Location: Whitestone city-state, continent of Tal’Dorei
Date: 23 Thunsheer 840 PD (calendar of Exandria)
Occasion: Extended celebration of Merryfronds; also, Keyleth, the Voice of the Tempest, has invited all Ashari peoples to Whitestone so that her adventuring-family, Vox Machina, can meet her mother Vilya, recently returned from being missing for many years.
Party Members:
- Bob the Therapist – changeling warlock with a couch for a familiar
- Flora Zosna – loxodon paladin
- Jeremiah Callows – human cleric
- Stubby – half-elf artificer
- Tāmerai – gnome bard
- Tunk – bugbear monk
Critical Role Cameos: Keyleth, Grog, Percy, Jarrett (mention), Scanlan, Pike, Vex, Kaylie, Vilya
The Windup
The day before the main day of the ten-day celebration, the city-state of Whitestone, sees the city more crowded than at any normal time. Not only are its residents out in full force, determined to enjoy every single minute and taste every delight, but the visitors add to the crowds and festivity. The Ashari leaders introduce their people to everything and everyone.
- Keyleth – Voice of the Tempest (leader of Vesrah, the Air Ashari)
- Pa’tice – Heart of the Mountain (leader of Terrah, the Earth Ashari)
- Cerkonos – Flamespeaker (leader of Pyrah, the Fire Ashari)
- Uvenda – Heart of the Waves (leader of Vesrah, the Water Ashari)
Those who have heard of the Ashari peoples may feel slightly misinformed, once they meet any, to learn that contrary to myth, they don’t color-code their outfits to tell where they’re from.
Speaking of myths, there are people here that are not the usual Tal’Dorei demographic. Tal’Dorei is about 40% human. The remainder is split, more or less evenly, between non-Drow elves, non-Duergar dwarves, halflings, and “other.” (Half-elves count as “other” even though they make up a significant minority population in both elvish and human society.) But here — whether because of visitors or because Whitestone is odd — there are also a visible number of less common races. To Whitestone residents, it looks more diverse than usual, but to visitors who may not know that most of the diversity is imported for the occasion, it resembles a utopia of non-issue. That one loxodon, however, may draw glances even from the most cosmopolitan, being as they are extremely rare even in their homeland.
The day before the main event, Whitestone’s residents and visitors are mostly gathered around the Sun Tree. Huge buffet tables, food booths, other booths… Everyone can find something to buy, something to admire, something to experience, and then go graze the buffet and sit in the shade for a meal. Flora delights in exotic fruits like lychee and cranberries. Stubby amuses herself by drawing a mustache on a drawing of her mother in the same fruit seller’s booth. Jeremiah is beckoned, as a man of the cloth (and sometimes shield) to marry an elderly couple surrounded by children and grandchildren from previous marriages, and officiates with great joy. Tāmerai discreetly follows Stubby, not exactly her charge, but someone for whom she clearly feels some responsibility. Bob buys a very nice bottle of premium snake oil, then spends the rest of his time people-watching. Tunk… Tunk is at first nowhere to be seen, but after an unexpected encounter with Lord Percival, leaves the library and decides to take in the sights. People meet, delight in each other’s company, eat, play, show off skills and purchases and outfits. It’s a very pleasantly noisy day, out in the perfect weather of early spring in Whitestone.
The Pitch
Suddenly, bells ring throughout the city, clanging a warning to all. A guard’s voice screams out, “DRAGON! DRAGON!” and points skyward. An enormous, ancient, white dragon blots out the sunshine, casting their shadow over the gathering. Stubby and other Whitestone residents immediately spring to action, pointing the way towards The Bits-N-Snatches Inn and shepherding all the children and elderly inside as quickly as they can run. Most of the not-yet-really-a-party follow suit, once they understand what’s meant to happen, although Bob immediately shifts form into that of a child and runs for the inn and the hiding tunnels, hollering “Mommy!” the whole way.
Roll Initiative!
Not only the dragon, but wyverns and wyrmlings fill the air, swooping and warming and attacking. Pandemonium (the general state, not the entire plane of existence) ensues. One wyrmling beelines for Flora, as a large target with an unfamiliar shape. Stubby throws an Acid Splash on the wyrmling that attacked Flora. Tunk attacks another wyrmling with his staff, then tries to get between it and the door to the inn, below which apparently there are some tunnels that can fit the whole town, and then some, for hiding purposes. Someone hollers “Close the door!” intending to shut out the wyrmling. Tāmerai pulls a tiny brass ocarina from some fold of clothing and plays a driving, inspiring riff that not only causes the wyrmling to glow brightly, but inspires Jeremiah to feel like just a little bit more of a badass than he did before.
Bob closes the door to the Bits-N-Snatches behind himself, and with that, several things happen. The six not-yet-a-party members are frozen in place, along with the wyrmling, and instantly are gripped with extreme nausea. Everything goes white. It is not unlike a teleportation spell, for those who have experienced it, but much more rough. Less like an experienced pilot landing an unfamiliar plane, and more like a copilot on their first day, trying to land a plane in a storm.
When the whiteness and nausea clear, the six (and half of a wyrmling) (and a suddenly-visible couch near Bob) are not in Whitestone anymore.
A New Playing Field
It feels less like a lovely warm day in early spring, and more like late autumn or early winter. The trees are all different from the ones in Whitestone, unfamiliar to the suddenly-a-party other than Tunk. The sky is overcast. The trees come out of the mountains sideways rather than growing straight up, as if someone had picked up the world like a giant snow globe, shaken it, and then put it back down on its side.
After a moment, Tāmerai mutters, “Draconia?” and then everyone who has ever studied history or learned anything of that once-great land recognizes it. This is definitely Draconia. Poor, fallen Draconia, its once-majestic buildings in ruins, its vegetation excessively vibrant after the land was soaked for so many centuries in blood and blood magic, nutrients from its oppressed population still richly abundant in its soil.
Bob has lost his “child” form and is back in his previous “adult humanoid-presenting male-presenting individual” look. He suggests that they all take a moment to introduce themselves, while Stubby and Tunk pick over the dead wyrmling’s front half. (Loot: 4 wyrmling claws, 1 gizzard, 3 vials of blood.)
Bob: I’m Bob, and I’m a therapist. A PhD student looking to consensually collect information for my dissertation Stranger Danger: trust and trauma in the adventurer population.
Jeremiah: My name is Jeremiah Callows. I am a man of the cloth, and sometimes the shield.
Flora, 19, said that her mother had sent her out to look for relatives, or “others,” or something (we can’t remember). She’s shy, and Bob may or may not unnerve her.
Stubby, 16: I’m Stubby. (Despite everyone having heard Tāmerai calling her Lady Victoria multiple times, no one bats a lash at this.)
Tunk, 31: I’m Tunk, and I’m a monk. Tunk the monk, on assignment from the Cobalt Soul. I don’t like to talk about my past.
Tāmerai: I am Tāmerai, and I am an artist.
Bob: What type of art do you make?
Tāmerai: Hospitality.
Bob: Are you a prostitute?
The others: [stifle, or don’t stifle, nervous laughter]
Tāmerai: No, it would be very disrespectful of me to infringe upon the rights of sex workers.
Bob: Fair.
There are four roads. One, faint and worn, leads to the right, further into the woods. The one to the left leads off to some low hills. Two in the forward direction — one leads to the mountains, and the other looks as though in the far distance it might be paved. Jeremiah and Tāmerai both think the party should follow the constructed road and try to find people. Construction, Tāmerai adds, generally means people. After some discussion, the group decide they might as well, since they have no other indication of where to go or what to do.
Extra Inning???
Simultaneously, several of the impromptu group hear some weird chittering or rustling or something in a dead shrub by the road. Tunk pokes at it, and out pops a very ANGRY little twig. Like… a twig, but strangely also a little bit humanoid, and it hisses and chitters at them.
Roll Initiative! (and I’m shortcutting this)
Stubby: Acid Splash.
Tunk: POP POP. (He eventually gets the kill shot on the first twig.)
Flora: Dual-wielded axes.
Twig: Hits Tunk.
Bob: Eldritch Blast while looking the other way nervously. Twig dies, but 2 more “bushes” perk up and get angry with us.
Jeremiah: Mace-pointing and ordering it to stop — Toll the Dead.
Tāmerai: Two hairsticks (gamewise: darts); one of them hits.
Stubby: Acid Splash, but it hits neither of the two twigs.
Tunk: Gets one all by himself. Sweet Lux, he’s a killing machine. Stay near this guy.
Remaining twig: Eyes widen. Terrified. Regrets life choices.
Flora: “Have you had enough? I mean you no harm. If you are done.”
Twig: Hyperventilates. Bobs head. Turns twig and runs.
Jeremiah: Tries to grapple. Fails. Orders twig to just stop.
Twig: Busts a move. Apparently Jeremiah is in charge of our group, and also now of this twig.
The rest of the walk to the town they all expect to find is uneventful. As the group walk, they haphazardly discuss the fact that Draconia was a floating kingdom of dragonborn that existed thanks to some shady magicks being used, mostly against people who lived below the kingdom in what was known simply as the Ravine — the hole/divot/valley left when Draconia was lifted out of the earth and brought high into the sky. But these are all legends. The town that the newly forming party discover is a shambles, at best. Ruined, ravaged, sundered. Skeletal bodies, years-dead, lie literally everywhere. The landscape is apparently devoid of sentiently life, though the vegetation is still disturbingly brilliant and flourishing. One of the party who has studied such things in paintings, drawings, literature, and occasionally even the Major Illusion spell being used to share people’s actual sights, immediately knows that this is, or was, the city of Tyriex.
And also, that it is in the wrong spot. The immediate surroundings are Tyriex, but the area further off should have mountains shaped just so, and not like… this. Tyriex is in the wrong place. The only logical conclusion to be drawn is that Draconia fell, then was lifted back up, shifted, and set back down (or fell) again.
Take your meds.
Hydrate.
Don’t forget to love each other.
Is it Game Day yet?