conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Cardea: Its early morning. The sun rises up across the village, the streets a stark blend of shadow and illumination. The brick courtyard makes the only sound, clacking as you make your way to the Traveler's Traverse, the only and, therefore, the largest Inn in the village of Vulfhaven. Biting spring breeze races throughout the empty streets, leaving you able to see your breath in the air. Each breath you take hangs and basks in the silence for a moment before it disappears. And everything is tinged in a hue of sepia. The tanner's shack, its winter padding hoisted up on the inside, you know, tools scattered around the work station out front. The fountain powered by the decanter that's owned by the mayor, currently "off". No water comes forth from the flower at the top to rain down on the praying woman below. The chipped paint of the mayor's office. The smell of elderberries wafting in the air as bread begins to rise in the baker's store. Stray dogs and cats turn their heads as you walk past them. Some walk by you for a spell. Even they can feel it.
  
  Inside the Traverse, where the incident took place all those years ago, its a lonely, quiet sight. Travis Galag works behind his counter, cutting up meats and cheeses for a platter. He waves at the six of you as you come in, but its half-hearted. Melned sits at a table near the fire, enjoying its warmth. For twenty years he's run the village. Twenty long, dutiful years. In front of him is a black wooden box, smaller than a satchel, and hanging off the chair across from him is a sword in its scabbard. He's eating some sort of soup: thick and white with chunks of pale orange and green. Hard bread with visible bite marks in it sits next to his bowl. He looks up at the six of you slowly, and sighs, standing up. He's only 47 but he looks older today. Metaphysical burdens now look like physical ones. He waves the six of you to the tables in front of him, their chairs already pulled down, their tops already polished, and now joined by a platter of cuts of meat and cheese and bread, with a pitcher of water and a pitcher of milk beside them, complete with cups. Melned speaks, as Travis goes back to his countertop, taking a seat.
  
   "I want to say I wish you all would stay, but... but I know how important it is for you to go. So please. Tell me. You said goodbye, right? You said your farewells?" 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Shyftir: "Yessir, Ma and Pa know I'm heading out and why."  Lucas spoke first despite being the least dedicated to their cause. For him leaving was the point, where and why was less important. The others were far more curious about the visitor from long ago, but Lucas just wanted to see more of the world.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Edge: Ot straightens his outfit and shifts his appearance to his natural, pale-skinned and bald self as he enters the Traverse, nodding and smiling at Travis as the innkeeper waves at him and the others. As the mayor gestures to the tables in front of him, the changeling bows politely before taking a seat. He doesn't even consider touching the refreshments yet.
  
  Melned's question catches him off guard, though on reflection he realises it really shouldn't.
  
   "I have informed my mother of my intent, though she was not best pleased. To put it mildly,"  the changeling says with a mirthless smile.  "And I have made my apologies to Daris and the rest of the Amateur Dramatics Society. Except Jolune. She's been impossible to find. I suspect she's purposefully avoiding me." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Nettlekid: " Well I'll be the first to say...I wasn't actually expecting anyone else to come here to see you when I did, " Zan tilts his head. " I've been trying to stay away from the village for the past few months, since I'm still working on figuring out my...condition. It's only for guidance that I came back to speak with you, and...well, what are you guys even doing here, anyway? " He glances over the assembled group.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: byzantineblue: Mel blinks slowly. She didn't sleep well last night -- nerves gotten to her, though she'd never admit it. Well, she'd call it excitement, anyway. She nods, sipping her milk to bring moisture back to her mouth.  "Everything's all ready for me to be off."  She didn't mention her parents, who, on the whole, had been accommodating. She didn't mention her few friends either. They'd been even less surprised.  "And I bet Jolune's perfectly keen on you leaving, Otto,"  she adds flatly.