Enter Yourself
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
Option 1: 4 Votes (57% - Range: 1-57)
Option 2: 1 Vote (14% - Range: 58-71)
Option 3: 2 Votes (29% - Range: 72-100)
Fae Roll: 60
"...Wait, you're going? Wouldn't it be smarter to just send Stalna?" Embryx asks as you prepare to move on.
She's right - your fae affliction is rearing its ugly head yet again, and you hadn't even noticed. At least the stakes seem rather low this time, but you can't help but feel a dread pool in the pit of your stomach as you can't regain your volition. Corrinth's mewling cries for home and it's long-lost familiarity ring in your memory like a warning bell.
"...Yeah, I know," is all you can reply before heading out of the trees and joining the path near the entrance of town, stuffing down your fears beneath a complacent facade. As your allies fade into the shadows behind the trees, you're almost certain you can hear them whispering and gossiping about you... Embryx and the lot have likely turned to Seith to ask him what his cleansing rituals would entail, and how your mind could be restored to normal. You silently resent it, wishing that they would simply wait until you're present to discuss your future. But if you're neither present nor future, then you must be past - like Kulka!
You nearly break into a fit of laughter, and struggle to tamp it back down. You miss when this was funny, and when you thought that Embryx' love would somehow see you through. But no, you're damaged, now - and seemingly getting worse as time goes on. You begin to wonder about the distinctions between common and fae magic, and whether or not becoming too familiar with the latter would damage your mind further. Just as your worst side emerges the more you indulge in dark magic, maybe your extensive use of teleportation is also jumbling up your mind. ...Or maybe that's not how it works at all.
Regardless, even if you don't turn into a miserable, incoherent lunatic like the changeling did, you can easily see how your life might begin to unravel based on a dumb decision here and there, or a poorly-timed laugh in the wrong place, at the wrong time... And speaking of which, you absolutely, positively can't laugh while in mixed company here. The coven may overlook your affliction, but commoners won't - and the worst thing you can imagine right now is accidentally exposing another circle because you can't stop cackling at idiotic wordplay in your inner monologue.
You huff in frustration. Regardless of how you feel about your allies' gossip, it's not until you're well within the perimeter of Afaeanon, and within sight of a number of locals who are in the midst of their evening chores, before you even feel capable of changing your mind. Of course, it's a moot point; now that you're standing here, it's too late to turn around and scamper back into the woods - you have to make the best of this.
You look around at the nearby buildings and find them quite elven. The structures are coiled around tall trees, many of which still holding their leaves despite the snow, or else adorned with needles like the hardier sort found in the north. Covered bridges connect many of these structures together, and candles and sconces flickering in the window give the town a strangely festive appearance, even in the quiet and cold. However, you can't make sense of any particular building's purpose from appearances alone - one that you first suspect is a tavern actually proves to be a large, single-family dwelling - perhaps for a noble.
Dejectedly, you search for any signage which can help you make sense of this place, only to be confronted by an older elven woman who approaches you unprovoked.
"Are you lost, tabaxi?" she asks in a voice which doesn't seem friendly.
You nod. "I'm looking for a traveler's inn," you reply in a clear voice, making it clear that you're an Imperial.
"I know the innkeeper; he doesn't serve your kind," she replies, indifferently. "Merchants and tradespeople have been warned not to travel at night. If you have to sleep on the road, it's your own fault."
Your lip curls. "Oh," you reply, unimpressed, as she turns and walks off with an air of self-importance. You resist the urge to follow her, but then contend with the thought of doing so, just for the satisfaction of putting an abstract fear in her mind. You rub your face, trying to massage the smile out of your cheeks until you feel a little less like a threat. Remember, you're just a normal tabaxi... You remind yourself. No more stupid ideas...
You push on, deciding that if there's a tavern - even if it's the same story as the inn - you can enter under the guise of looking for someone. You could then drop a hint that only your coven sisters would recognize, and leave. It takes time, but after another quarter of an hour or so, you chance upon a more ground-based structure that smells strongly of ale and baked goods. You realize that inns won't carry the same smells in this country without meat cooking in the pot, and give another sigh. You've been here less than a day and you already dislike Sonnamille more than you had expected.
Through the doors, you find the establishment to be rather small and unimpressive. A talented musician sits plucking on a lyre in the corner, while a bar maiden cleans up after the busiest point of the night. Only the elderly, nightly customers remain here, aside from a portly young man who might be the tavern's keeper, and another cloaked woman near the edge of the room who's nursing a late meal. If there's anyone here who'd be a witch, you'd assume the latter, but nonetheless you stick to your plan - especially since the barmaid is looking at you with alarm while trying to get the young man's attention.
"...Good evening," you say to the two of them.
The bar maiden stiffens up, answering you uncomfortably. "Can I help you?" she replies, indignantly. The young man, you now notice, is armed with a dagger in his belt, and as he turns around he practically freezes in place. You can almost sense the temptation in his eyes to reach for his knife. This is utterly ridiculous, you think.
You shake your head. "Not likely. I was looking for someone, but I don't think she's here," you say.
"Who?" the man asks.
You glance to the cloaked woman and see her just as uncomfortable as everyone else. The lyre player has even stopped making music. Not good. "...I'm looking for my sister," you reply.
"We haven't seen any others like you," the man replies, letting his hand rest on the table again. "...Not here, and not in Afaeanon."
His tone isn't as harsh as you would've expected. You begin to wonder if the elves have some legitimate reason for fearing the tabaxi, beyond simple hatred of the invaders from Chasamein. Maybe the tabaxi of the south sent spies and assassins deep into the country to drive up fear and paranoia? You don't know much about the war that plagued this nation; perhaps it's been worse than you previously assumed. "...I was following her to Ellifarre but we were separated; I assumed she would've stopped at the first town along the way, but I suppose not. If she comes here after me, tell her that Kulka and I have gone to meet with Callypseae."
The man nods. "Very well," he says. The others in the bar stay silent and simply watch you leave. Only after you've left the building entirely do you hear the muffled sound of music resuming. Greatly annoyed, you walk over to a nearby signpost and study it for a moment, hoping it will point to the roadway south, so you can reorient yourself. At this point, if a witch doesn't find you quickly and begin sorting this situation out, you might have to disappoint Kulka and take your anger out on the next elf to look down their nose at you.
A few minutes later, the cloaked woman and the musician leave the tavern together. As you watch from a distance, they bid each other goodnight before going their separate ways. Your heart falls as you realize neither is coming to greet you. Lastly, the bar maiden appears with an empty bucket and walks over to a well to draw some out. When she sees you, she doesn't quite react beyond an uncomfortable hesitation, but then walks right up to you.
"...It's a long walk to Ellifarre, sister. There's a home at the south side of town where you might be welcomed tonight. The owner is a fae hunter. She's placed a bough of holly over the entrance."
You're pleasantly surprised, although the fact that this possible sister is also a fae hunter is deeply concerning. Nearly half of your party is fae-touched, and Corrinth is stark raving mad. You have a strong suspicion that this isn't going to work, but you don't have much choice.
1. Roll the Dice - "Thank you, sister," you say quietly. As the bar maiden gives a quick bow and hurries away, you decide to pay the likely circle elder a visit and argue your case. If worst comes to worst, you could simply twist her arm for the night... Regardless, once you've sorted things out with the local elder, you can go back and get your party.
2. Take No Chances - "...I've come from Thandan," you reply flatly the moment you're certain that the bar maiden is a member of the coven, "and If that doesn't tell you who I am, then ask your elder. Tell her I'm coming with a party of six others, including a changeling, and that drow that's been killing for fun. Either we pass through without trouble, or you deal with all of us tonight," you warn as she stares at you in shock. "...Go!" you urge her.
Option 2: 1 Vote (14% - Range: 58-71)
Option 3: 2 Votes (29% - Range: 72-100)
Fae Roll: 60
"...Wait, you're going? Wouldn't it be smarter to just send Stalna?" Embryx asks as you prepare to move on.
She's right - your fae affliction is rearing its ugly head yet again, and you hadn't even noticed. At least the stakes seem rather low this time, but you can't help but feel a dread pool in the pit of your stomach as you can't regain your volition. Corrinth's mewling cries for home and it's long-lost familiarity ring in your memory like a warning bell.
"...Yeah, I know," is all you can reply before heading out of the trees and joining the path near the entrance of town, stuffing down your fears beneath a complacent facade. As your allies fade into the shadows behind the trees, you're almost certain you can hear them whispering and gossiping about you... Embryx and the lot have likely turned to Seith to ask him what his cleansing rituals would entail, and how your mind could be restored to normal. You silently resent it, wishing that they would simply wait until you're present to discuss your future. But if you're neither present nor future, then you must be past - like Kulka!
You nearly break into a fit of laughter, and struggle to tamp it back down. You miss when this was funny, and when you thought that Embryx' love would somehow see you through. But no, you're damaged, now - and seemingly getting worse as time goes on. You begin to wonder about the distinctions between common and fae magic, and whether or not becoming too familiar with the latter would damage your mind further. Just as your worst side emerges the more you indulge in dark magic, maybe your extensive use of teleportation is also jumbling up your mind. ...Or maybe that's not how it works at all.
Regardless, even if you don't turn into a miserable, incoherent lunatic like the changeling did, you can easily see how your life might begin to unravel based on a dumb decision here and there, or a poorly-timed laugh in the wrong place, at the wrong time... And speaking of which, you absolutely, positively can't laugh while in mixed company here. The coven may overlook your affliction, but commoners won't - and the worst thing you can imagine right now is accidentally exposing another circle because you can't stop cackling at idiotic wordplay in your inner monologue.
You huff in frustration. Regardless of how you feel about your allies' gossip, it's not until you're well within the perimeter of Afaeanon, and within sight of a number of locals who are in the midst of their evening chores, before you even feel capable of changing your mind. Of course, it's a moot point; now that you're standing here, it's too late to turn around and scamper back into the woods - you have to make the best of this.
You look around at the nearby buildings and find them quite elven. The structures are coiled around tall trees, many of which still holding their leaves despite the snow, or else adorned with needles like the hardier sort found in the north. Covered bridges connect many of these structures together, and candles and sconces flickering in the window give the town a strangely festive appearance, even in the quiet and cold. However, you can't make sense of any particular building's purpose from appearances alone - one that you first suspect is a tavern actually proves to be a large, single-family dwelling - perhaps for a noble.
Dejectedly, you search for any signage which can help you make sense of this place, only to be confronted by an older elven woman who approaches you unprovoked.
"Are you lost, tabaxi?" she asks in a voice which doesn't seem friendly.
You nod. "I'm looking for a traveler's inn," you reply in a clear voice, making it clear that you're an Imperial.
"I know the innkeeper; he doesn't serve your kind," she replies, indifferently. "Merchants and tradespeople have been warned not to travel at night. If you have to sleep on the road, it's your own fault."
Your lip curls. "Oh," you reply, unimpressed, as she turns and walks off with an air of self-importance. You resist the urge to follow her, but then contend with the thought of doing so, just for the satisfaction of putting an abstract fear in her mind. You rub your face, trying to massage the smile out of your cheeks until you feel a little less like a threat. Remember, you're just a normal tabaxi... You remind yourself. No more stupid ideas...
You push on, deciding that if there's a tavern - even if it's the same story as the inn - you can enter under the guise of looking for someone. You could then drop a hint that only your coven sisters would recognize, and leave. It takes time, but after another quarter of an hour or so, you chance upon a more ground-based structure that smells strongly of ale and baked goods. You realize that inns won't carry the same smells in this country without meat cooking in the pot, and give another sigh. You've been here less than a day and you already dislike Sonnamille more than you had expected.
Through the doors, you find the establishment to be rather small and unimpressive. A talented musician sits plucking on a lyre in the corner, while a bar maiden cleans up after the busiest point of the night. Only the elderly, nightly customers remain here, aside from a portly young man who might be the tavern's keeper, and another cloaked woman near the edge of the room who's nursing a late meal. If there's anyone here who'd be a witch, you'd assume the latter, but nonetheless you stick to your plan - especially since the barmaid is looking at you with alarm while trying to get the young man's attention.
"...Good evening," you say to the two of them.
The bar maiden stiffens up, answering you uncomfortably. "Can I help you?" she replies, indignantly. The young man, you now notice, is armed with a dagger in his belt, and as he turns around he practically freezes in place. You can almost sense the temptation in his eyes to reach for his knife. This is utterly ridiculous, you think.
You shake your head. "Not likely. I was looking for someone, but I don't think she's here," you say.
"Who?" the man asks.
You glance to the cloaked woman and see her just as uncomfortable as everyone else. The lyre player has even stopped making music. Not good. "...I'm looking for my sister," you reply.
"We haven't seen any others like you," the man replies, letting his hand rest on the table again. "...Not here, and not in Afaeanon."
His tone isn't as harsh as you would've expected. You begin to wonder if the elves have some legitimate reason for fearing the tabaxi, beyond simple hatred of the invaders from Chasamein. Maybe the tabaxi of the south sent spies and assassins deep into the country to drive up fear and paranoia? You don't know much about the war that plagued this nation; perhaps it's been worse than you previously assumed. "...I was following her to Ellifarre but we were separated; I assumed she would've stopped at the first town along the way, but I suppose not. If she comes here after me, tell her that Kulka and I have gone to meet with Callypseae."
The man nods. "Very well," he says. The others in the bar stay silent and simply watch you leave. Only after you've left the building entirely do you hear the muffled sound of music resuming. Greatly annoyed, you walk over to a nearby signpost and study it for a moment, hoping it will point to the roadway south, so you can reorient yourself. At this point, if a witch doesn't find you quickly and begin sorting this situation out, you might have to disappoint Kulka and take your anger out on the next elf to look down their nose at you.
A few minutes later, the cloaked woman and the musician leave the tavern together. As you watch from a distance, they bid each other goodnight before going their separate ways. Your heart falls as you realize neither is coming to greet you. Lastly, the bar maiden appears with an empty bucket and walks over to a well to draw some out. When she sees you, she doesn't quite react beyond an uncomfortable hesitation, but then walks right up to you.
"...It's a long walk to Ellifarre, sister. There's a home at the south side of town where you might be welcomed tonight. The owner is a fae hunter. She's placed a bough of holly over the entrance."
You're pleasantly surprised, although the fact that this possible sister is also a fae hunter is deeply concerning. Nearly half of your party is fae-touched, and Corrinth is stark raving mad. You have a strong suspicion that this isn't going to work, but you don't have much choice.
1. Roll the Dice - "Thank you, sister," you say quietly. As the bar maiden gives a quick bow and hurries away, you decide to pay the likely circle elder a visit and argue your case. If worst comes to worst, you could simply twist her arm for the night... Regardless, once you've sorted things out with the local elder, you can go back and get your party.
2. Take No Chances - "...I've come from Thandan," you reply flatly the moment you're certain that the bar maiden is a member of the coven, "and If that doesn't tell you who I am, then ask your elder. Tell her I'm coming with a party of six others, including a changeling, and that drow that's been killing for fun. Either we pass through without trouble, or you deal with all of us tonight," you warn as she stares at you in shock. "...Go!" you urge her.
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