Clockwork: Dominion: Witch Hunt

From DoctorCthulhupunk

WRITE UP: Gen Con 2016 August 4: 2pm: Clockwork: Dominion: Witch Hunt

  • GM: Zeke
  • ???: Edhern: Magistrate Edward Pal (I think): Beastfolk with he had fur over most of his body and bat ears. He had been born in India, and I think abandoned, though my notes aren't clear whether his British parent or his Indian parent had done the abandoning.
  • Me: Joanna Newman
  • ???: Canon Benedict: a nephilim with grayish blue skin speckled with small black birdlike eyes. Mage, left home on good terms.
  • ???: Henry Sellers: Battle hardened, sniper, seen too much
  • ???: Hawthorn Star: My notes say he was a fighter, a gruff witchfinder, and perhaps emotionally damaged by wars in India. I'm not entirely sure how accurate this was. What I recall was that his player, a black man, showed us how to play someone who was full of prejudice and bigotry without disrupting a game. Hawthorn took command of the group, but always listened to what everyone had to say and often deferred to others. He was perhaps the nicest *sshole in the Clockwork: Dominion world, never mean or impolite to his fellow PCs, but always clearly condescending in ways that, appropriately for Clockwork: Dominion, were tricky to call him on, especially as the PCs were working to avert a Bad Thing and knew that step one was to find out what that Bad Thing might be.
  • ???: Isabella Martinez: bright green hair, elven shaped ears, blue skin. "She is a colorful girl, in more ways, I think, than one."

The GM told us a fair amount about the Clockwork: Dominion world, how it was 1896 and the unique items that had been around in our world were made ubiquitous. A couple of difference engines? Maybe half a dozen automatons? Make that thousands! And, if I understand my notes correctly, zeppelins were in existence 10-15 years earlier than in our world, although they had been designed by then.

Metaphysically, the universe was the Clockwork, but it was winding down, which allowed the Pontus to rise. The Pontus, as I understand it, is a sort of sentient chaos force, and in areas where it's strong, there are phenomena such as rains of fish and other, more menacing things.

There were two main religious institutions:

The Magisterium (aka See of Rome): Does not believe in Pontus, but rather that the world was created ex nihilo. (As near as I can tell, the Magisterium is incorrect.)

See of Canterbury: 1538, Henry VIII. _State_ Document. Believes they must _do_ something about Pontus. It has 2 orders of witchfinders. Canons: Under the Archbishop of Canterbury Star: Under the Crown

The Canons consider it their job to check the Star, while the Star consider themselves babysitters of the Canons. Canons and Mystics, if I read my notes correctly, are the only ones who can legally practice magic outside of the church, which is viewed as hypocritcal by many magicians.

Rituals are _long_. Magic is not illegal, at least in England, but if one does something illegal with it, that's a different matter. My notes say, "hey, you burn heretics".

There are scientists, of course. They believe in magic. It clearly exists. But, from most scientists' point of view, the question is: Why would one do magic? It takes a long time, and it's not reliable.

Magicians: Magic can _do_ things science can't.

Scientists: Not _yet_...

The PCs were a group of witchfinders brought together to investigate. It wasn't necessary to be pureblood human to be a witchfinder. The changeling, beastfolk, and nephilim were totally eligible, although the Clockwork was opposed to nephilim. I forget the details, but I think it boiled down to the nephilim not being part of the Clockwork, and perhaps not having a soul.

Joanna Newman, a mystic, wanted to join the Canons, but they only accepted men. The Stars were quite willing, and indeed eager, to accept her as a member.

This was Magistrate Edward's first job, his chance to make a place for himself, despite being beastfolk.

GM: Strangely, the English probably care more that you're half-Indian.

He read us the list of folks the English were prejudiced against, saying that it was an ordered list. The Irish were at the top. (I don't recall whether this was a list from the scenario or from the rulebook. It was not from a historical source, as it listed the nephilim and beastfolk, and likely fae and changelings as well.)

Normally, the witchfinders don't touch accusations of witchcraft; that's for the local magistrates to deal with. However, this was an unusual situation because the person accused of witchcraft was a nun. The Dissolution of the Monasteries happened more or less as in our world, and they were only reinstated about 50 years ago. Many folks were suspicious and afraid of them.

Isabella Martinez was the changeling daughter of a nobleman, and she had fled home and become a nun to be self supportive. My notes say:

guest mistress at convent point of contact: reported theodnt?

I'm not sure if this means that she was the guest of the woman in charge of the convent or if it means that she had been staying at the convent for some time before the other PCs arrived. But she was the ideal PC liaison to the convent.

The system is basic skill + stat + randomizer, the randomizer being a deck of cards with values from -5 to +5 plus DOOM (the worst) and FATE (the best). There are some bells and whistles as well, which include gaining Corruption for doing "something terrible", using Purpose (in service of the Clockwork) or Ether (in rebellion to it) for benefits, the words on the cards sometimes coming into play, and so on, but that's the basic core. It's used for physical and social conflicts.

Once we'd absorbed that, the GM gave us a couple more details about the situation.

  • The magistrate was the only one with the authority to make judgments -- unless the witchfinders declared it was _their_ turf.
  • There were currently three monasteries in the entire English Church. The accused nun was from one of them, a convent. Sir Alexander (an authority in the town? The Magistrate?) presumably had her in custody.
  • I think the monastery consisted of a set of buildings no one saw to, but I'm not sure I understand my notes on this point.
  • There had been two Pontus events in this town in the last three weeks.
    • Three weeks ago, it rained crickets for several hours.
    • The previous week, a pillar of fire descended on Dougherty farm, burning it to the ground.

The nun was being held in the basement of the pub. Why there? It had doors that locked, I think. My notes also mention a stable and a general store. I think the pub doubled as the inn.

And the character banter that wasn't ever quite bickering began.

Magistrate: Apparently he is going to talk for a while.

Hawthorne: ...

Isabella: Who is he?

Hawthorne: I am Hawthorne -- I am handling this investigation.

Magistrate: My apologies -- he is in charge of this mess.

Hawthorne: I am overseeing him -- and overseeing this investigation.

Isabella: I see.

I think the head of the convent was Mother Seraphina, and the nun accused of witchcraft was Sister Julian.

Canon Benedict saw a pigeon acting oddly, sitting on the roof and staring at the group. But there was about four or five feet of roof that the pigeon just wouldn't go onto. This was near the stables, and eventually, the pigeon flew off. I think a girl who worked at the pub, Annalie, was there as well.

Benedict: So -- these stables over there...

Isabella: Newly restored.

Benedict: Do you do anything other than keep horses here?

Isabella: No. That is the purpose of a stable.

Then, somehow, banter started between Hawthorne and Edward about the elephants of India.

Edward: We're actually blessed with many beasts of burden, some of which are horses.

Hawthorne: You call elephants horses?

Edward: No, we call them horses.

And this became a running joke.

Annalie: Am I to take your horse, sir?

Her face was a little too long to be human, and her ears, I think, moved by themselves, and may or may not have been pointed. Benedict spore to her about Sister Julian.

Benedict: I don't want to bring any harm to anyone. I know what it is to be judged for being different.

Annalie: She needed some things, so I brought them to her. She asked for some rope. She started making things. When she started making a noose, that's when I got my dad.

Hawthorne (about Benedict): But his sight is unappealing to me.

Benedict (about half joking, I think?): But at least I'm British.

Hawthorne, perhaps accompanied by others, went to the convent.

Hawthorne: Mother Seraphina, the Pontus rises.

I think the GM noted that this was the equivalent of saying that the End Days were upon us, and that Hawthorne's player figured that this would still be something Hawthorne would say, intending it as a pleasant greeting, and I certainly do not disagree. The Pontus rises. The World Turns. How are you today?

And we continued to banter about minutiae.

Joanna: How are the stables?

Benedict: They're stables.

Hawthorne: Are they well situated with hay?

GM: Oh ghod, it's gonna be one of those groups.

All too true. We were very much one of those groups.

Hawthorne: Forgive my friend, Magistrate. He was not aware of All of our customs.

I'm not sure to what that referred.

Someone: Mr. Smith owns building.

Someone else, possibly Hawthorne: Good line of questioning.

Apparently, local animals had been acting oddly.

Someone: What kind of animals?

Edward: Possibly a camel or an elephant?

Someone (I forget who and about whom): As much as he's stepping over his bounds, he's right on this.

Hawthorne (Very Encouragingly): That is a really good idea.

Edward: Thank you _so_ much. That means _so_ much coming from you.

And more animal quips.

Probably Edward: It's because I ride elephants. It jars the brain.

My notes say something about 8 nuns, probably that being the number of nuns at the convent?

Someone, possibly Hawthorne's player: In England, we believe in bathing every day.

Everyone Else at the Table: In England?

Someone, possibly Hawthorne's player: This is REVISED England, and in THIS England, we bathe every day.

And more about animals, specifically the rain of crickets:

Edward: An hour's worth or crickets in the streets.

Sir Alexander: That was very loud.

Edward: Don't I know it. (because of the highly sensitive ears)

And at one point, Henry decided to restrain our Fearless Leader, who, as I recall, took this with good (if condescending) grace.

Henry: Hawthorne, that's enough. Let's move on.

Sir Alexander's Son (I think? Could have been the pubkeeper's son): How did it go?

Isabella: It went.

Henry: No one's dead. Move on.

Isabella: That's true.

Someone (to Sister Julian): Where did you get that dress?

Son: It's my sister's. (Her name was Elizabeth.)

Benedict: If it would make her feel safer, I could bless it.

Joanna and Isabella: Couldn't hurt.

As near as we could tell at this point, Sister Julian was afraid, and not of the witchfinders, but of being some kind of channel of dark power.

Henry: Let's move on.

Hawthorne: Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Henry: It depends. What are you thinking?

And more animal quips:

Hawthorne: I will prepare with the Magistrate -- I think we should go immediately.

Edward: Absolutely.

Hawthorne: But not on an elephant.

Edward: Certainly not. There are none around.

Benedict warned Joanna that Sister Julian might be suicidal. Joanna and Hawthorne stayed with Sister Julian and Mother Seraphina, at the pub, I think, while Edward, Isabella, Henry, and I think Benedict went to the convent.

Edward: Well, that's clearly where we need to go.

Someone (possibly Hawthorne, but possibly not): You know, you should hang out with yourself more often -- I'm starting to really warm to you, Henry.

Exactly what the group at the convent was supposed to do was not entirely clear to them.

Edward: I have no idea what we're looking for other than Pontusy Things.

Benedict: I'll look as well, Magistrate.

Henry: Please do.

Benedict found evidence of an irreparable Pontus Event, something that had been caused willfully, intentionally. Isabella and Edward found signs where places were disturbed, and Henry spotted footprints. I'm not sure if these were all in the same places on the convent grounds or all in different places.

And there was some evidence of hounds as well.

Edward: I bet I know where there are hounds.

GM: Sir Alexander has hounds.

Edward: Of course he has hounds.

I think the group found signs of a camp on the convent grounds, and of a hole in the floor of one of the unused buildings, recently covered up. The hole was basement-sized, and maybe 9 or 10 feet deep. I think it was almost four centuries old, or at any rate, my notes say something about 380 years and destruction.

Edward: Well, if there's a basement, clearly there's stairs

Benedict: No!

The group realized that the mounds they saw in a corner of the basement-sized hole were piles of desiccated bodies. There were lots of holes in these bodies, symmetrical. They realized that these bodes were nephilim corpses. The holes _used_ to be eyes.

Now, nephilim have no place in the Clockwork, it's true. However, witchfinders _don't_ kill Nephilim because doing so creates demons.

Isabella: Oh that's bad.

Benedict: That's very bad.

Henry found a journal that was falling apart and written in Latin. Anyone with Refinement 3 knew French and Latin, and anyone with Mysteries 3 knew Latin.

This was a Magisterium journal. The Magisterium was under the auspices of the church, and the Inquisition had been under its authority -- more than three centuries ago. The journal described research into how banes worked. In the course of such research, the Inquisition had killed many nephilim.

That is, the bodies were killed. The nephilim were bound to a cup in a ritual that lasted a year and a day. It would be recast on the Feast of St. Michael, 29 September. Once that ritual failed, it would be as if it had never happened, and the spirits / souls / essence / what you will of the nephilim would be free. There were 30 cups and approximately 30 corpses.

Someone: Maybe someone _was_ keeping up the binding.

There could be up to 30 demons. The convent group thought about this.

Henry: I don't know if I have enough shot for that.

Isabella: Nice. That's nice.

Someone (probably either Edward or Benedict): That's good to know.

I think at this point the GM said we'd discovered this faster than the other 2 groups he'd run the scenario for, and that one of the other groups had no intention of going down into the dark hole in the ground.

Mind, I think when they regrouped and told the others what had happened, Hawthorne thought they should have done more.

Hawthorne: You're adventurers!

Edward:: You know what would have helped? Elephants!

This broke the tension in a good way, as I recall. The group was weirdly functional -- but it was functional.

Benedict's player asked if the cup were still something -- my notes could say "poisoned" or "possessed". Whatever it was, the GM said no. The candles in the underground room were far newer than 380 years old, and the altar was _not_ covered in dust.

Edward made a joke, saying "The first thirty you don't notice at all", but I no longer recall the context to make this explicable.

Hawthorne, perhaps accompanied by one of the other men, though if so, I forget whom, rode towards Dogherty field to check it out. I think this may have been where one of the recent Pontus odd events had taken place.

It was as if life stopped at the side of the road. All the way to the house, the field was ash all the way to the earth. There were not even any stalks left. This place was about a quarter of a mile from the pub / inn.

All of the fields except for that one had a scarecrow. There were charms hanging from the scarecrows. The scarecrows were basically talismans, folk magic, but not particularly competent folk magic. There had been way more effort put into these than anyone making an efficient rite would make. The talismans were intended as a banning rite against insects, to prevent blight.

Hawthorne ripped off the charms and returned to the inn / pub. His actions caused no obvious change.

Meanwhile, someone, I think Isabella, had been interviewing the nuns.

  • Mother Seraphina had been in charge since the opening of the monastery.
  • Sister Hildegard hated men.
  • Sister Julian had worked in the kitchen and garden, and the other nuns missed her cooking.
  • Sister Rebecca was helpful, but mixed opinion with fact. She was a girl of 14 or 15 and had worked with Sister Julian in the garden.
  • Sister Celine had been bitten by a dog earlier in the day and was in the infirmary with a fever.

Hawthorne spoke to the owner of the inn / pub, a Mr. Smith.

Hawthorne: Smitty, you guard Sister Julian on your life or you will be hung and all your family with you.

Annalie _looked_ at him and collected Sister Julian. I don't think the "look" did anything.

Back at the convent, Isabella asked about the dog, I think. It had been seen moving back toward the town, and had been large for a hound. It was a black dog. Isabella looked at Sister Celine's wound and was nonplussed to see that it was black.

Meanwhile, Henry and Joanna made a startling discovery about Hawthorne.

Henry: You're drunk -- why are you drunk?

Joanna: You're drunk?!

Hawthorne: I'm _meditating_!

It occurs to me as I type this that this is the sort of scene that would be in a movie made from this adventure (hopefully one more coherent than my write up), and might or might not be in an RPG session.

I think Hawthorne talked about the charms and the scarecrows.

Benedict (looking at the charms): Magical trinkets -- superpoorly put together.

I forget who said which of the following lines:

This is supernatural bullshit! Putting something together that just happens to work -- ?keep it? keeping it? [My notes are unclear here] But what does it _do_? It's Magic!

Benedict either mentioned or was told about Sister Celine's Pontus-infected wound.

Someone (I think about the charms): That isn't even illegal! But he _lied_ to us.

I forget who "he" was.

Someone else: Did we ask X? Cuz I don't remember asking X.

["X" was probably something about the charms?]

Someone: We asked if he did something unusual.

Someone else: He probably doesn't think it was anything unusual!

Folks discussed the underground room with its altar, and realized that a demon in someone's body could indeed take an artifact, like a rosary, from an altar.

At this point, the group moved to take action outside, and wound up fighting some demon-possessed animals. The first was the dog that had attacked Sister Celine. The dog tried to make a social attack, growling really loud, but nothing happened. Poor dog-demon.

A stag ran out of the bracken, and rammed its horns into the side of Hawthorne's horse. Hawthorne defended and the horse reared up.

Hawthorne: Should've been an elephant

Benedict attacked the stag. Hawthorne was temporarily being attacked by the dog -- and a boar. Henry went for a snapshot, and possibly spent a point of Ether to get a better result. Edward got between one of the demon-possessed animals and its prey. I think Joanna managed to do some exorcism, but I'm not sure. Ultimately, the group persevered.

Joanna: We are going to be chasing down demons for the next month.

Someone: No, we won't. We're going to the source. This is a distraction.

They tracked the dog's path, finding it led to:

  • Sir Alexander's horse (not an elephant)
  • A couple of abandoned mine shafts at the edge of the field where the monastery was
  • Sir Alexander's house

There were no encounters in the mines.

GM: Because you killed everything.

Somewhere, there was another underground room. I forget exactly where. It had dirt sides and support for a door. It was a cellar room, a bit like the one in the pub. There were papers thrown all over the room, and another journal was located, one far more recent than the first, and in a different hand.

I think the journal had been written by Sir Alexander's son. It seemed to be ritual notes, discussing folk magic.

Benedict: They're using science to study magic.

Then, there was an entry that read simply: "I found a friend."

Someone (could have been any or all of us): That's never good.

Within four days, the handwriting and point of view in the journal had shifted. The last sentence was: "I will find a home for my family."

While I forget many of the details, it was clear that one of the slaughtered and bound nephilim had possessed Sir Alexander's son and was trying to house the rest of them. There were notes on balancing various rites to make a rite that would work to lower the will of about 50 mortals over about 1 mile on the night of the full moon, which naturally happened to be that very night.

The rite required a holy relic that was a gift from one saint to another, like the rosary that had gone missing. It required 6 pints of blood, and I think that the reason Sister Julian had been trying to kill herself was that she'd somehow understood that her blood was particularly potent for some reason. I forget the details. But it was clear that she was the intended victim here, and not guilty of any crime.

And, the journal said, "The final rite must be performed in front of corpses of my family."

So, the group rushed back to those corpses, only to find that the possessed son of Sir Alexander was holding Sister Julian at knifepoint.

Sadly, by now, I needed to move to make it to my evening game, so I don't know how the showdown ended. At least some of the group were not unsympathetic to the plight of the nephilim, but none of them wanted possessed humans or a dead Sister Julian.

I learned that a different group had won a social combat against the nephilim, pointing out that the nephilim was trying to do to innocent humans exactly what had been done to the nephilim's family. The nephilim released Sister Julian and said, "What do I do now?" Everyone in that run agreed that this was where the game had to end.

The next day, I noted that some time could have been saved by putting the main points of background that were essential to the scenario on a handout, preferably as a bullet point list. The folks in the Reliquary Games booth agreed that this was a good idea. However, I should point out that all of the digressions about elephants were entirely our own fault, and had nothing to do with the construction of the scenario.