What's new
  • This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

Curse of the Sunstone IC. 5e, closed.

Dice System
D&D 5e

Prospero

The Duke of Milan


This is High Hope. A refuge for the unwanted and oppressed, a sanctuary for those seeking to flee persecution and unjust laws. What had started off as a wicked joke on behalf of the nobility who gave the pilgrims this section of land on the dark continent has become paradise of a sort now. The colony flourishes and empowered by the friendship of the local tribes, it has truly become home for many who live here.

Whoever you may be, whatever you may be? If you come with good intent and seek to turn your life around, High Hope has a place for you. This now marks the fifth year the colony has been here, secure in its place as an air of festivities lingers. The smell of honey baked buns, the crackling of pork skin on the great spits, and so much more fills the air and one can almost believe that you could get fat on the smell alone.

This is a plentiful land and in the last council meeting, it was nigh-unanimous that everyone wanted a holiday to celebrate their landing here.

And so preparations are made, and the village is bustling with activity.

Where are you while this is happening?

You're...

A.) 'The fishermen down at the cove need to catch enough fish for the festival. I'm down there with them!'
B.) 'There's a local boar who's been attacking the colony. It'd be fitting if we killed it and brought it back in triumph! I think we were meeting at the gate for that?'
C.) 'The prize for the best artwork in the colony will be mine! I'm working on my piece for tonight's demonstration!'
D.) 'Though we have much to be thankful for, our home must be guarded still. I'm with volunteers, patrolling the wall.'
E.) 'I think I'll be doing my own thing.'
 

Sherwood

Luna's Concubine
Supporter
Athaclenna is in a festive mood, but knowing that there was probably going to be a group of hunters going out after this wild boar, and that they might get hurt in the process, she would make her way to the gate to join in the hunt. It is important for the Chosen of Corellon to offer their gifts to others freely, doing the most good that they can.
 

Tardy Grade

The Page Turner
Having caught wind of a smelly swine-born causing a ruckus in the locality Cadnik made his way to the gathering throng. Batches of people seemed to have already formed groups and the cloaked hob looked around warily for an opening. Most looked like local hunters and he had no intention of trying to worm his way into an established party. If things went south then he’d be the first one to they’d decide to cut loose...

So Cadnik resorts to moving from group to group of non-locals until they either move away or tell him to do so. Big staring eyes in full use...
 

Theo713

Member
So. Someone was finally going to do something about that boar, were they? So much for making a profit. Even still, Forte instantly thought of a way to turn even this situation to his advantage. He would go with these hunters, and use them as body guards while he found new cultures for his apothecary. It was a win win as far as he was concerned. The red toned Tiefling would also make his way towards where the hunters were gathering, making sure to stay close enough to show that he was going with them while at the same time staying far enough away to hopefully avoid any interactions with these....humans.
 

Steel Accord

One Thousand Club
“The best piece of art huh?” Galtero thought to himself. “It doesn’t say it needs to be physical. Then again mine certainly will be ‘physical.” Galtero was able to pay a local musician (a halfling named Reed) to play his unique, single stringed instrument, under the assurance that Reed would teach no one else the lessons. For Galtero needed music to dance to and he couldn’t play at the same time. (Not yet anyway.)

So Galtero and Reed practiced a new routine through the night, even involving flipping over Reed’s head as the music played. Admittedly not as impressive given Reed’s size but it would still be fun to witness. He dedicated the performance to pantomiming a story of liberation and fighting for freedom.
 

Deathchart98

Wordsmith
Nina's squirming stired Taxion awake. The branch beneath him shook as he stretched awake, leaves falling to the ground. The wind of the day was full of life, the bustling town nearly knocking Taxion off his resting place. He hopped down from the tree and began to make his way toward the docks. He had a big plan coming up for the festival and needed to kill some time until it started. He always was good at catching fish. The smell of the water and the mist of the waves felt great against his sun baked fur. The ancient dock creaked and cried as Taxion made his way to the edge.

His plan was simple:

Obtain some bait. Climb under the dock. Hide from the fish. Bait the water. And skewer the fish. He could use some of his rope to tie them to his waist. Then, phase one will begin.
 

Vaneheart

Friend or Enemy?
D: 'Though we have much to be thankful for, our home must be guarded still. I'm with volunteers, patrolling the wall.'

Korvol Dutaine

In the morning, Korvol gathered with the other volunteers, ready to guard the gates and patrol the wall while the festivities took place. He gathered and donned his weapons and equipment, and made sure it was all in good repair and inspection-ready. High Hope wasn't the half-orc warrior's original homeland, but the environs still reminded him of the wild and untamed lands of his far away home. He thought gruffly Festivals are good and all, but there are still threats out there...waiting for us to let our guard down. Best be vigilant. The food sure does smell good though.

His perspective was perhaps different from the others in he felt that in lands such as these, it was civilization that was the aberration, the trespasser, the oddity, and the outcast, and that such places needed to be protected from forces in a land all-too-willing to excise them.
 

McGlitchy

The Blue Screen of Death
Kothar had spent much of his time browsing the great variety of foods on display in High Hope. Though he could care less about the actual festivities, the great amount of meats would provide him with supplies he would need when he left the colony. Before he could buy anything, however, he felt a familiar shake come from his staff, when he examined the crystallized sap on top, he saw blood pour out of the eye captured within. Sess'innek wanted another sacrifice, Kothar had heard of a hunting group gathered at the gate that would soon leave to catch a boar. He would likely be unable to take the boar for himself, but he was sure he could kill something else on the brief expedition. Knowing that he was better off pleasing Sess'innek than buying food, he quickly met up with the rest of the hunting party.
 

Prospero

The Duke of Milan
D: 'Though we have much to be thankful for, our home must be guarded still. I'm with volunteers, patrolling the wall.'

Korvol Dutaine


In the morning, Korvol gathered with the other volunteers, ready to guard the gates and patrol the wall while the festivities took place. He gathered and donned his weapons and equipment, and made sure it was all in good repair and inspection-ready. High Hope wasn't the half-orc warrior's original homeland, but the environs still reminded him of the wild and untamed lands of his far away home. He thought gruffly Festivals are good and all, but there are still threats out there...waiting for us to let our guard down. Best be vigilant. The food sure does smell good though.

His perspective was perhaps different from the others in he felt that in lands such as these, it was civilization that was the aberration, the trespasser, the oddity, and the outcast, and that such places needed to be protected from forces in a land all-too-willing to excise them.
"Duataine."

Guardsman Angela Moira, daughter of the local parish cleric stood readily at attention as she greeted him. Clad in full plate(one of the colony's rarer treasures), she had to be sweltering in the jungle heat but endured it with her ever-present stoicism. On her shoulder, the emblem of a crossed mistletoe and oak branch gleamed and polished till it shone. Offering a salute, she continued. "I'd like to offer my thanks on behalf of the Town Guard. You're under no obligation to aide us today, but you've still decided to join us." She held her head a little higher, a necessity to look him in the eye(he was a good two feet taller) as she added.

"Also, I was hoping you could inform me if you've seen Hemlock. He hasn't been seen by anyone all morning."

[Perception check for details, History for determining who Hemlock is].

Athaclenna is in a festive mood, but knowing that there was probably going to be a group of hunters going out after this wild boar, and that they might get hurt in the process, she would make her way to the gate to join in the hunt. It is important for the Chosen of Corellon to offer their gifts to others freely, doing the most good that they can.
Having caught wind of a smelly swine-born causing a ruckus in the locality Cadnik made his way to the gathering throng. Batches of people seemed to have already formed groups and the cloaked hob looked around warily for an opening. Most looked like local hunters and he had no intention of trying to worm his way into an established party. If things went south then he’d be the first one to they’d decide to cut loose...

So Cadnik resorts to moving from group to group of non-locals until they either move away or tell him to do so. Big staring eyes in full use...
So. Someone was finally going to do something about that boar, were they? So much for making a profit. Even still, Forte instantly thought of a way to turn even this situation to his advantage. He would go with these hunters, and use them as body guards while he found new cultures for his apothecary. It was a win win as far as he was concerned. The red toned Tiefling would also make his way towards where the hunters were gathering, making sure to stay close enough to show that he was going with them while at the same time staying far enough away to hopefully avoid any interactions with these....humans.
Kothar had spent much of his time browsing the great variety of foods on display in High Hope. Though he could care less about the actual festivities, the great amount of meats would provide him with supplies he would need when he left the colony. Before he could buy anything, however, he felt a familiar shake come from his staff, when he examined the crystallized sap on top, he saw blood pour out of the eye captured within. Sess'innek wanted another sacrifice, Kothar had heard of a hunting group gathered at the gate that would soon leave to catch a boar. He would likely be unable to take the boar for himself, but he was sure he could kill something else on the brief expedition. Knowing that he was better off pleasing Sess'innek than buying food, he quickly met up with the rest of the hunting party.
The group of hunters was surprisingly young, the majority of them young adults or youths. The sole exception was their guide, a crotchety old Dwarf named 'Sin-Spitter Dumas. The reason for such became apparent as he spat out a noxious spray of baccy through the space in his front teeth to the side. His clothing was a hodgepodge mess of rags, dirty and smeared in strange liquids as he walked back and forth among the hunters, squinting through his one good eye. His voice was a gravely thing, as a well-polished and oiled heavy crossbow rested on his back, smeared with boot blacking on the metal bits.

"Soooo.... Y'all looking ter hunt a boar are ye? Wanting to become heroes and impress the men and ladies of this here colony? WRONG!" He suddenly yelled and pushed his face into Cadnik in an impromptu staring contest. Spittle flew as he raged aloud.

"Y'ALL AIN'T HUNTING A BOAR! YER HUNTING THE MEANEST,ORNERY FUCKING CRITTER THIS SIDE OF THE JUNGLE!"He prowled and where he moved, others recoiled briefly as he moved over to Forte as he spoke.

"RED SKIN?! GIT SOME FINE MUD ON YOU BOI! THE FUCKING BEAST GETS ANGRY AT THE SIGHT OF IT!"

He marched to Athaclenna, looking her over as he spat baccy to the side and spoke gruffly. "Miss. Gonna need yer help to keep these folks healed, in case the Beast DROPS DOWN FROM THE TREES LIKE A FATASS DRAGON!" He roared, moving onto the others again as he scowled.

His last statement had him facing Kothar now as he blinked, squinted again and looked the lizardfolk over before he nodded in approval. "Lizardfolk! I knew a ranger friend o' mine who had the most ornery over(and under) bite! If you got half his mettle, we got this in...The..." He stared at the staff, looked crestfallen and sighed.

"Or ye could just twiddle them digits and hope it works." He looked at the group, scowled and took a larger bit of his baccy, chewing noisily before he spat and seemed sated. "Right then! The Beast is a demon in pig form! It ambushes travelers on the road. It flies through the fucking trees for people. And the locals have a name for it...They call it-an'I be paraphrasing a bit now... Oh-Fuck-It-Comes-Now.' He seemed a trifle embarrassed as he shook his head and spoke. "Was never good with languages. But keep yer wits about and weapons pointed out and maybe we'll see it impale itself on them. Stranger things have happened! Now lesgo!"

[Survival check to find a trail with advantage, due to Dumas's aid.]

“The best piece of art huh?” Galtero thought to himself. “It doesn’t say it needs to be physical. Then again mine certainly will be ‘physical.” Galtero was able to pay a local musician (a halfling named Reed) to play his unique, single stringed instrument, under the assurance that Reed would teach no one else the lessons. For Galtero needed music to dance to and he couldn’t play at the same time. (Not yet anyway.)

So Galtero and Reed practiced a new routine through the night, even involving flipping over Reed’s head as the music played. Admittedly not as impressive given Reed’s size but it would still be fun to witness. He dedicated the performance to pantomiming a story of liberation and fighting for freedom.
Leia Reed finished her number and clapped politely as she spoke. "Well done! That's definitely gonna be a shoo-in at the contest tonight! Of course, with someone like me helping how could it not?" The halfling was smug, but in a cheerful way, as she brought out a packed lunch and another for Galtero beaming.

"A'course, we're going to be facing off against the Moriss Brothers-I heard they were doing some kind of weird puppet show this time." She frowned and then kicked the ground absently as she muttered. "Stupid wizards. If I used my magic for our act, we'd have this in the bag!"


Nina's squirming stired Taxion awake. The branch beneath him shook as he stretched awake, leaves falling to the ground. The wind of the day was full of life, the bustling town nearly knocking Taxion off his resting place. He hopped down from the tree and began to make his way toward the docks. He had a big plan coming up for the festival and needed to kill some time until it started. He always was good at catching fish. The smell of the water and the mist of the waves felt great against his sun baked fur. The ancient dock creaked and cried as Taxion made his way to the edge.

His plan was simple:

Obtain some bait. Climb under the dock. Hide from the fish. Bait the water. And skewer the fish. He could use some of his rope to tie them to his waist. Then, phase one will begin.
[Survival check to see how many fish are caught].

As time passed and Taxion performed his plan, a fishing boat came in-others with the same idea to fish for the festival would be bringing in their catch. Though as they sailed in, he'd be in perfect position to listen to the conversation above.

"-Bad.Bad...Every fish we've gotten is bad. Look at it! These gills are black as tar! Maybe we should get one of the druids or something to check it out."

"And worry everyone when they should be celebrating? No...Look, we got enough in our stores for this. We'll draw the fish for the festival from it and hold this for later. If somethings spoiling the fishing grounds, it can wait for a day at least. Spread the word in the meantime-no one goes out to the fishing grounds till we get someone to look into this!"
 

Sherwood

Luna's Concubine
Supporter
Athaclenna

"Or ye could just twiddle them digits and hope it works." He looked at the group, scowled and took a larger bit of his baccy, chewing noisily before he spat and seemed sated. "Right then! The Beast is a demon in pig form! It ambushes travelers on the road. It flies through the fucking trees for people. And the locals have a name for it...They call it-an'I be paraphrasing a bit now... Oh-Fuck-It-Comes-Now.' He seemed a trifle embarrassed as he shook his head and spoke. "Was never good with languages. But keep yer wits about and weapons pointed out and maybe we'll see it impale itself on them. Stranger things have happened! Now lesgo!"
At the word from the old dwarf that they were dealing with a demon, the young elf frowns. Truly it was a blessing for all these hunters that I came along. My healing will certainly be needed, and my Sacred Flame will be most certainly be useful. She nods, clutching at her bow. "I will do my best to keep us all alive, but I am only beginning on my path on the worship of Corellon, and still have much to learn. Still, I can heal, and have some talents to bring to bear."
 

Tardy Grade

The Page Turner
The group of hunters was surprisingly young, the majority of them young adults or youths. The sole exception was their guide, a crotchety old Dwarf named 'Sin-Spitter Dumas. The reason for such became apparent as he spat out a noxious spray of baccy through the space in his front teeth to the side. His clothing was a hodgepodge mess of rags, dirty and smeared in strange liquids as he walked back and forth among the hunters, squinting through his one good eye. His voice was a gravely thing, as a well-polished and oiled heavy crossbow rested on his back, smeared with boot blacking on the metal bits.

"Soooo.... Y'all looking ter hunt a boar are ye? Wanting to become heroes and impress the men and ladies of this here colony? WRONG!" He suddenly yelled and pushed his face into Cadnik in an impromptu staring contest. Spittle flew as he raged aloud.
Cadnik mustered all his courage not to recoil from the verbose assault on his being. A fresh coat of saliva coated his face and he did his best not to wipe it off until the dwarf broke eye contact. Proceeded by him dropping to his knees and rubbing the fresh dirt on his face and hoping dwarf spit wasn’t corrosive. Muttering,”No you...” under his breath.

When he did finally feel a bit ‘cleaner’ his ears picked up on the world ‘red’ and he gripped his own cloak. Unsure, he was wondering whether to stow it away or keep it on. It wouldn’t do to be the ‘biggest’ target ... but he didn’t want to rub dirt over it just to dull the color. It was so pretty.

And if he took it off ... warily he eyed the young hunters with bows.

So the cloak would stay on. Boar be damned!

So with a dirt covered face and a clean cloak, Cadnik shuffled towards the front of the group, trying to settle into the rhythm of the wild.

———

Dice roll:

Survival check : 12 + 4 = 16
 

McGlitchy

The Blue Screen of Death
His last statement had him facing Kothar now as he blinked, squinted again and looked the lizardfolk over before he nodded in approval. "Lizardfolk! I knew a ranger friend o' mine who had the most ornery over(and under) bite! If you got half his mettle, we got this in...The..." He stared at the staff, looked crestfallen and sighed.

"Or ye could just twiddle them digits and hope it works." He looked at the group, scowled and took a larger bit of his baccy, chewing noisily before he spat and seemed sated. "Right then! The Beast is a demon in pig form! It ambushes travelers on the road. It flies through the fucking trees for people. And the locals have a name for it...They call it-an'I be paraphrasing a bit now... Oh-Fuck-It-Comes-Now.' He seemed a trifle embarrassed as he shook his head and spoke. "Was never good with languages. But keep yer wits about and weapons pointed out and maybe we'll see it impale itself on them. Stranger things have happened! Now lesgo!"
It was strange to hear that the softskin knew one of his kin, stranger still to imagine one of his own work alongside them. The old dwarf gave his staff a look and seemed to change from his previous demeanor. Kothar believed he saw traces of disappointment in his face, but it was hard to truly determine the nature of the change. The man's words seem to bring with them some sense of emotion as well, again Kothar could not find what was being expressed, not mention just how little sense the statement made. He made sure to keep his eye on the man, unsure of what he truly thought of Kothar. After the man had finished speaking they began their search for the demon boar, Kothar quickly got to work looking for signs of the beast.


Survival Check
17 + 4 = 21
 

Steel Accord

One Thousand Club
Leia Reed finished her number and clapped politely as she spoke. "Well done! That's definitely gonna be a shoo-in at the contest tonight! Of course, with someone like me helping how could it not?" The halfling was smug, but in a cheerful way, as she brought out a packed lunch and another for Galtero beaming.

"A'course, we're going to be facing off against the Moriss Brothers-I heard they were doing some kind of weird puppet show this time." She frowned and then kicked the ground absently as she muttered. "Stupid wizards. If I used my magic for our act, we'd have this in the bag!"
Galtero took his lunch with a huff, not from rudeness, but from literally huffing. He was exhausted after the routine was practiced for fifth time that day. Repetition to mastery though.

“Thanks,” he said to his performing partner. “If you really wanted to be using your magic to compete, you would. Magic is no different than a sword, without the will to use it, it’s lame. Will is where all action springs. And my will to compete will carry us through.” He shrugged. “Whether we win or not is irrelevant.”
 

Theo713

Member
"Y'ALL AIN'T HUNTING A BOAR! YER HUNTING THE MEANEST,ORNERY FUCKING CRITTER THIS SIDE OF THE JUNGLE!"He prowled and where he moved, others recoiled briefly as he moved over to Forte as he spoke.

"RED SKIN?! GIT SOME FINE MUD ON YOU BOI! THE FUCKING BEAST GETS ANGRY AT THE SIGHT OF IT!"
Forte stood there in silence as the small Dwarf insulted him, using Thaumaturgy to collect the spit spewed from the one eyed cretin and fling the glob to the ground with a flick of his fingers. "Ooh. I do hope so." he would muse aloud once the Dwarf had walked off, sparing a glance in the direction of the small hooded figure who was busy dirtying their face. No doubt a nice layer of dirt was preferable to being covered in Dwarf saliva. He sympathized with the hooded figure completely. He thought about speaking up, saying that he too would be able to heal those that were actually going to be fighting as well, but thought better of it. No need to put himself out in the open like that. Not yet. So he would merely smile a faint smile and nod, going with the group while keeping an eye out for plants to cultivate and add to his apothecary.

Survival Check
13 + 2 = 15
 

Vaneheart

Friend or Enemy?
Korvol Dutaine
(Half-orc fighter, former marauder bandit, turned bounty-hunter)

The half-orc warrior crisply returned the guardswoman's salute and stated "I am happy to help. The people of High Hope should be protected and feel safe while they celebrate. It's a worthy cause. I am prepared to stand any post you would have me at and preform any duties." He reflected that it had been a while since he had stood formal watch duty, the last time being while he served the petty bandit lord who called himself The Horned King, far away to the north...in a previous life.

He had prepared appropriately though, and felt festival-ready. His sturdy black leather boots were well-polished to a shine, his equipment and clothing were well-cleaned and oiled, and his mail armor had been scrubbed until it gleamed. He had touched up the paint on his steel-rimmed heavy wooden heater shield, fixing the scratches, chips, and dents, as well as adding a dark green stripe to the plain grey background. He wore a simple checkered brown and olive green sleeveless surcoat over his armor, and his headgear was a simple circular-brimmed steel kettle-helm worn over a mail coif. He normally preferred heavier headgear, even great helms, but in this climate, with the sun, harsh heat, rain, and sometimes obscured visibility, the kettle helm was far more practical, and kept the sun and the weather out of his eyes, while not obscuring visibility. He had even spent two silver pieces to bathe before arriving. For this particular duty, he had rolled up his thick black bear pelt cloak and put it away in his pack, feeling it was a bit too outlandish for the occasion.

He observed the guard, and thought She's very pretty and well-mannered. Bright red hair, blue eyes. Beautiful even. That's unusual for a soldier in these parts. I wonder why she's here? Probably could have done just about anything else had she wanted.

He tried to recall if he had seen Hemlock or who he was.
 
Last edited:

Users Who Are Viewing This Thread (Users: 0, Guests: 1)

Top