Ok, the dice have decided your fates. Rob, Styr, Lugh, and Neginea are on deck. We'll set up a room on the discord and get you all in. Thanks all for wanting to be part of this. Those that the dice viewed unfavorably upon, if something comes up, you will get first dibs on getting in.
Title: Laughter in the Dark
Game: d&d 5e adventure on the Sword Coast
Player Count: 4 players
Description: Times are hard on the Sword Coast these days, with caravans being assaulted constantly, causing trade and commerce to grind to a crawl. Whispers of the remains of trade wagons unsettle...
The scholar, standing out in the hallway during vthe inspection, apparently lost in his thoughts on weave theory, jumped as the voice filled his mind, overtaking his other thoughts. Spinning a full circuit, eyes wide, he quickly makes for the once locked room.
Flattening himself against the...
"Odd. I wuh-wouldn't have guessed a wauh-warrior like you t-t-to be squeamish ab-bout b-b-bugs," the scholar notes, looking at Bronria. Offering a shrug, he pulls a small knife from the folds of his overcoat.
"This'll do," he remarks before finding the remains of another firefly in a pouch on...
Frowning, the scholar shoots back, "I d-do not control th-the laws in which we ut-t-tilize the wuh-weave. I just bend it t-to my wuh-will," in a hushed tone.
The scholar spends his time in silent contemplation, his eyes shut to the outside world. Inside his head, however, he walked the halls of his mind palace, fingertips brushing against the walls, over tables and shelves, across the spines of many books. He pauses at a desk in what looks like a...
His head started to throb again from the exertion of manipulating the Weave, a fuzzy haze starting to dull the edges of his vision. Squinting through the pain at the apparition, he watches as Kellen, out of spells useful to the occasion, lunges and misses the spectre. Fear wells up again, this...
Panic wells up inside the scholar, seeing Bronria swoon and falter. He struggles to think, his next move coming slowly to him. Perhaps we can slow this thing down, he muses before concentrating on his next cantrip, rifling through scrolls in his mind to find the right one.
Fear started to take...
At the wall, Abalister be stumbled backward, his attention turning to the spectre and his chest tightening at the ghastly apparition. He tries to speak, but the scholar finds it hard to force air, let alone words, through the lump in his throat. Eyes wide, he watches as the figure attacks...
The scholar looks towards his companion for a long moment before offering a weak smile, retorting, "I am s-sure you willllll fare better n-next time. Mayhaps it is y-your selection of sp-p-pells is an issue. Or ttttttttechnique. Practisss makes perfect..." with a shrug.
As Bronria searches the scorched remains, Abalister sucks in a breath through his teeth. Unused to bending the weave to his will in actual combat, the exertion had started a dull throb in his head. The scholar raises a hand to his head, fingers massaging his brow while his thumb soothes his...
Seeing the crease torn into the torso of the armor by the warrior woman, a different cantrip pushes itself to the scholar's subconscious. Furrowing his brow with concentration, sweat beading on his upper lip with the mental exertion, Abalister uses one hand to trace another rune in the air as he...
The attack seemed to happen so fast as the suit of armor sprung to life with a lunging blow that was deflected by the squire's shield. Surprising himself, muscle memory took over as a book from the depths of his Mind Palace appeared before his mind's eye, his fingers instinctively tracing an...
Abalister watches as the warrior takes point, inspecting the minutia of the room for Mystra knows what. She points out the skeletal figurines and the scholar offers a shrug of his shoulder, commenting, "Seems to be th-the ssssstandard theme..."
The moment of discovery past, the scholar feels his chest tighten once again as his companions discuss their current predicament. We're wolves and shadowy lords were the things of fiction, and fiction was well outside of his wheelhouse. He blows a sigh, his hand resting on one of the many...
A flicker of shock registered on the scholar's face as, before he had a chance to peruse the books on the shelf, Bronria inadvertently triggered a switch revealing a hidden door behind. Her quick thinking ensured their exit once completed and Abalister be turned his attention to the secret room...
Frowning, the scholar is fairly oblivious to the carvings in the wood, transfixed as he is by the family portrait. He stares at it for a long moment before pointing out, "Th-th-that is the ch-ch...kids from outside," asking as much as stating. "Interesting."
Abalister follows the others into the room,his staff held ineffectively before him. His brow furrows as curiousity temporarily pushes the fear aside. "Ghastly," he comments on the decor, eyeing the stuffed animals. He strides across the room and moves to stand before one of the cabinets.
Abalister moves into the room last, brandishing his staff akwardly at arm's length in front of him. Once it becomes apparent that there are no monsters lying in wait to tear his jugular from it's home in his neck, he relaxes somewhat, tamping the staff against the floor.
He surveys the room...