Saturday Night Sandbox

Stop SOPA and PIPA. It's important!

2012-01-18T09:27:00.000-08:00

Obviously if you're on the internet, you've heard about these things a lot. I'm not planning on doing anything particularly flashy here, I'm just gonna give my opinion.

The problem with these pieces of legislation is that they're vaguely worded and draconian, allowing for arbitrary enforcement based on how much political pull can be applied. They would make running a website rather like playing Russian Roulette, especially for smaller operations that don't have the money or manpower to chase down every link that might contain infringing material.

The enforcement of this act also abrogates due process, and tramples on a site host's constitutional 1st. Amendment rights.

The classic definition of censorship is making it illegal to say something. Making it prohibitively expensive, or making your message impossible to reach, is just as insidious a form of censorship, and it allows those in authority the cover of technically not making the message itself illegal. SOPA and PIPA are built to allow just that sort of abuse.

I exhort my fellow Americans to contact their Senators and Congresspeople. If you go to Wikipedia today and type in your zip code, you'll get contact info for your representatives. I got my reps' phone numbers and called them all, and left messages assuring them that if they vote YES on these bills, they will NOT be receiving my vote in the next electoral cycle.

And finally, while I hope that public outcry will force the sponsors of these bills to back down, bear in mind that this will at best be a temporary victory. The film and music industry have deep pockets, and until the current old guard in positions of power in those industries have been replaced by generations who've grown up with the web and understand its potential, SOPA & PIPA will reappear in some new form. Stay informed, stay vigilant, and VOTE.

Thanks.

The Siege of Bridgefair

2012-01-15T18:28:00.000-08:00

So yesterday I had the opportunity to join my old gaming cronies Paul and Delta in an awesome game of Delta's magnum opus, Book of War.

Whenever there's a city in one of Paul's campaigns, sooner or later somebody's gonna want to come and wreck it, as evidenced in 2010's disastrous defense of Restenford. This time around it was an undead army, aiming for the walled city of Bridgefair. Our forces were Paul's excellent selection of eeny meeny 10mm minis from Pendraken Miniatures.

About five members of Paul's gaming group at his job were playing the defenders, so I threw in with Delta and Paul on the side of the attackers. I also served as the session photographer.

I was given a unit of skeleton archers, a unit of skeleton fighters, a unit of zombies, and a siege tower, and formed kind of a detachment from the main force. My big role in the fight was tying up the Bridgefairies' heavy cav, and keeping them off our main force and our necromancer. I managed to get my siege tower up to the wall too, which was cool.

In the end, the dead guys lost big time, being ground down from a massive wave of animated bodies to just one disgruntled necromancer, who vanished in a puff of formaldehyde vowing revenge. A greatly reduced force on the side of the living lived to fight another day.

Hooray!

As usual, Delta's rules play like a charm, and we got in 15 turns in about 3.5 - 4 hours. I'll leave it up to Delta and Paul to give a better play by play, because I was really too busy taking photos to commit the events to memory.

Paul has posted his in depth account of the fracas here.

Delta's report is here. Read them! Experience them!

Thanks for running a great battle, guys!

D&D V

2012-01-13T09:00:00.000-08:00

This is what I think.

And neither do you, when it comes to what I think about it, probably.

On a related side note, though, you could market the ka-rap out of "D&D V". Just that assembly of letters could yield countless awesome visual statements. Like have a gigantic V with a dragon wedged in it or something. It's like a big box full of birthday presents for any graphic designer upon who's desk it may land...

So it at least has that going for it.

Lords of Light!

2012-01-08T19:32:00.000-08:00

I just thought I'd take a moment to mention that Thundarr the Barbarian rocks on toast. And not just any toast, but artisan* baked multigrain toast simultaneously sliced & toasted by Thundarr's mighty Sun Sword.

My brother gave me a bunch of Hanna Barbara classics DVD's for Christmas, and Thundarr is the gem of the group. I thought it was awesome when I was eight, but it continues to be awesome when I'm about to turn forty, which is quite a feat for a cartoon show.

It's got some pretty sophisticated concepts for a kid's cartoon show of its vintage, and Robert Ridgely's always kinda pissed off delivery for Thundarr is a gift that keeps on giving (plus he's got some awesome lines).

All the Jack Kirby designs for the various mutants, monsters, wizards, and war machines make for a very distinctive look. (Although Thundarr, Ariel, and Ookla were all designed by Alex Toth.)

This obviously isn't really big news for any old school gamer types who came up in the 80's, but I am enjoying the heck out of it, and it makes me want to do something Gamma World-esque very badly. The series is pretty much just an animated version of the Platonic ideal of a GW campaign.

So check it out.

* On the subject of "artisan" foodstuffs, I'm not sure I buy this particular bit of marketing nomenclature. Are we to presume that artisan bread was forged by a breadsmith? I dunno.

New Race/Class: Primusaurs

2012-01-08T17:01:00.000-08:00

These civilized saurians hail from the vast, verdant valley of Gwangitopia, where they are ruled by the fearsome yet benevolent Megasaurus Rex from his mighty fortress atop the volcano known as Mount Krong.

Primusaur society is in many ways quite similar to that of ancient human cultures, and thus there are among them more adventurous souls who strike out to make their fortune as mercenaries and dungeon delvers, rather than spend their life on a capybara ranch or giant termite plantation.

REQUIREMENT: Con 9, Str 12
PRIME REQUISITES: Con & Str
Hit Dice: d12

ABILITIES:
Primusaurs can range between five to seven feet tall, and weigh between 250 to 500 pounds. They resemble small tyrannosaurs, but walk in an upright posture with their tails dragging behind them. Their forelimbs are small and weak, while their legs are large and powerfully muscled. They possess thumbs on all four limbs, using their arms for delicate tasks and their legs for lifting heavy weights, as long as they don't have to walk anywhere with their load.

They are capable of delivering a bite for 1d6 damage, or a kick with a hind leg for 1d8. This latter attack can only be made every other round, as they need to recover their balance in the intervening round. Primusaurs can wield one handed weapons, or use a spear one handed with a -1 to hit, but cannot use two handed swords, pole arms, or any kind of bow except crossbows, which due to being aimed one handed also suffer a -1 to hit.

Their skin is leathery, and ranges in color from yellow green to dark brown. It provides a natural Armor Class of 7. Primusaurs can wear any armor, and can use shields.

These creatures are possessed of an amazing ability to regrow lost extremities, even a severed head may be regrown thanks to a secondary brain situated above their hips that retains their memories.

It takes a Primusaur 30 days minus their Level to regrow limbs and tail, and 50 days to regrow a lost head. This ability is independent of their Hit Points, but can be accelerated by 10 days with a Cure Serious Wounds spell.

A Primusaur with a severed head is blind, deaf, cannot communicate, and cannot eat until their new head starts budding about ten days later. While this fast goes on, they cannot heal naturally, and they will be mindlessly ravenous when their new head grows back for 1d4 days. Most Primusaur adventurers set up a special code of taps and touches so they can recognize and be assisted by allies should they be rendered headless.

Veteran Primusaur warriors often have one or two of their own heads on display in their trophy alcove. Tarkasaur the Implacable, a near legendary figure among his people, was said to possess seven of these grisly trophies, kept in a place of honor among the heads of a multitude of other foes.

Primusaurs are exothermic, and if they are exposed to cold conditions (below 50º Farenheit), they move as if they are under one higher level of encumbrance. If they are at maximum encumbrance, they go torpid and are unable to move.

Their eyes change color to reflect their mood, with red indicating anger, yellow fear, green a neutral mood, and blue indicating satisfaction or serenity. They cannot control this color change, and thus suffer +2 to reaction checks if they are attempting to lie or deceive. They possess infravision out to 60'.

Males possess a small, blunt horn on the tip of their nose, and females tend to be smaller and lighter in build. Primusaurs lay eggs to reproduce, and these eggs can be kept dormant in cold storage for up to 20 years. Their diet is omnivorous, but they favor meat and insects.

Primusaur culture is at once barbarous and refined. They adorn themselves in richly colored cloaks and harnesses and torques of gold and copper, and collect the severed heads and skulls of their foes as trophies. (They consider it a point of honor to retrieve their own lost heads or limbs, which they keep to be placed their funeral pyre upon their death.)

They are capable of terrible outbursts of extreme violence, but are known to wax lyrical at scenes of natural beauty, and are earnest patrons of music, song, and poetry. They duel to the point of dismemberment over matters of honor, but are gentle, loyal, and caring to those they consider their friends.

Primusaurs are mortal enemies of the troglodytes, and consider it their duty to slay them. They are ambivalent toward lizard folk, and can get along if the marsh dwelling reptile men are highly enough evolved to make treaties and honor bargains. Savage lizard folk are generally avoided if possible, or slain if not.

Primusaurs possess parrot like vocal chords that allow them to speak Common with a thick accent. Their own language sounds like a collection of grunts, rumbles, and roars, and a lot of the phonemes are subsonic. They can speak the language of troglodytes and lizard folk, and those with intelligence over 14 may speak Draconic.

Upon reaching 9th. level, a Primusaur may seek a grant from their ruler to establish a fortress, preferably in a lush jungle valley or atop an active volcano, which he will rule as a Dinolord. This community will attract other Primusaur warriors and their clans to come live under its skull festooned banner. Primusaurs favor large caves and ancient lava tunnels for their lairs, with creche rooms for their eggs in the deepest, warmest parts of the complex.

Primusaurs use the dwarf tables for combat, level advancement, and saving throws.

This class is hereby designated as Open Game Content via the Open Game License.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T08:19:00.000-08:00

And many happy returns, no matter how far you travel.

An Experiment in AWESOME!

2011-11-13T20:15:00.000-08:00

Truly, this was awesome sauce!

Well, anybody who's been lurking about the Old School Blog scene has probably heard of the interesting potential of using Google+ for online gaming, so a small group of my rowdy friends from our former Thursday Night group of yore got together over the aether to play for a completely groovy several hours this Sunday afternoon. Our GM was the redoubtable Paul, whom I've missed gaming with, and our lineup included the mighty Delta, Mr. H, and Mr. K, for whom I'll say ditto.

The group was composed of myself playing a dextrous yet dim thief by the name of Billy the Weasel, with a magic user named Mercurious, a heavily armored dwarf named Garick, and a less heavily armored dwarf who favored pike and crossbow known as Ulric Battleborn.

We'd heard tell of an old ruined watchtower outside of town that was reputed to have a fabulous treasure buried in a deep sub-basement below it. No one who'd gone there had come back alive, but the lure of loot is an irresistible call to a bunch such as us, so up the hill we went.

Next to the crumbling tower was a huge old oak tree, so we decided to check it out. We found a hole in the side that indeed led to a set of stairs that lead down into a hidden chamber. After sending Ulric down to scout with a rope tied about his waist, the rest of us followed, with Garick being forced to remove his armor and wriggle thru the hole before re-girding himself on the other side.

The underground chamber was musty and full of fungus. Most notably, there was a ring of large mushrooms, several of which bore odd brass sculptures of gnomes atop their caps. Not wanting to touch something that was potentially a ring of magickal faerie planted Claymore mines, we searched the room, and found a kobold cowering in a closet.

Thankfully, our doughty dwarf friends spoke fluent Chihuahua, and so we interrogated the little twerp, who's name was Blark. Seems he was posted there to watch the gnome statues. A small tribe of kobolds very much wanted to steal them and sell them to a nearby tribe of orcs, but whenever they did the statues would uncannily vanish and reappear on their mushroom by the following morning. Thus the orcs were ready to go all "caveat venditor" on them and the little creeps were trying to figure out what was going on.

We bought Blark's services for a silver piece, and we prevailed upon him to grab a statue and put it in Billy's bag. After that, he led us deeper into the underground cellar to the room where the rest of his tribe was hanging out, sketching Wile E Coyote type plans on the wall for retrieving the gnome statues.

We decided amongst ourselves to try to con the kobolds, so we started lying like cheap rugs, telling them that we'd figured out the secret of taking the statues without them vanishing, and would trade said secret for either money (which they had little of beyond some copper pieces) or information. Since copper is more suited to settling bar tabs or weighing down doilies, we went for info, grilling them about the orc tribe and also about what might lie down a door and an archway we passed on the way to the kobold's brass gnome theft workshop.

They informed us that down one entry was giant spiders, and down the other was huge, kobold eating bats. Regarding the orcs they told us that the savage goons would trade stolen cattle for the gnome statues, and that if we shouted "bree yark" they wouldn't attack us.

This latter bit was total bullcrap, so we didn't feel so bad (as if we'd felt any guilt before hand) about telling them that the secret to keeping the statues was to go into the woods outside of town and gathering some three leaved shrubs with white berries and eating a big handful of them, then waiting a day and eating some more. They sent four of their number off questing for the "magic herb" and we secured the services of Blark and another kobold named Glurk as guides for the price of another silver piece.

After parting company with the kobolds in the midst of an argument between Blark and his chief over whether he was allowed to cut subcontracting deals independent of the kobolds' HR dept, we made our way down the entry that they'd informed us had giant bats.

Sure enough, they were right about those. We found a large, guano carpeted chamber and our two little native guides were snatched up and gnawed by about a half dozen gigantic chiroptera while a multitude of their smaller bretheren fluttered about the ceiling.

A furious battle ensued, with Garick holding strong in the door while the rest of us fired crossbows, spears, daggers, and a Magic Missile into the space. Eventually, we killed all the big bats with our heavy duty dwarf taking a few slashes to the face. We retrieved the splattered kobold's daggers for Mercurio to throw and checked out the space.

There were two archways and a small door leading out of the chamber. To the West we found a sloping corridor with a big pool of dried blood that flowed down a nearby set of stairs leading down. At the far end of that corridor, we found a pair of sinister looking black gargoyle statues with upraised palms, before which were two putrid piles of severed hands.

Wanting no part of this, we went back and checked the other archway, which led to a platform that branched south to a hallway and a set of spiral stairs that went both down and up, and north to a large room that seemed to be a ruined library. In this room there was an unidentifiable rhinoceros sized carcass that was buzzing with flies, including several specimens that were gigantic and which swarmed out at us as soon as they sensed our torches.

We battled three giant, biting flies. They were biting so hard that we decided to have Mercurio cast his Sleep spell and put them out of our misery. We coup de graced the buzzing monsters and scampered away from the grody library space before more of them could sense us and attack.

We took the stairs down, and found an area totally choked with huge, sticky spiderwebs. We tossed some oil and lit them, which released a couple of ogres that were bound up in cocoons of webbing. They charged us, so in a panic Billy threw the brass gnome that we'd pinched from the mushroom room, nailing the big goon right in the face. (HAH!)

Still, this was pretty strong meat for us to face with our resources depleted (we'd taken some bad bites from the giant flies, and Mercurio was tapped out on spells.) so we decided to beat feet before we got pummeled to death. We turned and ran, dumping oil and tossing MY lantern down the spiral stairs to discourage pursuit. We made it out of the catacombs relatively unscathed, and headed back to town to regroup and re-equip ourselves.

We headed for the tavern to brag about going to the tower and coming back alive. While we were there, we decided to hire some extra hands. Mercurio decided that cheaper than hiring henchmen, he could use Charm Person to make some fast friends who'd help us out of the bonds of ersatz cameraderie.

He found a couple of likely suckers... er... subjects in a big burly bloke arm-wrestling with a big fat guy. He put down a silver on the fat guy and lost, when the big guy, who styled himself Govannan the Boar Killer, won the contest and sealed his fate. Drawing him aside with a tale of having treasure to guard and being willing to hire him, Mercurio led Govannan to the stables and cast his spell, emerging with a new bestest buddy in the world who'd be happy to join us for free, no questions asked (at least until about a week or so passed and he got a save).

After three days of taking it easy and buying new supplies and gear to replace what we'd lost, we headed back to the tower, this time deciding to take the entrance to the tower itself rather than try to squeeze thru the hole in the tree which required our heavy weapons guy Garick to disarmor himself.

We worked our way downward, and found a room flooded to the ankles in honey that seemed to be dripping from the ceiling, which in combination with the sound of loud, angry buzzing from a nearby room seemed to imply that there was a hive of giant bees about someplace. We made our way across the deliciously decorated space and found a room beyond where a bunch of honey covered boots had been set aside, presumably by the orcs we knew were somewhere down below. After a bit of debate, we decided to make like the inhabitants of the place and remove our shoes as well.

We passed a room with a ceiling bulging down from above as if it was ready to collapse, where we spotted a glinting bit of silver jewelry in one corner. After some deliberation, we were about to press on, but Billy's Int of 5 proved too difficult to resist and I had him army crawl his way across the floor toward the bracelet.

I guess my dim witted rogue wasn't as low to the ground as he needed to be, because he bumped the semi-caved in timbers and caused a section of ceiling to collapse on me, doing me a fair bit of damage and pinning me to the floor. Ulric took pity on me and slung a loop of rope out on his 10' pole, snagging my ankle and allowing the party to drag my sorry carcass out from under the collapsed beam, doing me a fair bit more damage but getting me out alive.

After I'd dusted myself off and took a swig from our handy jug of cleric in a bottle, we found a set of steep, kinda treacherous spiral stairs leading downward, with a knotted rope secured near the top to an iron ring. After the usual dungeon delver's paranoid searching for some kinda trap with the rope, we descended.

(Pardon if that section's inaccurate or vague, it was around this time I needed to go downstairs in my awesome lair to make a bit of dinner for myself, so my guy was running on hench mode.)

Sadly, the steps were a bit tricky for Garick's stubby legs, and he slipped and went rolling down the stairs like a pachinko ball to crash in a heap at a door at the bottom. The rest of us joined him at the bottom and set him back on his feet, and he proceeded to check the door for traps and give it a listen.

He heard the sound of heavy breathing on the other side, so we decided to kick in the door and go in swinging. We found a bunch of orcs laying in ambush on the other side, doubtless alerted to our presence by all the racket we'd been making on the upper floors, punctuated by a hurtling dwarf in armor colliding with their front door.

As we battled them, a bunch of other doors down the hallway flew open and more orcs came rushing out. While Garick and Billy fought the ones in the first room and Ulric and Govannan held the others off, Mercurious cast his sleep spell, which put all but one of the orcs and a couple party members down for a little nap. The lone remaining orc turned tail and ran off, while we set about putting his buddies out of everybody's misery permanent like.

We searched the room and found a chest of gold, and then decided to knock off for the night and send the characters back to town.

All told, this worked really well, and I'm enthusiastic about future excursions in cyberspatial gaming. I need to get a better way to map. I was pingponging between this online whiteboard thing that Paul pointed us to and Adobe Illustrator. I think next time I'm just gonna go with good old fashioned graph paper and just hold it up to the camera if folks need to see it.

Otherwise, this was awesome! Thanks guys, both to Paul for running, and to the others for making it a great session. We gotta do this again!

Here's Paul's account, btw ftw.

And here's another take from the fabulous Delta!

New Labyrinth Lord (Cursed) Magic Item: The Red Gauntlets of Argack

2011-11-05T21:07:00.000-07:00

Once there was a vile warlock who whilst skilled in the dark craft was known for not thinking things entirely through.

Said sorceror, who styled himself Argack the Maledictator, fell afoul of the doughty Handsman known as Pugnacious Phil Potluck, and many of his sinister schemes ended ignobly, beneath the pummeling fists and clog stepping hobnails of the brawny adventurer.

Running out of both patience and teeth, the doer of dire deeds crafted a magical set of gauntlets designed to engulf the heroic brawler's very life in ruin, madness, and misery.

The Red Gauntlets of Argack at first blush could be mistaken for Gauntlets of Ogre Power. Once donned, the wearer is compelled to start punching things. Friends, foes, furniture, foodstuffs, farm animals, all find themselves faced by a frenzy of furious fists. The unfortunate wearer of the gauntlets is fully aware and rational, but can not... stop... punching... things.

They will continue to punch until they are slain, fall unconscious from exhaustion, or are restrained. If the victim is bound, the cursed gloves will compel them to try to break free, bestowing an effective Strength bonus of +3.

Some tellers of tales state that Pugnacious Phil escaped from the Gauntlets by directing their fury at himself, allowing his comrades precious time to remove and discard the accursed handwear. (And gaining the dubious distinction among those of his calling as the only Handsman who had ever beaten himself up.)

A Remove Curse spell is the only way to otherwise get the Gauntlets off of their hapless wearer.

The Gauntlets do 1d4 points of damage + the wearer's Strength Bonus, and attack twice in a round.

The villainous Argack's greatest, and final, mistake was remaining in the same room to gloat after inflicting the accursed Gauntlets on his hated enemy.

His perfectly flattened skull is on display in the museum of curios in Castle Rygar.

These magic items are hereby designated as Open Game Content via the Open Game License.

Mua ha ha haaaaa

2011-10-31T08:47:00.001-07:00

Creatures of the Crypt

2011-10-30T19:44:00.000-07:00

The following are some of the horrors encountered in the Crypt of Nine Dooms by characters in my Halloween Creepy Crawl.

GRINDEYLOWS

Number Encountered: 1d4
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 90 (30) Swim 120 (40)
Armor Class: 7
Hit dice: 2
Attacks: Claw/Claw/Bite or by Weapon
Damage: 1d3/1d3/1d4
Save: F2
Morale: 5
Horde: XIII

The grindeylow are dark, shriveled, frog like creatures that dwell anyplace pools of rancid water collect in old crypts or catacombs. While they mostly scavenge for their supper, they're quite willing to ambush the unwary and drag them down to their doom. While generally content to use their teeth that bite and claws that catch, they will occasionally make a weapon out of an old bit of wrought iron or a stout tree root, if they think it can help them get a taste of the sweet blood of those who go about in the sun.

Three times a day, a grindeylow may make a gaze attack with their large luminous eyes, blinding victims who fail a Save vs. Paralysis. The light of the sun in turn blinds them, and daylight will drive them into the safety of the dark deeps. Strange glows from still pools in the depths of the earth can be a warning that these creatures are afoot.

BONE MONKEYS

Number Encountered: 1d4
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120(40)
Armor Class: 7 or AC of Victim
Hit dice: 1
Attacks: Bite 1d4, Poison Sting
Damage: 1d4. Save vs. Poison or Die
Save: H2
Morale: 9
Horde: None, but often found near type XVI

A horrible little undead construct, bone monkeys are carnival gaffs gone monstrously awry. They take the form of an animate monkey skeleton with a long tail tipped with the fanged skull of a poisonous snake, which they use like a scorpion's sting. Mad wizards and sinister mountebanks will often hide these creatures among their collections of specimens and obscure curios as guardians of their dark secrets. Their small size allows them to secret themselves almost anywhere. The method for binding a bone monkey to one's will is an obscure rite known only to a select few necromancers and carnies.

Bone monkeys are capable of remaining perfectly still until its time to spring. When a group of victims draws near, they will spring forth and grab hold of one of them, clinging tenaciously to the flailing unfortunate and stinging all those within reach with its tail. While a victim is grasped, the bone monkey shares their Armor Class, and half of the damage done to the creature is passed on to their hapless "mount". They will not let go until all those around their victim are dead, at which point they will sting them as well, and then return to their hiding place.

These monsters are hereby designated as Open Game Content via the Open Game License.

New Labyrinth Lord Magic Item: The Belt of the Acrobattlers

2011-10-19T13:32:00.000-07:00

This Legendary item from the island nation of Acrobania summons Awesome Forces to the wearer in times of great need.

It takes the form of a wide, white belt adorned with an octagonal buckle device bearing the likeness of a figure wearing a bat winged cloak and black mask with tiny red garnets for eyes.

If the wearer is of Lawful alignment, then once per day they may press a hidden button on the belt's buckle and summon a mighty quintet of 10th. level Handsmen, who will fight on their behalf for 1d4 turns.

When the belt is activated, the garnets on the figure's eyes will begin to flash, and will continue to do so for the duration of the effect.

If any of the Acrobattlers fall in battle, they all will vanish and cannot be summoned again for 1 month.

Once the battle is over, the mighty handsmen will give their summoner a celebratory High Five and then disappear.

Here are the heroes that the belt summons:

THE COMMANDER
HP: 50, HD: 10, AC: 4, DMG: 1d10 punch
Morale: 12, Saves as a 10th. Lvl Dwarf
Clobber: 1-10 on a d20, Knock foe out for 1d4 turns
May cast Charm Person 1/day, Immune to Fear effects

CRASH
HP: 70, HD: 10, AC: 4, DMG: 1d10 punch
Morale: 10, Saves as 10th. Lvl Dwarf
Clobber: 1-10 on a d20, Knock out foe for 1d4 turns
May hurl boulders for 3d6 dmg at 100' range

THE ROBOT
HP: 50 HD: 10, AC: 4, DMG: 1d10 punch
Morale: 8, Saves as 10th. Lvl Dwarf
Clobber: 1-10 on a d20, Knock out foe for 1d4 turns
May launch fist as ranged attack, Range 40/60/80

RICKY
HP: 50, HD:10, AC: 4, Dmg: 1d10 punch
Morale: 8, Saves as 10th. Lvl Dwarf
Clobber: 1-10 on a d20, Knock out foe for 1d4 turns
May cast Haste on self 1/day.

EAGLEBONES FALCONHAWK
HP: 40 HD: 10, AC: 4, DMG: 1d10 punch
Morale: 10, Saves as a 10th. Lvl Dwarf
Clobber: 1-10 on a d20, Knock out foe for 1d4 turns
May cast a 4d6 lightning bolt 1/day.
Invisible Hawk familiar; HP: 4, AC: 8, Save: F1, Morale 7, Dmg: 1d4, Fly: 480'(160')

This magic item is hereby designated as Open Game Content via the Open Game License.

CREEPY CRAWL 2011

2011-10-18T18:33:00.001-07:00

So this past Saturday I hosted my third annual Creepy (Dungeon) Crawl in my awesome chamber of gaming. I got four awesome players, and we played for somewhere around 9-10 hours, with a total of three incursions into the horrendous Crypt of Nine Dooms.

Here's the death toll:

Party 1

1 Homanculous level drained by a wraith and finished off by being burned alive in flaming oil/web spell conflagration.

1 Dampyr level drained then gnawed on by giant rats then finished off by his own severed, vengeful, uh... crotch...(It was damn funny but I need to tweak my creepy critical tables a bit...)

1 Grimling Henchman level drained by wraith and burned to death in flaming web spell.
(Flaming web spells were a popular attraction, although this was the same one that got the Homanculous.)

1 Guard dog gnawed to death by giant rats.

Party 2

1 Magic User nearly frozen to death by Kerrictus the Coldwight, then strangled by his own severed, vengeful hand.

1 Cleric flash frozen and zombified by Kerrictus the Coldwight.

1 Henchman Thief lost a leg in flamethrower trap

1 Henchman Fighter lost leg to flaming sword of Blazarkus the Burning Bones.

Party 3

1 Henchman Fighter nearly strangled by his own vengeful guts before finished off by scythe wielding skeleton.

Here's the monster pelts that the PC's collected:

5 Masters of the Crypt defeated:
Rambokk the Requitor
Blazarkus the Burning Bones
Argrim the Iron Wolf
Kerrictus the Coldwight
The Crow Knight

7 Giant Rats
1 Wraith
2.5 Grindeylows
4 Dire Wolves
12 Skeletons
1 Bonemonkey

Plus:
6 Ghouls circumvented by spiking their chambers shut.
1 Green Slime forgotten by GM and thus avoided.

I'd have to say the play of the night was the inimitable Mr. S's stunt wherein' his magic user poured unlit oil onto the edge of a spiked pit, causing an already perforated Crypt Master who was climbing out to lose his grip and fall back into it to his doom.

Stay tuned for more aspects of the terrible Crypt to be revealed...

Hey! Lookit what I got in the mail today!

2011-10-11T14:37:00.001-07:00

Proudly endorsed by myself and a rabble of undead horrors!

We command you to go forth and obtain a copy for yourself, right here!

Who Are the Nine Masters of the Crypt?

2011-10-09T21:10:00.000-07:00

Fear them...

The Creepy Crawl approaches...

Painting Bee at Paul's

2011-10-01T18:40:00.000-07:00

Well, as is our occasional wont to do, a bunch of us got together to hang out and paint miniatures this weekend at my buddy Paul's new place. Mini painting with friends is a great way to hang out, and I recommend it highly to anybody who appreciates the craft.

I was also pleased to get three done today, which is more than I've painted in a dog's age.

This dude was kitbashed from a bunch of Warhammer Imperial troop and Chaos Marauder bits, with some Mordheim equipment thrown in too. He's a general purpose PC fighter type, who can also do duty as a heavy duty henchman as well. He'd been sitting on my "paint me" shelf for too long, I figured he was due.

This sinister fellow is a Reaper mini, whom I've dubbed the Crow Knight. He may turn up in this year's Creepy Crawl.

Finally, we've got this half-orc barbarienne, also a Reaper, whom I have dubbed Bunny due to her nice wooly Ugg boots. Green orcs and half orcs bore me beyond tears, so I decided to give her some frost giant in her heritage instead. Paul was painting a bunch of 10mm figs and she made a pretty convincing giantess next to the little (littler) guys.

So a fine time was had by all and I finally got around to painting some of the little bastards who've been staring resentfully from my yet to be painted shelf for months. Hooray!

Ladies, gentlemen, and gelatinous cubes...

2011-09-02T20:35:00.000-07:00

I give you, apropos to nothing...

THE FUNNY VOICE CHART:
(Roll d20)
01 Rootin' Tootin' Cowboy
02 Scurvy Pirate
03 Midwestern Deadpan
04 French Canadian Fur Trapper
05 Scottish (Roll again if you are playing a dwarf character. Seriously...)
06 Kung Fu Movie
07 1930's Gangster
08 South of the Border Bandito
09 Sergeant Major
10 Like… Beatnik
11 Deep Southern Drawl
12 Mid Atlantic Fancypants
13 1960's Eastern Bloc Spy
14 Mister Gumby
15 Upper Class Twit of the Year
16 Tom Waits
17 Professor Strangelove
18 Swami
19 Scandinavian Chef
20 Sings instead of Speaks

Make sure to use its awesome power wisely. I've come close to destroying myself and some of my closest friends with these accents...

New Labyrinth Lord Magic Items: The Wing Cloaks of Kagaku Ninpo

2011-08-28T14:06:00.000-07:00

Created in a time of strife by the Great Wizard Namboo to defend the peace loving people of his homeland, these five magical cloaks have a long and storied history as mighty tools in the hands of Lawful forces.

Each cloak is patterned after a type of bird, with a scalloped edge cut to resemble a bird's wing and a hood that forms into a sort of stylized beaked helmet resembling the head of the avian it represents. At a word of command they can magically shift to appear as rather nondescript traveling cloaks with garishly striped linings.

All of the cloaks allow the wearer to make leaps of up to 20' vertically or over a distance of 50'. They are also enchanted to bestow a +2 bonus to Armor Class and Saving throws in the manner of a Cloak of Protection.

In addition, each cloak bears unique requirements for use and each carries a unique weapon secreted in special pockets in the "wingtips".

The Cloak of the Eagle
This bright, white cloak will only function if the wearer is Lawful. It comes equipped with a razor edged, crescent shaped boomerang made to look like a stylized bird, which does 1d6 damage, has a range of 10/20/30, and returns to the users hand after each throw.

The Cloak of the Condor
This brooding, black cloak allows its wearer to declare a favored enemy, granting a +2 to hit and damage against them. Its hem is lined with 8 throwing darts that do 1d4 dmg, can be thrown at a range of 15/30/45, and which replenish once per day. There is also a 50' line with a collapsible grapple hidden in the right wingtip.

The Cloak of the Swan
This elegant, snowy white cloak will only function for female wearers. It comes with a spinning disk weapon attached to a 30' length of line that does 1d4 on impact and can be commanded to explode for 2d6 points of fire damage once per day. It can be commanded to return after each throw.

The Cloak of the Sparrow
This tiny, dark blue cloak is sized for halflings, and can only be used by them. Each wingtip contains a bolo with a range of 15/30/45 that can be used to either trip and immobilize a fleeing foe or disarm them. A missed throw with this weapon will return to the user.

The Cloak of the Horned Owl
This large, green cloak is wearable by anyone with a Strength over 12. The wingtips are weighted and do 1d6 damage on impact. (The user may make two attacks per round)

Whirlwind Attack
When all five cloaks are brought together, the users may summon and control a whirlwind similar to that of a djinni, 10' wide at it's base, 20' wide at its apex and 70' high, which does 2d6 pts to all that it contacts and throws creatures of 2hd or less 10' if they fail a save vs. death. This attack lasts for 5 rounds and can be done once a day.

These magic items are hereby designated as Open Game Content via the Open Game License.

New Labyrinth Lord Monster/Class: Dweomon and Dweomon Master

2011-08-21T19:54:00.001-07:00

The Arch Mage Quercus is viewed by historians and seers of the mystic arts as both a surpassing genius and a complete and utter maniac.

He was fascinated with finding a relationship between the forces of magic and the very spark of life, and in his studies he made great strides in the development of magical life forms such as homunculi, golems, and in the pseudo-life exhibited by creatures of the elemental planes.

It is said in the accounts of those who knew him that he was also a great proponent of the preservation of knowledge, having lived through the sacking of the Archive of Azure in his days as an apprentice. The accumulation and protection of magical information was one of the overarching goals of his life.

He was known to often speak of finding some way to make magical knowledge capable of fending for itself, without being consigned to fragile paper or brittle clay or stone.

In his twilight years as a Professor of Thaumaturgy at the Vermilion College, these two obsessions came together in a great magical experiment that resulted in Professor Quercus' passing from this mortal plane, along with most of the structures and inhabitants of the College's Zoological Garden, leaving behind a completely new form of magical life in the smoking, sparkling rubble.

These creatures would come to be known as Living Spells, the Dweomon.

Dweomon

No. Enc: Lvl 1-3: 1d8/Lvl 4-6: 1d4/Lvl 7-9: 1
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: Lvl 1-3: 60' (20')/ Lvl 4-6 90'(30')/ Lvl 7-9 120' (40')
Armor Class: Lvl 1-3: 8/ Lvl 4-6: 6/ Lvl 7-9: 4
Hit Dice: Spell Level of Spell Embodied
Attacks: Bite
Damage: Lvl 1-3: 1d4/Lvl 4-6: 1d6/Lvl 7-9: 1d10
Save: As Magic User of their HD
Morale: Lvl 1-3: 4/Lvl 4-6: 6/Lvl 7-9: 8
Hoard Class: None

A Dweomon is, simply put, a spell given the form of a living animal. They live and breathe, move about in the fashion of their kind, sleep when tired, fight when cornered, and eat when hungry.

This last function they do quite voraciously and without much discernment, being perfectly happy to feast on animal, vegetable, or mineral matter. As the creatures age, they develop preferences for food, generally depending on what type of creature they resemble. Sometimes, they develop a taste for the exotic, like eating gold or musical instruments or books of poems. Dweomon of all types relish gemstones, and also many find spellbooks a surpassing delicacy.

Some are intelligent enough to learn to speak, although most exhibit animal intelligence at best. Regardless, they all seem to show a high level of self awareness and cleverness.

From nose to rump they may range from a foot long in the smallest, weakest specimens, to nine feet long for the very largest and most powerful types. A good rule of thumb seems to be about a foot in length per level of spell they embody. Weight varies greatly based on form, and the closest equivalent natural life form is a good baseline to estimate from.

Their form and appearance ranges up and down the branches of the great tree of life, from insectoid to birdlike to mammalian to humanoid, with many combinations of multiple types possible as well. They exhibit a wide range of colors and patterns, many not found in any form of natural life.

A Dweomon may cast the spell it embodies once per day, after which it must have a full night's sleep and consume its weight in food before it may do so again. They may gain additional castings if they consume a gemstone of 50 gp per spell level in value.

Dweomon Creation

To create a type of Dweomon, roll randomly on the magic user/elf spell tables using a d12 to determine what spell it embodies. Then take one set of dice (d20, d12, d10, d8, d6, d4) and roll them. This will generate the creature's general description.

Animal Type: Roll 1d20
01 Arthropod - Insect
02 Arthropod - Arachnid
03 Arthropod - Crustacean- May breathe underwater.
04 Amphibian
05 Reptile - Lizard
06 Reptile - Snake
07 Reptile - Turtle - AC -2
08 Reptile - Draconic - Fly 90' (30')
09 Bird - Songbird - Fly 180' (60')
10 Bird - Raptor - Fly 180' (60')
11 Bird - Fowl - Fly 90' (30')
12 Mammal - Rodent/Mustelid/Lagomorph
13 Mammal - Ursine/Procyonid
14 Mammal - Feline
15 Mammal - Canine
16 Mammal - Bovine/Caprine
17 Mammal - Equine
18 Mammal - Primate
19 Humanoid
20 Roll Twice, first roll is front end/head, second roll is back end/body

Attitude: Roll 1d12
01 Surly and Uncooperative
02 Flighty and Timid
03 Affable and Friendly
04 Clingy and Shy
05 Listless and Sleepy
06 Aggressive and Irritable
07 Helpful and Obedient
08 Overzealous and Impatient
09 Amorous and Affectionate
10 Oblivious and Distracted
11 Random and Capricious
12 Aloof and Standoffish

Coloration: Roll 1d10
01: Red
02: Orange
03: Yellow
04: Green
05: Blue
06: Violet
07: Brown
08: White
09: Grey
10: Black

Hide Quality: Roll 1d8
01: Dull
02: Glossy
03: Bright
04: Dark
05: Spotted (roll second color)
06: Striped (roll second color)
07: Piebald (roll second color)
08: Glowing

Natural Weapons: Roll 1d6
01 Fast Runner/Flyer- Double Movement Rate
02 Claw/Claw: Lvl 1-3: 1d4-2/1d4-2|Lvl 4-6: 1d4/1d4|Lvl 7-9: 1d6/1d6
03 Horns: Lvl 1-3: 1d6/Lvl 4-6: 1d8/Lvl 7-9: 1d12
04 Stinger (Paralytic, Save Vs. Poison)
05 Breath Weapon (HP dmg, 3xDay)
06 Roll Twice

Special Abilities: Roll 1d4
01 Brave - +2 to Morale
02 Wings - Fly 180' (60') If already winged, add 30' (10') to movement
03 Speech (80% Common, 10% Demihuman, 5% Humanoid, 5% Draconic)
04 May cast 1d4 additional spells of 1/2 their level 1 time per day. Range of spells is rolled randomly at creation and remains fixed.

Dweomon Masters

Of course, such manifestly mystical creatures will not be left to wander in the wild. So much power on the paw, claw, hoof or wing will naturally be sought after by the ambitious or foolhardy.

In the years following their creation, a new breed of animal tamer has arisen who's goal is to seek out and capture these magical creatures, turning their abilities to their own purposes. They travel the land looking for wild Dweomon to tame, or to trade or take from others of their profession by barter or battle.

These Dweomon experts follow the last cryptic scrawling left by Professor Quercus on the last standing wall remaining of his laboratory:

Etiam augue omnes.

"Must catch them all."

These men and women are known as Dweomon Masters.

REQUIREMENT: Cha 12
PRIME REQUISITES: Wis & Cha
Hit Dice: d6

ABILITIES:
Their primary ability is to bond with and command Dweomon. A first level Dweomon master may bond with first level Dweomon, and every two levels after that they gain the ability to bond with a higher level of Dweomon. (Eg: At Level 3 they may bond with Lvl 2 Dweomon, At Level 5 they may bond with Lvl 3 Dweomon, etc. etc.)

This bonding may only occur with a wild Dweomon if the creature in question has been pacified with offerings of food and kind treatment, or has been captured or subdued, and the subject gets a Save vs. Spell with a +1 bonus for every point of non-subdual damage inflicted on the creature. Wild Dweomon will roll a reaction check upon encountering a Dweomon Master and behave accordingly, even to the point of casting their embodied spell if need be.

A Dweomon Master may automatically bond with a Dweomon that has been freely traded from another Master, or with one hatched by one of the Dweomon in his or her service. Hatchling Dweomon will imprint on the first Dweomon or Dweomon Master it sees.

A Dweomon will follow their Master loyally, but they are very much like henchmen. They will roll Morale checks if ordered into danger or unpleasant tasks, will bridle at abuse or neglect, to the point of running away and becoming wild again with a permanent +4 to their Save vs. Spell for bonding purposes. Conversely, if the creature is treated with respect and kindness, the Dweomon Master will gain a faithful and powerful ally.

There is no limit to the number of Dweomon that may follow a Dweomon Master, beyond the (possibly considerable) expense of care and feeding, and the difficulties that may arise between Dweomon of wildly varying types and personalities all vying for their Master's attention and care. The creatures' extreme rarity and high demand makes it uncommon for any but the most extremely powerful to amass much of a menagerie.

A first level Dweomon Master will start with a single Dweomon companion. This one is always the most loyal of their collection and will always have a morale of 10. While Dweomon are truly genderless, they will tend to take on the character of their Master over time.

A Dweomon Master cannot wear armor any heavier than leather, but may use shields. They select from a limited range of weapons more suited for subdual and capture over dealing lethal damage which includes clubs, nets, and quarterstaves, and for ranged weapons slings and shortbows or light crossbows equipped with special beanbag tipped arrows that stun rather than kill. (These cost the same as normal bolts or arrows, but only do subdual damage to unarmored targets.)

They can carry a dagger or shortsword, but only for self defense, and will never use it on a Dweomon or any other magical creature.

Upon reaching 9th. level, a Dweomon Master may choose to set up a stronghold that can serve as a training center, medical facility, and hostel for other wandering Dweomon Masters. 1d6 Apprentice Dweomon Masters will arrive to train under him or her, and any wild Dweomon wandering into the area around the center will be attracted as well by what they instinctually know is a safe and friendly environment for them.

Dweomon Masters use the Magic User table for level advancement, and use Thief saving throws.

Dweomon Eggs

All Dweomon regardless of type or appearance are genderless, and reproduce by laying eggs.

This happens once a year, and is marked by a huge increase in the amount of food the creature takes in. (The Dweomon will eat 10X its weight in food every day for a week. Due to their highly omnivorous nature, this isn't too much of a problem unless those keeping them have buildings or belongings they're particularly attached to.)

These eggs are commonly bicolored and spherical, usually red and white (some say this relates to the heraldry of the Vermilion College, although this is largely viewed with skepticism), but other colors are possible. They are nigh-indestructable, and vary in size from as tiny as robins' eggs to about a foot in diameter for the most powerful specimens. A knowledgeable Dweomon Master can estimate the level of an egg on a 3 or less on a d6.

Dweomon eggs are inert, and may remain so indefinitely until a spell is cast upon them, either by a spellcaster or by another Dweomon. If the one who hatched the egg is neither another Dweomon or Dweomon Master, the infant Dweomon will remain dependent until full grown, at which time it will attempt to escape into the wild. For some reason, a Dweomon cannot cast a spell on its own eggs to make them hatch. A pair of Dweomon in the wild may form a "mated pair" of sorts, hatching one another's eggs and raising the offspring to adulthood.

When a spell is cast upon a Dweomon egg, the egg hatches into a Dweomon that is the embodiment of that spell, regardless of what type laid the egg in the first place. A newly hatched Dweomon is 1/3 the size of its adult form, and has only 1 hd, gaining 1 hd per month until reaching their full growth. They lack any special attacks or other abilities until they reach their full growth.

The only limiting factor on this is that the eggs of lesser Dweomon aren't capable of hatching into greater Dweomon, and in fact if a spell of higher level is cast on a lower level egg, the egg will explode doing d6 damage for every point of difference in level out to its level X 10 feet radius.

A higher level Dweomon egg "fertilized" with a lower level spell will result in a matching litter of lesser Dweomon equal number to the level of the egg divided by the level of the spell. Any rounding errors result in a random Dweomon of the remaining levels embodying a different spell of their level.

Dweomon Eggs are highly prized, especially those of higher level, and can command prices of at least 100 gp per spell level on the open market. Dweomon are highly protective and possessive of their eggs, and will not part with them willingly. A Dweomon Master who takes one of his charges' eggs to sell or give away will find the creature suffers a cumulative -1 to Morale every time this is done, until such time as the creature runs away.

This class is hereby designated as Open Game Content via the Open Game License.

Weekend At Delta's!

2011-08-14T21:09:00.000-07:00

Howdy kittens, cats, and Aquabats!

Just had a great weekend taking a trip down to Novo Yogo to hang with my good friend Delta and the lovely and effervescent Miz G. They were most excellent hosts, and they have my gratitude. It was a GREAT weekend.

Since this is Delta we're talking about, there was indeed gaming, as well as many other most excellent activities which I may expound upon in an addendum, but since this is a gaming blog I shall highlight the games we played.

I suppose I should note that upon picking me up at the Port Authority Delta was kind enough to help me schlep my luggage as we took advantage of the opportunity to visit some of the city's finest nerd haunts, two excellent comic book stores, as well as the narrow, tightly packed, game filled corridors of the Compleat Strategist, which was cool.

MARVEL SUPER HEROES - THUNDER OVER JOTUNHEIM

The gaming aspect of the weekend started with a boom of thunder from the hoary halls of Asgard, as Delta led me through a solo Marvel Superhero's module in the golden haired guise of the Odinson himself, the mighty THOR!

Seeking in the fell land of Jotunheim for the missing Sword of Frey, to gird the forces of Asgard with another weapon against the gathering threat of the Frost Giants who flocked to the banner of the treacherous Loki, the god of thunder didst set out across the blasted landscape of that dark land.

After traveling a day, weary of brow did he lay himself down to slumber, and was met in a dream by the mysterious apparition of Karnilla the Queen of the Norns, who did offer him a boon in exchange for his promise to soundly trounce Loki in her name. Accepting the role of the Lady of Fate's champion, he accepted a lock of her hair as a token.

Thundering forth like … well… thunder upon awakening, the Odinson didst come upon a quartet of foul Frost Giants who had tied a female of their kind to a stone and prepared to slay her. Verily didst the Greatest Son of Asgard layeth down yon smack, and didst he pummelth them aplenty about their misshapen heads.

And lo didst yon maiden joyously thank the Golden Haired one and did she also leadest him to a mysterious hut on the outskirteth of a village of giants, wherein he was led to council with a wise woman under whom the rescued damsel was apprenticed. Verily didst the hag proclaim that the Mighty Odinson may seek beneath the very earth of Jotunheim in some hidden fastness to findest ye dancing sword of Frey wherein the Trickster Loki hadst behidden it. And thence did yon wise witch combust into a cloud of prophetic smoke and vanisheth to the Odinson's visioneth.

Much emboggled, as yon Jotun maid fled the hut, the base trickster Loki didst appear, waxing wroth in his weaselness and seeking to waylay his noble half brother with spells and trickery vile. Thus annoyed a provoked Odinson backhandeth yon ratface twerpeth and fetched he a proper beating upon the treasonous one.

Alas, had yon beatdown occurred outside in view of the giants, the clever one might have been much besmirched in their regard, but yea when the God of Thunder's Asgardian knuckles did vile Loki partake in the manner of a starving man at a great banquet he did hie himself from that place shaking his own bony little fists and vowing to enact surpassing mischief upon his noble half brother.

His regal brow darkened by portents and troubled by ye god of jerks did the Odinson strike forth, clefting yon sky with the thong of Mjolnir the Hammer of Thunder clenched in his fist as he made for the great flaming chasm that splitteth ye breadth of the blighted land of Jotunheim. The thunderous logic of the Mighty One reasoned thus that a chasm may lead underground to the hiding place of the missing sword.

Walking boldly down into the very cleft that split the foul land of giants in twain, did the Odinson findeth a chamber abandoned, what perchance mayhap have held a thrilling encounter had he but chosen a different route at the outset of his adventure. But verily the chamber was empty as the boiling skies above the domain of the giants, and thus did the Mighty Thor step onto a bridge across the boiling river of lava to becross yon chasm.

Lo, when the mighty thonged boots of the Odinson step upon the other side, didst a fell and fiery quartet of magma monsters arise to challenge the god of thunder. While alarm didst disturb the brow of the golden haired son of Asgard, he didst deflect their magmanous hurlings and deflectest their blows with the whirling wall of Uru metal that a wielder of mighty Mjolnir may createstith. Then, as the heat made the sweat embead his godly brow, didst the Odinson pop yon fiery weasels with the hurled hammer of Thunder.

His battle done, the mighty Thor didst clambereth upon the far lip of the chasm, and steppested did he upon the marshy groundeth of yon everburning swamp, wherein the very mud didst burn like kindling in the furnaces of the dwarves.

Whilst he sojourned in the odious expanse of flaming putrescence, did he come upon a strange hut, its very walls builteth of sheets of fire. Much relieved to see an open door, precluding that the Odinson wouldst singe his thunderous knuckles upon having to knock on a door of flame, didst a tongue of fire lick out from the house to burneth ye wandering Asgardian prince. Batting this affront to his unburned state aside with a whirl of Mjolnir did the Champion of Asgard beginneth a fight with a piece of overheated real estate, and didst his hurled assaults with his trusty hammer come to little effect.

Never being one to allow discretion to be the better part of valor, did the Odinson changeth his tactics in a gambit most clever, instead using the mastery of the elements conveyed by his mystic hammer to call down the tears of the storm clouds above, causing them to weep with joy at his upcoming victory as he quenched the flames ensheathing yon hovel and then laying forth the wrecketh upon its tottering walls.

Flush from his triumph over a building, didst the god of thunder wend his way back to the chasm, wherein he saw a giant aflame standing at the prow of a stone boat. The flickering lout didst smile an ingratiating smile and promise yon Asgardian a passage across the expanse of lava.

As the mighty hand of the Odinson stroketh his mighty chin, a bird of flame burst from the lava and cry that the boatsgiant, who was klept by the name of Scrog, was a base liar who schemed to cast the god of thunder headlongeth into yon sizzling abyss when we was not lookingeth.

Twas truly a puzzlement, and one which caused the godly earholes of yon son of Asgard to smolder as the chasm didst as he weighed who may be lying and who may be not telling the truth. Then did the Odinson hie himself to a snapeth decision, wherein yon flaming bird's angle for helping him could not be determined, so didst the mighty one send it screaming upon its way with a toss of Mjolnir.

Boarding the giant's stone lavacraft, did the god of thunder come to rue his choice, as midheim along yon lava floweth did the vile Scgrog smacketh him with his stone pole in foul ambuscade, gloating at the seeming success of his ruse.

But could a giant of flame who would sink to such foul gambits best yon son of Odin.

I say thee NAY!

NAY!

Verily didst the mighty Thor turn from his seat and tappest in the face the treacherous giant a blow of remonstrance from the enchanted mallet of his birthright. Wailing in brutish despair, base Scgrog was undone and deboated, cast into the very lava he had conspired to betip yon god of thunder athwart. Satisfied that he had made his pointeth, didst the Odinson makest like yon motorboats of Midgard with Mjolnir and power to the other side of the chasm.

Heaving himself upon yon other side, the mighty Thor did find himself in a mist, wherein the towering outlines of four frost giants seekest to findeth him. Two of yon brutes did spotteth ye Odinson, and gave charge, whilst the others did search in vain. Both were laid low by his mystic mallet, and then wisely didst ye god of thunder tiptoeth away in avoidance of ye other two.

Then did the hero of Asgard cometh to a bridge across a great canyon in the rocky abiding place of the lumpen trolls. There by the entry didst he find a weeping giantess, who had been chained thereto.

As he stepped up to rescueth her, did a half dozen trolls leap out to waylay the Odinson. A quick whirl of Mjolnir sent all of them yodeling mournfully to their doom.

The jotun maid lamented her part in baiting any would be rescuers into the troll's terrible trap, and left the golden haired son of Asgard singing of her gratitude.

The mighty Thor did presseth on into the kingdom of the trolls, striding with godly purpose through a cavern carved in the terrible likeness of a the gaping maw of the serpent of Midgard.

Therein, did he findeth the foul king of the trolls holding court over his minions, and thus taking the part of emissary, did the Odinson seek to parley with yon creeps. Frowningly didst the troll king scowl, and vowest didst he that he wouldst not venture to parley with the Asgardians until the mighty one didst show his mettle by besting his champion.

Of course, did the golden haired champion of his own exalted kingdom agree to the hunched monsters terms. Then, from out of the shadows stompeth the worst of trolls, the horrible Ulik, he of the uru forged brass knuckles, and the battle was joined.

Back and forth the titans didst brawleth, but alas did his many travails and the long journey wear the mighty Thor down, until, lo though he didst nearly vanquish the brutish Ulik, was the Odinson cast down upon his godly posterior and then did the troll king achieve the ill wrought honor of capturing the god of thunder for ransom.

And thus did the mighty Thor strike outeth, and then didst he coolest his heels 'til his people didst bail him out.

Overall, a fun adventure, and even though our man Thor got whupped at the end, it was still pretty epic, and I was doin' good 'til I finally ran out of juice against what was probably the toughest foe in the adventure. So all told, a good game. Very mythic in tone.

'nuff said

BOOK OF WAR - FANTASY BATTLE - FIRE & LIGHTNING

(Pics to follow once Delta sends 'em my way...)

The second game I played was another chance to try out Delta's magnum opus, The Book of War. The cool thing for both of us was that this was his first chance to give his fantasy based troop rules a shakedown run.

I chose my forces in kind of a dilettante fashion, choosing to go with a basic wizard armed with a Wand of Lightning Bolts, a Blue Dragon, A Storm Giant, a force of Dwarvish medium infantry, and a smaller but more expensive force of elite Dwarf heavy infantry, as well as a single stand of halfling commandos since I had five points left after all my pricy unit choices. Maybe I was still grooving off of Thor's adventures when I picked 'em. In fact, I'll declare this army Team Thunder in his honor.

Anyway, we were faced off against a much more conventional force of combined elvish archers, human pikemen, a unit of heavy cavalry, and an opposing wizard armed with a Wand of Fireballs as well as a few other spells, which I hereby designate Team Fuego.

Terrain placement kind of favored my strategy. Delta's terrain rolls came up bupkis, whereas mine gave me a hill and a stream, which I deployed to help bolster what I figured would be kind of turtled, pick 'em off with lightning strategy.

Right from the start, things kinda busted bad in my direction. Delta won initiative and skootched his forces forward, and then I led with my dragon, which was my first and biggest mistake. Delta had wisely kept his main pike unit with the sorcerer imbed about an inch back, which was just short of my dragon's range. That left the dumb brute open from a charge from the side, which took it out on his next move, since my dragon couldn't breath on a unit of guys without being in base to base contact. So bang I lost an expensive unit right off.

I used my storm giant's power over the weather to try to turn the already cloudy conditions into rain, which would screw up Delta's archers, but his wizard countered with a weather control spell of his own, equalling out the effect and keeping the weather the way it was.

I'd sent my giant around the hill, while my wizard and his honor guard of hard chargin' dwarf elites climbed to the top for a good view of the carnage, and a chance to start plinking with the Lightning Wand.

Meanwhile, my regular dwarves and my one sorry little attachment of halflings moved up into the gap between the hill and the river ready to receive visitors, while Delta marched his pikes and archers up in a phased advance.

My giant got taken out with a fusillade of elven arrows, and Delta's Fireball Wand started whittling down my normal dwarves. I think I managed to get a little of my own back with a couple shots from my Lightning Wand, and it was looking like it was gonna end up as a wizards duel of magical ordinance.

It was here that Delta made HIS big mistake of the game. He used his wizard's Move Earth spell to shove the hill my wizard and his heavy dwarves were standing on back out of wand range of his main line.

Unfortunately for him, this still left me in range of his advancing heavy cav, which helped me make up my mind what to target with my wand attack. I zetzed his cavalry with a broadside of two shots that wiped out two thirds and sent the survivors galloping for the edge of the board.

This was probably the best offense I managed to make. I think I sent my medium dwarves and halflings across the stream to try to slow down the wave of troops coming my way so that I could start plinking at them with lightning, but I never got the chance, as a round after Delta invoked the Move Earth and dragged the hill back into range, he nailed my sizzling wizard with his Fireball Wand and decapitated the head of my army.

I'm not remembering if it was pikes or bowfire that routed my medium dwarves, whilst trampling my hapless halflings underfoot on the way to get to 'em, but I was soon down to just my elite corps of bad@ss dwarves.

I was ready to throw in the towel, but Delta persuaded me to keep going for the sake of completeness, pointing out the my forces were still mighty mighty, being 3rd lvl elites who required a 6 to even hit. I think they held their ground and managed to even rout a couple of the weaker units facing them, but eventually numbers overcame my doughty defenders, and the board was wiped clean of Team Thunder.

Even though I had chalked up another loss, it was no biggie for me. A: I was helping Delta test out his masterpiece, and B: I'd fully expected to get my clock cleaned. I had the dice bust ugly on me a few times in the game, and that had an effect on my success (like his wizard managing to just make his save against a couple lightning strikes and surviving to toast my guy's sorry kiester.)

There's kind of received wisdom that if you just pick "cool" units for your forces in a war-game, you're probably asking for grief as you tie up big wads of points or quatloos or whatever into flashy units that hemorrhage your advantage as your enemy concentrates on them and takes 'em out.

That being said, though, the game actually was pretty close, and Delta and I agreed that even playing a whim based army build can be effective with his rules. Thats not to say actually thinking things through isn't the preferred option, it's mostly that the ruleset is honed to the point that a beginner isn't gonna get bucked off too hard making less informed choices, which then leads to them sticking with it and becoming more experienced and thoughtful, which really is a good thing for a good game to encourage, 'fya ask me...

So all told, a jolly good day's gaming.

SHADOW LORD

Our third game was a choice driven by nostalgia, the obscure Parker Bro's board game Shadowlord, which came out in 1983 and that I remember fondly from owning my own copy. It just so happens that Delta has a copy, and after a day of active adventuring we returned home and laid out the board to play.

Now, my memory of the game itself was kind of garbled. There were these four color coded elemental space lords who could recruit all these groovy fantasy heros for their space armada in that wonderfully loopy fantasy meets SPACE Flash Gordon/Xanadu style of the early 80's.

I seem to remember playing it a couple times with my brother, Mom & Dad, and since I was all of 11 years old and my brother was 8, I think it was a bit too complex for us kids and we never played it much, although all the bits and the funky portraits of the space heroes were cool.

So after perusing the rules and getting our heads wrapped around them, we started playing a 3 person game, with myself as the Earth Lord with a coterie of critter headed allies, Delta as the Water Lord with a proper force of chaps, and Miz G as the Fire Lord with her all chick hit squad of galactic kneecappers. We were all faced off against the sinister Shadow Lord, who'd usurped our birthright, the Star Crystal, and had amassed a sinister armada of space bastards to cloak all the galaxies in darkness.

(One note, I was always kind of bummed that the Shadows never had portraits like the Element Lords and their comrades. I'd have liked to have seen how The Invincible Darkness, Baron Cruel, or the Iron Claw's ugly mugs looked. I guess being cloaked in darkness made it hard to get a good shot for the Shadow Lord's "Employee of the Month" plaque.)

The game itself was pretty fun. Surprisingly so. I think while it was too heavy for a young kid, it was kind of light and fluffy and easy to grok for a much more experienced gamer.

It sort of played like Starfarers of Catan (a.k.a. Sternenfaherers Auf Catan to my home-slices in the former GA crew) with all the Catan-ity taken out (i.e. No resource noodling or trading. No getting space wood for their space sheep).

You set your dudes up in these space rings and added space ships to 'em which told you how many moves you could make, and you had to have a guy in a space to keep moving thru it, so you moved your forces around to leapfrog your guys. A class of character called a Diplomat, who had no fighting power, was needed to flip over a chit placed in each galaxy space. If it was an unattached potential ally, you could get 'em to join your side. If it was the name of one of the sinister Shadows, they'd be plunked on the board and kitted out with black ships.

If a fight happened, your space ring and the enemy's would be transported to the DIMENSION OF BATTLE!!! where you'd count up the guy's number, the number of ships, and then draw a power card with a number. The defender could also play cards they'd cached under their dude's portrait. Once the numbers were added up, the higher one would emerge victorious, the number of ships destroyed would be calculated by a draw from the deck, and the loser would fall prisoner to the winner and they'd all re-enter galactic space.

So the game went down like this. We spent the early innings recruiting space dudes and adding ships, and there was some early setbacks for the Fire Lord's forces as she rumbled with some of the Shadows and lost, her allies facing capture by the vicious Baron Cruel.

The Water Lord played a pretty canny game, but then got in a tangle with the Shadow Lord's worst minion, the Invincible Darkness. (Why did you attack the darkness?) Ol' Invincible got some pretty good power draws and managed to whup the Water Lord, thereby taking him out of the game. (Your leader was a big vulnerable point. While they had the best number (8) on the good side, if they were lost you lost the whole enchilada.)

In the confusion following their brother's defeat at the hands of the Invincible Darkness (something about the baddy's name might indicate why…) the Fire Lord found an opportunity and struck at the Earth Lord with her forces, bringing him down as well and ending the war of succession with her victorious.

Now, technically this meant that the Fire Lord had won the game, but since the Shadow Lord was still crouched at the center of the board, and still had a bunch of henchmen floating around space and still held the Power Crystal, we decided after a brief break to play the game out as a final battle between the Fire Lord and the Shadow Lord, with yours truly doing the funny voices for the Shadows, and Delta refereeing.

This was satisfying, but we house ruled some things that tipped things pretty strongly in Team Fuego's favor. I wasn't able to move the Shadows, and since the Fire Lord could take turn after turn, she was accumulating power cards (POWER!) at an amazing rate.

She eventually lured all the other Shadows out of the Forbidden Zone (It's just a name, like the Death Zone or the Zone of No Return. All the Zones have names like that in the Galaxy of Terror) and went in and whomped the Shadow Lord off the throne and planted a flaming boot in his nethers before walking off with the Power Crystal. The forces of good, obnoxious in victory tho they may be, had carried the day.

I enjoyed this game a lot. I suspect the copy I got when I was but a tender lad has long since been thrown out or flea marketed away, so someday when I get a little free-er financial flow, I may try to dig it up on Ebay or whatever. While it's a bit too esoteric for a young audience, for my fellow children of the 80's it's pretty fun.

(Delta's got some pics of this game too. There's also some other things he may share from this session, so stay tuned to this blog and his as well...)

ADDENDUM!

In addition to all the awesome gaming I did with my good friend Delta this weekend I:

Talked and joked and generally just relaxed with some seriously copacetic folks.

Saw "Captain America". Loved it! Best Marvel movie thus far, in my opinion. I'd see it again. Really spot on! The tone was right, the references were deep and rich, and it just worked on all levels for me.

Read a bunch of Delta's vintage "Shogun Warrior" comics. The adds were almost more fun than the book itself. It reaffirmed that the monstrous "Hand of Five" is one of the awesomest monster foes out there and deserves to be dug up as some kind of monster encounter.

(When Tiamat the Dragon and a Bigby's Grasping Hand love each other very much…)
(Okay, that's freaking me out…)

Ate excellent Chinese, a darn fine burger, and all weekend Delta fired my morning rampaging with bacon and chocolate chip pancakes! And there was copious fine sodas and ice cream cones with chocolate sprinkles. Truly a feast for the very champions of yore!

Checked out the hip bohemian scene down on the Lower East Side. Also checked out a lot of the cool artwork that Miz G was up to.

Rode the ferry to Governor's Island. Stomped around the fort and its ramparts and checked out some awesome underground ammo magazines. Saw some neat environmentally inspired art projects there.

Saw a neat show of Lee Ufan's zen inspired minimalist painting and sculpture, a neat little sampling of Kandinsky's Bauhaus drawings, and a room papered with dollar bills at the Guggenheim.

Rode the subway a lot. Delta proved his mettle as a gentleman and a scholar on Sunday when he guided me through the rain soaked chaos of the subway to get me to my bus for the return trip.

So all told, a most excellent adventure and an immensely satisfying visit with some dear, dear friends.

Huzzah!

New Labyrinth Lord Monster: Purple Dragon

2011-08-10T14:00:00.000-07:00

"I don't like this. Getting in here was too easy."

The stocky, chestnut colored Earth Pony muttered to his companions as he shuffled his shaggy hooves skittishly on the smooth granite floor of the vast underground tunnel.

His chainmail barding clinked softly over the rustling of the long copper colored braids that ran down his thick neck to his powerful whithers, as he turned his head to look at them. "A dragon's lair should be much better defended."

A slight, grey furred Unicorn Pony stallion stood facing a massive, iron banded doorway set into the living stone of the tunnel, his darker grey traveling cloak draped over a well worn set of leather barding. His horn glimmered a silvery color, as he levitated a set of lock picks and dug them around in the keyhole set in the portal's face.

He didn't turn to look at his much larger comrade as he replied, his yellowish eyes narrowed in concentration. "I always knew you northerners were backwards. Down in the civilized lands we're usually happy when its easy."

The Earth Pony snorted derisively and turned back to peer down the cavernous tunnel, his braided tail lashing behind him in irritation.

The diminutive Unicorn Pony's lips compressed into a sardonic smile as he worked the lock picks. "Well, once I get through this beastly contraption we'll soon have you cheered up. There are so many gemstones on the other side of this door my horn feels like it's going to pop right off of my forehead." He lapsed into silence as he continued to fiddle with the lock, his tongue beginning to creep slowly out the side of mouth.

Cob Farrier chuckled to himself as he leaned against the wall next to the doorway with his spear propped against the stone beside him, holding a flickering torch out so that the small equine could see what he was doing without tying up his horn with a light spell.

He'd been traveling with Drafter and The Dowser for the better part of a year, ever since he'd first met them in the Equestrian city of Lankmare, and their constant banter always amused him. He'd never imagined a seasoned warrior like himself would enjoy the company of these little ponies so much.

His brow furrowed in a more serious expression as he turned his attention back down the other branch of the corridor. There would be plenty of time to laugh later, especially if they made it out with the wealth that the small grey Unicorn Pony was promising they'd find. But for now, it was time to keep an eye out for trouble.

Trouble, however, announced itself to their ears rather than their eyes, as a low, base rumble sounded from down the hallway that Drafter was watching.

A pair of emerald green eyes glinted in the darkness, and something large and terrible with claws that sparked on the granite and footfalls that shook the trio up to their knees approached. The torch in Cob's hand shook as a huge reptilian head with glossy purple scales snaked into the pool of light it cast.

An impossibly deep voice echoed in their ears. "And what do you little mammals think you're doing trying to break into my pantry?"

Cob and The Dowser stood transfixed, as Drafter spun on his hooves and shouted at them. "Run you wretches. I'll hold it here!"

He craned his flexible neck as coppery braids flailed about his head and shoulders, and yanked a broadsword out from a sheath on his harness. He turned back toward the dragon, snorting and pawing at the ground with the handle of the blade clenched in his teeth.

The great purple scaled monster rolled its glinting eyes and snorted as well, in what could be called a dismissive tone if it didn't make all three adventurers want to wet themselves. "Really? You want to do it this way, do you?"

The chestnut Earth Pony whinnied a battle cry tinged with stark terror, and charged at the dragon as his grey Unicorn Pony companion shouted after him in desperation. "NO! Backwards! Run AWAY from the peril! DRAFTER!"

His cry rose hysterically as a cone of green flame blossomed in the hallway. The warrior pony vanished in a puff of black ash, as his companions stared in stark horror. The dragon shook his head in what could almost be imagined to be sorrow, before fixing its gaze on the remaining two invaders of its lair.

Cob Farrier's spear clattered on the stone floor as he turned and took to his heels, the torch clenched in a white knuckle grip in his hand. He dared a look back over his shoulder and saw the great beast looming over the tiny, trembling form of The Dowser, who appeared to be frozen in fear. Before the fleeing human could cry out, the dragon coughed another emerald colored apocalypse, and his other little pony friend was gone.

The lone adventurer ran pell mell down the cavernous hallway, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as his breath came in terrified sobs, grief and fear mixed bitterly in his heart.

Were it not for the guttering torch in his hand, he would have slammed face first into a wall of rock that completely blocked his progress, trapping him. He shouted incoherently and pounded on the unyeilding stone, before the dragons footfalls behind him replaced his hot panic with cold terror. He turned at bay, pressing back against the wall as the huge creature once again stepped into the torchlight. All he could do was wait for his end.

And wait.

And wait.

The dragon settled itself down on its haunches and forelimbs and stared at him with its piercing green eyes, tapping its long graceful claws on the floor as Cob trembled and breathed ragged, shuddering breaths in the echoing stone space that would become his tomb.

Still, no death came, as the creature sat with what could almost be termed a rather bored expression on its reptilian face. Eventually, the man at arms could take it no longer, and in a strangled voice called out to the dragon. "Wh-why don't you strike? What are you waiting for?"

In reply, a rumble issued from the depths of the great, purple scaled beast's belly, and it looked at him with a glint in its eye. "Just this."

A moment later it belched forth another gout of green flame, this time tinged with a thousand glittering, sparkling motes. Cob shielded his eyes and shrank back against the wall. And then it was over.

He shook his head. It wasn't over in the way he'd expected at all. The heat and green flash just stopped, leaving just the light of his torch, still held tightly in his hand in a death grip. No searing pain. Nothing. He dared to look up and his jaw dropped in shock.

There, huddled before the dragon with drooping ears and tails stood his two equine companions, their heads held low in a posture of contrition. While slightly singed, they were otherwise unharmed. The huge beast tapped one of its claws and narrowed its gleaming emerald eyes. "Well?"

Drafter petulantly nudged The Dowser, who spoke up with a sullen, defeated tone. "Her Majestic Solar Highness sends her regards, and has commanded us to convey our heartfelt apologies for disturbing your lair. We're all very, very sorry, and we promise it will never happen again, and that we will try to think of others before breaking into their homes and trying to make off with their valuables."

The dragon gave the three of them a long, appraising look, then nodded to itself in satisfaction. As it rose to its feet, it jerked a scythe bladed thumb over its shoulder. "Good. Now get out, and don't ever let me catch you in this part of Equestria again."

With that, it turned, and stalked away into the depths of the tunnel. Cob stood dumbfounded as Drafter turned and walked over to him with his hooves dragging on the floor. He grabbed a corner of the man at arms' cloak in his teeth and gave it a tug. "Come on. Lets get out of here while the getting is good."

The human could only stammer a reply as he began to shuffle forward. "By the g-g-gods…"

The Dowser sighed and frowned, kicking at a pebble with his hoof as he slouched down the hall ahead of his comrades. "Yes. We were just sent to see ours, and she gave us quite a stern talking to…"

___________________________________________

PURPLE DRAGON:
Number Encountered: 1d4(1d4)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 90(30) Fly: 240'(80')
Armor Class: 0
Hit dice: 9
Attacks: 3 (Claw, Claw, Bite) or 1(Breath)
Damage: 1d6/1d6/3d10
Save: F9
Morale: 9
Horde: XV (With 100% chance of gems)
Habitat: Rolling Hills & Plains or Underground
Probability Asleep: 10%
Probability of Speech: 90%
Breath: 70' long, 30' wide, Cone, Green Teleportation Flame
Spells: Lvl 1: 5/Lvl 2: 5/Lvl 3: 3

Purple Dragons, sometimes known as Royal Dragons, are a rare subspecies of dragon thought to share kinship with both Blue and Red Dragons, with a Blue's tendency towards Neutral behavior and the Red's love of hoarding treasure, particularly gemstones, which they eat with great relish. Purple Dragons prefer rolling plains and low hills for their lairs, but are excellent diggers and are quite comfortable in underground catacombs.

They are highly magical in nature, which is most prominently manifested in their breath weapon, a cone shaped gout of green flame that magically teleports the target to a location chosen by the dragon, causing them to appear in a cloud of sparkling green flames completely unharmed. This can either be some location in its lair, or within 10' of another powerful creature that the dragon has attuned to. This recipient can be another dragon, or some other powerful magical being like a god or goddess, a titan, a storm or cloud giant, a genie, a lich, or an elf or wizard of 9th. level or higher. It takes about a year in the dragon's presence for it to be attuned to a non-dragon in this way.

A non-dragon of sufficient power can learn a variant of the Teleport spell that allows them to send creatures and objects to the Purple Dragon's location, causing them to appear in a gout of flame spontaneously belched forth by the dragon. A Purple Dragon can use its teleportation breath weapon three times a day, as normal for dragons, but can receive sendings without limit.

Any target caught in this green flame may avoid teleportation if they make a successful Save vs. Breath Weapon. This results in them taking half damage as if they'd instead been hit by a Red Dragon's fire breath.

Purple Dragons are highly intelligent, and use their teleportation breath to its full tactical advantage. At the very least, they will drop their targets into lakes, cages, or monster lairs if they have a cruel streak. Two or more Purple Dragons working in tandem can send reinforcements to one another, causing fearsome guard beasts like manticores and owlbears to appear before interlopers as if conjured. Some rumors persist that these creatures are even able to breathe upon themselves and escape from danger, but this has never been proven.

Some more magically advanced kingdoms retain young specimens of this breed as messengers, using them to send small packages and letters across vast distances instantly. When these courier dragons come of age, they are generally released with a rich pension, and are under the protection of the kingdom they served, able to call upon them for aid. Purple Dragon clans will often adopt out, or sell, their eggs to such kingdoms to strengthen alliances and increase their gem hordes.

This monster is hereby designated as Open Game Content via the Open Game License. My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic is copyright © Hasbro Inc. This article implies no claim on said copyright and is done without permission in the spirit of fun, love, and tolerance.

New Labyrinth Lord Race/Class: Equestrian Ponies!

2011-08-08T13:17:00.000-07:00

A flurry of motion at the door of the tavern caught Lars Kettlebeck's eye and he looked lazily up from wiping down a flagon. A cloud of yellow trail dust was settling out on the front porch, shaken off by some sort of animal that proceeded to come inside.

It was roughly a yard high at the shoulder, equine in configuration, and encased from snout to tail in dully gleaming plate mail barding that showed the patina of knocks and dents that only came from long service in the field. Some kind of crest depicting a horseshoe and a bunch of berries was painted on the flanks of the barding, the bright colors scratched and faded with use and travel.

What glimpses of the little animal's hide there were visible under the metal shell and padded blankets were covered in dirt dulled cobalt blue fur, with a tightly cropped tail of purplish midnight blue that looked for all the world like the end of a well used broom jutting up from the creature's hindquarters through a gap in the steel plates.

A pair of travel stained saddle bags hung over its back, with a coil of rope, an empty waterskin, and a map case dangling from straps on its harness. Lars' sharp eyes furrowed a bit as he took note of a weapon, a common instinct among the tavern keepers in the border towns. What looked like the handle of some kind of falchion or cutlass protruded from beneath the creature's left hand saddlebag, its simple wooden grip marked with indentations that looked like tooth marks.

The barman resumed wiping down the flagon as the creature made its way toward him, the clack clack of the metal soles of the boot like contraptions it wore on its hooves echoing in the relative quiet of late morning. Some of the drunks sobering up in the corners winced at the noise, while others merely gaped at the spectacle of what looked like a tiny knight's destrier walking purposefully across the common room. Lars merely kept a stolid expression as the thing vanished from his point of view, obscured by the bar.

He heard the clinking sound of buckles being undone, followed by a soft clatter of iron soles dropping to the floor, and then the slightly grating sound of the barstool before him being moved. A moment later the little armored creature hove back into view, pulling itself up onto the barstool and sitting up on its haunches with its blue furred fore hooves resting on the eroded varnish of the bar.

A gravelly voice, deeper than Lars would have expected, issued forth from beneath the rounded sallet with its v shaped eye slit. "Do you have any cider, my good sir? I've got the bits to pay for it."

It turned and craned its neck to the saddlebag on its right flank. With deft use of its muzzle, it opened the flap and rooted inside, soon drawing forth a small cloth pouch that clinked softly when it hit the surface of the bar. It then nosed the pouch open and pulled out a silver coin pinched between its front teeth, which it laid carefully before the barman before gathering up the pouch again by its strings and flipping it back into the saddlebag.

As Lars peered down at the silver coin, marked on its face with the profile of a unicorn wearing a small tiara in front of a crescent moon and star, the creature reached up with its fore hooves and grasped the sides of its sallet, lifting it off of its head and setting it gently down on the bar beside it. A pair of large, intelligent, amber colored eyes looked expectantly up at the grizzled barman, a shock of midnight blue mane plastered down to the broad forehead by sweat and the weight of the helmet. It gave him a weary smile.

Lars gave a curt nod and slid the coin across the scratched surface of the bar and into one of the pockets of his apron. He turned and stepped up to one of the kegs along the wall, filling the flagon in his hand with a dark golden liquid that smelled faintly of apples, raisins, clove and cinnamon. "One cider, comin' up."

As he set the sweet libation down in front of it, the creature's smile widened as it looked up from the flagon to him, a note of gratitude to be heard in its scratchy voice. "Thank you kindly, sir."

At that it was suddenly racked with a fit of coughing, causing it to raise one of its hooves to its mouth and avert its muzzle. It turned back to him with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I've been breathing trail dust all day on the king's highway from Stopton. I'm a little hoarse."

Lars nodded laconically, returning the creature's smile with a kindly smirk of his own. "I can see that."

He leaned amiably on the bar as the small equine fished in its other saddlebag and produced a lacquered reed which it lowered into the flagon and began to drink. "So what brings you to Wayford, Mister…"

After a pause as the blue furred creature closed its eyes and licked its lips with a contented sigh, it returned his gaze. "Buckberry."

A bold smirk spread across the equine's expressive little face. "I'm just a wandering stallion at arms, looking for adventure and fortune. More the latter than the former, but whatever comes along first is fine with me."

____________________________________

The Ponies of Equestria are an odd breed of sentient, magical equine who live in a highly civilized yet bucholic fashion comparable to that of halflings and elves. They come in three distinct types, the most common being known as Earth Ponies who are renowned for their strength and industriousness, the winged Pegasus Ponies, and the magically gifted Unicorn Ponies.

While generally content to live in their own idyllic kingdom, under the protection of a pair of patron sister goddesses associated with the sun and moon, many a pony of a more adventurous type has taken up the call of the open road and the thrill of treasure hunting, and have been slowly spreading across the wider world.

Common features shared by all types of Equestrian Ponies are a small size, about four feet at the shoulder for the very largest specimens, and bright coats, manes, and tails of a wide range of colors, often in combinations not found in the rest of the natural world. They are notably equine, but with a much more rounded and delicate appearance, with large, expressive, forward looking eyes set in short muzzled faces.

Equestrian Ponies are peace loving and friendly and tend to have good relations with civilized neighbors, especially when Pegasus Ponies and their weather controlling abilities are present. Earth Ponies get along famously with halflings, and often more adventuresome specimens of both races will partner up, with the halfling riding their equine ally into battle like miniaturized heavy cavalry. (This is viewed as adorable by many foes, up until a lance held at crotch level is encountered, followed by a thorough stomping by four tiny, iron shod hooves.) Elves have a special affinity for Unicorn Ponies and often mingle with them in study and song.

The chaotic races of humanoids and evil monsters universally loathe Equestrian Ponies and often consider them a delicacy. Trolls in particular will attack Equestrian Ponies on sight. The gentle demeanor of the Equestrian Ponies belies their courageous nature, and they will fight back fiercely if attacked. More often than not they will not be alone in their battles, as their almost magical ability to make friends means they have many allies.

Equestrian Ponies speak the Common tongue, their alignment language, and a language used by all types of ponies known as Poneise, which sounds to most listeners rather like Common spoken by a small horse with a mouth full of cake frosting. Unicorn Ponies often can speak Draconic, with just enough facility that most dragons can resist the urge to pinch their little cheeks and tell them how precious they sound, which can be anything from annoying to downright terrifying depending on the age and size of the dragon in question.

CUTIE MARKS:
All Ponies who come of age are marked by a special pictograph that appears by magic on their flanks. This is referred to among them as a "cutie mark" (albeit grudgingly by the males, who would prefer something a bit less effeminate). This mark carries with it a special talent that manifests when the Pony in question realizes their true calling. This ability is in addition to any other abilities gained from the pony's subtype. Roll once on the following table when creating an Equestrian Pony character.

CUTIE MARK GENERATION TABLE:
01: Detect traps on 2 in d6 if actively looking.
02: Detect hidden gemstones on a 2 in d6
03: Detect poison on a 1 in d6
04: Hard bargainer, can get 3/4 value back for resold equipment rather than half.
05: Can predict changes in weather up to four hours in advance on a 2 or less on a d6.
06: Detect fresh water on a 2 or less on d6
07: Detect lies told in presence on a 2 or less on d6 if actively listening for them.
08: Detect secret doors on a 1 in d6 if actively looking.
09: Pony is unusually sure footed, and can maintain their balance even on slick or treacherous surfaces without any move penalty. They're also excellent skaters.
10: Choose a basic crafting skill like baking or knitting or dressmaking. The pony is able, given time and proper facilities, to take 1d20 gp per day and double it producing and selling the results of their labor. Weapons and Armor are not available crafting abilities for this, although other forms of smithing may be.
11: Detect presence of magic in general area on a 1 in d6. Cannot pinpoint this magic unless pony is a Unicorn Pony.
12: Kind demeanor adds a -2 to reaction checks from creatures of animal intelligence.
13: Pony knows 1d4 additional languages. Draconic and Elvish are most common, but others may be available per the campaign world.
14: Forage for enough food to feed up to 4 companions for the day in wilderness areas on a 2 or less in d6
15: Pony may cast a very weak Charm Person effect once per day. The subjects of this Charm may make checks to resist every hour. Doesn't work on actively hostile foes. Subjects of this ability will find themselves going along with what the pony wants despite their better judgement, especially if the pony starts whining.
16: Sound of the pony's laughter allows second save vs. Fear based effects to all allies within earshot.
17: Natural healing ability, may heal 1d4 points of damage to one creature once per day.
18: Twitching premonitions of danger, this pony is only surprised on a roll of 1 on a d6, and gives their group a -1 bonus to surprise rolls.
19: Pony can cause a mild form of Confusion by raising a patter of rapid fire speech at the intended target, causing them to forget to attack or take an intended action for each round the pony prattles at them. The victim may make a Save vs. Spell to break loose from this effect. Victims get a -2 to their save if they can actually understand and think about what the pony is saying to them.
20: A piercing stare that causes those fixed with it to suffer a +2 penalty to Morale checks and -1 to combat rolls. If the pony makes a Charisma check to verbally tell the foe off in a language they understand, they must make an immediate Morale check or flee. Creatures that use gaze attacks must succeed a Morale check to make such an attack on this pony.

EARTH PONIES:
REQUIREMENT: Con 9
Prime Requisite: Str
Hit Dice: d6
Maximum Level: 12

ABILITIES:
Earth ponies are immensely strong for their small size, and can carry loads of up to 300 lbs. without suffering any movement penalty. They may carry a maximum of 600 lbs. at a maximum rate of 60' a turn. They can wear any kind of armor but cannot use shields. They can also wield one handed melee weapons clenched in their teeth, although they suffer a -1 penalty to hit due to it being an ungainly form of attack. It is impossible for them to use bows or other ranged weapons.

Their preferred method of attack is a powerful kick with their hind legs, which can do 1d6 damage per hoof. (Roll an attack for each hoof) If both hooves connect on one target, they are forced to make a save vs. breath weapon or be knocked back 1d4X10 feet. Adventuring Earth Ponies may choose to purchase a special set of iron shoes that increase the damage to 1d8 per hoof. These cost 5 gp for a pair and add 6 lbs. to the amount of weight carried.

They may also use this buck attack to open doors on a 3 or less on a 1d6, with Strength bonus' applying. Any type of door may be opened this way, including magically held or locked doors.

Upon reaching 9th. level, an Earth Pony adventurer may petition their Princesses for a charter to found an outpost town in an unclaimed hex of wilderness. Once the surrounding territory is tamed, ponies of all three types will arrive to settle, setting up farms and orchards around a central village. The founder will be expected to defend and nurture their community, acting as its guardian with their goddess' blessing.

Earth Ponies use the Dwarf table for level advancement, and the Dwarf/Elf/Fighter/Halfling column of the combat matrix. They have their own set of saving throws, with emphasis on their physical hardiness giving them high resistance to poisons and body altering magics like petrification and polymorph.

PEGASUS PONIES:
REQUIREMENT: Dex 9
PRIME REQUISITE: Dex
Hit Dice: d4
Maximum Level: 12

ABILITIES:
These flying ponies are some of the fleetest creatures in the air, with a magical bond to wind and weather. They are capable of flying at a speed of 480' per turn (160' per round), and are extremely maneuverable, able to attain these speeds even in dungeon tunnels and narrow spaces due to their small size. A pegasus pony is capable of entering and withdrawing from melee combat without suffering an attack to do so, so long as they have movement to do so.

A pegasus pony only takes half damage from falling from any height. While they are too small and weak to carry any riders, they may attempt to rescue allies from falls with a successful attack roll, followed by a Save vs. Death. The distance of the fall is reduced by the difference between roll and target number X 10.

These creatures are capable of walking on any mass of cloud, mist or vapor that is thick enough to obscure vision as if it were solid (albeit spongy) ground.

Their preferred method of attack is a kick with their hind legs, which does 1d4 per hoof. They may wear iron shoes to increase this to 1d6, but tend to disdain such hoofwear as it weighs them down. They may make a buck attack against masses of cloud or vapor, dispersing a 10X10' area in a round. The hooves of a Pegasus Pony can strike creatures from the elemental plane of air for damage without penalty, even if the creature in question possesses resistance to normal weapons.

This speed and maneuverability comes at a cost of the strength of their earth bound kin, and they are incapable of flight if encumbered. Armor heavier than light leather barding restricts their wings and thus they cannot wear it. (The royal guards of Equestria's ruling sisters wear enchanted plate mail that is almost weightless, and are hoof picked for their unusual size and strength.) They can carry and use one handed melee weapons in their mouths, with a -1 penalty due to its ungainliness, preferring light blades like daggers or short swords.

Upon reaching 9th. level, Pegasus Ponies can petition their Princesses to build a stronghold in the sky that tends to drift over a designated (usually friendly) area of land. Pegasus ponies will soon arrive to settle, creating their homes out of the stuff of clouds. The skylord will often be allied with friendly airborne creatures, and since a community of Pegasus Ponies can control the weather out to 20 miles radius, they are often courted for friendly relations by the lands below them.

Pegasus Ponies use the Halfling table for level advancement, and the Dwarf/Elf/Fighter/Halfling column of the combat matrix. They have their own set of saving throws, that emphasize their ability to dodge and maneuver, giving them high saves vs. breath weapons and wands.

UNICORN PONIES
REQUIREMENT: Int 9
PRIME REQUISITE: Int and Wis
Hit Dice: d4
Maximum Level: 12

ABILITIES:
A highly magical breed from an already magical race, the horned unicorn ponies are exalted even among the egalitarian society of Equestria. They are capable of casting spells in a similar fashion to Elves and Magic Users, up to the 9th. level of ability. This magic is focused on their horn, which glows brightly when in use. Spells up to 2nd. Level do not need to be memorized, and may be chosen at will on the fly up to the Unicorn Pony's slots per day for spells of those levels. Spells of 3rd. level and higher are studied and memorized from spellbooks in the same fashion as other Magic Users.

In addition, they exhibit a low power form of Telekinesis that they can use at will to lift and manipulate small objects up to 10 pounds at a radius of 5' around their horn, which glows with a soft light when they use this ability. They may manipulate one object at a time, with additional objects for each +1 granted by high Wisdom.

Unicorn Ponies may wear any kind of armor and wield any shield or weapon with their telekinesis, provided their wisdom allows it. (i.e. Two handed weapons like pole arms or bows require that they be skilled enough with their magic to manipulate more than one object at once.)

They may also choose to kick with their hind legs for 1d4 per hoof (1d6 if they are wearing iron shoes) or stab with their horn for 1d4 damage. (This latter attack is only done in desperation, as damage or severing of their horn can cause them to lose their magical abilities.)

Upon reaching 9th. level, Unicorn Ponies can petition their Princesses to establish a town on a hex of settled land. These towns attract Equestrian Ponies of all kinds, with higher populations of Unicorn Ponies. More often than not, such communities will establish a college of magic, where mages of all species are welcome to study and exchange theory and practical applications of magic. This high concentration of magic makes them a very tough nut for chaotic raiders to try and crack.

Unicorn Ponies use the Elf table for level advancement, and the Cleric/Thief column on the combat matrix. They have their own set of saving throws, that reflect their natural magical nature and resistance to such effects.

These class' are hereby designated as Open Game Content via the Open Game License. My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic is copyright © Hasbro Inc. This article implies no claim on said copyright and is done without permission in the spirit of fun, love, and tolerance.

Happy Independence Day!

2011-07-04T18:04:00.001-07:00

God Bless America!

Happy Canada Day!

2011-07-01T10:08:00.000-07:00

Whither LL at Paul's?

2011-05-15T17:35:00.001-07:00

Well, sadly as is the way with all good things, it had to come to an end.

The game company that Paul, and all of the other players in the campaign, work for was moving to another city about an hour to the south of where we were, and I also had just changed locations for my job, which made the commute out too long and onerous for a weekly game. I was driving about a half hour as it was, but this would have put it into the hour/hour+ range which was just too much for three hours play.

That's just the way it goes when you're a grownup gamer. The groups are just a bit more ephemeral 'cos of jobs and moves and suchlike. Paul and his lovely wife Jenn are still in decent proximity such that I'll see 'em on special occasions, and we're all heading out to Gen Con for our seventh go at that particular institution as a group.

Anyway, that means also that posting on this blog's gonna become a bit more sporadic. Don't get me wrong, I ain't shutting down, its just that I've not got as much grist for the mill right now.

I just wanna say one more time a big thanks to Paul for running such a great game, and to all the 10d gamers (now no longer at 10d, which was a vague reference to Paul's old address which I shant make any less vauger) it was a blast playing with you guys, and I hope we get opportunities to do so again in the future.

Now onward, as the strains of Deacon Silver's silver stringed mandolin play into the sunset.

HelgaCon IV: Into the Forgotten Realms

2011-05-15T17:18:00.000-07:00

Well, we're getting along to about a month and a half since this whole awesome mini-con went down, so I should get off of my procrastination station and wrap this sucker up.

The final game in the weekend's procession of delights was another tournament style D&D game run by the inestimable Paul who until recently was also my weekly DM in the Labyrinth Lord game (more on that in another post, although it's nothing beyond a shift in proximity that made me unable to participate in those).

Paul and Delta both covered this event in pretty good detail here and here. So I'll pretty much just go with the highlights, as I dimly remember them.

I played a wizard, of the more utilitarian type with spells more suited to dungeoneering rather than slam bang combat. He was fun to play, but the real role playing kudos go to Delta and our thief/scout, who won the MVP for the session and the prize, a vintage Dragon Magazine (#95) which contained the adventure Paul ran. (I was glad someone else won it, 'cos I've already got that issue.)

I remember one particularly "metal" encounter, with the party wizard plinking magic missiles at a giant bat while the thief crouched on a floating square in the middle of a giant underground chasm. I was seriously envisioning every cheezy Meatloaf album cover or Endless Quest book cover in the middle of that one, and it was AWESOME! Shooting what were essentially lazers (with a Z) at a giant evil bat in a huge cave is what it's all about.

I had a player panic when we encountered the lich, and I immediately remembered the Dragon module and at least some of the facts around the situation. The classic Jim Holloway illustration sprang instantly to mind. (One of the unfortunate side effects of being a visual guy. Visual images are like tabs in my internal database.) I had to slip Paul a note to ask how I should proceed, 'cos I had what was possibly unfair player knowledge. (Heck, I even tried to drag one of Paul's brothers in to take my place.) He ruled I should just keep my yap shut and play in passive mode for the rest of the encounter, which came out okay. Still, I'd never had that happen before. I own the "Against the Giants" modules, and have been purposely avoiding reading them 'cos I want to be unbiased when Delta runs 'em. Otherwise, most of the gaming I've done is from home made scenarios, or at least from module lifts that A: I haven't read or B: are cut loose and stirred into the mix of a broader campaign without much fanfare. I think that's one of the reasons I prefer homebrew to packaged any day of the week.

But all in all, it was a good wrapup, where we all enjoyed one final game on a sunny Sunday, before we packed up our stuff, put the tables back in place, and headed in our separate directions until next year.

Viva HelgaCon!

HelgaCon IV: The Fallen Obelisk - Analysis

2011-05-08T20:40:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been over a month since I ran this thing, so I don't have too much to talk about.

Delta and Paul once again put their best feet forward (complete with curly toed slipper) as the Jarib brothers. Their write ups of the session can be viewed here and here.

That's not to give short shrift to all the other players. (Seven in total, a lucky number indeed since there were no fatalities in a very dangerous delve.) You guys were all great to play with, and hopefully you all can visit the drifting sands of Sanduk Ramul again someday.

Overall, I was very happy with this session. The players seemed a bit slow to act at first, which I'll chalk up to sleep deprivation and a rich meal of traditional Helgacon chili provided by the inestimable Mr. G moments before.

They soon picked up the slack as they got deeper into the catacombs. Good, solid dungeon crawling and all the attendant thrills and chills.

While the map and orrerry didn't really fall into either the "action" or "loot" categories, I was still happy about including it as it gave the players a little more insight into the campaign world, which could become important someday. Who knows?

I was totally jazzed to get to run the chess game with the genie, as it was one of the showpieces of the mini sandbox I'd created. (Also, what's an Arabian Nights themed game without a genie. I ask you?)

The way I set up the mechanic, the player's intelligence was their equivalent to a fighter level, their armor class was 20 - their wisdom, and we played out a combat doing 1d6 dmg per hit with 16 HPs, for the 16 chess pieces, on either side.

The games were remarkably close, and very tense indeed, all while I got to turn on the deep voiced menace of this powerful elemental creature.

The other awesome upshot of this session was the continuing adventures of the Jarib brothers, which its forming up shall indeed continue in more sessions to come, turning this into a very slow motion campaign, which puts the "Awwww YEAH!" in Awesome! Maybe someday they'll work out who really owns that spear, but probably not, knowing those two...

I look forward to finding out in many more sessions. Helgacon V at the absolute latest.

Until next time, sim sim, salabim!

HelgaCon IV: The Thousand Year Sandglass - The Fallen Obelisk

2011-05-08T18:40:00.000-07:00

Hearken ye to yet another tale of the Thousand Year Sandglass.

It is said by some that fortune favors the bold. That is as may be, but at times it does not favor the bold's purses.

Thus, did the scoundrel brothers, Jiri and Hakim Jarib, find themselves bereft of the fortune bought by a pair of solid gold hands they had bourne out of the deep deserts by dint of bad bargains and untrustworthy paramours.

And thus, did the brothers resolve to trek into the wastes once more to retrieve the golden statue that they had hacked these treasures away from, in an inversion of the fate that befalls all thieves in our land.

Ho ho ho! But this errand came to naught, as when they returned to the place they had chanced upon their fleeting prize, they found the mighty tombs of the ancient tetrarchs swallowed up by the very sands of the desert itself.

Ever the enterprising rogues, the brothers returned to Kalabad and hatched a new scheme to plunder the riches of old. It had come to them that across the Wailing Desert, there lay a fallen obelisk, a toppled monument to a once mighty sorcerer pharoh, who's very name was now forgotten to history as is the way of all glory.

After purchasing a mule with the last of their money, they gathered about them a band of adventurers to go forth to this forsaken ruin and search for new treasures.

Among these bold plunderers were another set of brothers, Adaman'elderie and Smiling Rashid, two of the jann race, in who's veins flowed the blood of the jinn. Two masters of magic also joined the group, a magician known as Muharrem Atan, and a sha'ir who went by the name Assid of the Shade, about who's head hovered a bound djinnling. Finally, a furtive kedai named Ahaz completed the group.

After a long trek across the Wailing Desert, the band of adventurers approached the valley of the fallen obelisk under the lambent glow of a full moon in the desert night, picking their way down a dried out river bed that led to the foot of the ruin.

They approached the oval doorway set in the face of the base of the obelisk, noting a pair of shining silver shields adorned the set of carven wings flanking the opening. After some uncertainty while they appraised the entry, they finally plucked up their courage and went inside.

Within, they found an expanse of sand blown in by millenia of drifts, flanked by stairs onto a platform above, in which they found three doorways. The doors were of much weathered wood, and bore carvings. In the center, a handsome prince in the kilt and crown of the ancients, to his right a priestess, to the left, a fair princess, both raising hands in supplication to their ruler.

Some prodding beneath the sand revealed a bronze hatch in the floor, a circular plate with a seam running down the center. While his companions puzzled over this mystery, Ahaz the kedai, with his natural feline curiousity, began to poke around the doors. Age made them crumble easily to his touch, and he investigated the chambers beyond.

On the right, behind the door bearing the carving of the priestess, he found a carpet of black shelled scarab beetles that scattered at his footfall, causing him to withdraw in haste with a prodigious backward leap. When his companions looked inside with a torch, they found denuded, scattered bones, and the remains of what may have been a place of embalming.

Moving on to the left hand door, he discovered a chamber with an ankle high layer of lurid green vapors. At their center, a raised dias with a seated mummy wearing a gold funerary mask depicting a woman of surpassing beauty. To either side of the corpse were alabaster statues of slave girls, one holding a tortoise shell lyre, and the other a scroll case. The beauty of human features was lost on him, but the beauty of the pure gold was not, and he reached out to take the bauble in hand.

Alas, that when he did so he set the tomb's ancient guardian into motion. The bronze disk parted, and there arose a skeletal figure of brass, its four spindly arms each bearing a blade of terrible sharpness. It turned its head with a mechanical motion and approached the adventurers, and they knew they faced that most fearsome of ancient devices, which learned men of our time know as "The Doom of Thieves".

With its four blades whirling like the wind, it joined in battle with the jann brothers and the brothers Jarib. When they found that none but blades imbued with sorcery would harm the murderous construct, Jiri prevailed upon Hakim to lend him his magic spear while he fought on with his enchanted scimitar. Thus did the brave plunderers best the artifice of doom, and thus did begin an epic and prolonged argument between the two siblings as to whom the family inheritance had bestowed the mystic weapon that raged for the duration of their sojourn.

The third, central, door yielded as easily as the others had, and revealed a long, sloping downward corridor into the depths of the earth. Down below, they could see a dim red glow, which made them all a bit fearful, but they steeled their courage and went down.

Upon reaching the bottom, their footsteps put to fright the large, red glowing beetles that rustled among the piled bones of many an unfortunate looter who had been hacked to pieces and cast down into the depths by the Doom of Thieves. They gingerly picked their way over the skeletal remains and approached a stone door accompanied by a lever. This they activated, causing the door to recede smoothly into the floor and revealing a strange room beyond.

The walls were carved with magical glyphs, and in the north end they saw a circle of carved scarabs each facing an odd little depression in the floor. Three of these depressions held strange little jars, each lined with silver and containing an odd, sparkling blue mist. In the center of the circle, a sluggish cloud of vapor hung, with the vague impressions of a skull and scattered bones made of thickened smoke drifting in the haze. The sha'ir and the two jann brothers recoiled in horror, as they recognized it as the corpse of a djinni.

They did not ponder this for long, for also as the sha'ir, janni, and magician entered the room, they felt an odd tugging at the core of their beings, and felt their magic beginning to drain away. This put them to flight, and they hurried out of the room to an archway beyond, lest all of their power be drained.

Thus it was left to the three adventurers who did not traffic in the mystic arts to explore the chamber. They found a low couch in a corner with a hookah that was built to hold the odd, silver lined jars, and an alcove containing racks with a few more of the strange containers.

Bearing these back to the others, after some experimentation it was discovered that through imbibing the smoke from this device, they might regain the magic that had been taken from them.

Hakim Jarib tried a few puffs himself, and discovered to his confusion and delight that he was bourne off of the ground and could fly hither and yon as does the falcon over the high desert. His joy at this turn of fate was short lived, as his brother Jiri strengthened his claim upon the magic spear citing that Hakim had all the luck.

Thus the flying Jarib brother was sent on ahead scouting, as the rest of the group followed him down the corridor.

They came upon a glorious room with a mosaic of gold and precious gems along one wall, depicting alabaster maids cavorting by a lapis lazuli stream. The floor was a diamond grid of sandstone, with several old, dark stains, matching a lattice of holes in the ceiling.

This, of course, roused suspicion in the seasoned tomb raiders to the very core of their bones, so they passed the chamber by, ignoring also several large clay amphora that lay half buried in the wall to their left at the end of the hall.

The group came to a T junction, with a set of stairs to the north and a long dark corridor to their south. The flying Hakim agreed to scout up the stairway, which was set with golden scarabs in the faces of the steps. At the top, lay a mound of desert sand, which alarmingly took the form of a hulking, man like shape and lunged at the warrior as he flew overhead. Greatly perturbed, Hakim fled to his fellows and they ducked back the hall, while the thing settled back into the seeming of a harmless mound of sand.

Deciding to plumb safer depths, they headed south, and discovered a sculpted map of the ancient sorcerer king's domain, with fertile rivers of lapis lazuli and green fields of malachite, and beyond this, and even more amazing wonder, an orrery of marble and bronze, a great sandglass with magically glowing replicas of the sun and moon moving about its center on brass arms.

At the base of the hourglass, they recognized the very geography of the world that they themselves had worn out many a sandal traversing, with the Mount of Ages sitting at the center, its peak reaching toward the heavens. Above, in the upper chamber, a vast kingdom with a deep chasm at its center. Atop the hourglass, a dome of brass with a magnificent city at its crest.

Marvelous as these things were to see and ponder, they were also difficult to shove in a satchel and carry back to Kalabad to sell at the Bazaar of Innumerable Delights, so the band of adventurers quit this area and drew their plans to do battle with the sand monster.

After setting up an ambuscade for the creature down the hallway, the warriors challenged the thing by climbing the stairs and calling out jibes and insults. The living dune stirred to life and surged down the steps after them.

With a clever combination of fighting retreat and the artifice of an illusion in the likeness of a wildly gesticulating lunatic, they led it down the hall into the room of the mosaic, where it fell afoul of the rain of barbed spears on chains that fell from the ceiling, confirming their suspicion that it was indeed trapped.

Alas, their satisfaction at outwitting their fearsome foe was short lived, as spears of mere bronze matter little to a creature of living sand, and it boiled out of the room with a hiss. They stood and faced it at the T junction, striking with their magic swords and spear (of contentious ownership).

The battle became desperate as the thing engulfed one of their number in its sandy body, forcing them to strike its imprisoned victim as well as it. Bravely they fought on, forcing it to disgorge their comrade by unrelenting blows. Finally, the sand collapsed at their feet as mere sand, bereft of the spark of sorcerous life that had animated it.

Ascending the stairs, they came upon a bronze door inscribed with a scarab and ancient glyphs. This they pried open, and beyond found a black marble chamber, supported by four kneeling statues of female figures bearing the heads of a vulture, a serpent, a hyena, and a jackal respectively. On a dias against the west wall, they found a black sarcophagus with an eye carved in the lid, set with a large, glittering moonstone.

As they stepped into the room, the face of the sarcophagus slid downward into the floor, revealing a towering mummy of terrifying aspect, who stepped forward and began to chant an invocation to dark powers.

Through the most blessed of luck Muharrem Atan the magician bore a scroll for fending off the undead, which he used to stop the undead sorceror king from advancing upon them as they hurled spears and javelins at him. Weakened, he was quickly cut down by the mystically endowed weapons of the warriors, as they continued their bitter argument over the ownership of the spear.

As they searched the chamber, finding only meager riches scattered about in what should be a glittering treasure room, they discovered a hidden door in the back of the sarcophagus. This, they opened, and revealed an amazing sight beyond.

Here, in a room festooned with silks and fine tapestries, was piles of incredible wealth, towering stacks of ancient gold and silver, and gems without number. At the center, his heavy brow knit in concentration over a chess board of gold and obsidian sitting atop a block of granite, was a squat figure with basalt for skin and glossy black hair, with teeth like tusks of ivory. He sat cross legged, in pantaloons of rust colored silk and a gold brocaded kilt, stroking a short beard thoughtfully, looking up sharply as the group entered. With a faint smile bending the cruel line of his lips, he spoke to them in a voice like the rumbling of deep caverns in the language of the jinn.

"Ah, the old bag of bones loses by forfeit. One more pretty for the pile." And with that, he plucked a gold coin off of a nearby stand with a sharp clawed finger, and tossed it over his shoulder onto the mound of gleaming metal behind him. With eyes glittering like greedy diamonds, he smiled to them. "Mayhap thou mortals wouldst fancy a game?"

And thus did it befall the party of adventurers that they entered into a game of very high stakes with the dao Balakk, who had been bound millenia ago as chess companion for the undead sorceror king in his tomb below, where the wily elemental had been gambling the dead ruler out of his grave goods over the long centuries.

Pushing the wisest among them to the front, they played through two long, difficult games, winning by narrow margins both times, much to the dao's smoldering anger. Sensing the delicacy of their situation, despite winning great sums of gold from the ancient creature, they turned to diplomacy, inquiring that perhaps they might do him some service for being such a good sport about losing two games to a mere mortal.

This may indeed have saved them, for although his wrath was unquenched, his dao instinct for bargains took hold, and he secured their promise to gain his release from the service he was bound to. (The destruction of the mummy had not freed him, for his chess opponent of all the long years had been dead already.) He told them of a cave in the nearby cliffs known as the Redoubt of the Slayers, wherein may be found a mystic scroll that would secure his release from bondage.

As they said their farewells and set out from the tomb, he warned them, still seething from his losses, that a bargain entered with one dao was known to all dao as soon as it was struck, and thus should they take it into their fool mortal heads to default, that not even their graves would provide them safety from his clan's revenge.

And so, much richer but with much upon their minds, did the adventurers quit the catacombs beneath the Fallen Obelisk and set out across the sands of the Wailing Desert once more.

What befell them next, o honored reader, is a tale for another time.

HelgaCon IV: Spirit of the Century - King Solomon's Mines

2011-04-17T19:06:00.000-07:00

My third session at this year's Helgacon was a "Spirit of the Century" game run by Mr. F.

Spirit of the Century is an interesting game, which uses "fudge dice", which are a quartet of six siders that can give you plus, minus, or neutral results, and relies of the application of "aspects", which are qualities applied to either the scene being played or intrinsic to your character. Thus combats and other situations are more a process of negotiation between player and referee as to what aspects can apply, and less about pure number crunching. It's a much more "improv" style game, and I found it a lot of fun to play.

The situation as laid out was that we were a group of explorers embarking on an expedition into the heart of "darkest Africa" to find the fabled mines. The party consisted of an Alan Quartermain inspired "Great White Hunter", a professorial type expert in antiquities, a burly, hard drinking Scottish mechanic, a Kabalistic rabbi (played by yours truly), and the very prim and proper princess of a lost nation of sentient gorillas.

There were three main set pieces laid before us by our inimitable GM.

The first was a party at the Italian embassy, which was a particularly fascinating example of "social combat". Mr. F laid out two sliding scales, one that tracked how much the cat got let out of the bag about what we were doing in Africa, and one that gauged how much opposition we were in for (from none through cover sabotage all the way to outright jeep loads of soldiers gunning for us).

The rabbi invoked his "You can't say "mazel tov" without a drink in your hand" aspect to keep the opposition liberally greased with booze, while our professor got into a high stakes card game with an enemy agent in grand "Casino Royale" style, while the princess ensnared the Italian governor out on the dance floor with her simian wiles.

At the end of it all, the bad guys had largely figured out our mission, though we managed to glean some info from them as well, especially about the untrustworthiness of a femme fatale who was working the crowd that night, and we kept the opposition on a low level.

We rapidly segwayed to a riverboat voyage down the White Nile, where we passed into the pocket empire run by the usurper Gorilla Khan, who made an all out, all ape attack on the vessel to take out the princess as a potential rival to his rule.

There ensued a lot of monkey punching. Our bwana hunter's faithful guide and sidekick got carried off by gorillas, and the princess got worked over pretty good, but we managed to chase the rotten apes off through a lot of crack shooting, invocations of King Solomon's ancient authority befuddling our apish attackers (my own contribution to the fight), wardrobe malfunctions from the princess, and liberal blows with a monkey wrench from our stout engineer. Of course, by the time the smoke cleared, the riverboat was careening out of control, and ran aground outside our destination city (which I can't quite remember right now) forcing us to hoof it.

The final set piece was a confrontation in a jungle clearing with a bunch of pygmies led by a maniacal female shaman who was invoking dark powers to curse us. The rabbi used the mystical artifact book he carried to block her evil influence by invoking one of the names of YHWH, and was struck dumb as a side effect. The battle culminated in the appearance of a MECHANICAL DINOSAUR that turned out to be one of the ancient golems that guarded Solomon's mines. We beat the thing by our engineer character luring it to a cliff edge and then going down it's throat fighting as it bounded over and fell to its destruction.

It was okay, though. He came strolling into camp brushing the dust off of his sleeves the next morning. I guess after Nessie, any other dinosaurs were just pale imitations.

From there, we regrouped and headed in toward the fabled location of the mines, only to find the femme fatale from the party waiting for us with a squad of enemy zepplins. And on that cliffhanger note, we ended.

All told, it was a rollicking session, and Mr. F knows how to run a good game.

I'll admit, I got a little too rambunctious a couple of times and started bossing other players around about what aspect they should use, especially during the gorilla fight, for which I apologized at the end. I just got really into it. No excuse for being bossy boots, tho.

The overall flow of the session was interesting because it compared to my morning session of Mutant Bastards with regard to the question "What do you do when you have a lot of material and only four hours to use it." In my case, it felt like a first session that got cut off before things could really get rolling.

In Mr. F's case, he had arranged it such that elements could be dropped or included as necessary. While there was a sense that there was more that could be dwelt on, and that this could easily expand to several weeks play if done long form, the "accordion style" where the narrative was compressed to fit the time worked pretty well.

It was a satisfying session, and he got to use the set pieces he was the most excited about. I think this is a good idea for running con style games. Be willing to jettison non-essentials so that the main features get covered.

So overall, a good afternoon's gaming, with a lot of interesting play in a system that's very different than the usual shape of tabletop RPG's. Thanks to my fellow expeditioneers, and to Mr. F for running it.

Mazel tov!

HelgaCon IV: Mutant Bastards - Analysis

2011-04-17T18:16:00.000-07:00

The infamous Cap'n Grakk, just furious that he and his pirate crew
never got to make a showing in the Helgacon IV session that bore their name.

Overall, this was a fun first run for my homebrew "Mutant Bastards" game rules, and the players seemed to enjoy themselves, so on that front I'd call it a success. The system didn't crash, and performed as well as I could hope for a largely experimental ruleset.

As a Con style game, however, I think this session left a lot to be desired. What it really felt more like was the first session of a longer campaign, which in and of itself is cool, but since the format for Helgacon is just one four hour game, this meant it didn't meet the spec.

The biggest hang up was that I'd underprepared for the character creation phase, which thus took way longer than it ought to have. Choosing mutations relied on a special deck of cards, of which I only had one to share among six players, as well as a single copy of the tables that translated their draws. That would be the primary logistical error.

The other thing that changed this from an adventure to an extended introductory session was my decision to start the characters out with nothing, and have them equip themselves from stuff they found on the slave barge. This, in and of itself, went well, and by the end of it the players had explored the barge thoroughly and each had ended up with a pretty cool, fairly personalized kit salvaged from the dead slavers. (Heck, even Lechmere the adorably horrible (and horribly adorable) giant tick got himself a guy to ride around.)

This was all to the good, all things considered, but it would have been nice to get them into more situations where they might be able to use that equipment. As it panned out, there was only time for one random encounter (i.e. the battle with the strangles) before we had to wrap.

So I guess my take away from this is twofold.

First, for con games, if you're going to include character creation, streamlining it is vital. Normally, I'd probably go with pre-gens, but in Gamma World (and by extension Mutant Bastards, which is it's heavily mutated offspring) the character creation is a large part of the fun. Seeing what sort of freakish combination you get is one of the charms of the system. Perhaps a middle ground, where everything but the mutations are already filled in would be good. Hmmm.

Second, a more in depth Mutant Bastards campaign seems to maybe be in order. I'll have to mull that one, since I'm not in a regular weekly game anymore. I prepared a lot of stuff for "The Pirates of Quar" that just didn't get used, so it wouldn't be that big a deal to fire it up proper. Maybe at least at a future Helgacon or some other Helga's Heroes event I might revive it.

We'll just have to see. Anyway, my hearty thanks go out once again to the players who joined me on the fen choked shores of Boss that fine weekend.

There shall be more where that came from, somehow, sometime. As long as we don't hit any Snags.

For the record: In post apocalyptic Boston, THIS is what's known as a Snag.
Thank your lucky stars I rolled Strangles on the encounter chart, players...

HelgaCon IV: Mutant Bastards - The Pirates of Quar

2011-04-10T20:07:00.000-07:00

They'd all been cooped up in these tiny cages for days, in the darkness and stench of the steerage of a slaver barge headed south. They each had their own story of how they'd ended up here, but it didn't much matter anymore. Whatever they were before, they were merchandise now.

There was barely room to move, and the slavers put old zap in the bars, that give a painful shock if touched and put those with minds full of powers into a state of disoriented numbness. A scoop of stinking meat paste a day has been their only food, served with more jabs of zap at the end of the first mate's hated sparky stick, followed by a hoseful of frigid bilge water to flush out the cages and keep their merchandise from dying of thirst before they got to market.

So they slept as best they could, preserving their strength for whatever fresh misery awaited, propped against a scrap of plastic tarp that was all that protected them from the zap in the bulkheads.

One day, they awoke to shouting and pounding feet above, followed by the sound of muskets firing, which in turn are followed by the roar of thunder brought down from the sky onto the water, with a sound like spoons tapping on the bulkheads and shrieks of pain and terror.

The barge listed, and they felt it lurching to port when to the sound of even louder thunder, so loud it shook the floor under their feet and caused their whole world to shift around. Those who had been caught off guard were thrown into the bars, and were shocked, or more truthfully not shocked, finding that the old zap didn't bite them this time. It was dead quiet up above, and the motley assembly of mutant freaks looked at one another in the dim darkness, and set to work breaking free.

Club was an augie, a human who's ancestors had been blessed in the genes by the ancients to be faster or stronger or tougher or smarter. In this case, it was tougher and stronger, as he reached up with his scarred hands and tore the weakly welded rebar cage that held him open like it was made of wire hangers.

Craw was some kind of mutated arthropod, probably with horseshoe crab in its ancestry judging from its flattened disk of a head, although from the shoulders down it had the arms, legs, and torso of something resembling a human, albeit covered in chitin and spines. This body it slipped ably between the bars of the cage after wedging its head through, compressing in ways no vertebrate could manage.

Aroma was a skunk about the size of a black bear, gifted with the natural weapons of her kind along with the power of speech. These didn't really help her get loose from her cage, and she spent a while gnawing ineffectually at the lock until Club came over and ripped the bars open for her.

Brother Frederick was a strange, wizened little man who'd fashioned a couple of burlap sacks into a robe and cassock, and who spoke reverently in his prayers to the almighty Atom. When the zap had left the bars and he could think straight again, he merely bowed his head, and in the blink of an eye later he was standing outside the cage, looking a bit dazed from the effort of willing all of his own atoms to be a couple of feet from where they once were without actually crossing the space.

Crowly was an odd fellow with a prounounced speech impairment, brought on by the eight feet of prehensile tongue he kept in his jaw. He had mind powers as well, but instead of teleporting outside his cage, he merely forced it open with raw telekinetic force.

Lechmere, as it would come to be known, was a tick the size of a serving platter, that scrabbled at its cage, squawking an assembly of perfect imitations of words that had been spoken in its presence into entreaties to be released. Not one to play favorites, Club came over and tore open its cage as well.

Once released, the liberated slaves set to work exploring their surroundings and collecting things they might find useful in further escapes. They found the locker where the mate kept his zap stick and the cans of meat paste, as well as a wealth of cargo in boxes in the hold beyond the slave pens.

Aroma and Lechmere ran toward the companionway forward and scratched at the hatch. They were unable to budge it until their universal opening tool, Club the augie, came barreling over to shove it open. The dead slaver that had been weighing it shut was rolled off, and the mutants climbed up onto the deck.

There, they found a scene of carnage, as the bodies of the barges crew lay strewn all about, done to death by what looked like the mother of all musket fusillades. The barge was run aground on a sandbar, and through the fog that surrounded them they could see the tall, leaf and vine festooned towers of an ancient city rising over the rustling green grasses of the fens.

This could be the fabled city of Boss, they marveled, or perhaps even Probiden. There was no way of knowing for sure until they made for shore.

So the odd assembly split up and began to search the barge for necessaries. From the crew they scrounged armor and weapons, and saw the grim fates of the slaver's leaders.

The quartermaster had been dashed against the crew's quarters in the forecastle, his head caved in from the force of hitting the corrugated metal of the quonset hut that had been lashed to the prow.

The bosun had been pinned like a bug to the wheelhouse with a harpoon thru the chest, leaving his well cared for musket and his prized club (a sawed off pool cue reinforced with hose clamps all down it's length) for Craw to claim.

The hated first mate had been burned beyond recognition, and they only knew it was him from the gaudy katana sword he carried with him at all times. Upon closer examination, it was found that the sword was of very poor quality, with a loose hilt and bits of thin gold flaking off of the sword's ornaments, revealing plastic underneath.

Aroma had been sniffing around the upper wheelhouse when she found the captain huddled beneath the barge's control panel. He was still alive, his usual crafty mein replaced by a dull, drooling stare. When she nudged him, all he would say was "Qua! Qua!".

As she lost interest and began to search the small cabin, Lechmere the tick came scuttling up the stairs and saw an opportunity. He climbed onto the captain's back, and carefully inserted special feelers in through the neck joints of the mariner's battered lobstah shell armor. The human stiffened and rose, as the huge tick took over his nervous system and began working it like a horrible puppet. He pulled his lips back in a rictus grin and introduced himself as Lechmere, using the captain's vocal chords to articulate what his own primitive voice box could not.

Creeped out but undeterred, the plucky mutant skunk continued her search, and found a pair of inflatable life rafts under the captain's bunk in the cabin. These she proceeded to drag down the steps with the Lechmere puppeted captain in tow. Club went up the steps to help her with the second ungainly bundle, and in doing so discovered an immaculate ax hanging from hooks on the wall of the cabin, with a double headed eagle engraved on the blades and a bright orange, high impact handle. This, truly, was a weapon of destiny meant for his hands.

Meanwhile, Crowley had used his telekinetics to haul the cargo in the hold up onto the deck, and had been busily rooting through the boxes and crates. He found many fine treasures, including an ancient battery powered device with a rotating chain for a blade. He too had discovered a weapon of destiny.

Once the little band had finished looting, they inflated the rafts and tossed them into the water, struggling a bit to leap into the bobbing platforms while loaded down with loot, but managing allright without losing anything. Aroma and Craw both volunteered to push the rafts by holding on and kicking, and so they set out toward the fog shrouded ruin to shore.

Of course, nothing ever goes as smoothly as one would like, and wouldn't you know they fell afoul of the strangles on their way in.

Here's what the learned heads of the college of Brand Eyes in the Walled City of Tham have to say about strangles: "This mutant form of kelp is extremely dangerous to swimmers and boat crews alike. These plants lurk near the bottom among dense vegetation, watching above them for anything that moves into their territory. If a likely target comes into view they will swim rapidly upward towards them, in a motion very similar to that of an octopus or jellyfish. They will then attempt to constrict the victim in their muscular fronds. When all the life is squeezed out of their prey, a Strangle will drag the body to the bottom and feed off of the decomposing corpse for several weeks with it's root tendrils. The central core body of a Strangle is roughly 1-2 feet in diameter, but the tendrils can extend out to 8 feet on larger specimens, and size is never an issue when it comes to their attacks. Since they operate in groups, several of these plants can benefit from a large kill, although theres no real communication or co-operation going on among them. Strangles have been known to attack boats, often jamming the propellers or intakes of motorized ones. While this may kill one or two, the remainder of what could loosely be called "the pack" become a serious threat to any hapless sailor sent down to clear the obstruction."

It was poor Aroma who first felt the searching tendrils wrap around her legs, and she let out a shriek. The others hastily pulled her aboard, slashing and chopping at her slithery attackers as she struggled to free herself. Club, who was in the raft pushed by Craw, pulled the mutant arthropod out of the water and carefully set him among the bundles so that his spines wouldn't puncture the raft.

It was Brother Frederick who came to the group's rescue, sending a powerful pulse of electricity through the water that scalded the strangles as they swished up towards the rafts. They managed to bludgeon and rip the stranded weed that had wrapped around Aroma until it stopped twitching, and tossed it's mangled remains over the side to be ripped asunder by others of its kind as the monstrous plants scattered for safer prey.

After they'd calmed themselves, the group set about making the rest of the way to shore, toward a large slab of duracrete they could see jutting thru the mist about a hundred feet away. The mighty Club bent some rebar into a crude grapple, adhered it to some webbing from Craw's spinnerettes, and tossed it ashore. Crowley followed suit, with his ability to perfectly mimic another's motions, and spinnerettes of his own providing the line.

As they pulled themselves onto the pier, they were greeted with accordion music and sea chanties, from a gruff looking humanoid clad in a yellow rain slicker and peaked cap.

He introduced himself as a priest of the waters, keeper of the Shrine of the Compass, and asked if they be pirates from the fortress of Quar, nodding darkly to an ill favored, angular structure that squatted on the ancient harbor, black smoke rising above it from numerous watch fires in its superstructure.

After some initial confusion as to what might be the best answer to give, the group of escaped slaves convinced him that they weren't pirates, which turned out to be the right answer.

And thus, the little band of mutants fell in among the peaceful but downtrodden Boat Folk, and their adventures among them wait to be told at another time, perhaps with an accordion accompaniment.

Editor's note: Some of the details here are a bit hazy for me in the hurly burly of the weeks following HelgaCon, so if any of the participants want to correct any errors, then please drop me a note and I'll fix it. Thankee.

HelgaCon IV: Glacial Rift of the Frost Giant Jarl

2011-04-03T19:08:00.000-07:00

Art by Julek Heller

HelgaCon IV started out with an Old School bang, with my good buddy Delta storming up from Brooklyn on the heels of the big April Fools blizzard with the classic D&D module "Glacial Rift of the Frost Giant Jarl" (G2 for those who are in the know (or in the snow) about that sorta stuff.) He'd run G1 "Steading of the Hill Giant Chief" last year, but I was too sick to play, dammit.

Not this year, tho. I was charged up and ready to rumble, and we had a real rip snort of a run at the forbidding ice cliffs and frozen tunnels of the evil frost giants' home base.

I won't give specifics of the layout and the stuff we found down there, due to the fact that that anyone into the Old School scene (or even those who ain't but who'd like a good adventure) ought to give this module and its companions a try, but overall it was an awesome session.

We settled pretty quickly into funny voices. My character, the mighty fighter Boris of Brainsk, kept up the intensity with a thick Russian accent, but the winner for hilarious dialogue has to go to our team leader and fellow fighter Mr. M's Pellinore-esque, quavery locution. (The best analog I can give is an older Peter O'Toole).

The team of six players, which included two fighters, a thief, a mage, a fighter/thief and a fighter/mage, also gelled pretty quickly as a tactical unit.

I think the best tactic we used was sending our scout, the thief Fedyeka, played by Ms. B, ahead with her elven cloak and boots to check our path, but not so far ahead she got in over her head. So my first pro-tip would be never send a scout farther ahead than their heavy support can run in a round if things go all monster shaped.

Another good use of our resources was using some elven cloaked fighters as cover for our mages if they needed to take point, rather than leaving them exposed to the giants and other ice based monsters that infested the rift.

The surprising tactical development was Mr. H's mage, who was armed with a Wand of Fireballs that he was a bit... overly keen to use. Delta had sought to make us pay for excessive kerploding by causing a cloud of blinding steam to form whenever we set one off, but a surprising tactical dividend appeared when we figured out we could use the steam cloud (and attendant slippery ground from the half melted floor) as an advantage against the complex's giant sentries, forcing them to charge us blind and giving 'em a face full of fury when they stumbled out of the mist. We were shooting +1 arrows and magic missiles and a few lightning bolts got tossed as well.

The fights were a hoot, a mixture of desperation, unintended zappings, and bad@ss giant slaying throwdowns.

Mr. M's fighter earned his sub-moniker as "The Valorous" by taking about three boulders to the head (or possibly more) thru the course of play. He was often in the lead, as referenced in my earlier comment about elven cloaked fighters as a defensive line, and he took a lot of the rocks. He stayed on his feet thru the whole thing, tho, so aside from the quavery voice he was solid steel otherwise.

As for me, I just enjoyed the heck out of hacking away at the big brutes with my magical sword Wyrdbreaker. (Which is werry hard to say with Russain accent.) I've never achieved a level thru normal play where frost giants could be considered a challenging but largely (no pun intended) handle-able foe, and it was pretty exhilerating to take the big snow goons out like we did. The battles were tense but extremely satisfying, and I think all told we racked up about fourteen kills against the forces of shaggy, walrus scented chaos.

We also roasted a lot of damn yetis.

On the down side, minor though it actually was as down sides go, in terms of the tournament scoring of the game we didn't do all that well. Our goals were to A: reconnoiter and find out what the giants were up to B: explore the rift and C: kill us some giants. We did good on points B & C, but not so much on A, which were the big ticket items, pointswise. We somehow managed to avoid several of the clues linking G2 to G3 and beyond, and got fished in by some red herrings to our detriment. So I think out of a possible 1200 pts we scored somewhere south of 200.

But no matter. I speak for myself, but I think I'm in the ballpark for everyone else that we had a grand old time, and avidly look forward to next year, when I'm guessing Delta's gonna turn up the heat on us in G3 (Hall of the Fire Giant King).

P.S.: Whoot! First for reals post HelgaCon IV Blog post! Lets see you guys pick up the slack, Delta and Paul! (And any other attendees who might have a blog. Send me a link if y'do!)

HelgaCon IV !

2011-04-03T18:38:00.000-07:00

Right!

Back from Helgacon, a wonderful weekend of doing something I love with people I love. I'll be posting about this all over the next couple weeks, as I lay out the solid gaming that went on in that crowded little house on the Cape this weekend. Right now, I'm a bit kerflutzed and not really too typographically loquacious, so all I can do is re-iterate the awesomeness of the people and the pastime we all enjoy. Extra special thanks goes to Paul for pulling most of the freight in getting this thing organized. Thanks to Delta, Paul, and Mr. F for running awesome games, and for all the players in my little offerings.

That's it for now. Gotta start planning for Helgacon V.

LL at Pauls: Contra Los Gigantes

2011-03-16T10:53:00.000-07:00

Weeeellllllll, okay.

Here's last week's mayhem report from the Labyrinth Lord campaign.

So when last we left our heroes, we'd befriended an ogre through the agency of Hearth the elf's Charm Person spell.

We proceeded to grill the big dope, with Frog translating from hobgoblin, which was the only language the ogre, who's name was Gug, seemed to understand. He informed us that there were more ogres on the next mountain over, about 12 of 'em. (Actually, we weren't at all sure if this were an accurate number or not, or whether "twelve" was just his go to number when asked for one.) What's worse, they apparently were led by a hill giant named Grag (I think.)

What's even worse, the party up and decided that we were gonna go up and mess with this settlement of big goons. The Deacon reluctantly agreed. While it would be good to clear out this brutish scourge, on the other hand having one's skull reduced to a fine paste isn't a good career move.

So up the mountain we trekked with Gug in the lead. Our doughty dwarf Wormfinder (first name still not recalled) was stoked about getting to hunt down and kill some giants, since slayin' monsters was kind of his deal.

We came to a stop midway up the indicated mountain, and saw a two story stone structure clinging to the side of the mountain, with what looked like a nine foot ogre ducking in thru the door as we crouched behind a boulder.

So we sat down and took stock. We'd slept thru the night, and thus had our spells fully kitted out. Both Hearth and our new mage K-something (again, sorry for my memory lapse) had Charm Person racked, with Mr. K also featuring Sleep. For his part, the Deacon had Hold Person.

So we proceeded to hatch a plan with our big pal Gug, wherein' he'd go up and lure one of his friends down with promises of food that he needed help lugging back to the house. It took a lot of explaining to get this basic idea across, but he nodded and went trundling up the hill, while we all hunkered down and tried to stay out of sight (and rock throwing range)

A few minutes later a total of four ogres came tromping back down the hill.

So much for math.

So the first thing we do is pop up the spellcasters and let fly with Hold Person and two Charm Persons. As a result one ogre froze in his tracks, two smiled and waved, and one raised his club and charged. Which meant that one of the mages' Charm Person spells didn't take.

Kashiim, Frog, and Wormfinder stepped up to take the bellowing brute on. I don't rightly recall the blow by blow, but it was a furious fight, with the home team taking some nasty klunks from the ogre's whuppin' log. We finally finished the big goon off just as Gug and the other ogre, who's name turned out to be Thok, came down to join us, demanding to know. "Why you fight?" as well as "Where food?" We spun a sophisticated deception wherein' the newly dead ogre had eaten it, and I think he bought it. There was not telling what Thok thought, he only spoke ogrish. *shrug*

While this joyous reunion with our "friends" was going on, things kinda took a slide for the alarming up the hill, as 12 feet of mean and b.o. stepped out of the house followed by four more ogres, drawn out by the tumult raging down the hill. They took one look, shouldered their clubs, and came down the hill for a little pancake party.

Nothing quite focus' the mind like several tons of angry, tree trunk wielding muscle bearing down on you, so we sprung into action.

Mr. K fired off his Sleep spell, mercifully sending three of the approaching ogres off to twist the heads off some sheep in dreamland.

Meanwhile, Hearth entreated Gug, through Frog's broken hobgoblinish, to defend us from Grag and his posse, who we told him had stolen the food. (Ah, what a tangled web we weave when we practice the stupid to deceive.)

Initially we had no idea if Thok got the gist or not, but we were much relieved when he and Gug picked up some big rocks and hucked 'em at their former comrades. Apparently Thok was an all star QB at Ogre U, 'cos he spiraled his rock and nailed one of his buddies in the gut for mucho damage.

Finally, their offense crashed into our defensive line, and the battle was joined. We were all dreading the blows of the giant's tree trunk club, which was the fantasy equivalent of getting nuked from orbit. He killed poor Gug in a fit of pique, and laid a whammy on Wormfinder that left the poor guy even shorter than he was.

Meanwhile, the mages took the opportunity to slip up the hillside and punctuate the sentences of the sleeping ogres with their little daggers.

Sensing kind of a theme here...

Things were looking pretty dicey, but we managed somehow to pull out a win. The Deacon had to heal up Wormfinder, and by golly if the little guy wasn't the one who finally took the giant down. (I think that's what happened. It might have been Frog or Half Klint, even. If I'm failing to properly credit who took out the giant, let me know.)

So flush from our victory, the Deacon laid some healing on those who needed it, and we went up to check out the house. I'm not quite recalling what we did with Thok. Maybe he got clubbed, or maybe we sent him for takeout.

Anyway, we checked out the house, and found it mostly busted up and wrecked inside, as one would expect from a crowd of ogres and a hill giant taking up residence. The most notable room was a locked bedchamber that seemed to be untouched. Another one of similar composition, with a bashed in door, was on the other side of the house. Mysteries within mysteries...

Eventually, we sussed out that there was a room on the second floor where the giant probably kept his loot, a double doored affair that was inaccessible because all the floors around it had been caved in. We rigged up a window washer style rope trapeze between two spikes on either side of the expanse of wall, and hauled Half Klint across so he could work his theifly magic on the lock.

Well, that didn't work, but his halfling short guy rage allowed him to just bust the doors open with his tiny (albiet mighty) fists. Inside, we found sacks upon sacks of coins, so we scored big.

And that was where we left off.

It's come to me that Half Klint's player will soon be leaving the group, so overall it was good he ended on a high note. We'll miss ya, amigo!

Thanks again to Paul for running a great game, and thanks to the 10d gamers for getting ourselves into a fight with a bunch of hulking goons. Somehow we made it, so it's all win!

New Class: The Shapeshifter

2011-03-09T09:32:00.000-08:00

There are those who wander the world practicing a craft older than the most ancient of spells painstakingly researched by the wizards in their colleges and lonely towers, whispered in reminsices by the oldest patron deities of the clerics in their temples, nearly forgotten by even the elves in their timeless glades and the dwarves in their deep delves.

This craft has its roots in the primordial first drumbeats of creation, when no living thing had settled into its final form.

It is a simple magic, almost instinctual in its practice, that allows these gifted individuals the power to change shapes as if casting off an old cloak and donning a new one.

They are known, if such can be truly known at all, as the Shapeshifters.

REQUIREMENT: Con 12
PRIME REQUISITES: Wis & Con
Hit Dice: d8

ABILITIES:
The primary power of the shapeshifter is the ability to assume the form of any normal animal of equal Hit Dice to their level. They gain the movement, armor class, and attack forms of that creature, as well as any special attacks or abilities of a non-magical or spell like nature, with the exception of poisons, the webbing of spiders, and the ink of octopi and squids.

Thus, a 4th. level shapeshifter transformed into a black bear might gain the bear's hug attack. A 2nd. level shapeshifter transformed into a camel gains the beast's ability to carry 300 lbs. of baggage and go for days without water. Etc.

A shapeshifter cannot speak in animal form unless they are one level higher than the chosen creature's Hit Dice.

The shapeshifter can transform into composite, "mythic" creatures if they have sufficient levels to encompass the hit dice of the component creatures.

The shapes of creatures with a bilateral human component, like satyrs, minotaurs, lizard men, gnolls, or centaurs, are gained at their listed Hit Dice level. In creatures with a human component among multiple other composite animals, like a manticore, gain the human part for an additional level.

For example, a shapeshifter would have to be 8th. level to become a gryphon (3 for the giant hawk, 5 for the lion).

However they cannot gain any sort of magic like effects or breath weapons. A 13th. level shapeshifter could assume the form of a chimera (2 for giant bat, 2 for goat, 5 for lion, and 4 for giant serpent) but would not gain the beast's fiery breath. A 12th. level shapeshifter becoming a manticore (2 for giant bat, 5 for lion, and 4 for giant scorpion, 1 for human) would gain the tail spikes, however.

Demi humans and humanoids without a distinct animal component cannot be transformed into, so orcs, elves, dwarves, halflings, ogres, etc. are off limits.

A shapeshifter is forbidden by ancient and inscrutable laws to assume the form of a ki rin or unicorn, regardless of level.

They may assume something akin to the shape of a dragon at 18th. level or higher, gaining all the attack forms save a breath weapon, but this is an action fraught with risk as it tends to uncannily draw the attention of true dragons who might be in the area. They cannot assume the color of any of the chromatic or metallic types, tending toward scales that match their normal skin and hair coloration.

It's up to the Labyrinth Lord's final discretion what components contribute to a creatures' Hit Dice.

The shift from one shape to another takes as much time in rounds as the target form's Hit Dice. Thus, it would take a high level shapeshifter 9 rounds to become a chimera, but only a single round to transform into a house cat. They may revert to their human form at will.

Shapeshifters are completely immune to the curse of lycanthropy.

In exchange for this mastery over the many forms of the animal world, the shapeshifter forgoes the tools of man, and can wear no armor and wield no weapons. Due to their protean nature, they tend to carry little beyond what can fit in a pack, and wear clothing that is easily cast off and replaced, should they choose to wear any at all.

As far as treasure is concerned, they are still quite happy to claim their fair share, as gold and jewels buy creature comforts, and can be laid aside for a rainy day. Individual tastes may vary from shapeshifter to shapeshifter. Some may favor abiding in nature, away from the hurlyburly of civilization, while others are perfectly happy in the warm conviviality of a tavern or inn.

When it comes to magic items, they favor jewelry that may be worn in many forms like bracelets and necklaces, and potions always come in handy. They have no use for scrolls, wands, armor, or weapons.

A shapeshifter is ostensibly a human, although there is usually something odd about them that marks them out as different even when they're wearing their human shape.

Roll 1d20 on the following table every 5 levels.
01: Animal like eyes. Roll 1d4 1: Cat-like 2: Sheep-like 3: Faceted 4: Dog-like
02: Fine patterned scales
03: Feathers instead of hair
04: A tail Roll 1d8 1: Fox 2: Cow 3: Lizard 4: Monkey 5: Swallow 6: Horse 7: Dog 8: Cat
05: Raccoon like mask on face
06: Mobile, animal like ears. Roll 1d4: 1: Dog-like 2: Cow-like 3: Rabbit-like 4: Bat-like
07: Striped or spotted patterns on skin
08: Short, downy fur matching hair color
09: Dog like pads on feet and palms.
10: Odd teeth Roll 1d4 1: Fangs 2: Huge buck teeth 3: Small tusks 4: Insectoid mandibles
11: Completely hairless
12: Spiny ridge starting at forehead and extending down the spine.
13: Digitigrade legs
14: Odd face Roll 1d4 1: Beak 2: Muzzle 3: Reptilian 4: Huge Nose
15: Mute. Can imitate animal sounds flawlessly, but must communicate in sign language.
16: Unusual diet Roll 1d4
1:Obligate Carnivore 2: Obligate Herbivore 3: Carrion 4: No cooked food of any kind
17: Make random animal noises if Save vs. Spell failed in stressful situations.
18: Talons on hands and feet do 1d4 in combat
19: Arms are vestigial wings (fully functional as arms, but oddly formed and proportioned)
20: Completely different human appearance each time the human shape is resumed. Gender is maintained, but descriptors such as looks, hair and skin color, and the like change radically. Re-roll Charisma each time.

Upon reaching 9th. level, a shapeshifter may choose to claim a hex of wilderness that becomes their domain. Usually, this area will center on some striking natural feature, like a distinctive rock outcropping or a waterfall. All the animals of less than 9 HD found there pay him or her fealty, and develop the ability to speak in a language that the shapeshifter alone can understand.

The shapeshifter must come to amicable terms with more powerful creatures in their neighborhood, or defeat them in battle and drive them away. As they gain levels, the shapeshifter may command the loyalty of the more powerful creatures who co-exist in their territory.

In return, the shapeshifter is expected to defend the land and its denizens from external threats, but they may freely negotiate hunting or logging rights with more civilized neighbors.

Shapeshifters use the elf table for level advancement, and use halfling saving throws.

This class is hereby designated as Open Game Content via the Open Game License.

LL at Pauls: Barging out.

2011-03-09T08:17:00.000-08:00

Whoa. Better get around to the weekly game report before its expiration date rolls around. I've been busy getting stuff ready for this year's fabulous Helgacon and thus let my blogly duties slide.

Anyway, when last we left the group we were taking care of business while the Deacon rested up from his round trip to the great beyond.

So this ended up being mostly another session of in town errands and haggling with various worthies about the city of Bridgefair.

On the monetary front, we found a buyer for the looted suits of Ilmorian armor, which netted us some good coin. We invested a fair amount of it into buying a sufficiently precious gem for the next time we might need to raise someone from the dead. Kashiim used his southern desertlander haggling skills to talk the merchant down to a reasonably bargain price.

We also got the chainmail and mace back from Alric, who figured out that they were pretty low level enchanted, +1 at best. Not bad for gearing up a hench, which is my suggestion. It's party property, so they don't get to keep it, but it helps strengthen our offensive line.

So on that subject we set up in The Pikeman (which is apparently part of a chain, like a fantasy Applebees. Try their +1 onion blossom!) and announced we were recruiting.

We got three applicants. A twitchy little thief guy who referred to himself as "The Sculptor" because he was "good with his hands", a wizard who talked with a thick German accent and could do Shield and Ventriloquism. (Available for "pahties, veddinks, and bah mitzfahs"), and a stout dwarf armed with pike and platemail (I think). As amusing as Gedenka (I think his name was) vould haff been to haff on the pahty, we vent... ahem... went with the dwarf and said thanks but no thanks to the others.

So the dwarf, who's name eludes me right now, had a question when he signed on. Namely, what was our next mission. We had to demur on answering that right away, although we did have one bit of business which was to deliver 100 gp. to the head of Palinthor's church in another city, as payment for the Neutralize Poison that had to be done on the Deacon to get him back on his feet for good.

After that, we didn't really have a plan, although our new dwarf hireling had a suggestion. He said a group of his bretheren had gone into the mountains to find a lost dwarven steading, and that sort of thing usually implies dungeons full of treasure. So we said we'd take it under consideration.

Before we could get to any of that, though, we had another problem to solve, namely getting out of Bridgefair, which with the impending siege was locked down tight as a drum with no traffic going thru the gates.

It turned out that the only thing going into or out of the city was some barge traffic on the western river, so we hied ourselves down to the waterfront to see if we could either contract or hire on to a barge. After slipping some silver to the harbormaster, he pointed us to a barge known as The Warthog, who's captain was in need of some hands.

I'm afraid my tardiness in writing this up has allowed the captain's name to slip out of my head, but description wise he bore a strong resemblance to Captain Lou Albano, so that's what I'll call him.

After a bit of negotiation, he hired us as muscle, offering us one silver a day in exchange for our pulling our weight on the barge. In addition, he required The Deacon to help him with a bit of a... personal problem through the offices of a Cure Disease spell. *shudder* (Well, I was glad to oblige, but true to my profession I made sure to give him a lecture about avoiding future trouble in that... area....)

Sadly, since we were trying to save money on hauling freight, we sold off our wagon and surviving draft horse, which we got a good price for in the soon to be besieged city, and gave our groom and guardsman, Garant and Darius, their walking papers. We also bid a sad adieu to our faithful guard dogs Liam and Yogund.

The barge trip itself was largely uneventful, as we poled our way up the Buckberry river. The only encounters of note were a company of mercenaries who we directed toward Bridgefair, with the encouraging word that they were probably hiring guys with their skillset down there, and passing thru a fortified river gate set in a long, Hadrian style wall that separated the human kingdoms from the wilderness' to the north.

We stayed with the barge as far as the next large town, again with a name I forget. (Sorry, Paul) where we parted company with the Warthog and Captain Lou. With our silver wages in hand, we spent the night at a comfy inn, bought supplies for an overland march, made the purchase of a donkey to carry stuff (especially all the heavy crap that seemed to be weighing Frog down), and set out the next morning heading back south. I guess you can consider it a rather roundabout trip, but it was worth it to get out of Bridgefair without having to come up with some cockamamie scheme involving hot air balloons and our Ring of Feather Fall.

When we got back down to the wall, we decided to climb up and walk along it, as it was heading in the direction of the city we were aiming for. The gate guards were a bit puzzled as to whether we should be charged the toll, but since we weren't crossing thru gate so much as walking along the wall's top, they reluctantly let us go without paying. We did have to drop a couple silver to send one guy thru with the donkey, since there were stairs on the other side of the wall and it was easier than hauling the poor beast up with ropes.

Over the next couple days we made our way along the wall, in what was a very cinematic "Lord of the Rings" style travel montage in my mind's eye. At night, we'd find one of the periodic stairs, and camp out against the wall, with two man watches. One guy would sit atop the wall for a better view, and the other would tend the fire and be on hand to wake the rest of the party up if trouble loomed.

Kinda like this, but a lot larger with a bunch of adventurers and a donkey on top, and a John Williams soundtrack in the background.

It didn't really loom until a couple days into the journey. As we went, the wall got more crumbly and in poor repair, forcing us at times to climb down and walk alongside when it got too treacherous.

We were camped out at night when our lookout spotted two huge humanoids who started chucking pieces of wall at us from a distance. At first I was thinking "giants". (More accurately, I was thinking "Oh CRAP! Giants!") but they turned out to be ogres. (Perspective can be a crafty minx when it comes to spotting giants. Is that a six foot tall guy ten feet away, or an 18 foot tall guy a hundred feet away? Turns out it was somewhere in the middle of the slider bar.)

It just shows to go you how far the party has come. Last time we met up with an ogre (who was the pet goon for a bunch of gnolls) we had a really hard time. This time, though, it was a pretty low effort encounter. (Not that I'm getting cocky, mind you. The dice and a sufficiently peeved DM can make anything deadly if you're off your luck for the night.)

We got everybody woken up and armored up while the big goons lobbed bits of masonry at us. I don't think they managed to score a hit. Whereas Hearth and the Deacon settled their hash handily, with a Charm Person and Hold Person spell respectively. (Luckily, ogres are just barely within' the whole "Person" designation for both spells, which don't count personality so much as humanoidness.) So one ogre was froze solid while the other considered our elf buddy with the deviated septum his new bestest friend in the world.

"Sloth love Hearth!"

The Held one we coup de graced with extreme prejudice. Our new goon pal, however, we need to figure out what to do with. We had him empty out his ogre bag, which was full of a load of silver and gold. He was happy to part with the loot, now that he had a new bosom chum.

And that's where we left it. If we're gonna keep this guy around we're gonna need to keep a supply of candy bars ready.

Thanks again to Paul for running an eventful game, and to the 10d gamers for another jolly good session, what?

LL at Paul's: You can't keep a good man down...

2011-02-20T16:15:00.000-08:00

Papaloosa!

Here we are once more, as I spin out the skein of another Labyrinth Lord game as hosted by my buddy Paul.

When last we left our heroes, they were holed up in the city of Bridgefair, recovering after having busted another evil cult dwelling in the basements of that fair principality.

Thus when morning came we set about various orders of business that had been put off by the prior night's hate filled cloud of brawling. Poor Hearth was still down with a broken nose, so the Deacon set about fixing him up first. It worked, but now there's a barely audible whistling noise when the poor fella breathes. Chalk it up to elves and their hollow bones...

Next task was retrieving Tinhelm from the cellar we'd left him tied up in for the night. We eventually decided not to turn him over to the Haberdashers to get made into a hat, instead letting him off with a stern warning of severe beatings that would ensue if we ever saw him and his shiny helmet ever again.

That turned out not to be a problem, as we sidled up to the abandoned gnomish jewelers and sent Half Klint inside to check in on him while we feigned talking about business. (There were a lot of pedestrians about, and we didn't want to arouse suspicion by breaking into an abandoned jewel shop.) Well, it was good that nobody was paying too close attention, 'cos the little guy failed his move silently rolls spectacularly and knocked over an entire cabinet of china accompanied by loud curses.

I suppose I've gotten off the point, which was that Tinhelm was nowhere to be found, just a little bit of frayed rope marked where he'd lay. We tossed a coin and it came up "Not our problem anymore." (I'm sure that's the way it will be too. No future problems at all... Nope...) So we went off to run more errands.

Our third stop took us to Adric the sage, in his ramshackle "Hoarders" episode of an office, where we found him talking to a young mage of very professional aspect who expressed an interest in joining our group after hearing something of our exploits from the aged sage.

This was fine with us. It didn't hurt to have another mage in the group, and our recent acquisition Marklov had somehow failed to show up back at the inn after a night of carousing.

Once again, I'm sure he's fine, and will show up eventually someday...

(I'm afraid our new magic man's name escapes me right now, as is often the case with new player characters. The real haps was that Marklov's player had decided that a mage was more apropos for him vis a vis the group's play style, and so he decided to shelve the burly thief for a magic user.)

We did a fair bit of business with Adric. We contracted him to identify the magic chainmail and mace that we'd recovered from the underground cult leader. We also hired him on as a go between to sell the ancient ilmorian armor that Frog, Marklov, and Half Klint liberated from the crypts where the cult was having their little soiree. He'd assured us that a collector would be willing to fork over about 100 gp per suit (which in Paul's houseruled money adds up to 10 times that amount.) So we were all for it.

Once that was done we had our appointment with the clerics of Palinthor, whom we'd promised to lead to the cult's lair for them to check it out. There was some dissention among the group about whether we should do this now or later after we'd had a chance to loot the place, but it all turned out okay 'cos when the elderly priest found out the place hadn't been 100% cleared of nastiness he demurred going down. I guess I, for one, had imagined a squad of paladins would follow us down, but in truth those guys had left the city to face this whole invading army business so it was just the old priest and a couple acolytes who'd be with us.

So we bid them good day and set out for the old abandoned house where Half Klint had discovered the entrance.

We went down and started mapping out the underground complex, noting rooms and connecting halls. There were a lot of crypts. Some of the skeletal denizens of the alcoves got up to complain about all the noise we were making, but now that the Deacon is 5th. level skeletons ain't no big thing, as I get an automatic T when turning 1 HD undead. So I sent 'em back to bed with a few strums of my silver stringed mandolin.

There was one pretty funny battle where we ran the skeletons off and Kashim still insisted on charging 'em, so the rest of us held back and watched in bemusement as he kept glancing over his shoulder, wondering if we were planning on helping him in his epic battle. You wanna roll them bones, big man? You just go right ahead. He smashed 'em without too much trouble.

The situation underground got VERY interesting when we came upon a footbridge crossing an underground river fork, which in turn led to a small, ruined town in a large subterranean chamber. Wowsers!

Well, we crossed the bridge, sending Kashim and his Ring of Water Walking across first in case of deadfalls, and proceeded to explore what seemed to be ancient Ilmorian ruins. We came upon a small square with a well, flanked by four buildings at the nearest corner in the triangle formed by the underground streams. The buildings weren't much trouble for us to get into. (I think Half Klint had another of his Halfling Hulk Out's on one of the doors, pulling it off the hinges with a 6 on his open doors roll.)

The interiors weren't much to write home about, mostly ancient bits of furniture that crumbled to the touch. One building held a pair of were-rats, who we quickly overbore and slew without too much worry of catching any lycanthropy off of 'em. (Our front line is pretty sturdy, with Kashim at a 2 AC and Frog at a 1, with the Deacon weighing in at a pretty solid 3.) I don't totally recall the play by play on that fight, but we didn't have too much trouble taking 'em down with all the magical weapons we were slinging. I think I kerploded one's noggin' with my Mojo stick. Good times.

Well, things went very pear shaped in the southernmost building. Pear shaped and black. With eight legs and a red hourglass shape on the belly. And big as a shetland pony.

Yeah, we ran into a bunch of giant black widow spiders in this structure, which was otherwise empty except for a thick haze of webbing. Kashim and Frog charged 'em, and against my better judgement, the Deacon did as well. All through the fight I had a feeling I'd gotten in over my head, and it came true when one of the bastards bit me.

So I had to roll a save vs. Poison, and I had a plus two from the Ring of Protection I was wearing. But it wasn't enough. I rolled a 4. In a few short moments of convulsions and agony, Deacon Django Silver was dead.

Ah well. Bound to happen sometime. I was the last holdout from the initial party, and hadn't suffered a death yet, so I guess my number was up. And it was a 4.

Well, I gotta say I was tremendously heartened by what happened next. The rest of the group went into GO mode and beat a hasty withdrawal. They knocked one of the spiders out with a Sleep spell, and managed to kill one of them too, and then absconded post haste with the Deacon's rapidly cooling corpse.

They headed back to the Temple of Palinthor at a run, and plunked me down on the head priest's doorstep looking for a Raise Dead. Mercifully, the old guy could do the ritual, but they were gonna need a large, valuable gemstone to start with. Also mercifully, we happened to have just such a ruby, that we didn't use when we tried and failed to raise our veteran thief Klint.

Although there was a bit of uncertainty as to WHO had the ruby. I envision a furious patting down of pockets and belt pouches at that point. Thankfully, Paul showed some mercy and let us find it, although we'd lost other valuable things before due to poor record keeping. We resolved to keep better track of our stuff from here on out.

Well, with ruby in hand there was still the matter of paying for an additional Neutralize Poison spell, or else the Deacon would expire from the very poison that killed him seconds after being revived. That also was ponied up, and the old priest set to work.

Hallelujah! The ruby flared like a small sun and vanished, and the Deacon twitched awake. He was feeble and delirious, and wouldn't be functional for a couple weeks to come, but by cracky he was back!

And that's where we left off.

Whew. A real bang up session. I kind of felt like I'd finally gone thru a rite of passage that other players were by now old hands at... the grisly death of a PC. Extremely luckily for both me and The Deacon I had my first experience with the reaper within' the confines of a major city with good Raise Dead facilities and we had the requisite pricey gem at hand to pay for it, so I was dead and back from the beyond within' that all important "golden hour" that medical experts talk about.

As I said, I was also touched by how the team dropped everything and rushed to get my character back. As Frog said "He's our voice of reason. We need him!" So yeah, thanks guys. You're the best bunch of larcenous miscreants I guy could hang out with.

So now, the Deacon rests up, and whatever mischief they get up to in the meantime doesn't need to be mentioned.

Thanks again to Paul for running a gripping session, and to the 10d gamers for picking me up when I was finally down. You guys rock!

LL at Paul's: Madness in the Streets

2011-02-13T15:24:00.000-08:00

Heyah!

So I finally made it to a session when we had a brief interstice of not snowing.

We catch up to our heroes debating the merits of turning Tinhelm over to the New Haberdashers as revenge. As a lawful character, the Deacon kind of has a problem with this. Sure it was lame that he stole our horses, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable turning a guy over to a bunch of thugs so they can get medieval on him.

The debate got sidelined as a tumult erupted outside the Pikeman tavern where we'd gathered. We looked out side through an unusually dense fog and saw a bunch of guys going at it hammer and tongs in a knock down, drag out fight.

Ketil, our paladin, used his Detect Evil ability, and noted sort a general malaise of evil floating in the fog itself. So we knew something was amiss.

The Deacon cast Protection From Evil on himself and headed over, along with Ketil to try to break the brawl up. One guy had pulled a knife and was shanking one of the other dudes, so we figured we should intervene.

Hearth, our elven wizard, stepped out of the front door and cast Sleep on the crowd. Thankfully, the Deacon was too high level to get caught by it, and Ketil made his save, so all the other brawlers got sent off to dreamland.

Ketil started dragging one of the combatants back toward the inn, while the Deacon decided to head up the street and investigate the fog cloud.

Unfortunately for both of us, the fog apparently contained concentrated essence of crazy, 'cos we both failed our saves and flipped out. Ketil drew his mace and crushed the guy he was trying to rescue's head, while the Deacon started swinging his mojo stick over his head looking for someone to brain with it.

The rest of the party realized the crap that was going down, and drew up plans to retrieve us. Frog tied a rope around his waist and headed into the fog, holding his breath after a deep gulp of air. Marklov rushed inside and grabbed the bellows from the fireplace, filling it with an emergency air supply then rushing out to join our veteran merc. Kashim took a mighty breath, also tied a rope around his waist, and charged after the Deacon into the fog choked street.

Thankfully, Frog managed to disarm Ketil, but still had to face his furious pounding fists as he tried to drag him back to the inn. Kashim took several regrettable blows to the face and head from the Deacon's feather and skull festooned staff (the mummified squirrel lashed to the top probably hurt the worst) but thankfully the cleric was too loopy to remember to fire off the "breeshk" BOOM attack. The desert warrior grappled the wild eyed Deacon and started dragging him back.

Marklov, Frog, and a struggling Hearth managed to pull Ketil back to the inn and into the common room, where the poor elf took a heavy blow to the face that knocked his delicate nose out of joint and laid him out flatter than a mackerel. Tables were smashed, spittoons were emptied in peoples faces, and wrestling moves were attempted, until finally everybody came to their senses.

Meanwhile, Kashim was valiantly trying to drag a wildly stick flailing Deacon back to the inn, when finally his lungs gave out on him and he took a breath of the fog, succumbing to the rage and starting to punch back. So instead of pulling him in, he became kind of like a savagely brawling fishing lure for the Deacon, who chased him and continued whaling on him. When they were within reach of the inn, they got dragged inside, and finally pacified after a few more busted chairs and facefuls of gravel being tossed.

While all this was going on, Half Klint decided to climb to the roof and scope things out. He spotted the fog's epicenter a few blocks away, and in a completely ballsy move that earns him the President of Awesome award for the evening, he followed the evil mist, leaping from rooftop to rooftop until he came to a dilapidated house where the fog was thickest. Taking a breath, he climbed down into one of the upper windows and proceeded to explore the house.

Inside, it was empty, with rickety floors that gave way even under a halfling's weight. He followed the fog down to the basement, where it was streaming up through a grate in the floor. He took a brief pause where he climbed to the roof to get some more air, then went down and in a feat of halfling might ripped the grate up with his bare hands (and an awesome Open Doors roll).

He tied off a rope and climbed down to where he found a bubbling cauldron producing the evil fog of hate. He kicked out the fire, and set to work trying to upend the thing, but it proved too heavy for him (and natural 6's on his Strength check weren't forthcoming). After straining with it for a while, a couple of hooded, robed figures with their faces heavily wrapped came in to investigate, and nearly caught him as he scampered up the rope and got out of there.

The brave halfling made his way back to the inn where the rest of the group was convalescing with his news, and so we decided we should go and deal with these cultist bastards. We cut down some curtains and wetted them, making impromptu gas masks for ourselves, and set off to check out this wrecked house.

We climbed in thru the first floor window Half Klint had opened for us, and made our way down to the basement, then climbed on down into the room with the cauldron. This we poured out on the floor, careful not to get any on us, and proceeded to explore thru a couple of doors we found down there.

Our way eventually led to a room hung with spare robes, which we took to disguise ourselves. (Even Half Klint, with full expectation of a few "Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" jokes to try to evade.)

As we were doing this, Ketil found a crack in the floor which looked down into some kind of sepulchre, where a bunch of cultists were busy doing the usual culty stuff.

A brief debate ensued as to whether we should go in guns blazing or GTFO. On one hand, we were out of spells and all pretty battered from our little internecine brawl, on the other, if we left then surely the next day when we showed up with the town guard the place would be an innocent ice cream parlor or something. We decided to split the difference and just scope the place out.

Appropriately berobed, we pressed on, 'til we came to a room with a couple of cult goons standing guard. I'm not sure I remember what set us off, whether they asked for a password or something, but we jumped 'em.

They managed to get a "Help, intruders!" call out before they both went down, but thankfully we were able to bluster our way thru, dressed as we were, when a couple more cult goons poked their head thru the door. Thru some divine providence they bought it and went back downstairs.

So we wedged the two goons' bodies under a spiral staircase leading to a different empty house on the surface, and went downstairs.

When we came trooping down the steps, the two cult goons at the bottom looked at us askance, but seemed accepting enough, until Keitil the paladin opened his big yap and started asking "So remind me again, who do we worship here?" (This was on a par with my paladin Calvert's famous "Meow! Meow, I say!" incident back in the old Thursday night campaign, for those of you out there reading who recall.)

Well, that's when all heck broke loose, and the rest of the cult, which totaled four guards, three acolyte/low level clerics, and one high level cleric came at us and we started fightin'.

The cult boss lead with Animate Dead, and called down a bunch of skeletons from the various biers that lined the walls of this chamber. Meanwhile, we were laying into the door guards pretty well, and had 'em down pretty fast. Frog's player seemed to have pretty hot dice tonight, and was rolling a lot of natural 20's.

Then the cult leader uncorked with Hold Person, which caught Frog and Kashim, freezing them in place. Bad deal. So the Deacon used the last precious Cure Light Wounds spells on his backup scroll to bring 'em back to the land of the moving. One of the lesser priests cast Fear, sending Half Klint scampering away for his life. This was fine, though. He'd already proven himself the King of Nuts & Balls for going alone to the site of the evil fog earlier, so we figured we'd just collect him later if we lived.

Once the crew was back and limber, the Deacon used his 5th. level mojo and turned the cult leader's skeletons with ease. I got gumption, skellies ain't nothin'. Of course, that made the bastard whip up an Enchant Weapon spell on his warhammer and charge us.

He managed to kill poor Ketil with a blow to the head that caved in his face. This enraged Frog, who speared him thru his evil heart. All thru the fight, he was taunting the Deacon about hiding behind warriors. Way I see it, that's their job, and you can ruminate on your bullcrap while they're shoving your face into the belt sander in whatever hell you've been sent to, mister culty, I'm still here with my silver stringed mandolin livin' the good life.

So when the dust had settled we were down a paladin, and up one more cult on our trophy wall. Some of us carried Ketil off to the local temple of Palinthor, while the rest of the group stuck around and looted the sarcophagi in the center of the room, which apparently held a lot of phat lootz.

And that was where we left off.

This was a fun session. The interplayer brawl was hilarious, although painful. Kinda dangerous too, 'cos old school B/X style play doesn't leave a lot of room for striking to stun rather than injure. I was whaling on Kashim a lot, but figured I could patch him up.

The loss of Ketil was bittersweet, but an appropriate end because his player is going to be leaving us to move to the West Coast, and so it was a pleasure for Paul to kill his character one more time. Paul gave him a hand bound copy of my game reports from this very blog, which is pretty cool (and very flattering to me as well, if I may indulge my overinflated ego a bit. Hey, it's my damn blog!)

Once again I gotta tip my hat to Half Klint's player for bravery above and beyond the call of duty for checking out the source of the fog all by his l'il lonesome. That was a very ballsy move, and I was on the edge of my seat watching it play out. (While we were all playing Fight Club back at the inn.) So I give you the first ever Saturday Night Sandbox Damn Manly Slacks Award for bravery.

Thanks again to Paul, for running this show, and to the 10d gamers for making it fun as usual.

Happy trails and good luck to Ketil/Jantz/Yøgund's player. See you at GenCon, buddy!

LL at Paul's: More special guest stars.

2011-02-06T13:04:00.000-08:00

Howdy.

This week's game report is gonna be a little the same. As in once again I couldn't make it, and I'm posting my fellow players' accounts of the action.

I tried. Lord knows, I tried to get there, but we've just had a hellacious bout of weather (of a piece with everybody's hellacious weather here in the U.S. of A.)

I was in a hurry to leave for the game, and I dropped my garage door opener down between the porch and a four foot snow drift. Thankfully I fished it out, but it wasn't working, so I had to operate the garage manually. Then I got on the road and everywhere I wanted to go there was a crawling line of traffic. I spent an hour in my car and never made it out my town. And to top it off my "Check Tire Pressure" light came on.

So I cut my losses and went home and spent the night in.

But this is a gaming blog, and cathartic as it is to rant about you don't wanna read about my transit problems. So here's the report on this week's session, as written by Frog's player.

The party met up before the supper hour, and after Froggie briefed
everyone on the leads on Tinhelm's location that he had scared up, it
was decided that Ketil, Marklove and Klint would enter the Golden
Goose under the guise of regular customers, whilst the rest of the
party would wait outside the tavern in a nearby alley. That trio was
chosen because Tinhelm because they were not with the party when
Tinhelm was under our employ. After getting a brief from the rest of
the party about Tinhelm's appearance ('he's an elf who wears a shiny
metal hat'), the party proceeded to the Golden Goose. The trio
entered and were immediately seated at a table at the back of the
tavern, near the bar and under the stairs that lead to the
establishment's guest rooms. After a failed attempt to mingle with
the rest of the patrons in the dining hall, Klint asked the serving
maiden if she knew of Tinhelm, explaining that the trio were some old
friends of the elf who wanted to surprise him. She said that yes,
that she knew of him, that he often dined at the GG and in fact, the
trio had just missed him, for he had finished dinner some hours prior
to their arrival at the inn and he had gone out on some pressing
business. The trio decided to wait at the inn for him, and ordered a
rather sumptuous meal. As they chowed down on their vittles, they
concocted this story to try to lure Tinhelm into accompanying them to
a place where the party could shanghai him: the trio were
well-connected adventurers who had been able to arrange exit from
Bridgefaire, and they needed a guide who could take them to Green
Wilde. They would pay said guide very well for such work.

Whilst they were in the middle of suffering meat sweats from their
entree of a large slab of roast beef, they noticed a man with elfin
features who wore a tall metal helm with a peacock feather jutting
ostentatiously said helm enter the GG with a rather slatternly-looking
waif of a girl on his arm. It was our erstwhile henchman, Tinhelm.
One of the serving maidens met Tinhelm as he proceeded to the stairs,
and, using his nimble hearing skills, Klint was able to glean that the
maiden was in the process of telling Tinhelm that some folks had been
in GG earlier looking for him and that our trio was also in the tavern
hoping to meet Tinhelm. In an effort to prevent Tinhelm from
rabbiting, Ketil got up, drink in hand, to take an ostensible
post-meal constitutional and 'accidentally' bumped into Tinhelm,
spilling his drink on the former henchman. Apologizing profusely for
his misstep, Ketil insisted on buying the elf a drink and after some
initial protestations on his part (and some deft maneuvering by the
trio to surreptitiously surround him), Tinhelm agreed to sit down for
one drink. Ketil ordered the most expensive wine in the
establishment, and quartet sat down to have their drinks.

During the convivial sharing of libations, the trio explained that
they were under the employ of some very well-connected interests who
had made arrangements for the trio to leave Bridgefair so that they
could go to Green Wilde. Seeing as neither Ketil, Marklov or Klint
were unfamiliar with the lands between Bridgefair and Green Wilde, the
trio were actively searching for someone who could guide them to the
Green Wilde and that such a guide would be paid handsomely for his
time and efforts. Tinhelm did not bite at this ruse, but he did
mention that he was in the market for some strong arms to accompany
him on an expedition to some ancient ruins, where it was strongly
rumored that many treasures could be found. The trio changed tact,
and said that in addition to themselves, there were other experienced
adventurers in the employ of their bosses and that they could vouch
for 4 men who could potentially help Tinhelm on his quest. This
piqued the elf's interest, and it was agreed that 1 hour after
finishing parting company, Tinhelm would meet the trio at the fountain
in the southern quarter, giving elf enough time for his proverbial
roll in the hay.

BigFella here. This next part was written by Half Klint's player.

When we last left our stalwart band of adventurers, the plan was to track down a certain elf, Tamar Tinhelm, to- ahem- "discuss" a small matter of our missing war horses. Thanks to Froggie's crack investigative skills, we were able to narrow down his whereabouts to a couple of finer establishments in the north side of Bridgefair which he frequents. We decided to just pick the first one- The Golden Goose- and set up a stake out. After a quick huddle, we reckoned that the best way to go about it was to send in the three newbs (Klint, Kettel, and Marklov)- who Tamar didn't know- and have the rest of the veterans post up outside in case shit went down. And down shit went, as we were able to not only corner our prey, but secure a meeting with him at the town fountain later in the evening...

Leaving Half-Klint behind to hide across the street and watch the inn- just in case- the rest of our group hastily made way to the fountain to set up the ambush on the bridge which leads there from the posh side of town. Spells at the ready, the Deacon concealed himself on the bridge, while the rest of the crew took up various positions around the fountain. Like clockwork, about an hour later, Tinhelm emerged with a small entourage of two street toughs and made way to the meeting, Klint following closely behind.

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity for Tinhelm and his small crew to cross the bridge, it was time to strike! The Deacon quickly emerged from his hidey hole and let loose with a hold person on Tinhelm, freezing him in place like a storefront mannequin, which unfortunately left the two hired thugs. As expected, they were none too happy about what had just happened to their employer and decided to rush the Deke. The party being too far away to intervene quickly, Hearth decided to step in with the nuclear option and cast a sleep spell on the two thugs to try to quell the situation. Alas, the Deacon was also caught in the wake, and he and one of the thugs dropped into a sound, dreamless slumber.

All of the commotion must have confused Klint, as with a HIGHLY uncharacteristic display of valor and self sacrifice our tiny rogue decided to rush in and place himself bodily between the Deacon and the remaining thug that was about to lay down a killing strike. Palenthor must've smiled at this selfless act, as Klint was able to smite the ruffian in a single blow!

After a quick pause to catch their breaths, it was time to discuss what to do next. Klint and Frog, being the expedient types, wanted to slay the sleeping henchman. Predictably, Kettel and the Deacon would have none of it. This led to the usual argument about "killing innocent hostages...blah blah blah". Attempting to settle it, the Halfling challenged the obstinate Paladin to detect evil on the slumbering mafioso, which unfortunately turned up a big negative. Hence it was decided to tie him up and leave him in an alley, while- on Marklov's most excellent suggestion- we steal away to the abandoned Gnomish gem shop we had scoped out earlier for some uninterrupted quality time with our Elvish captive. We quickly made our way uptown to the boarded up edifice, and after some work prying open an entrance ended up in a nice, cozy underground basement chamber, with the Kettel and the Deacon keeping watch upstairs.

This is where things got ugly.

While waiting for our dear friend Tamar's paralysis to wear off, Frog and Klint spent some time trying to decide who was going to play "good cop" and who was going to play "bad cop" for the upcoming interrogation. After some deliberation it was decided that Klint would play "bad cop" and Frog would play "worse cop". The questioning did not go well, however, as it turns out that far from being the wealthy catpurse we had assumed, Tinhelm was pretty much just a degenerate bum who was in over his head. It was clear that we were lucky if we could pry a couple of copper from him, much less recoup the cost of the warhorses he had absconded with, and the 50 GP bottle of wine Kettel had ordered at the Goose earlier. In fact, all he had on his person was some hastily scrawled map to Stonehell which he claimed led to- quote- "riches untold". Yeah, right.

While all this was going on Marklov had been searching around the chamber and found a secret door in one of the corners, so at least some good had come out of all this. It was then decided that Frog and Klint would head to Tinhelm's room back at the Goose to attempt to collect on his debt to us from whatever meager belongings he might have, while exploration of the secret door would wait until they returned.

BigFella again. Now the narrative is once again picked up by Frog's player.

Convinced that Tinhelm was still holding out on the party, it was
decided that Froggie and Klint would head back to the Golden Goose,
whilst the rest of the party waited within the ruins of the gem
merchant's establishment. Whilst those two were away, Marklov had a
heart-to-heart with Tinhelm. He expressed his incredulity at the
elf's temerity in stealing the party's horses. Tinhelm's weak reply
was something like 'I thought I'd never see them again!'. It was
reminiscent of the 'What does Marsellus Wallace look like?' scene from
'Pulp Fiction', only cleaner.

Froggie and Klint proceeded to the Golden Goose, and nonchalantly made
their way up to room number 9. They knocked on the door, and they
were surprised to hear a male voice roughly telling them that they had
the wrong room and to go away. Froggie politely apologized for the
mistake and feigned going away, but, with a knowing look to Klint,
waited on a silent five count before kicking down the door. Inside
the room, Tinhelm's lady friend for the evening, Yolanda, sat
nervously in a chair, whilst a burly ruffian tossed the contents of
room haphazardly. Standing watch by the door was another thug, who
was taken by surprise when the room door was busted in. Froggie took
advantage of the moment and made an unsuccessful attempt to brain the
street-tough near the door. Klint hung back, cagily watching for an
opportune moment to sneak into the fray. The two thugs regain their
wits, and proceeded to gang up on Froggie, but their initial attacks
were rebuffed easily by the worldly veteran. Yolanda took the
opportunity to arm herself with a nearby candle holder, but she was
still too fearful to make an attempt to slip away. Froggie focused
his attention on the swarthy hooligan by the door, but the press of
the robbers' attack and the close quarters caused him to make another
awkward swing. Emboldened by the fact that they had superior numbers
on their assailant, the burlier of the two ruffians cuffed Froggie
soundly on the head with his cudgel. Enraged by the painful ringing
in his ears that the blow had caused, Froggie hefted his mace and went
all medieval on his current target's thieving ass, cracking the punk's
skull like Oprah going to town on an Cadbury chocolate egg. The
remaining bandit's shock at the quick turning of the tide of combat
continued as Klint deftly sneaked behind him and skillfully slid his
sword into the tough's gizzard. The halfling coaxed the dying bandit
into the long night with gentle shushes to make sure he didn't make a
noisy death rattle.

Sensing that her opportunity had arrived, Yolanda made a move towards
the door but Froggie pointed to her with his brain-stained mace and
told her to stay right where she was. Yolanda expressed her regret at
meeting Tinhelm, and revealed that the two men they had killed were
members of the new Haberdashers. After tossing the room and finding
only a gold piece and 10 silver pieces, Froggie tossed 5 silver pieces
towards Yolanda, and, with a warning to keep her mouth shut, she was
sent on her way. The dead bandits were placed in the room's closet,
and after making sure there no lookie-loos in the tavern's hallway,
Froggie and Klint made their exit from Golden Goose and headed back to
the ruins of the gnome shop.

Upon returning to the rest of the fellowship, Froggie informed Tinhelm
of the events at the Golden Goose. The elf let out a despondent groan
as he revealed that he was in deep with the new Haberdashers. Klint
shrewdly noted that while Tinhelm didn't have a single copper piece to
rub, Tinhelm himself could bring a hefty reward, the size of which was
dependent upon how eager the new Haberdashers wanted to get their
hands on the elf. The party decided to leave the matter for the
moment, as the hour was getting late and there was still the matter of
the inner recesses of the gnomes' secret lair. Leaving Tinhelm to
stew in his despair, the party proceeded through the secret door. In
the first room they entered, they discovered a tripod stand, near
which lay a length of string that attached to the handle of a door.
After some initial investigation that allayed their fears that the
string was part of some elaborate trap, the party opened the door to
which the string was attached. Beyond the door lay a bare room. On
the wall left of the door lay a doorway out of the room. On the wall
opposite the door was a round gap that was clearly made by some
burrowing creature. Cannily deducing that the creature which made the
hole might still be in it, the party proceeded through the doorway.
The party discovered a corridor, and as they proceeded down the
corridor, they could hear the distinct rush of flowing water, such as
can be heard from a river. Some distance into the corridor, the party
discovered a locked door on one wall of the corridor. Eager to earn
his keep, Marklov stepped foward, and after some initial fumbling due
to his reduced depth perception, the one-eyed rogue nimbly worked his
pick into the keyhole and successfully undid the mechanisms of the
lock. Beyond the door was a room bare except for a wooden chest with
a large padlock. In one corner of the room was another rough hewn
hole, similar to the one in the room with the door with the attached
string. His fingers tingling with the thrill of gaining unauthorized
entry to a room that someone had obviously barred from prying eyes,
the wily Marklov, after a cursory check for traps on the chest,
attempted to pick the large padlock. However, the intricacies of the
lock proved too complex for Marklov's skills. Froggie grabbed the
party's crowbar and, with Kashim's help, made an initial unsuccessful
attempt to the pry the chest open. The chest, however, could not
withstand the two fighters' second attempt and the lid was pried away.
Marklov pocketed the intact padlock for further study later. Inside
the chest lay several electrum coins and a scroll tube made of bone.
A later survey of the loot would reveal that there was 600 pieces of
electrum. Whilst the party elatedly gawked at their discovery, they
did not noticed the duo of humanoids with rat-like features, each
armed with short swords, sneak into the room. The creatures set upon
the party, and after an initial moment of surprise, upon which the two
rat-persons could not capitalize, the fight was joined by the party.
A fierce donnybrook ensued, and although the two creatures proved
fierce in spite of their resemblance to cowardly vermin, the party
overwhelmed them and they fell under a fierce barrage of blows from
the party's enchanted weaponry. Upon their deaths, the duo changed
forms to naked men. Realizing that they had just fought men cursed
with rat lycanthropy and not wanting to risk suffering the fate of
their dear departed companion Gentleman Jack, the party grabbed the
chest full of electrum pieces and beat a hasty exit from the secret
compound. They barred the secret door, and with nary a glance at the
trussed-up Tinhelm, they left the ruins of the gem merchant's shop and
returned back to their inn.

BigFella here. Dang. When the Deacon's on autopilot you guys go all Quentin Tarantino.
Sounds like it was a good town based session.

Lookin' forward to gettin' back so I can keep you goons on the straight and narrow.
Thanks to Half Klint and Frog for taking up the reportage this week, thanks to the rest of the 10d gamers, and thanks to Paul for running such an awesome campaign.

LL at Paul's: Special Guest Star

2011-01-30T14:32:00.001-08:00

Howdy.

This week's game report's gonna be a little different, 'cos I didn't write it. I was travelling on business this week and couldn't make the game, so in lieu of my usual blather, I'll be substituting blather from fellow 10d gamer: exitsanity, who plays the mighty Kashiim.

Let us begin:

Picking up where we left off the party regrouped after the battle within the hallways of Tevlar's keep. Behind the closed doors Kashiim was re-awakened from the Hold Person spell and healing was passed around to the remaining members. The party charged out of the room to find.... the bodies of the bugbears cleared and the hallway silent. Opening a door at the end of the hallway the group found a lavish bedchamber being polluted by two bugbears; obviously either these were Tevlar's man-servants or they had slain the wizard and must be killed themselves!

Kashiim, Froggie and 1/2Klint charged the first of the beasts while Kettle, Deacon and Marklov dove over the curtained bed to flank the remaining bugbear. Kettle and Froggie took devastating wounds but the party managed to stick enough pointy bits into the bugbears to drop them finally. The keep became eerily quiet so Harth decided to cast one of his verrrry useful spells... Detect Magic! Deacon applied some healing to Froggie as Kettle called upon the god of Palengrad to heal his most grievous elbow wound.

Harth glanced around the room and noticed two areas glowing with magical auras; a trapdoor underneath a fancy armchair, and a section of wall adjacent to a portrait of Tevlar. Try as the party might they could not budge either the trapdoor or a hidden panel they found on the wall... Behind the portrait in a small hidden compartment Kashiim and the Deacon found a pouch of gems and gold coins. Other than the three hidden locations the brave adventurers only found Tevlar's lovely wardrobe though Froggie started scratching his stubble every time he looked at Tevlar's portrait. He saw a few improvements to be made on Tevlar's portrait and decided to try his hand at medieval photoshopping. Tevlar's portrait was hung back up with care; sporting a new monocle and mustache. (BigFella here: Yeah, that's gonna end well for us...)

Froggie and Kettle quickly made it clear that they weren't done with Tevlar's keep yet (even though they were both near death at zero hitpoints). Kashiim sensed their urgency and decided to lead the way through the remaining rooms. Of note the party found a complicated alchemist setup. Half-Klint, Marklov and Froggie quickly gathered up two-score of vials and stoppered containers in Tevlar's own robes/cloaks and the party went downstairs to recover an iron chest found earlier.

Without delay the group made for the road, putting the keep on the hill as far behind them as possible. It was determined that heading to Bridgefair was the next step to tie up some other loose 'ends'.

Arriving at Bridgefair it was obvious that the city had closed up its gates and strengthened the watch on its walls. Deacon deftly talked his way into the city and the group decided to find lodging at an inn named The Pikeman for an exorbitant weekly rate. After settling in their rooms the party split to take care of errands; a crowbar was purchased for the iron chest, Froggie started following up leads on the thief 'Tinhelm', Kashiim and Harth went to trade and catch up with the magician in the rich district, and the remaining members went to have the gems appraised.

The shoppe the gnomes ran in the wealthy district was boarded up. Some sleuthing revealed that an explosion was heard from within, that the gnomes may have been taken for tax evasion, and that some gnome arrived later asking a lot of questions about the gnome shoppe but may not be in town. We found a new gem cutter to deal with, Bardi. Kashiim and Harth purchased a couple of scrolls and also inquired of the ability to dispel wizard locked compartments for the possibility of finishing the raid on Tevlar's chamber.

Froggie used every bit of acumen to squeeze details of Tinhelm's location out of various townsfolk. I believe he only spent 10 gold pieces on bribes; obviously a steal for the amount of gold lost when the horses were stolen... Early the next morning Harth used his spells to determine that 8 of the potions from Tevlar's laboratory were magical; Kashiim brought those plus 2 more to the magician to be identified as the party made ready to follow up the most promising lead on Tinhelm's current location.

Okay, BigFella here again. Sounds like an interesting session. I'm just glad the Deacon made it thru okay, and look forward to pursuing our path of vengeance on Tinhelm, whilst avoiding any vengeance that might arise from Tevlar coming home to find his castle ransacked and his bugbears dead. I guess we'll dodge that fireball when we come to it.

Thanks to exitsanity for filling in the blanks, and thanks as usual to Paul for running the campaign. Lookin' forward to next week.

LL at Paul's: Bug Ugly.

2011-01-23T17:48:00.000-08:00

It bears repeating, this was an un-bearable session. Okay, I'll stop...

Whamma hey.

So after an interlude brought on by the latest NorthEastern snowpalooza, we reconvened on Thursday night, which happened through a trick of the Gregorian calendar to also be my birthday. This happens to me frequently, for some reason, that I end up at a game table on the big ME day, and it rocks.

So anyway, when last we left the crew, we were sizing up the stone statue in the depths of Skull Mountain that came alive and roasted almost half the party by barfing up lava on us. This happened when Kashim touched it, so we avoided laying hands on the thing.

After a long interval of speculating and ruminating and trying to figure out if there were any secret exits to this skull decorated room, we threw up our hands and decided to cut our losses and leave. We'd gotten what we'd come for, which was info from the scrying pool, and we'd made a thorough map of the complex, which would serve us in good stead if we felt like dipping our toe back in to the piranha infested pool that was Skull Mountain. So off we went.

Our next objective, based on the info we'd gained, was to go to the ruined castle where we'd encountered Tevlar the Mighty, a powerful jerk of a mage, and ransack the place while he was off at this wizard convention thing we'd espied him at thru the scrying pool.

We had to do a little mental gymnastics for the lawful members of the group, i.e. myself and Kietel the Paladin, to be able to justify what was essentially burglary. Sure he was mean to us, but then again last time we met him we were intruding on his premises. Well, we figured counts against him A: His eager staff of evil bugbears didn't point to a spotless character and B: he sat there in full view of Skull Mountain and let the Obsidian Heart carry out their campaign of sacrifice and terror. So we decided to stick it to him. And if we managed to swipe a bunch of stuff on the way, so be it.

So we journeyed over hill and dale 'til we got to the Dead Hills, under the looming presence of the castle. As we camped, a stranger approached us, a burly, bearded, wall eyed gentleman of ill aspect who looked like he led a life of larceny. I'm not recalling his name with 100% accuracy. I wanna say his name was Markeva. (This was a new player to join our merry group. Sorry for the memory lapse, Mr. R, but it usually takes me a couple sessions to absorb a new character's name.)

After introductions were made, we broke camp and tromped up the hill to the castle. We decided to enter through the big hole in the wall made in the ancient battle where the castle fell.

As we entered, we were spotted by a bugbear, who ran for the inner bailey of the castle and ran inside. Markeva and Kashim, I think, had enough presence of mind to fire their bows at him, but didn't manage to stop him.

As we gave chase, we started getting peppered with bowfire from a row of arrow slits overlooking the courtyard on the second floor of the castle. Paul made us run through the fire if we wanted to get to the doors, and this was where the Deacon's recent equipment upgrades paid off. Now that I was wearing magical leather armor and a Ring of Protection, I was a lot lighter on my feet, and cleared the distance in one round. Kashim and Keitel with their heavier armor came next, with Frog huffing and puffing across the courtyard for three rounds. (Shoulda quit smokin' five packs a day Froggy my man.)

Winston Churchill once said "There's nothing more exhilerating than being shot at without result" and I think that was in play for the Deacon, 'cos once I crossed the courtyard I started kicking in doors ready to lay a smackdown with my Mojo Stick on anything that confronted me. That worked for two rooms, until I met a knot of five bugbears.

They're like Care Bears, except all they care about is splitting your face with a morning star.

Well, we set to fightin', and a tough fight it was, especially when it turned out one of 'em was a shaman, and tried to lay a whammy on us. He cast Hold Person, which mercifully most of us avoided, except for poor Keitel, who froze up solid. While Half Klint and Markeva dragged him off, the Deacon got pissed and decided turnabout was fair play, and Hold Personed the mangy, pantless bastard right on back, rooting him to the spot.

Our monstery foes fought on in spite of losing their higher up, and it took us some doin' to take 'em down. Generally, bugbears represent the deluxe in terms of simple dungeon thug types, being big and tough and hitting like a freight train loaded with bricks. Kashim gave 'em some good hits, as did the Deacon laying about with his Mojo Stick, while Half Klint returned and slipped around to do some solid backstabbing. Markeva finished off the shaman with a coup de grace, and soon we'd handled 'em. Then again, I had to pour a bit of my precious store of Cure Light Wounds spells on the lower level guys who were taken down pretty far, plus one to restore locomotion to our hapless paladin.

From there, we started to case the joint, checking out the various rooms in the castle, some of which we remembered from before our forcible eviction last time we were here. We managed to map out the first floor, then decided to move on upstairs, where we knew there were more bugbears lurking based on the lovely bowfire we'd weathered crossing the courtyard.

Well, we went up, and found a hall with a bunch of alcoves or chambers, and one of 'em had a bugbear in it with a bow, so we jumped him. I think he managed to wing one of us, but I'm not sure. We charged him and his buddies as they came out of their own alcoves, and soon the battle was joined. In retrospect, it probably would have been better to let them just shoot us, as it was a lot less damaging then when they hit us in hand to hand.

The brutes were soon joined by ANOTHER shaman, who cast hold person and managed to freeze up Kashim, which royally sucked. The thieves dragged him off to shelter in one of the alcoves as the rest of our battered fighters held the line. It was here we rather rued not having interns... I mean any henchmen to help diffuse the punishment we were taking.

The Deacon was forced to make a strategic decision to either stay at the front with a beleagured Keitel and fight or fall back and reanimate Kashim with a Cure Light Wounds spell from a stock of scrolls he was mercifully carrying. Finally, the wisdom of having our best fighter active and fighting over getting a few more magically charged whacks in with my boom stick held sway, and I fell back to the back nine while Frog and Keitel fought on, with some good results for Frog, who I guess was pissed at taking so many arrows as he lumbered across the courtyard.

As we fell back, another front opened up down a side hall with a bugbear with a bow and ANOTHER shaman. Crap! How many of these guys did they have? The first shaman cast a fear spell on Frog (I think.) sending him running back to join us. I think we managed to kill the initial group we ran into, and fell back to one of the rooms, with the other two bugbears plus who know how many else getting ready to come after us.

And it was here where we broke off the session.

So yeah, action packed, with a lot of whackin' and tomfoolery. A good birthday session.

Our big strategic flaw, of course, was assuming everything would be okay with the powerful wizard out of town. This, debatably, IS a good thing, 'cos we don't wanna also have to deal with someone who can casually chuck fireballs around and who's pissed at us for breaking into his summer home. The big thing we forgot, however (or several big things, big things with gorilla arms and pointy ears and heavy maces for smashing faces) was his housekeeping staff.

So yeah, we're in hot water. All good though. We'll git 'em. Somehow...

Thanks again to Paul and the rest of the 10d gamers for a rip snortin' session. It was a most enjoyable birthday activity!

Breeshk. BOOOM!

P.S.: It can't be helped. My conception of Tevlar is starting to resemble this image very strongly.

The Holy Grail and D&D, like peanut butter and chocolate...

LL at Paul's: Snow forts for everyone!

2011-01-15T21:01:00.000-08:00

Last week's session was cancelled by the northeastern snowpocalpyse.
So here's Joe Violence fighting a yeti.

LL at Paul's: Methodical cartography.

2011-01-09T11:44:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year, everybody!

With barely pause before the final strains of Auld Lang Syne faded, we were back around Paul's gaming table with our dice at the ready.

In particular, I was ready with an awesome dice my bro gave me for Christmas, that lights up when you get a natural 20! Sweet!

Sadly, I didn't get to really use it this session, as it was mostly careful exploring of the vacated interior of Skull Mountain.

Yeah, Skull Mountain. Having not been masticated enough by this hideous warren of deathtraps, we now stood at the mouth of the skull ready to go in and make a thorough exploration, which we did.

I don't need to go over the particulars, mostly what we did was map out an accurate picture of the lower levels, assembing our three half completed maps from our prior forays into a cohesive whole.

We applied the 10' pole liberally, and avoided all but one of the pit traps, which caught Kashim for a some minor damage. We also managed to neatly evade an arrow trap that guarded what seemed to be a map room, by spotting it's trigger and firing it off while nobody was in its sights. We made note of where the arrow hit on the map. (Paul, you ABSOLUTELY have to put something cool there! Rule of cool demands it!)

The only real trouble we had was when we set off a rolling boulder trap in one hallway that was hidden behind a door. Hearth and Half-Klint, our new halfling theif, both got crushed up pretty bad, but the Deacon healed them (what can I say, it's tough being 1st. level). Then there was the secondary effect of a bunch of Indiana Jones jokes, which we mostly avoided.

It's an occupational hazard in this biz...

Finally, we made our way down to the counting room/scrying room/aaghthestatue'sbreathinglavaonus level, and hied ourselves to the scrying pool. We got a LOT of info out of that.

Turns out, the way the thing works is if you drop some liquid from the black flask into the pool and think of something or someplace you've seen before, a vision of it appears in the pool. We found that stuff we hadn't seen, like treasure from the list we found in the counting room or Prince Gway, wouldn't show up. (As well as completely imaginary things, like a hobgoblin posing as Prince Hank.) So we lined up our priorities and took turns tuning in the Scrymaster 2000.

Restenford was wrecked up, and the castle was under seige, which we knew as players but didn't know as characters, so that was good dot connecting. We saw a lot of undead shambling around, which wasn't a good sign. (Although at my level I'm getting so if it's less than, say, a ghoul, it's not much of a bother. Frikkin' ghouls...)

Bridgefair was still standing and was thus far unattacked, but it looked like the forces there were busy building up fortifications.

Pelltar was at some kind of wizardly meeting with a bunch of high and mighty types. We spotted heraldry of a gold griffon on white and blue in the background.

Tevlar turned out to be at the same meeting, which I guess isn't that big a surprise since the guy mows his lawn (and by lawn, I mean a castle courtyard swarming with skeletons and zombies) with fireballs. This led to a larcenous gleam in the party's eyes, since if Tevlar was out at this big mystical Shriners convention his castle was unoccupied...

Shriners are awesome, btw, and I mean that totally un-ironically.

We tuned in on Tinhelm, and saw he was living it up in some tavern that Kashim recognised from his bar crawl of Bridgefair, no doubt on the ill gotten profits from OUR horses. So perhaps a little track and smack would be in order for our shiny hatted former employee.

Once we'd exhausted our options with the Scry-o-mat, we decided to go back to the skull shrine (the one with the idol/statue that nearly tpk'd us.) and check around. We closed out the session standing before the deadly carven lizard man, stroking our chins and pondering its mysteries, trying to figure out whether they could be plumbed without it coming alive and kicking the crap out of us.

So a good, methodical session, more about exploring than action. Thanks to Half-Klint's grabby little mitts we got a little bit of XP out of the glowing candelabra in the room where we'd found Belarus Beechson (returned safely to the shrine of the Good Earth in Greenwild), The Prince (ironically killed by lava), and caravan guy (mauled by giant wolves). We also got a little XP bonus from avoiding the arrow trap at the map room so deftly. Better than a peck in the head with a sharp stick, as my Dad would say.

If we could clear out the stank of evil from this place, it would make a pretty awesome fort, but that's a tall order. Right now, I think we just wanna cash in and move on to greener (or to be honest, golder) pastures.

Thanks again to Paul for running, and a tip o' the hat to the rest of the 10d gamers for another solid session.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-25T08:35:00.000-08:00

Ultrasanta! Ultrasanta! Here he comes, from the sky!

Ultrasanta! Ultrasanta! Watch the reindeer fly!

In his super sled he comes! From a million miles away!

From a distant North Pole land! Comes our hero, Ultrasanta!

Merry Christmas, Everybody!

Have a safe, happy, and prosperous New Year in 2011!

LL at Paul's: First Round Draft Picks.

2010-12-19T15:07:00.000-08:00

Howsa dooza.

Once again, I am here to report on my weekly Labyrinth Lord game at my buddy Paul's.

This session was one of those sessions that was mostly logistics and long term strategic discussions. We'd lost two player characters and three henchmen in our last raid on the dreadful Skull Mountain, so there were replacements in order.

Our first order of business was seeing if we could get our veteran thief Klint raised. We had a fairly intact corpse (sans leg from an earlier misadventure) and a small ruby of considerable value for a proper sacrifice, so we hurried back to the town of Greenwild to hopefully prevail on the Temple of the Good Earth (who also make FANTASTIC bread, btw) to bring our late, lamented comrade back from the great beyond.

Well, the temple was happy to do the ceremony, since we'd struck a blow for goodness and niceness in wiping out the evil cult of the Obsidian Heart. They struck up a marathon chant, bathing the corpse in water from their recently reconsecrated holy font. After several hours, bupkus. Klint apparently didn't want to come back from whatever afterlife he'd gone to. (Or couldn't come back. He's either doing the waltz in heaven or tap dancing on a hotplate in the other place...)

The real reason for this is that Klint's player tried rolling up a replacement character and liked him better. So, the ceremony didn't work. We got the keep the ruby, tho, so all good.

From there, we got to discussing what we would try to tackle next, since we were kind of between epic quests. A faction of us, the Deacon included, wanted to go back to Skull Mountain and clear it out once and for all. An okay idea, but the High Priest of the Temple pointed out that what we'd be tugging the tail on was an evil god. Way above our pay grade, so while he applauded our intentions, the execution of our plan probably would result in a whuppin' for the good guys.

Other options were to go to Restenford and see what the scene was like, or do the same at Bridgefair, which when last we left was buckling down for a siege from the same force that knocked over Restenford.

As we plotted and planned, we also went out and ran some errands. Greenwild was kind of middle of the road between sleepy little Restenford and big bustling Bridgefair, so it had a decent selection of goods and services.

First we hit the jewel merchant, to sell off the various gems and jewelry we'd picked up along the way. After selling all the bling except for the ruby, which would be handy in the event of needing to get someone raised from the dead, we pooled up the cash from Klint's bag of holding and the stuff we'd picked up in Skull mountain and divvied it all up, with each of us pulling down about 100 gp (which using Pauls house ruled money system wherein a Gold Piece is the new Platinum Piece).

We then dug up a mage, who had kind of a hippy sounding name that I'm afraid I don't recall right now. We had him ID all the potions and magical gear we'd stripped from frikkin' Cooper and his cult. Turns out the slimeball was wearing +2 leather armor and a ring of protection, and wielding a +1 Mace with some other magic on it that the mage couldn't identify.

After some discussion, the Deacon got the leather armor and Ring, with the understanding that the ring was party property until such time as the Deacon gave up a magic item divvy the next time it came up. So now I'm up to a beefier 3 AC from my perennial 5, which is good. I'm not usually in the front row, since my Mojo Stick allows me to attack from the 2nd. rank and heal up the pointy end of the party, but still it's nice to be a little tougher, after last week's fight with Cooper and the bludgeoning we took from the lava breathing statue.

He also identified the black and white flasks. The white flask held a powder which when mixed with water gave off clouds of poison gas. So it was very much the superweapon that some of the party see it as. We'll have to think of how best to use it without accidentally murdering ourselves in the process. The black flask held a magic oil that when added to a scrying pool it was keyed to could be used to view remote locations.

This led us to make a decision on our next mission. We figured we'd go back to Skull Mountain, avoiding taking on the evil volcano god that lives there, but clearing out what lesser monsters we might find. From there we'd use the scrying pool to check out Bridgefair and Restenford and see what that haps are.

Our final errand, besides buying up sufficient vittles for the trip, was to bulk up the roster a bit. So we hit The Pikeman, a local dive where we might hire some muscle.

There we met a halfling thief who claimed to be Klint's brother. Apparently Klint was a halfling afflicted with gigantism all along. Also, apparently they both belonged to a thieves brotherhood where all the members were named Klint, or perhaps Klint was a title, kind of like Darth. Since it was all there in the former Klint's will, we had no choice but to believe him, so now Half Klint has joined the party as our thief, inheriting his "brother's" Bag of Holding, his magic hat of seeing in the dark (which now SIX men have died for), his Ring of Feather Fall, his magic Sword +1(+2 vs. Undead), and his spellbook.

Our call for henchmen brought us two applicants, an earnest Paladin (whose name eludes me) and a shifty guy in black who seemed to be all about the stabbin'. We decided to go with the Pally and give the shifty guy a thanks but no thanks. He got a little rambunctious about it, threatening us that we'd regret it. Talk to the Mojo Stick, buddy...

Anyway, that was that, and we set out again for the Dead Hills and Skull Mountain, scarce believing that we were actually going back there for another incursion. I guess accruing experience points doesn't necessarily imply learning from experience.

Our trip was largely trouble free, except on the third day when my statement of trouble free-ness was emphatically contradicted.

We were plodding along thru open country when a huge winged shape flew overhead, blotting out the sun. It dove on us with a shriek, and buried its talons and hind leg claws into one of the draft horses pulling the cart. A gryphon! Wowsers!

So we all charged in to chase it off, and it turned into a pretty epic slugfest. Hearth's Ring of Animal Control had no effect, probably because it couldn't tune in the station properly between "lion" and "eagle". I whaled at it with the Mojo Stick but kept missing like a bozo. The thing had a wicked Claw/Claw/Bite routine, and mangled up Half Klint and tossed him aside like a chew toy. The halfling scurried under a bush, vanishing from sight.

The thing also laid a pretty serious lacerating on Frog, our former henchman turned full fledged PC. We were concerned that his player, who'd also played Liam, Gentleman Jack, and The Prince, was gonna have another dead character on his hands, but thankfully his luck and armor held. I guess being mauled by a gryphon wasn't ironic enough a death for a player who's trademark is becoming death by irony. Frog getting killed off by a gryphon was only ironic in the Alanis Morisette sense of the word (i.e. not ironic in the least, and you really should look up the definition of the word before doing a song about it.)

Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?

Still, we had the beast outnumbered and eventually the swords and spears of our fighters took the creature down. After we got everybody patched up and took our trophies from the creature's plume, we shoved it to the side of the road and moved on. (We probably could have eaten it, but it's hard to tell whether you should have red wine or white wine with gryphon...)

From there it was a fairly uneventful trip to the cave at the base of Skull Mountain where we set up camp. After a little debate about which approach to take, we decided to just walk on up to the front of the skull face and go in the "mouth".

And that's where we left off, standing on the platform and gazing in on the eerie stillness of the cave where so far we've taken a heavy weight beating every time we've gone in. Here's hoping for better things in 2011, since this is probably the final Labyrinth Lord session report for this year.

Thanks again to Paul for running an awesome show all year. Lookin' forward to seein' what you have in store for us next year. And I tip my hat to my fellow 10d gamers.

See you guys on the flipside.

LL at Paul's: A Burning Sensation

2010-12-12T15:32:00.000-08:00

Wowsers! Here we are again!

Okay, so last week we'd geared up, staffed up, and were ready to set out and go kick the collective kiesters of the evil volcano cult/thieves guild up on Skull mountain. We'd added three more henchmen, and a new player character in the form of an island prince who went by the name, The Prince. Our senior thief Klint was sporting a peg leg after having lost his leg to the cult's major domo, the sinister Cooper. We were all spoilin' for a little bit o' the dish best served cold.

So off we set from Greenwild, taking the long road through the dead hills. We met some wildlife along the way, but each time Hearth and his magic Ring of Aminal Control spared us a mauling. He sent a bear back into it's cave before it could block our path, and he sent a mountain lion, I think, off on a long run so we could finish our lunches at a roadside picnic table in peace. So yeah, handy thing, that ring.

We got to the hidey cave at the foot of Skull Mountain and found some alarming changes to the landscape. The grass and shrubs that had formerly concealed the front entrance had been torn away and trampled down, as if a furious battle had been fought here. We saw many footprints, and some splashes of blood, that didn't bode well. Checking inside, we saw a big black heart had been scrawled on the back wall. This led us to surmise that the Obsidian Heart had sprung an attack on whoever was here, best guess would be Bors and the Haberdashers, and things didn't go so well for our hat wearing friends. Hmmm. Hmmmmmmm.

So, we figured we ought git to it while the gittin' was good. We set up Darius and Garant at the cave with the horses n' mules and whatnot. There was no pulling the wagon inside, but we told 'em if things go hairy go hide in the cave and save what they could.

Our hirelings secured, the party of nine bold adventurers/henchmen set out to climb the mountain and slip into the caldera at the top, as we'd done before. The sinister drums were booming loudly from the depths of the mountain, but we didn't let it bug us. Yeah, keep drumming, culty, easier for us to find ya. Creeps...

We lowered each party member down in turn, with our new freshman thief Hare Sarlickson bringing up the rear with the rope and the Ring of Feather Fall that was our insurance policy against sudden vertical catastrophes. We crept into the crevasse, and made our way to the hole that led to a shaft that wound its way down to the counting room. We lowered Klint down head first by the rope, with instructions to either tug on the rope or tap out Morse code with his peg if he got into trouble.

Everything was clear at the hidden entry to the counting room, so we all went down. When Klint opened the door, there was nothing but darkness, which was a good sign. Nobody in there (unless the cult had some morlocks or something working for them).

We decided our first order of business would be to map out the rest of this bottom level, with an eye toward finding the contents of that nifty treasure list we'd found in the counting room last time. So we followed the hallways to the south, and stopped to check out the door that we'd ignored last time we were down.

This led to a small storage room lined with shelves. There was a coffer and a bag in here, which we decided to just sweep into Klint's Bag of Holding and deal with whatever locks or traps might be on them later. We searched the walls and shelves thoroughly, but didn't find any additional hidden doors or compartments.

We then proceeded to make our way down to the intersection where Evund Knifeweilder, our shortest term henchman ever, got shanked by the lurking Cooper. To the east was the large temple with the reptilian monster altar and the skulls lining the walls. We'd been here, and would check it out later.

To the west, we found a smaller room with a pool of some mysterious liquid in the middle. All around the chamber on the floors and walls a bunch of mystic type symbols were scrawled, and glowed faintly, I think. Unnerved, we didn't want to enter, so we had Klint cast his one spell, Detect Magic. He spotted some magical stuff in an alcove in the corner.

Taking note of that, we escorted him around to the other rooms so that he could suss out the magic stuff before the spell wore off. In the Gorn room, he saw that the statue was magical, and I think a couple other things were giving off some vibes but I don't rightly remember what.

With a couple minutes left on his detectometer, we sent him back to the room with the tapestries and the candelabra where we'd found The Prince, Belanus Birchson, and the late, lamented Caravan Guy. Klint let out a shout of surprise as a couple of lizard men jumped him. I guess the scaly bastards had been hiding around a corner as we passed.

We galloped to his aid and started smackin. Got a couple good blammos in with the Mojo Stick, and Kashim was slicing and dicing nicely. Hare tried to get in a backstab and nearly got killed hard, coming away with only 1 HP to his name. After we'd put the lizard men out of our misery we instructed the little guy to stay the heck outta combat from here on out.

After dragging the once and future handbags into a corner, we decided to give the room a once over. We pulled down all the tapestries and searched around for secret doors, but didn't find any. Aside from the glowing candelabra, which probably just had a Continual Light spell on it, this place was a wash.

So we decided to go poke around in the reptile idol room. We got busy searching the walls, checking over the carved skulls and other bits of grisly decor. Frog, our senior henchman, found an actual skull popped in an alcove among the carved ones. We checked it out thoroughly but didn't find anything of immediate interest.

We were nervous about the big magical idol, depicting a reptilian humanoid seemingly in mid stride passing through solid stone, with its clawed hand held up as if it were accepting a donation. We tried putting the skull there, but it didn't do anything. In fact, I don't know what it was we did to upset it. It just started moving and attacked us!
Yeah. So we formed up and started trying to fight back, with the guys with magical weapons taking the front. We got in some good hits on the thing, as far as I can tell, but it kinda trumped us all when it started barfing lava all over us.

Yeah, right off I think one of the miner brothers got his face set on fire, and the other one took it in the knee. A couple of gouts of burning rock later and they were crisped. The Prince got it really bad, a couple times. Before we knew it he was dead, and this particular player's third character had suffered another tragic, ironic death.

(Namely, his elven ranger, Liam O'Gara, was mauled by a cougar driven out of the woods by a forest fire he'd set. Gentleman Jack Getz, the foppish dandy, died naked in the form of a pig. And now a Polynesian styled Prince had died from lava burns. Farewell, sweet prince. We hardly knew ye... We'll never forget your sacrifice.)

Things were looking damn grim, and so the Deacon started telling the surviving henchmen to run for it. Klint hobbled away after I healed him up enough to move. It was all I could do to get Kashim to peel off. He wanted to go down fighting. I wanted to go.

Finally I persuaded him, and we scampered away, down by three guys. The thing didn't give chase, instead heading back to the wall and merging back into its former place.

So... ow! We regrouped at the branch of the two corridors and caught our breath. The Deacon used up all of his healing, including the scroll and potion of extra healing we'd purchased in Greenwild. That got Frog and Kashim up and functional, and cancelled everybody's critical injuries. We'd taken a hard tap to the face and had a bloody nose, so our earlier bravado had kind of changed to desperate fatalism. We still had to fight our way out of the mountain, or climb back up the half pipe and slink away in defeat.

We decided to go back to the chamber with the dark pool and all the magical markings and grab the magic stuff we saw there at least. This turned out to be a couple of flasks, a white one full of white powder and a black one full of a black oily substance. We'd obviously been hoping for healing potions, but c'est la donjon. We started to experiment, mixing a drop of the powder with the oil. That made a sludgy goop that just laid there.

We gave the pool of water the once over, and determined by lowering one of our magical, glowing Continual Light rocks down on a rope that it was about eight feet deep. Maybe there was something down there. We decided it would be the height of stupidity to go check.

So we settled for a lesser stupidity. Still fiddling with the flasks' contents, we took a pinch of the white powder and dropped it in the dark liquid. This caused billowing clouds of choking gas to rise up from the pool, filling the chamber. We all started coughing and hacking and making saves. Everybody made it except for our two thieves, Klint and Hare, who collapsed. We grabbed them and dragged them out. Much to our dismay, when we got clear, we found we were dragging a pair of corpses!

Dang... Near TPK and this was only room 3. Our forays into Skull Mountain were very Hobbesian... Nasty, Brutish, and Short. Particularly grievous for me was the loss of Klint, who was the only other character besides the Deacon who'd been with the party since the start. Man...

Now we were in survival and GTFO mode, with only four guys left. We decided that we would try to bring Klint's body out and hopefully find someplace that would do a Raise Dead. (This was less from story reasons as it was 'cos we'd killed him while his player was absent.) So we set about lightening the load 'cos we had to travel light. We dumped out his bag of holding, and lo and behold there was a TON of cash and gems in there that he'd obviously innocently forgotten to tell us about. Yeah... Maybe Klint's loss wasn't so grievous after all...

Still, we figured we'd raise him if we could, despite that. We chucked any extra gear, including his peg leg, and stuffed his carcass in the bag. We opened the sack and coffer we'd found in the store room (and by open, I mean slash/smash open.) and found more money and gems, and a couple of potion vials. Sadly, one of the vials got smashed as we roughhoused the coffer open, but all in all we cashed in pretty good.

So we filled the Bag of Holding with Klint and cash and made our way toward the stairs in the counting room. Our route out the caldera was closed to us now that both guys who could have made the climb were dead.

We made our way up the stairs, and found ourselves in the trappy labyrinth where we'd taken such a pounding in our first foray. Eventually, by carefully following the twists and turns, we managed to connect the tunnels to our existing map, and navigated our way to the surface after stepping gingerly over tripwires and trapdoors.

When we got to the upper level, we came to the room with the two drums, and found a couple guys taking a smoke break after a long session of drumming. We jumped 'em and killed 'em where they stood, and then rolled onward to the room with the dark stone statue. There, we headed up into the watch rooms and brought the fight to the cultists on guard up there.

Kashim ran into the room with the brazier and shoved one guy's face into the fire, while Frog and The Deacon went after the other guy. We had 'em dropped before they could put up any resistance.

We then headed down the other tunnel leading to the other eyesocket of the skull. One of the guys there had managed to nock an arrow, which he promptly shot thru the Deacon's leg, temporarily laming him. Kashim and Frog finished the bastard off, while the Deacon pulled out one of the flasks we'd just found, hoping it was healing potion. Mercifully it was Extra Healing, so my critical went away and I got back 2d6 pts.

We looked out the eye socket, and saw a big torchlight jamboree going on out on the platform out front. There were drugged out cultists lying around all over, and a pile of dead bodies at the center. We saw three figures in cloaks and robes go running in through the skull mouth. Trouble!

We ran down to head 'em off, with The Deacon warming up his Hold Person spell and Hearth prepping Sleep. We jumped out into the hall and let loose with our spells. One each of the two lesser cult leaders got neutralized by our spells, one slouching off to dreamland while the other froze in place.

That left us Cooper to deal with. He led with a Hold Person of his own, and thankfully managed to connect with Hearth, freezing the elf in place while Kashim, Frog, and The Deacon charged him.

From there we commenced to hack, slash, and smash. Cooper was tough, and probably had some kind of magical protection. He started chanting as if he was summoning something, raving about the Avatar coming to kill us all. (I'm not sure if he meant big blue cat people or little bald kids with arrows tattooed on their heads...) The Deacon kept whiffing with his Mojo Stick, which sucked 'cos I really wanted to knock the bastard's teeth in with a little BreeshkBOOM. He nailed me good on my hand with a mace, taking me to crit and putting me out of the fight. It was really hairy, 'cos I sure as HECK didn't want to be taken out by some wild eyed enemy cleric. That would have sucked.

Eventually, Kashim and Frog brought the smackdown, with Frog wielding Klint's fancy magic sword, and they brought the villain down.

Serves ya right, ya freak!

After catching our breath, we went out onto the platform and set t' stabbin' all the zoned out cultists. Good riddance to bad rubbish. We were mildly bummed to find the bodies they'd been using for their little Lollapalooza were Bors and his men. The Haberdashers had worn their last hats.

We lined 'em up as respectfully as we could, and limped down the mountain to the hidey cave to heal up, vowing to come back and claim the mountain for ourselves or something, or at least get our guys some decent burials, now that the Obsidian Heart was out of commission.

And that's where we left off.

Whew...

Real nail biter of a session there. We got pounded Old School style, nine guys down to four, and from really nasty causes too, like lava and poison gas. We came REALLY close to TPK. It was as close as the Deacon had been to goin' t' meet the Allmaker since he'd been crushed about the chest by that giant crab statue.

It was awesome!

That's what old school play is about, baby. Thrills, chills, spills, and high body counts. We cashed in big on XP, and our faithful hench honcho Frog leveled up. It was satisfying to take out the cult, and it was a really close fight too.

So now we got a vacated, novelty volcano, and two new characters that need to be made. Liam/GentelmanJack/The Prince's player has decided to just run Frog from here on out, so now it's up to Yøgund/Jantz's player and Klint's player to bring us some new hotness.

All told, a solid night of gaming. Thanks once again to Paul and the 10d gamers for another rip snortin' session.

LL at Paul's: Dog and Pony Show.

2010-12-05T12:53:00.000-08:00

Ho there, ladies and gents.

Another week, another gripping tale of Labyrinth Lording from the table of Paul and the 10d gamers.

So when last we left off we'd dragged our half mangled carcasses back to the hidey cave after making two assaults on Skull Mountain and the evil thieves guild/cult we'd found there. We'd managed to liberate three prisoners from the depths of the tunnels, and once they'd snapped out of their drug induced catatonia there were introductions all around.

Foremost among them was a swarthy, tattooed fellow from a far off island kingdom to the south, who's name escapes me at this moment but who claimed to be a prince of his land. In general, the fellow's name was difficult to call to mind, so we took to just calling him The Prince (in much the same way my character is known as The Deacon). He was a fighting man, and seemed game for ongoing adventure, but he copped an awful lot of attitude for a guy with no pants.

The other two rescuees were mercifully more clothed, and one of them was, I'm quite happy to say, the object of our quest, Belanus Beechson the wayward acolyte of the temple of the Good Earth in Greenwild. The other guy was a merchant caravan guard who'd fallen afoul of the Obsidian Order. His name also escapes me, but that's all right because sadly he didn't last very long...

As night fell and we bedded down, around about the second watch we heard howling coming from outside the cave, and soon two gimundous wolves came sniffing around looking for a late night snack. They were as big as ponies, and The Deacon was afraid we'd have to do some more lycanthropy checks.

Ponies, I tell you! Pooooooooonieeeeeees!

Well, turns out this was a prime opportunity for our elven wizard Hearth to test out that Ring of Animal Control that The Deacon gave him. He reached out and took control of three of the brutes, stilling them and making them docile, while Kashim leapt to the attack with slashing sword to fight off the one that was dragging caravan guard guy away screaming.

After a furious fight, the beast lay dead, and three of its fellows were mesmerized by Hearth's ring. Sadly, caravan guy had succumbed to his wounds and lay dead as well. We stabbed the rest of the pack and stacked 'em up outside, then buried caravan guy next to Jantz the Ranger in the back of the cavern. (Sorry caravan guy. Your name's inscribed on the rock where you'll always be remembered... somehow... Meh...)

Thankfully, the fact that Hearth could control the beasts indicated that they were just regular old worgs or something, and that I wouldn't have to do any regular checkups to make sure somebody in the party wasn't gonna go all lycanthropic on us.

So anyway, the rest of the night passed uneventfully, save for a spirited debate on what our next move was gonna be. We could either head for Bridgefair, which was nearer and had more stuff, or we could make our way to Greenwild and drop off Belanus for the deposit.

We decided to head for Bridgefair. Partly so we could do some shopping/selling, but also 'cos that pointy eared bastard Tinhelm had stolen our horses and we wanted to git him while the gittin' was good.

So we trudged our way over hill and dale, and if there was gonna be a title for this stretch of travel, it would be "Hearth's Wild Kingdom". We had a couple encounters, and in both cases they were easily dealt with through our elf wizard's new found control over the critters.

Once, as we passed through a wooded area, we chanced upon a stampede of muskrats crossing our path, followed closely by a pair of giant weasels. The creatures turned on us, their fangy jaws slavering, but Hearth took one over and had it spring at it's companion, resulting in a big, bloody weasel fight. Once one had overcome the other, we slew the survivor lest it turn on us next. Weasels... they totally want to rip your flesh...

Next time, use more chlorine in the pool, buddy.

After having conquered the giant weasels, we made our way along to Bridgefair. When we got there, we found the city prepping for a siege, as an unknown army based in Restenford was making its way toward them.

After consulting with the gate guard, we opted to take a quick jaunt into town before the gates closed, maybe for good. Well, those of us who weren't wanted and liable to be killed on sight went in.

We hit the mercantile section of town, first stopping at our favorite place, the gnomish jewelers. Sadly, the adorable little guys weren't buying after having been robbed of their gold by some enterprising thieves. I guess we caught them while they were a little short. HAH!

... ahem ...

We did pay for them to appraise the handful of jewels we'd gotten hold of in our recent adventures. Unfortunately, they weren't worth much more than 2 gold apiece, but still it was better than nothin'.

We thanked them and wished them luck, then headed over to the horse trading/ration selling part of the market. There we bought up a stock of trail rations for our long journey to Greenwild, and purchased a couple mules to haul the food and to help along our recently handicapabled' companion Klint.

As the sun set, we hied ourselves out of town, asking at the gates if anyone had seen an elf in a big shiny hat lead a train of horses over the past couple days. Turns out one of them had, which was a disappointment to some of the party members who'd hoped it was all a big, expensive misunderstanding. So yeah, we've got an elvish horse thief on our hit list.

The real bummer of it all is there's no getting those horses back. They'll have been drafted into the war effort, and since Prince Hank seems to favor a head on pike style of justice there's no real legal recourse for it. Ah well. I'll miss ya, Buttercup.

After spending a bit more than we should have on ferry rides to keep a river between us and the approaching army, we set out from Bridgefair and headed toward Greenwild.

As we passed thru the hills, we encountered a bunch of wild horses, and Hearth unlimbered his magic ring again, culling two of them from the herd while the rest galloped away. The Prince was ready and willing to give chase to them, but we decided we were happy enough with this horsy windfall and called it a good outing. As it was, the wild mustangs were difficult for anyone but fighters to control, so with a couple extra rides we continued on our way.

After a couple more days uneventful travel, we made it to Greenwild as night fell. We hustled Belanus Beechson to the Temple of the Good Earth and presented him, and folks were all glad to see him. Thus, we closed the book on SOMETHING at least. Kashim's public nudity and befouling of a sacred aquifer were forgiven, and the priests even were willing to tell him about the Good Earth and the wonderful plan it had for his life. They were also cool enough to put us all up for as long as we wanted to stay in Greenwild, which is groovy. The bread was good, at least.

So now we were settled and feeling something of a financial pinch. We re-encountered Garant Graywand, our groom, and Darius the dog handler, which was awesome. Also awesome, after our big horse loss, was the fact that we still had our two drafters and the cart, as well as our faithful dogs, Yøgund and Liam. Garant was glad to see us, and we set him to work training our newly acquired riding horses. Hirelings rock!

With that in hand, we decided what we wanted to do next was go back to Skull Mountain and clean the place out once and for all. The longer we let 'em sit, the more poor schmoes would get captured and sacrificed, and plus that treasure ledger we read in the counting room was pretty attractive. So we set about arming and equipping ourselves for a big expedition and frontal assault.

We bought a bunch of rations, and went to the Good Earth temple and got hold of a vial of holy water from the newly re-filtered fountain, as well as a three dose vial of healing potion and a healing scroll with three charges at pretty reasonable prices. We found a carpenter who sold us a good peg leg, lightly used, for Klint. And finally, we went around to the tavern and recruited another bunch of henchmen. We got three after we made our pitch, two burly miners named Ouri of the Evening Eye and Malatier the Boar, and a jittery little guy who called himself Hare Sarlickson, who claimed to be "fast! fast!". So two fighters and a thief. Good haul, all told, we need a few extra coffin stuffers to round out the group now that we're down to just Frog.

And thus, armed up and kitted out, we rolled out the Greenwild gates, destination... Skull Mountain.

And that's where we left off.

So yeah, a good session. One of those that's more shopping and book-keeping than adventure, but still some interesting stuff with Hearth and the magic critter gitter ring. I'm of course concerned about Bridgefair falling under the eye of whatever conquering force put the nom nom nom on Restenford, but heck, I guess if we keep a couple towns ahead of 'em we'll turn out okay. I hear Rosewater's nice this time of year.

Anyway, thanks again to Paul for running this hootenanny and thanks to the internationally flavored 10d gamers for being such a fun group.

Poonieeeees!

LL at Paul's: If at first you don't succeed...

2010-11-28T14:42:00.001-08:00

Guh... Turrrrkkeeyyyy....

Okay, so here we are back again at the ostensibly weekly recount of my action packed Labyrinth Lord game with my buddy Paul and the 10d Gamers. Last week, being so close to the holiday, was canceled, which is good since otherwise this would be another of my increasingly frequent double postings. So let us begin, shall we?

When last we left off, our gratuitous band of dungeon duffers had lowered ourselves down the caldera of a smoking volcano with a huge skull carved in the side, to take our vengeance on the bandit gang/cult that made their home there. After getting cornered by bowfire and fire of a non-bow variety we'd lost our trusty ranger Jantz, and had come very close to a tpk.

So back we went. We lowered our elf mage Hearth down and he discovered a small crevice along a tiny ledge with a combination of his night vision and his uncanny elf ability to find secret doors. Then, one by one we lowered down, each party member wearing a Ring of Feather Fall in case of emergencies, which we ferried up as each of us took a turn, until finally Klint climbed down using his thief climbing skill, coiling up the rope along with him. It concealed our tracks, but also made this a one way trip.

We inched our way along the small tunnel in pitch blackness, with Hearth in the lead with a rope tied around his waist that we all held onto. He came across a 2 foot hole in the floor, that he marked with a candle and stepped over.

Eventually, he came to a wall of inpenetrable blackness, opaque to all forms of vision. I seem to recall we rearranged the order and sent Klint up first, with his magic see in the dark hat. He proceeded thru the darkness, armed with a hastily planned out code for how many tugs on the rope meant what. After a short time, the rope started tugging, so we warily crept forward.

I don't remember the circumstances exactly (too much pie in the intervening time), but I do recall here that my metagame senses were tingling. Paul went off with the lead guy's player for a sideboard, and when he came back his descriptions of the rope signals and such made me really paranoid that our scout had been eaten and something was trying to fish us in.

Well, it turned out that wasn't the case. We made it to the other side of the 20' of blackness intact, although what we found there was in no way pleasant. In a forty foot diameter room we found an unholy idol that just RADIATED bad vibes. Far as I can figure, this is where Cooper the thief turned high priest found what passes for his religion.

I was really tempted to cast Bless on the thing to see what might happen, but on the other hand you don't pull the "self destruct" lever on anything without a clear way out, so we rain checked desecrating (consecrating? resecrating?) the evil altar. Probably a good thing. Klint touched it and got drained several points of strength. This was a seriously angry piece of furniture.

So we moved on, heading through a passage to the south and down. With painful memories of our prior experience down here in the Obsidian Order's complex, we were really careful/paranoid about traps, checking at every juncture we came to.

As we nosed around, it eventually became clear we were on the same level as we explored last week, with the pit traps and the fake doors and whatnot, and thus were able to connect the two maps.

We eventually got the the place where Jantz and Frog had fallen afoul of the crushing blocks trap, as our raspy voiced henchman recognised the hallway. Since he recalled a tripwire somewhere, we carefully searched the floor until we found it, noting it for future reference. Satisfied that we'd circumvented this trap, we pressed on.

And hit the second tripwire for the trap around the corner, causing a crushalanche of crushing.

Sigh... Sometimes it hurts...

Nobody was killed, but we all got seriously crunched up. Them's the breaks when 80% of the party is still first level or just slightly above. I think there were several crits that caused the Deacon to have to use up all of his Cure Light Wounds to get everybody moving.

And move we did, the heck outta dodge. Mercifully (more or less) by connecting up our maps we knew there was a way up and out, through the mouth of the big skull and down the mountain.

So we backtracked, passing by areas we remembered well due to the scars and burns, heading up the stairs and into the chamber with the black statue, then out.

As the only guys still functioning, the Deacon and Kashim staged a lightning raid on the guard post above, hitting the two bandits standing watch and taking them out before they knew what hit 'em. That cleared the way for us to get out without arrows and flaming oil chasing us, and we scampered back to the hideout cave that Bors and the Haberdashers had shown us to rest and recoup.

So flash forward to a couple days later. We've rested and healed, replenished our spells, and so we formed a plan, which was pretty much the same plan as before since there's no way the denizens of the mountain would expect us to do the same thing twice in a row. And for all they knew shoddy rope was what caused the crushing block trap to go off.

So up the mountain and down the caldera for us again. Same method of descent, lowered elf, ring of Feather Fall, Klint klimbing down after us, down the tunnel.

But here we changed our plan. We decided to see where the vertical shaft that Hearth had left the candle beside went to. We lowered Klint down with a rope around his ankles, and he came to a point where the shaft bent until it leveled off to become a tunnel. This he followed, until he came to a secret door leading into an illuminated room of some sort. After several back and forths, we all decided to crawl down there, leaving a rope hooked to the edge of the hole in case we needed to beat a not particularly hasty retreat.

Klint took the lead, and opened up what turned out to be a hatch underneath a workbench of some kind. Once we made sure the room was empty, we poked our noses out and checked the room out.

It seemed to be some kind of counting house, which implied *treasure* someplace nearby. There was the workbench, with several slots marked with different denominations of coins over buckets on the floor. There was a desk, that contained a ledger listing an awesome stash of treasure. (And if you can't see a hook with a nice juicy worm wriggling on it here, then you need to play more D&D. Do it now! Go!), as well as a magically glowing stone. Along one wall there were several sets of manacles. I guess the bandits did a l'il fact finding, in the medieval sense, in here too. The Deacon searched the writing desk, and palmed the glowing stone as a handy, dandy light source.

There were two exits from this room, so we checked 'em out. One led up to a set of stairs ending in a door, which we left alone thinking since this was probably the "Authorized Personnel Only" area we'd probably set off some kind of trap going thru it.

The other lead to a hall. We crept down it, and found a room off of the right side. Inside, three figures were tied to chairs, blindfolded with their heads lolling as if ensorcelled or knocked out. One was an acolyte of the temple that Kashim' had offended with his mighty nakedness, one was a swarthy gentleman of fighting aspect, and one was nondescript, kind of like a character who hadn't been created yet. The room they were in was painted with crazy, hypnotic patterns, and there was a glowing candelabra on the table.

The Deacon cast Protection from Evil on himself and went in with Kashim to check the prisoners out. They were unresponsive. We were nervous about the glowing object in the middle of the table. Either it was just a light source, or it had some kind of brainwashing or otherwise inimical effect, so we gave it a wide berth. We dragged the hapless captives out of their chairs and out into the hall, where their sluggish movements told us they'd probably been drugged. (Okay, Paul told us they'd probably been drugged, but work with me...)

So we decided to press on, with the contents of the treasure ledger dancing in our heads like sugar plums. We came to a fork in the tunnel, both branches quite dark, and decided to fan out to look down them.

Suddenly, Evund Knifewielder, our henchman, came over with a bad case of stabbing as a sinister figure faded out of the darkness and got the drop on him. One hit and the poor schook was dead. Enraged and confused, we pressed our attack, but found this guy a tough customer. He started throwing cleric spells at us, and managed to avoid my Hold Person. As the fight wore on, he started feeling pressed, and whistled up a bunch of lizard men to come help him.

After a long slugfest, we eventually conquered the lizards, but we were beaten up pretty bad once again. In the most tragic turn of events, Klint took a nasty slash and lost a leg! I used my last Cure Light Wounds to unfreeze Kashim from a Hold Person spell the evil cleric cast.

Still, we figured that this was probably the infamous Cooper, based on his combination of higher level cleric spells and theifly backstab abilities. We couldn't afford to let him get away, so we left Frog watching our suddenly unidextrous thief and the poor drugged up dopes back by the psychedelic room and charged down the tunnel through which Cooper fled.

Once there, we found a huge temple apparently consecrated to some kind of reptilian proto god.

GrrrrrYAYhey!

It was empty, save for the tyrannosaurus idol and a couple of flickering braziers. (Flickering brassieres is a different temple, fraught with different perils.) We couldn't find hide nor hair of Cooper, so we doubled back to rejoin our sizable injured reserve list. Since we had more walking wounded then functional party members, we sadly had to leave Evund's body behind. Here's hopin' it don't come back after us all zombied up. (And in case you get any ideas, Paul, I can turn the crap out of a zombie now, so don't try anything funny...)

We dragged everyone back to the counting room and escaped via the hidden door, dragging a one legged man and a trio of doped up goofballs up the tunnel and then made our nervous way forward through the darkness and into the temple room with the nasty altar. From there we doubled back on our escape path once again, and once again lucked out meeting no resistance. The guard room was empty, so we took off down the mountain to our hidey cave, and that's were we wrapped.

So all told, pretty crazy. Two assaults on the mountain, two times the mountain assaulted us back and took it out of our hides. A lot of near misses and nail biting suspense. This place is HARD!

On the plus side, we figure that the acolyte guy we found was the subject of Kashim's quest spell, so all we have to do is take him back to Wildwood and that will be settled. The other two guys are replacement characters for the late, lamented Jantz and Gentleman Jack Getz, so it'll be interesting to meet 'em. I think we're done with Skull Mountain for now, but we'll probably come back and square up accounts once we've leveled up.

Speaking of which, the Deacon finally made 5th. level this go round, so I now have access to 3rd. level spells like Remove Curse and Cure Disease, which is awesome.

Our other high level character, Klint, is now something of a question. Unfortunately, all this nasty stuff happened to him while his player was out, so I'm not sure how he's gonna want to proceed now that his character is short a leg and strength drained to boot. (Only one boot, though.) Is he gonna strap on a peg leg and soldier on, or is he gonna retire to a farm and spend his days stealing eggs from his chickens? Can't say.

Anyway, all told, more fun than you can shake a 10' pole at. Thanks again to Paul, and to the rest of the 10d gamers for another hoopy session.

LL at Paul's: Double Indemnity

2010-11-14T18:09:00.000-08:00

Aw fer cripes sake...

Geez, I've been pretty remiss at this. Better catch up. There's two sessions worth of action to recount here, so buckle down while I try to slog thru. There were a couple Wednesdays that we didn't play as well, one because Paul was busy having tea and crumpets in England, and one the week before last because we had a critical player shortage for various reasons.

I guess they were all busy with something else...

Okay, so when last I was not being lazy about blogging the sessions, we were all in Elfhold figuring out what our next move was gonna be. We decided that we would head back through the Gloomwood and go to Skull Mountain to take care of Kashim's little curse problem, which was a result of him serving the fantasy schmantasy version of community service for skinny dipping in a temple's holy font one carousy evening.

So we formed up and set out, after going to the elvish equivalent of a tavern and picking up a couple more hirelings to supplement our offensive line. We found two likely subjects, a human in full plate armed with a mace named Evund Knifeweilder and an elf with a fancy helmet who went by the name of Tamar Tinhelm. Since we figured this was gonna be a long, rough journey, we hired 'em both, and after bulking up our rations set out on horseback.

After leaving the elvish lands we retraced our steps along the ruined road through the dark, sinister heart of the Gloomwood, a land that was once an elven kingdom that had kind of turned into a DMZ since a long ago great war between elves and men.

I think the first night we spent camping out was uneventful, but the second night we had another encounter with wereboars. The group that was up on watch included Gentleman Jack Getz, and I think Evund and maybe Jantz. As before trouble came slouching up the road in the form of a big, fat, ugly naked guy.

Getz approached him and got the same slurred demand for food, so he decided to just attack. The creature transformed into its bestial form, and let out a resounding squeal that echoed thru the woods. This meant more trouble was coming. The fight was pretty fierce, and our foppish thief ended up getting wounded so badly he decided to pull back and climb a tree to get out of the creature's reach. Two more boars crashed out of the woods at the creature's summons and charged to the attack with fierce tusks. The exact details of the fight are hazy by now, but I think our henchman Frog and maybe one of the new guys took care of them while Kashim, Klint, and the Deacon, who all posessed magic weapons, ganged up on the wereboar and took it down. I seem to recall Klint's bejeweled magic blade did the most damage again. I think we should start calling his sword "Pigsticker", but then maybe that doesn't have quite the panache he'd want.

Anyway, we coaxed Gentleman Jack down from the tree and healed him up, and spent the rest of the night in as much peace as you can in a spooky, doom haunted wood.

The next day we packed up and traveled on, and were still in the vast, scary forest when it came time to bed down. Around about the second watch, it was Kashim (played by myself since his player was absent), Gentleman Jack, and probably Hearth the Elf sitting up playing harmonicas and philosophising. Kashim had wandered to the periphery of the camp to check on something (so Paul informed us), when he got jumped by another raging giant boar. He turned on the creature with his Vadium sword and put it down with three brutal slashes.

To his horror, when the thing's last breath escaped in bloody bubbles from its snout, it shrank and transformed into the dead body of Gentleman Jack Getz!

Hamina hamina hamina!

Now, as the Deacon I kick myself a little 'cos it never occurred to me that Getz would contract lycanthropy, although that's what is very likely to happen if you take over 50% damage from a lycanthrope. If it had, we probably would have watched him a little closer after he got treed by that wereboar. As a proxy player for Kashim, I have no regrets, save of course killing a compatriot. He's a headstrong man of action attacked by a fierce beast, and I kinda think that somebody from the southern desert lands wouldn't exactly dig on swine...

So with a heavy heart, we buried Gentleman Jack after Klint looted his finery. (It's a thief thing...) and went on our way.

Soon, we'd made it out of the haunted wilderness into more familiar territory. We passed the crumbling castle where we'd encountered Tevlar the sorceror, and shook our fists as we rode by. We'll get back to you, buddy boy...

We eventually got to the fork in the road that took us either to the town of Wildwood, or toward the Dead Hills and our destination, Skull Mountain. So we took the exit to Skull mountain.

Sure enough, as we got closer to it, it did look like a mountain with a skull on top. It seemed it was originally just natural formations, but had been helped along to make it more skull like by whoever or whatever occupied it.

We camped out at the base of the mountain, and during the night, we saw lights flickering in the mouth and eye sockets, and heard the beating of drums deep inside the mountain. Spookular!

Unsettled, we kept a watch on it but spent the night otherwise undisturbed.

The next morning, we set out on foot up the mountainside, leaving Tamar Tinhelm with the horses. He was a bit put out, having hired on to adventure, not just watch the horses, but we assured him he'd get his turn on the next outing.

We approached the face of the skull and stood on the platform in front of a row of stalactites that formed the thing's "teeth" in front of a cave mouth. Of course, just standing around in front of a big, frightening edifice like that is sure to invite trouble, which it definitely did, as arrows started to rain down on us from the eye socket windows.

The party scampered inside and made our way down a hallway leading inward from the mouth. About 3/4'ths of the way along, our lead guys, who were Jantz and Kashim, suddenly found themselves doused in oil from a murder hole in the ceiling. We just barely managed to back out of the way as a torch dropped down, setting the pool of oil at their feet alight but missing the party.

We backpedaled to the cave mouth, and for some insane reason members of the party tried to strike up a parley with the guys up in the eye sockets. I don't totally recall what was said, all I remember is our doughty group trying to bargain from probably the weakest position I've ever heard of. We were invading their hideout. What the hell were we hoping to convince them of? That we were selling Amway or something?

Anyway, we finally got back into game on mode and went back down the hall after the flames had died down, coming to an octagonal chamber with this black stone statue of some nondescript, sinister figure in a cloak with horns and a monster face.

There was a staircase to the north, which we followed up and around to find a sort of watch room where two sketchy looking guys were hanging out with bows in their hands and empty oil barrels. Having put a face to our pain we put some pain to their faces and took them down. Searching them didn't turn up much, just their weapons and some leather armor. Probably bandits or some such.

So we doubled back to the room with the statue and checked it out for hidden compartments and secret stuff. Didn't find any. We took the other exit from the room, and found ourselves in a large, vaulted chamber with a couple of kettle drums and a set of stone double doors at the far end. This was where we broke off this session.

Flash forward two weeks later. We start off standing in the room with the kettle drums. Jantz, our ranger, decides to slice open the drums, but there's nothing inside, so we check out the doors. Klint searches them over, then successfully picks the locks. Beyond, we find a hallway, so we follow it around until it comes to a set of stairs leading down.

We take the stairs down, and come to a juncture of underground hallways. Jantz uses his tracking skills, and finds several sets of footprints leading down the one to the north, so we follow that one. He also spots a couple sets of tracks leading to a section of the wall and stopping.
Hmm. Looks like an ambuscade...

So we send Klint forward, creeping silently along with his theifly abilities and using his see in the dark hat to good effect. He spots a crevice in the wall and approaches, and dodges back just in time as someone lunges out with a sword and tries to strike him. He backpedals, and decides to fight liars with fire, tossing a lit flask of oil into the breach. We're rewarded with the sounds of shrieks coming form the occupants of the alcove, as we charge in to attack. The Deacon finishes one off with his Mojo Stick (Breeshk! BOOM!) and the other guy is too on fire to put up much of a fight. (You know what they say: Build a man a fire, you keep him warm for a night. Set a man on fire, you keep him warm for the rest of his life...)

Since our two fricaseed friends are too toasty to search right now, we keep heading forward. The tunnel hits a T junction, so we head south, and round a corner where Jantz and Kashim suddenly fall into a concealed pit trap. Once again, d'oh! I'm a little hazy, but I think Jantz took a critical and exploded his kneecap on landing, which meant the Deacon had to heal him up when they got him back up out of the hole.

There's a little bit of hall beyond the pit, so we figure maybe there's something good hidden behind this trapped area. So we start sending party members over by having them climb down into the pit and up the other side with Klint's expert climbing leading the way. We send Hearth over with is elvish ability to find secret doors, and maybe one of the henchies.

The rest of us stay on the other side of the pit, and search along a wall that by a trick of the map looks like it might lead to some kind of concealed room. Neither group finds much of anything by way of secret doors though.

Next thing we know, suddenly we're taking bow fire from a bunch of guys down the hallway. Crap. You'd think these guys don't want us down here or something...

Kashim, Jantz, and Frog charge them, and I think manage to cut at least one of them down, sending the others fleeing. The Deacon tries to fire off a Hold Person, but due to Paul experimenting with turn order and spell initiative it doesn't go off in time to affect anyone, and I lose the spell. (I won't hash it out here. We're still in negotiations about it. He's posted about it here.)

We drag the corpses over to where their fellows are smoldering, and find they've cooled down enough to search, not that we turn up much more than fresh charcoal. So we decide to move on, heading up the other way from the hall with the pit. We round the next corner to the east, and find... Another pit!

Sigh...

I think once again I had to repair a broken leg on Jantz, and I think Frog or Evund dislocated something too. On the other side of the pit, there's a short dead end hallway heading north, and a doorway just past the pit. We cross over and check it out, and discover that the door is in fact a fake, with a solid stone wall behind it. We cross back over to the other side to decide what our next move will be.

While we're considering our options, we come under more bow fire from the complex's inhabitants. We return fire and send the survivor running, but now Evund (Played by the late Gentleman Jack's player until his new character gels up), Frog, and Jantz have their blood up and go chasing after them. They run through the dark hallways following the retreating bandit's torch, and eventually fall afoul of a crushing block trap that wounds them all severely. Mercifully, they're alive, but they're deep in enemy territory having not bothered to map their progress. Meanwhile the rest of the group is staying put by the pit so as not to get TOO separated.

Finally, our half crushed wayward party members find their way back to us. By now we're all pretty badly munched, and we're out of spells, or at least out of spells that are of immediate use. So we make the brilliant tactical decision to hole up on the other side of the pit in the little space made by the dead end hallway. We detach the fake door from it's hinges and set it up as a barricade.

Now, at this point I'll take a moment to comment on what my esteemed DM Paul has deemed the Goldilocks Syndrome in a post he made pertaining to what happened. In short, it is MONUMENTALLY STUPID to camp out in an occupied space, essentially in enemy territory. He likens it very much to someone deciding to take a nap in the bedroom in the midst of a home invasion, leaving the house's occupants to mount whatever defenses they choose.

Looking at it rationally, I'll have to agree about 90% with this sentiment. We *really* need to stop doing this, as it has bitten us on the posteriors almost every time we've done it. On the other hand, though, there are times where you've just clawed your way through a perilous dungeon, and finding yourself bereft of resources, the choice between facing the way out with nothing in your tank vs. holing up to try to replenish isn't quite so easy to make. I think it's an easier call in a "wilder" place like a ruin or cave complex, which is almost the same as camping in the wilderness, vs. this instance, where we were very much in somebody's home. No, not home, a better word would probably be fortified base.

So yeah, the fruits of our bad call came calling around first watch, when a couple guys took up a position at the far end of the hall and started pelting us with flasks of flaming oil and arrows. The barricade was set alight, so we kicked it down into the pit, and then the space in front of the fake doorway was filled with burning oil, leaving us crouched against the wall in the little 10X10 space to the north.

Jantz stepped out and tried to return fire, and got an arrow in the neck, dying instantly. I think Hearth tried to cast Sleep but got his spell interrupted. Kashim, Evund, and the Deacon all tried to jump the pit and failed, falling to the bottom and taking damage, and then taking even more as a flask of oil landed down there with us. Things were looking pretty bleak. Could this be the end for little Rico?

Klint made the leap across and charged them, maybe with Frog backing him up. Either way, it was a close call, but he killed our attackers before they could toss another flask and sent the rest packing. We hauled the guys in the pit up and out, grabbed Jantz's body, and beat feet for the exit.

Out out out, run run run, go go go!

We didn't stop until we'd gone all the way out the skull mouth and down the mountain, down to the campsite where Tamar Tinhelm and our horses should have been waiting, but werent.

Aaaarrrrgh...

So we camp out, congeal and heal. In the middle of the night we hear more drums from the skull, and see more lights. Hey, keep it down up there, ya jerks!

The next morning, we see a bunch of riders approaching. Playing it cool, we approach and parley. Their leader is a fella with a FABulous hat who goes by the name of Bors Tolvek. We decide not to let on we just raided skull mountain, in case these guys were from there, instead just telling them we're refugees from the hobgoblin raids in Restenford.

As we fall to talking, we get the skinny on the Skull Mountain and it's occupants. Seems the riders are the last remnant of a thieves guild known in Bridgefair as the Haberdashers. A while back, they had a guy by the name of Cooper try a takeover, which failed, so they gave him the standard severance package, which took the form of them carrying him up to the smoking crater at the top of Skull Mountain and tossing him in. Somehow, he survived, and returned claiming he'd become the servant of some dark god living there. He started a cult, which took over most of the Haberdashers and brought them out to set up shop in Skull Mountain. From there, they started raiding and kidnapping, taking hapless souls into the grisly mountain to unknown fates. They beat their drums whenever captives had been taken. Bors and his men had made a habit of checking up on the cult's activities, but weren't strong enough to fight them head on.

We decided to come clean with these guys after determining they were the enemies of our enemies, and told him we'd made a raid on the mountain and killed a few of them. He wasn't interested in joining forces with us for another go, but he was kind enough to lead us to a secluded cave where we could rest up and heal without being bothered by raiders from the cult, which called themselves the Obsidian Order.

We also asked if any of his guys had seen an elf with a big helmet and a bunch of horses. One of Bors' men said he had seen an elf matching that description leading a bunch of horses toward Bridgefair.

Son of a bitch must pay...

So we rested up for a couple of days, getting ourselves back up to fighting trim. We buried poor Jantz in the back of the cave, too worn out to think of anything novel to do with the corpse. We also buried the nasty protoplasmic slime which was all that remained of our very late mage Koode's face. (Remember that? I'd been carrying that nasty thing around for weeks. Sometimes it's tough being the group's general purpose medic/chaplain/undertaker... Egughhghhh...)

Once that was done, we drew up our plan. We decided if this Cooper guy could survive getting tossed into the caldera with no rope but the little bit binding his ankles and wrists, we could do even better with the whole 100 feet we had at our disposal.

We approach the mountain again, taking care to skirt around to the opposite side of the mountain from the skull face part. We climb up to the plateau, and find the large, smoking hole in the ground where the Haberdasher's used to deal with their discipline problems. (I know it wasn't really the Deacon's place, or his alignment, to point this out to him, but really a dagger across the jugular is a lot more efficient way to handle this sort of thing, unless they were trying to rack up frequent rider miles or something...)

We sent Hearth down on the rope into the choking smoke, and sure enough with his uncanny elvish vision spotted a small ledge with a crack in the wall leading into the depths of the mountain. So we proceeded to lower the group down one by one, using a combination of Klint's Ring of Feather Fall with the rope for insurance, and to send it up for the next guy. Each party member then crept into the narrow crevice, groping forward in the pitch dark, until Klint finally brought up the rear, climbing down using his natural theifly skill and bringing the rope with him. We'd gone in on a one way trip, baby.

The party inched along, only lighting a light when the lead guy came across a hole in the floor that we needed to step over. We eventually came to a widening of the tunnel, and that was where we left off.

So yeah, a lot of thrills and chills. Two dead party members for two sessions, from debateably avoidable circumstances. So we'll be starting next time with a couple new PC's. The plot is indeed thickening. Our enemies list is growing too, now including Tevlar, the entire Obsidian Order, and frikkin' Tamar Tinhat the elven horse thief. On the plus side, I think most of the guys who're wanted in Bridgefair are now dead, so we can go into the city without getting tossed in the slammer. (I think it's just Kashim now who'd be on a wanted poster. Maybe if we get him a hat or a fake beard or something he'll blend in better.) We still need to work on our tactics a bit. That's for sure. Paul's gonna need to update his graveyard sometime.

Anyway, this one goes out to the party members, living or dead. Thanks to Paul for running an awesome game, and thanks to the rest of the 10d Gamers. Shine on you crazy diamonds...

Zombie Jamboree

2010-11-01T17:37:00.000-07:00

Everybody was back to back, belly to belly, but I don't give a damn 'cos I'm stone dead already.

So, as a last shambling remnant of a nearly solid month of gamey weekend goings on in October I'm gonna report on my friends Scott K. and Karin K.'s "Eat Your Brains" zombiepocalypse game this past Saturday.

The whole thing started on a chilly night on the outskirts of an isolated town.

Seems almost peaceful, doesn't it? Except for that bunch of zombies there...

The team who went out to investigate included a wannabe ghostbuster with a proton pack, a two fisted private investigator (played by yours truly), the town drunk, the local fire chief, and a trio of lovely ladies composed of somebody's girlfriend, a candy striper, and the intrepid Duffy the zombie re-slayer.

Stay together, and keep heads and arms inside the ride at all times...

It was fairly smooth going for the group early on, as we pelted down the road to try to reach the far end of the map, where we could see some kind of eerie glow through the trees. Then the zombies started building up, popping up at five spawn points: the creepy old tree by the pumpkin patch, the graveyard, the ancient monolith in the farmer's field, the weird old statue in the middle of the woods, and worst of all, the dreaded pet cemetery.

This was the all time heaviest populated of the zombie spawn points. We figure they must have buried the touring company of "Cats" there or something...

After initial progress the foremost of the group charged a cluster of zombies by the woods. The fire chief went in swinging with his axe while the town drunk used his drunken kung fu. The wannabe ghostbuster was doing the most damage to the zombies with his proton pack, which had an area effect. The girlfriend was quite effective with her scream, that could force the creatures back, and with a torrent of thrown bottles and plates that she produced from... somewhere. The town drunk, inebriated though he was, scored a blow for the breathing by destroying the creepy statue at the center of the woods with a well placed molotov cocktail.

C'mon, bring it you staggering bastards! I was talking to the zombies, town drunk...

As they lagged behind, the rear guard had an unpleasant surprise in the form of the zombie princess, who came levitating up the road spawning zombies every nine minutes and generally being an ectoplasmic push broom, forcing us forward. We tried to nail her with one of the explosive pumpkins that were scattered about the area but the damn things skins were too tough to burst with gunfire. (@#$%*>:( Warhammer style hit/wound rules...)

"You found me beautiful once." Baby, you got real ugly...

Things started to go skull gnawingly south by the fence by the forest, as the number of zombies started to overload the heroes, and one by one they fell to the zombie bites, arising as undead horrors themselves and shambling after the living.

Back to back, belly to belly, yes my friends...

The wannabe ghostbuster held out the longest, drawing the big crowd and keeping them from mobbing the girlfriend and the candy striper, who made an end run around the woods to try to get to the objective.

Not even that restraining order will keep the zombie town drunk at bay now...

Meanwhile, back by the old church Duffy was making a heroic last stand, re-deading zombies left and right with her awesome corpse fu, until she fell to the undead remains of the two-fisted detective, who'd fallen to one of the Zombie Princess' minions after failing to ignite any pumpkin bombs...

Punch! Kick! It's all in the mind. Mmm Braiinnsssss....

After some desperate screaming and the heavy use of a satchel full of drug cocktails, the two intrepid final girls made it around the woods, to find what was causing that eerie glow. Uh oh! Doomsday cultists!

I hate those guys!

The candy striper, drugged to the gills and still riding high from taking out the Zombie Princess and setting her back to the start of the road, tried to take a shot at the cultists, but she and the girlfriend were soon bourne down by the mob of shambling undead. The cultists summoned a nameless horror from beyond space and time, culminating a fine ritual season with a strong showing at the regionals...

They're gonna have to do better, though, if they wanna compete at the state level with the team from Dunwich...

So all told a fine evenings fun. We were scored by how many deadheads we popped while alive, and big bonus points for how many humans we munched when we crossed over.

The candy striper's player took the most points with zombie kills and taking down the Zombie Princess, while the wannabe ghostbuster did a lot of damage as well. I took first blood with the detective, and got good points for finally taking down Duffy when I went all shambolic.

So the candy striper won the prize, a bottle of fine sippin' whisky for those cozy nights where you're holed up in your Omega Man redoubt taking potshots at the moaning hordes of undead gathered around the barricades.

Fun stuff. Thanks to Scott K. and Karin K. for setting up this swell event and having us in to lurch around your lovely home. Lookin' forward to what you cook up for next year.

Back to back. Belly to belly Ha ha ha haaaa!

Booga booga!

2010-10-31T11:30:00.001-07:00

P.S. A couple YouTubular selections to round out the holiday:

He vill rue da dai he vus boern a Fronckensteen...

A shout out to Cleveland, Oh!, where they're serious about Halloween. Stay Sick!

Superstition! From back when Sesame Street was funkay!

Son of Creepy Crawl 2010 - Analysis

2010-10-24T17:51:00.000-07:00

Ha ha ha ha hah hah haaaaah!

Another hum dinger of a session. This time I had four players, and no henchmen, initially.

Which is funny, because the theme for the evening was definitely henchmen abuse!

Renegotiate your contract? I'll renegotiate your face with my boot, worm!

An excellent deploy on the fireball ended what looked to be a pretty tough fight, and netted them four terrified minions, plus the raw materials to make more. *shudder* So lots of fun with the TMD's (Transylvanian Mine Detectors) and redshirt action. (I just realized the minis actually are kind of red, color wise. Win!)

It was also fun to whittle down the huge entourage of undead through the sinister influence of the vermilion earth. Gotta be careful when yer carting around that many undead, they can turn on ya...

The biggest laffs of the evening were from the grimling skeleton randomly floating around in the chamber of electroskulls, just going about it's business holding up the torch as if nothing was amiss. Heh.

A couple of the fights dragged a little, but that was as much tactics as it was execution. All told, they were mostly satisfying, and again I'm amazed at how much can be crammed in to what was essentially four & change hours of play.

The biggest problem I had was I somehow allowed orientation on the dungeon map vs. orientation for the players to get all kerfloopty, which made it hard to keep track of where the players were going, and I ended up fudging toward the end. I don't quite know how it happened, but I ended up having to read my keyed map upside down.

So gavel down, from here on out, North is always away from me, south is toward me, east is right and west is left, as if I'm looking at a sheet of paper right side up. I shoulda cracked down sooner on that 'cos it really threw things off. Again, I dunno how we got it twisted around...

That aside, again I was stoked that the stuff we got to was the stuff I wanted to highlight. The fight with Morgus was a treat 'cos he played so prominently (and somewhat disjointedly) in last year's Halloween Crawl. My wednesday DM Paul ended up as Morgus' arch enemy last year, and I was gratified he was here at this session, albiet as another character.

The sandboxy nature of Ghoulardia pass got to shine, as each session caused elaborations on following sessions. One prime example of this was the Crypt of Gore De Vol, that became the lair of the Iron Skull in the next session, finally becoming the electrified room of floating bones, all based on what had transpired before. The werewolf lair becoming the spider wolf's lair is another example, or the red earth in Vladek Lobovich's tomb.

That said, though, I think for next year I'll cook up something new and give Ghoulardia Pass its well earned rest in a shallow grave. Mini sandboxes are a hoot, tho. I recommend them highly.

And so, another Creepy Crawl season comes to a terrifying end. Thanks to the players who came out to both sessions with their own brand of awesome! I hope you all had a good time.

I'll let the Aquabats play us out...

STAY CREEPY, FOLKS!