Roleplaying table top games make for great stories! The Envoys of Spark is a Dungeons and Dragons campaign created by Elyse T. Join hilarious and entertaining player characters on their voyage in an unknown world, as they try to accomplish an enigmatic mission.
The Envoys of Spark Chronicles are published every Monday! Check back for new adventures!
Check Out Part I of The Envoys of Spark
Check Out Part VI of The Envoys of Spark
Time to Come Clean
After gathering as much Solems as they could carry, the heroes departed from Miapolafa Shrine. They had uncovered the Etching of Riches, left in the care of the goddess, until Spark’s envoys would come looking for it. This Etching was dangerous and caused a madness of greed for all who used it- it had even attracted gangs of bandits to the area, putting Miapolafa pilgrims in danger. Kohmai had taken this Etching, as the only party member yet unfamiliar with the feeling of greed.
They sought to confront Tel Manian, the Trading Post manager who had urged them to visit the shrine, and who was obviously in league with the bandits in the woods. The heroes even had a prisoner who could verbally admit to paying Manian a cut of their muggings.
Regor III, displaying a rare weakness of the heart, took Manian’s children, a useful young lady and a boy, swimming in the ocean, where they would not hear the conflict.
Upon being presented with the facts, Tel Manian closed his house door on the envoys. Beatrice the Hobbit climbed the roof, while Kohmai broke the front door piece by piece. Inside, Manian had a last group of bandits who seemed unaware that their boss and entire gang had been defeated. Intimidated, they attempted to make an escape through a widow at the back of the house, where Virgil waited for them. A show of his fire mastery convinced the bandits to stay put.
Discussion divided and conquered the heroes’ enemies; Manian admitted to have helped siphon pilgrims into the woods near Miapolafa Shrine in defence against the bandits, who would have robbed him and his Trading Post instead if had he not helped them. Manian, as much a victim of the Etching of Riches as the bandits, had done it all to save his family’s way of life.
The Flame Queen?
Without Manian, the bandits caved. Medea, Wizard of the First Order, used a magical illusion and appeared before them as a flaming silhouette, a ghostly voice commanding them to abandon their life of deceit and to join genuine followers of Miapolafa.
The bandits listened to the orders, fully convinced, but not for the reason Medea had expected.
“Are you the Flame of Dunnri? The Queen?”
Medea’s magical appearance suddenly wore off in surprise. She scrambled to cast her spell again and turned her flames back on as though with a switch.
“What? Um…well yes! I am Queen Flame of Dunnri and I order you to be part of the new official Order of Miapolafa. You will live at the lighthouse and work to restore it, you will protect the trading post and lighthouse keepers, you will live honorably from now on!”
“Um…ok ma’am,” one of the smarter bandits said, “but you can’t be the Flame of Dunnri, she’s getting married, she’s away in northern seas!”
“I a currently visiting the area, of course!” Medea’s lie fell flat, the bandits looked grim.
“It’s not an arrangement that can be diverted,” they said, leaving the matter aside. They were of course nonetheless impressed by someone who was on fire and fully willing to obey orders.
The envoys traveled back to Miapolafa Lighthouse, where they left the lighthouse keepers and their statue, certain the bandits had been appropriately disciplined into serving the goddess from now on. They joked about the Order of Miapolafa they had just founded as being the start of a great force that would be recognized hundreds of years in the future.
Rotator Poetry
The heroes were told upon their first visit at the Trading Post, that nearby lived a Sea Witch on a floating island. They asked the Waveweaver to confirm.
“A mass does seem to float from the north-west to the south-east of the shore near here along with the tides. The area will be a shallow swamp doused in saltine water, yet thick with vegetation,” the Waveweaver announced.
Kohmai was eager to visit this Sea Witch, who apparently could turn his beloved crate covered in spider refuse into something useful.
They traveled through the night, and were expecting to arrive before sunrise.
Supper was being served by Beatrice, who adores cooking, when the Waveweaver alerted the group of a problem.
“Foreign object obstructing rotators, please dislodge before departure.”
“Well Frell,” swore the Hynerian, who knew that as the best swimmer, he would be the one to eat his meal cold.
Regor III climbed overboard and headed for the ship’s rotators, but with the darkness and high waves, had trouble finding the problem. With some assistance from the other party members who shouted orders down at him, Regor finally found the correct rotator and removed what was obstructing it; a sealed bottle containing a message.
Once back on deck, as Regor twisted the water out of his clothes, the excited Beatrice opened the bottle and read the contents:
In time to hear your ephemeral speech
I came to be, coughed out of oblivion white
In time, we learned to trust your heading
I came to the world for what remains of you
but now…
Interpretation of poetry aside, this prompted some questioning on the part of the envoys. They returned to the Waveweaver’s console and asked some important questions:
“Do you recognize this writing?” The group demanded.
“The verse is not part of my internal knowledge banks or archives. The ink, after a short analysis, seems to be made of ash.”
“So you didn’t write this? So who did?” Medea asked.
“Someone who could not keep it,” the Waveweaver logically answered.
The hobbit took over the questioning when the rest of the envoys were disappointed and discouraged by this first answer.
“Waveweaver, were you always Waveweaver? Where do you come from?”
Silence reigned as the Waveweaver seemed to be composing an answer.
“I was Above. I explored and came to this world by error. My original state could not be sustained. Spark made me Waveweaver so that I could survive. Memories from before I was Waveweaver were archived within, currently inaccessible. “
The new juicy information reinvigorated the heroes.
“Above, that’s where Spark is now? How do we get there?”
“You only go down,” the Waveweaver said, returning to riddles. Regor lost his patience and left the room.
‘But how can we communicate with Spark?” Virgil wondered.
“Spark sees and hears what he must,” the Waveweaver confidently said.
Domain of the Frogs
The Waveweaver reached the Sea Witch’s floating island while it was still dark, and the group decided to venture out into the swamp by morning, when the tides would be lower and daylight could guide their way. They would need to travel with a small boat, as Kohmai could not stand safely in salt water, and as Beatrice was too short to walk through the swamp alone. Regor could however safely swim around freely, so long as nothing vicious lay waiting beneath the calm swampy surface of the water.
Paddling through the swamp was not too difficult, but they traveled slowly and carefully, watching for dangers at every few meters.
The approached an old sign, sticking out of the ground between two thin bendy trees:
“Beware, Very Polite Frog Nest Ahead”
Suddenly, a frog as large as a barrel emerged from the water. It looked at the group intently, then rose on it’s hind legs and performed an elegant bow.
