Seeds of Destruction (Part 1)

JubalBreakbottle · May 9

Celsior Loriniscil, Prince of Alfheim

Inspiration Yes | HP 35/35 | HD 5/5d6
StrSave -1

Athletics, proficient +2 8 | Dex 16 | ConSave +2 14 | Int 18 | Wis 10 | Cha 10
Step 2/2 | Shield 1/1 | Bladesong 2/2 | Recovery 4/4
Spells +8 DC 16 | Cantrips | 1st 4/4 | 2nd 3/3 | 3rd 2/2

Celsior listens intently to the captain nodding appropriately. He half listens to the other cafe customers but concludes that there might be some recruits around them. But then, the seeds started falling.

After the first meteorite touchdown, the prince sits up refocusing on the streaks from the sky. He recognizes the astral elven starmoth seeds, but they were alive unlike the one in H'Catha that they found and collected. And, the seeds appear altered for another purpose.

His reflection is interrupted by Captain Sartell's retreat as he watches her head toward her ship in the port. Celsior stands up and shoots the last of his wine. "Very acute observation, Yahs!" He replies to his single crew and then sweeps his gaze toward the customers of the cafe. He drops his cup and picks up his luxury luggage, "listen up! The recruitment drive is shifting speeds. If you want to join a crew spelljamming the Astral Sea, follow me! If your interview fails later, we can drop you off somewhere!" He quickly surveys the cafe customers looking in those eyes who would meet his gaze.

Then he turns, he dashes off to follow Captain Sartell heading toward the port and ship.

Mechanics

Active spells:

Action: -

Edited May 9 by JubalBreakbottle (see edit history)

Cointhief · May 9

@PureChance @Semety @Harding @KingGoblin ooc: Waiting for posts before next update. :)

KingGoblin · May 10

Klaktuk Cha-Pok but most people call me Steve

Inspiration Yes | HP 43/43 | HD 5/5d8 | AC 15 | Passive Perception 16
StrSave +0

Athletics +0 10 | Dex 14 | ConSave +2 14 | Int 10 | Wis 10 | Cha 18
Bardic Inspiration 4/4 | Chameleon Carapice | Thri-kreen Telepathy
Spells +7 DC 15 | Cantrips | Spells Known Slots: 1st 4/4 | 2nd 3/3 | 3rd 2/2

Without stopping playing, Steve's music shifts to a more determined, action-tempo, suitable for a fight scene or for running for your lives. The crashing of the attack adds percussion to his notes, and almost seems choreographed to make for an epic action sequence.

At the Captain's words, and Celsior's orders, Steve follows on the heels of the Prince.

Mechanics

Active spells: Going to pretty much always have Comprehend Languages active, as a ritual.

Action: -

Semety · May 10

Minnifred "Fred" Stormcandle Mark of Hospitality Halfling Bard (Creation) 5

Minnifred winked back at Rush, the blue-skinned fellow whose name she'd just learned. "Cheer up, ducky," she said with a laugh, returning to Tender Henk. "Get that fella his Thunderball, and dust off all the glasses you got! We're buying a round, fancy be damned if there's enough booze!" With a clink, she dropped two gold coins into Henk's tip jar – enough for a good ten gallons of ale.

While rummaging through her pack, Fred listened intently to the talk of ships and the Astral Sea. They also mentioned seafood, which put her mind at ease – these must be sailors discussing some far-off port, untouched by her crew's adventures. Just as she considered joining the conversation, the world tilted on its axis.

The sky itself seemed to crack, unleashing a torrent of falling objects. Fred had no time to appreciate the bizarre beauty of the crystalline beings or the eerie, musical note that cut through the cacophony of explosions and screams. Witnessing Pudgetackle's brutal demise – a gruesome echo of her own husband's loss – Fred knew this was far worse than a tavern brawl. This demanded immediate action.

Her first thought, a yearning for her crew, was quickly dismissed. They were safer on the Stormwrack, hopefully. Next, she scanned the scene for those still fighting and anyone in need of protection. Most seemed to be fleeing, scrambling away from the devastation. Some making a dash for their own ship. A sound decision, Fred thought, and certainly a more defensible place than this half-wrecked cafe. She would do her part to ensure as many others got to safety.

Spotting the goop creature making a stand, Fred let out a hearty cheer, drumming a quick beat on her trusty drum and sending a glittering fish-shaped mote towards her, before whipping out her hand crossbow. With a swift, practiced motion, she loaded and fired at the same crystalline being the goop was attacking. "That's no way to introduce yourselves!" she yelled, her voice surprisingly steady amidst the chaos, as if she were scolding a group of unruly children.

OOC

Bonus Action: Giving a d8 of Bardic InspirationOnce within the next 10 minutes, the creature can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw it makes. The creature can wait until after it rolls the d20 before deciding to use the Bardic Inspiration die, but must decide before the DM says whether the roll succeeds or fails. Once the Bardic Inspiration die is rolled, it is lost. A creature can have only one Bardic Inspiration die at a time. with a Mote of PotentialWhen the creature uses the Bardic Inspiration die, the mote provides an additional effect based on whether the die benefits an ability check, an attack roll, or a saving throw, as detailed below:

Ability Check. When the creature rolls the Bardic Inspiration die to add it to an ability check, the creature can roll the Bardic Inspiration die again and choose which roll to use, as the mote pops and emits colorful, harmless sparks for a moment.

Attack Roll. Immediately after the creature rolls the Bardic Inspiration die to add it to an attack roll against a target, the mote thunderously shatters. The target and each creature of your choice that you can see within 5 feet of it must succeed on a Constitution saving throw against your spell save DC or take thunder damage equal to the number rolled on the Bardic Inspiration die.

Saving Throw. Immediately after the creature rolls the Bardic Inspiration die and adds it to a saving throw, the mote vanishes with the sound of soft music, causing the creature to gain temporary hit points equal to the number rolled on the Bardic Inspiration die plus your Charisma modifier (+3). to Yahs @DM-Tareth
Action: Attacking with silvered crossbow

Attack

Damage

PureChance · May 10

Rush

Air Genasi Valkuryte Racer

AC: 17(19) (Splint, Shield) | HP: 43/43 () | HD: 5/5 | Speed: 35 ft. | Initiative: +0
Senses: Passive Perception 17, Insight 17, Investigation 10. Darkvision 60ft.
Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 10 (+0) | ConSave: +2: 14 (+2) | Int: 10 (+0) | Wis: 18 (+4) | Cha: 8 (-1)
Languages: Common, Auran
Spell Slots: L1 4/4 | L2 2/3 | L3 2/2

Events conspired to interrupt any answers from the ooze, as the previously distant and beautiful meteor shower turned into imminent danger. His eyes flicked to the sky as soon as the first strange metal pod landed, seeking more. He hoped Thordal had been clear. No time to dwell as they continued to fall and the cafe exploded into panic. With one free hand he lunged and grabbed the fresh-made Thunderball from the bar, offering a quick toast to the little halfling. No sense in wasting good booze. He notes the slime person had the same good instincts. The next second, he was forced to down it as the cafe literally exploded. He was grateful now that he had run straight from the harbour, not bothering to waste time changing out his armour, though the rest of his sailors bag was still down there. "What in the hells are all these!" he shouted over the din as arms, mops and crossbow bolts started flying. He dodged the dog, and found his eyes drawn to the strange, beautiful geometric shapes. He snapped back to reality, and a crack of thunder erupted across the racing crystal vines as his eyes blazed with lightning. "Shatter!" It seems to briefly stunt their growth, but then they simply bud from lower down, weaving an even denser net. "Well shit. That didn't work." he muttered. "Plan B." He spun towards the fancy elf.

"I'm not sure what half those words mean, but if it means getting out I'm in," he shouted, vaulting over a flying table. "Sorry Henk, I'll settle up later. You know I'm good for it!" he called back in the direction of the bar. "Same place that other chap ran too? Down in the harbour I assume?" he rattled back at the elf again. Despite the destruction, an undercurrent of excitement could be found in his voice and body. He loved living on the edge. It was the best place to go faster. He hoped he wasn't about to get on one of those strange turtleships though, they needed to be light enough to juke these pods and get to open water. "Guess that's a yes," he thought as the aristocrat disappeared down the stairs.

He thumbed towards the newly installed open air balcony on the cafe's sea view. "Shortcut anyone?" he offered with a wide grin, waiting a moment for anyone who wished to follow, before swan diving backwards into freefall, trying his best to aim for the edge of the harbour. He stretched it as late as he could before letting the air cushion him - and up to four other brave jumpers - against fatal deceleration.

OOC

Action: Cast Shatter on the crystal vines growing to encase the building.

Bonus Action: -

Movement: -

Reaction: Featherfall

Object Interaction: -

Actions & Resources

Actions:

Warhammer. Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1d8 + 3 bludgeoning damage.

Club. Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1d4 + 3 bludgeoning damage.

Javelin. Melee/Thrown Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., ranged 30/120 ft., one target. Hit: 1d6 + 3 piercing damage.

Shocking Grasp . Melee Spell Attack (V,S): +7 to hit, Touch, one target. Hit: 2d8 Lightning damage.

Sacred Flame . Cantrip (V,S): Creature you can see, range 60 ft., one target, no cover. DEX Save: 2d8 radiant damage.

Toll the Dead . Cantrip (V,S): Creature you can see, range 60 ft., one target. WIS Save: 2d8/2d12 necrotic damage.

Bonus Actions:

-

Reactions:

-

Class/Race Features:

FeatherFall (0/1 Long Rest) .

Levitate (1/1 Long Rest) .

Wrath of the Storm (4/4 Long Rest) . You can thunderously rebuke attackers. When a creature within 5 feet of you that you can see hits you with an attack, you can use your reaction to cause the creature to make a Dexterity saving throw. The creature takes 2d8 lightning or thunder damage (your choice) on a failed saving throw, and half as much damage on a successful one.

Channel Divinity (1/1)

Turn Undead
Destructive Wrath

Cointhief · May 11

Trouble at the Docks... @JubalBreakbottle @PureChance @KingGoblin

Hardened by the chaos of the Academy attacks, the Prince is quick with his wits and light on his feet. Tapping his elven boots in a graceful, enchanting rhythm he dances over rubble and the fallen, leading a small group adventurers and coffee aficionados towards the clearest escape route: down to the shallows and the piers of the harbor beyond. None of the cafe tourists sported luggage as luxurious as the Prince of Alfheim, countering only with tiny souvenir satchels of Tender Henk's Morning Roast beans held tight with blood-drained, white fingers.

Steve followed while providing some important ambient music. Like a legendary Pan Piper, some of the more confused patrons followed along...perhaps preferring the structure and beauty of the melody to the crystalline siren's death note. Stumbling down the wet steps, one of the civilians lost his patience "...that's nice, but can you do 'The Leaves of Pradas"? putting in a request.

Rush was enchanted not by the Thri-kreen's song, but by the geometry of the crystals. The most intricate of angled planar faces seemed to be where the vines intersected and branched in cleavage, with radial symmetries connecting the facets of the greater structure like a geodesic dome. It was one of these such nexus' of growth he targeted with a burst of thunder, hugging the top flight of some apartments next door.

*CHOoOM*

At first it seemed to have little effect, but when a seagull plump with the afternoon catch alighted atop the cracked nexus, the entire thing vaporized into diamond dust by the weight of the connecting vines, each branching arm pressing inward with 6 thousand tons of force. A gnome carrying a hog-tied lamb over his shoulders managed to escape the no longer encased building just before the ground rumbled and shot up another phase of growth to patch and support the genasai's tear. The Valkuryte suspected healing magic in the way the vines repaired themselves, though his eyes were not attuned to see aurae of the Weave directly.

Rush then turned to self-preservation and noticed an even quicker route out, jumping off the tall, woven stone tide-breaker and daring others to boldly follow. Of course, tumbling within a zephyr was not as natural for Zac the Bumbling Drunkard. Zac never backed down from a dare however, even those merely implicitly stated. And so it was after pulling up his poorly fitted pants the fat man slipped on a spilled Vodka Cranberry, cracking his head on the stone rampart before tumbling down on top of Rush. Mercifully, the timeless planar powerword of 'Vaed R'vall' captured both Rush and the stumbling Zac in a cushion of living gale.

Crabs scattered in their omni-directional ways as the group splashed across salty puddles and the smooth black stone of the harbor. It seemed as if half the city had the same idea, as hundreds of people swarmed the piers. Only a trio of ships hadn't already set sail for the relative safety of the Chionthar...two longships and galleon. Outside the wall of the mob, it seemed unlikely the group could press through.

Sartell was already a few steps ahead, but an elbow to the face had squeezed her out of the crowd. Wiping the blood from her mouth and motioning to the galleon "Well, behold the Moondancer. Pity we can't reach it..." she quipped. "Any ideas?"

Making matters worse, it seemed a group of about a dozen thugs were clubbing the screaming commoners closest to the vessels, beating them to a pulp as a sneering man with long, bright, red hair like a raggedy doll was barking orders to load presumably more important cargo.

"...wait. I recognize that A-hole. Traevus the Crime Lord."

ooc: You guys have about 60 feet of riotous, panicked mob between you and the ships/thugs.

Fight the Blights... @DM-Tareth @Semety

Orkin Scrivello, M.D. operated a practice out of Rivington whose books were well in the red. Apparently, it was something like medieval times and no one gave a flying snake about teeth after all. He had come to the convention in the hopes of learning new methods to really get people excited about their bi-annual checkups, but the Guild had found him first. It was just a little taste at first, free of charge. But Silkroot's rush of mental acuity was highly addictive, and Orkin found himself tapping his feet anxiously during a root canal presentation that had gone on way too long.

It saved his life.

For just as he stepped outside to get his next fix, the Seed of Destruction had planted itself firmly in the Mermaid's bosom. With every competing practice in a 50 mile radius demolished instantly, even amongst the creeping blights and impending doom Orkin managed to pop a devilish grin...his business would be saved at last.

But then he caught the attention of one the astral blights nearby, who shot a rope of crystal from its torso to lasso the dentist's neck in a choking grasp. It was Corps Cadet Yahs Anirys who came to his rescue with a sweet-smelling mop and loaded down with gallons of stolen booze and expertly marketed snacks, the caustic cleansers of the slightly grey fibers sizzling the crystalline surface in rapid redox reaction.

The follow-up parcel of plasm ejected from the squishy deckhands neck certainly got the crystal being assaulting Orkin's attention, and some of the other strange entities seemingly attacking at random nearby. One of them turned as if to say 'I sEe YoU aRe amOrpHoUs. I aM aMorPhoUs, toO.' Before lashing out wildly with its prismatic tendrils.

Yahs had drifted in the Astral Sea, spelljammed across Realmspace at hyperspeeds always surrounded by the nurturing light of stars. Crisp whites, burning reds, scintillating blues...all had a seemingly endless energy that could project themselves across any expanse of space or time. Now it was this same radiant energy that encased her bulbous form, like a collapsing neutron star...she was the creamy yolk in an eggshell of white. The pulsing crystals stole from her the fires of life, feeding itself like a parasitic binary black hole.

The unsatiated swallower of energy lashes out at another unfortunate peasant, linking them to a similar fate.

Fred wasn't having any of it, insulted to the core by their absolute disregard towards chapter 7 of the Etiquette of Introductions, written by Nigil 'Incubator' Jones in the last century and memorized by every civil soul (twit or no). Snapping off a shot from her one-handed mechanus, the bolt barely missed its target...the barbed tip scratching the mineral surface in a failed Mohs hardness test.

ooc: Yahs, the strange vines grapple you, escape DC 13. Take 8 radiant damage. Then, at the start of your turn, take 3 cold damage.

Fred, two of the six have turned their attention to Yahs (within melee), there are four others still attacking at random. All of them are still within a move. They seem to be moving very slowly however, perhaps 1/3 your speed. Their lashing vines appear to have a range of around 10 ft. Yahs is up again, then astral blights, then Fred again. All can post.

Danger in the Streets... @rauhric

The stranger in a strange land took a page from the tiefling's book, following a trail of roving mauler stickers deeper into the crumbling metropolis. The Flaming Fist were doing what they could to hold back the life-sucking blights, but just as many were abandoning their duties to save themselves. There wasn't much coin to be had in dying for a commoner, Thom perceived in the cowards' surface thoughts.

A large mob was pressing up the main course back towards Sorcerous Sundries, but Thom followed a few others into a clear narrow alley between a few shops. Unfortunately, at that moment tremors underground shook and jiggled the foundations like Bill Huxtable's jell-o, and the strip of light high above the alley seemed to narrow to tiny slit. A sinister lurching sound like metal shearing was the only warning before the structures collapsed on top of them.*

*KDDDlldkdkkdllll*

A woman was trapped in the rubble, save a long pale arm...her jeweled fingers twitching violently before going limp.

Brushing what was left of himself off and turning a corner, Thom witnessed a gang of street kids execute a clever trap. One of them had baited the crystal being just aft of a barrel-laden wagon. At that instant, another triggered a little catch on the wheel they had previously sabotaged, dropping the wagon at the back and releasing all the heavy barrels in a clunky roll.

*ppFFFTTT*

The crushed entity darkened, its rigid organic crystal structure rotting like wood and releasing a blast of noxious gas. Cheers from the kids soon turned to disgusted coughs as they stumbled through the fart cloud, each one blaming the other for letting it out or laughing uncontrollably. It was a spark of hope: the entities could be destroyed.

With a moment to catch his breath, he paused at a crossroads with a choice to make.

The sturdiest looking, highest ground nearby was certainly the Counting House, one of the largest banks in the Realms and an imposing, castle-like fortress. It didn't quite meet the man with the mismatched eyes' requirements, being right on the river delta's shore. It did however seem to be made of a different material than the rest of the older city.

An alternative was the high wall that separated the Lower from the Upper cities, accessible by any number of abandoned garrisons peppering the catwalks...the closest of which being on the other side of the open air Bloomridge Park, a touch of green arbor among the yellow granite. Some such walls had already collapsed in parts, but the coursing path did seem to lead all the way back to the Basilisk Gate...and a way out of this cursed city.

For the earthling, Baldur's Gate was just like pictures he had seen of old Italy. Minus the crystal aliens bent on world domination, of course.

ooc: *Thom, take 22 bludgeoning damage from the building collapse. Or DC 12 dex save for half.

@Harding Please insert yourself into one of these scenes or describe a different path you are taking.

Rolling init even for those not in combat, just to keep a little order.

DM init roll goof, Steve twice. The first Steve is actually Rush (alpha order)

DM attack goof, ignore AB2 second attack. It can't attack the same creature it has already grappled. That attack was shifted on a nearby commoner instead.

Round 2:
Yahs <--Up (Rush, Thom, Celsior, Steve)
Astral Blights
(Raol) Fred

Edited May 11 by Cointhief (see edit history)

PureChance · May 12

Rush

Air Genasi Valkuryte Racer

AC: 17(19) (Splint, Shield) | HP: 43/43 () | HD: 5/5 | Speed: 35 ft. | Initiative: +0
Senses: Passive Perception 17, Insight 17, Investigation 10. Darkvision 60ft.
Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 10 (+0) | ConSave: +2: 14 (+2) | Int: 10 (+0) | Wis: 18 (+4) | Cha: 8 (-1)
Languages: Common, Auran
Spell Slots: L1 4/4 | L2 2/3 | L3 2/2

Rush landed on the docks with a thumbs up to his fellow jumper, even if the man had been slightly less aerodynamic it was the thought that counted. "Good on you, and best of luck out there - remember Valkur favours the bold!" he offers, before skipping through salty puddles in a, well, rush. He briefly dips under the dock to grab his waxed duffle, the dull red cover of his well thumbed copy of 'Racers of Toril' just poking out the top. Naturally Derelict Dave - one of the beach bums who Rush had offered a couple of silver to watch his bag many times in the past - had long since disappeared. His instinct for trouble and its avoidance bordered on the supernatural and the easygoing half-elf had slunk aboard one of the first ships to leave. He was one of those people who had, perhaps, already stumbled accidentally into a sort of nirvana, washed along by the waters of life quite happily gazing up at the sky as it passed by and avoiding any number of unlikely deaths by sheer grace.

Reunited with his equipment, he swung up onto the pier to meet the dashing captain, fancy noble and accompanying theme song. Oh, and the angry mob. Thinking on his feet, he drew on a soupçon of divine power to enhance his voice with the crack of lighting and rumble of thunder. "The Fist's been hit by the Upper Ward - all the best looting is there, and free horses!" He trusted that at least some of Baldur's Gate citizenry would find some sense within themselves and act according to their nature. If not, he could already feel a fair wind beginning to blow at his back. If it happened to blow the thugs into the water alongside parting the crowd all the better.

For a moment, Rush feels a surge of optimism as the crowd pauses. Only for a moment though, as one squinting member yells suspiciously back "How come yews are here then!", their point punctuated with a stubby dirtstained finger. "'ere yeah that's a good question, he's got his duffle too," a neighbour rumbles. Rush flounders for a response, feeling the mob begin to slip away again. He hadn't really thought this far ahead.

OOC

Action: Cast Thaumaturgy to enhance voice (booming up to 3 times as loud for 1 minute). If he has more than one action, there'll be a literal crack of lightning and rumble of thunder preceding it.

Bonus Action: -

Movement: -

Reaction: -

Object Interaction: -

Actions & Resources

Actions:

Warhammer. Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1d8 + 3 bludgeoning damage.

Club. Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1d4 + 3 bludgeoning damage.

Javelin. Melee/Thrown Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., ranged 30/120 ft., one target. Hit: 1d6 + 3 piercing damage.

Shocking Grasp . Melee Spell Attack (V,S): +7 to hit, Touch, one target. Hit: 2d8 Lightning damage.

Sacred Flame . Cantrip (V,S): Creature you can see, range 60 ft., one target, no cover. DEX Save: 2d8 radiant damage.

Toll the Dead . Cantrip (V,S): Creature you can see, range 60 ft., one target. WIS Save: 2d8/2d12 necrotic damage.

Bonus Actions:

-

Reactions:

-

Class/Race Features:

FeatherFall (0/1 Long Rest) .

Levitate (1/1 Long Rest) .

Wrath of the Storm (4/4 Long Rest) . You can thunderously rebuke attackers. When a creature within 5 feet of you that you can see hits you with an attack, you can use your reaction to cause the creature to make a Dexterity saving throw. The creature takes 2d8 lightning or thunder damage (your choice) on a failed saving throw, and half as much damage on a successful one.

Channel Divinity (1/1)

Turn Undead
Destructive Wrath

Edited May 12 by PureChance (see edit history)

rauhric · May 12

Thom
NG Human Sorcerer "Aberrant Mind" [4] | Warlock "Hexblade" [1]
AC 12/18 | HP 28-22 | Initiative +2 | Passive Perception 13

Thom was amazed by the destruction going on around him; "This is like THE Blitz ... I assume." As he saw the woman trapped under the rubble he grabs her polearm and tries to leverage the stones off of her so he can pull her to safety. Digging the polearm into any crack visible he could he puts his back into it to try and roll the rubble off of her. He will continue to attempt to do this until he is convinced that she is alive and worth saving or dead and not leaving behind. He will take the polearm in case others are trapped and he can repeat the process.

Witnessing the kids' ingenuity to attack the crystal things he looks to see if he can copy their efforts. Glancing around quickly he hopes something can be used to deliver the same results (partially collapsed building walls, or heavy barrels). If not he will simply blast the crystalline entities with his force blasts to help clear any paths that these things are blocking. His goal is to help others escape to whichever direction they wish.

His instincts for reaching higher ground have been answered with the notice of the Counting House. It was not ideal considering its proximity to water, but as far as convenience and availability it scored well on both accounts. Running in that direction he tries to get himself into the security of the building and he hoped no obstacles would prevent him from getting in. Whether he must lie or convince security that it is in their best interest to step aside and allow himself and whatever citizens he has been helping in he will do it. Now is not the time to take 'No' for an answer.

Thom has not seen himself yet, but with all the dust and rubble and general chaos he looks really, really bad. Blood is streaming down his scalp, gluing the dust and pebble to his face, and his armor is battered to hell. His shield, which was new, has taken a real beating; it might completely worthless after this encounter.

OoC

[1] He will try and help out whomever he can along the way, so maybe an Athletics +2 roll(s) to see if he can help remove rubble off people(s) with the polearm.

[2] He will attack the crystal creature(s) whenever he encounters them with his 2 eldritch blasts +8 to hit / 1d10 damage whenever he encounters them.

[3] He will lie or persuade himself into the bank with Deception or Persuasion +6 for each if he can, and he will try to get others inside as well. Worst case scenario he cast Suggestion on any guard that blocks his attempts to getting into the bank.

@Cointhief I would prefer you roll(s) to adjudicate as you see fit for crafting the next scenes.

Edited Thursday at 09:06 PM by rauhric (see edit history)

DM-Tareth · May 13

Yahs feels herself squeezed within the constricting vines of alien crystal. Senses her ectoplasmic innards start to lose their cohesiveness as they begin to ooze into and through the narrow gaps of the vine's hard grip. It was like being run through an apple press. An experience she was in no mood to repeat, especially while carrying several bottles of good booze. Fortunately the vines weren't able to create a complete containment field. Even as Fred's thrumming drumbeats suddenly match the inner beating of her hearts, she's pulling herself together and sliding from the construct's grip like a supersized cone full of summertime softserve. The mop sticking out of the quivering mound of ooze like some lemony fresh swizzle stick.

Quickly reforming into naturally unnatural shape, the Fleet Ensign rolls the bulbs of her pods and tips her somewhat scrunched tricorn hat to the halfling in thanks for aide. Seeing others still trying to escape, she continues to hold the line, doubling her efforts to batter the invading constructs into little more that mosaic bits. She unleashes a series of strikes ending with a simple self slap across her midsection that stimulates her nervous system to remove the chilling cold of the crystal.

MechanicsUse Bardic Inspiration + Mote on Escape Roll: Success

Attack
Extra Attack with Flurry of Blows
Use final Flurry Attack for Hand of Healing

Spent 1 Ki Point

HP: 41-8-3+5=35

Escape using Bardic Inspire + Mote

Mop Attack #1

Mop Damage

Mop Attack #2

Mop Damage

Flurry of Blows

FoB Damage

Flurry of Blows #2 Heal Self

Edited May 13 by DM-Tareth (see edit history)

JubalBreakbottle · May 13

Celsior Loriniscil, Prince of Alfheim

Inspiration Yes | HP 35/35 | HD 5/5d6
StrSave -1

Athletics, proficient +2 8 | Dex 16 | ConSave +2 14 | Int 18 | Wis 10 | Cha 10
Step 2/2 | Shield 1/1 | Bladesong 2/2 | Recovery 4/4
Spells +8 DC 16 | Cantrips | 1st 4/4 | 2nd 3/3 | 3rd 2/2

Celsior hits the press of the mob all trying to escape disaster. Seizing on Captain Sartell's bit of trivia, he withholds hitting the crime lord with a magical hammer and instead remembers his History.

Shouting over the chaos, the prince calls out to the crime lord, "Traevus! Traevus! Remember the story of King Donald! When there was a fire in his city, this carnival barker used his skills with crowds and saved so many people, that the mob replaced their old king with him! Help us, and you too could be well remembered!"

Mechanics

Active spells:

Action: Use History

Edited May 13 by JubalBreakbottle (see edit history)

KingGoblin · May 13

Klaktuk Cha-Pok but most people call me Steve

Inspiration Yes | HP 43/43 | HD 5/5d8 | AC 15 | Passive Perception 16
StrSave +0

Athletics +0 10 | Dex 14 | ConSave +2 14 | Int 10 | Wis 10 | Cha 18
Bardic Inspiration 4/4 | Chameleon Carapice | Thri-kreen Telepathy
Spells +7 DC 15 | Cantrips | Spells Known Slots: 1st 4/4 | 2nd 3/3 | 3rd 2/2

Steve thinks for a moment, as he watches the others try words to get through the crowd. He briefly considers just casting fly and going to the ship himself, but that wouldn't get the Captain there, and probably wouldn't earn him any friends. Instead, he simply projects his thoughts to the entire crowd, as a loud and overbearing thought. <<Out of the Way! Make a Hole! Spelljamming Officers Coming Through! Move Off!>> He combines his projection with action, and begins pushing and shoving, to open a path for the others. All the while, he continues playing his music, a more martial marching tune at this point.

Mechanics

Active spells: Going to pretty much always have Comprehend Languages active, as a ritual.

Action: -Mind-yelling at everyone to let them through. Both Intimidation and Persuasion have the same modifier, so either skill should work. Range is 120', so shouldn't be a problem to yell in everyone's mind.

Edited May 13 by KingGoblin (see edit history)

Cointhief · May 14

@Semety Any follow up combat action?

Semety · Wednesday at 07:15 AM

Minnifred "Fred" Stormcandle Mark of Hospitality Halfling Bard (Creation) 5

Unfortunately, her bolt bounced harmlessly off the crystalline creature's surface. With two attacking the only other person it seemed was staying to fight and four more attacking randomly, albeit slowly, Fred was beginning to feel out of her depth. She could fight as part of a crew, but six on two was a bit much for the halfling. Still she couldn't abandon the ooze lady, even if she was pretty certain she'd be able to outrun these rude alien shards on her own.

With a huff, Minnifred shoved the crossbow back in its holster and began beating on her drum, chanting a sinister tune at odds with her formerly cheery self. Gathering up the magic of her music she sent all of her scolding towards the strange creature she'd just shot at, hoping to get it to move away from her new companion and punish its rudeness.

If it moved away that would leave the goopy lady only one to deal with, and Fred would begin moving towards the exit as far as her stubby little legs would take her. "I think everyone who's gonna get out of 'ere is gone. Should we head to your ship?"

OOC

Action: Casting Dissonant WhispersCasting Time: 1 action
Range: 60 feet
Components: V
Duration: Instantaneous
You whisper a discordant melody that only one creature of your choice within range can hear, wracking it with terrible pain. The target must make a Wisdom saving throw. On a failed save, it takes 3d6 psychic damage and must immediately use its reaction, if available, to move as far as its speed allows away from you. The creature doesn't move into obviously dangerous ground, such as a fire or a pit. On a successful save, the target takes half as much damage and doesn't have to move away. A deafened creature automatically succeeds on the save.

At Higher Levels. When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 2nd level or higher, the damage increases by 1d6 for each slot level above 1st. at level 2

Damage

Cointhief · Thursday at 01:51 AM

Trouble on the Docks... @JubalBreakbottle @PureChance @KingGoblin

The thunderous voice of Rush the Racer accompanied by snaps n' crackles of hot blue static discharge captured the mobs attention. It was certainly newsworthy, and odd, to hear that the Upper City had attacked the Fist. Those elite snobs with their katana-master personal guards had always snubbed the gritty clubbing neanderthal mercs that kept the Lower City in (dis)order. With the hundreds of personal vaults up there filled with diamonds and demonic shields ripe for the plucking, it sounded like pretty good looting to most of the crowd.

But free horses? Well, a horse by itself was worth a fortune, sure. To really use it you'd needed a saddle, feed, bits, bridles...not to mention stable costs, monthly veterinary inspections, grooming kits and special organic horse oils. It would all add up in the prospective looter's bottom line.

After one of them called the Valkuryte out on his bluff, there was a moment of silence Celsior captured to make his appeal, this time to the Crime Lord himself. "Bah, Donald was a twat. Look around elf, city is being destroyed! No one gonna be here to remember me, I'm getting far, far, away from this stink hole and never comin' back!" he blasted back.

Steve the Alien Insectoid took the more direct approach, thwacking people in the back of the head with his cittern as he invaded their minds with undecipherable words. Many noses bled, their virgin psyches being tapped for the time. A few were surprisingly resilient, possessing latent psionics held over from the so-called 'tadpole' incident, setting up wild feedback loops sending graphic illithid imagery scattering back in the waves. More were confused and compliant however, some even taking a soggy knee believing their god was speaking directly to them.

When the party finally makes it to the front line, face to face with the Moondancer and its hostile takeover from the gang of thugs, Traveus scoffs "Ho! What is this, fasion week? Think you're any different than the rest of this lot? Stand back or you'll get a pop just the same. You aren't getting on this ship."

Fight the Blights... @DM-Tareth @Semety

Back in the ruins of Tender Henk's cafe, Yahs and Fred formed humanity's last stand against the invading crystalline blights. Using the ancient magic of halfling rhythm (those booty-shaking beats that proper halfling's never speak of) the tiny scratch from Fred's bolt widened like the fissures in the earth. Beat. Each facet on the creature began to vibrate and rotate, the resonant energy of the decoherent pulses fracturing the heat-stealing beings into finer and finer dust. Beat. It's topaz eyes seemed to lose focus, its movements became random. Beat. It tried stabilizing itself, lashing out with tendrilly whips of star crystal, but the extensions dissipated. Beat. The entity collapsed, every single ionic bond had been broken within the lattice.

*pppffffpff*

Yahs and the roast-lizard vendor that had been ensnared by the vines gasped for air...finding a little surprise instead. The mineral corpse dust had darkened and began to smell very familiar to the plasmoid. The beholders of H'catha were strangely protecting these same stinky crystals.

As Fleet Ensign Yahs pummeled the next in line, Fred zipped down towards the docks, not wanting to take a chance with the annihilating entities. Would Yahs follow or continue the fight? The blight from the astral sea compelled her to stay...again embracing the plasmoid with stellar caress...

ooc: @DM-Tareth You easily passed the last round, but just a reminder plasmoids have an ability giving them advantage on grapple escapes for next time. Also, actually Fred managed to kill the Astral Blight grappling you before your turn came around. So you didn't take the cold damage, only the radiant damage from before. One Astral Blight down, significant damage to the second you are now in melee with. 4 others still destroying at random nearby.

Take 9 radiant from this new round, and 1 cold damage unless you somehow manage to escape before your turn again.

Danger in the Streets... @rauhric

Part of the bay formed a natural moat forming the first line of security for the fortress known as the Counting House. It was a short bridge walk across from a destroyed apothecary, bubbling and sizzling with broken potions and experimental blood-infusions. Oddly, it seemed like the apothecarist's house wasn't damaged from the falling seeds, but had simply always been in such a ruined state...

The double portcullis of the gatehouse was open. Inside was a luxurious public space resembling the finest banks on Earth, with colored marble and gold filigree decorating the line of teller windows. There was broken glass everywhere. Shock waves from the meteoric impacts must have blown out the skylights. There was not a soul in sight.

In the middle of it all stood another strong looking gate, this one slightly ajar and leading downstairs. It sounded like a terrible fight was raging down there. Mumbling curses from magic mouths, evisceration and laceration from cold axe blades, the surprised final shout after a sudden sneak attack. Someone said something like "...take the head, stupid!" and another corrected "...No. Just the eyes..."

To the right, polished granite steps led up to what looked like administrative offices. It seemed much quieter in that direction...

Edited Thursday at 03:26 AM by Cointhief (see edit history)

JubalBreakbottle · Thursday at 10:29 AM

Celsior Loriniscil, Prince of Alfheim

Inspiration Yes | HP 35/35 | HD 5/5d6
StrSave -1

Athletics, proficient +2 8 | Dex 16 | ConSave +2 14 | Int 18 | Wis 10 | Cha 10
Step 2/2 | Shield 1/1 | Bladesong 2/2 | Recovery 4/4
Spells +8 DC 16 | Cantrips | 1st 4/4 | 2nd 2/3 | 3rd 2/2

Celsior frowns when the crime lord stays but smiles as they arrive at the Moondancer, "Aw, I have confidence in you Traevus. You could be the next King Donald... Start by leading your men to abandon this ship and to help everyone except us find shelter as if they were your beloved."

Mechanics

Active spells:

Action: Cast Suggestion DC 16

Edited Thursday at 10:29 AM by JubalBreakbottle (see edit history)

Text_1	Text_2	Text_3	Bold_1	Accent_1	Mood_1
Warm_1	Warm_2	Warm_3	Bold_2	Accent_2	Mood_2
Cool_1	Cool_2	Cool_3	Bold_3	Accent_3	Mood_3
Bright_1	Bright_2	Bright_3	Bold_4	Accent_4	Mood_4

Seeds of Destruction (Part 1)

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