I was just an innocent raccoon when I was taken. Now I’m a magically altered experiment.
On a journey to a once thriving pillar of civilization, now a dry set of ruins.
Following some groups of cult pilgrims (and fellow adventurers) for weeks to the ruins we need to cross a long bridge high in the mountains that leads across to a wide mesa.
Blocking our way at the end of the bridge was a large pile of rock, that wasn’t all rock. One of our companions (a flying demonish sorcerer) landed on top to attach a rope to help others climb over.
However, a rock that was not a rock stood up and babbled something and attacked many of the group.
The sorcerer bloodied retreated and we all attacked the rockish troll like creature, defeating it.
We all survive to continue our exploration of the ancient ruins.
Thank you so much!
I’ll remind you at the start of the next session, but Rock-It finds a small, translucent-blue stone that he’s pretty sure has some sort of magic about it
Fray entry
Mary at the orphanage always said I’d amount to nothing.
Gods, I hate it when she’s right.
I can’t believe I got caught pickpocketing that noble. It wasn’t even my fault. Stupid Wild Magic. I sneezed and turned the guy into a potted plant. The town guards, for some reason, did not think that was nearly as funny as I did.
So now I’m on some stupid quest to save water… or a city… or maybe a god? Honestly, I wasn’t paying that much attention when they were letting me out of jail.
We’ve been traveling for weeks now. It’s me a demon, a raccoon that gets very upset if you call him a raccoon, a dancing drow, a dwarf, a druid, and a cat with the temper of Father Mike back at the church.
It’s weird… but I kind of fit in.
Today we finally got close to the fucking city. There’s nothing out here. No water. No game. Nothing. Just endless dead land and one suspiciously large boulder sitting off the path.
Since I’m the only one who can fly, I went up to take a look.
Turns out it wasn’t a boulder.
It was a troll.
The stupid thing stood up before I could even react, and next thing I knew I was riding a troll that was very unhappy to see me. It smacked me so hard I thought I was dead. Seriously, I hadn’t even done anything yet, and it was already trying to kill me.
Well… screw that.
I used its own shadow to pin it in place long enough for everyone else to finish it off. I’d like to say that was all part of the plan, but mostly I was trying not to die.
I really wish we’d brought a healer. Everything hurts, and I’m not sure how many more fights like that I can survive.
But I have to survive.
Because one day I’m going to walk back into that orphanage, look Mary right in her stupid elf face, and tell her she was wrong.
“Amount to nothing,” my ass.
I’m going to bring water back to the city or god or whatever it is we are doing.
After finding a blue glass bead, I took a short nap. When I awoke, I discovered that other members of the party were walking across the bridge with a heavy wind blowing.
Harder to see them across the bridge so I may be mistaken. It looked like they were talking to others, then went to a building to the south east a ways. The winged one jumped off the edge taking someone with them. The winged one flew, the other did not.
Looks like they are setting up to camp for the night. Guess I’m staying here until morning, then I plan to join them.
Wanda for the week (look, I did it, i crossposted… You’re welcome)
Well, that was a painfully eventful day. We *somehow* managed to survive walking across a bridge, and talking to people 
. These are skills one may require in building an entertainment capital, so here’s hoping we grow into the roles. It’s unusual to lose my footing but desert sun and wind gusts aren’t my usual venue. I’m just glad we planned ahead with equipment and coordination among friends. Without one another, I’m afraid the band’s future song telling of fun misadventure would be an ode to those we lost. Thankfully Curd is not a giant splat next to a tiny Teddy dot. I suspect the danger might have kept Rock-It from crossing…that one seems he’s been through some things. Maybe we should’ve checked in before we left? Eh, he will find us, that’s what notes are for!
About talking to the people. Um, you know how cults and, really, control at all disturb me. I’ve given up a lot more than a stage to not become a follower. Something feels really different about them, not just that they are singleminded decaying not-undead-but-undying folks.
This doesn’t feel like something they want to escape, not like us at all. They welcomed us in, shared their space, and seemed *happy*. I don’t know what to make of it, but this feels like home to them, even though they said they can’t leave - like they don’t want to leave. It’s strange how different their beliefs are from the others speaking on Vasi, but then Vandria is a daughter of Lolth and no one would see the resemblance. Fortunately for us, Bero spent his time in Galicine studying, instead of enjoying the leisurely spoils of being heros (see: the free barcrawls Wombat and I called band shows). His knowledge and curiosity certainly helped our understanding of these people (maybe even our welcome here?). Remember aunt always said, “shallow brooks are noisy,” and I suspected she was just telling us to stop annoying her? Well, probably true, but also I suppose one cannot learn and observe much when they are always trying to perform. I’ll probably never know if you hear me messaging, like we did as kids, but I’ll keep working on my range.
Thank you @Wes - you will start your next session with Heroic Inspiration
Edit, addition: I love that you’re journaling your character downtime. If you are available this 2026-07-10T22:50:00Z, then your seat is already saved for you
Fray entry dnd-24
Well, I might be a murderer.
I didn’t push her off the cliff, but I did jump… and I can fly. She couldn’t.
I guess I should start at the beginning.
After Trolly McTrolly was done smacking me around and almost killing me, the team managed to kill it. Then a cow-man showed up. Big, smiling, and maybe kind of dumb. The team started talking about crossing the bridge, and somewhere during all the discussion, the raccoon that is 100% not a raccoon disappeared.
Well, lose one member, gain another, I guess.
The wind was blowing harder than the kids used to blow on birthday candles back at the church, and I just knew something bad was going to happen. So I tied myself to the dragonborn and the drow. I thought our combined weight would keep us safe.
I was right…
I was wrong about Mr. Cow.
He got blown right off the edge.
We managed to pull him back up with some rope and a whole lot of luck, and somehow we all made it across the bridge without any more issues.
That is, until we stepped into the ruins.
Now, I know I wasn’t paying too much attention when they were explaining what we were supposed to do so I could get out of jail, but I’m almost certain no one else was supposed to be here. Yet there were… “people.”
I use that term lightly.
They were people the same way a meat pie that’s been run over by a passing cart is still a meat pie. Skin falling off, fingers and limbs missing, and just… kind of weird.
They didn’t really give off an “I’m going to kill you” vibe, so we went over to talk to them. The moment we did, though, they all started some weird dance… ritual… thing.
It creeped me all the way out.
We talked to their “leader”—and I use that term loosely too—who told us they were the Stagnant. Like water that doesn’t flow. They lived forever and just waited for other people to come along and join them.
Super culty, if you ask me.
They freaked me out so much that I was ready to leave. I was like, “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take my chances back in jail.”
Apparently no one else agreed, so we decided to make camp.
While someone—definitely not me—was talking about throwing one of the cultists off the cliff to see if they were actually immortal, another cultist came over to talk to us.
She seemed nice enough, even with the missing fingers, but she couldn’t stop talking about spreading their message to the world.
I asked her what would happen if she jumped off the ledge.
She told me she’d come back.
I told her to prove it.
That’s some pretty big talk. It reminded me of the kids back at the church bragging.
“My foster parents are going to be rich.”
“My foster parents cook me dinner every day.”
You know… the kind of things no one believes are actually going to happen.
But she looked me right in the eyes and told me to jump with her. She said she’d prove it.
Umm… girl.
I have wings.
If I jump, I’m not exactly falling.
But sure. Why not? Let’s see what happens.
So…
Yeah.
I might be a killer.
Because I have wings…
…and she didn’t.
Hopefully she was telling the truth.
But if she was telling the truth…
What does that mean for us?
For me?
Maybe it would be better if I really was a murderer.
Thank you for this!
You will start your next session with Heroic Inspiration.
Crosspost from discord:
Curd Journal #1- When someone leaves you a note, make sure to flip it over. I thought we were just making a quick jaunt out to scout potential venues when I got the note from the band to head out and meet them. As a roadie, I should be more prepared and it seems like I beefed it on this one big time. When I caught up to the rest of the band we had to get across a very tall bridge. I again underestimated the situation as the trek across that bridge was nearly my last. I should have prepared better again and I should have listened to the band when they were suggesting we prepare. You have to listen, Curd!
Yeah so thinking of listening, the folk at the top of this pillar seen wrong. They see to be retracing steps and actions over and over harming themselves in the process; it is unhealthy and unnatural. It is not that they seem directly compelled either, they seem to WANT to keep retracing everything. These folk are sick - sick in the head. Worse, I don’t know if there is any way to heal them. Sometimes when the disease is beyond cure and rot is spreading the merciful thing is to end suffering. However, it is difficult for me to determine if these people are beyond help, it certainly seems so. Perhaps ending their suffering is the mercy?
One of the suffering up here walked clean off the ledge assured that they would return. I feel icky that we may have led that “missionary” into the decision though. Issuing mercy for those beyond redemption/healing is something I understand. Is convincing that same entity into ending it’s own suffering using a trick a different thing? Maybe it is, maybe it is not – I am unsure. Also what does is mean if the missionary does return? Did we increase their suffering? This is some different kind of maze that seems to have more turns than I am accustomed to. I guess the same answer applies, listen more – smash less, when I listen hopefully things will be more clear. Maybe that means i need to listen inwardly as well.
The winds calmed down on the bridge, so I was able to catch up to the others.
Got a closer look at the cultists, found a buried door, and saw some spider-like creatures.
For some odd reason the cultists summoned creatures to kill them. After watching, we got to get a close look at the areas they “live”. The others found some interesting items. I tested a theory by removing the dead cultists left feet and put them under some rocks on the bridge. After working on an odd language, we figured out how to open the door. P U, not going in there for a while.
Took a rest for the night to see what happens during the night with the living dead. They seemed fine the next morning, doing their normal routine.
Time to go explore more.
crosspost Fray #3
Well, good news is, I’m not a murderer. Bad news is, I think it would have been better if I was.
After I woke up from my night of maybe killing people, the cult was back at it again. Wailing and screaming and just acting like Back Alley Sam when he has too much to drink. I don’t know why or how, but she was back. And she didn’t even look at me. Like, girl, I kind of dropped you off a cliff, but you looked exactly the same. Weird, right?
So we watched them. The cat and dwarf were sleeping in after their night of keeping watch, so the rest of us just sat there and observed them… all morning long.
They did their weird-ass ritual again, only this time they summoned something. It looked like something I would pick out of the stray dog’s fur, but much bigger and meaner. The cultists started acting like they had just won free wine at the local tavern—big smiles, jumping for joy, the whole thing.
Then the spider? Tick? Gross messed-up thing? Whatever it was, it started killing them.
Not in a quick and easy way either. It was more like watching wild hounds tear apart a stray chicken. It was disgusting, and I know disgusting. It felt like it took forever, but I knew if we tried to help, we would just end up dead too. There was no way we could stand up to those… things.
And just as quickly as it began, it was over.
All 17 cultists were dead. They definitely weren’t moving, and their “friends” melted, I guess, into nothing.
Well, with the cult dead, we decided to snoop around and see what we could find.
Wanda and I went into the cultists’ “camp” and found a stone that looked a lot like the amulet that Number One was wearing. Not much else.
The raccoon—oh yeah, he’s back again—and the dragonborn found the amulet on Number One’s body. They noticed the markings on it looked like the markings on the door.
Oh yeah, that’s right. There’s a door that was buried and covered in strange markings. I’m sure it’s not important or anything.
I thought maybe because my stone had the alphabet on it, and the amulet had something that looked like it could be an alphabet, we could use them to translate the writing on the door.
Only, apparently, that would have been too easy.
They connected back together.
Bonus: I now have a really sick, cool thing.
Less bonus: We can’t put everything back the way it was, and who knows how the cult is going to react to that.
I was right, though. We can 100% use the amulet to translate the door. And we did.
I forgot what it says, but more importantly, I now know what it says, and I can speak the language.
Take that, Father Mike. Told you I was smart.
So now that I’m this cool, bilingual, language-wielding person, we decided we should try the ritual the cult was doing. Only this time, we would use the correct words and hopefully keep them dead.
It kind of worked.
I did a dance and sang in Greek, and the weird-ass green stone they had turned blue. Then I felt… things.
So many things.
We did it to our green stone, and it happened again.
We solved something.
Except we still didn’t know what to do next.
We could read the words, but all they told us was that it needed life. So I tried bleeding on it.
That did nothing except make my hand hurt.
But Wanda had an idea. She said, “Say water.”
So I did.
And the freaking door opened.
Just by saying water.
Not even real water. Just the word.
We opened the door, and BAM.
It was like the time everyone got food poisoning from that undercooked meat, and we all had to use the same chamber pot…
But so, so much worse.
It hit Wanda the hardest. She looked like she needed a nap for about a week.
We got out of there and decided we needed to let it air out. So we waited and watched the cultist bodies to see if our ritual had fixed them and put the pieces back together…
Because, yeah, they were literally torn apart.
Never mind.
They didn’t move for an entire day.
Then, like they were completely normal again, they just got up and started doing their ritual.
So I went to talk to her.
Thinking I was clever, I had Wanda cast Minor Illusion to make it look like I had running water around me. Well… I almost crapped myself.
They started coming toward me.
All of them.
I panicked so badly I felt like I was getting food poisoning again.
Wanda moved the illusion, and they immediately went after it instead, giving me enough time to escape.
I ran away and hid until they did their ritual again.
There is something very wrong with them.
I just have no idea what to do next.
That big door down was closed again. Group explored around door before deciding to go down south path. Path took us to a small grave area. 
M was only writing on one.
Group decided to go through the door and down down down we went. Found a huge room with stinky water full of plants. I flung my blue stone into the water, and that little area looked cleaner.
Bero was concentrating on some murals on the walls. I stood guard while the others wandered around.
Next level down is collapsed.
Bero thinks the murals show the building of this temple. I have my own ideas about these pictures.
(Sacrificeing warriors to make undead warriors. Used elements to create temple. Summoned water. There was an eruption. Created a water spider. Undead warriors defeated troops. Bugs attacked. People died. Worship spider creature. There is a key to release water.)