#feathergale

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

alright so

GorseEmberBirchFox kit order (starting with G and E):

--Lightswan (adoptive) 

--Molechive, Froststorm (adoptive)

--Ashmint (adoptive)

--Proteafang, Doefire, Jaykit, Fressiakit (bio)

They then become a poly with Foxfire and Birchflight.

Then Gorseheart has these kits with Birch:

--Adderclaw, Larksnow, Haretuft

only a moon before Ember has these kits with Fox:

--Cloudstep, Sootshade

Later, Birch and Fox have their own kits together:

--Maplefang, Feathergale, Toadjay, Shellminx

Finally, Gorse and Ember have a second bio litter:

--Chukarvole, Pasquelull, Tritoniafinch, Choughwolf

===============================

===============================

Age Differences For The Kits:

1) Lightswan was adopted when she was roughly four moons old (this age could change as it is an estimation).

2) Molechive and Froststorm died five moons after Lightswan at age five moons, making her five moons older than them.

3) Ashmint died at two moons old twenty-three moons after Molechive and Froststorm died, making them twenty-six moons older than him.

4) Proteafang, Doefir, Fressiakit, and Jaykit were born one moon after Ashmint died and are three moons younger than him. Protea and Doe were adults when their parents became a poly and when both their younger siblings were born (Jay and Fressia died). Possibly around twenty moons, making them that much older.

5) Adderclaw, Larksnow, and Haretuft are one moon older than Cloudstep and Sootshade (their mothers being pregnant at almost the same time).

6) Maplefang, Feathergale, Toadjay, and Shellminx were born when 5 became apprentices, making their age gap about six-and-a-half.

7) Chukarvole, Pasquelull, Tritoniafinch, and Choughwolf were born when 6 were older apprentices, about two or so moons away from gaining their full names. Also possible they were born after 3 earned their names. This makes them about ten to thirteen moons younger.

----------

@starfalcon555

Going with a big timespan for Ashmint because it’s odd to have so many kits go to the DF at around the same time, so want to spread it out a bit.

[fountainstrangerart]

With Halloween coming soon IRL, and Mischief Night coming in game now was the perfect time to finally give one of my PCs a proper Halloween costume :3

Its time for the bard to dress up in glamoured studded leather armor, and dress up as a knight. Specifically as the mysterious Feathergale Knight Balmung, with Alternis Dim as my voice claim for this costume he can use since he has he Actor feat~

*** DnD Commissions are open, DM for more details

[cagemasterfantasy]

Feathergale Spire from Princes of the Apocalypse the hideout of the Howling Hatred

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

TUNNEL FAMILY MASTERPOST

Full list (in order of generation, alphabetical, and gender):

Birchflight (mother/grandmother)

Emberdawn (mother/grandmother)

Foxfire (father/grandfather)

Gorseheart (father/grandfather)

----

Choughwolf (daughter)

Chukarvole (daughter)

Cloudstep (daughter)

Doefire (daughter)

Feathergale (daughter)

Fressiakit (daughter)

Froststorm (daughter [adoptive])

Halfsong (daughter [adoptive])

Haretuft (daughter)

Lightswan (daughter [adoptive, formerly Brokenkit])

Maplefang (daughter)

Pasquelull (daughter)

Proteafang (daughter)

Tritoniafinch (daughter [mtf])

Adderclaw (son)

Ashmint (son [adoptive])

Fireclaw (son [adoptive, ftm])

Jaykit (son)

Larksnow (son)

Molechive (son [adoptive])

Shellmink (son)

Sootshade (son)

Thornbloom (son [adoptive])

Toadjay (son)

Mallowblight (kit [adoptive])

Nettlekit (kit)

Twitchkit (kit)

----

Ospreyflight (granddaughter [Doefire's kit, mtf])

Scorpionscale (granddaughter [Doefire's kit])

Coyotefire (grandson [Doefire's kit, ftm])

Ibexspots (grandson [Doefire's kit])

Ashytoes (granddaughter [Proteafang's kit])

Woolcardersteps (granddaughter [Proteafang's kit])

Cardinalember (grandson [Proteafang's kit])

Trillflea (grandson [Proteafang's kit])

Proteafang is mates with Tawnytrot (an adoptive FadingstarXFleathistle kit). Tawny is the bio mother to Ashy and Woolcarder, while Protea is the bio mother to Trill and Cardinal. The litters were born close to the same time. The couple's friend, Webfang (a bio LilywaterXWebstripe, adoptive ScaleearsXIvyspots kit), was the donor for both.

Doefire is in a poly with Weepingwobble (a FadingstarXFleathistle kit) and Lilyclaw (a bio LilywaterXWebstripe, adoptive ScaleearsXIvyspots kit). Weeping is the father to Ibex and Coyote, while Lily is the father to Osprey and Scorpion.

========================

========================

========================

========================

Kit order+ages:

--Lightswan (adoptive) 

--Molechive, Froststorm (adoptive)

--Ashmint (adoptive)

--Proteafang, Doefire, Jaykit, Fressiakit (bio)

~~~~~~~~~

They then become a poly with Foxfire and Birchflight.

Then Gorseheart has these kits with Birch:

--Adderclaw, Larksnow, Haretuft

only a moon before Ember has these kits with Fox:

--Cloudstep, Sootshade

~~~~~~~~~

Later, Birch and Fox have their own kits together:

--Maplefang, Feathergale, Toadjay, Shellmink

~~~~~~~~~

Gorse and Ember have a second bio litter:

--Chukarvole, Pasquelull, Tritoniafinch, Choughwolf

~~~~~~~~~

Mallowkit had younger siblings and harsh parents, and took those younger siblings somewhere they would be safe. They decide to take them to Emberdawn, who was nursing do to currently being a surrogate.

The family decide to take the kits in as well as Mallowkit, and name them

--Mallowblight, Thornbloom, Fireclaw, Halfsong

~~~~~~~~~

Finally, Birchflight became pregnant with Gorseheart's and Foxfire's kits at the same time and had:

--Twitchkit (BxG), Nettlekit (BxF)

========================

========================

Age Differences For The Kits:

1) Lightswan was adopted when she was roughly four moons old (this age could change as it is an estimation).

~~

2) Molechive and Froststorm died five moons after Lightswan at age five moons, making her five moons older than them.

~~

3) Ashmint died at two moons old twenty-three moons after Molechive and Froststorm died, making them twenty-six moons older than him.

~~

4) Proteafang, Doefire, Fressiakit, and Jaykit were born one moon after Ashmint died and are three moons younger than him. Protea and Doe were adults when their parents became a poly and when both their younger siblings were born (Jay and Fressia died).

~~

5) Adderclaw, Larksnow, and Haretuft are twenty-five moons younger than Proteafang and Doefire, and were born four moons after their parents became an official poly. They are also one moon older than Cloudstep and Sootshade (their mothers being pregnant at almost the same time).

~~

6) Maplefang, Feathergale, Toadjay, and Shellmink were born thirty-two moons after 5 earned their full names, making them at least 44 moons younger

~~

7) Chukarvole, Pasquelull, Tritoniafinch, and Choughwolf were born 376 moons after 6 was born, making them that much younger.

~~

8) Mallowblight was 4.5 moons old when their younger siblings were born. When they were old enough to walk (waddle, more of), Mallowkit lead them to milk, and they joined the Tunnel family. This was roughly 142 moons after 7 were born, making Halfsong, Thornbloom, and Fireclaw that much younger and Mallowblight 137.5 moons younger.

~~

9) Twitchkit and Nettlekit were born 27 moons after 8 were adopted, making them that much younger than Halfsong, Thornbloom, and Fireclaw, and 31.5 moons younger than Mallowblight.

.

=================================

=================================

=================================

=================================

Going with a big timespan for Ashmint because it’s odd to have so many kits go to the DF at around the same time, so want to spread it out a bit.

That's also why I stretched out their ages from the original: they have so many kits because they're dead for eternity, so why have all the kits born within a lifetime of each other?

The 7th litter was born so long after 6 because all the parents had a litter with the other (FoxXBirch, GorseXBirch, GorseXEmber, EmberXFox), so none of them felt a 'need' for another litter. It's possible they weren't planned.

The specific number, 376, was chosen because that is twice the age of Mistystar, who lived a long life.

--

@starfalcon555 @wills-woodland-warriors @ambitiousauthor @indigo-flightly-falls @frightnightindustries @elementaldeityoffood

@liberhoe

Tagging you all just because this took a lot of effort ha

[wandering-silence-things]

Hi everyone. Been a little while since I’ve posted some maps... so here ya go. Still working our way through Princes of the Apocalypse. This is what I created for Feathergale Spire. Still working on Rivergard Keep but hopefully that will be up soon. Happy Gaming! 

[twinkleslime]

Artistic liberties of a scene in Princes of the Apocalypse at Feathergale Spire. We all plummeted off the edge fighting the big bad

[fjord-hexorc]

My worst NPC death.

I run a (currently) 3-person party, that is soon to be a 4-person party. They are going through Princes of the Apocalypse and since there’s only three of them, I decided to allow my first ever PC to be a tag-along NPC for them. Tokaz, my Way of the Four Elements Half-Orc Monk is very near and dear to my heart. His backstory fits into literally any campaign and he had development and fears and all that jazz.  (Spoilers for Princes of the Apocalypse) Had. As of last night, the party were fighting in the Feathergale Spire, after Thurl failed to persuade them to join him on top of the tower (for a sacrifice, the party didn’t know but was suspicious). After a long fight in the spire itself, one of the Feathergale Knights fled to the top of the tower where the Howling Hatred Initiates and two additional Feathergale Knights on vultures were waiting for them. The vultures were guided to pick up the players and toss them off the side of the building. At first, they weren’t successful, so the party got complacent with their tactics (this included Tokaz). At 1 HP, one of the Feathergale knights leaped off the side of the spire(this is a special surprise for later).  Another round of combat brought us to the vultures again, who successfully picked up Tordek (party’s Dwarf Cleric/Druid), and picked up Tokaz. The party’s ranger, Grenda was able to shoot down the Vulture carrying Tokaz right at the edge of the spire, so Tokaz was safe but unconscious at this point. Tordek gets taken off of one side of the spire, clinging for dear life to the vulture’s leg. Willow (former PC turned NPC, she was being corrupted by the cult but knew her old friends wouldn’t be attacking for no reason) jumped off of the side of the building after Tordek, yelling at him to let go. Tordek was able to get out of the clutches of the vulture and Willow immediately cast Feather Fall on both of them. They were safe. But unbeknownst to the other two party members on top of the tower who were fighting off the rest of the Howling Hatred Initiates... The Feathergale Knight with 1 HP returned to the top of the tower on a vulture from the stables below. Tokaz had 1 successful death save, and 2 failures at this point. Tokaz was immediately lifted and dropped off to the side of the spire opposite of where Willow and Tordek were. 

Grenda and Colfax (the final PC, the Arcane Trickster Hafl-Elf Rogue) were busy battling to even see it happen. Colfax ran to the edge to find Tordek, but instead got a blast from a Howling Hatred Initiate with gust and she too, got knocked off the side of the tower.

Tokaz made a successful saving throw. 2:2

However, having watched the entirety of this, an Aaracockra group that has been following the party bolted forward to assist Colfax, Willow, and Tordek. They finished off the Feathergale Knight pestering them down there, and Grenda mopped up the final Initiates up top. 

But Tokaz was still plummeting. He made one final death saving throw, and it was a success. But the moment he became stable, he met the floor of the canyon below - a full 500 ft. drop from the top of the spire.

The party would learn of Tokaz’s fate as they exited the spire. Tordek molded the earth around Tokaz’s remains (which weren’t much after that kind of drop) and did his cleric/druid duties.

And that’s how Tokaz, my first Character and my player’s tag-along NPC, died last night and it KILLED ME. 

[gameswithfisch]

Tonight I’m DMing for Our D&D Group

I’m finally going to start throwing in some Princes of the Apocalypse... The party is all around level 5-6, but I’m starting them off with the Lord of Lance Rock which is technically a level 1 session, but I’m amped up the monsters... Point is, I’m real nervous about it going terribly.

It’s going to go real quick. I’m hoping to supplement by throwing in a random encounter with the Sacred Flame cultists and maybe a mention of the Feathergale Knights flying by while traveling... Build some of the story up that should be coming. I’m a little sad I’m not starting with them at level one or two... The Believers side quest with the Moving Stones would be fun, but I feel like we’re past that.  I feel like if I can just introduce the Dessarin Valley and get them interacting with things, the whole Mirabarran whatever should go easier next time I have to DM.

Wish me luck. Let’s see how this goes.

[dndbabes]

Queen Aerisi

want to get caught up? click this link

We take a short rest. Fey tries to pet Snowball, but backs off when he sighs. We continue travelling, set up camp, and Fey puts Haste, Featherfall, and Cure Wounds (from Tobi) into her new ring. 

In the morning, Fey’s hair is white- her eyes are all white, no coloured parts, and her dress is a tangle of thorns. This morning, she introduces herself as “Wolf”. She learns Ash’s real name is, in fact, Ash and not Yellow. She also learns that Naivara has a real name, but she has people looking for her so she goes by “Blue”. Tobi, the honest idiot with no tact.

We travel a bit before finding our way to the Howling Valley, where we know the Air Temple resides. Here’s our plan: Fey and Roscoe pretend to be initiaties. Naivara is a spider, in Roscoe’s clothing. Ash is invisible. Tobi is... a prisoner because he’s too loud to serve any other purpose. Fey and Roscoe are going to pretend to have captured Tobi.

We get to familiar chasm, and the party manages to save Tobi from falling to his death. Fey’s cover name is “Andello” and Roscoe’s is “Marc”. Ash is already invisible, Tobi is tied up, and we head inside. Moving through, Fey makes a very convincing guard. Tobi is growling it up. We’re all very convincing.

We see a the same stone obelisks we saw before, then we see the stone pyramid. We see a knight, atop a wyvern. Fey readies to slash Tobi’s ropes the minute that things go south. We approach the moat. In the moat, we see a humanoid form moving. We all see many, many shiny things at the bottom. 

The moat is ~20 ft deep, the creature is a bout 12 ft tall. As we step onto the bridge, the wyvern rider lands right in front of us. He buys our Lies that Fey and Roscoe captured Tobo. Roscoe, claiming to be an initiate, and Fey claiming to want to join.

We keep going towards the Queen. We go up the stairs, and there’s a room 5 initiates, a feathergale knight, and a person wearing feathered robes and a cowl. They’re held aloft and chanting in a language we don’t really know. There’s a pit, with howling winds coming out of it. The cowled figure approaches the group. He believes Roscoe’s bullshit lies.

We ascend to the second level. This room looks like it used to house some sort of creature. Griffon stalls, maybe. There are large windows at the back of the stalls. 

We head to the third, and final chamber. It’s 70 ft tall, and 60 ft wide. The ceiling is 20 ft above us and into the floor we can see a etched map of Ti’ar’basil. The room is lined with pillars, which have fine blue drapes between them. We see a half-ef playing a bone flute in one corner of the room, 5 initiates around him performing with varying degrees of success.

Upon her throne, we see the Queen. A bold looking blue elf, lazily holding a fine silver spear, with the a purple gem affixed at the head of it. The gem looks like an eye, similar to the one on Ironfang. She’s wearing a elegant elven gown and she has 2 feathered, golden wings upon her back.

There are two others next to her throne, wearing breastplates and standing at attention. The queen has a tiara made of platinum upon her head. Fey detects that her wings are, in fact, illusions. 

Fey’s smooth talk wins the Queen over, then she starts questioning Tobi. He’s a really, really bad liar but that... works in our favour in this situation. Tobi gets lightning blasted because he’s being an asshole.

It’s all going well... until Fey suggests that her and the Queen have a private audience. The Queen passes, Tobi’s ropes are slashed, and we’re rolling some initiative! This is where this session ended, but i’m just going to smoosh two into one. One session was all combat, anyways.

We’re all Fucking Nervous. 

The Queen makes the chamber windy as hell. Ash shadow arrows the priest. He’s hurt, but unfortunately not blinded. The bard plays a high note, hitting everyone except for Ash. Tobi gets hit with Confusion, in the air cult, yet again🙃. Everyone else is fine tho.

The Queen starts floating then lightning bolts both Fey and Tobi. Fey saves, but not Tobi. Tobi is Very Confused, and yet his first instinct is still to punch the priest right next to him. He misses tho. 

Fey casts Slow on both guards, the priest, the Queen, and the bard. Everyone except the guards fail. Fey gets punched by something invisible, almost dropping her Slow spell. 

The guards go to hit Roscoe and Fey. The guard misses Roscoe... instead hitting his priest friend. Roscoe KO’s the Priest, then punches the guard and manages to stun him! 

Naivara casts Thunderwave on all the initiates and the bard. All the initiates are dead now. The bard is knocked back and hurt, but now dead. The Queen sees Naivara, not a spider now, and starts yelling about how she “stole her throne”. Naivara is as confused as the rest of us. She gets lightning bolted.

Tobi and Naivara don’t save, Roscoe and Fey do. Tobi is knocked unconscious. The Queen still be slowed, however. Ash shoots the guard next to Fey.

The bard blasts us all with Shatter and Tobi fails a death save. The Queen’s lair action is a spell. She goes invisible, still slowed. Fey ice knives the Queen, missing her but the ice shattering hits her. She’s visible again. 

Fey is down and slow is broken. The other guard then goes to hit Roscoe. Roscoe hexes the stunned guy and kills a guard. Naivara healing word’s Fey, then heals Tobi (on 2 failed death saves.)

The Queen lightning bolts Fey + Naivara. Ash kills the last guard. The bard forces Ash to make a Wis save and Ash gets hit with whisper damage. The lair action, a lightning bolt, also hits Ash. 

The invisible man hits Naivara. Roscoe hits the bard a whole bunch. Naivara turns Tobi into a giant ape, and herself into a giant elk. TIME TO DO THE BIG DAMAGE!

The Queen yells again about how Naivara “took her crown from her” and casts a Death Cloud. It knocks Fey out. 

Ash kills the bard. The Queen fires a Ray of Frost at Roscoe. Tobi fists the Queen as a big monkey.

Ash is getting struck by invisi-guy. Roscoe moves into the Stink Cloud to try and heal Fey. He heals her, then drags them both out of the Stink Cloud. Naivara takes fart damage, then charges the Queen. The Queen blows into the horn on her hip, summoning things probably. She does not move. 

The Queen gets hit by Ash, then goes invisible. Tobi hits ger a few times despite disadvantage, Fey does another Ice Knife. Roscoe gets attacked, going down.

Naivara heals herself then charges the Queen.

The Queen Is FucKING DEAD. (Jesse needed to lie down on the floor, despite the fight not being over.)

A large blue Djinn appears. He holds Tobi aloft in his own personal tornado, and does the same to Naivara. 

Ash, noticing the horn, shoots it. He ends up destroying the horn. Fey heals Roscoe with the ring, and approaches the Djinn, telling him he can either “work with us or die.” The invisi-guy then hits Fey. Roscoe grabs the Queen’s spear then tries to hit invisi-guy.

The Djinn drops the tornados on his turn, and thanks Ash. Ash asks him to kill the Wyvern Rider that just appeared and the Djinn is like “Sure thing buddy.” 

TLDR: they’re killed very easily by him mostly. We only helped a little bit. The Djinn GTFO’s, we loot. The Queen had stuff that is probably worth a lot. The instruments are made of human bone. Great™.

We ended there, because that fight took 30 hours. (literally, the fight was a session by itself.)

[durrndurr]

Feathergale Spire

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Feathergale design!

Dubious little creature getting up to mischief. The girl is demonic in nature. Very icky, no good. /j

Her mentor is Primroseflower!

if she wasn't born in Hell I would assume she ascended down from Heaven--as far as beauty goes

personality wise...yeah Hell for sure, demon spawn

[hoodoo12]

Kiara

First is Kiara. Half-elf druid who is incredibly socially awkward, and also damn clumsy. Her charisma was pretty low and she was not very good with people, even though the person who played her wanted her to be loved by all. She loved to charge into battle as an ape, or summon giant toads to do the hard fighting.

( @keyumi  for this incredible piece of art!)

          Her back to the wall, the door nearby in case she wanted to make a quick exit, Kiara brought her stein to her lips and feigned drinking.

          Talia sat close beside her with her hood up and arms crossed. It didn’t take much to imagine the younger Druid’s unsmiling expression, staring out into the crowded tavern. Ffion was actually on the bar, playing some raucous song to the delight of the masses—from here Kiara couldn’t tell if the bard’s music was magically laced and that was why the patrons liked her, or if it was late enough they were just all that drunk. As for Elora, she was nowhere to be seen. Probably out in a tree somewhere.

          Kiara thought that sounded like not a bad idea.

          People were loud. And stupid. And short-sighted. And they took whatever advantage they could, with no regards to the impact their actions may have on anything else—animal, plant, or mineral—in the world. And oh gods, they stunk.

          She wanted to loathe them all.

          But since being paired up with this small group, she’d had to grudgingly admit her worldview had been expanded. Not that her party was in anyway a small cross-section of the general populous! Two Druids, a bard, and a ranger? When they’d first met up the unspoken sentiment they’d all seemed to share was that none of them were going to make it very far.

          That was a while ago, however, and here they all still were.

          With Talia, Ffion, and Elora, she’d found some friends. They argued, true, and occasionally she could barely stand to be with them, but they all had each other’s back when push came to shove. And she’d met and rode with the Feathergale Knights, and been made an offer to join them. Plus there was the goatherd, Jontar, who’d become a good local contact and ally—surprising not only the group, but him, she imagined.             It may be worthwhile to get to know him better.

          Talia interrupted her private thoughts by kicking her under the table.

          “I’m going outside,” the younger girl told her.

          Kiara nodded.

          “You staying here?”

          Kiara looked over the crowd again. If Talia left and Ffion was still entertaining, she’d be alone at the table. Never mind her wildly plaited hair and tattoos and her antlered headpiece on the floor near her; after the ape-transforming incident, few of the townspeople dared approach her.

          Across the smoke-filled room, however, she managed to catch Jontar’s eye. He noticed her looking, said something to his companion, and started towards her little corner.

          “No, I’m good,” she told Talia, who radiated impatience.

          “Whatever,” the teen sighed, and slipped passed her and out the door without another word.

          The small blast of clean air was gone by the time Jontar made it to her table.

          “I wouldn’t have expected to see you here,” he said, taking a seat.

          Kiara shrugged, and pretended to drink again. She wondered if he was here because of Ffion, but then why would he seek her out?

          “I’m getting more comfortable around people,” she admitted.

          “Aye. Too bad they’re not more comfortable around you,” he chuckled.

          She laughed a little too, because it was expected. She watched him examine the dark ink etched into her skin. Usually she never minded the scrutiny, because this was who she was, and these tattoos were the story of her past, but she wondered what he thought of them.

          So, before she put much thought into it, she began explaining them to him.

          The crowd was still loud, the bard was still shouting some inappropriate song lyrics and encouraging everyone to be rowdier. The tavern was still smoky. But for the moment, when Jontar moved from across the table to next to her to hear her stories better, the world shrunk to her and him.

          Kiara told him, with fingers on each individual tattoo, of the events that inspired each one. He asked appropriate questions and was suitably impressed at the proper times.

          When she was done, and the noise of the world started seeping back into her ears again, she realized she’d talked more and explained more of her life with him than she had with most others.

          Jontar touched his stein to hers in a slight toast.

          “I think you deserve an actual drink, after all that,” he told her, as he raised his own again.

          She snorted a laugh and agreed, and followed suit, taking a mouthful of alcohol this time.

          Most people were loud and stupid and short-sighted. Kiara had come to learn, however, that there were good people too, and she wondered how she’d find an artisan to ink the memories of these people and onto her skin.

[sogurikur]

POTA - Garrett & Ceryl, Round 2.

Here’s the other RP log from our PotA campaign. As before, Ceryl is mine, Garrett is @b-e-m-l-t‘s NPC.

This thread was more narrative and serious than the last one. 

To say that Ceryl felt tired would have been an understatement -- he had been tired before in his life, from a long day's journey or a hard day of work, but never like this. Their encounter with the medusa and whatever other entity had spoken to them in those depths, and their arduous flight back to Summit Hall under the darkened sky, had sapped him down to his soul, it felt like. The genasi knew he should take his rest while it was available -- their time was shorter now than it ever had been, and the world waited for no man -- but he couldn't. Not just yet. Instead, it was that shortness of time that weighed on Ceryl like an anvil, and pulled him towards the barracks the moment his words with Ashir had ended.

Bone-weary as he was, whatever energy he could spare as he weaved through paladins and priests in the halls went into presenting himself as at-ease, calm and collected as he always was. It was a ruse that could not hide the shadows gathering under his eyes and the sagging of his shoulders -- but a necessary ruse, all the same. Ceryl had come to realize, in recent days, that people expected him to always be the level-headed and cool one. With the world ending outside and everyone's hope resting on the shoulders of the three of them, they couldn't afford to see him break down or not have his shit together. So he gave a half-hearted smile as he made his way into the barracks, sparing a moment to check in with Seta before heading towards the man he sought.

His father wasn't exactly easy to miss, after all.

"Garrett," Ceryl said, by way of greeting. "Got your hands full here, it looks like, but can you spare a minute?" Or an hour, he thought, though he half expected the man to dodge him again.

Though he had made himself scarce whenever in a room with the lord commander, there was no Ushien Stormbanner ruling the barracks to make him shrink against a wall. He was indeed hard to miss. While clerics and initiates bustled around, tending to more than just their unconscious guest, serfs and townspeople still reeling from Beliard, Garrett stood stock still. He was not a healer, he couldn’t tend to the Feathergale Commander, but he could do something as well as any Paladin.

Behind a hastily put up sheet to shield Thurl from view, Garrett stood stock still a few paces from the end of the sleeping man’s cot. Healers had cleaned and closed wounds and left the Red Lance to stand vigil, and he did so. He hands were folded close to his chest, holding his longbow on end. Two arrows were clasped ready between his fingers. Garrett remembered what had been said of the man in the bed. He would take no chances, not after the last time Felsi, Ashir, and Ceryl had been at Summit Hall. A hundred pounds of force travelling all of eight feet quicker than a breath would end any trouble before it began.

He didn’t look up at first as the genasi approached. He quirked a brow, then turned his head when the voice registered to a face in his memory and he tipped his chin up, lips pressed tight. “He’s not waking up any time soon. What do you need?” He angled his head towards a stool against the wall, occupied by a healer not long before.

For just a moment, Ceryl couldn't help but catch himself staring at the man before him, as he moved past the cleric into the space behind the makeshift curtain. It dawned on him that it was the first time he'd really seen Garrett in his element, or something akin to it. Not putting on an act of being bawdy and drunk, nor cowed underfoot of the lord commander, nor hunched behind a table and scrolls. No, here the man looked like the war cleric that Ceryl knew him to be -- straight backed and at attention, not unlike a chess piece himself. What else was his father really like, he wondered, ringing true to what he'd come there for.

Then his mind registered that yes, idiot, the man had asked him a question -- so he shook it off and ran a hand down his tired face.

"Oh," Ceryl said, started. "No, I don't need anything, it's not that. I just wanted to speak with you a bit."

Nearly the moment he was behind the sheet and out of sight from the rest of the barracks, whatever shreds of his ruse still remained melted away from him. It was just him and Garrett now, so there was no need -- well, and Thurl, but that one wasn't likely to notice. Still, though Ceryl looked like he sorely wanted to just fall upon the stool like a ragdoll, he stopped just before it -- and turned to look at Garrett as though asking for permission to stay.

"Look, I know we agreed to hold off on talking until all this is over, but--" But the sky is black, and the world is ending. But I just watched my friend cut off his own arm, and we aren't even finished yet. But this may be the last chance we get. Ceryl managed to push back those thoughts and wrest up something resembling his usual humor.    "-- ... Well, things have changed now, haven't they?"

Garrett had pointed out the stool that Ceryl took for just the one reason- so he could keep both the genasi and the dormant knight in his eyeline. And somehow that was easier, giving a place for his eyes to fall when looking at Ceryl somehow became difficult, and the moment words left his mouth, it did.

“Things have changed now.” Garrett agreed. His hands tightened on the tip of the bow, fingers unfurling and recurling on the arrows he grasped. The first time Ceryl had come to him like this, and indeed the second, he might have wished for someone to gift him with a hundred pounds of armour piercing bodkin point steel, if only for a quick exit. But that was childish. Time among other clerics and stoic paladins had reminded him that pretense was only so useful, and its use had run out that first day back in Red Larch.

“I thought I'd hired in three casual mercenaries who'd go into this Valley and find all those people camped out in bad weather.” His brow creased as he looked at some point in space between himself and the foot of Thurl’s cot. “They said I could hire myself an army if I wanted. That'll teach me to choose restraint I suppose.” He remembered himself and let out a laugh. “Of all the times I could have chosen to stick to the fucking doctrine.”

Garrett patted the emblazoned red steed on his tabbard by way of apology to the Knight, and finally glanced back to the genasi sagging in his seat. He looked tired. And Garrett couldn't decide if the man looked anything like him or not.

“Let's talk then.”

For his part, as Ceryl near collapsed onto the stool he'd been offered, Thurl may as well not even have been there at all. He spared a glance at the unconscious knight -- the clerics had certainly done a better job taking care of the man than he had -- before his eyes found their way back to Garrett and stayed there. The genasi didn't seem to have the same problem that his father did, instead paying rapt attention to Garrett, as though he was afraid he might miss something if he didn't. Somewhere dimly in the back of his mind, he knew he was probably making the man uncomfortable. Still, he watched.

And he listened. Ceryl had come there that night -- was it night? -- for honesty, and yet had expected it to be largely one-sided. Getting truth from Garrett over the course of the mission had felt like pulling teeth at times, so it was a surprise to hear the man being so frank now. The genasi wasn't sure if it made him feel better to hear Garrett speak of the mission that way, of the should haves and could have beens, and almost started to argue -- after all, if he'd thrown them unknowingly into the fire, so had everyone else. The Harpers had sent him in blind and dumb -- and here Ushien did have half an army, and yet allowed the three casual mercenaries to face horrors in the dark alone all the same. But the 'let's talk then' chased all that away in a heartbeat.

"All right, then," Ceryl said, shifting to sit more upright, but his whole brow creased and he seemed to flounder for a moment. "To be honest, I'm... not actually sure where to start. I don't know anything about you, or who you are, and--"

He stopped himself abruptly, suddenly realizing how childish he sounded and felt, voicing aloud these concerns he'd had for some time now. Still he didn't look away, but gave Garrett a sort of defeated shrug. "I'm sure that seems like the least important thing right now, with everything going on out there. But if not now, then when?"

Looking at the sleeping man was definitely easier than meeting Ceryl’s pleading eye. The longer he glanced at the genasi each time, the more Garrett was able to realise-- yes, he did look like his father.

“You don’t need to play it down, lad.” He tipped his head just slightly.  “I’ve no scrolls to write or people to run off and see.” And that was a truth. The infirmary was growing quieter as the minutes passed, the sag of more than just Ceryl��s shoulders giving away the late hour of the day. “Don’t worry about how a thing’s going to sound, just ask it anyway. The only ones we need explain ourselves to are the gods.”

He pointed a figure upwards, and at last looked over to the younger man. “I’m a Red Lance. Not the only Red Lance, but I’m not bad at the job.” His brow creased even as the corner of his mouth twitched. “I wage a good war and I shoot a fine arrow. Shame those weren’t what’s needed here.” He lifted his chin at Ceryl. “There. That’s a start, isn’t it?”

It's the comment about the gods that causes the first break in Ceryl's focus -- for the first time since arriving, he glances away from Garrett and an odd unsure look passes over his face.

Still, it was fleeting, and the genasi's eyes were back on the man once he began to explain himself -- he truly did not want to miss anything. And it wasn't long before Ceryl was arriving as the same conclusion that his father was. Before, when he'd stared, it was to judge reactions, but now that he was really looking, he too could see the resemblance. It’s the nose, he thought, but the moment Garrett's forehead wrinkled, the genasi had to stifle a smile. There really was no denying it.

The later comment is what gets a genuine reaction out of Ceryl though, a dry and incredulous laugh. "Are you kidding? Those are exactly what's needed here. I wish you'd been with us the last two times we've been down there." It's out of his mouth before he's really registered what he's said, but he pressed on all the same.

"But yes," he says. "It's a good start. The Lord's Alliance dwarf from the delegation, he said--... Well, he said they dread it when you show up because you're called in when things are serious. Is that true?" He paused, tapping his fingers together in thought. "And that can't be all, I assume you're not just a Red Lance." It was a statement laced with implications, but the genasi wasn't sure how to breach that topic just yet.

Garrett drummed his fingers around the well-worn end of the yew bow he held, filling the moments it took him to compose an answer and decide to abandon anything he constructed anyway. He frowned fully at the sleeping form of Thurl.

“A Red Lance isn’t a lot of things, lad.” He pressed his lips together. The three of them had witnessed well enough. Ushien, paladins, and now that damned dwarf, they’d all had few things to say about Garrett and most weren’t a shining review. “I’m a strategist more than a warrior. Asking you to go and flush out that earth cult, sending you into the valley as our back up plan. Hell, even the delegation to begin with was a strategy to make sure I never have to turn up at anyone’s door again.”

He abandoned the train of thought, unsure where it would lead, and finally glanced at Ceryl. “People don’t like me turning up because when I’m right it means they can’t do whatever they want, and when I’m wrong…” He looked to the window and muttered something fluid under his breath in Elvish, before speaking in Common again. “When I get it wrong, the stakes are very, very high. I have a lot of responsibilities to fulfill but Red Lances believe in following fair rules to do it, nothing more than that.”

The half-elf shook his head and looked back at the unmoving charge. “I don’t know if I could have saved that boy’s hand down there, Ceryl, but I’m starting to figure out what the Red Knight would tell me to do next, unyielding wench that she is.” He patted his tabbard again fondly. “Pray, and carry the fuck on.”

If there was any skill Ceryl had cultivated the most over the years, it was listening -- oh, how many nights he had spent sitting around fires, absorbing others' stories and committing them to memory. So, as Garrett spoke, the genasi listened to every word -- though he managed to look a bit chastened as the man went on. Ceryl had a feeling he might have hit on a poor subject, though in truth he'd only meant that Garrett seemed to have more importance in the world than even his son thought. Still, he listened, and did not argue until the man was done.

"You can't blame yourself for all of this going wrong -- it's on us just as much," Ceryl said, and it was spoken not a plea, or a play for pity. Only a fact. The genasi's eyes drifted to the window as well, at the blackened sky, and he shook his head. "We were close -- we could have stopped that medusa's ritual, I think, if we'd been a little faster. If we were any good at strategy. I guess-- " He cut himself off then, seeming to debate what he'd started to say, and a frown darkened his face -- looking so dour did not sit well upon a face so accustomed to smiling. "-- ... I guess it was meant to happen. But you're right, there's nothing to do but keep going."

At that, Ceryl tore his gaze away from the window, and if anything he seemed to deflate further where he sat as he looked back towards Garrett.

"You know, a week ago, saying that wouldn't have bothered me?" he asked the man, gave a wry grin that held absolutely no mirth. "You heard me last time -- things happen for a reason, things always have a way of working out, and so on. I've always thought that, and it's been true. Hell, I still don't think learning about you now was a coincidence. But this shit out there..." He lifted an arm to gesture at the window, before folding them both across his chest. A moment of silence passed before his brow furrowed again, and he looked at his father thoughtfully -- and near reverently. “How did you find your faith? Was it when this all happened before?”

The way the genasi spoke pulled Garrett’s eyes from the prisoner- ward, patient, whatever he was- and though he didn’t meet Ceryl’s eye he returned the courtesy and listened. But that look in the young man’s eye when he looked to the Red Lance made him turn away again.

“Just because you’ve seen some some shit doesn’t mean you’re suddenly wrong, if that’s what you believe.” Hell, at least the kid believed something. Anything. Garrett shook his head, but the corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t have a sermon for you, kid. You’ll have to wander down the hall for that.”

He sighed though, and his shoulder shrugged with the gentle knock of plate armour.

“I had all kinds of faith as a kid, more than I probably should have. But this?” He knocked the hand holding arrows to his chest, to the red knight, and held it there. “There was no Lord’s Alliance back then, not like it all is now. People fought each other for the pettiest shit and I was a kid that thought if everyone was gonna fight, then they should at least fight fair.

“I yelled about it a lot, so some old Red Lance trains me up and it all kinda fits. Maybe it was coincidence, maybe I was just yelling loud enough for a god to hear. Maybe,” he pointed toward Ceryl. “Maybe it was meant to be or some shit like you said, I don’t know. But when this happened the last time, it happened fast. I had a god who could help me make my choices, that’s all they do. It’s different this time but there is still time. Different people are fighting now. Different choices.”

As though he’d realised how long he’d been speaking, quietly and looking at nothing in particular, he shook his head. “Shit, take this with a heap of salt, kid. One boot doesn’t fit ‘em all.” He almost scowled until he realised the expression wouldn’t do anyone any use.

“How about this. When shit gets bad, someone’s usually listening.I found faith when I yelled about. When I asked for it. When you need it most.”

The sermon comment succeed to summon up a quiet laugh from the genasi, but otherwise as Garrett spoke, he simply listened once again. That time, though, Ceryl's focus seemed more distant -- his gaze remained on the other man, and yet he seemed to be looking through the knight rather than at him. And that thoughtful and reverent look still hadn't left his face. Everything Garrett said rang true, and yet felt utterly foreign at the same time -- how alike and unalike they were.

But Ceryl wasn't lost in thought enough to not be paying attention, and at the last bit, he nodded and managed to look genuinely grateful.

"So, just pray and hope for the best, then?" he asked, and accompanying it was the first genuine smile in some time. Tired, but genuine. "Here I thought you might have some secret wisdom for me. But no, I understand -- I think -- and I appreciate it. It hasn't been like any of that for me -- my parents were just simple folk, you know, not really the godly sort--" Ceryl stopped abruptly, once again realizing far too late what had come out of his mouth, and he cringed, and he closed his eyes, and he exhaled slowly. The genasi had adjusted to his newly discovered sire well, but somehow speaking of his... well, his real parents in front of his real father made his stomach turn into knots.

"Anyway," Ceryl continued a moment later, but it was his turn to avoid Garrett's eyes this time, staring at some point on the floor instead. "At most it was just... you say thanks to this god for the spring thaw, and you say thanks that one for a good haul, meaningless shit like that. For my part, I've always believed in fate -- sometimes I might even spare thanks to Istus. But that's not really the same as faith. How can I just... sit by and leave things up to fate with something like this? With all those people out there?"

It was the genasi's turn then, to realize how much he'd been rambling and going on about himself, and his eyes rose back to where Garrett was standing. "I guess it can't hurt to yell and see who's listening. Not for me, but for them."

Garrett made a face a little way through Ceryl’s words, at the name of a god, and when the genasi finished speaking he sighed and shook his head. “You know, those fucking fate gods. That’s a long wait for a horse that never shows up. People give them so much damn credit for the shit that just happens and--”

He took in a sharp breath and looked at Ceryl. Finally, properly looked at the genasi-- his son-- and met his eye. “You’ve got the right idea, Ceryl. Even the gods need people, they’ve got no one to meddle with or help or ignore if there are no people. Far as I’m concerned, you’re doing the right by keeping up with all this shit for people, not gods.”

The half-elf looked back at the sleeping man in the bed, and after a moment’s steadying breath he stepped back and sat heavily on a chair behind him. He set the arrows on the floor and propped the longbow between his knees and scrubbed a hand over his beard. When he spoke again, it was almost quiet, but a little of the brevity had returned.

“There’s always listening. That makes shit like this--” he gestured to the hall, to the paladins of Tyr, and the distinct lack of justice they had seemed to be dealing out in the valley. “--harder to see, because it’s not that their god’s not here. He’s just doing nothing. So fuck the gods, Ceryl. Believe in people.”

Shadowed and tired though they were, Ceryl's eyes widened at Garrett's initial outburst -- but it wasn't until the other man finally truly looked at him that the surprise bloomed across his expression. He'd gotten so used to looking at the side of his father's face, used to the man only glancing at him sidelong, that for the first few seconds, he wasn't even sure how to react. But he listened, and this -- moreso than anything else the man had said so far -- rang true to Ceryl, and hit close to home.

Even as the genasi watched Garrett finally stand down from his position and seat himself, Ceryl was quiet, mulling over that moment and committing it to memory. That sort of... validation from his father felt strange. Unexpected. He hadn't known he'd needed it until it had happened.

Ceryl was shaken from that when Garrett spoke again, and whatever mystified expression still remained on the genasi's face gave way to something far more warm. "I do believe in people," he answered immediately, and truthfully. "I really do. It's hard for me not to."

He hesitated, shifting on the stool to lean forward towards Garrett with his elbows upon his knees, seeming to weigh something in his mind before speaking again. "It feels... odd... talking about them here, but. When my parents found me abandoned, they had no reason to take me in. But they did -- everyone in that village did. Fuck, if I wasn't blue, I'd have never known I wasn't theirs, they cared for me so well." He folded his hands and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, thinking. "And I joined the Harpers because, aside from my family, my mentor is the kindest old bear I've know. Not a single person on this earth he doesn't receive like they're his brother."

For several moments, Ceryl didn't say anything else, only sat quietly and ran his thumbs over each other and kept gazing upwards, seemingly lost in memory. When he finally did speak again, he looked back to Garrett with an odd focus and a bittersweet look on his face. "There's a lot of shitty people in the world. But when there's people like that -- and like you -- that’s all that matters to me."

Garrett let his head rest back against the cold stone wall and for the first time watched Ceryl properly as the genasi spoke. Even when he was unsure, there was verve to his words. There was the occasional glance towards the unconscious bedridden Thurl, but for long moments Garrett didn’t tear his eyes away.

Until Ceryl had finished, and the half-elf lifted a gauntleted hand to point at the younger man. “There’s your faith, kid.” He closed his mouth and his brow creased as she looked at Ceryl a little longer. He gave himself no credit at all for the man sitting across from him, but something close to relief passed over Garrett’s face. “You’re gonna laugh and call me preachy but if you’ve got it, it’s always been there.”

He settled his hand back in his lap and smiled. “Hey, can you do me a favour?”

The longer Garrett stared at him, the more it occurred to Ceryl that no, it didn't feel strange to suddenly have the man's attention. It was a dose of reality to think he'd only known this man for a few days -- a few hours, really in their snatches of conversations between missions. Like his parents stumbling onto him on the bank, Ceryl really had no reason even to give a shit about the father that sat across from him now, staring at him. It would have been easy to ignore him, or resent him. But this, making peace -- he loved his parents, but this felt better than he'd ever admit aloud.

So Ceryl smiled right back, and gave a quiet laugh, and looked far less tense than he had when he'd first slumped into the barracks. "It hasn't always been there, I promise. But-- sure, anything. Ask away."

Garrett glanced around at the otherwise empty room, even on the other side of the sheet, a paltry excuse for privacy, the infirmary had quieted down in the very late hour. “Alright, small lie, two favours.”

The half-elf leant a little closer, because even if it was quiet, there were more reasons for a hushed tone than just personal conversation. “The next time you see Bjorn, tell him he sent exactly right person for this.” He narrowed his eyes. “Tell him he’s a shit because he sent someone who would remember exactly what I would forget about.” The people. The small picture. A human agenda, if all the races of the sword coast would pardon the phrase.

Garrett leant back to settle fully into his seat, and reached for the arrows again, balancing them across his lap. “Second thing, go the hell to bed, kid.” He smiled, the irony of sending Ceryl to his room not lost on him. “Get some sleep, you look like shit. We all do.”

Ceryl looked somewhat confused at the sudden need for secrecy, given the nature of the conversation they'd already been having at full volume. Even so, he leaned in close as Garrett did, his eyebrows creasing together -- and his smile turned into a full grin at what the other man said.

"Why am I not surprised you two know each other?" he asked, shaking his head. A whole conversation about shirking fate, and now this. Small world. "I won't tell him he's a shit, I love that man -- but I'll tell him the rest. I swear it."

It was the second request that the genasi hesitated on, making no move to stand and leave, even though he was weary to his core and knew very well that Garrett was right about him looking a mess. Not for the irony, which wasn't lost on him either -- but because, for all his fatigue, his mind was still filled with all the things he had meant to ask before the two of them had gotten carried away. It was a reminder that time was not on their side.

"As for the other one," he continued, still smiling but looking at Garrett somewhat more seriously. "I will, if you'll do me a favor too."

Garrett narrowed his eyes in a wholly feigned look of skepticism aimed at Ceryl. He drummed his fingers on his bow, and after a long moment of insincere hesitation, he smiled. He couldn’t wll deny Ceryl a request after the genasi had just agreed to two. And, also, the entire marching into a valley of death on his request.

“Alright, you’ve got me. Go ahead and ask.”

Not unaccustomed to putting on an act, Ceryl followed suit and mimicked Garrett by tipping up his chin and giving the man an overly exaggerated insistent look, with an unspoken 'you'd better do it' air to it. It broke the instant Garrett did, and he laughed quietly -- but then sat up straight again to look at his father in earnest.

"I don't know what's going to happen from here on," he said, his voice gone low. "Make sure this isn't the last conversation we have. And I'll do the same."

Though his smile was still there, a little of the mirth in Garrett’s eyes dulled at the words. “I can’t promise that one, and neither can you. But I’ll give it a go.” He was quiet a moment, before smirking. “Wait. we’ll both be around in the morning getting ordered around by Ushien. So I can promise that one. Now go on, go the fuck to sleep, Ceryl.” He lifted a gauntlet and beckoned the genasi out.

In truth, Ceryl had already known what the answer would be, even before he spoke the request -- Garrett hadn't filled his head with empty promises or platitudes through their conversation, and the genasi doubted he would have started just for that. But Ceryl still managed a laugh at the dig upon Ushien, and put on another act of bowing his head and looking scolded, like a child being sent to bed without dinner.

"Yes, father~" he crooned dryly, but when he finally went to stand, it all vanished -- he'd stopped paying attention to how exhausted he was until he had to haul his tired carcass upright again. With a terrible grimace, Ceryl swore colorfully under his breath. "Fuck me, I lied too, you can do me another favor and help me off this stupid stool."

With some effort though, he got to his feet and shuffled to leave, though he paused next to Garrett to reach out and clasp the man's armored shoulder. He said nothing else, and after a moment, he went on his way -- though he had one more stop to make before he could finally sleep.

[sbeep]

Feathergale Knights!

[nerdyhexel]

Day 6 • Villains

Was having so much fun drawing D&D related stuff that I decided to sketch up some of the more memorable villains that my party has encountered in my edited Princes of the Apocalypse campaign.

Cinder - Fire Genasi Bandit Captain Grol - Goliath Bandit Captain (worked with Cinder) Mougra - Goblin Highwayman  Thurl Merosska - Aarakocra, Lord Commander of the Feathergale Society

[elfgirl931]

D&D Recap

I always seem to go away from our sessions thinking, “wow, that was so intense! Nothing could top that!” And yet, the next session almost always proves me wrong. This one especially.

Last time, we’d escaped from this tower called the Feathergale Spire, which we thought was inhabited by nice but weird noblemen who liked to fly around on griffons and big vultures and hunt stuff. They wanted us to go upstairs for this sketchy ceremony and we found out through the power of Friends that they were actually the Cult of the Howling Hatred. Fantastic. My cleric was almost levitated off a bridge into a 400 ft deep chasm, but she cast Dispel Magic on the floating guy/cult leader and made him fall instead. This comes into play later.

We’d decided to use Featherfall to go down and investigate the chasm because there were weird things going on down there. Long story short, we ended up in an ancient, ruined dwarven city called Tyarbeselmer (sp?). There were lots of creepy bird people that imitate voices, a dude that makes flutes out of people’s bones, and lots of cultists :)

Our sorcerer and bard pretended to be new recruits to the cult while the rest of the party stealthed behind. This resulted in the monk and warrior wanted to knock out some people chained to pillars to steal their cultist robes! I disagreed strongly and tried to talk to the prisoners, but they were apparently members of the cult starving themselves for some sort of test? It was hard to communicate with them. Which resulted in the monk and warrior getting their way after all.

We put on the robes and pretended the monk was our prisoner, “like Chewie, we just fake tied his hands,” following our bard and sorcerer through use of communication bracelets

We passed by a huge blue guy sadly fixing the marble in a chamber. He said he was a genie named Atair and he had been there for thousands of years trying to fix the disrepair of the city at the command of the last dwarven king. We found out that the cult leader had the horn that could command him behind her throne. We promised to help him if we could  but he warned us that the queen could blow the horn and command him to come to her aid and he’d have no choice even though he didn’t want to.

He also told us that the cult was attempting to summon Yan C Bin (an evil demigod, apparently?) from the elemental plane of air. We said nah.

So the sorcerer is in there talking to the queen, trying to buy us time (still pretending to be a recruit) and the queen demands her staff (it’s a really cool lightning/thunder staff). She said no way and when the queen stood up and started getting ticked, the sorcerer just goes “screw you, no one takes my staff,” and blasts her with the full power of the staff (lightning and thunder together)

At this point I’m biting my hand to keep from screaming

The queen had tons of henchmen in there (see last night’s photo, yikes). Opens up the round with Chain Lightning and we’re down so. much. HP.

The monk charges past everyone and goes behind the throne, grabs the horn and blows it... but nothing happened. We were getting our butts handed to us, I think the bard went down twice. I couldn’t buff anyone because I planned poorly and was trying to keep everyone healed

But then! The genie did show up! He told the monk to issue him one command, so he goes, “kill everyone in this building who is not us.” Our DM got the most evil look on his face and everyone at the table is screaming

I found out that I’d been rolling wrong on my mace attacks, so now my cleric is much more effective at plain attacks. I rolled a natural 20 on a hit, suddenly the diadem she’s wearing (that we found a few sessions back) glowed with a radiant blue fire that enveloped her head, and the mace suddenly glowed with blue fire too! That unlocked me being able to do an extra d4 radiant damage on mace attacks once a day, which is pretty neato.

We actually took down the queen much more easily than we thought, but just when we thought we’d be ok, the genie was like, yeah, there’s more coming, including Caz

We’re like who tf is Caz and he’s like, oh, just a Yuntai abomination. He’s probably going to kill all of us but since you have commanded me to fight I must :)  So we go outside and there’s this humongous effing snake and a whole bunch of scary bird people and we were already pretty low on HP and spells BUT HEY WE’RE DOING THIS

Just when we thought it couldn’t get worse, the punk that tried to throw me off a bridge earlier showed up and he was super mad that I took away his flight spell and almost killed him, so guess who he’s after???

I truly thought we were dead. The genie summoned a tornado picking people up and the sorcerer was like “CAN I MAKE IT INTO A FIRE TORNADO??” Cue sad faces when the DM said no. 

Best moment was the monk kicking the crap out of the snake dude so bad that he fell into a bottomless wind pit of some sort (cue my husband singing “I fell in the pit” by Andy Dwyer)

I got 2 hdywtdt in a row, just on mace attack and spiritual weapon, but it was pretty cool nonetheless. I don’t get too many of those, & I know getting them isn’t the point of D&D, but it just makes me feel cool.

We miraculously survived, all totally tapped out of spells & the genie’s like, hey do you guys want to come back to my place? Being shady AF and not telling us where or whether we’d be safe there. Everyone wanted to go but my cleric, obvi. I’m the team mom/wet blanket :/

So he he leaves and comes back like 20 minutes later to give us some stuff and was like “hey btw how long was I gone?” And I was like “how long do you think you were gone?” and he just goes :)))) oh it’s different for mortals and I was like SEE? SEE WHY WE DIDN’T GO WITH HIM?

We’re hiding out in an abandoned house in the city, barricaded the doors with old furniture, but the DM said just before we closed, “make sure you come next time with your same HP and spells checked off, don’t assume you’re getting a long rest rn” and we’re all ???????????????????