I Ran The Iron Coral #3

Previous Sessions : 1, 2. 

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Once again we have M. playing as...

 

Creed (Dex +1), locked inside their crimson armour (armour 1, defer blow onto an ally), armed with sword and pistol. Rendered listless last session, proscribed stimulants in order to function.

Doug (Wis +1), armed with a rifle.

 

Also featuring: Slob the dog. 

We open on Creed staring out the window of the party's new boardinghouse lodgings at the falling rain and the forest of ship's crosstrees. They are listless, their hair matted. Behind them, in the room's second bed, Doug is curled up with the dog. From a vial Creed takes some white powder and snorts it, immediately achieving a measure of alertness and awareness previously lacking. 

At breakfast (mostly fish and lard) the landlady gives Creed a letter from Doc. Cruette asking if they would like to give a small recounting of their exploits in the Iron Coral to some physician friends of his on visit from Bastion. (1) They decide they'll need a showpiece: an expedition is in order.

 

Asking around for recruits in the dockside pubs, they are met by two men--Suleiman and Piotr. They are rough sorts, washed up out of one of Bastion's armies by the look of their mismatched kit. But they've been in the Iron Coral before, as part of one of Nigel's expeditions. They don't like Nigel much--he got one of their buddies killed and paid them a paltry amount in spite of making it out with two crystal orbs. It's not the danger they mind so much as the lack of rewards. (2) So they agree, in part to spite Nigel, to sign on for no up-front pay but rather a share of the treasure. A seven-three split is agreed upon.

They ship out in Dorett's little fishing boat in the pouring rain. (3) It takes longer than usual to navigate the choppy waters but after an arduous amount of rowing the Iron Coral's jagged form looms and the party pulls into the cove in its side.

 

They enter the gaping passage and after an inordinate amount of time descending find themselves walking through a sort of cavern whose rocky walls seem to bear impressions of cyclopean machinery. (4) Then the tunnel narrows, crowded out by freezing pipes and they squeeze through and out into some sort of engine room thick with even more tangled pipes. They feel a rumble through their feet and the sound of distant machinery churning to life. 

Exasperated at yet another change to the dungeon, (5) they nonetheless press on and encounter a small, rodent-esq creature which spoke to them in oddly comprehensible gibberish. A helper beast: it asked to be given a task. Not knowing what else to do, Creed told it to come along with them and it let itself be scooped up and placed on their shoulder.

The room to the north was bigger, with a tangle of pipes on the ceiling leading into two massive tanks festooned with glowing gauges. The coral in this part of the dungeon has an odd golden color. As they stepped into the room however, Piotr stopped them with a hiss and raised fist. (6) Very slowly he indicated the ceiling and they saw the large, almost transparent, shape of an insectoid creature shift position in the pipes above. (7)

Slowly, Doug, Piotr, and Suleiman raised their rifles, training them on the glassy creature. At Creed's instigation, they began to sidle their way across the room to the door on the east wall, but the creature above shifted to intercept them. 

They made their decision. Piotr and Doug opened fire. The pipes masked it (and it was nearly invisible besides) so their shots didn't quite hit home (8) but the creature is hit nonetheless and falls from the ceiling with a panicked, chittering screech. The gunshots echo against the metal walls. (9) They have just enough time to see the gouts of translucent red blood and then the glass mantis lashes out with its clawed arms, grappling Piotr, who takes a nasty wound and loses his rifle. Creed yells at the other two to take the shot, even if it risks hitting Piotr, and another volley of rifle fire smashed into the creature, blowing its head open and, unfortunately, hitting Piotr as well, who goes limp. 

The glass mantis toppled and the gang rushes over, pulling Piotr free from its clawed embrace. Fortunately, he is till alive. (10) Just mangled and with a cleanly shot-through wound to the flank. A quick debate, then Suleiman and Doug began to drag Piotr back towards the entrance while the dog pranced about wildly and Creed bent over to examine the creature's body. 

Before he can however, they saw a ripple in the wall. Slowly, like a shark's fin breaking the surface, a golden clawed hand emerged and went racing across the floor towards Doug and Suleiman. (11)

In desperation, Creed pulled their sabre free and slashed--at empty air. With a massive swipe, the arm tossed Suleiman aside and he flew into one of the metal tanks with a meaty thud and resonant clang before crumpling to the ground. 

Doug tries to disentangle himself from his rifle strap, still half dragging Piotr as the arm circles round. Creed takes the time to pull out his revolver, aim, fire, and blow the arm into weird metallic droplets. It subsumes into the floor and all is quiet save for the ringing of the gunshot and the churn of machinery in the walls. 

Creed then helped Suleiman up, who is fine if badly bruised (maybe with a broken rib), and then put him back to the task of hauling Piotr out to the boat. Meanwhile, Creed bends over and starts hacking at the body of the glass mantis. After tense minutes of effort, acutely aware of how alone they are in the claustrophobic bowls of this waking edifice, Creed managed to gather up an arm and head of the translucent creature. (12) Its blood gets everywhere, staining his armour a deeper crimson. 

He hurries out after his comrades and, after jogging in darkness, emerged into the pouring rain. The sea is choppy and the little fishing boat bobs in the swells but they load Piotr aboard, covering him with a tarp. Creed gives Suleiman a handful of money, the arm and head (now wrapped up) and instructs him to row back to Hopesend, get medical attention for Piotr, and deliver the "specimens." Then come back and pick Doug and them up. Suleiman gives a salute and shoves off. 

Together, Doug and Creed turn back to the gaping dungeon mouth. They feel a shudder pass through the coral underfoot.

Entering back into the relative dryness, of the Iron Coral, they descend, once more squeezing their way through the cold pipes and into the engine room, then proceeding to the room with the huge tanks. (13) Two of the little helper beasts are there, fiddling with the gauges on the tank that Suleiman collided with. They chatter and ignore the party. At least until Creed tries and fails to snatch one up and shove it in a snack, at which point they scampered off. 

Shrugging, they open the door to east and find a hub-like room with some odd white "leather" chairs on the wall and a shaft in the ceiling dripping foam. Creed sat in one just for the hell of it. Then they tried a door covered in incomprehensible signage to the southeast. On the other side they found a small, bare room with three locked metal lockers on the wall. (14) Finding them locked, they tried a passage leading south that smelled of rot. At the other end was a crude chamber heaped with rotting flesh. They retreated back to the hub room and try, this time, the northeastern door (also covered in weird signage). That hatch opened up onto a long passage which they proceeded down. As they neared the end they noticed the sounds of an immense creature breathing. The dog whines and refuses to go forward. With trepidation, they look out into the huge room beyond. There is a passage on the far wall, but between them and it is a huge, black scaled, six legged monstrosity deep in slumber; nearly the size of a steam truck. 

They retreat quietly and carefully. Back in the hub room, they try the northern door, which opens onto a chamber with several dangling machines and two doors, one blasted open. 

They try the blasted door and find a small, bunker-like room with a splatter on the wall and a hatch in the floor. (15) Then they check the dangling machines, which are some sort of power tool--saws and the like--attached to the ceiling by thick cables. The dog is pawing at the eastern door, so they open it, getting a whiff of rot, and find a sort of dining room with white chairs and an ivory tabled heaped with mouldering foodstuffs. Creed and Doug extract some of the pseudo-ivory cutlery and platters, shoving it all in a sack, then decide they've pushed their luck as it is and began to make their way out of the Iron Coral. 

They pass through the hub, through the tank room, through the engine room, squeeze their way through the freezing pipes (the sounds of machinery are nearly deafening), trot through the dark passage, and finally emerge back into the cleansing rain. 

The boat is not yet back, so they wait in the passage-mouth and watch the choppy sea. Abruptly, Creed realizes that they can see a smear of marshland on the horizon--which should be impossible given the angle of the cove. The Iron Coral is, ever so subtly, drifting. (16) Perturbed, they hunch inward in their poncho, trying to keep warm.

Eventually, the boat returns, crewed by Dorett, and they board and quickly shove off. As they row away, the parry watches the jagged hulk of the Iron Coral slowly moving through the water. 

And that's where we wrapped up for the day.

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(note: sorry for the meandering tenses)

 

(1) Prepped this hook in advance. 

(2) Vaguely had some dissatisfied former-hirelings of Nigel in mind before the session then improvised the rest on the spot after M. said they wanted to hire some mercenaries. 

(3) Random weather roll. Rain and then rain again. When they get back to Hopesend there will be flooding. 

(4) Rolled echo #3: engines.

(5) M. was both exasperated and delighted at the way the dungeon's shifted between sessions.

 

(6) Made an opposed d12 roll for surprise and M. won it. 

(7) So echo #3 states that each room should have an encounter as the Iron Coral "awakes" and this was my initial result, but after the mantis fight I switched over to rolling more conventionally as it felt weird insomuch as pacing was concerned to be having an encounter every room. 

(8) I gave the Glass Mantis 8 hits and had its claw attack do 3 hits. The players would have done 6 hits with their two rifles but I gave it armour 2 for being nearly invisible and also hidden up among the pipes. So it was badly wounded, fell from the pipes, lashed out, and then was finished off. Guns are powerful. 

(9) Prompting encounter checks. 

(10) Dropped to 0 hits. When the party checked on him, M. flipped a coin and called it correctly so he lived.

(11) This whole thing was a pretty brutal series of encounter checks. 

(12) This begins a streak of very lucky encounter rolls (nothing) that lasts for the rest of the session. 

(13) If I were to run the same situation again, I might bring the "explode if any damage is done to them" factor into play what with all these shots being fired. 

(14) No idea why they didn't try to bust these open. 

(15) M. also refused to open the hatch, citing caution. 

(16) Seemed like a good way of making the "waking up" of this echo have a bigger impact. I will figure out what this means for the next session. Maybe it crashes into the marshland or even into Hopesend. 

So far, this was our shortest session, but it packed a punch. About three weeks have passed, in universe, since the party's first foray into the dungeon. M.'s characters are all professionals at this point. One more expedition and they'll be experts.

I Ran The Iron Coral #2

This write-up will be a bit on the loose side as I wrote it up almost a week and a half after the session and then procrastinated tidying it up, so some detail was lost. Likewise, I don't have as thorough referee notes. 

 

Previous Sessions : 1.

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My friend M. played as... 

Creed (DEX +1), locked inside the Crimson Armour (armour 1, may defer a wound onto an ally) and armed with sword and pistol.

 

With their companions Bob (halberd, crude armour) and Doug (WIS +1, rifle). 

We open on a dreary day. The party is moping about at a table in the Pickled Goose Tavern & Boardhouse. Bob is massaging phantom pains out of his new peg leg, while Creed keeps an attentive ear out for rumours of note.

Three looming men approach the table, almost bulging out of their suits. One removes a little black notebook from his pocket, opens it to a page, and asks: "Messieurs Creed, Bob, and Doug?"

The three look at each-other. "Who wants to know?"

The goon shuts his notebook with a snap and returns it to his breast-pocket. Then, with one swift move, his fellow sweeps all the glasses off the table, sending them smashing to the floor. They lean in and say: "We've heard that you've recently come into some money. Yet you have not begun paying off your debt. Curious. We hope you will heed this reminder." 

 

They left.

Rattled, the party pays for damages and leaves, now uncomfortably aware of the thirty shillings burning a hole in their pocket.

Purchases: prybar, lockpicks, fire oil, and a mutt (named Slob). 

 

While walking the dockside they pass a couple of funny men in cerulean robes hawking pamphlets in front of a blue painted ship. "Join our voyage to the stars beyond! Where you shall transcend and join in the congress of enlightened alien intelligences! We are sure to succeed this time!"

The party decide to engage an expert: Gullwin, the man who'd identified the poison when Creed asked the Pickled Goose's clientele the week before. He asked to be paid up front, at an expert's going rate, and they settled on five shillings upfront, five on return from the expedition, as well as one shilling bonus if any treasure was gotten.

Thus they assembled in the early morning on a mist shrouded wharf. Dorett was there to see them off and Gullwin arrived, out of the fog, polishing his glasses, a hefty revolver stuck in his belt.

After some time on the water...

The Iron Coral sat, a jagged island looming out of the sea. They land on the metallic sand of the cove and find, to their surprise, another little yawl already pulled ashore with footsteps leading into the gaping entrance-mouth.

The party sorted themselves out and proceeded into the depths.

After an indeterminable amount of time spent trudging down the sloping tunnel, they emerged, not into the hub chamber they were expecting, but into a space whose edges their lamp light cannot reach, nor can they feel it. The floor is soft underfoot. They creep about and find, dangling from some sort of shaft leading upward, a rope.

Upwards they climb (Doug hoisting the dog up after them). As they do, a rusty residue accumulates on their joints. At long last, they emerge out of the shaft and find themselves in the pit room where they slew the carapace beast. Sure enough, its corpse was where they had left it in jumbled pile on the floor. They noted that the rope was tied to a grapnel sunk into the pit's rim.

They move north and north again into the room with the metal boxes, retracing their map. North again, through the room with transparent walls and the mouldering corpse. They skirt the psychic ball-sack and enter the room with the bulging class dome only to hear a BANG on the doors at the top of the room. 

After some argument, they decide to open the doors; weapons at ready. The metal doors grind apart, revealing a small room with three crystal spheres on pedestals surrounded by shuffling, pallid humanoids who hardly react to the intrusion. Cautiously, the party sidles into the left side of the room.  

 

They observe the pallid husks for a few minutes, poking them a bit, and determine that they are fairly non-responsive. Creed decides to go for the leftmost orb only for the two husks guarding it to frenziedly attack. They wrestle it from them and the party blasts and hacks them to pieces, only to notice that Creed is now nearly catatonic wrapped around the orb, staring fixedly into it.

Bob pries it out of Creed's hands and shoves the crystal orb in a sack. The party flees, dragging Creed along with them, taking the stairs downward. 

They catch their breath in the colorful coral room and watch some skittering fishbugs. Bob decides to re-enter the gladiatorial pit and this time fight the half-man, half-coral gladiator. His proposal: a grid of flaming oil upon the ground. The combat is tense, but Bob wins and collects the dead gladiators gear. 

They head east, into the sticky room again, and hear slithering from down the dog-legged passage. They prepare themselves and blast the coral snake apart as it emerges; gunshots echo through the dungeon. They take the time to skin the snake and roll the long strip of leather up into a bundle. Then they continue and enter the room where they'd found the crimson armour. They are met with seven or so fish-men all clustered around poking at the corpses on the ground! 

Both sides regard each other tensely but no one yet acts. 

The party decides to slowly advance into the room. The fish-men respond by backing up, but flow around and suddenly the party is blocked off from the way they came in. Cursing themselves, they head north, and three fish-men followed while the rest split off down other routes. 

The party follows the corridor north, dogged by the three fish-men, and end up pushing their way through a bristle-wall into a room with a little salty stream. They try to the room to the east and note that it has weird flexing holes in the ceiling. Nonetheless, they try and cross only for spikes to shoot out! Bob and Doug are injured and quickly retreat. They decide, fuck it, and blast their way through the three fish-men and flee south. 

They make it as far as the dog-leg passage when they are ambushed. Bob, who was in front, puts up a fight but falls under the onslaught of hooked barb-chains. The rest of the party blasts away till the fish-men falter and the survivors retreat. Checking on Bob, they find he is dead. Doug retrieves some items from the body and then they flee back through the rooms and up the stairs, heading for the entrance shaft. 

Somewhere around the box room they hear a gunshot, but ignore. Back down the shaft and then out into the fresh air and they pile into the boat, push off, and leave.

 

Afterward, Doug paid Gullwin the rest of his money, disgusted with how little help the "expert" was. Then he hocked the snakeskin and met with Darius, the port overseer, who gave him a substantial sum (1g) for the crystal orb. Finally, the beleaguered and mournful Doug took Creed to Doc Cruses and got them proscribed a powdery white stimulant in the hopes that it would shake them out of the listlessness that had predominated since the orb incident. 

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M. enjoyed how things went sideways this session, though the loss of Bob was a tragedy. Gullwin could have been better run on my part. M. had stated that she wanted to hire a "naturalist or biologist" but within the dungeon I wasn't exactly sure how run that so he mostly didn't do much. The gladiator was a bit of an odd little diversion that didn't feel totally appropriate, and running combat as sport of that sort is tricky with the mechanics I'm using.

Deep Country : The Guano Isles

Out where deep country meets deep water, on a handful of rocky islands under the baking sun, layers of bird shit strata have hardened into rich, white gold. Blasted, chipped, and shoveled out. Loaded into freighters to take back to Bastion where it becomes saltpeter, fertilizer, and all manner of products. 

Among the innumerable sea birds might be found...

1-4: d8 Convict Shovelers - STR 13, 3hp, Shovels & Picks (d6), Manacles, Grimy Overalls. Want to escape from this life sentence of grueling labour. Watched over by a lone, surly Guard - 6hp, Whip (d4), Musket (d8), Officious Hat.

1 : Hauling bags of guano down a dangerous cliff to be loaded onto a barge.

2 : Watching a fellow prisoner be whipped for killing a gull.

3 : Fistfighting, a distraction so that another convict can steal a stick of dynamite. 

4 : Sitting about and refusing to work despite overseer's threats.

5-8: The Great Auk - STR 18, 10hp, Stomping (d8), Snapping Beak (d10). Wants to eat tiny tasty things, like you.

5 : Goofily chasing panicked convicts along the shore. 

6 : Bobbing its head, flapping its wings, and practicing its mating display.  

7 : Grooming its feathers in the sun. 

8 : Swimming about, unbeknownsteadly hunted by an obsessive sea captain in his rowboat. 

9-11: d8 Egg-Eaters - DEX 15, 5hp, Cudgels (d6), Bird Masks, Camouflage Feather-cloaks. Want to become like the island's sea birds and encourage others to that end. 

9 : Stalking a clueless surveyor, intent on kidnapping him for induction.

10 : Dancing a ritual out on the cliff-tops, concluding with one leaping off and transforming into a cormorant. 

11 : Perched atop the rocks practicing gull-calls.

12-15: Fortinbrasic Marines - (detachment) STR 15, 8hp, Muskets (d8), Shakos, Red Cockades. Want to evict the Bastionese industrialists from the islands which they claim belong to their (Failed) City. 

12 : Unloading a cannon from a landing boat amid the surf and squawking gulls. 

13 : Lost, their officers argue over a poorly drawn map. 

14 : Torching a collection of mining shacks and taking people prisoner. 

15 : Miserably encamped, eating spoilt tinned meat. 

16-18: d2 Steam Lorries - Ponderously hauling guano along the rocky paths. Each crewed by a Driver and Stoker - 4hp, Pistol or Coal Shovel (d6), Flatcaps. 

16 : Flying along at dangerous speeds in the hands of a joyriding convict, pursued by crew. 

17 : Taking a pack of investors from Bastion on a tour of the island's mines. 

18 : Broken down, scalding steam venting everywhere. 

19-20 "Ghost Of The Isles" - Bertrand Obel, Ex-Naturalist : WIL 16, Sheets, Wailing. Wants to drive everyone from the islands leaving them pristine, utilizes his Phobic Lamp - those caught in the light see the worst thing they can imagine. 

19 : Charging down a hillside yelling, driving a storm of panicked gulls ahead of him.

20 : Hiding behind a rock, quickly sketching an interesting sea-bird.

The Good Doctor Amalia

Oh, glorious electricity! That which arcs and sparks from the living wires and descends from the heavens with all the fury of a god! If only for a moment one could achieve that transcendence.

At least that was the good doctor's plan. Unfortunately for her it worked. Mostly. The procedure burnt away her mortal flesh till all there was left was the electric traceries of a nervous system. But in the process the her suit melted and twisted to the whims of strange physics forever trapping her within.

She is thoroughly convinced that this is no fault of her own nor flaw in method. No it could only have been sabotage!

Currently the doctor wanders the streets seeking her imagined saboteur and chasing electrical phenomena in vain hope of freeing herself from this prison and becoming pure energy.

Doctor Amalia

3hp, Dex 14, Rubber Suit (armour 1), Lightning Gun (d10, blast)*

Heavy rubber suit, faint crackling of electricity inside.

    - Can be found attempting to murder whoever she has decided is the saboteur today

    - If her suit is damaged the rubber melts closing the gap.

    - Easily distracted with academic papers

* the blast tag applies to all surrounding who are not grounded or insulated

The Undying Bank (pt. 1)

A squat stone edifice, pillars like bony forearms holding up a roof of black slate tiles. Above the heavy iron doors a simple etching, half worn by the elements. A robed skeleton holding clutching an hourglass and scales.

This is the Undying Bank.

This but scarier

An ancient institute, its founders a hazy memory. It has no living employees. Not anymore. The bank's accounting is impeccable, and it guards the assets of many wealthy bastiards. 

Two odd factors make the bank stand out however.

First, the Undying Bank is not scrupulous with its loans. There is only one collateral and condition it requires. You must put up a body. It needn't be yours but if you cannot provide it might be yours.

Secondly, its employees are all skeletons. 

No one is quite sure how the skeletal clerks are created or animated but several dubiously legal expeditions have been mounted into the labyrinth of empty offices, hallways, and vaults that lie within the bank in attempts to find out. None have succeed. Few have returned.

For now the residents of Bastion have accepted the bank as, more or less, normal. But it is still unsettling for many.

---

Skeleton Clerk

4hp, Str 13, Choking Grasp (d6), Slashing & Piercing is Impaired

A human skeleton with a a strange, typewriter contraption wedded to its chest and stranger mechanical contraptions within its ribcage and skull. To communicate, it types out a message which is displayed upon an extruded piece of paper.

    - Will accost and forcibly remove or kill anyone not in the entrance hall or accompanied by a clerk

    - Mechanically follow preordained routines

    - Communicates with its fellows through unknown but quick and far reaching means

---

The Expeditioneers

The current expedition into the bank is lead by the enterprising Professor Emily Scribble of the borough university. Her entourage consists of assorted credit hungry students, down on their luck faculty, odd job porters, and a one Mr. Stew, sole survivor of the previous expedition, who mostly spends his time miserably prophesying doom.

They have set up base camp in several disused offices along the upper story and sneak supplies in thorugh a skylight.

As of yet they have only explored some of the already mapped upper levels but Prof. Scribble is eagerly making plans for further excursion. 

---

Professor Emily Scribble

3hp, Journals & Notebooks, Surprisingly Sharp Pencils (d6)

Wears a waistcoat bedecked in bulging pockets.

    - Very enthusiastic but capable of bouts of intense seriousness

    - Talks your ear off about her theories

    - Keeps a journal full of documents from previous expeditions

Mr. Stew

5hp, Dex 13, Cha 7, Hidden Pistol (d6)

Ragged, torn up suit, nervously grips his flatcap. 

    - Really, really, does not want to be here

    - Forced to guide the Professor or stay destitute

    - Jumpy and pessimistic

Assorted Entourage

3hp, Miscellaneous Implements (d6)

The clothes that suit them.

    - Some are enthusiastic, others... less so

    - All are desperately hoping for credit, wealth, or fame

    - Prone to panic and clumsiness

---

What dangers lurk in the dusty offices and halls of this place? We'll find out whenever I post part two this!

The Dead Shore

Betwixt Deep Country and Deep Water lies the Dead Shore. A long coastal region of mudflats and wide beaches, it is littered and piled with the decaying corpses of huge whales, strange squid, and all manner of sea creatures. 

Encounters

People to meet while traveling along the Dead Shore.

Excited Zoologists (1d6)

3hp, Assorted Sample Jars, Sketchbooks, Nets (d4, entangles)

Scientifically minded Bastiards out studying the sea life.

    - Enthusiastically cluster around new organisms

    - Will pay for creatures they haven't seen before

Herd Of Crabs

2hp, DEX 12, Armour 1, Pincers (d6, blast)

Crustaceans searching for a meal.

    - Won't bother you unless threatening or particularly tasty

    - Will take at least an hour for them all to pass

Lord Canard's Men (1d10+1 soldiers)

4hp, STR 13, Expensive Rifles (d8)

Thugs out on orders, looking for a particular oddity. 

    - Will confiscate anything particularly weird or interesting looking

    - Don't really want fight but need something to give to their boss

Bone Pickers (1d4)

3hp, Blubber Cutting Knives (d6)

Collecting fish and meaty bits.

    - Might try to haggle with the party for supplies

    - Know the area well

Clever Carcasse Squid

2hp, DEX 17, Sharp Nip (d4)

Actually a small blue-brown octopus.

    - Will steal shiny items and run off

    - Very smart and pretty friendly if mischievous

Flock Of Territorial Seagulls

6hp, Bitey (d6, blast)

Will harass you and steal food.

    - Fly out of the way of attacks

    - Confusing, chaotic, and loud

Carrion Town

Built around the carcass of a truly titanic whale which has been carved out to become the towns pub, market, and local meeting hall. Shanty huts and tents sprawl out to surround it. The bone pickers and gut collectors who roam the Dead Shore meet here to trade their goods.

The town is noted for its fermented whale meat. A delicacy in Bastion and a hated meal here.

The players as newcomers to the town are likely to be accosted by Micky Putt, a child around twelve years of age, who will offer to take them to the Wreck of the Psychi for salvaging purposes.

The Whale's Stomach Pub

Literally a whale's stomach. The most prominent and only pub on the Dead Shore. The bartender is a loud old fellow by the name of Punch Up Prester who lacks a leg but possesses a nasty right hook. The place smells of rot and strong spirits.

Punch Up Prester

5hp, DEX 8, Nasty Right Hook & Cane (d6)

Missing a leg, walks with a cane/thumping stick.

    - Cannot speak quietly no matter how hard he tries

    - Instantly won over by anyone who can prove themselves in a fight

Ms. Lilly's Soap Manufactory

A squat building constructed of cut timber dragged down from higher up the shore. Ms. Lilly and her employees spend their time rending down fish, seal, and whale fat into a foul smelling soap that they sell in Bastion for a pretty penny.

Lord Canard & His Men

A once wealthy Bastiard pursuing rumors of a powerful oddity. He and his gang of thugs have been harassing the residents of Carrion Town for months. They are currently encamped outside town.

Lord Canard

4hp, CHA 14, Dueling Pistols (d8+d8)

Dressed in a winged top hat.

    - In reality, he is unable to pay his thugs in full

    - Prefers false promises and betrayals as tactics

Big Nhi

6hp, STR 15, CHA 12, Gnarled Club (d6)

Wears sturdy trousers with her suspenders.

    - Oher thugs defer to her as unofficial leader

    - Quite cunning and well spoken

Convincing Chocolate Coins

An oddity possessed by Lord Canard. A CHA save is required of anyone within hearing range of the person eating one of these coins. If failed any lies about promised wealth and reward spoken by the eater will be believed. There are 3 coins left.

Blubber Ridge

A particular quirk of the currents and the coast's topography piles the carcasses in great numbers here. So many whales, seals, sharks, squid, and fish are deposited here as to form a foul-smelling landscape of rotting meat. Valleys and ridges and even caves are formed by the decaying masses. 

On occasion the area is rocked by violent explosions caused by the buildup of gases from decomposition. 

In addition to scavenging crabs, carcass squid, and bone pickers a massive elephant seal called Mean Arnold has made its home here. Travellers best be wary or be faced with an territorially 9000 lb seal spoiling for a fight.

Mean Arnold

8hp, STR 15, Armour 2, Body Slam (d8)

Massive scar across the chest.

    - Will fight anything and everything in sight

    - Has a sweet tooth for fermented whale meat

Wreck Of The Psychi

An ancient whaling schooner; run aground for several years. Only a few hours walk from Carrion Town but locals have been avoiding it as of late for it is reputed to be haunted. They are not entirely wrong. 

The Psychi was once captained by Emily Winder, a familiar name to any Bastiard. Indicted in a voice-stealing scandal, she fled Bastion aboard the schooner after an exciting series of events that resulted in at least two large explosions and one tram crash.

The Voice Stealing Phonograph

Center of the whole affair. If a victim's voice is recorded, turned into a disc and played, they lose their speech. Until a new disc is played the phonograph will reproduce any words whispered to it in that victim's exact voice and vernacular. It does not come with recording equipment.

Currently hidden in the captain's cabin next to Winder's corpse.

The culprit behind the reported hauntings is Micky Putt, an orphan who has hashed out a deal with the pod of Clever Carcass Squid living in the wreck. Micky hangs around Carrion Town looking for newcomers, then offers to lead them to the wreck for salvaging.

Upon arrival they promptly disappear and use the phonograph to scare the would be salvagers while the octopuses steal their valuables.

Micky Putt

2hp, STR 6, Stolen Knife (d6)

Surprisingly tidy and new clothes.

    - Acts as innocent and charmingly childish as possible

    - Can be fairly reasonable however, and willing to adapt

The Driftwood Tower

More of a pile than a tower, really. A tall, teetering edifice of old grey driftwood built above the tide on a rocky point. One can just barely make it out on the horizon from Carrion Town, a good day's journey away. 

Within, the tower is hollow all the way through but at the base a staircase winds down into the rock. Beneath is a small labyrinth of tunnels inhabited by a dying Machine held together by a patchwork of bone and seal leather.

The Machine will put intruders through traps and tribulations in a desperate attempt to drive them away. At the center of the labyrinth lies this oddity.

The Narwhal Horn (d8)

If broken, summons a Polyhorn Narwhal to the breaker's aid. They will demand tribute when done. If you pay it they will give you a new horn in return.

Thanks to Yochai Gal for helping edit the content!

More Wonderful Art!

Several NPCs for Electric Bastionland written by me and generously illustrated by the talented Roque Romero!

You can find their instagram here, their website here, and the Clay Shelf, a deep country adventure locale written by Yochai Gal and illustrated by Roque Romero, here.

Use these bastiards as you will but please credit me and defiantly Roque Romero.

Exhausting Magic

Matthieu Cousin

Ruminations over on the Bastionland Discord got me thinking about a potential magic system to use with Electric Bastionland and Into the Odd. 

One of the things (in a list of many) that EB does really well is mechanically express exhaustion. The cycle of rest, full hp, lose hp, rest again. With added modifiers like becoming Deprived and not healing. 

Thusly from this formed the nucleus of an idea. Expend all your hp to do a magic, then regain the hp after a rest. Basically expending yourself to exhaustion when doing magic.

No need for spell slots, or once a day casting, it naturally balances itself out and fits neatly into the existing play cycle. It forces players to plan, makes wizards "squishy" without weird class restrictions, and is flexible enough to allow for player (and GM) creativity.

Without further ado here it is...

Core Rules

• Sacrifice all HP to cast a spell.
• Cannot (safely) cast again until HP is recovered.
• Unlimited spells per day.
• As long as you have HP to sacrifice you can cast.

Optional Rules

Casting Without HP

• Possible but dangerous and costly
• For each spell cast while not having HP do one die of damage.
• Increase the die size for each spell cast without HP; d4 -> d6 -> d8 -> etc...
• Example: Merdoc is out of HP but casts anyway, they have 12 Cha/Wil and roll a 3 on a d4. Reducing their Cha/Wil to 9. They cast again rolling 5 dmg on a d6. Now at Cha/Wil of 3.

Banking Spells

• Same as casting, sacrifice full HP to invest an object with a spell.
• Items imbued with magic must be durable or will burn up/melt when the spell is cast.
• If banking spells is done during downtime it is recommend that a limit or cost be set.
• For Example: While camping in a dungeon Emily banks several spells at the cost of getting a good nights rest. So the next morning she is at full HP but Deprived until she sleeps.

Magical Items

• Similar to banking spells, magical items can contain a single spell recharged by sacrificing HP.
• This is the most iffy mechanic to be honest. But a potentially workable one.

Layman's Magic

• Anyone can do magic if they learn or are taught the secrets.
• However people with a background/failed career/what-have-you in magic will get a 'cantrip' or permanent ability to use without spending HP.

Thats about it all really. Lots of room for modification and hacking though!

The House Which Walks (an art)

An art! By me!

The House Which Walks - 6hp, Armour 2

A strange steam powered contraption that strides across the wastes.

Glory To the Deprived Tag!

Electric Bastionland is a fantastik game for so many reasons. Today we're not going to talk about any of them and instead talk about the Deprived tag.

I love the Deprived tag. I love this tag more than I love existence itself. It is pure elegance in design. The pinnacle of anything Chris McDowall has written. It does not get better than this my friends!

Within this single word a myriad of circumstance and situation are open to you!

You're Deprived if you don't wear this tiny hat.

You're Deprived if you don't take this drug.

You're Deprived if you get lonely.

Somehow this tag condenses down what might have been a positive grab-bag of official and house rules that go on for paragraphs into a... single... word...

So Glory To The Deprived Tag! Finest Mechanic To Grace The Pages Of Any RPG!

Geography of the Tidal Flats

The Great Tidal Flats

A massive mudflat, mostly submerged at high tide and revealed at low, stretching for many many miles. It is home to a myriad of crustaceans, various species of mollusks, a proliferance of sea birds, some starfish, and lots and lots of kelp. 

Like this but really really big

The Flats

The low lying muddy areas that submerge at high tide. At low tide the area is picked by human and animal alike in search of mollusks and kelp to consume. Driftwood is also collected. This is where the families's great Siege Crabs do battle over territory disputes. Each family has a particular section of the mudflats claimed as their territory and hold the sole foraging rights to it.

The Rocky Shelves

Sparse, rock outcroppings ranging in size from a house to a ballpark. Here is where the families and their crab-steeds shelter at high tide. Rest is had and freshwater is collected. Many seabirds keep their nests here. It is a neutral space, little conflict happens here.

The Tides

Daily life flows to the tune of the tide. During the Morning High Tide people awaken, the great crabs stir, and preparations are made for the day's activities. During the Evening High Tide people rest and the night shifts awaken to ready for the nights low tide.

The families maintain baroque tidal calendars that measure the seasonal fluctuations.

SEIGE CRABS OF THE TIDAL FLATS!

Far from Bastion, on the distant mudflats roam mighty crustaceans blatantly defying the square cube law with their massive bulk. Atop their carapaces have been carved fortresses and cities for the families that rule this place. 

The families guide their beasts across the Tidal Flats foraging for mollusks, kelp, and pearls. And on occasion, the families FIGHT! Goading their fortress steeds into battle! Crustacean versus crustacean. Claw, cannon, and grappling hook! As the families do battle over territory.

FIIIGGGHHHHTTTTT!!!!!

SEIGE CRABS OF THE TIDAL FLATS is micro-setting loosely tied into the Bastionland 'verse about the distant land of the Tidal Flats and the strange culture that inhabit it.

It is currently in production.

Featured within will be the details of the High Crab Families and a guide to generate your own. Details about the culture of the Tidal Flats. Currency, Treasure, Trade. Unique monsters. Adventure hooks. And many, many random tables.

Coming soon.... To a crab fighting ring near you.