I will inquire of our monk tomorrow night.
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Tanto Monta
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I wonder if the Enchanter would accompany us once more. Or even the Castellan.
The caves, I believe, would be the next stop, it appears.
The caves, I believe, would be the next stop, it appears.
The blades of grass, oppressed by lines of spilt sacrificial blood, resembled a series of fishing stakes half-submerged, in an avocado sea, incomprehensible. The monster of a man, zealous in the dew of death, honored the unforgiving deity of his adoration, before indulging the jade bed with a crimson pool of coagulated kismet. Their remnant of an abandoned demesne, paraded past the slain tribe, nomadic in the ocean of the trees and branches, wading past the foliage further and further, until the habitation of barren islets of preserved salvation, still and stable, below the westering sun. The fading ripples of light animated glitter off the parting citadel, lowering the draw-bridge, welcoming the unsung heroes, now anchored once more, with the promise of protected repose, in Greenest.
A quixotric bear, no longer, still sleepily schismatic between a pirate and its stowaway, now joined in the perfect frailty of unmarked closeness, beneath the tides of dreams and above the waves of nightmares. Eyes, behind fleshy lids of wrinkled skin, darted, to and fro, enjoying the labored rest of the vainful task of exploring the monotonous sweep of the imagined horizon. Here and there, sleepy gleams scattered ships, full with hull, funnel and masts, as though the impassive waters failed to ingest the Amnian armada, without a tremor. Light clouds of fog followed the devious curves of figurehead afore every vessel, but always fainter and farther away, as braids of ginger locks of hair, rose into view, resonating with thunderous footsteps approaching the deck. She almost floated, with the shadows of her spars flung far to the eastward of the setting radiance.
The crew was ready to take the flanked ship, awaiting Captain Xaron's orders. At that moment, there was no sound.
Nothing moved.
In that breathless pause, the threshold of reality measured a fitness of gasps and coughs, as the elder Torus, awakened from the long, arduous enterprise of disturbed slumber. The appointed task of both existences reigned again under the bard, with only the walls of the infirmary for spectators.
The lone judge, Leosin, sat in contemplative meditation, gleaning the mocked arousal of the former sailor's famished sopor. The elder spoke first, looking for the others, realizing she intimated solace, alone with the monk.
“If this harbors the morn of our harvest, in which unremembered season have you sewn the seeds of solidarity?”
@Ryonara@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen@Hekazu
A quixotric bear, no longer, still sleepily schismatic between a pirate and its stowaway, now joined in the perfect frailty of unmarked closeness, beneath the tides of dreams and above the waves of nightmares. Eyes, behind fleshy lids of wrinkled skin, darted, to and fro, enjoying the labored rest of the vainful task of exploring the monotonous sweep of the imagined horizon. Here and there, sleepy gleams scattered ships, full with hull, funnel and masts, as though the impassive waters failed to ingest the Amnian armada, without a tremor. Light clouds of fog followed the devious curves of figurehead afore every vessel, but always fainter and farther away, as braids of ginger locks of hair, rose into view, resonating with thunderous footsteps approaching the deck. She almost floated, with the shadows of her spars flung far to the eastward of the setting radiance.
The crew was ready to take the flanked ship, awaiting Captain Xaron's orders. At that moment, there was no sound.
Nothing moved.
In that breathless pause, the threshold of reality measured a fitness of gasps and coughs, as the elder Torus, awakened from the long, arduous enterprise of disturbed slumber. The appointed task of both existences reigned again under the bard, with only the walls of the infirmary for spectators.
The lone judge, Leosin, sat in contemplative meditation, gleaning the mocked arousal of the former sailor's famished sopor. The elder spoke first, looking for the others, realizing she intimated solace, alone with the monk.
“If this harbors the morn of our harvest, in which unremembered season have you sewn the seeds of solidarity?”
@Ryonara@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen@Hekazu
Wil update CS, soon.
I have decided. Storm Sorcerer. Level 1 Dip.
Gains Tempestuous Magic and Windspeaker.
4 cantrips.
Lightning Lure
Booming Blade
Frostbite
Shocking Grasp.
Level 1 spells:
Shield
Disguise Self.
Gains Tempestuous Magic and Windspeaker.
4 cantrips.
Lightning Lure
Booming Blade
Frostbite
Shocking Grasp.
Level 1 spells:
Shield
Disguise Self.
Closing the distance.
The grassy knoll of space, which separated the claw from that grizzly bite. The cultist had uncannily evaded and survived all attempts to fell its zealotry, both physical and unseen. The fur, labyrinthine with the dew of sweat, bearing the burden of a frail friar and a blue-haired bard, now swayed in concert with the green blades of the field. Each enjoyed the winnowing whip of the wind, casting its whimsical flagella, aside and back again, hither and thither, cooling the bloodied carpets, which blanketed both beast and earth. The race for the false worshipper married ursine paws with the vast field, yielding druid, monk and Hin nearer to their prey.
Nostrils flared.
The bear growled, with the viciousness of a hidden Charon, eager to rip limb from a ripe torso.
@Hekazu
The grassy knoll of space, which separated the claw from that grizzly bite. The cultist had uncannily evaded and survived all attempts to fell its zealotry, both physical and unseen. The fur, labyrinthine with the dew of sweat, bearing the burden of a frail friar and a blue-haired bard, now swayed in concert with the green blades of the field. Each enjoyed the winnowing whip of the wind, casting its whimsical flagella, aside and back again, hither and thither, cooling the bloodied carpets, which blanketed both beast and earth. The race for the false worshipper married ursine paws with the vast field, yielding druid, monk and Hin nearer to their prey.
Nostrils flared.
The bear growled, with the viciousness of a hidden Charon, eager to rip limb from a ripe torso.
@Hekazu
Furry eyelids guttered in quickly the flamboyant display of the dragonclaw adorned now with the plume of fairies, courtesy of the bard upon the bear’s back. The pirate remembered that this gangrenous adversary solely stood between them and liberty, welding the heroes of Greenest to the evil encampment. Completing unfinished business was Xaron’s specialty in Amn, dealing those who spurned the ideology of the all-powerful coin.
The cultist soon came to focus as the brown monstrosity narrowed the gap. The first gasp of consciousness projected as a growl, in the looming charge of the druid, erring on a thwarted bite. Huffing, with Parum hoisted tall, reined by the Nietzchean rope that tethered the soporific monk, the ursine beast swiped its clawed paw, meeting another dodge full of air.
>Torus miss both attacks: Bite, then Claws. Despite Advantage.
The cultist soon came to focus as the brown monstrosity narrowed the gap. The first gasp of consciousness projected as a growl, in the looming charge of the druid, erring on a thwarted bite. Huffing, with Parum hoisted tall, reined by the Nietzchean rope that tethered the soporific monk, the ursine beast swiped its clawed paw, meeting another dodge full of air.
>Torus miss both attacks: Bite, then Claws. Despite Advantage.
Will likely post today with a bite and muliticlaw directed against our bedazzled friend.
Apologies for missing the AoO.
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