Quiet Gates and Buried Bones (UVP - Campaign 1 - Session 2)

 PCs:

Arc - Maker; expert in lenses

Ren - Weaver; wielder of Fire, Alleyways, and The Woods

Adella - Maker; expert in gyroscopes

Bron - Goetic; wielder of a Pale iron dagger

Adna - Vance... very much so

Naiya - Weaver; wielder of Lust, Alleyways, and The Tower

Morning crept through the purple haze over the Violet City to find the vislae discussing travel plans on the veranda of The Silver Stag over a breakfast of fruit and cat coffee. Supplies would be needed, plus mules to carry everything and probably a cart as well. As the vislae were checking out and getting ready to go make their final purchases before meeting up with Vorgo, another vislae arrived. Naiya, a Weaver, had been delayed a few days by inclement weather on the Circle Sea. Too late for the reading of the will, but just in time to meet up with the party before they left the city.

The vislae headed down to the Lotus District to meet back up with Vorgo outside The Salubrious Shell and see if he had passed their test and doubled his money. They found him deep in a game of cards, clutching onto his last orb of cash while €100 more sat in a pot between him and his opponents. Apparently he had been gambling all night. The cards were laid down and Vorgo came up short. As his opponent (a burly dock worker) began sweeping up the winnings, Vorgo frantically looked to the vislae to see disproving faces, and challenged his opponent to a duel in an attempt to save his investment. If he won, he would take the pot instead. If he lost, he would owe the dock worker double that amount. The dock worker agreed, and immediately pulled a revolver on Vorgo.

"Game over."

Vorgo grinned and held up a fist, slowly opening it to spill bullets onto the ground. As realization dawned on the dock worker's face, and renewed interest rippled among the vislae, Vorgo pulled his own revolver.
"Not quite. Pay up."

The pot was forked over with a scowl, and a beaming Vorgo presented €101 to the party. Arc took back his €25 and told a stunned Vorgo he could keep the rest as an advance. And with that, the party hit the road, enthusiastic zilat hireling in tow.

After a few days on the road, the party were no longer strangers. Adella noticed the way Naiya fidgeted with pieces from spider chess as she fell asleep, and sometimes moved them as she dreamed. Naiya noticed how Arc would hum a sort of theme song to himself on the road, and found it endearing... for the first few days. On day four, the party encountered a wandering serai, a lumbering trade village on wheels, decked out in the Later Corpsepaint Monarch style. They purchased a few extra supplies to remedy an earlier miscalculation, and considered another possible hireling: a Greenlander veteran named Beauregarthe.

"How much do you pay? My typical rate is €60/week."

"We were hoping you'd tag along for the adventure of it" ventured Arc. "You know, see the world and all that."

"I'm coming from the way you are going. I've seen it. I think I'll stick with the serai since they pay with, you know, cash."

They parted ways and trundled on through flurries of ash blown around by the flat-tasting air. Bron grappled with bouts of melancholy, but no serious misfortune befell the party on the trail. By week's end, they had reached the Low Road and the High, an expanse where the plains gave way to an actual caravan path, winding beneath an ancient, pockmarked viaduct. It was a popular caravan stop, with ruins of old way stations providing some measure of shelter, if not security. Adella recognized the area from an old travel guide she once read, and recalled rumors of an ancient gate nearby, a grounded aerolith about 3 days to the south. The party was intrigued and agreed this was worth an excursion.

Upon reaching the artificial mountain, multiple avenues of exploration presented themselves. Should they investigate the gargantuan, petrified bones protruding from the loamy ground around the base of the mountain? Should they hike to the pierced peak and see if any traces of power lingered in the once-portal? Should they examine the abandoned looking hovels on the western slope?

All of the above. Arc investigated the bones and determined that they were not only valuable, but had potential as a magical ingredient in the hands of a Maker such as himself. Their buried status meant that it would take several days to excavate and carve out meaningful amounts for trade.

Adna and Bron trekked the hour and a half to the dead portal peak, and found that it was a place of power. The dimension gate lay dormant, but gargantuan Goetic runes remained clearly visible around the massive aperture, and rituals could be performed here, maybe even to reactivate the gate. Bron was intrigued by the possibility, especially since he suspected the gate's twin might lie beneath the Halls Goetica back in Satyrine. Perhaps it was once used to project military power from the capitol deep into these western reaches of Indigo. Oh to see home again! Adna was less enthusiastic. Many gates were sealed during the Second War, and for good reason. Opening this one would likely violate Vancian mandates. She declined to share with Bron any knowledge of reactivation rituals. If he was going to meddle with dead portals, he could do his own research.

Adella, Naiya, Ren, and Vorgo perused the abandoned hovels and found traces of what might have been a festival. Vorgo marveled at a massive mural sprayed onto most of the south side of the aerolith: twin tiger snakes twined around the moon. They found a few industrial sized pigment canisters, though the substance seemed magically reactive, something more than mere paint. Adella instructed Vorgo to load a few onto one of the mules for possible use as a power source in a future project. Vorgo managed to only spray himself in the face once. Naiya noticed that several of the hovels looked burned from the outside, perhaps by a weapon. Ren called the others' attention to a cellar door in one of the hovels. It was chained shut, and something was occasionally banging against the doors from the underside.

"Hello? Anyone there?" ventured Naiya.

...beep... "Hello? Anyone there?" a voice like her own echoed back.

Adella was concerned. The door was chained shut for a reason after all. Perhaps best to check with the others before delving into places best left undisturbed.

The party reconvened on the ridge for a picnic lunch, realizing as they did so that the last of their tasty rations were used up, and that for the coming week's journey to the Porcelain Citadel (if they followed through on their plans to go there next) would be warmed by no wine, and sustained by dwarf bread devoid of marmalade. So be it. There were more important matters at hand. The Makers compared notes and formed a hypothesis: the indications of massive bones and at least some sort of underground passageway could be signs they stood above a titan corpse, the husk of one of the most terrible ontological weapons of the Second War. What treasures might lie within... If the head was down there... dared they dream of finding a titan gem? A crystal helix of forgotten power? The pinnacle of forbidden magitech? It was just a theory. That cellar door might just as well lead to a vome nest. The Weavers were keen to check out the peak for themselves. If there was a place of power on hand, they could use it to enhance a weave, and potentially glean some information about what lie below.

A pouting Vorgo was instructed to mind the mules while the vislae ascended to the peak. Bron pointed out where best to stand to take advantage of the leylines. Naiya and Ren took their places and began to weave with power borrowed from the mountain, both intertwining threads of Alleyways. Naiya's firm and abrupt movements contrasted with Ren's fluid grande jeté as she danced around her. Magic seethed in the air above them, and the strands came up... whispers and filth. The Weavers channeled it towards whatever lay below, hoping to glean some information. An oily ball of brackish water formed above their heads, and cryptic snippets of what lay below began bubbling out. Great bulges erupted from the bottom of the floating filth orb like an inverted volcanic pool, and they spilled breathy phrases as they splashed on the enruned floor.

...search engine...

...ontological regulator...

...hall of justicars...

...titan diagnosis...

...deep storage...

...ego machines...

As the weave ended the floating ball came splashing down, leaving an oily stain spelling out a final word: R8-By.

The vislae grinned. There was definitely a titan corpse down there. R8-By was it's name. Ego machines meant titan gems were likely. This was the mother lode... but would they survive it? Bron stepped up to the leylines. Best to summon backup before heading down. He sketched a quick chalk circle and called out to the Red Sun. The being that answered was a being of fire surrounding a charred skeleton, bound by a suit of spiked plate mail. A deal was struck. It would remain for five hours. It would not maliciously misinterpret Bron's commands. Bron would burn something for it at a later date. So be it.

A significantly more unnerving hike later, the party stood before the chained cellar doors, demon in tow. No banging was audible anymore. At Bron's word, the demon materialized a blow-torch blade and melted through the chains. The light of the flame revealed... water... and bookshelves. A drowned library below. Perhaps the titan's archives. The dungeon awaited.

The final words of the session were spoken by the Ash Knight to Bron, growled in the harsh language of Red.

"I do not like water. I do not swim."

What dangers lurk below? Will the vislae return from their delve unscathed? Can the Ash Knight be coaxed into the soggy depths? Find out next time!

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The Weavers were collectively voted MVPs for this week. It was great to see both weaving and summoning in action for the first time. So far both systems are working as intended. Hopefully we can get some crafting action from the Makers soon.

Things to improve on for next time center around getting the players in the habit of doing pre-session blue booking on Discord, because there was a real danger towards the beginning of this session that we would spend an hour shopping for caravan gear. It's partially my fault for not making lists of goods more readily available to the players, but I definitely don't want to hand wave that sort of thing all together. I think part of the real magic of caravan style play comes from making meaningful decisions around time and resources, and feeling the cost of every new mouth to feed and sack to haul. I'm going to sort out the party's finances and then turn the details over to them to manage between sessions from here on out.