Mimic Decision

In The Veil of Vesir, deep in the tunnels of the Roots, the party encountered a cult in worship of the god of slaughter. After a deadly fight, they found themselves sitting among the bones, surrounded still by the cult's strange shrine to Mor'tel, a sense of wrongness permeating around them.

Tormun set to work to use what little he had on-hand to create a heartwarming broth in offering and cleansed the area of its corruption, leaving instead a lingering aroma of comfort in the air.

This is a glimpse into how one brings the power of the Prime Seasoning out of the kitchens and into the world.

The Prime Seasoning - God of chefs and culinary arts.

For adherents of the Prime, mise en place is a daily focusing ritual; for Tormun, it is also the foundation of tactics.

This brotherhood of chefs share their new ideas and compete regularly to elevate their dishes to the height of the Prime Seasoning. Practitioners of this brotherhood are generally employed in the finest dining establishments and the homes of nobility, but many take pride in working in more down-to-earth establishments, sharing the Prime Seasoning with all the peoples of Vesir.

Last week, The Veil of Vesir had a showdown of faiths between our seraphs and followers of Mor'tel they met in the Roots of the world. Tormun took particular issue with the death cult, so let's take a look at one of the deities he throws his faith behind:

Alitain - The God of Soldiers. Lord of The Line. Alitain has no priests, only sergeants. No aspirants, just recruits.

In a world torn apart by bloody conflict on a regular basis, Alitain is the heart and soul of the soldier class; a connection in the haze of battle between the common people of all of Vesir.

Alitainian rituals do not ask for victory. They do not seek even the survival of the soldier.

Alitain's devotees conduct rituals that beseech their lord for the safety of their family and loved ones. They forgo asking for their own protection, instead offering themselves to their god for the sake of those at home.

Alitain's symbol is traditionally made of wood, preferably the wood salvaged from the broken weapons of fallen soldiers.

It is carved into a bare hand, scarred and rough, holding a weapon -- usually a spear, though the weapon choice is often personal by the followers of Alitain, as they tend to match the symbol to the weapon they prefer to carry.

(not a cross-campaign team-up!)

In The Veil of Vesir, chat's guidance and Morella's roll with Fear led our party to an encounter with cultists of Mor'tel...

Mor'tel is a democratic murder consciousness; the god of slaughter, and the name of the city of the damned in the afterlife, the god is a blending of all the beings who inhabit the city. While often credited with all things involving death, their aims are only furthered by the cult's intentional cleansing of Vesir, and worshippers believe that the greater the offered sacrifice -- in challenge and in spectacle -- the larger the piece of Mor'tel that they will become.

Conversely, there are sects of Fungril who worship Mor'tel as the progenitor of many of their cities, as they tend to sprout up on mass casualty sites.

Mor'tel's symbol is a series of black stars casting shadow onto a field of white -- typically, obsidian cut and laid into silver.

Bhelu Osveta -- Hearthborne Human, Seraph, and the party's heart: a widower seemingly curiously empowered by his devotion to his lost love.

Whether he's traveling the countryside healing along the way, or tending to wounded bar-fighters in the city alleys at night, he's a true protector and student of the people; warm, thoughtful, and Farm-Strong 💪🏻

But now that he's been on the run, framed by a noble for a bizarre crime, he seems to have a peculiar inner voice occasionally chiming in…

Morella Tremel is a Fungril (Syndicate) Rogue who has meticulously built a steady life out of making herself indispensable to those able to -dispense.

But a few hours away from work has cost her all of the curated comforts of home and stirred an ever-rising anxiousness deep in the mush of her once-bones. With everything stalk-side up, all the connections in Vesir might not be enough to clear her name.

You can find the artist on BSky HERE !

I mean, the bandits. We're looking for the BANDITS.

Tambid Nimblespring the Simiah Ranger; from the jungles of the Pactlands to the city of Gaia'tel, he's a guide in our Veil of Vesir party who is always up for adventure and making a bit of coin!

He also likes exploring, camping, and specifically short walks on the beach.

"'Damned' is a big word. Come, let's have some breakfast."

Tormun "Braise" "Iron-Shell" Gault -- a Galapan Seraph; follower of the Lord of The Line, Alitain and the Prime Seasoning. Once a city guard, now on-the-run, he's here to teach us all the true meaning of mise en place!

Stalk the artiste HERE!

Azaelya's beastly danger-kitty form is ready.to.GO!

-- and so is our third episode of The Veil of Vesir! Boats, spiders, and stews, oh my; watch as the group navigates the rising tide and, with a little help from chat, escapes some hot water!

We're going Live at 5:30 PST (today!) on Twitch for our third session of Veil of Vesir, a long-form actual play campaign that asks the audience to help us figure out what side we're on in a war-weary world -- say that ten times fast! -- full of political intrigue and the power of chat's suggestion~

We're apparently rolling very poorly health-wise tonight -- so have a resting Azaelya beastly form on this stream-less Wednesday as we all follow their lead~

Character art by a member of our newishhh Daggerheart campaign! (You can stalk him HERE !)

This is Azaelya Windsmile, a dino-tacklin' Warden of the Elements Druid who recently embarked on their Water Walk pilgrimage [:

We recently started our first Daggerheart campaign and the second session is up on the 'Tube!

We've been asking the audience to help with some choices -- and I'm not entiiirely sure all of chat has our best interests at heart…? Hmmmm, side-eyeing some of you! ;]

Jan: No, lass, I’m not hurt and the limp is not new. I’ve had it as long as you’ve known me. 'Tis a wooden leg you see. I was smuggling crackers into Waterdeep several years back. The Council had outlawed them due to near constant cracker-related debauchery, you see… I couldn’t let THAT pass. The Council had sealed off all ports and mobilized the army to stop all cracker entry. The city was shut down, martial law was declared and people huddled in their homes for fear and want of crackers. I could not stand idly by while such persecution was visited on the somewhat innocent peoples of Waterdeep. So I smuggled crackers. Salted, unsalted, and herb-riddled alike, it mattered not. All came in and all were consumed in secret orgies of cracker-related tomfoolery. Then came the unpleasant business with the hanging. I hadn’t seen Picklefeather’s eyes bulge like that since that Wyvern kicked him in the ba… (Oops! Innocent elvish lass, have to watch the tongue) uh… in the arm. (Yes, that will do.) The moral of the story is, you reap what you sow. I still own a warehouse full of saltines. I send a box each year to all my friends. Seem to have fewer friends each year as a result, but that's to be expected.

Aerie: What does that have to do with your wooden leg?