Friday, December 8, 2017

The Voidcallers: a Blades in the Dark Actual Play Part I


A Lord Comes Calling

Scene opens, over Doskvol -- a city wreathed in filth and gloom.  Music starts in low. In a steady cold rain, the waters of the North Hook channel churn with a knowing restlessness. The whitecaps rise and fall back in on themselves in a frothy soup that slaps against the iron haul of a towering leviathan hunter ship. The pop of electroplasmic energy arcs across the railing as the vessel pushes thru the crackling boundaries of the lightening barrier. In a salt-stained crimson, the tall red letters scrawled along the prow of the ship read, MISDEED. The music continues to swell and the camera crawls over the edge of the behemoth to reveal an empty deck. An empty bridge. An empty galley. Empty bunks. An empty captain's quarters. 

The ghost ship continues along her destined course to the center of the channel.

Back inside the ship, the camera climbs along the floor of the well appointed captain’s quarters to a beautifully carved wooden desk along the far wall. Atop the desk sits a heavy stone urn. The 4-foot tall stone vessel, covered in abstract and worn ancient carvings looms with certain heaviness. Deep boldly carved ruts in the surface of the greenish stone depict humanoid figures with elongated limbs, knees bent in supplication reaching up to a sphere wreathed in a dozen plus one tiny orbs. The music crescendos, cut to black.



Re-open on the broad, well-lit streets of Charterhall. Bankers and well-to-dos crisscross the streets lined with large imposing civil buildings cased in massive stone columns. The camera locks onto a carriage, driven by a ropy armed man, pulled by a shaggy grey goat the size of a small horse. 



The carriage trundles down the cobblestone avenue before turning off to a narrow side-street and disappearing into the shadows of the tall buildings. The passenger inside, a middle aged dark-skinned, well appointed in classic if not a bit outmoded Akorosian fashion, taps on the roof of the carriage with the the top of his cane, signaling to the driver to stop. The man, Adric Hutchins [Crew Contact], steels himself with a deep breath and steps out of the carriage -- his shoe landing square in a muddy puddle -- sighing -- he gives his hat a brush before balancing it just so atop his head. He makes for the door.

The chipped gold leaf lettering on the grimy glass reads, "Ezra Gladstone, Esquire". The dull chime of a bell fills the tiny office space with ease. Stacks of papers and reference books scatter across the floors and shelves. From the view of behind the desk, Hutchins crosses the room and drops of a sealed portfolio on the desk. The camera lings linger on the noble family seal. “Won’t say no to Stranford. Now will we?” says Hutchins.

We get our first shot of Ezra "Gideon" Gladstone, a part time barrister and the full time Spider of the Voidcallers. A handsome, by all accounts, Akorosian man albeit with a rather stern look about him more often than not. Ezra stuffs a series of documents into a large leather folio, pulls his coat and worn tricorne hat off the hook and stands in agreement, "let us not keep the good lord waiting."




A wide wall of  well hewn stone topped with a decorative wrought iron lightning barrier rushes up to meet the street. We see the crew for the first time, assembled. The looming manor house of Lord Stanford awaits beyond a well manicured lawn. The pristine streets of Brightstone glisten. A patrol of Bluecoats gives the Crew a long hard look as they pass, twirling their cudgels. The gate buzzes open and beckons the them inward. A hulking man in a impeccably tailored suit waits silently at the top of the front steps.

This is our first shot of the Crew [Cult], the Voidcallers, the faithful servants of Asgoat the Mistress in the Stars. Along side Ezra stands Eshe "Shade" Najim the Iruvian Lurk. A dark and fierce woman with a stern countenance honed from a childhood spent in the relentless and competitive dance that is Iruvian high society. Her subtle attire is betrayed by a posture and presence that commands attention. 



Ammon "Hew" von Tach the Akorosian Cutter. A young man, with a sprightly and youthful face, sporting numerous nicks and cuts across his torso and forearms from many a dueling sessions at the Academy. Tucked neatly into his neckline, a precisely folded and brightly colored ascot. His reserved stance hiding a willingness to act that boarders on reckless.     




Mary "Chatter" Thornton the Tycherosi Whisper. A tall and pale skinned creature with sunken black glass eyes, like those of a creature from the depths of the void. She quietly mutters to herself -- maybe? Who's to say whom she is speaking to in those quiet mumbled whispers. Who's to say who is listening?





and Zamira "Venom" the Severosi Leech. A lean and athletic woman, tattooed in the style of the Severosi horselords. Her shock white hair worn in a long heavy braid down her back. Eyes the color of amber. She moves with a noticeable agitation, like a Deathlands stalker in a cage. Every day within the confines of the lightening barrier is another day squandered to this child of the Deathlands.  


the hulking man at the top of the steps waits impatiently as the visitors cross the drive and approach the townhouse. With a flat and cold affect the man speaks, “cross the room. Up the stairs. Down the hall. Last door on the right. Varanda. Don’t doddle. Lord Stranford is expecting you.”

to be continued. 

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