Okay, Caellath's sheet is exceptional, as always.
Our players are Pancaek, HighEndNoob, Pencil_Art, Lenglon, and Caellath.
On the 28th of the month of Fortitude, in the dead of Winter, the Kaiserin signed an edict of non-aggression, banning forthwith all internal conflict within the Empire until the season's end. This was drafted following Marco's rebellion on the day before, where a disgruntled farmer led about two thousand peasants to in a march toward the capital. They were scattered with a single charge by the Crown's heavy cavalry division, but to Augusta's advisors, this was only a symptom of a larger problem in the empire. While the Min clawed at Arinthia's borders and the Elvish kingdoms underwent a revolution of industry and progress, the Empire continued to stagnate within an intractible web of intrigue and feudal struggles. All this, combined with the sting of Winter, had been too much for Marco and the peasants he inspired. But the Empire at large was in a relative decline, and the Kaiserin saw centralization as the only way out. The edict she passed was a formal ban on all declarations of war between direct vassal states of the empire. Zeon, Berlina, and the Elvish kingdoms were exempt from the limitation, though they did not routinely go to war with one another. Agon did not even have reasons to invade or be invaded--the snakemen lived in relative peace in their little port villages on the banks of the great river. The climate was far too inhospitable for humans to settle, and far too remote for the elvish kingdoms to control, let alone the Dwarves or the warlords of Rama.
A blanket of snow lingered still atop the tiled roofing of city buildings, though the roads had been cleared by plow-cart in those places not trampled too often by pedestrians to amass any quantity of snow. The fields lay fallow in this time of year, although a well-timed ashstorm would entice peasants across the land to plant early--and lords across the land would also look to this as an opportunity to raise additional tax income. But those who stood the most to gain were the astrologers, the prognosticators and interpreters that drew conclusions from the motions of celestial objects. This was a class of questionably talented men and women who nonetheless were looked up to as examples of lowborn peasants, burghers, and courtiers rising up to a position of status. The Duke of Vin sponsored the most prestigious council on astrological affairs, the annual Celestial Review, which used various charts and apparatuses to predict that the next Ashstorm would be sometime near the end of the season. They were unable to predict how long it would be, not could they tell if it would be seen during the day. But regardless, there was something to look forward to at the end of Winter, and to the Kaiserin this meant national stability and prosperity, perhaps the start of a better age. The effects of climate and celestial events should not be discounted in their ability to bring about the downfall--and the rise--of great empires.
On your way to the capital, you happen upon a pair of troublesome folk sprinting down the dirt path and trampling the shrubbery the monks had thoughtfully placed on the margins of the road. One of them had attempted to push you out of the way, but he ended up slamming into your shoulder and bouncing off only to land on his rear end. The other one rushes to help him but, but you can't exactly say you're not disappointed.
Aside from yourself and the troublemakers, you are alone, surrounded on all sides by fallow cropland. Up ahead is a sign indicating the former presence of a since-forgotten noble's castle. Now, however, the sign's text has been crossed out in animal's blood and replaced with the name "Barony of Ardour."
...
You have a large greatbow (Attack power: 3 (charged), 1 (uncharged)) (charging takes one turn of preparation)
You have 14 arrows in your quiver (Attack power: 1)
You have an important scroll in a copper cylinder
You have a moderate sum of cash
Traits and Skills:
Man of Steel
>Gain +1 positive dice when using melee weapons
>Your opponents get +1 negative dice when attacking you
Fists like Hammers
>Gain an additional +1 positive dice while unarmed
Bow Mastery
>Your targets get +2 negative dice when you target them with a bow
Illiterate
>What's a book?
Amnesia
>You have forgotten many things
Injuries:
none
Curses and fulminations! The beggar misled you!
Your anger is directed toward a particular old man you encountered on the side of the road. He claimed to have been robbed by the brigands you happen to be tracking, then stated they travelled to the barony of Ardour on the road just south. There were no signs at the particular intersection, so perhaps you were equally foolish to trust him, but regardless, there was no barony here! There was but a shack, owned by some peasant farmer, who informed you that his lord passed away a decade ago, and his castle torn down. The peasant could not even recall the name of the lord or his castle, let alone guide you further, but he was fairly certain there was no barony called Ardour in half a mile.
Perhaps the beggar was bribed by the brigands. After all, they knew of your presence and of your chase. You chased them out of a Tyron inn just hours ago, after they made a ruckus insulting the mother of a famous wrestler.
The road turns in front of the peasant hovel, leading toward the heart of Harold's Forest. The way back will return you to the main road connecting Tyron to the capital of Vin, the location of the Duke's palace.
...
You have a Beech Javelin (Attack power: 3 (thrown), 1 (stab)) (thrown attacks must be recovered)
You have 10 Javelin memories (strong)
You have a small amount of cash
Traits and Skills:
Forest Ranger
>Gain +2 positive dice when navigating and moving through the wilderness, as well as performing stealthy actions
Javelineer
>Your targets get +2 negative dice when you target them with a javelin
Noble's Education
>Gain +1 positive dice when learning from writing or conversing about literature
Shapeshifter
>Transforming into forest animals does not consume memories
Cynical
>Others will press any advantage...
Xenophobe
>Foreigners always disappoint
Injuries:
none
The capital at last!
You find yourself in the city of Tyron, the seat of the Kaiserin and home to an extensive palace complex, carved from the stone over years of Ashstorm-powered quarrywork and millions of man-hours' worth of labor.
The city itself is located in a trench, a valley located between Harold's forest and the forest of Elrik the Red, an old Borian pagan who mapped these lands long before the first Ost set his home here. The mountains to both sides, faces clad in snow, occasionally block the Twin Suns from view. This caused a swamp to form, or so the doctors and botanists say. But this swamp was not like the noxious, inhospitable swamps of the southern jungles. It was a marshland, yes, with many ponds and reeds. But it was not inhabited by hippos and crocodiles, animals of mud and blood, but rather by palm-sized creatures with the wings of a butterfly and a humanoid form devoid of features, with curved, spike-shaped arms and legs and a round head. These were called the faeries, and they are said to feed on human emotion, creatures of heart. They speak with no mouth, and hear with no ears. Regardless of the truth, the construction of Tyron caused the faeries to explode in number, and while they are mostly nocturnal in their activity there are always a couple fluttering through the streets, darting from home to home and attracting scores of young children.
Before you is an inn, marked by a ruptured cask of wine by the porch. The double doorway seems to be half-destroyed, with one of the doors set aside for future repairs. Through the gap, you see a few damaged tables and chairs set aside, stained red with wine. Or is it blood?
Further ahead is a marketplace catering to newcomers, young and old. There are tinker's stores and arms dealers, restaruants and broker's offices, bookstores and clothier's shops, and a big marketplace where young men and women of all strata are tasked with selling food brought over from the winter storehouses. Most of the fruits and crops for sale appear old and freckled, but the meat looks as fine as meat gets, preserved by the miracle of the icebox. Amid the stalls you find a stage with several musicians playing these strange instruments called "water guitars," with a set of strings bound to a wooden neck and a tank of water. The tank is connected, by animalskin tubes, to a black box offstage. The black box is fed by a massive bucket of water about four yards wide and tall, and is connected to two large horns, which emit sounds much louder than the music made by the guitarists themselves. The resulting sound is smooth and fluid for higher notes, but deep and grungy for lower notes. The result is a distinct style of music which you have never heard before, focusing on deep instrumental basslines and high-pitched, aggressive melodies.
Past the entry ward, you have the inner walls of the city. This is where the palace tower, carved from the ground itself as the rest of the city was dug deeper, and the Grand Priory of the Order are located. To gain entry, one must swear an oath of alliegience to the Kaiserin and relinquish all weapons on their person for the duration of the stay. Just outside these walls is the Grand University of Tyron, the largest and most prestigious in all the empire. Funded jointly by contributions from local monastic orders, as well as the Crown itself, the Grand University is where all government officials are trained in matters of philosophy, just rule, and the rigors of chivalry.
The city's exports are dominated by three major guilds, all three of which have their primary offices just outside the entry ward. These are the Stonecutters, the Cartographers, and the Astrologers. You also hear of a magician's guild in the works, but currently they do not have an office that you can visit.
...
A faerie sits on your shoulder, giving a shrill but barely-audible chuckle
You remember your time in the wilderness well
You have a fair sum of cash
Traits and Skills:
Mystical Learning
>You are skilled in the art of Aganis
Animal Handler
>Gain +2 positive dice whenever animals are involved, unless you are hunting them
Wilderness Survival
>Gain +2 positive dice for actions involving gathering natural resources, starting fires, tracking, and other survival skills
Photographic Memory
>Memories are knowledge, and you can morph what is into what was. Memories are always strong.
Cannot Speak
>Silence is golden
One-Eyed
>Your targets gain +2 positive dice if you attack them from a distance
Injuries:
none
Klein sits at your feet, purring gently as you sip from your tankard.
The past hour was an eventful one, most certainly not what you expected when you came here to relax. A pair of young men, with mouths bigger than their stomachs, entered a fight with a famous wrestler and strongman. The wrestler began his show by throwing one across the bar, knocking down an empty table. The strongman then lept upon the other, nearby beating him senseless before the first guy recovered and used a chair leg to pry the strongman off his friend. Before the situation could escalate further, the two young men fled the scene. A shady fellow wearing a dark green cloak on his shoulders and a javelin on his back took off after them. But the inn was left in disarray, and most of the damaged furniture was set aside for later repair all the while customers continued to pour in.
((For a description of the city, see the action above, reprinted below))
You find yourself in the city of Tyron, the seat of the Kaiserin and home to an extensive palace complex, carved from the stone over years of Ashstorm-powered quarrywork and millions of man-hours' worth of labor.
The city itself is located in a trench, a valley located between Harold's forest and the forest of Elrik the Red, an old Borian pagan who mapped these lands long before the first Ost set his home here. The mountains to both sides, faces clad in snow, occasionally block the Twin Suns from view. This caused a swamp to form, or so the doctors and botanists say. But this swamp was not like the noxious, inhospitable swamps of the southern jungles. It was a marshland, yes, with many ponds and reeds. But it was not inhabited by hippos and crocodiles, animals of mud and blood, but rather by palm-sized creatures with the wings of a butterfly and a humanoid form devoid of features, with curved, spike-shaped arms and legs and a round head. These were called the faeries, and they are said to feed on human emotion, creatures of heart. They speak with no mouth, and hear with no ears. Regardless of the truth, the construction of Tyron caused the faeries to explode in number, and while they are mostly nocturnal in their activity there are always a couple fluttering through the streets, darting from home to home and attracting scores of young children.
Before you is an inn, marked by a ruptured cask of wine by the porch. The double doorway seems to be half-destroyed, with one of the doors set aside for future repairs. Through the gap, you see a few damaged tables and chairs set aside, stained red with wine. Or is it blood?
Further ahead is a marketplace catering to newcomers, young and old. There are tinker's stores and arms dealers, restaruants and broker's offices, bookstores and clothier's shops, and a big marketplace where young men and women of all strata are tasked with selling food brought over from the winter storehouses. Most of the fruits and crops for sale appear old and freckled, but the meat looks as fine as meat gets, preserved by the miracle of the icebox. Amid the stalls you find a stage with several musicians playing these strange instruments called "water guitars," with a set of strings bound to a wooden neck and a tank of water. The tank is connected, by animalskin tubes, to a black box offstage. The black box is fed by a massive bucket of water about four yards wide and tall, and is connected to two large horns, which emit sounds much louder than the music made by the guitarists themselves. The resulting sound is smooth and fluid for higher notes, but deep and grungy for lower notes. The result is a distinct style of music which you have never heard before, focusing on deep instrumental basslines and high-pitched, aggressive melodies.
Past the entry ward, you have the inner walls of the city. This is where the palace tower, carved from the ground itself as the rest of the city was dug deeper, and the Grand Priory of the Order are located. To gain entry, one must swear an oath of alliegience to the Kaiserin and relinquish all weapons on their person for the duration of the stay. Just outside these walls is the Grand University of Tyron, the largest and most prestigious in all the empire. Funded jointly by contributions from local monastic orders, as well as the Crown itself, the Grand University is where all government officials are trained in matters of philosophy, just rule, and the rigors of chivalry.
The city's exports are dominated by three major guilds, all three of which have their primary offices just outside the entry ward. These are the Stonecutters, the Cartographers, and the Astrologers. You also hear of a magician's guild in the works, but currently they do not have an office that you can visit.
A prospective customer walks in through the gap in place of one of the entrance doors. A modestly clad gentleman in black and white, he wears the distinctive outfit of the Astrologers. Tipping his black fedora with white feather and stripe, he greets the bartender.
"Well met! I see that your establishment has been through some rough times this time of day."
"It has. I am terribly sorry, sir, but there are no open seats left. There was a fight--"
"No problem, I have nothing against standing."
"Alright, what'll it be then?" asks the bartender, turning to grab a cup.
"I seek a room. It's for a friend."
"Ah," the bartender holds the cup. "Do you also want a drink?"
The visitor shakes his head, so the bartender emerges from the counter island in the center of the bar. He begins to walk toward the staircase in the corner of the room.
You notice that the visitor has a pistol in a holster under his winter coat. Most guild folk don't carry guns in the city, although there are exceptions. They typically carry swords, but this one lacks any kind of bladed weapon in open display.
Meanwhile, the winter howls in from outside. The broken door allows in not only harsh weather, but the various insects and animals plaguing the street. Aside from the usual locusts and flies, a curious thing enters through: a greenish bubble with some kind of pink rock inside, buoyant in the air and susceptible to the airflow. Klein notices the bubble, and before you can snatch the creature up from the ground he leaps at the bubble, popping it with his teeth and consuming the small crystaline growth inside. Immediately the cat begins to linger at the doorway, meowing incessantly.
...
You have a Zweihänder slung on your shoulder (Attack power: 4) (can only be swung every other turn)
You have a Katzbalger in your sheath (Attack power: 2)
You have an arquebus (Attack power: 3) (Your opponent gets an extra positive die to dodge)
You are wearing light plate armor (incoming attacks lose 1 attack power if over 1)
You have a decent sum of cash
Traits and Skills:
Charisma
>Gain +1 positive dice when speaking with others and persuading them
Veteran
>Gain +1 positive dice to defense rolls, and your enemies gain +1 negative dice to their defense rolls
Swordmaster
>Gain +1 positive dice to attack rolls with long, bladed weapons
Sharpshooter
>Your targets get +1 negative dice to their defense rolls
Noisy
>You get +1 negatice die to stealth, and an additional +1 negative die if you are wearing armor
Old Pains
>In cold weather, without thick clothing, you get +1 negative dice to all actions
Injuries:
none
The capital city attracts men and women of prestige, and with them come all the pickpockets and cutpurses. [5][3] The one you slew just happened to be somewhat well-off, for a woman of that trade, at least. This one in particular held an embroidered banknote snatched from some unaware noble, or perhaps stolen from a clerk somewhere. Either way, it would be difficult to make use of it in a non-suspicious matter, so it only made sense for the perpetrator to be searching the alleyways for a fencer or some other shady buyer.
As the rush dies down, you assess your situation. Making your way through the capital has been an enornous drain on your attention and effort, as walking around on the open streets is unacceptable, not while the sky is pure white and snowdrifts line the walls. You'll stick out much like the black beetles whose trampled corpses line the pavement. The rooftops, paved with black masonry and welded with tar, are a much more forgiving environment for someone with your visual properties. Especially the large cathedral in the walled-off center part of the city. If you could cross those walls without drawing suspicion, you could hide amongst the pitch black roof tiles for ages to come.
The smell of blood seems to have attracted animals to the scene right away. Not dogs, mind you, but faeries. Little faceless men and women who laugh in your ear all day and flutter around on little butterfly wings. They say the faeries come from the lake of dreams, a place you are quite familiar with. That place is known for the madness-inducing midnight howls, which prevent any human from camping near it. Some say a banshee posesses the lake, and that the scream accounts for all the deaths that happened the day before. A difficult claim to test, for sure, but nothing too unusual given the mystery of the place. It never snows in the lake of dreams, nor does it rain. There is instead a mist that emanates from the shallow patches of the lake, coming out of springs in the crystal-clear water. There is an ancient castle near one of the beaches, built and fallen long ago. A testimony to pride and arrogance to some, to others a mere reminder to give nature the respect it deserves. Occasionally an adventurer or two may explore the castle to plunder abandoned wealth, but they always either turn up empty-handed, or never return in the first place.
The faeries gather around the body, as they are known to do around dead people. But they take an unusual interest in you as well, some of them breaking off and hovering close to your arms, legs, and face.
...
You find a switchblade in the cutpurse's inventory
You find a small sum of cash
Traits and Skills:
Secret Powers
>DoOOoobillidabidydappidydap dipigillidydapda!
Current Stat Modifiers:
+0/0 positive dice to attack rolls (Max 1/1)
+0/0 negative dice to enemy attack rolls (Max 1/1)
+0/0 positive dice to defense rolls (Max 1/1)
+0/0 negative dice to enemy defense rolls (Max 1/1)
Injuries:
none
It is the 2nd hour after noon, and the Twin Suns are obscured by a cloudy blanket.
Author
Topic: Pastblasters - Adventures in Wizardry (Turn 55) (Read 84451 times)