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Pre-Game RP Thread: The Wightwatcher Inn


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 edwin.png.9e7aa006584a2cff53e8d5686b6462ba.png

Edwin Carver

Human Noble, Paladin


AC: 18 (Chainmail + Shield) | HP: 13/13 (1d10+3) | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 9

 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 10 (+0) | Con: 16 (+3) | Int: 9 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 16 (+3)

Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, Elvish, and Dwarfish


Edwin pales at Lady Amelia's description of Barovia. He listens to the details with horror not really appreciating what he had back at home. Instead, there are people here who literally do not know if they will see another sunrise. If you had asked him three months ago, he would have felt bad and then taken another drink instead, now, it is happening to him! Would he be one of these...lessers fighting off bats and rats to to get a decent night's sleep? He can scarcely remember sleeping on his soft bed with silken pillow cases and down goose bedding to fight off the cold on winter nights. No, now he's in a land where the undead walk freely, and even good men...and women, must accept this as normal.

He manages to respond to her saying, "You certainly live an interesting life, Lady Amelia. And I would agree that Falkovia is far better than having a creature stalking you in the dark, waiting to rend your soul. At least these are just zombies. Okay, there are many of them, but they are just simple undead, right?"

He pauses a moment, thinks about the pale-skinned drow's comment, and says, "I don't know how skittish folks are about facing the living dead. I am not one of them, but I understand it. Where I come from, the biggest scandal to worry about is getting caught with a lady from the wrong noble house or paying a cleric to address...issues that result from a rowdy night at the brothel. Life is a little more interesting when you must worry about getting murdered to get water from the well."

Edwin looks up to the tall woman, who smells like a forest floor, as she towers over him by a solid foot. He asks, "You can see the future? Or are you skilled at predicting the weather?"

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Name: Ameila Grey | Class: Fighter | Level: 1 | AC: 16 | HP: 12 | Prof: +2
Saves: Str +4, Dex +4, Con +4, Int -1, Wis +2, Cha -2

Fighting Style, Second Wind
Attacks: Pistols, Rapier
Passive: Perception - 14 | Investigation - 10 | Insight - 14
Languages, Darkvision, Fey Ancestry

"I suspect she is a little of both.." The paladin's tale does seem to be a little more upbeat than some, but it seemed that they were all in the same boat now.. "I suppose you could wander into the mists again and hope you return home.. But this seems a very.. unlikely scenario. "

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Maria Fireheart

9 year old child wizard and sage, Fugitive red wizard in training


AC: 10 (No armor) | HP: 7/7 (1d6+1) | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 15, Insight 15, Investigation 16
Str: 11 (+0) | Dex: 11 (+0) | Con: 12 (+1) | Int: 19 (+4) | Wis: 16 (+3) | Cha: 13 (+1)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, and Elvish


"Can you tell me more about your former home? What was it like living there? How was it so terrible that you do not want to return?", Maria says with a hint of curiousity and compassion.

 

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Marleybone Drisk

 

The twiggy teenager's eyebrows go up. "Terrible?" She thinks for a moment and shakes her head, the motion sending the edges of the scarf and her hair twitching and shivering in every direction. "It weren't terrible." She stops and thinks for a moment. Was it terrible? It was lonely, sure, and she didn't like it much. All those voices that would stop when she entered a room. "I mean, it weren't especially terrible." She stops and thinks again. "Not more than anywhere else?" The copper miners certainly hadn't seemed especially happy when they'd gone past the village.

"I just don't to end up there again." She frowns. This getting help was difficult. But then, perhaps this was just the price of getting information from a book-haver? They'd ask questions. "It would be like..." Both hands clasp in front of her as she drops into the chair again, the frown remaining as she concentrates. "..like i'd finished my journey? And I couldn't leave again. I'd be there for the rest of my days after that." She shakes her head in negation. "And I don't want that."

"As for living there..." Again there's a bit of a struggle. What is there to talk about? The daily life, the grey world and the grey conversations, the crisp sharpness of the woods and the faint lingering feelings of unease. The mountain. "It was just a village, I guess?" Her eyes dart around the room as she thinks, giving off a strangely furtive air for someone so completely gormless and unguarded. "There was no-one my age though, so I spent a lot of time in the woods with kiirrit." The eyes eventually end up on the little kid sitting across the table. "That's one of the perks of going to the outside world, finally having someone younger than me to boss around." She grins unexpectedly at that, revealing a completely different and changed look, like that one expression brightens everything about her appearance for a moment before it is gone.

Edited by Rejakor (see edit history)
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token_1.png.fec0f7d2d711846c01a4487a43f3d81b.png
Name: Ilian Drakar | Class: Wizard | Level: 1 | AC: 11 | HP: 8 | Prof: +2
Saves: Str +1, Dex +1, Con +2, Int +4, Wis +2, Cha +1

Spell casting, Arcane Recovery
Attacks: Fire Bolt, Dagger
Passive: Perception - 10 | Investigation - 12 | Insight - 12
Languages, Spell Book, Elemental Adept

Ilian had been trudging for 3 days through the mud and the muck. Ever since being brought to this forsaken realm he has had a slew of misfortunes befall him. If not only the denizens, the weather also seemed to hate the existence of life and Ilian had lost his footing on the muddy roads more than once. His body was battered and his mind weary when he found a building come upon him on the horizon. Once reaching it he breathed a sigh of relief as he heard voices, hopefully friendly voices.

Making his way inside he was welcomed by the smell of food, the nearby chatter, and the warmth of it all. Dusting himself off, Ilian made his way over to the bar, making sure to first knock the mud off of his boots before stepping inside. "Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?" Ilian asked to whoever was behind the counter.

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Edwin Carver

Human Noble, Paladin


AC: 18 (Chainmail + Shield) | HP: 13/13 (1d10+3) | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 9

 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 10 (+0) | Con: 16 (+3) | Int: 9 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 16 (+3)

Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, Elvish, and Dwarfish


Edwin gives Lady Amelia a long stare and then finally says, "I did try to go back into the mists. I ended up right back here. It took me a week to work up the nerve. I figured if I walked through a fog to get here, I should be able to go back through it. But here I am. Maybe the gods are telling me I'm needed here. Perhaps there's something I am meant to do to help these people."

The paladin scarcely believes his own words. His faith in Torm has never been very strong, but it's starting to grow on him. Somehow being a paladin is now more than just being one of elite of the faith. It was more about being in a group within a group. He was someone special, and beyond being a nobleman. But these two months in Falkonvia have challenged his faith and he's had to start to be someone he wasn't before...someone better....

Edited by Shadeus (see edit history)
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Name: Ameila Grey | Class: Fighter | Level: 1 | AC: 16 | HP: 12 | Prof: +2
Saves: Str +4, Dex +4, Con +4, Int -1, Wis +2, Cha -2

Fighting Style, Second Wind
Attacks: Pistols, Rapier
Passive: Perception - 14 | Investigation - 10 | Insight - 14
Languages, Darkvision, Fey Ancestry

"Well, i dearly hope that your god can hear you here, because i believe you may need them.." She herself didn't sound so sure.. "As for myself, i wouldn't risk the mists again, this place isn't home.. but it could be a lot worse.."

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Privet Beccari
Firbolg Druid

Chaotic Good Hermit

The Witch of the Pale Wood


AC: 15 (Leather & Shield) | HP: 10/10 (1d8+2) | Speed: 30'
Senses: Passive Perception 14, Insight 14, Investigation 11
Str: 11 (+0) | Dex: 14 (+2) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 12 (+1) | Wis: 18 (+4) | Cha: 12 (+1)
Languages: Common, Druidic, Giant, Sylvan


 

On 8/28/2023 at 1:59 PM, Shadeus said:

Edwin looks up to the tall woman, who smells like a forest floor, as she towers over him by a solid foot. He asks, "You can see the future? Or are you skilled at predicting the weather?"


"Neither, Sir..." The r rolls curiously on Privet's tongue as she realizes she does not know the knight's name... and, after a long moment, sighs and shrugs. "Neither. I am born of Falkovnia. The soil, the soot, the sky... they speak to me. They say the mists will not fall this next day. Perhaps." She seems to ever favor that word. Falkovnia, Barovia, all the domains are places ruled by many perhaps. Many terrible, horrible perhaps. Of course, to rage against them? One might as well rage against a river for flowing where it will. These wanderers are foolish. They will learn the ways and settle. Or they will die.

When the companions speak of wandering into the mists, the young woman clucks and shakes her head. "No no no. Do not say such fool things, they make chickens laugh. The mists bring the dead to us and bring wanderers away. The dead are horrid, yes, but are they the worst that you can find in the mist? ...we shall see one day maybe, but for now, I will take a night of horror and many days of harsh living. The land provides if you ask." She says, firm and convinced.

 

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Falken Windriver Falken Windriver

Human Folk Hero, Fighter


AC: 16 (Leather) | HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 14, Insight 12, Investigation 12
Str: 14 (+2) | Dex: 1 (+4) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 14 (+2) | Wis: 15 (+2) | Cha: 11 (+0)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, and Elvish


Falken listens to the conversation, drink in hand, but turns towards the latest newcomer, Ilian. "Ah, I see you're new here!", he says in a friendly tone. "This is the Wightwatcher Inn, but you're probably referring to the land. Let me guess: you were enveloped in a sudden mist and you found yourself here?"

"This land is called Falkovnia. I wish I could say it's a great place, but it's not. Undeads appear every so often. Most of the land is a graveyard. You'll find only one city remaining, Lekar. Life there is harsh at best, and punishment is swift and final. You can try to get out through the mist, but most who try either find themselves back here, or dead. Of course, we wouldn't know if the rest actually make it, but I suspect it's just that their bodies are never recovered."

He pauses for a moment, returning his eyes on Maria, then walks over to her table. "I hope that this man's offer to help is genuine, but if you allow me one bit of advice, don't depend on others." He put his drink on the table. "But it looks like you're already on that path. A wizard, right?" Reaching for a pocket, he takes out a small book, and opens it before the young girl. The pages do not contain what a wizard would call a magic formula, but it does contains scribbled notes and sketches showing movements, components, and words that are familiar to a wizard. "My wi..." He stops before finishing the word "wife", drinks from his mug, then restarts. "Someone once tried to show me the basics of magic. I'm not hoping to become a wizard myself, but I sure would like to learn a few useful things. I still haven't mastered any of it, tough..."

 

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Maria Fireheart

9 year old child wizard and sage, Fugitive red wizard in training


AC: 10 (No armor) | HP: 7/7 (1d6+1) | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 15, Insight 15, Investigation 16
Str: 11 (+0) | Dex: 11 (+0) | Con: 12 (+1) | Int: 19 (+4) | Wis: 16 (+3) | Cha: 13 (+1)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, and Elvish


"Sorry.", Maria says to the Marlaybone, "I misunderstood what you meant."

 

She merely shrugs at her comments about bossing her around. When the man in leather armor approaches and asks for her help she simply states, "It usually takes a long time to learn magic. My momma taught me since I was six and even though some say I am a very fast learner I could never understand why people call me a prodigy. I can only cast two spells a day, except Cantrips which I can easily cast at will."

 

Edited by SerakHawk
Image Removed (see edit history)
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token_1.png.fec0f7d2d711846c01a4487a43f3d81b.png
Name: Ilian Drakar | Class: Wizard | Level: 1 | AC: 11 | HP: 8 | Prof: +2
Saves: Str +1, Dex +1, Con +2, Int +4, Wis +2, Cha +1

Spell casting, Arcane Recovery
Attacks: Fire Bolt, Dagger
Passive: Perception - 10 | Investigation - 12 | Insight - 12
Languages, Spell Book, Elemental Adept

Ilian looked over in the direction of a friendly voice that traced itself to a rugged man who looked just as rough as the story he told of this new place. Ilian sighed, a confirmation of the man's guess, a strange mist, and now Ilian was here. He rubbed his head as he listened and decided to walk over.

"Well thank you," Ilian extended a stained white gloved hand. "My name is Ilian Drakar. Excuse my confusion but you said Falkovnia? I have never heard of such a place." Ilian then looked at the child. Where in the many realms had he been brought to? "Mind my prying but did you both end up here the same way as well?"

 

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Falken Windriver Falken Windriver

Human Folk Hero, Fighter


AC: 16 (Leather) | HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 14, Insight 12, Investigation 12
Str: 14 (+2) | Dex: 1 (+4) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 14 (+2) | Wis: 15 (+2) | Cha: 11 (+0)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, and Elvish


"Well," Falken says to Maria with a smile, "you're already way ahead of me and I've been at it longer than you have been alive!" The man's attitude has become friendlier in the presence of Maria. He gets back up, and returns the book to the pocket it was before. Smiling, he adds: "I think you'll be a great wizard!"

He picks up his drink and brings it to his lips, but stops short of drinking, looking at Maria for a moment, then down at his drink again. Another look at the young girl, and he lowers his drink, before finally turning to Ilian. He switches his mug to his left hand, then extends his right hand: "I'm Falken. Falken Windriver."

After a brief handshake, he continues: "Yes, I, like many others, were snatched from our familiar lands by a strange mist. And we had never heard of Falkovnia before either. But here we are..." He glances at his mug once more, then finally drinks.

 

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ai.generated_art.photo-art-1693800261377.png2.jpg.e058d294ef6ac9e1d59de9e40be6ba41.jpgHarin Avosi

Half-elf Sage, College of Lore Bard


AC: 16 (Leather, Shield) | HP: 14/14 (1d8) | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 14, Insight 14, Investigation 11
Str: 7 (-2) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 12 (+1) | Wis: 14 (+2) | Cha: 18 (+4)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, Elvish, Dwarvish, Gnomish, and Halfling


A man comes down the stairs slowly and deliberately, his eyes unfocused, lost in thought. He pauses a couple steps up from the landing for a moment before his eyes regain their focus as he finishes his thought. He continues into the large room, noticing for the 1st time how many people are there. He sees a couple people he has seen around the inn before and many new faces, including children. 'There is Falken,' he notices the hunter, 'perhaps he brought some game.'

Harin walks to the bar, "Hello Kazzador. Do you mind bringing an ale and a bowl of stew?" He lays his coin on the bar and walks over to where Falken is speaking with a man he has never seen before. The man looks as if he's just come from a battlefield.

"Falken! It's been a while. Did you bring anything tasty? Who are your friends?" he gestured at the soldier, but was especially curious about the children. Where were their parents? Not that orphans are so rare in a place like this.

 

OOC

Movement: —

Action: —

Bonus Action: —

Reaction: —

   I don’t always have OOC content to post, but if I did, it would go here, below the Movement, Action, Bonus Action, and Reaction (which will always be there). Those need to contain the mechanical explanation of your otherwise natural language post.


 

Edited by zaffo (see edit history)
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Falken Windriver Falken Windriver

Human Folk Hero, Fighter


AC: 16 (Leather) | HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 14, Insight 12, Investigation 12
Str: 14 (+2) | Dex: 1 (+4) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 14 (+2) | Wis: 15 (+2) | Cha: 11 (+0)
Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common, and Elvish


Putting his mug down back at the bar, Falken notices Harin's familiar face, to which he acknowledged his presence bug lifting his mug in salute. "Hello my friend!", he sais in Elvish, but continues in Common: "I did catch 2 rabbits. I left them for that Kobold cook."

Motioning to the others in the room, he adds: "This is Ilian; he recently arrived here and is still confused as to what happened. Maria over there! Don't underestimate her - she's quite brilliant for her age. She's under the protection of..." He motions towards Rak'i'th: "... him? I'm sorry sir, I didn't catch your name and I'm afraid I never encountered your species before!"

He looks at the rest of the room, sighs, then returns to Harin. "I just got here a few minutes ago, so I haven't met everyone yet."

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Caldir.png.74953eeb7643dee30fe8d1259b9b2468.png Caldir Balbroth

Crystal Dragonborn, Lorehold Student, Cleric of the Grave


AC: 15 (Scale and Shield) | HP: 11/11 (1d8) | Speed: 30 ft.
Senses: passive Perception 13, Insight 15, Investigation 10
Str: 13 (+1) | Dex: 09 (-1) | Con: 16 (+3) | Int: 11 (+0) | Wis: 17 (+3) | Cha: 13 (+1)
Languages: Common, Draconic, Celestial and Infernal


My words, | My thoughts, | My actions . . .


As people stand around talking, drinking and watching, there is a commotion from upstairs and then something tiny comes running down the stairs and shoots between peoples feet and under tables and chairs. It zooms along the floor and heads right straight to a fireplace. That is when it stops moving so fast and you recognize a cat. A cat that seems to have some sort of cape or something on its back. Um, nope those are bird like wings. You notice as the cat stretches out right in front of the fire and spreads its wings letting the fire both warm and dry it.

Then come the heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

Rutan, it was not that wet and cold outside.

A big humanoid comes clomping down the stairs and stops as he sees how full the room is. He stands a little over 6 feet tall and about 3 feet wide. He is wearing scale mail and carrying a shield which has a symbol of a red skull inside a fire ball. There is a mace and a dagger in his belt and you can make out a crossbow and backpack on his back. Despite his size, that is not what stands out the most. His body is covered in blue scales with white highlights which catches the flames in the room and sparkles and he has the head of a dragon, sharp teeth and all.

Oh, excuse Rutan and I. Did not expect to see so many people in here tonight.

weejas.jpg.76a356570cb98c08c3f895a80d817881.jpgHe moves to the bar. As he moves you can see the symbol on his shield is also on his cloak.

Kazzador, can I get a warm mead and a bowl of milk? And a bowl of stew for myself and Rutan. It smells delicious and will help warm our insides.

As he gets the drinks he moves over to a table near the fireplace and cat. He takes a seat and places the bowl of milk on the table near another chair.

Rutan jumps up into the chair and while standing on his hind legs with front legs on the table he starts lapping up his milk.

Caldir takes a sip from his drink and glances around nodding hello to anyone that is still looking at him. He is used to people staring at him. Even in his home land a Crystal Dragonborn was a rare thing to see. He is a bit surprised at seeing what appears to be two children sitting at a table with what he believes is a Githyanki? He does not know much about them, but what he has read says they are not normally very nice individuals. Looking at this one he is wondering if those stories were wrong.

Then there are the humans, an elf of some sort and the tall firbolg lady. He only knows she is a firbolg because he has been here for the last several nights and said hi and had a small discussion or two with her. He thinks her name is Privot or something like that. He just wishes he was better at remembering peoples names.

Then the two bowls of stew arrive and the two start eating. The cat tends to grab bits of meat with its claws out of the stew and then proceeds to eat it. It grabs a few of the vegetables but mostly the meat. Once it is done and has had its fill the big dragon man finishes off that bowl of stew too.

 

OOC

 

Edited by Draidden (see edit history)
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