Lochar
God of Storytellers
and now is. What is, shall never be.
Five people. Some friends or acquaintances. Some of you having met for the first time for this game.
A few snacks had been laid out, drinks ready to go. Barbara Cassock, a woman that looked just barely thirty, with long brown hair pulled over her shoulder, smiled at the five of you, her eyes dark with thoughts of the game she was about to Storytell for.
"Everyone is ready? Everyone has accepted the quest? Three hundred years prior to the breaking of the Jade Prison, four Solars and a Lunar find themselves brought together."
It may be a trick of the eye, but something seems to weigh upon the room as she speaks.
"To set the mood, and don't quibble editions with me." Barbara begins. "Before there was a World of Darkness. Before Luna was forced to abandon the Silver Chair, and the maidens to rupture the Firmament, casting their stars away."
Her words have a ring to them that holds you all spellbound.
"Before Creation fell, the Pole of Darkness's hollow principles no longer able to rebuff the advance of the Wyld." A sorrow covered her face. "When Sol passed and the Daystar enraged itself, before even then."
Forget spellbound, you find yourselves physically frozen to your seats at her next words. "We walk the skeins of time, Exalted, with the purpose of stopping the destruction of Creation, by stopping the fall of the Scarlet Empress." An anima, a no shit, honest to god, Oh Fuck it's a Nocturnal Anima, begins to burn around her. She lifts a hand and six threads appear, one tied to her and one to each of you. "Twist upon yourself and weave into the Loom of Fate, dead the Incarnae Nox may be, but time is Calibration itself."
Something twists in each of you, and the world fades to gray, even as her voice goes on.
"Nox is dead, long live the Bound God of the Loom! Weave anew the threads I offer, bound to Exaltation true. For the price of saving Creation, time parts and time begins anew!"
Something happens, and you find yourselves no longer sitting though you don't recall moving to a standing position.
In fact, you don't recall standing near a nearly dry stream in the wee hours of the morning, as stars begin to populate the dark night sky.
She who is your storyteller stands before you, her anima burning in all the changing animas of the Nocturnal. Even as she begins to speak, you see the work of pattern bite begin to burn across her body as damage accumulates from the pattern spiders attacking her thread. "You are half a day away from Black Branches to the North. Flee while you can! The Maidens know of my existence but not yours."
She falls to one knee, as wounds to the soul begin reflecting in her body.
In fact... What the hell just happened?
Five people. Some friends or acquaintances. Some of you having met for the first time for this game.
A few snacks had been laid out, drinks ready to go. Barbara Cassock, a woman that looked just barely thirty, with long brown hair pulled over her shoulder, smiled at the five of you, her eyes dark with thoughts of the game she was about to Storytell for.
"Everyone is ready? Everyone has accepted the quest? Three hundred years prior to the breaking of the Jade Prison, four Solars and a Lunar find themselves brought together."
It may be a trick of the eye, but something seems to weigh upon the room as she speaks.
"To set the mood, and don't quibble editions with me." Barbara begins. "Before there was a World of Darkness. Before Luna was forced to abandon the Silver Chair, and the maidens to rupture the Firmament, casting their stars away."
Her words have a ring to them that holds you all spellbound.
"Before Creation fell, the Pole of Darkness's hollow principles no longer able to rebuff the advance of the Wyld." A sorrow covered her face. "When Sol passed and the Daystar enraged itself, before even then."
Forget spellbound, you find yourselves physically frozen to your seats at her next words. "We walk the skeins of time, Exalted, with the purpose of stopping the destruction of Creation, by stopping the fall of the Scarlet Empress." An anima, a no shit, honest to god, Oh Fuck it's a Nocturnal Anima, begins to burn around her. She lifts a hand and six threads appear, one tied to her and one to each of you. "Twist upon yourself and weave into the Loom of Fate, dead the Incarnae Nox may be, but time is Calibration itself."
Something twists in each of you, and the world fades to gray, even as her voice goes on.
"Nox is dead, long live the Bound God of the Loom! Weave anew the threads I offer, bound to Exaltation true. For the price of saving Creation, time parts and time begins anew!"
Something happens, and you find yourselves no longer sitting though you don't recall moving to a standing position.
In fact, you don't recall standing near a nearly dry stream in the wee hours of the morning, as stars begin to populate the dark night sky.
She who is your storyteller stands before you, her anima burning in all the changing animas of the Nocturnal. Even as she begins to speak, you see the work of pattern bite begin to burn across her body as damage accumulates from the pattern spiders attacking her thread. "You are half a day away from Black Branches to the North. Flee while you can! The Maidens know of my existence but not yours."
She falls to one knee, as wounds to the soul begin reflecting in her body.
In fact... What the hell just happened?
