[D&D-5e] What Lies Beneath

[ElCosoLoco]

I could be interested, I've always wanted to play this campaign.

Lynnwen Name: Lynnwen Songwater Class: Sorcerer (Divine Soul) Race: Elf (Drow) Alignment: Neutral Good Background: Acolyte Brief Description of character personality: Lynnwen has a gentle and kind personality, with a playful side. She is usually quiet, but when she speaks she is very passionate. Growing up side by side with people of all races and walks of life means that Lynnwen is very casual around people of different heritages, cultures and ethnicities, more than would be expected of someone who never traveled far from home. Her meditative, friendly nature makes Lynnwen feel ill at ease with violence, and prone to overthinking and second guessing herself. Brief Backstory: Lynnwen was born in the temple of Songwater Grove, a holy place next to an entrance to the Underdark, dedicated since a long time ago to the worship of Eilistraee. At Songwater, the more militant members of the clergy often carry out raids against Underdark drows to disrupt their activities and liberate slaves. Many of the rescued people choose to settle down at the temple and help out so Songwater is populated by many different people. Lynnwen is the daughter of the head priestess, Yliss, and of her wife Qilvisa, the captain of the temple militia, who was born in the Underdark and fled because she couldn’t bear her people’s strict gender roles. The Eilistraite magic that enabled her conception is perhaps the reason behind Lynnwen’s sorcerous powers, which are clearly divine in nature. Because of them, she was brought up as a prospective next high priestess. As a surface-born drow, Lynnwen is only familiar with her culture because of her parents’ tales, but once she came of age, she realized she couldn’t really understand what the purpose of her faith was unless she experienced the harsh, unforgiving nature of the Underdark and its inhabitants, and she decided to join the latest raid. Unfortunately, her party was ambushed, most of her companions died in the fight and the others were captured alongside her, including a Kenku priest of Selûne named Cicada. Narrative Sample: “Are you sure about this, Lynnwen?” Her parents were staring at her with a grave and deep gaze. “I am, Mothers,” the young elf spoke, “I am old enough, and I feel I cannot truly help you in leading our people to the Goddess until I do this. Even the best of healers cannot treat an illness they do not understand.” That was not even a week ago. Walking along in the row of prisoners, gagged and tied hands and feet, Lynnwen felt extremely small and naive. She had been so passionate back then, so full of faith that her Goddess would protect her. After all, she had blessed her with magic. But the terrible truth was that none of that had been of any help. The moon didn’t shine in the World Below. “Move it, renegade. The Lady will want words with you.” the guard at her side snickered, prodding her with the blunt side of his spear. Goddess deliver me. Preferred pronouns: She/her Timing: I'd rather move the deadline 2-4 hours later, but I'm fine either way. Content: In general I'm ok with the site's limitations, I'd rather not see my character the target of sexual violence though.

[Jab Burrwalky]

Garibaldi Name: Garibaldi Race: Human (variant, +1 Int, +1 Wis, "Alert" feat) Class: Wizard Alignment: Chaotic Good Background: Sage Description: Bedraggled by slavery and torment, but normally scrawny and pale anyway. Slightly stooped or slouched posture. Shoulder length straight black hair, thin lips. He is not attractive, but not ugly either, just plain and a little unkempt. He has grey eyes and after the trauma of his capture, an often vacant look in them. He has a slight tremor in his left hand and rocks back and forth just slightly when standing or sitting still. Narrative Sample: Garibaldi looked up from his studies to see that the oil lamp's wick had burned nearly to the stub. He looked at the moon and stars and realized there was already a pink haze on the horizon. he was alone in the secluded hut just out of sigh of Triboar. His master had left to Waterdeep to secure more rare compenents and ingredients. With no one to tell him to sleep, he just kept studying all night long. "Well, you could sleep, or you could just start getting up for morning chores and sleep later," he said to himself. Out loud. "Eh, sleeping now would just make it harder to get up in an hour. Best just get an early start." He got up to go feed and milk the one goat and feed the five chickens his master kept. As apprentice, animal tending was his duty. He stood up, unsteady from the yet-unnoticed fatigue, and swayed for a moment. He regained his balance and headed for the door. He opened it and took a deep breath of the cool pre-dawn air. Summer mornings were the best for that. He stepped out into the pink light of the pre-dawn, and then blackness enveloped him. For a moment he thought he'd blacked out, but his over-tired mind was still aware enough to realize that he was fully conscious. He panicked thinking he'd gone blind. Then he heard voices. At first he thought it an hallucination, and panicked more. Then he realized he knew the language. It was elvish. But a harsh, coarse dialect he didn't fully comprehend. His panic turned to icy dread as he recognized what that must mean: Drow. "We're running out of time!" one voice said, a male voice. "Cowardly male! Silence. Do as your told and grab him. I'll net let my sister out-do me on yet another raid," a female voice commanded in harsh whisper. Before he could entirely comprehend that he was being kidnapped, his tired brain thrust the words of an oft-memorized spell into his head. As he was about to utter the words to summon magic missiles to smite his attackers, but just as he spoke the first syllable a body slammed him to the ground and two mail-clad fingers jammed into his mouth and gripped his tongue tight, chipping his teeth. He tried to push back but then he heard the words of another spell he knew. The elvish form of the "Sleep" spell. He became drowsy and his struggling ceased as his limbs and eyes, already tired, become hopelessly torpid. When next he awoke, he was underground, in the pitch black, naked to his underwear. He was gagged with a foul tasting cloth, and hands and feet painfully bound behind him. He felt other bodies next to him, shivering from the underground chill, as the cold bars of the caged wagon knocked into his head with every bump and rock in the path. This was the beginning of many months of torment, torture, and hard labor. It was lonely, being a slave. Even though he worked on a crew of other slaves, they were beaten if they tried to speak. Sometimes they were beaten anyway, just because the drow found it funny. He'd been assigned to a Matriarch's personal home. To cleaning up her frequently occupied "guest" room where she let her worst enemies stay "free of charge" as she personally tortured them. After some months of it, he began to despair. Until one day, someone spoke to him. "Hey Gary!" It said. Garibaldi raised an eyebrow at the dark, flat figure on the floor. "My name's not Gary," he replied. "Ehhh, yeah. I don't care. Now it is," his shadow insisted. "Whatever... um. Who're you?" Garibaldi asked. "I'm you! Or, the you you could be if you were better at being you, anyway!" That was a confusing non-answer. But Garibaldi didn't question it. "Well, okay, so how do I become you?" "Just by doing it, mostly. First step is to escape though." "Oh you don't say? And just how am I supposed to do that?" Garibaldi snapped. "Well... I could tell you, but then you wouldn't grooow from the experience, now would you? Nope. you gotta figure that out," his shadow said with a patronizing slowness... oddly reminiscent of Garibaldi's former master. And equally as infuriating. "Well, fine then. You're no help at all," he said, as he went back to scrubbing the red floors of the Matriarch's "guest" room for the thirteenth time that day. Meanwhile, his overseer, a strapping young drow lad wearing even less than the slaves were (just as the Matriarch liked it) stifled a chuckle as he watched Garibaldi twitching and mumbling and shrugging at nothing while wringing out the mop. "Another one gone mad. Always more entertaining that way," the drow said to himself. Your preferred pronouns: He/Him Posting Deadline: I can work with that. Taboo content: Pretty much good with the site rules. Sexual violence is pretty much my only real taboo.

[Yoshimi]

Name: Rusted Root (Rust for short)
Class: Barbarian
Race: Tabaxi, Custom Origin (+2 STR, +1 CON)
Alignment: Neutral
Background: Outlander

Narrative Sample: Rust shifted from one foot to the other and peered into the blackness of the Underdark. If any warm-bodied creatures came down the passage toward the gallery where her small companions labored, her heat-sensitive vision would detect them. But for now, the darkness was reassuringly complete. Still, she could never afford to let down her guard entirely, and she gripped the stone-crafted staff that the pech had fashioned for her even tighter. Rust had stumbled upon the mysterious little tribe almost three months after living on her own in the Underdark wilderness, having broken free of her drow masters when a Svirfneblin raid disrupted their party en route from Mantol-Derith to Menzoberranzan. Living meagerly off young rothe that she ambushed and slew with her bare hands, the tabaxi had sought hopelessly for a path to the surface world that she had heard stories of from her parents before she was taken from the slave warrens of her birth to travel among the great cities of the dark elves. The tragic account was still passed from parent to child among her race, of the terrifying half scorpion-half man slavers that had raided her ancestral home and taken her people far from the beloved open sky. It was that sky she quested for when, half-starved, she had stumbled into a wondrous chamber housing a deep pool surrounded by lush growths of mushrooms, beside which the gentle beings from the elemental plane of earth had set up a home. The pech ministered to her until she was strong again and allowed her to settle in their grotto, and over nearly half a year they taught her to both revere the natural world and to survive in it, although they could never quite grasp that her connection to stone was not as deep as theirs. Still, she experienced a sense of peace and belonging that she had never dreamed possible, in her spartan and violent existence fighting for the entertainment of the brutal drow.

The young fugitive's reverie was broken when she realized that the sounds of hammering behind her had grown silent. She turned with a sense of foreboding, just as a panicked voice cried, "The stone sends warning. Run, child." She whirled to see the four pech miners seeming to melt into the stone, but before she could react a terrifying but all-too-familiar darkness fell over her, defying even her enhanced vision. A cold voice muttered, "What have we here?" With no time to wonder how her watchfulness had been evaded, her rising terror instead transformed to desperate rage. She screamed and charged blindly toward the voice with her claws extended. Rust barely felt the tiny prick of the needle striking her shoulder, but her limbs instantly grew leaden and she stumbled in her mad rush, crashing in a heap just inches from the boot of the drow wizard. Soul-shaking despair competed with the sleep poison to render her limbs dull and useless. As unconsciousness fell, the last words she heard were, "I recall hearing that one of them got lost in a raid last year. It still looks strong. Bizarre creatures."

Preferred pronouns: Private
Timing: I can't usually post between 6 am and noon CST but I could post the night before.
Content: No worries within site restrictions

[Jasontheswift]

App Name: Venku Battle-Born Thugila Class: Fighter - Battle Master Race: Goliath Alignment: NG Background: Outlander - Tribal Nomad Personality Trait 1: I’m driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home. 2: I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and manners won’t save you from a hungry owlbear. Bond It is my duty to provide children to sustain my tribe. My family, clan, or tribe is the most important thing in my life, even when they are far from me. Ideal Glory. I must earn glory in battle, for myself and my clan. (Any) Flaw There’s no room for caution in a life lived to the fullest. Don’t expect me to save those who can’t save themselves. It is nature’s way that the strong thrive and the weak perish. (In line with the Goliath fair play mentality) Narrative Sample: The Disgraced Hunter Venku Battle-Born Thugila left the tribe for his morning forage and collection of firewood. Upon discovery of a pool of blood which led to a pig being suspended in the air Venku realised he had stumbled into a trap, likely for something larger than himself. He attempted to leave but tripped a snare that if not for his quick reflexes would've pulled him into the air alongside the swine. It was then the scream was heard, a great Yeti knocked Venku too the side and tried to take the pig. Finally the hunter came out of hiding, a half-elf hunter with a missing ear tried to kill the creature with a well placed shot. The strong frozen winds buffeted against Venku's face making his vision blurry. Out of desperation and the lack of bearing on his current location he ran into the fray. Shield on his left and spear thrust out from his right he struck the Yeti in the back, clear and bloody fluid rushed out as the Yeti in a last ditch effort threw a large branch at the hunter. Venku quickly lashed out again and struck the Yeti into the back of it's skull, already wounded and beaten the Yeti died at Venku's feet. The goliath shaken and hurt looked around for the hunter, only to find an abandoned backpack. Venku searched for tracks but oddly could find none despite this hunter running around on the snow. Without warning Venku was shot at, the arrow whizzed by his face as the wind began to lessen he heard. "You B*****d ! You stole my kill. " Again Venku was shot at but this time his shield managed to take the blow. Venku charged at the hunter and let out a thrust however he had failed to notice the tip of his spear was broken, thus the hunter was struck with the blunt shaft. It was enough to knock the hunter down and caused him to roll away. Venku without need of invitation tried to runaway, he seemed to get pretty far back home but the wind and snow made it difficult to see. However the last thing Venku remembered was a sudden pain in his back and his world went black. --------------------------------- Without any indication Venku's memories faded in and out. a wooden thing on wheels.....a wagon ? No...what wagon would get up this high Before long he noted a change, the cold was different. Not the billowing frosted winds but a wet isolation within darkness. Now he could see better and what he was greeted with confused and concerned him. Venku saw that he was placed in a wagon, chained from hand to feet. Only rags of his former clothing on him and a sight he wished to never see. Drow, a drow slaver and a servant following with crossbow at the ready. Venku still too weak fell back into darkness, the screams of human and non-human slaves as his lullaby. Pronouns: Private Timing: More than able to post daily, time shouldn't be a problem. I'll just post as soon as I see a DM post, unless it's combat then I'll try and post at my turn. Content: No hold's bar, I have no limits.

[SnakeOilCharmer]

@Yoshimi, as it turns out, the Leonin from Mystic Odyssey of Theros is almost exactly the thing you're describing - a catperson with strength and con raises (though they're +1 str +2 con) and darkvision. Still have cat's claws, but no climb speed, just the combat use. Get one skill from a bunch of hunting-based options rather than stealth and perception, and the ability to do a terrifying roar in place of feline agility.

IDK if both you and Exfilia are cool with that, but since there's published rules that are such a good fit, I thought I'd mention them.

[UGOTMERCd]

Application Name: Justice (CS Listed as Naja) Race: Tiefling Class: Warlock (Hexblade) Alignment: Lawful Neutral Background: Urban Bounty Hunter   Narrative Sample He sat hunched, back against the cold stone wall. The slight shuffle of movement met his ears. The smell of unwashed bodies filled his nostrils. Then, out of the darkness came a soft voice speaking the common tongue of the surface. "Who're you then? How'd they get you?" The young man glowered and thought back to just a few days before... Justice roused himself early from the uncomfortable inn bed and went about his ablutions quickly. He hated being dirty, but he hated wasting precious time too. He needed to look presentable, and not stink. Nothing more. He made his way downstairs, ate a quick cold breakfast and an ale from the bar, and paid his tab. That left him with 20gp from his last bounty. Justice couldn't believe the filthy cow thief had been worth 27gp. But obviously the bounty hunter didn't set the prices, just collected them. This time he wanted more of a challenge. He made his way to the citadel, and into the bounty office. He checked to general postings (nothing of note) before checking in. He'd get an assignment directly from the adjutant magistrate. Hopefully a good one. Some time later Justice was on his way out of town headed towards the salt mines on the coast. That's where his quarry was last know to be heading. A black market arms dealer. This was the challenge the Warlock was looking for. With the Raven Queen's blessing, he'd get the chance to kill this one instead of bringing back a whimpering mess. And with another blessing, the target would be just dead, not a bloody mass. He prayed to the Goddess of Death, but his dark heritage also beckoned. One day, the Raven Queen would free him of his infernal curse. But only after his proper service. Justice headed down into the salt mines, chasing his bounty. A dwarf they said. But a strange dwarf, one who always kept his hood up; who only went out at night; and had a strange pallor, almost grey skin. The bounty hunter followed the trail of his quarry with difficulty, being unused to the close cramped tunnels of the mines. He'd bought a special pack for this mission, but the tunnels were unusual to him. Eventually, he came to a strange door. It didn't seem to be part of the mine. It was old, older than any of the architecture of the city above. But the trail of the dwarven arms dealer led thus way, so he'd follow. He opened the door and walked into the strange cavern beyond. The enormous cavern was so dark, even with his darkvision there was nothing to see. And the silence was so oppressive. Stepping through the door was almost like walking into another plane of existence. He wondered for a moment if he'd actually travelled to one of the nine hells. But then he heard something. The twang of a crossbow. There was a sharp pain in his neck, then he knew no more. That is until he woke in a what seemed to be a caged wagon, chained to the wooden wagon bed almost completely naked. ...Thus began his nightmare. Preferred Pronouns: He/Him/His Timing: Acceptable as is. I should have no trouble with 1/day. Content: I'm fine with anything. I understand that the website has policy, so I understand there are guidelines. But I also understand the idea of narrative and I'm able to compartmentalize. That being said, I am sensitive and sympathetic to others needs. If the content of the game needs to be toned down or trigger warnings are necessary I willingly and easily adjust/comply.

[Yoshimi]

@Snakeoilcharmer Thanks I thought about that actually. I play another game where someone is a leonin. But I don't have the sourcebook and it wasn't listed in the allowable sources for the this game (I do have TCOE). I kind of like the idea of having climb speed and feline agility in the underdark environment, so I went with the Tasha's ability score tweak to try and optimize chances of survival. But another party member who is leonin seems like it would be great if it were allowed.

[SnakeOilCharmer]

Originally Posted by Yoshimi

@Snakeoilcharmer Thanks I thought about that actually. I play another game where someone is a leonin. But I don't have the sourcebook and it wasn't listed in the allowable sources for the this game (I do have TCOE). I kind of like the idea of having climb speed and feline agility in the underdark environment, so I went with the Tasha's ability score tweak to try and optimize chances of survival. But another party member who is leonin seems like it would be great if it were allowed.

Eh, if you'd prefer to continue in the manner *DM has explicitly permitted* then we probably don't need to ask the question, unless someone else actually asks.

[Jasontheswift]

My app is done, I'll be refining it but I'd really appreciate feedback.

[oakfed]

Name: Saav

Race: Elf (Drow)
Class: Warlock
Alignment: Neutral
Background: Urchin
Character Summary: Outcast renegade Great Old One warlock being driven by dreams of a library. (If someone else wants that alternate bond, we can rejig things a little)

 

Saav frowned at the liveried guards near the slave pens. If they even noticed the dirty skin and bones drow in the cell, they ignored him.

Not all drow belong to the powerful slaveholding clans. Some are clanless, and can only dream of position and influence. Such was the Vidari family. Saav tried to remember. His mother was - a weaver? He thought he remembered her at a loom. His father he never knew. Sisters and brothers he had had, too, hadn't he? One with violet eyes. But it had been most of a century, and now the dreams were making it hard to remember.

His family had disappeared. Been disappeared. The best he'd been able to discover from the few remaining residents was that there had been a sweep of his neighborhood by guards and mercenaries, looking for - who knew. Spies, criminals, squatters? They had been ... unrestrained. So he had grown up in the streets.

For the clanless, city life was not kind. Later he began to be wary of cities, and had moved into outlying tunnels and caverns, sometimes still returning on expedition when he had need of something hard to find elsewhere. He had been... not exactly a thief, and not exactly a hermit. Long had he lived that way, until ... It had been the mushrooms, perhaps. Something shifted in him, and he heard a voice. briefly it seemed to make his life easier. Then the dreams had begun, and grew stronger until they could not be denied. He had started searching for the library.

"Back off," he growled at a foul-smelling goblin that had his eye on the day's meager ration. It blinked, startled, not even looking at him, and he realized he had not used his tongue but his inner voice. "Away!" he yelled, out loud this time, and gestured as reinforcement. The cell had not all that much room, but he liked to think he had convinced him to move off, a little.

They had found him seeking the library. Too fancy a building; he should never have gone there. And what now?

Preferred Pronouns: He/Him/His
Timing: I'm retired and have free time, so once a day should be fine. I'll likely be posting in the evenings.
Content: I don't have any particular problems with any content, but aren't interested in overtly graphic scenes.

First draft character sheet is complete, but I may make small changes still.

[Exfilia]

Originally Posted by SnakeOilCharmer

@Yoshimi, as it turns out, the Leonin from Mystic Odyssey of Theros is almost exactly the thing you're describing - a catperson with strength and con raises (though they're +1 str +2 con) and darkvision. Still have cat's claws, but no climb speed, just the combat use. Get one skill from a bunch of hunting-based options rather than stealth and perception, and the ability to do a terrifying roar in place of feline agility.

IDK if both you and Exfilia are cool with that, but since there's published rules that are such a good fit, I thought I'd mention them.

Thanks. MOoT is sitting on my shelf, too. So far I've only used the monsters. We'll let Yoshimi design the character, though. Climbing might come in more handing than hunting skills.

And I so want to run a MOoT game!

**resists--resists--resists...**

[ElCosoLoco]

I'm fleshing out my character and, well, she's turning out really... peculiar in personality and background. I can't get it out of my head that her birth place is something close to a hippie commune.

[Exfilia]

Originally Posted by Jasontheswift

My app is done, I'll be refining it but I'd really appreciate feedback.

Really cool. Hope he's not claustrophobic, though, coz some of those tunnels....

[Jasontheswift]

@Exfilia, well new fears can always be discovered.

[Touketsu]

Character Application CICADA Race: Kenku | Class: Twilight DomainCleric Background: Feature: Discovery The quiet seclusion of your extended hermitage gave you access to a unique and powerful discovery. The exact nature of this revelation depends on the nature of your seclusion. It might be a great truth about the cosmos, the deities, the powerful beings of the outer planes, or the forces of nature. It could be a site that no one else has ever seen. You might have uncovered a fact that has long been forgotten, or unearthed some relic of the past that could rewrite history. It might be information that would be damaging to the people who consigned you to exile, and hence the reason for your return to society. Work with your DM to determine the details of your discovery and its impact on the campaign.Hermit   Personality Traits - I feel tremendous empathy for all who suffer. - I often get lost in my own thoughts and contemplation, becoming oblivious to my surroundings. Ideal: Self-Knowledge If you know yourself, there’s nothing left to know. Bond I’m still seeking the enlightenment I pursued in my seclusion, and it still eludes me. Flaw I’d risk too much to uncover a lost bit of knowledge. Character Summary: Cicada is a cleric of Selûne who lives his life in dedication to the tenets of the Lady of Silver. He is compassionate, patient, and humble, trying his best to help those around him, and he will gladly give his time and energy in the service of others who are out of balance in their lives. While his communication skills aren't always the best (as one might expect of someone incapable of normal speech), he feels deep empathy for others and possess a large amount of emotional fortitude. Cicada is rather whimsical, deriving a lot of joy from laughing at life's little absurdities, and it allows him to persevere when times are toughest. Backstory:   Cicada was born at dusk, beneath a summer sky preceding a full moon. It was perhaps an omen; the first of many signs that the kenku was destined to follow the path of a Selûnite. Shortly after his birth, Cicada's mother left their dwindling, transient flock in the hope of building a more stable life for her son. They were taken in by an order of clerics, and it was under their protection and guidance that Cicada found an early calling. As it turned out, the life of a Selûnite was rather perfect for a kenku looking to avoid a life of crime. They were wayward stewards of equality and tolerance... followers, but also leaders. Following his mother's passing, the clerics became his only family, and Cicada followed them closely and took to their teachings immediately. While Selûne holds influence over a number of domains, the one that always held the greatest interest to Cicada was that of twilight. The duality of light and darkness resonated deeply with the kenku, who had always found comfort in the influence of night where the memories of his late mother were often strongest. Through his studies, the fledgling cleric developed an early mastery over divine power... until eventually, his progress began to stagnate. Frustrated, he turned to his fellow clerics, and it was at their suggestion that he broke away... took time in seclusion to commune with his goddess, and to attempt to find the block within himself. Eventually, Cicada came to a realization; that while he embraced the comfort and positive aspects of the dark, there were other aspects to it that he had never seen fit to face. Darkness also brought terror... uncertainty. There were creatures who lived their entire lives in shadow, something the relatively sheltered kenku could never hope to understand. if he was ever to advance as a cleric of Selûne, he needed to abandon comfort and face the multiple facets of darkness. Determined not to be swayed from his path, Cicada followed what intel he could on a path to entering the Underdark. Eventually, the cleric found Songwater Grove, a holy settlement from which followers of Eilistraee would often delve into the Underdark on missions of liberation. These people knew the world he intended to enter better than any passing story or book could... and while he was optimistic, the kenku wasn't stupid. He knew powerful and knowledgable guides would be instrumental to his success, and with that in mind, Cicada appealed to the clergy and convinced them to bring him along on a raid. He could never have known the doom that awaited them. Sample:   *THWACK* "Ow!" Cicada glanced back toward the pained cry, cocking his head slightly. Alden, the wizard who'd been walking behind him, was furiously rubbing his forehead, wincing and giving the low-hanging rocky outcrop to his right a dirty look. The kenku let out a stifled, but still slightly audible cackling. "Ugh... yeah. Keep laughing, ya walkin' feather duster. You know I can set you on fire, right?" Alden groaned. Still emitting a low, avian chuckle, Cicada doubled back toward the human. He didn't mean to laugh, but... blessed that he was with Selûne's divine gifts, Cicada had granted several of his present traveling companions the magical use of his own advanced darkvision. On top of that, many of them had torches to light their way in the darkness of these caves. And yet, this brilliant master of the arcane had still managed to collide face-first with a wall. One had to wonder; who was the intellectual superior? The man or the stone? Shaking his head, the kenku silently lifted his clawed hand to Alden's forehead, clutching the medallion around his neck as he did so. There was a dull glow, and the cut on the wizard's forehead stitched itself up. "You know I can set you on fire, right? *THWACK*" The kenku echoed Alden's words back to him, followed by the resounding sound of the impact. The wizard just rolled his eyes. They'd only been traveling for a few days together, but it had been long enough for Alden to begin decoding some of the kenku's method of communication. This particular one was pretty clear: "Plenty of fire magic, but you can't even heal yourself, can you?" "Yes yes... fair enough Feather Duster." The kenku narrowed his eyes and made a chirping sound, flicking Alden across his freshly healed forehead. "Ow- okay okay, sorry. Cicada." Cicada was about to let out some kind of noise of affirmation... but he was cut off by a different series of sounds. The rustle of something in the air... and then a dull thud. Cicada and Alden looked down to see the shaft of an arrow sticking out of the wizard's chest. Alden's breath escaped him, eyes wide as he looked up at Cicada. "I... wha..." Cicada whirled around, staring out into the blackness ahead. He saw them... figures. Dozens of them, pouring out of hidden places in the cavern walls. The kenku's mind reeled as he tried to sound the alarm. "*THWACK!*" Local drow... damn it. Maybe if he'd been looking ahead instead of focusing on Alden, Cicada would have seen them before... no. There was still time. "*THWACK!*" Cicada let out another loud impact sound as his ears registered a softer thud behind him. Alden was down. "*THWACK!* *THWACK!* *THWACK!*" The kenku dropped to his knees, reaching his hands out to revive the wizard. "*THW-!" The cleric stopped sharply... his voice caught in his throat as he felt a sharp pain in his back. He couldn't breathe... pierced lung? No.... no no no... not like this. Gripping at his chest, the kenku fell to his side, feeling reaching for his silver-eyed medallion. Not like this. He still had more in him. Not now... not here. Content: Anything is fine with me! Pronouns: He/Him