D&D 5E (2014) [D&D 5e] Planescape - In Through the Out Door

[goatunit]

"Oh, well hi there," Eurid says to the white glove that reaches out to him. "Reckon that's our ghost again, oi?"

He shakes the hand, glancing around in the air ahead for other signs of the spirit. When Shard distracts him with news of the rabble, he turns to have a look himself.

"Xaosmen, I wager. Or mayhap just a dogpack o' scraggers."

He thinks a moment, still shaking the near-incorporeal gloved hand.

"Oi, ghost," he says softly, elbowing the air at his side as though nudging an old friend. "See them berks there, looking to ambush us poor poxied bubbers? Howsabout you make with the spooky bit and clear a path, yeah?"

 

[CanadienneBacon]

[section]Pleased that Eurid was comfortable with his presence, Picayune eyed the troupe of colorful brigands barricading the entry to the Jilted Planes. He peered at the clowns for a long moment, trying to discern which was their leader. When none seemed to present himself to Picayune's taste, the effigy gave an internal shrug, not really minding who his next victim was. He zoomed within 5' of the door to the tavern and whispered with a lover's caress in the nearest clown's ear, "Five nights now, I be hiding where yous kip. I knows. Dat you knifed dat man. Dem guards after you. Dey comin'. Fire be comin' for yous, make you her slave. Burn, beloved, burn. You bones be cracked, an' dogs lick yous marrow. Crows scavenge you eyes, pick at yous junk. You run now, 'less dey catch yous." Satisfied with his performance, Picayune cackled and waited gleefully for the clown's reaction.[/section]
[sblock=OOC]Wisdom (Perception) 1d20 +6 = 7. Casting dissonant whispers, pp 234, on whichever clown is closest to the door of the Jilted Planes: a creature within 60' must make a Wisdom saving throw DC 12. On a failed save, the creature suffers 3d6 psychic damage and must immediately use its reaction, if available, to move as far as its speed allows away from you. On a successful save, the target takes half as much damage and doesn't have to move away. A deafened creature automatically succeeds on the save. [/sblock]

 

[Unsung]

A band of [roll0] merry tricksters bars the way forward.

The trickster with the wooden crown is beset by a voice only he can hear. A disturbing rictus grin spreads across his pockmarked face (DC 12 Wisdom saving throw: [roll1]).

 

[Unsung]

One of the clowns suddenly shrieks wildly and whips off down the street. A number of wooden balls, brightly coloured scarves, and a bowling pin land in the spot where he was standing. His fellows turn and watch him go.

"?!?" A short, round woman-- wearing no less than eight masks, little else, and none of them on her face-- calls after him, as he hurtles up the side street, tearing his clothes off and ululating. "...eht Si slLeh YmiR erEhw Gniog nI!!?" she shouts.

She, and the other clowns, have stopped their frolics. They look at each other, a little uncertainly.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

[roll0]

 

[Unsung]

The stricken man clutches his head as he goes. He staggers sideways into a brick wall, and rolls around against it. He's still yelling.

"Hey! Pipe down out there!" You can hear the screeching voice from all the way back up the street. An upper story window opens its shutters. Rather than the shrewish older woman who might be traditional in such circumstances, a huge vulture-headed vrock expands out of the tiny window like a jack in the box. The demon is still armed with the time-honoured flowerpot, however, complete with the requisite sad daisy, which it lines up to pitch at the man's skull.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

[section]Picayune smirked at the mummer gone wild. The bird-man monster with the flower pot was weird, all right, but the effigy had had too many pots thrown at him to bother coming to the mummer's aid. He returned his attention to the congregation of clowns barring the way to the Jilted Planes, and singled out the woman wearing the eight masks. Lookie loo, she dey leader, I's tinkin'. He waited a beat to see whether the clowns moved away, then projected a soft whisper into the woman's mind. The guards is coming. Too much ruckus down here, and dese foreign folk makin' trouble. You best be movin' on somewhere else. Dat Temple, mebbe...folk got coin over there.[/section]
[sblock=OOC]Casting message at the woman wearing the eight masks and little else. And hoping like hell she takes the hint and moves her merry band of brigands elsewhere. [/sblock]

 

[Unsung]

The woman looks around peerily, the masks hanging from her head clattering as her head turns this way and that. She narrows her eyes. (Wisdom (Insight) check: [roll0].)

OOC: Picayune, I think that calls for an opposed Deception check in her case.

A crash of broken crockery can be heard, further up the street.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

[roll0]

 

[KirayaTiDrekan]

OOC: Do any of the mask-woman's masks look like Rusty's face?