In ancient times, men became gods, laid claim to the stars, and sought to solve the mysteries of the infinite. Yet as they became saviors, they also became their own damnation. For it was not divine intervention, plague, or cataclysms which brought there great and terrible histories to a close. No, in the end it was nothing more than simple hubris. And so their world came down, the threads frayed and their lives shattered. As time has moved onward and wounds thought too grievous have hence healed, much of the world before the Long Silence has been relegated to myth and scripture based on the remnants which remain.
As things are life today is too dangerous to dwell on a past that cannot be understood. So we excavate just enough to help us survive in the world which we must dwell. We know that energies and knowledge are suspended invisibly in the air, that reshaped continents of iron and glass—below, upon, and above the earth—hold vast treasures, and that secret doorways to stars and other dimensions and realms provide power and secrets and death. To call it magic, may just as well be truth for all of our understanding.
Upon the eastern expanse of the reclaimed world lies a loose confederation of city-states collectively called the Holdings. Each of these independently-minded entities has a ruler to call their own, but all are under the watchful gaze of the Priory, the central faith of the reclaimed world. A faith based upon the understanding of the past, treating its technology as divine and the Long Silence; the punishment for its abuses. Its leader, the Archon arguably being one of the most influential, if not thee most influential figure in all of the Holdings.
Yet beyond the Holdings, the world is still a wild and untamed place. What clusters of civilization exist do so as isolated islands avast uncharted lands filled with dangers. Here death lurks around every corner as monsters, the loose remnants of past attempts at creating life, roam the lands unchecked by the protective aura of civilization. Yet where there is danger there is also opportunity for wealth and power. These wild lands are the domains of krewes, teams of adventures for hire paid fair compensation for their work to plunder the ruins of old in search of technology. These brave souls are the lifeblood of existence, their blood allowing for civilization to flow.
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."
~ Arthur C. Clarke
Reforged is a science-fantasy setting set a few thousand years after the hypertech descendants of humanity destroyed themselves. Those left behind dwell admits a sea of what refuse remains from this collapse. Unimaginably huge machines lie beneath the earth, and satellites orbit high above, transmitting a web of data and free energy. Nanotech, artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, teleportation, and superdense polymers which allowed for the reshaping the planet. What this allows is a rather peculiar mixture of low fantasy and science fiction, where knights can just as easily be found jousting one another from within the cockpits of giant robots as they can horses, and wizards command nanomachines and dark energy as they would spells from a scroll. At is core though it is an adventure story with some humor, some horror and lots of friendship, set in a backdrop of a strange and magical world.
What do I get to do?
Players will begin in Mournhold, the most outwardly laying city of the Holdings. Mournhold is a bustling and swiftly growing settlement fueled by the technology that flows through its gates on its way to the rest of the Holdings. Naturally, it's home to many krewes and henceforth many independent and free-spirited individuals some looking to find work with said krews, and others looking to profit on the business of supplying and tending to the needs of these adventures. Yet all is not idyllic here as its proximity to wild lands leaves the city in contest threat of danger from both monster and barbarian looking to plunder its riches. And, of course with such a swiftly growing place systemic corruption on a bureaucratic level is well rampant to say the least on the manner.
You are a member of the Vigil, a reputable and large krewe that operates within Mournhold. Two years ago, the Vigil was commissioned to aid in the defense of the city from an encroaching tribe of barbarians. After ten months of defending supply routes, ambushes, border skirmishes, and a foiled assassination attempt, the barbarians withdrew without ever engaging on the field in open combat. The viscount of Mournhold was impressed with the Vigil's results and has extended the contract to remain in the city as an auxiliary to the city guard. Three weeks ago, a shipping vessel that had been traveling down the Vira river has stopped in Mournhold. Its cargo and crew have been organizing an expedition to travel the rest of its journey towards Ashfoot, a priory excavation site working on excavating the ruins of one of the floating citites which fell during the Long Silence. The caravan leader, Priory Steward Helmer Byerel, has requested the use of a small contingent of the Vigil to escort his troupe the rest of the way. Two dozen of the company were selected for the task. You are among that group.
The Vigil.
Thirty years ago, a small group organized themselves into a Krewe calling themselves the Vigil. In the years since, the Vigil has grown into an international effort of associated krewes led by an elected council. Though the Vigil are generally well trained and supplied, their success can mostly be attributed to business branch - the administrators and representatives responsible for contract negotiations - who are perhaps even more ruthless than those in the field.
The Vigil is not one singular outfit, but rather a conglomeration of dozens of smaller krewes who have submitted themselves to the authority and standards of the Leading Council. The benefits of signing with the Vigil are notoriety, access to requisitions at reduced cost, and the option of pooling together with another Vigil chapter to meet the requirements some of the larger contracts stipulate. That the Vigil typically sends the closest local chapter to fulfill a contract also helps protect the reputation of the organization. Krewes comprised mostly of locals helps mitigate some of the more disagreeable behaviors that foreign mercenaries might exhibit, especially when the land and people they are protecting are not their own.
If all the local companies under the Vigil banner were to assemble, their numbers would surpass five-thousand. This, however, is a theoretical estimation that in reality would be virtually impossible without breaking dozens if not hundreds of ongoing contracts across the Holdings.
The viscount in Mournhold has contracted a retainer of one-hundred Vigil soldiers to remain in the city to aid in training and transitioning military responsibilities to the viscount's footsoldiers.
You are one of those one-hundred.
They who walk the land.
Yer a wizard harry.
Drafters are sometimes called mages, wizards, sorcerers, or witches by the people of the Reclaimed World. Some claim to be the representatives of gods or other supernatural agencies. Whatever they’re called, these individuals have come to understand the mysteries of the past to the degree that they seem to perform miracles. They tap into Technology to alter reality or learn things that they couldn’t otherwise know. Drafters come in two distinctive forms which are dependent on how they interact with the technology around them to perform their magic. Those who through various tiny devices that they possess, which seem like magic charms to the uninitiated, “conjure” energy. By accessing the surrounding web of connectivity transmitted across the world, they connect with machines — including the nanites — to change their environment. To become such a person takes years of study, but there is a quicker way. You become a very special kind of Clank. Those who have had their nervous system laced with circuitry, and their body sporting jacks and ports where they plug in modules and other technological bits that provide their capabilities. When they produce effects, they do so through their body’s direct mechanical interface.
There are also of course what are called High Smiths. These alchemists and artificers have spent their entire lives analyze and understanding the underlying mechanism behind recovered technology. Using their knowledge they are capable of jury-rigging seemingly useless odds and ends of recovered technology into fabulous creations. Anyone can split a few wires to make an old battery into a bomb, but a High Smith can make wrecks into cannons and gravity generators into personal deflector shields for the right price of course. Because of the skill and knowledge it takes to perform such feats High Smiths are very rare especially beyond the Holdings and most if not all are of Cellva blood as their long lifespans work mean that spending seventy years submerged in reading old recovered mechanical designs and taking apart salvaged tech isn't too much of a time sink.
