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The familiar faces and familiar bumps of the wagon brings back memories of time gone by, when you first saw your fellow travelers.
2 years earlier...
15 Brummaire 1006
It was the waning days of summer as well as the waning days of the War of the Territories (though you didn't know it at the time). You were in a similar unbearably hot elephant wagon, in the middle of a similar sand storm, a few days out from Samarkand, with seemingly coincidentally, the same faces you are with today, but back before you all had a shared purpose. You are passengers on one of the few civilian transports still traveling the spice road. Some of you are returning to Samarkand after a business enterprise. Others are coming to lend succor to those afflicted by the war. Others are just passing through. But this particular transit will not be incident free, which is unsurprising for during these times of troubles, they never are. You hear an elephant handler start yelling something from the fore cabin, what exactly is hard to make out given the wind, when her voice suddenly goes silent, and the elephants plod to a halt.
You then hear a large blast like a cannon discharge from outside, and the ensuing explosion leaves a large hole in the back of the wagon. Through the hole, just barely visible through the blowing sands, and gray smoke, only because of its immense size, you see the wreckage of a large airship, it's hot air bladders deflated and buffeted and torn by the razor sharp sand laced wind.
Outside, you hear the indistinct murmur of many voices, but one gravelly voice cuts through the whistling winds: "This is Colonel Maddoc of the Francian Dragoons. We are commandeering this wagon in the name of his Excellency, l'Empereur. Come out with your hands empty and above your head, and no-one will be hurt."
Your move.
[The wagon is much like the one you are in. You are seated in the cargo hold, 20 feet high, 20 feet wide, 30 feet across. The hold is half full with crates and sacks of foodstuff, and 6 passengers. There is a cabin in front for the drivers; it is accessed by a ladder that goes 10 feet up in the front of the cargo hold. The obvious exit is through the new hole (radius about 6 feet) in the rear. Normally, the back wall folds down to serve as a ramp.
If you intend any actions that require checks, (like Spot or Listen) it would be helpful if you could give me your skill level. If you're hard core you can even send the roll to me via e-mail using something like http://hamete.org/dserver/maildice
Oh, in case it is not clear, you are level 1 in this scene.
Give me a few things you want to do or a general strategy at this point. Once I have a quorum, I will move on to what happens next]
Monday, September 15, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Episode 01.a - Beginnings
12 Thermidor 1008
The hot summer sun beats down on the backs of two extremely large dusty leathery grey elephants plodding their way through the dusty landscape. Their harnesses jangle in the vicious winds as they strain silently, pulling the large wagon, standing two stories tall, 20 feet across and 30 feet long, atop sturdy armored axels and large wheels that grinds into the sandy road beneath. You are seated within the cargo hold of the largely empty wagon, which offers protection from the biting sandstorm winds, but also keeps in the stifling hot heat.
You left Samarkand the night before on a 5 day journey, and already you find the constantly whistling wind and baking heat unbearable. The Ceylon invasion ended 2 years ago. The frontier capital has mostly returned to some semblance of normalcy, except that nearly all the buildings are less than 2 years old. The seemingly unstoppable forces of Zuge Khan have turned back inward, as the Khan returned home to consolidate power, leaving only a mostly hands off Ceylonese prelate who occupies the governor's compound.
Each of you has for been hearing various rumors of a cargo shipment on the Francian Airship, the A.S. Lucius Newberry, that disappeared 2 years ago, reportedly worth a King's ransom. Those rumors led each of you independently to a meeting with a mysterious gentleman, who calls himself only Monsieur. X. wearing long black bedouin robes, with a hood that obscured his face, he spoke with an impeccable and refined Europan accent. Monsieur. X has a contact in the small mining town of Frisco by name of Brigit. She has information regarding the missing cargo, but needs you to pick up a shipment of sulphur from the odiferous steam pits en route to Frisco. She also needs you to do so without getting stopped by the Ceylonese customs agents.
Monsieur. X has provided the elephant wagon and its elephant driver (a pair of quiet and apparently dull-witted twin half-orcs named Nog and Zog who have adapted the minor psionic powers needed to serve as wagon drivers), both to help transport the sulfur, but also in the hopes of bringing the cargo of the Lucius Newberry back to Samarkand.
(You will get the chance to play out your conversation and questions for Monsieur. X later)
You each have your own (not necessarily pecuniary) reasons why you are here. Looking around, of the six passengers, you recognize a lot of familiar faces, others who you have encountered off and on in your past two years in Samarkand.
There is a dapper halfling with short dark curly hair and friendly inquisitive darting eyes, dressed in a somewhat weathered silk shirt and silk cravat, black vest, black knickers. He holds a small leather bound notebook, and graphite stylus. You see him constantly jotting down notes, and sketching, lost in thought.
There is also...
...
...
...
[So you have sent out back stories, but here's the set up. Let us know what your characters look like in this situation. You'll get the chance to introduce yourselves properly after the flashback, which will provide more context for the adventure. No dialogue yet, but feel free to ask me questions. As a head's up, after the flashback, the halfling will introduce himself, tell you his motivations, and ask each of you what brought you here. You can think about how you'd respond to that question.]
The familiar faces and familiar bumps of the wagon brings back memories of time gone by, to the fateful day and wagon ride when you first saw these fellow travelers.
The hot summer sun beats down on the backs of two extremely large dusty leathery grey elephants plodding their way through the dusty landscape. Their harnesses jangle in the vicious winds as they strain silently, pulling the large wagon, standing two stories tall, 20 feet across and 30 feet long, atop sturdy armored axels and large wheels that grinds into the sandy road beneath. You are seated within the cargo hold of the largely empty wagon, which offers protection from the biting sandstorm winds, but also keeps in the stifling hot heat.
You left Samarkand the night before on a 5 day journey, and already you find the constantly whistling wind and baking heat unbearable. The Ceylon invasion ended 2 years ago. The frontier capital has mostly returned to some semblance of normalcy, except that nearly all the buildings are less than 2 years old. The seemingly unstoppable forces of Zuge Khan have turned back inward, as the Khan returned home to consolidate power, leaving only a mostly hands off Ceylonese prelate who occupies the governor's compound.
Each of you has for been hearing various rumors of a cargo shipment on the Francian Airship, the A.S. Lucius Newberry, that disappeared 2 years ago, reportedly worth a King's ransom. Those rumors led each of you independently to a meeting with a mysterious gentleman, who calls himself only Monsieur. X. wearing long black bedouin robes, with a hood that obscured his face, he spoke with an impeccable and refined Europan accent. Monsieur. X has a contact in the small mining town of Frisco by name of Brigit. She has information regarding the missing cargo, but needs you to pick up a shipment of sulphur from the odiferous steam pits en route to Frisco. She also needs you to do so without getting stopped by the Ceylonese customs agents.
Monsieur. X has provided the elephant wagon and its elephant driver (a pair of quiet and apparently dull-witted twin half-orcs named Nog and Zog who have adapted the minor psionic powers needed to serve as wagon drivers), both to help transport the sulfur, but also in the hopes of bringing the cargo of the Lucius Newberry back to Samarkand.
(You will get the chance to play out your conversation and questions for Monsieur. X later)
You each have your own (not necessarily pecuniary) reasons why you are here. Looking around, of the six passengers, you recognize a lot of familiar faces, others who you have encountered off and on in your past two years in Samarkand.
There is a dapper halfling with short dark curly hair and friendly inquisitive darting eyes, dressed in a somewhat weathered silk shirt and silk cravat, black vest, black knickers. He holds a small leather bound notebook, and graphite stylus. You see him constantly jotting down notes, and sketching, lost in thought.
There is also...
...
...
...
[So you have sent out back stories, but here's the set up. Let us know what your characters look like in this situation. You'll get the chance to introduce yourselves properly after the flashback, which will provide more context for the adventure. No dialogue yet, but feel free to ask me questions. As a head's up, after the flashback, the halfling will introduce himself, tell you his motivations, and ask each of you what brought you here. You can think about how you'd respond to that question.]
The familiar faces and familiar bumps of the wagon brings back memories of time gone by, to the fateful day and wagon ride when you first saw these fellow travelers.
Samarkand RPG - Admin Info
Let's see if this works better than e-mail. It hopefully will keep everything in one place. I will post new moves as new posts, and you can add your moves as a comment. (Do continue to e-mail me for private questions). You should still get e-mail of new posts and comments. Let me know if you guys prefer e-mail though. I don't have strong feelings, either way.
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