Well kept, and fairly level grass, almost as nice as the lawn of a castle's courtyard, broken only by the occasional patch of flowers both wild and planted? No trees around to cast shadows, letting a generous amount of moonlight illuminate the surrounding? Sleek, sloping stone slabs of all shapes and sizes sticking from the ground? Why, this place must be a graveyard. Why would our heroes find themselves here of all places? Perhaps once they awaken they could do some exploring, and some investigating.
Posted: Sun Aug 07, 2016 9:35 pm
Everything is numb and cold. When you try to move you feel your body refuse to cooperate, forcing you to lay still. In this state it is impossible to tell how much time has passed, but in time you begin to feel a very faint tingle along your limbs that feels like little pinpricks of ice. Painfully slowly, they begin to spread, and much like the ripples which result from a stone tossed in a pond, they leave a calmness in their wake. Gradually, a you can feel a tiny bit of warmth return to your body, and as this reaches your limbs after what feels like hours, with considerable effort, your digits begin to obey your command once more. In the time it takes to muster up enough strength to make any major movements feeling returns to your body, letting you feel a few sensations such as the clothing on your skin, slightly dewy grass beneath your exposed skin, the cool crisp night air and… stone resting against the back of your head?
Roll for Initiative!*
*
To those unfamiliar, to roll initiative, simply roll a d20 (or twenty sided die) on the dice roller, and add your initiative bonus to your roll.
The DM says... Once everyone has rolled, I will explain what you see on the first person's turn.
The DM says... Order of regaining mobility (and therefore posting) is as follows: Adel -> Jax -> Karida
At your own pace, whether it being startled awake by the foreign sensations, or fighting off the grips of sleep and numbness, you find yourself free of your apparent paralysis. Once you find your way back on your feet, you find the reason you felt yourself resting against stone. Not only did you awaken in a field with rows and rows of tombstones, but you found yourself resting right between a headstone and footstone as though it were a bed. A few immediate curiosities can be answered in an instant. The midnight moonlight is sufficient to make out enough detail to determine that you don't recognize this place. A glance at the headstones determines that the one behind you was blank.
The graveyard itself is incredibly nicely kept, probably visited every week or so to tidy up the place and make it presentable to whoever it was who would stop by. Of course it probably helps to maintain it the fact that it isn't all that large. Despite that, the graves aren't all that crammed together. Little beds of flowers are planted at intervals to line a walkway composed of stones in the soil which divides the cemetery in two. Every headstone stands up perfectly straight, seems decently polished and clean, and doesn't have so much as a scratch in the surface or a chip in the stone. No signs of looters or necromancers handiwork, which for some of you might be a far cry from the life you know. The crisp night air is refreshing to say the least, but it does seem a bit cold. The only motion in the entire place aside from yourself is the rustling of the breeze through the hedge walls of the place, and in the distance, might just be able to make out the shapes of two people who appeared to share your same fate. Paralyzed and dumped in a graveyard? Seemed an awful lot like someone was trying to send a message... However, even with all of this going on, something else demands your attention just a little bit more. A small object stands out in the dim light. It'd been there the whole time, probably within arms reach from where you were laying moments before. You recognized the object as one which belongs to you*. It made it here with you- wherever here is- perfectly intact. You can't help but notice though, that aside from the clothes on your back and your coin purse this is the only thing around that you own. You can't help but feel compelled to take it... more so than usual it gives you a sense of security to hold.
Lastly, at the gate of the cemetery a short distance away from where you stand, the stone path changes over to a packed down dirt road. A town lies but a stones throw away, built around a crossroads. A couple of lights are even on in the windows.
What do you do?
*The object is the one you selected to be your sentimental object
This pertains to...
Civil_Union
Bear Necessity
Yaroki
The Fiend
You can't help but feel a faint scratching in the back of your mind to pair itself with the tingling of your body as it fights against the numbness, but it compels you to awaken much like your instinct. Aah, she finally awakens. a soft hiss of a whisper rattles in your mind, a faint echo accompanying despite the fact that it didn't have very much volume. Not one for wasting time apparently, you feel the sensation of invisible hands on either side of your head, guiding your vision to look at the heirloom of your mother. Remember this? It is yours. Take it. the voice of a hissing woman instructs, releasing you from her grasp. Oddly enough you recognized the voice, but it was so much fainter the other handful of times you heard it. It will give you power. Power that you need. This place is not like what you're used to the voice warned. Now off with you. I will contact you again as needed.
You can't possibly imagine just how helpless one feels when they can't move their bodies. Whether you're tied up being tortured, and the only allowed movements are ones from pain. Or if you're bound and gagged on the tracks of an oncoming locomotive and all you can do I scream. The feeling sucks. It's worse however... If one just so happened to be drunk, and unable to move. And that's just what was happening to this man. Unable to move. His eyes barely open as they stared through the hazy filter of squinted eyes. And for the better part of an hour or a day or even a week, for he had no idea of just how much time had passed, he felt the greatest urge to vomit. The man knew that this wasn't going to be a casual affair either. Whatever happened to him, the whole "you can't move" s**t, had effected his insides as well.
He felt queasy at first, a warning of what was to come. As time did its thing, and feeling started to return to him, the queasy feeling began to grow in strength. His left big toe twitched. A brief moment of clarity. At least he wasn't a dismembered mess. Though he'd soon wish he was. Another twitch of the toe and he felt it rise. His stomach flipped and turned. Pulled into him. He gagged for a moment. Or an hour. A day? He couldn't know. As more feeling returned to him he felt the warming comfort of his clothing. Moonlight shone greatly down onto his face. The stars in the night sky shined bright. Like diamonds. Wait. Hold the personal letter wrapped carefully in an envelope. Night sky? Stars? Just what had he gotten himself into. And that's when it hit him.
His stomach lurched and he sprang into action. His left hand pushed himself off the ground as his right found its way to his stomach. He sat up in a daze. Pulling himself over some kind of smooth stone near his feet he released the demon. He hadn't noticed that their was another stone by his head, nor did he noticed it looked like bed framing with both stones. He threw up for a minute. It had actually felt like hours. Not because of some foreign sensation but throwing up for a long period of time is draining.
Now empty, and sober, he pushed himself to his feet thanks to the foreign stone. A stone he'd immediately recognize as a headstone. Frantically he looked around taking in his surroundings. Well kept grass. Headstones as far as the eyes could see. Planted flowers. Everything was in order. Not a flower petal out of place. The place where his head had been caught his eye. Another headstone. Only it was blank. It didn't take him long to piece the puzzle together. Someone or something was sending him a message.
Something blowing in the wind caught his attention. Illuminated by a dim light, some form of cloth blew in the wind. As if it were calling him. Waving him down. His right hand found its way to his hip. It touched his belt and he froze. His hand patted the surrounding area. Nothing but belt. The man looked down to his side and found nothing. Not his rapier and daggers. No hand crossbow to be found. His eyes shot back up to the cloth. His reached behind him, and found nothing. Clearing his throat he started off towards the light. If he was going to be lost in a strange cemetery at night and probably be murdered here. He'd do it in the safety of his fathers cape.
I N V E N T O R Y ;;
Fine Clothing [[equipped]] Signet Ring [[equipped]]
c o m p a n i o n s ::"I hope there aren't others in this creepy place!" l o c a t i o n :: "It appears to be a cemetery, but how I n the hell did I get myself here? Is this what women fear when they go to bars alone?" o o c ::meet this dumb a** niggah!
DKrueger
Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2016 3:26 am
►JAQ'UUN "My friends call me Jax, well, they would if I had any friends..."
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Jax's still body twitched as it tried to writhe in the graveyard plot it had been left in. Sweat beaded its way down some of the scales on his face and despite the giant young Dragonborn's want to move and toss and turn: Nothing.
The reason that Jax was trying to toss and turn in his grave plot was because he was dreaming. He was dreaming of a time long since gone but that he would go back to if he had the choice. His tail usually swayed from side to side when he slept but today it didn't. Again, nothing. The twilight shimmered against his scales but he didn't move.
In his dream he moved though. In his dream Jaq'Uun the Musician Slave stood at his full 7'0" in his splendid performance robes. Blue and silver patterns made their way up his body as he played his harp. He knew this play. He actually knew this place really well. He'd played their often. It was his old Master's courtyard; he smiled as he watched the vines curl their way around the columns and the trellises. There was so much life in that courtyard, the Master had hired the greatest gardener slaves to make sure that he had the greatest garden to throw parties in. He'd even said that Jax was his second most splendid possession after his garden, it wasn't very often that you saw Blue Dragonborns sold as slaves (or any Dragonborns at all for that matter); it made Jaq'Uun and his mother a commodity to be shown off. It's why in his dream Jaq'Uun was wearing such fine robes: He was on display, nothing more.
Jax continued to make his way through the garden but as he did the fine clothes began to unravel and reveal his new less fancy garments. By the time he reached his destination, he stood in his peasants clothes - a free man - but his Mother looked him up and down confused. She smiled though. She smiled all the time when she saw her son. She used to anyway. She'd died a while ago and now... She was here. Jax dropped his harp. It made a clattered against the floor.""
Jax's Mother stood up. She was nowhere near as tall as her son but her tail still curled around her and found its way towards his chin. It tickled him slightly and he purred with delight as he thought about her and all she had been. All she still was to him. She spoke in rather raspy tones. Jax didn't remember that being her voice. It had been sweeter hadn't it? It had been wonderful and comforting. Not like this. Not like she was dying all over again...
""
""
Jaq'Uun woke up, glowing azure in the darkness. He was sat bolt upright, his eyes straining to see in the dark where there were no torches. He felt the ground, it was soft. His feet felt cold against the head stone. He looked around to try and get his bearings. What the in the name of all the Hells was going on? Hadn't he been busking for gold pieces in the Market Square? How had he got to a cemetery? Jaq'Uun stood up and towered over the gravestones around him. The one behind him was blank though. Was it meant to be for him?"I don't intend to die anytime soon."
Eventually, Jax decided it was time to leave and looking around saw something on the ground. It was his harp. It remained undamaged and Jax quickly picked it up. It was all he had left of his former life and he wasn't about to let it go for no reason. He felt his purse tap against his leg. It was quite heavy. Had he earned that much at the square? Nice! But now he had to get himself out of this damn creepy graveyard. Especially before someone saw a 7'0" blue person walking around and decided to attack him. It wouldn't be the first time."Hello!?"Jax called out as he made his way through the rows trying hard to avoid standing on the grave plots."Hello!? Is anyone there!? I thinking someone is playing a joke on me, could you let me out? Hello!?"
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*<> = Translated from Draconic
I N V E N T O R Y PP: 0 || GP: 140 || SP: 0 || BP: 0
E Q U I P M E N T Common Clothes Ornate Hand Harp
A T T U N N E D (0/3) Nothing
S PE L L S L O T S Level 1: ◊ ◊
Civil_Union
DKrueger
Rolling a Perception Check as Jax to see what he can see in this there Graveyard.
Dice Roll + 1 Wis Mod + 2 Proficiency Bonus = Roll
