July PotM

[chocoladevla]

<-- the Keukenhof, a place that is very well known by tourists but this year it isn't visited very often, the prices went up skyhigh so unfortunately, less visitors


Our trip through time brought us July, a month where there are a lot of endings and new beginnings. Not sure if this is International or just local #theNetherlands but the educational years are wrapping up and we are preparing for our 6 weeks holiday of school. For two of my zillion kids, a new phase in their lives will begin, one is saying farewell to their 8 years of elementary school and preparing for High Schoo,l and the other one has studied for 6 years and is now going to college (University).

Just like us over here, at the Crossing -> we are leaving a month full of cool intriguing nominated posts June behind, and we are entering a July Post of the Month thread! You have come to the right place to help us find some worthy posts to read and enjoy :-). I assume you are aware of what to do but if this is your first nomination --> make a post in this thread and add:

• Mention what game and where, who wrote it, and link that post
• Explain why you were motivated to nominate this post. What made you enjoy this post so much that it is worth to be shared and seen?
• only nominate a July post, and only nominate once
• Consider nominating your own post if you want to have it be read by many RPG crossing members and not just your own group. You worked hard for it so share and nominate if you think you made that special post

Let's fill this thread with nominated posts and share our admiration for the players who stood out this Month <3

[Jon]

July's POTM Player: Creed Game: Giants and beyond System: D&D 5e GM: Jon Summary of the Post: This is one of those ‘after three years of play’ moments. In this post Creed’s character a sullen dwarven cleric loses his oldest and greatest friend. His dire wolf steed. Its a turning point in his character and the relationships within the party. For those that don’t know the Against the Giants series – it’s a long series of running battles with giants of all kinds. When we started three years ago Creed’s character, Ulster, got off on the wrong foot with Bluejack’s Raackma. This was anchored in the backstories the players brought to the game. Over time the two of them niggle at each other as they go to work fighting and killing giants. Grudging respect has grown – but then Ulster’s friend and steed is caught in the crossfire and is slain. Creed absolutely nails the hollowing sadness of loss and the absolute fury the giants have stoked in him. His oaths at the end of the post are chilling. And the icing on the cake is the interaction with Raackma. The grizzled Colonel of the Irregulars gives awkward words of comfort, which strike to the heart of the dwarf. It is in this moment the relationship is forged annew and the giants would do well to fear their fate! Link To The Post!   Ulster Muladuum The ending of battles still, to this day, always catch him off guard. When the last enemy is slain. When the retreat is called. The noise of weapons clanging, and beings screaming in pain is almost instantly silenced, as if a silence spell had been cast on their location. He stood looking at the carnage that they had unleashed against their pursuers. What was once a formidable party was now nothing but gore that painted the ground in various shades of red, burgundy, and some tinges of black. They mixed together as they began freezing to the ground, the smell still pungent even in it's frozen state. In the centre of it all, he stood. Transfixed on the battlefield. A sight that he had seen so many times before over the centuries. A sight he never got used too seeing, even after all this time. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh caught his ear, and he turned to see Begon....the actual Begon...releashing what was left of his rage on a Giant's corpse. He was covered with the brains and gore of the Frost Giant's cracked skull, it's innards leaking out onto the frozen ground. He could see that he looked ready to collapse, his legs trying their best to hold his bulk vertical. Yet he understood. There was no need for this fight. These fools had seen what they were capable of, and yet still pursued them. And they paid with their lives. 'And this time, so did they', he though, the realization of what was lost returning to his mind. He turned back to where Gaznul fell. HIs body lay motionless, his neck lying at an unnatural angle where the giant had swatted him away like an oversized fly. HIs eyes stared into nothingness, as if seeing something shocking that is no meant for mortal eyes. He felt the grief that he couldn't feel before during battle threaten to wash over him as memories washed over him. The first day he had met him in the stables of Sundabar, his step lively at the prospect of adventuring into the faerum wild. Their countless battles over the years. Lying out under the stars with a belly full of mead and roast pork. He closed his friends eyes and held his furry head close, the warmth of life already faded from him. He knew that dwarves were not known to show emotion; they were like the rock that spawned him; hard, cold, unyielding. While he had left his home decades ago, and had become more of a "sky dwarf" then most of his kin, it was a hard habit to break. He wanted to roar at the heavens, to curse every giant in faerum for daring to take his friend. But all he could do was hold his cold corpse tightly, a few tears slowly soaking, then freezing into his beard. He felt another hand brushing Gaznul's fur on his head. He slowly looked up to see the worn form of Raackma, looking at him with the eyes of one that had seen many of worth and valour fall in battle. "Ulster, I am sorry. I am so sorry.", he said softly, his voice so different from the roars of defiance he had uttered only a few minutes ago. He stepped back, and gave a salute before turning away. He knew of it as one from the band he had once led. The Irregulars if he remembered correctly. He briefly turned back towards the cave, then stopped, as if he had something else to say, but was having difficulty finding the right words. "Oz will immortalize him, Ulster. The bards will sing his name.", he said finally, his words having the weight of near certainty to them. He nodded back in response, acknowledge the old humans words of respect and admiration for his fallen friend. Raackma paused, his expression one that he wanted to say more, do more, but the actions and words were not forthcoming. Eventually he turned back to the cave where the rest were, leaving him with Gaznul and the whistling of the cold wind. He didn't know how long he had sat there after Raackma left, but it was long enough that his metal armour had begun to freeze to the icy ground below him. He was awash in memories; memories of his adventures with Gaznul over the years and decades. He had had many direwolf companions over the decades, but he had been wise enough to always allow them a well deserved retirement, to go out and enjoy their reminding years, chasing prey, making more direwolves, and doing whatever they liked. This was the first that had fallen in battle, the first where he had let his ignorance and pride blind himself to the stark fact that he was in battles that were too dangerous for his furry friend to handle. And Gaznul had paid the price. He slowly stood up, the cold making his joints stiff. Softly placing his fallen friend on the ice briefly, he walked over to where Raackma was searching through the corpses of the fallen fools that dared to face them. He briefly placed his hand on the old human's shoulder to prevent him from being startled. "I'll have to teach Ozgur some proper dwarvian to sing proper words of praise.", he said quietly. The grief was still there; naked for anyone to see, but there was a twinge of humour and respect. He remembered when he first met Raackma; it felt like years ago now. He had slug some harsh words and sharp accusations. He remembered someone saying "Let his actions prove his worth" when he left the tent in an angry huff. If Quinn was right, then it conflicted with the man that now was before him. One that was much different then the stories he had been told by kin. His actions had proven his worth time and time again. Enough that when this was over, he was going to have words with Quinn. "It was a mistake to bring Gaznul on this expedition.", he said to Raackma. He didn't know why he was telling this old human this, but as he was the only one that had reached out, he felt that he should know. "I thought it was be a quick fight. We'd vanquish some hill giants and be done with it. Give him one last battle before heading back to Sundabar to be put out to stud.". He paused for a second, the emotion threatening to bubble to the surface once more. "I've had the first born direwolf of his forebearers for almost two hundred years. Gaznul was the first to fall in battle. I was......I was arrogant to think he could stand against the bastards that we faced here, and this arrogance cost him his life." Time passed for a bit as he helped Raackma finish going through their enemies possessions. He was so laser focused on the task that he hadn't noticed Ozgur coming to them. He mentioned the dire state that Begon was in, his ferocity now demanding its penance. "I can help that along,", he said bluntly, "but it will be at least tomorrow before I can provide any help there.". Ozgur lashed himself and went for a stroll in the still howling storm, himself and Raackma holding the rope to keep him from being swallowed by the Malestorm. When he returned, Raackma mentioned actually wanting to negotiate with these bastards. He gave a look of disgust at the sheer thought. "You didn't ask, but negotiating with these bastards has long since past. Hill. Frost. All of them. They're all the same. They all need to die. We need to keep vanquishing them in numbers where even the Annam All-Father gives pause, and their supposed Jarl comes begging for peace. And then my warhammer will have the pleasure of crushing his skull.", he finished sternly, slapping the business end of his warhammer into his open palm. He left them to hear his words, although he had no idea if they had any weight. It mattered not; they were in to the thick of it, there was no going back now. And he had work to do. Solemn work. One to pay his last respects. Another to send a warning to those that killed his friend. OOC Having a viking funeral for Gaznul. Then he's going to set up totems that giants would understand out of the fallen enemies. A message that says that death awaits those that come here. Turn back, or meet your death   Stats Ulster Muladuum | Healing Cleric | Level 11 HP:99/99 | AC: 22 | PP: 15 | Speed: 25 (50 with Boots of Speed) Stats: Str 14(+2), Dex 13 (+1), Con 15 (+2), Int 13(+1), Wis 20 (+5), Cha 11 (0) Languages: Common, Dwarvish, Elvish Currently wielding: Warhammer, Light Handaxe Resistances: Poison Racial abilities: Darkvision, Dwarven Resistance, Dwarven Combat Training, Tool Proficiency, Stonecutting, Dwarven Toughness Class Abilities: Ritual Casting, Spellcasting Focus, Turn Undead, Destroy Undead, Divine Intervention Class Focus Abilities: Disciple of Life, Channel Divinity:Preserve Life, Blessed Healer, Divine Strike Feats: War Caster Spell Slots: 1st: 1/4 | 2nd: 1/3 | 3rd: 2/3 | 4th: 1/3 | 5th: 0/2 | 6th: 0/1

[Wynamoinen]

Player: Strangemund
Game: Uncaged (Season 3, Journey to the Wilds)
System: D&D 5e
GM: yours truly, Wynamoinen

Link to post.

This is my campaign of one-shots, and the current "season" (that is, adventure and group of players) has been going for a few months. It's a high-level adventure, and so the PCs are rightly confident in their abilities. Most confident of all is The Great Feng Wu (who has close resonances with Sun Wukong, the One of the inspirations of the adventure is Journey to the West. Read it, if you haven't!Monkey King), a Drunk Monk monkey played by Strangemund.

The party entered an isolated town populated with monsters who seem mostly welcoming of strangers. As a way of exploring the town and getting to know the locals, I asked the players to define their own challenges: pick an activity, and make up some sort of "contest" between you and a local, and then make some skill checks. It's using PC abilities as a storytelling tool, which is a trick that I like to pull as a GM.

Strangemund took a high risk, high return path. She declared that The Great Feng Wu (TGFW) met a monster who offered "A Finger Eater Trap", a mysterious box. That's all the information she gave me. So I had to make up what this trap did! It's the essence of collaborative storyteling. I said if TGFW succeeded, she'd snatch a magical coin from the box. But if she failed, well.. a finger would get eaten. I defined the stakes of the situation, and in the post, TGFW accepts those stakes.

Then Stragemund rolled a nat 1 on trying to snatch that coin.

All I told her was "at least one finger needs to get eaten." Strangemund took that and ran with it, producing the nominated post. It's a long post, but it's a post that has a lot to say, and will certainly have echoes through the rest of the adventure. It's a character dealing with consequences, and a player reveling in HAVING consequences that she needs to explore. I'm also letting my PCs take some narrative control in this scene, and you can see Strangemund controlling NPCs (within some basic parameters I set), and doing it well.

 

The Great Feng Wu The Great Feng Wu Character Sheet   Dragonborn ReskinnedMischievous Spirit of Drunken Mirth Monk - Level 10 Folk HeroYoung Spirit HP: 90/90 | Temporary HP: --/-- Hit Die: 10D8/10D8 AC: Unarmored Defense/No Armor18 | Init: +5 | Movement Speed: 50ft | Prof Bonus: +4 | Passive Perception (Wisdom): 13 | Passive Investigation (Intelligence): 9 STR 12 (+1) DEX 20 (+5) CON 16 (+3) INT 8 (-1) WIS 16 (+3) CHA 12 (+1) | Active Effects: None Saving Throws: Strength (+5), Dexterity (+9), Constitution (+3), Intelligence (-1), Wisdom (+3), Charisma (++1) Weapons/Attacks: Attack Roll: Melee = 1D20 + 9 Damage Roll: Melee = 1D6 + 9 Damage Type: Bludgeoning Range: Close Combat Special Traits: Martial Arts Your practice of Martial Arts gives you mastery of Combat styles that use unarmed strikes and monk Weapons, which are shortswords and any simple melee Weapons that don't have the Two-Handed or Heavy property. You gain the following benefits while you are Unarmed or wielding only Monk Weapons and you aren't wearing armor or wielding a Shield. • You can use Dexterity instead of Strength for the Attack and Damage Rolls of your Unarmed Strikes and Monk Weapons. • You can roll a d6 in place of the normal damage of your Unarmed Strike or Monk Weapon. • When you use the Attack action with an Unarmed Strike or a Monk Weapon on Your Turn, you can make one Unarmed Strike as a Bonus Action. For example, if you take the Attack action and Attack with a Quarterstaff, you can also make an Unarmed Strike as a Bonus Action, assuming you haven't already taken a Bonus Action this turn. Unarmed Strike | Attack Roll: Melee 1D20 + 11 Damage Roll: Melee = 1D6 + 11 Damage Type: Bludgeoning Range: Close Combat Special Traits: Versatile This weapon can be used with one or two hands. A damage value in parentheses appears with the property—the damage when the weapon is used with two hands to make a melee Attack. Magic This staff can be wielded as a magic Quarterstaff that grants a +2 bonus to Attack and Damage Rolls made with it. It also has the following additional Properties. When one of these Properties is used, it can't be used again until the next dawn. Lightning: When you hit with a melee Attack using the staff, you can cause the target to take an extra 2d6 lightning damage. Thunder: When you hit with a melee Attack using the staff, you can cause the staff to emit a crack of thunder, audible out to 300 feet. The target you hit must succeed on a DC 17 Constitution saving throw or become Stunned until the end of your next turn. Lightning Strike: You can use an action to cause a bolt of lightning to leap from the staff's tip in a line that is 5 feet wide and 120 feet long. Each creature in that line must make a DC 17 Dexterity saving throw, taking 9d6 lightning damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. Thunderclap: You can use an action to cause the staff to issue a deafening Thunderclap, audible out to 600 feet. Each creature within 60 feet of you (not including you) must make a DC 17 Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, a creature takes 2d6 thunder damage and becomes Deafened for 1 minute. On a successful save, a creature takes half damage and isn't Deafened. Thunder and Lightning: You can use an action to use the Lightning Strike and Thunderclap Properties at the same time. Doing so doesn't expend the daily use of those Properties, only the use of this one. Staff of Thunder and Lightning | Attack Roll: Melee 1D20 + 9 Damage Roll: Melee = 1D6 + 9 Damage Type: Piercing Range: Ranged 80/320ft. Special Traits: Finesse When making an Attack with a finesse weapon, you use your choice of your Strength or Dexterity modifier for the Attack and Damage Rolls. You must use the same modifier for both rolls. Light A light weapon is small and easy to handle, making it ideal for use when Fighting with two Weapons. Shortsword   Skill Name Ability Proficient? Expertise? Skill Mod Acrobatics Dex Yes - +9 Animal Handling Wis Yes - +7 Arcana Int - - -1 Athletics Str Yes - +5 Deception Cha - - +6 History Int - -1 Insight Wis - - +3 Intimidation Cha - - +1 Investigation Int - - -1 Medicine Wis - - +3 Nature Int - - -1 Perception Wis - - +3 Performance Cha Yes - +5 Persuasion Cha - - +1 Religion Int - - -1 Sleight of Hand - - - +5 Stealth Dex - - +5 Survival Wis Yes - +7 Artisan's Tools: Brewer's Tools - Yes - - Artisan's Tools: Cook's Utensils - Yes - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -   Character Level Proficiency Bonus Class Class Specialization Class Level Features 10 +4 Monk Drunken Master 10 Unarmored Defense, Martial Arts, Ki, Unarmored Movement, Monastic Tradition (Drunken Master), Deflect Missiles, Slow Fall, Extra Attack, Stunning Strike, Ki-Empowered Strikes, Unarmored Movement Increase, Drunken Master: Tipsy Sway, Evasion, Stillness of Mind, Unarmored Movement Improvement, Purity of Body Features and Abilities: Common, CelestialLanguages | Simple Weapons, ShortswordsWeapon Proficiencies | Brewer's Supplies, Cooking UtensilsTool Proficiencies | NoneArmor Proficiencies | MediumSize | 50 Ft.Speed | When you take the Attack action on your turn, you can replace one of your attacks with an exhalation of magical energy in a 15-foot cone. Saving Throw: DEX DC 15 Damage Roll: 2d10 Fire DMG | Successful Save takes Half Uses Per Day: 4 per Day | Long Rest RefreshesRACE: Breath Weapon | Resistant to Fire-type DMG.RACE: Draconic Resistance | When you take the Attack action on your turn, you can replace one of your attacks with an exhalation in a 15-foot cone. Saving Throw: DC 15 Pick one Ability for whenever you use this trait: - Enervating Breath: Each creature in the cone must succeed on a Constitution saving throw or become incapacitated until the start of your next turn. - Repulsion Breath: Each creature in the cone must succeed on a Strength saving throw or be pushed 20 feet away from you and be knocked prone. Uses Per Day: 1 per Day | Long Rest RefreshesRACE: Metallic Breath Weapon | Since you come from the ranks of the common folk, you fit in among them with ease. You can find a place to hide, rest, or recuperate among other commoners, unless you have shown yourself to be a danger to them. They will shield you from the law or anyone else searching for you, though they will not risk their lives for you.BACKGROUND: Rustic Hospitality | Ki Points Total: 10 Ki Save DC: 15 Your Training allows you to harness The Mystic energy of ki. Your access to this energy is represented by a number of ki points. Your monk level determines the number of points you have. You can spend these points to fuel various ki features. When you spend a ki point, it is unavailable until you finish a short or Long Rest, at the end of which you draw all of your expended ki back into yourself. You must spend at least 30 minutes of the rest meditating to regain your ki points.CLASS: By Ki | Immediately after you take the Attack action on Your Turn, you can spend 1 ki point to make two unarmed strikes as a Bonus Action.KI ABILITY: Flurry of Blows | You can spend 1 ki point to take the Dodge action as a Bonus Action on Your Turn.KI ABILITY: Patient Defense | You can spend 1 ki point to take the Disengage or Dash action as a Bonus Action on Your Turn, and your jump distance is doubled for the turn.KI ABILITY: Step of the Wind | Your speed increases by 20 feet while you are not wearing armor or wielding a Shield (at your current level.) You have also gained the ability to move along vertical surfaces and across liquids on Your Turn without Falling during the move.CLASS: Unarmored Movement | You learn how to twist and turn quickly as part of your Flurry of Blows. Whenever you use Flurry of Blows, you gain the benefit of the Disengage action, and your walking speed increases by 10 feet until the end of the current turn.MONASTIC TRADITION: Drunken Technique | You can use your Reaction to deflect or catch the missile when you are hit by a ranged weapon Attack. When you do so, the damage you take from the Attack is reduced by 1d10 + 15. If you reduce the damage to 0, you can catch the missile if it is small enough for you to hold in one hand and you have at least one hand free. If you catch a missile in this way, you can spend 1 Ki point to make a ranged Attack (range 20 feet/60 feet) with the weapon or piece of Ammunition you just caught, as part of the same Reaction. You make this Attack with proficiency, regardless of your weapon Proficiencies, and the missile counts as a Monk Weapon for the Attack.CLASS: Deflect Missiles | You can use your Reaction when you fall to reduce any Falling damage you take by an amount equal to five times your monk level.CLASS: Slow Fall | You can Attack twice, instead of once, whenever you take the Attack action on Your Turn.CLASS: Extra Attack | you can interfere with the flow of ki in an opponent's body. When you hit another creature with a melee weapon Attack, you can spend 1 ki point to attempt a Stunning Strike. The target must succeed on a Constitution saving throw or be Stunned until the end of your next turn.CLASS: Stunning Strike | Your Unarmed Strikes count as magical for the purpose of overcoming Resistance and immunity to nonmagical attacks and damage.CLASS: Ki-Empowered Strikes | You can move in sudden, swaying ways. You gain the following benefits. - Leap to Your Feet: When you're prone, you can stand up by spending 5 feet of movement, rather than half your speed. - Redirect Attack: When a creature misses you with a melee attack roll, you can spend 1 ki point as a reaction to cause that attack to hit one creature of your choice, other than the attacker, that you can see within 5 feet of you.MONASTIC TRADITION: Tipsy Sway | You can use your action to end one Effect on yourself that is causing you to be Charmed or Frightened.CLASS: Stillness of Mind | Your instinctive agility lets you dodge out of the way of certain area Effects, such as a blue dragon's lightning breath or a Fireball spell. When you are subjected to an Effect that allows you to make a Dexterity saving throw to take only half damage, you instead take no damage if you succeed on the saving throw, and only half damage if you fail.CLASS: Evasion | Your mastery of the ki flowing through you makes you immune to disease and poison.CLASS: Purity of Body | Accustomed to the rough-and-tumble fighting using whatever weapons happen to be at hand, you gain the following benefits: - Increase your Strength or Consititution score by 1, to a maximum of 20. - You are proficient with improvised weapons. - Your unarmed strike uses a d4 for damage. - When you hit a creature with an Unarmed Strike or an Improvised Weapon on your turn, you can use a bonus action to attempt to grapple the target.FEAT: Tavern Brawler | You have martial training that allows you to perform special combat maneuvers. You gain the following benefits. - You learn two maneuvers of your choice from among those available to the Battle Master archetype in the fighter class. If a maneuver you use requires your target to make a saving throw to resist the maneuver's effects, the saving throw DC equals 8 + your proficiency bonus + your Strength or Dexterity modifier (your choice). - You gain one superiority die, which is a d6 (this die is added to any superiority dice you have from another source). This die is used to fuel your maneuvers. A superiority die is expended when you use it. You regain your expended superiority dice when you finish a short or long rest.FEAT: Martial Adept | When you hit a creature with a weapon attack, you can expend one superiority die to distract the creature, giving your allies an opening. You add the superiority die to the attack's damage roll. The next attack roll against the target by an attacker other than you has advantage if the attack is made before the start of your next turn.MANEUVER: Distracting Strike | When you hit a creature with a weapon attack, you can expend one superiority die to maneuver one of your comrades into a more advantageous position. You add the superiority die to the attack's damage roll, and you choose a friendly creature who can see or hear you. That creature can use its reaction to move up to half its speed without provoking opportunity attacks from the target of your attack.MANEUVER: Maneuvering Attack | -- | -- | -- | --   - Spellcaster Table: - - - - - - - - Class Level 1st-Level Slots 2nd-Level Slots 3rd-Level Slots 4th-Level Slots 5th-Level Slots 6th-Level Slots 7th-Level Slots 8th-Level Slots 9th-Level Slots -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Spellcasting Ability: -- Spell Save DC: -- Spell Attack Bonus: -- Cantrips Known Cantrips Chosen -- --, -- Spells Known Spell Name Spell Slot Level Ritual -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --   Movement taken: Action used: Bonus Action used: Reaction: Opportunity Attack: Status:   Regretfully, I rolled a Nat 1 on that Sleight of Hand check! Goodbye, fingers! I hardly knew ye! "That is quite the price for such a lil’ token…" The Great Feng Wu said with a skeptical snort, but her eyes betrayed her, her interest piqued. "No matter what I ask– it will tell me the truth?" The monks always said there was power in knowledge. That an emperor could crumble underneath a single secret. She couldn’t deny that tempted her. Especially when she considered the possibility of using it on her companions. No longer would she have to wonder what they thought of her– what they felt about her– with that simple little coin, she’d have irrefutable proof. The Great Feng Wu swayed back and forth on her feet, before she grinned at the Old Woman, and slapped her hands on her stall. "I’m in!" The Old Woman bowed her head, smiling a wide, gentle smile, and stepped back for The Great Feng Wu to examine the box proper. The Great Feng Wu ignored the warning of the imp behind her. He’s scoffing, “You’ll do no better than me, monkey!”, all but fell on deaf ears as she slid her large, oafish hands over the impossibly black wood. Its shade was as foreboding as the pitch black hole that not even the sun could pierce on its side. No matter how she raised it to the sunlight, it showed no reflection. No shimmer of light. Just an impenetrable inky darkness. The Great Feng Wu tried to not show her nerves. Instead she raised the box to her ear, and listened. Nothing. She shook the box, and again, waited for any sound of a tumbling coin or a skitter of feet. And again, she heard nothing. The Great Feng Wu squinted at that. Skeptical that there was any real threat inside the box at all. ‘Bah! It is a trick! She’s just tryin’ to scare me!’ And yet The Great Feng Wu found herself hesitant to stick her hand in the veil of black. Setting it back down on the stall, she squatted down to eye level with it. Thumbing its edges this way and that, pretending that she was searching for clues to unravel its mysteries. Then finally she snorted, saying loudly for all who stopped to watch the mad spirit play the Old Woman’s game, "Child’s play! The Great Feng Wu’s outraced the wind an’ danced with lightning! This so-called Finger Eater will starve this day!" It was a proud boast. One to raise her spirits just as much as earn the cheer from the crowd. And with a roll of her shoulders, The Great Feng Wu pushed her sleeve up, and stuck her hand in the hole. It was cold. The sort of biting chill she expected from a winter day on the mountains. It prickled her skin. Needling her exposed flesh as though it were driving a thousand needles into her fingers and palm. She shivered. But then laughed, keeping a brave face as she reached in further. And found that the box, which sat easily in her palm, swallowed her hand up to her elbow. The next thing The Great Feng Wu felt was a gentle trace of something moving along her hand. It startled her at first. The Great Feng Wu yanked her hand back out with a start, fur standing on end. But after she found her courage again, she searched for it. Found this thin spindly thread drifting down from…whatever you could call was above the box. She thought it a spiderweb at first. The way it tickled her skin so lightly, but there was just too much of it for it to be so. And it didn’t stick to her hand at all. It just moved around her. Drifting around her wrist and fingers as she pushed her arm further into the box until… The face of The Finger Eater was pressed into The Great Feng Wu’s hand. It was a cold, clammy thing. Featureless in ways that made no sense to the mortal mind, let alone a spirit’s. It had no mouth. No eyes. Nothing but a blank slate of a face. It made The Great Feng Wu’s skin crawl. And truthfully, she thought she lost the moment she touched it. Bracing herself for the worst of its fury when she brushed its dead flesh– but nothing happened. It didn’t so much as stir, let alone notice her presence. And that upset The Great Feng Wu more. “It will not move until you take its coin…” advised the Old Woman, reading The Great Feng Wu’s confusion and fear. The Great Feng Wu bit her lip. Her other hand clenching shut as she swallowed back the tremble of panic that rose in her stomach. She couldn’t back down now! She was a warrior! A hero! The Seeker’s truest companion! What a mockery it’d be to her legacy if she were to fall prey to a common merchant’s game! Hear all, would-be listeners, The Seeker’s cowardly companion! "Then this will be an easy feat indeed!" grunted The Great Feng Wu, her pride overpowering her sense as she felt for the coin next. She didn’t have to search far. It was in the hands of the beast. Held up in mock offering to whoever dared enter its domain. The Great Feng Wu paused. Her heart a storm in her chest. Thundering louder than the cheers of the people around her. Her fingers flexed. Waiting. Waiting. Until finally–! The Great Feng Wu snatched the coin out of The Finger Eater’s grip. "Hah!" She shouted with glee. Eyes wide as she moved as quick as a viper in reeds to pull her hand free. Victory sweet in the air, as she knew she could do it! She knew she couldn’t bested by any measly puzzle beast– Something snagged The Great Feng Wu by the wrist. A hand, cold as the dead, gripped her wrist. The Great Feng Wu immediately panicked. She pulled as hard as she could. She dug her feet into the earth, and slammed her shoulder into the stall. Using everything she could to yank her hand free– but she could not best the Finger Eater’s strength. All she could do was wait and feel as it gripped her palm next with its other slender hand. Spreading her fingers out slowly. The coin forgotten. Dropped somewhere in the chaos. As it moved closer to her. And what The Great Feng Wu thought was a blank and seamless face was no more. A thin line split across the beast’s face, and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth too big to fill a human mouth gently pressed itself against the first joint of two fingers. And slowly, so agonizingly slowly, it began to bite down. And that was when The Great Feng Wu began to scream. – It was the wet washcloth that drew The Great Feng Wu from her stupor. Her vision blurry as she stared up at the Old Woman from what looked to be from behind her stall. "Wh-wha– what happened…I… " Pain shot up The Great Feng Wu’s right arm. Burning through her bones and flesh like she’d been struck by lightning. It wasn’t often The Great Feng Wu cried out in pain, but here, she did. Bowling over as she clutched her arm, flexing her fingers only to find…only to find… ...two were gone. The Old Woman dabbed at the sweat on her forehead, while one of her many hands did its best to bind and wrap the bloody stumps that were once The Great Feng Wu’s middle and index finger. “Do not burden yourself with your loss. It was my own doing. I peered too far into your soul, and saw someone that was not yet here. Not yet wise enough to tackle such a fearsome task.” The Great Feng Wu stared blankly down at her hand. Moving her fingers, trying to find feeling in the others– in the others that were– that were– "It took ‘em. It took my fingers…" “I know, child. I know.” The Old Woman cooed, tying the bandage tight to stem the blood flow. The Great Feng Wu didn’t even notice her shirt was stained with it. Or that whatever warmth the summer air gave her was replaced with a dull, winter’s chill. The Great Feng Wu shivered. “We have a healer in town that can tend to the remains. A wise old Tengu who's seen his fair share of hardships. He’ll fix you up.” The Great Feng Wu nodded, although she didn’t hear a single word the Old Woman said. Her eyes glued to the fingers that were not there. Still thinking that if she just closed her eyes, if she just flexed her hand just enough, they'd be there. The Old Woman sighed when The Great Feng Wu didn’t move. Her gaze drifted to the busy street. “Pitiful soul. Let us hope your companions are not far…”

[bananabadger]

Player: Mallothi
Game: The Witch is Dead
System: PbtA
GM: Mallothi

Nomination: We all love a good eyeball-poppin' post, one that causes us to stop, stare, and admire the descriptions. This one does that, and then it gets to the eyeball popping ... literally. For nearly 2 years now, Mallothi has guided his players as a group of furry and feathery familiars who have banded together to travel far and wide in order to take revenge on the mean ol' witchhunter who murdered their witch. In this post, the animals finally bring down the rotten villain Ulrich von Furchtbar in a dramatic, triumphal battle where new dangers begin as soon as one victory is achieved. All they have to do now is pop those eyeballs and scurry off to start a dark ceremony that will bring back their beloved witch. What could go wrong? Go, cute, little, loyal familiars!

Link to Original Post

 

GM Brie, sheltered safely under one of the auditorium seats, sees Rocco slide past, the soft gray-green flesh of his cherubic face squealing as it skips across the lacquered wood floor. The goblin comes to rest nearby, his body a limp and twisted heap. Brijida is close behind, slinking between the rows as quietly as possible. She whines softly when she reaches Rocco’s side, nuzzling his bloodied face. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking, but Brie detects the gentlest flare of Rocco’s nostrils in response to Brijida’s touch. If the goblin lives, and the Familiars can find a way to escape the lecture hall, their faithful fox will have to drag him to safety. In the meantime, there’s nothing more one rat can do for poor Rocco. Brie turns away, mounts the nearest chair, and scrambles up the rich upholstery to the crest of the seat’s high back. “NYEHHH!” Furchtbar flails wildly at Zorandicus with both fist and saw. Luckily for the great owl, the Witch-Hunter’s toothy blade sails wide, and he suffers only a glancing punch to the wing. Andy soars in a wide arc toward the center of the auditorium, regaining his senses before wheeling around for another attack. Furchtbar whirls, spitting curses at the pale blur of Andy’s retreating form. His face twists into a demented grin. “HA-HA! GO AHEAD AND RUN, YOU WINGED DEVIL!” With Andy out of reach, the man whips back around to face the others and is immediately met with another crackling spear of lightning from Brie’s wand. Furchtbar’s eyes go wide, and his maniac smile withers. The Witch-Hunter screams and ducks the bolt of arcane energy, barely evading the blast. It’s just the distraction Brie and his Not-So-Goodfellas need. In that moment, when Furchtbar is doubled over to shield himself, the half-dozen remaining rodents charge the man, leaping at his ankles, his shins, and then begin clawing their way up his legs. From his perch atop the seat, Brie squeaks his command: “Gnaw, gnaw, gnaw, gnaw, gnaw, gnaw, gnaw!" The rats set upon Furchtbar’s limbs like they’re the last meal they’ll ever eat. The wiserats rip and tear, chew and shriek, until the human’s feet squelch in boots brimming with blood. Furchtbar kicks and thrashes, roaring with rage, but the rats are undeterred. Those that the Witch-Hunter is able to dislodge simply scramble to their feet, shake their gore-soaked heads, and charge again. The hit-squad’s frenzy is something more than simple professionalism, for every rodent that ekes out an existence in the shadows of man’s domain knows their cruel tyranny firsthand. Each of them has suffered and been made witness to the casual slaughter of their kin since time immemorial. The rats attack, are batted away, and attack again. They assail the Witch-Hunter with crazed abandon—a savagery to match that of their human overlords. Furchtbar wails in pain. Tears stream from his bulging eyes. The rats offer no mercy. This man may not have killed their mothers—Abigail is just a pretty name to the wiserats—but even so, this is personal. “NO! STOP!” The Witch-Hunter’s cry is a high keening now, shrill with a new layer of emotion—fear. “NOOOOOO!” The cumulative effect of multiple lightning-blasts and a thousand vicious cuts is too great. “No-no-no-no-no!” He staggers, halting and unsteady, up the auditorium’s main aisle on stilt-like legs reduced to tatters and lurid, winking bone. The saw clatters noisily to the floor. Furchtbar’s knees buckle, his eyes flutter, and he stumbles. He sways in place for a moment, wearing a sad, faraway look. Finally, he simply tips sidelong over his ruined feet and falls. His charred mane, still smoldering, makes a gentle WHOOSH as his body rushes to meet the floor. His limbs crumple under him, and his head hits the ground with a sickening slap. His cracked and bleeding lips tremble as he struggles to form a word. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, drifting over the far distance. He sighs, breathing something that sounds like “Abigail,” then gurgles and lies still. "ANDY! Take the spoon! Take his eye! FINISH HIM!" Ernest, materializing from the shadows, shouts at the owl overhead, his words muddled for the silver spoon clamped between his teeth, but clear enough. Raindrops on Roses bounds to the tomcat’s side, adding, “Take care, brother owl! Place the spoon but do not remove the eye! In accordance with the Lady Abigail’s instructions, the ritual must be performed by a creature that loved the Witch in life. It must be one of us who finishes the task. Place the spoon, my feathered cousin, and make room!” The hare goes on, addressing the rest of the Familiars: “Quickly, you must decide amongst yourselves who will do the deed. My special talents are better suited to enabling a hasty retreat.” The hare indicates the auditorium entrance with a tip of his head before bounding off. Raindrops takes a few quick hops toward the door, where Stanley Schnurrhaar still lies sprawled half-in and half-out of the small goose-shaped opening, having fainted from the effort of providing so much last-minute exposition. “Finish the deed,” Raindrops calls back to his companions, “and I will clear the path. Stand back!” The hare closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath. He shifts from paw to paw, clears his throat, and intones, “Barricade of wood and steel, bulwark made-of-man, fashioned to seal our fates and so appoint this human hall an eternal animal tomb—I command you, OPEN!” The man-sized door to the auditorium rattles in weak reply but remains securely shut. “Blast!” the hare curses, wrinkling his nose in frustration. “This stuporous magician will not be budged!” Raindrops on Roses begins thumping one of his hind legs nervously, mind racing. Suddenly, he stops fidgeting. “Ah-ha! Of course!” He hops closer to Stanley. “Second Mother prepared us for such an eventuality, with wisdom in the guise of parable!” He turns to the others, his excitement growing. “A kiss!” He exclaims. “Think of the Lady Witch Abigail’s favorite stories: In more than one—most, actually!—a helpless human maiden is roused from her hibernation by the power of a dashing hero’s passionate embrace.” The hare puffs his chest in a decidedly heroic manner. “Again, I say, stand clear!” Raindrops settles on all fours near the comatose warlock’s face. His pink tongue darts from between his teeth, smoothing the fur of his velveteen lips. He inches closer, whiskers dancing. His eyes gently drift closed. He leans forward and—ZZZZZIIIP! Stanley’s body shoots back through the tiny portal and disappears. Raindrops jumps back in surprise. “It worked!” But not really. The moment that the venerable professor of Celestial Magicks and Mechanics is yanked free of the goose-door, a loathsome face pokes through the opening to take his place. Geoff, Furchtbar’s favorite human lackey, sneers at the grisly scene inside the lecture hall. Whether roused by the fracas in the theater or the din of the approaching canine horde, the Witch-Hunter’s men are awake and have taken up positions on the other side of the door. “My, my,” Geoff coos wickedly. “You fellers sure have been busy.” He winks. “Just a moment. Be right with you.” The face disappears and the animals can hear the shuffle of heavy boots and the sound of barking, growing to a crescendo. Outside Geoff hollers, “Get this door down before them damn dogs get up here!” A second later—BANG!—the door jumps violently on its hinges. BANG! Splinters fly. BANG! BANG-BANG-BANG! The Familiars know: a few more good blows and the door will be open.

GM - OOC No need to roll for removing the Witch-Hunter’s eyes. PCs have one round of posts before Geoff and his men break down the door. PCs have two rounds of posts before the dogs reach the auditorium. Even with Furchtbar out of the picture, all actions should be considered DANGEROUS until further notice. Because it’s been so long, and because many of the details were relayed via PM, I’ve included all the steps to the Witch’s resurrection ritual in a spoiler, below.

 

Character sheet
Brijida		Make Flame
understand/Interact with humansClever	scare, drag, push, carry, bite, scratchFierce	sneak, steal, hideSly	outpace, climb, evadeQuick
2	2	1	1
Current Danger	0

 

Quick Stats Raindrops on Roses | Hare | Lock/unlock, Open/Close Clever 0 | Fierce 0 | Sly 2 | Quick 3 Current Danger 1

 

Character sheet
Rocco		(No Magic)
understand/Interact with humansClever	scare, drag, push, carry, bite, scratchFierce	sneak, steal, hideSly	outpace, climb, evadeQuick
0	1	2	2
Current Danger	1

 

Quick Stats Rattin’s Wiserats | Rats remaining: 7/10 | Rules for play Clever: 0 | Fierce: 6 | Sly: 4 | Quick: 4 Current DANGER: 0

 

Potion Effects Althavorel’s Serum of Modest Growth - Target grows to 1.5x its normal size for d4 hours Lady Ami Brand Diminishing Salve - Target shrinks to 0.25x its normal size for d4 hours Plowman’s Helper Strength Potion - Target becomes stronger (+4 to Fierce) for d2 hours Sticky Goo Mountaineering Paste - Target gains ability to move up, down, and across vertical surfaces and upside down along ceilings for d10 minutes Enter Sandman Sleep Aid - Target instantly falls asleep and will not wake (except by magical means) for d8 hours Bonnie’s Good Luck Lip Balm - Target gets lucky (roll all tests twice and take the best result) for d2 hours Nana’s Secret Beef and Barley - A recipe for plain old soup

 

Resurrection Ritual To perform a resurrection, according to the Witch’s grimoire: The killer’s eyes must be removed with a spoon of finest silver The eye removal must be performed by someone who loved the victim in life The eyes must be allowed to rest for at least 20 minutes The eyes must be ground into a thick paste The paste must be applied to a doll in the likeness of the deceased, and the doll must include a strand of the deceased’s hair The doll must be buried 2’ deep in soft earth under moonlight

[tomplum]

Player: Drifter One
Game: Chronicles of Jôrd: Troubled Lands
System: D&D 5e
GM: Thorsten

Nomination: We haven't been in this game for long and made it through out first battle (that we kicked some serious butt in). Our destination was altered as a result and we wound up in a different city than we had intended. Skarn, the scarred veteran warrior, beelined to the tavern and ran into an old flame who coaxed our story out of him. This post is that story. It is a fantastic retelling of events but better than that, it reads like a scene from a play. Drifter One perfectly added in little breaks and descriptions of his character's movements, lip smacks, thoughts that the telling became more than just words. It became alive in the mind.

link post

 

Originally Posted by Drifter One

"Yeah? Why don't you try me? I've seen a lot of bull lately."

Skarn peered over the top of his cup and gazed into the eyes of Gabriella. He knew the look all to well, and the glint in those hazel jewels told him that she was going to get the story from him, one way or another. He gulped down the ale loudly and sighed heavily, placing the wooden tankard down upon the table with a thud.

"Well," he began. "It was sold to me as a simple escort job, easy coin y'know? By Thurin of all people."

"Longshanks? You make it sound as if he mis-sold you the contract. Did he?"

Skarn held up his hands and gestured, shaking his head.

"No...no. Longshanks was good for the job. It just was less than what i was hoping for. Work has dried up down south and we are all feelin' the pinch. Thurin is as skinny as a rake!" Skarn subconsciously rubbed his shoulder, trying in vain to massage the ache from his muscles. Gabriella raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Your are not looking particularly healthy yourself, Skarn. What happened to your beer belly?"

"I try to maintain it, but all i get to drink these days are generally watered down pints of horse piss. This stuff excluded." Skarn motioned to the frothy beverage set on the table before him. "Anyway, we were set to escort this caravan of stuff, d'no what was in it, couldn't care less, just some junk this portly old merchant was shiftin'. Was s'posed to to taking it to Skarbury."

"Skarbury?" Gabriella interjected. "How in the Divines name did you end up here?"

Skarn paused to quaff what was left of his second pint, his beard wet from guzzling the beer. He raised a hand in the direction of the bar.

"'Keep! Two More!" The Veteran warrior shuffled on his seat, adjusting the dagger in his belt which was now digging in his side. Clearing his throat, he continued, his voice low. "Well, the weather took a turn, didn't it? Bloody rained so hard it felt like oceans were being dumped on our 'eads. And the wind! By the fires of the Abyss, it blew right through, chilled me to the bones it did! So we ended up stayin' in this half fallen church. Wasn't the best but we had to get out of the rain. Bumped into a few extras, also shelterin'. Some pompous Priest and his boy lackey. Good with a tune though, to be fair to him. "

Gabriella smiled, the enchanting smile that always caused Skarn to blush a little. "Sounds like you have been making friends at last!"

Skarn shook his head, his sour expression returning. "Hardly. Most of them are mute. The priest never shuts up and Jahan here...well, he is good company in the ale house!" Skarn nodded across to Jahan and raised his tankard. "And her..." He gestured to Kinya. "...not said a word yet followed us here. Dunno why, but..."he leaned forward towards Gabriella, his voice barely a whisper. "Summink odd about her. Like, really odd. Dunno what it is though."

Gabriella leaned back in her pew and took a delicate sip of her wine, swishing the red liquid around the glass as she swallowed.

"So first watch was when it happened."

"When what happened."

Skarn shuffled uncomfortably and went to drink again but the tankard was empty. Where was that bartender.

"'KEEP!?" he bellowed. He looked intently at Gabriella. He found her easy to talk to, always had. And it had gotten him in trouble before.

"These bloody ....things! Like dead dogs, flesh hangin' off 'em like they've been flayed and left to rot. Stunk like an Owlbears shitbox too! Came outta nowhere, but they proved nothing special to handle, so we handled it."

A maid suddenly appeared and unceremoniously dumped two more pints on the table, spilling some of its contents.

"Cheers love." Skarn said and took a gulp and sat back in his booth. Gabriella looked intently at him, her eyes piercing through the barriers Skarn had mentally erected.

"And?" she queried.

"And what?" Skarn retorted. A pathetic look pf innocence trying to mask his feigned ignorance.

"What else? You are not telling me something."

The grey haired mercenary grunted. He could never conceal anything from this woman.

"Gabby, controlling the dogs was this creature, a faceless beast with the form of a person. It...it...it had me worried for a bit, and then... "Skarns hand subconsciously moved to his chest where the tendril had struck him and he traced the length of the scar with this finger. "I can only describe it as a ghostly tentacle...thing. Struck out at us all and some of us got hit."

Gabriella moved her hand to rest on his. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I think so," Skarn grunted. "A bit sore but no ill affects. not sure about the others." He glanced at Jahan and Kinya. "It was then the terms of the contract changed. 'cause of the ghostly thing and the helldogs, it was decided the caravan would divert to 'ere, Caer Karholt with the other mob. All this hassle and a scar for Ten 'gees."

"Who were the other, "mob"?" she asked.

Skarn shrugged. "Well, the Priest and his jester were travelling with some girl. Proper high society by the way the priest harked on about 'er. Never spoke to 'er, never really saw 'er. But she is 'ere. In Caer Karholt"

Gabriella smiled at Skarn, the kind of smile which could have a thousand meanings.

"Interesting," she said. "Very interesting."

 

action:
bonus action:
Movement:
Reaction:

https://www.dndbeyond.com/sheet-pdfs...e_73328024.pdf

[Jennifer]

A conclusion Player: Lady Jennifer Game: Heart of the Shadow System: D&D 5e GM: Tomplum Nomination: Top of the morning to everyone. I'd like to start by saying that I feel guilty or similar nominating this post because it's mine, but I also felt that given Tomplum was so nice as to nominate part one of this trilogy of posts in May, and Jon was nice enough to nominate part two of this trilogy of posts in June, it felt somewhat wrong not to give the judges the conclusion of the story. This is Tomplum's game, located at: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/forumdisplay.php?f=18904 . It was more a story of intrigue and subtlety than it was your traditional "storm the castle and rescue the damsel" story line. It was a lot of fun, and no where near what I was expecting; he surprised me a number of times with twists and spins in the story. The story started off innocently enough, we rallied around an establish character's home, well small castle I suppose is better, and the character started to take form, that of the inquisitive, naïve, do gooder. I wrapped her around a sort of mixture of kender curiosity, young teenager with illusions that bad things only happen to other people, as well as the idea that "if it's pretty, then it must be good - evil things are always ugly." Ostensibly the character is a monk, was a monk? I'm not sure her story is complete yet, but this adventure is so not sure which way to describe her. I say that because I didn't really play her as a monk. I took the attributes and skills and spun them to be completely different, but still the same. For example the "way of inner light" just became radiance that glowed off her to effect some thing - sometimes it helped her damage, but more often it healed her/others or strengthened them. Tomplum had us get a minor trinket for our characters. I see this done rarely in other games around RPGx, and usually it ends up being a hook to the game and nothing more. I worked with Tom and wrote a significant backstory to my item and even that eventually changed too, it became a plot point in the story and it really was a lot of fun to write and work with. The reason I bring all this up is because Khloe turned from a character in a story, into a unique person and writing her made me change from playing a character to really internalizing the idea of "what would Khloe do in this situation?" Not "what do I want my character to do" not "what's in character for her" but more than that. Deeper than that. I'm sure we've all had similar experiences with some of our characters. Given that she has become, to me at least, so much more than just a character in a story; and as you'll see in a moment the mother of future characters to come; I was loathe to just let it sit with the build up and the climax of the story and not at least share the epilogue with our readers. https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...65#post9506665   Your arms are my castle, your heart is my sky Moments later, as if waking from a dream, the two of them awoke in the largest bed that Khloe had ever seen. It was wider and longer than a team of horses, it had columns of white granite spiraling up into the sky to end in star finials, shear drapes hung from the posts and heavy curtains were pulled back. They both lay there in the bed, fully clothed, wondering if they had just shared a dream, if the other was aware of the dream, how did they get in the bed, and what was going on in the castle. She squealed loudly, kicking her feet and hammering her elbows into the over stuffed mattress. All around her was beauty, from the billowing canopies of the finest curtains and draperies, to the goose down stuffed duvet, the pillows were soft, yet firm like the breathing chest of a man under your ear, his furry chest and soft flesh caressing you into a warm bubble of safety; but it was more than that. She was alive! She could feel every hair on her head vibrate, her fingers and toes tingled with electrified energy. Somehow, some way, she had managed to buy the freedom of her friends, of the town, even Rodrigo achieving more than her dreams could have ever prepared for her to comprehend let alone desire to achieve. Leaping from the bed she tore to the window, throwing open the dark curtains and spilling light throughout the room. From somewhere in the back a groan could have been heard, but not from her. She peered out the window to see a bluebird sitting on a flower box stuffed full of jasmine. "Oh you adorable little darling, you sing so beautifully little birdie." she called to the bird. Unfortunately for Khloe the bird had been a long term resident of the city and knew nothing but pain and suffering to come from the castle. Thus instead of coming to her as her heart desired, it flew off. She frowned before returning to her natural smile, "Awe, bye bye birdie. Come back soon." Below her children ran in the streets. The sun overhead streamed light into the town, mold and mildew long since having enjoyed nothing but moonlight and the darkness of twilight curled back being snuffed out by the sterilization of beautiful light. In the distance the bells started to ring out, first one chapel, then another, then another. The light tinkling of bells from the shrines, the thunderous bells of the chapels, all played their glorious themes into the waking dawn; all dwarfed by the swelling sound of Mistress Nyx's Grand Basilica's pipe organ, it's joyful noise filling the air and the hearts of all with the Song of the Night. Chills ran down Khloe's spine as the song poured forth. Men, women, all present sang while working and playing, singing along with the tune as a tear formed in Khloe's eye. "You should see this, Rodrigo. It's... it's glorious." Khloe cooed as she felt, not just heard, felt, the thunderous chimes ring out the Song of the Night. It rippled through her, washing her from head to toe as it did so. She could feel the power from within mix with it, her inner light or whatever Nyx had called it, seduced the music drawing it into her. Unwilled her inner spirits manifested themselves, swam with her mind in the song, drawing upon the energy and feeding off it. Behind her, Rodrigo, grabbed a pillow and slammed it over his face. "I should have let her kill me. Why didn't I let her kill me. Now I have to put up with her being so cheerful and bright, never again to sleep in, to enjoy a quiet night." He mocked, for despite her cherub like demeanor, he too felt a stirring of the soul, compelling him to celebrate as well. He put the pillow down padded up behind her. His arms wrapped about her like stone walls, his chin rested atop her head like a crown, as he held her close. He too had been infected, feeling joy for the first time in thousands of years, the crystal enclosure that had once encapsulated his heart truly broken. The darkness, the emptiness of his life gone. What once was void, filled naught with even so much as starlight, not spilled over with fullness for his castle, his people, his matron, even this dancer of the dance. She turned into his embrace, sliding her chin up his chest so she could look up into his softened, green eyes. "Oh pooh, you old man. You need a little more cheer and a lot less gloom in your life anyway. Come on, let's get out of bed and go see the town. We can wish the townsmen good morn, get buttered biscuits with honey, play with the children, ..." In faux outrage he grabbed her, twirling her as if still a part of the dance, as he did so the softness of his green eyes fell upon her, his well cut jaw produced a warm smile, instead of the charming spell used to seduce women away, all that remained was his soul; softened and warmed as he replied, "I think not, my minx of joy. Mistress who are my stars and my moon. Let's go back to bed and see if we can make some of our own beauty and let the townsfolk clean up before we go out to inflict your boundless joy upon them." Khloe looked up and kissed him. The dance of the night before, was it the night before? Time felt 'off' in this place, well the dance had intertwined their souls. It wasn't love or lust that drove them, it was more...it was as if two bodies held one katra, and that one katra wanted to reunite. She allowed him to bring her back to the bed, drawing the curtains about them as they engaged in all the naughtiness he knew of, and all the new ideas she brought from witnessing her family. For a lord of the manor, he sure was a sheltered young lad...a young lad over 400 years older than she, but sheltered nonetheless. The darkness of his heart was gone, replaced with something else. They gave of all they had to each other that morning, bringing forth the first of which was to be many children. Her first, her first would be trouble however - her first, Mary Celeste de la Sossion, Matriarch of the Family Sossion in the Prime Material, bearer of the Copper Comb. She would stand upon the inflection point of humanity and lycan communities. Would she be true to the test, or would she fail? The darkest clouds are at the door. The trail out is concealed in darkened hail. The zigzag lightning stands high upon yore. Yet it is ourselves who must measure the scale. We, Lord and Lady alike, stand upon the cusp of a new dawn. Man and woman and child alike reaching for more. Yet the city and grounds before us lay forlorn. Inside us, a light, a beam of radiance reaches out towards the shore. The town, once asleep, they couldn't believe they couldn't see. Kept in the dark, the twilight, despite reality in front of them. They've been sleeping a thousand years waiting for me. Now is the time for awakening, a time to revive the diadem. For thirty years Khloe worked with the townsfolk. Came to know them. To know their children and their children's children. Like the night itself she never grew a day older, nor did her Lord Rodrigo. By day they held the form of humans, bold, noble, true; they walked and talked with all. They were as one as they lead their people into the twilight of their existence. The brilliance of the day done, and the promise of the night to come. By day Rodrigo and Khloe helped shop keepers repair their thatched roofs, worked on the stain glass windows of the Basilica, played with the children in the fields, and gave of their all to any who asked. By night Lord Rodrigo took upon the form of a werewolf and Lady Khloe that of a Fuchsbau; guarded the city, the city's tower, it's grand basilica, its persons, and it's animals from all the evils of the night and the threats of the day. Wolf and fox, strong and wily; in all the realms of all the races of all the peoples only here, under the Sossion family, were children playing in the night truly safe. They ruled justly, tempering Rodrigo's sense of right and wrong with Khloe's mercy and compassion. They invited in the thieves guild, sent their Night's Guard to train at Helm's temples, called upon wise counsellors and learned sages to establish schools. They put the needs of the town first, they grew their family and treated them as any other townsman, they taught that no man is greater than another by right of birth, but that nobility comes from within; that truth and honor was the gift one gave themselves; that the future is not written and if you want the future to be a good one, then you had better effect it yourself, lest others do it for you. Year after year the town grew to love their Lord and Lady and their Lord and Lady grew to love their town. Gardens sprung with beauty renewed. The gardens that Rodrigo had planned in the dark of night, now blossomed and teamed with life. Druids were hired to spur the growth of gardens and farms, to heal that which was hurt due to the lack of the sun. Meanwhile Nyx's grand basilica drew the most powerful priests and priestesses from across the multiverse as they sought training from Lord Rodrigo; they sought the secrets that only Nyx had gathered over eons of listening into the whispers of the most powerful, the most traumatized, the warmest and darkest thoughts uttered under cover of night. Khloe gave birth many times over the years. Either the gods hated her or adored her, for she had two score children in her prime, and her children grew and prospered, many wandered back out into the various realms restoring the traveling circus that was the family heritage, some engaging in adventure, others mingling with politicians and lawyers. Khloe's heart longed to travel with them, it was unnatural for one such as she to stay too long in one place - yet this was her place now. A geas imposed upon her, preventing her from leaving and compelling her to keep magnifying the beauty and wonder herein. Her first born, Mary Celeste De La Sossion, bore the copper comb of the family line. It's magic no longer accessible to Lady Khloe after that fateful dance, but fully restored for her daughter. Mary stepped forth one day, with the sad and glad blessings of her mother and father, to enter the prime material plane. Like her mother she sought to bring beauty into the world, but like her father she realized the need for darkness, the need to have the night and how to read the signs. Nyx had blessed her, given her deeper insight into the lore told by the stars - stars that had seen it all, been there through it all, recorded it all. She, if she lived, would one day become the greatest champion Nyx had ever set forth. Not that it made it any easier for Khloe to kiss her eldest daughter goodbye, and wish her many blessings with the hopes that she would return to tell her of her travels. Then again, what parent happily kisses their children goodbye as they leave the nest? What parent doesn't harbor thoughts of the darkness and despair that awaits, wishing to leap between harm and their loved ones? Just as she felt that night, that night when a man in armor, a monk in cloth, a druid in leather, a craftsman with golem; when those she called friends fought with valor and might to free the town, to save the maidens, those she had not seen in many moons. With great sadness of heart, Khloe lifted the copper comb from her hair and slid it into Celeste's. "My daughter, sergeant in the Nights Guard, Priestess of Nyx, you've made me so proud over your life time. You know this comb, you know it's power is...well unique. Somehow, in some way, it will be the tool you need when you need a tool the most. How it will help you, I cannot say, but cherish it. Give it to my granddaughter when you have her. Most importantly though, please come home one day." she kissed Celeste softly on the cheek, a tear in her eye for she knew it was time for Celeste to learn what it was she needed to learn to fulfill the destiny that Nyx had conspired for her. Celeste hugged her mother, shook her father's hand. Standing there in armored mail, cloaks of protection and magic around her, the very blessings of Nyx herself infused into her being and despite that, she felt naked and exposed. Years of experience in the Night's Guard, command experience, but this would be her first foray from home, away from the wise counsel of her father and the emotional support of her mother. She knew she was ready, she was champing at the bit to get going, but still, part of her wanted to stay. Mother, father. she could say no more as something lodged itself in her throat. Moments later Khloe's daughter stepped into the portal, with the blessings of her mother and her father, while her mother and father held hands and watched. They truly hoped she would be okay, and despite Khloe's tears, Rodrigo reminded her that Celeste was an adult, she was trained by Captain Harmon Shīrudo himself, she carried the copper comb, and she had Nyx's blessings, she was well cared for. Though the reassurances would never replace the fear in Khloe's heart. She was working with an artisan on the roof of the great basilica. They were enchanting it to look like Nyx upon her dais, her velvet cloak of stars swept to the side as she sat in judgement over the night. Behind her, robed in wispy milk like fur, stood Selune, mistress of the moon. This was to be the capstone of the newly rebuilt temple. Even the splendor of the castle itself could not compare to it's beauty. That sky looks awful dark. she looked deep into the new roof. It stretched before her, around her, engulfing her. The room seemed to spin ever so slowly, like the night sky on fast forward. She watched as the stars became constellations, the constellations telling the tales of old as great heroes and heroines fought the good fight, defending beauty and honor. She had a lifting sensation as she looked on. Wow! Look at that. Solonor Thelandira, or if you prefer in the original elvish, Soʊloʊnoʊr θɛˈlɑːndɪrə, soared through the celestial sphere, her silver tipped spear thrusting deep into the ram's side as she slew her beast. Beside her, Mɔːrɑːdɪn, Moradin; rained blows upon a new spear for her. Up and down, like a mechanical piston, his hammer fell upon the razor sharp lightning spike that would be the tip of Soʊloʊnoʊr θɛˈlɑːndɪrə's new spear. Sparks like miniature stars cascaded off into the distance, becoming comets with great tails. He handed it to Solonor. As he did so, Soʊloʊnoʊr took the spear and thrust it deep into the gullet of a charging boar, a boar of silvered skin; razor sharp, venom filled spines ran along the beasts sides as the great huntress took down her prey. And there, there stood Helm his shield up, Tempus stood behind as hoards of demons appeared to scurry up from the under-realms to be brought down by sword and hammer strike. Another scene sprawled before her, then another and another. The story of the gods and goddesses; of great heroes and heroines; of legend and lore sprawled through the night skies. Each great event recorded in the stars to be remembered forever by her mistress of secrets. The stories behind them, the reasons for them, the fragile delicacy of the tapestries of life reflected in shades of navy. She climbed yet higher into the night sky. The recreations of memories ages past fell beneath her as she drew nigh, receding and threatening to reveal to her secrets even more strange, more powerful than even the inner thoughts of the gods. She was drawn closer, so close she felt she could actually grab ahold of the sky itself and tear it apart in her hands. Almost she could see the velvety folds before they parted like great curtains rolled back from the diadem. Great human legs appeared before her, rapidly decreasing in size as Nyx walked back to her throne. "The twilight of life is often wasted on the youth, do you not agree Lady Khloe de la Sossian?" she stood only momentarily before engaging the deepest curtsy she'd ever given, her forehead almost touched the floor. "Mistress Nyx!" she squealed with girl like exuberance. Khloe knew it was wrong, but she wanted to jump into Nyx's lap and get a hug. Impetuous, disrespectful, but classic Khloe. Nyx smiled at Khloe. The copper comb had been given to her eldest daughter, fully recharged with a new soul to draw upon. That did not mean Khloe was wholly unprotected, rather the opposite. Nyx had plans for the young monkette. Yes she was effectively 30 years older now than she was before, not that time travelled the same in the plane of night as it did on the prime material, but look at her still the same young monk that had come up all those years ago, stood right there all those years ago, suffered torments all those years ago, and still today her brilliance of spirit could mute the colors of the brightest rainbow; especially at the kind word from her husband. Nyx smiled to herself, without her intervention the two would not have met, would not have created the children that now scampered across the planes, spreading the story of Nyx and her grandeur to all persons, building her worship base and bestowing increased power to her demesnes. This was not the end of the story, but it is the end of this chapter. Khloe had more to do, more to say; Khloe would be called upon to save son and daughter, to restore twilight to the darkest paths and hope to the oldest of knights. Will she be up to the task? OOC Stuff Character Stuff   Human (Variant) Monk (8) / Way of the Divine Attribute Mod Str +0 Dex +5 Con +1 Int -1 Wis +2 Cha +1 Sheet HP 31/45 AC 17 (21) Monk Ki 8/8 Prof Bonus 3 Passive Percep 15 Initiative +10 Spell Save DC 13 Spell Attack NA Key Skills Acrobatics 8 Athletics 3 Insight 2 Perception 8 Stealth 7 Languages Common Senses None Homeland Nomadic/Company                         Equipment   75 GP in various coins; cash on hand     Common Clothes     Performer's Outfit (magically mends itself, allows performer to alter costume to appear at will) - 100gp     Dungeoneer's Pack: Includes a backpack, a crowbar, a hammer, 10 pitons, a tinderbox, 10 days food, a waterskin, 50 feet hemp rope.     Mess Kit     Signal Whistle     Steel Mirror     2 Pieces of Chalk     2 Pieces of Coal     10 Sheets of Paper (in waterproof Mapcase)     Exquisite Outfit (Gown fit for a royal ball with makeup, perfume, appropriate jewelry, shoes, and hair ornament)     Fishing Tackle     50 feet Silk Rope (Sailor)     Billowing Cape (Free gear) - per DM also lets hair fly     Comb of Thunder (50gp) - Cast thunderwave once per lifetime     Eldritch Claw Tattoo (500gp) - +1d6 dmg, extends martial arts range to 30ft     Equipment Monastic Tradition: Way of the Divine   Bonus Proficiencies: Monks who follow the Way of the Divine do as well, except they are able to channel the divinity of their faith into their fighting style, making them the spiritual embodiment of the holy wrath of their gods.     Fury of the Faith: When you choose this tradition at 3rd level, your attacks come alight with divine wrath. When you take the Attack action on your turn, you can spend 1 ki point to infuse your strikes with holy power. For the rest of your turn, any melee attack you make deals radiant damage instead of the traditional weapon damage. If you make a successful attack while this effect is active, you can expend 1 additional ki point to deal an additional 2d8 radiant damage.     Divine Affinity: Starting at 6th level, your connection to your deity allows you do exert some of their will upon the world. Using an action, you can spend 3 ki points to cast one of the following spells: zone of truth, prayer of healing or see invisibility.     Steadfast Devotion: Beginning at 11th level, your faith is unquestionable and keeps you on your feet, even when your body begins to break. If you are reduced to 0 hit points and it doesn’t kill you outright, you can expend 1 ki point, no action required from you, to have 1 hit point instead and remain standing. Using a ki point in this way immediately gives you 1 level of exhaustion.     Monastic Tradition Ki-Abilities Flurry of Blows: Immediately after you take the Attack action on your turn, you can spend 1 ki point to make two unarmed strikes as a bonus action.   Patient Defense: You can spend 1 ki point to take the Dodge action as a bonus action on your turn.   Step of the Wind: You can spend 1 ki point to take the Disengage or Dash action as a bonus action on your turn, and your jump distance is doubled for the turn.   Unarmored Movement: Starting at 2nd level, your speed increases by 15 feet while you are not wearing armor or wielding a shield. At 9th level, you gain the ability to move along vertical surfaces and across liquids on your turn without falling during the move.   Deflect Missiles: Starting at 3rd level, you can use your reaction to deflect or catch the missile when you are hit by a ranged weapon attack. When you do so, the damage you take from the attack is reduced by 1d10 + your Dexterity modifier + your monk level. If you reduce the damage to 0, you can catch the missile if it is small enough for you to hold in one hand and you have at least one hand free. If you catch a missile in this way, you can spend 1 ki point to make a ranged attack with the weapon or piece of ammunition you just caught, as part of the same reaction. You make this attack with proficiency, regardless of your weapon proficiencies, and the missile counts as a monk weapon for the attack, which has a normal range of 20 feet and a long range of 60 feet.   Slow Fall: Beginning at 4th level, you can use your reaction when you fall to reduce any falling damage you take by an amount equal to five times your monk level.   Extra Attack: Two attacks per round at 5th level   Stunning Strike: Starting at 5th level, you can interfere with the flow of ki in an opponent’s body. When you hit another creature with a melee weapon attack, you can spend 1 ki point to attempt a stunning strike. The target must succeed on a Constitution saving throw or be stunned until the end of your next turn.   Ki-Empowered Strikes: Starting at 6th level, your unarmed strikes count as magical for the purpose of overcoming resistance and immunity to nonmagical attacks and damage.   Evasion: At 7th level, your instinctive agility lets you dodge out of the way of certain area effects, such as a blue dragon’s lightning breath or a fireball spell. When you are subjected to an effect that allows you to make a Dexterity saving throw to take only half damage, you instead take no damage if you succeed on the saving throw, and only half damage if you fail.   Stillness of Mind Starting at 7th level, you can use your action to end one effect on yourself that is causing you to be charmed or frightened.   Monk Abilities Languages: Common (racial) Feat - Alert: You can’t be surprised while you are conscious; You gain a +5 bonus to initiative; Other creatures don’t gain advantage on attack rolls against you as a result of being hidden from you.   Feat - Lucky: You have 3 luck points. Whenever you make an attack roll, ability check, or saving throw, you may spend 1 luck point to roll an additional d20. You can use this ability after the original roll, but before the outcome is revealed. You choose which of the d20s is used for the attack roll, ability check, or saving throw; You regain expended luck points when you finish a long rest.   Racial Abilities & Feats A warning: It is rather long, as were the previous two posts. In part that's because it's setting up Khloe's next adventure. Anyway, I hope it was enjoyable; yes I feel sort of guilty nominating myself, but chocoladevla said too! Also, as I mentioned, I really just wanted the last of the set posted. So the story is complete. (One day I'll sum up what happened prior to the first nomination as well as these three posts and convert them into a short story, so I ask, anyone who has any thoughts or comments, good or bad, any feedback at all, please PM me with it. I really want to be a writer one day but I realize that my work is not publisher ready yet, so any thoughts or comments that can help me improve is much appreciated. ***hugz for everyone***)

[Fillyjonk]

Player: AnotherDragoon
Game: Ghosts of Saltmarsh
System: D&D 5e
GM: Fillyjonk
Nomination: I love firsts, and this one is special, because this druid is level 4, and yet it his first time becoming an animal. He usually takes on a Starry Form. AnotherDragoon, always a stand-out player, has developed such a voice for Falco. He really gets what it is like to be a Hin who Bilbo Bagginsses away from what is expected to adventure, but to now change from a navigating corsair with a penchant for start charts to a low-belly croc was a stretch for the character---but he had to, to escape the notice (and the claws) of a young green dragon.

Link to Original Post

 

After while, crocodile Falco listened closely when Tifapine, who were probably there a minute ago, spoke about th' dragon an' where they might could find it. "Interestin', so he don't stay in th' temple. Wonder how them lizards feel about that. His hoard must be in th' caves to then." Well, they have a destination 'n' a plan now. He turned t' Bingle t' explain he wouldn't be able t' talk as a croc so they would need signs an' signals. "I can swish me tail back 'n' forth fer No, lift up me head up with me mouth closed like a smile fer Yes, or open me jaws an' hiss if'n we're in danger. How's that sound?" Yes, no, an' let's go; what else could they need? "Oh, an' I should be plenty big enough fer ye t' ride on me back. If'n ye want." He knew that he would want t' ride on a crocodile's back, given th' chance. So now, all were left were t' do it. But how? He had th' idea down from goin' starry but that were different. When he did that, Falco tapped into somethin' from up beyond th' sky. Fer this, he would have t' aim much lower. He concentrated on th' mud an' moss whilst holdin' a vision o' a great big croc in 'is mind. He thought about baskin' in th' sun or divin' down in th' depths o' cool waters with th' swish o' a mighty tail. Falco held th' image o' th' crocodile an' pulled it in closer 'n' closer till he were starin' directly 'nto a giant yellow reptilian eye. Then, he dove in. It didn't hurt. Th' druid felt his bones growin' an' movin' as his insides shifted. But it didn't hurt 'im. Falco's skin grew scaly an' green. His body stretched from snout t' tail as arms an' legs pulled in. Th' light felt good on 'is back an' he were hungry. Horse smelled good but, no, he knew he couldn't eat 'em. He waddled along th' path t' th' lake. When they came t' th' water, Falco picked up 'is pace in a funny wiggly run. He slid 'nto th' lake an' did a few rolls under th' surface. There were fish. A few snaps an' now there were less. The croc floated there lazily with only 'is eyes an' nostrils above water, jus' enjoyin' 'imself as he were before swishin' 'is tail an' turnin' back t' shore fer Bingle. That were when he saw it. Falco blinked 'is eyelids over nictitating membranes an' sort o' surprised 'imself when he croaked with a bit o' laughter at th' dragon rollin' an' splashin' in th' lake. Well, he certainly can't blame 'im. It's th' first thing he did too! He swam back t' Bingle an' blinked rapidly as if t' ask "what now?"

[/FIELDSET]

[MontageManiac]

July's POTM Player: MonageManiac Game: Strixhaven: Academy for the Gifted System: D&D 5e GM: savoylen Summary of the Post: In this post, it's our first challenge of a race between the 1st year cohorts of Strixhaven. Having faced the trials to get to the school in the first place, we now compete to determine the ranking of the cohorts, and by consequence, how much our tuition will be covered or cost us. It's supposed to be a showing of the cohort's talents (or lack thereof). Our cohort has entered a bit of a scheme where we have purposefully downplayed our abilities so that the side-betting gives us a much better return for our bet. Thus, we came out of the gates swinging, taking an early lead, but struggled a bit on the obvious directions of our first clue for the first challenge. Not wanting to delay or lose our lead anymore than we have, my character takes initiative and decides to move forward: he must count how many red-bound books are along the stairwell of the Biblioplex leading up to the 2nd floor of the building (where 1st years are not allowed), without touching the stairs. We had just gained level 2 prior to the challenge, which meant my wizard was now a Bladesinger, which I thought was perfect timing to really take those acrobatics checks and increased speed for a test-drive. If you were to imagine: "Singing in the Rain" taking place inside an arcane laboratory, with a half-elven Dread-Pirate Roberts wannabe dancing up bannisters, picking up students along the way to create the shortest distance possible, while making it back to the start of the leg in time with the right answer to continue their head-start to the next challenge. Ah yes, and it's not to "Signing in the Rain", it's to Heather Alexander's "March of Cambreadth". I had a great time writing it, and I hope it's at least a somewhat enjoyable read to others. I love the interactions with NPCs I inject, I love thinking through what could be possible within each "round" of the encounter, and how much space I can travel given the map of the library (it's damn huge, I had no idea how actually huge the Biblioplex is), and I love how the dice favoured me in really clutch moments to make the outlandish behaviour seem plausible. Some of the most fun I've had in creating a post in PbP or RPGX, so I hope others can enjoy it too! Link To The Post!   Malleus Livius Silvanus Sighing, Mal draws his dagger, takes a deep breath, and nods to the group, "I’ll try and keep us ahead…" and runs off towards the stairwell. The rules, as written, and most relevant as follows: Mal must count the number of red leather-bound books located ALONG the stairwell between the first and second levels, WITHOUT touching the STAIRS themselves. For the purposes of this task, Mal may not have outside help or the use of arcane powers including familiars to VIEW the books in question, but he may have OUTSIDE help to gain access to the second floor. Twirling the dagger around in his hand, Mal was chasing after the front runners, likely 24 and maybe 1 or whoever else made it in. Mal knew they were at a bit of a disadvantage, likely their initial placing, as they were the furthest away from the stairs. But he had to make up for that disadvantage somehow, and while he was loathe to burn through too many resources too soon, this seemed like as good a time as any. So first, he would make every ounce of use out of this first… performance. Feeling the rhythm of his mother’s people beat within his breast, he listened to his memories of the pipes, the tanned drums, and the screeching wail of drones as the piercing notes sent birds fleeing from the boughs of nearby trees. His mother told him of an ancient tradition of swordsman from their cherished past. While wizardry was much a practice of theory, calculation, and numeration to determine the arcane laws that governed the worlds, it was also a fundamental force of beauty. While he knew he was not original, he hoped Prismari recognized that one can at least be unique. Bladesong activate with bonus action!As the song from his memories coalesced with the use of magic, he could hear the dagger thrum within his hand, and just as he was 15 feet away from his cohort, they too could hear the music growing in volume from their self-chosen roadblock challenger. As if picked up with the tempo, Mal using dash for action to move a total of 80 feet this round which gets Mal from mid-book rack to just around the corner in view of the Western Staircase I believe according to the map.launched forward with a little boost of arcane speed. The rules stated arcane powers could not be used to VIEW the books in question, and said nothing about getting there, or ascending the stairs. "Axes flash, broadsword swing, Shining armor’s piercing ring Horses run with polished shield, Fight those bastards ‘til they yield" Mal’s voice rang out amongst the stacks, the music emitting from his blade unerring, arcanely enchanting, and Dice * Performance check to distract the other contestants from their counting to try and trip them up: 1d20+3 (9)+3 Total = 12 pristine in its sounds. Rushing with his quickened pace, Mal checked towards both stairwells leading up to the second floor, searching for the one thing he hoped, prayed he would find: a Dice * Perception check to see whether they're on the Western side, or Eastern side with greater than 10 being on Western side: 1d20+2 (2)+2 Total = 4 2nd year Prismari student on the Western side of the stairwell. Blasted luck, Mal could only see a 2nd year travelling up the further Eastern staircase. "Midnight mare and blood red roan, Fight to keep this land your own Sound the horn and call the cry, How many of them can 23 make die!" Undeterred and powering through, 80' dash across the grounds towards Eastern stairway, aiming for the 2nd year Prismari studentMal launched himself ahead again, instead of racing up the closest placement to the stairs above, he bolted across the floor, continuing to sing as he did, the euphoria of the arcane power rushing through him intoxicating beyond his own imagining. With a mental command, he bonus action to ask for familiar to "help" in stalling the 2nd yearasked for Hephaestia's aid, and the owl answered, careening from where she had gone earlier to scout, she launched herself up the stairway and flew around the Prismari 2nd year to prevent her from ascending the stairs further. Mal knew that part of the stairwells leading up, from his previous night's venturing, was in fact on the second floor, which 1st years were not allowed to enter. However, if a 2nd year vouched for a 1st, then perhaps allowances could technically be made. With the 2nd year distracted, Mal didn't give up whatever chance he had. "Follow orders as you're told, Make their yellow blood run cold Fight until you die or drop, A force like ours is hard to stop" Spurred on by the music, Mal continued to run, Hephaestia landing on the Prismari Student's shoulder and nudging her to turn around and look down towards the approaching Mal. Making it to the base of the stairs before the 3rd line of his next verse, Mal leapt from the ground and began to Dice * Acrobatics check with advantage thanks to bladesinging: 2d20+4kh1 (5, 9 (keeping 9) )+4 Total = 13 dance up the steps of the stairwell's banister, using the ruts of each vertical bar in the stairwell to find footing, and facing the stacks and stacks of books along the wall, grabbing a Dice * Investigation check to count the books: 1d20+4 (19)+4 Total = 23 count of each red leather-bound book, all while still singing to distract other contestants from their own counts. 1... 2... 3, 4... 5.... 6.... 7... Confident in his count, a little more than his difficult footing moving up along banisters rather than stair steps, he Dice * Persuasion check: 1d20+3 (11)+3 Total = 14 reaches out a hand for the young woman that Heph had halted for him, and upon reaching the bridge point between crossing over into the 2nd floor from the first and grabbing his last count of the red leather-bound books. Whether it was the entrancing singing, or sheer absurdity of the image, the woman reached out and grabbed a hold of Mal's hand and he swiftly pulled her along as he danced along the banister, bending over to prevent herself from falling along the steps. While leaning down, before going into his next verse, Mal quickly says, "I hope to join Prismari, I promise you a metalsmithing work of my best skill if you aid in helping me access the 2nd floor." As Mal waits for the 2nd year female Dice * Maybe advantage on that persuasion check to offer something he knows he can deliver on: 1d20+3 (1)+3 Total = 4 Dice * Advantage on that roll for Heph on Student's shoulder cuddling into her neck softly, COME ON!: 1d20+3 (8)+3 Total = 11 Prismari student's response, he looks up and takes the chance to count the remaining books as they approach the top of the steps on the 2nd floor. There was little time to get a response, and Mal bit his lip and nodded, smiling to the woman, "It's ok, I hope to see you under better circumstances. Be well!" Launching himself from the bannister of the Eastern Stairwell once he arrived on the second floor, Mal bit his lip, unsure how he was going to make it through. He was sort of banking on the kindness of a Prismari student. With little other choice, he grabbed a hold of the shoulder of a woman sitting at the table, she wore the robes of a Silverquill, and hoped perhaps his Dice * Performance check: 1d20+3 (19)+3 Total = 22 song had enough of an effect on the woman. When he turns her around, he blinks his eyes as her platinum hair flows around in slow-motion, and he feels his heart skip a beat. Softly, he says, urges: "Close your mind to stress and pain, Fight till you're no longer sane Let not one damn cur pass by, How many of them can 23 make die..." Placing a hand on her lower back, Mal begins to spin around with her, dancing through the initial room of the 2nd floor, "Apologies, I am First Year Malleus Livius Silvanus, I go by Mal. If you would be so kind as to help me get through this 2nd floor to the other stairwell entrance, I can promise you a metalsmithed object." With a sly smile and a wink, it was all the permission Mal needed, and his returning smile had him leading this platinum-haired beauty in a Again the 80' movement going across the ground to the next chamberdance through the room he entered, out through the double doors to the central reading chamber, and then lifted her up onto the tables, leading her through a complicated double step while his dagger sang in one hand, positioned against her lower back in such a way as to be safe from harming this woman. They danced across the tables, over books, and down chairs, bursting through the double doors into the room which was a mirror of the one they just came through, spotting the top of the stairs where he saw some of his competitors make it through to cross around the other side, surprised to see him dancing into the room and distracted yet again by this absurd performance. Leaning down and kissing the back of the 2nd year's hand, Mal winked at the Silverquill woman and Dice * Acrobatics check: 2d20+4kh1 (13, 19 (keeping 19) )+4 Total = 23 leapt up onto the banister where many others had just come from, and went counter to the flow, traversing down the Western Stairwell, remembering suddenly that he had to Dice * Investigation check: 1d20+4 (19)+4 Total = 23 count the red leather-bound books on this side of the stairwell, pulling his enraptured stare from the woman he'd just danced on the 2nd floor with. "Guard your women and children well, Send these cohorts back to hell We'll teach them the ways of war, They won't come after 23 any more!" It was... amazing. It was as though each book lit up as he glanced through the shelves, continuing his count: 8... 9... 10, 11, 12, it's a series I guess, 13... 14... 15... was that last one about metallurgy and imbuing metals with, oh I'll be back for you! 16... 17... 18... 19... 20... 21, 22... I'll be damned... 23. As he looked through the book shelves, the footwork that Mal had found on the 2nd floor rather than the Eastern Bannister was present as he hopped down the bannister, avoiding other students struggling with the task and offered them a little pat on the rump as he hopped down on light feet and full heart, a touch of platinum if not gold left on his mind. Feet to ground, Hephaestia landed upon his shoulder and nudged his cheek as the race was still continuing. "Use your shield and use your head, Fight 'til every one is dead Raise the flag up to the sky, How many cohorts can 23 make die!" Rushing his continued pace, Mal found himself nearly out of breath as he arrived at the entrance to the bookshelf. Running the final 25 feet to their Prismari assistant, Mal finished singing: "Dawn has broke, the time has come, Move your feet to am arching drum We'll win the war and pay the toll, We'll fight as one in heart and soul" Leaning down, standing exactly as he had before, he speaks to the assistant quietly to avoid other cohorts from hearing, "23 red leather-bound books lining only the stairwell between the first and second floors, done without touching the stairs, and gaining proper permission from a Silverquill 2nd year to be allowed on the 2nd floor." The music slowly fades from Mal's dagger as he takes a breather, his brow dripping with sweat, and he sheaths the blade and smiles like an enthusiastic school boy to his cohort. His friends. "Hope that performance satisfied. I don't know if I have another in me." OOC Malleus Livius Silvanus Male Half-Elf Wizard Actions Move: Standard: Bonus: Rolls Summary: Performance check to distract other participants and make them lose count: 12 Acrobatics going up Bannister instead of steps on Eastern stairs: 13 Investigation check to count the Red Leather-Bound books on Eastern Side: 23 Persuasion check to get Prismari 2nd Year to help Mal get onto 2nd Floor: 14 Persuasion (potentially with advantage) to get Prismari student's help to pass along 2nd floor: 4/11 Performance check to get Silverquill Student to help guide me through 2nd floor: 22 Acrobatics to go down other banister: 23 Investigation on this side of the stairwell: 23 (come on, so many 23s, it was meant to be!)   Sheet Level 1 Wizard medium Half-Elf, neutral good Armor Class 12 (15 w/ Mage Armor) Hit Points 5/8 Speed 30' Hit Dice 1d6 Initiative +2 Condition Normal Inspiration No Proficiency Bonus +2 Str 8 (-1) | Dex 15 (+2) | Con 15 (+2) | Int 18 (+4) | Wis 11 (+0) | Cha 13 (+1) Saving Throws Int +6, Wis +2 Skill Proficiencies Acrobatics +4, Arcana +6, Athletics +1, History +6, Perception +2, Persuasion +3 Passive Perception 12 Passive Investigation 14 Passive Insight 10 Racial Traits You can see in darkness (shades of grey) to up 60’Darkvision, You have advantage on saving throws against being charmed, and magic can’t put you to sleep.Fey Ancestry, You gain proficiency in Perception and Athletics.Skill Versatility Features: Once per day when you finish a short rest, you can choose expended spell slots to recover - up to a combined level of 1, and none of the slots can be 6th level or higher.Arcane Recovery   Spells Spell Level Spell Slots Prepared Spells Cantrips Infinite Green-Flame Blade, Mending, Ray of Frost Level 1 1/2 Find Familiar, Identify, Mage Armor, Shield, Silvery Barbs, Sleep