Her eyes snapped open and hellish light poured in. She sucked a breath down her red-raw throat, then coughed hard, doubled up, curling fetal on her side. Her eyelids flickered, and darkness threatened to swallow her again. Her mind kicked against it, fought back, surfaced. Another painful series of coughs wracked her, then subsided. She took a slow, shuddering breath, blinking quickly as her eyes adjusted to the glare. Her surroundings resolved, her senses cleared, sight, sound, smell and touch coming slowly. She registered that she was lying on something hard and lumpy, an irregular surface that shifted beneath her as she moved. To her bleary gaze, it looked like a mound of pale stones and jagged debris, but no matter how much she blinked and frowned, she couldn't quite focus.
She could hear a low moan. The wind, she realized. It was warm, but not pleasantly so. It's touch was like the first bloom of fever-sweats that warned of illness to come. It bore a sharp tang. It took her long moments to place the stench. Sulfur, and something worse, some underlying stink of corruption that triggered primal revulsion within her. She pushed herself into a sitting position and redoubled her efforts to straight. What began as a fiery haze became a sky, though a more forbidding and ominous sight she could not have imagined. Blood-hued clouds roiled through a bruised void of purples and rotted grays. Vortices of black fumes whirled across the vista, ripping the bloody clouds to tatters and trailing cracking storms of lurid green lightning in their wake. Her gaze lowered, taking in the distant horizon with its jagged line of half-seen mountains. Fume-wreathed plains marches away from their feet.
She shifted again, fighting down feelings of dislocation. Her heart thumped as she realized that she had no idea where she was. The questions almost escaped her lips aloud, before she realized there was no one to answer. Something crunched beneath her palm, hard and splintering. She looked down with dawning horror. Not stones, bone.
She snatched her hand back through the broken, brittle brow of an ancient skull. Bones ground beneath her as she moved, and this time she did let out an involuntary moan. She scrabbled backwards on hands and heels as though to escape the carrion mound. Bone cracked beneath her weight. Shards jabbed through the grey shift she wore, scraping her bare legs and arms. The deathly clatter of bone on bone grew, skulls and femurs and finger bones grinding with her every moment. She felt something cold and hard beneath her palms. She dragged herself backwards with gasps of gratitude, until she saw on a slab of black painted metal several feet across. It was part of something larger, she realized, buried in layers of bone, rusting and studded with rivets and old impact wounds. Dimly, she perceived the faded remnants of an insignia still clinging to the metal, but she had no more attention to spare. The slopes of bone stretched away on all sides, spilling down and down, broken by jutting metal wreckage, tatters of colored cloth and other, more organic looking remnants that she didn't care to identify. She couldn't tear her eyes away.
"Not a mound.."Cora Perkins said, her voice a dry croak. "This..is a..mountain? Where am i..?"
Questions chased one another through her mind. She shut them into cages forged from her iron will, there to languish until she could address them rationally. Panic spread like frost in her gut, surged up through her chest. It met the fire of her determination and melted back as quickly as it had come. She took a deep, slow breath and closed her eyes, centering herself.
"Mother?"she said, the word coming unbidden to her lips. They felt right there, natural, reassuring. She could not say for sure who her mother was, but she drew strength from the mention of her. Feeling calmer, she opened her eyes and took mental inventory. She could see no signs of movement beyond the occasional stirring of wind-tugged cloth. Whatever horrible carrion peak she found herself atop, wherever this wasteland was, she was alone here. She realized she had clenched her fists in readiness to defend herself.
"What..who am i?" she murmured, finding comfort in the sound of her own voice. It was feminine but strong, a voice made for firm statements, stern, and to the point. But to whom? Seeing no immediate danger, she resolved to begin by answering as many questions as she could about herself. She would open her mental cages one at a time and interrogate the thoughts within. She took personal inventory.
Her grey shift was unadorned, its material coarse against her skin. The body it clad was lean and powerful - she could feel graceful strength in her every movement, and see wiry, corded muscle shift and move beneath the skin of her arms and legs. Her hair was shoulder length, and she could see from holding it out before her eyes that it was raven dark. Beyond that, without a reflective surface she could tell little more about her age or appearance. What she had gathered for now would have to be enough. She let her fingertips explore her facial features, moving down over her chin to her throat. She gasped and pulled her hands away as she felt occasional scar tissue on various parts of her face and neck bespeaking the evidence of ancient wounds of battle and conflict. Sure enough, she looked down at herself again and found that she was pitted with scars and healed wounds from a age long past.
At that moment she felt an echo of something within her mind. Screaming. Flames of hate and anger reflected in churning waters. Something towering and monstrous. A light. The strange sense was gone as suddenly as it appeared, moonlight glimpsed through tattered clouds. She frowned in puzzlement as she realized that the scars were gone, too. She felt at the flesh of her face, her neck, her stomach, her arms, her legs. With increased agitation trying to find them, the scars, all of them, were gone.
"How is this possible?"she asked the empty mountaintop. "How is any of this possible?"
She had no possessions, that much was clear. No weapons or armor with which to protect herself, no food, drink, any other items of clothing or gear. Nothing to suggest who she was, or to help her survive.
"And no idea how I came here,"she said. "But I have myself. That is enough."
She knew she could not simply sit atop a mountain of bone forever. There was no telling what kinds of ferocious storms the brooding sky might disgorge, and she felt no desire to be plucked from this peak by a screaming gale or caught amidst ferocious lightning blasts. Though she felt neither hunger nor thirst, she doubted that would remain the case forever. Starving to death and adding her bones to the mountain held even less appeal. Yet the thing that drove her to her feet was the desire for answers. Who was she? What was she doing in such a ghastly place? How had she come to be here? She needed to know, and she would find no insights here.
She stood atop the mountain, shift and hair blowing in the hot winds. She stared down the steep slopes. They vanished ever downward on all sides into a thick crimson mist.
"Nothing to suggest a route,"she said. "No hint as to where I must go."Strangely, the notion held no terror for her. Instinctive as breathing, she closed her eyes and offered up a request to her mother for guidance. To her surprise, she felt a faint warmth upon her cheek, as though a candle flame had been brought close to it for the briefest of moments. The sensation was there and gone, yet it was enough, its touch somehow pure, distinct from the clammy caress of the winds. "Mother? Are you here? Are you my protector, perhaps?"Her questions fell dead and unanswered. Whatever the truth, she knew it would not be as easy as simply demanding answers. She opened her eyes and turned in the direction from which she had felt the warmth. Steeling herself, she stepped carefully out, barefoot, onto the jagged carpet of bones. She began to make her slow and slithering way down the mountainside.
The going was treacherous. An ache built in her muscles until it became dull fire, and her chest tightened reflexively whenever she took in the nightmarish steepness of the slope. In places there was little more than a compacted cliff, and she was forced to spend long minutes scrambling crabwise across the slopes in search of a more forgiving descent. Splinters tore at her. Rusted jags of metal scraped her shins. When she was forced to put her hands down in a hurry, her forearms and palms were scratched and pierced until she left a trail of bright red blood drops behind her to mark her path. Within minutes of beginning her descent, she found her heart thumping and her nerves singing from the constant exertion and peril. Briefly, as she clung by tenuous handholds to a protruding rib cage and felt for a foothold in the shattered arch of some ancient shrine, she contemplated turning back. Perhaps she could try another angle of descent? A glance upwards showed no obvious route of return, and she realized that - now that she had begun this perilous climb - her only option was to press on.
She gathered quickly that the mountain was not just made from the bones of the dead, but more specifically from those that had fallen in battle. It was apparent not only from the ways their limbs and skulls had been smashed, hewn and blasted, but also in the increasing quantities of rusted weaponry, armor and even vehicle hulls that peppered the mountainside. She had been scrambling downwards for perhaps an hour when a tangle of bones she was gripping cracked and gave way. She fell, her stomach lurching at the momentary weightlessness before she hit the slope feet first and spilled awkwardly sideways. Bones cascaded around her, clattering in a hollow storm of remains. She fell with them. She rolled and skidded. She landed just yards before a steep drop. She was gripping a tangled leather object that stopped her fall. She stood, and compelled by a feeling she could not name, she picked it up.
It was a worn leather tunic, and nearby, long leather pants carelessly thrown atop a long leather coat. She let out a gasp as another sensory echo struck her. It was stronger this time, the sound of a blade rasping through metal, flesh and bone, accompanied by the acrid stink of smoke and burning flesh. Then she knew. This outfit used to be hers. It was hers. How that could be, she had not the faintest idea, but she knew it as surely as she still drew breath. As she turned the armor over in her hands, she saw small words and indications that was covered with dust, grime - ancient, no doubt - that identified her as part of an eon's old organisation. "Cora.."she breathed, reading the name on the stitched patch, about an inch wide and half an inch high. "..Perkins. Is that me? Am I Cora?"
The notion felt right, and she resolved that, until it was proved otherwise, she would claim this name for herself. It centered her somehow, made her feel less a wraith of this wasteland and more a being that ventured through it. She considered throwing the armor aside, for it was battered and worn to the point of uselessness. Yet it was the first familiar thing she had seen in all this forsaken realm. She could not bear to part with it. She glanced down at her shift, ragged and torn where it had snagged bone and metal during her fall. She had been lucky not to suffer worse. The armor would at least provide her some protection against another fall. It didn't seem so heavy that it would encumber her overly. Awkwardly, mindful of the drop beneath her, she started to wear it. She slid her arms and legs through the holes then sealed its clasps with an instinctive, practiced ease. She wore the long coat.
As the last clasp clicked into place, she blinked in complete bewilderment. The rips and grime on her armor and jacket slowly faded as though they had never been. The armor she had found had been a long forgotten relic of ages past, but now what she was wearing was brand new, the leather bright and polished and comfortably tight on her slim athletic muscular form. "Mother, whatever miracle this is, I thank you for it."she said. Her spirits buoyed, she forged onward. The descent was still challenging, but with her body and back protected from harm it was at least somewhat less painful.
Sometime later, a glint of light on metal caught her eye.
Sprawled in the tumbled wreck of a blackened landing craft were a great heap of skeletons, many crushed and mangled, some warped into unnatural shapes that she took care not to touch. There, amidst the mounds of remains, lay the armored lower body of a warrior. Boots, greaves, leg and chest armor - it was all there, rusted into a single mass. Cora felt intense discomfort at seeing that the body had stopped at the waist, the ragged stub of a spine jutting out to vanish under a heavy slab of metal. Nearby were two short swords, rusted, and ancient. But, they looked, somehow, familiar. Tentatively, she reached out and touched one of the blades. She was rocked by the intensity of the echo that washed over her.
Screaming voices, frantic swearing, the sounds of battle with terrible voices cackling and gibbering. The crackle of fire. Explosions and frantic prayers. The howl of escaping air, and a moment of steely determination as she felt herself reel with incoming memories. Cora came back to herself with a jolt. Had she died, she wondered? And if so, how was she alive now? How was such a thing possible? Was she remembering the lives of others, perhaps? Or was this all just some strange trick, part of a greater and crueler ruse that had brought her to this place and consigned her to a living purgatory? She picked up the two short swords, and again, was amazed to see the rust crumble and fall off - and in a moment, the blades were as new as if they left the forge. She stood there looking at them, completely dumbfounded. What was more interesting is how natural they felt in her hands.
"Have I died more than once?"she whispered, shying away from the question when she heard how haunted her voice sounded.
But someone answered."Yes, you have."
She wheeled around, nearly tripping over herself, and in a gut wrenching moment she couldn't explain she was at the mountain of bone she spent hours descending, in front of a withered old man in a robe holding himself up with a staff. He was bald, and had a grizzled white beard, but his eyes were bright, and sharp. She stood there for a moment, startled, catching her breath. She looked him over for a few minutes longer, not knowing what to expect in this place.
"Who are you?"she began, carefully.
"And it was written in the stars that one would be chosen, from a life of hardship and dedication to have another chance to live a different life. I am one of the last caregivers of an ancient civilization long destroyed."he croaked out. "I am the one responsible for your resurrection, more importantly."
Cora stared at the old man untrustingly. Without moving her head, she looked around and then her eyes went back to him. "Where am i?"
"You are a stranger on a world you once found familiar. Or, I should say, what is left of it."he said. "But, it is not the same world you once remembered. The passing of many millennia has changed many things, Cora, including this place, and everything you knew, including yourself. This world is nothing more than a barren husk, the result of war and powers beyond the scope you could ever hope to imagine."
"How do you know my name?"she asked, "Do you know me? I.."she grimaced, "I..don't remember much. Nothing much at all, really."
The old man chuckled and nodded slowly. "It is funny how destiny works. In this reality, there are many powers beyond your comprehension that influence and oversee mortals to nudge them on paths they would never truly understand. Sometimes, they think they are acting on their own accord, but, at times, someone else is pulling the strings. I know you because I am a servant of one of these powers that govern the universe. I have been watching over you since the day you were born almost six thousand years ago. You should consider yourself lucky, you have been handpicked."
"Handpicked? What does that mean?"Cora asked nervously.
"Do not worry."the old man reassured her. "It will not be like the last time. Those Gods have evolved to other concerns."
Cora blinked at the old man. She just couldn't remember. It made no sense. "What happened to my memory?"
"Come."the old man beckoned her over. "It is a side effect of the reorigination. You may not remember, but you have had a very tragic life, Cora. You have much of your Father in you. But, you took care of him ages ago. You have loved, and lost, laughed and cried, and been angry, very angry for most of it. Believe it or not, this is not the first time you have lost your memory, either. But this time it will be different. The powers that be have decided to be merciful. Now, you can decide how you want your story to start, and to begin. This time, it can be different."
Cora slowly walked closer to the man, and she didn't know why she was. It was all so hard to digest, but she wanted to know more.
"I will make all of your memories available to you, and you can tell me which ones you want to keep, ok?"
Cora mulled over the question. Did she want those memories? Maybe this was a chance to start over. But, she still had so many questions.
"Make this life a good one, ok?"the old man smiled, and touched her forehead.
My name is Cora Perkins. About five thousand years ago I was born to a meek mother and an abusive father on a planet called Toril. Tormented as a child by the physical abuse he inflicted upon me, I learned to be afraid, angry, and feral. My mother and I ran away from home, seeking a way to escape a life of pain. She left me in a temple where I soon ran away, socially and physically inept, but filled with rage and frustration. I never saw her again. Dying in an alley after a fight, I was found by a secret military organization who trained me to be a martial weapon and investigator, and taught me the discipline I needed. They were my home, my family. It's where I met Aerik, my work partner. I graduated, found my Father, and murdered him in cold revenge for everything he did to my mother and I.
Attempting a mission that was way over my head, I lost my partner to a Waterdavian beholder crime lord and was ejected from the organization. That's when I became an embittered, sarcastic, and cranky adventurer - spending years travelling from place to place with a new dwarven friend. I will never forget the things I did, the places I saw, and the people I loved. Eventually, the spirit of my dead father tormented my dreams to the point I was drifting into insanity. Seeking a way to end the torment, I made a deal with Hell that lasted exactly two thousand years where I was their champion, and was forced to do their bidding in exchange for a peaceful mind. At least the horrors of hell and the things they made me do were considered easier.
I thought I could trick them, and I found a way. Far in the future, I created technology to escape my Hellish employers, but something went wrong. I landed on a distant world where I had no memory of myself. Eventually, my memory returned when I was reunited with an old friend, and Aerik, my old partner - who had been reborn and was against me. Hunted by a Paladin of Bane for my affiliation with Hell, I was tracked, beaten, and finally killed. When I woke up, I was in a place between, a soul on a plane far away from the living, a place where I could spent all the time I wanted exacting revenge on the spirit of my abusive Father. Reunited in this place that was neither heaven nor hell, cheered on by all the souls of the people I knew in my past life - I took all the time I needed to make sure my Father no longer hurt me ever again.
Now, I am alive once more.
I find myself on a world I have never been - called Eberron. Has some God granted me mercy? Taken notice of the millennia of servitude I gave to Hell and given me reprieve? Pity? Could this be another chance? It is a beautiful world, and finally, after so long, the rage, frustration and anger I have felt has finally melted away. I have no idea what i'm going to do now.
The grassy plain was empty, and stretched on for miles on end in every direction. The tall blades of grass slowly swayed in the wind, unbothered, unfettered. In an instant, a figure was there, slowly walking, hand outstretched and feeling the top of the grass blades on her palms as she strode calmly on the plain. She was not a native of this world, no. Not by any means possible. But, for whatever reason, she had been given another chance. Things in her mind were hazy, and sure, she had questions, but things were a little different with her, as if a massive weight was off her chest. Why here? Why now? Indeed, why at all? She closed her eyes yet smiled softly, feeling the sun and breeze upon her tan face.
Finally. The torment was over. Who could understand the motives and intentions of the Gods, and she was not about to question them. She knew better. In all the lifetimes she experienced, she decided to take what was given and this time try and be happy..even if she started with nothing but her blades, and her leather top and coat.
They called this continent..Khorvaire. And down below the fields was a city called Sharn.
In the spirit of exploration, she pressed on forward.
The Hunny Hive is a well known, high class whore house situated in the Firelight district, run by the one and only Queen Bea. She was an accidental pregnancy, as her mother was a prostitute herself, but that didn't stop her from doing her job. After all, you would be surprised at how much money people would pay to **** a pregnant woman.
Shortly after her birth, she was dumped in an orphanage and raised in poor conditions which only worsened when a strange mark burned itself on her sternum. She was teased endlessly by the other children (as rags could only cover so much) to a point where she planned to run away at the age of 16. It was an easy escape since none of the orphanage workers cared in the first place, but life in the streets wasn't easy for her at all till she found an easy way to make money. All she had to do was dance on a pole.
It didn't take long for her to realize she was a fairly good dancer with an ability to weave magic and illusions to her whim while she performed. The shows would leave the men and women coming back and wanting more, in which she was willing to supply. She loved the attention, and loved the money that came along with it. There were many men and women who yearned for her and when she became of legal age, whatever innocence she had left was finally taken from her.
There was one man who constantly could be seen watching her shows and requesting her services; Alexi Romanov. A powerful and wealthy man from the House of Phiarlan who was quick to let Bea know of what powers she possessed and how she would use them to her benefit.
Eventually, she left the house she worked in, and with the money she saved and some of what he provided her, she opened The Hunny Hive, a place where you could pay for services with valuable information or gold. Her business was successful, her girls were the best of the best, and her shows would pack full houses back to back, so how did she end up on this sort of mission?
Alexi, of course. The man sought out information that she could extract from the target with ease. The hunt was what enticed her the most. A man who couldn't control himself around the face of a pretty woman. All she needed to do was find him first, and this is where it would all begin.
It tooks Cora days to make it to Sharn, and she was impressed at how the city literally towered atop a cliff above the mouth of a massive river. She took her time, made her way through the different districts and ignored the stares she got as she casually strolled through a city she had never been in before. Wearing her renewed leathers, her trench coat, and her blades holstered on her right leg, it was like it was three thousand years ago, back in the Academy.
BUT NO PURPOSE
What do the Gods have in store for me this time? All I know I've been given a second chance, nothing more. Thousands of years of memories I've experienced and now I find myself with no purpose, no direction. And, yet..no anger? For a very brief moment, she tried to think back as far as she could, and like trying to piece together a dream that was vastly in the furthest recess of her mind, she tried to think of her loved ones.
SHE FELT ALONE
As hard as she tried, she could not remember. She grew lonely, and wanting. A warm, growing yearning was brewing inside her and wanted to distract her loneliness with the loving touch of a woman. I wouldn't matter who - she just wanted to feel something else for instead of an empty purposeless new life.
PRIMAL URGES
She continued to walk and came across a very fancy establishment. "What the ****? The..Hunny Hive?"she muttered. Making a face of curiosity she peeked inside. "Holy shit." she said. The place was an extremely upper scale establishment, and seemed to accommodate a wide variety of carnal pleasures. Beautiful men and women entertained patrons of all varieties and Cora slowly, curiously, carefully, walked in and looked around further in. The smell of sweetness permeated everything. Dancers, drink, rooms, stages, and poles. In some areas, the salty smell of sweat would be in the air, but not unpleasantly so. She stood there, and so amazed by the place, absentmindedly took a seat in a very comfortable couch and watched the men and women currently on stage dance. It was intoxicating how beautiful they were. Whoever owned this place had certainly taken the time to find the sexiest samples anyone with any taste would want - and for many moments Cora was in awe, having never seen anything like this place. One of the female dancers had finished, left the stage, and slowly walked around allowing men and women to tip her for her dancing.
Cora watched the beautiful girl make her rounds, and when the rogue turned back to the stage. A new girl that had gotten up to dance next. Cora gasped in surprise as all the air had left her lungs in a rush - for a second she couldn't breathe. "Oh ****.."was all she could say.
Cora stared, unashamed, at the new dancer. Such grace. Such skill. The dancer was extremely talented to say the least and was gorgeous in the most sexual way. At times Cora felt nearly numb, her heart pounding in her chest, and had trouble, at time, staying in her seat. She couldn't take her eyes of this woman, and was completely hypnotized the way her body moved. A serving girl came by and offered to bring her a drink, and Cora vacantly nodded her head yes.
Ow ow ow. Pain. Grey. Running-why do they hurt so much-keep holding her hand-oh god, it hurts-what's going on-it stopped, why did it stop. Look behind us, it really did. I'm staring at a wall of grey mist that just...stops at the banks of the Cyre River. Standing on lightning rail tracks, gotta get off this bridge. Green hand starting to pull sis away-wait, green? What? Why am I-at least legs don't hurt anymore-where are legs? Can't feel them. Can't stay up. Falling...
Athela jerked awake in bed. "Not again," she muttered. Dreams weren't stopping, it'd been four years. She glanced down at her hand, the skin the color of the short, tough grass that clung to the rooftops of Overlook. Looking out the tiny window, she can see the dark orange of sunrise. Gritting her teeth, she scoots over to the edge of the bed. Four years and she still wasn't used to this. Using her hands, she carefully dropped into the wheelchair beside her bed and quietly wheeled out the door, careful not to wake the redheaded lump sleeping in the other bed.
Up on the roof (a feat that took some serious finesse and made her very grateful for the climbing apparatus installed into her wheelchair by a local Cannith), Athela smiled as orange light broke through the towers looming above her. The kalashtar that lived in this area of Overlook had put up small crystals on all the roofs that refracted light across them, turning the roofs of this swath of the district into a garden of light. It reminded her of the floating gardens of Metrol. Quietly, Athela unfolded the slip of paper in her pocket and looked at it. An invitation to a socialite and explorer' home. A gnome. Hopefully she didn't know anything about the girls-gnomes did love intrigue. Taking a deep breath, Athela turned and began wheeling her way back into the room to tell her sister about the invitation.
Averian d’Lyrandar, hailed as the start of a new generation of the Khoravar. His inborn abilities harnessed a previously unknown power, either from a deeper connection to the Dragonmark or something different.
He was given the same training as any other member of Lyrandar, but all his teachers emphasized his unique responsibility to the House. He was given power to protect the House’s interests. He was given the duty of obeying the House’s leaders. He was destined for greatness, if only he did those things.
Of course, no one could ever hope to constrain someone with the sea and skies churning inside of them. His innate desire was to be unbound, to be free to wander the world as he pleased instead of spending his time standing guard or being studied. So when the opportunity came, he seized it. He took the first steps towards distancing himself from his House, although he is still afraid of cutting ties completely.
PROLOGUE FIVE -WILLOW TWILIGHT
Willow remembered it all clearly. Her magic, her abandonment, but especially what came after. Her magic had always allowed her to access a more primal part of herself, and despite its uses, her family always saw the use of her own blood for magic as heretical. Traitorous. Her magic allowed her to access the better side of her. The cunning side, elegant and regal like she was raised but wild in nature. The mist had brought that out in her. Made it... More apparent. Although her older sister endured much more of it's effect, skin now green and wheelchair bound. Willow was bestowed a more animal like appearance. Matching with her already slightly pointed nose were a new pair of fox ears and a tail, a slightly darker color than her naturally ginger/redish hair. However, with this new foxlike appearance came a more primal urge, an easily lost temper, and an urge to chase smaller animals. Willow used this as a fuel, focusing on her magic and helping her older sister whenever she would allow. There was always a sense of guilt. Even after four years.
Willow woke up to an empty room, her sister no where in sight. This was relatively common to her. What was also common was the upkeep of her form. Like every morning since 'Then' she would tend to the fur on her ears and tail, brushing it much like she would her hair before checking her appearance and heading out to find Athela. By the time Willow had awoken, the sun had already rised a little past sunrise and the smaller critters were out and about. Checking in with Athela to see if she needed anything, Willow would then dismiss herself, her rapier strapped to her back and her dagger on her hip as she headed out to the nearby wooded area. Careful not to stray to far, she would hide her equiptment in a nearby bush and assume her more animalistic form. Lost in her thoughts, she would hunt animals ranging from small rodents to larger birds. Anything she could get her paws on. Having a few snacks here and there, she would pile anything leftover near her equipment and resume her more human form, calmly straightening her fur on her ears and tail.
She would tie the leftover animals, redon her equipment and weapons, and carry the freshly hunted animals back to where they were staying. Placing them on the blood clothed counter, she would begin to prepare her sisters breakfast. However, this morning was different. Her sister had a slightly more serious look to her face, and a piece of paper in her hands. Things were about to change, and Willow knew they would be moving on again. They always did.
AROUND KHORVAIRE IN FIFTY DAYS - PROLOGUE CAMPAIGN
PART ONE - DEPARTURE FROM SKYDOCK SIX
What's this? A job?
Some of you might know her name. You saw the ads, they were impossible to miss. An illustrious explorer named Angelica Estrella d’Sivis has planned a journey around all of Khorvaire in attempts to create a map more detailed and magnificent than any created before. She has hired academics, crew, and mercenaries to join in her journey, and you all applied - and were hired! Whether you’re here to help her in her cartography, run the ship, or protect it from danger, simply traveling aboard the Celeste Noir will be one of the greatest adventures you’ve ever embarked upon - you're convinced. Together, you plan to travel around the continent of Khorvaire in fifty days, stopping at various cities and points of interest to rest, refuel, and explore.
You're hired!
So here you are. Those chosen out of dozens to be a part of her crew. Here is a map of Khorvaire.
Angelica Estrella d’Sivis
Our beginning finds you all gathered at the door of the flat of Angelica Estrella d’Sivis, a cheery gnome and an eccentric explorer. You are all in Upper Dura, a district in the sky-scraping city of Sharn. The sky-scraping towers of Sharn are stratified by wealth and social class, with those of wealth and means at the top and those without below. However, Dura Quarter is the city's oldest and poorest district. As such, even its highest point, it’s still a middle-class neighborhood, comparable to Middle Menthis or some other middle-tier ward. Some of you have lived here, some of you are just visiting. But upon being hired, you gather outside of Angelica d’Sivis’s flat, whose exterior is festooned with wind chimes, weathervanes, and other bits of eclectic paraphernalia.
After a moment of awkward tension, the door springs open, and a sprightly gnome appears. Her silver hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and a pair of oversized, circular spectacles magnify her tiny eyes. A glimmering symbol, almost like a tattoo, sparkles on her left temple. “You’re here for Angelica Estrella d’Sivis, Explorer Extraordinaire, right? Speaking. Please, come in.”
The Details..
The interior of Angelica’s flat is just as cluttered with glittering esoterica as the outside. She sits them down on well-worn armchairs and lays out the terms of her contract. In short, Angelica is conducting a cartographical survey of Khorvaire to note how the landscape has changed in the hundred-odd years since the beginning of the Last War, noting new settlements, abandoned towns, arboreal growth or shrinkage, and most importantly, the potential spread of the Mournland—the inhospitable wasteland in the continent’s center that was once a nation called Cyre. She is also testing the power of a brand-new, state-of-the-art airship provided to her by the engineers of House Cannith known as the Celeste Noir. They claim that this fabulous craft can circle Khorvaire in fifty days—or fewer! She intends to put this claim, and her navigational skills, to the test with the Celeste Noir’s maiden voyage.
In exchange for aiding her in her survey—either as crewmembers, mercenary guards, or fellow surveyors—they will be provided meals and lodging, paid a weekly stipend, and allowed to keep any objects they find over the course of the expedition, provided they aren’t vital to Angelica’s research, of course. She produces a simple, easy-to-read contract to her prospective employees.
A half-orc in a well-made wooden wheelchair wheels herself in, eyes touching on the large quantity of strange...things in Angelica's flat. She wears simple leather armor, a walking staff hangs from the back of her wheelchair beside a shortbow and a quiver of arrows, and a long necklace in the Cyran style is clasped around her neck. A black cord is looped around twice her upper right arm and tied with a knot. Dark green hair (quite unusual for a half-orc) is tied back from her face in a flowing style. Athela glances at Willow throughout the explanation of the job, raising an eyebrow at the pale, redheaded shifter. "What do you think, sis? Time to take a trip?"
Willow shrugs and looks to Athela with a smile. "Aren't I always?" The redhead/ginger moves to brush her fingers along the fur of the fox ears that adorn her head before straightening her tail. Her hair is pulled back simply in a bun, she adjusts the rapier tied to her back and checks the dagger on her hip before tilting her head slightly, her ears cocking themselves naturally. Her outfit is much less elegant than Athela's. Adorned in mainly shades of black with thick boots and leather fingerless gloves on her hands, she contrasted her sister quite a lot and her hair even more so.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
A half-elf stands straight in a long, white robe marked with the symbol of House Lyrandar. As every person walks into the room, he scans them nervously. He seems filled with a desire to leave the place, but remains nonetheless. On his back is a plain, wooden quarterstaff on top of a large backpack.
It had been ages since the last time Bea left her establishment for something like this to a point where she already felt homesickness as she walked down the street to the explorers household. She felt a bit out of place in this part of Sharn (as she had mostly spent her time in the Firelight district for obvious reasons), but despite the mixture of emotions she was feeling, she strut her way with her head held high. She wasn't going to let Alexi down.
To put it simply, she was a beautiful woman; had shoulder length honey blonde hair that bounced with each step, piercing blue eyes, lightly tanned skin (the only mark that 'blemished' her features was one birthmark strategically placed near her red tinted lips), a slim body tightened into a leather corset that accentuated her curves and brought much attention to her busty chest. It earned her a few whistles as she passed by, in which she would simply return them with a cheeky wink and a blown kiss. Of course, she had her belt that held her dagger and rapier, but many don't pay too much attention to that when they had other things to look at.
She walked into the flat with a smile, and when explained what they were going to be doing, the feeling of homesickness being washed away and replaced with eagerness. "Oh I can't wait to tell my little honey bees all about my adventures when I get back. How excitin'!"
Aeydof the Dragons || Wood Elf / Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk Demetrios Zalaoras || Protector Aasimar / Paladin of Torm Hawke || Kalashtar / Circle of the Moon Druid Morticia || Half-Aasimar Rogue Yvan || Goliath / Path of the Wild Soul Barbarian | Paladin of Helm /ᐠ。ꞈ。ᐟ\
Cora "Crispy" Perkins entered the flat - looking around. The place was a complete mess of shit, and she had no idea what she was looking at, any of it. She had received the message that she got hired, and she double checked the address outside to make sure she was in the right spot. She was. Once again, she peeked out and checked the address. Yup, this is it. After inspecting the place, she looked over the other people who, apparently, were chosen for the job.
We have a half elf caster type, a half-orc in a wheelchair? What the hell? Another woman. And.."Ahh!"
The she saw Bea and nearly toppled over in shock. "What the ****!"she barked, alarmed. Confused. A little amused.
It was her! The woman from the Hunny Hive! Except..clothed. And not dancing like she was hours ago that held Cora's attention so captive. The one who she paid a little extra for..uh, a little extra honey. Hunny. Whatever.
"Uh."she stared at Bea. "You're the.."she began, trying to find the words, then decided not to - getting right to the point instead of stating the obvious. "What..are you doing..here?"she asked, her eyebrow raised.
Cora was a young woman with an appearance of her late 20s, very early 30s. She had dark brown hair, impossibly light blue eyes, and tan skin, as if she had spent most of her life outdoors, completely sunkissed. Her skin was smooth, and she wore tight fitting leather armor that allowed ease of movement and flexibility. She had a long leather jacket, and a blade holster attached to her right thigh for easy access of two wicked short swords. Physically, she was slender and while not having such an obvious bust like Bea, Cora was clearly curvy, very tone with lean tight muscle, and athletic. It is clear that Cora has spent her life fighting in close combat.
Willow eyes the others as they mingle, her tail and ears twitching on occasion. She whispers curiously to Athela. "Quite a... variety of appearance... aren't they? And here I thought we were going to stand out."
Willow's eyes take a minute to scan over the things in the room before she slowly shifts her feet, her eyes landing on the wind chimes off to one side of the room. Almost instantly, Athela can tell what is going through her sister's mind.
Shiny batty noisy thingy. Why must you be so alluring.
As Willow would move to inch closer, Athela would grab her wrist to hold her in place. Her fox ears, however, twitched more with interest as she glanced over at the chimes every few seconds.
***PLACEHOLDER DO NOT POST ***
*CRISPYDM PRESENTS*
EBERRON: FORGOTTEN RELICS - COMING IN NOVEMBER
***PLACEHOLDER DO NOT POST***
PROLOGUE ONE - CORA "CRISPY" PERKINS
BEYOND
PART ONE
Consciousness, sudden and violent.
Her eyes snapped open and hellish light poured in. She sucked a breath down her red-raw throat, then coughed hard, doubled up, curling fetal on her side. Her eyelids flickered, and darkness threatened to swallow her again. Her mind kicked against it, fought back, surfaced. Another painful series of coughs wracked her, then subsided. She took a slow, shuddering breath, blinking quickly as her eyes adjusted to the glare. Her surroundings resolved, her senses cleared, sight, sound, smell and touch coming slowly. She registered that she was lying on something hard and lumpy, an irregular surface that shifted beneath her as she moved. To her bleary gaze, it looked like a mound of pale stones and jagged debris, but no matter how much she blinked and frowned, she couldn't quite focus.
She could hear a low moan. The wind, she realized. It was warm, but not pleasantly so. It's touch was like the first bloom of fever-sweats that warned of illness to come. It bore a sharp tang. It took her long moments to place the stench. Sulfur, and something worse, some underlying stink of corruption that triggered primal revulsion within her. She pushed herself into a sitting position and redoubled her efforts to straight. What began as a fiery haze became a sky, though a more forbidding and ominous sight she could not have imagined. Blood-hued clouds roiled through a bruised void of purples and rotted grays. Vortices of black fumes whirled across the vista, ripping the bloody clouds to tatters and trailing cracking storms of lurid green lightning in their wake. Her gaze lowered, taking in the distant horizon with its jagged line of half-seen mountains. Fume-wreathed plains marches away from their feet.
She shifted again, fighting down feelings of dislocation. Her heart thumped as she realized that she had no idea where she was. The questions almost escaped her lips aloud, before she realized there was no one to answer. Something crunched beneath her palm, hard and splintering. She looked down with dawning horror. Not stones, bone.
She snatched her hand back through the broken, brittle brow of an ancient skull. Bones ground beneath her as she moved, and this time she did let out an involuntary moan. She scrabbled backwards on hands and heels as though to escape the carrion mound. Bone cracked beneath her weight. Shards jabbed through the grey shift she wore, scraping her bare legs and arms. The deathly clatter of bone on bone grew, skulls and femurs and finger bones grinding with her every moment. She felt something cold and hard beneath her palms. She dragged herself backwards with gasps of gratitude, until she saw on a slab of black painted metal several feet across. It was part of something larger, she realized, buried in layers of bone, rusting and studded with rivets and old impact wounds. Dimly, she perceived the faded remnants of an insignia still clinging to the metal, but she had no more attention to spare. The slopes of bone stretched away on all sides, spilling down and down, broken by jutting metal wreckage, tatters of colored cloth and other, more organic looking remnants that she didn't care to identify. She couldn't tear her eyes away.
"Not a mound.." Cora Perkins said, her voice a dry croak. "This..is a..mountain? Where am i..?"
BEYOND
PART TWO
Questions chased one another through her mind. She shut them into cages forged from her iron will, there to languish until she could address them rationally. Panic spread like frost in her gut, surged up through her chest. It met the fire of her determination and melted back as quickly as it had come. She took a deep, slow breath and closed her eyes, centering herself.
"Mother?" she said, the word coming unbidden to her lips. They felt right there, natural, reassuring. She could not say for sure who her mother was, but she drew strength from the mention of her. Feeling calmer, she opened her eyes and took mental inventory. She could see no signs of movement beyond the occasional stirring of wind-tugged cloth. Whatever horrible carrion peak she found herself atop, wherever this wasteland was, she was alone here. She realized she had clenched her fists in readiness to defend herself.
"What..who am i?" she murmured, finding comfort in the sound of her own voice. It was feminine but strong, a voice made for firm statements, stern, and to the point. But to whom? Seeing no immediate danger, she resolved to begin by answering as many questions as she could about herself. She would open her mental cages one at a time and interrogate the thoughts within. She took personal inventory.
Her grey shift was unadorned, its material coarse against her skin. The body it clad was lean and powerful - she could feel graceful strength in her every movement, and see wiry, corded muscle shift and move beneath the skin of her arms and legs. Her hair was shoulder length, and she could see from holding it out before her eyes that it was raven dark. Beyond that, without a reflective surface she could tell little more about her age or appearance. What she had gathered for now would have to be enough. She let her fingertips explore her facial features, moving down over her chin to her throat. She gasped and pulled her hands away as she felt occasional scar tissue on various parts of her face and neck bespeaking the evidence of ancient wounds of battle and conflict. Sure enough, she looked down at herself again and found that she was pitted with scars and healed wounds from a age long past.
At that moment she felt an echo of something within her mind. Screaming. Flames of hate and anger reflected in churning waters. Something towering and monstrous. A light. The strange sense was gone as suddenly as it appeared, moonlight glimpsed through tattered clouds. She frowned in puzzlement as she realized that the scars were gone, too. She felt at the flesh of her face, her neck, her stomach, her arms, her legs. With increased agitation trying to find them, the scars, all of them, were gone.
"How is this possible?" she asked the empty mountaintop. "How is any of this possible?"
She had no possessions, that much was clear. No weapons or armor with which to protect herself, no food, drink, any other items of clothing or gear. Nothing to suggest who she was, or to help her survive.
"And no idea how I came here," she said. "But I have myself. That is enough."
She knew she could not simply sit atop a mountain of bone forever. There was no telling what kinds of ferocious storms the brooding sky might disgorge, and she felt no desire to be plucked from this peak by a screaming gale or caught amidst ferocious lightning blasts. Though she felt neither hunger nor thirst, she doubted that would remain the case forever. Starving to death and adding her bones to the mountain held even less appeal. Yet the thing that drove her to her feet was the desire for answers. Who was she? What was she doing in such a ghastly place? How had she come to be here? She needed to know, and she would find no insights here.
BEYOND
PART THREE
She stood atop the mountain, shift and hair blowing in the hot winds. She stared down the steep slopes. They vanished ever downward on all sides into a thick crimson mist.
"Nothing to suggest a route," she said. "No hint as to where I must go." Strangely, the notion held no terror for her. Instinctive as breathing, she closed her eyes and offered up a request to her mother for guidance. To her surprise, she felt a faint warmth upon her cheek, as though a candle flame had been brought close to it for the briefest of moments. The sensation was there and gone, yet it was enough, its touch somehow pure, distinct from the clammy caress of the winds. "Mother? Are you here? Are you my protector, perhaps?" Her questions fell dead and unanswered. Whatever the truth, she knew it would not be as easy as simply demanding answers. She opened her eyes and turned in the direction from which she had felt the warmth. Steeling herself, she stepped carefully out, barefoot, onto the jagged carpet of bones. She began to make her slow and slithering way down the mountainside.
The going was treacherous. An ache built in her muscles until it became dull fire, and her chest tightened reflexively whenever she took in the nightmarish steepness of the slope. In places there was little more than a compacted cliff, and she was forced to spend long minutes scrambling crabwise across the slopes in search of a more forgiving descent. Splinters tore at her. Rusted jags of metal scraped her shins. When she was forced to put her hands down in a hurry, her forearms and palms were scratched and pierced until she left a trail of bright red blood drops behind her to mark her path. Within minutes of beginning her descent, she found her heart thumping and her nerves singing from the constant exertion and peril. Briefly, as she clung by tenuous handholds to a protruding rib cage and felt for a foothold in the shattered arch of some ancient shrine, she contemplated turning back. Perhaps she could try another angle of descent? A glance upwards showed no obvious route of return, and she realized that - now that she had begun this perilous climb - her only option was to press on.
She gathered quickly that the mountain was not just made from the bones of the dead, but more specifically from those that had fallen in battle. It was apparent not only from the ways their limbs and skulls had been smashed, hewn and blasted, but also in the increasing quantities of rusted weaponry, armor and even vehicle hulls that peppered the mountainside. She had been scrambling downwards for perhaps an hour when a tangle of bones she was gripping cracked and gave way. She fell, her stomach lurching at the momentary weightlessness before she hit the slope feet first and spilled awkwardly sideways. Bones cascaded around her, clattering in a hollow storm of remains. She fell with them. She rolled and skidded. She landed just yards before a steep drop. She was gripping a tangled leather object that stopped her fall. She stood, and compelled by a feeling she could not name, she picked it up.
It was a worn leather tunic, and nearby, long leather pants carelessly thrown atop a long leather coat. She let out a gasp as another sensory echo struck her. It was stronger this time, the sound of a blade rasping through metal, flesh and bone, accompanied by the acrid stink of smoke and burning flesh. Then she knew. This outfit used to be hers. It was hers. How that could be, she had not the faintest idea, but she knew it as surely as she still drew breath. As she turned the armor over in her hands, she saw small words and indications that was covered with dust, grime - ancient, no doubt - that identified her as part of an eon's old organisation. "Cora.." she breathed, reading the name on the stitched patch, about an inch wide and half an inch high. "..Perkins. Is that me? Am I Cora?"
The notion felt right, and she resolved that, until it was proved otherwise, she would claim this name for herself. It centered her somehow, made her feel less a wraith of this wasteland and more a being that ventured through it. She considered throwing the armor aside, for it was battered and worn to the point of uselessness. Yet it was the first familiar thing she had seen in all this forsaken realm. She could not bear to part with it. She glanced down at her shift, ragged and torn where it had snagged bone and metal during her fall. She had been lucky not to suffer worse. The armor would at least provide her some protection against another fall. It didn't seem so heavy that it would encumber her overly. Awkwardly, mindful of the drop beneath her, she started to wear it. She slid her arms and legs through the holes then sealed its clasps with an instinctive, practiced ease. She wore the long coat.
As the last clasp clicked into place, she blinked in complete bewilderment. The rips and grime on her armor and jacket slowly faded as though they had never been. The armor she had found had been a long forgotten relic of ages past, but now what she was wearing was brand new, the leather bright and polished and comfortably tight on her slim athletic muscular form. "Mother, whatever miracle this is, I thank you for it." she said. Her spirits buoyed, she forged onward. The descent was still challenging, but with her body and back protected from harm it was at least somewhat less painful.
BEYOND
PART FOUR
Sometime later, a glint of light on metal caught her eye.
Sprawled in the tumbled wreck of a blackened landing craft were a great heap of skeletons, many crushed and mangled, some warped into unnatural shapes that she took care not to touch. There, amidst the mounds of remains, lay the armored lower body of a warrior. Boots, greaves, leg and chest armor - it was all there, rusted into a single mass. Cora felt intense discomfort at seeing that the body had stopped at the waist, the ragged stub of a spine jutting out to vanish under a heavy slab of metal. Nearby were two short swords, rusted, and ancient. But, they looked, somehow, familiar. Tentatively, she reached out and touched one of the blades. She was rocked by the intensity of the echo that washed over her.
Screaming voices, frantic swearing, the sounds of battle with terrible voices cackling and gibbering. The crackle of fire. Explosions and frantic prayers. The howl of escaping air, and a moment of steely determination as she felt herself reel with incoming memories. Cora came back to herself with a jolt. Had she died, she wondered? And if so, how was she alive now? How was such a thing possible? Was she remembering the lives of others, perhaps? Or was this all just some strange trick, part of a greater and crueler ruse that had brought her to this place and consigned her to a living purgatory? She picked up the two short swords, and again, was amazed to see the rust crumble and fall off - and in a moment, the blades were as new as if they left the forge. She stood there looking at them, completely dumbfounded. What was more interesting is how natural they felt in her hands.
"Have I died more than once?" she whispered, shying away from the question when she heard how haunted her voice sounded.
But someone answered. "Yes, you have."
She wheeled around, nearly tripping over herself, and in a gut wrenching moment she couldn't explain she was at the mountain of bone she spent hours descending, in front of a withered old man in a robe holding himself up with a staff. He was bald, and had a grizzled white beard, but his eyes were bright, and sharp. She stood there for a moment, startled, catching her breath. She looked him over for a few minutes longer, not knowing what to expect in this place.
"Who are you?" she began, carefully.
"And it was written in the stars that one would be chosen, from a life of hardship and dedication to have another chance to live a different life. I am one of the last caregivers of an ancient civilization long destroyed." he croaked out. "I am the one responsible for your resurrection, more importantly."
Cora stared at the old man untrustingly. Without moving her head, she looked around and then her eyes went back to him. "Where am i?"
"You are a stranger on a world you once found familiar. Or, I should say, what is left of it." he said. "But, it is not the same world you once remembered. The passing of many millennia has changed many things, Cora, including this place, and everything you knew, including yourself. This world is nothing more than a barren husk, the result of war and powers beyond the scope you could ever hope to imagine."
"How do you know my name?" she asked, "Do you know me? I.." she grimaced, "I..don't remember much. Nothing much at all, really."
The old man chuckled and nodded slowly. "It is funny how destiny works. In this reality, there are many powers beyond your comprehension that influence and oversee mortals to nudge them on paths they would never truly understand. Sometimes, they think they are acting on their own accord, but, at times, someone else is pulling the strings. I know you because I am a servant of one of these powers that govern the universe. I have been watching over you since the day you were born almost six thousand years ago. You should consider yourself lucky, you have been handpicked."
"Handpicked? What does that mean?" Cora asked nervously.
"Do not worry." the old man reassured her. "It will not be like the last time. Those Gods have evolved to other concerns."
Cora blinked at the old man. She just couldn't remember. It made no sense. "What happened to my memory?"
"Come." the old man beckoned her over. "It is a side effect of the reorigination. You may not remember, but you have had a very tragic life, Cora. You have much of your Father in you. But, you took care of him ages ago. You have loved, and lost, laughed and cried, and been angry, very angry for most of it. Believe it or not, this is not the first time you have lost your memory, either. But this time it will be different. The powers that be have decided to be merciful. Now, you can decide how you want your story to start, and to begin. This time, it can be different."
Cora slowly walked closer to the man, and she didn't know why she was. It was all so hard to digest, but she wanted to know more.
"I will make all of your memories available to you, and you can tell me which ones you want to keep, ok?"
Cora mulled over the question. Did she want those memories? Maybe this was a chance to start over. But, she still had so many questions.
"Make this life a good one, ok?" the old man smiled, and touched her forehead.
PRIME MATERIAL
My name is Cora Perkins. About five thousand years ago I was born to a meek mother and an abusive father on a planet called Toril. Tormented as a child by the physical abuse he inflicted upon me, I learned to be afraid, angry, and feral. My mother and I ran away from home, seeking a way to escape a life of pain. She left me in a temple where I soon ran away, socially and physically inept, but filled with rage and frustration. I never saw her again. Dying in an alley after a fight, I was found by a secret military organization who trained me to be a martial weapon and investigator, and taught me the discipline I needed. They were my home, my family. It's where I met Aerik, my work partner. I graduated, found my Father, and murdered him in cold revenge for everything he did to my mother and I.
Attempting a mission that was way over my head, I lost my partner to a Waterdavian beholder crime lord and was ejected from the organization. That's when I became an embittered, sarcastic, and cranky adventurer - spending years travelling from place to place with a new dwarven friend. I will never forget the things I did, the places I saw, and the people I loved. Eventually, the spirit of my dead father tormented my dreams to the point I was drifting into insanity. Seeking a way to end the torment, I made a deal with Hell that lasted exactly two thousand years where I was their champion, and was forced to do their bidding in exchange for a peaceful mind. At least the horrors of hell and the things they made me do were considered easier.
I thought I could trick them, and I found a way. Far in the future, I created technology to escape my Hellish employers, but something went wrong. I landed on a distant world where I had no memory of myself. Eventually, my memory returned when I was reunited with an old friend, and Aerik, my old partner - who had been reborn and was against me. Hunted by a Paladin of Bane for my affiliation with Hell, I was tracked, beaten, and finally killed. When I woke up, I was in a place between, a soul on a plane far away from the living, a place where I could spent all the time I wanted exacting revenge on the spirit of my abusive Father. Reunited in this place that was neither heaven nor hell, cheered on by all the souls of the people I knew in my past life - I took all the time I needed to make sure my Father no longer hurt me ever again.
Now, I am alive once more.
I find myself on a world I have never been - called Eberron. Has some God granted me mercy? Taken notice of the millennia of servitude I gave to Hell and given me reprieve? Pity? Could this be another chance? It is a beautiful world, and finally, after so long, the rage, frustration and anger I have felt has finally melted away. I have no idea what i'm going to do now.
But i'll think of something.
KHORVAIRE
The grassy plain was empty, and stretched on for miles on end in every direction. The tall blades of grass slowly swayed in the wind, unbothered, unfettered. In an instant, a figure was there, slowly walking, hand outstretched and feeling the top of the grass blades on her palms as she strode calmly on the plain. She was not a native of this world, no. Not by any means possible. But, for whatever reason, she had been given another chance. Things in her mind were hazy, and sure, she had questions, but things were a little different with her, as if a massive weight was off her chest. Why here? Why now? Indeed, why at all? She closed her eyes yet smiled softly, feeling the sun and breeze upon her tan face.
Finally. The torment was over. Who could understand the motives and intentions of the Gods, and she was not about to question them. She knew better. In all the lifetimes she experienced, she decided to take what was given and this time try and be happy..even if she started with nothing but her blades, and her leather top and coat.
They called this continent..Khorvaire. And down below the fields was a city called Sharn.
In the spirit of exploration, she pressed on forward.
PROLOGUE TWO - QUEEN BEA
The Hunny Hive is a well known, high class whore house situated in the Firelight district, run by the one and only Queen Bea. She was an accidental pregnancy, as her mother was a prostitute herself, but that didn't stop her from doing her job. After all, you would be surprised at how much money people would pay to **** a pregnant woman.
Shortly after her birth, she was dumped in an orphanage and raised in poor conditions which only worsened when a strange mark burned itself on her sternum. She was teased endlessly by the other children (as rags could only cover so much) to a point where she planned to run away at the age of 16. It was an easy escape since none of the orphanage workers cared in the first place, but life in the streets wasn't easy for her at all till she found an easy way to make money. All she had to do was dance on a pole.
It didn't take long for her to realize she was a fairly good dancer with an ability to weave magic and illusions to her whim while she performed. The shows would leave the men and women coming back and wanting more, in which she was willing to supply. She loved the attention, and loved the money that came along with it. There were many men and women who yearned for her and when she became of legal age, whatever innocence she had left was finally taken from her.
There was one man who constantly could be seen watching her shows and requesting her services; Alexi Romanov. A powerful and wealthy man from the House of Phiarlan who was quick to let Bea know of what powers she possessed and how she would use them to her benefit.
Eventually, she left the house she worked in, and with the money she saved and some of what he provided her, she opened The Hunny Hive, a place where you could pay for services with valuable information or gold. Her business was successful, her girls were the best of the best, and her shows would pack full houses back to back, so how did she end up on this sort of mission?
Alexi, of course. The man sought out information that she could extract from the target with ease. The hunt was what enticed her the most. A man who couldn't control himself around the face of a pretty woman. All she needed to do was find him first, and this is where it would all begin.
SHARN
A NEW CITY
It tooks Cora days to make it to Sharn, and she was impressed at how the city literally towered atop a cliff above the mouth of a massive river. She took her time, made her way through the different districts and ignored the stares she got as she casually strolled through a city she had never been in before. Wearing her renewed leathers, her trench coat, and her blades holstered on her right leg, it was like it was three thousand years ago, back in the Academy.
BUT NO PURPOSE
What do the Gods have in store for me this time? All I know I've been given a second chance, nothing more. Thousands of years of memories I've experienced and now I find myself with no purpose, no direction. And, yet..no anger? For a very brief moment, she tried to think back as far as she could, and like trying to piece together a dream that was vastly in the furthest recess of her mind, she tried to think of her loved ones.
SHE FELT ALONE
As hard as she tried, she could not remember. She grew lonely, and wanting. A warm, growing yearning was brewing inside her and wanted to distract her loneliness with the loving touch of a woman. I wouldn't matter who - she just wanted to feel something else for instead of an empty purposeless new life.
PRIMAL URGES
She continued to walk and came across a very fancy establishment. "What the ****? The..Hunny Hive?" she muttered. Making a face of curiosity she peeked inside. "Holy shit." she said. The place was an extremely upper scale establishment, and seemed to accommodate a wide variety of carnal pleasures. Beautiful men and women entertained patrons of all varieties and Cora slowly, curiously, carefully, walked in and looked around further in. The smell of sweetness permeated everything. Dancers, drink, rooms, stages, and poles. In some areas, the salty smell of sweat would be in the air, but not unpleasantly so. She stood there, and so amazed by the place, absentmindedly took a seat in a very comfortable couch and watched the men and women currently on stage dance. It was intoxicating how beautiful they were. Whoever owned this place had certainly taken the time to find the sexiest samples anyone with any taste would want - and for many moments Cora was in awe, having never seen anything like this place. One of the female dancers had finished, left the stage, and slowly walked around allowing men and women to tip her for her dancing.
Cora watched the beautiful girl make her rounds, and when the rogue turned back to the stage. A new girl that had gotten up to dance next. Cora gasped in surprise as all the air had left her lungs in a rush - for a second she couldn't breathe. "Oh ****.." was all she could say.
BEAUTY PERSONIFIED
Cora stared, unashamed, at the new dancer. Such grace. Such skill. The dancer was extremely talented to say the least and was gorgeous in the most sexual way. At times Cora felt nearly numb, her heart pounding in her chest, and had trouble, at time, staying in her seat. She couldn't take her eyes of this woman, and was completely hypnotized the way her body moved. A serving girl came by and offered to bring her a drink, and Cora vacantly nodded her head yes.
PROLOGUE THREE - ATHELA NAWYRN
Ow ow ow. Pain. Grey. Running-why do they hurt so much-keep holding her hand-oh god, it hurts-what's going on-it stopped, why did it stop. Look behind us, it really did. I'm staring at a wall of grey mist that just...stops at the banks of the Cyre River. Standing on lightning rail tracks, gotta get off this bridge. Green hand starting to pull sis away-wait, green? What? Why am I-at least legs don't hurt anymore-where are legs? Can't feel them. Can't stay up. Falling...
Athela jerked awake in bed. "Not again," she muttered. Dreams weren't stopping, it'd been four years. She glanced down at her hand, the skin the color of the short, tough grass that clung to the rooftops of Overlook. Looking out the tiny window, she can see the dark orange of sunrise. Gritting her teeth, she scoots over to the edge of the bed. Four years and she still wasn't used to this. Using her hands, she carefully dropped into the wheelchair beside her bed and quietly wheeled out the door, careful not to wake the redheaded lump sleeping in the other bed.
Up on the roof (a feat that took some serious finesse and made her very grateful for the climbing apparatus installed into her wheelchair by a local Cannith), Athela smiled as orange light broke through the towers looming above her. The kalashtar that lived in this area of Overlook had put up small crystals on all the roofs that refracted light across them, turning the roofs of this swath of the district into a garden of light. It reminded her of the floating gardens of Metrol. Quietly, Athela unfolded the slip of paper in her pocket and looked at it. An invitation to a socialite and explorer' home. A gnome. Hopefully she didn't know anything about the girls-gnomes did love intrigue. Taking a deep breath, Athela turned and began wheeling her way back into the room to tell her sister about the invitation.
PROLOGUE FOUR - AVERIAN D'LYRANDAR
Averian d’Lyrandar, hailed as the start of a new generation of the Khoravar. His inborn abilities harnessed a previously unknown power, either from a deeper connection to the Dragonmark or something different.
He was given the same training as any other member of Lyrandar, but all his teachers emphasized his unique responsibility to the House. He was given power to protect the House’s interests. He was given the duty of obeying the House’s leaders. He was destined for greatness, if only he did those things.
Of course, no one could ever hope to constrain someone with the sea and skies churning inside of them. His innate desire was to be unbound, to be free to wander the world as he pleased instead of spending his time standing guard or being studied. So when the opportunity came, he seized it. He took the first steps towards distancing himself from his House, although he is still afraid of cutting ties completely.
PROLOGUE FIVE -WILLOW TWILIGHT
Willow remembered it all clearly. Her magic, her abandonment, but especially what came after. Her magic had always allowed her to access a more primal part of herself, and despite its uses, her family always saw the use of her own blood for magic as heretical. Traitorous. Her magic allowed her to access the better side of her. The cunning side, elegant and regal like she was raised but wild in nature. The mist had brought that out in her. Made it... More apparent. Although her older sister endured much more of it's effect, skin now green and wheelchair bound. Willow was bestowed a more animal like appearance. Matching with her already slightly pointed nose were a new pair of fox ears and a tail, a slightly darker color than her naturally ginger/redish hair. However, with this new foxlike appearance came a more primal urge, an easily lost temper, and an urge to chase smaller animals. Willow used this as a fuel, focusing on her magic and helping her older sister whenever she would allow. There was always a sense of guilt. Even after four years.
Willow woke up to an empty room, her sister no where in sight. This was relatively common to her. What was also common was the upkeep of her form. Like every morning since 'Then' she would tend to the fur on her ears and tail, brushing it much like she would her hair before checking her appearance and heading out to find Athela. By the time Willow had awoken, the sun had already rised a little past sunrise and the smaller critters were out and about. Checking in with Athela to see if she needed anything, Willow would then dismiss herself, her rapier strapped to her back and her dagger on her hip as she headed out to the nearby wooded area. Careful not to stray to far, she would hide her equiptment in a nearby bush and assume her more animalistic form. Lost in her thoughts, she would hunt animals ranging from small rodents to larger birds. Anything she could get her paws on. Having a few snacks here and there, she would pile anything leftover near her equipment and resume her more human form, calmly straightening her fur on her ears and tail.
She would tie the leftover animals, redon her equipment and weapons, and carry the freshly hunted animals back to where they were staying. Placing them on the blood clothed counter, she would begin to prepare her sisters breakfast. However, this morning was different. Her sister had a slightly more serious look to her face, and a piece of paper in her hands. Things were about to change, and Willow knew they would be moving on again. They always did.
AROUND KHORVAIRE IN FIFTY DAYS - PROLOGUE CAMPAIGN
PART ONE - DEPARTURE FROM SKYDOCK SIX
What's this? A job?
Some of you might know her name. You saw the ads, they were impossible to miss. An illustrious explorer named Angelica Estrella d’Sivis has planned a journey around all of Khorvaire in attempts to create a map more detailed and magnificent than any created before. She has hired academics, crew, and mercenaries to join in her journey, and you all applied - and were hired! Whether you’re here to help her in her cartography, run the ship, or protect it from danger, simply traveling aboard the Celeste Noir will be one of the greatest adventures you’ve ever embarked upon - you're convinced. Together, you plan to travel around the continent of Khorvaire in fifty days, stopping at various cities and points of interest to rest, refuel, and explore.
You're hired!
So here you are. Those chosen out of dozens to be a part of her crew. Here is a map of Khorvaire.
Angelica Estrella d’Sivis
Our beginning finds you all gathered at the door of the flat of Angelica Estrella d’Sivis, a cheery gnome and an eccentric explorer. You are all in Upper Dura, a district in the sky-scraping city of Sharn. The sky-scraping towers of Sharn are stratified by wealth and social class, with those of wealth and means at the top and those without below. However, Dura Quarter is the city's oldest and poorest district. As such, even its highest point, it’s still a middle-class neighborhood, comparable to Middle Menthis or some other middle-tier ward. Some of you have lived here, some of you are just visiting. But upon being hired, you gather outside of Angelica d’Sivis’s flat, whose exterior is festooned with wind chimes, weathervanes, and other bits of eclectic paraphernalia.
After a moment of awkward tension, the door springs open, and a sprightly gnome appears. Her silver hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and a pair of oversized, circular spectacles magnify her tiny eyes. A glimmering symbol, almost like a tattoo, sparkles on her left temple. “You’re here for Angelica Estrella d’Sivis, Explorer Extraordinaire, right? Speaking. Please, come in.”
The Details..
The interior of Angelica’s flat is just as cluttered with glittering esoterica as the outside. She sits them down on well-worn armchairs and lays out the terms of her contract. In short, Angelica is conducting a cartographical survey of Khorvaire to note how the landscape has changed in the hundred-odd years since the beginning of the Last War, noting new settlements, abandoned towns, arboreal growth or shrinkage, and most importantly, the potential spread of the Mournland—the inhospitable wasteland in the continent’s center that was once a nation called Cyre. She is also testing the power of a brand-new, state-of-the-art airship provided to her by the engineers of House Cannith known as the Celeste Noir. They claim that this fabulous craft can circle Khorvaire in fifty days—or fewer! She intends to put this claim, and her navigational skills, to the test with the Celeste Noir’s maiden voyage.
In exchange for aiding her in her survey—either as crewmembers, mercenary guards, or fellow surveyors—they will be provided meals and lodging, paid a weekly stipend, and allowed to keep any objects they find over the course of the expedition, provided they aren’t vital to Angelica’s research, of course. She produces a simple, easy-to-read contract to her prospective employees.
A half-orc in a well-made wooden wheelchair wheels herself in, eyes touching on the large quantity of strange...things in Angelica's flat. She wears simple leather armor, a walking staff hangs from the back of her wheelchair beside a shortbow and a quiver of arrows, and a long necklace in the Cyran style is clasped around her neck. A black cord is looped around twice her upper right arm and tied with a knot. Dark green hair (quite unusual for a half-orc) is tied back from her face in a flowing style. Athela glances at Willow throughout the explanation of the job, raising an eyebrow at the pale, redheaded shifter. "What do you think, sis? Time to take a trip?"
Picture:
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Willow shrugs and looks to Athela with a smile. "Aren't I always?" The redhead/ginger moves to brush her fingers along the fur of the fox ears that adorn her head before straightening her tail. Her hair is pulled back simply in a bun, she adjusts the rapier tied to her back and checks the dagger on her hip before tilting her head slightly, her ears cocking themselves naturally. Her outfit is much less elegant than Athela's. Adorned in mainly shades of black with thick boots and leather fingerless gloves on her hands, she contrasted her sister quite a lot and her hair even more so.
Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Willow Twilight|Swiftstride Shifter|Blood Hunter|Ebberon|Retired
Meephylia Polliwog|Grung|Dragon Sorcerer|Descent To Avernus|Retired
Ashryn Rairs|Changeling|Hexblade Warlock|Out Of The Abyss|Dead
A half-elf stands straight in a long, white robe marked with the symbol of House Lyrandar. As every person walks into the room, he scans them nervously. He seems filled with a desire to leave the place, but remains nonetheless. On his back is a plain, wooden quarterstaff on top of a large backpack.
What was a queen without her hive?
It had been ages since the last time Bea left her establishment for something like this to a point where she already felt homesickness as she walked down the street to the explorers household. She felt a bit out of place in this part of Sharn (as she had mostly spent her time in the Firelight district for obvious reasons), but despite the mixture of emotions she was feeling, she strut her way with her head held high. She wasn't going to let Alexi down.
To put it simply, she was a beautiful woman; had shoulder length honey blonde hair that bounced with each step, piercing blue eyes, lightly tanned skin (the only mark that 'blemished' her features was one birthmark strategically placed near her red tinted lips), a slim body tightened into a leather corset that accentuated her curves and brought much attention to her busty chest. It earned her a few whistles as she passed by, in which she would simply return them with a cheeky wink and a blown kiss. Of course, she had her belt that held her dagger and rapier, but many don't pay too much attention to that when they had other things to look at.
She walked into the flat with a smile, and when explained what they were going to be doing, the feeling of homesickness being washed away and replaced with eagerness. "Oh I can't wait to tell my little honey bees all about my adventures when I get back. How excitin'!"
Aeyd of the Dragons || Wood Elf / Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk
Demetrios Zalaoras || Protector Aasimar / Paladin of Torm
Hawke || Kalashtar / Circle of the Moon Druid
Morticia || Half-Aasimar Rogue
Yvan || Goliath / Path of the Wild Soul Barbarian | Paladin of Helm
/ᐠ。ꞈ。ᐟ\
A PLEASANT SURPRISE.
Cora "Crispy" Perkins entered the flat - looking around. The place was a complete mess of shit, and she had no idea what she was looking at, any of it. She had received the message that she got hired, and she double checked the address outside to make sure she was in the right spot. She was. Once again, she peeked out and checked the address. Yup, this is it. After inspecting the place, she looked over the other people who, apparently, were chosen for the job.
We have a half elf caster type, a half-orc in a wheelchair? What the hell? Another woman. And.."Ahh!"
The she saw Bea and nearly toppled over in shock. "What the ****!" she barked, alarmed. Confused. A little amused.
It was her! The woman from the Hunny Hive! Except..clothed. And not dancing like she was hours ago that held Cora's attention so captive. The one who she paid a little extra for..uh, a little extra honey. Hunny. Whatever.
"Uh." she stared at Bea. "You're the.." she began, trying to find the words, then decided not to - getting right to the point instead of stating the obvious. "What..are you doing..here?" she asked, her eyebrow raised.
Cora was a young woman with an appearance of her late 20s, very early 30s. She had dark brown hair, impossibly light blue eyes, and tan skin, as if she had spent most of her life outdoors, completely sunkissed. Her skin was smooth, and she wore tight fitting leather armor that allowed ease of movement and flexibility. She had a long leather jacket, and a blade holster attached to her right thigh for easy access of two wicked short swords. Physically, she was slender and while not having such an obvious bust like Bea, Cora was clearly curvy, very tone with lean tight muscle, and athletic. It is clear that Cora has spent her life fighting in close combat.
Willow eyes the others as they mingle, her tail and ears twitching on occasion. She whispers curiously to Athela. "Quite a... variety of appearance... aren't they? And here I thought we were going to stand out."
Willow's eyes take a minute to scan over the things in the room before she slowly shifts her feet, her eyes landing on the wind chimes off to one side of the room. Almost instantly, Athela can tell what is going through her sister's mind.
Shiny batty noisy thingy. Why must you be so alluring.
As Willow would move to inch closer, Athela would grab her wrist to hold her in place. Her fox ears, however, twitched more with interest as she glanced over at the chimes every few seconds.
Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Willow Twilight|Swiftstride Shifter|Blood Hunter|Ebberon|Retired
Meephylia Polliwog|Grung|Dragon Sorcerer|Descent To Avernus|Retired
Ashryn Rairs|Changeling|Hexblade Warlock|Out Of The Abyss|Dead
Uh. Cora thought. That one has fox ears. And a tail. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.