Meet the Portents
An excerpt from the College of Lore's "Catalog of Prophecy, vol 2"
When the harvest moon is red, and full as a straining udder;when the crisp autumn apples fall like hail;
when the threshing's been done and the last hay baled;
the column of flame shall reach into the sky, choking out life with ash and dust; burning our lands with raining fire. The she-demon will raise her flaming brand, and in her hellish halls, a chance, they'll stand.
Find the fated; fear the fiend. The tiny twain; the tiefling; the bearded lady. Protect the harpist, bring him safely to the frozen land..
...and in her hellish halls, a chance, they will stand.
Plot points/Scenes
Finding Reggie
- Reggie, a noble notable that donates regularly to Billy's theater company, becomes a suspect; he has been kidnapped, and replaced with a vrock
Themes
Structure
Exposition
The candlelight flickered, as per usual. With early autumn sundowns, the food hall was lit by a battalion of tallow candles stuck in every nook and cranny of the old, stone keep's feast hall. Again, as per usual. But the dancing shadows cast by the (admittedly) smokey tapers reeled their way across a scene that was anything but usual. Anything but usual, at all.
Food was strewn about in such a chaotic pattern that Trayvon, who had thoroughly enjoyed Professor Kirkgaard's mathematics lecture on pingala sequences. It was terribly over his head, but he figured the gist of it was, there is a natural sequence to shapes, such as leaves and other natural things, as they grow. Trayvon marveled at how this seemed to be true even when the growing things had been smashed onto the floor by a large lady spontaneously seizing in some sort of apoplectic fit while she was in the middle of eating. Trayvon also marveled at how many of the people who sprung into action to help her had looks of wistful disappointment carefully concealed behind masks of efficient professionalism. But when the old cow (Trayvon had never liked her very much) snapped her eyes open and a blue glow came pouring out, he sat up in interest...a feat the dinner's attendees had yet to do. She began intoning a rhyme, which Trayvon scribbled on a cloth napkin with charcoal, that turned out to be confirmed by The School as a true, for real and honest-to-goodness prophecy. It is a rare thing, indeed.
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