I finally had the chance to play last night and we really had a blast. I’m sorry John, but I butchered your setting, but translating in french took an unexpected toll on me and I couldn’t came up with a brillant heist and poignant descriptions.
Our unamed cult, dedicated to the transcendant and cruel Resus was settled in a crematorium, posing as the hated spirit wardens underdog.
We had Charles Branson bored noble from skovland (I accidentally made it the beating heart of the empire), an excellent lurk, his fellow compatriot the whisper named ???. He was a desherited noble, banned by his family when they discovered his imaginary friend was very real.
The teamed up with Pete Hifoul a ruthless hound from modest extraction and mister Loudmouth, a leech from the dagger island.
They selected the most loyal and independent cultists to help them bring the transcendence to the unbelievers, and they happened to be the most ruthless wild and savage members of the sect.
When Baszo Baz asked them to steal from the red sashes, they hesitated a bit. The hound felt he was compelled to help those proletarian and they knew the red sashes were fervent adorateurs of Theus, the loving god. Since they would be hard to convert, they agreed to wage war on them and steal their treasury.
A quick survey of the documents given by their allies among the bluecoats informed them of the location of the tower where the vault was, and that there was a secret entrance in the sewer. They also learned of a spirit warded door at the entrance (complication).
Once there, the whisper lured a spirit out of the lock, that an electroplasm anointed hound wrestled down long enough for the whisper to hooked it in the tinkering tool the leech hold.
Everything went according to plan, but the free spirit attracted wandering hulls from further down the sewer (starting a “the hull arrive” clock) and the impossible horror of the spirit face burned the eyes of the hound.
Using his spirit tools on the spirit lock, the leech opened the door, get passed the red silk veil hanging from the ceiling and they were transported to another world.
The wall were dry and withe, adorned with more silk, brightly lit by torches and the air smelled of cinnamon and coriander (is it too cliche? It’s never too cliche!..).
They faced a stair, voices coming from upper floor. Baz had told them that the loot was at the bottom floor so they went down. They faced a long naked corridor, glimpsing at the end if it a large room sustained by regularly spaced pillards and patrolled by mens in arm. They hesitated on what to do next so long that someone came from the stairs, they froze and snapped back in action only when three swordsmens drew their rapier “yelling intruders!” right in front of them, attracting the gards from the pillard’s room.
The whispers called forth the tempest to create z true londonian fog, effectively blinding everyone. The lurk dived on one side of the corridor, striking blindly where he supposed would be his enemy, guided by the sound of their blades wiping empty air. He savagely turned the three of them into corpses. At the same time, the hound giving up on all caution emptied his pistols right in front of him, killing the other group. When all went still, the whisper dissipated his mist and spayed the bodies with electrplasm. They could hear, slow, lumping and grunting sound upstairs: the hull had started to pour in.
They sped through the vast room only to stumble on a reinforced door. The leech tried to crack the lock, but it busted open, spitting out bullies, wrecking the tool. They were led by a massive swordsman sporting out a possessed nasty rapier.
The hound drew his pistol once again, fired on the lot exploding two heads and a knee, but couldn’t avoid the lunge of the thug and took a nasty wound on the ribs.
The lurk caught his attention with a crafty feint and got disarmed for his trouble but that gave enough time to the leech to stab him dead, getting hit only by the butt end of the knife weighting the sashe of the dude.
They entered the vault and snatched the riches, various demonic trinkets and spices. The leech found alchemical products he rigged to detonate shortly thereafter and they scurried back to the stairs while calling the Adepts to cut them a way out though the hulls, taking as devil bargain to broadcast their call through the bound, letting everyone know the cult had been there.
The three parties (adept, hulls, group) met a the top of the stairs.
The whisper was knocked down with the bloody leg of one of his follower, snapping his shoulder. The lurk guided the wounded hound through the melee, carrying their gold. The leech failed to crush the zombies under the chandelier, his blade stuck in corpse. Finally, the whisper did it, killing most of the remaining adepts in the process and everybody flee, leaving the tower to spit fire and stone on the neighbouring brothel, the sky full of smoke and crows.
They got payed (and swayed Bzzo into giving them one bonus gold and all the religious trinkets), counted 7 heat but they couldn’t care less.
They licked their wound, recruited a doctor and the lurk got them an audience with Lord Scurlock their benefactor (but a friend of a friend of the cousin of the sister of his father in law got the world that he was into town).
So far, except that everyone had bad habits from EotE or DnD, no one complained about anything!