solo-campaign-diary - Tumblr blog

solo-campaign-diary · 3 months

Text

#03: Leaving, part 1 cw: brief, nonspecific fictional suicidal ideation ------------------------------------------------------- Rin counted the few remaining coins in her purse a second time as she walked away from the market square. Seven silver and a copper half-dollar; fully half of her already paltry life savings spent on a handful of necessaries for the road--including a long walking staff that she hoped would at least suggest to any would-be threats on the road that she might be more trouble than she's worth. Not that she looked like she was carrying anything valuable, but that didn't stop bandits from waylaying peasants on the road into and out of town on occasion.

Rin hesitated for a moment in the dreary cobblestone street that would lead her to the gates and past the walls of the city, never to return. Probably, she thought. Probably never to return. It was not much comfort. She had been beyond the walls before, sure, but rarely alone and never for more than an overnight trip to one of the nearby towns. This was a far cry from a day trip to haggle with curmudgeonly farmers at one of the nearby villages. Now she was a heretic, an exile, and a conscripted crusader who had to retake a ruined city.

And, she was suddenly realizing, she had to get to that city, on the other side of the known world--the other side of the planet, as far as she was concerned. All roads to the Fallen West were their own flavor of perilous, if the rumors were to be believed.

The road through the north, once the seat of the land's nobility before they abandoned the Church, was now home to cursed beast-men who preyed on the flesh of their own people. To the south, the ever-encroaching Plague threatened to rot travelers as it rotted the denizens of the southlands until they were like walking corpses.

Perhaps worst of all, the straightest shot, heading due west, would take her straight through the untamed and unnatural woods. She'd heard so many conflicting stories of what lurked within that she couldn't be sure what to expect. All she knew was that those foolish enough to try taking that shortcut between the two other unappealing options were never heard from again.

Highwaymen and hungry beasts were the least of Rin's worries.

But those worries could wait. For now, she just needed to get to Greenlake, ideally before nightfall and before The Mooring Line, the grey town's cramped inn, was filled with other travelers. A solid day's travel by foot. She had a good chance of making it if she left now. But with each step toward the gate it was harder and harder to take the next. Her hesitance was spiraling toward paralysis.

[How does Rin snap out of it? Keyword rolls: "Many" and "Damage." Since "rocks fall, Rin dies" feels anticlimactic, I'm going to interpret it thus: ]

Rin slowed to a halt. She thought for a desperate moment, grasping for any way she could avoid her fate. Her mind wandered to dark solutions. If she was stuck with death sentence, why prolong the walk to the gallows . . .

Her thoughts were interrupted as one of the holy guard collided with her as she stood in the claustrophobic street. He swore at her for blocking the road as he passed, leaving behind him the smell of incense from the guards' morning rites. Rin wrinkled her nose.

She shuddered, shaking her head as if to toss off the gruesome thoughts she had been entertaining. No, she was not going to give the self-righteous bastards the satisfaction of surrendering. Not just yet.

Briefly massaging her arm where the guard had checked her, she pulled her shoulders back, raised her chin, and walked out the gate, never to return, probably. She could almost convince herself it was better that way. *** Walking along the main road out of town, Rin took stock of her fellow travelers. Most seemed to be other folks from the city, probably to do trade in a nearby farming village, of which there were a few. They glanced askance at her freshly-seared hand, still an open wound. She wondered if the revulsion was from the wound itself or if they knew what it represented.

A few other travelers were evidently people from those nearby villages, heading home with empty carts if they were lucky. Rin considered for a moment whether she might join up with any of them. Numbers helped repel would-be bandits, who travelers more and more frequently reported on the nearby roads. Though of course, these travelers were strangers in their own right, and watching them walk, hunched and hooded in the chilled, still-foggy morning, she couldn't help but feel uneasy.

[Who does Rin see to consider joining? NPC table results: human, elderly, fishmonger, blase disposition. I imagine she has a son, also human, with a dutiful disposition but an independent streak]

Among the latter camp of travelers, Rin spotted an elderly woman walking alongside a mostly-empty cart of smelly fish, pulled by a mule. Leading the mule was a young man. Rin considered for a moment: [Wis. Roll: 8] they didn't seem likely to pose much of a threat to her, were headed in the right direction, and would increase her numbers without appearing to have anything worth stealing. Still, she couldn't completely shake her unease. Nevertheless, she decided it was worth the risk not to travel alone.

She approached.

***

#ttrpg #shadowdark #solo rpg

1 note · View note

solo-campaign-diary · 4 months

Text

#02: Goodbyes

Rin was definitely going to be sick. Exiled unless she could reconsecrate the temple of Sancta Solia? The city in the Fallen West, home to untold horrors deadly enough to slaughter bands of treasure-hunters and crusaders far, far stronger and better-armed than her? It was suicide. Probably drawn-out, painful suicide. She wasn't sure this was preferable to a swift execution.

The High Inquisitor approached the still-kneeling heretics. "Your right hand," she said to the halfling man called Blake a few people to Rin's left. He extended his hand hesitantly, then withdrew it back quickly with a yelp of pain. He examined his hand as he breathed sharply through his teeth. The Inquisitor approached the next in line, the human woman Seraphina. She, too, yelped in pain almost as soon as she had extended a shaky hand to the Inquisitor. Down the line the Inquisitor went until it was Rin's turn. This, Rin was ready for.

Saint Terragnis's mark--a holy symbol that would mark her as one of the church's crusaders, with all the rights and restrictions that came with it. In another context, this would be a great honor. Somehow, Rin felt this would be different.

The instant she presented her hand, searing pain burned into it, both in her palm and the back of her hand. She looked down at the freshly-burned mark and wondered where it would take her.

***

Back in her room--her actual room in the temple dormitories, not that dank cell that had held her for the past several days--Rin was confronted with just how unprepared she was to leave the temple halls, let alone the city. Although she had trained extensively with all manner of arms as a warrior-priest in training, the church owned them all. And though the church provided for her room and board, it also paid a pittance for her work.

"Hurry up already" came the guard's voice from the threshold of her small room. "You heard the High Inquisitor; you are to be outside the city walls by nightfall, tonight." Rin nodded, turned, and followed the guard out of her room. He unceremoniously closed the door behind her and locked it.

Walking down the hall, Rin hesitated. Though she held no love for this place, she did wish to say a last goodbye to her best (really, only) friend: Jennie

[Rolled character: Jennie, F, Halfling Priest (spell: shield of faith). Question: Are Rin and Jennie romantically involved? (Roll: 9). Answer: No, but... ...but Rin wishes they were.]

...Jennie. Rin stopped in front of her door. It was well past midnight, but she couldn't just leave without saying goodbye. The guard turned impatiently to her.

[Does Rin know the guard? +3 for familiarity with the temple personnel. (Roll: 13). Yes.]

"Jonathan, please. I just want to say goodbye, and the sun isn't even up yet, let alone setting."

[Cha. roll, -2, Advantage (knows him), DC 15. (Roll: 12). Failed.]

Jonathan looked at Rin, not entirely unkindly. "Rin," he said quietly, "you know I can't. You might have until sundown to leave the city, but Mother Superior wants you out of the temple immediately."

Rin hung her head in resignation. She blinked back tears as she let Jonathan lead her down the hall. Outside the temple grounds, the fresh air didn't seem quite as comforting as she had hoped.

"Pssst!" someone hissed from behind Rin. She turned, seeing no-one. "Down hear, of course!" the familiar voice said, seemingly from thin air.

"Jennie," Rin said, "must you always sneak around?" Jennie's halfling invisibility faded to reveal a grin she hoped seemed appropriately mischievous. But her smile did not hide her splotchy cheeks and puffy eyes from Rin.

"Well," said Jennie, her voice obstinately bright, "I had to sneak past Jonathan when he wouldn't let you see me, the ass." She stopped smiling. "Was that really going to be it, then? He says 'no' and you leave me forever without so much as a goodbye?" The lightness in her voice slipped as she spoke.

"You heard."

"Of course I fucking heard"--Rin always did marvel how such a genuinely pious person could swear so much--"I've been up all night, every night since you were charged. I couldn't sleep, I could hardly eat...Rin, I though you were going to die!"

"I did, too."

"And why didn't you? How didn't you? What happened?" Rin explained the sentencing, the crusade, the exile effective at sunset.

Jennie brightened, genuinely this time. "Rin, this is amazing! I mean, not you being exiled," she hurried to clarify, "but you've been spared! And you even have a chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of Saint Terragnis and return home!" Rin couldn't bring herself to look glad at her fate.

Noticing her friend's lack of appreciation for her miracle handed to her, Jennie continued. "Don't you see, you were meant for this, you were meant for Saint Terragnis's service! She's not abandoned you, she has a purpose for you still! I told you resigning was a mistake."

Rin did not want to rehash this. "Well if I hadn't resigned, I wouldn't have been sentenced and I wouldn't be on this quest," she said curtly, "which, by the way, is a suicide mission, hardly a blessing!" Rin, why are you doing this? she thought to herself. Why are you having this fight now? "So maybe it was Terragnis's grand plan for me to leave the church and become apostate so I could be sent on this crusade."

"You know that's not how this works," Jennie said seriously. "Apostasy is a crime; it's a heresy. Saint Terragnis would never lead you to heresy!"

"Then I guess I'm just a heretic, then!" Rin, stop. "I resigned from the priesthood because I don't want to be part of any stupid god's stupid plans." Do you want this to be the last thing she ever hears you say? "I didn't ask her to play with my fate!" Don't say it, Rin. "I don't think that makes me wrong. I think that makes her wrong!" Rin didn't notice she was nearly shouting now.

"Enough!" Jennie was shouting now, too. "You know I can't stand here and let you blaspheme like this! Saint Terragnis is a god, she is so far beyond our ability to question. Yet she blesses us; she blesses you!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "If you can experience such mercy and still reject her, then--"

"--then what, Jennie?" Rin interjected. "I do deserve to die on this crusade? Say it, since apparently your god says it."

Rin's words sat in the sudden silence between them like a wedge. "Jennie, I'm sorry, I..." Rin trailed; she didn't know what to say.

Jennie looked away as she spoke, her voice even and measured. "The sun is rising, Rin. You should get going if you want to make it to the next town by nightfall." She turned without looking at Rin and walked back toward the temple.

After a moment, Rin turned too.

#ttrpg #shadowdark #writing #fantasy #solo rpg

2 notes · View notes

solo-campaign-diary · 4 months

Text

#01: Sentencing

"Get up. It's time."

Rin blinked, as much from confusion as from the adjustment of going from days of total darkness in this cell to the light from the guard's lamp as he spoke. Hadn't she just heard the clock strike midnight somewhere outside? Or was it perhaps noon? It was hard to keep track. Either way, surely this was much too soon.

But her disbelief did not keep the guards from walking her and the other prisoners down the cramped stone hallways of the temple's catacombs. Panic began to rise within her.

As the accused (what a sick joke--no one accused of a heresy had been found innocent for at least as long as Rin had been alive) were corralled up the stairs leading from the dark hallways of the dungeon to the ground floor of the temple and toward the main hall, Rin caught a draft of fresh air through one of the cracked-open large temple doors. She savored the lack of mildew in the air. Would they execute her outside for an audience, as they occasionally did, or in some dank corner of the dungeon below, as was more often the case?

She ruefully hoped for the former. The lack of light pouring in from the stained-glass windows confirmed it really was the middle of the night. Perhaps she'd get to see the stars one last time. The night sky was so beautiful in spring.

Her grim musings were cut short as the prisoners were brought to a halt before the statue of Saint Terragnis, centered behind the altar and podium at the far end of the main hall. The doors to the outside were just behind her, not 100 feet away. If she could just turn around...

"Kneel" commanded the guard. The "accused" obeyed.

For what felt like a terribly long time, yet not nearly long enough, silence hung in the air. Then the High Inquisitor spoke from somewhere behind them.

"Blake Greyson. Heresy charged: smuggling deadly contraband." "Seraphina Jones. Heresy charged: forgery of church documents." "Janek Helmann. Heresy charged: murder by poisoning."

Down the line of accused she went, slowly circling to stand before them as she read the charges.

"Rin Doe"--Rin did her best not to jump at the sound of her name--"heresy charged: apostacy."

After the Inquisitor finished going down the line, she paused to take stock of the row of wretches before her. She said nothing, and Rin dared not look up at her, but Rin got the since the Inquisitor truly despised them.

After a moment, the Inquisitor spoke. "The High Inquisition has reviewed the allegations and finds them true. In the name of Saint Terragnis, and by the power vested in me as High Inquisitor of the church, I find you guilty and sentence you to death."

The panic that had been steadily rising in Rin gave way to complete hopelessness, almost a stillness.

". . . which sentence is stayed."

The heretics froze, not daring even to breathe. Rin feared she might be sick from the whiplash--had she heard correctly?

"The Pontifex hereby commands that in place of execution, those found guilty of heresy shall accept her mark and carry out her most holy crusade: to retake the fallen holy city of the west, Sancta Solia, and reconsecrate its temple.

"You are exiled from this Holy City of the East and commanded to undertake this holy mission, that you may yet earn a pardon and be brought back within the City and the Faith.

"Godspeed."

#ttrpg #shadowdark #dark fantasy #solo rpg #writing

1 note · View note

solo-campaign-diary · 4 months

Text

#00: Prologue

A woman in fine vestments knelt in dim torchlight before a hulking figure, her warrior-priest guards hanging back a respectful distance.

Usually, the chamber would be filled with the low bickering of Verhu and Arkh, the twin heads of the hulking creature, the Two-Headed Basilisk; the Oracles. But just now, they stood silent.

The two heads spoke as one: "Misery! Misery! Oh, Misery! Saint Terragnis's 999 blessings upon the land have at last run dry. Woe, oh earth! Cry, children of the land! Already, the seal begins to tear. Soon, all shall know His name again.

Seven Miseries shall befall this world.

There will not be an eighth."

The Oracles fell silent again.

Somewhere outside, a clock struck midnight. The woman rose without lifting her eyes to meet the beasts', bowed deeply to them, and turned. She addressed her guard as she strode past them: "Bring the accused, immediately. Their sentencing shall be expedited. There is much to do, and little time."

* * * In a small, dark cell, the accused heretics slept--really, laid restlessly on the damp floor--awaiting the inevitable.

Rin raised her head at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. The light of the dim lamp nearly blinded her as the footsteps rounded the corner of the stone hallway, banishing the near-total darkness she and the other now-roused accused had sat in for the past several days.

One of the High Inquisitor's guard addressed the prisoners as an iron key rattled and the cell door swung open. "Get up. It's time."

#ttrpg #shadowdark #mork borg #solo rpg #writing #dark fantasy

1 note · View note