Your character stepped through a transitional space -a doorway, an archway, a gate of some kind and instead of being where they should be, they’re in a very fancy, very well cared for
manor. The door is, of course, also very locked. With its three floors and various rooms, there’s certainly plenty to explore. It has a kitchen, dining room, sparring room, library, study, apothecary room, celestial observatory, and even a room with various
preserved specimens, some not as dead as they might seem.
The flying eyeball, making plenty of food and tea for guests, is happy to inform them that there is a way out, but you must find the books with a single letter on the spine to arrange them into the keyword that serves as an exit from this place. Please be wary while wandering, there’s
mimics, aggressive flying swords and books, and a few other traps and beasts that will choose aggression over conversation littered about the house. Oh, also, please refrain from stepping outside. The purple haze surrounding the house has a way of tuning people around and making it hard to breathe.
Good luck!
(Inspired by the first Candlekeep Adventure, the keyword out of the manor can be whatever anyone wants it to be in their thread, maybe it’s as simple as ‘Liberty,' maybe it’s as nefarious as the name of someone important or a secret no one should know. It’s magic in here, go wild!)
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thememeterialplane2026-02-26 12:03 pm
Rhyt Sonom | D&D OC (Roguelock pact with the Raven Queen)
Well, this wasn't where she was supposed to be...but it was where she was now, and the door was definitely locked. Not her most favorite scenario, but she'd figure it out eventually. Or the others would come for her.
She's just decided to pick left first when the door opens again, and someone else steps -or stumbles- through. She does try to grab the door, but it's like always being too far away when she makes for it, and it closes behind her new companion.
"Damn...and I was hoping I could just grab it. Oh well. Hey there, welcome to a locked magic house!"
The Orb
It's a shiny orb and she's a rogue: of course she's going to pick it up. It feels tingly in her hand...and on her forehead where the band of intellect sits on her brow. Hopefully, it wouldn't interfere too badly with that. It's the feeling of someone else that she feels like a pinprick on the back of her brain that has her looking around. She hadn't been alone of course, but that felt weird enough to investigate.
The Manor (let's goooo, rogue time!!)
"What do you mean 'locked magic house'? This was meant to be a tavern." Her eyes narrow slightly, though she arches one brow in confusion. "How did we get here? And who are you?"
Why ask one question that has a definitive answer when you could ask several unrelated ones all at once? At least Rhyt will be able to tell that Amelia means her no harm when all the knives on her person stay in place and her hands don't move toward any of them.
Orb!!!
"Are you alright? You shouldn't have touched it recklessly like that. At least it didn't explode or set off a trap," his deep baritone carries the same emotions as his thoughts; affectionate worry that she might have been hurt and curiosity as to what the orb is. He leans over a bit, peering at the orb in her hands.
"...What is it?" If he can hear her thoughts, he hasn't noticed yet over his own.
Richard St. Vier | Swordspoint - Groceries
St. Vier isn't a coward...but he does know when he's underprepared for something. Without looking at the person he's been sent to shop with in this alien market, he turns with every intention of leaving. Someone else could do this, surely.
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It's rare for Alec to be the more street savvy of the pair but with his particular experience of alien worlds, he's uncharacteristically serene at the idea of doing a grocery run. With rare speed, he takes the swordsman's wrist and guides him towards the neat rows of empty shopping carts instead.
"Here, we need one of these," he explains cheerfully. "It's a hand cart, see the wheels?"
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He does sigh, however. And take the cart, as much as he has to physically will himself to do so. This was going to be very annoying, wasn't it?
"Yes, I am familiar with carts." And he trades his useless list for it, the slip of paper ending up in Alec's long fingers instead.
"Why is everything so colorful in here?" Even as he asks the question, he knows the answer; the same reason anything is colorful: to be eye-catching. Still, he was happy enough to hear Alec supply whatever answer he liked.
James "Durham" Baxter | Original (based on a verse called The Order)
The Blue Orb
Awfully bad news to be mindlinked, Durham thinks to himself, as he looks at the person standing opposite him clutching a blue orb in their hand. And of course that thought doesn't just stay in his own head. He seems as though he might feel slightly apologetic for that much, though it's surprisingly difficult to dig much deeper than that yet. As though the tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed man might not be completely without his own defences in place for uninvited guests into his grey matter.
But he does allow his name - James, not Durham - to be drawn forth. That and his age - somewhere in his early to mid 30s - and the fact he works at the British Museum in a rather boring role.
"Hello, there."
Robert Robertson III | Dispatch
Groceries
His usual method of grocery shopping is from a vending machine when he has a spare moment. One look at him makes that fact extremely believable. He's still in his SDN uniform; shirt too big and half-untucked, facial hair that's not quite hitting 'fashionably' unshaven, a slender frame that looks like it could use some tender care and a tiredness in his eyes that goes way beyond not having slept enough for 15 years or so.
But here he is, pushing a cart around, a rotund black and white chihuahua sitting up in the space that's usually reserved for small kids, nestled in a blanket that definitely looks pretty new (thanks, Chase).
"Hard to believe by my peppy demeanor, but... I'm about an eon ready to be done with this so we can do something more exciting. Like, I don't know, watch paint dry."
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"I don't know, I bet I could have a wonderful time watching paint dry." His light, almost whispery voice is heavy with humor. "It looks about the same as everything else."
Never let a blind joke go by when he could snatch it up instead.
"We could make a fame of it. You point me in the generally right direction, and we'll see what I grab."
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Maybe he should be more reverent, but the man's joking about his sight and Robert doesn't believe in tiptoeing around shit that makes people uncomfortable, for some reason. Like a blind guy can't have a sense of humor? Clearly this one does. He likes that.
"I'd offer you Beef, the dog, as a guide dog but he'd leave you high and dry as soon as we hit the meat or cheese section. Anyway. What do you need from me to make this a good time? Because if you really want to make a game out of it, I gotta think up a scoring system on the fly."