This is part of a series called "Tales of the Magaambya," and is in my set of TTRPG Wrap-Up fiction. I am in several TTRPG groups, whether it be D&D, Pathfinder, or something else, and to keep track of the plot and keep myself on my toes, I write session wrap-up notes in the form of in-character journals. In this case, this is the grand tale as told by a bard of their personal adventures and exploits. It is based on the characters in a Pathfinder 2e game of Strength of Thousands that I run, which takes place in the world of Golarion.Consider this your warning that THIS SERIES WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE STRENGTH OF THOUSANDS ADVENTURE PATH FOR PATHFINDER SECOND EDITION. All within is personally written by me personally, summing up the exploits at my personal table, and are not at all considered "canon" to the adventure, and ABSOLUTELY contain deviations from the published adventure that I put in myself. But it will spoil the story, so beware.

Part 6

Storytelling

Fireday, Arodus the 7th, 4720 Absalom Reckoning

Scarred as a collective from a week of tasks proving our place within the hallowed halls of the Magaambya, our party of five rose on the Fireday, one week after arriving, with hanging dread for what remained from the last remaining branch, the Uzunjati. Your humble narrator was unconcerned with their task, as the Uzunjati are the branch responsible for the storytelling, art, and using the lessons of the past for diplomacy going forward. This Conrasu storyteller knew they would be able to handle whatever the bardic branch could throw at them.

The rest of the cohort, however, was not so sure. Exhausted from the day before, not even looking to the first three days, they were fearful of the day to come.

Thankfully, we were met rather quickly with this narrator's close future friends Okoro and Noxolo, an academic artist and gamer and a death-bound dancer and musician respectively, both talented storytellers. All sitting in the open grass on the first sunny day since we arrived, our two hosts sat us in a ring and informed us of the task for the day: to tell them of our trials through the week in the form of a story.

And how we did! It was not the easiest task for this bard to sit back and not steal the stage, but all members put in their best efforts to tell an engaging story of what hardships we had faced. All, perhaps, but Jhaan, who seemed determined to not participate through his brooding. While he made no impact on Okoro and Noxolo, the rest of us did, and we passed our test with flying colors. Done in an hour, we were told the rest of the day was ours to do with as we pleased, and that the next day, we could be inducted into the school officially with an initiation ceremony!

In celebration of our success, money in hand, we set to the Trading Bazaar to purchase nice clothes for the event, better weapons for our upcoming martial training, new armor (at Kahara's insistence, due to the impending gremlin threat she swore would come), and various accoutrements, including new beads for each of us to add.

While everyone purchased their goods, and stocked up, Kudra decided to seek out a fellow Taralu dwarf in town, Mareshki Stonehill, to dye her hair, accepting the life-changing event of joining the Magaambya as a good reason. Taralu, you see, dye their hair with incredible arcane dyes to represent significant moments in their lives. Hers, upon arrival, was a dark and stormy cloudy expanse, to represent the sky at her birth.

But now, as she stood in Nantambu, about to become a proper Initiate of the school, she took the color of the sky at her most impactful moment so far: Sitting on the roof of the Spire Dormitory in the light, misty rain on her first night at the school, sitting beside Jhaan as they shared a drink and stories of where they came from.

She dyed her long hair and beard a brilliant orange, with highlights of red, yellow, and purple, tied into a single long braid, her beard trimmed carefully. It almost glowed, showing her luminous nature and presence.

As a show of solidarity, she convinced the cohort to join her, Kahara dying a single dreadlock her brilliant orange, and Jhaan accepting a red stripe in his messy hair. Oyana rejected the offer, claiming she was pleased to be included, but that dying her hair was against her people's traditions. I, myself, took the leftover dyes and had them painted into the ridges along by back, decorating my ebbs and flows like the lakeside sunset.

With most of us dyed in some way, new playthings in hand, we went out for drinks, taking in the upscale tavern, The Black Crowned Crane, to celebrate the night, and after a reasonable number of drinks, returned to the dormitory to rest, eager to see the Introduction Ceremony the next day.