Session 0

C2 Let's steal wallets

As a necromancer, I have to follow Dan with H.

As for age, is it really relevant if we're a spoopy skeleton?

Anyway. Witch always has a female connotation in my mind.

Therefore, my vote is H4.

You examine the bones more closely.  Scooping them up, you drop them down and watch them scatter about.  It feels natural.  Yes.  Fortune telling.  This wand.  It lacks the raw power of a wizard's staff, but it works well enough for channeling a bit of magic now and again.  A nice little ceremonial knife, wavy and ill-suited for actual combat.  Some flakes of blood still line the edge.  But otherwise it looks well-maintained.  So you probably usually take good care of it and it was used recently.  But you can't remember...

You find another little pouch full of frog's legs, bat wings, lumps of coal, small vials of various fluids...  Plenty for your usual rituals.  And a pack of the usual adventuring gear.  Bedroll, waterskins, torches, rope.  Extra clothes.  Bandages.  Hairbrush.  Lots of little minor magic trinkets and potions.  Extra ritual ingredients.

You snap your fingers and release a small spark.

Yes.  This feels right.  You're a Witch.  Not exactly the most popular of the spellcasters thanks to a few - OK, a lot - of evil Witches.  It's not illegal or anything, an adventuring guild office won't turn you away, but you can expect a lot of dirty looks.  Usually easier just to let people think you're a wizard or something.

You feel a bit of familiarity with yourself coming back.  The woman in the mirror doesn't feel like quite as much of a stranger.  You take a closer look, hoping to bring a little more back.  You're clearly somewhat experienced as an adventurer, despite your young age.  Which means you should have developed some specialty by now...  What are you?

(A) Just a human.  Nothing special in a place like this.

(B) A dwarf of course.  Wandering a bit far from home, but what else could I be?

(C) So tall, so elegant, utterly refined and graceful.  I'm a high elf, naturally.

(D) Grey skin, red eyes.  No nonsense.  I'm a drow.

(E) Silky hair and a big, fluffy tail...  Only kitsune could be so beautiful.

(F) I thought I was human, but my eyes are glowing a bit... I must be an aasimar.

(G) Pointy tail, fangs, and a huge set of horns.  Who could resist a tiefling like me?

(H) Short, maybe a bit of a goofy outfit.  Yep.  Gnome.  Bored now.  Time to go.

(I) My skin's such a pale blue, and my hair looks like an ocean wave.  I'm an Undine... and a proper bath sounds really nice right now.

(J) Dark skin?  No pupils?  Some people find us Xeph kinda off-putting, especially in close quarters.

(K) I'm really small!  I have wings!  I'm a pixie!  Everything's amazing!

(L) Oh, hey, I'm a tabaxi.  Nyah, y'know?  Like, nyaaaah?  Just look at those ears.

(M) Well, judging from my height and the wiggling antennae poking out, I'm probably a Lashunta.


(1) My specialty?  Divination.  I'm not interested in what fate decrees.  Reality is whatever I decide.  Anyone who says otherwise can be cursed.

(2) Nature calls to me, and I answer it.  It can be a bit difficult to use in a proper city like this, but even here the life of the earth and the weather above calls out to be invoked.

(3) My dances and songs are a way to channel more traditional elemental magics.  Earth, fire, water, and wind flow to my rhythm.

(4) I'm a healer.  Sure, I know where to plant a knife or what kind of poison to use, and maybe I end up using that sort of thing far more often, but healing is my passion.  Really.

(5) They call us Bound Witches.  My weapon is my life, and I am my weapon.  Why am I not terrified it is missing?  Because I know it will come when I call it.  With it at my side and by manipulating my own body - and maybe a few curses - I can fight as well as any warrior.

I3 sounds like a neat combo.

Neo that's Towa Fuzz accidentally remade Towa, Dear Mr. Offire please consider instead of Pixie, which I've seen from Crow the Humble Gnome..... And Magic weapons are just cool so H5

You cock your head and stare for a bit, finally adjusting your deep blue hair behind your fin-shaped ears.  Much better.  It's so hard to manage.  Even as you manage to bundle up most of it to tie in a ponytail, long strands are already escaping to flop over your shoulders.  You let out a defeated sigh and give up, letting it all drape loosely.  It needs washing, anyway, and a bath is definitely next on the agenda after... whatever happened last night.

You poke your head out the door and take a quick look down the hallway.  At least the bathroom a few doors down is clearly marked.  You form a phantasmal hand and tap at the door, and it swings open invitingly.  Good.  You weren't really in the mood to wait.  You suddenly remember you always were a bit on the impatient side.

You throw together an outfit and slip out in your nightgown, darting into the bathroom before anyone can beat you.  Inside you find a simple tub with water much less clean than you'd like.  With a grimace, you toss aside the gown - noticing a few small spots of blood on the back you hadn't seen before, and you don't think it's your own.  Definitely for the best no one saw you.

You dip a toe in the water and start humming to yourself.  Such a simple spell doesn't require much concentration.  The grime in the water clears and fades in a matter of moments, and you slide into the now-clean water to relax and calm your nerves for a bit.  Yes.  This is nice.  It doesn't really help you remember anything, but it's still nice to let your fins spread and trail through the water for a bit.

A knock on the door reminds you other people are waiting, so you hop out.  You take a moment to purify the water again, then twirl a few times, unleashing waves of warmth and heat to dry yourself.

You call out that you're getting dressed as you start to change.  Witches and heavy armor rarely mix - high concentrations of metal interfere with most natural types of magic too much - and it looks like you're no exception.  You toss a simple green tunic over your head, the long fins on your forearms pressing down and springing back up as they pass through where you seem to have cut the sleeves off.  It matches your pale-blue skin well.  Adventurers always do prefer a pair of leather boots, but the fins on your calves make finding a pair to fit nearly impossible.  Besides, you've always been fine with sandals.

Once you're decent, you open the door for the waiting human and head back to your room to get the rest of your gear.  You hook on a small leather half-breastplate that's just enough to cover your vitals without getting in the way of your movement.  You clip on a belt with a rapier and your ritual dagger.  Even the relatively lightweight sword used to be a problem, but eventually you found fighting with both helps to keep your balance.  Ritual pouch, coinpurse, and a few potions...  You leave your pack for now and just bring the essentials around your waist.  Just one thing left.  You slip an anklet on one foot, a sheathe of silk linking it to a bracelet that you slip on the opposite wrist.  You briefly remember when you started training with this.  You often ended up face-first on the ground with it wrapped around your own ankles.  But over time you found it has its uses.

Not least of all being a nice decoration - and helping you pass yourself off as a traveling dancer.  People do seem to take more kindly to bards than witches.  Usually.  There was the time an innkeeper nearly ran you out thinking you were trying to bed his daughter.  Complete misunderstanding.  And probably something that had happened before.  You weren't dumb enough to pry.

You take another look in the mirror, twirling on one foot and letting your silk ribbon and hair flow wildly.  Yes.  No.  Wait.  Something's wrong.  You swap the anklet and bracelet to the opposite sides and try again.  Now it feels right.  At least your subconscious still seems to know who you are.  With a smile, you head out of the room and down the stairs.  You aren't sure where to start, really.  Blindly asking strangers for simple information might make you out to be an easy mark for thieves and pickpockets.  Or worse.  But if you can put together where you've been the last few days maybe you can start to trace your path back and figure out why you came... to... this town.  What town is this?  Why are you here?  You shake your head and put a smile back on your face before coming passing into view of the common room below.

Dozens of people are sitting here.  And you remember.  You remember, you aren't some lone adventurer.  You definitely were part of a group.  Definitely.  But which of the people here were they?  You take a deep breath as you scan the room.  Right.  Just trust your gut.


3 votes

(A) A human fighter, just a bit older than you, with a large mace and a crossbow sitting on the bench beside him looks up from a hand of cards, one eye covered with a large scar and an eyepatch.  He looks you up and down, a grim frown that looks like it must be permanently on his face judging by all the early wrinkles, then turns back to his game.  He pushes a few coins into the pot.  "Raise."  He glares at the opponent across from him.

(B) A red-haired half-elf just about your own age - actually, maybe a few dozen years older considering how slow they age - sitting across from him smiles.  She's dressed in flamboyant clothes, a lute and a quiver slung across her back.  She looks at her meager pile of remaining coins and grins, taking off her wide-brimmed hat and setting it on the table instead.  "Call."  When the man shakes his head, she doesn't hesitate to yank off one of her boots and add it as well.  When she catches your eye, she briefly looks you up and down, still grinning, and winks.

(C) The muscular half-orc beside her snorts.  "What use just one boot?  Won't even fit."  He's holding his cards sloppily, and even from here you can tell he doesn't have a particularly great hand - though judging from all the coins lumped in front of him he does seem to have been doing well up until now.  He sets his cards down and shakes his head, reaching for a leg of chicken instead.  He's not wearing much in the way of armor, and from all the scars you assume that's normal for him.  As he throws back a mug of something, he looks your way, then back to his card game.

(D) A dwarf wearing bright grey, finely crafted, and very heavy armor is standing near a dartboard across the room.  He tosses his last dart, landing just barely on the edge of the board.  He leans back and laughs loudly.  "Well, I don't imagine you'll struggle to beat that!"  You recognize a symbol on his shoulder, the mark of The Order of the Stone, one of the popular dwarven religious orders.  That would mean he's a paladin, or maybe a cleric.  He notices you on the stairs and nods.

(E) A small pixie hovers up to the dartboard, grabbing the dart and kicking against the wall for leverage as she yanks it out.  As it pops free she slips backwards, doing a flip and catching herself in midair.  Floating upside down for a moment, she waves to you, then flies back to the dwarf.  She hovers over him for a moment, trying to balance the dart that's almost a quarter her size.  She tosses it straight up, and as it comes down, she spins around and kicks it.  The dart flies towards the board with considerable force, landing near the bulls-eye.  She floats quickly up and down, cheering.

(F) A drow glowering in the corner, his back to the fireplace, looks up at you.  His features are concealed under a heavy cloak, and you can just make out his eyes.  He glares at you as he absently fiddles with a knife.  Once he seems satisfied you aren't a threat, he turns his attention back to a small book in his other hand, its cover decorated with flowers.

(G) A white-bearded gnome is sitting across from him, balanced on top of three books to reach the table.  His nose is buried in a fourth.  He snaps it shut and tries to swap it with one of the books beneath him, ending up falling over in the process.  As he disentangles himself from his own robes, he notices you looking and grows more flustered, managing to end up even more stuck.  He pulls out a small wand and summons a few small mage hands to help.

(H) "Ah..."  The sound of a door opening behind you draws your attention for a moment.  The human from before steps out, a towel wrapped around himself, before quickly moving past you and into one of the rooms.

(I) An olive-skinned man with no pupils is sitting at the counter.  He's writing a letter with one hand.  A cube is floating slightly above his other hand, different colored squares dotting its surface.  It rotates and snaps around as he finishes writing.  Satisfied, he sets the quill aside, glancing at you before he goes to proofread it as he signals the innkeeper for something.

(J) A black-winged, dark-haired woman sitting near the door pops it open and tosses out a shank of ham.  A large dog leaps into view, snatching it before it even hits the ground and tearing into it.  You can make out that she seems to be talking to it.  When the beast is finished eating, it curls up just outside and she turns back to her seat, looking your way for a moment.

(K) A rat scurries out from under one of the tables, snatching a piece of cheese that had landed on the floor.  It drags the tidbit away, retreating out of sight to finish eating.  It's not long before you spot the creature again a short way away.  As it looks around the room, it locks eyes with you for a moment then disappears.  A platinum-haired elf crawls out from the table where the rat had been, blushing as she avoids looking your way.