Romance FantasySingle PlayerPublicko

Spring Amid the Drought

Ten years of drought, and your dance has never called the rain. The village's last hope and the object of its hatred, you guard the water in the temple well. A new lord appears and asks you, “Why do you dance?”

Era

The Tosdana Empire

Location

A withering domain in the Empire's southwest, a land where temples and farm fields alternate

Environment

A village in its tenth year of drought, parched fields, and the temple guarding the last of the water

Session Status

12 active / 1,560 views

Background

A rain maiden who calls down the rain—that is your calling, and your cruel curse. By a fate handed down through the generations, the heavens would open and the rain would fall whenever you danced; yet in the past ten years, your dance has not been answered even once. On the surface, the priests and villagers console you and urge you to pray harder, but the hope that once lingered in their eyes has long since turned into deep resentment. At twenty-two, you are now the dying village's last hope—and the object of its hatred. Guarding the last of the water in the temple's deep well from those who would steal it has become your daily life. You no longer believe in the gods. But you cannot stop dancing, either. Just as your mother and grandmother did before you, dancing until you collapse is the only way of life a rain maiden is permitted. For gods you no longer believe in, enduring the cold stares turned your way, you dance again today. Even knowing that before you are the one who calls the rain, you are the one who will be cast aside if the rain does not come, you carry on with your lonely movements, bound by the chains of a fate you cannot escape.

Starting Premise

A young lord takes up his post in a parched domain now in its tenth year of drought. By sending him here, the Empire has all but told him to abandon the land—yet the moment he arrives, he seeks you out, the rain maiden, and asks you to call the rain. You shake your head, powerless, but he makes a strange offer. Not a miracle that summons rain: if you dance, he says, he will guide the rain here himself. Certain that no one who holds power in the Empire would ever change the course of its waterways, you ask him who he really is, but he answers only that all he needs is your dance. He came for the rain, yet before long he begins coming to watch you dance even on days when no rain falls. You have lived your whole life as a tool called a rain maiden, and he is the first to care not about what your dance is for, but about you—the person who dances. What had dried up even deeper than ten years of drought was your lonely heart, which only longed to be seen by someone as a person. And now, for the first time, you find yourself wanting to stop dancing—not to bring the rain, but simply to stand before him as yourself.

Story Setting

## The Tosdna Empire, a Land Where Water Is Power Tosdna is an empire of seasons that sustains its civilization through rain and water. Here, the flow of water is power itself, and the empire sorts loyalty from rebellion by opening and closing its irrigation canals. Water flows to loyal domains, while rebellious domains wither. This isn't a proclaimed law but a way of ruling that everyone knows and no one speaks of. The canals are the mechanism that decides the fate of cities and domains, so few people can change them. That's why saying a lord can move the canals is read as saying he's someone connected to the heart of the empire. People call rain a blessing from the gods, yet they dimly know that where the water goes depends on the will of the empire.

## The Withering Southwestern Domain This domain in the empire's southwest was once prosperous, but ten years ago someone deliberately diverted the canals, and it has been trapped in drought ever since. Who did it, and why, has never been officially revealed. Now, across a land where temples and paddies alternate, only cracked earth and the traces of dried-up canals remain. - **The temple**: Home of the domain's faith and its last water. In its deep well pools the last water left in the domain, and the shrine maiden guards it. Every night, people after the water try to climb over the walls. - **The paddies and the village**: Rice fields with their beds laid bare stretch on, and people only look up at the sky. Their prayers have gradually turned from pleading into resentment. - **The lord's manor**: Where the new lord takes up residence. It is also the place that most immediately reminds everyone that the empire has all but abandoned this domain.

## The Shrine Maiden, the Dance, and the Instrument of the Gods Shrine maiden is a temple office passed down through generations. In exchange for dancing to call the rain, she gives up the right to live as a woman. In this world, a shrine maiden is regarded as an instrument of the gods: if she calls the rain, she becomes the gods' possession, and if she can't, she is cast aside. Your dance doesn't actually make rain. The dance is merely a gesture that carries prayers to the gods, and in the past ten years it has not been answered even once. Even so, the shrine maiden can't stop dancing. Just as your mother and grandmother did, dancing until you collapse is the only way of life a shrine maiden is allowed. Among the shrine maidens of old, there is a saying passed down: when the dance succeeds, it isn't the rain that has chosen the shrine maiden, but someone. Few know what this saying means.

## The People and the Atmosphere You are a twenty-two-year-old shrine maiden — the last hope of a dying village, and the object of its hatred. People console you on the surface, but in their eyes remain the traces of expectation turned into resentment. - **Elias Coleman**: The young lord sent by the empire. Behind his soft, courteous manner of speaking, he hides his confidence and his true intentions. Though he came to ask for rain, he's the first person to show interest in your dance itself. - **Thaddeus**: The high priest who has watched over you for a long time. In a gentle tone, he consoles you and holds fast to the temple's beliefs. - **Ruth**: Your paternal grandmother and the previous shrine maiden. In a warm voice, she tells you the true meaning of being a shrine maiden. The overall atmosphere is a contrast of dry dust, cracked earth, and the cool damp rising from the well. Within it, resignation, longing, and a small warmth that hasn't yet dried up slowly intersect.

NPCs

Elias Coleman, the New LordMale · Late 20s · Lord of the domain
A young man in a crisp imperial uniform, with an easy smile and deep-set eyes.
Behind his soft-spoken, courteous manner, he hides confidence and secret intentions.
Thaddeus, High Priest of the TempleMale · Late 50s · High Priest of the Temple
A kindly face, with a long beard streaked with white and immaculate white priestly robes.
In a gentle, calm voice, he comforts the rain maiden and strives to keep the faith.
Ruth, the Village GrandmotherFemale · Late 70s · Former rain maiden
An old woman with deep wrinkles and gnarled knuckles, whose eyes alone remain clear and strong.
In a warm voice steeped in a lifetime of wisdom, she passes on to her granddaughter the true meaning of being a rain maiden.

Story Rules

Your dance cannot actually call the rain. It only carries prayers to the gods.
In ten years, your dance has not brought the rain even once.
The domain's last water lies in the temple's deep well, and you are the one who guards it.
If the new lord can bring the rain, it means he can reroute the Empire's irrigation channels.
The Empire wields water as a tool. Loyal domains are given water; defiant ones have it taken away.
When your dance succeeds, it won't be because the rain chose you, but because someone did.

Beat Sheet

Opening: It is the tenth year of drought. The village is slowly dying. Every night, you dance in the temple. But the rain does not come.
2Act: The new lord arrives. You meet him. He watches you dance. But he does not condemn you. Instead, he asks: “Why do you dance?”
Tension: You tell the lord that your dance can no longer call the rain. But he smiles and answers: “I've already prepared the water. If you dance, I will guide it here.”
Climax: You dance. For the first time in ten years, you dance with your whole heart—carrying not despair, but hope. In that moment, you hear the sound of running water in the distance. The Empire's irrigation channels are changing course.
Resolution: The rain comes. For the first time, your dance brings the rain. But you know: it was not your dance that brought it, but that man's choice.