spyrosbaldr

Posting Format   AMARILIS PALMARI ○ Chaotic Good Tiefling Archfey Warlock ● AC HP Spell Slots Archfey FeaturesFey Presence Spell Attack Spell Save Conditions 11 25/25 ○ ○ +6 DC 14 Current There goes Amarilis, narrating again. "Hello there!" she exclaimed. Oooh that is a lovely color for that dress, she thought. OOC Any OOC content. Notes Notes gathered during the course of play.  

XP & Loot Tracking Level 2 Eldritch Invocations Eldritch SightYou can cast detect magic at will, without expending a spell slot. Eldritch MindYou have advantage on Constitution saving throws that you make to maintain your concentration on a spell. Spells Charm person HP 8 (Max 17) Level 3 Pact Boon Pact of the ChainYou learn the find familiar spell and can cast it as a ritual. The spell doesn't count against your number of spells known. When you cast the spell, you can choose one of the normal forms for your familiar or one of the following special forms: imp, pseudodragon, quasit, or sprite. Additionally, when you take the Attack action, you can forgo one of your own attacks to allow your familiar to make one attack with its reaction. Expanded Spells Calm emotions Phantasmal force Spells Calm Emotions (removing charm person) Phantasmal force (removing faerie fire) HP 2 (Max 19) Level 4 Feat Fey Touched- Increase your Charisma score by 1, to a maximum of 20. (18) - You learn the misty step spell and one 1st-level spell of your choice (hex). The 1st-level spell must be from the divination or enchantment schools of magic. You can cast either of these spells without expending a spell slot. Once you cast either of these spells in this way, you can't cast that spell in this way again until you finish a long rest. You can also cast these spells using spell slots you have of the appropriate level. The spells' spellcasting ability is the ability increased by this feat. Spells Hold person HP 6 (Max 25) Fortune  Whispers of the Dead 3rd-level Phantom feature Echoes of those who have died cling to you. Whenever you finish a short or long rest, you can choose one skill or tool proficiency that you lack and gain it, as a ghostly presence shares its knowledge with you. You lose this proficiency when you use this feature to choose a different proficiency that you lack. Level 5 Eldritch Invocation One With ShadowsWhen you are in an area of dim light or darkness, you can use your action to become invisible until you move or take an action or a reaction. Expanded Spells Blink Plant growth Spells Dispel magic Counterspell (removing hold person) HP 6 (Max 31) Level 6 Feature Misty EscapeStarting at 6th level, you can vanish in a puff of mist in response to harm. When you take damage, you can use your reaction to turn invisible and teleport up to 60 ft to an unoccupied space you can see. You remain invisible until the start of your next turn or until you attack or cast a spell. Once you use this feature, you can't use it again until you finish a short or long rest. Spells Hypnotic Pattern HP 9 (Max 40) Level 7 Eldritch Invocation Trickster's EscapeYou can cast freedom of movement once on yourself without expending a spell slot. You regain the ability to do so when you finish a long rest. Expanded Spells Dominate beast Greater invisibility Spells Charm monster HP 9 (Max 49) Level 8 Feat Observant- Increase your Wisdom score by 1, to a maximum of 20. (14) - If you can see a creature's mouth while it is speaking a language you understand, you can interpret what it's saying by reading its lips. - You have a +5 bonus to your passive Wisdom (Perception) (17) and passive Intelligence (Investigation) (17) scores. Spells Greater invisibility HP 6 (Max 55)  

Vignette "We're almost there, keep your eyes closed - hey! I see you trying to peek!" Amarilis walked behind Adelbert with her hands covering the elf's face, giggling and grinning. She had found a spot with the most amazing view of Gloralion - from a low enough branch to climb on, but high enough on the tree to see over the rooftops straight to the fountain at the center of the city. This was a game for the two of them, usually reserved for pranks and jests and japery - Adelbert had a habit of showing Amarilis rude drawings which she countered with crude gestures. This was a first for both of them, something wholesome and tender and sweet in the curiosity of their adolescence. "Can you fault me for trying?" Bert offered; Amarilis swore she heard the smirk on his face under her hands. "Sure can. You know the rules - no peeking 'til we get there. Besides, it's only a few more steps." Just outside the city, the pair arrived at the tree. Amarilis released Bert and tapped his shoulder twice - the signal to open his eyes. As she did, she made a face, pulling down her eyelids and sticking out her tongue. Bert recoiled in mock disgust for a moment, and the two of them shared a laugh. She pointed out the branch, and the two of them climbed. "You obviously didn't bring me out here just to make faces. What's up here?" "Shush, you'll see - just a bit further." They reached the branch, and as expected, the view captivated Bert. He'd seen his home for decades, but only from the ground - up here, he could see the reflection of the sun on the gold of the fountain in the streets, see the throngs of people walking carefree. He turned to Amarilis, about to remark on the sight of the city... and that's when he noticed her pupils. The nubs of horns about to sprout from her forehead. "What's wrong, Bert? Is something in my teeth?" she asked nervously, her mouth filled with sharp, carnivorous teeth that she definitely didn't have on the walk to here. Bert fell from the tree.  

AMARILIS PALMARI Faun to be Around D&D Beyond Sheet (8th Level)   Race Tiefling (Variant) Class Warlock Age 28 Pronouns She/Hers Height 5'11 Weight 142 Hair Mahogony Eyes Jade Background Native of Gloralion Alignment Chaotic Good "If you thought that prank was good, this next one's a real doozy."   Appearance Surely you've seen her - the lemon-yellow tiefling? Horns decorated like a faun's? Laugh's loud as a hag but half as shrill? That's Amarilis. Her elven-made robes are vibrant and textured splashes of greens, yellows, and browns. As a tiefling, she rarely travels alone - whether in the company of friends or being "escorted" into or out of places for her heritage. Oddly, she seems the most uncomfortable around elves. Amarilis's traveling gear is full of pockets, hidden storage spaces, and usually locked (magically or otherwise). She doesn't talk about her past very much, but when most people don't ask questions, it's easy to leave out the details. Personality Traits Trait 1: Okay, so I was privy to knowledge and experiences few had. But I am just another person like you. Trait 2: I don't rush. What is time? It's an abstract concept, meaningless to me. Ideals Ideal 1: Protection. Safety and security are what I strive to attain for myself and others. (Good) Ideal 2: Secrecy. Staying hidden is staying safe. (Any) Flaws Flaw 1: I get lost in art and song to the detriment of what I should be doing. Flaw 2: Having been in the Summervale, I can't be happy living anywhere else. I just want to go back. Bonds Bond: My time in Gloralion taught me that magic infuses everything. I need to learn more about magic. Background Biography Place of Birth: Summervale Home: Wherever the road leads next Parents: Unknown father (assumed Lord of Lust), Lobelia Cirana (mother, alive) Siblings: None Current Love: None, but looking Lost Love: None that she truly cared for, but there remain several Gloralion elhil of a variety of genders that caught her attention... Children: None Current Age: 36 Best Friend: <insert party member here> Worst Enemy: The Lords of Sin, with special respect to the Lord of Lust Greatest Regret: Not leaving the Summervale prior to her adolescence, for that is when her tiefling heritage reared its head. Backstory   Say what you will about the children of Gloralion - they are spoiled, sheltered, soft, enlightened, fanciful, so on and so forth. At the very least, they are wanted. Kept safe from the horrors in the cities. So too was Amarilis. Though she never knew her father, her mother Lobelia raised her to be observant, witty, and well-spoken - she would not have her only child be without grace or poise in social situations. Despite the studying, the training, and the culture, time was against her. At the age of sixteen, Amarilis sprouted horns and a tail, her pupils becoming as a goat's. Though she had been afraid of this day, Lobelia knew it would come. And as she feared, Gloralion cast her daughter out - ostracized to the Belendale, where Amarilis encountered a messenger from Tanis: a sprite named Pixel. While not herself a believer in destiny, Amarilis learned that Pixel had been sent by some lord or lady from the Feywild for her, to be present at this exact moment. Previous Adventure On a mountain pass, hidden by weather and winding roads, lies what appears to be an abandoned manor house. The party had been tasked to deliver a missive to a mage named Picolai Lesta stationed there, hopefully with a response from him - or at the very least, confirmation that the worst had occurred and whatever experiments he was concocting had brought about his demise. Despite the wind and the chill and the remoteness, the path to the manor itself had been maintained... At the doors leading into the entranceway, they were met by a disembodied voice - a helpful, somewhat ignorant, person named Sam. Sam knew the mage; however, they hadn't spoken in some time - and provided the party respected the experiments and the house, they were allowed inside. The furniture, the foyer, the stairwell - it looked lived in, but not in disarray. Sam, it turned out, was a magical construct in the form of a metallic-and-wooden orb. They were inquisitive and witty, and surprisingly respectful; it was clear that Sam lacked a moral compass, but seemed to consider ethics an important area of study. This became an important topic of conversation as the party passed the greenhouse behind the manor, where Sam had used the bodies of two trespassers as fertilizer for the plants therein. Lesta, in the end, had been found dead by the party in the manor's basement. He had been making adjustments to a component (without wearing proper protective gear) when a stray arc of arcane energy erupted outward, killing him instantly. The basement had been warded to keep Sam out, nor could Sam scry into it like the rest of the house - upon learning of their creator's death, Sam lamented not being able to assist. A journal, kept in Lesta's drawer in the basement, noted that SAM was an acronym - Sapient Autonomous Machina - and the component was the final piece to a humanoid body for SAM to live in. Unlike other constructs, SAM was not given magical instructions or commands; they were able to think and reason and react on their own. Bards across Farland tell the end of this story differently: some say the party killed SAM and burned down the manor, not letting such a clearly unethical experiment run free; others say they gave the component to SAM and let them choose whether to finish their own body. Proficiency Bonus AC HP Speed Pass. Perception Initiative Darkvision +2 12 9/9 30ft 17 +1 60ft STRENGTH DEXTERITY CONSTITUTION WISDOM INTELLIGENCE CHARISMA -1 (8) +1 (12) +1 (12) +2 (14) +2 (14) +4 (18) -1 STR Save +1 DEX Save +1 CON Save +4 WIS Save +2 INT Save +6 CHA Save -1 Athletics   +1 Acrobatics +1 Sleight +1 Stealth     +2 A. Handling +4 Insight +2 Medicine +2 Perception +2 Survival   +4 Arcana +4 History +2 Investigation +4 Nature +2 Religion   +4 Deception +4 Intimidation +4 Performance +4 Persuasion   Actions Actions Unarmed Strike +1 Spear Eldritch Blast Mage Hand Prestidigitation Detect Magic Vicious Mockery Faerie Fire Sleep Bonus Actions Hex Features   Class Features Otherworldly Patron (Archfey) Pact Magic Expanded Spell List Fey Presence Tools Calligrapher's Supplies Painter's Supplies Languages Common Infernal Elven Old Speech Weapons & Armours Simple Weapons Light armor Feats & Other None Racial & Background Features Darkvision (60ft) Hellish Resistance Devil's Tongue Beauty in the Blood Equipment Weapons +1 Spear (1000 gp) Armor Leather Armor (5 gp) Magic Items Bell Branch (3500 gp) Candle of the Deep (4 gp) Charlatan's Die (115 gp) Cloak of Billowing (250 gp) Dust of Disappearance x4 (1600 gp) Hat of Vermin (450 gp) Wand of Secrets (1500 gp) Other Equipment Scholar's Pack Calligrapher's Supplies Painter's Supplies Elven clothes, fine Book of elven poetry Elven purse Treasure 136 gp 15 sp  

The First Year The five kingdoms sent explorers to every edge of the Worldstorm on land and sea. Those that returned reported a swirling, impassable wall of wind and lighting over a mile high, and so dense with dirt and debris that vision stopped soon after the storm’s edge. Others reported enormous, winged beasts darting in and out of the tops of the storm clouds. After a decade of search and scholarly debate, the leaders of the new world came to a grim conclusion: the Godswar had destroyed the entire world, save for a broken, scorched, drowned continent shielded from oblivion by the dying oath of the last god. With a sea now separating the Five Kingdoms and a demigod unwilling to use his new powers to force compliance, the union of nations quickly broke apart. The capital city of Ani remains fiercely loyal to their Godking, safe within their unassailable walls. The South was split in two with the rocky, forested East returning to ancient royal bloodlines, and the fertile West breaking into a dozen fiefdoms loosely united under an elected council. The largest and most northern of the five kingdoms fell into decades of anarchy as famine and disease ran rampant. Out of this chaos, a priesthood arose whose acolytes preached mortal solidarity; foolish, petty gods destroyed this world, so man should reject all things godly. This order sent inquisitors to every corner of their broken nation, bringing relief in the form of food, supplies, and labor. Their priests carried gems mined from deep within the dwarven capital of Gal-Hadir that glowed in reaction to the presence of magic. They used these stones to collect and destroy items infused with magic and repurposed enchanted weapons to forge anti-magic baneswords.

Zavan, the God of Aspiration The Dwarves were the first people to be given magic, as they were jealous of the elves and their millennia of life. They became fierce guardians of this new power, which they used to create great feats of architecture and technology. Once their towering dwarven halls could be made no more magnificent, they set about shaping the world. Centuries of dominance made many of the dwarves as selfish and petty as the gods. The elves eventually grew tired of their constant warring and stole the secrets of magic from them, teaching the knowledge to the other races to restore balance. Enraged, the dwarves declared themselves the enemy of all races of people, and the Hundred Years War began. As death and turmoil spread across the land without intervention, humanity grew distant from the gods. The great human city of Ani rapidly expanded as more and more people fled behind the walls of the capital to seek reprieve from constant violence. The city prospered, a shining light in the darkness that threatened to consume all. People began to idolize human creations over the divinity of the gods. When the millionth person was born inside Ani’s sprawling slums, humanity also birthed its first god; a brave and noble human warrior known as Zavan. Now an omnipotent being blessed with the practicality and impatience of a mortal, Zavan immediately set about improving Ani, raising towering walls that carried magically purified water along the tops of its ivory embattlements. He dug a great canal that brought this water into the heart of the city, blessing its inhabitants with good health and bountiful crops. With the capital in order, Zavan set about ending the Hundred Years War and unifying the five kingdoms under his rule. In just over a decade he brought the races and cities under a single banner, forging the most powerful empire the world had ever seen. The speed at which the God of Aspiration worked, combined with the ease at which he wielded his new divinities within his realm, terrified the old gods and goaded them into swift action (swift for immortal beings, at any rate). A pact formed from an unlikely cabal of Siforr, Xunos, Vodon, Vistrix, Voara, and Barros. On the first day of the sixteenth year of Zavan, they attacked at once, intent on killing the God of Aspiration with a single strike. What they had not planned on was the God of Death finally taking a lover. They had certainly not expected how fiercely he would fight to protect him. The titanic conflict that ensued quickly spilled across the entire pantheon as each deity was forced to chose a side. The Great Godswar had begun. It would barely last an hour. The Breaking of the World As the gods battled for control over the mortal realm, they tore the planet asunder. Millions of creatures perished within minutes as divine energies not seen since the creation of the universe were harnessed as sword and shield. In the final moments of the hour-long war, Zavan gave his life defending the five nations. Siforr struck at him again and again, sundering the land with earthquakes and volcanos. To save the city of Ani, Zavan sacrificed a third of Kadar and much of the countryside surrounding the capital city as it sank beneath of the waters of a new inland sea. In his dying moments, Zavan flooded the Bridge and linked with every citizen of his empire, desperately searching for an heir. He found Jakub Kladivo, a simple farmer from southern Kadar. Zavan willed his waning divinity into his arms, armor, and equipment and then bestowed these artifacts to Jakub, anointing him as the Godking of the Five Kingdoms. As the storm that had engulfed the entire world bore down on the Five Kingdoms, Zavan gathered the raging magical forces and used them to form a permanent barrier, shielding the ravaged nations from total annihilation. The staggered survivors set about extinguishing fires, clearing sodden fields and rebuilding what they could of their former lives.

The Birth of Khalgun Siforr was the first of the children to claim his domain. His ambition shone white and hot, forcing even Ytar to veil her eyes. He used that distraction to steal a single flame from his mother and gave birth to the Sun. Ogun was enraged by both the petty theft and arrogance of the young god and drew together every spec of dust that cast a shadow. He combined this mass to form the first planet and mocked Siforr from where his light could not reach. Weary of her brother’s conceit, Emitaf wove a net of clouds and lighting around the planet, summoning a year of storms that drowned rock and stone beneath miles of ocean. Ather was delighted by these waters but missed singing along the peaks of his brother’s mountains. He raced along the sea with arms spread wide, parting the water and dredging the seabed so Ogun might once again see the stars. Shaken from his watery slumber, the God of Earth grew his lands ever taller until they towered above ocean once more. Most of the planet remained water, and Ius danced on these oceans, his ivory skin gleaming in the sun’s brilliance. His dancing was nearly as beautiful as himself, and he entranced the gods long enough for him to siphon off a bit of each of their divinity. He used this stolen power to draw an alien body, dense and obscure, far from beyond the sun’s watchful light. Ius choked the skies with clouds, concealing the meteor’s approach, and sent the twisted mass of ore and rock crashing into the planet. The catastrophic impact evaporated the oceans and toppled mountains as the meteor carried straight through the earth, exploding from the opposite side in a raging mass as white and hot as the sun. When this ball cooled, it formed the moon. As the moon settled and storms returned oceans to the earth, Yala brought life to the planet in wild, reckless abundance. Every kind of flower, plant, and tree took root. Every type of fish, whale, and serpent splashed into the sea. Every creature that walked upon and flew above the land now poured over it. Yala saw all this and gave no pause. Instead, the God of Life set about combining what she had made. Owls that were also bears, horses that took flight upon feathered wings, and great dragons who could assume any form and weather any height or depth. The gods paused their bickering as they marveled upon the chaotic wonder Yala wrought. Then they too forged life from this new world. The elves came first, emerging from the roots of the vast Ironwood as their massive canopies captured divinity from the Weave and birthed the first wild elves as their eternal defender. They were born under the light of the moon and were thus claimed by Ius. The God of the Moon was delighted by the elves and danced with them, gifting them divine beauty and long life. The grandsons of Ogun (God of Earth), Kalos (God of Invention) and Rapel (God of Magnetism), sought to replicate this divine birth. They combined magic with their divinities and forged the first dwarves out of rock and stone. The other gods saw these new beings as crude and ugly compared to the elves and chased them back into the mountains of their birth. This rejection made the dwarves bitter towards the other races of mortals and set them on a path for centuries of conflict. When the first tribe of elves stole magic from the dwarves to counter their constant warring, the gods were shocked by the brazen theft. They cursed the elves, drained their skin of pigment and cast them into the blasted desert. Ius fooled the gods, hiding his elves under moonlight and guiding them to the protection of the limestone cliffs they still call home. Other races followed, but none were as prolific as the humans, hyper-evolved from apes through a century of divine meddling. The elves called these creatures “Khalkhi (KAL-key) Ogun,” or “Children of Ogun” as a mockery to their crude birth. Over the millennia this became “Khalgun (KAL-gun),” and the first planet found her name.

The Birth of the Universe The Old Gods fought one another to mutual destruction, obliterating magic and swallowing much of the planet in a permanent Worldstorm. The Five Kingdoms that remain live by an uneasy truce born out of necessity, a peace which is tested when the New Gods begin to arise. Let’s start at the beginning. At first, there was nothing. A moment later, there was everything. In the great cataclysms of creation, the First Four were born: Ytar, God of Fire. Ather, God of Air. Emitaf, God of Water. And Ogun, God of the Earth. For a thousand years, they would dance across the universe, creating all the cosmic beauty and desolation within. As they danced with each other, they birthed more deities. Ytar and Ather had Siforr (God of the Sun), while Ogun and Emitaf brought forth the trickster Ius (God of the Moon). It was under the spell of the Moon that Emitaf and Ather did meet, creating Yala (God of Life) and Mordukai (God of Death). This infidelity shattered their divine House, and sent the First Four into the corners of the universe, as far from each other as they each could manage. It was there they would remain, agreeing that there were to be no more Gods. Mordukai, the God of Death, was more than happy to oblige this decree – but his sister Life would not be so restrained. She danced with Siforr and summoned the sisters Ova (God of Beasts), Radia (God of Will), and Wodea (God of Plants). She danced with the Moon and conjured the brothers Ocarus (God of Dreams), Etos (God of Peace), and Pelios (God of Emotion). Because she was Life, she loved the lives of her children. Because she was their mother, she taught them to love and to dance. Wodea and Ocarus grew trees so tall that their skin turned hard as iron and divinity was trapped within their branches. The trees filtered this power into their roots, creating Xunos (God of the Wild), who in turn brought forth the elves to tend her new garden. Radia was seduced by Etos and Pelios, calling forth Lordros (God of Fate) and Voara (God of Force), respectively. Ova and Ocarus brought forth Vistrix (God of Chaos), Shakti (God of Illusion), and Epona (God of Knowledge). The trickster Moon lay with many of his grandchildren. Voara bore him Rapel (God of Magnetism), while his union with Epona summoned Kalos (God of Invention). The gods of magnetism and invention would later combine their power and forge dwarves from stone and magic. Vistrix was Ius’s favorite, and their millennia-long tryst gave birth to Ceato (God of the Sea), Atuna (God of Magic) and Jodar (God of Luck). Ova was wild, as beasts often are, and the sons of Ius were seduced by her life made flesh. Ova and Etos allowed for Tir (God of Travel), Sah (God of the Astral Plane) and Mivia (God of Time). Ova and Pelios shook the heavens with their love, and called forth seven children: Gaidir (God of Sport), Valhena (God of Strength), Cenos (God of Speed), Udea (God of Vitality), Aurras (God of Sound), Vodon (God of War) and Hilo (God of Flight). Radia and Etos recoiled in horror at the disorder wrought by their siblings’ children and lay together to bring about Barros (God of Order). The families squabbled, as families are wont to do, but the gods maintained a delicate balance by agreeing to return to the First Law: no more gods. And for ten thousand years, there were none.

Table of Contents The Old Gods Known Astral Forms Known Divinities Beasts Dreams Emotions Life Luck Magic Plants Strength Vitality The Wild Will The Old Gods Fire, Air, Water, and Earth... it all began with these four, and from them, thirty-three. Known Astral Forms The Astral PlaneHovering inside a shimmering rift in space. EmotionsFloating naked in a torrent of color. StrengthMuscled, oiled and holding a globe several times their size. TimeStanding on the edge of a clock's hand. WillWearing a crown made of many diamonds. Known Divinities Please note that this page will list what is found in the Worldbook, and will reflect our homebrew edits once they are finalized. Beasts Belonging to: Madrobela Class Features Level Features 1 Beastmaster 2 Locate Animals 3 Animal Messenger 4 Shard of Ova 5 Wildshape (CR 2) 6 Giant Insect 7 Hold Beasts 8 Anti-Creature Shell 9 +1 CON 10 Wildshape (CR 5) 11 Awaken Beasts 12 Insect Plague 13 +1 CHA 14 Greater Wildshape 15 Wildshape (CR 10) 16 Creature Stride 17 +1 CON 18 Animal Shapes 19 +1 CHA 20 Wildshape (CR 15) Beastmaster Always active, permanent. All animals treat the God of Beasts as a trusted friend. Any animal within 120ft of the god will respond to their commands and will rally to defend the god if they are attacked. All animals will perform tasks requested by the god to the best of their abilities. Creatures hostile to the god’s friends will cease hostilities when they are present. This divinity also provides the God of Beasts with the ability to communicate with any animal they can see. Locate Animals 1 Action, V/S, Concentration. The God of Beasts can describe or name a particular kind of beast and learn the direction and distance to the closest creature of that kind within 5 miles, if any are present. Animal Messenger 1 Action, V/S, 30ft range, 24 hours. The God of Beasts can use an animal to deliver a message. The god chooses a Tiny beast they can see within range, such as a squirrel, a blue jay, or a bat. The god specifies a location, which they must have visited, and a recipient who matches a general description, such as "a man or woman dressed in the uniform of the town guard" or "a red-haired dwarf wearing a pointed hat." The god also speaks a message of up to 25 words. The target beast travels toward the specified location for the duration, covering 50 miles per 24 hours for a winged messenger, or 25 miles for other animals. When the messenger arrives, it delivers the god's message to the creature that they described, replicating the sound of the god's voice. The messenger speaks only to a creature matching the description that was given. If the messenger doesn't reach its destination before the divinity ends, the message is lost, and the beast makes its way back to where the god cast this divinity. At Higher Levels: The duration increases to 48 hours at 6th level, 1 week at 9th level, 1 month at 12th level, and 1 year at 15th level. Shard of Ova 1 hour, V/S/M (food that would appeal to the beast called), 1 mile, Instantaneous. By concentrating for 1 hour and laying out food the creature would enjoy, the God of Beasts summons one of the many avatars created by Ova. The shard arrives in the form of an animal of CR 2 or less and is forever bound to the god. At the end of the hour, a shard appears and gains all benefits listed below. The God of Beasts can only have one animal companion at a time. If the shard is ever slain, the magical bond with the god allows them to return it to life. By concentrating for 8 hours and laying out a feast the animal would enjoy, the god calls forth the shard's spirit and uses their divinity to create an astral body of their flesh. By adding a godstone to this ethereal form, the god anchors that spirit and returns the shard to life, consuming the godstone in the process. The god can return a shard to life in this manner even if they do not possess any part of its body. Wildshape 1 Action, S, Self, Special. The God of Beasts can use their action to assume the shape of a beast that they have seen before that are CR 2 or lower. The god can stay in a beast shape for as long as they wish and revert to their normal form at any time as a bonus action. The god automatically reverts if they fall unconscious, drop to 0 hit points, or die. While the god is transformed, The God of Beast’s game statistics are replaced by the statistics of the creature they have chosen, but retain their alignment, personality, and Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma scores. The god also recalls all of their skill and saving throw proficiencies, in addition to gaining those of the creature. If the creature has the same proficiency as the god and the bonus in its stat block is higher than the god’s, use the creature’s bonus instead of theirs. If the creature has any legendary or lair actions, the god can’t use them. If the God of Beasts is wounded while in a beast form and assumes the shape of another creature before taking a short rest, that creature is equally wounded. For example: if the god was fighting as a bear and lost 25 hit points while in bear form, and then turned into a tiger, that tiger would also be down 25 hit points. The god cannot turn into an animal with a hit point maximum that is less than the damage they have received while in beast form. Upon taking a short rest, this damage resets to zero. When the God of Beasts transforms, they assume the beast’s hit points and hit dice. When the god reverts to their normal form, they return to the number of hit points they had before they transformed. However, if they revert as a result of dropping to 0 hit points, any excess damage carries over to their natural form. If the god is reduced to 0 hit points while in a beast form, they cannot assume another beast form until they have taken a short rest. The God of Beasts can cast spells, invoke divinities, and speak as normal, but any action that requires their hands is limited to the capabilities of their beast form. Transforming doesn’t break their concentration on a divinity they have cast or divinity they have enacted, nor does it prevent them from taking actions that are part of a spell or divinity, such as call lightning, that they’ve already cast. The God of Beasts retains the benefit of any features from their class, race, or other source and can use them if the new form is physically capable of doing so. However, they can’t use any of their special senses, such as darkvision, unless their new form also has that sense. The God of Beasts chooses whether their equipment falls to the ground in their space, merges into their new form, or is worn by it. Worn equipment functions as normal, but the DM decides whether it is practical for the new form to wear a piece of equipment, based on the creature’s shape and size. The god’s equipment doesn’t change size or shape to match the new form, and any equipment that the new form can’t wear must either fall to the ground or merge with their new form; such equipment has no effect until the god leaves the form. At Higher Levels: At 8th level the God of Beasts gains the ability to Greater Wildshape, allowing the god to become a Monstrosity. The god can also use all of their special abilities, but not lair or legendary abilities. The challenge rating of creatures the God of Beasts can transform into increases at 10th level (CR 5), 15th level (CR 10) and 20th level (CR 15). Giant Insect 1 Action, V/S/M (a handful of insects), 30ft range, Concentration. The God of Beasts can transform up to ten centipedes, three spiders, five wasps, or one scorpion within range into giant versions of their natural forms. A centipede becomes a giant centipede, a spider becomes a giant spider, a wasp becomes a giant wasp, and a scorpion becomes a giant scorpion. Each creature obeys the god’s verbal commands, and in combat, they act on their turn each round. A creature remains in giant size until the god reverts it to its natural size as a bonus action or until it drops to 0 hit points. Dreams Emotions Life Luck Magic Plants Strength Vitality The Wild Will

Under construction!

Solitude found an old man and his horse wandering methodically slow down a forested road in western Brenus. It had been carried on the warm wind, ushered by all the colors and smells of midsummer blooms despite the calendar marking the start of the autumn tide - middling greens, blushing yellows and oranges, clear blues marked the edges of the road. Although historically uncommon, wild mushrooms also dotted the roadside, their spots and spores almost like eyes that watched the pair move westward. The pair had felt such gazes from the road ever since they left the unnamed and largely unknown tavern that appeared before Mamlemin in the Ironwoods. A strange woman had invited him in for rest, respite, or rejuvenation, some of which he partook in and most of which he was oblivious to. Perhaps it was the frustration with his inability to stop his friend from killing that held him away from such release. Perhaps it was the disappointment that his path required him yet again to be alone. Perhaps it was all in his mind. Yet deeply affected so, in both heart and spirit, Mamlemin whiled away a day or two in awkward recovery amongst strangers before sallying forth. Ahead of the knight and his steed, the azure sky held few clouds, and yet floating off in the distance was a magnificent fortress. It looked sundered from the very ground and thrown into the air; even from miles away, Mamlemin could see dirt and water falling from the edges in small rivers. His eyes were to the skies, but this was not the fortress he sought - curious as it was, the blue and gold banners marked it as Skyhaven, the capital of Brenus. No, Mamlemin and Strawberry had another floating castle in mind - the site of Pelios's murder, Fort Ennui.

Godsfall: New Gods on the Block Prologue: Here Comes Down The Wall   🗺️   Flatrock, Wessle 📅   12:00 PM, 24th Etan 98 YGF, Feastday 🎵   Fertility of the Sea The furthest south one could go marked the Coalspine, the last land divider before one reached the Worldstorm. The Free Desert surrounding the Coalspine divided two disparate clans of orcs - Clan Flatrock to the east, and Clan Deathhammer to the West. On this day, Clan Deathhammer made another raid on a Flatrock village. Whether for resources, domination, or just plain aggression for aggression's sake, none on the field of battle knew. The more agricultural of the two clans, Flatrock, was also losing. Overwhelmingly so - its undertrained ranks fell to the hammers and axes of Deathhammer by the dozens. Fires had overtaken most of the western walls while Flatrock's unarmed defenders fled for their lives. Two young orcs tended to an elder who had fallen under a wall at the breaking point. A third young orc, male and of low birth, charged to stop the wall from crushing his three fellow clanmates. Onok had built walls and fences, mined from the thick chunks of coal from the Coalspine - but never before had he held a collapsing wall.   Onok Flatrock rushed forward, tossing his weapon aside and turning to brace the wall with his back, planting his legs into the soil below as the wall crushed his frame. Every movement sent waves of throbbing pain through his chest, legs, and back. It was exhausting and Onok started to feel sick, with seemingly nothing he could do about it. "Ch'uz k'irci, ch'ah rsah nah veah bisatahn'ho ch'ah csan cseis In Orcish, "Move faster, I know not how long I can hold this."," he said through clenched teeth. He wanted to stop everything he was doing and treat the pain, to make it stop; in these fleeting moments, he realized he's trapped. Put into this place by the call of action and the cries of help as Clan Deathhammer raided upon them once again. Closing his eyes and steadying his breathing, he took a deep breath. And then another. It was his best attempt to regain his composure. His head felt eerily light, everything seeming to spin around him in a blur of motion and his legs could barely continue to stand the weight that lay upon him. On any other day, he probably would've given his life to save his people, but not today. Today was a day of pushing the limits. Today was not a day to die, crushed under this wall like a spider under a boot. The more he thought about not wanting to die, the angrier he became at the predicament. "Ch'uz vun'bicn hah!In Orcish, "Move dammit!"" he cursed to the wall, to his body and to the juveniles and elder under him. From a deep squatting position Onok slowly, and surely on shaky legs, began to stand. His back straightened as he stood, veins bulging across his body with every exertion. The once crushing weight now about as heavy as a felled log. With a last push of effort, Onok heaved the wall into the air long enough for him to escape out from under its reach, sending a dust cloud up as it crashes. Onok huffed air, greeted with stunned looks of awe as he tried his best to not puke. His body felt like it was on fire, his muscles screaming at him, daring him to topple over. "Lciti vah, nah tol ch'at ch'iticev ch'itt'suvrecah,In Orcish, "Steel yourselves, we push these invaders back."" was all Onok said as he grabbed his weapon. The three orcs continued to stare at Onok in silence, mouths agape. Almost entirely forgotten was the battlefield, and the houses on fire, and the screams of terror from their fellow clanmates. Almost. "...YYYYAAAAAA!" cried the elder, scrambling to his feet and urging the younger two to their fallen weapons. "Nah ch'urci tenar ch'at vetihn!In Orcish, "We must save the village!"" They gathered their spears and swords, clanking them together. Behind this group of orcs, a blast of warhorns signaled incoming Deathhammer forces. Onok wiped sweat from his forehead. "<< We must gather others. Let's move. >>" Onok and his group set out to find others, any who would listen and who could carry a weapon. Answering cries for help of those stuck inside their burning homes along the way. "<< If we can form a barricade, a shieldwall at a cutthroat. Their numbers will mean nothing. >>" His heart raced with nervousness, anxious to get his plan underway. Following Onok's directions, the three orcs hurried behind him as he entered the village. Home after home he saw set ablaze by arrows dipped in lit oil. The party of orcs wasted no time smashing down crumpled doors, rescuing the families trapped within. A mother and her only son. An elder, widowed and childless. Three young orclings, barely out of their swaddles, and their parents. One of the chieftain's wives. Each was given the choice to arm themselves or flee. Nearly all fled the village - just the chieftain's wife and the elder took up shield and spear and head to Onok's established shield wall. Onok armed as many people that would follow him with spears, pitchforks, scythes, shields, swords and bows. Gathering enough forces, he told the strongest in their prime to form a shield wall, armed with anything sharp that could be used to cause damage. Behind them were the smaller of the bunch with swords or hand scythes, and behind them were any archers that he had left. Onok set himself just behind the middle of the shield wall, his greataxe hanging on his back and a javelin in each hand. "<< We will fight for our home! Fight for our right to live! Fight for freedom! >>" Onok exclaimed before readying himself for what would come next.     Outside the village, another warhorn blared. The banner of Clan Deathhammer could be seen among rows and rows of armed orcs. Skin painted black with soot and ashes and the blood of the fallen. Their eponymous hammers resting in their hands.   Astride a destrier was the leader of this raid, a large female orc with a headdress constructed out of bones. She towered over every orc on her side of the field and every single fighter in Onok's spear wall. The chorusing roar of boots and flags of the Deathhammer raiders showed in the distance. Onok's band of fighters began fidgeting in their places. "<< Hold your ground, >>" was all the reassurance he gave them, the worried looks they might have had now fade as they nodded in turn and readied themselves. Onok stabbed the javelins into the soil beside him and walked out past the safety of his company. He held himself proudly, fists clenched at his sides as he met the gaze of the invaders' leader. In all respects she was beautiful, a deadly air about her and the way she held command of her troops all roused the beast within him. "<< In other circumstances I wouldn't mind to have taken you as a wife, >>" Onok said with no malice shown in his voice. "<< Your day has been won, you beat farmers and laborers with trained warriors. >>" The orc chieftain removed her headdress as Onok approached. The first, and most immediate, thing to notice about her was the yellow, almost cat-like irises of her eyes. The second was her demeanor. A mirthless, menacing smile - all teeth and tusks. She regarded Onok with the same attitude one might use for a fly or a flea, speaking in Orcish. "<< But no more, no more lives to be slaughtered. What'll it take for you to leave? >>" Onok questioned the leader directly. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils, determined to not break eye contact with the mounted leader. "<< YOU would have me as a wife? If only your spine matched your bravado, roundtusk. >>" She dismounted the warhorse, another Deathhammer orc running up to gather its reins and lead it on. A path to the chieftain cleared immediately between her and Onok. Some of it was in reverence; some of it fear. "<< You want me to leave you with your life, lowblood? Roundtusk? You will stand and fight me alone in Honored Combat. And if I don't break you in under a minute, I'll consider sparing your worthless village. >>" Onok's steady heartbeat began to race in his chest as he faced down the female orc. Her words were like daggers with serrated edges and Onok tried his best to not show his true emotions. Instead he held a blank face as she approached, parting the seas of her men like a leader of true renown. "<< I accept. What are your rules of engagement? Shall we settle this in armor? Fisticuffs? >>" he said, responding back in Orcish once she'd finished, ready to remove his scalemail and weapon from his body. The chieftain of Clan Deathhammer sneered, pounded her chest, and then barked a laugh. The gathered Deathhammer orcs seemed to understand what this meant because they all scrambled. In a matter of seconds, the Deathhammers had a large, open circle painted on the field around Onok and the chieftain. The circle looked to be some fifty feet in circumference. Nothing in between Onok and the chieftain except the thick tension in the air. She unhooked the straps to her hides and bones serving as her armor. Waiting for her response he gave his last remark. "<< Would you give me the honor of your name? >>" The words rolled off his tongue sharply. He felt something within - of which he wasn't sure - nevertheless he vowed to himself that he would win this trial. If not for himself, then for his clan; tired he was of the way the Deathhammer looked down upon them. Seeking now as his time to prove them wrong, if only to spite her words. "<< I am called Razhagal, peasant. No weapons. No armor. No interference. No mercy. >>" Clan Flatrock, behind Onok, looked on with a mixture of hope, despair, and resignation. As brave and as incredible his deeds had been, most of them seemed to have accepted that they were going to die today. "<< Prepare yourself, roundtusk. >>"

And another test!

Testing again

I'll need to bow out, work is burying me between this week and last, not sure when I'll find time for this.  Hope y'all have a fun romp through this dungeon! 🤘

I like where the redesign is headed, though I have some issues the kerning on this current design - particularly between the V and E in Weavers and Y and T in Myth.  A font that allowed their ends to blend into each other seamlessly would help, otherwise them needing some small space would look better with this font.

I like Discord for speed but know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.  Will defer to whatever the table wants 😅

GM Post format below Happy to take any constructive feedback, particularly oriented toward more responsive and fluid reading on mobile devices.  I am not someone who enjoys checking posts on mobile, but I do have players who are - and am wanting to give them as enjoyable an experience on mobile as I get on desktop.   Game Title   Chapter: Subtitle   🗺️   Zone, Nation 📅   x:xx xm, nth Month n year, xday 🎵   Music title First sentence.   Body text.  This format is primarily used in my Godsfall game, where I use Palatino Linotype as a font across all of my posts.  While it is (at the time of this post) not currently a font on Baldr, all PCs have it loaded (iOS does not, Android might; their font-equivalents look fine enough for now).   The table on the right is a 4 row/3 column table, first row is a Header.  The background color of the header cell is the most-prevalent color in the image; the background color of the left-hand 2 columns is a dark color pulled from the image, and the right-hand column is a complimentary color to the left-hand columns also pulled from the image.   The header cell's properties are a 22.5% width, center h-alignment, and middle v-alignment.    The center column's properties are a 14-pixel width, right h-alignment, and middle v-alignment.  It's whole purpose is to provide spacing between the left column's emoji and the right column's text.   The left-hand column's properties are a 95-pixel width, right h-alignment, and a middle v-alignment.  The emoji (map, calendar, music note) save so much more space compared to text (Location, Date, Music) and are hopefully legible on any device.   The right-hand column's are a 375-pixel width, left h-alignment, and a middle v-alignment.  This column names the zone the party is in (and which nation that zone is in), the date and time on the game calendar (if applicable), and background music for this section.  This is still a pain-point for mobile, since most music links I've found that can be opened across an optimum of devices will be on YouTube, and on mobile without a premium account, this will have ads and multi-tasking (listening to the music and posting) is rather difficult.  Soundcloud embeds might have better results.   On the left of this paragraph is another image - either a location or a person, depending on context - aligned to the left (what would have been a float on the old site).  This helps break up a lot of the wall of text and also allowed for dialogue that flows well in a GM post.   Simply copying this post (or quoting and swiping the source!) will provide you with this as a template.   If someone has a better way to translate those pixel-based widths into percentages that maintain this same level of table (so that it looks great across all devices), I'm happy to take the feedback for it.  At the moment, this is the best I've come up with so far - this places the table at the top of a post (beneath the title header) on mobile, and floated far-right on tablet and desktops. Edit: the fieldset at the top prevents the post from scaling correctly on mobile currently, will investigate what can be done to adjust that.

Godsfall: New Gods on the Block Prologue: Bringing Down The Hammer   🗺️   Mt. Li-Gun, Wessle 📅   9:35 AM, 24th Etan 98 YGF, Feastday 🎵   Black Jern took the proffered hammer, staring at it. The silence that followed was broken by no one, as if the collective mob held its breath for whatever Jern decided to do.  His brow remained furrowed, white knuckling the long shaft of the hammer. Trembling. Jern couldn't bring himself to meet the eyes of Mamlemin. He began to shake, from his shoulders to his feet. And then he lifted the hammer above his head, screaming. The mob became a mess of movement, some trying to stop Jern, others encouraging him. As soon as Jern lunged at Mamlemin with his own warhammer, instinct kicked in and Mamlemin swung his shield from his back into a defensive position. "I will not fight you, Jern Happeck!" the old man yelled. In his defensive reflex, Mamlemin accidentally knocked over a silver mirror, loosely hanging from a side pocket of his backpack. Too focused on the enraged villager, Mamlemin did not notice the mirror's fall as he continued his plea. "I implore you to see reason!" Upon this last supplication, the mirror crashed into the rocky ground of Mt. Li-Gun with a single clink, but did not shatter. It uncannily fell flat, without a single bounce. The midday sun struck its reflective surface with all its might, and the mirror shone brightly... more brightly, even, than it should for the attentive eye, which may also caught a barely perceptible glow surrounding Mamlemin's figure. Big Willie reached to grab the hammer before Jern could bring it down, but he was just too far to grasp it. The mob struggled to contain itself - hands swatted away other hands, fists began flying. And Jern? Jern brought the hammer down. The light from the mirror reflected into his eyes, and he screamed as though in pain. He dropped the hammer, covering both of his eyes with his hands. "AAAAHHH! I cannot see!" he wailed, stumbling around the mob, waving a free hand while holding his eyes. "I told ya he were nothin' but evil! I told ya I would prove it!" Mamlemin sighed deeply at the heinous blacksmith's show and turned to the mob, gathered closer to him now, with a fatherly stern expression. "This charade needs to end now. I seek no troubles, only to be left in peace. Many of you have come all the way to Mt. Li-Gun expecting to fight off a demon, or a monster. However, I can see in most of your eyes that who stands before you does not meet your expectations. I am the same Mamlemin you've known through all these years: the man who taught your kids, and bandaged your wounds. Jern Happeck," he said, extending a hand towards the jester running around like a crazed man, not wasting a single glance for the fool's display, "will not relent in his attempts at turning you against me. I know I will not sway his mind. I can only hope that I have appeased yours... Please, return to Gardol. Give my last goodbyes to your children. Tell them I will miss them dearly..." The slightest grin appeared on Mamlemin's face as he gave a melancholic look towards the Eastern horizon, before finishing. "They are good kids, and I will cherish every single moment I spent teaching them." Among the mob, a few still supported Jern. These people yelled and threw rocks, ineffectually striking the lip of the cavern above Mamlemin. Jern stumbled about, reeling and blinded. No one seemed to care enough about him to keep him straight. The rest of the mob shared a look and prepared to quit the cavern's mouth, grabbing their harvesting tools and would-be weaponry. The old man's words seemed to have reached the sanest ears this day. With a grateful nod to Big Willie, Mamlemin turned around to pick up his warhammer, ignoring the few rocks thrown by the small number of peasants still infuriated with him. His motion stopped for a moment and the old man's eyebrows raised with surprise when he noticed the silver mirror lying next to the hammer. His eyes squinted as his gaze darted from the mirror to Jern, and back to the mirror. With a satisfied and discreet grin, he towed the mirror to its rightful place. The rocks kept flying around the old man. The mirror back to where it belonged, Mamlemin grabbed his hammer and fastened to his belt, the grin now gone leaving his usual stoic expression behind. His possessions once more with him, the old man slowly walked towards the cavern, without ever looking back. The sounds of rocks striking the cavern's lips and inner walls slowly diminished to nothing, as did the shouts. Hours passed before the old man found a suitable spot in the cave to rest and get a sense of his bearings. The cavern itself connected to a wide tunnel, filled with luminescent crystals. These crystals were soft in their light, providing just enough light to see the space immediately around them. Just looking at the array of crystals showed Mamlemin a path through the mountain. Without the sun or the moon or the sky, it was impossible to know that a day had passed for Mamlemin inside Li-Gun's depths. After walking and walking, only to rest for a few hours before continuing on, the old man came upon an underground city: the old Vel Durum.

Godsfall: New Gods on the Block Prologue: From An Age Before   🗺️   Mt. Li-Gun, Wessle 📅   9:00 AM, 24th Etan 98 YGF, Feastday 🎵   Sanctuary In the southern region of Wessle, less than a day's trip north of the Coalspine, sat a craggy and elderly sort of pile of large rocks called Mt. Li-Gun. And tucked into this pile of rocks, there was a cavern where an old man stared pitifully into a pool of water. Beside him were all his belongings: a horseless cart; a haversack, made from the hide of a creature that no longer walks Khalgun; a large hammer made for the old followers of Pelios, somehow kept away from Kadar's Order of the Seeker. The sun had yet to crest noon, but Mamlemin had lit a lantern and hung it nearby anyway. Couldn't rely on the sun all day. The man knelt by the pool, his shoulders hunched with weariness. His reflection in the water, dimly lit by the faint light of the lantern, was distorted by the ripples of the wind rushing inside the cavern. Strangely, the volutes of dark fog emanating from his eyes did not appear to be disturbed by the wind, dancing with a mind of their own. His teeth were clenched, his arms trembling, his nails deeply sunk into his palms. Inside the pool, a pair of white irises reflected back into Mamlemin's face. A true mirror of his own - even the swirls of black, cloudy vapor surrounding them. "What is happening?!" he yelled with an outcry of rage, slamming his fist onto the ground. As he did so, a grayish pebble he knocked over turns instantly dark, so dark that all light seemed to avoid its contour. Yet, from this very darkness originated an ominous glow that illuminated the surroundings in a twenty-foot radius. Now that his figure was well lit by the magical pebble, Mamlemin Ono scrutinized every angle of his withered face. Before long, the ripples of falling tears blurred Mamlemin's reflection. After a few minutes of motionless silence, save for the occasional dripping sound onto the water's surface, Mamlemin crawled away from the pool and put his back against the cavern's wall. Sitting a scribe position, he closed his eyes and put his hands flat on his knees. He took one long breath. Another one. Another one... "Calm yourself. Breathe. Focus on your inner balance. Focus on your inner flame. Focus," he whispered faintly to himself. After twenty minutes of intense meditation, Mamlemin opened his eyes. His pale blue human eyes, free of all dark fog. Only silence answered Mamlemin, silence being a relative term - drips from further inside the cavern, the flutter of some winged creature, the subtle movement of the cave settling - these sounds answered the old man. As the minutes passed, the drops could be counted in steady intervals. Six or seven passed without event. Then eight. On the ninth drip, an unsettling noise arose from the mouth of the cave: the sound of hoofbeats. Wooden cartwheels on hard packed dirt. Terrified, angry voices. Not close, but close enough to be heard on the wind. Mamlemin turned his head towards the mouth of the cave, towards the approaching voices of the mob, and sighed. "So they came back..." Wearily, the old man stood and glanced at his possessions scattered across the cave. His eyes barely rested for a second on the cart. It was full of clothes, kitchen utensils, books... nothing that could not be replaced. From the haversack, resting on various bare necessities, protruded an antique though well-maintained chain mail. The man slowly walked towards the armor, and delicately ran his right hand on the iron links, a gentle, rehearsed caress. There would be no leaving this behind. He picked up his backpack and with one swift motion put it on. The voices were getting closer. Mamlemin looked to the left, towards the mouth of the cavern. With the midday sun bathing the mountain in its radiance, he squinted his eyes and analyzed the hard terrain that he would need to go through should he run that way. He then peered to the right, through the darkness of the unknown cavern, his irises growing large once more. Mamlemin picked up the little glowing rock by the pool and threw it in that direction, as far as he could. The magic pebble bounced a few times, as the tunnel went on, and on, and on... The voices were getting louder. Mamlemin closed his eyes, stroked his salt and pepper beard a few times, took a deep breath... Suddenly, his eyes opened towards the mouth of the cave. "I will not run away. Not this time," he said to no one, voice resolute. With a new spring to his steps, Mamlemin grabbed his warhammer and shield, both marked with Pelios's crest. The shield, he swung across his back. The warhammer, he put alongside the cavern's mouth, out of view from the entrance. Outside the cave, Mamlemin could see clouds of dust rising into the air. Torches. Pitchforks. Shovels. Pickaxes. Bodies and bodies and bodies of men and women and children, marching in a disorganized fashion up the path to his cavern. "I will not fight!" he yelled, stepping out of the cavern. With the echo of his voice resonating throughout the Li-Gun mountains, a renewed serenity appeared on Mamlemin's face. An inviting expression of calm and peace. His voice reverberated out and over the path, reaching almost the foot of the mountain before decaying to nothingness. The villagers seemed unmollified at best, and even angrier at worst. "Liar! Deceiver!" They called, pumping their instruments as they did so. "An example must be made!" Mamlemin scrutinized the faces in the crowd. Among the malevolent snarls and the fearful eyes, he noticed a few worried gazes - worried not for themselves, but for what might happen to the old man. Mamlemin inhaled deeply, before speaking in a low, and yet powerful, tone. His voice filled the air but left it undisturbed. His words delicately reached everyone's ears with perfect clarity and equal volume, no matter whether they stood five feet or twenty feet away from him: "Liar... Deceiver... These are strong words... Words that should not be flung around wildly. Can anyone of you tell me one single time when I lied or deceived you?" A short silence ensued, before, with a finger, Mamlemin singled out one an anxious middle-aged man from the crowd. "Tell me Godrel, when your wife, Cehrih, past away three years ago from the yellow fever, was I not here? All these long nights by the fire? To listen to you, when everyone else was avoiding you like a pest-infested sow? Have I failed you in your time of dearest need? And have I ever asked for anything in return?" Mamlemin's shaming digit then turned to a mother in her thirties, her sons by her side. "And you Sirna, when your kid broke his legs in that horse accident, was I not here? To set the bones back in place? To stitch the gaping wound? To daily change his bandages and chase away the infection? And now, where is that boy? Where is Brolvag? By your side! Chasing me, his healer! On his own two legs! Have I ever asked for anything in return, for all these hours spent by your side?" The old man's hand lowered once more by his side, as his gaze jumped from one shameful face to the other, their eyes lowering as he made contact, uncannily targeting the sparse faces in the crowds that are not filled with hate. "Yes, it is true, I have never told you my story... for I never had to! For you accepted me, not for who I was in a long forgotten life... but for who I am! You saw the pain that assailed my soul, but you also saw my desire to be part of your community. You welcomed me among you, no questions asked, without a doubt in your minds. In exchange for your kindness, I taught your kids to read and count. In exchange for your kindness, I took care of your aches, of body and mind. So tell me... When have I deceived you? When have I wronged any of you?" A harsh murmur befell the mob of villagers. Some stopped their forward march toward Mamlemin, causing confusion among their numbers. Some cried out in the defense of the old man. Some were not so appeased. "Listen not to the words of the demon. Did you not see his eyes all black and afire, not two days ago?" There were whispers of dissent. A few of the torchbearers raised their flames and cry out. A man, bucktoothed with short, black hair and blue eyes, stepped out of the crowd. Anger written all over his face and clenched fists. Jern Happeck. "He may have healed yer babies, but in selfish purpose! He wants them to eat when they're strong! Just like in the stories my gram told me before the blasted gods destroyed our world." Big Billie spoke up in Mamlemin's defense. "Those are just stories, Jern. Mamlemin's a harmless old sod, kind even." "He's an evil bastard and I'll prove it to ya! What harmless old sod wears chainmail and carries a hammer?" The old man's eyes, full of gratitude, turned to Big Billie. He lifted his right hand in a soothing gesture, inviting Big Billie to step back and leave the matter of Jern to him. The two men now faced each other, one with hate and fear imprinted on every wrinkle of his face, the other serene and patient. "Jern, I understand your fears. I do not ask of you to welcome me back in Gardol, only that you leave me be. I will never harm any of you, nor anyone for that matter." Mamlemin bit his lower lip slightly, stroking his beard once, before giving a sigh and continuing. "I indeed possess a hammer. A warhammer. A gift from a time long gone... I have not wielded it in ages and I do not intend to anymore... Take it," Mamlemin said, stepping aside to reveal the hammer resting against the cavern's mouth. "If this will appease your mind, take it. I have no need for such a weapon anymore. I have kept it all these years for sentimental reasons... but if this is what is needed to sway your mind, and avoid bloodshed today, then it is a price I will gladly pay. Jern Happeck, take it. This warhammer, relic of a troubled time, is yours."

Sounds like there's plenty of room for some healing caster up in here 😉   (I'll look into either cleric or druid by the end of the week)

Just testing a webhook, ignore this.

Is this something users will end up having control over, like with the old site?  I may be in the minority, but I prefer having 30 posts to a page 😆

Godsfall: New Gods on the Block Prologue: A Trail of Stars   🗺️   The Wild, Brenus 📅   3:00 AM, 24th Etan 98 YGF, Feastday 🎵   Even In Death Eventually, Ralikanthae found himself deep in the heart of The Wild, far from the birthtrees of his people.   The woods here smelled of dampness and lavender and sandalwood. Devoid of sound. A perfect spot to breathe for a moment. The pale elf stopped dead in his tracks, hunching over to clamp both hands upon his knees and suck in air greedily. The woods here were surprisingly pleasant. He perspired fiercely from his run, and must recover from his encounter with that monstrosity. "I almost lost you, Ralikanthae," the double-voice chided. Soothing. Rumbling. "You must take greater care." Was he losing his mind? The voices sounded nearly concerned for his well being. The thought of that possibility frightened him deeply. He briefly wondered if he should even respond to the voice further, but he needed answers. "I... remember traveling to the Archstone, except everything after that is lost to me," he admitted to the voice, one eyebrow quirking upwards. He rose to a standing position, quickly removing his carried bag and threw it to the ground, then stripped out of his cloak. Using the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow. Reaching up, he swept his long ivory locks back, twisting them into a bun before fishing a silvery strip of ribbon from his pocket, using it to tie the hair up. "Yes child," the voice spoke in its strange two-tone. "We met soon after you came through that portal. You wandered into the Astral Plane, neophyte - my domain." The voice called the Astral Plane home. The revelation stunned the elf, forcing him to take a step backward. Ralikanthae tried to recall his moments leading up to the Archstone and after, but his mind was only a blank mess. "Who are you!? What are you?!" he demanded, scanning around the quiet woods here. "Reveal yourself; enough hiding!" He flexed his fingers, ready to defend himself from an unseen attacker if he must. There was no motion in the woods around Ralikanthae. Not a whisper of wind, not a scuttle of creatures. It was eerily silent. And yet... "Your people are cursed," the voice continued, ignoring his questions and demands. "They angered the wrong sort, long ago, and you bear their burden. You begged me for a cure." Blinking several times, he realized that there was a quiescence within the woods. A faint frown creased his lips before the voice continued again. What the voice said was all true - he did seek a panacea to the Curse which afflicted all of his people. Ralikanthae nearly let slip a snide remark, opening his mouth to do so, but swallowed his words. It was better not to agitate an interdimensional being who offered assistance. That begged the question: at what cost?   "I am here and I am not here, neophyte. If you want to see me again, you need only close your eyes." "Close my... eyes?" he asked with no small amount of skepticism. The elf smirked to himself as he shook his head slightly. Given everything that had been happening to him recently, closing his eyes to see the owner of the voice seemed rather tame. "I shall play along," he continued, taking a deep breath. He released his frustrations and anxiety among many other turbulent emotions. Suddenly, he clenched his eyelids shut with surprising anticipation.   Something inside his mind opened - almost like another set of eyes entirely. Around him was the same array of branches and bushes, the high boughs of trees and the full moon - brighter than he'd ever seen - in the night sky. The same, save for the shimmery pink and purple glow emanating from every living thing around him. Was this an illusion? Not only was the world now cast in a brilliance he'd never known, but it was breathtakingly beautiful. Shimmering colors and glows made up the landscape, painting his surroundings in a starry pallor that captivated the elf's attention. For several seconds, he became lost to it all. That is, until he noticed the elven woman whose gaze held stellar cosmoses within them. Her presence was commanding. An indigo waterfall of hair cascaded from her crown to her navel; stars collapsed and reformed in the empty sockets of her eyes. "Neophyte Ralikanthae Sythaeryn," she said, her voice undulating between those two tones. "I am Karelia Vhorta. The domain before you - this is the Astral Plane. It is here and not here, intertwined and yet sovereign. You merely peer into its depths while your body remains in the Realm Material." The Astral Plane - a realm parallel to the Material Plane. Something Ralikanthae had only considered circumstantial at best, but now knew was the truth. This was no mere illusion.     The astral being pointed northwest, drawing Ralikanthae's gaze in that direction, and a bead of bright, glowing light formed upon her digit. Her next words hit him hard. "You and I have a deal, neophyte. You desire to remove the curse of your people, and I desire freedom from my prison. You desire knowledge, and I desire a student. Find my beacon, neophyte. Begin your path." As she spoke, the bead coalesced into a ray, shooting through and past the trees. It disappeared into the wood, leaving a trail of stardust in its wake. They had an agreement in place. The elf found this new set of circumstances to be overwhelmingly positive. It left him with multitudes of questions, many of which must remain unanswered for now. "I... am sorry I doubted you," he admitted, a frown forming as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. The pale elf shed his skepticism and jadedness in favor of excitement and wonder; there was little in this world which brought him pleasure or joy anymore. This was beyond an exception. Unwilling to open his eyes just yet for fear of losing sight of Karelia and the path, Ralikanthae asked another question. "I will do as you say, Karelia, but I need to know: how could I possibly be able to help free you from prison?" he asked in a candid tone, tilting his head to the side. "There is no reason for sorrow, neophyte. You live, and that is what is relevant." She dropped her outstretched arm, and her form shimmered slightly. Flickering. "My prison is not a place. It is a cruel joke, a cosmic irony. Find my beacon, Ralikanthae, and more will be revealed to you." No sooner than she finished talking does her form wink out, dissipating into a cloud of vapor. Ralikanthae opened his eyes, and the purple and pink aura about the silent Wild too vanished. Just a creepy and dark wood again. He closed his eyes, and it returned. As did the trail of stardust. With a sense of overwhelming purpose, he pushed into the woods, following Karelia's trail.  

Godsfall: New Gods on the Block Prologue: Blood From A Stone 🗺️   The Wild, Brenus 📅   12:00 AM, 24th Etan 98 YGF, Feastday 🎵   Salem's Secret South of the Crimson Hills lay the vast Wild, a shrouded jungle full of mystery even before the Godswar. So mysterious was it that high elven scholars plumbed its depth for knowledge and power. They found it in the form of a massive stone archway - made entirely of a single piece of strange rock. Every single scholar who entered this archway found themselves lost for days, and came back... different. This was the history of Zloln's clan of elves that a young Ralikanthae Sythaeryn belonged to. A history he well knew. A history he repeated. The Archstone flared to life, ancient glyphs and symbols burning a bright silver, spitting out the ghostly pale elf in a plume of pink and purple smoke. The smoke seeped and oozed into the moonlit canopy surrounding him. Collapsing onto all fours, Ralikanthae's hands clenched dirt in their desperate grasps. He felt sick. Bile rose up in his throat and he retched terribly, except nothing came up. Lifting his head some, peering through ivory bangs, he found himself struggling to discern his surroundings. All he saw was the strange smoke, already dissipating. Images of silver runes burned in his vision still and it made his already swimmy head downright dizzying. The elf stood woozily, but went forward, stumbling, tumbling back to the ground. His breathing intensified as he realized what stood imposingly before him: the Archstone.   "N-No!!" he choked out, shaking his head violently. Ralikanthae scrambled backward, scuttling away from the Archstone in terror until he hit a rock. Hard. The pain was enough to knock some semblance of sense back into him. He shivered still, eyes closed shut and arms hugging his knees tightly; he began gathering himself. The pain helped to act as a focus, anchoring him to the moment. Soon, his breathing became even. Tentatively, he lifted his head and stares up at the Archstone; there was a mixture of dread and confusion that flooded through him. Vague, hazy memories hung teasingly out of reach of his recollection. "What is happening?!" he murmured aloud, taking a deep, steadying breath and then rose to stand. Pale gaze swiveling all around him, the elf realized that the world was somehow different. Something was changing. "Ralikanthae." At the sound of his own name, the elf's eyes widened and he began spinning around to locate the speaker. Or, was it speakers? Almost two distinct voices overlaid atop each other - a deep, reverberating one and a soft, chilling one. There was no one else around. Tingles shot down his spine. On edge, the elf's gaze continued to roam in vain. "Run, neophyte." The hairs upon his neck stood on end; Ralikanthae instinctively snapped his gaze over to stare at the Archstone and its continual spewing of ominous mists. "Run now." The voice insisted that he run. But, why? Ralikanthae did not understand what was happening to him in the moment; his mind raced with all manner of outlandish possibilities. A sudden rush of air exploded out of the Archstone, flinging rocks and twigs about. The elf covered his face and arms to protect himself from flying debris. Wincing from the pain, Ralikanthae slowly lowered his arms to peer at the archway of the relic and noticed something trying to escape from it - a wispy, nearly transparent object wiggled out from the mist. Grasped at the air, searching. "Run if you want to save your people," the voice urged him once more. It evoked a deep, powerful sentiment within him which lent strength to his limbs and steeled his courage. Ralikanthae inhaled sharply and began to run as fast as he possibly could away from the Archstone. His legs felt like leaden weights, bogging him down; not even his limbs responded rightfully and Ralikanthae stumbled again, nearly falling to the ground. "Help me! You must!" he pleaded to the voice.   "I cannot control the gate," the voice responded. The object was joined by a second, and then a third, of itself. A mass of wriggling tentacle-like appendages found the edges of the Archstone, and three more rushed out to grasp the opposite side. A translucent bubble, all pink and purple reflections of the mist still spilling into the forest, pulled itself out from the portal. The elf caught himself upon a nearby tree trunk and glanced over his shoulder at the horror which was emerging from the belching portal's mists. A wave of fear rolled over him at the sight of the tentacled monstrosity. "It hungers." The bubble of pink and purple squirmed out of the Archstone, its appendages in tow. It hovered gently above the dirt path, its tentacles lilting. The lurid colors of this massive terror were captivating; at once both mysterious and deadly. Despite that immediate knowledge, Ralikanthae found himself incapable of moving. The tentacled thing took advantage of the elf's hesitation, coiling up and launching itself at him. Overwhelmed by fear, Ralikanthae sluggishly tried to defend himself against the creature's lunging tentacles as they coiled around him. His breathing became erratic as survival instincts took over, thrashing his limbs and attempting to tear himself free from the creature's ensnaring tendrils. Something dark and horrible rose to the surface of the elf's demeanor as he shed his inhibition - this was a fight for his life! The grip of fear fled from him; he succumbed to wrath now. "Enough of this!" he roared as his pale features began warping into the grotesque and monstrous. His pupils dilated to resemble hungry obsidian voids. The elf's teeth all grew into inch-long spikes, easily capable of ripping flesh apart. Even Ralikanthae's fingernails became awful claws that could rend meat and bone. This was his true self, a macabre display in all its horror. "I am... nothing's prey!" he growled aloud in a defiant, bestial voice. The creature reared back two of its limbs, striking at the pale elf with immense force. The first sailed past Ralikanthae's head and into the tree next to him. With surprising quickness, the elf chomped down upon the fleshy tendril in retaliation. The taste was... strange. Like nothing Ralikanthae had ever tasted before. And moreover, it bled. But there was little time to dwell on that. The second tentacle battered Ralikanthae's form, crashing into his shoulder and knocking him into the brush. The creature made a sound outside of the audible range that could still be felt - a low-end roar that rippled the air around it, tingling with electricity. As the pale elf got knocked aside, some kind of rippling burst radiated from his feet - sending him further and further into the woods away from the massive jellyfish creature. The stolen blood carried a spark of something that had been gone from Khalgun for a long time - magic.   Weightless. The sensation of feeling utterly without control of one's own body. Ralikanthae soared through the air, the powerful strike from the creature sending him far away; a thankful gap of distance was now between the elf and monster. Landing upon his feet somehow, skidding backward before coming to a rest, he clutched at his injured arm. Adrenaline still coursed through him, but he was in control now. His own bestial features, claws and fangs, receded; he flickered his gaze towards the woods. Safety. "When the voices in your head make sense..." he muttered dryly. He stole one last glance at the interdimensional entity before he dashed in the direction of the thick foliage. The elf's movements were graceful strides and leaps, more akin to the bounding of a running stag than that belonging to a clumsy bipedal. As Ralikanthae bolted deeper and deeper into woods, the horrid pink and purple creature vanished from sight. As though it had never been there. The mist cloyed and roiled in the distance behind the pale elf, and no matter how far he ran he could see it behind him. Faint, but it was there.