Out of the Abyss IC

[RandomWombat]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b4/96/fa/b496fa594629064c787d98cfa740fed1.jpg

It was yesterday that Borthan was dragged through the dark by his captors, to a nearby drow outpost. Though he had been shackled and blindfolded, he could hear the sound of a waterfall, its peaceful white noise drowning out the sound of his crunching footsteps on the gravelly floor of a massive cavern. Through many years as a guide and hunter in the dark, size of a cavern was something Borthan had some sense of, even with sight beyond him.

The creaking of rope and pulleys from above is followed by the drow captors shoving him unceremoniously into some kind of life, which begins to rise. The hand-operated lift leaves him with a swaying sense of weightlessness as it drags him up away from the solid ground below, even as thousands of tons of ground lie above. The snarling grunts of quaggoths doing heavy lifting greets him at the top.

Then two sets of wooden bridges. As he crosses the first, Borthan can feel flecks of water hitting his face, the sound of the waterfall right beside him to his right. A drow blade jabs him in the back to keep him moving.

Into a dank, stinking hole in the wall he is thrown. "You can take off your blindfold now, meat," a voice snarls in unfriendly Elvish, followed by a metal door slamming shut and locking behind him.

Removing the blindfold reveals that Borthan is in a smaller cave. It's damp inside, and some small white bioluminescent mushrooms are growing in the corners, providing roughly as much light as a candle. Behind him is a metal door, with no handle on the inside. A window with three bars is set into the door, and looking outside reveals some of the outpost interior, built into the wall of the large cavern, and the second wooden walkway he was led across.

To his left, beside the door, is a small wooden bucket that stinks of waste. The prisoners' chamberpot. Not that there are any prisoners aside him, yet. The cave is silent and empty, its darkness eerie and enveloping.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating on:

Borthan stepped slowly and purposefully as he was dragged forward. It may have cost him a jab or two with that blade, but it also let him count his paces. Six... seven... eight... He growled in pain when he was poked and almost lost count. When he was shoved into the lift, he then began counting the seconds it took him to rise. One step, one second at a time he was coming up with a half-assed map of this place. Nothing precise enough to count on, but it would help him get back to where he came from if that was the best way out. And he would get out. He'd promised himself when he earned his freedom from Vrek and the Dueregar that he'd never be chained again. He'd get out. Or die trying.

Thirty five... thirty six... waterfall on the right. Thirty seven, thirty eight, second wooden bridge. One... two... three... He hoped that Nilvae had gotten away. He had tried to impress on her how important it was that she keep her distance while he finalized the hand off to the Drow, but he didn't know how seriously she had taken him. Didn't know how seriously she took anything, really. He hadn't know her long, and thought her crazy to want to come down to the Underdark for no sensical reason, but he still hoped she got away. Dying to a hook horror or a cave fisher was a mercy compared to what the Drow were capable of. He should know. He'd delivered people to their tender mercies before.

He should have known something was off. Should have cut and run. The meet up was supposed to be with some members of the Dewunill house guard- flunky males who would do as they were ordered and not ask questions. But for a granddaughter of the House to show up meant one of two things- either the package was a lot more important than he'd realized, or they already had him made. Either way, when you're playing the part of a male drow and a female priestess orders you to kiss her hand, you kiss the damn thing, magical disguise or no. He may never know if Wyrna knew what he was before or after the kiss, but the disguise didn't hold up to her scrutiny. One immobilization spell later and he was tied up, knocked out, and dragged halfway to who knows where to whatever hell pit the Drow had prepared for him. But he would escape. Escape or die.

"You can take off your blindfold now, meat,"

Borthan reached up and removed the blindfold immediately, turning quickly and trying to get a glimpse of his captors before they locked him in. After that, he took in his surroundings silently, using his darkvision to examine every inch of the cave. That done, he pressed his face to the bars and took in everything he could make out from the cell window. Doing his best to commit everything to memory, he eventually went to the back of the cave next to the luminescent fungus, trying to find the driest place to sit that he can. He slid a hand down his inner thigh, checking what he had stashed there. While he was tied but before they'd taken his weapons he'd managed to saw off a small length of the rope they'd bound him with and slipped it down his inner pant leg. Finding it there, he smirked and immediately drew his hand out of his pants. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He took a moment to rub at the bruises their boots and hilts had left on his body before laying down. Tomorrow the work started. Tomorrow he'd be staring out of those bars, taking in every patrol, memorizing every face, and checking to see if there were other prisoners here. Escaping alone seemed unlikely, but he could wait for others. The cell certainly seemed spacious for just one prisoner. If necessary he could wait a long time. But he would get out. He would escape... wouldn't he? Shut up, Bort. No thinking like that. Now, as punishment, instead of sleep you get to do sit ups till you can't move. Maybe next time you'll think twice before doubting yourself again, idiot. He chuckled to himself and started doing sit ups, meaning to follow his own order to the letter before he allowed himself to sleep.

[RandomWombat]

The First Day

In the split second before his captives leave to their posts, Borthan is able to catch sight of one of them through the barred window. His face stands out, scarred by claw marks and burns, the long hair so often in drow fashion cut short with bald spots here and there left by acid burns. He is clad in the ornate armor of an elite warrior, but his eyes are downcast and brooding, not the arrogant pride of his less stand-out subordinate.

The hours tick on. Keeping track of time in the Underdark is always a tricky business, but the familiar gnaw of hunger does much to alert Borthan to the passage of time and absence of food. So when the smell of something hot and distinctly edible wafts in through the window, it gets his attention.

On the other side of the door is the scarred drow from earlier. His eyes are dull and tired, with deep bags and dark lines under them, as if he has not been trancing as often as he should. Borthan picks out a notable limp in the elf's left leg, and scars running up his left arm. The drow opens a thin slot in the door and slides through a tray, with a single shallow bowl of mushroom gruel in a watery broth.

The Second Day

Borthan is woken from sleep - or perhaps the illusion of sleep - by movement. Multiple sets of footsteps against the wood of the bridges. A glance out the window sees a dwarf, restrained with iron chains and lurching as if heavily sedated. No doubt measured doses of drow poison to keep a troublesome prisoner compliant. It's nothing Borthan hasn't seen before.

"Step away from the door, meat," one of the drow spits venomously at Borthan; by the voice, the same one that called him that before. The scarred drow is nowhere to be seen today, a different one taking his place.

To Dworic, everything is a blur. The world swimming around him, his muscles struggling to actuate. The words spoken ahead of him echo and reverberate, as if in a dream.

Dworic is suffering from level 3 Exhaustion, as a result of being dosed with tranquilizers.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating on:


Day One

Bort immediately picks up the bowl of mushroom gruel and begins scooping it into his mouth. He'd need every bit of strength to get out of here, and he wasn't about to turn his nose up and food, no matter how unappetizing. Once he completed his meal he slid the small bowl back through the slot. He had no desire to get insects in this hole, and there were advantages to being considered a model prisoner. Then he went back to watching and waiting. For as long as it took.

Day Two

Obligingly stepping out of the way of the door, Borthan waits for the dwarf to be shoved inside, ready to put an arm under him and keep him supported. He looked strong. He could use that strength.

[RandomWombat]

The First Day

It must come as a surprise to have the bowl returned, and so soon, because it clatters to the stone ground outside. Borthan hears one of the drow calling out, "Go pick it up!"

Moments later, the scarred drow limps his way back with an annoyed expression, plucking the bowl up off of the floor and carrying it away.

The Second Day

After Borthan makes room, the drow unlock the door and predictably shove the drugged dwarf in without any care to his condition. The door is swiftly shut behind him and locked again. "Make sure the new meat sobers up. There's work to do tomorrow," the snobby drow sneers through the bars at the two of them, then turns and follows his supervisor away.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating on:

The Second Day

Speaking in Undercommon, Borthan throws an arm under the dwarf's and tries to escort him to the best spot in the cave- the driest spot. Not truly dry, but still the spot that Bort favored. C'mon, biggun. Let's get you to where you can rest. Need to get that poison outta your system if yer gonna help get us out of here. Do you even speak Undercommon? Should I try something else? He cleared his throat and spoke in Dwarvish, though his Gray Dwarf accent was distinct. You should rest. You'll need your strength, biggun.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (3)
Concentrating: --

Dworic's head swam; the world seemed to float by as he stumbled and was shoved forward. His mind a thick haze, he felt only confusion and shame - one thing he knew, he wasn't dead and therefore must have been captured alive. This seems confirmed by the constant reverberating rattling of chains with every step.

He hears the evil Drow tongue all around him and feels defeated. The world falls away with a push and someone catches him, propping him up, and he hears the familiar sound of a door being barred. He tries to focus on the person holding him and becomes rapidly confused when seeing those violet eyes staring at him and speaking some dialect of dwarfish. He frowns heavily and tries to speak, the words feel thick like mud. "Don... sully mah peeple langash wif yor... eevol tong, eebon skeen," he says in drugged Undercommon. "Yoo haf cap... captur... capshuured mee... leaf mee to die nao." He then feebly struggles away from what must be one of his captors.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating on:

The Second Day

Whoah there, biggun. If that poison is affecting your eyes I'll let that one slide, but if you take a good look you'll see my skin is far from ebon. I prefer to think of it as a sensual chocolate, myself. Bort sticks with Undercommon for now. No need to piss his new guest off. Furthermore, you'll notice that I'm on the wrong side of the door to be one of them, with no weapons, no armor, and nothing I can hurt you with short of my bootlaces. Locked in here just like you, and aimin to remedy that soons as can be done. Bort guides the dwarf down to the ground, leaving him on the cold stone. You sleep now. Maybe once you're not more drugged out than a drunk wyvern we can talk more intimately about getting the hell out of here. Dusting off his hands, Borthan returns to the door to check for guard patrols.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (3)
Concentrating: --

The dwarf lies down on the damp stone and feels the cold, hard reassuring stone beneath him while the cavern's ceiling seems to spin above him, bioluminescent fungi drawing swirling patterns in his eyes. He closes his eyes hard, trying to force the world to stop. So hard to think, but the not-drow said something important. He wracks his brain searching for it. "Foocoos," he says under his breath, thinking hard and willing some sort of order to his thoughts, until he had it! Escape! The not-drow wants to get out as well!

He half rolls over, grunting with exertion, then gives up. As much as he tries, the words are still slurred. "Eef not dwrow den whoo yoo?"

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating on:

Borthan Zuek. Bort answered from his position at the door. He reached up and gripped the bars at the window. Half-Drow, half-human, and neither by any choice of my own. Arrested by the Drow while working a job. I hunt bounties for a living. Sometimes I work for unsavory people. In this case, I was working for the damn Drow. Should have known better. He turned his head and spat on the stone in disgust. So now that that's out of the way who are you, friend?





"Borthan Zuek" is Dwarvish (specifically Gray Dwarvish) for "strong shadow".

[RandomWombat]

The Second Day

It's surely under an hour before Borthan hears footsteps coming in the direction of their cell again, across the sturdy walkways. This time he sees two prisoners in their grasp, one quite literally. A pair of deep gnomes, one unconscious and being carried under one arm by a drow elite, the other led along by the manacles with a blindfold over her eyes.

The same old song and dance, with the drow barking orders to get out of the way. With the door clear, the drow unceremoniously chucks the unconscious gnome inside. When the other one hears the fall, she tugs against her captor and tries to run inside. The drow holding her manacles holds her back with a smug grin, just long enough for her to yank her own arms at an uncomfortable angle trying to pull away, then lets go so she falls forward onto her face.

With a sour laugh, the drow kicks the door shut behind her and locks it.

"Turvy?" the gnome rips off her blindfold and crawls over to the other one. He received a nasty scratch on his shoulder that bleeds through his ragged clothing, but thankfully has not cracked his head on the stones.

The two gnomes look eerily similar, with tall foreheads and thin receding hair lines - which is already more hair on their heads than most deep gnomes can claim. The female twin's hair hangs behind her in two shaggy ponytails, while the mail sports thick mutton chops and a thin beard.

The Third Day

It's been days of travel with the priestess and her hunters dragging Faedryl behind. Along the way they'd found more prey; a deep gnome with a large, bulbous nose and a simple silver earring. The little interloper had the gall to challenge the priestess to a round of cards to decide to fate of her prisoner, and for his troubles was clapped in irons. But his mood doesn't seem to have diminished at all.

After reaching a certain point, the two of them were outfitted with blindfolds. "Attempt to remove them, and you will be dosed with poison and duly punished once we arrive," the priestess tells them with a contemptuous voice.

"Ooh, you gonna use whips? My girlfriend always said no to that!" the gnome quips, and falls forward with an "oof" when one of the male drow kicks him in the back of the head.

"You have my permission to remove his tongue if he does not shut up," the priestess tells her subordinate, without even looking back. That one gets the gnome to silence himself, at least.

Faedryl can hear the sound of a waterfall ahead. The two prisoners are loaded into some kind of lift, and pulled up towards the ceiling of the cavern. When they arrive, they are guided off and past two quaggoth - Faedryl recognizes their presence by the grunting noises and the smell.


The prisoners' morning meal of gruel is interrupted by the sound of more arrivals. To their surprise, a drow priestess is personally escorting another female drow, and a third svirfneblin, both blindfolded. "Back," the priestess orders imperiously.

After one day, Dworic's Exhaustion reduces to 2.

Meanwhile...

Nilvae finds herself in a sticky predicament. After taking off from the deal-turned-sour that had Borthan captured by the drow, she wound up lost in the tunnels with only her animals for company. It took a couple days for the drow to track her down, with a pair of giant spiders of their own.

Now, Nilvae is hanging from the wall in a web cocoon, as the drow make camp in an alcove below. Muttley is cocooned next to her and whining, while the drow seem to have taken a liking to Mister Spide and are treating him to a feast of fresh lizard carcass. The two spiders belonging to the drow stalk around Nilvae on the wall, and one of them is eyeing Muttley hungrily.

She can hear the drow below talking about butchering the mutt now, before its whining brings unwanted attention on the trip back.

Nilvae is Restrained. She can still attempt to perform spells with somatic components, as her hands are not completely immobile inside the cocoon.

[Amnestic]

Faedryl had limited options on where to focus her attention while blindfolded, so she focuses on what she does have - taste, probably not so important here (nothing she could smell she wanted anywhere near her mouth), but touch, sound and smell moreso. She tried counting how many steps it had been since they were blindfolded, how many steps since it felt like they'd entered...a camp? No, an outpost, given the lift. That alone was too much infrastructure for just a camp but there wasn't enough of a 'drow' smell for it to be a town or city. They were taking their sweet time bringing her back to Mother Dearest, not that Faedryl was complaining about that. Every opportunity to make an opportunity to escape. This thought trail made her lose all grasp of how many steps they'd taken. So much for that at least. It didn't help that every step sent shooting pains up her legs. Hopefully she'd be able to get a good view once her blindfold was removed.

The stench of mediocrity wafted from the gnome that had ended up alongside her. She'd seen their kind before - not gnomes (well, yes, gnomes, but that's not what she's thinking). Incompetents so in love with the sound of their own voice and imagined immunity to threats. If she could stomach the conversation without tearing out his throat (or her own ears) he might serve as a worthy distraction. Her people loved to kill the noisy ones fir...wait, were they her people anymore? They had to be, that was the whole point of everything she'd done, but a creeping worm of doubt slithers into her stomach as she hears her captor yell at...someone. Other captives, presumably, from the tone. Just how many had they gathered? How many soldiers would they bring right to her before this was over?

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (3)
Concentrating: --

Dworic's face involuntarily twists itself in discomfort as he focuses on Bort's words, and he silently curses the poison clouding his eyes and ears.

He digs deep and the confusion falls away from his eyes momentarily; with a great heave and a deep rumbling growl, Dworic props himself up and sits with his back against the wall, corded muscles straining. His deeply furrowed brow and piercing eyes look directly at Bort as he manages halting, but no longer slurred words in Dwarfish. "Dwo ri c Urg rims o n of Cla n Azr i l th ra g. At yo ur se r vic e a n d y o u r C l a n' s..." the words trail away as the dwarf finally falls unconscious.

Gonna have Dworic use one Rage to sit up and introduce himself, then it ends early since no attacks and he keels over.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

You're probably wondering how I got here. Nilvae relays to a close-by sleeping bat, fully aware Puck's magic was inaccessible to her and thus the beast could not understand a word she said. It all started the day I met this wily dark-skinned guy. Seemed to have a knack with animals. Seemed to have his head screwed on tight. Not endlessly talking to townspeople like Lambert. Not accusatory like Mayor Abbott. A proper nature-y guy. A bit tamer than Groteg and his pack of dogs, but hey. Muttley down there is one of his too. You would not realize by his meek frame. But the good boy has often defended me from loneliness. Her voice becomes bitter, and she shuts up as the drow takes notice of her prattling. They were ever vigilant, they feared nature and the beasts around them. They said talking is a sure-fire way to get killed. And the spider lovers are not fond of her magic either. How happy they would be if they could talk to their precious spiders. Gleeful even.

She paused. Borthan taught her a bit of the tongue of the Underdark, and the Drow language was too similar to Elvish that she could not avoid to notice the plans to feed the spiders. Muttley seemed to notice too. The dog was scared of them, but what scared him more was the dark caves and the thought of abandoning his pack mates. Mr Spide the Giant Spider that occasionally turned into Doctor Donk, a huge mule. One of Puck's favorite tricks.

Mr Spide has claimed the mutt for himself. She nudges her head towards the drow spiders. These two should not challenge his emergency rations, or I could see a fight breaking out. I think your masters would not like to see a spider injured, let alone three. Nilvae says with honest concern in her voice, even if the initial scenario was entirely fabricated. The spider-mule's dietary were a mixed bag at best, and she had seen the spider form munching on hay before, unsure if this was out of habit or provided nutrition. The elf bastard half expected to wake up some day with a donkey munching on some freshly killed medium critter, and she was sure, that was the more intimidating sight.

Deception to bring them from eating Muttley [roll0]

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating on:

The Second Day

This time Borthan doesn't have to be told to get out of the way. By the time the Drow have arrived at the cell door he is a few feet away, leaning against the cave wall to make room for new arrivals. He is surprised, however, when the first one in is an unconscious gnome being tossed like a sack of grain. He takes a sharp step forward, but when he sees another gnome get manhandled into the cell he slides back against the wall and waits for the door to shut. He ponders waking Dworic, but decides that the dwarf needs his rest. Once the door is shut he counts to ten before moving forward to help the gnomes. Speaking in their language, he says Names Borthan Zuek. The biggun lump is Dworic. Ripping off a piece of his shirt, he attempts to make a makeshift bandage for the male gnome's scratch. He'd never been trained in medicine, but he'd always managed just fine with his own wounds. We're all getting out of here. Just gonna take time. Can you be patient, play it safe, and plan with us to make that happen?

The Third Day

Borthan leaned down and shook Dworic when the food arrived. Speaking in Undercommon, he tried to be gentle yet firm in his insistence the dwarf wake up. Food, biggun. It ain't tasty but it gets worse if you let it get cold. He personally serves the dwarf and the two gnomes their bowls, saving his own gruel for last. Then he gets up to resume his position at the door and return the bowls, only to hear the telltale creaking of the wooden walkway. He rushes forward, then immediately withdraws to his position a few feet from the door with a high whistle. Drow priestess... this one's important for some reason, with an escort like that. he thinks.

[RandomWombat]

The Second Day

The female gnome lifts up the wounded one and moves him to a dryer spot, as the drow make their way elsewhere. When Borthan approaches, she looks up at him fiercely. There is a look in her eyes like a cornered rat, wild and dangerous. But when he tears off some fabric to use as a bandage, some of her tension seeps out. "Never heard any tallfolk call a dwarf a 'biggun'," she points out, flicking her eyes over to the sleeping dwarf.

His piece of cloth stops the worst of the leaking blood. The cut is not as bad as it looks, not very deep by Borthan's estimate. The gnome chews at her lip uncertainly at his suggestion. "I see. Hm." She thinks it over, with some small hesitation. "Alright. Our names are Topsy and Turvy. I know," she cuts off any attempts to make a joke about it with a wave of her hand. "We're twins. Turvy was drugged by the spider ears. Do you know how long this lasts?"

The Third Day

By the new day, the second gnome is groggily beginning to stir. Turvy remains quiet and avoids looking at the other prisoners, but accepts the gruel offered and tiredly begins to eat. Topsy devours her bowl ravenously.


Once the door area is clear, the priestess opens the door and ushers her prisoners inside. "Inside, blindfolds off, no trouble," she instructs, in a cold no-nonsense voice, sticking her nose up at the prisoners marched past her. The guard with her shuts the door and locks it. "Prepare the first work shift," she orders him. She spares them no more words, and turns to stride out of sight.

The guard outside looks the prisoners over through the window. "Muttmeat, ale breath, and Tweedle Dee." He points his finger at Borthan, Dworic, and Topsy. "Congratulations, you've got a job. Get up. Line up single file."

Topsy gets up, walking over and passing by the newcomers. The new deep gnome whistles and waggles his brows at her, getting less than no response. "Friendly bunch," he says with a smirk, walking deeper into the room and stretching out his arms. "What about the rest of you? Do we get at least a hello?"

There is no response from Turvy, who sleepily slurps down more mushroom gruel and avoids everyone's gaze.

Meanwhile...

Beneath her silken perch, two of the squad of six drow look up at her, as if staring at a dog that started to talk - and oh the irony. "Emergency rations, you say?" He turns and grins at Mister Spide. "Feeling hungry, boy?" He points up at the two cocoons.

To Nilvae's sight, a certain little detail sets her spider apart from all the others. Apart from its sleek black carapace, in contrast to the purple shells of the Lolth-touched spiders of the drow, a tophat and monocle floats above and upon its face. As if sketched onto reality by a child's hand in colored pens; but in truth sketched onto Nilvae's vision by a certain puckish fey.

Mister Spide crawls partway up the wall to regard Nilvae and Muttley. After a cursory examination, Nilvae can almost hear its sinister drawl declaring a lack of interest, and the spider crawls back down to settle near the campfire and enjoy the warmth. "Fine," the drow relents, getting up. He switches into using a silent sign language, which two other members of the squad return as they fall in behind him and they venture out of the camp.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating on:

The Second Day

Depends on how much they dosed him. He should be awake by tomorrow, but he could be groggy for days. Lucky little guy coulda been killed if they used too much. I say lucky, but... He uses both hands to gesture at their surroundings as though that makes his point.

The Third Day

Borthan smirks at the new gnome and gives him a Hello. in Gnomish. Then he stretches and says something in Gnomish and then repeats himself in Dwarvish. Watch your words around the new female Drow. Could be a spy. We'll need to vet her first. Then he moves to get in line. When he passes by the apparent prisoner female Drow he gives a slight bow of his head and simply utters Ma'am. in Elvish. He'd been around enough Drow to know that buttering up the females was almost as dangerous as disrespecting them. Simple courtesy was the tool for today. Besides, there was always time for disrespect later... assuming he wasn't killed.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2)
Concentrating: --

The dwarf wakes up to Bort's shaking and a splitting headache - though also to a clearer head. He yawns and immediately rubs his temples at the ensuing pounding in his head. Taking the bowl of gruel, he nod in thanks to Bort but remains silent, slowly eating his food and taking stock of the new cellmates. He wonders at the half-drow and his duergar name but says nothing.

As the guard announces the new work party, Dworic stands uneasily but under his own power, and walks dejectedly forward. His posture is defeated but his eyes show nothing but hatred.

[Amnestic]

Faedryl removes the blindfold with as much elegance as she can muster to view her new...accommodations. She almost preferred the wilds of the underdark. Well, hopefully she wouldn't be staying long. Her crimson eyes slide to the one addressing her. Thinblood. Probably the result of some female's tryst with a slave that blossomed into 'true love' or some such rubbish. She'd read such novels before, and found their premise (and often execution) lacking, but the market for them continued, both above and below, it seemed. In another life she'd have had him whipped for speaking before being addressed. But perhaps his failure to show complete deference would be an asset in this place, at this time.

She nods at the man, the most base acknowledgement possible, standing aside to allow the 'work group' to assemble. She liked the look in the dwarf's eyes at least. The gnome staying silent was a welcome blessing, even though the one she'd been forced to travel with talked enough for the both of them. And now she was going to be left alone with two of them as those she judged as potentially useful were being lead away instead. There was nothing to be done, for now. Perhaps they would return. Or perhaps they lacked any true power and would die instead. She moves inside sits up against a wall, her feet immediately changing their ache from 'constant' to 'recovering, and constant'. Faedryl opens her hand in her lap, trying to feel the pulse of magic but finds it blocked short every time she tries to finish even the most basic of spell. Not unexpected, all things considered. They knew who she was and what she was capable of. Blocking her spellcasting was the first thing they should've done.

Once the work group has left and they're left in the quiet of the dark she takes a deep breath, already quietly cursing herself for having to deal with gnomes like this. After a moment to compose herself she speaks, in immaculate undercommon, addressing both the remaining cave occupants in a quiet voice. It's a polite a tone as she can muster, which still isn't very polite in the grand scheme of things. "I presume you are not satisfied to remain captive. Detail your skills, if you have any, so that we I might begin preparing a plan of escape."

[RandomWombat]

The Third Day, Work Group

The three are led by the drow officer around the corner to their right, where they are met with the distinct stench of an animal pen. The initial assumption isn't far off when they are led through a door not dissimilar to their own, into a quaggoth den. The floor is littered with broken and picked clean bones, humanoid and animal alike, and two of the savage creatures are squatting against the wall watching them enter.

The drow picks up a pair of pickaxes from the wall, holding them out to Borthan and Topsy. "We are expanding the quaggoth quarters. Your job is to dig out the back wall. The dwarf resisted too much when he as being brought in, so as punishment he will have to use his hands," the drow instructs with a smug smirk. "You will expand the entire back wall by at least five feet before your work shift has ended. Fail to meet expectations, or cause any trouble, and all prisoners will receive reduced rations. And they will know exactly who failed to contribute." He folds his hands behind him, apparently not planning on unshackling their hands for this exercise.

"Well? Chop chop," he says. Then aside to the quaggoth, he adds, "No killing them. But if anyone slacks off, you can use them as a chew toy." Turning on his heel, the drow leaves and shuts the door, leaving them inside the room, dimly lit by the same fungi as their own cell.

All three must make Athletics checks to make progress on the back wall.
Dworic's Exhaustion gives him disadvantage, and working without a tool will deny him Proficiency.

A character may overexert themselves to gain Advantage on their check, at the cost of one level of Exhaustion on the next day.

The Third Day, Cell

"Well I'm glad you asked," the unnaturally cheerful gnome responds, smoothly lowering himself into a seated position without touching the wall or using his hands. He begins idly picking at his sleeve, tugging out playing cards one by one. "Aimless drifter, professional gambler, and occasional street magician. Jimjar, at your service!" The last card flicks out and he spreads a full deck of playing cards into a fan in his hand, waving it at his face coquettishly as he takes an over exaggerated sitting bow.

The playful gleam in Jimjar's eye is entirely uncharacteristic of a deep gnome, his kind usually dour and serious. And for all his apparent bumbling, he appears to have slipped an entire deck of cards up his sleeve without any of his captors - or Faedryl - noticing.

The other gnome is almost comically opposite his counterpart across the room. He's still sipping at a spoonful from a half-full bowl of mushroom broth gruel (an unpleasant reminder that Faedryl has not eaten yet today). Most irritatingly, he displays a habit of mumbling into his food and his lap rather than speaking properly.

The gnome mutters in Undercommon, "I know a little magic."

The Fourth Day

The ranger finds himself tracking his quarry through the night. The light of the moon above gives his keen eyes all the light they need to follow the tacks. A wily little deep gnome, by the moniker of Pudding King. Just ahead, a simmering and popping sound past the bushes. Borthan steps through and feels the ground turn soft and spongy.

Ahead, a gnome in a jagged crown sits atop a throne of bleached bones, laughing at Borthan. All around him in the clearing, the ground is a vile, bubbling tar-like substance that stinks of burning rubber and chemical smoke. The gnome's withered, grey face begins to melt into a featureless grey sludge as he laughs, a gurgling, gagging sound. Borthan can feel himself sinking down.

His gaze drops. Blazing yellow orbs begin to open all throughout the clearing, as black tendrils reach up around his legs. A burning sensation... and his leg begins to melt, dissolving into grey ooze beneath him as he opens his mouth to scream. No sound comes out. Only a surging torrent of tasteless sludge.

All is not well. After a night of fitful, restless sleep, Borthan wakes with a start and feels his stomach suddenly turn, an urge to vomit welling up inside of him. He feels as if he has not slept at all.

Borthan recovers no Exhaustion from his sleep on the night of the third day.

He must also make a DC 10 Sanity save. On a failure, he vomits and suffers another level of Exhaustion.

[Amnestic]

Third Day, Cell

"And already I am regretting asking." Faedryl drones at the gnome's show of 'talent', though she manages to hold back any worse comment, instead doing her best at compliments. Perhaps a worse punishment than anything her Mother had done to her. "But being quick your hands will probably serve well, maybe concealing tools or nabbing keys." It's praise drenched in maybes, and thus not really praise at all. But maybe the talkative gnome wouldn't notice the difference. The other one's mumbling falls too quiet to reach Faedryl's ears. "Speak up, if you can," she instructs imperiously. "You still seem to have your tongue, you should use it." She saw little point in detailing her own extensive and impressive list of talents in full - they wouldn't be crafting any plans any time soon. A dullard who challenged a huntress to cards and one who couldn't must their own voice. Such information would be wasted on them. Instead, she simply states "As for myself, I am a prodigious arcanist, among other skills."

She eyes the mumbler's bowl of food as her stomach grumbles, probably loud enough for the others to hear, though she draws no attention to it. A voice in the back - and front, if she were honest - of her mind whispers quietly. Take it, they're nothing. You are a scion of Melad. You are drow. Her own voice, mostly, but just enough of her Mother's to put Faedryl off the idea entirely. Allies were in short enough supply, incompetents or otherwise. She could survive another day without food. The outpost leader - whomever they were - wouldn't let her starve, or they'd be the one in the pits next. Her immediate survival was assured, she need only practice patience, a skill she was becoming quite familiar with.

She shuts her eyes to take the sight of food from her, to push it out of her mind and to focus on other things. The door was thick but all things could be broken. Maybe the dwarf could simply bash it down, or the gnome could steal a key. That might not be a bad suggestion - if he failed, she at least wouldn't need to listen to him talk anymore. They'd need to have enough momentum behind them to take out the guards, of course, and so the more prisoners they threw in here the better, though waiting too long meant some would disappear - herself, potentially, included. She couldn't wait around aimlessly. More information was needed - about the outpost, and about her fellow cellmates.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 1 level of Exhaustion
Concentrating on:

The Third Day
Bort picks up the pickaxe, looks to the other two prisoners, then looks at the quaggoths in the back of the cavern. Godsdamn spider kissing bastards... he says in Dwarvish. Then he sets to work. He works at a steady pace, not pushing himself too hard, but not slacking either. After working for a few hours, he looks down at the pieces of stone he has broken off and tries to search for one that is sharp and will fit in his boot. He already has a sheath in his boot, so he tries to find one that will fit in it. Bending over, he pretends to retie his boots while he attempts to palm the rock and slip it into the sheath.

The Fourth Day

Borthan wakes up screaming, but it is immediately cut short by retching. The remains of his gruel comes up, some of it through his nose, and splashes down onto the floor of the cell. He struggles to calm down and catch his breath, spitting out the last of the bile in his mouth. Speaking in Dwarvish, he shakily says to himself Get it together, Zuek. Get it together. Then he falls back onto his back and tries to get any rest he can before work that day.





First some rolls to determine exactly what I post. First, Athletics- [roll0] Bort is not going to choose to push himself for advantage. Next, a sanity roll- [roll1]

[RandomWombat]

The Third Day, Work Group

Sifting through the rubble, it only appears as though Borthan is clearing it away to the quaggoth watching them. He slips a sharp fragment that broke off into his boot sheath, where a dagger once was. It's a little bulky, a little uncomfortable, but short enough not to poke out and be seen.

Borthan makes 13/35 progress towards completing the job.

He also acquires a Stone Dagger. It serves as a dagger, but weighs twice as much and has a -1 penalty to hit.

The Third Day, Cell

"My quick hands are good at a lot of things," Jimjar responds, beginning to play solitaire on the floor of the cell.

At Faedryl's reprimand, the smaller gnome shrinks back and looks away, scratching the back of his neck. He clears his throat and speaks more loudly, but still barely a whisper. "I also know a little magic."

The Fourth Day

As he tries to lay back down, Borthan begins to twitch and convulse on the floor, startling the other prisoners. Turvy scampers away from him, while Topsy reaches over and grabs his shoulders, trying to keep him still so he doesn't slam his head on the rocks. "Hey. Hey, pull yourself together!"

Jumping to his feet, Jimjar runs over and helps Topsy get him steady. He grabs Borthan by the chin and smacks him on the cheek to snap him out of it.

Borthan suffers a Sanity failure. He takes 1 damage to his Sanity, and suffers a Short-term Madness and a Panic.

Borthan suffers Paralysis for 9 minutes or until he takes damage, entering a catatonic state and seizing when he tries to go back to sleep. Jimjar snaps him out of it with a light slap, dealing 1 damage.

Borthan has the Fearful Panic until he next rests, inflicting Disadvantage on fear checks and Sanity checks.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Confident they would not hurt any of her companions, Nilvae finally got some time to think about her own predicament. Fleeing was ill-advised at this time. She could just step out of the cocoon with the help of Puck's powers, but she would not get far, and she would have to abandon her friends. And honestly, this was kinda fun, even if deep down, Nilvae was distressed. Plus any obvious magic could cost her her tongue, so she began to sing an old elvish verse (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4k_ubLmJuo).

The holidays will seem bittersweet
While you're alone in bed
But how can one girl ever compete
With a magic fat guy in a flying sled?
Go ask a hundred single girls
From here to Menzober...ranzan
They'll say it's clear as day
You're in for sleepless nights
If you date a guy
Who has a thing for tights
Oh, never fall in love
Never fall in love
Never
Fall in
Love
With an
Elf

Oddly enough, her song was supported by a faint echo of distant instruments, namely a flute, violin and jingling bells.


Performance [roll0]

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2)
Concentrating: --

Third Day - Work Group

Dworic stares at the grinning drow with a mix of blasé contempt. He walks to wall and taps it lightly, trying to find the weaker spots where water had infiltrated or moss has grown and the rock has eroded. Pointing at the best places to start, he motions to Bort and Turvy. "Start there." His calloused hands reach out and he begins pulling at the weaker rock, straining tired muscles and building up feverish sweat throughout the day.

• Athletics: [roll0] | [roll1] Disadvantage
•INT to find weaker rock and best way to tackle the wall: [roll2] (add +2 if Mason's Tools can apply)
edit: LOL at Dworic being a buff dumb dude and getting an 18 with Disadvantage and no tool while messing up an Int roll :smallbiggrin:

[Amnestic]

Third Day, Cell

"See, was that so difficult? It's said in a harsher tone than perhaps Faedryl intends. She is trying to be encouraging, but it's not exactly her normal attitude. An entirely alien tone to her. "Drow are naturally adept at magic, so the more we have to counter them the better our chances."

Two down, three to go. That she knew of at least. Hopefully this wasn't the last of the prisoners. Six versus an entire outpost...not impossible, but she'd like a few more bodies between her and their crossbow bolts.

Fourth Day, Cell

Faedryl watches the scene play out with Borthan and Jimjar, suppressing a smirk at the slap. It was deeply amusing watching the scene play out, until the ramifications of it settled in on her, at which point it became less funny. They - she - didn't have room for dead weight, and someone who couldn't control themselves was exactly that, though perhaps they could toss his body as a distraction.

Her stomach's still complaining at her but she deigns to move to Borthan, standing over him. "Explain yourself, thinblood. Are you contagious?" If it was a sickness that they could all catch it might work in their favour, if they weren't already infected. It would require moving them all elsewhere, to a secondary jail, one perhaps less secured than this one.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 28/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 1 Level of Exhaustion
Concentrating on:

The Fourth Day

Borthan feels his faculties return after the slap, and immediately begins pushing the gnomes away. I'm fine, damnit, I'M FINE! He shouts a little louder than he'd intended, but his shoves are firm but not harsh. He was glad for the help, even if it stung his face. Rising to a sitting position, he shakes himself, slaps his own face a few more times, and utters a few choice curses in Dwarvish. Then the Drow female approached him and began asking questions. He turned to her, barely contained fury in his eyes, and spoke in very measured Elven. I'm not contagious, fatblood. Unless nightmares are transmittable. He looks to the door to check for prying eyes, then if he finds they are alone, he reaches down into his boot and draws the stone dagger. If the elf was a spy, it would almost assuredly be taken and he would be beaten or killed, but the rest would know who was responsible for tattling, and the Drow would surely be close behind him on the way to hell. He brandishes the knife, makes sure everyone sees it, then makes a show of using it to shave his neck to test the edge. It may also make him king of the cave, and that would be an upside. In Dwarvish then in Gnomish he says If the guards find out about the knife without a real search, the Drow is a spy and should be dealt with accordingly. Then he returns the dagger to his boot, makes sure it is out of sight, and then stands up to take his position at the door, moving sluggishly.

[RandomWombat]

The Third Day, Work Group

Even without tools, Dworic proves surprisingly efficient - or not surprisingly, if one knew anything about dwarves. His hands seem to naturally find loose stones, and pry out any stubborn pieces that the other two pick at. Topsy is less adept, struggling to use a pick that is nearly as large as she is. But between the three of them, the are able to expand the quarters by about five feet - just as instructed.

Topsy attempts to pick up one of the bones from the ground, but the quaggoth nearest the pile snarls and scares her away from it.

When the drow supervisor returns and steps inside with a smug look on his face, his smirk is washed away and replaced with mixed disappointment and begrudging recognition. "Hmph. So you managed it. Fine, no ration cuts." His expression shifts again into a sly grin. "Your prices can go up, now that we know you're able bodied workers."

The three of them are led back to the cell after the day's hard labor.

The Fourth Day

The two gnomes get up and back away from Borthan after he stops seizing. Jimjar brushes off his pant legs, "Hey, there he is. You were having some sort of bad dream?"

Topsy looks at the stream of puke across the floor and covers her mouth with her sleeve. "What kind of nightmare makes you do that." Her words are more of a statement than a question. But she nods subtly to Borthan's warning about the drow woman, making her way back over to Turvy's spot.

A few minutes after Borthan shows off his dagger, a familiar (to him) scarred drow makes an appearance before the cell door. He slides a tray of food through the slot. This time it's not mushroom gruel, but some strips of dried meat and some grilled mushrooms. Whether it's a reward for their work the other day or just a regular cycling of the 'menu' is uncertain.

The scared drow nods his head upwards, looking Faedryl in the eye. "Hey. Stop messing around and get over here," he orders, more loudly than he needs to.

His tone seemed to be more for the guards posted nearby than for the prisoners. Those who are attentive can see his head turn slightly, and eyes flick to the side to catch the walkway in his periphery.

Meanwhile...

In spite of themselves, one of the drow finds himself tapping his toe to the tune of Nilvae's song. The one beside him slaps him upside the head, and he runs a hand over the spot under his long hair. "What?!"

"She's going to draw attention from predators or worse, you imbecile." The slappy drow looks up at her and shushes loudly. "Keep it down, we're supposed to be hidden. For your own good I might add - unless you'd like to be eaten by some big nasty."

[Amnestic]

Fourth Day, Cell

"They could be." For a moment curiosity overrides her, and rather than taking in any of the show of the thinblood's concealed dagger she's scrutinising his skin, his pupils, his hair, looking for any discolouration, blotches or other indication of sickness. Not that she had much training in the medical arts, she was mostly looking for anything obvious. She comes up short though. Perhaps he was just mad instead, though the third gnome, the unknown factor, had a point - ordinary nightmares don't have you throwing up on the floor. Not any she'd had at least, and there'd been a few bad nights especially after her run in with the tome that had started this whole mess.

The sight of food, sparse though it was, is enough to draw her attention from the mad daggerman though. At the guard's beckoning she turns away from them, striding with as much poise as her weary feet could must. Faedryl stops, briefly, to scoop up what she judged a fair portion of food, and that wasn't, surprisingly, far more than the others. No need to make enemies by taking more than her share. She chews slowly. Even if the food wasn't up to her standards after so long it tasted immaculate to her, and her stomach hungrily consumes everything she feeds it without complaint. Slow eating would let it last longer, and if they only got food once a day, she'd need it to last. She...wasn't sure why she knew eating slowly would help. Had she read it somewhere? Or was it...not important right now. She needs to focus on the guard instead.

She stands close to the door, though out of arm's reach in the event he tried to reach through the bars, even if it was unlikely. She looks him over. Male, not particularly impressive. Unlikely to serve in any great capacity, but then what male did in an outpost like this. She isn't really sure what her acknowledgement should be. He was a male, beneath her, yet she was a prisoner stripped of rank and title. She shouldn't be at his beck and call, and yet, here and now, she had to follow his orders. Should she be assertive? Submissive? If she could sway this one then their job would become so much easier. "Guardsman." He could take that as he wanted, deferential if it suited his tastes, but without showing any actual deference, merely acknowledgement - though for a scion of House Melad that might be deference all on its own.

[RandomWombat]

The Fourth Day

Leaning forward near to the bars - probably too near - the guardsman speaks to Faedryl in a low, conspiratorial voice. "The latest caravan from Menzoberranzan is overdue. Scouts say the main road is blocked by a collapse."

The dream was extremely evocative of oozes. That thought is when it strikes him, like a bolt of sudden inspiration. The dark caustic tar and glowing yellow eyespots, they are something he has seen in one of his hunts, when he captured a demon cultist. Their shrine had contained a black pudding, kept in a fountain and fed their victims, and spherical yellow lights had dimly illuminated the otherwise dark chamber.

It had been a shrine to Jubilex, the Demon Lord of Slime.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Nilvae finishes her song with a last verse, then falls quiet. After a while she responds. Why do you think I scare of predators? A simple request, my dear friends. Can you put my nightly quarters right side up. All this blood in my head is making me want to sing another verse. she insists, giving the last few words some sort of melody as if she wanted to start another song.

If you want you can hang me up again, just the right side around.

Persuasion for a sensible request. [roll0]

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2)
Concentrating: --

Third Day - Back to the cell

Dworic simply glares at the drow guard when he returns, making a show of his dusty hands and then of scratching his neck, leaving the guard to make the connection between hands strong enough to crush stone and wide enough to envelop an elven-sized neck. In silence, he marches back to the cell, finds a mostly dry spot in a corner and lies down. His breathing is even but other signs - such as the taught tendons and distended veins in his arms and hands, the cold sweat on his brow and the deep dark circles under his eyes - point to obvious exhaustion. Not long after that he falls fitfully asleep.

Fourth Day

The dwarf awakes early - or at least what his own inner sense of time tells him is early. He rolls flat on his back and simply stays there, staring at the ceiling. "Why would you let me be taken, Haela?" he mutters very low in dwarvish, under his breath. Feelings of betrayal, hatred and scorn all dance in his mind.

When the half-elf is sick, Dworic sits up and looks on in silence. Despite trying to look uninterested, there is concern in the way he looks at Borthan. When the food arrives, Dworic gives Bort some of his own share. "Try to keep it down. You need your strength." With a curt nod, he then returns to his corner and chews slowly on his jerky. His ears perk up as the guard summons the drow prisoner and watches the exchange curiously.

• Insight: [roll0]

Does Dworic recover another level of Exhaustion? I don't think it's addressed on any of the previous spoilers.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Fourth Day, Cell

That was good. It would mean a change in normality for the outpost. Slow messages, if any were sent, strain supplies. There were other routes here no doubt, but they'd be longer, and probably more dangerous for any supply transports. It'd buy them time more than anything. She hesitantly takes a step closer to the bars, hopeful that she could jump out of reach if he were to try anything. She can't help but voice the question now burning on her tongue. "Why tell me?" Everyone had an angle, especially drow. Leadership dispute perhaps? He planned to use her to oust the current outpost head? Faedryl might even be amenable to that, though she'd not stick around afterwards.

[RandomWombat]

Dworic is down to 1 Exhaustion after the second rest, yes.

The Fourth Day

On the other side of the bars, now up close, Faedryl can see the drow's downturned face, the deep bags and dark veins under his eyes from infrequent trancing. And she can see boiling anger in his eyes. "I have my reasons. I assume you want to get out of here?" he whispers back, face mere inches from Faedryl's and voice too low for the others further in to hear - and especially not the other guards. "The road blockage means many more patrols are going to be dropping off their catches here. When you're ready, I can 'forget' to lock the door after a work day."

While they watch the drow whisper with each other, the big-nosed gnome saunters over to Borthan and nudges him in the shin with an elbow. He wears a wide, playful grin full of clean, well-cared for white teeth. He has not yet partaken of his share of 'breakfast'. "So, how about a little wager to make things more interesting?" he asks, running a finger and a thumb together. "I'll bet'cha fifty gold (once we're out of here obviously) she's not a spy."

After his messages to Faedryl are relayed, the scarred drow speaks up, his voice now clearly audible again. "It's time for another work day. Traitor drow, two male gnomes. It's your turn. Come up to the door and everyone else keep back." Breaking off from his conference with Borthan after waiting for an answer, Jimjar walks over to line up behind Faedryl. Topsy has to give her brother a pep talk in his ear before he reluctantly stands to follow.

The Fifth Day

It is a wonderful day.

Everything around Dworic is illuminated by a pale orange light that resonates through the tunnels, all-encompassing. Around him other festive partygoers dance and sing with one another upon the squishy, grey floor. Its folds and creases look much like a brain that's grown across the floor, the walls, the ceiling; it encompasses all. Smaller mushrooms with bright glow crop up here and there, like decorations amidst the pews of the chapel.

The impending nuptials of Dworic's queen are cause for much celebration, and infectious, uncharacteristic joy bubbles up inside him. But the time for dancing comes to an end and the venue's fungoid staff guide him down into his seat.
'
The bride begins her walk down the aisle. Tall, thin, with a veil of deliciously rotten, corpse-sweet fungal flesh hanging around her face. Dworic can feel spores catching in his teeth as he smiles widely at his Queen. She strides past rows of gathered celebrants, to the groom. A tall stalk of the grey matter that has been molded into a vaguely humanoid shape. On her arrival, the bride forgets the order of her ceremonies and tosses a bouquet of festive, colorful fungi. Everyone reaches up and, in spite of his shortness, it finds its way into Dworic's outstretched hands.

There in front of him are fungi in shades of blue, green, red and yellow, all popping against the suffused orange glow. In one of their smooth, bright surfaces, he can see a reflection of himself. His skull split open like a flowering plant, and stalks of orange growths rising up out of him.

This time it is the dwarf that wakes up with a sudden start, feeling a crawling sensation throughout his skull. A desperate, all-consuming itch.

Dworic does not recover from any Exhaustion during his third rest, leaving him at 1.

He must make a DC 12 Sanity save against the nightmare. If he claws at his head and tears at it with his nails to make the itching stop, he will suffer two instances of his own unarmed damage (4), but will lower the save DC to 10.

Meanwhile...

The drow at camp look at one another and the one who'd pestered her to be quiet shrugs. "Fine, guess she's had enough." He gets up and walks over to her, wrapping a cloth gag tightly around Nilvae's head and in her mouth. "I'm cutting you loose to be retied. Don't try anything."

Bringing out a dagger, he cleanly slices through the silk, leaving Nilvae to fall down onto the stone floor below. Another drow keeps her from cracking her neck (can't sell a dead or paralyzed slave... not for as much, anyways), but lets her legs flop painfully onto the stone floor. They begin standing her against the wall to be spider'd again.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Fourth Day, Cell

She takes care not to let her emotions show too clearly, instead nodding in agreement as he speaks before standing back for the work shift. Given who she was, and who she was with, hopefully it wouldn't be too physically intensive. She'd been right though, some dispute over leadership seemed the only thing that would make him turn traitor like this. She'd seen anger like that before. She'd felt it before. Maybe he'd lost his lover as she had. A twinge of sympathy tickled her chest, but she stamped it down quickly. Sympathy could wait. For now she'd play the diligent worker and when she got back to the cell, inform the others what she'd heard. Even the mad thinblood. It was all coming together. Was it fate? Divine providence? Seemed unlikely. Maybe she was just lucky, though that she was here in the first place put a damper on that idea.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 28/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 1 Level of Exhaustion
Concentrating on:

The Fourth Day

When Dworic passes some of his own food to Borthan, the half-elf nearly objects. If he was sick once he might be sick again, and then the food would only go to waste. But then his stomach growled at the sight of the improved rations, and he accepts the extra food with only a Thanks, biggun. in Dwarvish. He wolfs down his food with a fervor, seeking to replace what had been retched across the floor. He also watched the female drow talk to the guard, eyebrow raised and trying to listen in to no avail. Then the big nosed gnome nudged him and offered him a bet. He chuckles, despite everything, and shakes his head. Don't got fifty gold in my purse, they've probably already emptied what I had into their own pocket, and don't know when I'm going to get paying work again. I never ring up debts I can't pay. He chews for a moment, considering. I'll try to think if there is anything I DO have to bet, but nothing comes to mind. Personally I don't think she's a spy, either. If she was a male, maybe, but for a female to be in this hole she musta done something REAL bad.

[RandomWombat]

The Fourth Day

Before he steps away for his shift, the gnome looks up at Borthan slyly. "These are the drow we're talking about. Could be she did something real good," he taps the side of his head and winks, before shuffling out with the others.

The Fourth Day, Work Shift

Their procession walks through, escorted by the crippled drow across the walkway. Off to the side, Faedryl can see out into a huge cavern, with spiderwebs sprawling beneath them that hide them from observers below, and below that a pool of dark water.

Ahead of them are three drow, an officer and two rank and file, assembled around a table playing cards. Behind them is a ladder leading up to another tier of the 'building', which has been carved into one of the large stalactites in the ceiling of the cavern. Jimjar has taken to eating his food while being led away, gnawing off a bit of jerky. One of the drow as they pass is seized by cruel impulse and slaps the food right out of the gnome's hands. "Clumsy you, dropping food like that. Not going to let it go to waste are you?"

Leaning down, Jimjar scoops up the piece of food and continues eating it without complaint, much to the disappointment of the offending drow. "Tch, least it's learned to accept the scraps it's thrown."

They go along another, longer walkway, past the waterfall. Flecks of wetness fall on their left side and faces. Finally, they come to another stalactite, where an ornate door has been constructed in the side with patterns of spiders and webbing carved painstakingly into the wood. A pair of quaggoth guards loom around this end of the walkway, while a young drow priestess stands beside the door drinking from a cup of tea, paying them as much mind as a surfacer would grass underfoot. Faedryl does not recognize her as the huntress from the tunnels, nor as part of her entourage.

The interior of the stalactite is draped in fine cloth and filled with silk cushions and blankets in many brilliant colors. At the center of the chamber is a statue of Lolth, the Spider Queen, standing tall and imperiously watching over the shrine. Towards the back of the room is a trapdoor leading down below.

There is a giant spider nestled under some of the cushions and blankets, apparently asleep.

"You are to clean and polish the statue of Her Cleverness, Lolth the Spider Goddess," the scarred drow instructs them, picking up a wooden bucket filled with washcloths from the floor and holding it out to Faedryl. Near where it was resting is another cloth, and a container of polish. "When you are finished, our mistress Priestess Vandree will inspect your work. She expects it to be spotless. Failure to achieve expectations will result in cut rations for all prisoners. Do not attempt to enter the trapdoor if you value life and limb." He doesn't wait for any questions, before he shuts the door behind them and they are left alone.

Jimjar claps his hands together and rubs them. "Shall we?"

Gingerly, Turvy plucks one of the washclothes out of the bucket and wrings it into the water. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it and shuffles to the base of the statue to start scrubbing it.

It will be a Perception check to contribute to the maintenance of Lolth's shrine, to find blemishes or missed spots that may get them in trouble. A character may choose to work extra hard, gaining Advantage at the cost of a point of Exhaustion.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

I thank you! Nilvae says in the most friendly cheery voice these drow have probably ever heard. You know besides being grumpy slave-trading spider worshippers, you are not so bad yourselves. the half-elf praises her jailors. Have no fear I will create any trouble for you. I know when I am defeated. I may be mad, but I am not stupid. Outrunning a drow warband in the middle of the Underdark is not working. At least not for a surface elf like me. I just try to make my situation as good as can be right now. Did I mention I am a skilled herbalist and singer? Maybe you could note that and sell me according to these skills. I am not one for digging holes or for serving tea.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day

The dwarf wakes with a start, a low haunting moan escaping his lips as he runs his hands through his beard and hair, unfocused eyes wide with fear as he begins to pound his head with his fists and rake his broken fingernails on his scalp trying and trying to stop the itch within. "not real not real not real not real not real not real not real," he says over and over again for a few minutes until he finally calms down. His breath starts to even and his eyes regain focus as he stares at the blood and hair on his hands.

With a big, shuddering breath, he can't help but remark "What in the hells is wrong with his place?"

• History: [roll0]
• Religion: [roll1]

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Fourth Day, Work Shift

Faedryl looks up at the statue, disgust rising in her throat. In some ways everything came back to Lolth and her poisonous influence on her people. Maybe that's what they had her cleaning this statue specifically. It annoyed her that, if that was the intention, that it was working. If the opportunity came she'd have to remember to smash it on their escape. Maybe even in front of some of the other drow, really drive the point home. She takes the bucket from the scarred drow, allowing her hand to briefly brush against his, but making no sign of acknowledging it.

Once the guards are gone, she looks at the statue again. She doesn't particularly want to touch it, but there's a lot of things she doesn't want to do that ended up getting done. "If our performance affects everyone's rations, I'll push myself." She declares, to neither of the gnomes in particular. Losing rations for the group wouldn't endear herself, and she needed them pliable, not distrustful.


Perception: [roll0]
With advantage for working hard: [roll1]

Fifth Day, Cell

She's snapped out of her trance by the dwarf's mutterings, opening one lazy eye first to take in the scene. At least he wasn't throwing up all over the cell. "Just a 'bad dream'?" She asks with a bemused barbed tongue, taking a chance to look directly at the thinblood. First him, now the dwarf. Which of them would catch the madness next? "What did you see?"

[RandomWombat]

Fourth Day, Work Shift

Swallowing her pride, Faedryl is able to apply herself well to the cleaning of the statue. She can almost feel Lolth sneering down at her with satisfaction as she shines the spider queen's 'boots'. Turvy nervously avoids washing any 'inappropriate' areas, avoiding them subconsciously with a nervous dark-grey flush to his face. Too jovial for his own good, Jimjar whistles a jaunty working tune as he goes, moving to cover the places Turvy is too sheepish to wash.

As the work nears its conclusion, Jimjar reaches down to grab one of the pillows, carefully sliding out the silken threads of one of the gold-colored tassels. He still whistles as he goes, and when he sets the pillow back down it's as if nothing is amiss. Only by counting the tassels of every pillow would someone realize it had been tempered with.

Jimjar winks at the others as he slips the string away into hiding.

Together the group achieves 38/35, enough to complete the job. Faedryl gains 1 Exhaustion.
Jimjar is able to subtly acquire another silken Garrote.

The big-nosed deep gnome hops suddenly to attention as footsteps are heard outside the door. The priestess outside enters, apparently having finished her tea. She motions with her arms for them to move away to the walls, as if parting the sea with her hands. Behind her, the scarred drow waits outside of the shrine.

She circles the statue with her hands folded behind her, haughtily looking at their work with pursed lips. At last she declares, "Acceptable. Take them back to their cell, Duskryn." She flashes the scarred drow a playful smile across the room, and he clears his throat, lowering his eyes in deference.

"Of course, mistress."

The junior priestess is clearly trying to play on the other drow's need for affection or acceptance.

Beneath his deferential head bow, the male drow's face is stony and set. He is absolutely not falling for her wiles.

Fifth Day

"This is the second time," Topsy points out, the female gnome echoing Faedryl's sentiments. "Something is wrong. Both of you, we need to know what these nightmares were of," she insists, eyes flicking between Dworic and Borthan.

Meanwhile...

Nilvae's cooperation comes as a surprise to the drow slaves. "Maybe this one has what it takes to survive in service after all."

"Assuming her mistress enjoys music," another quips. Though they seem disarmed around the warlock girl, they still call down a giant spider to tie her up again, and keep her from wandering off. "Tell you what. As a reward for being such a model slave, you can lie down before we tie you up. Get some sleep, we have a long march tomorrow," one of the drow points at the ground beneath her as the spider crawls over.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Fourth Day, Work Shift

Faedryl stays quiet and stonefaced as she follows instructions from the priestess dutifully, though she's a bit sluggish from the exertion. At least it was acceptable, they'd done what was required, that was something. And perhaps the gnomes would give her some sway with the rest of the cell. She had a name for her pet traitor though - Duskryn, and she hadn't missed the looks between them. Faedryl felt sure now - she was the reason he was betraying the outpost. It was unlikely she could find a chance to ask why, exactly, but that was more of a curiosity for her than importance. Knowing the cause would help her sell it to the rest of the cell though. An unexplained betrayal was one thing, but now that she knew why, easier to get them on board. "Male drow hates female drow in power" wasn't exactly an unknown story.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

The elven maid surveys the camp from her place, checking for obvious exits now that she has been cut loose. It did not matter much, invoking Puck's magic could easily alleviate her off the bindings, but her fleeing and being caught would only worsen her prospects of having a worthwhile prison, nor would it benefit her donkey-spider and dog companions. For now, she decided to rest her eyes and accept the fate of a prisoner.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

The Fifth Day

Borthan shoots Dworic a heavy look after he stops clawing at himself. The half-drow had watched the entire event in silence. Did he look like that? Did he seem so... deranged? Shaking his head of these thoughts, he sits down against the door and sighs. Gods, what he would do for a little tobacco now. He looked evenly at Topsy and then down at the ground. It took him time. Time to recall exactly what he felt. Every bit of fear. And it took him longer still to speak it in Undercommon. I was hunting. A bounty. On a Gnome called the Pudding King. I tracked him down and then he trapped me. He melted into this... sludge. When I looked down it it was like black tar rising out of these yellow lights. Then it dragged me down and I started melting into sludge. Then the sludge began flooding out of my mouth. Then I woke up. I was... fine for a few seconds, then I seized up and couldn't move until I got slapped. He had let all this out in one breath, so he took a deep inhale, sighed again, and said The lights were from a real place. Hunted a weird cultist to his base of operations. Dark place. Underground. The black... well they had this ooze that lived in a dry fountain. And they would lower people into the fountain... to feed it. Did it while praying to Jubilex. Demon lord of slimes. Anyway... He is glad no one can see him blush. He was not used to being so open with people. Hell, he wasn't even used to speaking with people for longer than it took to kill them or gag them. His hand reached reflexively towards the knife, wondering it it would bring him comfort. But he clenched his fist instead.If fat-blood was right then one of you better get ready to ride the lightning, because my dream hurt. Hurt bad.

[RandomWombat]

The Fourth Day, Cell

The group from the work shift returns, and the scarred drow - now known to Faedryl as Duskryn - re-locks the door and leaves them be. Turvy quickly retreats from the spotlight of his arrival to shrink into the background.

Going over to Dworic, Jimjar slips a strand of silk out of his sleeve and holds it out to the dwarf. "Think you'll have better luck choking somebody out with this than me. Put it somewhere nobody'll see," he says in a low voice. Then he turns on his heel and regards the whole cell. "Why don't we get some proper introductions, huh? Work group was out last time we bothered. Jimjar, gambler and drifter, but not a grifter, at your service!"

"Topsy, and Turvy," the more vocal of the gnome twins points between herself and her brother.

The Fifth Day

"Jubilex, you say?" an unfamiliar voice to most speaks up from the twins' little nook. It's Turvy, the quiet gnome. He's sitting with his legs folded up in front of him, arms wrapped around them. For the first time he speaks up with a bit of interest. "As far as I know, nothing like nightmares are in the Faceless Lord's domain..." he ponders aloud, staring ahead at his knees with his tall brow furrowed.

Meanwhile...

It is a bright day, sunlight sparkling down through dew-wet leaves as Nilvae twirls and spins. Bluebirds flutter around, lifting up a shawl around her shoulders as a pair of does prance to and fro in imitation of her steps.

The words of a song she doesn't quite recognize reverberate through the glade, accompanied by the whistling panpipes of satyrs lining the edges of the glade. Twitters of birdsong join with her own voice in celebration, and a tiny grig lands on her shoulder playing a fiddle with his legs.

Splatter on roses and whiskers from kittens
Warm copper flavors and fresh furry mittens
Cute shrunken heads all tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Nilvae reaches up and takes the grig from her shoulder, his fiddling reaching a fever pitch just before she plucks his legs from his little body and tosses him aside. The deer prancing around hunch over and cackle with deep, shuddering laughter. Their spines stretch out against the flesh of their backs, fur falling out in mangy patches.

Cream fur flecked with spots and laughter most brutal
Sweet country belles slurpin' guts like they're noodles
High soaring kites stretched out of live skins
These're a few of my favorite things

Another voice, harsh and gravelly joins Nilvae in her song as she dances around. The bird song is cut short with a sudden squawk as the does leap up to snap them out of the air in long, sharpening teeth. Their faces grow wider and their bodies bulk out with powerful muscle. They are not entirely deer anymore, not at all. The more that she sings, the more canine they become.

Girls in white dresses with bloody red splashes
Gore that clings to my face and eyelashes
Crunching their bones till they bunch up like springs
These are a few of my favorite things

The deer shudder and cackle as they begin to stand up on two legs, mouths curling back as they shriek to the sky. High above the sun slowly dies into dark, filling the clearing with shadow. Only the gleaming reflective eyes of the two hyenas standing in front of Nilvae show through.

The panpipes have stopped, as the bushes at the edge of the clearing crunch underfoot and the trees are toppled by a looming figure with a smile that goes on for miles.

"Guess who's baaaaack?" a snarling voice asks in a bloodcurdling singsong voice, vast malevolent eyes peering through Nilvae's own and piercing her soul down to something beyond.

Suddenly, Nilvae awakens in a fit of giggles, writhing against the web cocoon she's lying in. The drow slavers are in the middle of packing up camp when her awakening startles them, and one of them pulls out a club. "What are you cackling about, girl?" Another of the drow starts laughing as well, catching the attention of the one with his club out. "What? What in the pits is so funny?" Two more of them double over with laughter, and the ones not caught up in the fit spin around, beads of sweat forming as they try to puzzle out what's happening.

Nilvae must make a DC 12 Sanity save. All the drow nearby are forced to make it as well.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Fourth Day, Cell

She returns to the cell on dragged feat, eager for trance, and probably some sleep on top of it too, but there were things that came first. She adds her voice to the introductions. "Faedryl, former scion of House Melad." She takes a seat, cross legged, though maintains just a touch of distance. She's not too eager to get close to the mad thinblood, lest he start lashing out with his dagger again. "I'm a spellcaster of some skill, among other things."

Once names have been exchanged, she speaks up further, keeping her voice low from any wary guards listening in. "I have news. The main supply route between here and Menzoberranzan has been blocked, apparently by a collapse of some sort. Patrols will be sending more prisoners here while it gets cleared, they'll be cut off from assistance and they won't be sending us to the city in the next few days." She pauses to let it settle in before continuing. "The guard who told me seems to want us to break out so we can...remove the priestess in charge of the outpost when we break out. His hate for her seems genuine, and if I give him a signal he'll get us the key for the door." Another pause, she takes a deep breath. "Six of us against an outpost, even with one traitor guard, may not be doable, but if they bring more in the next few days, maybe scavenge some more tools, it might be enough. There may be a real chance here."

It felt...odd to be talking like this. It wasn't her norm. It wasn't natural to her, but it does feel good, just a little, to try to encourage them. To lead, or at least guide, through something other than fear and pure power. Through something other than her family name. Though that might depend on how effective it turns out to be.

Fifth Day, Cell

"Worshipping Jubilex seems like a waste of time to me." Faedryl adds idly, mostly musing outloud. "If it's connected to a demon lord maybe it's not a contagion then. Maybe it's something about this place that's doing it? Some sort of...curse or corruption on the stones?" She runs a hand against the cold rock, trying to coax any insight from it, but she may as well try to coax blood from it for all the good it did her.

[RandomWombat]

Nilvae is Deafened for 20 hours, as she continues to hear the sound of hyenas cackling in her ears.

She loses 1 San and suffers the Fearful Panic, taking Disadvantage to fear and Sanity saves.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 Sanity: 7 (-1)
Conditions: deafened, fearful
Concentration: -

These are a few of my favorite things... Nilvae wakes up shaking involuntarily. She struggles against her bindings.

TAKE THEM AWAY! TAKE AWAY THE LAUGHTER! she shouts panicked as she slips into yet another giggling fit. She convulses, and finally, she understands, she needs to flee, to get away from there. Away from the hyenas, that wanted to tear her flesh. From the spiders, and other beasts. Her body turns into a fine mist that suddenly travels north and she materializes again. If the cave were lit, it would sparkle a bit. Standing up, she books it out of the camp.

Spide. Brutus. Forgive me. she thinks as she flees into unknown caverns. Unable to see much, unable to hear.

[RandomWombat]

In the Dark

The sudden flash of mist catches the drow by surprise as Nilvae rushes off into the darkness. They shout after her, but the sounds of their voices are drowned out by the hyena's terrible cackling. Two drow are left behind at camp as they suffer lapses of sanity, and four chase after Nilvae, accompanied by a pair of giant spiders.

Two crossbow bolts slash by, glancing across Nilvae's side, and she feels a sluggishness in her feet that she must shake off to keep to her flight.

Two drow remain behind, suffering from Sanity breaks.

Four drow give chase and shoot. Two are too far and suffer Disadvantage that causes them to miss, while two were closer to the opening of the alcove and get in range of normal shots.
Two giant spiders give chase, Dashing to catch up but still out of melee range.
Nilvae is hit twice for 4 and 6 damage by hand crossbows. She must make two DC 13 Con saves vs Drow Poison. Failure is Poisoned for 1 hour, while failure by 5 or more is also Unconscious for 1 hour.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day

Dworic is silent for an uncomfortably long time after the drow's question. He's inwardly thankful that Borthan decided to share his own nightmare first, giving him time to shake off most of the night's horrors.

When he finally speaks, his deep voice is low and rumbling. "It was some form of wedding celebration. The bride was a queen - my queen. She and the groom and the guests were different types of fungi and mushrooms as was the great hall itself. I saw myself breathe in their spores and then my skull split asunder and fungi sprouted from my brain."

[RandomWombat]

The Fifth Day, Cell

Outside, Eldeth is led with her head covered by a bag, and tied up to prevent her from getting it to fall off. Her hands are bound in front of her, and behind her another drow prisoner is being escorted. She hasn't seen who it is, only heard his smooth dulcet voice speaking in duergar-butchered Dwarvish. With the sound of a door creaking open ahead, she is shoved forwards.


Not long after Dworic's explanation, there are footsteps from outside. Many more footsteps than the previous visits from the drow. The door creaks open and a pair of new prisoners are shoved in. One is a female dwarf, with a bag tied around her head. The other is a derro with a broad, bristly beard and mustache, with a black blindfold over his eyes. The derro slips off his blindfold and stretches his neck. "My, my, my. We are in quite a pickle aren't we?" he states as calmly as if he were saying it's raining today, in dwarvish. His voice is soft and gentle. Reaching over, he unties the dwarf's bag hood and pulls it off of her.

The drow shut the door behind them, but do not leave right away. One of them calls into the room, "Traitor, mutt, dwarf - old dwarf. Line up by the door, it's work time. And best work fast if you want there to be any food when you get back," the drow officer smirks. Behind him, the prisoners can see the scarred drow waiting with a tray of food.

With the earlier revelation of Jubilex's nightmare, a guess at the topic of this dream comes more easily to those with knowledge of demonology. The rival of Jubilex is Zuggtmoy, the Demon Queen of Fungi, with whom the Faceless Lord begrudgingly shares a layer of the Abyss.

Zuggtmoy's 'blessing' often takes the form of spores that take root in their host and gradually overtake them from the inside - not unlike a cordyceps mushroom in ants. During the gestation period of the fungus, Zuggtmoy cultists gradually develop many physical benefits, such as increased strength and rapid regeneration of wounds.

The location of the wedding sounds like the Araumycos, a massive fungal growth that stretches across much of the Underdark. Its body consists largely of spongy grey fungal tissue that looks much like a brain covering the walls and floor of the cavern, but other symbiotic fungi grow within and around the greater mass.

It could even be said that much of the underground to the southeast of Darklake and Menzoberranzan is Araumycos. Where the tunnels end and the organism begins can be difficult to discern. The mysterious Myconids appear to consider the Araumycos to be holy ground.

The Araumycos is suspected by some theologians to be an Avatar of Psilofyr, an Archfey and the patron deity of the Myconids. 'He' shares the domain of fungi with his rival Zuggtmoy. His primary concern is the benefit of the Myconid species, though he is also known to be surprisingly altruistic - if utterly alien - to those who do not mean his people harm.

Derro are a kind of duergar.

Derro were once dwarves or duergar, but were driven mad and twisted by foul forces, believed to have once been slaves to the mindflayers not unlike the duergar - but subject to dark experiments. They now live among the duergar as second class citizens or slaves, only barely tolerated by the grey dwarves.

The two obscure, twin gods of the derro are Diiranka and Diinkarazan, former members of the dwarven pantheon disowned by Moradin. There are two conflicting stories of the gods' fall to darkness.

One story states that the two gods were jealous after the other dwarven gods cast them out, and sought to create a new type of dwarf. They stole terrible artifacts from the ithillid diety, Ilsensine, who caught them in the act. Diiranka stabbed his brother and left him to the mercy of Ilsensine, fleeing with the artifacts and creating the derro on his own. Diinkarazan was captured and trapped in the Abyss to endure eternal torment, plotting his revenge on his brother and the derro from an Abyssal layer called the Prison of the Mad God, where he is Lord, Prisoner, and sole resident.

The other story likewise states that Diiranka and Diinkarazan stole terrible artifacts from the ithillid deity. However, it was not to steal power, but to break free duergar worshipers who had been captured and enslaved by the mindflayers, and had been transformed into the mad derro by mindflayer experimentation. When they fled, Diinkarazan stayed behind to fend off Ilsensine, and was never betrayed by his brother, instead facing an eternity in the Prison of the Mad God for a selfless sacrifice. Diiranka in turn was able to save the derro, but was driven mad by the dark powers he stole from Ilsensine.

Both the derro and their two gods are quite mad, and often dangerously homicidal.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

The Fifth Day- Cell

Borthan considers Dworic's dream for a few moments before speaking up. Did a bit of research into demons for that hunt. On the same layer of the Abyss as Jubilex there is another demon lord- Zuggtmoy, the demon queen of fungi. Can't be a coincidence. He continues working over this in his mind until the doors to the cell open and the new prisoners are shoved in. He is about to say hello to the dwarf woman when he spots the derro. He closes his mouth so fast his teeth clack together painfully. Then he speaks in undercommon, loud and angry. You're puttin HIM in here with US? He spits a curse and stands up from his sitting position before speaking again and heading to get in line. Be careful. All of you. This one can't be predicted.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day

The dwarf listens as Borthan talks about Juiblex and Zuggtmoy and simply shrugs noncommittally. It's obvious this isn't his area of expertise.

He stands when the call for the workers is made and lines up silently once more. As he sees the newcomers, he instinctively twists his nose in distrust at seeing the derro - a sentiment that is short-lived, seeing the dwarf he hangs his had down listlessly, his feeling of shame returning tenfold. "Undo her bonds," is all he manages to say, to no one in particular.






https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day

Eldeth stumbles as she's shoved into the cell. She's momentarily grateful when the hood is removed, only to find a derro face staring at her once her eyes adjusted. She takes stock of the prisoners. "Moradin preserve me," she whispers. Derro, Drow and some form of half-drow? She backs away and places her back to a wall, eyes wide, fighting down panic. Her enemies are in here with her!

She finally sees the dwarf with the bloodied hair and tries to get his attention in dwarvish. "Clansman of whatever your Clan may be, help me! We must get out of here!"

But her pleas fall on seemingly deaf ears; the older dwarf grunts and refuses to look at her.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day, Cell

So two demon lords were preying on their minds. Unlikely to be a coincidence. Both sounded distinctly unpleasant, which made her escape - their escape? - all that much more pressing, which is why when the dwarf and derro show up Faedryl is secretly glad. More bodies. They were eight now. Better than before. "I am not entirely sure any of us can be 'predicted' right now." Faedryl responds quietly to Borthan's immediate distrust of the derro. If a malady of madness was afflicting them, then a derro was the least of their problems.
She can't help but be a little put out by the new-dwarf's attitude. Too fresh to the Underdark perhaps. She'd learn soon enough. Or die. Either way.

Faedryl moves to line up. Not feeding prisoners you're then planning to make work for you was a complete waste of time and effort. It just means they'll do a worse job and then you have to spend time on beating them or they end up in a starving spiral. She understands the idea behind the cruelty, but if they were intended to be additional labour then their efforts were misplaced. This was exactly the sort of needless stupidity she wanted to fix. Enslaving people and putting them to work made sense, but needlessly abusing the slaves for the sake of amusement was just inefficient. A healthy slave did better work than an unhealthy one. It was that simple.

[RandomWombat]

The Fifth Day, Cell

"How terribly rude," is all the derro has to say in response to his welcome as he strides past Borthan further into the cell, taking up position against the back wall. The glare of his white eyes shines in the glow of the luminescent fungus as he lowers down to a seated position.

"No Moradin here, dwarfess. Only us," the drow mocks as he leads the work group out. The door is shut behind them, and a scarred and weary looking drow limps up to the door, pushing a tray with bowls of mushroom broth and strips of jerky through a slot in the door.

A deep gnome with a large nose takes the tray and distributes the food, not looking too worried about delivering a plate to the derro lurking in the back of the cell. "Thank you kindly," the creature commends him in undercommon as smooth as his dwarvish.

At last the gnome comes around to Eldeth, taking a seat beside her. There are additional unclaimed portions of rations on the tray, for those who are not back yet. The gnome picks up a bowl of mushroom gruel and holds it out to her. "Hey there, Red. Name's Jimjar."

The Fifth Day, Work Group

Out they are led, once more down a route familiar to Faedryl - but new to the others. Through the drow guardhouse, past a waterfall and an ornate door, out into an open platform that could pass as a 'common area'. There are many doors surrounding them, as well as another walkway leading down along the cavern wall and a basket watched over by two quaggoth. The one they were all pulled up in, and probably the only way out that didn't involve a daredevil leap down.

Three quaggoth are lined up in the open area, and several tubs and basins of water have been assembled around the open area, as well as buckets, sponges, and washcloths. One of them has a stack of dirty stoneware dishes and metal cutlery piled up next to it. The prisoners recognize it as their own used dishes from the past several days.

"Today, you are going to be doing two jobs," their handler instructs. "You will be cleaning up after yourselves, and you will be giving some of the quaggoth of the outpost a bath."

Each task is Perception based. A character can contribute to only one task at normal effort.

By exerting themselves, a character can either get Advantage on one task, or divide themselves between two tasks.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day, Work Shift

Faedryl twiddled her fingers a bit, waking them up from relative inactivity. Back home she cast spells daily, hourly sometimes, to practice and excel, but she'd been unable to while captive. It seemed the magic suppression existed only inside the cell, as she felt the flow of arcane up and down her body, washing over her as she formed the spells in her mind. Thankfully she had some that required no focus, just Faedryl. Just as she's about to begin it occurs to her to communicate anything at all to her fellow prisoners. "I have some magic that will help, though only with the dishes. Regrettably its applicability does not extend to living beings. Once I've done what I can with these however I will help with the quaggoths." It's exceptionally polite, almost too much so. She's putting on airs a little, trying to acquire their cooperation. Her statement said, without question or invitation for further comment, Faedryl kneels down beside the wash basin and begins the process of cleaning it as best she can.

Her spell intonations are melodic, almost musical in nature, flowing from syllable to syllable to a steady, if occasionally interrupted, beat. A trick she'd learned as a child to help her memorise the incantations. Connecting words to music seemed to lodge it deeper into the mind, and so all of her spellcasting from that day forward had an element of musicality to her - much to the annoyance of her family at times. The song helps her get a rhythm going with the cleaning to, letting her progress with what she thinks is a good speed. Not that she's had much experience cleaning dishes. That was slave work.

Once she's done what she can with the dishes, she moves for the much more physical labour of bathing the quaggoths. Unpleasant though it is. She'd make sure to either enslave or kill the quaggoths later. A mild retribution for being forced to lay her hands on them like this.


Using Prestidigitiatiatiton to assist with cleaning dishes:
[roll0] Advantage: [roll1]

She'll exert to assist with the quaggoths too:
[roll2]

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 1 level of exhaustion
Concentrating on:

Borthan looks from the dishes to the water to the quaggoths. Then to the female drow when she volunteers a magic solution. Magic. That would be useful. He leans down and grabs a sponge, dipping it into the bucket and approaching the nearest quaggoth. "Sounds good. You want to do the dishes, I'll give the kids a bath." He plants his feet, looks the quaggoth in the eye, says "Alright, biggun. Let's wash some big furry monsters." then begins scrubbing him without further words with a firm, dutiful hand. He knows no one is going to enjoy their work today, but if it wasn't done he wouldn't see food tomorrow, so he would tackle the more degrading of the two tasks with real effort. He didn't like the way Dworic had carried the day at mining, and in some ways it was a feeling of competition that led Bort to put his back into it and focus on his task. That, and think of the food that would be waiting for them when they returned. If it would actually be there.





Bort is pushing himself on washing the quaggoths. [roll0] and [roll1] for advantage.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day - Work Group

Dworic nods with some appreciation at the drow's efficient use of magic. He then walks over to the quaggoths, grabbing a bucket and a sponge. He first dabs at his own torn scalp to clean away the blood and prevent any infections. Once satisfied, he starts scrubbing the quaggoths quite hard. Any grumbles are met with a hard stare and a snarl of his own.

• Quaggoth Washing: [roll0]






https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day - Cell

Eldeth watches with sad disbelief as the other dwarf leaves silently. She looks around and finds a spot to sit away from the more distasteful occupants. When the deep gnome draws near she stiffens a bit but feels that the svirfneblin are likely the least bad of the bunch. "Eldeth," she says in undercommon, taking the offered food. "Thank you."

[RandomWombat]

The Fifth Day, Cell

"I'd ask what ya did to get in, but I'm pretty sure they're just scooping people out of the tunnels right now," Jimjar says, nudging Eldeth with his elbow. He nurses the bowl of broth in his own hands and nods towards two more deep gnomes, who look very similar to one another. "These are Topsy and Turvy. Aaand, what should we call you over there?" he calls to the derro at the back.

The mustachio'd madman is drinking from the mushroom soup with his eyes closed. Slowly he lowers the bowl to rest in front of his crossed legs. Slowly, again, he brushes the residue out of his meticulously groomed facial hair before he answers. At last he says, "You may call me Buppido."

The Fifth Day, Work Group

With a few waves of her hands, Faedryl draws the weave in a miniature symphony. The threads dance around the dishes, sloughing off the sticky or greasy residue with grace and ease. It doesn't take Faedryl long to complete the task, and she turns to apply herself to the quaggoth without letting herself rest.

All three of them begin applying sponge and cloth to the matted, unkempt fur of the creatures. The efforts are met with snarls and twitches as clumps of matted fur are pulled apart, but the drow watching the process click their tongues and the quaggoth remain obediently still, in spite of the glare shooting out of the corners of their eyes. They especially seem to rankle at the proximity of a female drow, and Faedryl finds they shy away often, inhibiting her work.

Drow pass by through one door or another, smugly stopping to observe before going on their way.

The door to the east of the dish-washing station leads into a kitchen or mess area. The flicker of firelight can be seen, and the smell of food wafts out, torturing the prisoners' empty stomachs.

A few beds can briefly be seen through the opening and closing doors to south, suggesting a barracks or bunkroom.

The two doors leading into stalactites are the least used, and thus far only by drow officers, but a glimpse of a quaggoth with a comically undersized broom sweeping the floor under a wooden table can be caught through one.

The other quaggoth watching over the elevator basket let out breathy, growling chuckles as they watch the scene. In the end, the washed quaggoth look at least two shades of stone-grey lighter with all the dust and debris scraped out of their coats. When the work period is over, the two drow observing walk around, performing their inspection. One runs a hand along the washed dishes, testing for specks or traces that remain. The other circles each quaggoth in turn.

"Sufficient," the drow officer states. "But as a penalty for unauthorized use of magic," he continues, mouth twisting into a smirk, "Tomorrow's rations will be cut by precisely one person." The pair of smug drow begin leading the group back to the cell.

The public display right where the other quaggoth can see appears to be embarrassing. This ironically might be a punishment for the washees as much as the washers, though what their offense is would be anyone's guess.

Faedryl treats these DCs as 5 lower.

Quaggoth are a race of bestial humanoids kept by the drow as slaves and guard.

In order to be trained and 'domesticated' a quaggoth needs to be raised by the drow almost from birth for the sole purpose of enslavement. Any life beyond this existence is unknown to those under the boot of the drow.

The slave quaggoth speak a pidgin form of undercommon, as they are never properly taught to speak, only to listen.

'Wild' quaggoth exist in the underdark, and are often brutal and tribal by nature. The only ones that wear clothing are pack leaders, who decorate themselves with marks of office in the form of accessories that are often plundered from victims. Unable to settle down without drow or duergar exterminators arriving soon after, they take up a nomatic lifestyle.

There are two theories about the origins of the quaggoth. One is that they were bred specifically for the purpose of being drow slaves; while accurate to how to drow treat them, other evidence suggests this is just drow propaganda.

The other is that they once had a kingdom or civilization, but were conquered by the drow and duergar.

The quaggoth kingdom was called Ursadunthar. It was built around conquest and ritual sacrifice, and was believed to have paid homage to Malar, the dark god of beasts and the hunt. Ursadunthar was sacked by the duergar of Gracklstugh, toppling their seat of power. This is believed to be when they scattered into nomadic bands to survive, and were subsequently enslaved by the drow.

The drow propaganda insisting that the drow created the quaggoth accounts for the proven existence of the Ursadunthar ruins by claiming that it was a rebel kingdom founded by escaped slaves and obviously collapsed because of their inherently inferior nature.

In addition to the dishes from the prisoners, there are some extra dishes and cutlery that were probably used by the drow.

A DC 16 Sleight of Hand could snag a bit of cutlery from the pile without notice.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day, Work Shift

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response, emotional or otherwise. That's what they wanted. What she would have wanted, were she in their position. To see the anger or upset, to be back talked or to hear objections. She would give him none of that. The minor indignities and offenses she suffered her now, the rumbling of her stomach, were temporary. Ripples on the river of her life that would be washed away by time's inevitable passage. But she'd dam their rivers once they made their escape. Quick or slow, brutal or efficient, they'd die, and she would live.

But if she had time she'd like to get a little torture in first. Fair was fair, after all. Regardless of how holy or high her fellow prisoners held themselves (information that still had yet to be determined) Faedryl doubts they'd have too many complaints about their captors being given a taste of their own medicine.

She says nothing and makes no comment as they are lead back to the cell.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Fifth Day, Work Shift

Borthan seethes at the vindictive attitude of the drow officer. It just made it all the more obvious that the purpose of these tasks was not to get them done, but to embarrass, degrade, and harass the prisoners. He briefly considers drawing his knife and attempting to slit the smug bastard's throat, but he stays his hand. Not the time nor the place for that yet. But it would come, and he'd be happy when it did. He instead does his best to observe his surroundings as they line up to return to the cell. There better be some food left when they return...

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day - Work Group

The dwarf shakes his head slowly at the drow's idiocy but says nothing. The gouges on his scalp sting painfully from the sweat he worked up and it's enough to distract the dwarf from his surroundings.






https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Fifth Day - Cell

Eldeth shifts uneasily when Jimjar nudges her but makes no further move. She waves lightly to the other deep gnomes and manages a stiff nod to the derro. "Overrun patrol. You?" She drops her voice as low as she can while still allowing for the others to hear her. "Do we have any knowledge of the lay of land here? Shift changes?"

[RandomWombat]

The Fifth Day, Cell

"Who, me?" Jimjar asks coyly, looking behind himself at the wall. "Guess so! Well you see, there was this and that, and you know how drow are. They're kind of allergic to fun." He waves his hand back and forth in the air noncommittally.

"The outpost's quaggoth den is almost right next to our cell," one of the other deep gnomes speaks up, the one Jimjar claimed was called Topsy. She leans forward to look at Eldeth past the other two.

"Took some of us to a shrine of Lolth for cleaning yesterday. I think there's something important in the room underneath," Jimjar adds.


After a while the others return, the two men with wrinkly pruned fingertips. The food tray sits in front of Jimjar, who offers them a friendly wave upon their entry. "Come on down, made sure to save some for you fellas and fellette."

The Sixth Day

The overhang of rock above, and the wall beneath it, are decorated by swimming aurora patterns. Refracted light from luminescent fungi just beneath the surface of the water that laps at Faedryl's feet and lower legs. She's lying in the sand on the edge of a vast cavern. It's a beach, a shoreline, stretching to either side before an abyss of dark water.

The sound of singing reaches her hears, in soft burbling voices. She recognizes the verses as Deep Speech, in the dialect of the kuo-toa. Following the sounds of her voices, she finds a crowd of them in the shallow water prostrating themselves and bobbing up and down in and out, hands and webbed fingers outstretched.

"Deep below the mucky-muck, dark-darkest water,
There strides Leemooggoogoon, mighty glory Deep Father!
Sacrifices go, sink beneath the mucky-muck!"

Two kuo-toa with pincered staves lead captured drow down into the dark waters, forcing them under and holding them until they drown.

"Deep Father, Deep Father!
Brings much favor, glory, power!
Rise us far above, crawl no more in the mucky-muck, now!"

A deep rumbling howl echoes through the labyrinthine pillars and tunnels of the Darklake, and the kuo-toa go quiet. Faedryl can see the silhouette of a massive shape in the distance as the drowning drow twitch their final movements and go still. Even looking in the direction of the shape makes Faedryl's vision swim, like the fungal aurora on the wall. Two great glowing lights can be seen, and the glow of faerzress begins to settle across the beach, its touch making Faedryl's hairs bristle and frizzle.

The kuo-toa cheer, bowing down or hopping around as they frantically chant.

"Leemooggoogoon! Leemooggoogoon!"

"Deep Father, Deep Father!"

Faedryl feels herself losing balance as the lights draw nearer. Her vision blurs and she finds herself falling backwards into the sand. Sand that fractures and falls apart, sending her plummeting down into darkness as the fragments sparkle above her like broken glass.

Faedryl must make a DC 14 Sanity save. She may take Disadvantage on the save to gain Advantage on her Religion check to interpret the dream.

When he wakes up, Dworic's muscles feel stiff and tired. His head itches, and when scratched yields pieces of sickly, bloody looking skin that flake off under his nails. The scratch wounds from the other day don't seem to be healing right.

Dworic recovers 1 Exhaustion as normal, but then suffers 1 Exhaustion again from the onset of an illness.
He has recovered no hit points from his long rest.

Faedryl lie asleep that morning, not waking up. It creaks open inwards, closing in on her corner spot and shutting her in unintentionally - not that her wardens would likely care.

A metal handheld cage covered in airholes is chucked inside, bouncing and clattering in until it skids to a stop at Borthan's feet. Inside of the cage is a light grey mushroom with tiny stubby legs. Not far behind are a male drow and a kuo-toa, both pushed inside with bags over their heads.

Anyone Faedryl tells about the dream can also make the check.
Underdark residents treat the DC as 5 lower. I think that's everyone right now.

The vast flooded caverns are known as the Darklake.

The Darklake acts as a central feature for much of the Northdark. In spite of its name, it is not all one giant cavernous lake, consisting of both large chambers and labyrinthine aquatic tunnels. It rests between the two cities of Menzoberranzan and Blingdenstone, and Gracklstugh. As such, it has great value to both trade and war.

The kuo-toa village of Sloobudop rests on the southeast edge of the Darklake. For travelers unable to access the darkport of Gracklstugh, kuo-toa ferries are the most reliable way to traverse the Darklake, and thus are vital to travel. Even Gracklstugh sometimes purchases kuo-toa slaves from Sloobudop to act as navigators for their vessels.

This expertise has kept the kuo-toa largely protected from incursions on their otherwise poorly defended settlement.

The kuo-toa are known for their unnaturally fanatical faith, and unpredictable whims. The act of creating a divinity through faith would normally require entire nations of faithful, over years. The faith of kuo-toa, as fickle as it often can be, can do the same in a matter of weeks or even days; with as little as a single village.

This quality of the kuo-toa as 'godmakers' is one major reason they are generally left alone.

Twin vicious ape heads glowing with fiendish radiance inside of their wide maws. The mere sight of it causing confusion and warping reality around the viewer. This can only be the Prince of Demons, Demogorgon.

Knowledge of the Prince of Demons and his cults is scarce, and for good cause. Even the sight of his inscribed symbol can cause madness to take root. He is madness and destruction, the essence of the Abyss made manifest. Against this dark power, ignorance is the best protection.

The thought of kuo-toa placing their fanatic faith in a demon lord - particularly one as existentially dangerous as Demogorgon - is a terrifying prospect.

The kuo-toa are known for their unnaturally fanatical faith, and unpredictable whims. The act of creating a divinity through faith would normally require entire nations of faithful, over years. The faith of kuo-toa, as fickle as it often can be, can do the same in a matter of weeks or even days; with as little as a single village.

This quality of the kuo-toa as 'godmakers' is one major reason they are generally left alone.

The kuo-toa village of Sloobudop rests on the southeast edge of the Darklake. For travelers unable to access the darkport of Gracklstugh, kuo-toa ferries are the most reliable way to traverse the Darklake, and thus are vital to travel. Even Gracklstugh sometimes purchases kuo-toa slaves from Sloobudop to act as navigators for their vessels.

This expertise has kept the kuo-toa largely protected from incursions on their otherwise poorly defended settlement.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Madness-Induced Coma (4 days remaining)
Concentrating: On being in a coma

Fifth Day, Cell

Just one example of a different way paying off. She'd held her tongue, been as nice as possible, and in return she doesn't starve. Could most drow say they would have done the same? Unlikely. If they could she wouldn't have ended up here in the first place. She feels a warm glow of quiet smugness at this. A small victory. Her belief in the folly of the drow way hadn't wavered at all, but positive reinforcement never hurts. She sits down at the food tray, "It is appreciated," she says, the closest she can get to actually thanking someone at the moment, and even that sticks in her throat a little. Carefully sectioning off her own portion, she begins to eat, detailing what little she saw of the surrounding areas from the wash-station - the barracks or bunkhouse to the south, where clothes or other unused drow equipment probably end up, and the kitchen to the east, where knives and other improvised weapons, along with food supplies, would be found.

"Given the lack of supplies coming in, they may stretch thin should their stores be damaged or destroyed," she mutters quietly between chews, "but the short term benefit of that is likely outweighed, since once we've overthrown the prison," - to her there's no question that it will happen. It's a matter of 'when', not 'if',
"we'll need those supplies ourselves. I don't wish to break out only to starve." The talk of starving is a grim reminder that she's out a food portion tomorrow - her portion, since she lost it. She chews a little bit slower.

Sixth Day, Cell

Faedryl's mind snaps awake for a mere moment. Fish. Lake. Sand. Deep-Father. Images and words bombard her mind. She tries to sit up, but any sense of balance or stability leaves her and instead she flops sideways. With her head resting on the cold stone floor her eyes flicker for a few moments as she tries to focus on the logic behind them, on understanding, but whatever hope there was of that slips away. The loss of balance dims her mind, her thoughts scatter, and Faedryl slips out of consciousness again, unable to be woken.







https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

The cell. It was what he deserved, for his crime, for his madness. The clanging of the metal cage containing the mushroom creature echoes around the cramped area, signalling the arrival of his failure, for that was what he was. What else could he be? The stench of his own disappointment overwhelms his nostrils far more than any smell in the cramped room or its occupants. A stench that would carry all the way to his execution, no doubt. He had little desire to die, but nor could he see any reason to continue on. Traitor. Murderer. Madman. These names and more echo around his mind, around the stifling bag over his head. So many plans, so many ambitions, all brought to ruin in a moment by...what, a brief moment of insanity? It hadn't even been him...he thinks.

Now pushed inside the cell he stumbles slightly. His normally sure and steady feet slip, more from lack of willingness to balance than any physical malady, or even the bag blocking his sight. Now inside, he removes the bag, though those he sees are nothing new. He'd watched them all come to the outpost, alone or in groups. Once their jailer, now jailed with them. He slumps to sitting down, the weight of his unseen yet known crime piling once more against his shoulders. Shoulders that had once strutted proudly and now hunch with the pathetic shame of someone brought low, lost and bereft of all meaning, of drive. He says nothing. Words were meaningless, anything exchanged now would be dust and ash, lost to unknown time when they were all executed. None would remember Sarith, nor any of their conversations here. They were not drow, save the traitor who stayed sleeping and the half-blood, and therefore their deaths were much less of a fall, yet they would all die all the same. Stories cut short, as so many were. His should have been longer, so much longer, yet now he was unable to even muster a sneer at being accommodated with these - and he believed this word was generous - 'people'. It didn't matter anymore though. Nothing did.

Sarith's eyes drift to the floor, unable to bring himself to raise them. He just stares at nothing. Eyes fixed on rock yet looking far beyond it, a gaze towards nothing and seeing nothing, for that was all his future held. He no longer needed to see for he had true clarity of his destination, and that clarity ruined him.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

The Fifth Day- Cell

Hey, thanks, Jimbo. I've been thinking of this meal all day. Almost makes these dishpan hands worth it. Borthan takes his portion of food, begins to eat it, then stops and looks at Dworic. Sighing, he stands up, walks over, and puts some of his food on the dwarf's plate. No arguin', biggun. You're hurt, and we'll need your strength. Plus I don't deal with debt easily. He returns to his spot by the door, facing inward for once while he listens to the female drow's words. Once she is done speaking, he says When we get out of here food won't be a problem. As long as you don't mind moss, fungi, and little critters most wouldn't think of as food, I can supply a small army with meals out in the Dark. That is, as long as it suits us to stick together. On second thought, y'all are gonna want to keep well supplied, because I make no promises that I won't be off on my own as soon as I'm given the chance. He punctuates the sentence reversing course by popping a bit of dried meat into his mouth and chewing.

The Sixth Day

Bort steps back out of the way of the flying cage, then picks it up, his curiosity peaked. He holds it up to his face, peering into one of the airholes. Then he turns to the door. Much as I appreciate the extra rations, I think this ones a little undercooked, if you get my drift. He sets the cage down with some degree of gentleness, then turns to face the newcomers as their hoods are removed. Oh crap, another one. He thinks to himself as the drow male shows his face. He has not, as of yet, noticed anything suspicious about the female drow continuing to sleep.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Distress Spores
Concentration: -

As the small cage is pushed inside, a faint cloud of spores is emitted. Within your mind, you can suddenly hear a faint wimper, not even a full cry. Is the small cage filled with an infant? you think to yourself, as the sound is clearly linked to it. Was it sound, or something entirely else? You knew you heard it. You can hear a voice in your head, reverberating:

Where am I? Where is Sarith? Can we go home? Can you get me out of here? You are not entirely sure if the voice in your heads is a hallucinations, but it has to be linked to the small mushroom in the cage. It looks around, ending with a short. This room is very full. But we can share it. I won't take up mush-room. Hehehe.

The small fungus giggles mentally.

[RandomWombat]

The Fifth Day

"I'm not so sure how wise it is to 'stick together' either..." Topsy adds, when Borthan suggests he'd sooner leave them and go his own way. "We don't exactly know each other. We're not friends. Just people stuck in the same bad situation."

"You know, the Underdark is a dangerous place to be wandering around alone, would it be so bad to have ol' Jimbo keep you company?" Jimjar counters, shooting Topsy a playful wink in his casual nonchalance.

"Tch," she lets out a small puff of air through her teeth and rolls her eyes at him. "I think we'll be fine."

"Now," to the surprise of Topsy, Turvy speaks up from beside her unprompted. "I don't know why, but many of us are receiving these... 'visions'. That doesn't happen without a reason and, I mean, shouldn't we work together to figure out why?" his confidence drains out from his voice like a leaking balloon as he continues with a bunch of sets of eyes on him.

The Sixth Day

The cell doors are shut and locked, and most of the drow leave this time without any taunts or work orders. Perhaps for later, today. Duskryn comes up to the door and slots the tray of food through. It contains only a roll of bread for each of them (except one missing for Faedryl), a single bowl of mushroom broth, and two filled waterskins.

Removing the bag from his head, the new kuo-toa prisoner looks around with bulging fishy eyes. Taking a slow bow, he introduces himself, "Thoub we meet throubf ill circumsbance, it is a pleasure meeblbng you all." He speaks slowly and clearly, to get around his accent and ensure he is understood. "I am Shuushar."

"So good to meet you, Shuushar. Please, make yourself at home," Buppido stands up from his spot at the other corner of the room and strides past, nudging the two new prisoners out of the way as he collects his bread roll. He stops to take a drink from one of the skins and then calmly returns to his place without further disturbing anyone. The deep gnomes maintain some distance as he goes.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Sixth day - Madness-Induced Coma (4 days remaining)
Concentrating: On being in a coma

Fifth Day, Cell

"The dreams...nightmares...visions, whatever their source, may simply be a local affliction that disappears once we leave. Since the outpost doesn't seem affected, it might be extremely localised." Faedryl states with what she would call moderate confidence. "There's no need for discussion or consensus about future plans now. There are more pressing matters that we face - namely our escape in the first place." The moment the last word leaves her mouth she notices the unintentional rhyme, but does not comment or acknowledge it. "For now, at least, I'd hope we can agree to at least try not to burn down the kitchens if we can help it."






https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

Sarith's eyes flicker slightly when he 'hears' his name 'spoken' by the spore creature. He was nothing, but the myconid was less than nothing, as all non-drow were. Yet it knew him. His name, at least. Without him knowing it. Perhaps this creature was the cause of his madness, and if so he would kill it quickly, to take some measure of revenge before his own life was ended. With the most minor of reinvigorations he takes his portion of food before speaking aloud, disregarding the telepathy. Anyone looking at him will clearly see him addressing the box and no one else, his eyes focused with new, albeit minor, intensity. "How do you know my name? Did you do this to me?" His voice isn't quite yet at fully accusatory, but there's a definite edge of suspicion and distrust to it.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Rapport Spores
Concentration: -

You took me, Sarith. the small fungus states. Their attention turning to Borthan, they adress Borthan. We....I am Stool. Can you get me out of here? I could start eating the box, but it is not rotten enough yet. If you cannot help, please put me in the dampest corner you can find. Others have tried eating us but they got very sick.

Meanwhile the small fungus starts pushing its tiny body against the reinforced box.

[RandomWombat]

The Sixth Day

Jimjar goes over to the myconid's cage and looks it over. "Don't worry, little buddy. It doesn't look like they locked it." He grabs onto a clasp on the metal cage and undoes it with a few movements, popping the cage door open. The walking mushroom is now clearly visible.

Myconids are intelligent fungi. They grow into a vaguely humanoid shape over time.

The myconids are typically peaceful and prefer to keep to themselves in their fungal groves. They have affinities for druid cultures, as they live very closely with their own nature. They are unable to speak, but can understand speech. Myconids can release spores that enable telepathic communication between all those affected, including the mental sharing of images. They use this to communicate with outsiders.

To a myconid, community is more important than anything. Each individual exists for the whole, rather than possessing a sense of self-interest as most sapient species do.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

So the myconid wasn't the cause, it was an effect of his madness. He'd taken it? Why? There might be no reason at all, just as he'd had no reason to kill his victim. "I see," is all he can say in response, sitting back down. He makes no apology, nor does he feel any regret towards the creature. Drow do not apologise, and he had not fallen so far as to change that just yet. If whatever had possessed him had driven him to take this myconid, perhaps it was a threat. If it was a literal possession, Sarith wants to take away the tools of whatever it was that has ruined him so. It wouldn't be hard. The creature was small, easily smashed or cut.

No, that would be too simple. If the creature was his link to the madness then it needed to stay alive until he could follow that link. That is, if they weren't all executed first, which seemed more likely even with the cave-in slowing things down. He slumps a little, the brief moment of planning giving way to nothing again as he realises that any such thoughts are pointless and lead nowhere. He was a dead man walking. Time wouldn't change that. Nothing would or could.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Rapport Spores
Concentration: -

You can hear a mental giggling as the fungus measures the now crowded cell. Oh cozy. So much food, and friends too! a giggling almost childish voice appears in your heads. He jumps around, and towards Borthan, ending his frolick in front of him. I am Stool, are you my friend? Your nose is enveloped by the almost sweet scent of death. It is probably meant as a compliment or invitation.

After a few minutes, just before the spores vanish, an innocent question wafts through your mind. Why are you all so silent and sad?

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

The Fifth Day- Cell

Borthan looks between Faedryl and Turvy, then nods. If the dream bull puckey continues once we get out of here, I'll stick around till we make it go away. He nods again in finality.

The Sixth Day- Cell

Bort watches the small mushroom bounce around with one eyebrow peaked, stifling a laugh. Damn, to think that anything could make him want to laugh in this crappy situation. I'm Borthan Zuek, Stool. That name is so ridiculous I might not even need to make a nickname for you. We're all friends here, at least as long as we're locked in this pit. That's why we're sad and quiet- we don't like being imprisoned. But there's good news- we're all getting out of here. It's just a matter of time, planning, and frenzied effort at the right moment. Bort speaks this aloud even as he thinks it, looking around the room for signs of confirmation, particularly from the new male drow the mushfolk had named Sarith and the derro.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day - Cell

Dworic awakens from an uneasy sleep and feels the stiffness in his joints and muscles. When he sits up, his head swims slightly and he lets out a low groan. Scratching his head, he feels the skin flake away and notices that the scratches aren't healing well. He sighs heavily. Just let me die, Haela, he thinks to himself. His moroseness is lessened with the arrival of the new prisoners. He shivers uncomfortably as the tiny myconid spreads its spore, vivid memories of his nightmare come flooding back. He stands to get food when it's delivered. Taking a roll, he breaks off a piece and drops it unceremoniously on Faedryl's lap while walking back to his spot. He nods briefly at the new arrivals and sits once more in sullen, painful silence.






https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day - Cell

Eldeth begins to allow herself to hope as the others speak of what they know. Maybe there's a chance they can make it out! She sleeps uneasily, her back against the wall, waking up with every new sound. A scout learns to sleep lightly, and one who doesn't trust her company doubly so.

With the new arrivals, Eldeth's mood sours a bit. Another ebon skin. She can't trust the drow; an escape plan would obviously have to account for splitting the group. Moradin might even see that the drow focus on tracking down their own traitorous kin, leaving her more time to make her way back home. She eyes Dworic carefully, trying to gauge him. It's obvious he's not simply letting himself die and the bruises tell of how hard he may have fought before capture, but he does seem so very defeated. She stands to grab a bread roll when Dworic does so but, finding herself before him, doesn't know what to say. He just walks away. Her jaw drops when she sees him give a piece of bread to the she-drow - to a hated enemy! - but she just snaps her mouth shut and sits back down.

When unsure, observe. So the scout sits back and watches her cellmates.

[RandomWombat]

The Sixth Day

The derro looks up at Borthan when the half-drow's eyes fall upon him. He wears an easy smile on his face as he affirms, "My containment here is only a temporary setback. My... our captors will be made to understand their folly."

"I am a healer. I will gladly blubb any wounds and weariness you may have," the fishman reaches out and plucks one of the rolls from the tray of food, looking around as if for permission. "I noblis we have nobl enoub bood blor eberyone." Indeed, the drow have given one too few pieces of bread. Even considering Faedryl's punishment, of which Borthan and Dworic are aware, they don't seem to have included any rations for the myconid. Then again it seemed perfectly happy to 'eat' in a damp wet corner.

With everyone's rolls claimed, only one remains on the tray, with none of the deep gnomes having one yet. "Hey twinsies, how about we make a little wager on who'll be picked for next work shift?" Jimjar offers, looking to the other two deep gnomes. "I bet the last roll that they'll try to pick the sleeping girl again. If I'm wrong, the last roll is yours'. You don't mind splitting right?"

Topsy crosses her arms and looks at him with a dour curl to her lip. "Fine. But if she doesn't wake up soon, we're taking her share."

Even as the cell shuffles around and the new arrivals come inside, even as food is dropped in her lap, Faedryl remains lying motionless on the ground - apart from the occasional grimace or twitch. Her long sleep looks troubled and fraught with nightmares.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

Escape. The concept sits in his mind. Absurd. Foolishness. They were outnumbered at least 2-1 by trained soldiers and quaggoth. Without weapons, armour or supplies. Stuck in a cell, manacled and without magic. Their deaths were certain yet they would choose to meet it early? To what end? Maybe it would at least offer some meager entertainment to watch the scene play out though, before his abrupt end. "If you want information I have some that will be relevant. I served here, before my imprisonment." He drones in a monotone voice, barely looking up. What they did with the information was on their heads, it mattered little to him. "Numbers, names, a rough layout." It wouldn't change their fates, any of them, and he'd already fallen so far what was one more. Loyalty to the drow wouldn't change anything anymore. Not that drow understood 'loyalty' at the best of times.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Not being particularly interested in eating just yet, Stool shimmies over to the sleeping female drow. Listening to her breathing makes him hesitant, but he tries to "taste" the drow regardless. If she was dead, her essence would live on in the myconid, her biomass would strengthen the small one. If she was alive, she might need help.

Stool decides after tasting she was "alive" to summon his armlike extrusions and check the drow thoroughly, everywhere. He bounces up and down next to Shuushar after he says he was a healer, trying to pull the creature over to the drow, pointing at her like a child would point at his motionless mother.

Medicine [roll0]

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day - Cell

Eldeth's ears perk up at new information, though she is loathe to trust the fishman and the captive drow. She moves a little closer to the kuo-toa. "Shuushar," she says trying to pronounce its name properly. "If you are a healer then maybe you can check the other dwarf over there? His head seems hurt."

She then moseys back to her spot, casting curious glances toward the strange little mushroom, and then eyes the drow. "So. What do you know?"

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

He considers not answering, for a moment. Dangle the carrot out of reach for his amusement and their frustration. He doesn't though, it would be temporary at best, and the false hope that his information gave them would make it all the sweeter. "There are a total of 19 drow serving here. It is run by a priestess, Ilvara, who is assisted by a younger priestess, Asha. The rest are male. Ilvara's mate was recently swapped out for a younger, prettier model after the old one got his face scarred, and this has caused tension between them."

"On top of the drow there's maybe a dozen quaggoth and several giant spiders, meaning a total force of maybe 35 or 40 bodies in all. A grey ooze lives in the pool of water beneath the outpost, feeding off the waste dumped there."

On top of the information he gives, Sarith also offers a description of the outpost itself, its layout, entry and exit points, important locations, essentially all the information he has to give. He holds nothing back. All the better to puff up their hopes and see them dashed spectacularly when the inevitability of their death sets in. He ends his information dump with "I will presume you've noticed that spells cannot be cast inside the cell, however any spell cast outside the confines stays active should you then enter. A minor thing, perhaps, but it has applications."

[RandomWombat]

The Sixth Day

Attention drawn by Stool's frantic tugging at his prison rags, Shuushar walks over and kneels down to examine the drow. He carefully reaches down to check her pulse. "She is alive, blibble one. Her pulbse is blublong. Can you, wib gentle filamembs, open ub her eye?"

With Stool's assistance, Shuushar examines Faedryl's eye, which is flickering rapidly. "She is in a deep sleep. Blub her grimace, and her shaking. Is nobb an easy sleep. She is blrbbed in a realm of niblmares." With one webbed hand he jostles her, to no response. "Sleep wiboublb end. I may be able, wib a spell, bloo rouse her." Though then comes the ill news from Sarith, of their magical suppression.

"Another one of us suffering from nightmares," Turvy points out. Though looking over at him shows he is staring at the floor, talking to no one but himself. "And each manifesting a different side effect."

When the redheaded dwarf requests his help, Shuushar stands up from next to Faedryl and nods. He gets up from examining Faedryl and motions his little fungal 'assistant' to come with him. This time it is Stool to whom the cause is obvious.

Dworic is suffering from a relatively common infection, which has taken root in a set of bloody scratches along his skull. The city dwellers call it Sewer Plague - that's actually a catchall term for any number of infections, but the symptoms are often the same.

Cramps and exhaustion will continue to build unless treated, or fought off by the victim's body. The infection can spread to new wounds, making it difficult to heal. However, taking time to clean the wounds can slow or help stop the infection.

Each day, Dworic has a DC 11 Con save. On a pass he loses one level of Exhaustion, and 'defeats' the infection if Exhaustion drops to 0. On a failure, he gains one level of Exhaustion.

The infection prevents healing from long rests, but not spending hit die to heal during short rests.
Another application of the Medicine skill can help clean the wounds, giving Advantage (or negating the Disadvantage from the Exhaustion) on the daily Con save.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan takes this all in for a moment- the female drow's coma, the male drow's report, Dworic's illness. He sighs. Things were getting heavy in here. Going down to one knee, he presses his palm flat to the stone and takes a deep breath. All right, Zuek. Just like Ee'char taught you. Speak to the stone and it will speak back to you. He kneeled there for a full minute, making only a dull humming noise as he attempted to commune and verify the male drow's information.





Using Primeval Awareness to check for humanoids in a 5 mile radius.

[RandomWombat]

His humming comes back to him, reverberating through the stone. He can sense about 32 humanoids throughout the outpost, besides he and the fellow prisoners. Including the 19 subordinates, the commanding priestess, and the quaggoth, that should match the male drow's story.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Stool extrudes his spores once more and telepathically announces his medical procedure. Your wounds are infected, beard friend. We can use water to clean but Stool has a better idea. Myconids can eat rotting things. His stubby 'hands' scrape at the surface of the dwarf's skull, removing the layer of encrusted blood. He then licks his "fingers" and repeats the process.






https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

The maid is hit with two darts and immediately drops like a sack. Her vision blurs and the last thing she sees are two drow bending over her, smiling a vile grin. Suddenly she can see Doctor Donk in her mind's eye. The mule starts hehawing, the sound slowly morphing into a laughter. She turns, and the now-turned-spider mule chitters at her. It approaches her, and injects two fangs into her throat, pumping venom inside. It doesn't hurt but it tickles. All there is left is laughter.

Silly Puck, silly donkey. Everything is so silly.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan's humming stops abruptly and he stands up, stretching and cracking his neck. "The former jailer's story rings true. Least the parts about the people. Thirty two people in the outpost, excluding us. We're going to need more help. And more weapons. One stone blade and a couple pieces of rope ain't gonna cut it." That being said, he reached into his pants and yanked out a five foot length of rope from along his thigh. This might work with the element of surprise, but it won't go far against those numbers. Then, just as casually, he threads the rope back down his pant leg to hide it again. Sorry to the ladies of the cave for that bit of tantalizing entertainment. He winks at the unconscious female drow.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Sixth day - Madness-Induced Coma (4 days remaining)
Concentrating: On being in a coma

Sixth Day, Cell

Faedryl remains utterly in her coma, completely unaware of any discussions, prods, pokes or winks that are sent her way.






https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

"You can find plenty of weapons and armour in the armoury." Sarith drones, as if speaking to a child. Truly how far had he fallen to have to explain such basic concepts? Not as far as they might fall when they got themselves killed. Would they be tortured first, or merely fed to the ooze? "Concoct an escape that doesn't set the whole outpost on alert and you should have free access to them, for a short while at least. The thin bridges and paths make a numerical advantage less impactful, since they cannot bring all the forces to bear at once. 32 quickly turns into 4 when they can't get past each other." He might be pushing the encouragement a bit far, they might catch onto his sinister plot to watch them all get themselves killed for his amusement if he said much more. "Or continue working diligently, like the good little prisoners that you are."

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day - Cell

The dwarf barely reacts as the little myconid exudes a cloud of spores, though he still winces as memories of the nightmare surface unbidden.

Eh, what’s one more indignity, he thinks to himself, too exhausted to realize that the friendly mushroom is linked to his thoughts.






https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day - Cell

Eldeth listens closely as the drow recounts his knowledge of the outpost, closing her eyes and making a mental map of the description. She shakes her head disapprovingly at the half-drow’s jest but says nothing, silently agreeing with his reasoning. She then turns to Sarith, a quizzical look on her face. “And yet four quickly becomes an overwhelming force unless the drow no longer have access to poisoned crossbow bolts, spiders who can drop from the ceiling or spells. We cannot survive a confrontation, a silent escape is the only way.”

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

Sarith snorts derisively. "Unless you wish to dive into the hungry ooze below yourself - assuming you survive the fall at all - fighting's your only option." 'Your'. Not 'Our'. He had no options, except death. "The only way you're getting out of the outpost is through the guards, who can see in the dark and are, well, guarding. Silence might carry you to the armoury, but beyond that?" He waves a dismissive hand. "If you can fight, something I doubt, then you had best prepare to do so."

[RandomWombat]

The discussion and planning are cut short by more footsteps outside the door. One of the drow officers stands outside, looking in at them as though perusing the market. "Female traitor, female dwarf, fish. Get over here." With each 'name' he raps on the cell bars with his knuckles. Looking down to the side, he spies Faedryl still lying unconscious. "Come on. Get her up, quickly. Workers don't get to sleep until the work is done."

Jimjar quietly grins and nudges Topsy, who rolls her eyes and waves her hand dismissively. "Fine, go on."

Picking up the last roll, Jimjar tears it into three pieces and offers two of them out in a palm towards the twins. Topsy looks at them, then up at him warily. But hunger wins over suspicion and she snatches the two morsels, sharing one with Turvy.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Stool's childish voice reverberates inside your heads. If you want out of here, remember magic is possible outside. I cannot hear, not smell the call of Psilofyr inside here. But it is outside. Battle is bad, sneakiness is better. But I do have magic to punish evil darkelves.

Stool tries to growl, but instead a harmonic hum fills your minds. He postures 'menacingly' in the middle of the cell.






https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

-

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

Sarith eyes the female. Even a traitor wouldn't sleep or trance in such a position. They were still drow, and had some dignity. "A bit too deep in drink last night eh Kronryn?" He addresses the officer scathingly, "Open those ale-addled eyes a touch wider, you might see she's not sleeping, she's unconscious. Probably sick. Maybe dying." Without moving from his seat he lets out a mirthless chuckle. "I wonder though, if the Melad died on your watch, do you think Ilvara would put you in here first with the rest of us, or just feed you directly to the spiders?" The thought amuses him greatly. They'd never gotten on when working together, and even less so now, so any opportunity to needle him would be taken.






If this needs a roll:
[roll0] Intimidate? Or just a +2 if it's more persuasion. It feels more intimidation since it's a subtle threat though, albeit not one carried out by Sarith.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion Level One
Concentrating on:

Borthan eyed the unconcious form of the female drow. Melad. That could be vital information. He briefly considered offering himself up for her work shift. Briefly but thoroughly. But just because they didn't call him today doesn't mean they wouldn't call him tomorrow, and he was already beat. Instead he observed the reaction of the guard to Sarith's question, trying to read meaning from his answers.





A history check on Melad with little in the way of hope. Borthan only just started working with the Drow recently. The Dwarves knew of him and he didn't try to impersonate gnomes for drop offs. [roll0] or Discord roll- 4, whichever is worse. Insight check on the guard Sarith is intimidating. [roll1] or [roll2], whichever is worse.

[RandomWombat]

The drow officer - Kronryn - pales slightly at Sarith's suggestion. It's hard to see the difference, at least for non-drow. But Borthan knows how to tell when these dark elves are sweating under the pressure. "When did she drop?" he asks, looking behind him. "Guards! Bring out the Melad traitor."

Two subordinates open the door and pull the drow woman outside to examine her. Their officer closes and locks the door after they're out.

Standing from where he'd been meditating atop the hard stone, Shuushar approaches the door. "I may be ablublu help. I have magic that could cure her."

"Ilvara," Jimjar enunciates the name with a grin, peering up at the bars of the window. "Doesn't even need to know about the carelessness that led to her moneymaker getting sick, if you let us cure her ourselves."

The drow glares daggers into the stone cage, at Sarith and at Jimjar. "Speak the priestess' name without proper reverence again and your tongues will be forfeit, worms," he snarls.

The drow is definitely shaking in his boots at the idea of garnering this Ilvara's ire. It shouldn't take much more to push him over into complying.

Full-blooded drow (Sarith) treat DCs apart from the last as 5 lower. Faedryl knows all information below DC 20 automatically.

There was a traitor house that sided against the other drow during the war with the dwarves and deep gnomes - it might have been Melad?

Melad is a drow noble house from Menzoberranzan. Like many others, they are in the business of slavery, and indulge in any number of nefarious and subtle side ventures.

Led by Matriarch Neeralee Melad, the House is involved in all the typical drow affairs - slaves, subterfuge and spiders. They are best known for their long tradition of priestesses, and their skilled poisonmakers. Yet Lolth's favor has rarely fallen on the House, and they fell from prominence on the Council. Among the Matriarch's greatest personal accomplishments are forming a pact with the black dragon Nago, and enslaving him to serve as her personal bodyguard.

Melad's House symbol resembles a downward-facing spiked key.

An order of 'holy' assassins dedicated to Lolth, known as the Black Silk, owe their founding to the previous House Melad Matriarch, Naliae. They are best known for their iconoclastic efforts against other deities and their followers, and they have clashed with the Zhentarim in the latter's attempts to make inroads into the Underdark.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day - Cell

Dworic looks at the drow's unconscious form and a bare wisp of sadness crosses his eyes. She had helped during the cleaning after all.

Dispelling such thoughts, he simply watches on.






https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day - Cell

The name Melad sparks memories of scout reports and Hold Enemies and Eldeth grins as the drow squirm. The guards could be making a powerful enemy. Of at least be led to believe so. "How fascinating it would be if the first prisoner to die under your watch were a drow." Her voice drips with sarcasm. "Maybe Matron Mother Neeralee," she emphasizes the honorific, "will seek retribution."

[RandomWombat]

The Sixth Day

"Fine," the drow known as Kronryn snaps, opening up the door again and ushering Shuushar out. "Fix her, now."

Hunched forward, the kuo-toa waddles out and kneels beside Faedryl on the hard cave floor. His fishy eyes do not close as he hovers his hands overtop of the prone drow and incants. "Come now from blu dark dream. Reblurn. Be anchored." He repeats, a soft glow falling over her unconscious form.

Faedryl can feel herself being pulled, as if by a broad hand, out of the infinite dark in which she has been floating, deprived of all sensation. Up above a pinprick of light breaks through the blackness. And her eyes flicker open to behold the unblinking eyes of a kuo-toa hunched over her.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: No longer comatose
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

The return to the waking world is quick, perhaps faster than she would have liked, but comforts were in short supply. It's a blur when her eyes open, she needs to blink a few times for the reality to settle in. When she finally does see the looming face of Shuushar it takes a remarkable degree of self control not to immediate lash out with fist or flame. She didn't like fish at the best of times. Then a nightmare that was exceedingly fish related. Now one looming over her. She steadies her breath, turning her head left and right. She was still imprisoned - too much to hope that they'd managed an escape while she was lost in the nightmare - but there were new faces. How much time had passed? A few hours? A day? More? Faedryl reaches a hand up to her lips. Dry, but not overly so. Her stomach growled quietly, but not excessively. She knew from her escape what multi-day hunger felt like, and this wasn't it. Not yet, anyway. Hours at most then.

She shuffles away from the fish and sits up, clutching at her head. Out of the cell. Guards around her, fish over her. Either this was some new torture cooked up by the outpost or they'd needed a prisoner to pull her back to the waking world. Faedryl concludes the latter. She gives a nod of acknowledgement - of thanks - to the fish. It's the most she can muster. The actual words thank you passing her lips, to that thing, in this place, is beyond her. Maybe if she wasn't surrounded by drow. There was still a lingering cultural pride that refused to let her lower herself like that. Lower. Was it really that? Was expressing thanks really a degradation? She shakes her head again. Not really the time for such musings.

Delicately, as elegantly as she can, and slowly so as not to provoke any reprisals, she stands, cocking an eyebrow at the guards, but saying nothing. She will make them speak first. A small power play, but one to enjoy for the brief moment it lasts.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion Level One
Concentrating on:

Welcome back. You missed a good time, lazybones. Bort smiles at Faedryl in a slightly manic fashion, noting the usefulness of Shuushar. The more useful people they put in this cell, the easier it was going to be to get out of here. Just a few more, Silvanus. Just a few more, if you please. he thought.

[RandomWombat]

The Sixth Day

The drow watch carefully as Faedryl gets up, and one of them jostles the fishman with a foot, apparently not wanting to dirty his hands touching it. "Are there any further injuries on her?"

"No, I-"

Before more can he said, the drow officer cuts him off and looks inside the cell. "Then the work shift will continue as planned. She-dwarf, get over here." He opens up the door and looks to Eldeth expectantly.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day - Cell

Eldeth's lips curl in a sneer as the drow calls her over. She-dwarf. Not very creative.

She dusts herself off and, head held high, strides confidently to the door, staring the guard right in the eyes.

[RandomWombat]

The Sixth Day - Work Group

Reaching out, the drow officer grabs a hold of Eldeth's braided hair and yanks painfully downwards, forcing her face towards the stone below. "Learn not to look your masters in the eye, meat." His voice snarls.

The three of them are led out of the room - again before Faedryl can get a chance to eat anything. Hunger is gnawing at her stomach like a ravenous beast, and she feels her guts burning like fire. The smell of cooking food from the kitchen is tortuous as they are led out to the common area yet again. Long strands of spider silk are gathered and laid out.

"Today, you will be weaving strands of silk into rope," their prison guard announces, pointing down. "They will be tested for craftsmanship when you are finished. Well? Get to work."

Each character will make a Dexterity check to contribute to the crafting of the ropes. As usual, a character can exert for Advantage at the cost of Exhaustion on Day 7. Having been a scout, Eldeth may add her Proficiency. She is not unfamiliar with making rope.

Sleight of Hand may be attempted to slip some of the rope, if someone feels gutsy.

Faedryl must also make a DC 11 Constitution save to withstand hunger, or take Exhaustion from that as well, before her work rolls.

The Sixth Day - Cell

While the others are gone, smooth tones inquire from the back of the cell. "I don't suppose anyone has something sharp I could borrow?" the derro asks, opening up his eerie white eyes to peer into the rest of the cell, reflecting the light of the fungi across the walls. Where they're looking in particular is a mystery, perhaps the most unsettling aspect. He reaches up with a hand and runs two fingers along one side of a mustache. The ends have begun to split and frazzle. "I find myself in need of some... work."

The Seventh Day

It is dark. D̮͚ͬͪ͆ͭͪ̌͘arker than it sho͚̦͓̬̣̝uld be, a darkness that thwarts even Sarith's superior drow ey̥̖̍̑͌̎͒͋es. It hangs heavy, like a fo̲̓̒g, and he can feel it draped arou̧͚̦͗ͭ̍nd his shoulders. F̝̲ͩͭ̀ͥ͞e̮̲̾̃͜e̶̫̫͉̬͑͊͋͛̅͋͛l͙̣̻͎̞͗̓͌͛ its clạ̵̝͍̝̞̜̎ͦmmy fingers down the p̴̱̝̌̃̍ͣale flesh of his back. Arő̈͐und him are the bl̨̜̠͔͖͐eak, co̯͚̟̮̰͓̲lorless, tw̎̓́istiṅ̘͖̫̙g archite̛̳͒ͯcture̺̰̻̥͚̲̾̍ͫͥ͊ͅs of Menzober̂ͦͫͦranzan. Fine tapestries swim with patterns that make no sense, ĺ̢͔̦̠̆ͭͬikè̟̈ grey quickš̙̰̣̣̌and s̺̅̄̊͛ͩ̾ͫliding around beneath great twirling fingers.

There are two paths down this hallway. One a head, and one behind. Tiny flecks of light dance in the air, and he feels a buzz crawl over his flesh. The telltale hum of faerzress. He can feel himself torn.

In each direction, the only spots of color in this dismal place. Green in one, and orange in the other.

His feet refuse to move, feeling glued to the spot. But he can feel one word, pounding in his mind, pounding against his skull.

N̝̪̘̿̑ͣ͊̆͋e̷̞͈͌͌̎̒̚v̺̣̙̳͘e̖͕̞̩̮ͤ̏ͨr̭̮̠̙̺̲̩̆͋̑̒̎̚l̆ ̛͉͐̿̉̍i̠̪͍̪̤̰̰ͨ͒͌g̟͔̖͇̬͒hͤ̆ṭ͓̏̂ͣͥ.̻̿̒ͪ̅̎ͭ̇͜ͅ

And he wakes.

Footsteps outside clap against the stone, stirring some of the early risers or light sleepers from their slumber. More than usual again, including the scraping claws of a quaggoth against the stone. Looking out through the bars, they can see two shapes. One the hulking, pale blue shape of a northern orc, being led along by the quaggoth. He is grumbling and struggling against the grip, visibly drugged much as Dworic had been. As the door opens up, he is shoved in first.

Nilvae is pulled ahead roughly and dragged towards the same door. Her vision is swimming, like looking at the world through wavy, blown glass. The colors of glowing fungi inside the room dance and leave trails in the air. The drugs in her system are not as potent as those pacifying the orc, who turns and slams his fists against the door even as it is closed behind them. The large tree trunk arms slap against the metal like noodles, with no power behind them. A defeated grunt of something in orcish escapes under his breath.

The shapes of her companions had fallen off behind them, somewhere else in this place.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Work Shift

Her stomach was gnawing at her again, but their task today was at least one that didn't involve heavy labour. As she sits she takes up the spider silk and threads it around her fingers. Familiar and comforting, in a way that is both welcome and melancholic. Idle afternoons weaving with her sisters. Gone forever. Even when she succeeds - because she will succeed, there was no other option - she wouldn't get those days back. The material is deeply familiar to her though, and she finds it quite simple to return to rote memory. She pushes the distraction of her gnawing belly and its constant hunger pangs away, instead focusing on the task in front of her, letting her eyes unfocus as her hands twist and curl the silk around itself. She didn't need to look, and in fact it was easier if she didn't. Looking would make her critical, make her doubt. Times like this her brain could switch off, if only for a while. All the better to forget about her burning desire for food that smelled oh-so-good.


Even with disadvantage, she rolled a 20 (18+2), per discord.


Seventh Day, Cell

Faedryl finds herself torn by the new visitors - another half-elf, though this one without even the decency to have a drop of drow in them by her look. Probably less useful than the thinblood. And an orc who was apparently all bluster and little bite, going off his feeble smash against the door, though she wasn't exactly in top shape either. Assuming they didn't fall victim to the cell's madness, maybe they'd prove themselves more useful than her initial expectations. At the very least the orc had more spirit than the pathetic male they'd been saddled with. Of all the drow they could end up imprisoned with, it was one who had given up to despair. She darts her eyes across to Sarith, still in the throes of sleep, before back to the newcomers. She wasn't one for speaking for, or introductions, or welcoming, or niceties. She'd had people do all that for her, or never needed to at all. Something...light then. "Welcome to our home," she drawls at them, gesturing with one hand at the wonderful expanse of cave around them. "Planning on staying long?"






https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell

"Why bother? Want to look good for your execution?" Sarith retorts, full monotony in his voice. "The spiders won't eat you any faster if you've got a haircut." A fast death was all they could hope for. A swift exit from this plane, and then hopefully a better existence in the next. Maybe one where his failures would not be compounded upon. But then, likely not. As a failure he was not destined for any afterlife worth speaking of. No, he would be consumed in the pits by Lolth's servants, and then his spirit would descend to be consumed a second time, and likely not quickly. He lets out a deep sigh, realising just how pointless it all was all over again. Pointless piled upon pointless.

Seventh Day, Cell

Sarith wakes uncomfortably, unpleasantly, unhappily. But then that was his existence now. Uncomfortable, unpleasant, unhappy. Even while trying to trance he was denied proper rest, instead forced into some maddening dream. "Neverlight," he murmurs to himself, though when he says it aloud it doesn't quite have the same tone to it that it had in the nightmare. He rolls his tongue and flexes his throat, muttering the word over and over trying different intonations, mouth shapes, tongue movements, but none seem to fully grasp the way it was said. Whatever it was he is keenly aware once more that he is insufficient, now apparently unable to even properly communicate the things he had seen. All that education and he can't even put images and sounds into words. Pathetic. Truly so. He can't bare to look down at himself any longer, and finally raises his eyes, spotting two new faces, both of which the Melad was addressing. She had an angle - she was a female, of course she had an angle, though what it was he couldn't see. Surely she didn't plan to escape with this gang of misfits, rejects and deviants? To what end? She would be hunted. A phrase he found himself repeating, both to himself and to others, bubbles up once more in his mind. Why bother? What could she possibly see as worth the effort now? She had lost it all. More than he had lost, even, and yet she seemed to not at all concerned by it.

Quietly ruminating on this, he realises something: He hates her a little for that.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

The half-elf's head was spinning and slowly accustoming itself to the dark dank environment of the very crowded cell. She looked around, immediately realizing just how many creatures where in here. Most stayed silent, quite a few busy with themselves, as the drow female of all opened a conversation. She, rather than Borthan, who was caught here too, so at least he wasn't actively betraying her.

Where is my donkey? she blurts out before regaining her composure, and answering the question. It was too long since she had real human contact. Polite ones, not pragmatic ruffians like the half-drow headhunter. She puts up a smile and says: I am not sure. Do you have any plans on leaving, ilharess*? adressing Faedryl like nobility. If you pardon the insinuation but you do not look like you are used to hard labor, but even if the dwarves look more hardy than you I think we all have an interest in leaving here. If I judge the amount of people and other creatures in this cell. she nudges the small mushroom already at her feet it is looking as if the drow would orchestrate our sudden departure by in





https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Having learned to pretend to be caught in his cage whenever the guards approached, Stool openly communicated telepathically that he was open to help in any way possible.

He stands in the middle, extruding his rapport spores to be inhaled by everyone. Sorry for sporey air. We should continue this talk in mind, not mouth. Pale-face elf is right, but we have to take a chance. Our physical and mental health is getting worse, some of us will die sooner than later in here. It would make Stool sad to have to eat their bodies.

Despite a grim subject, Stool's voice reverberates happily in your head.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion Level One
Concentrating on:

The Sixth Day- Cell

Borthan looks up at the derro, flummoxed at the very idea of giving him something sharp. Maybe as a last resort when the time for the breakout came, when he had a piece of iron in each hand, but certainly not now. Thankfully, for once his wits came up with a more political answer. "Guards might notice if we all look good and well trimmed. Once we get out of here I'll personally find you somethin' you can use to barber yourself, Derro."

The Seventh Day- Cell

Bort moves out of the way of the door just in time to escape being squashed by the orc pushing his way through. When the next newcomer arrives, he groans audibly and covers his face with his hand. Damnit, Nilvae, I told you to RUN. Maybe if you didn't have a small zoo behind you you could have gotten away! He stands and moves over to her, looking into her eyes with no sense of tact. Poisoned. You better sit down. They don't normally call first dayers out for workshift, but I learned the hard way never to underestimate the mercy of the Drow. He extends a hand to the paler half-elf, offering to keep her steady. She did pay him, after all, so he felt some obligation to her comfort. Turning to the myconid, he nods in agreement and focuses on thinking his words without saying them. Getting pretty full up in here. Can't fit too many more prisoners in here without stacking them tall ways. Nows about the time I think we all sit down, come together, explain what we're capable of, and let our more discerning minds come up with an escape plan. Anyone opposed? Oh, and we should introduce. Funny as it is to call you fat-blood, something a bit more personal than Melad would be nice He looks at Faedryl for this last bit, as they have never been properly introduced.





Exhaustion is gone on the seventh day.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day - Work Group

Eldeth bites her tongue when the drow yanks her hair, her face contorting in rage. I will make you pay, ebonskin, is the only thought coursing through her brain. Before stepping out, she glances back inside and meets Dworic's even gaze. The older dwarf nods at her and the meaning is plain - we owe them a debt of pain.

She takes out her frustration and anger in her work, much like she has in the past. Twist and turn and over and turn and twist and turn and over and turn goes the mantra in her head hour in and hour out. She sees nothing else and, at the end, has a nice length of rope to show for it, as well as calloused fingers and an aching back.
Rope roll: 18 (from Discord, including exerting for Advantage.) Hopefully Fish Man can help.

Seventh Day - Cell

Eldeth wakes exhausted, but she grins and bears it as usual - lack of rest is normal for a scout. She sits beside Dworic in silence for a long moment, feeling the rock beneath her and the comfort of being near another dwarf, despite the presence of less comforting elements in the cell. When she speaks, her voice is low and conveys unusual softness for Dwarvish. "I do not know how you came to be here or what your affiliations may be. My scouting party was ambushed and I've left a family in Gauntlgrym. I must return to them. By Moradin, I will return to them. I hope we can join forces, kinsman. Little trust can be had in this group."

She looks at the older dwarf, a hopeful glint in her eyes.





https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day - Cell

Dworic wakes up for the first time feeling refreshed, despite uneasy sleep. The gouges and bruises healing nicely, his mood lightens for a moment. He rolls upright and stretches renewed muscles, loudly popping myriad joints. He barely looks up when Eldeth sits beside him and considers her words carefully for almost an eternity before replying in rumbling Dwarvish. "I don't know if we can make it out," he says dejectedly, but suddenly brightens up as if taken by inspiration. "But maybe we can get you out. Maybe we can get you back to Gauntlgrym," he says with a look of determination - the first in a very long time. And maybe I will finally find my end. Protecting another dwarf's escape might bring me redemption.

When the newcomers arrive, Dworic looks on curiously, noting the fact that Bort knows the half-elf. He takes stock of the orc as well. That one might be trouble.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --
Seventh Day, Cell

The half-bloods knew each other. Well, she shouldn't be too surprised by that. Birds of a feather. Faedryl sucks in air in displeasure as the myconid unleashes another wave of spores on them. She didn't trust anything that forced its way into her head. Grimoires, nightmares or mushrooms, they were all the same to her. She couldn't deny that it made sense to continue the conversation silently though, much as she disagreed with the manner in which it was prompted. "Faedryl Melad, Fifth Daughter and Eighth Child of Matriarch Ahlysra Melad. Once a rising star, now on my way to the capital for execution as an example. Or I would be, if we weren't all going to escape." She speaks back telepathically, her tone clearly lacking in any pride in her titles at this point, instead they're delivered with a sardonic tone of criticism. Faedryl looks around the collected prisoners. It might be enough. It might not be. But the mushroom was correct - they were only due to get weaker the longer they stayed, or risk some being thrown to the ooze to 'free up space'.

"If we're doing this, we should do it when we're at our strongest. Tomorrow, after the work shift?" It's a question, not an order. She shifts in her 'seat' on the floor. If they wanted to start this right, Duskryn's 'open door' would be needed, so she'd need to get the message to him somehow. On slightly wobbly legs she stands, looking out the door's small opening to see if she can spot the Priestess-hating 'traitor'.






https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --


Seventh Day, Cell

Sarith keeps his mouth - and mind - shut at Faedryl's suggestion of escape tomorrow. They were really still going for this, despite everything. They really believed they'd make it out of an entire drow outpost with nothing more than a few scavenged 'weapons', if they could even be called that, against an organised drow force lead by priestesses? With quaggoth support? Foolishness. He thinks, for a moment, about selling them out, telling the guards of the ill-conceived attempt and thwarting it before it starts. No, it wouldn't help. A traitor once, a traitor still. It wouldn't gain him any reprieve from his end. He should let it play out, watch them all fail, and let the encroaching storm of death wash over him. It was his only choice at this stage.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

The tiny myconid thinks the loudest, which is odd since he appears very meek and tiny in actual 'person'. Stool is blessed with endurance, and is in tune with the fungal miasma. I pull from nature, though not every aspect serves me. Give me a bit of protection, and a wooden plank and I will be a warrior and a priest.

The small mushroom meanders over to the used chamber pot everyone shares and puts it on top of its head, having no issue with its contents. It fits as if it were a helmet. It is disgusting, silly and all around a bizarre sight.






https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Voices in her head, again. But these are not laughing, and Nilvae feels the voices are connected to the presence, to the people around her. Still a bit perturbed, she enjoys the help of Borthan. Thank you, Bort. Steadying herself, she sits down cross-legged, trying to access her arcane powers. Her face distorts a bit, but the cage's magic pushes back. She shortly hears the whispers of a dozen rats but then it is silenced. This cell is imprisoning magic? she asks rhetorically.

I am of no use inside here. I could talk to the guards to maybe leave your cell, but I feel my chances of escaping alone are poor, now that they know I can use magic. If I am to serve as a personal servant to a noble drow, I feel they would mutilate my ability to incant magic. I am exhausted as well, Faedryl, though I assume this is nothing compared to your suffering. Assuming the work shifts are exhausting I would say before or during is better, unless the work camp is inescapable?

Also I am Nilvae, friend to animals, and to fey.

She concludes with a small bow, expecting the others to introduce themselves mentally as well.

[RandomWombat]

The Sixth Day, Cell

At Borthan's refusal, the derro breathes out his nose in an exaggerated sigh, but waves his hand in front of him. "Prison is no excuse to live so... uncivilized," his voice drawls. White eyes glaring out into the cell - it is impossible to tell if the glare is intentional or not - he turns his head towards Sarith at the far end.

"Such a sad sap. You would rather be caged with the spiders, I am sure... What did you do to get thrown in here with me," Buppido asks, a faint trickle of venom dribbling down into his otherwise steady and perfectly pitched voice.

The Sixth Day, Work Group

Between the practiced ease of the two ladies in ropemaking, they swiftly work through the pile of silk. Shuushar's ropemaking is slow and ponderous, as he rocks back and forth in his seated position with a calm and content look on his face. He does not seem concerned about meeting the expectations of their captors.

All the same, the task is soon finished and the drow come to inspect their work. They tie the rope around rocks and swing it in the air to test the tensile strength and quality. "And without using your magic this time. It appears I have no excuse to punish you today, traitor," Kronryn takes Faedryl by the arm and pulls her into a standing position. The three prisoners are led back to the cell and unceremoniously dumped inside.

The Seventh Day, Cell

"You should just knock that one out. She sings nonstop," one of the drow outside the cell points at Nilvae, before the trio of prison guards and their pet quaggoth file away. They do not bother to answer the question of her donkey.

Duskryn comes to the door, as everyone gathers around in expectation of food, giving the prime opportunity for Stool to puff out spores upon the cell's entire population. Topsy and Turvy react with immediate suspicion, drawing back from the cloud and glaring at the mushroom. I do not appreciate doing this without our permission, the female gnome's thoughts lash out, chastising the myconid. But we do need to plan. Fine. I am Topsy, and my brother is Turvy. Her brother's thoughts are flurried, wild, and hyperactive.

Those with keen minds are able to catch the word Rat repeated over and over in Turvy's mind, which he always snuffs out with a new thought immediately after.

Telepathic introductions are made for most of the inhabitants: Shuushar's smooth thoughts flow clearly and evenly, Jimjar's ring with playful mischief, and Buppido's carry an uncomfortable dissonant reverb despite his polite and formal introduction.

The tray slides in, with nothing but eleven rolls of bread. "Food supplies are running thin," he whispers through the bars. "They may start selecting prisoners soon to... help with the cooking," the scarred and crippled drow chuckles darkly.

There is no introduction from the second of their newest cellmates. Ignorant to the spores' effects, the orc's thoughts are muddled by the poison, but made clear through a mantra echoing out from his mind: Food. In a drunken haze, he grabs two of the dinner rolls for himself and stuffs them into his gaping mouth. He seems prepared to grab more if not stopped.

Stool obtains a suit of wooden 'Hide Armor' while wearing the bucket.

[Amnestic]

[QUOTE=Amnestic;24885463]
https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell (After Workshift)

At least they'd be fed properly tomorrow, there was that at least. She's shoved into the cell roughly and finally spots the newcomers of the day - the fish, a myconid, and...a drow. Another like her, perhaps? One who saw the follies of drow society and received punishment for it? He wasn't one she knew, that much was clear. Faedryl approaches him, sat on the floor in a corner to himself, and sits in front of him crosslegged, her red eyes meeting his. Older than she was, she determined. Military trained from the scars and callouses on his hands. No spark in his eyes though. If he was an idealist, something had made him lose it. She speaks first, a whisper not for fear of being overheard - the cell wasn't large enough for that to ever be a real concern they could address with the number of people here - but rather to signify it wasn't a conversation intended for everyone. They speak in Elvish, their drow dialect clearly coming through.


"Name?" His eyes gaze into hers, and it takes a few moments of parted lips for him to respond.
"Sarith Kzerkarit. You are Faedryl Melad." He knew who she was then. Meaning either the guards had told him or...
"You were stationed here?" Not a definitive assertion, just an educated guess. She hadn't been privy to the events of the 'negotiation' while in a coma, after all.
"Yes. And now I am a prisoner, bound for the pits just as you." He sighs, his voice bereft of hope or energy. He was already less than what she'd hoped for. There was no fire in his belly, no desire, he'd given up. She frowns, and he continues to speak. "You plan to die in an ill-fated escape attempt." The others had been talking without her, it seems. She shouldn't be too surprised, if they'd 'trusted' her enough to let her in on any escape plans, then 'trusting' Sarith wasn't a great stretch.
"I don't plan to die at all," she retorts swiftly, cutting off any further negative words before he can speak them. "Our escape will be successful, and I will continue to live." Sarith lets out a mirthless laugh.
"You really believe that? You have nothing Faedryl," he stresses only using her first name, the implication clear to them both. "What could you possibly expect to accomplish even if you overpower the outpost? Even if you somehow aren't killed in the attempt? You'll be hunted down ruthlessly. You have no family. You have no support. You're all alone. And you will die alone. As we all will." He was right, in a way. She had lost everything and had ended up with nothing, not even her trusted spellbook. She sniffs in defiance. He wasn't right about everything.
"I have my life, Sarith. It's still mine, as are my skill and spells. I am still Drow, not some mewling gnome crying because he can no longer suckle at the teat." Her tone was harsh, derogatory, and clearly intended to belittle. She'd seen drow prisoners before, those who - like her - had fallen foul of the Matrons or committed a crime, but none ever so pathetic as Sarith was being. It was as if any pride or drive had left him. He was her opposite, completely and totally. "Family or not, imprisoned or not, I will find the path towards my goal and I will follow it. I will make the path if I have to."
"And what goal is that?" Faedryl bites down on her lower lip, hesitation bubbling for just a moment, but she wasn't deterred. She takes a deep breath, speaking her next words with full conviction. Shame of the subject wouldn't inspire anyone.
"The reformation of the drow. I've seen things you wouldn't believe, worlds and peoples beyond count, and when I touched that I saw the truth of the drow - that we will never succeed as we are. We're destined to fail, unless we change." He laughs again, louder, a bit more amused this time, and any hope that he might see she was right drains away from Faedryl. Even having ended up here, he still clung to the current system. He still believed that it was 'right' even when he was on the verge of it executing him. She doesn't laugh back, it's not funny to her. All she feels at him in that moment is pity.
"And you're going to do that from inside this cell? Change society one prisoner at a time?" His tone is as mocking as monotony can get. She stands, bringing an end to their discussion.
"I didn't expect words to work so easily, not on one as lot as you, but if you follow me, you'll see my truth soon enough." She shuffles away to a separate edge of the cell, leaving Sarith to himself. She was mad. Mad as any of them. But...but he didn't have anything else. No one else. He shuts his eyes from the world, from everything. Let her try then. He'd watch, and when her she claims her last breath he'd get the final word. He would be able to tell her she failed, and that it was all for nothing. Everything would always be for nothing.


Seventh Day, Cell

"We do it tomorrow." Faedryl whispers back to Duskryn hurriedly. "After the workshift." No further words need to be exchanged between them, so Faedryl turns away, spotting the orc scarfing down all their food. She was still hungry, hadn't eaten yesterday, and the anticipation of getting free was mounting in her. Black inky liquid spreads into the sclera of her eyes as her mind lashes out, trying to shove the orc back into the wall. Even if it doesn't work, the effort should get his attention. "That food's for us all utschut," she slips into deep speech without even noticing. She takes the opportunity to scoop up a single bread roll for herself. Long past due. "If you want to live past tomorrow you'll work with us."



Faedryl really is going to shove here using her telekinesis - orcyboy needs to succeed on a DC14 strength save or be pushed 'back' 5 feet.

Also utschut means 'scum'. She's not really herself right now you know.







https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Sixth Day, Cell (During Workshift)

"What does it matter? Will knowing my crime bring you some solace? Satisfaction? I will not share the details with you, leave me to my thoughts." Sarith snaps back, curling up on himself. Would it bring him resolution to tell others of something he couldn't remember? No, it would only bring scorn on himself, and he had quite enough of that already, he didn't need any more external mockery.

Seventh Day, Cell

Sarith doesn't intervene in the 'dispute' between the Melad and the orc, but he does watch, quietly, eyes burning as she continues to act. To intervene instead of letting the tide of death sweep over them all. He purses his lips, biting commentary on his tongue, but lets it roll back into his throat. Leave her to it. It made no difference to him.

[RandomWombat]

Faedryl's mental force shoves the orc into the wall and he grunts from the impact, pushing off and whirling around in search for what shoved him. His gaze settles on Faedryl, and it's not clear if he really understands her words - even without the drugs, orcs were never the sharpest javelins in the quiver. But it's clear he understands the hostility behind them. "You- wh-" he stumbles over his words as he stumbles over his feet, taking a wide swinging haymaker at Faedryl. She is able to duck beneath the swing, and his fist rams into the wall hard, causing him to growl and clutch his knuckle.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Stool is almost kicked out of his bucket 'armor' from the force of both the haymaker and the psychic thrust. STOOOOP! Please don't hurt anyone. he shouts mentally clinging to the chest of the huge orc extruding another cloud of spores, this time a dark grey one.

Pacifying Spores: DC 13 Con Save or stunned for a minute. Save each turn.






https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

And they call me mad. Nilvae comments, this time vocally. Just stop, all of you. This is what they want. We fight each other, they want us divided, not united. I know I am here the shortest, and I do not know how bad it can be in here, but we cannot punch each other, with mind or fist.

She turns to Faedryl, with her bread roll in hand. Take my share. You need it more than I do. And develop some sense of community, all of you. We need each other. she messages Faedryl. She then turns to the orc, with a bit of safety distance*. You are confused, drugged and beaten. But I feel your pride has taken the worst brunt of damage. Hurting feeble women is not helping your reputation nor your situation. Stop it.

*distance in such a sense that I prepare the dodge action.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Sixth Day- Cell

Borthan keeps quiet during the exchange between the two drow, but keeps his eyes on them. As ironic as it was based on his heritage, the dark elves were the underdark species that Borthan was least familiar with. He'd avoided them due to a healthy fear of their wicked, treacherous ways that the Gray Dwarves had instilled in him from a young age. He'd just begun hunting for them when he was first captured turning in a mark. He spoke their language, but he'd learned how from the dueregar as well. Still, he understood enough. One without hope, and one with spirit. Hopelessness was next to uselessness but spirit was needed to make this escape work. As the two finished their conversation, he spoke a few carefully chosen words in elvish, just loud enough for the room to hear clearly. Little change never hurt nobody. The cells certainly could use work.

The Seventh Day- Cell

Borthan advances quickly towards the orc and Faedryl, moving past Nilvae and attempting to interpose himself between the noble drow the orc. Alright, the first one's free but there won't be a round two. Not in this cave.. He would purposefully make himself a small target by turning sideways, arms down, ready in a slight crouch so that in an instant he can drop down and grab the knife. He hopes he doesn't have to because a secret knife is only useful if it is a secret, and wounds on the orc would probably tip off the guards. Still, he didn't intend to allow the brute to ruin what they'd been working toward. Take a few punches to the face, maybe, but not ruin the escape.





Providing advantage on someone's check to get Ront to back down.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day, Cell

Faedyl leaves the talking to - wait, was she just referred to as feeble? She'd remember that - Nilvae. Chances are whatever she said at this point it would only serve to make things worse. Drow weren't exactly well trusted, and for good reason. Still, she won't be caught unawares, and tenses herself for another approach by the orc in case words aren't enough.


Ready another telekinetic shove. Trigger: Orc moves to attack again. She'll shove him sideways, to throw him off balance which mechanically doesn't do much but it's satisfying either way.

[RandomWombat]

The cloud of spores causes the orc to sneeze, and he pushes the small mushroom away with his foot. Baring pointed tusks and fierce teeth, the hulking orc looks down at Borthan. Even in his addled eyes, Borthan can see the orc is taking measure of him. For one of elven heritage, Borthan is not a small or slim man. The orc grunts and turns away, breaking eye contact first. He pushes gruffly past Nilvae. "Need real food. Not little... bread balls," the orc complains as he finds a corner of his own, warily giving the derro at the back of the room his space when pale white eyes fail to break and look away first.

"Glad we got that sorted out," Jimjar smiles, moving over to where the food is. Duskryn apparently gets tired of waiting with the tray held out and drops it to walk away, the gnome gambler sliding over just in time to catch it and keep it steady. "It's not very much. Maybe some of us can split a few?" he suggests.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day - Cell

Still seated, Eldeth watches the spectacle before her. Tensions were running high and now with an orc added in to the mix she felt even less at ease. She shakes her head, chuckling at how the big bad orc cowed before the drow and half-drow. Her chuckle becomes louder as Nilvae mentions community. "Hah! Community! Two drow who might well turn on us at the prospect of earning their demon goddess' favor back, a brute cowed by a mushroom and a motley crew of underdark races does not a community make. At best an uneasy alliance and the sooner I am gone from here and back to my folk the better it is."






https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day - Cell

Dworic's muscles tense momentarily as conflict begins, but he relaxes once tensions die down once again. He stands, walks over to the bread rolls and takes one, splitting it and handing half to Eldeth. "We can split one," he rumbles nodding agreement with Jimjar. "If we are to get out, we must work together." His piece said, he sits and chews his bread slowly and methodically.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

I understand your concern, lady dwarf, but as far as I know no drow inside this cell is particularly devout or even a priest of their demons. They might be other allegiances at play, but at this point I take an ally bathed in abyssal fire rather than no ally at all. Nilvae chuckles brightly. Besides; you don't know if I don't serve the darkest gods in here, feeding you to the beasts I befriend.

We can parts ways when we escape. In fact we might be forced to, to split their attention. the final few sentences are thought again.






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Stool looks in awe at the orc, that just coughed up his spores and shrugged them off like it was nothing. You are sturdy one. Strong one. If we submit to you, can you lead us out of here? this thoughts thrust into the orc's head. The apparent feces running down Stool's face like a heavily gelled combover of dark hair makes the small myconid not really convincing.

You don't like me being in your head, do you?

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day, Cell

Faedryl drops from her 'fighting' stance (mostly being ready to dodge, she doesn't think her fists would do her any good here) as calm returns, if it could be called that. With a small, polite smile and a small wave she rejects Nilvae's offer, gesturing to the bread she'd managed to grab in the chaos for herself. "I don't think any of us are under any illusion this is anything but an alliance of brief convenience." Faedryl says, "I'm not your friend. I'm not your family. But none of us want to die here, so in the meantime," she takes a small nibble of the bread she took. It'd have to last. She nods at Dworic, "together, for now. Until we can all eat as much as we'd like."

[RandomWombat]

At Dworic's acceptance of his idea, Jimjar smiles and offers the surly dwarf a grateful nod. The right idea, my friend. Fortune has ferried us to one another - we would be fools to fold on such a fortuitous draw! his thoughts resonate through the psychic connection. Taking a bun, Jimjar splits it and offers half to Nilvae, even though she never reached for one herself. "Here you are, miss. You will need your strength to recover from whatever they dosed you with."

In my head? the orc's thoughts rumble and churn, struggling to stay coherent. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at Stool. "What are you about mushroom?" And he snarls, pointing at Eldeth. "Not cowed by tiny mushroom! Stupid dwarf."

It's a while before any of the guards come around. Perhaps their captors have started running out of tasks for them. But no - no such luck. Kronryn rears his ugly head again - though compared to Duskryn, his ugliness is masked below the surface. "Trash male, he-dwarf, mutt meat. Get up and line up. Everyone else back."

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day - Cell

"Humph," Eldeth snorts at Nilvae's response. "The best of your knowledge spans but an hour. And if you think that it takes a devoted priest of Lolth to commit atrocities in her name then you haven't been around the dark elves long enough."






https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day - Cell

Dworic listens listlessly at the exchange, but does nod acknowledgment back at Faedryl. Once the jailor summons the work crew interrupting the discussion - mental as it may be - he stands and briefly lays a reassuring hand on Eldeth's shoulder. He shakes his head at his new, even less creative, nickname and walks forward.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day, Cell

Sarith stands lazily, making sure to grab a piece of bread before he goes. Trash male. Was that the best Kronryn had? Well he shouldn't be too surprised. Intelligence had never been the man's strong suit. Minor word play tended to trip him up. For a moment he considers just not going, but he didn't want to give Kronryn the satisfaction of an excuse to beat him. Dragging his feet he slowly plods out of the cell, ready for the next workshift.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

The Seventh Day- Cell

Borthan looked at the guard, then over at Sarith, then to Dworic, then finally stands up, stretching far enough to elicit a pop from his back before stepping forward. He moves to the door, keeping his gaze down as his anger rose. Mutt meat. The gray dwarven word for half-elf wasn't exactly positive, but it carried a bit more respect than the doggerel insults of the guard. I'm going to make you remember my real name before I send you to meet your queen. He thought while staring at the guard's boots.

[RandomWombat]

The Seventh Day - Cell

After the guard and his workers leave, there is a grinding sound from the orc's spot. He has withdrawn a carnelian gemstone from... somewhere, and has begun whittling one end into a point using the stones. Though his idea isn't bad, it's making noise that could draw a guard to investigate.

From the back of the cell, Buppido is looking out from under his shaggy bangs and eying the would-be shiv greedily.

The Seventh Day - Work Shift

Led by the guard Kronryn, the three of them file through the now-familiar (to some more than others) tunnels and stalactites of Velkynvelve. Out into the common area, where they find the curious sight of a drow feeding a giant spider a piece of fresh meat. Meat that could have been for them.

Not curious in the sens that a drow is feeding a spider before their prisoners - that is par for the course. No, the curious part is firstly the spider itself - not the pinks and purples of Lolth-touched giant spiders common in the underdark, but a darker, more natural coloration. And secondly is the drow's intense gaze, as if purposefully trying to blink as little as possible while watching the spider; he does not even spare the prisoners a derisive glance or comment, so firm is his concentration.

"Pay attention, this one is complicated," Kronryn snaps his fingers to draw the prisoners' attention, speaking as if complicated orders might be too much for their meager minds. "Step one. Get a bucket." He points to six iron buckets beside him. "Step two. Fill the bucket with water from the waterfall." He points back the way they came, towards the white noise that is the steady roar of the water, now a familiar and natural sound. "Step three, bring the bucket to the kitchen and warm the water over the fire." With a nod over his right shoulder, he indicates one of the rooms off the common area.

"And lastly," he crosses his arms and looks towards the central stalactite, "Deliver the heated bucket to the guards waiting at the doors of the the shrine." At the indicated spot, two male drow are standing at attention with a statue of Lolth visible behind them. "Do you understand your instructions, or do you need them repeated for you?" Kronryn asks, looking through spiteful eyes at the three men before him.

Within the kitchen, during their task, they spot a dog tied up and whimpering in the corner beside the table.

The spider and dog he recognizes as Nilvae's pets, from his travels with her. The spider has the curious trait of changing between the forms of a spider and a donkey whenever unobserved.

The task is likely gathering and heating bathwater for the head Priestess of the outpost.

Each character must make checks for each portion of the task. There are no bonuses for exertion, but there are six buckets, each of which must be filled and delivered by someone. So each person needs to take two... or take one and let someone stronger take three, for example.

Step 1:
DC 12 Dexterity or Strength checks not to lose balance and fall off the bridge while gathering water, as it requires stretching arms out over the gap. The penalties for falling off the bridge are probably obvious.

A character may accept 1 Exhaustion to ignore this check instead, by taking a more conservative but tiring approach and filling the bucket more slowly.

Step 2:
DC 12 Strength check for hauling the water; failure is 1 Exhaustion.

Step 3:
DC 12 Dexterity or Constitution check to avoid dropping the scalding hot metal bucket after it is heated. Failing this check means spilling the water and starting that bucket all over again.

These steps must be completed for each bucket.

[RandomWombat]

The Seventh Day - Work Shift

After retrieving their first round of buckets, the group makes their way towards the bridge over the waterfall. It's a simple task, in theory. They reach out and hold their buckets, gathering water that flows down from the falls. Borthan and Dworic have no trouble, keeping their footing firm. But in his slack, depressed stance, Sarith is caught off guard by the force of the water rushing down. He stumbles and slips on the wet wood, tumbling facefirst into the torrent of water.

The spider webs below the bridge catch Sarith by the leg, leaving him dangling upsidedown as the water batters his face and body. The small bit of webbing that caught him doesn't hold, however, slowly stretching down as his clothes become waterlogged and he plunges into the pool below, mouth full and eyes blind in the water. At the opening from the tunnel to the bridge, the supervising drow's laughter can be heard through the noise of the water. "Listening to his whining for all those years was worth it just to see that. Prisoners, keep working!" He turns to the quaggoth and gives them orders to go down and retrieve Sarith using the lift.

After heating up the bucket, however, Borthan and Dworic find them hard to carry without burning themselves. Despite their best efforts, they drop the buckets before they reach the shrine and spill all of their hard-gathered water.

Picking their buckets back up, they have no choice but to start over.

Sarith technically has a chance to escape if he decides to make a blind run for i after his fall. He has a few rounds worth of action before Dworic also falls down.

He knows the gray ooze is somewhere down in the pool, but it does not attack him yet - if it is even nearby. The slime is practically impossible to spot in the water.

Assuming he doesn't go down after them, Borthan successfully completes his second bucket, completing 1/6 buckets.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day - Work Shift
The dwarf manages the first bucket easily enough, though spills the water in transit. With a heavy sigh, he starts the process again, spilling the cumbersome load once more.

A shadow crosses Dworic's eyes and he growls low - a deep guttural sound, primal and animalistic, low and predatory. Determined to not be deterred by damnable buckets, he takes one in each arm and fills them both, carrying them on his shoulders with heavy steps, finally reaching his destination with the cargo intact.

Discord shows the sad tale of Dworic's bucket woes.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day, Cell

When Sarith falls the first time, he doesn't yell or scream or cry. He simply falls, letting gravity take him away, embracing the inevitability of a death that doesn't come to take him, just yet. Now sodden and soaked, he drags his sorry carcass from the pool - death by ooze sounded distinctly unpleasant, and didn't want to give Kronryn or the others the satisfaction.

The trip back up the lift is short and direct, and he plods along in wet clothing without any particular enthusiasm or speed. He takes little notice of the other drow's jeers, even when he drops his second bucket from the heat and has to start over again. The strain in his arms is taking its toll though and - perhaps due to lack of effort, perhaps due to too much effort - he's carried across the edge of the bridge into open air for a second time that day. Whether the drow would send the Quaggoths down a second time for him was another matter, but at least he couldn't get more wet than he already was.

[RandomWombat]

The Seventh Day - Work Shift

The drow watch with pleased sneers as Borthan and Dworic struggle to carry the buckets to and from the shrine, scalding their hands upon hot metal and then repeating the sisyphean task. "Put your back into it dwarf! Thought your kind were supposed to be hardier than this," one heckles as Dworic struggles against mounting exhaustion.

While he and Borthan manage to complete a few more buckets, Sarith promptly falls from the bridge a second time. Kronryn looks a little less amused this time, going to the lift to meet him after the quaggoth scoop him up out of the water.

"Having some trouble, traitor?" the drow officer asks, looking over his sopping wet living corpse with disdain. "Maybe you'd like to tap out, and let the female do your work for you?"

Borthan completes his second bucket, and Dworic manages to catch up to him, completing two.

That puts them at 4/6, with only Sarith's failed portion left.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating on:

Borthan sweats, trembles, and clutches his fists in pain as he manages to bring in the second bucket. Hands scorched, pride hurt, and frustration mounting, he waits for Sarith to return, eyes filled with hatred and struggling to stop himself from going for his knife.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day, Work Shift

"Hmm, no, I think I'm fine." Sarith drawls, plodding back to attempt another bucket. "The water's refreshing when you get used to it. It's your necks on the line if Ilvara's bath is late." He bends down and hooks the bucket into his palm. "Not as if there's anything you can do to me that I've not already done to myself." Prisoners or not, if they failed to perform then Ilvara would punish the outpost first. And then, perhaps, the guards would punish him. But if it meant they hurt, then it might be worth it. He had to take what small pleasures he could find otherwise. Now on the other side of the dynamic he could see how useless it all was. They didn't always have a steady flow of prisoners, if they'd set up a channel to divert water without needing buckets or leaning over the edge of the bridge, such a slog wouldn't be required. The torments he'd inflicted in the past seemed so...fleeting. Banal. Nothing.

"Don't worry though, I'll do my level best to not dis-" His next words are cut off as the rushing water bashes down on his arms and he's forced off the bridge for the third time today. Ah. All so pointless.

[RandomWombat]

The Seventh Day - Work Shift

"The Mistress will be assuaged to know how much you are suffering right now," Kronryn croons, leading Sarith back to work. But his work is cut short yet again. For the third time today, Sarith goes tumbling off the bridge. Borthan and Dworic can see Kronryn's face dim from amusement into definite annoyance now. "Bring him up! And drag him back to the cell, bring someone fresh to replace this useless lump," he orders.

But as the quaggoth descend from above for a third time to pull the floating Sarith out of the cold underground pool, he feels something wrap around his ankle and a searing pain as it begins to engulf his entire leg.

Through the webs below the bridge, Borthan and Dworic can see a gleaming, dark mass rise up out of the water and begin to overtake Sarith.

The repeated splashes into the water have drawn the attention of our resident ooze.

Sarith is slimed for 6 damage and 11 acid damage.

Initiative time.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 6/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day, Work Shift

It stung. It stung a lot. Was this the end of Sarith? Doomed to be swallowed like so much other trash by the consuming ooze? Tired, hurt, wet, his vision blurs and Faedryl's words bubble up to him. The faces of the prisoners. The faces of the outpost. Things he still wants to see. Kronryn dead. The prisoners hopes dashed. Things that still elicit joy. It's slight, it's small, but it's something for him to cling onto. He flaps in the water, finding bursts of speed that he didn't think he was capable of in his current state, streaming through the water away from at a remarkable pace for one as tired as him.

He'd not let the ooze kill him. If only so he could laugh at Kronryn's corpse. Maybe he could die after that, but not until then.


Bonus Action: Cunning Action: Disengage.
Action: Dash for DOUBLE SPEED.
Move: Away from the slime, towards the lift.

[RandomWombat]

The Seventh Day - Work Shift

Sarith swiftly swims away, fueled by sheer spite not to allow the world to kill him on its terms. The undulating mass follows him to the edge of the water, but not beyond, sinking back beneath the surface and out of sight with a slurping sound. The drow's leg is still stinging, and covered in red sores where the skin has been burned off. The two quaggoth meet him halfway and drag him back to the lift, and to the relative safety of the outpost above.

Kronryn is waiting for him. "Move him to the center of the platform and hold him," he instructs the quaggoth. From his belt, the drow withdraws a whip, and Sarith knows what comes next. The two hulking brutes hold him by the arms and force him to remain standing, with his back to Kronryn. Then the lash slashes across his back, leaving a long painful mark and tearing open his soaking wet prison rags. As the second whip-stroke comes, it becomes too much and Sarith's consciousness fades, leaving him hanging limply from the quaggoths' arms.

With a disappointed sound, Kronryn spits on the ground. "Bring the filth back to the cell."

Sarith's unconscious form is dragged past Borthan and Dworic to be returned to the cell. Kronryn follows behind the two quaggoth, leaving his subordinates to supervise the continued bucket filling. "Keep working or you will be lashed and replaced," he snaps at the two of them.

The Seventh Day - Cell

The passive waiting is interrupted when Kronryn arrives with two quaggoth dragging Sarith with them. They lower him onto the ground in the cell, and the other prisoners can see he is in a sorry state. Two lashes along his back are bleeding against his soaking wet shirt, and one of his pant legs is entirely gone and covered in red, bloody sores.

Shuushar gets up from his meditation spot and rushes over to check on the state of Sarith. Kronryn tosses the kuo-toa a roll of bandages and instructs, "Ensure he survives long enough to see his execution."

About to turn around, Kronryn spots the carnelian gemstone poorly concealed in the orc prisoners hands and scowls. He points at one of the quaggoth and orders, "Bring me that stone." The orc struggles against the huge feline monster, but is thrown aside and the stone yanked from his grasp, the sharpened end still a work in progress. Kronryn looks around at the other prisoners and states, "There will be no rations tomorrow." With that he and his quaggoth leave, locking the door behind them.

Unwinding the roll of bandages, Shuushar starts to bind Sarith's wounds to keep them from getting infected.

Sarith is knocked unconscious by the lashing, and suffers another Exhaustion from his punishment.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 0/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (2), Unconscious, Stable
Concentrating: --


Seventh Day, Work Shift

He laughs when the first lash strikes him. A barking laugh. Not because it doesn't hurt - it hurts like the hells - but because that was all they could do. Lash out with whips and fists and blades as if it mattered anymore. The realisation that it was all so fleeting, that their anger and amusement didn't matter and that his pain would only be temporary brings him a surprising amount of peace. They wanted to hurt him to send a message. They wanted to break him. Turns out Sarith had already been broken, and the whip put him back together, albeit not quite how he was before. On the edge of death, on the edge of life. He drifts into unconsciousness with a satisfied smile, feeling like he was beginning to truly understand the world in a way he never even considered before his...fall.








https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --
Seventh Day, Cell

Lack of food tomorrow wouldn't be too much of an issue. If anything it would help. They'd fight harder if they were more desperate, and the guards may assume they'd be too run down to muster any challenge. Not likely. They were mad, hungry, and the threat - judging by Sarith's unconscious corpse - was real. Motivations would be at an all time high, she just needed to keep the flames stoked. "It has to be tomorrow." She says to no one in particular, before adding, ice in her voice: "We'll kill them all." She has no affection for Sarith - in this life or her previous one she can't help but see him as a waste of space, but they wouldn't stop with him, and she refuses to be the next one they drag back into the cell bloody and broken.

She glances around to ensure no nearby guards before going to Buppido and dropping the gem she'd kept concealed into his open hand. Hand on hip, full of assurances, she continues speaking "Keep it quieter than the orc, don't lose this one too. They took tomorrow's food. They find another one they might take a hand next." And it wouldn't be her hand that gets taken. She still needed both of those.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating on:

Borthan watches the punishment of Sarith with his bottom lip between his teeth. Each slash of the whip brought back memories. Bad memories. The feeling of your skin being sheered off your back by braided leather. He didn't want this for the male drow. Hells, he didn't even like him. But a long time ago Borthan had promised Ee'char that he would help any prisoner, slave, or captive he could, and that promise still held today. With more resolve to escape, and to escape with every prisoner at his side, Bort turns to Dworic, speaking in dwarvish. Neither one of us is in good shape to try this stupid chore by ourselves. Here's what I propose- I fill the bucket while you hold my waist, then we both carry it back, then we both carry it hot. Then we switch. Hopefully making each bucket a two man job will make it easier, eh Biggun?"

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day - Work Shift
Dworic looks to Borthan in silence, his seething anger at the drow and this imbecilic task barely contained. It would seem that his apathy might finally be giving way to something more.

The dwarf cracks his knuckles audibly and pops his neck. He nods agreement wordlessly.

[RandomWombat]

The Seventh Day - Cell

The stone plummets into Buppido's hand and he catches it smoothly. "Ahhh," he breathes out, turning over the rock and looking up at Faedryl with a broad smile. His teeth are cleaner than one might expect down here - gleaming white like his eerie eyes in the dark. "Thank you, so very much."

Taking the stone, he begins grinding it against the ground, more carefully than the orc had. The big brute looks at him jealously, and grunts. The process is still quite loud, but their primary guards seem to be busy with the work shift - nobody comes around.

The Seventh Day - Work Shift

The two discuss their plan, as Kronryn walks back, tucking the bloody whip onto his belt. He watches from across the bridge with a glare in his eyes that says he's looking for any excuse to get it out again.

Working together and with Dworic as an anchor, the risk of falling is nullified completely, and the other tasks are made at Advantage - cancelling out their Disadvantage. Dworic may spend another Rage if he wishes; I allow Advantages and Disadvantages to 'stack' in that they are not all wasted once one has cancelled the other. Since they'd have two Advantages and one Disadvantage, it'd push it over to Advantage again.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Nilvae looks at the beaten and broken drow. She gets up, but freezes midwalk. It was ridiculous to think they could resist the drow machinations. They could escape or even dare to oppose them. They toy with you, and when they are done, they torture, then kill you. Suddenly the most ridiculous thing she thought of was her hoping to escape. It was all so silly. She started laughing.






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Waddling over the small mushroom watches Shuushar bandage the fallen drow. Does not look good. Can we save him? the small myconid asks with genuine hope for the fallen drow. It waddles over to Faedryl. Why does your kind do that? Destroy one of their own? It makes little sense. Was he sick? Bad for community?

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --
Seventh Day, Cell

Faedryl's eyes bounce off the laughing halfblood. More madness yet to come. Every moment they spent here was wearing them down. Maybe she should have had Duskryn do it today and...no, Sarith was a body that could be useful yet, best to let it heal up overnight. Hopefully tomorrow's work shift would be less grueling. Hopefully the- Her train of thought is interrupted by the myconid speaking into her mind. Again. Revolting. No, no, play nice, if only for the sake of the plan. As long as it turned its spores on the outpost she could put up with it for the moment. "Sarith's weakness wasn't the problem," she says, glancing at his bandaged form, silently thinking Though it is a problem. "Drow culture encourages hurting others to advance or amuse yourself. It's cutthroat, murderous, and utterly self-destructive. One of them the guards likely thought it would be fun to hurt him, so they did it. Now he can't work and requires healing." She stops herself from sniffing, concerned about more of Stool's spores in the air.

"I understand the logic they use. I just think their logic is wrong."

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2)
Concentrating: --

Seventh Day - Work Shift
Dworic and Borthan make a pretty good team, which is why spilling the fruits of their labor in a hot, watery mess, stings so much more. The dwarf's skin is reddened and burned by the hot water, but he only utters the occasional grunt in frustration. He takes hold of the bucket and walks back to the waterfall, steadying Borthan so they could fill it yet again. Then finally, after what felt like hours upon hours of the most idiotic labor he'd ever performed, their task was done.

[RandomWombat]

The Seventh Day - Work Shift

When yet another bucket spills to the floor, their supervising drow officer looks on in disappointed frustration. "Pathetic," he is heard, muttering to himself. But through a combined effort, the two are able to finally bring the last bucket to the shrine. "You will be lucky if the Head Priestess does not flay your hands for such incompetence," Kronryn spits at their feet. "Back to the cell."

The Seventh Day - 'Evening'

"Might I have some help moving him?" Shuushar asks in his soft voice, deep and yet floaty like a soap bubble dancing in the air. Jimjar gets up to help, and together they move Sarith away from the door - before their guards toss somebody back in on top of him. The kuo-toa sighs and his thoughts flow back to Stool in answer, He will live. There will be permanent scarring upon this leg, I fear. At least it is nowhere a pant leg cannot hide.

After Dworic and Borthan are tossed back into the cell, the whole crew is together once again to piece together their final plan. All save for Sarith, passed out and in the care of the fishman. Stretching his back, Jimjar grins and looks around at everybody, meeting each of their eyes for a moment. "So tomorrow's the day, huh folks? We ready to get this show on the road?" he asks, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

At the back of the cell, Buppido is using a sharpened piece of carnelian gemstone to slowly and methodically trim his beard. "I have everything I need," he answers confidently.

The twins nod tentatively from their reclusive corner, and across them them the orc stares at the ground from between his knees in a slumped posture.

The Eight Day

The jangling of keys is what stirs awake those not already roused, or keeping watch. Sarith feels consciousness returning to him. There is a burning pain in his leg, which has been wound in white bandages now stained reddish-brown with dried blood, and a dull ache in his back from more than just the stone floor. The kuo-toa is sitting next to him in meditation.

There is a distant buzzing sound that elicits a deep nausea in the gut.

Duskryn approaches the window of the cell. Behind him, led by two guards, is a hulking quaggoth bound up in ropes and chains. The scarred drow opens up the door and ushers the new prisoner inside. "Get settled. This is-" he is cut off by a shout in drow-accented elvish from someone in the direction of the quaggoth den.

"Demons! A flock of them headed this way!" a voice calls out in warning. The buzzing is growing louder, and the drow guards at the door all turn to look towards the sound and the voice, one of them stepping onto the bridge to see. But almost as soon as he steps out, the drow keels over onto the wooden bridge, lying there unmoving as if a puppet that just had his strings cut.

The buzzing of the fly-demons known as Chasme is capable of inducing sudden fainting spells, which can last for as long as ten minutes.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Stirred from her daydream, Nilvae notices a distinct buzzing sound. Insect swarms? Down here? she wonders aloud, then sees the door open.IT'S NOW OR NEVER!! she shouts, waking and warning even the least attentive. We need to use this distraction. Go, now!






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Disrupting his eccentric song about the Underdark, a thing the others just notices as faint smells of varying spores, Stool jumps up and says. Out! Yesyes! and jumps outside, lookin if he feels, hears, no smells the presence of Psilofyr. Then he looks at Sarith and looks for something suitable to be enchanted with nature's bounty.

Yesyes. Come outside, Sarith, and feel the bounty of Psilofyr.

Go outside to find something to be enchanted with Goodberry. I assume Underdark uses mushrooms or lizards or whatever for it. Also looking for a stick to be used by Shillelagh.

Looking for stick: 15
Looking for shrooms: 20

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating on:

Borthan doesn't hesitate for a second. From his position by the door he immediately moves to the quaggoth, moving to aid him freeing himself from any ropes and chains that remain. It's your lucky day, fuzzball. You don't have to stay here very long. Follow along and we'll get you out of here. Help out and we'll get along just fine. Just remember- freedom is worth dying for. He'd asked for more people and he'd gotten them, now it was time to see what they could do. Drawing the stone dagger from his boot, turning and waving the cave dwellers forward, he draws the rope from his thigh and throws it on the floor for anyone with the fortitude to use it. Without looking to see if anyone is following him, Borthan moves swiftly through the door, striding directly up to the unconscious drow guard and attempts to take their weapon with his free hand. Fortune favor the bold!





Borthan will attempt to arm himself with whatever the unconscious guard had in his right hand, wielding the dagger in his left, unless the guard has two weapons he can grab in the same action.


https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

What? Oh... I see. Derendil flexes his impressive bulk to shed whatever bonds have been left on them with Borthan's assistance. Then he turns to take in the situation as Borthan pushes past him. Looking down at his massive clawed fist, he pauses for a second to remember who he truly was before joining the abrupt half-blood outside, presumably to do battle with their oppressors. On his way through the doorway he raises his voice to it's loudest capability and shouts For Nelrindenvane! For freedom! Forward! in the tongue of the sun elves.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: Create Bonfire
Eighth Day, Escape

The demon's buzzing and droning as what Faedryl would delicately refer to as a complication. A part of her wanted to just let it play out. Either the demons won and were weakened or the outpost won and was weakened. Either way they'd have an easier time of escaping later. On the other hand, the chaos of an ongoing attack was possibly their best hope. The decision gets made for her by the others but it's not one she disagrees with, so she's happy to oblige. "The demons buzzing can knock you out for about ten minutes, a hit is enough to wake you." They were in no position or state to fight off a concerted Chasme attack. She moves out of the now open cell door, immediately feeling the by now semi-familiar rush of her magic 'unlocking'. One drow was stood perilously close to the edge. She'd been hoping for just such an opportunity, and lashes out with her mind, inky black liquid edge closing to her irises. The two near the quaggoth pen...she couldn't take them on her own. Better to do what she could in clearing the path to the armoury.

With her shove attempted she begins muttering the incantation to summon flames up. As long as she kept them away from the bridges she should have free reign to incinerate everything else. Flames spring up beneath the feet or her target. Once the spell surges up, she darts back into the the cell, careful not to expose herself to too much danger. "Armoury!" They needed weapons if they were to defend themselves, and she wanted her spellbook back.


Move: Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
Bonus Action: Telekinetic Shove the drow above Derendil. He needs to beat a DC14 strength save [roll0] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl, which punts him off the edge of the platform and down the webway.
Action: Cast Create Bonfire either on Kronryn (if the shove succeeds) or the drow above Derendil (if it didn't). Gotta beat a DC14 dex save [roll1] (+modifiers) or take [roll2] fire damage.







https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

Sarith hears the calls. Of Faedryl. Of the mushroom. The pain was still lingering in his back, the tiredness in his legs. For a moment he thinks about simply not. Let them fight and die. But then Kronryn might die without him, he might not get to see the stupid expression on Kronryn's face. And that, somehow, is enough to make Sarith stand up. He's slow off the mark, unable to reach the fallen drow before Borthan does. He'd have to wait to get weapons, so instead he turns his attention to evasion. He puts two and two together quickly enough when he sees Faedryl completely ignore Duskryn. A traitor. The lengths a spurned heart would take you. "Duskryn," he says by way of acknowledgement. "Give me a weapon." It's not a plea, nor does it have the force of a command. A suggestion then, perhaps. He can't help fight drow or demon with his fists, but a crossbow with a box of bolts would serve him quite nicely.


Move: Out of the cell, south of Prince Derendil.
Bonus Action: Cunning Action: Dash, to have enough movement.
Action: Dodge

[RandomWombat]

Buppido is out of the cell in a flash, slipping through everyone. A small stone flies through the air and impacts the wall beside the guard next to the new quaggoth prisoner. Buppido clicks his tongue in disappointment and takes out his gemstone shiv, baring his white teeth in a fearsome smile. Moving up behind him, Jimjar positions himself near the door and uses a foot to keep it from accidentally - or intentionally - being closed on them.

Borthan steps outside and undoes the chains and ropes binding the quaggoth, freeing him. Then Borthan steps past onto the bridge and is met with the sight and sound of four menacing demonic insects, with faces like fearsome jutting lances, chasing a pair of vulture-like demons not far away from the outpost walls. None of them seem to be paying the outpost any mind, engrossed in their own predatory chase. The buzzing of the demonic flies turns Borthan's stomach, and his vision flickers with colorful spots. The ground slips out from under him and he falls atop the unconscious drow.

Dashing out of the cell, Sarith is met with an ambivalent look from Duskryn. "Would you hand a rabid hound a sword?" he asks Sarith, sardonically. The scarred elf scoffs with the same empty, distant look on his face as Sarith. "I've done enough."

As if shoved by someone, the drow warrior attempting to hold the quaggoth prisoner staggers back and hits his head on the wall, as a plume of flame spawns up from the stone beneath him. He leaps and dances atop the fire, avoiding being burnt.

The twins remain towards the back, letting the crowd in front of them move out first. Pushing himself up off of the wall, the orc sluggishly begins plodding towards the door, clearly still recovering from his dosage of sedatives the other day.

Calmly, Shuushar folds his hands in front of him and walks towards the door, keeping an eye out for injuries on their side.

Surprise Round
Buppido Bonus Action to Dash, then throws a stone at Drow Warrior, but misses.
Borthan unties Derendil as his action, then moves onto the bridge, in range of the Chasme buzz. He fails his Con save and passes out, for 10 minutes or until he takes damage.
Sarith moves out and uses Dodge.
Stool finds that the glowing mushrooms on the wall of the cell should work well enough for Goodberry, once ferried out of the anti-magic zone, and he is able to gather a bundle. For a club he does not see many options besides prying up boards from the bridge.
Faedryl shoves Drow Warrior for 3 bludgeoning damage against the wall, but he avoids being burned by the bonfire.
Derendil and Nilvae may take their surprise round actions.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

His bonds loosed, Derendil's mind first goes to defensive magic. Armor. Resistance. Protection. Then he realizes, in a moment of pure cruelty, that these dark elf mongrels took his spellbook and his wand, leaving him helpless. Well, that is except for the muscles and claws of this monstrous form. After his shout he lays into the nearest guard, awkwardly slashing upward at the drow's head. Despite his inexperience navigating this body, the rush of blood from the attack tapped into something. Something deep inside the beast in which he now resides. That felt GOOD. So strong, so dangerous. Well, when one is transfigured, they must use all tools available to their new form, I suppose.





Derendil will claw the guard to the north of him. I believe it is the same one who Faedry pushed. [roll0] and [roll1] damage. Bort will keep, it's Derendil's time to shine.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Nilvae escapes the cell looks northwards and then west. She snaps her fingers and the area in the north glows in a pale green light. Look there. Tasty, tasty dark elves! she tries to coax the demons into starting with the drow up north.

Faerie Fire into north. Dex save DC 14 or be outlined in limegreen, the most disgusting color!

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Dworic once again wakes feeling sore and tired, but today some of his old fire is back. Apathy has finally given way to the rage of old and if Haela is keeping him alive still then a mightier doom awaits him. Sleep quickly leaves him when he hears the shouts outside and his cellmates dash forward. Springing to his feet, he runs out to the door to take stock of the situation.

• Move: 25' W to the door
• Action: Dodge
• Bonus: --






https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Eldeth can't help but feel disappointed when Sarith regains consciousness. She had hoped for one less drow in her immediate vicinity. She takes some comfort in seeing how Dworic's mood was improving. Brooding anger was more promising than morose apathy.

Then all happens at once. Eldeth hesitates, unsure of what to do, unable to stick to the shadows, she inches forward trying to stay close to Dworic. Maybe they'd be able to make a run for it. "To the armory indeed," she says in a low voice, begrudgingly agreeing with the drow female.

• Move: 10' NW
• Action: Dodge
• Bonus: --

[RandomWombat]

Derendil's savage claws slash through the drow's chain shirt while he is still reeling from dodging the burst of flame. They dig into the skin and draw blood, though the strike is not so deep as the 'quaggoth' would have liked. Blood runs down his claws onto his hands, feeling warm and wet. Derendil feels a sharp sting in his upper arm, and a woozy feeling around the drow bolt sticking out. "Get back in the cell, you bunch of stupid beasts!" Kronryn shouts at the escaping prisoners.

In a sparkling flash, the northern half of the tunnel lights up. It catches the drow in the hallway, and the drow inside the stalactite - behind the drow are bow slits for shooting down into the cavern below. Both of them blink away stars in their eyes from the same dazzling lights that mark them. A shape moves past her, surprisingly fast for his soft footsteps. A small orange shape shoots out in Buppido's hand and slashes across the drow's thigh, loosing a vicious flow of blood. The derro's white hair and mustache is stained red and he turns to face Nilvae, making a two-fingered salute from his forehead. The drow tries to stem the bleeding with panicked hands, but soon passes out on the floor.

The derro's celebration is short-lived as the quaggoth pen door slams open against the wall. One of the creatures, part bear and part feline, lunges at Buppido and scratches him across the cheek as he tries to duck away the last second. His white eyes practically glow in rage at the scratch left down across the side of his beard. "Oooh. I am going to bleed you for that." He shows nothing but cold anger and confidence in the face of two more quaggoth beginning to emerge.

All the while, their scarred accomplice pushes past in the opposite direction of the flow of people out of the cell, sliding in and settling into the corner out of sight from beyond. Duskryn's eyes meet Faedryl's as he slumps back against the stone wall. "Such a shame I was shoved inside when the prisoners escaped, and locked in," he laments sardonically in droning drow-elven.

Jimjar and Topsy slide out and try to engage the wounded drow warrior in hand-to-hand combat, but trying to reach over the flames proves difficult with their short stature and arms.

Surprise Round
Derendil claws Drow Warrior for 6 damage.
Nilvae casts Faerie Fire, making two Drow Warriors to the north. Both are lit up like Christmas trees. (Lock symbol on token is Concentration, Green dots on drow are Faerie Fire Advantage)

Round 1
Buppido sneak attacks one of the marked drow for 15 damage, a one hit KO.

Kronryn shoots Derendil for 8 piercing damage, and he must make a DC 13 Con save or be Poisoned for 1 hour. On a failure of 5 or more, he falls unconscious until he takes damage or is woken with an action.

Jimjar swings at Drow Warrior, but misses.
Borthan is unconscious.
Topsy swings at Drow Warrior, but misses.

Quaggoth claws Buppido for 9 damage.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith and Stool are up! Unless Derendil is down.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

Sarith tuts, loudly, at Duskryn's ignorance. Sarith was as much a traitor as Duskryn was, but at least Sarith had the excuse of madness, perhaps a curse. What was Duskryn's excuse for unleashing death on his comrades? That Ilvara wasn't bedding him anymore? That she'd swapped him for a younger model? It was somehow more pathetic than even Sarith was, to obsess so much. Deprived of weapon from the lovespurned traitor, he lashes out, booting the thinblood back into the waking world. He frantically scans whats nearby, frantically searching for something he can equip himself with - Buppido's target has just that, even if it's in the opposite direction of the armoury, what mattered more was getting something in hand so that he didn't become demon food. He swings around the derro and grabs at whatever weapon he can grab.


Action: Kick Borthan awake for 2 damage.
Bonus Action: Cunning Action: Dash, to have enough movement.
Move: Cross over Buppido (skirting around OA of the fire-loving drow) to get next to the unconscious(/dead?) Drow warrior.
Object Interaction: Grab the best melee weapon the drow's got on hand for sneak attacks - piercing, ideally, but he'll take slashing if it's all they've got.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 18/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Rage (10 rounds)
Concentrating on:

Derendil feels the sharp pain of the bolt entering his body, and he starts to let out a strangled cry of pain. Instead, a bestial roar escapes his lips. What is happening? I'm... I'm losing... control! His mind goes blank and he surges forward, slashing at the drow warrior again with his claws again in a brutal rage, howling, spitting, hissing, and shouting unintelligibly in his fury. Once he has struck down the drow before him, he wheels and charges for the source of his pain, bearing down on Kronyn with murderous intent.





Bonus Action- Rage
Action- Attack- [roll0] to hit and [roll1] damage.
Move- Move to be adjacent to Kronyn if the Drow Warrior falls down from damage.

[RandomWombat]

Shaken awake by a boot to the side of the head, Borthan's eyes flutter open just in time for a huge shape to sail over him across the bridge. Derendil charges through the buzzing of the demons, barely reaching his ears in the savage rage that has swallowed him. Kronryn's eyes widen as the quaggoth bears down on him.

The drow warrior falls down onto the flames, the smell of burning flesh filling the area. Sarith dashes away and snatches up a drow shortsword from the ground, the handle familiar in his hands.

Derendil slashes Drow Warrior for 11 damage. He faceplants into the fire, suffering an immediate failed death save.
Sarith kicks Borthan awake and dashes, obtaining a Shortsword. There are also a dagger and a hand crossbow there.
Borthan is immune to the Chasme buzz for 24 hours.

Nilvae's turn is still up.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: Faerie Fire

The half-elf quickly gathers up some tiny stones and enchants them with a slight blue hue. She starts by throwing one at Borthan's enemy, their impact suddenly heavier than sling bullets.

Magic Stone [roll0]
[roll1]

[RandomWombat]

The glimmering stone impacts the drow in the side of the head as he lay unconscious on the bridge. A sharp cry of pain, and he jolts up, scrabbling for his weapon.

Nilvae casts Magic Stone and flings one, hitting the Drow Warrior for 7 damage and waking him up.

It is also Stool's turn - my bad, I missed him on the turn order.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP)
Concentration: -

Jumping up and down, the little fungal friend tries to get a better view of what's happening. Chaos was ensuing, so Stool rushed out to defend his new "friends". As it moves out of the cell, a subtle breeze carries a cloud of black vapor towards the small myconid, enveloping him, making him larger. The harmonic smell of his presence is replaced by something fiercer, it feels like anger.

Sarith, find me stick for bonking! it echoes inside the tortured drow's head.

Moving north, activating Symbiotic Entity, gaining the following:
-12 temp HP
- as long as I have these temp HP, my Halo of Spores deals double damage and my melee attacks deal another 1d6 necrotic damage.

I use my reaction on the quaggoth's turn to deal Halo of Spores damage (DC 13 Con to negate, [roll0] necrotic damage)

[RandomWombat]

The drow on the bridge, awoken by the stone to the head, scrambles to his feet in a panic. His stance is unsteady, but he grabs his blade and locks eyes with Borthan, who is still on the ground and seeing stars after Sarith's boot stirred him from unconsciousness. The drow lunges down at him, and Borthan is just able to catch the blade before it pierces into his chest. It comes to a stop just in time, with a thin, shallow cut.

Borthan can see the approach of a spider along the web beneath them, crawling towards the wall to climb up.


Ront shoves past Dworic, pushing his way out of the cell and stumbling his way towards the fighting - and towards escape. Just behind him, little Turvy scurries out less noticeably, fingers weaving out patterns in the air as he moves. The moment he's out of the cell, glimmers of white-blue flicker around his fingertips and he points at the quaggoth beyond Stool with a command word in gnomish. "Freeze!" A ray of similarly colored light arcs out and stings the arm of the quaggoth with a terrible chill. But it seems to do little more.


From inside of the stalactite turret, a second drow steps out to assist the one Buppido bled and dropped. A blade flashes out from the drow's scabbard and clashes with the one Sarith just seized from the ground, jarring his hand painfully with the impact.

Stool activates Symbiotic Entity, gaining 12 temp hp.

Drow Warrior attacks Borthan with Prone advantage, dealing 4 damage.
Drow Warrior attacks Sarith, dealing 4 damage.

Ront Dashes.

Giant Spider climbs up the stone wall.

Turvy casts Ray of Frost on Quaggoth, dealing 1 cold damage.

It is now Faedryl's turn.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2[/QUOTE]

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: Create Bonfire
Eighth Day, Escape

Was this going well? Was it going poorly? She couldn't tell, lacking any real experience in the flow of battle or combat beyond short sparring matches and tiny skirmishes. This was...hectic. Panicked. But then it probably should be. She ignores Duskryn's comment. He chose neutrality, like a coward. His principles and convictions were lacking, and he's suffer for them but they had more important matters to attend to. Faedryl darts out of the prison again, assessing the situation. One down, good. The new quaggoth prisoner seemed to be pulling his weight dutifully, charging forwards towards the armoury. Two in the way. She chooses to focus on the far target. The one closer had others who could strike at it. She loosens her jaw and the flow of magic surges up around her throat. From her lips comes not a word, but the distinct, instantly recognisable sound of a bell clanging, as if her mouth had become metal, her tongue a clanger. With one last look at a spider climbing the wall she sends a mental push to try to keep it out of their way, before slipping back into the prison, away from the encroaching foes. She is delicate, after all.


Move: Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
Bonus Action: Telekinetic Shove the spider on the wall to the group's southwest.. It needs to beat a DC14 strength save [roll0] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl, so further along the wall away from the group. Might make a difference for distance, possibly not. Sadly she can't push it off the wall.
Action: Cast Toll the Dead on Kronryn. Gotta beat a DC14 Wis save [roll1](+modifiers) or take [roll2] Necrotic damage.

[RandomWombat]

The tolling of the great black bell rings in Kroryn's ears and he winces, but the dark power does little to quell his life force. The spider along the wall hisses and holds firm against the invisible shove, confused by walking into what seemed like an invisible wall, but otherwise undeterred. The drow officer discards his hand crossbow on the table behind him in the same motion he draws his shortsword to face off against Derendil. The swift motion throws off his aim as he jabs at Derendil, his aim too short.

Squaring up against the towering figure of the quaggoth, Buppido jabs forward with his blade - but the beastman slaps his hand away with a clawed hand and glowers down menacingly. Buppido tries to stomp on a foot instead to distract him, but the quaggoth's long clawed nail takes the brunt of the stomp, its bony structure unharmed. A card from Jimjar's hidden deck flies past the quaggoth and impacts the wall, disappearing as soon as it flashed by in a spark of golden light to appear back in his deck.

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, dealing 2 necrotic damage to Kronryn. Her telekinetic shove on the spider fails.
Shuushar casts Virtue on Bontar, granting him 4 temporary hit points.
Buppido attacks with his shiv and an unarmed offhand strike, both missing.

Kronryn stabs at Derendil, but misses.

Jimjar uses cartomancy at Quaggoth, but misses despite spending Luck.

It is now Borthan's turn.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 12 HP: 23/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan turns the blade aside, cutting his hand in the process. Curling backward, he leapt up from the floor, attempting to kick the drow warrior's blade out of his grasp. The guard managed to deflect Borthan's kick, but the half-elf threw a left handed punch. Left, right, it didn't matter to him. And he wouldn't rest until he got his hands on a second weapon.





Rolling to hit with an unarmed strike. Disarm attempt failed in the Discord. [roll0] to hit and 4 damage if he is successful.

[RandomWombat]

The fist connects, striking the guard in the gut and causing him to momentarily double over. His vicious red eyes glare up at Borthan with murderous intent.


Unable to get onto the bridge, Topsy turns to face the northern front where everyone is duking it out with the hulking quaggoth. The gnome hesitates briefly, waiting for its attention to be on Buppido before she closes in. "Brother. Clear the bridge," she orders, moving past Turvy to leap in for a throat chop at the quaggoth. But the beast steps back out of her reach, and she lands unsuccessfully beside it.

Spores fluttering around in the air settle into the quaggoth's fur and it twitches and snarls, scratching at them. Clumps of hair fall off, revealing the tissue beneath looking sickly. In its rage, the beastman swings his arms out in a sweeping motion to backhand Buppido and Topsy away from him and try and get at the offending mushroom. Buppido swerves out of the way, while Topsy is thrown to the side into the wall and grunts from the impact.

Two more of the hulking beasts emerge from their den, snarling. One steps over the dying drow at Sarith's feet to loom over him, a cruel mockery of a smile gracing its face at the chance to rip apart a former master with full permission. Its claws swipe at him and one finds its mark, digging into his arm through his rags. Topsy's vulnerability is not lost on the other, who scratches her with a claw as she pushes back off of the wall to regain her balance.

"They need help!" the normally shy Turvy shouts, trying to gather everyone's attention as his sister is in danger.

"Getting crowded here," Jimjar comments.

Borthan punches Drow Warrior for 4 damage.
Topsy attacks Quaggoth, but misses. She uses a bonus action to Help Turvy on his next attack roll.

Quaggoth takes 4 necrotic damage from Stool's spores. It attacks Topsy and Buppido, hitting the former for 6 and missing the latter.
Quaggoth slashes at Sarith twice with claws, hitting once for 5.
Quaggoth slashes at Topsy twice, hitting once for 6.

It is Nilvae, Stool, Sarith and Derendil's turns.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

Pain raked his skin. Pain that should have been protected by armour that had been stripped from him. The drow to his side could wait - though they had hit him, the quaggoth was clearly the more major threat at this point. In a single motion he tosses his claimed sword straight up as a distraction before dropping to the ground and snatching away the fallen dagger from the dead drow at his feet. Even through his exhaustion, the fact that he's unburdened by the weight of gear lets him move swiftly, pouncing back up to his feet. He snatches the distraction sword from the air and plunges both of them at the hulking monstrosity in front of him, desperate to put it down before it can claw at him any further. Had it only targeted the derro, perhaps he would have let it be, but it had chosen to make an enemy of him, and that was something he could not abide, even in his broken state.


Object Interaction: Scoop up the dagger on the ground.
Action: Shortsword attack [roll0] Damage [roll1]
Bonus Action: Dagger attack. [roll2] Damage [roll3] Edit: In the unlikely event this did hit, the damage is actually 1, via discord.
If one of the attacks hits, also sneak attack [roll4]
I may reroll one of the damage die using the Piercer feat in discord, will edit if so.
Move: None.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: Faerie Fire

We need to go! The demons will overrun this outpost. Nilvae shouts in surface common. She snaps her fingers, pointing at the drow decidedly in the way of things, then throws another glimmering stone.

Bonus Action: True Strike
Action: [roll0][roll1]
Damage: [roll2]






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP)
Concentration: Entangle

Move away, Topsy. Stool says as the small fellah moves him and this noxious fumes between the wall and the two quaggoths. Big flies over there. he points with his stubby arms.

Sensing Nilvae's panic, he summons his fungal magics to the north. Seconds later, a giant mushroom grows there, binding the chasme with gigantic hyphae, thin brown and strong fibers that connect several fungal colonies together.

Strength Save DC 13 or be restrained (https://www.dndwiki.io/conditions/restrained)

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 18/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Rage (9 rounds)
Concentrating on:

Blood rushing, claws sharp, and mind lost to violence, Derendil continues his assault on Kronyn. The awkwardness of his first strikes is gone, replaced with pure fury and savage skill. This time he tries to claw the drow's face off with a sideways slash. He circles the guard like a predator, eyes fixated on his enemy.





Rolling to hit- [roll0] and damage [roll1]. Moving to the opposite side of Kronyn without risking an AoO.

[RandomWombat]

The stone hurled from Nilvae's hands glimmers, leaving a trail of white light as it curves around Borthan to bean the drow right in the temple. He staggers and falls, landing in a crumpled heap in the web below and clearing the bridge.

At the other end, the quaggoth prisoner circles Kronryn, swiping with one claw and then the next, seeking an opening. Then it comes, as Kronryn brings up his blade to deflect one claw - and a second drags across his side. The armor absorbs most of the injury, but the drow's back is now to the rest of the prisoners. The orc begins making his way across the bridge, stumbling and staggering under the drug-induced hangover he still suffers.

The spider on the outside wall charges across it at Borthan, hissing and baring its fangs. He fends the creature away before it can sink the venom-dripping appendages into him. A bolt of chilly blue energy from behind him leaves a cool breeze hanging around him, as Turvy tries to fire at the drow officer. But with too many allies in the way, his aim is too cautious, and hits only the side of the stalactite.


Meanwhile, Sarith acquires a second blade and slashes at the insolent creature that struck at him. One of the blades makes contact, finding a vulnerable point and inflicting a fierce injury. Soon after, fungal growths erupt from the floor ahead; the quaggoth he faces manages to break itself free, but the drow struggles against it and remains contained, as does the one attacking the gnome.

Stool finds it difficult to find an opening into the chaotic melee, slipping up next to Topsy and Buppido as his magic takes effect.

Nilvae hurls a Magic Stone at Drow Warrior, dealing 5. damage and a KO.
Derendil slashes Kronryn for 11 damage.
Sarith dual strikes Quaggoth for an 11 damage Sneak Attack and a miss.
Stool casts Entangle on the Quaggoth and Drow (and the den behind them). Two Quaggoths pass their saves, while the other and the Drow are Restrained.
(The Chasme are outside the outpost, currently; moved Stool to the closest open square to where he'd moved, since he moved into a wall)

Drow Warrior attempts to break free of Entangle, but fails.
Drow Warrior fails a death save from being on fire.

Ront Dashes.

Giant Spider attempts to bite Borthan, but misses.

Turvy casts Ray of Frost at Kronryn, but misses despite Advantage.

It is Faedry's turn.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

Eighth Day, Escape

She was beginning to feel the rhythm of the fight now. Pop out, strike, retreat. Pop out, strike, retreat. She still wasn't sure if it was working, and in fact it felt like they were being surrounded, but if they could just push through this initial melee they'd be in a far stronger position. She sweeps through, her throat clanging with unmistakable sound of metal against Kronryn once more, the sole drow remaining in the path of the armoury. She hadn't take note if she'd successfully pushed back the spider last time, but regardless it was here and present now, so she pushes against it once more with her mind, trying to buy them time or space or both.


Move: Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
Bonus Action: Telekinetic Shove the nearby spider, it needs to beat a DC14 strength save [roll0] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl. Not sure if that'll toss it away but it'll give Borthan space. Maybe. Hopefully!
Action: Cast Toll the Dead on Kronryn. Gotta beat a DC14 Wis save [roll1](+modifiers) or take [roll2] Necrotic damage.

[RandomWombat]

The ringing of bells in his ears continues to eat away at Kronryn's strength, but the drow's haughtiness is not all bravado - even in the face of the turning tides and beastly claws, he stands strong. The spider's many legs grip the wall fiercely, resisting Faedryl's unseen attempts to knock it loose. "The prisoners are loose!" he shouts, trying to get the attention of the quaggoth on the other side of the waterfall. Whether his words made it through the roaring water is unclear. Taking blade in hand, he delivers another brutal attack to Derendil, who perseveres through wild rage.


Striding up past Jimjar, Shuushar reaches out and lays a webbed hand upon Topsy's back. Burbling healing incantations in Deep Speech bring about a soft glow that mends the claw marks the quaggoth left upon her. She mutters a quiet thanks that he may not have even heard over the clanging metal and snarls.

Buppido senses weakness in the quaggoth Sarith struck, and shifts his stance to plunge his shiv into its exposed side. It opens up like a cask of ale, bleeding upon the ground and staggering from the loss. But its balance is recovered in time to avoid Buppido trying to dig his fingers into the wound and pry it open further. A gleaming red playing card sails past between both of them, sticking into the quaggoth's side. It explodes like a small bomb, leaving yet another brutal wound. The beast looks woozy, struggling not to fall over. But there is a vicious gleam in its eyes, born of brutal spite.

Sarith is aware that quaggoth are especially dangerous when near death. Like a cornered rat, they will respond with vicious force, and have been known to overpower their attacker in the blink of an eye.


As the fighting continues, the demons thankfully take little interest in the mortals clawing at one another. The chasme continue their vicious chase against the fleeing vrock, their buzzing and shrieks moving away and making the bridge safer to cross, without the risk of unconsciousness from a demonic sickness.

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead on Kronryn for 2 damage, but the spider resists her shove.
Shuushar casts Cure Wounds on Topsy, healing her for 6.
Buppido stabs Sarith's Quaggoth for an 18 damage sneak attack, but misses his offhand unarmed strike. It is badly wounded, but still up.

Kronryn hits Derendil for 10 damage, halved to 5 by Rage.

Jimjar uses Cartomancy on Sarith's Quaggoth, dealing an 11 damage Blades suit sneak attack. The Quaggoth will take 2 damage on its next turn.

It is Borthan's turn!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 12 HP: 23/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark: Target- Giant Spider (1 hour)

Bort follows the path of the stone that killed the drow guard and spots Nilvae. He smiles at her, raises his index finger, and pointed at the dead man in congratulations, and perhaps a friendly challenge. Fighting for his life was much more comfortable to Borthan than socializing in the good inn Hellhole they'd been staying at. He suddenly realized he'd been there the longest of them all. He still wouldn't miss it. Then the spider ended his frivolity with a tackle. He raised the stone dagger up just in time to brace himself and shove it back, preventing it from biting him by mere inches. He assumed a low stance, stepping back. And stepping on something. He didn't need to look to know what it was, either. Reaching down, Borthan scoops up the fallen drow's shortsword with his left hand. Then he spun it in his palm to reverse the grip. He felt whole again, with something deadly in each hand. It felt right. All those years of training began to kick in. From Vrek. From Ee'char. And, like he had so many time before today, he fell into a lethal rhythm. He uttered the word Prey! in the language of the grey dwarves. It was a passionate word, if one can be passionate about killing. Borthan's eyes dilated completely, and instinctively he knew where to strike for the best effect. Swinging the shortsword down in a reverse grip with full force, he attempted to stab the creature in the head. He wasn't an expert in spiders like his father's line, so he made his best guess on what constituted the head of the beast with lethal intention.





Item interaction to pick up the shortsword. Bonus action to cast Hunter's mark on the giant spider. Action to stab the spider with the shortsword- [roll0] to hit. [roll1] piercing damage, and [roll2] from mark. EDIT- Rolls in Discord for crit. 1 piercing damage and 3 mark damage. Movement to one square west, making a bit more room and securing the bridge while not threatening a spider bite.

[RandomWombat]

The blade of the shortsword drives deep, missing the spider's face by inches and digging into its body. Slick bug juices spurt out of the deep wound, splattering the weapon and Borthan's arm. The creature hisses in pain.


Among the fighting around the corner, Topsy tries to get within reach to jab and punch at the quaggoth in front of her, but the creature's reach is too much longer than her own. She's fended off handily, unable to get a single lick in.

The quaggoth with death in its eyes looms over Sarith, roaring and raising up with both claws ready to rend into him. Then flesh eating spores from Stool flutter around it in the air, and it makes a groaning whine. They eat away at its wounds, widening them, and it finally falls backwards onto the ground. The one entangled in Stool's fungal growths continues struggling and trying to break free, but it cannot pull itself loose.

The third quaggoth reaches down and grabs onto Stool's body, ripping out the pulsing fungal growths where its spores have taken root to protect it.

Borthan casts Hunter's Mark and stabs Giant Spider for 18 damage.

Topsy makes two unarmed attacks against Quaggoth, but misses.

Quaggoth takes 4 necrotic damage from Stool's spores and 2 from Jimjar's card, taking it down.
Quaggoth attempts to break free of Entangle, but fails.
Quaggoth claws Stool twice for 5 and 7 damage, absorbed by his symbiotic entity. The entity is defeated, ending the effect. Stool must roll DC 10 Concentration to keep Entangle up.

It is Nilvae, Stool, Sarith and Derendil's turns.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions:
Concentrating on: Rage (8 rounds)

The quaggoth reels back after Kronyn's stab, teeth bared as the pain doesn't quite make it's way into Derendil's mind. If anything, it just reinforced the idea that Kronyn must be exterminated with extreme prejudice. He followed Kronyn's eyes when he yelled for support, and the beast threw itself between the drow and any would be assistance. His eyes locked with his tormentor before throwing another uppercut at the chief guard with claws outstretched, ready to catch on any expose flesh and draw blood.





Moving 1 square south to block any attempt by Kronyn to escape. Claw attack- [roll0] to hit and [roll1] damage. [roll2] just in case a crit happens.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

On any other day he might be quite satisfied with how well the quaggoths were holding up. It was what they were there for, after all. Today was not such a day however, and right now Sarith would much rather they all be dead at his feet. At least he has weapons now. He stabs at the hulking beast again, trying to bring his attacker down before it can do the same to him - and rid him of the chance to see Kronryn dead first.


Action: Shortsword attack [roll0] Damage [roll1]
Bonus Action: Dagger attack. [roll2] Damage [roll3]
If one of the attacks hits, also sneak attack [roll4] Edit: Rerolled on discord, actual SA damage is 4 this turn.
I may reroll one of the damage die using the Piercer feat in discord, will edit if so.
Move: None.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: Faerie Fire

Nilvae looses her last magic stone at the Prince Kronryn. Lob his head off, Bort! We play soccer with it. she says.

Bonus Action: True Strike
Action: [roll0] [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: Entangle

Stool emits a strained hum and reassembles the dissapating cloud of spores once again. He pushes another black cloud towards the quaggoth attacking him, the one that tried to stop the titanic orc Ront.

Pacifying Spores onto attacking Quaggoth: DC 13 con save or be stunned

[RandomWombat]

Kronryn's blade flashes to and fro, warding away Derendil's attempts to dig his claws into the elf with frustrating efficacy. "Stupid mongrels! Get over here!" he shouts again towards the waterfall. His hollering is interrupted by a glowing stone that strikes him in the back, causing him to grunt and curse in vulgar elven.

Before Kronryn can regain his composure, the orc moves behind him, punching him in the back of the head. When he spins around to face the new opponent, the orc headbutts him in the face.


The spider on the wall catches Borthan in the arm as he moves to withdraw his weapon for a new strike. The fangs sink in and inject their venom, sending a stinging through his arm like his veins have been lit on fire from the inside out.


Both blades find their mark as Sarith thrusts forwards, piercing the quaggoth's hide. The dagger does not make it much further than a scratch, but his sword cuts clean. A puff of spores from Stool catches the quaggoth with its mouth open as it roars in defiance at Sarith, cutting off its roar into a whimper as the pacifying toxins cause it to wobble on its feet, eyes dilated and distant.

The drow caught in Stool's fungal restraints finally pulls free, raising his weapon in preparation to do battle with Sarith. "How can you stomach fighting with this filth? Couldn't even die with dignity."

"Laven byon seek!" performing a series of runic symbols with his hands, Turvy incants and sends a trio of glowing blue missiles of energy over the heads of those fighting inside the cave. They impact the quaggoth in the chest, beating on him like pummeling fists.

Rolled Stool's Concentration in discord, he passed.
Derendil claws at Kronryn, but misses.
Nilvae hits Kronryn for 8 damage with a magic stone.
Sarith stabs the middle quaggoth twice for 15 damage total.
Stool uses Pacifying Spores, successfully stunning the middle quaggoth. The DC is 11, but it still failed the save.

Drow Warrior dies to the bonfire.
Drow Warrior breaks free of the Entanglement.

Ront flanks Kronryn with Derendil and makes two unarmed attacks, for 10 and 4 damage.

Giant Spider bites Borthan for 4 damage. He must make a DC 11 Con save to halve 12 poison damage.

Turvy casts Magic Missile, dealing 12 force damage to middle Quaggoth.

It is now Faedryl's turn.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

]
https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

Eighth Day, Escape

The death of the drow in the flames had come slowly, probably painfully. She didn't take much pleasure in it. Much. Less than the Faedryl of two decades ago would have taken, at least. Now the only rush she receives from it is the knowledge it is one fewer opponent to deal with, one step closer to escape and freedom. Her actions are a rote repetition of her previous ones, working down Kronryn one spell at a time and trying - repeatedly - to shove the spider away from Bort. Perhaps third time would be the charm.


Move: Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
Bonus Action: Telekinetic Shove the nearby spider, it needs to beat a DC14 strength save [roll0] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl.
Action: Cast Toll the Dead on Kronryn. Gotta beat a DC14 Wis save [roll1](+modifiers) or take [roll2] Necrotic damage.

[RandomWombat]

Though her magic continues to be merely an annoyance to the drow officer, Faedryl's mental shove against the spider proves more effective this time. Its many legs lose their grip on the wall and it flails in a panic, falling through the air onto the webbing below. It may not have been hurt by the fall, but the half-blood has a little more breathing room.

Kronryn's focus seems to have been worn down by her constant magical assault however, as he fumbles his next thrust against Derendil and has to stop to readjust his grip, giving the two behemoths on either side of him another opportunity to bring him down.


Shuushar folds his hands in front of him, where they glow with a soft light, ready to mend any wounds he can reach.

Detecting the weakness in the quaggoth before him, Buppido flashes forwards with his shiv and drives it deep into the creature's chest. As it drops, he is upon it, prying open the wound to leave it agape, wild-eyed and smiling widely as blood spurts out and splatters across his face, staining the white of his beard.

With a skip and a hop, Jimjar sails over the two fallen quaggoth and lands on the other side. He flicks out his leg to kick the drow warrior in the shin, following up with a palm strike that the drow bats aside, finally getting back into a combat stance now that he's free of the fungus.

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, dealing 2 damage to Kronryn.
Faedryl shoves the Giant Spider, causing it to fall off of the wall and onto the web below.
Shuushar readies an action to cast Cure Wounds if Stool or Topsy are injured next to him.
Buppido Sneak Attacks the stunned Quaggoth for 18 damage, then uses an unarmed strike to inflict 2 failed death saves.

Kronryn misses Derendil with a stab.

Jimjar Sneak Attacks Drow Warrior for 12 damage, but misses the followup.

It is now Borthan's turn!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 12 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

The poison burned into Borthan's blood, sending sizzling pain through his body. His mind reeled, and for a second he felt as though he might black out. Then, miraculously, the spider was shoved back, seemingly by nothing at all. Bort looked around for the source, and his eyes fixed on Faedryl as she retreated into the cell. He remembered how Ront had been shoved backward some days ago, and he raised an eyebrow. Useful. Dangerous. Par for the course. With a little space between him and the monster, he decided that now was the perfect time for some payback.

Kronyn! Muttmeat wants to look you in the eyes when you die! Catching the drow's attention, Strong Shadow dashed across the bridge, both blades raised. He leads with the shortsword, swinging it high at the damned guard, across his chest. Rolling to the south, he threw a back hand at his tormentor, stone dagger in hand, and attempts to shive him underneath his armor with a rising strike.





Move action move West to be adjacent to Kronyn. Attack action swing the shortsword at him- [roll0] to hit and [roll1] damage. Take one five foot step south with remaining movement. Bonus action attack with the stone dagger- 7 to hit (rolled in Discord) and [roll2] damage.

[RandomWombat]

Kronryn turns, attention drawn by Borthan's mocking shout. It brings him around in time to parry Borthan's high blow, and he catches Borthan's dull dagger on his heavy boot, kicking it aside. Borthan is able to keep a grip on the dagger, but his blow is deflected. "You perform as expected," the drow sneers, finding time even in his dire situation for petty spite.


Topsy is having as much trouble getting to the next quaggoth unarmed as the other, scowling. "Hey, cheerful gnome. Make yourself useful and give me a hand!"

Borthan attacks Kronryn twice, missing both.
Topsy attacks the last quaggoth, but misses. She spends a bonus action to grant Jimjar Advantage on his next attack.

Dworic and Eldeth have been forgotten by the tides of fate. They may each take two turns now.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1), Rage (1min)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Seeing their jailer surrounded, Dworic moves methodically toward him, akin to a predatory beast catching scent of its prey. He weaves his way around his fellow prisoners and hefts a stool up in both hands, swinging with all his might at the foul drow.

- Round 1
• Move: 25' W to bridge
• Action: Dash: move to position adjacent to Ront.
• Interaction: pick up non-fungal stool
• Bonus: --

- Round 2
• Bonus: Rage
• Move: --
• Action: Dworic Smash stool vs Kronryn
- Attack: [roll0] | [roll1] 16 (used 2 Luck rolls on Discord) (ADV, Reckless Attack, -5 GWM)
- Damage: [roll2] + [roll3] Radiant (+2 Rage, +10 GWM, Divine Fury)

• Rage: Resistance (Bludg., Slash., Pierc.)







https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Seeing the weapons on the fallen, burned drow, Eldeth moves from her cover and snags the crossbow and sword, bringing the familiar weapons to bear against the quaggoth to the north.

- Round 1
• Move: 15' NW to fallen drow
- DEX to grab hand crossbow and shortsword: [roll4]
• Action: Hand crossbow vs Quaggoth S of Jimjar
- [roll5]
- Damage: [roll6]
• Bonus: --

- Round 2
• Move: --
• Action: Hand crossbow vs Quaggoth S of Jimjar
- [roll7]
- Damage: [roll8]
• Bonus: --

[RandomWombat]

It was crowded, up until now. No opening to do anything. And it seems that in that time, Dworic was brewing his rage into a mighty storm waiting to erupt. Striding across the bridge, he plucks the heavy wooden stool from the ground as if it had all the weight of a feather and brings it down across Kronryn's back. The bar brawling move must have caught the drow off guard, because he doesn't see it coming, and it knocks the wind out of him.

Dropped to one knee now, Kronryn grinds his teeth and struggles to try and stand. But before he can, Ront grabs the drow by the hair from behind, snarling with a bitter, satisfied sneer across his face. The orc plants his foot against the drow's back and shoves him to the ground, pressing his weight down until Dworic and Derendil can hear rib bones cracking. The drow's hair breaks and comes loose in the orc's oversized hand before the drow's neck can break, slamming Kronryn's face painfully down into the stone where he lay still.

The orc's eyes settle on Dworic and he makes a small, reluctant nod of recognition. "Mighty warrior," the orc states in heavily accented northern Common, pounding a fist into his chest in a salute of respect.


So quickly she barely even feels the heat, Eldeth snatches the crossbow and shortsword away from the fire. The string, it seems, is more durable than mere sinew or fabric. Likely metal, and thankfully not burnt. The finish on the wood has melted and charred in places, but what the weapon lacks in beauty it makes up for in function. Two bolts slam home into the quaggoth, who stumbles and droops against the wall, before sliding down onto his rear. The bolts are poisoned, it would seem. Eldeth counts 3 more of them remaining in a small quick-holster on the side of the weapon. The drow has more bolts in a quiver on his back, but whether they too are poisoned she does not know.

Before she can reload again, there is a hiss from behind her. Eldeth whips around in time to swerve and evade the fangs of a giant spider, lunging at her after crawling up from below the bridge and into the tunnels. The deep gnome next to her spazzes out at the proximity of the creature, reaching out and waving the spider away with a crackling hand that fails to make contact, but certainly draws the beast's attention.

Dworic smashes Kronryn with a stool, dealing a whopping 24 damage.
Eldeth successfully grabs a hand crossbow and shortsword from the bonfire without burning her hands.
Eldeth shoots Quaggoth twice for 10 damage total. The first shot knocks the quaggoth unconscious with drow poison. The second shot is at disadvantage from prone, but I rolled in discord and she still hit. The quaggoth passes its save not to remain unconscious after the second hit, but is still Prone for the moment.

Ront hits Kronryn with an unarmed strike for 9 damage, KOing him. Then uses his offhand attack to deliver 2 failed death saves, putting the drow on the edge.

Giant Spider attacks Eldeth, but misses.

Turvy casts Shocking Grasp on Giant Spider, but misses.

It is now Faedryl's turn.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

Eighth Day, Escape

With the joining of the dwarves to battle, things seemed to be swinging even harder in their favour, and for a moment Faedryl starts considering the question of what comes after this. Hopefully her spellbook, some armour, and most importantly food and drink aplenty. She steps out of the cell once again only to see the spider she thought she'd given the group time against has reappeared already. Far faster than expected. No matter. At the speed of thought the flames still licking around the drow dissipate as she chants the incantation to create them a second time. They spring up around the many-legged fiend, aiming to incinerate it. Not content to leave it looming over the dwarf (Faedryl's new meatshield) she attempts to force it back, putting the flames between it and them.


Move: Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
Action: Recast Create Bonfire on the spider next to Eldeth. Needs to make a DC14 dex save [roll0]+modifier or take [roll1] fire damage.
Bonus Action: Telekinetic Shove the nearby spider, it needs to beat a DC14 strength save [roll2] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' out of the fire onto the bridge, putting the flames between it and Eldeth (if the shove works of course). If it moves back into the fire it needs to save vs. damage again, and if it ends its turn there it needs to make save vs damage again, so potential triple dip!

[RandomWombat]

The spider rears back on its four back legs, reacting with instinctive speed to the fire erupting from beneath it. That same position that allows it to avoid a burn, however, leaves it unsteady. Faedryl's telekinetic shove knocks it back onto the bridge, where it scrambles back to a standing position and looks confused and warded away by the flame that had apparently shoved it.


With the quaggoth stirring from its all too brief absence from consciousness, Shuushar lays a webbed hand upon Topsy's shoulder. The gnome instinctively pulls away and makes a small grunt of annoyance, but not before a soft barrier glows just over her skin.

Buppido steps onto the hump of the fallen quaggoth's back and swings down with his shiv to sink it into the flesh of the last beastman. His fingers brutally claw into the new hole to pry it open, causing the quaggoth to yowl with more pain than real damage.

A fist from Jimjar finds its way into the last drow's kidney, and he doubles over on the ground. In one swift motion Jimjar whips the dagger from the drow's belt and delivers a short, shallow cut to the quaggoth's arm. He flinches a little seeing the brutal damage Buppido is inflicting with a cool smile.

Faedryl casts Create Bonfire on Giant Spider, but it just passes its Dex save (+3 mod).
Faedryl's shove is more successful, pushing the spider back onto the bridge.
Shuushar casts Virtue on Topsy, granting her 7 temporary hp.
Buppido stabs the prone Quaggoth for 13 damage, and uses an unarmed offhand strike for 1 damage.

Kronryn passes a death save.

Jimjar critically strikes Drow Warrior with an unarmed strike for 8 damage and a KO. Jimjar picks up the drow's dagger and attacks the quaggoth for a 3 damage sneak attack.

It is now Borthan's turn.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 12 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan doesn't hesitate, but neither does he linger. Leaning down, he attempts to draw his shortsword across Kronyn's neck to end the drow's life. Killing, when it came down to it, was business after all. Taking a step to the north he used an underhanded throw to pitch the stone dagger at the giant spider, hoping to take it out of the fight, before swiftly looking for a replacement dagger and sheath from Kronyn's body, taking one if he finds it. While he definitely wanted... no, NEEDED... to have a weapon in each hand, he didn't want to piss off any of his cell mates by monopolizing the best weapons. Then, without further ado, he starts to climb the ladder up towards the armory, where there should be plenty of weapons for everyone.





Attack action try to slit Kronyn's throat with advantage. [roll0] or [roll1] to hit, whichever is higher. I don't think damage matters, but just in case [roll2]. Then take a step north and throw the stone dagger at the spider with a bonus action. [roll3] to hit and [roll4] damage. Object interaction to take a dagger (and sheath, if possible) from Kronyn, then the rest of my move up the ladder (I think it's within range) and head for the goodies.

[RandomWombat]

The stone dagger impacts the spider in the back, lodging into its chitinous body. The creature spins around and hisses at the newly announced threat, but Borthan has already relieved Kronryn of life and weapon and ascended the ladder with due haste, reaching as far as the trapdoor above.


Emboldened by the vigor of Shuushar's orison, Topsy leaps up and kicks off of the cave wall with her foot, diving onto the Quaggoth and delivering a flying kick to its throat. The creature chokes and gasps for air before passing out, and Topsy keeps her foot firmly pressed down, starving it for air even if her weight is not enough to completely break its windpipe. At last, the creature's breathing stops altogether and it goes still. Only then does she remove her boot and sigh in relief, turning to face the path to freedom.

But then, suddenly, a feral shout causes her to jump. One of the quaggoth has roused from its unconsciousness and surged upwards, landing atop Buppido. It lays into the derro with its claws, savaging him across the face and chest.

Borthan executes Kronryn, then tosses a dagger at Giant Spider for 4 damage. He finds another dagger on Kronryn. His Use Item action taking the dagger prevents him from opening the trapdoor, but he makes it up the ladder to the space next to it.
Topsy critically hits Quaggoth with an unarmed strike Sneak Attack for 19 damage for a KO, and strikes with her offhand for 2 failed death saves.

Two Quaggoths fail death saves and perish.
One Quaggoth critically succeeds a death save and lunges back up from Prone to attack Buppido for 22 damage total, KOing him.

Nilvae, Stool, Sarith and Derendil are up.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

Loss was no stranger to Sarith, especially not now, and he can't say he particularly feels anything positive or negative when Buppido falls to the ground. Such was life. Such was death. Still, the quaggoth may turn on him next, and he still had a few things he wished to do. He had to see Kronryn die, for instance. Though he can - and would - do nothing for the derro himself, Sarith does still launch attacks into the attacking beast's back, looking to put it down once and for all.


Action: Shortsword attack [roll0] Damage [roll1]
Bonus Action: Dagger attack. [roll2] Damage [roll3]
If one of the attacks hits, also sneak attack [roll4]
I may reroll one of the damage die using the Piercer feat in discord, will edit if so.
Move: None.

[Spore]

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/1f/70/131f7098ab83b18698e3922df4ec951f.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: Faerie Fire

The half-elf looks around for more stones, but sees her companions struggle without weapons. Bort has made it obvious the weapons are up there. A silvery wind catches her swiftly, and suddenly she is landing in the armory, looking for weapons to throw down.

Coulda thought about that sooner, Bort. she admonishes the half-elf for her own lack of creativity.

Bonus Action Misty Step to land in the armory. If unable she teleports onto the ladder at the highest possible point, climbs up and searches the area.






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: Entangle

Friend heal? resounds in Buppido's mind as Stool thrusts the thin root-like protrusions he uses as arms right down Buppido's throat to cast a spell. The small myconid exhales loudly, and infuses the devolved dwarf with a greyish-white liquid; Likely another strain of spores.

a bit of a metal way to Cure Wounds upcast to Lv 2 [roll0]

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions:
Concentrating on: Rage (7 Rounds)

Derendil watches the half-elf execute his enemy, and a shiver of animalistic pleasure tingles us his spine- the feeling of knowing your enemy is conquered, and you have outlasted them. But the fight is not over. The quaggoth sniffs the air, scenting great amounts of blood back in the direction of the cell. Go! Go you infernal beast! Allies could be dying back there! The prince frantically tried to seize control of his own body, but the bloodlust of the savage was still upon him. But there was no need to worry- while the elf wanted to go back to aid allies, the quaggoth wanted to go back to spill more blood. Charging back across the bridge and picking up speed, Derendil launched himself at the giant spider with a roar of challenge, bringing down his sharp claws in a strike meant to rip and tear the arachnid open.





Moving back to the bridge. To hit on the spider- [roll0] and [roll1] damage. [roll2] in case of a crit.

[RandomWombat]

In a single step, Nilvae crosses the gap of the bridge, appearing next to Ront and Dworic as if from thin air. She slips past the two muscled brutes to clamber up the ladder behind Borthan, but the two of them soon find themselves a little tangled up as she tries to slip past to reach the trapdoor.

Barreling past them, Derendil leaps upon the spider with deadly claws, pinning it to the wood of the bridge through its segmented body. The creature twitches a little, but the fight seems to have left it.


Spluttering on the fungal mixture forced down his throat, Buppido launches up from his sitting position, coughing Stool's protrusions out of his mouth and glaring up at the quaggoth. Buppido reaches for his shiv, tutting his tongue at the menacing monster. "You are going to-" his words are cut off as Sarith drives his weapons into the quaggoth's back and it topples once more. "Nevermind. Best finish the job this time..." he murmurs softly to himself.

With the fighting over, Buppido scoops his shiv off of the ground and sets to slitting throats of those still breathing, before they get up once again.

Shuushar looks away from the grim task, stepping towards those gathered at the bridge. "Perhabls we could block some of blem up?" he suggests to Eldeth and Turvy, motioning a webbed hand at the cell door.

"Uh," Turvy stammers a little, put on the spot. "Somebody else's call put out the fire please."


Finishing their ascendance up the ladder, Borthan and Nilvae enter the armory. It is a small circular room which contains a ring of wooden chests. They are unlocked and looted easily, yielding their contents.

Each of the 3 (accessible) drow warriors has on them:
-1 Shortsword
-1 Dagger
-1 Hand Crossbow
-15 crossbow bolts
-5 crossbow bolts coated in Drow Poison
-1 Chain Shirt

Borthan has a weapon that the drow warrior who fell in the web had on him, but the rest of his equipment is down with him.

Kronryn has:
-1 Shortsword
-1 Dagger
-1 Hand Crossbow
-15 crossbow bolts
-5 crossbow bolts coated in Drow Poison
-1 suit of Studded Leather armor
-1 Shield

(Some of the above has already been taken)

They have 38 gp, 20 sp in pocket change on them altogether.

With a container, such as some mugs the drow were drinking from in their guard post, venom could be extracted from the giant spider. It would retain its potency only for a short while (until next long rest) unless put in a properly sealed and stoppered container.

Succeeding the check produces 2 doses of Giant Spider venom. Exceeding the check by 5 or more produces 4 doses of venom.

The armory contains:
-6 Chain Shirts
-6 suits of Studded Leather Armor
-6 Shields
-6 Hand Crossbows
-20 cases of crossbow bolts, containing 20 bolts each
-6 Shortswords
-10 Daggers
-6 bags of Caltrops
-4 100-foot long coils of silk rope
-2 carpentry hammers (clubs if used as a weapon)
-2 bags of pitons, with 10 pitons in each bag

Nilvae teleports past the spider and fire into the stalactite, climbing up the ladder behind Borthan. Unfortunately, he is blocking the way up.
Stool heals Buppido for 11 hit points.
Sarith strikes Quaggoth for an 11 damage sneak attack that KOs, his offhand attack instead dealing an automatic crit for 2 failed death saves.
Derendil rips and tears the Giant Spider for 10 damage, which KOs it.

All enemies are down. Combat has ended, for the moment, and the party has free reign of the immediate area to put down their enemies as needed. Initiative order will be saved for when it continues.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan grins as he and Nilvae get into the armory. Without further ado, he sets about looting the chests and piling their contents, putting like with like, until all the chests are empty. Sliding down the ladder, he speaks at a moderate volume so those close by can hear. Crazy Borthan's murder emporium is open for business! We've got weapons, armor, and some useful crap too. Spread the word to the others, but do it quietly. We don't want the rest of the drow to come down on us while we're suiting up.That done, Borthan turns to climb back up, but he stops, looking at Kronyn's corpse. He leans down and relieves the deceased of another dagger and a fancy looking shortsword. He didn't linger to debate who deserved the trophies, instead climbing back into the armory. There he retrieved one bundle of rope (you can never have enough, in his experience) and one of the chain shirts for himself. Holding the armor in his hands, Borthan looks over at Nilvae and smiles even wider. Always wanted one of these, but my boss said it was too expensive for a mere slave. Guess he never thought I'd get some for free. He sets about putting the chain shirt on, getting used to the range of motion, and watching as the others come claim their bounty. If there was anything left he might go back for seconds.






https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:

Derendil stands, withdrawing his claws from the body of the arachnid. He looks around, sniffs the air, and looks for the next target. But none presents itself. The only ones remaining standing were the prisoners from the cell he was destined for. With a massive exhale of breath, his body relaxes, and in a rush of exhaustion the prince's mind reasserted control over his body. The beast, for now, was satiated. Trembling slightly, Derendil looked over the carnage, the executions, and the blood that stained his fur, feeling himself gag. He needed a bath. He needed his spellbook. But more than anything, he needed to follow the half-blood's advice and prepare himself for the next fight. Reaching down to the studded leather armor of the jailor, he used his claws to rip off a small piece of the armor. Incanting in elvish, he felt the invisible force field of his mage armor spell clutch tight to his skin, and on top of that a slightly shimmering ward formed around the quaggoth. Immediately he felt reassured- they could do this. They could escape. Lifting the jailor's shield, he strapped it to his arm. It was unfamiliar compared to his own, even more so in this cumbersome form, but it would serve. He cleared his throat and addressed those underneath the armory in his approximation of undercommon. I am equipped enough with these claws and this shield. I will stand guard while you all prepare.





Both character's sheets have been updated to reflect what they ACTUALLY are carrying. Starter gear has been saved in notepad.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --
Eighth Day, Escape

Faedryl sighs with quiet relief as the fight ends. Their first of many, no doubt, this was just the prelude, the opening salvo, but they'd done well, she thinks, as she counts up the dead. None of theirs, and 8 of the outpost. Roughly one third of their fighting strength depleted, assuming she also counts Duskryn, who seemed to still be sat on his own in the corner. They hadn't fought the priestess, so his vengeance had yet to be exacted. Probably for the best, it kept him off their back for the moment.

She can dispel her flames at the speed of thought with no motion required other than simply letting the spell drop, but nevertheless she adds the flair of a fingersnap, allowing them to die down in an instant. She can finally step free of the 'safety' of the cell, immediately heading to the armoury in search of her equipment, and anything else useful they might have. There's clear disappointment that her spellbook and component pouch are nowhere to be found, leaving her still half-hobbled with regards to spellcasting, but she feels a lot safer with a shield strapped to her arm and the new chain shirt covering her. "That was good work." She says to those grabbing gear, clear awkwardness in her tone over praising others - she's forcing herself to do it, because that's what she expects someone in this situation would say, and she's still trying to make the 'fight together' part work. "We still have more to go, but things are looking well."






https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eighth Day, Escape

Sarith sighs with exerted relief as the fight dies down, giving his arms a chance to rest, leaving the executions after the fight to the rest. He sits for a moment, panting softly, before realising that he has yet to see Kronryn among the living or dead. So caught up in the exchange of blows was he that he'd neglected to seek out the fool. He springs to his feet, urgency buoying him on legs that bring him face to face with the corpse of his would-be torturer and failed captor. Sarith grits his teeth, a flush of anger rushing from his belly with a fire that he didn't know was still inside of him. The blood pooling told him that he was truly dead, not merely unconscious. He'd missed it. He'd missed again. Another loss. Anger loosened he lashes out at the body, kicking it, punching it, brutalising the already dead man, just as Faedryl slides down the ladder in her stolen armour. She regards him coolly, saying nothing, but he can feel her judging gaze on his back. Was it approval? Mockery? Did it even matter? It did, he realises, and his assault slows to a stop. Emotional and physical weariness both bring it to an end.

He strips Kronryn of gear entirely, leaving him in nothing but his smallclothes, before dragging the body to the wooden bridge and tossing him from it. Let the spiders feast, let the ooze devour. Let Kronryn vanish from this world. A world he still remained in. Outlasted. Outlived. Sarith had nothing but his life. Kronryn now had even less. The thought brings a smile to his face as he passes Faedryl by to gather equipment of his own.

"Ilvara will send people to check us soon," Sarith offers to the others once he has claimed gear of his own. He's still missing his bow, but the crossbow would work in the meantime. "We could lay in wait for an ambush, or try to rush them before they're prepared." They had enough gear and people that they could probably succeed, though they had to be worried about being blocked off from the rest of the outpost. If the drow took down the bridges, they'd only have one way out - down.






Faedryl:
1x Shield
1x Chain shirt
2x Dagger

Sarith, including the combat-looted items:
1x studded leather
1x Shortsword
1x Dagger
1x Hand crossbow
10 x poison bolts
60 x normal bolts

Updated on sheets

[RandomWombat]

Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Ront forces his tired body forwards and climbs up the ladder to browse Borthan's 'emporium' himself. Plucking a chain shirt from the floor, he holds it up to his body. It is sized much to small for him, his bulging arms and broad shoulders dwarfing the sleek elven armor. With a grunt, he tosses it aside to someone else and picks up a set of studded leather. It, at least, has straps that he can adjust. After looking at the piddly pig-stickers the drow have to offer, he straps a shield to his arm and picks up a hand crossbow, hanging it off of a quiver of a few bolts - just in case. Then he slides down the ladder to stand near the bridge forward.

The orc stares at Derendil, gnawing at his lip. He doesn't seem to understand much, if at all, of what is being said. Turning to Dworic, he asks in rough surface Common, "Kill them all?"


As the flames subside, Turvy scuttles over the dying spider and over the bridge, joining Faedryl as she goes up to get equipped. His sister is not far behind him, the two gnomes sift through the options. Faedryl can well recognize the disappointment on the male gnomes' face when he finds no spellbook, for it mirrors her own. "I think I'll just stick with my spells," he tells his sister, but she picks up a dagger and shoves it into his hands. "Don't be daft. If we run into faerzress you'll be vulnerable." "a," is all he says, awkwardly holding the weapon and finding somewhere to attach the sheathe. His sister plucks a few lightweight daggers out for herself and twirls them, using one of the dead drows' belts as a makeshift bandolier. "Besides, knives are useful for all kinds of things. Never leave home without a knife."


Picking up a hand crossbow and some ammunition from the drow near the quaggoth den, Jimjar steps away and leans against the wall near their cell, keeping out of the crowd around the guard station and armory. He flashes a pearly white smile at Eldeth, idly flipping a gold coin between his fingers in a display of legerdemain, but otherwise leaving the group to settle their own accounts.


No one seems keen on stopping Buppido's smooth and methodical slicing of every still-breathing throat that had opposed them, so Shuushar quietly walks to the armory, not be begrudging this victory over their captors. Sliding on a chain shirt that's slightly too large for his short and thin frame, he also picks up a shield. The kuo-toa shows no interest in arming with a weapon as he descends to stand near Derendil. A webbed finger softly taps the quaggoth's side, and he asks in a burbling voice, "Would you allow me blo mend your wounds?"


At last, Buppido squats among the messy business to the north. The derro moves at his own pace, slowly and carefully carving open the chest of one of the dead drow to pry open the ribs by force. In bloodstained hands he takes up the heart of his enemy, standing up and leaning his head back with eyes closed. With his stone shiv he tears a hole within the muscular organ and lets the blood wash over his hand, then begins drawing his fingers across his face, perhaps the one place on him not yet totally drenched in blood. It leaves smears across his cheeks like warpaint, and lastly he takes a deep bite of the organ in his hand.

"Drink deep the strength of the fallen, and you have no need for armor." His soft-spoken words are heard only by Stool, the one nearest him, but it's unclear if they are to the myconid or to himself. Buppido offers his healer only a serene smile before dropping the bitten heart behind him and walking back to the group. There is no attempt to armor up, and he seems perfectly satisfied with the cutting tool in his hand. Taking a seat at the guards' table, Buppido takes a sip of their mug of water.

Ront:
1 Studded Leather
1 Shield
1 Hand Crossbow
10 bolts (normal)

Turvy:
1 Dagger

Topsy:
1 Studded Leather
4 Daggers

Jimjar:
1 Hand Crossbow
5 bolts (poisoned)
20 bolts (normal)

Shuushar:
1 Chain Shirt
1 Shield

Buppido:
The blood of his enemies
Nothing

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn)
Concentration: -

Nilvae was joyed to find some armor even though the practical if elegant drow style was not her first choice. Not enough flower motifs, and certainly too little flourishes. She also took a dagger, a shortsword and a handcrossbow. She raises her hand and moves it in front of her face, revealing Kronryn's visage to Borthan. This could prove useful. After some consideration, she changes the glamor a bit to include a hood. When a random drow guard is better suited, I can switch. she says, switching from the faces of three different drow, each less distinguishable than the last, but all male.

Nilvae looked around with Borthan who was so happy to finally find tools to murder people. The woman found that a bit weird. Now that they were free, her second thought was about her pets. Mr Spide and Muttley must be here somewhere! I will not leave without them. she says with the deep baritone of a typical drow but her typical easily excitable manner.






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Friend healthy? Stool happy! it appears in Buppido's mind. Stool shimmies about, looking for a suitably large pot lid or other shield. He takes a hammer suitable for his enchantments. The small fungus fiddles with the head, removing the metal piece from it, wielding just the stick. Happy with his improvement, he stashes the small stick into his side, where it sticks between his body and hyphae. He was just an amalgamation of spores after all.

Waddling over to Nilvae, he claims. Cannot be Prince, elf. Cannot be if real prince is here. Want to dispose of body. he messages all, in the happiest and most cheerful sound one can imagine. The tiny shroom tries to push Kronryn off the cliff, but struggles to even push the slender elf a few inches. Sadly he addsCannot push, and cannot eat such healthy meat, not this much and not so fast.

I'm gonna fluff Stool's inventory as quasi hammer space where he just stuff items into himself.

Claimed items.
Studded Leather (drow)
Shortsword
dagger
Hand Crossbow
10 Bolts, 1 poisoned
2 bags of caltrops

1 hammer without its head

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Eighth Day, Escape

She doesn't know what a "Mr Spide" or "Muttley" are (were, potentially) but Faedryl sees no reason to entertain the idea of leaving before the work here was done. Stolen arms and armour would take them only a short distance, they needed traveling supplies - supplies that were in the outpost proper, and as much of a lead on any pursuers as they could get. Easier to be rid of pursuers if you'd already killed them all. "We're going to take the outpost," Faedryl replies to Nilvae-Kronryn, her voice self-assured. Any adrenaline from the battle has worn thin with the gear collection. She nods in Ront's direction, echoing his words. "Kill them all."

She wonders, idly, if any of the guards surrendered - if Duskryn surrendered - if she'd let them live. The likelihood of a surrender was slim to none, but would she take mercy? Could she even give it? The rest of the prisoners probably wouldn't, so perhaps it didn't matter, and worrying about hypotheticals seemed a waste of time right now.






https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eighth Day, Escape

Sarith watches the myconid with barely concealed distrust. Words and words it said, childlike and 'innocent', but beneath them Sarith is sure he can feel the undercurrent of a malevolent intelligence. Myconids were alien in nature. A person he could understand, they had desires and wants and hatreds, but myconids were far removed from anything drow or other, lesser, races wanted, and that made them dangerous. Untrustworthy. He pushes it away though, it was still his only link to his madness, for now. If the myconid provokes distrust, then the derro provokes disgust. It seemed almost beastial in its consumption of the innards. Revolting.

[RandomWombat]

In the quaggoth den, among the bones of their meals, Stool finds some digging equipment still sitting around - including a hammer suitable to its stick-related needs.

After all equipment has been gathered and claimed, the gnome twins sit above in the trapdoor so as to make more room in the cramped space of the guard post below. "That's a smart idea, stealing the drow's face with an illusion," Topsy compliments, when she sees Nilvae's plan coming together. "With the waterfall to muffle sound they must not know we're free yet. Otherwise the quaggoth guards would have come running."

"Why not send a new guard shift in," Buppido suggests calmly while he takes another sip of water.

The unconscious spiders below on the web, previously incapacitated by the buzzing of the demons, are starting to twitch and come to.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

As the first to start armoring himself, Borthan is the first to be done. Feeling the pains of his wounds, he still felt much better clad in iron and wielding the same. He snagged a few more daggers from the dead drow in case he was relegated to backline duty by further wounds. Descending the ladder, he was disgusted (but not shocked) to see the derro reveling in blood and gore. He was relieved, in a small way. He'd almost begun to buy that meticulous grooming and polite language. This just confirmed what he already knew- that creature was trouble. Taking a moment to make final sure his weapons were strapped and ready, he gave Buppido a lingering look of acknowledgement before turning to see the myconid budling trying to push Kronyn's corpse over the edge of the cliff. Smiling, he walked over. When Nilvae began making faces at him, he grinned. We'll get your damn pets back. And I can pull the same trick, if you need another guard. One of my many talents. But I can't do it often. Do you need another friendly face to pull this off? Then he scooted down on one knee, and added his muscle to the efforts of the mushroom. He had to admit he looked adorable in the makeshift armor wielding the haft of a hammer. But after seeing the way his spores ate away at the quaggoth, he knew better than to underestimate.Lemme help little guy. Here's hoping that if those other spiders come to, they'll enjoy our special friend here long enough for us to be long gone. He didn't revel in his kills like the insane derro, but it did feel good to push Kronyn's corpse off a cliff. When Faedryl declared her intent for the outpost, Borthan shrugged. Fine with me, but if this all goes to hell we make a run for the lift. And some of you strong guys, help carry more of this rope. If they're smart they'll cut the lift before we can take it, and if that happens there's only one way down.






https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:

Derendil cringed away from the display of the derro, closing his eyes and snarling under his breath. Such savagery was... well unbecoming to say the least and absolutely disgusting at worst. Then he remembered the blood that was rapidly drying into his fur and his revulsion only grew. To think that he could be reduced to this. Murdering, even if it was the hated dark elves, was never his preference. But there was no way he was going to get back to his lands and his father's throne without utilizing every tool at hand. And if that meant he had to claw his way back to the surface, so be it. Thankfully he still had his spells prepared, and his most important one required no components to use. He waited, watching anxiously, as the motely crew of prisoners began to unite towards a single purpose again.

[Spore]

[QUOTE=Spore;24954874]
https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

The half-elf narrows her eyes as she tries to listen. A familiar chitter is heard. She thinks it to be Mr Spide, and incants another fey arcanum, easily understood to be a simple spell to communicate with animals. Nilvae chitters back into the crowd. You hear a clicking of mandibles where there are none. If the previous cheerful drow male was disconcerting, the drow male chittering to his pet spiders was just plain weird.

She then turns to Borthan and shrugs. We could pose as the only survivors of the demon onslaught. I have a way of convincing people, if you help me.

You down there. There are monsters about, vanish or be eaten! But before you go, can you point me to the direction of some odd spider? It is one that transforms into an ugly surface horse. Like Rothe, but stronger and less meat. I will take it with me, so your masters focus their prices and treats on you again.

Diplomacy [roll0]






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Seeing the heart offered to eat, Stool immediately understood. Eat stuff, become stronger is also myconid way. The creature exudes a cloud of blue vapor, that sets itself onto the heart and immediately starts to dissolve the meat. In a matter of seconds, it smells like rotten flesh, and Stool devours the thing whole, with only strings of rotten meat and coagulated blood hanging from its "mouth".

Stool then notes the eyes Sarith gives him and waddles over. This one does not trust Stool. Why? We are friend. the amalgation of hyphae, spores says as it closes in with a poop bucket on its head, reeking off all kinds of things. It was pretty adorable still even if its cute charm was muffled in refuse and gore. Not waiting for the answer, Stool exudes a cloud of familiar spores, to be inhaled by everyone, willing or no.

Stool reverberates in everyone's thoughts. Maybe we talk with mind? Concentrate on person you want to hear, and it hears it in its mind. We are linked by the song of Psilofyr. Indeed, you all can suddenly hear a small hum. One on a level that would are certain you were unable to hear before. It is however not clear, but instead sounds like it is drowning in a sea of mud. Is song of wilds, of Underdark. But is muffled. Maybe big flies ruin it.

[RandomWombat]

When Borthan descends again, Shuushar takes note that he, too, is rather badly injured. But before the kuo-toa can begin healing either Borthan or Derendil, the spiders begin to stir. Nilvae attempts to communicate, the indecipherable chittering clicking and clacking under the sound of the waterfall nearby.

"Such pity, the servants have perished," one of the spiders bemoans, near the fallen corpse of Kronryn. "Sisters! My sisters, there are intruders!" her voice is high pitched and shrill to Nilvae's ear.

"Who speaks in the tongue of Lolth now, among dead servants, sister?" the second spider calls back after Nilvae calls out to them.

"Slaves freed, walking unchained. I see them sister," the first spider answers, looking up at the bridge from which Kronryn was dropped.

The spiders begin moving towards the stalactite and cave walls, to climb up and confront the escapees.

As Nilvae is the one that can understand the spiders' aggression, Initiative begins on her turn count - after her, Derendil, Sarith, and Stool can also act. Since there are no (present/aware) enemies right now between them, Dworic and Eldeth can also act in this block.

Since about 10 minutes passed between the initial combat and the continuation, Dworic and Eldeth can still equip themselves as they please in the past, before combat started again.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

Looking down the chasm, the half-elf-turned-drow points down, and with magical reverberation marks another set of stones with lime green light. LIME IS EVIL! THESE SPIDERS ARE SERVANTS OF LOLTH! she shrieks in a tone wholly unnatural for a male drow prince and throws a rock.

Magic Stone onto the closer spider for 21 to hit and 4 blunt damage.






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Stool also reacts by sending out a small stream of spores, eating away at the closer spider's orifices.

Chill Touch for 24 to hit and 2 necrotic damage

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

It seemed to Sarith like they'd just deliberately attracted the attention of the spiders for no good reason, which seemed at odds with the prisoner's stated plans of escape - why invite further conflict when they were already wearied and injured? Still, what was done was done, and though spiders were Lolth's children he saw no reason to feed himself to them. Languidly, lazily, he points his newly acquired crossbow at one and looses a bolt towards the arachnid assailant.


Action: Hand Crossbow (normal bolt) [roll0] Damage: [roll1]
Bonus Action: Second Wind because I forgot to do it earlier [roll2] heal. New HP: 19/23
Probably no sneak attack.
Move: Doesn't look like any movement is needed on the map.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Dworic takes a moment to steady himself once the last of the drow falls. He nods at Ront in thanks for his earlier compliment but says nothing, his silent rage subsiding as his calloused fingers feel the heft of his improvised weapon. He follows the others up the ladder and takes quick stock of the items, picking up a few supplemental weapons for close quarters and a coil of rope alongside other abseiling equipment.

He watches the discussion unfolding before him and shrugs as Ront asks him a question, replying in Common "This one is with us," he motions towards Derendil. "I'm sure there will be others to fight soon."

Of course, as soon as he finishes speaking he hears the strange chittering sounds from the transformed half-elf-drow and the now all-too familiar sounds of spiders moving in. He grunts and moves south, hefting his club in a challenge to the approaching arachnid.


• Move: blocking the entrance
• Action: Ready Attack vs Spider if it moves within range
- Attack: [roll0]
- Damage [roll1]
• Bonus: --

- Shortsword
- Dagger x2
- 100' Rope
- Hammer, bag of pitons






https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 15 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Combat over, Eldeth moves quickly to the Armory to equip herself, unconsciously seeking the company of the only other dwarf around. She pulls on a chain shirt and slings bolt cases around her now threadbare belt. "Rope is useful, and pitons," she says to no one in particular, her scout training kicking in.

She opens her mouth to weigh in on their next move but quickly shuts it as Nilvae and some of the others move into action yet again. With a determined click of her tongue, she moves forward and levels one of her new hand crossbows at a spider and lets loose a bolt.

• Move: position on roll20
• Action: Hand crossbow vs W Spoder
- Attack: [roll2]
- Damage: [roll3]
• Bonus: --

- Shortsword
- Dagger x2
- 100' Rope
- Hammer, bag of pitons
- Hand crossbow x2
- 5 cases of bolts
- 4 poisoned bolts (the rest available if I'm counting it correctly)
- Chain Shirt
- 2x caltrop bags

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:

Derendil jerks when he realizes combat is upon them again, quickly moving up beside the stout dwarf on the bridge. He never thought he would fight side by side with a dwarf, but if you asked him he would have told you it was infinitely more probable that standing with a drow. Raising his shield, he began to speak to the Lolth touched beast in elvish. Pardon me, arachnid filth, but would you stay there for a moment? You see, I've forgotten to bring my boots to this fight, and I fear I'll have nothing to wear while I stomp you into goo and mashed exoskeleton. Preparing for a response, he attempts to taunt the spider into charging him, giving the dwarf an opening to skewer the creature.





Move onto the bridge. Dodge action. Free action to talk smack at the buggies.

[RandomWombat]

The stone strikes exoskeleton with a cracking noise, and the spider hisses a stream of indignities at Nilvae.

"Sickening creature! As worthless as the male face you wear! Unworthy to feel Lolth's name upon your wriggling worm tongue!"

Stool's spores settle into the wound, causing it to wrinkle up and crack further as decay takes root. It makes a perfect spot for Sarith to land a bolt. The length of wood spears into arachnid flesh, and the creature begins to crawl up with vengeance in mind - not at Sarith, but at the false drow speaking the goddess' name in vain. Climbing the wall up the side of the chamber, the creature stabs and swipes its fangs at Nilvae. The warlock is just able to duck back in time, keeping her balance and avoiding backstepping off of the bridge.


On the other side of the downward hanging guard 'tower', Eldeth and the orc Ront use their crossbows to unleash their own volley upon the spider below them. The orc seems familiar with the weapon at least, holding it steady in a single hand and loosing a pinpoint shot in spite of the tired rings below his eyes. He steps back inside to begin the process of reloading.

As the creature climbs up the wall of the stalactite, Dworic brings down his club to meet it, crunching against the arachnid's eight-eyed face. The spiteful creature answers with fangs sinking into his leg. The flesh around the bite rapidly becomes discolored by a flood of deadly venom.


Inside of the reverse spire, Turvy climbs down the ladder and takes stock of what's going on. Through the opening that leads to their former cell he can see the spider clearly on the wall, and raises his hand with an icy glow. "Frigus," he recites, his invocation creating a beam that leaves frigid frost creeping along the spider's back.

Nilvae pummels Giant Spider with a Magic Stone for 4 damage.
Stool casts Chill Touch upon Giant Spider for 2 damage.
Sarith shoots Giant Spider for 5 damage, and heals himself for 5 with his Second Wind.
Eldeth shoots Other Giant Spider for 6 damage.
Dworic readies an attack.
Derendil Dodges.
Ront shoots Other Giant Spider for 4 damage.

Giant Spider climbs up,
Other Giant Spider climbs up, taking Dworic's 9 damage readied attack. It bites Dworic for 5 piercing damage and 12 poison damage. He can save for half with DC 11 Con - remember also, that dwarves have Advantage against poison.

Turvy casts Ray of Frost on Giant Spider, dealing 4 cold damage and slowing it for a turn.

It is Faedryl's turn!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --
Eighth Day, Escape

In her last life she'd have flayed them all for assaulting Lolth's children so pointlessly, but the spider queen gave her little succor now, and the needs of Faedryl came first. A not insignificant part sees this as beneath her - slaughtering animals like a slave might do, but a greater part of her wanted the matter dealt with quickly, quietly and ideally before additional reinforcements arrived to press them. Feeling a lot more comfortable in her acquired armour she strides past the female dwarf and unleashes a clang from her mouth against the closest spider, looking to end its life with as much mercy as she can muster. It was, still, a touch too close to them however, and she follows up with a mental shove, looking to throw it back down to the webbing.


Move: Getting into a position to see leftspider.
Action: Cast Toll the Dead on the spider. Gotta beat a DC14 Wis save [roll0]+modifiers) or take [roll1] Necrotic damage.
Bonus Action: Telekinetic Shove the nearby spider, it needs to beat a DC14 strength save [roll2] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl - trying to dislodge him. In the event leftspider dies, shove will go on rightspider instead, with any movement necessary to get line of effect.

[RandomWombat]

The telekinetic and mystical assault is weathered soundly by the creature, which pushes back against Faedryl's shove and hisses in anger.


Unable to reach any of the wounded... aside from Buppido, who seems content to sit at the table, Shuushar moves up beside Eldeth and places a webbed hand upon her shoulder. In spite of any revulsion she might feel to the fishman, a strange moment of clarity and calm fills her. "Do as one feels one must. I obbfer subport."

The derro looks in either direction at the crowded bridges. With the soft sigh of the lightly inconvenienced, he downs the rest of the water in his mug and steps up behind Sarith. Tilting his head, the corrupted dwarf takes aim and hurls the mug at the spider. The wood clatters against the wall beneath the spider, falling too short. Seemingly content that he has expended some effort, Buppido walks back to the table.

From around the corner near Nilvae, Jimjar steps forward and tries to deliver a kick to the spider, but it swivels back and hisses at him. Gambling at the risk of its fangs, he flicks his hand forward and jabs a finger right into its eye, stunning the creature just long enough to withdraw his hand to safety.

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, but leftspider resists.
Faedryl's telekinetic shove is likewise resisted.
Shuushar casts Guidance on Eldeth, granting her a d4 to spend on a d20 roll.
Buppido throws a mug at rightspider, missing.
Jimjar makes two unarmed strikes against rightspider, hitting with the second for a 10 damage sneak attack.

Borthan's turn is up!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan rose up from his pushing position with murder in his eyes. They didn't have time for this. They were already wounded. And, most of all, he was beginning to hate spiders. He stepped forward and rammed both shortswords upwards, attempting to impale the spider on his blades. Should the Lolth touched creature die, he will move back into the armory tower, looking for more water to drink while the others finish off the other arachnid.





Attacking the spider. Bonus action attack the spider with the other hand. [roll0] and [roll1] to hit, with [roll2] and [roll3] damage. If the spider dies he will move back into the bottom floor of the armory.

[RandomWombat]

The first blade flashes past the spider, but Borthan corrects his arm with the second and cuts deeply into the side of the spider's face. The arachnid loses consciousness and falls from the wall to land on the webs next to the dead drow below.

As he sidles past the others on the bridge to get back inside, Topsy slides down the ladder to land next to her brother. "This place is too small," she points out, looking at the crowded room around her. There's nothing she can do to reach the spider on the other side of their group, so she does last adjustments on her equipment straps and waits.

Borthan misses rightspider with one attack, but hits with the other for 5 damage and a KO.
Topsy is unable to reach a target.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith, Stool, Dworic and Eldeth are up!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

The gnome was correct, there was little Sarith could do to assist with the other spider given the throng of people in his path. Instead he fills the gap with the knocked out spider, aims, and looses his second bolt, looking to put the creature out of its misery. Whether you called it a mercy kill or inflicting unnecessary additional pain probably depends on how you view Sarith. He's not quite sure which it is either, if he's totally honest with himself. Possibly a bit of both.


Move: Not clear if Sarith can get within 5' or if the KO'd spider has dropped away, but if he can, he gets advantage+autocrits. Moving closer either way.
Action: Hand Crossbow (normal bolt) [roll0] Advantage for KO? [roll1] Damage: [roll2] + crit [roll3]
Possible sneak attack if advantage [roll4] + crit [roll5]
Bonus Action: None.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

Probably invoking the elegance and speed of her drow self, Nilvae dances about, stabbing the spider a few times and finishes in a rather unnnecessary flourish. Elvish blademaster! Look at me, I'm Drizz't. she adds, mocking the spider further with the name of the traitor drow.

Nilvae shivs the spider for 19 to hit and 6 damage.






https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh (10/10 rds.)
Concentration: -

The small myconid invokes the power of Psilofyr, enlarging his tiny cudgel with both of his arm's hyphae. Soon, the halfling-sized mushroom swings a weapon befitting a giant, but still with the same ease as a tiny stick.

Shillelagh for 24 to hit and 9 damage.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:

The spider firmly remained beyond Derendil's reach, much to his annoyance. Without a ranged weapon to assault it, it fell to his spell craft to strike the spider down. Whispering chants of winter in Elvish, he extends his hand and a light blue beam shot from it towards the spider, seeking to freeze it solid.




Ray of frost. [roll0] to hit. [roll1] cold damage on hit. Then move south west along to bridge to make room and check out what's coming next.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Dworic grits his teeth as the spider's fangs sink into his flesh. He feels the all too familiar sting of poison and shrugs it off. "Back to the pits you go," he says in a low growl, hefting his improvised weapon yet again.


• Move: --
• Action: Clubbing Spiders
- Attack: [roll0] | [roll1] (ADV from Reckless Attack, -5 from GWM)
- Damage: [roll2] (+10 GWM)
- Crit: 1 from Discord
- Dworic whiffs the Bonus attack from GWM
• Bonus: --







https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 15 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Eldeth deftly reloads her hand crossbow before drawing her newly acquired shortswod. "We really need to get going, preferably without drawing any more undue attention," she says loudly, stabbing at the nearby spider and following through by leveling her crossbow at the spired and firing another bolt.

• Move: draw Shortsword
• Action: Shortsword vs Leftspoder
- Attack: [roll3]
- Damage: [roll4]
• Bonus: Hand Xbow vs Leftspoder (Crossbow Expert)
- Attack: [roll5] (no Disadvantage within 5', ignore 1/2 and 3/4 cover)
- Damage: [roll6]

[RandomWombat]

Nilvae, Stool and Sarith unleash a ranged barrage on the spider lying vulnerable below, ensuring that it shall not come to and attack them from behind. On the opposite side of the guard post, Derendil's ray freezes the spider in place for Dworic's mighty blow, knocking the spider off the wall and into unconsciousness. From there, it is a simple task to rain down another cantrip or two and end its life.

As combat comes again to a close, Shuushar takes the opportunity to begin tending to the wounds of those inside. He goes between Buppido, Topsy, and Borthan, all of whom are in weakened condition.

Bort is healed for 11
Buppido is healed for 4
Topsy is healed for 5

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2[/QUOTE]

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

Nilvae nods in respect to Dworic. I have heard of Dwarven exploits of toughness, but that defies every description, master dwarf. The dose of poison would have killed a healthy horse. No wonder drow hate you if you are this hard to poison. Nilvae subconsciously rubs the place where the bolt pierced her a good two days ago.

Now what say you? Borthan and I go over to the rest of the outpost disguised as drow. I claim the situation is being handled but we need more guards to get it under control. Meanwhile you drop the drow into the pit and lay an ambush. Faedryl, Sarith? Could you describe their priestess to us? I don't want to accidentally run into the only person able to see through this, though I fully expect to be able to pinpoint a dignitary of Lolth to be spotted from a mile away.

This was the longest and most calm Nilvae was in the short period she was here.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Eighth Day, Escape

The face-thief deigned to address her so casually. Perhaps her affiliation with the thinblood - 'Bort' - meant she had never learned respect for her betters, even while she paraded around as a fake drow. "Shove her," a voice whispers in the back of her mind. "Send her careening down to the water. No one will know it was you," and for a moment she really considers doing so. She bites it back though. The mockery was that of an ignorant child, but one that she could still use as a tool. Faedryl had endured far worse than this. Flatly, without emotion to betray her irritation, she simply responds back "She's not known to me, I was brought in by another group and blindfolded." She shrugs, "There won't be that many women here, just stay away from any you see." She glances over at Sarith with a smug, knowing smirk, and beyond to where Duskryn was still hiding.






https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

Sarith is a touch more informed than Faedryl. He considers leaving the information out, but Faedryl's prompting pushes him to contribute. "There are only two females in the outpost - Ilvara, the head, and Asha, her apprentice," he drones, speaking as if to children, because they were children - he almost certainly had at least a few centuries on everyone here. He provides a brief description of both, highlighting any notable features and/or expected equipment that would differentiate the two. "There's little chance of luring Ilvara here alone, but separating the two would weaken the outpost significantly." He wasn't really sure why he was helping at this stage. Kronryn was dead and he'd lost his chance of exacting revenge. He had no particular qualms with Ilvara, she'd only done what she should. Yet...a small pit in his heart burns still. Something's pushing him forwards.

[RandomWombat]

With a plan beginning to form, and Ront able to understand... mostly, through Stool's telepathic spores, the group begins disposing of the bodies. Using her telekinesis, Faedryl is able to forcefully shove the corpses on the webs through, and down into the drink below. It leaves a few holes in the webbing, but the obvious bodies are soon dragged under the water by the ravenous ooze.

Ront and the gnomes begin dragging the rest of the bodies into the quaggoth den, out of sight, rather than make more disruptions on the web. Buppido instead decides to climb up the ladder into the armory and wait above, in ambush.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Eighth Day, Escape

With their ambush planned, and the bodies mostly disposed of. Faedryl returns to their cell, grimacing ever so slightly as the anti-casting field sets in over her once more. It felt like one of her senses was dulled, as if blood wasn't quite flowing through part of her consciousness. Duskryn was still there, of course. Useless. "The fight continues, though at our pace now." She tells him calmly, concisely. "If we don't succeed, your staying alive will be an obvious contradiction. You will fall under suspicion that we had you at our mercy and yet live." She makes no threatening motions, or indeed any motions at all, save for crossing her arms and leaning back against the cave wall, relaxed as she waits for the bait to be set. Confident. Assured. Hungry also, though that wasn't obvious from her stance. "The other prisoners will not let you be if you do not help. The choice is yours." She says it flatly, disinterested. Recruiting him would help them, of course, but if he wanted to do nothing and then face execution at the hands of either the (former) prisoners or the outpost, who was she to tell him otherwise?






https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

Sarith follows Buppido into the armoury, not out of any kinship or appreciation for the disturbing derro-fellow, merely because it seemed the optimal position to lie in wait as an ambush. He doesn't engage Buppido at all - the 'man' still stinks of the fresh blood on his face. Revolting.






Faedryl persuasion if required? [roll0]

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan takes a moment to collect himself as Shuushar's fishy hand begins to run over his wounds. He breathes easy as the pain recedes and he finds himself with only some nasty bruises. Thanks, fish man. This should help a lot. He spins the blades in his hands, then sheathes them both. He flushed a little bit- he wasn't used to casting spells with an audience. Under his breath he muttered Drowdrowdrow... in Dwarvish, and suddenly he is shrouded by the form of one of the guards who now resides in the quaggoth cells, mirroring his features exactly. He takes a moment to look at himself, fascinated slightly as his brown skin shifts to be the dark violet of a dark elf. Well, might as well get going... He falls into step behind Nilvae, trying to keep his features stoic. His nerves were up- this was suspiciously close to how things went when the dark elves captured him. Swallowing, he prayed to Sylvanus that this wouldn't be a repeat.






https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:

Derendil, spotting the gnome hiding at the top of the ladder, climbs up himself and assumes a crouched position near the edge of the trapdoor, waiting to jump down and surprise any patrol that comes their way.

[RandomWombat]

As the motley crew of former prisoners splits up into their ambush positions, Nilvae and Borthan march across the bridges in their disguises. At the other side, they re-enter the tunnels built into the wall of the cavern and pass by two quaggoth guards standing on either side. Up ahead is the ornate wooden gate into the shrine of Lolth, likewise guarded by another quaggoth, an arch of wooden supports above and along the wall. None of the creatures give them a second look.

Up a head, beyond the shrine, is the commons area that Borthan recognizes from his work with the buckets. All too familiar and well-traversed.


Meanwhile, Duskryn sits in the cell, not even bothering to look up and address Faedryl. Or perhaps just his conditioning making him know better than to look a drow woman in the eye. "There's no point. What is there left except spite?" he holds up his sword arm, looking at the hand, scarred and withered from acid burns, the tendons and muscles needed to wield a weapon properly beyond any healing he could afford, or anything his priestess would deem worth the expense. Then the drow drops the hand back down his his side and leans back against the wall, closing his eyes to await what may come.

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 27/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

The dwarf watches with grim satisfaction as the spider sails through the air before being pin-cushioned by spells and bolts. He relaxes his stance momentarily and stakes stock of his surroundings. He accepts the praise from the transformed drow with a grunted "Thank you."

As the group decides on an ambush-based plan, Dworic takes position east of the armory and flattens himself against the nearby wall, reducing his profile.






https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 15 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

"There's likely enough rope to abseil down the tower if this plan doesn't pan out," Eldeth mentions before taking position near Dworic. She nocks another bolt to her hand crossbow and levels it at the bridge, crouching low and remaining hidden.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Eighth Day, Escape

"You and Sarith really are two of a kind." They had time to chat while the bait was being set, and perhaps her speaking would keep the nerves calm. She puts on a theatrical voice, mocking, extravagant. "Oh, woe is me! I'm scarred, and my lover rejected me! Oh, woe is me! I committed a crime and lost my position!" Her eyerolling is near audible. It's hard for her to feel any real sympathy considering her own situation - far worse, in her mind, than theirs. They didn't suffer any torture, they weren't forced to watch. They'd not fallen from so great a height, nor fallen on such jagged rocks. Figuratively speaking. "What is left?' The rest of your life. Maybe that'll last ten minutes. Maybe it'll last ten years. Maybe it'll last ten hundred years. If you want to live for spite then start there. Survive. Let Ilvara rot knowing you lived past her if that's what keeps you going." It was a familiar thought, except between her and her mother. Faedryl had far more to live for yet though, it wasn't just spite or hatred keeping her going. Grander plans existed yet.

She pauses, before finding a mite of humour in the thought that springs to mind. "Besides, I hear some women find facial scars attractive. Mind you most of those women are orcs."

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

Where do we go now? Nilvae whispers to her cohort while checking the area for the drow acolyte.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan simply grunts and points at the common area where the other drow would be. He took a moment to adjust his armor to display his wounds more openly. Whispering, he said Stir up the water to attract cave fish. They're blind, so you gotta make a lot of racket. That's your job.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

ATTENTION LOWLIVES! Nilvae shouts in undercommon. The outpost was attacked by demons, who freed our prisoners. We need to act swiftly to get this under control, else the high priestess will have your heads.

Nilvae commands the quaggoths to line up as he rushes into the common area, where she slows her pace according to not disturb the high priestess. Kronryn-Nilvae bows in front of the dignitaries, avoiding direct eye contact. Milady, I have been informed chasme attacked the outpost. We have a grasp on the situation but seeing as we are fighting demonic hordes, I would beg your grace to lend me aid in form of your apprentice here. I would not want to loose more fodder than necessary. This operation after all is meant to strengthen your house.

She kind of elbows guard-Borthan to add something to the story. Our scout here knows more about the situation.

22 on Persuasion.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Bort grunted just a bit when Nilvae threw her elbow. Keeping his eyes down and his voice hushed, her responded We're showing them the wrath of Llolth in there, but we need support. People keep getting knocked out by the sound coming off the big demon's wings! He uses undercommon, but silently chastises Nilvae for not picking elvish.





Using the help action to provide advantage.

[RandomWombat]

The Cells

"You chose this."

Sitting with his arms draped across his knees, staring into the ground, Duskryn's voice is nearly a whisper. But Faedryl can clearly hear something in it has changed. There is a harshness, guttural, cracked, something in the man has snapped as he pushes on his knees and forces himself to his feet. Without looking up, he reaches an arm through the bars of the cell door's window and silently locks the cage from the outside. Then he tosses the key deeper into the cell, and then, only then, does he look up. Those two eyes, an orange like amber, glare out at her with constricted pupils filled with a fury born of despair, pushed beyond the brink.

"I did my duty. I fought and I won and this is my reward. You... someone like you... you chose this," his words drip with venom, and his voice cracks again. It's like a dam has broken, with hate, and sadness and fear, all pouring out of him like the tears welling up in his eyes, running down the twisted contours of his disfigured face. "You choose to crawl in the muck, give up everything others claw for, and- and you have the AUDACITY to come here and look down on ME!" All of the broken quiet and surrender in his voice is gone now, as he grabs at the sword in his scabbard, hands and arms twitching with wild, uncontrolled rage. At this point, all language breaks down save for a scream like the shrieks of the damned as he charges forward. The blade of his weapon clips Faedryl in the side, smashing through some of her chain armor to bloody her.

Hearing the shouting, Jimjar is on his way - perhaps even a moment sooner, when he saw the drow's arm lock the door. He slides to a stop in front of the cell and starts trying to pick the lock. But without his tools he's left fiddling with it using a bit of bone from the quaggoth den, which snaps off and has to be dug out of the lock as he frowns. He steps back to dig out something else to use.

"We should have never left our back to him," Topsy hisses, gripping her dagger but unable to do much.

Duskryn loses his **** and locks the door, then attacks Faedryl for 9 damage.

Jimjar attempts to pick the lock, but is unable without tools.
Eldeth and Dworic are up.

Those in the armory are Surprised, and cannot act on the first round.

Attacking through the cell window will have 3/4 cover.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

The Infiltration

As they rush out into the commons, the quaggoth behind them line up and await orders. Nilvae finds the high priestess not present out in the common area, however, instead spotting Mr. Spide. The bulky black arachnid rolling an unconscious dog wrapped up in webs back and forth with its fangs, yet not digging into the beast as the drow watching it most likely expect. The two quaggoth supposed to guard the lift are unconsciously slumped against the wall, more victims of the demon-buzz.

They find them already mid-discussion about the very same issue of the demons. "-towards Gracklstugh," one of the guards is reporting to another pair, with a second, lolth-touched giant spider nearby eyeing the dog-meal her blackshelled cousin is toying with jealously. The appearance of Kronryn causes them to pause in the discussion and turn to salute. His use of undercommon isn't met with much note, though they respond in drow-elvish. "Sir! The demons were moving in the direction of the Gracklstugh tunnels."

"Then let's get the prisoners back in line," the second guard agrees, drawing his shortsword.

From one of the smaller stalactites, another drow officer emerges in his plainclothes, albeit with blade in hand and a quaggoth at his heel. "Kronryn. I heard the alarms." After hearing the report he nods and motions to the other drow to fall in line. "Come on. Let's put out one fire while the other has been kind enough to leave on its own."

This group is not in initiative yet, though they likely will be as they move back towards the cells.

I'm assuming that Nilvae's words were adjusted a bit upon not seeing either priestess in the commons, with her 22.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

Not noticing the Lolth devouts, Nilvae alters her spech a bit, switching to drow-elvish. Warriors. We can only now put this rebellion down. I am sure the demons return, and we would need our prisoners as fodder to slow them down. They are of little use injured, but if they die to save our lives, to win this fight today, so be it. Then she adresses the quaggoths in undercommon.

You long for a fight, you itch to murder. Today you will have this opportunity. Fight or die! We form a spear-head, with you in it. The drow flank us, with my sergeant commanding the slave-warriors. Retake the armory, then to drive the rabble back into their cages.

Nilvae seems to enjoy roleplaying as the drow prince a bit too much, and you cannot tell where her lies end and her true pleasure begins. As she sees Mr Spide and Muttley, she starts to sweat profusely. Ultimatively she decides to yell down there in beast-speech.

If you decide to eat Muttley, you are in SUCH trouble, young mister! Pick him up and follow us, in about 10 minutes.

As quickly as she fell into the singsang of harmonic melodies, basically singing to the beasts, she is back to her drow self. I will explain later. Now crush these vermin!

[cigaw]

https://imgur.com/gaCUySy.jpg
Eldeth Feldrun (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2358256)
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 15 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Eldeth clenches her jaw in frustration and considers just letting the horrible drow kill each other. The noise, however, she couldn't tolerate. She takes aim through the small window and fires a bolt at the crazed dark elf while muttering to herself.
"Moradin preserve me and curse this ebon skin filth."

• Action: Hand Xbow vs More annoying drow
- Attack: [roll0] (no Disadvantage within 5', ignore 1/2 and 3/4 cover)
- Damage: [roll1]






https://imgur.com/6c9WvHV.jpg
Dworic Urgrimson (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2357058)
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 27/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --

Eight Day - Escape

Dworic considers attempting to kick down the door but realizes prisoners have likely attempted that before. He is, however, on the easier to access side of the locked door this time. He takes the hammer and a piton he liberated from the armory and sets to work on the door hinges.

Dworic is proficient in both Smith and Mason tools. Idea is to use a piton as a prying tool/chisel and get the door off the hinges.

Here's a d20?
- [roll2]

[RandomWombat]

The Cells

Eldeth's bolt sails through the bars with expert precision, slashing across Duskryn's shoulder. But in this moment, the drow has eyes only for the source of his rage. In the meantime, Dworic steps in past Jimjar and begins hammering the hinges of the door out of their sockets. Working with expert precision and a steady hand, he knocks the upper one out, leaving the door hanging at an angle from the lower hinge.

Eldeth shoots Duskryn through the door for 4 damage.
Dworic successfully removes one of the two door hinges. Apart from being halfway there from taking it down the clever way, this also makes it easier to break open.

I also forgot Stool is present near the cells, so Stool's turn is now. Faedryl can also act as part of the initiative block.

Those in the armory are Surprised, and cannot act on the first round.

Attacking through the cell window will have 3/4 cover.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

The Infiltration

Two of the drow exchange a curious look as Kronryn begins speaking to the spiders. "I was not aware you had this ability, sir," one of them says, sounding more impressed than worried.

"A gift from Lolth?" the other officer near him asks, as the drow begin marching towards the cells, and the fourth quaggoth joins the other three at the vanguard.

The other spider in the commons area seems more upset by this development, chittering at Nilvae and then at Mr. Spide. Mr. Spide responds in short, snippy chirps, rolling the cocooned mutt in close. The Loth-touched spider takes offense and rears up, baring her fangs at the black-shelled one. It seems that squabbles between the giant spiders is nothing new, and the drow pay it little mind as they assemble near the bridge.

"If the foreign male refuses to eat its food, I will gladly partake in his stead..."

"The mutt is mine, goddess-pawn. So you can kindly go catch a fly."

"Insolent mite. You cannot speak to me in that tone. I ought to pluck out six of your eyeballs for a snack, and leave you ogling about like a two-legs!"

"You may try madam, but I assure you I am no stranger to violent problem resolution."

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Eighth Day, Escape

Pain was no strange to Faedryl, though she does hiss through clenched teeth as the blade cuts her. A child. Through and through. "You chose death then. I'd say it was a pity, but I doubt anyone left on the planet would think so. Not even you." He lacked any real grace with the weapons right now, and perhaps the taunt would throw off his balance further while she focuses on evading the weapons. At least the dwarves were pulling their weight. Drow superiority as an abstract concept was really taking a hit in this situation. Unwilling to put distance between her and her escape, and unable to muster a proper magical defence she does what she can - aiming to force him back with the Grimoire's powers.






Wasn't 100% clear if the door swings in or out of the prison, my assumption would be out, so the hinges aren't prisoner-accessible. It probably won't matter at all aside from flavour.

Move: Shifting round Duskryn
Action: Dodge. She got no spells yo :(
Bonus Action: Telekinetic shove. If the door opens out of the prison, she's shoving him into the door. If it opens into the prison, she shoves him at the wall. Don't want to risk him getting in the way of getting the door open. Must make a [roll0]+modifier strength save vs. DC14. [roll1] damage if he goes into a wall.

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark

Borthan, doing his best to play up the bruises on his body and the blood spilled on his clothes that he hadn't modified with the illusion, began making his way towards the rear of the party of drow and quaggoths. He again had to resist throwing something at Nilvae when she started talking to the damn spiders. A small hiss of annoyance was all that escaped his lips, which could have been interpreted as a pained sound. Beware of the male dwarf. He's brute strong and bloodthirsty as well. Keeps shouting oaths and curses in his native language. Borthan had been speaking in elvish, but he changed to dwarvish for the finish. Spider-kissers! Blood and fire! Prey! Behind the glamour of his illusion, Bort's pupils fully dilated and his heart rate picked up as the single word of the spell heralded doom for the rearmost assault member, with Bort's enhanced vision floating between their vital spots. He could almost hear the blood pumping and breath quickening of his target. Outwardly, his illusory features remained unchanged. Hands on the hilts of his shortswords, Borthan waited for the opportune moment to strike.




Falling back to the rear of the column of Drow and Quaggoths, pretending to be injured. Casting Hunter's Mark on the last person in line for the invasion attempt. Readying a strike, but more likely going to march out onto the bridge first to form a pincer on the guards and slaves.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Stool once again glows with an eerie green light, this time throwing a good chunk of his spores at the assailing drow in hopes to blind him. The small particles are aimed at his face, there eating away at his eye balls.

Con save vs. DC 13 or be blinded [roll0]
Repeat save at the end of every turn.

[RandomWombat]

The Cells

"And I'll be taking you with me," Duskryn howls like a beast, shoving through the telekinetic force pushing back on his advance. Spores swirl in from the other side of the door, and Duskryn closes his eyes, grabbing a dagger and swinging wildly with both weapons at Faedryl. The mad swings clatter against the wall.

Ront steps forward through the crowd waiting in ambush, trying to take aim with his hand crossbow. But there are too many people in the way and he pulls the weapon back with a scowl. Turvy stands next to his sister, helplessly looking on with a blue swirling mist gatherer around his hands. Sliding to the fore, Shuushar lays a supportive hand upon Dworic's back, and the dwarf feels a bit of extra strength welling up for what must be done.

Coming up alongside him, Jimjar squats low to stay out of the way of any bolts flying and helps Dworic keep the hinge steady while he hammers away. Topsy flips her dagger around, holding it by the blade between two fingers, and strafes around to take aim in preparation for the door to go down. "He's moving erratically, but he leans left when he raises the shortsword," the gnome advises Eldeth.


Meanwhile, those perched in the armory can hear the furious howling. Buppido clicks his tongue in disappointment and whispers, "But it will make the jailors hasty, reckless when they come through. We should remain here... ready to strike what the bait snares."

Stool uses Blindness on Duskryn, but he resists the spell.
Faedryl Dodges and uses a Telekinetic Shove, but Duskryn resists.
Shuushar casts Guidance on Dworic.

Duskryn misses his shortsword and dagger.

Jimjar Helps Dworic with breaking off the last hinge. (We forgot Exhaustion Disadvantage on the last roll, not gonna retcon anything. But Jimbo will help negate it this time.)
Topsy readies an action for a dagger throw when the door is removed. She uses her bonus action to Help Eldeth, giving Advantage on her next attack.

Derendil, Sarith, Stool, Dworic, Eldeth, and Faedryl are up in the next block.

The drow reinforcements and infiltrators will enter initiative next round.

Attacking through the cell window will have 3/4 cover.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

The Infiltration

While Nilvae listens to the spiders bicker and threaten one another, Borthan moves back the way they came at the rear of the column. The first of the quaggoth are beginning to lead the way alone across the bridge, the drow following behind in formation. "Come now. There is no need to pollute your tongue echoing their filthy language," the quarry just ahead of him quips, but any poking fun at the dwarves is cut off when a howl of rage is heard from inside. The Duskryn elf's voice. It spurs the marked drow officer to urge the others ahead, onto the bridge behind the quaggoth.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Stool mixes another greyscale of spores into his mixtures. It squeaks like a particularly eager yet adorable piglet.

Con save vs. DC 13 or be blinded [roll0]
con save DC 11 or be stunned [roll1]
Repeat save at the end of every turn.






https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

There is a chance they understand me, and if we don't crush this rebellion, the head prieste... Kronryn-Nilvae stops as she hears fighting. Go, NOW! she commands, letting the brutes charge ahead.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Eighth Day, Escape

"Ah, maybe." Faedryl replies, focusing once again on avoiding his attacks and forcing him back with her mental abilities. "If or when I die it won't be for throwing a temper tantrum." Keep goading. Keep waiting. They almost had the door down, and she almost had an escape from being locked in a cell with this dreg. It didn't feel right to call him drow at this point.







Move: None
Action: Dodging again. Safer than a feeble dagger attack.
Bonus Action: Telekinetic shove. Must make a [roll0]+modifier strength save vs. DC14. [roll1] damage if he goes into a wall.




https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

Sarith nods at the derro. "Wait until it sounds like some of them have passed, then open the hatch and we can take them from behind, overwhelm them on the bridge, maybe even throw them off." He loads a bolt - just a normal one - into his crossbow.


Move: If he can get to the left of the hatch he'll do so, not clear from the map if that's a 'movable space'. Maybe swap with Derendil? Not a lot of sight range from the current position, but oh well. If not, no biggy.
Bonus Action: Cunning Action: Hide. [roll2] Disadvantage due to exhaustion: [roll3]
Action: Ready Action Attack. Trigger: Either Buppido or Derendil opens the hatch, and if an enemy is in sight. [roll4]. Advantage if hiding successful: [roll5] [roll6]
Possible sneak attack if advantage [roll7]

If the hatch doesn't get opened he can't do much anyway, so no big loss if they spend their turn on other stuff :P

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:

Derendil holds a finger up to Bupido and Sarith in the armory. In his pitiful undercommon, Derendil points down. If we wait too long, they may come up. Hard to jump down onto a ready weapon. We have reinforcements in both directions. We split the enemy. Make them fight on all fronts. He prepares to do just that, but whether Bupido and the dark elf take his advice or not Derendil intended to follow the gruesome dwarf into battle, not the other way around. If someone were to fall on the first spear, why not the raving psycopath?





Holding action to drop down after Bupido and make a claw attack. 10 to hit, (15 if it is with advantage to hit) and 6 damage (rolls in Discord). If an attack would hit Derendil, he will use his reaction to cast Shield and raise his AC by 5 for the round.

[RandomWombat]

The Cells

More spores sputter out and float around Duskryn's head, but the elf is determined and vicious, shutting his eyes and pushing through to reach Faedryl again. A second bolt flies through the window and grazes him, moments before the resounding metal clang of the door falling off of its hinges, opening the way in and out of the accursed cell and stepping back.

Before Duskryn can raise his weapon, Ront steps in and grabs him from behind, punching Duskryn square in the back. While the elf is still reeling, Ront grabs him in a lock with his arm and pulls him back, tusks bared. "Get off of me! This is between me and her, you stupid beast!" Duskryn shouts in impotent fury. Faedryl shoves Duskryn with a thought, slamming his head into the wall next to the doorway as he struggles against Ront's grip.

Spinning his weapons around into reverse grip, Duskryn tries to stab Ront behind him. The orc's bared teeth twitch wider in a wince as part of Duskryn's clumsy blade makes contact.

"I hear them coming," Turvy mutters, sliding past the others to gather a bolt of frost in his hands, preparing to meet the incoming drow forces. And he's right, the calls of the drow and their quaggoth are drawing near, clamoring onto the other bridge. He launches a bolt of cold at the lead quaggoth in an attempt to create a blockade and slow them down.


"I suppose it matters little when we strike. They will die all the same, so come what fate may..." Buppido hums softly to himself under his breath, a soft smile beneath his mustache as he waits for someone to open the hatch and spring him forth.

"Hit me with that protective magic. I will take the front while they're busy with the whinging elf," Topsy instructs Shuushar, holding out an arm for his webbed hand to clasp. After receiving his blessing, she steps protectively in front of her brother and holds her dagger ready to throw.


"Move! Push forward!" the drow officer next to Borthan calls out to the procession upon the bridge in front of him, unaware of Borthan's mark upon him. Towards the back of their group, near the turn into the common area, Nilvae stands in disguise. She can see Mr. Spide baring his fangs as the other giant spider eyes the mutt greedily.

Stool casts Blindness again, but Duskryn just manages to resist. He is unable to use Pacifying spores since casting was his action, and Duskryn was out of range anyways.
Sarith hides and readies an attack.
Derendil holds action.
Eldeth shoots Duskryn for 4 damage.
Dworic finishes removing the door.
Ront punches Duskryn from the flank for 8 damage, and uses a bonus action to Grapple him.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost on Quaggoth, dealing 4 damage and slowing it by 10 feet for 1 round.
Faedryl shoves Duskryn for 2 damage.
Shuushar casts Virtue, giving Topsy 4 temporary hitpoints.

Duskryn attacks Ront, hitting with his shortsword for 5 damage, but missing with his dagger.

Buppido holds action, waiting to jump down.
Topsy readies an attack for when an enemy enters proper range.
Mr. Spide readies an attack if the giant spider approaches.

It is Borthan's turn.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan waits for the last drow underling to get on the bridge, taking his time and letting them move to underneath the trap door and his reinforcements. Then he turns to the drow officer, smiles, and attempts to ram both his shortswords up underneath the dark elf's armor. Whether his attack succeeds or fails, he will then move to block the bridge. Alright, fellow convicts. Time to get the party started.





Hold action until the last of the drow peons moves forward towards the trap door. Then attack the drow officer with both shortswords. [roll0] to hit on the first attack, [roll1] if I have advantage. Same thing for the second shortsword attack- [roll2] and [roll3] to hit. First attack- [roll4] plus [roll5] for hunter's mark. Second attack- [roll6] and [roll7] for hunter's mark. Then move to block the bridge (without provoking an AOO from the officer if he still lives). If the drow officer dies I move my hunter's mark to the rearmost drow on the bridge and move to block him in.

EDIT- Rolled crit damage for the first attack in the discord. Shortsword + hunter's mark crit for 9 additional damage.

[RandomWombat]

The quaggoth, at the command of their master, charge across the bridge and into the guard post. One of them charges straight up to Topsy, throwing off her aim as she tries to throw a dagger at the first to enter her line of sight.

Borthan holds action.

Quaggoth triggers Topsy's readied attack, but she misses.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith, and Stool now act.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Stool squeals and erupts in a final magical scream, this time hyphae shoot from his "arms" into the ground.Nothing happens yet, but Stool is ready to lock the enemy down.

Delay to cast entangle.






https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

Follow me. You may bring your price with you. Nilvae commands her donkey-spider. She then follows Bort to the drow. What are you doing here? They got the shock troops now. Go, now!

Delaying Faerie Fire until they are with the others.

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

"The fight has started, lets begin." Sarith whispers, kicking open the armoury hatch. He swings forward, finding a spot to loose a bolt at the closest quaggoth from their position on high, before swerving back round to take 'cover' behind Derendil and Buppido. Let them take the hits, they certainly seemed more eager to bloody themselves than he was.


Move: Open the hatch, fire down at the nearest quaggoth, then retreat.
Action: Attack. [roll0]. Advantage from hiding: [roll1] Damage: [roll2]+[roll3] sneak attack

Bonus Action: Cunning Action: Hide. [roll4] Disadvantage due to exhaustion: [roll5]

[RandomWombat]

The trapdoor into the armory springs open, a bolt loosed from above into one of the quaggoth. It graces the creature's tough hide and leaves a long, red streak spilling blood down its fur and onto the stone ground. Broad grin forming upon his face, Buppido jumps down He swings his way onto the break room table next to the startled quaggoth, immediately jabbing his gemstone shiv into its chest. Derendil is right behind him, dropping to the bottom of the ladder. His claw swipes out and raking across his contemptible kin.

Seeing their enemy reveal themselves, the drow warriors run out onto the bridge to take up firing positions, drawing their hand crossbows. One fires past the quaggoth in the 'doorway' of the guard post, the poison-tipped bolt striking the stone wall behind him with a crack. Two more bolts are launched across the web-netted chasm below, likewise sailing past their targets. The drow scowl and begin reloading their weapons.

The officer behind them looks on with disappointment and reaches for his own crossbow, only for Borthan to draw both swords and strike from behind. The drow senses the movement at the last second, twisting away and preventing one of the attacks from hitting anything important, but the other leaves a wide, bloody gash in his side. "What is this?!" the drow exclaims in surprise, Borthan swiftly circling him with his footwork to cut him off from aid.

The door near Nilvae opens and the face of a drow woman peeks out, long white hair dangling around a soft and youthful face. Unlikely the head priestess of the outpost. "Kronryn. What is happening?" the priestess asks, mistaking Nilvae for her disguise.

Nilvae delays turn.
Stool delays turn.
Sarith shoots Quaggoth for 7 damage, then Hides.
Buppido's readied action triggers, and he jumps down from hiding. He stabs the same Quaggoth for a 24 damage critical sneak attack.
Derendil's readied action triggers and he jumps down after Buppido. He slashes the wounded Quaggoth for 6 damage.

Drow Warriors advance across the bridge. They fire at Derendil, Topsy and Turvy, all missing.

Borthan's readied action triggers and he stabs the Drow Elite twice, for a 22 damage crit and an 11 damage hit.

Eldeth and Dworic are up. Nilvae and Stool may take their delayed turns if they wish.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Hyphae shoot up after they have enveloped the draw bridge and the stone column that held the armory.

Entangle. Saves [roll0]






https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

Oh my dear priestess, all will be well. Kronryn-Nilvae enters the room with the acolyte and closes the door behind him. The demons have won. They killed us, and now they will take you. *Nilvae's visage melts to a yochlol, one of Lolth's most deformed servant demons. Under the cleric's feet the ground crumbles revealing a giant spider net. The acolyte sees herself in a web, approached by spiders from all sides, and by hostile driders. We take our revenge now. The closest spider impales the cleric, filling her with poison.


*all part of a Phantasmal Force spell

Int save to disbelieve [roll1] or take [roll2] psychic damage.

[RandomWombat]

The Guard Post

From the stonework and between cracks in the wood, grey hyphae reach up and grab onto the assembled forces of the outpost. The quaggoth with their strength and clawed feet tear away the fungal growths before they can take hold, but the drow are not so lucky. It crawls up, grabbing onto their arms and interfering with not only their movement, but their aim.

Dworic grunts that he's got this, and Eldeth turns to join in the fight at the choke point. Leaning past the wall to aim over the gnomes, she clacks off a shot with her crossbow, but the bolt goes wide and strikes the wall.

"Laven Byon Seek!" the gnome wizard chants, three glowing spheres of magical force arcing around his sister with unerring accuracy and slamming into the quaggoth looming over her.

The Cell

Dworic enters the cell and swings his chair at Duskryn. The drow kicks his feet up, using the orc grappling him from behind as a backboard to catch the chair with his feet and kick off of it, sending it careening away from its intended target.

Striding past the struggle, Shuushar narrowly avoids a shortsword to the eye as he walks calmly past Duskryn, held by Ront. The fishman reaches out and lays a webbed hand upon Faedryl, covering her in a thin, misty barrier.

The Shrine

Nilvae steps inside, pushing past the priestess. Her face contorts in indignation at being forced back by a lowly male. Then her eyes light up with realization. "Kronryn would never be so presumptuous," she hisses, reaching for a mace with a round metal head at her belt. Illusions slither into her mind, but her wary intellect dispels them, and Nilvae can feel her spell crumble. "Sylvia, to me!" she calls, and a large spider emerges from beneath a pile of pillows to hiss and charge at Nilvae.

"Stink of white meat you do, fakedrow! We will bite you and chew you and eat you we will, fakedrow!"

Being able to understand words in the quiet hissing she hears alerts Nilvae, and she sidesteps in time to avoid a pair of fangs sinking into her leg.

Through the trapdoor at the back of the shrine, Nilvae can hear muffled voices.

The Commons

As soon as the lolth-touched spider is out of 'Kronryn's' supervision, it rushes at Mr. Spide. But the black shelled spider is ready and meets her charge with a bite of his own, coming out on top in the exchange of hissing, bubbling venom, and tangled legs. The wee mutt lay beneath the battling arachnids, unable to help decide its fate.

Stool casts Entangle, ensnaring the Drow but failing to capture the quaggoth.
Nilvae casts Phantasmal Force, failing to ensorcell the priestess.
Eldeth shoots at Quaggoth, but misses.
Dworic attacks Duskryn, but misses despite Adv.

Giant Spider bites at Nilvae for a miss.
Giant Spider approaches Mr. Spide, provoking his readied attack and taking 5 damage and 12 poison damage.
Giant Spider bites Mr. Spide, dealing 9 damage, and 3 poison damage after a successful save.

Turvy casts Magic Missile, dealing 12 damage to the bridge Quaggoth.
Shuushar moves past Duskryn, provoking an attack. Duskryn whiffs a crit due to Disadvantage.
Shuushar casts Virtue on Faedryl, granting her 6 temp hp.

It is Faedryl's turn!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Eighth Day, Escape

With the door open and a gap available, Faedryl does the only sensible thing she can and immediately leaves the magic-blocking cell, darting past Duskryn with a sly smile. The feeling of her weave connection returning is immediate and warm. Evidently while locked in with Duskryn the bait had been successful, to a certain extent, as she notes the quaggoths approaching from the armoury tower. With a half-thought she lashes out at the quaggoth on the bridge, aiming to give the deep gnomes some extra space, even as she turns back to her would-be assassin. Her fingers trace sigils in the air, practiced, precise, as the magic circles form before her. Three beads of gleaming silver-white magic slowly grow as she utters the final word of her incantation. They stream forward, striking Duskryn and detonating with pure magical energy, hopefully to put him down for good.







Move: Out of the cell. No OA because Duskryn already used his attack
Action: Her first real spell - Magic Missile! On Duskryn, specifically. [roll0] per dart. 3 darts=15 damage total
Bonus Action: Telekinetic shove on the quaggoth Must make a [roll1]+modifier strength save vs. DC14.

[RandomWombat]

The Guard Post

Buppido swings his shiv in an arc, bringing it down against the quaggoth's face, standing on the table before it. He misses its eye by a small margin, but reaches up with his free hand, uncaring of its sharp teeth, to grab onto the wound inflicted on its cheek and wrench it open with his fingers.

On the bridge, Topsy draws a second dagger and delivers a pair of small cuts to the quaggoth in front of her, not nearly enough to bring down a monster of its size.

Cells

Slipping out of the cell and leaving Duskryn behind, Faedryl sends a wave of energy bolts back at him, which curve around Ront to slam into the drow's chest. In spite of the continued punishment, the crippled warrior refuses to expire, struggling against Ront's grip, to no avail.

Sidling up to see past Ront, Jimjar loads his hand crossbow with a poisoned bolt and tries to take Duskryn out of the fight and free them to join the others. "Sorry, guy. Need you to take a time out." But his one-liner is wasted as Duskryn leans back against Ront, the bolt whistling past into the wall. "Whoops. Hey, how muchya wanna bet I can make the next one?" he asks, elbowing Faedryl as he reloads.

The Shrine

Outside of the shrine, the draw draws a dagger and squares off against Borthan, his graceful elven stance contrasted against Borthan's powerful dwarven style. The difference is not lost on the drow either, as he lunges forward, exchanging glancing blows with Borthan in both directions. "You're not really a drow. That style, duergar, isn't it? As you some dwarven assassin?" he spits the words as his blade finds purchase, puncturing Borthan's stolen armor.

The Commons

Between fending off the other spider and keeping it from getting a hold of his bundled canine 'friend', Mr. Spide fails to land a bite on his foe.

Faedryl casts Magic Missile on Duskryn for 15 damage.

Duskryn attempts to break the grapple, but fails.

Buppido sneak attacks Quaggoth for 16 damage, then uses an offhand unarmed strike for 1 damage.

Drow Elite strikes Borthan twice for 5 and 4 damage.

Jimjar attempts to shoot Duskryn with a drow poisoned bolt, but misses.
Topsy slashes Quaggoth twice for 6 and 2 damage.
Mr. Spide bites at Giant Spider, but misses.

Borthan is up!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 15/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan grimaced as both the drow officer's blows strike home, but he focuses his mind and manages to maintain his Mark on the man. Not like this, Zuek. NOT LIKE THIS! Damn, this guy was fast. Faster than Borthan, that was for sure. But he couldn't keep up with the half-drow's strength and mass. You're close. I was trained by duergar. Trained to kill people like you. But I'm something MUCH more dangerous. All that training, and no longer a slave. You will be killed by a free man this day, Captain Asshat. I'd call you dark elf scum, but that'd be a pot-kettle-black situation, now wouldn't it? He attempted a straight jab with one shortsword, aiming for the officer's thigh. It was a move that Vrek had drilled into him a thousand painful times in the training yard. "You tall folk leave yourselves open with those gangly, silly long legs, Zuek!" But the follow-up was a move of his own creation- a rising stab at the opposite armpit. Both strikes carried all of Strong Shadow's strength, trying to muscle past any parries or deflections.





Action- attack with the left hand. [roll0] to hit, [roll1] damage from the blade and [roll2] from Hunter's Mark. Bonus action- attack with the right hand. [roll3] to hit, [roll4] damage from the blade and [roll5] from Hunter's Mark. And just in case I crit, two more d6 damage- [roll6]

[RandomWombat]

The Guard Post

Spraying bloody spit out of its mouth and across Buppido's face, the quaggoth shoves him away and makes two lunging swipes with its claws, but the unarmored dwarf swivels between them with a steady, unfazed smile on his face, as if it were a foregone conclusion. A third quaggoth marches through the fungal growths covering the floor to join the wall of monsters closing Derendil and Borthan in, its swipes failing to meet either of them as Derendil deflects a deadly strike with his shield. The last of the three tries to rush in and Derendil in close quarters, but a clawed foot set against its chest shoves it back out of reach.

On the bridge, Topsy ducks around one swing, and a sharp clawed kick comes up unexpectedly from below. It drives straight into her chest and she stumbles back, Turvy catching and steadying her. "Sis!"

"I'm fine. Didn't puncture the armor," she responds, catching her breath and standing on her own again as the quaggoth regains its balance from the kick.

Cells

...

The Shrine

Borthan's two-pronged attack strikes home - the thrust at the drow's leg nearly misses, but without a shield he is left exposed on the side, even with his quick footwork. Borthan's blade punctures flesh, and blood spills out onto the stone, painting it red. The opening his enough for his second blade to swing up and catch the drow along the shoulder as he tries and fails to parry. Not the crippling blow Borthan had hoped for, but another in a war of a thousand cuts. Bleeding for many small cuts and nicks garnered from their duel, the drow sags and his energy flags.

"You fight well, dwarf-trained assassin," the drow officer pays him rare compliment, between labored breaths as he pants. Blood running down his arms slickens the handles of his two blades, but his grip remains firm and his eyes steel. "Come then, free man. I will pay you the courtesy of dying on your feet, stead of on your knees!" The melee is joined again as the two of them continue to exchange flashing blades.

The Commons

...

Borthan strikes the Drow Elite twice for 14 and 11 damage.

Quaggoth misses Buppido twice.
Quaggoth misses Buppido and Derendil each.
Quaggoth misses Derendil twice.
Quaggoth misses Topsy twice.
Always a good series of combat logs for the players to see.

Nilvae, Derendil, Stool and Sarith are up.

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

Sarith is quietly impressed by the ability of Derendil and Buppido to not immediately get mobbed and killed by the quaggoths below, if only because it leaves him free to continue his assault from above unhindered. He pads forward, darts to the side of the hatch and fires down, before disappearing again in the hopes of staying hidden. He'd lost track of Faedryl, but it was safe to assume that she was probably being smug about something. Maybe it was good that he didn't have to see it.


Move: Scoot round, shoot the quaggoth which is on the far left (below Buppido), then retreat.
Action: Attack. [roll0] Advantage from hiding: [roll1] Damage: [roll2]+ [roll3] sneak attack

Bonus Action: Cunning Action: Hide. [roll4] Disadvantage due to exhaustion: [roll5]

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/geqWhgA.jpg
Derendil (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2356146)
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:

Derendil raises his shield just in time to deflect a claw thrown at his face. His first instinct is to snarl, throw aside his shield, and try to savage the opposing quaggoth, but his mind holds firm. He does lash out with a claw, but he keeps his shield up as he was trained by his tutors so long ago.





Claw attack- [roll0] and [roll1] damage. Reaction to cast shield if someone would hit him. No movement.

[Spore]

https://i.imgur.com/lDN7amo.png
Stool (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2360158)
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: Entangle

Stool commands oddly elegantly flying black clouds of spores in the air. They swarm at the drow archers, invading their orifices in an attempt to infect them.

Entangle persists. Chill Touch with Advantage: [roll0] and take [roll1]






https://i.imgur.com/ChM9I4e.jpg
Nilvae (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1887324)
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h)
Concentration: -

Maybe you are right that Kronryn would not be so presumptuous. But he may also not be so bold as to fight a spider sucker and her dumb pet. Nilvae leaves the room hurriedly, trying to close the door behind her. Hehe, wrong door. she laughs at the drow elites.

Disengage, open door and move out. If possible close the door, but I think that's not in the budget.

[RandomWombat]

The Guard Post

A cloud of spires sails around the heads of the gnomes, moving in a spiral pattern to swarm around the drow like biting flies. He whips his long, luxurious white hair around, the resultant wind blowing them away as if in a painted advertisement for hair care products. Grabbing onto the fungal growths encasing them, the drow start to peel and tear themselves free. One of them is having a hard time getting a good grip, however, and struggles in vain.


Inside the guard post, a bolt from above catches Buppido's foe off guard, thudding into his neck. It's unclear if it hit any arteries, the bolt stopping any catastrophic bleeding on its own. That is until Derendil's claw swipe catches on the bolt and yanks it out, sending a fountain of blood spraying through the room. The creature drops like a sack of bricks.

Cells

...

The Shrine

Slipping out of the shrine, Nilvae-as-Kronryn closes the door behind her in the junior priestess' face, moving too quickly for she or the spider to attack again. Outside he finds Borthan locked in an intense duel with the elite drow warrior.

The rather unamused priestess swings the door open, kicking it with her foot and glaring at the false drow. She raises her holy symbol, "I beseech you, baleful light of the Abyss, mark this interloper for death!" Eerie purple light glows from the symbol and a bolt of energy rams into Nilvae's chest, leaving her feeling ill. Trails of light continue to wrap around her, and she sees highlighted marks upon her most vulnerable spots, glowing even through her illusion.

The Commons

...

Stool casts Chill Touch on Drow Warrior, but misses.
Nilvae exits the shrine and closes the door behind her. I'll let her just use 5 feet of movement to close the door after opening it with use item.
Sarith shoots Quaggoth for a 14 damage sneak attack, nearly taking it down.
Derendil slashes at I assume the badly damaged Quaggoth, dealing 8 damage and a KO.

Drow Warriors attempt to break free of Entanglement. Two of them break free, but the third is held fast.
Asha opens the door and casts Guiding Bolt on Nilvae for 8 damage, marking her.

Eldeth and Dworic are up!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[RandomWombat]

The Guard Post

Leaning around the corner, Eldeth squeezes off a shot. When it goes wide she swiftly loads another bolt in its place and clips the quaggoth Topsy is holding on the bridge. Desperate to clear the way, Turvy repeats his previous chant, sending a trio of glowing spheres slamming into the quaggoth. The creature nearly falls to one knee, but in its last moments a feral vengeance lights up in its eyes.

Cells

Winding up with the chair to slam it into Duskryn, Dworic accidentally smacks it into the wall instead, knocking himself off balance and ruining the swing. Ront tightens his grip around the drow's throat, squeezing the breath from him as he struggles.

Laying a guiding hand upon Dworic's arm, Shuushar blesses him.

The Shrine

With Asha holding the door open, her pet spider scuttles out to sink fangs into Nilvae. The bite tears away some flesh, leaving her leg bloodied and searing with pain, but allowing very little of the poison inside. At the sight of most definitely not drow flesh in her spider's jaws. Asha smirks. "Not a rival agent then. I'm afraid that makes your life worth... significantly less, 'Kronryn'."

The Commons

Mr. Spide is set upon by the lolth-touched spider, who digs her fangs into him and injects venom. Mr. Spide twitches and then falls, before suddenly shifting into the form of a donkey as if out of nowhere, throwing the spider off. Dr. Donk's panicked rearing and braying can be heard from Nilvae's position down the hall.

Eldeth shoots with her hand crossbow, but misses.
Eldeth shoots with her bonus action Crossbow Expert attack, hitting Quaggoth for 7 damage.
Dworic reckless attacks Duskryn, but misses.
Ront advances the grapple to Restrain Duskryn.

Giant Spider bites Mr. Spide for 6 damage, and he fails to resist another 12 poison damage that KO's him. Dr. Donk emerges from the donk zone.
Giant Spider bites Nilvae for 11 damage, and 1 poison damage after making her save.
Giant Spider emerges below the bridge.

Turvy casts Magic Missile, dealing 15 damage to the bridge Quaggoth.
Shuushar casts Virtue, granting Dworic 4 temp hp.

Faedryl is up!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/785141719737958420/unknown.png
Faedryl Melad (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355900)
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

Eighth Day, Escape

With Duskryn 'tied up' by the orc - who was rapidly gaining favour with Faedryl for his adequate grappling skills - she turns to the encroaching foes, still in the tower, and with more yet on the way. Her fingers trace three elvish runes in the air in front of her, her finger trailing with gleaming orange light to momentarily construct each run in sequence before its completion. Fuel. Ignite. Persist. She joins the disparate words together with a binding circle, one made up of her own name, and with an ashen-voiced command word flames spring up beneath the feet of one of the quaggoth inside the tower. She couldn't risk setting the bridges alight, or their only route would be down, and that was no route she wished to take. With the flames now burning she gathers her strength and lashes out, aiming to shove another one of the hulking underdark 'workers' into the flames alongside its comrade.







Move: None, she's sitting pretty.
Action: Cast Create Bonfire on the quaggoth directly south of Derendil. Must make a dex save [roll0]+modifier vs DC14 or take [roll1] fire damage.
Bonus Action: Telekinetic shove on the quaggoth southeast of Derendil. Must make a strength save vs [roll2]+modifier . DC14 or be shoved back five feet, right into his friend, but more importantly the bonfire. If the shove is successful, must make a dex save [roll3]+modifier vs DC14 or take [roll4] fire damage. Don't think it'd do extra bludgeoning damage to shove them into each other though.

[RandomWombat]

The Guard Post

Summoned flames dance up from among the stones beneath the quaggoth facing Derendil, causing the creature to start hopping and dancing from foot to foot, avoiding the flares of fire. The other one still standing finds itself shoved into his dancing ally, who shoves him away into the wall out of annoyance. The annoyance turns to a brief flash of panic as the hyphae summoned by Stool start to catch fire around them, burning their fur.

While his back is turned, Buppido lunges forward onto the back of the quaggoth struggling in the flames. He digs his shiv into its chest from behind and rakes a long, bloody wound upwards while kicking off back onto the table.


On the bridge, Topsy lands a finishing blow in the quaggoth's chest, the last of its defiant strength fading as it slumps to the ground. She sets a boot against its neck and presses down, while reducing her profile to allow others to pass her. "Alright! Let's push!"

Cells

"You stupid oaf! Get off of me!" Duskryn shouts impotently as he struggles in vain against the orc's iron grip. Ront's mouth curls into a smug grin.

With no response from Faedryl about his wager, Jimjar shrugs it off and leans in to crack off another bolt at Duskryn. This time Ront turns the elf towards Jimjar, giving the gnome a clear shot to plant a poisoned bolt in his side. In spite of the poison, Duskryn continues struggling, apparently having a resistance. All the same, Jimjar quietly fistpumps at making the shot - perhaps he'd made a bet with himself instead.

The Shrine

The sounds from behind distract Borthan's opponent momentarily as he tilts his head to catch the priestess fighting 'Kronryn' in his peripheral vision. The opening allows Borthan to catch his balance. When the drow comes for him again, the ranger is ready, fending off both blades fluidly one after the other.

The Commons

Spinning around in a panic, the donkey in the commons kicks back at the spider, but his hooves sail too high to make contact with the arachnid.

Faedryl casts Create Bonfire, then shoves one quaggoth into the other. It will do some small bludgeoning damage, halved between them, even though they made their saves against the fire. The 1 damage will be rounded off onto the shovee, while the other is fine.
The bonfire ignites the Entangle terrain, dealing 5 fire damage to each quaggoth and 1 failed death save to the downed one as it burns off. (Brown rectangle is burned area, which will expand but not double back on itself)

Duskryn tries and fails to break free of the grapple.

Buppido stabs bonfire Quaggoth for a 16 damage sneak attack, and an unarmed strike for 1 damage.

Drow Elite attacks Borthan twice with his shortsword and dagger, but both miss.

Jimjar sneak attacks Duskryn for 14 damage, but Duskryn passes his Con save.
Topsy stabs Quaggoth for 5 damage, scoring a KO, and uses her bonus action to stomp it for 2 failed death saves.
Dr. Donk makes two hoof attacks at Giant Spider, which miss.

Borthan is up!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[purepolarpanzer]

https://i.imgur.com/RtdRlRo.jpg
Borthan Zuek (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2355472)
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 15/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

After deflecting both of the drow officer's blows, Borthan continued to test his defenses. If Borthan knew the definition of the word "ironic" he would consider it so that he had been locked in a hole in the rock for more than a week now and it was HIS endurance that was lasting longer in this fight. Then again, his wounds were mostly flesh wounds, while the first two blows he had landed on the officer would have been enough to end most. He darted forward with his right hand, attempting to skewer a lightly armored limb and possibly disarm his opponent. Reversing his grip on his blade in one swift motion, the second blow came from the left and was all muscle, trying to bury deep in the male's side in a killing blow.





If I manage to kill the officer with one attack, I will shift my Hunter's Prey, move, and my second attack will be against the giant spider menacing Nilvae. If he survives both blows, I unforunately will not be able to come to Nilvae's aid this turn. If the officer dies, either way I will be moving up to support Nilvae. Attack 1-[roll0] to hit and [roll1] damage, plus [roll2] from Hunter's Mark. Second attack- [roll3] to hit and [roll4] damage (-2 if it against a spider), plus [roll5] for Hunter's Mark. Just in case I crit here's the extra damage- [roll6] . If the officer survives both attacks, Borthan will circle around him to try to make sure a giant spider or drow warrior doesn't stab Bort in the butt.

[RandomWombat]

The Guard Post

Expertly would be a strong word. But with the honed reflexes of a predator, the quaggoth stuck inside Faedryl's spell springs to and fro out of the way of the gushing flames, delivering a vengeful slash to Buppido that knocks the corrupted dwarf off balance. A second claw lashes out at Derendil, but deflects off of his shield.

The other quaggoth pats out smouldering spots on his hide, and lunges at Derendil. With his other arm, the prince conjures a second shield, this one of force, to deflect a claw. The second claw however reaches past his guard, plunging towards his chest as if to dig into his very heart - only to stop inches away from his flesh. A rippling field of energy flares and deflects the claw, flickering and shimmering as much of its power is expended in the effort.

Cells

...

The Shrine

Finding an opening after he parries one of the drow's blades, Borthan rams his sword through his opponent's arm. The drow does not cry out, or scream, or snarl. His body finally cannot withstand any more, and collapses in shock, sliding off of Borthan's blade.

Seeing Nilvae in trouble, he leaps over the body and thrusts his weapon into the spider gnawing at a piece of her leg.

The Commons

...

Borthan strikes Drow Elite for 15 damage and a KO, then moves Hunter's Mark and hits the Giant Spider for 10 damage.

Quaggoth claws at Buppido for 9 damage, and misses Derendil. He saves against the Bonfire.
Quaggoth claws at Derendil twice, one deflected by a Shield spell and the other hitting for 7 damage, absorbed by the Arcane Ward.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith, and Stool are up!

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

[Amnestic]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/561287824964452363/787390886740885534/unknown.png
Sarith Kzerkarit (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2359743)
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: --


Eighth Day, Escape

Where exactly the fire had come from Sarith doesn't know. Faedryl, perhaps, or one of the other prisoners. Regardless of who or what has caused it, it seems to be posing no threat to Sarith currently or iminently, so he'll simply take advantage of it while it's there and worry about it later. He darts out looses yet another bolt from his crossbow, before disappearing again. Whatever else happened, everyone else would be extremely softened up by the time this was all over - except for him, of course.


Move: Scoot round, shoot the quaggoth in the middle, then retreat.
Action: Attack: [roll0] Advantage from hiding: [roll]1d20+8)[9] Damage: [roll1]+ [roll2] sneak attack

Bonus Action: Cunning Action: Hide. [roll3] Disadvantage due to exhaustion: [roll4]