Post by Jaezred Vandree on Jun 5, 2023 18:37:15 GMT
The spider sits in the centre of his web. It is a carefully woven network of gossamer, silken threads, spun out of shadows and whispers, spanning across Kantas, Joran, and reaching beyond the borders of the Material Plane towards the Feywild.
Many listless nights were spent spinning the threads, finding anchor points, and creating connections. He knows that, likely, he does not have every single detail of every single event, but this is enough; for now, his work is as complete as it can be. The master weaver sits back in his chair and gazes upon his creation.
…This is absolute madness.
Lord Jaezred sighs and rests his face in his palms. He feels the now-thick fuzz on his jaw and thinks he really needs to pay Caphanis at the Whispering Blade Perfumery a visit — a stubble gives “ruggedly handsome”, but a full beard would make him look old.
He drops his hands and looks at the cork board before him once more. This conspiracy is intricate, complex, and ludicrous all at once, but what does it all mean?
Each location has a different “instigator” wearing the symbol as a pin and a different modus operandi. And their goal is to…isolate the Dawnlands? Distract the adventurers? Cause chaos?
The symbol. It’s being drawn everywhere as some kind of terror tactic. It was found in a chimaera’s nest within the enigmatic Temple of All Seasons. Was it the symbol of the Wild Hunt or something they adopted recently, like everyone else?
The Wild Hunt. An old legend coming back to haunt the Feywild. Why are the fey monarchs silent on this? Not even Queen Nicnevin, who tasked him with monitoring the situation, would tell him anything.
Matthias Prideborn was once a reclusive, kind, no-name businessman. Then suddenly he entered the public arena as a great orator with an axe to grind and demonic constructs in his service. His secretary said that one day, he just showed up and gave her this pin to wear, offering no explanation. What the Hells happened there? Is he even Matthias Prideborn or is he another construct in disguise, merely possessing the face and memories of the real Matthias?
Antonia Warborn’s traitor father was caught by Dawnlands adventurers. The Vazroques’ nightclub was attacked by Dawnlands adventurers. The sewer druids blame Dawnlands adventurers for urban creep. They must have been all selected and recruited for that common hatred, but by whom?
And where the fuck are these intellect devourers coming from? It’s not that strange red elder brain he met in the Underdark last year, is it?
“Ludicrous,” Jaezred mutters out loud.
In the corner of his eye, he catches sight of a ripple in the shadows on the floor. He roots around in the desk for a small quartz gem with a single black tear suspended within it, and when he finds it, he casts the spell that allows He’lylbreia to take physical form.
A sleek panther rises out of the shade as the gem turns inky black. They put their front paws on Jaezred’s leg and stare at him with large red eyes.
“Yes, what is it?”
Looking into the shadow spirit’s eyes, he feels a wave of emotions well up within him: feelings of comfort, cosiness, and the warmth of a delicious hot beverage. It goes away as quickly as it came.
“Oh, you want me…to take a break? Take care of myself? Well, I appreciate the thought, He’lylbreia, but I’m bu—”
He is cut off by a big, wet, sandpapery tongue dragging up his cheek. He cries out, laughs, and lightly pushes He’lylbreia away as they try to give him more “kisses”.
“Ow! Alright, alright, fine. A trip to the barber, and then I’ll talk to Imryll about a holiday. Are you happy?”
He’lylbreia sits back down and purrs contentedly. Jaezred feels another wave of emotions coming from them, this time of affirmation and joy.
He chuckles and scritches their chin. “You silly thing. I love you too.”
Many listless nights were spent spinning the threads, finding anchor points, and creating connections. He knows that, likely, he does not have every single detail of every single event, but this is enough; for now, his work is as complete as it can be. The master weaver sits back in his chair and gazes upon his creation.
…This is absolute madness.
Lord Jaezred sighs and rests his face in his palms. He feels the now-thick fuzz on his jaw and thinks he really needs to pay Caphanis at the Whispering Blade Perfumery a visit — a stubble gives “ruggedly handsome”, but a full beard would make him look old.
He drops his hands and looks at the cork board before him once more. This conspiracy is intricate, complex, and ludicrous all at once, but what does it all mean?
Each location has a different “instigator” wearing the symbol as a pin and a different modus operandi. And their goal is to…isolate the Dawnlands? Distract the adventurers? Cause chaos?
The symbol. It’s being drawn everywhere as some kind of terror tactic. It was found in a chimaera’s nest within the enigmatic Temple of All Seasons. Was it the symbol of the Wild Hunt or something they adopted recently, like everyone else?
The Wild Hunt. An old legend coming back to haunt the Feywild. Why are the fey monarchs silent on this? Not even Queen Nicnevin, who tasked him with monitoring the situation, would tell him anything.
Matthias Prideborn was once a reclusive, kind, no-name businessman. Then suddenly he entered the public arena as a great orator with an axe to grind and demonic constructs in his service. His secretary said that one day, he just showed up and gave her this pin to wear, offering no explanation. What the Hells happened there? Is he even Matthias Prideborn or is he another construct in disguise, merely possessing the face and memories of the real Matthias?
Antonia Warborn’s traitor father was caught by Dawnlands adventurers. The Vazroques’ nightclub was attacked by Dawnlands adventurers. The sewer druids blame Dawnlands adventurers for urban creep. They must have been all selected and recruited for that common hatred, but by whom?
And where the fuck are these intellect devourers coming from? It’s not that strange red elder brain he met in the Underdark last year, is it?
“Ludicrous,” Jaezred mutters out loud.
In the corner of his eye, he catches sight of a ripple in the shadows on the floor. He roots around in the desk for a small quartz gem with a single black tear suspended within it, and when he finds it, he casts the spell that allows He’lylbreia to take physical form.
A sleek panther rises out of the shade as the gem turns inky black. They put their front paws on Jaezred’s leg and stare at him with large red eyes.
“Yes, what is it?”
Looking into the shadow spirit’s eyes, he feels a wave of emotions well up within him: feelings of comfort, cosiness, and the warmth of a delicious hot beverage. It goes away as quickly as it came.
“Oh, you want me…to take a break? Take care of myself? Well, I appreciate the thought, He’lylbreia, but I’m bu—”
He is cut off by a big, wet, sandpapery tongue dragging up his cheek. He cries out, laughs, and lightly pushes He’lylbreia away as they try to give him more “kisses”.
“Ow! Alright, alright, fine. A trip to the barber, and then I’ll talk to Imryll about a holiday. Are you happy?”
He’lylbreia sits back down and purrs contentedly. Jaezred feels another wave of emotions coming from them, this time of affirmation and joy.
He chuckles and scritches their chin. “You silly thing. I love you too.”