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Chapter III: Death in the Jungle


Gregorotto

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CGncsio.pngNajya

HP:   41/41

AC:   16

Init:  +3

PP:   15

Speed:  45

Ki:  4/4

Condition:  Normal

Features

Class Features:  Unarmored DefenseMartial ArtsKiUnarmored MovementTouch of Death, Slow Fall

Tools:  Alchemist's Supplies

Languages:  Common, Sign Language, Alzhedo, Chultan

Weapons & Armors:  Simple Weapons, Shortswords

Feats:  none

Racial & Background:  Deathless NatureSpider ClimbVampiric BiteShelter of the Faithful

IC

As it is not her place to represent them, Najya moves to the back of the tent to stand beside Brigg. If the bugbear takes issue with this, she does not notice or care. Near as she can tell, they are both servants to others, and so they occupy a similar place. But while Brigg steps aside to allow the others the floor, Najya does so to afford herself with the widest possible view of these new acquaintances. She is not adept at the ins and outs of conversation or negotiation. The subtleties of any language are lost on her. But she was raised to read the language of the body, so as to best predict an opponent's next move. Through gaits, postures, and the tensing of muscles, she can sometimes know a person's intent better than they know it themselves.

OOC

Insight check on Breakbone, Firebeard, and Salhana.

Name
Insight
12
1d20+5 7
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Mariposa-removebg-preview.png.1c1b2e8df2cb5abe5fea4acba3ffccca.pngMariposa

Faun Druid of Dreams (3)


 

checked-shield.svgAC: 17 (Shield) | health-normal.svg HP: 21/21 | awareness.svg PP: 15 | WS: 0/2 | Spell Slots | Insp | Languages: Common, Druidic, Elvish, Sylvan


At her introduction from Story, Mariposa waved at the captain and his entourage with each finger moving individually. She tried her best to pay attention through all of the talking and words, but inevitably she was distracted by a lone fly buzzing around her antlers. The words eventually stop, and she is drawn back into the situation by the following silence, having just barely picked up the captain’s words and the query within them. “Hmm? Oh. I do not know that we need anything from you. We merely found other humanoids and wished to stop in and say hello. Hello! Yet, while we are here, maybe you can enlighten us about what you have learned regarding the Death Curse. That last part — where you said ‘how can you help camp Vengeance’ — I am not sure that we can help — at least, in the long term — unless it works towards our ultimate goal. I think stopping the curse is much more important and, hopefully, would solve all of your problems in the long term anyway.”

 

 When she quoted him, Mariposa took a deeper tone in a failure of an attempt to match his voice. It might have seemed disrespectful if she did not have such a pleasant smile upon her face, along with her playful demeanor. “Hmm, it is sometimes difficult for me to tell if some of my words are rude to Whims. Was that rude? I did not intend it to be so. I merely wish to make certain that whatever help we provide will also help us stop the Death Curse that infects your world.” 

 

OoC

Not sure if I need to roll a ‘not get punched in the face’ roll?

 

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Broxatla Zuberi (Chultan Artificer 3)spacer.png


AC: 16 (18 Shield) |  HP: 27/27 |  Passive Perception: +11FeaturesSpellcasting | Conditions: None


Spells: ○ ○ (1st) | (2nd) | (3rd)

"Out here. Don't get into trouble." Brox motions to a spot off to the side of the tent guards, a place where Beeble can stand and not be in the way. It does beg the question, for those who don't know, whether the metal man is capable of mischief. For his part, Beeble does what is bid of him and posts up out of the path of foot traffic, head pivoting back and forth as movements and sounds catch its attention. Brox doesn't move far from the tent opening himself once inside, choosing to linger just to the side of the flap. He works a bit of mud from the edge of his shield as the words are thrown about, doing his level best not to add any to them. The way Mariposa says 'your world' strikes his ears oddly and he has to take full recognition in that moment that she is not a creature of Chult, nor one of this reality from the sound of it. Strange to find her in the mix of all this when she, at least on the surface, had no real stake in the outcome of this curse.

"To be fair, there was some mention of aiding with the sickness." It is a small contribution and he clearly has to bite back the words that would accompany it. Illness was a prime concern, given that he lacks any particular means to avoid it. He'd been both lucky and careful thus far, but the longer he was stuck in this camp the more he felt he was pressing his luck in that regard. Getting back to Port Nyanzaru would be difficult enough without some seeping, open sored, purulent disease on his shoulders. Back in the comfort of the Temple of Gond, the death curse was not something he'd had to look into the face of but the last couple weeks in the jungle had stripped him of that convenience. As flippant and devil-may-care as he was back home, he'd taken a much more reserved stance on his own safety since leaving and it chafes hard against his nature.


Mechanics

Action: Your action goes here.

Bonus Action: Your action goes here.

Move Action: Your action goes here.

Item Interaction: Your action goes here.

Beeble Stats

     

 

 

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Portrait of Cyrienne

Appearance


Cyrienne

Age 129 | Height 5' 11" (1.80m) | Weight 126 lbs. (57kg) | Hair Copper Red | Eyes Emerald Green | Complexion Pale Bronze

 

Description Cyrienne is a fiery wood elf maiden, with blazing red curls and expressive emerald eyes, and sharp cut features. She is naturally curvier than most elves, but not excessively so.

She wears a green wood elven armour complete with yellow cape. While it is as authentic a wood elf armour as it gets, it does appear to sacrifice some functionality for grace, and some carmouflage for appeal. Nevertheless, it still provides both, along with protection. The silver brooch, which fixates the cloak upon her shoulder, is holy symbol of Sune.

Statblock

Sheet Cyrienne Alenuath | Alignment Chaotic good | Type medium humanoid (elf) | Classes Cleric (Light) 3 | Background Acolyte


Init +3 | AC 15 (leather) | Senses 60' darkvision  | Passive Insight 15; Investigation 9; Perception 15 | Saves Str -1, Dex +3, Con +1, Int -1, Wis +3, Cha +2

Immunities/Resistances

  • Adv. on saving throws vs. magical charms
  • Immune to magical sleep effects

Languages  Common, Elvish, Sylvan


HD 3/3d8HP 15/15 | Warding Flare ☐☐☐ | Channel Divinity  | Arrows 20/20 | Spell Slots I: ☐☐☐ II: ☐☐

 

Underscored: Replenish on long rest | Italic : Replenish on short or long rest. | Numbers count available resources, not used resources. | "☐" indicates an available resource, "☒" used resource.


Status - |  Effects -Concentrating on Detect Poison & Disease | Hands Main -, Off Holy Symbol

 

Durations in rds. denote the remaining rounds after the current one.

Cyrienne Alenuath, Chaotic Good Female Wood Elf Cleric of Sune


Cyrienne walked upright through the camp and tried her best to appear confident, yet the truth was, she was anything but. She had decided to help these people, because, well, it was the graceful thing to do. However, with every step she wondered whether her desire to stand out with her beauty and love and lured everybody into a death trap; everybody but Mariposa that is, Cyrienne was confident that the faun would always find an escape route.

She was still talking to silken handkerchief with a faint scent of rose water when scanned the people in the tent for diseases. Finally, she addressed the paladin of Tyr. "I am Cyrienne Alenuath, priestess devoted to Sune, the Princess of Passion." She sighed and spread her free left hand off in affected gesture. "I must confess, the lack of beauty and grace to this camp is so striking that entering was not an easy decision, however, it seems like the Goddess of Beauty still remembers and sent me to bestow you, through me, with grace." Still speaking through her handkerchief, she seemed even more affected than usual, she was playing the part of the opinion that she suspected the paladin of Tyr already had of her.

"We encountered the undead coming from Port Nyenzaru on the road, so we already suspected an assault on the Camp. However, the remains of Camp Righteous remain undisturbed. Aside from a group of goblins that is. However, they were very mean and couldn't bear the light of her beauty. They're dead now."

"So..." she paused as though she had to think about something she forgot. "By the virtue of beauty and love bestowed upon me, I can cure up to two people of one disease, respectively, provide purified water and make sure your food is free of disease. It's not much, but maybe it can help turn the fate of this camp and return it to grace."

 

OOC

Active light spell, concentrating a 'Detect Poison and Disease Spell'

 

 

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The trio of leaders listen, more than anything, as Story, then Mariposa, then Cyrienne speak, each leader eyeing everyone as they speak. With Brigg and Brox adding comments here and again, reminders to the newcomers of things that had been said and tells to their leaders, Najya stands back, using her keen observation and silence eternal to observe and understand. Breakbone speaks.

"You will forgive my non-chalance, Esthetes—" he notes, using the official title of an ordained priest of Sune, "—but under the circumstances we could not be paid in platinum suns to give a cranium rat's ass about beauty. These are desperate times. We don't have the courtesy of making Camp Vengeance look anything but its name. We're barely surviving as-is." The dwarf Firebeard quickly speaks up. "Wha' th' Whitehawk means t' say, is tha' while we welcome worship 'nd indeed, have had Sunites 'mongst our ranks, we're a militant order focused on creatin' a beachhead 'gainst evil. We've no' the time t' beautify our fort: it barely serves us in protectin' us from th' undead and thunder lizards."

Breakbone nods. "Your healing we will readily accept: we are overburdened by disease. As for the rest of you, we would appreciate anything you have to offer in terms of labor or services you can provide. We, meanwhile, can provide some housing and a ration of food for the duration of your time here, per night. I can also answer your questions, and how our goals do not oppose each other.

"The Death Curse began shortly after our arrival in Port Nyanzaru. We do not have the resources here for true resurrections, barely for reincarnation, but word from our gods tells us of its continuing effects. We rallied what resources we could from the temples in the Port, took our resources, and founded Camp Righteous. Those we lost in those initial weeks, we gave proper burials where we could or burned them if undeath came knocking. Ultimately when the horde came, we lost more than three-fourths of our forces. Those of us who survived came here, and I, as highest ranking member of the Order, became leader. We have survived these last few weeks because we focused on survival, not the Death Curse: but it is paramount we help end it, so we can focus once more on our goal of destroying undeath in Chult. If your expedition is fighting the Death Curse, we can certainly help... but we have so little to offer. And you have so much you can give us, too."

Eku furrows her brow. So does Story. "Beyond healing?"

Breakbone nods. "Beyond healing. We need you to take our sick back to Port Nyanzaru. You can heal the diseases of a few, certainly: but our resources are drained. They can go for healing in Nyanzaru, and return with reinforcements and resources upon their return. That serves us in multiple ways. And we'll need you to do it soon. We'll have to commandeer your canoes, and at least two of you will need to pilot them for us. In return, we'll give you two of our own... why not you two, Brigg and Brox? I know you, Brigg, know Chult well, and you're not one of us: we can call this services rendered. And you, Brox: this is your home. You can help the world by helping your home by finding where this Death Curse is. We don't know where, we don't know what's causing it. The Church of Savras might have answers in the Port, but beyond that, we're outsiders here to destroy hordes of undead. It's not our place to know or care, until it's proven they're one in the same."

Salhana breaks her silence at last. "We could act as a way station for you as well: a safe haven. It's the least we could do."

Breakbone doesn't seem to agree that it's the "least" but certainly things he should be getting more out of this, Najya detects. Both Firebeard and Salhana seem like they think he's asking too much, and indeed, Brigg and Brox know as much. Breakbone is not personable, not a good leader, and a terrible decision maker.

But what is their answer?

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tbf3e91.jpg


Name: Brigg (Baghtu) | Race/Class: Bugbear Barbarian 3 | HP: 32/32 AC: 14 PP: 12


"Services rendered, then," Brigg says with a finality that only one who truly understands the meaning of debt can muster. He glances at each member in the new group. They are a mixed lot. Mariposa with her otherworldly presence, neither rude nor shy, but some wild mix of the two. Cyrienne, with a grace that is nearly antithetical to his own rough-hewn appearance and carry. Another, the One of Shadow Brigg had taken to calling her in his own mind, is a hunter of the most deadly type; silent and underestimated. Each, he felt, had something to offer, something he could learn on his journey to...well, that remained to be seen.

"If they will have me, I will aid this group." A nod, punctiated again with the finality. They would answer with words, but Brigg tends to speak in actions.

"I can guide us to the Church, but we will need a cart to help the ailed. Some cannot walk, and I can only carry two," he said, almost ashamed that he could not carry more. But it was a valid concern, in his eyes. If they were to escort the sick, they would need carriage.

Breakbone's reputation not withstanding, Brigg knew this journey would be treacherous and tried to recall any dangers the Commander was about to send them into, unwittingly or not.

 

OOC

Brigg asks to join the group, and offers a bumbling suggestion about how to move sick people.
 

Quick Nature check so Brigg can try to plan a route to Port Nayazaru and warn the others of dangers they may face.


Action:

Bonus:

Movement:

Name
Nature_Check
10
1d20+3 7
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Portrait of Cyrienne

Appearance


Cyrienne

Age 129 | Height 5' 11" (1.80m) | Weight 126 lbs. (57kg) | Hair Copper Red | Eyes Emerald Green | Complexion Pale Bronze

 

Description Cyrienne is a fiery wood elf maiden, with blazing red curls and expressive emerald eyes, and sharp cut features. She is naturally curvier than most elves, but not excessively so.

She wears a green wood elven armour complete with yellow cape. While it is as authentic a wood elf armour as it gets, it does appear to sacrifice some functionality for grace, and some carmouflage for appeal. Nevertheless, it still provides both, along with protection. The silver brooch, which fixates the cloak upon her shoulder, is holy symbol of Sune.

Statblock

Sheet Cyrienne Alenuath | Alignment Chaotic good | Type medium humanoid (elf) | Classes Cleric (Light) 3 | Background Acolyte


Init +3 | AC 15 (leather) | Senses 60' darkvision  | Passive Insight 15; Investigation 9; Perception 15 | Saves Str -1, Dex +3, Con +1, Int -1, Wis +3, Cha +2

Immunities/Resistances

  • Adv. on saving throws vs. magical charms
  • Immune to magical sleep effects

Languages  Common, Elvish, Sylvan


HD 3/3d8HP 15/15 | Warding Flare ☐☐☐ | Channel Divinity  | Arrows 20/20 | Spell Slots I: ☐☐☐ II: ☐☐

 

Underscored: Replenish on long rest | Italic : Replenish on short or long rest. | Numbers count available resources, not used resources. | "☐" indicates an available resource, "☒" used resource.


Status - |  Effects -Concentrating on Detect Poison & Disease | Hands Main -, Off Holy Symbol

 

Durations in rds. denote the remaining rounds after the current one.

Cyrienne Alenuath, Chaotic Good Female Wood Elf Cleric of Sune


Cyrienne had snapped to Breakbone on his initial retort. In a sudden outburst of fury, she spit back with poisonous glowing eyes: “You won’t win over the Goddess favour by rejecting the goddess gift; holding on to beauty is always worthwhile, even in the face of death.” Her sudden fury faded quickly though. With merely a hint of arrogance she posed and waved a hand dismissively, just as a human noble woman might over a servant’s uneducated foolishness: “However, I will help rectify the situation.”

She listened to the suggested course of action with scepticism. A little meekly she admitted: “If you’re people are struck with the curse… I am afraid there is little I can do. I can heal mundane diseases, not the Death Curse. For all I know, nobody can resurrect those who died to the curse, not the high priestess of my own cult, nor that of Kelemvor – the souls remain entrapped by the curse even after death and without the soul, none can be brought back to life.” She gave a slightly confused look to Firebeard – as a priest of Moradin, he knew all that as well as she did. The look she gave to Breakbone was no less confused, as she wasn’t quite sure what he was suggesting. “And I am afraid we cannot interrupt our journey for long enough for you to organise a logistic chain to Port Nyenzaru. I am not sure whether that is particularly wise, anyway. Prince Wakanga has no love for you. You might be better off trying to establish good relations with the peoples of the jungle – the Aarakocra feared you, which is why they avoid contact. First impressions are important.”

She nodded to Brigg’s suggestion. “I would like to see the sick, so I may do Sune’s work. As for you…” she gave him a long, measuring look, but the playful smirk around her lips betrayed her feigned scepticism as a tease. “The help of a healthy and strong companion would be welcome if you’re loyal to the team. Why come with us rather than return to Port Nyenzaru?” She sniffed a little, so to pick up his smell... and immediately regretted it as the stench of the camp nearly overwhelmed her.

 

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Mariposa-removebg-preview.png.1c1b2e8df2cb5abe5fea4acba3ffccca.pngMariposa

Faun Druid of Dreams (3)


 

checked-shield.svgAC: 17 (Shield) | health-normal.svg HP: 21/21 | awareness.svg PP: 15 | WS: 0/2 | Spell Slots | Insp | Languages: Common, Druidic, Elvish, Sylvan


The sudden retort from Cyrienne caused Mariposa’s brows to raise. She swiftly moved over towards the priestess of beauty and stood near her, placing a comforting hand on the Elf’s shoulder. At times, the Fey struggled to understand the unspoken language of the Whims; body language was a complicated dialect to learn, especially when the one spoken in the Feywild was so drastically different. But she knew enough that Cyrienne would not deny her touch, and she knew the gesture of comforting another without being overly expressive, like she wanted to be.

Mari listened to various leaders of the camp with bright, blinking eyes tinged with a mixture of both green and blue hues. When Brox mentioned their promise to heal, the Fey Faun nodded towards the local with a growing smile on her thin, pink lips. “Oh yes, of course! I meant beyond healing. It should be known that both Cyrienne and I are akin to a tide of healing ocean waters. Once we arrive, joy and healing follow in our wake, backed by the unstoppable force of our friends.” She looked around at her allies as she said the last part. But when there is mention of returning to Port Nyanzaru she frowns, looking between Cyrienne and Breakbone as they share words. “Yes, Cyrienne has made a point worth considering, although I do not think bringing your ill to the Aaracokra will make them very happy. It just seems such a shame to return to Nyanzaru after such a long journey to get here. What is more, we will be returning with empty hands. Perhaps not literally, as we will be towing a bunch of sick Whims behind us…but I think it will be considered empty handed by our patron.” 

The Faun anxiously shuffled her hooves in place while attempting to plan out the logistics of their travel and how much time might be lost towards their goal in this return trip. While she was appreciative of the Captain’s offer of housing and food, she felt no need to express such, as it was appropriate to offer that whenever one was visiting. Back in her home realm, whether you were hosting for your closest friend or your worst enemy, you always provided lodging and, if possible, a feast. It was just the way of things, and going against that tradition could be a dangerous thing.

In return for their service, they are offered two more to join in their cause. Brigg and Brox; two seemingly-strong individuals to help in their quest. “Oh, you are most certainly welcome amongst us if you share our values. I will need to think of appropriate play names for both of you. We should throw a celebration for gaining more friends!” She suddenly paused, looked around for Danuse, frowned, and turned back to the situation at hand, “…And perhaps a well wishing to those that have departed.” She wiggled her rounded button nose and looked back to Captain Breakbone with a smile.

 

OoC

Nothing to see here.

 

Edited by Spektor (see edit history)
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Broxatla Zuberi (Chultan Artificer 3)spacer.png


AC: 16 (18 Shield) |  HP: 27/27 |  Passive Perception: +11FeaturesSpellcasting | Conditions: None


Spells: ○ ○ (1st) | (2nd) | (3rd)

Brox doesn't exactly love the idea of being shuffled around like a game piece, but he dislikes this camp and it's leadership even more so he bites back any initial argument. The possibility of returning to the city is met with apprehension as he considers how long it might take for people to forgive certain breaches in behavior. When the group makes argument against returning he folds his arms over his chest and studies Breakbone's reaction. He'd only known the man a brief time but it had been long enough to know he wasn't fond of being questioned. Perhaps, if they were travelling further into the jungle instead of back to the city, he might well be better off travelling with these new faces. There would certainly be better scenery and far less likelihood of contracting a debilitating plague. Brigg, for his part, seems to have no complaints with the change in their situation and if the bugbear is good with it, who is he to complain?

"Since I'm being offered up for this trip, might I ask where specifically you all aim to go? Did this patron provide you a specific destination or will we be wandering the jungle aimlessly?" He doesn't have to struggle with the question of return to Port Nyanzaru or not, that's clearly the business of these new faces and Breakbone. Being unburdened by the pressures of leadership is a convenient aspect of his current role in the camp. Either Breakbone will concede or the women will, but either result will put distance between himself and this camp. Self-interest is, after all, his favorite kind of interest.


Mechanics

Action: Your action goes here.

Bonus Action: Your action goes here.

Move Action: Your action goes here.

Item Interaction: Your action goes here.

Beeble Stats

     

 

 

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The three leaders of the camp look to one another with Cyrienne's admonishment, but it is the silent Salhana who speaks. "Don't mistake our lack of beautification as an abandonment. You do not dress up a sword with ribbon before you drive it home: let it do its purpose first. We keep our beauty in our hearts, in the form of hope: let us first persevere before we meddle with something so comically unnecessary as beauty. Beauty is found in action, not in decoration: or have you Sunites truly lost all your senses?"

Breakbone tactfully clears his throat, and continues. "You misunderstand: we are affected by the Death Curse as anyone is, but that is not the disease that ails our people here. It simply prevents us from resurrecting our dead from Camp Righteous and those who have died of disease. Elsewhere, there would be priests aplenty to treat even common diseases. But here? With the thread of thunder lizard and undeath? We are barely getting by between our spells and our spells. As for you taking our sick to Port Nyanzaru, I'm afraid I must insist—"

And then Cora perks up. "We'll take them. Beacon and I, I mean." The fire genasi steps forward with the gnome, looking at one another; is there a glint in their gaze that Cyrienne, Najya, and Mariposa detect? "We can compromise without the need for further conflict. Cyrienne and Mariposa are accomplished healers: let them work on who they can. The ones who can't we'll take back to the Port on our own, and report back our progress to our patroness. There, no reason to further fight. Besides, Cora and I wouldn't mind the break, and I know Najya has no love of water. You lot continue on to... your destination, and we'll carry on and from there, we'll send messages from Syndra to you about next steps and what our plans are."

Firebeard seizes the moment. "Well, no complaints 'ere. Brigg, ye seem keen t'join'em 'nd replace these two. Brox... ask yer questions 'nd decide fer yerself. I think we've done our bus'ness 'ere. We'll let ye get to yer healin' and at dawn, yer friends 'ere'll set a course fer Nyanzaru." He nods to Eku and bows to the rest; Breakbone does the same shortly after. Salhana does not, giving Cyrienne a glare before turning to the map of Chult beneath her, looking at it carefully and trying to clear her mind.

Once outside the tent, Story lets out a heavy sigh. "Tense times. They do not seem like they mean to be cruel, but then, I am not sure it is wise to critique our hosts of their decorum or devotion to a god they are not sworn to if we are to make allies. But come, Brox, to your question: we seek an Oracle who can provide an answer to our quarry. We seek to end the origin of the Death Curse." Eku nods. "She will know where, and perhaps she alone."

Story then turns to their companions Beacon and Cora. "And are you two certain about leaving?"

Cora laughs. "No, but it was the only way I could see through it. I understand men like Breakbone: tons of them in the Watch and Guard in Waterdeep. Well-meaning but walking on airs. We're not on a place that can afford airs, as that Salhana lady said. His leadership is faltering, so the critique as much applies to him as to Cyrienne's reminder of Sune's gifts. Still, maybe I have room in mind for some of those gifts. We'll take the sick and some guards and go up-river as space allows. Should take us about half as long as it took us to get here, since we'll be going with the current. We'll use magic to reach you. Don't worry, we'll get supplies and meet back up with you. May even bring our halfling pirate friend!"

Now there's a thought.

Story sighs. "Then we should see what healing we can do, rest up, and then prepare our route to the oracle. Eku, you can fill in Brox and Brigg and see what resources they will bring us as we head west. I will help Cyrienne and Mariposa with what magic I can; Beacon and Cora, see what provisions you'll be taking and what guards will be necessary. Najya... why don't you see what you can find out around camp? Perhaps there is more than meets the eye here."

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CGncsio.pngNajya

HP:   41/41

AC:   16

Init:  +3

PP:   15

Speed:  45

Ki:  4/4

Condition:  Normal

Features

Class Features:  Unarmored DefenseMartial ArtsKiUnarmored MovementTouch of Death, Slow Fall

Tools:  Alchemist's Supplies

Languages:  Common, Sign Language, Alzhedo, Chultan

Weapons & Armors:  Simple Weapons, Shortswords

Feats:  none

Racial & Background:  Deathless NatureSpider ClimbVampiric BiteShelter of the Faithful

IC

When Cora announces that she and Beacon will be returning to Port Nyanzaru, Najya makes a silent calculation as to how this may affect her ability to safeguard the rest. Both are physically weaker than average, but they carry great power within them and had proven themselves brave and capable. She ultimately judges that their absence would be a detriment. However, the two will be replaced by the large hairy one and the one served by the metal man. These two are physically larger than both Cora and Beacon, and thus they may be less fragile. However, they are unknowns. Could they be cowards? Could they be traitorous? Until Najya knows their true intentions, she must consider them a possible threat to their mission. She will watch them closely.

Later, when the group begins to discuss healing the sick or ferrying them back with Cora and Beacon, the monk's thoughts turn to practical realities. While some may be cured by Cyrienne or Mariposa, and some may last long enough to reach the city, there are still others who will not be saved by either measure. For these, there is but one realistic outcome, and she offers it:

image.png.5592338610bd35adeb8feb1a2cd204f1.png

image.png.b913baf49c07a91f18dc715b006145ec.png

OOC

I'll also do a Perception check as we wander the camp.

Name
Perception
17
1d20+5 12
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Broxatla Zuberi (Chultan Artificer 3)spacer.png


AC: 16 (18 Shield) |  HP: 27/27 |  Passive Perception: +11FeaturesSpellcasting | Conditions: None


Spells: ○ ○ (1st) | (2nd) | (3rd)

"An oracle?" Brox falls in step with the others as they filter out of the tent, giving Beeble the 'follow' sign as he navigates up near Story. It isn't much, even if they had more information they were holding out on giving to him, but this group had managed to make their way all the way out here without a squad of soldiers among them so they had to have something working on their side. He didn't much fancy his own chances out in the jungle, but sticking around this camp didn't offer a lot of a lot in the way of possibilities either. When the cat man pawns them off on Eku, Brox staps the shield onto his back and the yklwa over it.

"Well, don't get the wrong idea about me being here. I'm no soldier. Spent most of my life in the temple of Gond but I'm no priest either." Kicking a bit of muck off his boot, he watches the others disappear into the medical tent. A place he'd been doing his level best to avoid. Being this close to it makes his skin crawl and he pulls the enchanted face wrap higher over his nose, drawing in the smell of mint. "I've done some militia work and I can handle myself in a fight but I prefer it not be a straight one. Got a head for magic and a good grasp of science. Lot of theory on the local flora and fauna, too, but not much practical application." Throwing an arm over Beeble's shoulder, he tips his head in the direction of the mechanical man. "Beeble here does alright in a scrap, too." With that, he turns to Brigg and gives him a nod to indicate the bugbear should step in.


Mechanics

Action: Your action goes here.

Bonus Action: Your action goes here.

Move Action: Your action goes here.

Item Interaction: Your action goes here.

Beeble Stats

     

 

 

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Portrait of Cyrienne

Appearance


Cyrienne

Age 129 | Height 5' 11" (1.80m) | Weight 126 lbs. (57kg) | Hair Copper Red | Eyes Emerald Green | Complexion Pale Bronze

 

Description Cyrienne is a fiery wood elf maiden, with blazing red curls and expressive emerald eyes, and sharp cut features. She is naturally curvier than most elves, but not excessively so.

She wears a green wood elven armour complete with yellow cape. While it is as authentic a wood elf armour as it gets, it does appear to sacrifice some functionality for grace, and some carmouflage for appeal. Nevertheless, it still provides both, along with protection. The silver brooch, which fixates the cloak upon her shoulder, is holy symbol of Sune.

Statblock

Sheet Cyrienne Alenuath | Alignment Chaotic good | Type medium humanoid (elf) | Classes Cleric (Light) 3 | Background Acolyte


Init +3 | AC 15 (leather) | Senses 60' darkvision  | Passive Insight 15; Investigation 9; Perception 15 | Saves Str -1, Dex +3, Con +1, Int -1, Wis +3, Cha +2

Immunities/Resistances

  • Adv. on saving throws vs. magical charms
  • Immune to magical sleep effects

Languages  Common, Elvish, Sylvan


HD 3/3d8HP 15/15 | Warding Flare ☐☐☐ | Channel Divinity  | Arrows 20/20 | Spell Slots I: ☐☐☐ II: ☐☐

 

Underscored: Replenish on long rest | Italic : Replenish on short or long rest. | Numbers count available resources, not used resources. | "☐" indicates an available resource, "☒" used resource.


Status - |  Effects -Concentrating on Detect Poison & Disease | Hands Main -, Off Holy Symbol

 

Durations in rds. denote the remaining rounds after the current one.

Cyrienne Alenuath, Chaotic Good Female Wood Elf Cleric of Sune


Cyrienne seems slightly irritated by a few of the remarks and remains watchful - she doesn't really trust any of these people. To Brox, she cast a curious smile, though - she didn't really know what to say, but she wanted him to know that he was invited.

"I will do what I can help then; to fight the disease and restore beauty and grace." Cyrienne tenderly took Mariposa's hand of her shoulder but kept holding it when she turned to the entrance of the tent. She intended to find out on her own how she could be most useful in helping - first making sure she had clean water and cloths if she had to.

 

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Mariposa-removebg-preview.png.1c1b2e8df2cb5abe5fea4acba3ffccca.pngMariposa

Faun Druid of Dreams (3)


 

checked-shield.svgAC: 17 (Shield) | health-normal.svg HP: 21/21 | awareness.svg PP: 15 | WS: 0/2 | Spell Slots | Insp | Languages: Common, Druidic, Elvish, Sylvan


Mariposa widens her eyes at Salhana’s response to Cyrienne and quickly looks between the two of them. She raises her hand outward, as if to stave off a strong blow coming in her direction. “Forgive my interruption, but it may be important to know this! Cyrienne is beautiful; she embodies beauty in every aspect. But she is also beautiful in her righteous fury and power. As much as I enjoy seeing it, I do not wish to see it here! You silly whims and your arguments about your gods…” She trails off with a playful giggle before becoming immediately distracted by something in the corner of the room. 

 

It is decided that Cora and Beacon will return with the sick ones to Port Nayanzaru, and to Mari, this is the perfect outcome. She has kept an eye on the two and their possibly blossoming love interest with a mirthful  yet distant appreciation. Perhaps the flower of their admiration would bloom during their trek. The journey back to the Port would be a perilous one, but she is confident in their abilities to, at the very least, stay out of sight and avoid danger. “If this is to be the way things go, I wish you such good fortune on your journeys. Be sure to stay extra close to each other and avoid trouble!” She says, with an insinuating wink.

 

As instructed, Mariposa begins to root through her pack for the proper materials to prepare for healing the sick as they all depart the tent. She catches sight of Najya's hand movements and, after a moment, deciphers what she is intending to say…at least mostly. “Oh, I believe Eclipse means that she will end their life, so that they are not in pain.” She puckers her lips in thought as she mulls over the moral implications of such an action. Morality was always a volatile subject when comparing the Fey’s viewpoints against the views of the Whims. “Disease is a part of nature, even if it is an ugly one. To end their suffering seems to take away the natural death that has been offered to them and make it an unnatural one. But…it would also end their suffering. Hmm, I think such a decision would be best left up to the fleeting morality of whims. I will heal whoever I am able to.” She smiled brightly, a stark contrast given the dismal nature of the conversation.

They arrive at the medical tent and Mariposa giggles playfully as she spots Brox pull the scarf over his face. The smell does not seem to bother the Faun in the slightest. In one hand she holds a brown, animal-skin pouch with a drawstring at its top. She offers the pouch towards Brox and any others who may be struggling from the smell. “Breathe deep, silly whim. Lavender, Clove, Rosemary, and lemongrass — it is a purifying mixture that will clear your sinuses.” She says with a bright smile. When Brox mentions his metal-man, Mariposa cannot help but look in the construct’s direction, “Oh, hello Curiosity! Useful in a scrap, he says. But I think you are useful without being scrapped, and very adorable!” She giggles happily and looks towards the medical tent. “It is time for me to play with these new friends. I will be back when the deed is done.” With that, she looks to Cyrienne for confirmation that she is ready, and then enters the tent with the priestess.

 

OoC

I can cast Lesser Restoration three times, then I will roll a medicine check to handle any remaining diseased individuals.

 

Name
Medicine
6
1d20+4 2
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Name: Brigg (Baghtu) | Race/Class: Bugbear Barbarian 3 | HP: 32/32 AC: 14 PP: 12


There was a lot of talk. To Brigg, this meant there was little action. Still, he must constant remind himself to be patient lest his aggression get the best of him and he end up in another place where he does not have the freedom to simply leave. This was, for all he saw, how the world worked and if he was to be a willing part of it, he must accept that jaws will wag from time to time. He sighed audibly at the thought.

Perhaps he wished he had more to say. Best not dwell on that.

 

The group seemed willing to take him on, particularly Mariposa, which marked her as odd. The One of Shadow, whom the faun referred to as "Eclipse" uses signs to communicate, and Brigg understands them, to a degree. There were many in The Network that used such methods to speak while in the slaver camps, silent and subtle. He took note of "Eclipse's" preferred method of communication, as it may come in handy. She keeps to herself and works from the periphery. In Brigg's experience, those were the folk you could trust, especially when it came to doing the right thing. As for the rest, they talked too much.

But sometimes it was amusing.

Brigg catches Brox's nod and returns with one of his own, accompanied by a smirk and soft chuckle. "Not my type," he informed Brox, picking up on the not so subtle hints, both verbal and non, "but the work beckons. We will focus and be clear of this place. Come, assist me in gathering supplies. Do you need anything to aid your work, Cyrienne?" It was his way of both keeping things on track and deflecting for Brox, best as he understood. Nobody would ever say Brigg's strengths lay in social cues.

----
 

"Walk West with wit," Brigg intoned as they readied to head out in search of the Oracle. It was an old phrase, one he had picked up from Gloriel Fellweather. The old woman had a fierce spirit and a sharp mind that tended to be full of aphorisms. He found himself wondering what she would do in this sitaution and decided that their path was true. Pausing, he thought back to his time under her wing and his treks through the jungle to recall anything he knew about this Oracle they saught.

 

OOC


Action:

Bonus:

Movement:

Name
History
17
1d20+1 16
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