THE AUTUMN QUARANTINE VOYAGER

 

THE AUTUMN QUARANTINE VOYAGER
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The Pathfinders of Henlbyd

MIA
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Title:  The Thumble Letter. Issue 8 - "Henlbyd and Related Parts"

ID: SQLP34297 - 023241

Creator: "The Duchess Burngand." (Pen Name. Actual Identity Unknown.)

Date: November [step] 1, 3101

Physical Description: Pamphlet (4'' x 4'', delicate text printed on pages of treated featherwick, "thumb"-sized, square indents at the corners of each page indicate mass production via autonomous lockway stamp)

Citation: Square Archival, Bunk 103, Jarl Packet, Stone 7, OID#LLI25 - "Archive Documents (Starbank #6)"

Restriction: Mid O.T. 

Content:

“...

    ...

            ...

    It is well known that the lifeblood of Henlbyd runs not through natural chutes, but along tracks of polished steel. You will hear the chariot of their state before you see it: its wyl-whistle strikes the mind as a bullet ricocheted off helmet brow, and it approaches. Metal mass, engines spit firing, step cycling. The air is alive, gilded and star-steam dancing. 

    This is the monster of the rail, the inverted solar queen, the ENGINE. A rotary locomotive of great size. One of the world's few. Five exist, each with a rich history and devoted engineering corp. Oh, the interested reader may lose themselves in the theory behind these devices for years. The pragmatic reader need only understand this: they are the key that has unlocked Henlbyd prosperity. 

    The ENGINE is that which traverse the Hollow Hall, that endless maze of cavernous cliffs, pockmarked stone faces, and death drops that define our world's largest and most perilous mountain range, but who walks before the ENGINE? Who blazes the first path, finds the safe routes through that treacherous wilderness. 

    The Pathfinders.  

    They are a solitary few. For years they range along developing paths, noting areas of sturdy bedrock, solid cliffs, overpasses strong enough to support the great girth of the ENGINE. When you see the great bridges of the Henlbyd rail, the courses winding in the sheer, open air between blasted mountain peaks, know that these are not divine things, but human made. 

... 

... 

..." 

 

 

“...

    ...

            ...

    Children in Henlbyd are named according to what is possible, considering the parentage. A child may have a name for each parent. Two names is common, three less so, and four is rare. Not quite rare, mind. In Henlbyd society, child-rearing is a communal enterprise. Good friends will sometimes band together in order to care for a youth that is the biological child of a single member of the group.  

    Family names are not carried through to verbal identification. This is considered irrelevant information, almost too personal to be shared. The community of Henlbyd is so small, so narrow, that this type of relational awareness is implied or, of course, already known. Material determination of familial line can be found in the written form. If no mark is given after the personal names, the family name can be identified by the first letter of each of the personal names taken in series. If a full stop (dot) is given after the name, the family information is Default - i.e. it can be discovered through petitioning of a state clerk.

     MIA (or Mia), the famous Pathfinder, provides both an example of the Default and a segue to our next topic. Mia was born as Miatalt Miator Mhaltapyd Tempat. Her parents were a group of five - one declined to add a name to the child, and all agreed that the Default should apply in case of future separation. Upon entrance to the service, she was given the moniker "Mia," which soon transformed into the field sign "MIA" (bastardized as M.I.A.) This forceful shortening of the name is not practiced by the civilian population. In the day-to-day, a lengthy name is pared down to just one name in the full set. That single name may change throughout the week (Mia may have been "Miator" on Monday, "Tempat" on Wednesday, "Miatalt" on Friday, and "Mhaltapyd" on Sunday).

... 

... 

..."  

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Mars Mara and the Nail Witch

 

Castelle's Revenge
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Title: Aware and Away, Four, Chapter 17 [excerpt st. pg. 222] 

ID: SQLP0093 - 136221

Creator: Sator, Dame Ablehm 

Date: December 16, 2981

Physical Description: Booklet (5'' x 3'' x 2'', dull cyan cover, saturated tan typeface, interior pages of deeper cyan) [contained within Set Four along with chapters 1-201 (AuRet Sys: R1C4D3)]   

Citation: Square Archival, Bunk 001, Cacophony Packet, River Set, #623, A.9.3, C* - "Major Manuals"

Restriction: Dense T. 

Content:

"Mars is a name steeped in myth. It hurtles through story, legend, truth like a great Surpass Ship gone skyward - teetering on a faster-than-light precipice, then tipping, sink-scattered, and after a silent, cacophonous shatter, a million tunnels of winking prismatic waste thrown through the reaches of space and time. It is such - tangent, unknowable, potent in its many settings.

So it was with Starbank. The name Mars meant war [to them] (as it often does). Not war as a vague symbol, a violent spectre, but as the fist of one known and dead. Desdaom Squire. Hers were red banners. High, snapping at the wind howl and gunmark. She concocted a bureaucracy of conflict, a brutal, social machinery built on the corpses of kingdoms conquered. That tradition - that ingrained thought - was carried through Starbank history by spartans and sects, flash empires and institutions eternal, to the modern day. It was called “Mars Mara”, and we (from our modern, genteel perspective) can liken it to the broad social levelers we are familiar with: the desire for children, the sense of shared accomplishment/companionship one finds in contributing to a common cause, national pride, the desire to win a competitive challenge… to the people of Starbank, the Mars Mara was among these things - a path one could take, an experience that could be lived.

I have devoted the rest of this chapter to a lengthy recording of notable groups/works/themes/figures in Starbank history embodied by the Mars Mara. The Desdoam Heirs (a term used by local historians from ~3200 to ~3500) were...  

...

... 

The Mars Coptence

At the time of their popularity in local legend, the Mars Coptence were relicts, remnants of the War, one minuscule fragment of that great beast’s corpse. Now adrift. We can call these creatures what they were - Sparing Square Occupants, one class of the many Triple-Dense artificial intelligences brought to, and eventually built on, Starbank's surface - but to the people of the planet (and in the later era of which we speak), they were creatures like any other.

Tall, humanoid, sentient creatures. Pale and pitch smoke steaming off halocap pores. That sweet smell, of a caged thermal cycle, and perfume packets pumping to compensate. Paneled ceramic, bundlewhim joints, contoured to fit the aesthetic design of some long-forgotten custodial engineer. The Mars Coptence traveled alone and carried several hermetically sealed cases. Within these, a release from disease: Pastel Mastodon, that pathogen of ethanol white. Highly addictive.

They established themselves a mile or two outside the limits of a city. Rumor would spread, petitioners would come. The Mara Coptence offered power, for a price. To take the Mastodon was to know strength - a body immune to disease and age, a heart quickened and a power gained. It was also to take the nail, for the Coptence administered the pathogen by nailing a pure sample straight through the breast. Few survived the initial administering. Those that did enjoyed three years of strength - weapons of Pastel (the archetypal dagger and stone), speed, power - while their body grew more and more dependent. And then, at the end of those three years, another nail. Another three years. Another nail. This cycle... or death. So addled would the body be, that the absence of the Mastodon would mean rampancy and decay.

Those that followed this track were called Nail Witches - horrible, amoral, always chasing the next conflict. Career soldiers. The greatest slight one could commit against a member of this class was to prevent them from renewing their lease, from claiming another nail. Such was the case with Later Castelle, a veteran Nail Witch and enemy of the Southmarch Bastion. So the story goes: one day, a splinter group of Southmarch tradeswomen conspired to slay the Mars Coptence that lingered outside of the city’s borders. They did this just as Castelle was preparing to accept a third nail. At least six months' journey from the next great city and with only a month of power left, Castelle was doomed. Her vengeance was swift and… horrible..." 

 

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The Signal Bearer

I got a little lazy with the coloring and failed to finish rendering her mallet! Hopefully the lineart gets the idea across. 

The Signal Bearer

The Signal Bearer
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Title: Southmarch - Questions and More Questions, Vol. 5

ID: SQLP05933 - 991270

Creator: Maker, Judica O.

Date: October [step] 1, 3101

Physical Description: Magnetically sealed rectangular case (6'' x 2'' x 2'', filleted edges, polished stone (pale) paneling, aquamarine (rich) padded interior) [data received via ingrained-access burst, encoded in a complex knit texture woven into the padding material] 

Citation: Square Archival, Bunk 007, Query Packet, Corner Clive, #8211 - "Starbank, Region Specific (Year Agnostic)"

Restriction: Dense O.T. 

Content:

    “... It became necessary in Southmarch’s early years to develop a countermeasure for these massive storms. The sight of its pallid girth roiling over the peaks, down the midbanks, of the Part-Said Range was enough to cause rioting in the streets. Before the establishment of the Signal Bearers, such an event would mean the deaths of some 97% of the non-Bastion populace. The frigid winds, their crystalline grip, fell into the valley - the streets - mere moments after cresting the ring of mountainous structure encasing the city. No time to escape. 

    Some important points about the Signal Bearers: 

• It is not by some Outer Magic that the Signal Bearers detect the presence of an approaching storm. It is, rather, that they are able to see over the lip of the border peaks from their towers, which stand some 1,500 feet tall and are said to be among the tallest buildings in all of Starbank. From this vantage, they are able to note a storm’s advance well before it makes crestfall with the city.  

• The great, booming note of the Signal Bearer’s flat-drum does not travel to the ear as other sound does (through the curious quivering of unseen air). Rather, it gathers about the tower’s upper levels like some windswept burst held still, then falling as a clumping, dewy mist that wets the earlobe and brow.  

• The Signal Bearers do not, like the typical Southmarch citizen, shelter inside to protect themselves from the storm’s icy bite. The height of their towers makes this impossible - when the winds envelop the upper chambers, those resting within sit scant few feet removed from the very heart of wintry madness. To avoid certain death, the Signals Bearers shunt their Inner and Outer selves into the three-tunneled redwrit inscribed on their vestments. This text is clip-anchored (or fall-deadened) by the twin bands of pure roseway wrapped about the Signal Bearer’s right and left arm. The severity of the resulting Handshake Collapse is enough to send their mortal forms into a deep, protective slumber.  

• There are three towers - Clarion, Met, and Leo.

              Clarion 

• Clarion, so named for the Signal Bearer’s booming drum note, is the tallest and oldest of the towers. With its base rooted in the Lake of the Lower City, it stands as a monument to an older, more brutal Southmarch. Clarion houses most of the Signal Bearers - they have, in the echoing halls of this place, built a nest of shadow politics and ritual competition. Only the strongest among them are permitted to sound massive flat-drum at the tower’s terminus. 

• Clarion is home to a number of uninvited but uninhibited tenants. Notable among these is the exiled Princess Hail of Silkensleep and her plentiful, jubilant court. 

              Met 

• Met, the second largest, is rooted in the Lake of the Middle City. Colloquially known as “The Palace,” it is the most welcoming of the towers. The ground level houses a licensed (and quite popular) port officiated by a legion of lay-persons and a solitary, infallibly tyrannical, Signal Bearer overseer. Career sailors, away-imperial clades, simple fisherwomen - you will find these and more doing business on the wharf’s sheer ramparts and narrow docks.  

• For those of the Winefever, Met is a mandatory stop on the pilgrimage to the Grave of Saint Isabel.

              Leo 

• Leo is the youngest and smallest of the towers. Its pillarwork rests deep in the bedrock below the Lake of the Upper City. This is the only tower funded by a private individual - the Second Heiress and Arm of the Robintree Gate, Mopen Durnot - in honor of her brother’s (Leo Durnot) great sacrifice. Leo is also the only tower with upper levels open to the public. A mysterious evil lurks in that place - alabaster and scuttling. The city issued an open contract some years ago - kill the thing. None have succeeded, though many have tried. Records indicate that only two Signal Bearers lived in the tower at the time of its infection. Leo’s high drum still sounds at the coming of a storm, even after all these years. Many (including the author) wonder: what has become of those two stranded souls? 

 

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Sail Witch

Sail Witch
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Title: Pentabon Lecture Series - L1, December 22, 4222

ID: SQLP42012 - 007801

Creator: Qualas, Bonetta A.

Date: December 22, 4222

Physical Description: Scram Record (Cobalt casing) [ladder iconography sketched on the bottom left of the upper surface, beige stencil ink.]

Citation: Square Archival, Bunk 302, Albrim Packet, #201, Set 9 - "Starbank Analysis (Removed)"

Restriction: Mid O.T. 

Content:

    “The Pentabon Network was alive. When we talk about the prevailing winds of Starbank, it is important to remember that we are not discussing natural phenomena, but a collection of living, sentient organisms. Like all sentients, they desired communication with others. The Pentabon were too big to engage in a verbal dialogue with… anything, really. To call their presence in a region something other than cataclysmic would be a massive understatement. These were Template 2F hurricanes (Square-ADSI), about 1,200 miles in diameter, traveling at Mach 2 (relative to Starbank ISO). Try to imagine that. They were going to run into difficulties - that didn’t stop them from trying. Enter the Sail Witch. Sail Witches acted as the voices of the Pentabons - agents of their will. By all accounts, they were very much individual actors, freelancers, and wildcards. A motley crew. The Pentabon recruited them the only way it could - inaction. By stopping at just the right moment. (Note: our records here mostly come from the Mother Cultures.)

    Imagine a sailor caught in a sea storm. The boat is keeled on its side, groaning - a dying ox. She will surely drown after this next swell. Here it comes! But… then it stops. Calm water and clear skies. Nine times out of ten this fortunate soul will walk away spooked, thankful, and eager to forget. But that one, the one who doesn’t forget - that’s the Sail Witch. That sailor is going to spend the next 7 years of her life chasing down the thing that saved her. And if she finds it? The Pentabon will reward that commitment, that loyalty, with power and further purpose.

    To the public, Sail Witches were messengers and madwomen. Half the year they were sending and receiving communique for the whole region, green message placards whipping over hills and through forests on a highway of air currents they called the Wickway. For the other half of the year, they were building a boat, or running to get this and that, or hiring the kids to collect dust mites from flower fields. We know that during these months the sail witch would be starving, eschewing sleep, pushing herself to complete a task given to her by the Pentabon. At these times, they could seem inhuman - wild, obsessed - but still kind to a fault. The inner strategy of any single Pentabon remains, to this day, inscrutable, but we know that they repeatedly fell back on that baseline - kindness and courtesy - to maintain a stable relationship with the humans of Starbank. Hence the establishment of the mail service, the earnestness and honesty of their agents, etc. All the usual social accouterments eventually accompanied this relationship: names, regalia, festivals, custom. (See attached emblem of Pentabon 11 from local year 3001.)

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Knight of Capetix-Ober

Life Update: I've been practicing drawing/digital art on a regular basis for the past few months and have been really enjoying it! There was a lot of frustration at first, but now I feel my skills improving every day. I am happy to say that I can now supplement my worldbuilding/rpg design work with my own visuals. Enjoy! 

The Knight of Capetix-Ober

Knight of Capetix-Ober
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Title: Melissa 6. Escosem Letter, May [step] 9, 3052

ID: SQLP12956 - 002879

Creator: Escosem 6., Melissa

Date: May [step] 9, 3052

Physical Description: Paper (1, 4.5'' x 6'', Mauve) [handwritten text in black ink, both sides.]

Citation: Square Archival, Bunk 25, St. Service Packet, #9907, Set 6 - "Starbank Correspondence, 3050-3075"

Restriction: Dense N.O.T. 

Content:

Clementine,

It has been exactly six months and 3 days since we last spoke and I am distraught. I fell when your letter was handed to me (and gave the dockwomen a good laugh!) Your absence is a cavity in my chest. Every day I wake to find my heart shoved to the side by a gripping, spectral hand. It is made to shrink under strain, inch by inch until it resembles a sherry tome kernel. My mood is lowered, wits dulled… oh what we would do if you sat beside me now…

I digress. No doubt you wish to hear of my progress. Slow… but improving. Our venture began apace (I expressed as much in an earlier letter, did you receive it?) but ran aground - or at least snagged the bluffs - at the start of the second month. I realize now the issue was not caused by the language barrier, but by the cultural barrier. The folk here are more than our match in arms and intellect, but even our scientific exchanges are marred by a sort… malaise? We talk past each other, and we do this at a frustratingly sluggish pace. The pieces do not fit. After months of next to no profit and expansion to just the very edge of the capital’s outskirts, I was ready to despair. It was then that my savior arrived.

He was a man - I found that odd (even though by now I have realized there are many men here.) I saw him lurking at the very edge of the docks. He had the face of a weasel - nose smashed, teeth too-long - and a shifting manner. The guards brought him to me after his fourth attempt to get past the perimeter (this was after he was denied entry at the gate on two consecutive occasions during the previous week). You may sense that I disliked - continue to dislike - the man. This is true!

You will be surprised to know that he was a broker of Capetix-Ober. To find that their reach extends even here, and that they have taken an interest in me!  You know my mother to be alive and well - why would they not approach her, head of the family, instead? Perhaps they sensed my need. The broker offered me the balm for our venture’s frustrating misfortune, a Knight unlike any I have met. She is strong and obedient of course, but too she is - or was, before her misfortune - a native of this continent. Their culture is her culture. Their manner is her manner. With her help, we have arranged meetings with two of the Quiet Governors and have plans to contact the other nine. How refreshing it is to speak with these authorities not as an incompetent foreigner, but as a woman of means. Not as a princess, mind (the yolk of that privilege weighs far too heavy on me, you know this). To them, I am now a trade partner and business bringer - the little joys this status affords are just barely enough to sustain me in your absence.

Am I embarrassed to say that the success of this venture now rests on the shoulders of a stranger? Not at all. I believe myself now to be a pragmatist – this world is too fickle to turn away from a tow line, even if we cannot see its end. The Knight is the strong arm and sounding voice that we required; I am content to know this and little else. My one worry now is the matter of Capetix-Ober’s payment… yet this is only a minor concern. Soon we will be established here – the coin will flow.

That is all I have, my love. As I sit here penning the last of this letter, a ray of gold breaks over the Notyk Range. It is our bright future, rushing to meet us.  

 

Always yours,

Melissa

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Recently (in the last few months), I have adopted an "NPC focus" philosophy in running my game. And, as happens often, I borrowed this thing, this philosophy, from somebody else. All credit must go to Justin Alexander of The Alexandrian, which is an awesome blog (though you probably already knew that). 

So, to get to the point, I'm going to detail the following NPC - a powerful figure in the Sain Dite Hel - with a short description and then some tools as detailed in The Alexandrian's Don't Prep Plots post. I call these tools "resources," but they're the same thing. If you want more explanation on how to use NPC resources in game, read Don't Prep Plots.  

*Pictures in this post are unrelated to the topic, but cool.

The Northern Luc

There are two regions of the Mist Jags - northern and southern. Of the Guardians of Interest that have reign in the northern Mist Jags, the Northern Luc is the most influential, the most powerful. Her name is Castel. 

The uninformed regard Castel as the ultimate ruler of Sain Dite Hel (SDH). Any Negotiator will tell you that this is a falsehood. Others, mercenaries and merchants close to the megacorp, are not so sure.

She is known as the Stone Rot by her enemies. Decades ago a failed assassination attempt deprived her of the lower half of her body. With the aid of an allied *Grele Coriste artisan, her missing pieces were replaced with an integrated prosthetic of flexible limestone.

Her limestone prosthetic is mostly hollow and filled with various bays for holding water. These are arrayed on a gyroscopic mount - the bays are always upright. Her side is open for the venting of **bosime steam. One can easily see the spiked carapace of the drug swirling in heated pools. Her Beans spend most of their time in this interior enclosure - they enjoy lazing about. She is constantly shrouded in steam; it comes from her mouth when she speaks.  

Heri Shinato

Castel concerns herself with the mundane. She will conduct extensive investigations of objects, people. These interviews she conducts, investigations of people, are three day affairs. She is known (more neutrally) as the Curious Luc. 

The first day is entirely casual conversation. A bond is created. The second day is a deepening of this bond through shared activity, personal discussion. The third day is consumed by talk of recent affairs, an exploration of how the interviewee can possibly contribute information related to her current research. 

Some people don't return from these interviews. 

Goals

1. Find a way to pierce the mist shrouded cities of the Luret using a selection of loyal Negotiators. Investigate their hidden tunnels and locate the Truth. 
2. Apprehend Patret Bouche, a bounty hunter who recently stole part of her hoard. Included in the items stolen was a cloak made of ***Silver Thread.

Resources

• A Lunar Tower by the Brisson Coast: This is the place where Castel conducts her gold melting ritual, the most important of all a Luc's duties. Castel also keeps prisoners here, people she interviewed and decided to keep. It is a notoriously poor prison - escapes are common. It is also a notoriously vulnerable place; it is here that she suffered the assassination attempt that destroyed more than half of her body. She still visits regularly.
• A Cadre of Freelance ****Silver Silk Artists: Highly capable fighters. The Silver Thread woven into their arms can absorb and channel the energy of blocked blows, then release that energy with devastating effect.
• A Host of Guard Archers: A troop of ranged soldiers hired by Castel's concerned staff. They follow her constantly, are always some distance away and on higher ground. Ready to rain down death when signaled. 
• Sympathetic Members of the Illmisten City Guard: The guards of the capitol's gate are indebted to Castel three times over. They suffered from a flesh-eating disease for which only bosime steam was the cure. She offered them samples of the expensive drug free of charge. The gate guards are obsessed with carving increasingly complex scenes from the stone bulwark in which they are stationed. 

Heri Shinato

• Silverfish Pin Armor: Fits someone of a humanoid form. She loans it out to key agents. When the pins are fitted in certain areas - the shoulders, thighs, ribs, etc. - silver will grow from them to encompass the body. Gives the effect of a full-frame silver prosthetic. 
• Pen Pals with Roux Viont: Castel has a regular, lively, written discourse with Roux Viont. Roux lives at the peak of the main lodge of the Council of Barons. She is their Matriarch, and although she no longer attends Council meetings, her advice is often sought.
• Grele Coriste Automaton: Blank faced and massive. Stands ten feet tall and carries a giant battering ram as a weapon. It is stationed in the main hall of Castel's personal SDH outpost. 
• Lockmaster of the Catuernt Archive: During a meeting with the Lockmaster of Tower Brim, a woman who alone oversees a vault containing nearly three million *****perivaille patterns, Castel strengthened the copy of herself within the Lockmaster's mind to an unreasonable degree. Now she knows how to unlock every vault in the tower.  At least half the successful heists conducted against Tower Brim are, if drawn back to their source, her doing.  

  

Glossary

* Grele Coriste: A particular craft. Allows the reshaping of stone, most often sandstone, like putty. The stone can be hardened again, allowing for the creation of complex shapes.   

** bosime: A dangerous, expensive drug. 

*** Silver Thread: High quality thread. Better than silk, which is in turn better than all other mundane fabric.

**** Silver Silk Artists: Craftswomen, chiefly. In archetype, analogous to a wizard. They don't practice magic. Most of them wear folded silver prosthetics. Those among them skilled enough work with Silver Thread.  

***** perivaille: A floral pattern of concentric, layered petals. Rendered in fabric through embroidery/weaving. Infinite variations are possible - some are quite powerful. The core craft. 

Rudy Siswanto

So that's the Northern Luc. I've got a lot of material lined up, just not sure what to select as topic for the next post. I'll decide soon enough. 

Fantasy Megacorps Pt. 2

Welcome back to Hosphodet Amber. Been a bit of delay, but here I am!

*To recap: Right now I'm discussing fantasy megacorporations. In part 1 I talked about Sain Dite Hel (SDH), a megacorp that harvests Beans (fairies). I also described the Luret, a race primarily known for guiding Beans across the treacherous Mist Jags. Now on to the megacorp proper. 

Sain Dite Hel 

SDH harvests, processes, and sells Beans (fairies). Beans are very expensive 

Beans are useful. They possess strength many times their own body weight, can fly, and can follow orders. They are bound to a Haldstone, a trinket worn on the body, and can be made to appear at will (otherwise not present). Bodyguarding, tending the home, enhancing user strength - these are things Beans can do. Nobles often keep them as an elegant combat aid / attendant.

Beans, in the course of processing, can submit to SDH authority or be melted down, turned into Silverfish. Silverfish are squirming things the size of a finger. They can burrow through flesh as easily as a fish through water.

The SDH has multiple types of personnel, each having a role to play in preparing the "non-tethered" Bean for the buyer. They are, as listed in part 1: 

• Bounty Hunters
• Negotiators
• Guardians of Interest

Bounty Hunters 

Bounty Hunters are not part of the megacorp. SDH hires them from a stock of highly capable mercenaries. They are trained for one month to three before being released into the Mist Jags. 

The Bounty Hunter begins her day at an SDH outpost. She waits in the public courtyard for a Luret to approach, offering a contract. If the subsequent discourse becomes heated, as it often does, a Negotiator is called over from the sidelines to arbitrate. Terms are arranged - a deal is struck.

Kyoung Hwan Kim

She leaves to kill her target Luret. This can take anywhere from two hours to two days. She will most often use a ranged weapon, some high powered bow or unique, esoteric effect. Engaging a Luret guide in melee is dangerous - Beans will often protect their guide. Upon her successful return - line of Beans in tow - the Luret will leave to harvest the body of the target.  

Bounty Hunters are paid a flat rate each month - bonuses are given out for successful contracts. They are among the most well compensated mercenaries in Brisson.  

Negotiators 

The bread and butter of SDH. Anyone with power in the megacorp is a Negotiator. 

Main responsibilities: arbitrate contracts with the Luret, recruit Bounty Hunters, convince Beans to willingly undergo "processing."

Negotiators are not normal, perhaps they were never normal. SDH recruits them from recognized military outfits. The Silf de Heurgent, the Silver Silk Artists, the Illmisten Guard, etc. They are selected for their unique capabilities, mainly their talent for crisis negotiation. Sometimes SDH will recruit extraordinary individuals found outside of these organizations. Negotiators are dangerous, legendary - when offered the chance to become one, most people hesitate for a moment, then accept. 

cy-lindric

Training starts. First, SDH needs to weed out the weak. Batches of recruits are brought to Lica, a set of towers jutting from the ocean about a mile off the coast of Illmisten (the capital of Brisson). Lica is a death trap. It is filled with non-tethered Silver Demons, deadly obstacles, and frightening drops. The recruit's goal is to get through their assigned door. They can only get through the door with the help of other recruits. Helping other recruits is dangerous, likely to get you killed or stuck. Only those who pass through their assigned door escape Lica.

Training continues. Eventually the recruit is ready to become a Negotiator in full. She is modified. Silver thread is woven under the skin, the dermal flesh, of her forearm. This is a hub for Silverfish - six are placed in the recruit's body. Silverfish swim to the recruit's skull; the brain is pinned with silver thread. The recruit is forever changed.

Training ends.

Within the mind, their exists an "image" of yourself, a conception of who you are - who you think you are. Copies of "you" exist in the world. They lurk in other people, their minds. These copies are not "you," but the person's conception of you, the individual they have built up in their brain by observing your actions, your words. 

With training complete, with their body modified, a Negotiator can control the copy of themselves that exists in another person's mind. By focusing, they can make that copy into anything - friend, foe, etc. They are frighteningly powerful if allowed to speak, if allowed to see and concentrate on that copy. 

The personality of the Negotiator is slowly eroded by using this power. Eventually, they rely entirely on silver motes (a kind of magical currency) to maintain their intellect. 

Guardians of Interest

The rulers of SDH. Anyone with real power in the megacorp is a Guardian of Interest.

Guardians of Interest have the powers of a Negotiator, multiplied. 

They are self-perpetuating. Other Guardians of Interest commission the creation of a new one if they feel the need. None control SDH in entirety. 

androidarts

They are not human. It is undecided if they really ever were human. Guardians of Interest are also called Luc (pronounced "luke") - that is the name of their artificial forms. They look like the Lamassu of Sumerian religious belief. Bestial lower body, four-legged muscular stance. Imperious head with a long, pointed chin and various sets of cobalt shaded veils. Vast wings of metal sharp feathers - dark blue verging on black. Flightless. From the external observer, their head is always wreathed from behind by a spectral red disk. 

Luc are grown in a private, secluded village on the Brisson coast. Silverfish are introduced into a protected bay - closely monitored. The Luc body grows, and eventually walks from the water of its own volition. The body has a rudimentary, animal intelligence. It has the instinct to protect itself, nothing more.

Senior Negotiators are selected to become Guardians of Interest. Nobody (very few) wants the job. Traditionally, a very experienced Negotiator is allowed to leave SDH to pursue her own interests. The "cut free" Negotiator is constantly tracked by SDH spies. If she can evade detection, the inevitable tide of blackmail and threats, she is free. If not, she is called back to become a Guardian. There are less than twenty Guardians, very few compared to the amount of Negotiators. 

Luc brains are covered in Silverfish pins - a fertile bed for Negotiator reception and manipulation. The reclaimed Negotiator is locked in solitary with the beast for as long as necessary for the transfer to occur. A Negotiator must focus on the copy of herself within the Luc brain to such a degree that herself, her "real" personality, migrates to the Luc body. After transfer, the original body is promptly incinerated to prevent residual mental leakage. 

Lamassu

Most Guardians adopt a sizable cohort of Beans. These Beans are entirely loyal, requiring no maintenance.

Of all their duties as leaders of SDH, one is most sacred. The Luc build hoards. All gold not invested in the growth and infrastructure of SDH is funneled to a personnel vault. Once the hoard is of sufficient size, the Luc places the gold in small sacks, then loops these sacks about its neck. It makes the long walk to a high place showered in moonlight. There it lays down, sets fire to the sacks, and endures the heat, the burning. It watches the gold evaporate on the wind, an aureate breeze flowing ever towards Illmisten.  

Beans

Processing Beans is complicated.

Beans are possessing of a rebellious, riotous nature. It gives them power, and must be quenched if they are to obey. Once captured, a Negotiator speaks with each Bean individually. It convinces them to enter the Box Kassileur. 

The Box Kassileur is a hollow cube about fifty feet on a side. Within is a vast, miniature landscape. It represents a relatively massive region. Within are the punished. 

SDH punishes individuals by marching them to one of several stations locating in Brisson. These stations are the subject of a post I will make later concerning the most powerful "wizard type" in Brisson, a woman called Kormes. It is enough to say, now, that people can be "shrunk" - reduced to a height of barely three inches - at these stations.

After being shrunk, they are brought before a Luc, who influences their mind such that they become a slave to the Guardian's will. They are given a script, a role to play, and put in the Box Kassileur. 

***WARNING: The next few paragraphs concern potentially triggering material involving war, PTSD, and anxiety.***

The Box is a giant stage, a dynamic play. It is meant to continually simulate the horrific treatment of the modeled region, Kass, in a previous war. The Bean enters and is inducted into this play, forced to follow doomed actors in the hopeless defense of their homeland. The Box is meant to shatter the Bean, instill a quite horrible form of PTSD. Their will, rebellious spirit, is broken.

With their spirit broken, the Bean is easier to manipulate. The Negotiators put them through a regimen of intense, rehabilitating therapy. They are made to recover from their artificially induced PTSD, but in a way that ensures they are fundamentally loyal to SDH. 

Now the final step of processing occurs. They can be made into a Silverfish or bonded to a Haldstone. Normally 10 to 20 Beans are bonded to a single Haldstone. 

***WARNING: End of possibly triggering content.*** 

Beans are quite the boon, but they require plenty of maintenance. 

Every Monday, a Bean owner must sit down to a meal with her Beans - a congenial banquet - that is at least two hours long. The Beans are served silver motes, one for every ten Beans. 

Every Friday, a Bean owner must hold a two hour meeting with the Beans. In this meeting, the Beans are taught matters of import. History, numbers, letters, etc. This duty can end once the fairies have received a high school level education. They learn at half the rate as normal humans, so these meetings would last about thirty years. 

Most people are fine teaching their Beans alone for the first four years, but must hire a teacher/professor thereafter. The Beans refuse to pay attention if their owner does not at least participate in the lessons, even if most of the content comes from a teacher.

If the Beans are not provided regular lessons, they cease to follow the orders of their owner and refuse to re-enter their Haldstone. General mayhem ensues.

Kev Chan

 

That's about all I want to say about Sain Dite Hel for now. I think I'll detail an NPC from SDH in the next post.

Intro & Fantasy Megacorps Pt. 1

My current gaming group has recently found themselves in a densely populated region (called Brisson) whose main characteristic is the prevalence of flying strips of silver that impale anything that moves. It's my world - "New World" because it's been eight months and I still haven't made a name for it yet. Humans are prevalent, other races are rare/strange. No elves, dwarves, etc. Variety is found in the cultural diversity of humanity and magic. Magic is the norm, but it's always weird. 

Because of the above, I find myself in need of factions. My notes are an intractable, mutated waste. This is an attempt to mold the chaos, make it readable and gameable. Ideally, I'll be able to skim this and have enough material for a good amount of sessions, maybe even an entire adventure. 

I run D&D 5e, but like to think that my style is sufficiently OSR for that not to matter. 

Fantasy Megacorporations 

kleinerHai

The term "megacorp" may be a bit of an exaggeration. 

I like the idea of a corporation in a fantasy world. It mixes with my stubborn refusal to define the exact modernity of my setting. Plus, they're just cool. I try to make most of them a kind of social/architectural behemoth - a force that has eyes, hands, everywhere. 

There are several ways, I've found, to make a megacorp interesting. Just pick some elements and make them really wacky. 

• What product do they peddle? Why is it special?
• How do they harvest the product?
• How do they transport the product?
• How do they process the product?
• How is the megacorp organized? Are their watchdogs, tiers of authority, etc? 

*Most megacorps exist to sell a product of some kind. Some don't.

Megacorp No. 1 - Sain Dite Hel

Ok, let's breath. Lot's of information to cover. The specific faction, the specific megacorp, I will be detailing now is called "Sain Dite Hel" (SDH) - or perhaps you might call them "Fairy Hunters" or "Something Hunters." Personally, I think fancy made up names sound better, but you do you. 

Their schtick is thus: they hunt fairies, then they sell fairies. They're not fairies in my setting, they're called "Beans," but again, modify this to suit your needs. They fill the same role as fairies. They are capricious, rude, chaotic, capable of flight, and tiny. (For the record, beans are folded silver humanoids about five inches tall. No face, just depressions where the features should be. No wings. Can speak - words emanate from their head.)

There is a region called the "Mist Jags." Low lying mountains cut through with torturous valleys. Very little fertile land. Swampy pockets of water. Mist everywhere. SDH has their bases set up on the periphery of these areas. 

Every day several - many - figures in billowing rags trundle across the cliffs with long, lamp poles in hand (it's a stretched region; they traverse it length-wise.) These are not humans, but humanoids - "Luret." They are covered in matte, curving shells that emulate the form and function of muscle - very flexible, comes in dark blue, dark red, and greyish-tan. Trailing behind the Luret, Beans. A bunch of  em' - long single file line and none flying. The Luret dutifully lead the Beans from a swamp region on one end of the Mist Jags to one of numerous speckled trees on the other end. Once they arrive at a speckled tree, the Luret climbs to its peak and rings the bell hanging at its peak, opening a hole at the bottom. The Beans shout their thanks and stream inside. 

*Replace the Luret with elves, or fey creatures maybe, if you're running a more standard setting.

The SDH work closely with the Luret. To understand this relationship, one must understand the different components of the megacorp. There are three:

• Bounty Hunters
• Negotiators
• Guardians of Interest

The Bounty Hunters do the actual hunting. Now they don't actually hunt the Beans, that was a simplification. They hunt the Luret. Killing a Luret entitles the killer to its Beans. Hunting can only begin when a separate Luret has put a target on the back of one of it's fellows. The Negotiators help to navigate the intricacy of such arrangements. The Guardians of Interest watch over it all, being the ultimate owners of the SDH. First, let's come to know the Luret.

The Luret 

The Luret are hierarchical. They have kingdoms (political parties), monarchs, recognized territory, treaties, councils, etc. 

The Luret are on average Machiavellian. They routinely plan the assassination of their fellows through SDH bounty hunters.

The Luret who deal with the SDH are like rebels without a cause, paranoid. They are ready to throw themselves - body, mind, sanity - into the efforts they pursue. A goal is to die for, to kill for. A kingdom is only as good as it's benefit to the individual. Everything is a lie, or half-true at best - the singular Luret is an island, even to others of her nation. 

The Luret's main activity in life is guiding Beans. From what negotiators can glean, they trudge through the red reed tree swamp a while, then dig through water and sludge until their bodies - relatively massive - break into the tiny silver undercity of the Beans. The Beans gather and demand facts, cool facts - they find them delightful. A Luret will often have to wait, wedged, until another of its kind arrives and the Beans can compare which has the better facts. 

*Replace my proper nouns with your own.

Each Luret is a democratically elected official of Beans, a president of their charges. The responsibility that comes with this position is very important to them. 

Luret's gain prestige by successfully guiding Beans. They test their current prestige by immersing themselves in the opened top of a speckled tree (there's a whole bunch of blue goop inside). If they have enough prestige, they gain a boon - a shallow disk protrusion grows from their forearm glowing a sky blue. If they don't have enough prestige, they get poisoned by the goop and die. 

The more disks a Luret has, the more Beans she can guide. The more Beans she can guide, the more prestige she receives. 

Prestige can be gained by cracking open the disks of a Luret killed mid guide and drinking the blue goop within.

The Luret have rules for the killing of their own kind:

1. Luret murdering Luret is strictly forbidden. A human may kill a Luret if given specific permission by another Luret beforehand. 
2. The Luret must know the approximate (1000 foot radius) location of their target before contracting the Bounty Hunter

These are core rules of the Luret psyche. There are no "criminal" Luret who voluntarily break these rules. They cannot - it would drive them insane.

There are Luret councils held sparsely in their dense, mist shrouded, ravine bound cities. There they argue over general Bean guiding policy and which areas/zones of the Misty Jags belong to which kingdoms. Negotiations are long - pacts can always be broken.   

The kingdoms of the Luret are three:

• Midnight: They advocate for longer Bean lines and less Luret guides.
• Mauve: They advocate for smaller Bean lines and more Luret guides - "the way of the future."
• Caladan: They advocate for more neutral zones. 

Luret are forbidden from travelling in an area that belongs to a foreign kingdom. If they can't get close enough, they can't see their target, can't know their location for the purposes of contracting a Bounty Hunter. Anybody can travel in a neutral zone. More neutral zones means more contract killing.

Luret cities are a mystery. Rarely, a human will be blindfolded and allowed to enter. Those who return speak of endless libraries, precious artifacts on display. They speak of how the true city is below in endless, subterranean caverns. 

It is not known what the Luret gain in return for building their prestige (besides more forearm disks). Luret with many forearm disks tend to be monarchs. Luret with enough forearm disks disappear. The become one with the Attendants - chunky, nigh cubical mounds with the same matte, flexible shells as the Luret; stubby, thumping legs. Negotiators believe the Luret consider the Attendants to be some sort of mother - at least subconsciously.

Hwanggyu Kim

I have more notes on the Luret - could fill another post I think - but that's background noise, deep lore, information I might pull out if the party makes it into a Luret city. And would you look at the time! This is already too long, the SDH will have to wait. Stay tuned for part two, the actual megacorp.