Bik Britelite

Re: Fantasy Imperium?

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Journal of Typhus Latest installment. We returned to Sigil through the very gate we left. The sudden emergence gave my stomach pause, but the lack of any food eased the transition of gate travel. The shop keeper was startled at the sudden appearance of people behind his counter and he stood as if to protest. When he realized that we were the same people who entered the portal a while ago, he immediately sat down and shut up. Only Christoph gave him any notice and again apologized for our intrusion. Rolling my eyes again, I entered the street to wait for the others. Once we had all made it outside on the street it was decided that we would meet at the Slags, three bells before peak. I had only made a few steps when Brill came up to me and asked for work, more specifically, work when we returned from Rauxes. I seem to attract more filth the longer I stay in Sigil, but I informed Brill, “If you take my gold, then you do my jobs.” He nodded an agreement and then began looking around at Sigil, as his head moved upward and the realization of the city and its oddities, he grew pale. They all do. I went home to await the mornings departure to Rauxes. The evening went by slowly, the time spent reading my new tome and looking at the banner. It was hard to believe this simple looking banner was so powerful. The black silk hanging limply from the cross bar, looked like any other piece of silk. Eventually I nodded off, the exhaustion from the days of walking in the sand finally over taking me. There were no dreams this time but I did sleep for a few hours, the most I had ever done since arriving here in Sigil fifteen years ago. I left for the Slags early that morning, deciding not to use the banner to channel the power of Nehrull into my armor. The journey was difficult as carrying the banner and my scythe did not allow for me to lean on either for support. By the time I had reached the slags, I was exhausted, my body covered in sweat. Finding a stone slab to sit on I decided to wait there for the others to arrive. There are rumors of a creature that inhabits the slags, a prankster and killer. If there was something living there it did not show itself to me while I rested there for more than a hour. Either the rumors were false, or the banner kept it away I do not know, or care. I was thankful for the seat and the rest. As the bells were chiming I saw the others approaching as a group. My guess was they went to the Black Bird for breakfast before leaving. Pathos was again in good spirits, and talking loudly with Crux who feigned interest. Christoph on the other hand was intently listening to the story, looking like a child on his fathers knee. As we gathered up, Pathos handed everyone a brass ring. This was the key needed to open the gate to enter Rauxes. The gate was located further in the Slags, and was a sewer grate. During the walk to the grate, Pathos explained that Rauxes was a city that was torn away from its home plane during the blood wars and was ruled by a mad king, or something like that. I was not interested in the story or its back history, I only wanted to get the banner to General Pyrannden. We eventually found the grate and it took Marv’s great strength to lift the grate so we could enter. There was no ladder down into the sewer, and I could see standing water six feet below me deep in the hole. I turned to look at Pathos, and everyone did the same. He just gave the toothy grin and jumped into the hole. He disappeared and never hit the bottom of the sewer. Brill immediately followed once we realized how it worked and one by one, we fell through the gate. The emergence on the other side was smoother. We did not land as I expected to, but instead stepped out onto a street. Turning to look at where we came from I saw that we stepped out of a door frame. As people stepped through the portal, the area inside the door frame would bend outward resembling water on a calm lake after dropping a stone in it, their form pushing into this plane. Rauxes, the Fallen City, was in ruins. Not one structure was undamaged. Walls had collapsed either from fires or lack of support. The sky was a dull grey, no clouds, not even a sun or moon. I heard no birds, nor did I see one flying in the sky. Brill began to climb up one of the walls to look around and get a bearing of our location. Christoph, not wanting to climb but wanting to look around as well, had Marv toss him up into the air. Somewhere around the third story Chistoph latched onto a window sill and looked back down in terror at Marv, who was smiling back up at Christoph. Brill helped Christoph into the room as he had just finished his climb to the top. Not wanting to lose the location of the gate, as the doorway looked like many of the others I could see, I grabbed a piece of burned wood and used the charcoal to mark the gate area. By the time I had finished that, Brill and Christoph yelled down that a large fortress was to the north. Knowing that my reward would be in some park I asked if they could see one. They shook their heads and said the only real structure was the large fortress to the north. We moved out of the small side street we were in to a main street that looked to head towards the fortress. As we began our trek a sudden pillar of fire appeared off to the east, so Brill and Christoph ran off to see what it was while the rest of us resumed our march. Brill and Christoph returned a minute later to report that there were four giants of fire and several large insectoid looking hounds as big as a horse in the area. It was then the others noticed the large creature flying in the sky with a rider on its back. As it approached the area where the pillar of fire was an alarm bell started to sound in the fortress. Seconds later three more large flying creatures with riders entered the sky. It was at that point that everyone found a shadow or some rubble to hide near, except for me and Rhage. Rhage just stood there because we had stopped moving and no one had told him/it to do anything else. I on the other hand whispered a prayer to Nehrull and fell to the ground in pain. Blood shot out of my armor from the back as the armor started to split open. Two large spikes began to emerge where my shoulder blades were and after extending out of my back the armor sealed back up around the two appendages. For several seconds they began to grow and pulse growing fatter as time progressed. After several seconds the appendages burst open sending blood and ichor in every direction, and the newly formed wings began to unfurl. Still weary from gift, I stood and retrieved both the banner and my scythe. The wings were finished growing but it took several seconds to become comfortable flexing them. During this time the alarm had not abated and there were now several horsemen leaving the fortress. I overheard someone saying they bore the mark of a clenched fist holding several arrows, their horses having hooves of fire. Knowing this to be the mark of Hextor, and that I was told by Lord Nehrull to give the banner to a Hextor follower, General Pyrannden, I decided that I would head directly to the fortress. As those around me positioned themselves for battle with the giants and hound creatures, I whispered another prayer to Lord Nehrull and was filled with the rush of power from the armor. As the armor became engulfed in the black flames I leapt into the air, the great wings easily lifting my bulk. There were a few cries of my name from some of the men, I don’t remember who, but I ignored them and continued on my way towards the fortress. One of the flyers high above noticed me, and moved to intercept me. As he got closer, the image of my scythe, the armor covered in black flames, and the banner gave him pause. Instead of attacking he guided the great beast alongside me. “I am Typhus. Herald of Nehrull and I seek General Pyrannden.” I shouted above the sound of beating wings. He nodded slowly and pointed towards the fortress. Then turned his attention to the giants and hounds and flew off. As I resumed my flight I noticed that the horsemen were still pouring from the fortress, as there were now easily a hundred cavalry in full plate with lances heading down the road to the giants. When I came to the wall of the fortress I could see that more men were manned here. All equipped in plate armor, with shield, spear, sword, and crossbow. Not wanting to be shot down, I decided to land on the fortress wall and await a guard captain. While waiting I noticed that a very tall man, wrapped in cloth on a far tower cast a spell towards a giant down in the streets below. The magic struck the giant and knocked it sideways, leaving a charred black scar along its hide, and small tendrils of electricity still moving along the side of the wound. But the giant regained his feet and resumed the attack on the horsemen. Returning my attention to the men in front of me, I noticed that none of them spoke. There were no jeers or cheers for their brethren below. They just scanned the horizon, almost like an automaton. I decided that since I hadn’t been attacked yet my entry into the courtyard proper would be allowed, so I once again took flight. The courtyard was full of more men, and more horses with hooves of fire. All of them were quiet and mounting up for battle. I landed on the far side of them, nearest the largest building which would house the king, and this General Pyrannden. The two guards stationed outside were equipped with halberds and they were crossed in front of the door, barring my entrance. So again I announced my name, and who I bore the message for, but there was no reaction. I stood there, waiting for what seemed an eternity, angry at these two men. I wanted to kill them for their insolence at making me wait. My only restraint was that I was doing this for Lord Nehrull, and to anger my host would cause my Lord to loose face, something that I did not want to happen. So I stood there and fumed. As I noticed the others arriving through wicket in the fortress gate, the guards pulled there halberds aside and nodded. Moving through the main doors I walked down a long hallway, adorned with two great tapestries, one on each wall. Both showed of the constant war that raged here and for the most part, I ignored the wall hangings. The hallway opened into a great room with windows all around, a few guards, and a throne on which a drooling old man sat. As he saw the banner he began a cackling laugh that evolved into a wheezing cough. From behind the throne stepped two men. One of the men was obviously General Pyrannden, a large man, armored in a deep red plate with the symbol of Hextor on his shield. The tattered black robes and the holy symbol of Nehrull around the neck of the other man marked him as a priest of Nehrull. The priest, looked at the banner, smiled and turned to me, “Greetings brother.” he spoke and nodded. I nodded to the priest, turned towards Pyrannden, extended the banner and said, “I am Typhus. I have been given a task by my Lord, Nehrull, to give you this gift. The Black Banner of Rage.” Pyrannden grinning took the banner from me and gave me his thanks. Several guards entered into the room carrying three large urns, two of which contained the other Black Banners of Nehrull. When all three urns were set down, Pyrannden walked over to the empty urn and with a proclamation made to the gods, “The time has come for vengeance on Iuz and those who have opposed us for so long. Rauxes has returned from the Planes and the armies of Hell will march forth from the Fallen City to claim the souls of Greyhawk.” As the Banner of Rage slid into place next to its brothers a rumble through the ground and shock wave that moved through the air proclaimed a new era for the city of Rauxes. It was then that the room became brighter. As we all turned to look at the windows we could see blue sky, and white clouds. It would appear that Rauxes is no longer a missing city among the planes, but has returned to its home plane, much to the detriment of the nearby communities. Looking at the priest, I said, “My task here is finished.” I nodded, turned and left. The chosen of Nehrull turned and followed, as did Lilith and Brill, Marv was looking around waiting for something, my assumption is gold. Christoph was talking with General Pyrannden but quickly caught up. On my flight in, I had noticed a large park just off the road near the fortress so after leaving the fortress I made my way there. Upon entering I was assaulted with the same feeling I get when traveling through the gate, yet this was a more sinister, ominous feeling not because of disorientation. Once the feeling had passed I noticed a large black obelisk in the park. It had four sides, wider at its base than the top, and was easily eight feet across at the base and stood 30 feet tall. Thousands of screaming faces were carved into the stone, a painful and silent testament to the years of war in the Fallen City. As we stood and admired the stone, the priest of Nehrull appeared along with General Pyrannden, two guards and the drooling king. The priest moved past us, quietly issuing a prayer to Nehrull, and placed six green gems into the mouths of six of the faces. After a few more prayers he turned and nodded to Pyrannden, who withdrew a large sword from its scabbard. The guards forced the king to his knees, and Pyrannden said, “Your reign ends today!” He then brought the sword down and easily separated the head from the kings shoulders. The blood flying everywhere managed to hit the obelisk, me and several others. The remaining blood was slowly being absorbed into the ground as the body laid there and twitched. Pyrannden reached down, picked up the head and touched it to the Blood Shield of Hextor then handed the head to the priest. When I turned to look back at the obelisk, the blood had disappeared off its surface. The priest took the head of the now dead king and touched it to the surface of the stone. Slowly the skull was absorbed into the stone and a new screaming face appeared, one with a crown. The priest then withdrew the green stones from the obelisk and handed one to all of us, even Rhage. With reward in hand, I turned and left for the gate. I overheard Christoph ask if Crux and Pathos would like to go and look at a tower, to which they agreed. Only Brill followed along quietly, looking for someone or looking for someone to kill. Along the way I allowed the wings to die. Slowly the wings turned grey, fell off and turned to ash, the armor resealing itself where the holes once were. Eventually making my way back to the gate was easy, especially with the markings I had left like bread crumbs to direct me back. Thankfully the brass ring still opened the portal, as I was concerned with the shift back to its rightful plane may cause the gate to malfunction or become unusable. As I stepped through though, I cursed. I was now standing in four feet of stale sewage with no way out. Moving down to the right and left of the sewer I could tell that the only way out was through the hole in the top of the sewer. Brill who also appeared through the gate looked a little upset at his now ruined clothes. Since the distance was to high for me to jump, not that I would try, and the fact that my wings were now gone, not that they’d work in such a small space I had to figure a way out. So with a prayer to Nehrull, the armor again filled me with power and once again became engulfed in the black flames. Using my scythe like a hook through the hole, I climbed up the haft into the Slags. I turned to see if Brill could manage and saw he now had a small rope with grapple ready and was just waiting for me to move. So I left and went home to clean the armor out and discover what the stone could do.

Re: (Sigil Campaign)Record of Brill By jove, I think he's got it! Interesting backstory. I wonder if they are priest of Nehrull? Hmmmm. That could be a fun evening, me killing the priests of my god. Just to protect an asset I want to keep around. I imagine that the Hater of Life would gladly accept their lives just as he accepts others. The walking through cave ins old man . . . another interesting plot twister. So many possibilities. Sweet.

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Journal of Typhus Here's the latest update of the journal. Other than a spell check and a quick go over its still a little rough. But not to bad. The journey to the battleground where the Black Banner of Fear was lost took us deep into the desert of Carceri. The guide explained the journey should take the better part of the day, unless we run into the Blood War. The ever persistent battle between the demons and devils left entire planes in ruins. Carceri has its fair share of those battles, but usually they happen in the desert, away from the gate towns like Curst, and kept out of the cities like the Bastion of Last Hope. The sand here was of a large grit, the fragments of stone were sharp. The pieces that did manage to bypass most of my armor stung, but the sensation was quickly dulled by the ever present healing powers granted by my lord Nehrull’s armor. Along the way we found the corpses of conscripts in the blood war. Humans and other races were scattered across the desert, the bones already beginning to show white from the constant scouring of the blowing sands. The guide, Brill, proclaimed this as a new battle site, although from its size his guess was a skirmish. The bodies though numbered into the thousands. Again I found my attention drawn to Marv. Doubt again showing itself as no creature could fight in wars of this scale and continually live. Having witnessed Marv’s healing abilities I began to wonder if it was on par with what my lords armor provided me. The carnage did not seem to phase Marv at all, not that I would expect it to. He and the others looked through the bodies for remnants of loot, coin or anything worth retrieving. A few items of Blood iron were found and tossed into bags. Crux explained that the Blood iron was a lower planar metal that was enchantable and capable of wounding lower planars. I may have to retrieve a dagger or spear head of this iron. The idea of shaving it down to a finite powder to add to some of my potables was noted for further study. We rested many times that day, the sun and sand slowing our movement over its inhospitable landscape. The sand that did make its way into my armor did not hurt anymore, but the slowly filling boots required constant dumping as that did make walking uncomfortable. I was not the only one irritable during the journey. Late in the afternoon, we started coming across the corpses of long dead creatures. Every imaginable race seemed to have died here during a battle. Brill said that we were now at the battle ground. The bodies of old corpses shoved aside to make way for the new bodies. It would appear the blood war rages at this location often as some of the bodies were fresh, where others were nothing but scoured bones in the sands. As we proceeded into the battle ground further the bodies got larger and in some cases fresher. Off in the distance the corpse of some giant lizard dotted the landscape, large enough to look like a landmark on this featureless plane. Scurrying around the base of the dead creature were smaller creatures. Even at this distance Arrum could see what they were, “Hordlings.” he spat the word in disgust. The creatures were the size of a man, covered in a chiton with the tail of a scorpion. They had not noticed us yet as their attention was focused on the ground. As we approached we could tell they were moving about collecting items from the fallen and returning them to a pile of goods. “Its a fair bet that if the banner was here, they may have it in the pile.” Crux shouted to us over the wind. “Then I suggest we start our search there,” I replied. Then with my whispered prayer to Nehrull complete the armor became engulfed in the black flames. Taking the cue, Marv and the others began moving quickly forward, using the bodies of the fallen as cover to try and get as close as possible without being seen. The elf moved over to a body, laid down and laid his staff across the body and began sighting down its center. The distance being almost 600 feet away did not seem to give the elf pause, pulling his cloak about him he seemed to disappear into the landscape. An interesting weapon this staff. Continuing my march forward, I only managed to outpace the wizard dragging his bag and Toxas. The lizard and cart moved slowly forward. The hordlings did notice us eventually. Either the cart or Marv being the reason for the sudden chatter and moving to intercept us. My gaze was on the pile of goods just a few feet from the body of the dead lizard. While the battle would rage on, I would find the banner and make my escape. As it turns out I never made it to the pile. Long before I reached the others who were already engaged in combat with the creatures an imp suddenly appeared in front of me dragging the standard with him. I looked down at the small creature, never having seen one this close, his only weapon a small club. The standard was some fifteen feet long, with a seven foot banner made of black silk. The imp could barely lift one end. Looking at me the imp lifted the end up as high as it could and said, “Here.” Snatching at the pole I asked, “Who are you?” to which the imp simply vanished. I hefted the standard up and once I had made a reasonable purchase I turned and left. This was most definitely the prize I sought, as I could feel the power of Nehrull move through me as I carried the standard. The flames of the armor seemed thicker, more powerful, I almost felt young again. The banner itself radiated darkness out into the distance. Grinning, I moved away from the sounds of the battle. A scream announced the arrival, or death of something large but I did not turn back, instead marching on towards my prize. It wasn’t until a minute later that I noticed that my armor still was in flames, the power not ebbing like it always does. The banner seemed to amplify and continue its abilities longer than they should be able to. I eventually became aware of the female, Lilith and her meat shield following close behind. It wasn’t until I passed the elf and realized that he too was now in tow that the sounds of battle had stopped. The elf proclaiming to me that perhaps we should wait on the others. I turned to see how many of the members were trying to catch up and to see if any were dead. Sadly, all of them seemed to make it. Even at the distance that I was at I could tell that some of them were a little “damaged.” I could hear Pathos laughing with Arrum about some detail of the fight, the words lost on the wind. Arrum did not look pleased but nodded at the end of discussion. Seeing that it would take a few minutes for them to catch up and since we were far enough away from the battle that we could set up a camp for the night here rather than continue on, I looked at the elf and said, “fine.” The standard had a spiked bottom and top. One I imagine for impaling the ground, the opposite end for impaling others. Since we would be setting up a camp, I decided to plant the standard where we had stopped. As I shoved the Banner of Fear into the sand, it seemed to drive itself deeper than it should have. As if it desired to be planted. The moment it had the wind died down around us and the black silk of the banner snapped as a sail would on a ship when catching the wind. I then could feel a tremor radiate outward from the standard, and then a slight rumbling of the ground beneath our feet began. Lilith immediately cried in protest, the elf withdrew a sword that I had not seen him wield before that emitted a high pitch hum of its own. The others stopped coming closer and looked around for danger. Looking around I noticed the bodies of fallen warriors hidden by the sand pulling themselves out of the earth and standing upright. Nothing but skeletons now, armed with whatever was on their person when they died, they moved towards the banner forming into rows. Looking like soldiers at a parade ground they stood there, like Rhage, but staring with lifeless eyes at the Banner of Fear. With a sneer I addressed them, “Protect.” With the order given the skeletons moved outward in a cover formation intent on doing the others that had lagged behind harm. Marv seeing the threat set down a large bag of loot and readied his axe. Laughing out loud I yelled, “Halt!” to which the skeletons did as I commanded. Sensing the danger had passed, the others quickly moved towards us avoiding the weapons reach of the skeletons. Once all were near the banner, I again yelled for them to “Protect.” This time the skeletons moved outward, remaining in the darkness of the banner and set up a picket line. Pathos was the only other individual smiling and between hacking looked and said, “Nice toy.” Then flashing his grin sat down heavily in the sand. As I too turned to find a place to sit and rest I noticed that the weight of the armor had returned, and the flames had ceased. No longer holding the banner my power had ended. Suddenly off to one side a bright light formed and looking in its direction I noticed Christoph holding an ornate silver looking short sword with runes etched along its blade. The light emanating from the sword and its runes was trying to push the darkness of the banner back but failing to do so. I was about to yell at Christoph when I saw Crux approach and heard him tell Christoph to hold the sword out, away from his body. Crux withdrew Bane and moved the blade close to Christophs and a deep crackling vibration seemed to form that I could feel in my chest. I could see Christophs hand shaking from the vibration, but Cruxs hand was steady. Eventually Crux sheathed Bane and said, “You have a blade of power. If it wasn’t broken it would be a great weapon.” Christoph just stared at it, no longer shaking from the more powerful Bane’s power. “Put it away!” I growled to Christoph. I did not like the sword one bit, and I certainly did not like the sword this close to the banner. I doubt that it could do anything, but I was going to take no chances. Christoph immediately sheathed the weapon but found his hand wandering to its pommel all night long. Occasionally he would withdraw the blade a few inches and then immediately shove it back into the scabbard. As we prepared the camp, Brill told us to be on guard as the night was more lively because the creatures of the area would operate during the cooler night. As the sun seemed to set the temperature did drop significantly, and although the others piled more winter clothing onto themselves, my brothers and I were fine. The night though was uneventful as the banner seemed to keep everything at bay during the night. Crux and Pathos then explained to the others what the next leg of the journey entailed. The idea of going into an active blood war battle did not seem to sit well with the others, only my brothers and I looked forward to it. Well, maybe Marv to some extent, he does love using his axe. In the morning we resumed our march back to Curst so that we could reenter Sigil and then head through a gate there to Rauxes, the Fallen City.

Re: Ritterschlag Bahaha, that was good. Felt bad for the Blue knight though. I mean, damn, it fell off. Oh and using Dashboard, German to English translator, Ritterschlag means Knight Impact. Just an FYI.

Re: [sigil Campaign] Typhus That's "Mr. Suck-Up" to you monkey boy!

Re: Fantasy Imperium? Wow, discussions including HARN. Boy does that bring back memories. Spend hours setting up your character and roll to learn you start the game with a loincloth and the family potato. Kidding aside, it does sound interesting to read, but I have not heard anything about the game yet. I imagine I will, our local store is rather good at aquiring material.

I am making this post for several reasons. 1) Because I really like playing this guy and I would like to share a little more of him with other forum junkies like myself. 2) It has been asked by some to post powers and items that have been created so others could “borrow” them. 3) I am always looking for some input on how to shave points, fix glaring errors on my part, and/or so others could post ideas that I may incorporate into Typhus. So without further ado, I present Typhus. (189 points, unless my math is off . . . again.) Physical description: Typhus is a haggard looking man. When his helmet is off, his rotting skin with patchwork facial hair, and long stringy hair is overwhelming to look at. Typhus is usually slumped over from the weight of the armor. He wheezes as he breathes and has a raspy old voice. Height: 6’ 2” Weight: 168 lbs. Race: Human, Telphanian Sex: Male Age: unknown. Typhus does not openly wear a holy symbol to his god, Nehrull. His reasoning is, “Why would I need to? Nehrull knows of my devotion to him. Is it required to be recognized by others in order to do deeds in my gods name? No. So why should I proclaim it to the world when the only one that matters is Nehrull himself?” The constant pain of wearing such a large, cumbersome piece of equipment in exchange for eternal life is viewed as a blessing. Is it painful? Yes, but Typhus would have it no other way. Does the lack of real sleep make him irritable? Most certainly yes, this irritability does not bother Typhus, only those he interacts with and he doesn’t care about them at all. Whenever Typhus wishes to enact a power, this blessing is the incantation used to enact whichever power Typhus wishes. Nehrull’s Blessing Nehrull, lord of death, hater of life behold the suffering strength my gift unto your blessings. **Disclaimer** There are probably major fubars in this design. They are not intentional, its just that even though I have a college education, I am still an idiot at times. Just ask others about my math prowess. If you see something, call it out and offer a suggestion as to how to fix it. I don’t want everyone to nitpick it to death, but if I am doing something obviously wrong or game breaking, let me know. Value . . . Characteristics . . . Cost 13 . . . . . . STR . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 14 . . . . . . DEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 12 . . . . . . CON . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 10 . . . . . . BODY . . . . . . . . . . . . 0 18 . . . . . . INT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 10 . . . . . . EGO . . . . . . . . . . . . . 0 13 . . . . . . PRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 4 . . . . . . . COM . . . . . . . . . . . . -3 3 . . . . . . . PD (3) . . . . . . . . . . . 0 2 . . . . . . . ED (2) . . . . . . . . . . . 0 3 . . . . . . . SPD (2.4) . . . . . . . . 6 5 . . . . . . . REC (5) . . . . . . . . . . 0 20 . . . . . . END (24) . . . . . . . . -2 23 . . . . . . STUN (23) . . . . . . . 0 Running: 6” Swimming: 2” Jumping: Bleh, like he’s going to jump. Skill Sets Combat 1 WF: Scythe 4 +2 OCV w/scythe 6 +2 Lvl w/scythe 2 +1 OCV w/claws 6 +2 Lvl w/claws Languages 1x(4) Language: Common (Idiomatic, native accent (Galeel Shire), w/literacy) Knowledge/area knowledge/professional 2 KS: Poisons (15-) 1 KS: Planes (11-) 1 KS: Gates of Sigil (11-) 1 KS: Nehrull (11-) 3 AK: Sigil (15-) 3 PS: Brew Poisons (15-) General skills 3 Cryptography (15-) 3 Sleight of Hand (12-) 3 Streetwise (12-) 3 Healing (15-) 3 Riding (12-) x(1) Fam. w/Acting (8-) x(1) Fam. w/Climing (8-) x(1) Fam. w/Concealment (8-) x(1) Fam. w/Conversation (8-) x(1) Fam. w/Deduction (8-) x(1) Fam. w/AK: Telphanar (8-) x(1) Fam. w/Persuassion (8-) x(1) Fam. w/Shadowing (8-) x(1) Fam. w/Stealth (8-) x(1) Perk: Generous Employeer (8-) Given by another character that kept spreading the word. Perks/Talents/Misc. 3 Scholar 2 Contact: Kuli. Courier. 8-; useful resources 1 Well-off 106 Armor & Scythe of Nehrull Disadvantages Dependence: Armor, uncommon/extremely difficult to obtain; Damage 1d6; Weakness -3 to characteristics /20 min. (-25) Distinctive Features: Rotted, poxed and decaying skin. Easily concealable, features cause extreme reaction. (-15) Psychological: Irritable from total unrest. Very common/moderate. Change actions w/EGO roll +5 (-15) Social Limitation: Nehrull, Occassionally (8-); Major risk of injury & extreme inconvienience (-10) Reputation: Known as poisoner of Galeel Shire. Sometimes 8-; Extreme reputation, limited area (-5) Quirks (-5) 1 Carries Telphan stein (Galeel Shire motif) 2 Hates The Masquerade 3 unknown 4 unknown 5 unknown **Explanation of quirks. Leftover from previous edition when your package costs gave a -3 bonus. We used quirks to round them out. They were always a little quirk of the character, something unique but not game altering and developed during game play from bad dice rolls, etc. Now we just all have a 5 point quirk that we develop throughout the game.** Armor of Nehrull Armor: 8PD/8ED (24 pts)—Hardened vs. Penetrating x1 (+¼); Hardened vs. Armor Piercing x2 (+½); OIF: Very difficult to obtain (-1½); Mass: Normal (-1) Active Points: 42; Real Cost: 12 The armor itself is described as a full suit of dark green laquered plate armor. Very flat in hue and highlighted with small brass etchings and buckles. I purchased the armor without using the Real Armor disadvantage because I believe that the armor itself is an artifact. That type of armor does not need to be repaired or maintained. It just happens because its the gods will. The armor was made specifically for Typhus by Nehrull and as such also does not have Independent as a power disadvantage. Powers 1. The Blessing of Nehrull (+20 STR, +10 CON, +10 Body, +10 EGO, +1 SPD, +5 PD, +5 ED, +10 END, +10 Stun.) OIF: Armor—Very Difficult to obtain (-1½); Incantations: Invoke name of god (-¼); Visible: Armor appears to be wreathed in black flames (-¼); Charges: Continuing 1-min., 6/day (-0) Active Points: 115; Real Cost: 38 2. Eyes of Nehrull (Detect life, Darkvision.) OIF: Armor—Very Difficult to obtain (-1½) Active Points: 15; Real Cost: 6 3. The Dying Man’s Breath (Regeneration 1 Body/turn, can regrow limbs.) Reduced END: 0 (+½); Persistant (+½); OIF: Armor—Very Difficult to obtain (-1½); Extra time: 1 turn (-1¼); Self only (-½) Active Points: 30; Real Cost: 7; END Cost: 0 4. Nehrull’s Rage (1d6 HKA.) OIF: Armor—Very Difficult to obtain (-1½); Restrainable (-½) Active Points: 15; Real Cost: 5 5. Nehrull’s Gift of Life (Life support—Immortal, Safe environment—Intense cold, Eat once/week, Sleep 8 hours/week, Immune to all terrestrial poisons and chemical warfare agents, Immune to all terrestrial diseases and biowarfare agents.) OIF: Armor—Very Difficult to obtain (-1½); Visible: Black colored smoke appears to move inside the armor pulsing like a heart beat (-¼) Active Points: 29; Real Cost: 10 6. Defense of the Dead (10 points Power Defense.) OIF: Armor—Very Difficult to obtain (-1½) Active Points: 10; Real Cost: 4 7. Eyes of the Dead (10 points Flash Defense: 5 pts vs sight/sound.) OIF: Armor—Very Difficult to obtain (-1½) Active Points: 10; Real Cost: 4 8. Children of Nehrull (Change environment: Fills environment with bugs, flying and stinging insects, etc. 3 Hex diameter, -3 OCV while in area.) Reduced END: 0 END (+½); Personal Immunity (+¼); No Range (-½); Incatations (-¼); OIF: Armor—Very Difficult to obtain (-1½); Full phase (-½) Active Points: 35; Real Cost: 9; END Cost: 0 9. Wings of Pain (6" flight, no non-combat speed) Reduced END: 0 END (+½); Persistent (+½); OIF: Armor—Very Difficult to obtain (-1½); Incatations (-¼); Restrainable (-½); Extra time: Next phase/delayed phase (-1); No non-combat movement (-¼); Side effect: 2d6 HKA, no defense, whenever power is activated (-1) Active Points: 24; Real Cost: 4; END Cost: 0 Scythe of Nehrull Scythe; -1 OCV; 2d6 HKA; STR min: 16; 2 Handed-long Basically the scythe was just a scythe. Since there were no real rules I could find on them, I decided to base the weapon on a polearm. Basically large, unwieldly and heavy. The only difference was on the miniature there were faces in the wood. So now afer having played Typhus for a while, I have decided to make the scythe a bound demon of Nehrull that is awakening because of the souls I am now harvesting. New powers will manifest as the character spends points as the Demon becomes more and more aware. The only special effect is that for each soul harvested a face on the staff seems to moan silently. The burnout roll that may happen because of use is fixed by actually feeding the demon a soul before I can start to accumulate more. I also did not purchase Independent since this was given to Typhus from Nehrull. The only power right now is: Demonic Scream: Dispel (10d6) No range (-½); OAF: Scythe, extrememely difficult to obtain (-2); Incantation (-¼); Boostable charges: 6 (-½) Active points: 30; Real cost 7 Well there he is, in a nutshell. I probably am missing something but after formating this so that its legible I am not seeing it. Thanks for looking.

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Journal of Typhus As usual, I don't claim to be a writer, blah, blah, blah. I just enjoy writing my characters point of view. There are obvious errors, yada, yada, yada. Any comments are welcome. Enjoy! Stepping outside of the Black Bird I was immediately filled with ire as I noticed that the masses were still out celebrating The Masquerade. Deciding that the Children of Nehrull would be needed to ensure a quick route through the crowd I began my prayer. Half way through the prayer a loud exclamation of “Brother!” came from behind me, and a large hand clasped my back. Turning around slowly as I am rather unaccustomed to being, handled, I was surprised to see an obvious worshipper of Nehrull. His bulk and constant wet hacking, followed by a large globule of phlegm being spit out from behind a toothy grin was the immediate clue. Lord Nehrull is known to bestow great gifts onto his esteemed followers, and this individual was given a great blessing. His armor was dented from battle, pitted from acid, and rusty from use. The plate armor seemed to barely be able to restrain the massive girth of the man, and the lack of certain pieces led me to believe he had to remove some of his armor to continue wearing the rest. The parts he had removed were replaced with wrapped bandages. In fact, none of these bandages seemed to have ever been replaced. Just more had been heaped on top of the old ones. He was missing toes, obvious to me since he wore no boots. Fingers were missing as well, but the ones that remained firmly held a large hammer that now rested on his right shoulder. The hammer seemed to have the same “attention to detail” as his armor as I was sure that hair was still clinging to the hammer, held in place by dried smatterings of blood. Across his back a massive sword also was sheathed, but looked to have seen the same amount of use. In a broad and toothy grin, he introduced himself as Lord Pathos. The lord title I imagine was self given, and enforced with the hammer for those that may question his royalty. “A fine journey we are about to undertake.” He said between the removal of more phlegm. My quizzical look, even behind the armor was apparent to Pathos as his grin returned once again. “Our lord has sent me and others to help you on this quest. It should be a grand journey.” Admittedly I was disappointed somewhat, as I had hoped this was a task given to just me by my beneficent god. Wishing otherwise would be fruitful and perhaps unwise, as questioning ones god generally does not bode well for the follower. So others would come? Mayhap the journey would be very dangerous. The men that were splitting the gold that I had left on the table in the Black Bird might not be enough. Nehrul would know as much, so his help for me was sending others. “I must do some research, Lord Pathos. The gates that must be entered require specific keys, and where the gates themselves are located must be discerned if I am to complete this glorious task with haste.” Again Pathos returned to his smile and produced a pendant made of amber. “I have all the keys we will need.” “Very well then, I must retire and plan the journey. We will leave from here two bells before peak, don’t be late.” And with that said I finished my prayer and moved off towards my home to make the preparations, the Children of Nehrull opening a path through the unworthy. The night went slowly. Even more so than normal, or so it would seem. The time was spent placing more traps for unwanted visitors, reading up on creatures that inhabited the planes we were set to travel on. Learning their weaknesses, what poisons I could use against them. One of the first stops on the journey would be The Bastion of Last Hope, the city was a known location for smugglers and surgeons. Forged documents held no fascination with me, but the medical research and knowledge, if written down, would be something worth buying . . . or taking. The morning did come and I left my hovel early with the hopes of getting to the Black Bird quickly. The signs of The Masquerade still evident, sans dead bodies, showed everywhere. Thankfully the late night of drinking by most left the streets rather barren, just messy. Upon entering the Black Bird I saw that Lord Pathos was sitting in the chair that I am accustomed to sitting in. He must have sat there all night from the amount of spittle on the floor around him. Christoph and Marv were seated in their usual spots trying to avoid looking directly at Pathos. The elf was at the bar, drinking his foul brown coffee. The others were no where to be found, the only other persons in the room was the individual and her bodyguard Christoph was talking too. A small, frail looking woman carrying only a staff and a small bag. The body guard looked like your competent meat shield. Someone from the local guild hall I would imagine. Completely devoid of any real emotion, their only desire being that the person that pays them doesn’t die. With my arrival into the bar, everyone stood, Lord Pathos grinning and giving a rather hearty “Good morning, dear brother.” As one they filed outside. It would seem that introductions had already been made between Pathos and the others, which was fine by me as I had no intention of making any. Turning to Pathos, I said, “The portal we need to enter is in some shop. I trust you know which one?” A grin and quick nod proclaimed he did, and so the journey for the Black Banner of Fear began. Along the way to the shop I learned the female was named Lilith, and was in fact an elf of normal size, unlike the other freakishly tall one that seemed to be watching her with guarded eye. We eventually found the store, surprisingly open after the late night festivities. The gate was a door in the middle of the shop, conveniently located behind the counter of wares. Pathos moved to the counter and lifted the gate, the shop keeper began to protest but was easily shoved aside with one sweep of Pathos’ arm. Christoph immediately began to apologize and told the shop keeper that he was sorry for the intrusion and even paid the man. Shaking my head in disgust I moved through the portal into the town of Curst. The sudden change from Sigil to any plane is always somewhat disconcerting but welcome. Sigil is really a horrible city in all regards. The Cage as it is known by some seems to be an apt description to its feel. Curst itself seemed like any other city, and the fact that its flat, not like Sigil makes it seem novel. The gate itself on this end was a small clearing, bordered by four fancy pillars of white stone. Just outside the gate stood a large, well built man with a stern look to his face. He was obviously waiting for us because as he saw me, there was recognition by his face, and when Pathos finally came through he moved up and introduced himself as Crux. He was wearing dark green plate armor ringed in brass, and it too had seen its fair share of battle. His posture reminded me of Steelweaver, someone who flowed with a weapon like water flowed downstream, natural and unstoppable. Although Marv was equally unstoppable, he had no finesse or grace to his actions. Brute force and screaming into the face of his enemy was all Marv knew. His death would be a violent and bloody one. I can only hope that Nehrul will allow me to be present to witness it. As we all assembled I noticed a large . . . construct off to the side of the portal. It was hunkered over as if at rest, reminding me of a suit of armor with no body, just slumped there, unmoving. If it stood upright, I imagine that it would stand over seven feet tall. The legs themselves had one joint between the knee and the ankle, giving it an insect like look. The body, arms, and legs all were very thin. Just skin stretched tightly over bone and sinew. There did not appear to be any muscle, and in fact its left arm did not have a hand, just a long greenish colored metal blade that was easily three feet long. In its right arm was holding a large poleaxe of some design. The wind did nothing to move it, there was nothing on it to flap in the breeze, no clothing, nothing to give it away as anything other than a statue. Pathos following my gaze and said between hacking, “That’s Rhage. He was a devout follower of Nehrull until his death. Then he was blessed with a new body and purpose. He no longer spreads the faith with words, but instead with actions.” As I nodded understanding Crux yelled for Rhage to come over, and like an obedient hound obeying his masters call, Rhage seemed to rise a little and in a few steps managed to cover the distance to our party in a few quick strides. No sooner had it seemed to spring to life, then it stopped and returned to a dormant state. It was at this time that a group of the local guards moved up to our group and ordered us to move away from the portal. They did not like the fact that we were blocking the nonexistent traffic that flowed through its unused gates. Crux looked at the leader and said “You should mind your own business,” and slowly slid his large sword from its scabbard just a few inches. The blade was black as night, and a feeling of despair and dread seemed to emanate from it. The guards noticed the blade and immediately apologized and quickly turned to leave. Pathos again with a grin and stale breath leaned close and whispered to me, “That’s Bane, do not let that blade touch you!” The group I noticed started to feel uncomfortable around so many chosen of Nehrull. The proclamation by Crux that more were to meet us at The Bastion of Last Hope seemed to really upset them. A small grin on my part was quickly replaced with a grimace as I now had a full days walk ahead of me. The area near the Bastion was a desert and the journey was going to be very slow. Walking in sand is never easy, especially when encumbered with the Armor of Nehrull. Several stops had to be made so that I could rest. Coupled with the heat of the place I was in a particularly foul mood. The journey to The Bastion of Last Hope did in fact take most of the day. We arrived in the early evening to a large fortress, built to withstand a siege, with walls some 30 feet high. The similarities to Galeel Shire returned fleetingly, but these walls were not designed to be aesthetically pleasing and formidable as Galeel Shires had. The gate into the bastion was closed and when we approached a voice shouted down demanding to know our business. Before any of us could speak there was a scream, closely followed by a body being held out from the wall by its feet some 30 feet up. Then a loud, deep voice could easily be heard over the whimpering guard, “I told you they were coming, so why you not let them in?” The voice and its subsequent speech spoke volumes of limited intelligence. The body being held by one arm, told volumes of the creatures strength. The guard immediately stammered out a “Let them in!” and was quickly followed by the deeper voice yelling, “I’ll be right down.” The guard was pulled back inside and soon the gate opened up allowing us entrance into the Bastion. As we entered a large disfigured man appeared to shamble up. His back seeming to hunch higher then his head. In his right arm was a spear that appeared to have the same look as Pathos’ hammer, Blunt, as he called it. The figure if it could stand upright would be over six feet tall, but the deformity looked to keep him permanently bent over somewhat. Pathos introduced him as Arrum. The deep voice we heard earlier was in fact Arrum’s as he said that rooms had been made available for us and he gestured over his shoulder to the hostel. Seeing Marv look around he pointed to the nearby inn and said that drink and food was there. Marv and the other quickly moved away from us and entered into the inn. I decided to look through the local bazaar for any books entailing poisons or anything on herbs. After wandering through for several hours I came upon a book of poisons, written by a demon that used various toxins from planar creatures and herbs from their home planes. The owner wanted only eight gold for such a book, I would have paid double that. The knowledge contained that I saw skimming a few of its pages was vast and well documented with formulas. Purchasing a backpack from another vendor so that I could carry the immense tome was the only other purchase I made as I went back to the inn. Upon entering I noticed that my brothers in arms were seated together, Rhage was still standing in the courtyard where he stopped moving when we entered into the Bastion hours ago. The others were seated at a far away table seemed engrossed in getting drunk. Christoph was talking with some mousy looking individual at the bar while purchasing the next round for his table. The man seemed to be ignoring Christoph somewhat, but what ever it is that Christoph has, the man didn’t kill him over the inconvenience of being bothered. Sitting down with my brothers, I pulled out the tome and proceeded to read random pages to try and absorb the giddiness I was feeling at finding such a treasure. Pathos leaned over and read a few words, then loudly asked for me to talk about my worship at Galeel Shire. For a moment I looked at the stein that was sitting in front of me, now full of ale. A smile spread across my face and I replied, “That was a long time ago. A fitting . . . sacrifice . . . for our lord and god the shire was. But I do not like to boast.” Crux seemed to chuckle at that, “A fine sacrifice it was Typhus. A whole town, legends are made from that.” “I care not about legends, Crux. I care only about pleasing Nehrull. I will admit I wished I could have seen the effect of the plague on the surrounding army.” Pathos, as if on cue, coughed, hacked and then spit up a large volume of phlegm onto the floor. “I’ll bet it killed ‘em all!” As he raised his ale in toast. The others also raised their mugs in a typical inn salute. I just nodded thanks. Their praise was warranted, but not desired by me. As long as Nehrul was pleased, the chosen didn’t matter. A few minutes later, I poured out the remaining ale, and left to retire in my room with the book. During the night, I actually did manage to drift off to sleep. I actually dreamed for the first time in many years. I seemed to be walking forward, no longer hunched over as I am because of the weight of my armor. I seemed to be young again. But no amount of walking seemed to get me anywhere, I could not make headway in any direction. Then I noticed the green fog. It seemed to just appear, but it wasn’t sudden, like it has always been there and I was just now noticing it. Off in the distance I could see a rising storm of green and black. Insects of all shapes and sizes seemed to be flying in the storm but no matter how fast I moved, I got no closer. Suddenly the storm seemed to move towards me. In an instant the distance was no more and the storm raged around me, the bugs and insects biting and hitting me. Then in the cloud of debris a large pair of wings seemed to spread out, the body they had to be attached to was unseen. The seemed to stretch, as if trying to remember how to move, then with a great flap moved towards me and between the wings two outstretched claws appeared in the cloud and grabbed me. The black talons easily puncturing the armor as if it were made of parchment. Tearing my chest open I could see and feel my flesh being rended from my body, in pain I screamed, and awoke. Still sitting on a chair near the table where I was reading the book and breathing heavily, I realized that I was covered in sweat and blood. The outside air from the wind although warm seemed to cool my flesh and help me to calm down. It was then that I realized that I had not screamed but had heard a scream from outside in the courtyard of the Bastion. All that was visible was Rhage although he appeared to have turned a little bit since we had arrived. Lying by him on the ground appeared to be some log or some wrapped object of some sort, but nothing else. I decided to get up and clean off the blood and noticed that I was no longer covered in it, but the sweat did remain. Not understanding what happened I tried to lay down in the bed, but the armor made that task difficult and uncomfortable. The only witness to my dream was my scythe, the shifting faces in the wood silently screaming in agony. Eventually the morning came and I entered the inn where Marv and Christoph were already devouring a large breakfast of runny eggs and some sort of meat. Shaking my head and sitting down, I awaited Pathos, Crux and Arrum. They arrived as a group a few minutes after I sat down. Arrum was talking with the mousy looking man that Christoph was talking with the night before. Dressed in dark, baggy clothing with multiple daggers located around his body, he was introduced as Brill. He would be the individual that could guide us to the battlefield where the Banner of Fear was located. Most of the others heard this and learned of the mission. At least the first part, the recovery of the Banner. Arrum explained that he had worked with Brill before and he was a competent guide. As the introductions were finishing up a large lizard creature pulling a small wagon entered into the courtyard. The driver was hidden from view because the cowl was drawn down low. The right arm holding the reins to the lizard was not human. It looked like the arm of some insect, a large chitinous arm with hairs sticking out everywhere ending in a small claw. As the chosen looked up, Arrum’s deep voice greeted Toxas. With his name being spoken the head lifted up and its human looking left arm pulled the cowl back to reveal the head of a fly, with its two large bulbous eyes and antennae. Toxas nodded a greeting and turned the cart around awaiting to leave. Looking at Crux and Pathos I asked if we could leave as I was tired of the delay. Arrum said that there was one more and they had not arrived yet. Growling in frustration at this news I sat down on a bench awaiting our last member. Looking to Pathos, I asked, “Who?” Pathos shrugged, hacked, coughed, and spat. “Probably not a follower of Nehrul, we’re all here.” A few minutes later my men started to put on strips of leather over their eyes. The mousy looking man was helping them. The strips had a small slit cut into them to help against the wind blown sand in the desert. The sand, he explained was large, and very sharp. If exposed skin was left out in the blowing sand long enough, the flesh would be slowly shredded off. Unconsciously I rubbed my chest, remembering my dream. That’s when we saw our late comer. A small man wearing a hodge podge of ill fitting clothing approached our group, dragging a large, heavy sack behind him. “I’m here,” he proclaimed to everyone. No apologies, no excuses, just late. Rolling my eyes, I strained to stand and yelled out, “Lets go!” With that order, everyone left the Bastion out into the desert.

Re: This is why I play Fantasy Hero I really am horrible at explaining myself. But in essence, yes what you said is how I feel. I just think that a constant, adjective filled sentence, describing how you "poke him with a sword" can bog the game down, thus killing the mood. Games that get bogged down get boring real fast. Hero is a great game, but a big combat can take a while to complete. If I had to then describe my action for every attack that I take, while spewing forth some vile trash talk, the game would seriously slow down. Adding a colorful description of the attack, with a small quip every now and then, spices the game up and should be rewarded to a small degree. So in closing I believe you and I agree.

Re: Steve's Chat Tonight (Thursday, March 8) ::Chuckle:: Everytime I quit that darn game I end up getting sucked back in. (Sounds like a movie quote I know . . . . hmmm.)

Re: This is why I play Fantasy Hero Nice, first thing I thought was Feng Shui as well. As for tedious and boring CourtFool, anytime you "enforce" a constant rule, in this case a cinematic attack, then it becomes boring. If every attack is like that then it becomes tedious to the player and slows the game down. The constant decision to make it cinematic will kill the mood of the game. The occassional "I attack it with my sword" is fine and should not be discouraged, but the player doing something interactive with the scene helps to paint the picture for everyone at the session if they're listening. Von went a little overboard but the example is a great read.

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale That's not true. I am at my happiest when my god accepts the gift I give in his glorious name. Pain . . . seeing it . . . thats a perk! I totally forgot about the clay golem thingys. The Marvs were dealing with them, I had other plans. Oh, and Marv never got the shield down. We both tried, but a successful push of my STR and the scythe dropped it. The wanker still ported out though.

Re: This is why I play Fantasy Hero Thats where the GM is supposed to say, "Cool. Make a jump/acrobatics/tumble check, say DC 15. If you make it, I'll give you a +1 to hit, if you fail it, a -1 to attack. If you get a 5 or less, its an Attack of Opportunity." Allow the players to make a cinimatic attack means they are at least paying attention to the game and are trying to interact with it a little. I admit that too much of this will become tedious and in effect, boring. But allowing the player to interact within the game with some flair should be encouraged at all times. Now, if you come up with a crazy catch-phrase while doing so . . . that's just extra eps.