In the ruins of a long forgotten city; in the middle of a long forgotten, and frankly, undesired desert; at the intersection of three warring countries; a deeply-cowled figure sits cross-legged on a raised dais.

The wind howls as whips of sand lash the figure... who remains still, the only indication they are not one of the marble statues in the area is the sharpness of detail and the movement of fabric.

For a long time, nothing happens.  Then for an even longer time... nothing continues to happen.  After months, no, years, no; centuries... finally something happens.  Six figures, approach the dais, in pairs from three directions.

They walk in silence, the only sounds are crunching footfalls, howling wind and swishing sand.  After an interminable time the figures reach the dais in perfect synchronicity.

They array themselves around the dais, and wait in silence.  For a beat it looks as if they came here for nothing, then suddenly, a wall of sand flies away from the figure, and deafening silence imposes itself.  The interlopers do not react such theatrics and wait in stillness rivaling that of the shrouded figure.

In a whisper like the tearing of paper, but commanding in the sudden silence...

Have you all completed your tasks?  Have you created and harnessed your external locii?  Are you ready to end this?

The silence that implies their contempt at those questions is broken by a small rotuned, figure as a nasal voice cuts the silence like a chainsaw.

...Well, I don't believe that any of us has fully harnessed the power of the external locus...

they laugh nervously for a second and continue oblivious to the contempt rolling off of the others for the intrusion upon this moment.

...I estimate that we have only harnessed a small percentage of what a locus is capable of; it will take years, maybe centuries to fully...

The voice trails off as they realize their social transgression.

...Sorry.

Then without further adieu, let us proceed.

With that the figures each adopt a unique stance, voices raise in chant, song and prayer, components are removed from pouches, blood is spilled, metal shards are ignited into bright white light and an unmistakable aura of power emerges around each of the 6 figures.  The auras around the 6 newcomers begin to intermingle, and swirl in tie-dye patterns through the air... except when they come into contact with the first's aura, which remains still, clear, and impassable.

Colors fill the bubble and sand begins to raise up off of the ground to float inches above the surface.  When seen from the outside the bubble distends, ruptures, and the colors pour forth like a fog across the ground.  The wind suddenly changes shapes as all of the sand that has been picked up raises high into the air, then crashes down onto the bubble rushes outwards, then stillness, the power of the storm being spent.

The fog slowly lifts over a very different landscape.  A well that had long since run dry now has plentiful water, long destroyed cobblestone streets are now in perfect repair, ruined buildings, homes, and great public works of art, restored to their previous splendor.  The group of seven have birthed an oasis from the desert.

Welcome, to Old Theradane... restored.

A sharp sound followed by another breaks the reverence for the moment as the small rotund figure begins a slow clap that is not reciprocated by the others.

Oh... right.  Sorry.

Shoving their hands into their pockets they join the rest of the group in awkward reverence for their achievement.

So... Now what?

Now, is the time to build, and once we are ready, we will attract a new population.  This city-state is founded on our desire to be free from the scourge of war.  We will not take part in the squabbles of our neighbors; we will be the parliament born of strife... and this is our city.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:54, Sun 18 July 2021.

It was raining when Amarelle Parathis went out just after sunset to find a drink, and there was strange magic in the rain. It came down in pale lavenders and coppers and reds, soft lines like liquid dusk that turned to luminescent mist on the warm pavement. The air itself felt like champagne bubbles breaking against the skin. Over the dark shapes of distant rooftops, blue–white lightning blazed, and stuttering thunder chased it. Amarelle would have sworn she heard screams mixed in with the thunder.

The gods–damned wizards were at it again.

Well, she had a thirst, and an appointment, and odd rain wasn’t even close to the worst thing that had ever fallen on her from the skies over Theradane. As she walked, Amarelle dripped flickering colors that had no names. She cut a ghostly trail through fog that drifted like the murk beneath a pink and orange sea. As usual when the wizards were particularly bad, she didn’t have much company. The Street of Pale Savants was deserted. Shopkeepers stared forlornly from behind their windows on the Avenue of Seven Angles.
This had been her favorite sort of night, once. Heavy weather to drive witnesses from the streets. Thunder to cover the noise of feet creeping over rooftops. These days it was just lonely, unpredictable, and dangerous.

A double arc of silvery lights marked the Tanglewing Canal Bridge, the last between her and her destination. The lights burned within lamps held by rain–stained white marble statues of shackled, hooded figures. Amarelle kept her eyes fixed on her feet as she crossed the bridge. She knew the plaques beneath the statues by heart. The first two on the left, for example:





The statues themselves didn’t trouble her, or even the lights. So what if the city lit some of its streets and bridges with the unshriven souls of convicts, bound forever into melodramatic sculptures with fatuous plaques? No, the trouble was how those unquiet spirits whispered to passers–by.

Look upon me, beating heart, and witness the price of my broken oaths.

Fuck off, Bolar, muttered Amarelle. I’m not plotting to overthrow the Parliament of Strife.

Take warning, while your blood is still warm, and behold the eternal price of my greed and slaughter!

I don’t have a family to poison, Camira.

Amarelle, whispered the last statue on the left. It ought to be you up here, you faithless bitch.

Amarelle stared at that last inscription, just as she promised herself she wouldn’t every time she came this way.



I never turned my back on you, Amarelle whispered. I paid for sanctuary. We all did. We begged you to get out of the game with us, but you didn’t listen. You blew it.

You bent your knees to my killers before my flesh was even cold.

We all bought ourselves a little piece of the city, Scav. That was the plan. You just did it the hard way.

Some day you will share this vigil with me.

I’m done with all that now. Light your bridge and leave me alone.

There was no having a reasonable conversation with the dead. Amarelle kept moving. She only came this way when she wanted a drink, and by the time she got off the bridge she always needed at least two.

...I'm not proud of how that went...

Thunder rolled through the canyons of the streets. A building was on fire somewhere to the east, smoldering unnatural purple. Flights of screeching bat–winged beasts filled the sky between the flames and the low, glowing clouds. Some of them tangled and fought, with naked claws and barbed spears and clay jars of explosive fog. The objectives the creatures contended for were known only to gods and sorcerers.

Gods–damned wizards and their stupid feuds. Too bad they run the city. Too bad I need their protection
This message was last edited by the player at 02:56, Sun 18 July 2021.

In reply to Amarel Parnassus (msg # 2):

A slender figure moves towards Amarelle, tall despite being hunched against the rain.  The bright colors blending to a muddy gray in the middle distance.  An incongruously cheery voice rings out over the constant rush of rain.

Amarelle Parathis, the Duchess unseen... I see you just fine!

As the figure approaches it is revealed to be a handsome Drow wearing a constabulary of Theradane uniform with a shining captain's bar pinned to the collar.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Fri 02 July 2021.

In reply to Inspector Tangleweb (msg # 3):

That one never gets old.

Amarelle snaps, a bit harsher than she meant to.  Interactions with what was... left of Scavius, always put her on edge.  She doubled her pace hustling past the Drow.

Nice night for a walk inspector.

She quickly adds, tugging her hood towards him.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:56, Sun 18 July 2021.

In reply to Amarel Parnassus (msg # 4):

You off to the Sign of the Fallen Flame tonight?  I'll be sure to have Goldclaw Grask count the silverware when you are done.

He says as Amarelle rushes past him.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:59, Fri 02 July 2021.

In reply to Inspector Tangleweb (msg # 5):

Amarelle spins on her boot heel walking backwards a few paces calling back

I'm retired and LOVING it!  Try to stay out of the rain will you?

In reply to Amarel Parnassus (msg # 6):

The Sign of the Fallen Fire lay on the west side of Tanglewing Street. Was, more accurately, the entire west side of Tanglewing Street. No room for anything else beside the cathedral of coiled bones knocked down fifteen centuries before, back when wild dragons occasionally took offense at the growing size of Theradane and paid it a visit. This one had settled so artistically in death, some long–forgotten entrepreneur had scraped out flesh and scales and roofed the steel–hard bones right where they lay.

Amarelle went in through the dragon’s mouth, shook burnt orange rain from her hair and watched wisps of luminous steam curl up from the carpet where the droplets landed. The bouncers lounging against eight–foot serrated fangs all nodded to her.

The tavern had doors where the dragon had once had tonsils. Those doors smelled good credit and opened smoothly.

The Neck was for dining and the Tail was for gambling. The Arms offered rooms for sleeping or not sleeping, as the renters preferred. Amarelle’s business was in the Gullet, the drinking cavern under the dead beast’s ribs and spine, where one hundred thousand bottles gleamed on racks and shelves behind the central bar.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:04, Sun 04 July 2021.

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 7):

Goldclaw Grask, the floor manager, is an ebony–scaled goblin in a dapper suit woven from actual Bank of Theradane notes. He has one in a different denomination for every night of the week; tonight he wears fifties.

Amarelle Parathis, the Duchess Unseen, he cried. I see you just fine!
This message was last edited by the player at 13:59, Thu 22 July 2021.

In reply to Gold Claw Grask (msg # 8):

That one never gets old, Grask.  Is Sophara on bar tonight?
This message was last edited by the player at 13:59, Thu 22 July 2021.

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 9):

Of course, it’s the seventeenth. Same night of the month your little crew always gets together and pretends it’s just an accident. Those of you that aren’t lighting the streets, that is.

In response to Amarel's glare I rustle over, reach up, take her left hand, and flick my tongue contritely against her knuckles.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be an asshole. I know, you paid the tithe, you’re an honest sheep living under the bombardment like the rest of us. Look, Sophara’s waving. Have one on me.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:30, Thu 22 July 2021.

In reply to Gold Claw Grask (msg # 10):

Sophara Miris has mismatched eyes and skin the color of rosewood, fine aquamarine hair and the hands of a streetside card sharp. When Amarelle paid her sanctuary tithe to the Parliament of Strife, she’d been wanted on three hundred and twelve distinct felony charges in eighteen cities. These days she is senior mage–mixologist at the Sign of the Fallen Fire, and she already had Amarelle’s first drink half–finished.

Evening, stranger. Sophara scrawls orders on a slate and hands it to one of the libationarians, whose encyclopedic knowledge of the contents and locations of all the bottles kept the bar running. Do you remember when we used to be interesting people?

Sophara mused, stirring equal parts liquor and illusion into a multi–layered concoction.

The self–made man’s holding a booth for us. I’m mixing you a Rise and Fall of Empires, but I heard Grask. You want two of these? Or something else?
This message was last edited by the player at 14:11, Thu 22 July 2021.

In reply to Sophara Miris (msg # 11):

I think being alive and at liberty is pretty damn interesting.

She grumbles good naturedly, but perks up at the mention of a second drink

Is your wife joining us tonight?  Mind mixing me a Peril on the Sea?
This message was last edited by the player at 22:39, Mon 27 Sept 2021.

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 12):

She will be here any minute now

In response to the drink request she bows theatrically

Your's to command!  Why don't you take a seat?  I'll be over when the drinks are ready.

In reply to Sophara Miris (msg # 13):

Ten dozen booths and suspended balconies filled the Gullet, each carefully spaced and curtained to allow a sense of intimate privacy in the midst of grand spectacle. Lightning, visible through skylights between the ribs, crackled overhead as Amarelle crossed the floor. Her people had a usual place for their usual night, and Shraplin was holding the table.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:25, Thu 22 July 2021.

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 14):

Shraplin Self–Made, softly whirring concatenation of wires and gears, wore a tattered vermilion cloak embroidered with silver threads. His sculpted brass face had black gemstone eyes and a permanent ghost of a smile. A former foundry drudge, he’d taken advantage of the old Theradane law that a sentient automaton owned its own head and the thoughts therein. Over the course of fifteen years, he’d carefully stolen cogs and screws and bolts and wires and gradually replaced every inch of himself from the neck down until not a speck of his original body remained, and he was able to walk away from the perpetual magical indenture attached to it. Not long after that he’d found klepto–kindred spirits in Amarelle Parathis’ crew.


Looking wet, boss, what’s coming down out there?
This message was lightly edited by the player at 14:32, Thu 22 July 2021.

In reply to Shraplin, Self Made (msg # 15):

/ooc: At this point the characters who arrived early will be already seated with Shraplin, anyone who arrives right on time will show up at the table roughly now.  Describe what you look like, what you are doing and make your greetings.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:50, Thu 22 July 2021.

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 16):

Mr. Sparkles is perched on the end of the table, a collection of baubles and coin in a small pile in front of him. In one claw, he holds a spread of cards; he cocks his head towards Shraplin, one skeptical eye towards the automaton.

<<Your Turn. Stop Delaying. No Win for You>>

((OOG Note: Mr. Sparkles will give a 'notion' of what he is attempting to communicate. Since we've all traveled together, I'm assuming everyone can get the gist of what he's getting at))
This message was last edited by the player at 16:56, Wed 29 Sept 2021.

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 16):

Vyrafaeth makes her slow circuit around the tavern a couple times, drinking her blue fizzy beverage. She always asks Sophara for something blue and fizzy and it tastes different every time. Always delicious. Today seems to be a mix of some berries and a citrusy tea leaf.

After lodging the potential threats, she approaches the table.

I'm sorry, Dr. Hammerstrike will be in shortly. He asked that I take his place at the table until he arrives.

Everyone knows the drill. Cornelius is always late. Everyone also knows that Vryafaeth plays a completely random game. Sometimes she will take a monster hand, but typically she losses big and loves doing it.

It's not her money. It's Cornelius'. It's part of a larger game the two seem to play. Eventually, a dwarf wearing a stylish gold embellished red velvet and silk outfit makes his way to the table. The two materials shouldn't work together, but somehow they do.

Hmph, how much have you lost this time Vrya?

Oh dear, was I supposed to pay attention to that? Vryafaeth looks at the stack of coins. Hmmm....about half?

Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike sputters and harrumphs, kicking her out of the chair and settles in. He picks up her folded hand and nearly jumps back out of the chair. Great Duchess! You folded trips aces! What possessed you to do that!

Sparks' beady little eyes were sparkling more than normal. I'm pretty sure he had us beat. I'll get your drink.

As Vyrafaeth saunters off, Cornelius muttered to himself Damn woman has no gaming sense whatsoever...

In reply to Vyrafaeth (msg # 18):

Shraplin turns dark gemstone eyes on Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike as he berates Vyrafaeth.

I don't know boss.  When Sparkles gets that gleam in his eyes he isn't bluffing.

He says as he throws a hand with three aces into the middle and pushing the pot towards Mr. Sparkles.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:40, Tue 12 Oct 2021.

In reply to Shraplin, Self Made (msg # 19):

Weird water.  Says Amarelle as she shakes off her cloak, the multi-colored water immediately sublimating into a muddy multi-colored fog.  She claps her hands and rubs the together evenly

So are we going to have to go through the sham of me beating you, or would you rather just pile your money neatly infront of me. 

She waves over to Sohphara

Next Rounds' on me!  I plan on having all your money by the end of the night anyway!

In reply to Shraplin, Self Made (msg # 19):

Turning to Shraplin, eyes wide, Wait! Both Vyra and you had trip Aces!?!

Glowering at Mr. Sparkles, Look here Bird Brains, we agreed no cheating at this table. You forfeit this hand!

Cornelius reaches for his part of the gold currently in the pot.

In reply to Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike (msg # 21):

Mr. Sparkles cocks his head to the side, looking suspiciously at Shraplin and Vyrafaeth as he too lays his hand down, and shows trip aces. He moves quickly to the pile of various treasures in the pot in the center of the table, and starts hopping in a circle in an accusatory fashion.

<<9 Aces. How Happen? Suspicion!>>

In reply to Mr. Sparkles (msg # 22):

Luna casually walks through the entrance to the Fallen Flame, a cool breeze following in her wake. She cast her gaze around in a slow, aloof manner, eyeing the patrons but not really paying attention to who is there. With a small smile she casts a quick cantrip which immediately steams the rain from her fur, casting a cloud of rainbow around her.

She makes her way to the bar, her steps soft yet deliberate.

Hello, Sohphara - did I just hear that the next round is on The Dutchess? An Unquiet Rose for me, please.

Luna scooped up her drink, swirls of light green and pink intertwining in the glass. She reaches into a pouch and sprinkles a crystalline powder on top; a little something to calm the nerves. Although she's lived in dense cities the majority of her life, large structures and crowds still scraped on her nerves.

She makes her way to the table where the rest of her companions are assembling, noticing a commotion: Mr. Sparkles cawing accusatorily, hopping around a small crowhoard of treasure at the center of the table. He notices her approach, and gives her the most pathetic of looks.

<<They Cheat. Why they Cheat Me?>>

Luna reaches the table and rests a hip against it. She reaches out and strokes Mr. Sparkles head in an attempt to calm him, the bird shaking his feathers a bit but ultimately calming down.

Hello friends she purrs, smiling at the companions gathered at the table; Please tell me that we're all at least attempting to play fair tonight? You know how Mr. Sparkles gets when we accidentally play our tricks.

Luna slides casually into a seat next to The Dutchess, giving her a soft smile. Mr. Sparkles crambles over to Luna, hopping into her lap, nestling himself in. Luna reaches for Mr. Sparkles pile pulling handful of coin and trinkets from the pot to add to it.

In reply to Luna (msg # 23):

Amarelle gets stony serious when Luna talks of cheating.

Shraplin dear, your probably most sober at this table.  How many cards are in our hands, been played or in the deck?

She says in a dangerous voice

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 24):

74 Boss!

Shraplin states cheery as ever.

In reply to Shraplin, Self Made (msg # 25):

And how many cards in a standard deck?

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 26):

52 Boss!

He says getting slightly nervous from her tone and leer.

In reply to Shraplin, Self Made (msg # 27):

She slumps into a chair covering her face with her hands.

This is pathetic.

She slams a hand sharply on the table.

WHO IS NOT CHEATING?!  YOU SHOULD BE PUSING 90 CARDS BY NOW!

She sighs.

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 28):

As if in response to her slamming a fist on the table Sophara shows up with a tray containing the drinks for those not at the table.  She gently places a hand on Amarelle's back.

Do you remember when we used to be interesting people?

She places a layered blue drink with foaming whitecaps near the bottom and a stormcloud on the front.

A peril on the seas for milady.

She places what looks like an oil can infront of shraplin

Distilled human tempraments for your intoxication pleasure.  Specially designed for your consumption.

She places a small plate infront of Mr. Sparkles, she literally unruffles his feathers as she coos affectionately.

Fermented fruit from Hazar, with alcoholic walnuts from Galena for my favorite bird.

An arakokra from across the room makes an indignant sound.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:56, Wed 13 Oct 2021.

In reply to Sophara Miris (msg # 29):

I'm wearing my cheating hands boss!

Shraplin says moving nimble silver fingers in blurring arcs.

In reply to Shraplin, Self Made (msg # 30):

Brandwin cuts a look that could melt steel at the arakokra as she twines her arm around Sophara's waist.  She looks up at her wife with goggles pushed up on her forehead and eyes sparkling as she says to the indignant customer

Get in line! even I'm behind Sparkles in Sophara's affections...

She looks at the raven pleadingly

Come on Sparkles, every month its the same thing, you know the drill by now.

Responding to Amarelle's outburst she replies calmly

I myself, can attest I have not had an honest hand all night. 
This message was last edited by the player at 13:02, Thu 14 Oct 2021.

In reply to Brandwin Miris (msg # 31):

Mr. Sparkles, upon seeing the small bowl of exotic treats, pops up from Luna's lap and perches on the edge of the table, flipping a boozy walnut into the air and catching it in his beak.

<<So Tasty. Makes Happy!>>

Mr. Sparkles turns with a little hop, cocks his head at Brandwin and gives a small caw.

<<Hard To Cheat Cards With Wings. Heck.>>

He settles back to his bowl, enjoying his tasty treats with small cawing sounds in between bites.

In reply to Mr. Sparkles (msg # 32):

Amarelle strokes the bird affectionately and kicks off the night in earnest, in the traditional method.  She stands up and holds a glass out to the team

Here's a toast.

We did it and lived.  We put ourselves in prison to stay out of prison.  To absent friends, gone where no words nor treasure of ours can restore amends.  We did t an lived.  To the chains we refused and the ones that snared us anyway.  we did it and lived.

She slammed her drink back, thinking that she didn't normally do this without dinner to cushion the impact.  The full impact of the drink hits her and she settles heavily into a chair.

Did you have a few on your way over here boss? Asks Shraplin.

The Duchess is dead.  Long live the Duchess. She says setting her empty glass down.

The night lapses into a happily drunken night with cards, banter and lots of money changing hands. The rain pounds away at the skylights of the furnished belly of the beast as thunder rumbles in the distance an lightning arcs overhead.

A loud explosion rips through the interior of the belly of the beast causing a number of patrons to jump to their feet looking around surprised.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:39, Tue 26 Oct 2021.

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 33):

At the first sound of the explosion Grask immediately begins milling about his constituency in the gullet reassuring the patrons and ensuring the money keeps flowing

The Sign of the fallen flame has stood for thousands of years, there is no place safer in all of Theradane.  Why don't you consider booking a room in the arms?  Make a night of it.

He says desperation tinging his voice as people begin to leave the gullet.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:33, Tue 26 Oct 2021.

In reply to Gold Claw Grask (msg # 34):

That'sh one advantage of living in our proshperoush thaumatoc... thaumatoto... oh fucking wizardsh, present company excluded of course.

She nods deferentially at Sophara

always shomething interesting eshploding nearby.

Amarelle slurs into her drink.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:17, Tue 26 Oct 2021.

In reply to Shraplin, Self Made (msg # 36):

Why would I except present company?!

Brandwin says playing with Sophara's hair.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:19, Tue 26 Oct 2021.

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 37):

Fair enough... what the hell did I just drink?

She turns and bellows

NEXT ROUNDSH ON ME!!!!! 
This message was last edited by the player at 13:53, Tue 26 Oct 2021.

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 38):

Next Round's IN you, boss.

In reply to Shraplin, Self Made (msg # 39):

A little something I call 'The Amoral instrument'.

Said Sophara with her eyes shining.

I'm not allowed to make it for customers.  Kind of curious to see what happens to you in fact.

It's been terrible all week.  I think it's Ivovandas, over in the High Barrens.  Her and some rival I haven't identified, spitting fire, and rain and flyin gthings all over the damn plase.  The parasol sellers have been aking a killing with those new leather and chainmail models.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:31, Tue 26 Oct 2021.

In reply to Sophara Miris (msg # 40):

Somebody ought to stroll up there and politely ask them to give it a rest. 

Shraplin's gleaming head rotated slowly until he was peering at Amarelle.

Someone famous, maybe.  Someone colorful and respected.  Someone with a dangerous reputation.

In reply to Shraplin, Self Made (msg # 41):

Better to say nothing and be thought a fool, than to interefere in the business of wizards and remove all doubt.  Who needs a fresh round?  Next one's still on me.  I plan on having all your money when we call it a night anyway.

The room had much softer edges than she had remembered and significantly more movement.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:32, Tue 26 Oct 2021.

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 42):

Another hour goes by as the group continues to play and talk ignoring the wizard's battle going on all around them.

Suddenly there is the high pitched sound of shattering glass...

[Please make a DC 12 Dex check with disadvantage if you have been drinking.]

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 43):

Dr. Cornelius failed.
Vyra Passed.

In reply to Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike (msg # 44):

Luna rolled 2 using 1d20+1. (Failed)

In reply to Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike (msg # 44):

Mr. Sparkles rolled 3 using 1d20+2.  (Failed)
This message was last updated by the player at 16:08, Fri 05 Nov 2021.

In reply to Mr. Sparkles (msg # 46):

As the glass lands on the table much of the party scatters like billiard balls in random directions.  Almost all of them able to avoid a half-ton of something wet, stinking, dough and burning with multicolored fire crushing their table.  It lands with a thud and a wiggle not moving.

Sophara and Brandwin fly in separate directions as they throw themselves backwards from the table.  Vyrafaeth grabs Dr. Hammerstrike flinging him out of harms way as he skids safely to a stop behind her.

Luna and Mr. Sparkles come to their senses with a dull pain in their chests (2 damage to each).  As they regain their senses they can see the motionless head of Shraplin sticking out from under the hulking figure.  He had launched himself across the table, taking the full brunt of the impact so that they did not have to.

Amarelle tumbles backward out of her chair, coming unsteadily back up to her feet.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:31, Mon 08 Nov 2021.

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 47):

Amarelle's face twists in rage as she takes stock of the table

SHRAPLIN

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 48):

The mountain of maggot colored flesh... begins to slowly wobble its way up to its feet.

----------------

Begin Combat.  Roll initiative.

----------------

Disposition:

Sophara, Brandwin, Dr. Hammerstrike, Luna, and Mr. Sparkles are 20 feet away and prone.

Shraplin is unconscious

Amarelle, and Vyrafaeth are on their feet 10 feet from the hulking ogre zombie.

Initiative tracker:

Ogre Zombie: 9
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:27, Mon 08 Nov 2021.

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 49):

21:46, Today: Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike rolled 19 using 1d20+2.

21:46, Today: Vyrafaeth rolled 10 using 1d20+2

In reply to Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike (msg # 50):

Luna rolled 10 using 1d20+1,  Initiative.

In reply to Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike (msg # 50):

Mr. Sparkles rolled 11 using 1d20+1,  Initiative.

In reply to Mr. Sparkles (msg # 52):

Luna stares at the roof, dazed but still coherent enough to realize this was not going to be a typical card night.

She reaches out with both hands, haphazardly trying to feel for something.

Mr. Sparkles...give me a sign...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:01, Wed 10 Nov 2021.

In reply to Luna (msg # 53):

From under a piece of glass, Mr. Sparkles stares at the roof, dazed but still coherent enough to realize he should cut down on imbibing on boozy treats during card night.

He rolls to one side, and sees Luna reaching around the rubble for him. He flips one wing to knock off the glass, replying to Luna,

<<Am Here. Am Confused.>>

Dr. Hammerstrike uses his movement to scramble backwards as he stands up. He holds his arm out and a golden purple beam launches from an amber crystal embedded in his glove.

07:28, Today: Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike rolled 15 using 1d20+4.

if a 15 hits:

07:28, Today: Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike rolled 10 using 2d6+2.

Vyra! Kill that thing! Get in there!

Muttering to himself,
This establishment has severely dropped in the clientele that it accepts. Perhaps we should start meeting at some place more upscale.

In reply to Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike (msg # 55):

Initiative Order

1. Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike
   
2. Amarelle Parathis
   
3. Sophara Miris
   
4. Mr. Sparkles
   
5. Luna
   
6. Vyrafeaeth
   
7. Zombie Ogre

AC for Zombie Ogre: 9

The large monster has multicolored radiant flames dripping off of him.  As these hit the floor they evaporate in multi-colored steam that mixes together to make the entire room swim in impressionistic psychadelic colors.

Amarelle rushes forward with a wordless roar of rage. In quick succession she pulls out a short sword and slashes three quick cuts across the monstrosities belly, spilling black ichor on the floor.  (22 Damage)

Sophara conjures a fire bolt that zig zags through the air striking the large zombie directly between the eyes (Crit.  7 damage).

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 56):

Luna rolls over onto her stomach, eyes a little blurry from being blown backwards. She pushes herself up, palms to the ground, and at the same time casts:

Entangle

A 20-ft square of exotic vines blast through the remains of their table, grasping at the zombie ogre, attempting to slow it's movement.

(I need a STR Check - looking to beat a 12)
(Success - frees itself)
(Fail - ground is considered 'difficult terrain')

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 56):

Mr. Sparkles flips himself onto his feet, and fluffs himself vigorously to shake off the remaining dust and debris. He looks around, seeing the hulking mass where the table used to be, and his companions attacking with bravado. Noticing familiar vines slithering up from the floor, Mr. Sparkles spreads his wings and lifts himself into the air with a large swoosh of downdraft. At the crest of his flight he tucks in his wings, falling back towards the zombie ogre, beak glimmering in the light of the Inn.

Mr. Sparkles rolled 24 using 1d20+6.  Attack.

Mr. Sparkles breaks his descent right in front of the zombie ogres face by throwing out one wing, looping his trajectory around it's head, scarring across it's eyes with his beak.

Mr. Sparkles rolled 5 using 1d4+2.  Damage.

<<I was winning. First Time Ever. Jerk.>>

In reply to Mr. Sparkles (msg # 58):

The vines try to encase the large monster, but with a roar it breaks free snapping the vines like dry twigs

[Strength Save: Success]
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:47, Tue 23 Nov 2021.

<quote Scavius of Shadow Street>
In reply to Mr. Sparkles (msg # 58):

Upon hearing the roar Luna shakes her head, attempting to clear some of the fog left from being tossed from the table. She peers towards the monstrosity and lets her face settle into a disappointing frown.

...at least they looked beautiful Luna mutters, poising herself for her next move, watching Mr. Sparkles conduct his aerial display.

Vyra glances back to watch Dr. Hammerstrike shuffling backwards, shoving chips into his pockets and blasting the Rainbow Zombie. Ensuring that he's safe, she turns back to the creature and focuses, looking for what passes as a thinking/processing center for this creature.

Ahhh...there it is. Vyra squeezes on the part of the Rainbow Zombie that is driving it forward.

09:29, Today: Vyrafaeth rolled 11 using 3d8.  Mind Spike attack. – 11

Wis 13 save. If saved, 1/2 damage.

(Is there a way to directly link the rolls, or do we just have to cite them here?)
This message was last edited by the player at 14:39, Wed 24 Nov 2021.

In reply to Vyrafaeth (msg # 61):

Vyra feels an ironclad will as they press into the psychic connection to the Zombie, this is clearly being piloted by a part of the parliament of strife.

[Wisdom Save: Success (Yes I am surprised too)]

Bright tongues of dissipating steam are shaken from the monstrosity as it takes its beating and splatter onto Amarel, which behave very differently than they had previously, bursting into multicolored flames.

[3 Acid Damage]

Oh COME ON!  She yells as the acidic flames begin to eat through her dress.

Her anger catches the beasts attention and it turns and swings its morningstar, catching Amarel square in the chest.

[18 Damage]

She grunts as the air is driven out of her.  She takes a brief pause to collect herself and looks at the holes in her outfit.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:42, Mon 06 Dec 2021.

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 62):

Cornelius quickly grabbing fist-fulls of chips and shoving them into his pocket, takes another shot at the zombie, reaching out his hand with purple lightning shooting from his bracer.

21 to hit.

7 damage.

In reply to Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike (msg # 63):


THAT.  WAS.  NEW!!!!

She rages, punctuating each word with a slash across the stomach and legs.

[18 damage]

With an unsteady flourish she breaks free from the monster and takes cover behind a table.

[Cunning action - Disengage].
This message was last edited by the player at 19:00, Tue 07 Dec 2021.

In reply to Amarelle Parathis (msg # 64):

Another firebolt streaks from Sophara's hand streaking into the zombie's shoulder

[3 damage]

In reply to Sophara Miris (msg # 65):

The large zombie is definitely looking the worse for wear as it totters around uncertainly, looking for the nimble rogue it had been engaged with.  It roars wordlessly.

Remaining Initiative:

1. Mr. Sparkles
   
2. Luna
   
3. Vyrafeaeth
   
4. Zombie Ogre

Mr. Sparkles, circling around the monstrosity's head catches with his keen eye Dr. Cornelius shoving chips into his pocket with one hand while attempting to zap the monster.

<<Hey. I Won Those. Dr. Thief!>>

With one eye on Dr. Cornelius, Mr. Sparkles swoops in, attacking the zombies eyes with his beak again:

Mr. Sparkles rolled 23 using 1d20+6.  Swoop Attack.
Mr. Sparkles rolled 5 using 1d4+2.  Damage.

With the presence of a pout on her face still showing her disappointment of the vines not snaring the creature, Luna casually reaches into one of her pockets, grasps a tiny, rounded stone in between her thumb and forefinger, and whips it at the zombie.

Luna rolled 23 using 1d20+4.  Ranged Spell Attack.

The magic stone impacts the zombie with a remarkable audible thud, and explodes into a swirl of green sparks.

Luna rolled 7 using 1d6+2.  Damage.

Frustrated, Vyra again clamps down on the things brain stem trying to crush it. But this time, with spite!

Vyrafaeth rolled 9 using 3d8.  Mind Spike attack

Wis 13 save 1/2 damage.

In reply to Vyrafaeth (msg # 69):

A deep roar gurgles from the Zombie's throat as a remarkably stupid look strikes its face... this is saying a lot because it is actually extremely dumb... and ugly.  It stomps over to Vyrafaeth and swings a mighty overhand smash

[19 Damage]
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:57, Fri 10 Dec 2021.

Vyra takes the hit hard, stumbling backward, clearly dazed. Dr. Cornelius steps forward and steadies her. Surreptitiously keeping Vyra's body between himself and the rainbow monster, he takes a shot with his lightning launcher again.

You are supposed to protect me! Why am I the one who is here keeping you safe?! Just hold still and don't mess up my shot.

22 to hit
8 damage

In reply to Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike (msg # 71):

[END COMBAT]

The strike hits the monster straight in the throat as he falls in near slow motion to the floor.  The rainbow fire begins to consume the monster as it rapidly bloats, it projectile vomits black ichor covered in polychromatic flames covers the party, floor and several nearby customers.

[Dex Checks please.  DC 12 or take 5 ice damage.  Half on success]

The ogre falls to the ground continuing to swell until it ruptures with a putrid smell and distressingly loud farting sound as it deflates, the flames consuming it to bones in mere seconds.

[Notice Checks please.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:28, Tue 14 Dec 2021.

In reply to Scavius of Shadow Street (msg # 72):

Brandwin charges through the burning black vomit, heedless of the damage to herself or her clothes and slides to a stop at Shraplins side.  Tears in her eyes as she picks up the automaton's head stroking it affectionately.

Shraplin, are you still in there?

When no response is immediately forthcoming she sets the robot's head on the table and begins to open it up with a toolset on her belt.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:14, Tue 14 Dec 2021.

Mr. Sparkles was mid-divebomb when Dr. Cornelius' shot struck the monster; black ichor coats and freezes Mr. Sparkles who struggles to stay airborne. His gooey body starts plummeting to the ground, with hoarfrost trailing off of him.

Mr. Sparkles rolled 8 using 1d20+2.  Dex Check.
Mr. Sparkles takes 5 Damage
This message was last updated by the player at 15:31, Tue 14 Dec 2021.

Luna sees Mr. Sparkles get covered in ichor and begin his freefall.

Mr. Sparkles, no!

In a burst of Feline Agility (trait) she closes the gap between herself and Mr. Sparkles, dodging as much of the ichor as she can.

Luna rolled 14 using 1d20+1.  Dex Check.
Luna takes 2 Ice Damage

She leaps across the corpse, grabs Mr. Sparkles, and lands effortlessly on the other side. Luna, without pause, walks up next to Brandwin and places Mr. Sparkles down next to Shraplin's head. She pulls out a small vial and a rose-embroidered cloth from a small bag on her hip. She uncorks the vial, releasing a smell of lilac and honey into the air; Luna flicks a few drops out of the vial onto Mr. Sparkles and tenderly starts to clean his wings.

Oh you poor boy, your pretty feathers are all sticky.

Mr. Sparkles shivers and lets out a tiny caw.

Luna looks over at Brandwin and lifts the vial up to her.

Would you like some for Mr. Shraplin? I believe he has some on his face...

Luna rolled 22 using 1d20+4.  Perception Check.
Mr. Sparkles rolled 5 using 1d20+3.  Perception Check.
This message was last updated by the player at 16:16, Tue 14 Dec 2021.

Vyra rolled a 15, but only had 1 hp left.

Dr. Cornelius rolled a 21.

As the ichor fountain erupts, Dr. C pulls Vyra down on top of him, getting her out of most of the spray, but ensuring that as little as possible hits him.

Struggling with an unconscious Vyra on top of him, Dr. C heaves and grunts, sliding her off from on top of him.

Good lass, thank you for that. CAN WE GET A HEAL OVER HERE PLEASE. MY BODYGUARD HAS ADSORBED ALL OF THE DAMAGE FOR ME!

In reply to Dr. Cornelius Hammerstrike (msg # 77):

Both Luna and Vyrafaeth notice that the chandeliers are swinging oddly from above where they are to the front and catch a glimpse of Amarel's blue dress exiting the door with a flourish.

Almost on queue... the door opens with a slam and Gold Claw Grask charges into the dining room, his bank of theradane suit positively ruined by the multicolored rain a halo of steam evaporating arouind him.  He leads inspector Tangleweb and a group of 5 Theradane constables into the room.  The room which seemed to have been holding its collective breath during the intense combat erupts into a flurry of activity.

Grask points at the mage-mixologists

You three!  Cleaning duty.

He grabs a box with a red cross on it off of a wall and rushes towards the party.  His eyes darting aroudn the room taking in every detail.  He opens the box which you notice is already missing a healing potion, he looks mildly surprised and then administers a greater healing potion to Vyrafaeth (4D4+4 HP).

As Vyra comes to he takes their hand and licks the back of her knuckles... no small feet considering they were covered in disgusting ogre vomit.  He does not flinch.

Did you and your friends take that monstrosity down?  That is no small feat.

He presses something into Vyra's hand, closes her fingers around it and pivots with shocking agility clambors up on the nearest table clearing his throat and projecting over the din.

All drinks and meals are complimentary tonight!  Additionally, if you wish to claim a room in the arms for tonight it is yours!  All those injured please report to the maitre D we will see to your wounds and bring a healer round.

He leaps down from the table and becomes a whirlwind of activity.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:07, Wed 15 Dec 2021.

In reply to Gold Claw Grask (msg # 78):

Inspector Tangleweb enters the room and immediately begins calming the situation and smoothing things out.  The inspectors were ready for battle but now find themselves instead tending to frightened patrons and assisting in the cleanup effort.

Grask, you are truly fortunate that they were here and know how to handle themselves in a situation like this.  It could have been so much worse...
This message was last edited by the player at 14:12, Wed 15 Dec 2021.

In reply to Inspector Tangleweb (msg # 79):

With sweat pouring down her forehead, and icy flames still burning on her back Brandwin has her tongue sticking slightly out of her mouth in a sign of concentration.  She nods her acquiescence for Luna wipe the vomit from Shraplins head.  She doesn't speak as she is lost in thought, laser focused on what she is doing.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:26, Wed 15 Dec 2021.

Luna produces a soft smile and pauses cleaning Mr. Sparkles for a moment to clean off a bit on Shraplin's head. When finished, she goes back to finishing up cleaning off Mr. Sparkles, humming softly, her keen feline eyes following the movement of her companion through the lightworks and out the door.

When she finishes cleaning off Mr. Sparkles, she pulls him in for a quick hug, closing her eyes and muttering under her breath.

Luna casts Cure Wounds on herself and Mr. Sparkles (linked spells)
Luna rolled 7 using 1d8+4.  Cure Wounds.

Luna releases the large bird back onto the table. "There, all better Mr. Sparkles! Don't you look brilliant again." She steps back and looks around the room at all of the destruction, and the new 'visitors' to the tavern, eyes landing on Inspector Tangleweb.

"Oh my. We're in trouble again, aren't we..." she whispers aloud.

In reply to Luna (msg # 81):

Not at all my dear Luna.  Ivovandas and some unknown competitor are at it again we know this is nothing to do with you at all.  I only wish we had gotten here faster to save you the trouble.

He crouches down and looks at what has now been consumed to bone and ash.  The rainbow colored flames still dancing on the bones trying to eat it to nothing.

Though, perhaps I am glad that you were here to take care of it.  This would have put up one hell of a fight.  I'm actually impressed you were able to fight in the state that you are currently in...

He says with a knowing smile, his eyes darting to look at the variety, type and quantity of drinking glasses strewn about the floor.  He stands up and pulls a small container out of his breast pocket

I am certain you availed yourself quite well in combat as well. 

He says placing a small handful of walnuts infront of Mr. Sparkles.

If there is anything we can offer you I am at your service.  We can take it from here.  Perhaps you should take Grask up on his offer for the evening?
This message was last edited by the player at 13:09, Thu 16 Dec 2021.

Mr. Sparkles saunters slowly over to the walnuts and starts beaking away at them, ruffling his feathers every so often, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of rainbow spewing ichor.

<<I pecked eyeballs. He ruined my winning.>>

After a few moments, and hearing Insp. Tangleweb's offer, Mr. Sparkles looks up at Luna with big, black (anime quiver) eyes;

<<I'm sleepy. Let's Room. Please?>>

Luna turns around quickly, startled that Insp. Tangleweb heard her murmur. She looks down to see him poking at the remains, and watches him stand back up, towering above her.

"I...didn't know you were there. Thank you for the kind words, we just...we just reacted I guess...best under pressure they say?" Luna replies, staring up at him.

Mr. Sparkles draws her attention with big croweyes and a gentle peck, asking to head to bed.

"Yes, I am a bit exhausted. All from the fight of course, and definitely not from anything I consumed from this fine, reputable establishment..."

Luna looks around at her companions, who are in a variety of states of distraught. She just notices that Vyra had taken the brunt of the whooping.

"Insp. Tangleweb, I'll be ready in a moment. Let me just check..."

Luna glides over to Vyra, who is now no longer on top of Dr. CH. She touches her gently on the shoulder to get her attention. Mr. Sparkles hops up onto the perch that is on Luna backpack, disappearing into a hand-crafted wooden bird house entry way.

"Vyra, are you well? That was quite a thing you did for Dr. CH." Luna says, eyes slowly drifting to Dr. CH.

"I take it you are okay. Insp. Tangleweb has suggested to room here tonight. Mr. Sparkles and I are staying...will you two as well?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:38, Wed 22 Dec 2021.

In reply to Luna (msg # 84):

The inspector allows Luna to speak to Dr. Hammerstrike and Vyra he smiles patiently and charming awaiting a break in the conversation.

I know it is well past closing time, Luna, but I was wondering if you have any baked goods left over that I may purchase from you?  I have been meaning to put in an order for quite some time.

"Oh, I um...let me check..." says Luna, caught off guard and a little flustered. She reaches towards her hip bags...

Luna rolls a perception check to determine of Insp. Tangleweb meant Baked Goods or 'Baked Goods'.

Luna rolled 21 using 1d20+4.  Perception
This message was last updated by the player at 18:22, Mon 27 Dec 2021.

...and with a last minute side-glance, notices the smallest of smirks and a tiny eye squint on Insp. Tangleweb's face. Luna deftly moves her hand to the outward facing pocket, pulling out a small square wrapped in a soft leaf tied with twine. The scent of honey and lavender faintly wafts into the area, just barely noticeable over the smell of exploded zombie-bits everywhere.

"I...think this would be a good first order then. Compliments of 'Starry Wings Bakery'." Luna says with a soft unassuming smile, handing the package to Insp. Tangleweb.

In her head she hears "<<So Close. Almost Caught. Heck.>>"
This message was last updated by the player at 17:50, Mon 27 Dec 2021.