Dramatis Personae
+Red Flanagan as Classified
+Anthony Fournier as Losco
+Ronnie Whelan as Ronnina
+David Carli-Arnold as Acheron
+Moreven Brushwood as The Four Gobbos
Loot
None
Acheron Wishes
“That any sleeping dream I have will come true, in some fashion, within 3 sessions”
NPC Interactions
Lord Bautil – Party conferred with him on the subject of Vampires
The Fucksmith – Classified fucked them, then Ronnina convinced her to come set up shop in Trumpquatia.
Highlights Recap
The session began with Losco, the fighter, joining the group, and the party working together to determine what adventure they should pursue next. Half a dozen different ideas were floated, including: exploring the sewers in search of their former companion Varouj, attempting to hijack the Internet’s space ship, and investigating the territory of the Friends of Needletooth Jack. There was a good amount of discussion, but eventually the party decided that finally getting to the bottom of Needletooth Jack would be the most interesting pursuit.
The Gobbos, bored by all of this, played with a paddle ball.
Once the party had determined what they wanted to do next, they decided to have another interview with Lord Bautil, the vampire. [Note: Technically, their arrangement with the vampire ended several months ago. However, because of the way time progresses in the campaign, the players never actually had an opportunity to do anything with the arrangement they made. This was poor planning on my part, and as such, I will allow the players to act under the auspices of their deal with Bautil until I feel like he’s lived up to his end of their bargain.]
Bautil was happy to answer the party’s questions: he confirmed that Humans have a more-or-less complete list of Vampiric weaknesses already in their fiction. He noted that vampires are shy about the holy symbols of a particular religion which, thankfully, is no longer extant in the Dome.
He explained how a Vampire’s inability to enter a home worked: that it must be a place lived in for a week or so. The party proposed the idea of living in a tent, then carrying the tent somewhere to use it as protection from Vampires. Bautil confirmed that this would probably work, so long as they didn’t take the tent down. However, he warned that other means could be used to assail someone in a tent.
He mentioned that the sun’s light on Mars was much more bothersome to him than it had been on Earth, probably because he is closer. He also noted that the light of a different star might not be harmful to him, he didn’t know for sure. He also confirmed that, generally, vampires become stronger the longer they exist. He said he could lift an anvil when he was first turned, nearly 1000 years ago, but that now he could lift two or three cars, easily. His other abilities had become commensurately stronger as well, though his long imprisonment had weakened him.
Bautil waxed poetic about the wonders of an eternal life, and how humans only wrote fiction about it being ‘boring’ because they wanted to make themselves feel better about the inevitability of their own deaths.
When asked about Needletooth Jack, Bautil confirmed that he was a vampire, and expressed his contempt for him. NTJ is, apparently, only about 200 years old, has never known anything but the post apocalyptic dome, and is a fairly powerful Necrophage. He also engages in practices which Bautil, and other proper vampires, consider crass, and gouache.
Finally, Bautil confirmed that Vampires are immune to holy water. Furthermore, it was confirmed that Chuffy, because of his close relationship to the divine, is able to make holy water, if given enough time.
Armed with this knowledge, the party set to work. They gathered garlic from Trumpquatia’s farms, they purchased bits of silver that they chopped up into shrapnel, Chuffy made holy water that smelled suspiciously un-water-like, and they bundled these all up with grenades. Enough for every character to carry two each.
Thus prepared, the party set out for the Territory of the Friends of Needletooth Jack.
Whilst passing through the BDSM district, the party encountered a mutant changeling who called themselves The Fucksmith. They promised they could take on any form you desired, and create any sexual experience you could ever want.
Excited to finally be able to fuck the one person he’d always desired, Classified immediately paid her hefty service fee, and had some really good sex with himself. Before leaving, to waylay any suspicion, he told the changeling to transform itself into a dead looking Ronnina.
Ronnina was disturbed, but none the less thought the Fucksmith would make a valuable addition to Trumpquatia. She said that if the party could cover her basic income–1000cc per month–then she’d be happy to relocate her business, so long as she were able to operate it without paying them a cut. The deal was struck, and The Fucksmith said it would take her about a month to wrap up affairs here.
Further along, once the party had reached no-man’s land, they came upon a block war. Ronnina arbitrarily picked a side, used a sleep spell to get past the guards, then used Imbue Weapon to give the one fighter with a gun a +14 to their attacks, allowing them to quickly dispatch foe after foe across the street.
Then Ronnina left, and the party continued on its way.
Finally, they came to the buildings wrapped in fleshy tendrils. Rather than investigate their immediate surroundings at all, the party moved forward boldly. Before long, they encountered a group of 15 ghoulish looking creatures. The party attempted parley, and at first it seemed to be working. But then it seemed like the lead ghoul was responding to something the party could not hear, and the group attacked.
The party acquitted themselves well, wiping out half the undead attackers before they were able to take their first action. However, over the course of the battle, nearly every character in the party took damage, was required to make a saving throw, and failed. After they failed they began to feel drowsy. Each was able to take a single other turn before falling asleep.
By sheer dint of will and of luck, the party managed to completely wipe out the party of attacking Ghouls. But, shortly thereafter, everyone collapsed into a snoring heap. Only three of the gobbos–Chuffy, Poog, and Mogmurch–remained standing.
This was not quite the end, however, as the players asked to know what sort of things they dreamed about. And, as it happens, I started writing a d100 table of dreams about 3 years ago, which I never finished because around #65 I decided it was a stupid idea.
Using digital trickery, Acheron and and Losco rolled a d65, and each had a dream.
Acheron: You fall from a horse, and your head snaps around. You try to pull yourself to your feet, but realize that your head is on backwards. Your body doesn’t move correctly beneath you, and you fall to the ground again and again as you try to stand or walk. A stranger wearing one of your mother’s dresses comes by. He shakes his head in disappointment with you, and stabs you with a kitchen knife.
Losco: Your hands balooned up, with your fingers becoming too thick to grasp anything.
Acheron also wished, whilst sleeping, that any sleeping dreams he had would come true–in some form or another–within 3 sessions of his having them. So that’s a thing.
The session then ended, in media res.