Tale #1: The Camel Train

[Samwell Turleton]

When characters are ready to go we will kick things off.

[Samwell Turleton]

Tale #1: The Camel Train

Ankle deep clouds of dust were drifting through the Casketlands the morning the camel train arrived. The wind blowing gently from the northeast could blow viciously, or not at all, but it was light today. The days leading up to their arrival had been hotter than most and it had been a quiet period in the Casketlands - no dangers that the *madman of the northern hills had foreseen.

The camels lumbered in together burdened with their trade goods. The people that first came across the creatures, two of **Molly's boys, were revolted by their blood matted fur, stench, and stubbornness. More patient folks helped the creatures out of their rope bridles and unloaded the goods out in the street. The last camel that arrived was dragging along a frayed rope suggesting it wasn’t the last animal in the train. The rope is stained black at the end. The camels all had a great thirst and stayed at the watering hole through the morning.

Townsfolk gathered interested in the goods and what will become of them as the camels rested nearby. Each animal carried two large satchels, waterskins, and large blocks of salt tied with rope over blankets. Satchels were filled with stale flatbreads, dry salted meats, and small pouches filled with a syrupy substance that you assume is a salve. One camel carried more unique goods, satchels and waterskins as the others, but on its back a sealed wooden crate. The crate gets unceremoniously pried open in the street to the anticipation of the onlookers. Its contents include a number of small stoppered terra-cotta jars filled with rich smelling spices; small folded slips of parchment containing numerous seeds, each different; a box with a pungent white substance; a tray of 12 unidentifiable liquids in small glass vials; a small pouch with a dried gray-green substance in it; a trade ledger; and a tattered map. The crowd roils around as the goods remain unclaimed.

Before the crowd descends on the piles in the streets a message comes from the voiceless madman, Loam of the northern hills, brought by the barback Tuck. A town meeting is called where it is discussed that a search should be made for the lost caravan. The caravan was expected to bring more - the shredded rope at the end of the line a telltale sign of missing camels - the ones missing are sure to be those that carried some important equipment needed to sustain the Casketlands for the coming year. A deputy nicknamed reckless Lou stands and declares herself the first volunteer before a call for volunteers is even made.

Before other volunteers have a chance to join in the call an old man not often seen in town interrupts. “You don’t see much of me around these parts. I have a ranch that starts on the north edge of town. A few days ago I started finding some of my goats ripped to shreds. This morning there was another one.”

He doesn’t say as much but he is expecting some help figuring out what is causing the mutilations. He gets cut off as the crowd shifts focus back on the camel train discussion. There is a swell of noise as many try to talk at the same time. Tuck's voice cuts through the clamor and he is the second volunteer for the search party.

Introduce your characters and place them in the Casketlands. Describe how they react to the unexpected arrival of the camel train, place them in the crowd watching the unloading of goods, and/or react to the town hall.

Start the section with the character name and type in bold and underline. Use bold to highlight when you reference other PCs or NPCs to make it easier for other players to reference.


*The hermit madman Loam is said to be an original resident to the area before the diaspora arrived. Very few people have directly interacted with Loam but he is obviously important to the Casketlands, calling meetings vital to the survival of the community, warning of impending weather events, and foreseeing cataclysmic threats. He lives on the northern hill where he collects black dirt in a shelter surrounded by sticks, bones, and other oddities.

**Molly is an influential business leader and developer in the Casketlands responsible for the construction of a number of institutions. These are funded by providing any service you need. Molly's boys are some of her employees.

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley the Limping Four-toothed

Old Munkley has seen many strange things through the years. Troubadours from the east, singing of pestilence and fire; crazed dervishes, their bodies lacerated with a thousand whip-strokes; men without eyes; cannibals, madmen, great lizards, coyote raids, always and ever death at every door.

Old Munkley limped through it all, buried the slain, sometimes unburied them too, cast his weird rituals and grit his diminishing collection of teeth against the sandstorms.

He volunteers, his voice shrill and tremulous. "I... will search for the lost caravan."

He goes to grab things to prepare for the journey. A waterskin; a bit of food; a few bits and bobs of weird things in easy arm's reach (the vials and the pouch); and the map. He hopes his failing eyes will not have to read the map without help.

[Bluehorse]

Sheriff Wyatte Cockrin stood on the boardwalk under the cover of the front of the Sherriff's office. He watched the proceedings and listened.

Sweeping a gaze over the crowd, he gauged their reactions to the news and sighed. Hearing Lou volunteer he bit down on his cigar a little more. The there was Tuck.

Ah, shit.... he stepped out into the sun and adjusted his hat and walked into the crowd. A hard eyed glance around to everyone. This sherriff business was still new to him, but he knew he had to keep panic down.

Okay, listen up. We can't go full bore into this without some idea of what we're dealing with.
The caravan is important, but so is the livestock.
And these things might well be related. I'm heading to the Old Timer's ranch. Deputy Festus is going to be in charge in my absence. Anyone that wants to come along with me is welcome.
Lou, you can lead a team to check for the missing camel train. I have a feeling we will be meeting up soon.

[Marullus]

Lenny and George

The brothers Lenny and George laze upon the old wooden chairs on the porch of the general store, as they do most days, waiting for someone to need them for some kind of work. Sometimes its chopping wood, or digging postholes, but most often it is Old Munkley needing a grave dug -- puttin' something in or takin' it out -- out among the caskets. It's Sheriff Wyatte who pays the best, though, coffers coming with his badge, and all. George holds his pocketwatch in his hand, turning it over and over absently as time fails to pass swiftly enough to need checking. Lenny sits beside him, legs stuck out and balancing on his bootheels, happilly chewing bits from a crusty end of breadloaf he holds in his broad hands.

George spits a brown wad as the camels first saunter up, the quiet, constant banter between him and his brother ignored by most as they sit on the porch.
"Somethin's wrong with that horse, George."
"Not a horse, dummy. See that long neck? It's a humpty-thing. A..."
"A camel," interrupts Molly tersely as she passes them, coming out from the General Store and clucking like a hen at her boys, shooing them away as they exclaim loudly at the novelty of the blood-matted, smelly beasts.
"Yeah. Like I said, Lenny, a camel," continues George, officiously.
"You said humpty-thing, George."
"...and clearly not horses," George continues, ignoring the interjection. "A caravan, clearly, comin' from far off parts, you see..." George leans forward, elbows on his knees, and squints down his sharp nose to watch the goods begin unloading with interest. "Unclaimed goods, at that, Lenny. You see those packets? That's seeds, boy. Just the kind of thing we need for when we get to farmin'."
"We ain't got a farm, George," observes Lenny, swatting a mosquito on his broad arm.
"We just ain' got seeds, Lenny. You know we gonna do it. Grow good things from the dirt, not just puttin' dead things under. Ain' nobody gonna do it better, you'll see," responds George, snapping shut the pocketwatch and tucking it away as he pushes up onto his feet.
"Mamma always said all we need is pick an' a shovel," nods Lenny with a happy smile, picking up their rucksacks and shovels as he does.

George saunters casually forward, Lenny rising and following behind. George helps lift down some crates; Lenny smiles and pets the blood-matted camel gently. "Sherriff ain' gonna like first-come first-serve," whispers Lenny in a worried tone as he looks at George, who is helping sort the now-open crate. Before George responds, Tuck speaks up, "Got a message from Loam in the Hills," the barback says loudly. "Momma wouldn' like you thinkin' that," says Lenny, George already dropping seed packets back into the crate. George sighs, turning his attention to the Town Meeting with everyone else. "You ain' thinkin' anything but Dinner, Lenny, an' you just finished lunch."

...

"You know you can count on us, Sheriff Wyatte" states George loudly, hooking his thumbs on the buttons of his suspenders. "Goats have wiry fur," nods Lenny, looming next to him, shovels over his shoulder. "That ain' what he... just shush, dummy," hisses George aside at his brother.
"You know we's good for most any job, and free to come along," George continues to the Sheriff. "...paid in seeds AND fancy seasonin', George?" murmurs Lenny, as if finishing a sentence.

[Samwell Turleton]

Molly shoulders through the crowd as the town hall begins to come to a close and positions herself in front of the trade goods laid out in the dust of the road. The orderliness of the goods has been upset by the limping undertaker Old Munkley who picked around for a few of the more *unusual items. The crowd gave the old man space as he hobbled through, courtesy… maybe, or disturbed by the old man and not wanting to be too close. A few folks hold their tongues but are annoyed while others are engrossed in the drama of the call for volunteers. Molly takes command of the situation on the street while Wyatte takes command of organizing volunteers, “Okay, listen up. We can't go full bore into this without some idea of what we're dealing with. I'm heading to the Old Timer's ranch. Deputy Festus is going to be in charge in my absence.”

Deputy Festus nods his agreement and spits in the street. Tap…tap…tap… a finger on the leather of his gun belt drums out a slow and steady beat as he looks over the crowd.

In the street, the brothers Lenny and George paw through the seed packets, Lenny says, "You know we's good for most any job, and free to come along” and George as if finishing the sentence, “…paid in seeds AND fancy seasonin', George?" Molly pushes their hands out of the crate and rifles through the packets before addressing the crowd, “before all of you animals descend on these goods we need a plan for how to fairly distribute it.” The crowd doesn’t like that much at all. She hands the crate off to her boys for safekeeping. “We’ll come up with something fair to distribute the wealth, don’t y’all worry yourselves about it”, she says. She addresses George and Lenny more quietly, “you boys keep the Sheriff safe now and you’ll get your share of these.”

As Molly and Molly’s boys leave the scene the crowd descends on the remaining goods. It isn’t clear who throws the first punch but Tuck throws some hard right hooks and catches a young man on the jaw - the large rings covering the knuckles on each of Tuck’s fingers leave indentations as the man goes down in the dust, seeing stars.

There are a few more hard-looking folks eager for a fight and look like they have been in a few; there are people grabbing what they can of the supplies in the street; and there are people clearing the scene. Two more young men are bearing down on Tuck and he is eager to continue to brawl.

*Tattered Map
The map is an abstraction of what you know the region to look like, however, you can understand what is suggested in the symbols. It indicates a trade route that the merchants were following and you can determine that it is coded with many layers of information from many years traveling. There are some more obvious things that appear aggressively marked on the map in smudged charcoal which seems like warnings and hazards; more delicately drawn symbols suggest safe places to rest and wells; and still other symbols are cryptic and hard to place a meaning to. The legend in the corner has faded beyond legibility and the map is insect eaten and faded but there are symbols scattered across the surface of the sheepskin map that can still be made out. The first thing that catches your attention is an area that is clear to be the Casketlands marked with myriad thick black marks and representations of the hoodoos. Outside of the area representing the Casketlands there are little circles, the borders formed of rounded rectangles, that show up in a number of ways and some seem to have a connection to the lines of the trade route. Some of these have been crossed through with charcoal smudged across the skin around it; some of these have an indigo dot marked in the centers; and yet others have a ring of dots encircling the symbol. There are other dashes and color marks around each of these symbols that you can’t begin to understand what they represent.

Sack with the gray-green substance
It is discernible as a plant material and appears to be from a cacti but bears no visible spines.

Vials
12 small 1oz vials stoppered with cork and sealed with yellow wax. They appear to be in pairs so that there are six distinct types - (2) clear liquid but bubbles when tapped, (2) transparent and amber colored liquid, (2) cloudy gray liquid, (2) black and viscous liquid, (2) opaque white with flecks of gold leaf in suspension, and (2) cloudy yellow-green liquid.

Waterskin
The waterskins are sized for long distance travel and not intended for individual use. It will extend the distance you can travel on your search if you bring a camel with you. Each of you carry a personal canteen that contains 10 servings of water. If you are traveling with a pack animal carrying a waterskin you will not be required to drink from your personal supply but note that they are stubborn, vulnerable animals.


The two volunteer groups consist of Lenny, George, and the Sheriff planning to head north to the ranch lands with the old man; and the second group is Tuck, Lou, and Old Munkley about to prepare a search party for the missing caravan. Narrate your interactions as the town hall deteriorates into a brawl.

Tuck is engaged in the fighting.
The old rancher is eager to leave the scene.
There are still the more common supplies scattered throughout the streets.

Roll brawn if you participate in a fight.
Roll Manipulate, Trick, Bribe if you want to use your words.
Feel free to justify using another ability in your description and roll for that.

[Samwell Turleton]

Summary of Basic Moves
Survive (+Backbone)
Give Aid (+Backbone)
Investigate (+Smooth)
Attack (+Brawn)
Shield (+Brawn)
Manipulate, Trick, Bribe (+Trick)
Assess (+Smooth)
Conjure (+Creep)

Success
Roll on 2d6
10+ You do exactly what you intended.
7-9 You do it, but something goes awry
6 or less - that didn’t go well, the guide will dictate your fate

[Marullus]

George nods solemnly; he always liked Molly. She knew how to say things so they made sense.

The pair were still standing amongst the crates when people started rushing in. "Hey now! She said it'd be fair!" George objected as he stood before the crates. Then Tuck knocked someone out with a right hook. Lenny rose up like a Colossus between Tuck and the two oncoming men. "Nobody hurts the Lunch Man," he says in a disturbingly solemn tone, his long, beefy arms holding each of the opponents at an ineffectual distance. George tries to guard the goods, throwing punches until the Sheriff can bring some order, but he goes down out of sight under a surging crowd...

Lenny [2d6+3] = 9+3 = 12 (shield); George [2d6+2] = 3+2 = 5 (brawl)

[Bluehorse]

BANG!

Sherriff Wyatte fires a round into the air. That'll do. Now straighten up, make a line, and act civilized. Next one to throw a punch, you'll spend a day in jail and pay a fine of 5 gold.

Trick [2d6+2] = 11+2 = 13

With that he will walk out into the street making sure everyone calms down. He will look over the goods trying to figure out what the various liquids might be. Anyone seen Doc?
Maybe he will know what some of these things are. Lenny thanks for stepping up. George good thinking protecting the goods.
Make sure that you two grab a waterskin. In fact everyone heading out grab one.

Munkley, you've been here longer than anyone I can think of: know what these markings could stand for on this map?

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley the Limping Four-toothed sidesteps the fighting as it begins, leering at the carnage. Sweet violence. What wouldn't he give for his youthful bravado once again. On another day he would have forced his mind into somebody's body, fought vicariously through their puppet-flesh. But today he has work to do.

Munkley sidles up next to Sheriff Wyatte and fixes him with his better eye. "Looks like a travel map, Sheriff. The merchants have been around these parts many times. Can't quite make out most of the details. Danger and peace seem to be marked here, though, and other stuff. I'll go see what the ancient spirits have to say, don't you worry..."

He grins vaguely, stuffs the map into his tattered trousers, and begins limping away, back to his special spot in the rotten grotto. Here among the dead husks of birches, he collects some of his rat bones around the map, forming a crude circle. Tremulous-voiced he calls into the heavens the names of Asher, Naphtali, Issachar; Asher, Naphtali, Issachar; Asher, Naphtali, Issachar...

"Tell me of the men and women that wrote upon this map..." he shrieks. "Make their writings manifest..."

Conjure [2d6+2] = 9+2 = 11

[Samwell Turleton]

Sheriff Wyatte fires a shot into the air and the surprise reverberates through the remaining crowd. The townsfolk who were gathering goods from the piles hurry back indoors carrying away what they can and leaving behind a large portion of the supplies in the street. The camels who had been draining water from nearby troughs run off in all directions unburdened by their goods...who was responsible for tying up these animals properly anyways?

All the camels that is but one. It is a strong looking camel that continues drinking from the well. It looks up and spits...

Deputy Festus mutters under his breath... "The noise is going to bring them into town again. We'll need to be gettin' ready. He shifts his weight pushing off the post he is leaning on with his shoulder, turns, and heads back into the sheriff's office.

The crowd pushes past and around the brawlers in the street. George throws a punch that clips the ear of a sandy haired young man with a smirk on his face that asks for trouble. The rushing crowd carry George further off balance and he ends up down in the street. There are folks in town who don't respect the authority of the new Sheriff. A few of those are brawling in the street in front of him. Lenny rises up like a Colossus between Tuck and the two oncoming men. "Nobody hurts the Lunch Man," he says as he grabs the two men, one in each hand at arm's length. Tuck sees the opportunity and throws a wild punch knocking another in the gut and taking her breath from her. The brute strength of Lenny and Tuck causes the group to reconsider the fight and they crawl away in the dust with what is left of their dignity.

The sheriff provides direction to organize the search party and the group heading to the ranch as he walks in the street. He sidles up alongside Old Munkley, know what these markings could stand for on this map? The sheriff and Old Munkley look over the map and recognize that the trade caravan was arriving to the Casketlands from the northeast. This is consistent with the direction the camels arrived from. Without responding the undertaker retreats into the darkness between two buildings - abandoned space and neglected trees. As he performs his ritual the husks of the birch trees creak and moan, the dust around the map lifts and drifts across the surface, the bones tremble gently and click where they rub together as the ritual continues. The dust settles onto the map - not fixing itself to the surface but *revealing information that had been faded and **revealing new information that had not been there previously.

*I will give you some of the legend information that was faded.
**I am working on a visual and will upload it when I have it completed.

The crowd has dispersed, there are ample supplies for both groups to collect from the street, there is only one camel to split between the groups that you can decide on taking with you or not, Old Munkley's ritual provides some clarity about the symbols on the map and revealed a little more information (this will be shared visually soon).

[Samwell Turleton]

Trader's Map

Trader's Map.jpg (650.63 KiB) Viewed 1849 times

This represents the information that you can see on the map and the information that is revealed to Old Munkley through his ritual. This revealed information includes: the time to travel between locations (in days); notes of caution about particular locations; a reference to “a people of the unbidden wind”; and the two unnamed locations that are represented by a symbol of a building in the bottom left of the map and the bird located left of the partial legend weren’t originally on the map.

[Marullus]

George gets himself up off the ground and dusts himself off, giving terse looks to anyone who comes close or makes eye contact. He plucks a satchel filled with stale flatbreads, dry salted meats, and small pouches filled with a syrupy substance that he assumes is a salve, slinging it over his shoulder. The good crate was taken by Molly, of course, and he gives a wary eye to the wierd vials. He falls in behind the sheriff, ready to follow him to the rancher's goats.

Lenny asks, "Ain' we takin' the spitty camel, George?" to which his brother shakes his head.
"We's only goin' to that rancher's place at the end of town, Lenny. We don't need the kind o' trouble that thing's gonna cause. Leave it for Munkley."
"Munkley gonna bury it," says Lenny sadly, wrinkling his nose. "Or unbury it again."

The big man sighs. "Bye, camel."

[Bluehorse]

Sherriff Cockrin heaves a sigh and walks to the pile of goods, keeping watch over the gathering so no one loses a hand while trying to stock up. For his part, he will grab a pair of canteens, one for himself and one for the Old Rancher, which he hands over to him. No sense in taking the risk of getting caught without extra water on a trip out of town. So how far is your ranch and what's your name, old timer?

Over his shoulder, he will shout towards the barbershop. Hey, Doc! Got some stuff out here I need you to take a look at.

He makes sure he is standing over the strange vials, determined to make sure what they are before letting just anyone walk off with them; besides, it might be some kind of medicine that Doc would have better use for... or maybe find out it is something Tuck can mix up into a good drink for later. Either way, he was sure that Doc would know.

[thenewflesh]

Old Munkley grins, four-toothedly, at the map. He folds it and puts it carefully in his pocket. "Thankee kindly, spirits of the place. I best be takin' my leave, now."

Before he leaves, to thank the spirits for their help, he places a single small withered strand of his daughter's hair in the bone-circle. And off he goes to inform the Sheriff of his findings. The Sheriff would be pleased, and the approval of the Sheriff was a very valuable commodity in the Casketlands.

[Samwell Turleton]

Old Munkley, having retreated to his grotto with the map for a ritual, leaves the vials in the street. The undertaker consults with spirits that have inhabited the husks of the birch trees and makes a sacrifice to them with a strand of his daughter's hair. This practice has seemed to work to appease the spirits of this place in the past, there is no reason to think this action would be any different this time. The broken trees and the bone circle remain eerily still and silent, as they were before the ritual.

Sheriff Cockrin and George don't like the look of the vials in the street. The vials are claimed for Old Munkley's own personal future use, whatever that may be, but caution and duty call the sheriff to act. Wyatte calls for the barber, "Hey, Doc! Got some stuff out here I need you to take a look at."

The sheriff calls a few more times. He is a little louder with each call. As everyone waits, Old Munkley returns to the Sheriff's side and tells him of the information that was revealed by the ritual and George gathers supplies from the street in a satchel. The two brothers and Old Munkley take positions behind the sheriff. The sheriff shoots the breeze with the old rancher trying to get some information. "You can call me Jeremiah", he says with a tired voice. "The ranch is just about a half day of walking to the north of here. The day is getting on so we should get on our way to be there by nightfall. You can stay at my place and have a look at one of the goats I hauled into a storage shed."

You hear stumbling footsteps behind you on the wooden planks of the sheriff's office. Deputy Festus stands in the doorway holding a ring of keys and Doc unsteadily walks out into the street. Doc is carrying a flask and taking long swigs of it. He clumsily comes off the steps into the dust, running a few steps and catching himself before he falls in the dust. He turns the flask upside down and looks with disappointment as only a drop falls into the dust. "Hey, any of you got a drink?". He eyes the sheriff, "Hey sheriff, you got any drink?" He notices the vials in the street and has hungry eyes for them. He grabs the nearest one and it bubbles a little as he picks the wax seal off the stopper and unseals the vial.

Random Vial Roll [1d12] = 2

The liquid bubbles furiously when the stopper comes off the vial. The liquid changing to gas as Doc tries to bring it to his mouth for a drink. "Curse my luck...". He begins to reach for another vial.

The afternoon is drawing on and it is getting closer to evening. The ranch can be reached by nightfall and Jeremiah has offered a place to rest and to see at least one of the goats. Doc is in a drunken state and you all saw the liquid in the vial disappear in a furious bubbling.

Actions?

[Marullus]

George is nervous and uncomfortable about the vials, and is more so as they act strangely for Doc. He hooks his thumbs on the front-buttons of his suspenders and waits for the Sheriff to follow Jeremiah. Lenny has lost interest in the camel for the moment, examining a booger on his pinky finger which he just dislodged. "Yeah, I got the shovels," Lenny replies absently to George, though George didn't ask. Lenny smiles broadly, "Good thing, though, if they's the twice-dead is they usually already got a hole dug, right George?"

[thenewflesh]

A light flares in Munkley's old eyes. He puts an ancient hand on the vial, and says "I'd best stay away from that if I were you. What's in these vials is no good for anyone. Don't want you turnin' into a frog now do we."

[Bluehorse]

Sherriff Wyatte looked over, seeing Doc apparently being let out from sleeping another bender from last night and shook his head. Dammit, Doc... One of these days you are going to succeed in defiling yourself and the only one going to be able to help you is Old Munkley's over here. he looked over to the Undertaker and rolled his eyes, shaking his head, the unspoken reply to the master of the dead that he didn't expect that to be far from now. Come over here and help him gather up and identify these vials, and maybe he can measure you for a nice casket while he's at it.

To Festus Thank you, again. If I am not back in 2 days, gather up a few folks and come looking. he will then share the info from the old rancher just to make sure that Deputy Fife has it before turning to Jeremiah This here is George and Lenny. They'll be coming along to help out. If everyone is ready, we'll be on our way.

If Molly is anywhere in sight, he will tip his hat before leaving.

Question. Are horses a thing or just camels? Or are we going to walk there and back?

[Samwell Turleton]

Horses and ponies do exist but they are more rare. There are a few in the Casketlands but it will take some effort to convince the owners to part with one - the priest is one owner