Mon Dec 4 '23 Announcement
12 months ago
– Mon, Dec 04, 2023 at 11:09:37 AM
Hello Gravediggers,
I've got the 4th part of our Abyssals fiction to share with you today, but first some facts!
We've now hit an even dozen in terms of unlocked Stretch Goals, so let's see what we've got coming up.
ACHIEVED! - At $120,000 in Funding - New Soulsteel Artifacts
At $125,000 in Funding - Abyssals Streaming Overlay
A set of overlays for your online Abyssals game will be created, for your use when streaming your game. This reward will be added to the rewards list for all backers.
At $130,000 in Funding - New Underworld Locales 2
Additional Underworld locations will be created and added to the Companion PDF as well as the Underworld map.
Queen Askaté greeted the Mariner with dangerous familiarity. The queen had known them for years, and though she had been warned before, she made to speak the Mariner’s lost name. With more forcefulness than was a guest’s right, the Mariner gestured for silence, the mark of their Exaltation flaring on their brow in warning. Askaté soured, but complied, withdrawing back to her broken throne of driftwood and sea-glass.
She could have motioned for Mariner to take a plush seat arrayed beside her throne, but kept them standing as recompense for her injured pride. She was old, and powerful, and well-learned in the ways of the Underworld. But she didn’t truly comprehend what the Mariner was, or what the Abyssals would mean for the future of the dead. There was a day when she would look back upon this snub and rue it. The Mariner didn’t relish that. They pitied it.
“You return to us with a Deathlord’s favor,” she said, adjusting the dozen silver rings that weighted down her willowy fingers.
“The Walker in Darkness sends his greetings to you, Queen Askaté, and offers his recognition for your friendship — three grand gowns of vesper-silk from his finest tailors, a coronet of bronze and obsidian, and wine enough to fill my hold, which your servants are already transporting to your banquet halls, my lady.”
“Your lady,” she said, wounded afresh. “Your queen. You were my student before you were his servant.”
Proud as ever, the Mariner thought. It was the way of the dead, who were born of ritual — they had trouble accepting change. They would see to that, in time, but the Mariner felt great affection for Askaté, haughty as she was. She had been their patron and tutor in necromancy for a decade before their Exaltation.
“Your instruction has been my guiding star,” the Mariner said. “But there are other matters I would discuss, your majesty.”
“Yes, your missives said as much,” the queen replied. “And they are accurate, are they, in your choice of quarry? The Ravenous Maw of Uxet is a grotesquerie; a profanity upon the seas of the dead. So many ships have been crushed within its toothy maw, fishing boats and war-galleons alike. For the love I bear you still, I do not wish to see you throw your life away so fruitlessly.”
“For the work I have in mind, no lesser creature’s fangs would do, your majesty, and my life…it has already been spent. You know that, even if you don’t wish to recognize what stands before you.”
“Choose some other quest,” she said, and the Mariner watched her hands twist into blasphemous gestures and mudras. A trickle of incense wreathed the Abyssal’s head and attempted to ensnare their senses. It was an unworthy trick, prideful and ignorant. When they had studied necromancy under her tutelage, this had been the way of things: When she couldn’t convince them of her wisdom, she attempted to change their mind by gross force.
Things were not as they were, though, and the Mariner swept the spell away with a casual gesture. The mark of Daybreak burned once more upon their brow, and their anima swelled like a hurricane. The Mariner stood at the center of phantasmagorical winds, and the world smelled not of incense but blood and salt. They approached Queen Askaté and she flinched, feeling the necromantic power gathering around her former pupil.
“I heard once that an excellent teacher hopes to be surpassed by their students,” the Mariner said. “Allow me to show you what I have learned.”
***
Evening rain made slick the eaves of the gabled roof. The Gallows Bride crouched under her cloak of waxed black canvas, considering the device in her arms.
It works, or it doesn't, she reasoned. If this shot failed, she would have another. Ledaal Chuyin could run — and like all cowards, run well — but he would never hide from her for long.
She lifted the matte-black barrel, two meters long and riveted with orichalcum and blue jade. Salt-white tubing fed from a barbed soulsteel armband dangling at her hip, alongside the weapon's stolen cartridges.
Had the Mask noticed the artifact's absence? The Day Caste knew it was one-of-a-kind, though not necessarily priceless.
Just like you, Chuyin.
The weapon crackled with ambient hatred. The Bride sharpened her senses, because across the misty courtyard, a fourth floor window shone from the Hall of Bittersweet Chrysanthemums. That meant Ledaal Chuyin was taking his opium in the library. Slowly, inexorably, the Gallows Bride reached for the first cartridge.
Crisp feathers rustled by her side. She froze, only her solemn brown eyes moving. A rain-glossed raven hopped toward her, head tilted in curiosity. The Bride considered it in silence.
No raven, she realized, skin prickling.
Half a heartbeat later, the bird was a scattering of violet stardust. The Bride scrambled behind a chimney stack, struggling to shield her sensitive eyes, the weapon rattling and keening.
She was found out. How? By whom?
The chimney stack cracked, collapsed. The Bride twisted aside, a star-wreathed blade plunging past her shoulder. Rain and crumbling stone framed a fate-whetted face: nose like an axe, hair like spun gold, eyes like amethysts.
Her body wouldn't allow her to linger. The Bride sprung from her hands, twisting through the air like a hanged corpse in a gust of wind. There was nothing but mist and night. I land, or I don't, she reasoned.
Shingles cracked under her heels like the sound of a snapping neck. A memory resurfaced: Mnemon Getha, violet eyes unblinking while they fitted her and Blameless Crane with nooses. But this was no Dragon-Blooded youth hunting her. The Bride's brain burned with the effort of remembering.
"Never thought I'd find you here," she murmured into the dead wind, trusting it to carry her words. Her fingers worked at the barbed soulsteel. The bands were stinging cold, but that was nothing compared to the pain goring her arm when she locked them into place. The tubes turned garnet-dark. All at once she was dizzy, her heart fluttering. She might only get one shot after all.
"You’re accomplice to the murder of an Archon," the Bride continued coolly, sliding a heavy cartridge into the chamber.
"Everything has an ending," the mist whispered to her.
"But not Ledaal Chuyin?" Black lightning crackled between the rivets. Hatred lanced through her veins.
A violet star shone across the dark. Her hand flew across the hammer, her finger strangled the trigger.
the formatting in the following two paragraphs is intentional
It caught them in the shoulder, not a gout of flame like the Bride expected but a sph_re of utt_r dark. They bled in bla_k rays, s_ream_d with no so_nd. The Whispers were de_f_ning.
The Gallows Bride crouched under her waxed black cloak, silent while the th_ng that had b_en Mnemon Getha became nothing.
When the whispers faded to a drone and the last of the assassin’s Essence had inverted, the Bride finally allowed herself a shiver. With the wretched strength of a terrified and wounded animal, she ripped the bands from her arm, relieved at the sight of her red blood.
She was injured, spent, horror-struck, and the window on the fourth floor was dark.
But he would never hide from her for long.
***
The queen wasn’t alone in her chamber when the Viscount Wreathed in Ruby Mists came calling. Her guards were gone, as they’d been paid to do. The entire wing of the palace was still, except for the Viscount’s swift passage. He’d arranged for that, too. The lock on her door fell open at his touch, its pins crumbling to rust.
She should have been alone, asleep in her bed amidst dozens of silken pillows and beneath a pile of furs. Indeed, she slept, oblivious to the cold northern wind gusting through her open window and lending the chill of the grave to the chamber. The Viscount might have found that amusing, since that was why he was here in the first place, except for the person who waited with her.
Leaning against the bedpost, between the queen and her would-be killer, stood a Weeping Raiton Cast Aside. She wore plain woolen robes and no armor that the Viscount could see, but her grimcleaver, ominously named The Taste of Blood, rested against the footboard in easy reach. He knew of her — sworn to no Deathlord, a scholar of the Old Laws. He’d not yet had the pleasure of meeting her, though her stance and the circumstances told him this was no social call.
Business first. He rushed toward the sleeping queen, daiklave slicing the air...But a Weeping Raiton was faster than he'd imagined, that grimcleaver coming up between them in a blur. Soulsteel screamed where his blade met its haft, the battle-song of two cursed weapons meeting in equal mettle.
“Hold,” she said, as the encircled disk of her Caste mark seeped bloody on her forehead. “Attend my words, deathknight, and know that your mission is flawed.”
He could have pushed past her; he was quick and a Raiton’s reputation was that of an arbiter and philosopher, not a fighter. He could have killed the queen and then argued about it. But the very fact of the Moonshadow’s presence gave him pause. If someone wanted the queen saved, or the Viscount bloodied, they would have sent a warrior. Intrigued, the Viscount disengaged from her. She didn’t lower the grimcleaver until he’d retreated several steps.
“How is it flawed?” he asked. “I’m here bringing justice at the Lover’s behest.”
“You carry out your mistress’ will,” she agreed, “but not that of the Neverborn.”
“The Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears serves the Neverborn.”
“She serves herself. Think of it — a year from now, two at most, the people of this city will revolt. The queen and her court take and take while they starve. They won’t be so kind as to cut her throat while she’s warm and safe in her bed, dreaming pleasant dreams. Who are you to give her an easy death and free her from the torment to come?”
The Viscount stared, and let his instincts measure her words against his sense of death’s chivalry. “I’ve taken vows—”
“—to the Neverborn first and foremost.” The Moonshadow gestured toward the queen, who slept on as soundly as the dead, perhaps lulled by a Weeping Raiton’s will. “Your liege would install a puppet in her place to further her own cause. Let the queen live to see her downfall. Or better yet, help her shape it.”
She stepped away, leaving him a clear path to the queen, but the Viscount found himself unable — perhaps even unwilling — to take it.
#AbyssalsSwornToTheGrave
Thu Nov 30 '23 Announcement
12 months ago
– Thu, Nov 30, 2023 at 07:42:30 AM
Hey Gravediggers,
Now that we've hard our first bit Charms section, it's time for a sneak peek at the next one!
Before we get into it, just a quick Stretch Goal update! We've unlocked one more target, and have another on the way!
ACHIEVED! - At $115,000 in Funding - VTT Token Pack
At $120,000 in Funding - New Soulsteel Artifacts
New Soulsteel artifacts will be written up and added to the Companion PDF.
As demonstrated, we'll be dividing our MASSIVE Charms chapter into three sections for backer review. You'll be able to download these sections over the next week, with Preview 5 coming on Saturday.
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Abyssals Draft Manuscript Preview 4 – Charms: Archery to Investigation – posted Nov 28
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Abyssals Draft Manuscript Preview 5 – Charms: Larceny to Presence – coming Dec 2
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Abyssals Draft Manuscript Preview 6 – Charms: Resistance to War– coming Dec 6
But who wants to wait? Let's have a sneak peek at a trio of Charms from Manuscript Preview #5, and then a look ahead to one charm from Manuscript Preview #6 to keep us excited through the middle part of this campaign! Let's get to it...
Bleak Wisdom Malison
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Cost: —(+1wp); Mins: Lore 5, Essence 2
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Type: Permanent
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Keywords: None
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Duration: Permanent
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Prerequisite Charms: A Lesson in Sorrow, Fatal Flaw Scrutiny
Confronting the weak with their frailties and follies, the Abyssal teaches the wisdom of despair.
When the Abyssal uses Fatal Flaw Scrutiny to reveal a weakness in someone’s agenda she can pay a one-Willpower surcharge to confront him with the futility of his actions . If her successes equal or exceed his Resolve, he suffers a –(Abyssal’s Essence/2, rounded up) penalty on mental and social rolls related to his agenda, and 1s subtract successes. This lasts until the Abyssal uses Fatal Flaw Scrutiny on another character or until that character spends three Willpower to resist.
Life-Mocking Assembly
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Cost: 5m (+5m, 1wp); Mins: Medicine 5, Essence 2
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Type: Simple
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Keywords: None
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Duration: Instant
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Prerequisite Charms: Necrotic Graft Technique
The Abyssal is an artist of dead flesh, transforming bone and viscera into undead masterpieces.
The Abyssal spends an hour laboring over a human or human-like corpse with surgical tools, reanimating it as a zombie (Exalted, p. 502) with a Defining Tie of obedience towards her that can’t be weakened.
Alternatively, for a five-mote, one-Willpower surcharge, the Abyssal can surgically enhance a zombie or other reanimated corpse, increasing the time needed to use this Charm to eight hours. This confers one of the following benefits:
- +1 die to all Strength-based dice pools and raw withering damage. An undead can only receive this benefit once.
- +1 die to all Dexterity-based dice pools. An undead can only receive this benefit once.
- +1 die to all Stamina-based dice pools and +1 soak. An undead can only receive this benefit once.
- A −4 health level. An undead can only receive this benefit (higher of Abyssal’s Essence or 3) times.
If the deathknight has dots in a Craft that involves the preparation or use of dead flesh, such as embalming, taxidermy, tanning, or cooking, she receives craft points for meeting objectives with this Charm as though she’d completed a major project (Exalted, p. 241).
The Death of Miracles
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Cost: 10m, 1wp; Mins: Occult 5, Essence 3
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Type: Simple
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Keywords: None
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Duration: Instant
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Prerequisite Charms: Bleak Truths Laid Bare (x2)
Through ritual, the Abyssal may sunder the miracles of sorcery, withering blessed fields and slaughtering generational curses.
After encountering the ongoing effects of a spirit Charm or a spell, the Abyssal rolls (Intelligence or Wits + Occult) to introduce a method by which that magic may be undone. This roll is opposed by the character who created the effect, using an appropriate (Attribute + Ability) combination. If successful, the Abyssal’s player and the Storyteller should work together to determine a way that she can end the magic. The effort required to do so should be commensurate with the effect’s strength. This can’t reverse Instant-duration effects, or magic used by Essence 10 beings. If the Abyssal breaks a magical effect with this Charm, the opposing character becomes aware of it, sensing the affront to his primacy.
An Essence 4 repurchase lets the Abyssal pay a one-Willpower surcharge to introduce a way to permanently undo a Terrestrial sorcerous working, or temporarily suppress a Celestial or Solar working long enough for her to accomplish a significant task.
You'll be able to find all of these Charms, along with many, many more, in our next draft manuscript preview coming Saturday. And, on December 6th, we'll have draft manuscript preview #6, which will contain...
Arise and Slaughter
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Cost: 8m, 1wp; Mins: War 5, Essence 3
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Type: Supplemental
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Keywords: None
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Duration: Instant
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Prerequisite Charms: Death Is No Respite
Speaking with calm and unquestionable authority, Death’s Lawgiver stirs the corpses of the battlefield to take up arms in her name.
The Abyssal can use a rally for numbers action to restore Magnitude to a mindless undead battle group despite its perfect morale, adding (Essence) successes and ignoring the once-per-scene limitation on that action.
If there are not any allied zombie battle groups, the Abyssal can instead animate a Size 1 battle group of zombies (Exalted, p. 502) with poor Drill and Might 1 as long as she rolls a single success. With 5+ successes and sufficient corpses to draw from, she instead reanimates a Size 2 zombie battle group.
The deathknight draws her new recruits from corpses strewn across the battlefield, and there must be a sufficient supply of them for her to use this Charm. This requirement is generally satisfied in any combat where a battle group has suffered Magnitude damage, but the Storyteller may require the Abyssal and her allies to kill additional victims before she can use this Charm if he deems there aren’t enough available.
#AbyssalsSwornToTheGrave
