The Harbinger of Ferocity

The Twenty-Fifth Hour

So long as we can continue to receive posts to the topic, @DocRock, @Pyromaniacwolf, @Typical, there is no real reason to worry. If the subject drops off long enough from the minds of all, that is when we need be concerned. All I ask is that as much participation that can be afforded, is.

The Twenty-Fifth Hour

@Pyromaniacwolf @Typical

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Chapter I

"While in this moment you haven't the materials to affix the stone to the wood, you could attempt other means, hopeful that they would be so long lasting or function in return or by perhaps sacrificing some of your precious few materials... or by mere quality of being a crafty mind. Debating among your crude tools, you shoot suspicious stares off into the wild wood around you, worried that despite the tranquil morning, sun clocking nearer and nearer to noon, that your bout of fortune in quiet and serenity after the thoughtless horrors only hours before would not last. Your suspicion is not without place either, who knows what manner of thing lived or lives within this place or just who else, and dread to think of it what else, survived the seas on to the beach."

"At this brief impasse now, just what to make said spears out of, you can only hope that you will not need them. A child of the sea you might be and based upon your tattoos that line the inner meat of your arms, a true sailor at that, the use of said weapons is not strange, but you are at disadvantage here. Some crucial parts of your memory lie lost to the darkness, perhaps only to surface again later or if dared to be dredged through, but there is sufficient familiarity with these poles and wicked stones that you are not hapless before any would-be aggressor here."

Give Me Your Favorite Quote(s).

"If the tiger sits, do not think it is out of respect."

Nilotic Proverb

Post a random fact about yourself.

I am a consistent soul to a fault, so much so that one of the greatest ongoing complaints about my character and being is that this felid never varies or wavers. It is often questioned of me how I might live such a life, one so consistent and unchanging, but I believe the answers for that to be obvious; I am as I am, as I have been and will be. There is something divine to this and seeing that I am irrevocably tied to at that, as I cannot vary even if I so wished to. This world is forever full of change now, a great flood of turmoil and uncertainty, the kind that has filled up every low place and left only the highest points, the greatest peaks, standing timeless now as islands. However, man sails life as his vessel, seeking harbor wherever he can find it; would it not be reasonable then to be that thing unchanged by the eons? Surely he would drown without it, yet here he is, swift to curse it. He cannot live with it and he cannot live without it, only infuriated that unlike everything else, he cannot govern it.

The Twenty-Fifth Hour

@DocRock, @Pyromaniacwolf, tonight the game will progress with or without you. Likewise, the grace period's window will be soon closing.

Post a random fact about yourself.

When I hear others speaking of regret in their life choices I am left to wonder if it is better or worse that I feel no such thing.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Having plucked the fallen kobold from the floor just as the other free hand did the set of keys which had been left sagging upon the cave wall, Brannor returned with quarry in hand. While not a monumental kill, the huntsman was still proud of his doings, just as any would expect a predatory beast in man's clothing to be. His ironclad fist dropped the lifeless, fresh kill back into its slump and the remaining hand tossed the keys on to the ground between them all, setting the metal clattering across the floor before he shaking off his stained armor. From there his eyes surveyed the remaining pile of bodies that the half-blood, Orchid, had created given his crowded up figure next to them and parting through what was left of their gear. Likewise he shot a glance to the badly battered tiger, who in the moment quietly licked his wounds; less the old wizard he appeared to be earlier and something so familiar now.

The green warden did not spend much further thought on that, at least not now, as the wake of the hunt and kill - the calm instilled in him - sated that side of his heart. Although, admittedly, the man was not so certain he ever wanted it to be at this rate. After all they had done in the past few days and what he had been capable of doing, with more still needing to be done, perhaps the human element was not near as great as the gifted side of him. Certainly the Pale Lady was stronger than the flesh, the divine after all, and that was what was needed now if they were to continue fighting the children of dragons and the beasts themselves, but surely there was a reason the paladin had a foot in both worlds; some part man, beast, and divine.

Nodding, he continued his surveying stare in the damp, dank cave and cut out the overwhelming earth-touched scent of blood that filled his lungs. From there he offered what he could of himself in an almost casual sense, noting, "I can mend some injuries, whatever you cannot bind."

Honesty and sincerity forthcoming, it was more clear what he meant under the surface. He was not a healer, not in the truest of senses, and his role was to be the claws and fangs, the blade, of nature's call. Yet at the same time he was gifted enough to stanch some of the suffering they had incurred, but only just enough. Really more than anything all the man could hope for was that they could recuperate the best they could first before needing his aid.

Effects

Brannor will take the keys off the wall and drag the body of the kobold back with him to the rest of the party. Once there, he will offer some of his Lay on Hands to patch up the rest of the remaining injuries where he can after other sources are used.

@Hekazu@Ryonara@Zverda@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen

Post a random fact about yourself.

All too often I make the mistake of believing the everyman, the lay person, can overcome themselves in even the smallest thing. If I know I will be endlessly disappointed in the vast, writhing sea of persons, why is it I convince myself that they need "Just another chance." to succeed? Yet when they attempt, if at all let me clarify, it never amounts to what is desired? So why bother dealing with them at all and simply not regarding them as generally irrelevant until they consistently show signs of promise? Why, even then, feel some fragment of similarity to them just because they accomplished the task put forth? I do not have an answer to these things but it is a fact I scold myself for being too hopeful in this capacity.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Should no one post by tomorrow evening, I will before we hit another stretch of all too common drought.

The Twenty-Fifth Hour

@DocRock @Pyromaniacwolf

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Chapter I

"Flipping through the pages of the strange pale book, you discover that a certain pattern of symbology emerges throughout it, almost as though the author was keen on developing a certain set of core ideas and philosophies to be repeated through their penmanship. Perhaps mantras, mudras, or something of similar nature likely, a trope of many beliefs. Puzzling on them, your mind wanders from this island again and traverses other thoughts that pervade you such as the place of the inky black that sought to consume you. Yet this time thinking upon it, you view it within the mind's eye with an objective experience, dazed by the passing thought that it all could have been more symbolic than factual. However, your introspection is interrupted as you recall you have more worldly concerns to be busied with."

"Returning to them, you snap the book shut and secure its latch, depositing it into the sack you have carried with you throughout the green growth. Now back to fumbling with stones, it is plausible some of these might be useful cutting instruments, namely the stones you believe to be obsidian glass. With some basic effort, you manage to fragment the stone down into crude edges and flay the wood just enough to act as spears."