Gameplay 1 - Red Vengeance

near Devon, England

We begin out story at a fork in the road, where both roads lead by different routes to Torkertown, your destination. Strangers meet and you know that you have been brought together by a mysterious force that speaks to you by dreams pointing you to Torkertown. As if compelled by fate, you each discover that you have all encountered the wanderer Solomon Kane, and from that time a new path for your lives began.

I'd like each of you to:
- introduce yourselves, and tell the others a little about your character.
- tell how you crossed Kane's path and what happened since

A couple of notes:
- Some of you may have been saved by Kane, or hunted by him and given a chance to attone for your sins
- You may have resisted the call of the dreams, and suffered terrible night terrors until you finally relented

Lastly, as I write this, only one character has been submitted, but feel free to post as if you had. Indeed, it may assist you in developing your character.

Gerald Eskot was born at home, in a small, poor village, 20 miles from Devon, England. The youngest of 4 siblings he was left with the ugly genes. His mother took off leaving him to be raised by his father who was a ne'er do well, picking up odd jobs, barely keeping food on the table. He was always hungry, stealing bits of food when the opportunity arose. It wasn't too long before Gerald ran off to a nearby village that had more to steal. He came to the attention of the local thieves guild and thus began his career in thievery.

On the way to a solo job he was cornered by a huge serpent. He fought as long as he could. Having lost an ear and a finger to the serpent, he presumed his life was next when suddenly a tall figure intervened. This man had a presence and immense power, and deftly overcame the serpent. Gerald, on the brink of death, was saved, and awestruck, and forever grateful to the man he came to know as Solomon Kane. As Solomon tended to his wounds, Gerald became inspired by Solomon's tales of adventure, battles and good deeds and was resolved to change his ways.

Soon after this incident, the spirit N'Longa appeared to Gerald in a dream, urging him to travel to Devon. Gerald felt that this dream was somehow related to Solomon Kane, so he trekked willingly to Devon.

Praise God was born to Charity and Geoffrey Waterston in December 1596 in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire. His father, a prominent speaker and minister in the burgeoning puritan movement had a tremendous influence on Praise God, who became vehemently anti-Roman Catholic at a very early age. His father had been threatened on more than one occasion for speaking out against the newly crowned Stuarts and was even rumored to have spoken favorably (in private company, of course) of the vile Catholic Guy Fawkes, simply due to the latter's similar hatred for the regime.

Praise God had contemplated following his father to Christ's College, Cambridge and from then to the ministry, but his father's arrest and subsequent death in the prisons of Northampton put those plans on hold. Praise God has since sworn revenge on Louis Upnor, magistrate of Northampton and who he believes is responsible for his fathers death.

Praise God took to publishing his father's sermons and speaking in public squares against the Catholic church and the Stuarts (who he never called out by name, for fear of being the same target his father was). It was after one of these particularly rousing speeches that he was approached by Soloman Kane, who promised Praise God that he could present him with true evil to slay. The somber wanderer had a magnetic personality, and Praise God - almost trance-like - dropped his ambitions and set-off for Devonshire in the far Southwest of England, to see what awaited him there.

Ataan felt the jostling stop as he looked up and out the back, he had arrived. England's roads between cities were mostly just dirt tracks but he opted to remain quite about it. Getting up and grabbing his meager possessions he found himself finally in Devon proper loking around like someone from the country. From what he was told he would consider this an old city of England. Mining still happening but this was all new to him. He had spent his time in Turkish countryside for too long but once his mother had died and the dreams started he heeded the call from fate. With a Turkish father soldier to the British Empire lost at war he didn't have a lot of faith in people seeing him as nothing more then a foreigner and possibly a troublemaker from his lanky build.

His jaw set as he recalled hearing the moans that night Kane had come. He woke and went to his mother's room thinking her possibly ill from the moaning and wails in the night. The thing on her chest the look of being alive but dead inside still etched on the back of his eyelids. The foul man beast chittering along as he shook her upper torso. He can still hear the crisp sound of boots moving into the room past him and the reaction from the monster of nightmares. The man made short work of the creature until it's limp body fluttered and turned to ash leaving only the aftermath of it's actions behind. Ataan was much younger then and not as jaded as now. A Bastı, he believed it was called, a goblin spirit that plagued people riding them as it induced horrific nightmares feeding off the negative energy until the victim was driven insane. Kane had seen him and saw the innerturmoil giving him the option, be bitter and wallow in what could have been done or learn how to do something useful. While he never though he'd be able to do what Kane did he was clever and these past almost two decades had given him tools to help others kill what he could not. He didn't want other children to become orphans as well due to his still hands and unmoving feet. He moved with purpose trying to get where he was going.

Ataan frowned he only figured out he had to get to the City of Devon... once here he had little inclination on where to exactly go. He moved looking for shelter to sort out his thoughts and come up with a plan of attack on finding out why he was lead here.

Cecily Meldrum lived a quiet peaceful life with her husband Andrew, and the two loved each other very much. They were bakers by trade, and in fact owned a small bakery shop which helped support them for many years; they never went hungry and could occasionally afford a luxury or two which struck their fancy. But beneath this quaint lifestyle hid a secret they kept from all but the most trusted of individuals: they were aspiring cultists. Any opportunity they could get their hands on a forbidden book, text, even remains of a sorcerer was taken, for whatever knowledge or power was hidden away would be theirs for the taking.

Despite their best efforts, the Meldrum's endeavors left a footprint which would haunt them. They received a letter from a secretive and rather affluent group of individuals who shared their unique interests, and invited them to a secluded manor where everyone would witness "true power". Ecstatic at such an offer the two happily went along, claiming to be "going on a small countryside vacation, should be back in a few days" so as not to arouse suspicion. This marked a turning point in Cecily's life, for the two of them were not meant to be members, but sacrifices instead. Her husband went first, stabbed through the heart while Cecily was powerless to stop. When it was her turn she could hear the sound of fighting and gunfire, the sight of a mysterious stranger fighting off the cultists slowly coming into view. Hope renewed Cecily tried to struggle, kicking over candles and smearing glyphs written in chalk. This didn't stop the knife from plunging into her body, but instead of the sharp pain she was expecting a terrible frigid coldness consumed her body, like she was plunged into the depths of an icy sea.

The next thing she remembers is waking up in the manor, everyone dead except her and the stranger who was simply staring at her. He looked conflicted, as if he was about to decide whether she should live or die. These thoughts terrified Cecily a great deal, so she begged and pleaded with the man to show mercy, knowing full well she was about to reap what was sowed. But the man surprised her instead, sparing her life despite her wicked dealings. "I will return to you someday." Was all he said before leaving, perhaps still considering whether this was truly the wisest choice for her. It wasn't until some time later in the back of a dimly lit tavern she learned the legends of this man: Solomon Kane.

In time Cecily realized the ritual had an unexpected side effect, one Solomon must've saw in her: a devil had possesed her. Spells which were incomprensible before became second nature, she could hear terrifying voices, and her mind was not always her own. She learned to control this gift, for the stake was all that would await a devil such as herself. In the back of her mind Solomom's promise was always there, reminding her what would happen should she decide to walk a darker path.

Imagine her surprise when it was Solomon who needed her aid. She did not hesitate to venture to Torkerton when the visions came to her, be it devil, angel, or some other creature, she had a debt to repay.

Having met at the fork in the road, as your stories spill out of you and cement your bond together, you all follow the road to Torkertown.

The wanderers enter Torkertown late one winter’s afternoon in search of an inn. The road they have been following leads them past the graveyard, where a funeral is taking place. Several dozen mourners are standing beside an open grave while the priest reads a funeral mass.

Make a Notice check please. If you have the Notice skill, roll the die plus a Wild die (an extra d6), and your result will be the better of the two results. If you are unskilled in Notice, roll both a 1d4 and a d6 Wild die, and subtract 2 from the better. Remember to click the Reroll Aces check box as these dice explode. Your TN is always 4.

The village is similar to countless others across England, and indeed Europe. At the center of the village is the green, an open area of grass on which the local markets and fairs are held. This is common ground, and when not in use by the villagers it is used to graze sheep. A gallows stands sentinel over the green, a reminder to all that justice, even in these days of rising banditry and rumored witchcraft, will be served.

Across one side of the green stands the church, an imposing stone-built structure dating back to the Normans, encompassed by a low stone wall, within the grounds of which lie the graves of Torkertown’s citizens. Though once Catholic, the church has been rededicated as a Protestant place of worship.

Beside the church is the manor house, owned by the squire, a rich landowner who is landlord to most of the populace. As befits his post, he is also the local magistrate. To the other side of the green is the local coaching inn, The Lamb. Situated on the London road, Torkertown has a steady influx of merchants and travelers.

Most of the common houses are low, stone-built cottages with thatched roofs, or timber structures with wattle and daub walls. The occupants are a mixture of crafters and tenant farmers, tilling the land of the squire or the Church-owned lands.

On the boundaries of the village are the sprawling farmhouses, some owned by the squire and run by tenant farmers, others are owned by the church, and a few independent of either authority. Beyond these are the crop and grazing fields. Like many settlements, there is an orchard in which grow apple and pear trees.

Making your way to the inn, it becomes obvious things are not right here. Beyond the church stand several small cottages, each with a freshly whitewashed cross on its door. A woman standing in the door of one crosses herself, and goes inside.

Across the village green, close to the inn, stands a large house. It is no doubt owned by someone of wealth and standing. Outside, a cart is being loaded with furniture while a woman dressed in black looks on with tear-filled eyes.

Before you know it, you have reached the door of the inn.

Ataan looks around as he goes.

Interesting looking place, Gerald thinks as he takes in the village and its inhabitants. His old self tells him there are some riches to be had here, especially in that fine looking manor house. But he is on a different road now, and those thoughts shall be banished.

Cecily finds this little town awfully bleak, looking about the place without interest save the mass grave and strange signs on the doorways.

The Lamb
The local inn, The Lamb, lies close to the church. The score of (all male) patrons inside sip their ale in silence, each with a worried look on his face.

What do you do?

Arriving at the silent inn full of sullen people, Gerald turns to one of the men. He doesn't want to address the question of the fresh graves directly so instead he asks, What ails this town good sir, that such a fine inn as this should be so quiet?

The man, wrapped up in his own ill humor, isn't immediately prone to share tidings with Gerald. Perhaps a Persuasion roll?

The bar keep looks at Felix dubiously, and says, "Cheap stuffs a £0.05. Want wine, that's £0.50."

"Fresh graves outside. Tragedy struck." Cecily says to her less perceptive companions, just loud enough for them and the barkeep to hear. Her expression remains neutral, not wanting to create any unnecessary anger from a stranger such as herself.

"Make it two." Cecily flips a few coins onto the counter, taking a position next to Felix.

Gerald takes the group aside and says in a low voice, Perhaps someone can be persuaded to let us know what's going on. I am not the person for the job. Just look at me. People would rather look away than at me. Anyone up for the task?

Whatever the issue, the bar keep isn't immediately forthcoming. Felix could make a Persuasion roll to get him to open up.