[Game Thread] The Adventure Begins

[girlplay]

OOC: I have always felt like this song should be the opening theme for a TV western.

Rosamund Smith Morning came too soon for Sam. The steady ache of too much alcohol still hung over her when the sounds of shifting and the occasional clanking noise came from the adjacent room. It meant that her mother Enid was up and about. The disabled woman had said the day before that she had it in her mind that she was going to today's service. But the truth was is that she was not going to get there and back by herself. Nevertheless, her stubborn streak wouldn't let her admit that. The sun's light had penetrated the shutters which meant that Enid was awake and on a mission. She stumbled into the door between the room with her daughter and creaked it open. "Child, it's time to get up," she declared too loudly to fully ignore. "Where did you put my blue dress? This one's too old for church." And so it began.

Orilo Thunukalathi Nero's home and factory stood as one of the most notable buildings in the area, amongst other fine workshops. It just happened to be about twice the size of any of the others and a place of major industry - well, major for a small, trading hub like Argillon Falls. The place wasn't exactly known for its industry but not everything was or could be imported. And some of the local craftsman produced fine goods. But it was not to be a day of work, but celebration, hope, and looking towards ones future. Many of the residents of the home were already up and starting their day by the time the smell of warm bread wafting up from the kitchen below met Orilo's nostils and stirred him out of his slumber. Rising to the quiet of his small room, where his bed only barely fit and allowed the door to still open, the Goliath began his morning routine when he noted a folded letter on the floor, just inside his door. It read simply: My friend, Would you do me the service of escorting my nephew Liam to the services being held today at Preacher Thomas Morgan's church in South Reach? I shall consider it a personal favor. Your friend, Nero

Dolan Verlos Waking up, face down in the dirt was definitely overrated as an experience. A tickling sensation along Dolan's back told him that some kind of insect was crawling along some exposed skin. The ground was cold and hard underneath him and the unforgiving morning air had yet to be warmed by the rising sun. Its rays flashed onto Dolan's face, bringing him to consciousness before his body was ready to be disturbed. But the scent of something horrid nearby only added to the unpleasantness of his situation. Perhaps it was time to get up and move. From between the building came a gentle, rhythmic squeaking noise. A large Goliath pulled a slender cart between the back side of the buildings. A Kenku woman and a Human male were trailing behind it holding shovels. The Kenku scraped something off of a rough piece of stone and pitched it into the cart. None of the garbage collectors seemed to take note of the man lying in the filth. Or perhaps they had seen it enough times not to care anymore.

Shadow at Dawn Shadow could hear the foot falls of his daughter Treasure on the wooden floor even before the sun's lights hit the small ranch house. She clunked around in her work boots as it was impossible to keep quiet in them. Nevertheless, as she seemed to be in the habit of doing lately, she had started her morning chores before the dawn. Thankfully, most of them took her outside, so the noise was brief and intermittent. A barking accompanied her movements. She was sure that she could teach that dog that she'd found stray a month ago to be a proper sheep dog, but so far all it had done was follow her around and bark at things. It didn't care for Shadow too much either. At roughly dawn, or slightly after, her boot falls came clomping up the few front stairs and the door swung open hard enough to hit the wall inside. "Papa!" Treasure called with a bit of alarm in her voice. She came into his bedroom, something she normally wouldn't do. "Papa? There's three men approaching the house on horseback." It was pretty rare to have visitors on the ranch, especially so early in the day and unannounced. The dog was naturally on the front porch, barking.

Thomas Morgan Time passed minute by minute with Thom staring up into the almost sheer darkness above his bed for what seemed like most of the night. The air was strangely quiet except for the rare sounds of his own breath, as if marking the minutes with an inhale. At moments, he was asleep. Other times he was semi-conscious. His mind did not want to shut completely off and let him rest. Perhaps it was worries over the sermon he was going to give the next morning. Or perhaps that it was that once again he was lying in bed alone. In a city alone. In his life alone. He did not dream but more had random thoughts come and go through his mind like fog drifting through the night air - memories, shapes, people... One of the images seemed to hang with him for a while - distant and faint but there. It was dark, like a silhouette against the blackness of the ceiling. Slowly, it seemed to take form and shape. A person, perhaps? A woman? With long dark hair trailing down on either side of her face that Thom could discern no details of. Softer than a whisper, he heard - or maybe just imagined or dreamed that he heard - a voice. A whisper at best. "You are alone." Silence hung in the air for a long while. "You are not alone," the voice breathed. The morning light hit the shutters, dispelling the infinite darkness.

[Mythrandil]

Orilo Thunukalathi "Yes, your grace, I will certainly speak with the Eastern delegation on your behalf. Well, I suppose you are correct, the title of full ambassadorship is quite necessary - though you know I live to serve..." Unfocused orbs of green emerge from beneath the cover of slumber, blinking rapidly to greet the first shaft of sunlight. Muscles shift like burrowing scorpions, rustling the smooth grey skin above. One. Two. At the cue of his second, slow breath, Orilo rises, bending at the waist until his sheets - smooth as glass, but unyielding - drape from his shoulders; whorls of blue dye are revealed, symbols of his Goliath heritage warmed at the touch of rising sun. Absently, Orilo tugs in a complicated rhythm on the servants' bell; below, in the kitchens, the staff know of the assistant ambassador's desire for breakfast, and a basin of rosewater to wipe the sleep from his skin. Already, Orilo has moved to his dresser (the only other piece of furniture squeezed into the space). To an observer, it would appear that Orilo empties the entire contents onto his stout bed. Hmm, the Green or the Scarlet? Irresistibly handsome, or delightfully daring? After an indeterminable time fussing over his outfit, a scratch at the door catches his attention. Orilo moves aside sundry documents and letters on top of his wardrobe and moves with habitual carelessness to the door. He pauses as his foot scuffs against paper. A letter? Remembering his guest, he opens the door to reveal a liveried servant balancing bowl, pitcher, towel, and tureen. "Thank you, Helene." Orilo moves aside, and the female Tabaxi gracefully deposits her bundle upon the cleared space, departing just as quickly; it is a dance choreographed by routine. Closing the door, Orilo completes his morning ablutions and deposits the washing bowl and rosewater pitcher. That towel was more comfortable than the sheets! Nero won't be thrilled to hear about how this experiment turned out... As he begins consuming his morning gruel, Orilo opens the unmarked envelope with a careful slice. My friend, Would you do me the service of escorting my nephew Liam to the services being held today at Preacher Thomas Morgan's church in South Reach? I shall consider it a personal favor. Your friend, Nero Orilo looks forlornly at the riotous Coral garment on his bed, the sole survivor of his selection. "Looks like it will be the Grey, today."

OOC I took some liberties with the details...let me know if now, or ever, anything needs edited. No skin off my teeth!

[Quick Ben]

Thom Morgan Thom Morgan laid in bed a moment longer, trying to control his rapidly beating heart. Staring at the now mundanely dim ceiling, Thom tried diligently not to consider what seeing shadowy apparitions and hearing disembodied voices might mean for his well being. If this was some new and upsetting twist to his already disconcerting "gift", Thom wanted even less to do with it. I'm not lonely, he thought to himself, I'm self sufficient. There's a difference. Largely unconvinced, Thom finally pulled himself out of bed. Regardless of the upsettingly insightful voices, the worn old manor house did feel empty in the mornings. Avoiding looking into his privy mirror, Thom reached into the basin of tepid water and splashed some on his face. Toweling off, he tried to force his mind to more important matters. Finally looking up into the mirror, he regarded his own dark eyes. The inky blackness was only now fading, revealing his still dark irises surrounded by comfortingly normal sclera. "Happy New Year," he said to himself dryly. Pulling on his crisp white shirt and the dark jacket of his office as community preacher, Thom made his way downstairs. Winter hadn't quite given up its hold on the city, regardless of what the calendar said, but Thom didn't feel the chill. Besides, he wouldn't be home long enough for a fire to make any difference. He was expecting a big crowd for today's service, and he still had things to prepare. Oh, like maybe a sermon, Thom? People will be cross if you don't say something about Elama and Luonto today. Grabbing an apple from the counter, Thom pushed out into the early morning light, consumed with writing something profound for this first day of the year. The little church was close, but the walk would do him some good and give him time to think.

 

Thom Morgan, Human Shadow Sorcerer 1
HP: 14 / 14 | AC: 12 (15 with Mage Armor) | HD: 2/d6
Initiative: +2 | Speed: 30ft | Senses: Passive Perception 12, Darkvision 120'
Saving Throws: Str -1, Dex +2, Con +3, Int +0, Wis +2, Cha +5
Abilities: Str 8, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 16
Weapons: Light Crossbow +4 (1d8, 80/320) | Dagger (2) +4 (1d4, Light, Thrown)
Ability: Starting at 1st level, your existence in a twilight state between life and death makes you difficult to defeat. When damage reduces you to 0 hit points, you can make a Charisma saving throw (DC 5 + the damage taken). On a success, you instead drop to 1 hit point.Strength of the Grave, Bonus Action Once per long rest. Until the spell ends, you deal an extra 1d6 necrotic damage to the target whenever you hit it with an attack. Also, choose one ability when you cast the spell. The target has disadvantage on ability checks made with the chosen ability. If the target drops to 0 hit points before this spell ends, you can use a bonus action on a subsequent turn of yours to curse a new creature. Hex

Spellcasting (Save DC 13, Attack Bonus +5)
Cantrips: Action: 120'. Ranged spell attack. On hit, 1d8 necrotic damage and cannot regain HP until end of next turn.Chill Touch, Action: 120'. You point your finger toward a creature within range and whisper a message. The target (and only the target) hears the message and can reply in a whisper that only you can hear.Message, Action: 30'. Duration - 1 minute. You create a sound or an image of an object within range that lasts for the Duration. The Illusion also ends if you dismiss it as an action or cast this spell again. Intelligence(Investigation) against spell save DC to discovery illusion.Minor Illusion, Action: 120'. Make a ranged spell Attack against the target. On a hit, the target takes 1d10 force damage.Eldritch Blast, Action: 30'. Duration - 1 minute. The hand lasts for the Duration or until you dismiss it as an action. The hand vanishes if it is ever more than 30 feet away from you or if you cast this spell again. You can use your action to control the hand.Mage Hand
Level 1: Action: Duration - 8 hours. You touch a willing creature who isn't wearing armor, and a protective magical force surrounds it until the spell ends. The target's base AC becomes 13 + its Dexterity modifier.Mage Armor, Action: 120'. You create three glowing darts of magical force. Each dart hits a creature of your choice that you can see within range. A dart deals 1d4+1 force damage to its target. The darts all strike simultaneously and you can direct them to hit one creature or several.Magic Missile, Reaction: Self. An invisible barrier of magical force appears and protects you. Until the start of your next turn, you have a +5 bonus to AC, including against the triggering attack, and you take no damage from magic missile.Shield

Metamagic
When you cast a spell that targets only one creature and doesn't have a range of self, ou can spend a number of SP equal to the spell's level to target a second creature in range with the same spell (1 SP for cantrips).Twinned Spell, When you cast a spell that has a casting time of 1 action, you can spend 2 SP to change the casting time to 1 bonus action for this casting.Quickened Spell

Sorcery Points (SP): 2 / 2

[DonaldJWafer]

Dolan After the garbage cart passed, Dolan grunted and pulled himself up. It wasn't easy, his head was pounding and his body stiff from passing out on the ground. He took a deep breath, and almost vomited at the scent of the alley--or at least he hoped it was the alley, and not himself. He thought hard trying to remember how he ended up here. Was it just one day? No. Certainly longer, two? three? All he could remember was in bits and pieces. As he went to rub his eyes he noticed his hands, which were bruised and bloodied and remembered poor Wensel. He felt ashamed and defeated for what he had done, in that one moment feeling all the pain and failure of his adolescence up. The thought of facing Wensel again pained him, but he knew he had too and stood up and walked out into the street trying to take stock of where he was. He hadn't been in Argillon falls for too long, but thought he at least had a good handle on the South Reach, looking around this morning though, he felt like he had never seen this block before. In the distance he could see the Kenku Spires towering over the district and realized he had never seen them from this side before. He had a long walk ahead himself, and plenty of time to dwell on his past.

 

Dolan Verlos, Fallen Aasimar Paladin 2
HP: 22/22 | AC: 16 (18 w/ Shield) | HD: 2/2d10
Initiative: -1 | Speed: 30ft | Senses: Passive Perception 11 Darkvision 60'
Saves: Str +2, Dex -1, Con +1, Int +1, Wis +3, Cha +5
Ability Scores: Str 15, Dex, 9, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 16
Weapons: Flail +4 (1d8+4)

 

Abilities: You have resistance to necrotic damage and radiant damage.Celestial Resistance, As an action, you can touch a creature and cause it to regain a number of hit points equal to your level.Healing Hands (1/1), You have a pool of healing power that replenishes when you take a long rest. With that pool (as an action), you can restore a total number of hit points equal to your paladin level × 5. You may also use 5pts to cure disease or poison.Lay on Hands (1/1), As an action, you can open your awareness to detect such forces. Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the type of any being whose presence you sense, but not its identityDivine Sense (4/4), you can expend one spell slot to deal radiant damage to the target, in addition to the weapon’s damage. The extra damage is 2d8 for a 1st-level spell slot, plus 1d8 for each spell level higher than 1st, to a maximum of 5d8. The damage increases by 1d8 if the target is an undead or a fiend, to a maximum of 6d8.Divine Smite

Spellcasting: Save DC 13, Attack +5
Cantrip: Light
Prepared Spells: Heroism, Bless, Command, Shield of Faith
Spell slots: 2/2

[oztk]

Starting the New Year fresh and clean Sam "Mama..." Sam groans from her bed without opening her eyes. It takes her a moment, with her head pounding, to have any idea what she's talking about. When it does come, she responds with a hoarse shout "It weren't that dirty; I left it on the chair." She finally pries her crusty eyes open and swings her legs over the side of the bed, stopping to stabilize herself as the world begins to spin at the movement. Sam had known she'd be in for church this morning, and had tried to keep it any easy night...for a new years. Just a swing by the main pubs in the Southern Reaches -- The Spade and Barrow, The Stonehome Inn (not a stone building), and Matthew Brewer's place. Few ales with friends, then back home. And she'd kept to it -- until she was nearly home, to her room above the The Boar's Tusk, and came across a fight between two patrons spilling out into the street. Well, she couldn't have that, and quickly stepped in and sorted them out, but of course then Stephen, the landlord, gave her an ale as thank you, and the fiddler was particularly on fire ... and she wasn't sure when, exactly, she'd stumbled upstairs to bed. Her nausea subsided enough to risk standing up, she grabs yesterday's shirt off the chair and starts to pull it on and -- "Dangit, blood." It was barely wearable from the stink of sweat and beer, but she'd expected that...the blood she couldn't remember, but she wasn't aching anywhere, so it must be from one of the two lads who'd been fighting. She hoped. Slipping it over her head anyway, as it was highly unlikely any of the various garments scattered around the floor were any cleaner, she moved gingerly to the one bit of clothing that was clean -- her scale mail, laid meticulously out on a small desk and polished and scrubbed within an inch of its life, just like her Daddy had taught her. She didn't think it was exactly church-going attire, but it seemed to beat the alternatives, so on it went, with some cursing as her already tangled hair got further caught in a few of the plates. By the time she was dressed, her stomach was in outright revolt, and with a quick "right back, Mama" she bolted out the door and down the steps. The streets of the southern reaches were a mess of animal waste on the best of days, and New Year's morning out front of a pub there were some human waste, as well, and together their smells overwhelmed Sam's already unstable stomach, and she added her own bile to a small pile the revellers the night before had already contributed. Beginning to feel half human, she walked around to the stable in the back while wiping her mouth, and plunged her head into the trough of water left for the animals, gasping from the frigidness left from the early spring night. It made her head pulse worse than before, but at least she could think now. Which was too bad, because it meant a wave of shame came over her -- Mama deserved better. Sam felt no remorse at her own behaviour -- last night had been a grand old time, and this was the price -- but her Mama, difficult as she was, deserved to live somewhere better, out of the reaches. Sam was not in a hurry to move, though, even if she had the money. She liked the Reaches, there were honest, real people here, none of the stuck-up pretension of the rich folk in the other quarters. But she'd been worrying this question for months, and wasn't going to solve it hung-over, and the sun was already high and moving her mother was slow -- she'd better get a hustle on if they were going to make this service. Dipping quickly into The boar's tusk -- "Got any bread, Elisa? This stale loaf's just fine. I'm good for it", the tromps back up the creaking stairs to her rooms above the pub. "Looks great Mama. On our way, then?" holding her armored arm out for a handhold as stale crumbs falling from her mouth. It's unclear whether Sam is not mentioning the brown stain on the hem of her mother's blue dress out of politeness, or just never noticed it to begin with.

[girlplay]

Orilo "It's Heather," corrected the Tabaxi servant. "Wreath of Springtime Heather." Her whiskers twitched in annoyance as she moved on, leaving Orilo to his morning routine. A few minutes later, the Goliath and several other guests were enjoying a light breakfast of cheese and canned fruit in the dining room. A couple of the more elderly men were holding a discussion on the merits of dye additives. They agreed on every point. Nero's nephew, Bryenn, was always late to everything but that day, he arrived at breakfast dressed and ready to go without having to be prompted or tracked down. He was wearing his finest boots and slacks, and a loose-fitting purple shirt. If "dashing" was the look that he was going for, he'd achieved it. But at 16-years of age, he appeared more like somebody trying to figure out who they were instead of an established style. Nero was absent from the meal, as were his brother and business partner. They had said something about a business meeting but held back on the details. Keeping information like that close to the chest wasn't very unusual, however. Leaking details of an arrangement yet to be realized invited the competition to try to exploit that information and outbid them. Most of the chatter in the room was fairly innocuous but Orilo did hear Bryenn mention to a man that Orilo didn't recognize that there was a merchant caravan from the west due to arrive soon. It would be the first such caravan of the season.

Thom Morgan The morning air was still cold enough to sting Thom's nostrils as he made his way through the city street. The sky was as clear as could be and the streets weren't much busier. Only a few of the town's residents had stirred from their slumber. Amongst them were 4 parishioners who had arrived at the church early. They had volunteered to help out with helping and setting up whatever the preacher needed for the day's ceremonies. Each was huddled in their coats, patiently waiting by the front door. Viona Trebor, a somewhat plump woman around 40 years of age greeted him with an enthusiastic smile. "Good morning, Preacher Morgan! It's looking to be a wonderful day ahead of us. I've been looking forward to today for the last couple of weeks now. This is my favorite holiday..." She held her gloved hands to her cheeks as if to warm them up. "Just tell us what you need us to do."

Dolan The morning was cold and bright though not terribly unpleasant. The streets were relatively empty except for a few souls moving about. A couple in their 30s were walking while holding hands. A young woman was opening up the doors to the bath house. A petite woman in armor was escorting a frail-looking woman down the street. Dolan more or less came up behind them, as they weren't moving very fast. Dolan's body and head still ached but walking was starting to get his blood moving. The Spires were serving nicely as a marker to guide him though the city and back to where he was more familiar with. Chances were that the boarding house would be very crowded with people who had come out to joy the evening's entertainment but had not been able to make it home. Perhaps he would fit right in with the drunken lot. Looking down at himself, Dolan realized just how filthy he was.

Sam Sam's mother was being very fussy. Enid wasn't happy with her clothes. She complained about the pub downstairs being too noisy all night. She didn't want Sam to help her put on her coat and boots, but then wasn't managing it too well by herself. Getting her down the stair proved to be a major chore. She kept insisting that Sam was hurting her when she tried to guide her. But once they got down onto the street, matters got a bit easier. Enid just needed to stop and rest every once in a while as they made their way down the street towards the church. "When are you going to find a husband?" her mother said to Sam, seemingly out of nowhere. "You're a pretty girl. It shouldn't be too hard for you."

[Sinister]

Shadow turned over a handful of times in his covers, trying to find a position that would signal that mutt to stop its yapping. The damn thing was a menace, he had decided. He'd tried to offer an olive branch in the form of various chew toys and treats, but he had decided the best treat was the tendon in his right ankle, and refused to be persuaded on the matter. If Treasure hadn't been so taken with the little devil he'd have donated it to the preacher weeks ago and let it be his problem. But of course she had fallen in love with the creature and wanted to take it everywhere. Even had some fool notion it might help them herd the sheep.

Well, what did you think would happen when your almost teenaged daughter living out in the middle of nowhere had the chance for something even mildly exciting in her life?

He sighed, trying to find his rest again. He couldn't hold it against her. He was lucky Treasure had been such a kind-hearted child. If she'd been more demanding, there was not a doubt in his mind he'd have spoiled her rotten. How she'd turned out so well was a mystery to him. Had to be blood, and not parenting. She'd have to name that fool dog at some point...

Just as he'd been on the verge of nodding off again, there was a loud noise that made his fur stand on end, and he bolted upright. If it weren't for the familiar sound of Treasure's voice, he might've started up an evocation out of sheer reflex. He tried to take a few deep breathes to calm himself as she came into his room. Her words took him by surprise. They likely weren't rustlers, as such folks would have come for the sheep in the night, not at dawn. And any guests he could think of wouldn't drop by uninvited. He slipped out of bed and pulled his cloak around him, moving like he was back in the old days, ready for a fight.

"You did right coming to fetch me, child. Now stay in the house. You hear any loud commotion, I want you to run out the back on over to Uncle Wilbur's farm and tell him what you saw, understand?"

His tone didn't betray any of the worry in his voice as he tried to stay strong for Treasure. Still, this didn't sit easy with him. He slipped his boots on, and stepped outside to stand next to the mutt, still yapping away. He looked down at it, and it turned up to meet his eyes, tongue lolling out like a fool. Then it looked out to the men on horseback and resumed its noise.

Shadow sniffed.

"Yeah. Me too, mutt. Me too."

His hands hung at his sides under the cloak, ready to start hurling fire if they were so called upon.

[Mythrandil]

Orilo Orilo winces the memory of the the serving girl. "Heather." Shrugging off the faint sting of shame, Orilo affixes his elaborate, hand-sewn wig; a clever combination of fashionable, practical ponytail and daringly luscious beard and moustache. Finally, Orilo hefts his twin weapons: a battered horn, dents from dozens of altercations, discolored from wine as a part-time drink vessel, but still sounding a tone as sweet as sunrise.

Later, at breakfast Orilo chuckles at the decadence of the meal. "Cheese for breakfast, and an extravagance of fruit from a thousand miles distant or more!" At that moment, Bryenn makes his entrance. Orilo examines him closely as the boy pauses for effect. The Goliath's lightning grin emerges, laughter rolling like thunder. "Very nice Bean. I see you've been practicing your demeanor in the mirror, like I told you." Orilo examines his feet. "You've even taken the care to polish your own boots. Good. Did you wax them as well? You will need it today as we make an appearance at Preacher Morgan's New Year service. You'll also need a more generous countenance than normal, it would not do to offend by acting snobbish." Orilo sighs at the recent memory of his own failure of decorum. "Amends must be made, unless I want cold food and dirty water for the next year and a day..." In the hall, the great clock rings the quarter hour. "Speaking of Thom...it is good you have prepared early, this is one of your few obligations to which you CANNOT be tardy." OOC Orilo will wait for a few moments for Bryenn to eat, then proceed to meet with Thom as early before the service as can be managed, if at all.

[oztk]

Nearly stepping in it Sam found dealing with her mother a strain in the best of circumstances, but with her head still aching, dealing with her constant annoyances was like swatting flies off around her head. She did her best to smooth out and dust off her blue dress, and was able to let the complaints about the pub wash over her as she helped her slowly down the stairs. Outside it was a bit easier -- the air wasn't exactly fresh, but it felt freer, and Sam knew half the folk of the Southern Reaches, and gave smiles and nods as folk passed. Until the ambush. "When are you going to find a husband? You're a pretty girl. It shouldn't be too hard for you." Enid had hinted that this or that local man would make a good husband, and expressed the desire for grandchildren, but she had never so baldly put it to Sam like this before, and it caught her off guard, and she'd already been on edge, so she didn't hide her outrage. "Mama! I'm only 19! And why would I want to get married, now? There are things I want to do besides havin' babies, you know. Need to get 'Lysses straightened out and away from Silas. And figure out where Shep went. And get the Reaches straightened out -- King ain't doin' it, Marshall barely comes. And find..." She was about say Daddy, but discussing this with her Mama never went well, and she'd worried what she'd already said had stirred up enough trouble to be getting on with. She sighs, winces as her head pounds once more, and tries to continue more calmly. "I got enough to worry after without addin' a man to the list, is what I'm sayin'. I ain't that pretty, but pretty enough to get a man if it's what I wanted. But it's not. Not right now, 'least. Careful -- round the mess" as she guides her mother around some horse droppings. Sam had been dreading the service, but at this point, it was starting to look like a welcome respite from dealing with her mother.

[Quick Ben]

Thom Morgan "Happy New Year, ladies," Thom said with his most affable preacher's voice as he discovered the ladies already waiting on him at the church. The world-weariness around his eyes shown through for a moment as he smiled and went to unlock the door. He took a deep breath as he pushed through the front door into the narthex. This building was as familiar to him as his own home, perhaps moreso, and he quickly sorted through what needed to be done. Fortunately, despite being a large building by South Reach standards, it wasn't actually a particularly large church. The fitted stone floors were regularly swept and the pews in the sanctuary polished on a regular basis. Turning to his small flock of helpers, he started doling out assignments, "Well, seeing how winter doesn't quite want to give up yet, we could probably use a fire in the sanctuary. The yellow ribbon should be in the storage closet from last year, and I believe Mr. Kent delivered the decorative greenery yesterday afternoon around back. If you ladies could see to the decorations in the sanctuary, I'll get the service set up and we can begin receiving today's visitors." Giving the ladies one last friendly smile, the young preacher turned and pushed open the double doors that lead to the center aisle of the sanctuary. Walking through the quiet, high ceilinged room was calming. Soon it would be full of bustle and pomp, but for now it fulfilled its namesake: sanctuary. In his small office behind the small door at the back of the sanctuary, Thom started pulling out the proper books and icons for a very traditional New Year's service. While he liked to keep things fresh, the special services were never the right time to innovate. At least not without being subtle about it.

 

Thom Morgan, Human Shadow Sorcerer 1
HP: 14 / 14 | AC: 12 (15 with Mage Armor) | HD: 2/d6
Initiative: +2 | Speed: 30ft | Senses: Passive Perception 12, Darkvision 120'
Saving Throws: Str -1, Dex +2, Con +3, Int +0, Wis +2, Cha +5
Abilities: Str 8, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 16
Weapons: Light Crossbow +4 (1d8, 80/320) | Dagger (2) +4 (1d4, Light, Thrown)
Ability: Starting at 1st level, your existence in a twilight state between life and death makes you difficult to defeat. When damage reduces you to 0 hit points, you can make a Charisma saving throw (DC 5 + the damage taken). On a success, you instead drop to 1 hit point.Strength of the Grave, Bonus Action Once per long rest. Until the spell ends, you deal an extra 1d6 necrotic damage to the target whenever you hit it with an attack. Also, choose one ability when you cast the spell. The target has disadvantage on ability checks made with the chosen ability. If the target drops to 0 hit points before this spell ends, you can use a bonus action on a subsequent turn of yours to curse a new creature. Hex

Spellcasting (Save DC 13, Attack Bonus +5)
Cantrips: Action: 120'. Ranged spell attack. On hit, 1d8 necrotic damage and cannot regain HP until end of next turn.Chill Touch, Action: 120'. You point your finger toward a creature within range and whisper a message. The target (and only the target) hears the message and can reply in a whisper that only you can hear.Message, Action: 30'. Duration - 1 minute. You create a sound or an image of an object within range that lasts for the Duration. The Illusion also ends if you dismiss it as an action or cast this spell again. Intelligence(Investigation) against spell save DC to discovery illusion.Minor Illusion, Action: 120'. Make a ranged spell Attack against the target. On a hit, the target takes 1d10 force damage.Eldritch Blast, Action: 30'. Duration - 1 minute. The hand lasts for the Duration or until you dismiss it as an action. The hand vanishes if it is ever more than 30 feet away from you or if you cast this spell again. You can use your action to control the hand.Mage Hand
Level 1: Action: Duration - 8 hours. You touch a willing creature who isn't wearing armor, and a protective magical force surrounds it until the spell ends. The target's base AC becomes 13 + its Dexterity modifier.Mage Armor, Action: 120'. You create three glowing darts of magical force. Each dart hits a creature of your choice that you can see within range. A dart deals 1d4+1 force damage to its target. The darts all strike simultaneously and you can direct them to hit one creature or several.Magic Missile, Reaction: Self. An invisible barrier of magical force appears and protects you. Until the start of your next turn, you have a +5 bonus to AC, including against the triggering attack, and you take no damage from magic missile.Shield

Metamagic
When you cast a spell that targets only one creature and doesn't have a range of self, ou can spend a number of SP equal to the spell's level to target a second creature in range with the same spell (1 SP for cantrips).Twinned Spell, When you cast a spell that has a casting time of 1 action, you can spend 2 SP to change the casting time to 1 bonus action for this casting.Quickened Spell

Sorcery Points (SP): 2 / 2

[girlplay]

Shadow at Dawn Treasure nodded obediently at the instructions given to her and remained inside, as her adoptive father headed outside. The faint smell of wood smoke drifted through the chilly morning air. By the time he got out to the front porch, he could see three men on horseback had come well onto the property and were riding up towards the house at a semi-hurried pace. The halted their steeds about 40 feet from the house and a Human and Lizardfolk dismounted. The third man – also Human - remained on his horse, looking around the property warily. The badge of the marshal’s office displayed on their coats, clearly visible as the two men on foot approach the porch. They both carried swords at their hips. The lead man had a full, black hair that was neatly trimmed and was dressed sharply in a dark-brown, suede coat. Only his wide-brimmed hat looked old and worn. His coal-black eyes met Shadow’s gaze unflinchingly. “I take it you’re the property owner, Mister… Shadow? My name is Marvin Sikes, deputy marshal. I wish that I could… wish you a pleasant morning, but I come on grave business. I’m afraid that I’ll have to put you under arrest…” He paused and glanced down at the dog, which was staring back. The deputy finished, “…for murder.” He fished a pair of manacles out of his belt pouch.

Orilo Bryenn blanched a little at the somewhat public comments and instruction from the Goliath but held his tongue with practiced grace – that wasn’t completely natural. Nevertheless, he responded calmly even if his words sounded a bit forced. [b]“Good morning to you, Orilo. I am indeed excited to attend the ceremonies this morning. It should be a fine service and a chance to get to encounter the good people there. I hear that mister Morgan can be quite inspirational.”[b] He looked over the breakfast foods. “But surely we have time to enjoy this rare and special breakfast that my father has graced us with…” It wasn’t 10 minutes later that that Bryenn had said goodbye to his friends and stepping out into the crisp morning with the Goliath courtier at his side. The younger man had slipped a mace into a loop on his belt, not that it was likely that he’d need it. Then again, South Reach had more than its fair share of ruffians and thieves. “What are you looking forward to today, Orilo?” he started off some small-talk as the men moved off down the street.

Sam It wasn’t clear if Enid was really listening to Sam’s counter-arguments and reasoning or not. After her daughter was done, Enid simply commented, “don’t you think all those things that you wanted to do would be easier if you had the support of a good husband?” She then dropped the topic to fuss about something else: the weather, the cleanliness of the street, the ‘rude people’ that were likely to show up to the service, etc. But finally, the peak of the church came into view and Enid fell into a more reverent silence. Approaching the front doors of the church were a few other groups of people, dressed in their best attire – which made Sam and Enid look a little underdressed and overly dirty.

Thom Once the volunteers had their assigned duties to keep them busy, they pretty much left Thom alone to this thoughts and preparations. A holiday service such as this came with a lot of expectations, including time-honored traditions and an uplifting sermon. His words would set the tone for the day and resonate through the community. He could expect a packed house and several community leaders would show up, including some guests from the Goliath people who had sent a messenger to announce their intent to come. A knock on the door interrupted Thom and a middle-aged woman in a plain grey and maroon dress was at the door. In her hands was a small package. “This arrived for you, preacher,” she relayed and offered the package to Thom. Written on the brown, paper wrapper was penned the words: “For your health on this holy day”.

[Mythrandil]

Orilo Orilo watches as his young charge munches on a creamy hunk of yellow cheese pilfered from the table. He considers the question. "Well I had planned on hunting with Marcus this morning..." Out loud, he instead says "Thom's sermon, of course. For a clergyman, he is unusually perceptive and wise; I haven't once fallen asleep during his services." "Not that I've been to many," Orilo realizes with another uncharacteristic pang of guilt. "What is wrong with you, man! Servants and sermons never bothered you before!" After his brief spasm of self-reflection, Orilo looks at Bryenn carefully. He begins carefully, "You arrived at breakfast neatly today, boots polished, decorum intact...you remind me of another young man I once knew trying very hard to impress someone he thought very important. Liam" the young man looks up sharply at the use of his given name, "Are you going to tell me what's so important about today?"

[Quick Ben]

Thom Morgan Thom took the wrapped package with a word of thanks and managed to avoid grimacing until the woman was out the door. If this was another of the Widow Crane's fruit cakes, good health would be the last thing on his mind for the new year. His mind was still on the sermon, however, and all of the little beats and rituals that the service would require. He carefully set the package back on his desk and turned to the small mirror in his office to adjust his collar. Standing up straight, he checked his unruly hair and deemed it passable enough. All people ever saw were the white shirt and black jacket anyway. Blessings and curses, he thought as he turned to go out and meet people as they arrived. Stopping with his hand on the door, he turned back to the package and scooped it up off the desk, his curiosity overcoming his caution regarding dense, fruit-based confections. He quickly removed the wrapping from the package, holding it carefully in his long fingered hand.

 

Thom Morgan, Human Shadow Sorcerer 1
HP: 14 / 14 | AC: 12 (15 with Mage Armor) | HD: 2/d6
Initiative: +2 | Speed: 30ft | Senses: Passive Perception 12, Darkvision 120'
Saving Throws: Str -1, Dex +2, Con +3, Int +0, Wis +2, Cha +5
Abilities: Str 8, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 16
Weapons: Light Crossbow +4 (1d8, 80/320) | Dagger (2) +4 (1d4, Light, Thrown)
Ability: Starting at 1st level, your existence in a twilight state between life and death makes you difficult to defeat. When damage reduces you to 0 hit points, you can make a Charisma saving throw (DC 5 + the damage taken). On a success, you instead drop to 1 hit point.Strength of the Grave, Bonus Action Once per long rest. Until the spell ends, you deal an extra 1d6 necrotic damage to the target whenever you hit it with an attack. Also, choose one ability when you cast the spell. The target has disadvantage on ability checks made with the chosen ability. If the target drops to 0 hit points before this spell ends, you can use a bonus action on a subsequent turn of yours to curse a new creature. Hex

Spellcasting (Save DC 13, Attack Bonus +5)
Cantrips: Action: 120'. Ranged spell attack. On hit, 1d8 necrotic damage and cannot regain HP until end of next turn.Chill Touch, Action: 120'. You point your finger toward a creature within range and whisper a message. The target (and only the target) hears the message and can reply in a whisper that only you can hear.Message, Action: 30'. Duration - 1 minute. You create a sound or an image of an object within range that lasts for the Duration. The Illusion also ends if you dismiss it as an action or cast this spell again. Intelligence(Investigation) against spell save DC to discovery illusion.Minor Illusion, Action: 120'. Make a ranged spell Attack against the target. On a hit, the target takes 1d10 force damage.Eldritch Blast, Action: 30'. Duration - 1 minute. The hand lasts for the Duration or until you dismiss it as an action. The hand vanishes if it is ever more than 30 feet away from you or if you cast this spell again. You can use your action to control the hand.Mage Hand
Level 1: Action: Duration - 8 hours. You touch a willing creature who isn't wearing armor, and a protective magical force surrounds it until the spell ends. The target's base AC becomes 13 + its Dexterity modifier.Mage Armor, Action: 120'. You create three glowing darts of magical force. Each dart hits a creature of your choice that you can see within range. A dart deals 1d4+1 force damage to its target. The darts all strike simultaneously and you can direct them to hit one creature or several.Magic Missile, Reaction: Self. An invisible barrier of magical force appears and protects you. Until the start of your next turn, you have a +5 bonus to AC, including against the triggering attack, and you take no damage from magic missile.Shield

Metamagic
When you cast a spell that targets only one creature and doesn't have a range of self, ou can spend a number of SP equal to the spell's level to target a second creature in range with the same spell (1 SP for cantrips).Twinned Spell, When you cast a spell that has a casting time of 1 action, you can spend 2 SP to change the casting time to 1 bonus action for this casting.Quickened Spell

Sorcery Points (SP): 2 / 2

[girlplay]

Orilo Bryenn's brow furrowed at the observation from Orilo and he shrugged his shoulders quickly. "I don't know what you're talking about? It's a holiday. And we're going to a service. Couldn't I dress up nicely and act... uhm, with appropriately decorum? I don't get what the big deal is," he insisted, perhaps trying a little too hard to sound like his motivations were completely innocent. Nevertheless, he continued the trip towards the church with an air of confidence, though he seemed to pay much more attention to the scenery than Orilo.

Thom Thom untied the string from the small package to reveal a cedar box with a lid that slid into a groove. Within the box were 2 ceramic vials. They were relatively indistinct from one another but inked onto the side of one was the word "healing" and the other "anti-toxin". No note or any other markings indicated anything about where the box of the potions might have come from. OOC The package contains a potion of healing and a single dose of anti-toxin.

[Sinister]

As Shadow saw the badges of office upon the men, he relaxed somewhat. Though he clearly shouldn't have been so ready to trust. As the words fell from the mouth of deputy marshal Sikes, he felt a cold chill run down his spin. Was it possible they knew of what he had done?!? Had his past finally find its way back to haunt him once again? But...no! It was impossible, and anyone he might have...have killed would have been far enough away that it wouldn't have even been an arresting offense! What where they dragging him in for??

His big green eyes were wide with shock and panic as he looked between the three of them, fur rising up on end, and finding difficulty swallowing. This was not a fight he would've won, even had he wished to fight them, and he certainly didn't wish it. These were just men doing their job but he hadn't killed a man nor woman in over a decade! He considered running for it but...that would only make things worse for Treasure, more than likely. He had to hold things together. Had to keep a cool head about himself, and hope to whatever rotten creatures had seen fit to craft his life might see some justice done for him.

"I swear on my honor I haven't shed blood in Argillon Falls but for old sheep and cutthroat rustlers. And not a rustler's died. I'd know my accusation, deputy. And if you do that, so that I may properly defend myself...well, I'll come along without making a fuss. Who am I to have killed?"