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Last we left off…
Not Quite the Alamo
Welcome back to Roveyporth, now with 30% more fire and 100% more existential dread!
First, Z’ed gives Laslyn the third degree about a suspicious paper with her name on it. Laslyn’s memory? Swiss cheese. Z’ed’s suspicion? Through the roof.
As we crest the hill, the whole town is on fire, people are screaming, and the Syndicate is throwing the worst block party ever. Enter Idris the Ratfolk, Laslyn’s old buddy who greets her with a hug and zero context. He promises to create a distraction so we can sneak into town and help Enna.
BOOM! That’s our cue! We sprint to the plaza, where Enna is holding down a barricade with nothing but a bloody bandage and pure spite. Bruin takes point, Laslyn goes full rage mode, and Amani is yelling commands from a pile of rubble like she’s auditioning for “Top General.”
Things go sideways fast—the barricades are on fire, we’re getting flanked, and some Syndicate mage thinks he’s hot stuff. Z’ed responds with a thunderstrike that says, “Not today, buddy!” Meanwhile, Laslyn’s in a blood-splattered frenzy, Bruin is a wall of bear-shaped rage, and I’m doing my best to shoot literally anything that isn’t a teammate. (Spoiler: I miss.)
When the dust settles, Torven Bek shuffles up and hands us a sack of skin. Not like leather—like, actual skin. The skin of Derrin Holt, a guy who went missing two weeks ago. And someone else is missing too—a local woman named Maris Tredd.
So, to sum up:
Syndicate thugs? Defeated.
Roveyporth? Still standing.
The party? Covered in blood.
Us? Now questioning the definition of “wearing someone else’s skin.”
Next up: time to head underground and find out just who’s playing dress-up with our neighbors’ bodies. Because that’s definitely normal. Right?
Something important to remember from the session.
Start | xx:xx Day Month dd, yyyy |
End | xx:xx Day Month dd, yyyy |
Start | 8:18am 4th Vulen, Venetis 32nd, 2424 |
End | 8:00am 5th Wysafir, Venetis 34th, 2424 |
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