The Ebon Cabal
The Curious Summons
When the scroll was delivered to you, scribed on the finest of parchment, you knew this was no mere writ or scribbled missive. The penmanship was strong and bold, the language written in your native letters, and was sealed with a ruby-red dollop of beeswax, bearing only a teardrop cabochon of ebony pressed into it.
The scroll named you an Adventurer, proclaimed you had been chosen for a great Destiny, and beckoned you to travel to a town along the Delimbiyr River, near the slopes of Star Mounts. A meeting time was set for the Midwinter Holiday, and an itinerary laid out, with a promise of free passage should you accept to make the journey.
And the promise was made in good faith, the red seal with its black ebony tear was all that was required to make the trek. Instructed on routes to take, and contacts to make, the trip was like a walk down a country lane. And regardless of meeting ship captains, caravan commanders, or ferry masters, the scroll-bearer was always well-met with courteous nod and immediate conveyance.
So now you find yourself in the town of Loudwater, late in the month of the Hammer, with Midwinter Revel approaching, with growing anticipation warming you against the cold caress of the snowy air….
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