Threads in the Canyon: Session Report
TL;DR
Arwen the archaeologist is dead; her spirit rose, accused Priscilla, and briefly commanded bone dredges and stonewraiths. The party calmed her, learned a benefactor named Erie Carlyle is involved, and discovered a Cloak of Soft Luminescence plus a sentient flying rug named Tim. They reached the Loom Spire, where a Fragment of the Blood King spoke—and claimed Erie has merged with it. The party withdrew with Priscilla in custody and several potent clues.
Cast & Context
- Arwen: new archaeologist in Dirtwater.
- Priscilla: Barvey’s old friend from Somaji; secretive about her project.
- Erie Carlyle: wealthy figure from Lucy’s past; met privately with Arwen & Priscilla a week ago.
- Party: Barvey (Guardian Galapa), Lucy, Leslie (fairy hedge witch), Lenox (faun warlock), Miasmus (fungal druid lawman), Arkady (sorcerer).
- Tim: a sentient flying rug.
Arrival at the Cliff
Priscilla ran into Dirtwater at dawn, frantic: Arwen needed help. She led the party three hours west to a sheer gray cliff wall (600–2,000 ft) with no obvious entrance—until Leslie flew up and found a cave. Lenox free-climbed; the rest took rope after Leslie anchored it. On the way, they noticed birds and lizards with colored threads growing through them.
From the cave mouth, Miasmus spotted six overgrown, eroded dodecahedral stone statues forming a half-mile arc around the entrance—visible only from above.
The Tapestry Hall
Light shafted in through ceiling vents. Priscilla urged quiet. The passage bent left into a gallery: tapestries facing the sunlit wall, depicting a stylized struggle—discipline vs. freedom, order vs. diversity—masculine and angular on one side, flowing and many-voiced on the other. The cloth was subtly enchanted: vibrant, whole, centuries later.
Barvey could not resist. He tore down a “chaos-side” tapestry for a cloak—loudly. A click echoed ahead. Nothing else… yet. Priscilla pressed them on, face tight: Arwen should be just beyond.
The Bone Gallery
They entered a sun-dappled hall with four empty freestanding frames. Hundreds of human bones lay scattered; Arwen’s body rested at the center—freshly dead, no wounds.
Priscilla’s face collapsed. “We were arguing… I heard something—an attack—and ran to get help.” She would say no more.
Miasmus relived Arwen’s final fear: a red spirit rushing through her—and then nothing.
Arwen’s spirit rose in a cascade of color—radiant, peaceful—until she saw Priscilla. Her form sharpened, clothes reddened.
“You did this! Murderer! By the Blood Prince, rise and avenge me!”
Bone dredges assembled. Arwen fought as a spectral captain. Two stonewraiths joined later. Barvey shielded Priscilla and took heavy hits. Lucy ensorcelled a brief parley: Arwen remembered the argument and a blast of power, but not the killing blow. Lucy offered truth for peace; Arwen agreed. The bones fell still. The other spirits dispersed.
Priscilla bolted toward a rear arch. Lenox and Miasmus pursued into a hallway of cloth. Miasmus webbed her; Lenox moved in to cut her loose… and the old fabric gave way.
The Cloth Below
Lenox and Priscilla dropped 15 feet onto layers of rugs and fabric. Dim, gentle light filtered in from behind. Blue glows fluttered around a soft red core.
Above, the rip widened. One by one the party fell or jumped—Arwen’s spirit drifted down, Tim would soon find his voice. A cloud of glowmoths circled the red light, which drifted toward the group, amplifying emotions—wonder, worry, concern.
Cornered, Priscilla confessed to Lucy. Erie Carlyle had funded them, offering a bounty for “spirit cloth.” Arwen kept the deal—and the find—secret. Priscilla saw the journal, confronted her, ripped the cloth; something tore free, the room darkened, a red force blasted through Arwen. Priscilla fled, then fetched Barvey.
Lucy demanded the cloth. Priscilla handed it over. Where to learn more?
“The Loom Spire,” Priscilla admitted.
Then thread-snared wolves padded in and attacked, pinning Arkady. The glowmoths’ dust sent Miasmus into a brief, blissful vision of communal care—echoes of the place’s past. The red core turned from distraction to damage, lashing out.
Meanwhile, Lenox felt the rug pile beneath him rising. He hopped off; a muffled “Ow!” answered his prodding blade. After some quick uncovering, the heap revealed a floating rug—“It’s been a very, very long time… call me Tim.”
As the fight closed, the red core cocooned, pulsing faster. Arwen sensed it needed calming. Lucy raptured it: the cocoon tightened, wove itself into a Cloak of Soft Luminescence, and settled glowing on the floor. Lenox claimed it.
Arwen reached toward Priscilla’s spirit cloth; tendrils of her essence were drawn in. She pulled back, shaken.
“If that was the Blood Prince, why me? What was he doing with me?”
Tim answered. The bolt was true spirit cloth—their people wove fabrics to hold spirits. This land strengthens rising spirits. The “red wind” was almost certainly the Blood Prince. A fragment sleeps in the Loom Spire. Tim could guide them.
The Loom Spire
Outside, late afternoon lit quartz and sandstone columns; rooms and halls of cloth stretched between them like bridges, many intact, some battle-scarred. Life everywhere had merged with thread—beautiful, grotesque, immense.
Tim led them around a column. A tall, freestanding spire of white cloth rose from a single point high above. They entered darkness.
Floating strips circled a central pole, rising like steps. Arwen’s spirit drifted up first; Priscilla balked; Miasmus gently urged her along; Tim followed, humming.
Mid-ascent, woven images echoed the earlier tapestries, now a dance instead of a duel.
Fifty feet up, the party reached a ledge of cloth. Above hovered a five-foot sphere of blood, threaded with ribbon.
A deep voice answered Lucy. “I am a Fragment of the Blood King. You know another part of me as Erie Carlyle.”
Erie’s voice—calm, cold—confirmed it: their land struggles; power is needed to grow; he had sent Arwen for the cloth; Priscilla’s rip released power that dragged his fragment through Arwen, killing her as collateral.
Leslie scouted higher. Blood hemorrhaged on the group. Above the sphere, two vast ribbon-winged serpents coiled in perfect tandem.
The party chose survival. They leapt and slid down the floating stairs. Arkady fell—Tim darted beneath to catch him. Another blood surge struck, but nothing pursued them out.
Closing the Loop (for now)
On the way back, Lucy asked if Arwen felt resolved. Troubled, she said yes—enough for now. Tim and Arwen remained: her spirit bound to this place, Tim keeping watch.
At the cliff, the rope was gone. The party climbed down carefully and returned to Dirtwater with:
- Priscilla in Miasmus’s custody (theft and manslaughter),
- Lucy carrying the spirit cloth,
- Lenox wearing the Cloak of Soft Luminescence,
- Barvey in his tapestry cloak,
- Leslie with clues to the Weavewrights,
- and a shared knowledge that Erie Carlyle and the Blood King are now entwined.
Threads to Pull Next
- Erie Carlyle: motive, resources, and where he’s operating from now.
- Loom Spire (upper reaches): the twin serpents, the fragment’s aims, and the meaning of the dance on the spire's wall. Blood Prince? Blood King? What?
- Dodecahedral statues: function of the arc around the entrance.
- Tim & Arwen: what Tim remembers of spirit-cloth rites and civilization; what Arwen learns as she lingers.
- Priscilla: legal and moral reckoning in Dirtwater; who else knew her patron was Erie?
- Ropes: what happened to those missing ropes? And what about that sound right after Barvey took the tapestry?
