Final Fantasy: Numenera

Game Master Kassil

It started off as a regular day in Shallamas; a haul of numenera brought in a few days before that still needed sifted through and split into piles of useful devices, useless oddities, and potentially valuable relics, consuming everyone associated with the ruin scavengers. The sun was high overhead by the time Til, Yel, and Olly got a chance for a break; even then, there was no time to go far when there were still several crates of junk to sift through for treasures.

The first sign that they wouldn't be getting back to work came when an Echo - one of the phantom events that repeat the past within the walls of Shallamas - began to play out around them; or at least that's what they all assumed at first, before swirling sparks of silver-blue energy began to flare off the ground, rapidly building into a storm of strange energy that tore a hole in the world, with a powerful wind dragging them in. Yel and Til stood no chance against the sudden pull, caught off-guard and off-balance, sending them both tumbling into the breach. Olly held firm a few moments, until it overcame his strength and dragged him after the other two.

Falling in brought a flare of silvery light, and then darkness and a sense of impossible speed, whipping through an utterly lightless void.

It came to a sudden end, spilling the three out into the middle of a field of thick green plantlife, something between grass and moss, with vibrantly colored flowers cropping up here and there, and no other creatures nearby.

In the distance - north, if the oddly blue-tinted sun is in the early afternoon rather than the late morning - rises a wall of white stone, wrapped around what might be a town and some kind of a castle. Farms cling to the outside of the walls, as if hesitant to go far from the promise of safety. Movement suggests humanoid figures, although the distance is too far to tell exactly what they might be.

To the west, a smudge of heavier green smears the horizon; to the south and east the plains extend into the distance.

Til, Yel, and Olly seem to be unhurt, if somewhat shaken by the sudden change in scenery. What do they do?

There's a shocked, gravelly holler from somewhere behind the others; it cuts off sharply with a thud as Olleand hits the (thankfully soft) overgrown floor hands-and-face-first. As soon as his back half flops down and he realises he's on solid ground, he pushes himself up and staggers to his feet, his face already rearranging itself into an expression of mild outrage. This might have more effect if he didn't have bits of moss stuck to his face and hair.

Olly turns a slow 360 degrees, surveying this new landscape in sullen silence, and then gives an angry grunt and turns back on the two others that landed first. For a second, it looks as if he's about to say something - then he clamps his jaw shut with an audible clack of teeth, and studies them to see how alive they are first. He does not look happy.

Yel finds herself spat out of the aether with some nontrivial amount of momentum. She impacts the ground on her side, arms already brought up to protect her head, and rolls a couple times before fetching up against a half-rotten tree stump with a muffled curse.

Rising to her feet, her movement gives an impression more adolescent heron than human - all gangling limbs and balance that seems like it shouldn't quite work, until with a flap, it does. "Whatever you did, Vi, that had kick." The lack of familiar surroundings visibly begins to parse. "Vi...?" The fellow scavenger is nowhere to be seen. A too-quick glance in the direction from whence they were thrown; no obvious return route. "Glitch."

She takes a more careful look at the two who are here with her.

Til tumbles a fair distance in the high grass before coming to a halt, further from Yel and Olly than they are from each other. She lies there for a moment, staring up at the sky of an unfamiliar world, before sitting up and rubbing her head with her good hand. She hauls herself to her feet, toolbelt jangling. She cracks her neck, and brushes herself off from the overalls on up.

After looking around, she walks towards group, rubbing idly at the scars on her good arm. "Where in all the planes of Yerta have we ended up?"

Yel makes a face. "Wouldn't know, never been to Yerta." She half-turns from Tilansy to brush moss and half-rotted splinters off her clothing, checking the shape of tools in their multitude of pockets as she goes. A familiar process, she hardly need think about it.

"We could still be on our home world, just really far away." Shading her eyes with a fine-fingered hand, she frowns into the sky. "Need to see the moon to be sure. With magnification, if I can get it."

Well, alright - the others both look more or less unscathed. However, they also both seem just as confused as he is - and no one's taking credit, either, which leaves him in the unfortunate situation of having nobody to rightfully punch. At his sides his hands uncurl from fists, and Olleand falls back on cooperation.

"You," he begins, jabbing a finger in Yel's direction. "You can wayfind?" His voice is like sandpaper, but he looks hopeful.

Each of you can give me a Navigation, Perception, Geography, or similar skill check, if you wish, to see if you can figure out where you are. You can also give me a skill check - Numenera, Physics, Dimensions, or whatever you want to try - to see if you can identify what happened to you. This is a Blind check, meaning you don't know what your target number is.

At the moment, there does not seem to be a moon in the sky, just the curiously blue sun. The plantlife underfoot is producing a smell somewhere between fresh-cut grass and vanilla where your arrival and movement has caused damage to the moss-grass.

Perception to determine if she recognizes this place from anywhere she's heard of, on the Ninth World or beyond: 1d20 ⇒ 5

The novelty of falling through a portal has faded, and Til finds the possibility that she's stranded on an alien world troubling. While Olly looks to Yel for help, she examines the place she finds herself in. She looks around at the plantlife, the plains, the nearby settlement, and (carefully) at the sun, trying to recognize this place from any fable or traveler's tale she's heard.

Yel wobbles a hand noncommittally in response to Olleand's question. "Some. I wouldn't want to go into the desert or out of sight of land with only my own direction to go on. But I might be able to figure about how far away we are from anything familiar. To within a factor of ten, say." She seems unconcerned that this may be less than reassuring to her companions.

The lanky girl looks around in more detail, pacing here and there as she looks for signs of the familiar or anything she may have heard about.

Today's flex skill is Navigation, and Yel would very much like to figure out where the party is: Navigation (Trained, 1 Effort): 1d20 ⇒ 15
And to a lesser extent, how we got here: Numenera (Trained): 1d20 ⇒ 2

Olly regards the flagging hand with disapproval instead of directing that look right at Yel's face. It's not the answer he was hoping for, but he's already well on the road to accepting three things: that this is what's happening now, that their situation is not instantly solvable, and that his luck relies heavily on staying in the good books of anyone who can lead the way.

He begins moodily picking bits of plant life out of his hair.

"We will stay together," he says, nodding once at Tilansy to make a point that he means her, too. It sounds nothing like a suggestion.

The scent of the crushed greenery is getting pretty heavy around the three of you.

Under anything like ordinary circumstances, Yel would bristle at the assumption. As it is, she gives a grudging nod. "Sun's riding higher in the sky than it was in Shallamas. That means we're at least hundreds of miles north, if we didn't get shoved across the equator. Or thousands if we did. Tell you which after nightfall, if the sky stays clear." Aside from Til and Olly, hundreds to thousands of miles from the nearest people who might give a good godsdamn about her. She could not afford to assert her independence, here. "If we're on the same plane," she adds moodily. "Stars ought have something to say about that, too."

Yel rummages a bit inside the small messenger-bag strapped securely to her right side. "I've got a meal and half a canteen left. Shall we investigate the settlement up there?" She indicates the walled city with a tilt of her head.

In response to Olly, Til smirks. "Suits my purposes," she says, which is more or less true. The tough guy routine rankles, but she's found it's best to smile, nod, and do as she pleases.

To Yel: "Sounds like the best of a bad set of options. We're helping no one standing here. Who knows what we'll meet over there, but only one way to find out."

Without waiting for either of them, she shoulders her toolbag and sets off in the direction of the settlement, comically large wrench clanking at her belt.

Nose wrinkling, Olly gives a distracted grunt that was probably supposed to be affirmative and trudges after Tilansy, giving a brief come-on wave to Yel. Both of them sound like they have good plans, which suits him just fine because he has only one plan and that is to follow someone who has a better one.

As he walks, he plucks a bit of moss-grass out of his hair, gives it a curious sniff, and furtively dabs it on his tongue. He knows you're not supposed to taste-test suspicious plants, but... well, it's a general kind of "you", and he figures that doesn't always have to apply to him. Not every time.

The three of you trudge north across open fields of greenery, none of it particularly familiar, until you get close enough to the castle-city to better make it out. The inhabitants of the farms certainly seem to be human, much more uniform in appearance than you're used to; none of them show any signs of augmentation via numenera, and they're all easily a half a head shorter than most folks you know. None of them look up at you more than briefly as you pass from the grassy fields onto a hard-packed dirt road that leads up to an arched gateway into the castle-city proper, all too intent on their duties around the farms.

As you near the entryway, a woman in well-made metal armor looks up and salutes in your direction with a spear that has a green and gold banner hanging from just below a crossguard.

When the guard speaks, there's a split-second lag before you hear her voice, as if something were taking place between the sound leaving her mouth and reaching your ears. Her words are plain, unaccented Truth, familiar to all of you. "Hail, strangers! Welcome to Corneria! What business brings you across the wilds to the gates of our town?"

Til is weary after some miles of tromping overland, and the guard's time-lagged address catches her off-guard. She's reflexively curious about what could be causing the lag, but moreover she feels uncertain speaking for this pair of people she doesn't know all that well. She looks behind her for her companions, though they're a few strides behind her yet.

First thoughts on what could be causing the lag Numenera (trained): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12

Having so far hung back behind the other two, Olly glares over their shoulders at the guard for a moment as she speaks. His eyes flit from eye contact and down at her mouth, then down at her spear - and then back up. Olly is not the kind to waste his scarce brainpower on a mystery someone cleverer can figure out, and so all he's interested in here is the spear.

He places one meaty hand lightly on Til's shoulder, the other on Yel's, and very gently nudges them apart as if to suggest they ought to let him take centre. Guards are just glorified hired muscle, which he can relate to quite well.

"We are lost," he declares. "We are looking for-" a glance either side, at Til and Yel "-a map. Or someone who knows stars. Or a place to stay at night." Olleand pauses, running a tongue over his lower lip. "It is harsh out there. You know."