In movies, television, and novels there are often story elements or plot points of which the main characters are not aware.  But, these plot points add depth, interest, description, and even irony to the story.  They are a necessary part of storytelling, in most cases.

Role-Playing Games tend to focus on the story immediately surrounding the main characters...the player characters.  But, for a truly dramatic and interesting story, sometimes you have to know about the movements, emotions, goals, and adventures of characters other than the main characters.

These stories do not directly affect or involve the main characters, but the events and characters depicted in these side-stories will play a role in the overall storyline.  They contain player-knowledge and not character-knowledge.

For Story Depth... 

"Javair and the White Queen"    

The large exotic ship dominated the bay of the fishing village of Wather.  The ship’s black wood appeared like it has been scorched black, rather than painted...and its three masts towered above its decks and cast long shadows across the water.  At the bow, there was an ornately carved figurehead of a woman.  Her features were fine, her limbs long and beautiful, and she was painted white.  Sailors milled about the deck, cleaning, coiling rope, and performing maintenance under the watchful gaze of their senior men.  The men were a hardened bunch, strong, and thick, and battle-scarred.  Some were missing an eye, or an ear...or even a leg, replaced with a sturdy oak peg of course.It was a calm evening, with a very light breeze.  The sky was a mixture of dark blues and gray wisps of clouds in the east, and the red, orange, and gold glow of a sunset along the ocean.  Sea birds circled overhead, and there was a light lapping of waves against the hull.
In the Captain’s quarters, off the back of the main deck, and under the aft deck, a man sat at a table full of maps and other papers.  He was handsome.  He appeared younger than he was, despite the gray beginning to show in his brown hair and the lines that had formed around his twinkling eyes.  His clothing was a mismatched from various cultures.  Pants in the riding style of the Grasslands of Shronth, with leather along the insides of the pants legs.  A shirt in the pirate style of the Crimson Coast, with a ¾ length coat that clearly hailed from the Feron-Jacobe Empire.  His boots were high Swaldune boots, worn by the dragon-riders of that mysterious island.
The man, clearly the Captain of the ship, drank a bit of wine from a crystal goblet, much too large to fashionable drink wine from, and closed his eyes.  One could imagine that the weight of the ages lay upon this leader of men.  With a little imagination, one could picture the amazing things he had seen and done in his life.  Things of myth and things.  One could surmise that this man had lived the lives of five men, all packed into one life.  Nay, ten men.  Such is the life of an adventurous man such as he.
The Captain reached for a box beneath the table, and pulled from it a harp.  It was carved from the rarest woods, and inlaid with precious metals and gems.  The strings appeared to be of woven from filaments of gold and the coarse hair of some unimaginable beast.  He laid one hand upon the strings, as though he felt something unheard there...something silent.  Something ready to be released.  And then he played.  The music of the harp was unlike any other harp that had ever been made.  The men working on deck stopped working, and swayed to the rhythm of the music, as though their minds were no longer their own.  The waters around the large black ship boiled with fish, surfacing as if to hear the tune better.  The very air around the Ship swirled with the tone and tenor of each note...and the world was different.  Better.  More orderly.
A tendril of fabric seemed to creep under the side-door of the cabin, and snake its way unseen toward the Captain.  Though it was simply woven fabric, like something one would use to wrap or bandage a wound, it had a life of its own.  This tendril slowed as it approached the Captain, and then with lightning speed encircled the captains strumming hand, and pulled it away from the harp, stopping the music.  The air around the ship became still, the fish at the surface fo the water submerged, and the men on deck seemed to wake from a spell. 
The Captain, in his cabin, pulled his hand from the grip of the strip of living fabric, as the side-door of his cabin opened and a stranger figure passed through the doorway.  The figure spoke.  “Captain, with all due respect, what have I said about playing that harp aboard the White Queen?  Its dangerous.”  The figure was tall and thin, and wore a wide belt bristling with weapons.  Everywhere that flesh should have been showing, the man was wrapped in the white bandages...or strips of fabric.  From head to toe he appeared wrapped in the cloth strips, and where loose ends stuck out, they writhed in the air, as if they were alive and reaching out for things around him.
The Captain turned slowly in his chair to face the wrapped figure. “And what have I told you about interrupting my playing?  That is dangerous as well, Wraps.”
The man called Wraps took a less scolding tone.  “Javair...this is your ship.  A gift from the Lost of Swaldune.  It is your command.  But, one wrong note from that harp...and...well, its not good.  You know that.”
Javair smiled.  “But, did you hear it?  It is meant to be had a song that needed to get out.”
Wraps sat down in a chair at the table full of charts and maps.  “Then leave the White Queen next time you want to play her.  Its not wise to play her here.”
Javair turned his attention back to the maps and papers.  “You are right.  Of course you are right.  Consider me sufficiently advised, First Mate.”  And Javair laughed.  He changed the topic.  “Any word from our informants about our friend...the Skull?” 
Wraps seemed to tense up with the topic change.  “No.  Not a thing.  Have you been able to determine anything from the maps and charts we captured?”
Javair shook his head.  “It tells me a lot about his travels before his disappearance.  But, that last trip...the one on which he disappeared.  Its not in these maps and charts.  There’s no record of it I have no idea where he was going...or where he ended up.”
Wraps poured himself a glass of wine in a large golden cup.  “We’ll find him.”
The corner of Javair’s mouth curled up at one corner.  “Or he’ll find us.” 
(To be continued...) 


Remember, these stories are to add depth to the storyline.  They represent player-knowledge, not character-knowledge.  This story was written to add depth to the Crimson Coast campain.


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