Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

[Pariah]

"Crunchy whipped cream? Now that's bad for you!"

[Drhoz]

Trying to ID dragonflies Weldun and Sundog saw

 

Arram’s player: Six weeks of work and it turns out to have a Twix wrapper caught in an updraft

 

The players have also been discussing cultivating Brown Mold, for its spectacular heat-draining abilities, to make a walk-in freezer or even a refrigerated warehouse.

 

Kernel’s player: kinda icky, but it certainly works… why does it feel like brown mold is an automatic thermal regulator that escaped from one of the crashed spaceships

 

At least we should be able to get back out of the old monastery basement, if we only use the very edge of the stairs out. There’s also a bunch of doors down here that invite checking. Of course nobody bought door spikes or ten-foot-poles, because, as previously noted, we are not adventurers.  Happily, the Monastery doesn't seem very monstery, at least for now. The only signs of life down here is the mold that ate the stored food, then starved to death itself. Happily, it wasn’t Brown Mold.

 

Kernel: That’s well beyond Purify Food and Water. Interesting fact, if you cast Purify Food and Water on cheese you still get cheese.
Gonno: But what happens if you cast it on Casu Marzu?
Skave’s player: *looks up Casu Marzu* DRHOZ. I WAS EATING.

 

The next room used to be someone’s office.

 

Arram: ‘Day 300 - The cult is going well  - no one suspects a thing’
Skave: ‘Day 301 - Oh no they found me out. AEIEEE’
Eddison: And yet he had the wherewithal to write that out.

 

There’s a pair of magical climbing gloves in one of the monk’s cells. And some really nice silverware in the kitchen. 

 

Eddison OOC: Might be platinum. Or aluminium. Sorry, in fantasy language ‘mithril’.

 

In fact he’s so distracted by the servingware that the dining room full of zombies is a bit of a surprise. 

 

Skave: Don’t mind us, we didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner! *slams the door shut again*

Arram: We can do some comprehensive looting once we’re sure nothing is trying to kill us. 

 

At least we haven’t been attacked by Vargouilles yet. Of course, that might mean the monsters are lurking somewhere in the country around Selversgard. Not that we have any shortage of monsters in the old chapel of the murdered god Aroden - more zombies led by a Zombie Lord.

 

Zombie Lord: You …are not…welcome here. This is … the temple… of our dead Lord.

Some frantic in-party communication ensues by way of waggling eyebrows - we decide we can probably get away with a few questions before we have to run.

 

Skave OoC: Knowledge Religion Check, Are there any gestures of supplication for Aroden? Hand movements, Gang Signs?
Eddison OoC: GANG SIGNS?!

 

Zombie Lord: Vargouilles… do not concern me. Trespassers… on holy ground…concern me.
Eddison: The Vargouilles prey on humans.
Zombie Lord: Humanity turned… its back… on our Lord. Only we remain.
Eddison: Ah. A cult of Undead worshiping a dead god. 
Zombie Lord: If you do not leave… then you must stay.
Eddison OOC: Another visitor! Stay a while, stay forever!

 

Skave: Okaysorryaboutbotheringyouwe’regoingnow (Quick, bunch them up by the door!)

 

They’re not just zombies, they’re zombie MONKS, and they’ve remembered their Monk abilities, such as Stunning Fist. It’s just as well we have all kinds of special abilities too. 

Eddison Finally takes down the Zombie Lord with a Mystic bolt, leaving a single zombie writhing in a Web spell. 

 

Skave: *Critical fail attempting to shoot an immobilised target with his crossbow* Sigh. Gonno? He’s all yours…
Gonno: *flying kick with appropriate Wuxia sound effects*

 

Time to check the upper levels of the monastery. We take considerable care - we don’t want to fall through rotten timber again and plunge through multiple levels until we’re in the basement again.

 

GM: You come across a ruined office. You may make a Perception check.
Arram OoC: It’s OK, I like surprises in my life.
GM: There is a buzzing sound from the office.
Skave OoC: Well, give one to the IT Staff, All this time and the servers are still running!
Kernel OoC: It might be a Zombie SysAdmin and we’ll be be f***ed.

 

Unfortunately, it’s wasps. A lot of very angry wasps.

 

Both Skave and Eddison throw Alchemist’s fire flasks at it, to little effect. At least we establish that despite their reputation, wasps are not Evil, because if they were our attacks that do extra damage to Evil things would be more effective. Perhaps the wasps had been provoked by the Vargouilles in the next room. THEY are definitely evil. 

 

Skave, Loudly: FINALLY! My mutagen just ran out!

Kernel Summons an Aggressive Thundercloud next to one of them.

 

Thundercloud: Grrr. argh! *thunder rumble*

 

Skave Manages to take one out in a single shot. 

 

Skave: Wait, what?

 

He’s then promptly paralysed by another’s Shriek.

 

Skave: ZART

 

Gonno intervenes and uses one of the Vargouilles as a Speed Punching Bag, until it explodes.

 

Gonno: WHACKITAWHACKITAWHACKITA - I think I broke it.

 

Skave breathes a sigh of relief as his paralysis fades.

 

Skave: …Is that all of them?
Kernel OoC: Famous Last words of a horror movie victim…
 

[Drhoz]

Pathfinder : Hell's Rebels : Stone Cold Crazy

 

It’s a pity we’re so busy now the Rebellion has gone overt, because Civilla never got around to investigating what a Soul Anchor is. That sounds important. Terzo’s also been too busy to privately ask Civilla who ‘Cizmerkis’ is, but he’s unlikely to be happy when he finds out.

 

Terzo OoC: You see this? This isn’t my angry face. This is my disappointed face.
Rajira OoC: As opposed to his confused face, which we’re used to.

 

Civilla: It can’t have been the Green Hag we killed, I still have her head in a bag. 
Rajira: This one doesn’t have a head.
Civilla: Ah.

 

The reason she HAS the head is probably something else Terzo doesn’t want to know. It might be related to the ‘Founder of Dynasties’ feat Civilla acquired, and her relationship with fellow changeling Shimza.

 

Terzo OoC: So we are going to find out what purestrain Changelings are like? Hopefully nothing like Purestrain Genestealers.

 

The Skinsaw Cult would seem to be a priority, now. 

 

Civilla: PEOPLE are DYING.
Terzo OoC: Well yes, we’ve got an entire cult of Buffalo Bills running around Kintargo skinning people.

 

Norgorber’s cults are very secretive under the best circumstances, and the worship of Norgorber in his aspect as Father Skinsaw even more so. Happily Civilla can interrogate the city’s bird population for information now, thanks to a spell she learned off the Tengu, and corvids are very bright birds. It would seem the cult is operating out of a building we’re quite familiar with - the Fantasmogorium. At least they won’t have access to the waxwork of Kintargo’s most notorious serial killer - god knows what they could have done with THAT. Of course then there’s the question of what Civilla can do with it. She’s had it in her possession for months. Anyway, time to plan a commando raid.

 

… there are quite a few cultists in the building.

 

GM: Normally they’d come at you in waves, but you just HAD to come to them…

 

At least Terzo has brought a friend - one Bertuscio Corvus, a barrister who has become so incensed by the actions of the Dottari, Hell-knights of the Rack, and the militia in general, that he goes out at night and teaches them a lesson about  judicial overreach. With a whip. 

 

Although Terzo laughed til he cried when he heard that detail. But refused to explain why it’s so hilarious.

 

Terzo: It’s related to why I trust him. And why neither of us ever got married, actually.
Civilla: OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES!

 

And there’s the added advantage that even though Bertuscio is going around as the vigilante The Silver Fox, his actual surname is yet another confounding factor in any divinations seeking the Silver Ravens. Terzo doesn’t know that Bertuscio is actually a Kitsune - there was more than one thing they had long practise at keeping private - but does observe that while Silver Fox is one potential description of Bert, a better one is ‘polar bear’, especially now he’s aged out of his formally ginger Beard of Awesome.

 

Civilla tests the cutists' alertness with Luster the homunculus, and an Invisible Stalker.

 

Civilla’s player: Can Terzo and his…
Terzo’s player: Friend.
Civilla’s player: Terzo and his ‘friend’ even roll under 6 on a stealth check? Actually I don’t know what the relationship between Ayva and Portia is. 
Ayva’s player: We’re not partners.
Civilla’s player: Oh good, so I don’t have to say ‘the four couples sneak forward’. Actually, I don’t want to know about the cousins.
Rajira’s player: Mahat and I are worshippers of Calistria. We can avoid that question.
Civilla’s player: I note you said ‘avoid’.
Rajira’s player: That’s the advantage of being a follower of Calistria - you always have options.

 

Civilla hits the oblivious cultists with Hungry Earth, the description of which reads: "The ground attempts to pull creatures beneath its surface as if hungry for the flesh of mortals."

 

Ayva: Bloody hell.
Civilla: It’s like I said - Everything I do should be more or less terrifying.

 

In fact, a cult that prefers to attack from ambush, in pairs, is completely ill-prepared when surprised by an enemy with the same tactics. Especially when some of us can cast Walls of Fire to stop them running away. And Black Tentacles, so they’re doubly grappled. And on fire.

 

Bertuscio: Part of me is wondering whether this can really be justified as ‘killing in self-defense’ when they’re so thoroughly outmatched.
Civilla: This isn’t ‘killing in self-defense’ - it’s ‘killing in defense of the city’.

 

It’s questionable whether the rest of the cultists have even heard the commotion yet.

 

Cultists: Those.. those don’t sound like fun screams.
Avya: Don’t we WANT them to run into the killzone?
Civilla: We kinda do, actually.
Ayva: I’m going to have to do a painting of this soon. As a warning to others.

 

Given some of the tentacles are writhing under the door into the next room and the floor is making disturbing gobbling noises, the other Skinsaw Cultists might be reluctant to rush in.

 

Cultist One: We have to get in there!
Cultist Two: You first.

 

One of the cultists we have cornered manages to yell for help.

 

Civilla: What does he yell?
GM: Mostly inarticulate screaming at this point.

 

Terzo doesn’t have much to do, other than stroll along after the slaughter and occasionally check over his shoulder in case anybody is about to attack us from behind.

 

Terzo: *somewhat faintly* Well, this seems to be going … well. Given Bert just wrapped his whip around that cultist’s neck and his head came off. 
Rajira: No it didn’t, he didn’t get a Decap Critical.
Terzo: With the amount of blood that just sprayed around the room, does it really matter?
Rajira: Not really. 
Civilla: Don’t worry, in a few seconds the floor will have eaten them and you won’t have to look at it.

 

It’s already eaten most of the prone and screaming cultists. Their friends are probably going to be upset about this, so we’re kind enough to hit them with a Euphoric Cloud. The surviving cultists flee to try to get around behind us. They’ll have to go out the main doors and around the entire building, since we made our own entrance to avoid any such ambushes first. And unlike the party they don’t know the old museum is built like an IKEA with secret passages everywhere for the staff. 
 

[Ragitsu]

"Is that so? I would advise against listening to one of his 'tales', for they are treacherous; you are liable to slip and fall into a coma."

[Duke Bushido]

So yesterday was awesome and exhausting.

 

What with it being both Christmas Eve and Sunday, every player I have was off and, unfortunately, wanted to play.  I say unfortunately because those players are across three different groups.  The regularly-irregular Champions group wanted to do something-- so we did!  I had _nothing_ ready, so I recycled the Christmas Treant I used with the youth group last year.  A few on the fly mods to remove some of the humor and add some more overtly sinister, and done.  (yeah; this group is fifty/ fifty: half want to be noble heroes; the other half wants to be Batman)

 

The youth group wanted to do something so they could invite a couple of friends.  As before, I had _nothing_.  Honestly, no one has _ever_ wanted to play within three weeks of Christmas on either side!  It never _occurred_ to me to prep something, even just mentally.  I did have something rattling around in my head for a couple of months in case they ever did want to play again (they are _all_ in high school now, so I expect this fun thing they do with the old guy from church will fall by the wayside any second), so I launched into it for a couple of hours-- 

 

they are hot on the trail of the Good Guy.  After being totally unable to locate the Gotham-esque neighborhood known as "the Sty," they are growing more and more perplexed.  Finally, one of them suggests that all neighborhoods are hooked to utilities.  Perhaps they can split up and follow power lines and storm sewers to get where they need to go?  Two of them even call the garbage collection companies to see who runs to the Sty and when.  After a run-in with the homeless army in the sewers, they find themselves in the Sty, and explore for a couple of hours, looking for leads, and wondering where the police are.  We find a good spot to wrap up, and do so.

 

I had to.  Christmas Eve is also my amazingly-still-alive father's birthday.  (It gets better: my mother's birthday is New Year's Eve.)  I go see my folks (both of whom are the longest-lived people in their respective families.  I should be so lucky) where I thoroughly enjoy my mother and I honor my father.  (I hope you people can forgive me; if you cannot, I hope you can at least understand.  The more I improve myself-- no; obviously not financially.  The more I improve myself _as a human being_, the less I enjoy my father's company.  He has gone from a vibrant, intelligent man to the terrified, paranoid coward that a certain "news" channel creates in order to ensure votes for a unified party of paranoid cowards, and I find it.....   it's unpleasant.  Leave it there.)

 

After two bitter hours there, I start to head toward Brunswick, where my Traveller-on-Champions-wheels group wants to play, and then we get to the "quote of the week."

 

 

At this point, I have been running games for about twelve hours, and for three different groups, and almost all of this is off-the-cuff material that I am having to note just as hard as the players are so that I can work it into the stories properly when I have time (and before the next sessions).  I am frazzled.  I can _feel_ the overload sparks in my brain.  

 

NPC:  ...and that's when we found the ore.  Not dust and flakes like on the worlds in the green zone, but a pure vein of it.  Word got out-- I can't believe it was one of our guys; I just can't.  We've got our entire lives riding on this, all of us.  It had to be someone on the science team, researching it.  There's an Imperial science ship in the next orbit starward, trying to mask itself amongst the background radiation of the star.  It's here to study this stuff.  It may prove to be the next best material for creating Jump Grids.

 

PC1: Wait-- this is an unknown ore?

 

PC2: Are we safe this close to it?!

 

NPC: We are perfectly safe.  It's as inert as lead prior to refinement.

 

PC1: So this ore; what is it?

 

NPC: Joseph Rafiiki.

 

PC3:  Oh, Man!  I can't _wait_ to hear what _that_ stands for!

[Rich McGee]

55 minutes ago, Duke Bushido said:

Christmas Eve is also my amazingly-still-alive father's birthday.  (It gets better: my mother's birthday is New Year's Eve.)

Interesting inversion.  My father has been deceased since 12/12/21, but his birthday was January first.  

 

Out of curiosity, has your mother ever experienced discrimination or odd questions based on her birthdate?  My father did for most of his life, and we only discovered why after finding out that a 1/1 birthdate is a red flag for many agencies and businesses because it's regularly assigned to people who don't know or lack documentation of their birthdate, leading to assumptions about being an immigrant.  Not something you're legally allowed to discriminate against, but the reality of bigotry does not match the law's platitudes - even when one was born in California to lifelong US citizens and never set foot out of the country beyond visiting Canada a few times.

 

1 hour ago, Duke Bushido said:

So yesterday was awesome and exhausting.

Sounds better than my situation, with both my play groups and the game I run myself on hiatus until well into January - and two of those undergoing assessment to see if we want to continue going forward, change systems and start a new campaign, or simply break up the groups.

[Scott Ruggels]

On 12/25/2023 at 8:29 AM, Duke Bushido said:

So yesterday was awesome and exhausting.

 

What with it being both Christmas Eve and Sunday, every player I have was off and, unfortunately, wanted to play.  I say unfortunately because those players are across three different groups.  The regularly-irregular Champions group wanted to do something-- so we did!  I had _nothing_ ready, so I recycled the Christmas Treant I used with the youth group last year.  A few on the fly mods to remove some of the humor and add some more overtly sinister, and done.  (yeah; this group is fifty/ fifty: half want to be noble heroes; the other half wants to be Batman)

 

The youth group wanted to do something so they could invite a couple of friends.  As before, I had _nothing_.  Honestly, no one has _ever_ wanted to play within three weeks of Christmas on either side!  It never _occurred_ to me to prep something, even just mentally.  I did have something rattling around in my head for a couple of months in case they ever did want to play again (they are _all_ in high school now, so I expect this fun thing they do with the old guy from church will fall by the wayside any second), so I launched into it for a couple of hours-- 

 

they are hot on the trail of the Good Guy.  After being totally unable to locate the Gotham-esque neighborhood known as "the Sty," they are growing more and more perplexed.  Finally, one of them suggests that all neighborhoods are hooked to utilities.  Perhaps they can split up and follow power lines and storm sewers to get where they need to go?  Two of them even call the garbage collection companies to see who runs to the Sty and when.  After a run-in with the homeless army in the sewers, they find themselves in the Sty, and explore for a couple of hours, looking for leads, and wondering where the police are.  We find a good spot to wrap up, and do so.

 

I had to.  Christmas Eve is also my amazingly-still-alive father's birthday.  (It gets better: my mother's birthday is New Year's Eve.)  I go see my folks (both of whom are the longest-lived people in their respective families.  I should be so lucky) where I thoroughly enjoy my mother and I honor my father.  (I hope you people can forgive me; if you cannot, I hope you can at least understand.  The more I improve myself-- no; obviously not financially.  The more I improve myself _as a human being_, the less I enjoy my father's company.  He has gone from a vibrant, intelligent man to the terrified, paranoid coward that a certain "news" channel creates in order to ensure votes for a unified party of paranoid cowards, and I find it.....   it's unpleasant.  Leave it there.)

 

After two bitter hours there, I start to head toward Brunswick, where my Traveller-on-Champions-wheels group wants to play, and then we get to the "quote of the week."

 

 

At this point, I have been running games for about twelve hours, and for three different groups, and almost all of this is off-the-cuff material that I am having to note just as hard as the players are so that I can work it into the stories properly when I have time (and before the next sessions).  I am frazzled.  I can _feel_ the overload sparks in my brain.  

 

NPC:  ...and that's when we found the ore.  Not dust and flakes like on the worlds in the green zone, but a pure vein of it.  Word got out-- I can't believe it was one of our guys; I just can't.  We've got our entire lives riding on this, all of us.  It had to be someone on the science team, researching it.  There's an Imperial science ship in the next orbit starward, trying to mask itself amongst the background radiation of the star.  It's here to study this stuff.  It may prove to be the next best material for creating Jump Grids.

 

PC1: Wait-- this is an unknown ore?

 

PC2: Are we safe this close to it?!

 

NPC: We are perfectly safe.  It's as inert as lead prior to refinement.

 

PC1: So this ore; what is it?

 

NPC: Joseph Rafiiki.

 

PC3:  Oh, Man!  I can't _wait_ to hear what _that_ stands for!

We had surprise games like that back on the day, before everyone moved away after school.  Good times. 

[Cancer]

Quote

To misquote President Kennedy: "Ich bin ein dumbass."

 

[Ragitsu]

A toss up between...

 

"A beauty? She is one without peer. The Lady has had many statues erected in her honor."

"...among other things."

 

or

 

"What his armor will not deflect, I am sure his skull will."

[Cancer]

"I want to buy a couple of skill adds in Fragging."

[Cancer]

"They're all over at <player name>'s house playing Humans and Hangovers."

[Steve]

I miss @Drhoz. It’s been too long since the last update.

[Sundog]

We've had a bunch of disruption to our games, between holidays and a few illnesses.

 

[Duke Bushido]

Rhw youth group game had another session after a "it is too srinking cols to ait our here at a picnic table!" hiatus.

 

A couple of rhe toughest players,have forgotten a couple of the basics, so as a quick refresher, Red Cloak and Feral j(who have the most complicated builds od the group) ust happen to have been ambushed while doing some,after-hours research at the library archives undner the museum.

 

"...and the last of the villainous agents drop, victim of your sleep spell.  That was an attack action, C, so we have to end Red Cloak's Phase without any movement."

 

"It's cool. I look for the leader- the super-powered guy.   I want to bind him up with my restraining spell until Feral gets back to help me move him."

 

"You will need to re-allocate your points in your Multipower; remember?"

 

"Oh yeah!  Okay, I guess I can turn off the Flight; it can't really use it in here, anyway-"

 

"Still, being in the air did reduce the amount of damage you sufferered when that sexons goon ahot you the teaser,he took from the guard..."

 

"Yeah, but these guys are out cold now. Oh, I guess I should turn off my force field, too-"

 

"Remember parr of the dun is sticking to the themes of your character and his world."

 

"Hunh?"

 

"Do you have a force field, or do you-"

 

"Oh, right!  I make the handsign at the warrior spirit protecting me, and thank him, and tell him he is dismissed."

 

"His ghostly form turns to you,standing tall and proud, bashes his sword against his shield, holds his sword up in front of his face in salute, bows, and disappears."

 

"That would be _so cool_ if it was real-"

 

"In the game, it is real; enjoy it.  If you change your mind, you make it something else."

 

"Nah.  I think a pet warrior ghost is pretty cool."

 

"Sure, but he isnt a pet.  You summon him,to protect you; there is a contract to fulfill."

 

"Right, but we have a job, too.  I need to get information from the metal guy."

 

"You look around the room, and even with the rows of library stacks and the computer equipment, it seems kind of empty with the sounds of battle absent,  seven thugs lie strewn around the forefront of the room, victims to poor judgement and your ancient magic--."

 

"Yeah, I don't think these guys are gonna be making any more rabbit-out-of-a-hat jokes again!"

 

"-but none of these faces are familar you."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You don't see Big Iron, the street name,for the thug that can turn into metal."

 

"Ah, Man!  He got away-!  I guess I better go see if Feral is back yet-"

 

"You turn to leave the room and almost bump your face into a statue.  No, wait; statues don't move-"

 

"Move?"

 

"You glance up just in time to see the ceooked and cruel wry grin of Big Iron, his fist drawing back over his head, muscles tight,as bow strings.  "Suprise, Houdini!" he snarls-"

 

"Ah, crap!   Okay, so how do I Push my PD...?"

 

 

 

 

[Duke Bushido]

Actually, there were two from,tonight's session.

 

In the brief battle,just before the moment above, when Red Cloak summoned his Spectral Guardian (SFX for Force Field; this spirt,movws to impose,himself,and,his shield,between,RC and,incomming attacks.  He is also the SFX of Missile Deflection (only useable when Spectral Guardian is active), as we are going,through the combat, me,detailing the precision and periodically,acrobatic maneuvers of the ghostly warrior, right down to him spinning around Red Cloak just in time to protect him from a blow to the back of the head yet still managing, as a gunshot rang out, to thrust his sword from,behind Red Cloak and,over his shoulder, spearing the buller with the tip of his ethereal blade and flicking it harmlessly away--

 

"Holy crap!   This guy is amazing!  But Mr. Duke, how the heck did this guy get killed?!  He's awesome!"

 

"Cancer.  He was a smoker."

 

 

 

 

[Weldun]

On 2/24/2024 at 3:03 AM, Steve said:

I miss @Drhoz. It’s been too long since the last update.

On 2/24/2024 at 12:12 PM, Sundog said:

We've had a bunch of disruption to our games, between holidays and a few illnesses.

 

You have to understand that @Drhoz works outdoors, has been on holidays and returned to work during a heatwave.

Quotes are inbound, but my man needs some recovery time. 😉

Edited February 25 by Weldun

[Steve]

23 minutes ago, Weldun said:

You have to understand that @Drhoz works outdoors, has been on holidays and returned to work during a heatwave.

Quotes are inbound, but my man needs some recovery time. 😉

I understand. I’m just a fan of reading the quotes from @Drhoz and missed my fix. 😀

 

Is there a digital recorder running at the table or something? I could never remember that much table chat in my own games, even with notes.

[Sundog]

Nah, just Drhoz types like a madman.

 

[Weldun]

Drhoz (pron: Droz, BTW, not Dr Hoz), used to record and transcribe back in the day, but lack of energy/spare time means that he Google Docs it during sessions, then a tidies up when he gets around to posting.

[Cancer]

Still impressive typing speed.  I can't do that.

[Drhoz]

(Sorry for the lack of posts - between the 5 weeks interstate and overseas, and coming home to 12-13hr shifts in 43C heat (109F), we haven't had as many sessions as we'd like, and that's not counting some of the computer issues. Still, I got 21K photos on the trip and roughly 1000 species, so that's nice)

 

Selversgard pt.19

 

 

The village of Selversgard continues to expand, at least in population - the actual physical footprint of the town and attached farmland is still constrained by the agreement with the local druids. Silas of the Green, their representative on the town council, has been asked to negotiate for an expansion of the town limits. So we don’t see much of him lately. Skiri Olafsdottir has been spending a lot more time on the river than doing the job she was actually elected for. And Knobroc the gnome is leaving town too - he finds it too boring. Which, to be fair, is a very real health concern for gnomes.

 

Eddison: Yeah, stay colourful.

 

Miya has a problem too - her husband Falx Vandruber has disappeared. Vanished entirely, despite his escort. 

 

Eddison: So the Fey got him. And there’s no way to get him back.

Arram: No no, it’s all ghosts and werewolves this side of the river.

 

Gonno, Arram, Eddison, and Djeketh head off to find the missing miller. Still, at least we have a few newcomers to town to help with the search, such as the merc from around Magnimar-way who decided to retire and become a farmer away from the big city (and who keeps gets thrown into s*** every few months despite Cerebus' protestations...). 

 

Cerberus the Skinwalker Ragebred Standard Barbarian’s player: Well, Mostly a grumpy old Curmudgeon who always refers to himself in the third person and is surprisingly handy with an axe. (I.. uhh.. May just shave off the source character's opinion of women off the sheet though. I'd prefer him to survive character creation and not get murdered by Miya.)

Arram OoC: Back to having a second human-looking character in the party, now I'll look less like some kind of minder when we meet new people.

 

At least, he’s human-looking when he isn’t going full Earth-pig Born.

 

Eddison: Wait wait, you actually want me to leave town when there’s a bunch of women that have made their intentions clear?

Arram: Eddison, Eddison, we’ve told you before, the Drow are a figment of your imagination. Either that or some Pathfinder’s horny fanfic.

 

Cerberus is an outstanding tracker, that’s for sure, at least as far as Scent goes. Despite the snow he has Falx’s trail immediately. Djeketh can follow from there - he’s an actual Ranger. It would appear he passed near the grove of that dryad we know, so we detour to ask if she saw anything. 

 

Dryad: There was a man? He certainly seemed to be driven. And there was something strange about his face.

 

Dryad: I wish you well, but I should warn you. He was heading south, and there is a nymph that lives there. She is not as kindly disposed towards humanoids as I. And nymphs can be dangerous. But if you don’t mind I shall return to my winter sleep. 

 

Some discussion of Fey taxonomy ensues - we’ve met a Nereid, but that’s not the same thing as a nymph. Nymphs are the ones that are famed for their beauty.

 

Miya: Ah right, the ones that dance with satyrs, gotcha. 

 

Falx’s trail detours around a large bramble patch, so if he IS under an enchantment the enchanter isn’t completely heartless. Jeketh finds another track - something with clawed feet like a bear, but longer and narrower. It’s a full grown owlbear. And it’s tracking Falx. At least Falx has a very good head start - maybe the owlbear will lose interest.

 

Cerberus: DOUBLETIME.

Djeketh: Medium-sized at best. I have hunted many bigger.

 

Unfortunately, trudging for hour after hour through snow isn’t exactly conducive to mental health, and exhaustion and the bleak aspect of the countryside leave us quite ill-prepared to spot two raisins on a white page. Of, for that matter, an albino owlbear’s eyes against the white-out. 

 

Miya: They’d be adorable if they werent, you know, murder machines.

 

Cerberus attempts to murder the owlbear and gets thoroughly mauled instead.

 

Arram: That’s the problem with smelling of bacon. 

GM: He has the Disadvantage ‘Delicious’.

 

Arram’s OoC: You should probably put Djeketh on the initiative tracker. Unless he’s just going to watch us get eaten, which is always an option.

Cerberus: You mean eat me.

Eddison: Well at least the rest of us can run away while it’s eating you. Remind me, who brought snowshoes? Because as per the old adage, I don’t need to outrun the owlbear. 

 

Although given we have the sorcerer on magic horse, a Monk, and wizard with Fly, it’s pretty certain which party member is going to be left behind to delay the monster further.

 

Gonno demonstrates his personal martial art style, Boot To The Head, and the owlbear goes down. The barbarian nearly suffered Critical Existence Failure, however, which is definitely going to slow our pursuit of Falx. Djeketh is quite apologetic about missing the monster, but it’s not like the rest of us saw it either - the Earthpig’s sense of smell was our only warning. 

By the time we catch up with Falx he has almost made it to the big lake far south of Selversgard. Gonno dashes ahead to tackle him before he can drown. He’s not looking too good - he eyes are migrating far apart, his skin is terribly pale, and his ears have shrunk to almost nothing. And it looks like drowning wouldn’t be a problem, since he’s also developing gills. 

 

Falx: … Gonno?

Gonno: … Sorry. I think I have the wrong guy.

Falx: I’m sorry… I have to go. Tell Miya I loved her.

 

Eddison is an aquatic elf, and hails from Magnimar as well, so he knows what’s happened to Falx. He’s turning into a Deep One and is being called home. It certainly explains some of the cards he got in his Harrow Cards reading of the situation. Miya will be doubly horrified if she learns it’s one of her Oracular Curses that triggered the transformation. Falx might have gone his entire life without changing, if he hadn’t slept with the kitsune. It certainly doesn't bode well for the children. Hopefully they’ll lean more towards their mother’s lineage than his.

 

Eddison:  If you guys don’t want to do it, I will. He’s too far gone.

Gonno: Uh…

Arram: It's like he’s developed permanent lycanthropy. If werewolves were fish.

 

At least he won’t be a threat to the village, even after he completes his transformation into Deep One. They live in the deep ocean. 

 

Eddison: He’s got a long swim ahead of him.

Kernel: If we’re lucky he’ll get eaten by a giant eel. 

 

Eddison: Why do I see my job in the village is going to be tracking these bloodlines? Because I’m barely into my second century.

Gonno: I’m in shock how ruthless you’re all being about it.

Eddison: He’s worm food.

Cerberus: I’m just in shock thinking ‘Miya shtupped a fish?’

Arram: OK, neither of you are telling Miya what happened to her husband.

 

Eddison again volunteers to euthanize our friend.

 

Arram: Maaaybe a death that isn’t Dissolve His Face With Acid?

 

Cerberus does the deed, but we cremate Falx’ remains rather than give him a river burial as would be more usual around Selversgard. 

 

Cerberus: I don’t want to THINK about Deep One zombies.

 

And Eddison is going to watch the other villagers very suspiciously, and wondering how many of them also have Deep One ancestry. It might even include Cerberus, since Eddison’s researches reveal he was actually adopted from around here. There might actually be other skinwalkers around here! And hopefully not skinwalker/Deep One hybrids.

 

Over the next year other tragedies strike - Gonno and his wife lose their secondborn to illness, and Arram loses his wife and child in childbirth. 

 

Arram: I seem to have the darkest fortune when it comes to family. I am down to a single sister.

Kernel: Have you checked lately?

 

 

[Drhoz]

Chronicles of Selversgard Pt.20

 

19th of Pharast 4719

 

The eve of the Spring Equinox, when the Mayorship will be handed over from Blake to Kragor, Nothing of any note happened under his leadership, apart from the outbreak of illness that cost a number of party members their children, and the same party members having to kill their friend after he started turning into a Deep One. Not that they’ve told his widow that - she’s not likely to take the truth well. On the other hand, the new Mayor does have good news for Selversgard - the more progressive druids will allow Selvergard to expand, although one of the more conservative factions has broken with the circle entirely and is making threatening noises. The rest of the druids seem quietly pleased to see the back of them. Also, one of the ancient cisterns we cleared out has been repaired and is being refilled for the town’s use.

 

Eddison has divined something about the flooded silver mines near Selversgard, though - apparently they were deliberately flooded. And it's not at all clear why - it might have ‘a promise’ or ‘a warning’. Perhaps one of the elven druids will have more information - they might be old enough to have actually been around at the time. 

 

On the other hand, Skiri continues to miss council meetings, and hasn’t designated a proxy either. Even her family members have noticed that she’s become increasingly distant, and the Fisherman's Guild are getting a bit stroppy. Kragor has sent a few of the militia to bring her in and demand an explanation. Skiri’s reaction to THAT is a bit unexpected - she dived into the river and swam off. Eddison should probably pursue her - he is the only person in town with an actual Swim speed, for one thing, or so we thought. He’ll check that mysterious dome he found on the riverbed, first. He sees a flapping thing deep in the water, and discovers that they’re a pair of dwarf-sized pants. And sets off a trap. The harpoon is nasty enough - the poison is just rude. He swims to the surface and signals for help. 

 

Eddison: Yes, I'm actually using Snapdragon Fireworks for their intended purpose!
GM: But no-one ever does that!

 

Kernel’s player: ‘What happened?’ ‘Harpoon’ ‘What happened?’ ‘Harpoon’ ‘What happened?’ ‘Dinosaur, don’t ask.’
Eddison: Turns out Drow are into some kinky s***

 

After he explains what happened for the fifth time, Eddison suggests a plan to get past the trapped underwater door. Using Gonno and Cerberus for muscle, and animated mud as a target for the trap, we get the door forced open. Unfortunately, there don't seem to be any convenient air pockets nearby. Eddison does find a peculiar corpse, however. At least it isn’t Skiri. Kernel CAN give the rest of us Water Breathing for a while, in the form of magical paintings of Merfolk’s Comb, because we probably shouldn’t leave Skiri alone in a place that is clearly pretty dangerous.

 

Gonno: At least it probably isn’t another Owlbear.

Arram: I just want to see the monk kick somebody’s head off with swim fins. 
Eddison: FLAPPITYFLAPPITY

 

The aquatic elf is also alert enough to notice a certain oiliness in the water that wasn’t there earlier. Possibly some kind of cnidarian slime. 

 

Arram: Well, I’m heading back up, I’ll come back after you’ve dealt with whatever this is. 

 

It’s a Death’s Head Jellyfish - not generally deadly, but the venom causes a facial rictus.

 

Eddison OoC: Somebody actually made Jokerfish?

 

What’s more concerning is that the nearly invisible jellyfish has clearly been strung into position across one of the tunnels. Cerebus gets out his polearm.

 

Cerebus: SCHWING
Eddison: Can you never, ever, use that word in connection with jellyfish again?

 

It’s also just as well we jammed some of the more suspicious portals open - some of them are apparently rigged to slam shut. Although that would have limited the access the Bull Sharks had to the party. Bull Sharks are notoriously dangerous, and do well in freshwater. They certainly do well at turning the unfortunate Eddison into mincemeat. Frantically working together, Gonno and Cerberus stop the elf from bleeding out, but barely. Given the sharks were using his head as a chewtoy, it’s a little surprising that he’s happy to continue with the search for Skiri.

 

Eddison: ‘Happy’ is a strong term…

 

The barricades and warning signs in the Aklo tongue are certainly a cause for concern.

 

Cerebus: Well, that’s not going to stop me, I can’t read!
Arram: ‘Cerebus, if you can read this you’re going to die’
Eddison: ‘I can’t read therefore I’ll never die!’
Arram: Well your warnings and rotting boards are no match for my poking stick.

 

The chamber beyond is mostly frozen, and there are at least 3 figures trapped in the ice. Even with the brain damage, Eddison recognises the threat as Elder Things, ancient abominations that predate even the Aboleths.

 

Eddison: We are leaving and we’re abandoning the town.
Cerebus OoC: Cthulhu Popsicles. Great…

 

At least they’re still hibernating. Unless the ice thaws. Of course most of the surviving myths about them came via the Aboleths, who had reason to be biased. 

 

Arram: Bring them out one by one and let the barbarian murder them to death.

 

We eventually decide not to invite further trouble of the eldritch (and possibly rugose) kind and continue following the left-hand wall of the labyrinth, dropping Continual Flame stones at intervals in case we need to retreat at speed. 

 

Arram OoC: I.e. Follow spelunkers around if you want free flares.
Kernel OoC: Until we come back and find them arranged into an arrow pointing in a particular direction.
Gonno: A dark hole with a sign saying ‘FREE HUGS’

 

In the next room the water is warm to the point of discomfort.

 

Gonno: I was going to say something, but if you’re that hot you have serious health problems.

 

There’s a very very deep pit, with a red glow very far down, and the occasional bubble of volcanic gas. It’s a bit concerning that there’s an open volcanic vent less than a mile from town, but a more immediate concern is the pair of Devilfish. In fact, given what Devilfish look like it’s likely the water just got a little warmer. At least the jet black ink or blood they spray means we don’t have to look at them for long - although it doesn’t seem to stop them seeing us. 

 

Cerebus: Which way did they go?
Gonno: *completely obscured in the ink cloud* That way, I think!
Cerebus: Not helpful!
Eddison: Agh! I’m not comfortable being grappled there!

 

Eddison is mangled, and Gonno is grappled, disemboweled, and poisoned. At least the devilfish are evil enough that Arram’s pyromancy is extra effective. The rest of the party are a bit alarmed by the state of their Oread friend when Gonno finally crawls out of the ink cloud.

 

Gonno: Everything… going… black.
Arram: It’s just the ink, you’ll be fine.
GM: You’re telling him that while measuring him for a pine box?
Arram: I can’t tell him that - he MAKES the pine boxes.

 

Cerebus manages to stop Gonno from bleeding to death, while Gonno stops any more of his internal organs floating away, and Eddison discovers that the pocket of volcanic gasses at the roof of the chamber might not be breathable but at least is somewhere we can swig healing potions. If we had any. We’re not adventurers. The naked elf woman in the next chamber is in a pretty rough state too - severely disfigured by her injuries. She bows to us as we clamber exhausted and battered into her chamber.

 

Elf: My Master is aware of your arrival and does not bid you welcome. But you have proven yourselves resilient in passing our defenses and are worthy of some respect.
Cerebus: I’ve had about enough of this today - where is our dwarf friend so we can go home?
Elf: The dwarf slave? My Master acknowledges your request. I will take you to the slave. If you leave with her my Master will inflict no further violence upon you. 

 

Eddison and Arram exchange a glance, and Arram incinerates the elf slave when she turns her back on us. 

 

Cerebus: *epic facepalm* Great. What’s next, an Aboleth?!

 

There’s only a few options for aquatic telepathic enslavers, so it’s not entirely surprising that the Master is an Aboleth. At least it’s surprised we killed its slave. 

 

Cerebus: I F***ING CALLED IT  *Barbarian Rage*

 

The Aboleth is bright enough to recognise that Kernel is a construct, and doesn’t bother trying to telepathically Dominate him. Eddison is not so lucky.

 

Aboleth: KILL THE NONABOLETH

 

The worst thing about that order is that it remains in effect even after Arram parboils and Cerebus eviscerates the abomination. Which is very bad news for the nearly dead Gonno, who managed to summon enough adrenaline to try and knock out the suddenly murderous acid-flinging elf. It didn’t work. Kernel’s attack at least does work, but leaves the elf also nearly dead. Although Cerebus is certainly surprised when he shakes off his Barbarian Rage and sees the situation on shore. He’s also got his own problem - the Aboleth’s slime has made him flabby, translucent, and prone to fatal dehydration.

 

Cerebus OoC: Tell me the Aboleth was swimming over a giant pile of gold and treasure at least?
GM: No.
Cerebus: Gods DAMMIT

 

Skiri is in the next chamber, being tortured by a giant jellyfish, but not objecting. Given the absolutely incapacitating pain the tentacles inflict while Arram and Cerebus try to get her free, that’s pretty amazing. The jellyfish probably explains the injuries on the incinerated elf. There’s also a goblin, but it has the same flabby look as Cerebus now possesses, and is promptly dispatched anyway. Skiri keeps trying to return to her own torture, and has to be bound. There’s also a naked, blindfolded boy polishing various items in the Aboleth’s treasure chamber.

 

Cerebus: Oh great, the Aboleth was a wierdo.
Kernel: We already have three people to carry back to the surface, we’ll come back for him later. 

 

At least we’ll have a rough idea how long Aboleth Domination lasts - we just have to wait until Eddison stops trying to kill us. 

 

GM: Yeah. FIFTEEN DAYS from now.

 

Cerebus’ transformation is pretty inconvenient too. 

 

Cerebus: I have a suspicion I’ll want to wallow in mud when I get back.
Arram: Yeah, that’ll probably work, for a while.
Gonno OoC: SEA-PIG BORN

 

The blindfolded boy is not merely blindfolded, he’s had his eyes gouged out. And he seems mildly distressed to learn that the elf and the goblin and The Master are gone.

 

Boy: That is everybody I know.

 

At least he doesn’t object to being brought to the surface, in the absence of any orders to the contrary. He’s going to need a lot of deprogramming, and some serious healing. 

 

Cerebus: Let’s not do this again for another year.

 

Everybody in Selversgard is keen to learn why Eddison is tied up. 

 

Arram: There was a f***ing Aboleth in the bottom of the river.
Townsfolk: What’s an aboleth?
Arram: They caused Earthfall.
Eddison *mumbling through his gag*: Well, an argument between them and some serpentfolk caused Earthfall.

Cerebus: Can somebody get this kid some pants? And a Regenerate spell?
Gonno: You haven’t even asked him his name yet.
 

Edited March 11 by Drhoz

[Drhoz]

What a relief, Hell's Rebels Season Four didn't end on a cliffhanger and actually got renewed. (sorry for the very long but unavoidable gap since the last session) 

 

When last we met, Barzillai Thrune's fascist state was being rapidly unravelled by a coalition of artists, intellectuals, and sexual deviants. In particular the Skinsaw Cultists that Thrune imported are being demoralised and in some cases caramelised by our ambush inside Hocus' Phantasmogorium, and they're attempting to get behind us to counterattack. They don't know the building and its secret passages as well as we do. 

 

They also don't know that Civilla has Arcane Locked the front and side doors.

 

Rajira: We don’t want any of them escaping after all.

 

Rajira: So, Civilla, how does this ‘Hungry Earth’ work?
Civilla: Indiscriminately, as far as I know.

 

SOMEBODY on the other side of the next wall knows about the secret doors, and is loudly abusing the rest of the cultists, as we get into position to ambush them again. 

 

GM: I don’t think any of them have even SEEN you yet.

 

Mahat throws the door open and everybody who can throws AoE spells into the room, regardless of any works of art or furnishings still left from the original business.

 

Shimza: FIREBALL
Ayva: Those belong in a museum. 🙁
Rajira: This isn’t a museum, it's a tourist trap.
Civilla: FIREBALL
Ayva: Would a third fireball be a bit much?
Rajira: I don’t think so.
Ayva: FIREBALL. The solution to many problems.

 

Mahat can see the Skinsaw leader - she’s a beautiful humanoid with spider legs behind her.

 

Mahat: Well that's OK, I’m a snake man myself. You’re something, but I really don’t care what. Hey people, Spider Person!

 

After the explosions a significant proportion of the next room is glowing a dull red.

 

Ayva: We’ll consider that difficult ground, shall we?

 

The surviving latecomers from the first room take note of the repeated KABOOMS, reconsider some of their life choices, and instead look for somewhere to hide. The Spiderwoman seems to have avoided most of the conflagration, however. She attempts to Web Mahat, which at least is thematically appropriate. Rajira attempts to Fly behind her, and gets bitten. Despite her species' naturally toxic nature, she is Poisoned, and now has all the mental acuity of a poisonous mushroom.  Bertuscio doesn’t achieve much either. Terzo attempts a Blistering Invective to set the Spiderwoman on fire.

 

Terzo: Could you do us all a small favour and JUST DIE? *Intimidate check fails* I don’t think she’s going to oblige us.

 

GM: The Spiderwoman attempts a ‘if I’m going down I’m going to take you down with me’ and is now realising she cannot, in fact, take you down with her.

 

Rajira starts shaking off the venom while her cousin starts cutting off all extraneous limbs off the Spiderwoman.

 

Rajira OoC: A Restoration would be appreciated right now.
Civilla OoC: Shimza has a few bottles of Cleric in a Can.
Rajira OoC: Useful when we don’t have a cleric in the party.
Civilla OoC: Better! They don’t complain, b***h, or demand a tithe.

 

Bertuscio and Terzo get repeatedly referred to  as Bert and Ernie. Which is less than ideal since Bertuscio skill with a whip now get him pictured as Bert in a Gimp suit.

 

Terzo's player: Thank you SO much for that.

Ayva's player: Now you know what it's like living in my head.

 

Mahat and Bertuscio hunt down the cultists that think they can hide.

 

Mahat: Did you HAVE to get their blood all over me?
Ayva OoC: ‘Only when it’s funny’
Rajira OoC: Which is itself amusing because Mahat has no sense of humour.

 

Of course, there’s still half the museum to scour clean of murder-cultists. And we have no idea if they’re using the underground monastery for their own foul purposes.
 

Edited March 16 by Drhoz

[Pariah]

"I don't know what 'HD' is, but I've got eighty of 'em!"

[Drhoz]

Pathfinder - Hell's Rebels : A Song Of Silver

 

Rajira’s player: I must say I’m impressed by this module - not many reuse maps in a sensible fashion.
Terzo’s player: Well, it’s probably going to be a museum of the Rebellion once everything settles down
Rajira’s player: At least that’s a step up from tourist trap.
Ayva’s player: It’s been a headquarters for evil cultists twice. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice. 

 

Terzo and Rajira press their ears to the next door, and can hear some shuffling and invoking of verbal spell components. We all rush in before they can set up anything as nasty as we would in their situation. The remaining cultists have already retreated into the adjacent chamber, but that doesn’t stop Rajira neatly sniping somebody messing with a component pouch. They probably shouldn’t be gushing green blood, but that's more likely to be the result of Rajira’s venom rather than anything inherent in their own biology. Mahat rushes it to apply some more close-range violence and discovers that one of the spells the enemy were casting was Invisibility on some of the Skinsaw Cultists. The fight rapidly devolves into massed spellfire in and out of the doorway, and our respective combat monsters get into a scrum. Combat monsters like a Summoned Dire Tiger. 

 

Civilla OoC: I summoned a Shadow Blender.

 

One of the people on the other side looks familiar - we may have met her at that dinner party in Vyre. Mind you, she is currently in her Hybrid Wererat form, so we don’t know for sure.

 

Shimza: I want to go home, I've got a craving for souls of the damned. Or pickles.
Rajira: Why not both?

 

Terzo does have to uncomfortably close to the melee to apply medical aid. Mahat certainly needs it.

 

Mahat: I get by with a little help from my friends.
Terzo: That may well be, but do you get high with a little help from a Euphoric Cloud?
Rajira: Probably not, he’s got a racial resistance to Poison effects.

 

Mahat: Set kukri to ‘frappe’.

 

The mysterious wererat woman from Vyre does try to flee, and we catch up with her as she is frantically trying to open the door that Civilla Arcane Locked earlier.

 

Hei-Fen: *rattle rattle rattle* SH**!
Terzo: Have you tried ‘pull’ not ‘push’?
Dire Tiger: BIG RODENT *POUNCE, CLAW CLAW BITE RAKE RAKE*

 

Civilla abuses a few magical tricks to try and get some answers out of the Vyrish rat-lady, since the Dire Tiger got a bit enthusiastic with the gut-raking, but her departing spirit seems unwilling to co-operate.

 

Hei-Fen’s Corpse: F*** yoooooou… *blegh*

 

Shimza hands out little pieces of paper to everybody still bleeding from our various wounds.

 

Shimza: Hold this until I tell you to open it.
Ayva: This just says ‘Feugo-’*FWOOM*

 

Having a Phoenix-blooded changeling in the party is so useful sometimes. Even though it’s always startling when a fireball goes off in your hand and you feel better afterwards.

 

Shimza: What do I do with the other hundred of these Fire Traps?

 

Maybe they’ll be useful in her and Civilla’s long term plans to become the Immortal Witch-Queens of Kintargo. They’re already attracting a coven. When these are the kind of characters playing on the 'good' side of the Rebellion, you're already right to be concerned by the players' plans for the Hell's Vengeance campaign, when the PCs are working the Chellish side of events.

 

We’ll have to cart all these bodies downstairs to decapitate and bury (read: feed to a giant chthonic amphibian) anyway - it’ll make it much harder for anybody to interrogate them, for one thing. Especially if we dispose of the heads elsewhere. Of course given how many people we’ve got rid of down here previously, the psychic signature of the Hidden Monastery must be getting a bit polluted.

 

Civilla: There may be a haunting problem here later. 

 

We do find something of particular interest on Hei-Fen’s body. A contract, signed by Barzillai Thrune himself, promising that the Inquisitor and his underlings will turn a blind eye to the cult’s activities, as long as they use their ritual murders to destabilise the situation in Kintargo.

 

Rajira: Oh ho, we’re going to get SO much use out of that.
Ayva: Chelaxian bureaucracy wins again. They record EVERYTHING.

 

Barzillai will probably guess that the Silver Ravens or most accurately the Ghosts of Kintargo are at it again when the entire Skinsaw cult vanishes off the face of the planet. Certainly, without the threat of horrible murder and mutilation for anybody breaking curfew his grip on the city crumbles still further.