The Thousand Year Sandglass Begins!

And so a new journey on the Saturday Night Sandbox begins, the Thousand Year Sandglass! Tune in to hear timeless takes from the shifting sands of Sanduq Ramul, in my new sandbox Labyrinth Lord campaign.

A Tale of Two Rascals, Two Largomani, a Warrior and a Jeweled Bowl

Salaam and well met, O weary travellers of the wasteland. Hearken ye to this tale.

In the Bazaar of Profuse Delights in the heart of the great coastal city of Kalabad, did two rogues of low character find themselves playing at dice in the late afternoon shade of a rug merchant's stall, when lo did they hear a great ululation and groaning at the mouth of a nearby alleyway. One rascal, Assadola the Shark by name and inclination, a low bred cutpurse of little wit but with some skill at picking pockets and slitting throats, turned to his dissolute companion Mehmet, a ragged, scarred, hashish addled kedai, and wondered at the noise. Lacking much better to do than cheat what meager coins they had off of one another, the two ne'er do wells decided to investigate.

A short walk later, they found a grief stricken largoman, kneeling in the dirt and scooping up handfuls of sand to pour on his reptilian head, keening in despair as the denizens of the bazaar passed unheeding about him. When plied by the two rapscallions as to what was the matter, he replied that he had just come to the city from the deep deserts where his kith and kin made their home, and had been waylaid by thieves in the alley. His prized, heirloom dewwok (the polished bronze bowl that all largomani used to gather the water of the morning dew and sustain themselves in the wastes) had been stolen. Upon hearing of its gemstones and intricate inlaid gold and silver filigree, Assadola and Mehmet's eyes lit up with something other than charity, and with a curt nod to one another, they helped the trusting sojourner from the desert to his clawed feet and bade him be of good cheer, for they would help him find his treasured dewwok. And thus a small party of adventurers was formed.

Two losers and a lizard.

Seeking first to trail the robbers, the trio made their way down the alley, searching for signs of the thieves passage. There, they found a sack, reeking pungently of fish, and marked with the sign of Vahid the Fishmonger. This, the largoman (Scrocmalaku by name.) revealed, was the bag that the robbers had forced over his head to overcome him.

Following this lead, the trio wended their way to the waterfront, and found the foul smelling establishment, where a burly man was busy chopping the heads off of eels. He looked up warily when approached by Mehmet, for kedai are known to be a nuisance at any establishment that sells fish. When asked if he was Vahid, he said no, his name was Djalel, and that he worked for the aged widow of Vahid. Eyeing the two rascals up, the burly fishmonger's assistant jerked his scruffy head toward the ill favored building next door, saying they had an untrustworthy look about them, and that they'd be more suited to the company of the thieves den next door, and threatened them that if they did not wish to buy eels that they should leave before he struck them with his cleaver.

Taking this brusque exchange as yet another vital clue, the trio hied themselves next door, to a run down house with a ramshackle enclosed balcony that was pouring forth volumes of white smoke from its latticed windows. Stepping up to the door, Assadola rapped sternly, and demanded entry when a brass shutter opened and a pair of eyes glared out. The trio was told to begone, so the charming thief attempted to bluff his way in, declaring they had a lucrative business deal for them. The guardian's eyes narrowed cagily, and he told them that he had changed his mind, and that they should come right in. With that, the brass shutter clicked shut, and the sound of a bolt being drawn could be heard from behind the door. Mehmet, muddled by his vices and eager to plunge ahead with this latest endeavor, opened the portal and strode inside.

Inside they found a dimly illuminated room with a tattered rug on the floor but nought else, save for a foul stench, fouler even then the fishmonger's, and several unpleasant brown stains on the walls. As the kedai's slitted eyes instantly adjusted to the dark, he spotted a door across from him closing behind a receding figure. On either side of the portal were more latticed windows, behind which he could see movement. Tail twitching in impatience, he crossed the room and threw open the opposite door. A pair of sinewy, shaggy arms reached out and cuffed him, sending him spinning back as a horrible, filthy ape with a leather collar attacked, hooting with bloodlust as cheers and cruel laughter sounded from behind the screens.

Get your paws off of me, you damned dirty ape!

Assadola and Scrocmalaku hurried forward to aid their belagured companion as the kedai gave the grunting beast battle with his khopesh sword, dodging and darting on unsteady feet as the ape swung with his filth begrimed paws. The human thief attempted to flank the beast and get a surprise jab with his broad headed spear, but was spotted by the creature's tiny, piglike eyes. As it turned to fend him off, he still managed to drive the spear's wide head into the ape's side, wounding it grievously, but not before the creature's long, sinewy arm reached out and grasped the hapless rogue by the neck, snapping it like a reed with its hideous strength. Assadola the Shark dropped to the ground, dead.

Enraged by its wound, the filthy ape began to flail its arms seeking to kill the kedai and largoman. Seizing an opportunity, Scrocmalaku came in low (as is often the way with his kind) and drove his short sword into the beast's heart, ending its miserable life. The creature slumped forward, pinning the hapless reptile under its unclean bulk, as Mehmet bewailed his companion's fate, and the impossibility of ever recovering the money that he had owed the mourning kedai.

The pair's grief was short lived, as the sound of angry voices and the rattling of locks filled the room. Mehmet kicked the dead ape off of Scrocmalaku and the largoman snatched up the fallen rogue's scimitar, dropping into a defensive pose as some ill favored cutthroats who dwelt in the house poured into the room, enraged that they had slain their pet and guardian. Deeming discretion the better part of valor, they seized Assadola's corpse by the ankle and fled. As he ran, the kedai snatched up the dead thief's pole arm, and used it to wedge shut the front door behind them, blocking their pursuers as they fled into the deepening twilight.

They killed our monkey! Those bastards!

With heavy hearts and nothing to show for it, the pair bore Assadola's body back to the house of his siblings, where his sister (and fence) Magda received it with much wailing, wondering to the gods how she would get back the money she was owed by her brother now. From the back room of their small apartment, a stern faced youth with flaring eyes stepped out and shoved her aside, introducing himself as Assadola's brother, Rashid of the Seven Fires. Something of a warrior, with a fiery temper, the young man swore vengeance on the slayer of his sibling, no matter how richly he'd deserved it. Arming himself with his mail, shield, and sword, he declared a blood feud, and prevailed upon Mehmet to lead him to the thieves' house where he might have his revenge. Hot blooded, and angry at his ill treatment by their pet ape, the kedai agreed.

Meanwhile, out on the street, a despairing Scrocmalaku knelt down and began keening and anointing his head with earth once more, bewailing both the loss of his new found friend Assadola and their failure to retrieve his heirloom dewwok. It was then that he was approached by a fellow Largoman, a kinsman who had accompanied him in from the wastes, by the name of Kashmalaku. Seeing his kinsman's plight, the kindly largoman offered to join him in retrieving his dewwok. Soon, Mehmet and Rashid came storming out of the front of the backstreet hovel, and so the party of avengers numbered four, as they wended their way back to the pungent house of the robbers.

We thirst, for vengeance! And khoumiss...

Before returning to do battle, Mehmet wished to see if he could get the wounds he'd received from the thieves' ape tended with some magical healing, and so they took a side trip to the extensive temple grounds of the kedai of Kalabad, and sought out one of the albino priestess of his feline people. The alabaster furred female's lip curled at the sight of this gaudy jeweled, mange ridden reprobate, and she flatly told him he would need to pay gold to receive the blessing of wholeness from her divine patron, the Ohai. When he clumsily attempted to bargain the price down from 50 denarii to 5, she clapped her slender hands, and a pair of large, growling kedai escorted him summarily to the door.

Scat!

It was fully dark by the time the group made their way to the thieves den, now dimly lit from within by lamps. Deciding to take a less direct approach, they walked a circle about the building, discovering the entries and exits. All of the windows were latticework, breakable, but unlikely to permit rapid escape, so they concentrated on blocking the doors, driving iron spikes into all but the back entry so that they would not be opened easily. The foursome then crouched by portal, steeling themselves for the fight.

With a fierce cry, Rashid kicked down the back door and leaped inside. He was met in a large, shabby room by a hulking brute of a thief, their leader, and a trio of his men, who drew their scimitars and the battle was joined.

Flashing blades!

The ruffians fought fiercely, but were poorly armored, and while they struck some telling blows with their curved blades, and were soon reinforced by three of their fellows from the next room, it wasn't long before all but one of the robbers all lay dead on the floor, felled by the flashing blades of the avenging party. The one they spared they plied with questions, with Rashid angrily demanding which of them had slain his brother. In a stammering voice, the prisoner told him that Oogoo the Ape had slain Assadola, and was dead (sent to the taxidermist to be stuffed, in fact). "You lie!" the hot headed warrior replied, running the last ruffian through. Lifting his bloody sword over his head, the angry fighter declared he would hunt down this thief named Oogoo and take his revenge, as his two largomani companions exchanged glances and shrugged at this angry mammal's fervor. Meanwhile, Mehmet was rifling through the dead robber captain's belongings, finding a handful of half-dinars in a belt pouch, and discovering an odd tattoo on the dead ruffian's back, two circles connected with a v, rather like the mark on the hood of a cobra. Rashid claimed the leader's heavy bladed scimitar for his own, and soon the group fell about searching the room for Scroc's dewwok.

As they overturned the pile of pillows in one corner, they found that one clinked and jingled. Slitting it open, a pile of gold and some gems and jewelry poured out onto the floor. This they scooped up and claimed for their own. Deciding to search the rest of the building, they went into the room whence the thieves reinforcements had come, and found Scroc's family heirloom sitting on a low table among dice and game chits holding a pile of mangoes and persimmons. Croaking with joy, the largoman reclaimed his precious dewwok, thanking his comrades for their aid.

As an overjoyed Scrocmalaku turned it over in his thorny hands, checking it for damage, Rashid noticed a map of some kind etched on the inner surface of the bowl like device. When queried, the largoman answered the map had been there for long ages, as the dewwok was handed down from sire to offspring, and detailed a ruin in a far off quarter of the desert that his people scarcely ventured to. He said the tales spoke of a bowl like depression in the earth lined with ledges of stone, with ruined statues of winged lions arranged about it.

The group then decided to investigate the rest of the house, seeking to make sure no thieves were lurking to avenge their brethren. They found only a hunchbacked crone making stew in the kitchen on the first floor. The shrill voiced old harridan assumed they were new recruits for the band of thieves, and gave them each a bowl of dubious fish ragout over undercooked rice, which Mehmet with his hashish urged cravings and Rashid from his poverty both accepted and ate without much question.

In the central courtyard of the house, they found a reeking, muddy pool. Tossing aside his empty soup bowl, the warrior took up a long pole and stepped forward to prod the stagnant water and see if perhaps something might be hidden there. Indeed it was, as a small, pock skinned crocodile snapped at him, hissing with rage. He drew his sword and smote the creature, sending it vanishing into the murky water in a frantic splash followed by silence.

Back! Back you dimetrodon pretending to be a crocodile! Back!

Finally, the group climbed the rickety stairs to the second floor, and forced the door on the room overlooking the street, where they found three kidnapped damsels who were being held to be sold into slavery by the evil robbers. They were glad to be rescued, especially from the clouds of cloying incense needed to shield them from the stench of the place, and went on their way saying many thanks and wishing blessings upon them from the gods.

Our heroes!

A quick perusal of the upstairs yielded little else of interest to the adventurers, and there were no other occupants of the building, save for some dull eyed opium addicts lounging in the room next door to the captive damsels, who barely stirred when the quartet entered their stuffy chamber. In one hall, a nightingale floor, which Rashid assumed was to warn if the maids from the upper room attempted escape, and another hall full of large clay jars of oil, one of which Mehmet claimed as spoils to sell. Though unsteady on his feet from the khoumiss and hashish, he managed to bear the ten gallon jar down the rickety steps and out of the building without disaster striking.

Gathering up their captured treasure, the four avengers quit the thieves den. The others watched and chuckled among themselves as Mehmet tried to sell his oil at the fishmongers, and was once again thrown out of the reeking establishment. His companions consoled him in his bristling, tail lashing irritation by dividing up the coins and jewels they had won, and the four and went their separate ways in the heady, warm Kalabad night, to spend their newly gained wealth on what they chose.

What happened to them next is a tale for another night...

LL at Paul's: Hungry Like the Worgs

Howdy, Lords, Ladies, and Lurkers Above. It's time once again for a recap of the Labyrinth Lord game I'm playing in, helmed by my amigo Paul ( formerly known as DH, who's just cracked open a brand new blog, and changed his online nom de jeu to a more accurate moniker. I try to refer to folks by whatever nickname they pick, as a courtesy. Anyway...)

So when last we left our doughty band, they were still creeping about the tunnels beneath the old guard house, a bit gnawed on but otherwise undaunted. We explored the final open tunnel off of what seemed like an old thieves' den, and found it made its way to another runged ladder in a tunnel that was dripping with moisture on the walls and ceiling. We sent Liam, the elf ranger, up the ladder to look around with his elven "see in the dark" vision (none of that infared camera eye booshwah). He found a trapdoor up there, and forced it open with a little difficulty, raining dirt down upon the rest of us. It turned out to open in a patch of land hidden behind a bush by the seacoast, inside the bounding wall that runs along the town of Restenford's south? side. We found ourselves wondering what purpose that might serve to whatever secretive organization had built the tunnels, and guessed maybe it was a secret way in for someone arriving via small boats under cover of darkness. Smugglers maybe? There was definitely a thieves den vibe about the place.

After we climbed back down we backtracked through the tunnels and saw to opening the room behind the hearth area that a trap had rendered full of some sort of gas, and leaving it propped open so that hopefully the sinister green vapors would dissipate and we could explore the area beyond. We used our trusty 10' pole to open the hidden door's catch, and then left the pole propping open the door as we fled. From there, we left the catacombs, some small treasure and a bag of giant rat heads the richer.

From there we started going about town consulting with personalities we had met and trying to plumb the depths of the clues we'd gathered. We first went to the Captain of the Guard's tower, where we parted company with Webber, our observer with the noterized bag. We sent him up to talk to his superior, and found that while there wasn't a bounty on giant rats, he was generous enough to pay us 5 crowns for our trouble, and also affirmed that we'd no longer need a representative of the guard following us to confirm our bounty kills, which was a good deal.

We then proceeded to the tower of Pelltar, to talk with him about this curious map we'd found on the back of a dartboard in the thieves' den, referring to a safe containing magic items hidden behind a picture in a large bedroom, making note of when a magician (presumably the occupant of said room) was leaving, and also noting to beware of bugbears. Since Pelltar was the only wizard we knew of in town, the more upstanding members of the party (namely the cleric and the paladin) wanted to give him fair warning, while Kooda the mage wanted to get in good graces with the wizard in hopes of obtaining some magical instruction. The thief and the ranger seemed to be trying to come up with an angle to work from having the map, but lacking a lot of information, and facing the prospect of tangling with a man capable of turning you into a frog and then setting you on fire, went along with telling Pelltar everything we knew. We also brought along a strange amulet we found in the smashed remains of the self vaporizing chest, and a potion we found in a small wooden box.

The wizard received us graciously in the company of his chief apprentice, and we spoke for a while. He didn't recognise the room, and pointed out from the age of the map that any warning we brought was a bit late in coming, but appreciated the spirit it was given in nonetheless. He didn't recognise the amulet, or the use of hexagons as a symbol. It was made known that his apprentice would identify magic items for 10 crowns apiece, which we found a bit steep and declined. After pressing him for more information on the ogre he wanted slain, we bid Pelltar farewell.

Afterwards, we tested the potion by tasting it (namely, the Deacon tested it. Heck, he'd lived a good life and was ready to meet the Allmaker anytime.) and found it was a potion of healing, which we gave to Liam to keep to spread the healing abilities out among the party members. (The primary healers being Deacon Silver and Yøgen Früdje.) We tried on the ring, but didn't really feel any unusual effects, but we're keeping it for now in case there's a chance it might be magical.

From there, we decided to go speak to Amos' parents (Augrim and Fellina? I remember the first letters of their names but the rest just doesn't wanna stick. Any help out there, Paul?) and purchased a fine feast to thank them for making us dinner the other night. (A basket of chowdah and a bottle of wine. Fine eats.)

As we sat around the dinner table, we discussed the items and clues we'd found, hoping that perhaps Amos' elven mother's long memory would be of help. She demurred that she hadn't been in the area for long. "Only fifty years or so." She didn't know anything about the amulet or the hexagon, but did make note of the Baron (actually, probably the Baron's father) obliterating the local thieves' guild when he took power shortly after she moved to the area.

Soon the conversation turned to recent events, and the party decided our next task would be to deal with the wolf problem that the family was having, namely a pack of roving, maurauding beasts that were forcing young Amos to take the long road on his forays to pass information to their elvish kin to the west? rather than pass through the stretch of forest known as the Kellman wood.

Our other options were to hunt the gnolls and their ogre on Pebble Hill, or seek out a haunted outpost on Tritop Hill. We figured the wolves would be a good place to start, firstly because we wanted to cement our friendship with Amos' family (particularly the use of their magical healing pool) and also because it would be good experience. So a wolf hunt it was.

We parted ways with the family and slept for the night, and then busied ourselves planning (actually, over-planning as it turned out) our expedition. We took the small treasure we found in the rats nests under the guard post, and pawned the red gem for a tidy sum of 50 crowns, had the gold ring appraised at 10 crowns (although we decide to hold on to it), and changed much of our cash into platinum sovereigns for portability. All told, we ended up with about 62 some crowns. We took out 12 crowns as our "wolf hunting fund" and split the remaining 50 among the primary party members.

From there, we split up, sending Liam and Klint to buy some more rope and price out some shovels to dig some traps with, while Yøgen and the Deacon headed down to the Red Keg to see if we could hire some more bodies for the expedition. After finding the price of shovels a bit steep, we advertised through Falco the bartender that we were looking for some louts to dig for us at a half crown apiece, bring your own shovel.

By the afternoon, a quartet of farmers had answered our call, but when they found out they would be digging in the Kellman wood, quailed at the prospect and needed a couple of shillings apiece to convince them to do the job. We told them to meet us at the Keg in the morning and we'd march out there, and dig a few pitfalls for the wolves, with us protecting them.

Since there was still a few hours of daylight and the woods were not far away, we decided to make use of Liam's tracking skills and scout out good places to dig our pit traps. He soon found some tracks, of normal wolves and some unusually large footprints that indicated worgs, at least. (Klint spent a little gold on a sprig of wolfsbane, although the prospect of tangling with werewolves is kind of scary at 1st. level. I got some silver on my mandolin, but I don't reckon pulling an "El Kabong" on a werewolf is anything more than a desperation tactic.)

We followed the trail through the woods, and it soon became apparent that indeed we'd overplanned a bit, as we entered a small clearing around a forest pool and found five wolves and a worg drinking at the pool. With water dripping off their fangs, the beasts growled at us with hackles raised, and charged.

Thankfully, we won initiative, and Liam and Kooda got some shots off first, the elf with his bow, and the mage with his potent Sleep spell, which sent three of the wolves off to dreamland. Klint clambered up a nearby tree, while the slavering beasts laid into Melchoir and Yøgen. The horrible worg, an evil natured giant of a beast, clamped its fierce jaws on the Paladin's leg, eventually biting through the greave and severely injuring his calf and shin, forcing him to use his healing touch to keep himself at least in the fight, although his heavy armor and shield helped keep him from any worse injury. At his side, our three fingered henchman lost a few more bits of himself to the wolves as the creatures savagely tore his thigh, forcing him to fight from the ground after the Deacon healed him. Liam dropped his bow and drew his sword, hacking at the beasts, while Klint peppered them with bowfire from up the tree. Eventually, we wore the beasts down, as Kooda slipped around the side of the fight and finished off the magically sleeping remainder of the pack.

After some deliberation, we skinned the worg and hung the rest of the carcasses from nearby tree branches to collect their pelts later, and limped back to Amos' house. His father was quite glad to see the evil beast slain, but told us sadly that the Baron cared little for the goings on past the town's wall, and therefore probably wouldn't pay any kind of bounty for them. After a dip in the healing pool for each of us to mend our wounds, we took the pelt to the local tanner to be prepared, and settled in for the night at the Dying Minotaur, resolving to go back to the woods the next day to make sure we'd gotten all of the beasts, after letting the farmers know we wouldn't be needing their services and paying them each a shilling for wasting their time.

The next day we put our tracker Liam to work again, and wound our way past the pool with it's grisly hanging carcasses. As we wound through the woods, we came across the badly decomposed body of a dwarf. We found he had some coin on him, which we claimed as salvage, and took a few moments to give him a proper dwarven burial (Namely: lots of rocks, piled on the corpse, the larger the better. If we could have found a huge boulder or a menhir to tip over on him that would have been best*, but we made do, and continued on our way.)

From there we followed a trail that led to a den, where we saw two more worgs standing guard. We decided to use strategy, and climbed up some nearby trees where they couldn't get us, and we could pepper them with bowfire and daggers. We decided to save Kooda's sleep spell in case more wolves popped up. (Also, worgs were a bit tougher than the sleep spell could affect, so it would have been a waste to fire it off right then anyway.)

At the sound of a warning growl from one of the worgs, about three more wolves came out of the den, barking and growling up at us. Klint and Liam fired on the beasts, wounding a few, before Kooda's enthusiasm got the better of him and he threw a flask of flaming oil. While this indeed singed the worgs and a few wolves, it caused them to scatter into the forest and left us up trees over a spreading fire in the underbrush. We shimmied down and kicked out the fire with a little effort.

We decided to investigate the den, and while the rest of the party watched out for the rest of the pack's return, Liam and Deacon Silver crawled down the small earthen tunnel, expecting perhaps to find some cubs we could maybe take away and sell, or even train. (I was gonna name mine Spirit Wind! He and I could have totally rad adventures. If there were enough pups to go around I might have gotten three. Chain mail goes awesome with zubas. But I digress...) Liam crawled on ahead while the Deacon stopped half way, anticipating handing things up bucket brigade style. This, also, turned out to be overplanning, 'cos Liam found a snarling, bristling mother wolf in addition to a litter of cubs, and backed out of the den in a big hurry.

Deciding we needed to make an end to the pack, we arrayed ourselves to lure the wolves in and fight them. Klint, Liam, and Kooda climbed trees, while Mechior, Yøgen, and the Deacon took up a position atop the small earthen knoll where the den was (so that we wouldn't get rushed from behind by the mother). Liam used his wilderness skill to make a convincing return call mimicing the female wolf (we figured a mating call might be a bad idea for all involved). Soon, the beasts came out of the woods with hackles raised and the battle was again joined, although as the gigantic slavering worgs closed with our melee fighters we were all feeling a bit on the overwhelmed side.

The battle was indeed fierce and brutal. We were rolling a lot of low rolls and misses, but Klint managed to get a couple of natural 20's (I'll take this opportunity to be abrasive & annoying and once again complain that we as players chickened out about not using crits. Yeah yeah, I know we would be suffering from the profusion of 1's we roll, but damn, it sucks to get a natural 20 and have nothing to show from it but normal damage. No, I will never shut up about this.) Yøgen's armor class of 1 really paid off, as the wolves and worgs fruitlessly gnawed on his metal casing and failed to get to the tender meat inside, thankfully. Melchior's dismal luck with wolves continued and the beasts crippled the poor dope, and were actually dragging him screaming back toward the den before the Deacon stopped them with a few well placed whacks from his quarterstaff. We were all hurting at the end, but we eventually slew the beasts, effectively ending their threat to the forest for good.

We wrapped the session with a bit of discussion about dealing with the mother wolf and her litter. Seeing as it was the worgs who were the ones leading the rest of the wolves to prey on humans, we decided to be merciful and leave them to in peace. (Plus, none of us were willing to shimmy down a narrow hole in the ground and get our faces bitten off, least of all Kooda, who was not enthusiastic at all about the idea when we suggested he go down and cast Sleep on them.)

All told, another good session. Lots of interaction and getting to know the scene around Restenford, some good leads for more adventuring to come. Thanks again for a good session, Paul, and the rest of the 10d gamers. Once again, I make no claims for the veracity or accuracy of this document, it being the result of my often muddled memory.

*It is well known, by those who believe everything they hear, that the greatest Dwarven kings often have entire rings of massive standing stones toppled upon their corpses when they die, as a true dwarven journey to the afterlife requires the body to be crushed under rocks in the manner of their ancestors. The sound and frequency of crunching bones and squishing noises coming from below as the bier is built are read by those whos' beards drag underfoot as auguries. At least, that's what I heard...

LL at DH's: The Quickening

And so it's time once again to speak of my weekly Labyrinth Lord game, when a couple of days have passed and the expired cheese that passes for my memory is already beginning to dissipate. That being said, I've finally gotten to the point where I remember the entire party's names, if not exact spellings, and I can tell you that the name of the town we have been bumming about in is known as Westenford.

So. When we left off, the party was just finishing up a lovely dinner with the parents of a young half elf named Amos. Since we had worked a deal with the local constabulary to roust the ghouls from the tunnel complex under the old burned out guard post, we decided to go out and hire some help. We decided to form a fund for hirlings, each chipping in a gold crown to get some backup.

We went first to the "Dying Minotaur", but since most of the clientele of that establishment was working stiffs, we didn't find any takers for our job posting. (Which initially was our stalwart paladin standing impressively on a chair and calling all in earshot to come and fight evil with him...) Asking discreetly at the bar, we were directed to go to a dive in the rougher part of town known as the "Red Keg", and so off we went. When the group got there, we found a crowd gathered around a game of darts with bets being laid. The strong contender was a dwarf named Gap (named after the huge gap in his front teeth) who seemed to play for the sheer love of the game. The challenger was handily beaten (losing Liam the Elf Ranger and Kooda Dood the Mage a couple of crowns in the process) and soon the crowd was dispersing, while the gap toothed dwarf called for a new challenger.

Desiring to make some friends, and perhaps initiate some business, Deacon Silver stepped up and accepted the dwarf's exhortation to a game. Taking three darts in hand, the contest began. The deacon had a really good first shot, and managed to beat Gap in a narrow game. (I'm not sure I remember, but I hope at this point I won back some of my comrades' money.)

The Deacon offered to buy Gap a drink, so we went to the bar, where it turned out that the dart playing dwarf was the younger brother of the bar's owner and actually worked there. When I asked Gap about who might be interested in joining us on a dangerous expedition, and he referred us to his brother (name forgotten, sorry DH), who was much cannier and businesslike. He in turn pointed out a hard bitten looking fellow wearing a wolf skin cloak and armed with a mace, a fighter who went by the name of Three Fingered Melkior. He was missing two fingers on his left hand, which he'd lost to a wolf in the forest after poverty had forced him to sleep there rather than in the town. He was so poor, that he'd had to pawn his sword and settle for using a mace as a weapon. After a bit of haggling, both with our potential hireling and among ourselves, we signed him on for the price of four crowns a month, plus a promise to buy his sword back from the pawnbroker for him. With that done we headed back to the Dying Minotaur to sleep and rest up for our expedition the next day.

The following morning, we got up, geared up, and went to gather Lieutenant Webber, the town guard who would accompany us down to witness our slaying of the undead so that we could collect bounties on them.

The group decended into the dismal hole and set out searching, checking in the various rooms we'd discovered to make sure nothing was lurking there. The only change since our last foray was the mysterious chest that had dissolved into a cloud of smoke had reverted to its solid state and crashed to the floor, shattering into splinters. Among the wreckage we found some old clothes and an ornate dagger, which Kooda claimed for himself.

We finally found our undead quarry, three ghouls and two skeletons, lurking at the end of the main corridor. Our plan was for the Deacon to turn them, and then only attack one at a time so that we could slay them piecemeal. Of course, the plan being a plan, this didn't survive contact with the enemy. My roll wasn't good enough to turn the ghouls, who charged us, although thankfully the skeletons were turned and stayed out of the fight. If they hadn't, I think we would have been overwhelmed.

The fighters, Melkior and Früdje, took the front, with Deacon Silver standing ready to either cure wounds or paralysis should that become necessary, since to step forward with his quarterstaff would have widened the fight from two on two to three on three. Liam the Elf took a shot with his longbow, but sadly only managed to hit the Paladin squarely in the back, forcing him to use his laying on of hands on friendly fire. Klint the thief attempted to sneak up for a backstab, but was noticed and got pulled into the fighting.

Eventually, the front line managed to take out one of the ghouls, so that the Deacon and could step up, but in response the ghouls managed to grieviously wound both Melkior, Früdje, and Klint, and leave the thief, the paladin, and Deacon Silver paralysed from the horrible touch of their claws. DH's critical wound table was rolled for all characters whod been reduced to zero, leaving Melkior with a shattered knee, our paladin with a hand so wounded he couldn't hold his sword, and Klint with a dislocated shoulder. It was Liam with his sword, Kooda with thrown daggers, and the intervention of Webber the town guard, who had merely been guarding the rear and observing, that finally finished off the scaberous undead corpse beasts. By that time, the skeletons were beginning to shake off the effect of the Deacon's silver mandolin strings, and were approaching with rusty swords in their bony hands, so the able bodied remainder of the party hefted the inert bodies of their comrades and beat a hasty retreat back to the first room, where they barricaded the door and waited for the ghoul's uncanny paralysis to wear off.

It was decided that we would leave Klint and Melkior here as their injuries made them incapable of continuing. (This was fine with Klint because his player was absent, so he was in henchman mode for this session.) Früdje was well enough to wield his sword in his off hand, merely losing the 1 point AC benefit of his shield. I think the Deacon used his cure light wounds on the paladin to give him a better lead on his hit points. Our main purpose in going back was to retrieve the ghouls' heads for the bounties, as well as the skulls of the skeletons, which being the weakest form of undead would be easy enough for us to kill even weakened as we were. We negotiated with Webber about bearing witness on the skeleton and ghoul heads we'd fought a few days ago, even if he hadn't been there to see them animate, and he agreed on condition that he got a share of the bounty. Grudgingly, the party agreed, and off we went.

Thus fortified, the group set out again and charged the skeletons, quickly reducing them to clattering bones with sword and staff blows. We then took a quick jaunt into the gambling den area where we found the re-killed skeleton and ghoul where we'd left them. Hastily taking the heads and popping them into Webber's notarized bag (I love that we brought a notary public down into a dungeon delve.), we went back to collect our comrades and got the h-e-double quarterstaffs out of there.

From there, we hied ourselves back to the Dying Minotaur and holed up for a few more days, allowing the Deacon time to accumulate enough Cure Light Wounds spells to set everybody's really bad injuries, and to let natural healing take its course as well. (As we were doing this, we'd quite forgotten that Amos' father had agreed to let us use his magic pool of healing if we needed it, a fact the young half elf reminded us of when we encountered him a couple days into our convalescence. D'oh! as the bard would say... Ah well, doesn't hurt not to abuse a privilege like that.)

Once we were back in fighting trim, we decided to go back down into the catacombs and check out some of the corridors we hadn't when we were fighting for our lives against the ghouls. We dragooned Webber into bringing his notary bag and coming with us, and also brought along Melkior, with his newly de-hocked sword. Thus far, the abomination slaying business had netted us 230 (by my estimation, we were getting 50 crowns per ghoul and 10 per skelly, and had killed four of the former and two of the latter. Or re-killed, anyway.)

The first place we checked when we went back down was the end of the corridor where the ghouls had been hiding, where a few chairs and a hearth occupied the end wall. After a brief search, we found a hidden door in the fireplace that led through to a small chamber whos' only feature was a small wooden box on the floor. Inside the box we found a velvet lining cushioning a potion of some sort, which we gave to Kooda to hold on to.

We then searched the chamber, and found another secret door across from the door in the fireplace. Feeling a bit edgy, we left the task of opening it and checking for traps to Klint, and all vacated the small chamber after tying our rope around his waist to pull him (or enough of a buriable corpse) out of danger should he be caught in the trap's area of effect. The thief did indeed detect a trap, but as he tried to disarm it he set it off, flooding the room beyond with some kind of gas. Not wanting to find out firsthand what the gas did, he turned on his heel and ran, and we slammed the fireplace door and left the area, hoping that time would dissipate the gas and give us a chance to go back there.

The group then proceeded to the gambling den, where we followed the corridor we had ignored in our fight with the ghoul and skeleton two sessions ago. As we headed back the tunnel, we found a crossroads, where the corpse of a huge, dog sized rat lay. Delving deeper, we found more and more sign of an infestation of the foul megarodents. We encountered a room full of baby rats, pinkies, the size of guinea pigs.

As we were surveying this horror, Webber cried out from the rear that he was being attacked, and sure enough he was being rushed by five giant rats, who leapt upon him and bit at him savagely with their sharp, chisel teeth. We encouraged Kooda to use his Sleep spell on the brutes, even though Webber was in the area effect. The spell was successful, and we simply woke the guardsman up, and then finished off the rats and popped their heads into the Lieutenant's notary sack, in case the town was paying a bounty on giant rats. (If they weren't, maybe we could sell 'em as bait to the fishermen for a couple pence at least.) We hadn't the heart to kill off the pinkies, so we simply pressed on.

We came to a crossroads, and decided to head straight, and eventually came to a large chamber where five of the giant rats had built a large nest out of branches and trash. The creatures charged us, hissing and biting. This time, we improved our tactics somewhat, letting Liam and Kooda attack with missiles (bow and thrown daggers) before laying into them with sword and staff. It was a rough fight that left us with a few rat bites (none of which, mercifully, left us infected with plague, a very real danger with such beasts) and five more rat heads in the bag. We searched the nest, and turned up a gold ring and a small red gem among the trash.

From there we went deeper into the maze, and found more rats, who fled into a rat sized hole in the wall after arrow fire killed one of their number. We stuffed the corpse into the hole to kind of block it, and then retraced our steps back to the crossroads, following another branch.

This led to another room with a rat's nest and several more of the beasts, which we dispatched fairly handily, although the details of it elude me. I do remember we found another dagger or something in the nest. There was an escape hole in this area too, which Liam decided to crawl down and explore with his elven ability to see in the dark. We tied the rope around his waist and sent him on his way, until the rope went taut with the tunnel stretching away ahead of him. He backed out finding nothing, and we went on our way.

I'm not remembering much more than that. I think the order of events and the battles with the rats are a little garbled in my memory. We threw a flask of oil and chased a bunch off at some point as well, maybe in the room with the pinkies, I'm not sure.

I do recall we searched behind another door in the gambling den room, and found a small chamber with a table, a rack of age warped spears, and a dartboard that had a mysterious map of some wizard's living quarters with directions to a stash of magic items behind a picture on the wall. It was as old as the complex, so we were unsure as to when and if the raid the map was a part of had long since been carried out. I'm not sure if we searched this room before or after the tunnel complex with the giant rats, I'm thinking after since I think it was about this time we knocked off.

All told, another good session. It's amazing how much you can get done in old school play. All of this activity, a bit of roleplay, some hiring negotiation, and at least four fights, all in the span of three hours or less. Compared to the slog of 3rd. edition play, it's really refreshing. I'm really looking forward to next week, and also to get some of my own DM'ing projects off the ground.

Other take aways: Our tactics are improving. We're learning how to co-ordinate our attacks and coming up with plans, which is a good deal. Also, once again ghouls are proving to be an alpha predator for first level parties. They're modest enough by way of attacks, damage, and AC, but that paralysing touch is n-n-nasty. Plus they've got 2 hit dice, which means they have a bit of staying power if your dice aren't hot. Long story short, I hates me some ghouls. Lookin' forward to the day when I get a D (for instant DESTROY) on the turning table. For now, though, I'm content to scare 'em off with my mandolin and whack 'em with my stick. Varmints...

Anyhow, thanks again, DH, and all my fellow players in the 10d Gamers group for another enjoyable session.

More LL at DH's

Okay, time to give the rundown on this week's session, before it totally ablates from my brain. We played on Wednesday, which also happened to be my birthday, and gaming on one's birthday is a fine thing indeed.

When last we left our heroes, we were about to venture down into a cavern beneath the burned out guard house that the party had discovered underneath a trapdoor. Liam the Elf and Yøgen Früdje the Paladin* led, followed by Deacon Silver, our mage (who's name again eludes me, sorry) and Klint the thief. When the elf and paladin reached the bottom of the rungs set in the earthen wall, they found a twisting passage lined with shelves that seemed to have been used a long time ago as a pantry, due to the rotting foodstuffs and crockery in evidence.

As soon as they stepped into the passage, they were jumped from out of the pitch blackness by a pair of skeletons led by a ghoul. The paladin was struck several times by the ghoul's scaberous claws, but managed to make his saves vs. paralysis and not fall victim to its touch. The elf was also struck, I think (my memory is unclear a bit to the sequence of events) which while he was immune to the ghoul's touch, still took him down to 0 hp. At this point, DH rolled on his special critical chart that he's using for this campaign, and determined that the damage didn't incapacitate Liam, but his broken ribs caused him penalties to hit. If he took another hit he'd be dead.

Finally, Deacon Silver made it to the bottom of the shaft and unlimbered his silver stringed mandolin. The sound of his playing caused the undead monsters to turn and flee back down the passage, allowing the rest of the party to make it down. (Most important to our purposes was the mage, who carried our only light source, a lantern, slung on his belt.) The paladin then used his healing ability on himself while the Deacon cast "Cure Light Wounds" on Liam, restoring his hit points but not removing the broken ribs (which would require a second Cure spell. Alas for being a 1st. level cleric.)

A little way in the passage we found a room with a hexagonal table and a hexagonal bed, as well as an iron bound chest in one corner. The party set about checking out the furniture, finding it old and dusty. When we checked out the chest, we found we couldn't get it unlocked, so the paladin struck the lid with his sword hoping to break it. This shattered something inside the lid which caused the chest to dissipate into a cloud of smoke which floated toward the roof and hung there. Puzzled by this, we decided to explore deeper into the tunnel.

We found another room that was unremarkable save for the advanced decay of the furnishings, and a chest containing another false bottom that hid a small amount of treasure. When we came out of that room, the undead returned, having bolstered their number with another ghoul. The Deacon's silver strings sang again and chased the monsters off a second time to the far end of the winding corridor, where they huddled in fear for the rest of the night. The party decided to leave them be, and explore another room we found.

In this room, we found what we presume to be the remains of a gambling den, with another hexagonal table with moldy cards and copper coins strewn across it. As we entered, another undead ambush awaited, a ghoul and a skeleton. Deacon Silver turned the monsters (I was on fire with my turn undead rolls that evening.), forcing them back into their alcove. The party decided to destroy these ones, so the archers started firing their bows as the paladin charged in swinging his sword.

This is where things got kind of hairy.

Once attacked the undead broke out of their turning and fought back, the ghoul clawing and the skeleton swinging a rusty sword. Früdje was struck so badly by the ghoul's claws that he failed his saving throw against the paralysis effect and fell back stiff as a board. Complicating this, he also was reduced to 0 hit points, and rolled on the critical table, the result being as he fell back stiffened by the ghoul's clammy touch, he fell on his leg at an awkward angle and broke it pretty heniously. (Like, Joe Thiesman heinous... Ngghh...)

With the paladin down, it fell to Deacon Silver and Klint to take the monsters out, as Liam the elf was still one hit away from doom and the mage wouldn't last long at all against the creatures. The undead managed to whittle the Deacon down point by point but he managed to avoid being paralysed by the ghoul. He got a good hit in on the creature with his quarterstaff, and I think managed to take down the skeleton, while Klint attempted to flank the monsters and backstab the ghoul. He failed to surprise the monster, but he hit with his shortsword anyway and finished the horrible corpse beast off. With that we decided to beat a hasty retreat, strapping the Paladin's rigid body to the Deacon's back as we high tailed it out of the tunnel and up the ladder.

It was just breaking dawn as we made it to the surface, and presently the paralysis wore off and the Paladin started screaming in pain as we carried him through town. We finally got him quieted down enough when we got back to the Dying Minotaur, where it was quiet in the early morning. We settled in and bought breakfast, and endeavored to get Früdje as drunk as possible so he could bear the pain of his shattered leg.

We carried him up the hill to the local temple to see if we could get him healed, but found the price for their mystical healing a bit steep at 100 gold for Cure Light Wounds. We were also a bit diplomatically challenged at the time, with our paladin being thoroughly hammered, and the rest of the party being rather antisocial in nature. We managed to get out of the temple without anybody stealing anything or angering the priests, so we decided to just go back and wait out the couple of days it would take for the Deacon to be able to heal everybody's damage at the tavern.

While the Deacon whiled away the hours playing his mandolin and keeping Früdje company while he sobered up, the other party members pursued various agendas about town. We spent three days at the inn, sharing a room and resting. We also got a little more info from Loretta the barmaid about the history of the burned down guardhouse. She mentioned that a prisoner had been kept there, who'd been just barely rescued when the place burned down. We flagged this as potentially significant, and went about our business.

Liam went hunting in the forest for food (preferring wild game to paying money for cooked food), and met a young half elf hunter named Amon whom he befreinded. They arranged for Liam to meet with the lad's parents to speak of recruiting him as a henchman in our adventuring.

Our mage went to speak to the senior wizard in the area in hopes the elder mage taking him on as an apprentice. The meeting was short and cordial, and the mage agreed to take him on if he could bring him the head of an ogre who'd been terrorizing the north hills with a party of gnolls at his side.

Liam, the mage, and Klint went to the captain of the guard and informed him about the nest of undead we found, and managed to wrangle a contract for us to clear out the dungeon, although we would require a witness to accompany us from the town guard, because it's easy to fake a bounty trophy with undead after a few hours digging in a graveyard.

Finally, once everyone's wounds had healed and bones had been set, the party went around to the home of Amon's parents to speak with them of recruiting the young half elf. They weren't willing to allow this, as Amon was quite busy running messages to their elvish kin to the West, who had recently been having problems with the incursion of savage wolves from the deep forests. We spoke of possibly being able to help with that problem, and so parted on friendly terms.

That was pretty much the extent of the evening. We had a little bit of diplomacy and role play, some action, some injuries, and we made a lot of contacts in the local area with potential for further adventure. All in all a good session. I look forward to next week.


*I'm not quite sure I'm spelling this right, I'm sorry to say. All I managed to retain thus far is our paladin has a high concentration of umlauts in his name.

Labyrinth Lord at DH's

Well, seeing as this is a gaming blog I s'pose I oughta talk about the gaming I do. Last night I just started playing in a new Labyrinth Lord campaign with my good buddy DH. Not a whole lot got done besides character creation, but even with a truncated session we got a decent start on things.

We rolled characters up using straight up 3d6's as they land (with one swap of stats if y'wanna be all namby pamby about it). My dice landed with some pretty average stats, with 13's on Wisdom and Constitution, so I was looking at either a Dwarf or a Cleric. As much as I love relentlessly speaking in a Scottish accent (it just happens with dwarves, can't be helped...) I decided to try my hand at a cleric. It was then I had the idea to pattern the character after Manly Wade Wellman's Silver John character, so I fixed him up with a silver stringed mandolin as his holy symbol, described him as a sandy haired Johnny Cash in chainmail, and set Deacon Django Silver loose on DH's world. I'll probably make a mini of him sooner or later, but being as this is no holds barred, full contact Labyrinth Lord, I'll probably hold off on that 'til he hits 3rd level at least.

The rest of the party consisted of an elf ranger, a paladin (both of which used expanded Labyrinth Lord classes that DH had downloaded, as well as a rule variant for demihuman classes that DH had cooked up.), a magic user, and a thief. Sadly, right now I can only remember the theif's name, which is because his player declared he was "The Man With No Name", although folks could call him Clint if they wanted. I'll try to rectify this lack of memorization skills in further sessions, but again, this being old school, I might not need to remember these names too long.

Anyway, the story began with the party trudging down a road along a river heading for a town on the sea coast. As the party neared a bridge, we narrowly avoided being waylaid by a quartet of pig faced orcs. Our paladin detected evil lurking nearby, and my character used his quarterstaff to tap out an approximation of footfalls on the bridge, luring the creatures out and surprising them. The party fired bows at them and the paladin charged in with his sword, mercifully shrugging off friendly fire from both the archers as well as a sleep spell from our mage. He got 3 hd worth of sleep out, and affected 2 orcs and the paladin, who thankfully made his save. Deacon Silver ran up to support the paladin if he needed it, which also put him in the line of fire from the rest of the party. We finished off the remaining orcs with sword blows and quarterstaff hits, coup de graced the unconscious ones, and rolled their carcass' into the river, where they sank out of sight due to their chainmail.

From there, we headed into town, pausing at a small guardhouse to speak to the town guardsmen who met us, mostly getting info about who the Captain of the Guard was, whether there was any evil afoot in town, and where we could get A: a good meal and B: a quiet place to sleep for the night. It turned out those would be in separate places. The fare at "The Dying Minotaur" was supposed to be good, but the place was reputed to be noisy, while the "Tavern of the West Wind" was supposed to be nice and quiet.

We went to the tavern and got a meal, some of us having the roast and others having fish stew, but all of us complaining about how much it cost. The tavern had a painting of a bull's head on the sign, and a bull's head mounted over the bar. We figured it'd probably go smoother for us if we referred to it as a "minotaur's" head, but we really had no way of knowing whether the proprietor had gotten it from an adventure or from the local butcher.

In the midst of our dinner, there was a really cool game mechanics thing that happened that I'd recommend to everybody running Old School editions. Our thief used his Listen ability to see if he overheard any interesting conversations around the tavern. This was essentially a B/X version of 3+ edition's "Gather Information" and I thought it was a really cool house rule for thieves, who'd naturally be tuned in to picking up tidbits of info while eavesdropping. I'm definitely gonna use it as a house rule when I get around to running some Labyrinth Lord.

So anyway, it paid off to, as "Clint" overheard a couple of fishermen arguing about one of them seeing a skeleton walking around in a burned out guardhouse on the other end of town. This made the paladin's ears prick up, so we found out the location and set out after settling our bill.

We found a building gutted by fire in the slummier part of town. Undaunted by its eerie appearance, we went in, scanning for evil from the paladin, using the ranger's tracking skills and elfish ability to spot secret doors, and otherwise just poking around. We didn't really find too much in the front rooms except wreckage and ashes, but the group decided to bed down for the night in the building due to a combination of cheapness, and certain members' preference to sleep out of doors. Since I'd bought a Camping Kit I unrolled my bedroll and we took turns keeping watch.

The night passed fairly un-eventfully, until the mage's turn came up. He heard something moving outside a large hole in the building's wall, and woke the paladin to investigate. Still groggy, the paladin encountered a giant rat sniffing around the perimeter, and ran it through with his sword. While fighting the beast, he spotted another back entrance to the building that we hadn't explored, so he and the mage went back and woke up the party. It was way too early to be awake, but we figured we might as well start the new day early, and went back to check it out.

The door opened into a small bedroom with a mouldy carpet on the floor, and a chest in one corner. The theif investigated the chest, and failed to notice a poison needle trap, which hit him. Now right then I figured "The Man With No Name" would become "The Man With No Heartbeat", joining the late, lamented Black Dougal in thief Valhalla, but mercifully the poison had long since dried and flaked off. (This, as DH said, was his single missed trap freebie, which is cool since the player was new to old school style play.) The party then proceeded to bust open the chest, finding nothing but mouldy old clothes inside. This aroused Deacon Silver's suspicion. Why potentially kill a feller over a pile o' cheap shirts? So I took my quarterstaff and busted out what turned out to be a false bottom, which contained a bag holding 15 gold crowns, which we split up among us right away.

Further searching of the room revealed a trapdoor hidden under the rug. We pried it open, and the paladin sensed a strong evil presence underneath. And it was there, with adventure beckoning, that we closed out the session.

All in all, a pretty good start. We're probably gonna need to work a little on party cohesion if we want our characters to make it out of rookie status, there were a lot of arrows flying at the backs of party members, although for a paladin this is a pretty common occurence. (I once had a paladin character who went through most of the campaign wearing a set of Armor of Arrow Attraction. Didn't really notice, 'cos he was a frontline guy and such a tank.)

I'm looking forward eagerly to the next session.

New Class: The Handsman

Now is the time for punching!

The following is an attempt to create an unarmed fighting class for Labyrith Lord with a more Western flavor. I envision them more as pugilists, wrestlers, and overall tough guys than as Shaolin style aescetics dropped into Medieval fantasy settings. Think Samson, Hercules, Little John, Popeye, Asterix, or any character Brian Blessed ever played, and you're pretty much thinking of these guys.

This is a conversion from the Handsmen that appeared in the Fort Standish sandbox campaign using the 3rd. Edition D&D Monk rules.

REQUIREMENT: Str 12
PRIME REQUISITE: Str & Con
Hit Dice: d10

Across the land, there have been despotic overlords who have decreed that certain fractious villages were no longer permitted to arm themselves. Being, as they were, fractious, these communities chose to obey the letter of these laws, but not the spirit, electing to strengthen their bodies and train in the art of fighting with bare hands or whatever weapons could be improvised, and thus the Handsmen were founded. From Clobberton and Musseldorf, Donnybrook and Greater Fracas, legends have grown of the feats of strength and daring these hearty folk were capable of.

Handsmen (and Handswomen) of different areas have taken to traveling to other villages to test their mettle with other schools, usually in contests of strength (such as hurling stones, wrestling bears, bending bars, or hurling bears) or, more commonly, public brawls. When two Handsmen from different villiages meet while travelling, it is not uncommon for them to enter into a challenge right on the spot. The loser of these challenges is often compelled to undergo an embarrassing punishment, or if they fought well and the winner likes the cut of their jib, to owe the victor a favor to be collected later.

Handsmen of certain traditions are known to cultivate impressive mustaches and/or beards (the Handswomen of these villiages respond to this with heavy pigtails that can often be used as weapons in their own right). Handsmen from the hamlet of Lucalibra fashion colorful masks that they never remove except in defeat. Handsmen live large and boisterously, and are prone to great joy, great rage, great melancholy, and great adventure.

ABILITIES:
Handsmen are rigorously trained to fight unarmed, and have a higher damage when they do so. Starting at 1d4 at first level (plus Str. Bonus), at certain levels they gain the ability to hit for even higher damage. Handsmen may only use clubs, flails, hammers, and quarterstaffs as weapons, and have an uncanny ability to create these weapons out of any furniture or foliage that comes to hand. (Hercules Haas, the strongest man in Musseldorf, once beat an entire garrison of the Duke Sable's elite guards senseless with a milking stool.) There comes a point in a Handsman's development, however, where such weapons are merely ways to offer themselves a challenge, simply because they can do equal or greater damage barehanded. (Proud Molly Stubbett, a Handswoman from the coastal villiage of Garsmack, once wielded a rowboat as a weapon for an entire year on a bet.) Handsmen fight using the Fighter's to hit progression.

Handsmen also have a special ability in combat, known as the Clobber. When a Handsman declares they are Clobbering a foe, they roll a d20 normally to hit, and then roll a d20 to see if they have knocked their foe unconscious for 1d4 turns. Their chance to Clobber is equal to their level, so a 1st. Level Handsman clobbers on a 1 in 1d20, while a 12th. level Handswoman, for example, would clobber on 1-12 on a d20. A failed clobber attempt only does 1d4 damage if it doesn't knock the foe out. Undead and constructed beings like golems are immune to this power, while large creatures like giants and dragons gain a save vs. Paralysis to avoid this effect. (Ugly Stan Bransson from Plugville once punched out a black dragon that had been devouring his cattle, then he decked one of his prize bulls for leading the herd into the swamp in the first place...)

Handsmen also train to increase their strength, although there are rumors that they enhance their prodigious abilities with magic potions brewed by local druids, or diets rich in leafy green vegetables. They gain a strength bonus at certain levels in addition to whatever strength bonus may come from their STR. stat, due to their knowledge of leverage and pressure. This bonus only applies to feats of strength such as forcing doors, bending bars, and lifting gates.

Finally, Handsmen disdain the use of armor (It is often difficult to get them to even wear a shirt.) Instead, they toughen themselves through exercise and mortification regimes, like frequent dips in frozen streams or sleeping in wolverines' burrows. At certain levels, the Handsman's armor class gains a natural bonus. They also do not use shields, but can benefit from protective magic items like Bracers of Armor if they can get them. (Although they risk derision from their fellow Handsmen for being pantywaists...)

Their abilities improve according to the following chart:


Upon reaching 9th. level, a Handsman may choose to found a school to train others in the unique fighting style they have developed. These schools take the form of a fortified building, and may be built anywhere, from large cities to remote wilderness locations. Upon doing so, 3d6 1st. level Handsmen (and Handswomen) will come to study under the school master's tutelage. Once they hit 5th level, these students will strike out on their own, to be replaced by 1d6 new 1st. level apprentices. If any students are killed in the course of their studies, they will not be replaced.

Handsmen use the Dwarf saving throw chart and advance using a Magic User's level advancement.

"C'mon boys, lets go beat up some ogres..."

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