vault backup: 2025-12-10 15:56:45
This commit is contained in:
Andrew Cohn
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.obsidian/workspace.json
vendored
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.obsidian/workspace.json
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@ -14,7 +14,7 @@
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"type": "markdown",
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"type": "markdown",
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"state": {
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"state": {
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"file": "Avalon/02_Sessions/session 6.md",
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"file": "Avalon/02_Sessions/session 6.md",
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"mode": "preview",
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"mode": "source",
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"source": true
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"source": true
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},
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},
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"icon": "lucide-file",
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"icon": "lucide-file",
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@ -1037,3 +1037,226 @@ Let Joe and Ben have a quiet beat:
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- Ben can double down (“I got this under control”) or admit he’s in over his head.
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- Ben can double down (“I got this under control”) or admit he’s in over his head.
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Fade back to campus / home with that hanging over them.
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Fade back to campus / home with that hanging over them.
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# Soren – The Dry River Calls
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>[!quote] Narration
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>School spits everyone out in different directions.
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>
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>Ben and Joe drift off toward the Circle, Pip’s shadow hanging over them.
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>
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>You should go home.
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>
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>Instead, you find your feet taking you toward the bus stop. Then the transfer. Then the dirt road that leads out toward the **real** river – the one that actually matters.
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Remind the player what this place is without saying “corpse” out loud yet:
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>[!quote] Narration
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>By the time you crest the last low rise, the sun’s dragging itself down toward the mountains. The **riverbed** stretches out below – wide, cracked, and dry, a pale scar through the scrubland.
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>
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>There hasn’t been real water here in weeks.
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>
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>But you feel it the second you see it:
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>
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>That tiny pull in your chest. Familiar. Hungry.
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>
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>Your **friend** misses you.
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Let Soren pick how she comes down – slow, cautious, or like she owns the place.
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>[!quote] Narration
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>You pick your way down the slope, boots crunching on loose rock. The air is hot and still. No birds. No wind. Just the soft grit of your footsteps.
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>
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>You know exactly where to go.
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>Past the sun-bleached branch that looks like a hand.
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>Past the half-buried tire.
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>Down to the little hollow where the dust is just slightly… wrong.
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If you want a roll, call for a **DC 12 Wisdom (Insight)** to gauge how much she’s in denial:
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- **On Success (she’s self-aware):**
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>You know how messed up this is.
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>
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>You know that coming back here doesn’t “fix” anything.
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>But it doesn’t stop the feeling that you *owe* them this. At least a visit. At least a hello.
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- **On Fail (she rationalizes it):**
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>Your brain spins you a better story.
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>
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>You’re just checking. Making sure nothing’s moved. Making sure no one else found them. Making sure your secret is still yours.
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>
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>That’s responsible, right? That’s what a *good* friend would do.
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Now, lean into the “calling” and the corpse without being graphic:
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>[!quote] The Friend
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>When you reach the hollow, the heat feels heavier. The air tastes like dust and copper.
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>
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>You can’t see much – just a hint of fabric in the shade of the overhang, a shape your eyes have learned to slide around.
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>
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>You don’t have to see them.
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>
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>You know exactly where **they** are.
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>
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>And for a heartbeat, you swear you hear it:
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>
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>“You’re late.”
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>
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>Not out loud. Not in your ears. Just… in the same place the **Root** has been rattling around since B2. But softer. Familiar. Annoyed.
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Let Soren respond however the player wants – out loud or in her head. Give a couple of prompts if they freeze:
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- “What do you say when your only reliable friend is a corpse in a ditch?”
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- “What’s the first thing you apologize for?”
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Then:
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>[!quote] The Friend
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>The presence sulks around the edges of your thoughts.
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>
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>“You went somewhere,” it murmurs. “Somewhere loud. Somewhere with screaming. Didn’t take me.”
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>
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>There’s a smear of trench – wrong sky, tower on the horizon, that frozen moment of the man being torn in half – and then it folds back into the dry riverbed.
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>
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>“You like *them* better?” it asks. “The new ghosts?”
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You can give her a quick **DC 13 Wisdom save** here if you want stakes:
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- **On Success:** she keeps it together, steers the conversation.
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>You feel the pull, but you don’t tip. You stay standing, stay in your own skin.
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>
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>You remember Pappy’s warning. The heartbeat. *Run up, not down.*
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>
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>You’re already as “down” as it gets.
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- **On Fail:** lean into the obsession, not violence:
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>You sink down onto your haunches without quite deciding to. The dry dirt stains your knees.
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>
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>For a moment, the world contracts to this hollow, this secret, this little knot of rot in the sun.
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>
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>Home doesn’t matter. School doesn’t matter. Only the fact that you left them here alone for **weeks**, and now the Root is whispering in places they never told you existed.
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Give her one small act:
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- Does she tell the friend about the field?
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- Promise to bring them “a piece of Korrin” next time?
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- Draw the Convergence Engine in the dirt and then scuff it out?
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Finish light(-ish):
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>[!quote] Narration
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>Eventually, the light starts to go. The sky shifts from blazing blue to gold to that ugly sodium orange that means the streetlamps are waking up back in town.
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>
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>The presence fades with the heat.
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>
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>“Don’t stay away so long next time,” it whispers, dusty and fond and wrong. “I get lonely.”
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>
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>You climb back up the bank.
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>
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>Behind you, in the hollow, nothing moves.
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>
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>But you can’t shake the feeling that when the **Root** reaches for you, it knows this place now too.
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>
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>It knows where you keep your friends.
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# Session End – Group Drift & Root Stinger
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## Walk Home / Split Screen
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>[!quote] Narration
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>The day doesn’t end all at once. It frays.
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>
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>Ben and Joe peel away from the Circle, streetlights flicking on overhead as the sedan’s taillights disappear down the road.
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>
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>Soren leaves the riverbed behind and cuts through side streets toward a house that never seems quite happy to see her.
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Give each player a quick, focused beat as they walk / ride home.
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### Ben – Bad Deal, Good View
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>[!quote] Narration
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>Ben – your mom’s SUV is a dark rectangle waiting at the end of the block, expensive paint catching the last bit of sun.
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>
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>Every step you take toward it, Pip’s “Madera Canyon” line crawls up your spine.
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Optionally call for a **DC 12 Wisdom or Insight**:
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- **On Success:** he clocks how close he is to being *useful* vs being a target.
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- **On Fail:** just anxiety, no clarity.
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Let Joe poke him here if you want a last little RP exchange:
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- “You really gonna work for that guy?”
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- “Dude, you heard him.”
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Button:
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>[!quote] Narration
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>Your mom waves from the driver’s seat, all smiles and soft music. Inside the car, the air smells like leather and vanilla.
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>
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>Outside, the Circle sign flickers. For half a second, it glitches – the O’s stutter into a jagged ring of purple before snapping back.
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### Joe – Legacy
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>[!quote] Narration
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>Joe – by the time you get home, your pockets are full of handouts and your head is full of someone else’s war.
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>
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>The house smells like grill smoke and laundry soap. Your sisters are arguing over who gets the couch. Your dad is watching a rerun of some old Mageball final with the volume too loud.
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>
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>The action figure in your pocket is *heavy*.
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Let him decide:
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- Does he pull Pappy out and stare at him?
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- Chuck him in a drawer?
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- Go straight to the backyard to hit the tackling dummy until his knuckles hurt?
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If you want a light roll: **DC 11 Wisdom** to see if Pappy “bleeds in” again. On fail, the toy stays quiet – which might be creepier.
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### Soren – Home Front
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>[!quote] Narration
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>Soren – the front door to your house is unlocked. It always is. Nobody here worries about strangers getting in; they worry about you getting out.
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>
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>There’s laughter from the kitchen. Your parents. Elise. Plates clink. Someone mentions “first impressions” and “scholarship committee” and “Elise’s potential.”
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>
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>Your name doesn’t come up.
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If the player wants to go in and mix it up, let them. If not:
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>[!quote] Narration
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>You slip past the doorway noise and retreat to your room.
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>
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>The jar of fingernails on your shelf hasn’t moved. Your diary is right where you left it.
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>
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>For the first time today, the house hum drowns out the Root’s heartbeat.
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>
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>It doesn’t feel better. Just… different.
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---
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## Button – The Root Watches
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>[!quote] Stinger
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>Somewhere far below Avalon, beneath the Mageball field and the Circle and the quiet middle-class houses, the **Root** groans.
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>
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>Where B2 used to be, raw magic flows through fresh stone, forced into a new path. Runes blink in the dark like irritated eyes.
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>
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>On a maintenance relay buried in a forgotten junction box, glyphs flicker to life one by one:
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>
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>**[SIGNAL RESTORED]**
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>**[ECHO PATTERN: KORRIN]**
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>**[LOCAL ANCHORS: SILVERSONG–MULKERBERG–FOOTBALL]**
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>**[FLAG: POINTS OF INTEREST]**
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>
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>For a heartbeat, the glyphs glitch – characters stuttering, rearranging themselves into something that almost spells a name you don’t quite see.
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>
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>Then the lights go out. The hum continues.
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>
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>Above, three teenagers try very hard to have a normal evening.
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>**SESSION 6 END**
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