Runequest solo - part 2: Earth goddess and Red Moon

Windsday - Truth Week - Fire Season

Yelm is still fierce and angry in the vault of heaven, and there seems to be fire even on the wind. Hessa, and her poor mount, miss the sheltering shade of the little forest as they plod over the grassy hills.

As Hessa's path draws nearer to Earthshaker Temple, the wilderness gives way to settled lands. She wasn't exactly sure when she left Lunar Tarsh and passed into Old Tarsh; the architecture all looks the same, and all the people look and speak and act the same, but Tarshites who live round Mount Kero Fin and the Earthshaker Temple are the sworn enemies of the Lunar Empire.

A unit of militia soldiers on patrol is the first sign that she has, in fact, crossed into enemy territory; the sergeant wears a straight sword at his belt, unlike the curving scimitars favoured by the Lunars to honour their Red Moon Goddess.

The soldiers show a brief interest in the traveller. Hessa is happy to have someone to talk to besides her horse, and introduces herself as a messenger from anti-Lunar agents in Dunstop, bearing coded tablets for certain parties in Wintertop. They tell her the lords of Wintertop have been quiet of late, and everything in the city is peaceful; they hope her news won't change that. "I'm just the bearer. I've not read it. I don't even know the code," said Hessa, quoting verbatim a Lunar soldier she once spied on in an alehouse to add a soupçon of veracity to her tale. The soldiers wish her luck and send her on her way.

[I rolled their response as a Rumour--
background, government
±4 good fortune/ruin
Roughly / Tranquil

Q: Anything amiss at temple? unlikely : O5 C3 - yes, but... Listen check needed to overhear something; Listen (65%): 16, ok
Q: What is overheard? UNE: mysterious - rumour - community (rolling another rumour, as it seems like a good way to get sub-plots/side-quests/Threads going...)

Rumour: misc- warning
±3 gain/disaster
spread / danger]

The evening sky is hazy and forlorn when Hessa first spots the Earthshaker Temple in the distance. There's a leaden feeling in her stomach as she draws near, but being lost in the crowds outside it seems safer than then making camp at a remove.

The mood outside the temple complex is subdued. Bands of pilgrims mill about their tents speaking in low tones, tending to the tethered animals (and one or two chained slaves) they brought as offerings to The Destroyer, but they intermingle very little. Even the sporadic groups of dancers seem aloof from the crowd as they leap and pound the ground in imitation of their terrible goddess. Everywhere is the glint of bronze weapons and the slow booming of drums. Acrid smoke from incense-infused cooking fires stings Hessa's eyes as she moves amongst the throng, searching out a site for her own tent. She strains to overhear snatches of hushed conversations, and learns of a pervasive worry that bad sorts of people are coming to stir things up in Wintertop, harassing pilgrims and farmers alike when passing through. Hessa hopes that none take her for one of these 'bad sorts'; she'd rather not end up a victim on one of Maran Gor's altars herself.

[Spot Hidden to find safe-looking group of pilgrims to camp near 50%: 54, oops
Reaction=uncertain, they leave her alone

Q: Do the malefactors appear? 50/50: O1 C7 - no]

After a restless night, she's relieved to be up with the dawn and on the road before most of the other pilgrims have stirred from their slumber. The road leading up through the foothills of is as well-tended as any one might find in the Lunar heartland, and her horse makes excellent time. But there is surprisingly little traffic.

[random encounter = dwarf
reaction = active dislike

I printed out a copy of FANGS for quick monster stats, along with some pages from the Old School Resource Pack, so I'm set for encounters for a while. For this first encounter, I just went with Fangs' Dwarf #1. As usual for the first combat of a campaign, the game mechanics will be shown in greater detail for the benefit of readers who are less familiar with (or endeared of) the game system.]

Just after midday, Hessa comes to a narrow pass with a dead tree felled to mostly block it. A dwarf stands before it, clad in a scale hauberk and a bulbous bronze helm. "Hold you there," he shouts in thickly-accented Tarshite. "Give your gold or not you pass!" Were she a better rider, she could jump both dwarf and barrier, but as he is punctuating his demand with an aimed crossbow, she dare not take risks.

Hessa dismounts at a distance, lest she injure her mount, and prepares to fight. Hessa closes about half the distance to the dwarf, crouching as best she might behind her shield and gripping her spear as if she aims to throw it.

[round 1]
The dwarf mumbles a spell over his weapon, lets her draw as near as he dares, then shoots. The magic makes one bolt into three, but the dwarf's aim is risible, and Hessa hears the missiles whistle over her head. She changes her grip on her spear and advances the remaining distance as the dwarf hastily readies his warhammer & shield.

[Playing theatre-of-the-mind, so for simplicity I ruled that movement would take Hessa's full action. He cast Multimissile-2, so got 3 attacks at 30%: 88, 62, 37 all missed even without adjusting for H's Defence]

[round 2]
Hessa stabs with her spear, but overcautiously, and barely scrapes the dwarf's shield. He makes a clumsy swing with his hammer, and she and even clumsier block with the bottom edge of her shield. The force of the blow is too great for the dried-out leather of the strap. It snaps in half, and the shield falls to the ground at her feet. Perhaps she'd ought to have oiled it like the commander had said.

[Hessa has a SIZe advantage over the dwarf, so wins the initiative, attacking on Strike Rank 6 (vs his SR 7). Neither her attack roll nor the dwarf's shield parry succeeded, so it's a clean miss. Then the dwarf attacks, also missing, but Hessa rolls a 98, Fumble. d% on the melee fumble table = shield strap breaks.]

[round 3]
The dwarf sneers and says words in a language Hessa's never heard, yet cannot fail to understand. She responds with some equally crude Tarshite argot.

Her spear darts out with all her weight behind it. The bronze tip finds a weak spot in the dwarf's shield and bursts through nearly an arm's length, scraping along the side of his stout helm. Hessa lets go the spear, and the dwarf is compelled to drop his shield. His hammer swings angrily at Hessa, but she dances nimbly out of reach.

[The dwarf has a 5% Defence, so Hessa's adjusted attack chance is (40-5=)35%. She rolled an 06, which is under 1/5 what she needed, so the attack Impales, inflicting full base damage (7) + rolled damage (1D6+1) + her damage bonus (1D4) for a total of 15. The dwarf rolled a successful Parry, so interposed his shield. The shield can absorb 12 points, so three points of damage got through to (1d20=) his head, but were blocked by his 4-point helm.

Weapons which Impale can get stuck; the chance of removing them whilst fighting is twice the unmodified chance to Impale (in Hessa's case, 2/5 of 40, or 16%) and happens, if at all, on the following round. She decided not to bother.

The dwarf rolled a 20 on his attack, which would have hit (30% skill) if not for Hessa's 15% Defence.]

[rounds 4-6]
Hessa draws her dagger. She hangs back, afraid to get within reach of the dwarf with her shorter weapon. Both weapons swish several times through empty air.

[They both attack on SR 7 now; Hessa hesitates so she can parry (so attacks on SR 8). But no attack or parry rolls succeed for 3 rounds.]

[round 7]
Then the dwarf overextends, and Hessa strikes before he can recover. Her dagger pierces the cuirbouilli protecting the dwarf's upper arm, and doesn't stop until it scrapes against bone. His arm falls useless and the warhammer tumbles from his grasp.

[Dwarf missed, her parry failed. Then she rolled a hit against his failed parry. She rolled 7 damage; -3 for armour meant 4 points got through, dropping total HP to 9 and the right arm (3hp) location to -1.]

[round 8]
The dwarf backpedals, casting a spell over his injury. The magic takes hold, and is in the process of knitting his torn flesh back together when Hessa springs forward with a mighty swing, opening a gaping wound in his thigh. The dwarf falls over on his backside.

[The Dwarf cast Healing-4. As it affects his own body, he doesn't need a focus, so it takes effect on his DEX SR +1/point of POW expended (4+2=6); Had he taken damage, it would have spoilt the casting (but cost no POW). 4 for the Healing + 2 for the Multimissile earlier brings the dwarf's current POW down to 9, but cures all damage he's taken so far.

But on SR 7 he's hit for (7-3=) 4 more damage. With his right leg at 0, he falls.]

[round 9]
The dwarf just manages to draw his scimitar in an attempt to fight from the ground, but Hessa has no difficulty in getting past his guard, opening a terrible bleeding rent in his left shin.

[There's a +20% bonus for attacking a target on the ground. Attacking from the ground halves skill, but parries are unaffected. Hessa hit for 9-3=6 damage to the left leg, bringing it to -2 and the dwarf's total HP to 3.

Q: Does the dwarf surrender? likely (3+): O3 C6 - yes]

As she circles for another go, the dwarf stretches out his left hand and lowers his blade. "Surrender! Not to kill!"

"Fine by me," says Hessa as she saunters over to pick up the crossbow lying in the dust. It's of real dwarven make, probably the finest device she's ever seen in her life. "Oooooh, this is nice. Think I'll have it as your ransom."

By evening, Hessa has reached the imposing gates of Wintertop. The bored guards let her through with a minimum of questions; it's almost time to close the gates, and they'd prefer not to get caught up in anything this late in their watch. She finds a cheap stable [1L/day] in the poor quarter, then goes in search of the tavern and her new employer.

[inconsequential random encounters redacted.

Via Cities, the tavern she seeks is of (1d3=) Average quality, as is the food. Its clientèle are mostly warriors and their ilk.]

The Red Moon is a nondescript drinking house in the poor quarter, halfway down a dismal narrow street. The shingle above the door immediately arrests Hessa's attention, emblazoned as it is with a cartoony image of a Lunar hoplite baring his spotty bottom. It's so absurd she laughs in spite of her self, forgetting for a moment the utter blasphemy of it all. And when she does remember, it makes her laughter feel terribly inappropriate, and thus harder to suppress.

Once she's finally composed herself, she goes in. The place is filled with warriors and their hangers-on, a rowdy bunch kept under control by the scarred mound of sinew leaning over a troll-maul by the door. Hessa marches straight up to the bar and tells the barkeep she's been sent to deliver message to Baldakkal.

[Q: Is Baldakkal here? doubtful : O3 C5 - no]

"He ain't here. You'll need to come back."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Mmmhhh."

"Is there anywhere I can stay? You got rooms here?"

[Q: Room available? 50/50: O4 C4 - yes, but...]

"Not here. Try down at the Anvil. That way, two streets over. Tell 'em Rusun sent ya."

The Anvil's not the worst inn Hessa's ever been in, but it's well within her budget (so nearly). She hands over 3 silver coins for food and lodging to the proprietress. The beldam's eyes go wide when she sees them.

"Hey! These is Lunars! I run a respectable establishment here. You pays with Guilders, or you gets another room!"

"I won 'em off a Sartarite mercenary, didn't I? An' he got 'em as war booty. They're the same weight as Guilders, so I don't see what you're on about!"

"Well, that being the case..."

The coins disappear under her skirts. Hessa takes the meagre provender she's purchased up to her room, scarfs it down, then collapses on the lumpy straw mattress.

next post: Down and out in Wintertop

Runequest solo - part 1: Out of Dunstop

Freezeday - Truth Week - Fire Season 1627

"Hey, Praxian girl!"

"Piss off, Iaros. I thought I told you to stop calling me that."

"I called your name three times, and you pretended not to hear."

"I'm exceedingly busy."

"Doing what?"

"I've got a full day planned."

"You're sat in the portico of the basilica watching people wander through the forum."

"It's too hot. It's only the marble and the shade that make it bearable."

"So, you planning to rob one of the stalls or something?"

"No."

"What then? Just sit there and eat that whole basket of sweeties by yourself?"

"We begin to understand one another."

"Well I hate to be the one to ruin your plans--"

"--you don't, really--"

"--but Big Boss sent me to fetch you. Well?"

"Now? It's still morning!"

"I'll just tell him you've better things to do, shall I?"

Hessa heaves a histrionic sigh and rises heavily to her feet, brushing crumbs from the skirt of her threadbare chiton. She stomps out of the cool shade without a word. Iaros scurries to catch up with her.

"Where are you going? The meeting's this way."

"I know where we're going. But I'm going to wash up in the fountain first. My fingers are sticky."

"Well you are a thief."

Hessa's attempt at suppressing her ridiculous giggle results in a most indelicate snort, but Iaros pays her no mind. She washes her hands in the fountain, then hazarding a suspicious glance at Yelm blazing high in the vault of heaven, sticks her head under the water spout and lets the cold water cascade through her hair and down her neck and shoulders. With her newly-clean fingers she shakes the excess water from her unruly (and most un-Praxian) black curls, forcing Iaros back a step or two.

"So, do I look presentable enough for a meeting with the man himself?"

"There's jam on your chest."

[It is not at all obvious from previous postings on this blog, but I dig out my old 2nd edition Runequest rulebook at least once a year. I've had a lot of PCs making forays into Snakepipe Hollow and Scorpion Hall, as well as a host of non-RQ solo adventures I converted on the fly, but none of this ever gets typed up. I have also started various free-form adventures with Mythic and other solo tools, but none of those have gotten typed up nicely either. Until now, I suppose. This adventure is the start of a campaign that I began in early 2023 and to which I have periodically come back in the intervening months/years.

I don't really remember what started it, but it came hard on the heels of a mercenary campaign based on a Lunar incursion to the foothills round mount Kero Fin. I probably just wanted something less martial. So I rolled up 4 new PCs (as that's what I can fit on a sheet of A4 lined paper) and picked the most interesting one to use as the main PC, with the idea that she'd encounter the others as things progressed.

Glorantha is a huge and very rich setting, which can be quite daunting and also lead down research rabbit-holes as the answer to a seemingly innocent question involves poring through decades worth of source material. I'm going to keep it very simple and invoke the very useful Your Glorantha Will Vary (YGWV) dictum, so expect deviations from canon. My aim is to primarily use the 2nd edition sourcebooks I have, but I do have all the very lovely RQ:AiG pdfs from a bundle and I am not above mining them for background and monster stats. I will do my best to explain aspects of the game world (and my interpretations thereof!) as I go, for the benefit of those who don't know the setting. A lot of the fun of RQ is being able to mix in all my favourite aspects of bronze (*cough*iron*cough*) age society without worrying overmuch about historicity.

I will do my best to introduce my main character through her actions rather than via a protracted look at character generation, but here follows her initial character sheet with the very broad strokes of her background to help set the scene.

I'd been looking for a chance to use this as a PC portrait ever since I came across it

Hessa originally hails from the city of Furthest, the capital of Lunar Tarsh. Tarsh is split in two: Lunar Tarsh is a province of the Lunar Empire, whilst Old Tarsh comprises the rebellious tribes of Tarshites living round mount Kero Fin. Hessa was born in one of the brothels in Furthest's poor quarter. Her mother was one of the working girls there. Her father was evidently a passing Praxian nomad employed as a mercenary by the Lunar army, but no more about him can be deduced, not even his clan (sable, bison, rhinoceros, impala, etc.). Her mother's profession isn't shameful per se, but Hessa grew up in the demi-monde and never left it, which is why her Previous Experience (Appendix H in the rulebook) was an "apprenticeship" with a gang of Thieves. She's currently living in Dunstop, working for an allied gang.

I've always thought of Lunar Tarsh as akin to romanised Gaul and/or Magna Graecia. Tarshites (and the neighbouring Sartarites) are depicted as Mediterranean types (and I will generally use Grecian/Roman pictures to illustrate them), whilst the Praxians look more like central asians. So Hessa has her mum's dark colouring and thick, curly hair, but a round face with high cheekbones and epicanthal folds; this has made it harder than usual to find good character portraits, so some imagination will need to be supplied to fill in where my picture stock and photoshop skills aren't up to the task! She's also a bit heavier (SIZ 2 higher than STR) than many old illustrators would render, especially in the pulps.

Hessa
-----
Background: Townsman, Lunar Tarsh
Prev. Exp.: thieves

STR 12 CON 15 SIZ 14 INT 17
POW 12 DEX 15 CHA 16 DB+1D4
HP 16 SR 4/2 Defence 15%

Skills: Move Quietly 50%, Hide 50%, Spot Hidden 50%, Trap Set/Disarm 45%, Listen 65%
Weapons: 1-H spear 40%/15%, med. shield 45%, dagger 40%/30%

All PCs/campaigns need some sort of goal to pursue; for a long-term goal I wanted Hessa to go adventuring in the city of Pavis and the Borderlands beyond, so I did my usual thing of starting on the other side of the map. I haven't figured out why she wants to go there yet, but it may just be a place that's far away from her current life. Her other, more immediate goals are: (1.) get clear of the thieves' ring, (2.) become an initiate in a cult (probably the Seven Mothers, as that's how she was raised), and (3.) find a weapon trainer (her underwhelming spear skill from mandatory militia training is not sufficient to survive a dangerous trek across Dragon Pass to reach Pavis). Come to think of it, she should probably (4.) learn to speak some Tradetalk as well; there are probably not that many Tarshite speakers where she's headed.

NB. Dates will be expressed according to the standard Gloranthan calendar. I may switch to the Lunar reckoning, which is the one Hessa actually knows and uses in daily life, when she spends more time in Lunar-controlled areas (her first adventure takes her outside it almost immediately). I have been keeping fastidious track of time on a copy of the calendar I printed out from Cults of Prax, mostly with the aim of figuring out weather and seeing when important religious festivals fall. It's not really necessary to understand the timekeeping to follow the adventure; just look as it as more background colour.]

The Big Boss holds court in a nearly-windowless attic above a seedy tavern in the poor quarter. It smells marginally less of stale sweat and spilt wine than the rest of the establishment. Some of his heavies are sat on the floor in the corner beneath a skylight, playing knucklebones for clacks [copper pieces]. The Big Boss himself is at a table with a burning candle, laboriously scratching a missive into a wax tablet. The Big Boss —for he answers to no other name— looks up at the sound of footsteps, and squints at the newcomers with his one good eye. "Take a seat, me dear. I'm almost ready."

Hessa does as she is bidden, opposite the Big Boss in the only other chair. She slouches more and more as he writes, twisting her curls absently round one finger. Iaros merely shifts his weight from side to side, trying not to look as bored as he must certainly be.

The Big Boss finishes writing, then reads over his letter with excruciating slowness, his stylus stopping on each word in turn, his free hand over his face so none can see the words as he mouths them, even though Hessa and Iaros are canny enough to look away. [Read/Write Native Language defaults to 10%.] Satisfied, he snaps the tablets closed and wraps a piece of cord round them thrice, then tips his reeking tallow candle over them to keep the cord in place and provide a field in which to roll the cylinder seal he had cut to counterfeit the mark of a local trader.

"Y'ever been to Wintertop?"

"Huh? Oh, er, no," stammers Hessa, roused abruptly from her daydreams. "Dunstop is the furthest I ever been from, you know, Furthest."

"I hear Wintertop is nice. So Baldakkal tells me. He runs things there. Out of a tavern called the Red Moon, if you can believe it. I need you to take this to him. Go see Sada about a horse. It'll be a gift to Baldakkal from me. And you work for him until he needs to send a message back."

"Sounds good, Big Boss."

Hessa runs off home at once to equip for the journey. She throws her extra tunics and her decent remaining underthings into a sack with her mirror and comb, deciding against the new pair of sandals which rub her feet all wrong. Her militia gear will most certainly be required: the heavy travelling cloak she's been using as a blanket, the round wooden shield that saw most of its action as a tabletop, and the spear she'd rammed into a chink in the wall to make a drying rack for her laundry. She lugs her gear to the stables, where the Big Boss' underlings give her a sleek riding horse with a saddlebags loaded with trail rations and camping gear. Hessa had hoped for a travelling stipend, but alas none was provided. There's a grand total of 15L in her purse; she'll have to forage or steal should she need any more food or equipment.

Hessa is soon out the city gates and underway.

[NB: 15L is 15 Lunars (silver pieces). A Lunar is worth 10 copper Clacks. A golden Wheel is worth 20L. All of these carry cultural connotations, and some places use different currencies.

The journey to Wintertop was largely played via the random encounter (Cultivated & Open terrain type) tables. I'll be omitting uneventful encounters to get to the good parts.

Her first 'quest' (take item X to place Y) was something I came up with just to get things moving, on the theory that something would eventually happen to spark an actual adventure. As it started with overland travel, I didn't use scenes and just set the Chaos Die (MCSV) to d10.]

It's a gentle ride through farmland to the river, which she reaches by evening. There are clusters of cottages near the banks with fisherfolk coming to-and-fro as they pull in the last catch of the day. Hessa is looking for somewhere to stable her horse for the night when she spots a familiar face.

[Encounter=NPC Friend, d6=m
Q: Who? Quaintly / Warm]

Bomoor is a spry old fisherman, garrulous and avuncular, and also a bit of a smuggler. He puts her up in his cottage for the night, and the next day helps her cross the river. She bids the smuggler farewell, then sets out towards Wintertop. She's little worry of getting lost in the open country; the 12km high spire of Mount Kero Fin points the way.

As she travels, she spots a magnificent sky bull winging overhead. Though a reminder of the Storm Bull cult, ever hostile to followers of the Lunar pantheon, she cannot help but stare in wonderment at the beast until it has flown out of sight.

That night she sleeps in the wilderness, concealing her tent beneath fallen boughs and leafy vines in a stand of trees.

[Night encounter= Dragonewt Party
Camouflage roll default 10+10=20%; 11, success; they don't spot her camp, and wouldn't care about the horse grazing nearby.]

next post: hazards of travel

Call of Cthulhu: Some facts pertaining to the disappearance of Miss Octavia Seaward

Well I'm dreadfully sorry you missed her. But before you arrived I did, as it happens, have a chance to talk with Miss Seaward, and she told me all about it. Well, you know how she is, once she gets going. But as we've ample time, why don't you pull up a pew, ha ha! -- sorry, old vicar's joke -- and I can relate to you her odd tale.

She'd finally gotten homesick after all those years of living in Paris. So, she shut up her atelier and came back home to Thornmeadow. She arrived on 20 April, unannounced, and to an empty home! Lord Seaward was in Town, of course, Lady Seaward was in Cornwall visiting her sister, and Thomas had just returned to Oxford after the Easter break. She'd very purposefully not brought her paints, and the weather wasn't terribly conducive to setting up outside for a landscape. She'd nothing to do but mope in the library and make her way through the drinks cabinet.

Then on about the third day she overheard two of the maids talking. Seems there was some odd sort of structure in the woods that frightened the groundskeeper. It was so great a shock that he became feverish and took to bed. Well, I don't have to tell you how this gossip met with Miss Seaward! She immediately purloined a pair of wellies and marched out into the wood on the pretext of taking some air.

[There are two RPGs where I will sometimes just roll up a character completely at random and see what happens to them. Traveller is obviously the first (Q.E.D.), the second being Call of Cthulhu. For this PC, I rolled a die to pick a Profession, and rolled stats in order, by-the-book (and appallingly well: I rolled nothing under a 12. Had I been playing T&T, she'd have qualified for warrior-wizard!).

Investigator Name: Octavia Seaward
Occupation: Artist
Colleges, Degrees: Sorbonne, - *
Birthplace: Thornmeadow Manor, Bucks.**
Sex: F Age: 26

STR: 12 DEX: 12 INT: 18 Idea: 90
CON: 14 APP: 16 POW: 14 Luck: 70
SIZ: 14 EDU: 16 Know: 80
HP: 14 SAN: 70 Damage Bonus: +1D4

Art: Painting 40%
Credit Rating 30%
Fast Talk 65%
Hide 30%
History 70%
Library Use 45%
Listen 45%
Other Language: French 80%
Other Language: Latin 55%
Persuade 45%
Psychology 50%
Sneak 30%
Spot Hidden 80%

* She studied art history at the Sorbonne, but never completed her degree, instead dropping out to live the life of a bohemian artist on the Left Bank. She's a tolerably good painter, but with her inherited wealth she's not had to worry about selling any of her canvases.

** She was born at her family's ancestral home in Buckinghamshire, a 17th century manor house whose grounds encompass parts of Boarstall Wood.

I played this adventure quite a while ago, but only typed up my (handwritten) notes yesterday. For rules I used the 6th edition of CoC with the Solo Investigator's Handbook. This was, I think, my first time using it, so I followed nearly all its suggestions & rules to the letter. My notes therefore tracked the course of the adventure with definite time-stamps. These don't fit the narrative style I've chosen, but I'll keep them in as GM notes to show how it played out. I'll also keep a running tally of the Mythos Points; these accrue during SANity-blasting events, and are added to the result of certain die rolls to drive the adventure towards a more horrifying conclusion.

The scenario was generated with the d% tables in chapter 2--

PROBLEM: While on holiday at your family’s house by the lake, you discover a strange, black structure/formation in the middle of the forest.

QUEST SOURCE: Overheard conversation

Now back to the adventure...]


11:15am - Development - random event: witness crime

Octavia -- I may call Miss Seaward Octavia, mayn't I? Only I've been vicar of the parish since she was a 12 year old with scraped knees. Octavia went crashing off into the wood, but with very little real idea of where this mysterious structure was to be found. She wandered aimlessly, looking for a path or what-not that might lead her in the right direction. [Tracking roll (10%), d%=14, fail]

She was on the verge of abandoning the whole project when she heard shouting. She could only make out that there was a man and a woman. She hadn't a clue as to the substance of their disagreement, only that it was rather heated.[Listen (45%) roll failed] So she crept closer to get a peek. [Sneak (30%) - 22, success] They'd the look of country folk, but she didn't recognise them as tenants. Admittedly, having been away for so long it's doubtful she could have.

Well, the [1d2=]man had the woman by the wrist. He wouldn't let go despite her vehement protestations. She was screaming very clearly that he should unhand her, but his words were just a mad babbling, not a language at all. He certainly didn't look to be a foreigner! Then he produced a knife, and stabbed her repeatedly, chortling and raving all the while.

Octavia was horrified at the gruesome deed, but she remained firm. When the man began to drag the body away, she resolved to see where he was taking her. She meant to return with the police, so he’d not get away with this heinous crime.

[Sanity loss for witnessing the murder is 0/1d3: Her current SAN is 70, but she rolled a 93, failure. The loss of 1d3=1 SAN brought her to 69 with no ill effects. The event also was worth 1 Mythos Point.

Q: Does he take the body to the structure? Y]

The beastly fellow dragged the body of the poor unfortunate all the way to a mysterious structure -- the very one which'd brought Octavia out into the wood in the first place. It was a massive piece of black stone, basalt I think she called it, fashioned in the shape of a gateway. It was all of one piece, no joins between the sides and the lintel. The whole was covered in carvings of a bizarre pagan character. And before it was a low, rude altar of the same material. The madman hefted the body onto this last and began to cover it -- the altar I mean -- with her blood.

No, I didn't ask for the particulars of how he'd done it, nor, thank the Lord, did she offer any. She was greatly sickened by the whole affair. But she guessed, rightly, that the police would have no trouble following this lunatic's gory trail through the forest, so immediately went back home to ring them.

[The grisly sight cost 1/1d6 SAN to witness. d%=02, successful roll, so only loses a single point (to 68). +2 Mythos points (3 total).]


11:53am - Dice Roll - Something Happens: notice mechanical hum coming from the cellar

When she'd got back, there was an unexplained humming sound, which sounded like it was coming up through the floorboards from the wine cellar. But her immediate concern was to summon the police, so she rang straightaway.

[Q: Does she get through? Y]


12:32pm - Dice Roll - Visual Effect - Power goes out

As she was waiting for them to arrive, there was a power cut. The humming noise continued unabated, so she sent some servants to check it out whilst she met with the constabulary.

[Names were either generated with Byakhee or off the top of my head. Personality traits were rolled, one each, with the NPC Keyword Modifier Table in the Solo Investigator's Handbook. Results as reported below.

I made Octavia's APPearance x5 (80%) roll to gauge their initial reactions: 39, success (favourable).]

Two of them came. There was a Detective Inspector Humphries, whom Octavia described as particularly monomaniacal, and Detective Sergeant Langley, whose 'artistic temperament' seemed to please her greatly. I took that to mean she found him young and rather handsome. She gave her account, then led them to the scene of the crime.

[Q: Do they find it? unlikely: d%=Maybe
Verb table for a reason: welcome, drink

Q: Is something trying to keep them away? Y
POW vs POW on the resistance table: 14 vs (3d6+6=)14; O succeeds.]

The rain started bucketing down. They were soaked through in a matter of minutes, even beneath the heavy canopy of trees. DS Langley kept suggesting they turn back, but neither Octavia nor the Inspector would hear of it. She said that the nearer they came, the more she felt something, a kind of force, urging her to turn back. Well, she'd not hear of that, either!


1:39pm - Danger - encounter a mythos creature
Verbs table: parade, strangle
rolling 1d3 to determine who gets attacked.

DS Langley abruptly called out in a fright, gesticulating wildly. 'There! Something moving in the trees! It was 'orrible!' Or words to that effect. But there was nothing there.

[Only he made his Spot Hidden roll.

What he saw occasioned a loss of 1d6=6 SAN, but as he failed his Idea roll, he did not fully comprehend what he saw and thus avoided a bout of Temporary Insanity.

+2 Mythos Points (5 total)]

They pressed on, much more cautiously, mind, as the sergeant was a sensible fellow, no matter how 'artistic' his temperament. But they got separated in the mist and rain. Octavia began to worry she'd never find them when DS Langley began to shout again. She followed the sound of his voice, only to greeted by a 'Don't look, miss!' Well, I needn't remind you what happens when our good Octavia is enjoined not to do something!

It was, said Octavia, a sight both pitiful and terrible. The Inspector was dead. He lay there with a startled expression, his head lolling at an impossible angle on his bruised neck. Langley was staring down at him, shaking from more than the cold and damp. 'Who could've done his? And without our seeing?'

Octavia took pity on the chap and led him back to the house.

[SAN loss is 0/1D4 for Octavia, but 1/1d6 for Langley as it's someone he knows well: both rolls succeed, so L loses one, down to 43 SAN.]


2:17pm - Dice Roll - Random Event: phone rings

When they reached Thornmeadow, Octavia was delighted to find the power had been restored. She made immediately for the study with the aim of getting a nice restorative brandy down the sergeant. She poured one for herself, too, I rather suspect. That odd humming had stopped, but Octavia said she'd forgotten all about it at the time.

The telephone started ringing. As the servants appeared to be in no rush to answer, she gave in and answered it herself. The person on the other end wouldn't stop mumbling. After several increasingly forceful entreaties to speak up, she knew that they didn't hear her at all. She strained to make out what the unknown caller was saying -- it was a series of numbers, repeated ad infinitum with only the briefest of pauses at the start of the sequence. She noted it down and found it rather reminded her of a set of co-ordinates. She looked it up in an old atlas; it was up a mountain in the Peak District.

[Q: Power restored by the time they return? Y

I rolled on the General Location table to get Mountains; I'll only roll on the Mountain table if/when she gets there or does appropriate research.

Q: In England? Y

+1 Mythos Point (6)]


2:21pm - Downtime - Disturbed
verbs: contest, violate

After that, and prefatory to another round of brandy, Octavia suggested they change into dry clothes. She showed Langley to Thomas' room, and told him to help himself from the wardrobe. She found a dry frock and then saw about finding the servants to light a fire for them in the library. The servants were still nowhere to be found, forcing her to light it herself. She'd not hear of Langley helping her.

She was just going to the drinks cart when there was a great low rumbling and then the floor gave way. She'd just enough presence of mind to leap toward the door. Langley was too slow or too surprised, and tumbled down.

[Dodge rolls were needed; only O (24%) succeeded.

Q: Is it deep? Y : 1d6x10=20'
Langley takes 2d6=8 damage from the fall, dropping him to 6hp. He made his CONx5 roll to stay conscious after losing half his current HP, but failed his Luck (POWx5) roll to be able to walk.

Q: Any broken bones? Maybe (a bad fracture)
Q: What does he see at the bottom? suffer, avenge
+1 Mythos Point (7)]

It was very dark below and the dust kicked up in the collapse wasn't helping matters. Calling down to Langley revealed him to be alive, though with a possibly broken leg.

Then he added, 'What is this place? It looks like a medieval torture chamber!'

'Never mind about that. Just you stay put whilst I find a way to get you out!'


2:30pm - Downtime - undisturbed

It had taken the noise of the floor caving in to finally rouse the servants from whatever they found more important than their duties. Well, you know what they say, good help and all that. She told Stevens -- that's the butler, I think. Or is Jones the butler and Stevens the groundskeeper? Well, the butler, at any rate, made an appearance. Octavia told him she needed the keys to the cellar, as it had been locked again, so to fetch them forthwith and then help her is retrieving poor Sergeant Langley.

[Q: Cellar locked? Maybe (yes, but can get keys)
Q: All as expected? No : arrest, disgrace

Psychology (50%): 68, fail]

The butler returned with the keys and a torch. 'After you, Miss Octavia.' She'd only gone down five steps when she heard him shut the door behind her and lock her in!

2:25pm - Discovery - run into someone: another victim
NPC=clergy, talkative

And that's where our paths intersect. I was first alerted to her presence by her pounding on the locked door, and the concomitant stream of most unladylike epithets. Fortunately I'd my torch with me. It was a simple matter to follow the sound to its source. She was more than relieved to see a familiar face, and I thought I'd best try to keep her spirits up.

'It's no use,' I said, 'I've already tried it. But I came in by a differnt way, so if we work together I'm sure we can find a way out of this predicament.'

[Octavia's Psychology (50%) roll was 03, a special success]

I'm afraid she saw right through my bravado. But in her state of shock it didn’t occur to her to enquire how I’d gotten down there in the first place.

She did agree there must be another way out. Thornmeadow had been inhabited by a Catholic branch of the family during the Civil War, after all, so has its fair share of priest holes and hidden passages. But first we needed to find Langley.


2:37 - Discovery - caught up in occurrence related to investigation - requires Occult roll

We passed through the wine cellar and down a narrow, brick-lined tunnel ending in a door of reinforced iron. Locked, of course. And daubed all over in reddish-brown paint with the most devilish-seeming symbols. We knew not what they portended, but felt sickened by them all the same.

[Both failed their Occult rolls. +1 Mythos Point (8)]


2:39pm - Discovery - memory sparked

But then Octavia recalled an old family legend. Not only had the resident Seawards been Catholics, but one of them, Richard Seward, had been a priest. Not only that, but the deluded sort, wholly given over to witchcraft and satanism and that sort of rubbish. She'd never credited it before now.

[History (70%) roll succeeded; +1 Mythos Point (8)

Q: Is DS Langley still there? N]

We retraced our steps, and tried a different passage. At length we came to the area beneath the collapsed floor. But of DS Langley there was no trace! Whatever had been in the 'medieval torture chamber' had been largely smashed and broken. In an adjoining space we found more of the machines, devices of complicated aspect and uncertain purpose.


2:42pm - Danger - feel a threatening presence

'Stop!' cried Octavia. 'I feel -- we aren't alone!'

I flashed the torch round in all the corners. I couldn't see anyone, but she cried out again. There was such fear in her voice that I stopped cold in my tracks.

[O's Spot Hidden (80%) - 59, succeeded.

Q: What does she find? unveil, glimpse.]

Then a half-dozen appendages, like crab claws at the end of long spindly arms, shot out from behind a machine. They seized Octavia, and pulled her bodily into a hidden passage.

[Her SAN check (0/1d6) was successful, but the creature's attack hit and it overpowered her (STR vs STR on the Resistance Table).]

The door to the passage was hidden too, but, having had some experience with the working of priest holes in our historic houses -- do you know Dr. Mowbray has turned one into a rather cheeky drinks cabinet! -- I easily found the catch. So I was able to follow.

What happened to Miss Seaward? You'll find that out presently! She left just days before your arrival. You'll be reunited soon enough. She can tell you the whole marvellous dénouement then. No I shouldn't worry, were I you. Everything is as it must be. What? No, don't be absurd! You see, they absolutely have to remove our brains and house them in these cylinders. Else we'd never survive the vacuum when they fly us through the blackness of space to distant Yuggoth...