorted his troops on and was engulfed by dragon fire. It would have served him right, the damned buffoon! He should have run! But she knew that he would have been too honourable for that. She listened with numb detachment to the story, how the ones who went to aid Gramvar were tricked and their own home was taken right out from under them, and then how they were treated afterwards. She knew the orthodox view in the Empire that you must impose your will on the subjugated immediately, you must cow them, make the thought of resistance unthinkable. But now she wondered why that was so important. The only reason she could think of was fear. The dragons, for all their power and ferocity, truly feared humans. Perhaps not as individuals, but as a cohesive force. Zenda was right. The captain had riled up his men now, and Azar listened as he laid out his plan. She looked at the others, at Bato and Zenda who had already thrown their lot in with these new rebels, at Nae'laa and Kaz who were, like her, watching on the periphery. They had their own mission to accomplish, they must not be sidetracked, especially by something so dangerous and foolish as this! And yet the fire burned hot in her, the very part of her that she had inherited from the dragons. It roared in her breast, demanding to be unleashed, demanding vengeance. And now she realised that the only thing holding it back was her fear, the fear which had been so carefully cultivated and reinforced her whole life. As a slave Azar had been special, not since she was a small child did she feel the cold bite of a manacle on her skin, but she realised now that the chains holding her in check had been of a different sort. Steel would never have held one such as she, they needed chains in her head, they needed her to be scared. And just like that she chose to let the fear go, she slipped the chains and stood tall on the deck, letting the disguise drop so that everyone could see what she was. "I know Gramvar," she said to del Magrina, trying not to snarl the words as the anger overtook her. "I should go, and pity any Mharoti who get in my way!"

 

Actions Move: Action: Ready Action: Bonus Action: Reaction: Interaction: Contingencies: Concentration: Disguise Status: None Notes:

 

Azar al-Muhaqiq
Human (Variant) Sorcerer 6
Ability Mods Str -1 Int +1 Dex +2 Wis +1 Con +2 Cha +4 Sheet	Defenses HP 44/44 AC 15 P.Perc 11 Init +2 Speed 30 Prof +3 Senses Darkvision to 60 feet while wearing Goggles of NightNormal	Key Skills Deception +7 Insight +4 Intimidation +7 Investigation +4 Stealth +5 - - Sorcery Points 6/6	Spell Slots 1st-level 4/4 2nd-level 3/3 3rd-level 3/3 4th-level 0/0	Abilities Liaison to network of spies. Can get messages to and from the Mharoti Empire.Contact Spells you cast ignore fire resistance. In addition, when you roll damage for a spell you cast that deals damage of that type, you can treat any 1 on a damage die as a 2.Elemental Adept (Fire) You are well-versed in surviving in hostile environments, even thriving where others are sure to perish. You gain the following benefits. • Increase your Constitution or Wisdom score by 1, to a maximum of 20. • You require only half the food and water normally required for a creature of your size. • You can withstand extreme temperatures indefinitely and automatically succeed on saving throws against extreme heat and cold for a number of days equal to your Constitution or Wisdom modifier, whichever is lower. After this time, you must make saving throws as normal, until you spend 24 hours in a comfortable temperature.Survivor You have a number of Sorcery Points equal to your Sorcerer Level which recharge when you finish a long rest. You can use a bonus action to regain spell slots equal to the number of Sorcery Points spent. You can also use a bonus action to spend spell slots to regain Sorcery Points as follows (Slot/Points); 1/2, 2/3. 3/5. 4/6, 5/7.Font of Magic When you cast a spell, you can spend 1 sorcery point to cast it without any somatic or verbal components.Subtle Spell When you cast a spell that targets only one creature and doesn’t have a range of self, you can spend a number of sorcery points equal to the spell’s level to target a second creature in range with the same spell (1 sorcery point if the spell is a cantrip).Twinned Spell As magic flows through your body, it causes physical traits of your dragon ancestors to emerge. At 1st level, your hit point maximum increases by 1 and increases by 1 again whenever you gain a level in this class. Additionally, parts of your skin are covered by a thin sheen of dragon-like scales. When you aren’t wearing armor, your AC equals 13 + your Dexterity modifier.Draconic Resilience Starting at 6th level, when you Cast a Spell that deals Fire damage, you can add your Charisma modifier to one damage roll of that spell. At the same time, you can spend 1 sorcery point to gain Resistance to that damage type for 1 hour.Elemental Affinity	Equipment Fire Crystal (Arcane Focus) Common Clothes Dagger x2 Thieves' Tools Goggles of Night Medallion of Thoughts (3/3 charges) Hat of Disguise Backpack -Bedroll -Mess kit -Tinderbox -Torch (10) -Rations (10 days) -Waterskin -Crowbar -Hempen Rope -Forgery Kit -The Many Robust Pages of Baroness Bressallia Belt pouch with 20 platinum and 13.5 gold Equipment Languages Common Draconic Ignan Languages Tool Proficiencies Thieves' Tools Forgery Tools Cooking Utensils Tools

Spells Known
Cantrips	1st	2nd	3rd	4th	5th	6th	7th	8th	9th
Cont Flames	Disq Gaze	Scorcher	Fireball	-	-	-	-	-	-
Fire Bolt	Chrom Orb	Enl/Red	Haste	-	-	-	-	-	-
Message	Shield	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-
Presti	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-
P of Smoke	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-

[Vislands]

Batoyangi laughed at the dragon-blooded sorceress sudden declaration, a horrifying sound halfway between shrill squeals and a deep whooping growl. He pointed Adarga out onto the dark sea, towards the ruined land and the entrance that awaited them there. They would have to wade through the shambling undead and hopefully many, many Mharoti soldiers. A wicked grin spread across the gnoll's face and strands of thick salivation gathered about his jaws. He could hardly wait. He spent enough nights stalking the sandy streets of Sarkland, doling out brutalization at the instruction of his so-called 'Master', acting as another finger of power for the Edjet, spreading his influence and advancing his agenda. It was time that he did that for himself. "To...shore?" This he said to the captain and Vrakiras and it was clear from the ex-pit fighter's posture, pointed out towards the distant coast that he was asking how they would make that move, from here on the Sighing Lady to there, undetected. Once they got there he knew what to do, but the sea was not his domain.

OOC   Actions Move: Action: Bonus Action: Reaction: Interaction: Contingencies: Notes/Rolls: Batoyangi Level 6 Civilized Gnoll Beast Barbarian [5] / Rogue [1] HP: 63/63 | AC: 18 | Speed: 40 ft. | PP: 16/Scent21 | Senses: Darkvision (60 Ft.) | HD: 5/5 d12+3 & 1/1 d8+3 Status: Feats: You use shields not just for protection but also for offense. You gain the following benefits while you are wielding a shield: If you take the Attack action on your turn, you can use a bonus action to try to shove a creature within 5 feet of you with your shield. If you aren't incapacitated, you can add your shield's AC bonus to any Dexterity saving throw you make against a spell or other harmful effect that targets only you. If you are subjected to an effect that allows you to make a Dexterity saving throw to take only half damage, you can use your reaction to take no damage if you succeed on the saving throw, interposing your shield between yourself and the source of the effect. Shield Master, You have achieved a penetrating precision in combat, granting you the following benefits: Increase your Strength by 1, to a maximum of 20. Once per turn, when you hit a creature with an attack that deals piercing damage, you can reroll one of the attack’s damage dice, and you must use the new roll. When you score a critical hit that deals piercing damage to a creature, you can roll one additional damage die when determining the extra piercing damage the target takes. Piercer, You have advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on smell.Scent, Although gnolls are cowardly at heart, they like to disguise their fears by abusing others. You have disadvantage on saving throws against being frightened. On the other hand, whenever you make a Charisma (Intimidation) check for dealing with obviously smaller or weaker targets, you are considered proficient in the Intimidation skill and add double your proficiency bonus to the check, instead of your normal proficiency bonus.Bully, When you take the Disengage action, your base walking speed is increased by 10 feet.Live to Fight Another Day, Whenever you make a Charisma (Persuasion) check for dealing with obviously bigger or more powerful targets, you are considered proficient in the Persuasion skill and add double your proficiency bonus to the check, instead of your normal proficiency bonus.Obsequious Skills: Acrobatics (+5), Animal Handling (+3), Athletics (+10), Perception (+6), Sleight of Hand (+5), Stealth (+5) Tools: Thieves Tools (+5) Languages: Broken Common, Draconic, Gnollish, Thieves' Cant Combat Equipment: Javelin (+7 <> 1d6+4), Adarga Magic Items: -attuned- While you wear these boots, your walking speed becomes 30 feet, unless your walking speed is higher, and your speed isn't reduced if you are encumbered or wearing Heavy Armor. In addition, you can jump three times the normal distance, though you can't jump farther than your remaining Movement would allow. [B]Current Jump Distances (with/without) 10 ft. running start: Long Jump - 54/27 ft. High Jump - 21/10.5 ft. ...you cannot jump over any obstacles that are taller than 13.5 feet.Footwraps of Striding and Springing Abilities Str Dex Con Int Wis Cha Score: 18 14 16 8 10 8 Modifier: +4 +2 +3 -1 0 -1 Saves: +7 +2 +6 -1 0 -1 Abilities: In battle, you fight with primal ferocity. On your turn, you can enter a rage as a bonus action. While raging, you gain the following benefits if you aren’t wearing heavy armor: You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws. When you make a melee weapon attack using Strength, you gain a bonus to the damage roll that increases as you gain levels as a barbarian, as shown in the Rage Damage column of the Barbarian table. You have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. If you are able to cast spells, you can’t cast them or concentrate on them while raging. Your rage lasts for 1 minute. It ends early if you are knocked unconscious or if your turn ends and you haven’t attacked a hostile creature since your last turn or taken damage since then. You can also end your rage on your turn as a bonus action. Once you have raged the number of times shown for your barbarian level in the Rages column of the Barbarian table, you must finish a long rest before you can rage again.Rage [ ] [ ] [ ] | While you are not wearing any armor, your Armor Class equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier + your Constitution modifier. You can use a shield and still gain this benefit.Unarmored Defense | Starting at 2nd level, you can throw aside all concern for defense to attack with fierce desperation. When you make your first attack on your turn, you can decide to attack recklessly. Doing so gives you advantage on melee weapon attack rolls using Strength during this turn, but attack rolls against you have advantage until your next turn.Reckless Attack | When you reach 3rd level (Perception) and again at 10th level, you gain proficiency in one skill of your choice from the list of skills available to barbarians at 1st level.Primal Knowledge | When you enter your rage, you can transform, revealing the bestial power within you. Until the rage ends, you manifest a natural weapon. It counts as a simple melee weapon for you, and you add your Strength modifier to the attack and damage rolls when you attack with it, as normal. You choose the weapon’s form each time you rage: Bite. Your mouth transforms into a bestial muzzle or great mandibles (your choice). It deals 1d8 piercing damage on a hit. Once on each of your turns when you damage a creature with this bite, you regain a number of hit points equal to your proficiency bonus, provided you have less than half your hit points when you hit. Claws. Each of your hands transforms into a claw, which you can use as a weapon if it’s empty. It deals 1d6 slashing damage on a hit. Once on each of your turns when you attack with a claw using the Attack action, you can make one additional claw attack as part of the same action. Tail. You grow a lashing, spiny tail, which deals 1d8 piercing damage on a hit and has the reach property. If a creature you can see within 10 feet of you hits you with an attack roll, you can use your reaction to swipe your tail and roll a d8, applying a bonus to your AC equal to the number rolled, potentially causing the attack to miss you.Form of the Beast | Beginning at 1st level, you know how to strike subtly and exploit a foe’s distraction. Once per turn, you can deal an extra 1d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon. You don’t need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn’t incapacitated, and you don’t have disadvantage on the attack roll. The amount of the extra damage increases as you gain levels in this class, as shown in the Sneak Attack column of the Rogue table.Sneak Attack | At 1st level, choose two of your skill proficiencies, or one of your skill proficiencies and your proficiency with thieves’ tools (Athletics, Perception). Your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses either of the chosen proficiencies. At 6th level, you can choose two more of your proficiencies (in skills or with thieves’ tools) to gain this benefit.Expertise