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You have been summoned by SEER to a private room in the Red Sheaf Inn and Tavern in Beregost. SEER, a female Shou mage of no small talent, has taken up temporary residence in this high-cost traveler's sanctuary, far from the relative safety of Baldur's Gate but still very much under the watchful eyes of both her Lords' Alliance employers and the Flaming Fist - the organization tasked with keeping law and order in Beregost. SEER is an agent of the Lords' Alliance, but it is obvious that she only truly answers to herself. The meeting begins in the early morning. "Visitors, ah, yes, good. Very good." A wizened Shou woman enters this private meeting room and makes her way around the long ebony table. With a grace that would defy her apparent age, she seemingly at once takes a seat and makes a silver platter with a steaming tea pot and eight delicate cups appear. The room instantly smells of a heavy mix of mint and cinnamon. She motions to the tea cups, which are all somehow immediately filled. "So we meet again. But more importantly, I have need for you lot once more and an interest in what lies before us. As we begin, might we all share some pleasantries?" SEER takes a moment to engage in conversation with you, asking you about things from your past you're quite certain you've never shared with her. After some time at this she gets down to business. "It has come to my attention that Baron Rajiram, a cloud giant of well-earned ill repute, has turned his vision in-land for once. While historically he has focused his attention on the Sword Coast and the ocean, the Baron has begun mobilizing his forces in an effort to breach Durlag's Tower. The Lords' Alliance, would like you to ensure that this does not happen - and we will reward you handsomely for it." As SEER speaks, a small, golden pseudodragon with milky, white eyes fades into view snuggled around her shoulders. They share a series of rapid facial muscle twitches, after which the beast wraps itself tightly around SEER's shoulders and dozes off to sleep. "Hsing tells me that our situation is escalating, and our previous timeline is no longer correct." She sighs, swirls her tea, and continues: "I do so loathe it when they don't respect the rules of the game. Giants. Psh. Impetuous, no matter what they say about us 'small folk'." OOC @cheezal @Djacob91 @Dmitri_Ravenoff @omegoku @8w_gremlin @Sylas Once again, let's remind each other about your characters with an intro. Once everyone has posted we'll move along. Feel free to ask questions of SEER as well.  

ピレ (THE PYRE)   After crossing Cougar Creek, it takes the group a little less than an hour to reach the their destination, first following Lost Coast road and skirting Ashen Moor along the edge of the coast, then skipping into a smaller path a bit less travelled when the main road turns south away from the water.  The path winds its way around and up the side of a small hill, then down into a valley after passing what looks to be a hastily abandoned campsite, after which it finally opens up to the coastline once more as it ends in a small plateau at the edge of a cliffside.   [[ Mood Music ]]   An archway of stone is set into the side of a small hill at the otherside of the plateau from the edge of the coast, overlooking the Varisian Gulf.  Moss has overgrown many of the details, but one is still quite clear.  The keystone of the arch is carved with a flame symbol with a stylized rune in the middle. Beyond the archway is a darkened tunnel that leads to a pair of massive wooden doors, one of which is slightly ajar.   A pair of horses and a trio of ponies lie slaughtered next to the archway, each corpse still tied to a post set into the ground nearby.  A swarm of flies hangs lazily in the air above them.

Music: Autumn Ale - LOTRO Soundtrack The Prancing Pony - Winter 2947 T.A. Ere long, a chill in the air settled across Bree-land, signaling the arrival of winter. As the air grew colder, young Tomas Heatherton grew bolder, desiring more and more to recover his late uncle's buried fortunes in the Midgewater Marshes. It was a relatively simple matter of gathering the rest of the Company, though Fletcher proved to be the most elusive. None among the remaining members of the Company knew where he had wandered off to, yet when the time was right, he stepped through the door of the Pony, his dark cloak covered in a thin layer of snow. "Ah, good, we're all here! Are we prepared to leave? I've not found anything else of note on the map, though I can't quite say I know what the Black Barrow or the King's Chair are." Tomas asked, once everyone had gathered in the Pony. OOC Roles for Journeys GuideIn charge of all decisions concerning route, rest, and supplies. Guides rely on Wisdom and Survival proficiency. - Prudence ScoutIn charge of setting up camp, opening new trails. Scouts rely on Stealth and Investigation. - Fletcher HunterIn charge of finding food in the wild. Hunters rely on success with Survival checks. - Orn Look-outIn charge of keeping watch. Look-outs rely on their abilities in Perception. - Léofwyn OOC: Welcome back, everyone! Go ahead and narrate your return to Bree. When you do, please roll a Wisdom (Perception) check if you are proficient in them. Let me know if you have any more questions about the map. If you wish to examine the map further, please go ahead and roll an Intelligence (History or Lore) check. It may be good to summarize what you already know before setting out. Roll20 Map To Post: Everyone! @codexgigas @Grendel @Papa Bear @grimlock

This is a continuation of the thread from the Old MW site: https://og.myth-weavers.com/showthread.php?t=543816 Icewind Dale: Open Tundra 18 Kythorn at 1pm-ish; Illumination: Exterior - Dim; Interior: Dark Weather: High Winds OOC Finishing up the session break...  

"There’s beauty hidden in the darkest of places. Too bad no one can see it there." — Sosiel Vaenic, Cleric of the Fifth Mendevian Crusade       Once underneath Weeping pond, T'Sarra finds it rather easy to hold her breath and find her way, leading the rope as she swims ahead of the others in the brackish, sulfurous water. Though the murkiness of the pond makes it somewhat difficult to see, it doesn't take her very long to find a the submerged waterway along the northeast face of the underwater escarpment, about fifty feet from where they had entered the water.   Though the underwater stream through the tunnel is fairly placid, it does wind through a slightly sinuous path, and the lack of light makes this part of the swim a particularly daunting challenge, as now the tiefling is restricted to not only relying on her darkvision, but also for trying to see through a semi-cloudy body of water.   The tunnel goes on for another maybe forty or fifty feet, until finally clearing upward to a bitter air pocket stinking of mold and vinegar that leaves an unpleasant flavour in the mouth.     Here, dampness hangs in the air of the lightless cave, condensing into heavy moisture on the slick stone walls. The calm, dark waters wind around the corner northwards, then again to the east further up north along a stony, soot-scarred beach. A five-foot high ledge sporting several stalagmites rises to the east, beyond which a low-ceilinged cave beckons.     [[ Map — Black Hill Caves ]] (( Everyone who has touched the water please roll a Fortitude save immediately. ))

Reference t an old thread for posterity: https://og.myth-weavers.com/showthread.php?t=543816

Reference to an old thread for posterity: https://og.myth-weavers.com/showthread.php?t=507582

A reference to an old thread for posterity. https://og.myth-weavers.com/showthread.php?t=507220

"The first time I seen that purple fire shoot up into the sky, it liked to scare all my damn goats. They started bleating something fierce and then they up and bolted straight through the pen, knocking down half the posts. It took me two days to get'em all together again and back in the pen, and after that the nanny goats wouldn't give milk for a week. And the goats weren't the only ones frightened to hell! I shot up out of bed and darted to the window as the ground rumbled — I got tangled up in my blankets and damn near fell flat on my face! The sky was cloudy that night, and that purple flame lit up the whole thing in an eerie glow. I thought them demons from up north had attacked us for sure." — Old man Cogsburn, local farmer     18 Arodus, Moonday. Another day and a half of travel from Blackpipe, you arrive at the outskirts of the town of Torch just after midday, bringing the clouds with you. Most of the morning had been just partly cloudy, progressing into overcast in the past hour.   Approaching on the road from the south along the east bank of the Seven Tears River, the first thing you might notice is the distinct lack of a purple column of fire atop the blasted and charred top of the bald escarpment rising at a steep slope in the middle of town. The violet flame that has burned for a century atop Black Hill, which essentially birthed the town and gave it its name, having been Torch's primary economic driver for the last hundred years, is now conspicuously missing. [[ Mood Music ]]   After passing several outlying farms in the valley, the road takes you across base of the hill, over the beginnings of the main stem of the Seven Tears, then up to the plateau where the majority of the town's buildings are constructed with stone walls under roofs of ceramic or stone tiles, with the larger ones reinforced with metal.   The closer you get to the town, the more it occurs to you that something is greatly wrong. There's occasionally a few pieces of garbage floating down along the river, a townsperson is clutching their abdomen and hacking up a dry wheezing cough as he passes by, and a distinct smell of garbage and filth as you begin to enter the town itself.   Torch, for whomever calls it home, most definitely does not seem well at all.     [[ Map — Torch ]]

Sho Pahl's Heavenly Tea House An Open Roleplaying Area for Celestial Travelers In the world we know, doors have a finite purpose: they serve to connect two divided spaces. No more, no less; and no matter how many times you open a door, it will always take you to that same, single place, then back again. It is a mundane constant, something that no one really thinks about; they simply trust it as fact and go on about their lives, never minding that it could be anything but what they expect... ...but this rule is only true of doors in the realm of mortals. To the spirits of the celestial heavens, a door is not so simple. To the practiced traveler of realms beyond, a single door can lead to a thousand and one different destinations, each limited only by the power and creativity of those who choose to open them. [floatleft][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9d/e4/ae/9de4aeb10dcb6b56408a7d41074154c5.jpg[/img] [center][size=2]The Heavenly Teahouse of Sho Pahl, dragon kami of stories and legends.[/size][/center][/floatleft] The Heavenly Teahouse of Sho Pahl, dragon kami of stories and legends. Thus do spirits and demons alike tread effortlessly through the Endless Expanses, seeking all number of truths, treasures, and travails. Yet no matter how many different places they see, few are as dearly remembered as a certain minor realm belonging to a particularly powerful ryuu-kami. When one enters the fabulous realm of Sho Pahl, the enigmatic 'Fate Spinner', they are greeted first by the aroma of a mellow, floral incense which pervades the whole of the space. Golden-brown wooden floors appear to gleam as is freshly lacquered, while slatted paper windows in the much darker walls cast a perpetual stream of light of an eternally rising (or perhaps forever setting) sun, masked by a thick blanket of fluffy clouds and ephemeral, far-away mountains. Shadows of leafy, flower-filled trees, too, dance against the yellowed paper dividers, alluding to a world beyond that one will never behold. Here, one must remove one's shoes and coats, as well as their grudges and woes, replacing them with simple wooden sandals that sit in a neat line atop two small steps, wash their hands in the ever-flowing basin, and then enter the building proper. A chime sounds as one passes through the circular archway, hearkening a strange warmth as the teahouse's patrons turn to greet newcomers, offering seats aplenty at small curved tables that encircle a great pool of water, in which one can spy several lotus blossoms floating atop it and numerous koi fish of exotic colors swimming within. On approach, the pool shimmers in the light, giving the waters themselves a tinge of amber hue. Sitting down, one gazes about at the artful décor: large, solid wooden pillars with intricate, classical designs in Far Eastern-stylings; small, fat pots from which sprout twisting bonsai of elaborate coils and lush leaves; and thin vases filled with neatly arranged flowers. All this and much more, arranged in such a way that every facet has its own space and place of prominence, and the wandering eye is transfixed with even the slightest movement. Spirits. Demons. Demi-creatures. Great and small, powerful and not, all gather together within these walls to share in the revelry of food, drink, and story, forbidden by the dragon kami from violence. [floatright][img]https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53156876957_6b4e9f61e5_o.png[/img][/floatright] It is strange company, to be sure, but none can compare to the proprietress herself, who after only a short wait appears next to the table, holding a wooden tray. Atop it sits a basket of simple wheat treats and an elaborate tea set which always seems to be in the most pleasing colors to the one who beholds it. Already the steeper is filled with piping hot water, and several cups stand ready to be filled alongside tiny bowls with various admixtures of tea leaves and spices ready to please the lips of those who partake of them. She--the enigmatic dragon, Sho Pahl herself--is distinctly tall and long of leg, though much of her form is all but consumed in a long, slender dress that is gold, brown and green, leaving her milky arms to protrude out of draping sleeves marked with a number of short haikus. Her face is of porcelain--barren of blemish and imperfection save for the red mark upon her forehead--and her golden eyes peer down upon her patrons from beneath pale wheat hair that fountains down her shoulders and back, crowned with a pair of twisting horns and a number of curious golden floral hair ornaments. She gives each newcomer the ever-so-slightest of smiles, but remains silent, and sinks down to her knees so as to gently place the tray on the table. There, she prepares the tea exactly as each patron requests, though in addition to what they choose to add to their drink, each also gets a tiny spoonful of a glistening yellow sap that immediately disperses into the liquid--Ambrosia, the so-called 'nectar of the gods', though in reality it is little more than a rare honey that grows only in Takaamahara's highest peaks. Lastly, she leaves a single brown coin beside each cup. Looking down into the pool, one can see numerous coins just like it resting at the bottom--each a blessing...but for what? And as if to answer the question as it springs to mind, Sho Pahl takes some of the tea in the pot into her hand, pouring a small stream into the great pool before. The water begins to shimmer, emitting a soft light which then grows to encompass the whole and revealing a scene...and then, an image...a face...a...mortal face. Ah...so this is it then...one of the greatest treasures of the dragon kami beside her magical paintbrush. The Well of Tales. A scrying glass that gazes down upon mortals during the most important moments of their lives, that the celestials might watch over them and grant blessings to those worthy. Thus the purpose of the coin, too, revealed. The act of throwing the coin into the pool itself was the blessing, imbued with the thoughts and wishes--and perhaps a little bit of power--of they who tosses it. "Enjoy..." she finally speaks in a voice that is haunting and unearthly, like several tones mixed into one, but blended in a way that was harmonious and singularly unique. She offers only this single word before she stands, moving in such a way that it seems like she is gliding across the floor to a long, wooden string instrument in the corner. Here she kneels once more, her nails lengthen slightly, and she reaches down, plucking one of the strings. This releases a hollow reverberation into the room, and then another...and another. The melody of song soon becomes evident, one that befits such an ancient and regal realm as this. A stranger, more magical place few will ever know, yet for a weary and lonely traveler of the realms, it is a little known secret paradise, tucked away in the folds of countless realms, where one can simply come and enjoy good tea and cakes, good company among friends, and fascinating tales of the mortal realm. A place of austere peace amid a torrid beyond. Such is the Celestial Teahouse of Sho Pahl, the dragon kami of stories. So come...and but for a moment, let go of your troubles to bear witness of the next grand tale, through the mirror of fate. Open Roleplay Rules Welcome to the Open Roleplay area for Glass World. Sho Pahl's Heavenly Teahouse is an inviolate space in which observers and readers may interact in the form of celestial spirits who have come to the Teahouse during their travels at such a time as to witness the story that is currently being played out. So long as you are not a player in one of the Glass World games, you may participate in this role-play, which has no plot nor purpose other than to be an in-character discussion of the events transpiring in the mortal realm. You may appear within the teahouse in any form you desire, and as often--or not--as you wish to. In addition, you may develop your identity as much as you like, from history, to relationships with others. Perhaps you are a deity, a kami spirit, a yokai, or something quite unknown. Nevertheless, while you are here, the formless has form, and the imperceptible is visible, and regardless of what relationship you may have to the others around you, this is a place of peace, and you will find swords unable to leave their sheathes, and magic intended to harm or hinder will fail to manifest. In addition, you are each provided with a single brass coin, which symbolizes a blessing. You may throw this coin into the pool at any time you wish, naming a recipient (a player-character in the game) who garners your favor. This character immediately receives a free re-roll (taking the better of the two rolls), to be used on a roll that they have just made or a roll that they are about to make. You only get one coin per game, but you may continue to be involved in the roleplay even after you use it. However, you may not otherwise interact with the mortal realm and with the story being told in the scrying pool. Beyond this, please feel free to interact with the teahouse and the other denizens as you see fit, but if you choose to leave the teahouse, your part in this narrative will end till such a time as you may choose to return there again. I will occasionally play Sho Pahl, though of course my focus will always be on running the game. I hope you enjoy the experience! Let's have fun!  

Hello everyone. I wrote a Degrassi/Dungeons & Dragons Crossover Story called Whatever It Takes at Wattpad a while back. It about six teenage heroes from the Degrassi Universe as they live in the Dungeons & Dragons Universe as they fight against demons from invading their world.   Here's the link of the crossover story: https://www.wattpad.com/story/324248051?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=AndreYdolly&wp_originator=f%2BIGvRR25vezYy%2BAXJl8sROJfqRYIOitzN%2B%2FLWtAprW0v6TR3h%2FqLc5j%2BSTQ5BCrliLd%2BG432cdfM6hswIJ2QcOpHsl2VYzrWliJ05RUcgY1UHQz0S49xhMMDe47Ffi5

Scene Break Due to extenuating circumstances, this game was forced to transition to Baldr sooner than anticipated. This is a continuation of this OGMW story thread. For a succinct and compelling summary of this adventure's premise, please read the very first post of that thread where Nihlia lays everything out, and then return here.   kr-KRH! The massive doors of the dungeon slid back together, shutting out the howling and crackling of the storm outside and reducing it to a muffle. You had entered the massive chamber of a natural cavern - an abrupt switch from the manmade nature of the entrance behind you. The heat had risen another notch, making the temperature outside seem like blessed shade on a hot summer day in comparison. It was obvious why: most of the chamber was a veritable lake of lava, slowly roiling and flowing in eddies and channels. …But then, there was something manmade about the inside: there - hanging from between the stalactites with their pendulum ends slotted into the walls - long mechanical arms reached down, down, down until they would nearly touch the lava at their lowest point. These metal beams gleamed brass in the light… and ended in comically large circular saw blades. As you looked around at the tinkery and machinations threaded both subtly and not-so-subtly through the cave, you noticed something strange at the edge of the lake: a platform, roughly hewn from a slab of quartz, as wide around as the fountain of a large city plaza. ...A platform littered with corpses. Corpses sliced in half, and corpses burned alive until all that was left was a charred husk. A few of them rested on a mechanism rising from the center of the platform: a brass wheel with paddles for cogs and a handlebar on either side. Well, at least there was nothing immediately dangerous about the room.

Rock World This world had a stark beauty with a field of orange-red rocks against a deep blue sky, the sun in the sky was bright but a little smaller than back home and it didn’t seem to cast any warmness down on the planet. You seemed to be on some sort of Mesa, a challenging climb to Jane’s eye, allowing you to see any threats coming from quite a distance, though there didn’t seem to be any life as far as you can see.   “As far as I can tell life never evolved here, that might be why time runs slower here, nothing ever happens here.” Fiona offers as an explanation   Turning a corner you see a small lean-to full of supplies and a seating area around a small well-stocked fire.   “I think it a wise idea to allow these people a chance to recover from their traumatic experience…” it was a statement, not a discussion “… and I have something I need to borrow some of you for another important task.”   She quickly gathered together a team and left on this mission, allowing the rest of you a chance to see the effect from the other side, with them seeming to glitch and blur before just disappearing as if there was just a screen wipe on reality. You were disappointed that there weren’t any sounds involved, there should have been something like a pop or something.   Rachael meanwhile was getting some interesting information from her psychic readings, the security guard was a blank they just seemed to disappear from the DMV and appear on the mud island. Linda was a different matter however, she seemed to have echoes of the demon, feelings of pure hate towards your kind through the purity of the feeling, and the distance, making it difficult to get anything further. Quick pause as we wait to see if we get any new people, and clear out the old! A good chance for everyone remaining to talk about there experiences, especially as no one's really discussed what they've seen so far.

"Walk the soil.  Feel the breeze kiss your skin and taste the crisp spring waters.  Hear the rustling grass of the plains and see your next victory on the horizon.  That is what it means to be truly free." — Soyka Tenkiller, Ghost Wolf tribeswoman       After navigating the tracks through the thick prairie pastures for almost an hour, they finally come across a road of sorts, not something that's been marked by the laying of gravel or aggregate perhaps, but definitely well-impressioned by frequent use.  Tracks, bootprints and ruts clearly delineate the passing of sufficient vehicle and foot traffic, and the surrounding reeds and bushes have not grown over into the well-trodden soil of the roadway. It doesn't take too long for some passersby to come along and point the way to the nearest spot of civilization, and the group learns that they are about ten miles or so out from Hajoth Hakados, where most of them last rememebered they had been, prior to waking up in the cultist lair.  From there, it takes a couple more hours to reach a place where the road seems to follow to the left of a river that's at least a hundred feet wide.     The sky is already completely dark as the group nears the edge of town, where a grand, engraved stone wall protects the properties and residents within.  To the left of the gates is a small grove and some outlying buildings, overlooking some plots of farmland.  On the other side, a stone bridge stretches over the shores of the Sellen River, with more scattered buildings on the opposite bank.   This, is Hajoth Hakados, "The Velvet Caress of the North".     [[ Map — Hajoth Hakados ]]

Music: Day in Combe - LOTRO Bree-land - Fall 2947 T.A. Now that the Company has returned to Bree, and Tomas Heatherton is taking time to rebury his Uncle Tim and prepare for your expedition into the Midgewater Marshes, each of you takes time to yourselves and your own preparations. Life returns to normal, albeit with the promise of adventure to sweep you off your feet at a moment's notice! As such, the role of narrator turns now to you all. Please, describe for us what your character gets up to in the last days of autumn this year, and what significant Undertaking they either seek or seeks them in this time. @codexgigas @Grendel @Papa Bear @grimlock

Abraham Broder's house sat just outside of Charleston proper in the town of Summerville, so it took a little less than an hour to reach it from the hospital. It was now getting to be late afternoon.   Broder's house was a modest affair in downtown, just up the street from Summerville Baptist. The front yard was gated with a wrought-iron fence, and the walk to the front yard was lined with sago palms. The investigators could see several large oaks and pines rising up above the white two-story house from the back yard.   The investigators had called ahead to let the Broder family know they were coming. His only surviving relatives, a son and a daughter-in-law, were currently at the house going through some of his things. The investigators were visiting to pay their respects and to "handle some estate business." They did not get into the details over the phone.   When they pulled up, the son was sitting on the porch, flipping through a book.

Music: The Haunted Burrow - LOTRO Unreleased Soundtrack The South Downs - Fall 2947 T.A. Recap When last we left our heroes... The Company, after a lengthy period of time apart, were brought back together again by what seemed to be fate. One night at the Prancing Pony, they were alerted by young Tom Heatherton to a "ghost" that was haunting the Bree graveyard. But when they went to investigate, they began to find clues that indicated the monster that spooked the boy was more likely a troll than anything undead. At the same time, they discovered a strange rumor around Tom's uncle, Timeas, who had unexpectedly died a little while ago, leaving a mysterious inheritance the young Tom was trying to claim through graverobbing. His father, Nick Heatherton, was desperately trying to keep him out of trouble, though he too was marked with suspicion by the heroes. Finding the trail of the creature, they followed it down the Greenway into the South Downs. Along the way, they met a curious traveler known only as Dancer, who offered them words of wisdom and a horrifying story of the Old Troll, a villain of no small notoriety. After several days of pursuit, the heroes located the troll's lair, which seemed to be trapped with all sorts of foul sorcery. They lost one another in engulfing fog, but managed to reunite just in time, as the troll attempted to ambush them! Despite its skin being as tough as stone, they drove it off, and now they plunge cautiously into the cave at the bottom of the sloping hill... Link to the old Chapter 1 thread As the heroes cautiously dared the unknown dangers and nauseating stench of a troll's lair, they began to notice something peculiar yet alarming. They could hear the soft pitter-patter of light footsteps, as if someone was just up ahead in the darkness, creeping further into the cave. So far, nothing has indicated that the party's presence is noticed... not yet, at least. But just around the bend on the left wall, a shadow began to form. However, Fletcher's use of torchlight seemed to alert the figure to their presence before their footsteps could. It looked at them, and the fire's illumination brightened around the shape of the figure... "Put that light out! You have a death wish?!" the figure harshly whispered, revealed now to be young Tomas Heatherton! What was he doing here? OOC Roles for Journeys GuideIn charge of all decisions concerning route, rest, and supplies. Guides rely on Wisdom and Survival proficiency. - Prudence ScoutIn charge of setting up camp, opening new trails. Scouts rely on Stealth and Investigation. - Fletcher HunterIn charge of finding food in the wild. Hunters rely on success with Survival checks. - Orn Look-outIn charge of keeping watch. Look-outs rely on their abilities in Perception. - Léofwyn OOC: The Company has discovered Tomas Heatherton in the troll's cave! How did he get here? Roll20 Map @codexgigas @Grendel @Papa Bear @grimlock  

Great world-breaking events that shatter a person's world should happen in dramatically appropriate places, not the local DMV building!    It wasn't even an exciting building, a square two-story building sitting squarely with space around it from parking. At least it was a nice shade of white, allowing it to maybe shine a little if the sun ever decided to come from behind the cloud, not even having enough drama to rain dramatically.   Still, the note you've received, that you're not quite sure how you came across, told you to be here at this place at this time and for once curiosity got the better of you...

  Domino Only Awaking from your bizarre nightmare, the first thing you notice is a mild irritation, perhaps even pain.  Still in a haze, you focus your attention to the sensation, it feels as though something is repeatedly pinching, hurting your fingers. Quickly moving your hand, you blindly swat at whatever was provoking your senses.  The contact felt damp, yet bristly and kind of gross all at the same time.   Your eyes snap open, and you take in your surroundings for the first time.  The environs are much different from that of before, still dark and cold, but with a certain solidity of weight to it.  This place feels... real, by comparison.   You find yourself laying on a table, inside a circular section of a room, adjoined by what might perhaps be a library of sorts.  There are other tables on the stone floor, along with some shelves at a distance, most of which empty save for a few odd volumes here and there.   Across from you in this part of the room, there is another being, similarly laid on a table, completely bare, and there is a rather large rat nibbling at a lock of her hair.  Her face looks familiar for some reason.   It's only now that you realize that you are missing the majority of your clothes and your gear, you seem to be wearing only your underthings. Barhuce, Rain, T'Sarra, Val and Vri Whatever began as a couple rounds of drinks at a local tavern in Hajoth Hakados, probably couldn't possibly have explained the way you're coming to right about now.   The dream...  It all felt too real.  The creature's voice, the pain from the devices, the woman's defiance...  It was as though you were each of you personally living those bizzare moments.   And yet, now that you've been brought out of that indescribable nightmare, you find yourselves perhaps waking into yet another.  The surroundings are completely unfamiliar to you, obviously being nothing like that of the inn's room you might have expected.   The floor and walls supporting your body is of stone.  Cold, and perhaps slightly damp with a hint of condensation at places.  The regularity of the walls belie the antrhopogenic nature of the place however — it is not so much a natural cave as it is something that was deliberately constructed by man.   Looking up, you see bars criss-crossed overhead though which filters a flicker of light, so you surmise this might be some kind of a holding cell.  To one side, beyond a similar situation of bars, there is a set of stairs leading up from beyond your immediate confines.   Though missing a majority of your clothes and all of your gear, at least you're alive for a start.     [[ Map — Location Unknown ]]

While the culmination of events leading up to the current situation spans a much longer time in history, it is best to first lead with recent fact. This is where our tale begins, in the small, faraway Varisian town of Sandpoint.     サンドポイント (SANDPOINT) Sandpoint is a beautiful and diverse town, resting in a natural cove along the cliff-lined Lost Coast region approximately thirty miles northeast of Magnimar. Every year on Rova, during the autumnal equinox, the citizens of Sandpoint commemorate a legend regarding Desna (デスナ、北星の女神) with the Swallowtail Festival. Although of late, something has gone wrong…   [[ Mood Music ]]   Moonday, 16 Rova, 4707AR The sun rises lazily over a clear sky on this mid-autumn morning, one week from the festival. Preparations are being made just about everywhere across town, mostly by the cathedral's priests and volunteers, as well as Mayor Deverin's staff, adding to the many responsibilities the town council already regularly undertakes, perhaps alluded to by the many advertisements seeking help posted on the town hall's notice board of late.     The local businesses too have been ramping up to accommodate for the festivities, as trade for foodstuffs and other goods is paving the way for the celebrations next week.   As though with perfect timing, Sandru Vhiski's caravan has rolled lazily into town through the North Gate this morning, bringing with them fresh fruits and many other goods from other nearby towns, just in time to park their wagon carts and join the local merchants setting up their stalls and fairly loosely delineated floor vending spaces at the Sandpoint Market.     Most of the patrons of the Rusty Dragon (ラスティドラゴン宿) are still stirring dreamily in their sleep. The Rusty Dragon is one of Sandpoint's two local inns, and a favorite eatery and watering hole for much of the town's locals and travelers alike. Its owner, Ameiko Kaino (海埜 雨慰子) is already awake and working diligently in the kitchen, from which a host of chopping, bubbling and sizzling sounds can be heard, and delicious smells are beginning to waft into the air of the neighbouring streets and alleyways. On today's breakfast menu is a trusty Lost Coast omelette (a safe option for those who don't care for Ameiko's experimentations), and a weird soupy concoction of noodles that she calls "ramen" for those with a little bit more adventure in their taste buds. And of course, there's always plenty of ale and raspberry mead being served...           (( While these are just some select details about Sandpoint and some of the happenings at the moment, you are free to place your character anywhere within the town to begin with. ))   Map of Sandpoint  

  Just outside the Rusty Dragon, after having made a passing remark at Darhana, Ameiko practically yanks her sister Noriko aside, handing her a basket that had been stacked into the one she herself was carrying. 「一緒に歩いて、順ちん。 Walk with me, Nori-chin. *〜ちん (~chin): Further diminutive form of 〜ちゃん (~chan), which is in itself a diminutive of the 〜さん (~san) honorific. Typically used toward children, specially girls, or younger women with whom you are intimate or familiar, also pets and mascot characters. Common use of this diminutive is often contracted into the subject’s name.」   “Look. I know I was a little abrasive with you back there, sis. Don’t take it personally.” She says to Noriko as they walk down Market Street, headed in the direction for the square, “You’re coming into your own now, as a young woman. You’re growing up faster than I wanted you to you know, but it’s not like I can stop you.”   Passing the Mercantile League building, Ameiko stops before turning the corner at the front of Sandpoint Meat Market, hanging out there at the edge of the building for a moment. There, she lowered her voice, leaning a little closer to her sister,  “I’ve never told you about that time I went off adventuring with Sandru when I was your age, did I?”

  All around you is a bizzare, greenish river of glowing information, endlessly shifting code and equations making up the walls and arched ceiling of what looks to be a massive cathedral.  Minute bits of scrolling characters, some mathematical, others in a language you don't understand, stream across the floor, flowing as though a thin curtain that veils every object, every feature of this place.   [[ Mood Music ]]   As your eyes adjust, you see that this cathedral-like space is vast, with perhaps ceilings a hundred feet overhead.  A silent, yet thick swell of mist obscures any exits there might be from the immediate chamber, beyond which the draconian growl of some unseen creature wards against your escape.  Yet through the massive bay windows you can see clearly beyond, into the depths of a purplish night sky, free from the ghoulish green veil.   In front of you stands a sixty-foot-tall statue of some sort of faceless, macabre female angel with glowing wings akin to that of a dragonfly, each projecting from a gruesome metallic blade.  Spikes protrude from places in the statue's supposed armor, though its general function eludes you as it doesn't seem consistent with any design of which you know.   The forearms of the statue seem each to be seamlessly integrated with a weapon, a sword on the left, and some sort of mechanical contraption with a strange yet imposing rectangular barrel on the right.     A female voice speaks.  The raspy, seductive words seem to be coming from everywhere all at once, yet you somehow recognize that it is coming from the angelic statue before you.  While the volume is consistent of mere conversation, it seems to permeate through you as though it might as well have been the voice of a god.  You immediately understand her, as for some reason she seems to be speaking whatever language it is you first became familiar with in life.  "Do you know why you’re here?"     (( GM's Instructions: This is a Dream State chapter, please use the Dream State version of your character. )) (( Perception checks immediately please, everyone. ))

  The memorial service was lovely and relatively short for such things. That was Broder's style. It ended near dusk. The six would-be investigators had received their strange bequeathment together in the Rabbi's office which as much bafflement as the Rabbi himself. They subsequently offered their final condolences, departed the synagogue, and gathered in the Swamp Fox Tea Room which was housed on the ground floor of the newly built Francis Marion Hotel. The Swamp Fox opened directly onto King Street to allow patrons to avoid the hustle and bustle of the hotel lobby. The six unlikely companions who sat together were familiar with one another through their common association with Broder, but none, save for Livingston and her assistant, were anything like close acquaintances.   The server arrived abruptly in a smartly starched white shirt and dark jacket. "What can I get you to drink?" he asked above the polite din of the establishment. It was widely known that with the proper encouragement and due discretion a variety of spirits were still available at the Swamp Fox.

The Desert, elsewhere There was a burst of something, a flash of light and suddenly you were somewhere else.   An apparent endless desert that stretches in every direction.    Why are you here, what happened?