#pathfinder: sailing on the winds of change

[missdurianne]

what if you take the pcs in your pathfinder game and you smashed them together fusion style. isnt that fun

Oberon = Marjory x Oisin (@lesbianesques)

Despite their stony (lol) demeanor they do laugh and smile a lot

Talks to themselves constantly. Sometimes will just laugh out loud at a joke they said to themselves.

Marjory's white marking seem to be replaced by some sort of stone.

Oberon pretty much floats everywhere. Her wings can move and articulate but they’re all made of stone. She moves them with ▇▇▇▇.

Little flowers bud and bloom in the gaps of Oberon’s stone parts. It’s cute until they get crushed, but this makes her smell very floral

Perdix = Marjory x Deirbhile (@combatcrocs)

surprisingly quiet and steely

constantly taking notes in cipher

Marjory's white markings are replaced with alchemial pools.

can produce appendages from any of her alchemial pools on her body but the scale seems to be tied to location [her tail pool can really only make another tiny tail. Or I guess a little hand to wave]

smells like cinnamon

Strix = Deirbhile x Leofwine

Viktory = Vitya x Nico

Imogen = (Marjory x Luckypants (@oleandy)

sort of creepy

can’t tell what they’re looking at at any time

nobody really likes talking to them

quietly helpful (“where’s my water b-AHHHH oh. Imogen. Thank you”)

Marjory's white markings seem to be replaced by flowers and negative space.

you couldn’t design a better daughter

#duri art #marjory of the forest #deirbhile #oisin #luckypants #pathfinder: sailing on the winds of change

[forgottenlunarium]

Quick one hour sketch of a newly discovered locale in our Pathfinder campaign- the Screaming Dunes!

Far below the golden lands of Aurínellir, within the dream-tangled morass of the Deep Abyss, the Screaming Dunes lie at the heart of the Realm of Dust. Taking up the entirety of a single titanic cavern, dunes of arcane sand slowly churn like waves at sea, whipped along by hurricane force winds. Sandstorms- fast enough to shred steel and flense flesh from bone- roil in predictable patterns through the cavern, each successive storm changing the dunes forever. However, life in the Abyss is nothing if not adaptable. The aethapirs, masters of engineering and light magic, have forged aetheric flotillas of light-powered ships, sailing above the blazing heats of the sands, forever evading the storms. Though these fleets often fall prey to monstrous wyverns which nest in the gloom of the cavern's roof, the aethapirs see such adversity as nothing less than a divine challenge- to survive in a place as inhospitable as the Screaming Dunes is to find spiritual peace. The Fire Trolls, formed from the volcanic blood of Firequeen Volsfyrsamar, have also found a home in the dunes, hunting the titanic beasts that dwell beneath the sands. In Fire Troll culture, after all, an individual's value is measured in the trophies of the beasts the individual has hunted- and so it is that glory hunters flock to hunt the deadly sand sharks and bore worms of the Dunes. Rumours abound that something more than mere sword-toothed monsters dwell beneath the sand. Fleeting sightings of stoneworks spotted in the shadowed nadirs of the tallest dunes arouse curiosity across the Abyss, as storytellers speak of forgotten vestiges of an era of light and abundance. Even now, in this time of prophecy, there are many who brave the Dunes in search of fabled treasure, heeding not the warnings of the skybound aethapirs- to disturb what lies beneath the sands is to invite doom on all...

#art #my art #digital art #dnd #artists on tumblr #worldbuilding #pathfinder #dms guild #dungeon master #artist on tumblr #sand #sand shark #imaginary worlds #aurinellir

[mischievouswritingblog]

A Twist of Fate

I’ve been wanting to continue or revamp this fic for a long time but at the moment I’m a bit stuck. Being that I’m working on a Pathfinder 2e Campaign based on World of Warcraft, I ended up thinking about this fic a lot and I decided to reshare it.

Here’s the first chapter and a link to the fic on AO3. It’s a long one, be warned.

-o-o-o-o-o- Chapter 1: Lucky Number 13     A rough jolt from the wagon shook Khadgar awake. He blinked a few times before he looked up at the night sky. How long had he slept? 

“Hey spell-chucker, is the cargo alright back there?” the dwarven driver called back to him. “I didn’t give ya a discount outta the goodness of me heart!”

Khadgar was squished between large sacks of potatoes and a crate holding bottles of ale. It was uncomfortable, the scratchy burlap of the potato sacks rubbed against exposed skin. The wooden create gave him no room to adjust himself. He did his best to look over the other various bits and bobs of cargo. “Nothing seems damaged, sir.” 

“Good, keep it that way!” the driver ordered. “I’m gonna pick up the pace!” He swung his whip and cracked it loudly. 

“Please don’t!” Khadgar’s body roughly jerked as the wagon sped up. Desperately he clung to its side as his frightened scream echoed out into the night. 

Deadwind Pass had earned its name for good reason. Its paths and trails winded through thick trees and along the faces of steep cliffs. It was all too easy for travelers whether on foot or carriage to fall to their doom into rushing rivers far below. Had Khadgar not hitched a ride with a traveling merchant who was familiar with the area, it would have been his own fate. 

Yet humans were a stubborn species, people still found a way to populate the area. To Khadgar’s surprise, he would spot the occasional house or two nestled among the greenery. Just how they could stand being surrounded by such dangerous heights was beyond him. Even crossing the simple stone bridges made the young mage’s stomach do flips. 

“Look alive, kid!” said the driver of the wagon, his sudden bark made Khadgar jump. “We’re gettin’ close to Karazhan.” 

The wagon rattled along the road as it made its way around a bend. It tilted dangerously close to toppling over the edge but slammed back down onto the road. The cargo and passenger were jostled but miraculously everything managed to stay intact. Khadgar was treated to a good view of one of Azeroth's moons. But his admiration didn’t last long, as his eyes were drawn to something else. Standing above the rock formations and thick wilds of Deadwind was a tower. Bathed in moonlight, it gave off a haunting presence. A proud monolith that stood above everything else, it felt as though Khadgar were being watched by it. A number of lit windows were sign that there was life in the tower. 

Khadgar jumped when the wagon hit a bump that shook the entire thing. He held his satchel to his chest as though it could do more than barely shield him. It had been a long and rough trip. Khadgar had at first thought the worst was behind him after having to sail Menethil Harbor (his fear of deep water did him no favors). Only to find that there was still a long way to go, trekking through wetlands and on the road until he could hitch a ride with caravans kind enough to take on a fledgling ‘spell chucker’. Not to mention the drastic changes in climates, from the mild weather of Lordaeron to the bitter chill of Dun Morogh, to the heat of the southern lands of Stormwind. 

It was difficult and there were plenty of times where Khadgar wished he could turn back. But that wasn’t an option for him. He had no means of going back home, certainly not enough money. The trip down the continent was dangerous enough as it was. No, he couldn’t go back, he needed to be accepted or…

The sound of rattling drew Khadgar’s eyes to the bottles of ale. His eyes grew wide as he watched the valuable cargo begin to bubble within. Khadgar reached out to stop it but a small static-like zap of arcane energy made him pull his hand away. The young mage scooted away from the crate and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Stop it, Khadgar...” he whispered to himself. Khadgar took a deep breath through his nose and released it as a sigh. “You need to calm down.” 

“Here’s where ye get off, kid!” the driver said as the wagon began to slow down. 

It wasn’t long before they came to a full halt. Khadgar looked up at the driver, thankful that he could leave before anything exploded. He snatched up his satchel and climbed out of the cart. Khadgar thanked the driver as he pulled out a coin purse and paid a few coins of what little money he had left. 

The dwarf driver counted the coins before pocketing them. “Now listen, jus’ keep following the road and ye will wind up right in Karazhan. It’s jus’ a little ways from here so ye should make it there before it gets too late. Keep a good pace, nasty things prowl in these parts at night.”

Khadgar looked out at the road ahead of him, he gripped the leather strap of his satchel before he began to walk. Luckily the area wasn’t completely dark. a small mining station by the mouth of a cave provided a little light. It was A small comfort but not enough for Khadgar to relax. He was still far away from the only home he had ever known.

Admittedly, it was his own fault.

Curiosity was considered both a valuable trait and horrible vice of magi. It was what spurred them to learn and experiment with the magical arts, to push the boundaries of what was possible. Of course, there were also downsides, mages that pushed ethics aside just to see what would happen. It urged some to see if they could bind and control fantastic beasts or even raise the dead. Such attempts never ended well.

Khadgar attempted no such things, he followed most of the rules placed upon him by the Kirin Tor. Laws and regulations were engraved into him at a young age, like the brand of the violet eye on his left arm. The problem with Khadgar was that he was born with curiosity that had an insatiable appetite. Often he'd find trouble searching for the truth behind rumors or peeking at restricted areas or tomes. 

Most students would focus their hunger for knowledge to texts and study. Khadgar would experiment with ways to make his snooping easier. He designed tools like a mechanical cricket that would chirp to warn him of powerful magics and wards. He also designed a small spell to enhance his hearing. Picking locks and undoing seals were a hobby to him like crossword puzzles were to others. There were many nighttime ventures around the Violet Citadel. Hunting for anything that would feed his gluttonous curiosity. It was how Khadgar found quite a few dirty little secrets that the Kirin Tor wanted kept quiet. 

Many were harmless, perhaps a little embarrassing, like the Chief Artificer’s weakness for flamewine. Others were more far more scandalous and could tarnish a reputation. Like Korrigan, the Violet Citadel's librarian, and his fascination with demon worshipers and their practices. Or Lady Delth and her fondness for young men a mere fraction of her age. 

Given Lady Delth’s status (both marriage and society wise), Khadgar suspected it was his stumbling onto one of her affairs that was the last straw. The next thing he knew, Khadgar was suddenly selected for a ‘great honor’. He was to go to a place called Karazhan, to learn under ‘The Great Magus Medivh’. Not that Khadgar had ever heard of such a mage.

Doing a little digging he learned that ‘Medivh Aran’ was a hedge-mage, that on its own was incredibly strange. Such magi suffered from a lack of discipline and restraint when not watched by the violet eye of the Kirin Tor. Usually, they would always meet some grisly demise brought by their own hubris. Stories of rogue wizards bringing castles down upon themselves or blowing themselves to bits were a staple in classes of young mages-to-be. The moral of such tales always the same: ‘Never go out on your own, never take the guidance of the Kirin Tor for granted.’

Yet Medivh was an anomaly. He was the very thing the Kirin Tor frowned upon but they appeared to respect the man. So why was there so little information about the magus? There were scraps and bits that Khadgar tried to cobble together into a cohesive picture. 

In one text Medivh was credited for simplifying many complex spells (the names of which were missing). There was also a letter that noted the magus had observed a fascinating phenomenon in the stars. Other bits and pieces Khadgar managed to find were filled with a mishmash of claims that clashed horribly. There was mention of Medivh being a skilled engineer, one professor said that he studied exotic animals, and in one note the magus was called a ‘patron of the arts’. Generous, selfish, kind, cruel, genius, half mad, difficult taskmaster, a man that just didn’t give a damn, all these used to describe Medivh. None of it made a lick of sense.

It was aggravating since it only served to fuel Khadgar’s hungry curiosity even more.

Upon reaching the land where the tower stood Khadgar was surprised to see that there was a village surrounding the base. He could see a number of Houses, an inn, a marketplace, and a small church. It was a strange place for a village, hidden away by the surrounding woods and mountains. Almost as though it were dropped there by some spell went awry. Perhaps it was. 

Khadgar could feel something strange in the air. A presence that made the hairs of the back of his neck stand on end. There was a lot of magic in the land itself, he could feel it flowing through the earth under his feet. If Khadgar stood and focused, he felt energies coursing in the ground beneath his feet. It was like many surging rivers meeting at and flowing from that point. 

But it wasn’t the time to focus on such things. As Khadgar walked through the streets and towards the tower, he opened his satchel and pulled out his letter of introduction. The purple wax seal of the violet eye stared back at him. Like him, the letter had reached its destination, it felt heavy, perhaps more so than the day it was handed to him. It felt like he was holding his own future in his hands. In a sense, he very well was and that was terrifying. 

A small sound suddenly caught Khadgar’s attention, his gaze was drawn to the window of a nearby house. His eyes widened as he saw the glass of the window was cracking. Khadgar felt his stomach twist into a knot before picking up his pace, mentally begging his magic stay in control. He couldn’t afford to his magic lash out, not now of all times. Khadgar tried to calm himself by taking in deep breaths but it was all too soon that he found himself standing before the main doors of the tower. 

Khadgar felt his heart pounding harder in his rib cage as he stared up at the large, imposing building before him. In the dark of the night, it looked almost sinister, even the moon that hung high in the sky felt like it was judging him. It was getting harder to breathe as his chest felt tighter with each passing second. Khadgar swallowed trying to force his emotions down as he raised a shaky hand to knock on the large wooden door. 

A loud explosion shook the tower from far above. Khadgar looked up just in time to see falling, shattered glass heading right for him. The young mage scrambled to get out of the way and managed to do so just in time. Sharp pieces of colored glass rained down right where he had been standing. Had he not moved when he did Khadgar would have ended up a bloodied mess. 

“What in light’s name was that…?” Khadgar thought aloud, a bit shaken. He looked up and saw smoke flowing out from one of the windows of the tower. He could have sworn he heard the distant sound of someone yelling obscenities. 

The door of the tower then opened with a loud groan and squeak of its hinges. Khadgar looked and found himself staring at a tall, slender gentleman that reminded him a little of a weasel. The man’s hair was dark brown, reaching just above his shoulders and well kept. He was dressed in fine red and black suit. But the detail that took away from his immaculate appearance was that he was wearing horse’s blinders. 

Khadgar watched as the man who had brought a broom and dustpan began to clean up the glass. It was then he found his voice and spoke up. “U-um, e-excuse me, sir…?” 

At first, the man in red didn’t respond. It was after another attempt of Khadgar trying to get his attention he looked up at him. His eyes scanned over the youth, his face was a mask of pure of boredom. It was hard to tell what he was thinking as he looked the mageling over. The man then made the slightest frown before he finally spoke. “I take it you have business here?” 

Khadgar caught himself staring and scrambled to hand the man his letter of introduction. “Khadgar.” 

The man in red gave a confused blink before he eyed the letter but made no move to take it. Instead, he looked up at the boy with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Of Dalaran.” Khadgar abruptly continued. “Khadgar of Dalaran, in the Kingdom of Lordaeron.” His face grew hot the more he talked. Words surged forward like a broken faucet. “I was sent by the Kirin Tor. In the Violet Citadel. In Dalaran. In Lordaeron.” The mageling's voice went higher in pitch with each sentence as embarrassment engulfed him. 

“I see...” the man in red said before the slightest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, Khadgar of the Kirin Tor, in the Violet Citadel, in Dalaran, in Lordaeron, I am Moroes. I’m the tower steward and Castellan of Karazhan.” 

“Castellan…?” Khadgar blinked and looked around at the town surrounding the tower. “That’s like a governor, isn’t it?” 

“Hmm, awfully astute of you...” Moroes said in a mild sarcastic tone. He then set the dustpan and broom aside and clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, Master Medivh owns the tower and the land surrounding it. It’s my job to keep things in ship shape and running while he performs his duties.” 

Khadgar blinked, his eyes widened a little. “Is the magus a nobleman?” 

Moroes gave a small shrug. “He is, but the most the Master calls himself is an ‘over glorified landlord’.”

“I-I see...” Khadgar said. “M-may I meet with him?”

Moroes he reached into his pocket and took out a pocket watch. With a click, it opened and he looked at the time. “Hmm, it’s not ungodly late yet, I suppose it should be fine.” Moroes snapped the watch closed and slipped it in his pocket. “Perhaps a visitor will put him off working on that mechanical monstrosity late into the night.” 

Khadgar eyes were drawn up towards the broken window far above. He couldn’t help but wonder about the explosion from earlier. A loud clearing of the throat brought his attention back to Moroes, who was waiting for him in the doorway. 

“Did you want to come in or do you wish to sleep under the stars tonight?” asked the Castellan, his voice never losing its ‘ho-hum’ tone. 

Khadgar jumped slightly then followed him through the door. With his first step inside the tower, Khadgar felt goosebumps rise from his skin. There was an odd presence to his new surroundings, time itself felt strange as if it slowed for a moment. 

Khadgar followed Moroes while allowing his eyes to drink in every detail they could. He saw carvings of horses that lined the higher parts of the walls that led to the entrance of what appeared to be stables. A loud clearing of the throat from Moroes urged Khadgar to hurry his pace. They passed through a crafted stone archway; Khadgar's boots thumped heavily against marble stairs that led to a ballroom. 

“Master Medivh is up in his study, we’ll be taking the servants’ shortcuts to get there in quicker time.” Moroes explained as he looked over his shoulder to Khadgar. “So please try to keep up, the last thing you’d want is to get lost here.” 

“Yes, sir!” Khadgar said while walking faster. 

Keeping up with Moroes was easier said than done. As soon as the pair slipped into the servants’ passageways the Castellan moved at a brisk pace. Khadgar was surprised such a lanky looking man could move so gracefully. The man glided across the floor like a specter, his movements fluid and soundless. 

The servants’ passages were hidden and had no windows. After all, nobody wanted to see servants; perhaps nobody wanted to see the young mage either. The walls around them were winding and terribly narrow, claustrophobic. Khadgar followed Moroes around corners and up and down stairs. The layout of the passageways made no sense; it shouldn’t have been possible. It left Khadgar feeling disoriented. At one point he lost sight of the lanky man. Khadgar’s gut twisted in a panic until he spied the flick of a coattail from around a corner. With a sprint, he desperately tried to catch up. It almost seemed the Castellan was secretly trying to lose him. To leave the young mage lost and left to wander in a maze until his death. 

The horrifying thought was cut short when Khadgar rammed into Moroes’ back. He stumbled back a bit and saw the Castellan was waiting for him next to a door. 

Moroes dusted himself off before opening the door. “This way.” 

Khadgar hurried out of the passageway and was greeted by the sight of a balcony. He walked towards the railing and his eyes grew wide at the sight of an incredible library down below. Its size shouldn’t have been possible yet there it was. There were different levels with walls lined with bookshelves. Large tapestries that hung between windows emblazoned with fantastic beasts and mythic figures. The floors were decorated with an elegant pattern of star-like shapes and circles. Looking up Khadgar saw more balconies and bridges that led to a number of rooms and different sections. He felt a strong urge to go see what was up there but he had to reign his curiosity in, he needed to focus. 

Moroes led Khadgar to another, more discreet door, opened it and allowed the young mage inside. “This is Master Medivh’s personal study, pardon the mess.” 

The study had two levels to it, an upper level that had a display of a number of planets that surrounded a gigantic, moving astrolabe. Khadgar stared at it in awe before his gaze moved upward to thousands of small, glittering lights that floated above the display. His jaw fell slack when he realized that it was a map of the stars. Khadgar had never seen anything like it in Dalaran, not even in the Violet Citadel. 

“Close your mouth, you’re not a codfish.” Moroes chided while continuing ahead. 

Khadgar followed Moroes down into the lower level of the study. It certainly looked much more ‘lived in’ compared to the upper level. While still beautiful with the continued motif stars and planets it was much less tidy. The young mage noticed various books stacked about on tables, shelves, and even the floor. Khadgar’s keen eye caught some of the titles. While there were texts on magic and science, they were mixed in with fiction books. He recognized titles of adventure novels, dramas, romance and...erotica. There was a shameless collection of smutty books that were kept together in their own little area of the study. 

“An...avid reader, I take it?” Khadgar asked before he looked at Moroes, not wanting to lose the man. 

“Yes, of various things.” Moroes said as he continued to lead the boy through the room. 

There were other details stood out to Khadgar. On one table was a chess set, next to it were playing cards, dice and hearthstone board that was left half open. There was a large, comfortable looking couch that obviously served as a bed. On it rested a plush animal, some sort of black bird. It looked soft, large enough that it could serve as a pillow, and well loved. An item of comfort from a time when life was much more simple. Khadgar had a favorite plush when he was a child as well. Though his was taken from him when his caregivers thought him too old to have such things. 

“Over here, young man.” Moroes stood before a large wooden door, he beckoned Khadgar over before turning to face it. “This door leads to the Master’s lab, he’s shut himself in here all evening.” 

Khadgar noticed that there were effigies of ravens carved into the door. Their eyes, that looked almost a little too real, felt like they were locked onto him. 

Moroes reached for the door’s latch but suddenly paused. His brow knit together in a small frown as he looked at it suspiciously. Raising his hand, Moroes pressed the back of his hand against the door. “Stand back...” 

“What? Why?” Khadgar asked as he took a few steps away. 

Moroes didn’t answer, instead he pulled a large handkerchief from his breast pocket and wrapped it around his hand. He took hold of the door’s handle and carefully pulled it open. From within the lab came the roar of flames and a wave of intense heat that made Khadgar reel back. 

It was like the door led straight into a dragon’s den. Khadgar threw his arm up to protect his eyes. The light within the room burned like hellfire, angry and ruthless. If he squinted, Khadgar could make out the silhouette of a man within the room. He blinked and winced at how his eyes ached, who could bare being in such heat? 

The flames from within the room started to die down. The cool air from the rest of the study was a much-needed relief. After a few blinks, Khadgar could finally see the man in the lab clearly. They were tall, dressed in a loose-fitting shirt, a pair of trousers, and oddly no shoes on his feet. Their long, raven hair was tied back into a messy tail and a pair of work goggles shielded his eyes. 

But what made Khadgar nervous was the fact the strange man was wielding a lit welding torch. It’s flame burned so bright that it hurt one’s eyes to look at it directly. The magical energy that radiated from it made Khadgar suspect that the tool was meant to imitate a dragon’s fire. 

The torch-wielding man looked up at the clockwork golem. “Curator, how are you holding up? Didn’t fry anything too badly, did I?” 

“Checking systems...” the golem spoke, much to Khadgar’s surprise. Its gears turned and the runes carved in its metal frame glowed dimly. “Language circuits received minor heat damage. Speech functions are still operational. However, the wrong blueberries may get used from time to butterscotch.” 

After the heat died down Moroes walked into the study, motioning for the fledgling mage to follow. With a loud 'hurrumph' he caught the man’s attention. Moroes then spoke in a stern, commanding tone that made Khadgar jump. “Master Medivh, you have a guest!” 

“Huh?” Medivh looked at them, his head canting in a bird-like way. “Oh!”

The magus set the blowtorch aside on a worktable. A number of burns and stains of dirt and sweat marred his clothing, it all smelled of oil and metal. Khadgar noticed that aside from the goggles and gloves, Medivh wasn’t wearing much else for protection at all. 

“None too scorched I hope...” Medivh pushed up his work goggles to rest atop his head. His eyes were forest green, dark circles under them was the telltale sign that the magus was lacking sleep. Yet his eyes still held a certain shine in them that contrasted to the rest of Medivh’s dirty face. 

“Not as bad as your gloves.” Moroes said while resting his hands on his hips. “Speaking of which, one of them is on fire.” 

“What?” Medivh looked at his work gloves and sure enough one of them had caught fire. Startled, the magus gasped before pulling the glove off and throwing it to the ground. “Gah! Damn it! You’d think ‘flame-resistant gloves’ would do as the name implies and actually resist flames!” 

The golem, or ‘curator’ as Medivh called it, moved its arm in a convulsive motion and pointed it at the magus. With a loud ‘clang’ a nozzle popped out of a compartment in its wrist. “Fire threat detected. Extinguishing.” 

Medivh looked at the curator and threw up his hands in a poor attempt to shield himself. “Wait, stop! No! No! N--” 

Lines on the curator’s frame began to glow. Much like a mage, it gathered moisture from the air, converted it into water and sprayed its master. The fire was put out but Medivh had been thrown right off his feet. 

“The fire has been extinguished.” the curator announced, sounding rather pleased with itself. “Master Medivh is safe.” 

Medivh was sprawled out on the floor. With an effort he sat himself up and coughed, spitting up some water. “Yes, you saved me.” Medivh said before coughing once more. “You’ve earned yourself a rest, take a nap Curator.” 

“Understood, entering ‘sleep mode’. Goodnight.” the curator announced. It slumped forward before its gears stopped turning and became little more than a clockwork statue. 

“Shall I go fetch Doc?” Moroes asked. 

“No, no, I’m fine. All that’s hurt is my pride.” Medivh said with a raised hand to wave the offer off. Carefully, he climbed back onto his feet and looked down at his soaked clothing. “A towel would be nice though.” 

“That and some dry clothes.” Moroes added before marching towards a wardrobe. “You’ll catch your death gallivanting around like that.” 

“Yes, yes, Mother Hen.” Medivh rolled his eyes before taking hold of his long, dark hair and wrung out the water. Without another word, he begun to undress, not caring that a stranger was in the room watching him. 

Khadgar stood flabbergasted, his mouth agape while his face flushed at the boldness of this strange man. His eyes couldn’t look away while the magus shed his clothing, acting like the fledgling mage didn’t even exist. Khadgar's mind scrambled to put together the puzzle set before him. There was no way this was Medivh Aran. There had to be a mistake. Perhaps a large, elaborate joke at Khadgar's expense. This man was far too disorderly to command such respect from his fellow magi. 

Moroes returned with a towel and fresh set of clothes for his master. He glanced at Khadgar and saw the boy was gawking. With a roll of his eyes, Moroes reached over and gently lifted the boy’s chin and closed his mouth. “What did I tell you earlier? Stop impersonating a fish.” 

Medivh sauntered towards the pair. The young mage could feel himself being picked apart as the magus quietly studied him. His eyes came to an abrupt halt at the thick, white stripe in the boy’s hair. “Is that some sort of fashion trend?” 

Khadgar’s face flushed red before he covered the streak of white with his hand. Being teased for having a ‘skunk’s stripe’ since childhood had made him embarrassed about it. “No, sir.” 

“Who are you?” Medivh sniffed and wiped his nose before taking the towel Moroes offered him. He took a moment to wipe the oil and dirt from his face before drying himself off. 

“My name’s Khadgar, sir...” Khadgar spoke up. His eyes started to trail down the older mage’s body. 

If he had to guess, Medivh had to be in his early to mid-thirties which was young by mage standards. It was strange that the Kirin Tor would be so insistent that someone Medivh's age should take an apprentice. Khadgar couldn't stop himself from continuing to study the older man's body. Dare he think it, the magus wasn't unpleasant to look at. He couldn't deny that Medivh was attractive but what stood out the most was that his skin was marred with numerous scars. Some were old and fading while others looked much newer and eerily fresh. Many of them had a certain viciousness that couldn't have been from backfiring experiments. 

"Battle scars...?" Khadgar muttered to himself. His gaze continued to move even lower before his face flushed hotly as it blushed red. He immediately forced himself to look away. 

“And what business do you have with me?” Medivh asked while starting to redress himself. The young mage then shoved the letter of introduction at him almost hitting the magus in the chest. The wax seal of the violet eye stared back at Medivh, almost tauntingly so. A look of disgust spread across his face as if the boy just handed him a cockroach. 

“My name is Khadgar I’ve-” 

“Been sent by the Kirin Tor.” Medivh finished for him in a blunt drawl. Without another word, he plucked the envelope from Khadgar’s hand and walked towards the study’s fireplace. He gave the envelope a brief look before tossing it into the hungry flames. 

Khadgar made a loud, strangled whine that caught Medivh and Moroes off guard. The two watched as the boy turned deathly pale as his future went up in smoke. Lab equipment that sat on a nearby worktable began to rattle violently. One of the glass beakers was knocked off of it by an unseen force and shattered when it hit the ground. 

Medivh looked at the broken glass on the floor, then to the shattered window of his lab. He frowned as he quietly contemplated something before turning to face Moroes. “Is the boy ill?” 

“Perhaps worn out.” the Castellan said with a slight shrug. “We took some shortcuts and it may have left him a tad winded.” 

“Th-the letter!” Khadgar finally managed to form words. 

“What of it?” Medivh asked, his tone cold. “Oh, wait, let me guess what it says!” he cleared his throat before speaking gracefully but laced with sarcasm. “‘Great Magus Medivh, Lord of Karazhan, we send you greetings from the Kirin Tor, the magical authority of Dalaran, the adviser to kings, protectors, preservers, and teachers of the magical arts…blah, blah, blah, you get the gist, right? They always fluff up their own importance before getting to what they want.” 

“I-I wouldn’t know, I was told not to read it.” Khadgar said. 

“But you did, didn’t you?” Medivh challenged him, his eyes took on a slight glow. He looked dangerous, like a cat about to toy with a mouse. “Granted, I would too if I was sent all the way out here from Lordaeron,” Medivh smirked. “I’ll admit that you’re clever, I almost missed that the seal was tampered with.” 

Khadgar swallowed. “How did you know what it said though?” 

“Magic, of course!” Medivh said as a wolf-like grin flashed across his face. “As soon as I touched it the words just flowed into my brain.” 

“...Really?” Khadgar asked, a little uncertain. 

“Of course not, that’s just silly!” Medivh said before laughing. “No, the fact is, you’re not the first one the Kirin Tor has sent to me. I’ve read that damned letter plenty of times already.” 

Khadgar’s hand pressed against his stomach when he felt it twist, he felt sick. “H-how...How many have they sent…?” 

“Hmm, let’s see, you are...” Medivh made a show of looking thoughtful. “Oh my, you’re lucky number thirteen, fancy that!” 

Khadgar’s heart grew heavy and began to sink like a stone. He had no illusions that his sudden assignment was for his accomplishments as a student. But this felt cruel. “Th-thirteen…?” 

“Yes, so to commemorate the occasion we’ll avoid all the hassle your predecessors went through.” Medivh said as though it were a benevolent act. “I’m not ready to take on an apprentice and I want your masters to stop harassing me.” 

“N-no, wait, I-I…Y-you don't understand!” the words tumbled from Khadgar’s mouth as panic washed over him like a tidal wave. “Sir, please! I don’t have any means of going back!” 

“If you wasted your funds like an idiot, that’s your problem, not mine.” Medivh said while waving a hand, like shooing the issue away like a pesky fly. 

“I didn’t waste anything! I was barely given enough to get here!” Khadgar snapped, he felt power behind his words and a short gust of wind. He tried to reign himself in immediately but saw the wind had blown against the magus. 

Khadgar may as well had made an offending gesture at Medivh. The older mage glared at him, his green eyes became venomous. He called arcane power to one of his hands forming a crackling ball of violet light in his palm. Khadgar backed away but before the magus could throw it at him Moroes stepped in his path. 

“Medivh, calm yourself.” the Castellan drawled in a stern tone. He acted as though he weren’t in the way of a deadly spell. Perhaps he simply didn’t care, it was hard to tell since Moroes’ face was an aloof mask. He stood his ground and didn't flinch while Medivh scrambled to stop himself from striking the servant. “Are you really going to drench your hands with the blood of a child?” 

“It doesn’t help that the so-called 'child' is walking powder keg!” Medivh snapped while glaring at Moroes. Regardless, the Castellan stood firm and unfazed, he simply gave a firm stare of his own. A look that was reminiscent of a parent when they scolded an ornery brat. A silent minute passed before Medivh's eyes finally softened, his gaze shifted back to Khadgar. “You have a hard time controlling your emotions, don’t you?” 

Khadgar swallowed and broke eye contact. “...S-sometimes, sir. But I'm-” 

“And that can make for volatile magic." Medivh interrupted him. "Quite dangerous to yourself and others should you never learn to control yourself.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked cautiously curious. “Is that why they sent you to me? They thought I’d take you on as a challenge or something?” 

Khadgar huffed out an irritated sigh. “Maybe you would have known if you hadn’t burned the letter.” 

Medivh gave a befuddled blink. He looked like someone had slapped him in the face. Both mages caught the sound of a loud snort that escaped Moroes before he turned away from them. Khadgar noticed the servant trembling, he could have sworn he heard a small, stifled laugh. 

“I...I-I...Well, that’s!...Th-the letter...” Medivh’s retort died into silence. He eyed the fireplace while trying to think of an argument. A moment passed before the corner of Magus’ mouth twitched and formed into an amused smirk. “Huh, well I’ll be damned, you actually got me!" He broke out into a hearty laugh. It echoed throughout his lab and lifted the heavy tension with it like it were a mere feather. "You have a little bite to you! I admit it, I like that.” 

Khadgar felt a small swell of satisfaction in his chest, as petty as it might have been. 

Medivh's eyes searched the boy, looking for something Khadgar couldn't quite comprehend. Perhaps it was dishonesty. If that was the case then he had nothing to hide. “So, you claim the Kirin Tor have done you a huge disservice?” 

Khadgar blinked at the question, his hands began to fidget a little. “Well, surely it wasn’t on purpos-” 

“They said nothing of their other twelve attempts to push their people onto me.” Medivh interrupted him. “Furthermore, they sent you all the way to Stormwind with barely enough funds to get here. Is that correct?” He then snapped his fingers in rapid succession. “Come on, be quicker than that, a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will do.” 

“Y-yes, sir!” Khadgar answered abruptly. 

“These are serious accusations, boy.” Medivh said. His tone then shifted, sounding almost sympathetic. “Yet not all that surprising. You’re certainly the youngest they've sent to me. I wonder, what did you do that got under their skin?” 

“I...I don’t want to talk about that...” Khadgar said, looking away from the magus. 

“No need to then.” Medivh said while giving a small shrug. “But I suppose Moroes has a point. I'd rather not have your blood on my hands. Turning you away would be like killing you myself." Medivh lightly tapped his cheek with a finger and looked thoughtful. "I’m feeling a little generous today.” 

Khadgar looked up at Medivh hopefully. “Sir…?” 

“You could stay as one of the tower’s staff for a little while.” Medivh suggested. “Until you’ve earned enough money to safely return to Dalaran. That’s my offer to you, take it or leave it.” 

Khadgar chewed on his lower lip, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’ll take it, sir.” 

Medivh's eyes shined with mischief, their green color reminded Khadgar of poison. "Welcome to Karazhan." 

-o-o-End of Chapter 1-o-o-

I hope you enjoyed reading. If you’re interested in checking out the rest of the fic, it can be found here on AO3:

A Twist of Fate

#World of Warcraft #Warcraft #Medivh #Khadgar #RavenTrust #Dalaran #Kirin Tor

[dailycharacteroption]

Crashing Wave (Cleric Archetype)

(art by Tiuco on DeviantArt)

 Powerful and destructive, yet also gentle and life-nurturing, the ocean is something that has been revered and reviled since ancient times. In Pathfinder, while there are many deities of the ocean, few are more widespread and well-known that Gozreh, the deity of both wind and waves, having a different gender aspect for both.

Those priests who revere Gozreh in their female, watery aspect exclusively sometimes take the title of Crashing Wave, and are blessed not only by command over the water, but also by Gozreh’s nature as a creature of balance.

As we will see, this archetype is heavily tied to this specific deity, but in theory you could use it with any largely neutral ocean deity.

Regardless, this archetype is favored not just by coastal folk, but also by aquatic races as well!

 Naturally, without homebrewing, this archetype requires the cleric to be a worshipper of Gozreh. They do, however, learn how to speak the elemental tongue of water.

Rather than channel positive or negative energy in the traditional sense, these devotees instead channel an energy associated with balance, allowing them to heal at least partially neutral beings, or to harm foes that deviate too far from neutrality.

Finally, these clerics do not gain the ability to convert their spells into healing or harming. Instead, they convert their spells into an array of water-themed spells, everything from those that directly manipulate water for attack, defense, or utility, to water breathing, to transforming into a fluid state, or even summoning vast numbers of elementals to fight.

A simple archetype, but one that does change the utility of the cleric to be more about control and support than they are about healing, though they can still do that with the right party composition, but you’ll want to take the same care when channeling healing energy in a party with a lot of strong alignments as you would if there were a dhampir in the party with a standard goodly cleric.

 Since Gozreh is a neutral god, one can imagine that clerics of different neutral alignments might interpret their teachings differently. Goodly ones might spend most of their time providing soothing seas, but still bring down the wrath of the storm; while evil ones may seek to bring down suffering with their divine gifts. Lawful ones may seek to teach others how to live in harmony with the sea and master it, while the more chaotic may simply revel in the wild and unpredictable nature of the water.

  Ships that use the Whitetongue Cape as a shortcut had best take heed that a clan of grindylows lives in the waters there. Possessing a tradition of priests of the waves there, they often ambush passing ships using the very water against them.

 On moonless nights, the skum of Mephist Reef rise from the water and chant prayers to their god, a mindless brutal thing of wind and wave. During such nights, any encounter with sailing vessels is treated as a blasphemous invasion, the penalty of which is death.

 A hurricane lingers over the city of Mesha, literally holding the city hostage, for this is no ordinary storm. Indeed, the storm is the work of a wicked and powerful crashing wave cleric using the forces of nature to punish the people for some slight.

#pathfinder #archetype #cleric #crashing wave #grindylow #skum #Blood of the Sea

[second-chance-stray]

Cravendy Hound

Dying is easy. Living is hard.

After slumbering for over a year, Cravendy wakes up to a new world. Now, she takes it one day at a time as she repays a debt long due.

The Basics —

Full name: "Cravendy Hound” (Real name unknown)

Carrd: https://cravendy-hound.carrd.co/

Age: 27

Race: Roegadyn / Sea Wolf

Gender: Female

Occupation: Mercenary

Family: Unknown

Alignment: Neutral Good

Sexuality: Bisexual

Marital Status: Single

Server: Balmung

Physical Appearance —

Hair: Thick, dark green mess that juts out like tree branches.

Eyes: Cobalt blue eyes

Body: Average for a Roegadyn, which means she’s very, very tall. Muscular, with a defined upper body. Light green skin.

Accent: Gruff. Pirate’s accent. But underneath it all, a silvery voice that’s soft around the edges. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNYOiFoJ0IE)

Distinguishing Marks: Perpetually scowling. Tiny blue flowers are woven into her braid.

Personal —

Profession: Ex-pirate turned mercenary.

Hobbies: Drinkin’ herself silly, revelry! Freak for guns. Fishing, knot tying, sailing. Secretly loves sweets. Sings in private.

Languages: Eorzean

Residence: Gridania

Birthplace: Northern Empty

Fears: Leviathan, sahagin. Other pirates. Being restrained.

Vices/Vulnerabilities: Recent events have left her with very low confidence. Tries to keep to herself and protect others, which leads to her overburdening herself...And then when things become too much to bear, she tends to snap under pressure.

Personality: Like an older sister who gives nothing but tough love. Isn’t afraid of speaking her mind and tossing out insults, crude jokes, blunt criticisms. Stand-offish at first, but is secretly a huge softie underneath all of her thorns. Actually very easy to fluster and tease.

Relationships —

Spouse: It’s complicated.

Children: N/A

Parents: Unknown

Siblings: Unknown

Other Relatives: Unknown.

Pets: None

Traits —

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information —

Smoking Habit: Nope

Drugs: Nope

Alcohol: Someone call alcoholics anonymous

RP Hooks —

Master Gunner...was her role in her old pirate crew! Want to learn how to shoot in style? Or how to fire a cannon, to tie a fisherman’s knot, to read the winds, to rig a sail? Cravendy could teach you, at the right price.

Raging Alcoholic. Cravendy can’t shake off years and years of hard drinking. So you’re likely to find her racking up a huge tab at the local pub. She has a tendency to open up once she’s drunk.

Secret Sweet Tooth. Her addiction to sweets is a recent development, and one that she’s clearly embarrassed about. You might catch her in disguise, sneaking into a cafe to snack on cakes and candies. What’s with all the secrecy? And why is her disguise so terrible? It’s obviously her.

Mercenary for hire. Her purse is empty, which means that it’s time to earn pocketful of change working as a mercenary. Which is often, since her spending habits are (frankly) reckless.

Don’t feel limited to these hooks, and feel free to reach out to me with your ideas.

Other Information —

Eyo! I'm Nutley. I've been roleplaying on and off for the past 10 years. Nowadays, I'm a game master for DnD and Pathfinder, and have been roleplaying in FF14 for about 2 years now! Anything goes - I'm eager to share stories!

OOC banter and trust is important to me. I always prioritize the human behind the character, and part of that is (very slowly) getting to know you.

I live in the PST time zone, and casually play around 9 to 11 pm on weekdays, and anytime on the weekends. Generally speaking, a lot of my rp happens between 4:30 pm PST to 8:00 pm PST. I pretty much only roleplay in-game, but feel free to ping me on tumblr or Discord (Nutley#8251) to get started!

#ff14 rp #balmung rp #ffxiv rp #Cravendy Hound #roegadyn

[tinyfierce]

“You look like shit” femryder/evfra?

[prompts from thispost ] 

—

[I get the feeling that thismight be an Andromeda rarepair ship? I’M GOOD FOR IT THO]

“You’re late, for once.”

Ryder turned to greet Evfra witha smile as he walked in, uncharacteristically tardy to a meeting in his own office.Despite having spent the entire time crafting meticulous ribbing appropriate fortheir level of non-intimacy, all the wind left her sails as she saw the statehe was in. “Holy hell, Evfra, you look like shit,”she managed, uncrossing her arms. “Language, I’m sorry –”

He waved her off as he leanedagainst his desk, grimacing. “No,” he said. “It feels accurate.”

She could get a better lookat him now, clearly fresh out of medbay from the characteristic smell ofantiseptic and fresh bandages. One arm was fully wrapped up to the elbow, thesame leg supported with an arched splint, and what looked like a burnstreaked across the side of one head and into the muscular appendages his kindpossessed.

“What happened?”

“A supply drop was… compromised,” he explained. “An ambush.”

Ryder paled. These weregetting more frequent. “Any casualties?”

“No. The supplies wererecovered, but – ” He shifted, the bandages creaking in protest. “Not easily.”

The change in his posturebrought a grimace to his face, and SAM translated the bioelectric signal viathe algorithm Ryder had been developing with the Moshae. Pain, it registered, andfrustration. Evfra reached for a jar of burn ointment on his desk, and Rydercould see that opening it, much less applying, would be difficult with aninjured arm.

“Here,” she offered, takingit from him and popping the lid. “Let me.”

Evfra eyed her warily, butstayed put as she pulled a small amount of the gel onto her fingertips andset about smoothing it over his affected skin in gentle, even strokes.

His stare wasunsettling, and Ryder had more than one reason to squirm.

“Before we debrief on theVoeld outpost,” she began, “I wanted to apologize.”

“For?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Theway-too-forward and apparently veryinappropriate flirting I accidentally threw at you? I don’t think you could’veforgotten that anytime soon.”

He snorted, and Ryder felthis warm breath on her hand. “The Moshae explained your… training,” he said. “Youstill have a lot to learn.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, remembering the mortification she’d felt as she learned just how poorly she’d interpreted that wavelength. “You’retelling me.”

She made room between themfor a moment as he cocked his hips to shift weight off of his injured leg, his posture relaxingsomewhat. “I imagine Jaal wasn’t too pleased,” he mused aloud, and it took allRyder had to keep from laughing and disturbing the rhythm in her hands.

“He seemed entertained,actually – even recommended you as a good choice for a lover. Nothing butpraise.”

Evfra muttered somethingunder his breath, and Ryder bit her tongue. Her biotic algorithms must havebeen translating a little too well, as it didn’t take long for the Angarancommander to notice.

“If you want to asksomething, ask it,” he told her flatly. “I won’t answer if I don’t want to.”

Fuck it. She was nosy, like any good Pathfinder,and he’d already called her out.

“You and Jaal,” she asked. “Wereyou romantically involved?”

He was thoughtful for amoment, gaze turning from her as he seemed to consider his answer. “Briefly,”he said, letting out a long exhale. “Years ago, when I first took command. Wewere both young, and -”

“Passionate,” Ryder finishedfor him. “Close quarters, high stakes. It happens a lot in our ranks, too.” Shepulled more of the salve onto her hand and moved on to the next section ofburns. “They’re the only other people who understand. The risks, what you gothrough -”

“And what you fight for.”

“Exactly.”

He made a noise in histhroat, turning his head a bit to accommodate her. “It was never serious, ifthat’s what you’re worried about,” he said. “Our families never met.”

It was with a sharp pinch tothe gut that Ryder remembered - and the expression on Jaal’s face when he’d told her - that Evfra had lost his entirefamily to the Kett. The Angara measured their happiness with the number ofclose relatives; to be alone must be devastating.

No wonder he threw himselfinto leadership, she thought as her pink hands traced the blue of his skin.

“Not worried, just trying toget to know you both better.”

He didn’t respond, staring atthe far wall of Resistance command and allowing her to move to the last (andleast blistered) area unimpeded. She was firmer in her touch here, glidingalong the natural texture and form of his physiology. Her patterns didn’tescape his notice.

“Your hands aren’t unskilled.”A compliment, considering the speaker. “Jaal taught you?”

“No, the medical staff hereon Aya.” She didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t touch Jaal outside of what’snecessary in a fight. Too… complicated. Confusing.”

They resumed their silence, andshe felt him turn away for a moment before speaking again.

“Shoulders,” he said. “Theyare important to the Angara, to Jaal. Start there.”

“Evfra?”

“You’re tending my injuries, I’mgiving you advice.” Irritation edged his voice, though his bioelectricitybetrayed the self-conscious tinge. “I don’t know how humans bond, but this ishow it works with Angara. Consider it a supplement to your lessons with theMoshae.”

At the word ‘bond,’ Ryder bitback a smile and replaced the jar lid. “I’m telling Jaal that we finished eachother’s sentences today. He’ll be overjoyed.”

“Don’t,” Evfra muttered. “I’llnever hear the end of it. You’re already all he talks about.”

“Good. Then you’ll know how Ifeel.” Crossing her arms, she gave him back a few inches of space. “Sometimeshe talks you up so much it makes me wonder if I picked the wrong Angara.”

“You’re flirting again,” hewarned, and Ryder grinned.

“On purpose this time. What aconcept.”

With a huff, he turned toface his desk and pulled up the map she’d brought. “We have business, Pathfinder.”

But Ryder had caught hissmirk clear as day, and made sure to pointedly wipe her oily fingers on hisjacket as she reached for her datapad.

#drabbles #prompts #evfra #evfra de tershaav #evfra x ryder #jaal #jaal ama darav #jaal x ryder #mass effect andromeda #rarepair hell

[zippdementia]

Part 37 Alignment May Vary: Marauder Attack

This is the continuing chronicles of my Dungeon and Dragon adventures. In Season One, I ran a homebrew conversion of Tomb of Horrors. In Season 2, we began an ongoing campaign, partially homebrew, but mostly a conversion of the 3.5 module Tomb of Haggemoth. In Season 3, we continue with the same characters (mostly) as they begin the classic 3.5 campaign Red Hand of Doom.

As Red Hand of Doom is an extremely popular module, I’ll be focusing a little more here on the conversion I created, what decisions I made and why, and how it all panned out. The benefit and difference between this thread and others is that you’ll see my decisions get playtested and get direct feedback on whether it worked or not as intended. Hopefully this information will be useful to others seeking to run the module in fifth edition. This is a full Fifth Edition playtest of Red Hand of Doom.

Outside of the standard Wizards of the Coast offerings, there are three sources I used extensively to create this conversion. The first was this wonderful thread over at Giant in the Playground. While the mechanical suggestions are not very relevant to 5th edition, there are a lot of good ideas here on everything from how to make the story more interesting to how to set up fights to be more interesting.

I found this gem on horde-like creatures to be extremely relevant and helpful in fleshing the horde out. It basically takes your classic basic monsters (Kobolds, Goblins, Hobgoblins, etc) and fleshes out some more options for playing them, including giving them some harder hitting abilities. I especially like how Hobgoblins get bonuses to attack dice based on grouping up. This really simulates what is would be like to be set on by a gang of these guys.

Finally, I use the Tome of Beasts in every campaign I run, just because it is so frickin’ fun, basically the second Monster Manual we haven’t yet gotten. And honestly, a second Monster Manual would be hard pressed to be this good. Awesome monsters, well designed, good range... I used it for certain random encounters and to help flesh out the world.

Prelude to Adventure

For three weeks after Karina leaves the party, Tyrion and Traki linger in Ottoman’s Dock, not by choice of Tyrion. Traki continues to have dreams. In these dreams, he sees a great red ship sailing towards Ottoman’s Dock, and riding on that ship is a Black dragon. The dreams are strongest on the nights which Traki clutches a piece of the jade statue which Karina once carried. Traki says they must wait for this ship.

“Look, you have dreams,” Tyrion tells him. “I have dreams, too, mate. Dreams of getting the eff out of here, moving on to that sweet Elsir Vale, continuing our story.”

Tyrion doesn’t tell him, but his fingers have begun to twitch during the day, drifting towards the hilt of his axe at odd times: whenever he hears a baby cry, or smells the sex drifting from a conspicuous alley as he walks by. The other night a brawl broke out in the tavern and he nearly drew the axe and killed a man before he stopped himself. He wants a reason to use the axe, and there is none left here.

Traki regards him with his ruined eyes and Tyrion has the uneasy feeling that he sees him, despite his blindness.

“Soon,” Traki says. “The dragon will take us East.”

And so they wait. Slowly their coin gets spent, the gift given them by Zennatos. They provision themselves and buy what magic items they can afford: some scrolls and potions and a wand of magic missile. Traki is given a spice bag, containing any spice he desires as long as he wills it, by a merchant grateful for his help in cleaning his shop. Traki takes it gratefully, the shopkeeper never knowing that his help came less from kindness and more for the purpose of rigorous training. No better place to learn how to use his other senses then the broken maze of a shop. By turning other tasks into training regimens, Traki soon develops a five foot blind sense. His bare feet pick up slight vibrations in the earth. The wind speaks to him. He becomes closer than ever he was to the world around him and he marvels at the barrier that sight was.

At the end of the third week, a large ship docks with the words The Crimson Tide painted across its hull. Riding at its prow is a black half dragon, small by the standards of that race but a towering giant to Tyrion. An old man tells him and Traki that this ship is a famed pirate killer and the she-dragon one of its crew. “Stories have been sung about that one,” he says, tapping his nose knowingly. Tyrion takes the opportunity to sing a song of his own, something like this:

“The Crimson Tide sails into port, Its sails and spirits high, The crew that lives to tell the tale, Of where hidden treasures lie; But the tales they weave Are of the soul, Of souls that turn to rot, These the dreadful pirate hunters, The Crimson pirates-not.”

The Half-Dragon (Karina’s new character) disembarks from the ship upon seeing the singing Halfling and cocks her head at him. “Pirate-nots?” she says, and then laughs. “You have a way with words. Not a clever way, but a memorable one.”

“The music writes itself, my lady,” Tyrion says, guessing from the creature’s voice more than appearance its gender. “I am but the singer.”

From here the conversation eventually takes the three of them to the tavern where they learn several things. One, the half-dragon is a storm druid name Nysyries Sholtak (Ni-Si-Re-Us). Two, she is taking her last journey with the pirate killers of the Crimson Tide. At her request, they are carrying her east to a port city, where she will disembark and make her way north on foot until reaching the Elsir Vale. The wind have brought her tales of the pain the land is in and it is her duty to go discover the source of that pain.

Finally, they learn that once she starts drinking, she won’t stop. The druid becomes roaring drunk, outlasting both of them by far, her speech becoming more and more draconic as the night wears on until eventually she is speaking of dark things they do not comprehend in a language they do not understand. But she does agree to take them with her when she goes, after hearing their story and Traki’s reports of his prophetic dreams. The agreement is a godsend for him and Tyrion. Going by ship the way Nyseries intends will bypass a perhaps impossible journey on foot through the wall that is the Dragonfang mountains, and then the Endless Plains beyond that set the western boundary of the Elsir Vale.

After docking at the southern tip of the continent, the party makes their way north, having several small adventures along the way which we don’t actually play out, just describe. At one point Tyrion tries to use his broken Doss Lute to charm some horses and it goes awry, meaning the party earns the hatred of all the horses in the area, who steal their food, trample their camps, and chase them down the road. They also encounter a group of wandering gypsies, who leave Tyrion with a mysterious and disturbing Tarokka card (we roll for which one): the Dark Lord. It shows a likeness of Tyrion, only the card changes as the companions continue to journey, showing his countenance grow darker and more menacing. A clawed hand appears resting on his shoulder and the pupils of his eyes disappear into inky blackness until his head looks like a glaring skull.

He does not share this with the others.

They also find the grave of someone named the “Mad Monk,” but it has long ago been dug up. Traki does find an odd stone at the gravesite and determines it is a “Ki Stone.” It can store up to 3 Ki if Ki is spent into it, and then this Ki can later be extracted to be used by a monk to power his abilities. It’s an item of my own devising, part of my gambit to provide the players with magic items that are more fun to use by giving more options to the players, rather than just bonuses to attack and damage and AC (especially as I’ve seen what that can do to bounded accuracy in fifth edition).

It’s tough to move away from the pathfinder mentality of “every weapon they find at this level should be at least a +1 magic sword with some crazy side ability” but it’s an important part of a successful conversion and I’ll talk about it later in a future post.

First Contact

The players reach a crossroads and decide to head east towards Drellin’s Ferry, seeing as how the west path borders the Thornwaste and doesn’t lead to anywhere particularly exciting. They are walking along a road bordered by trees when suddenly the hiss of arrows fill the sky! Only Trakki, conditioned now to use his ears (and the only one to make a perception check), catches the sound and is ready to react. He spins and snatches an arrow from the sky then flings it back into the treeline towards where his senses tell him. Another arrow takes him in the leg, but the one he throws finds its target, too, and they hear a roar of pain and a crash as a Hobgoblin dies in the brush.

And then our first combat of the campaign kicks off as the heroes are attacked by a band of Hobgoblins, led by blademaster Uth-Larr and Cleric Zharr!

Encounter: The Marauder Attack

Battle difficulty meant to be: easy or medium

Players are supposed to walk away feeling: “We got attacked by hobgoblins and it was a bigger deal than just some random encounter”

Rebuild: For this encounter, I opted to keep the first set of Hobgoblins and the Hellhounds standard. The Hobgoblins are really here to harry the players and provide support for the bigger threats, and to use up the player’s spell slots on taking em’ out. The hellhounds are a bit more of a threat, with some incredible damage from their firebreath, a decent to-hit, and enough hit points to last two or three rounds doling out that damage. They are also meant to punish players for clumping together.

For Uth-Larr and Zharr I added class levels. Uth-Larr I figure isn’t going to survive much past his first turn of attacking, because once Traki goes to work on him, I’m sure he’ll be stunned or otherwise impacted. He has to hit as hard as possible on his first round, then, and then hopefully roll well on his saves to survive to a second. I decide to give him levels in fighter, focusing on the superiority dice to give him options. The key skills he ends up with are action surge, which he’ll use right away to try and get as many hits as possible, and parry, which can reduce the damage he takes. His entire point is to hit hard and fast and hope he takes down a player or can survive to attack next round again.

Zharr is more interesting. In 3.5 he is supposed to turn himself invisible and dart around the battlefield healing and casting magic, but invisibility doesn’t work like that until you get fifth level spells (Greater Invisibility) in DnD 5e. Taking him to that level seems a little extreme for this fight, so instead I start poking around the Cleric domains and I find the Trickery Domain, which has a fascinating Channel Divinity option that lets him create a phantom image of himself which can cast magic. A similar effect, but a little more vulnerable to discovery.

Links to Uth-Larr and Zharr Statistics

Tactics: Part of the fun of this fight is that the players get to see that their enemy is large in numbers. I mean, this is the first fight in the campaign and it includes a total of twelve hobgoblins, two hell hounds, and two specialists (one fighter, one spellcaster). And that doesn’t count the fact that more hellhounds can be summoned. Fought all at once, this fight would be in the deadly range for most characters of level 8, simply because of the action economy. So in order to bring it down to a doable level, the fight is broken up into three parts. First, the basic hobgoblins try an ambush with ranged weapons. This is easy to deal with and when this ultimately goes badly for them, one blows a war horn and alerts the specialists and hellhounds to move in. This is the most critical part of the fight and the most deadly as the toughest opponents are attacking as one group. They have to be dealt with quickly, because two or three rounds later the reinforcements show up, and they are tougher. Hopefully by then, the players have whittled down the specialists and hellhounds and can focus on the new threat, or have bought themselves an opening to run away.

The specialists are the smartest opponents. Uth-Larr will always try to flank an opponent, using his parry maneuver to reduce damage taken from attacks of opportunity if he needs to maneuver into position. Zharr will distract and delay, first trying to draw fire away from Uth-Larr and the hounds, who are more dangerous threats in a direct fight. If that fails, he focuses on healing and supporting the fighters to keep them alive longer. If he can still have Uth-Larr alive when the reinforcements arrive, he will have created a fairly dangerous situation for the players.

How does it go: the fight ends up pretty perfect. The players make a couple tactical mistakes, mostly by splitting up and letting individual party members get surrounded. Traki takes the lead by chasing hobgoblins through the woods, but this leaves him surrounded and he goes down to Uth-Larr. Tyrion manages to get to him in time to revive him and from here the battle goes much more in their favor as Traki and Tyrion fight together against Uth-Larr. What this shows them is that these hobgoblins are no joke—it takes the two of them to take Uth-Larr down without casuality. Any one of them, this tells them, is not equal to taking on the horde alone.

Nisirius comes very close to death as well, taking multiple arrows from basic hobgoblins and getting into a very dangerous one-on-one fight with a hellhound, whose flame attack deals 27 damage to her at one point. But she also gets to display a very different kind of fighting ability then Karina, who was more of a sidelines fighter. Nisirius changes into a giant eagle at one point to gain maneuverability over the enemy, and at another point she casts ice storm to completely decimate the six Hobgoblin reinforcements as they approach from the North to join the fight. This kills most of them and sends the survivors fleeing.

Zharr ends up being their biggest nemesis in this fight and more interesting snd long lived than I had planned! I add a little flavor to him, giving him a hunchback and a creaky voice which he uses to portend doom for the party every other round. His illusion tactic works really well and it happens that the players don’t land a strike on him for a long time. When they do, I have them roll perception versus the spellcaster to see if they notice the illusion and Zharr succeeds these rolls for long enough to create a lot of confusion while the party tries to figure out why they can’t hit him, guessing everything from a beefed up boss character to him using a cloak of protection. Zharr summons a third hell hound during this time who harries the group for a while, and when that hellhound dies, it has been such a bizarre combat that I decide to try and get him out of there and use him again later as a re-occurring villain. He rolls a natural 20 on his sneak away roll and manages to live to fight another day, leaving them with the chilling warning that the horde knows who they are now and doom will find them if they stay.

Special Loot: Nothing too crazy. I do like giving out buffed up weapons but don’t want to break bounded accuracy, so I’ve converted most simple +1 swords in the Red Hand of Doom into “fine” weapons, which I say add +1 to damage. The players get these off of Uthlar, but miss Zharr’s summoning scroll since he got to use it before the battle ended. I planned on handling this as a very simple level 2 Cleric scroll, able to summon one Hellhound, no concentration needed, duration is one hour before the hellhound disappears.

Overall, I recommend this conversion. The battle goes perfectly. It is a tense fight: had the heroes not rallied and started working together, they could have all been killed here. But the battle being done in waves gave them enough time to recover and change tactics on the go, being just forgiving enough to let them survive. The end result is that the threat is definitely established, but no players had to a lose a character in our first session. 

The heroes have met the enemy and shown that they are strong enough to face them. However, several Hobgoblins, including the Trickster Zharr, have escaped and are making their way north to warn their masters of the approach of a new threat to the horde.

Next week we focus on the Town of Drellin’s Ferry and the adventurers will take their first steps into an ancient wood, where Twyin once marshaled his forces against an army of giants.

#Red Hand of Doom #Playthrough #Campaign Journal #Dungeons and Dragons #DND 5e

[airadiez]

Sailing Watches - InfoBarrel

In this way, we can configure a virtual start line between two GPS waypoints, and then combine it with the integrated countdown timer. If for example, someone falls overboard while wearing a Quatix clock, it sends an alert to the plotter. It is very traditional (no fancy-electronic gadgets) but very elegant and functional. Weaknesses: price (but it's a luxury item, so it will make you stand out as well) Highlights: backlighting and keylock function Highlights: water resistant up to 100 meters Weaknesses: there are many advanced functions that are missing, but hey you get what you pay for Garmin Quatix The device stands out for having a countdown timer, virtual start line and tacking assistant. When the competition has started, Quatix switches to 'Wizard Tacking', indicating whether the boat is at the optimum angle of turn provided. Weaknesses: no GPS, it's quite big so prepare to feel the weight on your wrist Weaknesses: no GPS, simple design, waterproof 50 meter only A watch cannot be a simple watch anymore. It features a countdown timer with Wooden Watch Mens synchro and digital compass. This nautical GPS clock can share data wirelessly with other Garmin devices. It also has extensive memory, as well as the usual time and stopwatch functions. Some of its functions are: Casio PAW1500-1V Combining the best elements of Pathfinder and Sea Pathfinder, Casio introduces the best Pathfinder created so far. It is rugged, reliable and accurate. On the other hand, it integrates security-related functions, such as the automatic activation of "Man Overboard". The enhanced GPS connects even under difficult conditions for more reliable readings when you need it. The Suunto X10 also makes records points and routes, allowing users to analyze and review itineraries a home. By linking it to a transceiver GNT(TM) 10, the navigator can see and transmit NMEA 2000 data, like speed, wind direction, water depth, etc... When you are following a preplanned route, it can show the direction you need to go and estimated time of arrival. Suunto X10M This watch combines the altimeter, barometer, compass, and GPS navigator in one. The Multiband 5 Atomic Solar Pathfinder goes beyond its core functions: Digital Compass, Altimeter, Barometer and Thermometer by adding Tide and moon graphs and moon age data. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce five top watches (and a bonus one) that will make sailing a piece of cake. It is designed specifically for sailing, it is thus reliable and accurate. We can then accurately calculate the distance to the line, and the desired speed and the time available to allow the boat to finish at full speed at the exact moment. It is similar in functions to the one by Garmin but its design is more classic.. If you're racing and you need to keep checking your time, your distance to the finish line, your pace or your itinerary, a simple watch isn't enough anymore - you need accuracy, simplicity and durability. Gill Regatta Master II This watch is in between the previous two: neither an Inspector Gadget device nor a James Bond talisman. Especially if you are on your boat and you have limited space, as well as the need to get the important information you need to sail without having to look for your phone or other device to tell you where to go. It is submergible up to 100 meters and - yes! It's a unisex watch! Rolex Submariner This watch was first introduced by the James Bond movies in the 60s. Highlights: I won't let you down (people usually have these watches for the rest of their lives) Its battery life is 33% longer than the X9i and has its own USB charger can also be used to transfer data. Weaknesses: not very durable (as per reviews) Bonus: Freestyle Unisex FS84899 Mariner Digital Sailing Watch This is a basic but sturdy watch that will the main functions required of chronometer and timekeeping. It was one of the first watches to achieve a complete working capability at a depth of up to 100 meters under the water. It also has a three-axis electronic compass, which indicates the direction whether the boat is in motion or not, an altimeter and a barometer for real-time environmental conditions and weather changes. Highlights: can be submerged up to 50 meters (150 feet); battery lasts up to 6 weeks on the watch mode and up to 16 hours on GPS mode. Highlights: water depth of up to 200 m The watch was first presented in the Basel festival in 1954. Aesthetically the Rolex Submariner has undergone very few modifications on the design over the years since the 1960s, while the technical capabilities have been widely improved, including a maximum diving depth of 300 meters. Weaknesses: doesn't float (you will want to dive if it falls in the sea) Highlights: price (pretty low for the quality - it's not a fancy watch but meets the expectations in its simplicity) Additional features: the James Bond feeling Additional features: wireless connection to computer, iPad or iPhone to download the data The Suunto X10 military has an improved GPS performance, which locates your position even faster than the X9i. It is essential for sailors. It also features remote control functions that control the autopilot Garmin remotely

[furilia]

LP Pathfinders: top Instagrams from November 2017

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LP Pathfinders: top Instagrams from November 2017

November has seen our intrepid Pathfinders snapping shots in the most mesmeric of locations, from icy caves to the sizzling heat of the Jordanian desert. Here’s the five images that stole our hearts this month.

Giant’s Causeway, Northern Ireland

A post shared by Natasha & Cam in Portugal <img src="http://s.w.org/images/core/emoji/72×72/1f1f5-1f1f9.png" alt="” class=”wp-smiley” style=”height: 1em; max-height: 1em;” /> (@theworldpursuit) on Nov 5, 2017 at 3:48am PST

‘Giant’s Causeway is an amazing and natural landscape formation in Northern Ireland! It was the first stop on our road trip. This magical and unreal place is filled with 40,000 basalt columns, which is a result of an ancient volcanic eruption, and in our opinion is a must-see in Northern Ireland.’ – Natasha and Cam, @theworldpursuit

Why we like it: The Causeway Coast is our top Best in Travel region to visit in 2018, and so naturally we were blown away by Natasha and Cam’s dramatic shot of the Giant’s Causeway being lapped by North Atlantic waves. Formed as a result of a volcanic eruption, the Giant’s Causeway has captured imaginations for hundreds of years, but this image proves that its mystery endures.   

Wadi Rum, Jordan

  A post shared by Yulia Denisyuk (@insearchofperfect) on Nov 26, 2017 at 6:21am PST

‘Wadi Rum is a remote, vast and still desert on the outskirts of southern Jordan. What makes it remarkable? It’s the whimsical landscape of wind-beaten rock formations jutting into the red earth as if they were giant ships sailing across an unearthly ocean. At sundown, the desert fills up with the golden light of the most ethereal quality. Best views of the radiance are found at a peak of your own.’ – Yulia, @insearchofperfect

Why we like it: Who wouldn’t want to wind down to an evening like this? Yulia’s image perfectly captures the sun setting over Wadi Rum, creating a beautiful mixture of orange hues when combined with the famous sandstone mountains. These pretty swanky looking tents provide a focal point within the frame, as well as a smidge of contrasting colour.

Catedral de Mármol, Chile

A post shared by Timothy Cohen (@timdavhen) on Nov 6, 2017 at 8:12am PST

‘The General Carrera Lake is the second biggest lake of South America, the first one being Titicaca. Its turquoise glacial waters are crystal clear, and have carved caves in these islets over time. The light bounces into the cavities and the waters, displaying some enchanting lighting and colour effects on the walls. The experience is always different because both the light and water level of the lake are continually changing. The water itself can vary from deep blue to turquoise, depending on the weather and the time of year.’ – Timothy, @timdavhen 

Why we like it: With his beautifully framed shot, Timothy allows us a sneak peek beneath the surface of a glacial lake, and wow, is it worth seeing! The countless shades of blue and turquoise, the shimmering reflections of the icy walls and the haunting stillness of the water create a stirring sense of wonder.  

Arizona, USA

A post shared by Olivia Christine Perez (@ochristine) on Nov 15, 2017 at 2:13pm PST

‘Under a high Arizona sun I caught a glimpse of a cactus that stood out in a sea of towering saguaros along Sabino Canyon. This cactus, a crested saguaro, had an odd mutation that caused it to fan outward instead of rise vertically. But like life, its unique story made it all the more beautiful.’ – Olivia, @ochristine

Why we like it: With that marbled, cloud-streaked sky, distant mountains and dry, desert floor, Olivia’s image is textbook picturesque Arizona, but what takes it to another level is the perfectly framed, characterful cactus, standing proud in the foreground.

Java, Indonesia

A post shared by Nitish Waila (@nitishwaila) on Nov 22, 2017 at 6:24am PST

‘After a wonderful sunrise at the viewpoint, we ventured down towards the volcano, but saw a huge crowd heading in the same direction (not great for photography!). Nevertheless, we decided to go and experience the boiling sulphur pool by standing right on top of it, and it was breathtaking. The blue sky and floating clouds mixed with sulphur fumes made it a wonderful composition to capture.’ – Nitish, @nitishwaila

Why we like it: Panoramic, dramatic and sweeping, Nitish’s snap makes us feel as though we’re walking along the precipice of the volcano with him. The line of the crater’s edge runs seamlessly from one corner of the image to another, drawing the eye seamlessly across and into the distance.

For your chance to be featured in our next round up, sign up to Lonely Planet Pathfinders – our programme for travel-loving bloggers and social content creators. In the meantime, you can get more Instagram inspiration by following @lonelyplanet.

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