As you start to hail a rickshaw back to the departure area, the gnome vendor Lamai Tyenmo hurries over to speak with you, her hair wild with a hard night's work.
"Well? Did you learn who's been stealing from me? Was it the Xungoons? Did you hear they had my wok, too? The thieving has to stop! It's like the old days all over again!"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Harrow blinks at the woman blearily, massaging his lower back, before saying, "Yes, yes, we've figured out what plagues your stall, though to be fair, we've heard more about how they're targeting the Xungoons. It's a complicated story involving invisible fey and bitter feelings, but you might be surprised to learn that the Xungoons were never your enemy. Were I you, I might try apologizing to them; in fact, I'd start with the child that you assaulted at the beginning of the night. We've handled the rest." He gives her a hard look that, after a moment, breaks into a softer countenance. "I've promised to keep an accord, but I likewise promise this: your torment has come to an end. If it continues, you may contact me in the Radiant Citadel, and I will arrive in an unforgiving rage and I will see to it that your tormentors cease to exist." He rubs his temples for a moment before writing an address on another scrap of paper that he hands over before glancing at Tuuli and Walt, as if to say, Do you disagree?
As your rickshaw pulls away to return to the hilltop landing zone, Lamai gives you an uncertain nod, a look of patience and uneasy acceptance on her face, Harrow's scrap of paper in her hand flapping in the sweet-smelling midnight breeze.
It is approaching midnight. Your rickshaw is a colorfully-painted, wooden, two-wheeled contraption driven by an elderly, hunchbacked man riding a tiger-like beast adorned with many bells. Three passengers make the ride tight, but based on similar vehicles you see pulling off into the distance, commonplace.
Your jingly rickshaw climbs the dark, neatly-landscaped hill out of the city, leaving the colorful lights and delicious smells of the night market behind, and back into the faint glow and sweet aromas of the bioluminescent lau-pop flowers bordering the path. You arrive at the graveled landing area of the Concord Jewel, and indeed you already see the twinkle of the massive jewel making its slow, silent, 600-foot descent to the ground. It lands with a soft crunch.
Just before you step through the intangible ruby walls of your craft, you look back down the hill for one last look at the Dyn Singh Night Market as the lights begin to be extinguished, one by one. The Night Market is closed for the evening.
Weeks pass at the Radiant Citadel. Tuuli is back serving drinks at The Catford Cask with her coworker Ruby; it's become rather busy lately as arcane traders and ironworkers from San Citlán have discovered that the Cat's garapiñas are especially strong and tasty. Harrow is back at work at the Godsbreath embassy, a tiny understaffed office doing more customs and tax assessments than diplomacy for the tightly-knit, agricultural lands of Godsbreath, which, like Siabsungkoh and San Citlán, is one of the fifteen founding civilizations of the Citadel. Walt spends his days whittling, napping, and of course, drinking at the Catford Cask. (He also finds the owl’s wing ring to be a completely nonmagical trinket.)
Word eventually reaches you from travelers to the Night Market in Siabsungkoh that the Spicy Brothers shop has closed up. Vi Aroon moved to the other side of Siabsungkoh, bringing a mildly-depressed Kasem with him, and departing with all their peppers, garish uniforms, and wynlings. What became of the brothers (or the wynlings) subsequent to their departure is unknown, but the mysterious events in the night market have ended, and the Tyenmo and Xungoon families have stopped feuding. Indeed, you hear that Lamai and Kusa have reconciled and even bonded over the experience. Via a courier, they send you a package containing 100 gold pieces and a single dried lau-pop blossom as a thank you for whatever dark magic you performed that night to end the problems, together with a lifetime of meals from their stalls. (Divvy up the gold accordingly and update your character sheets!)
(Welcome to Level 3. You may update your characters and purchase anything you might require at normal PHB prices.)
You have successfully completed Salted Legacy, the first adventure of Journeys through the Radiant Citadel.
We will start the second adventure soon for whoever wants to join. For those of you who had to drop out midway, you're warmly invited to join in again, if you feel up to it. Just let me know! Everyone will advance to 3rd Level, whether you completed the adventure or not. You can even take the opportunity to change characters, if you feel your old one wasn't working.
I'd also love any feedback you have on Salted Legacy, which I understand was based loosely on Thai culture and tradition. My own thoughts on Salted Legacy: I feel that, like the first adventure (the carnival) in Witchlight, it was designed to be played in a single table session with players who might be new to the game, or strangers to each other - lots of minigames, lots of safety nets, and little combat. An icebreaker of sorts. How that translated as a two-month PBP, I'm not sure. The next adventure won't be quite as safe...
Also, since the Radiant Citadel adventures are completely independent of each other (as far as I've read!) and not a big messy overlapping campaign, I can completely and openly answer any remaining questions you might have about that first adventure. (Not that your characters can't go back at any time for free noodles!) Indeed, you are welcome to read the whole adventure directly - https://www.dndbeyond.com/sources/jttrc/salted-legacy - just don't read beyond the end of the chapter, pretty pretty please!
Some few days after their adventure finds Tuuli sitting morosely on the customer side of the bar at the Catford Cask. She is leaning heavily on the counter, swinging back and forth on the stool, a ball of yarn sitting in front of her, somewhat unraveled.
”I’ve tried everything,” she complains to the bartender on duty, Milla, a tiefling. “Picking up a new hobby. But knitting isn’t maybe one of my strengths,” she holds up what might be a scarf? But it’s just not, “I got a pet,” she says, waving a hand at the common room of the tavern, where there’s a yowl and a rush of white as a fluffy cat streaks out from under a table, chased by two others. As the cats race past her, Tuuli gestures and the white one lifts into the air and floats gently to her lap. “Hey Lucky,” she says as the cat is deposited in her lap, and immediately tangles itself in the scarf… maybe it’s a cat blanket?
”I threw myself in to my work,” Tuuli goes on, petting the cat. She looks up at the daily board above the bar. ‘Ruby’s Grapiñas’ it says, followed by ‘Limited time: Hot hot honey drop, management not responsible for customer pain.’
”And that was great, but we’re almost out of that one pepper, and Kasem and Vi picked up shop and left, so that’s done.”
Milla makes an understanding noise and moves to wipe down the bar further away. Tuuli just kind of waves as her head falls on to the bar. “Yeah, I know. I’m just so bored. Booooored.” Lucky looks up at her and mews, hopelessly tangled in the yarn. Tuuli snaps her fingers and the cat disappears, then pops back into existence at a second snap, this time on the bar and yarn-free.
”I even tried to make new friends, and the less we talk about that, the better.”Ruby, the elf hostess pats Tuuli sympathetically on the back as she passes. “Nobody deserves to be dumped three times in three days, babe.”
”I know!” Tuuli gives a little wail from where her cheek is mashed onto the bar. Lucky is batting at Tuuli’s copious hair, which is wafting in her personal breeze.
”I just wish there were some kind of, I don’t know, adventure, in the offing.” She sighs dramatically.
Walt went about his business after that night at the market. At first, he fell into his old routine. Whittling away at various pieces of found wood by day and making a fool out of himself at the Cat by night. After a week or so, that got a little old. Then Walt got to thinking, that night at the market was the most fun he’s had in quite some time.
Up until that night, his studies in the ways of the Druid had been, just that, mere studies. Previously, he hadn’t spent much time in wild shape. And he never really put it to good use. For the first time since putting his wife to rest and closing up his woodworking shape in Jigow, Walt actually felt a zest for life once again.
Walt delved deep into the nature journals and Star charts the he has kept since he was a young lad. He went out far away from town and focused in utilizing his wild shape. He transformed into giant lizards, wolves, elk, and his favorite the mule. Through his studies and guidance from the Wild Mother, his connections with nature and himself deepened.
He returned from his pilgrimage a new person, more in tune with himself and his surroundings, and eager for his next adventure.
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Pronouns: he/him/his
Pud - lvl 7 Human Artificer - Alchemist (The Wild Beyond the Witchlight).
Quinn - lvl 4 Human Ranger - Hunter (Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk)
Harrow's routine had been completely disrupted in the days and weeks since that night at the Market. He went to work, then went home. He didn't remember the walks there or back. In the back of his mind, he saw the eyes of a giant prawn appearing out of dark water, felt his body break beneath his weight.
For the first week, he read during his free time. All of it. He knew his garden was suffering for it, but he didn't care. He didn't eat much, and stopped going to his usual haunts for dinner. He wouldn't say it out loud, but going to the Catford Cask was simply not an option, because if he saw Walt or Tuuli or the others that had been there with him that night, he was certain he'd be sick. He didn't want to see his mother, because she could read him too well. So he buried himself in books and busywork. It didn't last.
After a week, Harrow's mother Lena came. She seemed shorter and frailer as she stood outside his doorway, a covered dish of something held tight against her chest. She pushed past him into the apartment with her usual quickness, though, and something behind Harrow's breastbone uncoiled before he was aware it was coiled. She set the dish down and surveyed the room: meticulously clean, as always. Then she looked at him.
"Ever since you were little, when you were upset, you look to be by yourself. Your father, he was the same." A lump in Harrow's throat prevented him from saying anything in response. Lena smiled and stepped closer, put a bony hand on his arm. "You don't got to talk, Harrow. Just keep comin' to see me. I was worried; still am, but now I see you, and I know you have food and you're not hurt, and that's good enough for now."
Harrow swallowed the lump in his throat and croaked, "I think I almost died last week."
Lena nodded, though her eyes widened and her mouth went thin and bloodless. "But you're safe now," she said, wrapping him up in a hug. He returned the embrace gently, though he knew he was more fragile in this moment than she was.
"I am,"he agreed.
Shortly after that, Harrow resumed his routine. He went to the Catford Cask and, despite the strange flashes of anxiety that were still ebbing away, he felt good doing it, though he didn't see Walt there. He visited his mother and cooked with her. He tended to his garden, which had largely forgiven him for his lapse in maintenance.
He added a new activity to his routine: magical self-defense. After consulting with some of his friends and peers, Harrow was able to find a group that met three times a week to discuss and practice techniques for keeping oneself safe. And with the help of one of the more experienced members of the group, he started a project: Awakening his spellbook. It took a week to finish the preparations for the ritual, which itself lasted a couple of hours, but the end result was very much worth the effort.
His spellbook was aware. Theirs was a young awareness, and largely limited to the arcana contained within the book, but they were an intensely curious being with a creative mind. They could work together on acts of magic, giving him more adaptability in his casting. He could transcribe new spells into his spellbook much more quickly with their aid. He named the book Lazuli; he'd had to make ink from lapis lazuli to awaken the consciousness inside, and they liked that name better than the others.
Welcome to Godsbreath! Stepping through the intangible, semitranslucent reddish-yellow walls of the Concord Jewel you arrived in, you are greeted by sunshine and warmth. The welcome brilliance of the sun is something you miss after weeks at the sunless and weatherless Radiant Citadel.
It is morning. You stand in tall green grass along an empty but well-traveled road. Thick stands of tall trees cluster along the roadside. A modest but well-kept farmhouse is visible in the distance.
It was Harrow who invited you to Godsbreath. He works as an archivist for the tiny Godsbreath embassy at the Citadel, although his duties are evidently broader than just archiving. You also recall that he has a personal connection to this place.
But your memory is a little cloudy. It was quite a scene at the Catford Cask last night. Those garapiñas are evidently stronger than they first appear. You remember Harrow, in his enthusiasm, inviting you to join him to something called the "Awakening Festival" in the town of Promise in Godsbreath to hear some kind of song... but you forgot the details already. Harrow's enthusiasm last night was so great, in fact, that he even invited some yokel with a great axe from the next table and a random heavily-armored dwarf who's clearly new in town, to join your party.
Now you stand in the morning sun, smelling the warm breeze off some distant field, wondering how exactly you were talked into this. Harrow is here, but he's not as talkative as he was last night. But he knows which way to walk to get to Promise.
Tuuli stretches and spins once. "It is so good to be out in the fresh air. I miss the wind!" and on cue a gust blows through.
"Oh! Sorry, guys." She pulls a bundle of white fur out of her side slung satchel. "Lucky, look, it's a real place with dirt and everything," and she sets the cat on the ground.
(Description for the newcomers...)
Tuuli is so light on her feet she almost seems to float. Her skin is blue, her hair, too, though so light as to be almost white. That hair! There is a lot of it, and it floats in long and flowing tresses, moved by its own private breeze. She's very pretty, dressed in sort of flowy clothes, loose pants, short boots, and a small pack and pouch to go with the rapier at her side.
She brought her backpack on this trip, because she hazily remembers something about camping... or singing...
She carries herself with a certain amount of joyful poise, as it were, with a ready smile and a playful touch. And she has a fluffy white cat named Lucky.
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ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he). Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Bendrak smiles at Tuuli. "Aye, some proper countryside!"He bends down and pets the cat carefully on its head.
Bendrak is a tall, burly man with a handsome but weathered face. His clothing and equipment is simple, but well-made, and he's been joking and telling stories since meeting with the group this morning. It's a notable change from last night, when he was visibly uncomfortable and mostly keeping to himself, tightly clutching a waterskin in one hand and eating with the other. He half expected the offer of work to be some kind of joke, but showed up anyway, happy that someone was in need of a strong arm.
Harrow stands with his companions, feeling faintly embarrassed and very lightly nauseated. The sunlight is too bright, and despite his best efforts, he can still taste a ghostly trace of alcohol on his breath. His spellbook is crooked in his right arm, resting against his hip, and he's got a small backpack with a waterskin fastened to the side. He takes a deep breath of the rich, sweet, warm air and musters his best smile before turning to the others.
"We're not too far from Promise; it's down this way." He gestures down the road, squinting against the light. "And... Thank you all for coming with me. It's been a very long time since I came here, and I'm glad for the company."
When the offer came from the drunken fellow in the bar to join an expedition, Baldar jumped at the chance. Having been in the Radiant Citadel but a couple weeks, it quickly became apparent to her that the Ethereal Plane was a big place. To accomplish her search would involve exploring some of the other lands. No matter how long it took, she was determined, even in death she would keep looking.
Standing now in the bright sun she looks none too worse for wear after last night due to her dwarven constitution. The light reflects a little off her bald head but aside from the heavy armor and intimidating battleaxe strapped to her back, she wore a friendly smile that reached all the way to her eyes.
Walt, as per usual, fell behind pace from the group. The sheer natural beauty of this area has him bewitched. The sunlight warming the pine needles on the ground, mixed with what smells vaguely reminiscent of incense cedar, create a most intoxicating aroma. Walt is in his element. He's constantly stooping down picking up stones, inspecting them and keeping a few of the finer specimens along the way. He even found several small pieces of hardwood with intricate woodgrain.
"Ah, this here will do. Yes, I think this will work out nicely,"Walt whispers to himself under his breath. He stashes one piece of wood in his pack and pulls out his whittling knife, immediately going to work. He's dallied about for too long. Walt picks up his pace, and rejoins his friends.
He stands beside Harrow, noticing he looks a little nauseated, perhaps a bit hungover from last night at the Cat. "Good morning, Harrow. Feeling alright?"Walt pauses a moment, before continuing on "Thank you for inviting me to the festival. This place is absolutely beautiful. Where I'm from, the land is mostly arid and deserted. Forests such as these are quite rare back home."
(ooc: If our path takes us near a stream or creek, Walt would like to search for some wild mint leaves. He'd like to make a tea to help settle Harrow's belly.)
Nature check: 9
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Pronouns: he/him/his
Pud - lvl 7 Human Artificer - Alchemist (The Wild Beyond the Witchlight).
Quinn - lvl 4 Human Ranger - Hunter (Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk)
Walt looks towards Harrow and says "Those drinks last night were a wee bit stronger than I expected...I'm still feeling it myself! I'm going to pop into the woods and see if I can find some herbs to make a tea to sooth my belly."
With that, Walt runs up ahead and spends a few brief moments searching the damp green grasses to no avail. He heads back to the group empty handed.
"No luck with the herbs," Walt says to Harrow. He reaches around and digs into his pack, fishing out a stale old roll he brought along for the trek. He rips off a hunk and eats a piece while offering up the other portion to Harrow.
Lucky makes an adorable mewling sound when Bendrak pets him, then trots after Tuuli.
The genasi smiles knowingly as Walt and Harrow dance around the topic of hangovers. “Say the word, and I’ll put you on the alcohol-free customer list we keep behind the bar. Still tasty, without the long term… effects.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he). Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Harrow takes the roll with a grin, looking at Tuuli and Walt. "I appreciate the thought, friends, but I'll be fine. I suspect my present state is due to trying that cocktail rather than sticking to my usual ale," he says, shrugging sheepishly. "It was very tasty, though."
As he begins to lead the way, he says, "I know I spoke at length about the Awakening Festival last night, but allow me to give you a brief refresher on its significance. The Awakening Song is the history of this land from its founding on, and it's sung over the course of several days. The Meet happens during the Festival as well: people from across the land come here to settle disputes, make agreements, and redress wrongs. There will be traders aplenty. The last time I came, it was beautiful."
She smiles widely, “Of course! Maybe we can find a fun one!” and she is off to hail a ride.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
As you start to hail a rickshaw back to the departure area, the gnome vendor Lamai Tyenmo hurries over to speak with you, her hair wild with a hard night's work.
"Well? Did you learn who's been stealing from me? Was it the Xungoons? Did you hear they had my wok, too? The thieving has to stop! It's like the old days all over again!"
Harrow blinks at the woman blearily, massaging his lower back, before saying, "Yes, yes, we've figured out what plagues your stall, though to be fair, we've heard more about how they're targeting the Xungoons. It's a complicated story involving invisible fey and bitter feelings, but you might be surprised to learn that the Xungoons were never your enemy. Were I you, I might try apologizing to them; in fact, I'd start with the child that you assaulted at the beginning of the night. We've handled the rest." He gives her a hard look that, after a moment, breaks into a softer countenance. "I've promised to keep an accord, but I likewise promise this: your torment has come to an end. If it continues, you may contact me in the Radiant Citadel, and I will arrive in an unforgiving rage and I will see to it that your tormentors cease to exist." He rubs his temples for a moment before writing an address on another scrap of paper that he hands over before glancing at Tuuli and Walt, as if to say, Do you disagree?
Intimidation (it just feels appropriate): 9
“What he means, madam,” Tuuli calls from the rickshaw, “Is that we have handled the business, and we are going to be late for the crystal.”
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
As your rickshaw pulls away to return to the hilltop landing zone, Lamai gives you an uncertain nod, a look of patience and uneasy acceptance on her face, Harrow's scrap of paper in her hand flapping in the sweet-smelling midnight breeze.
It is approaching midnight. Your rickshaw is a colorfully-painted, wooden, two-wheeled contraption driven by an elderly, hunchbacked man riding a tiger-like beast adorned with many bells. Three passengers make the ride tight, but based on similar vehicles you see pulling off into the distance, commonplace.
Your jingly rickshaw climbs the dark, neatly-landscaped hill out of the city, leaving the colorful lights and delicious smells of the night market behind, and back into the faint glow and sweet aromas of the bioluminescent lau-pop flowers bordering the path. You arrive at the graveled landing area of the Concord Jewel, and indeed you already see the twinkle of the massive jewel making its slow, silent, 600-foot descent to the ground. It lands with a soft crunch.
Just before you step through the intangible ruby walls of your craft, you look back down the hill for one last look at the Dyn Singh Night Market as the lights begin to be extinguished, one by one. The Night Market is closed for the evening.
Weeks pass at the Radiant Citadel. Tuuli is back serving drinks at The Catford Cask with her coworker Ruby; it's become rather busy lately as arcane traders and ironworkers from San Citlán have discovered that the Cat's garapiñas are especially strong and tasty. Harrow is back at work at the Godsbreath embassy, a tiny understaffed office doing more customs and tax assessments than diplomacy for the tightly-knit, agricultural lands of Godsbreath, which, like Siabsungkoh and San Citlán, is one of the fifteen founding civilizations of the Citadel. Walt spends his days whittling, napping, and of course, drinking at the Catford Cask. (He also finds the owl’s wing ring to be a completely nonmagical trinket.)
Word eventually reaches you from travelers to the Night Market in Siabsungkoh that the Spicy Brothers shop has closed up. Vi Aroon moved to the other side of Siabsungkoh, bringing a mildly-depressed Kasem with him, and departing with all their peppers, garish uniforms, and wynlings. What became of the brothers (or the wynlings) subsequent to their departure is unknown, but the mysterious events in the night market have ended, and the Tyenmo and Xungoon families have stopped feuding. Indeed, you hear that Lamai and Kusa have reconciled and even bonded over the experience. Via a courier, they send you a package containing 100 gold pieces and a single dried lau-pop blossom as a thank you for whatever dark magic you performed that night to end the problems, together with a lifetime of meals from their stalls. (Divvy up the gold accordingly and update your character sheets!)
(Welcome to Level 3. You may update your characters and purchase anything you might require at normal PHB prices.)
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Hey @everyone!
You have successfully completed Salted Legacy, the first adventure of Journeys through the Radiant Citadel.
We will start the second adventure soon for whoever wants to join. For those of you who had to drop out midway, you're warmly invited to join in again, if you feel up to it. Just let me know! Everyone will advance to 3rd Level, whether you completed the adventure or not. You can even take the opportunity to change characters, if you feel your old one wasn't working.
I'd also love any feedback you have on Salted Legacy, which I understand was based loosely on Thai culture and tradition.
My own thoughts on Salted Legacy: I feel that, like the first adventure (the carnival) in Witchlight, it was designed to be played in a single table session with players who might be new to the game, or strangers to each other - lots of minigames, lots of safety nets, and little combat. An icebreaker of sorts. How that translated as a two-month PBP, I'm not sure. The next adventure won't be quite as safe...
Also, since the Radiant Citadel adventures are completely independent of each other (as far as I've read!) and not a big messy overlapping campaign, I can completely and openly answer any remaining questions you might have about that first adventure. (Not that your characters can't go back at any time for free noodles!) Indeed, you are welcome to read the whole adventure directly - https://www.dndbeyond.com/sources/jttrc/salted-legacy - just don't read beyond the end of the chapter, pretty pretty please!
Some few days after their adventure finds Tuuli sitting morosely on the customer side of the bar at the Catford Cask. She is leaning heavily on the counter, swinging back and forth on the stool, a ball of yarn sitting in front of her, somewhat unraveled.
”I’ve tried everything,” she complains to the bartender on duty, Milla, a tiefling. “Picking up a new hobby. But knitting isn’t maybe one of my strengths,” she holds up what might be a scarf? But it’s just not, “I got a pet,” she says, waving a hand at the common room of the tavern, where there’s a yowl and a rush of white as a fluffy cat streaks out from under a table, chased by two others. As the cats race past her, Tuuli gestures and the white one lifts into the air and floats gently to her lap. “Hey Lucky,” she says as the cat is deposited in her lap, and immediately tangles itself in the scarf… maybe it’s a cat blanket?
”I threw myself in to my work,” Tuuli goes on, petting the cat. She looks up at the daily board above the bar. ‘Ruby’s Grapiñas’ it says, followed by ‘Limited time: Hot hot honey drop, management not responsible for customer pain.’
”And that was great, but we’re almost out of that one pepper, and Kasem and Vi picked up shop and left, so that’s done.”
Milla makes an understanding noise and moves to wipe down the bar further away. Tuuli just kind of waves as her head falls on to the bar. “Yeah, I know. I’m just so bored. Booooored.” Lucky looks up at her and mews, hopelessly tangled in the yarn. Tuuli snaps her fingers and the cat disappears, then pops back into existence at a second snap, this time on the bar and yarn-free.
”I even tried to make new friends, and the less we talk about that, the better.” Ruby, the elf hostess pats Tuuli sympathetically on the back as she passes. “Nobody deserves to be dumped three times in three days, babe.”
”I know!” Tuuli gives a little wail from where her cheek is mashed onto the bar. Lucky is batting at Tuuli’s copious hair, which is wafting in her personal breeze.
”I just wish there were some kind of, I don’t know, adventure, in the offing.” She sighs dramatically.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Walt went about his business after that night at the market. At first, he fell into his old routine. Whittling away at various pieces of found wood by day and making a fool out of himself at the Cat by night. After a week or so, that got a little old. Then Walt got to thinking, that night at the market was the most fun he’s had in quite some time.
Up until that night, his studies in the ways of the Druid had been, just that, mere studies. Previously, he hadn’t spent much time in wild shape. And he never really put it to good use. For the first time since putting his wife to rest and closing up his woodworking shape in Jigow, Walt actually felt a zest for life once again.
Walt delved deep into the nature journals and Star charts the he has kept since he was a young lad. He went out far away from town and focused in utilizing his wild shape. He transformed into giant lizards, wolves, elk, and his favorite the mule. Through his studies and guidance from the Wild Mother, his connections with nature and himself deepened.
He returned from his pilgrimage a new person, more in tune with himself and his surroundings, and eager for his next adventure.
Pronouns: he/him/his
Pud - lvl 7 Human Artificer - Alchemist (The Wild Beyond the Witchlight).
Quinn - lvl 4 Human Ranger - Hunter (Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk)
Harrow's routine had been completely disrupted in the days and weeks since that night at the Market. He went to work, then went home. He didn't remember the walks there or back. In the back of his mind, he saw the eyes of a giant prawn appearing out of dark water, felt his body break beneath his weight.
For the first week, he read during his free time. All of it. He knew his garden was suffering for it, but he didn't care. He didn't eat much, and stopped going to his usual haunts for dinner. He wouldn't say it out loud, but going to the Catford Cask was simply not an option, because if he saw Walt or Tuuli or the others that had been there with him that night, he was certain he'd be sick. He didn't want to see his mother, because she could read him too well. So he buried himself in books and busywork. It didn't last.
After a week, Harrow's mother Lena came. She seemed shorter and frailer as she stood outside his doorway, a covered dish of something held tight against her chest. She pushed past him into the apartment with her usual quickness, though, and something behind Harrow's breastbone uncoiled before he was aware it was coiled. She set the dish down and surveyed the room: meticulously clean, as always. Then she looked at him.
"Ever since you were little, when you were upset, you look to be by yourself. Your father, he was the same." A lump in Harrow's throat prevented him from saying anything in response. Lena smiled and stepped closer, put a bony hand on his arm. "You don't got to talk, Harrow. Just keep comin' to see me. I was worried; still am, but now I see you, and I know you have food and you're not hurt, and that's good enough for now."
Harrow swallowed the lump in his throat and croaked, "I think I almost died last week."
Lena nodded, though her eyes widened and her mouth went thin and bloodless. "But you're safe now," she said, wrapping him up in a hug. He returned the embrace gently, though he knew he was more fragile in this moment than she was.
"I am," he agreed.
Shortly after that, Harrow resumed his routine. He went to the Catford Cask and, despite the strange flashes of anxiety that were still ebbing away, he felt good doing it, though he didn't see Walt there. He visited his mother and cooked with her. He tended to his garden, which had largely forgiven him for his lapse in maintenance.
He added a new activity to his routine: magical self-defense. After consulting with some of his friends and peers, Harrow was able to find a group that met three times a week to discuss and practice techniques for keeping oneself safe. And with the help of one of the more experienced members of the group, he started a project: Awakening his spellbook. It took a week to finish the preparations for the ritual, which itself lasted a couple of hours, but the end result was very much worth the effort.
His spellbook was aware. Theirs was a young awareness, and largely limited to the arcana contained within the book, but they were an intensely curious being with a creative mind. They could work together on acts of magic, giving him more adaptability in his casting. He could transcribe new spells into his spellbook much more quickly with their aid. He named the book Lazuli; he'd had to make ink from lapis lazuli to awaken the consciousness inside, and they liked that name better than the others.
He began sleeping better at night.
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Chapter Two
Welcome to Godsbreath! Stepping through the intangible, semitranslucent reddish-yellow walls of the Concord Jewel you arrived in, you are greeted by sunshine and warmth. The welcome brilliance of the sun is something you miss after weeks at the sunless and weatherless Radiant Citadel.
It is morning. You stand in tall green grass along an empty but well-traveled road. Thick stands of tall trees cluster along the roadside. A modest but well-kept farmhouse is visible in the distance.
It was Harrow who invited you to Godsbreath. He works as an archivist for the tiny Godsbreath embassy at the Citadel, although his duties are evidently broader than just archiving. You also recall that he has a personal connection to this place.
But your memory is a little cloudy. It was quite a scene at the Catford Cask last night. Those garapiñas are evidently stronger than they first appear. You remember Harrow, in his enthusiasm, inviting you to join him to something called the "Awakening Festival" in the town of Promise in Godsbreath to hear some kind of song... but you forgot the details already. Harrow's enthusiasm last night was so great, in fact, that he even invited some yokel with a great axe from the next table and a random heavily-armored dwarf who's clearly new in town, to join your party.
Now you stand in the morning sun, smelling the warm breeze off some distant field, wondering how exactly you were talked into this. Harrow is here, but he's not as talkative as he was last night. But he knows which way to walk to get to Promise.
Tuuli stretches and spins once. "It is so good to be out in the fresh air. I miss the wind!" and on cue a gust blows through.
"Oh! Sorry, guys." She pulls a bundle of white fur out of her side slung satchel. "Lucky, look, it's a real place with dirt and everything," and she sets the cat on the ground.
(Description for the newcomers...)
Tuuli is so light on her feet she almost seems to float. Her skin is blue, her hair, too, though so light as to be almost white. That hair! There is a lot of it, and it floats in long and flowing tresses, moved by its own private breeze. She's very pretty, dressed in sort of flowy clothes, loose pants, short boots, and a small pack and pouch to go with the rapier at her side.
She brought her backpack on this trip, because she hazily remembers something about camping... or singing...
She carries herself with a certain amount of joyful poise, as it were, with a ready smile and a playful touch. And she has a fluffy white cat named Lucky.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Bendrak smiles at Tuuli. "Aye, some proper countryside!" He bends down and pets the cat carefully on its head.
Bendrak is a tall, burly man with a handsome but weathered face. His clothing and equipment is simple, but well-made, and he's been joking and telling stories since meeting with the group this morning. It's a notable change from last night, when he was visibly uncomfortable and mostly keeping to himself, tightly clutching a waterskin in one hand and eating with the other. He half expected the offer of work to be some kind of joke, but showed up anyway, happy that someone was in need of a strong arm.
Harrow stands with his companions, feeling faintly embarrassed and very lightly nauseated. The sunlight is too bright, and despite his best efforts, he can still taste a ghostly trace of alcohol on his breath. His spellbook is crooked in his right arm, resting against his hip, and he's got a small backpack with a waterskin fastened to the side. He takes a deep breath of the rich, sweet, warm air and musters his best smile before turning to the others.
"We're not too far from Promise; it's down this way." He gestures down the road, squinting against the light. "And... Thank you all for coming with me. It's been a very long time since I came here, and I'm glad for the company."
When the offer came from the drunken fellow in the bar to join an expedition, Baldar jumped at the chance. Having been in the Radiant Citadel but a couple weeks, it quickly became apparent to her that the Ethereal Plane was a big place. To accomplish her search would involve exploring some of the other lands. No matter how long it took, she was determined, even in death she would keep looking.
Standing now in the bright sun she looks none too worse for wear after last night due to her dwarven constitution. The light reflects a little off her bald head but aside from the heavy armor and intimidating battleaxe strapped to her back, she wore a friendly smile that reached all the way to her eyes.
"Lead the way, Harrow."
Walt, as per usual, fell behind pace from the group. The sheer natural beauty of this area has him bewitched. The sunlight warming the pine needles on the ground, mixed with what smells vaguely reminiscent of incense cedar, create a most intoxicating aroma. Walt is in his element. He's constantly stooping down picking up stones, inspecting them and keeping a few of the finer specimens along the way. He even found several small pieces of hardwood with intricate woodgrain.
"Ah, this here will do. Yes, I think this will work out nicely," Walt whispers to himself under his breath. He stashes one piece of wood in his pack and pulls out his whittling knife, immediately going to work. He's dallied about for too long. Walt picks up his pace, and rejoins his friends.
He stands beside Harrow, noticing he looks a little nauseated, perhaps a bit hungover from last night at the Cat. "Good morning, Harrow. Feeling alright?" Walt pauses a moment, before continuing on "Thank you for inviting me to the festival. This place is absolutely beautiful. Where I'm from, the land is mostly arid and deserted. Forests such as these are quite rare back home."
(ooc: If our path takes us near a stream or creek, Walt would like to search for some wild mint leaves. He'd like to make a tea to help settle Harrow's belly.)
Nature check: 9
Pronouns: he/him/his
Pud - lvl 7 Human Artificer - Alchemist (The Wild Beyond the Witchlight).
Quinn - lvl 4 Human Ranger - Hunter (Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk)
Walt looks towards Harrow and says "Those drinks last night were a wee bit stronger than I expected...I'm still feeling it myself! I'm going to pop into the woods and see if I can find some herbs to make a tea to sooth my belly."
With that, Walt runs up ahead and spends a few brief moments searching the damp green grasses to no avail. He heads back to the group empty handed.
"No luck with the herbs," Walt says to Harrow. He reaches around and digs into his pack, fishing out a stale old roll he brought along for the trek. He rips off a hunk and eats a piece while offering up the other portion to Harrow.
Pronouns: he/him/his
Pud - lvl 7 Human Artificer - Alchemist (The Wild Beyond the Witchlight).
Quinn - lvl 4 Human Ranger - Hunter (Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk)
Lucky makes an adorable mewling sound when Bendrak pets him, then trots after Tuuli.
The genasi smiles knowingly as Walt and Harrow dance around the topic of hangovers. “Say the word, and I’ll put you on the alcohol-free customer list we keep behind the bar. Still tasty, without the long term… effects.”
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Harrow takes the roll with a grin, looking at Tuuli and Walt. "I appreciate the thought, friends, but I'll be fine. I suspect my present state is due to trying that cocktail rather than sticking to my usual ale," he says, shrugging sheepishly. "It was very tasty, though."
As he begins to lead the way, he says, "I know I spoke at length about the Awakening Festival last night, but allow me to give you a brief refresher on its significance. The Awakening Song is the history of this land from its founding on, and it's sung over the course of several days. The Meet happens during the Festival as well: people from across the land come here to settle disputes, make agreements, and redress wrongs. There will be traders aplenty. The last time I came, it was beautiful."