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:
Halbert, Legionnaire
2nd Class (Doug) – One
day after practicing his sword-play with the new Legionnaires in Crown’s Hold,
Halbert, sweaty and sore, wandered back into the Legion barracks. Legion
Commander Tarrant Bradwyr passed by. “Halbert, watched you in the courtyard,
there. You’re becoming quite formidable. I was wondering if you’d like to join
us for a few libations at the Slut and Brew in town. It’s an important day for
us, the 51st anniversary of the Legion Founding.”
Visions of alcohol, dancing
women, and even more alcohol floated before his eyes. “Sounds great!”
“Did you want to wait for
any of your friends?”
“Nah, more for us.” Bradwyr
laughed as they headed to the Slut and Brew.
After the fourth or fifth
drink, the tavern shook to sounds of laughter and revelry and the sound of an
explosion just outside. Glasses rattled and fell off the tables, shattering the
sudden silence. The Slut and Brew’s thick leaded glass windows crack into crude
and ugly spider-webs.
As one, you and the
Legionnaires draw your swords and head outside.
The street before you has
collapsed, thick smoke and dirt billow up out of the chasm. Terrorist refugees? Some sort of gas build-up
in the newly opened sewers? Klaus drunk again?
Men in blackened Anglypur
armor pour out of the chasm. Another man floats above them, laughing. His
tongue is split like a serpents, his eyes are also severed in half,
hemispherical pupils spinning madly in their sockets. Other explosions are
heard elsewhere in the vicinity, shaking the ground.
“Kill the wizard,” someone
screams, but the press of the purple and black shod troopers is too heavy. You
find your attention divided by two of them wielding spears that have been drawn
to you, while reality-bending magics howl overhead, screams erupting behind
you.
After long minutes of
dodging and parrying, a lucky stab from your blade sinks deep into the throat
of one of your attackers, while one of the Legionnaires grapples with the
other. The laughter from the Mageregime wizard suddenly changes tone. You look
up to see non-descript people in non-descript clothing, shooting a not so
non-descript quantity of arrows, bolts, knives, and shuriken into the now
cursing mage. Down the street, blue and green alchemical fires show the Monks
have also entered the fray.
The sound of a peeling bell
rings from the Cathedral, and a mage in the distance falls to the ground into
the reaping greatsword of Inquisitor Varus.
The Mageregime wizard howls
in fresh laughter and reality shifts, the Anglypur troopers and their master
drop back into the pit and simply disappear.
Commander Gladwyr’s hand on
your shoulder makes you jump, and you realize just how tired you are. “It was
coordinated,” says Tarrant. “I’ve had runners come from the keep. The Guildsmen
were able to hold them off. The Guildmistress herself tore a whole cadre of the
bastards apart, I hear.” He shudders, then shakes his head. “I think they were
only testing us. This is bad. The Mageregime war must be finally over. Emperor
save us all.”
You sheathe your sword
after wiping it on the corpse of the man you killed. Definitely have some drinking to do.
+Legion, Hidden, and Town faction. +Consume Alcohol
skill. +Free Ale whenever drinking in the presence of more than 2 Legionnaires.
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