The Van Richten Monster Hunting Academy

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

The year is 780.
The Time of Unparalleled Darkness came and passed, many of Ravenloft's greatest heroes and villains are gone, the WF sisters are my mom's age, and it's about time for a new generation of adventurers to start their journey in the mists.
Luckily, we're the third one. Our path is a perilious one, but we enter it a little more prepared than our formers, learning from their experience. The Van Richten Society is a serious organisation now, and it's offering a training program!
We hail from different domains and species, and bring different skills and abilities to the fight against evil. Some of us study in the society's main headquarters in Mordentshire or its equivalent in another domain, while others train individually or in small groups under a single mentor. Many of us are youths dreaming of life of adventure, but some might be, like Van Richten himself, adults who were spurred from their ordinary life by some tragedy and want to learn how to fight back. Some of us might even come from a different world. But we're all united by one cause: To strike back against the darkness that dominates our world, and nudge it into a little better place.
Remember: The fight against creature of the night is a hard one - but it is a good fight, and one that must be fought!

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

So how are we doing this?


Canon
The campaign starts 4-5 years after the ToUD. We don't know what exactly happened, but it was weird. The Land of Mists has changed at least as much as it was after the Grand Conjuction, and chaos is due.
The lore here is going to be a strange mixture of 2-3e, 5e, netbook-canon and new homebrew. Preferably as much new homebrew as possible. The only rule is that we don't retcon what other people say, but build upon it.
(Example: If Bob says "Strahd died during the ToUD", and Alice wants Strahd to stay alive, she doesn't say "Liar! He's still in Barovia!" - She says "Oh, that's what everyone thinks. But I heard rumors that he's actually hiding in Souragne disguised as a bat!" - And if Alex's character had been to Souragne lately, xe can add that "It's more than a rumour - He bit me a few months ago! I mean, I know there are natural bats that suck blood, but how often do they feed on humans? And I swear that one seemed like a fruit-bat!")


Format

This is going to be what I like to call 'epistolary roleplay': Each post is an in-world letter sent by a character. We're all monster-hunting apprentices from different domains, corresponding about our studies and adventures. I'm choosing it because I think it will allow us to explore more parts of the worldbuilding if we write from different domains, and because it solves the scheduling problem: We aren't playing together the same scene, so we don't have to wait for eachother to write more - but our plots can still be intertwined in the long term.
Rules:
- Clarity. Mention what character are you writing each 'letter' as, and who are you sending it too.
- Character-player Knowledge Separation. Don't comment in-world on a 'letter' that wasn't sent to you, unless you have an in-world explanation to how you got to read it. However, you can and should include in your plot details that interact with those of others.


Characters
- I'd rather keep well-known canon characters such as the WF sisters as mentioned-only (You can involve them as side-characters, but not play them), as to give new characters more shine - but this is not a strict rule. However, if you choose to play one, don't disappoint. Be in-character. Don't turn a beloved hero into an incompetent jerk 'for the twist' - and that is a strict rule.
- Pretty much anyone who means well and is willing to learn can be accepted into the VRMHA, so don't limit yourselves on species/classes. Warlocks are a little suspicious, as they usually bargain with the type of beings the VRS is supposed to hunt, but also invaluable for the insight they can offer on these creatures. Members of a species with monstrous origins are mostly accepted, though more old-fashioned mentors might be prejuiced against them. If you want to play a species that isn't mentioned in the Ravenloft sourcebooks cause it isn't a core species or didn't exist in 2-3e or someone decided it 'doesn't fit the horror genre', that's your opportunity to homebrew. Make an orc domain, a tabaxi domain, a dragonborn domain...

Character Form
- Name
- Pronouns
- Species
- Class(es) and subclass(es)
- Home Domain(s)
- Physical description
- Ideal, bond, flaw
- Duck (a goofy and harmless trait) and Nail (a badass and/or scary trait)
- Worst fear (As in, the worst thing you think can happen to you)
- Worst fear (As in, a fear that occupies your thoughts or hampers you in daily life)
- Short backstory
- How did you get into the training program, and who's your mentor?
- Current sketch
- Notable possesions
- Other notes

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

- Name - Sarker
- Pronouns - Fy/Fyre, He/Him
Brass Dragonborn
GOOlock 3 (But with different flavour!)/Wizard 1
- Home Domain(s) - Ke'lehavah (My homebrew domain, I'll make it up as we go along.)
- Physical description - ridiculously tall even for a dragonborn (almost 2.6 meters), dim golden scales, diamond-like eyes.
- Ideal: Improvement. If I must fall, I'll rise better each time.
Bond: My clan. Both the one I left behind, and the one I found along the way
Flaw: I value most things - including myself - only for their usefulness.
- Duck (a goofy and harmless trait): Sarker often reads people's minds to find out what makes them happy and surprise them with it. Sometimes it works well, sometimes it doesn't.
Nail (a badass and/or scary trait): Sarker isn't cruel, but fy's pragmatic. Fy'll do what needs to be done, by any means necessary. Fyre only exceptions are that he'd never betray those fy considers fyre clan, and wouldn't cheat for something fy can achieve honestly with some more effort.
- Worst fear (As in, the worst thing you think can happen to you) - Being useless to those who need fyre.
- Worst fear (As in, a fear that occupies your thoughts or hampers you in daily life) - Misunderstanding the situation.
- Short backstory - In Ke'lehavah, the dragonborns never broke free from their old masters. They serve the draconic darklord, Avadorn, whose love can be more dangerous than zir ire.
There's nothing worse than being chosen as Avadorn's champion. The ancient Emerald dragon has unfathomable psionic powers, and ze loves to share them with zir subjects - but mortals are ill-equipped to handle the power, and it takes a toll on their mind. A champion is chosen on their 15th birthday, to serve as Avadorn's agent in other domains, and usually starts going mad by the age of 20.
Sarker is 19.
- How did you get into the training program, and who's your mentor? - Sarker was sent by Avadorn to establish diplomatic relationships between Ke'lehavah and several Core domains. Shock at the yet-unheard-of creature followed him wherever fy went. After fyre attempts in Nova Vassa went disastrously wrong, people called the local monster-hunter. It wasn't a pleasant encounter, but luckily George was in a good enough mood to ask a few questions before shooting. They had a pretty long conversation (with Sarker still trapped in a net hanging from a tree in the middle of the forest) that was cut short when the aforementioned tree attacked. There are some experiences you can't just go through together without becoming friends, and fighting a 4-meters-tall dread treant is one of them. The unlikely pair traveled together for a while. They had a lot in common: Both were quiet, direct folks, cynical but fiercely loyal, terrible with words so they had to compensate for it with deeds. Sarker joined the old ranger in his adventures hoping a heroic reputation would help fyre overcome the people's prejudice enough to succeed in fyre initial mission, but was quickly drawn into the noble quest of protecting the innocent from creatures of the night etc.
Three months ago, when the two were cornered by mindflayers in Borca, George chose to stay behind so Sarker can escape. He handed fyre a letter, told fyre to go to Mordent and give it to his nieces, then screamed at fyre to flee.
- Current sketch - Sarker resided in Heather House for the past few weeks. The Mordentish aren't especially friendly to giant lizards, but so far fy hadn't gotten anything worse than strange looks. Lady Gennifer seems to be fond of fyre, and curious about the land fy came from. Fy doesn't know yet what to make out of her. She took the news of her uncle's apparent death with grim acceptance, as if she had a feeling it would happen. Sarker is far more shaken by it - he blames fyreself for being too weak to fight by fyre mentor's side, and is determined to improve as a monster-hunter. Fy spoke to her of that, and she offered to teach him what she knows of the arcane, alongside several local students.
He realises this is fyre biggest success so far in creating connections with a foreign ruler, the first real step towards achieving his initial goal in coming to The Core, but fy is hesitant to drag the conversation into matters of state. So much had happened since fy left Ke'lehavah! The emissary's role was a labour imposed upon a slave, now fy realises; The hero's calling was a freeman's choice. Conflicted about fyre homeland and dreading the day his curse would manifest, fy distracts himself from these concerns by spending every waking hour studying, training or helping other people with their issues.
- Notable possessions - Like all of Avadorn's chosen ones, Sarker wears an emerald ring engraved with 'mine' on the inside. It acts as a 'pact of the talisman' amulet. Fy's unable to take it off. He also carries a shortbow that George carved personally for him.
- Other notes: Sarker prefers telepathy to speech. It removes doubts about subtext or double meanings, which fy finds extremely convenient. Some of fyre kin back home considered it the first sign of fyre upcoming madness; Fy thinks it's just practical.

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

If you're interested in participating this RPG, please comment with an Azalin emoji so I'll know there's a demand for it.

[Speedwagon]

If you're interested in participating this RPG, please comment with an Azalin emoji so I'll know there's a demand for it.

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

If you're interested in participating this RPG, please comment with an Azalin emoji so I'll know there's a demand for it.

Welcome!
Do you have a character?

[Mistmaster]

My character would not qualify as a trainee member of the Van Richten Society, as he is Van Richten's Mentor, Dr Archibald Everlast.

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

My character would not qualify as a trainee member of the Van Richten Society, as he is Van Richten's Mentor, Dr Archibald Everlast.

Do you have a way to tie him to the story in 780, or do you want to make a new character?

[Mistmaster]

Obviously he would be in good relationship with the Twins and with George. Being an immortal book-sworn lich means time cause him no troubles. He can never spend too time in a single place though. Or people he loves starts to ged unfortunate accidents. He can and does travel with people.

[Speedwagon]

If you're interested in participating this RPG, please comment with an Azalin emoji so I'll know there's a demand for it.

Welcome!
Do you have a character?

Thank you! I don't have one yet but I'd like to have one fully written up by Saturday and put details here. I look forward to being a part of this.

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

Obviously he would be in good relationship with the Twins and with George. Being an immortal book-sworn lich means time cause him no troubles. He can never spend too time in a single place though. Or people he loves starts to ged unfortunate accidents. He can and does travel with people.

Book-sworn lich? Cool! I love non-standard liches! I'm super curious about the details, but Imma be patient cause I'd like to see it shown mid-play rather than told.

[Mistmaster]

Character Form
- Archibald Alexander Thomas Everlast
- Pronouns He/Him
- Species Human Booksworn Lich, almost impossible todetect as an undead.
- Class(es) and subclass(es) Human Wizard Savant 20 (Homebrew subclass, it simply justify the fact that he knows and cast pretty much any spell from any list)
- Home Domain(s) Archibald was born in Zherisia 750 years ago, but since he has wandered the mistworld, visiting every domain at least once. He owns at least one book-shop
in each of those.
- Physical description: A smiling, balding man in his early seventies, with an aquiline nose and smiling green eyes, always wearing simple but clean and elegant travel clothes.
A book, a booknote, a pen or a piece of paper are rarely seen separate from him.
- Ideal, bond, flaw
Knowledge is his ideal , spreading it to reduce the first cause of evil, which is ignorance, be it academical, emotive or practical ignorance. He is also a doctor, and he holds
to his medical vows.
His bond is with his many, many pupils he had during the centuries, which includes von Richten, von Mordenheim, Azalin, briefly, and many others.
His flaw is his undying optimism, which often stays his hand allowing evil being to continue to pose a threath. He seiously believe that, except for fiends, any sentient being
has a potential for redemption. This includes undead , lycanthropes, and monsters seen as always evil as the Red Widows. He will help fighting them and will not condemn
people killing them in seld-defense, but he will try and pursue other roads.
- Duck he cracks the worst dad jokes you can ever dream of and Nail well, he is maybe the most powerfull spellcaster of the whole land and he is
an immortal. Bad ass enough.
- Worst fear : to loose hope in a better world.
- Worst fear: People he cares for getting harmed because of him.
- Short backstory: A rite from Strhad when the vampire was still relatively young. Gone wrong for him, but very good for the then alive Dr Everlast.
- How did you get into the training program, and who's your mentor. I am one of the trainer when it is possible tome. I was Van Richten's mentor. And the Foxgrov-
Weathermays and George call me uncle.
- Current sketch: Wandering the domains with a magical mule pulling a magical wagon, which, inside, is a three-store house manor. The curse who harms my close froends kicks in if I
spend more then 15days in the same place so I never stay too much.
- Notable possesions. Spectacles of true seeing, and a Mist Compassm which allows forfastand safe travel in Mists.

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

Character Form
- Archibald Alexander Thomas Everlast
- Pronouns He/Him
- Species Human Booksworn Lich, almost impossible todetect as an undead.
- Class(es) and subclass(es) Human Wizard Savant 20 (Homebrew subclass, it simply justify the fact that he knows and cast pretty much any spell from any list)
- Home Domain(s) Archibald was born in Zherisia 750 years ago, but since he has wandered the mistworld, visiting every domain at least once. He owns at least one book-shop
in each of those.
- Physical description: A smiling, balding man in his early seventies, with an aquiline nose and smiling green eyes, always wearing simple but clean and elegant travel clothes.
A book, a booknote, a pen or a piece of paper are rarely seen separate from him.
- Ideal, bond, flaw
Knowledge is his ideal , spreading it to reduce the first cause of evil, which is ignorance, be it academical, emotive or practical ignorance. He is also a doctor, and he holds
to his medical vows.
His bond is with his many, many pupils he had during the centuries, which includes von Richten, von Mordenheim, Azalin, briefly, and many others.
His flaw is his undying optimism, which odten stays his hand allowing evil being to continue to pose a theath. He seiously believe that, except for fiends, any sentien being
has a potential for redemption. This includes undead , lycanthropes, and monsters seen as always evil as the Red Widows. He will help fighting them and will not condemn
people killing them in seld.defense, but he will try and pursue other roads.
- Duck he cracks the worst dad jokes you can ever dream of and Nail well, he is maybe the most powerfull spellcaster of the whole land and he is
an immortal. Bad ass enough.
- Worst fear : to loose hope in a better world.
- Worst fear: People he cares for getting harmed because of him.
- Short backstory: A rite from Strhad when the vampire was still relatively young. Gone wrong for him, but very good for the then alive Dr Everlast.
- How did you get into the training program, and who's your mentor. I am one of the trainer when it is possible tome. I was Van Richten's mentor. And the Foxgrov-
Weathermays and George call me uncle.
- Current sketch: Wandering the domains with a magical mule pulling a magical wagon, which, inside, is a three-store house manor. The curse who harms my close froends kicks in if I
spend more then 15days in the same place so I never stay too much.
- Notable possesions. Spectacles of true seeing, and a Mist Compassm which allows forfastand safe travel in Mists.

Beautiful.

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

To Avadorn of the Crystal Horde
Your Brightness, I am deeply sorry that it took me so long to send word of my whereabouts. Travel is dangerous in these realms, espacially nowadays. The roads are filled with robbers, mist-creatures and even stranger things - and the cities are not much safer, not for one of your humble servants.
You see, the mainland - as strange as it sounds - is filled with small, scale-less people, with round heads partially covered in fur. I have deducted that these are some sort of strixikoid mammals. Yes, mammals. Further examination must be conducted by one more educated in biology than I am, but am quite certain in this hypothesis, and I hope you think better of me than to dismiss this report as a prank. They're divided into many races and nations, rule scattered between dozens of small countries - and none of them had ever seen a strixiki before me, other than wild rumours of 'lizard-like outlanders'.
As inconcivable as these people seemed to me, so am I to them - and unfortunately, the majority of them did not respond well to the surprise. Many are terrified by my size and appearance, even considering me a monster. I have no grudge toward them: How else would they respond upon first contact with a creature so different - and much stronger - than them? But they have made my mission difficult, barring me entrance to settlements and at times attacking me unprovoked. The few who were tolerant demanded endless explanations of my existence.
This, compared to the overall chaos of the realm, is the reason that this week is the first in my two-year expedition when I managed to find safety, proper rest, paper and pen at the same time for long enough to compose a letter. Unfortunately, it will also take me a while to find a messanger to carry it to Your Brightness, so expect some of the information I'm relying here to be outdated by the time you read it.

- The Baron of Liffe was startled to see me at first, but quickly reinstated himself and got straight to buissness. Then stayed there for quite a while. He seemed to think we are to negotiate every aspect of the future treaty during that first meeting, and I felt uncomfortable to refuse - though of course I've clarified I'm unqualified to make official decisions on your behalf. I could swear we conversed for a year, though the clock outside his study had shown I was there only for ten minutes.

- A little (well, a lot) to the south, I found a tiny island full of crows. It was inhabited by one woman, who was strange but very nice. She sounded like a scholar of some sort, and suggested to help find a cure for The Chosen's Curse if I help her find her name, which she'd forgotten. We struck a deal, but honestly, I have no idea how to go about my side of it. Two years later and I still don't have a clue. What a shame.

- The Hazlani people, short and copper-skinned, were refreshingly unimpressed by my appearance, as if they'd seen weirder. Their ruler, Archmage Eleni, was endlessly curious about strixikikind - so curious, in fact, she wanted to dissect me for anatomical research! Needless to say, I eldrich blasted her to the other end of the room

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and ran away screaming.

- I did not visit Count Strahd of Barovia, on account of every single local who was willing to talk to me warning that he's the devil incarnate and those who enter his castle do not return. Knowing this mission depends on my survival, I didn't want to take such a risk.

- My introduction to Nova Vassa's Council of Lords had resulted - by accident and through little to no fault of my own - in the destruction of the prince's palace (luckily, not the one he usually uses), death or injury of several noblemen and a monster hunter being sent after me. Fortunately, I managed to explain the situation to said hunter

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should I mention George, or would that complicate things?

- From there I preceeded, alongside my new companion, to cross the mountain range named 'The Mountains of Misery'.

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It truly was a misery to climb that incline!

My companion was not a young man, but he was accustomed to travel and fared far better than I had. I could never survive that part of the journey without his knowledge of navigation - or of dealing with the fey and undead that preyed on us at night. He wasn't very talkative, but it suited me: I did not know any of the local languages yet, and conversation meant wasting my precious spell-slots.

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I wouldn't refuse some more of those...

Our few conversations were short, and concerned with the path, the state of food and supplies and the wonders and dangers we might encounter next.
- The wizard-king of Darkon, the next country we visited, was rumoured to be missing - and honestly, after the incident in Hazlan, I admit I was glad to not have to face another mage. I had dangers enough for now.
My companion, however, hadn't. In more than one of the villages we passed through, the locals facing some sort of a supernatural threat. To my surprise, the hunter didn't even wait to get hired before starting to investigate. This seemed to be a routine matter for him - to appear in a settlement, solve people's troubles there, then vanish. ('Like a brownie.' He chuckled when I pointed it out. 'An old, grumpy brownie. Never thought about this before.' When I asked what a brownie is, he shrugged and returned to his usual silence.) At first I assisted him in these expeditions only out of concern for the life of my only guide in this land; But learning how emotion manifests on the faces of strixikoid humans, I started recognizing the locals' expressions every time we returned - relief and gratitude. They paid my companion respects fit for a king - which he modestly rejected - and treated me a little less like a singing gelatinious cube. I quickly realised that if there was a way for a strange creature such as myself to earn a sufficient reputation for locals to consider me as a potential ally rather than a monster or a test subject, it was the path of the wandering hero.

- I regret to inform you that I had not seen much of Lamordia during our stay there, though it was quite long. My companion fell ill shortly after we arrived (The strixikoid mammals seem to be especially sensitive to the cold), and he insisted I should not live the inn unescorted in these regions: In Darkon, people were relatively used to different species coexisting and all that was required for them to accept a 'giant lizard' was a proof of my good will; This land, on the other hand, was populated solely by the species of strixikoid mammals he called 'humans' - the majority in this continent, and species he belonged to - who considered other sapient species freaks of nature. Recalling the incident in Hazlan, I asked if they'd want to dissect me - He answered there might be one man willing to go that far, but this wasn't his main concern. He was more worried about a group called 'The Syndicate of Enlightened Citizens', dedicated to the eradication of 'magical creatures', that apparently tried to hire him a few years ago. I'll try to gather more information regarding this society, which could pose a serious danger to our efforts.

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In these weeks of self-imposed imprisonment in The Breaking Wave, we had little to do but talk, and my silent companion finally opened up. He was a nobleman from a nearby realm, who ran off as a youth looking for adventure.
"I started hunting monsters because I wanted to restore my family to its former glory. When I grew older, and saw the true nature of darkness, I realised I can't even protect them - so I continued, but as a quest for vengence. Silly of me. Now, I do so because someone has to." He said one evening. "But I can't be that someone for long."
"You aren't dying, are you?" I asked frightfully, wishing I'd learned some healing spells.
"I hope not." He sighed. "But the bow grows heavier in my hands with every passing day, and the spirits of the forest haven't spoken to me in years. It's a nice journey we're having, Sarker, but it better be my last one. It's about time for me to come home - If I'm still wanted."
"And where would that be?" My fear gave way to curiousity. "Your home, I mean."
Then he spoke of his land, Mordent, describing every town and every tree.
"But of course," He finished, "You can come and see it yourself! It's only a few weeks to the south. Once I get rid of this damned fever, we'll head there. What do you think?"
"Will I be wanted there?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Some blokes might give you a funny look, but nothing worse. My nieces would love you, I think, even if they hate me." He shrugged. "Especially Genny."
"I'm looking forward to meet her." I smiled. If my companion has ties to the nobility, he might manage to get them to listen. Mordent would be the perfect opportunity to finally progress with the purpose of my expedition!
"Same for me." He nodded. "She can teach you things I cannot - these powers of you, she'd know more about that. Good wizard, she is. Wanted to be a hunter too when she was younger - was, for a while - but... I guess it's my fault. Someone had to lead the house after dad died, and I was to stubborn to come back, so she took the burden. I hope she doesn't hate me enough to deny another the opportunity I denied her."
The opportuny he denied her? He -
"Do you wish me to be a hunter?" I asked.
"Well, it's not like you have to." He shrugged. "There are others who'd take on my work, like I'd taken on it from my mentor. But you were a good asistant so far. I think you can be a good hunter if you wanted to."
I pondered on this a little.
And I found I wasn't even surprised to realize that yes, I wanted.

You might think this uneventful stay was the perfect time to start writing a report - which I had. The reasons you did not recieve it, Your Brightness, would be explained shortly.

- Once my companion was hale, we took a sleigh to Carlion-le-Duc, entering the (considerably warmer) domain of Dementlieu. My reputation preceeded me by this point, and locals seemed excited to meet 'the dragon-man from beyond the mists' (I tried to clarify that I am not a man, and that Ke'lehava is now part of the Nocturnal Sea, but nobody seemed to listen.), and in every town we traveled through I was invited to one social event or another. My companion wished to continue on our journey ASAP, but I refused - what better opportunity would I have to fullfil my duty as an embassador?

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Frankly, I was also relieved to finally have company. With all the respect to my companion, he was a highly introverted man, often distant and aloof. I have such a side too, but my more social side craved for a more talkative friend.

My companion understood, and volenteered to educate me on Dementlieuse society and politics. However, most of his teachings turned out to be more confusing than helpful: He confidently elaborated on noble houses the locals had no memory of, and was unaware - even denied the existence - of several of the most prominent figures in the realm. I thought his information was just outdated - he had spent the past few decades on the other side of the continent - but he insisted that some gaps simply make no sense, which I was forced to admit when many of the people he'd 'never heard of' claimed to know him well. He suspected either some nefarious force was at work - his more scholarly colleagues spoke occasionally on 'false history' and the like - or his own aging brain was becoming unreliable. I couldn't decide which option was worse: My beloved comrade losing his mind, or the existence of beings that can effectively steal the mind of whole countries.
However, I was beginning to fear I am the one losing fyre mind, starting to see flashes of geomerically-impossible shapes and a bleak wasteland with a red sun. At the end of one dinner party, while I was making my way through the empty streets of Port-A-Lucine, I found myself surrounded by strixikoid octupy. Now, after two year among strixikoid mammals I could accept just about any kind of creature - but the second a group of chattering girls crossed the street, the vision faded. I wasn't nearly as alarmed as I felt I was supposed to be: The chosen one's curse was going to claim me sooner or later, the question was how to manage it. I minimized the usage of my pact magic, and, noticing the hallucinations always appeared when I was alone, tried my best to surround myself with people. I considered telling my companion of this, but did not wish to burden him any more; And as for others, I made in Dementlieu many pleasant acquaintances, but no true friends with which I could share a personal struggle. Nor were they buisness partners: Many of them claimed a noble title of some sort, but most seemed to have no real understanding of what such position is supposed to entail beyond appearance.

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I reached the conclusion we're all mad here. Maybe that's where the place got its name from!

When I recieved an invitation to a masquerade hosted by the duchess D'Honaire - a major force in the city and one of the personalities my companion did not recognise - I hopped on the opportunity to investigate what in the first flame is going on here. My companion was worried he'd make an embarrassment of himself, but I reassured him that
1) He seems perfectly fine other than several specific memory gaps, and I tend to believe these are indeed caused by an outer factor, affecting the realm rather than himself.
2) Even if there is something wrong with his memory, no one would flaming notice! They'd be too busy looking at the 'dragon man'!
The ball started great and ended horribly. As this is a report and not an epic poem, I would not elaborate on the course of the fight; It suffices to say we crossed the duchess, and had to flee the capital ASAP jumping into the nearest patch of mist - thus we had no time to gather our belongings, including the original draft of this report.

- Falkovnia greeted us with blades to the throat - a response that felt twice as cruel after Dementlieu reminded me how it feels like to not be seen as a monster. However, I quickly got the impression that this is how all foreigners are treated in the domain. The gaurds demanded papers we didn't have, my companion got salty, one soldier threatened to impale us, I threatened to burn him, and we would've come to blows had the zombies not attacked first. Fighting side-by-side wasn't enough to turn us into best friends, but we developed enough cordiality for them to take us to their leader rather than kill us on spot.
Kingfurher Vlad Drakov wasn't in good shape when we met him. His limbs were musclar by strixiki standards and gigantic for a member of a smaller species, but shuddered with every movement. He could barely walk - though he refused to use any kind of mobility aids - and there was something odd about the corner of his mouth. He whispered his words for a female soldier named Vladeska

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(she seemed young enough to be named after him)

to translate his mumbling to us, which seemed to be the most frustrating part of the situation for him. I pitied him, a proud warrior reduced into a shadow of himself - and wondered if that's what would become of me when the curse was done with me. My companion, on the other hand, had no mercy for the man - he explained to me that Drakov was among the worst tyrants in the entire land of mists, though I failed to see why: He sounded no worse than Your Brightness.
The king ordered to throw us into the front lines (The capital had apparently been besieged by an army of undead for a while) - which my companion wouldn't hear of. A quick glimpse into his mind showed me that he wanted Falkovnia to fall, this much he hated the country. I mentally warned him that this attitude would get us killed tonight - either by Drakov or by the zombies - and excused his reluctance as a matter of health concerns, begging the king to not send into war an old man barely capable of lifting his sword (at which my companion rolled his eyes, but proceeded to play along.) I doubt this would have convinced Drakov, but Vladeska had apparently heard of my companion's long career as a hunter of the undead, and decided that he'd be of more use as a strategic advisor.

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He was tempted to feed them with misinformation. I confronted him on this, asking if he'd let the people die for their leader's sins. It... Wasn't a pleasant conversation.

In the aftermath of the battle, Vladeska and I discussed. I explained my mission. She explained she was the king's granddaughter, who grew up idolizing him - until she realised his faults. Drakov's policy had isolated Falkovnia from its neighbors, now leaving them to face the zombie attacks alone. But his days are numbered. Soon another - hopefully less obssessed - ruler would inherit him, and she stands a fair chance. She'd need allies as fierce as the dragons, and would offer in return 'everything we'd ask - in the limits of reason'. However, would that not put us against the rest of the Core? I answered we'd think about it, leaving the decision in your claws.

- I have no idea what the first flame happened in Borca. I burnt myself out in the siege of Lekar, and my sanity was quickly eroding. I think my companion tried to instruct me on the realm as he had previously, but I was too deep inside my broken mind to listen. I saw the octupus-people from the corner of my eyes now, heard them at the limits of my hearing, felt their tentacles pressing against my scales. I was too distracted to remember any of what happened around me. All I know is that one night, the nightmare became real.
The octupus-people came for us.
Both of us.
My memories of that night are blurry and contradictive. All I know for sure is that the next morning I woke up lucid for the first time in days, and painfully so; For I knew my companion was gone, and knew his blood was on my hands. Only one thing kept me going: The thought of his nieces. I must get to them, let them know what was his end.

- From there I headed to Mordent, where I currently reside. It's a relatively insignificant country, its population small and scatterred, but I doubt it would remain so for long. While the majority of the population is conservative and traditional, some - including Earl Gennifer Weathermay-Foxgrove, the current ruler - are determined to bring their land progress. It took me two days to get from Blackburn's Crossing to Mordentshire by carriage, but I was told by an excited barmaid that half a year from now the same journey would take less than two hours, thanks to a new invention called 'train'. As I inquired more about the latter (and observed the construction site from afar), it turned out to be an iron rail on which was supposed to run a steam-powered caravan (I'd try to find and attach a blueprint) - far less efficient than the portals we have back home, but considering strixikoid mammals' suspicion of arcane magic, I can understand why it would be seen as more reliable. (My carriage driver was less enthusiastic about 'the metal monster going to ravage our quiet homeland', considering it a sign of ill luck - which I attributed to the fact it's probably going to steal his job.
My that last part of my journey had been a melancholious one, but it was a melancholy of the good sort, the paradoxically-comforting one. The gloom of the woods suited that of my heart. I found myself fondly recalling my adventures and misadventures, pondering what I've learned. My heart still had a George-Weathermay-shaped-hole in it, but it was slowling growing around it. By the time I stood in front of Heather House's gates, I felt almost peaceful.
Lady Gennifer took the news of her uncle's apparent death with strange acceptance. It's been a long time since she had hope of seeing him again - a pre-known tragedy. She wasn't angry as he feared she'd be, but... Well, she sounded like he was already dead to her. However, she was hellbent on finding out the circumstances of his death - anything would be better than the uncertainty, she said. She asked to hear my story, and I told it, begginning to end, with some tears in the middle. She listened distantly, as if it was the tale of strangers - only when I spoke of his confession in Lamordia and his determination to come home did she finally weep. She called the octopus-people 'illithids', and said they might have kept my companion alive - though in what state is a frightening thought.
Heather House is teeming with life right now, inhabited by Lady Gennifer, her father, partner and children - as well as numerous guests of such variety that I didn't even feel special. The only person who seemed wary of me was the father, Mr. Foxgrove - and even he seemed to grudgingly accept me as another one of his daughter's shenanigans.

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Many of the guests were, not unlike me, young people who chose a heroic calling. Another one, Dr. Archibald, gave us daily lessons in battle magic until he left yesterday. Lady Gennifer's sister, Laurie, is supposed to arrive next week and train us in melee combat and monster-hunting strategy (I wonder if she heard the news by now). Lady Gennifer herself supervises our studies when she has the time to, which isn't very often.
The more I think about it, training as a monster-hunter makes more sense:
As things stand right now, the strixikoid are practically aliens to The Core, as unknowable and terrifying to them as the illithids are to us. Nearly every attempt on my side to act as an embassedor failed miserably, for the simple reason I was too mysterious to normally negotiate with. But by traveling around and proving myself as a hero, I can create a good impression regarding our kind and pave the road for the next diplomat.

No, not good enough - what if ze wouldn't accept my reasoning? What if ze sees through my excuses that I've tasted freedom and hate to give it up? Can ze curse me from afar? Or would ze hurt my clan? I can't take risks.

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But I'm afraid this was only a temporary respite.
They're coming for me again. I can hear them hissing, calling. They're everywhere. I won't let them hurt anyone but me this time! I'm afraid I must tell none, not even Your Brightness, where I'm going now, lest the letter be stolen. This would be a lonely quest, from which I do not expect to return, but it is the only choice, only way to not bring this threat into our beloved kingdonsvnrgekgeavljslfaaaaahhhhhhhh

Too dramatic, unbelievable. Even if they buy it, people might come to 'rescue' me. Something else.

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Unfortunately, I'm afraid my sanity is starting to slip away. Though my 'hallucinations' were apperantly largely illithid attacks, it does not mean my curse did not manifest in other ways. I'd rather not elaborate, as this is a very private matter. I'm aware of my surroundings just enough to realise that letting me perform any sort of an official role in my current condition is a terrible idea.
Do not worry for me: I'm taken care of well. I beg you to not send after me either: it would break my father's heart to see me this way. I hope I served you well over the past four years; All I ask in return is to be allowed to rest where I am.

Again, not good - ze might decide it's a waste of zir energy to keep granting me magic. Do I even want it? I don't know. But... Well, I saw plenty of Chosen Ones who kept working after the curse started getting to them. Folks who knew they were a little crazy, but didn't let it get in the way of serving the kingdom. But those who fully succumbed, who'd gone too far to be of use? We never heard from them again. I don't know for sure what happens to them, but do I want to find out?

.

- A draft by Sarker son of Torizen.
Had been gathering dust in fyre drawer for a month.


[Off-play:
- It took me a whole week to write this, so I hope you're enjoying.
- George's fate is intentionally left open-ended, so we can found out later whether he's dead, held captive by the mindflayers, turned into a mindflayer or something wackier.
- Similarly, I left Gennifer's family 'blank', so people who actually have headcanons about it or want to play her children can fill it in.
- Yes, the Mordentshire-BB train - and who doesn't want it to happen - is going to be a major plot line in the Mordent part of the story. I think it's a fun way of showing how technology in the core advances.
- If you think I'm breaking my own role with my portrayal of Gennifer, comment in private. I'm kinda struggling between not wanting to make her suck but also not wanting her to steal the show, but also not really knowing how she would canonically behave (I didn't any of the twins' Guides other than VRA yet). If anyone else wants to play her, take the reins.
- The format should be:
[*]In-world texts, the bulk of the roleplay:

In quotes.

[*]Notes on the text's whereabouts: normal.
[*]Off-play remarks or explanations: [In square parentheses.]

[TheArcaneWeirdo]

To Avadorn of the Crystal Horde
Your Brightness, I am deeply sorry that it took me so long to send word of my whereabouts. Travel is dangerous in these realms, espacially nowadays. The roads are filled with robbers, mist-creatures and even stranger things - and the cities are not much safer, not for one of your humble servants.
You see, the mainland - as strange as it sounds - is filled with small, scale-less people, with round heads partially covered in fur. I have deducted that these are some sort of strixikoid mammals. Yes, mammals. Further examination must be conducted by one more educated in biology than I am, but am quite certain in this hypothesis, and I hope you think better of me than to dismiss this report as a prank. They're divided into many races and nations, rule scattered between dozens of small countries - and none of them had ever seen a strixiki before me, other than wild rumours of 'lizard-like outlanders'.
As inconcivable as these people seemed to me, so am I to them - and unfortunately, the majority of them did not respond well to the surprise. Many are terrified by my size and appearance, even considering me a monster. I have no grudge toward them: How else would they respond upon first contact with a creature so different - and much stronger - than them? But they have made my mission difficult, barring me entrance to settlements and at times attacking me unprovoked. The few who were tolerant demanded endless explanations of my existence.
This, compared to the overall chaos of the realm, is the reason that this week is the first in my two-year expedition when I managed to find safety, proper rest, paper and pen at the same time for long enough to compose a letter. Unfortunately, it will also take me a while to find a messanger to carry it to Your Brightness, so expect some of the information I'm relying here to be outdated by the time you read it.

- The Baron of Liffe was startled to see me at first, but quickly reinstated himself and got straight to buissness. Then stayed there for quite a while. He seemed to think we are to negotiate every aspect of the future treaty during that first meeting, and I felt uncomfortable to refuse - though of course I've clarified I'm unqualified to make official decisions on your behalf. I could swear we conversed for a year, though the clock outside his study had shown I was there only for ten minutes.

- A little (well, a lot) to the south, I found a tiny island full of crows. It was inhabited by one woman, who was strange but very nice. She sounded like a scholar of some sort, and suggested to help find a cure for The Chosen's Curse if I help her find her name, which she'd forgotten. We struck a deal, but honestly, I have no idea how to go about my side of it. Two years later and I still don't have a clue. What a shame.

- The Hazlani people, short and copper-skinned, were refreshingly unimpressed by my appearance, as if they'd seen weirder. Their ruler, Archmage Eleni, was endlessly curious about strixikikind - so curious, in fact, she wanted to dissect me for anatomical research! Needless to say, I eldrich blasted her to the other end of the room

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and ran away screaming.

- I did not visit Count Strahd of Barovia, on account of every single local who was willing to talk to me warning that he's the devil incarnate and those who enter his castle do not return. Knowing this mission depends on my survival, I didn't want to take such a risk.

- My introduction to Nova Vassa's Council of Lords had resulted - by accident and through little to no fault of my own - in the destruction of the prince's palace (luckily, not the one he usually uses), death or injury of several noblemen and a monster hunter being sent after me. Fortunately, I managed to explain the situation to said hunter

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should I mention George, or would that complicate things?

- From there I preceeded, alongside my new companion, to cross the mountain range named 'The Mountains of Misery'.

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It truly was a misery to climb that incline!

My companion was not a young man, but he was accustomed to travel and fared far better than I had. I could never survive that part of the journey without his knowledge of navigation - or of dealing with the fey and undead that preyed on us at night. He wasn't very talkative, but it suited me: I did not know any of the local languages yet, and conversation meant wasting my precious spell-slots.

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I wouldn't refuse some more of those...

Our few conversations were short, and concerned with the path, the state of food and supplies and the wonders and dangers we might encounter next.
- The wizard-king of Darkon, the next country we visited, was rumoured to be missing - and honestly, after the incident in Hazlan, I admit I was glad to not have to face another mage. I had dangers enough for now.
My companion, however, hadn't. In more than one of the villages we passed through, the locals facing some sort of a supernatural threat. To my surprise, the hunter didn't even wait to get hired before starting to investigate. This seemed to be a routine matter for him - to appear in a settlement, solve people's troubles there, then vanish. ('Like a brownie.' He chuckled when I pointed it out. 'An old, grumpy brownie. Never thought about this before.' When I asked what a brownie is, he shrugged and returned to his usual silence.) At first I assisted him in these expeditions only out of concern for the life of my only guide in this land; But learning how emotion manifests on the faces of strixikoid humans, I started recognizing the locals' expressions every time we returned - relief and gratitude. They paid my companion respects fit for a king - which he modestly rejected - and treated me a little less like a singing gelatinious cube. I quickly realised that if there was a way for a strange creature such as myself to earn a sufficient reputation for locals to consider me as a potential ally rather than a monster or a test subject, it was the path of the wandering hero.

- I regret to inform you that I had not seen much of Lamordia during our stay there, though it was quite long. My companion fell ill shortly after we arrived (The strixikoid mammals seem to be especially sensitive to the cold), and he insisted I should not live the inn unescorted in these regions: In Darkon, people were relatively used to different species coexisting and all that was required for them to accept a 'giant lizard' was a proof of my good will; This land, on the other hand, was populated solely by the species of strixikoid mammals he called 'humans' - the majority in this continent, and species he belonged to - who considered other sapient species freaks of nature. Recalling the incident in Hazlan, I asked if they'd want to dissect me - He answered there might be one man willing to go that far, but this wasn't his main concern. He was more worried about a group called 'The Syndicate of Enlightened Citizens', dedicated to the eradication of 'magical creatures', that apparently tried to hire him a few years ago. I'll try to gather more information regarding this society, which could pose a serious danger to our efforts.

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In these weeks of self-imposed imprisonment in The Breaking Wave, we had little to do but talk, and my silent companion finally opened up. He was a nobleman from a nearby realm, who ran off as a youth looking for adventure.
"I started hunting monsters because I wanted to restore my family to its former glory. When I grew older, and saw the true nature of darkness, I realised I can't even protect them - so I continued, but as a quest for vengence. Silly of me. Now, I do so because someone has to." He said one evening. "But I can't be that someone for long."
"You aren't dying, are you?" I asked frightfully, wishing I'd learned some healing spells.
"I hope not." He sighed. "But the bow grows heavier in my hands with every passing day, and the spirits of the forest haven't spoken to me in years. It's a nice journey we're having, Sarker, but it better be my last one. It's about time for me to come home - If I'm still wanted."
"And where would that be?" My fear gave way to curiousity. "Your home, I mean."
Then he spoke of his land, Mordent, describing every town and every tree.
"But of course," He finished, "You can come and see it yourself! It's only a few weeks to the south. Once I get rid of this damned fever, we'll head there. What do you think?"
"Will I be wanted there?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Some blokes might give you a funny look, but nothing worse. My nieces would love you, I think, even if they hate me." He shrugged. "Especially Genny."
"I'm looking forward to meet her." I smiled. If my companion has ties to the nobility, he might manage to get them to listen. Mordent would be the perfect opportunity to finally progress with the purpose of my expedition!
"Same for me." He nodded. "She can teach you things I cannot - these powers of you, she'd know more about that. Good wizard, she is. Wanted to be a hunter too when she was younger - was, for a while - but... I guess it's my fault. Someone had to lead the house after dad died, and I was to stubborn to come back, so she took the burden. I hope she doesn't hate me enough to deny another the opportunity I denied her."
The opportuny he denied her? He -
"Do you wish me to be a hunter?" I asked.
"Well, it's not like you have to." He shrugged. "There are others who'd take on my work, like I'd taken on it from my mentor. But you were a good asistant so far. I think you can be a good hunter if you wanted to."
I pondered on this a little.
And I found I wasn't even surprised to realize that yes, I wanted.

You might think this uneventful stay was the perfect time to start writing a report - which I had. The reasons you did not recieve it, Your Brightness, would be explained shortly.

- Once my companion was hale, we took a sleigh to Carlion-le-Duc, entering the (considerably warmer) domain of Dementlieu. My reputation preceeded me by this point, and locals seemed excited to meet 'the dragon-man from beyond the mists' (I tried to clarify that I am not a man, and that Ke'lehava is now part of the Nocturnal Sea, but nobody seemed to listen.), and in every town we traveled through I was invited to one social event or another. My companion wished to continue on our journey ASAP, but I refused - what better opportunity would I have to fullfil my duty as an embassador?

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Frankly, I was also relieved to finally have company. With all the respect to my companion, he was a highly introverted man, often distant and aloof. I have such a side too, but my more social side craved for a more talkative friend.

My companion understood, and volenteered to educate me on Dementlieuse society and politics. However, most of his teachings turned out to be more confusing than helpful: He confidently elaborated on noble houses the locals had no memory of, and was unaware - even denied the existence - of several of the most prominent figures in the realm. I thought his information was just outdated - he had spent the past few decades on the other side of the continent - but he insisted that some gaps simply make no sense, which I was forced to admit when many of the people he'd 'never heard of' claimed to know him well. He suspected either some nefarious force was at work - his more scholarly colleagues spoke occasionally on 'false history' and the like - or his own aging brain was becoming unreliable. I couldn't decide which option was worse: My beloved comrade losing his mind, or the existence of beings that can effectively steal the mind of whole countries.
However, I was beginning to fear I am the one losing fyre mind, starting to see flashes of geomerically-impossible shapes and a bleak wasteland with a red sun. At the end of one dinner party, while I was making my way through the empty streets of Port-A-Lucine, I found myself surrounded by strixikoid octupy. Now, after two year among strixikoid mammals I could accept just about any kind of creature - but the second a group of chattering girls crossed the street, the vision faded. I wasn't nearly as alarmed as I felt I was supposed to be: The chosen one's curse was going to claim me sooner or later, the question was how to manage it. I minimized the usage of my pact magic, and, noticing the hallucinations always appeared when I was alone, tried my best to surround myself with people. I considered telling my companion of this, but did not wish to burden him any more; And as for others, I made in Dementlieu many pleasant acquaintances, but no true friends with which I could share a personal struggle. Nor were they buisness partners: Many of them claimed a noble title of some sort, but most seemed to have no real understanding of what such position is supposed to entail beyond appearance.

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I reached the conclusion we're all mad here. Maybe that's where the place got its name from!

When I recieved an invitation to a masquerade hosted by the duchess D'Honaire - a major force in the city and one of the personalities my companion did not recognise - I hopped on the opportunity to investigate what in the first flame is going on here. My companion was worried he'd make an embarrassment of himself, but I reassured him that
1) He seems perfectly fine other than several specific memory gaps, and I tend to believe these are indeed caused by an outer factor, affecting the realm rather than himself.
2) Even if there is something wrong with his memory, no one would flaming notice! They'd be too busy looking at the 'dragon man'!
The ball started great and ended horribly. As this is a report and not an epic poem, I would not elaborate on the course of the fight; It suffices to say we crossed the duchess, and had to flee the capital ASAP jumping into the nearest patch of mist - thus we had no time to gather our belongings, including the original draft of this report.

- Falkovnia greeted us with blades to the throat - a response that felt twice as cruel after Dementlieu reminded me how it feels like to not be seen as a monster. However, I quickly got the impression that this is how all foreigners are treated in the domain. The gaurds demanded papers we didn't have, my companion got salty, one soldier threatened to impale us, I threatened to burn him, and we would've come to blows had the zombies not attacked first. Fighting side-by-side wasn't enough to turn us into best friends, but we developed enough cordiality for them to take us to their leader rather than kill us on spot.
Kingfurher Vlad Drakov wasn't in good shape when we met him. His limbs were musclar by strixiki standards and gigantic for a member of a smaller species, but shuddered with every movement. He could barely walk - though he refused to use any kind of mobility aids - and there was something odd about the corner of his mouth. He whispered his words for a female soldier named Vladeska

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(she seemed young enough to be named after him)

to translate his mumbling to us, which seemed to be the most frustrating part of the situation for him. I pitied him, a proud warrior reduced into a shadow of himself - and wondered if that's what would become of me when the curse was done with me. My companion, on the other hand, had no mercy for the man - he explained to me that Drakov was among the worst tyrants in the entire land of mists, though I failed to see why: He sounded no worse than Your Brightness.
The king ordered to throw us into the front lines (The capital had apparently been besieged by an army of undead for a while) - which my companion wouldn't hear of. A quick glimpse into his mind showed me that he wanted Falkovnia to fall, this much he hated the country. I mentally warned him that this attitude would get us killed tonight - either by Drakov or by the zombies - and excused his reluctance as a matter of health concerns, begging the king to not send into war an old man barely capable of lifting his sword (at which my companion rolled his eyes, but proceeded to play along.) I doubt this would have convinced Drakov, but Vladeska had apparently heard of my companion's long career as a hunter of the undead, and decided that he'd be of more use as a strategic advisor.

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He was tempted to feed them with misinformation. I confronted him on this, asking if he'd let the people die for their leader's sins. It... Wasn't a pleasant conversation.

In the aftermath of the battle, Vladeska and I discussed. I explained my mission. She explained she was the king's granddaughter, who grew up idolizing him - until she realised his faults. Drakov's policy had isolated Falkovnia from its neighbors, now leaving them to face the zombie attacks alone. But his days are numbered. Soon another - hopefully less obssessed - ruler would inherit him, and she stands a fair chance. She'd need allies as fierce as the dragons, and would offer in return 'everything we'd ask - in the limits of reason'. However, would that not put us against the rest of the Core? I answered we'd think about it, leaving the decision in your claws.

- I have no idea what the first flame happened in Borca. I burnt myself out in the siege of Lekar, and my sanity was quickly eroding. I think my companion tried to instruct me on the realm as he had previously, but I was too deep inside my broken mind to listen. I saw the octupus-people from the corner of my eyes now, heard them at the limits of my hearing, felt their tentacles pressing against my scales. I was too distracted to remember any of what happened around me. All I know is that one night, the nightmare became real.
The octupus-people came for us.
Both of us.
My memories of that night are blurry and contradictive. All I know for sure is that the next morning I woke up lucid for the first time in days, and painfully so; For I knew my companion was gone, and knew his blood was on my hands. Only one thing kept me going: The thought of his nieces. I must get to them, let them know what was his end.

- From there I headed to Mordent, where I currently reside. It's a relatively insignificant country, its population small and scatterred, but I doubt it would remain so for long. While the majority of the population is conservative and traditional, some - including Earl Gennifer Weathermay-Foxgrove, the current ruler - are determined to bring their land progress. It took me two days to get from Blackburn's Crossing to Mordentshire by carriage, but I was told by an excited barmaid that half a year from now the same journey would take less than two hours, thanks to a new invention called 'train'. As I inquired more about the latter (and observed the construction site from afar), it turned out to be an iron rail on which was supposed to run a steam-powered caravan (I'd try to find and attach a blueprint) - far less efficient than the portals we have back home, but considering strixikoid mammals' suspicion of arcane magic, I can understand why it would be seen as more reliable. (My carriage driver was less enthusiastic about 'the metal monster going to ravage our quiet homeland', considering it a sign of ill luck - which I attributed to the fact it's probably going to steal his job.
My that last part of my journey had been a melancholious one, but it was a melancholy of the good sort, the paradoxically-comforting one. The gloom of the woods suited that of my heart. I found myself fondly recalling my adventures and misadventures, pondering what I've learned. My heart still had a George-Weathermay-shaped-hole in it, but it was slowling growing around it. By the time I stood in front of Heather House's gates, I felt almost peaceful.
Lady Gennifer took the news of her uncle's apparent death with strange acceptance. It's been a long time since she had hope of seeing him again - a pre-known tragedy. She wasn't angry as he feared she'd be, but... Well, she sounded like he was already dead to her. However, she was hellbent on finding out the circumstances of his death - anything would be better than the uncertainty, she said. She asked to hear my story, and I told it, begginning to end, with some tears in the middle. She listened distantly, as if it was the tale of strangers - only when I spoke of his confession in Lamordia and his determination to come home did she finally weep. She called the octopus-people 'illithids', and said they might have kept my companion alive - though in what state is a frightening thought.
Heather House is teeming with life right now, inhabited by Lady Gennifer, her father, partner and children - as well as numerous guests of such variety that I didn't even feel special. The only person who seemed wary of me was the father, Mr. Foxgrove - and even he seemed to grudgingly accept me as another one of his daughter's shenanigans.

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Many of the guests were, not unlike me, young people who chose a heroic calling. Another one, Dr. Archibald, gave us daily lessons in battle magic until he left yesterday. Lady Gennifer's sister, Laurie, is supposed to arrive next week and train us in melee combat and monster-hunting strategy (I wonder if she heard the news by now). Lady Gennifer herself supervises our studies when she has the time to, which isn't very often.
The more I think about it, training as a monster-hunter makes more sense:
As things stand right now, the strixikoid are practically aliens to The Core, as unknowable and terrifying to them as the illithids are to us. Nearly every attempt on my side to act as an embassedor failed miserably, for the simple reason I was too mysterious to normally negotiate with. But by traveling around and proving myself as a hero, I can create a good impression regarding our kind and pave the road for the next diplomat.

No, not good enough - what if ze wouldn't accept my reasoning? What if ze sees through my excuses that I've tasted freedom and hate to give it up? Can ze curse me from afar? Or would ze hurt my clan? I can't take risks.

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But I'm afraid this was only a temporary respite.
They're coming for me again. I can hear them hissing, calling. They're everywhere. I won't let them hurt anyone but me this time! I'm afraid I must tell none, not even Your Brightness, where I'm going now, lest the letter be stolen. This would be a lonely quest, from which I do not expect to return, but it is the only choice, only way to not bring this threat into our beloved kingdonsvnrgekgeavljslfaaaaahhhhhhhh

Too dramatic, unbelievable. Even if they buy it, people might come to 'rescue' me. Something else.

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Unfortunately, I'm afraid my sanity is starting to slip away. Though my 'hallucinations' were apperantly largely illithid attacks, it does not mean my curse did not manifest in other ways. I'd rather not elaborate, as this is a very private matter. I'm aware of my surroundings just enough to realise that letting me perform any sort of an official role in my current condition is a terrible idea.
Do not worry for me: I'm taken care of well. I beg you to not send after me either: it would break my father's heart to see me this way. I hope I served you well over the past four years; All I ask in return is to be allowed to rest where I am.

Again, not good - ze might decide it's a waste of zir energy to keep granting me magic. Do I even want it? I don't know. But... Well, I saw plenty of Chosen Ones who kept working after the curse started getting to them. Folks who knew they were a little crazy, but didn't let it get in the way of serving the kingdom. But those who fully succumbed, who'd gone too far to be of use? We never heard from them again. I don't know for sure what happens to them, but do I want to find out?

.

- A draft by Sarker son of Torizen.
Had been gathering dust in fyre drawer for a month.


[Off-play:
- It took me a whole week to write this, so I hope you're enjoying.
- George's fate is intentionally left open-ended, so we can found out later whether he's dead, held captive by the mindflayers, turned into a mindflayer or something wackier.
- Similarly, I left Gennifer's family 'blank', so people who actually have headcanons about it or want to play her children can fill it in.
- Yes, the Mordentshire-BB train - and who doesn't want it to happen - is going to be a major plot line in the Mordent part of the story. I think it's a fun way of showing how technology in the core advances.
- If you think I'm breaking my own role with my portrayal of Gennifer, comment in private. I'm kinda struggling between not wanting to make her suck but also not wanting her to steal the show, but also not really knowing how she would canonically behave (I didn't any of the twins' Guides other than VRA yet). If anyone else wants to play her, take the reins.
- Text hidden by the 'spoiler' function represents sentences Sarker erased, viewing them too personal or improper for a formal report (or revealing fyre rebellious feelings).
- The format should be:
[*]In-world texts, the bulk of the roleplay:

In quotes.

[*]Notes on the text's whereabouts: normal.
[*]Off-play remarks or explanations: [In square parentheses.]