sessions. Similar to the Tales from session zero, the scene card will include two suggestions for Tones for a particular phase. They aren’t required to be used, but, if printed and used at the table, could offer some guidance for the setup or a character’s behavior. I will try to scale these to a 4”x7” index card for future printing.
Option A: Feral - A Rogue’s Phase within the Hunter’s Workshop
Option B: Insightful - A Perilous Phase in the Court of Gaols
Option A - 6, Option B - 1
A rippling puddle of liberty blue spreads across the dark earth of the Hunter’s Workshop. Blood colored petals gather and coalesce into the shadowed shape of a kneeling man, dark cape resting on his shoulders. He stands and takes in the desolate surroundings: a forgotten garden littered with grave markers, an ancient stone building that houses a Hunter’s tools, and the spectral gathering of messenger spirits within stone basins.
Beyond the wrought iron fence that lines the perimeter of the Hunter’s
Workshop, tall spires of stone emerge from an ocean of fog. Bolts of champagne and amber flicker within the mist. A howl cuts through the air from deep below, answered by the call of several others.
Overplayer picks up the dice and hands them to Sebastian.
Show us how you prepare for the Hunt.
Sebastian rolls for Tone: Feral - 4, Insightful - 5.
Sebastian awakens in the Hunter’s Dream, disappointment and determination warring
across his face. Disappointment that he has been called back into the Dream; determination, knowing that there are monstrosities that need to be dealt with. He reaches up and adjusts the leather tricorn, searching for his weapons with the other hand.
The pair of mercurial tonfa rest at his side, his own brand of trick weapon. Each house a
length of chain within the long end, and the shorter sides house the barrels of a pistol. As with all things in the Dream, the bullets come with a price: his own blood. Blood and silver. The two materials lethal to the beasts locked in the Hunter’s Dream.
He takes a step toward the Workshop; the messenger spirits glance over and call to him,
offering new wares they have for sale for a small handful of Blood Petals. Blood Petals. The remains of those defeated within the Hunter’s Dream. They have a few purposes and can be bartered for items, infused into weapons and replenish a Hunter’s diminishing supply as he takes wounds in battle.
Sebastian shrugs and walks over to the tiny gangly spirits. They don’t speak, not verbally, but
he hears their offers whispering in his mind. His hand reaches out and a crystalline rose of crimson blossoms in his palm. It wilts, leaving red petals resting in his hand. Each of their greedy eyes illuminate with golden light. One nods emphatically and snatches the Blood Petals quickly, leaving behind silver bullets in their place.
He turns and silently walks up the steps into the Workshop. The old stone building is just one
room lined with bookshelves, a fireplace, a workbench and a locker. The place has been used by generations of Hunters before him. Sebastian approaches the locker, feeling the call of the Old Ones from within. Whispers seep into his mind making false promises. He knows their promises are lies, but the runes locked away hold power. Power to destroy the beasts lurking in the Dream.
His first rune, the Old One’s Grasp. A stone with a rust colored sigil written upon its surface.
Eight twisted lengths form an eight pointed star, each line highlighted in a softly glowing ocher; more fuel for his limited ammunition. The next, a polished river stone with a single red line cutting across it, shorter red lines reach down from the first, a pair rising up; the Hunter’s Waters offers protection like a light suit of armor. The last, a runestone with a golden eye surrounded by rays of mud. The Rapture allows Sebastian to recover quicker from battle by infusing him with the blood of a fallen beast.
Sebastian picks up the dice and hands them to the Overplayer.
Show us what waits beyond the grave stone.
The littered streets of the Court of Gaols. Plagued bodies are roughly cast aside
to lie among the gutters. Broken carriages and equally broken horses accompany them. Small bonfires mark tiny areas of inhabitants almost entirely forgotten, alone against packs of ravenous creatures.
One such pack roams the cobblestone alleyways. A small band of people driven
mad being locked within the city’s district. Bloodshot eyes with pupils too far dilated. Blue veins pressing against too tight skin. They howl like feral things, and another responds in kind. Upon a rooftop, a large muscular form with lupine head and obsidian claws stands on two legs.
The Court belongs to him.
Sebastian presses his hand against the cold stone and disappears under a cloud
of rose petals.
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