Abominations of Solus


*A Courier from Malidor’s Outpost arrives at the tavern late at night. He is tired, surly and annoyed. He speaks to Phi.* “Is Aden Corso here?” *Discovering that he is not, he curses under his breath, muttering about not being willing to carry this letter any longer. He pulls an unsealed letter from his satchel and slams it on the counter. A waft of sparkling dust plumes from his hand. The interior of his satchel is covered in the stuff. It seems to be trailing from the letter. Trying to dust off his hands, and muttering curses he leaves the letter on the bar, unsealed, and departs fed up and unpaid. The letter reads thus:*

To the motley collection of Adventurers formerly of Malidor’s Outpost,

Perhaps you do not recall me, or perhaps your numbers have experienced great turnover in your warring with the reptilian races and a thorough introduction will be necessary. I am Cassiopeia, Elven Astrologer, excellent fortune teller, dazzling lover and pathetic archer. We met briefly in Isenhjem when the great storm blocked all my beautiful sky jewels from view. Though a rag tag bunch you were, you were very effective and have left quite an impression on me collectively, though individually…some of you more than others.

After the dissipation of the Oathstorm, eager to leave the colds of Isehjem and follow some better guiding stars, I resumed my wanderings of nearly a decade. Curious of you all, my feet led me to the tavern at Malidor’s Outpost at the time the constellation of the great hunter filled the Northern skies. I passed an enjoyable evening in your company and had not thought to seek you out as a band again. Not until the return of the Esperbrand Comet.

For you short-lived races, and those with eyes turned earthward, I do not expect you to know of the Esperbrand, and I will not discuss it’s power and place in history here. I will simply say that of all the heavenly bodies I have studied—and I have studied them all—nothing approaches the stunning beauty and danger of the Esperbrand. As soon as I marked it’s returning approach in the skies of our shard, I immediately returned to Solus, the home I had forsaken, for all other matters, all past quabbles are now made trivial.

And this is why I call to you, those who live to tell the tales of Gorgons, those who sang and drank in the Outpost Tavern, and those who saw Isen fall last time the veil was pierced. For the Esperbrand is piercing it again. You are those I trust to see the dangers which I foresee, to stem the leaking of magic and mend the tear in the veil.

Do not let my love of stories or my joyful manner of verbal sparring mitigate my meaning. You are needed. The stars tell me so. Come to Solus and aid me.

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