Dante awoke in a small darkened room. He struggled to remember why he even called himself that. He struggled harder yet to recall his true name. He held out his hand palm up to evoke a small flame and found that he could not. He attempted to weave a basic spell to ward away enchantment into a hummed tune, but it fell flat and the magic that he briefly touched slipped away with no effect. Rubbing his head he sat up and attempted to recall the series of events that lead him here.
Dante was learning a lot about humans. When you wanted to go on an adventure you went to the tavern. That is precisely what he had done with the wanted poster rolled up and tucked into his belt. At a table he had rolled it out to read again and so others might see. The ploy worked well as two others approached him. The first was a male cleric named Fritigern and a well seasoned adventurer by appearances. The other wore a mask and gave nothing away by appearance alone. Dante’s memory of her was not strong, but he did recall her name was Suku. At times he remembered her strongly and at others he was not sure she was there at all. Surely the power of her masks had something to do with that. The small group quickly agreed to pursue the job and they set off for the tower in the mountains where they met with the elusive and powerful, Auden Vecru. Along the way they encountered and slew a giant starfish along the coast and spotted a majestic catfish-dragon exiting the Silver Lake as they approached the mountains. Vecru tasked the group with traveling to the ruined Yoon city of Ryonga in the southwest to recover some books and mirrors. He wasn’t willing to go into detail about why he wanted these things, but he promised a rich reward, which suited Dante just fine. The masked one managed to do some scouting before they set off and discovered Vecru’s tower was guarded by unusual headless people, and had a musical cage nearby. Dante noted that information for later.
It was all flowing back to him easily now. The trip across the plains was not full of danger and excitement, but its own share of mystery. They saw a pair of great beasts with hooks covering their backs and found within a ruin a magical paint brush. They tested it and found that it bestowed upon its user the ability to paint anything they saw in their mind or with their eyes with perfect detail. Nearer to the city they came across some Wetu hunters (strange mummified beings) who let them pass with no trouble.
Dante’s head began to ache again as he recalled them entering Ryonga, an ancient Yoon city with many strange secrets. They came across a building partially submerged in sludge that reacted unusually to music. The waste appeared to biological in nature…possibly a byproduct of Yoon creation of beasts and constructs. Inside the building Fritigern recovered some books that might satisfy Vecru, but he was set upon by creatures not unlike flying squirrels that could stitch things together with vicious claws. Further in they fought and killed a large deer headed man with bells on his antlers, with a little help from a collapsing building. They managed to come away with some scrolls and a couple of daggers.
Dante’s head was pounding now. Recalling events was becoming more difficult. Like pushing through thick muck. The group approached the Exposition Hall in the center of Ryonga and received cryptic instructions from a large “stilt-creature” who appeared to act as some form of archivist. The Yoon thrived on creation of all sorts, it seemed, and in the music hall Dante had something to prove. This backfired. His music did not impress the Yoon or save him… Dante reached up and felt his face. He remembered. On one side his eye had slid down his face. The Yoon song of transformation has disfigured him badly. Started to turn him into an Echoman of sorts. The realization of this set in and he began to wonder if he failed the music or the other way around. Regardless, his connection to it was lost.
Dante tried to focus on his memories. Pushing the despair of his disfigurement from his mind. They had proceeded further into the facility to a statue room. A half ghostly audience gathered there. They could be touched, but offered little to no reaction outside of their appreciation, or lack thereof, of the art. In the next room they found the mirrors, along with four vagabonds destroying them. Dante’s head pounded so badly he could barely focus on the memory. He pressed on…recalling the next series of events as best he could. The fiends in the room were crying and apologetic, but this did not stop them from violently attacking the party. The encounter was bloody, violent, and quick. In short order three of the four robed figures lay dead and all three party members had grievous wounds but remained standing. The final man fled. Dante flung himself at the man, attempting to stop him without killing him, but received a knife in the gut for his efforts. Back in his dark room Dante fainted from the pain of remembering his own death.