Warhammer Fantasy: Thirteen Tolls - An Apocalypse Quest

Turn Seven - Temperance


You are awake.

A wan ray of light falls in your cell. It's late. It was late when you fell asleep. How long has it been? You try to get up, and feel your muscles scream, rusty with disuse. Your rise turns into a fall; you slip out of your bed on to the cool solid ground.

After an eternity of dream-stuff hard reality has never been such a pleasure.

You pull yourself up, after a while. You wonder where everyone is. You stumble, shaking with effort, through the Roost, the lower levels. Past the rooms of your freedmen recruits, and their little reflecting pool for their drowned god. Past the chamber of the Melodii who have bedecked their walls in spirit tags, a thousand papers fluttering in a non-existent wind. Past Iefyr's where the black onyx eyes of the marble bust Ereth Khial follow you across the room. Past Marvin's little storage closet for his endless jars of honey, and the shelf where Rosamunde is keeping souvenirs from her wanders. Past where Ambrose slept, dusty and untouched; past the smallest room, that Pelops chose with a little model chariot.

Your feel for a second, your unease rise, as you wander like a ghost through empty halls.

But you have faith.

And as you finally ascend the sloping rise, towards the portal, you hear chanting.

In the garden, among the black roses, your clergy is in prayer. Joining hands in a grand circle, the recite 3:1 of the Book of Doors.

You listen.

"The Raven flew against the wind


To deliver his message true
.


Past waste and ruin to where the tree grew,


Where waited Lord Morr the Kind.


He'd seen his fate, he was not blind




To the Thirteen Tolls of the Bell
.


But if the price of faith was hell,


He'd pay it twice; for all things fall.


The Good Harvestman calls to all.


All the earth for a fond farewell."


Tears prick at your eyes, as they end. Pelops is the first to spot you, eyes wide, and gives a shout of delight.

He runs, and embraces you, only to start immediately apologizing as his weight on your makes your knees buckle, and you nearly fall.

"You're well, My Raven, My Raven – oh; sorry, sorry, forgive me – I just am so glad; oh!"

And he's crying, and you've being embraced by your fellows, and you are awash in a tide of cheer.

You know your past. You know your present. You know your future.

At the Roost, where the dead are put the rest, you Xenophon, who are doomed to die feel, for first time since you came home you are at – finally – at peace.

The Headlines

Article:
DIVINE SALVATION – Let us raise our hands in thanks for the intervention of Xenophon, Chosen of Morr, and Ambrose, elect of Tyleus Liberator for defeating those forces of the Tempter that dared sully our most holy and sacred home…
Source: Broken Chains – News for Free Men

Article:
NOTICE OF SUIT – the Representatives of the Estate of Morganis Barbarian contact the individual known as "Xenophon" of the Roost informing him that action will be taken against him for damages caused by negligence, assault, and sundry other torts due to his actions at the Casino at the House of Tyleus…
Source: Orderis and Morganis Co. (Legal)

Article:
VICTORY IN BROTHERHOOD– The damnable Elgi have been visited the first of what is sure to be many defeats by the local regiment "the Sons of Stone", ambushing a reaver raid against a fuel station of Barak Varr…
Source: the Pall Gazette

Article:
NINE DEMANDS – Having been faced by laconism from the tremulous authorities of the polity known as "Tylos-Kavzar", the Phoenix Throne hereby makes public its intent to impose BLOCKADE on the aforementioned peoples/entity until the following acts are performed forthwith: 1. Immediate retreat of all forces, individuals, etc. in a hundred leagues of Athel Maraya…
Source: Notice from the Embasy of Ulthuan

Article:
THIRD LUMINOUS TRIAL – All things burn, and as they do, glow. Through the flame, there is light. And light is truth. Come see truth burnt into reality. Witness the Third Test between Luminaries Angelus and Floridus…
Source: Fiat Lux

Article:
FOOD PRICES SKYROCKET - For the third straight month, food prices continue to rise, this week alone the price of bread increasing an eye-popping 13%. Analysts blame speculation…
Source: Kavzar Financial Guide

Article:
MISSING – Parlenius Patrocline of the Lodge of the Harvest Moon, last seen…
Source: the Moons

Article:
MISSING - Master Cyrilius of the Cleansing Flame, last seen…
Source: Fiat Lux

Article:
MARTYRS SCREAM – All good and righteous men! Let not black despair cool your righteous, boiling rage! The workingmen of this city will have justice and will have it soon. You know the signal. Vengeance Will Be Had…
Source: Odo's Daily Acts

Article:
AGAINST "UNIONS" – That certain criminal individuals are allowed to form consortiums to illegally restrict trade and harass foreign citizens would not be tolerated in any just city. I thus suggest the immediate dismantlement of these thuggish leagues, by force if…
Source: Via Appia Journal

Article:
A BOLT FROM THE BLUE - The Lightning is on a seventeen-match winning streak in the coliseum, the people's champion; slaying aristocratic pamperer, elvish fanny, and terrible beast alike…
Source: Populares, the People's Paper

Article:
CHECKING IN – Hope you're well. Any progress on spear? Busy with fucking Elves. Hope to hear soon. Must introduce you to a new old friend.
Source: Note from the Princeps


TURN 7- the Kalends of Tylesia

A turn is one week, or eight days. You can pick up to five [5] actions. Ordinary Acts are a guaranteed success, risky ones are fifty-fifty for a positive or negative result, and Ventures open interludes. Actions tagged with an (S) mean League of Salvation requests and are taken with a discount; two only take up one action slot, though taking one will still cost the whole slot. Actions with write-ins can be taken several times, albeit with different write-ins.

FOLLOWERS

Followers are characters willing to assist you on your quest. They offer you particular advantages on each turn, from performing certain acts for you, to making others less risky. A stalker does the reverse. Assign a follower by putting their initial in brackets after the action in question. For example:

[x] Explore a district (Thunderdome) [A]

You have four followers, Pelops [P], Rosamunde [R], and Mervin [M], and Zaki [Z]

Pelops' Bonus: You can assign Pelops to one Risky act or Venture each turn. So chosen, he will allow you to reroll once if you fail on your initial attempt at that Act (or on up to three rolls in a Venture) as he and Last Rest protect you from harm. However, do be aware that he may be affected by the negative effects of a failed roll.

Rosamunde's Bonus: Rosamunde can be assigned to one extra action a turn, but that action is required to be [-] Explore a District. She may also attempt to steal a known object as free RISKY act; if chosen, please put the item as a subvote under the [-] Explore action.

Mervin's Bonus: All investigation actions involving the nobility are automatic successes (characters with the title "Lord" or "Lady". Please put an [M] on such acts.

Zaki''s "Bonus": He'll make sure you keep your oaths.

MILITA AND RIOT ACTS

"Riot Acts", are a new category of action allowing Xenophon to affect the Cities through directing a copious amount of street violence. All "Riot Acts" are risky; however, they do not take up Xenophon's action count. Instead, they are selected from a special category listed below. You have as many Riot Acts as you have militia followers, of which you currently have 2, the Ludens (L) and Emir Aklan's Carpet Corps (E). You must assign each to a single action.

THE LUDENS' BONUS: Owing to their celebrity, especially among the lower classes and freedmen, any Riot Acts undertaken by the Ludens will have significantly reduced (if any) consequences for public opinion.

THE CARPET CORPS' BONUS: The greater mobility of flying carpets means that when a failed flip would otherwise mean the militia would be injured, they instead escape to safety, though the action regardless fails.

ORDINARY ACTS

[-] Explore a district (write-in: Thunderdome, the Pall, Elftown, Little Khemri, the Brass Quarter, Circus, Temple, Cloisters, Casbah, the Shambles).

It's been a while. Better to get the lay of the land.

[-] Visit another temple (Write-in: Ranald, Verena, Shallya, Manann, Ishernos, Medhe, Cailledh, Margileo, Skavor, Elven Gods)

Morr is not a jealous god. Will his divine family be any help?

[-] Research dreams and portents.

These cities are lousy with libraries. See if you can identify any of the symbology.

[-] Hire more security.

No army has every complained for a surplus of manpower.

[-] Interrogate Her-Ben

If you've got to deal with an insane Liche-Priest in your basement, you better get something out of it.

[-] Send people out. (Write-in: who? (can be specific names or a class (ex. "orphans"))

Offer a permanent vacation.

[-] Amass supplies.

You don't know which way the wind is blowing. But a good number of rations in the Roost would make you feel a lot better.

[-] Write to the Princeps.

He's expecting … something from you, Gods knows what, or what he knows. And who's this friend?

[-] Hire lawyers.

Apparently, the mess at the Casino left some people angry. Hire some people to talk to their people to see what they really want.

[-] Enroll as a political partisan (write-in: Reds or Whites)

You hate this. But you might need connections, and how better than door-to-door?

[-] Research foreign affairs.

The war in the north is getting hot.

[-] Look for a holy artefact.

If this is bad as the dreams seem to be, you'd feel better with some trinket. You can afford to be superstitious, you're a priest of the God of Portents.

[-] Study the Spear

There's got to be records, right?

[-] Research foreign affairs.

The war in the north is getting hot.

[-] Write to Arkhan.

A long shot. Probably not the same man. But you can return the papers, and ask for another secret in thanks?

[-] Establish a dwarven tomb.

The Gazulites have no home in the Cities. Make one at the Roost.

[-] Go to the gladiatorial games and bet on them.

All your chips on the son of the endless sky.

[-] Sell warpstone. (incompatible with ACTS: [-] Build a warpstone bomb, Sell warpstone)

Lose the evil rocks, gain a small fortune. Win-win?

[-] Secure a weapon.

Your sword is slag and shadow in your room. You need another blade.

[-] Pray.

O last friend, our lover true / might we know our way to you?

RISKY ACTS

[-] Find another priest (Write-in: Ranald, Verena, Myrmidia, Ahalt, Shallya, Tyleus, Manann, Ishernos, Medhe, Cailledh, Margileo, Skavor, Nekeharan Gods, write-in.) (can be taken multiple times).

The Princeps needs Thirteen. Secure one.

[-] Study the Curse of the Sons.

An ancient crime born by blood. Can you grant forgiveness?

[-] Study warpstone. (incompatible with ACTS: [-] Build a warpstone Bomb, Sell warpstone)

For something inherently evil, there's a lot of books about it.

[-] Build a warpstone bomb. (incompatible with ACTS: [-] Study warpstone, Sell warpstone)

A little spark of magic, and you've lost a city block.

[-] Offer prophecies.

If Thunderdome is indisposed, you are potentially the only source of portents in all the Twin Cities. Capitalize on that.

[-] Reveal the truth. (Write-in: who?)

You've got the scope of the nightmare. Tell somebody, and maybe they'll lend a hand.

[-] Toy with the Spear

It's your patron's daughter's gift. It's probably safe. Touch it and see what happens.

[-] Talk to Master Phalaris

Engineer Superior and representative to the Spring for the Lodge of the Harvest Moon, Phalaris desperately requests your attendance at the Spring for a "critical technical juncture".

[-] Investigate somebody. (Write-in: who?)

You always need more answers.

[-] Reveal the truth. (Write-in: who?)

You've got the scope of the nightmare. Tell somebody, and maybe they'll lend a hand.

[-] Go and bet on the gladiatorial games.

Maybe you had a relevant portent?

[-] Hire an assassin. (Write-in: target)

Morr has a brother.

[-] Conduct Morrite services (Write-in: dooming, prophesying, burial)

The Roost is up and running, but the Raven still might lend a wing.

[-] Host an extremely illegal campaign event. (S)

The Reds want justice, vengeance, blood. Gregorios is asking.

[-] Reveal Melissa's treachery (S) (incompatible with VENTURE: [-] Confront Melissa.)

Tell the League what you saw.

[-] Attend a riot. (Incompatible with ACT: [-] Defend Elftown)

The Ratcatchers are protesting the Ulthani ultimatum. In Elftown.

[-] Practice soul magic.

You can buy anything in the Cloisters, including a few particularly illegal books.

[-] Tour the Prison of Mirrors.

Floridus owes you one.

[-] Preach in the streets.

Gauche, yes. Loud, yes. But any press might be good press?

RIOT ACTS

[-] Defend Elftown.

Iefyr suggested it. It's the right thing to do. But there will be blood.

[-] Assault Druchii. (S)

Get vengeance on these killers of your people and teach them who's really best at cloak-and-dagger. Marcus Typhon will proffer assistance.

[-] Give aid. (write-in: district)

Costs explode; wars expand; massacres execute. You have the funds and the men to offer a little succor.

[-] Secure the Roost.

Fortify your home from all comers.

[-] Secure the Shambles.

Protect your people – all of them.

VENTURES

[-] Give a speech to the Senate (write-in: subject).

You have the right, if by technicality.

[-] Attend the Third Luminous Trial.

See the final bout of Angelus and Floridus for leadership of the Cleansing Flame and, perhaps, clear some doubts.

[-] Confront Melissa. (incompatible with ACT: [-] Reveal Melissa's Tragedy.)

A daughter's sins, a father's grief.

[-] See your parents.

You're never going to be ready. But they know everybody. And they might be able to pull some strings.

WRITE-IN

[-] ???

(If there's anything missing that you'd think be prudent for Xenophon, give me a shout and I'll assign it a category.)

AN: 24 hours moratorium to discuss. Questions, feedback, etc. always appreciated.
 
Vote closed
Scheduled vote count started by Graf Tzarogy on Oct 11, 2024 at 6:51 PM, finished with 12 posts and 7 votes.

  • [x] Plan: Seer's Knowledge
    -[x] Secure a weapon.
    -[x] Interrogate Her-Ben
    -[x] Study the Curse of the Sons. [P] [Z]
    -[x] Attend the Third Luminous Trial.
    -[x] Host an extremely illegal campaign event. (S)
    -[x] Explore a district: Elftown [R]
    -[x] Defend Elftown. [E]
    -[x] Secure the Shambles. [L]
    [X] Plan Big Trouble in Little Elftown
    -[x] Study the Curse of the Sons. [P] [Z]
    -[x] Interrogate Her-Ben
    - [x] Hire lawyers.
    -[x] Defend Elftown. [E]
    - [x] Assault Druchii. (S) [E]
    - [x] Reveal Melissa's treachery (S)
    -[x] Explore a district: Elftown [R]
 
Turn Seven Results (Part 1) - Pasts New


Safety first.

You're made your choice – you are a Priest of Morr. And with your defeat of Necoho, your old weapon is a pile of cooling slag on your cell floor. But your God always carried a scythe – so you cannot go unarmed. You think a second, on what you might get. There are the weapon shops in the Cloisters, of course, if you want Elven truesteel or some Belthani artefact, but it feels wrong to request something foreign. The magical districts are right out, no matter how much a flaming sword or flying mace might be useful. With the Key, which you now kept on a chain around your neck, tucked beneath your robes, you needed mundanity. No – all of this was City arrogance. You were a holy man, not a warrior. Your victories were of faith, not of battle. You needed no great blade. Morr used what – not a true weapon, but a tool. The harvestman cuts the corn. You have your dagger on your hip. Your dagger which you made your oaths to Dwarfs and Men and Gods. It is plain steel, with simple leather as the hilt. It is not, as the aristocrats favored, embossed with your initials or a tally of victorious duels, or enchanted, or anything such. But it is yours, and yours alone. And that, in this great chaos that is erupting all around you, is what you can rely on.

So, you take the blade, your trusty dagger, and lay it on the altar of your little shrine in your cell. Carved into the hollow is an engraving of a raven, and Pelops has seen that it is otherwise filled with fresh black roses and long lit tallow candles.

You kneel and lapse into silence.

Meditation is the most ancient practice of your order, and one you do not practice enough.

Unbidden, a memory comes to you, as the old metal of your knife reflects the flicker of the flaming wicks.

You are young, very young, and Aoife is cutting fruit. You reach up to grab a slice of mango – quick – too quick, and she just by accident, cuts you. You scream – and she swears and drops to her knees as you begin to blubber. Blood pouring from the little scrape, you tremble, as she embraces you.

"I am sorry, my dear – I'm sorry." Aoife says.

"It hurts!" you cry.

"It will pass." she says, "If you are brave. And you are – because you tried to take this-" and she offers you the slice your tried to steal.

You take it, gladly, holding back your tears. There is a tang of iron – your own spattered blood – but it still tastes sweet.

A flame flickers out, and you're brought out of your reverie.

You Look, and your dagger shines. The steel near glows a pale white; sharp as the full moon cutting the dark night sky.

You pick it up, and it feels right and solid in your hand. It is tied to you, the Roost, to Morr.

It is your faith, now manifest. Of a Good End for all.

You are a holy man, and you are armed.

GAINED: ATHAME

A sacred dagger. Sanctified in the Roost of Tylos-Kavzar by the Raven himself, it cuts through all spellwork and illusion, especially that which keeps things past their apportioned time.





Cecilia has elected to help you interrogate Her-Ben. With her long experience as a medium for the wealthy, an insane Nehekaran was, according to her "a relaxing change of pace". You would not necessarily agree, considering the amount of screaming he does in his rooms– but help is help, and confidence a bonus.

Your aim here is to figure out what exactly Rosamunde saw with S-Nefer-Ka in Little Khemri with the Ushabti that spat out a sandstorm activated-via-priest-corpse. Her-Ben, who sitting in the corner, skin and bones in his stained linen rags, mumbling to himself some priestly incantation, tearing his fingers raw on his old bronze circlet prying the gem-embedded hieroglyphs of the Gods, is as close to a mummified Nehekaran you're going to get without going all the way over, so here you are.

"My lord?" You're not really sure of the terminology, but Cecilia is trying her best "Lord Her-Ben?"

He does not move from his corner but stops mumbling. There is a beat of silence, then he suddenly screams "SAKHMET, BEGONE!".

Cecilia looks at you. Sakhment is, if you recall from your readings, the Goddess of the Green Moon, wicked concubine of Ptra, the Sun. Well, if you're playing divinities…

"Servant!" you shout. "Dare you speak to your betters with that tone!"

Her-Ben screeches, a noise not unlike the death rattle of a chicken, and curls into a ball.

"Forgive me" he says. "Forgive me, my Lord."

"Yes", you say, and you rack your head – "It is I, Lord, um – Usirian"

Her-Ben laughs with a crazed joy.

"It is over! Am I admitted to the Halls of Judgement?"

"Yes?"

"Gods be Blessed!" he says and turns around.

You and Cecilia freeze.

"You are more beautiful and glorious than I imagined!" Her-Ben says. His missing left eye leaves a gaping void as he stares at you adoringly, and you recoil slightly as a scent worse than the grave issues from his rotten mouth as he moves to kiss your feet.

"My thanks, my honorable Servant" you say, stepping delicately backwards. "This is my, er…" and you gesture to Cecilia. "His assistant!" she cries.

Her-Ben stares at you both. "It was not mentioned in the scriptures Usirian had an aide."

There is a pause.

"It is a – mere – innovation" you say. "The glut of souls, you see, has been so great, we have uplifted a lesser spirit called, er – Glycon!"

Her-Ben immediately bows. "The sins of the Great Necromancer no know bounds! They even harry the very Underworld!" he cries.

"It is time then" says Cecilia, her voice dropping a theatrical octave. "For your judgement."

"Yes" you say. "You must answer our questions three."

"Of course, my Lord" says Her-Ben. "The three Riddles of the Gate. My answers are already prepared. The golden scarab crosses the desert plain. The blessings of the Great Father were the clear waters, the desert heat-"

You blanch. "Er – the questions have changed."

Her-Ben stops. "Changed?"

"Security breach." Cecilia helpfully offers. "Nagash."

A pause, again.

"WHAT EVILS CAN HE NOT COMMIT!" shouts Her-Ben. "I await your new queries."

"Right" you say. "Question the first – how does a Ushabti function?"

"Ah a holy mystery!" says Her-Ben "I am glad to be first-born. If I were not a Liche Priest, how could I pass through?"

"The questions are per profession now" adds Cecilia, unhelpfully.

Another excruciating silence.

"How wise, Lord Glycon" says Her-Ben.

Another pause. You cough.

"Oh yes! The question!" Her-Ben says. "By the Great Pact of our forefathers! For our faith, ye gods said you would come to our aid whenever we might wish – and so you taught us the incantations that might bring divinity into the world. It is but a scrap of that to make a construct. Any man with sufficient connection to the divine might do so by speaking those sacred words."

"And you would say" you inquire "that the actual God inhabits the statue to make it move?"

"Why you would know, Lord Usirian – why, half of Nehekara summons you regularly."

"For the sake of Glycon, who is unschooled in such matters?"

"Of course, of course. It is a binding of the divine into gross matter. Hence why we cannot have so many active at once. You are Gods, of course – but we would not want to take overmuch your attentions."

A binding. Like demonology. Separation of a piece of the Aethyr into this world – which would make it vulnerable. Especially when it was transiting from one place to another. Very, very vulnerable. You think of guillotines, and a hungry maw, and a tall tower.

"How does the divinity transferred?" you ask.

"Another technical question!" says Her-Ben. "I suppose the afterlife needs competent professionals as much as anywhere else!"

Nobody laughs. You cough again.

"Forgive me, my Lord – er – constructs, yes – through three sacred words. Th first opens a channel in the soul of the summoner. The scale of the divine flow is per their connection to the God of their choice. Once the channel is opened, the middle part of the ritual gives the target – the Ushabti or whatever other construct. The end – Omega - shuts it off when sufficient power has conducted through. It will remain there until one allows it to return with the contra-incantation, or the construct is destroyed."

"What if someone fails to say the last word?"

Her-Ben scratches his chin. A full flap of skin peels off, as his nail starts to draw blood.

"That was most forbidden, my Lord – the more divinity conducted, the harsher to the summoner's spirit. If one could survive it – one would suppose they could draw from the God infinitely."

Or, you supposed, if the God had a limit too – until the whole of the divinity was dragged out and trapped in some useful vessel. Why did the Princeps want priests? You understood now. If S-Nefer-Ka had the incantation – and he did, from what Rosamunde saw – and could maintain their soul's stability – and you think of Floridus, and his weird daemonic experimenting with your former Brothers – you could capture a God through their faithful followers. And – thinking of the crashing, horrible monster at the centre of your City – a trapped beast was good to eat.

You shake your head. There was still a possibility this wasn't it – the essence of the Princeps' plan.

"Does the incantation apply only to the Nehekaran Gods?"

Her-Ben cocks his head, and as he does, a black tooth falls out of his swollen gums with a SPLAT to the floor. "You mean yourselves? Of course. If it can bind your glories, all the lesser ones – why, even the Orks have managed it, with their awful rough idols."

Your stomach drops.

"Do you know the incantation?"

Her-Ben stares at you. "That is a fifth question."

A pause.

"You are not Lord Usirian."

He rises, slowly, like an unfurling cobra.

You and Cecilia slowly back away.

"DECIEVER! DECIEVER! DECIEVER!" he screams, as he leaps at you, and you see the metal door of the cell dent heavy as you smash it shut into his face.

He screams, as he lies on the floor, gnashing his teeth, tearing his rags and skin and hair.

"DOOMED!" he says. "WE ARE DOOMED!"

And you are not inclined to disagree.

RISKY ACTION UNLOCKED: Search for the Incantation of the Ushabti





FLIP: Petrification (Heads – Success).

You and Pelops set up a ritual circle under the watchful eye of Zaki. At its centre is the petrified form of a Son – you've been told his name is Drek. Unlike most of his brethren, there are few jewels embedded in his body. There is just the red beryl of the rune of Skavor at his nape – otherwise, the fellow could be one of his mountain cousins, if not for the fact that he was made of marbled granite, his face, downturned in sorrow, forever dappled in veins of black and white. His beard is short, too.

A quick, bad life. And that will all it will ever be for Drek.

Unless you have anything to say about it.

You have a theory, from what Fafnir said – about how Skavor remained within himself, barred from the Underearth. Dying is a sort of sleep, and in sleep, everyone dreams.

Pelops lights the many braziers of incense, and soon the scents of frankincense, myrrh and sandalwood fill the air.

You sit cross-legged, facing the statue directly, eye to eye, less than a foot apart. Around you are twenty-one concentric chalk circles made of tiny copies of verses from the Book of Doors.

Slowly, Pelops lowers each and every one of the lights. Zaki stands, unmoving, as the darkness descends. There is perfect blackness, and perfect silence, in this room beneath the Roost.







You see movement.

Your eyes adjust – but they cannot, because there is no light, not even a little to adjust to – but they do, nevertheless.

In a grey stone room, like the one you were in, but you know you are not anymore, Drek's head slowly rises, jerky, like a trapdoor with a rusty hinge. His whole body trembles – it is still stone – but his fists clench and then unclench, and his mouth moves, and there is a noise like two grindstones meeting.

From the dark, a great shape emerges above you – a wall a thousand miles tall, made of shining metal plates like armour for the world. On every one is emblazoned a glowing rune, and engraved in every sheet are lines and lines of khazalid – names and names and names and names. A dwarf stands at its height, proud. He is gauntleted and girded – you cannot see his face. But his essence pours out – divinity. Not like the ones you know; not the cool calm of Morr or the bright inspiration of Myrmidia. This is not a God of fleeting emotion and faltering faith. This is a god of stone; of certainty; of the Dwarfs.

The figure stands far above, untouchable.

But you've almost forgotten about Drek. He has moved – his stone eyes stare at you blindly. A frozen arm reaches towards you, as if to throttle you. And he speaks but one word – "SIN".

There is an earthquake. The God on the Wall stumbles, the Runes flicker. From the distance, there is a great roar – to shake the heavens and the earth, to make the sun and moon fall. You've heard it once – when you saw Tyleus slay the Beast. You see the God raise his hands, and the earth itself rises, in spikes and mounds and towers to fight. But then, in a blast of anti-light, one great dolorous strike falls.

There is an explosion of dust and rubble, and by the time you rise, the wall is gone.

It is in ruins, and within those, the names. Broken memories litter the earth. All that is standing is a little dome of stone, which falls like water to reveal the God, his metal wrought, his pride gone. He is half-stone now, his is bloodied and bleeding – but he is alive.

But he is alone.

Drek speaks again, gravel down a cliffside: "JUDGEMENT".

To your left, a pillar of blue flame, absolute fury radiating off it. To the right, a pillar of orange flame, bitter and cruel.

The God rises, and turns to the right, and cringes away as the shadows of bulls gore him, for he is soft, and he regrets.

He turns to the left, only to be burnt and burnt again for he survived, and others did not.

So, he runs forward, towards you, and as he does he runs into Drek, merging with his form, ghost over statue, and together, they scream: "FAILURE".

And you feel suddenly your limbs lock up, and your eyes freeze and you're just staring at them, and you can't move and but you can think and you are guilty but you can't move and you hate yourself and you can't move and you're sorry and you can't move and you want to die but you can't move and you're stuck and you're dammed and you can feel and you are ashamed but you cannot move, you cannot move, you cannot move.

And you stay like that, for three hundred years.

And you know what it is, to be a Son of Skavor.



Suddenly, you can move.

You're standing in a soft garden, beneath a familiar tree, and a failure figure in a cowl stands next to a familiar gate.

The black void of the sky is above, speckled with countless stars.

"Would you welcome them?" you ask.

A nod.

"Would they accept it?"

A shake.

"Can they be saved?"

A smile.

And from the gate, a flash of orange.



You are back with Drek in the endless grey, and the God slumps defeated between you. He is nearly all stone now. He is sobbing, alone on the earth.

Above you, a tower, comes looming. Taller than the wall, at its height, it burns with the neon green of warpstone.

Corpses tumble from it, as a thousand million rats, attempt to climb, and scratch and gnaw and kill each other, climbing to the top.

And from inside it, something roars – deeper and more awful than the Great Beast.

An evil not from the untamed outside but made from within.

A Sin worse than all others.

A Judgement of your corruption.

A Failure of everything ever built.

The God is shaking below you. He cannot move.

You offer a hand. He trembles more – and you feel the waves of despair.

The Tower is boiling now, rat corpses falling like rain. Above, a grey hooded stranger duels the Princeps and the Lady Myrmidia, and with each strike of their swords reality itself cracks and Something bangs at the door of all.

"GET UP!" you shout at Skavor.

He does not.

"SAVE US!"

He does not.

"SAVE YOURSELF!"

He does not.

You pull out your dagger from your pocket. Here, it morphs into a single, terrible double-headed axe of dark steel, with two ancient runes.

"DIE WELL!" you say and thrust the weapon in Skavor's hand.

And he looks up, finally, finally, at the Tower.

"Another chance?" he asks.

And you grin.

"Rewrite your end."

And he charges, with you, into the apocalypse.



You wake up.

As you start, Pelops moves to light a candle.

Zaki lets out a surprised snort, as the room is made visible.

Drek's statue has moved. He's not looking down – he's facing you – out, against the world.

Where there was but perfect stone, there is a now a crack, like a tear-track, running down an eye.

An ancient rite unfurls in your mind, one first performed in the furthest North, by a son and his father at the beginning of the world.

You know what you can offer.

Absolution.

VENTURE UNLOCKED: Offer the Grand Rite of Slaying

AN: Sorry for the delay, RL stuff. No vote to get things on a steadier pace. Please enjoy!
 
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Turn Seven Results (Part 2) - Presents New


CONFIDENTIAL

Minutes of the 1st​ Amalgamated Meeting for the People's Self-Defense

Chair: Xenophon, Raven of the Roost (Temple of Morr)

Attendees (organization representing):
  • "Red" Gregorios (United College of Apprentices, Conjurers and Hedge Mages (UCACHM))
  • Father Justice (Friendly Society of Working Soldiers)
  • Titus (Dockworkers League)
  • Dolwen (Fellowship of Vaul)
  • Lord Melui-Akar (Elftown Benevolent Association)
  • Lorelei (the Casino)
  • Cadoc the Blade, Pope (?) (Church of Ranald)


Three workmen, two elves, a pirate and a thief walk into a graveyard.

Your job is to make sure this isn't a joke.

You want to protect your people. All of them – be they man, dwarf or Elf, aristocrat in a tower or beggar dying in an alley. None of them deserve, whatever their sins, what the Tower will bring. So, you've chosen to war against the apocalypse. That's the easy bit. What comes next is much, much worse.

Politics.

You know the Reds want vengeance after the massacre at the docks they're calling "Bloody Santodi". You know the Elves want protection; both from the riot that resulted from last month's bloodbath, and the one to come, if Ditatis and his Ratcatchers do their intended march. And you doubt the Whites or the Druchii won't take what opportunity they can to sabotage the whole thing best they can; for the former, to make their enemies look bad (Ditatis is still a Red, however nominally); for the latter, because they're sick fucks.

So, you hatched your own plot – collective defense for the Cloisters and Elftown. Protection for the people- never a Bloody day again. Now, that you also plan on using whatever results to potentially war against a nascent rat-god is what you're not saying, but half-truths are the bread and butter of politicking.

But to do that, you have to convince who's come to your little meeting (Melissa had done very well in soliciting attendees) not to strangle each other. That's proving rather more difficult than you'd hoped.

At the little gazebo traditionally used for funeral orations on rainy days, Mervin has set out a delightful array of honey pastries that has done little to lighten the mood.

To one side are the Red unionists – Gregorios, who you're familiar with from the League of Salvation, now missing half his nose in a duel with a corsair he was lucky to survive; Father Justice, the successor to Mother Mercy, a gigantic man, a head taller than you, leaning on a cane thick enough to support a house, and Titus, the dockworker, smelling of salt and sea. They're whispering in their little corner – they don't trust Elves as far as they can throw them, long suspicious of "Ulthani imports" driving out local industry and "agents of the Phoenix Court" driving the Cities towards war. But conversely, after their disappearing act at the riot and his ever-pandering to the aristocratic youth, they are no great friends of Ditatis either.

Standing as far away from them are the Elven representatives. First, levitating slightly is Lord Melui-Akar, the informal "Mayor of Elftown" in flowing robes still embroidered with a rainbow of powerstones (he was a lecturer at Saptheion, before the Fall). Second is Dolwen, incredibly muscled for an Elf, wearing a sooty apron – she leads the closest thing the Uranai have to a union, a collection of craftspeople hired on commission by the Lodge and the Flame. Neither has any particular love for the Reds, who they see at best as xenophobes; but they understand they need some ally in the Cities to survive.

Finally, next to you are what you might generously call your faction, there is Lorely, of the Casino. She is in fine dark leather, with a shining cutlass enchanted with Azyr at her hip. She boasted, before the others came, she used it to take the head off a slave-raider on a ship a league away. Beside her is someone you've never met, or even invited, but showed up anyways. Cadoc the Blade, a short man with long, braided hair as they did in the barbarian north, who wore, of all things, the uniform of a Senatorial page came with a smile as wide as a crocodile. He claims leadership ("papacy") of the "Church of Ranald", a group you've heard only whispers of in the Shambles. You didn't believe him until he reached up and pulled a coin from behind your ear and you felt a frisson of divine laughter. When you asked him why now, of all times to make common cause, he just said that it "felt right."

Melui-Akar is weaving some Hysh around his fingers as Father Justice tries to stare him down. You should intervene before anyone gets blasted.

"Friends!" you say, and all eyes in the room turn to you.

"Everything dies.

That is the wisdom my God brings the world. And from that fact, stems another. That each and every one of us is equal. In death, it is proven – for all of us, Elf or man, rich or poor, happy or sad – there is always the same, inevitable fate, set when we are born.

From this truth of equality, stems a third proposition. That as we are all a single class; no one set of us is entitled to any special privilege. That if one says "I deserve to live"; he extends that right to all others, for they are just the same as him. None stand above, and none below – we are but one.

A wound to any is a wound to all.

So, I call you here today – when the sword of Tlanxla hangs over us. All of us have been wounded by those who would make an enemy of our fair Cities. They threaten to strike again. And though it may appear that an attack on some people or District or faction may be of remote importance – harm to others; a problem for someone else – remember. Harm to one is harm to all. We are all equal; we have the same foes. And we all will die. That is a certain prophecy.

The question is whether we fall apart or fight together to see just one more tomorrow."

There is no applause. You are met with somber faces in steely silence. But nobody makes a heated protest. Nobody storms out. Instead, Pope Cadoc tilts his head and says "Well, what're we waiting for? Let's get to work!"

And in a true miracle, everyone does.

WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO PROTECT YOUR PEOPLE?

You have, from the contributions made by yourself and the other meeting participants, 18 "points" of resources to spend prior to Ditatis' intended march. Each of the options below is tagged with who would be performing the duty, and how much it would cost. Make sure to consider if any side is being particularly overtaxed, or conversely, not being utilised; the factions present will remember if Xenophon fears or favors them.


Here also is a map of Elftown and the Cloisters to refer to in planning. Please excuse the very rough photoshop work. The (scheduled) march route is marked in neon green.

[] Air-Evac [0] (Morrites)

The Carpet Corps will try to pluck civilians out of danger wherever they can.

[] Custodianship [1 for each unit, for each location, write-in per assignment; you may assign one troop to multiple locales, or multiple troops to one location] (dependent)

There are a great many places to defend, and you can only be in so many places.

Locations:
  • Talking Waystone (neutral)
  • Shrine to Tyleus the Wanderer (Casino)
  • Forum of Aenarion (Elves)
  • Sundering Memorial (Elves)
  • New Anlec (Elves)
  • Altar to the Heavens (Elves)
  • Altar to the Deep (Elves)
  • Ulthuani Embassy (Elves)
  • The Roost (Morrite)
  • Eagle Gardens (Red)
  • Dockworkers League HQ (Red)
  • Red Campaign Office (Red)
  • Claustro (Red)
Troops:
  • Stormchasers (Red)
  • Mother Mercy's Sons (Red)
  • 3rd​ Popular Milita "People's Power" (Red)
  • Elftown Sea Guard (Elves)
  • Old Saptherians (Elves)
  • The Conclave of Thieves (Ranaldian)
  • Chainbreaker Marines (Casino)
  • The Ludens (Morrite/Casino)
  • Emir Aklan's Carpet Corps (Morrite)
[] To the Barricades! (New Anlec) [3] (Elves)

Mobilize the Elftown public in their own defense through that most traditional of urban past-times - throwing a bunch of shit in the street.

[] To the Barricades! (Claustro) [3] (Reds)

Mobilize the Cloisters public in their own defense through that most traditional of urban past-times - throwing a bunch of shit in the street.

[] The Big Guns (assign to one (1) location) [3] (Elves)

Unearthed from an ancient vault – an Eagle Claw bolt thrower, enchanted to never run out of ammunition.

[] The Big Guns (assign to one (1) location) [3] (Reds)

Stolen from a cutting-edge library – a Lightning cannon, ready to fire the wrath of the sky.

[] General Strike [3] (Reds)

The Dockworkers are willing to pull enough strings to force a work-stoppage in the Universal Bazaar, meaning that whole side of the Cloisters from the Harbormaster to the Waystone will be a total nightmare to navigate as a hundred scabs attempt to do the work of ten thousand. Though you'll be putting more people – the picket lines – right in the line of fire; Gods know which way they'll turn.

[] Succor from Beyond (Cadai or Cytharai or Morai-heg, can be taken more than once) [3] (Elves)

You're bringing some divine firepower, and the Ranaldites too, but Dolwen is confident with a suitable donation she can get more. Pick those favoured by the Asur or the Druchii, or the one loved best by Elftown itself – for exiles from both sides of the Sundering, who better than the goddess beyond either?

[] Iconoclasm [3] (Morrite)

Ditatis is still chief priest of Myrmidia. Since the banning of his political movement, however, the temple's been closed. It won't do much for protection, but since you know how much the Goddess is involved – why not send some folks to turn the place upside down?

[] Wreckers [3] (Casino)

Lorely has a ship. The Dark Elves have a ship. She's confident, with a little ramming, she can create such a shitshow in the harbour to make the Druchii have a very bad day.

[] the Deed [5] (Ranaldite)

Pope Madoc wants to do a small act of terrorism. Just a little bomb, he says, thrown at the right time at the Legion post "Alpine", and they'll spill out like a kicked anthill, ready to break heads. Just get ready to run.

[] Industrial Sabotage [5] (Reds)

UCACHM has a great number of members who work in the Cloisters' arcano-industrial zone (the Gas-Shrine, the Orchards, and the Generating Station). Magical machinery is oh-so dangerous, though, and you never know what might set it off. It'd be an especially brutal trap or ambush, but very loud, and very, very destructive.

[] the Phoenix [5] (Elves)

Lord Melui-Akar is, by marriage, the grand-uncle to the current Phoenix King. He may burn a thousand years of influence and demand personal protection, despite his many years of exile; this will mean direct Ulthuani intervention on the streets of Tylos-Kavzar

AN: Trying a new mechanic here; 24h moratorium to let people figure things out, vote by plan. Feel free to write in tactics too, if you'd like. Please let me know if you have any questions. And as always, thanks for reading!
 
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Vote closed New
Scheduled vote count started by Graf Tzarogy on Nov 13, 2024 at 12:31 AM, finished with 4 posts and 4 votes.

  • [X] Plan: Our People, Our Land
    -[X] Air-Evac [0] (Morrites)
    -[X] Custodianship
    --[X] Talking Waystone (neutral) Stormchasers (Red)
    --[X] Shrine to Tyleus the Wanderer (Casino) The Ludens (Morrite/Casino)
    --[X] Forum of Aenarion (Elves) 3rd​ Popular Milita "People's Power" (Red)
    --[X] Sundering Memorial (Elves) Chainbreaker Marines (Casino)
    --[X] New Anlec (Elves) Elftown Sea Guard (Elves)
    --[X] Ulthuani Embassy (Elves) Old Saptherians (Elves)
    --[X] The Roost (Morrite) Emir Aklan's Carpet Corps (Morrite)
    --[X] Eagle Gardens (Red) Mother Mercy's Sons (Red)
    --[X] Claustro (Red) The Conclave of Thieves (Ranaldian)
    -[X] Wreckers [3] (Casino)
    -[X] To the Barricades! (New Anlec) [3] (Elves)
    -[X] To the Barricades! (Claustro) [3] (Reds)
 
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