53 KiB
campaign, type, session_number, date, arc, status, tags, last, next
| campaign | type | session_number | date | arc | status | tags | last | next |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Avalon Adventuring Academy | session | 6 | 2025-12-10 | leyline | ran | session_5 | session 7 |
Cold Open
[!quote] Cold Open Fire. Smoke. Everything feels slow.
Movement, and heat.
The only thing you hear clearly is breath. Not quite your own – like someone is using your lungs for practice. Your body feels heavier than it should, but it moves when “you” tell it to.
Mikey – right now, you’re not playing Joe Football. You’re playing his grandfather, Pappy, a young soldier in the Leyline War.
The sky over Korrin is wrong.
It should be night, but the darkness is washed thin – a flickering bruise of purple and sickly blue, pulsing every few seconds from the city in the distance. At its heart, the Convergence Engine rises over the buildings, a tower of crystal and steel with veins of light crawling up its sides in jittery bursts.
You’re crouched behind what used to be a stone wall and is now a jagged line of half-melted rubble. The air stinks of ozone, hot metal, and something sweeter underneath, like meat left too long in the sun.
Every few heartbeats, the ground gives a slow, heavy thump. It’s not artillery. It’s deeper. Like the bedrock itself is… breathing.
Call for a Perception or Insight check, DC 11.
[!quote] On Success The pulses in the ground aren’t random. After a while, you start to feel a rhythm. Three heavy shudders, a pause, three more. Like a heartbeat that’s far too slow and far too large.
[!quote] On Fail You can’t shake the feeling that each thump is getting just a little stronger. The wall vibrates with each one, gritty dust sprinkling into your hair every time like the trench is trying to shrug you off.
[!quote] Cold Open (Cont'd) A sergeant scrambles along the trench, boots slipping in the mud, voice hoarse from shouting. “Eyes up! HQ says one more push from the Engine and the bastards fold. You see that tower?” He jerks his chin at Korrin. “That’s our ticket home. We ride this surge, we walk into their lines like gods.”
Down the line, an older soldier with a half-melted helmet spits into the muck. “We’ve ‘ridden the surge’ three times this week,” he mutters. “Doesn’t feel like gods.”
Another thump. A crack zigzags a little further along the wall at your shoulder. Bits of glowing stone dust tumble down – warm against your cheek.
What does pappy do? Does he peek over the wall? Check his gear? Say a prayer?
Give Pappy a moment to react.
[!quote] Cold Open (Cont'd) There’s a whistle – not the sharp, clean kind from a ref, but a rising scream that your body recognizes faster than your mind. Incoming.
The sergeant shoves you down. “Heads—”
Impact.
The world becomes white noise and ringing. The wall in front of you jumps, then slams down in the mud in chunks. For a few seconds, all you see is dust and orange light.
When the sound resolves back into separate noises, there’s a new one: someone sobbing, wet and panicked, right next to you.
A kid – younger than you, barely stubble on his chin – is on his back, armor cracked open like a tin can. Shrapnel, or stone, or both has torn through his side. There’s too much blood and he’s trying to stuff it back in with his hands.
His eyes lock on yours. “Sarge— Sarge, I can’t— I can’t feel my legs. Am I—”
Call for a Medicine check, DC 10.
[!quote] On Success You grab his wrist, shove his hand away from the wound, and slap a bandage patch from your kit over the worst of it, pressing down hard. He screams, then gasps, but the bleeding slows. You can’t fix the missing pieces, but you can keep the rest from pouring out for now.
The kid clamps onto your sleeve. “You’re not… you’re not leaving me here, right?”
You don’t have time to answer before the next thump hits.
[!quote] On Fail You’ve seen bad wounds. This is worse. You go through the motions – bandage, pressure, words you’ve heard medics say – but the blood just keeps coming, sluggish and dark. The kid’s lips are already going grey.
He clutches at your sleeve anyway. “You’re not… you’re not leaving me here, right?”
You open your mouth to lie or to tell the truth – you’re not sure which – but the next thump hits first.
[!quote] Cold Open (Cont'd) The next pulse is worse.
It doesn’t just shake the ground – it twists it. For a second, the rubble in front of you stretches like taffy and then snaps back, like reality lagged and then caught up too fast.
Every enchanted trinket on every soldier – wards, comm-stones, weapon runes – flares at once in a discordant burst of light. Half the squad swears and claps hands over their ears as their charms scream in different pitches.
“Contact!” someone yells – but he’s not pointing at enemy troops. He’s pointing at air, about thirty feet out from your position.
The air in front of you creases, the way heat over stone makes the world ripple – except this isn’t heat. It’s a jagged line of absolute stillness, cutting through smoke and dust. The world on either side keeps moving; the line doesn’t.
A runner is sprinting along the trench, message satchel bouncing at his hip, eyes on Korrin. He doesn’t see it. He hits the crease at full speed.
For a heartbeat, he is bisected cleanly: one half of him a fraction of a second ahead of the other. Then the next leyline pulse hits.
The clean line becomes teeth.
There’s a sound like someone tearing wet canvas, and both halves of him jerk in different directions – one slamming against the trench wall, the other flung into the air. His face… doesn’t decide which way to go. Features smear, then slough, like wax flicked against a fire. He doesn’t even have time to scream properly; it comes out as a raw, shredded noise that cuts off halfway.
The tear snaps shut. What’s left of him hits the mud in pieces that don’t quite make sense together.
BEAT
The man next to you makes a strangled sound, then starts laughing – high, hysterical. “That ain’t spells,” he says. “That ain’t the enemy. That’s the leyline saying no.”
Another thump rolls through the earth, stronger still. Dust sifts from cracks overhead. In the distance, the Convergence Engine on Korrin’s skyline flares brighter, then brighter again, the crawling lights on its surface stuttering into a repeating loop.
Somewhere far behind you, horns and sirens start to wail all at once – too many warning systems tripping over each other. Officers are shouting, but their words are drowned out by the building hum.
[!quote] Cold Open (Cont'd) Closer this time – just a few feet down the trench – another soldier wasn’t fast enough to get clear. The leyline didn’t cut him in half. It caught him.
He’s half-embedded in the trench wall, stone and flesh fused together like the wall decided to grow him. One arm sticks out at a wrong angle, fingers clawing grooves in the mud. His face is turned toward you, eyes blinking out of sync with each other, like they’re taking turns remembering how.
“Help me,” he rasps. His voice comes half a second late, chasing his moving lips.
You know— in your gut, in your training, in every instinct screaming at you – that nothing about this is fixable.
What do you do?
Suggestions: try to pull him free, put him out of his misery, freeze up, back away.
[!quote] Cold Open (End) The hum under your boots builds into a single, continuous note. For just a second, as the next pulse hits, you feel something under the soles of your feet that is not earth and not stone.
It feels like a heartbeat that isn’t yours.
The cracks in the trench walls spiderweb outward. The lights on the Convergence Engine stutter in the same three-beat pattern you felt in the ground, then repeat. Then repeat again. The tower doesn’t look like a building anymore; it looks like an eye that just figured out how to open.
All along the line, men are shouting, praying, screaming. A few start firing into the air at nothing at all.
Somewhere behind you, an officer yells, “Cut the branches! CUT THE—”
The word shears off as the world lurches sideways and—
—you’re gone.
Transition Out
[!quote] Narration Joe- when you jolt awake, your cheek makes a familiar sound, like wet canvas being torn, as it unsticks from the wood of your desk. You realize you're in Estrada's Adventuring 101 class. It's your last period of the day.
Adventuring 101
Opening Beat
[!quote] Narration Joe – when you jolt awake, your cheek makes a wet slap as it unsticks from the wood of your desk. Your neck hurts like you lost a fight with gravity.
You blink blearily and realize you’re in Estrada’s Adventuring 101 class. Last period of the day. The classroom smells like sweat, old parchment, and cheap cafeteria food.
Let whoever’s in the room react first (Ben, Soren, random NPC).
- ToBen and Soren are here:
- “What’s the first thing your character says when Joe snaps awake like that?”
- Let them get a jab or two in before Estrada jumps on it.
[!quote] Estrada Estrada lowers the chalk he was using to draw a little stick-figure party on the board.
“Well,” he says dryly, “nice of you to join us, Mister Football. Did the desk say anything interesting, or is it still being tight-lipped about your future prospects?”
Give Joe a chance to fire back or play it straight.
“How Not To Die (Again)”
Use this as the core RP scene. You don’t have to hit every line – it’s a toolbox.
[!quote] Narration Estrada taps the chalkboard. There’s a crude drawing of four little adventurers, a big X for a trap, and a cartoon beholder that looks like it’s got hemorrhoids.
“Alright,” he says, clapping chalk dust off his hands, “for those of you who’ve been conscious this period, we’ve been talking about risk. Specifically: how not to get turned into a cautionary tale in your very first dungeon.”
Beat 1 – Call-back to detention
[!quote] Estrada He points the chalk at your row.
“Some of you,” he says, eyes flicking over Ben, Joe, Soren, “have already had a… practical demonstration of what happens when academy wards, leylines, and poor life choices collide.”
“So. Pop quiz. You find yourselves in a locked room with hostile constructs and an unfamiliar leyline device. What’s your first move?”
Let the players answer however they want (sarcasm, genuine, etc.). Use these responses:
-
If someone says “hit it” / “attack”:
Estrada winces.
“Bold. Wrong, but bold. Step one is identify the threat. If you don’t know what a thing is, you don’t know if hitting it makes it better, worse, or turns you into a smear.”
-
If someone says “look around / investigate / check exits”:
Estrada nods sharply.
“Yes. Assess. Room, exits, who you’ve got on your team. Half of you will die in your careers because you assumed the only problem in the room was the one with a face.”
-
If someone brings up B2 / the tap directly:
His expression tightens for just a second.
“And if you see something that looks like a tap that shouldn’t be there? You call it in. You don’t poke it, you don’t ‘just see what happens,’ you don’t use it to juice your spells. You are not the first idiots to think of that.”
Let them needle him about choking Ben, the impotence jokes, etc. Give him some flustered but in-character responses.
Beat 2 – Give them room to mess with Estrada
If they push the “my dick doesn’t work” bit / impotence heckling:
[!quote] Estrada (flustered but trying to stay professional) “I am not discussing my… personal life with a bunch of fifteen-year-olds,” he snaps, color rising in his cheeks.
“This is an academy classroom, not the back wall of the bathrooms at Mr. Magic’s. You want to waste your potential, do it on your own time. While you’re in my class, you’re going to learn how not to die stupidly.”
If someone goes too far (nut taps, etc.), you can flash a bit of the temper that got him in trouble:
His jaw clenches. For a second, there’s that same edge you saw in detention when he lost it.
Then he inhales, slow, obviously fighting it down.
“Last warning,” he says. “You want to keep making jokes, I can find more custodians that need hitting.”
Let them riff. Then pivot to the admin interruption.
Transition – End of Adventuring 101
[!quote] Narration The bell rune over the door lights up and chimes, signaling the end of Adventuring 101. Half the class is already halfway out of their seats.
Before anyone can bolt, Estrada raises his voice.
“Mulkerberg. Silversong. Football. Sit. Everyone else? Get out. You’re done for the day.”
The rest of the class flows around you, a river of backpacks and muttered complaints. A couple of kids shoot you pitying looks. One gives Joe the universal “you’re so screwed” thumbs-up.
Let them react a bit (“What’d we do now?”, etc.), then:
[!quote] Estrada Once the door shuts and it’s just the four of you, Estrada leans back against his desk, arms folded.
“Congratulations,” he says. “You’ve impressed the kind of people you don’t actually want to impress.”
He flicks a folded note crystal onto the desk in front of him.
“Oversight pinged admin. ‘Localized feedback events. B-series incident. Unusual student signatures.’” He air-quotes each phrase with increasing irritation.
“Translation: grab my biggest headaches and drag them out to the Mageball Field so the man from Root Oversight can tell them not to lick the leyline.”
He jerks his chin at the door.
“Up. Field. Now. Try not to spontaneously combust on the way, I don’t get paid enough to fill out that form.”
Field Safety Briefing
[!quote] Narration The Mageball Field is mostly empty at this hour. No teams practicing, no crowds in the bleachers – just the faint hum of the leyline conduits under the turf and the ghostly shimmer of ward lines under the end zones.
At midfield, someone has set up a portable Oversight rig: a waist-high stone plinth etched with Root sigils, crystal rods fanning out like ribs, all feeding into a floating projection basin.
Standing beside it, hands folded over the head of a plain staff, is a man in dark, formal robes. Silver streaks his dark hair; a thin lattice of faintly glowing runes creeps up one side of his neck like old burn scars.
Kalen D’Serris looks exactly like someone who hasn’t slept properly since the last crisis no one told you about.
Give the players a free beat to make comments as they approach (shit-talk Estrada, size up D’Serris).
[!quote] Estrada Estrada clears his throat as you arrive.
“Overseer D’Serris,” he says, voice much more respectful than you’ve ever heard it in class. “These are the students you requested.”
He gestures vaguely at you three. “Mulkerberg. Silversong. Football. My… repeat customers.”
Let them introduce themselves however they want. Then D’Serris takes over.
Kalen D'Serris– Opening
[!quote] D'Serris D’Serris studies each of you in turn with the flat, assessing look of someone used to reading charts more than faces.
“Thank you, Instructor Estrada. You may remain,” he says, “in case… practical illustration is required.”
His eyes flick back to you.
“I am Kalen D’Serris, Overseer for this segment of the Root. You are here because your signatures appeared on my instruments where they should not.”
He taps the edge of the plinth. The crystals hum and briefly show a ghostly outline of the campus, with three bright points pulsing roughly where you stand.
“You have already been involved in one subnode incident,” he continues. “Unreported B-series activity. Constructs misbehaving. Improvised ‘solutions.’”
He doesn’t quite say “you idiots nearly blew up my node,” but it’s in the silence.
“This is your supplemental Root safety briefing. You are not in trouble… yet.” The pause hangs. “But you are on my board now.”
Give them a chance to mouth off:
- If Ben cracks a weed joke / “Lil Stinky” comment.
- If Joe asks “what’s a subnode?”
- If Soren does something ominous / disconnected.
Estrada can interject:
[!quote] Estrada “What he means,” Estrada adds, “is: ‘Hi kids, please stop wandering into magical live wires.’”
If they needle Estrada, let D’Serris cut that off with a raised hand:
[!quote] D'Serris “Save the classroom comedy,” D’Serris says. “I’m not your audience.”
“I need to know if you are causing these events… or if something in the Root is simply choosing you as witnesses.”
D’Serris – Mini-Lecture (Short, Not Boring)
[!quote] D'Serris He gestures, and the basin fills with a simplified diagram: a thick glowing trunk line, branching smaller lines, a few nodes marked with runes.
“The Root,” he says, “is the global leyline infrastructure. What you tap for lights, teleportation, shields, your charming little Mageball tricks.”
“Avalon sits on a secondary trunk. That is not unusual. What is unusual is the density of active subnodes in a school this young, and the… creativity with which some of you have already interacted with them.”
He gives you a look that lands squarely between “impressed” and “disappointed father.”
“When a subnode like your B2 becomes unstable, we see: – flow spikes, – anomalous hum patterns, – and sometimes… echoes of past events that should not be able to replay.”
“My concern is that your presence at A3, at B2, and in detention coincides with Root telemetry that looks uncomfortably like the early stages of… another incident.”
Let someone ask:
- “Another what?”
- “What kind of incident?”
Then drop the name:
[!quote] D'Serris He exhales slowly.
“Korrin Gate,” he says. “The Leyline Crisis. A city that almost tore itself off the map because people who should have known better treated the trunk like a toy.”
His gaze sharpens.
“I fought there. So did people like your… Pappy Football, Mister Joe. I have no interest in watching it happen again over a Mageball field.”
The Glitch
Call for a Wisdom save from each PC (DC 13-ish). Success/fail doesn’t change whether they go in, just how disoriented they are and how many details they catch.
[!quote] Narration As D’Serris says “Korrin,” the hum under your feet ticks up a notch.
At first you think it’s just nerves – the field has always had a faint vibration from the buried conduits.
Then the pattern sharpens.
Three heavy thumps in the dirt. A pause. Three more. Like a heartbeat that’s far too slow and far too big.
Jog their memory of the cold open.
[!quote] Narration The crystals on the Oversight rig flare, then stutter. Glyphs across the plinth start scrolling too fast to read.
D’Serris frowns, tapping a control rune. “That’s not—”
—and the world snaps sideways.
The Glitch – Frozen in Korrin
[!quote] Narration Smoke. Heat. Screaming – and then nothing.
You’re standing in a trench of black glassy earth, the walls half-melted stone. The sky over you is wrong: it should be night, but instead it’s a bruised purple, streaked with sickly blue light that pulses from a distant tower – the Convergence Engine, rising over a broken city on the horizon.
Everything is stalled mid-catastrophe.
Artillery shells hang in the air, their shockwaves frozen as ripples in the dust. A wave of fire sits halfway through a roll, embers suspended like a field of stars. Shouted orders hang as flickers on the air, mouths open, sounds chopped off mid-word.
Bring their attention to The Moment:
[!quote] Narration Ten feet away, a runner is frozen in the act of dying.
He’s mid-stride, one foot in the trench, the other… inside the wall. A jagged vertical line splits him from crown to crotch – on one side, he’s a half-second ahead; on the other, a half-second behind.
His face didn’t decide which way to go.
Features smear and double, layers of expression stacked over each other: terror, focus, surprise, all frozen and wrong. Blood hangs in the air between him and the stone like shredded glass.
Now you add Pappy, aware and mobile:
[!quote] Narration In the middle of this frozen horror, one man moves.
He’s kneeling in the trench mud just beyond the split soldier, hand halfway extended like he was about to grab the runner and drag him down.
Young – early twenties – battered armor, helmet askew, jaw clenched. His eyes track from the torn man to you as if you’ve just appeared in the middle of his worst memory.
He squints.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he mutters. “You ain’t my squad.”
Let Joe (and the others) get a line or two in. Then:
[!quote] Pappy He shifts to face you fully, boots grinding in the glassy mud.
“Name’s Harlan Football,” he says. “Friends call me Pappy. This—” he jerks a thumb at the frozen runner “—is the part where it all went to shit.”
His gaze lands on Joe and sticks there.
“You,” he says slowly, “look like my sister’s boy. Just… softer. Less dirt. You from back home, or somewhere else entirely?”
Interaction Beats
You can let them improvise, but here are some structured beats you can hit.
Beat 1 – Establish where/when they are
Prompt them with a simple question from Pappy if they don’t ask first:
[!quote] Pappy “So,” he says, looking between the three of you, “you gonna tell me where you just popped in from, or are we all gonna pretend this is normal?”
Once they give some version of “Avalon / the Academy / the future / safety briefing,” give them the hard name:
He snorts a humorless laugh.
“Yeah. That tracks. You smell like school wards, not frontline wards.”
He jerks his chin at the ruptured sky.
“This is Korrin Gate, kids. Middle of the Leyline War. The day the geniuses in the tower decided to spin the whole damn Root up like a child’s toy.”
If they ask what happened to the runner / can we help him:
[!quote] Pappy Pappy reaches out toward the torn man, stops with his hand hovering a few inches away.
“He’s already dead,” he says, voice flat. “This here’s just the part my brain won’t stop replaying.”
He glances back at you.
“You can’t fix this. You’re walking through a scar, not a battlefield.”
No roll, no false hope – just clear “this is an echo.”
Beat 2 – Name-drop the Engine and D’Serris
Have one of them point at the tower, or ask “what is that?”
[!quote] Pappy He follows your gaze to the tower on the horizon.
“That?” he says. “That’s the Convergence Engine. Biggest mistake we ever built.”
“Idea was: take all this—” he stomps the trench floor “—all the power from the trunk, squeeze it through that thing, and shoot it at the enemy like a god’s own spear.”
He spits into the dirt.
“Nobody asked the leyline if it wanted to be a spear.”
They might ask if anyone was in charge / who decided this was wise.
He snorts.
“Some Overseer up in the tower – name like D’Serris – kept telling the brass it was fine. ‘Manage the branches, protect the trunk,’ all that.”
“Maybe he believed it. Maybe he just couldn’t admit he’d built something he couldn’t turn off.”
(This lines up nicely with D’Serris’ “no more Korrins” line back on the field.)
Beat 3 – The Heartbeat Warning
Tie it back to the hum your players have been feeling at school.
[!quote] Narration Under your boots, you feel it again – a deep, slow thump that isn’t sound so much as pressure. It rolls up through the trench floor, into your bones, into your teeth.
In the frozen distance, the Convergence Engine’s veins of light pulse in time with it.
[!quote] Pappy Pappy’s head tilts, listening.
“There it is,” he says softly. “You feel that? That’s not artillery. That’s the Root getting sick.”
He fixes each of you with a hard look.
“I don’t know where you ’re standing these days – school, city, whatever – but if you ever hear that heartbeat under your feet, you don’t go looking for the source.”
“You run up, not down. Away from taps, away from hatches, away from whatever idiot built their house over the loudest part.”
If someone mentions B2 / the subnode / “we already went down once”:
His expression darkens.
“Then you’re already in deeper than I’d like,” he says. “You don’t want to see what it looks like when the line decides it’s had enough and throws the riders off.”
Beat 4 – Optional: Joe/Pappy specific hook
If you want a deeper Joe hook, drop this:
[!quote] Pappy He squints at Joe again.
“They give you a toy?” he asks abruptly. “Little hero figurine, unit colors, stupid catchphrase?”
He taps his own chest.
“They made one of me after this. ‘Heroes of Korrin,’ plastic and lies. I kept one. Dumbest thing I ever carried into a war.”
His eyes flicker, like he’s hearing something you can’t.
“If you got one like that… it’s probably why you’re here. Root remembers patterns. Hates to let ’em go.”
Joe showing the figure here is optional – if he does, you can have Pappy react (“Hah. Ugly as I remember.”) but don’t over-explain; save the full golem/soul-echo reveal for later.
Beat 5 – Kick them back
When you’re ready to end the scene:
[!quote] Narration The heartbeat under your feet accelerates – still too slow for anything living, but faster than before. The Convergence Engine on the horizon flares brighter, veins of light crawling up its frame in stuttering loops.
The frozen shells twitch in the air. The torn runner jitters, his two halves trying to decide which second they belong to.
[!quote] Pappy Pappy glances toward the tower, then back to you.
“That’s my cue,” he says. “This is the part where everything gets worse.”
“Listen to me: you see people building anything that looks like this again—” he jerks his chin toward the Engine “—you stop ’em. Or you run. Or both. But don’t pretend you didn’t know what it meant.”
[!quote] Narration The heartbeat slams into a single, deafening note that rattles the trench apart.
The Convergence Engine erupts in white light.
For a split second, the frozen shells and the runner and Pappy and the trench walls all smear into lines of brightness –
—and then grass slams back under your boots instead of glass, sun in your eyes instead of bruise-sky, Estrada shouting something you only half-hear as the Mageball Field snaps back into focus.
D’Serris – “What did you see?”
[!quote] Narration The Mageball Field snaps back around you – bright sun, green turf, the faint buzz of the leyline under the ground.
Your hearts are still hammering. Your legs feel like they’re a half-step behind you. Joe, your hand is clenched so tight around Pappy’s action figure your knuckles hurt.
Estrada is a pace away, hand half-extended like he was about to grab one of you and drag you clear.
The Oversight rig is whining, runes along the plinth flickering from blue to angry red.
[!quote] Estrada “Okay,” Estrada says, voice pitched too high to sound casual, “that was not in the lesson plan.”
He looks from you three to the plinth.
“Somebody want to tell me why my kids just went statue on my field?”
[!quote] Narration D’Serris has one palm pressed flat to the stone, like he’s pinning something in place. The veins of light along his neck runes are brighter than before.
He looks older than he did five minutes ago.
[!quote] D'Serris “Because,” he says quietly, “they just rode a Root echo.”
His eyes cut to you – sharp now, all business.
“What did you see?” he asks. “All of you. Start at the beginning. Do not edit.”
Let Them Answer
Let each PC speak in turn. Prompt if they hesitate:
- “Joe, first. One sentence at a time.”
- “Ben, what stuck out to you?”
- “Soren, what did you hear?”
If they give vague answers (“War? Some guy?”), push for detail:
[!quote] D'Serris He shakes his head once.
“Vague is useless,” he says. “City? Terrain? Structures? Uniforms? Anything you recognized. This is not a creative writing exercise; it’s forensics.”
Reaction Snippets (Use As Needed)
If they mention trenches / battlefield
As soon as someone says “trench” or “front line,” D’Serris’ expression tightens.
“Good,” he says. “That narrows it. Trench warfare with that magnitude of Root shear? Korrin front, not the later urban fighting.”
If they mention the wrong sky / bruise colors
He nods slightly.
“Distorted sky, purple and blue pulses,” he repeats. “Convergence overdraw. Late-stage escalation.”
If they mention the tower / Engine
If anyone describes the tower:
[!quote] D'Serris “A tower with veins of light, pulsing up the sides,” he echoes. “The Convergence Engine. You got that close in the echo?”
He looks almost offended at the Root itself. “Of course you did. Why wouldn’t it drag children right to the worst part.”
If they mention the runner being torn in half
If they talk about the bisected runner, smeared face, fused wall:
[!quote] D'Serris He shuts his eyes for a beat, jaw tight.
“Temporal shear and spatial torsion,” he says. “Yes. That tracks. That’s what happens when the trunk says ‘no’ and the Engine keeps saying ‘more’.”
He opens his eyes again. “You’re describing it too accurately for hearsay.”
You can let Soren lean into the gore here and have D’Serris stay coldly clinical, which will make it worse.
If they mention Pappy by name
If they say “there was a young soldier, Harlan / Pappy Football”:
[!quote] D'Serris His gaze snaps to Joe.
“He gave you a name?” he asks. “Say it again.”
Once they repeat it:
“Harlan Football,” he says. “Infantry, Korrin Gate. I signed his discharge papers.”
He looks Joe up and down. “And you’re his… grandson. Of course you are.”
If they describe Pappy talking directly to them / warning them
“He spoke to you,” D’Serris says, more to himself than to you.
“Not just a replay. Interactive. That’s… new.”
His eyes narrow. “What did he tell you to do when you hear the heartbeat?”
If they repeat the “run up, not down” line:
He huffs out a humorless breath.
“For once, the Root picked a veteran with decent advice,” he says. “Shame nobody listened to him when it mattered.”
Optional: Deception / Holding Back
If any player tries to lie or hold back key details (“we didn’t see much”, hiding Pappy, hiding how long they were there):
- Call for a Deception vs Insight check.
- If they fail:
[!quote] D'Serris He watches you a moment longer than is comfortable.
“No,” he says. “You’re leaving something out.”
His tone doesn’t rise, but it hardens.
“You do not get to lie to me about Korrin. Try again.”
- If they succeed, he lets it go for now, but make a note that he’s suspicious and file it away for later consequences.
Action Figure Focus (Joe)
If Joe’s still got Pappy’s figure out / in a death grip, bring it in now:
[!quote] D'Serris D’Serris finally looks down at Joe’s fist.
“The toy,” he says. “Let me see it.”
If Joe lets him:
He takes it very carefully, like it’s made of glass and bad decisions.
He turns it once in his hand, eyes going out of focus in a way you’ve already seen when he reads Root data.
“Commemorative issue,” he murmurs. “Heroes of Korrin, third run. Embedded resonance from the original imprint ceremony… and then some.”
He looks back at Joe.
“You are carrying a very noisy anchor, Mister Football. Between this and your blood, the Root had no trouble pulling you into the echo.”
He hands it back, deliberately.
“Don’t wave that over any more open taps,” he adds. “Unless you want a repeat performance.”
Wrap-up Lines
When they’ve given enough detail, close with D’Serris tying it together and setting stakes:
[!quote] D'Serris “What you just experienced,” he says, “is not a spell. It is not a hallucination. It’s the Root re-playing trauma through the nearest compatible circuit.”
He glances at the still-flickering runes on the rig.
“Korrin’s patterns should not be bleeding this far down the trunk. Not without help.”
He straightens, the Overseer mask sliding fully back into place.
“Here is what I need from you: if it happens again – if you hear that heartbeat, if you see that sky – you tell me or Elias or Larkvale. Immediately. No detours. No ‘investigating on your own.’”
His gaze lingers on each of you.
“You are not in trouble. Yet. But you are officially points of interest. And if you decide to be heroes about this the way Korrin tried to be…”
He tilts his head toward the invisible memory of the runner in the wall.
“…you’ve already seen how that ends.”
Let Estrada undercut the tension a bit and kick them loose:
[!quote] Estrada Estrada exhales.
“You heard the man,” he says. “Report weird leyline crap. Don’t jump into glowing holes. Try not to die.”
He jerks a thumb toward the campus.
“Alright. Safety briefing’s over. Go be dumb teenagers somewhere that isn’t built on a live magical landmine.”
Ben's Folly (with Joe)
Arriving at The Circle
[!quote] Narration The Circle Fuel & Snacks is the same as always: magic pumps humming, a flickering neon sign in the window, smell of grease and sugar and old cigarettes.
The parking lot’s mostly empty except for three beat-up vehicles:
– a rusted-out sedan with one mismatched door,
– a compact wagon with a cracked headlight,
– and a low hoverboard rack with a halfling-sized helmet dangling off it.Leaning against the sedan, smoking something that smells like burnt sage and cheap weed, is Pip – small, wiry halfling, bleached tips on his hair, hoodie two sizes too big, rings on every finger. Same smug little smile he had before he tried to box you in with headlights.
Two older human kids lounge nearby – one on the hood, one flicking a lighter open and shut – watching the lot like bored guard dogs.
It is very clear this is their parking lot right now.
Call for a DC 13 Insight from each of them:
-
On Success (either PC)
These guys aren’t just chilling. The “muscle” are keyed in: hands free, eyes tracking exits and angles. This is a controlled situation.
Pip is the mouth. The sedan is the real threat. -
On Failure
They read more like background noise – older kids hanging out, bored, half-paying attention. Pip’s the only one really doing anything.
Let them approach. When they come into speaking distance:
[!quote] Pip Pip flicks his smoke away and grins without warmth.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Lil Stinky, live and in person. Thought maybe you’d ghost me again.”
His eyes slide past Ben and land on Joe.
“And you brought… what, security?” he adds. “That’s adorable.”
Give them space for a line or two of banter, then move Pip to the point.
Pip Lays Out the Problem
If Joe tries to posture (crack knuckles, step up, whatever), let him:
- Optional: Joe Intimidation (DC 14)
- Success: The muscle clock him and sit up a bit straighter, but don’t move. Pip clocks him as a problem, not a pushover.
- Failure: The muscle smirk. Pip files Joe under “big, dumb, not the one I’m here for.”
Then:
[!quote] Pip “Here’s the thing, Lil Stinky,” Pip says, stepping closer to Ben. “You didn’t just waste my time the other night when you took off.
You wasted my boss’ time.”
He jerks a thumb toward the sedan.
“He had product riding a nice, quiet little arcane route right under your fancy academy’s field. And then, like magic – poof. Route’s dead. Signal drops. Stock goes cold.”
Pip taps the side of his head.
“And you know when that happened?”
He looks up at you.
“Same night you and your little friends were playing spelunker under the bleachers.”
Call for a DC 14 Insight from Ben (Joe can roll too, but this one’s mainly for Ben):
-
On Success
He’s not guessing. Someone with access to the maintenance chatter tied your biometric pings to that failure. Pip is working off real intel, not rumors. There’s no easy “you can’t prove anything” out here.
-
On Failure
It still could be coincidence. Creepy coincidence, sure, but maybe he’s just pattern-matching and bluffing harder than he should.
[!quote] Pip “My boss has people who read the chatter,” he goes on. “Talk of ‘Node B2’, ‘output failure’, ‘student signatures in the tap cell’.”
He spreads his hands.
“Now, I’m not a genius artificer, but even I can do the math:
you down there + line dies = my supplier pissed.”
If Ben is cocky / dismissive
[!quote] Pip Pip’s smile gets thinner.
“Cute,” he says. “Real cute.”
He steps in just close enough that Ben can smell the smoke and cheap cologne.
“Here’s the thing, Lil Stinky: my boss doesn’t care about the technical explanation.
He cares that his route through ‘AVL-ACAD B2’ died the same night some rich kid from up the hill went ghost in his headlights.”He taps Ben’s chest once, lightly, with two fingers.
“He told me to collect. Money. Info. Or respect. In whatever order I can get it.”
If Joe tries to jump in to defend Ben here (“We didn’t blow it up!” / “You don’t know shit!”), you can give him:
- DC 13 Persuasion (Joe backing Ben’s version of events)
- Success = Pip files Joe under “solid friend, possible asset.”
- Fail = Pip ignores Joe as noise and stays locked on Ben.
If Ben says “We tried to save it!”
If Ben leans on the truth or half-truth (“we were trying to stop it from exploding / we turned it down / we didn’t blow your route on purpose”):
[!quote] Pip Pip cocks his head, listening, expression unreadable.
“So you’re saying,” he drawls, “that if you hadn’t gone under there, my boss’ route might’ve fried completely with zero warning.
That you saved his pipeline, and the crack was just… collateral.”
Call for a DC 15 Persuasion from Ben (Joe can Help if he backs the story):
-
On Success
Pip actually pauses, glances back at the sedan, then at you two.
“Huh,” he says. “So you were the idiots with fingers in the dam, not the ones swinging the sledgehammer.”
He shrugs. “I can work with ‘idiots who tried to help’. Makes my report sound less like ‘total disaster’ and more like ‘unexpected maintenance’.”
His posture softens a notch; the muscle relax a hair.
-
On Failure
Pip lets you talk yourself out, then shakes his head.
“Look, I don’t get paid for ‘maybe’,” he says. “All I’ve got is: before you, route worked; after you, it didn’t.
That’s the story that pays my rent.”
Either way, move to the deal.
The Deal (Ben’s Hook)
[!quote] Pip Pip leans back a little, eyes flicking between Ben and Joe.
“Look, I’m not here to stuff you into the trunk,” he says. “Bad for business. Cops get nosy, Oversight gets nosy, nobody makes money.”
He points at Ben.
“You? You’re on campus. You sell to kids with allowances. You’re useful.”
He tilts his head at Joe.
“And you brought a chaperone. Love that for you. Means I only gotta explain this once.”
Let Ben react / crack a joke if he wants. Then:
[!quote] Pip “So here’s what we’re gonna do.”
“You keep doing your little dime-bag hustle at school. Pretend you’re king of W-block, whatever helps you sleep in the big house.”
“In return, when weird shit happens with the grid again – lights, voices, glitchy taps, teachers freaking out about ‘leylines’ – you tell me first.”
He ticks points off on ringed fingers:
“Not your mom.
Not your counselor.
Not that try-hard TA they keep dragging underground with you.”“You hear about a node going red, a hatch opening, a ‘subnode’ whatever? You send me a ping. I pass that upstream. My boss gets advance warning instead of nasty surprises.”
“Everybody’s happy.”
He shifts his weight, thumb hooking toward the dark hill where Madera Canyon sits.
[!quote] Pip “You play ball, that little debt from the Circle? Forgotten. I’ll even cut you a better rate on your next re-up. Call it a ‘thank you for your service’ discount.”
“You don’t play ball?”
He jerks his thumb toward the hill again.
“Then maybe one night some bored goons take a drive up Madera, check out the view. Maybe they don’t break anything. Maybe they do.”
“Either way, you’ve got more to lose than we do.”
Joe’s Say
Let Joe react before Ben commits. A couple options:
-
If Joe tells Pip to back off / threatens him:
- DC 14 Intimidation
- Success: Pip respects the spine but re-aims all threats at Ben’s family, not Ben’s body.
- Fail: Pip laughs it off – “You gonna tackle the leyline for him too, hero?”
- DC 14 Intimidation
-
If Joe tries to talk Ben out of it in front of Pip:
Pip smirks. “Love a conscience,” he says. “Shame it doesn’t pay for busted routes.”
If Joe keeps his mouth mostly shut, you can throw him a bone later with a private aside.
Ben’s Choice
Let Ben decide: Accept, Reject, or Fake It.
Ben Accepts
[!quote] Pip Pip’s grin returns, wider, more relaxed.
“Knew you were a smart kid,” he says. “All bark, some brain.”
He pulls out his own sending-stone, taps it against Ben’s; a small rune flashes as the devices sync.
“There. Direct line. When the Academy’s tap sneezes, you text me ‘bless you’ and a few details. That’s it.”
He steps back, gives a little mock salute.
“Stay safe, Lil Stinky. I’d hate to have to find a new campus plug.”
Ben Tries to Haggle
If Ben tries to negotiate terms (“no family threats,” “I get a cut,” etc.):
- Call for DC 14 Persuasion.
- Success: Pip will soften one thing (e.g. “Fine, house is off-limits. Cars and reputations aren’t.”)
- Fail:
“You’re not in a position to bargain,” he says. “Take the deal or don’t. Clock’s ticking.”
Ben Rejects
[!quote] Pip Pip’s face goes flat. He takes a slow drag of a fresh smoke, flicks ash at the pavement.
“Okay,” he says finally. “Okay.”
“That’s your play. I respect a bad decision. Keeps the universe interesting.”
“But then we’re done with ‘favours’ and ‘discounts’. Next time my boss says, ‘That kid at the Academy cost us a route,’ I don’t have any reason to say, ‘Nah, he’s useful.’”
“Next time something breaks under your school, I’m not asking questions. I’m just picking a target to make a point.”
He looks between Ben and Joe.
“Think it over, Mulkerberg. When the lights flicker in your fancy little canyon, you’re gonna wish someone in this parking lot was rooting for you.”
Ben Fakes Acceptance
If Ben says yes but intends to ghost them later:
-
Call for Deception vs Pip’s Insight (Pip is a mid-tier scumbag; give him +3 Insight).
-
If Ben wins:
Pip buys it, runs the Accept branch, completely convinced he’s got his inside man.
-
If Pip wins:
Pip squints at Ben, then chuckles.
“You’re not the first kid who thought he could nod and smile and then pretend my number doesn’t exist,” he says.
“Tell you what: we’ll call this a trial run. You feed me something useful next time your school hiccups, I’ll believe you’re serious. You don’t?”
He clicks his tongue.
“We go back to Plan C: you learn what it feels like to be on the wrong side of my boss’ mood.”
Exit & Button
[!quote] Pip As you turn to go, Pip calls after you:
“Oh – and, hey, Lil Stinky?”
You glance back.
“Next time you’re under there, tell your little magic tree friend I said hi.”
He taps the pavement with his heel.
“Routes change. Product finds new paths. So do other things.
You kids aren’t the only ones using that root.”
He gets into the sedan; the engine coughs to life. The muscle pile in. Headlights flare, wash over you both, then swing out toward the road.
Let Joe and Ben have a quiet beat:
- Joe can hit Ben with “What the hell was that?” / “Dude, this is bigger than twenty-five-gold bags.”
- Ben can double down (“I got this under control”) or admit he’s in over his head.
Fade back to campus / home with that hanging over them.
Soren – The Dry River Calls
[!quote] Narration School spits everyone out in different directions.
Ben and Joe drift off toward the Circle, Pip’s shadow hanging over them.
You should go home.
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.
Remind the player what this place is without saying “corpse” out loud yet:
[!quote] Narration 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.
There hasn’t been real water here in weeks.
But you feel it the second you see it:
That tiny pull in your chest. Familiar. Hungry.
Your friend misses you.
Let Soren pick how she comes down – slow, cautious, or like she owns the place.
[!quote] Narration 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.
You know exactly where to go.
Past the sun-bleached branch that looks like a hand.
Past the half-buried tire.
Down to the little hollow where the dust is just slightly… wrong.
If you want a roll, call for a DC 12 Wisdom (Insight) to gauge how much she’s in denial:
-
On Success (she’s self-aware):
You know how messed up this is.
You know that coming back here doesn’t “fix” anything.
But it doesn’t stop the feeling that you owe them this. At least a visit. At least a hello. -
On Fail (she rationalizes it):
Your brain spins you a better story.
You’re just checking. Making sure nothing’s moved. Making sure no one else found them. Making sure your secret is still yours.
That’s responsible, right? That’s what a good friend would do.
Now, lean into the “calling” and the corpse without being graphic:
[!quote] The Friend When you reach the hollow, the heat feels heavier. The air tastes like dust and copper.
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.
You don’t have to see them.
You know exactly where they are.
And for a heartbeat, you swear you hear it:
“You’re late.”
Not out loud. Not in your ears. Just… in the same place the Root has been rattling around since B2. But softer. Familiar. Annoyed.
Let Soren respond however the player wants – out loud or in her head. Give a couple of prompts if they freeze:
- “What do you say when your only reliable friend is a corpse in a ditch?”
- “What’s the first thing you apologize for?”
Then:
[!quote] The Friend The presence sulks around the edges of your thoughts.
“You went somewhere,” it murmurs. “Somewhere loud. Somewhere with screaming. Didn’t take me.”
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.
“You like them better?” it asks. “The new ghosts?”
You can give her a quick DC 13 Wisdom save here if you want stakes:
-
On Success: she keeps it together, steers the conversation.
You feel the pull, but you don’t tip. You stay standing, stay in your own skin.
You remember Pappy’s warning. The heartbeat. Run up, not down.
You’re already as “down” as it gets.
-
On Fail: lean into the obsession, not violence:
You sink down onto your haunches without quite deciding to. The dry dirt stains your knees.
For a moment, the world contracts to this hollow, this secret, this little knot of rot in the sun.
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.
Give her one small act:
- Does she tell the friend about the field?
- Promise to bring them “a piece of Korrin” next time?
- Draw the Convergence Engine in the dirt and then scuff it out?
Finish light(-ish):
[!quote] Narration 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.
The presence fades with the heat.
“Don’t stay away so long next time,” it whispers, dusty and fond and wrong. “I get lonely.”
You climb back up the bank.
Behind you, in the hollow, nothing moves.
But you can’t shake the feeling that when the Root reaches for you, it knows this place now too.
It knows where you keep your friends.
Session End – Group Drift & Root Stinger
Walk Home / Split Screen
[!quote] Narration The day doesn’t end all at once. It frays.
Ben and Joe peel away from the Circle, streetlights flicking on overhead as the sedan’s taillights disappear down the road.
Soren leaves the riverbed behind and cuts through side streets toward a house that never seems quite happy to see her.
Give each player a quick, focused beat as they walk / ride home.
Ben – Bad Deal, Good View
[!quote] Narration Ben – your mom’s SUV is a dark rectangle waiting at the end of the block, expensive paint catching the last bit of sun.
Every step you take toward it, Pip’s “Madera Canyon” line crawls up your spine.
Optionally call for a DC 12 Wisdom or Insight:
- On Success: he clocks how close he is to being useful vs being a target.
- On Fail: just anxiety, no clarity.
Let Joe poke him here if you want a last little RP exchange:
- “You really gonna work for that guy?”
- “Dude, you heard him.”
Button:
[!quote] Narration Your mom waves from the driver’s seat, all smiles and soft music. Inside the car, the air smells like leather and vanilla.
Outside, the Circle sign flickers. For half a second, it glitches – the O’s stutter into a jagged ring of purple before snapping back.
Joe – Legacy
[!quote] Narration Joe – by the time you get home, your pockets are full of handouts and your head is full of someone else’s war.
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.
The action figure in your pocket is heavy.
Let him decide:
- Does he pull Pappy out and stare at him?
- Chuck him in a drawer?
- Go straight to the backyard to hit the tackling dummy until his knuckles hurt?
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.
Soren – Home Front
[!quote] Narration 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.
There’s laughter from the kitchen. Your parents. Elise. Plates clink. Someone mentions “first impressions” and “scholarship committee” and “Elise’s potential.”
Your name doesn’t come up.
If the player wants to go in and mix it up, let them. If not:
[!quote] Narration You slip past the doorway noise and retreat to your room.
The jar of fingernails on your shelf hasn’t moved. Your diary is right where you left it.
For the first time today, the house hum drowns out the Root’s heartbeat.
It doesn’t feel better. Just… different.
Button – The Root Watches
[!quote] Stinger Somewhere far below Avalon, beneath the Mageball field and the Circle and the quiet middle-class houses, the Root groans.
Where B2 used to be, raw magic flows through fresh stone, forced into a new path. Runes blink in the dark like irritated eyes.
On a maintenance relay buried in a forgotten junction box, glyphs flicker to life one by one:
[SIGNAL RESTORED]
[ECHO PATTERN: KORRIN]
[LOCAL ANCHORS: SILVERSONG–MULKERBERG–FOOTBALL]
[FLAG: POINTS OF INTEREST]For a heartbeat, the glyphs glitch – characters stuttering, rearranging themselves into something that almost spells a name you don’t quite see.
Then the lights go out. The hum continues.
Above, three teenagers try very hard to have a normal evening.
SESSION 6 END