D&D 5E The Rhyot Break - Chapter One: Endless White



@Kobold Stew - Shan Whey - Male Halforc Bard​

The lonely halforc exhaled a misty cold breath and stood still for a moment. He would be forgiven for considering himself cursed, given the current predicament. Actually, the thought wasn't so ridiculous given the circumstances and what he'd seen during recent hours, perhaps bleeding into days. A good thing that the curdle of interracial blood and his unusual profession meant that Shan Whey... would not be one to admit defeat. Not here. Not like this.

Far away on the northern coasts of Solov Isle, people were waiting for this rough-around-the-edges, tough yet generally kind, man to come home. He wondered what the Miller family might be up to right this moment? Cilov town thus far, had not suffered the afflictions of the more southern villages and settled lands. The Korrud hadn't yet got their greedy fingers into the peaceful farming community. Oh, the time would come no doubt, as the imposters swept northwards to take everything as their own. But for now, the Millers were likely safe... the Millers that were left that is.

Shan reached a hand into his pocket, and yet again ran his fingers around a tooth. Yes, the tooth of a human man.

* * *​

With the firm thud of an oversized boot's sole against timber planking, the wood splintered, sending small slithers flying in all manner of directions. A second well-placed impact, and the trapdoor had all but been obliterated. Behind him and leaking warm flickering light, the hearth seemed to flare for a moment, as a cool rush of air brushed over him from below. The flames were fueled by air. His heart was fueled by rage. Rage painted in colors of unrequited love, a complex anger that had been sucking at him, determined as a leech, for well over a year.

He was down there somewhere. The liar and adulterer. The undeserving. The one soon to receive a lesson he'd not soon forget!

In truth, the victim of this altercation did soon forget. Arolakos Miller was stood behind a table when Shan had burst like a towering wave of hatred, down the ramshackle steps and into the room. Getting some help from a few friends, and entrusting several of Cilov's more "shady" folk had really sped things up. This was where Arolakos did his dodgy deals. Gold coins were neatly stacked in coins upon the desk, placed centered in a room which was possibly once a cellar. Shan's victim was a bastard of bastard's if ever there was one. Back home, his wife and children lived on the poverty-line, hand-to-mouth, laboring on farms and subsisting as best they could. The perfect front for a launderer and manipulator.

"Hey!" Arolakos had called out in shock.

Like a rolling boulder, the halforc had come smashing across the table, hand reaching for the elderly human's throat, the other smashing firmly against Miller's skull. Memories, life and teeth were lost as one, as Arolakos's form slid bloody and beaten to the floor.

* * *​

Shan awoke with a jolt, wiping beads of cold sweat from his brow. So much for a moment's rest.

To be continued...

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Kobold Stew

Last Guy in the Airlock
The cave walls offered some shelter to Shan, as he rubbed his coarse fingers together in his pockets. He thinks of her hand, lingering still in his post-dream memory but fading quickly, which are not rough like his, but smooth so smooth.

He squints against the cold, and prepares to move on, pushing himself to his feet with his back against a wall. He exhales, and feels his breath condense into frost on his beard. He wishes he had an apple with him.


Faenela watched Bria for a long moment once she was done explaining what she wanted to do with the Kobolds. As always, he didn't say anything, but she did however nod, once. While it didn't say all that much, it still conveyed that she'd do whatever Bria wanted: as far as she was concerned, she was free and alive because of Bria, so she'd do whatever she could to repay that debt. Even if she'd prefer doing it with real clothes. And shoes...

When asked if she had ever faced Kobolds, the elf briefly shook her head. In fact, outside of what had happened since they had fled the mine, she had never fought anyone. She didn't look particularly confident about being able to be stealthy though. Despite that, maybe because - or despite - her frozen feet, she ended up walking in the caves without producing a sound, barely more than the occasional whisper to cast her Prestidigitation spells to keep herself warm.

She didn't look comfortable - at all - leaving any of the men behind, and in fact often looked over her shoulder to make sure that they weren't too close to her but she didn't complain. She stopped a few meters away from the door while Bria tried to pick the lock. She barely looked at what the human woman was doing, but shook her head when they were asked if anyone would try where she had failed: picking locks was definitely not something she could do, and she didn't know a spell for it. Though... well, she might have an idea, but she'd let the others try before she took the risk.



the magical equivalent to the number zero
Welkin shakes his head with a little apologetic smile when Bria asks if anyone else has some skill with picking locks - the tiefling may be a scoundrel, but he never needed to open locked doors.

"If noone else is willing to try, I could get the kobolds to open the door themselves," he whispers with some glee, "But that would certainly ruin our chances of catching them unaware. Likewise if we try another way, because I suspect the buggers keep an eye out on the tunnels."

Steve Gorak

Gimlack signals to Rorik to come closer. He then looks around for the biggest big rock they can lift, and signals him to help him picks it up. He then says "As my grandfather used to say, if you can't be subtle, break it!". He proceeds to the door, and it is obvisous that the intent is to bash it. If it seems to work, he'll continue until it is damaed enough to open.

OOC: I am assuming an athletics check. He'll take all the time that is necessary to maximize his chances, and I am assuming that his Rorik will be helping, so I'll include an advantge roll in case that applies [roll0], advantage [roll]ad20+5[/roll]


the magical equivalent to the number zero
Noting the intention of Gimlack and Rorik, Welkin moves aside to let the two start whacking.

"Careful," he whispers to the others just before the rock hits the door, "The kobolds will react swiftly. We must be ready."

With that, the tiefling finds a slight inclination in the tunnel where it's a bit darker, and after muttering a few arcane phrases, a waist-high shadowy wall seems to appear, effectively obscuring him from casual glances.

OOC: Casting Minor Illusion to create a dark wall to hide behind.


Faenela was about to step to the door when Gimlack took things in his own hand, with the only kind of subtlety he was able to go with: none. She winced and almost curled up when the stone hit the door, and stepped back out of the way. While she tried to keep an eye on the front, she seemed much more worried with anything coming at them from behind, especially considering her position at the moment.


First Post
Zemryn had been quiet, lurking in the dark...or had she been muttering under her breath? A prayer perhaps, a sing-song sequence of Elvish words that tumbled out one after the other.

"Atemi aid me. Atemi steer me. Blood for blood, steel on steel, prayers said with words that bite deep and long."

She nodded, partly to herself and partly to her companions. Her eyes seemed wild, perhaps with madness, or was it determination? Then she began to stride forward, slowly at first but then faster and faster. "My goddess will aid us!"

Putting a shoulder down, she launched her small frame at the door with a reckless abandon borne from years of captivity and pain.

Athletics check: d20+3=19 (I used the TKP Rolz account)

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