Saturday 16 March 2024

AFF solo - Part XV: Secrets and confessions


Day 3

Another day on the march under the relentless sun. Ksandajja resorts to her weather charm to keep her skin from turning bright red.

It seems that nothing lives along this stretch of the route, for they encounter not a single creature as they plod on. They pass another rocky cliff pierced by a multitude of caves; perhaps the dwellers within have frightened off all other life.

That evening they walk on until the sun has almost vanished, for Novoldgan does not wish to camp too close to the black caverns.

That evening round the campfires...

Fhenteskeer has noted the contempt in which the caravaneers hold his friend, Grebdal Themp, and has taken it upon himself to do something about it. He sits before the crackling fire, regaling a group of road-weary traders with the tale of his little band's exploits at the frozen temple in the heart of the sweltering jungle. As he nears the climax, he invites Grebdal Themp over to tell of slaying the many-limbed mutant reptile, pretending not to notice the sudden ill humour of the others. Grebdal Themp's narrative is a first halting, but as he remembers the battle his excitement grows, and soon the traders are hanging on his every word, so much so they they assail him with questions at the tales end, and plead for him to share his side of the story of the evil cult that menaced coffer-filling Ângu.

[Etiquette at -2: 6 MAG +1 spec. skill +3 Silver Tongue -2 = 8- to succeed
2d6=2, critical success = 'we were so wrong about him. he's ace'.

Q: What does the duenna do after keeping an eye on Ilog since they left? make / letter
Q: How well has she been keeping watch? d6=6, extremely closely

I gave the other PCs Awareness at -2 to have suspicions, but atrocious rolls confirm their obliviousness...]

Elsewhere in the camp...

"You! Sellsword! How would you like to earn a bit of gold?"

Ilog wheels round to find the steely-eyed duenna looking at him with only half her usual scowl.

"That is highly dependent on what you propose that I do."

"It is a simple task, really, but worth [2d6x5=] twenty golden coins if it be carried out. When we reach Drammub, I will give you a letter to take to a certain [Majestically / Cold] noble personage residing there. I must stay with my charge and so shan't have the time to attend to this matter myself. But this personage -- that is, their servant -- will pay you the gold for this trifling errand."

"And why me? For I am warrior -- not a messenger."

"I've watched you, and several others hired for protection along this route; you seem the most trustworthy of the lot."

"Very well, I accept."

"Good. I shall provide you with the letter and the details of where to take it once we have arrived in Drammub."

[Onto Ksandajja's jealousy complication...
Q: What is the jealous party like? Innocently / Horrible; d6=m
Q: What is the substance of the problem? Enormously / Simple]


Still elsewhere...

Ksandajja is feeding the camels when the padding of velvet slippers on the hard-packed sand alerts her to company. She looks up to see Balsugan, the caravan master's only son, glaring at her with what he must take for a fearsome expression.

"You -- strumpet! When I tell my father about this, he'll abandon you to the trackless wastes to be murdered by bandits, or devoured by XLAIA, or -- or worse! -- unless you stop this instant! This instant, do you hear?"

"Stop what? What is it I'm supposed to have done?"

"You're trying to steal my girl!"

"I assure you, I'm not."

"Oh, sure! And the last few pretty mercenaries through here weren't after her either!" [knowing - history - knowledge]

"I'm just learning to fight without falling out of the saddle -- nothing more."

"Your lessons are over! Stay away from her or I'll give you a fight!" [hostile - combat - future action]

"Don't be ridiculous. I could reduce you to cinders with a word and a gesture."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I wouldn't want it to be necessary. How can I prove to you that I'm no threat? To your relationship, I mean."

"Stay well away! None of the others did..." [knowing - telling - last scene]

"Oh, by Asrel's blessèd knickers, this is too much! Come with me now and let's we three settle this once and for all."

[Q: Does he resist? Unlikely (5+): O1 C8 - no]

Ksandajja leads Balsugan by the hand like a wayward child over to where Telnah is repairing a broken saddle.

"Your little paramour thinks we've been having it off," says the sorceress. "Tell him."

"My little KRELL, there's nothing going on between us!"

"And he thinks I'm not the first."

"You wound me! I'd never be so faithless."

"So you've not had affairs with any of the pretty mercenaries who pass through the caravan?"

"No."

"No you have, or no you haven't?"

"No. I have not."

"I want to believe you..."

"Then why don't you?"

"You swear you haven't?"

"Not a one."

Ksandajja decides a little bit of magic is the only way to keep this exchange from lasting until dawn. She mumbles the words of a subtle charm.

[She casts Honesty cantrip: 2d6=7, success (only fails on a fumble) : Telnah must Test her LUCK/SKILL or reveal a recent lie: SKILL 8 (as mercenary cavalry: 2d6=9, failure.

Q: Was she lying? unknown 1d6=4: O4 C4 - no, but...]


"Really and truly?" says Balsugan as the charm takes hold of unsuspecting Telnah.

"Alright, just the once: with that MAN-ORC from Khul. Sometimes a girl likes a bit of rough.... why did I just say that?"

"Truth magic," says Ksandajja.

"Well, what about him then?"

"Sure. Tell us, have you ever had an illicit liaison?"

[His reply (1d6): 1-2 yes, 3-4 no, 5-6 equivocation: 1
casting roll succeeds; B's SKILL 5: 2d6=6, fail
Q: Truth? certain (2+): O3 C8 - yes]


"Ummmmm.... also just the once?"

"Oh," says Ksandajja, "is that my friend, Fhenteskeer? It must be time for our prayers. Sorry, must dash!"


Day 4

Ksandajja meekly asks Telnah if they can continue her lessons.

[Bargain (SKILL 6 +2 for Learned), 2d6=8, just
Q: How did she and Balsugan leave things? Enormously / Lonely - broke up]


Telnah says that she has plenty of spare time, now that she's single again. And it just might help take her mind off things.

[travel rolls: no encounter or event.
feature = cottage

Q: Who lives there? Nicely / Horrible - a hag
Q: Does the caravan leader have any knowledge of her? 50/50 (4+): O4 C2 - yes, and...
Q: What's she like? Nicely / Mighty]


Not long after midday, Novoldgan calls the caravan to a halt for a rest in the narrow strip of shade along a stony escarpment. Halfway up the cliff face Ksandajja can make out a rude structure of mud-brick clinging precipitously to the rock.

"What's that?" she asks the caravan master.

"That is the dwelling of a terrible, old HAG. She won't come out into the daylight, but fear of her keeps the bandits away, so I always rest the caravan here."

"I want to meet her," says Ksandajja. "Is it permitted?"

"Be my guest. But we leave when the sands of my hourglass have run down, so don't tarry."

The climb up the rock face is mush easier than anticipated, almost as if the hag intended it for visitors -- or unsuspecting prey. Ksandajja has left her sword with Novoldgan; she hopes coming unarmed will shew her to be absent of ill intentions. But she calls a bold halloo into the dark hut, for she must not display any weakness or fear.
HAG   SKILL 7   STAMINA 7
MAGIC 7

[Etiquette roll to avoid a faux pas with the Hag: 2d6=4, success]

An impossibly shrill, grating voice answers in kind, and bids her enter. The only light inside the dusty enclosure is the hag's cooking fire made from old bones, above which something greasy bubbles in a cauldron of beaten bronze. Ksandajja's nose wrinkles at the reek of carrion, but the rheumy-eyed hag is too blind to notice. She toddles over, squinting at the new arrival, then grabs her by the wrist in a grip like iron manacles. She pulls Ksandajja close, sniffing noisily at her skin and hair.

"Come not so lately from the jungle, have ye? And oh! the old magic ye tasted there. Very dark. Very old." [UNE: mysterious - obscurity - previous scene]

"That will lie hidden. I shan't go back to disturb it."

"Wise ye are, then. Now, what brings ye to the cottage of old Hlugkhas?"

"I come seeking your counsel. The road I travel is long and dangerous, and the nearer I come to its end, the less sure I am of how I am to proceed."

"There's none can tell ye that, child, save your own heart."

"But the foe I must face seems indomitable."

"And what foe be that?"

"Ymiasma, the so-called Demon Queen."

"Oh, she's a right horrid one. Wicked and hurtful, and a vicious tyrant. 'twere good her domain be so remote, lest she raise armies with a conqueror's fist. So great she is and awful -- even hiding in her fortress, she poisons the land. The Blue Wastes spread year on year, and the dying land surrounding them becomes lifeless desert. Ye're far from the first hero I've seen going off to meet her. If it be truly my counsel ye seek, then heed: turn back now, and forget this doomed errand. Greater than ye have sought fortune and fame in the wastes, and found only death." [prejudiced - dislike - power]

"I seek not gold, and have no use for glory. Yet must I see her evil vanquished."

[Q: Can the hag offer advice? unknown d6=1, 100%: O5 C6 - yes
(1d6) 1 item, 2 weakness, 3 ally, 4 defence, 5 secret, 6 riddle: 4
Q: What defence? Carelessly / Lonely]


"Then I'll tell ye what I told the others, though none ever seemed to hear it. Old Hlugkhas has heard her mournful sighs carried on the night winds. The Queen sits friendless and alone in her tower. She'll not harm ye if she wants to keep ye round for companionship."


next post: a new undertaking

Monday 11 March 2024

AFF solo - Part XIV: Caravan guards!

Yagk is a walled town built on an escarpment looking down onto the river [feature: fortified settlement]. The guards at the dockside gate are [reaction=7] decidedly uninterested, but let the travellers pass. The mood in the streets is subdued, as priests meander about blessing the fortifications in the name of Usrel, goddess of Peace [Cities encounter].

[Event (from last post): Introduce a new NPC - Recruit / Exterior factors
the NPC approaches (d10) 1 f, 3-4 g, 5-7 i, 8-0 k; 1d10=g

UNE--
NPC Relationship: friendly
Conversation Mood: sociable]


That night, Grebdal Themp is still drinking in the inn's common room long after his friends have retired. The only other patron present (excepting the tradesman passed out in the corner) is a middle-aged man in simple yet costly travelling clothes. They fall to talking in the disinterested way that travellers do, but Grebdal Themp gets the impression that he's being sized up.

L to R : Ksandajja the sorceress, Ilog the warrior, Fhenteskeer the fire-priest, Grebdal Themp the "stealth specialist"

He tells of meeting Ksandajja the sorceress in coin-clipping Ângu, and how she led them beneath the city streets to root out the cult of Decay. He speaks of meeting Ilog in Ulq, and following the huge warrior through the steamy, cannibal-infested jungle to the ruined temple of a forgotten demoness, where they put an end to to the evil scheme of a mad wizard. He tells how Fenteskeer, priest of Filash, called down his god's lambent flames to eradicate the undead menaces therein, how mighty Ilog bested the wizard's sorcerous creation with his whirling mace-and-chain, and how the sorceress at last defeated the wizard with spell and steel. And so too does he tell of his own occasional valour, as when he himself felled the wizard's mutated reptile-creature with his own swift blade.

"Those sound like quite the adventures! Though whether I should credit them or not... no matter. You say you're headed to Drammub next. My caravan departs for Drammub in a few days. We could use some extra guards on this trip; the desert raiders have been exceptionally bold of late, and they've been seen further west than Tross -- to say nothing of the other hazards of the wilderness! If you and your friends are looking for some work, come see me before we leave. It's safer with the caravan, and certainly more lucrative than paying us for passage."

"I shall put it to them on the morrow. But whom should I ask for at the caravanserai?"

"When I said it was my caravan, I did not speak lightly. I am Novoldgan, scion of the Venerable Trading House of Drund. I hope we shall meet again soon."

* * *

Grebdal Themp puts Novoldgan's offer before his companions, and they unanimously agree that travelling with the caravan is the simplest course of action. They go to see him straightaway, and after he interviews each of them in turn about their skills and abilities, decides to hire them all.

The next two days in the small town pass without incident. The briefest flutter of excitement occurs when Ksandajja finally finds a buyer for the hideous sacrificial dagger she took from the defeated Decay cult magician, and buys her friends a round of drinks to celebrate.

[I abstracted the interviews down to a single skill test for each PC (at +1, as they are the right sort for the job), based on what they are bringing to the table.

K: "I'm a sorceress." MAGIC 5 + Sorcery 2 +1 =8; 2d6=7, ok
I: "Check out these thews. They are mighty, no?" SKILL 7 + Strength 2 +1 =10: 2d6=9, ok
F: "My god will ensure the success of your mission." MAGIC 6 + Priestly mag. 3 +1 =10; 2d6=3, ok
G: "I'm surprisingly good in a fight." SKILL 7 + Swords 2 +1 =10; 2d6=8, ok ("No hard feelings, said Novoldgan, but I needed to be sure I had the right measure of you when I'm not in my cups."

They leave in 1d6=2 days

Pay is 8gp/day, per Heroes' Companion, mercenary soldier -- he's only paying for guard duty, not spellcasters/thieves/etc., even though he hired them based on what they bring to the table. Plus they get free PROVISIONS.

The fancy sacrificial dagger was worth 2d6=7gp; Ksandajja tried to sell it for twice that (she'd no clue of its value). The merchant's Skill/Bargain: 1d6+3=8; Ksandajja's 2d6+8-3=12 merch 2d6+8=11! An unlikely success enriches our heroine.

Each PC manages to spend 10gp in town.

Also, I gave everyone 50xp each for the jungle adventure, and they spent some to improve skills:

G spends 30 to increase Sneaking to level 3
I spends 20 for Bows 2
F spends 30 for Armour 3 (allows him to wear a leather hauberk, which he buys for 30gp, some of which he had to borrow -- he now owes Ksandajja 4gp, though she doesn't care enough to ever ask for it back)
K spends 20 for Second Sight 2]


At dawn on the day of departure, Grebdal Themp and his associates bid their goodbyes to the comforts of the inn, and walk through the sleepy streets to the caravanserai. They find Novoldgan already directing his subordinates as the final preparations are made.

The caravan comprises [2d6x2=] 18 camels laden with goods: exotic spices from the Baubauan jungle, grains from Ornut, rice from Ulisc, local sweetmeats, steel implements of dwarven make, bronze cookpots from Girnas, iron ones from Hmal. At least the caravaneers should eat well. There are nine more camels to bear the necessaries for the journey, use as spares, and for Novoldgan himself to ride.

There are [5d6=] 14 caravaneers in total, of which [1d6=] two are huge, taciturn warriors from the desert.

[Q: Any additional travellers? 50/50 (4+): O5 C4 - yes, but... just one
Q: Who? Helplessly / Beautiful]


There is but one 'passenger' travelling with them, a beautiful young [d6=m] bridegroom, off to marry a powerful [d6=f] merchant princess in Drammub. He is accompanied at all times by his bodyguard/duenna, a woman so sour-faced that she is rumoured to be merely a diminutive OGRE. [Should it come up, I'll use ogre for her stats, per Out of the Pit.]

DUENNA   SKILL 8   STAMINA 10

Novoldgan expects everyone to pitch in where they can, including the four new mercenaries he's just hired. Likewise, everyone is expected to defend the caravan as well as they are able. About half of the caravaneers are decent fighters, and even the young bridegroom wears a pretty little rapier on his belt.

The caravan master makes curt introductions, then sends his new employees to help with various tasks as a way to meet the rest fully. Fhenteskeer and Ilog are met with cautious acceptance; the next day's travel will prove their merit to the caravaneers. Grebdal Themp is regarded with suspicion and barely-concealed hatred. He can't think of any misstep he's committed, and reasons that perhaps they are jealous of his new and easy friendship with the boss. But when Ksandajja steps forward, they are all entranced. It is as if she'd ensorceled them with a Jewell of Gold, for they all instantly desire the friendship of the alluring sorceress.

[I'd rolled general 2d6 reaction rolls for each PC to see what the caravan folk think of them--
F: neutral
G: hostile
I: neutral
K: natural 12!

Q: Will the bridegroom take any interest in the PCs? 50/50 (4+): O1 C3 - no, but... the duenna will on day 1d6=1
Q: How many PCs? 1d4=1 PC; 1d4=Ilog
Q: Can Ksandajja find an instructor to learn the Mounted Combat special skill? 50/50 (4+): O5 C2 - yes and...

Travel Procedure: For each day of travel, there will be one daytime and one nighttime encounter check (1-2 on d6) + one event roll (1d6: 1 major, 2-3 minor, 4-6 none) + one feature roll (per the Heroes' Companion). For the sake of readability, I won't report the actual die rolls, or mention when they come up as Nothing. There'll be plenty of other game mechanics on this trip.]



Day 1

The caravan sets out into the hills east of Yagk. As they leave the river behind, the air becomes drier and the terrain less verdant. The heat is no where near as sweltering as in the jungle, but Grebdal Themp is still glad of his weather protection tattoo. He knows he'll be doubly glad when they reach the desert proper. The caravan moves at a steady pace, Novoldgan leading the way on his camel, flanked always by his foreign bodyguard, a grim and violent mound of muscle know only as 'The Zkkanj'.

The rolling hills give way to stony escarpments and gravel-strewn valleys, and the trees disappear almost entirely. Scraggly weeds cling to the rocks and sprout low in the sandy soil.

A line of cave mouths yawn on a cliff face. Several of the caravaneers invoke the names of their gods and protective genii at the sight. Perhaps their prayers are heard, for no horrors issue forth from the blackness.

Ksandajja makes the rounds of the caravan, getting to know everyone, though she does have her own purpose in mind. She's decided she needs to learn the art of mounted combat if her quest is to succeed, and the caravan seems the best place to find a teacher. And it indeed transpires that one of her admirers is happy to instruct her, just to spend time with the new favourite. Telnah is one of the camel handlers [Boldly / Rough], but [d6=] she was once a soldier stationed in Drammub's garrison.

[Ksandajja will spend 20xp to learn the special skill at level 1 by the end of the journey.

Q: Will anyone else get jealous of / unhappy with the attention? 50/50 (4+): O4 C8 - yes. After 1d8=2 days]


Telnah and the sorceress soon become inseparable, but jealous eyes are cast in their direction. And Ksandajja is not the only one whose every move is observed, and every word scrutinised, for the duenna has taken a particular interest in mighty Ilog. She watches him with cool detachment, silently planning her next move.

[Q: How does the duenna's interest in Ilog manifest? perceive / distance - spying on him

Awareness rolls at -1 to detect observation
Ilog: 7+1-1=7; 2d6=8, fail
Ksandajja: 6+2-1=7; 2d6=11, fail

Q: How long before the duenna makes a move? 1d4=2 days]


Neither barbarian nor sorceress have the barest suspicion that they are being watched.


Day 2

There is commotion in the camp as dawn breaks. Some time in the night, three spears were thrust into the earth before Novoldgan's tent, the author of this deed having eluded the sentries. The newer caravaneers are perplexed and frightened, but when Novoldgan emerges from his tent he greets the sight with a thoughtful smile, for he knows its import. He follows the line described by the row of spears off into the distance, and can just make out a forest-green tent on a far away hillock; a band of MOUNTAIN ELVES have come down from their craggy home to trade.

[Random encounter: 1d3=3 mountain elves
Q: Come to trade? likely (3+): O6 C7 - yes
Q: Can PCs pick up rumours from elves? 50/50 (4+): O2 C1 - no, and...]


Novoldgan and his lieutenant are the only ones allowed to approach the shy elves. They ride off on camels to do business as the rest are told to strike camp.

Grebdal Themp's curiosity gets the better of him. He tries to slink away from the camp and eavesdrop using a bit of minor magic he's picked up. If he can just see Novoldgan and the elves talking, his cantrip will whisk their words to him on the wind. But [Sneak roll fails] the only words he hears belong to a peevish merchant behind him.

"You there! Just where do you think you're going!"

"Er, um, just stretching my legs. I'm unused to sleeping out in the open." [Bargain (7+0) to stay out of trouble: 2d6=4, ok]

"Just you mind to stay where you're told to next time."

Novoldgan concludes his business with the elves, then the caravan sets off. The day passes without incident. A PTERODACTYL is spotted soaring overhead, but it has learnt not to fly too close to humans and their stinging arrows.

The day's only real danger befalls Ksandajja. In the course of her evening lesson, she makes a regrettable error of judgement and is knocked from her saddle. Her shoulder is sore and bruised from the impact of the blunted lance, as too her backside is bruised and sore from the impact of the hard-packed, sandy dirt. But she laughs and laughs at her own misfortune, and her admirers in the camp cannot but laugh with her. Yet there is one who feels no mirth, only burning hatred as the robust Telnah extends a hand to help the sorceress to her feet.


next post: danger in the desert

Sunday 22 October 2023

ItO solo - Part XI : The Star Being

"The Star Being... has... broken free!" gasps Zurzoria. "Those... fools thought they... could control it!"

"Sit down, my lady," says Ilmen, pushing a chair beneath her and then pouring a stiff brandy to calm her nerves.

"What is the Star being?" asks Bassianus once she is breathing normally again.

"Whatever horror you think the name implies is sufficient."

"How was it restrained?" asks Athalie.

"We, er, had it locked in a closet."

"Can we bind it again? Should we, even?"

[Q: Should they? 50/50 (4+): O2 C2 - No, and... ]

"No! And we should avoid it, whatever the cost. All who behold it have their souls stripped away by the cosmic winds. Now, you lot found a way in, so I assume you can find the way back out. Take me with you! Bring me back to the rest of the cabal, the ones on the outside. I have seen the error of my ways, and I have information to offer them which will be to their advantage." [scheming - agenda - family]

"What about me...?" mumbles Ilmen.

"Of course, you may come too. Are we all agreed?"

"But... my arrears..." moans Isabeau.

"Allow me to persuade them that whatever they may have initially asked for, circumstances have changed, and this discharges your obligation admirably."

"Let's go then!"

[+EVENT (from above): NPC negative - scribe - unavoidable Damnation : removing them from the NPC list...

Chaos increases now that the Star Being is loose.]



Scene 7

Chaos:
madness (d6)

Setup: escape

NPC List: the Superior Order, PCs' patron, villain, Tail, Zurzoria, Ilmen, the Star Being

Threads: investigate location, get out alive


They go hurriedly out of the retreat and towards the stairs to the basement.

[encounter, major personage (d3): 1 villain, 2 star being, 3 other councillor: 2]

They are almost to the stairway door when the lift descends and the gates slide back to reveal the Star Being. It has merged with the corporeal form of one of the council secretaries, but its magnificent radiance is overwhelming. Blue-white light emanates from it in a blinding aura, and the roar of cosmic winds deafens all within its reach.
[Q: What does it do? But, when I take the Universe for my Standard, how scanty is their Size, how contemptible their Figure!]

It takes no notice of the cowed mortals, strides past without so much as acknowledging they exist. The blue fires of untold suns blaze in its eyes, and the tiny quivering mortal creatures avert their eyes quickly so as not to meet its gaze.

[DEX saves all round to avoid its gaze : Athalie & Ilmen fail theirs. Those who made it take a mere d6 WIL damage, Athalie & Ilmen take d12.

Bassianus 2 dmg to 5 WIL, Isabeau 2 to 8 WIL, Zurzoria 5 to 6 WIL.
Athalie 5dmg to 12, Ilmen takes 11, only had 9...

Q: What does Athalie glimpse? SUCH is the Moon; and such are all Sublunary Things]


Ilmen withers in the harsh light from beyond; his ashes blow away unseen in the astral gale.

For the barest moment, Athalie glimpses an image reflected in the Star being's eyes. She sees herself and her companions as the Star Being sees them: how pale, how insignificant, how limited, existing as they do in only 11 dimensions. And how transient, their whole lives written like lovers' promises on wind and water*. She even sees the footnote.

* Catullus 70: « ...sed mulier cupido quod dicit amanti / in vento et rapida scribere oportet aqua »

The Star Being does not break stride as it walks purposefully past, though Athalie can not be certain it did not nod knowingly in her direction -- a fraction of a fraction of a micrometre.

Just being touched by the aura surrounding the Star Being leaves the others with a sickening feeling, as if they'd just come off a week-long laudanum bender. But Athalie feels a mordant emptiness in her soul, as if part of her psyche were torn off and hurled amongst the cosmic winds.
A voice sounds in her ears, at once familiar and far-away. "Dearest? Dearest! Are you still amongst the living?"

Athalie stumbles over her words a few times before her tongue remembers the faculty of speech. "What?"

"I said, 'won't you please wind my hand again, dearest'. It's run down again, and I can't open my fingers to grab the lantern."

Athalie helps Isabeau with her clockwork hand as Bassianus relights her lantern. He hands it over, and Isabeau leads the way down the stairs.

The cellar level is dark and mostly empty. The explorers find a servant in the giant silkworms' vaulted chamber who is too drunk to notice them file past [4 Oracle questions to figure out this non-event deleted]. In the utensil room they find three more servants searching for weapons by candlelight.

"Let us pass," says Zurzoria. [Wil save=4, ok]

One curtsies, the other two grunt and go about their business. The explorers reach the stairs to the sub-basement without further incident.

"Where's Chatterton?" asks Athalie at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Gone!" exclaims Bassianus. "Probably stolen by a fleeing servant, I'll wager."

"Is it wrong of me to feel a little relieved?" asks Isabeau. "Only I wasn't sure how to tell him about Mortine."

[For the trip back, I'll be counting down the turns/areas from the Random Location Crafting. As usual, there's a 1-in-6 chance of encounters in each.]

[T12]

They file out of the hole they'd broken through the bricked-over wall at in the sub-basement, firearms readied. They look about furtively for signs of any one --or anything-- lurking in the dismal concrete tunnel.

[Athalie's WIL save succeeds, so...
Q: Any signs? unlikely (5+): O6 C6 - yes
+Event: NPC negative - the Superior Order (will wait until the PCs reach their location to figure out what happened)
Q: Signs: Waters drop, incessantly, from, the Eves =blood trail
Q: The way the PCs are going? 50/50 (4+): O3 C2 - no, and...]


"Look!" cries Athalie. "A trail of blood! It starts there on the steps and leads off that way."

"Which way are we going? asks Zurzoria

"T'other," says Bassianus.

"Well, good luck to whoever else got away!"

The explorers proceed back to the platform [T11], and Isabeau once again operates the pump car back to the basement of the ruined theatre [T10]. They then go up the rusting stairs [T10 Special] to the roof, through a trapdoor and down a ladder to the balcony [T7] out of theatre to the subterranean street [T6] where a terrible stench -- worse than the the ambient reek of the underground -- assails their nostrils. [encounter: stinking filth, bull, controls others]

A bull blocks their path. The creature stands proud and erect, and would cut a commanding figure were it not for the malodorous secretions matting its long shaggy coat into an oily tangle.

Athalie senses a glimmer of intelligence in its mien, and steps forward, intending to reason with it. [WIL save: d20= 18, fail]

"Please, gentle sir, we mean onl--"

The beast lowers its horns and springs at her.
Filth Bull
STR 14, DEX 6, WIL 8, 6 HP
driven to cause strife
Oily Horns: d10, next attack impaired from nausea
Sow Confusion: each round, a random target must make WIL save or turn on friends until bull dead (automatic power, functions even when unconscious)


[Round 1]
The explorers unload their guns into the stinking creature, and it falls in mid-charge. [2+6+3=11 damage, to 0hp 9STR: d20=14, crit]

But even as the fallen creature's ragged breathing seems about to fade, [d4=]Athalie feels a psychic force grasping at her mind. [WIL save=2, success] She steels herself against its control and shrieks, "it's not dead!"

[Round 2]
Swords and an axe are brought to bear against the helpless creature. They slash and chop and cleave until Athalie assures them the danger has passed. [damage 9+4+11 = dead (attacks are Enhanced against defenceless foes)]

They reload quickly, then continue lest any other beasties lurk in the open. [d6=5, nothing else attracted by gunfire] Back they go through the hole into the vault [T5], over the marble floor [T4], and along the balcony [T3] to the long curving room [T2], and thence through the rotten dwelling [T1], and finally down the grand hallway to the bottom of the well [T0].

[Q: Is their rope still there? doubtful (6): O3 C3 - yes, but...
+Event: Ambiguous event - Every Object, a little while ago, glared with Light]


The dull grey circle above indicates it is still daytime. But the rope seems to be missing. No, not missing -- some <unprintable> passer-by has untied it and thrown it down the well. At least, thinks Athalie, it wasn't stolen.

Isabeau breaks off a limb from the vanquished iron serpent which will readily answer for grappling hook, then they take turns throwing it up the well and trying to catch the edge.

Suddenly an intense blue light shines down the well for a moment, blinding them all. They feel the push at their souls, but fortunately the diffuse rays of the cosmic wind wash over them only briefly [no WIL damage].

"The Star Being!" gasps lady Belial. "He's escaped the stronghold!"

They wait an extra long time [2 more encounter checks' worth] before continuing with the grapple throwing. At last it catches firmly on the side of the well, and one by one they scale the rope up to street level. Not a soul stirs in the empty square, though the feeling of being watched is palpable. They hurry away into a more populated district.
"Now that we're out of that dreadful undercity," says Zurzoria, "I simply must ask: wherever are those reprobates -- I mean, my esteemed and worthy colleagues -- hiding out?"

"They've taken rooms at the Despair & Anchor," answers Isabeau.

"How déclassé! But come, let us make haste. Someone, hail that cab." [Fastest way across town: d%=horse carriage]

"I'm afraid we're a bit skint," admits Bassianus.

"Not to worry, I've plenty of dosh."

[Q: Do they get back without incident? likely (3+): O4 C4 - yes, but... takes longer than it should
+Event: PC negative - Isabeau - stung by the Serpent]


The inside of the coach smells faintly of sick, though the explorers cannot but wonder if its their clothing providing the odour; two trips through the underworld will do that. They are very certain that the cabbie is driving the long way round on purpose, but as they are feeling rather weary (two trips through the underworld will do that, too), they don't castigate the driver. And Lady Belial's paying for it, after all.

But what they have failed to notice is that a street snake had curled up in the back of the carriage, and was sleeping peacefully beneath the back seat all this time. And as Isabeau stands to (finally) exit the coach, she accidentally treads it underfoot, for which she is rewarded with a venomous bite [d12 poison: 6 to STR 11]. She kills the hapless creature with her sword, and Zurzoria spends the next 20 minutes remonstrating with the cabbie [her WIL save =2, success] who eventually refunds half the fare. Isabeau is still a bit wobbly when the cab drives off, but Athalie reminds her she's ingested worse of an evening, and they proceed arm-in-arm towards the public house.

[Q: So, what was the NPC Negative event that befell the renegade councillors (well above)? stand exposed to the reproachful indignities, of an insolent Rabble]
But a great and heaving throng has gathered in the square before it. And who should be in the stocks in the middle of the square but the very councillors they had come to see -- the human ones at least. Zurzoria goes in to the back room of the pub and is pleased to find Ludovico's trapped spirit and St Aubert, the cat, have been overlooked by the mob. Zurzoria shuts the door to confer with them in private, but returns a few scant minutes later.

"Well, this was a wasted trip," says Zurzoria.

"My arrears," whines Isabeau.

"Cheer up, my dear, whatever monies you may have owed are still within my power to strike from the record -- should the records still exist. I do hope the stronghold is at least somewhat intact, and there are some councillors still standing. Besides myself, that is."

"Oh. When you put it that way..."

"But come, let us repair to my residence for now. Tomorrow I shall send a messenger to the council chambers to see if any of them have survived."
~~ finis ~~




Dénouement

Having completed the adventure, the PCs are 1/3 of the way to the next level. They have time for a long rest, meaning all their Ability Scores are back to full, except perhaps for Bassianus' STR.

Bassianus was infected by the bite of the giant silkworm. Without treatment, he can't recover STR and will die in d4=3 weeks. I decided to ask the Oracle if he can be cured, but I decided all the interpretations in advance.

Oracle
result      Interpretation
------      --------------
no, and...  basically fucked
no          can try later
no, but...  opportunity during next adventure
yes, but... will have to trade Arcanum for it
yes         incurs  debt of 1d12x10 shillings
yes, and... remedy only costs 1s


Q: Can Bassianus find a cure for the infection? 50/50 (4+): O1 C4 - no, but...

At least, he has time to examine, and consume the contents of, the Mysterious Phial he'd found in the sub-basement: d%= insides feel cold, liquid metal coats bones - always have Armour 1.


next adventure: serving 1d4+1 masters

Saturday 14 October 2023

ItO solo - Part X : Whatever Madame requires

They wheel about to see a woman in a floofy ballgown descending the stairs above them. The gas lamps on the landing send shimmers across the satin and taffeta, and her intricate coiffeur is a-gleam with glass and metal ornaments of unguessable antiquity (i.e. last season). But most arresting are her eyes, hidden behind great crystal lenses which pulse and shimmer with a inner light. These last mark her indisputably as Lady Zurzoria Belial, one of the rogue councillors.

[Q: What is her immediate reaction? a Sample of his Beneficence]

"Well, this is unexpected!" she says. "Whoever can you be? And whatever are you doing here? And however did you get in?"

"Please, my Lady," says Athalie with an ungainly curtsey [DEX save d20=7, ok - doesn't fall down stairs], "don't be alarmed. We were sent."

"Sent? Whomever by?"

"By certain of your colleagues on the outside. They expressed some consternation at their inability to come in person, and tasked us with finding an entrance and reconnoitring the building, to report back on conditions within."

"I'm sure they were ever so worried about us! Or more likely, about whatever we're getting up to in their absence..."

"Well, indeed, I can't say their intentions are entirely altruistic..." [reaction - WIL save d20=4, ok]

"And perhaps I should welcome the, er, assistance they sent. For whatever differences of opinion divide us, I fear we've now a common foe. Perhaps I may be able to use you. Er, I mean, be of use to you." [friendly - aid - enemy]

"What, um, what are your terms?" asks Isabeau.

"My terms? Well, that, I suppose, will depend on whatever offer my esteemed colleagues put forth."

"I just want my council tax arrears forgiven."

"Is that all? I can surely see to that!"

"And we all owe rather a great sum of money to our patron," adds Bassianus.

"And just whoever is your patron?"

"I... I'd rather not say."

"We were cautioned against uttering his name aloud," adds Athalie.

"His spies are everywhere," whispers Isabeau.

[Q: Does she know their patron? likely (3+): O6 C5 - yes]

"Say no more," says Zurzoria, casting a glance back over her shoulder. "I suppose I could put in a word."

Zurzoria leads them down the stairs and into the little room beneath them with its agitated, wig-wearing occupant, whom she introduces as Ilmen Regal, one of the council tax collectors.

"Now, my good Ilmen, these people are my dear friends, and are to be treated accordingly. And they're soon to be your friends as well, for I am sending them to recover the Arcanum that the other councillors have so wrongly taken from you. I, of course, must maintain plausible deniability in case anything whatsoever goes horribly, terribly, awfully wrong. To that end, I shall distract the others in the building whilst you, my dear friends, recover the Arcanum. It's on the first floor in the room off the chemical laboratory, on the west side of the building. Find me or Ilmen when you have it. And don't go up these stairs -- I'll try keep everyone on this side."

Lady Belial flounces off up the stairs as the explorers return to the hall and then head east into a room with shelf after shelf of glass flasks [Präparate - preparations].

Athalie reads a few of the labels aloud. "Phosgene... arsenic trioxide... sodium arsenate... Strongbow... I dare say most of these are too toxic to handle."

They proceed with the utmost caution through the room and out into a chamber with work places [Arbeitsplätze] along one wall and movable partitions between. They see no one, and their footsteps seem overly loud in the stillness. They continue east through an unused room and further into an anteroom [Vorraum] with a line of comfortable wooden chairs and a magazine rack along one wall. Perched on one of the chairs is a nightmare insect, the size of a steamer trunk. The thing's carapace is gangrenous and decayed, but for every bit that sloughs off onto the befouled carpet, a new eruption of hard chitin grows elsewhere.

[encounter: weird thing
d%=decaying insect, regenerates]
Horrible Insect
STR 10, DEX 17, WIL 10, 4 HP
broken mandibles (d8)
regenerates 1d12/round until destroyed with fire, acid, etc.


[Q: Does it talk or just attack? 1d2=attack]

The thing buzzes and gurgles with malice as it leaps on three unsteady legs towards the intruders in its domain.

[Round 1]
They meet its onrush with bared steel. The blades bite deep, but despite the loss of several limbs the thing does not waver in its assault. [3+3+3=9dmg to 0hp, 5 STR; d20=no crit]

Its viscid mandibles snap at Athalie, forcing her back a step. The stench of decay coming off them makes her almost swoon. [5 damage puts her at 5hp]

And its wounds seem about to close up [regenerates d12=3, back up to 8 STR].

[Round 2]
Athalie recovers and cracks its head open with her sword. Bassianus caves in its shoulder with his axe, and nearly connects with Isabeau's blade transfixing the beast from the other side. It falls to the ground, leaking an upsetting pool of foulness. [5+3+2=10 dmg to -2STR].

"I think we're safe," hazards Bassianus. "It's brains are seeping into the carpeting."

"Athalie, dear," says Isabeau, "you're looking rather peaked. Maybe you'd ought to sit down for a moment."

Her stomach still in knots, she complies without protest.

Isabeau and Bassianus examine the door labelled "Arbeitszimmer für Assistenten und Praktikanten" and find it locked. They are poking about in the lock with their tools when they hear Athalie shriek. They turn about just in time to see Athalie standing on her chair and the insect lunging at her from the floor, only to be met by Athalie's blade with a sickening crunch. It once again falls back to the ground, twitching and gurgling.

[It regenerated d12=7 up to 5 STR; Athalie made a DEX save to avoid Surprise, and hit it for 4 dmg to 1 STR; d20=14, crit.]

"Heavens!" exclaims Isabeau. "I should have though of this before. What a silly goose I am!" She roots round in her pack and produces a flask of sulphuric acid, which she unstoppers and begins pouring over the insect in each spot that the regeneration begins. "I've been saving this for just such an occasion!"

"That flask looks just like the one you keep your drinkies in," observes Bassianus.

"Oh, I can tell the difference," says Isabeau, emptying the last of it over the chitin soup bubbling on the floor.

"Just stay on her good side, my dear," says Athalie, "and you needn't worry."

Bassianus has a go at the door and triumphantly announces he's picked the lock, then leads the way into the vast workroom [Arbeitszimmer f. Assistenten u. Praktikanten]. Rows of desks and benches are arrayed in the centre and beneath the windows -- beyond which only shimmering energy can be seen. Bookcases line the interior wall.

[I rolled 2 dice for an encounter as it's a big, useful place: encounter = servant. 1d4=1]

A servant is sweeping round the desks, [d6=]her white apron glowing purple with the eerie flashes of the energy field outside. She looks up as the explorers enter, and is just opening her mouth to say something when Bassianus snaps, "get back to work!" [WIL save=2, it works!] The startled maid lowers her eyes and goes back to her sweeping forthwith.

The southeastern door leads out into another little retreat [Retirade] smelling mostly of cigars, which leads out to a stairwell, mirroring the eastern half of the building. They file up the stairs to the first floor [erster Stock], and proceed north through into [Chemisches Arbeitzimmer] a chemical workroom with experiments bubbling away unattended on every workbench and counter.
The explorers move through it with extreme caution. They find the door to the chemical laboratory locked. Athalie gets to work on the lock with a metal utensil borrowed from one of the tables. [no encounters]

"We'd really ought to buy proper lockpicks," observes Isabeau.

Athalie mumbles something non-committal, absorbed in her task.

When they have gained entrance, they find the chemical laboratory [Chem. Laboratorium] to have been cleared of all furnishings. There is only a ghostly centipede floating in the middle of the chamber, undulating in a non-existent breeze. It darts immediately toward the intruders, shimmering with necrotic energy.

[automatic encounter: ghostly insect, fires death rays]
Phasmatopede
STR 9, DEX 10, WIL 12, 7 HP
Ghostly chitin (1 Armour)
Etherial Death Aura (d8 blast)



[Round 1]
They fall upon the creature with their weapons. Some blows swish straight through its semi-corporeal form, whilst others strike unyielding chitin. [3+4+3-3(armour x3)=7 damage to 0hp]

Waves of unwholesome force flash out from the thing, eroding the psyche and abrading the nerves. [A takes 1 to 9hp; I takes 8 to 1hp; B takes 5 to 4 STR, d20=2, no crit]

[Round 2]
Bassianus has the worst of it, but still he fights on beside his comrades. The thing soon loses cohesion under their thrashings, and drifts to the floor, leaking long wisps of ectoplasm into the air.

Another pull from their flasks is felt to be in order after the enervating effects of the creature's aura [short rest, no encounter], then they examine the southerly doors...

[Q: Is either one obviously more secure than the other? Unlikely (5+): O3 C1 - no, and...]

...which prove to be entirely identical. Bassianus shrugs, and tries the eastern one, seemingly at random. [1d2=this is the correct room]
The room beyond [Zimmer für Specialuntersuchungen : room for special examinations] appears to be a study or a smoking room, being decorated with tasteful paintings, wooden panelling, amply-stocked bookshelves, and first rate furniture, probably all antique. The only thing that is at all out of place is a pair of oversized bell-shaped iron helmets sitting upon the desk, connected at the top by a length of segmented brass tubing [Major Arcanum, d20=Mind Probe]. The explorers can practically feel the power emanating from the device. There can be no doubt but that this is the Arcanum they seek.

They peer at it, unsure of how to proceed. Some vile trap is certain to protect the device. Guardian or not, it can't just be sitting on a desk in an unlocked room, now can it? They search for traps, and find none. Then they search again. Still nothing. So they have a third go.

Athalie is afraid to touch it, so uses her sword to nudge it gently off the desk. One helmet tumbles onto the plush carpet with a dull thud. Despite the tubing, the second takes a little more prodding to push off after it, as they're both rather heavy [counts as a Bulky item]. The explorers stand over the helmets, staring down at them suspiciously.

"I-- I thinks it's safe to..." begins Isabeau. But the others call her bluff by not contradicting her, so that she feels compelled to go through with it and collect the item from the floor, lifting it by the connecting tube using her clockwork hand, lest the metal touch her skin.

[Q: Is it trapped? certain (2+): O1 C9 - no]

Nothing untoward transpires, so after they all laugh at their own paranoia, they begin to quickly and quietly (they hope!) retrace their steps. [1 encounter check per room traversed: 3,6,1 : minor personage]

As they reach the stairs, a creature of singular aspect is coming down from above them. It is the size of a sturdily-built man, and clad in an outmoded fashion, but its terrible head draws all eyes in as surely as it repulses the onlookers. It resembles nothing so much as the fossilised skull of a an extinct elephant. Great, downward-curving tusks protrude from the lower jaw, with its rows of exposed teeth. Empty eye sockets regard the explorers with brutish contempt. So arresting is the awful visage that one might nearly overlook the vice-like claws it has in place of hands. The thing stops short when it finds others on the stairs, and appears to be waiting for something.
Grank
STR 18, DEX 7, WIL 4, 12 HP
Vice-claws (d10, critical damage destroys a random limb)
Driven to carry out his master's orders, whilst grousing about it the whole time. Uninterested in anything else, unless he can complain about it delaying him.


[Q: What's Grank doing? dissipate the inward Darkness]

A steady stream of grumping and grousing issues from the cavernous maw. "'Go down to the cellar, Grank', they said. 'You're not too busy with all your other chores. Must make sure no one's left the gaslights on again.' Always leaving something going round here. If it's not the gaslights it's the chemical experiments. Can't ever finish a thing properly, not when they have old Grank to do it for them. Wastrels and layabouts, the lot of 'em. 'Fetch me my slippers, Grank. They're all the way across the room. You've certainly nothing better to be doing. And don't forget to polish the silver. And count it, Grank. The other servants aren't to be trusted.' It's not the servants stealing here, not that the masters want to hear it! Not that they'd listen to old Grank even if..."

The creature's monologue shows no signs of abating, so the bemused explorers rush down he stairs ahead of it, hoping it doesn't notice what Isabeau is carrying.

[d6=4,4,3,3,5,6,3 - no further encounters (roll of 1), or nearby footsteps/voices (2)]

They come back to Ilmen Regal's retreat [Retirade] without so much as hearing the footsteps of another being.

[Q: How does he react when he sees the arcanum? exemplary Conversation]

They are trepidatious about their reception, but Ilmen is on his best behaviour -- possibly having been threatened by Zurzoria. He ushers them politely into his retreat and offers them wine and cheap cigars (they accept both) then launches into a long and desultory tale of how he came by the Mind Probe. [knowing - report - history]

[Q: Does anyone die of boredom before Zurzoria returns? Unlikely (5+): O3 C2 - no, and...]

It turns out that once he gets started, Ilmen can weave quite the tale. But I should not relay his words to you, dear reader, for fear his marvellous eloquence would too greatly overshadow my own.

[Q: Does Zurzoria come back before anything else happens? unknown d6=6; O6 C5 - yes
The Doubtful (6) odds imply she almost didn't, so what is going on? Emanations of Splendor]


He is about to begin an excursus on the known history of the Probe when a breathless Zurzoria bursts in.

"The Star Being... has... broken free!" she gasps. "Those... fools thought they... could control it!"


next post: cosmic terror

Saturday 7 October 2023

ItO solo - Part IX : The borough council's redoubt

At last! after an absolute age of attacking the venerable masonry with the pickaxe, a human-sized gap in the wall has been opened up. Beyond is a cramped stairwell, dusty from decades of disuse. Mortine thinks parading a pig through the secret council chambers is likely to offend -- more so than their invasion, in fact -- so she ties Chatterton to the bannister before they ascend to the basement level.

A dingy landing with passages to either side greets them. There's no dust on the concrete floor, but the unfinished walls are in need of a clean.

"So," says Athalie, "which way from here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," says Bassianus.

"Haven't you got the map?"

"No! I only stole the bottom level, so we'd know how to get in."

"Why didn't you steal the rest?"

"It had nothing to tell us of the current situation. Besides, I was afraid the librarians would hear if I tore out another page."

"He's right, my dear," says Isabeau. "Let's go this way. And we'd probably ought to sheathe our weapons until we know what's going on."


Scene 6

Chaos:
average (d10)

Setup: explore the council building

NPC List: the Superior Order, PCs' patron, villain, scribe, Mortine, Tail

Threads: investigate location

[Maps are of the Pathologische Institut of the Königliche Friedrichs-Wilhelms Universität in Berlin, from the BL's copy of  Die naturwissenschaftlichen und medicinischen Staatsanstalten Berlins (link) -- it's full of good hospital & university maps! The rooms are labelled, and are perfectly weird enough to suit the mysterious machinations of the borough council.

I looked over the maps once (in the process of choosing them) so I had a vague idea of the layout, which handily represents the fruits of Bassianus' research. Unfortunately, he only stole the plate with the sub-basement plan on it, so I covered the map with a solid opaque layer in GIMP and erased as the PCs explored.

Each room has a 1-in-6 chance of an encounter and a 1-in-8 chance of a useful/interesting/important item beyond what would obviously be in the room based on its function.]


d10 Encounter Item
--- --------- ----
1-3 servant useful
4-6 minor personage dangerous
7-8 weird thing spoils
9-0 major personage trap
Isabeau turns left (east, or thereabouts) down a cramped, odd-shaped corridor with alcoves set at odd heights in the wall. It opens into a small, dank chamber. The adjoining room contains shelf upon shelf of anatomist's tools [Utensilien]. Many of the tools are rusty with neglect, but on one of the shelves they appear to be clean and serviceable. None of the explorers are particularly in need of a new bone saw -- at least, not that any of them will admit! -- so after a cursory examination, they decide to press onwards.

They continue through to a larger open space with a low vaulted ceiling. All about are stacks of elongated wooden crates. No -- make that coffins [Sarge]. The room is cold enough, as basements go, but the odour wafting through the space tells the explorers that not all of the coffins are without inmates.

A family-sized jar of Dr. Whizzo's Instant Coagulatory Ointment sits unattended atop on of the coffins [dangerous item: bleed Balm]. Bassianus decides to pocket it, as several advertisements he read in a Paper of Record have convinced him of its wondrous efficacy. He doesn't believe the wild stories of mutations and death he's read about it in the more sensationalist newspapers. Or has he mixed up what he read where?
Dr. Whizzo's Instant Coagulatory Ointment: heals (or damages) STR by +d12-d12. number of points healed/inflicted x5% is chance of mutation


No one chances a peek under any of the coffin lids. They file silently through and then proceed (north) into another vaulted chamber, no doubt intended for more coffin storage. A leafy smell wafts in from the doorway to the north. Within the chamber the smell is more pronounced and joined with a sharp underlying chemical odour. [Experimentalthiere - experimental animals: automatic encounter (random picture)] Along the far wall is a tree-like structure cobbled together from wooden beams. At its base is a pile of organic detritus. [2d3=] Three giant silkworms are crawling lazily over the structure. They drop to the ground when disturbed by the explorers' entrance, and scuttle towards them, grotesque mouths chomping in anticipation.
giant silkworm
5hp
bite (d6 + disease on Critical damage: blood slowly turns to silk threads, no STR regeneration from long rests, fatal in d4 weeks)

The explorers draw their hand weapons (as no one wants to attract undue attention with firearms) and prepare to do battle.

[round 1]
Athalie and Bassianus square off against single opponents, whilst Mortine fights alongside (and sightly behind) Isabeau. The things leak a watery fluid when injured, but are undeterred by blows from axe and sword. Mortine lays one out with a crowbar to the top of the head, but is mildly unnerved by the crunching sound [it took Critical damage].

Athalie evades the snapping jaws of her foe [4 damage to 6hp] but Bassianus' clamps down on his arm. He feels a burning sensation followed by a heaviness in his limb as venom glands inject some sort of toxin, then his vision blurs and he slips to the floor in a daze. [5 damage to 0hp, 5 STR; d20=14, crit.]

[round 2]
Athalie runs hers through with her sword. It twitches and then collapses into a ball [Critical Damage]. Isabeau and Mortine rush to save Bassianus. Their blows dislodge the creature from his arm, but so worried were they about hitting their friend that their attacks merely annoy the creature. [1+2 damage, down to 8 STR; d20=1, no crit.]

But it turns said annoyance upon Mortine! The thing chomps down on her leg, and she too is overcome by dizziness, swooning at Isabeau's feet. [6 damage to 0hp, 3 STR; d20=crit]

[round 3]
Isabeau and Athalie skewer the creature from both sides in response. It moves no longer.

They must rouse their friends with a nip of the cheap stuff. Once they've collected themselves and decided that the poison is not an immediately problem [short rest, d6=no rand encounter, hp to full] they continue on their way.

The only other door leads east, so they pass through it to a laboratory full of glass apparatus on every conceivable surface [bakteriologische Untersuchung - bacteriological study]. Some of the phials, beakers, and assorted tubes are filled with still liquids, others bubble and froth of their own volition, and at least one is phosphorescing in the shadowy corner.

[Q: Is it super dangerous? likely (3+): O3 C7 - yes
Q: How? Business of Navigation - DEX save required to cross room without knocking something over]


The glass vessels are all interconnected by a series of slender tubes, forming a complex network round the whole of the lab.

"I don't think crossing that would be a good idea," mutters Isabeau.

"I believe you've read my thoughts, dear heart," says Athalie.

"Shall we retrace our steps?" asks Bassianus.

"Let's do!" says a relieved Mortine.

They retreat past the dead silkworms into the coffin storage overflow area [no encounters], then take a passage east to a small anteroom, which contains nothing but a door leading back into the laboratory, so are then forced to retreat again and try the other eastern passage. This leads to the bottom of a stairwell, where a sign points to a lift [Fahrstuhl] nearby.

They climb the stairs and find a door at the top. There's a short corridor beyond with the gaslights on low. The lift is opposite, and doors lead north and south. A threadbare green carpet of a design that was fashionable when our heroes were much younger attests to the occupation of this part of the council fortress.
"Let's see if we can find someone to tell us what's going on," whispers Athalie.

"We'd best douse the lantern," murmurs Isabeau.

"I'm sure our eyes will adjust," mumbles Bassianus.

"Do we put away our weapons?" asks Mortine sotto voce.

"Probably," says Athalie (sc. quietly). "But be ready to use them."

The floorboards groan underfoot. Athalie cracks open the northern door. "Halloooo," she calls in a particularly small voice. "It doesn't seem anyone has heard. Perhaps we should continue our explorations."

Opening the door further causes the mingled smells of camphor and decay to waft over the explorers. The room beyond [Sectiossaal - Dissection Room] is only lit from the corridor. Dissection tables are arranged in two neat rows. On one lies a monstrous corpse, its chest open and the flesh pinned back, with all its organs laid out on an adjoining table.

[Q: But is it dead yet? 50/50 (4+): O4 C3 - no, but... soon will be]

The thing strains against its bonds at the sound of the door opening, and a raspy voice issues from its distended maw.

"Come back to finish the job, have we? Have at, you foul fiends; do your worst!"

"It's still alive!" gasps Mortine.

"Oh! Begging your pardon, I though you were Doctor Butcher and [d6=]her cronies come back to continued their dashed experiments. Say, you couldn't see fit to unshackle me from this table, could you? I'd be ever so grateful, and of course, should you, some time down the line, find yourselves in a spot of bother..." [UNE: friendly - gratitude - future action]

"I don't like the looks of this place," whimpers Mortine.

"Nor I," answers Athalie. "Let's see what we can do."

The chains binding the monster are solid, but the padlocks securing them are enormous and old. It is but a few minutes work to poke about the locks' insides with a scalpel before the fetters are loosened and the thing is freed. [d6=3, no random encounter] As Athalie works and a sheepish Mortine guards the door, the Thing chats away pleasantly, relating the tale of its capture and mutation with extra-stellar matter, and the experiments which followed. It remembers little of its former life in bastion, but its name, [d100=] Katsun Offenpot, is engraved on a golden key fob amongst the Thing's effects discarded in a bin.
[cast of 1000s tables: gunsmith, unreliable genius

surviving PCs will be gifted high quality guns - with additional powers and disadvantages (but they won't be ready for at least 2 more adventures as I forgot to make a note of this at the end of my .txt file like I usually do.)

Q: Have the PCs heard of him? O6 C3 - yes, but... only d4=M]


"Oh!" interrupts Mortine as Bassianus reads the creature's (former) name aloud, "I used to work in a perfumery just a few doors down from your shop. They say you made the cleverest sorts of rifles. And there was that little buckler with a pistol built into it sitting in your shop window. How I always used to admire it, every time I passed."

"I shall make you a present of it," says the Creature, "if I survive this ordeal."

They help the Thing collect up its organs, shoving them back in the body cavity and wrapping it round tightly with bandages. They show it the stairwell and outline the escape route through basement, then give it a spare lantern and watch it lumber off on its way.

Closing the stairwell door quietly, they pass by the lift [Fahrstuhl], and go into [Saal für klinische Sectionen - clinical dissection hall] a larger dissection room. In contrast to where they'd met the poor experiment, this one has better lighting, seems much cleaner, and smells strongly of bleach; it is overall less dungeon-y feeling. The rows of tables are neat and spotless. But lest our company forget what sort of place this is, there is a long self full of specimen jars, with unidentifiable beings and parts of beings leering out of the formaldehyde.

[random item = trap : Sharpness of Death]

There is a door to the north, upon which is a brass placard, written in foreign. [Chirurgische Operationscurse und Section durch Examinanden - surgical operation courses & dissections tests] Below it hangs a hand-written notice reading 'Strictly No Admittance!!!'. Above the door is a pendulum-blade attached to a heavy iron mechanism.

"Do we dare...?" asks Bassianus.

"I might have an idea!" says Mortine. "Isabeau, darling, lift me up so I can reach."

She produces a glue pot from her pack. Isabeau bends down, then Mortine hikes up her skirts so she can sit on Isabeau's shoulders. Isabeau stands and holds as still as she is able [STR save succeeds] whilst Mortine coats the mechanism with glue.

Then they have to wait... and wait... and wait... [d6=no encounter]

"It should be set now," she says at last.

The others look on in silence.

"Oh, very well!"

Mortine turns the doorknob. There is an audible click from within, but, [DEX save to have done it right: d20=3, ok] fortunately, the glue holds the mechanism fast.

"See? nothing to fear."

Mortine opens the door, revealing a white-hot radiance within. She receives the full blast of its fury and is gone. The others throw the door shut in haste. Nothing remains of Mortine but a heavy whitish powder on the floor.

[Q: Why was it locked? The vengeful Flames

The Star-essence of which the Thing spoke is stored here. Mortine took d12 damage to 1d3=STR. d12=8 reducing her STR to -5.]


After a short rest to (variously) wipe the tears from their eyes / have a drink in Mortine's memory / say Kaddish, they file silently through the southwestern door into an empty hallway. [Short Rest, d6=no encounters] From there a door leads south to a stairwell with a door opposite [west] and a passage running beneath.

The little passage leads immediately to a small, cosy chamber [Retirade - retreat], smelling of dusty books and old tobacco. The lighting is dim, and barely penetrates the smoke suffusing the air.

[50/50 chance of encounter here: minor personage, which I rolled up on the Cast of 1000s tables in the Oddpendium, including their relationship to the council heretic/villain]
Ilmen Regal
-Tax collector, wedded into career
-powdered wig
-rival of villain
-found a major arcanum


[reaction roll=19, fail]

And old man in out-of-date fashion and a powdered wig appears out of the gloom, brandishing a pistol.

"Intruders! get back, or I'll use this!"

Athalie tries to plead with him, but he won't have it. She finds herself staring cross-eyed down the pistol's barrel, scarcely a finger's breadth away from her nose.

[Q: Does he take the shot? 50/50 (4+): O2 C7 - no]

She backs away slowly, as do her companions. They file silently up onto the stairs, out of sight.

"Let's wait to see what he does," whispers Athalie. Isabeau nervously draws her own pistol.

[encounter check whilst they wait: d6=1, encounter = major personage

Q: Is it the Villain? unlikely (5+): O4 C8 - no]


They stand guard some breathless minutes, all eyes and weapons trained at the bottom of the stairs. But it is soft footsteps and the rustle of crinoline above them that breaks the silence.


next post: a lady of rank