Version 1.01
The catalog of forms is infinite. For as long as forms have yet to find their city, new cities will continue to be born. The end of the city begins at the point where forms exhaust their variety and come apart.
At the start of each journey, the players choose the contents of the Almanac and the Atlas to determine what's between them and Cerebos. The Almanac consists of six Event tables and the Atlas consists of six Stop Tables. The tables below have different Danger levels and tones, so go with whatever feels right.
Make note of the Stop and Event tables in your Almanac and Atlas, numbering them 1–6. Once the journey begins, you will occasionally be directed to roll on the Almanac or Atlas. To do so, first roll 1d6 to determine which table to roll. Next, roll another 1d6 to see which entry on that table you encounter.
If you're playing face to face and you have access to a duplexing printer, each Events and Stops table is formatted so that it can be printed on a single double-sided page; to create your own Almanac and Atlas, you can mix and match pages. Blank and form-fillable Events/Stops sheets are available via the Penguin King Games website at penguinking.com if you wish to add your own tables to the mix.
(Note that if you're printing the HTML version of this document, you may need to fiddle with the scaling and margins to fit three entries per side; the PDF will generally be better your better option.)
Otherwise, jot down a couple of lists like the ones below. In conjunction with the hyperlinked tables of contents in the preceding section, you should be able to quickly look up any result you need.
A rain of teeth quickly sweeps the horizon. Are those canis nimbus approaching? The question is soon answered by the clattering of millions of teeth falling from the sky. They pile up on the tracks, forcing trains to a crawl while the air is punctured by the crunching of bone and metal.
The sound, the darkness, and the crawl of the journey through the storm can do strange things to a person. Some people say the teeth speak, beckoning them to dissolution (or in one memorable case, a very long game of rummy).
Danger: 4; Keepsake: Lucky teeth that provide a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone. This die can be used on a roll made by any traveller, for good or for ill. As they say in the poem, “Teeth at night, traveller's delight / teeth in morning, travellers are mourning.”
A chill wind blows from the north, forming crystals of ice where it touches. At first it's enjoyable; the sparkling blue and purple crystals scatter light throughout the region, rendering it a kaleidoscope of light. But then the cold starts to set in, and soon enough the windows of the train are covered in ice. Each breath streaks white smoke in the air, and the chill begins to sink into the bones.
Some travellers threaten to stop the train, certain their destination isn't worth the risk. Others demand to plow through the ice accumulating on the tracks, taking care to keep heating systems running and exits clear.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A warm memory that provides +1 rank to an existing Trait.
The gas arrives suddenly, blanketing the train. Lights spark within the gas, bright and roaring, only to die a moment later. The tracks weep under the strain as the temperature increases, each passenger accosted with new thoughts: A hammer, an anvil, tempered steel.
A weed on the edge of the tracks meets a light and collapses into small red flames. When they fade the plant is a sword. The thoughts come faster now, thoughts of your strengths and the strengths of others, how those strengths may be grown. Which of these strengths will you need for your journey?
Danger: 2; Keepsake: The memory of a stranger, which allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
The shaking is almost imperceptible at first, but it's soon clear the train is being rocked by wind from vents alongside the tracks. It's possible that the train will end up derailed. Perhaps more concerning, the wind is accompanied by a haunting whistle and faint, inaudible words.
Of more immediate consequence, however, is what to do. Should the train be derailed, how should you get it back onto the track? If it tips, who will help the injured and tell the train a story to calm it down? Be careful not to be picked up by the wind yourself; it's been said a person can travel hundreds of miles on the Whistling Winds, and not all destinations are friendly.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A newfound respect for one's body that provides a new rank 1 Trait.
Journeys are, by nature, liminal times. Participants try new things and become new people. That is not to say that travelers cannot long for home. This longing can extend to the crew, who voluntarily live in these in-between times. They are not immune to a cozy home, a freshly cooked meal, and a real bed.
When the scent of cinnamon bread wafts through the air, it brings the taste of home. While you, as travelers, may be able to resist, those on longer journeys may find themselves concentrating more on the bread than the train. If they want to stop, who will start the train again? Perhaps it might be better to commandeer the train until the nostalgia passes.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A rumbling in the gut that allows a one-time reroll on the Atlas – as long as the first Stop does not have an abundance of bread.
Turning into a tornado is not recommended. One only needs to consider the case of Maryon the Unwise. Everybody knows what happened to them. And yet, people still try. It's unknown whether this tornado wants to eat the train or destroy it, but it is impossible to ask. There are ways to stop these tornadoes: A virduz song, or sometimes an offering of yellow jasper. Others simply steer the train into inhospitable territory; no tornado will follow a train underground, after all.
Whatever is motivating this particular tornado, it is determined to ruin the tracks, which runs counter to your plans. You'd probably best do something about that.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A bracing breeze worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
Ants normally walk in lines. They do not, however, normally carry metal discs, pieces of colored ceramic, or small bits of cable. There's no reason for concern: if these ants are building a death ray, they are doing so far enough away that their destination isn't viewable from the train. On the other hand, they tend to become cross when they get on the train and the train's travel ruins their straight line. Of course they can't talk; don't be silly! They certainly know Morse Code, though. Don't you know that pedestrians have the right of way?
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A grim memory or tattered keepsake that provides +1 rank to an existing Trait.
What do griffins and house cats have in common? A love of warm places. To this end, two griffins have begun to tussle over the train's exhaust chimney. They don't particularly care about the passengers, but the large beasts have a habit of knocking one another off their preferred perch and screeching in a way that makes it hard to enjoy the local guitar player (or sleep). How long can this racket continue? Quite a while, it turns out, as griffins, being mythical, don't require sleep.
The same cannot be said for all the denizens of the train. The longer the screeching and rocking continues, the more tempers flare. One group wants to remove the griffins, while another, more ecologically minded group refuse to disturb their natural practices. No mythical beasts will exist if we keep chasing them off trains!
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A cluster of worn feathers that grants a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
Some say the “Night Parade of Abandoned Demons” is nothing more than a spectacle to distract travelers while thieves make sport. Others claim the Night Parade is more: demons with the faces of your close kin calling out, wishing for someone to take their place in the revel. Both parties agree: do not leave the train.
Ignore the visages of your loved ones, the sounds of suffering, and any offered delights. Whatever the Night Parade is, be it farce or a prison, whomever is heading the festivities does not share your interests. Close your eyes and look away. Do not listen to sweet and terrible songs. And above all, do not open the door when something knocks. On the other hand, hey – free palanquin ride!
Danger: 5; Keepsake: A healthy sense of alertness worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
At one point, a foolish businesswoman decided to make her fortune off the skins of the sand rays that glide silently underneath the Desert Sea. It didn't work, of course. The majestic creatures leaping next to the train are deadly hunters, and woe be unto anyone who thinks they can best these predators in their hunting ground.
You are welcome to feed the sand rays. Do not feed them anything that tastes of mint, or they will go mad. It is best to stick to simple food like escargot or goats. Should a ray knock into the train, be ready to free it lest the pack's frenzy instinct be roused.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A glimpse of nature, glorious and cruel, worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone. This die can be used on a roll made by any traveller.
Chandler beetles are some of the rare insects that have adapted to living on trains (and other traveling vehicles, in a pinch). Perhaps the entire species is possessed of an odd sort of wanderlust, or maybe they too are travelers in search of a destination. Whatever the reason, your train is infested with them. The beetles coat the ceiling and drip wax onto any traveller unfortunate enough to stand in the wrong place.
They also tend to bite if disturbed, so woe be unto you should they take up residence on the door in or out of your car. It is best to avoid a chandler beetles bite, as not only do they sting, but they have the power to make their targets forget. Perhaps the only positive to a chandler beetle infestation is that their wax makes for absolutely stunning candles.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: An illuminating candle that provides a new rank 1 Trait.
It was once a common practice for coal miners to take bat cameras with them into the mines. These bats were necessary for the morale of the workers and provided invaluable photographs for selling to amateur coal enthusiasts. Unfortunately, management is not fond of these creatures. Banned from the mines, the bats have a habit of swarming in dark places. Such as the cave the train is traveling through.
The bats themselves are harmless, but the flashbulbs are… to put it mildly, very annoying. Without humans to tell them when to photograph, the bats flash anytime they are startled or interested, which is quite often. In fact, one of the most common causes of flash is a preceding flash; this can result in a flash cascade.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: Photographs of the road ahead that allow a one-time reroll on the Atlas.
The rails gleam in the sunlight, the ivory of tempered bone running towards the horizon. This section is maintained by the Order of the Bone Rails; those anonymous penitents who devote their time to the integrity of the journey upon which they failed.
Each former traveler reveres the journey to Cerebos; it is transformative and holy. To this end, travelers are often assisted by the hooded figures. Food and drink is provided, and although silent, many report sleeping more soundly on the Bone Rails than before or since. Dreams on the Bone Rails are revealing; each traveler must face their reasons for undertaking this journey, and those who are found wanting are either taken by the Order or – especially the well-boned – are asked to demonstrate their sincerity with a small “donation” to the rails.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: Healthy bones worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
One of the strangest things about this strange journey is the maintenance of its rails. There is no company tasked to their care. It's as though nature Herself is assisting in the journey. The worms that reside next to the tracks slide slowly, forming orderly queues. Though more than two feet long, it is easy to get the impression they are harmless.
Although most travelers make it through the area with no incidents, once every seven years, the worms will climb into a train car and drag someone off. Nothing bad happens, per se: The worms just lack opposable thumbs and need to borrow a traveler's in order to fix the rails. Heavens, would you look at the time.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: Invigorating worm resin, still wet, worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
Trees are not railroad tracks. This is common sense. Trees grow upwards and don't like lumberjacks, whereas railroad tracks grow horizontally and are neutral as to one's vocation. So it is a bit odd to see ironwood knotting itself together and growing off the track, even being so polite as to size itself in accordance to the track's gauge. (Though it takes no position on the validity of switching to the New Imperial System).
Such an oddity raises many questions. Was the wooden track made by someone, or did it grow that way? And perhaps more importantly, where is it going? Will the end of this new track lead to a Stream of Laughter, or perhaps a Hole of Mild Self-Loathing?
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A vague map carved on a spar of ironwood that allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
The smooth singing of the train's movement is interrupted with a series of jostles and oddly timed metal squeals, which the knowledgeable traveler may be able to recognize as the Course Mode. Oh, there are such promises hidden in the high-pitched message. Joys, delights, and gorgeous days await those who follow the message's instructions. Unfortunately, the actual instructions are encoded or otherwise garbled.
There is no danger in attempting to decode the message. At least not directly. Unfortunately, the message tends to find its way into the mind whether the listeners desire it or not. All who hear the Message carry the Message. Those who wish to contain the Message must stop the journey of any who hear it – or at least confirm they've reached the correct interpretation.
Danger: 5; Keepsake: A rattled-out tale of the road ahead that allows a one-time reroll on the Atlas.
Most people agree that trains should not be on fire, as it makes traveling rather uncomfortable. In fact, this is so universally agreed upon that any proper train will have measures to prevent unexpected spontaneous combustion. They are rarely as prepared for planned combustion.
The trackside mirrors are just another oddity until the sun reaches its height, where it aligns perfectly to reflect such light and heat to create rails of solid luminescence. And where there's smoke, soon enough there's fire. Sure enough, flames begin leaping throughout the train.
Danger: 5 Keepsake: A flash of insight mixed with panic that provides a new rank 1 Trait.
Passengers aren't the only ones tested on this trip. Conductors have their own challenges, stories of which are whispered at stations between passing trains. The Rail Labyrinth looms over the flat plains, bare of potential landmarks. Criss-crossed in every conceivable direction, the rails contain no direction markers, only unmarked and worn switches (with no indicators as to which rails they control). The sun does not move overhead, and the train jostles as it abruptly shifts paths to avoid the perils of the maze.
Make no mistake: passengers are not necessary for the traversal of the Rail Labyrinth. This is the Conductor's journey. All the same, should you not wish to be trapped for eternity, it may be wise to assist the Conductor. Scouting? Perhaps persuading her to not test the Labyrinth at all? In any case, watch out for unsecured baggage.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A newfound respect for infrastructure engineers that provides a new rank 1 Trait and a knowing smile from the conductor.
Activating the switches here open up spurs to other worlds. Adapt the next Stop to the appropriate theme. If that theme is already in effect, the train enters a desert of the unexpected instead.
The arch straddles the tracks, so black it must be made of pure jet. Runes are etched onto the arch's surface, sentences worn away by wind, rain, and the occasional Rune Eater. They flare to life as the train passes into a world with rusted skies. Perhaps it was the doing of one of the strange, shapeless inhabitants, who are so chatty with their telepathy.
Regardless, it is probably best to find the way home, as the freckle-mark constellations reflecting off oily pools are not the stars you know. There's also the matter of the train becoming less train-shaped with each passing minute.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A persistent dream of the traveler's new life on the oily shores worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
Some discoveries just invite questions: did somebody run tracks through a giant stone head, or was the head built around pre-existing tracks? Also: why? Inside the stone noggin (which bears an odd resemblance to a fellow traveler), monkey-like creatures with scissors for hands scamper about on impossibly colored towers, dropping near only to hiss your deepest, most denied thoughts.
They do not flaunt these thoughts, but any reaction causes the monkeys to shriek in delight and snip their sharp little hands. The more emotional their target, the more the monkey-beings crowd. It's unlikely their intentions are pure.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: An unexpected scar that reduces the traveler's Momentum by 1.
The World Beast's orifices, which touch a dozen worlds, are all charted. The circulatory system in which the train is now traveling has little chance of being absorbed. However, overzealous cells stick to the windows before they are swept off. For the most part, those wielding the brooms, the Moonstone Caretakers, ignore the train and its inhabitants.
Despite the lack of contact, you understand the World-Beast has been hurt. The Moonstone Caretakers do not speak, but colonize. You could help, trading flesh for new flesh. Take the spur to the Broken Capillary and repair the bridge. This is very important and very clearly true, but there is no Broken Capillary on the map. So why do you feel such an urge to disembark?
Danger: 5; Keepsake: A new organ that provides a new rank 1 physiological Trait.
The train emerges from a tunnel into a verdant wilderness. There are insects as large as arms, and the kinkajao produce a song that aids digestion. The green of the treetops is mixed with a dizzying array of flowers, some larger in diameter than the train's axles. Even the rails are more alive, the wood somehow a deeper brown than before.
Something tall on the horizon is following the train. It sways with the rhythm of footfalls. Closer examination reveals it to be a very tall hat. With no wind to knock them over, they come exceptionally large down here. But who is wearing it? And why can't the train leave the jungle?
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A hat suited for the future to the tune of one free Trait check reroll.
This network of submerged glass tunnels is lit by the calming light of the Guardians. These jellyfish are large enough to resemble islands. Smaller spots of bioluminescence shimmer in the darkness.
As beautiful as the seatubes are, they require constant maintenance, and the track forward is flooded. The airlocks have been sealed, but fixing that particular tunnel is not a high priority; it only takes nine minutes to go across. Everyone from around here can hold their breath for ten.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: The scent of the sea lingers, a reminder of unseen lands and non-lands. The impression of the world yet to come allows a one-time reroll on the Atlas.
GRANDMOTHER SHADE: And so the train carrying the travelers from the City by the Sea passed the Shattered Light—
BOY: What's the Shattered Light?
GRANDMOTHER SHADE: [impatient] It's the soul of Coyote, the master of Tricksters, hush. Coyote saw the passengers and declared “Oh what a story could come of this!” and he took them into his realm to be given to us all.
BOY: Do the people like being our story? What did they do?
GRANDMOTHER SHADE: These people were not wise as we are wise. They fought Coyote, so intent they were on their destination.
BOY: [snorts] You can't FIGHT Coyote.
GRANDMOTHER SHADE: Nevertheless they did.
BOY: But they lost, right? They're still in our story – in our books?
GRANDMOTHER SHADE: What makes you think a person can be only one thing at a time?
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A mistrust of coyotes, past and future, that allows the traveler to re-narrate a single Trait check for any traveler. The check must still stick to the rules established in the roll's category (e.g. Success, Setback, etc.)
Nobody sees the Bear of Bad News arrive, nor do they see her move. But her porcelain body communicates anxiety, fear, and eventually despair. The smoke drifting from her cracked skin smells like the first time you were lost. The longer she remains, the more you realize how little you know about your traveling companions. Perhaps they are working against you. Perhaps this train is not going to the Crystal City at all, and is actually a prison for those discontent with the City by the Sea.
Continuing the journey would be Bad News.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A lightness in the head and looseness of thoughts driven by giddy anxiety that allow a one-time reroll on the Almanac or a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check.
A creature, naked, bestial, who, squatting upon the ground, holds his heart in his hands, and eats of it. Once upon a time, in a land whose name has been forgotten, a young man lost his lover. So bereft was he that he removed his heart. As the years passed, he grew less like himself and more like something else.
Although unable to speak, he senses the grief that replenishes his still-beating heart. He sinks his teeth into it with a hunger beyond mere sustenance, never satiated. Do you feel sad? Is anyone carrying a book that contains the word “beach”? Many things can catch the creature's attention, and your emotions would slake his hunger as well as the ones he's lost.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A crescent-shaped copper charm that must have been dropped by the strange creature. It is worth +1 rank in an existing Trait.
The trip to Cerebos takes you through many strange lands. This is not one of them, but it is dreadfully hot. Many passengers have divested themselves of an article of clothing or two, and no few now reveal tails, gills, or, in one case, a music box in the place of a heart. Passengers share lemonade and winter memories to stay cool. Two newcomers, either unaware of or immune to the implications, have also shed their skins, rudely exposing their internal organs.
Soon the car is buzzing. Ejecting fellow ticket-holders would be against the Rules of the Rail. But otherwise the Conductor may stop the train or implement racoon patrols. That would result in a snack-less journey. Unacceptable.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A swig from a canteen mite lowers the traveler's Momentum by 1. It's bitter, but refreshing.
It is difficult to ignore the small man in his top hat, purple coat, and glasses made of stained-glass. The flask at his side fills the air with licorice whenever he drinks, and a pistol so ornate that it could be dismissed as ornamental hangs from a beaded belt.
He gambles, he claims, out of kindness. Those Objects you carry can be a burden. Would you perhaps give him the opportunity to demonstrate? But it isn't truly a gamble unless he might lose. Should you win, you may find yourself in possession of one (1) future, slightly used.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A pair of stained glass spectacles that allows the traveler to re-narrate a single Trait check for any traveler. They're a fine novelty, but d—ed inconvenient. The check must still stick to the rules established in the roll's category (e.g. Success, Setback, etc.)
A patchwork figure made of lost clothing has set up shop in an unused car. On her table are spices and tea to delight all the senses – including memory. She seeks to peddle in Cerebos; having never been there, she desires feedback from those who know of the Crystal City.
Several teapots sit on the table, the liquid inside them pleasantly warm despite the apparent lack of a heat source. The smell of finding a friend for the first time mingles with the bitter note of being awoken too soon. The tea evokes memories and a sense of être-vu. Be careful! Taste is highly subjective. It would be a shame if you ended up trapped in another time.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A spicy blend from the merchant's homeland that reduces one's next Damage taken by 1. The burn reminds the taster of hopes yet to be realized.
A woman with a hawk is nothing to be alarmed about. There is, after all, a man with a sloth as well as a cat with a pet man on board. The woman is pleasant enough. She shares trinkets and stories of her travels, such as a stone carved into a song and a piece of iridescent phosphophyllite. The hawk is less cordial.
Perhaps the subject of its ire has broken the rules of the train. Or maybe they are carrying something stolen: an identity, a memory not their own, or a package of chocolate? Whatever the trouble, it had best be addressed before the hawk (and its well-armed mistress) decide you're all accessories to this crime and she turns you over to the constables.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A persistent cough that allows its owner to deal a traveler 1 Damage and change one of that traveler's rank 1 Traits. It's probably not contagious.
The train enters a stone forest. Pillars of peach and rusted rock whip past, each a fragment of the Red Mesa. Hermits' shacks top the tallest towers, each inhabited by a civil servant who seeks repentance through isolation and rail maintenance.
The faded maps of the Theologarchy mark this passage as the Redeemer's Line, for it traces the footsteps of Larch, the Third Savior. More colloquially, the canyon is known as the Alley of 1,000 Sheets, for it is here that the holy vestments of the Theologarchy are hung to dry. Passage among the dirtied laundry of an entire faith is rarely pleasant.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A minor heresy, carved or woven, that allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac or a one-time reroll of any die when releasing a touchstone.
May 5th: “The Sandstone Spires of the Sarange are a marvel! To think such haunting complimentary polyrhythms could be caused by wind passing through stone spirals.”
May 13th: “Of course! The song continues unabated because the columns move with the wind! Reih and Raih seem to have made a breakthrough: they think the song is one of protection.”
May 15th: “One of the spires collapsed last night. It's been quiet since then.”
May 15th (2): “Even Reih and Raih agree we should leave. But the tracks are gone. We sent Gregor on foot to see if there were other roads, but it has been six hours. Walking from one side of the spires to the other only takes one…”
— From the journal of Hat Mustafa, cook for the Strange Archeology Society; recovered from the Sandstone Spires of Sarange
Danger: 4; Keepsake: An ancient song that unlocks +1 rank in a new, long-forgotten Trait.
All Somewheres are home to something. Recently the hexagonal pits dotting the landscape have become a Somewhere. The kaleidoscopic gases rising from them have attracted buzzard-necked owls, who peer into the purple and razzmatazz swirls. Plague doctors rouse them from the best perches with sprays of fallow-colored gas.
This Somewhere is new enough that there are no rumors to guide you. What is known is this: both the doctors and owls watch the pits. Occasionally a bird will speak and a doctor will hoot. Some see shapes in the gas, but reports are conflicted: are they visions or new realities? (Or perhaps the gas is simply a mild hallucinogen.)
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A transformative whiff of gas that provides +1 rank to an existing, body-related Trait.
When the Ancients lassoed the star, they did not account for its anger. Now the Star rages, the winds revealing the glowing bones of the giant pulled from the sky. Its tamers lay across the surrounding plateau, the eye of the storm littered with their balloon and their bones. The only advice for surviving the Starfall Plateau comes from a local children's song:
The Star is alive and the Star is dead,
If the Star sees You be quiet and quick,
Light a candle and follow its path
Do not stray; only go straight ahead
The Star is hungry and full of tricks,
The only survivors are the ones who fled.
Danger: 6; Keepsake: A spray of stellar sand – that humming grit that smooths and invigorates – that reduces the traveler's Momentum by 1.
Cactortle agate is prized for its durability, ability to cross timelines, and dark black color. The stones come from Cactortle Canyon, a thin, winding canyon whose yellow walls are broken up by black sandfalls. The dark grains collect in pools throughout the canyon, where they're used as gizzard-grit and bedding for the elephantine cactortles.
Despite their fearsome appearance, cactortles present little danger. However, it can be a challenge keeping them from scratching their mountainous carapaces against a moving train.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A fell-stone from an errant cactortle that allows the traveler to re-narrate a single Trait check for any traveler. The check must still stick to the rules established in the roll's category (e.g. Success, Setback, etc.)
Eight tracks lead from the Eye of God. One of them will carry you to your destination, the others to ruin. Trains navigate the Eye, aided by the tenders of the Glass Oasis. Though the Eye itself seems to be nothing more than a miles-wide sheet of flattened glass, the eroded rock formations beneath it swirls round and round, only to remain still upon a closer look.
How did such a perfect mirror come to be? Does your reflection sometimes seem to change out of the corner of your eye? Is its smile mischievous? Gentle? What will you see in the Eye of God? And will it take you where you need to go?
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A clarifying vision that provides +1 rank to an existing, emotion-based Trait.
In the baggage car sits an old suitcase, alone on a shelf of its own. A strange scraping sound emanates from within and it seems to rattle and shake as if something is trapped inside. The noise can be heard from the next car over. When approached, a muffled voice within makes promises of wealth and power to those who would free it. Those who ignore or refuse its pleas will be plagued by its shrieks and silver-tongued promises.
The entity may have been bound here to protect others, or by someone who sought to exploit it for selfish ends. Perhaps one of the travelers knows the combination. Maybe it was their suitcase, or maybe it belonged to their parent who left on “business” and never returned.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A small wooden puzzle box of intricate design that grants a one time reroll on any Trait check.
Sleeping passengers are awakened by a clicking sound, like the pops of a Geiger counter, or a thousand tiny beads dropping to the floor. Before them is a looming shadow with a rictus grin stretched painfully, impossibly wide. Those who meet his gaze see nightmarish visions but his soporific, singsong voice is as soothing as a lullaby.
Those who take his hand will be lead to the Crossroad of Dreams, where the line between past, future, and the impossible are blurred. There they will see what they most fear, and what they most desperately desire. But beware, travelers, both paths are equally dangerous.
Danger: 5; Keepsake: A glimpse of a possible future that reduces the danger of the next Stop or Event by 1, but adds 1 momentum to one of your touchstones.
An unseen spirit is stealing things, hurling objects, and writing cryptic messages in coal dust. For example: “Right track, wrong train,” “Teeth behind every smile,” “He cries for you,” and “Warm heart or biting cold.”
It's unclear if this poltergeist malevolent, or if it's trying to warn the travelers of something worse to come. Hiram, the mustachioed engineer says to destroy it. What secret does he know? Without help he will take matters into his own hands. If the being is ignored or harmed, it will escalate its behavior to a dangerous degree, becoming a raging maelstrom of smoke and debris. It may not understand that its warnings pose a threat to everyone on board and even the train itself.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A lump of coal shaped like a skull that warms when danger approaches. Its grants a one time re-roll on the Almanac or Atlas.
A ghostly little boy cries softly in the dining car at night. The sound fills all who hear it with a fathomless melancholy; so deep one could drown in it. The child has no face, and clutches tightly several ragged toys. Is he lost? What is he so afraid of? Does one of the travelers know him? It could be they heard the legend of the “Weeping Waif” from their old Grandy back in the City By The Sea. He may not even truly be a ghost, but a dark memory buried deep. At any rate, the child has forgotten who he is.
Do the travelers comfort him, or take him somewhere safe? Giving him a new name or discovering his old one might allow him to be released.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A stuffed horsey, well loved, threadbare, and missing an eye. It provides a new rank 1 Trait.
A group of wealthy passengers hold an amateur séance. There are candles, bells, knocking, and perhaps even eerie manifestations. The travelers can speak to spirits of friends or loved ones from their past. It's a chance for tender feelings and learning about themselves.
But not all spirits appreciate being contacted and others may not wish to go back. Possession is a risk as a desperate spirit tries to cling to the world they remember, rather than be dragged back to the vast cold emptiness beyond.
Or perhaps the self-described medium is a flimflam artist, trying to swindle the travelers and have a laugh at their expense. No doubt they just happen to have an exorcist friend nearby willing to perform an exorcism for a steep price.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A vial of ectoplasm that is worth +1 rank to an existing Trait.
A decaying woman in an ornate wedding dress appears next to one of the travelers. She refuses to be separated from them, with surprising ferocity. Her grip is ice and her shrieks chill the blood. Her gaping maw reveals rows of jagged crystalline teeth like shards of glass. If left alone, she stares intently at her chosen. But is that menace or affection on her dead face? A creeping frost slowly spreads across the car.
Heat may drive her away, or kindness may melt her rime-encrusted heart. One of the travelers may have known her, or a situation like hers. Did they lose someone too? Do they know the cold rage that can follow heartache? An old romantic song may tempt her to dance.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A golden wedding ring that grants a one time re-roll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
A dozen passengers stand in unison, a sudden act so synchronized that an onlooker might think they missed a dinner bell. People who were once familiar cast off their former identities and adopt new ones, tying to their faces uniform masks made of red earth with rusted metal fabrications where their human features once were. It's not much of a disguise, considering their faces were visible moments before, so disguise must not be their intent. Maybe you already met some of them.
Their demands are ecstatic: tear apart the trainflesh with your hands, tools, and teeth, and offer them bounty. Mercy awaits the almsgiver. For everyone else, damnation.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A red earthen mask that reveals a hidden aspect of the self, providing a new rank 1 Trait of a surprising nature.
A freight hopper squeezes through the train cars, pestering passengers for a cigarette and a light. They share a number of personal misfortunes: dice only rolled snake eyes, their dog lost a fight with a mail truck, the bossman grew a third lung just for yelling. They bother enough folks that the Conductor checks their ticket, and all thirty pockets come up short for anything resembling proof of purchase. "I just gotta get to Baton Rouge," they plead. "I know a guy there! Good as his word!"
Maybe this needs an intervention. Maybe it's no one else's business. Does this person need a helping hand, or a firm lesson in playing above board?
Danger: 2; Keepsake: The cautious hope you've done right by a stranger, providing +1 rank to an existing Trait related to self-perception.
At first, it's easy to excuse the poor service provided by the sleeping car attendants. Cold meals could mean broken furnaces, and missed shifts could indicate an illness among the crew. But the attendants share furtive nods, and pass each other handwritten notes when the boss isn't around to see. This is a work slowdown, a way to leverage their labor for concessions from the decision makers.
The attendant discuss tactics between the train cars, where the furious wind masks their communication. Do they want less hours, more hands, or revolution? If their demands are met, who, or what, will they cost? Is their well-being worth the price?
Danger: 2; Keepsake: An attendant's lapel badge, a symbolic challenge to authority that allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
A wailing wave of mourners emerges from a neighboring train car, dressed in dramatic black veils that fail to obscure the flow of tears. The deceased, it seems, had a parting request to be remembered on the rails. They pour their bottomless grief into anyone who will, or won't, listen, seeking consolation from travelers ill-prepared to provide it. It's what the deceased would have wanted, after all.
The more emotional space made for the bereaved, the more they demand. The boundaries between the self and the other break down. If this keeps up, the whole train will become an unconsolable mess. That might be cathartic... or obnoxious.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A handful of tiny copper skulls, memento mori that permit a one-time reroll of any die when releasing a touchstone.
A gnat of a man buzzes outside the train car, somehow keeping pace on the back of the healthiest steed you've ever seen. The moment he catches a glimpse of a traveler, any traveler, he fires off a crude jape tailor-made for that individual, honing in on their deepest and most personal insecurities. His voice has the friction of sandpaper on flesh. Half the train car collapses in overwhelming humiliation.
Who is this man? What is his whole deal? He better learn to mind his damn manners before a beleaguered traveler shoves a bar of soap down his throat.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A leatherbound compendium of personalized insults that allows you to make a one-time reroll of any die when making a social Trait check.
A hard, sudden vibration shudders through the train. After the vessel steadies, word travels through each compartment: "The rear car derailed!" A crowd gathers inside the now-terminal corridor connection and discover a dozen possibilities. Broken coupling. Nearby tools, for repair or sabotage. A suspicious eyewitness with changing testimonies. Was this a mechanical failure, or an intentional act?
There may have been people in the lost car. Some say it was only the start of some sinister scheme. If a culprit isn't found—any culprit—people fear this will continue, and a panicked crowd can be more dangerous than any threat, real or imagined.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A persistent, lingering doubt of moral authority that calls the past into question; the traveler avoids Momentum the next time they roll doubles.
A banner drops from the ceiling: “The Marvelous Mice Manzetti!” A troupe of mice enter, here for their first and only performance. They're very organized, but a tad clumsy (this is their first show). They flip and jump through the cabin, each a miniature marvel of mousey maneuverability. A tiny mouse walks a thread tightrope. A pair of mice complete a trapeze act that includes a daring bounce off one passenger's head.
Finally, a mouse clown (in paint, shoes, and big red nose) enters the spotlit, but she's sobbing inconsolably. A sympathetic traveler may learn that the clown's daughter, Maribel, is missing. Is she caught in the troupe's banner? Could Rasputin, the yowling cat a car forward, be responsible? Either way, no one's laughing.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A soft, warm mouse that softens life's cruelty, and reduces one's next Damage taken by 1.
Twins Ben and Jen pop through both compartment doors, dressed in stripes and spots, with strange, angular haircuts and painted on faces. While juggling, the two tell pun-ny jokes, tossing items to each other quite near the traveler's heads.
They juggle increasingly unlikely objects – first bowling pins, then eggs, an entire service of dishes, bladed weapons, goldfish bowls (with fish inside!), instruments (including a tuba and a bassoon), and then (bafflingly) the travelers themselves! As they hurtle through the air, they see their most prized possessions being juggled beside them.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: An egg that Jen dropped, which is still intact, but rattles - something is inside, but what? It allows the traveler to re- narrate a single Trait check for any traveler. The check must still stick to the rules established in the roll's category (e.g. Success, Setback, etc.)
The cabin dims and white canvas sheets descend over all the windows. Lights shine — from nowhere in particular — to cast shadow-puppets across the inside of the cabin. One sneaky shadow steals a touchstone from one of the travelers, carrying it as he skips around the walls. He tells that he will return it only if the traveler helps “make a happy ending.”
An unseen narrator begins telling an absurd fairy tale and prompts the traveler to improvise their part. If a happy ending to the story is reached, the touchstone will appear in the traveler's hands. If not, it will be remain lost until the next Stop.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A blinding flash of inspiration, granting +1 in any Trait relating to intellect or problem solving.
The most beautiful ballerina begins a solo dance down the central aisle. The audience feels nostalgia for something forgotten or left behind. A single tear slides down her cheek. As it hits the cabin floor, silence fills the space and no one can make a sound. The ballerina continues her dance and gradually unfurls into a single, long pink ribbon.
To end this unnatural silence, the travelers must discover the riddle written on the ribbon and do as it describes: “twisted round her ankle, now tethering your voice, I bind your words with beauty, you'll cut me with your choice.” The ribbon must be torn or cut in half – difficult to do as it is strong as steel.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A strong length of pink ribbon, this keepsake ties you to your past, grantng +1 rank in any Trait.
A drumroll begins and out strides Manuel, the King of the Circus, Master of Men and Monsters, Big Cat Tamer extraordinaire. At the other end roars a ferocious lion, sharp clawed and furious. Manuel works hard to keep the lion from eating the passengers, leaping from row to row. Things are looking hairy until he begins tickling the cat with a long purple feather to get it to follow him.
How will the travelers assist in taming and caging this wild beast? If they show aggression toward the lion, it will attack.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A promise the traveller makes to themselves: an iron determination to overcome adversity, lowering the traveler's momentum by 1.
A rail-thin man in suspenders and top hat enters and weakly claims to be “Benjamin, the best ventriloquist alive”. He brings out a battered-looking dummy with big googly eyes. As the act starts, the dummy refuses to speak. The ventriloquist tries drinking, eating a sandwich, even tells half a knock-knock joke. Finally he concedes. He places his hat on the dummy's head. The dummy springs up and declares himself to be the real Benjamin! The ventriloquist crumples to the floor, now just a realistic doll. Ben proclaims “I'm free! I'll never be a dummy again!” and tears about the cabin, wrecking it with hands and teeth.
Will the travelers intervene? If the top hat is put back on the ventriloquist's head, Ben will become a dummy again and the ventriloquist will give a keepsake to whoever seemed most determined to help.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A sneaking suspicion. People aren't always what they seem. It allows the traveler to re-narrate a single Trait check for any traveler. The check must still stick to the rules established in the roll's category (e.g. Success, Setback, etc.)
Prospero, the train's bartender, sends a thick ivory envelope to every passenger. For one night only, there will be cocktails in the dining car. You will attend in formal wear. Rabble will not be admitted. Cocktails of every hue line the ebony bar, and the lamplight plays tricks with the liqueurs.
But there may come a time when merriment turns to misery, joy to dust. Prospero just keeps shaking drinks and pouring forth an obscene stream of colors from blue to orange to black. There may come a time when you look askew, towards an angle that isn't quite real, and you see a dark masked figure splattered in red stalking any passenger who holds a glass. Whoever it touches begins to claw at their face. Whoever it touches is diminished.
Danger: 5; Keepsake: A cordial glass with red dregs in the bottom. Knock back the last couple drops to re-roll on the Almanac.
Dear John, My Former Friend, Dear Boss… these letters addressed to far-flung locales are united by a common cause. They've been brought together and animated by pure spite. The flock of letters from an escaped mail bag shapes itself into snow-white origami crows and beats pale wings against the sky. They storm the train and batter against the windows.
Eventually some collapse, exhausted. There are debt collection letters in the pile, poison pen missives from stranger to stranger, critical (nay, hurtful) reviews of poetry and poetry that hurts to read, and more than a few red-inked letters to newspapermen bragging about undiscovered bodies. The contents are as terrifying as the threat of paper cuts from the living horde.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A violent letter refolded into a peaceful crane, worth one free re-roll of any die when making a Trait check
"We'll be approaching the tunnel soon," the conductor booms. "The Orpheus Channel, Redcomb Closet, Camasotz Causeway. Even if you've got a wicked case of nyctophobia, we've got gas lamps, whale oil, and our back-up system..." they trail off. "Well, we're out of gas, the gargoyles got into the whale oil again, and first back-up got unhitched. There's always the secondary back-up. Each seat's got a candelabra you can light for yourself. And if you aren't already phobic you might be by the end of this."
The candelabra is shaped like a human hand - no, it is a human hand, decomposing and smelling of brine and graveyards. Each wick finger beckons and begs for a light. Will it be the hand of glory, or the dangers of the dark?
Danger: 6; Keepsake: A match, either used or unused. Transfer a point of Damage from one traveller to another.
There's a lonely shelf of books in the corner of the library car that has a warning scratched onto both iron bookends. Never open these books. But how can anyone know if these are the books in question? And even if all the curious, grubby-handed passengers kept their fingers and eyeballs to themselves, who's to say one day a breeze won't come through a careless open window and knock them over like a game of dominoes?
Since they were written, these books served as a prison for monsters of the mind, now free to wander in physical form. The train rolls through a bloody mist, a pack of wolves nip at the wheels. Bats swarm a window, all desperate to never return to their prisons of purple prose.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A gothic bluebook, bound tightly against the danger within, granting a new rank 1 Trait involving storytelling.
There are three reasons to brick something up behind a wall. Some heirlooms are too haunted by their long violent lives to let loose. Some locations are unstable, and a good luck charm packed just out of sight keeps them grounded. Sometimes evidence needs to be hidden. But when the passenger car shudders on an evil curve, a trickle of sandy mortar turns into a cataract of bricks. There's a hollow in the wall of the train car that wasn't there before.
A dusty curio comes tumbling down. Is that the glimmering glass and soft hair of a witch bottle? Or the carapace of a mummified crab, locked in battle with a dusty hawk skeleton? It's definitely something one of you remembers from a distant nightmare.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A nightmare avoided, reducing your momentum by one.
Lithopsy: a fascinating disease affecting primarily the harder tissues. First discovered by Drs. Carmina and Rappachio during their research into the life cycle of the stone termites. Also called Statuary Influenza (and mislabeled in 'Loxley's Guide to Poxes' as Stationary Influenza). It poses no danger to hale and impassioned human beings, but is a grave threat to church foundations, monument cemeteries, and especially cold-hearted individuals.
— Curious Pathologies of Man and Beast
The gargoyles decorating the outside of the train, previously the picture of stoic decorum, start to weep, to snort, sneeze and slaver. Gradually, each cough causes the train to shudder and bits begin flying off. It's hard not to feel sympathy for the puppy-headed chimerical beasts. Not feeling sympathy comes with its own hazards…
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A smooth pebble from a gargoyle's lizardly gullet. Let it go to reroll any die when releasing a Touchstone.
Tonight's entertainment is a fancy dress party! You're invited, of course, but you'll need something to wear. Luckily this party is hosted by tailors, and they'll gladly fit you for a whole new outfit. In fact, it's required.
Fancy parties are ripe with drama. You know how it is. There's some romantic tension, some mistaken identities, an elusive thief with a calling card, that one guy whose mask is his actual face, a plot to replace someone with a twin in a golden mask, all the classics. But honestly... these are some really fancy clothes, and nobody wants to scuff them. Surely you can just sit back and take it easy, just this once?
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A very fancy hat that provides a new rank 1 Trait, chosen by another player.
The dining car is preparing for a grand feast! It promises to be an interesting night, as every dish is actually a meal from a moment in your past. The White-Haired Maid who pushes the cart will bring you anything you've eaten before, exactly as you remember it.
Some use the opportunity to reflect. Others simply stuff themselves with their favourite meals. But the real fun begins when someone asks the Maid to "surprise" them, and she starts serving meals from other people's pasts. Maybe you'll learn something about your fellow travelers. Maybe you'll see an old memory from a new angle. Or the Maid can just bring ten of your favourite pie. There's no judgement here.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A fresh perspective that allows you to avoid gaining Momentum the next time you roll doubles, and a take-away box for later.
One side of the car begins to unfold into a big stage—it's time for a theater production! The famous Playwright who rides the train in search of interesting stories—yes, the author of that play, and please don't speak its name, thank you—is putting on a show. They just need actors. And who better to ask than the travelers whose overheard stories the Playwright wove into the script?
Ever wanted to take the stage? Now you can! As the lights dim and familiar shapes take form on the stage, though, you might find playing your part to be tougher than expected. Will you know the right lines? Will you go off-script? And will you give the audience a good show?
Danger: 3; Keepsake: Exit pursued by a bear, who will prevent the next point of Damage you would take.
The cat café opens! This car is full of all manner of cats, and today they're serving non-cat travelers for a change. Sit back, relax, and let them bring you treats and cups of coffee with their little paws. Just don't trust them to bring you a whole glass of water, and don't keep anything near the edge of the table.
Some cats can talk, and they're good company. They're travelers too, with hopes and dreams and hairballs and problems to deal with. Perhaps they could use solutions that don't involve napping or running from one end of the car to the other. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A bag of treats, worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
The Lost And Found opens! This car is packed with souvenirs and knickknacks left behind by previous travelers, piled precariously high on every surface. They've been held for years in case someone ever comes back for them, but nobody ever does. They're running out of room, so it's time to let the travelers help themselves!
Search the piles and ledgers for useful supplies, and travel diaries. Marvel at the weird junk people left behind, then put it back because you don't want it either. Find things fellow travelers lost, possibly before they boarded the train. Just be careful what you pick up—some things are lost for a reason.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A souvenir from a distant land. Choose a Stop table you're not using in this game, and roll two entries. Choose the Keepsake from one entry, and put the other one back.
The Game Hall is open! This car's shelves have all manner of games, though maybe not as you remember them. Checkers has an extra board with a connecting train, and they have the extra card suits, compass, and moon phase chart for Memnosian Double Poker. If you prefer chess, the sommelier will supply one of the Fourteen Forbidden Pieces (except the Wanderer, which they keep losing).
The sole unmodified game is Wizard's Gambit, a board game of strategy and bluffing where the board conceals some of your pieces from the opponent. Of course, everyone plays modified Wizard's Gambit because the original is cursed and you'll be forced to battle the great and terrible Wizard himself, but what true game aficionado turns down a challenge?
Danger: 3; Keepsake: The Wanderer piece, which will grant a one-time reroll on the Stop table.
The travelers eagerly anticipated their next stop in Cyntrivan, the City of Waterfalls – but when they hear the roar of the falls, the train doesn't decelerate. It continues past the platform at full speed. Before anyone can react, they're back in the desert on the other side of Cyntrivan with no sign of slowing.
When someone finds a crew member to ask what happened, they're reluctant to explain at first, but the truth comes out: a bomb has been discovered on the train! It's rigged to the engine, and according to the mad bomber's message, it's set to blow when the train drops below its current speed. The travelers better find a way to defuse it before they approach Cerebos, or their journey might have a more explosive end than they bargained for!
Danger: 5; Keepsake: A clipped red wire that offers a new rank 1 Trait.
The train's public address system crackles, and the unfamiliar voice that comes through introduces herself as the notorious outlaw Latro the Avaricious. She's taken the conductor hostage, and demands a ransom of four million diamond crocodile teeth before she'll relinquish control of the train. What's that? The travelers have a case of teeth ready to go? In that case, she needs a coat of sky-mink feathers, or a year's supply of limited edition pudding cups…
The demands will never end. They're a distraction; Latro's real plan is to take the train to her hideout, where she'll connect the cars to the others she's already stolen to create the endless train she's always dreamed of conducting. If the travelers hope to reach Cerebos, they'll have to free the real conductor!
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A false conductor's hat. Its aura of confidence grants +1 rank to an existing Trait.
A low hum rises beside the tracks. Peering out windows, the travelers see a gang of bone-armored raiders mounted on hover-trikes, speeding alongside the train. As the travelers watch, the raiders' leader raises a horn to her lips and sounds an alert. On her signal, the bandits shoot harpoon guns at the train's exterior. They're boarding!
The raiders' jury-rigged vehicles and weapons are cobbled together from what they've managed to pry off previous trains. As they clamber onto the roof, they pull out crowbars and wrenches and begin dismantling whatever they can reach. Will the travelers band together to throw them off before the train is damaged beyond repair?
Danger: 5; Keepsake: The bandit leader's boar-tooth helmet. Its protection reduces the danger of the next Event by 1.
A grim-faced mountain of a man stalks through the train. Staring straight ahead, he shows no emotion and never breaks his gait or deviates from his path. Whatever stands in his way is unceremoniously shoved aside with implacable strength. He stops only when he encounters a passenger, and to each, he asks the same question: “Are you Professor Kairos?”
The robotic assassin has traveled back in time to ensure his own creation: he's scheduled to be built by Professor Kairos in Cerebos, and for that to happen, he's got to ensure the professor's arrival on time by making sure their ticket is punched. Unfortunately, the robot knows nothing about his creator except their name. Can the travelers complete his mission – or find another way to stop his rampage?
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A monogrammed pocket watch worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check.
The menu promised sweet dumplings in plum sauce and pickled fish roe on tiny flatbreads, but the quality of refreshments has deteriorated markedly since the train pulled away from the City by the Sea. The snack cart hasn't been spotted in three hours, and the last thing anyone saw it carrying was stale peanut butter cheese crackers.
One passenger stomps out to give someone a piece of his mind, but returns with a disturbing report: passengers in first class have decided at the rate they're paying, all train's luxuries ought to be theirs, and they've monopolized all the food and drink. (If the travelers thought they were the ones in first class, they may be surprised to learn there's a more exclusive car!) It'll be a miserable ride if the travelers can't find a way to redistribute the wealth.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A glass of fine champagne that tastes faintly of honey and freedom from care, and reduces a traveler's Momentum by 1.
From the next car, the travelers hear odd sounds: thumps, shouting, an ominous rattle. They may not think much of it until the door bursts open. Into the car runs a harried woman in spectacles and a lab coat – and slithering after her, a roiling rumba of snakes!
The apologetic scientist gasps out a hurried explanation if anyone takes the time to listen: she's on her way to the Cerebos Herpetological Convention with a cargo of the most venomous species that inhabit the region around the City by the Sea. The chilled crate she brought them in should have induced torpor, but the temperature control mechanism failed, and they're throwing a hissy fit about waking up early!
Danger: 4; Keepsnake: A shed skin that makes a potent reminder to leave behind what's not needed anymore. It allows a one-time reroll of any die when releasing a Touchstone.
If the total Danger is greater than 5 when players roll on the Atlas and at least one Event from this table is active, one of those Events becomes the next Stop.
Ersatz, the Eternal Carnival, drifts raucously overhead, overflowing with music and lights. Within its patched tents and collapsible arcades, pleasure-seekers enjoy delightful games and whimsical shows. Ersatz is held aloft by seven gaily painted gasbag towers, which inexorably follow Jupiter's orbit. Souvenir astrolabes say “Ersatz is fun, by Jove!”
The machinery of Ersatz is powered by joy. To be unhappy is to be unproductive, and sullenness is tantamount to sabotage. True joy can run a factory for a week, while faking is good enough for government work (as the local jest goes). The ruby-gloved MCs of Ersatz are always in search of talented stevedores, as unloading cargo is a game and a half.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A handful of unredeemed Ersatz funbux that provides a new rank 1 Trait. Learning is fun!
A passbook for Em, the Mother of Cities. A bandaged soldier peers from the great dome, whistling. A handful of gears exchanged for a loaf of cardamom oat bread. A deep tread mark in the sand, home to green shoots shaded by the city. Two orderlies rush a newcomer to the burn ward. Children build towers from crates, unaware of their parents' sacrifices. Tarkus the Watchful with 8,000 eyes, who observes all, chronicles another failure and all the revolutions yet to come. An alliance sealed with the addition of honey to milk.
A new day dawns, crimson on chrome. Black. Black. Ever black. Em's dome unfurls like an awakening lotus, welcoming its solar bounty. Now she rests her treads and begins to build.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A redacted timetable that provides 1 rank in a revolutionary Trait.
Selphic, the Perpetual City, races toward the future on a parallel track. Inside the city's streamlined cars, life is a blur of snap decisions and destinations. Selphic's navigators, who anoint themselves with grease and rouge, burn their maps as they go. Any who weather their Rites of the Rail gain great prestige in the form of hot black coffee and solid bronze voting tokens. Even visitors may partake by strapping themselves to Selphic's screaming figurehead, afforded no sustenance save the wind and the sky.
With its engines running hot and worn, Selphic will soon leap the tracks. During its repairs, deals will be plentiful. In a city such as Selphic, the only way forward is straight ahead.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A vision of motion and light that provides a one-time re-roll of both dice when releasing a touchstone.
To whomever finds me: I am no ordinary brick. I am from the walls of Clovis, the Bringer of Jollity. The good people of Clovis value truth and service to others. While our detractors (who are mistaken and many) may shun our words, we are limited by the dictates of physical space. Far better to provide one hundred lives with one perfect missive than one endlessly fragile life with one hundred.
After absorbing this knowledge, please return me to one of our ports. You will know them by their opalescent falls and bejeweled quarries. Look for a gleaming obelisk. We're the one that's a few bricks short of a wall. Continued on other side of brick.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A moral dictate carved on a small-but-weighty crystal brick that allows its owner to deal a traveler 1 Damage and reinterpret one of that traveler's rank 1 Traits.
If architecture is music frozen in time, Clarion, the Ringing City, is a raging blizzard. Its cells and alleys, indeed, the entire city sprang from the Horn of Gladion in the Age of Triumph. The sonic superstructure resonates across the desert, given form by its conquests. Clarion is a storm, a city, a call to arms! The rolling thunder fermata pulverizes buildings, trains, and any other bastions of opposition in its path. Without new material, the Ringing City would collapse. But there's no fear of peace. Not when the very walls join the conquest.
Of course, Clarion is not a monophony. But even the Plowshare Rondo despairs. If they escape, Clarion persists; if they stay, their rebellion is subsumed in the chorus of eternal vigilance.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: An irelium train whistle. The owner can toot it to replace either die roll on the Atlas with a higher number of their choice.
It is said that during the Convocation of Hermits, hierophant crabs gather to breed and upgrade their crabitations. The citizens who build walls and homes on their shells celebrate as well, feasting and engaging in feats of skill. On Silvaire, the boldest of the hierophants, fishers call sweetly from elongated tubes and wave flags. The road to Convocation is a chance to cast aside hats, weaknesses, even lovers – but what's a journey without a serendipitous meeting or a chance to experience yourself through the lives of others?
Those who take up the jests of Silvaire enter a rivalry that lasts until the hierophant escapes from view. The citizens lead with incisive effigies of their rivals, exact and insulting to the smallest detail. As the day wanes, they break out the rude drums.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A cast-off shell from a lesser hierophant that provides a new rank 1 Trait already possessed by another traveler.
We soon found ourselves at Corval, a bustling oasis hunched within the ruins of a once-great city. Great Corval's obsolescence was planned. Its rulers knew destruction is the fate of all civilizations, so they planned its end down to the minute. We encountered the descendents of these forward-thinkers by the ponds, where they traded water and coal. For a donation to the New Corval Benevolent Fund, they guided us to the water's source.
Even if you care not for New Corval, the pools are worth the visit. At night, the linked waterways capture the stars. The pools' tenders tell us these miraculous waters can burn away maladies of the flesh or fuel many a wondrous device. However, they caution against diving too deep. One of their number availed herself too greatly of the water and is now a constellation. The world's concerns must look so small from her view.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A vial of star-infused water that allows the traveler to re-narrate a single Trait check for any traveler. The check must still stick to the rules established in the roll's category (e.g. Success, Setback, etc.)
Crystalline boulders litter this crater, whose high walls protect against the elements. The locals cut and facet this empyrean debris to create useful goods, including Highcrater lachrymosas: hexagonal pendants filled with funeral tears. As the tears evaporate, the pendants emit a shrill whistle unrecognizable save to the cleverest of dogs. Subconsciously, it soothes bereavement, agitates ghosts, and discomfits the deceased's creditors.
A funeral has entered its third day. The deceased's will stipulates a visiting traveler must carry their tears. Sometimes only a stranger will listen to the heart's deepest sorrow. Naturally, there are also those among the living who care little for the wishes of the dead.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A lachrymosa that allows its owner to deal a traveler 1 Damage and change one of that traveler's rank 1 Traits after a short conversation.
The rail doesn't cross into the domed oasis of Mirram, but no one from within its frosted glass border helps passengers disembark. Nothing exists outside of Mirram; anyone that claims otherwise must be disoriented by the side effects of spontaneous generation.
Splendid Mirram glitters like an emerald, from its vine-enrobed central pillar to the broad-leaved ferns that regulate its water cycle. Mirram spans a crater that was once a sea of diamonds. On occasion, subterranean gas breaches the miners' seals, and klaxons send citizens rushing for their masks. What deeds go unavenged and scores are settled in the yellow haze?
Danger: 5; Keepsake: A lungful of subterranean gas that allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
At the oasis of Pyppe, a massive stone pipe runs parallel to the track for several kilometers before turning south. Ooze seeps from the pipe's bevelled joins. The Disorder of Hands depend on the pipe for sustenance, as do the stunted goats they tend. The goats know the ebb and flow of the choicest liquids, while the mystics' lives of hardship have inured them to the worst of the oozes' side effects.
The mystics are known for their mastery of the vriduz, twinned pipes of horn and ivory. To hear a master perform is to hear an argument's thesis and antithesis as co-conspirators. The resulting composition rejuvenates the will, just as the oozing pipe sustains failing flesh. Acolytes interpret their masters' singular duets, but invite visitors to try their hand at particularly thorny passages.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A haunting vriduz duet that reduces the traveler's Momentum by 1.
No stop is scheduled, but when a mute giant blocks the track, needs must. Fresh water trickles between the gargantuan creature's toes, supporting a band of chitin-robed nomads. They raise nourishing cacti in the giant's shade and hunt the insects that swarm his heights. The bolder nomads have begun scraping fungus from the giant's graffiti-covered legs for sale as fuel.
When the giant finds heaven's answer, his tribe will pack their tents and follow him. Where the train goes from there is its own business.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: An alien tale of uncertain meaning provides a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone. The Coronation of the Broodwhite loses something in translation, but it gains new purpose.
What little water remains along Shell Beach is a mix of salt, scum, and runoff from the bitter seltzer plant. This is the home of sky manta, who can never forget the sea as it was. Intellectuals from a distant city seek to revive Shell Beach. They've started many projects in nominal support of the manta, including a sensory deprivation tank, a radio tower for extending the aquifer (“more a thought experiment than a radio”) and the Sestina Promenade.
A bleached bull manta skeleton sits outside the radio tower, surrounded by a field of trouble melons. “Have some troubles!” No one in Shell Beach would be so gauche to drink the distilled seltzer. It's literally a source of misery and woe, but some people have a real taste for it.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A taste of bitter seltzer that causes 1 Damage and provides +1 rank in an existing philosophical or conceptual Trait.
There are teeth that lead to a hidden treasure. The large billboard proves it: “FOLLOW THE TEETH!” A tourist shack provides guidance to anyone interested in the Treasure of the Teeth. What is the treasure? Whose teeth are they? The docents are clear: these questions are unanswered, and therefore searching for the treasure is perfectly dangerous.
Fellow treasure hunters claim they've already found the Treasure of the Teeth and gesture to boxes full of feathers, beads, and memories of petrichor. How far should you go? Where is the real treasure? It better not be the friends you made along the way!
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A moment of insight that provides a new rank 1 Trait.
It's Telegraph Day! You know what that means: Everybody needs to send a message to their favorite dead author or else they will be cursed with a year of Mildly Bad Luck.
Luckily for everyone onboard, there happens to be a telegraph station on the way! True, it's run by a skeleton and built on a pile of skulls, but a telegraph is a telegraph. The cheerful engineer introduces the skulls in the pile and points out the rare fashions in the elevated nests of the sartorial buzzards. It would be wise to keep an eye on your clothing, as the buzzards operate under a strict construction of the Finders-Keepers Compact.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A workmanlike couplet worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
It's harder to decide what's more unsettling: The uniform mounds of white bones or the termites moving through them. The termites move in perfectly straight lines in and out of the mounds in a way that suggests a grand plan. At least they do until the train pulls to a stop.
Being covered head to toe in termites is unpleasant, but the termites who guard the Travelers' Bones are capable of nibbling away faults. Those who survive the onslaught find themselves renewed. Cleansed of their doubts and grudges, a traveler is free to be their best self.
Not everyone has enough left after the termites' meal to remain a person, and the termites see through lies and facades. On several occasions, the nicest seeming traveler reduced to a set of oracle bones.
Danger: 5; Keepsake: A set of carved oracle bones that allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac or a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check .
One problem with travel is the company. It may, as it is now, consist of scholars with such fascinating fields of study as “metallurgic hair synthesis”. And said scholars may be friendly enough with train conductors to stop an entire train to look at a skeleton. As though nobody has seen a skeleton before, even a fancy one. But apparently it is different as this fancy skeleton has a golden beard and a silver wig.
You are surrounded by miles of sand. Not interesting sand. Not black sand. Not sand that will secretly lead you astray using your heart's desire. It gets in your shoes. Until the wind picks up, forming shops and plazas from the sparkling grit. And in these transitory boulevards the dead begin to move.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: An easily pocketed souvenir worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
It's pretty rare for a train to get lost, because well… it's a train. However, the conductor has no record of this set of tracks or the nearby stone formation. The circle of red rocks surrounds an ivory carving – or perhaps it's bone? Though it's odd that it all seems to be one big piece… this must have been a large one, and as the winds blow, more and more white is revealed underneath the sand.
The carvings are some sort of symbolic map that reacts to its surroundings. Stick figures move across the ivory despite seeming to be carved hundreds of years ago. Even the train has its own little figure, as do the tracks. While the tracks are mapped, there is no information about the surrounding area, and therefore the map is of very little help with orienting yourselves. It does, however, tell you that something represented by a skull is heading towards the train. Quickly.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A defensible interpretation of the mandala that allows a one-time reroll on the Atlas.
You know this person. You all know this person. Which is strange, because they are a skeleton on the side of the road. Asking about the skeleton at the nearby diner (which has amazing waffles) doesn't turn up much. It's Dave (or Sarah or T'Ragra or Ixchil).
But it is not Dave (or Sarah or T'Ragra or Ixchil). You know them, and you know that's wrong. Who could it be? Why do you all know them? Why can't you leave? These are all good questions, but the skeleton does not provide answers.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A fortifying memory that provides +1 rank to an existing Trait.
Bi-An, the Distant, is the grandest of the silo cities. Machinery from an enlightened age drove the silos into the desert like screws. The citizens of Bi-An dream and fret like anybody else; however, where light-wracked polises discuss the capriciousness of the weather, here they speak of fastenings. Are the silo cities holding the planet together? Binding an evil spirit? Woe betides the traveler who suggests the cities' form has no greater purpose.
No matter the reason for Bi-An's creation, be sure to ride the funicular to the lower levels, where iron can be sipped like wine. Supplies are limited, so be sure to arrive early lest another visitor has the last sip. Those who lack the grit to taste fresh Irndraught are welcome to remain on their train as it threads the twisting track all the way back to the surface.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A taste of Irndraught that allows a one-time reroll on the Atlas or Almanac. Plow through all obstacles!
Locals and itinerant miners have eaten at the Restaurant of Many Curtains for generations, but it has attracted a more diverse clientele since diplomats from Cerebos started visiting. Travelers receive unmatched hospitality, for anyone could be a Cerebos tastemaker in disguise.
Praise for the restaurant is matched only by its flavors, which draw from local mushrooms, piquant vinegars, and hearty sauces. The Eenica Mining Concern, which hires from the common room, donates crimson and gold curtains and cheery orange lamps to distract from the restaurant's single flaw. No matter its ingredients, every dish is as gray as a twilit well.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: An extra breakfast that provides +1 rank to an existing Trait associated with the eater's past.
In Yon, the Rational City, long-sleeved citizens live in multi-story buildings of adobe and straw. Civil authorities assign a survey to every person who enters the walls. Depending on their answers about personal grooming, the shape of clouds, and the taste of olives, they are winners or losers. Yon's elders vote every ten years on which answers are correct.
Losers work the salt mines and farm the rocky soil, while winners receive extra portions of meat and fewer taxes. Everybody knows this system is eminently fair: fate can cast even the most powerful citizen into a position of servitude. Even malcontents know their turn will come – and if the elders never rule in the favor of their enemies, well, they are only human.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A newly remembered slight that allows the traveler to re-narrate a single Trait check for any traveler. The check must still stick to the rules established in the roll's category (e.g. Success, Setback, etc.)
Tourists know the Ophidian Exchange was named for Ramos the Underserpent, whose hunger formed the tunnels. The train's conductor has a relative who works at the Exchange, happy to push serpent repellant and soft models of Ramos on visitors.
Merchants know the truth behind the Ophidian Exchange. It is the heart of a snake-smuggling ring that sources its herpetological cargo from the stars. Orion, the game warden of the constellations, suspects impropriety. Although the Hunter's light is slow to penetrate the earth's crust, his meteor showers and hunt-crazed agents act in his stead to bring light to the darkness.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A venomous snake whose bite delivers fond dreams and itchy welts. The snake will escape soon after delivering its first bite, which reduces the traveler's Momentum by 1.
Welcome to Azer, the Thief. Ancient crabs pull its districts of wide benches and rosewater fountains through measureless caverns. When the crabs reach a surface city, Azer's stone runners cease. Curious Azerites head upward with long-handled drills. Their syncopated hearth music becomes the music of the night, their dance and opera become the vision of today. Travelers lucky enough to visit Azer during the cultural exchange are invited to lyceums and slams as cosmopolitan arts blossom.
Within months, the surface claims Azer's traditions as its own. It shuns the crab-people of the darkened wastes. The culture heroes of the heavens chase Azer deeper into the earth, familiar arias on their lips and hatchets in hand. Do not suffer the outsider, who claims a share of your pastries and wine. Pale, sun-shy Azerites escape into the darkness, searching ever onward.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: An Azerite word that perfectly encapsulates a previously indescribable feeling. It entirely prevents the next Damage taken.
The outpost of Zandellos hunches uneasily out of Desperation Reach. Maintaining tracks across the underground sea is expensive but necessary. Without the reaper trains of Zandellos, its artisans would be cut off from the world by a sargasso of thorns.
The night potters of Zandellos shape clay from the sunless depths into vessels for unwanted sights. The gritty paste preserves the past as its observers saw, but true artists mix pasts like pigments. The resulting phantasmagorias are overwhelming, but often insightful. A fresh palette of travelers would pique the interest of any potter interested in the question of the generation: can universal truth exist among so many shades of the past?
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A smear of lesser ochre that allows its owner to deal a traveler 1 Damage and change one of that traveler's rank 1 Traits.
This gaily lit depot town isn't Singh's Crossing, but the signs at this station nevertheless welcome its visitors. Manifestoes distributed by patch-suited buskers explain: if it's stolen, it's art! Singh's Crossing is a grand experiment in repurposing. Proud visionaries, flash-talking thieves, and wanderers at risk of disintegration all make their homes in the whorling, adobe structures that spill from the depot like the report from an upturned can of paint.
Visitors are invited to visit Singh's Crossing's gallery of pilfered subway entrances. What do they make of the prism of pulsating basalt that has been left in the town square? Is it subversive or trash? While they ponder, one elderly artist shares a pot of remixed stew.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: An article of clothing is stolen and later recovered. It has been reinforced to reduce that next Damage taken by its wearer by 1.
Muad, the Perfect City, is well-regarded by all. The noodles are springy and well sauced, the mechanical oddities enthralling, and the sun tea is pleasantly sour. Such is the expense of living among perfection, only one in one-thousand who walk its broad, green linen-shaded arcades can afford to sleep in Muad. At sundown, armed agents of the Prosperity Guild chase non-residents to their makeshift apartments outside Muad's perfect walls.
The Masons of Muad find inspiration in machines, but truth in stone. Pilgrims bring devices from across the desert to Muad's infinity well, where they accumulate stone shells from the water's evaporation and deposition. The pilgrims revel in the city's perfection while contemplating their offerings' perfection once stripped of rust, conductivity, and function.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A petrified and crumbling pocket watch that allows its owner to avoid gaining Momentum the next time they roll doubles. Recontextualize an old memory.
The sister cities of Orm and Calyx are connected by a bridge over a burning chasm. The rift's black tourmaline striations hum with discarded poetry. Garnet-eyed lizards crawl the rocks, using the heaviest verses to crush their competition.
Orm and Calyx are the sweetest of friends, except during the Shearing when words are sharpened into weapons. Amid the pounding of Orm's vast public drums and clangoring of Calyx's bells, an elevated fool from each city throws poetry-stones and screams bitter truths. The ceremony ends when each city's Bridgetender's Union catches their fool and banishes them to the far side of the bridge.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A weighty verse that allows its owner to deal a traveler 1 Damage and change one of that traveler's rank 1 Traits.
In the polished marble streets of Yelm, where the lamplighters wear turbans of the bluest silk and the air is heavy with fried fruit, houses are built on wheels. Every building, from the rudest shack to the copper-domed conservatories of the philosopher-kings, can be moved. It is an orderly system that brings wealth to the mapmakers of Yelm.
One of these mapmakers, more honest than most, shares Yelm's secret: although the houses' locations change daily, one's neighbors never do. The people appreciate the routine arguments and regular inconvenience of their neighbors. In Yelm, every day is a journey, but the sights are always the same.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A discarded wheel that can be attached to the train. Doing so provides each traveler with +1 rank in a new or existing Trait related to motion. Being surrounded by movement provides the opportunity to consider one's own trajectory.
I arrived in Arbalest, the seat of the Silicate Council, where sharp winds replace flesh and bone with hard, shining sand. Citizens who reach the end of their natural spans become one with the walls. When I arrived, a civic pride movement was in progress. Volunteers, scented with orange blossom and musk, provided knit caps and ceramic plaques for their ancestors. Some even attacked the great walls with chisels to restore faces to their weathered kin. How the city must adapt when it loses a load-bearing philosopher!
I also met a youth with many debts. He was prepared to add his body to a growing factory. Pitying him, I purchased a length of stone he swore was the nose of his grandfather.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A reinforced sense of purpose and sandy shoulders that provide +1 rank to an existing Trait tied to the past.
It isn't rare for an unscheduled stop in Humble Glassblower Village. The city (for it has grown considerably since it was named) is a bastion of culture and relaxation. A worker's cooperative maintains several public baths, which are fed by medicinal springs. Citizens soak in the opaque waters twice daily.
The same oxide that gives the springs their unique pink hue is instrumental in the city's glasswork. The bottles and flutes capture sound, which merchants use to enforce contracts. Tradition holds that each citizen hosts an oathestra during their thirty-fifth year. They air the sounds of their life for a crowd, who celebrates the performer's passions and tuts their mistakes. Fashionable performers source exotic sounds from travelers to spice up their shows.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A glass jar containing a timely warning that allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
No journey is complete without a stop at the Gethsemane Reclamation Company's state-of-the-art rural renewal facility. Travellers marvel as heavy machinery grinds statues and buildings from a once-great republic to sand. The midnight foreman, who has been around longer than anyone, claims before the factory there was no desert at all.
Be sure to purchase a protective filter at the commissary: inhaling civilization particles may cause forgetfulness, dry mouth, and mild irritation. Louche workers cut the dust and smoke it, unburdened by the ash of history. Management strongly encourages visitors intent on scouring the ruins for clues to their past to travel in groups. Amnesia is a hell of a drug.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A bummed cigarette that allows the traveler to shake off one Damage gain and gain 1 Momentum.
I wanted to enjoy the many-lobed succulents of Alpha Cactauri, but my sticky children kept poking themselves on the steel spines. Have the Cactauri even heard of CORKS?! Everyone in my club RAVED about the circus-sized colony of mangineered megaflora, but that's where any similarities to the circus end.
The only comfort in this so-called technological wonderland is the bitter liquor that drips from its terrible spines. Why does everyone rave about the artisanal circuitry pulsing and broadcasting the locals' emotions? Why can't the Cactauri just TALK TO ME instead of trusting these electronic cascades? Skip the tour. One-and-a-half stars.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A vegetal skin grows over the train, transforming it into a symbiotic device. As a Train Action, anyone may destroy the skin to steam past the next Stop entirely and heal 1 Damage to any traveler.
Memnos-Herron, City of the Mind, is a city without walls. People and small lizards float in the air, experiencing all the acts of life as if supported by invisible architecture. There are privacy screens within the imaginary walls of Memnos-Herron, but perhaps not enough. The train station is a rickety affair. Amenities are limited, but include two EnviroPills.
Each EnviroPill provides access to the imaginary city that has been built by its inhabitants. The stern psycho-architects of Memnos-Herron can craft any experience with their encephlolathes, but they will not do so without a convincing tale. Learning their trade for yourself can take years, but perhaps you have been here before?
Danger: 2; Keepsake: The after-sound of Memnos-Harran. Reduce Momentum on each of the owner's touchstones by 2 until the next Stop, after which they increase by 2 until the subsequent Stop. Keep up this merry cycle until the end of the journey.
I met a scuttled drone from an antique land,
Who said–“Two vast and toothless treads of chrome
Stand in the desert… near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered sphere lies, whose domes,
And smokeless stacks, and line bereft of commands,
Tell that its function well those products bled
Which yet survive, clouds for the endless sky,
The positronic hand, and the hopper fed;
And on the factory, these words appear:
'My name is CF-405, Cloud Plant D;
Take on my Works, ye Mighty, and take shade!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the scrap
Of that colossal Wreck, thrumming, unafraid,
A light mist forms, and fouls the map.”
Danger: 5; Keepsake: A stowaway cloud joins the travelers. It shields the train from one Event of its owner's choice, ignoring it entirely.
From a distance, the geothermal vents of the Ysalt Plains resemble a landlocked cloud. The Ysalt Birdmen live above the slippery heat, each family inhabiting a basalt obelisk. They survive on unhappy salamanders who gather around thermal vents. Have yourself a pair of goggles, a hang-glider fit for the flamewind, and a long spear? Feel free to join!
Birdmen mystics concur that everything has already occurred in the higher planes of wind and fire. This world is where they cross. To move forward, one must mix life's contrasting experiences to create steam. Only conflict begets currents that lead back to the Valved God.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A relaxing steam bath that reduces the next Damage taken by 1.
Many rails lead to Choura's Rest, but only a handful leave. After all, it is where trains go to die. Discarded rolling stock runs to the horizon, their looted husks a catalog of discontinued models. The Coal Lords protect their collection with shrieking and iron. They dislike the old woman who arrived recently to sell salvage to passing locomotives. A traveler on the inbound train may have disrespected her in the past, but she's old and would like a successor.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A crate of Crossroads Black, the Coal Lords' choice blend. The owner can take a Train Action to reveal the previous Train Action was a hallucination caused by acrid smoke. This deals 1 Damage to the owner.
Crossing the Trimble Waste, many travelers stop at the Library of Sighs to peruse its catalog of mankind's troubles. The orderly records and firm serge cushions make this a productive environment for connecting with a tragic past or cross-referencing one's current despair. Mind the ladders as you walk beneath the single-occupant bell jars where the elevated archivists work their sewing machines and cylinder-engraving stations.
The cell-crabbed archivists hold little interest in teaching interlopers how to handle corpse wax cylinders or decant sighs from their protective glass. It would behoove anyone hoping for answers to spend several hours volunteering to muck the library's sky-funnels and bottle the collected sighs. Less physically inclined visitors may find the assistance they need with the offering of a 20/80 mixture of tears and ink.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A familiar sigh that provides a new rank 1 Trait chosen by another player.
At the Cobbler's Mausoleum, long-gloved docents invite visitors to walk a mile in someone else's shoes, boots, or clogs. Walking an unfamiliar path can unlock new vistas or invite captivating nostalgia. Either way, a poor fit can lead to some nasty blisters. Visitors typically follow a marked path that leads from the black stone mausoleum and through a warren of caves where the docents cool their toasty pods in pools of liquid bronze.
All records of donated footwear are kept in the masoleum's nave, recorded in a chained book the size of an overstuffed sofa. Given enough time and a surfeit of muscle, a visitor could learn a great deal about the feats of the departed.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A disinterred set of footwear that provides a new rank 1 Trait, as determined by another player.
The Alabaster Athenaeum is a shining, congenial cluster of tower on a terraced hill. Its shelves are laden with out-of-date textbooks and disproven knowledge. After all, once its' scholars subtract all the world's falsehoods, the Truth will remain. Every crumb of false knowledge, from the ridiculous to the profane, provides a means of interrogating the incontrovertible unity.
The most lively debates at the Athenaeum take place among the underground cisterns, far from the radiance of the campus solar collectors. Mosaics depicting infamous quacks and grifters jeer at the hardened academics as they defend their non-theories in service of the world above.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A disproven treatise that allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
The Antelope Archive claims to hold a perfect specimen of every animal in existence. Its shelves – or “pens” as outsiders call them – are indeed laden with an abundance of squirming, shrieking beasts of all descriptions. However, visitors often find themselves in conflict with the staff over the definition of perfection. To many, a fossilized swamp gaboon is a poor replacement for the creature itself.
Cataloging life as it is lived is a difficult task. Without proper distance from the subjects, the data becomes too familiar, too insular. For this reason, the staff often recruit outsiders to serve as honorary know-nothings: an advisory committee tasked with solving obtuse organizational queries, free from intrigue and guile.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: An overheard argument worth a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
The Bone Chapel offers something for everyone, be they sculptors or historians. Other visitors may also find materials of interest, but the helpful ghosts who maintain the collection would be perplexed to encounter someone who is neither one nor the other. Surely, at a fundamental level, everyone is either a sculptor or a historian!
The heart of the Bone Chapel's collection consists of boo~ooks and genealogical records, shelved amid blue-veined transi – sculptures of rotting bodies, ribs and shins exposed to the sepulchral air. The chapel ghosts keep the sculptures stocked with surprises to enliven even the dustiest research: a preserved heart is common, but a sleeping bat will do in a pinch. It is said these sculptures often bear designs or faces familiar to travelers, but they are all quite old.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: Ghostly protection worth a one-time reroll of any die except as part of the epilogue roll.
In the Caviary, works of spectacular beauty and endless insight are painted on the bodies of hairless, winged guinea pigs. The librarians spend their days copying the texts from the old onto the bodies of the young and touching up the paint on the bodies of those who have had the information licked off.
The squeaking, skittish creatures are always out of order. “We have always done it this way,” the head librarian explains. “The paint manufacturers who fund us are quite specific in the grant requirements.” Any visiting scholars who could help with the grant-writing process would find firm friends among the stacks.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A guinea pig map that allows a one-time reroll on the Atlas.
This town illuminates why many of this forest's settlements are called Aviaries: the structures always look like massive bird cages. The panes of each Aviary are clear like glass but near impossible to shatter. Many of them are colored, sending kaleidoscopes of light down to the ground. Each pane sings a different tune when touched by the wind, resulting in lovely cacophonies that no mortal ensemble could hope to produce.
Anyone we ask says the same thing: that the Aviaries predate them all; that you will find them everywhere in the forests. Saint Brianna's Arboretum is the largest town, named for a statue you will find in the square. Brianna's appearance changes depending on who is staring at her, but all beholders smell the same roses, and see them clinging to her form.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A whiff of Brianna's roses whose smell reduces the traveler's Momentum by 1.
The mysteries of the Lost Aviaries disappear beneath the towering canopies of lush forests, but none of them are nearly as expansive or treacherous as the Verdant Whispers. The rails within the Whispers are rusted over and twist their way through this labyrinth of gargantuan trees and sweet-smelling flowers – but that assumes that there is even a railway to follow. At several points, we will be forced to drive the train along the roots of a tree, through the canopy above, or over layers of fallen leaves.
Sometimes, travelers will encounter relics of past expeditions or other trains like theirs blocking their path. Weathered down by the constant rain or bleached in unforgiving bursts of sunlight, little indication of their purpose or who these poor souls were remains.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: The recording of the voice of a lost traveler whose account provides 1 rank in a new Trait.
We see the glow long before the Aviary itself: a shock of purple, fiercely bioluminescent, shining brighter than the moon does at night. The flowers spill through the shattered gates, a beautiful army steadily invading the forest floor.
The scent of the Midnight Lights is subtle and sweet, and serve as a natural repellant to predators. The people who live here came to the Lights to die, for the flowers love corpses. In a ritual whose origins are lost to time, they leave food, drink, and pieces of their lives for travelers to pick up as they please. But if you've come to join them, they're ready to help you lay the first bricks of your house among the flowers.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: The catharsis of an old moment of trauma that provides a one-time re-roll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
After miles of forest and bird cages, the white seamless eggs of Bunker 377102 will come as a shock. This facility is the “heart” of the Lost Aviaries, but expeditioners swear that it moves like a thing alive. Perhaps it is true. We bought five maps from Aviary folks, and each mark for the Bunker was different.
At the break of dawn, the Bunker's eggs unfurl like colossal lilies. The angels of the Aviaries break free, shaking off the strange pink amniotic fluid from their bodies, scattering into the depths of the forests on clockwork wings. Their forms are human, their silver eyes speak of intelligence beyond our own, yet they communicate in echoing bell-like tones that our ears cannot comprehend.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A shard from Bunker 377102's eggs that allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
Do not let the friendliness of Emanation folks fool you. The people of this town belong to the Cult of White Eyes; their cheer comes from gorging themselves on Aviary angels. For them, eating one is worship. You'll see trophies everywhere: chimes made from gear guts and feathers, jewelry made from eyeballs or teeth. However, travelers are never forced to join a Hunt if they say no.
But, why NOT try eating an angel? No other place in the world offers a meal made from the divine.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A white lump of processed angel meat that causes 1 Damage and allows the traveler to re-narrate a single Trait check for any traveler. The check must still stick to the rules established in the roll's category (e.g. Success, Setback, etc.).
There are birds everywhere: big and small, familiar and strange, sweet or ornery. The noise of their cries songs deafens the unprepared; droppings are splattered on every surface. Curiously, the birds treat each other like flock, and band together against threats. They do not stop travelers, however, from coming to the House in search of treasure, making their home a popular rest stop.
The House itself is its own mystery. Furniture fit for royalty is artfully arranged in each room, and the murals tell a story of jilted love, magical transformations, and the Princess. If they are to be believed, then every bird you meet here is a suitor, turned mute and feathered as punishment for their transgressions.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A bird that's become fiercely attached to the traveler and allows a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
The biggest bellows you've ever seen are atop the winding staircase. Instead of a traditional signal fire and lens, there's a firepit and a cupola wide open to the salty breezes. Different pots, ladles, and even a rotisserie spit hang over the fire. The Scented Lighthouse can send multitudes of nuanced messages via smell so they roast hams or char herbs as necessary. Bundles of plants, sweet and foul smelling liquids, and fatty joints of different animals cover the gallery from floor to ceiling.
The lighthouse keeper, as is his nature, is already sleeping off some overindulgence in the vanilla rum. It would be dangerous for a fog to fall or Carnivore Wind to rush in, or a spontaneous tide to form, with so many sailboats far out in the bay.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A lingering perfume in the air around you. Your particular scent becomes one rank in a new Trait.
Cerulean waters twinkle over the crystal sands of the Steeple Town shallows. Each structure rises out of the water on stilts, with rope walkways to circle and skirt the deep blue holes punctuating the sea like weighty full stops. Above every hole, the scaffolding and heavy iron bells that give Steeple Town its name.
But these bells will never toll. They're armor for descending into the inhospitable depths of the many sinkholes. One small rectangle of tempered glass lets a diver view the underwater world. Everything glows down there, they say, and there's no need for light. In the merry town above, they scrape creatures from the outside of the bells and sell them from large tanks while sun-dappled antiquity shops hock artifacts from the deep.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A vision of another world, allowing a one-time reroll on the Atlas.
The seas were different once. Bigger and stranger, they teemed with oxygen and explosive growth. It's why the coast now sustains the metropolis of Corallus. The seas of the past invented new, impossible colors. Faded and lesser versions come through now, like the hippodrome inside the violet shell of a giant urchin. The poor folks live in what looks like whelk egg cases, the rich in ammonite fossils. Everyone rows little boats made of cockles. Most of the remains have opalized, and the city shines with a nacre beauty that's hard to resist.
Until the darker, drier side emerges. Fresh water is scarce, no rivers flow to this coast. Rains are a rare and festive event, when residents dance in the streets among giant barrels. In the dustier seasons, farmers cultivate succulents to provide the daily rations.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: The leaf from a jade plant. Prevents the next point of Damage taken.
By the time you're a quarter of the way down the bridge you see nothing but gentle, rolling waves in all directions. After what feels like displaced hours of endless blue, the conductor seems a little nervous. Aren't you halfway yet? But there it is on the horizon! FuelStop Bridge & Cafe! They carry everything from coal to sunshine for solar sails to dark matter. You can hook your train directly to a steamy geyser if that's what you need.
The train comes to a halt. Colorful signs and flashing lights advertise book swaps and miniature hot springs. Icy drinks and warming soups. A man in an apron grills little fish on a skewer over some coals, as if to show the efficacy of his product. Refreshed and refueled, onwards towards Cerebos!
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A custom fuel blend, exact ingredients a trade secret. The next time the train stops, roll twice on the Atlas and take the result you prefer.
I had no flower bed, no stone to mark the loss of my love to the sea. Adria, who was not a pirate no matter what they say. Adria, with rose-gold hair who could tie knots with her feet. She was taken from the deck by a Carnivore Wind during the spring tides. So says the only crewman who crawled out of that wreck.
So I'll go down to the Bloated Forest and find her strand. For every sailor lost at sea a new kelp whip grows and hoists its bladder upward. And every bladed leaf has the last words of someone gone with no other marker. I'll sift through a thousand wet regrets where the sea otters play and the limpets cling to their depressions. I need to know if her mate told the truth.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: a stranger's last words. Allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
"Hey there!" shouts the Shoal Boss. "You got any dead weight you wanna feed 'er before I close the lid on this one?" They slap the outside of a giant oyster. If a mammoth bivalve can look affectionate, this one does. It makes a purring sound like the grinding of bone gears. Another shoaler shovels garbage into the waiting maw.
At different points along the line of shellfish, more workers remove glistening pearls as fat as watermelons. Each one is made by slow compression of flotsam, jetsam, and useless memories. Some feed the giant creatures by pouring buckets of algae-rich seawater atop them. Wheelbarrows of garbage come in and wheelbarrows of pearls exit, as incessant as the tides.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A fist-sized pearl. Allows a one-time reroll of any die when releasing a touchstone.
Late in the day, the train moves from the desert into a forest of red-leaved trees and soon comes to a slow stop, resuming travel in the morning. The station is within a small town of human-sized voles: an inn, several houses, and a diner with incredible coffee.
The diner overlooks a perfectly circular clearing. Within that border, the grass is dead and brittle and there is one large tree, white-barked and leafless. At night, figures carrying dim lanterns come from the desert and enter the clearing, where the lanterns' slight flames die. The moonless night offers no clue as to the acts taking place therein.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A brittle blade of grass, that, when crushed, provides +1 rank to an existing Trait related to occultism.
The afternoon heat forces a stop in the shadow of a large rock to wait for the cooler temperature of evening. Forming a natural moisture catcher, the rocks enclose a deep, clear pool with one tree. Its leaves hang fleshy about its dark bark. Several passengers rush to the tree, pluck the rotten red fruit hanging from its branches, take big bites, then scrutinize the leering skull patterns of its seeds.
There is also a small cabin. A robed man emerges and speaks to the conductor for a moment, then ambles toward the onlookers, and asks if they have come to learn the nature of their death, as revealed in the seeds of the fruit. One of the fruit-eaters gasps, sighs, drops the fruit, and trudges into the desert.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: The dried seeds of a fruit telling you what will bring about your end. Use them to ignore your next point of Damage, unless it is what will bring your doom.
Sudonai is known for its color; every building is painted a unique hue and has vibrant pennants flying. In contrast, the inhabitants were dour and frowned at the train's arrival. A group of 8 white-robed men came to the baggage car and retrieved a heavy and lumpen bag. They threaded two stout poles through pockets on the bag and carried it to the center of town.
In a grim parade, the residents lined the streets of their passage. The contents of the bag began moving, gradually becoming more frantic. At the top of a hill they crossed through a circle of eleven small trees, each oozing a thick black sap, and into a rock-covered clearing to the broad, raised slab of stone at its center. The inhabitants of Sudonai followed, cutting off any view of their activities. When some began leaving, blood was sprayed across their faces and that thick, black sap stained the corners of their mouths.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A small vial of viscous black liquid that grants a new rank 1 Trait related to silence.
The forest has the familiar feel of your homelands. At the next station, the train pauses to take on water and other supplies. A rack of brochures sits beneath an arrow pointing toward the “Seven-Spired Elm,” promising the “Voices of the Enlightened”. A short walk leads to the promised elm, already rigged for climbing, with harnesses strewn about its base.
Climbers quickly move above this tree's canopy, revealing seven vertical branches, completely bare of leaves and bark. Chained to each distant top is an emaciated human figure chanting seemingly disconnected phrases. As they notice their visitors, their pronouncements become personal (including the events that prompted this journey, and events of greater shame.) If spoken to, they deny any offers of aid.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: The bracing shame of a memory best forgotten that allows the traveler to avoid gaining Momentum the next time they roll doubles.
The residents of Steven's Pride have a unique judicial process. When found guilty, the penitent is marched into a steaming crack in the earth to the depths of this chasm (often followed by the wealthy and bored), where a tree grows in a sulfurous, bubbling lake.
The tree is covered in thick, flesh-colored vines. When the penitent is thrown into the pool, the tendrils reach out, caress the visitor, and somehow gauge the cost of the penitent's malfeasance. They then extract this price: sometimes flesh or blood, sometimes bone, sometimes one's best memory. The penalty is paid and the guilty absolved. Sometimes people walk this path of their own accord, who have some hidden guilt to repay.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A scar signifying an incomprehensible forgiveness. Reduce the Momentum of one touchstone by 1.
The train enters an all-glass structure: a lush and beautiful botanical preserve, but the unexpected and shuddering stop brings a worrying “bang.” The train's engineers begin their repairs, but can't provide an expected time of completion. “First we have to figure out what broke.” But what an opportunity for a wonderful picnic!
The obvious centerpiece is nearby: a towering and perfect oak tree. It has a strong, thick, perfectly straight trunk, a rich brown bark, and leaves the green of healthy spring. But, from closer, the charade is obvious. This tree is fake. The trunk is bound and painted bones; the leaves are thin, tanned, and stained skin. A gardener approaches, but where his bucket would ordinarily contain trowels and shears, it instead carries a bonesaw and flensing knives.
Danger: 5; Keepsake: Well-maintained flensing knives that improve a Trait related to violence by 1.
Westcaster Junction has a second train station, connected to an old rail spur nobody uses anymore. It should be empty, but locals still linger there, waiting for a train that will never come. They're afraid they'll miss out if they leave: what if this time the train-calling rituals work? What if changing makes things worse?
Brave travelers could help by stealing a handcart and finding out why the spur was abandoned. Perhaps the other world it passes through has become too dangerous. Perhaps it's a ghost train, not for the living. Perhaps someone simply sabotaged the line to trap the town in the past. Only one thing's for certain: it's not coming. Just use the other station. The train is right there, people.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A newfound appreciation for letting go that reduces the traveler's Momentum by 1.
Liff is a bath town. Its hot springs are connected to ancient channels beneath the earth, where people once dumped unwanted words. The rituals used to banish words to the waters below still exist, but nobody knows what bulwoots are or how to vraff them.
Travelers can immerse themselves in the hot springs, which still sparkle with prothbur. If you find any new words on the tip of your tongue, you're free to write them down before they slip back into the water—but think it through first. The Famonismists might have been unfairly sent here for political reasons, but apponectors were forgotten for a reason, and only a scoundrel would let belgratch return to an unprepared world.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A pleasant feeling of marcement, which allows the traveler to re-narrate a single Trait check for any traveler. The check must still stick to the rules established in the roll's category (e.g. Success, Setback, etc.) The word is forgotten the following morning.
Marl is a lovely town in a pleasant little valley. The surrounding mountains are full of bone beds, and the town has a long history of fossil hunting. The fossil fighting is relatively new and extremely unappreciated.
The Marlonian Museum is co-owned by two palaeontologists turned bitter rivals. When they're not sabotaging each other in the field, their teams fight for control of the museum, riding the bones of extinct creatures into battle and building museum extensions to make their wings bigger. The locals would love for someone to brave the barricades and restore peace before the museum engulfs the town—and hey, it's free admission day!
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A fossil exhibit takes up residence on the train. The next time you take part in a shared flashback while admiring it, heal 1 Damage to any traveler.
The train doesn't normally stop at the Shuttered Observatory these days, but the lights aren't normally on. The Astrologer who just moved in is an intimidating figure, with constellations staining on her hands and stardust burning in her night-sky eyes, but she's glad for the company.
This ancient observatory may contain a star stolen from the sky in a past age, and the Astrologer is willing to trade supplies and time with the telescope in exchange for help with the search. There are records to review, dusty basements to explore, ancient machinery that can't be worked alone, and hungry wisps of moonlight to clear out. If the star really is here, the Astrologer could use help coaxing it safely into her carrier.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A strange horoscope which allows a one-time reroll on the Event table or a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check.
The spiral ruins of Ajki float above the tracks. Some of the ancient chains have broken, but the locals have kept most of the town tethered to the earth. They've also revived Ajko, the ruin's original language. Ajko is intelligent, friendly, and eager to tell travelers about Ajki's past as a home of musicians and bookbinders.
It could also use your help. People from nearby towns have moved into Ajki, and are trying to "modernize" the place by spreading their own language. As Ajko develops new slang and portmanteaus, its speakers' perceptions of reality change, and the ruins begin to creak and shudder ominously. Are any of you good with words?
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A few words of Ajko which really spoke to you. They provide +1 rank in an existing emotional or creative Trait.
Crowhaven University is one of those places you visit for the novelty. The University collects prophecies, but not just any prophecy—the predictions inscribed in their scrolls are terrible. When they're not discredited, they're uselessly vague, or so boring nobody cares that they're timed to the second, or just plain weird.
Travelers visit to ask if there's one about them. As luck would have it, alongside the usual dead-ends and prophecies about people visiting the University, your names are in the scrolls! Some scrolls predict good fortune, others predict imminent disaster, but they all have one thing in common: the professors would love to tag along to see if you defy them. Wait, what's that other scroll they keep looking at?
Danger: 3; Keepsake: An avant-garde prophecy from the post-predestination movement, which allows a one-time reroll on the Stop table.
The afternoon stop is just outside the town of Lux. Many passengers purchase picnic baskets from a local stand and enjoy a leisurely afternoon looking over the wind-carved rocks of the desert. Others visit the Lux Amphitheater. Tickets are a reasonable price: three pins. Inside, the ancient amphitheater is cut into the rock. Descending rows of benches surround an obelisk topped by a broken metal spire.
Around the base of the obelisk are the remnants of the carvings that once covered it. The time-worn stone looks to have once been carved human faces, but any meaningful detail has been lost. Exiting the amphitheater goes through the gift-shop, where a variety of cheaply-printed mystic interpretation books can be purchased.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: An inconsistent and incoherent book — The Prophecy of the Pillar — that nevertheless allows you to re-roll one time on the Almanac.
The residents of the cliff city of Urn moved into these caverns they found abandoned, but full of room after room of wax-sealed urns. To respect the history, they neither add caverns, nor manipulate the urns in any way, imprisoning anyone who breaks one.
Those who made their way into the deepest caverns (without breaking any urns… of course), find an altar and a statue of a robed gondolier. The few who have found this relic speak about how it brought “clarity” and then they smile with a placid contentment. These residents are among the most fanatical about preserving the urns.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: An abiding reverence for pottery that grants a new rank 1 Trait related to pottery or history.
The residents of Chimes live with wax-stuffed ears. In the city, atop a hill, is a large, gothic structure. Flying buttresses support a series of connected domes, each a different size and shape. Inside, the floor is a bowl matching the dome above. While walking on the suspended metal pathway, each step makes an echoing musical tone. Walking through the Domes plays a loud and echoing melody.
The Domes are a popular tourist spot. Phonoarchivists debate its origin, both the physical construction and musical composition. However, Chimers have begun to question why their lives should be so curtailed for the enjoyment of tourists. Thus far, efforts to sabotage the Domes have been thwarted by the Tourism Board's Aural Guard and travelers are advised there are violent gangs of anti-Dome terrorists.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: A scroll of musical notation of the song played by walking the domes that grants a new rank 1 Trait related to musicology.
Archeologists have recently unearthed the lost Temple of the Harvest in the ecumenopolis of Plains. Rumor has it the entrance was concealed by construction rubble from about 150 years ago that no one bothered to clean up. Entrance is allowed with permission (obtained by a sizable donation to the Academicia).
From inside, the temple is a large, triangular, stone building with a coffered, concrete dome. Light pours through the oculus above. The floor is covered in moss and ferns. Faded frescoes of agricultural scenes can be made out, if only just. Achaeotheorizers train their student-docents to inform visitors these frescoes signify pre-modern plant-worship.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A moment of mirth regarding the disconnected nature of Plains' academicians that can reduce the Damage of any 1 Traveller by 1.
The train stops next to a wide river with a grassy island. Atop a hill is a large, bronze statue of an armored woman kneeling and reaching her arm in a welcoming gesture. Strung about the statue are lines of rigging; a crane of sorts connected to a bundle of iron anvils which block the tracks. The conductor hands a small package to a crew member, who attempts to cross the river leaping across the uneven pilings of wood that indicate where a bridge once stood.
On the island, a group of rough-looking men gather, watch, and laugh as the crew member falls into the river who returns to the train with an obvious ankle-injury. The conductor asks if any of the travelers would deliver the now sodden “toll” to the “gatekeepers” on the island. Crossing the pilings is difficult, but the train cannot move until the men remove the anvils… or someone does.
Danger: 3; Keepsake: An anvil. Next time it comes in handy – even as a symbol of steely determination – it provides the bearer a one-time reroll of any die.
The morning's stop is listed in the itinerary as a “nature walk.” A tour guide waits for the train's passengers and leads them onto a boardwalk and through the lightly forested area. Alternatively, there is a path of stone ascending the forested mountain.
The steps are broad and easy to climb, worn from many thousands of feet treading them. Every 117 steps is a small shrine: a plinth topped with a brass bowl of water, worn by travelers who washed their hands therein. The path ends at a pool of water and offers an incredible view of the forested valley. A traveller who has cleansed their hands at each stop and then bathes in the pool, is “relieved of their burdens.” No one remembers this, not even the nearby tour guides.
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A cleansed spirit that reduces the Momentum of one touchstone by 1.
CRENSHAW'S GUIDE TO THE MOST INVIGORATING COMMUNAL SPRING
The Greatest Sanitarium in this Wild World, So Says the Esteemed Crenshaw
Abandon your woes at the high altitude of Alabaster Springs, and descend anew. Every disease henceforth is perfectly treated, without exception, though should exception arise the patient will experience a glorious privilege nonetheless: Worm Throat, Terminal Vowel Syndrome, Morgellons, Persistent Drywall Odor, Death, Hot Pores. CRENSHAW APPROVED.
True Testimonial! “In these blessed bath waters, the unrelenting fog rolling through the recesses of my mind did indeed relent. My children say they have never seen me so alert to the frequent imperceptible dangers of daily living.” WOW!
Danger: 1; Keepsake: A vial containing a murky liquid that prevents the next point of Damage the traveler would take… but it tastes very gross!
A colorful sign lures the travelers to an attraction dedicated to an alleged “Lizardwoman of Pine Ravine.” A small booth sells handmade lizard-related crafts, the owner a man so worn down by existence he readily admits no lizards live in the area, let alone lizardwomen. His daughters, however, confide they are haunted by a tall creature with a tongue faster than a whip, and their dad doesn't believe them.
Maybe there's proof in the dormant well, an intimidating structure built from clay tablets inscribed with logographic writing, where it's said the lizardwoman emerges in times of strife to shame mankind. Or maybe it's better to just enjoy a tall tale.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A cheap rubber lizardwoman mask, allowing a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check related to surprise or deception.
Over time, a railroad grows barnacle communities: folks who barter fuel, food, trinkets, but no longer aspire to names. At one such place, a purveyor of souvenirs plays a bone instrument that splits wind into hollow chambers, producing a sound hard on the ears. In the past, he claims, this instrument announced the coming and going of life, a practice of his culture lost to ecological annihilation.
However, the salesman is reluctant to part with the instruments. Eviction notices fill a nearby trash can, signed by a hard-hearted stationmaster who wants them for the line's locomotives. The railroad that sustains this man would also devour him.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A bone woodwind of ritual significance that allows a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check related to death or destruction.
At the entrance to a dusty city, a plaque juts from the dirt: In the Golden Year, kindred soldiers emancipated the people of Hardscrabble, marking the end of the bloody Three Year Siege. Hardscrabble became a safe haven for refugees, who helped resist outbreaks of guerrilla vandalism. This plaque was erected as a tribute to five decades of peace.
The plaque is otherwise obscured by paint that reads: “FREE HARDSCRABBLE,” signed with a flourish. Many of the town's buildings—intentionally antiquated, calling back to a previous era—are covered in fresh caricatural murals that depict local leaders in various states of decapitation. Uniformed officers stand over prisoners, who scrub away with tiny brushes.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: The severed bronze limb of a historically revisionist monument that allows a one-time reroll on the Almanac.
Heavy rain and winds force an unplanned stop near a rural mansion made of dirt, rock, and straw. A long portico wraps around the structure, projecting a confusing silhouette. According to a sign, the public can enjoy an informative tour about a series of grisly murders that happened here—vivid portrayals of every hack, stab, and slash. Tickets free for children!
A family cemetery decorates the courtyard… victims, or killers? A charismatic host explains that every traveler must sign a liability waiver before the tour. The crumbling architecture, you see. Nothing to do with a generational family curse.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A ceremonial family knife that lowers the owner's Momentum by 1, but only if they deal another traveler 1 Damage.
THE MUSEUM OF EDWARD THE REGIONALLY FAMOUS CAPYBARA
Welcome to the Museum of Edward the Regionally Famous Capybara! In the East Wing, you may peruse a gallery of sculpture and portraiture created in tribute to Edward, organized by artistic period. Those hoping to meet Edward's descendents will find them in the West Wing, where they often emerge from their bioactive habitat to greet visitors. Do not feed them.
We are not associated with any other institutions dedicated to Edward the Capybara. Any other animals claimed to be Edwardian descendents are impostors. We are the only DNA-tested caretakers of Edward's distant offspring.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A small effigy of a beloved Capybara that allows a one-time reroll of any die when making a Trait check or releasing a touchstone.
Keepsakes from these Stops can be used as normal, or to replace a roll on the Almanac with the Stop's return as an Event.
The Cyclopean Gorge is bound on all sides by a labyrinth of pink granite. The serpentine grotesque contained within has become trapped by its dreams. The scent of gore infuses all aspects of life in the labyrinth, where the oneiric citizens are proud of their victories and quick to draw arms. They subsist on the beast's meat and power their industry with its blood.
The founding gorgefolk sprang fully formed from grotesque's dreams, but these days no one is wholly of the Gorge. The effects of the creature awakening is a matter of great debate. Will their works of blood and bone disappear, or will they be free to search for a new purpose?
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A concave scale of heart-pounding street meat fried in cactus oil whose taste reduces the traveler's Momentum by 1.
Modern science cannot explain the night rain of the Yat Plateau, which evaporates at light's touch. The bramble-capped oddlers eke out a living in the semi-arid region by maintaining a series of canals and underground cisterns. Over generations, they have learned to see in the dark and exhale ink, which is used to seal cracks against the all-consuming light.
The oddlers' cousins tend subterranean farms, grinding luminescent boletes to meal in butterfly-winged windmills. Desert winds and oddler-breath are anathema to the delicate contraptions. Outsiders willing to spend time huffing and puffing in the heights hear about the oddlers' silent-winged barges and the spores they save to spread on starless nights.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: A wax-wrapped loaf of night bread that allows the traveler to heal 2 Damage from non-physical sources.
The origins of Scaraba, the Dream of a City, lay in a mountainous land of hot springs and ill-tempered goats. The original inhabitants left their city to the replacements: the temporary mayor, the pickpocket's understudy, and folk “pretending to be innkeeps” for nigh-fifteen years now. They keep the plaster fresh and press the olives, but rarely take risks.
The replacements dream of a city of shallow pools and narrow causeways where pill bugs the size of wolves unearth machines of malachite and crimson. The new undertaker says these dreams caused the initial exodus, while the impromptu dentist claims they show the source. Either way, the dream may follow travelers, returning them to Scaraba wherever they roam.
Danger: 5; Keepsake: Strange grit sticks in your shoes. Until the end of the next Stop, it leaves a trail that allows the traveler to avoid gaining Momentum when they roll doubles.
☐ Is this your first visit to Jamjar, seat of the Vespine Throne?
☐ Have you failed to replace your solar curtains within the past fortnight?
☐ Have you had an allergic reaction to Jamjari pomegranate cakes within the last six months?
☐ Do you often find yourself lost in interconnected courtyards, regardless of your caste mark?
☐ Do you regularly view the night sky between the Hour of Calm and the Hour of Ascent?
☐ Before visiting Jamjar, have you ever heard the impending drone of the chrome apiaries?
☐ Have you ever observed the Aurora Rex, localized entirely within your train car?
If you answered “Yes” to five or more of these questions, you have been prophesied to kill our beloved king. A gendarme will escort you to the nearest self-defense annex for trial.
Danger: 2; Keepsake: The heroic sight of the Aurora Rex provides +2 ranks to one of the traveler's highest Traits.
Weathered limestone stumps litter the hills surrounding the former city of Aphelion. Fallen towers and pitted sculptures stand testament the folly of the Moon Trap, which still holds its unruly prey. The survivors of the Lunar Annexation Act, if any remain, are indistinguishable from the scavengers and transient archeologists that have recently begun their plunder of Aphelion's copper pipes and ossuaries.
The Diminished Moon floats in a valley north of the makeshift train depot. The more famous satellite's twin is compacted to the size of a city block, but may reach its former glory if freed. The resulting gravitic surge and free-roaming stalwart may not serve the emancipator's best interests. Far safer to chip off a souvenir or leave one's initials like everyone else.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: A fist-sized hunk of moon that follows at a healthy distance. It zips forward to absorb the next point of Damage the traveler would take.
Before the rails reached Cerebos, many pilgrims depended on burrowing squid tunnels to make the journey. These days, the tunnels have been repurposed by the Ambrogio & Kwan transcription service. Ravenous scribes congregate in the central warren, recording their findings on succulent leather with white enamel typewriters. Their translations are incorrect by all conventional measures, but scholars value them for their esoteric insights.
When the world is prepared, clerks fill their dromadraries with books. Each mobile library holds a dissertation's worth of offal in its velour concavities. Their hump-hardened handlers ride the squid roads, ion lances close at hand to protect against errant arms. They will bluster or barter for meat, quick to supplement their rapidly decaying wares until they reach market.
Danger: 4; Keepsake: An edifying mistranslation that allows a one-time reroll on the Atlas.