Prologue

Jun 8, 2024 1:19 pm
GM
Low Country, 890 AF
It is the Festival of the Maiden in the Moon, which happens every three years on the thirteenth full moon. You are at the Temple of the Moon, an outside amphitheater of stone. Semicircular seats are carved into a low hill facing a stage built into the shallow valley of that hill. Statues of women dancing are placed in front of fluted columns holding arches that mark the perimeter of the temple. The sun has set and the moon, Tarterus, sits halfway to its zenith. Flickering torches on the columns add warm oranges to the bright silver light of the moon. Six initiates, six priestesses, and the head priestess, called the Daughters of the Moon, stand upon the stage in sheer white robes that are near translucent in the moon's light. It is the first act of the play Moon Maiden's Delight. Sacred incense has been lit in several censors swung by young boys who discreetly run in front and behind the stage, holding their breath not to breathe in the psychedelic herbs.

Just as act two is starting, the moon disappears as if in eclipse. The women suddenly go rigid and their mouths hang slack. They levitate several feet up in the air to the gasps of onlookers. Bright white light floods out of their bodies, making visible their bones. Their mouths and eyes are beacons of light. In one voice they chant:

"The Shadow falls and taints all that it touches.
Magic itself corrupts and unravels.
Seek the Words of Creation or suffer oblivion.
Drowning in riches, lines read in a folio of folly.
Profaned altar of an aqueous god, bloodily revealed.
Freedoms shackled, secrets tattooed upon the flesh.
Choked by fog, a mural viewed in drug-addled dreams.
Plague-ridden First City, sky rocks floating over ruins.
On the scarred peninsula, a grand boss can open the way.
Forged in the Crucible, a champion’s reward.
Among the wonders, the mad memories of a clockwork.
In the Witch-King’s tower, the final word is profane."



Then they let out a shriek and the light goes bright enough to blind. All audience members cover their ears and close their eyes against the assault. Suddenly, silence. Darkness. With blurred vision and ringing ears you look upon the stage. Nothing remains of the Daughters of the Moon except piles of discarded robes. Mothers, daughters, sisters, wives, and lovers--thirteen vanished. Friends and family rush the stage to clutch at the garments and weep and wail. A thousand questions and no answers.

The next day a town meeting is convened and several villagers have been tasked with finding answers to what happened that night. The town pools together what resources it can spare, a few weapons and pieces of armor, as well as some horses and 26 silver shillings. Hugs, handshakes, salutes, and bows are given in farewell.
OOC:
Please post your reaction to the events on that fateful night. Introduce your character and why they volunteered/were chosen to go on this adventure. Lastly, everyone tell at least one difficulty you faced on the road from Low Country to Kem, and how another character helped.
Jun 9, 2024 2:58 pm
https://i.imgur.com/Og8NnRj.jpeg
Jun 10, 2024 9:54 am
It was one of the Maiden’s own daughters who had dragged Hargrac kicking and screaming from the orc slave pits. He was ready to die that day, hammer in hand, once he had been freed from his crate. He wouldn’t go back to fighting spiders, goblins and worse deep underground for orcish amusement!

He had almost lain the priestess low in his bloodlust, when she put a hand to his shoulder to tell him that her band had dispatched the final foes, and that he was free to accompany them back to the surface. He and several others.

For Hargrac, it was a matter of a debt being owed. Not that he didn’t want to seek out what had happened to the Daughters. Of course he did. It just so happened that the Honored Dead compelled him to seek out those responsible also. An eternal tally was being kept, and Hagrac was duty bound to contribute, or find his doom doing so!

Hagrac’s arse ached from the days of riding. He was no cavalry man and had time not been of the essence, he’d have happier walked the way, rather than wrestling a horse into submission each morning anew.

Unhappily, he took the advice of the goblins; supposing they had great experience in riding their wolves, spiders and other rough beasts. Morning, noon and night, the dwarf administered crushed petals and soil to his arse and thighs to ease the saddle sores; thankful for the goblins’… medicinal know-how.
OOC:
I hope that sets the tone!
Jun 10, 2024 8:31 pm
Thedore couldn't give a rats ass about the festival or the play. But festivals brought people. People with loose purse string, or at least they would be with but a snip of Theo's knife.

The "disappearing act" would have been a great distraction, if he had been ready for it. Instead, as luck would have it, he was holding on to Sergeant Puff of the city watch when it happened. And as luck would also have it, the sergeant shook off the disorientation faster than Theo.

By the time he had the time to react, Theo had a meaty fist around his neck. Wouldn't be the first time, and he figured he could turn to a cat and disappear in the dead of night. Take what remains of his family and start over in a new city.

Lady luck abandoned him a third time when he found himself in a cell without a window. Just a few cracks barely big enough for a small rat. The next morning he was given a choice, help in the search or forgo his hand then and there. It was an easy choice Theo thought. In the meantime the sergeant would hold his sister as collateral.
Jun 11, 2024 7:26 am
Strange stink off that one… Hargrac couldn’t help but think, anytime this Brogan came within reach of the dwarf.

Naught smelled a stink like it…

The thing puzzled the dwarf, as he tried to place the oddness of it as they travelled on the road together.

It wouldn’t be long until he found out what it was…
Jun 11, 2024 8:12 pm
OOC:
Please post your reaction to the events on that fateful night. Introduce your character and why they volunteered/were chosen to go on this adventure. Lastly, everyone tell at least one difficulty you faced on the road from Low Country to Kem, and how another character helped.
"You have to help us!" the goblin begged.

"Why? Why should I involve myself with those sanctimonious women?" Fingas sneered.

It took time, but the goblin women who worked at the temple - not priestesses proper, but servants and friends, convinced Fingas to help. He demanded future favors and immediate pleasure. But in the end, his help in investigating their disappearances was secured. He would represent the goblin people. And he had two "friends" to bring along. One was actually a friend - a goblin turned human - and the other a captive - a human turned goblin. The curse he had placed on the thief to turn him into a goblin would ensure he - or she - would get the full experience of goblin life. And part of goblin life is that goblins help other goblins, for no one else will. As such, he ensured she would always be near him during this excursion to find the missing Maidens.

Of course, the city didn't want goblins to help. Who would ever let a goblin help?

It was Hargac that convinced the guard to let them join. His close connection to the priestesses and the help they had given him in the ride to the city was enough to secure his own words to the guards. They were here to help, just like he was.
Jun 12, 2024 10:54 am
Wren had never been a nice guy. He was plain and unremarkable, the son of grooms who lived a humble lifestyle in the Low Country. But Wren had ambition. He craved more. Power, wealth, respect. So he left home as soon as he could and sought out membership in a local thieves' guild. He gained a reputation as a thug and a ne'er-do-well, delighting in the rough-and-tumble tasks the guild assigned to him.

It was on one such task a few weeks ago that his life was forever altered. A goblin merchant had come to town, an ouphe named Nugget, and the guild sent Wren to shake her down for protection money. The damned goblin was stubborn, and Wren's verbal threats soon turned to physical violence in an attempt to get her to break. But her cries for help attracted the attention of another goblin nearby, this one a magician of ill repute named Fingas. Fingas decided to punish Wren by placing a curse upon him.

But the curse proved more powerful than any of them expected. Wren's soul was forcibly ripped out of his body and placed into Nugget's, while the goblin merchant took possession of his own human body. Wren was shocked and horrified to find himself trapped in a shorter, weaker, and uncomfortably curvier form. Meanwhile, Nugget seemed delighted by the change.

The curse would not be easily lifted. Fingas's magic further compelled Wren to stay by the mage's side to get the full experience of life as a goblin woman. The mage gave Wren a new name: Butterfly, in mockery of her forced metamorphosis. And thus, as Fingas set off to uncover the mystery of the missing Maidens, Butterfly grudgingly followed in his wake.
The road to Kem was fraught with difficulty as Butterfly struggled to adjust to her new body. Aside from being half the height of her previous form, her center of gravity was completely different, and the way she moved felt alien and uncomfortable. Nugget laughed at her, but also offered advice on how to move and fight more effectively. By the time the group neared Kem, Butterfly had become proficient, if by no means comfortable. This was going to be a long quest...

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