Homestead Members:

@AngelFyre McCubbin | @Simon Kincaid | @Stephen Schwartz | @Miles Thatcher

Sprawling across the great mountains that towered over Tenūsa lay the most magical structures the isle had to offer. They were not just mere feats against gravity and physics but symbolic of the ever growing understanding of the island folk. They knew that tradition was important, and they would never forget, but acknowledging and respecting the past does not require binding yourself to it. No the Isle and its inhabitants were always looking to grow, to thrive. So while many of the older structures still sprawled across the jungle floor, these marvels carved into rock and crossed the expanses of the sky while never taking away from the natural beauty of the place.

One would think up so high that roots could not reach, that the rot that was beginning to engulf the jungle floor would be a distant problem. Such beliefs would be quickly realised as foolish. Everything in this island was connected. Being made out of magic itself many believed the island to be alive in a sense, and as such each and every part of it was one and the same. Much like a body, the infection could spread no matter the initial cut. This disease that was claiming the ancient haven seemed to be intelligent enough to use that magic, to guide it to where it wished to be. To guide it to the creatures it wished to take, and as such from the draping vines and tunnelled pockets their inky ichor appeared ready to strike.

Being in one of the highest points of the high houses where the mountain practically touched the sky had certainly given this group of visitors the advantage. After all they were the first point the sun managed to reach its golden rays. Roll: 17 Such natural protection potentially saved the lives they hadn't even been aware were in peril. Still the group would not be completely free from suffering as the distant screams and yelps from below echoed up rousing them from their dreams. Whatever was happening was some distance away but it stilled them none the less. Waking the group would find inky black tendrils beginning to seep into the top of their homestead seemingly searching. While it did not immediately look aggressive it was unpleasant as a sight and resembled a familiar plant in Herbology known as Devil's snare. What the group would choose to do would be up to them but get to close and they may not like what they find.

Moderation Note: You have all awoken or been awoken by another to see the dark vine tendrils making their way towards you. As stated they seem to resemble the magical plant devil's snare. Screams can be heard both from far below echoing through the mountains making it hard to pin point specifics while a few tendrils linger on the ceiling above you, what do you do?

FINAL MODERATION OF PART ONE
Standing in for Lawrence in this moderation round to end part 1 of the event!

The four in this High House (@AngelFyre McCubbin, @Simon Kincaid, @Stephen Schwartz, and @Miles Thatcher) seemed to need their beauty rest, for they slept soundly while the vines entered, and then while the vines left. Screams echoed out from below, and maybe they'd wake up... or not.

Having slept through the immediate danger to themselves, the quartet were free to leave as they wished, because as if bored by the dreamers, the vines shrunk back into nothingness and vanished seemingly into thin air. Perhaps the group could proceed to part two and meet up with the other residents of the High Houses... (if they woke up...)

Rolls:

Reducio

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