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.