#[ note: i only started playing shortly before lantern rite of this year. ]

[yuelun]

Everyone: These new Fontaine characters... Me: I have everything I need for Zhongli, phase 2, come to me and let me bring him home.

[ignisaeri]

~

At that time, all Alatus could hear was the howling of the wind, and the screams of the Yakshas as they waged war against their karmic debts.

A blaze of crimson flame splits the night sky as the Pyro Yaksha shrieks, clawing desperately at scarlet locks of hair with bloodied fingernails, trying to rid herself of demons only she can see. Her eyes flash with the light of a thousand stars as she throws her head back, pleading with the darkness in ragged gasps to leave her, to go somewhere where they could not haunt her. She’s still begging as she dies.

~

The Geo Yaksha rests his foot against the Hydro Yaksha’s abdomen, using her still body as leverage to draw his sharpened blade out from between her ribs. His eyes stare into the distance, unseeing, pupils clouded over with an inky black, fingers twitching as they hold the weapon that had killed one of his oldest friends. The Hydro Yaksha only lays quietly, death caressing her form with its bony fingers, the pool of water beneath them tinged pink from blood.

~

The Electro Yaksha falls to his knees, gaze finding Alatus’ one last time, seemingly apologizing for leaving the Anemo Yaksha alone for eternity. His slender hands float over the blade embedded in his chest, then collapses onto his side as his last breaths leave him, currents of violet electricity flickering out into nothing. He dies silhouetted against the blackness of The Chasm, as silent as the sun creeping over the horizon, even as the battle rages endlessly around them.

~

Rex Lapis gazes at Alatus with such pity, such sadness, before smiling hesitantly, gold eyes meeting the Yaksha’s.

‘Sit, Ever Vigilant Yaksha. The archon war is over. Let us share a cup of osmanthus wine.”

“Alatus, I free you from your duty as a Yaksha. In the fables of another world, the name Xiao is that of a spirit who encountered great suffering and hardship. He endured much suffering, as you have. Use this name from now on.”

“Yes, Morax.”

~

The God of Freedom seeks him out one evening, when he’s resting quietly near the edge of a cliff, feet dangling restlessly off the side, imagining the faces of the lost Yakshas floating through the clouds. Barabatos’ braids glow a gentle forest green, and he inclines his head slightly towards Xiao as he nears.

“Alatus, correct?”

“Xiao,” the adeptus corrects him.

“Xiao,” Barbatos says, “Rex Lapis told me of you.”

~

“It was you with the flute, was it not?” Xiao tells Barbatos as they watch the workers construct a massive statue in Liyue’s center, honoring the late Tianquan. Ningguang’s placid face smiles down at them as the workers dust the marble, freeing it from dust and grime.

Venti bobs his head, gaze never straying from where Rex Lapis (now Zhongli) stands with arms folded, gaze dark. With Ningguang gone, the last of the Liyue Qixing has perished.

“Yes,” Venti says. “I saved you that day.”

~

Tonight, they drink, in honor of the dead. Zhongli gingerly holds a glass of osmanthus wine, a glaze lily tucked into his hair. “To Guizhong,” he says. “Havria, Ningguang, and Tartaglia.”

Venti hiccups, face the color of an overripe tomato, the glass of dandelion wine tipping dangerously in his grip. “To the children of Mond,” he choruses. “To the Ragvindr brothers, to Jean, to Lisa, to Noelle. To Klee!”

Baal is here tonight too, and she leans forward restlessly. “To Kujou Sara,” she adds. “To Kitsune, Chiyo, and to Sasayuri.”

Tonight should be solemn, Xiao thinks, as they list the names of their dead companions. Yet, nearly five hundred years after the last of them passed, he feels nothing but contentment.

Xiao raises his own glass. “To the traveler and his sister,” he says. “And to the Yakshas”.

~

Xiao watches as Venti’s fingers dance, weaving an enticing melody through the hollow sounds of his flute. He’s sitting against a rock, the cool water of the stream lapping at his ankles, washing against the outcropping where Venti stands, a face full of bliss as he plays.

The song is one that Xiao wished to hear, one that he had first heard from the cart of a passing merchant shortly after the end of the Archon War.

The notes seem to float away into the air as he listens, chasing away the darkness in his soul, and he closes his eyes, reveling in this small moment of peace.

~

Sometimes, when Xiao sleeps, he dreams. He dreams of a woman wreathed in fire, eyes burning tears down her cheeks. He dreams of a not-truly-there man, standing with his blade buried in the chest of a woman floating limp in blood-tinged water. He dreams of purple lightning dying as a man takes his last breaths deep within The Chasm.

~

He knows, of course, that he cannot run forever. One day, he will become engulfed by his karmic debt, like the Pyro Yaksha, or go mad and disappear, like the Geo Yaksha.

That day comes sooner than he thinks.

~

Liyue is burning. The city is just as Xiao remembers, a perfect place of beauty. If he concentrates, he can still barely remember the night of the Lantern Rite, thousands of years ago. He closes his eyes and wishes to see the light of a hundred lanterns, instead of the light of fire the buildings shudder and succumb to the roaring flame.

Zhongli stands in front of him, something akin to pain in his gaze, one arm thrown to the side to keep Venti from rushing forwards. The Anemo Archon’s eyes are wide and wild, hat askew and bow grasped in shaking hands. Baal stands straight, weapon drawn, sorrow dotting her gaze.

Fontaine’s archon, the God of Justice, flits around the backdrop of burning flame, hurriedly trying to save as much of Liyue as she can. Her hands wave, spilling waves of water over the temples and buildings, undoing the damage that Xiao caused. The Dendro and Pyro Archons are busy, pulling screaming mortals from the wreckage and destruction.

Three torches and three exploding barrels, compiled with Xiao’s anemo attacks, had set all of Liyue aflame.

There is distant screaming in Xiao’s ears, sounds he knows only he can hear. Deliriously, he recalls the Pyro Yaksha howling at non-existent demons millennia ago and wonders absently if the same will afflict him.

The karmic debt has finally taken over, and it seems to favor the path the Geo Yaksha had taken. Xiao almost laughs as he realizes this, feeling trapped within his skin as he wields his polearm, pointed unwaveringly at the archons.

“I am sorry,” he rasps. There is darkness at the edge of his sight, and the screams only intensify. He can hear individual voices now, hissing and howling and wailing, crying for mercy and death and blood.

“Do not apologize,” Zhongli says. “It is not your fault.”

“What is this?” Venti gasps, the sound echoing in Xiao’s ears. “Xiao, what is happening?”

Baal answers for him. “It is the fate of a Yaksha.” Electricity begins to crackle around her shoulders, eyes darkening to violet as she calls the power of the storm.

Xiao wants to weep at how much she reminds him of the Electro Yaksha.

Maybe, he muses, he will see his fellow Yakshas again. Maybe he’ll meet Aether and Lumine too, in the place that lies after death. He may finally meet those who used to belong to Mond, the ones that Venti talks of so adoringly.

Zhongli finally draws his polearm, an earthen pillar appearing before him, casting protective gold around the archons. Xiao knows why.

He can feel the wind gusting around him, responding to calls he does not remember sending out. Leaves swirl in the gale, and trees rip their way out of the ground. The pain in his head intensifies as the number of screaming voices triple.

Xiao meets Zhongli’s gaze. Sometime, somehow, over the years, the archons had become his closest confidants. Yet, Zhongli was always his oldest companion, so now, Xiao asks Zhongli to do the impossible.

“Morax,” he croaks, using a name that hasn’t been spoken for ages. “You must.”

Zhongli’s gaze is pained, yet resolute, and that is how Xiao knows that Morax will kill him to save the world. Baal seems to sense this too, and lightning strikes the ground not too far away, anxiously awaiting her command.

It is only Venti who has not yet seemed to grasp the situation. He frowns at both archons. “What must you do, Zhongli?”

Zhongli only shakes his head, and Xiao knows it pains him to be the one who will have to kill the last Yaksha. So he answers Venti, limbs shaking as he desperately tries to contain the whirlwind threatening to tear from his chest.

“He must kill me. If he does not, I fear I will destroy Teyvat. I have lost control over my body, Venti.”

Barbatos’ eyes flash green, and Xiao is yet again reminded of the power of the archons. “No,” he says simply. “You cannot die. To live for thousands of years, to drink with us, all this time? You cannot die like this.”

Xiao loses concentration, just a tiny sliver, yet the gust of wind that tears from him shears the top off of a nearby mountain. He groans, harnessing the gale yet again, even as the action forces him to his knees.

“Morax,” he says again. “Please.”

Zhongli looks at him, and the archon’s eyes are glistening in the light of the dancing flames, as wind whips his hair into his face.

“Alatus,” he says, and his voice is full of hurt and resignation. “It has been an honor.”

Yes, Xiao wants to answer back, but he cannot force his mouth to move. He just nods, shaking his head as if he can jar the wailing into silence.

Venti starts towards Zhongli, power thrumming at the edges of his fingers, seemingly ready to resort to battle in order to prevent Xiao’s death, and that is when Baal moves. She slams into Venti, pushing him into the ground, even as wind starts to whirl around them - Venti’s magic, not Xiao’s. Her element locking curse comes a second later, binding itself around Venti, even as he hisses at her in protest.

“Xiao,” Venti cries, twisting as if he can escape the curse. His hat is lost, blown away in the wind, and his hair has come loose from its braids, flying around his face.

“Barbatos,” Xiao whispers. “I never thanked you, for saving me that day.”

Venti pauses, for a second, stunned into silence.

“Thank you,” Xiao says, over the voices in his head. “Thank you.”

Baal only looks at him solemnly, and Xiao stares back at her. They exchange no words, but Baal just nods, once, the simple gesture conveying everything he needs to know.

Xiao holds her gaze for a few more seconds, turning back to find the point of Zhongli’s spear resting above his heart.

Zhongli's face is twisted in grief, yet his blade still hits true, sliding into the hollow space between Xiao's third and fourth ribs.

Xiao chokes, the whirl of wind around him finally dying out. His legs buckle and he falls ungraciously, feeling gentle hands grasping at his clothes as he does.

Somewhere, Venti is screaming his name.

The wailing inside his skull is dissipating, and near the edges of his sight, Xiao can make out swirls of color. At first, he thinks they are the archons, and his failing body cannot see the details of their faces. Then, he recognizes a blue that does not belong to those in the present.

“Rest,” Zhongli whispers, as Xiao fades. “Rest, Alatus.”

And Xiao does, letting himself fall into the embrace of the Yaksha's, who are only becoming clearer, even as Xiao dies.

~

637 years later, a scholar strolls through the bookshelves of Sumeru's most famous academy, searching for a piece of information that could support her thesis.

She turns into a lane labelled Mondstadt: The City of Freedom, and begins to scan the titles, careful to replace everything exactly where she finds it.

There are two other travelers within the small space between the bookshelves, and they're talking to each other, quite loudly.

The scholar frowns. No matter how foreign these travelers are, the rule of silence in a library should be universal.

The first traveler, a tall man with golden eyes and umber hair that falls to his lower back flips another page in his book, completely ignoring his companion. A jade spear is strapped across his back, and the scholar thinks idly that the weapon looks more like a piece of art, with great wings of green jade shattering outwards from the main spike.

The tall man's companion is quite short, with yellow cat like eyes and evergreen tufts of hair, a pink pearl necklace slung loosely around his throat. His boyish grin seems quite misplaced.

It only takes the scholar a few moments to figure out why.

A few months ago, the scholar had studied ancient folklore of Liyue. Among them was a tale of several Yakshas, the last of whom had supposedly been buried beneath a statue of himself, on the highest peak in Liyue.

The man standing before her looks exactly the same as the grainy photo in the text. However, in the scroll of lore, the last Yaksha had worn a fierce scowl across his features, nothing like the one that stands before her now.

"Come, Zhongli," the should-be-dead Yaksha says, tugging on his friend's sleeve. "Baal is waiting for us."

"Baal can wait a while longer," the taller man says, turning the page of his book a while longer, which the scholar now sees is a copy of The Ruling System of Mondstadt: Grandmasters and Cavalry Captains.

"You said you wanted me to learn more about Mond, didn't you?" the taller man continues. "Besides, I am quite intrigued as to exactly who this 'Kaeya' is, the one you keep referencing."

The yaksha frowns. "Kaeya," he says. "Diluc's brother."

At his companion's blank stare, the yaksha says. "I'll remind you later," he chides. "We really must be going, Zhongli."

The scholar startles, embarrassed that she eavesdropped for so long. However, she still hears what the tall man says back.

"Fine. Let us go, Venti."

[sepiadice]

DiceJar Campaign 0.1: A Slippery Slope (2020/01/03)

So I return to the mighty throne of the GM Screen! To pull the strings, interpret the weavings of fate, mold the world to my whims and desires!

However, I’m going from a module, namely Crypt of the Everflame, made famous by Trix’s adventures. So I’m treading old ground, though with fewer players, and only one returning from that adventure. The better part of a decade has passed since I played it, so plenty of details should’ve left the veterans.

The reason I’m playing out of the module is as a sort of learning experience: Viewing box text and published adventure design so that it may help develop my original adventures. As for why I chose this one: I really like the opening premise. New young adventures thrown together deliberately for their origin story. Often players get focused on making an exciting backstory that they forget to make what happens at the table be the most interesting part of their life. I think it’s charming.

It’s an element/theme I want to incorporate in future campaigns.

Anyways, how will the tomb dive go without Team Pesto?

Cast

Mogui (IndigoDie): A Hedge Mage for a Lord Grey. Essentially a living lawn ornament. He helps take care of the Lord’s menagerie. Sole repeat player of the Module.

Bernard ‘Bean’ Dipp (NavyDie): Still just a child, but his father is (supposedly) suffering polio, so young Bean needs to become the man of the house. GM of the campaign I just finished. Revenge time?

Yot (LimeDie): A traveling mercenary slash adventurer nevertheless being pulled into things because some players struggle with direction. Player is a vetran of an Improv club Navy and I were also members of.

Delilah Dunford (VermilionDie): The unruly daughter of the local snobby nobles. Roguish interests and talents. Player is also from my high school days, but not the High School game group.

Game Master (SepiaDie/Me): Everyone and thing else. Nervous wreck caught in his own head. Attended a High School once and participated in a college Improv Club.

Session One

I failed to change any proper nouns like I wanted, but I also avoided needing to say anyone’s names, so there’s still time.

There’s an immense backstory I summarized, because it was too long for me to read out and I can’t trust players to read.[1] Kassen is a town that evolved out of a hold built by a guy named Kassen, a soldier turned adventurer. One day, he went to fight an evil band of… bad people. Kassen succeeded, but succumbed to injuries taken. He was entombed in a crypt, where an eternal flame was lit. Every year, the mayor rides out to bring back a lantern lit by the flame to bless the town to survive the winter. Every couple of years, town youths are sent instead as a rite of passage.

This is one of the rite of passage years.

The mayor first meets with Mogui, a lonely mage working for one of the town’s two noble families. The mayor awkwardly stumbles through his invitation, which Mogui gladly accepts.

Next, the Mayor finds Bean waiting in the market square. The mayor, again, stumbles through his invitation, which Bean seems rather confused by the semantics of, needing to be specifically told not to just wait in the town center for two days but to come back on the actual day of departure.

Yot is found in a tavern, and attempts to talk a big game as the Mayor asks him to join the adventuring party. I still need to force a firmer connection between Yot and the town of Kassen, as my original plan of Yot belonging to what once was Kassen’s band of mercenaries was sunk before I could work it in.

Delilah pops up from behind the Mayor as he’s on his way to her family’s manor, and she eagerly joins the quest.[2]

Thus is our party arranged!

Two days later, at the predetermined time, they walk into the market square and I gently prompt them to give physical descriptions of their characters. Delilah is described as having slightly asymmetrical dark hair, while the rest focused more on height and relative ages.[4]

Mogui arrives with some sort of bipedal creature. Indigo didn’t actually know what he intended the creature to be, so I’m going to assume it’s a chocobo until gently corrected.[5] Everyone promptly forgot about it, even though it supposedly was following them.

The four mingle for a bit as I lost focus trying to recenter myself and review the next step. I tend to let my players just fill time until they get bored of their scene. I probably should work on keeping a good pace with the plot, but I also don’t want to step on their fun. It’s a difficult balance, especially if there’s no NPC handy to gently snark at them to move forward.

The bells of the Church of Polyhymnia[6] ring in the noontime.

The townspeople, dressed in blacks and other dark clothing, start to form a crowd around our adventurers. The mayor emerges with an old pony pulling a cart of supplies. He distributes backpacks to the adventurers, gives a prepared speech,[8] and sends our young heroes on their way.

Mixed into their supplies is a fourth of a map that, at an actual table, is supposed to be a real piece of paper torn and distributed to the players. Since we’re not in the same room and split between two states, I instead alluded to the paper in their bag for them to ask about, while also prepared to gently drop the detail if the players don’t engage. Pivot and roll!

Initially the torn map pieces are overlooked, and the party walks south, into the Fangwoods, following a trail that starts well-worn, but progressively fades.

A few hours into their hike, they come upon a fallen tree. Three orcs emerge from behind it, and initiative is rolled.

I overlooked a mechanic I was supposed to employ, a problem I had throughout the session. The module imbedded vital instructions mid-paragraph in the description, which means I overlooked having the players roll to disbelieve when they land hits or are hit. I did read the module in advance, though, but it’s easy to forget the details, especially details hidden away like that.

I’m a terrible note taker. In school, if I was taking notes, then I wasn’t paying attention to the lesson because I was focused on writing. This also made me a terrible stage manager. Half the reason behind these write-ups is to get the information down and in circulation in my memory because I’m not able to mid-session.

What I should be doing is reading (or writing) the module, and making a bullet point list of the bare mechanics. I sometimes do similar when trying to learn new systems.[9]

Delilah climbs into a tree to shoot arrows at one of the three Orcs, the other three taking the ground battle.

The orcs are quickly defeated, their corpses fading away. What a curious event that I’m sure has no explanation to be uncovered in the future. An utter curiosity.

At this point, the party finally pauses to ask if they know where they’re going.

Ah, time for pay off.

At this point, I describe how they’d been following a shrinking trail, but soon they won’t have it to rely on.

I’m asked to post the list of supplies to the text chat for them to pour over. A careful edit of the description of the map is needed, and I do so.

The party discusses the supplies shortly, and someone looks at their part of the map. I tell them it appears to be a fourth of a map.

NavyDie shrewdly asks if they’re all the same fourth of a map. He likely learned from the time I gave my players descriptions of dreams then later threw some wood blocks at them not to take paper for granted.[10]

I confirm that they each have a different fourth of the same map. So they jigsaw puzzle it, and Mending is cast. Now they have a single map, and a burned spell slot![12]

They follow their map for the remainder of the day. The sun began to set, and the party needed to make camp.

When the opportunity arises, players will want to roll dice, because rolling dice feels good,. So everyone rolled for the survival check meant for one.

Bean, our ranger, was the only one who failed. I punished him by having him punch a hole in his tent. Everyone goes to bed, though Yot elects to take watch for a few hours, with no intention of waking anyone to take a shift after him. He chose enough time, and made the proper check, to spot a wolf investigating the border of the campsite before slinking off.

Yot decides to increase the length of his watch a little longer. So he was still awake when the wolf returned with three friends.

New combat! Yot shouts to rouse his allies, succeeding in waking Bean and Mogui, who come out of their tents to assist. No one thinks to go wake up Delilah, so she gets to sit out of this combat.

A few rounds occur, with the lead wolf eventually knocking Yot down and mauling him a tad. Mogui uses magic to scare off the other two, but lead wolf stays intent on his objective:[13] food.

The wolf makes his way into the camp, takes a mouthful of food, and skedaddles. I declare the end of combat. Bean buries the remainder of the food,[14] and everyone goes back to sleep.

With the morning arrival, and the completion of a long rest, the journey to Kassen’s Crypt continues.

The map leads them to the shore of a large lake on a misty morning, the grey skies and fog obscuring the horizon. A bandit lays dead on the beach. Our protagonists investigate the body, and find signs of an attack by a massive serpent. The body also has a sword and a wallet of gold on him, but they are left as the body is entombed into a shallow, sandy grave.

Travel continues, and they crest a small hill overlooking a serpentine valley, within which rests Kassen’s Tomb.

This then proceeds into my second big mistake: I overlooked the acrobatics check hidden with the descriptions and had my players roll directly on the failure table. Again, the table carefully set apart drew my eye. I’m learning! Poorly!

Still, someone ran into three different trees on the way down, so at least it was amusing, if unnecessarily punishing. I’ll quietly retcon away any damage taken in apology at start of next session.

Down the overly slippery hill, a small stable’s worth of dead mounts await: two horses and three ponies, the horses long dead, the ponies a little more recent. None the same day our party arrived, however.

A description of a fancy rune in the doorway’s keystone is given, and the session ends, exploration of the dungeon saved for the next session a fortnight later.

As usual, the session was characterized with me being stressed over keeping it running and attempting to follow the script of the module. The few times I’ve managed successive sessions has hinted that I’m able to settle in as things go on and the players figure out the table dynamic. I’m mostly confident I’ll figure it out.

While I am learning the value of boxtexts,[15] modules still invoke a sense of containment on me. A fear that if I, as a GM, stray too far, I’ll accidentally break something. I don’t enjoy scripts, that’s why I did improv. Scripts means you can make mistakes that need course correction.

But I’m playing with friends, we’re learning to be a cohesive performance troupe, and hopefully this will turn into a podcast. For the future.

Until next time, may your dice make things interesting.

-

[1] I’ll grant them the benefit of the doubt that they’re literate. [2] I’m seeing a combined Trix and the Sorceress[3] from her party. I’m going to have fun with that. [3] Indigo says her name was Makenna. [4] Which will make the process of creating sprite pawns for them slightly more difficult. I’ll ask them on the discord for physical appearances when I’m done writing this. [5] Were it not bipedal, I might’ve steered him into making it into a riding jackalope. They’re… kinda my pet fantastic beast. Usually ridden by mail carriers. [6] Originally the Church of a Pathfinder Deity, but I’m transplanting the module into D&D Fifth Edition anyways, so might as well sneak the details of my setting[7] into the margins. Helps everyone’s already just human. [7] Is this canon with the abandoned Genesys campaign? You decide! [8] When I have something to read, the mayor loses the stammering and uncertainty he has when I’m doing it off the cuff. This is because I’m not awkwardly trying to do things off the cuff. [9] I should have a file that’s basically Maid RPG Lite floating around due this same habit. [10] The one time I planned for my players to ‘cheat’ and show each other the notes I gave them, and the clowns kept the notes to themselves. You literally cannot rely on anyone to do anything like they should.[11] [11] I’d say you can trust players to make things harder for themselves, but return to footnote 10. [12] When I played through this module, I arrived after the mayor distributed the backpacks, and the party already had investigated their maps. So I don’t know how this puzzle was solved then. I also don’t remember the Orc encounter. [13] Behind the screen fun: while I rolled three times fairly, I applied the single success to who I wanted. For narrative reasons. I often play favorites in this manner. [14] Sure. [15] Along with listening to Dice Friends streams/podcast.