Manbearcat
Legend
The satyr warlock leads you through the nearly opaque fog to a pole and bough lean-to. Next to it is the structure he is working on; a partially constructed log cabin with a heavily pitched, thatched roof. Runes are carved into every timber. Foundationless, it rests on temporary stilts. Nearby, a pair of impossibly large, disembodied chicken legs stand motionless.
Stoppered potions. Bundles of varying alchemical reagents. A dormant firepit. A small black kettle hanging from a spit. A simple bedroll and foodstuffs.
He grasps a mortar and pestle, retrieves varying components and goes to work. Once finished, he pours the powdered mash from the iron receptacle into one hand. In the other he takes up the necklace Saerie provided him. He holds both skyward. As the granules sift through his fingers, he begins an incomprehensible chant of ancient arcane power.
The answer is cold. With it comes pervasive, overwhelming despair. It spreads like the fog, only an emotional one...and more weighty.
Whispers. So quiet. A wail so sorrowful, so filled with despair that it bleeds into your heart. They gather and crescendo with suddenness. A malevolent shriek cuts the air. All malice. It carries physical power along with its mental assault. The lean-to explodes under the force of it and loose items are shunted everywhere accompanied by various sounds of clanging and breaking.
A pair of silhouettes manifest from the epicenter, flurries of snow somewhat masking their spectral nature. So very faintly can you make out the nearly lost features of a pair of lovely eladrin females, orbs peering at you with a collage of twisted, negative emotions.
Farmer Barnum, a powerful warlock, is reduced to tears and terror...a grovelling goat-man in the fetal position.
[sblock]Both of you need to Defy Danger (Wis) and lets see where this goes. The figures are at Reach range in the center of the debris field of the obliterated lean-to.[/sblock]
Stoppered potions. Bundles of varying alchemical reagents. A dormant firepit. A small black kettle hanging from a spit. A simple bedroll and foodstuffs.
He grasps a mortar and pestle, retrieves varying components and goes to work. Once finished, he pours the powdered mash from the iron receptacle into one hand. In the other he takes up the necklace Saerie provided him. He holds both skyward. As the granules sift through his fingers, he begins an incomprehensible chant of ancient arcane power.
The answer is cold. With it comes pervasive, overwhelming despair. It spreads like the fog, only an emotional one...and more weighty.
Whispers. So quiet. A wail so sorrowful, so filled with despair that it bleeds into your heart. They gather and crescendo with suddenness. A malevolent shriek cuts the air. All malice. It carries physical power along with its mental assault. The lean-to explodes under the force of it and loose items are shunted everywhere accompanied by various sounds of clanging and breaking.
A pair of silhouettes manifest from the epicenter, flurries of snow somewhat masking their spectral nature. So very faintly can you make out the nearly lost features of a pair of lovely eladrin females, orbs peering at you with a collage of twisted, negative emotions.
Farmer Barnum, a powerful warlock, is reduced to tears and terror...a grovelling goat-man in the fetal position.
[sblock]Both of you need to Defy Danger (Wis) and lets see where this goes. The figures are at Reach range in the center of the debris field of the obliterated lean-to.[/sblock]