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: TerrickTerran: According to the few remaining accounts, the Azlanti outpost of
  Nal-Kashel was a shining testament to the glories and revelations of the old empire. A crowning achievement of engineering, the city served as an ancient observatory and center of learning, and a necessary pilgrimage site for the educated elite of Old Azlant. But even then, dark rumors hinted at forbidden astrological manipulations of alien realms, and whispers claimed a terrible force guided the minds of Nal-Kashel’s scholars. Earthfall brought low the glorious empire, and Nal-Kashel sank below the waves, its halls home now to sharks and eels. Only the highest spires and deserted streets of the elevated temple district remain above the sea, while broken tower tops float through the sky above in slow, elliptical orbits about the island, a forlorn testament to the city’s former glory.
  
  Ships and sailors avoid Hellmouth Gulf for good reason. Sharp rocks jut from the waves all along its inhospitable coastline, like the gaping maw of some foul beast. A rough road runs the length of the coast, providing a safer choice for those averse to traveling across the sea.
  
  The Hellmouth Gulf ’s coast is a treacherous stretch of craggy cliffs, torn from the side of the continent by the cataclysmic tremors of Earthfall, 10,000 years ago. A coastal road follows the rugged coastline atop these cliffs; some stretches are hundreds of feet tall, and only occasionally do breaks in the cliff wall expose entrances to small coves and inlets. Dark sand and jagged rocks cover the coast’s small, spare beaches, and the incoming tide carries with it a sulfurous grime.
  
  A low fog hangs along the shore, refusing to release its grip in the pervasive gloom of an overcast morning. The surf crashes against nearby cliffs, and the cold wind carries a spray of fine mist. But then a cry of distress rings out over the briny current! Shouts of pain echo as a fisherman in an old rowboat wields a single broken oar against an enormous crab. The man struggles to reach the rocks and the safety of a small inlet nearby.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Prince Zahn: The sun rose / a dream fades / a new day / Undine wakes
  She gets dressed / as she hears / the wood snap / an oar breaks
  Though fatigued / from last night / busking late / at "The Snake"
  But her ears / did not lie / the man's Cries / were not fake.
  She cries  "' Ey!    / "Ye need 'elp? /  Jus' 'old on! "  / the ground quakes.
  She swims forth / to his aid,  / for his life / is at stake
  
   
   Spoiler: OOC 
  do NOT try this at home,  kids.😛 Poetry - not even once.
  
  Clarion call to the man, others can probably hear it too. Undine swims to the man's aid.
   