Rules for Wayfinders, part 1 of whatever

Every time a Wayfinder ship comes across a new island and is part of the formation of a new colony, another fish is added to its sail: sailing aboard a ship with many fish is considered an immense honor. For every fish on your ship, you get that many bonus dice to every roll made aboard it.

The Red Woman

She exists. In the background of your favorite book, or the edge of audibility in the music you're listening to, behind the tree in that painting you're looking at; there she is. She's dressed all in red, red hair, red lips, red nails. Her face is misshapen, eyes all wrong, teeth all too long, nose wrongside up. She's too far away to see much detail beyond the wrongness.

She's closer, now. She's wearing a mask, all white with red accents. She's closer. Her arms are moving. Closer. She's taking off the mask. Closer.

If only you couldn't see her, somehow. It might make her stop.

Closer.

M.F. Brown

MotherFucker Brown, who prefers to go by M.F. in polite society, is a soft-spoken, gentle man in his mid forties. He is a well-known wheeler-dealer in the art world of the mid-west who, though prefering not to, calls upon unsavory types from time to time to insure his deals go down smoothly. He will never break the law, himself, without a very good reason.

M.F. Brown can be found in Calsoon City at any point in history, no matter how far back. It is the same M.F. Brown, not a family member or coincidence; for whatever reason M.F. just is.

In terms of manner and appearance, think a less sarcastic Doc Holiday as played by Val Kilmer: he is legitimately polite to everyone, even people who actively dislike him, and although he can defend himself he prefers to play the victim card whenever possible.

Slavering rat-things with fucking creepy-ass tongues

Picture a hairless rat, with slightly longer ears that sweep up and back like a frill and skin that's tight and scaly. It's a little big for your average rat, maybe the size of a teacup dog. It has three fingers on each paw, each double-jointed for grip-strength. It has an extendable, prehensile tongue, much like a chameleons, able to stretch out three times its body length, for catching prey. It'll eat anything it thinks it can grapple long enough to kill. When desperate it'll go for things it knows it can't kill, but it's damned sure gonna try anyway.

d4 bite, speed like an unencumbered person, 1hd, armor equivalent to an unarmored person. If you see one there's d6 more somewhere nearby. They're not herd or group animals, but if one takes down prey the rest will come running to get their bit.

12 strength for purposes of grappling, anything caught with the tongue is automatically critted if the next attack hits.

Beliefs of the Esoterics of Kree

An eye taken from one who sees you as a friend and placed within your own socket will see only the future. An eye taken from one who sees you as an enemy will see only the past.

Tebbolic the Melancholy

Teb to his friends, who you could count on one hand if you were missing three fingers, spends most of his time in an abandoned manor home in the formerly upscale Jenk Libboc Quarter, now one of many slums in the great Grey Maze. When he does deign to leave his home he can usually be found half-drunk, or worse, in whatever drinking establishment he can stumble into. He is an accomplished warlock, known as the Master of Four Faces in some dimensions, but he is chronically depressed after losing his husband to a great beast years ago and subsequently acquiring a mental block that will not allow him to distinguish individuals; if pressed he will admit that everyone he sees wears the face of his dead love.

Dust Plains, 11-04

A man-shaped creature in heavy clothes and a gas mask is hung from a light-post. It appears to be very dead. If you cut it down, it's still very dead. Underneath the gas mask is a face like a fly, but it's otherwise human. It's not carrying anything, anymore, but if you want the clothes and the gas-mask it's not using them anymore. The mask has a multi-purpose d6 filter.