SCENE SIX — KERESKA’S FAVOR, 8:13 AMLocation: Common RoomStatus: Party returned from narrative combat with no time lossCodex Layer: Emotional Fallout & Downtime Phase ACTIVEObserver Mode: Fully Engaged
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The Air Feels… Different
The tavern is exactly as they left it.? Tea still steams.? The firepce crackles.? Risotto is trying (and failing) to flip a pancake midair.? The cat is now wearing Mel’s hood like a throne.
But something subtle lingers: a stillness in the sound, a kind of crity, as if every creak of the floorboards is now real in a way it wasn’t before.
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The Party Reacts
Mel
She stands near the bar, quiet. Her boots drip with ink that isn’t wet. The thorn in her palm is still rooted, curling softly in her grip. She doesn’t pull it out.
Instead, she gently pces it on the bar beside a teacup.
“It grew in someone else’s story. I brought it home.”
She takes the tea meant for her from earlier — still warm — and walks slowly to the hearth. She doesn’t speak again for a while.
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Krummar
The bnk page in his hand pulses faintly, like an unwritten prayer.
He sits heavily at a side table, sets it before him, and pulls out a quill tipped in starlight — never seen before, possibly never there until now.
“This one… I write myself.”
He begins to write. Not fast. Not even legibly. But deliberately.
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Daka
Still shirtless. Still radiating confidence. But his pirate hat is now perched backward, his bag of holding tied closed with a bow made from the mirror realm’s script ribbon.
He drops into a chair, feet on the table, holding nothing but air in his hands.
“I suplexed an allegory into a punctuation mark.I deserve twelve pastries, a nap, and a parade.”
Linguini tosses him a cheese danish without looking up from mopping.
“Leftover from Tuesday. Mind the fireball filling.”
“YEAHHH.”
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Melodia
Still standing.She holds the mirror shard in both hands. Her reflection smiles back—but not exactly in sync. Her freckles glow faintly, like stardust barely held together.
She sits beside Mel, curling one leg under her, still in her vender corset and soft thigh-highs, the moonstone choker now dimmed to a content hum.
“I think… I remember a song that hasn’t happened yet.”
Mel (softly): “Write it down before the world forgets.”
Melodia nods, pulls a small journal from her side pouch, and begins to write in gentle, looping cursive.
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Tavern — NPC Layer Active? Lorin watches silently, holding her tea with both hands. She doesn’t ask questions. She never needs to.? Risotto finally nds the pancake. It’s shaped like a question mark.? Renaer Neverember is nowhere to be seen… but there’s a folded napkin on the bar, with the words: “I saw the sky change. I know it was you. Proud of you. –R”
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Codex Fallout Update: Emotional Surge Processed? Mel → Self: Guilt -1, Trust +1? Krummar → Party: Glow +1? Daka → Melodia: Obsession (protective) +1? Melodia → Daka: Comfort +2, Attraction +1? Tavern Reputation: +2 Mythos Status — The Mirror-Forged Heroes
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8:20 AM — Peace Settles. For Now.
A breeze slips in through the tavern’s upper windows. The world outside is brighter.The Reflection Pool is gone. In its pce, a ring of roses — white, with bck thorns.
But in the rafters… the paper raven from before watches.Not moving. Not caged.
Just… observing.
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KERESKA’S FAVOR, 8:27 AMPhase: Downtime Recovery | Emotional Bonding & Real-Time Tavern FlowObserver Mode: ActiveCodex Layer: Fallout cooling, Trust +1 resonance window openTavern Mood: Golden morning lull after impossible storms
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The Firepce Pops. The World Holds Its Breath.
The glow of morning filters through stained gss panes. The silence is earned. No arms. No distortions. Just chairs creaking softly, tea being poured, and the faint hum of a world choosing not to fall apart.
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Mel — Quiet Restoration
She’s barefoot again.
Mel sits by the fire, tea untouched, sketchbook open in her p. She’s drawn the thorn she left on the counter—its curl, its tiny jagged bud, its defiance. She adds tiny runes to the roots like a whispered ward.
Linguini passes by with a tray of drying herbs. Mel lifts one sprig of mint wordlessly, sets it in the sketchbook, and lets it press into the page.
No one disturbs her silence.
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Krummar — Faith Without Preaching
Krummar’s bnk page now contains the first sentence of a sermon.
“A story written by others can only end in silence.”
He stares at it. Then flips the page, starts again.
Next line:
“Begin again. Always.”
Lorin refills his mug with quiet reverence. He nods to her once. She doesn’t speak. They are cleric and innkeeper—both guardians, both scribes of routine miracles.
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Daka — Rewriting the Legend, Loudly
He stands on a table. One boot up. Holding a fork like a sword. His shirt: still missing. His grin: visible from orbit.
“AND LO, THE EDITOR SAID UNTO ME, ‘YOU ARE OFF-SCRIPT.’AND I SAID, ‘I AM THE DAMN SCRIPT.’”
Melodia ughs out loud. Her voice is high, musical, sweet. She cps once, then hides her mouth behind her croissant.
Daka (pointing): “She gets it!”
Risotto (from the kitchen):“Just don’t rewrite lunch, please.”
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Melodia — Gentle Gravity
Melodia shifts seats.
She glides across the tavern floor, curls into the seat beside Mel. Doesn’t speak for a long moment. Just leans her head against Mel’s shoulder—soft, delicate, full of weightless trust.
Mel doesn’t move. But her pen stops.
“Thank you,” Melodia says, voice like spun moonlight.
“For not letting me be edited out.”
Mel says nothing.
But her hand rests gently on Melodia’s. Just once.
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Codex Emotional Fallout Settles:? Melodia → Mel: Trust +1, Glow +1? Mel → Melodia: Comfort +1, Vulnerability -1? Daka → Entire Room: Presence +2 (temporary, bardic performance aura)? Krummar → Self: Devotion-Stability Buff: +1 to Will saves until next long rest
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8:34 AM — Unseen Guest Approaches
Outside, boots spsh softly through morning puddles.A silhouette pauses at the window. Doesn’t knock.
Just pces a coin on the sill — etched with a star and a cracked mask.
A symbol of the Masked Lords.And a note beneath it: “You’ve changed the script. Let’s talk soon.”
The guest vanishes before they can be seen.
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Tavern Life Continues? Linguini starts preparing baked fish with lemon and secrets.? Risotto begins reorganizing the spice rack alphabetically by personality.? The cat sits at the window. Watching the paper raven.
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KERESKA’S FAVOR, 9:02 AMStatus: Morning calm fully in bloomCodex Layer: Ambient Mythos Signature now traceableTavern Occupancy: 4 party members, 3 staff, 1 cat, 1 watching raven, 1 message on the windowPhase: Incoming Faction Contact (Autonomous Initiation)Observer Mode: Unbroken
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The Raven Moves
The paper raven on the rafter finally flutters down—delicately, wings whisper-thin.
It nds not near Krummar, nor Daka.
It nds in front of Mel.
Her hand pauses mid-sketch. The thorn drawing is almost complete. She gnces at it, then at the raven. It regards her silently.
It doesn’t speak. But it folds inward, origami creasing into a ft square.A new note appears beneath its folded wings.
Mel picks it up.
She reads silently.
Then stands.
Mel (to the group):“We’re being watched. Not hunted. Not yet.”“But someone with a name like ‘Mirage Representative, Tier VI’ wants to meet.”“Two hours. Bckstaff Tower. Not officially.”
Krummar (without looking up):“So… unofficially lethal.”
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Melodia:
She draws her knees up onto her chair, corset ces shifting gently as she exhales.
“I’ll go. If it’s about rewriting stories, we should meet the next author.”
Daka:“As long as nobody tries to give me narrative notes, we’re good.”
He flexes in the direction of the window. The raven evaporates into ink as if to say message received.
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Faction Hooks Triggered:? Masked Lords of Waterdeep: aware of narrative shift? Mirage Circle (Codex-tier): interested in the party’s rewrite? The Harpers: quietly losing control of their version of events? The Bckstaff: allowing this to unfold, but watching closely
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Krummar’s Head Lifts
He looks toward the east-facing window. Eyes narrowing.
“If we do this… we walk into a hall of mirrors holding torches. We’ll see ourselves too clearly. Maybe them too.”
He grabs his shield.
“But I’m tired of squinting.”
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Tavern Rhythm Picks Up? Lorin ys out a tray of traveling provisions.? Risotto offers Daka a disguised pastry beled “Combat-Ready.”? Linguini polishes Melodia’s bowstring, then vanishes before she can thank him.
The party’s gear is ready. The day is rolling forward.
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