@Skatan
Post edited to show FLUTE not LUTE.
Also, I’m going back to kindergarten to learn how to read. May be a while before the teacher lets me start writing again, so have fun without me guys!
This seems like a familiar problem. Your dwarf isn’t naked, is he?
Will check is highly likely failed as Nareth has Intelligence 9 (0) and Wisdom 13 (+1)
Nareth gazes strict in Colden's eyes, and looks down after a second. Indeed, the Lorekeeper was right, but the Captain could not fully agree:
" Aye, as ya command, M'Lord Colden, but henceforth I listen to ye orders and only yours. So it’s up to ya whether ya listen to the woman or not. Maybe even a good lass she is, I don't know. I really wants to believe that I’m wrong and have nothing to beware of. Maybe as the years go by, I’ve become paranoid. "
The sounds of Colden's flute distract Nareth from his suspicions. They carry thoughts away from the cold and dangers. He slaps Jirt on the shoulder in a friendly way. The soldier's singing is terrible, but it brings back memories of youth, campaigns and the usual soldier's routine. At the same time, the singing of Garta awakens determination, readiness to die for ideals and love of freedom.
Nareth prodded the march thoughtfully, remaining at the tail of the squad and plunging into his distant thoughts and memories. The weather gets worse and he wraps his cloak around himself tighter, protecting himself from the wind.
@Skatan
Post edited to show FLUTE not LUTE.
Also, I’m going back to kindergarten to learn how to read. May be a while before the teacher lets me start writing again, so have fun without me guys!
This seems like a familiar problem. Your dwarf isn’t naked, is he?
Well, the night is still young and the sight of Garta might make Colden a bit frisky :P But no, he has plenty of clothes on him and this time I intend to keep to that, hehe.. No baby blue thong with secret stashes of bread and butter.
You march for several hours until it is about midnight. The farmhouses become far sparser as you travel until you are on the final stretch of Astorwind’s maintained road.
The wind picks up more fiercely, but there is no rain. Garta leads you to a the side of the road where there is a shallow cave indentation.
“We can light a fire, but do it quickly,” she says briskly. “We are still close enough to your lands that we will not be too out of place if spotted.” She produces a slab of meat for cooking that she must have obtained at the village. “Eat if you wish, I am not hungry.”
With that, she turns over in her bedroll and falls asleep as Kefto and Jirt eagerly reach for the meat and start the fire.
*Lagrord flops down on the floor next to Colden, exhausted and feet on fire*
"Master Cramnoch" *He speaks softly* "I brought a surprise for you"
*With a big grin he produces a bottle of Colden's favorite wine*
I can't figure out how I want to format Lagrord's thoughts. I have asterisks pulling double duty right now, but that gets muddled. What do you guys all think?
"Now that's a sight for sore eyes.. and a dry throat! You're celestial, lad." Colden slaps Lagrord friendly and reaches for the wine. He takes a long, slow sip and savors it gently. He wipes his mouth and beard of with the back of his hand and ends with a long sigh of relief, "Aaaaahhhhh.. "
"Now fire up the barbeque men, I'm famished!" Colden chuckles in his normal manner. Accustomed to the comforts of the castle for many years, these long hours of walking have made him hungrier than he have been for a long time.
While waiting for the meat to cook, Colden takes up his flute and plays a very soft and calm song, an old comforting lullaby. He blows gently into the flute, he doesn't want to disrupt Garta's sleep.
At a pause in Colden's music Sus'Ann wakes up from her rest.
"Thanks for the music ... Master Colden. It's rare to hear something soothing like this. As for our dinner, let me see, what have i here to spice things up a bit."
With this she goes to the fireplace to help with the meal.
Reaching the shelter, Nareth dumps his luggage onto the dry rocky floor of the cave. Backpack, buckler and saddle bags fall heavily and falls lean to the side. Nareth takes out his own tools for making fire and cooking, simultaneously unrolling a sleeping mat on the cave floor. Inside the cavern it became suddenly warm and cozy, especially after the sounds of Colden's flute, the crackles of fire and quiet conversations and jokes of Jirt and Kefto. The captain silently approaches the fire and lays out his utensils for general use and calmly looks at the fire. The blazes of the flame make fancifully grotesque patterns all over his face and Nareth looks even more thoughtful. Fatigue rolls and the pleasant atmosphere of this cave relaxes and soothes the nerves. It is time to rest, perhaps this is the very last minutes before the storm.
The evening passes uneventfully, though the wind gets more fearsome throughout night. It screams through the cave and almost puts out the fire. You alternate watch until the morning, which dawns harsh and grey.
After packing up, you set out again into the hard wind, taking the remnants of the path until it disappears entirely. Garta leads you into scraggly, brittle brush and dead, petrified, leafless trees, both stained dark black by the ever-swirling dust. The black landscape is surreal against the white grey of the overcast, boiling storm overhead. It looks like a charcoal drawing, with the party standing in it like they don’t belong.
After a few hours of trudging through this barren, dead landscape, so different from the lush green of Astorwind, something eventful happens. “Curse these thorns!” complains Jirt, as a large thorn branch breaks off, snagging his beard. “Where in the Valley are you taking us, woman?? Surely there is a better way—!” his voice gets cut off, though, by a suddenly fierce gust of wind densely packed with thick dust. It blinds all of you, so dark it is, and dims the sun, even through the trees. The sudden blast takes all of you by surprise and dust fills your throats and nostrils.
Kefto screams in pain and falls to his knees just before everything goes completely black. You can see nothing in front of you, not even your own fingers. The force of the dust is so powerful that it even blasts your hand out of your face when you try to look at it. It stings and batters you all into the ground, The sound of the roaring dust is so deafening that Kefto’s howling is gone. Either that or he was silenced for some dark, unknown reason.
All of you feel, rather than see or hear, a large deadwood tree fall right next to you, though you’re too disoriented to realize where it fell. Someone else screams out in pain, but it is too dark and noisy to tell who it is.
What do you do?
Welcome to our first encounter! Your decisions at this critical point will affect the outcome of the event. At least one of you is hurt, maybe more. I will PM you if you are injured with more information.
Lagrord’s muffled scream is so drowned out by the screaming wind that not even he can make out the words. The party only knows that someone screamed again.
The force of the wind and dust blows Lagrord back against the tree, knocking him off balance.
Colden screams in pain as something hard hits his shoulder. He falls to the ground and wriggles around in agony for a while. Unaccustomed to sharp pain of this sort it takes a minute to get his bearing. He can hear and sense Lagrord trying to reach and help him but can't see past the veil of dark.
Colden casts his Light cantrip hoping to shed some luminescence and aid his comrades. As soon as that is done, Colden begins to sing as high and strong as he can. Being a lorekeeper bard, singing is not his forte, but his old teachings rush up inside him and his voice is clear and strong. He hopes his singing can rally the troops around him and with his Light to guide them, they should be able to use light and sound as a beacon.
Sus'Ann sees Kefto felling to the ground when a large branch, blown by the wind, smashing into his hip and throwing him to the ground.
Then the tree falls and the impact knockes her from her feet. While the dwarven women stands up without injuries she hears the second screaming but sees nothing. She can make the general direction where Kefto fell however, so she grabs her quarterstaff and goes to check that location.
Taken by surprise, Nareth throws off his luggage onto the ground and with a sharp movement draws his weapon. Old captain takes a protective stance with sword and shield in his left hand.
" Ambush! To arms! " - his cry is sinking in a gust of dust wind. He hears distant cries and turns back, waiting for attack from behind. Slowly Nareth moves in the direction of Colden and the others. His cape's hood covers his nose and mouth and he squints his eyes, protecting himself from dust. But it helps a little, though.
Suddenly, he hears Colden's song and moves in direction of the sound's source, using it as a guide. Nareth tries to stay alert, although it is very difficult. He is backing away, awaiting attack from the rear of the squad.
Lagrord struggles through the spinning darkness and wind until he sees the faint outline of Colden’s cantrip and hears the faint singing. After tripping and gettin bowled over by the wind a few times, he finally reached his master and pulls him away from the tree.
Though Colden’s singing is faint, it serves its intended purpose. Music fills the hearts of his companions and they see and hear a little more clearly.
Sus’Ann makes her way to Kefto. She feels around him and notices he is unconscious. The branch that hit him wasn’t too large. She feels warm and sticky fluid on his head and surmises that the fall must have knocked him senseless.
Nareth stumbles a few times, but his strength and confidence in dangerous situations puts him by Colden’s and Lagrord’s side without too much difficulty. Then Jirt is there, but there is no sign of Garta.
After a few seconds, the black dust clears a little. The wind dies down and you can all see a fair distance, though the dust still swirls around and blocks out parts of your field of view.
Anti-climatically, no creatures attack you or are waiting in ambush. But out of the lightening dust looms a giant black something.
It is too dusty and far to tell what it is, but it is lying unmoving in a newly formed crater in the path right behind you.
“What in the Valley is that?” whispers Jirt, awestruck, through a mouth full of dust.
Colden is mildly injured.
Kefto is mildly injured and unconscious
Garta: unknown.
Water needs: very thirsty from dust exposure.
"Rally to me!" Colden shouts as high as he can. He stumbles and leans on Lagrord, his rock, and regains his balance. He looks around and sees Nareth, Lagrord and jirt. He shouts again "GARTA! SUS'ANN! KEFTO! RALLY TO ME!"
Colden's mind races, trying to quickly flip through all catalogued tomes and books he has ever read. What is he seeing, what is that thing? Colden, tries to identify the black blob while also switching to a warsong of Astorwind; "the march of the titans", a song of glory and gore.
*Lagrord is terrified. He has been the target of agression before, but this whole experience is brand new. No politics, familiar walls, no people. Just the uncaring wilderness, and the unknown. He always considered himself clever and quick thinking. But now, he doesn't know what to do.*
Colden’s cries are more easily heard amidst the less intense wind, though it is broken by chokes and coughs from the dust.
He wracks his brains, but cannot remember a time he has heard or seen anything like this before.
The song breaks from his lips fills his companions with some courage, and Lagrord stops shaking as fiercely, though he is still a little scared.
Garta does not respond to the cry.
The giant black thing continues to lay there unmoving in the swirling dust and high wind, now died down to its former pre-storm intensity. The part of it visible above the crater line is about the size of a large house. Giant black tendrils hang from its side and sway limply in the wind.
Jirt stands there unsure what to do. He looks around for something to smash.
Sus'Ann tries to make Kefto conscious. First by normal means, then, if it's not working, by asking for healing from the Unblighted. She shouts to the others to let them know about the situation.
"Kefto is here with me, he was knocked out by a branch. I don't see Garta anywhere."
Lagrord does not notice anymore movement coming from the giant black thing other than its swaying tendrils. It’s still too dusty to make out any good details much beyond its shape against the backdrop of the grey sky. From this angle, it juts up into the sky like a pyramid. The tendrils are hanging from its apex and attach along one edge until disappear below they crater.
From this angle, it is shaped kind of like this:
you can laugh, @ashafetov I have no problem admitting you are better than me lol. I did this with my phone.
Sus’Ann bandages up Kefto’s head wound and then gives him a good ol’ Unblighted slap across the face.
Kefto comes to immediately, coughing and spitting up dust and dirt.
“What happened?” he asks. At Sus’Ann’s prompting, he says that nothing is hurt. He stands up and insists that nothing is broken, though he has a large bruise on his waist at Sus’Ann’s inspection. His long hair is bloody, but the bandage stemmed the blood flow completely.
He approaches the others and gawks at the unmoving object or pinnacle or whatever and says, dumbly, “Huh?”
"What is that thing?" Colden isn't sure he said that out loud or just thought it to himself, the sight is making him wary.
"Let's not all get closer to that.. thing. We don't know what it is or what it can do. Nareth, you have the most combat experience. Take the lead in preparing us for anything while we assess the situation. We need to find Garta as well. "
Colden thinks to himself, I sure hope she hasn't lead us into kind of trap.. perhaps my faith in her was a mistake? I cannot show despair now, we must not be divided.
"Laggie, you're agile and nimble.. care to take a closer look? But be careful and retread at the first sign of trouble."
“Yeah, good idea, Master Cramnoch,” mumbles Jirt nervously. “Send the orc in. That way if anything happens to him, we will still have time to get away.”
Lagrord approaches the lip of the crater. The wind shifts and clears enough of the dirt and dust that visibility is finally about the same as it was before this giant black thing appeared. The wind whips the tentacles around and then holds a steady course to Lagrord’s right.
Black dust seems to be coming from the giant black thing. The wind carries a steady stream of black dust from its peak and side to the right.
Nothing else happens though. Lagrord isn’t high enough on the crater lip to make out any more details.
Colden feels bad for sending Lagrord forward, but is sure he chose wisely. Jirt and Kefto seem to be simpletons and would surely not be able to quickly run back or react if something happened. Nareth has more wit, but he is needed to keep the other two in line..
He throws an angry glance at Jirt, tired of the ever present xenophobia. Out here, away from Astorwind and the common slurs of that primarily human settlement, he feels a stronger urge to speak up against it but knows in his heart these fools won't ever change.
Colden keeps staring at Lagrord, trying his best to project confidence to his young protege mentally. He feels he desperately want to shout questions to Lagrod about what he sees and what to do, but chooses not to. He must trust Lagrord to make the right decisions, whatever may happen.
Comments
Post edited to show FLUTE not LUTE.
Also, I’m going back to kindergarten to learn how to read. May be a while before the teacher lets me start writing again, so have fun without me guys!
This seems like a familiar problem. Your dwarf isn’t naked, is he?
Nareth gazes strict in Colden's eyes, and looks down after a second. Indeed, the Lorekeeper was right, but the Captain could not fully agree:
" Aye, as ya command, M'Lord Colden, but henceforth I listen to ye orders and only yours. So it’s up to ya whether ya listen to the woman or not. Maybe even a good lass she is, I don't know. I really wants to believe that I’m wrong and have nothing to beware of. Maybe as the years go by, I’ve become paranoid. "
The sounds of Colden's flute distract Nareth from his suspicions. They carry thoughts away from the cold and dangers. He slaps Jirt on the shoulder in a friendly way. The soldier's singing is terrible, but it brings back memories of youth, campaigns and the usual soldier's routine. At the same time, the singing of Garta awakens determination, readiness to die for ideals and love of freedom.
Nareth prodded the march thoughtfully, remaining at the tail of the squad and plunging into his distant thoughts and memories. The weather gets worse and he wraps his cloak around himself tighter, protecting himself from the wind.
Well, the night is still young and the sight of Garta might make Colden a bit frisky :P But no, he has plenty of clothes on him and this time I intend to keep to that, hehe.. No baby blue thong with secret stashes of bread and butter.
The wind picks up more fiercely, but there is no rain. Garta leads you to a the side of the road where there is a shallow cave indentation.
“We can light a fire, but do it quickly,” she says briskly. “We are still close enough to your lands that we will not be too out of place if spotted.” She produces a slab of meat for cooking that she must have obtained at the village. “Eat if you wish, I am not hungry.”
With that, she turns over in her bedroll and falls asleep as Kefto and Jirt eagerly reach for the meat and start the fire.
"Master Cramnoch" *He speaks softly* "I brought a surprise for you"
*With a big grin he produces a bottle of Colden's favorite wine*
"Now fire up the barbeque men, I'm famished!" Colden chuckles in his normal manner. Accustomed to the comforts of the castle for many years, these long hours of walking have made him hungrier than he have been for a long time.
While waiting for the meat to cook, Colden takes up his flute and plays a very soft and calm song, an old comforting lullaby. He blows gently into the flute, he doesn't want to disrupt Garta's sleep.
"Thanks for the music ... Master Colden. It's rare to hear something soothing like this. As for our dinner, let me see, what have i here to spice things up a bit."
With this she goes to the fireplace to help with the meal.
After packing up, you set out again into the hard wind, taking the remnants of the path until it disappears entirely. Garta leads you into scraggly, brittle brush and dead, petrified, leafless trees, both stained dark black by the ever-swirling dust. The black landscape is surreal against the white grey of the overcast, boiling storm overhead. It looks like a charcoal drawing, with the party standing in it like they don’t belong.
After a few hours of trudging through this barren, dead landscape, so different from the lush green of Astorwind, something eventful happens. “Curse these thorns!” complains Jirt, as a large thorn branch breaks off, snagging his beard. “Where in the Valley are you taking us, woman?? Surely there is a better way—!” his voice gets cut off, though, by a suddenly fierce gust of wind densely packed with thick dust. It blinds all of you, so dark it is, and dims the sun, even through the trees. The sudden blast takes all of you by surprise and dust fills your throats and nostrils.
Kefto screams in pain and falls to his knees just before everything goes completely black. You can see nothing in front of you, not even your own fingers. The force of the dust is so powerful that it even blasts your hand out of your face when you try to look at it. It stings and batters you all into the ground, The sound of the roaring dust is so deafening that Kefto’s howling is gone. Either that or he was silenced for some dark, unknown reason.
All of you feel, rather than see or hear, a large deadwood tree fall right next to you, though you’re too disoriented to realize where it fell. Someone else screams out in pain, but it is too dark and noisy to tell who it is.
What do you do?
*Lagrord struggles to be heard over the storm and rises to protect Colden*
The force of the wind and dust blows Lagrord back against the tree, knocking him off balance.
Colden casts his Light cantrip hoping to shed some luminescence and aid his comrades. As soon as that is done, Colden begins to sing as high and strong as he can. Being a lorekeeper bard, singing is not his forte, but his old teachings rush up inside him and his voice is clear and strong. He hopes his singing can rally the troops around him and with his Light to guide them, they should be able to use light and sound as a beacon.
Then the tree falls and the impact knockes her from her feet. While the dwarven women stands up without injuries she hears the second screaming but sees nothing. She can make the general direction where Kefto fell however, so she grabs her quarterstaff and goes to check that location.
" Ambush! To arms! " - his cry is sinking in a gust of dust wind. He hears distant cries and turns back, waiting for attack from behind. Slowly Nareth moves in the direction of Colden and the others. His cape's hood covers his nose and mouth and he squints his eyes, protecting himself from dust. But it helps a little, though.
Suddenly, he hears Colden's song and moves in direction of the sound's source, using it as a guide. Nareth tries to stay alert, although it is very difficult. He is backing away, awaiting attack from the rear of the squad.
Though Colden’s singing is faint, it serves its intended purpose. Music fills the hearts of his companions and they see and hear a little more clearly.
Sus’Ann makes her way to Kefto. She feels around him and notices he is unconscious. The branch that hit him wasn’t too large. She feels warm and sticky fluid on his head and surmises that the fall must have knocked him senseless.
Nareth stumbles a few times, but his strength and confidence in dangerous situations puts him by Colden’s and Lagrord’s side without too much difficulty. Then Jirt is there, but there is no sign of Garta.
Anti-climatically, no creatures attack you or are waiting in ambush. But out of the lightening dust looms a giant black something.
It is too dusty and far to tell what it is, but it is lying unmoving in a newly formed crater in the path right behind you.
“What in the Valley is that?” whispers Jirt, awestruck, through a mouth full of dust.
Kefto is mildly injured and unconscious
Garta: unknown.
Water needs: very thirsty from dust exposure.
Colden's mind races, trying to quickly flip through all catalogued tomes and books he has ever read. What is he seeing, what is that thing? Colden, tries to identify the black blob while also switching to a warsong of Astorwind; "the march of the titans", a song of glory and gore.
He wracks his brains, but cannot remember a time he has heard or seen anything like this before.
The song breaks from his lips fills his companions with some courage, and Lagrord stops shaking as fiercely, though he is still a little scared.
Garta does not respond to the cry.
The giant black thing continues to lay there unmoving in the swirling dust and high wind, now died down to its former pre-storm intensity. The part of it visible above the crater line is about the size of a large house. Giant black tendrils hang from its side and sway limply in the wind.
Jirt stands there unsure what to do. He looks around for something to smash.
*Largrord watches for any sign of movement from the large...thing*
"Kefto is here with me, he was knocked out by a branch. I don't see Garta anywhere."
From this angle, it is shaped kind of like this:
Kefto comes to immediately, coughing and spitting up dust and dirt.
“What happened?” he asks. At Sus’Ann’s prompting, he says that nothing is hurt. He stands up and insists that nothing is broken, though he has a large bruise on his waist at Sus’Ann’s inspection. His long hair is bloody, but the bandage stemmed the blood flow completely.
He approaches the others and gawks at the unmoving object or pinnacle or whatever and says, dumbly, “Huh?”
"Let's not all get closer to that.. thing. We don't know what it is or what it can do. Nareth, you have the most combat experience. Take the lead in preparing us for anything while we assess the situation. We need to find Garta as well. "
Colden thinks to himself, I sure hope she hasn't lead us into kind of trap.. perhaps my faith in her was a mistake? I cannot show despair now, we must not be divided.
"Laggie, you're agile and nimble.. care to take a closer look? But be careful and retread at the first sign of trouble."
*Lagrord slowly and carefully makes his way closer to the...thing. He can't bring himself to get closer than couple hundred feet*
Sigh, did the others have to be present? I can't exaclt say, "No master, I'd rather not." in front of others. I'm just a "slave" to them.
Lagrord approaches the lip of the crater. The wind shifts and clears enough of the dirt and dust that visibility is finally about the same as it was before this giant black thing appeared. The wind whips the tentacles around and then holds a steady course to Lagrord’s right.
Black dust seems to be coming from the giant black thing. The wind carries a steady stream of black dust from its peak and side to the right.
Nothing else happens though. Lagrord isn’t high enough on the crater lip to make out any more details.
He throws an angry glance at Jirt, tired of the ever present xenophobia. Out here, away from Astorwind and the common slurs of that primarily human settlement, he feels a stronger urge to speak up against it but knows in his heart these fools won't ever change.
Colden keeps staring at Lagrord, trying his best to project confidence to his young protege mentally. He feels he desperately want to shout questions to Lagrod about what he sees and what to do, but chooses not to. He must trust Lagrord to make the right decisions, whatever may happen.