Two of my friends at work had never played a tabletop RPG until I introduced them to Dungeon World a few months ago. They loved it, and we’ve had a few sessions since then. This weekend we had a chance to have a quick get together on short notice, and I just wasn’t feeling Dungeon World. I had picked up The Sundered Land games a while back, and decided this was a great chance to take it for a spin. Play started with Caravan Guards, flipped to Doomed Pilgrim, back to those same caravan guards from the first story for Night Watch, a different Doomed Pilgrim, and finished up the stories of the guards with At Ends.
As we rotated the Narrator role around, all three of us wound up creating our own caravan guards. Here is the story told across those three minigames:
Alazay – Wielder of ancient weapons, dedicated to fallen gods. He bore an ancient weapon slung on his back.
42 – Former slave and revenant, child of blasphemy. His face remained covered except his glowing yellow eyes.
Len – Veteran of war, battlescarred, outranger and scout. His cloak and clothes blended into any surroundings.
Alazay and 42 (“slaves have no names,” declared his player) were the head guardsmen escorting a caravan along the Burnt Road, a series of waymarkers across the dunes of the High Desert. Noticing tracks in the sand ahead, Alazay bullied the caravan’s lead driver into skirting the next dune. Around the bend, they discovered a terrible horde armored and armed with spears. The change of route had spoiled the raiders’ ambush, and battle ensued.
In the opening moments, Alazay opened fire with his prized Forerunner firetube, felling the raider’s chieftain in a single shot. 42 chose that moment to reveal himself to have dark and powerful magicks at his disposal, summoning the chieftain back to live in an instant. The spirit, disoriented by the moments spent beyond the veil, lashed out in a deadly whirlwind at the nearest targets: its own allies. The raiders’ line of battle collapsed in moments; half fled, the other half were slain in moments by their erstwhile leader and the emboldened guards.
That night, sitting around the campfire, the three noteworthy guards exchanged tales of what lead them to this particular caravan. Alazay told of his faith in the wisdom of the Forerunners, and his “acquisition” of his prized weapon from the Museum of the Upturned Past, declaring, “The Forerunners didn’t make these things so they could sit around under glass.” Len told of his years of service as a battle scout for the armies of his brother, the General, before the day when he unwitting lead them into an ambush and barely escaped with his life. 42 explained how his people valued strength and potential above all, and how he had lost his station, and ultimately his life, in service of his father’s heedless pursuit of dark powers.
The morning found them whole and safe; the escaped raiders had not decided to mount a counterattack. The caravan reached the City of Gulls that afternoon. Len had blood enemies there, and an invitation to a certain great house for a party. Alazay knew of a treasure he could steal from the same great house. 42 was seeking his lost blood; the father who had slain him was here this day. All three cleaned up from the dust and dirt of the journey, and Alazay made a few purchases he chose not to share with his companions.
It was a holiday of great celebration throughout the City of Gulls, with much revelry in the streets and houses alike. Reaching the sprawling mansion to which he was invited, Len convinced the illiterate doorman to allow his friends in as well. He immediately ran into an old war buddy, and the two became the center of attention as they drank deeply and regaled the crowd with tales of noble and bloody deeds. Alazay used the distraction to slip upstairs and loot the rare Forerunner weapon he sought. 42, his glowing eyes marking him as touched by magicks, met and befriended a High Mage who led him to another party hosted by Arcmage Tiryon – his father.
Len and Alazay slipped away from the first part and boarded a cargo ship bound across the Empty Seas. 42 slipped quietly into the second party, and approached his father at the head table. At the moment a guard bent down to warn the old mage of the new arrival, 42 clambered atop the head table’s platform and hit his father with a thunderous blast of power. So mighty was the jolt that it blasted the old man from his seat, and out off the open patio to a several hundred foot drop. Tiryon landed with a sickening thud. His vengeance secured as a stunned and silent roomful of partygoers looked on, 42 strode out onto the patio and leapt off.
We ended it there, but we’ll be back for more.
Quickdraw Games 