The Odyssey From Nemkhasir [Roleplay Adventure]

[Samson Option 9652]

 

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRPiZJhtM9M

 

 

Throughout the taverns and inns, a figure came and sat. He broke up brawls and upheld the laws of the common-folk. Quaint, quiet, and obscure a figure as one could get, he left all who spoke with him with a question lingering his tongue. Where did he come from? The swarthy man often commented on the alien nature of wherever he traveled to. A calm and respectful individual, those who asked him of his origins learned only that he came from afar and had settled outside Nemkhasir.

 

A few travelers passed Nemkhasir, always to inquire if the peculiar man had passed the town. In fact, he lived within a complex of roots along one of the tallest woods in Laureh'lin Forest. He came out once a week to till the terraces outside of the walls. However, the latest traveler to pass found Nemkhasir closed and the tilled soil brittled and dried of all irrigation. The tree still stood, the roots entangled as if grasping a building in hand. The traveler went from tavern to tavern along the main road and spoke on what he saw. He drank and challenged all those who dared doubt his tall tale to accompany him to this same tree by Nemkhasir. What he described went thusly: The innards of the tree appeared like scarlet and turquoise mosaics with the smell of incense burning, an old hermit sat cross-legged inside deep in chant.

 

The storyteller harkened all from across the lengths of the continent throughout every inn and alehouse to come with him. Those who actually approached him on his jest and challenge and followed him would find the tree as such:

 

 

The first of your group grasped some hardened vines and swung them aside. The very drunkard you nonchalantly chided and accepted his heralding with either boredom or incredulity exclaimed in astonishment. You all look inside to find a very rustic room with a mere table in the corner holding up amphoras and other clay jars. The room appeared choked with a thick haze of incense, but you can see certain objects held up on the walls. Two spears are held upright and crossed at the upper space of the door frame. The head of an ibex, clearly preserved through taxidermy, is hung over the crossed spears and the door frame whole.

 

The whole group having stepped forward and deeper into what had been a natural niche in the under-roots of the giant tree turn to see your immediate surroundings tessellate and complete the entire form of the antiquated home you stand in. The last of your group brushes his hand roughly against the wall, expecting an illusion, but feels nothing but cold, coarse adobe brick. You appear to be stuck in this very home. The drunkard rushes out of the door and you eventually follow. You look into the distance, a mirage-like refraction can be seen as the landscape of hilly knolls spotted with light vegetation unfolds.

 

 

 

 

You look behind you and find that the room you exited is in fact part of a larger chapel structure. The beauty of it distracts you for a second before looking back down and in any direction.

 

 

 

 

You notice a flock of merchants staring at you suspiciously and bewildered. The braying of donkeys break their bewilderment and they turn their attention back to their modest load they are traveling with, trying to get themselves straightened out before resuming their travels. You appear to need some sort of direction, you choose what to do.

 

 

((OOC: I am merely trying to provide something fun for folks to do! Feel free to hop into this adventure and explore the wide world of imaginative story-telling. Likewise, feel free to follow the topic for updates and more. There is a button at the top-right corner to help you pay attention. You can easily say you get "into this adventure" and still play the character in-game!))

[Samson Option 9652]

 

I went from plucking myrrh from the bushes of an oasis to farming the rain shadows on the northern banks of Angren. A mighty trek I have gone through and may my feet be bereft of the calluses that have been worn into them on my thousand-more steps. I have fought for this Storm King and we have won, being one of the few brave enough to actually sally forth while most of these alien men chose to stay upon a bridge. However, it is those same men that feasted after the sally I participated in actually forced away the Petrine soldiers. I? I merely returned to my farms. Such is the life of an ascetic, may not I sing praises to stricken my heart.

[Glyc 234]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.