From 120aaee0e32ba4323fd5c6e5815aaf47a0ef75fa Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: al Date: Mon, 30 Jun 2025 19:07:43 -0400 Subject: [PATCH] Update acl.cool/site/draft/umbral1.dj --- acl.cool/site/draft/umbral1.dj | 3 +-- 1 file changed, 1 insertion(+), 2 deletions(-) diff --git a/acl.cool/site/draft/umbral1.dj b/acl.cool/site/draft/umbral1.dj index 87d2157..e0d75b3 100644 --- a/acl.cool/site/draft/umbral1.dj +++ b/acl.cool/site/draft/umbral1.dj @@ -23,8 +23,7 @@ As the party takes count, they notice that one of their number is missing: the l Before long, a guard emerges from the heavy double doors and holds one of them open, prompting the party to follow him inside. Taking up the rear, he escorts them down a long and richly decorated hallway. On the walls hang paintings of otherworldly scenes--- some of which Gottlob recognizes as belonging to other planes--- alongside scores of magical artifacts. As the party comes to yet another set of doors, silver-inlaid slabs of oak that reach up to the ceiling, another guard swings them open, ushering our heroes inside. -With trepidation, they glance around the war-room before them. Gottlob and Clementine, Waterhavians of the group, recognize Laerel Silverhand[^laerel], child of Mystra and Lord of Waterdeep, as she reposes on a shallow dais at the end of a great oaken table occupying the central region of the room. Her flowing white robes and silver hair, drawn in loops about her face, conspire to convey the momentary impression of a calcite-hewn portrait gilded with a thousand-thousand pearls. Dozens of officials and functionaries fill rows of seats toward the periphery or the room, each behind their own small desk, and only as Lord Silverhand gestures to the newly-arrived party members do they stymie the frenzy of their conversations. - +With trepidation, they glance around the war-room before them. Gottlob and Clementine, Waterhavians of the group, recognize Laerel Silverhand[^laerel], child of Mystra and Lord of Waterdeep, as she reposes on a shallow dais at the end of a long, low table in the center of the chamber. Her white robes and silver hair conspire in a stately cascade to convey the momentary impression of a calcite-hewn portrait gilded with a thousand-thousand pearls. Dozens of officials and functionaries fill rows of seats toward the periphery or the room, each behind their own small desk, and only as Lord Silverhand gestures to the newly-arrived party members do they stymie the frenzy of their conversations. Silverhand addresses the party, inviting them to approach the grand table. She explains the situation and the reason for their presence. > We have received troubling reports of an otherworldly incursion. Eyewitness accounts have verified what I am about to tell you. Within the last month, the northern peak the Sword Coast underwent a planar fissure, a tear in the fabric a reality. It was able to be closed, but not before something broke through and escaped into the material plane. It seems to have been followed by eight more of its kind: beholders.