13 May 2024

We had the first real session of the campaign this past Sunday, and as much as possible, I want to record it. What follows is my “hook”; a trick from the Candela Obscura rulebook and videos, where before you get into the meat of the story, you zoom out and onto the antagonist or the problem that is the focus for the arc or session. I refined it since the session; mostly, I remembered a bunch of other things I wanted to share, and refined who the villains are this time and how they’re able to do what they do.

Before the broken ship bearing our heroes limps into Setton’s harbor, let me roll back the clock a couple of days, and focus on a certain manor house within the city. As soon as we step inside, we can hear the sounds of revelry, laughter and music, emanating from the banquet hall.

There, we find a smiling musician, all adorned in green and red, playing a set of pipes, watching the proceedings with great interest. An older couple, the lord and lady of the house, dance merrily in the center of the floor to the music, only paying the slightest heed to their multitude of guests when their dance requires they step around or over one of them laying on the floor.

Many of these guests–those lively enough to do so–cheer for the couple as they stuff their faces with the bounteous feast presented before them. And what a feast it is! If we only looked at the quantity heaped on the hundred-foot banquet table, it would be fair to guess the family expected to receive royalty at any moment now. But on closer inspection, this is actually a feast most foul; many of the dishes are covered in flies, and appear to have sat on the table for days.

Yet the guests do not care. They will just as gladly stuff their gobs with the maggot-covered pork roast as the chicken and rice casserole the maid–herself in a trance–places fresh out of the oven onto the table.

Off to the side, both ignoring and ignored by all the ruckus, a young nobleman sits in an ornate chair, a young lady on his lap, all pretense for propriety banished. The young man bares a striking resemblance to the lord of the house, even down to his striking red hair. The young lady pulls a knife from the folds of her dress and draws it across her palm; the young man kisses it, gently lapping at her blood. 

Then, from his own pocket, he pulls out a vial of a bright red liquid, with a single, slender blood lily petal within. He uncorks it and leans in to whisper directly in the young lady’s ear, “Do you trust me?”

She nods, and the vial barely touches her lips before she downs it all, and slowly grows limp in his arms.

Meanwhile, the lord and lady of the house bring their dance to a close. They bow, first to the audience and then to the musician. The lord claps twice and announces, “Well, my friends, it is time for us to be off! But you are free to accompany us. Won’t you join us for an even grander Revel?”

He and his wife don’t wait for a response before they turn to leave. Instead, the musician trills a curious series of notes, and all the guests, even a number of those lying unresponsive on the floor, stop what they’re doing and stand up. Each of them shuffle after the lord and lady of the house, eyes glazed and sappy smiles on their faces.

The musician rises to follow, but the young man called after him, “Shall I begin gathering the next batch, dear friend?”

With a flourish, the musician bowed to him. “If you wouldn’t mind, ‘twould be most appreciated, my good fellow.” Then he skipped after the group who’d just left, a jaunty tune playing from his pipes.