A final ChristMASKS Love Letter, for Halfpenny the Transformed (a former Protege, who also has Doom Track). This one has the hardest miss I’ve ever written for a love letter or any custom move. Let’s see what happens!
Dear Halfpenny,
The time has come, you’ve decided, for auld acquaintance to be forgot.
You’ve learned what you can from Mr. Hunt, but this thing where he controls your body for fourteen minutes, forty seconds of each day is getting old. Time to kick him to the curb. What’s the worst that can happen? (Oh, you poor, naïve soul.)
The Forge has been working on a way to assist you with your Bad Penny problem. The procedure is relatively simple: Two circles of salt and flame are ignited, one around you and one around the card of Mr. Hunt’s that Sonia delivered to Dr. Nix. Once the wards are secure, Candelabra will also set the business card on fire. In theory (in theory!) this should weaken Mr. Hunt’s hold on you, as he’ll also be pulled to his card and (hopefully) caught in that ward. Then the Forgeling can attempt to exorcise his remaining grip and free you.
Only Nix and Candelabra are here. You worried about what dangers your teammates might be exposed to if they watched. You alone decided to eat the Bad Penny. You will face these consequences alone too. If this works, you can speak to your team freely without worrying about Hunt for the first time in a long time. If this doesn’t… well, it’s best they don’t have to see whatever happens to you, you think again, trying to silence the nagging thought that you’re making an even bigger mistake than before.
Nix looks you over. “Pray this works, Halfpenny. Your situation is untenable. If this fails…” she trails off, then walks briskly to an observation station. “Candelabra, update.”
“Ready to light.” The intense young girl steps away from the flickering barrier she’s erected around you. It doesn’t look like much, especially given your inhuman strength and bulk. But you’ve seen Candelabra work her magic before. You feel the telltale shiver of the Penny reacting to what’s going on. Is Hunt…afraid? impatient? Either way, you’ve had enough of him living rent free in your body. You give Candelabra a final thumbs up, then hunker down. You wanted to have a clever quip here, but your throat has gone dry.
Candelabra lights the circle. Your vision woozily shifts, and once more you’re in that boxing ring with Mr. Hunt glaring at you from the other corner…
(But, of course, there’s no way to know how your transformed body will react to all this magic. Perhaps you’ll find yourself even more monstrous by the time the ritual is done.)
Roll +your +1 forwards on the Bad Penny, that is, +3.
On a hit, Mr. Hunt’s presence within you is curbed. A part of him remains within your mind, but much of him is banished to…elsewhere. Clear a Doomsign.
On a 10+, you manage to ask Mr. Hunt a question as this goes down. The GM will give you an honest answer. Then choose one complication from below.
On a 7-9, choose two complications.
—The nature of your transmuting flesh shifts radically. You can do freakier things, like coat a whole arm in metal or form spiky protrusions, but you can no longer shift back into your mundane Felipe form.
—Your animal telepathy kicks into overdrive. Now you realize that you can reach out to mammals…but being around them when they’re excited can cause painful feedback that makes you risk losing control of your powers.
—Wherever you go, coins are attracted to you as if by magnetism. They propel themselves towards you and embed in your flesh.
On a miss, things go very badly. Mr. Hunt was wilier than you thought. Instead of him being exorcized, you are booted from your body and find your mind floating in the ether, unmoored. Mr. Hunt has full control over the body that, once, was yours.
What is it like being a free-floating spirit in the in-between? What does Halfpenny see or experience there that is most disturbing? Mark an appropriate condition. Then make your doom track thrice. Then tell me how you get in touch with Panic psychically to plead for help.
Happy New Year, Felipe Farthing. Hope you get the chance to see it.
XXOO,
Your Gamemaster
P.S. What, you expect more love letters? Not a chance. Go on, get out of here! There’ll be adventure enough on Saturday.