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.