Tag Archives: horror

NaNoWriMo with a TTRPG Twist: Day 13

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Happy Monday, fellow adventurers and GMs! I’ve been looking forward to sharing this one, but held off for the 13th…which, in hindsight, doesn’t make as much sense as using this on the 5th or saving it for the 20th. That’ll make sense in a couple of sentences, I promise.

This is another one that you can run in just about any system you’d like with some tinkering and retooling, but it was originally used for one of my favorite, most chaotic 5E one-shots and then for an incredible mini-campaign of Scum and Villainy that’s still waiting to see completion in a third session (complete with a beach episode that absolutely was not a beach episode – surprise!). And so without further delay: I present Charles Edward Cheddar’s Fright Nights (version 1; yeah, there’ll be a second post of this and I’m very not sorry)! (Why yes, this is absolutely a WishDotCom level knock-off of a wildly popular video game series turned major motion picture turned endless line of Funko Pop figurines.)

Charles Edward Cheddar’s Fright Nights

Congratulations on your adventuring party’s new and deeply enriching career path as the night time security guards at a long shut-down but never forgotten tavern and child-friendly gambling facility, Charles Edward Cheddar’s! It’s not enriching in the sense that it will pay well, and the hours aren’t terrific, but it’s a chance to help preserve those fond childhood memories of fun times!

Upon arriving, your party is greeted by the daytime guard, who seemed more than eager to head home—increasingly so as the sun moved closer to the horizon. He explained that things are pretty self-explanatory: keep trespassers out, tidy up any odd messes, don’t disturb Charles Edward Cheddar and his Fun Time Pizza Pals because the animatronics tended to get a little squirrels after what used to be normal business hours. Sure, the owner could have decommissioned them when the place closed down but they chose to keep them around for sentimental reasons.

A little detail omitted from the job listing: your party is locked in until your shift has ended in the morning.

There are odds and ends to be tidied up, a convenient security room from which the whole facility can be monitored…or so it seems, anyway…and a well-stocked snack bar.

However, even as the night is young things started getting interesting. Charles Edward Cheddar and friends seem to have noticed they aren’t alone, and there’s no party scheduled. Can your party survive the night? Or will they find themselves having been made into backup members of Charles Edward Cheddar’s band?

GM Tools and Tips

Charles Edward Cheddar’s Fright Nights is absolutely meant to be the cheesiest, campiest, goofiest TTRPG tribute to Five Nights at Freddy’s (sans the lore depth) possible. It’s terrific fun to run, even if players go into it expecting the FNAF experience, and lends to a lot of fun, silly moments but also to some solid tension building (and, if you play your cards right, the closest you’ll get to a jumpscare in a TTRPG—remember, Session 0 and safety tools are key as always).

This works well in Forged in the Dark games as having clocks for the animatronics antics (their hostility ramping up, their approach to hunting the party, etc. ) as well as how much time is left in the overnight shift, but this plays out just as nicely as a more exploration and RP-heavy 5E game.

Some animatronic suggestions:

Charles Edward Cheddar – the headliner, and definitely in no way a direct rip-off of a real world analogue of near-identical name, Charles is the star of the show. He runs the tavern and is always aware of what’s going on, but does not immediately intervene. He lets his friends investigate first, and then as nights go on he becomes more active (and dangerous).

Pizza Paulette/Pizzapotamus – Pizza Paulette is more of an analogue to Chica from the FNAF games, while Pizzapotamus is…well, a hippopotamus version of such an animatronic. Either approach: this character sure loves all things pizza. Not just the taste and smell of it, but sharing facts about how it’s made, why it’s so darn good, and how well your adventuring party might taste as toppings if you aren’t careful. One of the first animatronics to seek out the adventuring party, often the least subtle, and definitely quick to cause a fright. In my 5E one-shot, Pizza Paulette made it into the security office only to have their face melted off by magic before getting absolutely wrecked.

Carl E Calzone – The surlier cousin of Pizza Paulette/Pizzapotamus and chef of ill-repute, Carl Calzone often keeps to the kitchen and tavern dining areas to watch out for any who might be there to steal his revolutionary recipes. He’s the only one of the animatronics who can be bargained with as, despite what all materials surrounding the dilapidated establishment indicate, he’s “cool with taking bribes”.

The Breadstick Bunch – Once a collection of delightful, sentient foodstuffs, The Breadstick Bunch has gone stale and stabby. They travel in a pack, assessing where the party is and who can be tricked into going off on their own before splitting up to corner and make quick work of them. They are cautious around standing water, not only for their circuitry but because the majority of their bodies are made up of actual breadsticks. Please note that per company policy any penicillin acquired from The Breadstick Bunch is considered an additional dipping sauce, the cost of which will be deducted from your wages.

Shroomy Sal – The bassist of the band and most likely to start a tavern brawl at children’s birthday parties, Sal was often conveniently switched off during Charles Edward Cheddar’s prime. Now online all the time, they are ready to make some noise and break some bones. Sal will often notice the players before they notice Sal and will work to quickly close the gap before dealing as serious damage as possible.

Bits ‘n Bolts – Not an official animatronic, this amalgamation of decommissioned band mates from eras long past has awakened and is out for revenge on a world that took its home—Charles Edward Cheddar’s—from it. Bits prefers stealth and subterfuge, hiding just out of sight in the shadows before luring players into potentially dangerous situations, and often creeps through the ventilation system. Fun fact: this was the one I managed the closest thing to a real jumpscare with in 5E, a personal victory I will celebrate whenever possible.

The above are absolutely loose guidelines and I encourage you to come up with your own pals for Charles Edward Cheddar. Be cheesy, turn up the creepy factor, and ham it up (with or without pineapple). As always; take care; good luck and godspeed!

NaNoWriMo with a TTRPG Twist: Day 12

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What Slumbers Deep Beneath the Ice

Warmth and life has gradually begun to return to the realm after an especially bitter, cold, dark winter, and with the warmth your adventuring party too finds themselves returning to some of their familiar haunts that were less hospitable in the frigid days.

The scenic village of Umbraport is one of the party’s first stops. Known for its bustling marketplace, love of adventurers, and frequent feasts, your adventuring party finds themselves greeted by a very different tone than they are used to here. Shops closed early or indefinitely, and wary glances from between shutters are the closest the party receives to a greeting until finally a friendly merchant spots them and ushers them into his home.

Umbradeep Lake, he informs them, has been frozen for much of recorded history. It’s a lake so steeped in legend, largely due to its unfathomable depth. No two sources seem to agree on the specifics, but it’s commonly accepted that Umbradeep Lake’s depths are greater than the height of the highest mountains in the realm.

Other legends tell of a horrific creature from ages past that was sealed away beneath the lakes depths by the never-melting ice Umbradeep was famous for having year-round.

The ice, the merchant notes, had begun to thaw, and as it did the villagers noticed strange and worrying happenings. The dark of night seems to arrive before the sun has fully set. Odd shadows and strange sounds prowl the alleys at night, often leaving deep claw marks in walls and cobblestones.

Far beneath the melting ice, or so villagers say, something seems to have begun to awaken.

The ice is still quick dense, but your party feels a sense of incredible unease upon visiting. Will they find a way to stop the ice from melting? Are they ready to confront whatever ancient darkness lurks beneath its surface? Can Umbraport be saved, or is it doomed to be lost to shadow?

GM Tools and Tips

Ease into the adventure with emphasis on everything having warmed and woken from the especially bitter cold that has finally left the world. Give the players a trail of breadcrumbs leading them to Umbraport but allow it to happen organically. If you’re running this in a system that utilizes clocks, now’s a great time to start counting down a few regarding the lake thawing, the strange happenings in town, and so on.

While this is absolutely a more horror flavored bit of fantasy adventuring, please also remember to keep it within the parameters of what’s safe set forth during Session 0 (and this is a great time to remind myself I’ve been meaning to do a post about Session 0 at some point so maybe I’ll sprinkle that in as a bonus post one of these days).

Save the day, stop the thaw, or face the darkness in the depths of Umbradeep. Whatever happens? Good luck and godspeed!

NaNoWriMo with a TTRPG Twist: Day 3

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The Glass Expanse + Glass Menagerie

Content Warning: Includes horror elements including body horror, loss of self/identity, and death

Your adventurers braved their way across the vast, inhospitable desert and found themselves at a glass city. It is incredibly difficult to traverse due to every surface reflecting its surroundings. Should the adventurers make their way to the heart of the city they would find themselves at a seemingly impossible palace – one that sprang forth from one piece of glass.

The adventurers will be greeted and rushed inside by curious creatures with humanoid bodies with ornate mirrors where their heads should be. When these creatures face anyone their mirror-faces instead reflect the face of the adventurers who are interacting with them with perfect clarity.

The adventurers are introduced to the King of this Castle – Lord Claritas Duplicitous – who is eager to wine and dine with them. Everything went well until it wasn’t going well. Can the adventurers brave the Glass Menagerie and escape with the requested wish or will they be doomed to join the mirrored halls and walls for eternity?

GM Tools and Tips

The Glass Expanse and Glass Menagerie – the denizens of the Expanse – act as a foil to the nature of the desert. They should always come across as a twisted, warped version of nature, always imitating it but never quite achieving their goals of coming across as alive. This should all have a very Uncanny Valley feel especially as the players make their way into the palace.

The Menagerie itself, especially Lord Claritas Duplicitous, operate by gradually picking up and mimicking the behaviors of living things. This can be best demonstrated by having an NPC or NPCs. After an extended period of time taking on a character’s traits, the Glass Menagerie NPC steals that character’s face and that character’s face becomes a mirror. In games where Sanity is a factor, this can be utilized. Otherwise, this works well as a Curse.

Battle with these NPCs works best when they are actively avoiding combat while trying to steal the faces of their foes. Should a character whose face has been taken become damaged they must then roll to see how badly the mirror is damaged. Should the mirror break that can either be instant death, but also has potential for the character to be transported to a mirrored version of the world beyond the veil (which, of course, allows for them to be saved).

Upon defeating Lord Claritas Duplicitous (whether in combat or by way of finding the fallen star), the Glass Expanse explodes into a fine, glittering powder and gradually disappears towards the sky.

What comes next is up to you as the GM and the table. As always: take care; good luck and godspeed!

Follow the Ashes – Rivalry Reunion

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Cas blinked. “Family?”

Gavin, or rather the holo-Gavin, chuckled. “Not blood related, mind you. We both initially reported to Bertie, and he often mocked us for behaving like siblings. He wasn’t wrong, I’ll concede.”

“I wish I could remember, but details are still fuzzy,” Cas replied, a frown tugging at the edges of her lips.

Holo-Gavin shook his head. “Probably some of my best work,” he said. “We all had to play our roles, after all, and for your journey to get here to succeed you couldn’t remember anything. Perhaps I did too well on the memory block, though, but it seems you’ve worked past it. Mostly.”

Cas winced as memories flew through her thoughts like a highlight reel. Events zipped past too quickly to process, and yet the details were clear enough.

“This is a suicide mission, isn’t it?” Cas said.

Holo-Gavin rolled his eyes. “You certainly weren’t this dour when you figured out how to power the rings,” he said. “Until you found out the cost the world paid for customized utopia living spaces, anyway. There was big money in it.”

Cas began to pace, and Holo-Gavin mirrored her. She stopped occasionally, a hand raised as if she were on the cusp of saying something. Each time, she resumed pacing instead.

“I’m not really capable of feeling much anymore, but you are making my storage overheat from trying to track you,” holo-Gavin said. “Please stand still if you can. Maybe another drink?”

Cas shook her head. “I’ve got to stay sharp,” she said. “And you never answered me. I’m going to die for the sake of the Earth, aren’t I?”

Holo-Gavin shrugged. “How the hell would I know?” he asked. “I’m already dead. No hard feelings on that front, by the way. That was a contingency we had planned for, obviously. As for your fate? I’m not much for gambling, but if I had to place a wager I’d put my money on you making it out of this alive. Unless you fail, of course, in which case I’d like to point out again I’m not much for gambling.”

Cas shook her head. A display on the back wall of the room showcased real-time footage of the Earth as it burned like an ember of a neglected campfire.

“Any helpful hints?” Cas hazarded asking.

Holo-Gavin smiled. “You need to go back the way you came,” he said. “Cryptic. Just the way you like it.” His image faltered, gaps in his appearance visible for fractions of a second.

“Damn,” holo-Gavin said. “Guess our brief time together again is almost up.”

“Hold on!” Cas demanded, unsure if it would help. “Before you go, could you at least tell me…Did we ever really get along? Were we friends, or just colleagues who fought one another? What were we?”

Holo-Gavin smiled, his face one of bittersweet recollection. “We both fought with all we had to be the lead architect on the rings,” he replied. “With time and success and failure, it became apparent who was the superior choice. I was happy to work for you, and when we realized the cost? I knew you’d make the right call. I suppose, in a sense, you did become something of a sister to me.” The holo-Gavin faltered again, longer this time, and reformed into a choppier, more pixelated version of itself.

“Do me a favor, yeah?”

Cas forced a smile. “I’ll try.”

“If you succeed,” holo-Gavin said. “If you get out of this in one piece and ever get back to Terra, could you take my eye with you? Bury it somewhere nice so I can see the world again.”

Cas winced, the sting of imminent tears burning her eyes. “Yeah, you sentimental bastard,” she replied. “I could do that.”

Holo-Gavin laughed, the sound tinny until it faded as did the projection. The cybernetic eye went dark.

Cas took a slow, long sip from the bottle and appreciated it more this time. A single image appeared on the screen ahead of her. It depicted a castle, almost straight out of a movie, deep underwater. Coordinates flashed quickly, followed by a sharp pain behind Cas’ eyes.

“I guess I’ve got the answer to where I’m off to next,” Cas said. She retrieved Gavin’s cybernetic eye from the pedestal, replaced it in her pocket, and left the room to continue her journey backwards through time and achievement to right the wrongs her progress had caused.

Follow the Ashes – Catastrophe, but Not Before a Drink

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Cas looked around at her former cohorts, memories of her time with them gradually returning. She blinked, tried to shake the fog from her head, and sighed.

“Be kind to yourself, friend,” Bertie said, stepping forward. “We know you’re not on the most even footing, so to speak, and things are coming back gradually. For the best, you know, since unlocking all of your memories at once would be quite dangerous.”

Maeve scoffed. “What kindness did she afford us? Were we not but pawns in this ordeal?”

Bertie opened his mouth, but stopped short as Cas raised a hand.

“I barely remember you,” Cas said. Maeve’s lips curled into a sneer. “It would seem I’ve wrong you in some way, however, and I’d be open to discussing that further.” She hesitated.

“Beyond the injuries I caused you recently,” Cas added. “I’m…Er, I’m glad to see you appear to have recovered.”

Raph stepped between the two. “See? What nice progress this has been.”

Bertie chuckled. “We’re on something of a tight schedule, I fear,” he said. “Gavin’s untimely expiration is undoubtedly a sign that Vittorio something’s amiss.”

Cas shook her head. “What is it you need from me next, then?” she asked. “I know it’s my fault the Earth is burning, but what can I do now?”

Bertie chuckled softly, the sound a sour humor–sadness mixed with his amusement. “The best person to answer that is dead,” he said. He smiled. “You took his eye, though, didn’t you?”

Cas reached into her pocket and found what she was looking for by a familiar cold to the touch feeling. She removed Gavin’s cybernetic eye from her pocket and held it up. It vibrated gently in her grasp as small points of light traced paths along the eye’s surface. The pupil lit up, dim at first, and then shot forth a beam of light that pointed ahead.

“Best not dally,” Bertie said. “Battery life on those was never terrific without a power source. We’ll wait right here for you.”

“That’s a conversation for you and Gavin only,” Raph said in response to Cas’ raised eyebrow.

Cas took a step forward along the corridor as she followed the light from the eye. The beam went to the end of the hall, visible as a point of red light where it stopped. When Cas reached the wall, the eye unexpectedly swiveled in her grasp. She nearly dropped it, but managed to hold fast. It pointed to the left-leading corridor, and so Cas followed. She reached the corner, and followed the corridor to the right until she reached another corner. The eye lead her to the halfway point of the corridor and then swiveled to face the wall.

The point of light, Cas noticed, was larger and now formed a flickering X.

“Marks the spot, I suppose,” Cas said. She pressed the eye against the wall, expecting some explosive response. Fanfare. Drama.

Instead she was met with a soft click. A section of wall retreated into the ceiling, and beyond the opening it left was a modest office space. A wooden desk sat in the center of the room. Cas approached and could see it was hand-carved, meticulously and with love of the craft. A small, metal tree stood devoid of leaves on the left side of the desk. A semi-spherical indent interrupted the mess of branches at the tree’s crown.

Cas inhaled as she placed the eye into what looked to be its resting spot, and watched as its light went out.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Tell me the damned battery died.”

Light poured forth from the eye, focused on a single point. It build upwards from the floor, gaining depth and definition until a very lifelike holographic projection of Gavin stood before Cas.

“Hello, Commander,” the projected Gavin said. “If you’re seeing this recording, you likely know I am dead.”

Cas sighed. “And it’s likely my fault.”

The holo-Gavin rolled his eyes and huffed. “I figured I could milk that joke for at least another line or two of dialogue, but no,” he said. “You had to go and rain on my parade. When did you get so dour?”

Cas blinked, stepping back.

“Memory core in the old eye,” holo-Gavin said. “Good for one last conversation. Before we get too far into this…” He gestured at a shelf built into the wall. There were several books and file folders, all analog which was a curious sight given that most everything else was stored in the form of data.

“The one titled ‘The Mysteries of the Isles’,” Gavin instructed.

Cas pulled the book from its resting spot and was surprised it had as much weight to it as it did. She carefully placed it on the desk, and when she opened it she was not met with pages but two crystal glasses and a small decanter.

“Might as well break out the good stuff,” holo-Gavin muttered. “I figured we’d be enjoying it under different circumstances, but I was never very good at gambling. Have a glass for me, would you? You’ll hate it.”

Cas complied, not fully certain as to why. She opened the decanter and was met with a smell like fire and rotting wood. She wrinkled her nose as she poured a modest measure into a glass, then held the glass up and swirled its contents. Before she could let her reservations get the better of her, Cas took a long drink from the glass. It tasted as it smelled, and burned her mouth in a way that made her eyes water and her nose run.

“One of the last bottles of scotch from Earth,” holo-Gavin said. “No age indication, as there was no need. It was one of a small handful. Cost me a small fortune.” He chuckled.

“I told you that you’d hate it, though,” holo-Gavin added.

Cas winced as she powered through the rest of the glass. She poured herself a second one. “To you,” she said as she held it aloft. She sipped it this time, and noticed it was less offensive. Less painful.

“I have so many questions,” Cas conceded.

Holo-Gavin shook his head, motes of dust moving through him where he stood. “If only we had the time.”

“Humor me,” Cas said. “Even just a little.”

“Perhaps, but only a little,” holo-Gavin said. “One question, and then I tell you what you need to know. Then…”

Cas frowned. “Then it’s goodbye, yes?”

Holo-Gavin nodded. “There you go getting all dour again,” he said. “What’s your question? Make it count.”

Cas considered her options. Ever since she had woken up to only the command for her to follow the ashes, and ever since Gavin had begun to pursue her, he had remained something of a mystery. Even with her memories coming back, she wasn’t sure who the real Gavin was or what motivated him.

Holo-Gavin tapped his wrist, and a small timer displayed in the air. It did not have much time left to it.

“I know,” Cas said at last. “Don’t laugh at me, though.”

“Oh ho ho, this should be good,” holo-Gavin said.

Cas held up a finger, and holo-Gavin stopped chuckling.

“Very well,” holo-Gavin said. “What’s your question?”

Cas hesitated, but forced the words to leave her mouth. “Was there a time we were friends, Gavin?”

Gavin smiled. It was a smile of genuine happiness, and for a moment it was as if he had come back to life. “That’s one hell of a question,” holo-Gavin said. “We were far more than friends, though. We were practically family.”

Follow the Ashes – His Name Was Gavin

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It was a dreary day, like many had been for the better part of a year. The rain drew trails along the outer panes of glass, any debris that had settled on their surface the night before burned away by the acidity of the rainwater. Bright, phosphorescent lightning bolts split the otherwise night-dark sky though it was only just past noon local time.

“Commander Cassiopeia.”

Cas snapped back to attention. She blinked, looking around to take in her surroundings. She was in an office, pristine and meticulously organized. She turned around. The desk behind her–her desk, she surmised thanks to a simple, black and white name tag–had a computer that looked in need of replacing, and an empty picture frame with a metal dog tag draped over it.

The officer who had entered wasn’t one with whom Cas was familiar. He stood at attention, and saluted when Cas acknowledged him.

“At ease, Captain Wilkins,” Cas said after returning the salute. “What can I do for you?”

Some of the tension left Captain Wilkins. “You’ve been assigned a new lieutenant, ma’am.”

Cas sighed. “I’d told them I don’t need a glorified assistant,” she replied abruptly. She paused, and considered her next words with care. “Forgive me. It’s been a taxing day.”

Captain Wilkins waved off the concern. “No apologies needed, Commander,” he said. “Keeping up with the protective coatings on the base to keep the constant weather anomalies has many of us a bit…Well, unfiltered I suppose. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Appreciated,” Cas said. “And is this new lieutenant here?”

Captain Wilkins nodded. “Just outside,” he replied. “Shall I bring him in?”

Cas acted as if she was weighing her options in her hands, prompting a chuckle from the Captain.

“I suppose so,” Cas replied finally.

Captain Wilkins turned and motioned to the new lieutenant. He offered a salute and left as the Cas’s newest cohort stepped into the room. When he entered, Cas blinked a few times.

He was slightly shorter than Cas. His hair, a raven shade of black, was swept neatly back and held with product. He was thin–a sign he did not come from money, and therefore had limited access to food. A bandage covered one of his eyes, and the other one probed at Cas.

“Commander Cassiopeia. Let me just start by saying what an honor it is to be assigned to you, and to such an important project,” the lieutenant said.

Cas nodded. “The Ellipse is proving to be quite an undertaking. I hope you’re not easily frightened by long hours, difficult problems, and insurmountable odds…Sorry, what was it again?”

“Apologies, Commander. Lieutenant Gavin Redford, reporting for duty,” the lieutenant, Gavin, replied.

Cas studied Gavin. “Do you have a brother, perhaps?” she asked. “Another relative I may have crossed paths with, perhaps?”

Gavin shook his head. He frowned. “I can’t say I do,” he replied, adding, “My condolences for your loss. I’d heard about your husband’s passing in the line of duty.” He nodded to the frame and the dog tag that rested atop it.

Cas shook her head. “He died in a skirmish over water reserves,” she replied. “Killed by some of his own men, no less.”

“Pardon my asking, but I had heard you chose to not seek the death penalty as is customary in such…events,” Gavin said. “Why is that?”

“A bit of a bold question on a rather heavy subject,” Cas said, a finger raised. “Perhaps we can talk about this once I’ve learned if you’re up to snuff for this project. What happened to your eye?”

Gavin smiled. “Cybernetic eye,” he said. “Still healing, freshly installed and everything. I had a suspicion it could come in handy. Time will tell, though, won’t it?”

Cas snapped sharply back to the present upon feeling the cold metal of Gavin’s cybernetic eye in her pocket. As her vision returned to focus, she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Raph,” Cas said. “It’s so good to see you. We’ve got a lot to discuss, and not much time to do so I fear.”

Raph saluted in response. Maeve and Bertie stepped into view.

“My dear friend,” Bertie said. “We’ve got far more to discuss than you could possibly imagine.”

Follow The Ashes – The Steep Cost of Failure

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Cas stepped back, hand clasped over her mouth as she struggled to swallow the scream that threatened to rip loose at any moment. The world around her wavered and disappeared, the simulated memories no longer there. Replaced by the room with the overly extravagant desk and the window that afforded a perfect view of Terra below.

Earth, or what was left of it.

“I know you’re there, damn it,” Cas said, not bothering to turn around. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

“It would have killed you, I’m afraid,” Gavin said, walking around the desk and into view. “Frankly, I’m quite surprised it didn’t kill you. I don’t believe you were meant to learn the truth just yet. There are still too many loose ends.”

Cas glared at Gavin, whose expression was unreadable as ever. “Can’t you just speak plainly?”

“If only I had the time,” Gavin replied, shaking his head. “A risk I had taken knowing the potential consequences. You’ll need to find the others. They’ll have been reassigned again now that your actions are coming together.”

“My what?” Cas demanded.

Gavin shook his head. “High Command knows what you knew, and what you did about it,” he replied. He reached into his shirt pocket and handed Cas a card key.

“You’ll need this,” Gavin instructed. “I’ll leave you with an old quote I’ve been fond of ever since we embarked on this journey you don’t yet fully recall. The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math.”

Cas couldn’t help but smiled. “What do you mean, though?”

The sound was soft and faint, and suddenly was quite horrible. It happened slow, then suddenly. The iris of Gavin’s cybernetic eye flashed red, followed by a blinding light. The heap of ashes resting where Gavin had stood seconds before seemed so small compared to how much space he took up–both physically and personality-wise.

His cybernetic eye sat atop the ashes, staring at Cas though there were no longer any signs it was still functional.

“Probably not what I had in mind, but best not risk it,” Cas said to herself. She reached down and plucked the eye from the ashes, wiping it off before placing it in one of her pockets. She shuddered.

Something called out from somewhere partially obscured in memories she couldn’t quite reach. She bowed her head, her eyes shut, and silently offered up a prayer. It felt like a foreign gesture to Cas, but seemed appropriate all the same.

The Earth burned in the corner of her vision.

“I have to make this right,” Cas said. She turned her attention to the door, then glanced at the card key in her hand. “And now I know where I can start.”

Follow the Ashes – The Price of Success

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It was a celebration that put all other celebrations to shame. Cas arrived early and still felt as if she had gotten there late, shocked by how many people were already milling about the dimly-lit room. Brilliantly colored lights played around the ceiling and glimmered up from within the floor. Simulated shooting stars passed through the air without bothering the partygoers.

Cas inhaled deeply, braced herself, and entered the chaos. She couldn’t shake the feeling something was off, but whatever that something was eluded her. Her silver dress shined brilliantly, her matching gloves held in place with micro-gravs – just enough give to look like they were slipping off without the hassle of having to adjust them.

It was not a look Cas enjoyed, but the communication was clear. Everyone was to look exceptional. There were stakeholders to please, to wine and dine, and to fleece for every penny they were worth. The Rings depended on it.

“The Rings,” Cas muttered to herself.

Someone tapped on her shoulder, and Cas spun around. Raph, Ismeria, and Gavin stood together, smiling.

“Great to see you Commander,” Raph said, smiling especially broadly.

“Color me surprised,” Gavin added. “I distinctly recall you having indicated you were busy and would not be able to put in an appearance.”

Ismeria chuckled. “You’re just pissed because we owe Raph money,” she said. “My apologies, Commander, but I figured you would prefer paperwork over partying.”

Cas shook her head. She couldn’t help but smile back. “Hardly appropriate, but you can square away paying Raph later. Of course I’m here. Speaking of being here, where’s…” She trailed off. A blank space where a name should be in her memory. Odd, Cas thought.

“Maeve is on security duty, per your command,” Gavin replied. “Or are you having a brain lapse? No need to pretend you forget her name when she’s not around.”

“Right. Of course,” Cas replied. “Excuse me, I believe we were instructed to mingle.” She excused herself, and disappeared into the crowd. Screens moved along the edge of the room. They showcased beautiful forests with opulent tree houses, Medieval castle-towns with modern amenities, and collisions of past and future.

“What amazing habitat offerings,” one guest said to another. “I can’t choose which I’d prefer.”

“Any of them are an improvement over old, sad Terra,” replied the guest’s companion.

“Terra,” Cas muttered to herself. She noticed she was being watched, so she turned around to move among the crowd and bumped into someone. He was tall and portly, dressed in a forest green suit with a soft blue vest visible.

“Oh ho, if it isn’t the favorite Commander. Good evening,” the man said.

Cas smiled. “Bertie. A sight for sore eyes. Join me for a drink and conversation, would you?”

Bertie nodded. “Of course, of course, but I’ll have to make myself scarce before long,” he replied. “I do believe your bosses hate the idea of investors being treated as friends.”

Cas intercepted one of the hospitality droids drifting among the crowd just long enough to take two glasses of champagne. She handed one to Bertie, who raised it in a toast.

“To your extraordinary success,” Bertie said. “You solved the riddle no one else could unpuzzle. An awesome feat.”

Cas hesitated. What, she wondered, had she solved that was so important. “Thank you,” Cas replied, raising her glass to meet Bertie’s.

There was a murmuring among the crowd, attention shifting to the entrance. Bertie shook his head, downed his drink, and offered a lazy salute.

“We’ll talk again soon, I’m sure,” Bertie said. “You’ve got a very important guest to speak with, I believe.” He walked away before Cas could reply. The crowd seemed to be moving away from Cas, she noticed.

“The Commander of the hour.” The speaker’s voice deep, its intent carried on murky undertones like a wave rolling off of a storm.

Cas turned around, and looked up. There was no mistaking Vittorio Prosseur. His head floated suspended in a Vitalis Solution in a globe, separate from his custom built body but quite alive. An enormous, cybernetic heart pumped visibly within a similar, translucent dome in the body’s chest.

“Doctor Prosseur, it is always an honor,” Cas replied. The words were foreign, but fell effortlessly from her mouth. “I assure you, of course, it has been a team effort.”

“Please, call me Vittorio,” Vittorio said. He placed a cybernetic hand on Cas’s shoulder, its palm larger than her head. “You and I are of a higher calling than most here. We operate on a level of skill and wisdom that’s…not always appreciated. Walk with me.”

The room was empty, save for Vittorio. The party seemed to have ended. The screens had turned off.

“I’ll admit, I would have never thought to reverse the Simulation Engines like that,” Vittorio said, standing at the largest screen in the room. “It was a very calculated move on your part. The losses great, but the gains? Let’s just say our profits have never been greater.”

Cas approached slowly, cautiously. This screen displayed a far more dreary place. Fires raged across a planet’s surface, seas boiling. Parts of the land were visible only as blackened ruin, storms of ashes swirling across them from time to time.

“You solved the problem of providing power to the Rings, Commander,” Vittorio said. “And all you had to do was burn up Terra like charcoal in an old fireplace.”

Cas felt her stomach drop as she realized the scene unfolding in front of her was no display.

“What have I done…”

Piece 15 – The Perilous Road to the Rhimeghast Mountains

Posted on by under A Puzzling New World

The sun was still low in the sky, the early morning frost only just having burned away, when Curian and Sophia prepared to leave the forest. The Orcs and Treants wished them a kind, long goodbye, repeatedly insisting they visit again, and so the duo departed with their next destination in mind. The Rhimeghast Mountains were still a long walk away, but they already dominated much of the horizon. Grasping vines covered in dagger-sized thorns flanked the dirt road, reaching deeper in some spots.

“The Rhimeghast Mountains used to be home to a bustling castle-town,” Sophia explained as they walked along. “That was ages ago, however. Long before the Liches claimed the mountains for themselves.”

Curian stopped without warning. Sophia bumped into her and stumbled back.

“Liches?” Curian replied. “Murderous mages who should be long-dead, but aren’t thanks to incredibly sinister magics?”

Sophia blinked. “Yes, I suppose that is one way of putting it.”

Curian held up a hand. “And we’re going to their domain, right? Where they’ll undoubtedly want to kill us.”

“If a Piece is there, what choice do we have?” Sophia asked.

Even at a distance, the jagged heights of the Rhimehast Mountains looked threatening–snow-capped claws tearing into the sky above.

“What else do you know about our destination?” Curian asked. “Shed some light on where we’re going.” She started walking along the road again.

Sophia walked a little faster to stay next to Curian, hoping to avoid any sudden stops. “Rhimeghast Castle-Town was a trade hub, and a favored place for weary travelers to rest,” Sophia explained. “It also happened to have a reputation as a place where criminals could bide their time while knights opted to look elsewhere.”

Curian nodded. “So it was interesting before Liches took over,” she said.

“Quite right,” Sophia said. “There are a number of accounts on when the Liches and their Undead troops arrived, but all agree on one point.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Curian asked, glancing over at Sophia as they walked.

Sophia frowned. “Ah, well…The Liches aren’t particularly keen on visits from the living.”

Curian shook her head. “Of course they aren’t.”

The slopes began gradually, the last of the dense woods along the road thinning out before they gave way to boulder-strewn, unforgiving hills. The road wound along the steep incline of the hills, tracing what may have once been the safest path. Impossibly dark, gaping cave-maws were visible in the upper reaches of the hills.

“Makes me miss the cursed forest already,” Curian muttered as she braced against a bitter, frigid wind.

There was a sound like thunder, audible over the now-relentless winds. It was distant at first, growing louder with every passing second.

Curian turned around slowly, cursing under her breath. Countless birds shifted their flight path. The Crow did not care, knocking aside of the hapless avian creatures that failed to move from her path.

“Gods damn our luck,” Curian muttered. She grabbed Sophia by the hand and pulled her along. The sound of wings pounding against the air grew louder.

“We need to make it to one of the caves,” Sophia shouted. “But we have to be careful. I recall hearing tales of caves warded with protective spells. Surely some of those will have lingered.”

“And if we pick the wrong cave?” Curian replied, not breaking her stride as she continued to sprint along the winding path, cursing the inconvenient rocks her toes became acquainted with along the way.

Sophia shrugged. “We die, perhaps?”

“Delightful,” Curian replied. They reached a fork in the path, a cavemouth to their right. The trail continued to the left.

“No, keep going,” Curian shouted. “I don’t like the looks of that one.”

“Why?” Sophia asked, though she followed.

“The glowing, red eyes didn’t exactly give me big ‘come on in, we love visitors’ vibes,” Curian replied. They charged ahead, rounding the bend as the soil gave way beneath where they had just been.

The Crow flew closer, its pace measured and deliberate. Its caws sounded more like laughter as its wingbeats buffeted the hills with harsh gales.

“Not much of a choice left,” Curian said. She leaped into the nearest cave, Sophia following after. The darkness inside was oppressive, but something dull and silver was visible along the cave’s floor.

“Runes! Get behind them!” Sophia blurted out.

The wingbeats stopped, and a thunderous caw sent a blast of hot air into the cave.

“Come out, little insects,” the Crow taunted. “I won’t eat both of you. Yet.”

“Doesn’t exactly inspire confidence,” Curian replied. “We bested your sister, Badb. What makes you think we can’t get past you? Maybe you should be more afraid.”

Badb, the Crow, cackled raucously. “Your only path to the Piece you seek is through me, fools. You sacrifice but a moment of your time to me and I will allow you to continue on your pointless endeavor. Easily the most reasonable deal you’ll get.”

Curian sighed. “And the only deal,” she said. “All right, you pestilent parakeet. Talk.”

Wanted Adventurers – Bonding Over Getting Mugged

Posted on by under Wanted Adventurers

The Guild flunkies removed the burlap sacks from Aranza and Monty’s heads, hopped on their horses, and left before Temperance could free them.

“Nice of them to provide transport,” Monty muttered. He rubbed at his wrists where the rope had bitten into his skin.

“You’re lucky they brought us this far,” Temperance sneered. “As if you two deserve such kindness.”

Aranza clenched her fist, eyes locked with Temperance’s. “I’m about to stuff your cranky Dwarven ass deep into the next hill I see…”

Monty held up a finger. “You do that and The Guild will have nooses on our necks before we make it to the next Unaligned Zone,” he said. He turned his attention to Temperance, who in turn focused her scowling on him.

“Make no mistake,” Temperance said. “I am doing this as part of my sworn duty to The Guild. One failure to comply. Even a hint of committing a crime? I’ll turn you both in and wash my hands of this.”

“So we have a tentative, tenuous agreement,” Monty replied. “We stay in line and you help us complete this highly unlikely quest, and then we part ways freed from each other’s company forevermore.”

Temperance blinked as she considered what Monty had said. A brief smile flitted across her lips.

“Course, we have to take down an Archlich before we can say our goodbyes,” Aranza said. “Don’t you forget that little detail. Anyway, let’s get a move on. Sun’s gettin’ low and we need a place to rest our heads before we get moving.”

The dirt road wound its way into a small town. Curls of fireplace smoke snaked their way from chimneytops into the crisp, evening air, and leaves crunched underfoot as the trio walked along the dirt road towards the heart of the town. The town square was empty, the numerous stands and shops lining the road closed down and boarded up.

“Awfully quiet,” Aranza muttered.

Monty held a finger up. “No one say it,” he commanded. “Nothing good ever…”

“Too quiet, perhaps,” Temperance replied.

Monty hissed several choice Highborne cursewords as the realization crossed Aranza’s face.

There was a pained groan from small side street that ran alongside the Hidden Treasure Tavern and Inn. Monty and Aranza exchanged glances.

“Yeah, I’ll take the fall for that one,” Aranza said. “I started the cursed call.”

Temperance raised an eyebrow. “You can’t mean to tell me you believe saying a place is quiet caused something to happen…”

Monty wagged a finger. “Not that simple, no,” he said. “It’s a call. One person must comment on it being awfully quiet, and then the response of it being too quiet sets things into motion.”

Another groan, slightly louder, and muttered demands could be heard from the side street now.

Temperance walked past Monty and Aranza, her armor still gleaming despite the low light. Aranza stepped into her path, arms folded across her chest.

“Listen here, Pally,” Aranza said. “I may not like you, but if we’re stuck with you I can’t let you just blunder your way into that obvious trap.”

“Someone clearly needs aid,” Temperance replied. She stepped around Aranza, and didn’t bother to look back as she continued. “How sad it must be to see the world in such cynical terms.” She disappeared into the shadows of the side street.

“Gods damn it,” Aranza said before she stormed off after Temperance.

“You following her?” Monty called after.

“Have to,” Aranza called back. “We’ve been fitted for nooses too many times for me to test my luck again. You coming along or will I have to save her myself?”

“If you insist,” Monty grumbled as he ran to catch up.

A single, sickly looking Kobold leaned against a toppled trashcan at the end of the street. He opened his eyes as the trio approached, shut them again, and groaned.

“Kindly sir, are you hurt? What happened?” Temperance asked. “Fret not, for I am an envoy of the guild and I will aid you.”

The Kobold groaned louder again. “Closer, please,” he said. “The world grows dark and cold and I fear I have not much time, goodly traveler.”

Aranza threw a dagger into the darkness behind the trash heap. There was a pained screech and a muttering of foul language.

“By the Gods, what is wrong with you?” Temperance demanded. She spun around, hand on the pommel of her zweihander. Behind her, something shifted in the shadows.

Aranza produced two more daggers from her sleeves, having adopted a defensive stance. “You want to dance, Dwarf? I’ll knock some sense into you if these muggers don’t.”

Temperance cocked her head. A rustling behind her caught her attention, and she stepped just as a Goblin leapt forward with a polearm. Her weapon’s blade struck the stone wall of the neighboring shop. Sparks rained down onto the street.

“A false dead-end,” Monty observed as he fired his crossbow into the wavering stone wall. The bolt hit something, which grunted and toppled forward onto the Kobold, which shrieked in pain.

“They had a Bridge Troll,” Monty commented. “Good thing we did assist, I suppose, or we would be cleaning our friendly Paladin off of the walls.”

“And the street. And out of those nice window boxes of flowers over there,” Aranza added.

Temperance huffed. “Perhaps I misjudged the situation, I’ll concede,” she said over metal-against-metal of her sword being unsheathed. A soft, white glow emanated from within the blade. It filled the street and banished the glamoured shadows and false wall. Two more Kobolds ran out, one with a club raised above his head and the other with a frying pan.

“You die now!” shouted the one Kobold.

“We take your gold!” shouted the other.

One of the Kobolds was knocked backwards, the back door to the inn having been thrown open abruptly. A towering Wyvernkin with a slick, black ponytail hunched in the doorway.

“Keep it down out here, wouldya?” roared the Wyvernkin, obsidian flames flickering around his fangs. “I’ve got paying customers trying to get a good night’s rest, and they can’t with you buffoons brawling back here.”

“Forgive us, good Dragonfolk,” Temperance said as she wound up and delivered a gauntlet-bolstered punch to the remaining Kobold’s snout. It crumpled to the dirt, unconscious but still alive.

The Wyvernkin huffed, shook his head, and slammed the door shut.

“Made tidy work of them, I think,” Monty said as he looked around the alley. “Best check their pockets and see if they’ve got anything worth liberating from their ownership, yes?”

“Already on it,” Aranza replied as she rifled through the Troll’s collection of skulls converted into carrying satchels.

Reluctantly, rigidly, Temperance approached one of the Kobolds and retrieved his leather wallet. She felt a thud against her back, and spun to see Aranza.

“You got cozy with that real quick, didn’t you?” Aranza said, unable to suppress a laugh.

The color drained from Temperance’s face. “I…Well, they were criminals, and so this likely belonged to someone else. It’s best we reclaim it and look into finding its rightful owner.”

“Hate to break it to you, Pally, but the rightful owner of that handful of copper and the few shiny bits we get?” Aranza replied. “Probably dead. No need to feel bad for robbing the robbers.”

“This alley could have been our untimely grave,” Monty added. “One does wonder where such a questionable crew came upon such complex glamours, however.”

Aranza clicked her tongue. “Can’t ask ’em right now,” she muttered. “Suspect we’ll find out eventually, but best to leave the trash where it lies for now. Who wants to go grab a pint? Their treat.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Monty said. They turned to leave the side street. Temperance cleared her throat loud enough that Monty and Aranza turned around.

“I…Well, perhaps…” Temperance said.

“Second round’s on you,” Aranza said. “No one’s checking if you’re using your money or theirs, though. Sound good?”

Temperance nodded, following along.

The front door to The Hidden Treasure was storm-and-sea-weathered wood, larger than a royal galleon. It swung open with a gentle push, the room behind it warm and welcoming and filled to the brim with life. Everyone fell silent as Monty, Aranza, and Temperance entered.

The barkeeper–the Wyvernkin who had knocked one of the Kobolds out earlier–glanced up from cleaning a goblet, sneered, and resumed his task. The trio made their way to the bar.

“What can I get you, uh, group of troublemakers,” the barkeeper grunted.

“Hail and well met,” Temperance said.

The barkeeper looked up, eyes narrowed. “Yeah, yeah, drop the formalities, would ya’?” he snarled. “I’ve paid our Guild dues for this lunar cycle and I don’t much care to have you goons buggin’ my paying customers.”

Temperance blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“if that’s what you’re into, good for you,” the barkeeper said. “Just be into it elsewhere, yeah? I got customers behind you waiting to spend real coppers here.”

Monty gently maneuvered between Temperance and the bar and offered a gleaming smile. “Our friend means no ill will,” he said.

The barkeeper looked Monty up and down, frowning. “Don’t think I care much for you neither,” he said. “You, the Orc. The one good with throwing knives. You here to cause trouble?”

Aranza shrugged. “Depends on if trouble’s here to be had,” she shot back.

The barkeeper sighed. “Tell ya’ what,” he said. “These two prim-and-proper types with you?”

Aranza offered a curt nod.

“You keep them outta other customers’ business,” the barkeeper said. “You took care of Fangra’s goons, so you’re good in my book…There are others here who might not see you the same way, you hear me?”

“Clear as a bell, and twice as well,” Temperance replied, and immediately received an icy look from the barkeeper as a result.

“You must be a real treat at parties,” the barkeeper said. “Go tell Grimsby over there what you want. Food. Drink. Whatever. I’ll give you an okay discount, ’cause you’re just okay. You planning to spend the night?”

“There a room to be had?” Aranza asked.

“Only if you promise you won’t be around long,” the barkeeper said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a bunch of half-dead crooks I need to clean up.”