The whole world changed without warning with a betrayal. Or, with a blatant act of PvP that left one man standing. The story is as follows.
Back in, what, 2005, I as hosting a one-off session. I normally draw the line at four players, two being my optimal group-size, and one-on-one being what I play the most. I might get in to the advantages and drawbacks of these different types of play later. Anyway, this time I think we were a total of six or seven guys gathered for the game. Now, I knew that most of the players would not be available for a follow-up session, so I didn't plan for a long story-line. Truth be told, I didn't plan for much of a story-line at all. I had a plot-hook, and took it from there.
"You are all on the same ship, and there is a fierce storm blowing. The ship is thrown aground, and you are the survivors of a shipwreck." It might not have been verbatim, but that's the long and short of it. All went well, until they get to a great gate in the mountain. This just happened to be one of those gates that were locked, actually sealed, from the outside. Some of the characters seemed to think this was a problem, while the others didn't. To make a long story somewhat shorter, I'll just give the headlights.
A loud argument broke out about whether to open the gate or not. While the argument raged, one character snuck away and into the mountains, figuring he had better chances of survival on his own. Another character decided to just open the damn gate while the rest were fighting. Did I mention that this was one of those gates that had been sealed with seven seals, from the outside? Well, it was. The seals are broken, one by one, until the last is removed and the gates swing open. By now the group has discovered that the cat is about to be let out of the bag. Or, more to the point, the dragon. I hadn't actually planned for this, but it had to be something pretty awesome inside that mountain. And there you go. Awesome on a dragon scale.
The mythic beast made short process with the remaining characters, until one of them managed to get off a shot. A flintlock pistol against a dragon won't do much harm, but it made the dragon pause. "What new devilry is this?" I believe his exact words were. This is where one of the last survivors, a character by the name of Fanko da Cola, pulls his own pistol, shoots the other remaining character in the head at point blank, killing him instantly, bows before the dragon, and said, "I will tell you all about it, my master."
And at this point it had gotten late, we had no living characters, except for the one who made for the mountains, and Franko, and we called it a night.
This incident happened to be the birth of the Book of Worlds.
Back in, what, 2005, I as hosting a one-off session. I normally draw the line at four players, two being my optimal group-size, and one-on-one being what I play the most. I might get in to the advantages and drawbacks of these different types of play later. Anyway, this time I think we were a total of six or seven guys gathered for the game. Now, I knew that most of the players would not be available for a follow-up session, so I didn't plan for a long story-line. Truth be told, I didn't plan for much of a story-line at all. I had a plot-hook, and took it from there.
"You are all on the same ship, and there is a fierce storm blowing. The ship is thrown aground, and you are the survivors of a shipwreck." It might not have been verbatim, but that's the long and short of it. All went well, until they get to a great gate in the mountain. This just happened to be one of those gates that were locked, actually sealed, from the outside. Some of the characters seemed to think this was a problem, while the others didn't. To make a long story somewhat shorter, I'll just give the headlights.
A loud argument broke out about whether to open the gate or not. While the argument raged, one character snuck away and into the mountains, figuring he had better chances of survival on his own. Another character decided to just open the damn gate while the rest were fighting. Did I mention that this was one of those gates that had been sealed with seven seals, from the outside? Well, it was. The seals are broken, one by one, until the last is removed and the gates swing open. By now the group has discovered that the cat is about to be let out of the bag. Or, more to the point, the dragon. I hadn't actually planned for this, but it had to be something pretty awesome inside that mountain. And there you go. Awesome on a dragon scale.
The mythic beast made short process with the remaining characters, until one of them managed to get off a shot. A flintlock pistol against a dragon won't do much harm, but it made the dragon pause. "What new devilry is this?" I believe his exact words were. This is where one of the last survivors, a character by the name of Fanko da Cola, pulls his own pistol, shoots the other remaining character in the head at point blank, killing him instantly, bows before the dragon, and said, "I will tell you all about it, my master."
And at this point it had gotten late, we had no living characters, except for the one who made for the mountains, and Franko, and we called it a night.
This incident happened to be the birth of the Book of Worlds.
Next: A Short Introduction
(edited to weed out the legion of typos)
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