Fictive Fun

 This weekend, I decided to heed the advice of the goblin I met on Moonbreaker Mountain and attempt The Calling Ritual to find a familiar. I felt a strong connection to the majestic peaks, so I made my way back to the Moonbreaker Range. I found a secluded spot, and carefully arranged a circle of stones and alpine flowers, then settled myself within the center. I closed my eyes and focused my mind to call out, asking the wild spirits of the mountain to send me a companion willing to aid a new witch with my duties in service of High Rannoc. At first, there was only silence, save for the gentle breeze rustling the nearby trees. But then, I heard the soft padding of paws approaching. Slowly opening my eyes, I was met with the piercing gaze of a magnificent snow leopard. It regarded me for a long moment before finally speaking. "I am Kaymitch and I am at your service." I was both surprised and delighted. Kaymitch's regal stance and intelligent eyes told me that he would be a f...

 I stayed busy over the weekend by heading back up to the mountain cave to tinker around with the broken stone golem. I tried my best to reactivate it, trying multiple spells to cast into the runes carved into its surface, but it remained lifeless. I will need to consult my books again and spend more time studying this ancient being if I hope to bring it back to life. While I was in the mountains, I also took some more cuttings of cynic ivy and brought it back to plant in the garden plot behind the cottage. I'm hoping to cultivate my own supply rather than having to trek back up the Moonbreaker Range each time I need it. The soil here seems rich, so with some care and attention, I'm hopeful the ivy cuttings will take root. I still can't help but feel a bit like a stranger in this cottage. The previous witch's notes are helpful, but this place doesn't quite feel like home yet. I suppose it will just take some more time to get settled and accustomed to my new life her...

Cyel's Journal, Week 1 I've finally arrived at the cottage on the outskirts of High Rannoc. It's a quaint little place, surrounded by a weedy garden plot and nestled between the Glimmerwood Grove and Meltwater Loch, with a beautiful view of the Moonbreaker Range. I'm pleasantly surprised to find the cottage well-furnished and tidy. A cozy living room at the entry, with a fireplace, sofa and plush armchair. There is a kitchen, complete with a stove and wooden cabinets stocked with cooking supplies. A potion room with the basics; mortar and pestle, cauldron, and alembic for distillation. The bedroom is quite small with a comfy bed and small wardrobe. But what's most striking is the lack of personal effects. Not a single item belonging to the previous witch seems to remain. There was a note on the kitchen table that started with, "If you're reading this, I'm probably missing...or dead." A bit creepy. However, the note also mentioned that High Rannoc i...

Malachi struggled his way back to Skab's palace. The Targ Cartel had increased the number of guards at the town entries, probably due to the recent battle between the empire and uprising A guard stopped Malachi by grabbing his arm as he tried to limp past. "Where you going Pellucid? Are you deaf? Did you not hear me telling you to stop?" Malachi looked at the Targ's large hand wrapped around his arm the met the gaze of Targ. "I am only going to ask you once to let me go." Another Targ nearby rushed over and whispered into the ear of the guard holding Malachi. The guard instantly released him. "Just because you're a Nomad doesn't mean you don't have to follow our rules." Malachi ignored the comment and made his way into the town. He remembered seeing a clinic here on his last visit and headed there. He found the small clinic, it's sign nearly unreadable after being blasted by sandstorms. Without hesitation he burst through the door a...

The Nomad reached the carcass of the old Empire starship just before dawn. The jagged wreckage jutted upward from the sands like a shard from the heavens. Once a gleaming example of imperial power, now a pitted and twisted ruin. Malachi made his way inside the massive skeleton, the halls and metal twisted into maze of corridors. Malachi navigated his way to the remains of the bridge. An open expanse dotted with metal in which the valuable electronics and metals had long been scavenged. Malachi froze as he pulled himself up to the main platform. A silhouette barely illuminated by the rising orange star. A Talok, but not just any Talok. "Ivee?" The Nomad muttered. The Talok turned slowly at the sound of his name, his blue leathery tail leaving a clean wipe in the dust of the platform. "In the flesh old friend." Malachi's mind raced back to memories of that fateful day. Ivee V'uush and Malachi Das, two up and coming hotshots in the Trade Alliance on their way t...

The town of Vas Remas, the largest on Talus, shone like a lonely street light in a dark alley. It's lights illuminated a small section of the vast night sky. Malachi made his way into the central square, throngs of humans and Murians packed the open area. The open market conducted its business under the cool air of the night stars instead of the blazing hot day. Although the day's events had exhausted the Nomad, Malachi wandered through the crowd, questioning anyone who would listen. "Kwame Devine," he would lean in close so that the question could be heard over the murmur of the crowd. "Have you seen him or know anyone who has?" He was met with the all-too familiar response - shaking heads, shrugs, a "don't know" or "can't help you". His head felt heavy, a headache from spending too much time in the heat and not enough time asleep began to pulsate within his crystal head. Suddenly, a bit of movement caught his vison. Malachi snat...

Malachi spent yet another day traveling the scorched sands of Talus. As he reached the top of a high dune, movement in the distance caught his eye. Squinting through his binoculars against the glare, he made out the distinctive silhouettes of several Lek'Tok, the insectoid species adapted to this desert world. They seemed to be approaching him, their six limbs propelling them swiftly across the sand. Malachi aimed his rifle, his nerves on edge. The Lek'Tok were not known for their hospitality towards other species, and he had no desire to engage in an uneeded confrontation. But as they drew nearer, he could see that their posture was not aggressive, and their chittering voices held a tone of... pleading? The group of four Lek'Tok surrounded Malachi, their multifaceted eyes fixed upon him. One of them, the largest of the group, stepped forward and began to speak in a high-pitched series of clicks and trills. Malachi listened, his translator trying to keep up with the strange...

Still resolute, Malachi continued his search across the endless dunes of Talus. The desert heat had a way of sapping not only the Nomad's strength but also his spirit. Yet he was determined to find Kwame Devine. As he navigated the undulating dunes, a flash of color caught his eye. Approaching cautiously, Malachi knelt down and examined the torn remnants of a backpack, its emblem bearing the unmistakable insignia of the Old Empire. The poor soul who had once carried this pack had likely met a grisly fate at the jaws of some desert predator. Malachi scanned the area, his senses heightened, but there was no sign of the owner's remains. Continuing on, Malachi soon came across another Murian Scrapcrawler, its treads churning up the sand as it moved slowly across the dunes. Malachi approached the vehicle, hoping to glean some information about Devine's whereabouts, but the Murians aboard seemed just as evasive as the others he had encountered. Although no one asked, one Murian h...

As dawn broke, Malachi found himself approaching a towering palace, its ornate spires and domes gleaming in the morning light. This, he knew, was Skab's Palace, the domain of one of the Targ Cartel's most powerful members. Malachi entered the town surrounding the palace, he observed the various locals who milled about, preparing for the day's work. Something seemed off about some of them – their movements were sluggish, their expressions vacant and unfocused. Intrigued, Malachi followed the faint sound of a strange, pulsing rhythm, which seemed to be emanating from a nearby warehouse. Cautiously, he made his way towards the building, his hand resting on the hilt of his rifle. As he peered inside, Malachi's eyes widened in surprise. A Mystic Order acolyte stood in the center of the warehouse, his human hands outstretched as he vibrated a series of metal canisters, creating a mesmerizing, rhythmic tone. Two mercenary guards, one human and one Murian, were nearby, pistols ...

Back in the desert, Malachi nervously tapped his shock rifle as he surveyed the crashed New Uprising starfighter, half-buried in the desert sands. He looked around the area and up in the sky but saw no other activity in the area. The sleek, angular craft was in bad shape, its hull scorched and battered. As he approached, he could hear the faint crackle of a radio transmission coming from the cockpit. Malachi peered inside, his crystalline features reflecting the dim glow of the displays. The pilot was slumped over the controls, unmoving. Malachi then leaned in to get a better look at the pilot. "Alive, but unconscious," he thought. Malachi's view then shifted to the radio, where a panicked conversation was unfolding. "...repeat, the Empire knew about the ambush! We're being picked off one by one!" a voice crackled. "Requesting immediate reinforcement, they have us hemmed in here! We need to break through or we're all-" The transmission dissolve...