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Faith's Fall is a Sunless Skies Random Event.
What remains of the behemoth's carapace is scarred with sigils. Most are marred and broken, some still holding a sullen, resentful power.
Your locomotive is stopped on a broad, flat section of the shell. The few sigils nearby are too cracked to risk much harm.
Location: The High Wilderness
Frequency: Always (100%)
|Assist the Chiropterous Hoarder with its collection
The Chiropterous Hoarder seems genuinely overjoyed to be here. There is much to be done.
|Time to make a smokehouse
The Hoarder hurries a handful of your crew across that monstrous carcass, its instructions giving rhythm to their labour: they build in concert with its directives, sawing bronzewood, scaffolding the walls.
An unlucky number is ordered into the sigil-rotted cavities of the messenger-corpse. "The gland! Bubonic as a citrus fruit left to swell without light, golden-blue when lamp-lit. If you have eyes, you will not miss it," growls the Hoarder.
Bedraggled, and slick with sweat and mucus, they report that they found the gland the Chiropterous Hoarder sought. Unfortunately, it was nothing but a worm-eaten clot of ossified tissue that they brought home. "Almost worthless," rasps the Hoarder, softly.
Game note: Speak to the Chiropterous Hoarder back aboard your engine.
|Watch as the Chiropterous Hoarder completes its task
Endings are holy. Best be silent as this one unwraps.
||Into the dark
The Chiropterous Hoarder leads you into the smokehouse, a lightless place sainted with salt and smoke. "One day, the universe will be just like this again," it whispers, eager, a curve of shape and claw against the void. "Like us Masters, the universe is not eternal."
The black peels away as the Hoarder lights its lamps. It then places its prize from the Mausoleum into a vat of clear oils, and you both watch as the oils bleed from contact, as the room becomes mummified with smoke."Yes. It works now. It will work now, or the cosmos will regret failing me. And it will be better than love, don't you think? Better than anything. I will be eternal as my collection, its best specimen, its warden forever."
|Repair your locomotive
The creature's chitinous shell is as hard as bronzewood. If you can hack off a few sections, you could patch your engine.
Game note: You will repair some Hull.
Advanced query needs investigation Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.
Your crew are gone for several hours. Only a few return, dragging a small piece of chitin – enough to patch your hull, but less than they should have gathered.
Are the others dead? "Gone," they say. "Traitors."Discipline will have to wait. For now, you need them to make your engine's repairs.
|Success despite the squabbles
It is several hours' gruelling effort to remove a piece of chitin. Your crew destroy two saw blades and one friendship in the process. You are forced to organise them into shifts. It takes even longer, but at last you haul away a vast sheet of shell. Strong, broad and bereft of sigils.
|Partial success event (5%)|
|A violent quarrel
It is several hours gruelling effort to remove a piece of chitin. Your crew destroy two saw blades in the process, and can only work for twenty minutes before falling to bickering. The final shift returns subdued. They're a crewmember down. Still, they've recovered a vast sheet of shell: strong, broad and bereft of sigils.
|Delve deeper into the body
What secrets might you find in the depths of a messenger corpse?
You hand-pick a few of your crew. Their expressions are grim. Together, you make your way to a crevice in the carapace and secure a rope. You lower supplies down first; it would not do to be caught unprepared.
This is a stagnant, forsaken place. It would not be wise to linger.