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| Perform a Translation | |
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| Category | Story Event |
| Type | Story |
| Data ID | 292666 |
Perform a Translation is a Sunless Skies Story Event.
Story description[]
You have a quiet few hours as your locomotive wends its way through the skies. Nothing is currently on fire. You could take the opportunity to perform some light translation. Whatever was scorched into the Throne of Hours must be significant. The last testament of a doomed sun? A panegyric to its temporal potency? A secret taken to its ashen grave?
Trigger conditions[]
Inscriptions on the Throne ≥ 1 ≤ 1,
In Combat ≤ 0,
Area: The Sky
Frequency: Always (100%)
Interactions[]
| Actions | Requirements | Effects | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
| Begin your translation
You will be the first to have studied the Throne. Or, if there were others, they are silenced or gone.
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Failed event |
Game note: Translating the Correspondence is always risky. These are the sigils of a Sun. There is grave danger in attempting to understand. |
| Death's Master
With pen, paper, and a hardback copy of Dolford's Compilation, you subject your transcription to a merciless interrogation. You use a magnifying glass at several points, until it melts entirely.
Much of the writing is a panegyric to the Judgement of Hours; a catalogue of its deeds and dominions; its provinces, holdfasts and vassals. Its triumphs over time's lesser potentates. The final burnt lines employ sigils used nowhere else on the Throne. A warning; a message: Time offers no surety against Death. Your writing desk erupts in vivid smoke – blue and gold and incandescent. Your crew pull you from the azure fire; but your desk is lost.
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| Successful event | |||
| Death's Master
With pen, paper, and a hardback copy of Dolford's Compilation, you subject your transcription to a merciless interrogation. You use a magnifying glass at several points, until it melts entirely.
Much of the writing is a panegyric to the Judgement of Hours; a catalogue of its deeds and dominions; its provinces, holdfasts and vassals. Its triumphs over time's lesser potentates. The final burnt lines employ sigils used nowhere else on the Throne. A warning; a message: Time offers no surety against Death.
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Links[]
Links In[]
The Inconvenient Aunt, Your Aunt
Links Out[]
Template:Navbox story events