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  #16  
Old Apr 27th, 2024, 01:06 PM
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Cefrey Brightwood, Dawngreeter of Lathander
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Cefrey Brightwood, Dawngreeter of Lathander
Cefrey frowned and glanced at the symbols on her arm when Fiadh mentioned the magic in the markings. "Hardly surprising," she mentioned thoughtfully as she scanned the heraldry of the purple dragon. "Perhaps it's a curse that could be removed?" With a sigh, she glanced at her companions and admitted, "Not by me, though. I'm not that-"

She was interrupted by the flash of light from Moorkammen's arm. "Oh, my," she murmured. "What was that?" The answer came all too swiftly, with Moorkammen exclaiming in pain before dropping like someone had struck him down. It was surreal and disturbing to see so strong a warrior crippled by agony, especially with no sign of physical damage. The source was all too obvious, of course, and all Cefrey could do was crouch beside Moorkammen with the others, whispering for Lathander to give the paladin strength.

It was over in a minute, but a minute lasts an eternity when a friend is suffering. Her first instinct was to provide healing and relief, but she hesitated. It seemed that the runes had activated when Moorkammen tried to cast a spell. What if Cefrey's healing made it worse? What if it rendered her prayer void and put her on the ground right next to him? Doubt and indecision gnawed at her, but Florian's angry growl brought her back to focus.

Ashamed of her hesitation, yet knowing the foolishness of acting hastily, she took a moment to see if Moorkammen was actually damaged, or if he'd merely been in pain, though 'merely' hardly seemed an appropriate word for what she'd witnessed. She blinked away a rim of tears from seeing her friend suffering so as she examined the runes as well. "Moorkammen," she asked in what she hoped was a steady voice, once he'd recovered, "are you injured? Do you want me to try healing you? Perhaps a minor spell to see what happens?"

OOCRolls:

Cefrey Brightwood

Movement:
Action:
Dice History:
d20+1 (9)+1 Total = 10

Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Condition:
Environmental Effects:
Concentration:

HP: 27/27 AC: 17 PP: 15

 

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Last edited by The Rat Queen; Jul 3rd, 2024 at 01:41 PM.
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  #17  
Old Apr 28th, 2024, 07:04 AM
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Vale
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Vale
The sudden flash of blinding light that came out of Moorkammen’s arm surprised Vale. But unlike her companions, she wasn’t bothered by it; the young woman was used to being trained to fight deprived of her sight, and relying on her other senses had become natural to her. What bothered her instead is being blind to the current situation she and her companions found themselves in. Lacking knowledge and understanding of where they were and what happened to them was starting to become utterly frustrating.

To help her focus on what needed to be done, Vale was about to tease the armoured warrior that he too was capable of extravagance. But the shouts of pain he let out made her realise the situation went from serious to extremely concerning. It was time for answers.

Seeing the companions gathering around Moorkammen, and Florian checking his surroundings for dangers, Vale decided to do what she was best at, or rather her second best role after prankster. “I will scout ahead,” she started addressing her companions, “and try to assess if we are in friendly territory or not. Thia, your kitty would be more than welcome to help me there.”

Vale then took a serious look as she stared at Moorkammen, curled on the floor, an alarming sight to anyone who knew the man and his pride to always stand tall. “Moorkie may not be the most social of us, and he is always quick to blame others whenever he tries to keep his conscience clean, but he is our grumpy old man. Whoever tries to threaten a member of our group has to answer to my fists!”

She turned away from her companions, and in the direction of the next set of stairs. “Whoever is in there is definitely aware that we are awake after such shoutings. Not that anyone is to blame for this, it was just an unfortunate consequence of us trying to get information. And don’t worry, Fiadh, I may not have your magical hands that can open any doors,” she said as she winked to her honorary big sister, “but mine are good at punching, especially punching the truth out of people. I really hope we are in a tavern because I’m getting quite thirsty for answers suddenly.”

Then Vale Stealth check: 11rushed to a darkened area of the stairs, out of light’s reach, before fading into the shadows. Darkness welcomes me, for I am the Queen of Shadows. She said in a very theatrical tone, as if rehearsing her part for a play.


 


 

Last edited by Mirasiah; Apr 28th, 2024 at 08:01 AM.
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Old Apr 28th, 2024, 08:57 AM
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Thia
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Thia & Kismet


Thia stifled a laugh at "Moorkammen's Mysteriously Marked Mob?" and gave Florian a mischievous wink as Moorkammen's back was turned. Then the elven woman moved to window, in time to see the carriage pass. For a moment Thia stood, wracking both braincells as she attempted to recall why that might be familiar.

At which point Moorkammen's arm erupted into blue light. Thia took an instinctive step back, her heeled boots almost tripping over Kismet (thank the gods for elven dexterity) and as she squinted trying to regain her own bearings she saw how badly affected her friend was. "By Tymora, someone wants to keep us in the dark!"

With no medical knowledge of her own there wasn't much Thia could do other than lay a comforting hand on the paladin's shoulder. Sure he was an awful stick in the mud but he was their stick in the mud. She was so distracted that she at first did not register Vale was going scouting.

"Good thinking Vale and absolutely take Kismet with you. If it is a tavern see if they have milk for him and wine for me"

She glanced over at the cat-familiar who was observing proceedings with regal feline disdain and nodded for him to follow Vale. Kismet stretched languidly and padded silently after the human.


OOC:Rolls:
Dice History:
1d20+3 (3)+3 Total = 6


Thia

Movement:
Action:
Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Condition:
Environmental Effects:
Concentration:

HP: 24/24 AC: 14 PP: 11

Fey FamiliarKismet the Cat

 


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  #19  
Old Apr 29th, 2024, 05:20 AM
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Moorkammen of the Dessarin Valley
Hands. Hands were all over him giving cause to squirm and grit his teeth as they tried to pull him into the black void beneath, yet he struggled still, the strong defiance to allow the darkness to consume him.

"No..." he whispered, his voice shuddering as the clawed hands scrabbled at him harder and with more vigor, then the more he pulled away, refusing to succumb.

Join us. Join us! hissed a terrible voice from the shadow, truly wicked and impure with its' lure. It had no form, yet it could be heard all around, and Moorkammen had nowhere to turn. Then he remembered.

In the darkest of nights, the deepest of shadows, when all brightness has gone. Chaunteas' light will forever shine.

Slowly and painfully, Moorkammen pressed his hands down hard, forcing himself onto his knees.

"No." he said again, less weakly this time.

He managed to slide one foot under his body and push with great effort, until he was kneeling before the great well of blackness before him.

Join us! the voice sang again. With a final effort, Moorkammen dragged his other foot under his body.

"I said NO!" he bellowed and hoisted himself to his feet until he stood, peering into the pit of nothingness.

FOOL! Fool...you fool... the voice faded away.

The dark shroud suddenly dissipated and Moorkammen was surprised to find he was not standing, but instead lying in a prone position, sweating and unusually dishevelled. His companions had surrounded him, looking down, some holding him reassuringly. It was then he realised he was in a vulnerable state. They could not see him like this, he simply would not allow it. His face began to glow red, perhaps through the effort of subduing the pain, or perhaps it was embarrassment.

"Get off me!" he shouted, abruptly rising to his feet, dusting down the despicable specks of dirt that had soiled his beautiful white cloak. He looked at each of his companions, the concerned expressions on their faces and huffed.

"Come. We have much to do." he said and promptly exited the doorway.

 
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Last edited by Drifter One; Apr 30th, 2024 at 04:26 AM.
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Old Apr 29th, 2024, 01:34 PM
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The Second FloorThe carriage that went past the window was easily identified as a carriage belonging to the Purple Dragon of Cormyr. The reputation of the famous military of Cormyr preceded them. Considered one of the strongest armies in the realm, the Dragons of Cormyr were well known for both their heroism and acts of valour in combat. They served the King of Cormyr, Azoun IV himself with distinction.

As Moorkammen writhes on the floor, Fiadh attempts to restrain him to keep him from hurting himself or biting down on his tongue. The dancing marks emblazoned on his arm seem to get more and more agitated as the lights intensify and grow ever brighter, ever stronger.

As Florian tries to implore Cefrey to aid the fallen paladin or dull his pain in any way she could, his eyes scan the surroundings in an attempt to pick out any other dangers or anything obvious that posed a threat to the group, however he was unable to pick out anything that looked as such through the impossibly bright azure lights that emanated from Moorkammen's arm.

Then, just like that, as Cefrey inquires for anything that could possibly aid Moorkammen, or at least reduce his pain, everything goes back to normal as the burning azure lights fade and the markings on his arm go back to being nothing but normal, seemingly benign tattoos.

As all this unfurls like the pages of a particularly bizarre tapestries, Vale uses her own abilities to become one with the shadows that surround her. Going through the door as quietly as she can manage, the young monk makes her way down the stairs to the second floor. Behind her, perhaps unnoticed, or perhaps not, Thia's familiar Kismet follows on padded feet that do not make a sound at her passing.

Neither of them have to go far before they reach the floor below. Wooden floorboards do not make a sound at Vale's movement, and the landing opens up to see a white-washed wall in front of her. A solid oak door is closed in front of Vale as the wall ends in a corner, going beyond to show a corridor with two more oaken doors, one further along to her right and the other ending in a wall at the far side. The stairway also continues round, heading down another flight.

The sound of laughter and merriment could be heard from below from Vale's vantage point. Whatever was going on downstairs, it was loud.

 

Last edited by Arkanis; May 7th, 2024 at 06:37 AM.
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Old Apr 30th, 2024, 05:12 AM
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The Bard
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Florian winced and squinted as he tried to spy the area ahead of him, but the blinding blue light from Moorkammen's arm - even being behind the Bard - was too disruptive to the effort; so it was with a sigh of thanks to himself that saw the brilliantly horrifying display end, which allowed Florian to blink and begin to adjust to the normal light again.

"Well, that was excitingly worrisome," the Bard said with a tight-lipped smile, as he watched Vale disappear into shadows ahead. He appreciated the flair to which she did, too. "And unless I'm wrong, that crest was the Purple Dragon insignia of Cormyr?"

Florian glanced to Celfrey, who had done everything possible without further risk.

"You mentioned Gond? Well, given our proximity to Cormyr, perhaps we find ourselves in Tilverton or Urmlaspyr..."

It was as good a guess as any, really. Though Florian suspected the group would find out soon, as the commotion - and Vale's forward ferreting about - likely alerted someone as to the group's waking. There was also the return of Moorkammen to his senses, which elicited a stern shout and seemingly even thumpier thumping of heavy boots in his wake; but, at least the man was recovered.

"Lovely," Florian muttered in a flat tone, as he watched Moorkammen's reaction and stomping away. "And here I was afraid almost dying might have changed him. Onward then!"

With a flourish of cloak and hand crossbow holstering, Florian gingerly slipped past the bulkier warrior, and proceeded to move down the angled hallway. He noted the doors and figured Thia and Vale would handle peering inside, should it be required, before the Bard rounded another corner and started toward the distant stairs down.

"It sounds inviting enough," Florian added, as he motioned downward, and the sounds of laughter and merriment. He descended, inhaling as his arms widened outward and a large grin cross his face, to which he called over the noise:

"Well met, fellows! What a night - what a morning! To whom do we thank for helping us find a safe crook last eve? My name is Florian Yearwood and I owe whomst a drink - and maybe a song!"

Take the focus, take the stage, and let those skulking have an opportunity to surprise if things turn bad...
Actions & Stat BlockMovement:
Action: Claim the spotlight for our sneakies to benefit
Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Free Action:
Conditions:
Rolls:

 
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Last edited by Rockerboy; Apr 30th, 2024 at 05:14 AM.
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  #22  
Old Apr 30th, 2024, 07:38 AM
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Vale
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Vale
Walking into the shadows, Vale felt a sense of comfort. Hidden from prying eyes, carefully observing where to take the next step as to make as little noise as possible, sneaking undetected was an art in the monk’s mind. In performing what she had trained for during countless hours, Vale was an artist in her own right, or at least she considered herself so. Even the anticipation of surprising bad guys red-handed could not alleviate the extreme focus she was applying to her task.

For all the familiarity and warmth Vale felt in lurking in the darkness, there was still an element of it she didn’t like. Very few knew how good she was at her art. Seeing Kismet at her side brought a smile to her face. At least, some of her current companions would understand the difference between great and excellent when it came to becoming one with the shadows. Still, whenever she performed her duty admirably, she felt a loneliness mixed in with her pride. Praise was not given to what could not be seen.

Vale’s thoughts were interrupted as she reached the next floor. And before her, a door. Her new kind of nemesis. She had been wronged by one after waking up, and she would not let another get the best of her on the same day. She considered punching it to show her arch-enemy she was made of something stronger than mere wood. But, destroying that door, for all the good it would make her feel, would also annihilate the beautiful performance of stealth she was putting on, shattering her own pride in the process. Never once did Vale check if the door was locked or not, too obsessed she was with her prior failure, and how Fiadh had to make use of magic hands to open the door of their first room. She had taken the barbarian at face value, still persuaded that the ffolk woman performed a magical act, one unavailable to normal humans.

Before she could decide what to do to her foe, Vale was made aware of voices below her, and laughter. Then, Florian jumped in front of her and took the sound of joy as an invitation to perform his own art. If Vale herself was at home in the shadows, her bard friend was the opposite, revelling in the light, the brighter the better. Without thinking, she stepped out of the darkness, and joined him as he followed the stairs down. In an instant, she forgot all about the carefulness she took to stay hidden in the dark, and how proud she was at doing it so well. She simply could not resist her friend’s charisma, and all she wanted was to show him that his many musical lessons were not done in vain.

“Great idea Florian! Take out your lute, it’s time to perform what we rehearsed.” She said, looking at him with a sly smile, a sign she was ready to outperform him.

Giving the bard a few seconds to ready his instrument, she moved past him and started to sing as she walked down the stairs, with the extreme excitement typical of a teenage girl being felt in her voice and the way she moved.
“I’m the Queen of the Scene.
To my dramatic flair,
All you can do is glare.
I swear I'll make you grin.”


 


 
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  #23  
Old Apr 30th, 2024, 10:52 AM
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Cefrey Brightwood, Dawngreeter of Lathander
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Cefrey Brightwood, Dawngreeter of Lathander
Cefrey raised her hands and scooted back as Moorkammen angrily rebuked the aid she and the others were attempting to provide. She was not hurt or insulted by his words or shouting; the knight's pride was hurt, and that was a wound that stung the man worse than any arrow, blade, or magical symbol ever could. Cefrey surmised that Moorkammen would suffer another thousand blasts from the markings rather than have the rest of them see him helpless. Just let him cool off, she decided. Talk to him later, and reassure him.

While she was occupied with Moorkammen, Cefrey failed to notice Vale slip off, though it's likely she wouldn't have noticed even had she been looking directly at the sneaky monk. She nodded a bit absently to Florian when he asked about the temple and began theorizing on their current location. The bard was better-traveled than she was, and would likely have better knowledge, even if he wasn't as familiar with the temples. Still, considering the nature of the attack against them, physical proximity might mean very little to where they ended up.

She followed the others, glancing up at the Purple Dragon banner. She wasn't sure exactly where they were centered. She might've been taught that at one point, but she had always struggled with her studies as an initiate. Matters of faith, she understood. Matters of facts and memorization, not so much.

Just as the sound of music and merriment drifted up from downstairs, Florian brightened and began to hurry down. "Florian, wait!" she called. "Let's observe our hosts to get a sense of....aaand he's gone." With all the bardic flair the young minstrel could muster, which was substantial, Florian fairly burst onto the scene with a flourish and grand announcement.

"So much for hanging back and observing," Cefrey sighed. "At least Vale is sneaking around separately, in case this turns bad."

"Great idea Florian! Take out your lute, it’s time to perform what we rehearsed." Vale appeared virtually out of nowhere right beside Florian and began a duet with the bard. Apparently, she had worked her way through monk school by moonlighting as a singer. "That doesn't even rhyme," muttered Cefrey at Vale's lyrics.

Cefrey stood a moment, staring at the singing pair, who had probably not even noticed who their audience was yet, and couldn't jolly well be bothered to care. After a brief facepalm, she sighed, "Lathander's will be done, then," and scanned the crowd to see how they were reacting to two unknown musicians suddenly appearing unbidden for a musical number.

OOCRolls:
Dice Insight:
d20+5 (5)+5 Total = 10


Cefrey Brightwood

Movement:
Action:
Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Condition:
Environmental Effects:
Concentration:

HP: 27/27 AC: 17 PP: 15

 

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Last edited by The Rat Queen; Jul 3rd, 2024 at 01:42 PM.
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Old Apr 30th, 2024, 12:49 PM
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Fiadh
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Fiadh of the Moonshae Isles
Fiadh nodded approvingly as Moorkammen stoically rose to his feet, almost pushing her away in the process. It was clear that the paladin was embarrassed by his moment of weakness, if indeed it could be seen as such. For the warrior of the Moonshae Isles, pain, in one form or another, was inevitable. It was how one dealt with it that proved their worth.

Vale had already climbed down the stairs, followed by Thia’s capricious feline friend, and Fiadh quickly followed. She could be silent and discreet when she wanted to, but didn’t see any reason for it right now. The care by which they and their equipment had been treated, the lack of restraints in any form, other than the metaphorically used, not literallyinfernal tattoos they had been marked with, and the sounds of merriment from downstairs suggested that they were guests, not prisoners, possibly at an inn.

Perception check 14The warrior focused on the cacophony, trying to untangle the knot of loud voices and unrestrained laughter, eager to interpret sound into words, languages and subjects of conversation, numbers of individuals and general mood. Doing so would have been easier - and much more meaningful - had Florian and Vale not joined the celebration themselves. Fiadh glared at the door in front of her, the same door that had dominated Vale’s attention for the great span of a few seconds before she finally decided that it was an unworthy opponent and went on to stage her own impromptu performance.

The warrior’s eyes met those of Cefrey and in them Fiadh saw the reflection of her own thoughts. She couldn’t leave Florian and Vale alone facing who knew what. At the same time, and even though she didn’t think this was a trap, moving forward without checking what was at their backs was a tactical mistake. Thankfully, the one person who was perfect for such reconnaissance had not rushed forward to prove how great a singer she was.

"Would you mind checking the rooms, Thia?", Fiadh asked the elf, who was looking at her pet fondly, though Kismet appeared to pointedly ignore everyone around her including her mistress. "I’d hate for us to be ambushed again. Call me paranoid, but…" She shrugged. She didn’t want to wake up with a magical tattoo on her other arm as well.

"And Thia-" The warrior gently placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder and she lowered her voice as if wanting to share a secret with her companion. "These rooms probably belong to the one who brought us here and took care of our wounds. Whoever that is, they don’t deserve to discover that their favorite ring is mysteriously missing. Should the people of this place prove to be our enemies, I will let you pick the shiniest and prettiest baubles in their possession once I deal with them, but if they are friends…" She meaningfully raised an eyebrow. She didn’t have to spell it out for Thia to understand where she was getting at. Thankfully, she knew that the elf wouldn’t ‘take’ from a friend, or at least she hoped that she wouldn’t.

"Right", she said and sighed deeply. "Let’s see what trouble we have gotten ourselves into this time. Will you join me, Kismet?" The warrior knelt, beckoning the cat to climb onto her arm so that she could carry her. "I promise to get you the most delicious treat available here." She had learnt that orders would never work with Kismet, but the cat was partial to bribes, especially edible ones. Fiadh reasoned that if things went really wrong, the feline could be counted upon to notify her mistress. At her own convenience of course, but still.

Without another word, the warrior climbed down the stairs, following Cefrey and hoping for the best.



 
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Last edited by Elanir; May 3rd, 2024 at 04:42 AM.
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Old May 1st, 2024, 05:41 AM
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Moorkammen of the Dessarin Valley
As the embarrassed burn on his cheeks subsided, Moorkammen began to follow his companions down the stairs and begin to find out what, in Chaunteas name, was going on. The audible merriment from beyond the stairwell echoed throughout the hallways and gave pause for the Paladin to wonder for a moment, As he stood on the stair, he could see several doors to other rooms, nothing spectacular about them, and much like the thousands of doors he had seen before. Were they in some sort of Tavern?

"Florian. Thia. Vale," he began, about to ask them to survey the areas beyond. Alas, Vale and Florian had already skipped down the stairs towards the racket like little puppies rushing for a biscuit.

"Nevermind..." he sighed and followed them down.

"At least they will provide a distraction whilst we find out where we really are." He said to no-one in particular.

Sliding into the room where Florian and Vale had attracted all eyes, Moorkammen slowly, and as quietly as his chinking armour would allow, shuffled to the back of the room behind the gathering. His keen eyes surveyed the crowd, Perception check 4looking for an individual who would be responsible for such debauchery. Yet, he could not single out anyone in particular.

 
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Last edited by Drifter One; May 2nd, 2024 at 04:41 AM.
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Old May 1st, 2024, 09:14 PM
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Thia
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Thia & Kismet


Thia looked a mite annoyed at not being invited to the party and had to resist rolling her larger than average eyes at Fiadh's warning. Those eyes remained unrolled however partly because the Moonshae maiden spoke simple sense and partly because it was never a wise idea to talk back to someone a foot or more taller than you. Thia was on the tall side for an Elf and wore heels on her boots but Fiadh loomed.

"I promise I shall pluck no purses and burglar no bracelets no matter how inviting they seem," Thia side. "Enjoy downstairs - and no matter how much Kismet begs don't give him an ale or mead. It goes straight to his head which means I get magically induced hangovers."

With her friends departing Thia commenced her snooping, creeping as quietly along the landing as she could and listening at the closed doors for any telltale sounds from the rooms within.


OOC:Rolls:
Dice Stealth:
1d20+7 (6)+7 Total = 13

Dice Perception:
1d20+1 (16)+1 Total = 17


Thia

Movement:
Action: Stealth
Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Condition:
Environmental Effects:
Concentration:

HP: 24/24 AC: 14 PP: 11

Fey FamiliarKismet the Cat

 


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Old May 2nd, 2024, 02:02 PM
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The Ground FloorThe stairs heading down open up straight into a common room that at first glance appeared to be lit by small flying butterflies hanging suspended from the ceiling inside a cylindrical glass shape.

The smell of scent of tabacco lay lightly scented in the air, providing a heady smell as it mixed with the copious amounts of ale being drank by the inhabitants who sat there, drinking out of large carved mugs while taking the occasional draught of pipeweed.

At the bar, three stools sat in front of the counter where a smaller, brown-haired gnomish gentleman wearing spectacles is polishing empty glasses before placing them in a row one next to the other at the top of the bar. What was immediately notable is that each of the glasses was spaced and positioned equally from each of the others. The gnome was wearing a bright red shirt. As Florian and Vale enter the room, he looks up and nods courteously before returning his attention to the polishing.

Immediately occupying the three stools next to the bar were what appeared to be two young men dressed in somewhat fancy clothing. Standing next to them is a third, a young man with blond hair and pale blue eyes is regaling the others with a story. His voice is loud, and he doesn't miss a beat even from the two newcomers and their own theatrics and singing. His cheeks are flushed red, possibly from the large amounts of ale the man has clearly been drinking given the collection of empty mugs situated on the teakwood surface of the bar next to him. The young man is wearing ill-fitting leather armour that looks quite tattered and worn. A scabbard attached to the belt on his waist contains a sword that has a peace bond tied at the hilt. It is obvious that most of the talking and merriment heard from upstairs is coming from this corner of the room.

An older man sits on his own on one of the two circular tables positioned inside the fairly small room. Wisps of silver hair fall down to his shoulders and his right eye is covered with an eyepatch. Although fairly hunched and slumped over a half-full mug of ale that he appears to be nursing as he gently swills the mug up and down in his hand, he suddenly perks to attention at Florian's declaration of a drink and a song. He turns his one good eye over to look at the bard before he picks up his mug of ale and bangs it on a table.

"I don't know about the song laddie," the man shouts out, "I think the lass here has ye covered on that score but I'd be mightily appreciative of a drink if ye be buyin for us."

And sitting upwards from the old man on the other table situated near to a door was a young woman. Her purple tinged red hair falls forwards, obscuring most of her features, though beneath the purple-red filaments eyes of witchwood hazel seem to stare out at most of the other inhabitants in the room. There is a glass sat next to her left hand that has been barely touched.

Behind them the others come, warriors and priestesses and cats all, surveying the room to see if there is any immediate hostility to their arrival, which there is not. Indeed, the looks being shot towards the slightly eclectic singing duo from the patrons inside do not contain any hint of anger or hostility and indeed, in the case of the three young men at the bar, they didn't even seem to notice anything at all so caught up were they in their own activities.

The gnome behind the bar though does call out.

"Good to see you back in the world of the living. For a moment there I didn't think you were going to wake up at all."

Glancing over to Vale, he adds, "That's a very fine singing voice you have there lass. Have you ever thought about making a career out of it?"

***

Thia stays behind. As the others go downstairs she stays behind on the landing. She goes from one door to the next, placing a careful ear up against the surface of the door to see if she could hear anything behind. There were three doors in total, each of them from the same solid-looking oak.

There were no sounds from any of the rooms beyond, and she could hear no movement nor could see anything out of place. The question was whether the enterprising rogue was going to see whether or not she could open any of the doors to see what lay beyond, or whether she would join the rest of the group in the common room downstairs?

Last edited by Arkanis; May 7th, 2024 at 06:38 AM.
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  #28  
Old May 3rd, 2024, 04:09 AM
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Rockerboy Rockerboy is offline
very preem, choom
 
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The Bard
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And out of nowhere, Vale stepped out and cued the song--

Wha?!

--to which Florian maintained his grin, for the patrons of the establishment, but shot a glance at his companion with momentarily widening eyes. He hissed under his breath, as he continued to walk down the steps, even as the Bard's lute was unslung and held in his hands.

"What are you doing?"

But, the show had to go on. Vale broke into verse.

"Aaaand here we go~!"

To which the Bard started playing an upbeat jig on his instrument, resisting the wince that wanted to take over his expression, and instead tried to step into the unexpected performance with gusto and passion - while also trying to weave in Vale's campside song, which had been rehearsed at least once.

♫ There was a fine girl with the sharpest wit,
She used it fiercely with a laugh and a flit,
And no matter how tough you think you be,
Her jolly ol' quips make you want to flee,
Least 'til others did decree:

So giddy was she,
So giddy was she,
All you could do was fall to a knee,
So giddy was she,
So giddy was she,
Others joined in and sung with glee!

The Queen of slight, she danced with delight,
Though her words would often cause ya fright,
Those with the truth were lucky to know,
All she wanted to do, was put on a show,
'Caaaaaause...

So giddy was she,
So giddy was she,
The Queen of the scene, oh gee,
So giddy was she,
So giddy was she,
You'll swear the ale was free!

And on the wind the Queen doth fly,
Even as her swirling form draws the eye,
Away, away, her form did recede,
Leaving others to proclaim giddy was she, indeed! ♫


And even as Florian began to wind the song down, still all smiles, he noted that the place seemed calm and welcoming, at least. There were no immediate attempts on their lives, anyway, though a shout from the corner drew the Bard's attention - as the older man across the way mentioned the drink.

"Ah, a drink for the one who helped us, indeed," Florian called back as he flipped his lute over his shoulder, where the sling caught it against his back in a smooth motion. "Would that be yourself, good sir? Or perhaps the good bartender could point us in the right direction as to our mysterious rescuers?"

It seemed important for the group to speak with whomever had brought them to wherever they were. Speaking of...

"Oh, and just to sate curiosity - and a bet I had - in which town do we find ourselves?"
Actions & Stat BlockMovement:
Action: Play a song on the fly - hoping for the best!
Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Free Action:
Conditions:
Rolls:
Dice Performance:
1d20+5 (16)+5 Total = 21


 
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Last edited by Rockerboy; May 3rd, 2024 at 11:12 AM.
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  #29  
Old May 5th, 2024, 06:49 AM
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Mirasiah Mirasiah is offline
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Vale
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Vale
As Vale expected from her companion, Florian’s lute played the perfect accompanying notes to her singing. She was extremely glad he rose to the occasion so deftly. And after her own verses, when the man took his turn with his own lyrics, she clapped in rhythm to encourage him.

The young monk thought he was doing even better than during their rehearsal. It was obvious he was a man of show, one that gave the best when the lights were on him. And it was contagious. Unable to contain her excitement any longer, Vale quickly slid down the handrail and started dancing to Florian’s jig in the middle of the tavern.

Going from table to table as she danced around, Vale stopped only to motivate the patrons to cheer for Florian’s performance. A “Come on, isn’t he great?” to one, a “I’d bet you’ve never seen anyone as good as he” to another, she wouldn’t even consider she might be bothering these people. How could she when she was witnessing such a fine performance, from someone she knew was enjoying every moment of it.

At the end of Florian’s song, Vale cheered one last time for her friend, applauding him for a full minute, with a large grin on her face. She then approached the gnome barkeep.

"That's a very fine singing voice you have there lass. Have you ever thought about making a career out of it?"

Her large grin still in full display, she answered the gnome. “Ha! I’m only doing it for fun. He’s” she said, pointing at Florian, “the real professional. Perhaps you should hire him. I’d certainly be willing to discuss terms of a potential contract.”

Taking a serious expression, and turning her grin into a playful smile, she decided to inquire about a more pressing matter. “I was ready to punch my way to the truth, but I feel asking will be enough. On top of my friend’s questions, I would also be interested to know how much time has passed since we were brought here.”


 


 
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Old May 5th, 2024, 12:15 PM
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The Rat Queen The Rat Queen is offline
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Cefrey Brightwood, Dawngreeter of Lathander
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Cefrey Brightwood, Dawngreeter of Lathander
Cefrey looked around for space suitable for the group and moved to occupy it while the pair performed their song for the crowd.

She had hoped that someone would reveal a bit more without questions being immediately necessary. Hopefully, it wasn't a regular occurrence to have half a dozen people dragged in at death's door in these parts. She also doubted the gnome was the one who brought them in. While it was possible he could have a group with him to carry them and their gear, the question of why he would leave his livelihood to do so remained.

"Of course, we would also like to extend our heartfelt gratitude, both for the rescue and for being allowed to stay here and recover," she added with a smile. It was true, but she also didn't want to sound ungrateful or pushy by only asking questions. "I feel we should compensate you for the stay."

OOCRolls:

Cefrey Brightwood

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HP: 27/27 AC: 17 PP: 15

 

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Last edited by The Rat Queen; Jul 3rd, 2024 at 01:42 PM.
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