An Other CT solo - Part 4: Travelling at last

Date : 056-1105

Düningen   0310   A799A9D-E   N   Hi In    Amber

Lin is shouldering her bag and walking down the Gate 436 umbilicus to board the Type-M passenger liner Schneewittchen. She looks out the portholes and marvels at the other ships attached to the station in rows above and below. She can recognise a subsidised merchant vessel or two, and what she assumes is a  scout ship, and a variety of huge bulk freighters, and if she closes her eyes she can picture how they flew here, how they docked with the station, and how they'll leave, and she can imagine herself at the helm. She's been playing this game in her head for the better part of two days. However the skill chip they put in her brain is supposed to work -- it's definitely working.

She had hoped she might find a job as a star pilot at the highport. Such naïveté! No one recruits crew here; there's too much paperwork. So she'd looked at the star charts and settled on Uizk as the most likely place to find a berth. She'd been lucky to find a ship going there, and luckier still that it hadn't filled up with high passengers, as her new life of modest means meant she only had a single voucher for a middle passage. And in the post-implant consultation, the doctors had advised her not to travel low passage for at least two months, as she'd almost certainly not wake up from it.

When she wasn't staring out the porthole of her (terribly cheap) hotel room, she was mostly asleep. The meds were just barely keeping the headaches and vertigo at bay. 

[week 1 of side effects from the implant: She needed to roll END or lower (5-): 9, fail. She took d6=6 hits to DEX (down to 5).

I rolled for ship availability this week using Zoser's Solo; 2 rolls were permitted as Düningen has a Class A starport; 2D=liner (21 passenger staterooms)

I also rolled for High (3D-2=8) and Middle (4D-2=11) passengers, so there was no chance of getting bumped.

-cr60 for minimal food & lodging

Q: Any significant encounters until departure? unlikely: O2 c1 - no, and...]

She's greeted by an open hatch at the end of the umbilicus. She steps into the ship's airlock and peeks in through the inner hatch to find a short passageway whose bare walls and whorling crimson carpeted floor look surprisingly like a hotel that boasts hourly rates. She calls a tentative 'hello?' and moments later a uniformed steward runs up to meet her.

"So sorry," says the youthful [d6=] woman glancing at chronometer, "boarding doesn't start until --oh!-- right now, I suppose."

Lin hands over her passage voucher and is escorted to her stateroom, given a brief explanation of where things are, and left promptly alone. She isn't sure what she'd really expected her stateroom to be like. Her entire understanding of passenger ships comes from those naff holo-series like "Love Aboard: Passion on the King Richard" and "Romance on the Singing Star" -- and those must be 200 standard years old at least. Come to think of it, this ship might be of a similar antiquity. And it could be cleaner. Still, the room is bigger than her first flat when she finally moved out on her own, so it should do for the next week.

[Q: Does she notice anyone/anything immediately interesting whilst boarding? unlikely: O2 C2 - no, and... 

+Event: Ambiguous event - Punish / Expectations]

When the ship finally puts off towards the jump point, the captain addresses the passengers -- the high passengers attend in person, the middle passengers watch on the viewscreens in their staterooms. [d6=] He might also be 200 standard years old, and is certainly not as dashing as the ones on the holos. And he hasn't time to finish his prepared speech before one of the bridge crew pulls him away to answer an emergency distress call.

The passengers are confined to their staterooms, but are soon informed that there is no cause for alarm; there is merely a bulk freighter requiring assistance with emergency repairs. Lin just goes back to sleep. She hopes the other passengers aren't going to kick off, but herself, she doesn't particularly mind.

Twenty hours later the ship continues towards the jump point. The announcement wakes Lin from her sleep, and quite literally leaps from the bed in exultation. This more than anything marks the break with her past life, and, more than that, she's wanted to go into space since she first learnt about the rabbit that lives on the moon of Terra. Even after her disappointment when she was old enough to understand that it was just a story. She glues her face to the tiny porthole in nervous anticipation. The captain begins the countdown over the intercom. The lights begin to dim. And then--

Lin comes to on the floor, bathed in sweat. She checks the digital wall clock. She'd only passed out for a minute or so. She looks up at the porthole, but it's already gone opaque. She cleans herself up and goes back to sleep.

[Ship encounter: bulk freighter 3000t, requires help with repair

To Avoid a Bad Reaction on the trip (Solo): 9+ due to the delay: 2D=9, ok

No malfunctions or misjump

Lin was released from hospital 1d6-1=5 days before she arrived at the highport, so the start of this journey sees the beginning of the 2nd week of RNA side effects: 2D=3, no damage this week, and can heal the earlier hits to DEX.

Onboard event (d66): Passenger is an inspector for the government who is authorized a tour of the ship.

Q: How big is the inspection team? (d6+1)x10=60%; 8 x .6 = 4.8 : 5 of the high passengers]

When Lin wakes up, she feels significantly less ropey, but still lines up all the pills she's got to take with her breakfast. The menu options on her screen are all unfamiliar, so in the spirit of adventure she makes her selections at random. Fifteen minutes later a panel opens to reveal a tray with compartments full of steaming hot... substances. There's blue and liquid-y, white and mostly viscous, and a yellowy lump of doughy solidity. None of it tastes bad, but also none of it tastes any different. At least there's a strong plastic cup of sweet tea to wash it down, and with a minimally metallic aftertaste. Oh dear, is this what homesickness tastes like?

Her culinary adventure is interrupted by another announcement form the captain. "As you may know," he lies, "Inspector Chagra from Düningen's Bureau of Standards is travelling with us on this voyage for a routine compliance check. She and her team will touring the vessel whist we're in jump, and she is anxious to meet all the passengers and crew. I'm sure you'll all want to welcome her as she..."

Lin pushes her half-finished tray back into the dispenser. What the texture couldn't do to rob her of her appetite, that announcement certainly has.

She hopes that leaving the 'do not disturb' indicator on at all times will pre-empt the inspector's visit, but the steward contacts her the next day (ship's time) to inform her that a meeting must be arranged. "It shouldn't take but five minutes. But you know what sticklers for compliance those Düningeners are!"

[reaction when meeting L 2D=12! very personable. maybe too personable!

Q: Does she suspect anything? unknown d6=1; O6 C5 - yes]

At the appointed hour, the door chimes. Lin mutes the sound on the vid-programme she'd been watching and fumbles for the door-open switch. The Inspector is there, in her crisply-pressed suit, followed by a ship's crewman and an aide of some sort, whose concealed pistol beneath a loose-fitting jacket Lin clocks at first glance. [Streetwise 9+: 2D+1=11]

"This is Lin Daiyu," says the aide, reading off a datapad, "Glunish citizenship."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Traveller Lin," says Inspector Chagra. "I trust you're enjoying your voyage."

"Yes, it's a very comfortable room."

"Such a long way from your home system. Do you travel often?"

"As often as I can."

"How wonderful! You must have seen so many ships."

"A fair few."

"Tell me, how do you think this one compares? I myself find the accommodations most comfortable."

"Not a bad size for business travel."

The aide is nosing round the stateroom and making notes on his datapad as the Inspector and Lin engage in even more absurd small-talk. But inwardly Lin's alarm sirens are screaming. No Düningen official is this chatty unless they're trying to trip you up. And she isn't going away! She's definitely suspicious of something. Maybe the way Lin carriers herself is too much of a giveaway. There's no way they could trace her old identity, but she's still got the old fear of their authority and its omnipresent reach. Extreme measures are required. Lin focusses on the nausea that hasn't truly abated since leaving hospital. She totters for a moment and catches herself on the vanity table. [needs to roll over END (6+) to pull this off: 2D=10] 

"Sorry, not feeling too well all of a sudd-- ITALbleeuuurgh..."

"My shoes!" shrieks the Inspector, and leaps back out into the corridor. She shouts at the steward, "have your medic check her out at once. At once! If this results in quarantine..."

The medic arrives, out of breath. Lin explains she had emergency surgery on Vinstreg for some sort of water-bourne parasite in her ear, and she's still in recovery, and shows her bag full of anti-nausea medication. The medic insists on a full examination, just to be safe. 

[10+ to diagnose actual cause of her 'illness' DM +medicine 2D+1=6, no

She needs an 8+ to sound convincing (medicine-0 from JoT): 2D=8, ok

Q: Any fallout? 50/50: O2 C3 - no, but...]

Despite the clean bill of health, Lin is confined to quarters for the rest of the journey. 

[After 3 days bed rest, she heals the 5 hits to DEX. The 3rd END roll for implant side effects comes due on the final day in jump: 2D=2, no damage.]

When the Schneewittchen is about to emerge from jumpspace, Lin is once again glued to the porthole. The external shutters slide back as the lights dim and the captain begins his countdown. She's just starting to understand why they say you shouldn't stare too long at the grey void of jumpspace when there's a flash of light and the sensation of being flung through a hole in spacetime seems to force the air from her lungs. But she's still upright when her vision clears and she can see the field of stars outside the ship. A successful end to her first jump.

next post: looking for a ship

An Other CT solo - Part 3: The last days of prisoner Gx-1067-6B5D85-H5c82-θ

Justice does not tarry on Düningen. The trials are over within six weeks. Garvin's and Iuroaa's are deemed to be in the public interest and broadcast live. Ling and Khamine are deemed to be minor players, so their proceedings are closed.

Khamine is a first-time offender, and is given clemency: 8 years hard labour in a deep-sea mine. The other three, plus a handful of Iuroaa's other underlings who survived the restaurant assault, are sentenced to death, as are most of the ones rounded up in the affair's wake.

Iuroaa, as a crime boss, needs to be an example. His execution is carried out with an excess of pomp, a key spectacle at a public holiday event. He is made to apologise for his crimes, warn other citizens of following in his wicked footsteps, and praise the wisdom of the ruling council in cleansing his insidious influence from the planet before facing the firing squad.

The rest of the executions are also broadcast live (on all networks, interrupting the scheduled programmes), but are to take place en masse in the prison. These are generally ignored by the populace at large save for certain colleagues, friends, and family of the accused who are required to attend.

. . .

The door opens to reveal two guards in full armour. "It's time." says one in a voice distorted into low, barely-human tones by the helmet speaker.

Ling rises wordlessly. They lead her through a series of security doors, and usher her into narrow room with a round conference table and a holographic view screen taking up most of the far wall. The screen displays the prison interior. Ling watches the firing squad assembling and taking position. Then, one by one, the first sextet of the condemned are led in. Each is shown in close-up. Their crimes scroll along the bottom of the image as they are read out in voice-over by the warden. At the end of each litany, the sentence of death is almost ritually confirmed.

The first two she only knows by reputation, the next three not at all, and watches only distractedly. The last one, however, arrests her total interest. Engrossed, she jumps when she hears the door slide open once more. Bureau Chief Amson walks in with his suit jacket over one shoulder. Only his ID badge shows he's a high-ranking agent in internal security. He dismisses the guards. Ling turns back towards the screen.

"I'm surprised you wanted to watch."

"It's not every day a girl gets to witness her own execution."

"I suppose not."

"Who is she?"

"Just another enemy of the state. Do you really want to know her name?"

"Probably not. I'm surprised how much she looks like me, is all."

"Honestly, with the shaved head, bruising, and six weeks of max-sec prison life, people all start to look the same."

"So, you're saying I'm not the first to get off this way."

"I've not made this offer to anyone before, but I'd be surprised if this is the first time it's happened."

"Shh, it's starting."

Ling isn't sure what she thought she'd feel, but the stark emptiness surprises her. And she'd forgotten how much she hated watching these things. But she looks straight on until the end. She owes her nameless substitute that much. When it's over, she turns back towards Amson, whom she's surprised to see engrossed in his datapad.

She clears her throat and he looks up, briefly startled.

"You don't watch them?"

"Not unless I have to attend. I find the whole experience distasteful. Necessary for planetary security, but distasteful nonetheless."

"Hm."

"How are you feeling?" Ling blanches at the question, and Amson hastily adds, "I mean, after the surgery. I wouldn't presume to ask about the other."

"Oh, um, fine, I guess. I can't wear my hair up for a while until the shaved patch grows back in a little, but other than the nausea, the side effects aren't so bad. Yet."

"I hear they can get pretty rough. We don't use implants any more in the service; the risks are too great. And the expense! I'm not surprised the Bureau authorised it, given what you had to offer us in return, but I have to admit to some consternation at your insistence on this particular reward."

"They offered money, a stack of high passages, even gold for some reason. But that stuff's all transitory. This is something in my head, that no one can take from me. This is mine."

"Provided it doesn't kill you."

"The doctors told me the risks. I've faced worse odds."

"I see. Well, Ms. Gong, if you're done here, your shuttle awaits."

"Good, let's go. But I suppose you shouldn't call me that. Ms. Gōng is dead, after all."

"Indeed."

"So who am I now?"

"Ms. Lin Daiyu."

"Wait-- seriously?"

"I checked your borrowing records from the precinct library. I thought you'd appreciate the literary nod. Now, this is where we part ways, Ms. Lin. I know you acted out of selfish reasons, but you've done our world a great service. Should you ever desire repatriation, look me up. We can use a woman of your talents."

. . .

She's the only passenger on the shuttle to highport. She spends most of the trip looking distractedly at her new identity dossier. Lin Daiyu, Homeworld: Glun. She's not heard of it. Checking the shuttle's rudimentary Library programme reveals it to be a miserable little backwater at least 10 parsecs Coreward of Düningen, right on the edge of the cluster. She'd probably best learn about it, though doubts it will come up that often in conversation.

She puts the datapad aside and looks through her new travel bag. There's a toiletry kit, basic working jumpsuits in neutral colours including one with a name tag sewn on (nice touch, that), and one extra set of bland civilian clothes, vaguely similar to the ones she's already wearing. A billfold contains Cr1000 in cash and a single Middle Passage voucher. Finally, there's an Imperial hardcopy passport, in a pocket of which is her newly minted Pilot's certification card, courtesy of the RNA skill implant she demanded of the Security Bureau as her guerdon. And filling the rest of the carry-all, also courtesy of the RNA implant, are bottle after bottle of prescription painkillers & anti-nausea meds. She chokes down one of each and studies her Pilot's licence again. The name staring up at her is just a character in a book, but the face is definitely her. Ansom found a flattering picture and everything. She decides that she'll just tell people she goes by her family name. It's close enough to Ling that she won't get confused by it, and anyways, lots of spacers just get called by their family names, don't they? She's sure they must. Well, she's a spacer now, and that's what she's going to do, so it must be right. Damn, those pain meds are strong.

The shuttle docks at the highport. She is met by a uniformed station worker, who escorts her through the surface departures concourse to the queue for the interstellar terminal. As she waits her turn, her eyes cannot help but drift over to the dour, armoured security troops watching the proceeding from behind their dark, featureless visors. A brief panic seizes her: what if they didn't erase her identity as promised? But if they'd wanted to kill her, they could have left her in prison. And not wasted the RNA implant. Still, she doesn't fully believe it until she presents her wrist to the scanner and the screen flashes up her new identity with the legend 'Registered Foreigner : Medical Visa expiring in 00:53:21'.

They scan her bag, search it manually, then finally stamp her Imperial passport (both physically and electronically). At last they wave her through into the interstellar concourse. As she walks forward the last few steps she stumbles. The security agent catches her by the arm to steady her, and notices her cheeks are wet with tears.

"Are you alright? Should I call for a medic?"

"No. No, I'm fine. Really. Just relieved, and a little overwhelmed. I'd been so afraid I was going to die here."

–~ Ende ~–

Notes

Thus concludes Ling/Lin's first adventure. As I mentioned briefly at the start, she was an entirely random PC with a random homeworld. I was initially disappointed when the dice put her on Düningen, having wanted to save it for a later adventure location, and I would have re-rolled it had I not been committed to another random start.

It was very obvious to me that her major goal would be getting offworld (admittedly one of my usual starters), but since the odds of ever returning once she left were minimal, I needed to have some sort of actual adventure on the world; it's definitely one of the most interesting worlds in the sandbox, just not if you're from there. So I decided to give her one last job to do for her boss (this was the first Thread in Mythic terms on the unpublished list. Her secondary goal (and the second Thread) was getting offworld.

As I had done with Ortance, I rolled up 3 life events:

• Fell in love, but your lover (1-2) died
• Profited from a dirty secret and owe any promotion or money to that secret.
• Made a deal with a crime-lord you couldn’t decline

I was going to keep them aside as merely sources of colour to use later. But then the last two gave me an idea, which tied in to wanting to get offworld, but needed a separate Thread of its own. I already knew she worked for organised crime just based on her rolled skills, but making a deal she couldn't decline made it sound like a life of crime was not, in fact, her own choice. Profiting from dirty secrets was also obvious just from her skills (streetwise & bribery). But the biggest dirty secret of all would be knowing who the crime boss was and how to find him (at Law Level 13, the police don't need to wait for 'solid evidence' to arrest a known criminal; they only delay when setting up the trap). So I added 'made a deal with planetary security' as the third thread and let that define when/how they decided to close the dragnet.

Originally, her reward was just going to be a new identity (and effective exile), but when I was absently looking at the Experience chapter in the rulebook I saw the suggestion of RNA Implants under the Alternatives heading at the end, which set my mind spinning. She was on one of the highest TL planets in the sandbox, so something crazy like this was certainly within reach, but there needed to be a reason that they weren't in common use.

RNA Skill Implant (TL14, Mcr1)

Confers a single skill at level-1, subject to the referee's approval. The implant cannot be used to raise a current skill level (except in cases of skill-0, though these skills are generally not offered), nor can it be used to acquire Jack of All Trades. The implant must be installed in a TL14+ hospital facility by a qualified surgeon (Medical-3, DEX 8+).

Recovery from the surgery involves a week's bed rest in hospital. A further 4 weeks are required for the implant to complete its work. During this time the skill is effectively level-0. The side effects during this period are severe headaches, dizziness, and nausea. Without the proper medications (costing Cr100), the subject will have their physical characteristics reduced to half their normal levels (round down). In addition, each week a throw of current END- is required or the subject will suffer 1D hits to a random characteristic (applied after the halving of characteristics for lack of medication). These hits are treated exactly as damage received in physical combat for purposes of incapacitation, but cannot be healed in any week the END throw was failed. Use of slow drug, fast drug, or freezing (low passage) during this period will cause the implant to fail (no skill levels retained) and provoke an immediate Crisis (see below).

Should the subject survive the first five weeks, the character check to see if the implanted information has been successfully integrated. A throw of 9+ is required (DM +2 for INT 10+) for the skill to increase to level-1 permanently. Failing this throw freezes the skill at level-0.

The first time the skill is used in a stressful situation may provoke a Crisis afterwards. If the character fails to throw lower than their END, they will begin to convulse. All uninjured physical characteristics fall to 1 immediately. Any at less than full are reduced to 0. Characters who remain conscious are still functionally incapacitated for 1Dx10 hours, after which time damage may be healed as normal.

I thought she'd want a spacer skill so she could become a proper Traveller, but I didn't necessarily think she'd get her first choice, so I rolled 1d6 on the Crew Salary Table to see what was on offer. I would have re-rolled Steward, as I can't see anyone producing an implant for that.


next post: a spacer's life

An Other CT solo - Part 2: The cost of doing business

Ling spends an aimless afternoon window shopping in the mall underneath the square. The tedium, rather than dulling her senses, sharpens her very real sense of irritation with Garvin's delays. And she has every intention of weaponising it. She's sat in the lobby by the waterfall when Garvin comes down from the office, all beaming smiles and glaring eyes. She slips her arm under his, and feels him tense.

"Come on, Garv, we're getting a taxi."

"You told me not to call for one."

"I did. We leave less of a trail if we flag one down."

"Oh. Right. I'm still paying, I assume..."

. . .

The 8th Lap is a large, mid-range pub two precincts over from the business zone. The clientele is mixed, if slightly more middle class. Sport fills screens in every room, and makes conversation challenging -- and eavesdropping even more so. Most importantly, for Cr20 (cash) in the right hands, the ID scanner will 'fail to register' your identichip when you run your wrist over the reader.

They leave their coats (soaking wet and faintly steaming) and their filter masks at the coat check, then descend into the throng to look for the source.

"Ah, there she is at the table under the glow-ivy." He pushes across the floor and Ling follows in his wake. The young woman perks up when she sees him coming. He introduces her as Khamine, and she smiles broadly at Ling from under a mass of tight curls, a smile Ling can't help but return. But when Khamine extends her hand in friendship, Ling's eyes grow suddenly wide at the sight of the heavy black 'visitor's cuff' encircling her wrist.

"Shit, Garv. You didn't tell me she's an offworlder."

Khamine's hand snaps back in embarrassment.

"Does it matter?" says Garvin. "Anyways, where d'you think she gets her connections?"

"Just go buy some drinks."

"I'm not ashamed, you know," says Khamine as Garvin disappears towards the bar. "And it comes off at the end of next season. I getting my permanent chips implanted."

"Wait-- you want to live here?"

"The pay's good, and you don't gotta live underground."

"But, the air--"

"There is some!"

"Oh. Right. And the always looking over your shoulder?"

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"I want to believe you -- you have no idea how much right now -- but I'm finding it a little difficult."

"Is this about the 'delays'?"

"Yes."

"There was a big shake-up at the highport. Things are going to take more time."

"I'm not interested in excuses."

"What excuses? I said at the start how long it would take. Why do you keep pushing?"

"I'm just after what Garvin promised to deliver."

"Deliver to who?"

"Look, you seem like a nice kid, so I'm going to tell you how this has to go down..."

[react=8, intrigued
bribery (13-), DMs -2 skill, +6 difficulty/danger of hurrying: 2D+4=13]

When Garvin returns with three pints, he's happy to find Khamine smiling. He's less happy to see Ling's smile, and has already guessed what it portends.

"Hiya, Garv. Whilst you were gone, Khamine and I had a very productive discussion. I know what your finder's fee amounted to, and what you passed on. I think she's been sorely under-valued. You're going to give her twice again what you already advanced, and she's going to use a nice chunk of that getting all the right people to look the other way."

[Q: Does he put up a fight? unlikely: O6 C3 - yes, but...]

"You expect me to just cough that up do you...? Never mind, don't answer that. I can dip into my savings."

"Good thinking, Garv. Now, she said she can come through in [d6=]two days. Shoot me a message when you have the goods and I'll tell you where we're meeting."

"What if something comes up? Another delay?"

"It doesn't bear thinking about. You don't want to know how long it took me to convince Iuroaa that I didn't need to bring back one of your fingers tonight."

. . .

Vijchel park is a sprawling public garden, which is to say a climate-controlled series of connected greenhouses maintained by the Grün-23 precinct's Civic Recreation Council. Ling has told Garvin to come find her by the war memorial [Violently / Military] in the northeastern quadrant. When he arrives he's surprised to find her leaving a stick of incense on the altar to the honoured dead (offering permits are available at the park's entrance). He waits to address her until she stands back from the altar.

"Never had you for the religious type."

"Call it nostalgia. Big Sister used to take me here when I was little. Then we'd go sit by the pond. Come on, it's lovely, I'll show you."

He follows her through the leafy paths and through a tunnel of purple vines. She pauses inside just long enough for him to pass her a datacrystal, which disappears at once into her pocket. They sit for a while on a bench beneath a dim ornamental streetlamp, looking out on the still, calm waters. Ling rebuffs every attempt at conversation. Garvin answers a pretend message on his commo, says his farewell, then scurries off out of the park. Ling stares silently at the water for a while longer before she gives in and makes her own call.

"Hey, Marzi, it's Ling... yeah, I'm done with my thing... cool, wanna meet up? ...Sounds great, I'm half starving... no, I'll come out your way... uh, prolly an hour?... Ciao."

It may have been the most banal coded exchange of all time, but Ling now knows where to go for her fateful meeting with Iuroaa himself. Hopefully she gets there before they shut the kitchen. She really ought to have eaten before she came to the park.

[Q: Where is the meeting? (1d6) 1-2 club, 3-4 restaurant, 5 residence, 6 warehouse; 4
Q: Genuine data? certain (2+): O5 C2 - yes, and...

Avoiding police checkpoints: roll LL+, DMs +2 INT A+, +2/lvl streetwise (Generous DMs as the boss chooses meeting locations carefully): 2D+5=14, ok]

Two maglevs and a taxi later, Ling is almost at the restaurant, an out-of-the-way Nivatrian eatery in the commercial ring of a residential district. The taxi drops her off in front of the HoloPlex, and she walks the last kilometre up the rain-slicked pavement. The bright, colourful neon glow contends with the harsh white of the air/raft headlights floating by as Ling threads her way through the din of the locals enjoying their evenings out, as they al shout excitedly through their filter masks to be heard. Even the police patrol she passes seem more interested in discussing last night's grav races with a flower-vendor than they do in fulfilling their ident-check quotas. A few dozen metres further and the street gives way to a pedestrianised area, thinning the crowd to a manageable density and muffling the shouted conversations to a faraway drone. She pauses for a minute and closes her eyes, and she can almost pretend she's back in her old neighbourhood, that the people are shouting in Tiānyǔ instead of Galaktisch, and she could just pop into Auntie's games parlour for a proper cuppa and a round of 3D Mah jong. She resolves to go back for one last visit before her fate catches up with her, but inwardly knows she'll never make the trip.

Finally at the restaurant. Ling isn't sure where in the Imperium Nivater is actually situated -- she's not 100% certain if it's a planet or a whole sector -- but the décor is unmistakable, all green-painted adobe in a rounded, almost cave-like style. The concièrge greets her with the usual cheery Nivatrian 'boami boami!', but his demeanour changes when she removes her breath mask. "Oh, Ling, hi. They're in back."

"Ta. Kitchen still open?"

"No, but I could do you a bread & tails."

"Thanks, Jorek."

Ling breezes past the entry scanner without presenting her wrist and heads past the bar. She slips under the chest-high 'closed for remodelling' banner and goes into the disused function room in the back wherein the crime boss is holding court.

Iuroaa's sitting alone behind a banquet table, absently picking at a plate of finger foods whilst flanked by two bodyguards, one of which is currently doubling as sommelier. The other whispers something in his ear as Ling enters. The boss is still listening to the two men standing before his table, and shaking his head dejectedly. Ling loiters by the back wall and quietly awaits to be summoned, hoping for all the world that the boss isn't seething by the time it's her turn.

He sends the two men abruptly away with a gesture. They bolt for one of the booths, pale and trembling. Iuroaa speaks a word to his bodyguard who tops up his wine. He swirls his glass round, staring deeply into the blood-red liquid, takes a sip then sets it down, still lost in thought for several minutes. Then he abruptly calls out, "Ling, my dear, so sorry to keep you waiting," in his soft yet gravelly voice, his entirely unaccented Galaktisch.

Not that people on Düningen don't speak with standard pronunciation, but his way of speaking combined with his entirely typical interstellar looks and mannerisms give the impression that Iuroaa could be from any world, or none. Ling once knew a guy who was impertinent enough to ask if he came from Fyoris. No one's seen that guy for a long time. Iuroaa is, of course, not his real name, just the name of a renowned 47th century Fyorisian poet he adopted as a nom de guerre.

[Q: Any last problems? unlikely: O3 C3 - no, but...
+Event: Move towards a thread - Proceedings / Exterior factors]

"Please tell me you have good news."

"I had a little peek in the taxi," she says as she places a datacrystal reader on the table. "It's all there."

"Finally, someone has brought me some g--"

There is muffled commotion outside the door, which bursts open before guns have had a chance to be drawn. "Here it comes," thinks Ling. She doesn't bother turning round to see. There's shouts and curses, then a brilliant ringing flash fills all of space and an unspeakable pressure slams her to the floor.

[surprise dice=5,1 (surprised)
6D damage (as RAM grenade, but non-lethal): 6D=20, to 002]

Ling is sliding into unconsciousness as she sees the armoured boots of police assault troopers run past her through the smoky haze...


next post: The scales of justice

An Other CT solo - Part 1: Business as usual

Düningen 0310  A799A9D-E  N  Hi In  Amber

Date: 014-1105 Imperial / Herbst 036.758 local

When Ling emerges from the maglev station up onto the street level, rain is lashing the Blau-46 business zone. Clutching her over-sized parcel wrapped in red pin-striped paper, she runs across the street through the stalled traffic to take shelter beneath the awning of an upmarket electronics shop. The raindrops sting her face and scalp; acidity levels must be up again. At least it keeps the air from leaving that greasy film on exposed skin, but it will leave a rash on her cheeks around the edges of her filter mask if she isn't careful. She should have checked the weather report.

After five minutes it's not letting up at all. She fumbles for the datapad in the inside pocket of her long grey overcoat but holding the parcel makes it impossible, so she nips into the shop to ask the bored clerk for the forecast.

"They're saying it won't let up until tomorrow at least. Monsoon season's starting early this year, I guess."

Ling sinks into her collar and braves the torrent. Three shops down she finds the entrance to an indoor market where she can buy a cheap rain hat to save her hair and a new packet of wrapping paper for her parcel, since the water has already begun eating through it. Then she heads out into the zone and threads her way through the damp and miserable crowds choking the pavement.

She pushes her way forward into the Mfunduplatz pedestrianised area where the crowd thins out to a manageable density, which would be a relief if it were not for the pair of cops right ahead in her path.

She's not technically out-of-bounds; there are no travel restrictions coded on her identichip for any civilian areas. She has no current Infraction Tags which would result in mandatory detention, nor is she carrying any prohibited materials. But the sodden cops also seem to have been caught short by the monsoon season, and will probably find any excuse to take it out on the first person who catches their attention.

Ling knows better than to change direction to avoid them, especially as her big stupid shiny parcel will draw their attention like fireworks outside a Sanctioned Ethnic Festival period. She instead casually alters her speed and trajectory so they nab the poor courier who paused to check their datapad for directions. She continues across the square to her destination, a modest 56-storey office building.

The building may not tower above the streets, but the marble foyer with its vast arched ceiling is an ostentatious display of wealth, as is the streaming water feature. Ling checks the gleaming iridium directory stela under the watchful gaze of building security, then re-wraps her parcel whilst she waits for a lift to arrive.

[Another Adventure

or is that, An Other Adventure?

Being in the mood again for some Classic Traveller, and wanting something to put on the blog, I started yet another adventure in my MTU sandbox (see previous post for broad details). I wanted to start with a single PC again, so followed more-or-less the procedure I did when rolling up Ortance, though I rolled really high INT so didn't have to swap any stats. Also, having had so much fun with my last character's sub-optimal career path, I chose the Other service on purpose. This time it was much more obvious that I had rolled up a career criminal. The background events I rolled and the random homeworld selection suggested two threads for her starting adventure: doing a job for her boss, and trying to finally get off her awful homeworld.

So, what is the crux of first adventure? Ling has 6 levels of non-combat skills, so I rolled against them:

1. JoT
2. streetwise
3. air/raft
4. electronics
5. bribery
6. bribery

d6=bribery

The opening paragraphs were mostly to paint a picture of life on her homeworld, a very important TL 14 Industrial world, which is classified as an Amber Zone due to its oppressively high Law Level (13).

Avoiding the police required some die rolling. I'd asked the Oracle,

Q: Is she carrying anything obviously illegal? 50/50: O2 C6 - no.
Q: What does she have? Beautifully / Bizarre (to be explained below)

As she doesn't normally visit this business district, I decided she would need to roll Law Level or better (13+) to avoid police harassment. DMs +streetwise, +2 for INT 11+: 2D+3=14, success

As much as I love the stories you get from Traveller character generation, I felt this adventure (and indeed, the entire campaign setting) would benefit from a gradual unfolding rather than long bouts of exposition. But her character sheet doesn't give anything away, so I'll put it with her portrait below, and confine myself to the single observation that, with bribery as her highest skill, she might be the most Traveller-esque character I've ever made.

Gōng Xǔrling

6B5D85 Age 38 Other 5 Terms
JOT-1, Streetwise-1, Air/raft-1, Electronics-1, Bribery-2, Auto pistol-1
Auto pistol
Cr1,000

This adventure was played almost entirely with just the main rulebook. For some reason I keep playing Traveller without using Mythic's scene structure. I think it's because there are so many tables to roll on (especially when I use Zozer's Solo, though I won't need that unless this adventure gets offworld).

Enough with the preliminaries, back to the adventure...]

Ling steps from the lift onto 31st floor, finding herself directly in the lobby of Fanton-Cao Mobilier Galactique, LIC. The lobby is tasteful yet entirely nondescript, much like the home furnishings sold by corporation it serves. Ling approaches the reception desk and addresses herself to the suspiciously ageless blonde woman behind it, holding up the freshly wrapped parcel with its neatly tied bow.

"I have a parcel for Mr. Enoscov."

"One moment, please. I'll call someone from the post room."

"No... it's a gift. I'd like to deliver it in person, if I may. He is in, isn't he?"

[Q: Is he in? likely: O5 C7 - yes]

"Of course. Whom shall I say is calling?"

"Actually, I was hoping it could be a surprise."

[This requires a Reaction Roll from the receptionist. DM -1 for being a High Population world. 2D-1=9, intrigued.]

"Of course." She turns to the identical if somehow younger-seeming woman behind her. "Tasria, before you go on your lunch, could you escort Ms...?"

"Ms. Gōng."

"Tasria, could you escort Ms. Gong to Garvin-- to Mr. Enoscov's office."

"Right away. Would you care to leave your coat here?"

"Please!"

The young woman takes Ling's still-dripping coat and hangs it on a hook in the corner above a discreet drain. She then leads her back to the internal lift and up one floor, then through the sea of cubicles to a corner office. The receptionist knocks on the door and opens it, but before she has a chance to announce the visitor Ling dashes in and says, "surprise!"

[Initial reaction 2D-1=7, neutral]

Mr. Enoscov does look legitimately surprised.

"I'll take it from here," says Ling to the receptionist, then closes the office door peremptorily.

"So... surprised?"

"I thought I told you never to come here." [UNE: hostile - resentment - knowledge]

"But Garvin, we've not spoken in ages. Maybe you told Iuroaa not to come here. Maybe he told you to mind your manners. Besides, don't you want your present?"

"You wrapped it? If you'd been stopped--"

"Oh, please, I'm not an amateur. I didn't seal the top until I got into the lift. So if the police had stopped me, they'd have seen I've nothing to hide. This piece isn't illegal. Just tacky."

"Philistine."

Hardly. I just don't happen to rate Chuuhrian coral-work. The gilding spoils the natural translucence." [rolling her EDU or lower (8-) to have valid opinion: 2D=5, ok]

"Hmpf. A matter of taste. But you shouldn't have brought it here."

"How else were we to find you? Showing up at your home isn't quite the message Iuroaa wanted to send. Not yet, if you hold up your end of the deal in a timely fashion."

[Q: What is his obstacle? Oppress / Inside
Q: Mission target? Hastily / Dull (a list of transit codes to get ships through customs)]

"It isn't that simple. I need time."

"Why?"

"Questions are being asked about things going missing. My source in LogOps is under a lot of pressure to account for every failed delivery. You've no idea the paperwork a misallocation creates. And with the threat of the auditor--"

"I don't care, Garv. This hideous golden tat is your payment, as promised, for services rendered. Now render your bloody services and I can leave you in peace with the beastly thing."

"I don't think you understand the complexities of transferring transit codes to a 3rd party. Let alone to a dozen or more."

"You could waste time explaining them to me, or you could give me what I came for."

"I'm telling you, I'm not the hold-up."

"Your source in LogOps is?"

"Exactly!"

"Garv, you're the one who said they could provide. Blaming your, er, subcontractor is a piss-poor excuse. And largely irrelevant."

"I can't give you what I don't have!"

"I'll just take this objet d'art back and tell Iuroaa the deal is off, then, shall I? I'm sure he'll chalk it up to experience."

"Really?"

"No."

"Maybe if you talk to [d6=]her..."

"Her, who?"

"My source."

"Fine. Where? And how soon?"

"I need to set up a meet."

"Make the call. I'll wait."


next post: delivering the goods

Traveller Sandbox

Life was too busy for too long and I completely lost my momentum with the Magic World write-ups. I hope to continue them in the autumn, but for now... have some more Traveller.

My Traveller Universe — or is it?

My first Traveller set came from a secondhand bookshop, some time in 1993/4 (I was at uni). It was the 1981 box set (the 3 LBBs) with a copy of Book 4: Mercenary, Double Adventure 3: Death Station / The Argon Gambit, and a photocopy of a White Dwarf article about Imperial Credits. I'd seen a handful of articles and ads in Dragon, and a few Megatraveller articles in the four issues of Challenge I'd gotten my hands on, but that's it.

My first adventures (solitaire, of course) were therefore set in my very own approximation of the Third Imperium setting. I rolled up a subsector, which I decided was part of the Spinward Marches (I knew the name but little else), and my newly-mustered out PCs set about exploring it in a scout ship. For the most part, the grand and sweeping aspects of the setting didn't matter much, but some things did need this context. Just about anything I needed I cribbed from either Asimov's Foundation (I'd read the first 3 books) or Dune (also the first three books, but primarily the David Lynch film).

In my early peregrinations through the internet I chanced upon some treasure troves of information in the form of fan-made Amber Zones and plain-text versions of the Library Data supplements typed out in full (this was at my uni's computer lab). Over the years I acquired a lot more Traveller books, and read a lot about the Official Traveller Universe (OTU), and played all my Traveller games (solo & group) there.

Some time ago I acquired physical copies of the two main German Traveller books from the 80s, The Regelbuch (Rulebook: The Traveller Book mixed with Starter Traveller) and Buch II, ITALSöldner, Scouts und Handelsprinzen (Mercenaries, Scouts and Merchant Princes, comprising Books 4-7, Special Supplements 1&2, plus the combat system from Azhanti High Lightning). I, of course, rolled up a pile of characters and a subsector or two and played out some solo adventures. The notes for these are all in German, as it seemed like a good way to practice my composition. For the adventures, I reverted to my old way of doing things, partly out of nostalgia, but partly to keep me from constantly looking up official translations of OTU concepts. And a lot of it I just made up as I went.

The first campaign set up a lot of what followed. After I rolled up the first subsector, I arbitrarily grouped systems together into polities and put amber zones at the sites where interstellar conflicts flared up. I was only using Buch I (so, LBB Books 1-3), so the setting was necessarily a 'small ship' universe. Even my naval campaign used Book 2 ships with High Guard PCs.

The technological basis uses standard LBB conventions. Socially, there is a distant Imperium with its concomitant nobility, but out on the fringes local stellar 'nations' hold sway. Very rarely the great ships of the emperor make an appearance -- these probably should use High Guard rules & sizes. No psionics or sentient aliens, but ruins of dead alien civilisations have been discovered elsewhere in space.

For tradition's sake as much as anything else, I'm using the 365-day Imperial calendar. To go with the German rules, I wanted the lingua franca to be futuristic space German, so the common tongue is called Galaktisch. Many people speak languages local to their world and/or ethnic enclave. Many more people speak only Galaktisch, though with a variety of local accents.

There is no subsector/sector-wide nobility outside the faraway Imperial core as the holdings are spread too thin. On the fringes, the ruler of a stellar 'nation' is usually the Fürst/Fürstin (lit. Prince/Princess, SOC F). Nobles of lesser rank administer worlds or parts of worlds. The 'nations' are therefore mostly principalities (in the literal sense of being ruled by a prince). They take their names from the ruler's Noble House, which in turn takes its name from / lends its name to the ruler's homeworld.

My Sandbox

My sandbox is in an (as yet un-named) sector on the coreward margin of the Imperium. The surrounding subsectors are sparely populated, and there are no systems within J-5 on any side (in case I want to do any deep space exploration adventures). It isn't quite the OTU's Island subsectors, but it is similarly self-contained. (I put the UWP data on a page here, mostly for my own easy reference. It won't be on the test.)

Internal politics are byzantine in their complexity, with some rulers being little more than figureheads. Because most of the noble houses and/or polities are in conflict with one another if not currently at war, a Sternenrat (Stellar Council) was founded on Ehembert, a pleasant (if dry) neutral planet. Most politicking takes place there; violence is strictly prohibited, though duelling is occasionally tolerated, and a formal Code Duello assures that duels may not be used as ersatz assassinations.

Situated at J-3 from Ehembert and J-2 from Gavf (an important, unaligned industrial world) is Wegpunkt (Waypoint), a space station orbiting a large brown dwarf. Wegpunkt exists both as a means of allowing governmental ships from the trailing polities to reach Ehembert without crossing through hostile territory and giving J-2 merchant ships a safe corridor through unaligned systems running Coreward to Rimward. The station contains a fuel refinery and a fleet of shuttles specially designed for skimming the turbulent atmosphere of the brown dwarf.

As usual, I got some very strong ideas about the setting and individual worlds as I was rolling it all up, but a lot of it is just basic data waiting for my adventurers to show up before I detail anything; and rather than witter on about the minutia of my setting, I will wait until my PCs' adventures make it important to write out any additional Library Data.

But I do have a few rules-related items of note, mostly concerning Law Levels.

The first is about bladed weapons. Marines training with the cutlass is embedded too deeply in Traveller's DNA to reject, so I'm keeping that in MTU. Nobles, however --and those who would be nobles, such naval officers especially-- always duel with daggers (like in Dune). A duel between nobles who are former marines may be fought with cutlasses at the challenged party's request. As the dagger is a symbol of nobility, nobles treat Law Level as [SOC-10] points lower for purposes of carrying bladed weapons. Thus, a Fürstin (SOC 15) would still be allowed to wear her dagger on a planet of LL 13, but no one else would. If she were an ex-marine as well, she could wear a cutlass on a planet of LL 12, but still would not be allowed any firearms.

The second item is that I increased a bunch of the Law Levels for various planets where the standard world creation procedure left them too low for my tastes. I've always thought that corporate worlds (Government type 1) should have much higher LLs than the 2D6-6 the rules prescribe. I left at least one as rolled, with LL 0 -- and made it a Red Zone due to whatever catastrophe caused such a breakdown. I similarly increased the LL of all the vacuum, insidious, and corrosive atmospheres to at least 7, as I always found it hard to justify letting people run round sealed environments with rifles slung on their shoulders (this eminently sensible idea actually comes from Star Frontiers).

Also, starports are owned by the planet they are built on/over, and have the same LL, with a minimum of 7 for orbital facilities. There's no extrality barrier, just customs checkpoints.

Adventures

Ultimately, my little setting is not noticably different to the OTU, and not at all different in the way I run my adventures. If I hadn't mentioned it, it would just seem like pocket empires or Imperial client states off in some far-flung sector. Its isolation makes it easier to treat as a self-contained unit, and the lack of non-imperial civilisations means everything has a certain inward focus. The adventure that shall follow was another completely random start, but more of that anon.

Magic World solo - Part XI - The swamp hag's lair

Tzingaal takes a single step towards the cave when a high-pitched scream nearly shatters her eardrum. The diminutive Fmurkhrez has lept forth from the iron band and hovers beside her in the air, beating its wings in frantic agitation.

"I cannot go in there!" shrieks the tiny demon. "The hag's placed wards over the threshhold."

"It's hardly surprising," sighs Mazgandrvehss. "I'll be glad of the company out here in any event. Well, madam, what are you waiting for? Get on with it."

Holding the lanthorn above her head, Tzingaal squares her shoulders and walks with much-feigned bravery under the stone lintel and into the cave. The entrance way was once lined with dressed stones, but centuries of roots pushing through have almost obscured them, so the tunnel appears to have been digged from the damp black soil. The lamplight reveals the insides of the tumulus but reluctantly, and the heavy smell of polluted earth threatens to steal the sorceress' breath.

Yet she creeps forward.

[Setup notes:

Q: Can/will/must the demon accompany her? unknown d6=5: O1 C2 - no, and... wards keep it outside

The cave will have 1d6+2=6rooms. There's a 1-in-6 chance for the Hag to be present in a room; she isn't necessarily home.

Rooms contents will be generated with my magic world skill challenge2.xlsx generator (link).]

Area 1
easy Nature interlinked with Physik -or- difficult Nature

A few steps further into the dark, and the ground dips slightly. A brackish pool fills the passage and extends much farther than Tzingaal could jump. The oily water gives off the overpowering cabbagey smell of decaying rodentia. The sorceress can smell something faintly acidic each time a bubble rises to the surface.

[Better of Nature or Physik (38%) or Nature/2 (27%), so going with the former: 04, special success: poisonous to the touch.]

She returns outside. "I need some branches. Oh, you're not going to help? Fine, I'll get them myself."

Having collected an armful, she returns to the passage and begins laying them out to form a makeshift walkway over the foul water, careful not to splash herself. She finds one armful wholly inadequate to the task, and makes several more forays outside past the quietly amused Mazgandrvehss.

[Nature roll (53%) 66, fail. So needs a Luck roll or branches will break under her weight. She also needs to roll Agility not to slip. Luck (90%) 05, success. Agility (55%): 54, barely succeeds.]

When she's confident the first part of her walkway is sound, she builds a second extension, and then a third. It's clumsy to walk upon, and she nearly loses her balance at several points, but in the end she has crossed to the other side.

Tzingaal must crouch as the next passage becomes lower and lower. No matter how low she stoops, the roots protruding from the ceiling brush against her hair like so many dangling worms. The sensation makes her skin crawl even after she's come into the first chamber, where she can at last stand straight. She unconsciously reaches up to brush the feeling away, and discovers with revulsion that there actually are worms in her hair, squirming round and burrowing down into her long red tresses.

She picks them all out and dashes them to the ground and after a final shudder takes stockof her surroundings.

Area 2
difficult Potions. If failed, Repair/Devise -20%

Wooden shelves made of disparate scraps have been set into the stone of the walls, supported by corroded iron spikes. Some of the sagging shelves hold minerals and bonesand and some are just beset with mould and mushrooms, but one holds a row of glass potion bottles, each labelled with hastily scrawled alchemical symbols.

Tzingaal suppresses her curiosity at the shelf of elixirs and passes by to the adjoining chamber -- she's not here to loot, after all!

[One of them is a Potion of Density, and weighs 5kg; picking it up would unbalance the shelf so that it would falls off its brackets]


Area 3
Hide reveals Move Quietly

The next chamber is either a storeroom or a rubbish tip, but Tzingaal is at pains to decide which. Nor has she time to make a choice, for a deep, heavy snuffling reaches her ears from the blackness of the exit passage, and shuffling, dragging footsteps begin to draw near. She shutters the lanthorn and conceals herself behind a roll of damp tapestries slouching against the wall.

[Hide (46%) - 33 succeeds]

Something slumps into the room in the dark. Tzingaal can hear its laboured breathing and the squelch of sickly flesh with each of its plodding, uneven footsteps. She's glad for the bitter smell of decaying fabric which almost covers the stench emanating from the unseen beast. After a seeming age, she hears it lumber past her towards the entrance.

She opens the shutter a sliver and slips out into the next passage. [MQ (46%) succeeds.]


Area 4
normal Listen reveals difficult Climb, which makes normal Search easier

She comes to a chamber of solid stone, cracked with the weight of years and the mound overhead, but still largely intact. More uneven shelves line the walls, though drier and without the fungal colonies of the ones she'd seen previously. More arresting, though, is the great door of gilded wood, carved all over in low relief with images of long-forgotten gods and their deeds. She tries the door gingerly, but finds it does not budge. She tries again with more force, and it moves inwards by a mere finger's breadth; it is locked tight. [Listen (31%) fails.]

She searches [46%] the shelves for a key [d%=18!] and finds one atop the crockery shelf under a dirty clay jug. And it fits the lock!

[Listen would have revealed a whisling hole in the rock; Climbing up to it would have been a better vantage point to see top shelf.]


Area 5
1d6=6, Hag present
Challenge: Trap (luckily not going to be poking about!)

A wave of sultry heat washes over Tzingaal as she pushes open the gilded door, and a dim light spills into the storeroom. The hag Gogoda is in the next chamber, busily adding powders and bits of rancid flesh to a bubbling cauldron. She is bent nearly double by the stoop in her back, but stands nearly as tall as Tzingaal despite it. Her pock-marked, grey-green skin is stretched taut over lumpy musculature and disended bones. Her groaning, tittering monologue ceases abruptly as she hears the door open and she turns to cast her baleful gaze over her uninvited guest.

Tzingaal is rooted to the spot with mortal dread as the hag limps over and sniffs at her like a piece of meat.

[UNE--
Conversation Mood: sociable
knowing - report - family]

"The Cabal sent you, didn't they? I wonder why...?"

"Because they were too craven to come themselves," says Tzingaal with a sudden burst of courage. "They sent me on this errand as expiation for betraying them."

"You're a sorceress, though. A full member, not just a lackey. Nor a thrall." [knowing - news - retainers]

"In truth I am -- was! I'd seen sense and left them. But one of them found me by chance."

"Bad luck. And now you're here."

"Now I'm here."

"But to what purpose?"

"They seek your answer on a conundrum which vexes them greatly. But--"

"My answer commands a great price." [scheming - negotiations - contacts]

"As well it should. But I would know other things than their answer, such as how to break the shackles binding me to the Cabal, or turn their works against them."

"Very well, I can help you to their undoing. But the price must be more terrible still."

"I hate them more than I fear you. Name your terms."

"I desire the cauldron of the necromancer, Gyvarr Yis."

* * *

Once Gogoda has outlined the substance of the task she is to perform, she gives Tzingaal a pair of wooden pattens for crossing the poison pool, from which her guardian beast has already cleared the makeshift walkway. As Tzingaal comes out into the overcast daylight, she finds Mazgandrvehss and the little demon engaged in an animated argument.

"So it's not just me, then," she says. The sorcerer is about to direct his ire against Tzingaal when the sight of the hag emerging behind her causes him to forget the power of speech. Gogoda ignores them all and and calls into the underbrush in a cooing yet grating tongue. A tiny black water snake slithers out of the weeds and waits expectantly, curled at her feet.

"This serpent shall be your guide to Gyvarr Yis's lair. Here," says the hag, pulling a copper ring over her knobby knuckles with some difficulty, "take this. It's the control ring for my pet knight. You may need his sword. He's past his prime, so I don't care if I get him back. Now off with you!"

Mazgandrvehss snaps to his feet and they wordlessly follow the the little snake off into the bog.

next post: the necromancers tower (when real life calms down and I have time to write it up...)

Magic World solo - Part X - Meeting the locals

Day 4

The trail deviates from the river as Imlatie leads the little band down it the following day, and plunges deep into a wooded area. They pause to examine an old way marker. The squat conical stone is half-sunken into the boggy soil. When Tzingaal scrapes the moss from it to read the legend, she finds it has been delierately defaced. Over the words it once bore are now incised three rude symbols. None in the party have ever seen the like (though the guides may not be entirely literate, so it's hard to say for certain). Imlatie says it doesn't matter, and directss them confidently down the right fork.

T8 : leechman village - random - expected
Encounter: deliberately / watery

The wood becomes murkier and the path broken, and at length opens into a wide clearing, more mire than ground. A dilapidated village rises from the muddy waters, all sagging roofs and mossy walkways. The inhabitants, terrible leech men, are hard at work digging canals to bring ever more water into their hamlet. The swollen, glistening creatures are too engrossed in their toil to notice the humans' arrival.

[Tzingaal makes a World Lore (53%) roll to know about them: 38, success.
Q: Are leechmen able to be treated with? 1d6=6, doubtful]

"That looks like thirsty work for them," whispers Tizngaal. Let's find another way past."

Her companions wordlessly concur.

[Easy (skillx2) Move Quietly rolls are needed to get away; all rolls succeed.]

"I never knew the leech men were such builders," says Mazgandrvehss when they are at a safe distance.

"They aren't," responds Imlatie. "That was once a human village."


T9 : random - toad men - none
location: angrily / natural

[1d6=5 toad men
reaction=neutral (rolled with RQ 2nd ed. reaction table
Q: What are they doing? passion / illness]

They find a safe path and continue without too great a detour, and see very few signs of life. At one point they come to a hot spring. Five toad men are lounging within it, soaking in its healing properties. When they see the humans coming, they shrink down into the effervescent water, leaving just five sets of bulbous eyes peering out. The humans pass by without incident.

[Oops, I did turn 9 twice... this must have been the end of a session, and I looked too far up to find where I'd left off at the start of the next.]


T9 bis : random - special - none
Location: ferociously / horrible - corpses torn asunder
Encounter: This Is Bad, 2nd roll = 1d6=3 Leech men

Continuing on past the sacred spring is a long, wet slog. Tzingaals spirits seem as damp as her dress, or perhaps as sunken as the pools of water squelching in the bottom of her boots with every step. Everything is dull and sodden and grey -- until a great wave of crimson assaults her senses.

Strewn amongst the puddles and contorted roots uncountable toad men and parts of toad men drip blood onto the ground. A few leech men, definitely in the minority, have also met their terrible end here, leaking colourless ichor from their wounds. But Tzingaal watches in stark, silent horror as three of the leech men rise up and plod towards her, dead arms outstretched.

leechmen zombies

     A  B  C

STR 13 14 21

CON 19  9 20

SIZ 12 12  7

DEX 11 10  4

HP  16 11 14

MV 5

Bite 35% 1D8+suction (1D6 STR)

Only take 1 damage from Impaling weapons

[Round 1]
Weapons are hastily readied as the leech-zombies shuffle forward. Tzingaal and Mazgandrvehss begin sorcerous invocations.

[T casts Sorcerer's Strength +6 on I; M casts Fury on G. The fight was, as always, played in strict initiative order, but will be narrated in a more readable fashion.]

[Round 2]
Gosk engages one of the horrors with his spear, and manages to stick it for a shallow, leaking wound [hits A for 1 damage to 15hp]. The insensate thing lurches forward and attaches its gaping maw to his arm [dodge fails]. Trying to pull free shreds muscle tissue and cracks bone, but there is little pain as Mazgandrvehss' sorcery takes hold of him, the swelling of sheer battle-lust pushing aside all thought and all feeling. He makes another stab at the creature with only his off hand, but it's too clumsy to inflict much damage. [Leech-zombie's attack roll was 01, critical hit: 8 damage gave Gosk a major wound (arm mutilated) and -1 STR. The Fury spell gives him 2 attacks/round, but -30% defence. His 2nd attack hit for 1 damage.]

Imlatie feels Tzingaal's magic wash over her, giving her supernatural strength [and +1d4 damage bonus], but is too revolted by the sight of her opponent's suppurating mouth up close to land a credible blow with her small sword [miss].

The sorceress is meanwhile casting a similar incantation on her sorcerous colleague, as he enters the fray with his quarterstaff. The ungainly wizard trips over a root (charitably) or perhaps his own feet (probably) and lands face down in the muck [00, fumble], his staff planted like a tent pole beside him. One of the shambling corpses falls upon him, attaching to his shoulder [4 damage].

[Round 3]
Gosk stabs the thing on his arm over and over, but it seems almost futile [2 damage total, to 12hp]. He feels his blood draining away into the voracious sucking mouth [-6 STR].

Imlatie and her opponent make several swings at one another, none of which connect.

Mazgandrvehss, thanks wholly to Tzingaal's spell, pushes the ravenous fiend off himself. [STR vs. STR on the resistance table (6+9=)15 vs 21 gave him a 20% chance instead of 0%] Tzingaal plucks up his staff. As the creature staggers back from the sorcerer, she raps it soundly over the head, leaving the side a pulpy mess [5 damage to 9hp].

[Rounds 4-5]
Gosk continues his struggle with the creature on his arm as he grows ever weaker [hits once for 1dmg; loses 5 STR], and in his confusion breaks his spear against a low-hanging bough [fumble].

Imlatie seems unable to land a telling blow, but she avoids the grasping oily hands.

Tzingaal slams her opponent directly in the midsection, bursting the rotten abdomen and showering her skirts in reeking blackish fluid [7 damage, 2hp left].

Mazgandrvehss scrambles to his feet, and immediately uses his healing magics on his shoulder [+2hp].

[Round 6]
Too weak to use his spear, Gosk drops it and draws his short sword, but after one or two feeble thrusts, he drops dead of blood loss [-5 STR to 0].

Imlatie stabs her foe. It drops to its knees, seemingly vanquished, but then lurches at her and grabs her leg, biting down on her thigh [6-0=6 damage to 4hp].

Tzingaal's eyes are watering from the stench of the putrefaction, and she can't see well enough to fight effectually [miss].

[Round 7]
Imlatie shoves the creature off her leg [STR vs STR succeeds] as Mazgandrvehss starts to run. Tzingaal slams her opponent to the ground with a mighty swing of the staff, and it seems to lose cohesion, deflating and leaking the rest of its brackish insides into the mud. [4 damage destroys it]

[Round 8]
Tzingaal and Imlatie run after Mazgandrvehss, hoping to leave the two remaining corpse-things behind. But driven by basest instincts, they plod ceaselessly after their fleeing quarry.

[For the Pursuit, the zombies needed to pit their MOV (5) against the humans' (8): 35% to catch up. T 58, she escapes; I 04, caught. Its attack roll is a Special success versus Imlatie's (regular) success on her Dodge equates to a standard hit: 8 damage kills her.]

Tzingaal is just catching up to Mazgandrvehss when they hear Imlatie's screams abruptly cease.


T10 : toad man village - special - none
Encounter: Barely There

The night is cold and miserable and, seeing that following the tragedy neither Tzingaal nor Mazgandrvehss feel particularly in the mood for squabbling, silent. They collapse against the trunk of a great tree and fall into exhausted, dreamless sleep as the little demon watches over them.

The tents may have been lost with their fallen comrades, but at least they each carried their own provisions. After a subdued and joyless breaking of their fast, they once again set off through the murk and muck.

They soon come to a village of toad men. Their reed huts have been torn asunder and many bodies litter the village square. The two sorcerers draw their weapons, and each has a spell ready on their lips, should any of these corpses rise to attack them.

[1d6=4 toad men remain
Q: Do the toad men approach? 50/50 (4+): O1 C4 - no, but...

PCs may notice them : T Search 47% - d%=22, success
M 46% - 52 fail]

"Hey, look over there!" exclaims Tzingaal. Mazgandrvehss looks over to see four toad men approaching in an attitude of supplication. [reaction is kindly/small]

"Please, humans, don't hurt us! We will give you all the root-bulbs we have to eat!"

"Be not afraid. We seek only the swamp witch's cave. Please, can you show us the correct path to take?"

The toad man points to the north east of the village with a tremulous hand, but whether from fear of the strangers or the witch, it is impossible to tell. The magicians trudge on, leaving the pathetic creatures their provender.


T11 : special - random - none
Location: Remove Element (quicksand)
Encounter: interestingly/ancient

[Remove Element in the Location field means to re-roll and cross the element off the list after using it in this scene]

About half a league past the village, an obelisk of polished black stone rises from the muck, looking out-of-place against all the twisted boughs and deep green foliage. Uneven red lines run down one face of it, evidently an inscription. As the two sorcerers approach, pulled on by their overwhelming curiosity, Mazgandrvehss feels his foot begin to sink down deep into the mud, and pulls back in sudden terror. "Quicksand!" he gasps, stopping the sorceress too in her tracks. They both retreat a few careful steps until they are sure they stand on solid earth. [M's Sense (46%) roll succeeded]

[Q: Can get over to pillar round the quicksand? Unlikely (5+): P4 C3 - no, but...]

"There doesn't look to be any way to get closer," sighs Tzingaal.

"I don't suppose there is. A pity, I'd hoped for a look at the inscription."

"Just feel the magic radiating from it! There must be a way..."

"Would that there were! Such obvious power -- and probable danger. Perhaps it's better that it be inaccessible."

"Unless..."

"Unless what? Have you an idea?"

"I do, in fact. But it will require you to call the little demon forth."

"Nice try. You'd have it destroyed by any danger the obelisk might hold."

"I would not. The though did cross my mind, but I assure you, I find its presence here a comfort rather than a burden."

"And well you should! Very well then: Fmurkhrez, I command you to come forth."

A thin wisp of smoke issues from the iron collar about Tzingaal's neck, then slowly coalesces into the form of the diminutive demon.

"I bid you attend to Tzingaal's entreaty. You may do as she asks, or not. I shan't interfere."

"Dearest, sweetest Fmurkhrez," begins the sorceress, "you see that obelisk over there? We two are so awfully curious about the inscription. Would you be a dear and fly over to see what it says?"

The demon's refusal is laced with obscenities so foul that sailors might be struck dead at the sound of it.

[She failed her Fast Talk roll by a significant margin.]


T12 : cave - random - expected
Encounter: boldly/defeated

They press onward, and whether the swamp hag's impious powers have actually suffused the land surrounding her lair with eldritch energies, or if it be merely fear of her terrible might that causes the sorcerers' skin to creep, they are more than uncommonly quiet as they tread ever closer to her demense.

Gogoda's cave is beneath a tall, conical tumulus. A rough stone lintel defines the entrance; the hag's residence must once have been some ancient chieftain's tomb.

A knight sits in muck outside cave, his expression vacant, his plate armour dull and rusting. Mazgandrvehss' entreaties to the man elict no response, no does his somewhat ungentle prodding with the end of his iron-shod staff.

Tzingaal calls into the cave mouth, but her voice is swallowed up by the darkness within.

"I suppose we'll have to go in further to see if she's here," says Tzingaal, struggling to light her lanthorn.

"No no," says Mazgandrvehss, "I'm waiting right here. This is your penance."

next post: into the cave