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  1. That's fine too. It should be mentioned that my posted questions shouldn't be the only ones either. My initial ones was just a launching point. Some of which will lead to easy answers (see: Yopine not caring about the cloaking ritual) and others may lead to scenes. Varen mentioned to me that the recap would be to include everyone but we knew that I couldn't do that without input from everyone else. Otherwise, I would puppeting other PCs and while that might be humorous, it's not ideal. You guys have no idea how often Roland practices his Riverdancing routine.
  2. Yeah... I could have done with a less pressing fast forward and the implications of another person just randomly down here wandering around for the past day. It's such a linear tomb so far that the implications really broke the nuance for me. Hopefully we can find a nice happy compromised resolution, otherwise, it feels like the serendipitous nature of it is just cheap.
  3. Belfyr - Half-Elf Ranger AC: 15 | HP: 20/20 | HD: 3/3d10 | Initiative: +3 | Gathered Swarm | Favored Foe | Spell Slots: 1st 3/3 2nd -/- | DM Inspiration: 1/1 With his breath finally caught, the half-elf was free to sneer and grimace at the man standing before them. Belfyr did not appreciate being indebted to yet another person, but he was finding that the last three days had been nothing but such events. Fighting it only seemed to make it happen more frequent. He opened his mouth to protest and perhaps force more details from this man named Rantle, but Iymbryl beat him to it. And, as the words fell forth from the guardman's mouth, Belfyr acknowledged that they came with an adequate amount of annoyance. He also committed to the same level of dalliances as the half-elf would have likely promised. Belfyr shrugged his pack further up his shoulder, sure they were moments away from being on the move again. Anne's laughter broke the pane of decorum and left Belfyr tilted. He hadn't quite the response for it, instead offering her a concerned look and then almost instantly pretending he didn't notice it. It wasn't very effective and his distraction caused him to miss the first half of Bronn's reply. But again, the tone was what matched his own thoughts and that was the important part. Rantle's deflection of Bronn's train of thought was all Belfyr needed to know. The half-elf snorted. "It's been a pleasure." He said snidely before following the man's gesture toward the barracks with his whole body, spinning about on his heels. Mechanics Main Hand: Quarterstaff Off Hand: Empty Action: Bonus Action: Your bonus action goes here. Move: Not moving Manipulate: Your one free object interaction goes here. Bookkeeping Full Statblock Half-Elf Ranger (Swarmkeeper) 3 NG AC 15 HP 20 Speed 30 ftft Str 14 (2) Dex 16 (3) Con 10 (0) Wis 14 (2) Int 10 (0) Cha 12 (1) Attacks Longbow Quarterstaff Half-Elf Features: Darkvision Fey Ancestry: Adv on saving throws vs charmed, Magic can’t put you to sleep. Skill Versatility: Persuasion, Survival Ranger Features Favored Foe: Tasha's pg 57 Natural Explorer: Fighting Style: Defense +1 to AC when worn Spellcasting Ranger Archetype: Swarmkeeper Gathered Swarm Swarmkeeper Magic: bonus Mage Hand, Faerie Fire Primeval Awareness: PHB Equipment Assets: 84 gp Carried/Worn Total for Pack o Longbow o Quiver w/20 arrows o Common Clothes o Studded Leather o Quarterstaff o Herbalism Kit o Mess Kit o Cooking Utensils Spell Casting Spell Save DC: 10 Spell Attack Mod: +2 Spells Known: Spell Slots: 1st 3/3 2nd 0/0 Cantrips Mage Hand 1st Level Faerie Fire Cure Wounds Goodberry Hunter's Mark 2nd Level
  4. I believe the next conversation that's about to be had by players and/or GMs is... "What are some thing you specifically do over the next few days while you travel?" I'm going to ask it on the GM's behalf because I have a few minutes before a work meeting and because I can. The answers will influence my next post too, so I'd like to make sure I don't enact some activity upon a character without their permission. I know that there has been some discussions about 'important' things, but I don't want to ignore the minor and sub-minor stuff either. The fill-in-the-blank stuff, perhaps for the bigger things. Instead of just pushing out this prompt into the void, I think I'll try to ask some questions that might lead me to some of my own answers. These are not meant to be leading questions, because the answers can very easily be 'NO'. But I'm trying to look at the group through the eyes of what Wyck might be looking for in the nuance. What musical instruments do we know Aly has with her, does she use any of them while we're traveling? Does she perform in any capacity that the others would get to see? Does Rillik answer Wyck's question? It sounded rhetorical (perhaps with a dash of 'on-purpose') but it wasn't really... Would she return with an answer in the next few days? Is anyone pressing Wyck to partake -or sneak a peak- at the cloaking ritual? If told it's not interesting or not showy, would that make it more enticing or less? Wyck is curious about Torben and Ragz and their ages. Would they divulge questions about personal stuff even if it meant repeating them (as they likely mentioned a lot of this stuff already)? If so, I can ask more direct questions and they can pick and choose which ones to answer. But the tension has changed slightly, and it's not obvious if they'd be open to any at all. What is Yopine's default activity to 'keep busy' while they travel? After a few days, does Myst's proclivities' become more obvious or is Rillik pretty good at hiding them? Does Yontu do mostly dog things? What's the starkest difference between D'Artegenon's marching leadership and Roland's? Something that would be noticeable almost immediately (or maybe in the first few days).
  5. EpicTable is a free map app we used during those dark age years of '20-'21. It has some roller capabilities too, but I don't think that's necessary for PbP. We basically used the app for the map and rolls (for our VTT) and then Discord or just phones-on-speaker for the Voice part of it.
  6. We are one of the few houses with a basement in our neighborhood and we have an arrangement with the neighbor couple with a toddler that they are to be at our house, no questions or favors. One night last year we texted back and forth with them super late at night and they were like "but she's asleep" and we were like "she'll go back to sleep too. Get over here." One ripped through about 3/4 of a mile away.
  7. Armando Railwalker Gnomish Warlock AC: 13 (leathers) | HP: 9/9 | Initiative: +2 | Passive Perception: 11 Spell Slots: 1st 1/1 | Spell Attack: +4 | Spell DC: 12 DM Inspiration: 0/1 Being outside again seemed to remove a lead weight from Armando's shoulders. The crisp, fresh air was enough to sing a ballad to if one had one in mind. There was also less of a threat of giant insects, mangy wolves, and corpse-eating horrors out here. It was just the woods where regular insects lived, wolves hid from fires, and there was no such thing as corpse-eating horrors. Back at camp, Armando got wandering feet. He inspected the corners and the exterior walls without much hurry to his step. The curiosity seemed to spring forth from some untapped well, long after they'd left the place that rightly called for it. As if the gnome was hours behind in his adventuring spirit. He returned the warmth and light of the interior and found his belongings tossed along one wall where he'd left them. He hadn't much to add to them just yet, but he did have a few things that suggested more thorough a look. He drew the mask down off his ears, where he'd used the cap of his head as a proper holder for the item, and rolled it around in his hands. The mask was light and thin. The leather strap that kept tight to one's head didn't look beaten too badly nor stretched out. When Allera came to call on it, Armando handed them over right away. "They may fit ya, Madame. But I wouldn't hide that face a'yours from nobody, nevers." He smiled a weak, apologetic smile. Like a puppy that has chewed away a treat too quickly. Mechanics Main Hand: Empty Off Hand: Empty Action: Bonus Action: Move: Manipulate:
  8. Armando Railwalker Gnomish Warlock AC: 13 (leathers) | HP: 9/9 | Initiative: +2 | Passive Perception: 11 Spell Slots: 1st 1/1 | Spell Attack: +4 | Spell DC: 12 DM Inspiration: 0/1 Bug removal did not sound enticing, and instead the gnome kept himself busy by moving about with the lantern in hand. Often times, he would move to another location thinking it would give better light, but in truth he was better off choosing one position and remaining there. Deep down the gnome knew this to be true, but it would have given him less excuse to avoid the clean-up after the run-in with the insects. Now he stood on the edge of the hole with the lantern wavering over it. The distance alone made the suggested task look impossible, but the added threat of more spiders or more acid-laden beetles only punctuated things. "Why nots we just pick another one? We find whatsa you're after there instead." Mechanics Main Hand: Empty Off Hand: Empty Action: Casting Eldritch Blast at the Spider Bonus Action: Move: Manipulate:
  9. Quim He'd just pilfered a new blade from the pile a few minutes ago, but with the dark dwarf leading the way, Quim left the blade in its sheathe. His crossbow was serviceable enough, and he was afraid that something would poke it's ugly head out of one of the slits high up. As they pushed inside the doorway and on this side of the tower's walls, he thought to swap them again. However, he didn't have the time. They were already faced with a new challenge. Quim moves along the outer wall toward the pile of rotten debris. The skum look to only have tridents, but his fear that they carry something of range leads him to find some kind of cover. As he does this, his fingers secure the bolt in place. Raised up, his angle taking into account the higher position of the skum, he fired. Worg The worg's nose twitched. This place was a slush of smells, both good and putrid. With all of the people in front of her and a girl tied behind him, she felt a little tightly wound. It was the shout of Nancy that broke the allure of the smells and focused the worg's vision to go to the center where two more man-beasts awaited. She growled. Show this Quim is moving to Q5 (or Q4 if he can't stand there). Firing crossbow at rightmost Skum. Worg is not moving.
  10. Maybe I should also point out that all of the non-verbalized commentary about Wyck seeing/knowing some of this is coming isn't to diminish Rillik's feelings, it's to explain why he's not surprised by it. He clearly still responds to it as if it's the first time (or at least, I was trying to convey that).
  11. And minis. You have to include unique minis. - Every board game on KS, ever.
  12. Wyckmere Mirth The chosen place for his ritual was where D'Artegenon had done his own meditation. Wyck could tell why he'd chosen it. The clearing was naturally flat and most of the plant life gave some wide enough berth to this place that one could sit without feeling touched by brambles and branches. The obvious source of this patch of open ground was the duskfire bush that sat on the eastern arc. The duskfire bush spent most of its day being a mundane, brown-and-orange leafed bush with no real fruit, nut, nor sap worth foraging. The roots and wood are not used in carpentry nor alchemy, and the leaves are bitter enough that only certain insects find them tasty. They could grow quite massive but most never really topped above six feet in height before the fickle nature of it splits the trunk and it perishes. Their name derived from what happened to the bush during the magical hours as the sun dipped over the horizon. The leaves, concerned that the night air is their impending death, turn a deep purple-red and sap the heat from the air around it. The bigger the bush, the more pronounced the convection. A man standing next a large duskfire bush can feel the transfer of heat and fend it off with a layer of cloth or leather. Something smaller, like a bird or a sapling, simply succumb to it by losing their own heat in the event. A clearing near one side of a duskfire bush tells an informed person that the bush was here first and simply killed off anything beside it. Wyck was only a few moments into his preparation when Rillik joined him. This meant he had been able to get his sleeves pushed to his elbows and his satchel tossed on the ground. He turned to look at her when she started, having noticed her approach before but not exactly sure who was meant to begin a conversation or what could possibly be the topic. As she spoke, he nodded silently, giving her the clear signs he was listening. Eye contact too, when it called for it. Like a practiced routine one might enact to ensure there's no need for a doubling back in the conversation. What Rillik was doing was what Wyck had learned to be known as a confession. It was the secondary risk when he or D'Artegenon ever laid out their task to their marks. First it was the denial or non-belief. Then, normally later and after they had time to digest the information, came the confession. People baring themselves to them as some kind of apology or last-ditch effort to get out from beneath the markings. Of course, their motives were their own and Wyck rarely judged them for any of the numerous tactics to avoid what was coming. It was instinctual, he knew. He also knew that the event awaiting them was as inevitable as the sun rising. Or, at the very least, he had no authority to change it so telling him was no better or worst than writing it down and throwing the parchment into the sea. He smiled at her last words, a request he'd heard and expected too. No matter the platitude he was getting ready to provide, there was something inherently nice about being asked, even with the included slight back-handedness that was becoming far too common these past few conversations on the topic of his own skills. A topic he hadn't recalled initiating himself either time. For a brief moment he was something more than he truly was, at least in the eyes of one person and right this moment. Sometimes they sought useful wisdom, other times they wished for some insight into what lie beyond this moment, and other times they simply requested a favor to be done after they were gone. Wyck rarely provided anything that felt satisfactory, and that made him annoyed at himself. So too did the fact that most of their marks always saw the worst possible outcome as what was to happen, regardless of how often they ensured them that Jergal was not just a reaper coming for the season's harvest. But he knew that too was inevitable. There had been build-up to her question, like a slathering of butter on the bottom of the pan before throwing in the meat. An explanation for D'Artegenon's choice that she hadn't realized Wyck didn't need. There was no justification required. He nodded toward the patch of earth and made his way over to it and into a seated position. Almost instantly, he felt as though it was too dramatic or ominous an act. As if he was preparing her for some deep and meaningful piece of advice. In truth, his feet hurt and he truly needed to get the protection rites started soon. This just got him closer to starting them. He knew this first time by himself would likely take twice as long to get it right. "If you think your leadership picked you to come find us, you can choose to believe it was because of something you're good at." His hands mindlessly touched his sleeves again, pushing them beyond his elbow to free his forearms for movement. His bracers dangled at his wrists but were tightly fit to ensure they didn't slide more than half an inch whenever he moved his arms. "D'Artegenon didn't name you hoping you'd fail either." "One of the tricks to figuring out who a Mark is, is figuring out what noisy things are just noise. We all have our stuff in our lives, but that doesn't mean it's not just ours to see to their end. The Gods aren't writing a ballad from beginning to end with our lives. They are passing through when the song strikes them in some way. You wanna help everyone here? Keep an eye out for the parts that aren't just noise." Wyck shook his head, clearly realizing he'd butchered some metaphorical masterpiece. He thought for a second, which made his brow wrinkle up. "Oh, here you go. I watched a lordling get on a boat lined with his allies and head for open waters chased by all of his enemies. He thought we were there to see his death, or in his wishes, his victory. We watched him, sure, but he wasn't who we were there to Witness. We were there for the house servant he left behind. Her freedom, or as D'Artegenon suspects, the freedom for her children was what Jergal was interested in Witnessing. I know none of that happens unless that lordling casts off that dock, but I think the point is still there." Wyck stopped again and an impish smile crept across his face. "I have no idea what happened to him and his boat." Then he gave a lazy shrug, releasing him of any guilt that might come from such a realization. "Start with yourself, I guess. What keeps you here and is it just noise or is it something else?"
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