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.

10 May 2024 part 2

This is a poem I wrote introducing one of the major antagonistic factions in my D&D campaign. Kind of a blend of Greed and Gluttony, with ties to both vampires and the fae and faewild shenanigans, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Quite macabre, to be honest, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

Welcome! Welcome!

Come, dance the night away!

Won’t you join our Revel?

Throw all your cares away!

Mind not the smell of rot

Nor dear guests, now deceased

Just listen to my music

And partake our glorious Feast

With luck, you may be chosen

To spread our Feast abroad

To bring folk to our Revel

And sip their precious blood

22 December 2022

There’s a lot going on in these scenes. It’s pretty tricky to balance, actually; the piper’s song seems like it should be fun, and joyous, all that. But at the same time, Naomi’s losing her only “friend”, and the piper has gathered a ridiculously massive swarm of rats to follow behind him. Which is terrifying. Doubly so if you’ve played either of the A Plague Tale games (I’ve still only played Innocence; Requiem is on my list, though). I may play with different iterations of this scene to figure out what fits the story best… after I have enough of the rest of the story to have an idea what that means, exactly.

The other concern I have is with Father Monroe. Who is he exactly? How much of an influence has he had on Naomi’s life? I think at this point I’ve decided he is not her guardian, but he does seem to have it out for her for whatever reason. I don’t know why yet; maybe she was born out of wedlock? I don’t really like that, for various reasons. I’ll think on it more.

…unnerved her.

Barton seemed fascinated by it, however. He even squirmed out of her grasp and ran out into the street. Naomi cried out and chased after him, but froze when she saw what was happening.

Pietr danced and sang his way down the street, playing his pipes all the while. How he could sing while playing the pipes, Naomi didn’t know; none of it made sense. But that’s what was happening.

That wasn’t what had caught Naomi’s breath, though. Behind him scurried a whole horde of rats, so think it almost looked like a river of fur flowing down the street. Rats sprouted from under doors and through cracks to join the throng.

Naomi snapped to her senses and found Barton a little ways ahead, rushing to join the horde. She yelped and chased after him. She’d nearly caught up to him, at the edge of the horde, when a strong pair of arms caught her and pulled her away.

“You don’t want to get caught up in that, little Naomi,” Baker Malcolm said.

Naomi squirmed and struggled to get free, but the baker’s grip on her was too strong. “Barton! BARTON!”

But the piper and the rats paid her no heed, if indeed the piper could even hear her over his own playing and the noise of the rats. He danced on his merry way until he was out of sight, and it wasn’t long before the last of the rats soon followed.

Malcolm finally let Naomi go, and she sank to her knees, too stunned to cry as she stared vacantly down the street where the piper had disappeared.

Around her, the other villagers began cautiously opening their doors. They looked around with pale faces before they slowly filtered out into the street. All of them huddled together, like they thought they’d just seen the devil himself.

As Naomi watched them, she saw a lot of the other kids clinging to their parents or siblings. Johan. Grace. Emma and Ruth. It struck at the hole inside her heart, and she squeezed her arms around her chest, as if she were hugging Barton close.

Only, now Barton was gone, too. And he wouldn’t be coming back. Once that sank in, the tears finally came, and the sound of her cries and sobs echoed throughout the village.

Perhaps an hour later, Father Monroe had gathered any willing to an impromptu, outdoor sermon. “Rats are unclean, the very spawn of the devil himself,” he said. “And any who can command them like that must be his servants. Indeed, eve those who merely consort with them are suspect!”

He glared across the square at Naomi. Ordinarily, she might quip back or at least return his glare, but today she couldn’t bring herself to care.

One of the other villagers, Robert, chimed in. “Yeah! If he can do that, how do we know he wasn’t the one as sent the rats in the first place?”

“Precisely.” Father Monroe nodded. “And it would be the gravest of sins to support one of the devil’s servants!” The crowd roared in approval, and he continued. “Therefore, we will not pay this foppish wretch so much as a single cent! We will not condone any witchcrafts or sorceries here. Instead, we must drive him from the village! If he will not, then worst comes to worst, we may be called upon to hoist this warlock on the pyre!”

Once again, the crowd roared, stirred up in a fervor of self-righteous zeal. Some part of Naomi thought she ought to go and warn Pietr, but the bigger part of her couldn’t be bothered. Besides, he was the one who sent Barton away.

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21 December 2022

Songs are difficult to write. I’m also not really a fan of how on-the-nose this one is. That’s one thing I appreciated of Shannon Hale’s Book of a Thousand Days; the magic wasn’t from the words, but more how they made someone feel, if I understand it right. Still, this works well enough for a first draft.

It was some time later when, from the alley where she’d tucked herself away, Naomi heard a song. It was distant, at first, but seemed to be getting closer; a jaunty tune that invited the listener to jump up and join the dance. Not that Naomi felt like dancing just then.

Soon, it had gotten close enough she could recognize Pietr’s voice, and then the words he was singing:

“Ah, rout-tout, diddly di,

Rout-tout, do.

In for a penny, in for a pound,

Come, ye rats, and gather ‘round.

There’s many a place to rest your head,

But none here in this town.

A plate full of bread, a bowl full of cheese

Come eat with us, whate’er ye please…”

Naomi struggled to pin down why, but something about the song unnerved her.

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16 December 2022

I changed Nella’s name to Naomi. Nella didn’t have quite the right feel to it for the character. Also, I’ve always been fond of the name Naomi. It’s just a very pretty name.

There’s a lot I might eventually change about this. For example, an early version of the myth had a blind, a lame, and a deaf child all left behind by the piper (either because they couldn’t keep up, or couldn’t hear the music to get charmed by it), and they’re the ones who told everyone else. If Naomi knows and hangs out with them, she could leave them a message. I’d have to be careful, though, as they would never reappear in the main story, so I don’t necessarily want to build them up as being important…

Naomi nodded, and the piper began to play. And oh, how he played! It felt like joy itself flowed out of his pipes. The music carried the piper away and he began to dance. It took but a moment for Naomi’s tears to vanish, replaced by a great toothy smile as she clapped along.

The piper had more tricks up his sleeve, though. He began to throw out small colored flags, and flowers of every kind. Naomi couldn’t figure out how he did it, as she never saw him take his hands off the pipes.

By this point, a sizable crowd had gathered around the fountain, but the piper kept his eyes on Naomi. He danced and twirled, faster and faster, until Naomi couldn’t keep track of what was what. For half a second, she even thought she saw hooves instead of the worn boots the piper wore.

He finished with a flourish, and swept off his hat and bowed to her. “And what did you think of my performance, fair lady?”

Naomi could only applaud. “It was amazing, Mr. Piper! How did you–”

“Naomi!” Out of the crowd, a tall man in a cassock glared at the girl. The wrinkles on his face were evidence enough that he wasn’t prone to smiling.

Naomi’s smile vanished, and she shrank into her shoulders. “G-good evening, Father Monroe.”

“And what is good about it, pray tell? And what are you doing idling away here? Have I not taught you that an idle mind is the devil’s playground?”

Naomi shrank herself further, and found herself wishing she could disappear right into the earth. The priest continued, “And worse, cavorting about with this… foppish peacock!”

The piper frowned for half a moment, then flashed Father Monroe the biggest smile Naomi had ever seen as he bowed. “Goodman Pietr at your service, Father! Gleeman, piper, and ratcatcher all in one.” He rose and smirked at the priest. “I believe it was you who called for my services, was it not? A thousand coin, to rid this fine city of a rampant infestation of rats, wasn’t it?”

Father Monroe looked as if he’d just eaten something phenomenally bitter. Naomi barely noticed, however; she was to busy trying to catch her breath. This was the ratcatcher? Was he going to take Barton away? She scooped up the rat where he’d been sitting and turned away from Pietr.

After a moment, Father Monroe asked, “You are Goodman Pietr?”

“Indeed I am, good sir.”

“And you can resolve our rat problem?”

“Indeed I can, good sir.”

Father Monroe scowled, then looked over where Naomi was trying to creep away. “Very well. You can start with that one.”

Naomi shrieked and backed away, but the piper just shook his head. “Tut, tut, tut. Now, now, good priest. You do not see me trying to tell you how to preach your sermons, do you? You tend to your duties, and I shall see to mine, you have my word.”

The priest choked back a thousand scathing replies. “Every rat, Goodman Pietr. If you want full payment.”

Naomi never heard Pietr’s reply, because at that point, she broke out of the crowd and hid herself away.

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9 December 2022

Kids can be mean. And they’re more willing to say what they really think than most adults. I hope I captured some of that, as well as how easy it is to assume everyone in a group is the same, whether that’s true or not.

While I wrote this bit, I did a bunch more research on the pied piper. Pied, it turns out, means “multi-colored”, based on the same pie as magpie. So I didn’t have to shift my mental image of the piper at all… Though I did make some fun decisions about who the piper might be.

Reality wasn’t always so kind.

She found the other children quickly enough, and hoisted Barton up to get a better grip on him as she got closer. It looked like they were playing some kind of tag. “Can I play?”

As soon as the other kids saw her, they froze, and many of them scowled. Grace, a blonde girl and a very fast runner, even stuck her tongue out. “Why would we let you play?”

Johan, a large boy a couple years older than Nella, cut in at that point. “You don’t have to be mean about it.” That said, he still raised an eyebrow at Nella. “But are you sure? Father Monroe might get mad.”

Father Monroe was Nella’s caretaker at the orphanage. Nella bit her lip. “Even if I don’t, he’ll get mad about something anyway. I want to be friends.”

Another of the girls, Beth, snorted. “Who’d want to be friends with you? You spend all day hanging out with rats.” She looked Nella up and down and added, “I bet you’re the reason we’ve had to deal with so many of them lately.”

Nella shook her head and squeezed Barton tighter. This wasn’t going very well. All the words she’d thought up and practiced had vanished right out of her head.

Chris, the son of the town constable, chipped in. “I-I don’t think you have to worry about the rats m-much longer. Pa said they g-got someone to come and get rid of them.”

“Ha! Better keep a tight hold on your pet,” Beth said. Then she looked thoughtful. “Do you think he’ll take Nella away, too?”

A bunch of the other kids laughed, and tears pooled in Nella’s eyes. She stood still for a moment or two, then turned and ran, heedless of the calls one or two of the other kids made to her.

Nella sat at the edge of the fountain, sobbing. Some time later, a man’s voice called out to her. “Why are you crying, little one?”

She spun to see who spoke to her, and found a strange man staring at her. He wore a green felt shirt with bright red pants, with all sorts of bits and baubles dangling from his belt. His boots were well-worn but cared for, and a checkered cloak in yellow and black trailed behind him. In one hand he held a beautiful set of golden pipes.

Nella wiped her eyes. “It’s the other kids. They’re being mean, and say the rat-catcher is going to take me and Barton away. All I wanted was a friend…”

“Why, that is quite a sad tale.” The man mused for a moment. “I know what I shall do, then. Shall I play a song for you?”

“But…I don’t have anything to pay you with.”

“Fret not, dear child. This time, the only payment I require is to turn that frown into a brilliant smile. Shall I, then?”

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