tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63647008577744056222024-03-19T05:18:37.481-07:00Bunions & BarnaclesA Commonplace Blog for D&D and RPG related writings and ramblingsStitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-57190139463533772892018-05-28T23:04:00.002-07:002018-05-28T23:21:29.485-07:00AD&D1e N2: The Forest OracleI have already forgotten what exactly led me to discovering N2: The Forest Oracle (C. Smith, 1984). Perhaps it was a post on G+. Perhaps in a moment of idle curiosity I googled "worst D&D module ever." Whatever it was, I soon found my way to <a href="https://merricb.com/2015/12/29/adventure-review-n2-the-forest-oracle/" target="_blank">a 2015 review</a> from the blog "Merric's Musings," which judging by its position on google has been read far more than the adventure itself. Intrigued, I quickly acquired it <a href="http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/17057/N2-The-Forest-Oracle-1e?it=1" target="_blank">at used-bin price</a> (isn't life in the 21st Century nice) and read through the 32-adventure myself.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8IiZcmft1WswhiqpuaW2G1NMBt5Fvbj7Jzt3Czi1MIIUOuc_q0FawJA8qB5FnILFKnHaoJlAN3xAxpA1je4tJFiXmoZ8RJjWnoBXl7CiGwGWZ_emwE6qbaCJTe0307dc8IjU9D3b0h9Su/s1600/N2ForestOracleCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8IiZcmft1WswhiqpuaW2G1NMBt5Fvbj7Jzt3Czi1MIIUOuc_q0FawJA8qB5FnILFKnHaoJlAN3xAxpA1je4tJFiXmoZ8RJjWnoBXl7CiGwGWZ_emwE6qbaCJTe0307dc8IjU9D3b0h9Su/s320/N2ForestOracleCover.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An unearthed gem!</td></tr>
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Note that I refer to it as an <i>adventure</i> and not a <i>module</i>. I have a very specific definition in mind when I talk about <i>modules</i>. Modules are location-based, "modular" as the name implies: scenarios which can be dropped into the midst of a larger campaign setting or world with a minimum of modification. They center around a specific, fixed place where adventure happens. B1: In Search of the Unknown, Maze of the Blue Medusa; these are modules. The Forest Oracle, second in the N-for-Novice series of "introductory" adventures published by TSR in the first half of the 80s, is most definitely <i>not</i> that. In fairness it does supply deliberately generic, somewhat colorless locations that could be slipped easily into just about any fairly recognizable world of Medievalesque Fantasy. The content, however, more resembles one of Paizo's adventure paths, where player-characters are led through an unfurling novelesque plot, setpiece-by-prefab setpiece.<br />
<br />
And boy, what a plot do we get here.<br />
<br />
As said, I no longer in fact recall what led me to discover N2. I downloaded it a while ago and spent my free time over the last few days savoring and digesting the contents. As you probably surmised already, it doesn't enjoy the highest reputation. The words "worst ever" have not infrequently been used and can be found on its product pages for Amazon, DrivethruRPG, and in any forum thread where it has ever been discussed. Does "The Forest Oracle" deserve this opprobrium? <br />
<br />
Honestly, people have probably been too nice to it. What we have here is the kind of generic "FantasyQuest" adventure you'd see in a TV show <i>about</i> people playing Dungeons & Dragons, such as Community or Dexter's Lab. A flavorless farming village is imperiled by a gypsy's curse: the PCs are asked to trek into the mysterious ancient woods immediately adjacent, and acquire the aid of a wise-but-shy Order of Druids. Orcs and goblins will be fought. Abandoned dwarf tunnels will be explored. At various points a nymph <i>and</i> a dryad will be rescued. For the adventure's climax, the PCs free a noble Pegasus from captivity. A hack TV writer with a condescending attitude couldn't cook up a more boiler-plate D&D adventure on their best day. No dragons actually show up (thankfully), but they are alluded to via rumor and local geography.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmNasm002veHBgHJxq3Zewm6YrJT_lHoOXfpMLkoDFBhIMxoSbuX0fbm-22Zjm0uhpqpJgElh90lGb_C_mpvpf8H1vBVLhnR08AoWO8auVYFpo5vSrZf_n4yw4aw-3vGTYvYklEl5CMWI/s1600/NymphMM3.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="633" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmNasm002veHBgHJxq3Zewm6YrJT_lHoOXfpMLkoDFBhIMxoSbuX0fbm-22Zjm0uhpqpJgElh90lGb_C_mpvpf8H1vBVLhnR08AoWO8auVYFpo5vSrZf_n4yw4aw-3vGTYvYklEl5CMWI/s320/NymphMM3.5.jpg" width="202" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*Cue embarrassing falsetto* "Hold, Crunk! Thou shalt go.... no farther!" </td></tr>
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It should be emphasized in fairness that the adventure is intended to guide a group of tender first-timers into the world of Fantasy Roleplaying Games, hence both the heavy-handed Structured Funtime and the no doubt intended Boilerplate Fantasy feel of its environs. Personally I feel newbies to our hobby deserve better---to see all the wild weirdness it can offer early and often---but nevermind. The product exists, and in fact I'm not here merely to critique it.<br />
<br />
Therefore one more thing before we move to the meat of this post. Not only is N2 intent upon being a thoroughly colorless exercise, but it doesn't even execute its modest aims competently. When I say the writing is incompetent, I mean basic things an editor should have caught: like inconsistently referring to the number of towers in a ruin, or the number of buildings in an encampment. Information is staggered between mind-numbing amounts of padding. Sentence structure is aggressively passive and frequently unclear. Read excerpts from any forum post about this thing and you'll see what I mean. The infamous bandits who are <i>not</i> singing and most definitely <i>not</i> joking as they march along the roadway are merely representative of the adventure's scatterbrained style.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqdOg_0jfvXzK7IxiZclqiUvdieH-YIEf6L3kmI9J1m4wAy3mD2L6KjlRTxCg0HYTVguSYOX1fboPbDX0YeEvrDKzGCzslsynVJLspw0c8c4mTdcrthoYaCftXyRh1i1mPWDQSnvG-c4KV/s1600/Wolfriders+by+Adrian+Smith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="1200" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqdOg_0jfvXzK7IxiZclqiUvdieH-YIEf6L3kmI9J1m4wAy3mD2L6KjlRTxCg0HYTVguSYOX1fboPbDX0YeEvrDKzGCzslsynVJLspw0c8c4mTdcrthoYaCftXyRh1i1mPWDQSnvG-c4KV/s320/Wolfriders+by+Adrian+Smith.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">by Adrian Smith - hope you really enjoy fighting these li'l guys! </td></tr>
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So, N2: an embarrassing footnote in the litany of products from TSR's Silver Age. Deservedly forgotten. Why bring it up again? <br />
<br />
I'm gonna adapt this fucker to Pathfinder and make it into a runnable pointcrawl.<br />
<br />
Yes, I am an idiot. It's my blog, shut up.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1. Setting </b>Thanks to its utterly flavorless nature, N2 can be easily slotted into just about any Medievalesque fantasy setting that A) has orcs and goblins ; B) has some kind of vaguely nature-priesty class. Seriously; at least the bar for entry on this fucker is about as low as you can go. <br />
<b></b><br />
<br />
I'm going to be adapting it more specifically to the broader world of my Eastwylde/Kingdom of Pellegrine setting, although such bits will be quite easy to sand off if you'd like to use my modified version for your own Pathfinder games (........who'm I kidding?)<br />
<br />
<b>1a - Name Game </b>First we'll need to modify some of the uh, decidedly embarrassing names which the adventure graces us with. I mean I appreciate anything that avoids awkward fantasy names that nobody will remember like <i>Zin-Shalas </i>or whatever, but seriously.... <i>The Greate Olde Woode? </i>With three extra e's? Come on, man.<br />
<br />
"The Downes." Farming village where the adventure begins. Described as occupying a valley surrounded by a ring of hills which..... wouldn't be downes, to my understanding. Downes <i>are</i> hills, specifically low and somewhat terraced chalk hills, if we're going to try and generalize from the actual specific downes that exist in real-world England. So we'll rename the hamlet as <i>Downesvale. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>"The Greate Olde Woode." Yeah.... we'll just say it's a very large stand of old-growth oak and elm known as <i>The Oldwood.</i> Only minimally logged over the centuries and still wild at its heart, thanks to the longstanding protection of a Druidic Order. <br />
<br />
"Quiet Lake." Not terrible but not quite enough specificity to satisfy Y.T. Let's rename it <i>Lake Quietus</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i> </i>"Wild River." (At least they didn't call it Wilde River?) In keeping with the Merrie Olde Englande theme I'll call it <i>The Floodwald. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>"Order of the Golden Bough" - The Druids allegedly at the center of this story who actually don't play much part in it. The Frazier reference is a little cute for me---I'll just call them <i>The Order of the Oaken Bough. </i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3RtXhNEtPPQNZ-uITtg-ahpS8yB78HS6rUN7RK3p_mT1bp4syhA_OA72xgNFZscqWqCO1-PgxxNuSSVTHIzo6HmapOSLiNCGVlY3OvSC6QRwX1NlrLVGSonbGEEibImAdC3efFWMhYAO/s1600/mysteryofthedruids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="216" data-original-width="460" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3RtXhNEtPPQNZ-uITtg-ahpS8yB78HS6rUN7RK3p_mT1bp4syhA_OA72xgNFZscqWqCO1-PgxxNuSSVTHIzo6HmapOSLiNCGVlY3OvSC6QRwX1NlrLVGSonbGEEibImAdC3efFWMhYAO/s320/mysteryofthedruids.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WORRHHH, DRUIDS! You knew this was coming.</td></tr>
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Names fine as-is: Old/New Wilderness Road, Old North Road, The Wildwood Inn (I don't <i>like</i> it but it's <i>acceptable</i>), Dragonteeth Mountains (ditto), Castle Karn. <br />
<br />
----<br />
That out of the way, Downesvale and the adjacent forest will fit nicely into the northern quadrant of Pellegrine's Red March---a long strip of mostly-flat, agricultural land that forms a web of backwater baronies and crumbling castles. Downesvale is a relatively new settlement, only about 60 years old, holding some 30 households with a total population of around 150. It is sheltered by a cradle of low hills called The Downes which fan across the west, while to the east sprawls the ancient forest known as Oldwood, out of the southern half of which erupts the high stony peaks known as The Dragonteeth Mountains (not true mountains, but such as the folk of relatively flat Pellegrine would know them).<br />
<br />
Downesvale is technically in the bailiwick of one Sheriff Conrad, who answers to Sir Terrance (known universally as Sir Terry), Lord of Pillowe. Sir Terry's smiling portrait hangs in Downesvale's solitary tavern, <i>The Ploughman</i>, but few locals could even name the gentleman in the frame and taxes have been infrequently levied to say the least. Oldwood and Downesvale lie on the very edge of the territory of Pillowe and are easily forgotten. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IW6k9TQVk-Tt-_PFY_bovDiGPibWX6Q3aYdn9QOt8Z0hSVBdkgY8scI4VqatONdzlcjJ3HRzqJtyPW8MXIjpXPq9UxNVaGKWPxG4Hpec-foGFKPcP51ll_ZndHjrZVU3CnsKx2DWvPNm/s1600/HotFuzzMrSkinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IW6k9TQVk-Tt-_PFY_bovDiGPibWX6Q3aYdn9QOt8Z0hSVBdkgY8scI4VqatONdzlcjJ3HRzqJtyPW8MXIjpXPq9UxNVaGKWPxG4Hpec-foGFKPcP51ll_ZndHjrZVU3CnsKx2DWvPNm/s320/HotFuzzMrSkinner.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You get exactly no points for guessing which Bond plays Sir Terry.</td></tr>
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<br />
Since time out of mind, the Order of the Oaken Bough have called The Oldwood their home. They kept to themselves, and were generous in using their power to keep the surrounding lands fruitful, thus down to the end of Feudal Times local authorities let them alone. In modern times, the Order has retreated deeper into the forest and are rarely seen. It's said that in the heart of the Order's sacred grove is a well which can foretell the future, tended by a sisterhood of oracles. Folk from every quarter of the forest environs make pilgrimage, particularly in Spring, to have their future foretold or seek the oracle's advice.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Pointcrawl Map</b> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEsmWG4Rlg7TST7b-abJM3f8Td9CdVe9ziU7U1qgd4icTtYv-2qLlI0-EPQZQUMhQavrxcI9NqlG_ETVd2grlvAysEGXoBg398qN0dN6KzBV1Yef8D6QpTuQZQuS1Fqe-SixfqimK7g7u/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEsmWG4Rlg7TST7b-abJM3f8Td9CdVe9ziU7U1qgd4icTtYv-2qLlI0-EPQZQUMhQavrxcI9NqlG_ETVd2grlvAysEGXoBg398qN0dN6KzBV1Yef8D6QpTuQZQuS1Fqe-SixfqimK7g7u/s320/001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BEHOLD! </td></tr>
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Feast your eyes on my definitely legible and <i>very</i> clear pointcrawl map.<br />
<br />
Distance not marked because it doesn't matter. The entire thing is like a three day walk across.<br />
<br />
I...... think I forgot to mark the last point in this pointcrawl. Erps. :-X<br />
<br />
01. Hamlet of Downsvale, Farmhouses <br />
----Fight: Brigands----<br />
02. Abandoned logging camp, brigands' lair<br />
03. Lake Quietus <br />
04. Wildwood Inn<br />
05. Dragonteeth Caves, West Entrance<br />
06. Dragonteeth Caves, East Entrance; Dryad's Tree <br />
----Fight: Giant sawtooth frogs----<br />
07. Floodwald ropeway<br />
08. Castle Karn <br />
09. Druids' Dun, House of the Oracle <br />
----Fight: Bugbear raiders---<br />
10. Crowfolk Camp<br />
----Fight: Lynx<br />
11. Peryton Nest <br />
12. Olot's Lair <br />
<br />
---<br />
It's late and I'm losing professionalism fast. More of this project later, perhaps.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i> </i>Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-51570625185244107502018-05-08T17:47:00.001-07:002018-05-08T17:50:20.289-07:00Pellegrine, A History?<b>Pellegrine</b><br />
<br />
Pellegrine is the northernmost civilized kingdom in Western Allegonde. Within the last 50 years it underwent a rapid process of <i>defeudalization</i>, with political and monetary power concentrating almost totally into the hands of the Crown and its allies. The kingdom was reorganized into four administrative divisions: the Red March, the White March, the Green March (each named for one of the colors on Pellegrine's tripartite banner) and the Crownlands.<br />
<br />
Pellegrine borders The White Mountains to its east and, south of The White Mountains, a grand stretch of forested or barren country called The Lost East. I guess The White Mountains are sort of akin to the Alps though on a much grander scale. The Lost East is a massive stretch of land which formerly belonged to the Mage Republics (also known as The Magearchies and the Mage Cities). Shortly after The Return of the Giants, when everyone else was trying to put their smashed civilizations back together, the Mage Republics had a war amongst themselves and blew up their entire territorium, showering the area in cancerous and mutative Magic Radiation.<br />
<br />
The Lost East has only been safe for habitation for about 100 years. For the first half of that time no government was particularly interested and resettlement proceeded at a very tepid pace. However on securing its power-base at home, the Crown of Pellegrine authorized the creation of new peerages from the reclaimed wilderness, resulting in the Shield Baronies. The Shield Baronies are something of an oddity in that rough frontier law rules the day, and in many ways they are throwbacks to high fuedal times; however they exist entirely under the auspices of the King of Pellegrine, and as yet have no economic independence.<br />
<br />
For a long time, Pellegrine didn't have a capital. The king traveled in a regular annual circuit, hosted by each of the Kingdom's great noble houses in turn. As international commerce and royal law grew in importance, a few major market-towns sprang up and these were declared Royal Cities, cities under royal protection with royal license to house or dispense this or that commodity and so-on. Mercantile guilds were an important royal ally in this transitional era, against recalcitrant nobles whose wealth and power was inveigled in land, military force and traditional market crops.<br />
<br />
Royal ascendancy wasn't all that dramatic. The King and his friends became a debtor to the nobles and largely took away their entrenched military force by buying it from them as a troublesome expense. Pellegrine today is a very demilitarized realm with wealthier towns taking the protection of roads and waterways upon themselves, and a small royal-funded coast guard watching the northern shore. The Nobles in their turn largely left ancestral desmenes behind and became courtiers, vying for favor, purchasing titles and currying influence in the King's now-fixed court.<br />
<br />
Odd as the term may be, it isn't inappropriate to call Pellegrine's capital an "artificial city." It lies more-or-less in the middle of the Crown Lands, a gigantic demesne ostensibly all within the king's portfolio but in reality parceled out to hundreds of benefactors, allies and corporations which exist by royal grant or charter.<br />
<br />
Within this geographical and political nerve-cluster was the confluence of two mighty rivers flowing out of the Northwest and the East, creating a large ring of floodland about a many-islanded swamp. This centerland had never been good for much but semi-annual grazing and a waterway to take goods elsewhere. Under the advisement of the easterner Quan-Xiu (Kwanshoo, "The God of Finance,") the king guided four noble houses and more than a dozen merchant guilds or societies (some no more than humble caravaners) to form The Chartered Corporation and Friends of the Royal Bank of Pellegrine (CC&FotRBP), roughly a century before such a thing would be plausible in Analogous Real-Life England.<br />
<br />
As directed by Kwanshoo, the parties became the sole custodians of the king's great reserves of bullion, and issued guarantees of resale to investors who deposited their gold and silver commodities into the common store. These promissory notes could be exchanged at will and were as good as the bullion they represented in the borders of Pellegrine. Speculation led to increased value which increased the notes' purchasing power (as long as the Bank carefully controlled the supply and fakes were quickly outed).<br />
<br />
IRL, the notes would become so overvalued so quickly they would soon be functionally useless. This was prevented thanks to the speedy creation of a totally artificial coinage to replace the notes, using techniques of the Arcane Alchemists of The Great East. The creation of the "copper," "silver," and "gold," coins was given in charge to a special society of Alchemists whose foundries would lie soleley in the new royal city. These lightweight coins, actually mainly composed of zinc, were issued in enormous stringed bunches. While cumbersome, the sheer number of worthless coins that could be quickly made managed to eat the inflation somewhat.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFp2h2pDPn_BjL9TQxnExWRKi4qgfIFo-cTgwaJEexk_44EYoTOCfBw7D9E71XxAYp3C-xN2sCBEv9Dw6hM_-u3BibLvH98LVAkROOW2uewrPoyTKwzu8SmmxNrSMMJlaJzQfsFzQOFjyH/s1600/chinese+strings+of+cash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="304" data-original-width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFp2h2pDPn_BjL9TQxnExWRKi4qgfIFo-cTgwaJEexk_44EYoTOCfBw7D9E71XxAYp3C-xN2sCBEv9Dw6hM_-u3BibLvH98LVAkROOW2uewrPoyTKwzu8SmmxNrSMMJlaJzQfsFzQOFjyH/s1600/chinese+strings+of+cash.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like this.</td></tr>
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The second factor that made the project a success was that the CC&FotRBP was created essentially to create a city from scratch in the Crown Lands' geographic center. This was a project requiring a great influx of men, tools and commodities, and essentially it gave the involved parties something to <i>do</i> with their money so that it didn't just pile up and become worthless. The swamp was drained the rivers diverted via enormous stone canals which incorporated four additional streams into the network. The new city was built on a wonderwork of hidden canals and sluices such that the air of its avenues and heights stayed dry and healthful. No water from the rivers, network of locks, or underground springs was anywhere allowed to stagnate but all contributed to the South-to-Eastwards flow of water from which the city was now font. The new town would be universally known as The Crown City and was fixed abode for the Kings of Pellegrine ever after.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfm6FW2u1f3LKn-ca-yaUHts-U1zVN4icLfc_MUIRk_8p6dhomTTcEwO5HOwHMpZQNnMt45ntT1KmBopO0jN3q7PscNHSV0EzuCBpv-rb-TXbpmZPnnl5tauG4EQmamZwGUGgmUrixuTk/s1600/800px-Nicosia_by_Giacomo_Franco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="800" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfm6FW2u1f3LKn-ca-yaUHts-U1zVN4icLfc_MUIRk_8p6dhomTTcEwO5HOwHMpZQNnMt45ntT1KmBopO0jN3q7PscNHSV0EzuCBpv-rb-TXbpmZPnnl5tauG4EQmamZwGUGgmUrixuTk/s320/800px-Nicosia_by_Giacomo_Franco.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like Venice and London had a baby.</td></tr>
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<br />Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-33037339496957190302018-05-08T12:57:00.000-07:002018-05-08T12:57:16.671-07:00Eerath - The Known WorldMy setting needed an actual name aside from "Eastwylde" which is really just one swathe of a certain region in the larger world. It has already also seen a short-lived <a href="http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/195785/Maze-of-the-Blue-Medusa-o-Deluxe-PDF" target="_blank">Maze of the Blue Medusa</a> campaign which for one session spilled into some kind of demiplane closely resembling the War-Gardens of <a href="http://save.vs.totalpartykill.ca/review/a-red-and-pleasant-land-ii/" target="_blank">A Red and Pleasant Land</a> in a moment of uninspired desperation from Y.T. The Blue Medusa campaign explicitly placed the Isle of Eliator in my world's southern hemisphere along with a Neo-Saurian Empire and mercantile nation of Catfolk. There have been a few references in the Eastwylde campaign to <a href="http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/144820/YoonSuin" target="_blank">Yoon-Suin</a> as a distant land of tea, drugs, and magic items that don't fit very well into Pathfinder's rubric of price-by-bonus. <br />
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[Other stuff I've used: I adapted several critters from <a href="http://dungeonofsigns.blogspot.com/2017/04/veins-of-earth-review.html" target="_blank">Veins of the Earth</a> namely the Alkalion and Trilobyte Knight to dwell in the great hollow tunnels and chasms that yawn beneath the lime and sandstone buttresses of the Eastwylde's bluffs, but my players rarely and furtively probe underground. Arnold K's <a href="http://goblinpunch.blogspot.com/2015/01/wizlocks.html" target="_blank">Wizlocks</a> were also carefully placed on the map but were bypassed unencountered]<br />
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Meanwhile I've been sort of half-assedly flirting with detailing further parts of the setting, always with an eye to keeping it <i>dungeon-centric. </i>The focus should be on dungeons (where 'dungeon' can be any kind of labrynthine large complex filled with peril and reward) and rumors of dungeons. The most ambitious of these putative campaigns would center on The Seclusium of Cyrelle the Chaotic, which was generated using Vince Baker's <a href="http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/117258/The-Seclusium-of-Orphone-of-the-Three-Visions" target="_blank">Wizard-Dungeon Generator Thing</a>. From a mismash of randomly generated qualities Cyrelle became one of the most powerful wizards and putative supervillains of my setting writ large. <br />
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So like, the world itself needs a name. I'm going with Eerath, totally ripped off from an old 90s Excalibur comic. <br />
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<b>Eerath</b> is a setting written for Pathfinder and takes most of its rules for granted. There are some differences, however: Clerics don't serve deities but rather an innumerable assortment of Saints, some widely worshiped and others intensely local. This lets them select any combination of Domains as long as the player can come up with a saint to justify it (Charm + War, for example, or Liberation + Law, etc etc). Firearms are so profuse that they are treated as Simple Weapons and downgraded in price to less than one-tenth the rulebooks' listings. Hypothetically (it hasn't come up yet) the setting uses the listed assortments of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fiendish_Codex_I:_Hordes_of_the_Abyss" target="_blank">Demon Princes</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fiendish_Codex_II:_Tyrants_of_the_Nine_Hells" target="_blank">Archdevils</a> from D&D3.5 as subdivine powers. A few racial options from D&D 3.5 might find a place in the setting including Eberron's <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_of_Eberron#Warforged" target="_blank">Warforged</a> (referred to simply as The Forged, one example has already appeared in the Eastwylde campaign as a minor NPC); also from 3.5's Races of Destiny: the <a href="http://archive.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/ex/20041203a&page=3" target="_blank">Shara-Kim</a> or 'civilized orcs' (you may have noticed by now I'm kind of a fan of musclemen with tusks: I want there to be as many varieties as possible), and a human subrace called <a href="http://dnd.arkalseif.info/races/races-of-destiny--81/illumian--139/index.html" target="_blank">Illumians</a> (with apologies to Joseph Manola who specifically <a href="http://udan-adan.blogspot.com/2017/11/localism-adventure-as-microclimate.html" target="_blank">called these guys out</a> as emblematic of annoying race bloat--I always liked them in particular, albeit both Illumians and Shara-Kim have had their origins simplified in my settings to emphasize what makes them interesting in the first place). And 3.5's more humanlike catfolk as a contrast to the beast-headed version from Pathfinder.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">+2 charisma, because <i>everybody</i> likes catgirls. No you don't get a choice you like catgirls.</td></tr>
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Celestial or angelic hierarchy I'm not so sure on. Angels certainly exist and probably ought to have some kind of opposite hierarchy opposed to the infernal; IRL whether or not a saint is of angelic or human origin isn't super-important but perhaps in my setting there would be 'Angel Cults,' rather more esoteric than the everyday saints of this and that, whose devotees would perhaps be better represented by the Summoner or Oracle classes. I say not so sure because normally I'd just use the hierarchy proposed in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Exalted_Deeds" target="_blank">Book of Exalted Deeds</a> and not think about it further.... [Sidebar: A lot of DMs make the mistake of overthinking/overdeveloping the high-level Exalted/Infernal hierarchies of their settings, coming up with political machinations in hell which never figure into the actual campaign in any way. I'm the opposite: I have so little concern over the 'cosmic level' of my setting I'm happy to just pull stuff from a book whole hog or let my players say it's whatever they want since it never in practice makes any difference.] ...but I found this website called <a href="https://www.angelarium.net/" target="_blank">https://www.angelarium.net/</a> which has beautiful fully realized illustrations of a bunch of esoteric angels I had never heard of ("Chazaquiel, Angel of Fog?" okay). I won't post 'em, just go see the pretty pictures yourself. If Angel Cults make an impact on this game at all, this amazing artwork and the imaginative forms of its angels needs to be used. <br />
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<b>Eerath: Fast Facts</b>--> Major area of concern is the western half of Allegonde, a subcontinent fairly analogous to Europe c. 1485 - 1550. <br />--> "Fixed Starting Point Area," the locus by which the rest of the world is measured, is the Kingdom of Pellegrine, loosely analogous to England in early Tudor times, except with some profound differences that ought to make its society totally unrecognizable like fiat currency and an artificially-constructed capital city. <br />--> Other key places: Ibexia, which long ago was the heartland of the setting's Roman Empire analogue. Dasan: enormous crumbling empire to the south which has fought eight "Dynastic Wars," and is the origin area of the Warforged and other "magitech" (or "magepunk" w/e) type stuff. Think Medieval Sicily with a strong Byzantine/Arabian influence but with crazy crystal technology ~100yrs in advance of the rest of the setting and you got it. Ibexia might be part of Dasan. The North: the generic Skyrimmy Fantasy Vikingland place I had to include because my players love that shit. Ugh. Don't expect these guys to matter ever. Arroede (pronounced "arrow-WEED.") Spain analogue. The major military empire of the period, controls some kind of Vicereality of Mexico-equivalent. <br />
--> Halfling Republic. Exists to the west of Pellegrine. Buccolic Shirelands surrounding a massive industrial-nightmare city that produces most of the world's clothing(?). <br />
--> I like Van names ("Van Natta," "Van Wormer," etc.) so there's probably a Netherlands (United Republics era?) analogue somewhere lateral to Pellegrine. Possible name: The Coastlands, the Coastal Principalities, the Coast Princes; <br />-->Fantasy Germany roughly split into three territories: The Empire of Night which is a Holy Roman Analogue ruled by a dynasty of vampires (this was a player's idea, I would never willingly use vampires other than as parody), The Order State who are constantly fighting the Vampires (so they're probably a lot more altruistic than the real Teutonic Knights), and lands of free humans which includes The River Princedoms (yes thanks Warhammer), the Hill Baronies. <br />-->Fantasy France analogue enormous and ideally much more diverse than Fantasy France Analogues tend to be. Celtic/Breton area built on legendary locations such as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ys" target="_blank">The Lost City of Ys</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Broc%C3%A9liande" target="_blank">The Enchanted Forest of Brocéliande</a> and so-on is of outsize importance and headquarters of the World's International Ruling Body over Wizardry. IRL Bretony was a beleaguered region constantly hammered by a state of low-grade warfare between its chieftains and the French but here it is probably the most civilized part of the setting with a few areas of High Magical Danger. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breton costumes like this only go back to 18c but easily adaptable & stylish if like me you love buttons</td></tr>
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-->Area of Provencal influence; possibly an area of heavy religious dissent? since my Cult of the Saints is modeled on the Early Church moreso than Medieval, possibly take some inspiration from Arianism, give them a more 'mystical' bent which emphasizes Divine Immanence, ignores/dismisses the army of saints and angels popular elsewhere.....? Anycase a broad land of spicy food, wandering minstrels and backwards-looking barons. <br />
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--->Further Abroad: East Asia Analogue made first contact with Allegonde about 100yrs ago, have tepidly been sending merchants and missionaries by sea hence wide-ranging existence of Monk class and monasteries, plus other classes such as Samurai and Wu Jen. Fiat currency of 'fake' coins adopted by Pellegrine while entrusting bullion to the Royal Bank (Chartered Companies must be a thing in the setting even though ~50yrs too early) was first suggested by an immigrant named Quan-Xiu, reproduced in western languages as Kwanshoo. He is now venerated by bankers and proto-capitalists as St. Kwanshoo the God of Finance. You can find busts of him in every counting-house and chancery court. <br />
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<br />Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-7058568143286101152018-05-06T16:56:00.002-07:002018-05-06T20:03:38.849-07:00Morcs (More Orcs) <b>1. Orcs, Grey or Green.</b> Grey Orcs live in colder climates up north, or mountainous highlands. Green in forests and verdant hills. Grey warriors wear mail and wield steel weapons, while green are primitive but skilled in poisons and witchery. These are middle-road fantasy orcs: tusks, muscles and bristly manes; can be hot in a beastman kinda way or butt-ugly pig people. Greys are nobly savage while greens are savagely noble. They can get along with humans alright but old enemies to dwarves and elves. More an alt. PC race than an enemy. <br />
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<b>2. Orcs, White. </b> Driven deep underground long ago. Have abandoned their old gods for Demon Princes, partic. Baphomet, Demogorgon, Kotschie, or Obox-Ob. Followers of rival princes fight each other as often as anyone else. Champions and chiefs always sport at least one demonic "gift" (significant mutation---six arms, ceratinous armor, acid tongue, etc). Metalworkers, masters of crafting Arcane Tattoos. <br />
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<b>3. Orcs, Pink.</b> Creations of the Arch-Wizardess Cyrell the Chaotic. Their genetic matrix is highly unstable: virtually all have at least a minor mutation (us. extra eyes or teeth ridges over limbs etc.), 50% have major mutation. Flesh rubbery and soft. Explode when slain, which gives them unwarranted confidence. Cyrelle grants her followers stylish black leather armor and fine weapons; feral examples will fight with what they can scavenge. <br />
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<b>4. Orcs, Ochre.</b> These Orcs' liverspotted yellow flesh is overgrown with pustules, many as big as a fist. When popped these spheres release acid (if damaged, d3 splash 5 ft). Some also vomit acid (d6, 5ft). Many orcs become so swollen with pustules they cannot wear armor and live in constant pain. Primitive, us. fight with greatclubs or stone axes. Those who become champions often wear Otyugh or Troll-hide amor, which resists acid spills better. They grow in gigantic, dangling batches of birthing cysts like grape bushels. Probably a wizard created them but none willing to take credit.<br />
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<b>5. Orcs, Violet</b>. Symbiotic relationship with large gilled shelf-fungus called Dream Polypore, brackets of which grow mainly off shoulders and back, staining skin purple. Fungus constantly emits trickles of smoke-like purple sporeclouds, which Violet Orcs can manipulate to show minor illusions or exhale hallucinogenic exhaust once per day. Have their own language based on thought-forms half-glimpsed in the haze. Makes hiding tough for them. Dreamy, peaceful, they see a heightened version of reality. If encountered may trade potions or other herbal magic items. Maybe a good PC option, but wearing armor problematic---only decent as Druid or Sorcerer. <br />
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<b>6. Orcs, Red.</b> Base 2HD. Vomit a shower of their own blood, which is as flammable as gasoline. Their skins are resistant to flame. Usually well-equipped, they favor scale mail, the voulge-glaive and two-handed falchions. All Red Orcs descend from a batch created by a wizard centuries ago and consider themselves to be a single nation: they will fight for anyone's pay, but not each other. Beneath their disciplined facade each is capable of entering a truly terrifying but always fatal rage, gaining +4 Str/+10' Spd and taking 1d4 dmg/rnd from their own boiling blood until, steaming, it squirts from eyes and nostrils and they collapse dead. <br />
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<b>7. Ogrillons.</b> Also known as "Orcres" thanks to my players. The product of an Orc and Ogre mating. Most are Med. size (< 8 ft) but a few (10%) reach Lg. size. A degree of ogrish natural armor, and powerful natural weapons including thick bonespurs protecting/reinforcing fists and tusks able to gore. Suffer from the ogres' Hunger Curse only slightly less. Most orc tribes regard them as abominations but a few use as shock troops. Sometimes hags breed them as they eat slightly less than Ogres so you can keep a few more around. Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-65811520125877707462018-04-20T18:44:00.000-07:002018-04-20T18:47:08.869-07:001d12 Hirelings 1. Esquival the Freshmaker - Obese baker with dreams of being a knight. Surprisingly tough, but gets winded easy, -4 Svs vs Exhaustion from travel. Treat as always carrying a Medium Load. Excellent income means he comes with a coat of scales (let out to acccomodate his bulk, only +3 armor bonus), longsword, sturdy wood shield and enough supplies for a week in the wilds. Pay as soldier. <br />
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2. Zelga the Begger - Former Guild-Thief. Maimed (foot sawed off) as punishment for prior thefts. Reduced to begging in the town square. Speed reduced to 20ft and -2 AC but Skill Focus in Perception/Disable Device. Starts out with no gear but cloak, crutch and beggar's bowl. She will accept the lowest level of pay despite her skills. <br />
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3. Pol - A draper's son, claims to be 17 but clearly younger. Ran away or disowned. Literate and excellent with figures. Useless at physical labor. Offers himself as a clerk (skilled pay) but will take job as linkboy. Has a dagger, pot of tar and a few torches. <br />
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4. The Dragon - Fire-swallower. This former circus performer is well-muscled but recalcitrant. Has an oroborous tattoo over chest and stomach. Lost his taste buds long ago. Does not start with gear, shirt or shoes. Can be hired as unskilled labor (in which case he won't fight) or as soldier (skilled brawler but will eventually demand equipment). <br />
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5. Jon the Bargeman - Tall and hiresut with knotty, powerful muscles. His broken bargepole makes for a quarterstaff. No one his age should be as strong as he is. Sharp-eyed, rarely speaks. Hire as labor or combatant--will do either without complaint. Mourning his wife. 15% chance every day he departs without a word. <br />
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6. Brian the Chicken-Infested Peasant - A former crofter, Brian suffers from a curse that causes chickens to spontaneously appear inside his clothing. This is definitely uncomfortable for him (the chickens claw, bite and often immediately shit) but a boon to any party that will adopt him. Brian produces 1d4 chickens every day unless he is naked or constantly observed (the chickens only appear when no one's looking). The fowl are violent-tempered and immediately try to escape. Brian dearly wants the money to pay for a Remove Curse and might do anything to get it. He has no equipment.<br />
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7. Llewyn of Blauders - Llewyn is a skilled rogue who was born into a minor religious sect. A total pacifist, he refuses to carry weapons or participate in combat even to save himself. Nonetheless Llewyn is an excellent acrobat, trap-disabler and has a talent for making himself scarce. Pay as an expert hireling with hazard pay. He has leather armor, thieves' tools, a bag of marbles and a collapsible 10-foot pole. <br />
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8. Arecilia Dantwidge - This pale, death-obsessed young woman is a noble scion and terrible poet looking for "experience." She wants to witness combat, poke dead bodies, and examine monsters up close. She will make a game effort at being a hireling but has no idea how to do basic things like start a fire, dig a pit, etc., tires easily. Can be a clerk, linkgirl or unskilled labor. Has a wardrobe worth 35 gp, purse of 100 gp and set of masterwork daggers. A gang of bounty hunters hired by her parents will arrive to collect her in 2d4 weeks. <br />
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9. Vaughn Meachum - An ex-miner and mason with many useful skills. Stonecunning as a dwarf, able to recognize metal veins, coal seams etc. Starts with a shovel, which he wields with deadly skill, and a manual of architecture and engineering. He is in fact a budding revolutionary and will attempt to secretly organize the party's hirelings against them. <br />
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10. Chauncey St. Claire and His Amazing Pigs - This swineherd (Com3, Skill Focus Handle Animal) has a staff, wallet and three puckish pigs he has drilled to near-perfection. The pigs are watchier than watchdogs, excellent at foraging and can fight viciously as a coordinated team. Give them 8 tricks, teamwork feats, alertness and trapsense +3. Chauncey will expect to be treated as a full party member and also a stream of constant flattery to his handsome and clever animals. He will not brook sending his pigs alone into danger. The animals actually know no loyalty and will will eat anyone left alone and vulnerable, including Chauncey. <br />
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11. Ebard the Touched - Once a teller of false fortunes and seller of fake relics, Ebard has since become known as a wild-eyed mountebank. A wallet of food, some torches and a ratty old robe are all he brings. He claims that dreams and visions have summoned him to the deep chambers of the earth, there to sublime his mortal existence before an immensity he calls The Caller in Dreams. He will perform any task so long as a party takes him into the deeps beneath the earth. Once below he manifests supernatural abilities--either give him the Oracle class or <i>Sanctuary</i> and <i>Know Direction</i> as (Sp)s. Ebard will continue to serve the party faithfully until an encounter with a Gelatinous Cube, Ochre Jelly or other ooze---whereon he will charge forth to be devoured by the thing, crying "as I dreamed! I go to join the world-mind! This mortality is over!" <br />
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12. Jack Ville - The son of poor but proud farriers, this well-muscled youth desires experience and to collect some interesting stories before settling down. No equipment and knows none but his father's trade, but will shoulder his burden however tasked. The joke with this guy is he is exactly what he appears to be. See how long it takes for your players destroy his innocence, for science.Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-64621747051675307642018-01-23T13:31:00.001-08:002018-01-23T13:31:26.565-08:00Two Character Record SheetsWas going through a giant pile of old gaming-related papers (looking for stuff on my unfinished Seclusium of Cyrelle adventure actually) yesterday and found these. I must have made them early last year: two characters for a half-imagined amalgam of OD&D/AD&D, 3.5 and 5e...?<br />
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Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-90351539205405165682018-01-21T12:23:00.000-08:002018-01-21T12:23:20.675-08:00The Canticle of the Formless ManyThis is for my mainstay campaign setting, which still doesn't really have a proper name. It's the same setting as my Eastwylde campaign, and the world in which I plonked down <i>The Maze of the Blue Medusa</i>. It's background stuff for the Stonehold dungeon I'm writing. <br /><br />*<br />
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Don't call them a cult; much less a faith. The ladies and gentlemen of the Canticle would be insulted at the term. What they do is no act of <i>faith</i>, but the ultimate act of reason.<br />
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To wit: the ultimate act of reason is accept its own impossibility. <br />
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The universe is chaos: growth and decay and the random movement of particles. Throughout the many worlds truth is change, and the idea of Eternity--with its golden rays and choirs of insipid angels--is the lie. Creation and destruction, transmutation: paint on the canvas, form growing from clay under the sculptor's fingertips. This is truth and beauty, invention and imagination. That is what the Canticle holds to. It is perhaps best thought of as a collective of artists. <br />
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The Canticle is a coterie of wizards from the western lands. Specifically a group of wizards born to land and wealth, specializing in the Transmutation school. There are perhaps only a dozen. Most of them are more than a century old, perhaps few would be easily recognized as human any longer. But though they have altered themselves, the members of the Canticle save their boldest and most striking work for others. <br />
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That work may not be <i>devotional</i> in the sense usually imparted to cultic activity, but there is a metaphysical resonance in it as surely as in the transcendent work of all serious artists. A somebody, at least, an <i>other</i>, grants inspiration and power to fuel his devoted as surely as the architect of the finest Temple can claim his inspiration to be heavensent. That other is The Formless Many, the Great Warper, an immense Toad of Limbo squatting above the fraying nerves of the cosmos. Perhaps not a god but certainly no <i>fiend</i> as the grossly limited manichean cosmos holds. And more than powerful enough to influence the Prime Material through his blessing of manifold mutation.<br />
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In his name the masters of the Canticle sculpt flesh and transform matter, juxtaposing and lampooning the dull taxonomy of creation. When they gather---only a few such salons occurring each century--it's a chance for each to show off in craft and imagination. Competition such as true artists live for. At their last gathering for example, exhibits included a woman meticulously half-transformed into a giant centipede; a living man with flesh of crystal glass; a mosaic in precious stones and dragonscale that eats, shits and sings; a girl who grew old in a day, gave birth to herself, and died. Such gatherings are inevitably ostentatious affairs. The privilege of birth combined with arcane power and flagrant defiance of the Arcane Order's strictures means each member of the Canticle lives like a prince, if only in their sealed and hidden Seclusiums. <br />
<br />
They are aesthetic hedonists. Corruption of the body is no problem---any decent wizard should be able to restart his liver or banish a venereal blemish, let alone sustain himself over decades of sumptuous living. To live below a certain level of luxury would be a disgrace to any of them, and certainly mean exclusion from the Canticle. [In my setting, most wizards are from upper middle class families at least, and almost all of the very powerful ones, heroes or villains, were born into wealth and power]. Most of these wizards were born in a time period roughly corresponding to the Late Middle Ages, and their outlook is that of any baron standing defiant of a distant throne: my demesne, my land, my people, my house, my money, and I'll do what I like with it all.<br />
<br />
The mightiest of the Canticle is the arch-rogue, Cyrelle the Chaotic. Her infamous Seclusium--towers of pink marble on a grand manor--still lies unconquered at the heart of the trackless forest of Broceliande, in defiance for centuries of the justice of the Arcane Order and the Kingdoms of the West. Prior to her recent disappearance Cyrelle was perhaps the most hated rogue wizard alive. Not a few Archmagi and other would-be champions were felled or twisted into mockeries of themselves by her over the centuries. It is said she is over 400 years old and has the appearance of a great lizard in kaleidoscoping colors; it is said she created her own tiny world to tend as goddess; it is said she gave birth to a demon so powerful it ate her; it is said a host of angels abducted her for judgement in the night; some say she has simply tired of the West and is living large in the Yellow City of Yoon-Suin, tasting the debaucheries of the Slug-Men.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>More Prosaically,</b><br />
<br />
So the Canticle of the Formless Many is sort of my version of a secret evil chaos cult. Except it's more like The Legion of Doom than a traditional army of nameless hooded acolytes. You have to be 1. at least a level 13 Wizard (that is, Archmage candidate material---a serious badass) and 2. enormously wealthy/landed aristocracy to even join (and ofc., Transmutation as a specialty school is a must. Most of them bar Abjuration and Evocation or Illusion). There are at most maybe a little over a dozen active living members, and each one would (or should) be a suitable Boss Badguy for a long term campaign in their own right.<br />
<br />
They aren't trying to do anything esoteric like change the world, end the world, summon a god or enact some prophecy or whatever. I always struggle on an engagement level with "high concept" villains. These guys are basically a club of libertine aristocrats with Arcane PhDs who like to fuck with and torture people for fun; they're generally not as deep as they think they are. You know that old horror story about English aristocrats who pay to have homeless people kidnapped, brought to the woods on their estate, and then hunt them with hounds? Yeah like a wizard version of that. <br />
<br />
However, the Great Warper/Formless Many/Great Grotesque Toad is a very real thing, and the Canticle's activities really do extend its randomizing and liquefying influence on the Prime Material. You could call it a Demigod I guess; Divine Rank 0. Not as powerful as the Archangels or the Demon Princes but much more fun. If the Formless and by extension the Canticle have an agenda, it's "make everybody roll on that d1000 mutations table from Realms of Chaos over and over because LOL." <br />
<br />
Cyrelle is the first (and so far only) Wizard/Seclusium Dungeon I created using Vince Baker's <a href="http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/117258/The-Seclusium-of-Orphone-of-the-Three-Visions" target="_blank">Seclusium of Orphone dungeon generator</a> thing. She's a 17th level wizardess which makes her probably one of the 10 most powerful humans on the European subcontinent and somewhere in the top 24 for Eurasia. I did a massive amount of writing for her Seclusium/the Forest of Broceliande; it was way too ambitious for a first go however so I'm starting with the Stonehold as a more modest dungeon of ~50 rooms or so.<br />
<br />
Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-646913073536754792018-01-20T21:51:00.000-08:002018-01-20T22:26:24.631-08:00Three NPC Adventuring PartiesShameful Editorial Admission: I have no idea if I would ever fully use the Van Hoeks as written below in my own campaign. I think my campaign <i>is</i> (or <i>was</i>, before we paused it for <i>Maze of the Blue Medusa</i>) approaching a point where I really might. However "haha you ran over a land mine now you are dead" is always a tricky thing to drop onto a player. On the other hand, my players were truly embracing the Combat as War philosophy; I think it not impossible that if I ever do drop the Van Hoeks on their heads it won't take them long to realize <i>exactly</i> what's happening... <br />
<br />
<b><u>1. The Lucky Bobs</u></b><br />
<br />
<b>Sir Robert Strong (LN Human Fighter [Free-Hand Fighter] 4) </b><br />
Big, bluff, blonde-bearded; lowlander scots accent. Wears a dashing long green-plaid surcoat and yellow-blue tabard with gold boar ensign, carries a poleaxe and heirloom knight's sword with <i>greater magic weapon +3</i> etched onto the steel (doesn't have the UMD to use it). Haunted by an ancestral ghost, which he wrongly believes is a guardian spirit. The sly poltergeist wants him to die so it can wreak havoc freely.<br />
<br />
Build Notes: Balances roles between tying up opponents while fighting one-handed or charging/tripping with poleaxe. Potions of <i>Cat's Grace</i>, Agile Breastplate important to build. <br />
<br />
<b>Maester Taft (TN Human Alchemist 4)</b><br />
Long-faced alchemist who makes a show of never laughing at Sir Bob's jokes. Wants to open an apothecary and retire quietly somewhere. Will stay faithful til the end. <br />
<br />
Build Notes: Infusion discovery allows him to share his extracts with party members (as potions). Doesn't like to use his bombs. After buffing allies he drinks a Dex mutagen and plonks away from a safe distance with crossbow. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Tul-Uq (TN Orc Fighter [Border Defender] 3)</b><br />
This orc of the "tamed" Northern Nation wears a heavy gold icon of Beatrix around his neck. Always an opportunity for an impromptu prayer; very eager to show his piety. Actually a nervous coward. Hates fairies and sees their workings everywhere.<br />
<br />
Build Notes: Heavy shield and bastard sword. As a Border Defender he's the party anchor, meant to lock down mobile/aggressive opponents. Too bad he'll always be the first to run.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Bryce Peppers, Bachelor Arcanis (CN Human Wizard 3)</b><br />
Cocky duelist wizard, always combing his coiffed hair, collar perpetually popped. Wears three big medallions won in school dueling competitions. Autonarrates in combat. Carries a double wheellock pistol and knows how to use it. Hates dirt.<br />
<br />
Build Notes: Key spells <i>Mage Armor, True Strike, Ear-Piercing Scream </i>and <i>Spray of Ice </i>(as <i>Burning Hands</i> but cold damage). Will have scrolls of <i>Mage Armor </i>and <i>True Strike</i> ready for his allies.<br />
<br />
<b>Accompanied By: </b>1d4+1 hirelings (porters, groom; Bryce has got light covered) and pack-goat. 1d3 mercenaries (guarding supplies/loot only). Well-treated and reasonably loyal though there is some racism towards the orc.<br />
<br />
<b></b> <b>What's the Deal?</b><br />
The Lucky Bobs are out for gold and glory but they're pretty much as nice and reasonable a band of tomb-raiders as you'll ever meet. They might be willing to divide areas of the dungeon, trade info or even combine wilderness camps for protection. If the PCs act sketchy, Tul-Uq may force a confrontation out of sheer nerves. The poltergeist will repeatedly try to spook the PCs into attacking and sabotage Sir Bob only at the most critical moment.<br />
<br />
<b></b> *<br />
<br />
<u><b>2. The Murakami Brothers</b></u><br />
<u><br />
</u><b>Hideo Murakami (LN Human Samurai [Sword Saint] 5)</b><br />
Handsome, expressionless and impatient. The elder Murakami is ruthless and bad-tempered but doesn't kill casually. Loves the oracle, Chizu.<br />
<br />
Build notes: Offense. Built to charge and power attack, spring back and do it again. <br />
<br />
<u></u> <b>Maseo Murakami (LN Human Samurai [Yojimbo] 4) </b><br />
The more heavily- armored younger sibling, still wears his green goblin faceplate into battle. Loves the oracle, Chizu.<br />
<br />
Build notes: Defense. Class ability lets him help his brother evade blows. Stays positioned to keep enemies off Hideo's flanks. <br />
<br />
<b>Chizu (TN Human Oracle 3)</b><br />
Ex-prostitute, taken along with the Murakami brothers. They have her gratitude but not her love. She's blind but can augur success via a bundle of sticks, and talks with birds. The brothers never do anything without consulting her, but usually they already know the answer they want to hear. <br />
<br />
<u></u> <b>Accompanied by: </b>Both Samurai have one personal servant apiece to act as porter, messenger and dogsbody. 1d4+2 well-trained local mercenaries (lvl 3 warriors, 2:1 spearmen:archers; one out of six will be a lvl 3 fighter). The mercenaries have been ordered to protect Chizu at all costs, but their loyalty to a triad of foreigners is low.<br />
<br />
<b>What's the Deal?</b> In the land of their birth, the brothers were simple warrior-retainers locked into an ironclad feudal code. In the "new" land, they are free to be explorers, entrepreneurs and plunder as they will. They always fight as a pair, watching each other's flanks and charging opponents as one. They both love the beautiful, blind augur named Chizu and know one day it will be the death of one of them. If encountered they'll be unfriendly and try to warn the PCs off their claim, but won't attack first--at least not with Chizu in harm's way. <br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<u><b>3. The Van Hoek Brothers</b></u><br />
<u><b></b></u><br />
It's pronounced "heck."<br />
<br />
<b>"Captain" Janek Van Hoek (Human Gunslinger 7)</b><br />
The elder and the brains. Ranks in Use Magic Device, crafting traps and mundane bombs (although he's no alchemist). Wields a snaphance rifle and two double-barreled wheellock pistols, all masterwork, all with <i>True Strike </i>inscribed on their plating. Carries four additional pistols besides. At point blank range, he always makes called shots for the head. <br />
<br />
<b>"Sir" Bodvyjn Van Hoek (Human Fighter [Armor Master] 5)</b><br />
He's a big guy and he doesn't talk much. Carries a hollow-hilted greatsword with <i>Oil of Greater Magic Weapon +2</i> on a trigger release, main potions are <i>Bear's Endurance </i>and <i>False Life, </i>wears full plate. He is largely there to be big and obvious and quasi-invulnerable while his brother shoots preferably from somewhere hidden. <br />
<br />
+ One Trap Guy, one Talky Guy, at least one (preferably two) Wilderness Guys. These will be 1st to 3rd level but may be equipped as one level higher. <br />
<br />
<b>Accompanied By:</b> As many men as they can hire. Draining the local hireling pool is one of their established tactics. They'll arrive with at least 18 armed mercenaries: twelve with spears and six with crossbow-blunderbuss combiweapons (made by Janek himself), one out of six being a third-level serjeant who will have a healing potion and two acid-bombs. These eighteen men think since Janek personally equipped and trained them he wouldn't just throw away their lives. They're wrong.<br />
<br />
<b>What's the Deal? </b><br />
The Van Hoeks aren't just murderhobos. They're <i>the</i> murderhobos. They're the guys who keep an ear to the grapevine to hear tell of someone somewhere making a big score, then swoop in and blast anyone between them and fast lucre.<br />
<br />
They're not civilized enough to be called a mafia, but you couldn't say they were just brutes either. Just enough low cunning and secondhand polish to pose as civilized gentlemen in short bursts. They're relentless, highly and particularly skilled. At once calculating, sometimes insanely bold, spiteful, will casually endure brutal privation, and move and fortify with the manic speed of army ants playing minecraft.<br />
<br />
In short, they're PCs.<br />
<br />
You're not really playing NPC Adventurers. You're playing a pair of rival PCs who treat your setting just like the coldest power gamer ever did. I don't know why I made them Dutch but I apologize to the good people of the Netherlands.<br />
<br />
Use your cunning, and every book about bush warfare, trench warfare, frontier living, caving, and real life criminal organizations you ever read. These guys are the Final Boss of mundane human enemies who use quasi-realistic weaponry and tactics and aren't wizards or dragons or whatever-the-shit. If your players manage to beat these guys you should never feel the need to have them fight a squad of goons with billhooks and blunderbusses in a muddy trench ever again.<br />
<br />
The Van Hoeks aren't meant to be a purely "random" encounter exactly. They shouldn't enter the campaign until the PCs have cleared or at least hauled a good amount of wealth out of at least one dungeon, dealt with at least 2-3 rival adventuring parties and have a good idea of what sort of tactics are effective in your campaign. When the Van Hoeks arrive they'll know the PCs by reputation and already be maneuvering to have the advantage when they're confronted.<br />
<br />
Think of it as an all-points attack on your PCs. You have, loosely, three fronts: The Town (social), the Wilderness (strategic), the Dungeon (tactical). The Van Hoeks will take time (no more than a few days) to lie low and study their adversaries, listen to scuttlebutt, catch sight of them via telescope, whatever. Figure out what the weakest link in your PCs' operation is and hit it. Allies, contacts or patrons in the town might be bribed, subverted or otherwise neutralized. Sabotage supplies, animals, hirelings. Anybody they can dig up who has beef with the PCs, any advantage they can deprive them of, any likely place they can begin setting up an ambush.<br />
<br />
Be an asshole, but play within the rules. I would give the Van Hoeks a <i>maximum</i> amount of disposable cash equal to the gear value of a lvl 5 + a lvl 7 Heroic NPC (roughly 10,000 gp)---but I wouldn't give them <i>more</i> than whatever the total amount of cash value the PCs extracted from their last dungeon was. That should still be in the ballpark of a couple thousand GP minimum--plenty for bombs, bullets, bags of sand, caltrops, alchemical gadgets, precious combat potions, and the wages of a small army of goons, hirelings and agents.<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
They won't take your loved ones hostage (they assume any worthy adversary must be as ruthless as themselves), they won't introduce themselves by stepping into the light dramatically and they will never willingly speak more than a sentence without intermediaries. It's unlikely the players will ever learn their names. These are not colorful archenemies to be placed like set dressing in your PCs' path. They are PC Killers.<br />
<br />
Three-quarters cover; elevation; difficult terrain; called shots; <i>True Strike</i>; <i>Darkness</i>; <i>Mirror Image</i>; acid flasks; alchemist's fire; barricades, berms, cave-ins and pit-falls; area-denial, kiting, sniping; it's a simple formula. Repeat until your players are beaten or limp away and leave the treasure behind. After all, the Van Hoeks are there for the money.<br />
<br />
If you somehow get to Close Quarters Combat with them (within 80' and a relatively unimpeded area of movement) you've pretty much already won. Janek might--with amped Init, a <i>True Strike </i>called shot and quickdraw--bag one or two of the squishier PCs with headshots before the Action Economy Death Conga brings him down. Bodvyjn will fight on forlornly and silently, a failed final sentinel. Asking for quarter would never occur to either of them. <br />
Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-53465464001687985842018-01-17T12:25:00.000-08:002018-01-17T12:25:00.969-08:00An Aside on RiddlesRiddles are something of a love-it-or-hate-it element in adventure/dungeon design. Probably the "hate" is somewhat more fervent here: people who dislike riddles <i>really</i> dislike them, and it's easy to understand their perspective. Placing a riddle in the party's path can be like dropping a giant roadblock right out of the sky in front of them. Especially if the rest of the adventure rides on their answer---whether the "riddle" is in the classic "Speak Friend and Enter" barred door, or figuring out the significance of a clue in a murder mystery; failing to solve it can mean the mission is abandoned, the dungeon exploration ends there, etc.<br />
<br />
In point of fact, this has been my attitude for most of my DMing career; having been on the receiving end of some real bad "solve the riddle or the adventure ends" scenarios, which in fact pretty much ended the adventure. Recently however as is obvious from my last post, I have come around to allowing that riddles <i>can</i> have a place in adventure/dungeon design.<br />
<br />
So let's look at the example riddle I offered and why I think it shouldn't get me defenestrated from DM School.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"I'm hot and sweet, known to be hysterical<br />They never hear me coming, though my spots are inimical<br />I'm a master of stealth and silent off the branch I fall<br />Which is just as well, because I can't hear at all<br />What am I?</i></div>
<br />
(The answers "Def Leppard" or "a deaf leopard" would be correct)<br />
<br />
~<br />First of all, riddles obviously don't have to come in the form of a lame couplet, Anglo-Saxon alliterative poetry or in any kind of poetic form at all. At the broadest level, "in the room ahead is a chasm crossed by a gently swaying rope-bridge. Directly under the bridge is a giant heap of dead bodies in armor and adventuring equipment, all in postures suggesting death by falling," is a riddle of sorts. But for our purpose,s let's assume we're just talking about the familiar guessing-game style riddle I wrote for my dungeon entrance.<br />
<br />
The first thing to do, as I suggested last post, is <i>know your audience</i>. I have two players who were teenagers in the 80s and another at least familiar enough with Butt-Rock to likely know the lyrics to "Pour Some Sugar on Me (In the Name of Love)." Just pulling some brain-teaser off a website is likely to leave your players annoyed if not stumped; tailoring the answer to them will likely make the riddle 1) more amusing and; 2) more solveable. And you want the riddle to be solveable. This is the even more important second thing to do: design the riddle to be beaten. Absolutely softball that shit. If experience has taught me anything it's that four guys at a dinner table late in the evening have the collective problem-solving ability of one very drunk guy early in the morning. <br />
<br />
More often than not if you ask a riddle thinking "no way they can't solve this," what you'll get is someone figuring the answer out in the first minute and then the collective intelligence of your players defeating itself as someone else makes a counterproposal, and the "obviousness" quickly disappears in a roundtable of suggestion and rebuttal. Hence, err on the side of caution. Make the riddle as "obvious" as you can. I mean, stop short of "which president had the given name George and the surname Washington?" but you want to make it easy hence A) aim for areas of knowledge where you know at least one player is strong; B) stack your clues. <br />
<br />
If you look at the example riddle I wrote you can even see how it might quickly become "not so obvious" after a round of collective thinking. "Falling off the branch" may suggest leaf, stem, moss--if they get themselves into thinking about <i>trees</i> rather than <i>butt-rock</i>, "hot and sweet" might suggest sap. Hell, they might come around to thinking about fantasy creatures and guess "Decapus" since that's a predator that lurks in trees or other heights in Pathfinder's bestiaries. If the players think too literally, "hot and sweet" stops being a helpful clue and becomes a serious obfuscation. <br />
<br />
This comes back to: remember, you <i>want</i> your players to solve the riddle. You <i>don't want</i> to "outsmart" them, especially not if the riddle is related to the adventure progressing. <br />
<br />
It's common advice to say: if you want to include riddles/puzzles in your dungeon or adventure, <i>don't</i> make solving them correctly necessary to any progress. You might, say, have a side treasure room or ancilliary wing of the dungeon locked behind a riddle---relegating it to "bonus content," not the core of the adventure. <br />
<br />
That is good advice indeed. If the game <i>grinds to a halt</i> because the party has been posed a question it can't answer, you have a problem. However, there are more ways to deal with this than relegating "Speak Friend and Enter," conundrums to the strictly ancillary. In my example, while (effective) character death is a possible outcome of guessing incorrectly, there is a possibility that even with no correct guesses some or even all of the party members emerge as Golden Ones---altered, but able to continue exploring the Stonehold. With this dungeon in particular, altered states and mutations are going to be a strong theme; in other adventures the penalty for guessing wrong might simply be a loss of convenience, an increased risk, losing time or some other resource.<br />
<br />
Puzzles and riddles have a longstanding place in not just adventure games but adventure stories in general---the opening of <i>Raiders of the Lost Ark </i>and the climax of <i>Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade </i>both being iconic examples. Very importantly, I've recently (while running <i>Maze of the Blue Medusa</i>) found that they create important shifts in the rhythm of an adventure/dungeoncrawl. Without 'brain teasers' ranging from explicit riddles to simply interpreting clues, dungeons can easily become repetitive grinds of procedurally poking each room and corridor with a 10ft pole and scouting for traps followed by yet another combat. <br /><i></i><br />
<br />Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-82782085722810846192018-01-16T12:23:00.002-08:002018-01-16T17:55:27.045-08:00Dungeon Entrance Given time, this loose collection of ideas will hopefully congeal into a good-sized dungeon module. For now working title is Stonehold of the Shaper. It's a classic "explore the wizard's lair" scenario: there was a powerful wizard, he was a very bad man, he has died in a spectacular and public fashion (or has he...) and his sanctum with all its treasures and strangeness lies open to plunder. <br />
<br />
~~<br />
<br />
The stonehold lies inside of a massive plateau of limestone, carved out of living rock over decades by a clan of contracted dwarf masons. These are probably the guys who gave your PCs the lair's coordinates: they were sworn to silence, but only so long as the Wizard lived. Getting inside the plateau is a matter of walking across the tableland, a landscape of scrub grass and stunted windblown oaks. Then the plateau's west cliff face must be scaled downwards some 40'. In the cliffside is a sunken, smooth hole six feet in diameter like a knothole in the sheer stone, virtually undetectable from above or below.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6QIuw_H7CYTRqtsO1wXpNYDtOMKfjQqR4mpeqXKE3yQg63RslOIVsPTGVIAAry-26ea2jr0HJI4vWpWlwNW_SEjxQ7MApOAhsCmTo_zJVIN1bcER1t_CyeR8Vl9_qaTiTsg28eVIFtxc/s1600/IMG_6894-X2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6QIuw_H7CYTRqtsO1wXpNYDtOMKfjQqR4mpeqXKE3yQg63RslOIVsPTGVIAAry-26ea2jr0HJI4vWpWlwNW_SEjxQ7MApOAhsCmTo_zJVIN1bcER1t_CyeR8Vl9_qaTiTsg28eVIFtxc/s320/IMG_6894-X2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">kind of like this but more barren up top</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Obviously rappelling down the cliff in heavy armor would be nigh-impossible, unless you run one of those campaigns that skips over such annoying details. Carrying out something as large as a chest of treasure is likewise going to present serious difficulties. The cliff towers a little more than 100' high over the grassland below. If your players want to hire some laborers to build scaffolding or a crane at the top of the cliff I would have it take little more than a month for the necessary materials to be moved out to this remote location, via riverboat partway then mule train to the plateau. It would then require a few weeks for building; during that time other treasure hunters might attack the worksite, but there won't be any activity coming in or out of the entrance.<br />
<br />
There is at least one secret entrance into the Stonehold directly from the tableland, although I haven't figured out where to place it yet. Another interesting feature of the plateau is a collection of stacks of massive granite blocks, stacked into short pyramids. The light-colored granite cubes are 5x5x5 feet and each weighs approximately one ton (it should probably be more but we'll assume a fairly low density granite...) There are dozens in all, and although the PCs can't know this yet they cluster directly above the area in the Stonehold called the Arena. The granite blocks themselves might be valuable to somebody but appraising and moving them would obviously be a serious undertaking. <br />
<br />
Once the PCs reach the hole in the cliff, they'll find that it leads into a smooth funnel of scraped limestone which slopes six feet down into a short drop at one end of a roughly cubical hollow in the plateau. This chamber is 40x40x40 feet. Against the wall opposite the entrance is a fourteen foot high band of polished flecked black granite, set into the limestone. In the center of this wall is what at first appears to be a giant, projecting sculpture of wetly shining gold. <br />
<br />
The smooth gold surface looks like a man's head, half-sunk into the granite, eyes shut and expressionless. It measures 10' high from bald crown to chin. The first time someone comes 30' or nearer its eyes open to show smooth gold orbs and the golden mouth moves as fluidly as flesh, or as if the gold were still hot from the smelter. It will ask the PCs a series of riddles, up to four, opening for one person at a time after each answer (right or wrong) and then admitting as many people as want in after the fourth. Rather than provide you with a series of riddles I would suggest a DM should think about his players and tailor the questions to them. For example for my players, I would ask something like: <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"I'm hot and sweet, known to be hysterical<br />They never hear me coming, though my spots are inimical<br />I'm a master of stealth and silent off the branch I fall<br />Which is just as well, because I can't hear at all<br />What am I?</i></div>
<br />
(The answers "Def Leppard" or "a deaf leopard" would be correct) <br />
<br />
The head doesn't introduce itself or anything, it just asks questions. It's not intelligent. Of course, the PCs could just attack the head---but although its made of soft gold it's heavy enough to blunt and damage any weapons continuously beating on it. If the PCs attack it with tools, given a few hours' work they might crumple and finally dislodge the giant head (its total weight is probably close to two tons). Of course they'll have made enough racket by then to be heard throughout the Stonehold.<br />
<br />
After a question is answered (right or wrong) the face stretches its mouth impossibly wide apart like The Wall album cover [EDIT: Actually I seem to be thinking of the film poster], the silky wet gold of its lips pulling away from teeth above and below to create a large entryway, through which can be seen the first chamber of the Stonehold proper. Once a person (it doesn't have to be the one who answered) steps into the mouth, it snaps shut like lightning, leaving the hapless entrant trapped against a giant tongue. The aperture to the Stonehold squeezes shut as the construct's gold mouth-juices wash over the entrant. <br />
<br />
If the answer to the riddle was correct, the person is shunted out through the sphincter in the back of the head, and lands on the floor of the Stonehold coated in gold saliva but otherwise unmolested. Their voice will be audible if they call back to people in the entry chamber, and vice versa.<br />
<br />
If two or more people try to step into the mouth simultaneously any time before the fourth riddle, all but one (pick randomly) will be spat out. <br />
<br />
If the answer was incorrect, the mouth also closes over the entrant. They are trapped and washed in sticky gold saliva as before, but the fluid isn't inert. They must make a Fortitude save (DC 15). A failure causes a complete physical transformation as the former PCs' mind is destroyed and body remade into a golden aberration, head replaced by a whipping tendril, limbs or more tentacles randomly erupting from a twisted humanoid form that looks made of beaten, slickly shining gold. In game terms it will either have HD as the PC's level or at minimum 3, plus a tentacle and two claw attacks (multi-attack assumed), and DR 5/bludgeoning from their metallic hide. Armor and other worn gear is destroyed; nonmetallic gear (bedroll, scroll-case, probably rations) is ruined from soaking, but metallic or preserved objects (a sealed jar of oil, a sextant etc.) may be recovered. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipoElNN4-ro6AgRghUc4TlYpWihD3CALiJvx0_6jx3Rk9hcIT9BhuDgcqTaPNK8HIiMMXwvDjWHnDOuRUH1EpZ7rPOKCZsoEg7ZRa9Wv_d9rkAkY0-MOMMVZm5SCvDqNwB_S_N2UM4Fiwh/s1600/Nyarlthotep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipoElNN4-ro6AgRghUc4TlYpWihD3CALiJvx0_6jx3Rk9hcIT9BhuDgcqTaPNK8HIiMMXwvDjWHnDOuRUH1EpZ7rPOKCZsoEg7ZRa9Wv_d9rkAkY0-MOMMVZm5SCvDqNwB_S_N2UM4Fiwh/s1600/Nyarlthotep.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So this, but like a 24-karat sculpture </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The aberration is then spat back out of the giant mouth and immediately attacks the party. It will fight until slain. Following its demise, the giant head simply asks another riddle and awaits an answer. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
If the Fortitude save is made, the entrant is ejected out the sphincter in the back of the head. They are however partially transformed into a new creature called a Golden One. Unlike a full mutation, this does not explode any worn equipment though some gear may be lost due to being soaked in vinegar-y gold saliva. <br />
<br />
As a Golden One the mutated person is changed into a hairless, shining gold version of themselves with jet black eyes. Any prior imperfections in their physique are erased, their new flesh of gold beautiful in contour and proportion. Their type changes to Living Construct (see the rules on 3.5's Warforged), and they will no longer suffer physical drawbacks from aging. If their Charisma was 12 or lower, they gain plus-two charisma; they also gain plus-two natural armor and a natural slam attack (d4 Med creature, d3 small).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jqGA6NeNMyyEFx4p1jp-QLLXT-BW9SbJrjH4akWIT8IfJVpWYVY-IIOVxpRCTBmvx7Bv3f22e3taWNkAtkFSoaH7oVgGhSYgz7413J-Ehk_6pt6Pa4aoPykskZi4kz5SCpBh9ShLGOMB/s1600/1447034382942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="773" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jqGA6NeNMyyEFx4p1jp-QLLXT-BW9SbJrjH4akWIT8IfJVpWYVY-IIOVxpRCTBmvx7Bv3f22e3taWNkAtkFSoaH7oVgGhSYgz7413J-Ehk_6pt6Pa4aoPykskZi4kz5SCpBh9ShLGOMB/s320/1447034382942.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like this, but naked-er and more uncomfortably sexy </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Transformation into a Golden One incurs a DC 17 Will save. On a failure, the transformed person's alignment changes to Chaotic or Neutral Evil, and they become a willing servant of The Formless Many. They will seek to spread chaos---wild magic, hedonism, social decay--by whatever means necessary. The mentally transformed Golden One gains the following supernatural abilities: <i>Detect Law </i>at will, <i>Charm Person </i>3x/day, <i>True Strike </i>1x/day. If the Golden One is at least third level they also gain <i>Glitterdust </i>1x/day, and at eighth level they gain <i>Chaos Hammer</i> 1x/day. Relevant casting stat is INT or CHA, whichever is higher. On a successful save, the new Golden One retains their ego/personality but does not gain any (Su)s. <br />
<br />
If a PC gets transformed into a Golden One who serves the Formless Many, take that player out of the room or pass them a note. Explain their new personality/allegiance to them. Ideally they should pretend to have been only physically transformed and remain with the party, biding their time to spread disorder or advance the cause of the Formless Many and its earthly cult. However some players may not like the idea of playing a "traitor," and if that's the case I suggest allowing them to treat their transformed PC as a casualty and roll up a new character, while the newborn Golden One retreats deeper into the Stonehold as a now openly-hostile NPC.<br />
<br />
The face will impassively and implacably ask its riddles three times, each time admitting only one person to step through and discover their fate following an answer. The fourth time, it will ask a final riddle and then admit as many people as want to step into the mouth. On a correct answer, they all get squished together and then shunted out through the sphincter, nothing hurt but their dignity.<br />
<br />
On an incorrect answer, multiple entrants must all make fortitude saves. Those who pass are shunted out the back as individual Golden Ones and make their Will Save as normal. Those who fail are transformed into a single combined Aberration and spat out the mouth. Begin with an Aberration of 3 HD minimum, then add at least 2 HD per person fused (or HD equal to level whichever is higher). At 5 HD the Aberration is Large, at 8 HD Huge and so on. For each person in the fusion it gains an additional tentacle or claw attack and +2 natural armor. This final monster's appearance is of multiple bodies, stretched and welded topsy-turvy together into a trunk of gold flesh crowned with branching tendrils and staggering on two human legs barely adequate to its weight. <br />
<br />
<i>What if on the fourth riddle, people give separate answers and then enter together?</i>The Golden Head is only programmed to accept one answer at a time, so in this situation randomly determine which answer it accepts either by rolling d3+ or via eenie-meanie-meiny-moe. <br />
<br />
<br />Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-54986478222324188342018-01-04T16:42:00.002-08:002018-01-04T16:49:42.222-08:00Blogs Are Where the Good Stuff Is <div style="text-align: center;">
EDIT: Also, need to say somewhere: I went to see <i>The Shape of Water </i>last night, and it was pretty alright. Probably won't watch it ever again but it's Guillermo del Toro doing his Fairy Tale + Melodrama thing again so you probably know if you like that kind of thing by now. 8/10, solid stuff, a good case for making Fishman an RCC in your campaign.</div>
<br />
Every other week I DM a game of Pathfinder, the more fancily-dressed close cousin of D&D Vers. 3.5. This Sunday will see the fifth session of my friends playing a run-through of <i>Maze of the Blue Medusa, </i>which interrupted our ongoing Wilderness Sandbox-cum-Power Politics campaign, dubbed The Eastwylde. I don't know how long we will be playing <i>Maze</i>--my original idea was to run it until the players discovered the Megadungeon's exitway, which as I had correctly guessed took three sessions. I then gave them the option of going back to Eastwylde, but having just endured a near-TPK they were "hot" to get back into the thick of the module and defeat it. So, the game remains <i>Medusa Maze </i>for the forseeable future.<br />
<br />
I wouldn't be running <i>Medusa Maze </i>at all if I hadn't spent the last two years ensconced in the world of OSR (or DIY if you prefer) Blogdom: a world which holds, in the words of my once-favorite webcomics author, "<a href="http://www.achewood.com/" target="_blank">a catacomb so deep there ain't no goodbyes</a>." A glance to the right at my list of linked blogs provides a sampler of the biggest and best among those I read but there's always more; more creativity popping off like fireworks in this community at a superior level of average quality and originality towards anything else. No one has ever written a line for Paizo who was fit to wash Arnold K's socks, seriously--or if they had such talent they had to suppress it for corporately-mandated Ikea prose describing the Warmed-Over Lovecraft/Burroughs Do Final Fantasy that is the World of Golarion. <br />
<br />
Which brings me colliding into the contradiction at the heart of this blog. Why am I breaking my back and consequently flopping like a fish to give the tone and pitch of all this rad, mad OSR stuff to my Pathfinder game when I could just, uh.... play AD&D or OD&D or any of the inspired descendants like ACKS and LotP? I've sounded out my friends on this and they are in fact down to play AD&D or even Three Brown Books if it's what I want; two years behind the screen has earned me the benefit of the doubt at least I guess.<br />
<br />
As I've covered elsewhere, I think 3.5 has <a href="http://allaboutdabunyans.blogspot.com/2017/01/35-is-da-fuckin-best.html" target="_blank"> certain virtues of its own</a> that aren't to be taken lightly. And as much as I'm not a fan of most of Pathfinder's "improvements," at its core it is still that game. There's also the practical bit, that it is basically <i>the</i> game I've played for 17 years. I <i>know</i> the environment/light rules, and the elevation/crouching/prone/one-half vs three-quarters cover rules, and the rules for grenadelike weapons and even what to do if you want your character to grab an opponent. That's not nothin'! A good crunchy combat system is maybe worth the tradeoff of each Player Character being a super-tough battleship of interlocking systems such that PC death becomes a rare calamity. <br />
<br />
But the fact remains all the interesting ideas are in that OSR/DIY orbit. I mean, have you ever visited Paizo's official forum? GitP? The<i> Gaming Den?</i> By and large dead zones of the imagination. Efficient counsel if you come to them with a specific rules question, but like, where are the <i>ideas?</i> Why doesn't 3.5 have a Zak S and False Patrick making some really off the wall shit? What is so deadening when the PCs can cast <i>light</i> at will and <i>magic missile</i> three times per day? Malnourished hacks have managed to write adventures for Superman for 80 years with a better success rate than you'd think so the answer is definitely not "power level."<br />
<br />
One thing I am not is a <i>causologist</i>. I just made that word up. What I mean is I don't think the fact that there aren't (or I haven't seen) any really inspired dungeons or settings or whatever coming out for 3.5/Pathfinder <i>right now</i> means there <i>must be</i> some failing inherent to that system; the simplest explanation may be no one's done it yet because no one's tried or the right tryer has yet to come along. Heck, <i>I</i> could be that tryer. I won't, I've got other things to do; in theory though, I could.<br />
<br />
For the last couple weeks my out-of-session "homework" as DM has simply been to translate Zak and Patrick's combined madness into the rote numbers of a Pathfinder-compatible dungeon: tweaking and making a few small changes (like in room 206 I added an earth floor with a multitude of mushrooms, and I heavily altered room 1. That's it). In lieu of doing a lot of creative heavy lifting I have given my fumbling graphite drawings a little more exercise. I've discovered actually filling in the background with blackness (as you'd see wandering in dark corridors by torchlight) will elevate a rude sketch quite a bit. I've largely backed away from a lot of the original module's lethality and acquiesced to Pathfinder's base assumption that <i>everything</i> can be resisted/evaded with a successful saving throw. Even if the danger's not as high the Maze is still a weird, wonderful place my players have enjoyed nosing around in. And they haven't even met any of the Torne Sisters yet, each of whom I want to introduce with a BIG (14x11") cool drawing.<br />
<br />
Since I began writing this post I have forgotten what the point I was coming to actually was. This happens A LOT and is a big reason I blog infrequently. That means I probably already made the point I wanted to so let's leave off here.Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-13924135635579889322017-06-03T12:35:00.001-07:002017-06-03T12:35:52.870-07:00More Things Underground<b>Stonechilds</b><br />
<br />
In singular they're called "a Stonechild," pronounced like you'd think but for some reason the plural form is "Stonechilds" as in "Rothschilds." <br />
<br />
They're slow, so the only way they can catch prey is through numbers and ambush tactics. They typically lurk wherever large boulders and rocks congregate, lurking in a loose ring until some victims wander into the middle. Some scholars (the few who care to even take up the subject) suspect they were brought over at some point from the Elemental Plane of Earth, while others argue they are a native form of mollusc.<br />
<br />
Disguised, a Stonechild looks like an ordinary stone, about the size of a large man's torso. This is actually their shell, though it looks and feels like rough granite shaped by aeons of wind and rain, often even sporting colonies of moss. The shape may be oblong and more forward-projecting or more balanced. From out of this shell when the Stonechild emerges protrude two stout, tortoise-like legs, which waddle furiously in splayed posture. Despite the effort both their speed and balance is poor. <br />
<br />
From near the front or sides of their shell protrude two grey pipelike arms ending in blunt, four-fingered hands, the forearm and wrist swollen-looking, the skin rough as sandpaper. The arms are long enough that their fingertips can just meet if they reach around the front of the shell, but the Stonechild's body configuration makes wielding a weapon in two hands impossible. They carry stone maces, which some speculate the Stonechilds form naturally inside their shell analogous to how clams form pearls. The head of the mace can take many forms: sometimes a simple orb, othertimes a little pagoda of layered flanges. It is quite heavy and quite effective at breaking bones. They wield it one-handed with the other arm held out for balance or to catch them if their flat feet stutter. <br />
<br />
Stonechilds are only about as high as a man's waist. Thus they usually swing for the legs, and full-on a blow from one of their clubs can disable a man's leg even through armor. They bring their targets down to their level with repeated savage blows. Then the Stonechild opens its mouth: a heretofore unseen crack in the stone pops up with a hiss of escaping steam and the squelch of mucus strings and a vomitous smell. Enormous teeth line the void with a thick tongue, the entire front section of the Stonechild's shell apparently devoted to its mouth. When their victim is well pulverized, preferably beaten into a kneeling position with head conveniently lowered, the lead Stonechild opens its maw and bites off the victim's head. Simple and effective. Brains really do seem to be the most prized part of any prey. They will work whatever chunk they tore off in their giant mouths with slow grinding and cracking, spitting out lumps of twisted metal armor and fragments of bone for days. They can go a long time between meals. They are just clever enough to leave any valuables from previous victims strewn around the scene of their next ambush.<br />
<br />
They can speak. Terran, which lends some credence to the notion that they are outsiders, and in some cases a few crude phrases in the common tongue. Sometimes as they encircle prey, in their droning buzzing voices they pretend to be robbers. They say they'll the victim pass if weapons and goods are surrendered. At least until their ring gets close enough to charge (10' for their stumpy little legs). Sometimes Stonechilds just open those huge, flat-toothed mouths of theirs and scream for no apparent reason. <br />
<br />
It's speculated they reproduce through eggs, which grow a suitably-sized rock shell over and around them as the fleshy creature inside actually finishes gestating and growing over centuries. As the abominations are thoroughly exterminated anytime a colony is found anywhere near civilization, much of their ecology is left to speculation. They are dumb and their senses limited enough you could play Jane Goodall with a circle of them if you really wanted, but it would be one boring adventure.<br />
<br />
<b>Under-Men</b><br />
<br />
Products of breeding experiments, they are a subrace of Man. Perhaps once human slaves of the Illithids, crossbred with a tribe of blind Morlocks. Perhaps their gracile, sculpted bodies were the product of some feverish Drow fleshcrafter-aesthete. Maybe it was some asshole wizard who's name is now deservedly lost to time. In any case, they got loose and bred true and now they are a viable if gross underground culture.<br />
<br />
Tall and wane with knotted muscles, they rarely stand to their full height but hunt and root through their caves and tunnels stooped, necks projecting vulturine from tensed shoulders. Their skin is an almost purplish grey, unkempt bristly hair soot-black. There may be some nods to decoration: headbands made from cave viper hide, hair stood up with animal fat. They have recessed noses, the nostrils almost slits, and heavy brows beneath which the eyes are intense black orbs, almost all pupil; the eyes barely work anymore. If you shone a torch in one's face he would see you as no more than a hazy ghost haloed in alien luminescence. Their mouths tend to project out from the face; any alien object will get a quick tongue-bathing to determine its nature.<br />
<br />
They stalk the corridors and cliffs under the earth by probing the stones with fingers and feet. Their grey skin, corded veins standing up beneath as from intense dehydration, is tremulous. Their shoulders quiver, their too-long and somehow too independent fingers dance over everything and feel everything in an unsightly way. They have replaced vision with vibration, their tactile senses increased a hundredfold. They'll feel your footsteps in the stone even though you think you're being totally silent. You can't disguise your weight, the gentle easing and pressing of mass as clear to them as if you were touching skin. Their feet are long, balanced to keep the heel off the ground, with toes nearly as articulated and long as fingers; it's through the pads of these delicate extremities they can feel every shift in the movement of their prey. Their feet are their eyes and they take precious care of them. Pain overwhelms their senses: they avoid melee combat at all costs. Stone axes weighted for throwing, the hafts bone or stems of the ironshroom, and sinew-drawn bows are their weapons. Some wear carefully hardened mud-armor, always decorated with a spiral symbol in drawn ash. The spiral represents the winding endless underground; it is both holy symbol and map of their world. They use it on their boundary-stones. A drawn symbol may seem bizarre for a sightless culture but they remember they themselves were once sighted Men, and they know you can see it. At the center of every Under-Man community is a pool or sump with fresh water. This is their lifesource, their shrine and their retreat. They rarely sleep (once every 48 hours, roughly) but when they do they need the muffling of the numbing cold water on their hides; they sleep floating on their back in the still water and enjoy a respite from the constant bombardment of their heightened touch. <br />
<br />
Most Under-Men are cannibals (in the sense of eating other human subspecies and sapient underground denizens). The few who aren't tend to live nearer to the surface, where they can trade with explorers or benign communities such as the Svirfneblin. These nearer tribes can make excellent guides for explorers from the surface, although your booted footfalls will be so annoyingly loud---the crunching, the thumping---that only an Under-Man gifted with patience can do the job. <br />
<br />
Most, however, consider noisesome intruders only good for eating. They will stalk you by your vibrations, well outside the range of lantern or torch. At an opportune moment--when your party has just triumphed over some great beast perhaps--their flint-headed arrows will sail into your light, black missiles announcing the Under-Mens' arrival. They approach shooting steadily, a bend of cavemen boxing in dangerous animals, and when close enough throw their stoneheaded axes to break your skulls. At last remove a few will have longspears to try and keep the enemy's "beaters" from closing in on the killers. If their crude weapons can't break an enemy's armor they will withdraw, clambering up rough walls to escape and return to their slow hunt, awaiting the next chance to strike. They can do this again, and again. They're endurance hunters on their own ground, and they can see every move you make echoed in glancing impacts off the vaulted walls. <br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
I got the name "Stonechild" off a monster name generator. There's really something to those monster name generators, you know? I'm not so good at coming up with things <i>ex nihilo</i> but having only a name provides a kind of prompt that gets the creative juices flowing. Under-Men weren't inspired by anything directly I THINK although <a href="http://falsemachine.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">False Machine </a> should definitely be mentioned. It's similar to something he wrote years ago that I can't find but I think I made the idea my own (more quotidian, less poetic, I think that's basically my stock in trade) I can put this up with a minimum of gall. <br />
<br />
Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-77729813978187394822017-06-02T16:55:00.000-07:002017-06-02T16:55:07.237-07:00Things Underground <b>Blueflames</b><br />
<br />
They wait in the dark. Weapons clenched between fingers and carpals, musty leather over steel over bones charred a perfect black. Waiting like soldiers on revue. No one knows how long they might choose to stay in a particular spot, when they move or why. If they sense living flesh before your light touches them, then the first thing you'll see is coronas of unnatural sky-blue lighting up in the darkness ahead. Their black skulls swivel and bob in a pulsing teardrop of blue fire, empty orbital ridges and grinning jaws intermittently submerged in light. The fire crackles, smells oddly clean like what's left when a coal burns out. Their feet barely make a sound except when they run, heelbones striking stone click click click. <br />
<br />
Most of them balance weapon and shield. Various styles of sword, battle-axes, maces, warpicks. One out of four or five might carry a two-handed sword or polearm. They coat the planks of their shields with pitch, then scrape a death's head off the black, a negative in oak or lindenwood of their grinning visages. Brigandine, mail, munitions plate, whatever their armor style it will be given a black coating. Strapped over the rags of rotted clothes, hanging loosely off their fleshless frames. <br />
<br />
They are warriors still. They might consider you worthy to join them, but they have standards. Weak opponents (and those who are clearly not of the martial profession) will have their remains discarded contemptuously into one of the many abysses or chutes of the underworld. Those who fought well will join them to fight again. Other than this behavior they display no more intelligence than the factured, bound spirit of any animated skeleton. <br />
<br />
They attack in bands of 4-6 (the leader of a band of six will wield a two-handed weapon and sport an extra HD). Apart from selecting the moment to ignite and strike they show no interest in tactical advantage, usually pairing off with opponents individually. Occasionally they will lower their heads and lash out with licking fire. Occasionally, pointlessly, they raise their weapons to their faces in a martial salute, as if in preprogrammed gesture.<br />
<br />
<b>Waxmen</b><br />
<br />
Stupid, stupid, stupid slimes. How could such things come to be? A protean predator, semisolid and translucent as waxpaper or sugar paste. It forms and spreads in dull cellular repetition upon cold stone floors in the dark. You can see its glitter at the edge of your torch like a puddle of powderized glass. It looks like any other mysterious stain underground, until you come within a yard: then the thin membrane stands up like a wave in timelapse photos and seizes your legs. It spreads up, and binds to your skin quick as gorilla glue, and eats your hide with an embrace of dissolving acid. You'll be too busy wriggling and shrieking to get it off yourself, but a determined friend might save you with a lot of scraping. <br />
<br />
Bad enough to get killed by a slime. The victim's indignity has just begun: now they are the mindless creature's conveyance. They've become a Waxman. <br />
<br />
Waxmen essentially look like slumped, rounded and lumpen people in profile. Their gluey, glazed-translucent skin hangs down in pseudopod-like danglers, like runny drops frozen just before dripping off the larger mass. But you'll probably notice the bones first. Skulls, ribs, humera, femurs, radii and tibia hang disjointed, suspended in slow-motion dissolution within the gelatinous body. Eyes extend from the skull on pale nerve tethers. Lungs slough apart and intestines sag within the chest. The skin and muscles are gone and most of the small bones eaten away but the rest is exposed like a person taken apart and diagrammed. The eyes and brain always go last, for some reason. <br />
<br />
Some people say that the person Waxmen once were lives on, but thankfully that isn't true. The bones simply give structure to the mature ooze, facilitate something like walking, allow it to reach out with gelatinous tendrils framed by disconnected arm-bones. Stabbing the organs inside does nothing. The "flesh" sweats an acid that smells like sulfur and burns at skin, but mostly they damage by blunt force, bludgeoning to death with their tendrils. If the loping, clumsy attacks actually manage to kill something the Waxman "vomits" a part of itself over the dead victim, whose decaying body provides a substrate for the next puddle-like iteration to slowly form over, like hoarfrost over blackening flesh and exposed bone until all signs of the victim pass away and there is only the spread of slime.<br />
<br />
<b>Phantommen</b><br />
<br />
A skeleton outlined in a bulky manlike profile of color, shifting green to orange in blinking pulses. It lights up the underground like a lantern wherever it goes, and wherever it goes its open jaws cry tonguelessly. The shriek of a maniac, remorselessly annoying, monotonous in its panic. It intermittently pauses, as if the thing had to breath (it doesn't). <br />
<br />
Phantommen are almost ethereal, but not quite. What they are is ghosts sheathed in ectoplasm, giving them their blobby, cartoonish outlines. Wherever they pass they leave a briny-smelling mildew or wetness (even if you couldn't hear their screaming from far off you could easily track their wet footsteps). They always run, and they don't let walls stop them. The first time you'll see one it will emerge shrieking at a full run right out of a solid stone wall, leaving a man-sized coating of slime. Then run right through you with a cold bracing shock, leaving you well-covered in clammy mucus. They will pass back through you and back again two or three times more, because Phantommen are <i>assholes</i>. Then they will actually start trying to bludgeon you to death (do their victims rise as more Phantommen? No one has the resolve to study these annoying specters and find out). <br />
<br />
Fortunately, other than leaving you wet, shivering and smelling like a log rotting in an estuary, the Phantomman has no way to attack in its ethereal state. It must briefly become solid in order to strike, and it does so clumsily, giving a skilled warrior a window to hew it down (hewing a Phantomman of course, sprays more gak-like ectoplasm everywhere). <br />
<br />
<b>Banehands</b><br />
<br />
Imagine a Hobgoblin (well, the Paizo version---so, hairless, vaguely reptilian with catlike clefted mouths and bat-ears), with flesh of a deep blue, scaled and cracked like old pavement over the shoulders, forearms and other swells of muscle. Now squash that image so the creature is squat, slightly taller than a Dwarf with a barrel profile and apish, swollen arms. Give it a bow-legged stance and a frown to match its scaly jowls and deep red eyes. Now dress it in stuff you'd find at a 15th-century Goodwill with stained leather armor and a weapon on its belt. <br />
<br />
Believe it or not, this thing is yet another type of Fairy. <br />
<br />
Banehands are roustabouts and braggarts as many of the Fey Kindreds are wont to be. They will typically be found in remote places, ruins and heights, particularly abandoned fortresses or towers from which they can play at Lord of the Manor. They congregate in large gangs of about thirty and typically operate much like any other clan of brigands. Like all fairies, Banehands horde human coin and other wealth which they have no use for. but prize weapons, armor and liquor of any sort as the finest spoils. Unlike the other things on this list they can be bargained with and probably won't attack without favorable odds (blustering is always fine however). <br />
<br />
They favor small, round shields and wide falchion swords or battleaxes and on average will have girded on a shirt of mail. They lack the severe allergy to metal that plagues other fairy-kindreds although by the same token they are no more resistant to injury than mortal man.<br />
<br />
The Banehands' gimmick is that they can bestow a minor curse on their enemies (<i>Doom</i>, as a spell-like ability), performed with a gesture of their weapon-hand which glows with a crystal blue light as they enact the curse (hence the name!) They can use this ability once per battle. Their leaders usually have four HD and have <i>Fumble</i> (-20 to target's next d20 roll) as an additional once-per fight ability. Although the typical Banehand's curse isn't that potent, they do aggregate: so a single Banehand can inflict a -2 penalty on attacks, saves and skill checks on a target, and the next makes it -4 and the next -6 and so-on. Typical tactics are to isolate a target, render it nigh-defenseless with curses and then have a laugh pushing the poor sod around until they get tired and just take his stuff. <br />
<br />
For all that they talk a big game ("Fool of a mortal, FALL before my FEY MAGICS!"), Banehands have little stomach for any fight their curses can't make easy. They also be bribed if the party is willing to trade some spare weapons or a keg of ale. They may even make for somewhat decent henchmen for the right Chaotic PC who knows how to flatter their self-image as warriors and lead them to plunder.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Out of these, Blueflames and Waxmen I came up with all on my own while I got the names Phantommen and Banehands off a random monster name generator. I imagine these being 2 HD mook monsters on par with gnolls, except possibly for Banehands who are probably funnier if they are a bit shit.<br />
<br />
<br />
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Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-84555038370623089712017-04-17T18:17:00.000-07:002017-04-18T00:05:48.097-07:00On Story Games, or: I'm Still Alive, OkayMore of the hexcrawl is coming. I am going to throw in a few Totally Sweet Drawings with the hex descriptions so that is taking some time.<br />
<br />
I got a chance to look through the rules for DUNGEON WORLD today, so this is sort of a response to that. Despite the tone of this post I'd still play DUNGEON WORLD if asked, you know you only live once you got to try things blar blar blar.<br />
<br />
<b>The Tragedy of Herogar and Comfort Eating</b><br />
<br />
One of the things that I hate to read in forum posts is that old chestnut, "I want to play a hero!" Because my response is, okay then, do it. I find the notion bizarre that a particular GM or a particular game could hold you back from roleplaying a heroic character. You don't need Fate Tokens or Hero Points or storytime interludes where you and the GM hold hands and share your dreams together. You want to be a hero, be heroic. "But without Plot Coupons (tm) that'll probably get me killed!" you say. Well, yes. Heroes don't tend to die comfortably in bed. C'est la guerre. "But so many deaths are just lame and pathetic! And anyway my idea of fun isn't playing a rat catcher who dies of sepsis in a gutter."<br />
<br />
<br />
Okay, I'll go this far---I don't think you should be forced to play someone INCOMPETENT (which is what's implied by 'rat catcher,' nevermind actual rat catchers would have a ton of immediately useful skills for most dungeoncrawls but whatever) and you shouldn't be forced to play someone FEEBLE or PATHETIC. The assumption going into most D&D games is that even level 1 PCs are a cut above the common fabric---level 1 fighters are veterans, level 1 rogues are the toughest, wiliest guy on their corner, etc.--and that suits me fine. I think that should be the standard, with the most 'hardcore' method of 3d6-in-order-don't-name-the-guy-til-level-2 being the option, but it's kind of like do you say tomayto or tomahto, whatever. <br />
<br />
<br />
Let's say you roll up a lvl 1 Paladin named Herogar. He's a studly stoical dude with a cool beard and a big ole greatsword. You proudly present a single-spaced page of handwritten backstory detailing his journey from dreamy farmboy to knight-errant, sprinkling the tale with lost love, a bitter rivalry and paths not taken. A taut, unpretentious piece, a springboard for greater things. You have high hopes for Herogar. <br />
<br />
<br />
Your first dungeon. The Rogue is methodically prodding an iron door with a 10-ft pole while the party takes five. The jackass Bard plays inspire competence on his keytar. The DM rolls for a wandering encounter. Dire rats! six--no, eight, no--ten of them! There is a round of boos at the table. The DM weathers a sharp plastic pyramid to the face. Undaunted, he calls for initiatives. Herogar gets a 1. The rats charge, yellow diseased slaver foaming from their jaws. The rogue says something about being a ranged build and legs it, as does the bard. Once again, the skill monkies have made a mess and the tanks get the bill. No point in running in scale mail anyway--Herogar and Fallguy the fighter barely have time to brace before a carpet of shrieking, spitting mangy fur swamps them. The combat is over fast--Herogar is face down in his own blood, his flesh sheared off in chunks by the scythe-like teeth of the maddened rats. A gruesome end. His scattered bones will never be borne back to the farm.<br />
<br />
<br />
Wasn't quite what you had in mind for poor Herogar. You have a few options at this point. You can conclude this DM and this campaign aren't for you, get up and leave. I can't say that's invalid. There'll be a place for you at RPGnet. After all it hurts to see potential wadded up and thrown away due to a mix of bad luck and letting someone play a Bard. It would have been one thing if Herogar went out on YOUR terms--say, if he squared up to the oncoming horde and cried "go, I'll hold them off!" that'd be how a Paladin ought to go out. But you didn't even get that. A few rolls and an anonymous death. <br />
<br />
<br />
Or, you roll up Dave the Paladin. Dave is very similar to Herogar--they even have similarly heroic facial hair. You could almost say he's an echo of his fallen, unknown predecessor. There's a key difference though--Dave has opted for a one-handed weapon and heavy shield, prioritizing AC over offensive power. He also carries a bandolier of jars of lamp oil, each a potential flaming grenade. Not only will these deal fiery punishment to a target, if struck on the ground the molotovs can provide short but vital area denial---long enough to keep an adventurer from getting swarmed perhaps, and provide that vital window of time to run. <br />
<br />
<br />
From a STORY perspective, there's no connection between Herogar and Dave. But taken from the perspective that you are playing a game--one with a learning curve and tricks to master--Herogar's death has meaning. He died so that Dave might be spared his mistakes. And perhaps Dave WILL get that heroic moment of sacrifice, a moment to be fondly recalled as an awesome moment of roleplaying in years to come. And it will come about not because some interlocking system of safety nets predestined it but because YOU EARNED IT. You earned that moment, and Dave will have earned his spot in Memorable Character Valhalla (or who knows, maybe he'll get to retire to a grand stronghold at the end of a storied career). Long after you forget whatever it was you called your PC's rival in their backstory, you'll remember the verdict of the dice, the careful planning, the anticipation. <br />
<br />
<br />
Or maybe not. Maybe there's more of the dramatist than the gambler in your genes. D&D is a lot of things to a lot of people. All I know is ice cream earned tastes better than ice cream NOW, ice cream eaten for comfort food (to be honest, I don't actually like ice cream). Me, I love to gamble, and I lose a lot. Many a character of mine has bled out on the floor ignominiously, slain by the failure of my crappy chessex d20 (I keep forgetting to throw away the blue one). Even my characters who survived to become storied heroes have had downright humiliating failures, a stain forever on my character's psychic image of heroic prowess. The thing about games though, is to me they're only fun when they remain unpredictable. A game wherein you negotiate for the outcome you want ("I deal the dragon its death wound but lose my ancestral sword in its scaly hide as the beast tumbles into the crevasse") sounds less like a game to me and more like an acting exercise. I don't want to be given my success after a round of bargaining, I want to WREST it from an earnestly fought opposition through the right mix of planning and luck. That's the sweet spot for me, and I don't mind sacrificing a few made-up people (always more where they came from) to get there. Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-33388684544058824482017-04-06T19:10:00.001-07:002017-04-06T19:21:18.466-07:00Hexcorl I got bored yesterday and started making a new hexcrawl. The first thing you have to do when creating a new hex map is figure out how big you want your hexes to be. Initially I was thinking large--say each hex would represent two days of travel for an unencumbered person walking presuming no obstacles whatsoever. But that was a little crazy. I decided to make them six miles on a side and twelve across, or essentially one day's travel for an unencumbered person walking at an easy pace and facing no obstacles.<br />
<br />
Next, I created d6 terrain types, each marked by a symbol. Then I thought of d8 things to be in hexes and marked each with a certain color. Then, to determine the path of rivers and roads, I made a chart of d8 directions. I recorded the three columns on a notecard as shown here: <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZSlpwiB_6pfRcARuP0foGAe-3mlfRXnAGK8m2Z_Q5N9bp9MG2a1rLhQU5nbWBLvc_yrEEODWZgAoBEIpE4gFt8tVXdOWVsPMJL9t5kz4qgPHD4kWSoGcrfcXEjl8twA46c-mmQoKm4p3/s1600/002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZSlpwiB_6pfRcARuP0foGAe-3mlfRXnAGK8m2Z_Q5N9bp9MG2a1rLhQU5nbWBLvc_yrEEODWZgAoBEIpE4gFt8tVXdOWVsPMJL9t5kz4qgPHD4kWSoGcrfcXEjl8twA46c-mmQoKm4p3/s200/002.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>To spare you the effort of peering at my crimped handwriting, here's what the columns say - <br />
<br />
<b>Terrain</b><br />
1. Temp. Plain (T in a circle) <br />
2. Temp. Marsh/Swamp (T over three squiggly lines)<br />
3. Temp Forest (T between two trees) <br />
4. Temp. Hills (T under a curving line)<br />
5. Temp. Mountains (T under a cone)<br />
6. Cold Mountains (C under a cone. Presumably a cold mountains hex represents a massif or table-land which is sufficiently high above the surrounding environs to have its own climate). <br />
<b><br />
Directions: </b>1 - N; 2 - NW; 3 - W; 4 - SW; 5 - S; 6 - SE; 7 - E; 8 - NE;<br />
<br />
<b>In This Hex</b><br />
1. Town/Community (fuchsia)<br />
2. Ruin (green)<br />
3. Superpredator (yellow. I define a superpredator as a creature of CR 7 or above which could well dominate at least one hex area.)<br />
4. Magical Wonder (pink) <br />
5. Warzone (red)<br />
6. Fortress (blue) <br />
<br />
I began from the lower left hand corner of my paper and worked rightwards by row, eventually filling out 51 hexes (three rows) in this way. Once this first bunch of rows was completed, I first tried using a "die drop" method employing a d4 to draw in paths/roads, as suggested at excellent blog, <a href="http://retiredadventurer.blogspot.com/2017/04/generating-paths-in-hexes.html" target="_blank">The Retired Adventurer</a>. This didn't go too well because the hexes made by my printer turned out to be much too small so after producing some truly ugly and bizarre pathways I settled on rolling a d8 for singular direction for roads and then streams. Essentially once I had a next direction I just drew the river flowing into the next hex over in a way that looked, I dunno, good. Where the rivers doubled back, I filled in the space with a lake.<br />
<br />
So here's what the thing looks like - <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiw8sGUjXD97QpNeV3ESDB3MLQWSHMOzpaFLD_9S3X7Grl-9MIVoUS3omYu36PB4jAnZ_FerIi35ZPz35f7vLgEiUINMF2a9kCIa09uHt9k8gzOtFLT-VsR8xzp4cF2QI5FWHL6mkS48Di/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="83" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiw8sGUjXD97QpNeV3ESDB3MLQWSHMOzpaFLD_9S3X7Grl-9MIVoUS3omYu36PB4jAnZ_FerIi35ZPz35f7vLgEiUINMF2a9kCIa09uHt9k8gzOtFLT-VsR8xzp4cF2QI5FWHL6mkS48Di/s320/001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Obviously, The Thing In The Hex is not literally where I marked it with a dot. However the lakes and rivers will hew to those shapes. <br />
<br />
What you might notice right away, beginning from the left, is there are a LOT of mountain hexes interspersed with bunches of marsh hexes. So we have here a very stark landscape with chains of stony vaults, in the rifts of which are reaches of spongy lowland (perhaps brackish lagoons) fed by mighty but rambling rivers. <br />
<br />
Looking back at this horizontal strip of land we see a profusion of Magical Wonders. My thought with this is there's a thing in the hex that does something weird, like maybe a statue that <i>polymorphs</i> you for 1d6 days or a flock of birds that can foretell the future---off-the-wall, potentially gamechanging stuff you're not going to find in the Core Rulebook's list of magic items. Apparently this country has a <i>lot</i> of such things. <br />
<br />
Notice, interestingly, the triad of connected communities to the south and east (hexes 12, 13 and 14); two occupy hilly country and the eastmost a plain. Immediately eastwards of them you have a similar chain of ruins (hexes 15, 16, 17) semicircling some local oddity against the lake (hex 33). In fact, if you look at where the settlements are they seem to predominate in the eastwards third--hexes 15, 16, 17, 30, 48 and 32 are longitudinally close and hold communities of some form. To the west, however, we see a dense cloud of active fortifications: hexes 25, 8, 6, 41, 39, 38, 20, and 35. Whereas in this western longitude only 18, 2, 5 and 37 contain non-militarized(?) settlements. A community will probably have some defensive measures and many fortifications may well have a smaller attached community, but the colors show where the emphasis is.<br />
<br />
Finally we notice that where we see a ruin, they are always part of some contiguous grouping: hexes 3 and 4; 26, 27, 28, 44 and 45; 15, 16 and 17. Of course they may be part of some linked chain of ruins or not. It is interesting how the largest grouping of ruins occupies the center of this latitudinal strip of land. <br />
<br />
So we have a region, starkly divided between mountains and lowlands, festooned with unique and probably dangerous magical oddities, with a cluster of sagging ruins at its center, lots of fortified/militarized little communities with some marginal areas of peaceful settlement and dotted with a few hot spots of currently active warfare. And three, count 'em three, giant monsters everybody tries to stay clear of. Honestly it's cray cray how well this worked out.<br />
<br />
<b>Time to Brainstorm</b><br />
So the rote part of our hexmap is done and now it's time to pick my own brain and come up with some stuff. Each of my categories needs a broad list of things I can roll for randomly to see which of those is in the hex.<br />
<br />
<b>1d10 Superpredators </b>(must be CR 7+)<br />
1. Really Tough-Ass Manticore<br />
2. Wyvern<br />
3. Nymph (I'm kind of borrowing <a href="http://goblinpunch.blogspot.com/2016/06/nymphs.html" target="_blank">Goblin Punch</a>'s neat idea of Nymphs as a kind of local menace just through sucking everything in around them with their beauty)<br />
4. Chymera<br />
5. Dire Bear<br />
6. Really Tough Old-Ass Owlbear (I should probably share my headcanon on the lifecycle of owlbears sometime) <br />
7. Androsphinx<br />
8. Dragonne <br />
9. Athach <br />
10. Medusa (I don't remember if I got this idea from Goblin Punch also but in my D&D headcanon Medusas are basically Nymphs That Went Bad) <br />
<br />
<b>1d12 Who Rules This Fort?</b><br />
1. Elflord level 8+1d4. Is (1d3) 1) Fighter-Wizard crossclass type; 2) A cavalier; 3) A Sorcerer with some weird-ass monster ancestry. Rules a small village of hot elves, has a cadre of Extremely Badass Sword-Dancers or Magic-Archers or whatever. Probably under the protection of Giant Eagles. Expect lots of feasting, dancing and snooty remarks.<br />
<br />
2. Death Knight, cavalier level 7+1d3. Castle guarded by skellingtons, rules over a dilapidated hamlet of terrorized peasants. Undoubtedly has a tragic backstory.<br />
<br />
3. Vampire, cavalier level 7+1d3. As Death Knight but it's way sexier. Probably has a pack of werwolf thugs collecting his taxes.<br />
<br />
4. High Priest, Cleric lvl 9+1d4. This dude is undoubtedly only in his fort long enough to gear up for his next crusade and he's probably looking for donations. <br />
<br />
5. Courteous Baron. Fighter level 9+1d4. Totally a straight-up dude.<br />
<br />
6. Robber Baron. Fighter level 9+1d4. Will shake travelers down for all they've got, generous with handing out stints in the oubliette. <br />
<br />
7. Paladin. Level 8+1d6. Undoubtedly just on his way to go take care of something in some other hex. If PCs are susceptible to moral guilt they will probably end up as his new followers. <br />
<br />
8. Ranger (or maybe Inquisitor) cadre. This fort is the headquarters of some kind of specialized monster-hunter society and they're looking for MEN OF TALENT to go scout out some other hex for them. <br />
<br />
9. Cadre of Thieves. This castle has been bought or leased by the Thieves' Guild and is being used as an innocuous base of operations (because who would think the Thieves would operate IN PLAIN SIGHT???) Leadership is a committee 1d4+2 Rogues of level 4+1d3; at least one will be a fighter crossclass. They are undoubtedly plotting a raid on some castle or town nearby, able to scope their target just fine from their TOTALLY LEGITIMATE fortress that they LEGIT BOUGHT and DON'T LOOK IN THE PANTRY THERE'S NOTHING THERE I DON'T KNOW WHO THAT DEAD GUY IS<br />
<br />
10. Archmage. This castle is the domicile of an archmage (Wizard lvl 10+1d6). He does not want to be disturbed and his robot guards will be showing you the way out. Alternatively (1d3) 1. Sorcerer; 2. Summoner; 3. Alchemist.<br />
<br />
11. Tax Farmer. The guy who lives in this castle and collects rent from the little hamlet around it is not a military dude. He has like 7+1d3 levels in Aristocrat or Expert and some decent political connections. <br />
<br />
12. Brigand Lord. Not that different from a Robber Baron except this guy doesn't have the support of the Count/King/Whatever. Technically he is fair game to get steamrolled by the first people to roll up to his door but he has enough men/local support/is a huge enough hardass to make it a tough undertaking. Probably a fighter or cavalier lvl 8+1d6. <br />
<br />
<b>1d8 Magical Wonders Brainstormery Prompts</b><br />
1. Magical statue<br />
2. Giant crystalline formation<br />
3. Magic well<br />
4. Magical creature(s) <br />
5. Peaceful/blessed cemetary<br />
6. Magical plant(s)<br />
7. Hallowed ancient battlefield<br />
8. Disused/ruined magical device (like an arcanotech steampump or something) <br />
<br />
You'll notice none of the ruins are anything inimically hostile like ACCURSED CEMETERY THAT SPAWNS INFINITE GHOULS or something LotFP-y like that. If you've read enough by me, by now you know that's not the vibe I go for.<br />
<br />
<b>1d12 Ruin Origins</b><br />
1. Giant/Cyclopean<br />
2. Elven (type based on terrain)<br />
3. Dwarf<br />
4. Destroyed human fortress<br />
5. Destroyed human temple<br />
6. Raided Wizard's Seclusium <br />
7. Fey Ruins<br />
8. Druidical Ruins <br />
9. Snakemen Ruins<br />
10. Ruined purpose-built arcane complex (like a transplanar airport or something) <br />
11. Ruined Evil Humanoid temple<br />
12. Ruined Horde of Tiamat Spawning-Palace <br />
<br />
<b>1d10 Town/Community Races</b><br />
This place is inhabited by...<br />
1. Mens<br />
2. Elfs (type by terrain) (Plains, Hills = High; Forest = Forest; Marsh = Wild; Mountains = Grey)<br />
3. Dorfs (type by terrain) (Forest, Plains, Marsh = Reroll race; Hills = Hill; Mountains = Mountain<br />
4. Catmans (1d2: 1. Elder Scrolls style; 2. Thundercats style)<br />
5. Crowmans <br />
6. <a href="http://faerunian.wikia.com/wiki/Illumian" target="_blank">Illumians</a><br />
7. Gnomes (type by terrain) (Plains, Marsh = Reroll; Mountains, Hills = Rock, Forest = Forest) <br />
8. Hobbits (never bought into the halfling subraces) <br />
9. Dragonmans<br />
10. Monstermen (Marsh or adj. body of water = Locathah; Mountains = Aaracokra; Plains = Centaurs; Forest = <a href="http://galea.wikia.com/wiki/Nycters" target="_blank">Nycter</a>)<br />
-NOTE: Roll a d100 for each community. If you got 50 or under it's just humans. <br />
<br />
With this list of items for fleshing out each hex, there remains the final thing of course: DUNGEONS. I will go with a 25% chance each hex may hold a dungeon. <br />
<br />
NEXT - We flesh this out, beginning with hex 1 (but definitely not ending with hex 51) <br />
<br />
Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-17387469421825812472017-04-04T23:23:00.000-07:002017-04-04T23:39:45.546-07:00So I watched Coraline last nightReally good movie. Sweet and creative. I don't watch a lot of kids' movies (being an adult with serious grown up tastes, obviously) so IDK how typical it is to show a somewhat less than perfect family but I liked that her parents weren't saints. The Belle Dame is an amazing monster design (notice she goes through three distinct "looks" as the story goes on, her true form a delayed reveal like in the best horror movies). It played like a single really excellent encounter or adventure built around one fairly complex monster.<br />
<br />
The movie was an excellent fairy or "fair folk" story which hit on a lot of the themes those types of tales do, without being rote about it. Of course I guess technically it was a ghost story but the line between ghosts and the fair folk is fairly blurred when you really look at the "canon" I guess. Dullehan is a good example---the headless rider is usually connected to the Fair Folk but seems to be a classic example of undead (same I guess with Jack 'O the Lantern or Will-o-the-Wisps). That's something I want to push in my Pathfinder game (since I've gone so far as to create monsters of my own and received no complaints I've felt free to make the monsters and their taxonomy my own for a while). The Fairies and the Undead aren't the same thing anymore than a Leprechaun is a Ghoul but there's a connection there---both are warded away by sacred ground or sacred objects, for instance.<br />
<br />
Of course the real question is, if Coraline was a Pathfinder player character what class would she be? The question is deceptively tricky because Coraline herself is just a kid---a fairly well written one, in that (apologies to my juvenile readers) she's not really a fully-formed person yet. Who knows what she'd grow up into. Her character traits (curious/adventurous, willful/demanding, even dare we say BOSSY) could be (or should be, for my money) common to any adventurous type.<br />
<br />
<b>What we Know<br />
</b><br />
She likes the outdoors, has no problem getting dirty. Has something of a green thumb. Knows the trick of dousing rods. Druid could work (earth domain obviously, be sure to give her mud ball for her first domain spell). Her proclivity for crawling and climbing and general agility suggests Rogue. Appetite and temperament (common to all tween girls, I can say so having grown up with one) suggests Barbarian. On the other hand seeing as magic is a theme throughout the story Sorcerer or Witch could do her justice.<br />
<br />
Buuut I think my first instinct is the best here.<br />
<br />
<b>Character Inspired by Coraline -</b> CN Adolescent Human Druid; Med. Humanoid; HD: 1d8+1 (9 hp); Spd: 30 ft; AC: 16 (+2 Dex +3 hide shirt +1 Dodge)Touch 13, FF 13; BaB: +0; CMB: -1; CMD: 11; Atks: Dagger -1 melee/+2 thrown 10 ft (1d4-1 19-20/x2 pierce) or javelin +2 thrown 30 ft (1d6-1 x2 pierce); S/R: 5/5 ft; SA: <i>Acid Dart</i> (sp) +2 ranged touch 30 ft (1d6+1 acid); SQ: Awareness (+1 Svs, Conc. chk), Heart of the Mountains (+2 climb, acrobatics), Fvrd Class: Druid (+1 skill pt), Nature Sense, Wild Empathy, Bond: Earth Domain; Svs: Fort +4, Ref +3, Will +5; Ablts: Str 09 Dex 15 Con 13 Int 13 Wis 15 Cha 10<br />
<b>Feats:</b> Dodge <br />
<b>Skills (1/5)</b> Acrobatics (cc) +4*, Climb +4*, Knowledge (Nature) +7, Perception +6, Survival +8<br />
*-1 chk. pen.<br />
<b>CL:</b> 1st | <b>Conc. Chk:</b> +4 | <b>Spells/Day:</b> 0risons - 3 | lvl 1 - 2+1<br />
<b>Equipment:</b> Dagger, javelins x6, hide shirt, wet weather cloak/boots, waterproof pack, waterskin, GIANT SPOOL OF YARN, pitons, caltrops, misc. camping gear (Med. Load) <br />
<b>Spells Prep'd</b><br />
0risons - <i>Resistance, Enhanced Diplomacy, Mending</i><br />
lvl 1 - <i>Mudball, Monkey-Fish, Magic Stone [Domain]</i><br />
<i></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8JMxG3qI0xla13KSfCWnyW43Uf0qpNWVgf2pRSxYa5d1zXkWepxY5s8IvDBfjCJ1sV4yrCKf_wcO3IZNOcX4FIdpapWPkoDbLm4uLCnUfoBUka26yWBoEUi9xKcC4_iR5jP-velBOSF9/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8JMxG3qI0xla13KSfCWnyW43Uf0qpNWVgf2pRSxYa5d1zXkWepxY5s8IvDBfjCJ1sV4yrCKf_wcO3IZNOcX4FIdpapWPkoDbLm4uLCnUfoBUka26yWBoEUi9xKcC4_iR5jP-velBOSF9/s320/001.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Well I'm no Picasso, but..."</td></tr>
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<i></i>Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-65511973191093749932017-03-16T14:40:00.000-07:002017-03-16T14:43:06.642-07:001d24 encounters and some subordinate rumors for Temperate Plains (aka noob safety zone)<b>Boring navelgazy ruminations part - skip this</b><br />
<br />
Ah, the humble temperate plain. Rolling grassland dotted by the occasional small wood, grassy gnoll or dramatic bluff, picturesque lonely tower or ruin and the winding furrows of a hilltop thorpe. And of course, a well-maintained highway so your players know where to go! Which, all too often they aren't charged for the pleasure of using.... but anyway. What is the charm of this sort of Middle Lattitudes, Middle Time Period, Middle-of-the-road fantasy land? Why do we keep coming back to it? Admittedly one reason is pure practicality--it's simpler to place a quest in temperate climes than someplace the Players will have to guard against sunstroke or freezing to death. As well, we've all seen posters advertising the French countryside so we can picture easily what sort of place we should be imagining, have a basic understanding/set of core assumptions as to what's there (e.g., every village has its tavern, every farming community answers to some feudal overlord who probably lives in a keep, life moves to the rhythm of the seasons, etc.). But is that it?<br />
<br />
For me there's somethng intangibly compelling about <i>ordinariness</i>. That is in stark contrast to a lot of the DIY-D&D blogs which I read for inspiration and so linked here. Setting writeups should pass over the familiar and get to the "good stuff" (i.e, what you're reading for), goes one chain of reasoning. After all, if a place is <i>ordinary</i> and <i>familiar</i> then you shouldn't need any help creating it, right? (wrong. I don't listen to a lot of D&D podcasts but when I do, almost always the worst part is the DM totally dropping the ball on the simple stuff--giving a voice to the tavernkeeper or mayor, making the ordinary human town feel like a place that's actually lived in by people going about their lives, etc.--but more on that later, maybe).<br />
<br />
By contrast I'm a little obsessed with mundanities like holidays, false folklore, scribal quibbling over minor points of history, what's on the table in this or that season. I'm obviously trying to achieve something here or I wouldn't keep coming back to it. I mean partly to me as a writer it's a challenge--can you make Generic D&Dsville feel so vital, so lived-in and living, your players won't even care that they've seen this movie before? But moving beyond whether or not your rolling green countryside DESERVES a writeup I think my intrigue is with that sense of <i>hominess</i> some writers instill in their fantasyscape. Like, in Narnia, things are strange but nothing's really <i>weird.</i> Turns out when beavers can talk they talk just like ordinary salt-of-the-earth Midlands types and live in cozy cottages with coatracks and hearth. Instead of feeling decadent and dangerous, things feel a little playful like in Alice's Adventures (have I ever mentioned how much grimdark takes on Wonderland annoy me? They annoy me so much. Wonderland should be <i>fun</i>). Does this kind of thing have a name? (other than Epic Pooh, I guess). Like, "Cozy Fantasy," maybe?<br />
<br />
REQUIREMENTS OF THE COZY FANTASY<br />
-Strong authorial voice like your grandpa is reading you a story. Do this as DM, remark frequently if a house is nice or dirty, if a guard is sleeping on duty call him a waister or scrub, offer an opinion on the behavior of your NPCs (preferably from a stuffy and slightly priggish perspective 'cuz that's funny).<br />
-Spotlight totally ordinary shit. What kind of lunch did your players pack on their journey? What's the tavern's fare and how is it prepared (WITH NINE HERBS AND SPICES!?) Is the market dusty, redolent of cow poop but also perfume? Remark how sleeping on a threadbare bedroll on the hard ground pains but the forest smells sweet; the mountain spring carries a tang of copper; the squire always holds court from the saddle because he's embarrassed about that limp he's had since a horse kicked him years ago. Be judgy, have a voice--the narrator is what makes Cozy Fantasy.<br />
-The human is present even in the inhuman. H.P. Lovecraft did not give a shit if any of his fucked-up mutant villagers had a crush on the local taverngirl or how they felt about eating fish all the time but this stuff is important in Cozy Fantasy. In Cozy Fantasy the orc guards will bitch to each other about how they're underpaid and sick of salt beef.<br />
-Most characters are good, or good-hearted if rough around the edges, or just mischievous/greedy or at least too weird to be malevolent. Actual maliciousness is rare, mainly the property of the story's villain.<br />
-There can be scary freaky shit (the Barrow Downs, The Doldrums, that fucked up trash lady in Labyrinth) but it's not as powerful as forces that are at least benign (the King pardons the Queen of Hearts' prisoners, Tom Bombadil shows up at the last minute, Aslan)---not that those forces will always rescue you (that'd be a shitty game) but they're <i>there.</i><br />
-Things happen for a reason. There can't just be a freaky ghost haunting the moors, he needs a backstory and a cause for his haunting (he can be an asshole though). <br />
-Situations are often funny, maybe a little lame. Like, a giant bandit who just wants horses (good eatin'), a sphinx who's riddles are pathetically easy, a knight who told his varlet to fetch his enchanted sword of giant's bane and is brought a large greatsword he can't use ("I thought sire wanted the giant-sword?"). The absurd is never overlooked even in the midst of the uncanny. <br />
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None of this is getting to the heart of the matter but ah well, you probably know what I'm talking about anyway. So, Cozy Fantasy is definitely a thing. But what's the appeal? Most players don't want to feel like they're in a children's adventure, they want to impale an orc, hear his death squeal, scoop the loot and back home to wenches for another kind of impaling. Everybody wants to be Conan (or Cugel?) only weirdos would want to play Frodo*. I dunno, this post was supposed to just be an encounter/rumors table before I ruined it with this bloviating (I hope you took my advice and skipped this part but if not it's not too late!) about whatever. <br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">*Yes there is a character class called The Alice and it is exactly that and it owns, and yes I'm setting up a strawman shut up.</span><br />
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My ideal idea is to have an area that's basically got this tone and make it the starting, central area of the campaign. So your tour bus STARTS in familiar, slightly cozy Medievalalia And Folktale Land, and then you level up a bit and go over the hill and there's the Quivering Flesh Pits of Xor. Unlike scripted fiction, which damn well better know its tone and stick to it, RPGs can and will cycle from Mallory-esque chivalrous adventure to gritty war movie to Cosmic Horror to slapstick comedy and back again and that's a feature, not a bug (one of the things I dislike about Dungeonworld-style story games is it militantly enforces one genre, one set of expectations, unless everybody can agree on a set of appropriate story-tropes the whole thing falls apart). I love the idea of reflecting that FANTASY KITCHEN SINK approach in one world very literally--like one country's all Dragonlance High Fantasy and the next one over's built for Ravenloft Gothic Romance while Game of Thrones' political soap opera is going on up north and there's some Lovecraftian nihilist interdimensional horror sniffing at the corners if you go looking for it and there's a samurai country where the combat rules are literally different and then there's that Gonzo Island with all the random tables nobody likes to think about because It's Too Silly...* Some will argue this is what Paizo goes for with Golarion and it's why Golarion is such an inchoate, tone-deaf mess of a setting, but I'd argue a bigger reason is most of Paizo's writers Aren't Very Good (sorry guys). <br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">* This goes without saying but if your players don't want to play along with the "local genre," like say they just bring a mercenary army to Dracula's castle and lay siege, <i>do it their way</i>. This is no longer Gothic Horror, it's a war movie featuring Dracula. Dig it. </span><br />
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-------<b>END NAVELGAZING, PLEASE READ FROM HERE</b>----<br />
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So right. Here's essentially a temperate Midlands-esque feudal starting area for your players to begin their adventure. How does one roll 1d24? Utilize <a href="https://www.random.org/">Random.org</a> or some other number generator if you like.<br />
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NOTES: Probably start rolling for encounters when PCs have left the starting town at least six miles out, more probably 10 to 12. I like a base 15% chance of random encounter per hour traveled in an average 8-hour traveling day and every four hours while the party is stationary/resting. If you roll a stationary encounter (like the knight holding a <i>pas d'armes</i>) while the party is stationary, place the encounter further down the road or think of something like the knight's page rides up to the PCs' camp bearing his challenge.<br />
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Page references are 3.5. Leveled NPCs are Pathfinder. DEAL WITH IT. <br />
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1.) Hound Archon (MM pp.16) Came to the Material Plane to answer a widow's prayer. On his way to a dungeon to retrieve a fallen Paladin's remains. Will invite good characters to join him, sniffs and snarls at evil characters but doesn't start a fight.<br />
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2.) Spectral Rider (MMV, pp. 160) Bound to remain in a blasted heath with a great dead oak tree at its center. Appears by night, challenges any warriors by blasting his hunting horn. Charges worthy foes who enter the heath, ignores knaves. His bones and battered armor (with a little repair, functional half-plate) are buried beneath the tree.<br />
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3.) Pack of 1d3+1 ghouls (MM pp.119) Haunt a desecrated, abandoned [word for moderately-sized stone house of worship suitable for your setting]. The roof of the place is just visible from the road behind a copse. By night the ghouls gnaw on the old bones in the overgrown cemetery. Those who pass the building by day feel a strange, sinister urge to enter. Beneath the vaulted apse inside is a +1 mace with a treasure map to a distant dungeon wrapped around it.<br />
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4.) Grove of 1d4+3 dryads (MM pp. 90), being harassed by a satyr (MM pp. 219) and 1d6+2 <a href="http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/bestiary3/faun.html" target="_blank">faun</a> friends. The satyr's jaunty piping can be heard from well away. The Dryads will ask the PCs to remove these cads. By way of reward they may warn of 1d2 other encounters on this list, or offer a kiss, but they have nothing else.<br />
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5.) Glaistig (MMIII pp. 60) sitting atop a grassy hillock by the road. Her skirt conceals her bestial legs so long as she moves carefully and doesn't run. She plays a flute beautifully. It's been a while since she fed but she's not fool enough to attack an armed band. She will try to lure one of the PCs away to her lair, a clear pool in the center of a copse of trees. If her entreaties don't succeed she will let the party pass, then tail them up to one day away from her lair and try to pick one off if given a chance.<br />
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6.) A tinker and peddler, riding an old nag with a second horse carrying his goods (pickles and jams, pots and pans, pieces of cloth, tools). Wants conversation, may joint PCs for a while if they're willing to chat (even if going opposite way; he's not in a hurry). He knows 1d6 rumors and knows this country like the back of his hand--he can tell of 1d3+2 other encounters on this list.<br />
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7.) A pompous knight (LE human cockatrice order cavalier 3), his longsuffering squire (TN sword-bearer squire fighter 1), and two grooms/servants are encamped beside the road. The knight is holding a <i>pas d'armes</i>, an open challenge against any who cross his place on the path. He will challenge the strongest-looking warrior of the PCs to best of three tilts of the lance or (if the PCs have no combat-ready mounts) a melee to three blows. If the knight wins he will expect 150 gp or all the defeated character's war-gear. If the knight is bested, he will give a purse of 300 gp. <br />
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8.) Large Grass-Spider (hunter type, MM pp 288, +8 stealth in grassy fields, speed 40'). From a distance its thorax resembles a tussock of grass or mossy boulder. Once prey comes within 40' it springs up and attacks. <br />
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9.) Boggle of 1d3 Dire Weasels (MM pp.65), known locally as Bloodsuckers, now occupying a large burrow beneath a treestump close to the road. Will not waste effort on mounted prey, understand that characters not clad in metal are better targets than those that are. Will attempt to snatch a person and kill them quickly with blood drain, then drag the body back to their burrow. Will retreat if wounded. The burrow once belonged to a family of brownies and still has bookshelves built into the wall (almost all the books now shredded), a ruined writing desk (strongbox in drawer holds small repair tools, gems worth 12, 20 and 30 gp) and a shredded bed. <br />
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10.) Terror of 1d2+2 bloodhawks (FF pp. 23) pecking chunks out of a dead mule. Bloodhawks are unnatural, ultra-aggressive animals that attack and kill far more than they need to eat. They will attack if the PCs approach within 120'. Their morale is fierce.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The humble bloodhawk. CR 1/3 but these things are ASSHOLES.</td></tr>
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The dead mule belonged to a merchant and has a pack saddle with two bags. In one, a strongbox holds 1d100 x10 sp, 1d100 gp, four 5-yard bolts of fine silk, jasper worth 20 gp and 2 onyx worth 12 gp, and a bottle of rare wine worth 35 gp. The other saddlebag holds oats/hay.<br />
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11.) Drove of 1d8+2 <a href="http://www.d20pfsrd.com/bestiary/monster-listings/magical-beasts/almiraj/" target="_blank">almirajes</a>, known locally as Hornhares or just Horns. The small group is spread across the road sunning themselves on the pavement or munching on grass by the road's embankment. They will not be aggressive except for the drove's bull, who will attack if the PCs approach to 30 feet. If the party doesn't want a hard fight, they will have to go around! The horns are worth 50 gp on the market (meaning 25 gp goes to you).<br />
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12.) Herd animals: 1. Horses; 2. Elk; 3. Sheep; 4. Cattle. Sheep and cattle herds have a 50% chance of belonging to some nearby hamlet. With all wild herds there is a 10% chance the bull/herd leader is a dire animal (Dire Horse and Dire Elk MMII pp 75; <a href="http://www.d20pfsrd.com/bestiary/monster-listings/animals/herd-animals/sheep-ram-tohc/ram-dire-tohc/" target="_blank">Dire Ram</a>; for a Dire Bull I suggest stat as Dire Elk with a 2d8 gore on charge). <br />
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13.) Robber Knight (hum Warr 4 mounted on light warhorse) and three routiers (human Warr 1s, leather & crossbow). They will demand PCs drop weapons & turn over any goods, start shooting at 160' as knight charges. Their camp is in a nearby wood, occupied by two more crossbowmen (not in armor at that moment) and a groom (halfling commoner 1). In the knight's tent is a chest holding 2d100x10 sp, 1d100 gp, three suits of fine clothes worth 35 gp e., 75 gp in jewelry, silvered oxhorn chased with cameos of dead minstrels worth 30 gp, and a silver dagger with gold-plated handle worth 122 gp). Additionally there is a fine velvet-covered riding saddle worth 24 gp and a case of four bottles good wine (10 gp e.) In the camp also are extra weapons, camping gear and a month's food supply.<br />
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Sitting on such a big haul is making the callow knight nervous. He knocked over a merchant wagon last month and got lucky beyond his wildest dreams, but people tend to notice that scale of robbery. He has tried to get in touch with the Thieves' Guild to pawn off the treasure but they have made no move, feeling the goods are too hot just now. He is considering burying the treasure and letting it sit but doesn't trust five men and a halfling to hold their tongues long enough. <br />
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14.) Wandering sage (half-elf exp 3), a grammar/history tutor currently looking for patronage. Will answer any impromptu questions for standard fee, traveling on foot. Will brag that he knows this region as well as any historian, may be tricked into giving away important dungeon lore if ego played on. He has a whole pigskin to hold water and a wineskin; in his pack besides travel gear/rations is a fine schoolman's robe, a book on elvish grammar (+2 linguistics elvish/draconic), a chronicle of the realm (+4 kn. history/nobility this region only), and a bestiary (+2 kn. nature/dungeoneering identify monsters; book is full of misinformation like Beholders are a kind of living fungus ball, Behirs live in wells, beaver lodges hold treasure hoards, etc.) <br />
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15.) Caravan - three wagons: one supply and two hold merchandise (wool, silk, wine). Merchant (Exp 5) and teamster driving lead wagon, his wife & teamster driving second, his son and teamster driving third. Four grooms/porters walk beside with two mules carrying staves of water. Eight guards: two mounted lancers (Warr 4, on unarmored light warhorse) and six crossbowmen (Warr 2).<br />
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Merchant will hail PCs, ask for news/rumor down the road and ostentatiously toss a 20 gp ruby in payment if PCs give anything useful (the wife glares disapprovingly). If made friendly, the merchant knows 1d2 useful rumors and can warn of 1d3 other encounters on this list. He will mention that his caravan lost a mule earlier and ask if the PCs have seen it (but he will not mention what it carried).<br />
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16.) NPC adventuring party, all lvl 1d4. Probably accompanied by 1d4 linkboys/porters/grooms with 1d2 pack-beasts. 1d3 the party is 1) good 2) neutral 3) evil. They are on their way to a dungeon and will be secretive about this. They may offer to swap news but whatever the PCs tell them, they know nothing useful (like so many adventurers they are totally uninterested in the country round them!)<br />
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Roll 1d100 4x - 1-40: fighter | 41-50: halfling rogue | 51-60: human rogue | 61-70: elf magus | 71-80: dwarf gunslinger | 81-90: wizard | 91-100: cleric. Good/neutral clerics may be willing to give small assistance thru their orisons such as purifying spoiled rations or a quick healing spell.<br />
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17.) Band of 2d20 pilgrims led by a lvl 3 blind oracle. They tramp along singing hymns wearily. One man bears a wooden pole topped with a little religious diorama inside a houselike box. 1/5 of the pilgrims will be warriors (lvl 1d3), the rest common people, with pack beasts & gear as appropriate for a group their size. 50% chance they will know 1d3 rumors / warn of 1d3 encounters if PCs inquire. Their destination is 1) the abandoned house of worship, 2) the dryad grove, 3) someplace else (dungeon perhaps). If the PCs do more than merely give a hello to the pilgrimage, they will be invited to join. The oracle will say a dream told him to gather the pilgrimage and go to the destination. If the PCs succeed a DC 18 diplo check he will admit he does not know what will happen when they arrive.<br />
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If the PCs come back this way, they may hear of the pilgrimage's fate: 1) if they went to the abandoned [house of worship] they were attacked by ghouls and only 1d10 escaped (the oracle met his end there and arose as a ghast, now leading the pack). 2) if the grove, the pilgrims joined the dryads in their happy games and enjoyed a span of peace and meditation. They happily dispersed but the Oracle stayed behind, now joined to one of the Dryads as husband. <br />
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18.) Abrogar, TN lvl 1 human Magus. He is a mercenary on his way to seek employment in the Baron's castle, but he will be open if the PCs make an offer (standard fee for a lvl 1 henchman, but Abrogar is already equipped---travel supplies, mailshirt, scimitar and shortbow, and a concealed CLW potion he will withhold for himself). Abrogar knows 1d6 other encounters in the area and 1d4 rumors, but unless hired he will only trade information tit for tat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAiCEuimUZZpoQjh_1cPt-bVR9wQG6IXVdohJ7Bww3TqalJYLnIZCUF9gV0VJ3LswS1bfZUfg9JENcw2C1gd4kaVrY6_ducAQqoTq0zrUSjFcOhPf72NfAQ_xFRVCV7hfr0Dcd9VZJaQD/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAiCEuimUZZpoQjh_1cPt-bVR9wQG6IXVdohJ7Bww3TqalJYLnIZCUF9gV0VJ3LswS1bfZUfg9JENcw2C1gd4kaVrY6_ducAQqoTq0zrUSjFcOhPf72NfAQ_xFRVCV7hfr0Dcd9VZJaQD/s320/001.jpg" width="197" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Able to fight, identify magic items and provide arcane learning, Abrogar would be a useful addition to any party.</td></tr>
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19.) A band of elves numbering 2d6, 1/4 of them warriors lvl 1d3. The rest are musicians. Their leader is a lvl 5 Bard named Nyfaél. The elves have light horses but are walking along, singing and playing lutes, mandolins, a theorbo and (this is the warriors) shakers and tambours. If the party has at least one attractive member with charisma over 12 the elves will invite them to a shady copse for wine and dancing. If the PCs are game and make pleasant companions (that means armor OFF) the most attractive will find Nyfaél an amorous free spirit. Following a tryst Nyfaél will give the PC a silver dragon cameo on a chain (worth 75 gp) to remember her by. She is not going to alter her travel plans for the PC's sake but will be friendly if their paths ever cross again (unless her token was sold off!) The elves know many rumors but, more interestingly, know of many far-flung places (perhaps up to three dungeon hooks provided, or this could be a way to introduce some exotic corner of your larger setting).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd49LYQL5k7k5YIP4X3AAmncLAaFOyROEBsDN22kY3edQ168dGQw-nf3OgCd4gvxxAvXPBZD8PO5qsyc7hVa4SsE3ROpyPXmRBEFz09CBOmAof-CjfI0eaL2h7m1bCmFO-0piZIszo1dRu/s1600/002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd49LYQL5k7k5YIP4X3AAmncLAaFOyROEBsDN22kY3edQ168dGQw-nf3OgCd4gvxxAvXPBZD8PO5qsyc7hVa4SsE3ROpyPXmRBEFz09CBOmAof-CjfI0eaL2h7m1bCmFO-0piZIszo1dRu/s320/002.jpg" width="201" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nyfael</td></tr>
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20.) A large flying predator has espied the party (1d4): 1. Dire Hawk (MMII pp. 76). 2. Manticore (MM pp. 179) 3. Wyvern (MM pp. 259) 4. Chimera (MM pp 34). The monster has only just moved into this territory and was scouting the nearby hills for a suitable roost. The dire hawk will attempt to scoop up and drop an unarmored humanoid target; the rest will target a pack animal or mount if one is available, a random person otherwise.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://i.imgur.com/MRZAaI7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://i.imgur.com/MRZAaI7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dire hawks look so damn cool</td></tr>
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21.) A hippogriff (MM pp. 152) in a decorated leather saddle and bit and bridle paces around listlessly on the grass by the highway. It is skittish but will allow anyone with Wild Empathy to approach and calmly allow itself to be ridden with a successful Handle Animal (DC 10). A few hundred yards away, if the PCs search, they will find in a bush the mangled body of a dwarf in (now damaged) splint armor with long warhammer (reach weapon) and pack of supplies. His stumpy legs could not save him from his steed's wild turns. Yes, the party's Ranger might get a flying mount at level 1. Should make the game interesting.<br />
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22.) Bracer and Burner. As they travel the PCs come to a place where a river cuts across the highway (if that is not appropriate, perhaps a stone-lined irrigation ditch siphoning water from an underground reservoir to a nearby field). A quaint little raised bridge of paved stone (ramps for animals) crosses over this obstacle. Flanking the entrance to the wagon's-width bridge are a Force Golem (MMV pp 68) and Magmacore Golem (MMV pp 70), named Bracer and Burner respectively.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Force Golem</td></tr>
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Bracer and Burner hail the PCs in booming, upbeat voices. They sound a bit like that giant commie-hating robot from Fallout III or like they're always saying "Danger, Will Robinson!" They perform Power Rangers-esque posing and hand-flipping as they posture. If the PCs are noticeably armed, Bracer and Burner will challenge them to "a friendly battle." If the PCs repeatedly refuse, Bracer and Burner will try to prod them into agreeing with light force pushes and annoying heatwaves ("SURELY PROUD WARRIORS CANNOT IGNORE A CHALLENGE"). They are essentially children who want to play, but they don't fully appreciate how fragile flesh and bone are yet. Nonetheless if battle is joined, Bracer will keep his force blasts down to nonlethal damage only and Burner will limit his pyrotechnics to cutting off retreat/forcing the PCs to bunch up where Bracer can hit them all.<br />
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If struck enough times that Burner risks entering his meltdown mode they will respectfully submit and let the PCs pass. If the PCs try earnestly killing them the golem brothers will be shocked and a little hurt ("GO AND SPOIL A NICE BATTLE WITH MURDER, WILL YOU?"). If they batter the PCs to the point where one falls unconscious they will call a halt and declare themselves the winners, saying encouraging things like "GOOD JOB! YOU MADE A VALIANT EFFORT!" "IMPRESSIVE--FEW HAVE TAKEN SUCH PUNISHMENT!"<br />
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Bracer and Burner are the "children" of a powerful golem-maker who lives in a tower six miles away from the bridge, where they like to wait and challenge tough-looking passerby. Locals know if you just ignore them they'll leave you alone. They love their maker but also want to roam in the wide world. It is just possible (Diplo DC 24) the PCs might get sway them to come along on a dungeon delve in search of adventure (DC 15 if they beat B&B in a sporting fight), but they would be unpredictable companions to say the least. <br />
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23). A mounted inquisitor (lvl 5, LN) and retinue with covered wagon (1d4+2 lvl 1d4 warriors + 2 clerks with record/caselaw books, chaplain, teamster and 2 porters). If the PCs don't look suitably pious, the Inquisitor will be suspicious and unfriendly. He has heard rumors of a suspected heretic with alleged powers of prophecy leading a stray flock of the faithful somewhere in the area (this is the Oracle and his pilgrimage). He is not hunting the pilgrimage leader <i>per se</i> (actually he is on his way to the nearest mid-sized town to to hold assize) but will follow any leads the players provide (he will demand they tell him what they know, if they have seen the alleged heretic). He is not looking for a fight but he will not put up with disrespect to himself or the faith. He dislikes Paladins.<br />
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24) As the PCs travel down the road they hear an enormous snoring from within a shady copse of trees. The remains of two hooped barrels, completely smashed, are strewn across the road. Riding up parallel to an opening in the copse, the PCs behold a 14-foot tall Hill Giant (MM pp 123) lying on his side, smacking lips in drunken sleep, formidable treetrunk-club tucked under an arm. Pinned beneath one of the giant's massive hands is a struggling halfling in blacked leather armor. He has been trying to wriggle silently out from under the giant's left hand, on which is a massive golden ring. The instant he sees the PCs the Halfling tries to wave them over to (hopefully in silence) lift the heavy fingers off him. <br />
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The Halfling is a lvl 1 NE Rogue. The Hill Giant is currently in possession of a magical ring (ring of <i>glammer</i> maybe?) The Halfling heard rumors of a Giant waylaying travelers for their horseflesh and shiny objects on this road, and that the Giant wore an ornately scrolled golden ring on his finger. He set out with two barrels of ale as an offering to the Giant and made friends, intending to snatch the ring while the brute was laid out in drunken stupor. The plan almost worked, but then the Giant had to go and affectionately rest a hand on his "new friend" as he settled down. If the PCs successfully aid the Halfling, he will make a "shh" gesture and then try to slip the ring off the giant's finger without waking him--and because he's level 1, he'll probably fail. If the PCs awaken the Giant trying to free the Halfling, the Giant will reflexively close his fingers on the Halfling and toss him further back into the copse, probably killing him.<br />
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If the Giant awakens, he will still be drunk: -4 Dex, -2 atk/skills, and likely to stumble if he tries to run, this lasts 2d10 rounds. He will attack wildly. The Halfling will take any fracas as the time to run, whether he has the ring or no. If the PCs manage to bring the Giant near to death he will beg for mercy and say he has much treasure ("I been taking Mans horses for food and all shiny things, I dont know why knights never come make me stop"), the kind he knows Mans like, back in his cave in the neaby hills. If the PCs agree to let him take them to his cave he will try ambushing them again there. In his cave is d1000x3 cp, d100x3 sp, 1d10x100 gp, 2d10 gems worth 3d4 to 2d4 x10 gp, a battered suit of half-plate and several steel weapons, plus numerous belt buckles, spurs, plates, candlesticks, a few hand mirrors--any metal object that can shine if polished. He understands that's what humans trade in and piled up all this stuff as insurance.<br />
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If both the Halfling and the ring are still there when the Giant is dealt with, the Halfling will make the case that it's <i>mostly</i> thanks to him the ring was obtained by anyone so really <i>he</i> should have it. He has nothing of value to offer (just armor, a dagger, and a half-eaten sandwich now smooshed in its parcel). If the PCs refuse to give him the ring or demand he turn it over, he will not try to overcome them by main force but may trail them and wait for an opportunity to steal it back. It is possible the PCs could convince him to become a henchman if they talk of some great treasure they hope to find, but The Halfling is of bad character and will shirk danger and steal from the group given half a chance.<br />
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Credit (and thanks!) to Stahlherzog, the author of <a href="https://www.dandwiki.com/wiki/Lullaby_for_a_Drunk_(3.5e_Encounter)" target="_blank">this encounter</a> which I here adapted.<br />
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<b>ADVENTURE HOOKS/RUMORS/ETC. FOR TEMP. PLAINS NEWBIE SCRUB ZONE</b><br />
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See also <a href="http://allaboutdabunyans.blogspot.com/2016/09/12-adventure-ideas.html">this list of adventure ideas I wrote</a>, some of which are pretty good (esp. no. 5. Do no. 5).<br />
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<b>Rumors Related to These Encounters</b>1. Everybody in town is nervous. Word is that a Lord Inquisitor is on his way to hold assize over the community. Everybody agrees that Inquisitors are necessary, of course, but they do have a way of turning neighbor against neighbor. Just getting called into one's court, even if all charges are cleared, can ruin your life.<br />
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2. Have you ever heard this one? "The Ballad of Ceryse and Blaise?" It's not a well-known <i>canci</i><i>ón</i>, but it's locally famous and really good, ask the next jongleur you see about it. It's about a famous murder that happened near here, 70 years ago. Back then there was this knight, see, Blaise, and he loved this girl Ceryse, but she was the daughter of the Mayor [of our town] and betrothed to the son of this Baron... so Blaise challenged her betrothed to a fight to the death in the [Religious Structure] of St. Ancibel---there used to be a little sheep town there but it dried up and became waste. Nobody knows quite where the old [Religious Structure] is now.... right, so, Blaise won the duel but because he spilled blood on holy ground he was cursed... he wasted away from some illness and died, and on the order of the Baron he was buried somewhere in the wilderness.... but his hate lived on, and sometimes at night you can hear him blasting his horn in challenge! They say he won't rest until the son of his persecutor--I think that means our Baron now--comes and faces him. [If at any point the PCs lose interest in this story, have the teller lose track and leave off with "oh well, it's just a local legend..."]<br />
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2a. There's a desecrated and abandoned [House of Worship] somewhere in the wilderness, and the village around it was cleared and turned into a wood.<br />
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2b. On the road you might hear something like a horn at night. That's just the local ghost, never mind him!<br />
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3. The Baron has been trying to hire more warriors and put out a call all over the country. I've seen some odd characters walking along the roads and even flying in the skies! No really, a knight on a winged horse! It did look a little odd.... it was either a very big horse or a very small rider...<br />
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4. I wonder if the Baron is gearing up to finally do something about Old Lloyd.... he's a famous wizard who built a tower a few leagues from here, you can see it on clear days. Old Lloyd doesn't do anything, he just builds fancy contraptions and sells them all over the world, but he's richer than the Baron I bet... and the Baron hates that he won't even pay the land tax... <br />
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5. You're going on the road? Be careful! The Mayor wouldn't like my saying so but the trade road's been really dangerous lately. They say a giant's lurking in a wood near the route! Yeah, like two ogres on top of each other an actual giant! What does a giant even do with peoples' gold? He usually lets people go and just eats their animals at least.... I don't know, why do we even have a Baron? Everybody keeps asking when those good-for-nothing knights of his are going to do something! Pfah I'm a citizen of the town, I can say what I like...<br />
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6. If you listen to these locals they'll have you thinking the woods teem with beautiful fairy women... haha, wishful thinking if you ask me. My cousin for instance's a herdsman and he swears you can hear "fairy pipes" in the forest, and I tell him.... you're out there for ten hours a day, sometimes overnight on a bald hill... It'd be crazy if you DIDN'T hear things, right? Makes you wonder though... why are fairy men always these short little goblin-faced characters and then fairy women are these tall beautiful types? Maybe that's why they're always trying to seduce mortal-folks hey, haha. <br />
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~<b>Not related to Encounters Necessarily</b>~<br />
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7. You know those little roadside shrines they always put up every six miles or so? The ones with little bowls or slots you can put in donations and get a blessing, yeah? Some <i>rekless knave</i> has been stealing out of 'em! I know! It's a total outrage against religion! I knew our local bandits were bad but not <i>this </i>bad... <br />
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7a) Actually, you want to know what I think? I think it's a scam. How would you even get into one of those shrines without breaking it up? The coins are deposited in wooden strong boxes through a slot and only the [Dean/Rector/Monsignor] has the key! So I think it's a scam.... like, defrauding itself? Only you didn't hear it from me.<br />
7b) It's probably the Baron. You know he hates [the Bishop/Dean/Monsignor]. Funny that they're cousins, but I bet the Churchman always felt like he got the worse end of that deal...<br />
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8. You know what it all is. It's politics, politics. The routiers---highwaymen you know---actually answer to the Baron. They're his little "extra tax" he uses to put the squeeze on our town's trade when he feels we haven't been properly... <i>enthusiastic</i> about paying duties and tithes, yeah? And then we've got the Thieves' Guild.... Thieves' Guild that's a laugh! They answer to the Mayor and the [Bishop/Dean/Whatever] in our town right, and they're our little counter-insurance policy. No really, what do you think a Thieves' Guild does primarily? They get goods in and out through the city gates on the sly, of course. Duty-Free! And who profits from that? Well no, not short term, but let me explain, if you made all trading untaxed....... [launch into appropriately medievalized conception of <i>laissez faire </i>economics until players revolt] <br />
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9) Did you know some people who want to see the future get themselves bit by a cockatrice on purpose? It's true! They just hold out their hand and let the nasty little blighter peck it, and there they are with a sign around their neck saying "wake me up in 100 years..." wishful thinking, hah. <br />
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10) [old Scottish groundskeeper] People get confused and call everything fairies, but that's just a gloss on what they don't know. You know you've got your spirits of the woodlands right, like Dryads and Satyrs---well, they're sort of like, spirits of the land personified, right? But then you've got your nasty ones, which are properly called <i>fough</i> which just means "hateful bastard" and they're <i>not from around here</i> get it---someplace deep underground I think...<br />
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<b>~Adventures in the Newb Zone~</b><br />
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1. Ogres have taken over a two-story brewery a couple miles from town! Besiege/storm the place, save the much-valued brewmaster and make the louts pay for ruining the Mayday batch! Cue highly strategic brawl with 1d4 staggering-drunk, barrel-throwing ogres prone to vomiting when hit.<br />
-----> Twist: This definitely needs no twist.<br />
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2. A lone Dire Wolf has been terrorizing the flocks. Stalk the elusive bastard to his lair or, less stupidly, lay a trap for him in a barn or something. Burning down one hay-barn should be a small price to pay to end this threat.<br />
-----> Twist: None, except that the wolf is old, tough and not as easy to lure into an obvious trap as you might hope. <br />
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3. Giant ants have been seen near the edge of the farmers' fields. You know what giant ants mean, right? Somewhere nearby there's probably a large reservoir of underground water! Here's a dowsing rod, go, go, go! No you don't have to wipe out the hive, the Baron's men will do that, we just need you to find water. Should be totally safe.<br />
-----> Twist: The giant ant colony is near a dungeon entrance, obv. <br />
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4. A false peddler has been traveling the land selling supposed magic potions, claiming to be licensed by the Wizards' Guild [if there is no Wizards' Guild or equivalent body in your setting, this is just part of the ruse!] For the most part the fake potions have been harmless, but a few people have fallen ill. Unfortunately he seems to be skilled in disguise [or there's... multiple false peddlers?] Sniff the bastard out (perhaps pose as a band of foolish adventurers looking for potions on the cheap...) and bring him in to the authorities (alternatively he can die while <i>fleeing arrest</i> and you'll save the authorities some trouble).<br />
-----------> Twist: There are multiple false peddlers and most of them are well-meaning dupes. Their magic potions are supplied from "a magic spring" guarded by "an actual wizard" (maybe a doppelganger? a wererat? one of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fossegrim" target="_blank">these guys</a>?) and the spring is, of course, in the nearest dungeon the players wanted to go to anyway. It really is enchanted (that's how the dupes are convinced), but if bottled the magic leaves the water in 1d4 hours. The fake wizard's been allowing the would-be sellers to make a profit while charging them for his bottled magic water in a classic ponzi scheme. If you want, messing with the water could also lead to an invasion of enraged thirsty giant ants. <br />
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<br />Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-31741051912152049892017-03-01T14:09:00.000-08:002017-03-01T14:09:47.690-08:00Three WellsI had stuff to do today but I decided to play with <a href="http://elfmaidsandoctopi.blogspot.com/2016/01/d100-strange-wells.html">Konsumterra's awesome Strange Wells table instead.</a> I'm thinking of putting these three holes in the wilderness near the entrance of a dungeon (so amusingly you could have an entire dungeon placed right before the original dungeon). Here's what I got: <br />
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<b><u>Three Wells<br /></u></b><br />
<b>1.</b> <i> Shaft type: </i>(1)A hole in the earth, hidden to most by rocks or grass. Muddy and narrow. <i> Fittings: </i>(1)None, bare and primitive. BYO rope/bucket/etc. <i>Water:</i> (7)Muddy puddle, but regular water that can be filtered. <i>What's Below:</i> (10) Complete dungeon complex. <i>Quick Contents:</i> (7) Haunted. <i>Well Features (roll three):</i> (94) long-forgotten laboratory, preserved brains & organs in jars; (74) Druid cult meets here, gods demand intruders be sacrificed; (7) hermit lives here in solitude to meditate. <br /><br />
----> The well shaft is haunted by the spirits of four adventurers who were sacrificed by the wicked Druids that live under the earth. They will try to warn any newcomers, though since they can only scream in madness and pain it's difficult. The Druids mistakenly believe what was once an ancient necromancer's laboratory to be a burial chamber filled with canopic jars. They are "the Brotherhood of Flesh and Blood" who believe that internal organs hold the secret power of the universe, which can be harvested from body parts preserved beyond death: thus they are tomb robbers with a holy purpose. They are seeking a sarcophagus in this "tomb" that doesn't exist. They are totally unaware that they have come in via the back way to a much larger dungeon complex, the only other living inhabitant of which is an elven philosopher who slipped in 100 years ago to write his masterpiece on Arcane Epistemology ("I cast, therefore I am") in perfect solitude.<br />
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<b>2. </b> <i>Shaft type:</i> (3)Sinkhole entering into possible cave complex/ancient remains. <i>Fittings:</i> (6)Wooden hut with rope winch and bucket. <i> Water:</i> (8) Swirling pool of churning, foaming water. <i> What's Below: </i>(3)Series of caves with 4 chambers. <i> Quick Contents:</i> (5) Humanoids & Demihumans. <i>Well Features (roll three):</i> (80) Tribal shaman with guardian & ancestral spirits lairs here, since his clan was destroyed long ago; (37) serial killers live here with collections of human skin and bones; (24) a secret cult shrine is here, possibly still in use, often cursed. May hold treasure.<br /><br />
-------> There was a complete dungeon complex here, once. It's caved in now, leaving only a small cave complex and a few caverns. A Wild Elf shaman is all that remains of the elves who once lived in these caves: since the destruction of his tribe he has meditated in solitude, save for the restless ghosts around him. He is indifferent to the small gang of Orcish skinwalkers (a depraved cult that captures men to make suits out of their hides, despised even by other orcs) lairing in the next cavern over, and they are afraid to approach him and the shrine he resides in. Even the Elf isn't totally sure as to the shrine's history, he senses deep evil from it. <br />
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<b>3.</b> <i>Shaft type:</i> (7)A shaft of neatly carved stone blocks, fitted with great precision. <i> Fittings: </i>(7) Crude stone shelter, with rope and bucket. <i>Water:</i> (3) An underground river. <i>What's below:</i> Series of caves with 3 chambers. <i>Quick Contents: </i>(8) Magic. <i>Well Features (roll six):</i> (3) Remains of animal bones and human sacrifices. (32) Hideout for thief gang, depositing loot & hiding members who are "hot." (98) A dragon that has slept since the Dawn Times; (71) Sorcerer's lair, also a drug den. Stoned followers seek thrills & enlightenment; (76) Summoner's lair. Animal cages lie about and mystical circles are carved into the stone floor. (96) A healing magical spring, hidden from the main water source; <br /><br />
---------> The sorcerer is the leader of the thief gang, a dozen underprivileged city youths who treat his cave as a place to crash and get high. The secret ingredient for the drugs (which the gang sells for the sorcerer as well as using themselves) is the saliva of the Dreaming Dragon. This translucently pale, wingless creature is archaic and more resembles an amphysbaena than a dragon. The summoner pays rent to the sorcerer, is secretly trying to awaken the Dragon following a legend it will sing the song that ends the world (he was unlucky in a relationship recently). There once was a cult that worshipped the dragon and performed sacrifices in its chamber, but the sorcerer chased them out (they lurk in the desert outside now--waiting their chance to kidnap one of the sorcerer's precious thief kids). The dragon's chamber is still piled with old bones of men and animals. None of these people have ever realized there is a healing spring in the back of the dragon's chamber (not bold enough to go that far back). Ambient magic about the place is so strong all casters are treated as +1 CL, all healing spells get an additional +1 result even if cast at max level.Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-38159266654036828162017-02-28T23:22:00.002-08:002017-03-01T00:19:28.273-08:00Religions for Eastwylde pt 2 - The Companions of BeatrixThe Companions of Beatrix are the brave men and women, mostly human, who joined the heroic wizardess in her quest to reseal the Giants 500 years ago. In their lifetime my campaign setting approximately mirrored the 11th Century (it currently resembles the mid-16th). Unless I am miscounting they are fourteen in number. My initial idea was to have a patron saint for every major Pathfinder class (Core Rulebook + Advanced Player's Guide + Complete Magic) and one for each core character race (Man, Ulf, Dorf, Numm, Hawbet, Orkykind). However, I forgot to include a saint for Witches, Oracles or Halflings---oh well. Let's assume the Cult of the Saints' official stance is Halflings are just small Men not truly a race apart, and don't require their own saint. And, for obvious reasons nobody likes Oracles <i>or</i> Witches. I also exclude Gunslingers (Ultimate Combat), Inquisitors (APG) and Monks as those classes didn't exist (at least not in the West) in Beatrix's day. I don't want to make an unweldy monster post (ha ha ha) so I'll start with the first four. <br />
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<b>Q: Are the Companions the most important Saints?</b> <br />
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A: Beatrix is certainly the most important saint, believed to have merged with the whole cosmos and become omniscient, omnipotent and omnibenevolent. St. Justin is approximate to St. George--his name is a byword for martial aspiration and courage and he's depicted all over in art and legend. From there, it gets complicated. There are countless saints, some so obscure they are no more than names buried in a musty register. Many are unknown outside of a certain locality, some are associated with a certain profession or a certain event, perhaps even a specific gate, bridge, mountain, etc. All of the companions have at least middling prominence due to their association with Beatrix but some have fallen out of favor or are no longer believed even to have existed.<br />
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<b>Q: How old is the Cult of Saints anyway? What was it like before Beatrix?</b><br />
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A: The Cult began with the idea that all gods are no more than aspects of a deeper Truth---that this divine spark resides in every person, every blade of grass, and fills all the known Planes of Existence. Saints however, are beings in whom this power shows greatly, who do great and wonderful things as an expression of its divine love. For the first few centuries of its existence it was a highly intellectual movement largely limited to the support of sages and scholars of the esoteric. In the waning age of the great Empire that once ruled over the West, the conversion of a certain Emperor led to the adoption of the Cult of Saints as the Empire's official creed. The many cults throughout the Empire's provinces (particularly the Druids, still strong across the North) were not interfered with, nor did official adoption cause a single hierarchy within the Cult to develop, for reasons that are complex and boring. The Cult instead continued to revolve around a decentralized conclave of urban Primarchs, in whose Temples the precious remains of Saints are kept. Older divinities, ancestors, genii loci etc. were occasionally assimilated as Saints, but until Beatrix the Cult never achieved fidelity from more than a third of the former Empire's peoples.<br />
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<b>The Companions</b><br />
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<b>St. Beatrix Paraclete, Queen of Heaven (NG female human wizardess)</b> - About Beatrix much has been said but scarcely enough can be written. As mentioned previously, depictions of Beatrix before her ascension as an embodiment of heavenly virtue and font of wisdom are less popular than humanizing portrayals which portray her as a vulnerable young woman who finds the courage to save the world. Of course, following her death-ascension Beatrix became more perfect than is possible to imagine.<br />
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<b>St. Justin Giantslayer (LG male human ranger? paladin?)</b> - Of Beatrix's companions St. Justin is nearly as famous as the Savior herself. He is considered both a patron and role-model by Rangers and Paladins, who fiercely contest which profession he belonged to. The history of the Rangers is tied up in the Return of the Giants, with their long watch ending in bitter defeat only for the Order to reconstitute itself in many places as a bulwark against many threats (hence why Rangers are "especially trained" against so many divers monsters and enemy kinds). For this reason, St. Justin is most often portrayed as a survivor of the shattered Rangers in dramatical retellings of the Return. A chance encounter with the lovely ingenue Beatrix restores his fighting spirit, etc. However it is the Paladins who have taken as a byname "The Order of St. Justin." Rangers, when they want to sound fancy, must content themselves with the much more specific St. Daffydd, patron of Those Who Fight With Two Swords (alternatively, St. Mark, the specific and less flashy patron saint of accurate shooting).<br />
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Hard facts about St. Justin are few--several cities and towns claim to be the place of his birth and a few noble families claim him in their extended lineage. There are fabulous tales such as him being raised a Ranger by the Elves, or that Northern Barbarians slew his family and he was raised in a Cult abbey. Fragments of his shivered sword, pieces of wood and nails from his shield, spurs from simple iron to ornate gold, a horse's skull, are all alleged for his relics. It is said his heart lies beneath Holger's pass but no Temple stands to attest it.<br />
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St. Justin is virtually always portrayed as a handsome but battle-scarred young man [when I showed my players a drawing of him they immediately called him Anakin Skywalker]. If appearing as a Paladin, he has a distinctive blue/orange diagonal stripe scheme on his long surcoat and massive kite shield (historical but technically anachronistic touches) wearing a suit of mail and wielding a knight's sword. If a Ranger, he wears humbler footman's steel and leather under a cloak of green or white (the Rangers originated in the frozen North after all) and carries sword and bow or two swords as the artist fancies. Justin fell in battle with Angrybors the Giant King of Storms, and their dramatic final duel is such a common art tableau that you can buy many depictions of it in just about any marketplace.<br />
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St. Justin's domains are War, Nobility and Animal. He is associated with the aforementioned Orders and those who fight monsters generally, plus woodsmen, war-horses, robins, and recovery from blunt trauma (many hospitals bear his name). His Feast Day is September 29, which is the day called Michaelmas. Paladin and Ranger associations often celebrate with processions and feasts.<br />
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<b>St. Casval the Ready (LG human fighter)</b> - While warriors of all stripes can and do pray to St. Justin, St. Casval represents the humble foot soldier more specifically. He is called "The Ready" because it is said he was a wise veteran who always watched the backs of the more impetuous Sts. Justin and Lionel the Lancer, always ready to strike out opportunistically with his long spear. In fact, as something of a running gag down generations of artists Casval is portrayed with a wild variety of anachronistic, often outlandish polearms such as the reverse-forked ranseur or the Oriental "tree of swords." Some don't even exist, such as the Double Ox-Tongued Mancatching Crow's Beak. He is usually portrayed as an older man with a distinguishing mustache.<br />
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Casval is one of the better-attested companions, as he actually survived the Battle of Holger's Pass. He retired with honor to the City of Fons, where he served as "Captain of the People" (essentially a militia commander) until his death some 40 years after Beatrix's ascension. He was declared a saint in his own lifetime. His tomb in the Great Plaza at Fons has been a pilgrimage hot spot for five centuries. Bizarrely(?) he left no memoir or personal account of the Queen of Heaven, at least none known. His home and effects are in the care of a chapter of Poor Sisters. His ash spear is on display in a glass case. Touching the glass will grant a +1 bonus on Attacks of Opportunity and Trip attempts for 24 hours. <br />
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St. Casval's domains are Earth, Community and Strength. He is associated with serjeants and militia bands, city walls, badgers, and the game of chess--it's said he painted a pawn on his shield, and his blessing goes to those who can elevate a pawn by moving it to an opponent's back row. <br />
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<b>St. Odion the Learned (LG human cleric)</b> - It may seem odd for the Cleric class to have its own particular patron saint. Nevertheless St. Odion is such and his life is well-attested: he survived Holger's pass, founded a monastic order and lived to be 100. No one did more to promulgate Beatrix's legend, or to make her the new "face" of the Cult of Saints. He wrote the very first hagiography of Beatrix, titled <i>A History of Beatrix Our Savior, the Wars on Our Earth and Beneath and in Heaven</i> (a laborious read, mostly circulated in abridged form).<br />
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In all accounts, St. Odion is Beatrix's confessor and spiritual guide. Some writers trying to reconcile sacred history with more sacriligious accounts of Our Sweet Savior present Beatrix as an amoral Wizardess who indeed learned a terrible ritual at the frozen feet of the Ice Father, until the wisdom of Odion put her on a more righteous path. In his <i>History</i> however, Odion wrote Beatrix was, "the embodiment of all that is sweet and well-meaning in Man's heart," and "so near to perfect she was fragrant of heaven." So don't look for nuance from him. Incidentally, bawdies and burlesques of the Companions portray him as an old letch always trying get a peek up Beatrix's skirt ("Father shall I kneel to pray?"/"Heavens child I'll not bar your way." "But Father I say the floor is cold."/"Come here child, a cloak I hold.")<br />
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In many ways Odion was a great reformer of the Cult. He did not give it a central hierarchy or disavow its pantheistic teachings but he did elevate the monastery from houses of prayer dependent on powerful patronage to powerful landowning "religious corporations" (or less ominously, "communities.") His Rule (the Odine Monks or "Grey Fathers") established the baseline for subsequent Rules and Orders to follow. Odion reified and encouraged many nascent traditions, such as mass public confessions and penances on Witsuntide and Michaelmas (whole communities expose their sins and perform acts of contrition together in the Cult). Odion came as close as anyone in the Cult ever has to calling other faiths wrong and dumb (such as his tract, <i>On Trees</i> which could well be titled "Stupid Druids, Trees Aren't God"). You can buy little figurines of Odion most anywhere (+1 CL to <i>Magic Circle Against Evil</i> with one as your divine focus). They always show him wagging his finger.<br />
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Odion is portrayed as a bent old man with twin flames of grey hair rising behind his bald pate, wearing a grey habit and carrying a gnarled staff. He is associated with monks (duh), parchment and vellum making, pigeons, students and schoolmasters. His bones/effects are scattered protecting many places, including his native city of Stellamont, the Royal Library of Pellegrine, his first monastery of Oxmort, and his tibia are in a chest somewhere at the bottom of the Trader's Sea (oops). Aside from the usual wound and disease curing miracles, praying in some place with his remains gives you a +2 to research rolls and for 48 hours, intimidation checks.<br />
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<b>Our Lady of Songs (CG elf? half elf? bard)</b> - The Lady is one of Beatrix's most mysterious and least well-attested companions, yet next to Beatrix herself perhaps the most commonly represented and evoked in word and image. She came from the Elven Lands yet beyond that, not even her name is known, or if she was fully or half Elven. St. Odion never mentioned her in his <i>History</i> (then again, he left out a lot--he was a man of narrow interests), nor is she mentioned in any firsthand accounts of the Return of the Giants. In modern times many of skeptical mind say she was invented by the Cult as a way to give the notoriously rambunctious Order of Bards a place in the Cult, and as an outreach to Elven converts (there are few, if any). Yet if she is only a fable, it seems to have sprung up quickly after Holger's pass---the first trouvere's song of the "Lady With the Lyre/Fall's Fire in Her Hair," who "made beasts weep and dragons bow," is attested only a few decades after. The various songs don't agree on her fate--some say at Holger's Pass she was "horribly crush't," others "return'd she to Elven Land/Where Time runs not and all is glad." Perhaps no other saint's relics sell so well: particularly locks of red hair, quite well preserved 500 years on, often hung from a lute's pegbox or twisted around an artist's brush.<br />
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Her devotees portray The Lady as an Elven woman with bright red hair holding a harp, lyre or psalter. If it is official cult art she is garbed in appropriately saintly gown and stola, but popular depictions clothe her to accent her loveliness, sometimes only in a shower of leaves. Wolves, lions or monsters are always tamely lying all around her. Often the device of a psalter and red maple leaf or rose serves as her representation. The Lady's domains are Charm, Liberation and Travel. In addition to Bards, Elves, elms and roses she is patroness of minstrels and the makers of instruments, crossroads, of many hills and woods, and young lovers.<br />
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Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-31252570618085506722017-02-27T22:18:00.000-08:002017-03-02T17:52:39.444-08:00What's in the Eastwylde pt 2 - In which I Torque About OrcsPrepare to pork on orc. So much orc, you will hork. Uncork these orcs!<br />
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<b>All About Orcs</b><br />
So literally the first question everyone has when considering orcs in Your Dungeonmaster's Precious Setting is, "is it morally justified to massacre a bunch of infant orcs?"<br />
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The answer is, of course, no, never, not even then, what are you retarded it's wrong to kill babies. It's also true that in my setting orcs were created by a primal act of murder, they literally have the evil of that deed stamped on their souls and they are twisted, despicable beings made of hate and bottomless anger. <i>It's still wrong to murder babies, you goons</i>. In fact, orcs are everything I just described and <i>also</i> ensouled beings with freedom of will (their creator hates them, he certainly doesn't care what they do). The universe is complicated and not about to make itself easy for your moral convenience. Except with dragons, I guess.<br />
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Here's the fucked thing with Orcs. If you were talking hypothetically with one, and you said "if I slaughtered your whole tribe and then came upon a bunch of your helpless infants, would it be acceptable within the bounds of war for me to slaughter them?" The orc would be like, "keep them alive so they stay fresh if you need rations, lol."<br />
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Yeah, orcs eat babies, mostly their own. Just like hogs. Actually cannibalism is quite common among them but for obvious reasons, <i>in extremis</i> the newborn are eaten first. Note that orcs don't eat each other for any spiritual reason (they do not have a mystical bent or care much for symbolism), but when food is scarce. Orcs are quite large (5' 8" to 6' 3" in a world where the average man is 5' 6"-5' 7") and have big muscles, obviously, so they need a protein-rich diet and they need a lot of it. They are omnivorous, of course and can get a little nutrition from just about anything, just like hogs. But still, meat is the thing.<br />
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Why are orcs green pig people? Because they sprang from the blood of the slain god Freyr, who was called <i>The Boar King</i>, you see. Incidentally, Freyr's wife Gerd was a Giantess and Storm Giants and Forest Giants (the tallest giant kindreds) are green so I don't know, possible connection there? Anyway. Freyr created the Elves, and so the Elves and Orcs are related in this way---the Elves call the Orcs their shadow, or distorted reflection, but then again Elves are vain. Gruumsh, the brother god of Freyr and his murderer, considers himself the "Father" of the orcs. The orcs believe they are ugly because Gruumsh was ugly and Gruumsh made them with his hate. Gruumsh hates his children: the Orcs believe that the moon is his watchful eye (the full moon being the time for worthy deeds), and the stars are the all the dead orcs. Gruumsh pinned them up in the sky and lit them on fire, because he hates them. Because they're ugly, like Gruumsh is ugly, and they remind him he could only create ugly things. Yes, Orcs consider themselves ugly and the Elves beautiful (in a sense they are the same race): braids of the Elves' lovely golden hair are quite a trophy if you can get it.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://i.imgur.com/TlG7inj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://i.imgur.com/TlG7inj.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">see what I mean? the Storm Giant's the green one</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://i.imgur.com/rRM0nCh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://i.imgur.com/rRM0nCh.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a Forest Giantess. I've been in love with this drawing for thirteen years, lol.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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What are orcs like? Orcs are often likened to boars or pigs and this is accurate, in the same way people are basically chimps with more complicated rituals. Orcs have jaw and cheekbone structure reminiscent of <i>suidae</i>, which gives them very wide mouths and big square chins; orcmen have tusks turning upwards and orcwives usually none but when they do the tusks turn outwards; both have fangs but otherwise normal teeth, though some have "outer teeth" pointed outwards from the gums like a pig's. Many orcs look very frightening and bestial, with their jaws filthy and open like the boars they venerate, but some are handsome in a Ron Perlman As The Beast kind of way.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://i.imgur.com/K5rUdiE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://i.imgur.com/K5rUdiE.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You see how thick that jawbone is and also how the teeth project forward? Yeah baby, yeah.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As I was writing, orcs are likened to pigs and this is accurate: they are totally ruthless and have a very based outlook. An orcwife will eat her children to survive and barely feel guilty. They shrink from doing almost nothing to stay alive and are frank about it. Their cooperation is almost wholly calculated, by nature they are loners and survivors. Sometimes rage overcomes ruthlessness, for all orcs are born with a well of bottomless hate and rage in their hearts. They learn to control it or it eventually consumes them. They actually have the same beauty standards as Men, and they find themselves ugly and hateful (as they are, and so they should). This is why all orc cultures venerate ritual scarification and flencing of skin (important orcs often have the whole skin of their chin or cheeks scraped away or peeled back with plugs or staples embedded): they are ugly and hateful (full of hate and fit to be hated) and find both release in pain (their pain tolerance is like a boar's) and enjoy making themselves ever more frightful. Sarcasm is a high sport among the pig people.<br />
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Speaking of sports, orcs play many martial and athletic games among
themselves. They are quite obsessed with games, as is common in
hunter-warrior societies where for long stretches of time there is not
much to do. These include javelin, shotput, darts, archery, climbing,
and complicated hypothetical arguments (an aspect of "bulling" as it's
called) such as "how would you hunt a pack of worgs," or "how would you
ambush a heavily armored force of Men" [sidebar, orcish has problems
with plurality so the singular "Man" is often ignored and the plural Men
always used, as in 'you are a Men, talk to this other Men for me."]
Orcs have long memories (like pigs) and to catch your opponent in an
argument up by bringing up some point from long before is considered a
masterful stroke. You may notice hurled weapons are popular with them:
it is a myth that orcs prefer to "best use" their natural strength by
wading into melee with a pair of battle-axes. Thrown weapons, recurved
bows and long spears are more prized, as orcs love the ambush and to
deliver the decisive stroke from surprise. "Fighting fair," goes their
oldest saying, "is for suckers (oink oink)." The glorification of single
combat is characteristic of cultures that possess heavy personal armor
and most orc societies through the centuries have lacked this.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TeoC0XvYHsPo8-J9ssdzzcGDeBkIKH9FNGKxX_zzgOZkEOrfiHcnPAVI46O5LDEhHDRecXO8Ov1H9hSOlsu1J3eUF4zwVlwQaV1x-q9OfJCDP_LPG8YPWEkN3hMiS4FqxWXOs779SUi-/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TeoC0XvYHsPo8-J9ssdzzcGDeBkIKH9FNGKxX_zzgOZkEOrfiHcnPAVI46O5LDEhHDRecXO8Ov1H9hSOlsu1J3eUF4zwVlwQaV1x-q9OfJCDP_LPG8YPWEkN3hMiS4FqxWXOs779SUi-/s320/001.jpg" width="156" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is a drawing of one of my orc NPCs (never did finish it) The lamella are woodbark and the upper armor is cured hide. A weasel pelt acts as an overbelt. Various pieces of metal form a kind of scapular which along with possession of a metal sword and dagger marks this orcwife as an important warrior.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Most orcs wear carefully prepared skin or clothing of bark. The time consuming manufacture of these is of course the domain of orcwives: but if an orcman can best survive by excelling at womens' work and if an orcwife wants to kill (who doesn't?) then it's a whatever. All orcs, however, love to decorate. Again, this is a culture of hunters who often have long stretches with nothing to do, so in addition to cutting on themselves in artistic ways they fashion braids and decorations of bone, horn, fur and feather---think Leatherstocking Goes Hellraiser and you get the idea. Orcs are very good at grinding bone and shell together and then making it a paste they can mold into plates or pipeclay for ever more elaborate and creative decoration. These decorations are another reason close combat is largely scorned by them.<br />
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If I am making orcs sound too cute or domestic remember these are people who will throw a knife at your head because their sliced-up skin is really irritating them that day, or murder and eat a close friend with the <i>sang-freud</i> of a pig. All orcs have the rage and the ruthlessness, like two devils pulling them in opposite directions. A lot of what I have said may be overreaching: orcs (and pigs!) can and do know love and loyalty but it is not praised among them. But, as to their skin: it is true orcs don't sweat and wallow in mud to keep cool and ease their irritation, and why they do poorly in meridian climes. A kind of backhanded blessing from their creator Gruumsh is that where many orcs live for a while, deep pits of mud will "bloom." Men call these corruptures and note accurately that orcs ruin the land wherever they settle (like pigs!). This is also why orcs encountered in the dungeon have pit traps around them, that's actually a weaponized bathing area (if they were expecting you). The sunlight does indeed burn orcs' skin and sting their eyes and the mud and darkness are their refuge (hence they settle in dense wood and caves, rarely staying in open country). Orcs go about with exposed skin totally covered in mud (save for where it's flensed, probably) giving them a yellow, reddish, brown or white cast depending on local clay (their natural skin colors are green, ash-grey and rarely bruise purple or white). This also improves their smell, and they frequently mix fragrant herbs, pine needles etc. into their skin ointments to smell better (they don't actually like stank anymore than humans do though some unwisely take it as a competition to see who can stink up a cave the most).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOFdX1et3BZJzuVmcPg2usjUlssfj2nbzxl6HqzlEjoTQPOUMiwLFWqsmU8CSjm0Q4Nu7eZoqkTp0mdwJUl-EbUBCsR0aU4Sq6XoZd0KbCFZFqmTz_QEiMBbyywUuAD1muafaC4pyUhht/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOFdX1et3BZJzuVmcPg2usjUlssfj2nbzxl6HqzlEjoTQPOUMiwLFWqsmU8CSjm0Q4Nu7eZoqkTp0mdwJUl-EbUBCsR0aU4Sq6XoZd0KbCFZFqmTz_QEiMBbyywUuAD1muafaC4pyUhht/s320/001.jpg" width="210" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another orc NPC's portrait. Note the mix of leather, wood and bone and how armor and weapons blend into decoration</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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A common saying of men is, "boars and bats are the allies of orcs," and while not totally true (animals are not magically smart in my setting), they are the most frequently chosen companions of orc rangers, hunters and druids. Boars accompany orcs to war and hunt just as dogs accompany Men but, of course, they are not so selflessly loyal. Bats of course frequently carry disease through no fault of their own (interestingly in real life they had a heraldic association with physicians/medicine, at least in Islamic Spain) and orcs who live near (many cultivate) batcaves will pick up these diseases and so become even more hideous and threatening to Player Character intruders. Guano bombs and fungal alchemy provide traps for orc lairs.<br />
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As I mentioned, orcs, Men and Elves all have basically the same standard of beauty within a broad range (because Orcs are just a twisted version of Elves, of course): although orcs are usually extravagantly hideous and proud of it, some are attractive enough you might want to settle down and make a baby with them. Half-Orcs are often born from violence but also sometimes because mixed communities of wild men and seminomadic orcs form, especially up north (where the orcs are called "tamed" and now have many apparatuses of civilization). Because of the orcs' gloomy and violent outlook on basically everything (they like to say the stars are the souls of the departed burning in agony, they will always find a reason why what you're doing is pointless and dumb and you're doing it wrong anyway, schadenfreude and sarcasm is their cultural heritage etc.) such unions can be difficult unless the Men becomes Orclike or the Orc becomes Menlike (both are possible--orcs are ensouled beings with free will and capable of change, probably). The way of this generally is to encourage Bulling, which is the Orc art of conversation and includes complex hypotheticals, anecdotes and lore. Bulling is definitely the most positive social behavior Orcs engage in and you could with time probably make an orc upbeat (dare we say pleasant?) by encouraging her or him to Bull more. Some Orcs and Half-Orcs are born among humans and are almost totally human in personality, just a person with bad skin and a bad temper. The reverse is probably also true, orcs will (out of indifference/laziness) accept anyone into their band who is self-reliant and can Bull (and understands that cannibalism is nothing personal).<br />
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More about Bulling: an interesting fact about Orcs is that they do not use chairs save for the very human-influenced tribes. Thus Orcs have perfected the squat from earliest youth and can spend hours squatting on their haunches without straining a muscle. Orcs on guard duty or waiting nearby a trap will squat and bull in that position for hours, or attend to some craft such as carving a bat from a wood block or making a new wristband. Despite their violent tempers they can display an incredible patience at this, sometimes lurking by their trap and sitting and muttering for a day or more. Thus it is orcs encountered at random in some dungeon chamber could have been there for many days with nothing more to amuse themselves than decoration or deep thoughts ("is eating until you burst the best way to die?") <br />
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Tolkien already gave us a perfectly good naming scheme for Orcs so I go with something that's heavy on the snapping and buzzing sounds (Gazarak, Rakku, etc.) or I go with Akkadian with the ending vowel replaced with a Black Speech-y noise (like take the word Inannu and make it Enank) or something from Mesopotamian mythology (like the monster Humbaba, which made the name Hun-Ba-Kil). Or, if it's hard to remember a bunch of made up noises, I translate the name (ex. of Orc NPCs in my game: Rotten-Axe, Topknot, Tall Pole, Prettygirl, Big'un, Bad Shot, Milk).<br />
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If this all sounds too ordinary and dull and close to real human cultures (although it isn't and I can't think of any like this), consider orcs as basically prime henchman material (the idea of them losing their infravision is dumb, btw--they totally keep the predator vision but they have to be immersed in total darkness for it to work). Your Chaotic fighter can totally get a bunch of orcs to follow him but consider my orcs A) are not dumb axe-wielding guys in fur diapers named Zog, B) are laconic but also argument-loving petty assholes C) are often fuckable if you can see past the whole mutilated green beastgirl thing, and they're probably much more fun to have around. My players have like three orc henchmen now and they love the terse gloomy motherfuckers.Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-6572055604133926772017-02-26T14:00:00.001-08:002017-02-26T14:00:20.966-08:00Religions for Eastwylde Setting pt 1<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-47df77e8-7c3c-2f30-e8e7-17c4620ffb7e" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Cult of the Saints - </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">By far the biggest faith among western humans. Decentralized clergy centered around temples in major cities, which are run by a Primarch. Each temple has its satellite shrines, whose priests are called Rectors. Each shrine has the remains or artifacts of a certain saint, and most bear that saint’s name. Additionally there are abbeys and monasteries, which are centers of prayer (and powerful land-owning organizations). There are innumerable saints, but only a handful are widely known. Saints are understood as persons or beings who manifest the ineffable divine, a kind of universal Godhead. As representatives of that power, they are invoked and prayed to. </span></div>
<br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The saint of saints of course is St. Beatrix, the savior of the world. Almost all the temples bear her name (“The Temple of St. Beatrix Triumphant,” or “The Temple of St. Beatrix Ascendant,” for example). Beatrix’s domains are magic, protection and good. She is the particular patroness of wizards, the city of Limmodes (where she was born), of books and libraries, of oak trees (she carried an oaken staff), lensecrafters and other things. Her birthday is January 3 but for various reasons her Feast Day is July 5 (both are holidays). </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>The Life of Beatrix</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Although she now reigns as the Queen of Heaven, Beatrix of Breciliande* was born a perfectly normal human baby girl, to a modestly successful physician and his alewife spouse. The townhouse in the city of Limmodes where she was born is now a carefully preserved historical site. Tours are conducted by a minor order of Poor Sisters between nine and four five days a week. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*yes she was a Breton basically</span><b> </b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There are countless folktales and fables now surrounding Beatrix's childhood wherein she displays heavenly wisdom and insight. These are all apocryphal. Historians carefully interviewed those who knew her in her mortal lifetime. According to the Masters of the Wizards' School at Ranblys, she was a talented but unexceptional student from the ages of 14 to 21. <br /><br />It was after her graduation that Beatrix's life took an exceptional turn. At that time the Northern Orcs were unbowed and untamed, and periodically spilled out of their tundra to menace the domains of Man. Beatrix took part in the First Northern Crusade against the orcs and other monsters. She drifted among several of the many adventurer bands then going north but took part in many great deeds: slaying the White Wyrm of Icewall Keep, putting an end to Petroblastus the Mad Alchemist, and other adventures. By 30 she was an accomplished Master Wizardess. <br /><br />It is said but repudiated in official histories that Beatrix traveled to the furthest north, to the Sea of Ice where she met the demigod lich called The Ice Father, and studied under him for a time. Those proscribed accounts say this is where she first learned of the Ritual of Nine Seals, a pathway of ascending to godhood.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Then the Giants returned, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhql53pX7so" target="_blank">and everything changed.</a></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Banished beneath the earth millennia ago by the gods, the kindreds of the Giants of Frost, Fire, Stone and Storm burst their bonds through the sorcerous power of their kings, who it's said made pact with the very Forces of Hell. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">For thousands of years the Order of Rangers had held a watch from northern mountains, begun by the elves and passed on to men, for the return of the Giants. Their charge was to oppose the earth's once-masters. They failed. Everywhere the armies of giantkind emerged, smashing all who opposed them. Other enemies of the gods once driven to dark places--dragons, dark elves--joined the march. Cities were ground to dust and kingdoms collapsed. Man and his allies retreated to scattered bastions as monsters shook the earth.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In those dark days Beatrix gathered a band of heroes around herself who would all become saints in their own right. [Sidebar: official Cult history is that she did the gathering, but in many versions she was one of the gathered and not initially in anywise the leader of the band. Still, they're known to history as "The Companions of Beatrix" so whatever]. Foremost among these was St. Justin, known to history as The Giantslayer. Some say he was a survivor of the fallen Rangers, others a Paladin (official Cult history says both but nobody believes that; the Paladins have taken to calling themselves "the Order of St. Justin" anyway). The number of her companions is controversal; aside from St. Justin and a few well-attested others, several are considered fictional. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Regardless of how many of this Fellowship really existed or ever knew Beatrix, what is clear is she and her band of heroes were a light in the darkness, driving back Giants and bringing hope to Men and their allies. Under the auspices of the remaining Kings of Men and Elves, Beatrix led her companions on a quest to many far-flung places and deep beneath the earth, even to the Sunken World and the dominions of Hell. They quested for nine seals, powerful arcane devices that united in an ancient ritual could banish the Giants once again. [Sidebar: some say the purpose of the Nine Seal Ritual is to banish bad things from the earth; a small number of iconoclasts argue it's actually a means of drawing the souls from thousands of living beings at once to boost the caster to godlike heights of power. Yes there are a few Chris Hitchens types who argue Beatrix was a supervillain, lol.] </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The eleventh hour came at a place called Holger's Pass, where the last kings of Men and Elves made a final stand against an all-out attack, even as Beatrix and the remaining Archmagi began the Ritual of Nine Seals. Laufi, King of the Frost Giants and Angyrbor, King of the Storm Giants and Wytelsex the most massive red dragon ever seen, rampaged over the Armies of Man. St. Justin and many of the Companions were martyred in this battle. [Sidebar: Angyrbor, Laufi and Wytelsex are so infamously remembered from these days that they are known as "the three demons" and are a popular subject in artwork, usually depicted as battling St. Justin or some number of the Companions]. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In virtually every variant of the story, of course, Beatrix completes the ritual just as the Giants breach the very citadel and all seems lost. In any case all accounts agree that as she completed the spell (which involved conjuring and sealing nine Archdemons in walls of nine elements pure and mixed--earth, fire, wind, water, dust, slime, ice, steam and magma), Beatrix realized the power would not be enough without one final sacrifice and poured her very essence into the spell, dying as it were, but in the same instant ascending. So great was the power of the spell that the caster's consciousness spread over the whole cosmos, becoming one with the ineffable godhead. Thus did Beatrix "wed the godhead," or "wed the universe," as is sometimes said. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">During Beatrix's lifetime 500 years ago, the Cult of the Saints was just one among many competing and irreconcilable faiths among the Men of the West. It was large to be sure, as the Cult had been adopted as the state religion towards the ened of the Imperial Age, but didn't have the lion's share compared to many old and strong cults of divers gods, much less the Druid faith. Of course, all chronicles and histories state that Beatrix was a faithful observant of The Saints, although a few scoffers in scholastic circles have noted Wizards end not to be overly pious. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Through her death/ascension however, Beatrix gave the Cult of Saints a total ascension of its own, over the hearts and minds of The West. She gave them something they had been lacking: a popular, humanizing figure to take as the symbol of the faith, a narrative around which to hang all the high-minded cosmogony. Beatrix loved all the world, even you poor sinners. She suffered death so that mankind in its darkest hour would see another day. Beatrix is us: she could be your mother, your daughter. And she joined with the One Who is All, in recorded history, before witnesses.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As a literary character, Beatrix has been interpreted and depicted in many ways. In terms of visual art a particular 'look' has become traditional: that of a dark-haired maiden hooded in blue, holding a staff and spellbook in her hands, eyes closed in serenity with a faint smile on her lovely face. However many details about Beatrix's life and person are up for speculation. There is a popular tradition in one region, for example, that Beatrix's spectacles are retained at one Fons Abbey, a powerful relic associated with miracles. The more learned protest that spectacles did not exist in Beatrix's day <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_optics#Lenses_and_lensmaking" target="_blank">(rather a halved glass orb held in the hand was used)</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Perhaps the most contentious of all is that many versions of Beatrix's legend speak of a love between her and St. Justin Giantslayer. Many poems and chronicles relate that they devoted their hearts to one another as totally as they dedicated their lives to saving the world. This romantic tradition is dear to many who believe in Courtly Love. Others however insist on the point that Beatrix died a virgin--that she left this world a pure woman with soul dedicated only to heaven. Dramatizations and retellings of Beatrix and her companions are a whole genre unto themselves and range from the reverential to the burlesque. For dramatical and no doubt sexist reasons, Beatrix is often played as the vulnerable naif who comes into her own through St. Justin's love (of course, several critics have pointed out the prominence of St. Justin seems almost more of a sop to macho types who don't want to pray to a girl, but whatever). Versions where Beatrix has quasidivine wisdom and perfect moral clarity exist but are far less popular outside the pulpit and schoolroom. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Most of the small details about Beatrix and her story probably never will out. It is true there are some powerful clerics who have the power to speak directly to Those Above and ask questions of the Godhead itself. They tend to get the answers they presupposed and inevitably there are conflicting "divine truths." </span>Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-76969099633432155472017-02-26T12:41:00.000-08:002017-02-26T12:41:36.048-08:00I'm not going to chronicle my Eastwylde campaign on this blogI think after all, it was a mistake to start talking about my Actual Game on this blog. I want to use it instead for a more general kind of rumination on D&D or RPGs, and broader creative impulses or ideas that don't fit within my campaign per se. I think my game is pretty good, or at least the people who have stuck with it after a year are having fun. I may make a second blog just for a campaign chronicle, although there are some difficulties in that I am a very shitty record-keeper.<br />
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That said I don't mind talking about stuff pertaining to the Eastwylde setting. It started life as a deliberately genericized Pathfinder campaign but has grown organically as the players chose to interact with certain elements over others and assumptions, on-the-spot exposition/decisions etc. piled up. So now I have copious notes on fairy kindreds and history, orc tribes and religion, and the tangled doings of local baronial families and mercenary companies, because these are the elements my players chose to explore (examples of things they ignored: Ruins of an evil Druid civilization, subterranean worlds, rumors of the restless dead). <br />
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So watch this space. <br />
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Oh yeah so, last session, I tried doing my version of <a href="http://www.lastgaspgrimoire.com/arts-crafts-morbidly-encumbered-edition/" target="_blank">Last Gasp's arts and crafts-y encumbrance minigame</a>. My idea was basically to literally draw the modes of conveyance my players were using and then have them physically place objects representing tools and supplies on those diagrams. I thought, what could be simpler? Here we'll have everything laid out in immediately understandable form, as you'll be able to literally SEE how burdened your characters/packbeasts/hirelings are. <br />
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Here are the drawings I made, in fact:<br />
<br />Backpack (& waterskin):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWDfWG7sUd-SSKw9KpBXBO0iLVhE3Si_IkiQ5S4ouPO1VUd9OyMZ5_QT-vb9-HiG0-TtLcbBrl3B3Sy6iXHxoumtP8qvyaiOyNaFEqJWj3N3OMQmKM4S77H9V3ixrRpWatqMKBuuuIu4su/s1600/003.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWDfWG7sUd-SSKw9KpBXBO0iLVhE3Si_IkiQ5S4ouPO1VUd9OyMZ5_QT-vb9-HiG0-TtLcbBrl3B3Sy6iXHxoumtP8qvyaiOyNaFEqJWj3N3OMQmKM4S77H9V3ixrRpWatqMKBuuuIu4su/s320/003.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Light horse:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWUikuJAsxNKaFvstBkoLBE0wb8lqwKRK0qfbsvIzDDXVbNaIjkcL8Qnsp2Gjx2RvoM0GCHk8CdYzDw5EOPqRV4tXg-o9tPft7ktPW_A5tnhekKxlnl4w86nwGPr-WuAQoyT0RK6ojJOV/s1600/002.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWUikuJAsxNKaFvstBkoLBE0wb8lqwKRK0qfbsvIzDDXVbNaIjkcL8Qnsp2Gjx2RvoM0GCHk8CdYzDw5EOPqRV4tXg-o9tPft7ktPW_A5tnhekKxlnl4w86nwGPr-WuAQoyT0RK6ojJOV/s320/002.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Donkey (went unused as players do not have any donkeys presently):<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRm0edCCk_3piA-BaJLf2E501rMuLTfpKvYtC24Rnp-A3kqJgZ6y-CfEs5eNt5Kriq8-4Ma7nLqlVEdiphMml2tvUfXsvcQV9nZ5MDoGe2FvbgyBKtNLCiVTm87zpv4yghA76aFSP0QnN/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRm0edCCk_3piA-BaJLf2E501rMuLTfpKvYtC24Rnp-A3kqJgZ6y-CfEs5eNt5Kriq8-4Ma7nLqlVEdiphMml2tvUfXsvcQV9nZ5MDoGe2FvbgyBKtNLCiVTm87zpv4yghA76aFSP0QnN/s320/001.jpg" width="232" /></a><br />
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Note that I didn't have time to include portraits of the two mounts that the Cavalier and Paladin are using (a war-bull and a heavy war horse)---which, honestly, shouldn't even matter because trying to treat a warbeast like a pack mule is stupid but hey what do I care, these assholes don't even remember to take their animals' armor off after a long march poor things are probably dying of chafery. <br />
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Anyway, the idea was this: a quarter stands for an object (a roll of torches, a lamp, a mapcase, a spade, whatever) and one quarter equals one of the larger squares (six for the backpack, eight for Mule saddlebags, 16 for Light Horse saddlebags). In addition to quarters there are dimes, which represent either food (a pint of grain probably) or a pint of water (as much as you need in one day). Notice the waterskins hold two dimes, and additionally you can put two dimes in any of the larger squares. Since you need to eat and drink, effectively you burn through two dimes a day. If you use more than half the big squares (five for the Donkey, nine for the Horse, four for yourself) you are encumbered and lose overland speed and your animals are treated as carrying a medium load. If all the squares are used, it's a heavy load. <br />
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<strike>Not perfect, maybe not too well thought out, but I thought it would be a simple way to make encumbrance MATTER in my game which is all I want. I KNOW THEY'RE NOT KEEPING TRACK OF THEIR RATIONS THE RUNNY LITTLE FUCKS anyway. Sadly what actually happened was this: I laid out sheets for the eight light horses the party is using and a backpack for every PC and NPC, and the space needed took up the entire table. There was no room for it. Also nobody put any coins on their sheet or used it at all; I just dropped it and started the game. ACTUALLY YOU KNOW WHAT this is a dodge my players use all the goddamn time is they chatter until I have to drop whatever brilliant idea I raised at the start just to get the fucking game going WELL NOT NEXT TIME SONNY JIM I am going to bring a half liter of malt whiskey and I am going to sit back and cross my legs and drink it and watch Buffalo Bills highlights on my phone until THEY come to ME </strike>less angry version: it turned out to be unworkable but next time I will work out a better version. Maybe with tokens? <br />
Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-10930457762743160922017-02-20T10:37:00.000-08:002017-02-20T11:10:02.848-08:00I have strong feelings about names, emotional problemsNames should mean something. I hate, hate-hate-hate, more than anything else about Pathfinder's dumbness, the profusion of meaningless Star Wars names that pop up everywhere in Golarion. Let me grab one out of Kingmaker, at random. "Jhod Khavken." What the fuck is that? Okay I didn't pick it at random that's literally one of my least favorite names ever. First off, I hate the English way of pronouncing J. Take Spanish or Nordic, but what's this "juh" sound? Feel that tingle behind your teeth when you make that noise? I hate that. Then that impact on the roof of your mouth with the "duh." Both of those in close proximity are sort of unpleasant. "Jod." Stupid name. You know who had a nose for stupid names? <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oo8CrY_ZfFk" target="_blank">George Carlin</a>. Maybe because George, with its two "juhs" in close proximity, isn't a great name. I mean, it's a respectable name---obviously, it means "Farmer" and its most famous bearer is the knight of knights, yadda yadda, but I will never love it (although Greek Iorges and Russian Yuri are good). Anyway George Carlin had it right---names that end in "duh" sound stupid. "HI, I'M TODD." Todd. Todd. Jod. Jod.* At least words like "justice" and "Jor-El" give you a little breather after the Juh. SHUT UP I'M NOT DONE. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Genuine apologies to anyone named Todd or Rod reading this. It's not personal. Especially to New York Jets head coach Todd Bowles. Sorry about your 2016 season. </span><br />
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Kavken." What even is that? Is that supposed to be like, etymologically related to Kraken? Cah-vuh (as in "Popol Vuh" or "Varoom") -ken. Seriously? You know what I love about Tudor England? Like literally everybody was named Tom or John. You need a name? John Thomas, literally, just like, look at that John Thomas over there, ambling down Drury Lane. I need to name an NPC? Tom Jons. Jon Toms. Tall Jon. Strong Jon. Bald Thomas. You know what you get when you name a random-ass NPC Bald Thomas? An immediate connection to a real culture that exists, a sense of place and of the kind of traditions this place has. You know at once there's a lot of Toms around so this guy is differentiated by the kind of unflattering nickname peasant mums are always flinging around. You do the same thing in Spanish, by the way. Everybody is called for their worst trait. The guy with the saggy chest is Chichis. The guy with thin eyes is Chino. So-on.<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Obviously, Paizo, I'm not asking you name your questgiving NPC Chino Jones (but what about "Elf Jones?" In a world where short, wiry elves with big anime eyes and pointy ears are a thing maybe small-framed guys get called Elf, Elfy, The Old Elfer, IDK). You know what's a good NPC name? Baldersnatch. It's like "balderdash" but sounds bold, and grabby (he baldly grabs). You'd reflexively tighten your fingers on your coin pouch the second your DM says "the guy running this place is a round geezer named Baldersnatch." Okay, here's a better example: Rumpelstiltzkin. Come on, that's a name that tells at once you this guy is dowdy (rumpled), maybe awkward (stilted), but with a name that long and complicated he can't just be dismissed. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Give people a name like that, a name that has a <i>sound</i>. A name that has character. What the fuck is the character of Jhod Kavken? Is he from Mos Eisley Spaceport? At least Star Wars was doing a thing with, like, Obi-Wan Kenobi. That dude has a deliberately weird kinda oriental sounding name so you instantly know, after being introduced to the Skywalkers and the Darklighters, that Old Ben's Really Not From Around Here. Jhod. Jhod. Jehod. God. I hate that name. And like I said, someone at Paizo is really in love with soft noises like "juh" and "sh," and just awkwardly mashing consonants that shouldn't go together together like "vuhhk" or "sht" (you think that swear exists because it's just a naturally unpleasant pairing of sounds? Like "ffk?" I may be on to something there). It makes a lot of their dumb fantasy names viscerally unpleasant to read (oddly enough, the word "viscera" is kind of pleasant. Just say that to yourself, "viscera, viscera, viscera.") Should I make a list of consonants that pair well and ones that are dissonant? Like "puh-luh" (pleasant, please) "puh-ruh" (pretty, prim), versus, well, "duh-suh" (dis, dys). </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Should I even post this or am I giving myself away as insane? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">e: I TRIED TO FIX THE FONT SIZE AND IT WON'T FIX. I WILL FIND JOHN BLOGGER OWNER OF BLOGGER LTD. AND I WILL KILL HIM </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />ee: Look at Tolkien, he knows what he's talking about. "Ainur" and "Noldor" are pleasant sounding, almost soothing words. "Grishnakh" is not pretty to any sensibility. It's what we caricature middle eastern language as sounding like---durka, durka. "Cavendish" is a very unpleasant, soggy name although it does force the lips apart at the sides as if one were speaking around a pipe, interestingly. Also here's a name that's totally an exception to my rule about unpleasant noises: Jerjerod (as in, the Grand Moff). Lots of Js, ends in Duh, sounds a little ineffectual but of noble bearing (you've got a "rod" in there like kings wield, the kingly color red, I dunno).<br />
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eee: <i>Just</i> is an ugly word and rightly so. It is an interjection ("<i>Just</i>----") and a <i>harsh</i> (hsh) thing, whereas I think we can agree it is more pleasant but not quite as exacting to be <i>fair</i> as opposed to <i>just</i>. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </span>Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-1578986691216409082017-02-20T10:00:00.001-08:002017-02-20T10:00:33.680-08:00Names<b>Names of Saints<br /></b>St. Emertius, St. Euphemius, St. Evander, St. Elfhelm, St. Llaws, St. Lloys, St. Rhondice, St. Cappestan, St. Angel, St. Meir, St. True, St. Hollyhelm, St. Lizard, St. Loreleis, St. Albagar, St. Albundegus, St. Ambrosio, St. Wine, St. Music, St. Orelice, St. Fulkestan, St. Bastantius, St. Pruelice, St. Jodelice, St. Josclyn, St. Ross, St. Rosalmer, St. Palmer, St. Markflorice, St. Pranstantius, St. Effervescia, St. Efectual<br />
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<b>Names of Farms<br /></b>In normal conversation you usually drop the "farm." Like, nobody says, "I'm looking for Green Valley Farm," just, "I'm looking for Green Valley." <br /><b><br /></b>Litchfield farm. Green Valley Farm. Rolling Green Country Farm. Pleasantview Farm. Luckless Field Farm. Lonely Field Farm. Leprechaun's Farm (not run by a leprechaun, everyone just calls it that). Hidden View Farm. Corpsrikker Farm. Stoneybroke Farm. Elephant's Farm. Patched Banner Farm. Goodwinter Farm. Burned Field Farm. Smoking Hill Farm. Farm of the Famous Rapist (a merely historical episode). Swelterfield Farm. Dropped Drake Farm. Pottery Barn Farm (did you know ancient clay sherds make excellent composting material?) Wooly Woods Farm. Longacre Farm. Acrewood Farm. Mark's Hart Farm. Jodelsynger Farm. The High Farm. Overlook Acres. Green Acres. Waystone Standing Farm. Prentice Llaw's Farm (Prentice Llaws has been dead 100 years). Swathecutter Stream Farm. Mashed Acres. Dustswallow Farm. Wurstenwurster Farm. Brewer's Field. Circular Acres. Holy Road Acres. Mere Acres. Many-Acres Farm (consists of three acres). Rockpile Acres (famous for its mysterious stacked stones, piled by bored shepherds 1,000 years ago). Lookout Acres. Whichwaycres. Whocres. Cramped Crooked Acres. Kingsweed Stand. Highthistle. Yellowclay. Bitterbrook. Patched Earth. <br />
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<b>Names of Local Beasts </b>(Peasants are always giving names to the local Thing Out In The Woods That's Killing Them) <br /><b><br /></b>The Careless Beast. The Loomer. The Stumper. The Precious Horn. Smellymouth. Moleslayer. Turnip. The Sweet Screecher. Little Big-Blow. Spiderfriend. Peeling Petey. Freshclods. Clogstomper. Lamplighter. Puddle-Look. Turn-in-the-Rows. The Hay-Fish. Thrice Threshed. Hands-Me-Down (walks on hands, attacks with feet). Everytooth. The Handsome Man. Maresnatcher. Head-of-Thyme. The Garlic Thief. Between-the-Boards. Roofhiker. Eye of the Dawn (a pretentious legend). Roaming Betty. The Forest Crab (peasants have insane notions like, crabs are huge and have six claws and giant mouths and race over the land on high legs. Responsible scholars know crabs have three claws at most and rarely grow bigger than a child). <br />
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<b>Names of Neighborhoods<br /></b>Orcsrest. The Bog. The Gallows. The Looms. Fairy's Gate. Swallowtail Hill. The Reeks. Shaker's Place. Vinegar Way. Pay-Me-Later Street. Lover's Lane (PDAs strictly not allowed). Glasstown. Fireball Street. Cartbreaker Cobbles. Lost Horse Lane. Planksroad. Maypole Winter Abbey. Shrine Street. Blusterwind Bowles. Gathers Street. Carding Cane Gardens. The Rookeries. Pigeonhole Place. Sunkhouse Look. Dormice Town. No-Beggars-Here (full of beggars and a frequently-raided wishing well). The Sighs. Double-End Street. Bell-Bottle Circle. Cherry Court. Eggbasket Alley. Lost Spice Lane. Roadshoulder. The Boulders. Mallard Court. Fulminating Stews Place. <br />
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<b>Names of Princesses (or at least Ladies)</b><br />
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Note that I like the German pronunciation so read names ending in "e" as ending in "uh." However read a name ending in "ce" as in "advance." Read names ending in a double-e as ending with "y." A C followed by an e should be read as a soft C. V should be pronounced "W" or W as "V" unless it follows a consonant in which case "B." So basically I'm not consistent at all if I want to use an English or German reading. Just sound it out and go with what's best.<br /><b><br /></b>Fulminee. Charmine. Cureen. Leminee. Variance. Aldbalde. Avfulde. Drebdys. Creminy. Caring. Aldys. Guangshivre. Meredith. Blungwyldys. Orcrine. Peresmeneen. Perisnalde. Aptmenyn. Aspys. Currant. Hoargaldvys. Geldgertys. Archruthyne. Foringoldys. Prumenny. Petal. Dylicht. Ermine. Baring. Atlantys. Terecynce. Eminentia. Advantia. Godsgyft. Riddynce. Hulmine. Clyming. Aldrudys. <br />
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I hate Pathfinder's names. Someone at Paizo has a real thing for slavic-sounding soft noises like "ish," "isht," "vsh," and it makes my teeth itch reading that shit. <br />
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Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364700857774405622.post-18168114799392499702017-02-20T02:38:00.001-08:002017-02-20T02:38:25.816-08:00Things are going wellWe just had the 24th session of my Eastwylde campaign for Pathfinder. Some of you may remember that big enormous document I posted before wisely taking it down, all about my projected plans for thesession. Most of it was never got to, as the group found negotiating with Bandit Lord Jack to be diverting enough for nearly half a session. The whole session took place over about three hours in-game time. Huge success, everybody that wanted got something to do. Much fun was had and I'm sitting pretty with a detailed sketch of events to fill next session. Things are going very well in the game right now. Happy players makes a happy DM.Stitch Seamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02493128814546844907noreply@blogger.com0