The Quiet Apocalypse - Year 1

A series played using a mash-up of Apocalypse World and The Quiet Year. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

The Cast

Amiette (Brainer) dead eyes, smooth face, angular body

Chaplain (Gunlugger) cunning eyes, bony face, compact body

Peacock (Skinner) laughing eyes, beautiful face, toned body

Year 1

Cards: Four of Hearts, Three of Diamonds, Two of Clubs, Jack of Spades.

Spring

The disaster polycule roll into the Silverlake Confines, a holding ruled by Parson and Lavender and held in an uneasy truce with a roving gang called the Grey Wing. The Confines proper operate under strict laws of non-violence and disarmament, so Chaplain initially elects to wait in the small shantytown outside the holding's limits. She refuses to part with her gun collection under any circumstances. Meanwhile Peacock and Amiette (who prefer a concealed carry) case the streets of the holding proper. Peacock draws attention (his expensive coat hanging open to reveal an impressive physique adorned with spectacular tattoos) while Amiette appraises the holding...

Amiette: Read a Sitch (6)

Amiette: Open Brain (9)

They struggle to read the people - the marketplace is a bustling mass of bodies and words - but they are able to discern vague psychic impressions. The holding is a hotbed of intrigue and extremism, including at least two cults. Rejoining Chaplain outside, they discuss options; the holding is a powder keg in need of a spark. Or three sparks...

Summer

There's a trade fair coming up, Silverlake Confines will grow from trade hub to trade metropolis; trade will spill out of the main holding and its strict laws. In previous towns Chaplain had led with her arms dealing, Peacock modelling the goods to boost sales, and Amiette working their own creepy side gigs.

Peacock: Helps Chaplain (4)

Chaplain: Fast Talks a Crowd (3)

Sales are poor. Chaplain hasn't been able to restock lately, Peacock's flirting with the marks is distracting, and selling weapons in a pacifist town is a tough gig.

Amiette: Creepy Side Gigs (7)

Amiette has slightly better luck. A settlement built on merchant rivalries, ideological extremism, and secret cults is a morally ambiguous telepath's playground. Of course such a location is also full of very experienced schemers and deceivers, so getting one over on them can prove challenging.

Autumn

As the fair wraps up the trio watch the visiting traders pack up to leave, They speculate on the likelihood of the Grey Wing or other raiders taking out the caravans.

Chaplain: Read a Sitch (12)

A sniper rifle makes spotting approaching raiders easy, which is more than can be said for the caravan. The Grey Wing swoops in on the last merchants to leave, howling and weeping. They use their rifles sparingly and Chaplain notes they're deliberately shooting to wound only; she notes their weakness for future use. Interestingly, after the raid, the gang's leader stays behind while the others fall back into the wastes. The leader rides straight through the holding's open gates, heading for the palace...

Winter

A stranger arrives from out of the wastes. Dressed in robes suggestive of an adherent of the Children of the White Sign; an ecumenical order that seeks to encourage unity between all faiths and ideologies. He staggers into the shantytown, wheezing and clutching his side. Peacock crosses his path first and decides to ply him for information about the wider area, offering his company in exchange.

Peacock: Seduce or Manipulate (10)

The monk speaks freely of his journey to the Silverlake Confines and the various groups he's met along the way. He describes a growing coalition of ideological groups united through ecumenism and diplomacy. Amiette is intrigued, if they can learn the secrets of this alliance they could offset the fractious nature of the local psychosphere. They slip on their glove, arrange for Peacock to administer some proprietary compounds to the visitor, and then pays him a visit.

Amiette: Casual Brain Receptivity (7)

Amiette: Deep Brain Scan (5)

The probing starts well, they confirm the visitor is telling the truth and that the purpose of his visit to the Silverlake Confines is to open diplomatic relations. However, his mind resists all of Amiette's attempts to push deeper. Sadly, the strain is too much for the visitor and he dies, blood leaking from his eyes and nose.

Chaplain arranges for the body to be disposed of. Amiette ponders how this development will impact their studies. Peacock briefly misses the visitor, consoling himself with his daily workout and grooming routines.

Malachite and Mithril: Vault of the Sword Prince 2

 A game originally played using an off-the-cuff d20 system, but now converted to Maze Rabbits. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Against the black walls, a shrouded figure passes unseen, suspended on gossamer threads. Shade positions themselves where they can strike at the Prince. A roar of rage shatters the silence as Barb Barian charge into the room.

Reroll for initiative! Barb rolls 12. Shade rolls 12. Sword Prince rolls 11

Barb's "sledgehammaxe", a weapon of her own design and making, sweeps towards the Prince's chest...

Barb's sledgehammaxe against Sword Prince (3, miss)

...and sails past as the Prince sidesteps its path. However, this moves him into position for Shade, who readies a grappling line to attach to the large floating sword.

Skillz check. Target 70%. Outcome 27%

It latches into position and Shade readies themselves for the next step, hoping that Barb survives the Prince's attention until then.

Sword 1 against Barb rolls 11 (hit, -4 hp)

Sword 2 against Barb rolls 7 (miss)

Tanking check. Target 85%. Outcome 79% (half damage)

The Prince's blade cuts deep into Barb's shoulder. She screams pain and rage directly into his face but he doesn't flinch. She hauls her weapon and takes a second swing.

Barb's sledgehammaxe against Sword Prince (7, miss)

The Sword Prince evades and Shade sees their chance to strike. They wind in their line, bringing the sword blade with it, then release it like a pendulum.

Skillz check. Target 70%. Outcome 27%

Massive sword (-12 hp)

The pendulum blade strikes the Sword Prince and cleaves him in two. No blood flows, instead obsidian "flesh" crumbles away from iron "bones", The remains of the Sword Prince crash to the ground. The integrity of the dungeon begins to destabilise, so Shade and Barb flee back to the entrance and then out of the dungeon.

Malachite and Mithril: Vault of the Sword Prince 1

A game originally played using an off-the-cuff d20 system, but now converted to Maze Rabbits. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Bob Wizard, Dan Jun-Explora, and Mystic Marge materialise in the entrance of the Vault, refreshed from their period of renewal in the void. Dan's leather armour shines in the torch light, his longsword held at the ready. Marge's simple robes belie the powerful aura that hums through her. Bob's robes are iridescent and embroidered with arcane symbols and mystic patterns. The entrance is black-walled, high-ceilinged, edged with pillars like prison bars. A stifling atmosphere presses down on the group.

DC 20 Will save or be paralysed. Bob rolls 16. Dan rolls 9. Marge rolls 19.

All three are gripped by a paralysing malaise. Marge failed by the smallest margin, so has a chance to push it back.

Divine Intervention check. Target 82%. Outcome 49%

The divine flame within her causes her aura to flare with the light of hope. Marge is freed and her companions begin to stir. Reinvigorated, Bob aligns his sight with the etheric currents to try and discern a route into the dungeon proper.

Spellz check. Target 69%. Outcome 78%

The walls of iron-laced obsidian harden under his gaze, the shadows cast by the light of Marge's aura deepen. Marge steps closer and takes his hand, their individual forms of magic flowing together.

Divine Intervention check. Target 82%. Outcome 25%

Spellz check. Target 69%. Outcome 30%

Bob's eyes blaze with the same light as Marge's aura, the shadows flee and the walls themselves are burned away by his vision. A smoking tunnel stands open to the deeper dungeon. Dan readies his blade and leads the group into the next chamber.

[SWORD PRINCE: HD 3; AC 15; 2 swords +3 (1d6 + 2), ML 12]

In the centre of a hexagonal chamber, an iron sword hangs suspended in their air. Three meters long, the blade slowly turns on its point. Arches to the left and right are filled with inky darkness. Dan consults his collected wisdom to discover the sword's meaning.

DC 12 Wisdom check to intuit meaning. Dan rolls 12

He realises that the sword is somehow linked to the dungeon's heart. It's not the heart itself, but could be a mean to the heart's destruction. Bob and Marge lock eyes and telepathically agree to each try examining a different archway.

DC 10 Perception checks. Bob rolls 4. Marge rolls 14

Bob's mundane senses are unable to pierce the darkness, so he attempts to cast Truth Vision.

Spellz check. Target 69%. Outcome 60%

His eyes shimmer with a pale blue sheen and he perceives the inner truth of the chamber beyond the arch. He sees gears turning within gears; hours, weeks, years, generations of toil bearing fruit. He understands the Prince of the dungeon as having honed his martial gifts over endless aeons, the treasure of his vault being his mercenary earnings from a comparable period. He salivates at the prospect of all the treasure and the exotic arcane wonders it could purchase.

Across the room, Marge hears approaching footsteps coming from the night-black passage. She falls back to warn the others so they can prepare.

Roll for initiative! Bob rolls 4. Dan rolls 4. Marge rolls 18. Sword Prince rolls 19

The Sword Prince bursts from the archway, clad in obsidian plate, wielding a jagged, wrought iron sword in each hand. He leaps forwards and strikes.

Sword 1 against Bob rolls 6 (miss)

Sword 2 against Marge rolls 20 (hit, -7 hp)

Bob's Truth Sight allows him to track the blade and effortlessly avoid it. Marge begins to raise power within her aura, but is abruptly decapitated. Her aura's power is snuffed out in a moment. Bob and Dan recover quickly and go on the offensive. Dan's own blade flashes towards the Sword Prince, Bob's beard crackles with magical fury as he prepares to utter a Word of Power.

Dan's longsword against Prince rolls 4 (miss)

Bob's Spellz check. Target 69%. Outcome 21%

The Prince deflects Dan's blade with ease, behind his obsidian mask he remains silent. Bob, however, begins the first syllable of the Word of Discorporation.

1st Syllable, -3 hp, -3 AC

The Prince's armour cracks across his chest, deep fissures open revealing only darkness. He wordlessly raises his blades and prepares his second series of attacks.

Sword 1 against Bob rolls 10 (hit, -7 hp)

Sword 2 against Dan rolls 20 (hit, -9 hp)

Bob's utterance is silenced as an iron blade pierces his heart. A second blade cleanly bisects Dan from head to groin. The Sword Prince withdraws his blades and sheathes them. He considers the scene and then turns to leave the chamber.

To be continued...

Malachite and Mithril: Dead Passion's Grave 2

A game originally played using an off-the-cuff d20 system, but now converted to Maze Rabbits. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Dan Jun-Explora and Mystic Marge have engaged in battle with the guardian construct of Dead Passion's Grave.

Initiative roll 2.

The guardian lunges at Dan, its claws whirring.

Round 1

Three claw attacks against Dan: 4, 3, 3 (all miss).

Longsword against the Guardian: 6 (miss).

Round 2

Three claw attacks against Dan: 20, 7, 5 (1 hit, 5 hp).

After preliminary swipes from both sides, the guardian feints with two claws and disembowels Dan with the third.

Marge is conflicted - does she call upon the higher powers to save Dan or to slay the guardian? In a flash of inspiration she chooses a third option - destroy the Font of Passion!

Divine Intervention check. Target 82%. Outcome 45%

Marge's aura flares about her in a corona of brilliant light, before lancing out to pierce the dungeon's heart. Blood trickles from the Font as it cracks under the weight of the Divine Will bearing down on it. The guardian shrieks and lashes out with its claws.

Round 3

Three claw attacks against Marge: 16, 6, 4 (1 hit, 2 hp).

Barely able to approach her, the guardian flails its limbs. A single claw cuts deep into her side. Marge steels herself as she continues to pray.

DC 12 Fort save or bleed out. Marge rolls 1

Divine Intervention check. Target 82%. Outcome 75%

Marge's aura continues to cleanse the Font; the cracks widen, the blood pours out, and the reality of the dungeon beings to destabilise. Sadly, Marge's own blood is also rapidly flowing out of her. She commits her soul to the powers she serves and fully allows them to act through her.

DC 12 Fort save or bleed out. Marge rolls 18

Divine Intervention check. Target 82%. Outcome 86%

She realises that the power will ultimately consume her body and she instinctively limits it as best as she can. However, this allows the guardian another chance to strike.

Round 4

Three claw attacks against Marge: 20, 13, 3 (2 hits, 7 hp).

The guardian construct's claws cleanly bisect Mystic Marge at the waist. Her prayers fall silent as her face relaxes into a expression of serenity. Finally unencumbered from its mortal vessel, Marge's soul erupts in a holy blaze. The guardian construct disintegrates, it's matter blasted across the chamber. The Font of Passion implodes, forming a singularity which rapidly draws the dungeon into itself. The point of intersection ends and the world is saved.

In the void between worlds the souls of Mystic Marge, Dan Jun-Explora, and Bob Wizard drift. The next time the dungeon dimension tries to merge with ours, the three heroes will be ready.

Malachite and Mithril: Dead Passion's Grave 1

A game originally played using an off-the-cuff d20 system, but now converted to Maze Rabbits. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Bob Wizard and Dan Jun-Explora enter Dead Passion's Grave, an intersection of the dungeon dimension and this world. As they cross the threshold their lanterns dim slightly and a wave of lethargy passes over them.

DC 17 Will save or take an ongoing -1 malaise penalty to all d20 rolls. Dan rolls 9, Bob rolls 19.

Dan falters as the lingering echoes of past defeats saps his resolve. Bob has no regrets, his mind knows only how to seethe with barely contained power. With a mystic pass of his hand he attempts to brush away the curse that grips Dan.

Spellz check (each character has a special stat, roll under on 1d100 to pass). Target 60%. Outcome 93%

The magic here is powerful! Bob is unable to dispel it so sees no other path but that which lies ahead. He leads Dan across the chamber toward the arched passageway that beckons them to come deeper inside.

The narrow passage opens into a circular room with a fountain at its centre. The fountain resembles a woman pouring out a ewer, the water now just a muddy trickle. Two archways lead out of the chamber, one to the right and one straight ahead. Dan sits at the edge of the fountain while Bob sniffs the ether around both exits. He scents a blockage in the first passage so looks to the right. Before he gets close he's interrupted by a yell of surprise from Dan. The woman in the fountain has lowered her ewer and is reaching out for him.

DC 13 Reflex save or be grabbed. Dan rolls 19.

Dan evades the woman's grasp and draws his longsword. Bob whispers words of power as his eyes glow with a blue light. The woman remains on her pedestal and faces the pair. Her calm expression shifts to a mask of fear as she portends doom for all who take the righthand path.

DC 13 Will save or flee in terror. Dan rolls 3. Bob rolls 9.

The pair brick it and run shrieking hysterically back to the first room. They cower together in each other's arms for a time, and eventually manage to console each other enough that they feel able to continue. Returning to the fountain room, the woman in her original pose, the pair skirt the edge of the room to reach the far exit. At they cautiously proceed, Bob smells that blocked ether again. Dan's taking point and comes to a sudden halt. He reaches out a hand and feels the surface of an unseen barrier. He flexes and readies to try and push through it.

Gainz check. Target 22%. Outcome 57%

It resists him and he frowns at the clear use of sorcery. Bob's beard crackles with arcane power, neon yellow lightning sprays from his eyes...

Spells check. Target 60%. Outcome 94%

...and ricochets off in all directions!

DC 11 Reflex save or be struck by eldritch lightning. Dan rolls 17. Bob rolls 7.

Dan dives to safety, but Bob takes a lightning bolt to the face. A pile of fancy, if scorched, robes falls to the floor. Dan looks on in despair, his grief hiding the approach of another adventurer.

Mystic Marge is large and in charge. She wasn't shaken by the entrance, had no time for the confrontational water features, and is striding towards Dan. She channels her divine power to banish the ward.

Divine Intervention check. Target 82%. Outcome 64%.

The barrier is torn aside like gauze, Marge's aura cuts it aside before wrapping itself back around her. She takes a moment to compose himself and then reaches out a hand to comfort Dan. It's awkward, Marge is an instrument of celestial wrath, not a people person. They form up and press on into the dungeon.

They enter the chamber of the Font of Passion, the heart of the dungeon and their target. If they destroy this they can leave. As they take in the sight, they hear footsteps echoing from an alcove on the far side of the room. The nine-limbed, carapace-armoured, towering guardian construct crawls into the room.

[GUARDIAN CONSTRUCT: HD 2; AC 14; 3 claws +2 (1d6+2); ML 9]

Dan readies his longsword and squares off against the guardian. Marge holds back and appraises the situation. The guardian's mechanical voice box clicks and chitters a challenge.

To be continued...

Inquisition into the Unknown - Preludes

A series played using Dark Ages: Inquisitor. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Amelina's prelude: the streets of a small town

Concept: Reformed child thief

Order: Oculi Dei

Nature (Flaw) / Demeanour: Penitent (Masochism) / Bravo

She hides in the shadows of an alley, waiting for a drunken mark [Dexterity + Stealth; 7 dice; 3 successes]. As one stumbles past, she makes to reach for their purse [Dexterity + Legerdemain; 7 dice; 5 successes]. With a graceful hand she relieves her mark of the burden of their wealth as a robed figure watches on [Perception + Alertness; 8 dice; 3 successes]. Amelina notices her watcher and pauses to gauge their reaction. The figure looks on impassively before slipping away into the darkness.

She sits in the vestry of the small church, her book of simple Latin verse open before her [Intelligence + Linguistics (Latin); 4 dice; 1 success]. It is a struggle but she passably completes her studies. Later the teacher questions her knowledge of catechism [Intelligence + Theology; 3 dice; 2 successes]. Her answers please her teacher well enough.

Nigelle's prelude: the Murnau estate

Concept: Politically married in

Order: House Murnau

Nature (Flaw) / Demeanour: Dreamer (Escapism) / Gallant

He meets with his soon-to-be father-in-law to discuss his prospects as a suitor and potential member of the family [Charisma + Politics; 5 dice; 4 successes]. He makes a good impression with a mixture of charm and political acumen. He is invited to walk the grounds of the estate with his intended [Appearance + Etiquette; 6 dice; 0 successes]. He fails to impress; it's a very chilly day even for the autumn. He makes a desperate play for her affections to secure the match [Manipulation + Empathy; 4 dice, 3 successes]. A bold action that breaches protocol turns out to be the key to making a good impression.

He is taken through the family crypts and libraries with his mother-in-law. She quizzes him on aspects of historic accounts of the supernatural [Wits + Investigation; 4 dice; 3 successes]. He's learned well and she invites him to duel her [Dexterity + Melee; 4 dice; 0 successes]. She politely disarms him and demonstrates the shortcomings in his technique, he graciously accepts the critique and promises to train harder.

Sister Anna's prelude: the Convent of Saint Perpetua

Concept: Nihilist theologian

Order: Red Order

Nature (Flaw) / Demeanour: Rebel (Anarchism) / Judge

She attends mass in the convent's small chapel, her sisters sing their hymns around her. She joins her voice with theirs [Charisma + Expression; 4 dice; 1 successes]. She sings well enough but her heart isn't entirely in it. After the mass, in her seclusion, she contemplates scripture and tries to rationalise away her doubts [Intelligence + Theology; 8 dice; 4 successes]. She's able to console herself for the time being. Later that evening she is preparing the evening meal with another sister, taking time to listen to her sister's pious prattle [Wits + Empathy; 5 dice; 3 successes]. As little as she actually cares, she is able to mask her impatience.

She stands over the fallen witch and bends to pry the worn codex from her hands. Somehow the book is untouched by the flames that had consumed its owner [Courage; 4 dice; 1 success]. She is able to overcome her distaste and recover the text. Later that evening, still in the witch's hovel, she pores over the text [Perception + Occult; 6 dice; 3 successes]. She learns much and vows to uncover more mysteries...

Moonrise - Act 3

A series played using Anamnesis. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Shadow: The Moon (Anxiety, Illusion, Intuition) 

ACT 3: CUPS

SCENE 1: TWO OF CUPS

Shaken by the memories of accusations, I made haste along the boulevard. Hateful, treasonous, words echoed in my mind and my body reacted to their memory by taking flight from danger. My path was eventually blocked by a large pair of iron gates, an unfamiliar crest emblazoned across them. A featureless lock held them shut, though when my fingers made contact with it lines of sigils lit up and flowed across its surface. With a dry, rusted, creak the lock disengaged and the gates swung open. Lights alongside the path beyond lit up in pairs, moving forward from the gates to the palace ahead. As I walked along the path I heard the gates close and lock behind me but I was too distracted by the towering edifice before me to be concerned. In contrast with the buildings outside, the palace had rough stone walls fronted with colonnades and topped with cupolas. Alcoves vied for space with each other and within each was a extravagant figure, each face stirred distant memories that remained out of reach though I saw a clear family resemblance among them all. I pushed open the ornate doors, carved with bouquets of flowers and swooping birds, and entered the halls of the palace.

In contrast with the exterior, the interior's decadence had been violently rebuked. Frescoes were smashed from the walls and lay in piles of rubble, statues had been dismembered and scattered, heaps of broken furniture were piled as kindling. The palace had clearly been attacked but only inside, I wondered how this could have come to be as I crept through the chambers and passages of this once grand building. As I went I saw frequent signs of habitation post-assault; tapestries bundled into crude nest-like beds, the bones of small animals strewn across the floors of some rooms, and at every barred window were deeply gouged scratches. Eventually, at the far end of a vast ballroom, I found them. Close to a dozen withered, partially mummified, bodies huddled in a corner behind an overturned table. They held each other in their stiff arms, as if comforting each other in the face of some great tragedy. Or perhaps just the quiet end of a once great dynasty now fallen so low. I crouched beside my family and for what felt like forever I held their hands and mourned with them.

SCENE 2: SIX OF CUPS

I made my way up the vast central staircase as it wound it's way around the edges of the central hall, passages branching off and burrowing deeper into the vast mass of the palace. The weight of the cracked opulence now weighed on me as heavily as the sheer volume of stone and metal of its structure. One corridor in particular drew me along it, something about the way the shadows fell across the faded and torn tapestries perhaps? As I padded along the carpeted length my hand traced a line along the hall, my fingertips feeling the cracks and scratches that pitted its surface. I came to a halt in front of a large set of wooden doors which I felt certain barred the entrance to my personal chambers. The doors held firm despite the damage about them and I wondered if even in their madness and despair my family had spared this room out of some sense of respect. I pushed against the doors and they reluctantly gave way with a dry groan, revealing a room filled with dust, cobwebs, and discarded objects that clamoured for attention in my memory.

Louder than the rest was an iron orb resting atop a pedestal. It sat in a shaft of light from a high window, dust motes danced about the orb like an entourage, flickering away as my hand reached out to pick up the object. Much like the crown in the cave, the orb was wrought iron inlaid with gold. The gilded patterns formed whirls and spirals that my eyes struggled to follow, the effect was almost hypnotic. As I turned the orb over in my hands I saw that, as with the crown, the surface was marred with bloodstains. I froze the weight of the iron sphere threatening to slip from my hand as I recalled the moment I had pried it from my father's hand. My hands were awash with crimson though enough time had passed that they were now merely sticky as opposed to slick. The marks on the orb and crown were my own fingerprints, left when I stole them from the dead king's throne room.

SCENE 3: KNIGHT OF CUPS

The orb still in gripped tightly in my hand, I staggered across the room to the grand fireplace. It had stood cold for many years and held none of the comforting warmth and light it had once offered me. As I gazed into the ashes in the grate, I noticed that it was slightly askew and that there were the faintest finger marks in the ash around it. I knelt and with my free hand I brushed the ash away from the edges of the grate which I then slid aside. In an alcove beneath I saw an ornately carved wooden box. I knew that this box was unusual as unlike nearly every other object I apparently owned this was not carved with birds and flowers. Its surface was covered in geometric patterns of overlapping triangles and scattered, solid circles. As I ran my fingers over it I felt a shudder of anticipation and the box almost seemed to hum with the dormant power of forgotten meaning. I set the orb down beside me and used both hands to lift the box from the fireplace and rested it in my lap.

The lid slide softly aside under the gentlest of touches and heard the barest hint of a sigh as if an airtight seal had been broken. Inside the box I found a sheaf of papers covered in strange diagrams and scribbled marginalia. I recognised some of the notes as being in my own handwriting but had no direct memory of writing them. I spread the pages across the floor in front of the hearth and began the laborious process of deciphering them. They hinted at some kind of ritual or perhaps alchemical operation, a working that would present a body in a state of deathlike sleep and preserve it for generations. A partial page, apparently torn from a diary, weighed doubts about the safety of the procedure but ultimately dismissed them as being worthwhile in the face of brewing rebellion. I found no traces of concern for my family's safety, either in the pages or the embers of my memory.