AOE: first card concept + first script! (Patreon)

Hey, hey, everyone! We’ve decided to toss the rules aside and give you a sneak peek at the first story tarot card from AOE right now. This is an unedited draft of the scenario (and its structure), so it has every chance of changing xD. But you can already get the general concept. Share your thoughts in the comments, we’ll read them!

-------------------------

Title: "The Curious Cat"

Setting: A grim vardo on the outskirts of the Vin-Dusko, near a well-kept cemetery.

Main Characters:

Player (in the context of the card - Zaek): A young rebel, a teenager around 17-19 years old. He wears dark gothic clothing, loves heavy rock, and considers himself a very cool guy. He ran away from his parents (taking their money), came to the tent to form a rock band, become a star, and flirt with girls while living life on the edge.

Realtor (antagonist, Sivo, also known as Orion): A charming middle-aged man, polite, speaks softly, and dresses tastefully. Zaek doesn’t know that the realtor is a serial killer who hunts loners like him.

Event Structure:

Introduction:

The player is introduced to the main character through a short internal monologue. Later, we learn that he ran away from home and is looking for a place where he can be alone and live by his own rules. He finds an ad for a vardo rental near the cemetery and thinks it's the perfect spot for his dark, rebellious lifestyle.

Meeting the Realtor:

The main character arrives at the vardo and meets the realtor. His name is Sivo, and he is friendly, almost too friendly, which both amuses and annoys Zaek. He tries to act cool, making sarcastic and dark comments about death and the cemetery. He sees Sivo as a typical normie, and the fact that Sivo vaguely reminds him of his father makes Zaek want to provoke him.

Excerpt from the Scenario:

(The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows on the weathered vardo. Zaek walked toward it as if auditioning for a role in a cool movie—swaggering, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, the studs on his belts jingling menacingly. The smirk on his face wasn’t just smug; it seemed to challenge the whole world.)

Zaek (internal monologue):

"Here it is. My kingdom of gloom. Dad is probably tearing his hair out and telling Mom I've completely lost it. Well, good! Let them worry. This place is perfect. Dead bodies as neighbors? Damn, that’s practically poetry!"

(Sivo was waiting by one of the trailers. The man looked like he had stepped out of a catalog: middle-aged, handsome in that boring, predictable way that appeals to housewives. His eyes were misty, as if he was deep in thought.)

Sivo:

"Mmm. Welcome. You must be Zaek. I’m Sivo. Shall we?"

Zaek (mockingly):

"Yeah, let’s get this over with, I’m tired from the road. Hope there aren’t any rats inside or, you know, corpses that missed their eviction notice, - he laughed at his own joke, appreciating the pun, - just kidding, this place almost screams 'home sweet home.'"

Sivo (smiling):

"Careful, there’s moss on the steps. It’s slippery."

(In the hallway, Zaek deliberately nudged Sivo with his shoulder, testing him like a dog assessing a new rival on its territory. Sivo barely flinched.)

Zaek (mockingly):

"Oops, didn’t see you there, Sivo. So what’s your story? How did a guy like you end up selling vardo by a cemetery? Sorry, but you look like someone from a super nice neighborhood. Bet you pissed someone off at work."

Sivo (still calm, too calm):

"Let’s just say I found my calling. Not everyone appreciates the silence and unusual places. I do."

Zaek (snorts):

"Silence, huh? Yeah, right, it’s not like the neighbors here are big on parties. Hard to make noise when you’re six feet under."

Sivo (with a gleam in his eye):

"Exactly. But you seem like someone who enjoys making noise. I see you’ve brought a guitar. You into music?"

Zaek (mockingly):

"Yeah. Rock’n’roll and no sappy ballads about picking cucumbers at the end of summer. I like Noorian music. I plan to settle down in your tent and set the place on fire. I’ll form a band… heck, we could even rehearse right in the cemetery."

Inside the Vardo:

(Everything was far from new—the air was musty, the furniture looked old even in the days of Pracia, and the creaky floors seemed to cry out in pain with every step Zaek took. The shelves were cluttered with personal belongings of the previous owner. But to Zaek, even the mustiest air smelled like freedom. He had escaped from boring school and his mother’s constant nagging about how he was wasting his youth and would be happy to live even in a doghouse (though Sivo didn’t need to know that).

Zaek quickly walked around the room, already feeling like the owner of this vardo, touching everything like a child in a candy store. He dumped his belongings by the couch on the floor.)

Zaek (grabbing a dog figurine from the shelf, then a dusty vase):

"Cute. Genuine vintage, - then he pretended to almost drop it, - Oops! Almost broke it."

Sivo (his smile unchanged):

"It’s a family heirloom. I’d appreciate it if you handled it with care. This vardo belongs to me, not the company, as you might have guessed from the ad."

Zaek (shrugging, already bored):

"I’m just not a big fan of family heirlooms. If they mean so much to you, you should probably take them out of here, - he plopped down on the couch, putting his feet on the coffee table, - So, how much for the first month? This vardo isn’t great, to be honest. It needs repairs, and it smells awful."

Sivo (sitting across from him, still overly polite):

"(states the price) No discounts. The rent is more than fair considering the location. You’ll find that the silence… helps you think. And such privacy is hard to find in the more crowded areas of the city. There’s also a lake nearby where you can fish and swim in the summer heat. A traveling market stops by every Saturday not far from here."

Zaek (glancing out the window):

"Market-shmarket. What if one of these stiffs decides to stretch their legs at midnight? Can I fine them for trespassing?"

Sivo:

"Don’t worry. The dead stay where they belong. It’s the living who sometimes forget where they’re supposed to be, though that can be fixed with experience."

(Meanwhile, Zaek noticed a small decorative box on the table. He grabbed it and turned it over in his hands. Stars were carved into the box in a strange pattern.)

Zaek:

"What’s this? Old love letters? Man, you’ve got more junk here than my dad’s antique shop."

Sivo (in a quiet and dangerous tone):

"I wouldn’t open it if I were you. Put it back where you found it. Some things are better left alone."

Zaek (still trying to open the box):

"Come on, no need to get worked up over nothing. If I’m renting this vardo, then everything in it is mine too", - but the lid wouldn’t budge, and after a moment, Zaek irritably tossed the box aside, losing interest, - "damn thing."

Sivo (his gaze lingered on Zaek, thoughtfully evaluating him):

"Excessive curiosity is dangerous. They say it’s killed many cats."

Zaek (mockingly):

"Good thing I’m not a cat, but a sahash. And my fists are made of steel."

(He stood up and walked to the window. The cemetery loomed just outside, a silent spectator without eyes, ears, or voice. It was almost dark. Dust motes swirled in the air. A half-dead fly buzzed on the windowsill.)

Sivo:

"Speaking of cats. If you look over there," - he suddenly stepped closer, almost brushing against Zaek’s elbow, pointing to a distant row of graves, - "you’ll find the local Kribatun. I made it myself, from my aunt’s cat, who used to own this trailer. My aunt was a rather boring woman, predictable, though she pretended to be something else. She collected cats. This one was named Madeira. A ginger cat, just two years old, so the Kribatun turned out not to be very serious."

Zaek reluctantly glanced over to where, sure enough, a ginger mummy was perched—clearly visible from here. A small, skinny figure wrapped in bells on a cord and a woman’s floral scarf.

Zaek (turning back):

"And why are you telling me this?"

Sivo:

(His smile finally faded)

"It just came to mind. You know, I usually offer guests a place where they can be themselves, a place where they feel safe. But safety is a lie, isn’t it?"

Zaek:

"I don’t get it…"

(Backing up slightly, trying to hide his unease)

"Listen, old man, I’m just here to rent a room. I’ll pay you whatever you’re asking, and then goodbye until next month. Let’s skip the old man lectures, okay?"

Sivo:

(Stopping just inches away from him, in a low, emotionless voice)

"You think everything is so simple. You come in, hand over some money, and just live your life. Ran away from mommy and daddy, taking their wallet, and now you think all doors are open to you. That everyone will listen to you. Right?"

Zaek:

(still trying to look tough)

"Yeah, uh… have you lost your mind or something…?"

(He tried to push Sivo back, but Sivo didn’t budge)

Sivo:

(His smile returned, but now it was different—predatory)

"That’s all well and good, but you should know. The Kribatun isn’t the only one who can’t leave me of their own free will."

(A heavy silence fell, the kind that makes your skin crawl. Zaek’s bravado cracked, fear crept in.)

Zaek:

(Backing away, trying to regain his composure)

"This isn’t funny anymore. You’re just messing with me. You think I’m some stupid kid who can be scared with spooky stories, right?"

(He looked around for an exit)

"Doesn’t matter, man. I’m out of here. I’ll find another place to crash."

(But when he tried to reach the door, Sivo was already there, blocking his way.)

(Camera focuses on Zaek’s face; he’s genuinely scared. Sivo loomed over him like a shadow that couldn’t be ignored.)

Zaek:

(Voice trembling)

"Get out of my way, old man. I’m serious. I want to leave!"

Sivo:

(Softly, almost soothingly)

"I’m afraid I’m the only one who makes decisions here."