Friday, November 4, 2016

Anatoly's downtime tale...

Explanation: whenever the cancellation of the game is my fault and lasts more than a single missed session, I like to whip up a little narrative on what has happened to their characters, and depending on a dice roll each player makes, I access a random table I’ve made up (and expanded significantly over the campaign). This table can contain Faction points, EP (though I post about my Grim Hack rules, we still haven’t converted over except in one-shots), skills, characteristics, equipment, contacts, cash gains (or losses), new adventure locations, and just some bizarre shit. Most of the results are actually a combination of these things, with a scattered big gain for a single thing.

I usually just pass it on through group texts, but others may find some interest in this, if not mechanically, then for entertainment purposes.

Will post these as I finish them.

This time around since we had such a big break, I asked the players what their characters were attempting to do along with the result from their die roll, and tried to integrate, with the following results:

Anatoly, Initiate of the Sciences (Dale) – Smelling of black powder and sweat, Anatoly took a rest from his firearms practice, cleaning his weapon, when Mike Baker, the gunsmith, and Jim Larabee, the alchemist, approached him. “We’ve a new design, Anatoly, but it needs some field testing. As we don’t get out much, we’d appreciate it if you’d take it out with you on your adventures.”

“We’ll also give a quick once-over on how it works in case you need to make any, ahem, excuse me, field repairs.”

“What is it?” Anatoly said, picking up the strange weapon.

“A flame-thrower!” The two monks smiled and Anatoly shuddered. No good will come from this...

Days later, Anatoly hiked over to his plantation. Immediately, he knew something was amiss. Out of his new manse (rough construction completed only), his laborers pile out. “You came quickly to our call!’ “We only sent Olaf off an hour or two ago!”

“What!?! What are you talking about?” Anatoly looked about. Damn, looking good.

“Spiders!” “A horde!” “They spoke!” “They knew you by name!” “Submit or all shall die!”

“What was that last part?” asked Anatoly.

“That’s what that man said,” said Zareth, Anatoly’s youngest laborer, pointing at the tree-line.

The goose-bumps spread across Anatoly’s skin. In the trees was the man who’d identified himself as Snake some months ago. The Spider-Lord.

Anatoly triggered the supposed flame-thrower. Nothing. Those absent-minded bastards. He dropped to the ground, the arcane weapon in front of him. What did they say? Through the combining chamber to the pressure chamber…

He tinkered on the bizarre weapon as the scuffle of spider legs moved towards him. Suddenly, he heard the sounds of two babies crying.

Are you kidding me?

Wait a minute! Of course! Those idiots…

The spiders sprang forward, in the distance, Anatoly could hear the laughter of the Spider-Lord.

This had better fucking work. Anatoly depressed the trigger and fire bloomed forth, blue-white hot. The spiders were engulfed, their screams echoed through the trees. In a matter of seconds, six spiders, including two baby-headed spiders, are incinerated, their blackened chitin falling to the ground in ashes.

The laborers stood with their mouths open in shock.

“Holy shit,” said Zareth.

“Holy shit,” said the Spider-Lord, and disappeared.

I am Shiva, destroyer of worlds…

+Schematic: Flame Thrower, + Skill: Specialty Weapon: Flame Thrower, +Flame Thrower (3 fwooshes of ammo) Str 5, Cone 25’ length, 15’ apex (after successful research: Str = 6).

No comments:

Post a Comment