Ever had Christmas come early? I did! Shameless plugging ahead.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Oddly Alone
I was in the mood to run some Into the Odd. But lacking a group at the moment I decided to play Solo! So, using the Wilderness Sheets from Scarlet Heroes, the 'Getting Lost' table from the D30 Sandbox Companion and my own Odd Encounters, I set forth!
________________________________________
First, let's meet ourunfortunate victim hero of the story, Holnrich.
Holnrich (HP 6 Armour 0)
STR 7 DEX 15 WIL 4
Pistol (d6)
Knife (d6)
Bomb (d12)*
Saw
Day 1
Holnrich... wants to get home. At first, signing on with the private militia seemed like a grand idea! Escape mother's basement, see the world, shoot and/or eat strange creatures! A pity no one ever told him that the army life required dedication, nerves of steel and a work ethic somewhat akin to that of a bonobo. And so he snuck away from camp... In the middle of a swamp. Never fear! the labyrinthine streets of Bastion are far more complex than some wilderness! With some idea of where Bastion lies, Holnrich skulks out of camp on a morning thick with fog.
Most of the morning is eaten up with wandering, but luckily for Holnrich, the swamp eventually gives way to plains. Not entirely sure he's heading the right direction, (off by a few degrees, still in the right hex though) Holnrich still feels better without the leeches and the mosquitoes.
Encounter Check: No wandering monsters,
Event Check: Venomous bite, no more exploring for the day.
Holnrich always was possessed of a certain sort of luck, his granduncle said. But then Granduncle was eaten by feral orphans from the Underground, so what did Granduncle Carlos know, really? Quite a bit, it seems, for one of the myriad pests from the swamp was carrying the White Shakes. A painful, if not lethal disease, by mid-afternoon Holnrich is shivering and groaning with pain. A small copse of trees and some tall grass make for shelter, and his threadbare militia coat serves for a blanket while Holnrich ponders his own mortality.
Day 2
With the dawn comes a new day... And new weather! Creeping from his make-shift shelter, Holnrich shakes a rat from his boot and creaks off.Light fog and the residue of illness combine to lead Holnrich off course, sadly, the ever-lucky Holnrich wandering in a Westerly direction until Holnrich's lost wandering lost, deposits him in thick, black-barked forest. This isn't right, the forest is NORTH of Bastion, while he Holnrich wants to go south!
As if things couldn't become any more distressing, through the boughs comes flickering torchlight. A friend or foe? Unsure, Holnrich draws his trusty pistol. Father always did warn Holnrich about trees and the clever Wywulfs that made their homes there. The light stops overhead, and whatever-it-is drops down before Holnrich. T'is one of the intelligent apes!
Augustus (HP 2 Armour 0)
STR 16 DEX 14 WIL 7
Musket, Pistol, Incredible Hat
Holnrich's father always said you could trust an ape with a hat! Stepping forward, Holnrich hales the primate, but is he a friendly sort of beast?
(Scarlet Heroes Oracle check: No, But (using the Oracular adjectives chart, I get "Abuse") )
This poor beast, having suffered the slings and arrows of his hairless cousins, is none too happy to see Holnrich. In fact, he's rather put out as Holnrich's stomping around scared off the truffle-hares that Augustus was trying to harvest the earcaps from. Oblivious to his new-found acquaintance's grievances, Holnrich asks for directions to Bastion. Or perhaps a map? Just some food or wine?
Will there be monkey business? Once more to the oracle!
Yes. Yes there will be monkey business. The great ape points north, to a village of the Quiet Folk that he's been harrying in recent days. Serves Holnrich right, being born hairless and feeble unlike a proper member of the Primate court.
Grateful, Holnrich wishes the ape well and trots off to the north. He'd really have to buy an atlas when he returned to Bastion and learn his directions proper. Unfortunately, Holnrich's lacking sense of direction leads him astray... right onto path with a quiet Folk deadfall. The sharp crack as the log swings down catches Holnrich's attention. He tries to dodge but oh cruel fate, he is too slow. The log sends Holnrich flying, inflicting 2HP damage!
Landing in a brambleberry thicket, Holnrich groans, laying there while he gathers his wits. No water, no wine, and is that blood on his jacket?! No... Just Brambleberry juice. Sighing at his misfortunre, Holnrich gathers himself up. Shame that the ape didn't warn him about the deadfall! He must not have known, poor fellow. Making a note to warn Augustus should he encounter the once again, slightly-limpy Holnrich toddles on his way, wobbling slightly from the blow he took.
But does he get lost from being dazed? Yes he does! And kind fates! He's pointed the right direction. Forest eventually gives way to plains, and to a rutted wagon road used by the Quiet Folk when forced to deal with outsiders. Ah, if only he could espy the smoke choked skies over Bastion once more...
Encounter check: none (lucky Holnrich)
Event check: none
Feature check: Road Inn!
Wandering in a daze, Holnrich at first thinks he's hallucinating when a caravansarai appears. He knows that inn! He relieved himself at its latrine before setting off with his mercenary group!
Sadly, Holnrich is void of cash. Perhaps he can sell his bomb? Into the caravansarai he slinks, carefully keeping watch for his recruiting officer. The man stayed over to enjoy the on-site brothel and buffet, after all.
Not spying the man, Holnrich heads for the innmaster's counter, and plops down his standard issue bomb, for surely it must be worth at least a portion of his recruitment dues?
Not the wisest move for Holnrich.
A look of alarm, and the innmaster goes for his gun... As do several of the patrons in the commons room. Does Holnrich get a chance to explain himself? To the Oracle!
No, But... Holnrich's luck holds true. At the sight of all the iron pointed his way, he does what comes naturally... he runs. Bullets whizzing past his ear, Holnrich barrels down the Taxmaster's Road towards Bastion. Eventually running turns to jogging, jogging turns to limping, and as the sun dips below the horizon, Holnrich finds himself in the necropoli which skirt the Taxmaster's road, vestiges of whatever great empire flourished here before Bastion.
Well familiar with the threat of Ghoul and Spectre, Holnrich draws his pistol, whispering half remembered prayers to some god or another as he stalks along.
Encounter check: Ghost, amorous (really? I wrote that encounter entry as a joke, dice...)
And as he skulks along, Holnrich catches sight of a tell-tale flicker of white amongst the tombs. A ghost? A corpse eater? The light draws closer, revealing itself to be... (random generation time!)
Quick and Random Amorous Ghost Generation!
Gender:
1-2 M
3-4 F
5-6 Eldritch
Prefers: Even- Men, Odd- Women.
Understands no means no? Evens- Yes, Odds- No.
Appearance: Evens: 1: Hideous 2: Homely. 3-4: Handsome 5: Stunningly beautiful 6: Uncanny valley
Results: Male, prefers men, does not understand no means no. Lovely as the Uncanny Valley (sigh. Poor Holnrich).
Doll-like, the ghost drifts closer, cooing to Holnrich as it opens its lithe and jointed arms. Common sense says to run, but Holnrich isn't the most sensible individual... and fails his WIL save. The night (and scene) fades to black
...
The next morning Holnrich awakens, clothes scattered around the graves, dignity somewhere miles behind. Gathering his belongings, he limps towards Bastion. Holnrich will be walking tender for a few days, but at least he has an impressive story to tell at the beer-stand!
________________________________________
First, let's meet our
Holnrich (HP 6 Armour 0)
STR 7 DEX 15 WIL 4
Pistol (d6)
Knife (d6)
Bomb (d12)*
Saw
Day 1
Holnrich... wants to get home. At first, signing on with the private militia seemed like a grand idea! Escape mother's basement, see the world, shoot and/or eat strange creatures! A pity no one ever told him that the army life required dedication, nerves of steel and a work ethic somewhat akin to that of a bonobo. And so he snuck away from camp... In the middle of a swamp. Never fear! the labyrinthine streets of Bastion are far more complex than some wilderness! With some idea of where Bastion lies, Holnrich skulks out of camp on a morning thick with fog.
Most of the morning is eaten up with wandering, but luckily for Holnrich, the swamp eventually gives way to plains. Not entirely sure he's heading the right direction, (off by a few degrees, still in the right hex though) Holnrich still feels better without the leeches and the mosquitoes.
Encounter Check: No wandering monsters,
Event Check: Venomous bite, no more exploring for the day.
Holnrich always was possessed of a certain sort of luck, his granduncle said. But then Granduncle was eaten by feral orphans from the Underground, so what did Granduncle Carlos know, really? Quite a bit, it seems, for one of the myriad pests from the swamp was carrying the White Shakes. A painful, if not lethal disease, by mid-afternoon Holnrich is shivering and groaning with pain. A small copse of trees and some tall grass make for shelter, and his threadbare militia coat serves for a blanket while Holnrich ponders his own mortality.
Day 2
With the dawn comes a new day... And new weather! Creeping from his make-shift shelter, Holnrich shakes a rat from his boot and creaks off.Light fog and the residue of illness combine to lead Holnrich off course, sadly, the ever-lucky Holnrich wandering in a Westerly direction until Holnrich's lost wandering lost, deposits him in thick, black-barked forest. This isn't right, the forest is NORTH of Bastion, while he Holnrich wants to go south!
As if things couldn't become any more distressing, through the boughs comes flickering torchlight. A friend or foe? Unsure, Holnrich draws his trusty pistol. Father always did warn Holnrich about trees and the clever Wywulfs that made their homes there. The light stops overhead, and whatever-it-is drops down before Holnrich. T'is one of the intelligent apes!
Augustus (HP 2 Armour 0)
STR 16 DEX 14 WIL 7
Musket, Pistol, Incredible Hat
Holnrich's father always said you could trust an ape with a hat! Stepping forward, Holnrich hales the primate, but is he a friendly sort of beast?
(Scarlet Heroes Oracle check: No, But (using the Oracular adjectives chart, I get "Abuse") )
This poor beast, having suffered the slings and arrows of his hairless cousins, is none too happy to see Holnrich. In fact, he's rather put out as Holnrich's stomping around scared off the truffle-hares that Augustus was trying to harvest the earcaps from. Oblivious to his new-found acquaintance's grievances, Holnrich asks for directions to Bastion. Or perhaps a map? Just some food or wine?
Will there be monkey business? Once more to the oracle!
Yes. Yes there will be monkey business. The great ape points north, to a village of the Quiet Folk that he's been harrying in recent days. Serves Holnrich right, being born hairless and feeble unlike a proper member of the Primate court.
Grateful, Holnrich wishes the ape well and trots off to the north. He'd really have to buy an atlas when he returned to Bastion and learn his directions proper. Unfortunately, Holnrich's lacking sense of direction leads him astray... right onto path with a quiet Folk deadfall. The sharp crack as the log swings down catches Holnrich's attention. He tries to dodge but oh cruel fate, he is too slow. The log sends Holnrich flying, inflicting 2HP damage!
Landing in a brambleberry thicket, Holnrich groans, laying there while he gathers his wits. No water, no wine, and is that blood on his jacket?! No... Just Brambleberry juice. Sighing at his misfortunre, Holnrich gathers himself up. Shame that the ape didn't warn him about the deadfall! He must not have known, poor fellow. Making a note to warn Augustus should he encounter the once again, slightly-limpy Holnrich toddles on his way, wobbling slightly from the blow he took.
But does he get lost from being dazed? Yes he does! And kind fates! He's pointed the right direction. Forest eventually gives way to plains, and to a rutted wagon road used by the Quiet Folk when forced to deal with outsiders. Ah, if only he could espy the smoke choked skies over Bastion once more...
Encounter check: none (lucky Holnrich)
Event check: none
Feature check: Road Inn!
Wandering in a daze, Holnrich at first thinks he's hallucinating when a caravansarai appears. He knows that inn! He relieved himself at its latrine before setting off with his mercenary group!
Sadly, Holnrich is void of cash. Perhaps he can sell his bomb? Into the caravansarai he slinks, carefully keeping watch for his recruiting officer. The man stayed over to enjoy the on-site brothel and buffet, after all.
Not spying the man, Holnrich heads for the innmaster's counter, and plops down his standard issue bomb, for surely it must be worth at least a portion of his recruitment dues?
Not the wisest move for Holnrich.
A look of alarm, and the innmaster goes for his gun... As do several of the patrons in the commons room. Does Holnrich get a chance to explain himself? To the Oracle!
No, But... Holnrich's luck holds true. At the sight of all the iron pointed his way, he does what comes naturally... he runs. Bullets whizzing past his ear, Holnrich barrels down the Taxmaster's Road towards Bastion. Eventually running turns to jogging, jogging turns to limping, and as the sun dips below the horizon, Holnrich finds himself in the necropoli which skirt the Taxmaster's road, vestiges of whatever great empire flourished here before Bastion.
Well familiar with the threat of Ghoul and Spectre, Holnrich draws his pistol, whispering half remembered prayers to some god or another as he stalks along.
Encounter check: Ghost, amorous (really? I wrote that encounter entry as a joke, dice...)
And as he skulks along, Holnrich catches sight of a tell-tale flicker of white amongst the tombs. A ghost? A corpse eater? The light draws closer, revealing itself to be... (random generation time!)
Quick and Random Amorous Ghost Generation!
Gender:
1-2 M
3-4 F
5-6 Eldritch
Prefers: Even- Men, Odd- Women.
Understands no means no? Evens- Yes, Odds- No.
Appearance: Evens: 1: Hideous 2: Homely. 3-4: Handsome 5: Stunningly beautiful 6: Uncanny valley
Results: Male, prefers men, does not understand no means no. Lovely as the Uncanny Valley (sigh. Poor Holnrich).
Doll-like, the ghost drifts closer, cooing to Holnrich as it opens its lithe and jointed arms. Common sense says to run, but Holnrich isn't the most sensible individual... and fails his WIL save. The night (and scene) fades to black
...
The next morning Holnrich awakens, clothes scattered around the graves, dignity somewhere miles behind. Gathering his belongings, he limps towards Bastion. Holnrich will be walking tender for a few days, but at least he has an impressive story to tell at the beer-stand!
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Saturday, December 6, 2014
Odd Encounters
A random encounter table for some solo Deep Country play. Using Christopher McDowall's Into The Odd.
1 1-3 Boggles
2 Unhuman Adventurer
3 1-2 Quiet Folk + 1-4 children
4 Bull Tusker Ox
5 Wywulf
6 Mad King John
Boggle (HP 1 Armour 1)
STR 11 DEX 13 WIL 6
WANTS TO EAT EVERYTHING. Hunger given form, Boggles are obscene caricatures of fat children with too-wide mouths. A Boggle's belly is as flexible as a toad's throat. When biting for Critical Damage, the Boggle swallows their target whole. The victim loses 1 HP per round until a successful STR check is made. Then, the Boggle explodes, freeing its victim. Everyone (including boggles) must make a successful WIL save or be impaired on attaks for the rest of combat.
Quiet Folk (HP 2 Armour 1)
STR 13 DEX 15 WIL 12
WANTS TO GNAW THE DEAD. Quiet Folk are a strange, unsettling lot. Driven to eat the dead, they acquire a taste for the strange fare. Dwelling apart from other folk, the Quiet Ones tend to their own, robbing fresh graves and scavenging carrion. They are not, however, above hunting. Bow (d6) Club (d4). Treat Children lack any combat skills, but will swarm potential meals, impairing their attacks.
Bull Tusker Ox (HP 8 Armour 2)
STR 20 DEX 10 WIL 2
WANTS TO BE LEFT ALONE TO EAT GRASS AND RUT FEMALES. Not much to see here. Big, angry. Will chase anyone wearing the colors red, puce or orange. Bull Tuskers will gore with their broad, sharp tusks (d10).
Wywulf (HP 9 Armour 2)
STR 19 DEX 15 WIL 12
WANTS TO TAUNT ITS PREY. Twisted hybrid of lizard and wolf, the Wywulf stalks the forests and ruins of the deep country. Against its armored hide, slashing weapons are impaired while blunt attacks are enhanced. The Wywulf likes to taunt its prey, and is capable of mimicking human speech with eerie accuracy. Specific voices, inflection etc are all tools which this natural mimic puts to use. Attacks with claws (d8)
Mad King John (Special)
STR 10 DEX 20 WIL 20
WANTS TO GIVE YOU SHINY THINGS. The ghost of a beggar. Mad King John appears... at strange times. Singing a Winterfest dirge, he presents a random piece of junk to each party member before vanishing.
1 1-3 Boggles
2 Unhuman Adventurer
3 1-2 Quiet Folk + 1-4 children
4 Bull Tusker Ox
5 Wywulf
6 Mad King John
Boggle (HP 1 Armour 1)
STR 11 DEX 13 WIL 6
WANTS TO EAT EVERYTHING. Hunger given form, Boggles are obscene caricatures of fat children with too-wide mouths. A Boggle's belly is as flexible as a toad's throat. When biting for Critical Damage, the Boggle swallows their target whole. The victim loses 1 HP per round until a successful STR check is made. Then, the Boggle explodes, freeing its victim. Everyone (including boggles) must make a successful WIL save or be impaired on attaks for the rest of combat.
Quiet Folk (HP 2 Armour 1)
STR 13 DEX 15 WIL 12
WANTS TO GNAW THE DEAD. Quiet Folk are a strange, unsettling lot. Driven to eat the dead, they acquire a taste for the strange fare. Dwelling apart from other folk, the Quiet Ones tend to their own, robbing fresh graves and scavenging carrion. They are not, however, above hunting. Bow (d6) Club (d4). Treat Children lack any combat skills, but will swarm potential meals, impairing their attacks.
Bull Tusker Ox (HP 8 Armour 2)
STR 20 DEX 10 WIL 2
WANTS TO BE LEFT ALONE TO EAT GRASS AND RUT FEMALES. Not much to see here. Big, angry. Will chase anyone wearing the colors red, puce or orange. Bull Tuskers will gore with their broad, sharp tusks (d10).
Wywulf (HP 9 Armour 2)
STR 19 DEX 15 WIL 12
WANTS TO TAUNT ITS PREY. Twisted hybrid of lizard and wolf, the Wywulf stalks the forests and ruins of the deep country. Against its armored hide, slashing weapons are impaired while blunt attacks are enhanced. The Wywulf likes to taunt its prey, and is capable of mimicking human speech with eerie accuracy. Specific voices, inflection etc are all tools which this natural mimic puts to use. Attacks with claws (d8)
Mad King John (Special)
STR 10 DEX 20 WIL 20
WANTS TO GIVE YOU SHINY THINGS. The ghost of a beggar. Mad King John appears... at strange times. Singing a Winterfest dirge, he presents a random piece of junk to each party member before vanishing.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Men call it a gift, a talent. I'll tell you what it is. It's a thrice-named curse, Magic is. A hole, a rip in a man's soul. And out pours the stuff of creation.
Man wasn't made for it, not that. He was never meant to take the smoke and the fire that the gods wove to make this world and all its sisters. Never meant to make the world's lifeblood his own.
But you can feel it. Can't you? That rippling itch, that... pull, that siren song demanding you reach deep down into yourself and draw the magic out, shape it, weave great spells. I know you do, I can see it in your eyes. And I can see the fear. That's good, fear. Healthy. Fear keeps a man alive.
Well get you up, my friend, up into the mountains yonder. Get you up to where the ice cleaves the peaks. If you're lucky... She'll find you. If you're luckier, she'll give you her knife. If not... Well.
Will we meet again? I'd say we will. As friends, perhaps, but we'll meet. Now get you up, time's wasting.
--Kalrathi Huntsman Orick Tar, to a potential recruit.
Man wasn't made for it, not that. He was never meant to take the smoke and the fire that the gods wove to make this world and all its sisters. Never meant to make the world's lifeblood his own.
But you can feel it. Can't you? That rippling itch, that... pull, that siren song demanding you reach deep down into yourself and draw the magic out, shape it, weave great spells. I know you do, I can see it in your eyes. And I can see the fear. That's good, fear. Healthy. Fear keeps a man alive.
Well get you up, my friend, up into the mountains yonder. Get you up to where the ice cleaves the peaks. If you're lucky... She'll find you. If you're luckier, she'll give you her knife. If not... Well.
Will we meet again? I'd say we will. As friends, perhaps, but we'll meet. Now get you up, time's wasting.
--Kalrathi Huntsman Orick Tar, to a potential recruit.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
The Titan Koriiae toiled over the forge at the heart of the world, brazing mountain to bedrock. In the titan's work, sweat fell from furrowed brow, dancing across its work. From these droplets were the Dwarves of Charos born. And from their creator they inherited a love of things well made.
Weavers of steel and fire, the Charos' dwarves ever quest after perfection. Believing all things to be base reflections of ideal forms, the Dwarves strive to bring that perfection to reality. The Dwarves swear to no patron deity, claiming Koriae as their creator and inspiration.
Weavers of steel and fire, the Charos' dwarves ever quest after perfection. Believing all things to be base reflections of ideal forms, the Dwarves strive to bring that perfection to reality. The Dwarves swear to no patron deity, claiming Koriae as their creator and inspiration.
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