Your adventure began a few nights ago.  Short on funds, you all happened to find yourselves in the employ of a local merchant.  Your task is simple transport duty: moving a wagon load of goods from Neverwinter south to Waterdeep.  Up to this point, the job has been uneventful.

Tonight, the woods are quiet and the air grows chill.  Your fire sputters as a low mist gathers around the edges of your camp, growing closer as the night wears on.  You don't sense any imminent danger, but you do feel a bit unsettled.


This message was last edited by the GM at 16:54, Mon 22 Feb 2021.

In reply to The Narrator (msg # 1):

Digger adds a chunk or two to the fire, stirring it up a bit then eyes the flames for color changes and sniffs the air, eyeing the fog coming in.

OOC:
15:29, Today: Digger rolled 13 using 1d20+4.  Perception: noxious/flammable gas check.

Edit: It occurs to me this might be a survival roll instead, but the numbers would be the same. Still, I wouldn't turn down another chance to roll higher. :-)

This message was last edited by the player at 00:03, Mon 22 Feb 2021.

You notice nothing inherently dangerous about the mist.

OOC: I don't think a re-roll would affect the result much.

Sarelor sits on a log playing with one of his daggers by flipping it into the air with one hand and catching it by the hilt with the other. His attempts to keep the dagger from the dirt are mostly successful, though an occasional drop occurs. His response to these misses is usually one word addressed to no one in particular followed by picking up the dagger and cleaning the blade.

He looks around at the sudden mist, and begins to wonder if the trip was a good idea, after all. "Drat! Did we draw lots to see who had what watch? If we have, I've forgotten which one was mine," he says as he checks on the animals pulling the wagon.

OOC: 18:20, Today: Sarelor rolled 25 using 1d20+5.  DEX roll to flip dagger around
 18:21, Today: Sarelor rolled 4 using 1d20+2.  Animal Handling to keep pack animals from bolting.
18:21, Today: Sarelor rolled 23 using 1d20+4.  Nature questioning whether the mist is natural.

Moral stumbled back from the fire, tripping over his seat before awkwardly rolling back to his feet. Pointing at the fire he addressed everyone but kept his eyes on the flames, "A man's face glares at you from within the flames of your own campfire, and your concerned about watch order!?"

18:32, Today: Morek rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Perception

The horse remains calm and doesn't actually look bothered at all.

Sarelor is confident that the mist is not natural.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:05, Mon 22 Feb 2021.

Digger eyes Morek and then the faceless fire dubiously. "Easy way to fix it, if so." He applies his waterskin's contents to the fire, liberally, extinguishing it, "That should do it. No flames, no face, yes?"

He shrugs, "If you're worried about it, still, you should probably take the first watch. Wake me if anything happens or when you're ready for sleep."

Digger will leave his leather on as he stretches out on his bedroll, rock hammer handy.

Sarelor walks back, smooths out the pit and begins rebuilding the fire. He calmly says, "there was really no call for that." Jerking a thumb at Morek, he goes on "I'm pretty sure the flames were glaring at him."

"We're going to need this fire. Weather's not right for that mist."

The complete lack of concern from the others had Morek wandering if perhaps it was nothing more than an illusion that one of them had been playing with. They didn't really act like it was, but such disregard made him unsure whether he should dismiss it as nothing or worry even more. Either way, it left him feeling unsettled.

Fog, on the other hand, was completely naturally. It happened all the time. Why they would care about that was beyond him. In war, fog often saved your life. Morek welcomed the fog. The face in the fire thought? Now that was something worth taking note of.

The dwarf returned to his seat, a worried crease to his forehead. "Aye, I'll take the first watch."

Kyra, as always since joining the caravan, sat a little away from the others on tbe other side of the fire, staring into the flame. The flicker was hypnotic.

...until the eyes stared back.

She snapped out of her contemplation to catch the tail end of the conversation, barely noticing the mist. She grasped tbe staff at her side, never far as she looked around perplexed. "I'll take first watch with you... something about this is unsettling."

She looked around, noting but agreeing with Sarelor.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:45, Mon 22 Feb 2021.

Sarelor works at it till there's a good fire going, then stretches out with his head on his backpack. Addressing the watchers just before he closes his eyes, he says, "um... if that mist starts to ignore the fire and move in close, wake me whether or not it's time for the next watch."

You bed down for the evening with Kyra and Morek on the first watch, sitting and staring intently at the fire.  The fog slowly thickens...but the flames call.

Before anyone realizes it, it's morning.

The mist hangs thick in the air, turning the trees around you into gray ghosts.  Then you notice these aren’t the same trees that surrounded you the night before.  The horse and wagon are missing.  Your supplies are missing.  Everything is missing.  Bedrolls have disappeared out from under you and weapons have disappeared from your hands; armor is gone from your body.  All that remains are your simple clothes, the mist, and the forest.

Morek was quite simply shocked. The world was full of magic, and strange things happened, but whatever this was...well, he had no idea what any of this was. To be transported to a strange location with the others, all of them completely unawares, that was odd enough. But to have all of their possessions gone as well? That seemed like more than simple translocation.

Morek started to catch on to the likelihood that this was nothing more than a dream. He looked into the fire and called upon the power of the Morninglord to send righteous flames into the embers (<orange>cast Sacred Flame on the fire</orange). Whether or not it worked, his next step was to try forcing his will into the dream, to make his equipment reappear.

Morek turns towards the campfire, but it is also gone.

Sarelor leaps to his feet, staring around in wonder. After blinking a few times, he throws his arms up in the air and jumps. After several attempts, he grumbles, "worthless dream, I can't even fly, here."
Finally, he looks around and notes his companions. "Oh," he says, "not a dream, then. Am I the only one who's never experienced this, before?"

Morek shook his head in answer to the question, and he sought Lathander's guidance before getting a better look at their surroundings.

cast Guidance, mostly checking to see if spells still work. Perception to see what is here, beyond the immediately obvious.

Perception: 8
12:53, Today: Morek rolled 3 using 1d4.  Guidance.
12:53, Today: Morek rolled 5 using 1d20+3.  Perception.

The spell is cast successfully and without any issue.

Morek looks into the thick fog, but can't see more than a few feet through it. 

Digger looks around a but desperately, then his eyes narrow. His face looks...unpleasant, rather than it's usual bland, "Someone took Betsy. That was a mistake. First I get her back, then I...discuss with the person that took her why he shouldn't have done that."

The half elf stared the fire, the flicker hypnotic. Her gaze drawn deep into the flame. When she thought her mind would be lost in it, a familiar female voice pierced her mind. awaken.

She blinked, realising that they were somewhere else. She reached for her staff, only to realise it too was gone.

She stood up, looking around with more irritation than panic. "I don't think someone took Betsy....I think they took us." she looked around at tbe ghostly area, somehow comforted that her mistress could still reach her here.

She looked at the other three."we need to find shelter and weapons...now." It was probably the most they'd heard Kyra speak, let alone so decisively.

Digger shrugs, "Weapons are overrated. You can break a skull with whatever is handy. What we need are tools. A knife, at the least."

"Perhaps what we need is to know where we are."
Sarelor starts looking for a tall tree to climb.

Digger looks around, "North is....bugger, can't tell in this overcast. That's a pity" He pulls his shirt off and uses it as a bag to start collection throwable stones. He'll also grab the first branch usable as a club he comes across.

OOC:
14:12, Today: Digger rolled 6 using 1d20+4.  Find North.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:54, Mon 22 Feb 2021.

OOC: Sarelor, feel free to roll an athletics check whenever you want to climb.

Morek joins in Digger's quest for a club-appropriate branch. "If we struggle to find food and water today, I'll pray for help with those things tomorrow. Today, we'll have to make due with what we can get our hands on."

Digger nods, "That's why I am collecting a bag of stones. Keep an eye out for rabbits or squirrels. Or anything else you think would look good roasted on a stick."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:02, Tue 23 Feb 2021.

Sarelor attempts to climb a tree to get a better view, but doesn't seem to make it high enough.

OOC:
19:44, Today: Sarelor rolled 1 using 1d20.  athletics, climb tree.
yep, that would be a critical failure

As the group begins to - literally - gather sticks and stones, Sarelor beings to climb a nearby tree.  He gets off to a good start and makes it about 10' off the ground before a branch cracks and breaks under his foot.   With a rather ungraceful flail, he descends to the ground and lands square on his back with a deep *thud*.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:19, Tue 23 Feb 2021.

Digger picks up the branch and gives it a trial swing or two, then looks down at Sarelor, "Not bad, but try for some already on the ground." He hands down to Sarelor his newly foraged club.

Sarelor sits up, says "ouch", catches his breath, and then tries to climb the tree, again.
"We ought to be able to spot the wagon, anyway," he explains.


OOC: if the dice kill me then I will die by the dice
22:41, Today: Sarelor rolled 3 using 1d20.  athletics, climb tree.

Digger backs up from the tree before another club comes down and passes the current one to Morek, "Here. He'll be coming down with another one soon, I expect."

Morek took the branch and worked a couple of tiny off-shoots to make it a nice, bare branch for clubbing. "Aye, that'll do nicely." He rested the club against his shoulder at the base of his neck and took a couple of steps back as he watched Sarelor take another shot at climbing the tree. "I can give you a quick blessing on your next trip back to the ground. It might help you with your climbing." Morek turned to Digger and whispered.

Where the others look for clubs, Kyra chooses to find something longer more akin to a staff. He watched the man climb the tree and unceremoniously fall down again. She looked away trying to hide a smile as she looked around.

But her looking around only yielded the gravity of the suituation. She looked in the mist with a sigh. "We need to move....find a light, a town, even a road or path. We won't find anything staying here."

Sarelor tries to find a way up into the tree again, but with the branch he just knocked down gone, he's unable to get any higher than that point.

He doesn't have a great vantage point, but he sees no breaks in the mist around or above the group.

In reply to Kyra (msg # 32):

Digger looks at Kyra and shrugs, "Well, if we look we might find breakfast. And searching for that may well find paths or roads. Or did you want to pick a direction at random and just start walking and hoping, without any food or water?"

Sarelor descends from his climb, and says, "don't be alarmed, but I'm pretty sure we're dead. This is nothing like the afterlife I was promised. Anyone here have an afterlife involving an endless mist-filled forest with no discernible change in any direction?"

Morek looked over at Sarelor and hit him in the arm with the branch-club, just hard enough to sting a bit. "Did you feel that? I don't think dead people feel pain."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:46, Tue 23 Feb 2021.

Digger shakes his head, "People, we're alive, and we haven't eaten or drank anything in about 12 hours. We can't even tell which way is north. Travel isn't the priority right now: Basic survival. Food and water, maybe a fire. If we deal with the basic and immediate issues, we may well learn a bit about the area.  A search for a stream may well find a path. Mind you, it will likely be a game path with game too large for thrown rocks, but game paths tend to lead to water. And hunters use them, so we may find other people, as well. Plus we'll get a much needed drink.

"All from looking for water. So...let's get looking for water, shall we?"

"Ouch. Ok, yes, your poke with the tree branch hurt. But, perhaps you could tell us which dead person clued you in on their lack of feeling."

Sarelor isn't convinced by Morek's logic, but doesn't need to be. This is clear as Sarelor continues, "whether we're dead or not, we need to find food and water. Let's build a little compass thing from rocks and sticks to indicate the four cardinal directions, and then spend a half hour traveling in each and then returning here. By the time we've done all four directions, we should have seen some difference in terrain that allows us to find water. For food, well, SOMETHING has to live in the forest."

With a consensus being formed, the group heads into the mist.  You aren't able to make a compass, but Digger is confident (using dead reckoning) that he can move the group in a straight direction through the forest, with the intention of following Sarelor's plan.

The woods are still, and moving through this mist gives an almost surreal feeling.  The group travels uneventfully for half an hour and takes the planned 90 degree right turn.  After about fifteen minutes in this direction, you see a break in the trees.  Approaching cautiously, you discover a lonely road.  The mist is marginally thinner in this area.

The group can see that there are not-too-old wagon tracks in the road; Digger and Morek can agree on the direction in which they go.

It's mid-morning.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:46, Tue 23 Feb 2021.

Morek replied to the question, "I said 'I don't think dead people feel pain.' I never said anything about having knowledge, it was just a theory. You've either confirmed my theory, or disproven yours. Mission accomplished, I'd say."

--

Upon setting out and discovering the road, Morek found some small relief. The whole situation was still incredibly weird, not to mention concerning, but the road at least gave them some direction. Some hope of answers. "Tracks go that way," he said pointing, "That's our best bet for finding someone to talk to."

Digger looks to where the tracks came from, "But the tracks come from that way. It could take a wagon all day to reach it's destination, but it left somewhere only a couple hours ago. Presumably after a meal. Certainly a source of water is that way."

Sarelor looks back and forth from Morek and Digger, then says "look, I know we've all seen some things, so we can be pretty sure that whether we're dead or alive, someone magicked us to this place. From the incidents with the campfire and the mist, I would suspect that someone to be malevolent, mostly because they could communicate with us and didn't ask our opinion. Assuming they brought us to themselves, I would say we should seek the source of the wagon. It's likely to be SOME sort of settlement, and what sort it is could tell us a LOT about how to handle this."

"So, if we're discussing it I have two suggestions. We should either go towards the wagon's source, or in the direction away from anyone that tries to leave without getting a consensus, because that would be rude."

"Fair enough. Heading the direction they came from makes sense."

The half elf shook her head at the logic of the men. "Good reasoning....but tell me this. What if their true destination lies mere hours ahead of them and the way they came has nothing but road. I say we follow the caravan. At least we know something is ahead of us wether a town or the caravan...and given they often stop at night, we may catch up. They will have food, water and answers for us. If they ask payment,  we follow them as guards and they pay us in food and water. who knows....they may have a blade or two."

Digger shrugs, "They may or may not be close ahead But I'm hungry and thirsty now, and they would have had access to water this morning. So we KNOW there should be water the way they came. We don't know anything at all about the direction they are going. I count 3 for the sure thing and one for thirst and starvation and hoping luck will avoid both better than logic. Shall we proceed, or talk until we shrivel up and die from thirst?"

Kyra looked at Digger and his comments with a dark look. "Mark my words human....speak to me like that again and we will have words. Don't talk down to me like a fool....I was pointing out an alternative. Your snide comments aside, I have no problem going with the majority, but I will not be made to look like a fool"

With that, she pushed past the others and started walking towards where the caravan came from.

<OOC: ooohhh....you've upset the only female in tbe group, who was dark and brooding before. He'll hate no fury....


Lol>

Digger grins at Kyra's back, winks at Sarelor and Morek, and follows Kyra towards the wagon's last overnight, looking for rabbit or squirrel along the way with a small rock from his shirt/sack in hand.

OOC: Seems we reached a consensus!

The cleric, the miner, and the rogue look at each other and shrug before turning to follow the feisty warlock.  Kyra leads the way and the group proceeds warily down the road.  Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mist.

As you continue to trudge down the lonely, dirt road, you come across a fork in your path.  One path continues on into the distance; the other is short and leads to a cul de sac with a few sorrowful buildings rising out of the mist.  Faintly, you hear the frightened cries of a child.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 01:08, Thu 25 Feb 2021.

Walking ahead of tbe others, Kyra wished she was both right and wrong...she hoped they wouldn't find anything to prove herself right, but also knew the wisdom in their decision.

....still the human didn't have to be an ass about it.

Before she knew it, she was standing at the intersection, looking both ways when she heard the crying child. Without hesitation or approval of the others, she made for the sound and the buildings.

As Digger turned to face him, Morek smiled. The second he turned away, however, his expression turned to one of "I think you're lucky she didn't stab you". He then followed the others.

As they came upon the black pools, Morek knelt down beside one and ran a finger through it to see what the actual coloring of it was, be it literal black or merely reflection. If it was black, he would smell it first and then wipe it off in the dirt. If it seemed to be simple water, he'd wipe it off on his pants before catching up to the others.

The sound of a crying child drew Morek's attention as well. They were ill equipped for facing a dire threat, but if a child was in need of rescue or aid, then Morek too would provide it.

Morek dips his finger into the puddle and discovers it is just water.

Digger dumps his hunting stones and puts his shirt back on to free up his hand. He follows the herd.

Sarelor looks at the cul de sac, and sighs, "ok, that makes me feel a little better... wait, no it doesn't. I almost asked why the dead would have need of buildings, but I don't feel like being out of doors on a cold night, so if I'm dead I would have need of buildings."

"This is some horrible curse, forcing us to question our own existence. We must have truly angered whomever bestowed this dwoemer upon us. Cursed with both physical misery and existential confusion, what will become of us."

He rubs his ribs as he trudges on to the enclave they've found. "Such a cursed magical dimension that even the trees are unclimbable," he grumbles.

Kyra sighed audibility at Sarelor, shaking her head. "Your not dead and this isn't tbe afterlife. Would you feel hungry, tired or thirsty if your dead....no. Would you feel pain...no. This is no cursed magical realm. It's a place, nothing more."

She walked on, mumbling. "why do.men overreact so much" she asked herself.

She made for the homes and the crying.

The offshoot is a short gravel road which leads to a small hamlet containing a few houses which are dark as tombstones.  A tall Victorian-style home stands between two squat, ramshackle buildings.

The loud whimpering draws your eye toward a pair of children standing in front of the middle house, a boy and a girl.  The boy's cries attracted your attention, and what appears to be his older sister is attempting to console him.


This message was last edited by the GM at 04:11, Thu 25 Feb 2021.

Digger looks thoughtful, "You might. It kind of depends on where you wind up, doesn't it?"

He moves up to the children, "What's the problem, kids?"

Kyra shakes her head at the human. "Fool" she muttered under her breath.

As they approached the house and the kids. As Digger casually addresses the children, she shoots him a dark look, and walks up slowly, crouching to their level. "Hi....my name is Kyra. What has your brother so sad?"

Sarelor quietly scoffs. "It's amazing how many people I meet that know what it feels like to be dead."

Rather than argue, he joins the others as they approach the odd house. Not wanting to interfere with those asking after the crying child, he stands off and looks around in hopes of spotting someone in one of the other houses.

After shushing the boy, the girl turns to the group and says, “There’s a monster in our house!” She then points to a tall brick row house that has seen better days. Its windows are dark. It has a gated portico on the ground floor, and the rusty gate is slightly ajar. The houses on either side are abandoned, their windows and doors boarded up.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:49, Thu 25 Feb 2021.

"Where're your parents? And what kind of monster?"

The children look young, both below ten.  The boy clutches a stuffed doll close to his chest while the girl responds softly.  "Mommy and daddy are in the basement trying to quiet the thing...but the howls are so loud this time!  Poor Thorn couldn't stay inside any longer.

"I've never seen it...we aren't allowed down there."  She looks down and puts an arm around the boy, who has pulled close to her side.

In reply to The Narrator (msg # 61):

Digger nods at the boy then heads around the house until he finds the basement doors, he opens them and heads down "to lend a hand".

Digger steps away from the group as they converse with the children.

He circles around the home, but is unable to find any entrance outside of the stone portico.  On either side of the multi-story building are two smaller buildings; both of them look rotting and decrepit as if under years of neglect.  On the left appears to be a smaller home and the right seems to be an old, ruined stable.

In the back of the house, the surrounding area looks as if wilderness is in full swing of reclaiming past farmland.

Sarelor looks at the decrepit buildings, and the fallow farmland, then smiles and heads to the front door. "Hello the house," he loudly exclaims, "is anyone to home?"

Sarelor steps away from Morek, Kyra and the children.

Morek took a knee in front of the kids and pointed at the boy, "The lad is Thorn? And what's your name?" He let the girl answer before he proceeded, "And your parents? What're their names?"

Listening for sounds from the house
12:49, Today: Morek rolled 8 using 1d20+3.  Perception.


"I can perform a ritual that might help us locate the monster, and know more about what we're dealing with. I could skip the ritual and cast it now, but it would remove my ability to save lives later."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:54, Thu 25 Feb 2021.

The boy nods shyly and half-hides behind his sister.  "My name is Rose," she says matter-of-factly, "short for Rosavalda.  Thorn is short for Thornboldt.  Our parents are..." she trails off, thinking hard, "...Gustav and Elisabeth!  And we have a baby brother, Walter.  We're actually supposed to be watching him, but we left him in the nursury."

At the mention of a baby being involved as well, Morek didn't bother waiting to hear the other's opinions on the ritual.

Cast Detect Evil and Good

Sense the presence and location of all aberration, celestial, elemental, fey, fiend, or undead within 30 feet, and any magical consecrated/desecrated ground in 30 ft, for the next 10 minutes

With no external door and a monster in the basement, Digger heads inside the house to find stairs down.

OOC: Would you mind including a reminder for me in your posts?  Either as a short "Active Spells" private line, or OOC.  Just so I don't forget.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:08, Thu 25 Feb 2021.

Morek grabbed the kids and ushered them over to the side, "Stay here while we go in to help. You can step inside and close the door if there is danger out here."

With that, he followed Digger into the home.

Active: Detect Evil (30 ft)

Kyra smiled at the two as they spoke, a warm smile. "Both beautiful names. Rose....why don't you and your brother take shelter some place. We will go check on your parents and brother."

With that, the half elf woman stood, and nodding to Morek, waljed beside him, looking over at Sarelor. "Come on...food can wait, we have people to find."

She follows Digger and Moree into the house but pauses, looking at the stable. "Hold on a second, I want to check something." She walks to the stable and looks on tbe floor, going in for a second, then returns out. "OK....let's go."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:27, Thu 25 Feb 2021.

OOC: I'll wait to see if Sarelor has any further questions for the children before moving on.

If Kyra wants to explore outside a bit more before going on, that's her choice. Digger isn't waiting. Time is still passing inside, after all.

Sarelor stares back at the children for a moment, and then decides they'll be just fine sitting where they were and walks into the house to look for adult people who might have answers.