Description: The Lost Post started as a signpost at the corner of Broadway and Tinkers Road - Broadway being the main road that runs through Tangent and Tinkers Road being one of the main streets to find all sorts of shops - a place always full of travelers. The intersection also has the highest number or “arrivals” into Tangent. The street names are no longer visible, having been completely covered by boards tacked to the main post to which all manner of various parchments have been glued and tacked into place. Those parchments bear the names, messages, and sometimes sketches of individuals that have been lost to Immoria.
The post has grown over time and now measures a full two meters tall and wide forming something of a miniature wall at the intersection. Behind it, an elderly woman, Clio, has set up a small shop selling parchment and ink, and for a small fee will write a message for the searcher. She also has a magical quill that will draw a small portrait of the lost person from the memory of the searcher. After the fee is paid, the quill must draw the blood of the searcher as he or she focuses on the person they are seeking. The quill will then float over the parchment drawing the portrait in a sort of dark red ink that also appears to be impervious to water or sunlight. Clio, is also willing to write the requested memory using the quill, if an additional fee is paid.
Whether the Lost Post is ever successful in reuniting those that have become lost in Immoria is up for discussion. There are many stories that claim that upon reading the message, the lost suddenly find themselves standing next to their distraught friends somewhere within the city and back on the Last Post, a piece of parchment suddenly flashes with fire and is gone. There are far too many layers of parchment to give these stories credence, or perhaps there are just that many lost within Immoria.
Description: A modestly sized wooden structure positioned at the corner of Broadway and Tinkers Road positioned behind the “Lost Post.” This shop is owned and operated by an elderly woman that goes by the name of Clio. Upon entering the shop, visitors tend to have a moment of disorientation because it feels as if the shop is larger on the inside than the outside, but the feeling quickly passes. The shop itself has windows along the front of the building displaying many tomes of varying names, but all of them seem to be related to historical events in some capacity. Many of them are about people, events, and places within Immoria itself. Filling the rest of the shop are many bookshelves both freestanding and along the walls. These are likewise filled with all manner of historically inclined books and scrolls. These, however, expand the subject matter to the world at large.
Within direct view of the front door at the back of the shop is a counter that appears to also double as a writing desk. Behind it is a door that leads to Clio’s living area.
Description: Clio is an elderly woman with dark salt and pepper hair that is mostly white, and soft, handsome features. Her dark eyes having a “knowing” expression to them, and those that meet her all mention that they felt like she knew them before they uttered a word.
She is always happy to talk to those that patronize her shop, and once the conversation turns to that of history, the corners of her lips break into a small smile that reaches all the way to her eyes. She always has a faint flowery scent about her that is simply pleasant without being overpowering or distracting. She walks with a steady and almost youthful stride as she shows her customers about her shop or walks them out to the Last Post to post their message.
In the evening, once she has closed the shop, she can oftentimes be found at the Filthy Lilt listening to the stories of the performers on stage, and has been known to occasionally take a seat on stage to tell a story herself. She often accompanies her story with light strums from a lyre to punctuate her story, or provide a melody to help carry the feel of her story.
True name: One of the 9
Landmark: The Lost Post / Clio’s Stationer and Bookstore
Description: Oral storyteller, griot, and historian, Saga sits outside The Dough/The Rise/The Bake/The Bread, entertaining the crowds with her ever-changing stories. No one quite remembers how old she is, and she speaks as though she has lived through all time. Every tale she spins is different. If yesterday was all about the pride of the foolish Hero, then tomorrow will be his humility and triumph. A resident of the Eddies, Saga tells stories nonlinearly. Sometimes she will tell six different endings to the same story, putting even the most established historical events in dispute. Sometimes she tells history from the perspective of the greedy king, then his downtrodden subjects who never wrote their stories down. She interprets and reinterprets the story as she tells it.
Those brave enough to join Saga’s storytelling may tell rival tales or satirize Saga's strange tellings. Every once and a while, a small group of people tell stories together while chewing on their yeasted loaves, with Saga watching in glee. They sing and dance together, as if it is a game to be played. It is at this moment that her face fills with delight, lit by the yellowish glimmer of the bakery. She clasps the hands of her companions and closes her eyes: “Tell your stories! Of Bargetown’s riots and flame, of Tangent’s illustrious shops, of the hidden delights and dangers in the Warrens!”
But sometimes Saga sits alone, by the darkened shop when no crowds have gathered. She plays her lute quietly, singing of all the peoples long forgotten, washed away in Immoria’s waves. Only she knows their names, their languages, their laughter, their loves. And she waits for them to come back and tell their stories. And she waits.
Noor is the museum curator for The Fore. Although they think of themselves more as a caretaker or shrine keeper. They spend their time at the cramped, little desk, furiously writing tiny descriptions with their ink pen. They are sixteen years old, skinny with a short frame. They sit before an open tome, scanning the pages for stories of the past. They listen to Saga’s and Clio’s stories with rapt enthusiasm, memorizing every little detail. They have brown, almond skin and usually wear a thick pair of white spectacles. And they have a gift: any little thing, even trash long forgotten, has a story nestled inside. As soon as their hands touch any object, its story immediately enraptures Noor. It has made life hard for them. Touching any little thing throws them into a trance, envisioning the life of an object. From those who held and cherished it, to those who used it for terrible violence.
Noor spends much of their time inside. Though they love the adventure of finding something new, their gift has costs. They like their indoor life, sharing it with any migrant who calls The Fore home, for a time. They have learned to master their gift, to touch a pen or a book without overwhelming their senses. Yet theirs is a quiet, slow-moving life.
Noor does fear one thing. In Immoria, transformation is a part of life. What happened to the past curator, the mysterious fellow who left all of these riches? Is Noor’s fate the same? They spend their time appeasing the shrine's protector, but with some trepidation. Noor can can still hear the sloshing of its massive legs in the silt, this monster that defends their home.
The ramshackle building sits atop a hill of debris, overlooking everyone below. Any Warren knows to kiss the sign at the door before entering, “Take one thing from be Fore, and one thing only.” Inside is a curious museum, overcrowded with hundreds of objects. Each thing is delicately preserved amid the chaotic space. A small description is handwritten and tagged to each little artifact. These riches were left by a mysterious, long-gone curator, for all to see and take.
Outsiders, curious about the Warrens, come for a taste of slum tourism. They get a ridiculously overpriced bowl of chowder from Crowder’s, and meander their way to find their very own treasure. Through word of mouth and print, they wander to The Fore, seeking a trinket from the river of time.
To the Warrens, The Fore is more sacred than commercial. The Fore is a shrine to things forgotten by time, artifacts of a bygone age. The Fore is part museum and community center. Any poor and downtrodden soul can wander into The Fore. They may take that which calls them for free, a little piece of history, an ephemeral object for their own personal archive. It may be as simple as a pocket watch, or as all important as medicine for a dying loved one. Although many leave and try their luck, others stay as keepers of the shrine. They take care of others in this small halfway house, staying so long as there is room.
The Fore’s curator, Noor, is all but sixteen years old. Yet this orphan is wiser beyond their age. They write tiny descriptions in ink by candlelight, their eyes glazing over as they grasp the object firmly. Noor was born with a gift to tell an object’s story only through touch. They add to The Fore’s illustrious collection, finding tiny coins or scraps of fabric, treating each artifact with respect and love.
Yet life is no fairy tale. There are those, particularly those too rich to mind their moralities, who try to steal from The Fore. Although even Noor, and any smart Warren, knows why no one should ever, ever take more than one thing.
Rising from the wet, fertile silt is something-once-human. Legend tells that it was once an old man who gathered all the treasures from the dried riverbeds. Now it is more beast than man, dwelling deep in the tunnels. If ever human, it is now a terror. Once awoken by the shrine’s disturbance, this monstrous protector brutalizes anyone in its path. Once appeased by the return of the river’s gifts, the monster is gone.
Neighborhood: The Warrens
Address: Anywhere in the Warrens you can see the Fore, overlooking the whole neighborhood. It sits at the border of Brasspool and The Warrens.
The Belles of the Ball looks like a fun adventure! That reminds me that I see need to bring to the table Colin Cummings'/boyproblems' game "Boy Problems." It's a Lasers and Feelings heist game about Carly Rae Jepsen, and I know some fans who'd love to play.
Landmark: The Lost Post
Description: The Lost Post started as a signpost at the corner of Broadway and Tinkers Road - Broadway being the main road that runs through Tangent and Tinkers Road being one of the main streets to find all sorts of shops - a place always full of travelers. The intersection also has the highest number or “arrivals” into Tangent. The street names are no longer visible, having been completely covered by boards tacked to the main post to which all manner of various parchments have been glued and tacked into place. Those parchments bear the names, messages, and sometimes sketches of individuals that have been lost to Immoria.
The post has grown over time and now measures a full two meters tall and wide forming something of a miniature wall at the intersection. Behind it, an elderly woman, Clio, has set up a small shop selling parchment and ink, and for a small fee will write a message for the searcher. She also has a magical quill that will draw a small portrait of the lost person from the memory of the searcher. After the fee is paid, the quill must draw the blood of the searcher as he or she focuses on the person they are seeking. The quill will then float over the parchment drawing the portrait in a sort of dark red ink that also appears to be impervious to water or sunlight. Clio, is also willing to write the requested memory using the quill, if an additional fee is paid.
Whether the Lost Post is ever successful in reuniting those that have become lost in Immoria is up for discussion. There are many stories that claim that upon reading the message, the lost suddenly find themselves standing next to their distraught friends somewhere within the city and back on the Last Post, a piece of parchment suddenly flashes with fire and is gone. There are far too many layers of parchment to give these stories credence, or perhaps there are just that many lost within Immoria.
True Name: Forever on the wind
Neighborhood: Tangent
Landmark: Clio’s Stationer and Bookstore
Description: A modestly sized wooden structure positioned at the corner of Broadway and Tinkers Road positioned behind the “Lost Post.” This shop is owned and operated by an elderly woman that goes by the name of Clio. Upon entering the shop, visitors tend to have a moment of disorientation because it feels as if the shop is larger on the inside than the outside, but the feeling quickly passes. The shop itself has windows along the front of the building displaying many tomes of varying names, but all of them seem to be related to historical events in some capacity. Many of them are about people, events, and places within Immoria itself. Filling the rest of the shop are many bookshelves both freestanding and along the walls. These are likewise filled with all manner of historically inclined books and scrolls. These, however, expand the subject matter to the world at large.
Within direct view of the front door at the back of the shop is a counter that appears to also double as a writing desk. Behind it is a door that leads to Clio’s living area.
True Name: Immoria’s history
Neighborhood: Tangent
Name: Clio
Description: Clio is an elderly woman with dark salt and pepper hair that is mostly white, and soft, handsome features. Her dark eyes having a “knowing” expression to them, and those that meet her all mention that they felt like she knew them before they uttered a word.
She is always happy to talk to those that patronize her shop, and once the conversation turns to that of history, the corners of her lips break into a small smile that reaches all the way to her eyes. She always has a faint flowery scent about her that is simply pleasant without being overpowering or distracting. She walks with a steady and almost youthful stride as she shows her customers about her shop or walks them out to the Last Post to post their message.
In the evening, once she has closed the shop, she can oftentimes be found at the Filthy Lilt listening to the stories of the performers on stage, and has been known to occasionally take a seat on stage to tell a story herself. She often accompanies her story with light strums from a lyre to punctuate her story, or provide a melody to help carry the feel of her story.
True name: One of the 9
Landmark: The Lost Post / Clio’s Stationer and Bookstore
Person: Saga
Landmark: The Dough/The Rise/The Bake/The Bread
Description: Oral storyteller, griot, and historian, Saga sits outside The Dough/The Rise/The Bake/The Bread, entertaining the crowds with her ever-changing stories. No one quite remembers how old she is, and she speaks as though she has lived through all time. Every tale she spins is different. If yesterday was all about the pride of the foolish Hero, then tomorrow will be his humility and triumph. A resident of the Eddies, Saga tells stories nonlinearly. Sometimes she will tell six different endings to the same story, putting even the most established historical events in dispute. Sometimes she tells history from the perspective of the greedy king, then his downtrodden subjects who never wrote their stories down. She interprets and reinterprets the story as she tells it.
Those brave enough to join Saga’s storytelling may tell rival tales or satirize Saga's strange tellings. Every once and a while, a small group of people tell stories together while chewing on their yeasted loaves, with Saga watching in glee. They sing and dance together, as if it is a game to be played. It is at this moment that her face fills with delight, lit by the yellowish glimmer of the bakery. She clasps the hands of her companions and closes her eyes: “Tell your stories! Of Bargetown’s riots and flame, of Tangent’s illustrious shops, of the hidden delights and dangers in the Warrens!”
But sometimes Saga sits alone, by the darkened shop when no crowds have gathered. She plays her lute quietly, singing of all the peoples long forgotten, washed away in Immoria’s waves. Only she knows their names, their languages, their laughter, their loves. And she waits for them to come back and tell their stories. And she waits.
True Name: She who watches the flood of time.
Person: Noor (they/them)
Noor is the museum curator for The Fore. Although they think of themselves more as a caretaker or shrine keeper. They spend their time at the cramped, little desk, furiously writing tiny descriptions with their ink pen. They are sixteen years old, skinny with a short frame. They sit before an open tome, scanning the pages for stories of the past. They listen to Saga’s and Clio’s stories with rapt enthusiasm, memorizing every little detail. They have brown, almond skin and usually wear a thick pair of white spectacles. And they have a gift: any little thing, even trash long forgotten, has a story nestled inside. As soon as their hands touch any object, its story immediately enraptures Noor. It has made life hard for them. Touching any little thing throws them into a trance, envisioning the life of an object. From those who held and cherished it, to those who used it for terrible violence.
Noor spends much of their time inside. Though they love the adventure of finding something new, their gift has costs. They like their indoor life, sharing it with any migrant who calls The Fore home, for a time. They have learned to master their gift, to touch a pen or a book without overwhelming their senses. Yet theirs is a quiet, slow-moving life.
Noor does fear one thing. In Immoria, transformation is a part of life. What happened to the past curator, the mysterious fellow who left all of these riches? Is Noor’s fate the same? They spend their time appeasing the shrine's protector, but with some trepidation. Noor can can still hear the sloshing of its massive legs in the silt, this monster that defends their home.
True Name: Seer of the Hands
Landmark: The Fore
Landmark: The Fore
The ramshackle building sits atop a hill of debris, overlooking everyone below. Any Warren knows to kiss the sign at the door before entering, “Take one thing from be Fore, and one thing only.” Inside is a curious museum, overcrowded with hundreds of objects. Each thing is delicately preserved amid the chaotic space. A small description is handwritten and tagged to each little artifact. These riches were left by a mysterious, long-gone curator, for all to see and take.
Outsiders, curious about the Warrens, come for a taste of slum tourism. They get a ridiculously overpriced bowl of chowder from Crowder’s, and meander their way to find their very own treasure. Through word of mouth and print, they wander to The Fore, seeking a trinket from the river of time.
To the Warrens, The Fore is more sacred than commercial. The Fore is a shrine to things forgotten by time, artifacts of a bygone age. The Fore is part museum and community center. Any poor and downtrodden soul can wander into The Fore. They may take that which calls them for free, a little piece of history, an ephemeral object for their own personal archive. It may be as simple as a pocket watch, or as all important as medicine for a dying loved one. Although many leave and try their luck, others stay as keepers of the shrine. They take care of others in this small halfway house, staying so long as there is room.
The Fore’s curator, Noor, is all but sixteen years old. Yet this orphan is wiser beyond their age. They write tiny descriptions in ink by candlelight, their eyes glazing over as they grasp the object firmly. Noor was born with a gift to tell an object’s story only through touch. They add to The Fore’s illustrious collection, finding tiny coins or scraps of fabric, treating each artifact with respect and love.
Yet life is no fairy tale. There are those, particularly those too rich to mind their moralities, who try to steal from The Fore. Although even Noor, and any smart Warren, knows why no one should ever, ever take more than one thing.
Rising from the wet, fertile silt is something-once-human. Legend tells that it was once an old man who gathered all the treasures from the dried riverbeds. Now it is more beast than man, dwelling deep in the tunnels. If ever human, it is now a terror. Once awoken by the shrine’s disturbance, this monstrous protector brutalizes anyone in its path. Once appeased by the return of the river’s gifts, the monster is gone.
Neighborhood: The Warrens
Address: Anywhere in the Warrens you can see the Fore, overlooking the whole neighborhood. It sits at the border of Brasspool and The Warrens.
True Name: Shrine of Memories
The Belles of the Ball looks like a fun adventure! That reminds me that I see need to bring to the table Colin Cummings'/boyproblems' game "Boy Problems." It's a Lasers and Feelings heist game about Carly Rae Jepsen, and I know some fans who'd love to play.