Cast:
Emmett the Astrologist
Calhidon Starstrider, Elf
Liu-Chang Xhan, warrior and duck wrangler
Bavon the butcher cleric
Sneed the Thug
Months pass after our previous adventure, but we each pick up on rumors of nefarious opportunities from our combined contacts.
We learn of the House of the Green Crane, containing some sort of magic key and treasure in the highest room of the tallest tower. It's in an ancient mansion in the Gold quarter belonging to a long-defunct family. Fallen into disrepair and haunted by ghosts.
Sneed taps his patron in the Gold district to learn what he can, and his contacts tell him that the bottom floor has been taken over by wastrels who use it as a gambling lounge and den of iniquity.
Emmett immediately starts thinking of plumbing. Bavon offers to help however he can.
We approach the mansion. It's a huge, sprawling complex.
Main entrance on the east. Dilapidated entrance on the west that appears collapsed and impassable.
We push our way inside. Smell of body odor, drugs, alcohol....sex and candy? Guttering candles and lamps. It's a large floor-plan broken up into smaller apartment/storefronts, similar to a flea market.
Food sellers, gambling stalls, flesh sellers, drugs. Arranged into two rows of ramshackle booths.
At the far ends are a pair of doors. Guards stationed on each side.
Sneed slithers over to booth near the end and strikes up a conversation with the merchant there. As he pretends to have a conversation, he makes a sign of recognition in the language of the Thieve's Cant, trying to see if either of the door guards responds. One of them nods, and the other opens the door and enters into the room beyond.
Sneed takes this as a sign and approaches the guard, lying that he has business with him. The guard is suspicious, but lets him in. Sneed gestures for the rest of the group to follow him.
We enter a medium-sized meeting room. Tattered finery. Several imposing men.
A man in silk finery sits on an elaborate chaise lounge, and introduces himself as "Jakol".
"Why are you here?'
Sneed - "Sir, when I entered, I was assailed with the most foul stench of filth. I have brought with me the best gong-farmer in town to inspect your 'waste situation'".
Emmett, the gong farmer and recent wizard regales Jakol with lots of plumbing jargon and contract violations, before offering to take a look upstairs for Jakol.
Jakol says that the upstairs is full of bloodthirsty ghosts, and every year or so, some dumb group of adventurers goes up there and never returns. He tells us, "Fine, go up there. But if you return, I want a full share of the spoils."
Sneed briefly considers forging some documents that would leave Jakol empty handed after all this, but decides against this course of action.
Bavon offers Jakol a blessing from the cow god in exchange for 1gp, which Jakol agrees to for some inexplicable reason.
We embark.
Twisting hallway ending in stairs leading up into the darkness. Musty odor. Slightly colder temperature. Is dark.
The elf lights a torch and draws his copper sword.
Emmett casts Akeem's Mystical Mask to see in the dark, but miscasts. Black fungus grows up all around us, covering the walls and flooring.
We enter a big room covered in dust. There's a rug in the middle of the room. Bavon pulls it, thinking it would make a great blanket. He uncovers a pit in the floor and bells dangling that would have alerted Jakol's thugs if we hadn't already gained permission to enter this place.
Calhidon kicks open a door into another room full of debris and masonry. Bavon digs through the rubble and pulls out a skull with a silver circlet around its head. Then a shadow pulls it back. Bavon says, "never mind, you can have it."
The shadowy claw shoots out and rakes at Bavon with its icy talons, savagely murdering the beef acolyte.
Sneed dashes in and drags the cow priest out of the room, toward safety.
Emmett casts sparks of magical energy into the shadows, but it fizzles out.
Liu-Chang lunges with his spear, jamming it into the shadow. The creature gives off a gibbering squeal. When he pulls the spear back, the silver circlet is dangling off of it. We hear a distant "quack".
Calhidon releases his falcon into the shadowy gap in the rubble. Seconds later, shadow entrails start flying everywhere, then everything goes still and silent. Calhidon sadly lowers his drawn bow.
Liu-Chang dumps a vial of holy water down Bavon's throat, praying to the gods for help, but the gods do not hear.
Bavon barely stabilizes from his mortal wound. He has black rake marks on his torso. Liu-Chang hands Bavon the circlet and says "I believe your god wanted you to have this." He puts it on and miraculously it isn't cursed.
We hang out for an hour to let Bavon recover from his ordeal. Then he places his holy silver symbol over his forehead and his wounds seal up.
Calhidon presses on and kicks in the next door.
Collapsed shelves. Broken glassware. Emmett finds a secret door that leads into a hidden chamber. We hear a sound like the intake of breath with lots of reverb. Dust coalesces in the center of the room, into the shape of a shadowy humanoid figure.
Sneed tries to sneak past, but the specter locks its white eyes directly on him.
Liu-Chang flourishes his spear fancy, but fails to hit.
Bavon casts Protection from Evil, but fails and almost throws his holy symbol in frustration.
The shadow floats directly at Liu-Chang with its claws and maw, but the duck monk ducks deftly.
Emmett fires his bow. Misses.
Calhidon unleashes his falcon, but it just passes through harmlessly. On seeing this, he casts Magic Shield on Bavon and fails.
Sneed dissolves into the shadows.
Bavon tries to Turn Undead. The shade draws back in horror and flees from the effigy of the Bull. It hisses and gibbers angrily from the corner, then disappears into what appears to be a wall. Calhidon inspects the area and finds a hidden door into a broken-open crawlspace.
We pursue and find a room with a floor that is canted at an angle. 6 small humanoid dust creatures emerge from the ceiling, floor and walls, and pounce on us.
Calhidon's falcon whiffs, and he fires a useless shortbow arrow.
Liu strides into the center and does a whirlwind maneuver.
Sneed slinks into the shadows behind cover.
Bavon beseeches his god to blow a strong wind into the room and disperse these creatures. An enormous wind rushes through, blasting the creatures free of dust, leaving only these emaciated, mummified angry monkey things full of teeth and eyes.
The creatures attack in a frenzy, landing hits on Calhidon and his falcon.
Emmett cuts himself like 1999 emo kid and and recovers his Magic Missile, casting it at the critter that attacked Bavon. The poor critter collapses into a puddle of hissing and popping acid.
Calhidon's falcon rips and rends while Calhidon fires his bow at a different critter. It continues to fight, despite being impaled by an arrow.
Liu swings his spear like a hockey stick, trying to slam one critter into the other.
Sneed pounces out of the shadows and back-stabs one of the uninjured critters, landing a solid hit. He immediately tries to take another attack, but gets too excited and overextends, but manages to regain his footing without stumbling.
Critters attack, hitting the falcon, the elf, and Liu-Chang.
The falcon and the elf retaliate. One of the critters drops, with an arrow through it.
Sneed flanks the critter attacking Emmett and stabs his dagger through its neck and up through its little skull.
Bavon heals Calhidon.
Critters attack, hitting the Elf and Liu. Liu drops.
Emmet casts a cloud of scintillating light shimmers, crashing into one of the critters, dropping it.
We finish off the remaining two dust imp.
Bavon rushes over to Liu and lays on hands, helping him almost fully recover. His god disapproves.
Showing posts with label Ig. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ig. Show all posts
December 17, 2018
Ben-Dagra session 1: Gold Pit of the Forgotten King
Presented as written by the party chronicler, the best thing to ever happen to my game group. Enjoy!
Dubious noblemen, so many bulls, and a mighty duck
--------------------------------------
We begin in a hookah lounge tucked away in the Weaver's District. The subterranean looms hummed below, tended by their monstrous Weavers.
This is our hangout. A spot to unwind and grab a drink to dull the memory of our daily toils. Recently some uppity nobleman showed up and started buying drinks for everyone. He's been doing this for weeks. Rubbing shoulders. Making friends. Assuring us that he too is a member of the middle class.
Tonight he finally revealed what he's up to. He gathered a bunch of us around, presumably the most trustworthy among us:
* a dwarven stonemason
* Felix the halfling trader
* Morton the gravedigger
* another gravedigger from a different guild
* a butcher who always carries half a side of beef with him
* an elven falconer
* a cheesemaker
* a squire training under a possibly fictitious knight
* a minstrel and a jester, sister and brother
* an animal trainer
* Elmer, the urchin
* a cutpurse
* a dwarven ratcatcher
* Liu Chang Zhan, rice farmer and Anatidaeomancer
* Sneed the beggar (and spider bite survivor)
The noble introduced himself as Darius Hamenoy, and rambled on about his impeccable pedigree while the rest of rolled our eyes, yawned, drank some more, and tended to our duck(s). Finally he got to the point. He apparently was sifting through his opulent library and opened up a dusty disused tome, and a parchment map fell out. It appeared to be a map to a fantastic lost treasure buried in a tomb of antiquity. He called it "The Gold Pit of the Forgotten King". Or was it The Forgotten Pit of the Golden King? Dammit. Maybe it was the Forgotten Gold of the King Pit. I don't know, I was drunk.
In any case, Lord Darius of Hamenoy proposed that we set off together to recover this treasure. In hindsight, we probably should have negotiated terms, but I think we were all eager to escape our boring jobs digging graves, begging, cutting purses, catching rats, etc, so we agreed immediately, and set off on the following morning.
We journeyed into the Scabrous Wastes, following the cursed ridge for half a day's journey, guided by Darius's map, finally arriving at an unremarkable spire of sandstone. It just looked like any other part of the arid terrain, aside from a small crack near the base. Upon further examination we discovered that this crack was large enough to squeeze through.
Our brave squire donned his helmet, demanded a torch from some other weak fool, and squeezed into the spire. The butcher raised up a holy symbol and followed, struggling to get his side of beef through the gap.
Inside the spire, it looked more like a well. It descended about 100 feet, and had a cobbled spiral staircase leading to the bottom. Sir Brave Squire led the way to the bottom, where we found a tall arch of stone, but the entryway was a solid wall of stone. Upon the wall was the image of a monstrous fanged bull, with a large hole where the mouth should have been.
Lord Darius informed us that the map says only noble blood will unbar the gate, so he stepped forward and put his arm in the hole. It worked! Well, sort of. Chalk this one up to user error. With his arm in the hole, the stone mechanism slides open, but unfortunately crushed and ripped Darius's arm off his body. He collapsed to the ground, screaming like a nobleman.
Our elven falconer fashioned a makeshift tourniquet while the minstrel sang a soothing tune to the doomed Darius. Miraculously, the bleeding stopped, so we continued on with no effort to retrieve the poor guy's severed arm.
Ahead of us we saw an ascending tunnel. Motifs of warrior kings and bulls were painted on the walls. Something glittered on the floor ahead. Maybe a dusty gem.
One of our halflings and one of our dwarves rushed toward it – a footrace for riches....or death in this case. The halfling grabbed the gem, but it turned out to be a trap mechanism. A giant stone block dropped out of the ceiling and crushed the poor little guy. Then the block began sliding down toward the rest of us, smearing halfling guts all the way down the ramp.
Sadly, the animal trainer and Elmer the Urchin got crushed, but the rest of us managed to dodge out of the way.
Heartlessly, we continued on, opening a door into a hallway leading left or right. The squire immediately charged to the left with his longsword raised, leading us to another room with a treasure chest and a suit of armor.
One of our dwarves (they all look the same, right?) lit the two torches on the wall, while the cutpurse stuck a dagger into the chest, prying the lid open. Glittering gems, pile of coins. Cutpurse pockets it all. The squire examined the armor rack. It was a fine set of scale mail. A copper sword in a scabbard. The squire looked it over thoroughly, suspicious of traps after whats-his-face just died in the last room, but didn't find any pressure plates or anything else out of place.
He donned the scale mail and handed the copper sword off to some other weakling. The butcher and Morton the gravedigger grabbed the torches off the wall and we headed off in the opposite direction.
What we found was an enormous room. The floor was deep, deep sand. Morton tried to kick some away to see if there was a stone floor beneath, but it was just sand and more sand. While he was busy staring at his feet, the rest of the party was transfixed by the giant statue of an enormous bull dominating the center of the room.
The cutpurse scampered up ahead to check out the bull while the rest of us cautiously followed.
Then, an enormous worm rose up from the sand! And devoured the cutpurse's face! With its scything jaws! Then it dove back into the sand.
The squire rushed in, toward the spot where the cutpurse disappeared under the sand. Another worm leapt out and bit the squire. Apparently this also triggered an impact trap in his cursed armor, releasing spring-loaded spikes into his body and killing him instantly. But we had no way of knowing that, and just assumed that these horrific worms were going to devour us all.
Just then, another worm leapt out at our butcher, trying to bite him, but instead it bit into his side of beef. It then tried to rip and tear at the meat, but the beef was too strong. Too tough. The poor worm ended up ripping its own face off. The butcher stood triumphant in his beef jerky armor.
Morton and the other gravedigger rushed at the worm that just killed the squire, and stunned it with their trusty gravedigging shovels. Then, Felix the trader ran over and stabbed it to death. It lets out a sad whining whimper, drowned out by the annoying celebratory cheer that Felix let out.
With one worm defeated, we made quick work of the other two that couldn't handle our battle superiority.
Felix inspected the massive stone bull statue. One of its eyes was an empty socket. The other glinted with the yellow sparkle of a gemstone. Felix pried it loose. A decent-sized topaz gem!
We explore some more, finding a short hallway that got thicker and thicker with cobwebs toward the end.
Liu Chang Zhan, rice farmer and Anatidaeomancer, stepped forward and set his duck on the ground, commanding it to head down the hall. The little mallard waddled away obediently, triggering multiple pressure plates and dart traps aimed for a normal humanoid's chest height. The whole group celebrated.
The butcher set the cobwebs on fire with his torch, revealing another doorway at the end of the hall. The door opened into a big room covered in webs. On the ground were several low figures, disfigured mounds covered with webbing.
Two of us went to investigate. The first one turned out to be a dead man. Really just a husk wearing ancient fine robes, clutching some kind of staff with a topaz gem. Felix appropriated said gem immediately.
Morton grabbed his gravedigger's shovel and dug into another one. This one also contained a dead person. However, it shortly erupted into a million awful spiders that devoured his face, then disperse. RIP Morton.
Liu Chang Zhan, the rice farmer, poked and prodded another of the web mounds, triggering a poison needle trap, but he miraculously managed to dodge it.
And then, giant spiders attacked! They were hiding on the ceiling the whole time. Also, two of them are on fire. Just so you know.
Sneed the spider bite survivor threw his flask of oil, trying to catch the uninflamed spider one on fire, but the flask misses.
Butcher attacked one of the flaming spiders with his meat cleaver and crushed its "skull". He had to use two hands to pull his cleaver loose, and the spider turned over and curled up.
The Ratcatcher gave another spider a solid thwack, and the other Gravedigger smashed in with his shovel.
The Ratcatcher and rice farmer both get bit badly by the spiders.
Felix stabbed with his shortsword, hacking the spider's mandibles clean off. The lone remaining spider succumbs to the flames engulfing it.
We explored the rest of the room and found:
* An altar
* A cask containing a golden statue of a bull
* Another corpse wearing leather armor
We headed back to the sand room and opened up the door to the south. I was a creepy twisting hallway. Every few feet there were ancient rotting tapestries hanging from the ceiling, getting in the way. We pick our way through and entered another large chamber.
In the center of the room was an altar. The eastern wall was completely covered with large tapestries. The cheesemaker sneaked over and peeked behind the curtain to see a large stone cabinet. He slipped behind the tapestry unnoticed and tried to quietly open it. A poison needle pricked his arm, but he still managed to get it open. He and started shoveling as much gold and silver into his pouch as possible, even though his arm felt like it was on fire from the poison coursing through his veins.
At the same moment, we heard a shrill, piercing scream. Maybe a whine. Or a shriek. But it got louder and louder until finally a monstrous shade ascended from the altar. The skull of a bull. Long waving shape that howled threateningly.
The Ratcatcher threw his net at it. To everyone's surprise, it did absolutely nothing.
The shade pointed a ghostly finger at the Ratcatcher.
Felix charged in screaming, leaping off the altar and plunging his shortsword into the shade. He just passed through harmlessly.
With zero effort at all, the shade killed the ratcatcher.
The gravedigger swung his shovel, but it didn't seem to do much.
Thinking fast, the Jester rummaged through his pack and found a vial of holy water. He tossed it at the shade, causing it to screech and wail. Then it "popped" and went screaming back into the void.
We found:
* An ancient scroll
* A goblet full of mummified organs
* Sacrificial tools inlaid with precious metals.
With the shade banished back to the void, we headed back to the big room with the bull statue. Two of us clambered onto the giant bull statue, and placed the topaz gems back into its eye sockets.
The sandy floor began swirling beneath our feet in a massive whirlpool, sucking us downward into the pit. Sneed barely managed to escape the vortex, which revealed a stepped terrace down to the bottom.
The bull statue was now sitting on a tall pedestal, the base of which had an archway revealing stairs leading down.
We descended into a chamber with spikes all over the floor. Long catwalks led to the other side of the room, but the ancient stone arches had crumbled in places, leaving gaps on the walkway.
We found some rope and tossed it across the gap, lodging it around a stone.
The Minstrel tried to cross, but fell down onto the spikes. Miraculously she managed to survive. She picked her way around, recovered the rope, and helped the rest of us cross the chamber.
We entered a great throne room. Arches flanked the aisle leading down toward a throne. On the throne sat the desiccated corpse of the Forgotten King.
As soon as we stepped into the room, an enormous black aurochs materialized behind the great throne, breathing smoke and flame, billowing out over the throne and the corpse of the king in a cloud of ash. Next thing we knew, the forgotten king was sitting astride the beast, charging toward us.
The Elven Falconer drew his longsword and ran forward, hoping to flank the beast. A gout of smoke and ash billowed out, the beast let out a mighty bellow.
The rest of us saw a vision of a thousand ghostly bulls rushing at us. The jester couldn’t escape. His soul was dragged away, leaving his lifeless body on the stone floor. Sneed was almost killed, but his soul barely pulled back from the brink.
The minstrel dove for cover behind a pillar and hit the beast with a thrown dagger.
Sneed swung his club at the bull's head, wildly missed, and ended up falling flat on his back, stunned.
Mortimer the Trapper stepped out and launched a rock with his sling, distracting the giant beast while the dwarven stonemason swung himself up onto the aurochs, positioning himself behind the Forgotton King. At the same time, the Elven falconer spun around and slashed at the aurochs, landing a vicious hit.
The forgotten king stood up and swung a giant axe at the elven falconer, landing a nearly mortal wound.
The minstrel punched. Sneed stood back up.
Mortimer fired another sling projectile, hitting the forgotten king in the forehead. The king shuddered, and for just a heartbeat the king and the bull of faded out of existence.
The Dwarven stonemason raised his hammer and smashed the king from behind. It crushed his skull. The aurochs faded out of existence, and the king's bones clattered to the floor, crumbling to dust.
With the king and his steed defeated, we looted the treasury.
Dubious noblemen, so many bulls, and a mighty duck
--------------------------------------
We begin in a hookah lounge tucked away in the Weaver's District. The subterranean looms hummed below, tended by their monstrous Weavers.
This is our hangout. A spot to unwind and grab a drink to dull the memory of our daily toils. Recently some uppity nobleman showed up and started buying drinks for everyone. He's been doing this for weeks. Rubbing shoulders. Making friends. Assuring us that he too is a member of the middle class.
Tonight he finally revealed what he's up to. He gathered a bunch of us around, presumably the most trustworthy among us:
* a dwarven stonemason
* Felix the halfling trader
* Morton the gravedigger
* another gravedigger from a different guild
* a butcher who always carries half a side of beef with him
* an elven falconer
* a cheesemaker
* a squire training under a possibly fictitious knight
* a minstrel and a jester, sister and brother
* an animal trainer
* Elmer, the urchin
* a cutpurse
* a dwarven ratcatcher
* Liu Chang Zhan, rice farmer and Anatidaeomancer
* Sneed the beggar (and spider bite survivor)
The noble introduced himself as Darius Hamenoy, and rambled on about his impeccable pedigree while the rest of rolled our eyes, yawned, drank some more, and tended to our duck(s). Finally he got to the point. He apparently was sifting through his opulent library and opened up a dusty disused tome, and a parchment map fell out. It appeared to be a map to a fantastic lost treasure buried in a tomb of antiquity. He called it "The Gold Pit of the Forgotten King". Or was it The Forgotten Pit of the Golden King? Dammit. Maybe it was the Forgotten Gold of the King Pit. I don't know, I was drunk.
In any case, Lord Darius of Hamenoy proposed that we set off together to recover this treasure. In hindsight, we probably should have negotiated terms, but I think we were all eager to escape our boring jobs digging graves, begging, cutting purses, catching rats, etc, so we agreed immediately, and set off on the following morning.
We journeyed into the Scabrous Wastes, following the cursed ridge for half a day's journey, guided by Darius's map, finally arriving at an unremarkable spire of sandstone. It just looked like any other part of the arid terrain, aside from a small crack near the base. Upon further examination we discovered that this crack was large enough to squeeze through.
Our brave squire donned his helmet, demanded a torch from some other weak fool, and squeezed into the spire. The butcher raised up a holy symbol and followed, struggling to get his side of beef through the gap.
Inside the spire, it looked more like a well. It descended about 100 feet, and had a cobbled spiral staircase leading to the bottom. Sir Brave Squire led the way to the bottom, where we found a tall arch of stone, but the entryway was a solid wall of stone. Upon the wall was the image of a monstrous fanged bull, with a large hole where the mouth should have been.
Lord Darius informed us that the map says only noble blood will unbar the gate, so he stepped forward and put his arm in the hole. It worked! Well, sort of. Chalk this one up to user error. With his arm in the hole, the stone mechanism slides open, but unfortunately crushed and ripped Darius's arm off his body. He collapsed to the ground, screaming like a nobleman.
Our elven falconer fashioned a makeshift tourniquet while the minstrel sang a soothing tune to the doomed Darius. Miraculously, the bleeding stopped, so we continued on with no effort to retrieve the poor guy's severed arm.
Ahead of us we saw an ascending tunnel. Motifs of warrior kings and bulls were painted on the walls. Something glittered on the floor ahead. Maybe a dusty gem.
One of our halflings and one of our dwarves rushed toward it – a footrace for riches....or death in this case. The halfling grabbed the gem, but it turned out to be a trap mechanism. A giant stone block dropped out of the ceiling and crushed the poor little guy. Then the block began sliding down toward the rest of us, smearing halfling guts all the way down the ramp.
Sadly, the animal trainer and Elmer the Urchin got crushed, but the rest of us managed to dodge out of the way.
Heartlessly, we continued on, opening a door into a hallway leading left or right. The squire immediately charged to the left with his longsword raised, leading us to another room with a treasure chest and a suit of armor.
One of our dwarves (they all look the same, right?) lit the two torches on the wall, while the cutpurse stuck a dagger into the chest, prying the lid open. Glittering gems, pile of coins. Cutpurse pockets it all. The squire examined the armor rack. It was a fine set of scale mail. A copper sword in a scabbard. The squire looked it over thoroughly, suspicious of traps after whats-his-face just died in the last room, but didn't find any pressure plates or anything else out of place.
He donned the scale mail and handed the copper sword off to some other weakling. The butcher and Morton the gravedigger grabbed the torches off the wall and we headed off in the opposite direction.
What we found was an enormous room. The floor was deep, deep sand. Morton tried to kick some away to see if there was a stone floor beneath, but it was just sand and more sand. While he was busy staring at his feet, the rest of the party was transfixed by the giant statue of an enormous bull dominating the center of the room.
The cutpurse scampered up ahead to check out the bull while the rest of us cautiously followed.
Then, an enormous worm rose up from the sand! And devoured the cutpurse's face! With its scything jaws! Then it dove back into the sand.
The squire rushed in, toward the spot where the cutpurse disappeared under the sand. Another worm leapt out and bit the squire. Apparently this also triggered an impact trap in his cursed armor, releasing spring-loaded spikes into his body and killing him instantly. But we had no way of knowing that, and just assumed that these horrific worms were going to devour us all.
Just then, another worm leapt out at our butcher, trying to bite him, but instead it bit into his side of beef. It then tried to rip and tear at the meat, but the beef was too strong. Too tough. The poor worm ended up ripping its own face off. The butcher stood triumphant in his beef jerky armor.
Morton and the other gravedigger rushed at the worm that just killed the squire, and stunned it with their trusty gravedigging shovels. Then, Felix the trader ran over and stabbed it to death. It lets out a sad whining whimper, drowned out by the annoying celebratory cheer that Felix let out.
With one worm defeated, we made quick work of the other two that couldn't handle our battle superiority.
Felix inspected the massive stone bull statue. One of its eyes was an empty socket. The other glinted with the yellow sparkle of a gemstone. Felix pried it loose. A decent-sized topaz gem!
We explore some more, finding a short hallway that got thicker and thicker with cobwebs toward the end.
Liu Chang Zhan, rice farmer and Anatidaeomancer, stepped forward and set his duck on the ground, commanding it to head down the hall. The little mallard waddled away obediently, triggering multiple pressure plates and dart traps aimed for a normal humanoid's chest height. The whole group celebrated.
The butcher set the cobwebs on fire with his torch, revealing another doorway at the end of the hall. The door opened into a big room covered in webs. On the ground were several low figures, disfigured mounds covered with webbing.
Two of us went to investigate. The first one turned out to be a dead man. Really just a husk wearing ancient fine robes, clutching some kind of staff with a topaz gem. Felix appropriated said gem immediately.
Morton grabbed his gravedigger's shovel and dug into another one. This one also contained a dead person. However, it shortly erupted into a million awful spiders that devoured his face, then disperse. RIP Morton.
Liu Chang Zhan, the rice farmer, poked and prodded another of the web mounds, triggering a poison needle trap, but he miraculously managed to dodge it.
And then, giant spiders attacked! They were hiding on the ceiling the whole time. Also, two of them are on fire. Just so you know.
Sneed the spider bite survivor threw his flask of oil, trying to catch the uninflamed spider one on fire, but the flask misses.
Butcher attacked one of the flaming spiders with his meat cleaver and crushed its "skull". He had to use two hands to pull his cleaver loose, and the spider turned over and curled up.
The Ratcatcher gave another spider a solid thwack, and the other Gravedigger smashed in with his shovel.
The Ratcatcher and rice farmer both get bit badly by the spiders.
Felix stabbed with his shortsword, hacking the spider's mandibles clean off. The lone remaining spider succumbs to the flames engulfing it.
We explored the rest of the room and found:
* An altar
* A cask containing a golden statue of a bull
* Another corpse wearing leather armor
We headed back to the sand room and opened up the door to the south. I was a creepy twisting hallway. Every few feet there were ancient rotting tapestries hanging from the ceiling, getting in the way. We pick our way through and entered another large chamber.
In the center of the room was an altar. The eastern wall was completely covered with large tapestries. The cheesemaker sneaked over and peeked behind the curtain to see a large stone cabinet. He slipped behind the tapestry unnoticed and tried to quietly open it. A poison needle pricked his arm, but he still managed to get it open. He and started shoveling as much gold and silver into his pouch as possible, even though his arm felt like it was on fire from the poison coursing through his veins.
At the same moment, we heard a shrill, piercing scream. Maybe a whine. Or a shriek. But it got louder and louder until finally a monstrous shade ascended from the altar. The skull of a bull. Long waving shape that howled threateningly.
The Ratcatcher threw his net at it. To everyone's surprise, it did absolutely nothing.
The shade pointed a ghostly finger at the Ratcatcher.
Felix charged in screaming, leaping off the altar and plunging his shortsword into the shade. He just passed through harmlessly.
With zero effort at all, the shade killed the ratcatcher.
The gravedigger swung his shovel, but it didn't seem to do much.
Thinking fast, the Jester rummaged through his pack and found a vial of holy water. He tossed it at the shade, causing it to screech and wail. Then it "popped" and went screaming back into the void.
We found:
* An ancient scroll
* A goblet full of mummified organs
* Sacrificial tools inlaid with precious metals.
With the shade banished back to the void, we headed back to the big room with the bull statue. Two of us clambered onto the giant bull statue, and placed the topaz gems back into its eye sockets.
The sandy floor began swirling beneath our feet in a massive whirlpool, sucking us downward into the pit. Sneed barely managed to escape the vortex, which revealed a stepped terrace down to the bottom.
The bull statue was now sitting on a tall pedestal, the base of which had an archway revealing stairs leading down.
We descended into a chamber with spikes all over the floor. Long catwalks led to the other side of the room, but the ancient stone arches had crumbled in places, leaving gaps on the walkway.
We found some rope and tossed it across the gap, lodging it around a stone.
The Minstrel tried to cross, but fell down onto the spikes. Miraculously she managed to survive. She picked her way around, recovered the rope, and helped the rest of us cross the chamber.
We entered a great throne room. Arches flanked the aisle leading down toward a throne. On the throne sat the desiccated corpse of the Forgotten King.
As soon as we stepped into the room, an enormous black aurochs materialized behind the great throne, breathing smoke and flame, billowing out over the throne and the corpse of the king in a cloud of ash. Next thing we knew, the forgotten king was sitting astride the beast, charging toward us.
The Elven Falconer drew his longsword and ran forward, hoping to flank the beast. A gout of smoke and ash billowed out, the beast let out a mighty bellow.
The rest of us saw a vision of a thousand ghostly bulls rushing at us. The jester couldn’t escape. His soul was dragged away, leaving his lifeless body on the stone floor. Sneed was almost killed, but his soul barely pulled back from the brink.
The minstrel dove for cover behind a pillar and hit the beast with a thrown dagger.
Sneed swung his club at the bull's head, wildly missed, and ended up falling flat on his back, stunned.
Mortimer the Trapper stepped out and launched a rock with his sling, distracting the giant beast while the dwarven stonemason swung himself up onto the aurochs, positioning himself behind the Forgotton King. At the same time, the Elven falconer spun around and slashed at the aurochs, landing a vicious hit.
The forgotten king stood up and swung a giant axe at the elven falconer, landing a nearly mortal wound.
The minstrel punched. Sneed stood back up.
Mortimer fired another sling projectile, hitting the forgotten king in the forehead. The king shuddered, and for just a heartbeat the king and the bull of faded out of existence.
The Dwarven stonemason raised his hammer and smashed the king from behind. It crushed his skull. The aurochs faded out of existence, and the king's bones clattered to the floor, crumbling to dust.
With the king and his steed defeated, we looted the treasury.
November 26, 2018
The City Beneath the Burning Stars
Oh hey. I started a new DCC campaign so I better start dumping setting content.
A city in the wastes. Ben-Dagra. Ruled by a sinister queen called the Hag or Beloved. Protected from the blistering stars by the Witch Wall, which covers the rich parts of the city. The Hag is protected by a legion of faceless armored guards called the Bronzemen. In the northeastward of the city is a huge pit that slowly cuts its way through the only safe sources of copper ore on the world. This is the lifeblood of the city, without which no one would bother to penetrate so far into the Waste. The Hag rules the city, but the day to day decisions in each district are made by the judges. Each renders justice as they see fit. As such the legal system of each district is vastly different from the next. Some solve disputes by ritual combat, others draconian rules that ordain every interaction, all backed by sprawling jails. All infants are taken to the Children’s Quarter when they reach seven days old, by force if necessary, to be raised by the Copper Matrons, a cadre of identical automatons. They remain for seven years then returned. This ensures the Hag will always have leverage over large swathes of Ben-Dagra. This has led to a cutthroat tattoo industry as the scions of noble families are indelibly marked to ensure their identity and return.
The Perfume Quarter
Children's Quarter
The District of Weavers
The District of Priests and Lepers
The Tumbledown Quarter
The Tanner’s District
The Perfume Quarter is a walled city-within-a-city populated by the lovers, concubines, and spouses of the citizens. It lies beneath the Witch Wall, and is safe from the depredations of the Hydra. It gets its name from the abundant spices and perfumes which fill the hanging gardens, rotundas, and pleasure dens.
The Children's Quarter is a collection of enormous squat orphanages connected by narrow alleyways. Chalk graffiti in rainbow hues adorn all flat surfaces. Order is maintained by the Copper Matrons, who care for and protect their charges with impenetrable metal bodies. Outside of designated meal and sleep periods the children move freely within the district, but are shadowed at all time by at least one Matron.
The District of Weavers is a riot of textures. Infinite variegated cottons, silks, and brocades. This is a center of trade for the city, bringing merchants of all types to ply their wares between fabric stalls. Turquoise Arbiters ensure that thieves and forgers face immediate final justice. Below the streets crypt-looms sing, tended by weaver morlocks.
The District of Priests and Lepers is home to the holiest and most destitute of the city. The Hag commands no worship but of her illustrious Self. She also recognizes that enforcement of this edict would empower any movement against her, so she has banned the practice of religion outside of this district. Shrines to a thousand small gods line the tight streets. Layers of shacks blot out nearly all of the sun and hellish stars leaving only the light of guttering votives to guide travelers.
The Tumbledown Quarter is one of the oldest parts of the city, and includes the original wall that surrounded it before the discovery of copper. Now it rings with the sound of pick and anvil as the myriad slave miners dig up the raw ore to be fashioned into tools by skilled hands. As the strip mine has expanded in pursuit of the twisting veins many buildings have canted as their foundations dip. Some have fallen into the pit entirely.
The Tanner’s District lies outside the city gates to keep the stench from overwhelming civilization. Planted beside a series of geysers, acidic pools, and mudflats, the tanners can render nearly any creature in usable material. The walls are porous but the eyes many.
A thousand Cults, of infinite panoply and ritual
A thousand bands of Robbers, plying dark alleys and sand wastes
Seven Justiciary, acting as sole law in their district. Upheld by a thousand scribes and functionaries.
A city in the wastes. Ben-Dagra. Ruled by a sinister queen called the Hag or Beloved. Protected from the blistering stars by the Witch Wall, which covers the rich parts of the city. The Hag is protected by a legion of faceless armored guards called the Bronzemen. In the northeastward of the city is a huge pit that slowly cuts its way through the only safe sources of copper ore on the world. This is the lifeblood of the city, without which no one would bother to penetrate so far into the Waste. The Hag rules the city, but the day to day decisions in each district are made by the judges. Each renders justice as they see fit. As such the legal system of each district is vastly different from the next. Some solve disputes by ritual combat, others draconian rules that ordain every interaction, all backed by sprawling jails. All infants are taken to the Children’s Quarter when they reach seven days old, by force if necessary, to be raised by the Copper Matrons, a cadre of identical automatons. They remain for seven years then returned. This ensures the Hag will always have leverage over large swathes of Ben-Dagra. This has led to a cutthroat tattoo industry as the scions of noble families are indelibly marked to ensure their identity and return.Districts
The Gold DistrictThe Perfume Quarter
Children's Quarter
The District of Weavers
The District of Priests and Lepers
The Tumbledown Quarter
The Tanner’s District
Districts at a Glance
The Gold District is where the richest and most successful of Ben-Dagra reside in opulent palaces and elegant spires. It lies beneath the Witch Wall and is inoculated against the depredations of the Hydra. The palace of the Hag is here, called the the Tower of One-Thousand Eyes.The Perfume Quarter is a walled city-within-a-city populated by the lovers, concubines, and spouses of the citizens. It lies beneath the Witch Wall, and is safe from the depredations of the Hydra. It gets its name from the abundant spices and perfumes which fill the hanging gardens, rotundas, and pleasure dens.
The Children's Quarter is a collection of enormous squat orphanages connected by narrow alleyways. Chalk graffiti in rainbow hues adorn all flat surfaces. Order is maintained by the Copper Matrons, who care for and protect their charges with impenetrable metal bodies. Outside of designated meal and sleep periods the children move freely within the district, but are shadowed at all time by at least one Matron.
The District of Weavers is a riot of textures. Infinite variegated cottons, silks, and brocades. This is a center of trade for the city, bringing merchants of all types to ply their wares between fabric stalls. Turquoise Arbiters ensure that thieves and forgers face immediate final justice. Below the streets crypt-looms sing, tended by weaver morlocks.
The District of Priests and Lepers is home to the holiest and most destitute of the city. The Hag commands no worship but of her illustrious Self. She also recognizes that enforcement of this edict would empower any movement against her, so she has banned the practice of religion outside of this district. Shrines to a thousand small gods line the tight streets. Layers of shacks blot out nearly all of the sun and hellish stars leaving only the light of guttering votives to guide travelers.
The Tumbledown Quarter is one of the oldest parts of the city, and includes the original wall that surrounded it before the discovery of copper. Now it rings with the sound of pick and anvil as the myriad slave miners dig up the raw ore to be fashioned into tools by skilled hands. As the strip mine has expanded in pursuit of the twisting veins many buildings have canted as their foundations dip. Some have fallen into the pit entirely.
The Tanner’s District lies outside the city gates to keep the stench from overwhelming civilization. Planted beside a series of geysers, acidic pools, and mudflats, the tanners can render nearly any creature in usable material. The walls are porous but the eyes many.
The Hydra
Each district, save the Gold District and Perfume Quarter, are haunted at night by a creature called the Hydra. The Hydra slays indiscriminately, choosing a different building each night and slaying all it finds within. No one knows what the beast looks like, all die before sharing what they have seen. The Bronzemen are quick to secure structures targeted by the HydraFactions
A thousand Noble Houses, of infinite splendor and hueA thousand Cults, of infinite panoply and ritual
A thousand bands of Robbers, plying dark alleys and sand wastes
Seven Justiciary, acting as sole law in their district. Upheld by a thousand scribes and functionaries.
March 05, 2015
A Question of Gall
A gall is an amazing thing. Formed by a plant when a parasitic wasp injects an irritant into it, they take a huge variety of forms. Check this out.
That lights me up. So many gameable possibilities! I smell a series coming on!
The walls between the planes are not so much thick as antithetical to one another. Like oil and water, or oil and fire, they either remain unmixed or destroy each other on contact. Extraplanar intrusions will be inexorably drawn back to their origins, like a balloon held underwater. However, there are beings in other worlds who take great interest in the possibilities of other planes. The devils, aggressive thoughtforms, and rogue engrams of the outer spheres puncture normal space and inject it with pieces of themselves to open the way for future conquest. Succubi, incubi, dark rituals, each acts to change the world to match elsewhere, or encyst a piece of one plane in another. The enclave devil is not a singular type of creature, but a multitude of beings. Each plane develops its own more or less stable shape, although most are humanoid. They are vectors for alien planes, driven to scratch out galleries and tunnels that have both mystical significance and act to thin the walls between worlds. Enclave devils also directly scratch at the barrier between the planes, creating breaches through which other extraplanar beings can move freely.
Enclave Devil Forms
Enclave Devil: Init +4; Atk extraplanar claws +0 melee (1d6, ignores non-magical armor); AC 13; HD 1d8; MV 30’; Act 1d20; SP may scratch through any barrier, 1’x1’x1’ per hour; SV Fort +0, Ref +3, Will +1; AL based on home plane.
Planar Ram Forms
Planar Ram: Init +0; Atk limbs+0 melee (1d6), portal explosion +2 ranged (1d8); AC 15; HD 3d8; MV 20’; Act 1d20; SP Planar radiation (characters within 5’ take 1 damage per round due to the otherworldly energies it radiates); SV Fort +2, Ref -1, Will +2; AL based on home plane.
A wizard inflicted with witchgalls can tap into the increased brain mass to better cast their spells. They add +1 to their spell rolls and saving throws to resist the effects of spells cast against them while inflicted with a witchgall. However, the galls also leave them more open to the warping effects of magic, add +1 to corruption rolls. These effects are cumulative for each witchgall inflicted upon the character, to a maximum of +5. To determine if a witchgall breaks open secretly roll a d10 for each when a PC casts a spell. On a 1 the egg has hatched. The PC must make a DC17 Fort save. If they succeed they take 1d6 damage as the insect burrows out of the skull. If they fail they take 1d10 damage and permanently lose 1d3 Intelligence as the insect chews its way deeper into the brain.
Effects of having a witchfly wrapped around your medulla
1-5: nothing
6: You have a compulsion to seek out and consume worms and vermin.
7: You no longer blink. You no longer need to blink.
8: You now sleep, 1: 4 hours a day, 2: 12 hour a day.
9: You gain 2d6 inches in height over the next two weeks as your pituitary goes into overdrive.
10: Whatever god the witchflies belong whispers to you in the dark hours. Making demands. It has plans, so many plans.
That lights me up. So many gameable possibilities! I smell a series coming on!
The Enclave Devil
Enclave Devil Forms
- Worm-centaur
- Scuttling, emaciated thing
- Bulbous glutton
- Cobweb thing, composed of diaphanous webs
- Eyes and teeth whirling in the air
- Red-skinned humanoid. Blank, eggshell face
- Humanoid with exoskeleton like an insect
- Shadow person
- A muscular man with the head of a star-nosed mole
- A floating array of glittering sigils
Enclave Devil: Init +4; Atk extraplanar claws +0 melee (1d6, ignores non-magical armor); AC 13; HD 1d8; MV 30’; Act 1d20; SP may scratch through any barrier, 1’x1’x1’ per hour; SV Fort +0, Ref +3, Will +1; AL based on home plane.
The Planar Ram
An enclave devil is comparatively weak, and on its home plane it lacks the ability to cross to another. Aggressive dimensions make use of a carrier organisms to insert enclave devils and other creatures into other planes. Planar rams usually break through in areas of intense magical energy, such as dungeons or wizard towers. They have also been known to break through deep underground, allowing enclave devils to cut extraplanar catacombs undisturbed for years before the inevitable breach. The results are rarely positive for the plane they have invaded.- Enormous, almost immobile, square humanoid, body dominated by wooden door
- Streamlined, aquatic shape, enormous maw opens portal
- Skeletal figure with an exposed ribcage opens to the beyond
- A thin ring of stretched skin and bone
- Floating multidimensional shape bends space around it to create a portal
- A mystical circle slowly rotates on a flat surface, it’s mandala-like designs spin when it open a portal within itself
- Bulbuous, faintly pulsing organ attached to nearly surfaces with ropey sinew. A large valve acts as a portal
- Tall, thin humanoid made of cracked earth. Hollow. Inverts pieces of its anatomy to reveal a portal within
- An animate bronze statue, many-limbed. It carries on its back a portal ring
- A floating tear in space, causing the air around it to howl
Planar Ram: Init +0; Atk limbs+0 melee (1d6), portal explosion +2 ranged (1d8); AC 15; HD 3d8; MV 20’; Act 1d20; SP Planar radiation (characters within 5’ take 1 damage per round due to the otherworldly energies it radiates); SV Fort +2, Ref -1, Will +2; AL based on home plane.
Witchflies
A witchfly is a fist-sized insect that looks like a cross between a wasp and a stick insect. Found in temperate swamps, they go through a relatively normal life cycle that undergoes major changes when intelligent humanoids are closeby. A female will seek out a sleeping humanoid and deposit 1d6 eggs under the scalp. Each egg release a substance which forms a growth on the skull called a witchgall. The hair falls out from around the spot, then a hollow, round knob of bone grows. The space fills with elastic brain tissue, making it the perfect home for the creatures. The witchfly eggs feed on the neural impulses and cerebrospinal fluid, growing faster and larger in the presence of magic. Once an egg is large enough the larval witchflies will burrow free, either breaking out of the skull and flittering away, an agonizing process at best, or eat its way deeper into the brain.A wizard inflicted with witchgalls can tap into the increased brain mass to better cast their spells. They add +1 to their spell rolls and saving throws to resist the effects of spells cast against them while inflicted with a witchgall. However, the galls also leave them more open to the warping effects of magic, add +1 to corruption rolls. These effects are cumulative for each witchgall inflicted upon the character, to a maximum of +5. To determine if a witchgall breaks open secretly roll a d10 for each when a PC casts a spell. On a 1 the egg has hatched. The PC must make a DC17 Fort save. If they succeed they take 1d6 damage as the insect burrows out of the skull. If they fail they take 1d10 damage and permanently lose 1d3 Intelligence as the insect chews its way deeper into the brain.
Effects of having a witchfly wrapped around your medulla
1-5: nothing
6: You have a compulsion to seek out and consume worms and vermin.
7: You no longer blink. You no longer need to blink.
8: You now sleep, 1: 4 hours a day, 2: 12 hour a day.
9: You gain 2d6 inches in height over the next two weeks as your pituitary goes into overdrive.
10: Whatever god the witchflies belong whispers to you in the dark hours. Making demands. It has plans, so many plans.
January 06, 2015
Waspgonnes
Did you miss me? The last year has been a whirlwind, but I start a new job soon which should give me a little more breathing space for things like running (and playing!) more games. Never mind Secret Santicore, which I did lots of layout work for. There is so much good stuff this year, it's going to blow your mind! It just has to work its way through a final editing pass and then it will be out in the wild, raiding campsites and eating tourists. And now, a little new content for the Jungles of And, west of Ig and full of nasty critters.
The jungles of And burst with life. Fifty creatures vie for every inch. The glittering scale wing, air grouper, and howling gribbon all compete to survive among the green canyons. Buzzing in the dappled light are dozens of wasps in variegated hues and all sizes.
The jungles of And burst with life. Fifty creatures vie for every inch. The glittering scale wing, air grouper, and howling gribbon all compete to survive among the green canyons. Buzzing in the dappled light are dozens of wasps in variegated hues and all sizes.
The folk of And turn this riot to their own ends. Local hunters carry long-barreled air-powered fusils they call waspgonnes. Each is a work of art, hand-tooled from tropical hardwood, sinew, and polished chitin. Waspgonnes use a small bellows to fire a large wasp at their target. The weapon is pressurized, a glass jar containing a wasp is loaded into the firing chamber of the waspgonne, which draws the insect into the firing chamber, and the weapon is ready to fire whenever the trigger is squeezed. Activating the weapon accelerates the wasp along the barrel at whatever the hunter is aiming at. The flight and ensuing impact enrages the insect, which furiously bites and stings whatever it strikes. The wasp is not expected to survive, but the damage it inflicts is usually sufficient to dispatch a target. A waspgonne is also almost silent, only a quiet hiss announces its use.
Hunters raise the insects in mesh cages beside their lodges. Before an excursion the cages are flooded with woodsmoke allowing the wasps to be collected. Note: only females have stingers. Their wings are clipped and then they are sealed into individual glass jars. The hunters carry these jars in belts and bandoliers.
 |
| a waspgonne |
A Waspgonne has the range of a longbow and must be wielded with both hands. The bellows takes 5 minutes to fill, and is good for 10 shots once charged. Wasp jars save at -2 due to their fragility, should the occasion arise.
Almost all waspgonnes are one-off pieces built by hunters, but they may be talked into selling an older piece for 60 gp. Wasps cost 5 gp, but are rarely for sale.
Wasp Ammunition
Biter (1d6)
Stinger (1d6 + poison, CON save or 1d4 damage for 1d6 rounds)
Redeater (1d8)
Pheremone packet (0, lasts 3 rounds, +5 to-hit with Libertines)
Libertine (1d4)
February 27, 2013
Prismatic Wings
I desperately want a better word for butterfly than butterfly to use in this post. Butterfly is like the limpest name for a critter that, at least in my campaign, is big and scary and cast spells willy-nilly. Lepidopterans sounds too formal, and using foreign words just seems cheap. However, the Russian babochka is far and away the coolest sounding word for them I could find.The wizards of Ig don't wear pointy hats. Wizards wear robes and capes and turbans and queer haberdashery of iridescent moth-wing This is because butterflies and moths are natural spell casters not out of any knowledge of their own, but due to the markings on their wings. The pattern of colorful scales on their wings form mandalas, sigils, and the true names of all things. A solitary normal butterfly or moth is harmless, but a sufficiently large swarm (rabble) resonates magically, so many wings brushing together builds up an esoteric charge that can be released at any shock to the group. The spells released scale in proportion to the amount of number of individuals in the rabble. A wizard wearing specially fashioned robes, cloaks, or masks will find his mystical abilities heightened by the wings.
Moth-wing GearAny gear crafted from butterflies or moths is lumped together in the catch-all of "moth-wing." This type of clothing can only be crafted by a wizard, and at no small cost. However, a wizard wearing a full suit gains a +3 to resist offensive spells and +3 to all spell checks as well as providing several mystical abilities. Moth-wing provides no bonus to AC.
Moth-wing Hat: Often taking the form of a turban bedecked in scintillating wings or simply the decapitated head of a giant moth hollowed out and made into a cap. A moth-wing hat provides a +1 bonus to all spell checks and saves. The wearer can also be used to cast Speak with Insects 2/day Cost: 400gp and 5 HD in butterflies/moths
Moth-wing Cloak: Usually made from giant wings sewn in a fashionably gaudy cape. A moth-wing hat provides a +1 bonus to all spell checks and saves. The wearer can also cast Color spray 1/day. Cost: 600 gp and 10 HD in butterflies/mothsMoth-wing Robes: A moth-wing hat provides a +1 bonus to all spell checks and saves. The wearer can also cast Featherfall 2/day. Cost: 900 gp and 15 HD in butterflies/moths
Butterfly Rabble: Init +4; Atk none (but see SP); AC 9; HD 1d8+; MV fly 40'; Act special; SP random spells, half damage from non-area attacks; SV Fort +0, Ref +6, Will +0; AL C.For DCC the rabble can cast a random spell of a level up to the number of HD they have. It casts this spell with a spell check bonus equal to half its current HP. For mores standardized systems, consider it to have spell slots equal to a magic user of equal HD, with the spell taking up as many slots as possible.
February 07, 2013
Carapace Crafting
Spurred to action by Anarchycore and challenged by the inestimable Ian Johnson for what you see below. I present two systems for crafting weapons and armor from giant insects!The Boring Way
Kill a number of HD of bugs of the appropriate armor class, spend some gold on other necessary materials like straps and hooks, and spend days equal to the AC bonus crafting and BOOM armor. This is boring. Don’t use it.
| Armor Type | Type of Insect | Cost (gp) | HD required |
| Leather | AC10+ | 10 | 3 |
| Studded Leather | AC11+ | 23 | 4 |
| Hide | AC12+ | 15 | 5 |
| Scale Mail | AC13+ | 40 | 6 |
| Chainmail | AC14+ | 75 | 7 |
| Banded Mail | AC15+ | 125 | 8 |
| Half-Plate | AC16+ | 225 | 9 |
| Full-Plate | AC17+ | 600 | 10 |
| Shield | AC12+ | 5 | 2 |
The Epic Risky Way
Each slain giant insect can be carved down to its raw material (chitin) for crafting. Each carcass breaks down into chitin plates equal to its HD-1d6 (the Beat to Death by Ruffians Tax). A certain amount of chitin is required for each type of item, but extra plates may be included in the attempt. Each extra plate increases the chance of success by 5%. All materials are consumed whether the attempt is successful or not.
| Armor Type | % to Craft | Materials required |
| Leather | 40 | 4 |
| Studded Leather | 35 | 5 |
| Hide | 30 | 6 |
| Scale Mail | 25 | 7 |
| Chainmail | 20 | 8 |
| Banded Mail | 15 | 9 |
| Half-Plate | 10 | 12 |
| Full-Plate | 5 | 15 |
| Shield | 50 | 2 |
| Weapon Type | % to Craft | Materials required |
| Battleaxe | 20 | 5 |
| Blackjack | 85 | 2 |
| Blowgun | 85 | 2 |
| Club | 80 | 3 |
| Dagger | 70 | 2 |
| Flail | 60 | 3 |
| Handaxe | 60 | 2 |
| Javelin | 50 | 3 |
| Lance | 40 | 4 |
| Longbow | 40 | 5 |
| Longsword | 50 | 5 |
| Mace | 75 | 3 |
| Polearm | 20 | 4 |
| Shortbow | 50 | 5 |
| Short sword | 70 | 3 |
| Spear | 45 | 3 |
| Staff | 70 | 2 |
| Two-handed sword | 20 | 5 |
| Warhammer | 45 | 5 |
| Dart | 80 | 1 (per 6) |
| Arrow | 75 | 1 (per 4) |
Edge-cases of Supreme Insight
If the crafter rolls 99~100 some quirk of the crafting process or the material has created an item of incredible quality. Weapons counts as +1 to hit and damage. Armor counts as one rank better.
December 21, 2012
Insect Mounts
On the plains of Ig horses are a rarity. The predation from giant insects have all but driven large mammals from the plains. The few left are much smaller than horses found on other worlds and tend to stick to forests and other areas where they’re awarded some cover against attacks from the sky. The only group to make much use of them are the elves. Humanity makes use of an array of giant vermin as their mode of transport. Instead of warhorses the warriors of Ig ride destrier beetles, ravagers crash titanic stag beetles through enemy lines, and sorcerers ride flying trilobites over the mundane people below.
The destrier beetle is related to the giant stag, but a more mellow temperament and smaller frame was bred into the line centuries ago. They lack the tremendous horns and mandibles of their wilder kin, but make far better mounts. They range in size from that of a pony to larger than an ox. Destrier beetles bred for war have exaggerated thorax plates which mounted warriors use as added protection.
Destrier Beetle: Init +0; Atk mandibles +1 melee (1d4); AC 15; HD 3d8; MV 50’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +2, Ref +0, Will -2; AL N.
The warg spider is an enormous eight-legged beast. These are incredibly dangerous and expensive creatures, but they are a terror in battle. They make huge leaps in combat. It takes years to correctly train such a beast and great care must be taken to ensure that their hunting instincts are always kept in check. While not eating many owners cap their fangs with dull scabbards to discourage attacking passers by. Like a hunting falcon, a warg spider must never be allowed to go hungry. Being the size of a large horse this is very costly.
Warg Spider: Init +3; Atk fangs +3 melee (2d8); AC 14; HD 3d6; MV 60’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +4, Ref +2, Will -2; AL N.
The giant stag and rhinoceros beetle share similar niches. Both make formidable armored juggernauts, but rhino beetles are nearly double the size of stags. Stag beetles use their scything jaws to crush human foes and wrestle other insects to the ground. A rhino beetle can destroy a wall in a single charge, and the especially large specimens carry howdahs full of warriors. Both breeds are driven to a frenzy by playing a beetle drum, an instrument that emulates the breeding call of a female.
Giant Stag Beetle: Init +2; Atk mandibles +4 melee (3d6); AC 15; HD 3d8; MV 30’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +2, Ref +0, Will -2; AL N.
Giant Rhinoceros Beetle: Init -2; Atk horns +3 melee (2d4+2); AC 17; HD 3d10; MV 30’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +2, Ref +0, Will -2; AL N.
Flying trilobites must be summoned and controlled by a wizard, but are second to none as a ranged weapons platforms. The smaller specimens also make excellent aerial scouts. Their thick carapace also makes them almost impenetrable to normal weapons. The creature’s greatest weakness is low speed and agility.
Giant Aerial Trilobite: Init -3; Atk slam +3 melee (2d4); AC 17; HD 5d8; MV 20’ fly 120’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +3, Ref +1, Will -2; AL N.
Flitting delicately across the sky, the warmoth is a lepidopteran large enough to carry a man aloft. They are the steeds of the powerful, bred to match the colors of the rich and noble. Warmoths are difficult mounts to control. Like their tiny kin, warmoth flight is erratic. Mounted warriors are all but tied to their steeds, and drive them forward with flaming thuribles.
Warmoth: Init +3; Atk buffet +3 melee (2d6); AC 17; HD 3d8; MV 30’ fly 150’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +1, Ref +3, Will -2; AL N.
The destrier beetle is related to the giant stag, but a more mellow temperament and smaller frame was bred into the line centuries ago. They lack the tremendous horns and mandibles of their wilder kin, but make far better mounts. They range in size from that of a pony to larger than an ox. Destrier beetles bred for war have exaggerated thorax plates which mounted warriors use as added protection.
Destrier Beetle: Init +0; Atk mandibles +1 melee (1d4); AC 15; HD 3d8; MV 50’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +2, Ref +0, Will -2; AL N.
The warg spider is an enormous eight-legged beast. These are incredibly dangerous and expensive creatures, but they are a terror in battle. They make huge leaps in combat. It takes years to correctly train such a beast and great care must be taken to ensure that their hunting instincts are always kept in check. While not eating many owners cap their fangs with dull scabbards to discourage attacking passers by. Like a hunting falcon, a warg spider must never be allowed to go hungry. Being the size of a large horse this is very costly.Warg Spider: Init +3; Atk fangs +3 melee (2d8); AC 14; HD 3d6; MV 60’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +4, Ref +2, Will -2; AL N.
The giant stag and rhinoceros beetle share similar niches. Both make formidable armored juggernauts, but rhino beetles are nearly double the size of stags. Stag beetles use their scything jaws to crush human foes and wrestle other insects to the ground. A rhino beetle can destroy a wall in a single charge, and the especially large specimens carry howdahs full of warriors. Both breeds are driven to a frenzy by playing a beetle drum, an instrument that emulates the breeding call of a female.Giant Stag Beetle: Init +2; Atk mandibles +4 melee (3d6); AC 15; HD 3d8; MV 30’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +2, Ref +0, Will -2; AL N.
Giant Rhinoceros Beetle: Init -2; Atk horns +3 melee (2d4+2); AC 17; HD 3d10; MV 30’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +2, Ref +0, Will -2; AL N.
Flying trilobites must be summoned and controlled by a wizard, but are second to none as a ranged weapons platforms. The smaller specimens also make excellent aerial scouts. Their thick carapace also makes them almost impenetrable to normal weapons. The creature’s greatest weakness is low speed and agility.Giant Aerial Trilobite: Init -3; Atk slam +3 melee (2d4); AC 17; HD 5d8; MV 20’ fly 120’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +3, Ref +1, Will -2; AL N.
Flitting delicately across the sky, the warmoth is a lepidopteran large enough to carry a man aloft. They are the steeds of the powerful, bred to match the colors of the rich and noble. Warmoths are difficult mounts to control. Like their tiny kin, warmoth flight is erratic. Mounted warriors are all but tied to their steeds, and drive them forward with flaming thuribles.Warmoth: Init +3; Atk buffet +3 melee (2d6); AC 17; HD 3d8; MV 30’ fly 150’; Act 1d20; SV Fort +1, Ref +3, Will -2; AL N.
No one rides mantids. Mantids will eff you up.
December 07, 2012
The Swamps of And
West of Ig are the swamps of And. The numberless rivers of this land are fed by the heavy snow melt of the Dark Mountains and hundreds of tiny springs. To the west, sitting on a plateau above the surrounds land is the cloud forest of Lom. The entire region is saturated. To the north high moors are interspersed by peat bogs. The farther south one travels the more the swampier the ground becomes. At the coast the land breaks up into a jumbled mess of islets and deltas.
And is lightly populated in comparison to Ig. The land is too rough and the local fauna too vicious to support much civilization. Andish villages are usually ramshackle affairs built on bamboo piles to keep them above water during the rainy season. Others are floating communities that drift across shallow lakes, peopled by fishermen and reed-weavers. The common dietary staples are fish and rice, which grows well in the dank climate. The people of And breed dogs of all sizes. Huge war dogs, scent hounds, terriers in endless variations of coat and color. Every town cultivates a favorite breed. Most are highly prized outside of And. And is also riddled with ruins, forgotten cities, and waterlogged catacombs. The back-country is almost entirely unexplored.
Things in And
Jungle cults
Swamp monsters
The Cloud Cities of Lom
Apocalypse moths
Xerterax the Unliving
Children turned into catfish
Psychic vultures
Things in And
Jungle cults
Swamp monsters
The Cloud Cities of Lom
Apocalypse moths
Xerterax the Unliving
Children turned into catfish
Psychic vultures
November 03, 2012
Ik'tik'buboe, the Drowned Sultan
Woo! That's a long absence! So sorry for the long dry spell here on Carapace King, but between a bunch of truly murderous projects at work and having a human child I've had trouble rubbing enough brain cells together to get content written down. I can't promise I'll get back to the regularity I was before, but I've got a few things to post soon. Now on with the gamestuff!
Ig is a land untouched by gods. Perhaps they existed once, but died and were consumed by the earth, for the ground itself holds power. The power that only clerics can call down in other worlds are available to anyone of inscrutable means should they hunt out places mystically attuned. It lies within standing stones and untouched forest glens and natural springs.
There are still ineffable powers at work in the world, but they take forms malevolent and alien. Humans call them the Seventy-Seven Lords of Decay. Often these "lords" are nothing more than a name to curse when some minor misfortune occurs, but others do exist. Falling somewhere between demon, spirit, and gremlin, each has panoply over an aspect of the world with which to vex and war with civilization.
Ik'tik'buboe is one of these beings. It goes by many names across Ig, some call it the Drowned Sultan, others the Serene Face of the Deep. It exists to bring about perpetual deluge across the land. The crab, the salt marsh, and the hurricane are its domain. Where there is flood, it is there. Where there is sea, it is there. Where there is rain, it is there. Anyone on the edge of death in these conditions may be approached by an avatar of Ik'tik'buboe in the shape of an enormous crab with seven serene, human faces. It offers survival and power to those who swear fealty. These vassals must tend to the ocean's crabs and sow saltwater wherever they go. They are compelled to vandalize bridges, dams, and to never go out with head covered in a rainstorm.
Invoke Patron check results:
12-13: Ik'tik'buboe is barely deigns to listen to its supplicant. A acrid salt spray blasts into the caster's face for 3 rounds, -5 to hit.
14-17: The caster finds himself teleported to the nearest body of water large enough to hold him. Upside down.
18-19: Sudden cloudburst dumps a briny acidic rain 100' around the caster. It deals 1d3 damage per turn for 1d6 turns to anyone except the caster.
20-23: Hundreds of tiny crabs boil up from the earth. Each has a single serene human face. They cover the body of the caster and grant +5 AC.
24-27: The caster's dominant arm becomes a huge thorny crab claw, causing him to drop whatever he was carrying. It is +2 to hit and deals 1d8 damage.
28-29: Everyone within 30', except the caster, fall into the ground with a splash. It acts like water, and anyone who falls immediately begins drowning and descends 5 feet per turn. After 3 turns anyone affected finds themselves entombed in solid earth.
30-31: A bronze idol of Ik'tik'buboe appears out of nowhere and fights for the caster. It remains for 1d4+CL rounds. Bronze Idol: Atk 2 claws (1d8+2); AC 16; HD 5d10; MV 20'; SV Fort +10, Ref +2, Will +6; AL E.
32+: 1d4+1 bronze idols appear. See above.
Patron Taint
1: The caster's skin grows thick and calloused, as well as faintly mottled. If this is rolled a second time his skin grows even thicker and deeply mottled. On the third time the caster's skin becomes distinct plates made of crab shell.
2: The caster is compelled to salt the nearest well, and must pass a DC 15 Will save to resist the command. The second time this is rolled the caster must pass a DC 20 Will save. After the third he must make the roll for every well he comes across.
3: The caster's face grows pale and rigid, slurring his speech. The face becomes progressively less mobile with repeated rolls. The third time the roll occurs the caster's face becomes a porcelain mask, rendering him mute.
4: a rain shower breaks out around the caster, lasting for 1d6 turns and making all actions have a -2 modifier.
5: When casting a spell any water in containers up to a gallon turn salty. The second time this is rolled it will affect amounts up to 5 gallons, and on the third time anything smaller than a pond.
6: A brood of tiny crabs pour out of the wounds of everyone within 20 feet.
Ig is a land untouched by gods. Perhaps they existed once, but died and were consumed by the earth, for the ground itself holds power. The power that only clerics can call down in other worlds are available to anyone of inscrutable means should they hunt out places mystically attuned. It lies within standing stones and untouched forest glens and natural springs.
There are still ineffable powers at work in the world, but they take forms malevolent and alien. Humans call them the Seventy-Seven Lords of Decay. Often these "lords" are nothing more than a name to curse when some minor misfortune occurs, but others do exist. Falling somewhere between demon, spirit, and gremlin, each has panoply over an aspect of the world with which to vex and war with civilization.
Invoke Patron check results:
12-13: Ik'tik'buboe is barely deigns to listen to its supplicant. A acrid salt spray blasts into the caster's face for 3 rounds, -5 to hit.
14-17: The caster finds himself teleported to the nearest body of water large enough to hold him. Upside down.
18-19: Sudden cloudburst dumps a briny acidic rain 100' around the caster. It deals 1d3 damage per turn for 1d6 turns to anyone except the caster.
20-23: Hundreds of tiny crabs boil up from the earth. Each has a single serene human face. They cover the body of the caster and grant +5 AC.
24-27: The caster's dominant arm becomes a huge thorny crab claw, causing him to drop whatever he was carrying. It is +2 to hit and deals 1d8 damage.
28-29: Everyone within 30', except the caster, fall into the ground with a splash. It acts like water, and anyone who falls immediately begins drowning and descends 5 feet per turn. After 3 turns anyone affected finds themselves entombed in solid earth.
30-31: A bronze idol of Ik'tik'buboe appears out of nowhere and fights for the caster. It remains for 1d4+CL rounds. Bronze Idol: Atk 2 claws (1d8+2); AC 16; HD 5d10; MV 20'; SV Fort +10, Ref +2, Will +6; AL E.
32+: 1d4+1 bronze idols appear. See above.
Patron Taint
1: The caster's skin grows thick and calloused, as well as faintly mottled. If this is rolled a second time his skin grows even thicker and deeply mottled. On the third time the caster's skin becomes distinct plates made of crab shell.
2: The caster is compelled to salt the nearest well, and must pass a DC 15 Will save to resist the command. The second time this is rolled the caster must pass a DC 20 Will save. After the third he must make the roll for every well he comes across.
3: The caster's face grows pale and rigid, slurring his speech. The face becomes progressively less mobile with repeated rolls. The third time the roll occurs the caster's face becomes a porcelain mask, rendering him mute.
4: a rain shower breaks out around the caster, lasting for 1d6 turns and making all actions have a -2 modifier.
5: When casting a spell any water in containers up to a gallon turn salty. The second time this is rolled it will affect amounts up to 5 gallons, and on the third time anything smaller than a pond.
6: A brood of tiny crabs pour out of the wounds of everyone within 20 feet.
July 06, 2012
Fixing Things
This week I had a smaller turnout. We didn't have any Hangout players, so that experiment will have to wait till later. I added some new house rules to the campaign, Jack and Matt's slot-based inventory system and a tightening up the temporal wiggle room I'd given the players. Partly due to the (one-way) design of my early adventures and partly due to my bleeding heart weaksauce DMing I'd start every session where the last ended, with whomever's character who happened to be in attendance and damn the torpedoes to explaining how or why characters could pop in and out of existence within a dungeon. It made it easier to ensure the game kept going when we were short a few players, but it's made increasingly less sense as the campaign has continued. That will no longer be the case. It's expected that the party will have to make it out of whatever death trap they've been tramping through if they want to add characters to the mix. If they can't make it back to town or base camp or whatever than they won't be able to add new characters. Obvious in retrospect, and almost guaranteed to make some players complain, but I'm willing to do the bookkeeping.
So on with what happened last session! The party finished exploring the the reservoir dungeon, scoring some loot in a side tunnel they found at the water level. Waiting for them at the top of the spiral staircase in the basement was the witch, surrounded by her cats. In repayment for discovering what was causing the village to sink, the giant crab statue had been raising the water table with sea water, she offered to translate the octagonal books they'd found. One was a historical text, the other a manual of giant insects, and the last a manual for the machinery in the reservoir. With the book, the witch, and a craftsman from Snim they were able to repair the machinery and activate it, draining the reservoir and pumping the water away from the town.Then they all went to a bar and the dwarf got eaten trying to wrestle a boa constrictor in a pit fight.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)