(Event Table rolls for this session included: The word 'bark', the word 'chase', a NPC event that involved a Vistani man she didn't know, and 1d6 (5) dire wolves.)
Trying to draw a wolf when I've never had to draw a wolf before.
I also rolled a "yes/no" dice after writing this out, just to see if the wolf she saw was Strahd or not. It was. So. Life is instantly difficult for her 10 minutes into entering Barovia again.
I'm lowkey mad at him because his wolf story is her favorite one unironically and now it's been turned on her.
This might be a very short game lol
Writing included below:
There was no time to process anything, because that was when I heard them. Wolves, loud and in the distance, but getting closer. Dire wolves, probably. Maybe four or five of them from the sound of it. Or maybe just one wolf mattered, wearing a shape that could tear me apart before I even knew which one he was.
Because of course Strahd hunts as a direwolf when he's bored. Of course he does. And if he knows exactly when I wake up each cycle, if he remembers while everyone else forgets, then he could be waiting for me. Any of those wolves could be him.
I ran. What else could I do? I had next to nothing to defend myself against a threat that strong. The trees seemed to reach for me as I ran, branches catching at my cloak and hair. The black pools of water that dotted the muddy road reflected only the swirling mist sky above, like the land itself was just as empty as I felt. That barking, snarling just kept getting louder, the mist felt like it was closing in completely.
Then I heard hoof beats.
A man, Vistani it seemed, burst through the fog on horseback, riding like all the devils of the abyss were behind him. His eyes were wild, terrified, and the only reason he slowed was my position in the middle of the road.
He cursed at me in Patterna.
I begged him to stop, my voice cracking on the words. He told me to get out of his way.
When I offered him five gold pieces to get me to town, to help a fellow Vistana before the wolves found me here... he hesitated.
With a nod, he let me pull up onto the chestnut horse behind him, cursing me the whole time. I wrapped my arms around his waist, then held on as he kicked the horse into a gallop, and we flew down that road like death itself was chasing us.
Maybe it was.
Those wolves chased after us for the entire hour's ride to Barovia's rusted gates. My arms ached, my legs cramped. I didn't care. I just held on and prayed that none of them had been him, that I would have a few days before Strahd hunted me in earnest.
The gates squealed in protest as they opened, welcoming us into the valley. I've passed into these very gates dozens of times. I know every bar, every stone. I know those worn stone faces laying on the ground, the very image of Strahd. I used to find them funny, in a dark way, at least.
We tore past the gates, then they slammed shut with a feeling of finality. I looked back over my shoulder, at the mists seeping through the bars, thick and hungry. I could see the wolves gathering. The largest, dark and foreboding, had climbed atop one of the toppled statue heads, and met my eyes. I swore, for a moment, they were red.
It’s hard to speak of Limsa Lominsa without broaching the subject of piracy. The city state started its life as a safe-port for the various pirate crews and fleets that troubled the seas around Eorzea and even beyond to places like Thavnair and (in rare cases) Kugane.
In the modern age they are the alliance’s de facto naval presence. No force in Eorzea can come close to matching the sheer number of vessels under the admiral’s command, save perhaps East Aldenard Trading. Their primary military force is the Maelstrom Grand Company, which combines the Knights of the Barracuda and conscripted pirates and adventurers. This lends a certain wildness to their tactics that makes the Maelstrom formidable in their unpredictability.
As a Thalassocracy, Limsa Lominsa is the governmental seat for coastal communities all over the Rhotano sea and La Noscea. The cultural hallmarks of construction and aesthetic are striking in their fusion of piratical practicality and stark beauty. Most communities are shining white, built from the white limestone and sandstone that makes up the cliffs of the local islands. Many locations, including Limsa herself, are built out over the open water on hoodoos and columns rising out of the water. The sight of the city stretched over dozens of trunk-like pillars and laced over with bridges has earned Limsa Lominsa the nickname The Navigator’s Veil.
I arrived by ferry early in the morning and had a full day to explore the city, quickly becoming lost in the thick knot of bridges and sky-ways. Ships hoisted from the water created make-shift buildings, while in other cases the hoodoos were carved hollow to form luxurious cave dwellings. Even as used to the desert sun as I am, though, I found that the glare of light off the white stone eventually started to make my head hurt and I took my wanderings inside.
Fortunately, several of the pillars are large enough to constitute entire neighborhoods or boroughs once hollowed out. I found myself exploring vast indoor marketplaces, guild halls, training areas, and plazas. All of these smelled wonderfully of the myriad spices on sale, fish, linseed oil, and salt. Even with the press of sweaty bodies, it was hard to find a corner of the city that was not a bouquet of pleasant aromas.
My favorite phenomenon was the wave-talk. Some trick of the hollow stone pillars and the waves that beat on them continually created hallways that rumbled and roared with the sounds of the ocean. I could stand still and close my eyes and listen—and a less credulous mage might start to swear they could hear speech. Indeed, I almost felt the ocean talking to me in a language I could nearly understand. It was like I heard words that were just beyond the tip of my tongue, some ancient syntax studied as a child and since long forgotten. It reminded me of the wind sweeping through the trees of the Shroud in that sense.
I registered my name as a visitor with the Arcanist’s guild and purchased a few books for study, but did not have time to do much more than watch a handful of students practicing arcanima. Loathe as I am to pass on seeing forms of magic I’ve not played with, I have a job to do. I’ve been asked to track and slay a Goobbue causing trouble for some vineyards east of Limsa, so in the afternoon I loaded Telemachus’ saddle bags with fresh supplies bought in the port and set off on the road.
Personal entry: Sea travel must be one of Hells used to punish the sinful. I had to walk as much to steady my own stomach as to sate my curiosity. An apothecary recognized my green gills when I stepped off the boat and sold me some herbal gum to chew for what I suspect was entirely too much money. Flipping hells, if I hadn’t been about to lose my breakfast, I might not have paid.
I’ve received a call on my link pearl asking me to travel back to Ishgard with all haste. I am to join a handful of other Drakes in investigating something in the Brume. Apparently there are deaths among the refugee population. I said yes, of course. I wouldn’t be able to look mama and papa in the eyes if I refused to help a fellow refugee. I’m going to try to purchase a ticket on an airship. Admiral Bloefhiswyn has supposedly relaxed travel restrictions on air travel.
I’m stuck in my head. The whole trip across Vylbrand I’ve had hardly a thought for anything but those refugees in Ishgard. It had been nearly a year before my family was allowed to live inside Ul’Dah’s walls and that was only once I’d won sponsorship to learn at the Ossuary. There are children I grew up with whose families still live in the tent city outside the Gate of Nald. I remember crime families taking advantage of those of us desperate for work and without the skills of an artisan. Papa stayed away by stroke of luck, but Didiru wasn’t so lucky. Her death still hurts even after four years. I only wish we’d found the body. Then at least I could have given her an honorable funeral.
I met my contact in Aleport after I took care of the Goobbue. There wasn’t much in the way of gil, but the man had a few good bottles of wine to sweeten the pot. I know naught of wine but the Roe waitress serving us seemed surprised by the vintage. I think I can bribe my way on to an airship with one.
If there was one thing that Evera had to admit, it was that she was tired. The more work she did on behalf of the Scions, the more it seemed she would need to come to terms with the fact that life was probably going to get no less exciting. Already it was more than she had ever anticipated when she had first set out. It didn’t seem like it would show any sign of letting up either, with little actual rest between each turn of events. Or so it felt.
It had yet to wear her down to the point that she couldn’t function, but she did feel a bit of the weight settling in on her shoulders. The dull ache near her right eye every time the Echo kicked in, as well. All she could hope was that it never dissuaded her. Even with everything that was going on, a small dream was being fulfilled. She could see Eorzea with her own eyes, and help those that needed it.
A smile graced the woman’s face from where she sat, atop one of the rocks just outside of Little Ala Mhigo. This was where her journey had carried her. To assist the refugees that the city-states had all but turned their backs to, that she could still help in her own capacity now. Even if it wasn’t much, yet. There were things she had to find out. Like what exactly this Lahabrea was up to. How dangerous were Ascians?
Reaching into her pack she would produce a journal and quill. While the setting wasn’t exactly the best for writing this was about as good as it would get for the evening. At the least she had the cooling desert air and a clear sky to keep her company. The rest of her work would wait until the morning, which gave her time to write a word or two. Maybe even pen a letter to home. Glancing over the last page or so of her own words, she would continue her entry.
‘I’ll admit that I have all but lost track of time. Life keeps moving so gauging the number of days that have passed seems difficult. I’m adrift from one event to the next, never knowing where the work will take me. Keeping busy hasn’t made it any less worthwhile. I live for the few smiles and words of gratitude I get from those I help. Usually it’s menial tasks….then again mostly it’s menial tasks. Yet they have yet to be without some form of reward.
It hasn’t all been easy. I haven’t been able to go through everything alone, either. Delving into catacombs, fighting off various types of beast or undead. It’s testing. I think I’m getting at least a little bit stronger, with each experience. But I have to ask myself, how far will this path take me. And how much worse will it get before it truly feels like it’s getting better. Twelve help me if I have to take on any giant angry diremites again anytime soon though. Especially if they’re tainted by dark magicks.’
Word came ‘round that Faye Covington ( @fair-fae ) had transformed the old Harbinger house into a teahouse of sorts; naturally, my own curiosity got the better of me, so I made my way back to those distantly familiar paths that eventually led me to the new Shroudrose Teahouse & Tavern.
I have to say that Faye and her compatriots did a wonderful job of transforming the old Harbinger house into something really quite lovely. Thanks to Raisan Arcmantle and his usual small army of helpers, the tea, service, and foodstuffs all proved to be sublime. Especially the Brownie Earthquake he concocted.
It was a pleasant evening with live entertainment from a rather talented bard. Most of it, though, I spent in conversation with Zhan’a Rakhin ( @yokasaris ) about The Chroniclers ( @chroniclers-rp ) upcoming move to Shirogane. At first, the miqo’te seemed quite hesitant, but after convincing him of the adventure and the new botanical samples we might find, I think he warmed up to the idea.
If only I could get Zhan’a to warm up to Karaan Nolan. Whatever feud exists between them continues unabated; each of them sniping and snarking at the other until one of them leaves the room in a huff. It worries me, especially now that we’re going to be abroad with no one but ourselves to rely on. We need each other, now more than ever, we can ill-afford to be so divided.
Perhaps that’s why I’ve taken it upon myself to work with Zhan’a more regularly, in order to help him feel included in the Company’s endeavours. He joined the Chroniclers for Irridias Velnyx and I, after all. It falls to us to ensure that he’s made welcome here and that he has things to do. That’s the point of a Free Company, isn’t it?
After a rather long airship ride, we now find ourselves on new and distant shores. Hingashi, Doma, Othard -- names and places I’ve only read about in books or heard of in passing conversations. Zhan’a and I took it upon ourselves to explore Kugane proper and see if we could find the market for some necessary supplies.
The more time I spend with Zhan’a, the more I like him. He has his quirks, to be sure, but there’s an underlying intelligence and cunning about him, a sort of street savvy that most of us would likely take for granted. Like haggling with one of the vendors in Kugane this evening, he made quite a show of it, but saved us a fair bit of gil.
Once we’d successfully purchased supplies for repairing the house Karaan found us in Shirogane, Zhan’a and I found some tasty food samples in a stall farther down the market lane. Food here is certainly different, though, I knew that already from visits with Saraj Malqir and my time at Ryuusei Tea Room ( @ryuuseitearoom ). It made for a nice, simple introduction to the new world we’ve found ourselves in, though. I look forward to getting to know this place even more.
I’m a bit at an impasse. Somehow after everything with Ifrit, my name has spread throughout the city-states to the point that I’m now urged to join one of the grand companies. Tataru’s to thank for that apparently. Only problem is they all want me, and none of that makes the decision any easier. This is a new problem to have so I’m definitely torn. With that in mind I was given a task, to take my time and make up my mind after attending each remembrance ceremony that the city-states are holding in order to honor those lost in the Calamity.
Each speech was filled with its own sort of passion befitting of their own lands. Something unique to stir each while still making mention to those lost. While not said outright by any city, the ceremonies also seemed to serve a purpose to rally the people. To stir them to be ready for action. I won’t lie that’s probably needed if just a bit of what they alluded to is to come to pass, from the Garleans, or beast tribes, or even within themselves. Still I can’t help but worry yet if more loss will be in store after what happened with the Amalj’aa already. If some form of conflict is inevitably on the horizon of another shape that will actually require those who rally to the cause.
It feels like there’s a lot that could happen at any point when taking all three cities into account. This choice would also be easier on me if one of them had what seemed like a higher need than the rest. Yet all of them could stand for even a little help from an adventurer like myself. Well, that’s not to say that my presence would turn the tide of anything. Each ceremony helped me to at least understand the plight of the land a little better even if it didn’t make the decision I’m faced with easier.
There’s no question in my heart that I was right in my choice to become an adventurer, like countless others have before me. Yet there’s only so much one person can do in this world, right? I suppose I have to start somewhere. As such, I’m thinking to cast my lot with the Immortal Flames. Ul’dah is where I started this adventure and it is somewhere that I can see myself lending a hand to the most. It’s the place I chose the beginning at so I’m at least a little invested. That and with my training I’m all but guaranteed to return on occasion. It’s not like I can’t pay visit to the others as the need arises either. Adventuring could, quite possibly, take me anywhere.
Somehow… somehow I made it through. The latest mission turned out to be a difficult one, with an ambush lying in our wait. I wasn’t sure quite what to think when the sleep spell was cast and myself and the other survivors spirited away to the Amalj’aa lair. To watch them summon their primal god and see him bend the wills of other men before me. To somehow not be subject to the same. He...no it, blamed my soul belonging to another. To Hydaelyn if I had to wager a guess. Perhaps she truly does protect me with this power I’ve been granted? I don’t really understand even still what makes me special enough for such a thing.
At the least I have learned a few things about the threat I faced there. Primals, and how they’re summoned and sustained. Just how the Scions suspected it was the Amalj’aa behind much of the disappearances and crystal thefts. But with that...I learned how lucky I was to resist the will of Ifrit. How the fate of those who he tainted was sealed the moment he had. It gives me a heavy feeling. If only it could be prevented from happening to anyone.
There were numerous losses on this day. While the primal was slain for now, the cost was great. Those who lost their lives in battle. Those who lost their will and sense of selves to the primal as well. The tempered, as it were. Fate I dodged due to this “echo” they keep saying I have. The lives of those tempered men, to my understanding, are as good as lost. Forfeit, left only for execution. If I had fallen my fate would have been the same. That’s not an easy pill to swallow yet I’m glad that I was told of it. May I hope that I never experience such a thing firsthand and have the blessing keeping me safe fail.
Yet, if only what had transpired on this day could have been prevented. If only I were stronger. I’m thankful for the help that did arrive though, and getting there when it had. Yet still, to return to Camp Drybone and see the dead...the sacrifices for the mission and its success. It weighs on me, even if I did not know them. They’ll never return home again. Families have been left behind on this day. Is this the fate that one day awaits me as well in this lust for adventuring, the brushes with danger that I manage to survive for better or for worse?
Things have been busy since I got myself started out in Ul’dah. I’ve managed to find a number of people to help out, slowly building experience as I go. Most of the tasks have been trivial yet there have been a few that are getting me some bit of recognition as an adventurer, even between the three city-states. It must mean I'm doing something right? I don’t feel like I quite understand everything that’s going on, but I seem to be doing alright for the most part.
I'm finding a lot of enjoyment out of what I've been doing so far but there are a couple of things that have happened that have me confused. They've just been not normal and ideally I'd like to chalk it up to being some sort of aether sickness yet at the same time that isn't quite right. If that makes any sense?
The first time it happened it was like I had been taken elsewhere entirely yet had fallen asleep. Others like a memory yet not my own. Either I'd attribute to dreams yet it felt too real. And that there's more to everything than I might understand. Not to mention I had no control over it happening.
Then there were the instances of voidsent summoning during some jobs… that Ascian mage behind them… somehow gathering crystals through those sorts of deeds. And then there's the recruitment to the Scions because of those visions and my knack of finding myself tied up in these issues. I'm not quite sure how this all has come to happen but it's not like it goes against why I originally left home.
We'll see where this road carries me. And hope I'm not in too far over my head. It's not like anything major has happened at least?
