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Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

Did Changer of Forms get her own tent? :D

Shadows of the Forgotten Realm

The smile and cheerful continence that Cora held dimmed as her new companions shared their tales of loss. She was pleased that the serene swordswoman had accepted her gift. The finer things in life, the small pleasures such as rare spices, brought far greater joy when shared well with others. She had not lost her home. She had not lost her family. But she had seen enough in her travels. She had heard the mourning cries. The growing darkness was unmistakable. And suffering was never far away.

"Verđandi", Cora said, testing the name judiciously with her tongue. She had always had a gift for languages. For maps and names. The northern tongues had always been of great interest to her. "Your words are wise…and good! I am no fighter, this all can plainly see, but I seek to preserve this world. I save what was, not mere words or writings, but knowledge, so that someone can perhaps live to see what will be. What can be."

Harmless as he was, as she spoke about her lofty ambitions, of the knowledge she sought to recover, Cora seemed suddenly shrouded in flames. A roaring conflagration fueled by her fervor, that burned brighter than the modest fire in front of her. For a moment, she seemed to tower far above her modest form. And then she laughed, at herself more than any other, dispelling the illusion…leaving only a young woman huddling in the cold.

Putting down her now empty bowl of soup, Cora nodded to the fearsome mercenary with a gracious look of amusement that betrayed no notice of the amorous marks adorning his neck, "And your words, Bane, your words are wise as well. Forgive me for my lack of caution. My teachers always said that the passions of my heart too often outpaced the deliberations of my mind. Unfortunately, it would seem that I have not yet managed to break this unwelcome habit."

"I am brought here, to this place and this moment, by my own rashness, perhaps," Cora said, a flush of embarrassment, subtle red, apparent on her cheeks. "I came searching for an old ruin, a famed monastery, rich in history, and once a place of great learning. I found it, of course, but my escorts proved to be the unreliable sort, and abandoned me early in our explorations muttering something about curses. Having no wish to depart empty handed I delayed my departure for some days until my work could be completed. Unprepared as I was for this sudden spell of cold weather, I was most grateful to stumble upon all of you and this most welcome fire!"

Pausing to draw a deep breath, Cora buried a nervous laugh in her hands, shifting uncomfortably to readjust her traveling pack with sudden urgency, Forgive me...I fear I have may have said too much...

Finding her own nervousness impossible to avoid and wishing for no awkward silence, Cora desperately searched to shift the conversation. Unconvinced on the merits of pestering a masked man with pointed questions, she turned instead to their host, the old grizzled man who had doled out soup with endless generosity.

"Who are you kind, sir? To greet strangers with such kindness on a chill night such as this? Surely, you too must have a name and a story of your own?" Cora said, a charitable smile playing over her lips.

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

Some of these felt alarmingly accurate.

Garnet: Tired of just deserving better. Gonna start taking it by force.

Garnet: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine!
Aaliyah: How can you still say that?
Garnet: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

Mariel: I prevented a murder today.
Zaraknyvr: Really? That’s amazing! How did you do that?
Mariel: Self-control.

Raella: I typed "bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway.
Mariel:
Raella: Vroom vroom, come out already.

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

What could possibly go wrong with Garnet having some ancient or powerful arcane artifact???

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

Mariel

Body tense and limbs ready, Mariel reluctantly shook the hand of the many titled gnomish cartographer. Handshakes with strangers never had grown on her. She preferred polite nods. At a distance.

Dimensional travel suited her. With her stomach unburdened by arcane ice cream, Mariel suffered no discomfort stepping from here to there in the blink of an eye.

Melvin’s mention of Tir na Og had thrown her off. An unwelcome feeling that left her fighting the lump in her throat. The glint in the uninvited goblin's eyes had faded from her watchful gaze. She was up to something. Likely something mischievous. Possibly something criminal. Mariel did not judge. The cartographer was not part of her pack. Nor the goblin. They would have to stand for themselves. Such was the way of the wilderness.

Caught in the swirling waters of sorrow and worry, she did not care much either way. They were close. They were closer at the very least. There was no time to waste. There was no time for caution.

Gesturing towards the arrayed maps, Mariel spoke with a sharp blade of unwavering focus,“Do you have a recent map of these lands? From before and after Tir na Og… vanished?”

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

Teresa Changer of Forms

Teresa stumbled, coughing as dust threatened to overwhelm the filters of her mask. The Dust storm had arrived with little warning, sweeping over her as she hid from the fighting. Stupidly, she knew, stupidly she couldn’t help but feel a small tinge of joy seeing Vin and his loathsome gangsters fleeing, bloodied and battered.

Vin was not a good man. She knew that well. Teresa had met him before. More times than she would have liked. Longer than she had ever wanted. Doctors were rare after the Perishing Event. She was valuable. Vin had threatened her. He had forced her to help. The price to be allowed to live and to travel safely had been temporary servitude. Bitter tears tugged at the corner of her eyelids as she remembered. She wished she’d fought back.

Gasping for air, Teresa struggled to keep moving. She felt tired, her muscles ached. The adrenaline was fading. Scrambling inside a building, she made out what might have been a bird or perhaps a bat beneath the swirling clouds of sand. She crumbled against a wall, struggling to remove her mask. The air was musty, but she greedily breathed it in, relishing the unfiltered oxygen.

She heard voices. She couldn’t place them exactly. But they came from further inside. Unbidden, her hand moved towards her revolver. Her heart thumped, fresh fear coursing through her. She looked outside, watching the roiling storm that whipped dust mercilessly after her. She replaced her mask, covering her face once more. She was tired. Too weak to fight. And too tired to run. All thoughts she held of fleeing into the storm vanished.

Waiting would do no good. She needed warmth. She needed more shelter. Pulling herself to her feet, Teresa raised her hands up, palms facing forwards, in the universal sign of submission. She walked cautiously, but made no effort to be quiet. Surprising whoever had claimed the dilapidated building seemed unwise.

"Hello?" She said hesitantly, her voice measured, and weighed with anxiety. "Is anyone there?"

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

I'm going to make the next DM post on Monday, if anyone still wants to add anything before then.

@XxFellsingxX

Perfect, I'll post tomorrow or Sat, just got a bit busy irl.

Shadows of the Forgotten Realm

Loving the party vibe.

@rabidbacon

Forgot to respond, but same, everyone had a very neat and personal intro which was very fun!

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

Hooray!

Now to decide what Mariel does...

Shadows of the Forgotten Realm

The forest was a sea of shadows, trees dancing with the wind beneath the pale moonlight.

Humming a faint tune, Cora moved steadily through the woodlands, pulling her fur lined cloak tighter as the cold snapped at her fingers. Leather gloves did little to lessen the unwelcome chill. Her expedition had been difficult. Her companions had abandoned her. Their courage had lasted only to the entryway of the passage leading to the third chamber of the crumbling ruin.

Little inside had survived the inevitable passage of time. She had recovered only one tome, an ancient treatise on herbal medicine written by the great sage, Hawise the Kind. To the right buyer, it would be worth a generous weight of coin. The book now traveled safely, wrapped in a waterproofed leather, and tucked safely in the hidden pocket of Cora’s traveling pack.

Cora’s pace had slowed with darkness. She had many leagues left to travel. Weariness had taken hold in her muscles. She had not expected the freezing cold. The eternal autumn seldom brought such weather. An hour, perhaps two, she had promised herself, and then she would rest for the night. She felt the cold iron of the wind biting every measure of her exposed skin, gnawing tirelessly at her bones.

She stumbled. She stumbled and then firelight caught her eyes. She heard voices and smelled food, simmering welcomingly over bright flames. Words reached Cora as she walked closer. Dark shadows became people. Four strangers sat around the fire. A graybeard, commanding over the food and fire. An imposing man, a sentry sat watchfully, clad in armor, and bearing a sword. A silvery woman, no less proud, adorned for battle, and wearing a forested crown. And a final stranger, cloaked in layers of fabric, and wearing a mask that brought to mind some beast of the wilds.

“Kindness on the road, is a light in places dark, and places cold,” Cora said, approaching unafraid. The lilt of her voice, soft and floating, was filled with warmth, dignified in the way that the nobility from Mythralis or Odoncester often spoke. Her hood fell back as she strode into the full light of the campfire, revealing a welcoming smile and long hair tousled and touched by the freshly disturbed dust gathered over the centuries.

Showing a carefully cultivated sense of restraint, Cora moved slowly, kindly curtsying as she took the bowl of steaming soup that the old man offered her. Taking a seat close to the fire, she retrieved a small vial from her traveling pack. Uncorking the vial, Cora sprinkled a splash of dried powder onto her soup.

“Many thanks, good sir, it shames me that I have no great gift to give in return. However, these spices are yours to use, if you please.”

“And yours as well,” Cora added, nodding in turn at the gathered strangers. She placed the re-corked vial further away from her, making her intentions plain.

“Vayl, a spice from the far kingdom of Lerone. Alas, it is a rarity in our realm in this age. It is sweet, with a smokey flavor. Learned masters of medicine say that it is an aid to the process of digestion. However, I must confess, I simply find the taste pleasing,” she explained with a small laugh.

Sipping politely at her soup with a spoon hastily withdrawn from her pocket, the young woman sighed happily. She felt restored. New warmth coursed through her, soothing the dull aches that she felt in her limbs. Curiosity played at her thoughts, tugging gently at her desire to know, always to know more.

“Forgive me, for I have neglected to observe the old rites and rituals expected of a trustworthy traveler. You must have my name. You must know my profession. I am Cora, Cora Bennett. Cora the Scholar they call me. I am a purveyor of books, particularly rare books, and a provider of all services related to the written word should you require it. Well met!”