TheRedeemedOne

The Dead Don't Die.

Whew, done! Thanks for your patience, everyone; life kicked me in the ribs lol

The Dead Don't Die.

Joe Yamakami

Location: NYC, Outside Beyond The Veil

Skills: N/A

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He was never going to forget hearing the screech of sirens in tandem with the panicked barking of orders that careened upward from the sidewalk through the slightly cracked windows of his fifth story studio apartment. Joe had lived in New York for over twenty years and had heard a variety of sounds assault his senses, but what he heard earlier that day was different; it had panic laced with desperation that was confirmed by his flipping through various local news sites that proclaimed very, very strange things: cannibalistic behavior, sudden accidents and parts of the city being prompted to evacuate. He had checked his phone for notifications several times in-between the news scrolling, texting a few friends only to be greeted with affirmations that the news reports were indeed real, that something was enveloping the city that he called home.

There was an option to stay behind, of course; after all, as someone who came from a country that experienced disasters quite often, he was leery of becoming someone that gave into mass panic, but then again…the behavior that was being reported and exhibited from the brief conversations he had with friends across the city were indicative of a genuine fear response to a dangerous piece of stimuli; in other words, he felt the urge to take action, to which he did. A packed backpack later, he found himself on street level, where denizens zoomed by, traffic gridlocked, some cars abandoned in the helter skelter. His brow had furrowed, eyes narrowing; it would be difficult to utilize any of the normal modes of transportation to get off the island, but he did know of a way he could take on foot, past a bar that he had frequented several times due to a friend that insisted one of the regulars knew what good sakes was (she did not, but she knew about many other things, including how to hold a great conversation and…well, many other things).

Joe had managed to weave through the majority of trouble without a single spotting of what some were calling “zombies” (the behavioral analyst snorting a derisive chuckle at the idea of Resident Evil come to life), getting to within a hundred yards or so of Beyond the Veil. He thought he could spy forms inside the bar from windows positioned in the facade of the building, giving him some hope that he could talk to people abou-

A trash can behind him rattled, then slowly rolled towards him.

Joe turned his head, brow rising, nostrils flaring at the sight of a man (or what was once a man), tattered clothing exposing oozing sores and dried blood, a guttural moan passing through his (or it’s, now) lips. He turned back towards the bar, breaking into a trot as other figures emerged from behind him, converging on his location. Joe was about fifty yards away, but the former humans had gone from shambling to speedily pursuing.

He could only hope there were individuals in the bar who had some form of defense. Otherwise, he would be leading these creatures to more prey.

What Lies Within (Zoie/RedeemedOne)

Eyes snap shut, fists clenched, nails white. Breathe....breathe...breathe...-

His near ebony-colored irises were visible once again, gaze fixed on the unfolding sprawl of 39th and 2nd: cars flitting by in bursts, pedestrians barreling down the sidewalk, eyes craned downward more so than forward, prompting the occasional sideswipe or collision that elicited a variety of reactions, all of which contained some form of an expletive or disdain. He nodded towards the urban wildlife, registering it's presence as he shifted his eyes up towards the iconic skyline of the city, his thudding heart slowing to it's normal creep. He exhaled, his wide-shouldered frame collapsing forward for a moment before resuming it's normal, erect posture. The crystal blue hue of the sky, the radiance of the late Spring sun was more than enough to fully bring him back to the present.

For now.

He glanced at a desk tucked away in the left-hand corner of his living room, noting that his monitor had beckoned him with three new emails, a couple of slack messages and a reminder of an upcoming behavioral analysis debrief in fifteen minutes. While he was normally adept at responding to work communication, the mild accumulation was thanks in large part to this latest episode, which lasted...five minutes, from what he could remember. He made a mental note to book another therapy session, chalking up this latest relapse in sanity to what he believed was workplace stress, although he knew, KNEW that there was something much deeper going on that he just couldn't put a finger on. He snorted, remembering his last conversation with Diana, his therapist of the last few months:

"These episodes sound like bouts of anxiety spurred by workplace stress; a change of scenery might be good for you."

Right, as if a simple swap of location would work; no, he had to dive deeper, had to figure out why for the last year he was experiencing these bouts of nearly overwhelming panic, surges of overpowering desire to break free, to liberate, to BE something that he-

A call. Oh thank you.

Grabbing his headphones, he took the call, wiping dime-sized beads of sweat off his forehead as he forged the best smile he could.
"Joe! Ready to get going?"
"Yeah, absolutely, let me just go ahead and pull up my screen here..."
"Yeah, of course; hey, while we're waiting, just wanted to remind you about the gala tonight. Might be a good time for you to relax after finishing the project, you know?" Right, that.
"You know, Gary, I can't believe that we're already there. The Phoenix Group does know how to throw a party."
"A gala, Joe, a gala." Laughter.
"But seriously, make an effort to show up, alright? You've been with the Group for a couple of years now and it'd be good for you to get face time not just with the Board, but other folks in the tech sector. Never know what could happen." Yeah, never know.
"I'll think about it, Gary, for you."

__

The "gala" was being held at one of those "this definitely was used as an art gallery" office spaces on 45th, so not too bad of a hike for dress shoes and a suit. He had managed to stick around for the first twenty minutes without making a single sarcastic remark about their surroundings, the latest Phoenix Group AI initiative or his own work, which was progress considering his normal cheekiness. After summarily being socially dismissed from a discussion with two execs, Joe found himself by the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked midtown, the remnants of Jameson and ice floating pathetically in a cocktail glass. A few moments passed before he heard footsteps approach from behind.

Who was this visitor?

What Lies Within (Zoie/RedeemedOne)

First post to create the thread.

Woot

The Dead Don't Die.

Joe Yamakami

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Joe Yamakami

Character Quote: "Better to shine brightly for a moment than dwell in a lifetime of darkness."

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Character Summary

Name: Date "Joe" Yamakami
Aliases: Date (actual Japanese first name), Mountain God (rugby nickname)
Age: 42
Birthday: 11/15/1983
Ethnicity: Japanese-Anglo
Birth Place: Kanazawa, JP (until the age of 16)
Gender: Male
Pre Outbreak Occupation: Organizational Psychologist
Languages:Japanese (native), English (fluent enough, but second language spoken in home)

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Appearance

Height: 5'10
Weight:210lbs
Body Type:Barrel-chested, large hips, slim waist, athletic legs; the body of a former rugby player turned office worker/gym goer.
Eye Color: Black
Hair Color: Black with greying in the middle part of the hairline
Skin Tone: Amber/Honey
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: None
Personal Style:
Well-rounded, thoughtful style that blends casual comfort with a touch of intellectual flair. He favors smart-casual attire, such as chinos or well-fitted jeans paired with button-down shirts or merino wool sweaters. Loves to wear classic wristwatches combined with a trendy (ish) pair of glasses. Overall, his look is functional yet reflective of a diverse set of interests, combining practicality with a quiet, understated elegance. Hair is normally short to medium-length with minimal styling.

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Psychology

Affable * Over-thinker * Empathetic * Irritable * Approachable * Sullen

Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Divorced
Personality: Joe has a combination of charm, warmth and affability that allows for most people to feel extremely comfortable around him, which he loves as a result of his desire to help and nurture others. He enjoys asking questions, getting to know others well while minimizing himself, which can create either a grateful listener or someone who might think he's being aloof. Not enjoying the center of attention, Joe can withdraw in larger social situations or even at home when he feels pressured. When stress begins to bear down, Joe can grow sullen or irritable with minor things, although most of the time he can work his way through those moments.
Character Alignment: Hopeful Good (ha, I made that one up)
Habits: Clicking/unclicking pens, pacing, stretching
Hobbies: Rugby, Violin, Dungeons and Dragons
Fears: Being irrelevant, being forgotten, cruises

Likes:

• Rugby
• Classical Music
• Irish Whiskey
• Multiclassing in DnD

Dislikes:

• Selfishness
• Mistreatment of animals
• Vodka
• South Korean pop-stars

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Skills

Pre Outbreak Skills:

• Psychological Analysis of organizations and workforces
• Violin
• Coaching Rugby
• Behavioral analysis
• Cooking

Post Outbreak Skills:

What Do They Carry On Them:

• Clothing - Dark black jeans, Blue long sleeved shirt, sneakers, ordinary white socks, sunglasses (on person)
• Backpack that includes:
• T-shirt
• Athletic shorts
• 24oz Glass water bottle
• Cell phone

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History

Life Before The Outbreak

Joe was born in a modest home in Kanazawa, Japan to an English father who served as a nurse at Kanazawa University Hospital and a Japanese mother who owned a small sweets shop in the most tourist-heavy area of the city. Raised in a loving, vocal home, Joe was allowed to explore interests and found quickly that he gravitated towards creative outlets like writing and music, much to the chagrin of his more medically minded father. As Joe grew up, he found that he also enjoyed spending time with others, becoming quite the socialite and choosing activities that involved people rather than solitude, which included rubgy, a sport he would fall in love with, although his skill level would never match his passion for the game.

At 16, Joe's father was given the opportunity to serve at a sister hospital in the Lower East side of Manhattan. While sullen and morose at the idea of leaving his friends and the picturesque setting he had grown up in, the idea of exploring America was appealing and accompanied his parents to an apartment on 18th street which happened to be a bit larger than their home in Kanazawa (not like he had a choice; his father reminded him in a very English way that it was either come to New York with them or be a homeless vagrant with no financial support).

Joe attended the Metropolitan College of New York in Downtown and threw himself into Behavioral Analysis and Organizational Psychology. Upon graduating with his undergraduate degree and attaining an internship with a behavioral analysis consulting firm, his mother's mental health began to decline and within a year, she was diagnosed with early-onset dementia. His father, now approaching his 60's, told Joe that the plan was for him to move back to Japan where resources would be more plentiful for a Japanese Citizen with her unfortunate condition. This time around, instead of going with his parents, Joe stayed in New York, opting to visit his parents twice a year and calling every week.

Three years passed and Joe found himself as a junior behavioral analyst as well as a married man at 27 to Marisol Hernandez, a financial analyst born and raised in Queens. While the duo were attracted to each other's opposing qualities, the years were not kind to either of them. His warmth and affability clashed with her direct and at times rigid nature, causing them to throw themselves into their careers. At the ten year mark, they both realized that they were only going to live as roommates if they stayed together and filed for divorce (Marisol also told him about a one year affair she had been having with a co-worker upon deciding on a divorce, which only accelerated the process).

Five years have gone by since Joe moved out of their apartment and into a studio near midtown. While his career has gone remarkably well, he yearned to ascend to something greater...but what that something was eluded him.

Or so he thought.

Survivor's Personal Journal:
Initial arc

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Additional Information

Theme Song: Halo-Starset

Extra Information:
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

Favorite Zombie piece of media: Resident Evil video game universe. It's what introduced me to the genre and still to this day manages to give me a few scares.

Sample post
"Come on, give it up."
Nope
An exasperated sigh.
"You can't actually expect me to throw something like that."
Yes!
Another sigh.
"Just...come here." The stubborn creature ambled to the sigher, tail wagging furiously as it dropped the fragment of an Order of the Companion chestpiece, more than likely belonging to one of the many paladins that fell during the mysterious plague that occurred in this area not a few years ago. His deep green irises ran over the scratches and cracks, silvery black hair ruffling slightly as he shifted forward, running his hand over the solid white coat of who he considered to be one of his closest friends (Gale was slightly miffed by Scratch's place in the pantheon of friends, but then again, the wizard did enjoy giving Scratch belly rubs, so maybe they had formed an understanding).
"What a reminder." The half elf mumbled, tossing the chestpiece aside. What was it a reminder of, he wondered. The amount of suffering and death that this part of the Coast had seen over the years? Maybe the idea of a massive plague and people panicking in the streets hit too close to home; after all, it had only been six months since Baldur's Gate had withstood one of the most disastrous events in it's history, almost coming close to becoming the origin site of the final Grand Design (or at least, he hoped. Please by the Seldarine, no more Illithids). There were times even at home, sitting by their hearth in the quiet evenings, that memories surged back, threatening to drag him back to where he was only six months ago: trapped in that blasted pod, no memory of how he had gotten there, only knowing that his life as a monk in the Open Hand cloister had suddenly been upended.

He chuckled, rising from his once prone position. Maybe that's how his family had felt when he left Baldur's gate at the ripe age of 20 to discover the world, leaving behind his parents and younger brother to pursue a "purer" way than that of being minor nobility in Baldur's Gate. His father was grieved by his decision especially, seeing as Father had expected him to succeed him in his position as Assistant Chancellor of trade, wanting his work and sacrifices as one of the first High Elves holding position within the Coast. He had argued with Father before he left, railing against materialism, social caste systems and alienation from the self. It was all so moronic now, to not have just had an honest conversation with his father, who now along with his mother and younger brother occupied graves in the city as a result of a Bhaal cultist murdering them in broad daylight not too long before they arrived in the city (a legal missive had come from the family's lawyer, who received the travelers in the city and confirmed every horrid detail). No doubt Orin had ordered the attack to spite him, just like she tried to spite all of them. A vindictive smirk crossed his lips, knowing that the abomination was gone from this life for good.

He felt a gentle nudge at his leg, the half-elf looking down to see Scratch's tongue lolling out, eyes sparkling.
"You're right; no use dwelling on the past. Besides, our lovely Shadow is going to be wondering why it took us so long to retrieve ingredients for dinner." Indeed, he had set out when the sun was at it's peak, but now it was beginning to creep down towards the horizon. Their patch of happiness was located in-between Baldur's gate and Elturiel (or at least, what's left of it), but there were several small villages that dotted the path and Soubar, a walled town that was the most thriving in the area and had the best shops for the concoctions that he and Shadowheart created in the kitchen and alchemy lab (while not as good as his love at alchemic creations, he was getting the hang of it). Soubar was only about an hour's walk from their home, but maybe it was the detour to the chapel of Bane that he sidetracked him (no, not maybe, definitely). He hadn't had the courage to investigate the chapel until today, he and Scratch poking around the abandoned building to find little of value except for a few manuscripts written by zealots of Bane that outlined the god's teachings on cruelty and murder along with the chestpiece that Scratch had found.

"Nuvyen! Nuvyen!" The half-elf stood fully upright now, his broad frame (inherited from his mother's human side) striding forward out of the grounds of the chapel back into the town proper to greet the caller, who happened to be the shopkeeper he had been talking with earlier.
"I've got the Orchids all ready for you just like you asked."
"Wonderful. She'll absolutely love them, thank you." Along with the satchel of ingredients, Nuvyen had decided to purchase an arrangement of Night Orchids for their quite barren dinner table (all of their flora, fauna and crops were still not ready to be used thanks to just purchasing their land only three or so months ago).
"Tell the lady I send my greetings."

On the walk back, Nuvyen couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that this area of the Coast featured, especially due to being called "The Fields of the Dead". Tree lined paths, flora bursting out of seemingly every nook and cranny...it was actually quite perfect, which made their home and plot of land even more of a gift to be grateful for. They had roamed for three months after the Netherbrain was defeated, fending off Sharran assassins (while nearly naked. Fun times. He liked to remind Shadowheart of how great she looked while stabbing one of the assassins in the throat), going north to Waterdeep, somehow befriending an imp named Bing Bong that refused to stop following them until one day it suddenly vanished; yet, those adventures paled in comparison to the day a missive from Wyll had found it's way to them, telling them to meet him outside Elturel. It so happened that on his way with his retinue (because he had a retinue now) to sign formal treaties and do other political nonsense (his words) with the new government of Elturgard, he had passed an abandoned home with land that, upon investigation, had belonged to a husband and wife that moved out of Elturel and had died with no children to claim it. Remembering Shadowheart's love for animals and Nuvyen's desire to settle down somewhere, the Grand Duke purchased the home for the couple, asking only that they send some of their finest bounty to the budding refugee settlements that needed starter plants and seeds. It was a grand gesture on Wyll, but of course, their friend was prone to grand gestures in all things(Nuvyen remembered in the delirious moments after the Netherbrain was defeated, Wyll was the first to speak, waving his arms grandiosely, proclaiming that their names should be etched on the annals of history forever...or something like that).

Nuvyen could finally see their home, flanked by the aspiring gardens and plots of crops that they were tending to.

Home. He grinned.

"Go on, Scratch. I think someone else is going to want to see you." Their owlbear guardian should be around somewhere, which should mean that Shadowheart wouldn't be too far behind.

Joe Yamakami

The Dead Don't Die.

@Nallore

Sounds good. Just made the formatting edits, removed the post outbreak skills and listed the favorite zombie media.

The Dead Don't Die.

If you remove the . from the hr, the line break displays properly like this.

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@Carlyle

THANK you for that; those lines were driving me nuts, haha

The Dead Don't Die.

@Nallore
Edit: Ok CS is done. Formatting looks a bit rough, so let me know if I need to correct anything.

The Dead Don't Die.

Joe Yamakami

---

---

Joe Yamakami

Character Quote: "Better to shine brightly for a moment than dwell in a lifetime of darkness."

---

---

Character Summary

Name: Date "Joe" Yamakami
Aliases: Date (actual Japanese first name), Mountain God (rugby nickname)
Age: 42
Birthday: 11/15/1983
Ethnicity: Japanese-Anglo
Birth Place: Kanazawa, JP (until the age of 16)
Gender: Male
Pre Outbreak Occupation: Organizational Psychologist
Languages:Japanese (native), English (fluent enough, but second language spoken in home)

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---

Appearance

Height: 5'10
Weight:210lbs
Body Type:Barrel-chested, large hips, slim waist, athletic legs; the body of a former rugby player turned office worker/gym goer.
Eye Color: Black
Hair Color: Black with greying in the middle part of the hairline
Skin Tone: Amber/Honey
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: None
Personal Style:
Well-rounded, thoughtful style that blends casual comfort with a touch of intellectual flair. He favors smart-casual attire, such as chinos or well-fitted jeans paired with button-down shirts or merino wool sweaters. Loves to wear classic wristwatches combined with a trendy (ish) pair of glasses. Overall, his look is functional yet reflective of a diverse set of interests, combining practicality with a quiet, understated elegance. Hair is normally short to medium-length with minimal styling.

---

---

Psychology

Affable * Over-thinker * Empathetic * Irritable * Approachable * Sullen

Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Divorced
Personality: Joe has a combination of charm, warmth and affability that allows for most people to feel extremely comfortable around him, which he loves as a result of his desire to help and nurture others. He enjoys asking questions, getting to know others well while minimizing himself, which can create either a grateful listener or someone who might think he's being aloof. Not enjoying the center of attention, Joe can withdraw in larger social situations or even at home when he feels pressured. When stress begins to bear down, Joe can grow sullen or irritable with minor things, although most of the time he can work his way through those moments.
Character Alignment: Hopeful Good (ha, I made that one up)
Habits: Clicking/unclicking pens, pacing, stretching
Hobbies: Rugby, Violin, Dungeons and Dragons
Fears: Being irrelevant, being forgotten, cruises

Likes:

• Rugby
• Classical Music
• Irish Whiskey
• Multiclassing in DnD

Dislikes:

• Selfishness
• Mistreatment of animals
• Vodka
• South Korean pop-stars

---

---

Skills

Pre Outbreak Skills:

• Psychological Analysis of organizations and workforces
• Violin
• Coaching Rugby
• Behavioral analysis
• Cooking

Post Outbreak Skills:

What Do They Carry On Them:

• Clothing - Dark black jeans, Blue long sleeved shirt, sneakers, ordinary white socks, sunglasses (on person)
• Backpack that includes:
• T-shirt
• Athletic shorts
• 24oz Glass water bottle
• Cell phone

---

---

History

Life Before The Outbreak

Joe was born in a modest home in Kanazawa, Japan to an English father who served as a nurse at Kanazawa University Hospital and a Japanese mother who owned a small sweets shop in the most tourist-heavy area of the city. Raised in a loving, vocal home, Joe was allowed to explore interests and found quickly that he gravitated towards creative outlets like writing and music, much to the chagrin of his more medically minded father. As Joe grew up, he found that he also enjoyed spending time with others, becoming quite the socialite and choosing activities that involved people rather than solitude, which included rubgy, a sport he would fall in love with, although his skill level would never match his passion for the game.

At 16, Joe's father was given the opportunity to serve at a sister hospital in the Lower East side of Manhattan. While sullen and morose at the idea of leaving his friends and the picturesque setting he had grown up in, the idea of exploring America was appealing and accompanied his parents to an apartment on 18th street which happened to be a bit larger than their home in Kanazawa (not like he had a choice; his father reminded him in a very English way that it was either come to New York with them or be a homeless vagrant with no financial support).

Joe attended the Metropolitan College of New York in Downtown and threw himself into Behavioral Analysis and Organizational Psychology. Upon graduating with his undergraduate degree and attaining an internship with a behavioral analysis consulting firm, his mother's mental health began to decline and within a year, she was diagnosed with early-onset dementia. His father, now approaching his 60's, told Joe that the plan was for him to move back to Japan where resources would be more plentiful for a Japanese Citizen with her unfortunate condition. This time around, instead of going with his parents, Joe stayed in New York, opting to visit his parents twice a year and calling every week.

Three years passed and Joe found himself as a junior behavioral analyst as well as a married man at 27 to Marisol Hernandez, a financial analyst born and raised in Queens. While the duo were attracted to each other's opposing qualities, the years were not kind to either of them. His warmth and affability clashed with her direct and at times rigid nature, causing them to throw themselves into their careers. At the ten year mark, they both realized that they were only going to live as roommates if they stayed together and filed for divorce (Marisol also told him about a one year affair she had been having with a co-worker upon deciding on a divorce, which only accelerated the process).

Five years have gone by since Joe moved out of their apartment and into a studio near midtown. While his career has gone remarkably well, he yearned to ascend to something greater...but what that something was eluded him.

Or so he thought.

Survivor's Personal Journal:
Initial arc

---

---

Additional Information

Theme Song: Halo-Starset

Extra Information:
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

Favorite Zombie piece of media: Resident Evil video game universe. It's what introduced me to the genre and still to this day manages to give me a few scares.

Sample post
"Come on, give it up."
Nope
An exasperated sigh.
"You can't actually expect me to throw something like that."
Yes!
Another sigh.
"Just...come here." The stubborn creature ambled to the sigher, tail wagging furiously as it dropped the fragment of an Order of the Companion chestpiece, more than likely belonging to one of the many paladins that fell during the mysterious plague that occurred in this area not a few years ago. His deep green irises ran over the scratches and cracks, silvery black hair ruffling slightly as he shifted forward, running his hand over the solid white coat of who he considered to be one of his closest friends (Gale was slightly miffed by Scratch's place in the pantheon of friends, but then again, the wizard did enjoy giving Scratch belly rubs, so maybe they had formed an understanding).
"What a reminder." The half elf mumbled, tossing the chestpiece aside. What was it a reminder of, he wondered. The amount of suffering and death that this part of the Coast had seen over the years? Maybe the idea of a massive plague and people panicking in the streets hit too close to home; after all, it had only been six months since Baldur's Gate had withstood one of the most disastrous events in it's history, almost coming close to becoming the origin site of the final Grand Design (or at least, he hoped. Please by the Seldarine, no more Illithids). There were times even at home, sitting by their hearth in the quiet evenings, that memories surged back, threatening to drag him back to where he was only six months ago: trapped in that blasted pod, no memory of how he had gotten there, only knowing that his life as a monk in the Open Hand cloister had suddenly been upended.

He chuckled, rising from his once prone position. Maybe that's how his family had felt when he left Baldur's gate at the ripe age of 20 to discover the world, leaving behind his parents and younger brother to pursue a "purer" way than that of being minor nobility in Baldur's Gate. His father was grieved by his decision especially, seeing as Father had expected him to succeed him in his position as Assistant Chancellor of trade, wanting his work and sacrifices as one of the first High Elves holding position within the Coast. He had argued with Father before he left, railing against materialism, social caste systems and alienation from the self. It was all so moronic now, to not have just had an honest conversation with his father, who now along with his mother and younger brother occupied graves in the city as a result of a Bhaal cultist murdering them in broad daylight not too long before they arrived in the city (a legal missive had come from the family's lawyer, who received the travelers in the city and confirmed every horrid detail). No doubt Orin had ordered the attack to spite him, just like she tried to spite all of them. A vindictive smirk crossed his lips, knowing that the abomination was gone from this life for good.

He felt a gentle nudge at his leg, the half-elf looking down to see Scratch's tongue lolling out, eyes sparkling.
"You're right; no use dwelling on the past. Besides, our lovely Shadow is going to be wondering why it took us so long to retrieve ingredients for dinner." Indeed, he had set out when the sun was at it's peak, but now it was beginning to creep down towards the horizon. Their patch of happiness was located in-between Baldur's gate and Elturiel (or at least, what's left of it), but there were several small villages that dotted the path and Soubar, a walled town that was the most thriving in the area and had the best shops for the concoctions that he and Shadowheart created in the kitchen and alchemy lab (while not as good as his love at alchemic creations, he was getting the hang of it). Soubar was only about an hour's walk from their home, but maybe it was the detour to the chapel of Bane that he sidetracked him (no, not maybe, definitely). He hadn't had the courage to investigate the chapel until today, he and Scratch poking around the abandoned building to find little of value except for a few manuscripts written by zealots of Bane that outlined the god's teachings on cruelty and murder along with the chestpiece that Scratch had found.

"Nuvyen! Nuvyen!" The half-elf stood fully upright now, his broad frame (inherited from his mother's human side) striding forward out of the grounds of the chapel back into the town proper to greet the caller, who happened to be the shopkeeper he had been talking with earlier.
"I've got the Orchids all ready for you just like you asked."
"Wonderful. She'll absolutely love them, thank you." Along with the satchel of ingredients, Nuvyen had decided to purchase an arrangement of Night Orchids for their quite barren dinner table (all of their flora, fauna and crops were still not ready to be used thanks to just purchasing their land only three or so months ago).
"Tell the lady I send my greetings."

On the walk back, Nuvyen couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that this area of the Coast featured, especially due to being called "The Fields of the Dead". Tree lined paths, flora bursting out of seemingly every nook and cranny...it was actually quite perfect, which made their home and plot of land even more of a gift to be grateful for. They had roamed for three months after the Netherbrain was defeated, fending off Sharran assassins (while nearly naked. Fun times. He liked to remind Shadowheart of how great she looked while stabbing one of the assassins in the throat), going north to Waterdeep, somehow befriending an imp named Bing Bong that refused to stop following them until one day it suddenly vanished; yet, those adventures paled in comparison to the day a missive from Wyll had found it's way to them, telling them to meet him outside Elturel. It so happened that on his way with his retinue (because he had a retinue now) to sign formal treaties and do other political nonsense (his words) with the new government of Elturgard, he had passed an abandoned home with land that, upon investigation, had belonged to a husband and wife that moved out of Elturel and had died with no children to claim it. Remembering Shadowheart's love for animals and Nuvyen's desire to settle down somewhere, the Grand Duke purchased the home for the couple, asking only that they send some of their finest bounty to the budding refugee settlements that needed starter plants and seeds. It was a grand gesture on Wyll, but of course, their friend was prone to grand gestures in all things(Nuvyen remembered in the delirious moments after the Netherbrain was defeated, Wyll was the first to speak, waving his arms grandiosely, proclaiming that their names should be etched on the annals of history forever...or something like that).

Nuvyen could finally see their home, flanked by the aspiring gardens and plots of crops that they were tending to.

Home. He grinned.

"Go on, Scratch. I think someone else is going to want to see you." Their owlbear guardian should be around somewhere, which should mean that Shadowheart wouldn't be too far behind.

Joe Yamakami

The Dead Don't Die.

Thanks for letting me know! Will submit today