Natural Disasters on Searbay Island

This is the third post expanding on the original scenario generator , and this time we're looking at possible natural disasters that you can use as the basis of a scenario.

Roll 1D6:

1. Wild fires
2. High tide/surge
3. Landslide
4. Drought
5. Fallen tree/wind
6. Mosquitoes

Anything from a fire raging across the island heading for Carlyle, to a miasma of mosquitoes draining every mouse's life blood. The concept of using a natural disaster is ripe for exploitation during play. Even if the main scenario isn't based on an event in this table, you could use this as a sub list to add spice to the main story.

Joining the commune

Blowing-feather crouched on the fallen log scanning the trees and the sky overhead. Her eyes also watched the gaps between the trees, constant vigilance was a requirement of the Corp and the duty was her life. Her ears however couldn’t ignore the conversation taking place below.

“Why should I come with you?”

“I’ve told you. You’ll be safer as part of the community. You’re safer on the island. We don’t let the thousand enemies onto the island.” That was Daisy-petal repeating himself again.

“Over the water! Are you crazy? My family can’t swim that far and there could be anything is the water just waiting for the chance to eat us!”

“We'd be there to protect you, and we go over the water you wouldn’t even get wet. You’d be safe, not just on the way, but for the rest of your life.”

“So what about-” He stopped suddenly at a shout from above.

“Sir!” Blowing-feather pulled her staff from its sheath. “Owl.” The word was whispered as she snapped her visor closed.

“Down!” Daisy-petal thrust the outlander mouse into the leaf mould and turned following Blowing-feather’s gaze.

The owl was coming fast, swinging left and right through the branches with its eyes locked onto Blowing-feather. Daisy-petal unpouched his bolas and stepped clear of the log spinning them above his head. It would be mere breaths until it reached them, but enough time for him to wonder if the owl had met the Mecha Corp before. If it had, it would recognise the suits and swing away.

It started a dive and that answered the question, it was new to the area. A sly smile twitched onto his face. “Time to teach the beast a lesson.”

Blowing-feather raced along the log toward the oncoming owl, the last thing it would expect. Daisy-petal shouted as loud as he could and let his bola fly. The powerful arms of the Mecha suit gave strength to the bolas flight and as he had planned, his shout had attracted the owls gaze for a moment. A moment that gave Blowing-feather her opening.

In the that heart-beat she leapt, clearing the owls reaching talons and smashing into its soft underbelly. She thrust her power staff into the down and it discharged. The owl flinched at the shock just as the bolas whipped into its face. With a deafening squeal it turned suddenly away. There was utter silence for three breaths. The outland mouse gasped and lifted his head in time to see Blowing-feather smash in a tree and tumble to earth a good distance off.

"I've never seen any mouse stand up to an owl."

"It's what we do." Daisy-petal closed his bola pouch. He wrinkled his nose. They had been good bolas, he would regret their loss.

"It's a shame it killed you friend."

"Killed?"

"Yes. Were you good friends?"

"She is not dead." He rested a hand on the nervous outland's shoulder.

"But, the owl. She hit the tree."

Blowing-feather appeared back on top of the log. "We need to go."

Daisy-petal smiled up at her and noted the discharge burns on her staff. They were running out of weapons. "We're heading back to the island. Will you come with us?"

The outland mouse was staring open mouthed at Blowing-feather. He blinked, turned to Daisy-petal , nodded.

"Get your family. We need to move quickly and reach home before full dark."


This story is available in Polish!

C'luin from the outland

C'luin is what is known as an "outland" mouse. That's a mouse not born on Searbay island but born on the mainland. He was discovered by a Mecha Corp patrol wandering the grasslands, injured and starving.

He was carried to island and nursed back to health. His story was all too familiar. His home destroyed, and his family killed by a predator that he didn't even clearly see. His only memory of the attack was of his family screaming as giant paws scraped away the roof to his home, and a giant betoothed maw reaching for him. He does not choose to speak of it.

C'luin fitted into the Carlyle community quickly and without trouble and soon became a trusted and reliable community member. Without prompting he took to leading the collection and processing of wood and grass for the meeting-hall fires. He it often seen out in the wilds of the island collecting bundles for drying and storage.

He has few close friends and uses few words but everyone knows and respects him. He has often paused from his own duties to help another before moving on, without waiting for signs of gratitude. During one winter feast, the community got together to shower him with gifts and other signs of honour and gratitude. He was deeply moved as everyone present could tell, but he he could not speak. In the days that followed, it was noted that he was handing out the gifts he had received but always to those who had a need. Once again proving his grace and wisdom to the community.

Shortage based scenarios

A few posts back I gave a list of six categories that can form the basis of a Mecha Mice scenario, one of those categories was "Shortages". Here's an expanded list of shortages that can form the basis of a scenario

Roll 1D6:

1. Food
2. Coal
3. Work force
4. Boats
5. Time
6. Mecha Suits

 Once you've rolled/chosen your option spend a little while thinking about how the mouse society is going to be effected and what might have to be done to resolve the issue.

A shortage of food is an obvious crisis, but what happened to the food? Did it get wet and rot? if so, are the tunnels still flooded, do they need to be drained?

A work force shortage might be due to industrial action, or an attack by one of the thousand enemies. If no one is left to mine black-stone, how will they make metal tools! If there's no one to collect the seed during summer, how can they find more mice to do the work. Remember mouse society is structured around "face" and convincing a member of the Mecha Corp to lower herself to "collect seed" would cause a lot of friction and insult.

Getting to the Black-stone mine

The mice used to mine black-stone on the island but not any longer. The island mine ran out of black-stone about four years ago. Searching the nearby mainland for another source of black-stone was an epic adventure, but more black-stone was found.

The new mine is out of sight of the island over the hill crest. The journey to the new mine is perilous but many mice have to make that trip almost every day. In an effort to make the journey to the mine less dangerous a safe-path is being constructed on the mainland from the beach all the way to the mine. It is not complete yet and probably wont be completed for another year or two.

The safe path is a combination of full tunnel and covered way. It starts beneath a rock on the beach and heads uphill towards the mine. The tunnel passes under the rock and on the far side a ditch has been excavated and covered over with twigs and grass. The long term plan is eventually to dig this ditch deeper and cover it over with soil making it a complete tunnel, but that is going to have to wait until the covered way is completed.

The full journey to the mine, crosses the water of the bay, climbs the beach, dives into the short tunnel under the rock and along the covered way which already reaches to the top of the first hill. From that point mice have to rely on their wits and the protection of the Mecha Corp as they run to the mine in the valley beyond.

Each day as the mice return with their loads of black-stone, they spend a short time to extend the covered way a little.

Scenario - Political

Following on from the post before last when I listed some core possibilities for scenarios, here's another simple list expanding on the political options. This is just a suggestion, and you shouldn't limit yourself to just these.

Roll 1D6:

1. Jurisdiction clash between Corp and Cops
2. Secessionist group wishes to seek another island
3. A split in the council over which work needs to be done
4. A call for war with the squirrels/rats/mainland
5. Someone demands control of the Mecha Corp
6. An influx of refugees are causing concerns

Floating-seed and the Hawk

Floating-seed’s eyes were tightly closed and she really didn’t want to open them. However, the training given her as a member of the Mecha Corp was squeaking away at the back of her mind. “Open your eyes Floating-seed, see, assess, react.” Over and over the words bubbled up, but her eyes remained shut as her heart pounded so fast she thought she might die. Then the repeating words morphed, changing from her own voice into the sounds and words of her Paw leader.

She opened her eyes, and gasped.

Below her, so very far below, were the waters that surrounded Searbay island, the waters that kept them safe. As she thought of that she shook her head and felt the sad irony. She wasn’t safe now, the water hadn’t kept her safe from…A bird. A glance to her waist showed a taloned foot gripping her armoured waist. She turned her head straining to look upwards at the beast that had her. Grey and brown feathers and a great hooked beak. She started shaking, she’d never been so close to one of the enemies. In all her thirty days in the Corp she’d never once had had to use her weapons.

At the thought of weapons she  went to reach for her power staff, but her foreleg was pinned by the hawks massive foot.  Besides, she could see the staff was also pinned and bent out of shape, probably wouldn’t work. Her other foreleg was free and after a little effort she discovered she could reach her bolas.

See.

In the hawks claws flying away from Searbay.

Assess. 

Power staff useless, only one forepaw free, bolas to hand.

React.

She unbuckled the pouch and pulled the bolas free. She needed its full length so she let it slide though her metal gloved paw until she grasped the rope just above one of the balls. She got it spinning, and then keeping a firm grasp on the rope swung the other end to smack into the neck of the hawk. Nothing, no reaction. She swung again. This time the bird issued a tremendous screech and bent its head down. Floating-seed screamed as the huge pointed beak sped towards her face, only to be deflected from the suits glass helmet. Still screaming with fear she swung the bolas again, the far end swung around the pointed end of the beak and in the same instant she twisted her wrist , winding the other end around her suit glove.

The bird couldn’t pull its head free. It screeched again, flipped through a barrel roll, kept tugging at the wired bolas and then it let go with its claw. With a flick of its mighty head Floating-seed was whiplashed into freedom and flying through the air.

As Floating-seed tumbled through the air she realised the water of the bay was behind her and that below was a canopy of woodland trees. Somewhere above her the hawk screeched at its lost prey but she paid it no heed, she concentrated on the woods below looking for way to survive a landing. One problem at a time she thought