The Reading of the Will (UVP - Campaign 1 - Session 1)

PCs:

Arc - Maker; expert in lenses

Ren - Weaver; wielder of Fire, Alleyways, and The Woods

Adella - Maker; expert in gyroscopes

Bron - Goetic; wielder of a Pale iron dagger

Adna - Vance... very much so

The party arrived piecemeal in western Indigo after months long journeys across the Alone, each happy to see land again as they spied the arcing coast of the Circle Sea (a Gulf of Mexico sized crater signaling the beginning of the Rainbowlands).

All traveled south to the Violet City by different routes. Some fell in with cat lords and traded stories for valuable sacks of coffee (Arc and Adna), others marked the hours by nothing more than the lazy scroll of the horizon (Adella and Bron), and Ren... got tendril tapeworms and arrived at the gates of the Violet City feeling some type of way.

At the gates, the party met up around the same time and confirmed they were all here to attend the reading of The Seer’s will, to take place on the following morning (the 10th of Summer, 512 AW). They took in the scene of the gaudy archways and porticos towering above the Bluelander refugee camps quickly swelling into slums around the walls of the city. They would seek lodging and the hospitality of the cat lords within the walls.

Within, the vislae learned that lodging for guests of The Seer (may she find peace beyond the Pale) would be on their own dime. They cast about for an establishment that wasn’t quite so cat themed and landed upon The Silver Stag, a lovely 4 star hotel. The vislae booked a block of adjacent rooms, except Arc, who splurged to rent a night in the stately “Stag Suite” penthouse on the floor above.

With rooms secured, the vislae took their airs in the streets, and wandered together as the city did its best to seduce them with the many attractions on offer. The spectacle was marred somewhat by a drunkard staggering out of a bar in front of them (The Salubrious Shell) clutching a stab wound in his abdomen. He was wearing a Goetic’s medallion, and Bron went to investigate, keen to connect with a fellow order member.

This unfortunate sod turned out to be named Vorgo, not a Goetic, but a lovesick zilat (he shapeshifts into a dog apparently?) with a map to the Behemoth Shell and a quest to secure a pearl for his love Cubina (her father is a warlord with no time for a pauper you see). Adna was not amused but was not about to let a non die on her boots. She followed Vancian field protocol and tore his clothes to fashion some effective bandages. As “payment” she confiscated his map. Vorgo begged to join the party as far as the Behemoth Shell, but the vislae were less than impressed. Arc tossed him €25 and said if he could “double it or better” in the next 24 hours that he’d be worth their consideration. Vorgo scampered off to prove himself while the party settled in for drinks before retiring to their rooms.

The next morning the party assembled at the address given for the will reading, a tea house called the Lotus Eye. They were ushered to the upper room and greeted by nine chairs, a deeply black cube, and a haggard looking Goetic missing his medallion named Agravain Stormstrom. An obligatory cat lord legal supervisor named Fluffles napped on a pedestal.

The will was read. The will called out the fact that it was the 444th anniversary of the start of the Second War, a travesty The Seer had predicted, and whose predictions had gone unheeded at the time. The will outlined their final request: that nine specific vislae should convey their remains (held within the cube) all the way to the Black City, the far western reach of Indigo. This must be done within 2 years from the reading of the will. As the absurd request settled on the party, Agravain distributed a wrapped parcel to each of the vislae: personal gifts/bequeathments from The Seer to be opened when the moment felt right.

The party broke into groups to discuss roles and logistics. Adella would be chronicler. Arc and Adna considered trading coffee to finance the voyage. Lunch was served.

Bron cornered Agravain on the portico and inquired after his missing medallion. Was it perhaps lost gambling with a pink haired fool named Vorgo? No, insisted Agravain unconvincingly, he was robbed. Though if the medallion that certainly wasn’t his was acquired from Vorgo he would pay for its safe return.

Bron made plans to excuse himself and seek out the wayward were-pug Vorgo.

And that was the session! Bron was nominated MVP.

Will a clear leader emerge? Will Vorgo win the party’s favor? What awaits at the Black City? Is this a sentimental quest, or something deeper? Knowing The Seer, all is arranged, but nothing will be simple...