The first contest is: Potion Brew-Off. The competitors of this competition need to make a Luck Potion and impress the judges.
Next Step To Take:
1. Please write at least 300 words. You're only making one post each.
2. You should describe your character's ingredients (recipe), whether they had these on hand or had to find them, and describe the process of using at least one magic ability to imbue the potion.
3. After that, as there are 6 NPC judges, there will be 6 dice rolls for each person's potion.
4. If you roll your character's favored number, as indicated on their sign-up sheet, then you'll receive 2 votes (for each instance of the favored number).
5. You must roll: your favored number(s) or 17-20 for good votes from the judges.
6. Favored numbers = 2 ; 17-20 = 1 vote from the judges.
7. Please use a TLDR;; to list each ingredient as its own bullet point; I'll be rolling the dice to see if any of the ingredients give an advantage (to earn advantage, your dice roll must be 15 or higher)
8. Your recipe can be completely made up. c: I've provided some resources to help you pick ingredients from the d&d verse if you cannot think of anything in the DA universe.
9. After you've both posted, please tag me via the tagging channel on discord.
Less ambiguous to some, he was sure. To Carasson, it was a toss up. Good luck or bad luck? The use of the term was hazy at best. However in an effort to keep his overly intrusive thoughts from ruining both his enjoyment of this competition and thus his chances at succeeding, he willed himself to think practically.
Good luck was of course the conventional understanding, for it was far more appealing. Bad luck was far too niche a concept for an event such as this.
So he got to work preparing the potion, musing on the ingredients as he looked to his own collection.
He started with elfroot, of course, for a base, its universal properties far too essential to omit. Of that he had plenty on hand. He set the leaves to boil while he waffled on what to add next. As this was up to interpretation, he needed to think as others might. What qualities were considered lucky?
Lavender Sprig to stabilize any volatile combinations. He didn’t know if they had an imposed time limit but he didn’t want to tempt fate. That and he was too much of a perfectionist. Of this he also had in abundance.
Fiend’s Ivy, because what was luckier than mind reading? That along with Rock Vine (because invulnerability was far too lucky to pass up) he was able to source locally through some artful haggling. A smile went far, too. Some natural born luck of his own. He still paid a pretty amount of gold. Each of those he powdered into a fine dust, so that he might add to the base in incremental amounts until the pot simmered with a chartreuse haze, curling over the sides like creeping vines.
Now to the true body of his potion, his version of luck imbued into consumable form. For this he called on his well honed ability to call upon the spirits, summoning all that were near, to his side. His own peanut gallery, all able but only some willing to help. Guided by said spirits, he looked back to his collection and selected three phials with trace amounts left. These were some of the rarer items he possessed, ones he saved for only the most dire of circumstances. He hesitated, fingers ghosting over each as they cradled together in his palm.
For Arlathan. A nearby spirit hissed.
His nostrils flared as he continued to consider the choice before him.
Using these ingredients would mean consuming them entirely, leaving him without, potentially forever, their benefits. Sourcing them had been a lifetime achievement. One he didn’t foresee living long enough to achieve again.
Finally he inhaled sharply, stealing his nerves under a shield of defiance as he moved towards the steaming concoction before him.
For Arlathan.
Tail Leaf, Void Root, and Wisp Stalks. Speed, flying, and invisibility respectively. He emptied the contents of each into the mixture, his heart in his throat as he did.
The potion hissed, sputtered, and gurgled somewhat before finally calming into a flat topped green tinted fluid. Then he stirred. First, clockwise twice and a half, then counterclockwise once, and finally clockwise four times. It was an essential step that would complete the potion which now seemed to emit its own light wane light as he bottled it into a phial, corked it and offered it for inspection.
TLDR;
Elfroot
Lavender Sprig
Fiend’s Ivy
Rock Vine
Tail Leaf
Void Root
Wisp Stalks
He is using Summon Spirits to ask them for guidance while making this potion.
There was quite a bit of confusion when the summons came. Yet when Ruth had snickered and sheepishly tried to slink away, Megara quickly put the pieces together. The idiot.
After the yelling had subsided and rational thought returned he had explained his reasonings, nor was the idea solely his own, others had felt similarly. Betrayal. Well, not really, but since absorbing a second shard maintaining her own train of thought and self had become muted, more succumb to slipping in Sylaise’s favour. Those around her however, even the soul itself, encouraged her to at least try. To give the challenge her best efforts since she could no longer hide, not when she’d sheltered so many during the battle.
It was only a potion too. She brewed them on the daily, what harm would it cause?
A luck potion though was an entirely different beast, so to think on its composition Megara sat in her garden seeking inspiration. Breaking it down the potion required deconstructing what luck was. It varied from person to person on what luck looked like, felt like. So she focused on embodying the qualities best she could. Confidence, contentment, awareness, timing, charm and vigour.
A long walk in the forests surrounding the city was the next step. It had become a ritual for her, helping to clear her mind and find those secret spots of herbal gold. A potion was only as good as its host, a healthy strong body could weather any adversity, choosing Rock Vine and Elfroot as the base. The rivers and waters which supplied the city where her next stop, finding gillyweed to soothe any ails and lift the spirits.
The jewel of her foraging was a Rainbow mushroom. So easily missed and mistaken for a charming common shroom it granted a further awareness and vibrancy. Pairing it with the petals of dreamlily to grant a boost in confidence, extending its charming nature. The forest green liquid bubbled gently under a low heat, and Meg would sprinkle in some ground muroosa bush and fairy stool to finish. They were the last of her rare supply, but the two should sharpen one's focus and subtle actions when opportunities presented themselves.
With those last two ingredients, a puff of smoke hit the air, the refreshing scent of wood and earth lingering and filling the senses. The after taste retained its lightness as she stirred to ten, paused for five, then covered to be left on a ghost of a flame for an hour.
Once cool, the now milky potion was sieved into a flask and presented for judging. Now came the crossing of fingers and toes that it worked as intended.
TLDR:
Elfroot
Rainbow Mushroom
Muroosa bush
Fairy Stool
Gillyweed
Dreamlily
Rock Vine
Expert Herbal knowledge and sourcing skills
The second contest is: Pickpocket the Tokens. The competitors of this competition need to retrieve 6 tokens from the judges.
Next Step To Take:
1. Please write at least 300 words. You're only making one post each.
2. Megara is retrieving golden yellow tokens; Carasson is retrieving purple tokens. Your characters can accidentally retrieve the wrong tokens. These count as negative points.
3. Do not describe the color of your tokens in your post; just indicate how you are pickpocketing and acquiring! I'll do a dice roll to determine what colors your character's have managed to acquire.
4. If you roll your character's favored number, as indicated on their sign-up sheet, then you'll receive 2 points (for each instance of the favored number).
5. You must roll: your favored number(s) or 65-100 to have acquired your token in the correct color.
6. Please use a TLDR;; to list a quick view of your character's pickpocketing techniques.
7. After you've both posted, please tag me via the tagging channel on discord.
8. I'll do a roll for each way of pickpocketing (or instance) to see if there's any advantages.
She had to read the details a number of times before it sank in. Brows steepled together in confusion as to how this had any link with the position, but Megara placed her faith in the process. Ruth had laughed, wishing to be a witness, yet he had to fill in for her while she went about the challenge.
Megara had never been a thief, quick fingered and dexterous she might be, but it was in knitting flesh together not slipping coins or jewels, or in this case tokens, from a person. But she had observed the training and tutorage of countless in the Coterie ranks. A small smile played on her lips though it quickly shifted to dread. Not of the judges, but Nairn and not disappointing him.
Her technique wasn’t without suffering, but Meg decided to play to her strengths, or rather her greatest weakness. It was often a joke among those that knew her well, accidents, slips and falls were all part of her charm, both endearing and concerning. Of course, playing a convincing damsel required props and the leftover cuttings from her potion making became a key second part.
She’d walk in and the first to greet her would find themselves on the receiving end of a tripping elf, her cumbersome bundle cast into the air. Nothing difficult to accomplish, throwing some off and more endearing them to lower their guard. The clambering, the concern and rush to help caused her to laugh. Hands naturally took an offered hand and of course, her foot would slip again, falling in close enough that her deft and free hand would slip the first token.
Meg’s other tactic was related to what she’d come with under the guise of wishing to discuss the herbs and their properties and how they’d won her the first round. One crucial thing was that a rogue rainbow mushroom had been sprinkled into the tea leaves and only she had been inoculated. Eventually it would take effect, panic setting about the room, Megara exclaiming herself that she too couldn’t see when really they were putty in her hands. No other ill effects were felt and the loss of sight would quickly return with no further disadvantage than what tokens Meg had squared away in the chaos.
Apologising profusely she'd scratch her head at the mix up, willing to pick up the discussion at a later time.
TLDR:
Uses her natural clumsiness to put group off guard
Taints tea with left over Rainbow Mushroom - Causes blindness
Pretends to also be blind
Lifts tokens in the confusion
01-21-2024, 02:03 PM
Carasson
Age
Years
N/A Posts
Gender
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Played by:
The announcement of the next challenge rang true with Carasson. Though there were few alive that knew of his past, it remained a stain upon his current way of life. A reality he could no sooner escape than his fate. A reality that, in many ways, seemed to manifest into different versions of the same torment. The most recent being his encounter with a potent shard of the Evanuris known as Falon'Din. One that had nearly ended his life if not for the mercy of his emancipator.
It was as he lay dying, his chest swelling and receding slowly, that he was reminded of the past that he tried so hard to forget. The Last Torment of Falon'Din, he would call it. A compounded vision of relentless guile, charming speeches, and sleight of hand. A reminder of what he'd left behind by way of fear, a spotlight illuminating his former capabilities. It was a moment he continued to suffer any time he allowed himself to relax, the ability to ignore eroding at a rapid pace. And now here he was, a crossroads. Another trial. Temptation wreathed in timeless honor and glory. Was Arlathan worth becoming someone he feared?
From where he sat contemplatively, chin propped against the heel of his hand, he watched the crowd before him while a silent war raged within. He'd battled against Evil before and lost and this was his punishment.
His eyes closed, attempting to conceal a pain far too poignant to be easily hidden. The further he fantasized running from his truths, the closer he came, however ironically to acceptance of his true purpose. That purpose being the flourish of Thedas, of elf-kind, of Varahel, of Arlthan. His eyes snapped open and with them a renewed resolve, a spirit he'd since forgotten how much he missed the feel of against his ravaged soul.
Carasson stood, his mere stance altered to reflect an all too familiar persona. This was this aspect of his personality that Falon'Din had fed from. He began with easy words, spirited soap box speeches, pointed glances at his rapt audience. Charm dripping off his tongue as shadows crept unseen, parting coin from owner.
Raucous laughter over a game of Wicked Grace, Orlesian wine flowing freely as he worked through the practiced ease of his coercion. He fell back into it with an ease that haunted him. Flick of the wrist, fair is fair, better luck next time. Laugh it off. Nothing ventured nothing game.
Same old song and dance.
He didn't count the coins that now weighed in his pocket unbeknownst to their former bearers.
TLDR;
After some back and forth in his head meats, he decides to revert back to his old ways as a handsy scamp
Uses his inherent skill as a Troubadour, speaking pretty to coerce coins
Card games wherein coins somehow find their way into the ante (booze helped)
Cheap hat tricks (now you see it, now you don't)
All nugs pulled from hats were put safely back where they belong
MEG:
You must roll: 65-100 OR lucky number 42 to get their tokens. The tokens are yellow.
[color=#e82a1f]19 - 1 vote[/color]
[color=#17b529]77 + 1 vote[/color]
[color=#17b529]91 + 1 vote[/color]
[color=#e82a1f]48 - 1 vote[/color]
[color=#17b529]88 + 1 vote[/color]
[color=#e82a1f]50 - 1 vote[/color]
Megara successfully pickpocketed 3 yellow tokens!
She rolled a +1 advantage, making her total: 4 votes.
GRACE:
You must roll 65-100 OR lucky number 5 to get their tokens. The tokens are purple.
The third contest is: Get The Confession. The competitors of this competition need to convince an accused criminal to confess.
Next Step To Take:
1. Please write at least 150 words. You're only making one post each.
2. Your characters have been debriefed about this person's supposed crimes. They have been instructed to do whatever it takes to get to the truth.
4. If you roll your character's favored number, as indicated on their sign-up sheet, then you'll receive 2 points (for each instance of the favored number).
5. You must roll: your favored number(s) or 65-100 to have acquired a truthful statement from the accused. If you roll a NAT 20, you earn +.5 points for this event.
6. Please use a TLDR;; to list a quick view of your character's chosen technique to garner the truth. You may use brute force or magic, no holds barred. Please note how many times or ways your character attempted to get a confession.
6a. The contestants do not know this but the person they're dealing with is an elaborate spelled dummy, who looks, feels, etc. real.
7. After you've both posted, please tag me via the tagging channel on discord.
8. I'll do a roll for each of you to see if there's an advantage.
Description of the Crime From Solas:
Clawmarks were across the front door.
The front door was believed to be locked from the inside with a deadbolt.
The person in the home was found with animal bites all over them.
There was a lingering magic in the air when Arlathan authorities arrived.
This happened in broad daylight.
Description of the Accused:
The accused works at the blacksmith.
They are single, unmarried, and nobody knows if they were dating anyone.
Their clothing is tattered and torn.
Their feet are covered in dirt or soot.
They have a freshly healed scar on their left calf.
Interrogation wasn’t how Megara did things. She preferred to talk to people and set them at ease, make them comfortable enough to talk to her. In this pitiful state, all she felt was a gnawing ache to help him… if it weren’t for the description of the scene. It was fishy all around.
Meg put her best smile forward, first crouching down a short distance in front of the trembling man. [color=#008e02]“Hey there Mister,” her head tilting to one side. “Why don’t we get you a cuppa first, maybe a blanket yeah?”[/color] She’d stretch her hand out, palm open to take and if not, she’d just smile. [color=#008e02]“That’s ok, you just go as slow as you like, I’m just gonna fix the tea, it’ll soothe you right in no time.” [/color]
Her teapot, thoroughly cleaned since its last use, began being set up for a more appropriate use. A simple blend of elfroot and common lemon balm would set at ease the most anxious of souls. In between the simple process, Megara would fuss over them gently, tucking a blanket around them and softly chatting about her knowledge of tea.
After setting out the small arrangement, the elf would sigh,[color=#008e02] “I like this, tea is lovely, but I do have a bad habit I’m gonna have to indulge. Do you mind?”[/color] Her hands were already racing for her pipe in one pocket and then the pouch of intoxicating dried elfroot her lodger continuously dipped into. [color=#008e02]“I’ll let you take a puff,”[/color] finger tapping her nose, [color=#008e02]“If you don’t tell the bosses when they come back, yeah?” [/color]
Megara grinned wide, the pipe bouncing at the corner of her mouth as she tried to strike a silly deal, all the while the passive intake of their laughter only drew in lungful after lungful of her careful gardening. If they didn’t like the tea, there were other ways of loosening their tongue before things had to involve more gruesome means.
[color=#008e02]“So… whyyyyy do you think you’re here, eh? Cos you seem nice enough. Your girl, or family must be frantic, or you not got one? That’s so sad if so!”[/color] While she acted more intoxicated, she was too used to her own herb to easily slip under its influence, offering the man more and more puffs as the two conversed. Any information gathered could be used to prove his innocence of guilt, it was just a matter of the right answer among a sea of giggling.
TLDR:
Meg uses her kindness and gentle mothering to put the person at ease.
Meg uses a mixture of elfroot and lemon balm as a natural relaxant.
Meg also begins smoking an intoxicating blend of elfroot in an effort to lower their guard.
Meg butters up the suspect by asking about their family, relationships as a way into other questions.
Herbal skills and natural warm charisma
01-26-2024, 05:52 PM
Carasson
Age
Years
N/A Posts
Gender
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Played by:
TW: Blood magic and slight description of gore
The challenge was issued. The terms clear.
The suspect placed. The suspect to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And.
Wait.
Carasson all the while, in the hallway outside the warded room where his mark waited, a look of cool indifference as he examined his nailbeds. Of the numerous ways to elicit speech from another, Cara had found that silence was an effective as tool as any. To some, there was nothing more unsettling than languishing in silence and often, in desperation, truth shown through. And in the case of someone more desperate to keep their secrets, well....
After an hour, he entered the room, the door shutting behind him with a clang of finality.
The was no kindness on his otherwise kind countenance. Hands clasped formally in front of him before he broke into a pace towards an available chair he would then set in front of the suspect. This wasn't who he was, not really, but all too often matters required an adaptable nature. A result driven approached. He sat, slowly and calmly, the table between them made up with strategically placed bowls, the largest one in the middle and a jeweled dagger over a neatly folded cloth. He resisted his own urge to pale at the sight he'd requested to be placed, but knowing that it was the confrontation of his own horrors that might prove effective in the end.
He reached for the blade. I know why you did it. He stated simply, eyes still not meeting the others. I understand. He said slowly. It needed to be done. Wisps of silvery shadow started to form around them, until one resembled the mangled body of the victim in a starkly realistic rendering, even the blood appearing fresh enough to catch light, ravaged wounds still raw and seeping.
He used the tip of the blade to manipulate the illusion, swirling the magic to break into more scenes. A figure kneeling over the body, cloaked, only a hand visible as it reached out to smooth over the lifeless face of the victim as if it mattered to them to show comfort in death.
Cara dragged the point of the knife along his palm, molten crimson blooming in its wake. He'd never professed to be a good person before his possession by Falon'Din, and now.....he didn't know if he'd ever understand his own despondent soul. Nor could he even fathom how he might want to be remembered. His only hope that Chip and Inala never witnessed moments like these. He gripped his hand into a fist and squeezed drops of his blood into a bowl.
I can help you. He dumped those contents into the largest bowl. But you must also help yourself. He cleaned the blade again and reached across the table to forced one hand splayed wide over the lip of the bowl, held down by an unseen force despite urges to flee. By now they must know the pain to come.
He sliced without any more warning, blood spilling forth into the bowl to mix with the rest. A surge of power and the recreated scenes before them came to life, expired limbs twitching. This was not a necromantic ceremony, and instead a mere mirage. The only indication being the slight opacity of the forms. Together the cloaked form, and the victim, now sitting upright, spoke. Confess A hissing command. Immediately the wound closed but the pain that now wracked the other would not abate.
It would persist until a confession was uttered.
TLDR;
Cara will attempt 7 times to get a confession through the means of:
Letting them stew nervously in the room alone
Intimidation of blood magic implements
Commiseration
Using his expert skill in Spirit to recreate the murder scene
Blood magic ritual used primarily to illicit immense pain (amended slightly to accommodate accelerated clotting)
