aaaaaaaaallllrighty, then...

Well, it's been almost a full year since my last post... so I guess it's time to start this puppy up again.

Anyway, hi there. I'm Nation, and in years past I played a lot of DnD (1st Edition). About two years ago I gathered a small group of friends together who had never played pen-and-paper RPGs, and we began gaming. It was my first real experience with DM-ing for any length of time.

We're still at it, and we absolutely love our semi-regular sessions. This blog was initially for adventure recaps, but I fell off that particular wagon fairly quickly. Now it's just for whatever I'm in the mood to write about, regarding the game that we all love...

So come along, won't you?

Mandatory viewing.

[Wholehearted Endorsement]

Just a quick break in the (in)action to plug a product that I'm happy to endorse.

John Stater (of NOD fame) has just put out the "Switzerland of the edition wars" retro-clone, Blood & Treasure. I was lucky enough to be in on the playtesting; it runs pretty smooth, and it holds common sense in high esteem - which is a major plus! Simple, fast-paced, and old-skool...

Anyway, check it out on Lulu. I'm enjoying it a lot.

-Nation

There's a world going on, underground...

In our last episode, three of our stalwart protagonists were trapped far below the earth in a room with a multitude of the undying, while the fourth attempts to effect their rescue. Nyatar, the half-orc priest of Horus, turns to face the nameless horror emerging from the main sarcophagus, just as Hoko and Napoleon get back-to-back to take on the half-dozen skeletal figures that advance upon them.

As the heavy stone lid of the large stone box slid to the side, there was a hissing of air; a sickly greenish glow emanated from within, and a mailed fist gripped the edge of the sarcophagus. Praises to Horus spat from Nyatar’s lips as his eyes and arms bulged with righteous fury, as he raised his sickle-sword and lunged at the new threat. His aim went true and the huge curving blade slammed in through the gap, striking whatever lay within an awesome blow. The sarcophagus shook and cracked, and the interior glow blinked out.

Hoko and Napoleon fought tooth and nail, dodging and striking back as bony claws ripped at them from every angle. With bow and knife they struggled, but were overcome; Napoleon fell first, knocked cold by a terrible strike to the face, and Hoko fell soon after, his ribs cracked by a skeletal fist. More and more skeletons pulled free of the walls as Nyatar grimly joined the fray... until a heavy grinding sound filled the chamber and torchlight once again shone on the room.

Narrowly dodging the doom that had befallen Jake, Furok and Archibald had remained in the tomb’s antechamber as the stone slab fell with a crash. They quickly lit a torch and addressed the blocked entrance. His muscles bulging with the strength of desperation, Furok gripped the door tight and lifted. Straining mightily, he lifted the thick stone slab until it caught on something just inside the lintel. Drawing his sword, he waded into the chaotic scene. Together, the three conscious companions felled the remaining creatures, Nyatar’s holy words driving them into a corner where they were easily dispatched. Magical energies awakened Hoko and Napoleon, and the group set about exploring the chamber.

Within the main sarcophagus lay a huge human corpse, its features mangled by untold years; at its feet lay a blade in a rotting sheath. When held to the light, however, the blade appeared to be untouched by the ravages of time, intricate writing inscribed along its edge.

Leaving behind Jake's gelatinous remains the explorers investigated the remainder of the level; they immediately happened upon a room filled with a variety of torturous machination as well as a series of cells containing piled human remains, dessicated with age. A message in a strange tongue was scrawled across the far wall in the largest cell, but having no means of translation our heroes had to settle for mere transcription.

As the group made their way through the cells, Furok (weilding the newly-discovered longsword) began to experience strange sensations. At first, he began feeling as if he were being followed or that there was someone standing behind him. Gradually, he began to hear a voice - faint at first, but growing stronger. The voice spoke in an unfamiliar tongue, always seeming to come from behind his ear. The voice would spill out a sentence or two, but would always come back to a single word: "Voss". Over and over, the voice repeated the syllable, "Voss". Furok finally consulted his comrades, but none could shed any light on the matter.

The quintet managed to map the extent of the level without further incident, except for Napoleon receiving a rather nasty giant centipede bite. Retracing their steps led them to the main shaft, the staircase beckoning them downwards. Forming up behind the hulking figure of Furok, the group headed deeper in the void. Another quarter-revolution and thirty vertical feet left them at the tapering end of the staircase, still thirty feet above the bottom of the shaft.

Before them stood another sealed door, less ornate than the first but no less solidly built and sporting a flowery script above the lintel. As for entree, however, the group was stumped - no amount of ranger muscle or crowbar-work could force the doorway open. Just when frustration was beginning to peak, Archibald the druid of Pluto stepped forward, rolling back his sleeves. Arcane words in a lilting sing-song voice filled the cavern as he thrust his hands against, and then into, the stone door. With a circular motion (sort of like kneading pizza dough, but in reverse), Archibald managed to open a hole in the door and gradually widen it to about three feet in diameter. A rush of stale air met them, and the group filed into the room beyond.

A ghastly sight lay in wait, the flickering torch revealing two skeletons in iron gibbets, fastened to the wall of the twenty-foot-square room; a latchless door lay beyond. The wary group tried various methods of provoking the skeletons into some form of animation, but all attempts failed. Opening the door, the group ventured on. The chamber beyond was much, much larger - sixty feet by 120 feet, with the adventurers entering on one of the short sides. Those members with alternate means of sight were able to discern a dais in the far third of the room, with some sort of sculpture or statue seated in a large stone chair. Four apparent braziers stood off each corner of the square dais, on top of tall metal poles set into the floor. Four other doors went off in several directions.

And then several things happened, simultaneously.

About thirty seconds after entering the large hall, a cold blue light and horrid screaming noise emanated from the small room they'd just left; the members closest to the door could see that the gibbeted skeletons were thrashing in their cages, heads tilted back, eyes and mouth ablaze with unholy light. At the same time, the four braziers in the large exploded into blue flame, illuminating the chamber. At that instant, the figure on the stone chair snapped its head up, its eyes burning a fierce scarlet. In the bright light, the group could see that the figure was wrapped from head to toe in leather straps that wound tightly around its body; faint glyphs and writings could be seen on the wrappings. The figure slowly stood, and set one foot forward.

The party responded - Furok drew his newly-acquired sword (complete with the repeated word "Voss" in his ear), Nyatar began to chant the battle song of Horus, Archibald drew his stone hammer, and Napoleon dissolved into a frenzied panic as supernatural fear washed over him. Hoko, his spells expended, ran to comfort Napoleon. As the stalwart trio advanced, the voice in Furok's ear rose to a crescendo, fairly screaming the word "Voss" at him. Almost by itself, the word formed on the ranger's lips and he spoke the syllable. The bright sword erupted in a gout of flame, fiery symbols now visible along the blade. His eyes wide, Furok now jumped into the fray with renewed confidence.

The leather-wrapped figure walked slowly down the steps of the dais and towards the advancing men. Furok stabbed the creature, but to little effect. A hearty blow from Nyatar's mace was turned neatly aside, and a formidable blow sent the half-orc reeling. Archibald managed to crack the being on the back of its head with his hammer before receiving a thunderous punch to his chest which sent him skidding across the floor, breathless. The figure advanced upon the prone druid, its eyes burning furiously.

At that moment Furok, his shield caved in from the creature's awesome fists, ran up behind the creature and swung with all his might. The fiery sword carved a blazing arc through the stale air, tracing past the being's neck. The creature took another step, and paused. Like a tree it fell slowly forward, the leather-wrapped head tumbling separately off to the side. The braziers winked out of existence. Panting, the company stood and gawked at their fallen foe. In his ear, Furok heard a chuckling sound and the word "Ligh". His heart hammering and his cheeks flushed with victory, Furok mounted the steps of the dais and walked to the stone chair. Seating himself with a satisfied smile, he laid the pommel of the sword on the arm of the chair and spoke the new word. The fiery blade sputtered out, leaving the chamber in darkness.

It was at that moment that the stone chair exploded...

Frog-pocalypse

Think this... but the size
of your dishwasher.

Our intrepid heroes have shrugged off their collective reservations and begun their descent into the depths of the earth. Coming across the remains of a fellow traveler did nothing to shake their resolve, but the sudden appearance of huge hound-sized frogs has given the party something to ponder. A melee ensues...

The cries of men and clash of arms are punctuated by a horrific croaking as the party pulls together for the common defense. Nyatar begins chanting, calling upon the righteous might of Horus and wielding his sickle-sword, as Furok skillfully slices into the ranks of outsized amphibians. The rest of the band is not quite as effective - Napoleon's arrows fly wide; Archibald's hammer cracks repeatedly against the walls and flagstones; torch-bearer Jake's screams are punctuated by a cloud of sparks as he flails wildly with the party's only light source. Of the others, only Hoko the lawyer/mage finds a measure of success, digging into the wriggling frog-flesh with his long knife.

In the end, the party catches its collective breath and surveys the field (or corridor) of battle: three giant frogs lie dead, one lies smooshed beneath Furok's shield, and a fifth lies dead at the bottom of the eighty-foot shaft that borders the stairway that winds downwards. Basking in the evidence of their own superiority, the party heads down the sloping passage towards the first landing, a quarter-revolution around the hole's perimeter.

They are met by a door that has neither key nor latch, surrounded by an ornate enameled entryway decorated with strange symbols in an unknown language. Hoko and Napoleon scribble furiously, copying down the writing. Some deft crowbar work and a little elbow-grease from Furok and Nyatar are sufficient to pry the door open and wedge it; after an initial hissing rush of stale air, a dark passageway extends before the group. With the elven burglar tapping inexpertly at the floor with the pommel of his knife and peering into corners, the party creeps down the deathly-silent corridor until they reach a "T" junction, with another strange latch-less door in front of them.

Following a brief debate, the group opts to pry open the door directly ahead of them. Inside, there are two stone chests and small empty sconces for oil-lamps; to the right lies an empty doorway, opening into a much larger chamber. Plunder fever washes over the party, and Archibald's half-hearted admonishments fall upon deaf ears. The chests are broken open to reveal a meager hoard: a scant hundred gold pieces and about double that number in silver and copper, all coins being of a strange hexagonal shape and bearing the same bizarre script from the initial doorway to this level.

From the chests, all eyes turn to the chamber beyond. Nyatar, Hoko and Napoleon lead the way into the chamber, with the rest of the group following. A cursory glance shows a number of skeletons scattered across the floor by the door, with a number of others chained to the walls. More than a dozen large stone boxes are neatly arranged across the floor of the cavernous room, with another huge box on top of a stone dais. Nyatar heads for the dais, while Hoko and Napoleon examine the skeletons.

At this point, two things occur nearly simultaneously:

• A horrid grinding noise comes from the doorway into the inner chamber as a huge stone slab come slamming down into the opening... as Jake is halfway through the doorway. His eyes bulge in horror and he makes to leap forward - but he stumbles, unsure whether to go forward or back. There is a hoarse cry, a loud crunch, followed by silence and darkness as the slab crushes both Jake and the party's only lit torch.
• The darkness within the inner chamber last but a moment before it is replaced with a cold unnatural illumination. A pallid blue glow emanates from sixteen pair of empty eye sockets as the skeletons all rise from the floor. Eleven of them begin yanking madly at their rusty chains, threatening to break free from the wall, while the five unfettered skeletons begin to advance.

Hoko and Napoleon draw their arms and move back-to-back to protect one another. Nyatar draws his sickle-sword and begins to chant his praises to Horus... His words almost freeze upon his lips as he glances back over his shoulder, certain that the stone slab covering the large sarcophagus on the dais is beginning to move...

Back on the horse

Yeah, it's been a long time since I last published, and I'd almost given it up. But I felt bad about leaving the story half- (or less) told, just in case somebody was following along.

So I'm going to strive to get current over the next week or so, cuz there's some crazy sh*t that's been happening in the game...

Geography lesson

So, in the interest of gradually (i.e. much too slowly) illuminating the world that I've thrust my players into, I though that I'd give the broad-stroke background.

(Incidentally, until I'm able to get a map loaded on here, a narrative description will have to suffice...)

Yrth (imaginative, no?) is a world like many others in the multiverse of Prime Material planes, with a broad range of climate zones. A world-sea surrounds the single major continent, which coils round the globe roughly southeast-to-northwest. The northwest portion extends up into the arctic circle, while the southeast portion wraps beneath it in the southern hemisphere and enfolds an almost entirely-enclosed inner sea roughly the size of Africa. The northwest portion of the uber-continent is known as the "head" of the world-serpent, while the curling southeast portion is its "tail".

The territories that make up the region of Wilusa lie in the northwest of the super-continent, along the northern edge of the White Sea; to continue the anthropomorphic metaphor, Wilusa lies at the "jaw-line" of the world-serpent's "head". The major city-states lie along the coastline at a latitude of around 55 to 60 degrees north, roughly the same as Juneau (Alaska), Oslo, Stockholm, and Edinburgh. The winters are harsh, to be sure, but the extremely high range of mountains that surrounds the region (the "Teeth of Ymir"), combined with the relatively mild influence of the ocean to the south, creates a passable growing season. Indeed, winters in Wilusa are far less hellish than those just a few score leagues north or west of the Teeth, where the wind can strip a body to the bone and men are said to be beasts and cannibals.

Wilusa proper used to be one of the furthest arms of the far-flung Nomoan Empire (thank you, Mister Stater). When the Empire began to fold in upon itself, six centuries ago, the outlying principalities were forced to become more self-reliant.

To Wilusa's west, across a long spur of the Teeth of Ymir that reaches the coast, are the lands of the Rhun, a conglomeration of different tribes and clans whose only real common denominator is their disdain for "civilization" and its weaknesses. Rhunish raids into Wilusa have become more numerous in the past decade, in spite of the twin fortresses that guard the only major pass through the Teeth.

To Wilusa's north, across the highest peaks of the Teeth, lie the uncharted lands of the enigmatic Ik-Ta. According to the writings of the handful of explorers who claim to have visited this land of grinding ice and darkness, the Ik-Ta are an insular folk, eaters of their own kind and hostile towards outsiders.

Wilusa's eastern and southeastern neighbors are Tormir and Valuna, respectively, both former Nomoan provinces that have taken radically different paths. In contrast with Wilusa's competing city-states, Valuna has a firm authoritarian theocracy in power. The Children of Julian are the ruling (perhaps only) faction in this arid land of scant resources, and the work of their Prime Factor is considered to be the law of the land; more and more, this word has been "expansion", as Valuna has repeastedly threatened war with its neighbors in a quest for more territory.

Tormir, on the other hand, is ruled by a centralized authority of another kind. Emperor Rothroc II is an aging monarch of a weak dynasty in control of a disintegrating state. The booming fortunes of Wilusa have come partially at the expense of Tormir's mercantile class, and constant diplomatic and military pressure from Valuna has shorn the kingdom of much of its prime grazing land. Under such tensions, Tormir is ripe for dramatic change - or utter collapse.

Ever a haven of entrepreneurship, Wilusa's newest fortunes are being made in the mining fields collectively known as "The Faces". The Faces are primarily located in the southern foothills and smaller ranges of the Teeth of Ymir. The first major gem and metal strikes occurred within the last half-century, with more occurring every week as prospectors and fortune-seekers arrive in the coastal cities.

We got to keep the Devil... Way down in the hole...

*Tourist lighting not included*

Our fearless young lads have finally reached their first “job site”… and have foolishly decided to continue on their current career path. Torches have been lit, horses have been staked, arrows are nocked (whatever that means), and the group begins to make its way down the mysterious, bramble-covered stairway, straight into the bowels of the earth…

One by one, the heroes-in-waiting descend; Furok in front, followed by Napoleon the burglar, then Napoleon’s sea-voyage companion Jake carrying a torch (almost forgot about him entirely –Ed.), then Archibald of Pluto, Nyatar of Horus, and Hoko the Lawyer bringing up the rear.

The light from the entrance illuminates a huge stone block, almost entirely filling the 10’ wide tunnel. Napoleon can scoot through, but it’s going to be hard for the outrider and both priests. Nyatar steps forward, his lips moving as a faint chant can be heard. The chant gradually grows louder, then louder still, and Nyatar’s eyes grow wider and wider. He lunges forward, filled with the holy strength of Horus, as his words echo down the corridor. Slowly, the huge block begins to shift. Inch by inch, Nyatar presses the giant block against one side of the passage, until a two-foot space has been opened for the party. Nyatar steps back, sweating and breathing hard, nodding grimly at the party’s congratulations

Looking down, the party is startled to see the (extremely) flattened shape of a humanoid. The fingertips that were at one time exposed have been gnawed down to the bone; the rest of the body is crushed, but untouched. A quick examination finds some destroyed personal items, and a pouch with mangled sheets of parchment inside. Napoleon has a look; there is encrypted writing on them, but he thinks that, given enough time, he might be able to break the code. The wrinkled sheets are quickly pocketed.

On the far side of the huge block is a door, which has apparently been opened. It’s a tight squeeze, but the party manages to make it through the gap, into the next section of corridor. There is a straight stretch, with a bend to the right after forty feet. Someone once told Napoleon that he should always check for traps before entering a cavern, so he does… even though he has no idea what he’s looking for. His appearance of intent is enough to fool the rest of the group, however, who follow him slowly down the hall.

As the group approaches the bend, Napoleon brings them up short. A faint scrabbling noise can be heard in the background, amongst the sound of dripping water. Turning the corner, the passage slopes down for another thirty feet before opening into a larger space. Neither the faint light source nor the augmented senses of the party can see the full extent of the new space, but all of them can now plainly hear the scraping, flapping sounds coming from in front of them. Full of vim and vigor (and urged by their bankrolling priest of Pluto) the group approaches the opening.

It is now plain that the new space is actually a huge open pit. The roof looms forty feet above them, while the bottom and far side are lost in darkness; the passageway becomes an 8-foot wide ledge that descends to the right, gently spiraling down into the hole.

Furok’s eyes grow huge, and he has just enough time to partially duck the shadowy form flying at him from the far side of the pit. A frog the size of a large German shepherd clangs off the top edge of his shield, and smacks into the stone wall close by Jake’s head. The party dissolves into chaos as more shapes come bounding and climbing out of the abyssal darkness…