Ekreture
Scrawl Banditta
Cerera
Sep
Joshua TamashiiNOTE: This RP is a continuation of one from the Bethesda.net forums. We are moving because the forums there are too clunky for dedicated writing. The story so far can be found here:
https://bethesda.net/community/topic/37830/in-from-the-fog-a-far-harbor-roleplay-ic-thread
New RP'ers are welcome if they'd like to jump into the story.
Prologue
The fog condensers of The Harbor gave off an eerie blue glow in the blackness of the night as several men and women patrolled the top of the hull. Their eyes constantly scanned the darkness beyond the protected border of the town watching for any signs of movement in the fog. Every errant twitch of movement or noise was enough to send them into a heightened state of alert. The hull was strong, but not impenetrable, and so their fears were more than justified. God help them if anything from the Deep Fog wandered up here.
Behind the safety of the hull, the tiny town of Far Harbor was huddled together on the dock. Its gnarled and crumbling ancient buildings seemed to be precariously perched on this outcropping of civilization on an otherwise otherworldly island. Lanterns of fish oil hung in the streets and from the windows of houses which were firmly locked and boarded against the encroaching night. Nobody liked to be out much after dark, aside from the few old obstinate fisherman who continued to ply their trade on the dark waters of the Harbor even the sun had long since gone down. Not that there was ever much sun to be had on the island, even during the height of the day.
There was one exception to this rule however, and that was The Last Plank. Even at night, the bar was often filled with patrons. Although rarely was the mood in anyway jovial. Most of the harbor men and women who sat down in its torn, bug eaten booths and rickety chairs and tables were only interested in one thing, having a drink in peace and trying to relax after a hard day on the water trying to earn their keep. More often than not they simply drank their choice of poison in silence while staring out across the sea through the dirty windows of the bar. Occasionally someone might start up an old story about how things used to be better, when the Fog wasn’t covering the island, or even when they could still get new condensers. And that might elicit a few clinks of glasses as they made a toast to the good times. But that was only fleeting nostalgia, and never lasted long.
On this particular night, Mitch was behind the counter of the bar, cleaning a few glasses and rearranging the mishmash supply of booze on the shelves behind him. The Last Plank was sparse tonight, and the few drinkers he had were not the talkative types. Choosing instead to brood while nursing their beers or glass of whiskey. He was also pretty sure Longfellow had fallen asleep in his favorite chair.
Suddenly the door to the bar creaked open, and someone stepped inside, closing it behind them. He was wearing some sort of ratty trench-coat with his collar up and and his hat down. Mitch wished he’d have lit a few more candles in the place because he couldn’t get a good look at the man’s face. At least, he assumed it was a man. He was more than a little suspicious of the newcomer. He knew everyone on the island, it was a small town after all and they all came to The Last Plank at least once a week and now more often than that with times being what they were. He knew for a fact nobody dressed like that. Most likely he was a mainlander who’d docked at the harbor for the night. Although why anybody would knowingly do so was beyond him.
Still, Mitch shrugged it off and gave a cheery smile as the man sat down, everyone was welcome in The Last Plank. Harborman or no.
“Welcome friend,” Mitch said warmly, “Can I getcha something? Whiskey? Ice-cold Beer? Or maybe a Vim? Only place you’ll find cold drinks on the entire island. I can guarantee that. Or are you looking for something to eat instead? Still got some tasty fried mirelurk chunks Debby made today I could warm up for ya. Ain’t gourmet but it’ll fill the belly.”
The stranger was silent for a few moments, and slowly reached for his pocket to pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Mitch’s blood turned to ice as he noticed that the fingers of the man weren’t flesh, but instead mechanical.
The stranger lifted the cigarette to his mouth and lit it up, illuminating his previously shadowed face in amber glow. And now Mitch could also see that it wasn’t just his hand that was inhuman.
“Well I don’t need food or drink, but you can still help me,” The stranger said in a gritted voice, with the cigarette now clenched in his mouth, “I’m looking for some information. I need to know what happened to a place called.....Acadia.”
RP Information:
Background: Acadia is gone, all there having mysteriously vanished one day without warning or notice, and without a trace of them remaining. The residents of Far Harbor are unsure of what to make of their sudden disappearance. Some are fearful that it means they might be next, others suspicious of DiMa and his kind are glad they’re gone, and some of the more forward thinking are worried about Far Harbor’s future. Without Acadia, the condenser technology is lost to them. And while they can maintain the ones they have, sooner or later, they’re going to stop working entirely. And then Far Harbor will finally be claimed by the Fog. The town is living on borrowed time.
To make things worse strange noises, well stranger than normal anyway, have been heard from the Fog, eerie chanting and drum beats, along with the odd lights and figures moving just on the edge of vision. Worse still, nobody has heard any word from any of the crazy old stubborn homesteaders that used to still live out in the fog, and anybody that goes out to try and figure out what's going on never comes back. So folks have stopped trying. Creatures that attack the hull appear to be getting more aggressive and, most terrifyingly, bigger. Even the very fog itself appears to be thicker, as if it's choking out everything in it.
The residents of Far Harbor have to face the terrible truth: The Fog is getting worse, and it's coming for them.
Characters
The plan for this is to mostly be a character driven settlement RP. With a little mix of horror, mystery, and survival thrown in. Multiple characters are possible (they can be affiliated, for example a family or a small gang, or be completely independent of one other).
Primarily your character will be either a native Harborman/Harbor woman, or someone just arriving there from The Commonwealth or elsewhere. No one will be living in the Fog or living anywhere else on the island (initially) however.
Far Harbor is a small town, so get cozy.
Name:
Age:
Race/Gender:
Brief physical description or picture:
Clothing/Armor/Weapons:
Brief Background:
Rules
General Rule: Common sense RP rules apply. Don’t control other people’s characters without their consent, don’t play a god character with no flaws etc.
Dice-Rolling/Chance Situations: Occasionally in the RP, there will be times where a "roll-check" is used to add a level of unpredictability and impartiality to the RP. This is simple system just to add a bit more fun for both myself and the RP'ers and so its not very complex in order to not impede the story. I will determine chances of success and try to be as consistent as I can about it. I will let RP'ers know the chances before an action is taken so they can decide whether or not they want to proceed. Again, it is a simple system and not intended to be a full DnD style RP.
I use Random.org to 'roll' a dice (shown under the 'Games' tab) and always take the first number I roll. The site has a good explanation of the method they use to ensure randomness if anyone is curious.
My intent is to make this a pretty casual RP. Nothing too intense. Write what you can and have fun with it.
https://bethesda.net/community/topic/37830/in-from-the-fog-a-far-harbor-roleplay-ic-thread
New RP'ers are welcome if they'd like to jump into the story.
Prologue
The fog condensers of The Harbor gave off an eerie blue glow in the blackness of the night as several men and women patrolled the top of the hull. Their eyes constantly scanned the darkness beyond the protected border of the town watching for any signs of movement in the fog. Every errant twitch of movement or noise was enough to send them into a heightened state of alert. The hull was strong, but not impenetrable, and so their fears were more than justified. God help them if anything from the Deep Fog wandered up here.
Behind the safety of the hull, the tiny town of Far Harbor was huddled together on the dock. Its gnarled and crumbling ancient buildings seemed to be precariously perched on this outcropping of civilization on an otherwise otherworldly island. Lanterns of fish oil hung in the streets and from the windows of houses which were firmly locked and boarded against the encroaching night. Nobody liked to be out much after dark, aside from the few old obstinate fisherman who continued to ply their trade on the dark waters of the Harbor even the sun had long since gone down. Not that there was ever much sun to be had on the island, even during the height of the day.
There was one exception to this rule however, and that was The Last Plank. Even at night, the bar was often filled with patrons. Although rarely was the mood in anyway jovial. Most of the harbor men and women who sat down in its torn, bug eaten booths and rickety chairs and tables were only interested in one thing, having a drink in peace and trying to relax after a hard day on the water trying to earn their keep. More often than not they simply drank their choice of poison in silence while staring out across the sea through the dirty windows of the bar. Occasionally someone might start up an old story about how things used to be better, when the Fog wasn’t covering the island, or even when they could still get new condensers. And that might elicit a few clinks of glasses as they made a toast to the good times. But that was only fleeting nostalgia, and never lasted long.
On this particular night, Mitch was behind the counter of the bar, cleaning a few glasses and rearranging the mishmash supply of booze on the shelves behind him. The Last Plank was sparse tonight, and the few drinkers he had were not the talkative types. Choosing instead to brood while nursing their beers or glass of whiskey. He was also pretty sure Longfellow had fallen asleep in his favorite chair.
Suddenly the door to the bar creaked open, and someone stepped inside, closing it behind them. He was wearing some sort of ratty trench-coat with his collar up and and his hat down. Mitch wished he’d have lit a few more candles in the place because he couldn’t get a good look at the man’s face. At least, he assumed it was a man. He was more than a little suspicious of the newcomer. He knew everyone on the island, it was a small town after all and they all came to The Last Plank at least once a week and now more often than that with times being what they were. He knew for a fact nobody dressed like that. Most likely he was a mainlander who’d docked at the harbor for the night. Although why anybody would knowingly do so was beyond him.
Still, Mitch shrugged it off and gave a cheery smile as the man sat down, everyone was welcome in The Last Plank. Harborman or no.
“Welcome friend,” Mitch said warmly, “Can I getcha something? Whiskey? Ice-cold Beer? Or maybe a Vim? Only place you’ll find cold drinks on the entire island. I can guarantee that. Or are you looking for something to eat instead? Still got some tasty fried mirelurk chunks Debby made today I could warm up for ya. Ain’t gourmet but it’ll fill the belly.”
The stranger was silent for a few moments, and slowly reached for his pocket to pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Mitch’s blood turned to ice as he noticed that the fingers of the man weren’t flesh, but instead mechanical.
The stranger lifted the cigarette to his mouth and lit it up, illuminating his previously shadowed face in amber glow. And now Mitch could also see that it wasn’t just his hand that was inhuman.
“Well I don’t need food or drink, but you can still help me,” The stranger said in a gritted voice, with the cigarette now clenched in his mouth, “I’m looking for some information. I need to know what happened to a place called.....Acadia.”
RP Information:
Background: Acadia is gone, all there having mysteriously vanished one day without warning or notice, and without a trace of them remaining. The residents of Far Harbor are unsure of what to make of their sudden disappearance. Some are fearful that it means they might be next, others suspicious of DiMa and his kind are glad they’re gone, and some of the more forward thinking are worried about Far Harbor’s future. Without Acadia, the condenser technology is lost to them. And while they can maintain the ones they have, sooner or later, they’re going to stop working entirely. And then Far Harbor will finally be claimed by the Fog. The town is living on borrowed time.
To make things worse strange noises, well stranger than normal anyway, have been heard from the Fog, eerie chanting and drum beats, along with the odd lights and figures moving just on the edge of vision. Worse still, nobody has heard any word from any of the crazy old stubborn homesteaders that used to still live out in the fog, and anybody that goes out to try and figure out what's going on never comes back. So folks have stopped trying. Creatures that attack the hull appear to be getting more aggressive and, most terrifyingly, bigger. Even the very fog itself appears to be thicker, as if it's choking out everything in it.
The residents of Far Harbor have to face the terrible truth: The Fog is getting worse, and it's coming for them.
Characters
The plan for this is to mostly be a character driven settlement RP. With a little mix of horror, mystery, and survival thrown in. Multiple characters are possible (they can be affiliated, for example a family or a small gang, or be completely independent of one other).
Primarily your character will be either a native Harborman/Harbor woman, or someone just arriving there from The Commonwealth or elsewhere. No one will be living in the Fog or living anywhere else on the island (initially) however.
Far Harbor is a small town, so get cozy.
Name:
Age:
Race/Gender:
Brief physical description or picture:
Clothing/Armor/Weapons:
Brief Background:
Rules
General Rule: Common sense RP rules apply. Don’t control other people’s characters without their consent, don’t play a god character with no flaws etc.
Dice-Rolling/Chance Situations: Occasionally in the RP, there will be times where a "roll-check" is used to add a level of unpredictability and impartiality to the RP. This is simple system just to add a bit more fun for both myself and the RP'ers and so its not very complex in order to not impede the story. I will determine chances of success and try to be as consistent as I can about it. I will let RP'ers know the chances before an action is taken so they can decide whether or not they want to proceed. Again, it is a simple system and not intended to be a full DnD style RP.
I use Random.org to 'roll' a dice (shown under the 'Games' tab) and always take the first number I roll. The site has a good explanation of the method they use to ensure randomness if anyone is curious.
My intent is to make this a pretty casual RP. Nothing too intense. Write what you can and have fun with it.