On the road and from the outside, it's any city: all walls, travelers going to and fro, all the smells and sounds of a large, varied intersection of civilization. Inside, though, it manages to be every city. Not sure I'll ever wrap my mind around it. You hear stories, of course, and they're all contradictory, but now that I've spent a couple nights, I'm never going to doubt what I hear about this place.
We landed in a surprisingly cozy neighborhood of beached coral. This whole corner feels like a snapshot of a thriving underwater reef. Lush aquatic grasses line the streets, and the massive organic structures are lived-in and ageless. You'd expect them to be cracking and faded under the weight of time—each step feels impossible, uncanny—but they're hardy and vibrant as they must have ever been. Hard to imagine them being moreso.
I'm a little stunned that Guy hasn't been more excited to be here. There's a mushroom that blooms in abundance among the grasses and at the corners of the buildings, but they're uncharacteristically disinterested. Shit— they saw me writing about them. Have at it, I guess.
Commonplace toadstools. Non-toxic. Something big died here, and I'm ready to go, Fulton. Caravan's waiting.
A fair point. They're right to be a little on-edge and yes, we're leaving tomorrow. While I spent the past couple days asking around for a bead on the Caravan, Denove and Pipro went off and made friends with a certain fraternal organization. Won't name them here; this hasn't been the most secure journal of late. My B! - P!
Anyhow, with the brotherhood's noted distaste for psychedelia, Guy's had to keep mum on everything that makes them Fun. A real shame, too; I can't imagine what a steady microdose would do to open up these streets. Might even fire up a comms channel to the Big Dead they feel beneath us and share some secrets about the real shit, but I digress, I'm documenting Pip and Den's "networking."
One thrown arm wrestling competition later, half of the new friends are very happy, half less-so, and Pip has two new bodyguards who can't stand each-other. That'll work itself out, I'm sure. I'm just glad she ditched her ersatz napalm. I kept having a dream where we'd catch up to the Caravan and promptly detonate the back third of it. The thing she got in exchange is a lot spicier, though, so I won't be comfortable giving much more detail until the City's a distant memory.
Clearly, the longer you stick around, the more "City of Fools" becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
- Fulton
Hello and goodbye, City of Fools! We had a couple other carousing incidents that happened out of Fulton's line of sight, so we'll see how those play into things in months to come. This is my second play-session journal for Noora Rose's inspiring CHAIN MAIL. They're fun to write and play, so I imagine this'll become a monthly thing as the gang settles into their life on the Caravan.
Speaking of the gang, here's a brief intro! I love them all and am prepping for funnel-related devastation.
- Fulton (he/him) is a Professional Turncoat. A drug-addled spendthrift, he picked up the journaling habit in his last war as a way to calm his nerves at the prospect of being found out. He keeps himself presentable and makes a good face for the outfit, at least until someone he betrayed recognizes him. That's one of the perks of hopping a caravan into the outer spheres.
- Denove (they/them) is a Polybody Brigadier, number 11. They keep a stoic façade, but having lived, died, and repeated ten times before, they have fragments of their former selves. Not memories, exactly, but emotions and sensations that belong to someone else. They desperately want this to be their last go-round, but are somewhat doubtful.
- Pipro (she/her) is a Pyro-Alchemist. She's, you know, a little explosive. Eager to push a plan into motion, even at great and horrible risk with lasting consequence. Most recently, she pawned off four jars of homemade napalm in exchange for a slightly damaged (and wildly prohibited) radiation-gun she knew how to fix. For all her bluster and bombast, she knows how to slink into a crowd and disappear when she needs to.
- Nico Tib (he/they) is a Ziggurat Huckster. A poor man's rich-man, he is over-the-top ostentatious (think Dan Flashes) and pushy, and it gets him into a lot of trouble. He started the game with next to nothing after a scam gone wrong, and he's wildly jealous of the successes his travelling companions have had.
- Fun Guy (they/he/she) is a Psychopharmycologist. Always in a good mood, they are a researched scholar on medicinal mushrooms, and they let their research overtake everything else to the point of curious naiveté. Long hair, loose clothes, you know who I'm talking about. They are also the financier of this trip to the Caravan.
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