[X] Beside the homes of the Singers, that its guardian may serve as their ally forever more
That's what Submerge Ship – Spell – D&D Tools is for. That covers the oceans of the Prime Material, as well as the Plane of Water.The only plane she could even go on is the Plane of Water and that would require Waterbreathing for the entire crew.
To say nothing of the fact that she would sink.
Where are we supposed to get the Dragonstone? We still can't make the stuff on our own.She is not that kindof isle, only 100% natural bouancy and we dont have lighter than air materials yet.
[X] Create a dragonstone coated floating pummice isle, proceed to use the gathered architectural knowledge of the Spheres to construct a fief and garden on the floating island. Plant the dryad among rare trees and herbs.
No, just that she is picky about the sailors.Didnt the update specifically mention how a dryad-ship wouldnt like sailors on her,
How else do you keep a lid on other-planar incursions and 'that ritual in this blood-dripping book sounds nice, lets do it' human ingenuity?
Hey! I take offense to that! []But seeing the vote goes to the "non-vocal" voters by the landslide, ah well.
But seeing the vote goes to the "non-vocal" voters by the landslide, ah well.
DragonParadox Can you tell us if the Singers have gotten any closer, to deciding whether they want to allow us to reincarnate people into their specie?
@DragonParadox, we're going to be getting this undead's skull, right?From the way the misshapen dark shape floated on the banks of the nameless muddy river they found themselves on it looked to be a corpse... one of almost familiar form. It was covered in dark matted fur and already wiggling with worms, leeches, or whatever other crawling horrors infested the land and water here, but still it had two arms, two legs, and even a recognizable expression of terrified shock on its flat low-browed face. From the belt still hung with crude stone tools, it was clear that this had once been a man of sorts, or at least the the closest thing these lands had to them.
The thought was abruptly cut off as the thing suddenly twitched into painful unnatural motion and began to drag itself towards the shore. Of course there were unliving too. Why would he ever think that danger would be absent? Bitter irony worked wonders in focusing the mind on the half-forgotten lessons of youth it seemed, for he was able to snare the thing with his will alone shaped by an invocation to lost Balerion's power, not wasting a spell in the process.
After motioning to his companions to stay their hand for a moment, the mage-priest asked the corpse its name and nature, without much hope for an answer, truth be told. Anything he could bespell thus was unlikely to have any wits to speak of.
The corpse surprised him by groaning something with a sense of purpose. Taking one long look around at his companions, out of which only the Westerosi seemed hesitant, and perhaps regretful for his call moments earlier. Malarys called a lesser blessing of speech, trusting the tether of control to the unliving to relay his thoughts.
"Lost..." the thing wailed. "Forgotten... Nameless..." Malarys suddenly hoped quite intensely that this thing would not be coherent enough to present some task for them to perform in order to lay its wretched soul to rest. Then it spoke yet a fourth word, one that echoed power through all the tongues of mortals and immortals both.
"Dragon."