[Enter the green door.]
Sleep does not wash over you so much as it drowns you. A sleep like death, like your death, there in the ruins of the past. You dream of black wings taking flight.
Perception Check: 6
Failure
Stolas is flying somewhere as you slumber. In your dreams, you have a bird’s eye view of Rowangrave. The sensation slips past you like sand through your fingers.
———
[Cirrus loses condition: Exhausted.]
You wake reinvigorated.
As you open your bedroom door, you hear a slight klink. It is the familiar sound of empty glass bottles strewn on the living room floor. You instinctively tread with care as you brave the wreckage Damien left in his wake last night. It is a sight to behold: a house party for two, spilt alcohol stickying the floorboards. The remains of midnight street food are strewn carelessly on the dining table. You are amazed you slept through it all.
Insight check: 17
Success
Did Damien have the foresight to incite that crazed old wizard’s impromptu fumigation before going on a filthy all-night bender? No—Damien Fischer couldn’t be so deviously shameless…. Right?
Charisma saving throw: 5
Failure
Old habits die hard, and you find yourself taking care of the mess despite yourself. You bend over and begin collecting sticky, ale-soaked bottles. You clean the uneaten food off the table. You work deftly and soundlessly, accustomed as you are to caretaking while others sleep.
Your tail flicks. You feel a strange sense of sympathy for Damien as you quietly clean up the mess around him, sleeping there on the lounge chair in the arms of his newest boyfriend Georg, a furbolg with spectacles and a job with the city. There is something disarming about Damien’s complete openness, his ability to sleep in the living room in nothing but his underwear while shifted into the form of a slight shadow elf girl, all ashen skin and long, gothic charcoal hair draped over him and his boyfriend like a black satin veil. There is an expression of angelic repose on his face as he rests nuzzled into Georg’s furry embrace.
It is, in any case, a Wednesday, and you do not tarry overlong in cleaning up the house, as you still need to get to work. Before you head out the door, you double-check your cloak to make sure you have your dagger with you.
It’s there.
———
After work, you think on Stolas’s words. Hast thou walked through the green door three blocks from thine employment? In truth, in all these years you have kept your head down during your commute to and from the Redcap Tavern. It is a rough part of town—a district for laborers and vagabonds—and you have tried your best to avoid eliciting unwanted attention. You trace a path through the neighboring streets, the pawn shops and the backalley doctors, until eventually you find your goal.
Situated atop a three-step stoop like all the rest around it, hiding in plain sight on a major throughway street, is a simple green door among a strip of storefronts. Blackout curtains cover the windows, preventing a view inside. But above the door there is a simple wooden sign hanging from a black iron rod. In an unassuming script the sign reads “Spirit Medium.”
Something stirs within you, a feeling without a name.
You knock on the door. From the other side you hear a muffled voice say, “Who is it?”
Perception check: 17
Success
After all these years, you still recognize the Vistani fortune teller’s voice after only one encounter. Or rather, it may be more accurate to say that, after all these years, Lias’s coy and lilting tone has not gone hard like so many of the voices of this city.
“…A seeker of fortune,” you say.
“Then lower your hood, if you please, so the spirits may see this seeker.”
You do so. And the green door opens for you.
In front of you stands Lias, the feylost traveler, almost untouched by the passage of time. Their pale blond hair is kept a bit longer than the last time you saw them, so many years ago. It curls in a loose bob that touches their shoulders, brushing against their pale gray shawl. Though there are some bags under their eyes, the fortune teller’s easy, playful expression remains much unchanged.
As you stand at the threshold, Lias raises their eyes to meet yours.
“My. You’ve grown taller. And… lost an eye, I see.”
“Why do you think I need a seer?” you say.
Lias laughs, a curled ball of a hand raising to their lips. And you laugh a bit too. The remark had just slipped out from you, casually.
“Come in, come in. You can set your coat on the hook in the entryway.”
The blood rushes to your cheeks as you realize you are still dressed for work.
Charisma contest!
Lias rolls 15.
Cirrus rolls Natural 20!
“I’m sorry, but I’m… quite chilly,” you say.
Lias acquiesces. You make sure to fasten the inner clasp of your cloak to conceal your barmaid outfit.
———
You stand in what appears to be a two-story home, its first floor converted into what might be considered, very loosely, to be an office. Though it is by no means extravagant, the space is warmly decorated, lined with living plants that are nourished by wisps of dancing light.
Nature check: 18
Success
Far from being merely decorative, many of the plants appear to be herbal in nature. Allium and mugwort, holy thistle and poppy, deadly nightshade and rue. Despite the lack of sunlight, these appear to be prospering under Lias’s green thumb.
“I have a pot of tea brewing,” Lias says, and steps around a corner lightly, and from the next room over you hear them call, “would you like a cup?”
You say yes, and soon Lias is standing in front of you again, offering you a steaming cup of herbal tea.
“To warm you up,” they say.
Cirrus rolls Insight with advantage.
Natural 1.
Natural 20.
You feel… Safe.
You drink the tea, and though you were lying about being cold, it really does warm you up. In the taste of steeped flowers mixed with honey, a memory returns to you, a voice. If you mean to join our band, then you will be family.
The honeyed drink and honeyed memory fill you with an overwhelming feeling of safety. You find it hard to speak, to find the right words, and so you simply drink deep of the warming tea, until the words appear on their own.
“It is hard to believe,” you finally say, “that our meeting by chance so many years ago could prove so fruitful now.”
Lias smiles. “It must not be chance, then,” they say, “but perhaps the spirits’ will. They say that souls in the Lands of Mist live in cycles, taking mortal forms over and over again, reliving their same desires and mistakes and passions. Perhaps the spirits guided us to a reunion.”
Perhaps they did. What could this reunion be if not a gift from Stolas?
“But come, friend. Sit at my table. You said you have need of a seer, did you not? I am Lias, and I speak for the spirits. Come, sit and speak.”
There will be time enough to discuss the rumors you’ve gathered. First, it’s time to catch up.
How will you guide the conversation? (Pick 3)
A. Learn more about Lias.
B. Tell Lias about Damien and your job.
C. Tell Lias about Stolas.
D. Discuss the Child of Light and the return of monsters to Rowangrave.
E. Ask if Lias has a roommate.
F. Ask if Lias is single.
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