T20 Traveller - The Kursis Charter (complete Aug 8th 2005)
- Thread starter Morte
- Start date
Morte
Explorer
... continued ...
The explosion was at floor height, in a corner, not quite under one of the infirmary cots, at the end of the row. It lifted the nearest patient half a meter, spraying blood and fur around the room, and dumped him on the floor. Splinters from the disintegrating cot joined the wave of concussion and improvised shrapnel as it spread. The second patient took shrapnel and splinter wounds that bled him to the point of heart failure in thirty seconds. The third was lucky, he only got a few minor cuts to add to his existing bullet wound. The fourth was not so lucky, a broken gear wheel hit his neck edge on. Luan, standing by the fifth cot, took wounds to her calves and feet. Her left Achilles tendon was neatly severed, but no major blood vessels went with it. She crumpled, wounded and stunned, and folded up on the dirt floor. By the time Sir David reached the cellar, leaping the last few steps and sprinting through the cloud of fine mud, she was bleeding from both ears.
…
Upstairs Fish heard the explosion from the cellar and swallowed hard. Great. Way to go. Just what they needed, a friendly fire incident with bombs. He picked up his next shrapnel canister and took a long look at the fuse; then he lit it and held on, biting his lip, before a final compulsive throw.
He got a textbook airburst over the farmyard, about 4 meters off the ground. The carnage was terrible. The yard went quiet for a moment, before the survivors gave a few faltering shouts and started to drift away.
…
In the cellar Sir David slowed to a halt, jaw hanging, eyes wild, and stared around. He began to sink to his knees, then staggered forward as he saw Luan. The world narrowed to a tunnel, darkening at the edges and muted as if underwater, as he lifted Luan’s head and stared at her unblinking eyes. Then he grabbed at her wrist to feel for a pulse. He found one, and the world started to come back together.
He set to work, with a high-tech medkit that he’d kept out of the hospital supplies.
…
Things went mostly quiet for a few hours, with some sniping back and forth. Luan was concussed, lame, deaf in both ears, and mostly unconscious. Silea and Fish had small wounds from splinters. Sir David owed his flak vest at least one life. A third of the defenders were dead along with a phenomenal number of the raiders.
Maelcum counted over a hundred Carval dead, and wondered if they would fade away or get it together for a last assault. If they did what they should have done in the first place – set fire to the farm buildings after dark – he didn’t see a way out of that. Best to forestall it then. He went to see Fish about an improvised flash hider for his rifle.
…
The last parley was about an hour before sunset. It was a different nomad who came, a woman and older, and Sir David thought this one might be a figure of authority. She wanted to talk to “the outdider” alone. Sarragh left them to it, with a scowl.
“You,” she snapped, “you do the impossible. With all this… this fortification the mud-crawlers fight like a hundred riders. But we know how this will end, both of us. We will burn the farm, you will all die in the flames or be cut down outside, but it will cost us many riders to do this because you are here. You will have some plan, I know it. So go. Take the other outsiders, if yet they live, put them in a cart, get out of here. Leave the mud-crawlers to us. You do not need to burn with them. Well?”
Sir David gave her a level stare, leaned forward to spit on the ground, and spun on his heel. The woman shrieked and rode off.
…
A few minutes after sunset Maelcum switched on his chameleon smock and oozed out of the farmhouse. The defenders lost sight of him before he cleared the perimeter. The besieging Carval never saw him at all, they just saw burning tents and panicked horses as he went to work on their encampments. He shot a couple of obvious leaders first, then wounded some horses to set them screaming and panic the rest. Twice wily veterans got a few men together and came looking for the sound of his rifle, which the confusion and the pre-arranged decoy fire from the farmstead could not entirely hide. Twice he shot those hunters as they peered through the fading light. The Carval were seasoned fighters but they knew nothing of adaptive chameleon smocks or II/IR optical gunsights, and serial headshots coming form nowhere disturbed them profoundly. Maelcum shot nine men with thirteen rounds, working to build a panic since that was the only way he might conceivably attack two hundred troops without calling in artillery. A trickle of nomads did begin to ride off into the night, but most still worked to bring the camp back under control.
They didn’t finally break until he took a chance and crept into a gap in the crowd to blow their powder store.
…
In the morning a grav APC completed de-orbit from Warne highport to disgorge a squad of mercs in combat armour. They fanned out, gauss rifles ready, deploying for a sweep-and-clear on the farmstead. A quick exchange of shouts persuaded them that it hadn’t fallen after all, and they didn’t need to retake it from the Carval. Jorjiak Miilaki, the Vargr landowner who’d hired the Avaricious in the first place, disembarked soon after. Even the humans present could read his horrified wonder.
…
Back on the highport that evening, the Avaricious took stock. Luan was in an autodoc at the residence of residence of Baron Marie Iskuulii having her eardrums and tendon regenerated under the supervision of a Marine medic; Sir David had pulled rank (noble and paramilitary) to get her in. They were all invited to dine with the Baron on the following evening cycle.
Jorjiak paid their fee and bonus. He wanted to give more, but all his liquid cash (some from freshly liquidated assets) had gone to paying the mercenary unit to moonlight from their day jobs on the orbital. So he gave them a validated letter that entitled them to guarantee loans of up to Cr300,000 against his lands. Then he went off to procure barbed wire.
The Carval were gone, headed into the wilderness.
The farmers were still there.
The explosion was at floor height, in a corner, not quite under one of the infirmary cots, at the end of the row. It lifted the nearest patient half a meter, spraying blood and fur around the room, and dumped him on the floor. Splinters from the disintegrating cot joined the wave of concussion and improvised shrapnel as it spread. The second patient took shrapnel and splinter wounds that bled him to the point of heart failure in thirty seconds. The third was lucky, he only got a few minor cuts to add to his existing bullet wound. The fourth was not so lucky, a broken gear wheel hit his neck edge on. Luan, standing by the fifth cot, took wounds to her calves and feet. Her left Achilles tendon was neatly severed, but no major blood vessels went with it. She crumpled, wounded and stunned, and folded up on the dirt floor. By the time Sir David reached the cellar, leaping the last few steps and sprinting through the cloud of fine mud, she was bleeding from both ears.
…
Upstairs Fish heard the explosion from the cellar and swallowed hard. Great. Way to go. Just what they needed, a friendly fire incident with bombs. He picked up his next shrapnel canister and took a long look at the fuse; then he lit it and held on, biting his lip, before a final compulsive throw.
He got a textbook airburst over the farmyard, about 4 meters off the ground. The carnage was terrible. The yard went quiet for a moment, before the survivors gave a few faltering shouts and started to drift away.
…
In the cellar Sir David slowed to a halt, jaw hanging, eyes wild, and stared around. He began to sink to his knees, then staggered forward as he saw Luan. The world narrowed to a tunnel, darkening at the edges and muted as if underwater, as he lifted Luan’s head and stared at her unblinking eyes. Then he grabbed at her wrist to feel for a pulse. He found one, and the world started to come back together.
He set to work, with a high-tech medkit that he’d kept out of the hospital supplies.
…
Things went mostly quiet for a few hours, with some sniping back and forth. Luan was concussed, lame, deaf in both ears, and mostly unconscious. Silea and Fish had small wounds from splinters. Sir David owed his flak vest at least one life. A third of the defenders were dead along with a phenomenal number of the raiders.
Maelcum counted over a hundred Carval dead, and wondered if they would fade away or get it together for a last assault. If they did what they should have done in the first place – set fire to the farm buildings after dark – he didn’t see a way out of that. Best to forestall it then. He went to see Fish about an improvised flash hider for his rifle.
…
The last parley was about an hour before sunset. It was a different nomad who came, a woman and older, and Sir David thought this one might be a figure of authority. She wanted to talk to “the outdider” alone. Sarragh left them to it, with a scowl.
“You,” she snapped, “you do the impossible. With all this… this fortification the mud-crawlers fight like a hundred riders. But we know how this will end, both of us. We will burn the farm, you will all die in the flames or be cut down outside, but it will cost us many riders to do this because you are here. You will have some plan, I know it. So go. Take the other outsiders, if yet they live, put them in a cart, get out of here. Leave the mud-crawlers to us. You do not need to burn with them. Well?”
Sir David gave her a level stare, leaned forward to spit on the ground, and spun on his heel. The woman shrieked and rode off.
…
A few minutes after sunset Maelcum switched on his chameleon smock and oozed out of the farmhouse. The defenders lost sight of him before he cleared the perimeter. The besieging Carval never saw him at all, they just saw burning tents and panicked horses as he went to work on their encampments. He shot a couple of obvious leaders first, then wounded some horses to set them screaming and panic the rest. Twice wily veterans got a few men together and came looking for the sound of his rifle, which the confusion and the pre-arranged decoy fire from the farmstead could not entirely hide. Twice he shot those hunters as they peered through the fading light. The Carval were seasoned fighters but they knew nothing of adaptive chameleon smocks or II/IR optical gunsights, and serial headshots coming form nowhere disturbed them profoundly. Maelcum shot nine men with thirteen rounds, working to build a panic since that was the only way he might conceivably attack two hundred troops without calling in artillery. A trickle of nomads did begin to ride off into the night, but most still worked to bring the camp back under control.
They didn’t finally break until he took a chance and crept into a gap in the crowd to blow their powder store.
…
In the morning a grav APC completed de-orbit from Warne highport to disgorge a squad of mercs in combat armour. They fanned out, gauss rifles ready, deploying for a sweep-and-clear on the farmstead. A quick exchange of shouts persuaded them that it hadn’t fallen after all, and they didn’t need to retake it from the Carval. Jorjiak Miilaki, the Vargr landowner who’d hired the Avaricious in the first place, disembarked soon after. Even the humans present could read his horrified wonder.
…
Back on the highport that evening, the Avaricious took stock. Luan was in an autodoc at the residence of residence of Baron Marie Iskuulii having her eardrums and tendon regenerated under the supervision of a Marine medic; Sir David had pulled rank (noble and paramilitary) to get her in. They were all invited to dine with the Baron on the following evening cycle.
Jorjiak paid their fee and bonus. He wanted to give more, but all his liquid cash (some from freshly liquidated assets) had gone to paying the mercenary unit to moonlight from their day jobs on the orbital. So he gave them a validated letter that entitled them to guarantee loans of up to Cr300,000 against his lands. Then he went off to procure barbed wire.
The Carval were gone, headed into the wilderness.
The farmers were still there.
Last edited:
Morte
Explorer
Man, writing is easy. You just stare at the screen until blood drips from your eyes. That big battle scene just didn't want to come. Maybe I'll speed up a bit, now it's done.
Maelcum levelled to 8 after that and somehow gained +3 to hit -- 1 for DEX going 17 to 18, 1 for BAB, and 1 for his Martial Training feat (+1 to hit every 4 levels) ticking up a notch. Freaky.
Next up, playing with trains.
Maelcum levelled to 8 after that and somehow gained +3 to hit -- 1 for DEX going 17 to 18, 1 for BAB, and 1 for his Martial Training feat (+1 to hit every 4 levels) ticking up a notch. Freaky.
Next up, playing with trains.
Great stuff as always, Morte. The side quest to the wild west was fun, but I'm looking forward to some spacey stuff again.
Wow, I gotta get me some of that chameleon stuff - what kind of hide benefits are on that thing? Or is that Maelcum was already a ninja-in-training and just has the high enough technology to make it look like magic?
Wow, I gotta get me some of that chameleon stuff - what kind of hide benefits are on that thing? Or is that Maelcum was already a ninja-in-training and just has the high enough technology to make it look like magic?
Thanks for the Story Hour "fix", I have been really feeling the craving since your last update. Skills in Hide/Move Silently, Dex bonus and Chameleon bonus stacked against Vargr racial spot bonus, no Wis bonus (I would guess) and Spot ranks....and we see who ownes the night.
Morte
Explorer
TDRandall said:
That should be along in due course.
One of my very favourite things about Traveller is the way you can go straight from TL0 planets where they think you're a god because you've got an electric torch to TL15 contragrav-cities floating in the sky, and all things in between. And there are always new challenges and new stories. It's a wonderful setting for campaign gaming.
"This technology can be applied to any vac suit, combat environment suit, Combat Armor, or Battle Dress. It is designed to mimic the color, temperature, and shading of the wearer’s current physical environment, helping to render them difficult to track by both the naked eye and IR systems. First available at TL12, a more advanced version becomes available at TL14."
I saw no particular reason not to allow a chameleon smock -- Maelcum could have had it on his armour anyway. The book only gives it an AC bonus of +2 at Tl12 (cost Cr1000) and +4 at TL14 (Cr5000), but I figured it surely had to have a Hide bonus so I set it to +5 and +10 respectively.
[In my current T20 house rules armour gives damage reduction but no AC vs firearms, except Chameleon which gives AC but no damage reduction. I also raised base AC from 10 to 14, because otherwise there's not enough advantage in being a good shot.]
Maelcum was reasonably stealthy with Hide and Move Silently at 9, and he had the smock for Hide +5, and it was getting dark, and he'd arranged a noisy decoy. The Carval were all human, so Vargr ears and noses were all inside the farmstead siding with the PCs. So long as he kept his distance and moved cautiously (take 10) he wa almost invisible, and only had to get behind cover to lose anyone who spotted him. It was only when he fired, or steeled himself to move in and blow the powder store, that it got risky.
I cut the PCs a few favours on that battle, and had the Carval miss a couple of tricks, basically because I changed the script on the fly. In the published adventure the star mercs turn up earlier and rescue everybody (combat armour and Gauss rifles are all-powerful). But the party did so well preparing with their trenches and interlocking fields of fire and nail bombs etc that I thought they deserved to win on their own without being upstaged. I'd have liked to just drop the numbers on each side, but unfortunately I didn't decide this until after I'd said "several hundred nomads" out loud.
RainOfSteel
Explorer
Morte,
I've been reading this SH, on and off, since I saw you mention it over on CotI about a year ago.
Tonight, I decided to finally read on and get through to the end.
The end.
What end?
Help! There's no ending!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!
I've been reading this SH, on and off, since I saw you mention it over on CotI about a year ago.
Tonight, I decided to finally read on and get through to the end.
The end.
What end?
Help! There's no ending!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Morte
Explorer
Act V: Kerin's Tyr - Railroad
Date: 196-993 Imperial.
Location: Kerin’s Tyr (0620), Confederation of City-States, Unity Downport.
“You need the civil records office, sir. They’re responsible for archiving government information.”
…
“No, that’s not us I’m afraid. The starport keeps that. I think it’s the Office of the Starport Manager.”
…
“Oh yes, we collate those but we pass them on to the Bureau of External affairs with one of their tag numbers. You’d have to ask them what they do with them.”
…
“I’m afraid that information is confidential, sir. If we told people how we route incoming parcels, they could use it to send letter bombs. I’m sure you understand.”
Sir David: Liaison-15 + 4 (Contact Specialist) + 2 (Negotiator) + 2 (Trustworthy) + 9 (roll) = 32
“Well, I suppose it’s alright in this case. They’re kept on the parliament train sir, with all the other state documents and regalia and so on. It’s on its way to Katter at the moment, to mediate on a land dispute. You can get hold of them there, if you want to go after them.”
Fish was the first to say “Train?”
…
No air/rafts for hire. No aircraft going to Katter. No roads worthy of the name. “Well,” said Silea, “I wonder what the freshers are like on these trains.”
…
The train was rather splendid. It thundered mightily along the rails, until you got used to it and ignored the noise and shaking. Everything in first class was polished brass or waxed wood, set off by crystal glasses and starched linen. The freshers were tolerable. The Avaricious had a pretty good time, all told. There was good food, and lots of alcohol, and the entertainment could not be faulted.
The fun started when Sir David and Luan turned up to breakfast together, grinning and laughing and leaning on each other’s shoulder. Silea raised an eyebrow at Maelcum, and nodded across the table. He pursed his lips. Fish did a double take. Sir David and Luan managed to avoid kissing each other for all of fifteen seconds, then did so and turned great big grins on the rest of the crew.
“Here we go” said Maelcum.
“About time” said Silea.
“So are you two shagging?” asked Fish, putting on his best bewildered voice.
The table collapsed into laughter. Laughter is pretty incapacitating when you’re wearing a filter mask to keep the local pollens out.
…
On the second morning the train hauled itself through a mountain pass and headed down through forests along the rails that would eventually reach Katter. Everybody except Sir David and Luan noticed a certain sobriety in the air. A few of the other passengers in the first class breakfast car had decided to wear guns today. The waiters bustled a bit more and smiled a bit less.
Fish spoke to a mining engineer they’d befriended the previous evening. “Is there trouble in this part of the world? Everybody seems nervous.”
“Yep. The farmers are jumpy over a mining proposal. We want to build an open cast mine, and they seem to think we’re going to dig up the whole region instead of a square kilometre of it. Three or four farmers will get paid way over the odds for their land, a few hundred others will get free roads and so on, and they’re treating us like an invading army. Yokels. I think there’ve been demonstrations, with rocks thrown and so on.”
…
They reached Katter and walked over to the parliament train without trouble. After a few blank looks, the records pickup was smooth.
On the way back, an angry looking crowd of farmers with shotguns and (Fish later swore) pitchforks spotted their government cases and decided that they were Obviously The Wrong Sort. Various Yelling and Shaking of Fists ensued, followed by Ominous Advancing, but Maelcum hustled the Avaricious down an alley and dropped a smoke grenade in their wake. That was the end of it.
Soon they were back on a passenger train, with another two day ride ahead of them. Maelcum found it a bit dull, sitting in the club car on his own all day.
Date: 196-993 Imperial.
Location: Kerin’s Tyr (0620), Confederation of City-States, Unity Downport.
“You need the civil records office, sir. They’re responsible for archiving government information.”
…
“No, that’s not us I’m afraid. The starport keeps that. I think it’s the Office of the Starport Manager.”
…
“Oh yes, we collate those but we pass them on to the Bureau of External affairs with one of their tag numbers. You’d have to ask them what they do with them.”
…
“I’m afraid that information is confidential, sir. If we told people how we route incoming parcels, they could use it to send letter bombs. I’m sure you understand.”
Sir David: Liaison-15 + 4 (Contact Specialist) + 2 (Negotiator) + 2 (Trustworthy) + 9 (roll) = 32
“Well, I suppose it’s alright in this case. They’re kept on the parliament train sir, with all the other state documents and regalia and so on. It’s on its way to Katter at the moment, to mediate on a land dispute. You can get hold of them there, if you want to go after them.”
Fish was the first to say “Train?”
…
No air/rafts for hire. No aircraft going to Katter. No roads worthy of the name. “Well,” said Silea, “I wonder what the freshers are like on these trains.”
…
The train was rather splendid. It thundered mightily along the rails, until you got used to it and ignored the noise and shaking. Everything in first class was polished brass or waxed wood, set off by crystal glasses and starched linen. The freshers were tolerable. The Avaricious had a pretty good time, all told. There was good food, and lots of alcohol, and the entertainment could not be faulted.
The fun started when Sir David and Luan turned up to breakfast together, grinning and laughing and leaning on each other’s shoulder. Silea raised an eyebrow at Maelcum, and nodded across the table. He pursed his lips. Fish did a double take. Sir David and Luan managed to avoid kissing each other for all of fifteen seconds, then did so and turned great big grins on the rest of the crew.
“Here we go” said Maelcum.
“About time” said Silea.
“So are you two shagging?” asked Fish, putting on his best bewildered voice.
The table collapsed into laughter. Laughter is pretty incapacitating when you’re wearing a filter mask to keep the local pollens out.
…
On the second morning the train hauled itself through a mountain pass and headed down through forests along the rails that would eventually reach Katter. Everybody except Sir David and Luan noticed a certain sobriety in the air. A few of the other passengers in the first class breakfast car had decided to wear guns today. The waiters bustled a bit more and smiled a bit less.
Fish spoke to a mining engineer they’d befriended the previous evening. “Is there trouble in this part of the world? Everybody seems nervous.”
“Yep. The farmers are jumpy over a mining proposal. We want to build an open cast mine, and they seem to think we’re going to dig up the whole region instead of a square kilometre of it. Three or four farmers will get paid way over the odds for their land, a few hundred others will get free roads and so on, and they’re treating us like an invading army. Yokels. I think there’ve been demonstrations, with rocks thrown and so on.”
…
They reached Katter and walked over to the parliament train without trouble. After a few blank looks, the records pickup was smooth.
On the way back, an angry looking crowd of farmers with shotguns and (Fish later swore) pitchforks spotted their government cases and decided that they were Obviously The Wrong Sort. Various Yelling and Shaking of Fists ensued, followed by Ominous Advancing, but Maelcum hustled the Avaricious down an alley and dropped a smoke grenade in their wake. That was the end of it.
Soon they were back on a passenger train, with another two day ride ahead of them. Maelcum found it a bit dull, sitting in the club car on his own all day.
Morte
Explorer
Sorry this has taken so long after I promised to speed up. I had a chest infection, then a campaign restart after a TPK, then another campaign restart with a different system after a semi-TPK, then a two week toothache. I'm now looking forward to root canal surgery on Monday.
It's all go, this SH writing...
It's all go, this SH writing...
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