Introduction
Drudo the Unhaunted, also known formally as Zar Rudderlin, is a character I developed for a Blades in the Dark campaign that started in March 2020. Since BitD characters are meant to be outstanding and exceptional compared to commoners, Drudo has a rather unique background, and a legacy befitting of his alias. While there was a great deal of collaboration in forming the crew, I chose to go with the medical and engineering role, all while forming goals and projects to keep the character active in his personal interests during downtime activities. Aside from running missions and taking care of the ship and crew, Drudo’s plans were to invent the most impressive modifications to modern ships that anyone had ever seen, while making in-roads with the dock workers to form a dockside clinic that would double as the legitimate front for the crew’s local activities. The content below remains largely untouched since it was first completed.
Gameplay Recordings with Drudo
I streamed and recorded the team formation episode, three missions, and one downtime episode, which can be viewed on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQEU1gWGE7DlkYUp0cPGk1BVxa12lUouO
Drudo’s History, in His Own Words
Have you ever heard of the Legends of the Unhaunted by Drudo? It is an old book of fables about people who were unharmed by ghosts because they were virtuous, but that their virtune wasn’t enough to protect those around them. My favorite was the knight who led an army against a ghost pirate crew, and he eventually killed all the ghosts, but only because they possessed the army, who he had been assured were blessed to resist possession. Well, no matter if you aren’t familiar, it’ll make sense with more context.
The Way of the Rudderlins
Us Rudderlins are a well-known family of seafarers from the Dagger Isles. I was born at sea under an auspicious sky without clouds, without stars, without anything but the glare of a streaking comet, or so I’ve been told. I suspect the name of the ship, the Salazar, played into my own name ending up as Zar, especially since the comet was dubbed the “Salamander” due to the way it flew through the sky and fractured as if it had legs and claws. Salamander, Salazar, Zar is what I ended up being called. In our culture, the armored island salamanders are known to be fearless, as nothing they can touch can breach their thick scales before succumbing to the thick poison they excrete. Even ghosts keep their distance from them, according to experts in ghost hunting.
Zar of the Salamander, I was often called, both in respect and jest depending on the source. I earned a reputation for taking my time and shrugging off detractors, working to find the best solution, then executing on it to the amazement of all. Early on I came up with a conceptual, though small scale, device that could be added to the rudder of a ship, which uses trace Leviathan Blood in the water to keep a ship operating at a low emergency level if it runs out of power, as well as helping boost overall efficiency. My ingenuity also led me to helping with triage when it was needed, finding better ways to seal wounds, manage illnesses and infections, and stabilize broken body parts. Of course, as part of a boating culture, and spending a lot of time in the open waters, I learned how to keep my balance and operate the various roles of a ship, and how to hit the weak points in a cannon battle.
As my tinkering skills improved, I was recruited to help with making guns, cannons, ammo for both, and various explosives. Despite the size of my generation, the available hands trusted to make these items were still scarce, and I was the youngest of such crafters that my family ever had. As desperation had led to less quality control among available crafters, some less-focused weapon makers would lead to accidents, which gave me a chance to exercise my medical knowledge, to become more proficient in providing first aid and then mending the wounds over time.
A Trial of Drudo
I was treated just as my kin and the other children, spending some time learning practical skills, and some time taking care of important tasks and chores. My generation happened to be a larger one, so we had enough hands available to handle chores quickly, giving us more time to socialize and play. As we got into our teens, my friends and I would take our padded wooden swords from sword fighting practice, don our padded helmets, and practice in various places throughout the town. One adventure took us to a docked ship owned by my friend Vazlo Merwin’s uncle. Backed in a corner at the head of the ship, I made a spinning slash to hit all three of them at once, but Shlobo Merwin was last in line to be hit, and instead deflected my sword, causing me to sprawl towards the forward lantern. I raised my hands to lessen the impact, and the crossbar on the wooden sword rammed straight into the large glass panel closest to us.
The glass broke, and one of the shards had penetrated the braided bimetal filament, causing the lantern to flicker, its light wavering between the normal shade and a brilliant white glare. We had no idea that this was causing an ill-advised inverse effect that was attractive to ghosts. Lantern operators are selected and trained from among the hardiest folks, those who are unaffected by the malevolence of ghosts and other evils. Most don’t last long, but the ones who do become renown for it. I gathered with Vazlo, Shlobo, our friend Merelda Pural, a newer friend Termey Windsar, and my cousin Paven Rudderlin, as we gazed upon the embedded glass, awestruck by what we’d done. I felt what I thought was a cold breeze, but it felt as if it was from right beside me, as if someone waved a fan at me once. Termey thought to test the damage by poking the glass, and nobody reacted fast enough to stop him. This caused the core of the bimetal filament to shine brightly, bathing us in the unfiltered glow as cold winds rushed around us.
One by one, my friends went completely mad. One started punching the mast and screaming, one was crying in the fetal position, two were butting padded helmets like goats, and one pulled out a bottle with a smell I recognized immediately to be a powerful adhesive. I struck their arm with my sword to dislodge the bottle before they took a giant swig of it, knocking it to the ground, and causing them to be covered across their hair and clothes with a fast-bonding adhesive. Realizing it was a result of the damage we caused, I acted quickly to remove the glass shard, which burnt my left hand as I yanked it out. By this time, the dock workers were on their way, meanwhile I was trying to keep my now-insane friends from killing themselves.
All five of them were put in an institution where they’ve spent the rest of their lives up to this point. The gust of wind was no mistake, a break in the filament was all a bold ghost needed to strike upon the extinguished lantern, and a suggestion is all it took to make a friend poke it out of place. There was no way I could explain my way out of this, I was the only sane one after an event that drove my friends mad.
I was set to trial, to row out on a tethered boat, by myself, to a distance where the lanterns would not reach, sent with a conventional oil-burning lamp as my light source. If I return by my own cognition, I’m declared immune to possession. If I go mad, I am to be placed with my friends, and the generation loses yet another capable set of hands. There were mixed reactions as I rowed back, some questioning me to see if my sanity was intact, some scrying to see if I’d been possessed, some grinning or grimacing as wagers were settled, and poor Flara Merwin wept uncontrollably since she hoped I’d choose to drown myself for driving her children insane. But at the end of it all, I was allowed back on land, and dubbed “Drudo the Unhaunted” in reference to the series fables I mentioned earlier. After that, I was almost immediately set upon a ship that goes between the Dagger Isles and distant places, one where a lantern repair person can somewhat more safely learn the trade. While on the ship, I was to be observed around the clock for signs of possession or occult activity, and trained in lantern maintenance, repair, and eventually how to craft one from scratch, which further improved my ability to tinker.
The weight of driving my dearest beloved friends completely mad will never leave me, and I always keenly remember that I’m in this situation because of the tragedy which befell them, the situation which proved my blessing to be legitimate.
They Called Me a Blessing at Sea
My reputation for repairs and mending helped get crews I served on to stay safe and productive, even in the most daunting of situations. The Leyliner started off as an average cutter, but over the long voyages I managed to upgrade every last part of it, documenting the changes in a manual I was creating. Even the kitchen was improved, allowing me to learn how to make more advanced fare from our on-board cooks. Sadly when I was partway through the full-scale version of my experimental rudder device–which I had since decided to call the Drudo Rudder–a massive beaked beast tore a substantial hole through the hull before we could ward it off. While we were in the process of mending the large leak and pumping out the water, a privateering galleon known as the Singing Siren caught up to us, and immediately offered to help by attaching ropes to the wounded starboard, then boarding to take everything but the hull and mast. After being forced aboard our looter’s ship, the ropes were released, and the Leyliner was left to sink.
Apparently this benevolent theft bit was their shtick, as they put our goods in a warehouse, and offered for us to stay aboard for a few months to earn enough coin to repay them for storage and get a new ship constructed. If we refused, they’d sell our goods and give us a small portion, but that wouldn’t be an ideal solution. They honored their contracts though, and in the end we were able to get our goods back while getting one of the Rudderlin family shipyards in Doskvol to build a new ship based on the specifications from my upgrades manual. I withheld the incomplete Drudo Rudder system though, as anything but full implementation with my personal guidance could cause the ship to experience some rather woeful consequences.
I learned more about group hand-to-hand combat techniques while aboard the Singing Siren. Combat was rare, but I managed to stay aware and keep myself from taking any serious harm. While my early training in blades and bludgeons made anything I grabbed a formidable weapon, an old manual from outside the Shattered Isles made its way into my possession, and from it I learned how to fight defensively with one or two weapons, as well as a weapon and a small shield, even learning to apply the same techniques when unarmed. Throwing knives at a target was a favored passtime aboard the galleon, and I won a few games here and there, but wasn’t as skilled as some of the veteran knife throwers who had their own custom sets of blades. I found that my strength in battle was beside a more formidable fighter, fending off attacks from the flanks while they single out and take down individual targets, or helping create openings so they can hit with ease when we’ve got them outnumbered. I was taught a technique where I could attack an attacker’s weapon and arm with both blades at once, letting me stop their blade safely while gashing their wrist or breaking a bone.
As I had led much of the effort to rebuild after the loss of the Leyliner, and my repair and medical skills were well-known from all the various “rescue” missions done by the Singing Siren, I was put in charge of our new boat, the Friendly Lizard. Our symbol was reminiscent of the medical symbol on a midnight blue ground, cut by a fiery red stripe with a slight wavy pattern. This symbol was distributed on pamphlets and postings throughout Doskvol docks, to make sailors and captains aware that they could receive service at sea by hailing us with a white flag in one hand, and a polished saber or long blade in the other, as well as firing three pistol bullets into the ocean when we wave back. Odd as it was, we received exceptional compliance from desperate crews, and our information campaign paid off.
While it was great work, it left me too busy to pursue the Drudo Rudder, which I wanted to finish and implement as soon as possible. Eventually I managed to train a sawbones and a lantern repair expert to fill my position, and decided that my passive income as a founder of the ship should go back to the families of my childhood friends, as some small remittance for the harm which befell them. And a bit to cover my rent and expenses in my cousin’s home, of course. I retired from the Friendly Lizard, only boarding it every now and then to help maintain the special upgrades I had installed while it was constructed.
My new calling was to work at my cousin Zieb Rudderlin’s workshop, where the lower floor had water access, allowing me a safe place to test and develop the final concept for the Drudo Rudder. I was able to offer all the upgrades in my manual for varying sizes of ships, except for one. Unfortunately, developing the Drudo Rudder was far easier to attempt the first time, as the trade routes we had been sailing on the Leyliner and Friendly Lizard gave me access to all kinds of materials that were tougher to come across in the overly-paranoid city of Doskvol. This caused me to get back to work fixing and maintaining lanterns of various sizes at the docks and around town, as well as patching up injured folks after a scuffle in exchange for a small fee, or administering long-term care for a larger fee. Apparently healing the wounded on the streets raised the ire of a corpse thief, though I learned that this Eckerd individual has that opinion of all healers of humankind.
Specters in the Salty Mist
Unlike most lanterns I repaired, a ship known as the Phantom Ferry had a needlessly complex set of mechanisms and systems. There were pressure gauges, multi-piece flow restrictors, an air valve, and a couple other parts, and they all had bends or leaks. I guess the crew didn’t even realize this thing was tilted forward a few degrees, but it looked like it had been forcibly struck. Oddly enough, the glass seemed much heavier than a conventional electroplasmic lantern, even though a measurement revealed it was about as thick as ordinary tempered lantern glass. I told them it would take a day to fix it properly, or I could just patch it up in about an hour with what I had on hand. After I said that, they apparently took it as a cue to get going.
We were already further than I’d attempt to swim before I realized we were in motion, and before I could protest, the well-dressed gal on the ship dropped a large felt bag full of silver scales next to me. They told me they would be traveling for about six hours. I told them they were idiots for not letting me patch it up while it was turned off, and they laughed. I told them it can’t be patched in operation, and the fixes will all need to be reapplied constantly. One with an eyepatch responded that it is why I was selected for this operation, that nobody else in the area could even assess this, and I actually gave an estimate with full intent to repair it. Another felt bag dropped beside me. I shook my head and got to work. The damn thing couldn’t go more than half an hour without another repair, but I did manage to learn this lantern inside and out.
The destination was that of a black market bazaar of sorts, where I had the opportunity to buy a couple small crates full of materials I needed for my project. I was also given a special card and referred to an apothecary named Stazia, who I was told deals in import and export of the kinds of goods I need. When I met the crew back at the ship, they seemed oddly surprised that I had returned. When the well-dressed gal asked me if I had some coin to cover my return trip, I laughed and asked where to stash the crates. I reminded them that I never completed the patching job, and if they can spare an hour, I can get it running more efficiently than any lantern I’ve ever seen before.
Upon returning to where we set off from Doskvol, I told them where to find me, and not to leave without me. I’d do the full day of repair free of charge, aside from materials, and throw in a free assessment for upgrades. When they asked why, I told them I’ve chosen this ship for my grand project, and that I won’t take no for an answer. The one with the eyepatch shrugged and pointed out that the shipment of spirits onboard didn’t cause the lantern to sputter once over the whole six hours. The next day, I got to work on all the repairs to get the ship in good shape, and I fortunately had all the materials needed for the repairs among my spare parts.
My crates from the trip were delivered to Zieb’s workshop, where I plan to continue building the test unit, this time building the proportions of the Drudo Rudder to fit this new ship. It only hit me later, while I was filling in the day’s manual entry, that I had just helped assist in highly-lucrative spirit smuggling. I made a note that the lantern’s modifications may be related to keeping distilled spirits contained.
The Hiding Bag
I joined the crew of smugglers of spiritual, arcane, and weird things. Before we planned for the next job, I got a tip from Stazia that someone who isn’t readily affected by malevolent spirits is needed to create a certain kind of device for Lord Scurlock, one to aid in shielding the possessions of a smuggler from view. I accepted, and intended to make a few extra for the crew after I was finished. Stazia helped me with some of the more dangerous alchemical processes, though the fabrication was ultimately the toughest part.
The drug-addled inventor of the device didn’t draw lines in the schematic diagrams that made sense, though I was able to fix it to something that can actually exist in this universe. Beyond that, the final cost after fabrication was far more than what was originally provided. I met with Lord Scurlock’s contact and requested funding for the remainder before I completed the delivery, to which he scoffed and threatened to have me shot, stabbed, and hanged, then shot some more. I told him it was fine, and that I would get them. It gave the contact long enough pause for them to completely lose my trail, after which I took the completed units back to the crew hideout, the blueprints to my personal copy of the manual, and the discarded excess volatile materials to a furnace. Scurlock can go fuck himself, but I’ll make sure this won’t be traced back to Stazia or Zieb. I have a plan for smoothing this over later, anyway.
So I’m a smuggler now. But no matter what I do with the Phantom Ferrymen, my work with the Friendly Lizard will keep my name in high regard among the Rudderlins and the families of my childhood town.
Character Sheet
Crew: Phantom Ferrymen
Name: Zar Rudderlin
Alias: Drudo the Unhaunted
Look: Greasy shoulder-length wavy black hair, thick moustache, medium height (5’6″ish) with a naturally wide stance. Long heavy jacket with hood, tall boots, wide pouch-covered belt, smooth leather tunic and pants. A medical bag is worn visibly.
Heritage: Born at sea near The Dagger Isles
Background: Repairs and Triage at Sea (Trade)
Vice / Purveyor: Doing great work, good or otherwise, to honor the seafaring Rudderlin Family. Working on a master project at Zieb’s shop. (Obligation to Family)
Role: Leech
Special Ability: Physicker
Insight: Study 2, Tinker 2
Prowess: Finesse 1, Wreck 1
Resolve: Attune 1, Sway 1
Clever Friends: Stazia +1, Eckerd -1