Lords of RPG

PART ONE

But, now they must face The Plunder.  Or better put, they had chosen to face the Plunder.  Their efforts had been cheered on by Mad Morgan over the radio, and after the rift collapse, the pirate leader had seemed uncharacteristically philosophical about the destruction of the Dark Sea.  Clearly the chaos-worshiping pirates had pinned high hopes on the ship’s recovery.  To the point of referring to the crew of the Odyssey as “agents of chaos, a gift from the void meant to deliver unto man his destiny.”  What had then meant by this, and why had Mad Morgan been so understanding when the ship was lost?  Why had he invited them to dine upon his flag ship, the Black Corsair?  They would know soon enough.

Striker steered the Odyssey toward the position of The Plunder’s ships, and for their part the Dreadnought class ship and two Raider class ships were approaching from where they had watched everything go down.  Mad Morgan’s voice came over the intership radio.  “The Corsair is equipped with a landing bay.  You can enter my ship and land there, on pad 14.  You can carry your weapons, though you’ll have no need for them.  I’ve granted you safe passage as long as you comport yourself well.”

Adamn answered, “Message received.  We are approaching.”

The Black Corsair was massive.  It was clearly constructed from the remains of battleship-class vehicles, of various models and origins.  The ship’s exterior ranged from black to dark gray, featuring a fearsome combination of bulky armor plating, with many protruding weapon emplacements.  In deep red, strange symbols and sigils were painted upon its hull.  Adamn too all this in.  “They’ve adorned their ship with symbols of chaos.  It forms a prayer of sorts...a pleading with the void to take them into its cold embrace.”
 
The Odyssey entered the gaping mouth on the underside of the Dark Corsair.  The landing bay was large, and housed a number of merchant ships, and 15 rust wasp class fighter ships.  Striker carefully maneuvered the Odyssey over pad 14, and set the ship down gently.  The crew of the Odyssey made its way to the cargo hold, and the ramps that would allow them to dis-embark from their ship.

Cam, Striker, Corvus, Zhukov, and Adamn stood near the ramp as Cam pushed the button, and the ramp began to lower.  Cam smiled.  “Are we all dining with the Pirate Lord?  I’m good with that.  But, if anyone doesn’t want to go...speak now.  You can stay here if you want.”

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GM:  So, who is disembarking, and who is choosing to stay in the Odyssey?  Answer in the comments, or on Discord, and I'll continue the story from there.

NOTE:  Mark Simon, Chris, and Tom all wrote comments to this story.  Those comments have been included in the compiled version of this story that appears in the Dark Seas Player's Guide.

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PART TWO

The five crew members of the Odyssey descended the cargo ramp, and walked out onto the floor of the cavernous landing bay.  The room had a flat floor, and the various landing areas were marked with red paint on the black metal floors.  Along the walls, and between the landing areas, were stacks of scrap, spare parts, broken parts, and pirated loot that was waiting to be moved into a cargo hold.  The place was cluttered and dirty.

Twenty-some pirates walked around the various ships in the hold, some of them appeared to be the technicians that kept the rust wasp fighter ships in flying condition.  The ships of the Plunder were a hodge-podge of various ship parts repurposed into a new design all their own.  The ship technicians of the Plunder were experts at making more from less, and getting ships space-ready that had no business ever flying again.

There were eight pirates of the Plunder waiting at the bottom of the ramp.  They were heavily armed, but all their weapons were holstered or slung.  Their armor was black, just as cobbled together as their ships, and had red chaos symbols roughly painted onto its surface.  Without exception, their armor was battle-worn, with patched areas or visible energy weapon scorch marks on its surface.

One of these escorts stepped forward to meet the crew as they disembarked.  “Mad Morgan said you can come aboard armed.  What good is a man without his weapons?  He said he wants you to know you are welcome here.  My name is Abaddon.  Follow me.”  With that, the Abaddon walked away from the group, and though a cordon of his fellow escorts.  The crew followed the pirate, and the other escorts fell in a disorganized line behind the crew.

Corvus felt that itchy feeling he got when ever he felt like he was at a disadvantage.  Zhukov seemed to notice, and addressed him quietly.  “We’re in this now...no turning back...let’s go with the flow, and see where this goes.”  Corvus gave him a curt nod, but he felt a bit like a deer among a pack of wolves.

The crew and escort exited the landing bay through an equally cluttered hallway.  Some of the lights in the ceiling were no longer working.  Piles of trash and debris ran along both walls of the metal corridor.  Here and there, pirates sat on boxes piled in the hallway, and watched as the group passed by.  All of them were heavily armed, and wore that same make-shift black armor adorned with a red splash of iconography representing their worship of cosmic chaos.

Abaddon turned his head back toward the crew as he walked.  “Don’t mind the boys.  We don’t get many guests.  At least not willing guests.”  Abaddon smiled, and then turned his head forward again as he led the crew deeper into the Black Corsair.

Cam had been taken by the confidence of the Shadow Fleet.  There was something about the pirate life that spoke to him.  Fuck the rules.  Fuck the law.  Fuck all that.  The universe was a tough place, and a man had to make his own way, or get swallowed up in the tragedy of it all.  The pirates of the Plunder had that same swagger about them.  But, there was something different.  While easy money and excitement seemed to be what fueled the Shadow Fleet, the pirates of the Plunder had a different look in their eye.  The were true believers.  They fought for something greater than themselves, for better or worse.

The cluttered corridor widened into a large chamber.  Multiple hallways led off this central area, and the chamber had two levels, with a walkway and railing going all the way around the perimeter of the room up above.  There were little bedrolls and individual living areas all of the floor, with just a pathway winding through them.  The room was full of people, sitting or laying in their tiny living space.  These people had a different look about them.  They seemed broken...perhaps lost is despair.  Abaddon stopped.  “This is where our new conscripts sleep and live.  If they fight well for us, they are welcomed into the Plunder fully as one of our brothers.  Those that fall short are sacrificed to Xylocria, their screams adding to the discordant beauty of her cosmic song.  We’re almost there now.”  Abaddon turned and led on, not waiting for questions or comment from the crew.
Exiting the great bunk room full of conscripts, the crew and their escorts entered another dark and cluttered corridor.  Doors ran up and down both sides of the hall, and each door featured a name or symbol painted in red upon its surface.  At the end of the corridor, there was a set of double doors.  Abaddon stopped before the door and turned.  “Mad Morgan awaits you,  Our journey ends here.  You’ve been promised safe passage, and we have no choice but to respect that.  But, once your visit here ends, if I meet you in the void, may the sounds of our battle please Entropis.  May the destruction we wrought against each other bring a smile to his black lips.”

The double doors opened, and a dim cluttered room came into view.  A long table, cluttered into half-remembered projects, ran the length of the room.  At the end of the table sat a man with a long salt-and-pepper beard, and a desperate look in his eye.  Four heavily armored pirates stood in the corners of the room, two of them behind the man with the crazy eyes.  The man stood.  “Come...come and dine with Mad Morgan.  Let us discuss how we may escape from this cosmic prison...”

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GM:  Please feel free to continue the story.  How do you enter the room?  Who speaks?  What do you say?  How do you introduce yourselves? 

NOTE:  Chris wrote comments to Part 2 of this story.  Those comments have been included in the compiled version of this story that appears in the Dark Seas Player's Guide.

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PART THREE

Mad Morgan listened intently, interjecting a question here and there to clarify some part of each of their tales.  During the storytelling, he gestured to one of his guards, and men brought empty mugs and a pitcher of a dark liquor that smelled a little like kerosene.  The mugs were distributed to each of the Odyssey’s crew and one in front of Mad Morgan.  And the men acting as servants poured a healthy share into each mug.

As Cam’s story about owing a pirate captain came to a close, Mad Morgan lifted his own mug in a toast.  He waited for the crew to raise their own mugs.  When all the mugs were raised, he said simply, “May we all meet the fate we deserve.”  And he drank heartily at the dark strong liquor.  Cam took a large gulp of the drink, while many of his fellow crew members seemed to be hesitating.  Cam choked a bit at the strong burn running down throat, and came away coughing.  The other crew members took a polite sip, or at least pretended to do so.

“Now.  With the introductions complete….”

Corvus interrupted.  “But, we know hardly anything about you.  Yes...you are clearly a leader of pirates, and have a large battleship...but….

Mad Morgan nodded.  “Yes, of course.  I started out much as you.  Part of a lawful society.  Following the rules...trying to fit in.  I worked in the field...well, the field of science.  Even in that field, there are rules to follow.  An established order.  But, that only takes you so far.  And when I pushed the boundaries...science pushed back.  There was a catastrophe.  And not a small one.”  The pirate took another long drink from his mug.  “People died...tragic of course.  My career was over.  I had broken the rules.  So, society made it clear that my position would be one of disgrace.  Poverty.  Privation.  No opportunities.  No redemption.”

“I could have wallowed in the muck.  I could have bent the knew to societal expectations.  But, the tragedy had taught me something.  The true configuration of the universe is not one of order.  There is no cosmic watchbuilder that set the planets spinning.  No creative plan by which we live out our lives as ordained.  No benevolent God that watches over us.  No...NO!  There is only chaos and the void.  Everything else is the exception.  Chaos is the rule.”

Adamn took advantage of the pause to ask a question.  “With all due respect, who are you to define the Universe?  Who are you to chase the unraveling strands of creation, and call it a belief system.”

Mad Morgan smiled.  “One could ask you the same.  Humans are evolved from tribal creatures.  Hairy monkeys swinging in the trees, and killing each other for the chance to mate with the best female.  We used Order as a tool to tame the wilds.  We used Order, and Rules, and Laws to hide from our true nature.  Who are you to define the universe.”  The pirate paused, and looked to each person at the table.

“I am simply a man that realized that I was in control of nothing.  The void cares nothing for our rules.  Entropy is a natural law.  It is as evident as the light from a sun.  The universe is racing toward a final dissolution.  The end of all order is the inevitable conclusion of all this!  Deny it as we will, it is law!  So, I stopped fooling myself.  I embraced the chaos.  I worship it.  I study it.  I seek it out in all its forms.  Along the way, I found men...and women...seeking the same .  And now we seek it together.”

Cam was still itching to get his questions answered.  “So, that’s how you got into piracy?”

Mad Morgan turned his attention fully to Cam.  “So young...so curious.  Yes, piracy follows the true laws of nature.  If we are strong enough to take something...and we want it...we take it.  We are hunters, and we hunt a very dangerous prey.  If you are weak, you will die.  If you are strong, you will prosper.  Veridian can build up its navy.  The Shadow Fleet can prance about in their crimson armor, chasing women and credits and booze.  But, you can’t fight nature, boy.  You can’t stem the chaos, and I’m the living embodiment of that unstoppable force.  Our enemies can convince themselves they are hunting us, but it is like a deer believing it hunts the wolf.  Belief does not make it true.”

“The Plunder’s fleet is much larger most know.  And even if they had a vague idea of our number, they would lie to themselves so they could sleep at night.  The very system of laws that our enemy uses to support their false society, feeds us a constant stream of recruits.  A boy, much like yourself, steals an apple because he’s hungry.  Do the authorities of Veridian then feed the boy, seeing the need?  No!  They punish him.  They shame him.  They put a mark by his name, that he can never escape.  What choice does that boy have but to face the fact that his society cares little for him.  While the Plunder embraces his flaw.  The Plunder understands him.  The Plunder lets him earn his place, and give him the respect he deserves.”

“So people seek us out.  Often their society has given them no choice.  Or perhaps, they seek the chaos that we seek, and wish to be our brother.”

Corvus spoke up again.  “We saw the conditions under which your conscripts live.  We know that you sacrifice them to your gods.  So, don’t try to fool the boy by painting kidnapping and murder with a poetic brush.”

Mad Morgan nodded.  “Conscripts are prisoners.  Have you seen the inside of a jail on Veridian?  Do you know what they do to their prisoners?  At least our prisoners have every chance to redeem themselves.  Our prisoners can choose to join our brotherhood, and work to earn it.  Or they can choose death, and be gifted to our gods.  The choice is theirs.  But, at least they have choices here.  It isn’t pretty.  It isn’t kind.  It isn’t fair.  But, I don’t claim to be any of those things.  I embrace my nature.  I know who I am.  And I would not have brought you here, if I did not want you to know exactly who I am.”

The pirate gestured to one of his guards, and food was brought.  Roasted meat.  Fresh vegatables.  Fruit.  Sweets.  Cam stared at the plate in front of him.  On Starlight Haven they ate a processed paste that was designed for its nutrient value and efficiency at feeding the populous.  On Veridian, the young man had eaten a few meals of real food, and despite how good it tasted, it was strange a first.  But here, this food in front of him was decadent.  Everything about it was for flavor, with little mind to its nutrient value of efficiency.  Mad Morgan chuckled, and took a bite of his own food.  “Dig in, boy.  The Plunder provides.”

Cam and Mad Morgan began eating in earnest.  Striker hesitated only a moment before joining them.  Adamn said a quick prayer and poked at his food.  Corvus and Zhukov were slow to begin, but after a shared glance, they began eating at the parts of the meal they felt were the safest.

The pirate raised up the meaty leg of some strange creature.  “Eat up.  My technicians tell me your ship, the Odyssey was built by Starlight Haven.  If you are from there, you know that the order of society has proclaimed that you must eat paste.  I also know there’s a black market there, that sells actual meat and other foods forbidden to the masses.  So, if nothing else, take this as an opportunity to enjoy a meal.  Savor it.  Think of it as my thanks, for going into the rift.  My thanks for attempting to recover the Dark Sea from the shadowweavers that infested it.  My thanks for dining with an old man, and entertaining his dark thoughts.”  Mad Morgan took a big of meat from the leg, and washed it down with a gulp of dark liquor.”

Striker had felt a little left out of the conversation, and the quiet of the actual meal gave him an opening.  “So, how did you know about the Dark Sea and its spike drive?  Why didn’t you try it yourself?”

Mad Morgan finished chewing his latest bite.  “You’re the pilot.  I’d say without you, the Odyssey would be a drifting cloud of debris about now.  That was solid flying, escaping from the rift.  To answer your question, we must first establish that we are stuck in a box.  No spike drive means that we’re stuck here in Zeta Prime.  All of us.  We’ve lost something, and because hundreds of years have passed, sometimes we lose sight of it.  We’ve lost the ability to go where ever we want.  We’ve lost our contact with the void.  We’ve lost our freedom.  So, the Plunder seeks a spike drive.  We wish to return our people...all of our people...to the stars.”

“We identified the unique signature of a spike drive failure, and to our surprise, it wasn’t just a flash.  It wasn’t the ancient reflection of a spike drive exploding in the Scream.  It was an ongoing process of gravitational distortion.  Once we scanned it, finding it was not difficult for us to find it.  We know more about the void than anyone.  We arrived over Persephone Station many months ago.  When we encountered the shadow weavers, we retreated and consulted our priests.  The signs and portent were clear they said.  Phobraxis had provided us with this opportunity as a gift.  But, the god of nightmares would send agents of chaos.  Chosen ones to pluck the Dark Sea from the rift.  And here you are.”

Striker thought about this for a few seconds.  “But we failed?  Why would your god send a gift, agents to recover that gift, and then let them fail?”

Mad Morgan smiled.  “Now you’re getting it.  The state, the rule, the very nature of the universe and its Gods is chaos.  Perhaps we did not deserve the gift.  Perhaps we have lessons yet to learn.  Perhaps we simply didn’t earn it.  Nothing it owed to us in this life.  We have to take it for ourselves.  There will be other opportunities.  The priests assure me this is true.  We have promising leads.  And when we have earned it...when we are ready...we will have our spike drive.”

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GM:  Please feel free to ask Mad Morgan any more questions you might have.  Continue the story as you wish.  If I mischaracterized your character or you have any changes to suggest to what I wrote, just let me know.  :-)

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JAY WROTE:

Zhukov knew he would sleep well when they got back to the ship.  Every muscle and nerve in him was strained with the danger that hung in the air of this whole ship.  He politely pretended to drink, he ate and tried not to think of how incredible real meat tasted.  He listened to the crazy old man blather on about chaos.  He waited until the meal was clearly winding down before he spoke and asked his question.  “I’m not saying I believe in all of that but do your priests say we the chosen ones for this rift? Or the chosen to find any spike drive?”

MARK WROTE:

Mad Morgan held up his mug in Zhukov's direction, possibly as an indication of respect.  "The priests said that if we waited, Entropis would bring chosen ones to explore the rift.  You arrived, and I don't believe it was coincidence.  I think our missions are entwined.  I think you were brought here for a purpose.  So, while none of us will get to helm the Dark Sea into the void and beyond, a purpose was served.  Perhaps it was so that we could meet.  Perhaps it was to give us a taste of what is to come.  I do not claim to know.  You were chosen to fly into the rift, that I do believe.  But, as for who will eventually find a workable spike drive...that tale has not been written."

MARK SIMON WROTE:

When they first disembarked from the Odyssey, it had taken all of Adamn's composure to keep from letting his eyes dart around searching for anyone he might recognize, or who might recognize him. It had been years, but still, there was a chance Adamn would be forced to ‘reaquaint’ with someone from a part of his past he hadn’t shared with people from Starlight Haven.

As they had toured the ship and met the infamous pirate Mad Morgan, no familiar faces presented themselves and Adamn began to relax a bit.  Over the course of the dinner, Adamn began to appreciate Mad Morgan’s thoughts and opinions. While not entirely concurring with the pirate’s personal philosophy of Chaos and Entropy, there was something to it…as though it was a very important piece of a much larger puzzle.

“Your philosophy does make sense to me.” Adamn said towards the end of dinner during a short lull in the conversation.

“Your whole life has been chaos and entropy; how could you not develop the philosophy you espouse. Could a hummingbird imagine a ‘god without wings’? I will consider your words thoroughly as we set forth. Thank you for sharing!” The priest finished with a polite nod and a raised mug.

MARK STINSON WROTE:

Mad Morgan raised his mug in return.  "Make no mistake, I come from a long line of men who attempted to build walls against the chaos.  Who shaped whole societies meant to shape men into automatons of order and law.  Until the my late 30's, I was a man of science.  A researcher attempting to tame the void.  And then...in one fateful moment, the void reached out and broke the illusion.  Destroyed 100's of lives, using the very technology I sought to bring to mankind.   And in turn...I was now outside of society.  Judged.  Hated.  Shamed."

Mad Morgan paused, drank from his mug and set it down.  "Mark my words, gentlemen.  Right now, you play at the fringes of society and order.  But more and more, you spend your time in forbidden places.  More and more, you will feel the comforting embrace of the void.  And then one day, you might just find that precious spike drive.  You have it...and they WANT it.  Then you will see those orderly men, with their books of laws, and their religions meant to separate them from the beasts...what will they become then?  What will they NOT do to take that spike drive from you?  Which of their principles and beliefs will they NOT violate to take what is yours?  The mask will fall away, and you will see laws broken, order defiled, religion blasphemed...all to take that precious spike drive from you."

An awkward silence hung over the room.  Mad Morgan laughed.  "Ah...but you see, I'm just a mad man.  A mad man in a cage.  It is easy to disregard my warnings.  But, if and when you find a spike drive, will the leader's of Starlight Haven respect what you want to see done with it?  Will Veridian's Navies not rage and murder to get it?  Will not the crimson-jacks of the Shadow Fleet NOT gladly step over your corpses to take it from you?  What will the beasts we call men do to each other to claw their way out of this prison?"

"So, a proposal.  If I find the spike drive first, I'm keeping it.  But, I'll give you full schematics.  All the data.  All the specs.  Everything you need to get any self-respecting shipyard to build you one of your own.  Because as much as I want to escape, I want you to escape as well.  In return, if you find the spike drive first.  Return the favor.  Let your fellow beasts out of the cage!"

CHRIS WROTE, WITH ADDITIONS BY MARK:

Mad Morgan took a deep breath, as though some difficult task had been completed.  As though, he has said his piece, and his words have come to an end.  He smiled a tired smile, and said,  "As our time here comes to a close, I must thank you for obtaining the partial schematics and readouts of the ship from the rift."

The crew of the Odyssey looked to one another in shock.  How had he known that?  Had he obtained the data from their ship?  Had he stolen the data?  Was it out of their reach now?

Mad Morgan took a drink from his mug.  "We're partners in this.  I simply took a copy of what you obtained.  You have lost nothing.  Everything you gathered is still there for you to analyze and use as you wish.  But deny it all you want, we are partners in this."

Mad Morgan continued, "And to reward you for your efforts I have modified your ship to be more useful as you journey forth.  Explorer need to be able to explore.  And I've made that easier for you now."

The pirate motioned for the men to clear the plates and dishes away, as he rose from his seat.  "Let's see how the work progresses, shall we?"

Mad Morgan left the dining chamber, the crew of the Odyssey following him.  Armed guards trailed behind the group.  As Morgan passed pirates in the cluttered corridors of the Black Corsair, they would bow their head and whisper strange words that sounded like madness articulated.  They arrived in the cavernous landing bay, to find the Odyssey partially dismantled in the area of the bridge and life raft.  The speed and extent of the work being done was a marvel to behold.

Welders were busy at work replacing the life raft. Cranes moved the old life raft off of the Oyssey.  The explosives were removed and replaced with mechanical releases of some sort.  Off to the side a modified gravcar was waiting to be installed.  The gravcar featured armor, a laser rifle mount, and it appeared to be fitted with shielding for limited space travel.  Abaddon, the crew's escort from earlier, walked up and stood next to Mad Morgan.  Abaddon bowed his head, and whispered arcane prayers before giving the Pirate Lord a nod.

Mad Morgan explained, "The new addition can shuttle between ships and can enter the atmosphere. However, the damage sustained during re-entry and landing will render it useless for further use.  However, if it is detached after the ship has landed planetside, it can function as an armored gravcar.  Although, it is naturally slower due to the armor."

The vehicle had black armor protruding in jagged plates meant to deflect lasers and kinetic projectiles. It was black and covered in red chaos symbols that made its origins rather obvious.  The red paint is acid-etched into the black armor making it intrinsically apart of the vehicle's skin.  Cranes lifted the new gravcar into place, as the ship's technicians etched red lines and symbols radiating out from its position near the bridge.  While the majority of the Odyssey appeared unchanged, the addition of the new gravcar and chaos etchings gave the top of the ship, and the area around the bridge, the appearance of being one of the Plunder fleet.

Cam's mouth was open.  "Holy fucking shit!"

Mad Morgan grinned a ghastly grin from ear to ear of his bearded face.

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GM:  Continue the story as you wish.

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TOM WROTE:  Striker looked at the modifications to the Odyssey approvingly. Having the ability to travel planetside without renting or “procuring” gravcars will be nice. While considering how the additional mass would impact flight characteristics he had a thought, turning to Mad Morgan he said, “Hey Morgan, thank you for this evening it has been… eye-opening.  Hearing about your chaos theory and the nature of the universe resonates with me. In another life, I’m sure I was a full pirate and still might be part one now.” He said with a smirk.  “I would be grateful if you would commemorate our FIRST meeting by modding my piece”, Striker said while patting the holstered semiauto sidearm. “If nothing else some of your red runes, would go a long way in starting or ending conversations.”  While waiting for Mad Morgan’s response Striker turned back and continued to watch the work progress on the Odyssey.

MARK WROTE:

Mad Morgan nodded to Abaddon, and the pirate walked up to Striker with his hand out.  The young pilot looked from him to Mad Morgan, and back again.  He reached for his gun, slowly drawing it out, and placing it in Abaddon's hand.  Abaddon left with the gun.  Mad Morgan said, "We'll adorn your gun with our holy symbols.  Every time your gun fires, the bark of its barrel will add to the cosmic cacophony of Xylocria's dark song.  The destruction and death you bring, will be a tribute to Entropis.  And the wailing of those left behind by those deaths will feed the nightmare web of Phobraxis.  You will do the dark gods great honor by carrying such a weapon.

The alterations to the Odyssey continued, and the work was coming to a close.  Some time had passed before Abaddon returned with Striker's gun.  He held it out to the young pilot on the palms of his outstretched hands.  His head was bowed, and his whispered words that sounded completely alien to the young man.  Striker took the gun with an awkward bow of his head, attempting to show respect.  Holding the gun in his hands, and looking at the alterations, he wondered what dark pact he many have unknowingly entered.

 

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GM:  Continue the story as you wish.

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CHRIS WROTE:

Cam whispered to Mad Morgan, "What tales have you heard about anomalies that could be attributed to residual spike drives? We believe there are more stories to chase. What do you know of the Forge near Abyssal?"