Kuldahar
As Ug takes the first sip, he knows he is surrounded by true brothers.
The juice sizzles on the way down, and Ug feels a burning itch in every vein as the internal scars from Poquelin's poison flare up in response to the demon spider's blood. The influences of Tanar'ri and Baatezu war within the goliath, and mighty Ug gasps as his body becomes a battleground. But deep down in his gut he feels a power bloom. His senses become sharper, and his blood courses with eldritch magic. All at once the burning stops and is replaced by chilling ice. As the other tavern patrons watch, Ug's eyes begin to glow with a frosty pale light.
His blood settles and his eyes dim, but Ug knows that he will never be the same.
Whitcomb is not what he seems, and he knows that Ug knows.
Rolls
Survival (is whitcomb a threat) - (1d20+4)
(12) + 4 = 16
Hello? You in there, Ug? I asked, 'what are you going to do about it?' It's me. Whitcomb. Kind of. I'd appreciate you not telling these guys... Ug realizes that he actually is hearing Whitcomb's voice in his head.
"Where is he?" Her eyes are definitely showing anger now, at least. She looks ready to chew someone to pieces.
Rolls
Persuasion - (1d20+6)
(7) + 6 = 13
Ug gives a respectful nod and looks to Mirek. "Ug will only give to friends who promise to obey Ug. Potion is dangerous and Ug will not give if friends do not make promise.
The bartender watches the ordeal with a raised eyebrow, but seems content to keep taking coin and serving drinks.
When the glow fades from the eyes of the last to drink, there are a full dozen men who have taken the draught. They smile and nod as their companions cheer them on, but Ug can tell these men have changed. Hopefully it will be for the good of them and their loved ones.
As Ug leaves for the night, Whitcomb gives him a nod and a small wave, then goes back to polishing his mugs.
"That wasn't about Erestor, was it?" Al asks, checking the placement of her hood once more. She doesn't face him directly and instead looks towards Halla's disappearing shape, hoping that it will prevent Zenithral from seeing the left side of her face.
You thought you could do anything subtly?
"Why is it that when things happen, they happen all at once?" Alalla turns and looks Zenithral in the eye. A long scar crosses her eyebrow and cheek, forking and splitting like lightning or a web. The socket is an empty, angry red. "I ran into Gruumsh on my outing. He gave me a present." She stuffs her free hand in the pocket of her cloak and grinds her glaive into the ground.