Fading Memory

CLOSED [DnD5e] Perils of Xepreath - Character-driven Adventures

absolutely solid roll, nice.

My rolls, including a whopping 11 health at level 3. Such rogue. I'll post the finished sheet later when I have it finished.

For now though here's my mechanics while I work on finalizing the more important things.

CLOSED [DnD5e] Perils of Xepreath - Character-driven Adventures

The Red Wraiths are Harpers, basically, with an Adventurer Society bend to them is my interpretation. They're the folks willing and able to beat down these rift portals, usually for the good of it or the religious inclination, but there's room for more lenient interpretations and ideologies since the core faith has relaxed for the society over time. At least that's my interpretation.

So far I'm thinking of a Scout concept, rogue class [scout subclass] specifically. I've rolled up a set of stats and I'll get to cooking over the coming days. Aiming for a more grey character myself, but definitely not someone who won't play ball with a team.

CLOSED [DnD5e] Perils of Xepreath - Character-driven Adventures

I like the vibe! Let me stew on this a bit to see if I come up with a concept :)

Gods, Angels, Demons in New Haven Definitive HD Mix Edition

as a general blanket statement, I'm someone who does like to run with given information so if I overstep and need to back up at any point I'm 100% down to edit posts and take a little less initiative if that ever becomes an issue.

Gods, Angels, Demons in New Haven Definitive HD Mix Edition

A whirlwind of dialogue and energy washed over Cathal, and so he composed himself to handle things in his own flow. Marie's lackluster and depressive existence weighs on him and slows him down, his attention focusing on her. The way she handled the liquor, the way she lurched for it, the way she seemed to need it and didn't give a damn about how it looked...

He'd been there. Hell, he was sure that everyone had been there. The others all looked at their paperwork first thing, and their ghastly responses to the material didn't exactly hurry Cathal's own desire to look at the news and macabre happenings. He lifted a hand and slid his cap off, holding it to his chest in a dual natured maneuver; a formal greeting, and an obscuration of the newspaper in his other hand from his own eyes.

"Cathal O'Molloy, begging yer pardon. And that sounds like a crock o' shit, to be blunt with ya." he laughs heartily. "But I've seen stranger things than a boy who can guess all that without even hearing a man speak." He pauses, and nods to Abigail, then apologetically offers a smile to the other women present. "Eh, pardon the language, ma'ams. Old habits." He flashes that dazzling smile again as he focuses his attention back on Montag.

"But I'll play yer game. Yer the boss, after all. Cathal O'Molloy; Immigrant, if yer so keen ye can make the guess; Trying to wean off the liquor, though I dare say that's gonna be a slow battle. If I had to take a wild guess, I'm twice your age. Word of advice? Relax, you're only going to wear yourself out with all that bluster."

He eases back into his seat and shifts his physical posture to land his attention fully on Abigail.

"Now here's a miss with some sense in her head." He appraises her quietly for a moment. "Aye, I've seen some strange things. More than my fair share, and it's got me rather miffed to be honest with you." He rolls his shoulders, belying an underlying nervousness. "Trenches will do that to a man." He finally says, before flashing a more tame and reserved grin and continuing; "But to actually answer your question...Yes, New Haven's given me new headaches. I've always had vivid dreams, mind you, but ever since I nearly got my head torn off me shoulders by lass who was all leg and step-danced on me chin I've been seeing dark things indeed. I'm here because my dreams said to be, and because I've got a ghost of my own that I'm chasing."

Finally he looked to Marie, raising his cap back to his head. He studied her quietly. Weighing her words and actions finally. He folded the newspaper in his hands without looking at it.

"Well, sounds to me like you've already got a lot of this sorted out. Unnatural happenstances, vicious murders, hutning down unsavory sorts..." He shudders. "Murder's murder, someone being on the wrong side of the street doesn't change that."

He shuts his eyes for a few moments. Last night's dream flooded his mind; that gushing wound. Montag Detectives, LTD, a bandage. The bandage soaked through. Falling loose. The image expanded, the body was ribbons. The bandage was on an arm- but the arm had no accompanying body. So much blood. A fanged maw gorged itself on the entrails of a man nearby. A man Cathal knew. His eyes snapped open, his hands tight on the newspaper in his steel-grip. His clenched teeth parted and he whetted his lips deliberately.

"Let me guess..." He said with the appropriate dismay in his voice. "Lad by the name of..."

He flips the newspaper open finally, smoothing it out in his lap.

"Aye, Timothy Jones. Bastard." He pauses. "Ach, sorry, just assume I don't mean to do it in the presence of the fairer folk." He offers with his barking laughter as a blanket apology. "But I'd known one of these lads in passing. Mister Jones here used to be a bootlegger. Don't fret over why I knew of a bootlegger, now, but I've got a suspicion he was more than just ripped apart."

He lifts his gaze to Marie, Montag, and Abigail.

"He ran with the mob, organized bunch. Won't let their folk get gutted like that without doing their own legwork. I can start with that angle- one of me haunts was supplied by Mister Jones."

Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

Go for it :)

Gods, Angels, Demons in New Haven Definitive HD Mix Edition

Apologies, an absolutely abysmal night's sleep and and a dreadfully hot day of work have killed me today; tomorrow I have substantial time off and will post then. Just keeping folks informed of my status!

Gods, Angels, Demons in New Haven Definitive HD Mix Edition

Got swept up in something; I’ll have that post up by tomorrow evening.

Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

@Neianna86 don't forget to add your wisdom, you still get the attribute modifier even to skills you aren't proficient in! so 13 and 18 :)

Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

Vigil, U'Nunlo, Regis, and Gen

Regis' tail flicks from side to side in contemplation and a subtle agitation. At the question? At memories? It is initially unclear, but Regis' gaze swivels to focus on Gen and her antics as Vigil speaks. At last, after a pause, he responds;

"Gen saved me. Me, Behemoth, one of the Tribefolk, protector of the Badlands...Saved by a human girl with a dagger and a song. A Great Beast came from the Lands Beyond. I was in training. I was to be a hunter. I can move quiet. I can stalk prey. All I could do when the Beast came was hide. It was terrifying." This revelation comes hard for the young man, but his respect for Vigil obligates him to share in it. "And my people perished. The Tribe of Gen was born in the aftermath of the destruction of the Tribe of the Shrouded Fang."

Vigil would have heard of this tribe; Regis' story corroborates the general consensus of what must have happened to the elusive tribe of shadow-seeking hunters. It was an old name, one that had faded suddenly and recently; in short, the disappearance of the Shrouded Fang tribe was a spark on the powder keg of growing Behemoth dissent. Having seen Fenhall, and travelled the Dale Lands briefly as he has, Vigil can likely reconcile the feelings of abandonment and neglect the greater Behemoth community is feeling in their role of Protectors of the Realm with the destitution and slow decline of the Dale Folk.

Regis continues;

"I was hid, halfburied, in the shade of a boulder. I watched as my chieftain claimed the Beast's eye. I watched as the tribe fought as one, trying to bring it down. 'For the safety of the Realm!' they cried. It still haunts me, some nights. That war cry. To the last, protectors of Aesithas." He growls low in his throat. Anger, sadness, all of it rippling through his body. "But it was Gen who protected me. Only the Gods know why she was in the Badlands- but when she came across me, she was as wild as any beast and as crafty as a serpent. The Great Beast was lingering on the Tribe Grounds, and so I was stuck. Hidden there. Waiting. After what must have been days I was delirious. I thought I heard the Gods speaking to me, telling me everything would be okay. Turns out it was just Gen, and she sang to the Beast as she dug me out of the earth. Watching such a creature slumber while a girl sang..."

He snorts.

"I put my faith in her now. The Gods are good, but Gen is right there. She has a good head. She just can't remember anything before the Badlands besides 'hearing Prospero play'. She raved about it, and so we travelled here to find an instrument. At first she wanted to beg for the coin. Try to find jobs to do. But in the end, when the Tralaya attacked, she resolved to just steal the lute. She intended to come and pay it back. I would have just left the city."...

And so his elaboration concludes and he marches forth to engage with U'Nunlo and Gen once again, Vigil free to engage deeper or leave as he sees fit...

---

Fenhall, Gathering The Party

Regardless, the Party is Gathered. The Journey soon to begin. Tomas Smithson, garbed in what must be hand-me-down garb of Ser Pyke's, cleaned up well enough- but hot baths and new clothes cannot wash out the upbringing and hard-wrought traits of the smith's son. His hammer is looped upon his belt, and as everyone gathers at the gate they witness Ser Pyke teaching him how to properly strap a shield upon his arm- the same shield that Iris saw being repaired in the Castle Smithy. Seems Pyke was bestowing it upon the boy who was to be his new Squire.

Alison and Crimson make their appearances promptly upon the designated time; U'Nunlo manifests from the nearby Noctem Shanty as if she had been waiting for people to gather in a state of ambush; Regis comes, dragging a half-asleep Gen along on her feet as she mumbles a sleep-addled count of her and Regis' supplies.

At last, as the party gathers in full with the presence of all of you, Ser Pyke steps away from Tomas and addresses the gathering.

"There will be one other to join us. Another Knight has taken up the Summons, and been tasked by the Princess. She will be joining us; I know her to be true, and a powerful warrior in her own right. Take note, Tomas, for there are more ways than mine to take heed of. Let us make our introductions and be off- Castle Lancre awaits. I will begin; I am Ser Pyke, and have born the title of the Ashen Knight in my time as Lord Commander of the Palace Guard. Tomas Smithson I name my Squire."

"T-Tomas Smithson." Tomas jumps to the introduction at that. "I met most of ye before the um..Tralaya attack. Born a smith, but it didn't feel right to hammer out horse-shoes and nails when all the news we was getting was so bad. When Ser Pyke came to my village, I left with him. To try and help the Realm."

"U'Nunlo. The name, er, I mean. Ranger of wild places. Dreamer of big dreams." U'nunlo says, keeping it brief. Their spidery limbs straighten for the introduction, the being bowing deeply to formalize it.

"Alison of Waltone. Attended by Crimson, sworn sword of Waltone. I wield powerful sorceries, as has been the birthright of my family since long before the Line of Braedan ruled these lands." Alison says with a prideful and regal tone. Crimson looks down at his breastplate and twirls a finger in his cloud-puff-moustache as he shines a smudge off his armor- silent as ever.

"Regis." Gen says happily, clapping the young Behemoth upon his shoulder. Today he was back into a more lithe, leathery, appearance for the travels. "And Gen!" She flashes a smile that could light up the black of night. "of the Tribe of Gen. Heroes!"

And with their introductions out of the way formally, the group has a chance to reintroduce themselves and (re)familiarize with the party before the Quest begins in earnest...