1. - Top - End - #232
    Ogre in the Playground
    Join Date
    Oct 2012
    Bat Country

    Default Re: At the edge of Humanity : A 3.5 Monstrous game

    Equipment is done.
    I've also added some more backstory detail. This was going to end up super long so I had to tap the brakes a bit at the end.
    Auntie Ivy and her band could be a potential plot hook. Or not. If Corvus is starting out with "there are no other monsters anywhere nearby" then assume the monster hunters have wiped them out.

    Spoiler: Backstory stuff

    The plague spread through the city swiftly, filling the hospitals and overwhelming the Clerics and physicians. It started like a simple cold, but those worst afflicted were soon struggling for breath. Oddly, this disease was more dangerous to young adults than to children and elders... (OOC: This was basically the Spanish Influenza of 1918) Omar was already slipping in and out of consciousness as he was carried from the student hostel to the hospital. He remembered nothing of the next several days. Instead there were the dreams. Scenes from fairy tales... or from campfire horror stories. Creatures monstrous, beautiful... or both... speaking to him in a strange tongue he somehow understood. Events from what appeared to be a dozen different lifetimes. And always in the background, a woman made of wood, crying tears of white, acrid sap... She whispered to him... then shouted at him... Fight, my child! Endure! Survive...

    Omar woke up feeling... wonderful. He was hungry and thirsty but also filled with energy. He felt no trace of his illness. The fever, nausea and dizziness were gone. His breath came without effort... He shifted in the bed, ready to stand up... then he began to notice things. His body, under the sheets. It looked like a skeleton draped with cloth, impossibly emaciated. The ward.. it had held almost a dozen patients when he arrived. Now it was empty, the other beds stripped down to the mattresses. And the voices... they were coming from everywhere. Sick people coughing and moaning. Nurses and doctors conferring. Someone asking how long it would be before his daughter was ready to go home. Conversations coming from what must have been many rooms away. He could hear everything. A mouse behind a baseboard. Somebody wheeling a handcart in the street, 5 floors below. And he could see... It was dusk outside, and the large room was only illuminated by one small oil lamp. But to Omar the ward appeared to be as brightly lit as an operating theater. And the colors. They were so... deep... now. He didn't really have the words to explain it. Or did he? Suddenly he recalled dozens of words in the language of his dreams, all of which referred to subtle gradations of hue and intensity not discernible to human eyes. So this was another dream. It had to be... In a panic he pushed aside the sheets and jumped to his feet. His now oddly skinny legs propelled him with unexpected force, and he nearly struck his head on the low ceiling. He took a few steps and then broke into an impromptu dance. Suddenly he felt so... good. So strong. On impulse he grabbed at the nearest piece of furniture. The heavy oak table came off the floor easily... But as he set it back down he noticed that there was something very wrong with his hand. It almost looked like part of the table... On suddenly wobbly legs he stumbled to the small steel mirror that was mounted next to the door. He stared at what he saw there for a long time...

    New voices in the hallway roused him from his shock, some instinct warning him of the importance of this particular conversation. "...sorry, but that is all that we can do. We'll have to leave this to the authorities. I've already sent word to the Wardens. They should be here any minute... The rest is in God's hands..." Omar tried the door. Locked, from the outside. Solid oak bound with iron. This had been a mental ward before the epidemic and its victims had filled up every available space... He strained at it, but even his new strength could not make it budge more than a fraction of an inch. The window? Barred. Only a few small panels opened to let in fresh air. Omar could now hear the tread of heavy boots from the stairwell... Seconds later, there was the sound of the lock opening and then the door burst open. Half a dozen soldiers poured into the room. Those in front brandished swords and truncheons. The two at the rear held some kind of poles with snares attached, like something a dogcatcher would use to control an unruly animal... "GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR! NOW!!" A nurse pushed through the door behind them... "Wait! Stop..." A soldier quickly shut her up, doubling her over with a sword pommel to the ribs. Omar was suddenly indignant... "What the hell was that for?!" The lead man, deciding that the formalities had been observed, lunged at him with his sword... Omar instinctively raised an arm in defense. The blade glanced off his woody skin, barely leaving a scratch. The soldier set himself for another swing, grimacing in horror and disgust. The rest of the squad moved to flank him... Without thinking, Omar took a deep breath and exhaled... A spray of gooey white liquid covered everyone in the room.. including the unfortunate nurse... and filled the air with an acrid stench. They were soon screaming and whimpering in agony as their skin began to bubble and slough away... Omar recoiled.... "nononononono..." his gorge finally rising and splashing the floor with yet more noxious liquid... He picked up the table and returned to the window, slamming it against the bars again and again. They would not give way... Behind him he vaguely noticed the noises of someone dragging the injured outside and closing the door behind them, followed by the sounds of the bolt being thrown and some piece of heavy furniture being dragged into place... But the damned bars would not break. Wait... the solution was obvious. He drenched the grate with another spray of caustic slime... then after a few more blows the entire assembly, window frame and all, broke loose and plunged to the street.To the street fifty feet below... Now what? But that question was just as quickly answered. He swung outside and began to climb down, the fine bristles on his hands and feet gripping the stone wall like a gecko's paws...

    Omar ran through the city, the sounds of shouts and booted feet and hoofbeats echoing from all the streets around him. He could not be seen. He must not be seen. So he was not seen. That's just how it worked, like so many of the sudden and strange and horrible things in his newborn second life. They just worked. Omar ran through the city, unseen. His footsteps made no sound. Like running in a dream. This had to be a dream... Right?

    A few further notes:

    -The first monster group that took in Omar was made up of mostly Fey creatures and Fey-blooded goblinoids. They were led by a nasty old Dryad known as Auntie Ivy. She was the embodiment of a thicket of poison ivy and, behind a motherly facade, had the personality to match. They lived in a warren inside and underneath a hollow redwood tree. (To get an idea of the group, think of a cross between Terminus from "Walking Dead" and the pirates from the old movie "The Island.")

    -The monsters at first treated Omar with kindness. But Ivy and her fellows became more demanding and abusive over time. It became apparent that, because of his human ancestry, they did not really trust him or consider him an equal. They kept him around because he was so useful as a spy. With magical aid he could still pass as human, and he knew subtle things about human culture, manners and behavior that the others could not match.

    -He stayed with the group because he saw no other choice. They claimed that they were part of some larger "Resistance " and liked to talk in slogans like "monsters of the world unite" and "there is no such thing as an innocent human," but Omar never met anyone outside their group. He took part in a few skirmishes against government troops, but he was mostly employed as a scout and spy. There were other secret missions that he was not allowed to join (the reasons for which would soon become all too clear)...

    -Auntie Ivy's group were not just freedom fighters. They were terrorists. They terrorized and murdered non-combatants.. not just driven by revenge but by the belief that humans were and always had been their natural prey. One night they returned from a 'secret" mission with prisoners in tow. Humans, mostly women and children. Auntie Ivy demanded that Omar join in the slaughter of the captives.. and the meal that would follow... in order to prove his allegiance to the group and his renunciation of his human past. He refused. He was bound, beaten and forced to watch as the prisoners were slaughtered and prepared for the table before he was dragged off to a cell. With Omar locked away, they settled down to their feast... The party lasted all night. Omar's jailers had been careless in securing him (they did not realize how quickly he could recover from injuries), and he slipped away while the others were still sleeping off a night of long pig, booze, drugs and other debauchery. There was a storm coming to cover his tracks, but Omar did not need the help. He had learned much about sneaking and escaping, and he would not be easily caught again...

    The sheet should be done, barring any mistakes...
    Last edited by Swami Monsoon; 2015-09-07 at 03:57 PM.
    "Do Driderettes buy their legwarmers in bulk?"