📚 Scene Four: Secrets in the Stacks

The Dawnflower Library stands at the heart of Otari, its sunlit windows casting warm beams across rows of well-worn tomes. The scent of parchment and dried lavender fills the air, and the quiet hum of distant chanting echoes from the adjoining shrine.

Ezren strides in first, eyes already scanning the shelves.

“If there’s knowledge to be found, it’s here. Sarenrae’s followers are nothing if not thorough.”

Kyra offers a respectful nod to the librarian, a silver-haired acolyte named Sister Vanya.

“We seek guidance on spirits—those caught between tides and time.”

Sister Vanya gestures toward the eastern alcove.

“The sea archives. Third shelf. Look for the binding glyph of the tidecaller.”

Ezren’s fingers dance across spines until he finds it: “Liminal Currents: Binding and Appeasement Rituals of the Tidebound.” A rare volume, its cover etched with curling wave motifs and faded ink.

🎲 Research Outcome (Resounding YES from Oracle + Ezren’s rolls for his Arcana skill (DC 12, roll =14+7, easily passes)

Ezren pores over the text, muttering as he translates ancient Thassilonian and coastal dialects. After half an hour, he looks up, eyes gleaming.

“There’s a ritual. Not to banish—but to appease. It requires three elements:

1. A token of the bound spirit’s origin—something personal or symbolic.
2. A circle of salt and sea-glass, laid at low tide.
3. A spoken name, given freely by one who remembers.”

He pauses, thoughtful.

“The last part… that may be why the Echo spoke ‘Menhemes.’ The mayor knows more than he’s said.”

Merisiel leans back, arms crossed.

“So we need a token, a tide, and a truth. Sounds like a good way to ruin someone’s afternoon.”

Valeros grins.

“Let’s hope it’s not ours.”

🕰️ Scene Five: The Mayor’s Parlor

The party crosses Otari’s cobbled square, the tide whispering behind them. The mayor’s residence looms ahead—an old stone building with ivy creeping up its sides and a brass plaque dulled by sea air.

They expect to find Mayor Menhemes in his study, and the oracle confirms it—with a twist.

YES (and)… Liska is with him.

Inside, the room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the afternoon glare. Mayor Menhemes sits behind his desk, fingers steepled, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Liska leans against the window frame, arms folded, the obsidian shard glinting faintly at her belt.

Ezren steps forward, voice calm but firm.

“We’ve uncovered a ritual. It requires a token—something tied to the spirit’s origin. That shard… it may be more than a keepsake.”

Liska’s eyes narrow.

“It was found near the old tidepools. I’ve kept it since I was a child. I never knew why it felt… heavy.”

Menhemes shifts uncomfortably.

“There are things I haven’t spoken of. The name the Echo whispered—Menhemes—wasn’t mine alone. It belonged to my grandfather. He was part of the binding. The shard… it was meant to mark the place.”

Kyra steps forward, gentle but resolute.

“Then it’s time to unmark it. We need the truth, Mayor. Not just for the ritual—but for Otari.”

🗣️ Scene Six: A Partial Unveiling

Kyra steps forward, her voice steady and warm.

“Mayor Menhemes, we’re not here to judge. But the spirit called your name. That means something. If we’re to help Otari, we need the full story.”

She speaks with conviction, her words laced with empathy. The room holds its breath.

🎲 Diplomacy Check: 7 + 5 = 12 (DC 12)
Success—just enough to get him talking, but not enough to unlock everything.

Menhemes sighs, his gaze drifting to the window where Liska watches the tide roll in.

“My grandfather was part of a pact. A binding ritual, yes—but not one sanctioned by the Dawnflower. It was… older. Wilder. They sealed something beneath the tidepools. Something that whispered to them in dreams.”

He pauses, fingers tightening around a carved driftwood pendant.

“The obsidian shard was a marker. A warning. But over time, the story faded. My father refused to speak of it. I only know fragments.”

Ezren leans in.

“Fragments can still cut deep. What was the spirit’s name?”

Menhemes hesitates.

“I don’t know. Only that they called it The Hollow Tide. And that it demanded a name in return.”

Liska shifts, eyes narrowing.

“You said it whispered. Did it whisper to you?”

Menhemes doesn’t answer. Not yet.

🌊 Legacy of the Tidebound

Kyra attempts to talk to Liska. Diplomacy Check: 12 + 5 = 12 (DC 14) Success.

Ezren, flipping through the ritual text, pauses at a marginal note:

“The binding must be remembered, lest it unravel. The names of the binders echo in the tide.”

He looks up, thoughtful.

“It’s not just the token or the ritual. It’s the lineage. The Hollow Tide may be calling to those who carry the memory—even if they don’t know it.”

Kyra turns to Liska.

“Did your grandmother ever speak of the tidepools? Of dreams or voices?”

Liska hesitates.

“She used to hum a tune when the tide was high. Said it kept the sea quiet. I thought it was just a lullaby.”

Menhemes nods slowly.

“My grandfather kept journals. Most were burned after his death. But I salvaged one page. It mentions a pact… and a second family.”

Ezren’s eyes narrow.

“Then you weren’t just chosen by circumstance. You were summoned.”

🌊 Scene Seven: The Tide Sings

l ask the oracle if Liska will freely offer the shard. No (and)… I roll on the Twist table and get ‘A Dream Bleeds Into Reality’ (Symbols or figures from sleep appear). Interesting, I am going to read that as she begins to hear the lullaby again, from the tied itself.

Liska stiffens as Kyra speaks of appeasement and tokens. Her hand drifts to the obsidian shard at her belt, but she doesn’t offer it. Her eyes are distant, unfocused.

“No,” she says quietly. “It’s not mine to give.”

Ezren frowns.

“You’ve kept it for years. It’s tied to your family. That makes it yours.”

Liska shakes her head, voice trembling.

“It’s hers. My grandmother’s. I only held it. I never understood it.”

Then the room falls silent.

From beyond the window, the tide rolls in—not with a crash, but with a melody. A soft, lilting tune, familiar and impossible. The same lullaby Liska heard as a child, now carried on the wind and woven into the waves.

She gasps, stepping back.

“That’s… that’s her voice.”

Merisiel moves to the window, eyes scanning the shore.

“No one’s singing.”

Kyra closes her eyes, listening.

“A dream is bleeding through. The veil is thin.”

Menhemes rises, pale and shaken.

“This happened once before. Just before the pact was sealed. The tide sang, and the binders dreamed, or so its said.”

Ezren’s voice is low.

“Then the Hollow Tide is stirring again. And it remembers.”

I roll twice on the verb table to see what the lullaby reveals, and get ‘Offer’, ‘a secret’, which I interpret as ‘Liska fall into some kind of trance state and begin walking out of the Mayors office’.

Liska’s eyes glaze over, pupils dilating as the lullaby threads through her mind like seaweed through fingers. Her breath slows. She turns without a word and walks out of the mayor’s office, the shard at her belt pulsing faintly with a dull, rhythmic glow.

Kyra is the first to follow, murmuring a prayer to Pharasma.

“She walks the border now. Between waking and the tide.”

Ezren clutches his satchel, eyes narrowed.

“This is no ordinary trance. Something is calling her.”

Merisiel draws her blade—not in threat, but in readiness.

“If the tide wants secrets, it may want blood too.”

Outside, the streets of Otari are quiet. The townsfolk seem unaware, their dreams undisturbed. But the party feels it: a pressure in the air, like the hush before a storm. Liska walks steadily toward the cliffs, where the tide pools shimmer under moonlight.

As she reaches the edge, she kneels and places the shard into the water. The lullaby swells, and the foam begins to shape itself—symbols forming, shifting, revealing.

“She offered it,” Kyra whispers. “And now the tide answers.”

🌫️ The Grandmother’s Echo

I roll for two more verbs and get Reveal and Summon

I read those as the water summons a memory of Liska’s grandmother standing in the same spot, whispering to the tide. Liska begins to sing a song about a secret pact made long ago. As she sings the tide begins to recede, revealing a hidden cave, once sealed, now Liska’s song opens it.

As Liska sings, her voice trembles with half-remembered words, the lullaby reshaping itself into something older—a binding song. The tide recedes unnaturally, revealing slick stone steps spiraling down into the cliffside. The shard pulses once more, then dims.

Above the tidepools, the figure of her grandmother remains. Not a ghost, not quite a memory. Her form flickers like candlelight in fog—the liminal, a presence caught between realms. She watches silently, lips moving in tandem with Liska’s song.

Kyra bows her head.

“She’s not here. But she’s not gone either. The pact preserved her.”

Ezren murmurs,

“A guardian of the threshold. The cave was sealed with her voice. It opens only to blood and memory.”

To be continued.

If you missed session 1, click here to go there. Go to session 1