Friday, November 4, 2016

Zachariah'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:

Zachariah, Legionnaire 2nd Class (Bob) – As part of his plan to forge closer ties between the Inquisition and the Legion, Zachariah has spent time shuffling between the Hold and the town. Seeking to also plum some of the mysteries of Inquisitorial Magic, he was approached for a mission. As he has developed some ties with the Swamplanders, he’s asked to spend some time with them and investigate. Varus, Inquisitor In Station, is particularly curious about their agendas, if any, and in particular, the nature of their god(s).

After some abortive attempts at firearm training, he headed towards the docks. As has been usual, the Swamplanders greet Zachariah as a welcome friend. After a few days of wandering about the docks, getting to know the Swamplanders has proven difficult, as they are quite secretive despite their amiable feelings towards Zachariah. More strangers are appearing at the docks as the quality of life in Crown’s Hold has increased over the past few months, and the quality of the fish vendors’ product just gets more and more delicious.

The two Swamplander young women that had accosted you before have been much less ‘forward’ but are far more open than most dockworkers. You get some basic information about the worship of the Gods-In-The-Seas, but don’t seem to know much more than after a while, most Swamplanders ‘retire’ to waves once they begin to feel the aches and pains of old age. They convince you to come see their grandfather who hasn’t heard the call of the seas yet despite his advanced age, and who would be much more up on all this ‘religion junk.’

The girls lead you to a section of ramshackle huts on the shore of the river outside of town. Despite the appearance on the outside, the furnishings and condition on the inside, while not opulent, shocks you in their quality.

Their grandfather presents as a wrinkled but massive man, bent over from years of fishing off docks and boats. His eyes are wide and all-encompassing, and his grip when he shakes hands with you is incredibly strong. After a scrumptious meal, you talk long into the night with the affable man. As the light of dawn creeps into the windows, you see a twinkle in the man’s eye. You realize you cannot remember his name, nor the name of the girls. You try to hold on to what the man had been telling you all night, but it slips slowly, steadily from your mind.

“As you have been trying to increase the ties between your outsider factions, we, too, shall increase the ties with them through you…”

You awaken, groggy and naked, in a dark rocky tunnel. The way behind leads only into blackness, ahead you see a murky light. You get up only to realize you are underwater. You panic for a second, then realize you’re breathing fine. You remember the potion and the sunken city of Greymire and you quickly relax. You swim through the tunnel and swim easily up to the surface. The shore of the river is only a few yards away. You test to see if the potion is anywhere close to wearing off. You clear the water from your lungs and can breathe fine. That’s different. You submerge yourself and can immediately breathe the water again. You make it to shore feeling quite comfortable. Your gear is there, cleaned and neatly pressed. Extra coins in your pocket. You look around and see no one, a strange hill lies south off the shore. Something about that hill… You shake your head and what you’re thinking escapes you. You run your hands over your body. No wounds, but thick creases in your neck. Are your toes and fingers webbed? Hmm… Not really. Or are they?

After dressing, you make your way north to the town. You have brief glimpses in your mind as of a vivid dream of great underwater vistas, a great city of cyclopean stone, a submerged cylinder of metal that draws your curiosity, but are warned against visiting. A great ceremony, peoples half man, half fish. Nubile bodies, some human, some not. And names…

Father Dagon. Mother Hydra.

You make it to town. What should you tell the Inquisition? The Legion? You know you have offers to make. More rations of salted fish the Legion can handle. Information for the Inquisition on the quickly strengthening Anglypur Wizards and their movements along the waterways and coasts of southern Anglypur. And for a select few, immortality. Of sorts.

As your stomach rumbles, what you do know for sure is that the Swamplanders really need to open up a restaurant.

+50 GCs, + Swamplander, Legion, and Inquisition faction. You are now amphibious, and your swim speed has increased significantly.

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