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Cephas posted:What do you do? E. Let's see what that story was that had Damien all torqued up.
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Jul 29, 2023 21:52
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| # ? Jun 10, 2024 05:55 |
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Jul 30, 2023 06:26
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[Commune with the vermin.] In a dead end corner of a darkened alleyway in the quietest neighborhood you can find, you meditate. The heavy smell of sewage lays thick here, and piles of discarded rubbish conceal your presence. You carefully draw your cloak out beneath you as you take a seat on the damp ground. How strange your appearance would be to any who could behold you—a one-eyed tiefling with pale blue skin, dressed like a barmaid, shrouded in a hooded cotton cloak, making communion in a filthy dead-end street. You have no need of sigils or crests or pentagrams, for the vermin are always watching. You simply sit with your legs crossed, hands palm-up in offering of a bit of meat. A rat comes, scurrying up your leg, and begins to feed on the table scrap. Soon another comes, and another, and another, until there is a small swarm of rats around you, each crawling over the next. The teeming mass of rats begins to take a composite shape. A body, now arms, now legs—a headless figure made of rats. A raven descends on the blind alley, lands upon the living sculpture’s shoulders. The rats rise up to accept it. Little rodent paws pull the raven down, its talons and its dark scaly legs descending into the mass of rats, so that its oily black wings rest upon the shoulders of the figure like a dark, feathered mantle. Rats for a body and a raven’s head. “Hail, Stolas,” you say solemnly. The raven-headed king opens its mouth wide. Nestled within its dark beak is a cold gray eye. Your eye. Rodent squeaks fill the air. In their reverberations you hear a deep and resonant voice. “What ho, child of mist?” What do you do? (Choose 2) A. Ask the occult king for power. B. Ask the occult king for secrets. C. Ask the occult king for advice. D. Ask to see the city through vermin eyes for a time. E. Offer praise to the occult king.
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Jul 30, 2023 17:22
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D, E. One has to wonder how this great vermin king has our eye. They must be borrowing it.
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Jul 30, 2023 17:47
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E, C
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Jul 30, 2023 22:04
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E C
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Jul 31, 2023 06:15
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[Offer praise to the occult king.] [Ask the occult king for advice.] “Wise Stolas,” you incant. “Many-eyed Stolas. Secret King with innumerable familiars.” The daemon tilts its raven head. Your eye inside its mouth stares at you, unblinking. “Come now, Mist-child. Thy tongue grows heavy with flattery.” “It is not flattery but honest praise, Wise King. I live only by your mercy, and so I give you my thanks.” “Art not Our peer, Cirrus Mist? Did We not proclaim it so upon that fated night? Yet thine heartfelt praise is duly received. Now We say again, what ho?” You ease into a more relaxed posture, letting your arms rest on your lap. Stolas has always been a beneficent being, though an inscrutable one. “I find myself lost. I ask you for counsel, Stolas.” Countless rat eyes turn their gaze on you. The eye inside the raven—your eye—keens its focus. Its vision penetrates you, seeing straight inside you, into those turbulent and unfiltered depths of which you are barely aware. What advice do you ask of Stolas? Each poster may ask one question.
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Aug 3, 2023 05:57
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Are the omens favorable for a job with the Guild this coming New Moon, or do the winds and stars speak of failure?
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Aug 3, 2023 06:50
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Where are secrets worth knowing in Rowangrave?
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Aug 3, 2023 07:01
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I wish to know whatever you can tell me about dragon nests at the Tor Mountains.
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Aug 3, 2023 10:45
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What is everything you know about the child of light?
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Aug 6, 2023 17:41
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How can we get a better job than loving barmaid?
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Aug 6, 2023 18:42
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[Many questions pour forth from you.] You sit in a trance. All you are aware of is the composite being in front of you, seeing through you as if you were a pool of still water. “Thou art brimming with questions, Cirrus Mist,” Stolas says. “Thy spirit is restless. Like a player grown tired of their role.” “How can I get a better job than loving barmaid?” you say, almost spitting the words out. There is deep vitriol in you, deeper than you were aware of. “A wounded bird, nursed back to health, now yearns for open sky. But art thou the sparrow or the hawk?” “As I stand I am neither. Neither free nor strong.” The memory of that night five years ago enters your mind. But the pain is far away, severed from you, replaced with a cold numbness. Words tumble from you freely. “In truth, when Sister Margrite’s head fell from her body, I thrilled at my own power. But I was nothing. Everything so easily crumbles into nothing.” “Is barmaid so bad, then? Roof over thine head, shelter from rain. A place within a system. Gates to keep out monsters.” Wisdom saving throw: Natural 1 Failure Your jaw trembles, your fingertips quiver in a light and ineffectual fist. You feel yourself blinking rapidly, not entirely under your own control. Stolas speaks. “The worst of thy pain dwelleth not within you. Not anymore. Thou art greater than this quivering child. Art destined for greater things.” Wisdom saving throw: 4 + 1d4 (Guidance) = 5 Failure You bring your arms close in to yourself, crossing them over your chest, and begin to whimper. All you feel is a shallow desperation and the meaninglessness of your own existence closing in on you. “Cirrus Mist! A Monarch speaks to you!” The squeaking of many rats transforms, their vocal chords contorting, until all you hear are strained rat voices squeaking thus: “A Monarch speaks!” “A Monarch speaks!” “A Monarch speaks!” Wisdom saving throw with advantage: 19 + 1d4 (Guidance) = 22; 4 + 1d4 (Guidance) = 8 Success You breathe deeply. Your body eases. Even your vision eases. You see again that you are in a narrow alleyway, and that Stolas, a powerful being, has assumed corporeal form solely to speak with you. “Am I destined for greater things?” you ask. “Each passing day, I feel my sense of self grow thinner. Temporary measures which once seemed like escape routes now feel suffocating.” “Thou lack thine own esteem. Think, Mist-child. What paths have thou to freedom?” “The Guild?” The words escape from your lips like a stowaway. “Are the omens favorable for a job with the Guild this coming new moon, or do the winds and stars speak of failure?” “Indeed, readily wouldst thou climb the ranks of artisans. Yet renown is for thee like the buttercup, gilded but poison. We hath spied the first of Batshila’s Flock and her accursed golden children proselytizing within the city gates. Make a name for thyself and thou shalt be found by that same enemy thou hast fled for so many years.” History check: 15 Success Batshila’s Flock. You know of them from hushed rumors in the tavern. They are a new cult of the Morninglord, yet they do not worship Lathander himself. Instead they sing praise of the True Child of Light, and flaunt their golden children, converting the desperate to their side during this new era of death and want. If Rowangrave City is letting fanatics like them through the gates, then they must have already converted some of the city officials to their cause. “Wise Stolas,” you say, “what is everything you know about the Child of Light?” The raven caws in delight. A booming laugh follows. “Thou art too bold by half to ask the King of Secrets everything He knows. Many are Our thoughts on the Child of Light, but shall share only certainties. We tell you true: the Child of Light is indeed divine, having flown here from Lathander’s heaven. Such divinity is rare indeed in all the Lands of Mist. This We speak true.” “Where does this Child dwell?” “In thine own home of Quietbell, of course. There the Child grows, and grows multitudinous wings. For such wings thou already knowest the cost.” You feel nothing. “Enough of this matter,” you say. “I wish to know whatever you can tell me about dragon nests at the Tor Mountains.” “Ah… The abandoned nests of the loathly worm. Know you the story?” History check: 18 Success “I do. In ages past, a fair maiden slept with a dragon. So enamored was the dragon with the girl that he learned a spell to let her become a dragon too. But instead it transformed her into a wretched and malformed worm. The dragon flung itself into the fires of the Cinder Isle, and the loathly worm hid itself in the forests of the Tor, where it laid clutch after clutch that hatched only into lindwurms.” “It seems the old maid hath grown fertile ever since the star fell. True dragons’ eggs she layeth now, though she be too addled to know it. Fear not a dragonflight, Cirrus—the unguarded eggs are but morsels to the beasts of the Tor. And treasure to men. Though We have spied stray wyrmling corpses in the woods, eaten by creatures of the night.” “It is passing strange,” you say. “The Child of Light. The return of monsters to the countryside. And even dragons. Stolas, where are secrets worth knowing in Rowangrave?” “Thou art surrounded by secrets. Hast thou walked through the green door three blocks from thine employment?” The sound of voices comes from just beyond the alleyway. All at once the rats scatter and the raven flaps its great wings, hovering in the air before you. Between disparate rat squeaks you hear Stolas whisper. “We depart thee with a riddle. How doth a wingless flea take flight?” Intelligence check: 18 Success “On borrowed wings,” you say. “Good. When next we meet, offer more than table scraps.” With that, the raven flies away, and the rats disperse. It is the afternoon after a sleepless night, and exhaustion washes over you. What do you do? A. Return home for the day. B. Seek the green door Stolas spoke of.
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Aug 7, 2023 05:59
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B. It's a door that's colored green, we must seek this rare sight.
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Aug 7, 2023 06:27
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A. We know the secret, let's get some rest and approach it fresh.
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Aug 7, 2023 11:46
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McSpanky posted:A. We know the secret, let's get some rest and approach it fresh. Agreed
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Aug 7, 2023 12:44
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Bold must we be
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Aug 7, 2023 22:22
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B
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Aug 7, 2023 23:52
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A Better to chill it out.
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Oct 18, 2023 10:37
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(Hi all, sorry for the unannounced hiatus. I got covid in August and it took a while to reconstitute from it. New update coming shortly!)
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Oct 18, 2023 13:53
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[Tiebreaker: Heads. Return home for the day.] You draw your cloak over your shoulders, patting off its accumulated alleyway dirt, and raise its hood to conceal your face. At first you intend to push ahead and seek out the secret green door Stolas spoke of. But under the heavy weight of your cotton cloak, a yearning to retire for the day pulls you back home. There are times when the city of Rowangrave astounds you, even in these darker days. The bustle of people, so different in demeanor and disposition, carried upon a thousand different waves of routine like notes set to a thousand different scores—it makes you wonder if you too are simply a note being carried along the musical staff of some unknown composer’s will. The city is hazy yellow, the afternoon sun diffused in hanging fog. So often, you feel weighed down by accumulated burdens you try not to acknowledge. It was good to commune with Stolas. Though a strange being, He at least understands you, He who bore witness to your death and gave you a second lease on life. A vermin king, wont to take pity on vermin like you. Your body, without thought on your part, ascends the staircase to your flat. You open the door and you are home. ——— Damien Fischer has gone for the day. The stench of the Stinking Cloud from early in the morning does not linger overmuch in the sparse living room. You kick off your boots, set them at the base of where your coat hangs by the entrance. Then you are quick to change out of your barmaid’s costume and into something simpler, a dark tunic with a bit of loose lace at the throat and a pair of soft trousers. The day grows into late afternoon, and your home is quiet. The living room is nothing special—a lounge chair for reclining, a table to eat at, and a bit of floor space reserved for Damien’s drum set. On the dining table, a chess board sits with its pieces mid-game, your latest match with Damien still unfinished. The kitchen is a narrow strip of counter space with many drawers. With a serrated knife, you slice off the end of a day-old baguette you bought from the nearby bakery. This you eat, buttered, with some dried fish, and from a dented metal cup you drink water that you have chilled with your touch. Outside the living room window, the stone wall of the building next door grows dimly gold from the sun’s steady decline. You withdraw into your bedroom, where your window offers the same sight. Lying in bed, you draw close to your chest the old owlbear cub plush that has somehow survived all these years. Though you really should go to sleep, you can’t help but pull something off your nightstand table—your commonplace book, bound in leather, which you keep always within reach. You open to a marked page and stare at it behind bleary eyes, soaking it in almost thoughtlessly.  It is the map, which you have rendered to the best of your knowledge, of the lay of the land of Rowangrave-by-the-Sea. An agrarian, peninsular land dense with forest, marsh, and rolling hill, with the Tor ridge lining its western coast. The North and Eastern Shrouds mark the uncertain boundaries of where the Mists are densest, obscuring passage to foreign lands without the aid of a canny travel guide. On the page next to the map are notes you have scrawled during your time in the city. Rumors Seekers in Moonlight A trio of knights in white overcoats known as the “Seekers in Moonlight” have been seen traveling the countryside. It’s only wishful thinking, but I still remember that mysterious woman from the festival telling me “You have potential.” Would she still say so today? Tomb of the Heroes It is said that at the southernmost point of of the countryside, there is a tomb where the heroes Aldric, Threnna, and Bjornmir were laid to rest. Legend says that Aldric was buried there with his magical sword, and that in time it would be bequeathed to a worthy hero. But since the arrival of the Child of Light, the tombs have been beset by ghouls. The Haunted Library I’ve heard that the Central Library has a rare book on exhibit, a magic tome that hails from the Spire Archive far to the north. The scholars of the Spire Archive are said to be keepers of eldritch knowledge. I’ve also heard that many floors of the Central Library are haunted, and that the city of Rowangrave has all but given up hope on exorcising the spirits. Firefall Wyvern Riders Freeblades in the tavern were talking about dragon eggs being found at the foot of the Tor mountain range near the town of Firefall. The Rowanwald forest at the base of the Tor is said to be home to dangerous beasts, but these freeblades said the eggs were worth a fortune to the wyvern riders of Firefall. Stolas informed me that some of these eggs have successfully hatched into wyrmlings. The Green Door Stolas told me of a mysterious green door only three blocks down from the Redcap Tavern. Our conversation was interrupted before He could speak more on the matter. I wonder what secret dwells there? Your eyes grow heavy. As sleep overtakes you, your sluggish mind clings to one fading thought. What path will you walk tomorrow? A. Find the Seekers in Moonlight. UNLOCKS MONK B. Travel to the Tomb of the Heroes. UNLOCKS ROGUE OR WARLOCK C. Get your hands on the magic tome. UNLOCKS WIZARD D. Search for a dragon’s egg at the foot of the Tor mountains. UNLOCKS RANGER E. Enter the green door Stolas spoke of. ???
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Oct 22, 2023 20:39
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E. I desire to explore the green door.
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Oct 22, 2023 20:45
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B Those heroes gotta have been loaded. Get them riches!
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Oct 22, 2023 20:56
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I dont remember our status, but am voting for B, anyways.
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Oct 22, 2023 22:00
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Dragons are always important to look out for!
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Oct 22, 2023 22:05
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E Mystery box
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Oct 22, 2023 22:12
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E https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUzr0AOwIhk
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Oct 23, 2023 02:59
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E What's behind door #green??
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Oct 24, 2023 04:47
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[Enter the green door.] Sleep does not wash over you so much as it drowns you. A sleep like death, like your death, there in the ruins of the past. You dream of black wings taking flight. Perception Check: 6 Failure Stolas is flying somewhere as you slumber. In your dreams, you have a bird’s eye view of Rowangrave. The sensation slips past you like sand through your fingers. ——— [Cirrus loses condition: Exhausted.] You wake reinvigorated. As you open your bedroom door, you hear a slight klink. It is the familiar sound of empty glass bottles strewn on the living room floor. You instinctively tread with care as you brave the wreckage Damien left in his wake last night. It is a sight to behold: a house party for two, spilt alcohol stickying the floorboards. The remains of midnight street food are strewn carelessly on the dining table. You are amazed you slept through it all. Insight check: 17 Success Did Damien have the foresight to incite that crazed old wizard’s impromptu fumigation before going on a filthy all-night bender? No—Damien Fischer couldn’t be so deviously shameless…. Right? Charisma saving throw: 5 Failure Old habits die hard, and you find yourself taking care of the mess despite yourself. You bend over and begin collecting sticky, ale-soaked bottles. You clean the uneaten food off the table. You work deftly and soundlessly, accustomed as you are to caretaking while others sleep. Your tail flicks. You feel a strange sense of sympathy for Damien as you quietly clean up the mess around him, sleeping there on the lounge chair in the arms of his newest boyfriend Georg, a furbolg with spectacles and a job with the city. There is something disarming about Damien’s complete openness, his ability to sleep in the living room in nothing but his underwear while shifted into the form of a slight shadow elf girl, all ashen skin and long, gothic charcoal hair draped over him and his boyfriend like a black satin veil. There is an expression of angelic repose on his face as he rests nuzzled into Georg’s furry embrace. It is, in any case, a Wednesday, and you do not tarry overlong in cleaning up the house, as you still need to get to work. Before you head out the door, you double-check your cloak to make sure you have your dagger with you. It’s there. ——— After work, you think on Stolas’s words. Hast thou walked through the green door three blocks from thine employment? In truth, in all these years you have kept your head down during your commute to and from the Redcap Tavern. It is a rough part of town—a district for laborers and vagabonds—and you have tried your best to avoid eliciting unwanted attention. You trace a path through the neighboring streets, the pawn shops and the backalley doctors, until eventually you find your goal. Situated atop a three-step stoop like all the rest around it, hiding in plain sight on a major throughway street, is a simple green door among a strip of storefronts. Blackout curtains cover the windows, preventing a view inside. But above the door there is a simple wooden sign hanging from a black iron rod. In an unassuming script the sign reads “Spirit Medium.” Something stirs within you, a feeling without a name. You knock on the door. From the other side you hear a muffled voice say, “Who is it?” Perception check: 17 Success After all these years, you still recognize the Vistani fortune teller’s voice after only one encounter. Or rather, it may be more accurate to say that, after all these years, Lias’s coy and lilting tone has not gone hard like so many of the voices of this city. “…A seeker of fortune,” you say. “Then lower your hood, if you please, so the spirits may see this seeker.” You do so. And the green door opens for you. In front of you stands Lias, the feylost traveler, almost untouched by the passage of time. Their pale blond hair is kept a bit longer than the last time you saw them, so many years ago. It curls in a loose bob that touches their shoulders, brushing against their pale gray shawl. Though there are some bags under their eyes, the fortune teller’s easy, playful expression remains much unchanged. As you stand at the threshold, Lias raises their eyes to meet yours. “My. You’ve grown taller. And… lost an eye, I see.” “Why do you think I need a seer?” you say. Lias laughs, a curled ball of a hand raising to their lips. And you laugh a bit too. The remark had just slipped out from you, casually. “Come in, come in. You can set your coat on the hook in the entryway.” The blood rushes to your cheeks as you realize you are still dressed for work. Charisma contest! Lias rolls 15. Cirrus rolls Natural 20! “I’m sorry, but I’m… quite chilly,” you say. Lias acquiesces. You make sure to fasten the inner clasp of your cloak to conceal your barmaid outfit. ——— You stand in what appears to be a two-story home, its first floor converted into what might be considered, very loosely, to be an office. Though it is by no means extravagant, the space is warmly decorated, lined with living plants that are nourished by wisps of dancing light. Nature check: 18 Success Far from being merely decorative, many of the plants appear to be herbal in nature. Allium and mugwort, holy thistle and poppy, deadly nightshade and rue. Despite the lack of sunlight, these appear to be prospering under Lias’s green thumb. “I have a pot of tea brewing,” Lias says, and steps around a corner lightly, and from the next room over you hear them call, “would you like a cup?” You say yes, and soon Lias is standing in front of you again, offering you a steaming cup of herbal tea. “To warm you up,” they say. Cirrus rolls Insight with advantage. Natural 1. Natural 20. You feel… Safe. You drink the tea, and though you were lying about being cold, it really does warm you up. In the taste of steeped flowers mixed with honey, a memory returns to you, a voice. If you mean to join our band, then you will be family. The honeyed drink and honeyed memory fill you with an overwhelming feeling of safety. You find it hard to speak, to find the right words, and so you simply drink deep of the warming tea, until the words appear on their own. “It is hard to believe,” you finally say, “that our meeting by chance so many years ago could prove so fruitful now.” Lias smiles. “It must not be chance, then,” they say, “but perhaps the spirits’ will. They say that souls in the Lands of Mist live in cycles, taking mortal forms over and over again, reliving their same desires and mistakes and passions. Perhaps the spirits guided us to a reunion." Perhaps they did. What could this reunion be if not a gift from Stolas? “But come, friend. Sit at my table. You said you have need of a seer, did you not? I am Lias, and I speak for the spirits. Come, sit and speak.” There will be time enough to discuss the rumors you’ve gathered. First, it’s time to catch up. How will you guide the conversation? (Pick 3) A. Learn more about Lias. B. Tell Lias about Damien and your job. C. Tell Lias about Stolas. D. Discuss the Child of Light and the return of monsters to Rowangrave. E. Ask if Lias has a roommate. F. Ask if Lias is single.
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Oct 26, 2023 05:44
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A, C, E
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Oct 26, 2023 05:49
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A C D
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Oct 26, 2023 06:24
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B D F
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Oct 26, 2023 06:46
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A D C
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Oct 26, 2023 11:45
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Oct 27, 2023 16:15
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A C. D
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Oct 30, 2023 03:32
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[Learn more about Lias. Tell Lias about Stolas. Discuss the Child of Light and the return of Monsters to Rowangrave.] Lias leads you upstairs, pulls you a chair and bids you sit at a small round table in a cozy nook by a window. They draw back the curtain and light spills onto the table. There, the two of you sit and drink tea and chat. The light plays on the surface of your tea, makes it glow, as a stray chamomille bulb bobs in the floral liquid with each warming sip. You ask what Lias is doing here—why they aren’t traveling with the Vistani band. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I am here because of that wretched night five years ago,” Lias says. “The Long Night.” Their eyes meet yours as they draw their cup up to their mouth with both hands. “Once you and your children left, and the full moon was out, I thought to have a little fun myself. And so I left the Vistani encampment and walked among the stalls and revelers. That was when shrieks filled the air. It was a nightmare, Cirrus. Dark riders tore through the fairground tents with steel blades. Dead hands rose from the soil and dragged people to the ground, where they were beset by beasts swooping in from on high, and from cursed undead rising from the earth below. “I ran for the encampment, but it was too late. Thaundry and the others had already taken off. I do not blame them. It was as horrid and fatal a night as any in all the Lands of Mist.” “I’m sorry,” you say in response. “That you were torn from your family so.” “It’s gracious of you to say, Cirrus,” Lias says. “Though truth be told, it’s a mercy they escaped. And a greater mercy still that I’m alive. I ran for the city gates, along with droves of others, and made it through before they closed the city off. As I imagine it was for you, too.” “Ah,” you say, and the sound lingers in the air. “Ah… Not quite.” You sit quietly, looking into your tea. You glance out the window at the city skyline, at smoke rising from chimneys. “Actually, I… well, I died.” Lias sets their teacup on the table, fingers still laced around the cup tentatively. You recount your sordid past, how your guardians took the children into the woods, how you tried to stop their sacrificial ritual and failed. How with a touch Father Velholme made your flesh rot and your insides putrefy, and how he left you there to die in those ruins. “Lias,” you say, “I know a secret hidden from mortal men. When a person dies, it is not like a candle being snuffed out all at once. It is more like embers fading. The last thing I saw before my sight left me was that strange infant, whom Father Velholme called the True Child of Light. I saw that child… its wings of blood. The memory is hazy. I was dead standing. “I cannot say how long I remained like that. Though I could no longer hear any sounds of the world, I heard the sound of blood—my blood—being lapped by small tongues. Though I could no longer feel, I felt the sensation of a beak tearing at my dead flesh. And then I saw something, not with my eyes, but through my spirit.” You close your eyes. The image is still fresh, has never left you.  Owl in a Gothic Window, Caspar David Friedrich, 1836. “He called Himself Stolas,” you continue, “and He took the form of a great owl at the time. Always He appears as some bird of ill omen. He apologized to me. He meant to sup on carrion, and He thought the soul would have already flown from a corpse as rotted as mine.” You think on your next words carefully. Lias sits transfixed, their expression grave. “Stolas, He… Offered me a bargain. For His breach of etiquette, He would bring me back to life, and grant me the protection of his vermin. In exchange, He wanted one of my eyes, so He could see into my past, and learn from it what He could.” “And there were no other conditions?” Lias asks. “None whatsoever,” you say. “In truth, I feel I take from Him more than I give. Though He always insists the contrary.” Lias’s expression softens to one of pity mixed with consolation. “Then it must be that he gained much from his bargain for your eye. Or, perhaps, that in his breach of etiquette, he violated some principle of his nature and had to repay you generously. But that is mere conjecture. Whatever manner of spirit he is, this Stolas of yours has given you a great boon. Does he not mind your speaking of him so openly?” “I don’t think He would mind, since He was the one who led me to your door.” You sip from your tea. Lias appears lost in thought. “Wings of blood,” they say quietly to themself, musing on your words. “It is the same child that is worshiped now in Quietbell,” you say. “Or so I have heard.” “Do you think, Cirrus, that this Child of Light ushered in the return of monsters to Rowangrave? In truth, I thought it queer that this land, of all the countries in the Lands of Mist, could be so peaceful. Perhaps that night five years ago only marked a return to normalcy, after a long period of quiet. But then, why a ‘Child of Light’ when these are such dark times? Ravenous creatures despoil the land. Diseases of the blood taint the countryside. The bodies of the dead rise from their graves, while their spirits haunt the living…” “If the Child brought monsters under its wing, if it is itself one of these monsters, or if it is wholly unrelated—I cannot say. Tell me, Lias, have you left the city boundaries in these five years? I have not. How dangerous is it out there, truly?” “I have, and often do. I make more money these days as an herbalist than a fortune teller, and so must venture out to obtain medicinal plants. During daytime, near the roads, the risk is minimized. Traveling with trade caravans grants extra protection from monsters, but men are a risk unto themselves. Especially for ones who stand out, such as you and I.” “What sort of monsters have you seen out there?” “By the roads it is mostly undead. Roving zombies, reanimated skeletons of dead highwaymen… To get the plants I need I must venture into the Rowanwald, and on such occasions I have a contact to help guide me. Why do you ask? Are you planning on leaving the city, Cirrus? I cannot blame you for wanting, but it really is the safest place in this country.” “I need to find a source of power, Lias. As I am now, I lack the strength to protect myself, much less anyone else. Each day the world seems to grow more dangerous, and I am whittling away the hours in a dead-end job. I cannot just sit idly by and await my death.” “What about this Stolas of yours? Would he not take you under his wing, make you his warlock?” “No—I have asked Him before. He said He respects me as an equal, and thus will not bind me as His servant. He insists I walk my own path.” “Another vexing mystery,” Lias says. “Sources of power, then? I can consult the spirits if you wish.” “Actually,” you say, “I have some leads. Several, in fact. But I am not sure which I ought to follow. Each path seems rife with danger. I was hoping you might lend me your insight, and if possible, your aid.” “Friend,” Lias says, “you are the only vestige of my old life I have left in this world. Of course I will help you.” The words fill your heart with warmth, gratitude. You clasp hands with Lias, there on the table. “Then I shall always do right by you as well, Lias,” you say. You show Lias your commonplace book, flipping to the page of collected rumors, and draw your finger over one line in particular. Which rumor will you pursue; which path will you walk? A. Seekers in Moonlight [UNLOCKS MONK] A trio of knights in white overcoats known as the “Seekers in Moonlight” have been seen traveling the countryside. It’s only wishful thinking, but I still remember that mysterious woman from the festival telling me “You have potential.” Would she still say so today? B. Tomb of the Heroes [UNLOCKS ROGUE OR WARLOCK] It is said that at the southernmost point of of the countryside, there is a tomb where the heroes Aldric, Threnna, and Bjornmir were laid to rest. Legend says that Aldric was buried there with his magical sword, and that in time it would be bequeathed to a worthy hero. But since the arrival of the Child of Light, the tombs have been beset by ghouls. C. The Haunted Library [UNLOCKS WIZARD] I’ve heard that the Central Library has a rare book on exhibit, a magic tome that hails from the Spire Archive far to the north. The scholars of the Spire Archive are said to be keepers of eldritch knowledge. I’ve also heard that many floors of the Central Library are haunted, and that the city of Rowangrave has all but given up hope on exorcising the spirits. D. Firefall Wyvern Riders [UNLOCKS RANGER] Freeblades in the tavern were talking about dragon eggs being found at the foot of the Tor mountain range near the town of Firefall. The Rowanwald forest at the base of the Tor is said to be home to dangerous beasts, but these freeblades said the eggs were worth a fortune to the wyvern riders of Firefall. Stolas informed me that some of these eggs have successfully hatched into wyrmlings.
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Nov 6, 2023 16:05
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Based on our scores from before dying (https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4036798&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=1#post533317388), I'm guessing we would make pretty bad wizards. I think Rogue or Ranger are the least bad choices. So lets get some eggs D
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Nov 6, 2023 16:44
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B
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Nov 6, 2023 16:54
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(Note from the DM: Compared to the Survivor statblock, Cirrus will become significantly more powerful upon unlocking a class. This includes ability scores.)
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Nov 6, 2023 17:00
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I see. Even so, sticking with my vote anyway
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Nov 6, 2023 17:10
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