Fallen gods of the shattered world (Team 2)

[Zalphier]

In one corner of the battlefield, under the unmoving broken moon and red sun behind it, you all awaken to very alien feelings and sensations. Bones and muscle ache and there is the unmistakable thud of a beating heart in each chest, as the lot of you clamber up on shaking legs. Some even have the misfortune of having to scale small craters or crevices before being on the same level as the others. Looking about at the land framed by the red sky all can see the scores of bodies scattered about and sometimes in heaping piles, all with arms and armor blackened and damaged similarly to your own. The battle that had taken place here had to be truly grand in scale, and yet there was no clear winner. The different regalia and sigils among the scorched armor hinted at numerous different origins, but the scattered memories of your minds offered no clarity or answers, only more painful questions.

And what was recalled? Each of you were certain you were a god or at least a god like being, and there was this great battle. The sound of glass shattering and then falling but in all directions, and finally... you're where you are now, with a very mortal feeling body. Looking beyond the immediate turmoil and devastation however yielded roughly three different paths for any other direction simply continued into the seemingly endless sea of bodies.

To the North and north west were thick forest, although the northern one seemed to have a bit of a fire going on while far enough west were a steady string of beings staggering away from the battlefield.

Due west, the forest gave way to foothills that were currently bathed in a localized storm. Pounding rain and howling wind had the long grass reeling like sea waves, and the regular crack of lightning could be seen as well.

Finally to the south west, the land flattened more to a grassy plain. Yet the red tinted green fields were pocketed by blackened scorch marks from large gouts of flame that sporadically erupted from the ground, like a geyser of fire.

Let's begin!

[Alhallor]

He opened his eyes.

That alone felt weird, because he never realized that he had eyes before, nor a body... And that weird beating thing inside of him was also new. At first he wanted to rip it out of it's chest but the realization that he had a body now was a bit too much to keep all the unusual things blaring to his Attention straight.

After some good minutes where he had sorted through some stuff he try'd to move. At first he was flopping in a crater he landed on but it was easier than he thought getting his limbs working. There was some lingering memory of him trying out a body, that helped him now. When he stumbled out of the crater and lay'd eyes on the shattered world memories came storming back to him.

It wasn't clear what exactly happened but he had definitely lost it's power... Perhaps like the others that awoke beside him. He felt an alien feeling connecting them with himself, perhaps by them also now having these clunky and unusual bodies. Or perhaps because it felt like they too had these weird beating things inside they're chests that seem to act as one. He took a look around himself and looked at the others that had fallen beside him and the paths that had opened up to them.

Greetings fellow fallen. I Think I am or was, the Winter... I will find out what these beings are that seem to get away from us and then we will decide what to do. He closed his eyes and wanted to transform in a raging snowstorm to blow through these beings to learn of they're capabilitiesÂ… But it seemed that didn't work. He also try'd to let his view jump to a cold place surrounding themÂ… But that too seemed to be unavailable. At least he decided to find out who or what these beings were by foot, to come back with new information to his fellow fallen.

I try to go west to these string of beings and find out what these beings are, at best without knocking over a hill of body's.

Stealth: [roll0]
Perception: [roll1] Or 12 whichever is higher

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan arose, taking a breath before looking around. Grabbing a hammer from one of the fallen, and searched for armor to wear. "Fools. You have naught but cleared the canvas, my forge's fire is not been quenched." The dark feline proweled around closely gathering up what supplies he could muster before looking to the others. "I am Vulcan of the forge. I take it you are not my enemy."

[Celticbear]

This could not be- the voices were silenced. The voices never should have been silenced, for they were the voices keeping the Dreamer dreaming. As long as the Dreamer dreamt of the world, it would not fall. But the world had fallen, and the voices of the nightmares keeping the Dreamer drowsy were gone in an instant.

Things were crawling out with him, with the Pharoah. He could tell they were things because he knew mortals, and they were not them. He clutched his staff to his chest, but quickly found that it was not his staff at all. It was a stick, a rotten wooden thing. He silently cursed before focusing inward. Should these Godlings find out his purpose, his trueness, he did not know how they would react. He would not chance his survival, and possibly the world's, on assumptions.

He took on the guise of one of the soldiers. Armor battered, face bloodied. He coughed as he straightened himself. He made his way towards Winter and Vulcan, and exulted, "My Lords! Mighty patrons, I beseech your aid! I have been fighting... far too long have I been fighting... we must flee this place- regroup! The enemy... enemies... they might be near..."

Casting disguise self and bluffing

Deception: [roll0]

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Uuuugh..."

A halfling woman reaches to grasp her cracked shield and pulls herself up from what was surely an epic faceplant. Her green and gold tunic is burned and tattered enough that her leather armor is clearly visible underneath, itself missing half of the rivets holding it together. She makes some adjustments so that it doesn't outright fall apart on her, and at the same time accounts for her hidden cloak without making a big fuss over it. It's only sensible for someone to put away their cloak rather than trip on it in battle, after all.

Of course, she's keeping it hidden for a reason. She knows who she is. She barely remembers anything else, and in a sensible world it would only serve as evidence that she's concussed beyond repair, but she knows nonetheless, because she is herself. Based on this, she might even go so far as to guess that Snowy Elf and Blacksmith Cat are in the same situation as she. A random soldier wouldn't have much basis for that theory, though. Much less would one try to bully their own gods with talk of an unseen enemy.

Rather than call out a fellow charlatan on the spot, she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and... wow, that smell is not good. She startles and finally seems to wake up to the scene around her. Priorities, Yondalla.

"Okay, I think I see the beings you're talking about!" she shouts to Winter over the approaching rain and thunder. She's purposely ignoring the beseeching panic-monger for now. "Are we going after them, or are we searching for more survivors?"

[Zalphier]

Nothing visible save for the standing four move among the dead. To the north east, the fires continue to rage, though what might be noticed now would be the distinct lack of smoke rising from the shimmering trees. The line of beings continue their silent march onward, disappearing out of sight as they delve deeper into the woods. More directly due east, the storm continues to rage about the hills with the rain coming down in just as vicious sheets as before and south of that more fire geysers continue to erupt.

Winter and Yondalla: As Winter approaches and crouches behind a fair pile of bodies, he is allowed an uninterrupted view of the now distinct humanoid races staggering off into the woods, as does Yondalla when she gets close enough and both remain unseen and unnoticed by the observed. Among them are mostly dwarves, humans, halflings, and gnomes with a smaller mix of other, even monstrous races. Nearly all of them carry some form of injury and some struggle to bear their burden alone, but plenty are also sharing the weight of leaving the field. Perhaps the most notable of this being an orc pulling what remained of a wagon loaded with those too wounded to stand while a quartet of dwarves held up one side of an axel where the wheel was missing.

Still others seemed to have given up entirely, sitting or lying in slumps off to the side of the path, looking hollow and lost.

Nyarlathotep: The guise would have you looking well in place among those not moving and the ones that were. And while how they reacted would be up to them, the loud proclamations did seem to have another effect. The single finger that twitched at first may have gone unnoticed, but the blackened, almost skeletal hand weakly grasping at your ankle certainly wouldn't.

Vulcan: The dead offer no resistance to their arms and armor being removed, though occasionally a part will linger and have to be removed individually. Among the parts and pieces that were still serviceable you managed to find a fairly decent mixed haul. Few if any duplicates, the ranged weapons would need to be restrung, and all of it appears fragile enough that a bad enough strike could render it unusable, but it was still better than nothing.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Yondalla huddles next to Winter in his hiding spot to watch the procession for a moment, then taps his shoulder and points to some of the wounded being left behind. "Let's go talk to them."

She approaches one of the despondent and examines them before offering to help them up, making sure she won't just end up breaking their spine in the process. Standard practice for a rank-and-file halfling acolyte, she imagines. "Come on, it's alright. I can hold you up if you can tell me where we're going." She proceeds slowly with her first patient, preoccupied as she is with the other listless survivors scattered about. "Sorry, I think I took a blow to the head... What happened? Why is half the moon gone?"

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan didn't pay any mind to the others standing about viewing the battlefield or otherwise freaking out. Even with him thrown to the earth, he was a man of focus, already amassing pieces he needed for warfare once more. Using the split mail, he worked most of it onto his body, despite it being a little too lose or a little to tight in areas, it would have to do to help out. A dagger, a spear, a light hammer, a rapier, a trident, a warhammer, a hand axe. Most of the other stuff strapped onto what he could fashion into a backpack with the straps and belts of the fallen. Approaching Winter and Yolanda "I don't know who you are, but I suggest you find what you can. Whatever war we were in seems to have been ransacked by something else."

[Alhallor]

Winter wasn't really pleased with Yondalla's suggestion but he would not fight her over this.

Are you sure we should shackle ourselves to these mortals? We wouldn't be able to move freely with them in tow. But I'll yield for now, perhaps we can find a town and from there on more Information.

Winter returned to Vulcan. There was another feeling stirring inside him again. Fear? Camaraderie? Whatever it was it would need to examined later. We will try following the wounded for now. Perhaps they will bring us to a town or something. Perhaps you can then get something out of all thatÂ… rare material. When a soldier stumbled out from the mass of bodies Winter approached him and lay'd a hand on Nyarlahoteps shoulder. The enemies are gone for now. Follow us and you can get to safety. But instead of removing his hand he stared transfixed at it. An immense feeling of loss washed over him and he asked Nyarlahotep, without really hoping for an answer. You haven't found a ring, have you?

[Celticbear]

"No ring, no direction. Can barely focus..." Nyarlathotep looked despondent and fazed, until a hand grasped at his ankle. He raised his staff, currently disguised to look like a longsword, and plunged it down at his skeletal aggressor. He did this multiple times, seemingly flying into a rage.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Medicine (for triage and to examine the wounds of the despondent): [roll0]

Persuasion (to rally them and get them to talk): [roll1]

"Yondalla," the halfling medic says to Vulcan with a nod, "and yeah, no kidding. I'm okay for now, though. You work on that while I tend to these here." Then to Winter, "shackle is a weird word for it. Say you wake up in a house full of people. Are you more free if you lock yourself in the pantry?"

Of course, that's not to say Winter should talk to them if he doesn't want to. The others go do their thing while Yondalla stays and does hers.

She touches her shield and mends its cracks, reassembling the faded image of her overflowing basket. "This isn't the end, everyone," she says to the mortals that seem to have given up. "We have all lost a great deal, but for the sake of Life, we go on." Once she has the mortals' attention, she raises her hand to bless and heal them as a group.

1. Mending on her shield, mostly for flavor text and to make it more believable as a holy symbol. Could she just do that for everyone's armor and weapons? She'll probably start trying that when she doesn't have so many other priorities.

2. Preserve Life on as many despondent, wounded mortals as she can get together. The division of HP depends on how many there are, but hopefully it will get them reinvigorated and back on their feet.

[Zalphier]

Yondalla: The vacant stare of the first human simply sitting on the sidelines doesn't flinch, change, or even blink as she addresses him. As she tries to help him to his feet, there's no strength at all and he falls limply forward. There's not even a reaction whether she catches him or lets his face fall to the scorched ground. Her brief medical examination would reveal some cuts, scrapes, and bruises, but nothing that would be fatal. When she turns to address the others sitting along the side, the way they mirror this behavior is almost eerie. Even in the face of her use of the mending spell which is required multiple times for each piece of the equipment given the extent of the damage, and her healing magic that would easily be able to reach a dozen of the sitting, their glassy eyed vacant stares fail to even acknowledge her.

"Please do not waste your time with the broken," a strained voice says to her. The young elf it came from lacked much of the stereotypical grace and beauty in this hellish aftermath, hair singed and cut, a nasty black eye among his battered face, and one arm hung loosely at his side laced with blood. "There's so many who need it more, and would be grateful for it," he said pleadingly while pointing to a clearing where rows of injured who'd been drug from the battlefield groaned or cried on the unscarred grass. Some had already stopped moving, and a few of these had helmets or whatever was available pulled down over their faces.

Winter, Vulcan, and Nyarlathotep: Nyarlathotep's stab pierces through the scorched limb, breaking off pieces of ash and dust instead of flesh or blood with ease. The repeated attacks do much the same until the offending limb is reduced to nothing more than a blackened stump and a few piles of ashy dust. Seconds later there would be a high pitched, hollow sounding howl carried on a sudden viscous wind that whipped through the three of you, followed by an eerie silence.

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan let out a low sigh, as he looked over the direction Winter pointed at, with the dwarves and orc trying to move the three wheeled cart. Trash. The cart was trash. They were spending so much time and effort trying to move it, that could have been used for practically anything else. They needed a wheel. He ignored the person freaking out and stabbing dead charred bodies. He wasn't someone who forged minds, but iron and other metals. He looked through the shields he gathered for any big enough and round enough that they could be used to make a makeshift wheel until the cart was brought to a place he could work on it more.

Of course there was also the halfling's shield, that needed more than magic to repair, and his own gear. The other man didn't seem to carry much at the moment, and the crazy one, was... well crazy.

[Alhallor]

Winter let the newcomer vent his frustration for now, but the charred bones were concerning. Come with us for a moment. For now we will protect you and the others. He try'd to pull Nyarlahotep away for now, towards the others. When the howling is heard he quickens his pace and tells his companions. There may be survivors from the less harmless side. We should safe the one we can and may need to cut our losses.

Winter was actually deeply concerned about these broken ones. He could be merciless and uncaring but he never was unfeeling like those ones.

He quickly gathered one nearly broken sword up to complete his attire, that wasn't much to begin with. A grey shirt much like his muddy hair hangs loosely on his haggard body and his pants seem more like a sack with two holes in it. He moves gracefully almost dreamily but sometimes still stumbles when he forgets to concentrate on walking.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

The young elf seems to know what he's talking about, for better or worse. Whatever happened to the broken isn't something she can fix that easily. Yondalla has another spell she could try, but given that there are some people still physically bleeding out, these ones will just have to continue waiting patiently for now.

"Alright, let's get to work," she says to the elf on the way to the moaning wounded. "Of course, I'd appreciate some assistance. Can you walk?"

I'm not sure how many checks I should roll, or whether the NPC is helpful enough to give advantage or what. I guess I'll roll 4 medicine checks and let you decide what to do with them?

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

She's also willing to use her first-level spell slots on cure wounds when mundane healing won't cut it.

[Celticbear]

Nyarlathotep is silent. Emotion was weakness, or so he preached, and he wouldn't be a slave to it. He simply stood to the side, uncaring of the wounded or mortals around him. He needed to think, to plan. If he had nothing in mind for how to deal with the strange phenomenon that had severed his connection with Azathoth, he was as good as doomed.

Then the howling. It was a curious thing, a predator? Something worse? He couldn't say. He stood vigil, clutching his illusory sword close. He gritted his teeth, visibly shaking under false pressure.

[Zalphier]

Vulcan: Trudging ahead of Winter and still standing Nyarlathotep to catch up to the cart, you do manage to find the only round shield in your bunch that is still mostly round. It's a bit smaller than the other wheels, but it's at least round and would keep the wagon moving. Your purposeful approach catches the dwarves off guard at first and they start to huddle up looking defensive, but they catch on quickly when they see the round shield. "Hol' up there Burl," one of them calls to the Orc who's all to quick to stop and sit, taking a break from hauling the heavy wagon. Meanwhile the dwarves rearrange themselves away from the axel and as one lift the side of the wagon high so the shield could be easily mounted.

"Thank ya lad," the same one says through his long salt and pepper beard, though whether that was the actual color or just the ash was hard to tell. "Can't say I saw you on ya field, what's your name?"

Nyarlathotep and Winter: Winter put too much distance between himself and Nyarlathotep to even have a chance at hearing the hollow and chilling voice ask "where" in Nyarlathotep's ear, but he would be able to see the ash starting to move along the ground as if a wind was blowing it despite not feeling even a slight breeze. They however both hear the string of different voices that came next in growing volume. "Can't find the way! Where? I'm lost! Where? I don't know! Where!?" coming in rapid succession from all around them, and growing in volume as the ash began to encircle each of them. Yet within this slowly growing vortex, something stirred within each of them before a final plea was asked. "Help?"

Both of you happen to recall something from your times as divine beings. The traditional funeral rites and what was done to lay a spirit to rest in your respective realms.

Yondalla: Despite the injuries, the young elf does what he can to help, bringing around medical supplies, helping hold down a struggling patient, and it all more than serves it's purpose as you manage to stabilize several of the wounded. "I heard you earlier saying you'd hit your head and wasn't sure what was going on? So you don't remember this battle at all? The ritual? The cult of Xanathos?" He asks as a start to conversation while you come to one particularly close to death patient. There is no option other than to attempt saving him with magic. The elf seems to recognize this too and he looks at you expectantly. "You still have magic, don't you?" He asks earnestly while his good arm fiddles with a silver holy symbol you don't recognize.

There are 2 people who could possibly be saved with the use of a cure wounds, but otherwise they've lost too much blood and simply stabilizing them will only give them minutes more.

At everyone! After Yondalla finishes dealing with the last of the patients as she chooses and Vulcan manages to get the improvised wheel mounted (again if he chooses), there is a bit of a clamor from the survivors who are pointing back towards the battlefield they just left, panic rising in their mumbled words. They point and quickly move further away from the forms of Winter and Nyarlathotep who at first were in the middle of their own individual softly swirling vortexes of ash and distorted cries, but now stood on either side as the swirling clouds of ash coalesce between them. The black and grey coals spark with life and fire again until it all suddenly explodes outwards. Standing now in the epicenter is an ashen skinned humanoid, save for the jagged red lines where embers still burn. The hollow black eyes ignite with this same fire as it lets out a piercing wail that sounds like it's from a dozen different voices at once.


- For this first fight, and probably most fights, I'm only going to really worry about initiative rolls for whether my monster(s) or the players go first, and since this guy had such a drawn out intro, I'll go ahead and say the four of you can have the first set of actions.
- Nyarlathotep and Winter I will need a Dex save to see if you're caught in the ash cloud explosion. Please make those in the OOC chat as well prior to your posts. DC15.

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan works the shield into place the best he can with what improvised tools he is able to use, unless there was any tools he'd be able to get. "This should assist for now, until we can design a better wheel. " Letting out a sigh a the creature stood up, he gave his work another look over. "Do try not to be rough with it. I need my forge.." He muttered the last line before starting to move towards the creature. Without proper tools, he was lacking in some abilities. He drew and slung out the javelin at the creature hurling it through the air. "Blasted Harpy embers. Cease your shrieking."



[roll0]
If over 30 feet but under 120 feet away, at disadvantage [roll1]

[roll2] piercing damage.

[Alhallor]

Winter heard the whispers of the fallen, he was struck by what have to be done and there were so many… So many… And it seems they were all so angry. When the ashen cloud formed and exploded outward he was still way to struck to react in time and missed his chance to protect himself. Before the dead could be layd to rest, it seemed they had to be pacified first.

He know what he had to do and it seemed his body reacted almost as if controlled by another one and not by himself when he gave the ashen monster a quick stab with his sword only to whirl around to give it a swift kick where it's head was supposed to be. Whirling around more dust while he spinned around.

Standard Action: attack [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Bonus Action: attack [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Yondalla had already resolved to use her cure spells when needed; she didn't even need to be asked. "It's true," she tells the elf. "None of what you just said even rings a bell. I'm just grateful I didn't lose my faith along with my memory." She notices his holy symbol - another cleric, and probably of a friend given his apparent disposition. "Do you-"

Her question is interrupted by an explosion, and by more survivors pushing past, and by the sudden appearance of a burning undead elemental someone-or-other.

Before anyone has a chance to notice or question it, Yondalla has a loaded sling in her hands and is launching a bullet at the enemy. One assumes the sling was on her to begin with, but she may well have lifted it from one of her fallen kin. After all, it is sometimes said that a halfling wouldn't be caught dead without one.

I imagine that she's farther away from the cinder than everyone else, and further imagine that her short legs wouldn't get her into the action in one round. Winter is providing more than enough distraction for her to bonk it with a sneak attack, though.

Attack! [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Sneak Attack: [roll2]

Her actions are effectively:
1. Move up slightly to get in range (next to a medium-sized corpse, which should be in easy supply)
2. Attack
3. Hide (rogue bonus action, assumes the halfling ability to hide behind medium creatures applies to even the dead)

She huffs and takes cover behind one of the dead and motions her assistant to do the same, though the elf might be a bit too big to stay hidden that way. "Is that what we were fighting? I don't recognize it, either..."

[Zalphier]

The explosive entrance of the ashen dead catches both Winter and the soldier, sending the latter back into the piles of bodies where he became indiscernible from the countless others. While the javelin fell short and the sling bullet bounced off the creature's shield, Winter's blade found a hole in the creature's armor and managed to stab into the burnt body, a small series of sparks erupting from the new wound. The creature recoiled with a hiss from the following kick that dislodged the blade, but neither wounds seemed to deter it as the ashen dead brought it's own blade about first in a downward slash and then across in a horizontal one.


Attack 1 = [roll0]
Dmg = [roll1]
Attack 2 = [roll2]
Dmg = [roll3]


With Winter right in front of it, the Ashen dead paid no mind to Yondalla or Vulcan for the moment.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

While the ashen warrior is focused on attacking, Yondalla slips to another position to shoot from an unexpected angle.

Stealth to hide and gain advantage: [roll0]

Attack: [roll1]
If successfully gained advantage: [roll2]

Damage: [roll3]
Sneak Attack (happens either way since Winter is still adjacent): [roll4]

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan grumbled at the quality of the weapons he had access to. He moved in a bit closer, preferring still to hurl things at the monster than to charge in and battle it hand to hand. If only he had some more time to properly setting up his equipment. He pulled out a trident this time hurling it at the beasty. "Blood and sand. This thing still stands? Perhaps the weapon of the sea will cool you down." He growls before hurling the trident next.



[roll0]
if not withing 20 feet, would be at disadvantage [roll1]
[roll2] piercing damage.

[Alhallor]

Winter danced around the attacks of the ashen one like a snowflake that a child wanted to catch. He felt an inner focus while he evaded the attacks of his enemy and decided to use it.

He let his sword bite from right to the left, used the ensuing momentum to jump in the air and kick the Monster in the stomach. He landed again before the ashen one and while landing his ellbow came crashing down towards the head of his adversary.

I use one ki point to make two unarmed attacks as a Bonus Action instead of one.
Attack with Sword. [roll0]
Damage [roll1]
Unarmed 1 [roll2]
Damage 1 [roll3]
Unarmed 2 [roll4]
Damage 2 [roll5]

[Zalphier]

Where the javelin had fallen short, the trident now overshot the ashen dead and instead imbedded itself into another corpse just beyond it.

Aside from having to watch her footing amongst the corpses, Yondalla would have little trouble hiding from the creature not paying much or any mind to her as she lined up her sling's shot. This time the bullet found purchase and slammed into the ashen dead's shoulder, but the monster aside from physically being forced forward showed no reaction aside from the similar expulsion of cinders and sparks.

As Winter brought his blade about for another slash, the Ashen dead not only lifted its shield but slammed it out against blade, breaking it off at a weak point just above the guard. Despite the possibly impressive feat, that only left the ashen dead open for the powerful kick. The following elbow though still only clashes against the Ashen dead's bulwark before it stabs forward with its own blade. Then it deftly twists the blade about so it can unleash a vicious upward slash.


Attack 1:[roll0]
DMG:[roll1]
Attack 2:[roll2]
DMG:[roll3]

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Okay, well, the monster doesn't seem to feel pain and its hide is apparently hard enough to literally break a sword against in some places, but that sling bullet definitely made it spill some kind of elemental goo. What it Yondalla cuts a hole big enough to let it all flow out?

After these last two rounds of moving from cover to cover, she should be close enough to run in and test that theory once its back is turned.

Draw Hornblade and Hastily Mended Shield and run up to flank and attack!

Attack: [roll0]
(advantage?: [roll1])

Damage: [roll2]
Sneak Attack (again, happens regardless as long as Winter is adjacent): [roll3]

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan drew the light hammer next, hurling it. He preferred to use a slightly ranged combat style, but as it was he just couldn't seem to get the bead on the beastly.



[roll0]
[roll1] b damage.

[Alhallor]

When Winter came down he looked befuddled at his sword that just had broken in twain. His surprise left him open for another attack of the ashen warrior but at least it gave him enough quickness of mind to avoid the next attack. Though it didn't look good. His companions fought valiantly, but he should use the focus that the ashen seemed to have towards him to his advantage.

Winter let his sword fall and just gave the ashen a quick jab in the face and then studied his movements exclusively to avoid more attacks from it.

One attack. [roll0]
Damage [roll1]
And use another ki point to use Dodge as a bonus Action to give him disadvantage against all of his attacks against me.

[Zalphier]

Vulcan's hammer did manage to reach the Ashen dead, but it meekly bounced off the creature's armor while Yondalla sprinted forward to drive her blade into the monster's back. Now it may have been the combination of attacks from behind the Ashen dead, it could have been because the quick jab that Winter threw hit only open air, but reason aside the Ashen dead looked back over its shoulder. The embers that served as eyes originally skimmed over her before lowering to spy the halfling. With a hiss the Ashen dead spun about, bringing it's cruel blade about in a diagonal slash before following it up with a potent stab.


Attack 1: [roll0]
DMG: [roll1]
Attack 2: [roll2]
DMG: [roll3]

By the way, yes, both Yondalla and Winter have advantage due to flanking, and I think I'm going to try and put together quick maps for this and following battles if I can. Might have to wait until I'm home though.

[Alhallor]

And then the thing... Ran away? Winter was positively furious a feeling he didn't anticipated. He ran quickly again towards the thing, to keep pressure away from Yondalla, jumping towards the ashen one the last few missing feet to let one of his fists hammer down at the thing, quickly followed by another kick towards it's torso.

I don't know if the thing disengaged as an action or has other possibility's to avoid an AoO but in case it didn't I think I get another attack?
Disengage attack? (without Advantage) [roll0]
Damage [roll1]
Normal attack (with Advantage) [roll2]
[roll3]
Damage [roll4]
Bonus Action attack (with Advantage) [roll5]
[roll6]
Damage [roll7]

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan was running out of weapons he could throw. Which was pretty annoying that every one of them had some flaw. They were bent, or twisted just slightly that his aim was constantly off. He pulled out the dagger next to throw at the beasty.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

The monster is strong, but Yondalla is a small target. She ducks under the diagonal slash and lets it potently stab the ground, giving the other fighters time to pepper this fire-doofus with knives and air combos.

The Ashen is caught off-guard by the first punch of Winter's assault and turns to parry the rest, only to be bamboozled again by Vulcan throwing garbage at it. Yondalla takes advantage of this opening with another stab upwards.

Attack: [roll0]
Advantage: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Sneak Attack: [roll3]

[Zalphier]

Just as Winter goes to punch the back of the Ashen dead's head, Vulcan's dagger finds purchase and buries itself deep into the creatures skull with a fresh plume of fiery sparks. It starts to fall to its knees only to impale itself all the more on Yondalla sword thrust. As it continues to go limp, the body begins to dissipate back into the ash that had formed it to begin with. All three of you can hear the soft and hollow sounds of cries of anguish and pain that gradually grow weaker until almost disappearing completely with the last of the body, but the voices aren't gone entirely. They still linger there on the battlefield, murmuring and whispering as if waiting for something to happen.

Far from the battlefield though there is the sparse chorus of a few applause. Still lingering on the sidelines, near some of the still unresponsive broken, stand a small collection of survivors giving applause for the vanquishing of a monster on the eve of a terrible battle and most are waving all three of you over.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Yondalla lets out a sigh of relief before looking over to the panicked man from before. He was just a random soldier after all, and apparently one who really had an enemy to worry about. Dead, now. It's no one's fault, but she can't help but feel guilty for ignoring him earlier.

With a nod to her two godly teammates, she heads back to the survivor group, the elf medic presumably among them. "Well, that was something. I still can't remember at all, though. Were those what we were fighting before?"

[Triskavanski]

"I don't know." Vulcan replies, quickly going about gathering up the weapons he threw. "Come we need to move on, there are more on their way I'm certain of it." Once his weapons were regathered, he moved on his way back to the cart. He certainly wasn't going to stand around waiting for more of them to arrive. To the dwarves and Orc "Lets go, get what we can away from here before another appears. I'll help where I can but until I can find some proper tools, my options are lacking." He wanted to get wherever this group was trying to head to, in hopes he could begin to rebuild his forge and fix the impurities of the weapons and armor he had.

[Alhallor]

Winter felt cut and bruised some of his blood was nourishing the soil but it seemed that it already had enough of this kind of nourishment. He still heard the death cry and plead and though it would be safer to return to his godly companions he felt that he still had a duty.

It seemed that his zither had survived the fall. A insecure smile had fallen on his face and he try'd to ignore what was going around him and play'd a somber tune. More an occasional note, that filled the air than a piece of music.

[roll0] with charisma I guess?

Despite how his performance goes his lips escape some words.

You have battled and fought my dear comrades.
Have bleed and cry'd my dear comrades.
It's time for your souls to rest now my dear comrades.
See you in the next life my dear comrades.
When you have finally rested my dear comrades.

Without warning tears streamed down from Winter's face, but he led them flow while the last tunes hang in the air and some of the dead began to get covered by a thin sheet of snow.

Goodbye my dear comrades.

He stayed another moment and then returned to his companions.

I fear I couldn't do more. The field of battle seems far too massive for me alone. At least I could help the ones here.

Winter would try to go into a light jog, circling the survivors trek to be aware of any disturbances that might occur.

[Zalphier]

Yondalla: Yondalla would find the cleric near the bodies they'd been tending to so recently, a mace still clenched loosely in a hand that'd let the weapon lower to his side after the creature was vanquished. He shakes his head, "No, I've never seen a creature such as that before. The battle was between the mortal races, not monsters aside from those summoned by magics. Thank you though, the thought of possibly having to leave these poor souls to their fate was haunting me before I'd even considered it," he added while sliding the mace back into a belt frog. Walking back over to the bodies, the elf kneels back down by the wounded and starts to change out some soaked bandages.

"My name's Gregor by the way. Perhaps a bit off for an elvish name, but I was raised in the temple far from the elvish lands. What about you?" He asked at last, although somewhat distractedly as his attention got pulled to Winter and the performance he was giving. Once it finished, he faced Yondalla once again but looking much more shaken than he'd been a moment ago. Gregor slowly drew himself up to standing. "I can continue the funerary rites after you all leave," he offered.

Vulcan: The dwarves and Orc had also hung back and prepared themselves for a fight as each dwarf had a weapon in hand, with half of them bearing shields as well while the orc having not found a worthwhile weapon held a fair sized log that'd easily serve as a potent club. "Good show lad, but aye, we'd best be off while the way looks clear. There's a village we're headin to just past this forest. Yer welcome ta join us on the way," he added while holding out a rough calloused hand. It would be around that time that Winter's performance reached their ears. Even the cart slowed to a stop for a minute as the mournful tune wove its way through the crowd.

When it finished, the lead dwarf whistled at the orc and motioned to a spot on the ground. Burl looked confused for a moment and motioned to the log he carried before getting a nod. Then Burl stepped up to the edge of the battlefield and drove the stick into the ground deep enough that it remained standing. Then each of the dwarves followed suit walking up to the marker and placing an item at it's base before giving it a short bow and moving back to the cart which Burl looked ready to push again. "I'm Durvan, that's Burl, and these are Borwer, Mernkov, and Ardni. And you?"

Winter: While the intent might have just been a scattering of notes to break the silence, the silence served only to string the echoing sounds together along with his words. Then the first of the snow started to fall, melting quickly or hissing into steam if they touched a still smoldering spot, but the light snow's persistence won out towards the end of the song, gracing everything with a thin sheet of snow and ice that while not lasting long, seemed to have done the trick. The voices faded further, lingering as they had nowhere else to go but resting now instead of raging.

When the performance ended, a new round of applause came to him and Winter would receive several nods with a mix of expressions from relief to grief, but all had an undertone of thanks as well. Though none of the survivors seemed to pay him much mind as he started to trek into the surrounding woods, which aside from the sounds of the nearby survivors, were eerily silent.

[Triskavanski]

"Once I can reacquire my tools, I can reforge your flesh to be far less penetrated." Vulcan replies as Winter begins running around the cart. He didn't have an sentimental value of the fallen. Even broken weapons and the like where just things for him to reforge into superior equipment. If anything he missed having a forge.

Looking over the the dwarves, "I am Vulcan. I don't know what had happened here, despite apparently being involved." he shakes the dwarf's hand.

[Alhallor]

That would be appreciated Vulcan.

When Winter had circled the treck once he stays at Vulcans side for a while till he starts speaking again. Say could you make a ring? It doesn't have to be magical I just miss one so much it hurts me to the core. Perhaps I could even help with some precision work if you need cooling at the right moment for your craftsmanship. I can't be sure but it feels like I have done something like that before? Winter asks Vulcan as much as himself and Yondalla.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"It's good to meet you, Gregor," says Yondalla. "I'm... drawing a blank on my own name. I feel like it's on the tip of my tongue, but the only names I can think of are the goddess and my sister." She furrows her brow for a moment in faux concern, but recovers to brush it off and look up at Gregor again. The whole truth of the matter would be too unbelievable, especially to a cleric. "Probably related to my memory, I guess. I'm sure it's fine! You can call me Yonda for now."

She overhears parts of the nearby conversation, though the I can reforge your flesh to be less penetrated almost drives her away.

"Anyway, my place may well still be here. You're heading back to the same village as everyone else, right? We can go back together when you're done."

It's probably not hard to guess that she has an ulterior motive, but that much should be understandable. Watching a fellow cleric might jog memories about herself. If nothing else, she might be able to work out which god Gregor serves. She could just ask, but that somehow feels like cheating.

Religion: [roll0]

[Zalphier]

Vulcan and Winter: All of the dwarves given Vulcan an incredulous look to his last statement. "If that's true lad, I'd count yerself lucky. As you can probably guess twas a intense battle, what made it truly terrible though, twas the three kingdoms basically battling themselves," Durvan started to elaborate seeing as they had plenty of time with the speed of the cart though the rough and muddy path, though he did pause until Winter had sidled up with them and walked in silence before going on. "Ah don't have all the details myself, but there was this group, called themselves the disciples of ruin or somethin of the like. Real secretive bunch, all cloak and dagger cultist like, but the never seemed ta do much, so most just ignored them. Then maybe what was it, a month ago?"

"Two months!" added Merknov interjected.

"Ah, right, two months ago they all decided to throw up their hoods, pull out the daggers, and murder everyone in their way out of whatever town they were in during the night. Problem was that they were a lot bigger than anyone thought. Scores of them pouring out of towns, hundreds in the cities. Plenty of common folk sure, but also guardsmen, military, even some nobility... Friends an family too," Durvan added solemnly. "Well, we couldn't just let'em get away with that, so the three kingdoms banded together and struck out against the cult. There were a few smaller battles before, but this was the result of the final battle. Bloody nightmare ending in fire and all this," Durvan added with a regretful shake of his head

When Winter's request about a ring was added after Durvan's recount, Ardni was the first to speak up. Why're ye askin him? Sure he was good with dat shield wheel, but get me in front of a proper forge and I'll-"

"Oh and what will you do? Yer clumsy strikes'll put a lump of metal on 'is finger," Borwer chimed in with a dry chuckle, and just like that, the two were arguing back and forth about forging technique with Mernkov joining in soon as well. Durvan had his head in his hands while the bickering continued.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yondalla: Gregor still looked shaken, but he was settling down now. "No, I'm not heading for that village, there is nothing for me there anymore," he leaves off while holding the symbol aloft and giving it a brief kiss before letting it fall back against him. "There are only the wounded and those needing healing magic there and I no longer hear or feel the presence of any god. If I have lost their favor, then I will stay here till I regain it or have earned my repentance. So please, tend to those already on their way and I will see if there are any more I can start along the path. Besides, I think I see some other possible companions of yours approaching," Gregor added with a point out across the battlefield.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azzelfet and Arkhos: "Ah, goot nuff ver me, shtick closhe doh, dere be shome vereh nashtiez around 'ere" the half-orc added before leading the two deeper into the battlefield. A short walk later with an introduction that names the half-orc Viktor and the other side of the field came just barely into view as some figures could be made out fighting something. Whatever it was had just been defeated and dissipated back into ash as they started to move away. It would take the entirety of Winter's song for Viktor, Azzelfet and Arkhos to get close enough to catch the last half of it. Then Azzelfet and Arkhos would be close enough to call out and catch up to Winter and Vulcan who were walking with a wagon of wounded or Yondalla who was talking with an elf. "Dere, hyu's is ov deh battlevield und readeh for deh next. Good luck out dere. Hy got shum moar huntink to do 'ere first," Viktor says with a parting wave and stalks back out into the burnt battlefield.

[Triskavanski]

"Well, I can't say for certain. I woke up there in the middle of it. I can only assume I was in the conflict that was going on because beyond getting me being behind a forge, can't say I remember much." Vulcan says as he helps with the cart where needed. "Hells, I wouldn't even need a forge if I had some tools to use. Besides that, blood is not a proper quenching material. It smells terrible. Yes even if its the blood of your enemies. " Vulcan says as he joints in the conversation of quenching and forging techniques.

[JNAProductions]

Azzelfet nudges Arkhos. "We've company. And they look familiar, she says. "Friend orc-are those over there enemies, or allies?"

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Hm?" Yondalla looks over at the half-orcs and their new pals, Dragon Man and Fish Robot.1 "I don't recognize them... then again, I probably wouldn't even if I knew them. I'll go check them out." She stops to regard Gregor before leaving him to his work. "...Gregor, what happened here has disrupted the world in ways we haven't even begun to grasp yet. The moon is in pieces. Whatever's happening, to the earth or the gods or your magic, don't assume that any of it is your fault. Okay?"

She leaves him with that and approaches the other team of fallen stars. They certainly stand out enough to be former gods.

"Hey!" she says simply, "Do either of you two remember anything? Winter and Vulcan and I all woke up with nothing but our names."

1. Robot is a halfling word for golems and puppets and such. It's borrowed from gnomish, probably.

[ezekielraiden]

https://i.imgur.com/eRy7GqH.png
Arkhos (https://drive.google.com/file/d/19oYf7cRHtGvHGGuqkxct3tSaQfLa5P2L/view)

Azzelfet nudges Arkhos. "We've company. And they look familiar," she says.

"Aye, something stirs the memory, but with so much changed, winnowing friends from fears--or phantoms--is no easy task." He sighs, but despite the gloom, he seems hopeful. "At least we meet in peace."

"Hey!" the halfling says simply, "Do either of you two remember anything? Winter and Vulcan and I all woke up with nothing but our names."


"Little and less of immediate import, I fear. But it is good to see other survivors. I am Arkhos, once the Shining Wyrm. Potential allies are a welcome sight." He surveys the others. His memories are still jumbled; he can remember what he had been, but only a handful of what he had done--and even less of others with divine power. Still, no tug of ill feeling comes to him with these. Winter's name bespeaks his nature well, and from his look, some of Vulcan's mien is apparent by equipment alone. The halfling, whatever her name, is at least a welcoming sort, which has its own sweet charm. He can learn more soon, no doubt.

With some relief, he can say without dissembling, "Whatever our relations before this calamity, I know we must band together now. Divided, we fell. United, we may yet end the tale differently."

[JNAProductions]

When Arkhos calls over, Azzelfet pays close attention. She gives a small bow to the newcomers, and says "And I am Azzelfet, goddess of invention."

[Alhallor]

When the talk goes over to different smithing methods Winter excuses himself. He couldn't really participate and if in the end he could feel some weight on his hand again he could be satisfied with it.

After a short look around he sees Yondalla speaking with two other wondrous individuals. It seems we get some more company. I'll go fetch them.

Winter goes halfway towards the newcomers and waits for them to still be able to somewhat be aware of the survivors and the newcomers. When they approach with Yondalla he greets them.

Greetings. We decided to accompany this track of survivors and get Vulcan behind a forge, it seems he is in dire need of working. It would be a great boon indead to have some more to protect these survivors. Plans for the future can be done after we have reached that goal. He says as much to himself as for the other arrivals.

[Zalphier]

Vulcan: While the cart is slow moving with the mud and makeshift repairs, at least the time spent is entertaining as the dwarves continue to bicker and debate proper forging technique, well after Winter had wandered off. Vulcan's own interjections though are welcomed openly into the discussion and soon they are pelting him with questions and critiquing his answers in kind with their own. The cart begins to leave the battlefield behind as the debate not only continues but intensifies. Before it come to all out blows though, Durvan speaks up. "ENOUGH! When we get back to deh town, you'll settle this the only way a dwarven smithing debate came be. There's ample scrap about, first one to forge a weapon that can whether three blows wins. Might not be your common custom Vulcan, but you're welcome to join and put your own words to the hammer. You could even pick what we'll be forging since yer the newcomer," he adds.

Everyone else: The half orc that had led Azzelfet and Arkhos over toward the other was already wandering away, and seemed somewhat distracted as he didn't respond to Azzelfet's question. Similarly, Gregor nodded towards Yondalla before stepping away along the battlefield to being performing funerary for the masses along the battlefield, leaving the four to have their introductions. The rest of the battlefield was mostly quite now, and the tide of survivors was already slimming to just a few stragglers and those that'd stayed behind to help them.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Good to meet you both! I'm Yondalla."

The halfling nods in agreement with Winter as the group gets acquainted. "Right, we should head back to the village where everyone is staying. Well, not necessarily everyone. Gregor, that cleric over there, he mentioned that this battle was between mortals fighting among themselves. Over a ritual, and something called the Cult of Xanathos." She sighs. "He also mentioned that his divine magic stopped working, and that he felt cut off from the gods. Everyone here is probably going to feel the same way, to some degree. We'll need to offer them what comfort we can..."

She doesn't seem terribly sure of herself. The nature of this responsibility is just starting to sink in.

[Triskavanski]

"Forging something is what I wish to do, I'll take up the challage, though I will need a few hours to prepare. Then our battle of the forge shall be the stuff of legends, I'm quite certain!"

[ezekielraiden]

https://i.imgur.com/eRy7GqH.png
Arkhos (https://drive.google.com/file/d/19oYf7cRHtGvHGGuqkxct3tSaQfLa5P2L/view)

"Well met, Yondalla, Vulcan, Winter. I look forward to a more fulsome meeting later. For now, I must beg pardons, and see to weighty matters that should not wait." He turns to leave, but before going more than a few paces, he briefly turns back to say, "I hope I do not miss the competition, I should much like to see it." A genuine, if small, smile passes over his face.

He has to move at a slightly faster than walking pace to catch up with the orc, but it isn't difficult, really. Both men know well the patience of the quiet dead, and also the need to ensure their rest remains quiet so. "Gregor, though I know I am yet a stranger to you, I would fain aid you with the last rites. I am..." He trips over his own words for a moment, still so unused to needing to live and act as a mortal. Clearing his throat, he continues, "I may not be what I was, but I still yet honor faithful friend and fallen foe alike, and much favor sending all to their rest."

[JNAProductions]

Azzelfet has been quiet. She's still somewhat unsure of the situation.

Just not sure what to do myself, OOC. But I'm here.

[Alhallor]

Winter would wait for Arkhos, but trying to still keep the caravan in sight.

I guess we can get to the town or perhaps something happens on the way?

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Yondalla follows behind Arkhos, interested about as much in the elf's well-being as she is in his reaction to the dragon. She doesn't want to miss this conversation if she can help it.

[Zalphier]

Vulcan:
The wagon of wounded would continue to rattle away from the battlefield, gaining some speed as the path became more serviceable the farther away it got. It wasn't too long afterwards that the talked about village started coming into view. It's palisade walls still stood and even had a number of guards sporting mixed uniforms patrolling them. There was a fairly staggered stream of people moving into the village and a majority kept moving on through it, only stopping for a moment to try and get some supplies, food or water or to strip off the blast damaged gear that was accumulating into a decent sized pile near the gate.

As the cart wheeled towards the center of town, Durvan hopped off and spoke up again. "Ahlright you lot, you've got yer time ta prepare now while Burl and I have a look at getting these poor sods to the temple fer some healin. We'll be using the smithy over there," he added with a point to a fairly open building with a large furnace in the center. A scattering of tools and materials could be seen along with a few anvils. "The smith here owe's me somethin of a favor, so we shouldn't have any trouble borrow'n it for a bit. Good luck lads," Durvan added before setting off with Burl again.

Borwer, Mernkov, and Ardni quickly hopped off the wagon as well and nodded towards each other and Vulcan before splitting up and heading in different directions to see what could be gathered and used. The village itself wasn't huge by any means, but it did boast a few shops, most of which appeared to be setup along this central stretch of path. Next to the smithy was a general goods shop, and on the other side of the street a bakery with a dangling sign stating they were closed. A bit further on were an apothecary and a Tavern. Between and around several of these buildings were the houses of the native villagers who displayed a wide range of hospitality from those opening their doors to many to those shutting them to all.


- We can start up this competition in the next post if you'd like, or we can get into some more interaction with the townsfolk.

Everyone else who's still at the battlefield:
The elven Gregor didn't respond to Arkhos's comments or offers as his attention was squarely on something that seemed to have made a small crater that Arkhos and Yondalla could see as they moved closer. Just a short while after the wagon had moved beyond sight and sound of even Winter, Gregor bent down and picked up what was in the middle of that cater, a small silver band of a ring engraved with snowflakes. Without a word, he slips the ring onto his finger.

In the next instant, a wave of freezing wind that threatens to send both Arkhos and Yondalla tumbling backwards, erupts out from Gregor who slowly starts to rise into the air. A layer of frost and ice rapidly spreads out from Gregor and from it, seemingly at random, large but fractured pillars of ice begin to erupt upwards surrounding him.

Rough Map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1OOCoO9w4ipg-gR-y94Jv106lWoOIJ7iDCu_dect1v1k/edit?usp=sharing)

- I'm going to need Str or Dex saves from both Yondalla and Arkhos, you're free to choose which you use to not get blasted back by the winds. DC 13, pass and be moved back 5ft, fail and be shoved 15 and be knocked prone.
- Every turn ended in the freezing cold areas, the blue squares, will inflict 1d4+2 cold dmg
- Difficult terrain cost 10 instead of five to move onto it.
- Hazardous terrain, when it forms, will inflict 1d6 piercing damage.
- The Ice pillars are basically destructible walls with 35 health
- And yes Winter, even from your distance, you recognize that ring.

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan watched the others run off for the moment "I'll do my best to get my supplies", before moving to a nice clear area to be by himself. The first thing was to get tools. If he had a day to prepare, he'd be at his fullest ability. But the few hours would have to do. He wasn't able to bring his own smithing hammer into this, but he could bring the next best thing. Vulcan placed his hand on the ground, and let out a slow and long hiss of air out of his mouth. The ground grew warmer and warmer before he raised his fist and plunged it into the dirty. Fire and smoke bubbled forth as he pulled out a set of smithing tools, the hole closing up behind him. Channeling the power of the tools into the shabby armor he was wearing caused it to transform, fitting him perfectly as it reshaped for him.

"My arm is not yet complete.. but It'll do for the moment. Now then.. Material." He murmured going back to where there was a pile of blasted junk equipment, looking for someone nearby to see if he could take any of it to the forge.

[Alhallor]

Winter waits for the others though he is also itching to go. That restlessness wasn't like him but a lot has happened in a very short amount of time. When Gregor picked something up he didn't gave it a second glance at first, but when the howling winds started his head whipped around and his eyes were transfixed on the ring. A great aching overcame his entire body and the part where his ring was missing, began to hurt him.

The ice pillars exploded around Gregor and though Winter did want to challenge the conqueror of his ring right now, he realized that he was weakened and that he should fight with the others. Hopefully it would work.

He ran past Azzelfet and placed a hand on her shoulder. There is no barrier, though you and for me that can keep us out.

Running towards M11 (40 feet movement yeah!) and as my standard action casting Spider Climb on Azzelfet. If I can still see Gregor I would like to use my Bonus Action to cast Hex on him. I would give him disadvantage on Wisdom saves if possible.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Gregor!"

Yondalla instinctively ducks behind Arkhos to shield herself from the blast. In the second it takes for her to blink and look again, Gregor is already trapped in a towering icicle prison. She steps forward across the thickening ice and looks for a gap that she might climb through.

There would be no such gap; the spires are thickening and freezing together before her eyes. Through a shrinking crack in one pillar, she sees the elf freezing to the ground inside the cage. On the wall behind him, Yondalla's own translucent reflection looks back at her as if to ask permission for something. Yondalla nods. She won't waste her chance.

A person can survive a severed hand.

Spiritual Weapon: [roll0]
Slashing Damage: [roll1]

The image of a halfling-sized wraith appears for an instant above Gregor and cuts downward, slashing the air next to his ring hand. The goddess' shadow vanishes before anyone can get a good look at it, but the spectral dagger remains visible. It floats above Gregor's head waiting for another chance to strike.

[ezekielraiden]

https://i.imgur.com/eRy7GqH.png
Arkhos (https://drive.google.com/file/d/19oYf7cRHtGvHGGuqkxct3tSaQfLa5P2L/view)

The icy blast almost catches Arkhos off-guard, but with uncharacteristic swiftness, he crouches to one knee--still enough to shield Yondalla, thank goodness. Standing, he stares into the ice and wonders what can be done...and then, an idea strikes, like the spark that lights the flame. "If we face bitter cold, then perhaps another season serves similarly..."

He casts heat metal.

[Zalphier]

Vulcan: There appears to be no one directly in charge of or managing the armor pile, and even the guard's pay it little thought as Vulcan wanders close to it. When he grabs a piece of it, no one bats an eye or even seems to care. Looks like the majority more or less consider the damaged armor junk at this time. Ardni even showed up at the pile after Vulcan had a moment to start gathering.

"No one seems to mind us using this, do they?" he asked rhetorically as he bent over to start looking at what was a little over half a bracer. Borwer and Mernkov also showed up a bit later, already sporting some other equipment and scavenged up tools. They however wordlessly focused on the task of gathering raw materials, which the pile didn't seem to have any shortage of, even as the first half of their prep time dwindled away.

Everyone else:
Winter's hex goes off seemingly without a hitch, as does Arkhos's heat metal. Though even as several spots along Gregor start glowing with the heat of the spell, the elf continues to be unresponsive aside from a pained expression on his face. Even the form of the spectral blade above him that cut his sleeve does nothing to draw a reaction from Gregor. The ring however pulses with frigid light as another wave of frost radiates outward from it.

There's no harsh bitter wind buffeting the party, but a softer and more subtle breeze of flurries that would drift to the ground. Wherever they landed though, ice suddenly grew into cruel jutting spikes that would easily pierce boots and feet alike.

Updated Map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1OOCoO9w4ipg-gR-y94Jv106lWoOIJ7iDCu_dect1v1k/edit?usp=sharing)
Damage from standing in freezing cold areas:
Yondalla: [roll0] cold dmg
Arkhos: [roll1] cold dmg

Arkhos, you may also attempt a reflex save for half damage on the ice spikes forming. Otherwise it'll be [roll2] piercing.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Yondalla sniffs and wipes some stinging snow off her face. Can't rely on the knife alone. Gotta try something else.

The icy pillars have pretty obvious cracks running through them. They should make good enough handholds, assuming one doesn't mind freezing one's fingers off, which in this case Yondalla doesn't. The cold makes the pillars dry enough that they might not even be slippery.

"Arkhos, I'm going up!"

If he's inclined to give her a boost, that would give her a pretty big head start on the climb. Meanwhile, her shadow reaches out again inside the ice wall to take another swipe at the ring on Gregor's finger.

Climbing doesn't cost Yondalla extra movement thanks to her Thief abilities, so she should be able to get to the top and start climbing down the other side if she dashes with her standard action. I imagine that a boost from Arkhos will grant advantage, but I might also have disadvantage if the ratio of handholds to slipperiness is too low. Either way, rolling twice for athletics:

[roll0]
[roll1]

...and once for the spiritual weapon on her bonus action. It's still trying to cut off Gregor's hand to steal his ring, an act that is totally in Dallah Thaun's wheelhouse:

[roll2]

[Alhallor]

Winter steps forward, trying to avoid as much of the dangerous Ground as possible though even he could not avoid everything. He Needs to get that ring back! He Ends up behind Arkhos and seemingly wants to jump at him, but in that moment he transforms in a cloud of snow, flying around and past him, through the cracks of the ice and over Gregor he appears again, trying to ram his feet in the ice for a better stand. Desperately he try's to get a grasp on Gregor's hand wearing the ring.

That's not yours!

Walking behind Arkhos if I see that right I definitely step in the dangerous terrain at least once. Damage: [roll0]
Then I use my Bonus Action to use my racial teleport ability to get over Gregor and try to hold myself. Acrobatics: [roll1]
Lastly I hope I can swipe that ring away from him. Dex-check.[roll2]

[Zalphier]

The summoned weapon's slash only serves to make another cut along Gregor's sleeve as Yondalla takes to the wall and starts to scale it. She's over halfway up the sheer surface, which thanks to the cracks and fissures, it surprisingly easy to climb with exception to the numbing cold on her finger tips. It's at about this time though that Winter suddenly appears above Gregor, seemingly stepping out of the misty air itself only to catch himself with a both feet and one hand pressed against the icy walls, leaving him suspended over the Gregor who finally seems to notice another presence.

Gregor looks up at Winter when he speaks. His pupils aren't visible, just two glowing blue spheres with a steady stream of tears racing away from either, barely falling from his face before turning into ice, and then Winter removes the ring. A single fluid motion that was hard to say when it exactly started, or ended, but happened none the less. And if further proof was needed that it happened, it came quite quickly afterwards. It's hard to describe an explosion as gentle, but what all around would see had all the signs of an explosion. The rolling clouds of frosty air, snow, and ice racing outwards along with the sudden boom of noise that threatened everyone's sense of hearing were clearly signs of one. Yet Arkhos, Winter, Yondalla, Azzalfet, and even Gregor would find themselves gently lowered to the ground in the wake of the icy winds, as if a gentle hand were lowering them before fading away with the rest of evidence that anything peculiar had happened at all.

The snow was gone, and the ice. The wave of wind simply dispersed altogether. If there was anything that remained to show something strange had occurred even in a world of magic like this, it was that Gregor was looking up at all of you with wide, still tear stained eyes and slightly bluish quivering lips.

"Y- y- y- you all are... Th-th-th-that w-w-was," the poor elf struggled to speak through chattering teeth and fierce shivering. "I-I-I- I ssssaw h-h-her, W-W-Winter," he tried to go on.

Gregor didn't seem to be the only one who'd been somewhat changed by the event. All of the previously referred to "broken" were now standing. Standing and staring at them all, but not with the same lifeless blank expression. No, this expression had thought, or at least shock and surprise to it.

[Alhallor]

When his hands hold the ring an immense calm washes over Winter and it doesn't bother him at all that all the snow and the ice is blown away by the silent explosion and he gets lowered to the ground with the others. He try's to hold Gregor and try's to persuade the cold that has claimed him to leave him.

Yes we are. Says Winter calmly to Gregors first few words, seeing no possibility to hide the fact from him.

But his next words rip all the calm away from him like it were never there. He grasps at Gregor and with a voice strained and creaking like glass under pressure he asks him. Where?! Where have you seen her!?

Winter try's to warm Gregor up a bit with elemental attunement. He keeps the ring in his hand for now.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

The phantom knife that was competing for the ring vanishes along with the ice pillars. Its purpose has been served.

Yondalla lands next to Gregor and Winter, as gracefully as can be expected given the circumstances. At least she didn't break her shield.

"Saw who?" She asks the elves. She looks around, trying to shake the urge to steal the ring and go throw it into a volcano or something, and notices the scattered mental casualties from before. "Oh, hey! Look who's up and walking around! At least some good came of this."

She gets out her cloak as a blanket to help Gregor get warmed back up.

Heal to help him recover, or at least diagnose if he needs anything else before she goes to check on the broken.

[roll0]

[Triskavanski]

Meanwhile Vulcan was doing something other than fighting wayward ice powers. He was going to try to not be outdone by a few dwarfs, but He didn't feel like he was completely ready yet. And without Winter nearby, making a ring didn't seem to really work. "Perhaps a knife. " he thought working to get the supplies he needed from the pile of broken junk outside. Waste not, want not.

[ezekielraiden]

[roll0] vs DC ? (didn't see a number)
Piercing damage [roll1]

https://i.imgur.com/eRy7GqH.png
Arkhos (https://drive.google.com/file/d/19oYf7cRHtGvHGGuqkxct3tSaQfLa5P2L/view)

Arkhos almost immediately regrets his choice of magic--his hope had been to free, not to harm. Intent and result need not match, however, and as a mortal he has to be prepared for such ill-judged actions.

"Fear not, friend. You have seen with your own eyes, but we mean no harm to you and yours. I apologize for the harm I have just caused you; I give my word, I acted only to free you from the frosty fetters that held you." He gestures with an open hand, not approaching, but leaning as though he wishes to. "I know how little words can mean; do not think that the gods themselves have not suffered or toiled in vain in our long lives. But short of further magic, words are all I have to give, in this moment."

[Zalphier]

Vulcan:
Vulcan wasn't the only one to grab up a series of supplies. All three of the other dwarves ventured out to the pile as well to grab armfuls of the damaged gear to haul back for use as raw material. Time would tick by quickly enough as they scavenged and before long, Durvan could be heard bellowing for the 4 of them to return. Borwer, Durvan and Ardni all rushed back, the occasional piece of damaged gear falling from their grasp, only to be picked up by the one following along behind. Vulcan would even find three quarters of a plate gauntlet dropped by Ardni in front of him as they rushed back to the blacksmiths. "There ya are, we've only got 2 anvils so we'll have to space this out to two at a time," Durvan added as he looked over the meager stock of the smaller town's forge. "Volunteers for who goes first?"

Everyone else:
"I-I-I d-don't k-know," Gregor stammered out between chattering teeth. The warmth seemed a long way from offering comfort as the chill looked to have gone completely through the elf and lingered enough to keep fighting against the other's attempts to warm him.

When he finally did warm enough to stop shivering violently, Gregor continued. "H-her, the lady of change, the siren of spring and fair maiden of fall. H-his daughter," Gregor explained to Yondalla with a point towards Winter. "And Arkhos? What are you talking about? I know such kind and benevolent gods would never willingly hurt me," Gregor added, showing no recollection of the spells cast against him. "But why are you all here on the world? And where are the others? Do you know what's happened?"

[Alhallor]

Winter's expression is a mix of joy and fear. In a way it was nice that he shared the fleeting nature of his daughter. It has always pained him that he was eternal and she was not, which always seemed like an unsurmountable barrier between the child and they're parents. Now if he shared these condition with her, if only for a moment he could appreciate her limited time way more than before.

On the other hand he was as vulnerable as her and his ways of protecting his child was limited to what he could do. And he could die. That's scary. He say'd to no one in particular but then focused on Gregor again. Still ignoring the broken even with Yondalla calling them out.

Do you know where she is? Or if she's safe? Just at this moment would be enough. Winter wanted to slip the ring on his finger but hesitated a moment to ask his two new companions.

To tell you the truth I don't know if my mortal body can handle the might of this ring. Do you have an idea if I could?

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan:
Vulcan wasn't the only one to grab up a series of supplies. All three of the other dwarves ventured out to the pile as well to grab armfuls of the damaged gear to haul back for use as raw material. Time would tick by quickly enough as they scavenged and before long, Durvan could be heard bellowing for the 4 of them to return. Borwer, Durvan and Ardni all rushed back, the occasional piece of damaged gear falling from their grasp, only to be picked up by the one following along behind. Vulcan would even find three quarters of a plate gauntlet dropped by Ardni in front of him as they rushed back to the blacksmiths. "There ya are, we've only got 2 anvils so we'll have to space this out to two at a time," Durvan added as he looked over the meager stock of the smaller town's forge. "Volunteers for who goes first?"


Vulcan picked up the gauntlet as he headed back with the others before handing to to Ardni, "You dropped this." before setting down what supplies he had himself. If we're to do something, perhaps a dagger? Simple but can be more artfully done than other blades." He hums, despite the fact that going first would be against strategy, "I'm willing to show my craft first.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"What are you talking about? I know such kind and benevolent gods would never willingly hurt me,"

Yondalla blushes and avoids eye contact. A voice in her head laughs.


"...why are you all here on the world? And where are the others? Do you know what's happened?"

"The other what? Gods?" Part of her wants to make fun of Gregor for buying into this whole idea so quickly, but at this point she can only conclude that he really knows his stuff. "Arkhos, Winter, I think you said you all have the same sort of amnesia as I do, right? And I don't even remember most of the gods' names." She closes her eyes to speculate. "Gregor, you mentioned some kind of ritual that was taking place. Presumably, it was the cause of the obvious devastation here, but do you think it may have had some other purpose? If they were attempting to bind the gods themselves, then they may have..."

She trails off, not quite sure whether to say succeeded or almost succeeded. That thought also makes her realize something else.

"...then Winter's daughter might be in danger."

[Zalphier]

Vulcan:
Ardni looks back as Vulcan offers the gauntlet with a briefly confused expression, as he'd apparently not noticed it fall. With a thanking nod, he tosses it back onto the pile he's hauling and the others continue onto the meeting point.

After the Vulcan volunteers as one of the first contenders, the same dwarf Ardni raises his hand as well. "Aye, I'll not have my skill hiding amongst my kin," he adds as a bit of a jab towards the other two. Durvan has a bit of a chuckle as the other two stumble over retorts while Ardni moves towards the forge. "Try not to get in the way there Vulcan, and I'll try not to step on yer toes," the dwarf replies almost kindly, but the competitive edge in his voice is still obvious.

"Alright you two, let's see some right proper forge techniques and if I see either of ya try to interfere with the other, yer out. Vulcan's voted for daggers to be forged so that's what we'll be making. Begin when you're ready." Durvan said before moving back towards the other two dwarves to watch.

- Alright, I'm going to want a strength skill check plus prof bonus for crafting the base dagger, DC10.
- You may attempt up to 3 additional checks to change the quality of the dagger, with the last going from a DC10 to a DC15.

Everyone else:
Gregor shook his head at Winter's questions about his daughter, and kept it going when asked whether the ring could be worn now or not. Then he shrugged at Yondalla's questions. "I'm not sure what the exact purpose of the ritual was, but the end of the world always seemed to be their goal, or at least that was what other people had said," Gregor added as he continued to stumble about in an awestruck state. "There's a few towns nearby, maybe you could ask around for anyone matching her description?"

[Alhallor]

Winter had calmed down a bit. He shook his head at Yondalla's suggestion that his daughter would be in danger though. I doubt it, if they wanted to make the gods fall. She isn't a... He then seems to look right through Yondalla while his mind wanders and then says. Oh... Are you sure? He then elaborates further.

You think they made us fall to raise they're own gods? That would be dangerous for her... She doesn't know how to handle... All of the things. She doesn't know how to craft a snowflake and even then she needs to make ten thousands of them. Perhaps she also doesn't know when to arrive or when to leave, even if they are signs…

It seems Winter could run his mouth even further but stops himself, closes his eyes for a moment and then continues. I think we should get Vulcan, perhaps he can tell me about my ring. And when where in town we could ask around. Can you walk Gregor? Winter would try to lift Gregor as gentle as possible. The dead can wait for now. We will take care of them in due time.

[Triskavanski]

"I'll try not to."
Vulcan starts easy enough, rolling his shoulder for a moment as he heats up parts of the metal he had gotten. And much like the dwarf he goes about doing it properly. He wasn't about to interrupt someone working metal, cause only rude people do that. However, that wasn't to say he wasn't going to put more effort into making his dagger. He needed more time to get the runes done properly, however there was something deeper that he had as his mane begins to emit sparks and flames. Pounding on the dagger becoming increasingly more intense as he works the metal, he grows larger, his strength pounding the metal harder and faster as the world around him begins to shut out.


First attempt of the dagger is normal
[roll0] vs dc 10

However after the first roll, Vulcan initiates Giant Might as a bonus action giving him advantage on str checks. If I have to use it once per roll, it would be the second two rolls I use it for, or if I can get all three rolls in one, I'll do that.
[roll1] or [roll2] vs dc10
[roll3] or [roll4] vs dc10
[roll5] or [roll6] vs dc15

[ezekielraiden]

https://i.imgur.com/eRy7GqH.png
Arkhos (https://drive.google.com/file/d/19oYf7cRHtGvHGGuqkxct3tSaQfLa5P2L/view)

Arkhos is troubled. If the ritual succeeded...why does anything remain? And if it failed, why has the world so clearly broken? Is there something they cannot remember, or were all of them deceived, the ritualists included?

"We may linger a time, leastwise to attend to what needs attending here, but I doubt not that we will seek more." He shakes his head, the feeling of smallness never more pointed than this moment. "So many questions....and so little known. I imagine this is a moment when a mortal would call upon the gods for succor. And for the gods themselves...well, we shall have to find our strength and answers ourselves, I suppose."

[Zalphier]

Vulcan:
The first round of the smithing competition got well underway as Vulcan and Ardni and they both worked the forge with well practiced ease. The loud clangs of hammers and the hiss of steam echoed down streets and started to draw wandering eyes as passerby's with little else to do took an interest. Ardni definitely showed not only his skill at being behind the fires, but also his familiarity with working side by side. Tools were passed around as needed and the timing of when one was finishing with a particular piece of the forge to let the other use it kept neither waiting for long for any part.

Time dwindled as the two competitors not only finished their daggers with time to spare to work on improving them. When Durvan announced that their time was done, Vulcan had a dagger that he would be proud to call his own. While he and Ardni stepped out of the forge with their creations, Borwer and Mernkov stepped in to start at Durvan's announcement. "Fine bit of craftsmanship that," Ardni said to Vulcan as they waited for the other two to finish. "Still don't think it'll hold up to my own, but I can respect a fine smith when one's standing in front o' me," he adds while holding out the heavily calloused hand for a shake.

Everyone else:
Gregor's frame is easily lifted up by Winter and while he swayed unsteadily, Gregor was still on his feet and nodded that he could walk. "No, I believe Winter may be right, the village is a little ways off and we might reach it close to sunset if we leave now... if there still is a sunset," Gregor added uncertainly as he looked up towards the partial eclipse that hadn't seemed to move at all since the group had awoken. "Well said Arkhos, these trying times will only be seen through by the faithful and those who manage to stay strong despite them. We'd best be going then," and with that, Gregor started to walk towards the edge of the battlefield and the path that Vulcan had disappeared down a while ago.

The Broken meanwhile seemed to be milling about, unsure and uncertain about what was going on or what to do. Many rubbed their previously blankly starring eyes and had some light conversation with each other, casting glances at anyone and everyone as they could. They seem both curious and wary of the group.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Yondalla nods. "Right, let's head back. Figuring out what's going on will take time, and we could all use some rest anyway."

As she follows Gregor and the others out of the former ice castle area, she notices the broken. "How are you all feeling? Awake enough to talk? We're all headed to town if you want to come with."

[Alhallor]

Winter follows the others back to town, after Yondalla has spoken to the broken Winter ads.

Of course you can also stay here, where more of the ashen dead may rise and cut you down, but if you want to stay here we won't force you.

[roll0]
Should Yondalla's words from before give advantage. [roll1]

When arriving at town and hopefully meeting up with Vulcan Winter would try to get somewhere shut off to discuss what happened with Gregor and that Winter's daughter may be in turmoil and that the cult may be responsible for what happened to the gods. Finally Winter would show him his ring that he got back.

You don't need to make me a new one now, but I'm unsure if this. He indicates his gaunt elven body. Mortal coil can survive the power that is slumbering in that ring. I have hoped that you as a master smith of grandiose artifacts and wonders could know a bit more about it?

[Triskavanski]

Vulcan hums looking over the dagger he made. He could do better. Slight imperfection there, a bit too wave here. The balance wasn't quite right. It would do for a commoner, but for what he wanted, the dagger wouldn't do. It needed to be destroyed and reforged again. There was so much material out there that needed to be destroyed and reforged. Better, stronger, faster but he was in no condition to do it. He didn't even have a forge of his own yet, even his tools were things he simply pulled from the fires. Blinking he looks down to the dwarf, and shakes his hand. "You're right. I need to start from the ground up again, even then there is likely to be imperfections that need to be hammered out."

But were could he start? Perhaps a wagon of some sort, one that could host a portal forge. He thought to himself. His tools needed to be recast, with runes embedded in them. Creation and destruction, the never ending march towards perfection. It was for this reason he wasn't bothered by the state he found himself currently. Whatever cast him from his forge, simply meant he had not achieved the perfection with his craft and needed to begin again.

Once Winter approached "I'm currently hardly anything as such, however it is good you've found a ring for yourself again. But it looks to me to be a ring of sorts, possibly an unusual material of some sort."

[Zalphier]

The Broken seem hesitant and uncertain despite the inviting words, a few move closer to follow along with their still wide eyes while others linger farther back. One even rest a hand on the shoulder of another who'd been about to step towards Winter and Yondalla, shaking his head disapprovingly and convincing the man to not join them. This is all done in silence and as the group takes their leave of the field, there are a great many eyes still resting upon them.

The time it takes to reach the village burns through most of the forging competition, with the rest of the group arriving and exchanging pleasantries as Borwer and Mernkov are finishing up. There's also a small crowd that've gathered to watch the spectacle with a widely mixed reaction. Shortly afterwards, Durvan throws up his arms and announces that the forging is done and they were going to start testing the blades to see who's was the best. First up was going to be a test of effectiveness and balance, Durvan announced as a target was drug into view. The dwarves all eagerly lined up to prove their technique superior, but only Mernkov's flew true and buried the first quarter of the blade into the target.

As the competition moved on to the more exciting parts, the small crowd that had gathered up around it, and made larger by the Broken that had followed the rest of the party, took more interest. Continuous murmuring and even the clink of some coins could be heard as the reprieve of this distraction from the apocalyptic events started to take effect.

[Alhallor]

The little turney was underway and Winter couldn't help but take some interest in it. It was like memories of a long forgotten time resurfaced where he held court and something like this was a welcome background noise to decisions that would include the fate of many. But his body felt heavy and his stomach seemed intend to devour itself. A strange and unusual Feeling that he couldn't quite understand. Perhaps his companions could tell him a bit more about his current condition. Yondalla would probably a good candidate, he try'd to get her attention.

I think we have a problem, the powers at work seem intend to weaken our body's and our mind, even if we are not in battle, even when there is a lot to do.

He's just tired and hungry and doesn't understand it.

Do you have any idea what to against that? If we can remedy that, I think I could find out something about my daughter if I wear my ring. He let's the ring roll from one hand to the other. It was a present from her, you know? Perhaps that's why Gregor saw her.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Yondalla gives a suspicious look to the broken soldier holding his fellows back. Whatever they're up to, a dark part of her already knows it's going to be a problem. Whatever. She's not in a position to sell the town to them if they don't want to go.

She's caught off-guard by Winter's strange new prognostications. "Weaken us how? I haven't noticed anything..."

A quick glance reveals the truth. She recognizes the combination of fatigue and urgency in his eyes, and of course notes that he's obviously focused on something in his stomach. Having always been a more down-to-earth sort of goddess, Yondalla has a certain instinct for mortal concerns that she's thus far taken for granted. Does Winter really not know?

An idea appears in her mind to concoct some suitably dramatic remedy that only she can deliver, such that she can hold it over the other gods' heads later. Her conscience recruits the support of her common sense and shuts down this plan immediately. "Let's find somewhere we can sit down and plan," she says, hoping to let him figure it out without feeling too stupid. "Any tavern or inn should be fine. Then we can get something to eat, too."

With that, she glances around, looking for such a bastion of hospitality, of genuine succor alongside darts and dark corners. It's hard to explain, but she feels like she's been itching to find such a place since she got here.

[Alhallor]

Then let's find us something. It takes a bit of searching but there seems to be an inn even if it was pretty full, even with some people sitting on the floor. It wasn't to Winter's liking but at least there had a chance to sit. There was also a curious sludge-like substance in a clay pot and a more firm substance on a kind of platter. Winter looked around and saw others eating or drinking the substances before him and his stomach seems to act on his own to tell him what to do.

Of course he kinda remembered dining and drinking but it was only ever to feel pleasurable tastes and it was never necesarry. He try'd the sludgelike substance. It tasted like dead wheat with a weird aftertaste, but it seemed to dispell at least some of the weakness that was cast upon his fellow godlings and him. The more firm substance left the feeling of fur on his tongue and tasted like a dead animal rolled in salt. But his stomach nearly lurched and was devouring whatever landed inside it. It made him feel a bit better.

You were right Yondalla, this inn seems to be helping in dispelling the weakness they have cast upon us. Do you know about any other rituals in which to counter that? It seems Winter wasn't ashamed at all and more curious about these unusual rituals that the mortals seem to indulge in that were somewhat effective in countering the measures of they're enemies.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"It really is crowded. People must have come from all over to help fight..."

Yondalla passes on the gruel herself. She can stand to skip a meal; she's certainly in better shape than the inn's other huddled, defeated occupants.

"In general, mortals need food and water to sustain themselves in this world," she says to Winter, trying to keep her voice down. "That and plenty of rest. It would usually be rude to just fall asleep on the floor in here, but it looks like they've been kind enough to suspend that rule for now. In fact..."

She stand up and seeks out the innkeeper, or whoever is running this operation right now. With a bow (or whichever greeting seems culturally appropriate from what little she's seen) she thanks them for their kindness in these dire circumstances and asks if there's anything she can do to help.

[ezekielraiden]

https://i.imgur.com/eRy7GqH.png
Arkhos (https://drive.google.com/file/d/19oYf7cRHtGvHGGuqkxct3tSaQfLa5P2L/view)

Were it not for the weight of the current situation, Arkhos would certain laugh. Eating! Sleeping! The trials and travails of mortals. To have lived so long--longer, sure, than any mortal's record--without such concerns, and now be subject to them. Like a queen, having known only to wine and cake, and downy bedding, having to swallow hard water and harder crusts of bread, and rest herself upon straw. The once-god is glad that he had learned so early in his existence that hard lessons are often vital ones.

That said, such concerns are not entirely alien to him. The need for them is, most sure, however. He had walked among mortals many times in secret. But to act through an avatar of woven will, not through one's only flesh and blood, is another thing entire. Arkhos heaves a sigh. This could be a most crushing weight, or it could be a new adventure. Only one of those things is in his nature, the calling of his heart. That the phrase could now be so literal is merely a further step on the journey.

He could not go without letting at least a drop of humor through, however. "It would seem that not just against foolishness, but against fatigue and"--Arkhos' stomach took the opportune moment to growl like a wounded owlbear--"hunger, the gods themselves contend in vain." He looks to Yondalla. "Lead on, for doubtless you know these things best of us all. It is time we former gods broke our first bread. Together."

[Alhallor]

While Yondalla walks over to the inkeeper, Winter despite being not happy about the need to consume this… Food and the need to rest he couldn't help but feel relieved that he had this companions by his side.

He brought out his zither and bumped Arcos with his ellbow. Care to play with me a bit? I could use some distraction to gather my thoughts and I think the rest in this inn could use some too.

Winter didn't play a specific song, just letting his feelings let his fingers take over. Beginning with low dark and somber tones that in the end change into a higher, more hopeful tune.

[roll0]