Ships that sail east wake up in deserts of clockwork sand. Explorers following a bearing find the same village three times, each time more decayed. The only reliable direction is the one your gut gives you—and your gut is terrified.
But the city is guarded by the : ghosts of dead explorers, each one convinced they are the real north.
Engraved on the cylinder: "Point me toward what I have forgotten." broken compass rpg pdf
The compass is back to pointing at my heart.
The compass spun today. Actually spun. Like a top. Made the ship's boy laugh. Then it stopped. Pointed straight down into the hold. Ships that sail east wake up in deserts of clockwork sand
The party must stand in a circle, each holding a different "north" (a memory, a desire, a fear). The Echo Compasses will attack anyone who hesitates. The only way to win? Admit you are lost. CHAPTER 4: SAMPLE JOURNAL PAGE (Player Handout) Day 47 of the Ash-Transit.
We threw the mirrors overboard. But this morning, I looked at my reflection in my coffee. I was smiling. But the city is guarded by the :
What matters is this: