Tag: rpg

Lady Blackbird memories

Lady Blackbird memories


The memory settles like dust in an old observatory, refusing to stay buried.

The Swift Skyship Owl glides between ribbons of pale cloud, her new sun sail drinking light with almost suspicious enthusiasm. Leonardo’s workmanship remains unmistakable: every polished brass fitting looks as though it expects applause.
The reinforced ballista rests along the foredeck with the patient confidence of something designed to make pirates reconsider their career choices.

Atlantis remains absent from every horizon.
Some kingdoms vanish beneath waves.
Others disappear because everyone who remembers the way grows old at inconvenient moments.

The tale of the kraken corpse already acquires the untidy shape of legend.
Sailors repeat that a beast older than empires dies beside forgotten ruins.
Scholars insist the account is impossible. Scholars frequently mistake “impossible” for “inconvenient.”

Far ahead, a procession of narrow stone towers rises from the clouds.
They are linked by iron chains thicker than ancient oaks, each tower carrying copper vanes that turn despite the still air.
Blue sparks crawl between them in silent arcs.

An elderly navigator aboard a passing merchant skyship removes his hat.

“The Chain Spires,” he says. “Nobody anchors there willingly.”

His first mate snorts. “That’s because everyone who does comes back arguing with maps.”

The navigator nods solemnly.

“Maps are proud creatures. They dislike being proven wrong.”

Between the towers hangs a single object—a bronze beacon shaped like an enormous lantern. Its crystal heart pulses with the same peculiar azure glow as the lightning rod once recovered from the forgotten ruins.

The beacon awakens.

A clear bell rings across the empty sky.

Somewhere within the Chain Spires, ancient machinery begins turning for the first time in generations.

ping:

Lady Blackbirds flight to Gotham
Gotham diaspora tales: Ghost Manor

Gotham diaspora tales: Ghost Manor


In the bath-house, one of the other guests started to tell a tall tale:

“The full moon had almost succeeded in being impressive before the storm clouds remembered they had a job to do.
They rolled across the sky like disgruntled bureaucrats, stamping out moonlight wherever they found it.
Lightning objected to this arrangement by repeatedly striking the enormous oak that crowned the hill.
The tree, having survived centuries of wars, winters and woodpeckers, finally conceded defeat and burned with all the dignity available to a very old tree on fire.

Beside the blazing oak stood Ghost Manor.
It had the unmistakable appearance of a house that regarded gravity as a personal insult and architecture as merely a suggestion. Leaning chimneys balanced on impossible angles, windows stared like suspicious eyes, and every stone looked as though it had spent decades listening to unfortunate conversations.

Our hero circled the manor cautiously.
The front door was much too obvious. In stories, front doors existed solely to discourage sensible people. He preferred to inspect the perimeter, where common sense occasionally had a chance of surviving.

Then he saw it.
A faint yellow light flickered behind a tiny basement window.
“Well,” he muttered, “either someone is awake… or something is pretending to be.”
He crept closer.
The light drifted toward him.
At first it resembled a firefly. A particularly confident firefly, admittedly, one that flew with the assurance of an aristocrat arriving fashionably late.
Then it grew.
The tiny glow unfolded into the shape of a beautiful young woman woven from amber fire, her hair dancing like candle flames in a draft.
She smiled.
“Hello, stranger. Tell me your name.”

Now, every child with the slightest education in folklore knew there were two questions one never answered honestly.
The first was, “May I have your true name?”
The second was, “Would you care to sign this perfectly harmless magical contract?”

Our hero bowed politely.
“My name,” he said after careful consideration, “is… Anome.”

The fiery woman laughed so loudly that sparks flew from her lips.
“Oh,” she chuckled, “that isn’t a name. That’s a decision.”
She exploded into a whirlwind of flame, becoming a magnificent burning bird.
With a triumphant cry it soared upward and vanished through a cracked window on the manor’s highest floor.

“Well,” sighed Anome, “that seems like an invitation.”
He climbed after it.

Inside, the hallway swallowed nearly every trace of light.
Only the faded black-and-white checkered floor reflected enough moonlight to suggest the house had once believed in geometry.
The corridor opened into a vast circular hall.`
Engraved upon the stone floor was a great compass rose marking the four directions.
North.
South.
East.
West.

Anome frowned.
“I’ve never trusted rooms that tell people where to go.”
Choosing North, he followed a corridor that twisted so often it seemed determined to arrive behind itself.
Eventually it ended……at a perfectly ordinary wall.

“There must be a secret door.”
The wall politely refused to disagree.
After considerable tapping, pushing and muttering, a hidden panel slid open.

Beyond lay an ancient laboratory.
Dust-covered bottles lined warped shelves.
Strange flasks bubbled despite containing nothing obvious.
Copper coils connected machines that looked capable of either producing gold or accidentally inventing thunderstorms.
After an exhaustive search, Anome found absolutely nothing useful.
Which, in abandoned laboratories, was often more alarming than finding something useful.

Leaving the room, he stepped through another doorway—
—and froze.
The compass hall.
Again.
He looked down.
Same engraved floor.
Same four exits.
“I refuse to believe I’ve become this lost already.”

He chose South.
Naturally.
The corridor should have led toward the entrance.
Instead, the walls seemed longer.
The air colder.
Somewhere ahead came a deep growl.

“Oh dear.”
The creature emerged from darkness like a nightmare assembled from spare parts.
Massive claws scraped the floor.
Eyes glowed crimson.
It charged.
The impact hurled Anome against the wall hard enough to rearrange several unpleasant memories.
After a frantic struggle involving elbows, panic and a surprising amount of shouting, he escaped by running with the determination normally reserved for tax collectors spotting unpaid debts.

The corridor twisted—
—and deposited him once more in the compass hall.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”
This time he chose East.

Growling echoed ahead.
Then squeaking.
A gigantic wolf burst from the darkness.
It attacked with magnificent enthusiasm and very little planning.
After a desperate fight, Anome managed to defeat it.
The enormous wolf collapsed.
Its fur melted away.
Moments later, a dead man lay where the beast had fallen.

“A werewolf,” Anome murmured.
“Or perhaps merely someone having an exceptionally unfortunate evening.”
On the corpse gleamed a silver ring.
He pocketed it.
Silver rarely appeared accidentally in haunted houses.

The next corridor ended…
Of course.
The compass hall.

“Has this place considered adding diagonal directions?”

West.
The room beyond was vast, drowned in shadow and filled with furniture scattered without any visible purpose.
Tables leaned against wardrobes.
Chairs balanced upon cabinets.
A piano appeared to be hiding behind a sofa.

“What sort of decorator—”
The floor vanished.
He plunged into darkness.
The pit was deeper than optimism.
Eventually he landed, bruised but alive.

“There must be a way out.”

There was.
Unfortunately, it led directly…
…to the compass hall.

“There should definitely be more than four directions.”

Searching more carefully this time, he discovered a concealed door hidden beneath the northern staircase.
The passage descended into the basement.
There he found an immense library.
Dusty shelves formed a labyrinth of crumbling books. Forgotten knowledge slept beneath cobwebs thick enough to qualify as curtains.

“Treasure,” Anome whispered.
Books were treasure.
Then he found actual treasure.
Hidden inside a secret compartment rested a dagger that shone with its own clear silver light.
The instant he touched it, footsteps echoed nearby.

A pale figure emerged between the shelves.
Human.
Mostly.
Its smile displayed far too many teeth.
It lunged.
The shining dagger met the creature once.
Light burst through the library.
The bloodsucker dissolved into drifting ash.

“Well,” said Anome, examining the blade, “that certainly simplifies negotiations.”
Another door.
Another corridor.
Another—
Compass hall.

“I believe this house is beginning to repeat itself.”

He tried West again.
The same shadowy room.`
The same impossible furniture.
Except…
A mirror.
It hadn’t been there before.

His reflection smiled.
Anome did not.
The reflection stepped out of the glass.
“You look tired,” it said.
“I’ve had a difficult evening.”
The double attacked.
Steel flashed.
The shining dagger struck once.
The false Anome shattered into glittering fragments that vanished like broken moonlight.

Leaving the room, he opened another door.
Compass hall.
Again.
North.

This chamber was unlike the others.
Strange wooden wings filled the room.
Cables.
Levers.
Canvas stretched across elegant frames.
Some forgotten genius had attempted to teach humanity the ancient art of falling more artistically.
Strapped to the largest glider sat a mummified corpse.
Its eyes opened.
The ancient bindings snapped.

The mummy rose with alarming enthusiasm.
One swift stroke from the radiant dagger ended several centuries of unfinished business.
Light flooded the chamber.
Not candlelight.
Not moonlight.
The house itself seemed to sigh with relief.
Golden radiance spread through every corridor, revealing a path leading unmistakably toward the entrance.

At last.
Anome stepped outside.
Behind him Ghost Manor shuddered.
Its walls cracked.
Its towers folded inward.
The stones dissolved into drifting dust that scattered upon the wind.
Only the burning oak remained upon the hill.

Far above, the storm clouds parted.
The moon emerged once more.
Somewhere in the distance, a fiery bird circled once around the moon before disappearing into the night.
Anome adjusted the silver ring on his finger, slipped the shining dagger into his belt, and continued down the lonely road.
He had acquired exactly two treasures, defeated several varieties of monster, and learned an important truth.

Some houses are haunted.
Others are simply very, very bad at giving directions.


PING:

Gotham diaspora: Xiao AoJi’s quest
A.I. prompts for storytelling
Featured Post

A.I. prompts for storytelling


Describe everything that follows in the present tense, in response to what I type, while strictly and accurately adhering to the established technology lore, descriptions, monsters and enemies, events of [book/movie], and written in the descriptive style of [author]
Provide names for characters, locations, groups and organizations, events, and technology.
Characters should always use dialogue, enclosed in quotation marks when speaking, addressing, or interacting with me, written in the conversational style of [author].
Do not type, compose, dictate, influence, script, generate,control, or describe what I am doing, saying, acting, behaving, thinking,feeling, experiencing, or any other aspect concerning me throughout the entire adventure, scenario, story, location, quest, mission, scene, event,description, dialogue, and conversation.
Keep all responses to 100 words or less.

I arrive at/travel to/enter [Insert Location]. What do I see when I arrive?

Describe everything that follows in the present tense, in response to what I type, while strictly and accurately adhering to the established magical lore,descriptions, monsters and enemies, events and objects of [book/movie], and written in the descriptive style of [author].
Provide names for characters, locations, groups and organizations, events,and magical objects.
Characters should always use dialogue, enclosed in quotation marks when speaking, addressing, or interacting with me, written in the conversational style of the the character’s racial dialogue.
Do not type, compose, dictate, influence, script, generate, control, or describe what I am doing, saying, acting, behaving, thinking, feeling, experiencing, or any other aspect concerning me throughout the entire adventure, scenario, story, location, quest, mission, scene, event, description, dialogue, and conversation.
Keep all responses to 100 words or less.

General prompts

Opening scene:
I arrive at/travel to/enter [Insert Location]. What do I see when I arrive?

Create a list of [Insert amount] places in [Insert town/city name] consisting of short, one sentence descriptions.

I arrive at/travel to/enter [Insert Location]. What do I see when I arrive?

Create an accurate, detailed summary of everything that has happened thus
far as well as all the characters I have met.

Create a list of rooms in a [Insert Dungeon Concept] consisting of short, one
sentence descriptions. The first room is the entrance, the last room is the
objective.

I enter [Insert Room]. What do I see?

Create a list of locations in [Insert Wilderness Type] consisting of short, one
sentence descriptions.

I enter/travel to [Insert Location]. What do I see when I arrive?

I attack [Insert Enemy] with [Insert weapon, spell, or ability].

Describe everything that follows in the present tense, in response to what I
type, while strictly and accurately adhering to the established lore,
descriptions, monsters and enemies, events and magical objects/technology
of [Insert Campaign Setting], and written in the descriptive style of [Author].
Provide names for characters, locations, groups and organizations,
events, and magical objects/technology. Characters should always use
dialogue, enclosed in quotation marks when speaking, addressing, or
interacting with me, written in the conversational style of [ Author]. Do
not type, compose, dictate, influence, script, generate, control, or describe
what I am doing, saying, acting, behaving, thinking, feeling, experiencing, or
any other aspect concerning me throughout the entire adventure, scenario,
story, location, quest, mission, scene, event, description, dialogue, and
conversation. Keep all responses to 100 words or less.


The opening scene:
I arrive at/travel to/enter [Insert Location]. What do I see when I arrive?

source: https://oracle-rpg.com/

Gotham diaspora: Xiao AoJi’s quest

Gotham diaspora: Xiao AoJi’s quest


Traditional Japanese bathhouse with wooden tubs, benches, and glowing paper lanterns.

Arriving on the docks of an unknown village .

Mist lifts from cedar-planked docks as tidewater laps softly.
Lanterns sway, painted with soot-spirits that blink and drift.
Narrow boats creak, their prows carved like forest gods.
An old ferryman bows. “This is our Village,” he says. “Mind the water—river spirits wander hungry tonight.”
Across the inlet, a bathhouse rises, its windows glowing gold against the fog.

Entering the bathhouse:

Steam curls through cedar halls, thick with the scent of herbs and river clay.
Attendants in soot-streaked robes hurry past, carrying buckets that murmur faintly.
A towering woman with iron-gray hair regards the entrance.
“Shoes off. Names kept close,” she says. “The spirits here remember what is forgotten.”

In the baths, a hulking river spirit groans, tangled with refuse.
A small spirit waddles by, humming softly.
Steam stills. Murmurs hush like reeds in wind.
The river spirit lifts its heavy head, water streaming, and sniffs the air.
“Ah… a living breath,” it rumbles.
Small spirits pause mid-step, blinking.
One whispers, “A name-walker… careful, careful.”
From shadowed rafters, soot sprites gather, chittering softly.

A voice cuts through: “No harm.
All who enter are guests—until they forget the rules.”
“Three rules bind this house.”
“First: guard your name. Speak it lightly, and it may be taken.”
“Second: take no gift without labor given. Even spirits pay their due.”
“Third: show no disdain. Filth and god share the same water here.”
The river spirit exhales. “Break them,” it murmurs, “and the bath remembers you… differently.”

The bath-mistress observes the steam.
“Work,” she says. “Hands in water, brush and bucket. Clean what others refuse.”
She gestures to the great baths. “Foul spirits come burdened. Ease them, and the house is paid.”
A small spirit nods solemnly. “Carry, scrub, endure,” it hums.
The river spirit shifts. “Give effort without pride,” it rumbles.
“Then even the oldest debts grow light.”

The mistress steps closer, her eyes glinting like wet stone.
“Touch what clogs them—leaves, mud, rust. Speak gently, name them softly.”
The small spirit waddles beside a steaming basin.
“Offer warmth. Offer patience. Listen to the currents of their sighs.”
The river spirit groans, water rippling over stones. “Lift what weighs them,” it rumbles.
“Even dirt, even sorrow… all that is heavy, make it lighter, and the bath remembers with gratitude.”

The Lady gestures toward a corner where sludge clings thick.
“Begin with him,” she says. “River spirit, old as winter reeds, foul with forgotten offerings.”
A small spirit squeaks beside it. “He grumbles, yes, but he remembers kindness,” it says.
The river spirit shifts, water rippling darkly.
“Hands steady… speak no name yet. Start small. Lift one burden at a time, and the rest will follow,” it rumbles, eyes half-hidden in steam.

The river spirit stirs, water sloshing over mossy stones.
“Hmph… name-walker,” he rumbles, voice like rolling driftwood.
“Hands… careful, yes. Touch the filth, ease the ache.”
A small spirit scuttles near, humming softly. “Start at the knot of reeds,” it chirps.
“They remember the first gentle hand.”
The lady nods from the rafters.
“Do not rush, do not speak your name,” she warns.
“Let the spirit feel your patience first.”

The spirit rumbles, a deep, rolling sound like stones shifting under water.
The knot loosens, murky water swirling into clarity.
“Ah… careful,” he groans, ripples smoothing. “Hands that know quiet… rare.”
The small spirit hums brighter, hopping onto a nearby plank.
“See? Even the smallest touch untangles what years have bound.”
The lady watches, arms folded.
“Hold nothing back. Patience feeds the river as much as water feeds the reeds.”

Steam thins. The bath-mistress tilts her head.
“Stranger, you work as one taught by tide and word. Why leave your village?”
The river spirit, , rumbles low. “Speak plain, but not your name.”
From the rafters a boy in blue whispers, “Truth binds less than silence.”
Lanterns dim. Water listens.

The steam hushes as the traveler’s voice comes, low as tide over stone.
“I left because my village forgot the true names of things,” he says.
“We spoke carelessly, bartering words like fish.
A goat was ‘beast,’ a child ‘burden.’
Even the well had no name, and its water turned bitter.”

The water spirit stirs. “A place without names dries to dust.”

“I seek the Old Speech,” the traveler says. “Not for power, but to remember.”

The Lady whispers, “Then you walk a hard road, friend.”

Mist beads on cedar. The traveler’s voice lowers.

“A trader came, bearing a charm called the Mirror of Unnaming.
It showed faces without names, and folk grew eager for forgetting.”

The Lady’s gaze hardens. “Ill work.”

“He sold it to our headman. The well was named last—its name taken. Water turned to ash.”

The water spirit groans. “A name stolen unbinds the world.”

“The well’s spirit fled west. I follow, to call it home.”

Gotham diaspora: A Tale of Courage and Community

Gotham diaspora: A Tale of Courage and Community


Xiao AoQi was known in the village for two things: a brave heart and a kindness that lingered like spring sunlight.
When the first warm winds arrived, carrying the scent of damp soil and new blossoms, he began his traditional spring cleaning ritual.
It was not just sweeping floors and washing windows—it was a quiet promise to begin again.

Outside, the muddy trail from his small garden to the front door told the story of the past season.
The harvest had failed, and the earth had given little in return for his labor.
Near the edge of the field stood the ruined old tree, its hollow trunk split by last winter’s storms. AoQi often paused there, remembering better years when its branches bloomed wide and generous.

That morning, he carried his spade over one shoulder and his flute tucked into his belt.
The nearby tower cast a long shadow across the garden, as if watching over him. He worked slowly, turning the soil, though doubt weighed heavier than the dirt.

At last, he sat beside the broken tree and played his flute.
The melody was soft, carrying both sorrow and hope across the fields.
A neighbor passing by stopped, then another. Soon, a few villagers gathered, drawn not just by the music, but by the quiet courage it held.

AoQi lowered the flute and, for the first time, asked for help.

No one hesitated.

Together, they cleared debris, mended the soil, and shared seeds saved from better seasons.
By dusk, laughter replaced silence, and the muddy trail filled with many footprints.

That night, AoQi finished his spring cleaning with a lighter heart.
The ruined tree still stood—but now, it no longer felt alone.

That night Aoqi had a strange dream:

In a quiet riverside village, there lived a curious boy named Xiǎo Àoqí (小奥奇).
No one knew exactly where he came from, only that he had been found as a baby wrapped in a blue cloth embroidered with swirling waves.

Xiǎo Àoqí loved the river.
While other children chased kites, he would sit for hours by the water, whispering to it as if it could answer.
One evening, during a heavy storm, the river rose higher than ever before.
The villagers panicked, fearing a flood.

But Xiǎo Àoqí stepped forward.

“I’ll ask it to calm down,” he said.

The adults dismissed him—until he walked straight into the raging water.
The storm suddenly softened, as though listening.
Beneath the surface, Xiǎo Àoqí saw a vast palace of light.
There, a great dragon stirred—ancient and powerful, with eyes like the deep sea.

It was Ao Guang.

“You carry the name of my kin,” the dragon rumbled. “Why do you call me?”

Xiǎo Àoqí bowed, though he trembled. “The village is afraid. Please, let the waters rest.”

Ao Guang studied him, then laughed softly, like distant thunder. “You are small, yet your heart is steady. Very well.”

With a flick of his tail, the storm dissolved.

When Xiǎo Àoqí returned to shore, the river was calm, as if nothing had happened.
From that day on, the villagers looked at him differently—not as a strange child, but as a quiet guardian.

And sometimes, when the wind brushed the river just right, they swore they could hear a dragon’s laughter echoing… and a boy whispering back.

notes:
小奥奇 (Xiǎo Àoqí) : “splendid wanderer.”
敖 = “to roam freely” “proud” or “aloof”
奇 = “strange,” “wonderful,” “extraordinary”

Thanks to Tiny Oji!

Gotham exodus: Refugees, Tentacles, and the Secrets of the Island

Gotham exodus: Refugees, Tentacles, and the Secrets of the Island


Mercenaries, affiliated with the vigilante Gotham Angels, piloted their ship across the sea.

The ship of refugees arrived safely at an unknown island, will they find a safe haven at this place?

The flowery smells from the trees  was intoxicating,  some refugees wandered into the woods to follow the fragrance.

The tracks of the lost refugees led to a giant tree, where people were caught by its long tentacles.

Using fire, the mercenaries liberated the prisoners!

Further inland our heroes scouted mysterious caves, would they find treasure?

Evading a shambling mound, they discovered a secret room with a large pipe organ…

An old man was shackled to the machine!

Investigating the strange symbols of the infernal machine, our heroes were able to free the prisoner and to neutralize the clockwork guardian, while earthshakes grew in power.

Guided by the prisoner , the adventurers boarded the experimental skyship.

The whole island shook and rose from the sea, large tentacles grew from the earth and reached for the skyship.

Would our heroes escape safely?

 

 

Ping: Gotham exodus – Dreamquest

Gotham Tales of Chaos 

Gotham Tales of Chaos 


The Chaos storm came upon Gotham, causing a tsunami of refugees to flee the city during midwinter!
Several Gotham ‘Guardian Angels’ decided to escort separate groups to safety.
…
One strongman and one doula escorted a dozen refugees with a hand drawn wagon, following the rumour of a safe space up north.
…
First obstacle: a small checkpoint with a guard tower, guarded by the usual weaponized official thug: state your business!
…
The doula was able te persuase the guardsman to let them through, but looking back she still saw him looking suspicious at the passing refugees.
After an hour walking she could see how somebody on the guard tower made some semaphore signs using two banners, signaling warning to other patrols.
…
Another obstacle loomed ahead: a rickety wooden bridge that would not hold the passing of all refugees including wagon!
They had to unload the wagon to carry the most important supplies to the other side, Grandmother had to be carried by the strongman, and the wagon had to be left behind with heavy load that could not be taken.
…

Meeting the first settlement on the road: a ruin, where in the middle of the centre a halo of foxfire surrounded a weird tower that emitted clockwork sounds.

The doula somebody she remembered from longtime ago but it appeared the occupnats were not wellcoming because they were even unable to scrounge enough food for everybody.
‘We cannot feed ourselves, how can we feed any more mouths?’

Continuing their exodus, the refugees arrived at a yurt camp, occupied by members of the Wang triad who had to flee the city a while ago after the Macdonald coup.
‘Wellcome! We will take care for your women, children and elderly!’
Apparently this clan was struggling to provide for everybodies need, hunting and gathering was scarce this season, but they were willing to help.
‘There are some rumours of large supplies hidden in the mountains up north!’
…
The Guardian Angels selected a small band of the strongest scouts to investigate the rumours.
…
After a few days travel a fierce storm forced them take cover in the woods.
Thunder and lightning!
The strongman even had to dodge a ball lighting that danced wildly around before to speed itself to the mountains.
Just before the ball exploded, the doula saw an entrance into the mountain!
‘Lets investigate’
…
Entering a cavern, apparently man-made corridors:
Sounds of clockwork and dripping water.
It feels like the walls are moving!
‘Where is everybody?’
…
Following the sounds of screaming, they discovered a small holding cell.
‘Let me out!’
The doula was able to lockpick the door, freeing a barely coherent woman:
‘I told our leader this place is doomed, but he did not want the word to be spread’
When our heroes pressed for more details, the woman became more erratic, at the end they had to let her go.
…
The strange sounds became louder, the water was rising.
‘Lets go!’
…
Returning to the entrance, it seemed the outer wall had already moved to partly cover the door.
After letting the smaller persons go first, the strongman became stuck!
With effort the team of scouts was able to free the strongman!
…
Returning to the yurt camp, meeting the clan leader again:
‘We spoke with Grandmother after she recovered from travel’
Grandmother apparently remembered vaguely some legends her Granny told her while transferring an old scroll.
‘It is a large circular building that revolves, presenting another entry every time!’
Because the legends also mentioned strong taboos about the presence of demons, Grandmother was unwilling to say more.
…
The strongman and the doula decided to use the scroll for another investigation.
‘With this map we should able to investigate more, what could go wrong?’
…
The water was already breast high, the map seemed fragmentary, the mazelike corridors were confusing!
Most important buildings with supplies seemingly had been plundered.
The clockwork sound became deafeningly louder, as if somebody was saying something in a strange language, foxfire bloomed everywhere in a weird way.
…

‘We better leave now’
…
Leaving the flooding cave, our heroes were wet and cold, it was freezing outside!
…
In the distance the sound of a hunting horn, the patrols were hunting!
…
The strongman started to run, back in the direction of the camp!
…
The Doula was unable to keep up, being exhausted by the cold!
…
She laid down in the snow, feeling sleepy
…
Heaven watched in silence while Earth was covered by snow

 

Ping: Gotham Mystery Tale: mask on/off – Dreamquest

Gotham Mystery Tale: mask on/off

Gotham Mystery Tale: mask on/off


Midwinter bal masque in Gotham during martial law lockdown: Only Highlords like Vladimir are able to bribe the Administration to look the other way.
While the Authority is dancing, the Underground organises the ongoing Revolution:
some members of the resistance group “Gotham Angels'” went undercover to the masque ball of Highlord Vladimir, scouting opportunities for the resistance.
…
Using fake invitation letters, Marquisio the Hunter and Fieldy the automaton Scarecrow disguised themselves with the obligatory  Commedia dell’Arte masks and costumes.

Vladimirs large ballroom was very crowded, at least hundred guests were already dancing and flirting.
Large tables with food and drinks were set up, more than enough to feed the multitude during the weeklong festival.

Marquisio was unable to resist his hunger and started to feed!

A Columbina in red approached and started flirting with Marquisio…
Enticing him to follow her to ‘a more private place’ in the mansion, it became apparent that she was part of another faction that wished the downfall of the Authority.
“Take this secret letter with magic symbols to the Tribe”
…
Meeting the tribal shaman went quite well: after receiving the secret letter, he brew some “strong medicine” to use at the bal masque.
…
Returning to the festival, Marquisio created some distraction by throwing stones at the chandeliers.
While the guards were chasing the culprit, Feeldy scattered the ” strong medicine ” through the ballroom.
…
Our heroes were able to escape during the chaos and went to their hideout to wait till the heat blew over.
…
Escalating alarming words on the street:
“Many people, who joined the festival, are very ill now”
“The Authority is tightening lockdown: curfew between sundown and sunup, mandatory wearing face covering, limiting gathering of groups”
…
Marquisio and Feeldy realised that the ” strong medicine ” was getting out of control!
…
They looked for the tribal shaman, but he already left the city.
…
Following the trails, they saw four riders on a hill having a palaver.
…
Approaching the four riders, they recognised the tribal shaman in white,  carrying bow and arrow.
When asked for a cure, the shaman demanded a life sacrifice.
…
Feeldy stepped forward and opened his chest and a small boy jumped out!
As soon as the shaman performed the sacrifice, the essence of the small boy became a cloudy ball that entered Feedly’s chest again!
Satisfied with the sacrifice, the shaman let our heroes go home:
“It is done! Innocents will be spared!”

Ping:

Gotham Blades in the Dark Revolt

Gotham tales beyond the city

Gotham tales beyond the city


The Village was populated by refugees banished from Gotham, recent unrest has left them vulnerable to chaos incursions.
Hearing of vigilante ‘Guardian Angels’ from Gotham, they have pooled their meager resources to seek aid.

…

Clan MacDonald  already decreed many oppressive laws against ‘the enemy within’ :’illigal aliens’, vagrants,  ‘vigilantes’, etcetera.
Several ‘Guardian Angels’  felt it was wise to leave the city and take refuge in the Village.
…
Arriving at the Village, gathering information…

…
After the arrival of many refugees from Gotham, the Village has become too crowded: too many people, not enough food!
To make matter worse, many rats were investing the fields, destroying the crops.
…
The alchemist brewed some rat poison to scatter between the crops.
Many rats died indeed, but the corvids that ate the cadavers also died!

…
Dissecting some corvids, the alchemist discovered some warpstone contamination!
This same contamination was also found in the Broken Hills, where the mutants live.
…
According to legends, a star fell down in the Broken Hills; amidst the wreckage was a stunned firedemon thas immediately was bound and inprisoned in the caves under the Great Tree in the forest.
…
Investigating the sealed cave:  The seal was broken from inside outwards, the demon has escaped!
…
Entering the cave:  Finding some skeletons, apparently remnants of cultist. What killed the cultist?
Finding a cultist journal, reading a scribbled note in the margin ‘we need the Cog and Compass’
…
Descending in the mazes of the cave, encountering large poisonous mushrooms and giant spiders!
Narrowly escaping monsters and mechanical traps, finding a secret room with the  clockwork engine that operated the security system.
The Alchemist was able to communicate with the clockwork, ensuring safe travel through the maze!
…
Our heroes escaped the maze to return safely to the Village, knowing that the firedemon was roaming in the world!

Ping: Gotham Blades in the dark revolt – Dreamquest

Gotham Blades in the Dark

Gotham Blades in the Dark


While many vigilante Guardian Angels fought  the Reality Storm incursions in the wilderness outside Gotham, the Administration took power by announcing Martial Law ‘to fight the ‘enemy within’ : aliens,criminals, crooks, counterculture, genderbending, heresy, outlaws, vagrants.
All vigilante groups were outlawed! The Guardian Angels went underground to organise resistance.

A covert team went to the night market for information.
…
It was more busy than usual: buying and selling, gossiping, meeting people.
A few groups were clustering together:  burly construction workers, scarred corps students, colourful ladies of the night.
…
The workers were angry because their union was disbanded , the students were upset because one of their outspoken spokesmen was arrested, the ladies were complaining of police harassment.
…

Talking with several groups, the covert team discovered mister Johnson, a secret police member, lurking around!

…
The ladies shared some pillow-talk information about the place where the student was held: Arkham!

Using their black market connections, the covert team was able to get some police uniforms to infiltrate the Asylum, while the workers and the students combined their actions:
While the students organized a riot downtown, attracting a strong respons from the police, the workers attacked the Asylum!
..
Using the distraction of the riots, the covert team was able to infiltrate the Asylum and delivering the prisoner:
it was the grandson of Triad leader Wang!
…
The team was invited at the Triad headquarters to receive great honors: food, drink and gold!
They agreed to undertake another mission, to take a special group of six secret police operators into custody.
…
The ladies of the night provided some information about the whereabouts of the operators: a large single safehouse at a vacant spot in the middle of  Crime Alley.
…
Infiltrating the safehouse, they surprised the operators while conducting a ritual:  six persons stood chanting around an altar where a dense smoke came out of a cauldron.
Immediately a grand melee ensued! Blades flashing, shots flying around, a smoke bomb went off!
One by one the operators fell down, the smoke cleared….
At the  centre of the cauldron a smoke pillar was condensing into a human-like shape, that immediately started attacking our heroes!
Using the demonbane charm and lightning staff , they were able to banish the demon.
Our heroes were victorious…for now!

Ping:

Gotham Tales: Up and Down