The PC's all wake up in an empty field. The weather is mild. The setting is pastoral. None of them have ever met. They have vague memories about their pasts. Details to specific to explain much, and broad ideas. "I was educated very well in a time honored institution..." where, what was it called, what did you study? "Umm... magic I guess..."
"My mother Had a ornate bluebird pin with cut glass eyes, and enamel paint. she always wore a black wool shall. she said it kept her safe..." Where did you grow up, who was your father, were you well to do? "...no idea..." a stranger approaches and hands them this:
then he is gone.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
The clerical members of the sun cult, Sol'solis Mors'mortis, in the south eastern desert islands of the witches teeth survive in the most inhospitable of conditions. A simple incantation unique to the order binds them to the sun for their nourishment. This rite, preformed at morning sustains the sister or brother completely during the day, without any need for food or drink. It also prevents burns of any kind caused by the sun's rays.
Posted by The Cramp at 11:43 AM