Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Sic Pixie's Carrion Crown Adventure Path
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Sic_Pixie" data-source="post: 5980774" data-attributes="member: 52403"><p><strong>Wake of the Watcher</strong></p><p></p><p>The streets are quiet, barely a soul stirs as the first rays of sunlight break through the oppressive gloom that was has been the last several days of stormy weather. The heroes of Carrion Hill appear walking out of the impressive town hall building; five figures each striding with purpose each confident in their power and the bonds of friendship; they walk in no mans shadow. </p><p></p><p>Leading the way is a lean whippet thin half elf, his eyes scanning every street, ally and rooftop for movement. His relaxed stride a cover for the perpetual tension he is in; his ‘hand’ never far from his bow which looks like it has been well used with a quiver to match. He is wearing a simple cloak currently thrown over one shoulder to allow his right arms full maneuverability however this arm is sheathed in a thick skin tight leather glove strapped to his armor and does not move in the normal manner. It flexes along its length and it seems to undulate more than swing like a normal arm; his eyes are black pits with a burning halo of silver fire which would make anyone nervous to meet this deep soul searching gaze. Meeting and keeping this gaze one would see weirdly moving constellations deep within these eyes as if looking at some distant unknown galaxy. His well tooled leather belt holds a variety of weapons from a simple knife to a very nice looking longsword which he holds in check with his left hand. The remainder of his outfit looks well repaired and functional consisting of combat leathers and a dark green/grey cotton shirt. His face is pleasant enough until you notice some strange movement along the cheek bone or the faint ripple of something moving under the skin.</p><p></p><p>Pringle follows behind Grembor; his feet still shuffle occasionally as his eyes gaze more inwards than taking note of his surrounding. He is dressed in an easy fitting cotton shirt with woolen pants, sturdy boots cover his feet and a wide leather belt clinches his waist. Hanging from his belt is a dagger along with several other items which a scribe would find useful. His hand grips a fancifully carved staff of yew wood which taps in cadence to his footsteps on the cobbled street. Small wire rimmed spectacles sit precariously upon his nose as if he forgot they were there as he looks over them at his surroundings before returning to his own inner thoughts on the theory of magic and how it should be used. A thick cloak covers his slender shoulders wrapped around for warmth and upon his back is a heavy looking satchel out of which several square shapes suggest the presence of several books. Every now and then he gazes with longing and mild jealousy at Grembor’s right arm. His eyes seem to glow with an inner silvery purple fire and there is madness hiding deep within those silvery orbs as if he knows things which would shatter a normal person’s sanity like a dry twig.</p><p></p><p>Gliding gracefully behind Pringle flitting from the front of the party to the rear is Sayuri; her enhanced movement sending her leaping to the front to have a quick conversation with Grembor before her mind takes her sweeping back to her previous position. She is dressed in well made traveling attire consisting of cotton and silk in several colours. There are few weapons upon her person apart from a dagger which looks very similar to one practically everyone else is wearing; her long legs seems to eat up the distance as she strides elegantly and without effort through along the walkway. Her eyes brimming with mischief are both tinted with silver but one burns red while the other is a vivid green; her raven dark hair moves in a sudden breeze as her eyes scan the surrounding area missing little. Shadows dance around her feet and every movement is followed by the faint after image of shadowstuff in her wake. She is smiling and her cheery demeanor is infectious to the whole party although one may notice a certain coldness in the eyes behind the pleasant exterior.</p><p></p><p>Moving nimbly along with Sayuri even though he is dressed in a fanciful set of Elven full plate is Zordlan; Sayuri’s protector and guardian. His job to keep her out of harms way has not been going quite to plan. His helmet is hanging from his belt and his large curved sword is currently strapped to his back which is interfering with his cloaks regular movement. His eyes are constantly on Sayuri and the environment surrounding her; they stray to the rooftops and to dark alleys to check for assassins or other persons of ill favor. His lovely plate armor is seriously dented here and there with a large welt across his breastplate which causes him some concern every now and then. The sword strapped to his back is well used and anyone observing the party would know instantly that this was someone to be concerned about in a fight. Apart from the obvious armor and large weapons his eyes also burn with a vivid silver light; the iris however is a deep black soulless holes of despair and looking for too long into them you tend to see stars and planets of unknown constellations. His skin ripples as if there was something underneath wishing to get out but it is currently trapped within the skin suit; it happens so rapidly that you don’t believe it actually happened and maybe it’s some trick of the light. As soon as his dead eyed gaze turns your way you know it was no trick and this elf’s soul is barren to the core. He stinks to high heaven with the most disgusting aroma imaginable; you would think it was the worst smell in the world until you smell that which follows in his footsteps.</p><p></p><p>Stumping along behind everyone is Nashkar; he is armored in what was once very good Dwarven plate but it is currently looking battered and very torn; there a rents in the metal as if some great toothed maw had tried to bite him in half. There is the definite stick of something noxious about him and anyone who gets too close is soon sent vomiting into the closest side street as the choking stick of his slime covered armor mixed with vomited dwarven ale and the general stink of a dwarf who has been wearing armor all day. Even Nashkar is finding the smell overwhelming and he is chocking back on his own vomit from time to time as the wind changes. His grey eyes stare ahead in a determined fashion; jaw set and teeth clenched behind his beard still showing the lumpy after effects of being vomited into. His helmet is currently swaying alongside his marvelously fashioned axe while his shield is strapped to his back. He is not a happy dwarf but then would we even know if he was happy behind all those whiskers and dour exterior. This is one Dwarf who need a bath and hell will find whoever gets in the way of this most noble of quests. </p><p></p><p>The whole party feels dirtied beyond imagining as the aroma of some of the party members seems to have been absorbed into their own clothing. Sprits are however quite high as they are the saviors of Carrion Hill and they have just been paid for the slaying of a terrible smelly aspect of an ancient god. The payment in no way covered their expenses though but you can't have everything and they did just do some god killing so that counts for something ... Right?</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sic_Pixie, post: 5980774, member: 52403"] [b]Wake of the Watcher[/b] The streets are quiet, barely a soul stirs as the first rays of sunlight break through the oppressive gloom that was has been the last several days of stormy weather. The heroes of Carrion Hill appear walking out of the impressive town hall building; five figures each striding with purpose each confident in their power and the bonds of friendship; they walk in no mans shadow. Leading the way is a lean whippet thin half elf, his eyes scanning every street, ally and rooftop for movement. His relaxed stride a cover for the perpetual tension he is in; his ‘hand’ never far from his bow which looks like it has been well used with a quiver to match. He is wearing a simple cloak currently thrown over one shoulder to allow his right arms full maneuverability however this arm is sheathed in a thick skin tight leather glove strapped to his armor and does not move in the normal manner. It flexes along its length and it seems to undulate more than swing like a normal arm; his eyes are black pits with a burning halo of silver fire which would make anyone nervous to meet this deep soul searching gaze. Meeting and keeping this gaze one would see weirdly moving constellations deep within these eyes as if looking at some distant unknown galaxy. His well tooled leather belt holds a variety of weapons from a simple knife to a very nice looking longsword which he holds in check with his left hand. The remainder of his outfit looks well repaired and functional consisting of combat leathers and a dark green/grey cotton shirt. His face is pleasant enough until you notice some strange movement along the cheek bone or the faint ripple of something moving under the skin. Pringle follows behind Grembor; his feet still shuffle occasionally as his eyes gaze more inwards than taking note of his surrounding. He is dressed in an easy fitting cotton shirt with woolen pants, sturdy boots cover his feet and a wide leather belt clinches his waist. Hanging from his belt is a dagger along with several other items which a scribe would find useful. His hand grips a fancifully carved staff of yew wood which taps in cadence to his footsteps on the cobbled street. Small wire rimmed spectacles sit precariously upon his nose as if he forgot they were there as he looks over them at his surroundings before returning to his own inner thoughts on the theory of magic and how it should be used. A thick cloak covers his slender shoulders wrapped around for warmth and upon his back is a heavy looking satchel out of which several square shapes suggest the presence of several books. Every now and then he gazes with longing and mild jealousy at Grembor’s right arm. His eyes seem to glow with an inner silvery purple fire and there is madness hiding deep within those silvery orbs as if he knows things which would shatter a normal person’s sanity like a dry twig. Gliding gracefully behind Pringle flitting from the front of the party to the rear is Sayuri; her enhanced movement sending her leaping to the front to have a quick conversation with Grembor before her mind takes her sweeping back to her previous position. She is dressed in well made traveling attire consisting of cotton and silk in several colours. There are few weapons upon her person apart from a dagger which looks very similar to one practically everyone else is wearing; her long legs seems to eat up the distance as she strides elegantly and without effort through along the walkway. Her eyes brimming with mischief are both tinted with silver but one burns red while the other is a vivid green; her raven dark hair moves in a sudden breeze as her eyes scan the surrounding area missing little. Shadows dance around her feet and every movement is followed by the faint after image of shadowstuff in her wake. She is smiling and her cheery demeanor is infectious to the whole party although one may notice a certain coldness in the eyes behind the pleasant exterior. Moving nimbly along with Sayuri even though he is dressed in a fanciful set of Elven full plate is Zordlan; Sayuri’s protector and guardian. His job to keep her out of harms way has not been going quite to plan. His helmet is hanging from his belt and his large curved sword is currently strapped to his back which is interfering with his cloaks regular movement. His eyes are constantly on Sayuri and the environment surrounding her; they stray to the rooftops and to dark alleys to check for assassins or other persons of ill favor. His lovely plate armor is seriously dented here and there with a large welt across his breastplate which causes him some concern every now and then. The sword strapped to his back is well used and anyone observing the party would know instantly that this was someone to be concerned about in a fight. Apart from the obvious armor and large weapons his eyes also burn with a vivid silver light; the iris however is a deep black soulless holes of despair and looking for too long into them you tend to see stars and planets of unknown constellations. His skin ripples as if there was something underneath wishing to get out but it is currently trapped within the skin suit; it happens so rapidly that you don’t believe it actually happened and maybe it’s some trick of the light. As soon as his dead eyed gaze turns your way you know it was no trick and this elf’s soul is barren to the core. He stinks to high heaven with the most disgusting aroma imaginable; you would think it was the worst smell in the world until you smell that which follows in his footsteps. Stumping along behind everyone is Nashkar; he is armored in what was once very good Dwarven plate but it is currently looking battered and very torn; there a rents in the metal as if some great toothed maw had tried to bite him in half. There is the definite stick of something noxious about him and anyone who gets too close is soon sent vomiting into the closest side street as the choking stick of his slime covered armor mixed with vomited dwarven ale and the general stink of a dwarf who has been wearing armor all day. Even Nashkar is finding the smell overwhelming and he is chocking back on his own vomit from time to time as the wind changes. His grey eyes stare ahead in a determined fashion; jaw set and teeth clenched behind his beard still showing the lumpy after effects of being vomited into. His helmet is currently swaying alongside his marvelously fashioned axe while his shield is strapped to his back. He is not a happy dwarf but then would we even know if he was happy behind all those whiskers and dour exterior. This is one Dwarf who need a bath and hell will find whoever gets in the way of this most noble of quests. The whole party feels dirtied beyond imagining as the aroma of some of the party members seems to have been absorbed into their own clothing. Sprits are however quite high as they are the saviors of Carrion Hill and they have just been paid for the slaying of a terrible smelly aspect of an ancient god. The payment in no way covered their expenses though but you can't have everything and they did just do some god killing so that counts for something ... Right? [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Sic Pixie's Carrion Crown Adventure Path
Top