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    Chapter One: Funeral for a friend


    Compared with the cheery but condensed atmosphere of its villages, where you found yourself towering over everyone and awkwardly maneuvering around almost comically small structures and carriages, the Zil countryside is open, lush, and welcoming. The sun is warm without being harsh, the air smells of clear and fresh with occasional hint of alfalfa on the breeze. The only sounds are the gentle whish of grass, a rustle of some tiny scurrying animal, and the far off chirps of insects and birds.

    It’s getting toward evening and you’ve beet traveling all day. Longer even, when you count beyond your single night in the town of Reven. The gnomes are perfectly nice and hospitable - occasionally too accommodating and inquisitive, in fact - but only the Ghallanda-approved traveler’s inn is sized appropriately for people over four feet tall. But the rest of your journey was pleasantly dull. You noticed in the years since the Last War ended that travel between nations is far more often an uneventful bore than a harrowing adventure. Most people think that’s a good thing.

    When you first received the Orien package, you were quite surprised. Though a human, and an elder one at that, Lordis Cobrimer had been such a facet in the world of adventuring and such a larger-than-life figure in general that the proof of his mortality came as a shock. What he asked was not a surprise. Make your way with haste to the Hall of Auspicion. This is a ruin atop the first and highest hill north of Reven in Zilargo. You can’t miss it. You are to arrive on the 15th of Therendor exactly. No sooner, no later. Included herein are funds for your travels. Do as I ask and consider this old man off to Dolurrh satisfied he lived life to the fullest. This is not surprising because everything the man did was a surprise. This is just his way of taking the reigns, one final impulse indulged and you dragged along for the ride. So perhaps he’s reached a sort of immortality after all, proving he was such a force of character that he’s propelled you into an adventure from beyond the grave.

    And now you’ve spent the entire day trekking across this lovely pastoral landscape toward a hill. It’s right before you, the tallest for many miles, with The Howling Peaks rising many miles beyond. There are copses of trees and the occasional hillock and boulder, but one thing is missing. No ruin.





    It’s confusing. There’s nothing here. As you make your way up the hillside, however you are travelling, you easily note evidence of plenty of very recent traffic going the same direction. So now you’ve found traffic to a place you expected but obviously isn’t there. You finally crest the hill, the sun making its way toward the horizon on your left, and confirm with some annoyance that no, there’s no building, ruined or not, on this hill. But you’re not alone. Ahead of you is a dark figure, leaning oddly. As you close in you realize it’s a woman, and she’s standing precariously at a hidden crevasse, gazing down with some consternation. She hears you and turns. Youthful and warm, creamy pale skin with a touch of elvish heritage, the woman has expressive, friendly eyes, a heartwarming smile, and very long, dark brown hair. Her demeanor contrasts sharply with her dark ensemble. She wears a black dress with an embroidered leather outer, stylish high-heeled leather boots, and leather arm wraps all under a black cloak. Her fingers end in inchlong glossy black nails. She carries a delicately carved wooden staff with knobby ends, and a heavy, reinforced book, hooked to a belt, hangs at her side. “Good day. I was asked to come to this place by an old friend, you see. I mean no harm. I’m only here to see the ruin.” She observes your armor and weapons, uncertain if you represent a danger, and points into the earth. “I think somebody’s already down there.”

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    Finley d'Orien, a lithe and dashingly-handsome man, takes an exaggerated deep breath to slow his breathing as he approaches the woman. He opens his eyes wide in mock surprise at the woman's heels and whistles. "I knew the old rascal had powerful friends, but if you hiked up here in those boots, then I am quite lucky you mean me no harm." He gives a warm, sympathetic smile and extends his hand, taking hers gently and placing his other hand on top of the handshake in a kind gesture. "I'm sorry for your loss. Our loss, though I imagine you knew him much better than I did. My name is Finley d'Orien, and quite frankly I'm honored to have been called here with you." He glances down the into the earth and then points to her spellbook. "Unfortunately, I don't bear my House's mark, so you may have a better way down in that book than I do in my pack." At the sound of footsteps, Finley, turns to regard the next person to arrive....
    Last edited by King Tius; 2017-10-31 at 09:49 PM.
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    "Hello, there. You seem to be in the middle of something overtly magical. Is this a bad time to talk?"
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    The sound of heavy metal would announce a rarity's arrival, a massive, black steel Warforged approached. His battle marred chassis marking a lifetime of warfare. He would approach the gathering, knowing well of his friend's tendancy to befriend oddities. The faux man was massive with a new 'eye' grafted over his original chassis, a large 'scar' indicating exactly why. "I suppose this is a gathering for Lordis Cobrimer, if so, well met friends. Tarkus would give the pair a silted, odd smile, "I, am Tarkus. Paladin of Dol Arrah."
    Last edited by Alkerite; 2017-10-31 at 10:14 PM.

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    A wood elf appeared, dressed in plate armor and wearing the holy symbols of the Undying Court.

    Caelynn approached the group and for a moment, her expression changed from a grim frown to a soft smile, when she saw the elvish looking woman and the others, speak of her old friend. It was nice so many had come. So many had cared.

    Quckly, the frown came back though. It was foolish to mourn the dead. Death is one of the only real certainties we are granted in life. Simply the next step, she reminded herself. That is what she had been taught from a very young age. The dead should be remembered and honored, but mourning them made as much sense as mourning the moment a child looses his first set of teeth. Still, it felt good to her that all these people had come to honor her old friend. How much she had missed him...

    Lordis had had the right atttitude towards life and death. He’d known that life should be celebrated. She didn’t want to mourn him, she wanted to understand him. What had he been up to? This wasn’t a normal funeral. What had he been planning?


    “Greetings, my name is Caelynn of Aerenal. It seems we are all here due to our good friend. I was expecting some ruins though....”


    The last sentence was uttered as a question to the group, a question she hoped someone would answer.
    Last edited by Ichneumon; 2017-11-01 at 05:53 AM.

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    Following in the tracks of the first to arrive, a sprightly and light-footed Elf takes a haphazard path both on the packed earth and then leaping and hopping across larger boulders jutting from the hillside whenever the previous path proves precarious. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here or what he would find but he respected Lordis Cobrimer enough that he was pleased to follow the man's request, last or otherwise. Besides, the hefty purse included in the delivery somewhat obligated him to follow through. Erith reaches the summit, surprised to see a larger crowd already having gathered.
    "Goodness," he remarks, taking a moment to catch his breath and straighten himself out. "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you lot aren't here just on a serendipitous stroll. My name is Erithacus, though you may call me Erith. I received word from an old acquaintance that my presence was requested atop this hill, to investigate some ruins. I imagine you are here for similar? Pardon my lateness if this has already been discussed, but where are they? Down there?"

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    "Probably!" Calls out a voice, seemingly in response to Erithacus's question. A young human woman appears, face flushed with exertion, on the far side of the hill. She has a broad piece of paper in her hands, which she rolls up and stuffs into a tube as she reaches the main group. She's tall and lean, with close-cut dark hair. Two things set her apart from the rest of the group: a dragonmark at the base of her throat, and her total lack of armor or weapons.

    "I got here way too early, so I decided to find a better vantage point and make a map; you'd be surprised how few good maps you can find of the interior of Zilargo, despite House Sivis. I'm sure they have them, but they never want to share them with us." She gestures to the crevice, her eyes wandering over the assembled group. They light on Finley, and she gives him a friendly nod. "I didn't want to jump in alone, so I thought I'd wait for some company first. If no one had shown up by nightfall, I'd start to worry that I'd gotten lost. That wouldn't be good for my reputation."

    She tucks the leather map case in a side pouch of her bulging backpack, then looks to the woman, judging her to be the most important person present. "Good afternoon; my name is Liann d'Orien. What may I call you?"
    Last edited by RaggedAngel; 2017-11-01 at 01:38 PM.
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    Funeral for a friend: Hilltop


    The dark woman’s eyes sparkle at Finley’s good nature. “Who said I walked?”

    You each make acquaintance with the next to arrive. “I’m called Carver Blackhorn. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. And in truth I’m as in the dark about our invitation as you all seem to be. I hadn’t expected anybody else. In fact, I thought I was a late arrival, because I swear I heard voices and movement down there. And, the tracks…”

    She points, and you realize your earlier suspicion about the trail you followed being from your fellow “invitees” was incorrect. Heavy tracks through the grass come close to the crevasse and then veer away for a parallel tack. Liann, who had spent some time mapping the hill from a distance, knows the great crack can’t be more than a hundred yards in length, but it’s invisible from any perspective but the one you now share. It’s only five to ten feet wide; fairly easily missed even from the air, you assume, though it does look like it widens at the bottom, maybe twenty to thirty feet down.

    “It looks as though somebody already knows of a path down,” Carver says.








    OOC: It is now almost sunset, as mentioned in the OP. It may or may not matter, but I wanted it to be clear anyway.
    Last edited by Gorgon_Heap; 2017-11-01 at 04:50 PM.

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    Liann nods to Carver, taking in the woman's attire; it's exactly the opposite of her own sturdy, practical breeches and tunic. "Well, we can either affix a rope up here, or we can look to see if there's a hidden ladder or something. I couldn't find any other ruins sitting on other hilltops around here, so they must be down there." She looks to the others, curious if they have any other bright ideas about how to reach the bottom of the crevasse.
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    For a while, Caelynn didn't really listen to the conversation, just staring at the warforged paladin, a bit longer than normal etiquette allows. Observing it as you would observe a strange animal or lifeless object. She had never really had a chance to have a real conversation with one of these mechanical beings before and she had never heard of them being religious. Lots of philosophical questions filled their minds. Did they have souls? What happens when they die? Do the gods listen to their prayers? Do the gods answer their prayers? When she realized she'd been staring, she quickly looked away, but decided that she'd want to learn more about this 'Tarkus' if she'd the chance, maybe even try to befriend it.

    Quickly catching up, she greeted everyone and joined the conversation, replying to Liann: "Yes, we could climbing a rope. Although I am not a very good climber, I'm afraid."

    Caelynn looked around, hoping to find a ladder or some other way down.

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    In case I am allowed to make a search check, I'm rolling Perception: (1d20+3)[22]

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    A problem remedied by a few knots in the rope, and someone, or a group strong enough easing you down. Tarkus would respond, to the elvish woman, returning her stare in kind, looking her over with his unfeeling lens. He already knew the questions dancing along her mind, as he's no stranger to such looks, and the questions that usually follow. Going over the possibilities in his mind... "Do You have a soul?" "I don't know, how do you check?" "Do the gods listen to your prayers?" "Do they listen to yours? And I think I'd be a lousy Paladin without them." "What happens when you die?" "I don't know, and I don't particularly want to find out." However, the brief sense of malice Tarkus felt for the woman would slowly fade, merely chalking it up to harmless curiosity. He'd give her a chance, as many men gave him. "But, I'd prefer to leave the heavy lifting until we know there's not another way down."

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    "Well now, let's not search for a problem where there may not be one. If you did hear voices then that means there's no fewer than two people already down there, and they had to get down somehow. Who knows how many people Cobrimer invited to this? Any friend of his gets a pass in my book."
    Erith rummages in his pack, drawing out a long coil of dense and dark rope. Not a strand of the coil seems to be unraveling from it.
    "Tarkus, right? Lifting, yes; heavy, I should hope not. This won't break unless you do, so no worries. I'm thinking that even if there's an easier way down, it might be hard to find unless we have a pair of eyes on the bottom already to connect the dots."
    Erith ties a quick knot akin to a hunting snare on both ends of the unbreaking rope, tosses one end to Tarkus to loop around his arm or his whole self, and slips his foot into the other to support his weight as he descends.
    "Ready when you are!"

    If Tarkus accepts the end of the rope and holds on, Erith will hop into the crevasse and hold on as Tarkus lowers the fifty (probably forty after the knots) feet of rope. How deep is the chasm?

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    OOC: If Tarkus accepts the job, he can easily enough leverage his weight against that of an elf and lower Erith with sure, if not speedy, progress. If not ... [shrug]

    IC: Carver nods and gestures to the towering Warforged. "I agree with him. Her? Tarkus. There are plenty of us here. I'll follow the trail and see if they took another route. An easier way than climbing." She walks off, occasionally kneeling to examine the trail in the grass very closely and, you'd guess, with a practiced eye.
    Last edited by Gorgon_Heap; 2017-11-01 at 10:13 PM.

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    Tarkus would nod, acknowledging Carver's option. By all means, being three hundred pounds tends to put more stress on a rope than is entirely safe. However, I must agree with Erith, having eyes on the ground would be invaluable. However. Tarkus would turn to Erith smiling at the pragmatism from the elf. "However, you shouldn't go down alone. Who knows what's down there, and you'd be alone with no easy way to get to help, or for help to get to you. Tarkus would declare, before accepting the rope, and setting it around his waist, standing a good few feet from the ledge, waiting for Erith and some other intrepid climber to make the descent.

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    Caelynn is ready to help with the rope and go down with them.

    Meanwhile, Caelynn nods. "Tarkus is right. We don't know what's down there. Friend or foe. We should be careful."

    A fearful look appeared on her face, as she started to wonder whether the package and message was really Lordis'. Could this be a trap? There was so much they didn't yet know...
    Last edited by Ichneumon; 2017-11-02 at 03:47 AM.

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    While the others begin to figure out a way down with rope, Liann strolls over to Finley with a mischievous smile on her face. "Hey there, 'cousin'; I didn't know that you knew Lordis. I'm going to have to hear that story sometime." She speaks quietly, keeping the conversation between the two of them. "You're still my cousin, right? Don't want to contradict anything you've already told the others."

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    I hate when players hide stuff from other players, so let me make it clear what's going on: Finley is not actually a blooded member of House Orien, and Liann is aware of that. She's intentionally helping him maintain a cover.

    EDIT- See the OOC discussion thread.
    Last edited by RaggedAngel; 2017-11-02 at 09:58 AM.
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    "Yes, Cousin, Darling, so good to see you again." Finley returns Liann's smile with an equally mischievous one of his own. "It is quite the story, but it will have to wait for a more private setting. If anyone asks, we're distantly related enough that your longing glances won't upset anyone." With a wink, Fin moves to join the rest of the group.

    "Wait wait wait, you have this all backwards. We should lower the walking anvil down first, unless someone has a spell to make him light as a feather?" He turns and raises a charming eyebrow in Carver's direction. "Madam?"
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    "Oh sure, great idea. Are you volunteering as the fulcrum, or do you really want to try that without one?" Tarkus would say bluntly, staring at the wisecracking noble with a disapproving shake of his head. The well meaning man getting on his nerves already. "I know that it certainly seems convient, but as the"Walking Anvil" I'd prefer not to be dangling from a rope. And even if everything went off without a hitch, I'd still be the only one down there. And just incase you weren't listening, if something happened, I'd be alone, on the ground, with the rest of you a rappel away, and just in case you didn't know, descents of sheer cliffs don't tend to go well in combat situations." Tarkus would say flatly, making his irritation plain as day.

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    As soon as Tarkus takes hold of the unbreakable rope Erithacus is already descending. If he can get to the bottom he'll let go of the rope and walk around.
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    Acrobatics if necessary to reduce any falling damage. He'll jump for it if it's less than maybe 30 feet from the end of the rope to the bottom. (1d20+7)[23]

    And Stealth when he lands, keeping to the shadows and maybe behind a boulder. He doesn't know what to expect, but he's better served being unseen first.
    (1d20+7)[22]

    Finally Perception, to take a look around. (1d20+1)[15]

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    Funeral for a friend - Hillside

    As the d'Orien pair talks, Carver wanders about fifty yards along the crevasse, turns toward a very large rock, and steps behind it, vanishing from view.

    The handsome pale elf tosses a rope to the hulking warforged and, with a wild grin, drops. Though annoyed and in the midst of argument, Tarkus won't let the fool elf die, and grasps the rope, hauling it taught. Erith almost slips free when it jerks in his hands, but he remains safe. The crevasse is about 30 feet deep, he sees, and the bottom, which craggy and pebble-strewn, is remarkably even and passable. It also widens to about twenty to twenty-five feet, and is only just curved enough that he cannot see either end. Left dangling in midair, he climbs nimbly down the knots and realizes he's not alone.

    Not fifty feet away are three people standing at a door carved directly into the stone. Nearby are about a dozen horses and ponies, and two small pull carts. All three men, two human and a gnome, are staring at Erith, the gnome in particular looking like somebody pissed in his soup. All are dressed in average city garb, but the men are armed with crossbows. Their eyes simultaneously turn farther upward as yet another elf begins to descend. Erith is sure the exasperated gnome says, "Oh, this is simply ridiculous. Can you believe the timing?" They make no aggressive movements.
    Last edited by Gorgon_Heap; 2017-11-04 at 12:53 PM.

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    Caelynn makes haste climbing down the rope for two reasons: 1, she didn't want to be a burden to Tarkus too long, but 2, more importantly, she didn't think it was a good idea to leave a team member alone for long than needed. Erith might need her help down there.

    Once she is down and sees they are not alone, she slowly walks towards Erith, trying to look confident. She gives him a nod and stops, when she stands next to him. She remains silent. She knows that others in her group will likely be better at diplomacy, so it's best to leave the talking to them. She rests her hand on her sheathed sword though and makes sure that the strangers see she is armed as well. I count more horses and ponies than men, she thinks. This likely means that there are more of them inside.

    In silence Caelynn tries to study the three men, trying to judge their intentions and predict their next move.

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    Caelynn tries to determine the true intentions of these strangers and predict their next move. (1d20+5)[16]

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    "I can!" Erith exclaims, straightening up after hopping off the rope to then descend into a bow.
    "Erithacus Goodfellow, at your service. I and a few others were instructed to meet here on this date precisely. I imagine you and we have been coordinated by the same person, with that in mind. Are you also friends of the sadly late sir Cobrimer? He gave me no instruction further than to be here, so if you know what's afoot then I'm all yours."
    Last edited by Nettlekid; 2017-11-04 at 03:37 PM.

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    Funeral for a friend - Crevasse


    As a second elf drops to the ground, the gnome appears dyspeptic, while all three are wary. As Erith speaks, the gnome frowns hard and looks out to his right, but sees nobody else approaching along the crescent. A moment passes. “I apologize, could you please speak up?” he says loudly, though not without good reason. The sounds down here warps oddly from the shape of the surrounding rock. They have not moved, and are not pointing their weapons at you, though they don’t look pleased. You walk closer and repeat yourself. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry, I never met the man. But if you were instructed to meet here today, that’s some poor advice. This is private property, you see; not a prime locale for a random meeting, no matter the occasion. Did you say others are expected to arrive? Oh, dear. I’m afraid you’re all going to be disappointed, and I must ask that you leave. The traveler’s inn at Reven would be much better suited to a friendly meeting, I’d think.”



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    They are quite tense, as if ready for action. Though admittedly, armed elves did just drop out of the sky.



    Hillside

    Tarkus is extremely unhappy to have been surprised by the presumptuous elves and used as an anchor for their rope line.

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    Caelynn didn't trust them at all. Really? Private property? In the middle of nowhere? This doesn't make any sense.

    She speaks up. "I'm sorry, fine gentlemen. This must be some kind of mistake. Of course we want no trouble. I am afraid I didn't hear you correctly. Must be due to the way these rocks warp the sound.. Anyway, who did you say the owner of this land was again?", she asks, hoping to stall them long enough for the other party members to come down as well.
    Last edited by Ichneumon; 2017-11-05 at 06:30 PM.

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    Tarkus was far more irritated from the human noble than the moderately inconviencing weight of elves, that cumulatively still weighed less than the heavily built, heavily armored Warforged, the sudden shift in weigh merely making him readjust his footing, leaning against the weight as he awaited the noble's response, his dull, scratched up lenses glowing with ominous red light.

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    Erith saunters toward the group to get more in earshot, and so that they (even the poor-sighted Humans) can get a better look at him. His eyebrow raises at the words of the Gnome, a small smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. Alright, two can play at this.
    "Right, right, entirely by coincidence," he gives a nod and a wink, as though to suggest that he and the Gnome are speaking about the same thing and under the pretense of playing dumb. "No one here has any agenda, naturally. Perhaps you can give me a pointer with regard to my next steps?"
    He reaches into his pack and withdraws the Parchment of Illusion, instantaneously transforming it before bringing it into view. The parchment is now a yellowed scroll, bearing flecks of an indistinguishable wax seal long broken. In Cobrimer's swooping script is the following text:
    Dearest Erith,
    Keep this in closest confidence. When you reach the designated meeting place, my friend (the short one) will guide your way. Trust his word as you would mine when given in confidence, but anticipate cunning trickery in public view to hide our true purpose from undeserving ears. Remember: All others beside you two are expendable. Expect your group and his not to survive, but keep him safe and he will protect you.
    Best wishes,
    C~


    Erith gives another wink to the Gnome, then his eyes widen as though remembering the presence of the Humans. He whips the paper back to himself (especially if anyone makes any move as though to grab it from him) and looks to the three in front of him sheepishly.
    "Nevermind that, nevermind that. You, er, you Humans able to see in these shadows okay, or...?" he trails off.

    Spoiler: OoC
    Show
    Question: Is the stone door open at all? Did it look like these three were trying to open the door, or were the rearguard for a group already inside?

    Also Deception, clearly (1d20+1)[20]

  26. - Top - End - #26
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    King Tius's Avatar

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    Default Re: Eberron 5e - A Life Well Lived IC

    Finley pats Tarkus on the shoulder as he grabs the rope. "Not an anvil then" He tugs on the rope. "A walking post, instead? Can't imagine those Cannith boys knew how useful you'd be as a mobile tree stump for securing ropes when they breathed life into you." He gives the warforged a wink and scampers down the rope.

    Once down in the ravine, he'll saunter up to the conversation and flash a smile, catching the very end of the conversation. "That's why they made torches, friend." He bows to the folks already in the ravine. "Finley d'Orien, at your service. Sorry for your loss, and thank you in advance for showing us how to get out of here without having to climb back up."
    Spoiler
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    Quote Originally Posted by mshady View Post
    Not sure of the details, I trust in King.
    Quote Originally Posted by RaggedAngel View Post
    "Hello, there. You seem to be in the middle of something overtly magical. Is this a bad time to talk?"
    Drawing OOTS Avatars Guide


  27. - Top - End - #27
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    BlackDragon

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    Default Re: Eberron 5e - A Life Well Lived IC

    Tarkus wouldn't respond, knowing that nobody would be stupid enough to blatantly insult the one keeping them from falling to their very probable death. Which would mean that the human was merely making an off color joke in very poor taste, but that's a step up from open malice, and certainly doesn't warrant an action beyond a disapproving shake of the head. Once the rope went slack once more, Tarkus would coil it. Stowing the rope in her bag, he would look for a way down, and if push came to shove, he could always just jump, he's survived worse falls.
    Spoiler: Perception check?
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    (1d20)[5]

  28. - Top - End - #28
    Troll in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Eberron 5e - A Life Well Lived IC

    Funeral for a friend - Crevasse


    The gnome steps back, surprised by the unfurling scroll, and reads despite himself. The men standing at his sides turn their eyes briefly to peek, but are otherwise worried about more armed newcomers descending upon them. “What is it, sir?” one asks hesitantly. “It’s … what is this? No, this is a lie. What loss? Back up? I’m afraid you missed your opportunity. You know the protocol.”

    The gnome yanks a wand from inside his sleeve and you are blinded by kaleidoscopic light. A second later, he makes a decision and says, “Him!” The men turn and fire on Erith...




    Spoiler: Surprise round
    Show
    Gnome casts color spray

    Man A attacks Erith with advantage (1d20+3)[23] or (1d20+3)[15] for (1d8+1)[6]

    Man B attacks Erith with advantage (1d20+3)[20] or (1d20+3)[23] for (1d8+1)[6]


    Round 1

    Initiative

    Erith
    Finley Blinded
    Caelynn Blinded
    Gnome/Men

  29. - Top - End - #29
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    MindFlayer

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    Default Re: Eberron 5e - A Life Well Lived IC

    Seeing the swirling aurora rush around him, Erith purses his lips with a frown. He had hoped that would work better than it had, but he hadn't counted on the Humans actually being as stupid and inattentive as he suggested them to be. This wasn't a situation he felt comfortable in, unable to direct the flow of the combat.

    Vision clearing as the brunt of the magical assault swirls past him, he glances to the two Humans readying their weapons, and recognizes he ought to be as far away from them as he can get. Calling upon the training taught to him by Cobrimer he points his feet and keeps his stance in a low fencing pose, then makes several quick steps back to gain distance and place him underneath the hole. He notices with a sour look that his special rope has been raveled up, much to his displeasure. But never worry, there's always a door. He steps up onto the air, then twists the Material Plane. For a moment the whole world really does revolve around him, and he places the top of the crevasse below the bottom, then falls into it. He lands next to Tarkus, and makes a few more steps back so that he's clear of the hole.
    "Well, that didn't go entirely as I hoped."
    He looks to Tarkus.
    "Might I have my rope back, if you'd be so kind? A little quick with the retrieval, there."

    Spoiler: Mechanics
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    Using my Movement to move 30 feet back, and my Action to Dash if need be. Then using my 1/short rest Fey Step as per the Misty Step spell to teleport 30 feet up to the top of the chasm (shouldn't be a problem, we were repeatedly told that it was between 20 and 30 feet deep) and then the last few steps of movement to move away from the hole, putting total cover between myself and the assailants.

  30. - Top - End - #30
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Eberron 5e - A Life Well Lived IC

    Finley gives a shout of surprise as he's magically blinded. He vaults backwards, drawing his scimitar and holding it up in front of him in a defensive posture. "How rude! This is what you get for being polite."

    Bonus: Disengage
    Move: Back up 30 ft
    Free Object Interaction: Draw Rapier
    Action: Dodge
    Last edited by King Tius; 2017-11-07 at 05:36 PM.
    Spoiler
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    My Characters

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    Quote Originally Posted by mshady View Post
    Not sure of the details, I trust in King.
    Quote Originally Posted by RaggedAngel View Post
    "Hello, there. You seem to be in the middle of something overtly magical. Is this a bad time to talk?"
    Drawing OOTS Avatars Guide


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