DM's Note: KC will likely be late joining us this Thursday, and Vellios had some private business to attend during the group's downtime. As a result, KC and I have been exchanging emails to narrate Vellios's interactions with his mother, who had come to visit in Sharn. In addition to earning a Hero Point for great roleplay, KC has provided us with some compelling narrative! On the understanding, of course, that people can separate player and PC knowledge, here is the text of that interaction, lightly edited for readability: On the day that Vellios’s mother arrived in Sharn, a gnome from House Sivis with an officious look and a diffident air arrived at Ghallanda Hall bearing a tightly rolled scroll with a wax seal. “I have a message from Lady Rania of House Genro of Aerenal for one Vellios, son of Wyn, of House Genro. Is ... he ....” The gnome’s voice trailed off as Vellios approached. He sniffed haughtily and adjusted his vest before holding out the scroll as if seeking to avoid being soiled in its transmission. “A message for you ... sir. ” The gnome stressed the final word as if issuing it as a challenge, before turning smartly on his heel and striding out of the hall. Breaking the seal and unwrapping the fine parchment, Vellios read: Lady Rania, House Genro of Aerenal Requests the Pleasure of Your Company University Opera Club University District, Upper Menthis High Sun Refreshments and Hor D’Oerves Served Select Transportation Provided As a performer of some renown, Vellios’s mother was not poor. But this rather ostentatious display was no doubt the result of a wealthy patron—and, Vellios no doubt would suspect, his mother making a point about Vellios’s life choices. Sure enough, about half an hour before the designated noon appointment, a private sky coach stood parked outside Ghallanda Hall prepared to transport Vellios to the University District in the Upper Menthis section of Sharn. While Vellios’s friend Gnipity may have spent substantial time in the University District while conducting research, there was little to bring Vellios to this section of Sharn previously. Nevertheless, among the stately stained glass, exquisite stonework, and carefully groomed ivy, Vellios could not help but detect Elvish influences. The sky coach alighted before a large, domed building with oversized intricately carved wooden doors across its front. The Sharn Opera House, a seat of high society in Sharn, demanded that its viewer’s eyes lift upward toward its graceful arches and vaulted, gleaming dome. On one side of the building stood the Opera Club, a handsome two-story building with uniformed doormen flanking heavy double doors. Showing his invitation to one of the doormen, Vellios received a slow, careful up-and-down look from the uniformed man before the man provided a curt nod and a broad gesture to the door. Within, soft lyre music filled a vaulted atrium while magically illusory multi-colored butterflies floated about. A graceful female half-elf wearing a gossamer gown glided toward Vellios with a greeting smile. Reviewing Vellios’s invitation, the hostess directed Vellios to a table facing the atrium beside a tall stained glass window depicting performers from a multitude of famous Brelish operas. At the table, Vellios’s mother Rania sat, her posture erect and impeccable as ever, one hand of long, delicate fingers holding a fine china teacup as if it were an extension of her arm. Seeing Vellios enter, Rania carefully and silently replaced the cup on its saucer while holding her hand out to Vellios in greetings. “Vellios, child, how good of you to make the time,” Rania said. Her smile was perfect, her actress’s eyes gray and inscrutable to those who didn’t know her as Vellios did. “I received your message. I came to ensure that you didn’t do anything foolish while pursuing these ....” Rania trailed off and, for a moment, her implacable calm dropped as a barely perceptible shudder rippled across her shoulders. “Rumors,” she concluded, her eyes lowered. Vellios: Mother, you look beautiful as ever. I appreciate you taking the time to come here and visit. Now when have I ever cared about rumors? You and father have made it clear in your belief that I only care about myself. Do you think I get that from you or father? Never the less, rest assured I am not going to follow any rumors. I will let you in on a secret though if you would like to hear it? [perception roll is 28. I'm looking to see if she is nervous or how uncomfortable she is in this exchange] With his keen eyes and intimate familiarity with his mother, Vellios saw everything that her practiced actress’s exterior attempted to conceal: deep concern, and perhaps even fear. [KC: Perception is usually used for physical observation. You can use Insight to attempt to understand more of a person’s motivations.] Rania smiled wanly and politely at Vellios’s words, and nodded: “Yes, of course, my dear,” she replied. “I am always interested in hearing more about you and your ... activities.” Rania listened intently to Vellios’s words. Behind her gray eyes, Vellios could detect the flash of steely disapproval despite her steady expression. “You know that your father and I have always preferred that you maintained a more conventional lifestyle,” Rania said evenly. “But your life is, of course, ultimately your own.” She sighed and dropped her gaze to her teacup, the steam rising from the modest enchantment that kept the liquid perfectly warm. “Now, about these rumors you mentioned in your message; I need you to tell me what you’ve heard about your being ... a ‘son of Mab.’” Rania’s gaze rose from her cup to meet Vellios’s own, and for the first time, her expression showed genuine anxiety. Vellios: The secret is I am going to pursue finding out what this is all about, I have no choice. I have tried to ignore the voice that continues to come to me yet it persists. You would not have needed to come this all this way and follow up, I would gladly put this to rest if I could but your presence confirms that there is truth to this, that you know something. Not following this is no longer an option. All I ask for is the truth. Name your price if you must. I will change my name and you can claim I am dead, I will sign anything you want to sever all ties to the family or something else... Oh and speaking of my activities though, I think you will be happy to know that I have fallen in with a group of adventurers. A bit of a motley crew but good, genuine people. We even have a patron, House Kundarak...believe it or not, I have changed my ways. Look, I don't like the embarrassments I have caused you and father and I truly have turned things around or am making steps to do so. This thing with Mab, my "destiny" and what have you isn't good. Please help me. Just tell me what you know. To see if her response is a lie or holding things back [insight roll 22] If it is a lie, Vellois's response is, "No, please, the truth". If holding back, Vellios's response is, " I know there is more to that so please tell me the rest". [Persuasion roll 19 if needed] Raina’s brow furrowed uncharacteristically at Vellios’s words. “I had hoped it would not come to this,” she said. Her expression became ashen as Vellios described the voices he was hearing. “So it is true,” she whispered, almost half to herself. “I had thought it impossible.” She locked eyes with Vellios. “Very well, then,” she began. “It is time that you learned the truth—and the reasons why you must not pursue this matter any further.” “You know, of course, that we elves of Eberron are descended from the true elves—fey creatures whose own existence is the essence of magic in this world. The realm of the true fey, Thelanis, is one reputed to be of both surpassing beauty and menace.” “Eons ago, some true elves made their way here, to Eberron, settling first in Aerenal and then, in time, establishing settlements in Valenar, here on the continent of Khorvaire. With the passage of time, the bloodlines of the true elves became attenuated from their fey origins, with those closest to the original elf families—including our own—claiming some degree of nobility as a result. It was foolishness, really, as the differences between the ‘pure’ bloodlines and those more distant seemed largely symbolic and meaningless—a way to lord one’s own ancestry over others, and nothing more. Or, so I thought.” “In my mother’s family, there was a story—a legend, myth, call it what you will—passed down from mother to daughter of our family’s unbroken chain tracing back directly to Thelanis. It was said that the females of our family possessed great artistry and poise that traced to the noble houses of Thelanis itself; and that the males—well, that the males traced their line to a race of fierce warriors that guarded the realm of Thelanis; that these great warriors were among the most ruthless, vicious, and cunning; and that they formed the special shock troops to protect Thelanis from the most dangerous of threats.” “It all sounded like bedtime stories, really, and for the most part irrelevant; our family were performers, artists, and entertainers, not warriors. I paid the story no mind and my sisters and I would laugh at its retelling. When your father and I were married, I thought nothing more of it.” “But as I became with child with you, I fell gravely ill. The finest clerics and physicians of Aerenal could offer no assistance. I prayed for any relief. One night, as I attempted the trance of our people to rest, I heard a voice—at first sweet, then increasingly cruel.” “The voice told me that I had forsaken the chain of my family’s heritage and that both I and my child were to be punished. It said that I had failed in my duties to our ancestral line and that I must make amends.” “In desperation, I asked what I must do. The voice said that I must pledge my unborn son to the service of Mab, the fey Queen of Darkness. The voice said that he would serve in her army and do her bidding, or our family line would perish in agony.” “I didn’t know what to do. In our family’s telling, Mab is the counterpart to Queen Titania—the darkness to Titania’s light. But darkness is not inherently evil, any more than the light is inherently good. Where one exposes and reveals, the other shrouds and conceals; where one draws attention and heat, the other diverts and shades. It was said that the forces that Mab commands defend the fey realm, as well as this one, from forces from beyond—the stuff of nightmares, demons, fiends, and twisted things from faraway realms—that the sons of Mab stand as the vanguard of the snowy wastes while the Summer Court frolics in the sunshine heedless of the threats from which they are secured.” “But to be sure, with darkness come dark alliances, too. The dark creatures of Thelanis owe allegiance to Mab as the fey creatures of light owe theirs to Titania. To be a son of Mab, it was said, was to tread the path of the savage and cruel. For such is always the price paid by soldiers in war—to walk the path of madness.” “In my fevered state, I was prepared to do anything to protect you—to protect our family. I decided that whatever price such a pledge might exact would be worth sparing you from the pain that might otherwise befall you. And so I agreed; I pledged you to Mab.” Raina paused and looked down at her cup once more. “That night, the fever broke. The clerics and physicians declared it a miraculous recovery. I thought little more of what I took to be a delusion born of the fever itself. And I heard nothing more from that mysterious voice.” “As the years passed and you grew, I wondered at times about the differences you manifested—your disinterest in the arts; your furtive nature; your ... moral flexibility. But I attributed all that to your personal choices and nothing more. Quite frankly, if I took any measure of comfort from your vagabond lifestyle, it was that it took you away from Aerenal and all that entailed.” “About eight months ago, however, I heard the voice again. It said that you were a son of Mab and that the time had come to make good on the pledge—that Mab would claim what was hers. I was terrified. I demanded to know what that meant.” Raina drew a breath and looked up at the vaulted atrium ceiling, before slowly reciting: The son of Mab must now defend Against such things that dreams might end In lands of old, in lands of new The gates must seal and nightmares rend. In darkness Mab-spawn ever stalk Where mindless forms might rise and walk Though hour grows late, must choose his fate Among the eyes turned white as chalk. Dragon-spawned, yet so despised The lords beyond seek yet their prize A warrior’s task, no one must ask When kin slay kin and none deemed wise. Yet closer now, with ev’ry breath The threads of fate, the warp and weft, If choose his end, or choose his friends— The son of Mab deals only death. Raina shuddered as she stopped. For a moment, the room seemed to darken slightly and the gentle music in the background grew more distant. She looked imploringly at Vellios, and he sensed no deception or withholding in her words. “Please, Vellios. You must not pursue this further. It means death—for you, for your friends, maybe both.” Vellios stares off over the right shoulder of his mother as if he is looking miles away..." death for me, maybe, or the family line will perish in agony...do you believe it to be true and if so are you willing to face that? Father, Elora, the suffering? Even if you are, I don't want to look over my shoulder for the rest of my days or slowly slide into madness with the voice that haunts me.” Vellios stands and leans to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I must go and think on this news. No matter the outcome I want you to know I am grateful that you have given me answers that have filled many gaps in understanding who I am. I know this wasn’t easy for you. Ask the Undying Court if there is anything to be done if you haven’t done so. I will make a decision on how I will proceed with this in the next week or so.” At that Vellois stands and leaves. As he walks out through the doorway, without looking back Vellios says, “Please make sure to give everyone my love once you are back in Arenal” He then heads out on the street to take a long long walk and think. Three things repeat over and over in his head; family, friends, or Vellios. “One of these things will have to go”, he says to himself.
