{Edit: These two resources, an<a class="postlink" href="http://eberron.wikia.com/wiki/Eberron_Timeline">Eberron timeline</a>and a<a class="postlink" href="http://andysdnd.files.wordpress.com/2011/07/dd_-_4th_edition_-_eberron_map_khorvaire.jpg">map of Khorvaire</a>, may be useful.}<br/><br/>{Hopefully the others will join us, and I expect we'll be able to slip them in retrospectively without too much trouble. Nothing says the whole party has to be at the same in-game time at the same real-world time, either. I just want to get this starting bit out of the way for now, and then the pace will probably slacken a bit - certainly in terms of volume written per day.}<br/><br/>{Dice rolling: However you want to roll your dice is fine – you must decide the meaning of the roll before you roll it though – i.e. 'I will use this roll for my perception check against this stated DC', for example}.<br/><br/>{Skill check rules check: Untrained rolls are definitely allowed. I'll specify if a roll is 'trained only'. You may 'take ten' if you are not in immediate danger or distracted (again, I will specify if you may not take ten). As I understand it this simulates average effort and takes little longer than a typical rolled skill check. Taking twenty – i.e. rolling so many times a twenty comes up – can only be done when there are no consequences and takes twenty times as long as the regular check would've.}<br/><br/><br/>{briefly interrupting Sansuki's scene - this will probably be necessary a lot. Feel free to interrupt me too. You can also put reasonable words - 'go on' for example - into the mouths of the NPCs, and each other, with the health warning that either I or the relevant player may say you've made a mistake and they need to change/redo it.}<br/>“That went lovely, madam Katra-” Alizome said,<br/><br/>“Please-” the harpy interrupted. “That name is... reserved. The great Sora Katra would not sing even here, nor could she, for her presence would draw far too much attention. I am merely Zorakatra, one Harpy Chorister among many,” her smile breaks into a smirk, “albeit an unparalleled virtuoso. We shall speak no more of it.”<br/>{the rest of Alizome's scene can continue as Sansuki has written}<br/><br/><br/>{from the end of Sansuki's scene, for Sansuki only at present – warning, post-cooking and sexy stuff in one paragraph}<br/><div style="padding: 3px; background-color: #FFFFFF; border: 1px solid #d8d8d8; font-size: 1em;"><div style="text-transform: uppercase; border-bottom: 1px solid #CCCCCC; margin-bottom: 3px; font-size: 0.8em; font-weight: bold; display: block;"><span onclick="if (this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display != '') {  this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = ''; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;hide&lt;/a&gt;'; } else { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = 'none'; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;show&lt;/a&gt;'; }"><b>Spoiler: </b><a href="#" onclick="return false;">show</a></span></div><div class="quotecontent"><div style="display: none;">"So, who's coming back here?" Alizome asked the harpy, still brushing. "Haven't asked, not really my business, but I am curious why you asked me to stay back here with you for a meeting after the performance instead of hitting the taverns for some mead." She figured it probably had to do with the necklace- two odd occurrences close together were either part of a plan or a coincidence, and Alizome did not believe in coincidences.<br/><br/>“There is no need to dissemble with me, my dear,” Zorakatra continues. “We've shared a rare intimacy. Well, rare for a girl who'll go on living, anyway,” she smirks,  sliding a thin metal disc into your palm. The disk bears the stylised, embossed displacer-beast heraldry of House Thuranni, its claws seeming to striking back four long grooves into the metal. Atop it, she lays a fine vellum scroll.<br/><br/>“As to two will be joining us - your needed companions,” {if you're not into cooked bunnies, you might want to skip this paragraph} Zorakatra answers, opening the door to your dressing room and stepping inside. The centrepiece of what lies within is a girl, sightless eyes staring back at you through honey-roasted glaze as she rests on a steaming platter. The wilted green spray of a carrot protrudes from between her spread legs, impaled pussy and asshole both, beneath the delicate white bob of her tail. Thick, powerful thighs slim down to broad bunny feet, though from her expression they hadn't brought her luck. Another carrot was clutched between her buck-bunny-teeth, and above, her floppy bunny ears. “Just a bimbun,” Zorakatra explains, “woman and rabbit fused by the foul transmutation sorceries of the Fleshweaver. Forbidden daelkyr knowledge takes the body of a girl – mostly – and conjoins it to the instincts and appetites of the bunny. Mordain releases them occasionally from Khresht Rhyll, to trouble the  lowlands. The swamps or the Deepwood or <span style="font-style: italic">us</span> get most of them, and the Gatekeeper druid sects of the Reaches most of the rest. If they were to round Lake Galifar in numbers, they'd lay waste to the Five Nations. A nest can strip a dozen miles to bare earth in a day. Where they hop, ruined desert follows. When the wind and currents have stranded them on the islands of the Blackwater, they've devoured each other.” She rests her winghands on either side of the bimbun's thigh, and pulls the meat's legs apart. “It's good that their only defence is to freeze and present,” she continues, as roasted muscles parts as easily as a loaf of bread, and the leg pulls free, surmounted by the bone and ball-joint.”Though it would probably suffice against the puritanical army the Thranes would raise,” she laughs. “They'd spear the bimbuns with their swords alright,” she grins, “right here,” her wingfingertips slip next to the remaining thigh, and pull the pussystuffing carrot loose. A wave of clarified juices, smelling thickly of girlsex, pour out across the platter. Zorakatra takes the carrot, sniffs it, and munches it. “But I'll give them this,” she says around her mouthful, “they do taste good, and,” she lifts the haunch of bimbun by it's lucky foot, to dangle above her mouth, opening her jaw far less wide than it'd taken her to devour you, “live slow-roasting seals in all the flavor,” she drawls as the juices drip onto her tongue, and lowers the leg down after it. It's gone in two swift gulps, neither seeming like a strain, and slides down to form a barely-perceptible bulge in her bared midriff. <br/><br/>She wipes her mouth on her winghand, and smiles at you. “In short, I have purchased your services, and the aid of your house, in this matter,” The scroll proves to be a document notorised by House Sivis for House Thuranni {essentially, these together provide reasonable proof of the truth of Zorakatra's words}. In terse phrases it instructs that any and all reasonably assistance should be offered to Alizome {d' Thuranni, presumably? PS If Alizome bears an aberrant dragonmark of vore (see below) she'll have had to hide it from the rest of House Thuranni. If she does not, then Zorakatra's also says}: “Also, a gift,” Zorakatra says, passing you a hide-strung pendant – a small crystal bottle of a crimson so deep it's almost black. “From the heart of the dragon,” she tells Alizome. Claws rap at the door. “Damn,” Zorakatra murmurs. “Well, you'll figure it out. Use it drop by drop though, you understand,” she finishes whatever she'd been telling Alizome.</div></div></div><br/><br/><br/>{For all} Perception DC23 – to see if you can heart it from outside the room.<div style="padding: 3px; background-color: #FFFFFF; border: 1px solid #d8d8d8; font-size: 1em;"><div style="text-transform: uppercase; border-bottom: 1px solid #CCCCCC; margin-bottom: 3px; font-size: 0.8em; font-weight: bold; display: block;"><span onclick="if (this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display != '') {  this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = ''; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;hide&lt;/a&gt;'; } else { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = 'none'; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;show&lt;/a&gt;'; }"><b>Spoiler: </b><a href="#" onclick="return false;">show</a></span></div><div class="quotecontent"><div style="display: none;">“From the heart of the dragon,” she tells Alizome. Claws rap at the door. “Damn,” Zorakatra murmurs. “Well, you'll figure it out. Use it drop by drop though, you understand,” she finishes whatever she'd been telling Alizome</div></div></div><br/><br/>Claws rap against the door, and Zorakatra tears the bimbun's arm free and proffers it to Alizome. “Enter,” Zorakatra shouts.<br/><br/>“Your guests, Virtuoso Zorakatra,” a young harpy novice-chorister says, as you enter. The room is large, but the group of you will crowd it. A platter of half-devoured whole honey-roasted girl lies on a ramshackle table. The flaxen-haired elf has one arm of the girl in hand {Sansuki may wish to redescribe this depending on Alizome's level of comfort}, and the rest makes a barely-visible bulge in the harpy virtuoso's bared tum.<br/><br/>{if you're not into cooked bunnies, you might want to skip this paragraph - it is written from the perspective of Zorakatra's and Alizome's earlier scene. In principle you can have the relevant information about bimbuns with a knowledge (nature), knowledge (arcane) or knowledge (history), DC12 - but in this case feel free to read even if your character doesn't 'know' it.<div style="padding: 3px; background-color: #FFFFFF; border: 1px solid #d8d8d8; font-size: 1em;"><div style="text-transform: uppercase; border-bottom: 1px solid #CCCCCC; margin-bottom: 3px; font-size: 0.8em; font-weight: bold; display: block;"><span onclick="if (this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display != '') {  this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = ''; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;hide&lt;/a&gt;'; } else { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = 'none'; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;show&lt;/a&gt;'; }"><b>Spoiler: </b><a href="#" onclick="return false;">show</a></span></div><div class="quotecontent"><div style="display: none;">Zorakatra answers, opening the door to your dressing room and stepping inside. The centrepiece of what lies within is a girl, sightless eyes staring back at you through honey-roasted glaze as she rests on a steaming platter. The wilted green spray of a carrot protrudes from between her spread legs, impaled pussy and asshole both, beneath the delicate white bob of her tail. Thick, powerful thighs slim down to broad bunny feet, though from her expression they hadn't brought her luck. Another carrot was clutched between her buck-bunny-teeth, and above, her floppy bunny ears. “Just a bimbun,” Zorakatra explains, “woman and rabbit fused by the foul transmutation sorceries of the Fleshweaver. Forbidden daelkyr knowledge takes the body of a girl – mostly – and conjoins it to the instincts and appetites of the bunny. Mordain releases them occasionally from Khresht Rhyll, to trouble the  lowlands. The swamps or the Deepwood or <span style="font-style: italic">us</span> get most of them, and the Gatekeeper druid sects of the Reaches most of the rest. If they were to round Lake Galifar in numbers, they'd lay waste to the Five Nations. A nest can strip a dozen miles to bare earth in a day. Where they hop, ruined desert follows. When the wind and currents have stranded them on the islands of the Blackwater, they've devoured each other.” She rests her winghands on either side of the bimbun's thigh, and pulls the meat's legs apart. “It's good that their only defence is to freeze and present,” she continues, as roasted muscles parts as easily as a loaf of bread, and the leg pulls free, surmounted by the bone and ball-joint.”Though it would probably suffice against the puritanical army the Thranes would raise,” she laughs. “They'd spear the bimbuns with their swords alright,” she grins, “right here,” her wingfingertips slip next to the remaining thigh, and pull the pussystuffing carrot loose. A wave of clarified juices, smelling thickly of girlsex, pour out across the platter. Zorakatra takes the carrot, sniffs it, and munches it. “But I'll give them this,” she says around her mouthful, “they do taste good, and,” she lifts the haunch of bimbun by it's lucky foot, to dangle above her mouth, opening her jaw far less wide than it'd taken her to devour you, “live slow-roasting seals in all the flavor,” she drawls as the juices drip onto her tongue, and lowers the leg down after it. It's gone in two swift gulps, neither seeming like a strain, and slides down to form a barely-perceptible bulge in her bared midriff.</div></div></div><br/>“Excellent,” Zorakatra says, “they will be hungry after the performance. Bring food.”<br/><br/>“It... will take time to roast, Virtuoso Zorakatra,” the novice-chorister says, “the kitchens are stuffed with orders. Your performance left-”<br/><br/>“-the kitchen's good services will not be required,” Zorakatra says, glancing around with wicked eyes, “save for a suitable sauce. The meat is clean, is it not?” The novice bobs her head affirmatively – the menial work of preparation forms part of the payment for her apprenticeship. “Then herd it directly,” Zorakatra commands. The novice bows, and takes her leave. Zorakatra's licks her lips. “Such a sweet girl,” she murmurs.<br/><br/>“So!” Zorakatra claps her wings. “To business! At 'Kern's Rest and Revelry' there is a man. He seeks an artefact of the ancient world, which lies to the east.<span style="font-style: italic">If</span>this group arrives in Korranberg,” a nonchalant wave of her wing encompasses the room, “before the Waning of Dravago {months in Eberron are recorded by the rise and set of the twelve moons. Dravago, the herder's moon, is currently waxing, and will begin to wane four nights hence. i.e. after tonight you have three days to reach Korranberg}<span style="font-style: italic">then</span>he will contract with you to retrieve it,<span style="font-style: italic">and</span>behaviour now decried as monstrous will become more accepted throughout Khorvaire. My sis-” she pauses. “It is known.” She nods decisively, and her wings flap her emphasis in a perfectly natural display of harpy body-language. “The journey will carry you over water. This is helpful,” she shakes her head, indicating that it isn't “as Korranberg is a major port city and ships leave there for all Khorvaire, and the intended meaning may not even apply to the first stage of your journey. Additionally,” she shrugs, an impressive display for this broad-winged birdwoman, “there may or may not be catastrophic events laying all nations to waste which you may or may not either cause or prevent or be involved with in any way. The portents are clear. The signs remain unforseen,” she sighs. “Thus is this adventure no different to any other day.”<br/><br/>“Most of you would stand to benefit from acceptance across Khorvaire – and by achieving it you would have the gratitude of all Droaam. Miss Alizome and I have already made a separate arrangement, though her desires align with the broader goal. Doubtless the man will pay, and there will likely be treasures and other relics of value,” the harpy sighs, “there usually are. You must reach Korranberg swiftly, either by forced-march to Wroat and thence lightning rail to Korranberg, or directly by House Orien teleportation circle. Either will require funds, and in this matter I can assist you,” she smiles, and pours a familiar ornate necklace, set with five onyx gems into Alizome's outstretched hand. “This should suffice.” Against the elf's pale skin, the smooth stones seem blacker than midnight, as if devouring the light itself.<br/><br/>“In either case, the journey will be arduous,” {teleportation in Eberron is a relatively recent discovery, and the ritual can be both dangerous and exhausting. Perhaps not as dangerous as the road through Droaam to Wroat, but still...} Zorakatra says, as the door opens in the winghand of the chorister-novice, and a brace of nervous, bleating goats are ushered into the room. “I advise you to eat,” she says, as another, and yet another pair of goats are ushered in. The novice bobs her head, turning to go – Zorakatra's catches her wrist before she can leave. “Remember to knock next time,” Zorakatra says, leaning the girl back and stroking her cheek with one pinionfeather. “Little chicklet wouldn't like what'd happen to her if she overheard something she shouldn't. You sing so sweetly, pretty songbird.” Zorakatra continues, pressing a kiss to the younger harpy's forehead, “It'd be such a shame to silence you.”<br/>{end}