The final chord fades into silence, and the figures on stage lower their instruments in unison. The audience erupts into applause, but it feels distant, almost unreal, as your focus sharpens on the baton in your hand. The glow of its magic pulses faintly, as if responding to your emotions.
Then, the figure of your mother steps forward, her form shimmering like a mirage. "You understand now, don’t you?" she says, her voice gentle but firm. "To lead this symphony, you must accept that every voice matters — your own, your friends’, even those that are no longer here. But the music isn’t complete yet."
She gestures toward the stage, where shadowy figures of your companions appear, each holding their own instrument. Their notes intertwine, but the melody falters, disjointed and strained. "They need a conductor," your mother says. "Not to control them, but to bring them together. Are you ready to step into that role?"
The shadowy figures look toward you expectantly, their forms shifting and flickering. The baton grows warmer in your hand, urging you to act.
The golden quill glows faintly in your hand as the diagrams shift, threads rearranging themselves with each stroke of ink. As you continue to write, the diagrams begin to shimmer with a faint golden light, the weave growing more intricate and detailed. Yet, as you move to the next blank space, the crimson figure steps closer, its presence heavy and oppressive.
"You are weaving a narrative, Iromae," it says, its voice low and resonant. "But every story has omissions, biases. Are you ready to confront what you may have forgotten — or what you may wish to forget?"
The diagrams suddenly shift, revealing new images — memories that feel both familiar and alien. You see flashes of your companions, moments you don’t fully recall, and threads that weave through the scenes in chaotic patterns. "Some truths are painful," the crimson figure continues. "Will you risk reshaping the weave to find them, or will you leave the gaps as they are?"
The golden quill hums softly in your hand, as if waiting for your decision.
Iromae hears the admonitions from the crimson figure. 'Yes, truths of failures or faults can be painful. But I'm a servant of Deneir and will not just leave gaps!' Not to mention she feels in the back of her head that how can everything be unraveled if not for filling in those gaps. She will just have to bear the brunt of those memories that she would rather forgotten. "I am ready to confront what is forgotten, even if I would rather forget," she states for the sake of the figure beside her.
The hum of the quill catches her attention. She looks at it for a moment then plunges ahead. She studies the patterns which are now before her, starting to unravel what they reveal. Ready to write it down as accurately as she can. She steels herself to feel the pain of the times she had failed, the errors she had made, and all the poor choices. She knew they must be in there - and she would just have to face them.
"I should have imagined so," Shenua replies to Pulse's warning that a final calibration is needed to harmonize the threads with the tapestry. She looks thoughtful, considering how to solve this, but her expression shifts to concern when the automaton states that she will need to add her own essence to achieve it. She had been so absorbed in building the tuning artifact that she had forgotten the fear she'd felt before entering the test ... but now it returned, sharp as a knife.
What mark would this leave? Would it hurt? Would it affect her badly? Her stomach churned slightly at these thoughts. Yet, as she glanced at the thread wrapped around her wrist and thought of the threads tied to her companions, a single question rose above her doubts: what other option was left other than finishing what she had started?
"I...", Shenua's words faltered. Feeling annoyed at herself for that weakness, she clenched her hands in a fist and closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. She took a slow, steadying breath, and when she opened eyes again, they locked with the automaton's. "Yes. Let's begin the calibration, Pulse."The artificer's fear hadn't vanished, but she had decided to push it aside.
Vorenus responds to the shadowy figure, saying "Weaving myself in is the only option. Otherwise, it all fails, it does require all of us, we have been reminded of this. I choose to finish the weave, to weave myself in, no matter the cost to me or my aspirations." Vorenus steps forward and finds the spot where his thread is missing and he inserts it there, hoping to complete the tapestry, a look of determination on his face.
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Diego, looks to the baton. A little confused and, for the first time in his relatively short stage life, scared. I can try, I'm no leader however. I've been leading myself since I left school and it has gotten me no where. He takes the baton, his palms immediately begin to sweat. He looks again to the music, I'm missing something. It's not complete. He studies it, instinctively moving the baton as if directing, trying to read each instruments parts, when they come in. but, but I've never been as good in my life like I was when I was with them, he looks to the shadowy figures of his friends, no, my family. Taking the baton goes to each, in the order that they met, Vorenus and Shenua first. He touches the baton to these two shadow figures, you two where the first to meet, please come to the front of the stage. After the are positioned in front of the music stand, he brings the wand up, ready, begin, as he uses the wand to help start them playing the music before him. He cast minor illusion of the wand continuing to direct as he moves to the shadow figure of Iromae and touches it to her. He takes her hand in his and lead her to stand next to the figure of Vorenus. He steps back behind the stand, bringing the wand back up catching the same movement as the illusion, then dismissing it. When you're ready my dear, he points the baton toward Iromae as her instrument blends with the other two. Then he steps to the crimson violin player, tapping her with the wand, I'm not sure when exactly you joined but the music seems to call for you now, he extends his hand, if you would please? he leads the figure to stand next to Iromae and returns to the music stand, reading through the melody. He pulls his lute around, touching the baton to his chest, and now our last performer, he cast mage hand to take the baton to direct as he joins his family and begins to play.
The harmonies fill the amphitheater, the five instruments playing together as one. His stomach knots as he realizes the finished part is about over, we finish this together ok? he directs the mage hand to him, he takes the baton in his strumming hand and directs the mage hand to strum the strings of his lute, while his other hand chords the frets. together, he stands before them, baton in hand reading the music, it's flow, how it moves from note to note, chord to chord, letting the music tell him what to play next within the beautiful structure of song. He cast prestidigitation to create the missing lines on the sheet as together the five of them finish the piece. The knot in his stomach now gone as the music flows through him, much as he imagined the arcane power to weave in and out of the magic user, the notes coming to him the way a design plan comes to an artificer, and radiating out from him the way the devine radiates from the devote.
The last of the notes are struck, he looks down, the song complete. He moves to stand with his loved ones, taking the hand of the crimson figure, who takes Iromae's who then takes Vorenus's as he takes Shenua's, together, he says, as they take a bow.
The golden quill vibrates with a deep resonance as you write, the hum now suffused with an almost mournful tone. The patterns before you reveal moments you'd rather have left buried — your missteps, the words you regret, the silence when you should have spoken. Pain blooms in sharp bursts, not only in memory but as a visceral echo that ripples through your chest.
The diagrams shift and weave, filling the voids left untended. You see threads faltering where you hesitated and paths that diverged due to fear or pride. Yet, as you write, you notice something extraordinary: golden light pours from the spaces you fill, illuminating the weave not as a testament to failure but as evidence of perseverance. Each recorded flaw strengthens the pattern, stitching together what was once frayed.
The crimson figure’s voice softens as it speaks. “You have faced the truth, as painful as it is, and in doing so, you have reinforced the tapestry. Strength does not lie in perfection but in the honesty of what is.”
As the last line is drawn, the golden quill pulses warmly in your hand. The light from the diagrams spills into the air, reforming into a spectral vision of the weave itself — shimmering threads in gold, silver, turquoise, and amber, now interwoven with strands of crimson.
“Take what you have learned,” the figure intones. “The quill is now yours — a tool to record truth and shape what comes next.”
The quill hums gently, its power now tethered to you.
As Pulse steps back, the automatons’ formation tightens, their low chant rising into a harmonic crescendo. The tuning fork in your hand trembles violently, glowing so brightly that you almost cannot bear to look at it. Then, with a surge of energy, turquoise arcs leap from the fork and collide with your thread.
A jolt runs through your body, sharp and electric, and for a moment, you feel weightless — untethered from yourself, yet profoundly connected to the weave around you. Threads of silver, gold, and amber flash in your mind’s eye, pulsing like veins of light. They sing in harmony with your tuning fork, but you sense the price you’re paying: this resonance is not just of your making. It carries a trace of you now, a fragment of your essence that ripples outward into the threads of others.
Pulse’s crystal dims slightly as the chant fades. The automaton’s metallic voice reverberates softly. “The calibration is complete. The threads will strengthen your companions, as you intended. And yet …”
It hesitates, and you realize you feel different. There’s a faint hum beneath your skin, a note you can almost hear. “You have marked the weave, and it has marked you in return,” Pulse concludes. “The tuning fork is now attuned to the tapestry and to you. Its resonance will guide you, but it will never let you forget this bond.”
The turquoise glow settles into the fork, its power palpable as it nestles in your hand.
As you press your silver thread into the tapestry, the shadowy figure falls silent. A sound like wind rushing through a canyon fills the air, and for a moment, you feel yourself unraveling — your hopes, fears, and aspirations laid bare. The thread glows brightly, embedding itself within the weave, and with a deep, resonant snap, the tapestry begins to shift and repair itself.
The shadowy figure steps closer, its indigo mist receding slightly to reveal an ancient, weathered face — not cruel, as you might have thought, but sorrowful. “You have chosen unity over vanity, and for that, the weave endures. The brilliance of a single thread cannot rival the strength of the whole.”
The tapestry flares with light, and in its center, where your thread now lies, a silver needle materializes, floating gently down into your outstretched hand. It is simple yet sturdy, humming with the same energy you felt when you first touched the weave.
“Take this,” the figure intones. “The Needle of Unity, forged from your choice. It binds what is frayed and repairs what is broken — but only when wielded by one who understands the cost.”
The shadow figure vanishes, leaving you standing alone before the now-restored tapestry. The needle gleams faintly, its weight both literal and symbolic.
The music rises, flows, and resolves with a clarity you have never experienced before — a harmony of instruments and voices that transcends mere sound. It is as though the amphitheater itself holds its breath to listen, its stillness a testament to the power of the performance you have led.
As the final notes fade, the shadowy figures of your friends relax. The crimson figure smiles faintly, its form softening, the violin in its hand glowing with an amber light.
“You have found the melody,” it says quietly, its voice carrying a warmth that resonates through the empty hall. “Music, like magic, requires harmony. It demands that each voice be heard and valued. You are not a leader because you command, Diego. You are a leader because you listen.”
The baton in your hand vibrates gently, and as the crimson figure steps back, the wand’s glow intensifies. “The Conductor’s Baton is now yours — a symbol of the harmony you can bring to those around you. With it, you can guide disparate voices into unity, just as you have done here.”
The amphitheater grows brighter, the shadows fading as the figures of your friends linger, watching you with pride. The baton feels light in your hand, a perfect balance of power and purpose.
As the light radiates, the shadowy figures before you begin to solidify. The first two — Vorenus and Shenua — become unmistakably real, stepping forward from the haze. Their presence fills you with a mix of relief and certainty: these aren’t just fragments of memory or illusion. They’re here, in the flesh.
Then, the third shadow materializes into Iromae, her quill shimmering faintly in her hand. She looks at you with a knowing gaze, as if drawn here not by the song but by the same force that called the others.
Finally, the fourth figure begins to shift. The crimson violin glows brighter as the figure steps forward, taking on a human shape. You feel a pang of familiarity — a glimpse of something you’d forgotten. A half-smile that seems at once hesitant and warm. The tilt of their head, the way they hold the violin close, as if it’s both shield and treasure.
And then the memories flicker. Was this … Kalis? Or someone else? It’s frustratingly out of reach, like trying to recall the details of a dream upon waking. But it’s enough to spark recognition in all of you.
The crimson figure’s voice echoes softly. “Harmony is found in unity, and unity in trust. The final note is still unfinished, waiting for the hand that dares to guide it.” The figure steps back, standing alongside your friends. The violin hums, waiting for the song to continue.
The amphitheater brightens, the light converging on the music stand and baton before you. The final lines of the score remain blank. The weight of their completion rests not on one person, but on all of you.
The amphitheater seems to come alive as the four of you stand together. The walls ripple like water, each movement revealing faint images within the stone: your shared journeys, battles, triumphs, and moments of doubt. The images swirl and blur, converging toward the music stand, where the blank lines of the score pulse gently.
The crimson figure speaks again, its voice soft but resonant. “The weave is incomplete. To finish it, you must act together. Music is more than sound — it is intention, memory, and truth. Each of you carries a thread that the score needs.”
As it speaks, the shadows of instruments shimmer around each of you:
A lyre appears near Iromae, its strings vibrating with golden light. A set of delicate chimes hovers near Shenua, each note echoing like the tinkling of glass. A deep, resonant drum materializes near Vorenus, its surface carved with intricate patterns. Diego’s lute hums in his hands, a perfect match for the baton he wields.
The crimson violinist steps forward, the instrument glowing brighter as it plays a single note. “But beware: dissonance can unravel even the strongest harmony. Trust your instincts, your bond, and each other.”
The score shimmers, revealing a series of symbols and patterns instead of traditional notes.
So this is it, Shenua thinks, placing a hand over her heart and feeling the faint hum beneath her skin. She isn't sure what to make of it. It feels strange, yet not unpleasant—warm, soft, and oddly comforting, as though a missing piece has fallen into place. Still, the tiefling lifts her gaze questioningly toward Pulse. But before she ask anything, the automaton and the workshop around her begin to blur, and she feels a force pulling her away.
In that fleeting moment, Shenua grasps Pulse's metallic hand, holding it tight. It isn't the farewell she would have wanted, but it’s something—one last connection with the remarkable automaton. Will she ever find her way back to this place?
Once on the stage, Shenua quickly reaches out to her friends. "Are you all right? I take it our tests went well, considering we're all still in one piece?"Her gaze lingers on each of them, searching their faces to confirm they are truly here and unharmed.
But then, she notices the fifth figure, clutching their violin as if it was s shield protecting them. Shenua gasps, a wave of recognition washing over her. Memories stir in her mind, fragments of familiarity piecing together, though not entirely. "Kalis?" she asks hesitantly. "How...? Oh, gods, this is all sostrange." Extending a hand toward the violinist, she adds, "Come here, with us," she says softly, pulling them closer to the group if they accept her invitation.
Shenua’s gaze lingers on Kalis for a moment longer before she forces herself to refocus. They still need to finish the test. Turning to the group, she asks, "What do we do now? It’s clear we need to play our instruments, but we can’t rush it, we need to be synchronized. And what do we make of this score?" Shenua studies the symbols and patterns before them. Does the group know how to interpret the score after watching it closely?
Vorenus steps forward and grips Shenua with a smile, saying "It's you!" Turning to everyone, he says "All of us, we did it!" Then he turns and regards the one he couldn't quite remember, the one that was an itching spot on his brain that he could not scratch. "Kalis? How... how did I not remember you? What happened to us?" He sees the drum sitting in front of him, then looks up and greets Diego and Ironmae. He looks at the notes, and hears the instruction. "Dissonence can undo harmony...." He looks at the notes again and the drum, saying - - "Well, what we need is a conductor! That's you my man!" He looks and nods to Diego. "What was that you used to say? The drummer sets the beat. The drummer gets it all started.... let me start, you lead me. I can't read those notes, but I sure can do what you tell me!"
Vorenus holds the needle gripped in his palm, clenching the other fist as well, and he starts pounding on the drum, looking to Diego for direction and timing. "Remember when you had that wild hair up your ass, when you joined that drum circle? I thought you were going to start juggling fire next you crazy man! Lead us! Direct us.. this is what you do!" He watches for Diego's direction, his arm motions, and he tries to feel his way into the beat to get things started...
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Diego stands in the silence unsure if worked or not, then Vorenus and Shenua shimmer into being. He almost drops his lute as he runs to them, taking them in his arms, did it work? Oh my it's good to see you both! I was so worried that...his voice trails off as Iromae shimmers into being, he quickly wraps her in his arms picking her up and spinning her round and round, thank the gods! I've got so much on my hear to tell you, so much his words cut off as another figure shimmers into being. He looks at her, the rest of the group can almost feel the emotion playing over his face. Finally he mouths a single word, a name that until this very moment had been lost to him for year, k..kal...KALIS! he moves to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, touching to reassure himself that she really is here. is it really you?
Iromae smiles as she sees her friends. And she laughs a bit nervously as he picks her up and spins her around. "Uh, good to see you too Diego." She's a but perplexed by his actions. 'Is that the second time today he's done that?' She feels relieved, although it is clear there is still work to be done to resolve this mystery fully. 'Kalis' she says in her mind, reveling at how familiar the name sounds now.
The shadow of the lyre appears near her, and all she can think is, 'I can't play that! I'm no musician.' But then she listens to the words. "Guys. Intention, memory, and truth. That is the part we must play. Yes, Diego, you should direct us to work as whole. I... think the music is more metaphor here for what we need to do. And yes, Kalis, join us!" The shimmering score, with its symbols and patterns draws her attention most now though. 'Are these similar to what I had to write just before? Perhaps I can ready them. Decipher them.' That's what she tries to do, hoping that the trial she'd previously gone through might give fruit to whatever their task is here and now. "Perhaps I can decipher the symbols," she tells the others, hoping that she might be able.
The reunion is warm and vibrant, but the amphitheater does not allow for idle relief. As each of you settle into your places, the shimmering score begins to pulse, the patterns glowing faintly, almost beckoning you closer. The crimson violinist, who now stands among you with an air of tentative familiarity, looks at each of you with a small, wistful smile. They do not speak further, but the glow of their violin matches the rhythm of the score’s light, as if it is alive and responding.
The crimson figure nods slightly at Shenua's invitation to join, stepping into the group’s circle. When they meet Diego’s gaze, they place a gentle hand over his as if to steady him. Their touch feels both familiar and otherworldly, as though they carry the weight of countless shared memories, only some of which are yours to recall.
At Iromae's suggestion, the score flickers again, and faint outlines of musical notes appear within the abstract symbols. They are not complete but begin to hint at an order, a rhythm. Each instrument floating before you glows faintly, its light matching a unique part of the score. It becomes clear that each of you has a role to play — not just in creating music, but in harmonizing your intentions.
The crimson figure’s voice emerges again, soft and reflective. “Each thread has its place in the weave. Diego will guide the rhythm. Iromae, your understanding will give it form. Shenua, your craft will bring balance. Vorenus, your conviction will ground it. And I …” They trail off, looking at the violin in their hands. “I will carry what you cannot see.”
What the group observes:
Diego: The baton in your hand feels warm, alive with possibility. As you hold it, you can sense the rhythm of each instrument — not as sound, but as emotion. The tension in your hand relaxes slightly as you realize your role is to unify, not to perfect.
Iromae: The symbols and patterns align in your mind, forming a language of memory and emotion. You realize the score is more than music — it’s a reflection of your shared journey, with each measure representing a choice, a moment of connection.
Shenua: The chimes before you emit faint tones even before you touch them, responding to your presence. As you consider them, you feel they resonate with harmony. Your task is to find the balance between the others' contributions.
Vorenus: The drum vibrates faintly as you place your hands on it. Its deep, resonant tones feel like the heartbeat of the group, a steady pulse that anchors everything else.
The score’s glowing lines begin to shift, the blank spaces filling in as if responding to your collective presence. But gaps remain, pulsing like silent questions. The crimson figure steps back slightly, lifting their violin, waiting for you to make the first move.
The amphitheater seems to lean in, waiting for the music to begin. As the group takes their first steps, you all feel the weight of intention: every choice you make will shape the harmony — or unleash dissonance. The score glows more brightly, urging you onward.
Shenua studies the score again, her demonic eyes following Iromae’s finger as the cleric points out the musical notes and the sections corresponding to each of them. Though still a bit uncertain about her own part, she trusts that clarity will come once they all begin to play.
Knowing the chimes are meant to bring balance to the other's contributions, the tiefling decides to familiarize herself with the instrument before playing. Stepping closer to it, she pauses, her arms crossed as her eyes trace the length of each metallic tube. After a moment, she uncrosses her arms, carefully raising the tuning fork and bringing it close to each tube, feeling—almost more than hearing—the sound and vibration they produce. With her eyes closed and her tail flicking gently behind her, she lets the tones wash over her, while she mentally maps their resonance to Kalis, Iromae, Vorenus, and Diego. She seeks to understand how each note might harmonize with the emotions and intentions the others bring to their instruments.
After a few moments, Shenua feels ready. She has chosen a combination of tubes that, when struck at the proper angle with the tuning fork, will complement and enhance the violin, drums, and lyre. Meeting Diego’s gaze, she locks eyes with him, a silent signal of her readiness to begin. Now, she waits for him to guide them all, to weave their contributions into a single, unified harmony.
Diego looks to his friends, everyone ready? Remember it's not how well you play it's more about bringing our intentions together, working together with our natural gifts to mend what has been broken, the weave. The heart knows no wrong notes, so let it lead and guide you. I love you all. Here we go. he raises the baton, reading the "music" set before him. Starting with Vorenus and Shenua, reading the symbols as they perform. Vorenus providing the steady pulse by which our work is done, while Shenua brings a certain balance and harmony to the beat. Diego points the baton to Iromae, bringing her quill across the lyre, highlighting different points in the weave. The he taps the baton in Kalis's direction as she brings the violin up and joins, filling in the blank spaces of the weave as Iromae stitches them together. Finally he brings his lute around, he strums the baton across the strings as the completed threads glow and radiant with the rhythm.
Iromae takes a moment to study the lyre before her, just as Shenua had studied her chimes. 'Ok, once we have the information figured out, Diego will lead us, I just have to follow him,' she thinks to herself, trying to keep calm. She's no performer, and she just tries to tell herself that it's her own abilities at work here and it will work out if they're together. She lifts her eyes up, trying to catch the gaze, even if briefly, of each of the others - Shenua, Kalis, Vorenus. Then she firmly fixes her eyes on Diego, watching him closely for direction, after giving him a little nod that she's ready.
As Diego indicates, she uses the glowing quill to strike the lyre. She trusts him to let her know when to act and her translation of the symbols of the score to let her know which strings to pluck.
A big grin is fixed on the face of Vorenus, what he lacks in skill he makes up for in energy and exuberance as he starts pounding on the drum, looking to Diego to set the beat. He adds the steady beats of the drum to the song, going by feel and gut instinct, at times closing his eyes and feeling the rhythm. “That’s it my friends, Shaka putch a cha, Shaka putch a cha, bom bom bom bom bom bom… bom bom bom bom bom bom…”. For a moment Vorenus is transported back in time, interacting with his friends like long ago, remembering many a Diego-led benders in the past, going with the flow, like he was back in school all over again… “Yeah!”
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
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Diego’s Test
The final chord fades into silence, and the figures on stage lower their instruments in unison. The audience erupts into applause, but it feels distant, almost unreal, as your focus sharpens on the baton in your hand. The glow of its magic pulses faintly, as if responding to your emotions.
Then, the figure of your mother steps forward, her form shimmering like a mirage. "You understand now, don’t you?" she says, her voice gentle but firm. "To lead this symphony, you must accept that every voice matters — your own, your friends’, even those that are no longer here. But the music isn’t complete yet."
She gestures toward the stage, where shadowy figures of your companions appear, each holding their own instrument. Their notes intertwine, but the melody falters, disjointed and strained. "They need a conductor," your mother says. "Not to control them, but to bring them together. Are you ready to step into that role?"
The shadowy figures look toward you expectantly, their forms shifting and flickering. The baton grows warmer in your hand, urging you to act.
Iromae’s Test
The golden quill glows faintly in your hand as the diagrams shift, threads rearranging themselves with each stroke of ink. As you continue to write, the diagrams begin to shimmer with a faint golden light, the weave growing more intricate and detailed. Yet, as you move to the next blank space, the crimson figure steps closer, its presence heavy and oppressive.
"You are weaving a narrative, Iromae," it says, its voice low and resonant. "But every story has omissions, biases. Are you ready to confront what you may have forgotten — or what you may wish to forget?"
The diagrams suddenly shift, revealing new images — memories that feel both familiar and alien. You see flashes of your companions, moments you don’t fully recall, and threads that weave through the scenes in chaotic patterns. "Some truths are painful," the crimson figure continues. "Will you risk reshaping the weave to find them, or will you leave the gaps as they are?"
The golden quill hums softly in your hand, as if waiting for your decision.
Iromae hears the admonitions from the crimson figure. 'Yes, truths of failures or faults can be painful. But I'm a servant of Deneir and will not just leave gaps!' Not to mention she feels in the back of her head that how can everything be unraveled if not for filling in those gaps. She will just have to bear the brunt of those memories that she would rather forgotten. "I am ready to confront what is forgotten, even if I would rather forget," she states for the sake of the figure beside her.
The hum of the quill catches her attention. She looks at it for a moment then plunges ahead. She studies the patterns which are now before her, starting to unravel what they reveal. Ready to write it down as accurately as she can. She steels herself to feel the pain of the times she had failed, the errors she had made, and all the poor choices. She knew they must be in there - and she would just have to face them.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
What mark would this leave? Would it hurt? Would it affect her badly? Her stomach churned slightly at these thoughts. Yet, as she glanced at the thread wrapped around her wrist and thought of the threads tied to her companions, a single question rose above her doubts: what other option was left other than finishing what she had started?
"I...", Shenua's words faltered. Feeling annoyed at herself for that weakness, she clenched her hands in a fist and closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. She took a slow, steadying breath, and when she opened eyes again, they locked with the automaton's. "Yes. Let's begin the calibration, Pulse." The artificer's fear hadn't vanished, but she had decided to push it aside.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Vorenus responds to the shadowy figure, saying "Weaving myself in is the only option. Otherwise, it all fails, it does require all of us, we have been reminded of this. I choose to finish the weave, to weave myself in, no matter the cost to me or my aspirations." Vorenus steps forward and finds the spot where his thread is missing and he inserts it there, hoping to complete the tapestry, a look of determination on his face.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Diego, looks to the baton. A little confused and, for the first time in his relatively short stage life, scared. I can try, I'm no leader however. I've been leading myself since I left school and it has gotten me no where. He takes the baton, his palms immediately begin to sweat. He looks again to the music, I'm missing something. It's not complete. He studies it, instinctively moving the baton as if directing, trying to read each instruments parts, when they come in. but, but I've never been as good in my life like I was when I was with them, he looks to the shadowy figures of his friends, no, my family. Taking the baton goes to each, in the order that they met, Vorenus and Shenua first. He touches the baton to these two shadow figures, you two where the first to meet, please come to the front of the stage. After the are positioned in front of the music stand, he brings the wand up, ready, begin, as he uses the wand to help start them playing the music before him. He cast minor illusion of the wand continuing to direct as he moves to the shadow figure of Iromae and touches it to her. He takes her hand in his and lead her to stand next to the figure of Vorenus. He steps back behind the stand, bringing the wand back up catching the same movement as the illusion, then dismissing it. When you're ready my dear, he points the baton toward Iromae as her instrument blends with the other two. Then he steps to the crimson violin player, tapping her with the wand, I'm not sure when exactly you joined but the music seems to call for you now, he extends his hand, if you would please? he leads the figure to stand next to Iromae and returns to the music stand, reading through the melody. He pulls his lute around, touching the baton to his chest, and now our last performer, he cast mage hand to take the baton to direct as he joins his family and begins to play.
The harmonies fill the amphitheater, the five instruments playing together as one. His stomach knots as he realizes the finished part is about over, we finish this together ok? he directs the mage hand to him, he takes the baton in his strumming hand and directs the mage hand to strum the strings of his lute, while his other hand chords the frets. together, he stands before them, baton in hand reading the music, it's flow, how it moves from note to note, chord to chord, letting the music tell him what to play next within the beautiful structure of song. He cast prestidigitation to create the missing lines on the sheet as together the five of them finish the piece. The knot in his stomach now gone as the music flows through him, much as he imagined the arcane power to weave in and out of the magic user, the notes coming to him the way a design plan comes to an artificer, and radiating out from him the way the devine radiates from the devote.
The last of the notes are struck, he looks down, the song complete. He moves to stand with his loved ones, taking the hand of the crimson figure, who takes Iromae's who then takes Vorenus's as he takes Shenua's, together, he says, as they take a bow.
Iromae’s Test
The golden quill vibrates with a deep resonance as you write, the hum now suffused with an almost mournful tone. The patterns before you reveal moments you'd rather have left buried — your missteps, the words you regret, the silence when you should have spoken. Pain blooms in sharp bursts, not only in memory but as a visceral echo that ripples through your chest.
The diagrams shift and weave, filling the voids left untended. You see threads faltering where you hesitated and paths that diverged due to fear or pride. Yet, as you write, you notice something extraordinary: golden light pours from the spaces you fill, illuminating the weave not as a testament to failure but as evidence of perseverance. Each recorded flaw strengthens the pattern, stitching together what was once frayed.
The crimson figure’s voice softens as it speaks. “You have faced the truth, as painful as it is, and in doing so, you have reinforced the tapestry. Strength does not lie in perfection but in the honesty of what is.”
As the last line is drawn, the golden quill pulses warmly in your hand. The light from the diagrams spills into the air, reforming into a spectral vision of the weave itself — shimmering threads in gold, silver, turquoise, and amber, now interwoven with strands of crimson.
“Take what you have learned,” the figure intones. “The quill is now yours — a tool to record truth and shape what comes next.”
The quill hums gently, its power now tethered to you.
Shenua’s Test
As Pulse steps back, the automatons’ formation tightens, their low chant rising into a harmonic crescendo. The tuning fork in your hand trembles violently, glowing so brightly that you almost cannot bear to look at it. Then, with a surge of energy, turquoise arcs leap from the fork and collide with your thread.
A jolt runs through your body, sharp and electric, and for a moment, you feel weightless — untethered from yourself, yet profoundly connected to the weave around you. Threads of silver, gold, and amber flash in your mind’s eye, pulsing like veins of light. They sing in harmony with your tuning fork, but you sense the price you’re paying: this resonance is not just of your making. It carries a trace of you now, a fragment of your essence that ripples outward into the threads of others.
Pulse’s crystal dims slightly as the chant fades. The automaton’s metallic voice reverberates softly. “The calibration is complete. The threads will strengthen your companions, as you intended. And yet …”
It hesitates, and you realize you feel different. There’s a faint hum beneath your skin, a note you can almost hear. “You have marked the weave, and it has marked you in return,” Pulse concludes. “The tuning fork is now attuned to the tapestry and to you. Its resonance will guide you, but it will never let you forget this bond.”
The turquoise glow settles into the fork, its power palpable as it nestles in your hand.
Vorenus’s Test
As you press your silver thread into the tapestry, the shadowy figure falls silent. A sound like wind rushing through a canyon fills the air, and for a moment, you feel yourself unraveling — your hopes, fears, and aspirations laid bare. The thread glows brightly, embedding itself within the weave, and with a deep, resonant snap, the tapestry begins to shift and repair itself.
The shadowy figure steps closer, its indigo mist receding slightly to reveal an ancient, weathered face — not cruel, as you might have thought, but sorrowful. “You have chosen unity over vanity, and for that, the weave endures. The brilliance of a single thread cannot rival the strength of the whole.”
The tapestry flares with light, and in its center, where your thread now lies, a silver needle materializes, floating gently down into your outstretched hand. It is simple yet sturdy, humming with the same energy you felt when you first touched the weave.
“Take this,” the figure intones. “The Needle of Unity, forged from your choice. It binds what is frayed and repairs what is broken — but only when wielded by one who understands the cost.”
The shadow figure vanishes, leaving you standing alone before the now-restored tapestry. The needle gleams faintly, its weight both literal and symbolic.
Diego’s Test
The music rises, flows, and resolves with a clarity you have never experienced before — a harmony of instruments and voices that transcends mere sound. It is as though the amphitheater itself holds its breath to listen, its stillness a testament to the power of the performance you have led.
As the final notes fade, the shadowy figures of your friends relax. The crimson figure smiles faintly, its form softening, the violin in its hand glowing with an amber light.
“You have found the melody,” it says quietly, its voice carrying a warmth that resonates through the empty hall. “Music, like magic, requires harmony. It demands that each voice be heard and valued. You are not a leader because you command, Diego. You are a leader because you listen.”
The baton in your hand vibrates gently, and as the crimson figure steps back, the wand’s glow intensifies. “The Conductor’s Baton is now yours — a symbol of the harmony you can bring to those around you. With it, you can guide disparate voices into unity, just as you have done here.”
The amphitheater grows brighter, the shadows fading as the figures of your friends linger, watching you with pride. The baton feels light in your hand, a perfect balance of power and purpose.
As the light radiates, the shadowy figures before you begin to solidify. The first two — Vorenus and Shenua — become unmistakably real, stepping forward from the haze. Their presence fills you with a mix of relief and certainty: these aren’t just fragments of memory or illusion. They’re here, in the flesh.
Then, the third shadow materializes into Iromae, her quill shimmering faintly in her hand. She looks at you with a knowing gaze, as if drawn here not by the song but by the same force that called the others.
Finally, the fourth figure begins to shift. The crimson violin glows brighter as the figure steps forward, taking on a human shape. You feel a pang of familiarity — a glimpse of something you’d forgotten. A half-smile that seems at once hesitant and warm. The tilt of their head, the way they hold the violin close, as if it’s both shield and treasure.
And then the memories flicker. Was this … Kalis? Or someone else? It’s frustratingly out of reach, like trying to recall the details of a dream upon waking. But it’s enough to spark recognition in all of you.
The crimson figure’s voice echoes softly. “Harmony is found in unity, and unity in trust. The final note is still unfinished, waiting for the hand that dares to guide it.” The figure steps back, standing alongside your friends. The violin hums, waiting for the song to continue.
The amphitheater brightens, the light converging on the music stand and baton before you. The final lines of the score remain blank. The weight of their completion rests not on one person, but on all of you.
The test continues
The amphitheater seems to come alive as the four of you stand together. The walls ripple like water, each movement revealing faint images within the stone: your shared journeys, battles, triumphs, and moments of doubt. The images swirl and blur, converging toward the music stand, where the blank lines of the score pulse gently.
The crimson figure speaks again, its voice soft but resonant. “The weave is incomplete. To finish it, you must act together. Music is more than sound — it is intention, memory, and truth. Each of you carries a thread that the score needs.”
As it speaks, the shadows of instruments shimmer around each of you:
A lyre appears near Iromae, its strings vibrating with golden light. A set of delicate chimes hovers near Shenua, each note echoing like the tinkling of glass. A deep, resonant drum materializes near Vorenus, its surface carved with intricate patterns. Diego’s lute hums in his hands, a perfect match for the baton he wields.
The crimson violinist steps forward, the instrument glowing brighter as it plays a single note. “But beware: dissonance can unravel even the strongest harmony. Trust your instincts, your bond, and each other.”
The score shimmers, revealing a series of symbols and patterns instead of traditional notes.
So this is it, Shenua thinks, placing a hand over her heart and feeling the faint hum beneath her skin. She isn't sure what to make of it. It feels strange, yet not unpleasant—warm, soft, and oddly comforting, as though a missing piece has fallen into place. Still, the tiefling lifts her gaze questioningly toward Pulse. But before she ask anything, the automaton and the workshop around her begin to blur, and she feels a force pulling her away.
In that fleeting moment, Shenua grasps Pulse's metallic hand, holding it tight. It isn't the farewell she would have wanted, but it’s something—one last connection with the remarkable automaton. Will she ever find her way back to this place?
Once on the stage, Shenua quickly reaches out to her friends. "Are you all right? I take it our tests went well, considering we're all still in one piece?" Her gaze lingers on each of them, searching their faces to confirm they are truly here and unharmed.
But then, she notices the fifth figure, clutching their violin as if it was s shield protecting them. Shenua gasps, a wave of recognition washing over her. Memories stir in her mind, fragments of familiarity piecing together, though not entirely. "Kalis?" she asks hesitantly. "How...? Oh, gods, this is all so strange." Extending a hand toward the violinist, she adds, "Come here, with us," she says softly, pulling them closer to the group if they accept her invitation.
Shenua’s gaze lingers on Kalis for a moment longer before she forces herself to refocus. They still need to finish the test. Turning to the group, she asks, "What do we do now? It’s clear we need to play our instruments, but we can’t rush it, we need to be synchronized. And what do we make of this score?" Shenua studies the symbols and patterns before them. Does the group know how to interpret the score after watching it closely?
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Vorenus steps forward and grips Shenua with a smile, saying "It's you!" Turning to everyone, he says "All of us, we did it!" Then he turns and regards the one he couldn't quite remember, the one that was an itching spot on his brain that he could not scratch. "Kalis? How... how did I not remember you? What happened to us?" He sees the drum sitting in front of him, then looks up and greets Diego and Ironmae. He looks at the notes, and hears the instruction. "Dissonence can undo harmony...." He looks at the notes again and the drum, saying - - "Well, what we need is a conductor! That's you my man!" He looks and nods to Diego. "What was that you used to say? The drummer sets the beat. The drummer gets it all started.... let me start, you lead me. I can't read those notes, but I sure can do what you tell me!"
Vorenus holds the needle gripped in his palm, clenching the other fist as well, and he starts pounding on the drum, looking to Diego for direction and timing. "Remember when you had that wild hair up your ass, when you joined that drum circle? I thought you were going to start juggling fire next you crazy man! Lead us! Direct us.. this is what you do!" He watches for Diego's direction, his arm motions, and he tries to feel his way into the beat to get things started...
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Diego stands in the silence unsure if worked or not, then Vorenus and Shenua shimmer into being. He almost drops his lute as he runs to them, taking them in his arms, did it work? Oh my it's good to see you both! I was so worried that...his voice trails off as Iromae shimmers into being, he quickly wraps her in his arms picking her up and spinning her round and round, thank the gods! I've got so much on my hear to tell you, so much his words cut off as another figure shimmers into being. He looks at her, the rest of the group can almost feel the emotion playing over his face. Finally he mouths a single word, a name that until this very moment had been lost to him for year, k..kal...KALIS! he moves to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, touching to reassure himself that she really is here. is it really you?
Iromae smiles as she sees her friends. And she laughs a bit nervously as he picks her up and spins her around. "Uh, good to see you too Diego." She's a but perplexed by his actions. 'Is that the second time today he's done that?' She feels relieved, although it is clear there is still work to be done to resolve this mystery fully. 'Kalis' she says in her mind, reveling at how familiar the name sounds now.
The shadow of the lyre appears near her, and all she can think is, 'I can't play that! I'm no musician.' But then she listens to the words. "Guys. Intention, memory, and truth. That is the part we must play. Yes, Diego, you should direct us to work as whole. I... think the music is more metaphor here for what we need to do. And yes, Kalis, join us!" The shimmering score, with its symbols and patterns draws her attention most now though. 'Are these similar to what I had to write just before? Perhaps I can ready them. Decipher them.' That's what she tries to do, hoping that the trial she'd previously gone through might give fruit to whatever their task is here and now. "Perhaps I can decipher the symbols," she tells the others, hoping that she might be able.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
The reunion is warm and vibrant, but the amphitheater does not allow for idle relief. As each of you settle into your places, the shimmering score begins to pulse, the patterns glowing faintly, almost beckoning you closer. The crimson violinist, who now stands among you with an air of tentative familiarity, looks at each of you with a small, wistful smile. They do not speak further, but the glow of their violin matches the rhythm of the score’s light, as if it is alive and responding.
The crimson figure nods slightly at Shenua's invitation to join, stepping into the group’s circle. When they meet Diego’s gaze, they place a gentle hand over his as if to steady him. Their touch feels both familiar and otherworldly, as though they carry the weight of countless shared memories, only some of which are yours to recall.
At Iromae's suggestion, the score flickers again, and faint outlines of musical notes appear within the abstract symbols. They are not complete but begin to hint at an order, a rhythm. Each instrument floating before you glows faintly, its light matching a unique part of the score. It becomes clear that each of you has a role to play — not just in creating music, but in harmonizing your intentions.
The crimson figure’s voice emerges again, soft and reflective. “Each thread has its place in the weave. Diego will guide the rhythm. Iromae, your understanding will give it form. Shenua, your craft will bring balance. Vorenus, your conviction will ground it. And I …” They trail off, looking at the violin in their hands. “I will carry what you cannot see.”
What the group observes:
The score’s glowing lines begin to shift, the blank spaces filling in as if responding to your collective presence. But gaps remain, pulsing like silent questions. The crimson figure steps back slightly, lifting their violin, waiting for you to make the first move.
The amphitheater seems to lean in, waiting for the music to begin. As the group takes their first steps, you all feel the weight of intention: every choice you make will shape the harmony — or unleash dissonance. The score glows more brightly, urging you onward.
Shenua studies the score again, her demonic eyes following Iromae’s finger as the cleric points out the musical notes and the sections corresponding to each of them. Though still a bit uncertain about her own part, she trusts that clarity will come once they all begin to play.
Knowing the chimes are meant to bring balance to the other's contributions, the tiefling decides to familiarize herself with the instrument before playing. Stepping closer to it, she pauses, her arms crossed as her eyes trace the length of each metallic tube. After a moment, she uncrosses her arms, carefully raising the tuning fork and bringing it close to each tube, feeling—almost more than hearing—the sound and vibration they produce. With her eyes closed and her tail flicking gently behind her, she lets the tones wash over her, while she mentally maps their resonance to Kalis, Iromae, Vorenus, and Diego. She seeks to understand how each note might harmonize with the emotions and intentions the others bring to their instruments.
After a few moments, Shenua feels ready. She has chosen a combination of tubes that, when struck at the proper angle with the tuning fork, will complement and enhance the violin, drums, and lyre. Meeting Diego’s gaze, she locks eyes with him, a silent signal of her readiness to begin. Now, she waits for him to guide them all, to weave their contributions into a single, unified harmony.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Diego looks to his friends, everyone ready? Remember it's not how well you play it's more about bringing our intentions together, working together with our natural gifts to mend what has been broken, the weave. The heart knows no wrong notes, so let it lead and guide you. I love you all. Here we go. he raises the baton, reading the "music" set before him. Starting with Vorenus and Shenua, reading the symbols as they perform. Vorenus providing the steady pulse by which our work is done, while Shenua brings a certain balance and harmony to the beat. Diego points the baton to Iromae, bringing her quill across the lyre, highlighting different points in the weave. The he taps the baton in Kalis's direction as she brings the violin up and joins, filling in the blank spaces of the weave as Iromae stitches them together. Finally he brings his lute around, he strums the baton across the strings as the completed threads glow and radiant with the rhythm.
Iromae takes a moment to study the lyre before her, just as Shenua had studied her chimes. 'Ok, once we have the information figured out, Diego will lead us, I just have to follow him,' she thinks to herself, trying to keep calm. She's no performer, and she just tries to tell herself that it's her own abilities at work here and it will work out if they're together. She lifts her eyes up, trying to catch the gaze, even if briefly, of each of the others - Shenua, Kalis, Vorenus. Then she firmly fixes her eyes on Diego, watching him closely for direction, after giving him a little nod that she's ready.
As Diego indicates, she uses the glowing quill to strike the lyre. She trusts him to let her know when to act and her translation of the symbols of the score to let her know which strings to pluck.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
A big grin is fixed on the face of Vorenus, what he lacks in skill he makes up for in energy and exuberance as he starts pounding on the drum, looking to Diego to set the beat. He adds the steady beats of the drum to the song, going by feel and gut instinct, at times closing his eyes and feeling the rhythm. “That’s it my friends, Shaka putch a cha, Shaka putch a cha, bom bom bom bom bom bom… bom bom bom bom bom bom…”. For a moment Vorenus is transported back in time, interacting with his friends like long ago, remembering many a Diego-led benders in the past, going with the flow, like he was back in school all over again… “Yeah!”
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.