Random hooks thread

[HuManBing]

The Eternal Order has made a tidy profit in an ongoing feud between two land owning families in the Darkonian countryside. Each side has met secretly with the Order to pay handsomely for curses, blessings, and social favors.

Recently, some do-gooder cretin has started making peace among the younger generation of these feuding houses. The Order is extremely concerned about this, and will pay the PCS to find out what sick pervert is going around spreading charity, goodwill, and other such social disruptions on their turf.

It's probably an Ezrite, knowing that lot.

[HuManBing]

A highwayman is running a classic Robin Hood operation - enriching himself at the expense of tradesmen and travellers, while passing on enough wealth to the impoverished peasants and local churches to keep the rural folks on his side.

Now the distant lord has sent out bounty hunters to capture or kill the highwayman and his bandits. On the one hand, the royal bounty is generous. On the other hand, the highwayman is well-loved by the churches (whose schools come from his takings) and by the local peasants alike. To make matters worse, some of the bounty hunters are extremely experienced folks and they're not interested in sharing the bounty - anybody allied with the highwayman may find themselves killed or injured as an operation of royal decree, but even those wishing to take him out may find themselves targets of bounty hunters as rivals.

[Hazgarn]

A remote village has begun to suffer several strange events: homes and property are being vandalized in gruesome fashion, and some residents describe falling victim to cruel attacks from an unseen force accompanied by mocking laughter and the stench of decay. Now, many of those previously targeted have begun to go missing, and the terrified villagers remaining are offering a reward for anyone capable of exorcizing the cruel spirit is plaguing the town before it is too late.

Unfortunately for those heeding the call, the culprit is not simply a ghost or unclean spirit. The truth is far worse, involving an alarming freak magical accident resulting in a strain of the Toben virus whose animated victims are completely and permanently invisible.

(I swear tried to compose a full justification of invisible Toben zombies, but it's late...)

[Zettaijin]

Another one of those "spot the reference" posts...

The Chess Player

Giulio Pion's father was a clockmaker, his father's father was a local tinkerer, his father's father's father was notorious for his handiness. Giulio certainly had all the natural talent he needed, alas bad luck seemed to follow him wherever he went.

His mother told him one day that the midwife dropped him on the floor just as she had finally pulled him from the womb.

A nervous teenage Giulio slipped as he prepared for his first kiss, his forehead smashing against the nose of the girl and breaking it.

A case of mistaken identity left him rotting in a prison for a week before the real culprit was found; a spitting image of poor Giulio save for a telltale mole.

These events never did deter him, although he did worry about his legacy at times. Would he be known as the unlucky boy whose life was a series of mishaps and accidents or as a humble (but nonetheless spectacular) inventor?

Perhaps it was his streak of bad luck that brought him to learn of the secret group of rogue inventors and mad scientists who try to replicate "great moments" in the dread realms' scientific community. Or perhaps the local chapter of the Dark Powers felt a need to amuse themselves. Whatever the case may be he was given access to the great book of science and found in its pages the account of one Ahmil Vanjuko and the dark lord inventor Easan the Mad (see a previous contribution of mine in this thread for more on this group).

Inspired by the designs and schema of the mechanical golem, he nonetheless sought to create a more realistic model in appearance and with a more suitable purpose than what Easan initially planned. His goal was to achieve a semblance of immortality through the machine body, although discussions with fellow would-be creators left him to fear that only a fraction of the original mind could be realistically preserved. And what manner of man could function with only part of mind? What occupation necessitates highly specialized knowledge that need not have much application outside said occupation?

A late night game of chess with his peers in the club of inventors proved to be the spark of inspiration that would allow him to complete his invention.

With Easan's plans, he would only need to find a donor for the mind of the machine. One of his peers, intrigued by the idea, offered to find a (fairly) talented player whose mind would forever more inhabit the machine body. One who, preferably, wouldn't object as Giulio was rather worried about the whole idea of forcing someone into his creation.

The fellow inventor, being a long standing member of the group, had fewer qualms with pushing a little harder and found, after much research, a perfect candidate. The man was sentenced to die due to an incurable illness and apparently a brilliant player who ached to play just one more game even as his hands grew frail and painful.

What did he have to lose?

Giulio was somewhat uncertain about the procedure but felt as if the Gods were guiding his hands as he went about transferring the brain of the player into the machine.

And what a machine it was! Now Giulio was never much of an artist but with such inspiration, he was moved to new heights and crafted a handsome wooden casing for a complex set of cogs, wheels, pumps, tubes, and wires. The wooden torso and head casing gave it the appearance of a man and appeared dressed in fine clothes befitting one of his proposed intellectual and social standing. The metal man would be permanently seated in a chair fitted with wheels for easier transport and gain mobility through a crank that, when turned, would give energy to the machine and spur the mind into becoming active.

However, bad luck would strike again and an unfortunate mishap lead to his dismissal from the rogue scientist group. Perhaps having threats made to his life and plots to kill him would be more appropriate.

So he left in the night, bringing with him his fabulous invention which, he thought, would bring him fame and fortune somehow... preferably far from the eyes of the rogue scientists.

Relocating in Nova Vaasa, locals flocked to play against his invention as he'd reassure curious intellectuals that it was all a ruse so as to avoid accusations of dabbling in magic. He'd even have a local portray the actual operator of the machine when needed.

While the machine did bring him some money, he had not considered the implications of such a machine and his constant need to hide its true nature pushed him to keep a low profile and often bribe for silence.

Bad luck being his primary skill, the player whose mind he borrowed was in fact that of a murderous madman with uncanny chess skills. The procedure was to keep a sliver of the donor's mind, merely a ghost of his former self. In truth, a much larger portion remained including the need to kill.

At night, the supposedly non-functional and merely decorative legs move and allow him to stalk victims.

[Gonzoron of the FoS]

Well, I get the Mechanical Turk reference, but is there another reference, or did you come up with the rest on your own?

[Zettaijin]

Pretty much the only reference, yeah.

The rest I mostly made up.

[Zettaijin]

The quasi-assassin

Lady M is a spy, thief, and assassin by trade. She has little time for remorse and sees others for what they are: ephemeral meat bags whose sole use is to fill her coffers so she may live her own life in material comfort.

Given the ways of the powerful within the Dread Realms it comes as no surprise that those who share her profession have no shortage of work, yet to attract the more lucrative opportunities one needs to be one step ahead of the competition.

The better ones will find some angle or some particular skill which they will then use to surpass their peers in terms of stealth or expediency. If some promise a "clean" job where no manner of trace could be found, others offer quick and timely results to their patrons.

Lady M prides herself on her creativity and the fact that she herself remains relatively free of direct guilt at all times. Her peers often need to be physically present in some capacity in order to accomplish whatever deed is asked of them be it pilfering some valuable documents or slitting some bothersome rival's throat.

Not Lady M, though.

What is her secret?

A menagerie of mephits bound to her command. While the creatures are usually more mischievous than particularly malicious, they are forced to obey her through some magical incantations.

Among her favoured tactics is to smuggle a smoke mephit in a special magical pipe which acts as a sort of portable self-contained dimension akin to a bag of holding. The pipe is carelessly left behind in a key location where the mephit will emerge to commit its crime and then return with the pipe to a set location where Lady M may reclaim it.

Sometimes, as she sleeps, she can hear the mephits quarreling, complaining, and even plotting. Her dreams are invaded by the creatures and she secretly fears an uprising. Lady M's strong personality possibly plays a role in keeping the creatures on a leash, however not being formally trained in the ancient arts of summoning and conjuring she lacks full understanding of the limits of these arcane tactics.

Also, one particularly clever shadow mephit is currently plotting to summon more of his kind in secret. While his powers are limited, he is armed with quite a bit of patience.

[HuManBing]

The Medieval Equivalent of a Briefcase Bomb

Gondegal's guerrilla campaign against Drakov has entered a new deadly phase - he has brokered a deal with the Spawn of the Lizard and received delivery of a dragon's egg, acquired without knowledge from their venerated deity, Ebb. Gondegal is in two minds about this. If dragons are tameable, then he could try to hatch the egg and weaponize the hatchling. If they are not tameable, he could allow the egg to fall into Drakov's hands and then allow Drakov's men to hatch it, releasing it for a rampage.

The Kargat agents who engineered this have a different idea. They plan to allow the egg to fall into Drakov's hands and to place it near his top leadership. Once that's been secured, they can leak its location to Ebb, who will arrive on scene with a high inclination towards physical retribution and a very low inclination towards apportionment of actual guilt. This would also result in the likely deaths of any Falkovnian leaders near the egg.

In my campaign, the Falkovnians are actually leading a (surprisingly effective) invasion of Darkon, so this sort of plan would best target the Falkführers and other leaders who are specifically tied to homeland industry and war supplies. I'm thinking of having the ploy eliminate Kara Drakov and various other "infrastructure"-focused administrators rather than the front-line generals (who will face starvation and defections once the supply lines dry up anyway).

[Zettaijin]

The Greatest Lover

Laurent Despierres is the self-proclaimed greatest lover who ever lived. His extensive writings on the matter of his countless torrid affairs have made quite the impression upon bored nobles while more literate folks see nothing but posturing and base chest thumping.

From forbidden trysts in Sri Raji to maneuvering around the language barrier in Rokushima Taiyoo, down to midnight escapades with gypsy women, Despierres has never been short on stories and while some embellishments were necessary, most of the stories had a certain truth to them.

But Despierres has been recently forced to limit his travels due to a slight weakness in his... lower body following a rather nasty battle with a somewhat shameful disease. He'll live to see another day and probably find his way into yet another woman's bed, but for now he must rest.

Yet his soul stirs and he has found some amusement in exchanging secret communications with a high ranking Borcan lady married to a rich Nova Vaasan land owner. Her husband is constantly away on business, leaving the lady bored and restless. Needing the intellectual exercise, Despierres finds the woman compelling yet naive enough to pursue using his classic romantic prose.

While he refuses to sign his name, the lady suspects it is the infamous lover who is sending the delicately scented letters.

Recently, a rival has appeared. The lady has been receiving letters from another mysterious lover who seemingly wishes to declare his undying love.

The lady coyly made a mention of this to Despierres stirring much frustration and jealousy as the lover will not tolerate a challenge. His rival has prove at least as adept at producing somewhat overwrought poetry and romantic declarations, but such is the style of the higher ranking people is it not?

Little does the lady know that her other suitor is merely a bored air mephit unable to find its way back to its plane of origins. It really has little interest in the lady so much as in writing. Notions of romance are to it somewhat alien and in a way it merely reproduces what it has consumed in its former life as it attached itself to a variety of planar men with a penchant for romantic liaisons.

Frustrated by his sudden competition, Despierres was about to leave the woman as he certainly isn't one to actively fight for a mere game - especially when he is ill. One day a mysterious man came to his doorstep to discuss the matter. Surely the World's Greatest Lover couldn't simply leave a conquest to an upstart could he? Certainly the woman was smart enough to see through the ruse and veiled language to deduce his identity. What would she say to her friends? Or did he believe that theirs would be a secret matter for long? These women talk and boast of the men who seek their favour as the husbands neglect them.

Despierres was roused form his stupor by the stranger and with renewed vigour began his conquest anew.

The stranger pays regular visits to his home and has an increasingly important part in the redaction process, going so far as to place drops of his blood into the ink with which the letters are written and the wax used to seal them. The lady for her part is quite captivated by the new prose and although she was hesitant about showing proofs of her love at first, she has gradually come to accept them.

Alas, the demands are growing more drastic and she is now asked to commit crimes and various deplorable acts. While kissing her young maid and describing the experience in detail was embarrassing, fouling another lady's health through infected wax dripped into her beverages is another matter.

Yet she somehow finds herself compelled to act.

The mephit has seen the lady's rate of response slowing down to a trickle and the letters lack their original "spark". The mephit is growing bored and annoyed, but is far too lazy to find another play pal. Her last letter included a frank confession of the acts she accomplished for the mephit poet's rival. In its own strange, alien way the mephit is starting to grow attached to the lady and... wishes to help?

The stranger has now become Despierres' secret lover as well and is gradually taking over the man's work as the latter is growing more and more ill.

The lady's acts are also becoming bolder and her status and fortune can only protect her for so long.

The mephit is confused and quite scatterbrained thus it feels a need to aid yet lacks any form of knowledge as to how to do so.

[Zettaijin]

The bone tree

In the outskirts of G'Henna grows a particular tree made of bone.

No one one knows of how it came to be, and while many worship it as a sign from above, Yagno Petrovna is uncertain of its true meaning. Calls to Zhakata for answers remain unanswered and he desperately wishes to know if this is truly a sign of the Devourer's grace... or his fury...

In secret, men and women gather, their faces painted as skulls to pay their respect to this sign of divine favour.

The leader, a fiercely devoted woman by the name of Agnes, had her body marked using a sharp branch of the bone tree and much to her surprise the tree does not harm her. No matter how deeply she cuts, the wound does not bleed. Her faithful have since followed in her steps.

Yagno hears whispers of a group of malcontent who see the tree as a physical manifestation of the Devourer, but it isn't the first time that heretics have sprung from the weak minded masses.

In a dream, the Devourer told Agnes to seek a protector for herself and her followers as others would stifle the truth of which she speaks. Fearing for her safety, Agnes looked to the tree for guidance and her prayers were answered when, from a bony flower growing at the base of the tree, came not a fruit but a large skull many times the size of a human one.

She understood that if no protector would come then she would have to summon one herself even if it meant creating it from whole cloth.

[Zettaijin]

The House that Brings Madness

(Another spot the reference. I'm betting Joël will know...)

Somewhere on a rather remote island off the coast of Darkon is a place where dreams come true.

Or should we say, where dreams may possibly be taken under consideration once one fills out all the appropriate forms, sometimes in multiple copies, and agrees to patiently proceed as directed by its staff.

And dreams might be too vague of a word. This institution will grant various requests provided these are properly explained and detailed along with a clear statement of purpose. Merely asking for power and fortune is more likely to result in a very rude lower rank and file employee turning you away than seeing yourself the new head of a land or army.

However, asking for a sizable loan, one that obviously could not be granted by the average money lenders found throughout the land of mist, is one way of achieving your goal. And manpower CAN be bought and the institution can certainly facilitate the purchase of qualified human resources for just about any endeavour.

The grounds are littered with previous customers who have gone stark raving mad trying to fulfill the exacting demands of the institution and navigating its labyrinthine corridors to reach out of the way officers or clerks who hold the next form. Rumours have it that Daclaud Heinfroth has an agreement with the institution who ship the more incurably or violently insane lot to the asylum beyond the mists. Dark vessels come at night to secure new patients for the good doctor's experiments.

How could such a thing happen, you ask? How could mere bureaucratic affairs drive a man to madness?

No one knows as no one ever came back, well no one human that's for sure.

The rank and file clerks are often rude, difficult and more than a little annoyed by the aforementioned vague requests from the usual power and money types. They seem more interested in talking with each other or filling out their own paperwork to helping potential clients.

Rudeness from a client is met with stern warnings that their manners can make the whole process easier or harder - but most seem to make it harder on themselves one way or the other as the clerks are easily bothered by the slightest hint of sarcasm or frustration.

Once past the first few clerks, one begins a wild goose chase for more documents which require hours upon hours of climbing stairs, waiting, and finding one's way through a purposefully confusing layout that would bring a tear to any architect's eye. Visiting clerks who may appear aloof but then become progressively eccentric or odd is but one of the problems that await the more patient clients.

One clerk spends his days being fed fruits and nuts by a female assistant may not have time for a client, asking the later to wait while he finishes his snack. Another, an old man, is hard of hearing and speaks with a strong valacchi accent so certain requests may be misheard and lead to the dreaded administrative error.

Ah yes, administrative errors, the bane of any client. If any clerk happens upon some irregularity, he or she may force a client to backtrack to certain already visited clerk for a revision which may require any number of forms to be stamped and approved by higher ranking ones... which the client him or herself have to visit of course.

The institution holds certain opening hours and may close at unsuspected hours for various official business. Sometimes clerk disappear for days on end, leaving a client waiting unless they ask if there are any other clerks capable of filing the request.

The more time one spends trying to appease these notoriously difficult individuals, the more one may find themselves acquainted with madness and join the hordes of the insane outside the walls.

If by chance one reaches the final clerk, the head of the institution, one may have their request granted. The institution itself has little in terms of physical possessions and while rumours abound that even the lowest raking clerk is proficient in the arcane arts to some degree, there are no gifts given merely more paperwork which needs to be delivered outside the institution, more often than not in far away or dangerous places and involving dealings with equally dangerous individuals.

The institution's word is, however, to be trusted. If they agree to a loan or a request, then it will be fulfilled without trickery. However they cannot ensure that the people they will be dealing with outside their walls will be quite as trustworthy...

[Joël of the FoS]

12 travaux d'Astérix? Ah ah ah!

[Zettaijin]

Always thought La maison qui rend fou would be an amusing fit for RL.

I could imagine players sitting next to some Lich or other powerful critter waiting for their turn.

[Joël of the FoS]

indeed

[TheSalemlord]

Awesome thread!!, Any hooks for II Aluk. Before the Requiem?...or maybe something with the Crimson Plague?