This Quest is heavily based on the works of D. M. Cornish.
MONSTERS!
Since the beginning of...
MONSTERS!
Since the beginning of...
Monster Blood Tattoo Quest: Tales from the Half-Continent
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Post 1 - Origins
- Location
- U S of A
This Quest is heavily based on the works of D. M. Cornish.
MONSTERS!
Since the beginning of time, mankind has been hunted. The dankest, darkest places in nature spawn creatures of malice and hate, bent upon the destruction of human civilization. Yet humanity has not stood idle! Wielding ingenious potions, deadly devices, and strange powers, brave men and women strike out into the wilderness, turning the hunter into the hunted! Each kill they make drives the frontier back from the walls of the scattered cities, and earns the killer a MONSTER BLOOD TATTOO, a badge of valor won in combat against the ancient foe.
The Tools of Humanity
The Empire
Founded by Empress Atopian Dido a millenia ago, the EMPIRE is the largest political entity of the Half-Continent, and possibly the world. Ruled from the massive and opulent capital of Clementine, it can take 9 weeks to travel from end to end, even by the fastest ships. As a result, the Empire is ruled in a somewhat decentralized fashion, divided between numerous city-states and local lords. THE SEAT, the Empire's heartland, is the only area under direct Imperial rule. Order in the Empire's other provinces is maintained by the SUB-CAPITALS, administrative centers built to house the legions of bureaucrats needed to rule in the Emperor's stead. They also house actual legions of troops, as well as great fleets, to bring any rebellious locals to heel. Communication and trade are facilitated by the IMPERIAL HIGHROADS, or Conduits, a series of roads built by the Empire and maintained by the IMPERIAL LAMPLIGHTERS, protectors and enforcers of Imperial rule.The Current Situation
The Empire is in turmoil. Rather than listen to the protests of the STATELY LEAGUE, formed to protest the tyranny of his rule, the MAD EMPEROR Moribund Scepticus III asked for assistance from the TURKEMEN, the Empire's northern neighbor and longtime rival. Allowing them across the great canyon known as the MARROW, the Emperor was betrayed by his new-found allies, and besieged in the capital of Clementine. Hearing this, the forces of the Stately League, already on their way to petition the Emperor, night marched to the gates of Clementine, and fought a desperate engagement known as the BATTLE OF THE GATES. The battle seemed lost when HAROLDUS, the greatest Skold in the Empire, lead the Imperial Guard on a heroic charge out of the gates, slaying the Turkemen's greatest necromantic creation, the SLOTHOG, in single combat, though he lost his own life in the process. The Turkemen broke, and with their backs to the Marrow, their army was annihilated almost to a man. This was not enough for the Mad Emperor, however. He ordered what remained of his forces to attack the Stately League as punishment for their insolence! Fortunately, the Imperial Guard, disgusted with Moribund's madness, instead chose to join with them. Moribund Scepticus III, along with the entire royal family, were murdered by their own retainers and replaced by a distant cousin. Now, the newly crowned Emperor HAACOBIN MENANGES sits uneasily upon the throne, with the loyalty of his subjects in doubt, a hostile power on his border, and the emboldened monsters prowling ever closer to the homes of men. In these troubled times, it falls to people like YOU to preserve the glory of the Empire, and protect its people.
WHO ARE YOU?
[] The IMPERIAL SECRETARY - You are the eyes, ears, and at times, mouth of the Emperor in his many far-flung domains. Despite the somewhat unassuming title, Imperial Secretaries wield a great deal of power within the Empire, as the communication constraints of the era prevent the Emperor from directly administering many of his territories. As a result, it falls to people like you to maintain the strength and glory of the Empire in those areas his Majesty is unable to oversee personally. (This choice will lead to a story focused around the internal politics of the Empire, court intrigue, and navigating an entrenched and byzantine bureaucracy. Players will manage disputes between squabbling Imperial sub-states, uncover plots, investigate suspicious happenings, write reports, and occasionally bring the Emperor's justice upon those who defy his will. This is the intrigue focused route.)
[] The LAMPLIGHTER'S AGENT - You are an agent of the Imperial Lamplighters, protecting the run of His Imperial Majesty's Highroad, the Conduit Vermis. Reporting directly to the Lamplighter-Marshal, you perform a variety of vital functions, including negotiating with local lords, rooting out smuggling and other illegal activities, recruiting new lighters, and hunting down particularly dangerous monsters threatening the safety of the Highroad. The
(This choice will lead to a looser story arc built around the constant battle to keep the lines of communication and travel open in an environment where it seems nature itself has joined the battle against you. Players will encounter wandering monsters, smuggling rings, petty necromancers, underhanded schemes, and unhelpful nobles. This route will have a good mix of combat, intrigue, and monster-hunting, though it may not dive as deep into any one area. As an additional aside about the Lamplighters, think the Gendarmerie mixed with the California Highway Patrol and you'll get a decent idea of what they do.)
[] The WANDERING MONSTER-HUNTER - You are a Teratologist, or Monster-Hunter. Taking Writs of the Course (essentially hunting contracts) from beleaguered folk who risk life outside the safety of thick city walls, your skills have earned you that most desired mark - a monster-blood tattoo. Traveling to the recently settled Idlewild to take advantage of the fresh hunting ground, you are the one people call when something goes bump in the night.
(This choice will lead to a story focused around the attempt to pacify the wilderness of the Idlewild, a settlement project started as an attempt to both take advantage of abundant natural resources and push back a hostile frontier. Players can expect to hunt dangerous game, be hunted by dangerous game, compete with fellow hunters for fame, glory, and cold hard cash; and perhaps discover a few mysteries and secrets along the way. The wilderness hides many things. This is the monster-hunting focused route.)
[] The BORDER COMMANDER - You are the commander of a garrison posted on The Marrow, a great chasm that has kept the Empire's northern border secure for hundreds of years. It's been fairly quiet of late, as the Turkomans have spent the past few years recovering from their decisive defeat at the Battle of the Gates. However, there have been rumors that the Empire's old foe is stirring once more, and you and your troops may soon find yourselves thrust back into the fray.
(This choice will lead to a story focused around the struggles around the Empire's northern border, and will spend a good deal of time dealing with military matters both tactical and strategic, and all the complications that come from managing a force in the field. While all-out war is not guaranteed, it is a distinct possibility, and the players will find themselves right in the middle of the brewing conflict. This is the combat focused route.)
Vote for as many or as few of these options as you like. This choice will have considerable influence on the direction this quest goes in, so consider carefully.
Character Sheet and Important Information
- Location
- U S of A
Gender: Male
Occupation: Surveyor
Rank: Lamplighter's Agent
Inventory: 1 good quality proofed-leather longcoat, 1 set of proofed leggings, 1 Long Rifle, 1 pistol (heavily modified for increased power and penetration), 1 set portable surveyor's equipment (including dioptra, portable theodolite, astrolabe), 1 yardstick (modified for use as a melee weapon), several days provisions, 1 small camping set, 2 Certificates of Payment, 1 Jacksword, 2 full vials of Thrombis,
Funds: 7 Sous travelling money, 1000 Sous elsewhere in various accounts
Current Objective: Fortifying the cothouses along the road.
Occupation: Surveyor
Rank: Lamplighter's Agent
Inventory: 1 good quality proofed-leather longcoat, 1 set of proofed leggings, 1 Long Rifle, 1 pistol (heavily modified for increased power and penetration), 1 set portable surveyor's equipment (including dioptra, portable theodolite, astrolabe), 1 yardstick (modified for use as a melee weapon), several days provisions, 1 small camping set, 2 Certificates of Payment, 1 Jacksword, 2 full vials of Thrombis,
Funds: 7 Sous travelling money, 1000 Sous elsewhere in various accounts
Current Objective: Fortifying the cothouses along the road.
The Imperial Highroad running from the port town of High Vesting to the city of Wörms, in the Gottskylds. A recent construction not yet two centuries old, it is the only land route between the Gotts and the Empire, and a vital trade route (particularly when the sea-beasts are acting up). From the gentle hills of the Sparrow-Downs where it begins, it runs a course near directly East until it reaches the barrens of the Frugelle, meandering through the flatlands before diving into the Ichormeer, a dank and threwdish swamp that separates the lands of the Empire from the lands of the Gotts. The Conduit Vermis has 3 great forts: Winstermill, headquarters of the Highroad's detachment of Lamplighters; The Wight, a great bastion situated at the midpoint of the highroad mostly concerned with taxation and customs; and Haltmire, situated at the edge of the Ichormeer and largest of the three. The Garrison at Haltmire is locked in a constant battle with the monsters of the Ichormeer to keep the road through the swamp open and to prevent them from menacing the Highroad further west. In addition to these great fastnesses, there are also a series of smaller forts built along the road known as cothouses. Garrisoned by the Lamplighters, these fortlets offer shelter and supplies to travellers along the Highroad, in addition to reinforcing Imperial control of the area. In order from westmost to eastmost, the cothouses are: Wellnigh House, Tumblesloe Cot, Dovecote Bolt, Sallowstall, Cothallow, Sparrowstall, Howlbolt, Bitterbolt, Mirthhalt, Wighthall, Ashenstall, Patrishalt, Cripplebolt, Bleaklynche, and Wormstool.
The Imperial Lamplighters were initially founded for a simple purpose: tending to the lamps emplaced upon the newly constructed Highroads throughout the Empire. The simplicity of their task did not last long - frequent attacks upon travelling parties necessitated rapid militarization, and it was quickly realized that their constant presence on the road and Empire-wide Mandate was the perfect foundation for a policing and customs force. Accepting their new mission with gusto, the Lamplighters have come to be regarded as a somewhat elite force, and they take great pride in their duties to Illuminate the roads of the Empire, shielding them from threats both seen and unseen.
OFFICERS
Lamplighter-Marshal
[Major-of-House]
As a general rule, the highest ranking officer at a cothouse is awarded the title of Major-of-House, and is considered to be in complete command of all its workings and functions in the same manner as a Captain of a ship, regardless of their actual rank.
Lamplighter-Major
[Lamplighter's Agent]
Though theoretically outside the rank structure and operating independently, few officers would question the orders of a Lamplighter's Agent unless they felt they had a very good reason for doing so.
Lamplighter-Captain
Altern-Lighter
ENLISTED
Master-of-Lighters
Lamplighter-Sergeant
Lampsman-Corporal
Lampsman 1st Class
Lampsman 2nd Class
Prentice-Lighter
(Apprentice)
Lamplighter-Marshal
[Major-of-House]
As a general rule, the highest ranking officer at a cothouse is awarded the title of Major-of-House, and is considered to be in complete command of all its workings and functions in the same manner as a Captain of a ship, regardless of their actual rank.
Lamplighter-Major
[Lamplighter's Agent]
Though theoretically outside the rank structure and operating independently, few officers would question the orders of a Lamplighter's Agent unless they felt they had a very good reason for doing so.
Lamplighter-Captain
Altern-Lighter
ENLISTED
Master-of-Lighters
Lamplighter-Sergeant
Lampsman-Corporal
Lampsman 1st Class
Lampsman 2nd Class
Prentice-Lighter
(Apprentice)
The following is the equipment issued to every Lamplighter upon enlistment
1 proofed-leather vest, Imperial mottle
1 sash, twin pattern, checkered red and orange
1 fodicar, Scutid pattern (A fodicar is a type of pike, with an added crank-handle used to manipulate the inner-workings of a lamp)
1 tricorn, black felt with proofed-leather band
3 shirts, linen, white
3 pairs longshanks, proofed-leather, black
3 pairs undergarments, white
3 pairs stockings, white
1 truncheon, wooden
1 cup, tin
1 set cutlery, tin
2 blankets, woolen
1 pillow, hay stuffed
1 knife, steel
1 musket, Imperial standard issue
1 set cleaning equipment (for the musket)
1 ox-trunk
If a Lamplighter possesses the means to purchase additional items or superior equipment, they are free to do so, as long as they remain recognizable in uniform.
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On the Division of Lands and the Vinegar Seas
- Location
- U S of A
I'm signing off for the night. I'll be back to tally the vote at 8:30 AM EST.
I leave you with a bit of information on the world you will soon find yourselfs in.
Urban: The cities of mankind. Safe behind the massive walls, this is where the majority of humanity reside. Since the advent of gunpowder, no monster has breached the walls of a defended city, and it's been a fair while since any even attempted the feat.
Parishland: Lands within sight of and protected by a city or large fort. Generally farmland, the people living here often prefer it to the hustle and bustle (and smell) of the crowded cities, and it has become a fad among the nobility to build summer houses and retreats here. Monster sightings are almost unheard of. Smaller towns are also generally considered Parishland.
Fenceland: These lands are generally well-traveled and inhabited, though their inhabitants can be a bit paranoid about their security. Most houses have some form of fortification built into their design and every family owns a weapon. This division supplies much of the raw materials consumed by the cities. Monster sightings are rare, though it can get a bit dicey here if the frontier is being hard pressed.
Ditchland: The frontier of human habitation. Settled by brave (or foolhardy) pioneers looking to get first pick of the lands and resources available, every house here is a castle unto itself. Small walled villages are what passes for urban centers, and even there, every inhabitant goes about armed. Travel here is dangerous and difficult. Monster sightings are frequent.
Wilds: Here be monsters. No permanent human habitation exists, though some brave souls venture into the wilds on the hunt for dangerous beasts or hidden secrets. The Empire and most other states are content to write off anyone fleeing into these areas as dead and make no attempt to police or govern them.
I leave you with a bit of information on the world you will soon find yourselfs in.
Division of Lands
Most civilizations in the world divide up their domains on the basis of how secure they are believed to be from the predations of monsters. The Empire uses the following system to describe its domains.
Most civilizations in the world divide up their domains on the basis of how secure they are believed to be from the predations of monsters. The Empire uses the following system to describe its domains.
Urban: The cities of mankind. Safe behind the massive walls, this is where the majority of humanity reside. Since the advent of gunpowder, no monster has breached the walls of a defended city, and it's been a fair while since any even attempted the feat.
Parishland: Lands within sight of and protected by a city or large fort. Generally farmland, the people living here often prefer it to the hustle and bustle (and smell) of the crowded cities, and it has become a fad among the nobility to build summer houses and retreats here. Monster sightings are almost unheard of. Smaller towns are also generally considered Parishland.
Fenceland: These lands are generally well-traveled and inhabited, though their inhabitants can be a bit paranoid about their security. Most houses have some form of fortification built into their design and every family owns a weapon. This division supplies much of the raw materials consumed by the cities. Monster sightings are rare, though it can get a bit dicey here if the frontier is being hard pressed.
Ditchland: The frontier of human habitation. Settled by brave (or foolhardy) pioneers looking to get first pick of the lands and resources available, every house here is a castle unto itself. Small walled villages are what passes for urban centers, and even there, every inhabitant goes about armed. Travel here is dangerous and difficult. Monster sightings are frequent.
Wilds: Here be monsters. No permanent human habitation exists, though some brave souls venture into the wilds on the hunt for dangerous beasts or hidden secrets. The Empire and most other states are content to write off anyone fleeing into these areas as dead and make no attempt to police or govern them.
The Vinegar Seas
Sometimes referred to as "the vinegar" or "the deeps", the Vinegar seas are so named for the sharp smell of their waters, caused by the exotic salts that dissolve up from the sea floor. Although they all have the same distinctive smell, the various seas and oceans differ in the precise makeup of their salt-mixture, and each sea has a distinct color, ranging from bright yellows and oranges to murky blues and greens. The acerbic nature of the seas is inhospitable to humans, and exposure past 90 minutes is almost always fatal. The seas are home to great sea-monsters that menace shipping and coastal towns, as well as a variety of fish specially adapted for life in the hostile environment. Many of these fish are poisonous unless specially treated with detoxifying chemicals, and knowing which fish are safe to eat is an essential skill for any mariner.
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Post 2 - The Agent
- Location
- U S of A
A lamp! A lamp to light your path!
The familiar call signals the end of the night-watch and the start of a new day. Like clockwork, you rouse, clean, and dress yourself in a freshly laundered uniform, ready to start the day's labors. You've just finished up a routine inspection of some of the garrisons at the cothouses further up the road, and taken a rare chance to rest here at the cothouse of Wellnigh House before you set off on your next errand. Settling into the small but cozy office provided to you by the Major-of-House, you are in the middle of writing up your reports when you hear a small knock at the door. A quick 'Come in!' reveals the source - a young boy, looking barely 12 - surely one of the apprentices from the fortress. He meekly hands you a letter marked with the Lamplighter-Marshal's seal.
"Excuse me...
[]Sir
[]Ma'am
I was told to give this to you… is there anything else you wanted?"
Assuring him that there is nothing you require, you dismiss him and quickly open the message:
Attn. Agent [] Your Name
Your presence urgently requested at Winstermill Fortress, to meet with me at your earliest convenience. More details to be conveyed there.
Marshal Samuellin
It seems your rest will have to wait. Fortunately, you don't have to wait long for a carriage to Winstermill at this time of day, and you make good time to the fortress.
"Announcing the
[]Skold: Skolds are combat-chemists, equipped with a variety of potions to both heal and harm. Versatile and inventive, Skolds can fill almost any role on the battlefield, and are quite useful outside it as well. In the Lamplighters, Skolds are valued for their ability to be many things at once, reducing the strain on the limited manpower available. In addition to the standard array of potions, Skolds also have the opportunity to make specially prepared mixtures with powerful and unique effects.
[]Leer: Using a chemical mix to improve their sight and a bio-machine to improve their sense of smell, Leers are expert trackers. In addition, their greatly enhanced senses make them excellent shots, and many Leers have learned how to read minute changes in body language, making them akin to living lie detectors. The Lamplighters employ Leers in many roles, such as overseeing deals and contracts, hunting down monsters, and sniffing out contraband.
[]Surveyor: Having studied for years at the sciences of Mathematics and Architecture, surveyors are prized across the land for their expertise in the building of roads, bridges, walls, and forts used to colonize the wilderness. Having a Surveyor on staff is a huge boon to any organization that deals with the construction and maintenance of fortifications and infrastructure, the Lamplighters included. While not possessing any special abilities in combat, they are often veterans of a great many fights won while out surveying the land for one project or another, and should not be underestimated.
Agent…"
Before you barge into the room. Ignoring the shrill protests from behind you, you spot the top of the Marshal's head behind the piles of paperwork on his desk and give a quick cough.
"As well as it ever is, Sir. You'll have my report soon."
He looks a bit deflated at the mention of more paperwork - "Of course, the report. I would have finished that myself, but, well…" He gestures helplessly towards the paper filled desk. "In any case, it'll have to wait. I have a mission for you."
Here, we finish up character creation and prepare to head out onto the road. Please vote for one option only for each choice.
On Bright-Limns and Threwd
- Location
- U S of A
Another lore post, this time on the subjects of Bright-Limns and the Threwd.
In case it isn't clear, everything in these lore posts represents IC knowledge. They may not be entirely complete or accurate depending on the subject.
If at any point you have questions about something not answered in one of these posts, don't hesitate to ask.
In case it isn't clear, everything in these lore posts represents IC knowledge. They may not be entirely complete or accurate depending on the subject.
Bright-Limns
Familiar to any lamplighter, Bright-Limns, often simply called lanterns, are found up and down the roads of the Empire, illuminating the paths of all who travel there. A Bright-Limn consists of two parts: The first is a bioluminescent algae known as bloom, grown in great vats to be used in lanterns. The second is a chemical called Seltzer - a potent and caustic mix mimicking the deepest ocean depths. When placed in the Seltzer filled bulbs of the lanterns, the bloom lights up brilliantly, and without any risk of fire - an important consideration given that many houses are at least partially wooden. To douse the light, all one needs to do is remove the bloom from the seltzer. Seltzer goes bad eventually, turning a sickly green color, at which point it must be replaced or it will kill the bloom.The Threwd
Also known as The Horrors, threwd is a sensation of watchfulness or awareness emanating from the lands or waters around you. Although no one is certain, a popular theory is that the land itself is strangely sentient and aware, and that it resents the intrusions of humankind. Paltry threwd, the mildest kind, can make a person feel uneasy, as if under unfriendly observation. Pernicious threwd, the worst kind, can drive a person mad with unfounded terrors and dark paranoias. It is well known that wherever there is threwd, there are monsters too, and it is said in certain ancient books that the most powerful monsters possess their own threwd used to terrify and dominate weaker minds. It has been posited by certain eccentric natural philosophers that threwd can be not only strong or weak, but also good or bad. Such an idea is borderline treason and not to be taken seriously.If at any point you have questions about something not answered in one of these posts, don't hesitate to ask.
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Post 3 - Troubled Times
- Location
- U S of A
QM's Notes: I've updated the first page of the quest with a character sheet and a bunch of information about the Lamplighters and the Conduit Vermis, check it out if you have time.
__
The Marshal straightens up and begins his briefing:
"I have recently received a series of disturbing reports from the cothouse of Bleaklynche detailing the sightings of gudgeons and other necromantic beasts prowling along the edges of the Highroad. We've long suspected the existence of an illegal fighting-pit in the area, and I would guess that these creatures may be escapees from its cages. Investigate the area, kill any gudgeons you find, and if possible, shut that fighting pit down for good. The Major-of-House there will give you any assistance you require. Any questions?"
'No, Sir. I'll leave as soon as possible."
"Splendid! Take this with you." The Marshal hands you a sealed envelope. "Open it on the road. The more sensitive details of this task are enclosed. Good luck and a light to your path."
"And yours Sir."
Walking out of the office, you consider the envelope now safely inside your coat pocket. The mission the Marshal described to you seemed fairly straightforward, so the need to convey 'sensitive details' is a bit out of place. That, combined with his insistence that you open the letter on the road, makes you suspect that there is more to this assignment than the Marshal is willing to let on, even in the privacy of his offices.
It takes you the rest of the day to gather your things, check your weapons, and acquire the provisions necessary for the multi-day journey to Bleaklynche. There are no coaches running at night, so you'll need to ride solo to Wellnigh house and catch a coach there in the morning. Though this stretch of the road is reckoned to be quite safe, you know full well how dangerous it is to travel alone, and so make doubly sure that all your weapons are in order before heading out.
As you ride your thoughts return to the letter in your pocket. You have it in your hands and are preparing to breach the seal when you are suddenly interrupted by the sound of gunfire from further up the road. Quickly spurring your horse onwards, you see a desperate scene. A carriage dashed by the side of the road, its team dead and being feasted upon by shadowy figures, as its dazed occupants try to muster a defence. Closer to you, a squad of lamplighters has formed a firing line to confront the beasts, manned in part by figures too small to be counted as men. They must be apprentices from Winstermill with their teachers, out on the road to learn the duties of a lighter. The Highroad is attacked!
How will you respond?
[]Rush to assist the occupants of the carriage: They're probably the most in need of help and your fellow lighters can handle themselves. Probably.
[]Take up a position in the firing line: Before you can think about assisting the downed carriage, you need to have a firm base of fire to support you. In addition, the young prentices will need a firm hand to keep them from breaking if the beasts turn upon them.
[]Slide behind a tree and attempt to pick off some of the beasts: This will allow you to pick off any monster that gets too close to either party… If your aim is true. You'll also be alone - a dangerous situation in a fight like this.
[]Other: Write in
Vote for one option only please.
__
The Marshal straightens up and begins his briefing:
"I have recently received a series of disturbing reports from the cothouse of Bleaklynche detailing the sightings of gudgeons and other necromantic beasts prowling along the edges of the Highroad. We've long suspected the existence of an illegal fighting-pit in the area, and I would guess that these creatures may be escapees from its cages. Investigate the area, kill any gudgeons you find, and if possible, shut that fighting pit down for good. The Major-of-House there will give you any assistance you require. Any questions?"
'No, Sir. I'll leave as soon as possible."
"Splendid! Take this with you." The Marshal hands you a sealed envelope. "Open it on the road. The more sensitive details of this task are enclosed. Good luck and a light to your path."
"And yours Sir."
Walking out of the office, you consider the envelope now safely inside your coat pocket. The mission the Marshal described to you seemed fairly straightforward, so the need to convey 'sensitive details' is a bit out of place. That, combined with his insistence that you open the letter on the road, makes you suspect that there is more to this assignment than the Marshal is willing to let on, even in the privacy of his offices.
It takes you the rest of the day to gather your things, check your weapons, and acquire the provisions necessary for the multi-day journey to Bleaklynche. There are no coaches running at night, so you'll need to ride solo to Wellnigh house and catch a coach there in the morning. Though this stretch of the road is reckoned to be quite safe, you know full well how dangerous it is to travel alone, and so make doubly sure that all your weapons are in order before heading out.
As you ride your thoughts return to the letter in your pocket. You have it in your hands and are preparing to breach the seal when you are suddenly interrupted by the sound of gunfire from further up the road. Quickly spurring your horse onwards, you see a desperate scene. A carriage dashed by the side of the road, its team dead and being feasted upon by shadowy figures, as its dazed occupants try to muster a defence. Closer to you, a squad of lamplighters has formed a firing line to confront the beasts, manned in part by figures too small to be counted as men. They must be apprentices from Winstermill with their teachers, out on the road to learn the duties of a lighter. The Highroad is attacked!
How will you respond?
[]Rush to assist the occupants of the carriage: They're probably the most in need of help and your fellow lighters can handle themselves. Probably.
[]Take up a position in the firing line: Before you can think about assisting the downed carriage, you need to have a firm base of fire to support you. In addition, the young prentices will need a firm hand to keep them from breaking if the beasts turn upon them.
[]Slide behind a tree and attempt to pick off some of the beasts: This will allow you to pick off any monster that gets too close to either party… If your aim is true. You'll also be alone - a dangerous situation in a fight like this.
[]Other: Write in
Vote for one option only please.
On the Necromantic Trades
- Location
- U S of A
Necromancy
Also known as the dark trades, necromancy is an underground but highly profitable enterprise in the Empire. The suppliers of this grisly business are known as corsers - grave robbers and tomb raiders, the worst among them may even stoop to abduction and murder to get the required parts 'fresh'. They in turn smuggle their goods to the ashmongers, dealers in corpses, body parts, and monsters both live and dead. Ashmongers have become at least partially legitimized due to the usefulness of their ingredients in certain potions, but the true nature of their trade is widely known and they remain under great suspicion. Necromancers use these parts in three main ways: as the basis for a bizarre biological soup from which monsters are grown from scratch, by stitching them together into corpse-like horrors, or by using them to give life to a specially prepared framework (usually called a jackstraw for their scarecrow-like appearance). These fabricated beasts have many purposes, including: hunting (Natural-made Monsters have a noted grudge against the fabricated kind, making them excellent as both bait and the main implement of killing), guard duty (often used by brigands and other unsavory types to protect their campsites and riches), Intellectual study (Some attempt to divine the secrets of life through the study of the unliving), and as 'gladiators' in the fighting-pits (illegal fighting rings where fights are staged between these creations and captured monsters, with a lively betting scene as to the winners).
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Post 4 - Battle on the Highroad
- Location
- U S of A
QM's notes: I don't think I'm going to be able to keep up my pace of one update a day during the week - next update will probably come Wednesday.
__
Shouldering your musket, you move quickly to assist your fellow lighters. As you approach, you hear a voice you recognize as Lamplighter-Sergeant Grindrod's exclaim "First rank, FIRE!". Further down the road, a beast with great curling horns collapses under the force of multiple impacts. Sidling into the second rank, the Sergeant gives you a sideways glance - "Come to join with us lowly lighters, have you, Sir?"
"I have. Looks like we've got their attention."
Some of it, at least. Three forms break off in your direction, their orange eyes glowing in the darkness. Behind them, Another four or five - you're not sure - make for the carriage, only to have one of their number thrown back by a fiery explosion. As the charred ruin hits the ground, 2 figures emerge from the carriage - and begin to dance, deadly razorwire flashing in every direction. You have no time to look further, as Grindrod commands "Second rank, ready!" and you level your musket at the approaching monsters.
"Aim - FIRE!"
Your musket cracks along with a half dozen others and a second monster lies sprawling in the dust.
(Your musket is now unloaded)
To your horror though, the other two rush on unimpeded, and it's clear you'll have no time to reload. Drawing your pistol as quickly as you can, they're almost upon you when a burst of powder catches them both, thrown by a small boy standing off to the side, quickly recognized as the one who delivered you the Marshal's letter. Clearly disoriented by the powder (probably a repellant of some sort) the monsters stagger - not for long, but long enough for the Lighters to take up their fodicars and present a bristling hedge of steel. Lacking a fodicar of your own, you take the opportunity to steady your aim and your pistol's shot finds its mark - directly in the center of a monster's head, dropping it instantly.
(Your pistol is now unloaded)
Now facing the pointy ends of a dozen pikes, the final monster hastens back toward its fellows attacking the carriage. Suddenly a distinctly feminine scream draws your attention. One of the dancers defending the carriage has made a misstep, and a slash of talons sends her spinning to the ground. Her partner hastens to her defence, but it seems she too will be overtaken when a woman wielding a brilliant red torch illuminates the battlefield, stinging your eyes and forcing the monsters away. "Bitterbright!" A lampsman exclaims - "That's some powerful Skoldin'... they must be calendars!". Societies of philanthropically minded huntresses, only a calender clave could bring such a variety of powerful teratologists together. "Can't be." Another mutters, "Calendars would know better than be out running coaches this late."
(Your musket is now loaded)
Having taken the reprieve to reload, you are faced with the decision of how to deal with the remaining monsters.
How do you proceed?
[]Hold your ground and continue firing: You hold a strong position, and while the prentices may not have the best aim, a dozen muskets are bound to hit something. Pick your targets and pepper them with shot from afar.
[]Move to support the calendars: Take a few of the more experienced lighters and advance on the carriage, with your fellows giving you cover from behind. The Calendars may be holding off the monsters for now, but that bitterbright won't last forever.
[]Give the order to charge: The monsters are off-balance and outnumbered. If you charge them, you can trap them between your force and the calendars and smash them decisively! Pikes forward men!
[]Other: Write in
Vote for one option only please.
__
Shouldering your musket, you move quickly to assist your fellow lighters. As you approach, you hear a voice you recognize as Lamplighter-Sergeant Grindrod's exclaim "First rank, FIRE!". Further down the road, a beast with great curling horns collapses under the force of multiple impacts. Sidling into the second rank, the Sergeant gives you a sideways glance - "Come to join with us lowly lighters, have you, Sir?"
"I have. Looks like we've got their attention."
Some of it, at least. Three forms break off in your direction, their orange eyes glowing in the darkness. Behind them, Another four or five - you're not sure - make for the carriage, only to have one of their number thrown back by a fiery explosion. As the charred ruin hits the ground, 2 figures emerge from the carriage - and begin to dance, deadly razorwire flashing in every direction. You have no time to look further, as Grindrod commands "Second rank, ready!" and you level your musket at the approaching monsters.
"Aim - FIRE!"
Your musket cracks along with a half dozen others and a second monster lies sprawling in the dust.
(Your musket is now unloaded)
To your horror though, the other two rush on unimpeded, and it's clear you'll have no time to reload. Drawing your pistol as quickly as you can, they're almost upon you when a burst of powder catches them both, thrown by a small boy standing off to the side, quickly recognized as the one who delivered you the Marshal's letter. Clearly disoriented by the powder (probably a repellant of some sort) the monsters stagger - not for long, but long enough for the Lighters to take up their fodicars and present a bristling hedge of steel. Lacking a fodicar of your own, you take the opportunity to steady your aim and your pistol's shot finds its mark - directly in the center of a monster's head, dropping it instantly.
(Your pistol is now unloaded)
Now facing the pointy ends of a dozen pikes, the final monster hastens back toward its fellows attacking the carriage. Suddenly a distinctly feminine scream draws your attention. One of the dancers defending the carriage has made a misstep, and a slash of talons sends her spinning to the ground. Her partner hastens to her defence, but it seems she too will be overtaken when a woman wielding a brilliant red torch illuminates the battlefield, stinging your eyes and forcing the monsters away. "Bitterbright!" A lampsman exclaims - "That's some powerful Skoldin'... they must be calendars!". Societies of philanthropically minded huntresses, only a calender clave could bring such a variety of powerful teratologists together. "Can't be." Another mutters, "Calendars would know better than be out running coaches this late."
(Your musket is now loaded)
Having taken the reprieve to reload, you are faced with the decision of how to deal with the remaining monsters.
How do you proceed?
[]Hold your ground and continue firing: You hold a strong position, and while the prentices may not have the best aim, a dozen muskets are bound to hit something. Pick your targets and pepper them with shot from afar.
[]Move to support the calendars: Take a few of the more experienced lighters and advance on the carriage, with your fellows giving you cover from behind. The Calendars may be holding off the monsters for now, but that bitterbright won't last forever.
[]Give the order to charge: The monsters are off-balance and outnumbered. If you charge them, you can trap them between your force and the calendars and smash them decisively! Pikes forward men!
[]Other: Write in
Vote for one option only please.
On Calendars and Cruorpunxis
- Location
- U S of A
Calendars
Societies of warrior women, Calenders organize themselves into groupings known as claves. United by ideals of social justice and philanthropy, Calendars take particular notice of those poor folk who could not normally afford a hunter's labours, often taking on jobs for a greatly reduced fee, or waiving the charge altogether. Claves are headed by their August - usually a noblewoman possessed of some standing and social conscience. With a well-organized and talented clave behind her, an August can be a daunting and influential presence in Imperial politics. Calendars usually establish themselves in secluded fortresses a good distance away from other settlements, secure from monsters and men. Some claves are known to hide people - usually but not always women - in trouble, while others offer training to young girls in the social graces and combat skills.
Cruorpunxis
A Cruorpunxis is the proper name for a monster blood tattoo, a marking given to a monster's killer using the siphoned blood of that same monster. Once pricked into the skin, the monster blood - called cruor - reacts strangely with human biology, causing a throbbing scab to form that eventually sloughs off to reveal permanent reddish-brown marks beneath. These tattoos are usually done in the form of a highly stylized face of the monster the recipient had slain. Those who make a profession of creating these tattoos call themselves punctographists, and the best among them (those who make the best images with the least pain) earn a comfortable living. Monster blood will last for about a day before it becomes congealed and useless for puncting, or 3 days if stored in a cool, dry space - this gives the victorious hunter a little time to try and find a punctographist after their victory.
Post 5 - A Meeting
- Location
- U S of A
QM's Notes: Well, that took longer than expected, sorry y'all. Next update will come Friday. I'd be interested to hear what people think of the quest so far - what they like and don't like. I'm still pretty new at this, so I'm sure there's room for improvement.
___
It's a challenge to try and see what's happening by the carriage through the harsh red glare, but you don't need see it to know that the Calendars will be in trouble if that bitterbright runs out before you drive the monsters off. With the three most capable looking Lighters in tow, you maneuver in the oblique towards the carriage, trying to get closer without blocking the line of fire for Grindrod and the prentices.
You're close enough to make out some clipped conversation among the Calendars when the firing line behind you lets off a volley - a monster staggers but doesn't fall. However, the hit causes the unlucky bogle to stumble into the wires of the remaining dancer, and it is quickly cut to ribbons. The remaining monsters have actually turned away to flee when you catch sight of some movement by the ruins of the carriage. A smallish figure, apparently just now having managed to extricate herself from the wreck, rushes towards the battle. The Calendar Skold only has time to shout something that sounds like "Threnody, NO!" before the girl puts her hand to her temple and the world seems to turn upside down. Behind you, a lampsman vomits.
You try to regain your bearings, but it seems like it might be too late. Apparently less affected by the witting, the monsters have turned back around and are bearing down upon you rapidly - you manage to level your musket but you can't quite aim straight. Then, to your amazement, they stop. One topples to the ground midstride, and two more are held frozen. The final monster is rolling on the ground, clutching its head. Looking back to the Calendars, you see that the Skold, though clearly struggling, now has her own hand pressed to her temple, the characteristic gesture of a Wit. "She's a Bane!" one of your companions whispers in an awed tone. Skold and Wit both, Banes are both exceptionally rare and exceptionally dangerous.
Still frozen, the two monsters can do nothing as you and your men open fire at point-blank range, and they collapse like puppets with their strings cut. Still on the ground, the last remaining monster writhes in wordless agony, its motions getting slower and slower until they finally stop completely. The grisly work done, the Calendar Bane sinks to the ground, exhausted.
A hearty cheer goes up from the Lighters, and you quickly proceed towards them.
"Well fought, my Ladies. I am Agent Alexis Rozencrantz of the Imperial Lamplighters - is there any assistance we can offer?"
"Indeed, Sir." the Bane responds, "I am Lady Dolours, Bane and assistant to the esteemed August of the Right of the Pacific Dove. Have you any thrombis? My sister is gravely injured but she may yet live if treated quickly."
"I have what she requires, Sir," a prentice pipes up, the same as threw the repellent that kept the bogles at bay. He must be carrying the squad's salt-bag. You give him a quick nod, and he kneels beside the fallen dancer, assisting her partner in tending to her wounds.
Sergeant Grindrod appears behind you, his arms folded. "That was skillfully done Bane, but I must ask you, what in the BLOODY HELL were you doing travelling with a six-horse team at this hour of night? You should know that it riles the bogles up something fierce." Now in full drill-sergeant mode, he rounds on the girl Wit - Threnody, if you recall - "And YOU Miss - What were you THINKING? That lackbrained witting almost brought good men to ruin. Were I so inclined, I could have you clapped in irons for impeding the duties of the Emperor's servants!"
The girl seems stunned at first, but she quickly snaps out of it. "Wh- Lackbrained? CLAPPED IN IRONS!? You lowborn toad, I ought to have YOU clapped in irons for speaking to a peer that way! If it-"
"ENOUGH, Threnody." The Bane interrupts. "Allow me to explain. I am well aware of the night's dangers, same as any of my profession. Had we not been denied entry by your brothers at Wellnigh, we would not have needed to venture forth so foolishly. No room for a six-horse team, they said."
"That can't be right," Grindrod exclaims, "All cothouses can stable six horses with room to spare - wouldn't be much use otherwise. What else did they say?"
"Nothing. Your charming Major-of-House simply rejected us and sent us on our way. We would have needed to storm the place to gain entry."
"That's highly disturbing," You say slowly - "If what you say is true, the Marshal will hear about it, you have my word."
"It wouldn't surprise me if it were," Grindrod grumbles, "He's one of the lot the Master-of-Clerks had shifted up from the Considine. Don't know a thing about lighting, the lot of 'em. Refusing folks in need isn't the way we conduct ourselves here on the Emperor's Highroad."
"Perhaps," Dolours murmurs, "It would seem the Emperor's Lamplighters are not what they once were."
On that cheerful note, you leave the Calendars in the care of Grindrod and his prentices, and proceed down the road. You need to have words with Wellnigh's Major-of-House. You spy sthe twin keeps of Wellnigh House soon enough, and you head directly to the Major's office.
"Ah, Mr Rosencrantz, what brings you back so soon?"
"You." Is your simple reply.
"Really?" He looks startled. "I'm not sure how I could be of any interest."
"Is that so? Tell me Major, did a party of Calendars come to you earlier in the day, asking for entry?"
"Oh, that. Have they been complaining? I'm not sure what they were so worried about. They had a Bane with them. Any distress they pleaded was exaggerated, I assure you."
"Actually, they were attacked. One of them is badly injured, and I didn't see the coachman. I presume he's dead."
"O-Oh. Well, its just- I mean, you know how they are, meddlesome women, always getting in the way with their holier-than-"
"That's no excuse for-"
"I HAD MY REASONS!" He suddenly thunders, "I am the Major-of-House here and it is not your place, AGENT, to question my decisions!"
The glare you fix him with is ice cold. "We'll see if the Lamplighter-Marshal shares your opinion." Storming out of the room, you return to your office, still fuming. By the time you sit down at your desk though, your thoughts have cleared a bit. Major-of-House Danson is one of the Master-of-Clerk's men, which makes getting rid of him an issue. The Clerk-Master himself is a singularly unlikeable man who spends most of his time getting in the way of other people, but the Marshal's every attempt to have him removed has met with a curiously strong (and unexplained) resistance. Clearly, someone powerful wants the Master-of-Clerks to stay right where he is. Worse, he's filled a great many open billets along the road with people of questionable qualifications, and kicks up a storm should anyone challenge it. Thinking of how to relay this incident to the Marshal, you consider your options:
How do you handle the Major's situation?
[]Pen a relatively mild report recommending that Danson be given a formal reprimand: Danson had seemed like a fairly decent person up until now, hopefully a public dressing-down will be all that is necessary to set him right. Besides, you don't have time to deal with whatever game the Master-of-Clerks and his patrons are playing right now. He should thank you for being so lenient, really.
[]Pen a highly critical report recommending that Danson be relieved of his command and reassigned to somewhere he can't do any more harm: Whatever kind of man he may be, it's clear Danson doesn't have the capability to make a good Major-of-House. Your dear Clerk-Master will likely complain about this to his supporters but you doubt it will get him far - your assessment could hardly be called unfair.
[]Pen a scathing report recommending that Danson be court-martialed and drummed out of the service: A man like Danson isn't fit to shine the Emperor's shoes, let alone serve in the Imperial Lamplighters! It's high time that there was a reckoning for the undeserving bringing shame upon the Empire's good name. This will surely make the Master-of-Clerks and his shadowy backers angry, but franky, you don't give a damn.
[]Other: Write in
Vote for one option only please.
___
It's a challenge to try and see what's happening by the carriage through the harsh red glare, but you don't need see it to know that the Calendars will be in trouble if that bitterbright runs out before you drive the monsters off. With the three most capable looking Lighters in tow, you maneuver in the oblique towards the carriage, trying to get closer without blocking the line of fire for Grindrod and the prentices.
You're close enough to make out some clipped conversation among the Calendars when the firing line behind you lets off a volley - a monster staggers but doesn't fall. However, the hit causes the unlucky bogle to stumble into the wires of the remaining dancer, and it is quickly cut to ribbons. The remaining monsters have actually turned away to flee when you catch sight of some movement by the ruins of the carriage. A smallish figure, apparently just now having managed to extricate herself from the wreck, rushes towards the battle. The Calendar Skold only has time to shout something that sounds like "Threnody, NO!" before the girl puts her hand to her temple and the world seems to turn upside down. Behind you, a lampsman vomits.
You try to regain your bearings, but it seems like it might be too late. Apparently less affected by the witting, the monsters have turned back around and are bearing down upon you rapidly - you manage to level your musket but you can't quite aim straight. Then, to your amazement, they stop. One topples to the ground midstride, and two more are held frozen. The final monster is rolling on the ground, clutching its head. Looking back to the Calendars, you see that the Skold, though clearly struggling, now has her own hand pressed to her temple, the characteristic gesture of a Wit. "She's a Bane!" one of your companions whispers in an awed tone. Skold and Wit both, Banes are both exceptionally rare and exceptionally dangerous.
Still frozen, the two monsters can do nothing as you and your men open fire at point-blank range, and they collapse like puppets with their strings cut. Still on the ground, the last remaining monster writhes in wordless agony, its motions getting slower and slower until they finally stop completely. The grisly work done, the Calendar Bane sinks to the ground, exhausted.
A hearty cheer goes up from the Lighters, and you quickly proceed towards them.
"Well fought, my Ladies. I am Agent Alexis Rozencrantz of the Imperial Lamplighters - is there any assistance we can offer?"
"Indeed, Sir." the Bane responds, "I am Lady Dolours, Bane and assistant to the esteemed August of the Right of the Pacific Dove. Have you any thrombis? My sister is gravely injured but she may yet live if treated quickly."
"I have what she requires, Sir," a prentice pipes up, the same as threw the repellent that kept the bogles at bay. He must be carrying the squad's salt-bag. You give him a quick nod, and he kneels beside the fallen dancer, assisting her partner in tending to her wounds.
Sergeant Grindrod appears behind you, his arms folded. "That was skillfully done Bane, but I must ask you, what in the BLOODY HELL were you doing travelling with a six-horse team at this hour of night? You should know that it riles the bogles up something fierce." Now in full drill-sergeant mode, he rounds on the girl Wit - Threnody, if you recall - "And YOU Miss - What were you THINKING? That lackbrained witting almost brought good men to ruin. Were I so inclined, I could have you clapped in irons for impeding the duties of the Emperor's servants!"
The girl seems stunned at first, but she quickly snaps out of it. "Wh- Lackbrained? CLAPPED IN IRONS!? You lowborn toad, I ought to have YOU clapped in irons for speaking to a peer that way! If it-"
"ENOUGH, Threnody." The Bane interrupts. "Allow me to explain. I am well aware of the night's dangers, same as any of my profession. Had we not been denied entry by your brothers at Wellnigh, we would not have needed to venture forth so foolishly. No room for a six-horse team, they said."
"That can't be right," Grindrod exclaims, "All cothouses can stable six horses with room to spare - wouldn't be much use otherwise. What else did they say?"
"Nothing. Your charming Major-of-House simply rejected us and sent us on our way. We would have needed to storm the place to gain entry."
"That's highly disturbing," You say slowly - "If what you say is true, the Marshal will hear about it, you have my word."
"It wouldn't surprise me if it were," Grindrod grumbles, "He's one of the lot the Master-of-Clerks had shifted up from the Considine. Don't know a thing about lighting, the lot of 'em. Refusing folks in need isn't the way we conduct ourselves here on the Emperor's Highroad."
"Perhaps," Dolours murmurs, "It would seem the Emperor's Lamplighters are not what they once were."
On that cheerful note, you leave the Calendars in the care of Grindrod and his prentices, and proceed down the road. You need to have words with Wellnigh's Major-of-House. You spy sthe twin keeps of Wellnigh House soon enough, and you head directly to the Major's office.
"Ah, Mr Rosencrantz, what brings you back so soon?"
"You." Is your simple reply.
"Really?" He looks startled. "I'm not sure how I could be of any interest."
"Is that so? Tell me Major, did a party of Calendars come to you earlier in the day, asking for entry?"
"Oh, that. Have they been complaining? I'm not sure what they were so worried about. They had a Bane with them. Any distress they pleaded was exaggerated, I assure you."
"Actually, they were attacked. One of them is badly injured, and I didn't see the coachman. I presume he's dead."
"O-Oh. Well, its just- I mean, you know how they are, meddlesome women, always getting in the way with their holier-than-"
"That's no excuse for-"
"I HAD MY REASONS!" He suddenly thunders, "I am the Major-of-House here and it is not your place, AGENT, to question my decisions!"
The glare you fix him with is ice cold. "We'll see if the Lamplighter-Marshal shares your opinion." Storming out of the room, you return to your office, still fuming. By the time you sit down at your desk though, your thoughts have cleared a bit. Major-of-House Danson is one of the Master-of-Clerk's men, which makes getting rid of him an issue. The Clerk-Master himself is a singularly unlikeable man who spends most of his time getting in the way of other people, but the Marshal's every attempt to have him removed has met with a curiously strong (and unexplained) resistance. Clearly, someone powerful wants the Master-of-Clerks to stay right where he is. Worse, he's filled a great many open billets along the road with people of questionable qualifications, and kicks up a storm should anyone challenge it. Thinking of how to relay this incident to the Marshal, you consider your options:
How do you handle the Major's situation?
[]Pen a relatively mild report recommending that Danson be given a formal reprimand: Danson had seemed like a fairly decent person up until now, hopefully a public dressing-down will be all that is necessary to set him right. Besides, you don't have time to deal with whatever game the Master-of-Clerks and his patrons are playing right now. He should thank you for being so lenient, really.
[]Pen a highly critical report recommending that Danson be relieved of his command and reassigned to somewhere he can't do any more harm: Whatever kind of man he may be, it's clear Danson doesn't have the capability to make a good Major-of-House. Your dear Clerk-Master will likely complain about this to his supporters but you doubt it will get him far - your assessment could hardly be called unfair.
[]Pen a scathing report recommending that Danson be court-martialed and drummed out of the service: A man like Danson isn't fit to shine the Emperor's shoes, let alone serve in the Imperial Lamplighters! It's high time that there was a reckoning for the undeserving bringing shame upon the Empire's good name. This will surely make the Master-of-Clerks and his shadowy backers angry, but franky, you don't give a damn.
[]Other: Write in
Vote for one option only please.
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