This is where our fight began…
How can you help?
This can be changed based on participation in the plot, but currently we’ll run this plot January through March.
Donate Herb and Produce cards that have not expired* to your local post-office if your chapter is participating in this plot. There’s a list of participating chapters below. If your chapter isn’t on that list but you still want to participate, send your cards through the good ol’ United States Postal Service to:
Dystopia Rising: Arkansas
308 Merganzer Dr.
Jacksonville, AR 72076
Georgia (40 Watt)
New Jersey (Haven)
*Expirations: We cannot accept anything that has actually gone PAST it’s expiration month, but we can accept herb/produce in it’s last 1-3 months.
crystal creek only
These missions are designed to allow local players to impact the end of slavery alongside the rest of the network, but at a local level and even though we don’t have events until later. Succeeding or failing at these missions WILL change the story we tell later in the year!
The skill uses do NOT have to come from a specific number of characters, but each use comes with a corresponding cost that you’re agreeing to have in effect when you check into our next event. We recommend ya’ll communicate before sending us an email!
How to participate: Email us (email@example.com) with the following info
Player Name & Player Number
Skill & Number of Levels/Uses expending
Mission 1: Safehouses
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The sound of pick axes and hammers still echoed through the clearing. The last of the basements had been dug out, and it seemed the job was nearly done. Diane put the last rivets into a wall, then straightened with a string of casual profanity. “Well, it looks like that’s it!” she said with a proud smile. “Uh… hey big guy, you can stop welding now.”
“Max,” Trench called out. “MAX! ..we’re done, you can stop now.”
Max lifted the welding visor, looking between Trench and the wall he’d been building. “So, can I keep this one?”
“Probably best to leave it with the Irons,” Panzer answered soberly. “They might need it for repairs. ...Where is the Fallow Hope?”
Bell gestured at the basement stairs, clearly frustrated with something. “Sir Daniel is still digging,” Koko said cheerfully. She and Kitt had gathered their finds from the dig, and were appraising them gleefully.
Trench rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why is he still digging??”
“No one told him to stop, I guess,” Kitt offered. “Poor kid…”
Bell threw her hands up, and went to fetch the Full Dead.
Mission 3: Propaganda
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Mi’tok, Jay, and the others sat on the caravan, heading back to Crystal Creek. Supernova adjusted his pitchfork, and said, “Do you think we got through to any of them?”
“Hard to say,” Jay said with a shrug. “I’ve got a good feeling about it, though. And you, sir,” she pointed to the other man in the corner, “Mr. Parks, have an amazing way with words. Even I was tearing up at that speech!”
Dee Gray Parks said nothing, just sat back and grinned.
Mission 5: Fix ‘Em Up
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To the honored citizens of Crystal Creek:
I am pleased to say that the free Irons, and the accompanying shipment of produce, made it safely to our town. In fact, we were rather impressed with your assistance; where we expected a caravan full of work-weary travelers, we instead received a crowd of bright-eyed survivors, ready and willing to join the front lines of the abolitionist movement! Most of the Irons that arrived are now employed as our very own Iron Guard, and we are happy to have them. Accompanied by this letter is a token of our thanks.
Daniel Cohen, Head Shepherd
Mission 7: Insider Trading
To the residents of Crystal Creek;
In light of recent changes in the abolitionist movement, it’s safe to say that major changes are about to occur. We of the Dillard family agree with your stance, and would like to meet with some of you, to discuss trade. I, and a few of my associates, will attend your next trade meeting in hopes of doing so. I know that your settlement has had less than civil interactions with Purebloods in the past, so I would like to formally request an agreement of safe passage for myself and my associates, for the duration of our visit.
I hope that this will be the start of a great relationship between us.
Mission 2: Stop the Cure
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The Hogg messengers stood at the treeline outside of Ferris Watchtower; they had encountered a problem.
“Where’s Treasure?” asked Mairenn, arms crossed threateningly.
“You’ll never find her,” the eldest Hogg chuckled. “Sun’s probably driven her mad, by now.”
“Wrong answer,” Leon replied, drawing his swords. Fyre Sol only growled in agreement.
No survivors were left.
Mission 4: Don’t Tell the Clintons
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The pureblood accountant looked over the shipment ledger again, adjusting his eyeglass. “They’re behind by four whole shipments now… Is something amiss at the Hogg farm?”
“There’s an illness going around the family,” said another pureblood. “They’re down a lot of workers from it.”
“Illness? Seems rather more than a common cold. Do you think they might have been poisoned?”
“None of our correspondence with them suggests foul play. Have you met the Hoggs? If I had to point to a root cause, I’d put ten gold on poor hygiene.”
The accountant grunted, and made a note in his ledger. “Fair point. Carry on.”
Mission 6: Find the Mole
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The Sand Witch didn't go to shore often, so Dana made good use of the rare opportunity. While the ship's crew all went out for a hot meal, Dana climbed into her dusty caravan, parked at the edge of town, and fired up the radio. “CQ, CQ, this is Post Cub Two. Over.” She waited, then tried the next frequency. “CQ, this is Post Cub Two. Anybody in? Over.”
There was a spike of static, then a cheerful voice answered. “Roger, Post Cub Two, this is QT Pie One. Over.”
“Howzit, QT. Is Theresa there?” Dana sat listening to the static while he went to fetch the Post Master, and imagined that it might be rain on the roof of the caravan. She almost nodded off to the soothing sound, when Theresa’s cool voice came through the radio. “Hey boss,” Dana said, “ship is on shore leave in Fool's Hope, so I thought I'd check in. Over.”
Theresa listed off news from home, and it seemed like things were finally looking up on the abolitionist front. “Shit,” Dana said, “that's really good news!” They exchanged a few more words, with the comfortable rhythm of old friends. “”Yeah,” Dana finished, “I'll check in with the head shepherd here, see if there's any mail to go out, then I'll start heading back home.” Dana felt glad that her Saltwise bodyguard wasn't looking, because she couldn't help grinning like an idiot. “Guess you’ll finally have your favorite hot head back in your pocket.”
“You’re my loudest,”Theresa corrected wryly. “Get home safe and you can be favorite for a little while.” Theresa never forgot the required phrases of their traditional sign-off, knowing they both considered it to be a piece of good luck and weren’t willing to forgo on the chance it might jynx them.
“Oh c'mon, I'm totally your favorite.” Dana signed off with a chuckle, then stepped out of the caravan. The guard, which Captain Keelhaul had insisted she take with her, stood from where they'd been sitting. “C'mon,” Dana said, “I'm dying for a hot meal.”