Good morning! It’s Jonathan here with a STORY RECAP for the recent event, THE CICATRIX. The goal of these Story Recap posts is to help fill in the blanks for those that might have missed an important mod, been at NPC camp, sleeping, or simply were not able to attend the game. These are major points of continuity that might be important next season, and I hope this will help with the FOMO feels, or answer some questions you had about what happened.
We are hard at work on our next season, and we appreciate each and everyone one of you that attended a game during our last season. Our new ST team is working on finishing out our schedule of events for Season 4 and we will have a few more announcements of episode titles, teasers, and more very very soon.
Photo credits in this post are from Harlow Ulmer, Sydney Betzina, and Earlena Soukup.
You can also find our other game recaps from this season here:
So once you’ve been caught up, let’s refresh our memories about the premise behind the event…
The Cicatrix Premise
The morgues in Bravado have stopped working. The dead have not returned for the better part of a month. Small shrines to the missing dot the long roads between settlements and the aberrant population reports that the wails of the dead, so often cacophonous in the psionically demented mind, are silent.
Takheeta Firstborn has been killed, cut low at the penultimate moment of her triumph, and transfigured into a Gravemind Shard; a kind of semi sentient intelligence that occupies a greater portion of the gestalt that is the local “Gravemind” itself. Her death has made way for General Rampart, new leader of the Grave Council, to impart policy. But, in evoking the Cantankerous Matrix to heal the Morgues across the San Saba, instead the Grave Council has metastasized a fatal threat to the Lonestar, and the Infectious Cycle itself. Over the past several weeks, tumorous protrusions have formed like a layer of scar tissue, cutting off the exit for the newly returned from the Grave.
Now, General Rampart has formulated a scheme to re-open the morgues across the Lonestar Wastes, not by punching through the thick layer of cutaneous tissue that has formed like a plug over every morgue the entire municipality over, but instead by treating the aberrance from the inside; by delving into the abyssal depths of the Mortis, through layers of skin and skein, to where the heart of the cancer pulses in darkness and filth.
In the midst of this emerging crisis, the politics of the San Saba Board still looms. The annual Stakeholder’s Meeting is scheduled for May, despite the threat of the broken morgues. During the Meeting, each of the contracted members of the various factions get to weigh in on the upcoming changes to the San Saba Charter, though some chafe against the law and protest the carnival of capitalism. Surrounded by machinations and manipulations, conspiracy and chicanery, wheeling and dealing, politics and persuasion. the leaders of the Board and their many plots stirs something dark beneath the ground.
Deep below New Bravado, and deeper still than the thin layer of biomass where the Gravemind, and The Eightfold Mother supposedly lurk; against resonant and bloodghast, recollection and reaver, the denizens of Bravado will need to combat the lurking memories that have pooled beneath the morgues like so much sump dump, and press upwards towards the surface until the scab breaks, and the biomass and blood may cleanly osmote between reality, and the Grave.
Death, suspended
From the first moments of Friday night, the sense of danger was heightened. If you were to die to the various threats of the wastes, you would be trapped in the Near Death, unable to return to life. A thick cutaneous layer of biomass had formed on every Morgue exit, and created an impenetrable seal that trapped the recently dead within. Any attempts to cut through the mass would be stymied, as the biomass healed the damage as fast as it was inflicted. The effect was more pronounced the closer you got to Bravado.
For nearly a month, the list of missing had been growing, including Felicity Redfield, Boss Wyatt, and several of the local Vados as well. With the rumors of Nemesis on the prowl on the fabled Friday the 13th, the risk of the upcoming weekend was never higher. As the sun set, each of the survivors had to grapple with the upcoming threat of simply existing in Bravado on a trade weekend where you could not die...
One thing was immediately clear — while the immediate threat was more from their own than from the environment, such as the faceless assassins of Murder Inc, or simply other survivors taking advantage of trapping an enemy in the Mortis, the environment was also adapting to the changes. The closing of the morgues had an effect on the various creatures that haunt the wastes.
Zombies were virtually non-existent, as the same effect that sealed the morgues were responsible for stopping the various hordes from emerging from the orifices of the Mortis Amaranthine. However, some reports from Waking talked about the pressure within the Near Death building into explosions from below that still rarely released a small horde into the world. If you saw a zombie, it was almost certainly related to one of these RUPTURES.
Raiders too had become scarce. While Raiders don’t normally get stuck for long in the Grave Mind, as they are outside the cycle of death, they were still effected by the strange trapping effect of the closed morgues. While at first the Raiders were the traditional threat they always were, their numbers dwindled over the weeks since the crisis, but it only served to eliminate the weakest of their kind, and the Raider hunting packs were filled with the meanest, toughest variants as each Raider clan trimmed off the fat and became even more deadly. The risk was now not from more Raider attacks from the faceless and endless hordes of Headhunter Raiders, but rather the elite and deadly Warpath Raiders and Gravehead Raiders.
In direct opposition to the other threats of the wastes, Critters had actually grown MORE dangerous. The ubiquitous MURDER GOAT DEER, a mutated deer-like creature that preyed on zombie flesh were being driven to hunger frenzies after being deprived their normal feeding grounds. However, the Murder Goat Deer are truly omnivorous, and survivor flesh would suffice — they aren’t that picky when they are ravenous. Coupled with the continued pollution in the lake, the Murder Goat Deer had continued their strange mutations, growing larger and more grotesque with the passing day. Each MGD was a terror, driven to hunt and eat survivors instead of their usual prey.
Bracing for the threat, the town set to work on the task of finding a solution to the closed morgues and how to rescue their friends from the Near Death.
help from the grave council
Early in the weekend, Grave Council stakeholders received a letter from General Rampart of the Grave Council. In the letter, he explained the efforts the rest of the group had been working on over the last few weeks, along with research material to guide a plan to resolve the morgue crisis for good. In addition, he promised additional assistance from an unlikely ally to the north - the Sequoia Wastes! The Grave Council had also erected a strange structure at the Cross Roads, a building called a “proto-morgue”.
In the past few weeks, the Grave Council tried several things to fix the morgues, using all manners of tools, machinery, or procedures to access the Morgue. They tried several fixes and experiments in advance, to try to narrow the focus for a fix for the sealed morgue. Mundane efforts like the Pallor Mortis, the Abyssal Stitch procedure, or other ways to normally access the Near Death failed. Psions could not detect people on the other side, and even uses of Necrokinetics were useless to contact the dead. However, the RUPTURES of the undead emerging periodically cued them to a potential solution.
Each time zombies returned, an opening was made in the Mortis Amaranthine so they could “vent” the pressure off the Grave Mind. If you were quick enough, it was possible to catch the opening and keep it from healing. Much like a STENT would be used to insert into a blood vessel to keep it open during a surgery, the Council believed that these wounds could create temporary openings to the Near Death. Rampart described several people being able to be withdrawn from the Mortis, though the process was incredibly taxing on the Graverobber during the procedure. Each time would completely exhaust the person’s effort of Resolve and Mind, so it was not a real solution to the problem.
In addition, it was evident the longer a person was trapped in the Near Death, the more their IMPRINT itself would be combined with the other people within. While the Plague of the Unfinished was truly cured by Takheeta’s failed ritual, this new condition caused the people to emerge fractured and virtually unable to function. Brews and meals would not heal them, their wounds could not be healed, and the madness could not be soothed. It was clear something else would need to be done, but the Ruptures were clearly the key to a fix. If the Grave Council could find a permanent solution to the overhealing effect of the CANTANKEROUS MATRIX, it would likely return the morgues to their normal function prior to the Hiway War.
A seed from the Sequoia Wastes
Rampart’s letter also detailed instructions to meet the Grave Council at the docks of the lake early on Friday for a shipment from the north. Several months back, agents of the CLOSED CASKET COMMISSION, or CCC, were sent down to Bravado to serve as interns to the mighty Grave Council. These groundskeepers and graverobbers had been working for several months, and even had a hand in helping with the MONOLITH last December. From their homeland, a key to the crisis was discovered.
The tiny town of GREENWATER, near the more famous settlement of the VERDIGRIFT GARDENS, held a particular importance to the inhabitants of Bravado. The town of Greenwater was of two worlds, one above the waves, and one below. The Saltwise graverobbers of the town nurtured strange growths of the Mortis Amaranthine, products of the underwater morgue that they used to return the recently deceased. These MORGUE SEEDS could even be used to grow a new morgue. In fact, one had already been used to create the new morgue of Drywater, so it would be trivial to ship one to Bravado to aid in their research.
Using the MORGUE SEED, it would be possible to create a temporary morgue. This proto-morgue could be connected to one of the Grave Ruptures, and it could be possible to keep an opening in the biomass from resealing. It would require talented Graverobbers and medics to perform such a unique procedure, but it could be a way to return the dead back to the world of the living intact. Rampart sent instructions for the process to each of the Trustees of the Grave Council, but it would require their efforts locally to place the seed in fertile ground.
When Captain Nemo and the other nautical pioneers of Bravado went to meet the shipment from the Sequoia, they arrived just in time to aid a ship in distress. A clan of Drowned One raiders had waylaid the shipment and would need to be liberated from their new prize. Luckily, the Vados were able to answer the call and brave Midnight Jellyfish, a few juvenile Leviathans, while fending off the attacks of the submerged Raiders. Pistol shots from crude rifles rang out as the Vados fended off the strange raiders, drawn for some reason to the peculiar cargo. The sharp ring of blade on blade boarding attacks rang out across the still lake as the raiders attacked relentlessly. The attackers seemed intent on rescuing the Morgue Seed from the crew, and it was only the timely intervention of the reinforcements that saved the Seed in time.
With their prize in hand, the ‘Vados brought the Morgue Seed to the site of the Grave Council’s preparations at the Cross Roads, a new synthetic morgue.
the return of Boss Wyatt
One of the first individuals to not return from the Morgue was the leader of the Law Dog Union, the Reclaimer cowboy, Boss Wyatt. During Collection Day, they were poisoned and killed after drinking a tainted beverage, and had not emerged from the Mortis before Takheeta’s ill-destined ritual began. Realizing that the Law Dog was most at risk from imprint decay, they would need to be the first person pulled from the new proto-morgue. Something was wrong, and even a few of Wyatt’s friends were experiencing strange dreams about him struggling in the Near Death. If the reports from Essex were to be believed, it would be a difficult and challenging process to retrieved someone that had died and they would need to focus their will and efforts on the very Imprint of Boss Wyatt.
Under the guidance of Slink and her newly minted Graverobber student Ies, the graveheads and their friends set out to bring back the Law Dog Sheriff. Using radioactive metal formed into crude tools, the ritual would use the natural opponent of Infection to carve into to the cutaneous tissue of biomass before it could seal again. A truth of grave science, radiation is so dangerous to survivors because it breaks down the genetic bonds of the Infection itself. It would be the perfect tool to cut into the healed over growths created by the Cantankerous Matrix. If they could implant the Morgue Seed in the rupture in time, they could create a limited exit from the Mortis Amaranthine for Boss Wyatt to escape.
In order to begin the procedure, they would also need to wait for a Grave Rupture to occur. However, almost as soon as the Morgue Seed was brought to the Cross Road by Captain Nemo and the others, they were met with a eerie and recently unheard sound — the guttural moans of the dead. As if reacting to the presence of the peculiar biomass seed brought from abroad, the dead rose up to interrupt the Graverobber procedure. Rushing to the rupture, the defenders tried to buy Slink and the others time while the explosion from the Mortis forced more of the strange broken and unformed zed, the Unfinished, into their line with a force like a tidal wave.
The Stygian Scar left by the rupture was difficult to hold open, but the radioactive metal was as effective as predicted. It enabled them to hold back the healing of the Matrix for a time, long enough to create the temporary stent, using the seed to trick the wound into healing around it instead of sealing the rupture entirely. However, once implanted, the seed would need time to form roots and complete its ersatz repose, but it would be enough to reach within the Near Death and pull out their target.
The procedure itself was incredibly taxing. To prepare the ruptured wounds, the townsfolk poured gallons of their own blood into the seeping wounds, feeding the sores with their bodies. Using the grave vents, they connected tubing and electrical wiring back to the Morgue seed to create stimulated roots of the synthetic morgue. They focused their minds on the imprint of Boss Wyatt, remembering the subtle smell of the leather they wore, the color of the hair, the sound of his voice, each memory solidifying a call into the Mortis for the lost Law Dog. With their voices pleading for Wyatt to return, they reached into the stent and found an answering hand.
the release of the gutmother
Climbing through the slimy orifice, the reconstituted body of Boss Wyatt crawled out aiding by the graverobbers to the moonlit night above. Panting and heaving, covered in viscera, blood, biomass, and rot, Wyatt struggled to form words in their newly formed body. Each gasp of new air in new lungs was a staccato rhythm of recovery. He finally spoke, with an ominous whisper, “I held her back as long as I could…”
Beneath Bravado, something shuddered. The infernal engine of change that was the Mortis Amaranthine did not turn over but some other, smaller mechanism began to squeal in its place. High pitched and distant, like a bug in another room, the Synthetic Morgue came to life with all the fanfare of a bowel movement. A semi-functional morgue, returned to service — exactly what the town needed. No fanfare, no accompanying horde. Just a serviceable stent into the Mortis so they could get their friends out.
At least, they’d hoped that.
A high pitched howl of rage pierced the sky, followed by a…. stirring… beneath the ground.
Some huge shape heaved below the ground, rippling out from the morgue in a shock wave, as that which was trapped was unbound from their cage.
A rusted cage.
A psychic pulse suddenly crippled the townsfolk surrounding the morgue as the GUTMOTHER emerged from the Mortis, followed by a horde of twisted abominations and zed. Trapped in a cage by the Grave Council months before, at the end of the last burning season in September, the RAIDER QUEEN escaped her prison.
Her pent up rage was a physical presence, rippling from her as it was answered by something gargantuan in the earth below. Foul tentacles of some creature emerged, from the greater body trapped just below the surface, still partially within the Near Death and partially formed into the rotting carcass of the Mortis Amaranthine. The corpse of the massive GRAVE LEVIATHAN, thought killed when it emerged from beyond the horizon, answered the call of the Gutmother.
The line broke immediately. All thoughts of trying to forge a perimeter were lost as a frantic battle emerged at the Cross Roads. Answering call to arms, townsfolk rushed from the Depot and the General Store to repel the Raider Queen, trying desperately to gather some form of order in the wake of the psychic shock wave that wrecked those that were defending the procedure. Blow after blow struck into the Gutmother, but each healed almost as fast as it was dealt. Her long capture had given her regenerative abilities time to supercharge, and each time she should have been struck dead, the Gutmother screamed and came back even stronger.
She would not be caged again.
As the Vados restored some measure of organization to their defense, reinforcements and other shields and guns arriving to lay waste to the zed that followed the Gutmother, turning their weapons to try to suppress the Raider Queen. With a wordless screech, she turned and fled into the darkness, refusing to give the town a chance to capture her. In the chaos of the Leviathan below rising again, the Gutmother escaped and the night quickly stilled once more.
For now, the morgue was barely functional, the procedure to place the Morgue Seed was complete. But in doing so, they had released the Gutmother once more to plague Bravado.
a Grave Leviathan
Despite the threat of the Gutmother’s return, the morgues had been returned to some measure of function. However, each time someone emerged from the new proto-morgue, they came out with four debilitating CURSES. General Rampart suggested there was a scientific explanation for the maladies, but it didn’t stop the Mystagogues and grave heads from applying a bit of their own mysticism to the conditions. Regardless of the origin or name, each of the Curses left the newly returned crippled and vulnerable for a significant amount of time. Coupled with the weakness, the very act of bringing a person across the threshold exhausted rare materials and the person’s very Resolve.
A secondary consequence of the ritual the night before was the release of a monstrous GRAVE LEVIATHAN. Formed from the corpse of the Leviathan that was slain last year, the zombie remains of the creature were trying to escape the Near Death but stopped by their sheer size. However, Grave Ruptures provided a method for the tentacled maws of the creature to escape, and the massive bulk of the creature created tectonic quakes in its near vicinity. Any time the creature approached, the ground itself rippled like the waves of the lake, casting zed and survivor alike off their feet.
As long as the massive undead creature was stuck within the Near Death, any attempt to correct or fix the wound would be vulnerable to a large attack from the Mortis itself. There was definitely a tie between the release of the Grave Leviathan and the escape of the Gutmother, and the town realized that would need to prepare to deal with both the Gutmother and the Leviathan if a confrontation could be created.
Polling the Electorate
The morning after the Gutmother’s return was met with a surprising amount of normalcy. Several of the members of the San Saba Board arrived in town early Saturday to meet with constituents before retiring to Eureka Tower for the Stakeholder’s Meeting. Boss Debs, General Rampart, Felicity Redfield, Sinker Swim, Dr. Stewart, and even Tabitha St. Mercy convened for an impromptu Board meeting in the Depot, hearing citizen requests for new proposals and listening to the townsfolk about the upcoming votes.
This was the first time that the Board was provided options to amend and change the Charter of the San Saba, and the prospect of having a say in the law was sure to get people interested in politics. In addition, the Board was recognizing smaller factions publicly based on a petition basis, provided members of that town faction could get sponsorship from a Board member present. Lastly, if someone could collect 100 signatures from stakeholders, the Board would add an item to the agenda to vote on based on the popular will of the people.
Three major votes were being suggested for a vote by the San Saba Board:
The first vote was written to make the sale and trafficking of Crystal Candy illegal throughout the San Saba. The anti-drug law was met by broad support of the Board and many citizens in the town. The loss of Boss Wyatt, and the loss of Infection from several Law Dogs that died raiding a Crystal Candy Shoppe were fresh on the minds of many voters, though a few folks were worried about the seemingly broad language of the law. According to the opponents of the law, in some interpretations it could imply that the very act of being a psion was illegal, not just the menace of Crystal Candy.
The second vote concerned ratifying the temporary seat given to the Junkerpunks, currently held by Admiral Sinker Swim, an official seat on the Board. Despite the veto of the Junkerpunks joining the board two years ago by the Chair, their plucky perseverance was paying off. While the Board members were in town, several impassioned pleas were presented from the town in support of this vote, particularly the efforts of Tink, a local DJ legend. If the vote passed, it would mean the Board would have SIX seats instead of five, and the Chair’s voice would become more necessary in the case of tiebreaker votes.
The final vote, and perhaps most contentious, was the blatant attempt by Tabitha St. Mercy of claiming power over the Law Dogs in the absence of Boss Wyatt. With Wyatt still too weak from the various Curses inflicted by passing through the Cicatrix, the Board was split over the proposal. Some were worried about recent riots in Essex, the successful assassination attempts against Takheeta, Felicity, and Boss Wyatt, and even an attempted assassination against General Rampart that very morning! The would-be assassins attempt against Rampart solidified the Grave Council vote in favor of law and order, and Rampart spoke in favor of making sure a clear chain of command was available should the leadership of the Law Dogs be absent once more.
Several new vote petitions were circulating through the town, but when the Board retired from the Depot for the trip back to Waking, none had gathered enough support to earn an immediate vote.
a gauntlet to remember
At the Gauntlet for Abe Callaghan, Postman, events suddenly escalated when Boss Wyatt of the Law Dog Union confronted Warden Tabitha St. Mercy about her documented unlawful behavior. As grumbles rose from the gathered townsfolk, Boss Wyatt pushed against Tabitha’s authority as a Justice of Sin, claiming to have proof of her misdeeds. The Warden denounced these accusations, saying that her power derived from the authority given her by the San Saba Board, and any attempt to obstruct her justice would itself be a crime against the San Saba.
Tensions quickly skyrocketed, as Tabitha haughtily dared Wyatt to try and stop her, placing her blade at the throat of Abe Callaghan, a Breacher awaiting sentencing. As the town surged forward, Tabitha attempted to retreat, taking Abe as a hostage with her. Despite a number of masked guards at her back, the mob broke her legs and wrenched Abe from her grasp. That was not the final say in the matter however. Raising her gun in her red-gloved hand, psionic power burst forward from the Justice, towards a fleeing Abe. Two individuals threw themselves in the path of this deadly projectile, and instantly died as guards bearing the symbol of an animal skull on their armor dragged a wounded Tabitha St. Mercy away, to an unknown location.
Despite the obvious assault on law and order during the Gauntlet, the trial of Abe Callaghan was not over. General Rampart stepped up to demand that the trial continue, despite the obvious lawlessness of the attack on St. Mercy. As the continued trial threatened to descend into violence once more, one of the Law Dogs, Jasper Kline stepped up to intervene and suggested a minor fine for Abe. Rampart refused to allow Jasper to simply apply a minor punishment and reminded him that the law said a Justice of Sin would administer the punishment — and Jasper was a Law Dog, not a Justice.
Slim Straightedge, one of the trustees of the Railroad Conglomerate, stepped up to remind the General that he was actually a part-time Justice of Sin and could fulfill the role as long as Rampart would be willing to accept that outcome. After checking his contract to find the Merican was surprisingly correct, the General demanded that some form of actual punishment be applied to the errant Postman for the destruction of the Grave Ledger. Rampart suggested stripping the title of Postwalker from Abe Callaghan, so that the punishment would remind them of their misdeeds in the way that a slap on the wrist would not. He was clear he wasn’t seeking the death of Abe, but Slim and Jasper finally came up with an alternative solution to appease the Grave Council leader.
Abe would spend their heart and soul retrieving others from the Morgue until they could do no more. It was a punishment in that the taxing behavior of effort and will in using the proto-Morgue would make Abe vulnerable to later challenges, but aided the Grave Council and the town through community service of retrieving the recently deceased. Disgruntled but sensing that other actions would earn him the same fate as Tabitha, General Rampart relented to the punishment suggested by Slim and a Gauntlet to Remember was finally ended.
healing what was broken
With renewed instruction from Rampart on how to better use the proto-Morgue, the town set out to retrieving those that had died the night before. While a normal morgue would require the talents of a Graverobber or Grave Attuned to work, this functional creation of the Grave Council and the morgue seed from the Sequoia Wastes allowed anyone with a strong back and strong mind to aid in the retrieval. The example of Abe Callaghan’s labor created a sudden call for the Vados to the proto-morgue to assist.
With a significant effort of Resolve and Mind, a person could be removed from the Morgue more intact than the night previous. However, the strange maladies known by the superstitious as "curses” continued, if in a slightly more manageable state. Those returned came out with less of the debilitating conditions, but it was proof that the Morgue could be improved and fixed. Research and investigation continued into the new entrance to the Mortis Amaranthine, trying to find a solution to the over-healing of the Cantankerous Matrix.
The key to the puzzle would be the GUTMOTHER herself. However, the last she had been seen in town was in the direction of a pack of the notorious Murder Goat Deer. The terrifying creatures were well known in the area and at the height of their mating season. In addition, the pollution in the lake was continuing to cause rampant mutation in the local creatures and the MGD were getting bigger and meaner by the week. One of the largest of their kind, the mighty Slaughter Goat Deer had been tracked by a few foolhardy hunters to a lair near the lake. Eager to find where the Gutmother was hiding, a team of survivors was dispatched to deal with the MGD and to try to scare the Raider Queen out of hiding.
While within arms reach of the MGD lair, the Aberrant hunters in the party began to feel the pervasive and oppressive cries of the Mortis blurring the lines between themselves and their surroundings. This lair had been formed on the ground used some many months ago as the final resting place of the Gutmother, an entrance into the RUSTED CAGE of her year long imprisonment.
They knew in that instant, without a shadow of a doubt that the Gut Mother was alive, present, and communing with the Murder Goat-Deer of the Den, somehow controlling them. More concerning, it felt like her consciousness had merged with the grave Leviathan as well! In some way, the Gutmother’s psionic resonance was like a twisted manifestation of Faith in its own right, causing both zed and critter alike to follow her will. But, if she could control the MGD, then perhaps it could be disrupted in a similar manner as a forced crisis of faith...
The hunters were acutely aware that, as the Gut Mother’s making and unmaking permeated the very soil and mycelium around her once-cage, it had positively desecrated the Den with malice and madness. Like an unholy venom bled into and sucked out of the Imprint of the land itself, the Cicatrix scar they found in the lair felt rotten and ugly and somehow under their very skin. They could feel more than hear the screams of madness and the crackling howls of a rabid wildness, beckoning them towards bloodshed and sacrifice.
Heart of Darkness
The battle was fierce, but brief. The Murder Goat Deer hiding in the warren charged into the line of the hunters, seeking to gore their flesh with hardened antlers and rending teeth. Prepared for the assault, they began separating the Slaughter Goat Deer from the pack, searching out for their true prey - the Gutmother. Even the smallest MGD was a threat, and as one of the baby fawns stabbed its horn through the heart of a hunter, his friends quickly drug him away from the rampaging beast before it could finish the murderous blow.
The faithful of the hunting group reached out to the scar on the top of the Mortis Amaranthine wound in the lair, gathering their thoughts and emotions into a shield of faith. Reaching through the protective the lens of Faith and into the shattered physical and psionic imprint of the Rusted Cage, they could feel the ground falling from beneath their feet. Their minds were shredded and remade, shredded and remade, spreading into a terrifying awareness of every wet, heaving breath lurching through their chests. The beat of hooves, the flow of dirt like water around them, and the roar of blood rushing through their veins with the deafening, primal hunger of a rabid dog unleashed after what feels like an eternity of restraint.
Pushing through the resistance of the Gutmother, feeling her IMPRINT nearby but so far away, they dug deeper into the cyst, searching for the answer. The danger was impending, alive and intoxicating, an unburdened cacophony of crowing laughter and violence that threatened to drag them under its swell -- until it stopped short, suddenly, like a bowstring pulled too-taught and refusing to snap. Or, more aptly, like a cruel tether binding the last vestiges of captivity - and mortality - in place. Even so, the cacophony of that place threatened to bleed into their minds, slithering into the psyche, threatening to ooze and coat their own Imprint in its virulent whispers until some part of their overwhelmed mind recognized the danger.
With a shout, they severed the link all at once.
For a brief, glorious moment, they were aware of it all, interconnected like a zealous hive -- and then it was too much and the connection was broken from under the crushing weight of the Gutmother’s malice...
But in their gore-covered filthy hands they clutched an imprint crystal, brimming with the memory of the Gutmother, of a single, perfect death. Without a shadow of a doubt, the power that made the Gutmother seem indefeatable was tied to this tiny fragment of a crystal. Her Imprint had merged with that of her Rusted Cage, but part of it was trapped in the palm of their hands.
Inside, the memory of a perfect death, the key to the Gutmother’s defeat. With the words of ancient Barogue burned into her mind during her first imprisonment, the chants of “Imprint is Matter, Matter is Imprint” sealing the bolts of her prison was an opportunity to use that power against her once more. As long as the final killing blow could take place near their entrance to the Mortis — the proto-morgue at the center of the crossroads, the limitless life of the Gutmother could be halted for good.
sonata of the cyst
The attack on the Murder Goat Deer den has awakened the Gutmother to the threat that the survivors had uncovered.
Answering a call that was felt, and not heard, the dead began to stir in the Mortis. Trapped within the liminal space between primordial Death and infinite Rebirth, the Imprint of the Gutmother had tied her power to all of those shattered imprints that lurked in the shadows, hungry and unmade. Like the most fetid rise of a symphony of the dead, a grave rupture burst open, spilling forth the undead monstrosities into the town.
One cyst burst, then another, then another, as wave after wave of the most potent undead seen in weeks sprang into being in Bravado. The same cystic void they felt at the Den spread out from the Crossroads, blurring the lines between the thoughts of aberrants nearby and their immediate surroundings. Focusing on psionic abilities became near impossible, as the cruel symphony played from within the Mortis itself.
The vile refrain of putrescence sang through the town, the undead screaming and throwing themselves at the townsfolk that struggled to weather the waves of rot and terror that spread from each of the undead abominations. The creatures were impacted imprint, thoughts and dreams of countless lost souls forced into one shell. Some had extra arms, others grotesque protrusions sprouting from their wounds. Each was a fragmented dead, like those they had faced the night of Takheeta’s failed ritual a month prior, each an infected wound trapped with the Gravemind by the healing power of the Cantankerous Matrix.
However, the work of the Grave Council, the graverobbers, and every citizen like Abe Callaghan that had poured their will into the proto-morgue was working.
The wave of putrescence was contained in a way. Like setting their own time to the monstrous melody, the survivors had changed the tempo. The construction at the crossroads created a single exit for the infection, and like expelling pus from an infected pimple, the dead were emerging at a predictable place. The preparations of the morgue was allowing the trapped rot to escape and to provide an outlet to express the cyst that was trapped below, created by the ravages of the Rusted Cage.
Once, this cage held the Gutmother, but now it was open.
All of the pent up biomass was being released, the coming surge of zed causing a spectral and haunting whistling to emerge from the site of the Gutmother’s original breach the night before. Like too much air being forced through a pin hole, the sonata of the cyst wailed a mournful tune into the night sky of Bravado.
In order to destroy the cage for good and banish the Gutmother, they would need to bring her to the site of her imprisonment and apply the Imprint of Perfect Death as they incapacitated the Raider Queen. Unmaking the weave of decay that bound her to the cyst, they could render her mortal once more. From there, they could re-bind the threads that were unmade that night so long ago, ripping out the Gutmother’s connection to the Cantankerous Matrix, and severing the cord.
The waves of undead were fought back, at first monstrous Abominations, Tanks, and worse. Each time, the Gutmother wailed her song, her sword flicking left and right at the throats of the survivors, evading each attempt to draw her close to the morgue. It was as if she sensed what they were trying to do, bleeding out the cyst and luring her into the trap. As the cyst pulsed again, expelling fresh horrors from the Gravemind, the creatures were different with each successive wave.
The crest of the cyst was foul and terrible, but like an infected wound the worse was trapped just beneath the surface. The other built up pus and bile was no less foul, but it was perhaps less potent. The impacted memories of those that had died were trapped near the surface, and as those creatures were slain, the ones that followed were slightly less fractured, less unmade, and more “normal”. What was once a mutated Tank was now a multi-limbed Burster, as it melted away to the lowly Shambler.
Depriving the horde of the more powerful shock troops, the defenders began to cut off the paths of escape for the Gutmother. The phalanx pressed against the dead, while skirmishers flitted about in the darkness at the edge of the woods, driving her back into the waiting swords and axes of their friends. It was a slow slog, chopping through what seemed like endless shamblers, the wave of foulness unending. It was not about a quick and fast tactical fight, but a battle of will and endurance, each survivor needing to conserve their defenses and energy to stave off weariness and exhaustion.
Finally, like a clarion call at the climax of the symphony, the Gutmother’s screaming and twisting form was dragged to the cyst at the crossroads. Focusing their faith, will, and hate into the Imprint Crystal of Perfect Death, several weapons descending in concert, a stunning percussive thump as the Gutmother’s head was severed from her body a final time.
She was mortal, and she was dead.
The whistling from the cyst has quieted. There were a few scattered shouts and clangs of metal slicing into undead flesh as the last of the horde was repelled, but the sonata of the cyst was over. The wound had been cleansed of the infection, and the pulsing psionic energy of the Cantankerous Matrix sealed the wound as it was intended. Instead of building up scar tissue by trying to fight against the impacted cyst, the healing was the vision that Takheeta had promised when she started her great work. The morgue was healed, and the cycle of death was restored once more.
This time for good.
other threads of note during THE CICATRIX
Local entrepreneurs Candy and Donny set up shop outside of the Anyport Pool, newly opened for the start of the Burning Season. Saltwise and Semper Mort alike got to enjoy fun in the sun, splashing with their friends in a diversion from all the chaos of the weekend. Drinks with fancy umbrellas and treats were enjoyed by the pool during the siesta by all.
A group of Lovelace entrepreneurs came to town to recruit teams for SNAIL RACING. Using the monstrous house-sized snails native to the Widow’s Peak, the Lovelace’s envisioned a months-long race of the Snails across the San Saba and were looking for early investors into the new sport. A few of the townsfolk eagerly bought into the scheme, including the Road Royals, the Lucky Seven, the Shields of the Lonestar, and even Felicity Redfield herself. Stay tuned for more from the GREAT SNAIL RACE.
Something happened late Friday night that had a legion of masked assassins leaving town to an unknown destination. Rumor has it there was some kind of shakeup in Murder Inc., as a challenge to the authority of the leadership was made. The details are hidden and secret, and far too many knives directed against those with prying questions to speak further..
A pair of whimsical ne’er-do-wells accosted strangers on the road to the lake. Dressed in fancy masks, hats, and elaborate capes, they pillaged and rampaged while the town was distracted by the diversion of the water and sun.
Friday night was particularly deadly, as the visiting Nemesis of Luxury, Leslie of Standards and Practices, was in town for the titular Friday the 13th. The story of Jason Vorhees was shared in the dark of the night, a repeated refrain of breathing marking the arrival of the terrifying Nemesis. While some were attacked and killed by the Vorhees, the primary motivation seemed to be to show the local TV the ropes, explaining the different techniques and practices of the haunt that marked their faith. Some say Leslie found some VERY interested students to carry on his message for the future…
While many folks in the town were enjoying the luxuries of the pool party and Candy Heart’s hospitality, the King’s & Queen’s Court of Bravado were having their own moment to the side. A lone traveler, weary from the road and the journey brought to their hands an ancient relic of the Courtiers, an intact record, preserved from the ages in a vinyl sleeve. The traveler promised other relics could be found, provided the faithful were willing to put themselves to the search…
The Rook, a mishapen psion that is known as an enemy of confectioners across the San Saba was seen around town trying to find clues about a new Crystal Candy Shoppe on the outskirts. Rumors has it that they were trying to find some information about who might have been behind the attack on the Law Dog raid last month, but their contact ended up dead before they could find the proof. How convenient…
Votes of Consequence, and the power of the people
In the morning after the final death of the Gutmother, the town breathed a heavy sigh. The scar tissue of the morgues seemed to be receding and early telegrams from Essex held promising news of the effect spreading out from the locus of Bravado. While the Cantankerous Matrix was still trapped within the Mortis Amaranthine, it’s strange healing was no longer closing off access to Morgues around the San Saba. Within a few days, it was likely that most every effected settlement would be cured.
In a last ditch effort, a group of concerned citizens circulated one last petition to take to the Board before their final vote in Waking that afternoon. While many of the lesser petitions to add new laws or amendments to the charter had failed to earn enough interest, one particular vote of consequence sparked a passion from nearly the entire town of Bravado.
An amendment to remove Tabitha St. Mercy as Warden of Prudence Penitentiary.
It was a powerful statement of agency.
The mysterious Devil Dogs that had captured Tabitha the day before spoke of an agreement with Tabitha herself, that they believed Tabitha would accept the vote provided enough signatures were gathered. Some suggested that the Board would never remove a sitting board member, that the town’s very attack at the Gauntlet was a threat to the powerful in a way that they could not entertain. A few spoke out against the idea of removing Tabitha from power, for fear of someone worse taking her place, but the near riotous pack of Vados were unified in their vision. The first blow against the evil of Tabitha St. Mercy would be struck.
With names collected on an oily piece of parchment, written front and back was 142 signatures.
The rules of the Stakeholder’s Meeting required at least 100 signatures to add a new vote in front of the Chair. Each name was a vote behind the mysterious trustee that submitted the proposition. The proposal would require consideration by the mighty San Saba Board, using the very letter of the law. The voices of the people were united in one cause, and emboldened by the attack on Tabitha during the Gauntlet the night before, the final stamp was placed on the signatures by the Post Office, ratifying their effort and proving the power of the people.
There was a thrill in the air, and even as the trains arrived to take the Vados to places abroad to weather the upcoming Burning Season in safety, there was a sense of accomplishment. The Plague of the Unfinished was cured. The Cantankerous Matrix was safe. The Gutmother was slain. The strange cysts stopping the cycle of death were healing. Tabitha could even lose her seat on the San Saba Board.
It would be a new and fabulous day. As each survivor looked up into the deep blue of the LONESTAR SKIES, even the impending heat of the Burning Season couldn’t get them down…
Wrap up — what’s next?
That wraps up our Season 3 narrative, gang. Sorry this took a bit to get to you, but I was enjoying my summer break. You might have seen a particuar teaser shared on Facebook, of a certain problem brewing for the capital of the San Saba, the flying city of Waking Prime.
EXTRA, EXTRA: WAKING FALLS FROM THE SKY!
The city of Waking Prime, capital of the San Saba Territories is FALLING FROM THE SKY! Our exclusive source reveals that the famous CAPACITY ENGINE, the powerful oldcestor technology that allows the floating sky palace to move is FAILING. Last week, the San Saba Protectorate reported over 100 casualties as the port engine briefly stopped functioning. The gargantuan airship listed to one side, pitching scientists and politicians off their feet and even a few OVERBOARD!! Damage reports are still coming in, but several buildings have been damaged by the sudden upheaval, including one ancillary research structure that collapsed entirely. Construction crews are being dispatched from Essex to repair what damage they can, but the ancient oldcestor airship engine defies even the understanding of the Cult of Savannah’s Light. If the CAPACITY ENGINE cannot be repaired or replaced, WAKING PRIME is DOOMED!
Exclusive Story Continues on Page 2.
Stay tuned in the coming weeks as we begin our ramp up to Season Four. We have some amazing stories planned, our first live National Event in October, a Premiere Event in December, and a brand new team of guides and STs ready to continue making Texas the best damn chapter in the network.
Thank you for your trust, your support, and thank you for your interest in our humble stories. We are so excited for our next season and can’t want to welcome you back home to Bravado.
See you soon, Vados!