(Dungeon World) The Clockwork Castle

[Isikien]

The Clockwork Castle – The beginning

In Ivorylight, there is a saying. “A community loses its limbs by fire or sword, but its heart can be torn out through its family bonds.”

The phrase often was widely attributed to the bardic legends of The Clockwork Castle. A utopian, self-contained nation state of elvish magicians, scientists and military tacticians. Legend has it that the Castle could fly but fell to earth due to a lover’s spat.

The tale mutates and wends its way through history. A love triangle, a forbidden marriage, even a jealous male harem slave; the story structure and cause for the fall of the Castle changes over time.

With that tale comes legends of fantastic technology, magic metal creations and grand feats of engineering. Archaeologists have scoured the known globe, delved into ruins in order to find clues of the Orinthians, the civilisation that helmed the Castle.

------​

Above - The continent of Pollard

Ivorylight is the capital of Lluric, which is a small merchant republic outside of the jurisdiction of major powers. Settlers and Pioneers came from Marshank, an isolated city state west of the Great Shrublands through the tribal states of Orrel to settle a pleasant coastal area rife with resources. Over time it became an independent land, with Ivorylight reaping the benefits of trade of resources such as Slate, Iron and Gold acquired in the mines of its lands.

The Tribal States are a series of Tribal settlements, with a group of Druids as the head of each tribe. The Tribal States have come to tolerate their close neighbours but due to their cultural differences as well as infighting, can come to blows with each other and Lluric. Worse yet, the Stone Woods and the Heather are very dangerous to travellers due to monsters and wildlife plaguing its space.

As a result, Ivorylight commissioned the creation of The Rangers, rugged envoys, scouts and explorers to help manage frontier conflicts or difficult situations, from kidnappings to escorts.





Above - The city of Ivorylight

Recently, the late winter has reduced the amount of ‘business’ the Rangers get. Rangers are essentially part-time and have to find or return to their odd jobs if not on campaign. As a result they’re extremely well connected in Ivorylight’s grapevine out of necessity.

They might be labourers in the local mines, farmhands outside of the city, attendants or owners of local businesses if they are particularly rich or barflies that carouse often round the docks during the winter months. They could be apprenticed to or working with Hedge Wizards or local Physicians, or Hunters or big game. Either way, a Ranger is a distinguished individual capable of wearing many of society’s ‘hats’, there’s no such thing as an inactive Ranger.

------
​

Despite the slow business, in late February, a woman walked into the Rangers office recently, petitioning for help with a sizeable purse of gold.

Captain Churl has offered her your services and for you all to be compensated up front with half of the sum of money she was offering for your services, 400 gold between you.

This is unusually charitable for Churl. He’s very good at extorting payment from reluctant contractors but a tithe rarely, if ever, is paid up front.

The letters that he has sent to all of you indicate that he would like to talk to you all about the matter at the Ranger Offices in Ivorylight’s Naval District, seperate from the contractor, again, which is most unusual. You have all received the letters on the same morning by post from Frontier Messengers, the fast foot scouts of the Rangers.

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A couple of questions for your characters:

- Where are you when you receive this letter? Tell us about your surroundings, what your activities are etc.

- How will you respond to this? What will you do?

Ivorylight is a big coastal city, it is reasonable to assume that it has many facilities that you’d expect from a Renaissance era city, including places like public baths or ‘chop houses’ for food. Use your imagination!

 

[bradwoj]

The young messenger drew the hood of his heavy wool cloak tighter around his head as he stepped on to the pier, the ocean breeze feeling like a cold slap in the face on this freezing winter's day. The sun had just about disappeared on the horizon, and the dock workers and sailors were all warming up in a tavern somewhere. Alton had drawn the short straw - not only the last message of the day shift, but one taking him all the way the hell out here. He tried to hurry his step but the dock was slick with ice - he muttered a curse to the weather gods as he barely regained his footing. At the far end of the dock, some 300 perilous, blustery meters ahead, sat a massive oblong shape, backlit by the last fading rays of sunlight. The dock was wide enough for four men shoulder-to-shoulder; the figure took up every inch of it and then some.

Half-stepping, half-sliding, Alton eventually came to the end. There was no doubt, even from back on the shore, that this was his target, but the sight of him up close still filled him with trepidation. He pulled the letter out of his cloak pocket and shouted against the wind, "Dayne... Gheimhridh?" - butchering the unfamiliar pronunciation.

The massive shape rolled and turned inelegantly, revealing itself to be a monstrous white walrus, yellow tusks the size of Alton's forearm jutting out from under white whiskers and large, black eyes. The walrus let out a half-bark, half-roar, then chuffed and snorted. Alton stepped back, briefly entertaining the idea he was completely wrong and had just approached a dangerous animal - and then, it changed.

The tusks receded first, as the eyes shrunk and changed color from black to a deep, dark brown. The whiskers on the snout grew longer and spread across the bottom half of its face, and then upwards to create a mop of thick, tangled white hair. The flippers extended and became narrower; the tail split into two. The bumpy, leather-like hide turned brown and took on a well-oiled sheen as it became a surprisingly well-tailored suit of leathers. Before Alton could fully process what he was seeing, there was a large, wild-looking man crouched on his haunches where once there was an animal.

"Sorry abou' tha'! Sometimes I ferget to use me people words!" Dayne called out cheerfully as he stood. Alton, who was familiar with the concept of shape-changing but rarely saw it in person, could only stare, dumbfounded as Dayne reached into his jerkin to pull out a tri-corner leather cap, slapped it against his hip to unfurl it, and stuck it on his head. "Beau'iful nigh', would'n'ya say? 'minds me a home!" Even in his human form, Dayne was a sight to behold: damn near seven feet, built like an ox, with a lion-like white mane making his head look even larger.

Alton grunted something resembling assent and held out the letter. Dayne reached out a tanned, weather-beaten hand three times the size of the boy's and plucked the parchment from him carefully. He opened it and held it out at arm's length, squinting in the dim light. "Can't e'en read the damn thing. Ya mind?"

Alton took the letter back and cleared his throat, then recited its contents in a high, reedy voice. Dayne listened carefully, stroking his beard. When the boy was finished, Dayne clapped his hands and said, "A new mission! 'opefully outta' the damn city this time!" He beamed at the messenger, meaning well but looking to Alton horrifyingly close to a silverback gorilla baring its teeth. Dayne reached back into his jerkin and pulled out an ornate ruby ring, which looked laughably small in his hand. "'ere ya go, foun' it under the dock when I 'as divin'. Don't ken whither its worth nothin', but it's yers."

The boy was no jeweler, but he was reasonably confident that this tip was worth more than two months of his normal salary. He looked up at Dayne, muttered something that could pass for appreciation, and took off back towards shore, falling several times on the icy dock. Dayne watched him go, chuckling to himself. Then he turned, admired the the last of the pink in the sky turning to gray, and stretched, cracking his back loudly in several places.

Were it a summer's night, observant beach-goers may have seen the wide silhouette on the pier disappear in an instant. If there weren't so much snow on the ground, they may have also seen the arctic fox trotting gaily off the pier and onto Somerland Street, in the direction of the Ivorylight Ranger Offices, tongue lolling out of its mouth under suspiciously thick white whiskers.

 

[Baba Luga]

DIAMANDA

It was somewhere towards the end of her cadenza, full of many fiddly trills she'd been meaning to edit out, that she noticed one of the Shandath's servants had entered the conservatory and was waiting patiently by the door. This new violin still had plenty of settling to do and it protested a bit as she transitioned to a higher register and Marin Shandath began the contrabass ostinato that would bring in the rest of the small ensemble at the climax of the solo.

The servant waited on, slack-jawed, clearly unmoved by the performance. Preoccupied as she was by this interloper, it was only when she noted that someone's intonation was slipping and then realized with alarm that it was her own, that she brought her full attention back to the piece, just in time for Elonia Shandath to bang out the climactic coda on the older couple's antique harpsichord. Polite applause follwed, from six of the Shandaths' friends who formed the audience for this impromptu recital.

Marin thanked the musicians for indulging him and, turning to DIamanda, asked how she liked her new instrument. The Shandaths, wealthy merchants, had used their connections to get her an excellent price from the luthier. She would have been a fool to pass on the opportunity, even if she did miss her trusty old hurdygurdy.

But now, here was that servant again, insinuating himself into the space behind her right shoulder, insistently pressing a folded piece of paper into her still-occupied bow hand. "For you, madame, by messenger." She nodded in acknowledgement.

While she wiped the rosin off her strings, she surreptitiously unfolded the note in her instrument case and read it. Finally, a real job with the Rangers! So far they'd only given her odds and ends--following leads within the city limits, and one sad, abortive investigation that petered out with the contractor deciding he'd rather not, after all.

She wondered who'd be along this time. That charming dwarf barbarian Firg Mud in Face? Or maybe the notorious halfling rogue Cuff Gardenmallow. Surely at least a few familiar faces from the hiring hall.

These thoughts distracted her all through lunch. Marin and Elonia had been generous, very generous, during her "sabbatical" after walking out on that so-called institute of hiring learning. The couple had even started talking about some sort of patronage arrangement, which Diamanda did not think she really wanted. But now, this assignment from the Rangers would solve all that, at least for a week or so.

Lunch over--the tart fish terrine cleaned from her plate--she quickly said her farewells and dashed off to the Ranger Offices.

 

[Pashalik Mons]

Haunt walks nonchalantly out of the apartments near the opera house, a caged raccoon under one arm and a jingle to his step. He knuckles his hat to an important looking man, keeping his demeanor in line with his servant's livery. "Got that blasted thing trapped, eh? Took you long enough!" The man snapped. "Sir, yes sir!" Haunt replied. Long enough, indeed. Scenting someone looking for him, Haunt abruptly vanishes into an alleyway, leaving a frustrated Frontier Messenger with a cold trail.

A short time later, a better dressed Haunt blushes as Madam Lucille presses a small purse of coins into his hand. "I heard she was up all night screeching, and couldn't hold a tune now if her life depended on it. I don't know how you do it, Louis, but you're simply the best." Haunt slips the purse under his coat and says smoothly, "It's always worth a little late night here and there to make sure the true talent rises to the top. It's dreadful how few louts in the audience really know the difference between top talent and cut rate."

On his way out, Haunt deliberately slips by the messenger, but decides to cut him a break. A moment later, the boy whirls, feeling the thief's sticky fingers, and sees Haunt leaning against a wall casually reading his letter. "You can't read tha-well, you can, but-...!!!" Haunt smiles. "You're really pretty good to have kept on my trail like that. Here, Art, you've earned a tip. Don't hold yourself back being hotheaded, you'll make full Ranger soon with your wits about you." Haunt pats the boy on the shoulder, and walks off to go meet the Captain.

"You only get the last word because you leave in the middle, Louis!" Art calls after him. Still mad, Art feels a weight in his pocket and pulls it out. He finds a piece of paper wrapped around a couple of coins. "Sounds like I've got a job." It says. "Feed the raccoon while I'm gone, will you? ~Haunt"

 

[Podrus]

Eldar felt the sweat dripping off of his skin, be it his own or one of the lumps who were in the pile he seemed to share. But the elf did his best to push off fool after fool, eventually breaking through to the top of the pile and looking at the towering man who stood in the center of the bar.

“Eyy! I want another go!” The elf yelled out to the man, adjusting his trousers and looking over to a nearby chair. His own armor and specially made flail still in their spot as he took a step forward, chest already bruised and cut from his last go against the obviously more experienced man. Eldar always seemed to get himself into situations like this though, not one to take defeat likely, and always one to try and push himself beyond whatever limits he had at the moment. And so, the man silently accepted the offer for a rematch and Eldar was once again in the circle surrounded by drunkards.

This time though, Eldar wasn’t going to get surprised with that left hook, regardless of how sneakily it was delivered. So the elf closed the distance quickly, using what speed he had to his advantage as he came in low, shoulder hitting the man in the stomach and….doing absolutely nothing. Again Eldar was surprised, this time being put down with a simple chop to the back of his head as he fell to the ground.

Hours later, when the fighting had ended and the man still stood undefeated, Eldar was at his table, tankard in front of him, and angrily putting his leathers and mail back on. He shook his head, swearing up and down about how there had to have been magic involved, the fight wasn’t fair, something about weight class and about a hundred other different excuses. But as he was getting finished up he heard the bartender yell for him, flagging him over.

So, Eldar ended up at the bar, drinking and complaining as he read the letter from the Rangers and smirked. “You know the deal Clarence, Rangers will cover my tab” He said with a stupid grin on his bruised face. And so the elf set out, headed towards the Ranger’s Office, only a small limp with him this time.

 

[Isikien]

You all make your way to the Ranger offices, on Somerland Street. On arrival, a couple of individuals are milling about in the courtyard; the offices share a space with an administration wing of the town as well as a small inn called The Brecons that offers food and board to locals.

@Eldar, The Brecon's barmaid, Violet, goads you cheekily as you pass by. "'Allo our Eldar, fancy getting scruffy tonight? Or you been throwing your weight around at Clarences'?" The halfling girl is new to this area, good looking and can be quite the charmer, to men and women alike.

@-Haunt, On arrival you notice a duo of shoeblacks that you don't recall the name of. Like many boys of the street, they have many trades by day and night. These boys are eyeing you candidly; they know of your reputation. You may have seen them before enviously attempting to chase your coattails in hope that you may pity them and teach them your 'methods'. They say nothing though; they know the rules of the streets.

@Diamanda, You spot the Captain first, sheltered in the thin windows of the guild hall. He's wearing his Green garb and is studiously writing something on the windowsill. Occasionally, he looks up, sharply scanning the courtyard. He gives you a curt nod.
The Captain was infamously coy around you for a time, possibly due to his rather strict, lower class background and perhaps due to the fact that you possessed a vibrancy as befitting of your profession. Thankfully, despite exhibiting that juvenile shyness from time to time, he has somewhat mellowed and his nervousness around you has decreased drastically.

@Dayne, You stride into the courtyard toweringly. A merchant enroute from his morning meeting from the administration block double-takes as you thunder by. His eyes bulge out of his sockets at the size of you and he nearly drops his ledger in shock. Perhaps he means nothing by this display, perhaps he's just that shocked by your appearance.

----
​

@All, if you wish, you can initiate moves such as Discern Realities or class specific moves.

You can also assume that you have turned up roughly at the same time. If you wish to go in to talk to the captain, it is best to treat each post as chronological in how events and discussions occur.

Beyond this point if its something pressing like a dice roll or danger, I'll try to prioritize whoever addresses the biggest problem or threat, or whoever is under threat the most, first. Otherwise, I'll address posts in reverse order, in one single post.

Going by Dayne's first post, it is probably dusk at this time, getting on a bit as the city nightlife picks up, so the courtyard is mildly busy.

You can all world build like in your first posts in these city/town sections. I'll respond to characters you inject into the story and will try to involve them in events.

 

[Baba Luga]

DIAMANDA

Well then, a brisk wave up to the once-bashful Captain and scan around the courtyard to see what familiar faces might also have been summoned for this job. Better not catch a whiff of that condescending prick Helbur Goreforge.

Oh yes, my pet Mastodon! I thought I felt the ground shake. "MAS-TO-DON! Down here! Please, please tell me you've come for the 'Call of Churl'"

 

[bradwoj]

Dayne tips his cap to the startled merchant and starts whistling a joyful tune. He's become accustomed to accidentally intimidating passersby in this land of halflings and three-quarter-lings (as he sometimes calls average-sized people), and finds that an upbeat melody makes him seem more approachable - or at least lets people know he's coming so they can dip out of the way. On this occasion, he's chosen The Blood Rains on Mortensterg, a favorite battle hymn of his tribe - his old friends were never quite so chipper as when they were plunging headfirst into a massacre.

As he heads over towards the Ranger's office, he hears a familiar, lilting voice calling for "Master Dawn." He places the source immediately - Diamanda, of course. She's the only one who calls him such a thing. He is flattered and a bit embarrassed to be referred to as Master; back in his tribe up north, he is still considered a novice fighter and just a passable druid. He's never known why she refers to him as Dawn - though he suspects it is because he is as warm and lovely as a bright spring day.

He changes direction and bellows, "Hullo Dee! Always a pleasure. I am indeed 'ere fer business - looks like we'll be werkin' together. And izzat Eldar o'er yonder makin' eyes at the barmaids agin?"

 

[Baba Luga]

"Yes, I believe that is Eldar, beneath the grime!"

He perfumed himself with a flagon of ale
then rouged his cheeks with a bully boy's buffets
powdered his hair with a tinfull of snuff
and cried, 'my lap is a barmaid's tuffet!'

 

[Podrus]

Eldar heard the barmaid speak to him and he laughed, brushing his knuckles against his own bruised cheek, still tender from his bouts at Clarence's and he shook his head, "I've always got time for you Violet, but last I checked I 'wouldn't be able to leave you' after we were through." He said with a laugh, putting his hand softly on the halfling's shoulder before looking around. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a pint around would ya? Something tells me I'm going to need it soon"

He laughed at himself before looking around and seeing his two companions speaking to themselves a ways away, eyes both on him as he heard them speak. Eldar still wasn't exactly sure what led to him being grouped up with the Shifter and....whatever Diamanda fancied herself that day, it always seemed to be a poet one day and a musician the next. But regardless, the group was almost gathered and despite his worries about them all, he wouldn't face off with the monsters of the world without them.

 

[Baba Luga]

"So we all got the same message from Churl? Fantastic! Do you think we'll leave today? Dar Othel at the armory said she has an old shortbow I can have. She just has to put a new string on it. Oh, and I'll have to reschedule Pentig Ulvold's tutoring session ... and that gig I have with Buffi Bright over at the Book and Banquet. Do we go in and talk to Churl right now? I mean, he can absolutely see us from the window."

 

[Pashalik Mons]

"He can see you from the window." Haunt says, sipping a whiskey sour. You notice he's leaning on a support pillar, staying just out of Churl's line of sight. "We should go in, though. Poor man's been waiting all day."

Haunt had spirited though the place a couple times, torn between not wanting to wait and not wanting to be the first one to show up. The last time he tried to leave, he ran into a guard who called him "Theodore" and wanted to question him about his involvement in a dogfighting ring near the docks. It took him a bit by surprise, Haunt hadn't used the name "Theodore" in months, but he was able to tell mostly the truth. He didn't like being involved in crimes where people saw you committing them, so he steered clear of dogfighting rings.

Still, afterwards he lost his taste for running around and spent a time nursing a drink and waiting to see who he'd get teamed up with. He had considered letting Churl see him, but wanted to give Violet the chance to earn a few brownie points with the info first. She was clever enough to out-maneuver a couple shoeblacks if she cared to.

 

[bradwoj]

Dayne was nearly as happy to see Eldar in the square as Diamanda - if there were a rare situation she couldn't charm their way out of, he knew Eldar would be ready and willing to turn things bloody. Many things about southern customs confused Dayne, but Eldar made him feel right back at home with the polar bear tribe.

This Haunt though... Dayne had only heard whispers about him, and in his experience whispers were only good for lies and insults. He worried about the kind of job that would require his particular "skills". Dayne wasn't much for subtlety and subterfuge. Still, Churl hadn't steered him wrong yet, and Dayne was always willing to let a man prove his worth before passing judgment.

"Hullo, friend! Pleasure ta meetcha. 'Spose we best go see Churl then and get on with it."

 

[Isikien]

@ Haunt, in private, assuming you were in the bar chatting with Violet at the time

As you sup from your flagon, Violet surreptitiously smiles and leans in close, her diminutive stature tipping over the bar. "Ah, some aspiring streetrats you say? Thank ye for the details. Manny'll keep a close eye on them." She counts the tender behind the bar. "Good to see the 'neighbourhood watch' around." She says cryptically, before reaching out and topping up your drink.


@ Diamanda

There's a hiss of disgust as you reunite with your compatriots outside in the courtyard. No sooner had your thoughts drifted to Goreforge than he had made himself known, sulkily polishing a crossbow under the eaves of a nearby building. He does not say anything to rebuke your joviality as a group, his eyes drift to your companions, particularly Eldar and Dayne, before he continues his maintenance sourly.

@ All

Violet addresses the majority of you, seeing an opportunity for a potential sale of drinks. "Your Captains been round today. Was drinking a bit more than usual, so if your Capt'n has been keen on the Ale then you lovely boys and girl should be too!" She says flirtatiously.

@All, assuming that everyone is going inside together

As you enter the building, Churl has already made his way to the Foyer of the building. He steadily eyes you all and grunts his salutations.

Churl is a strange man. A rather plain human, lacking in charisma and verve but making up for it with near-infinite stubborness and pig-headed self-discipline. Everything about this Ranger is clipped and literal, there's never been any subtlety to the way he operates. To say that his summons is out of character is an understatement.

He guides you all to a nearby room, provides you with vittles and drink, closes the mahogany door and sits down opposite you all. He takes his flat cap off and begins describing the scenario he alluded to in your letters.

"Some girl approached me the other day, an ex-member of the College of the Esteemed. She was discharged from her post recently for an expedition she led. A bookish sort, doesn't shut up,"

The Captain continues to reel off the events painfully without any charm or substantial wit. "The girl's got it into her head that she has to see the failed expedition through. Problem is its through the contested Orrel lands and through the Heather, about two to three weeks worth of travel. That is if we're being generous about how fast it can be managed and assuming part of the way can be travelled by Horseback."

"Her Draglish seems good, I don't see an issue with her negotiating with those local tribes when she steps in their lands. She's thinking of hiring some Orrel labourers once she reaches the Heather, but she says she wants an experienced escort this time to get her to this excavation site."

"The girl is crazy. That's why I'm talking to you now rather than forcing the assignment on you. This is a long trek and she's going to be kicking around in the backyard of a Clockwork Empire ruin."

He unfurls a long piece of parchment that has been arrayed for visual reference. Diagrams, pictures, written records and pinned charcoal rubbings of unknown script litter this massive page of parchment. He raises his eyebrows incredulously, as if witnessing the mess in front of him for the first time.

"She handed me this. I don't even know nor care for the details. But she tells me her last expedition failed due to some old weaponised artifacts belonging to the Empire at the dig site. She says they came alive and killed all the labourers. Of course, she dragged herself back to the city by hook and crook, then got fired soon after."

"The promissary notes she gave me I have been able to cash from the City Bank, so I have your payment nearby for all of you. That is, if you want to take it. I can't tell you much more other than the fact that this sounds like a dreamer's desperate wish to get a bunch of Rangers killed in some ridiculous ruin over the horizon." He furrows his brow. "The girl is throwing all her worldly possessions at us, her house is practically a deposit for our services. Just please make sure you don't let her get you all killed. I need the four of you for campaign season late spring, those Spiderlings to the south aren't going to wait like last year."

---

I've taken note of you guys riffing on each other's bonds, which is great.

You can, of course, ask the Captain anything or make moves that you feel could be appropriate for the scene.

You can also draw upon your experience as trackers and Rangers, you will have visited the places that Churl has mentioned before, with the exception of this mysterious Clockwork Empire Ruin.

You will also have extensive knowledge of the local region of Lluric. Anything further than that such as the Heather may require a Discern Realities or Spout Lore check, it is very far away and terrain or boundaries change like the seasons.

The Orrel peoples are Dragonborn, essentially fairly advanced tribal states that prioritize harmony with nature and the spirits of nature. They are not particularly hostile; most of the issues with Orrel comes from exiled nomads of their tribes within the territories and whenever a tribal conquest breaks out between two or more tribes. It can be to your advantage to stay apolitical when visiting... or could equally be beneficial to pull the strings a little bit between the tribes, if you are so inclined...

What's the plan everyone?

 

[Pashalik Mons]

"Worldly possessions, you say? And all we have to do is not die? Not to brag, but I've never died horribly. I'll take it."

 

[Baba Luga]

Diamanda's heart beats a bit faster. The Clockwork Empire! It's a pity for Churl he so lacks imagination and a sense of wonder. Clearly this "girl" is on to something, and possibly a kindred spirit. There'll be the whole overland journey to pick her brain about what she's found. And even if most of what she spouts is tall tales and fancy, that's still more swag for the songbag. Another wistful thought for that hurdygurdy she traded for her new fiddle--what better than a mechanical instrument for new songs about the old Empire?

"I'm in, of course," she says to Churl, and the others. "Have I mentioned that the Orinthians are among my areas of study, insofar as anyone knows anything about the old gearheads? Maybe we'll find out what really happened to the Marchoiness' wind-up bird, Dayne." She nudges Dayne playfully at this allusion to the tale she told him months ago.

"Assuming we're all going," she continues hopefully, "when, and where, do we meet our contractor? Dayne, I'm sure you'll want to talk to her and figure out what supplies we need, especially those a mere academic might overlook."

"I'm sure there are more questions for the Captain, after which, maybe I can loiter here just a bit longer and have a look at your parchment..."

 

[bradwoj]

Dayne's heart was racing, and it wasn't the promise of early payment - as a man who could get all he needed and then some from the land itself, he had very little interest in gold. Rather, the mention of the Clockwork Empire had set his mind racing. Diamanda had first told him tales about these metal creatures that move on their own, without a soul to speak of. At first he thought it preposterous, and then wondrous, and then utterly horrifying. Some kind of mockery of life, created by man... but if a machine can have life, what does that mean for man himself? These thoughts were too big for Dayne to wrap his brain around, but he found himself compelled to see it for himself. How would he react, he wondered, when he first saw one? Destroy it in a fit of rage? Gawk at it stupidly? Although Dayne could count on one hand the number of times he had been frightened, and all of those were before the age of eleven, he had a sinking suspicion those butterflies in his stomach weren't just excitement, this time.

Diamanda made a quip about the wind-up bird, a reference to the first time she had told Dayne about the Clockwork Empire. He'd responded with a scoff and said, "What's next, mechanical horses?"

"You have no idea," she's said with a smirk.

Well, he was about to get an idea, even if it costs him his life.

"Alrigh'. " he says gravely. "Alrigh'. Let's get to it, then."

 

[Podrus]

Eldar sat and listened to the Captain speak about what the mission would be, breaking it down little by little, all the while a grin forming on his lips as he heard about the dangers. All about these mechanical things that tore through the last group of laborers, and the thought of facing down a scaley or two only causing him to get more and more goosebumps. The thought of the battles he would have, the spoils he'd get from each one, and the strength that he would gather slowly and slowly, each a positive on his list as he thought about it all. He looked around at his compatriots and nodded, moving his flail so it now would rest with the chain around his shoulders, pommel on one shoulder, weapon on the other.

"Sounds like we'll finally get a good scrap" he said with a soft laugh as he kicked off of the wall he had been leaning against.

 

[Isikien]

@-all

"Good. Capable sorts. Eldar, keep it sheathed if you can when you're in the territories. I don't want an Orrel Foot scout passing word back to our outfit about 'Ranger Savagery'. You're keen, friend, but we need to maintain a good reputation. Don't waste your sword-arm on them unless you absolutely need to."

"Dayne, I need you to watch out for your unit. The Orrel always appreciate a fellow Druid and you traveling through will smooth things over for the city slickers, in case there's any accusations leveled against the expedition."

"Haunt..." He trails off. There is a look of consternation mixed with expectation on his face. "I er-, shouldn't have to say it. A lot of the boys and girls look up to you, you've got cat reflexes and a quick tongue." A look on his face indicates that he doesn't necessarily agree with what you do in your spare time, however, the Captain's not stupid. He's covered for you when Sergeant Hakeswill was generating hearsay in the Speaker's Tavern about your exploits, so you know that at least he's complicit. "Act in good faith and be honest of character, as I know you are."

"I've arranged a meet for all of us at The Brecons, in one of the back areas tonight. I'll be there. She's pushing for early light tomorrow, tells me she's more than prepared and that she's bought horses for the first leg of the journey. Obviously the Orrel lands are going to be tough to navigate by horseback and it'll be even harder once you reach the Heather, so try and encourage her to part ways with the Saddle if she looks like she's going to break her neck."

@Diamanda, in private

The Captain stretches out the parchment carefully. The rubbings look like they've faded slightly due to exposure from damp weather, but there might be something to it. It just depends on how well you connect the dots of the client's messy scrawlings.

You may roll for Spout Lore. Roll 2d6 + INT modifier.



Don't forget, to all others, you can ask to do rolls yourself if you think the situation calls for it. Just be aware that there's a risk associated with it.

The meeting following this is in an hour at the Brecons, so if anyone would like to do anything around the city, you may do so.

EDIT: Rolls for this segment

@Diamanda - The scrawlings don't give you anything cohesive, on the count of the faded rubbings having multiple connotations in Archaic Elvish. Amusingly, there's a daydream doodle by the author regarding high society dress belonging to the Clockwork Empire; including what appears to be a pinstripe dress complete with parasol accessory. The Archeologist you're being hired by appears to have a romantic soul.

@Dayne - Argh, confound it! You may've visited there so many times and yet it occurs to you that you can't immediately remember the rites, rituals and ceremonial greetings that the Orrel people have. Perhaps a romp in nature while you're on the way there might jog your memory.

@-Haunt - You don't need to look at tapestries or decorative urns to tell you what lies at the end of your expedition.

Some haggard explorer from overseas had been a regular Fence of exotic goods years ago. One year he came back sporting a face scarred with severe burns and blue discolouration. He claimed to be selling a spell-focus belonging to a Clockwork Construct in a tomb ruin he raided overseas, a palm-size sapphire-like gem.

You remember him saying, "It was the only one I could get. I got the drop on a similar construct from behind and struck near where the gem was seated." He had pointed to his face in the daylight. "I hit the bucket of gears so hard that its gem lit up and the whole construct exploded into fiery shrapnel. I was nearly blinded!"

Needless to say, the magic constructs sound rickety but oddly formidable in some ways. Whether this is true for where you're going is another thing entirely.

 

[Baba Luga]

"Interesting ... very interesting," says Diamanda to Churl, hoping to elicit a nonplussed expression from the captain. When it comes, she shakes her head and grins. "No sir, I don't understand it any better than you do."

"Wait a minute. You didn't mention her name. Is there a reason for that? Someone famous who doesn't want word of her presence here getting around?"

If the captain has nothing further to add, she says farewell for now, and heads over to the armory to find Dar Othel and see if she's finished stringing the short bow she promised Diamanda.

 

[Podrus]

Eldar heard the words directed at him and gave a slight nod before looking around at the group. He waited for the group to prepare themselves and he would head out with them, not having much more to say. Though, that familiar itch at the base of his neck returned, a smirk on his face as he thought about the battles he'd have soon.

 

[Pashalik Mons]

Haunt tells the others he needs to make a few preparations, but he'll meet up with them soon. Once on his own, he goes over his tools twice, and tries to make sure he's prepared for whatever trouble the dusty buckets of bolts can dish out.

 

[bradwoj]

Dayne is excited to return to the forest and to speak with others who share his passions. He wonders idly which form would most impress them - perhaps a reindeer to compare antlers with these southern druids' stags? Regardless, he pats his pockets to make sure he has everything he needs, finds them mostly empty, and sighs contentedly. "Back on th' road then! Let's at it."

 

[Isikien]

@All

It looks like the Captain is organisation the payment for all four of you. He has gone to the back room to prepare money for each of you. 400 Gold is provided to each of you in advance.

@Dayne, Eldar

The Captain eyes both of you. "Might need both of you around for this girl, so if you're waiting for people to prepare, you may as well come with me now in case she shows up." He says awkwardly. "Don't think I can stand being at a table alone with... uhhh... her."

@-Haunt

The Merchant quarter is just about winding up, it might be useful to go for a peruse with your money in case you need anything specific before they close up for good.

@Diamanda

Whilst replacing the treasury lockbox, the Captain thinks and responds to the best of his ability.

"She called herself Dana Lefe. I don't know if she's famous for anything; she didn't look like a girl of class. If anything, she looked as disheveled as a scout returning from a day's quick time march."

---​

Dar Othel, the Quartermaster, is sat chewing tobacco, sanding the flexible wood of the short bow's body. He blows off the shavings and rebinds the grip of the bow. "She's ready, girly," He says jovially, beaming at you with blackened teeth. "I restrung her as well as gave her a good going over. Grip was a bit slippery. Oh, and don't forget your bracer. Young Johnny came around recently complaining of pain in his arm but that's what you get when you don't wear a bracer."

He smiles. "Ol' Helbur came around recently. Got gossipy about cronyism and I had to shove him out before he got into full swing. Just thought I'd let you know that we don't all feel that way about you four. Especially Haunt. Boy did my girl a favour a while back even though he probably never realized it."

He swings a number of quarterstaves into the cabinet with his large, chiseled arms. "Captain tells me we're not going to see you guys for a while. I'll miss the tunes you play. Dayne's shapeshifting as well, the Penguin was funny when we went carousing that time. Watch for him too, lovey. Even those natives out in the Orrel lands know the value of gold better than him; don't want him squandering his well-deserved wealth."

Out of Character

For everyone that's shopping, a useful page is the equipment page starting from p. 162.

Here's a skill that might be useful if you're trying to find something that might be hard for the Lluric merchants to come by. They have pretty good smithies due to its mining trade, but their dungeoneering gear is a bit on the sparse side due to the Rangers removing the need for vigilante adventurers. The Quartermaster has pretty standard stuff, but nothing like healing potions or anti-toxins.

If you want to get hold of something that might not be readily avaliable:



EDIT: A question was asked about Encumbrance. You need to check your class under the corebook for the amount of items you can carry on your person. This is the basic rule involving Encumbrance (p. 39, pdf):



There are services you can get that will allow you to carry more (p. 163, pdf)



EDIT: Rolls for this segment:

@Diamanda

Dar looks through his stock. He has not taken the coin you've put on the table for him for the anti-toxin and the healing potion. On his return, you soon figure out why.

He has produced a potion and a small, powdery substance contained within a leather pouch.

He holds up the potion to the light and betrays its essence to your eyes. It appears to be more crimson than vibrant red compared to typical healing potions you have used and seen. "This is what's called a spoiled batch, girly. Some alchemist fella tried duping me by putting food dye in his potions when he made the sale to me. Unfortunately, I fell for it. The quality of this potion isn't as good as the real deal, but it works at the least."

"As for this," He picks up the pouch. "This is an old druidic method of anti-toxin. You need to mix the paste with water and apply it to the wound. You need to keep bleeding that wound so you can absorb the anti-toxin into your blood."

"It's a precise thing, I don't know if you've got the expertise for it so you're going to need someone else to apply it. Dayne might be a good fit; I heard that you need to be pretty precise with it and Druids are probably the best candidates."

"Just give me half of the value of these two items girly if you want 'em."

The cost of both items together total to 30 coins:

Stats for the Crimson potion:

- It functions the same as a normal potion, but the healing effect is diminished. It heals 5 points of damage, rather than 10. It can still remove a debility as normal if you choose to.

Stats for the Druidic Salve

- This salve has incredible anti-toxin properties, at the cost of possessing ingredients with hallucinogenic properties. - This must be administered by a Druid. If administered by anyone else, the patient must roll a Defy Danger WIS or INT save, or risk becoming impaired by the narcotic effects of the Salve.
- Whether the roll is failed or achieved, any poison in the patient's blood stream is neutralized.

@-Haunt

You ask yourself questions relating to what to buy for the foreseeable future:

1. What should I be on the lookout for?

They're constructs right? That's what you've heard through the grapevine. You know of a sly alchemist-merchant who occasionally sells in a small shack a bit further out from the docks. He's never managed to gip you out of coin like he has some other Rangers, but you recall that he had some preserved Rust Monster Carcasses hung from the wooden beams of his store... has he made a poison out of their foaming malaise?

2. What here is useful or valuable to me?

You remember as a youngster when the Paladin Ministry of Lluric was a much more commonplace affair. Paladins have infamously loose lips and are very easy to entrap into giving up juicy secrets. One Paladin boasted of his ingenuity in dealing with constructs to his buddies. "Yeah, you don't use slashing or piercing weapons on them you fool. They've got no darned flesh! You'd take ages that way. Hit 'em with a mace or something nice 'n blunt! Hell, even if you were a footpad, a Blackjack or a club would do!"

3. What is here that is not as it seems?

You know the stalls and the shops round here. The fletchers have been making a killing recently; turns out hunters and trappers aren't the only ones in need of a bow around the countryside. The agricultural business is booming around here more recently but Farmhands have been struggling with young Orrel natives that have been pilfering their grainstores.

You know as a ranger its not as clear cut as that; the Orrel communicate regularly with the Rangers to settle disputes and misunderstandings. However, it sounds like there are Orrel people that are increasingly falling out of favour with their elders and aren't respecting the covenant made between both Orrel and Lluric. This generally means skirmishes by disaffected youth, followed by pointless slaughter committed by both landowners and nomads.

 

[Baba Luga]

Checking all of her gear, Diamanda is well aware that she'll be able to carry precious little beyond what she's already got. Maybe a bag of natural history books would be more useful than this bow (and bracer!), but after all the trouble Dar's gone through for her, well that would just be rude.

Expecting the immanent sitdown with Dana Lefe to clear up what other equipment will be essential to the journey, for now she buys five trinkets she thinks the Orrel folk might appreciate, plus another, finer piece fit for an Orrel magnate. If halfling pipeleaf is available here, she'll buy a supply of that. Finally, she'll ask if Dar can hook her up with a healing potion and an antitoxin.

As an afterthought, she also purchases a bundle of crossbow bolts. With chalk, on the head of each of these, she scrawls assorted obscenities and stupid faces. She gives the bundle of ammunition back to Dar Othel with instructions to present it to Helbur Goreforge the next time he stops by, swearing the quartermaster to silence as to the purchaser of the gift.

That done, it's off to the meeting at the Brecons.

Spoiler: Purchases

Basic Purchases
5 peasant gifts (5g)
1 fine gift (55g)
1 pipeleaf (5g)
1 bundle of arrows (1g)
1 diminished healing potion (25g)
1 druidic salve (5g)

Total: 96g