World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

[MrAbdiel]

Jakk’ari’s approach is novel, but ultimately in vain. To achieve lip to skin contact, he is forced to plant the peck on the unconscious Druid’s prominent, sharp chin - but lacking either true love, or perhaps the actual Druidic ritual magic process required, causes the gesture to manifest no change.

[BananaPhone]

Marion Mordis

Marion's brow furrowed as she perused and inspected the glyphs that were drawn about the chamber, a look of curious concern galvanised by every new rune that she inspected.

"Vargheist, hold this please..." she would utter while her eyes remained focused, reaching out to her pet to grant him her back pack before withdrawing from within it some sharpened coal and a journal within which to take notes and draw replicative diagrams.

Unless anyone asked her a question or pointed something out to her, Marion would spend the next ten minutes or two moving between the laylines of eldritch energies that were anchored into the material world by those inscriptions.

Her survey and estimations complete, the warlock returned to the others. Mercifully, she arrived after the towering troll had attempted his 'novel approach' with its lacking immaterial components.

"I don't think the 'Life' magic is entirely what it seems..."

[Plaids]

Hmm, I suppose you are right Mor'Lag.
The situation was novel and there was little insight to give. The puzzling thing was the absence of the typical elements that would gladly flock to the caverns instead of any hostile presence.
I do not know what be happening here paladin Emelia. What concerns me the most is that our Vargheist is the closest thing to an elemental I can sense within these caverns. If you sense a force opposing the life magic the West I say we go East.

With Marions return her suggestion turns Jakk'ari's head. Could the force permeating caverns could be anything but life magic? Such a question would be calling a basic principle the party had been operating on.
Jakk'ari responds responds to Marion
What do you propose that force be?

[BananaPhone]

Marion Mordis


"I can feel and see the touch of the Void," the warlock answered.

Marion pursed her lips in thought for a second before gesturing with her thumb to Vargheist, "where he comes from. Vargheist is not a demon...not strictly speaking anyway."

"Take a fistful of dirt and crumble it into a glass of water. The glass is still filled with water, but now it's tainted...it's different, and you had best not drink it. I think that's what the Night Elf druid did."

[WindStruck]

"This whole room - this runechamber - was a ritual meant to draw our material world closer to the Emerald Dream.." Isaera says.

Gesturing at the walls she continues, "The runes are all written with Draconic runes, though as you can see, the green coloration more closely associated with those dragons of life and nature has become blue toward the east. This most likely represents more pure arcane energy..."

Isaera wondered.. was this what she had noticed in the oasis water?

"I suppose whatever may be causing this disturbance is indeed to the east. However, if the druids on the western end are combating it somehow, perhaps it would be best to speak with them first. At the very least, I'd like to have a better idea of what is going on. And maybe one of them can tell us how to stop it."

[Plaids]

Bah, troublesome arcane magic. Pulling strands best left alone.
The druids' help would be most appreciated.

But the druid present before the group raised further questions.

But why would they leave one of their own in solitude?
Either way if we brave the river there won't be any elements who can help us and whatever arcane power in the East may endanger our friend here.

[MrAbdiel]

Spoiler: -_-

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I typed out a whole thing, then accidentally bumped one of the extra pro-gamer buttons on my overwrought mouse, paged back, and lost it all.

Bury me.

After some discussion and deliberation, it becomes clear to the party they can do little more here, at the moment; the answers must lie at the extreme west and east of the caverns; and east, they go. This is not a path without peril - ahead lies a descent over the rocky cliff of the chasm, and then the arduous effort of pushing upstream against the rushing water towards the source of the strange arcane radiation...

Spoiler: Challenges!

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A fifty foot climb down the interior chasm wall to the surface of the hot stream. This is an Athletics check, DC 15. No routine checks here; it's not an inherently difficult task, but there are elements of randomness and slippage that require the dice. If you fail, you're going to need to make a Toughness check. The DC is 12, plus 2 for every degree of failure on the preceding Athletics check. Naturally, more catastrophic failures represent slipping earlier on the climb, or hitting a particularly shallow part of the water.

After this, everyone's in the water, and ready to go down the steam toward the West. Anyone with a swim speed can do this without rolling; the stream carries you along. Anyone without a swim speed will need to make an Athletics check, DC 10, to tread water as you're thrust along.
Failure means you struggle to keep your head up as the water tosses you, and you'll need to take a Fortitude check, DC 12, against suffocation (dazed/stunned/incapacitated). Critical failure means you strike a I stalactite when you pop up to breath, so you'll need to make a DC 13 Toughness check and THEN the aforementioned Fortitude check not to drown.

Going upstream is slower than downstream will be, naturally. The water in the eastern passage is shallower, but not at all slower, and the party's shorter members can just touch the ground with their feet while keeping shoulders above the water. If you have a swim speed from a dose of potion, you can swim upstream with a DC 12 Athletics check. Failing that, you'll have to march through the flow like everyone else.

Marching through the flow is a DC 13 Athletics check. Failure means you take a level of fatigue from the sustained effort. Failure by 3 or more means you slip, and are flushed back to the central cavern; forced to make the check again, or else for the party to come back for you.

Mor'Lag specifically brings a helpful option to this challenge, as her bulk is ideal as a water-break. Her Athletics check is still DC13, but anyone who declares they are sheltering in Mor'Lag's wake as you push upstream can have a +5 on your Athletics check. Mor'Lag, I'd like you to hold off making this roll until everyone else makes theirs. If Mor'Lag fails by 3 or more (or rolls a natural 1), she'll slip, and take everyone behind her with her!

After these challenges, you'll be about two thirds the way up the tunnel. We'll see how the scene looks at that point!

[WindStruck]

"Well then, east it is then," Isaera says.

Though the problem here was, there was no apparent way to go east, except down into this ravine and into the flowing water...

Not confident in her ability to swim at all, Isaera downs the contents of the water-breathing potion that she made, then strips off her wispy garments and sandals, leaving her in just her swimwear. "Good thing I came prepared..." she says.

"If anyone would like a nice, easy ride down, let me know," Iseara says. She extends a hand to Emilia or Marion, but any two people would do - except for Mor'Lag who would certainly count for more than two people. If Mor'Lag wanted to float down, Isaera was pretty sure she could only help the ogress and no one else.

Isaera casts Feather Fall, which allows her and up to two other people to float down with her. After that, Isaera is now immersed in hot, steamy water. Her swimwear certainly makes the whole experience more comfortable, but unfortunately does not grant her any magical bonuses to swimming. Still, she has a bit of pride and refuses to attempt this with anyone's help - at least at first.

Spoiler: ooc

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my awful awful athletics roll

(1d20-2)[5]

[Plaids]

Deciding the other members of his party need the help more than he, Jakk'ari begins the climb down into the river.
I will see you at the bottom. Mor'Lag I will be trusting you in this wet endeavor.

Wandering the barrens and Tanaris were easier tasks that fit befit a sand troll but the discomfort would be well worth it in the end.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Athletics for climbing down the cliff(1d20)[19]
Toughness roll if need (1d20+1)[15]

Spoiler

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Athletics for treading water (1d20)[6]
Fortitude roll if needed to avoid suffocation (1d20+1)[2]
Toughness roll if needed to resist stalactite (1d20+1)[13]

That's a lot of rolls and none of the potential negative modifiers have not been calculated.
Jakk'arri will be going behind Mor'Lag when marching upstream. The roll to preogress up the river will be made in the OOC thread.

After rolls: I think Jakk'ari lost his footing and got some water in his lungs. But I think he narrowly avoided the stalactite assuming the degrees of failure from the attempt to avoid drowning don't count towards avoiding the stalactite. Jakk'ari got into the river without issue and rolled well for navigating the river.

[BananaPhone]

Marion Mordis

The travel was not particularly taxing for the Alteraci aristocrat, as she had endured worse before. Mostly it was the humidity that got to her. Originating from the high altitudes of the mountains and moving mostly through forested lands, the warlock would occasionally draw a cloth up to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed jewellery-like sheets across her forehead as the group made their way through the subterranean complex.

When they arrived at their next obstacle, Marion turned her neck and craned it backwards to look expectedly up at Vargheist. Outside of Isaera, it was possible that Marion was the shortest of the group, as her feminine physique and average stature of 5'6" made her diminutive compared to the troll, the ogre, the voidwalker and even the more amazonian human Emelia. Thus the dark bookling cast her silent desire for aid to her pet, who looked down at her and leaned forward so that the warlock could scramble atop his right shoulder.

Held aloft like an over-grown child, Marion could not restrain the smile and little giggle that cracked her features as Varghest glid down the uncompromising surface in a duo-scene that was sure to draw the eye of those who were attracted to unusual spectacles.

Close to the bottom, Marion once more could not help the excited yelp, hands-over-her-mouth enthusiasm and gratitude towards her pet in the form of rubbing her hands over the massive, indigo arch of its shoulders and gentle "Thank you Vargheist!" uttered from her lips, as the void-born creature eased his body forward enough so that the warlock could slide forward from atop his shoulders and onto the solid surface below.

[Feathersnow]

Mor gleefully accepts the spell. Lag's hesitatation is noted by Mor, but she is reluctant to think about it. Lag has been going through some changes, and now us not the time to process them.

Once in the water, the Ogress easily braces against the current and lets the smaller party members pass on her slipstream, stoicly overcoming the elements.

[Plaids]

While Emelia's misstep into the slick riverbed elicits a small wince from Jakk'ari the concern is waived as Emelia stands quickly only slightly bruised.
The remainder of the party is delightful in their own peculiar way. With Mor'Lag's huge frame daintily floating into the stream while Marion giddily descended with the help of her demon like acting like some mixture between a family's beloved shaggy camel and a dignified father hoisting their growing child on their back.
While Isaera seemed to be struggling against the current she seemed in no danger of drowning given the lack glubbing and blubbing and the absence of her silky garments would keep probably keep her from being swept away like a jelly.
Jakk'ari discretely chuckles under his breath.
Hah, crazy kids.

Addressing Isaera he says.
Need any help Isaera? I've got the blunt end of a spear if you need it.
Jakk'ari gestures to a wooden shaft held by a holster attached to his back.

[MrAbdiel]

The descent turns out to be simple enough, between gifted climbers, armored stumblers, feather fallers and void walkers. Once at the water level, however, the real trial begins; a long, difficult slog upstream.

The water is wonderfully hot - perhaps the heat of a bath one might let cool for a few minutes, rather than subject themselves to. But the fine, quasi-alchemical spices in the previously ingested meal make the difference, and the sensation is translated in the party's experience from unbearably hot to merely very hot. Inhaling the thick, steamy air intensifies the labor of the slog, as the watervapor competes against nourishing air with every breath. The floor of the stream is long worn smooth by the water's passage; but it is also sheened with a film of some kind of underwater moss that thrives in the heat. At irregular intervals, it glows with bioluminescence with mercifully lights up the dark tunnel enough to navigate it; but it's slick underfoot, and no one escapes the occasional stumble and slide, losing up to twenty meters of progress before managing to grab a stony protrusion on the tunnel wall, or the hand of a friend.

Isaera, whose delicate, magical descent to the water in her scarce bathing suit must be described as aphroditian, is at first leading the party into the gloom; her alchemical assistance transmuting her landborne grace to an undulating swimming technique that cuts the current coming at her life a knife and making some progress with an admirable determination to be self sufficient. But the elfess is no endurance athlete; and as the progress up the waterflow stretches from five, to ten, to fifteen minutes of sustained effort, a moment of weakness hits at the wrong time, and the water's power overtakes her; sending her tumbling back down the tunnel. It might have flushed her clear out into the entry chasm and perhaps further into the western passage; but a strong grip snatches around her wrist - Mor's ogrish paw, arresting the elf's disaster, and buying a moment for Jakk'ari and Emilia to help her into the relatively mild wake of the ogress's passage.

Spoiler: OOC - The Worst Waterslide Ever

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Everyone makes the climb without taking damage! With the exception of a single failure ((Isaera takes the fatigued condition!) with no penalty!), everyone manages to truck along in Mor'Lag's waterbreak, and Mor'Lag does not get blown back into them like a big tan bowling ball. Boo-urns.

Finally, the tunnel begins to open up; and as the space increases, the pressure of the flow decreases; until finally the party is crouched in calmly flowing waters in no danger of knocking them down. But from this position, from the mouth of the tunnel before it opens up into a new chamber onto which these waters bank, they can see the next obstacle - the massive, snoozing thunder-lizard on the elevated ground. It's massive - bigger than the kodos you rode in on, for certain - and its scales and hide seem shot through with an unnatural blue which you have never seen on a creature in the Barrens. Its every breath flushes the room with the stinging scent of ozone.

It does not choke the room with its size - there's room to get around it, if one intended to be careful - but the effort would require a non-trivial effort at subtlety. Past its great, finned tail, the room narrows to a single continuing tunnel, at the terminus where Marion's exploratory eye ran out of integrity.

Spoiler: Party Options!

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I of course encourage you to discuss these, and other options, in character; but here's the obvious ones:

1. Sneak past the beast, and up the tunnel beyond. Requires sneaky-sneaking.
2. Sneak out of the water and ambush the sleeping beast with everyone in optimal positions. Requires less sneaky-sneaking, and likely a fight against an enemy who has taken one round of your best shots.
3. Attack immediately, from where you are. Requires no sneaky-sneaking; but only those with ranged attacks they can rely on will be able to get their ambush attacks in, while the melee parties slog out of the water and close the distance.
4. ??? Anything you can come up with that you think is reasonable!

[Feathersnow]

"There is a spell we learned."
"Counterspell"
"Perhaps the gifted among us should blast it"
"We neutralize its breath"
"Then it charges"
"We and the Lightweilder fall on it as it closes."

[WindStruck]

Isaera, determined to make this journey by herself, nearly makes it, but stumbles in the end. Her slim and frail body careens backward, tumbling within the churning waters. She may have called out, but already her head was submerged in the hot, flowing water. Flailing her limbs around for something to grab onto, it's the humongous, meaty hand of Mor'Lag which catches her.

After the panic subsides, Isaera remembers that she was never in fear of drowning anyway, but still, how far would she have been swept back? For now, she's still part of the group that presses forward, however instead of fording ahead by herself and marveling at the wonders of this cavern, she now gazes upon the behind of an ogre.

Once they all make it to calmer and shallower water, the next problem looms ahead of them. Already Mor'Lag was speaking of 'countering' the thunder lizard's breath. As if it was a spell! But it wasn't a spell, not at all. In Isaera's expert opinion, perhaps the breath could be countered, but it would take a specific spell designed to neutralize those energies. So anyway, if Mor'Lag's idea failed, they were all currently sitting waist deep in water. Or if not, they would all be dripping wet.

Well she wasn't having any of that idea. Isaera was already distancing herself from the others, slowly moving against the cave wall opposite the giant thunder lizard, placing herself about as far away as possible while skirting against the water's flow. While she may have looked quite appealing and ravishing upon her descent, Isaera's now-waterlogged frame looked more like a frightened, drowned rat. Her long locks, now bedraggled and utterly disheveled, clung to her wet body. Isaera's only response to Mor'Lag's talk of tactics is silently shaking her head and pointing in the direction of the wall to follow her lead.

Spoiler: ooc

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I guess making a stealth roll wouldn't hurt now. Either way we're going to need it, unless we just want to heedlessly make it charge at us anyway! Oh yeah, and Isaera rather sucks at this roll too. She's definitely not ranger material!

(1d20-2)[6]

edit: may have forgot to add fatigue to this...

[Plaids]

Fording the river came easily enough for someone with the second longest legs amongst the party. The abundance of slick plants and algae didn't help matters but Mor'Lag's bulk saved the party from additional exertion and having to circle back to grab Isaera.

Upon seeing the large thunder lizard gently snoring and swaying the vegetation near it's nostrils Jakk'arri can't help gaze in wonderment. The coloration, the size, and the improbability of such a small space supporting such a prodigious creature. Then Jakk'ari notices Mor'Lags' scheming

Wait, perhaps we can get by without conflict with such a magnificent creature. Perhaps I can make stealth more tenable.

Jakk'ari flexes an arm attempting to cool the space immediately surrounding him before hopefully spreading it further into the room.

Spoiler: Jakk'ari's plan

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Jakk'ari isn't gung-ho for combat. He is in favor of stealth and would like to cool the room to make the beast before them lethargic. Jakk'ari would used this method in the past to slow dessert dwelling reptiles for hunting or escape. I don't know if cooling the room would work due to the absence of elementals though.

[BananaPhone]

Marion Mordis


Marion had enjoyed the short burst of obstacle courses that, let's face it, Vargheist had navigated on her behalf. For Marions part she encouraged her pet in spirit, sitting aloft its right shoulder, her hands resting at strategic points along its broad, dome-like back so that she did not tumble off of the blue mountain and go head-first into the river below in what would be a most undignified display.

This was wonderful! Marion thought to herself. This must be what those old Emperors felt like when sat atop a comfortable dais while squads of slaves literally shoulder-carried them about.

When the fun was over, Marion was gently deposited back onto the ground as Vargheist leaned forward and the warlock 'slid' down his arm to land on her feet upon the soft earth.

"Thank you Vargheist!" the Alteracii acknowledged with a smile, giving her pet a reassuring pat on its arm with her left hand, before turning to continue with the rest of the group into the humid, subterranean tunnels before them.

When the group encountered the new, slumbering threat, Marion proceeded cautiously. This animal, were it awake and menacing, would need to be fought, and they would be wise - in Marions mind anyway - to hit first and hit hard. But, it would be foolish to wake the beast...why fight it, when they could just move around it?

Though they would have to come back this direction anyway when departing the caves, so perhaps violence was, ultimately, inevitable?

Marion moved near Isaera and whispered softly.

"Do you have any spells that can blanket noise out from a region so that we could sneak around it?"

[MrAbdiel]

A brief conference between the team members proceeds, but is truncated by necessity and decisive action. They are not stealth specialists; but ambushing the creature seems variously over-dangerous, and somewhat cruel. And so Isaera leads off, her comrades following her impulse, attempting to keep their movements as quiet as possible.

This proves to be difficult. Mor'Lag, Marion, and Isaera have a universally dismal time trying to mask their steps in the shallow water; the slippery stone requiring a certain number of stumbles and muffled curses that begin to stir the great creature. Its huge eyelids begin to flutter, an ozone-snuffling breath fills its nose... and then Emilia, a clump of moss coming loose under the heel of her greave, skids sideways and clatters loudly off a wall, scraping down it as she tries to catch herself; every instinctive effort to slow her fall only making it louder. She ends at a half-crouch, hands braced on the wall, looking at her companions with an unspoken, apologetic grimace. At this, the beast starts, gives an indignant growl and begins to rise...

Spoiler: {Fluff} Jakk'ari's Plea

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You reach out to the spiritual realm that backlights the material. The Elemental spirits have fled this place - but nebulous, unformed elemental energies still exist, idle and scarce, constituting nothing in dormancy. Your desperation is a language as real a spoken word, to the spirits; and you push out your request further, and further into the silent distance...

...And from far below, in some deep cavern of magma and steam that heats the water on its way up to these caverns, a fiery spirit rises up with trepidation into this banned place. You feel its waryness, being here. This place doesn't belong to the elements - not anymore. It belongs to something else, just as primal: magic itself. The little Spark's unmanifested mind flits around the room and sweeps up the lingering fire motes left by the menagerie of elementals who abandoned this place before, and then plunges back down into the depths. In doing so, it drags so much heat from the room that the coldsnap sets in immediately...

... And then Jakk'ari is there, his legs unaccustomed to wading through water, but all the elements his home by a greater law; curling his three-fingered hands into quivering fists that immediately cover in a sheen of frost. The temperature in the room drops a hundred degrees in the space of a second. At once, your bodies register a chill of shock as you go from uncomfortably hot to uncomfortably cold; but your fortified constitutions prevent this from reaching a harmful peak. The thunderlizard is not so fortified - its fluttering eyes squeeze shut as the cold for instinctive fear of them freezing over, and its goes from its rising posture into a tighter, conservative curl of its tremendous body, preserving its heat, and slumbering anew.

Soon enough, the whole party has passed the room while the chill remains; though warmth will undoubtedly return in the passing of time. With that, nothing prevents them from proceeding through the following passage, in which the light blue glow of moss grows steadily to an ultraviolent gloom that makes whites of eyes, teeth, and clothing seem to glow as if internally lambent themselves. A minute or two of winding descent, and you can hear a growing thrum; a buzzing that is not quite mechanical or organic, but thuds in your ears like a bassy, erratic pulse all the same. Through the sound which blurs and strains your conversation, there is also the sound of something creaking and shifting - a sound like the stressing of wood, on a tilting ship's deck.

Spoiler: Isaera

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...As you have descended down this last passage, you have felt first a warm tingle in your arms that drove away the cold you endured escaping the thunder lizard... but that tingle soon graduates just to heat. Pleasant internal heat, like that perfect amount of effort spent in a dance, or swim; a premium sensation of rightness in the nerves. You feel... amazing. You haven't felt this good, this whole, since...

...Since you last stood in chamber of the Sunwell with your father; bathing in its direct arcane glow and feeling nourished by its assuring power. For the first time in a long time, you feet utterly satiated in a way that makes you realize how carefully your personal discipline had contained you hunger for mana beforehand.

(OOC: Until otherwise notified, you have a +2 bonus to any spellcasting you attempt, in this place.)

[Plaids]

The inordinately sized suprised Jakk'arri. While he had expected Emelia to clatter around somewhat in her armor the inelegant movements of his lightly clothed companions came as a surprise. The elemental assistance also came as a shock. When a water elemental cooling the surroundings would have been expected the quick arrival and departure of a flame elemental heat pumping the warmth from surrounding was novel and might come in handy in the future. Though right now it would only serve to torment his more lightly clothed allies and any character building wouldn't be needed for this venture.

With the underground foliage brightening the group had to be approaching something. Just as the grass thickened as it approached the ocean something had to have caused the change in scenery.
Anyone see or sense anything? The elements are just as absent as before, but I reckon something may be close.
Jakk'arri takes point amongst the group.

[BananaPhone]

Marion Mordis


Marion could have kicked herself for potentially disturbing the sleeping thunderlizard. It wasn't her fault, really...well okay it was. But stealth was not her forte! She was more about blasting the snot out of whatever they encountered that meant them harm, or melting their faces off or stealing their souls. And if such means could not solve such impeding problems then there was always her legs innate ability to turn herself around and simply run away.

But stealth? Bah. Warlocks did not stealth! Nobles did not stealth! Up and coming Stormwind Financial Times Millionaires Under 20 of the Year did not stealth! But apparently in this instance they had to. For that thunderlizard wore the mantle of his namesake, his stormy and powerful mien issuing a silent but menacing warning that one would be best served by letting sleeping dogs lie.

Such was Marions preoccupation that she hadn't even noticed that they had past the threat. One second fear gripped her mind and the next they were past the slumbering menace. But alas, they were not yet out of the clutches of danger, for their trollish friend pointed out the absence of 'the spirits', his primitive means of gauging the winds of magic in the area.

Well, maybe not so primitive. Marion was being a bit harsh there. He had prove that he knew a thing or two that she did not, and he wielded a form of magic that was as unusual to her as hers was to the regular mage in Dalaran.

"I sense nothing..." Marions soft voice answered the troll, as she peered about for any other signs that her particular expertise may be able to detect.


ooc:
_________________

Just looking around and seeing if she notices anything amiss.

Expertise (Fel): (1D20+11)[15]
Perception: (1d20+5)[21]

[WindStruck]

The party of heroes snuck, or they tried to anyway.. it was all pretty clumsy but still the large beast slept soundly. Until Emilia slipped and made enough racket to wake the dead. Isaera cringed a bit at the sound, ready to dive under the water for cover (if it could even provide cover from an electric blast!) in case things got dicey. To be fair, at least Isaera wouldn't have been a target if it didn't see her?

But then Jakk'ari stepped in, with his expertise in the magic of spirits and nature. The room temperature changed drastically, from hot to freezing, and Isaera felt herself recoiling. She dove back into the water anyway, trying not to freeze to death into a popsicle, and swam as far as she could, breathing the cooling water, before she had to face the inevitable.

Dripping wet again, she clutched herself and tried to make a tiptoeing dash to the exit beyond, hurrying to get back to the cave's warmer environment and hoping she wasn't going to get frostbite. At least it wasn't like she had clothes to stay damp and suck away even more of her body heat away like a wick, but it would take a while until her long hair dried.

Descending the tunnel, it not only grew warmer but felt more.. right.

"I feel the mana. It's in the air. It's... everywhere."

The elf closes her eyes and breathes deeply, enthralled by this wonderful feeling that she had forgotten from so long ago, and missed.

[Plaids]

Jakk'ari observes Isaera inhaling deeply and becoming mesmerized by the ambient energy surrounding the group. A tranquil high like this for a troll could only be found from smoking the fresh venom from a scorpid back home.

We should finish our business here soon. Who knows what could happen to us if we stay here any longer than we need? Might cause our tusks to fall out.

[Feathersnow]

"This must be what the Homeworld was like" "Before the Draenei and their war..." Mor and Lag look on in wonder.

[Plaids]

Mor'Lags had nothing to remember of their homeland. Given their age and the time of the ogres' introduction to the world they only would have had stories and recollections by their elders. A people leaving their land would entail a collective change forever. A people's livelihood and collective memory was inextricably linked to their life sustaining land and the temperamental ogre twins were born unmoored and untethered. The thought was enough was enough to leave a hollowing sorrow.

Jakk'ari turns his head upwards to responds to Mor'Lag.
Have you been you been told stories of your home world? Have you ever thought of being there?

[Feathersnow]

"We were told many stories."
"There is a great forest on the edge of a great swamp."
"The swamp has thick air and mushrooms that walk like people or fly like birds"
"We often wondered what that would be like,"
"The Great Lake of Zangar and the city of the mushrooms"
"This place reminds of that story."

[Plaids]

It sounds beautiful. A fertile land without the typhoons for life to emerge from the earth. Maybe someday you will see it for the first time.

[MrAbdiel]

It would be hard to deny a certain otherworldly loveliness to the luminous plant and fungal life. That phantasmagorical light-play, the constant splay and growth of your own manifold soft shadows in the dark, certainly makes for a memorable journey; and guards kept up fearing ambush in this tight connecting passageway prove to be unwarranted. It finally opens into a larger cavern - not to large as the central chasm chamber, but larger than the pocket containing the thunder lizard. It's a roughly oval shaped natural formation in the deep stone, with the tunnel you entered through at one narrow end and a similar egress at the far end; with the wide sides of the oval shape rising up twenty feet on each side before plateauting back to the wall and rising another twenty feet to curve into the ceiling. The impression is of passing through a canyon forty feet wide, with short cliffs either side.

Strikingly, almost every inch of stone surface in this chamber is covered with plant or fungal life. A carpet of moss so thick and firmly rooted it almost qualifies as grass rolls out beneath your feet all the length of the canyon. The flanking cliffs are crisscrossed with ropey, fungoid vines with clustering blooms of colorful mushrooms. Incredibly, at irregular intervals along the canyon but especially dense across the tops of the flanking cliffs, the bioluminescence (or something else) supplies enough light to support the grown of honest, surface-style trees. They are small, hip-high saplings and shrubs in the canyon, but fully grown trees with their boughs pressed flush to the ceiling and weaving between stalactites; with leaves that seem black within a constricted light spectrum that cannot accommodate their true green. Pansies and peacebloom flowers swarm improbably around the stalactites on the roof, like a peacebond on the jaws of some ancient beast. A small, but busy colony of bees buzzes quietly away on the righthand cliffside, dutifully doing that noble toil that only they can do, even under these strange conditions.

Advancing cautiously into this verdant valley, you find no immediate threat - there are no creatures or people hiding on the short clifftops or trees where an ambush would have been very effective, and the plantlife itself is in no way inherent hostile. Not, atleast, initially.

The advance through this room is complicated as you approach the middle, where a cluster of the hardy little subterranean saplings grow out of a thick, rugged mat of tangled foliage and crawler vines. Ponderously, slowly enough that the alarm of its happening gives you plenty of time to step back and prepare, two points of royal blue light bloom into brightness in the mess of leaves and moss - eyes, your suspicions indicate, quickly validated. The mess of plantlife in that tangle place begins drawing together, and from even further to the cliff walls twenty feet either side; as if the resting spread of this accruing being had spanned the entire width of the valley. When it is done retracting these cables of plant life and mana-drenched root networks into itself, it has drawn up to an imposing figure: seventeen feet of looming, aggregated life in a humanoid shape half again as wide in the spread of its long dangling arms as it is tall. The plants composing it are flowers, roots, saplings, moss, and fungal tag-alongs; life with no especially uniting principle other than whatever supernatural compulsion has driven them into this mannish shape, and given it whatever mind is operating behind those glowing eyes. It has no express mouth, and you cannot imagine it has any real organic seal to force air through it if it did; but the wheezing, moaning whistle of air forced through its shambling form by a contraction of creaking wooden parts strikes you as mournful, questioning, and simmering impatient. It seems to be asking something beneath the vulgar word-shapes mortal beings use to bandy their brief concerns; speaking in a language that might be intelligible to gifted druids, but surely no others. If this creature has wits, it is at their end, transferring this urgency onto you for reasons beyond your kenning.

Spoiler: OOC!

Show

This creature, Verdan, has not attacked yet; merely manifested in your presence. It’s watching you very intensely, giving you moment for… something. If you want to take advantage of this lull, either to attack, or prepare to attack, or communicate with your fellows, or anything else, you may do so still outside of initiative order - but as soon as it perceives threat, correctly or not, we’re into fight-time!

[Feathersnow]

Mor and Lag look on in hushed silence. This kind of magic was beyond anything one of their ilk had seen seen in all the history they knew.

[Plaids]

Jakk'ari looks back to the group quizzically silently asking if any of them knew what was occurring. Not seeing anything Jakk'ari, standing at the head of the group discards his weapons. He looks to the green giant actively listening in an attempt to discern what it could trying to draw attention to.
Active listening (1d20+7)[27] from perception and AWE. Adjust the number if a different skill applies.

[WindStruck]

Isaera doesn't know what she is seeing, though she is filled with something more like awe than dread. Glancing around at her companions, she asks, "Do any of you understand it? Jakk'ari?"

She is not sure what to do at the moment, except kneeling down among the incredibly lush and thick moss, not quite a token of reverence given her ignorance, but most certainly a sign of deferrance and respect.