.....To move in these blue dunes is to be marooned in the past, for I drank from the ikor of slumbering mountains and recited cants of yore to the hums of their quivering star wombs.....

- Last Words of Jhull Khonia, Apostle of the Promised Sun

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Mirage is a dice-based quest based on the tabletop RPG: Vaults of Vaarn. The setting is essentially a dying-earth retrofuturistic science fantasy RP with vibes of Dune, Moebius and Gamma World. People are free to join and leave the quest at their leisure at any time. Their only requirement for participation is to vote an action or dice roll in the OOC tab. Actions are decided based on simple majority whilst dice rolls are decided by whoever rolls first.

[x] - A pair of bolas wound tightly around your blue-skinned ankles. You can make out the whorled tattoos of the sand krakens that your clan has worshipped for millennia.

Choice: Faa Nomad

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You almost want to laugh at the irony of the situation. A Faa such as yourself dying in the depths of the Vaarnish Interior is akin to a dromadon dying from thirst. Pride and anger then bubbles within your belly. You would not die some honorless death. You would die by Vaa’s grace and rejoin your ancestors in the cyan sands that birthed your flesh and blood.

You tug at your arms, only to realize that they are bound together in a knot of rope that snakes around the wrists, tearing painfully at your skin. Your teeth and jaws gnash together, trying to bite through the gag that is stuffed in your mouth. The only movement you can make resembles a memory of a juvenile sand kraken that your clan heads once captured deep in the Interior.

It’s only after a while that you realise that there is no hope here.

You sigh, reminiscing at your past memories, letting the blue desert speak to you.

The sandy winds whisper your name to you………

Pick one choice and post in OOC

[X] - Ikrush

[X] - Rence

[X] - Cirus

[X] - Roll a d20

[X] - Write in………..

The stars flash above, dying constellations painting a picture of your past. Clouds of comets swirl in an image only you know is true to your heart, the truth for why you left the safety of your clans, it was because….

Pick one choice and post in OOC

[X] - Of forbidden love.

[X] - Of adventure to Gnomon, the Jewel of the Badlands

[X] - Of murder

[X] - Roll a d20

[X] - Write in………

Your thoughts are interrupted by a snide comment that scrambles your mind ofr a moment. Your Vaarnish is well-spoken but many years wandering the phtalo plains of the Vaarnish Interior have left your verbal lexicon lacking. The snide comment repeats itself again, as it grows closer in your ear.

“ Well, look who we have here.”

Roll 4d20 and post result in OOC

You chose…..

[X] - Cirrus

[X] - An instinct to wander ( At first, it was a forbidden love. Then, it was out of exploration, traveling to the distant land in myth and legends. But then, it was simply out of necessity. Because, apparently, there is no longer a home once I embarked on this journey. I called the world my home, its multitude of people as my people, forfeiting the safety of my birthplace in exchange for the vastness of the world. So now, I wander off to the distant shore and its people. Traveling become the only constant in this life. )

You rolled……..
4,15,16,10

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The source of the interruption approaches you, mechanical whining from every movement it makes. It’s skin shimmers with a metallic luster under the starlight and its single optic protruding out from its bulbous head, whirrs to observe you. Spindly four-toed legs, crouched like a viridian leaper, part the sand softly. It leans its head forward so close that his lens almost hits you in the eye.

“ A long way from your clan, aren’t you?,” The leader croaks in an electronic purr as his sickled arms scratch your skin slowly, pricking it to leave beads of red. You pull your head away only for a hand to grab it and force you to look at him. Others enter your view. They are born of the sickness that the Autarchs prospered onto the phtalo plains, flesh misshapen into hideous proportions with features sewn from other roaming beasts. Chains and collars adorn their bodies. They are armed with sylph-like rifles, latthe barrels wired through with copper and gold.

“ Why have you captured me, synth?,” you hiss.

“ Isn’t it obvious.” The robot walks away from you towards the campfire, seemingly entranced by the lick of flames that lash out from the conflagration. “ This land was built on the source code of my builders. I seek to understand their purpose, free myself from the shackles of my soulware. I have sought freedom of self for others. Now, I seek a new experiment for a Faa such as yourself. Enriching ourselves in the discovery of your Faa flesh to discover what secrets the Titans have hid upon you. Be glad, for we will provide a more merciful fate than the illusion you could find out there in this forsaken desert."

Choose an option

[X] - Summon the last reserves of your strength to break your bindings and crush the bandit cult (Advantage: Strength)

[X] - Tendons are but an illusion. Manuever your feet meat past the bolas and ignore the pain while they aren’t looking and escape. (Advantage: Dexterity)

[X] - Convince the synth that the most logical course of his programming is to become one with the Titans and commit group suicide (Advantage: Ego).

[X] - Summon the last reserves of your strength to break your bindings and crush the bandit cult (Advantage: Strength)

[X] - Convince the synth that the most logical course of his programming is to become one with the Titans and commit group suicide (Advantage: Ego).

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“ Why?,” you croak out in a light alto accent, each syllable crisp to preserve every miniscule drop of water you exhale out. “ Why do you abide by the will of the Titans?”

“ Because I was created by them,” The synth said matter of factly.

“ And they are gone. Gone. All that remains of them is the Wall and their bones littered around the Interior. You are nothing more than their trash, tossed out and forgo-”

A fist collides with your face and stars swim in your vision. Hot blood runs down your nose, dripping on your blue skin. You now have the full attention of the synth who is now busy sharpening his knife-like limbs, sparks flying off them with every twitch.

“ I was created by the whims of a grander civilization, Faa. Superior to that of even the Autarchs. The holiness of my code decrees that I am meant for great purpose, more than your desert walkers could ever hope to dream of.” The synth then motions to the rest of his followers. “ I have had enough of this mutant’s mad ramblings. Let us be free of their incessant chatter and explore their flesh for the bounty of information hidden within.”

“ Wait!,” you shout out, one of the followers stopping short of unchaining you. “ Isn’t there a more efficient means of finding out your purpose?”

“ Efficient?” The synth tilts its head in confusion. “ I’m afraid I don’t understand. Efficiency is in every diode of my being - “

“ Please.” You scoff, trying to play yourself off as cocksure, even as the lie you spin twists your tongue. “ Even a Faa like me knows that it is a common fact amongst synths that Titans reside in the data gales that stream from the lands of Golgotha to Gnomon.”

“ The data gales. That is the most irrational - “ The synth pauses as it looks down at its knife like hands in wonderment. “ Yes, yes, how else I could hear their whispers. Their code packets, I’ve been unconsciously receiving them in my circuits…..”

The synth pauses before regarding the rest of his followers. “ The quest is now clear. The Titans await us in the aether above, the remnants of their programming still broadcasting in the air. My followers, let us commune with their minds as one and bask in the glory of the first Thinkers!”

The sound of unsheathing blades fills the air as you watch each and every one of them stab themselves in the stomach. You watch as their water sloshes out of their open bellies onto the phtalo sands as they gurgle simultaneously in nirvana. Then, the camp is silent.

You have chosen Ego as your primary stat of choice.


With difficulty, you manage to grab a key from a cultist who conveniently killed himself next to you and free yourself of your bonds. The camp is sparsely maintained and is rudimentary compared to most Vaarnish outposts. You have seen cacklemaw dens that are better organized. You also discover that prying the laser rifles from their bodies is useless, as you discover that it is integrated within their very flesh.

There’s little else remaining except for a mound of chrome garbage and scrap situated next to the campfire. After hours of searching, you manage to find something useful in your rust-smeared fingers.

Choose an Exotica

[X] - An outline of a sickled knife shaped from shimmering candle-light. The iconography of Amun-Oh is stamped on the hilt; a scarab with eight legs and a snake’s tail is stamped on the hilt.

[X] - A luminous flower with cracked, shattered petals. It smells faintly of burnt root syrup.

[X] - A locked metallic box with numerous biometric padlocks. Sounds of loud squawking can be heard from the inside.