balance mod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
balancemod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
balance_memes2019-03-04 07:57 pm
balancemod) wrote in balance_memes2019-03-04 07:57 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME #3: WELCOME TO NEVERWINTER
 WELCOME TO NEVERWINTER Click for a full view. BACKGROUND Neverwinter, the most powerful city in all of Faerun, the Jewel of the North. Located on the northwestern part of the Sword Coast, it boasts a long history as an outpost at the once termed "Savage Frontier," where today it enjoys the wealth of free trade and craftsmanship the world over envies deeply. Its population is as diverse as it gets; turn a corner to find a mercantile street owned and operated by Dragonborn. Elves give lectures in the open libraries. Dwarves bring their findings from the Sword Mountains to turn into wondrous steel edges. And, for the most part, the city thrives on a sort of organized chaos. Temples dot the landscape, offering praises to Tyr, Oghma, and Helm, among a pantheon of other faiths. Pickpockets keep their hands busy, blacksmiths warm their irons in the fire to strike with heat. The Lord's Alliance has an unprecedented presence within Neverwinter, and all swear fealty to the most powerful man in the world: Lord Artemis Sterling. Few in the world know of the Bureau's presence and what it tries to accomplish, but the young lord is one of the Director's close confidants. It may seem odd for someone so concretely detached from the world of politics like Madame Director herself to ever engage in the local political administration of a city, but when you're as big as Neverwinter, it's good to have a friend or two in a high place. They keep out of each other's hair, up until the point that they don't. Today is that day. She receives a message in her office chair, bearing the seal of the Lord's Alliance. She can't help but roll her eyes at the sight. She has more important things to attend to- but she reads it over regardless. Lucretia, (Dragons are a colloquial term among the merchants of the Sword Coast, meaning gold pieces.) A powerful mage has enchanted Neverwinter with a powerful geas. This might be something you're looking for. Magic that powerful can't be ignored, but neither can Arty's pomp. "You didn't need to sign this as Lord Artemis. I swear, that boy would kiss his own statue if he thought it'd make him more venerable." 1. THERE MUST BE MORE THAN THIS PROVINCIAL LIFE A. TRY THE GREY STUFF, IT'S DELICIOUS. DON'T BELIEVE ME? ASK THE DISHES!Things are quite amiss when you first make your way into Neverwinter, and it's about 8 or 9 p.m. There's an air of unease at every corner, and several of the most busiest streets have been all but abandoned, aside from people scurrying from one building to another to go about their business. Doors are locked tight, windows are barred, and everywhere you go, signs of chaos are left in a trail of unhappy circumstance. But wouldn't you know it? Someone's left the light on for you. One lone tavern is well lit in the midst of a city-wide lockdown. The front sign reads "The Rockport Inn," and it's just about the only place that seems alive tonight. Opening the door, a scene unfolds before your eyes like you've never seen before. Aside from the striking, (possibly familiar) image of Tom Bodett behind a bar counter, everything in the tavern that shouldn't be moving is... alive? The tables are floating in the air, the silverware is performing cabaret on the nearby fireplace, and some of the town's most carefree mages and adventurers here are living for it. Tom smiles at you, "Welcome, travelers. See you've made your way to the Rockport. Take a seat, enjoy the show." You'd think it'd be dangerous here. An errant knife flies forward, as a nimble and smart witted bus boy catches it in mid air, using it to carve out a nice haunch of meat to be served this evening along with the musical entertainment. Looks like Faerun's found its own version of STOMP, as the chairs have assembled themselves up against the wall on a raised platform and are currently attempting a very piss poor version of "We Will Rock You." Settle in, it's going to be a pretty wild night. B. WE TELL JOKES, I DO TRICKS WITH MY FELLOW CANDLESTICKS As you wind your way through the roads of Neverwinter, you come upon a small shopping district. It seems nondescript and completely not suspicious enough — given the unsurprising range of goods for sale, the inhabitants going about their day, the way they stare at the ground while fumbling past each other, the way a man at the nearest stall hands over the item you've purchased with his gaze purposely fixed anywhere but you. Completely normal. What isn't normal, however, are the signs plastered all over the buildings, seemingly inviting you to take a closer look: NOTICE TO NEVERWINTER CITIZENS That's only one of them. There are countless others, covering an inexplicable range of topics, and perhaps most alarming of all, the second you start reading one, you are physically incapable of tearing yourself away from the sign's message. It's almost as if someone's used magic to charm you into stopping and examining every random item Atlus wrote a dialogue for and programmed into the game, and your fellow party members are starting to get concerned. You'll be stuck there until you finish reading — or at least, until someone is kind enough to smack you upside the head and knock the spell right out of you.  C. COURSE BY COURSE, ONE BY ONE, TIL YOU SHOUT 'ENOUGH! I'M DONE!'After your BIAS rations run dry, and after you've managed to pull off a few odd jobs, it's finally happening — you've got the coinage to purchase yourself a nice dinner for once. And after whatever the hell was in those rations, you are good and ready, and Neverwinter looks to be the place that knows its cuisine, and does it well. You find yourself outside of an, on the surface, snappy looking outdoor sort of dining setup, half empty, but bustling with a curious sort of energy all the same. As you're seated and as you place your order, you get the distinct sense that the people who are feeding you seem kind of ... dead inside. Like they're going through the motions of cooking, serving, brewing, and other general restaurant tasks. It becomes very obvious why once you're served your dinner, as well as a piece of paper and pencil. That steak and potatoes you ordered? They taste like lemon tart. The cold, frosty mug of ale or whatever beverage you feel like imbibing? Absolute essence of lemon tart. That grey stuff you ordered out of desperation? Lemon. Tart. That lemon tart? Yes. Even the lemon tart. After choking down the meal you were so looking forward to, you direct your attention to the piece of paper. Mandatory survey, the man who brought you your had dinner said. If it isn't filled out, he might make everything taste like wet socks instead. The paper reads: I AM THE GREAT MAGESTO, KING OF NEVERWINTER. LOOK UPON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND let me know what you think in the comments. 2. THERE'S ALWAYS A CHANCE, DOCTOR. AS LONG AS ONE CAN THINK.You arrived in Neverwinter with the basic premise — that someone is holding the city hostage with magic bordering on the absurd — but what you lack is information about the man himself. The one behind it all. Aside from his ability to make food taste like wet socks, apparently. It's time to meet with some citizens.  D. OH, IS HE IN FOR A SURPRISE!Your first target for questioning is Lord Artemis Sterling, Grand Vizier of Neverwinter. Arty is, to be frank, a pompous shit with Neverwinter's very reputation and safety on the line — he will listen to your questions, of course, but don't expect for him to provide answers without him demanding something in return. Specifically, he would like for you to locate and dispense of a gaggle of enchanted brooms that have been plaguing the nearest marketplace. Someone — whoever is controlling them — managed to sharpen the tips of their handles to something actually dangerous, so, for once in this city, it's not completely outrageous. Or, maybe it is. "Death by broom impalement would be a rather idiotic way to die, so do take care to avoid that," Arty says, as you're escorted out the door. Best of luck with that. E. YOU MUST MEET HIM, HE'S JUST THE CHAP FOR THIS Wandering down a random alleyway will lead you to Tomes and Tapestries, an expansive, multistoried bookstore. Lorkoris, a half elf, is the owner. He's sort of a softie at heart, and even though he has a wide variety of tomes for sale, his true claim to fame in Neverwinter is an impressive collection of Faerun romance novels. If there's a fiction trope, no matter how ridiculous, he's got a romance novel for it. His most popular fiction stock is the Longing, Loving, Good series by Iden Firehell: they're all stories of star-crossed lovers, cursed by the inexplicable magics of a demon, or a jealous wizard, or gods knows what else. Asked about the series' popularity, Lorkoris will simply smile, saying that perhaps the people of Neverwinter enjoy commiserating in their fiction. Seems a bit odd to him, he'd say, considering most tend to read to escape reality, but it couldn't hurt to take a book home with you, right? By the way, the books are enchanted, too. The simple act of reading a magical effect will transfer it to you as well. We'd like to keep this open-ended, you're free to have whatever magical effect you'd like, but here are a few thematic suggestions: ○ Whatever you touch turns into a stone for the next hour. That includes people! They'll be turned into an Adonis, or Fabio-like caricature of themselves, for peak romance novel cover purposes.  F. SHE HAS A TALE TO SPINFinally, your investigation leads you to Oracey, a Halfling fortune teller who decided she already has a half-pun name for the job, so she may as well work it. Have a seat, traveler. For five Dragons, she'll gaze into the raging flows of time, like a river with one destination in the end, before you both and discern one fact about your future. You'll also get a lecture on how one should always take care with that knowledge. Changing one's future isn't as easy as it sounds, and should death be reaching your doorstep before you're ready, the knowledge of that fact alone may not be enough to save you. At least, that's how it would be if Oracey was good at her job. In every fortune she divines, in fact, the exact opposite will occur. Did she say you were about to come into some wealth very soon? Prepare to be mugged the next alleyway you look down. We encourage creativity with this one! 3. CALL TO ARMS (CHARISMA, INTELLIGENCE): THE CELEBRITY PLAGIARIST By this point, the Bureau of Balance has provided some frank feedback on the grey stuff, chased down some murderous broomsticks, and identified the culprit behind the absolute Relic-enhanced chaos gripping Neverwinter. It is, of course, none other than famed author Iden Firehell, a man utilizing the Trickster Tome — a book that enchants inanimate objects with the whimsies of whatever the holder writes into it — to gather as many genuine reactions to his bizarre magic twists for his next bestseller. That's right, Neverwinter, you've been PUNK'D. SLAM DUNK'D. When the news reaches the Director, she leans back into her chair with a sigh of a thousand years of utter suffering. "Not that lout again." You approach Firehell at his latest book signing in front of Tomes and Tapestries. He is a man of about 50, silver-grey hair down to his shoulders and a charismatic, all-too-knowing twinkle in his eyes. Before him, amidst a table of fresh copies of his latest work, "Meet Me at the Dancing Diner," sits a large hardcover notebook, open to a page somewhere in the middle. Scribbles, drawings, the most obnoxious of trickster curses line the pages. There's your target. Do you have the wits about you to take it from him? 4. A NOTE FROM YOUR MODSHello everyone and welcome to the third Balance TDM! Here are some quick notes for you: The purpose of this TDM is to give you an idea of what our missions look like. It already assumes that your character has been initiated into the Bureau of Balance, and has been sent out on their first mission to retrieve a Grand Relic. To that end, threads in this TDM will not be considered game canon. What we're aiming to do with Balance is a little different from your typical DWRP game. In a typical setting, the mods set up some NPCs that have limited contact with you, the player, under a very structured set of conditions. For example, The Director is one of those NPC types, as are her two counterparts (Davenport and Garfield). However, in Balance, we'd like to take a moment to instill something early on as we run through the first TDM of the game. We've listed a few NPC's up there to give you a flavor of their personality and what their look and feel constitutes. Those NPCs are completely pilotable by any of you, at any time. What we're looking to do is give you all a structure for adventure and seeing where you all can take it. It's part of our core value and how we'd like to see things move along. Be amazing- not just in the sense of being amazing to each other and to your characters, but also with your character choices in-game. The world is completely malleable and up to you to meld, mend, repair, or bust. In a nutshell, what we're saying is... go wild. It's okay not to ask permission for something cool you'd like to do. We've given you some outlines of events, but the story that you create as you thread these out is entirely yours. And we, as a mod team, can't wait to see what you bring to the table. blurb code by photosynthesis |
1a
Does—[it?, she would have asked skeptically, but the question cuts off when cold liquid splashes against her shoulder and neck and seeps under her collar. It takes a moment more to compose herself than Mòrag would have liked.]
Think nothing of it. Accidents happen. [Well, Ochako will get the benefit of the doubt to start with, at least. The taller woman carefully leans closer, her chair scooting over, more than a little eager to put an end to the mugging.] Please, take it. I'm not even sure what's in it.
no subject
Maybe it's just water?
[As her fingers just graze the handle of the mug, though... it swoops out of reach yet again! But not before splashing even more if its contents—on both of them, this time. At least it's... equal this time...]
O-Or— [COUGH! SPLUTTER!] —lemonade. Is that what you're drinking?
[Meanwhile, is that pesky mug... drifting down to sit on top of Ochako's head while she furiously wipes her eyes? Cursed.]
no subject
No. I'm drinking water. [Because Mòrag is bold and adventurous that way.] Since we'd been given a mission I... thought it best to refrain, until I knew more about this world's cuisine. It's rather alien to me.
[Well, roast meat is still roast meat, and leafy greens still seem to be leafy greens, but the plants and animals were all unknown to her. Mòrag tentatively holds out a gloved hand to the mug, palm up. That's what you did to animals that liked you, right? Maybe the mug would respond similarly.]
[Or if it reacted poorly, well, there couldn't be much more in it.]
no subject
Ow!
[She instinctively reaches up to snag it, but NOPE! Down toward Mòrag's hand it soars, where it gently plops itself right into her palm... in a decidedly s-mug fashion. Does it care that it's nearly empty? Of course not. If it had a tongue, it would be sticking it right out at the girl blinking down at it.]
I knew it! It does like you. [Not that she's JEALOUS.] Maybe it just wants you to... have a fun time? To try new things!
[Like LEMONADE. Drink this sugary beverage and enjoy this Neverwinter Chuck E. Cheese.]
no subject
[Mòrag... honestly isn't sure what to do from here. She's not much of an animal person or... animated object person, as it may be. She just... keeps her hand out, supporting the mug, not unlike that cat with a butterfly on its paw.]
It's... certainly insistent. [The soldier woman frowns thoughtful at her newly acquired mug. She's normally not one to drink, even off duty (which was largely never). Her caution here was largely because everything was an unknown...] You called it lemonade? You're familiar with it?
no subject
[...Oh? Oh. Ochako suddenly looks up from the mug, blinking at this woman as this unfortunate thing finally click into place.]
Wait. [An explanation as to what it IS can wait a second; for now, she leans forward, eyes widening in shocked surprise.] You've never tried lemonade? Really?
no subject
Well, no. I'm afraid I've never heard of it. [Alrest has weird names for food, okay.] I take it that it's common where you're from.
no subject
Mm-hmm! [she confirms, nodding enthusiastically.] It's sweet, but... tart? Like lemon candy. It's really, really good on a hot day.
[The mug hops a bit, careful not to lose any of its remaining liquid in the process. It's... agreeing with Ochako? Because hell yeah, it is delicious.]
You should definitely try it!
no subject
I... suppose, if you speak so highly of it. Though I confess, I don't have much of a sweet tooth.
[The cup was still resting in her palm, and Mòrag probably looked as awkward as she felt, bringing it close enough to sip from. Bonus awkward points, since drinking from something that clearly had some fraction of sentience was... odd.]
[And really, it wasn't bad. And tasted kind of familiar.] This is... what did that Nopon call it? [The soldier pauses, searching for the word.] Ah, yes. It's similar to sourlip drink.
no subject
But... ah, what a name??]
S-Sourlip? [Pfft.] That sounds like lemonade without< any sugar? Or lemonade with way too many lemons!
[A Travesty, honestly, but she tries not to laugh as she imagines what that would even taste like.]
So... which one is better? Lemonade, or sourlip drink?
no subject
Lemonade, I would say. It's odd, but not entirely unpleasant, even if I wouldn't call it my favorite. I may just need time to adjust to the flavor.
[She sees you laughing about her world's culture. Honestly, the soldier can't complain at this juncture.] Anything the Nopon do tends to be simple to the point of eccentricity. Their taste in cuisine is... strange, to say the least.