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From: Derek Walters Sent: Friday, July 23, 2021 10:59 AM To: TacobobMan <tacobobman@...>; Infinitum 3D <infinitum3d@...> Cc: [email protected]; Jon Strode <dwarfjsgm@...>; Arthur Picard <artamy1@...>; John DeMaio <mrjdemaio@...> Subject: RE: DaleOfShadows: Spring 19 Kythorn Flynn slammed into the tree and sank slowly to the marshy ground. There is no way he would survive another assault like that. Quickly running through a mental checklist of options he spat out a large blob of dark red blood and smiled at the advancing troll. “So, a cleric of Ilmater, a thief and a Tarrasqe walk in to a tavern…” he coughed, pointing a finger at the beast. OOC: Hideous laughter on the troll From: TacobobMan <tacobobman@...> Sent: Friday, July 23, 2021 10:26 AM To: Infinitum 3D <infinitum3d@...> Cc: [email protected]; Jon Strode <dwarfjsgm@...>; Derek Walters <thegamerzedge@...>; Arthur Picard <artamy1@...>; John DeMaio <mrjdemaio@...> Subject: Re: DaleOfShadows: Spring 19 Kythorn A rather scruffy looking Tabaxi dressed in a simple red half-top and shorts quickly rushed into battle. The rather nasty looking creature intended to kill and devour those travelers! Oh no! She will quickly make her way towards the troll, and once within distance, she will hit the beast with her flurry of blows! Hopefully her bracer will activitate and cover the rude monster with one thing she hates..? On Fri, Jul 23, 2021 at 10:07 AM Infinitum 3D <infinitum3d@...> wrote: ? All together now! Kythorn 19: Spring Location: the marshes West of Yhaunn Time: midday The Company of Four from Shadowdale, having survived the death house, continues on their way toward Yhaunn. Roughly a half league into their travels, the sound of Thunder reverberates through the swamp. North immediately recognized it as a Thunderwave spell, cast somewhere just south of you. Cerina hears the Thunderclap nearby and sees a massive Swamp Troll thrown backwards, about 60 feet ahead of her. The Troll quickly recovers and charges ahead toward a somewhat smaller victim. Her quarry! Flynn’s magic pushes the Troll away, but the creature shakes off the damage and quickly closes the gap between them, clawing and biting at the Half-Elf, Raking his skin and drawing blood. And what do you do? OOC: the Troll failed his Con Save and takes full damage (3d8 [8, 4, 7] = 21 hp) The Troll has +7 to hit, 2 claw and 1 bite hit Dealing a total of 22 damage to Flynn 3d6 (+4 to each) 5(+4)+3(+4)+2(+4)=22 /DM

DM/OOC DAY 8 Tabby takes 10 points of bludgeoning damage from the fall. 100 feet = 10d6 Total of 35 rolled. - 25 for Slow Fall (Tabby’s level [5] x 5 = 25. 10 points damage. /DM

? DM/ A new adventure begins... With the city repairs nearing completion, the Company of Four takes on their next challenge. The distance from Ordulin to Yhaunn is less than 100 miles. You expect the journey to take about a tenday, and prepare the necessary provisions. You spend your final evening in Ordulin with friends in the tavern saying your goodbyes, and receiving small gifts from admirers; flowers, notes, coins... (A total of 72 gp, 44 sp) North is given a crude Wand with a single Cone of Cold charge. The giver says it has been in his family for four generations and once saved his father’s life. Sweet William (if accepted) has his axe handle wrapped in the leather claimed to be of a young red dragon and therefore offering a Protection from Fire aura. The Tanner says he traded 30 beaver pelts and a silver dagger for the half-meter strip of hide when the merchant proved it could not be burned. And we’ve already discussed Tabby’s bracelet, but I’m adding it here again for convenience. North was able to identify it as being magical. Each of the trinkets holds a single use spell, the same way scrolls are consumable. Over the winter months Tabby asks every Mage she meets to help her identify the spells. One is Darkness. One is Protection from Evil and Good. And the third is True Seeing. One offered you over 100gp for the bracelet, mainly for the True Seeing spell. You were also able to get the Jet Gemstone enchanted with North’s ‘Fists and Feet of Fiery Fury’ enchantment added to the bracelet. On a Critical Hit you add 1d6 fire damage per level. . . . Shortly before sunrise the following morning, you depart from Ordulin and start off toward Yhaunn. A surprisingly large crowd has gathered in the early hours at the East gate to cheer you on, tossing flowers and well wishing. The early morning air is crisp but the sky is clear. As the sun rises ahead of you, you follow the High Road toward Clear Water Forest and the locally famous Clear Water Falls, a cascading rapids rumored to be protected by Dryads or other Fae beings. The forest is mostly fir and aspen with small clusters of white birch along the roadway. It takes two hours to clear the forest, and by midmorning it is well behind you. Cresting a small rise an hour or so before noon, you see a group of workers about a hundred yards or so up ahead. Using shovels and buckets and ox carts, they appear to be doing something to the next half-league of road. As you approach, a pair of uniformed male elves step out from the shade of a large maple. They wear red silk sashes draped over their right shoulders and tied at the left hip. The taller of the two, a black haired, skinny fellow, moves to the center of the road and holds up a palm, stating, “Hail, and well met, journeymen. By proclamation of Lord Ashbury, Duke of Stillwater Ridge and Mayor Regent of Yuthgalaunt, we are authorized to collect a toll of six silvers per foot, per traveler.” He looks briefly at Sweet William, overlooks North completely, and approaches Brother Ashley. “Goodman,” he addresses the Cleric. “The toll does not apply to you, but the others are required...” He pauses, having noticed Tabby. “... to pay for the maintenance of the road,” he continues. “The storms three weeks ago caused the Stillwater River to breach her levee.” He gestures toward the workers. “It is now passable, but it’ll be two more days labor at least before it’s safe. You aren’t merchants?” Ashley shakes his head ‘no’. “We’re travelers on our way to-“ “Travelers pay six silver per foot,” the Elf interrupts, turning to better examine Tabby. “Twenty-four for this,” he states matter-of-factly, glancing briefly at the end of her arms. “What is it?” “She,” Brother Ashley retorts sternly, “is called Tabby. And-“ The black haired Elf has turned his attention to his younger, ginger companion, who is attempting to explain. “Tabaxi, sir. From the jungles of Maztica.” “-she can speak for herself!” Brother Ashley finishes, exasperatedly. The dark haired Elf turns back to Tabby, interest now expressed in his eyes. “You can speak?” he asks with am

DM/ Eleint 30: Day 8 Location: the road to Ordulin Time: Dawn After a night of education, music, food, and conversation, the group sleeps deeply without nightmares and wakes shortly before dawn, quickly packs and says their goodbyes, and departs with plenty of bread and cold duck in their packs. Moods are high spirited after the wonderful night of rest. You're nearly a league into your travel before the first rays of sunlight crest the pines. Ashley wipes the moss from a weather worn milestone and sees Ordulin is 4 leagues on. At this pace, the Bard reckons they can reach the city by midday, even with frequent rests for the Gnome’s short legs. Mooncrawler frequently moves ahead a hundred paces to scout for bandits or other potential threats, often encouraging Tabby to assist. Most of the morning passes without incident. Frequent breaks for resting legs and eating snacks makes the journey somewhat pleasant. The day starts clear and warms nicely. Then, roughly a half league from your destination, Tabby smells smoke- not cooking fire smoke. Battlefield smoke. The acrid burning of lightning and magic. And a strange foul scent she doesn’t recognize. But when she sees the look on Mooncrawler’s face, the young Tabaxi feels her stomach churn. The party progresses much more slowly and cautiously now. High noon comes and goes as your travel becomes defensive, protected, and vigilant. The stench of burning grows stronger and now and then a fine layer of fallen ash can be seen on sporadic leaves. Finally, around mid-afternoon, the road bends to reveal the outskirts of Ordulin. The city is under siege! Outlying farms are either ablaze or smoldering ruins. Explosions pop within the city, and many shouts can be heard even at this distance. The foul aroma that Tabby couldn’t identify is quite prevalent now. Mooncrawler says a single word,“Brimstone”. The Bard looks at each of you, sheer terror in his gaze. “It’s true, then. It can’t be, but it must.” He goes on to explain the recent history of Ordulin. On Nightal 1 1374 DR, a sharran priestess named Elyril Hraven summoned a planar rift into the Plane of Shadow, and a nexus from that plane, called the Adumbral Calyx, poured out of the rift, completely annihilating the city. Kesson Rel then emerged from the nexus and proceeded to animate the dead, incorporating the resulting monsters into his army. All that was left of the city was a dangerous whirlpool of uncontrollable shadowstuff. The goddess Shar had ordered this be done so she could destroy Toril but the god Mask had delayed her by trapping her within the 'Ordulin Maelstrom'. She raged against the prison that was the Maelstrom, slowly opening a hole into the void that would eventually destroy the planet, but Vasen Cale, channeling the power of Amaunator and Lathander; and Drasek Riven, wielding the divinity of Mask, closed the hole at the centre of the Maelstrom. Then, the floating Netherese city of Sakkors was deliberately crashed into Ordulin by Magadon Kest in order to destroy the Maelstrom itself. “It is believed by some that Shar was destroyed, but most think she is still only imprisoned somewhere within the void,” he explains. “The tales warn of Kesson Rel returning to Ordulin one day to release her, but he’s supposed to be trapped in the Plane of Shadows and only Shar can free him. A catch-22 scenario if you will, keeping them both trapped forever.” He wipes his face. “But it seems someone has decided to try to free Shar. And not only did they bring an army, the cursed fool managed to summon a demon!” And what do you do? /DM OOC- I'll leave it there for a moment. Feel free to ask the Bard questions, if you have any.

DM/ OOC- re: moving forward in the campaign Ok gang. We’re currently at: Tabby, female, Tabaxi monk Ashley, male, Human, cleric North, male, Gnome, wizard Sweet William, male, Half-Orc, barbarian Bre’tah, female, Orc, ranger NPC There is a manticore high in the trees up above the Blue Moss Orc village. Sweet William has posted his action. Once the others have posted I’ll follow up there. Is everyone ready to continue? /DM

DM/ It’s nighttime. You are in high grass. And there is a rocky groove, most likely a drainage channel leading to this grate. Fortunately, it isn’t yet the rainy season. You don’t see or hear anyone outside. Sweet William quickly grabs a larger rock from the draining ditch. You are in a ravine of sorts between two small hills covered with evergreens. A few birds fly off from the nearby trees. And what do you do? /DM

Agility? Tabby has that in spades!

?DM/ Brother Ashley rest a hand on the unconscious Drow’s shoulder and whispers a prayer of healing. The dark Elf begins to blink and move but again the brand flickers a pale crimson light and he slumps into unconsciousness. . . And what do you do? /DM

DM/ North determines that the door, as well as the tunnel and drainage system, are obviously of Dwarven design and construction. The specific clan or subtype of Dwarf is unknown, but since there is little artistry in effect, it is likely Duergar in origin. Everything- the tunnel, the door, the drain- is strictly functional and not necessarily aesthetically pleasing. Though quality work, the builders took no pride in their efforts. The door is inscribed with script that Borblesorp reads aloud; “Warning 5. Too close to water. Well that was a bit obvious wasn’t it?” Glancing around the 10 foot area, he answers, “I still don’t recognize anything yet. I can’t says that I’ve ever been here before.” Sweet William opens the door, pulling it in toward the group. Peering through into the darkness on the other side and using the axe to light it, you see a large (90 feet East/West by 50 feet North/South) open room. Before you can get a good look around, a voice calls out in Ghukliak (goblin), “Oi! Who be there! Stand your ground! State your business!” Six goblins in leather armor, apparently taken by surprise, suddenly scramble to grab shields and cluster into a phalanx with javelins planted at their boots- angled for defense. It’s obvious that these are no ordinary goblins. They’ve been trained as soldiers. They don’t attack. They hold their position in the South West corner, about 50 feet away from your door. (Either Ashley or Borblesorp can translate, so everyone knows what was said.) And what do you do? /DM

OOC: forgot to start a new thread for the new day, my bad DM/ Eleint 1492, 27: Day 5 Location: the Northride to Voonlar Time: midafternoon After several minutes of digging, rocking it back and forth, struggling with the slippery mud, and tugging on the wheel, the cart eventually -shlurps- free and falls over. It's a two wheeled cart with a flat bed, wider than the donkey and apparently sized for a cow to pull. The wheels are, or rather were, solid, flat wooden boards cut into meter high circles. This isn't a fancy spoked wheel cart. It's of very crude craftsmanship and in poor condition, however, with a bit of ingenuity and North's cantrip cast about a dozen times, the cart becomes salvageable. And though it wobbles from not properly fitting the donkey, it is more than sufficient for holding your packs and even carrying a rider. Satisfied with your work, you continue on, one cart wealthier and only having spent an hour. The cart will slow your hourly progress slightly, but there's no hurry to reach Voonlar. By mid-afternoon, three hours later, you are preparing to rest again when North smells smoke. Not wildfire smoke, but a cooking food smoke. Through the trees East of the road you see a rickety old fence with a cornfield beyond and possibly a farmhouse behind. And what do you do? /DM

DM I'm trying to sort of keep things organized by using the subject line for reference. Also, I think it would be helpful if everyone starts their post with their character's name, just so we can keep track of who's talking/asking/acting/posting/whatever. So go ahead and reply to this thread with your character sheet whene'er you're ready. Thanks! DM

DM Eleint 26: Day 4 Location: the Blue Moss Village Time: evening/sunset Flavor text: O the wild trees of home with their sounding dresses, locks powdered with butterflies and cheeks of blue moss. Laurie Lee “Hello Friends. We are not here to trespass. We have heard stories about the wise and brave members of the 'Blue Moss Tribe'. Who are not only wise beyond their years and strong in combat but are very welcoming to wanderers looking for a place to stay during the night. Have you seen such noble orcs?" The first Orc appears confused, and looks nervously to his companion. The second Orc lowers his spear, and stares past Ashley at the female Orc hiding her face in the back of the group. "We have heard that the Blue Moss Clan lies somewhere around these parts. We only wish to rest and resupply there, before continuing on our way again the following morn. If this is allowed, we would appreciate the chance to do so. If not, we shall turn back around, and make our way in the opposite direction. We do not wish there to be any trouble here." “Eh??” the second Orc questions, his attention drawn to Raina now. “Rest? Resupply? Barter! Yes yes.” He turns and shoves the first Orc toward the small village a few dozen meters behind them, gesturing for you to follow. The village is basically only three longhouses and a series of kennels. A makeshift combat training ‘arena’ is overgrown and doesn’t appear to have been used for years. A few dilapidated scarecrows remains with rotting spears falling out. A small pond in the center of the village gives the tribe their namesake. The blue moss is being cultivated and gathered. Young orcs, both male and female, gather handfuls and spread it over a large net to dry. You count roughly two dozen youths working, moving in and out of the largest (center) longhouse. From what you can see, apparently the men gather in the second longhouse, and the women separately in the third. The elders are seated around a fire pit at the large center longhouse open door, examining small pails of moss brought to them by the children. In total there are less than fifty orcs in this tribe, and only nine appear to fully grown healthy strong male warriors. On closer examination, you realize that the female orcs seem to be slightly larger than the males. It’s likely that they are equal warriors to the males. And as you approach the elders, you are surprised to see that even the oldest looking orcs still have straight backs and obvious musculature. You’re brought to the group of elders at the fire, and one of them sends a child into the longhouse. A moment later the child comes back out with whom you can assume to be the village shaman; an older male Orc with lots of blue feathers braided into his long dreadlocks, and his face painted white. Unlike the other orcs, he does not wear leather a leather tunic and breeches, but a short silk purple robe trimmed with tiny silver bells. “Trespassers,” he states firmly in common. “Why?” The first Orc sentry stammers, “B..B..Barter.” The second Orc sentry points to Bre’tah. “Come forward,” the Shaman says in Orcish. “Tell me your name. Why are you here?” Each Orc tribe has its own dialect, just as different humans have different regional speech colloquialisms. The Shaman speaks Orcish with a distinctly human accent. Bre’tah glances at North and makes her way to the front of the group. She explains, in Orcish, that she is leading the company to Myth Drannor, that her companions are all under her protection, and that she speaks for both the Tall Oaks and White Pines tribes. “We seek sanctuary for the night, then we will be on our way.” The Shaman seems to consider her words deeply, then nods. “Until the sun rises,” he says in common, then turns and goes back into the longhouse. A few younger orcs gather around, curiously. One reaches out to touch Tabby’s tail, but his hand is swatted away by an elder before any contact. The young ones sniff and cock their heads and whisper to each other. And what do you do? /OOC- anyone can post now /DM

DM/ OOC Feel free to continue your conversations, but I’ve posted a disturbance occurring much later in the night. /DM