VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
((Lmao I did roll and apply Bane but the word got mixed up in my head. I'll edit. My baaad))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
((That's probably why I had it on the mind.
But I went off the character sheet so it was definitely Bane))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
(( Give me an Athletics or Acrobatics check, your call ))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
((
Understanding the urgency of the situation and the need for quick, effective measures against the troll's regenerative abilities, she formulates a plan on the fly. As she dashes forward, her eyes catch sight of an oil lamp laying on the floor, its flame flickering innocently amidst the chaos of battle. A huge fire safety violation, but a very opportune one.
With a swift movement, she grabs the oil lamp, its warm glow casting shadows across her determined face. The tavern's patrons, momentarily taken aback by Cookie's sudden dash, watch in anticipation as she executes the next phase of her plan. With the agility characteristic of her halfling heritage, she leaps onto a table, gaining elevation and a clear line of sight over the throng of combatants.
Standing atop the table, the Halfling holds the oil lamp aloft, a beacon in the dim, tumultuous tavern. The Cleric takes aim. The stirge, distracted by its feeding frenzy and unaware of the imminent danger, continues to drain Durnan's vitality. Cookie exhales softly, a silent prayer to Oghma for guidance, and releases the bolt.
The bolt flies true, cutting through the air with a whisper. It strikes the stirge squarely, the force of the impact dislodging the creature from the barkeep and pinning it against the floor. The stirge twitches once, then falls limp, its body fatally pierced by the Cleric's precise shot.
(( @Local Hero ))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
((
The Sorcerer chooses to cast Earth Tremor, a powerful spell that causes the ground within a certain radius to shake violently, with the potential to knock creatures off their feet and even cause damage.
As Lok begins the incantation, the arcane energy gathers, and the air around him seems to thrum with power. The patrons and combatants alike feel a palpable sense of anticipation mixed with dread as they realize what is about to happen.
Upon completing the spell, the ground within the tavern shakes violently, sending shockwaves throughout the room. Tables, chairs, and unsecured objects are tossed about, adding to the chaos. The troll, caught in the radius of the spell, struggles to maintain its footing amidst the sudden earthquake, ultimately failing. Its massive form sways...then topples to the wooden floorboards.
Durnan, despite his combat experience and agility, is also affected by the spell. The ground beneath him becomes unstable, making it difficult for him to stand his ground. The legendary barkeeper, caught off-balance by the unexpected tremor, braces himself against the shaking, attempting to demonstrate his resilience even in the face of friendly fire....but he ultimately fails as well, falling prone on the floor.
Durnan takes 4 bludgeoning damage!
(( @Benzine ))
Zine yells "hooo boy, careful in there Durnan! We'll get ya matey, and then matey can help me with a beer!"
Zine moves a bit to the right, to make the nicest direct line of sight at the troll, maintaining the right distance for EB if he needs to move forward, of course. And then Zine cast EB at the troll again.
Zine moves a bit to the right, to make the nicest direct line of sight at the troll, maintaining the right distance for EB if he needs to move forward, of course. And then Zine cast EB at the troll again.
))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
As the patrons and staff within the Yawning Portal watch, Ben Zine extends an arm, palm outstretched towards the troll. The air around his hand crackles with eldritch energy, coalescing into a sphere of dark, swirling power. With a determined shout, the Warlock unleashes the Eldritch Blast, directing the concentrated force of arcane energy straight at the troll.
The blast hits the troll with a resounding impact, the force of the attack amplified by the Hex curse...which as we all know, is completely different from a Bane curse.
The troll roars in pain as the eldritch energy tears through it, the dark magic of the Hex ensuring the creature feels the full brunt of the spell. The additional damage dealt by the combination of Eldritch Blast and Hex is evident as the troll is visibly wounded and weakened by the Warlock's assault.
(( @The Flame ))
The blast hits the troll with a resounding impact, the force of the attack amplified by the Hex curse...which as we all know, is completely different from a Bane curse.
The troll roars in pain as the eldritch energy tears through it, the dark magic of the Hex ensuring the creature feels the full brunt of the spell. The additional damage dealt by the combination of Eldritch Blast and Hex is evident as the troll is visibly wounded and weakened by the Warlock's assault.
(( @The Flame ))
Nootie looks at the troll, then to the barkeep, shaking with fear and adrenaline. If Durnan goes down, this could take a dark turn. He seems more capable than all of us. Becoming suddenly aware of the dagger he's been white-knuckling,
Nootie moves off to the left side of Lok Ahl
to get a better line of sight, takes aim, and
whips the dagger at Durnan's remaining Stirge.
Then, with lightning speed,
fires a crossbow bolt at the troll with his bonus action using his feat.
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
First, aiming to alleviate the immediate threat to Durnan from the stirges, Nootie throws his dagger towards one of the blood-sucking creatures. Despite his intentions, the throw goes awry; the dagger slices through the air, missing its intended target.
Undeterred and recognizing the need to adapt his strategy, the Bard then shifts his focus to the troll, the larger and more dangerous threat. He aims his hand crossbow, a weapon he's more accustomed to using, and takes aim at the lumbering creature. The tension in the tavern rises as patrons and fighters alike watch the bard's next move, hoping for a hit that could tip the scales further in their favor...
However, the chaos of the battlefield and the unpredictable movements of both the troll and the combatants around it complicate the shot. Nootie fires the crossbow, but in a stroke of misfortune, the bolt does not find its intended mark. Instead, amidst the tumult, the projectile veers off course, striking Durnan, who was struggling to his feet.
The bolt's impact on Durnan adds to the barkeep's woes, who is already contending with injuries from the troll's claws and the stirges' blood-draining attacks.
Durnan takes 8 piercing damage!
Durnan's Turn
Rising from his prone position, Durnan, the battle-hardened barkeep of the Yawning Portal, shakes off the effects of the sorcerer's Earth Tremor and the unintended injury from the Bard's crossbow bolt. Understanding that the troll represents a significant threat not just to him but to all present, he grips Grimvault with renewed determination. The legendary weapon, known for its effectiveness against creatures of dark magic and formidable constitution, gleams ominously in the dim light of the tavern.
With the resolve of a seasoned warrior, Durnan launches into a series of attacks against the troll. His first strike is swift and precise, cutting through the air and landing solidly against the troll's flesh. The second blow follows in quick succession, further wounding the beast and drawing a pained roar from its gaping maw. The third strike, however, misses its mark; the troll, despite its injuries, manages to lurch awkwardly to the side, evading the blade.
Undeterred, Durnan adjusts his stance, focusing his strength and experience into a final, decisive attack. With a powerful swing, he brings Grimvault down upon the troll, the sword slicing through the creature's defenses with a force that leaves no room for survival. The blow lands with a sickening thud, and for a moment, the troll's movements cease, its massive form teetering before it collapses to the ground, seemingly defeated.
A murmur of relief and tentative celebration spreads through the Yawning Portal as Durnan stands over the fallen troll, Grimvault still in hand. The patrons and adventurers, their spirits lifted by the sight of the troll's defeat, begin to rally, believing the battle to be turning in their favor.
Stirge Turn
As the stirge hounding Lok Ahl attempts to latch onto the Sorcerer, aiming to pierce his skin with its needle-like proboscis once more, the effects of Bane manifest. The creature, normally agile and precise in its attacks, finds its movements clumsy and its aim off. Its dive, instead of being a swift, lethal strike, becomes a misjudged flutter that carries it past the sorcerer, missing its intended target entirely.
The other living stirge, driven by a voracious hunger, dives towards Durnan with its proboscis aimed, ready to drain the blood of its victim again. However, Durnan, seasoned warrior that he is, anticipates the attack. With a swift movement born of countless battles, he dodges the incoming assault, leaving the stirge to grasp at empty air.
Troll Turn???
However, the moment of triumph is short-lived. The troll, lying motionless on the tavern floor, begins to show signs of its dreaded regenerative ability once more. Before the eyes of the stunned onlookers, the wounds inflicted by Durnan's sword start to close, the flesh knitting together as if by dark magic. Within moments, the troll begins to stir, its limbs twitching as it prepares to rise again, renewed by its regenerative powers.
Durnan shouts to the party: "We must set it aflame!"
(( @Christina ))
Undeterred and recognizing the need to adapt his strategy, the Bard then shifts his focus to the troll, the larger and more dangerous threat. He aims his hand crossbow, a weapon he's more accustomed to using, and takes aim at the lumbering creature. The tension in the tavern rises as patrons and fighters alike watch the bard's next move, hoping for a hit that could tip the scales further in their favor...
However, the chaos of the battlefield and the unpredictable movements of both the troll and the combatants around it complicate the shot. Nootie fires the crossbow, but in a stroke of misfortune, the bolt does not find its intended mark. Instead, amidst the tumult, the projectile veers off course, striking Durnan, who was struggling to his feet.
The bolt's impact on Durnan adds to the barkeep's woes, who is already contending with injuries from the troll's claws and the stirges' blood-draining attacks.
Durnan takes 8 piercing damage!
Durnan's Turn
Rising from his prone position, Durnan, the battle-hardened barkeep of the Yawning Portal, shakes off the effects of the sorcerer's Earth Tremor and the unintended injury from the Bard's crossbow bolt. Understanding that the troll represents a significant threat not just to him but to all present, he grips Grimvault with renewed determination. The legendary weapon, known for its effectiveness against creatures of dark magic and formidable constitution, gleams ominously in the dim light of the tavern.
With the resolve of a seasoned warrior, Durnan launches into a series of attacks against the troll. His first strike is swift and precise, cutting through the air and landing solidly against the troll's flesh. The second blow follows in quick succession, further wounding the beast and drawing a pained roar from its gaping maw. The third strike, however, misses its mark; the troll, despite its injuries, manages to lurch awkwardly to the side, evading the blade.
Undeterred, Durnan adjusts his stance, focusing his strength and experience into a final, decisive attack. With a powerful swing, he brings Grimvault down upon the troll, the sword slicing through the creature's defenses with a force that leaves no room for survival. The blow lands with a sickening thud, and for a moment, the troll's movements cease, its massive form teetering before it collapses to the ground, seemingly defeated.
A murmur of relief and tentative celebration spreads through the Yawning Portal as Durnan stands over the fallen troll, Grimvault still in hand. The patrons and adventurers, their spirits lifted by the sight of the troll's defeat, begin to rally, believing the battle to be turning in their favor.
Stirge Turn
As the stirge hounding Lok Ahl attempts to latch onto the Sorcerer, aiming to pierce his skin with its needle-like proboscis once more, the effects of Bane manifest. The creature, normally agile and precise in its attacks, finds its movements clumsy and its aim off. Its dive, instead of being a swift, lethal strike, becomes a misjudged flutter that carries it past the sorcerer, missing its intended target entirely.
The other living stirge, driven by a voracious hunger, dives towards Durnan with its proboscis aimed, ready to drain the blood of its victim again. However, Durnan, seasoned warrior that he is, anticipates the attack. With a swift movement born of countless battles, he dodges the incoming assault, leaving the stirge to grasp at empty air.
Troll Turn???
However, the moment of triumph is short-lived. The troll, lying motionless on the tavern floor, begins to show signs of its dreaded regenerative ability once more. Before the eyes of the stunned onlookers, the wounds inflicted by Durnan's sword start to close, the flesh knitting together as if by dark magic. Within moments, the troll begins to stir, its limbs twitching as it prepares to rise again, renewed by its regenerative powers.
Durnan shouts to the party: "We must set it aflame!"
(( @Christina ))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
Understanding the urgency of the moment and the need to exploit the troll's vulnerability to fire, Cookie readies the oil lamp she had previously collected. The lamp, its flame steady and bright, becomes more than a source of light; it is a potential weapon against the formidable foe before her.
With the entire tavern's eyes on her, the Cleric moves to the edge of the table, her small frame balancing precariously. She takes a moment to steady herself, her focus unwavering as she calculates the trajectory needed to hit the troll with the lamp. The risk of falling or missing her target weighs heavily on her, but the greater risk of allowing the troll to regain its full strength and wreak havoc on the tavern and its patrons drives her forward.
With a determined motion, the Halfling tosses the lit oil lamp towards the troll. The lamp arcs through the air, its flame trailing behind it like a comet. The troll, still groggy from the recent attacks and perhaps underestimating the danger of the incoming projectile, fails to evade in time.
The lamp shatters upon impact, covering the troll in burning oil. Flames quickly engulf its massive form, the fire consuming it with a ferocity that halts its regeneration in its tracks. The troll roars in agony, its body ablaze, the magical fire proving to be the one thing it cannot easily overcome.
(( @Local Hero ))
With the entire tavern's eyes on her, the Cleric moves to the edge of the table, her small frame balancing precariously. She takes a moment to steady herself, her focus unwavering as she calculates the trajectory needed to hit the troll with the lamp. The risk of falling or missing her target weighs heavily on her, but the greater risk of allowing the troll to regain its full strength and wreak havoc on the tavern and its patrons drives her forward.
With a determined motion, the Halfling tosses the lit oil lamp towards the troll. The lamp arcs through the air, its flame trailing behind it like a comet. The troll, still groggy from the recent attacks and perhaps underestimating the danger of the incoming projectile, fails to evade in time.
The lamp shatters upon impact, covering the troll in burning oil. Flames quickly engulf its massive form, the fire consuming it with a ferocity that halts its regeneration in its tracks. The troll roars in agony, its body ablaze, the magical fire proving to be the one thing it cannot easily overcome.
(( @Local Hero ))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
((For a melee attack, roll a d20. We'll add 4 to the result because your Strength modifier is +2 and you get an additional +2 from being proficient with that weapon. Then if that result is higher than the Armor Class of the stirge, we will apply the damage from the d6 you already rolled.))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
Armed not just with his potent spells but also with a sturdy quarterstaff—a weapon he wields with the proficiency of a seasoned fighter—the Sorcerer steps towards the stirge. The creature, perhaps emboldened by the scent of blood or simply acting on its predatory instincts, hovers menacingly near the Goliath, unaware of the imminent counterattack.
With a swift, calculated movement, Lok Ahl swings his quarterstaff through the air, the wood cutting a determined arc towards the stirge. His aim is true, and the staff connects with the stirge with enough force to ensure that this would be its final attack. The impact of the quarterstaff against the creature is both swift and lethal, leaving no chance for survival. The stirge falls to the ground, lifeless, its threat to the tavern's defenders abruptly ended.
(( @Benzine ))
With a swift, calculated movement, Lok Ahl swings his quarterstaff through the air, the wood cutting a determined arc towards the stirge. His aim is true, and the staff connects with the stirge with enough force to ensure that this would be its final attack. The impact of the quarterstaff against the creature is both swift and lethal, leaving no chance for survival. The stirge falls to the ground, lifeless, its threat to the tavern's defenders abruptly ended.
(( @Benzine ))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
With the troll already weakened by the combined efforts of the Yawning Portal's defenders, Ben Zine's Eldritch Blast, supercharged by the lingering effects of the Hex spell, becomes the decisive blow in this fierce battle. As the beam of dark, eldritch energy strikes the troll, the additional curse-inflicted damage proves too much for the creature to withstand, even with its formidable regenerative capabilities halted by fire.
The impact of the Eldritch Blast resonates through the tavern, a visible shockwave of arcane power that momentarily silences the clamor of battle. The troll, engulfed in flames and now struck by the full might of the warlock's spell, lets out a final, agonized roar before collapsing to the ground, its massive form going still.
The tavern's patrons and the group of adventurers watch in a mix of relief, exhaustion, and disbelief as the troll's threat is finally neutralized.
(( @The Flame, just the final stirge left to clean up ))
The impact of the Eldritch Blast resonates through the tavern, a visible shockwave of arcane power that momentarily silences the clamor of battle. The troll, engulfed in flames and now struck by the full might of the warlock's spell, lets out a final, agonized roar before collapsing to the ground, its massive form going still.
The tavern's patrons and the group of adventurers watch in a mix of relief, exhaustion, and disbelief as the troll's threat is finally neutralized.
(( @The Flame, just the final stirge left to clean up ))
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
The Aarakocra Bard, having witnessed the effectiveness of his companions' actions and feeling the weight of his earlier misfire that inadvertently harmed Durnan, is determined to make amends.
The Bard takes careful aim, his bird-like eyes tracking the stirge's erratic flight path. The silence that follows the troll's defeat heightens the tension, all eyes momentarily turning to the bard.
In a swift motion, the bard releases the bolt from his hand crossbow. The projectile speeds through the air, its path true. This time, there is no misfire, no unfortunate accidents. The bolt strikes the stirge squarely, piercing through its body and pinning it against the wooden wall of the tavern. The creature twitches momentarily before going still, the threat it posed now neutralized.
A collective sigh of relief and a round of applause erupt from the patrons and adventurers alike.
~~~~~
Durnan, surveying the aftermath of the battle, nods in approval at the Bard and the rest of the adventurers: "You fought well."
As the adrenaline of the fight fades, tales of bravery and magic begin to fill the air, the story of the battle against the troll and its stirges already taking shape as a new legend in the storied history of the tavern.
The camaraderie among the defenders is palpable, a bond forged in the heat of battle. As they begin the process of cleaning up and tending to the wounded, there's a sense that, for tonight at least, the Yawning Portal is more than just a tavern; it's a testament to the strength and courage of those who stand in defense of their fellow adventurers and patrons.
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"
Pushing gently but persistently against the tide of patrons who are trying to steer clear of the remnants of the battle and get a better look at the heroes of the hour, a man in incredibly flamboyant attire makes his way through the crowd and approaches our heroes:
"Your bravery and skill are truly the stuff of legend! I must say, the way you handled that troll and its vile companions was nothing short of spectacular! And that ingenious use of the oil lamp to stop the beast's regeneration—marvelous!"
He moves from one hero to the next, offering each a hearty handshake or an enthusiastic pat on the back.
To the Cleric, he bows slightly, expressing his admiration for her quick thinking and the boldness of her actions with the oil lamp. "Truly, the light of Oghma guided your hand this evening," he says, his words seeming outwardly sincere.
To the Goliath sorcerer, the newcomer nods in respect, acknowledging the power and precision of his spells. "Your mastery of the arcane is a sight to behold. The tremors you summoned will be the talk of the city!"
The Warlock receives a wide-eyed look of fascination from the man, who is particularly intrigued by the dark energies wielded in battle. "Ah, the mysterious ways of the eldritch forces! Your Hex and Eldritch Blasts were key to felling the beast. Magnificent!"
Lastly, he turns to the bard, clapping him on the back with enthusiasm. "And you, my feathered friend, your aim is true and your tactics are sharp. The final stirge had no chance against your skill with the crossbow. A performance worthy of the finest tales!"
"To think I had the good fortune to witness this epic confrontation firsthand!" He continues, his eyes sparkling with the prospect of chronicling the event. "This will make for an exceptional addition to my next volume. With your permission, of course, I would be honored to include your heroic deeds in 'Volo's Guide to Heroes and Monsters.' Your names will be known across the realms!"
The Bard takes careful aim, his bird-like eyes tracking the stirge's erratic flight path. The silence that follows the troll's defeat heightens the tension, all eyes momentarily turning to the bard.
In a swift motion, the bard releases the bolt from his hand crossbow. The projectile speeds through the air, its path true. This time, there is no misfire, no unfortunate accidents. The bolt strikes the stirge squarely, piercing through its body and pinning it against the wooden wall of the tavern. The creature twitches momentarily before going still, the threat it posed now neutralized.
A collective sigh of relief and a round of applause erupt from the patrons and adventurers alike.
~~~~~
Durnan, surveying the aftermath of the battle, nods in approval at the Bard and the rest of the adventurers: "You fought well."
As the adrenaline of the fight fades, tales of bravery and magic begin to fill the air, the story of the battle against the troll and its stirges already taking shape as a new legend in the storied history of the tavern.
The camaraderie among the defenders is palpable, a bond forged in the heat of battle. As they begin the process of cleaning up and tending to the wounded, there's a sense that, for tonight at least, the Yawning Portal is more than just a tavern; it's a testament to the strength and courage of those who stand in defense of their fellow adventurers and patrons.
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"
Pushing gently but persistently against the tide of patrons who are trying to steer clear of the remnants of the battle and get a better look at the heroes of the hour, a man in incredibly flamboyant attire makes his way through the crowd and approaches our heroes:
"Your bravery and skill are truly the stuff of legend! I must say, the way you handled that troll and its vile companions was nothing short of spectacular! And that ingenious use of the oil lamp to stop the beast's regeneration—marvelous!"
He moves from one hero to the next, offering each a hearty handshake or an enthusiastic pat on the back.
To the Cleric, he bows slightly, expressing his admiration for her quick thinking and the boldness of her actions with the oil lamp. "Truly, the light of Oghma guided your hand this evening," he says, his words seeming outwardly sincere.
To the Goliath sorcerer, the newcomer nods in respect, acknowledging the power and precision of his spells. "Your mastery of the arcane is a sight to behold. The tremors you summoned will be the talk of the city!"
The Warlock receives a wide-eyed look of fascination from the man, who is particularly intrigued by the dark energies wielded in battle. "Ah, the mysterious ways of the eldritch forces! Your Hex and Eldritch Blasts were key to felling the beast. Magnificent!"
Lastly, he turns to the bard, clapping him on the back with enthusiasm. "And you, my feathered friend, your aim is true and your tactics are sharp. The final stirge had no chance against your skill with the crossbow. A performance worthy of the finest tales!"
"To think I had the good fortune to witness this epic confrontation firsthand!" He continues, his eyes sparkling with the prospect of chronicling the event. "This will make for an exceptional addition to my next volume. With your permission, of course, I would be honored to include your heroic deeds in 'Volo's Guide to Heroes and Monsters.' Your names will be known across the realms!"
Cookie sits at down on the edge of the table she was standing on. She looks completely exhausted. Her eyes flick around as she is processing what just happen.
Is the Half-Orc ok? How many trolls are in that well? Why is there a troll filled well in a tavern? That's a really awesome sword the barkeep has. I guess it's smart to have such a talent in your barkeep when you have a giant troll filled well in it. Volo's guide? Are you Volo? Are you bard? A scholar? Can I get a copy of your book? My head really hurts. I'm really tired. I should probably call it a night and get some rest.
Is the Half-Orc ok? How many trolls are in that well? Why is there a troll filled well in a tavern? That's a really awesome sword the barkeep has. I guess it's smart to have such a talent in your barkeep when you have a giant troll filled well in it. Volo's guide? Are you Volo? Are you bard? A scholar? Can I get a copy of your book? My head really hurts. I'm really tired. I should probably call it a night and get some rest.
"Lok is sorry for about hurting you..."
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
Durnan grunts and pulls the errant crossbow bolt from his shoulder as one of the tavern workers approaches him to bandage the wound. He gives Nootie a curt nod, his eloquent way of thanking the Bard for helping end the Troll/Stirge threat.
The man seems a little confused: "Do...do all humans look alike to you? How intriguing..."
"Oh! Forgive my impertinence! Volothamp Geddarm, chronicler, wizard, and celebrity, at your service, but please, call me Volo," he introduces himself with a flourish, though his name is already well-known to many in the room. His eyes gleam with excitement, not just from the thrill of the battle they've all survived but from the possibilities that such bravery and skill present for the task he has in mind.
"I must say, your actions tonight have been nothing short of heroic. It's not every day that one witnesses such courage and tactical brilliance," Volo continues, his voice carrying a hint of urgency now. "Which brings me to a request, or rather, a proposition, of sorts."
He pauses for a moment, gauging the adventurers' reactions, before proceeding.
"I wonder if you wouldn't mind finding a table where we can continue this conversation with a bit more...subtlety?"
"Lok not subtle...but happy to sit"
Lok finds a table and group of chairs undamaged by the fight
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
The party all finds a table and waits for most of the curious eyes to finally tear their gaze away from the crew. Ben Zine shows up with a round of drinks for everyone. Apparently Durnan has comped their food and drink for the evening.
"Am I a hero?" Volo repeats, allowing the question to hang in the air for a moment. "Well, my feathered friend, that is a matter of perspective, isn't it? Heroes come in many forms, after all."
He leans his head forward, lowering his voice as if to share a secret with the adventurers gathered around him. "I have traversed the realms, documented the extraordinary, and faced perils that would chill your very soul. I've aided those in need, uncovered truths long buried, and, on occasion, extricated myself from situations of considerable... complexity."
Volo chuckles softly, a self-deprecating glint in his eye. "But have my actions elevated me to the status of a hero? I am but a humble chronicler of tales, an observer of the grand tapestry of adventure that unfolds across our world. It is the people within those tales—the brave, the bold, and the selfless—who are the true heroes."
He gestures expansively to the group before him. "Like yourselves, who stood against the darkness to protect those who could not fend for themselves. You faced down a troll and its minions with courage and determination. That, my friends, is the essence of heroism."
Volo's gaze sweeps over the assembled adventurers, his expression one of genuine respect and admiration. "I, on the other hand, endeavor to ensure that such deeds are not forgotten, that they inspire others to acts of greatness. If my work aids even a single soul in finding the courage to face the shadows, then perhaps I have played my part."
"Having said all that...I do have a request...nay, a proposition for you all."
"I trust you've noted the violence in our fair city these past tendays. I haven't seen so much blood since my last visit to Baldur's Gate! But now I fear I have misplaced a friend amid this odious malevolence."
"My friend's name is Floon Blagmaar. He's got more beauty than brains, and I worry he took a bad way home a couple nights ago and was kidnapped — or worse. If you agree to track him down with all due haste, I can offer you ten dragons apiece now, and I can give you each ten times that when you find Floon. May I prevail upon you in my hour of need?"
"Am I a hero?" Volo repeats, allowing the question to hang in the air for a moment. "Well, my feathered friend, that is a matter of perspective, isn't it? Heroes come in many forms, after all."
He leans his head forward, lowering his voice as if to share a secret with the adventurers gathered around him. "I have traversed the realms, documented the extraordinary, and faced perils that would chill your very soul. I've aided those in need, uncovered truths long buried, and, on occasion, extricated myself from situations of considerable... complexity."
Volo chuckles softly, a self-deprecating glint in his eye. "But have my actions elevated me to the status of a hero? I am but a humble chronicler of tales, an observer of the grand tapestry of adventure that unfolds across our world. It is the people within those tales—the brave, the bold, and the selfless—who are the true heroes."
He gestures expansively to the group before him. "Like yourselves, who stood against the darkness to protect those who could not fend for themselves. You faced down a troll and its minions with courage and determination. That, my friends, is the essence of heroism."
Volo's gaze sweeps over the assembled adventurers, his expression one of genuine respect and admiration. "I, on the other hand, endeavor to ensure that such deeds are not forgotten, that they inspire others to acts of greatness. If my work aids even a single soul in finding the courage to face the shadows, then perhaps I have played my part."
"Having said all that...I do have a request...nay, a proposition for you all."
"I trust you've noted the violence in our fair city these past tendays. I haven't seen so much blood since my last visit to Baldur's Gate! But now I fear I have misplaced a friend amid this odious malevolence."
"My friend's name is Floon Blagmaar. He's got more beauty than brains, and I worry he took a bad way home a couple nights ago and was kidnapped — or worse. If you agree to track him down with all due haste, I can offer you ten dragons apiece now, and I can give you each ten times that when you find Floon. May I prevail upon you in my hour of need?"
VashTheStampede
Sorry Jawneh
"It was not long ago," Volo begins, his voice taking on the cadence of a storyteller, "under the cloak of an evening much like this one, that I last saw my dear friend Floon. Ah, Floon Blagmaar, with his charismatic smile and a penchant for finding himself in the most... peculiar of situations."
He pauses, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. "We had met for a drink, or perhaps several, at a tavern not unlike the Yawning Portal. The night was alive with the usual din of merry patrons and the clinking of tankards. Floon, ever the social butterfly, was regaling a group with tales of our latest misadventure—a story which, I assure you, he embellished with great flair."
Volo's expression turns somber. "I shall admit, much imbibing and nearly as much gambling were the table of contents to our tale that evening. But as the night wore on, we parted ways, each to our own pursuits. As I left that establishment...the Skewered Dragon, they call it...Floon remained behind, promising to regale me with the tales of his evening upon our next meeting."
He sighs, the weight of concern evident in his gaze. "Alas, that was the last I saw of him. In the days that followed, I heard nothing from Floon, a silence most uncharacteristic of him. Worried, I began to make inquiries, only to discover that my friend had vanished, as if swallowed by the night itself."
Volo's concern for his friend is palpable, his usual vivacity dimmed by the mystery of Floon's disappearance. "Floon Blagmaar is many things—charmer, scoundrel, occasional troublemaker—but he is also my friend. And now, I fear he may have found himself entangled in something beyond his ability to charm his way out of."
He pauses, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. "We had met for a drink, or perhaps several, at a tavern not unlike the Yawning Portal. The night was alive with the usual din of merry patrons and the clinking of tankards. Floon, ever the social butterfly, was regaling a group with tales of our latest misadventure—a story which, I assure you, he embellished with great flair."
Volo's expression turns somber. "I shall admit, much imbibing and nearly as much gambling were the table of contents to our tale that evening. But as the night wore on, we parted ways, each to our own pursuits. As I left that establishment...the Skewered Dragon, they call it...Floon remained behind, promising to regale me with the tales of his evening upon our next meeting."
He sighs, the weight of concern evident in his gaze. "Alas, that was the last I saw of him. In the days that followed, I heard nothing from Floon, a silence most uncharacteristic of him. Worried, I began to make inquiries, only to discover that my friend had vanished, as if swallowed by the night itself."
Volo's concern for his friend is palpable, his usual vivacity dimmed by the mystery of Floon's disappearance. "Floon Blagmaar is many things—charmer, scoundrel, occasional troublemaker—but he is also my friend. And now, I fear he may have found himself entangled in something beyond his ability to charm his way out of."
((I'm sure Volo's probably a trustworthy dude, but as an overly-cautious penguin,
I'ma roll Insight on him to see if there's any bullshittery going on with this flamboyant fellow
because rolling is fun.))
Nootie looks down at his drink for a moment, lost in thought. "...Look pardner. I'm sorry to hear about yer friend, and that's quite the reward... But I'm not sure if I'm cut out for this sorta thing. I mean, I'm a bard, not a warrior. Sure I've been around the block, but I'm pretty sure I did more damage to our bartender friend than anything else there."
He looks around to his allies, gauging their reactions to Volo's request.
Nootie looks down at his drink for a moment, lost in thought. "...Look pardner. I'm sorry to hear about yer friend, and that's quite the reward... But I'm not sure if I'm cut out for this sorta thing. I mean, I'm a bard, not a warrior. Sure I've been around the block, but I'm pretty sure I did more damage to our bartender friend than anything else there."
He looks around to his allies, gauging their reactions to Volo's request.
Zine communicates telepathically only to Nootie, while also reaching over to cheers with Nootie and smile warmly.
Me, it's your conscience. Don't feel so bad about hurting the bartender, it did nothing to him, he knows you're just trying to help. Let's try again by helping out this Rolo character. You're doing super duper!
Me, it's your conscience. Don't feel so bad about hurting the bartender, it did nothing to him, he knows you're just trying to help. Let's try again by helping out this Rolo character. You're doing super duper!
