In movies, television, and
novels there are often story elements or plot points of which
the main characters are not aware. But, these plot points add
depth, interest, description, and even irony to the story.
They are a necessary part of storytelling, in most
cases.
Role-Playing Games tend to focus on the story
immediately surrounding the main characters...the player
characters. But, for a truly dramatic and interesting
story, sometimes you have to know about the
movements, emotions, goals, and adventures of characters other
than the main characters.
These stories do not
directly affect or involve the main characters, but the
events and characters depicted in these side-stories will play
a role in the overall storyline. They contain
player-knowledge and not
character-knowledge.
For Story Depth...
"Javair and the White Queen"
The large exotic ship dominated the bay of the
fishing village of Wather. The ship’s black wood appeared like it
has been scorched black, rather than painted...and its three masts towered
above its decks and cast long shadows across the water. At the bow,
there was an ornately carved figurehead of a woman. Her features
were fine, her limbs long and beautiful, and she was painted white.
Sailors milled about the deck, cleaning, coiling rope, and performing
maintenance under the watchful gaze of their senior men. The men
were a hardened bunch, strong, and thick, and battle-scarred. Some
were missing an eye, or an ear...or even a leg, replaced with a sturdy oak
peg of course.It was a calm evening, with a very light breeze. The
sky was a mixture of dark blues and gray wisps of clouds in the east, and
the red, orange, and gold glow of a sunset along the ocean. Sea
birds circled overhead, and there was a light lapping of waves against the
hull.
In the Captain’s quarters, off the back of the main
deck, and under the aft deck, a man sat at a table full of maps and other
papers. He was handsome. He appeared younger than he was,
despite the gray beginning to show in his brown hair and the lines that
had formed around his twinkling eyes. His clothing was a mismatched
from various cultures. Pants in the riding style of the Grasslands
of Shronth, with leather along the insides of the pants legs. A
shirt in the pirate style of the Crimson Coast, with a ¾ length coat that
clearly hailed from the Feron-Jacobe Empire. His boots were high
Swaldune boots, worn by the dragon-riders of that mysterious
island.
The man, clearly the Captain of the ship, drank a bit
of wine from a crystal goblet, much too large to fashionable drink wine
from, and closed his eyes. One could imagine that the weight of the
ages lay upon this leader of men. With a little imagination, one
could picture the amazing things he had seen and done in his life.
Things of myth and legend...earth-shaking things. One could surmise
that this man had lived the lives of five men, all packed into one
life. Nay, ten men. Such is the life of an adventurous man
such as he.
The Captain reached for a box beneath the table,
and pulled from it a harp. It was carved from the rarest woods, and
inlaid with precious metals and gems. The strings appeared to be of
woven from filaments of gold and the coarse hair of some unimaginable
beast. He laid one hand upon the strings, as though he felt
something unheard there...something silent. Something ready to be
released. And then he played. The music of the harp was unlike
any other harp that had ever been made. The men working on deck
stopped working, and swayed to the rhythm of the music, as though their
minds were no longer their own. The waters around the large black
ship boiled with fish, surfacing as if to hear the tune better. The
very air around the Ship swirled with the tone and tenor of each
note...and the world was different. Better. More
orderly.
A tendril of fabric seemed to creep under the
side-door of the cabin, and snake its way unseen toward the Captain.
Though it was simply woven fabric, like something one would use to wrap or
bandage a wound, it had a life of its own. This tendril slowed as it
approached the Captain, and then with lightning speed encircled the
captains strumming hand, and pulled it away from the harp, stopping the
music. The air around the ship became still, the fish at the surface
fo the water submerged, and the men on deck seemed to wake from a
spell.
The Captain, in his cabin, pulled his hand from
the grip of the strip of living fabric, as the side-door of his cabin
opened and a stranger figure passed through the doorway. The figure
spoke. “Captain, with all due respect, what have I said about
playing that harp aboard the White Queen? Its dangerous.” The
figure was tall and thin, and wore a wide belt bristling with
weapons. Everywhere that flesh should have been showing, the man was
wrapped in the white bandages...or strips of fabric. From head to
toe he appeared wrapped in the cloth strips, and where loose ends stuck
out, they writhed in the air, as if they were alive and reaching out for
things around him.
The Captain turned slowly in his chair to
face the wrapped figure. “And what have I told you about interrupting my
playing? That is dangerous as well, Wraps.”
The man
called Wraps took a less scolding tone. “Javair...this is your
ship. A gift from the Lost of Swaldune. It is your
command. But, one wrong note from that harp...and...well, its not
good. You know that.”
Javair smiled. “But, did
you hear it? It is meant to be played...it had a song that needed to
get out.”
Wraps sat down in a chair at the table full of
charts and maps. “Then leave the White Queen next time you want to
play her. Its not wise to play her here.”
Javair turned
his attention back to the maps and papers. “You are right. Of
course you are right. Consider me sufficiently advised, First
Mate.” And Javair laughed. He changed the topic. “Any
word from our informants about our friend...the Skull?”
Wraps seemed to tense up with the topic change.
“No. Not a thing. Have you been able to determine anything
from the maps and charts we captured?”
Javair shook his
head. “It tells me a lot about his travels before his
disappearance. But, that last trip...the one on which he
disappeared. Its not in these maps and charts. There’s no
record of it here...so I have no idea where he was going...or where he
ended up.”
Wraps poured himself a glass of wine in a large
golden cup. “We’ll find him.”
The corner of Javair’s
mouth curled up at one corner. “Or he’ll find us.”
(To be
continued...)
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Remember, these stories are to add depth to the storyline. They represent player-knowledge, not character-knowledge. This story was written to add depth to the Crimson Coast campain.
