Sorry folks - spent the last half of 2017 in hospital or recuperating from operations, counting my missing body parts. PM me if you want the full sorry saga.
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"I just wanted to say - good luck. We're all counting on you" Sorry folks - spent the last half of 2017 in hospital or recuperating from operations, counting my missing body parts. PM me if you want the full sorry saga.
THEM: "Hi, we're a couple of parents with two kids under 10. We don't game much anymore, but we come along to the odd convention to roll some dice, have a laugh and teach the kids. We had such fun playing 'Dead Man's Debt' last year that we've signed up to your table again to play today! What are we playing?" ME: "Welcome. Good to see you again. The main themes of today's adventure are lesbianism and existentialism". Good scenario, good story, terrible choice for a con.
The bit with Zurnzal was utterly baffling to my group of newbie players, who had no idea who he was, who Grandmaster Torch was, why he should be interested in what they were doing, what Zurnzal wanted them to agree to, or whether they had the authority to agree to anything on behalf of the society. I don't think that missing out the whole episode would detract from the scenario for those players. Also, you will need to softball the final encounter with a group of 1st or 2nd level characters, and use the suboptimal tactics presented in the statblocks. Three priests each channelling negative energy to harm, thus throwing 3d6 damage per round at the PCs, will drop the entire party in one round on some unfortunate rolls.
yes, forgot her. She can go on your init
Lucia's arrow flies wide, but Corlan has a much truer aim. His shaft plunges through the breast of the bird. Instantly the bird rises several feet from the stump, revealing strange grey tendrils extending from its feet into the center of the tree stump. The tendrils begin to thrash and writhe, and the body of the bird is thrown free, like a discarded puppet. Then with a 'thwip' the tendrils are rapidly drawn back into the treestump. There is a strange gurgling roar, and a wide toothy mouth opens on the treestump. At the same time, several of the 'roots' that had been surrounding the stump begin to move and undulate, hauling themselves out of the group to reveal themselves as tentacles.
Just 'shiny gold object" so far.
If there is anyone interested in salvaging something from this game, please post so I know that you are interested.
Corlan too notices the curious state of the bird. The bird itself seems unperturbed by the scrutiny. It hasn't shifted from its position, but continues to stare in the group's direction, still holding the shiny, golden object in its beak.
Lucia can't see much of the shiny object in the creature's beak, but the bird itself catches her interest. It's eyes are cloudy and greyed over, its feathers dull and dusty, and its movement stiff and jerky.
Hello. Rollcall of those still interested please.
The path of amber-coloured bricks that the group is following continues its meander through the garden, but the group feel that they are making progress, as the masonry walls of the east wing draw nearer. Eventually the group emerge from the shadows of the trees into a cleared space before a large mahogany door set into the stone wall. A large wrought iron knocker cast in the shape of a scowling face hangs on the door. Before the door, someone appears to have cut down one of the trees in the garden, as there is a solitary tree stump. A blackbird perches on the tree stump, holding something shiny in its beak. It turns its head and looks at the group as they emerge from the trees.
There is a brief pause of inactivity after Corliss shouts his greeting, and then a pair of purple fungusy heads pop out of various holes in the ship's hull, spears at the ready, heads turning as they scan for the source of the shout. On spotting the advancing human, the creatures' eyes go wide, and they briefly touch, rhizomes squirming along their fingers, and small clouds of spores puffing up from their flesh. This could well be how they communicate. Both heads vanish, and then one of the creatures appears at the other side of the fungus 'bridge' linking the land to the wreck. It advances slowly, more wary than threatening, its spear level towards the Besmaran cleric.
With the group now properly dressed, there is the opportunity to take a look around. There is no sign of their hostess or the white rabbit. The sun somehow still shimes diffusely through the great glass dome of the garden, and it is impossible to tell exactly how much time has passed. The air is still heady with the scent of flowers, and the merest lingering hint of the exotic pipeweed, and there is the quiet buzz of insects and the intermittent lilt of birdsong. The stream continues to chuckle its way between the trees. To one side of the garden, there is the looming gothic ediface of the Chapel, while on the far side is the mysterious East Wing, while the known madness of the West Wing lies behind you.
The strange fungus that covers everything occasionally seems to twist and writhe, with ripples spreading across it, like the wind over a field of barley, as the group makes their way. The ground is soft and squelchy, and where the fungus has been broken away by the recent storm, it is already decomposing into a foul-smelling slimy mess. Making their way to the location of the shipwreck, the group eventually find it through the haze of spores. Apart from the crashing of the waves, there is still no sound of birds or other creatures. At first glance, the ruined sailing ship seems in relatively good condition. The ship has no colour to its lines, and is completely covered in a layer of soft grey mold. Even its sails appear fully intact, although what hands from the spars is not canvas, but sheets of thick, pale fungus. Several thick ropes of fungus connect the ship's upper deck to the island almost like crude rope bridges. As the group watches, two creatures emerge from the fungus forest slightly further down the coast. Bipedal, and moving with a strange, loping gate, they are about the size of human children. Their bodies are completely covered with, or perhaps made entirely of, a mixture of purple and grey fungus. They carry simple spears. As the group watches, they trip lightly over the fungus 'ropes' to the ship, and disappear inside.
That's a quota. Shall we continue?
The grasping tentacles were obviously not expecting this level of opposition. Their huge amorphous owner, still only vaguely visible underneath the waves, obviously decides that lunch really isn't worth the effort, and smartly withdraws its appendages, disappearing intot he murk in the depths of the lagoon. The group take the opportunity to scramble rapidly over the slippery rocks, hoping to make their way to the purple island before the tide turns and the waters swallow their path once more. === The waters are beginning to rise again as the group scramble ashore, exhausted, onto the strange purple island. The source of its odd colouring is immediately apparent - a thick layer of fibrous purple fungus that seems to coat everything. It sprouts from the ground wherever a patch of fertile soil can be found, hangs from the limbs of dead trees, and even grows in patches here and there on rocks, like lichen. The air is hazy with spores, and there is no sound of birds or other animals, perhaps for the first time since you were shipwrecked. Even the usual sussuration of the ocean is muffled, as though the fungus were absorbing the sound. Everything seems still and dead.
Who is still here?
The intoxicants, the wine, the delicious pastries, the music, the drumming, the sweet-scented smoke, the dancing, the horizontal dancing - all seem to have a seriously disorienting effect, even for Lucia who wasn't really partaking. Time seems to stop and you feel yourself falling, yet staying still, in a way curiously reminiscent of when you arrived at the Chateau. ================================= You are lying on a table. You cannot move, but you can feel the cold metal beneath you, and your head feels heavy, as though something is attached to it, like a heavy helm. Bright lights shine overhead, blurring your vision, and making you blink. You get the distinct impression of figures moving around the room where you are, but cannot turn your head to see. "Failure in the realization circuits. It's those new parts that came in from Aperture last week." "Damn, we're losing insertion. The paradox is too high. They're rejecting it." "Unusual - normally the orgy is the subjects' favourite part. Remember the group who tied up Isabel and Valerie and..." "Total insertion failure. We've lost the matrix." "Switching to backups. Rebooting matrix at timestamp plus 11. Reinsertion shortly." "Will they remember any of this?" "Unlikely. There may be some minor resets to defaults in the matrix though. That might confuse them a bit. Reinsertion in 3... 2... 1..." ================================= The sun is shining through the trees of the glade, and you have a curious sense of time having shifted, as though you have been asleep for too long. There is no sign of any of the Ambrevilles or any other inhabitants, but the members of the group appear to have fallen asleep after an elaborate game of dress-up which none of you can remember. Corlan and Celeste appear to have swapped clothes, while Lucia is now dressed in the scanty silks of a tavern dancing girl. Borden is naked except for a flowerpot on his head and a pair of riding boots. Mordan is still wearing his burnt clothing, but his hair is now long, bright green and tied in up a pair of very fetching bunches. Sister sits nearby, looking very much unchanged except for a sparkly collar and an eyebrow piercing. Looking around, you can see your normal clothing and gear scattered around the clearing, sometimes in places where you'd swear it wasn't when you looked there mere moments before.
Much more stable, thank you.
I am here. Who wants to continue?
It will not have escaped your notice that I am terrible at predictions. When I say 'everything is fine, we can continue now' is just when things fall apart in a more extreme way. I won't recount my woes here - suffice it to say I have been struggling to hold things together in my personal, professional and family life for various reasons. The upshot of this is that I have let you all down badly by not being able to keep up with the committment required to run a game. For this I can only apologize profoundly. I know the effort and dedication that many people put into crafting characters and keeping up with the game, and I am sorry that I have not been able to keep up my end. Now, here's the rub - the last thing I want to do at the moment is make things worse by saying 'yeah, it's all fine now' and then finding out that it's not, and going through this whole cycle again. So I want to wait a few weeks to make sure that I can live up to any committment I make. If, after that, we can salvage anything from the game, or anyone wants to continue in some form, then we can discuss - but those who want to walk away I understand perfectly - you don't need the frustration I've put you through. Apologies again.
It will not have escaped your notice that I am terrible at predictions. When I say 'everything is fine, we can continue now' is just when things fall apart in a more extreme way. I won't recount my woes here - suffice it to say I have been struggling to hold things together in my personal, professional and family life for various reasons. The upshot of this is that I have let you all down badly by not being able to keep up with the committment required to run a game. For this I can only apologize profoundly. I know the effort and dedication that many people put into crafting characters and keeping up with the game, and I am sorry that I have not been able to keep up my end. Now, here's the rub - the last thing I want to do at the moment is make things worse by saying 'yeah, it's all fine now' and then finding out that it's not, and going through this whole cycle again. So I want to wait a few weeks to make sure that I can live up to any committment I make. If, after that, we can salvage anything from the game, or anyone wants to continue in some form, then we can discuss - but those who want to walk away I understand perfectly - you don't need the frustration I've put you through. Apologies again.
It will not have escaped your notice that I am terrible at predictions. When I say 'everything is fine, we can continue now' is just when things fall apart in a more extreme way. I won't recount my woes here - suffice it to say I have been struggling to hold things together in my personal, professional and family life for various reasons. The upshot of this is that I have let you all down badly by not being able to keep up with the committment required to run a game. For this I can only apologize profoundly. I know the effort and dedication that many people put into crafting characters and keeping up with the game, and I am sorry that I have not been able to keep up my end. Now, here's the rub - the last thing I want to do at the moment is make things worse by saying 'yeah, it's all fine now' and then finding out that it's not, and going through this whole cycle again. So I want to wait a few weeks to make sure that I can live up to any committment I make. If, after that, we can salvage anything from the game, or anyone wants to continue in some form, then we can discuss - but those who want to walk away I understand perfectly - you don't need the frustration I've put you through. Apologies again.
It will not have escaped your notice that I am terrible at predictions. When I say 'everything is fine, we can continue now' is just when things fall apart in a more extreme way. I won't recount my woes here - suffice it to say I have been struggling to hold things together in my personal, professional and family life for various reasons. The upshot of this is that I have let you all down badly by not being able to keep up with the committment required to run a game. For this I can only apologize profoundly. I know the effort and dedication that many people put into crafting characters and keeping up with the game, and I am sorry that I have not been able to keep up my end. Now, here's the rub - the last thing I want to do at the moment is make things worse by saying 'yeah, it's all fine now' and then finding out that it's not, and going through this whole cycle again. So I want to wait a few weeks to make sure that I can live up to any committment I make. If, after that, we can salvage anything from the game, or anyone wants to continue in some form, then we can discuss - but those who want to walk away I understand perfectly - you don't need the frustration I've put you through. Apologies again.
PC dead. Want to write long post but not on ipad. New PC expected. Give 24 hrs please.
A stellar round of shooting drops one of the kobolds dead, its skull crushed by a slingstone from Roscoe, its corpse plummeting from the tree, while another is pinned against the trunk by Orono's shaft.
Draconic:
Others are coming - lead them north Javelins rain down amoung the group
but have little effect, other than to make their targets dodge and weave. Anyone go - new PC imminent
Anyone go! New PC expected imminently.
Sizara seems unfazed by the squirming tentacles, charging foward and swiping at one as it disappears beneath the waves. A great gout of reddish-green blood spurts from the wound, and the tentacle is withdrawn posthaste. Suddenly there is a great rush of water at the surface, and the owner of the tentacles, an octopus whose central body is the size of a carthorse, rises in the shallow water. Its large bloodshot eye stares furiously at what it considers its prey for putting up unexpected resistance, and its tentacles coil and recoil for another strike.
The drumming from the north ceases, and an ominous silence re-establishes itself over the glade. Various members of the group try to conceal themselves for a counter ambush, wary of the many traps and snares littered throughout the trees and bushes. Anxious seconds stretch into taut minutes, as there is no sign of activity.
One of the kobolds (4) pulls out a pair of heavy sticks, and begins to drum on the treetrunk, sending loud, deep booms echoing down the gorge. Meanwhile, its companions draw short javelins and hurling them at the nearest target.
The missiles mostly fall ineffectually, one being diverted by Henris's mystical armour.
The one remaining kobold keeps up its drumming, but is brought down in a hail of fire from Garrun, Lucian and Dai. As its body smashes to the ground, silence returns to the glade, except for the scared whinnying of the pony. But hollow drumming continues to echo from the north, as the other kobolds respond to the signal of their sentries. The corpses of four kobolds now decorate the clearing - two pinned to trees, one on the ground, and the fourth dangling obscenely from a branch after Nogrogomed's unorthodox attack. It takes the group a few moments to realize that Ichabod is nowhere to be seen.
Hamual and Corliss react to Karia's cry, the pirate priest invoking the fickle favour of Besmara, while the wizard summons a ball of telekinetic force and hurls it at one of the squirming tentacles. It misses, and a huge plume of seawater erupts with the force of the blow. The shockwave from the blow obviously disturbs the tentacles' owner, as the appendages are rapidly withdrawn beneath the water. As the ripples subside, a huge shape can be seen moving under the water, staying parallel to the causeway. Rotation
Karia thrusts the tip of her rapier into the rubbery flesh of the squirming tentacle, causing it to recoil and wave about in an agitated manner. Dark ichor flows from the wound, staining the water around it. The owner of the tentacle is obviously deeper in the water, still cloudy and opaque from the agitation of the recent storm. Two more tentacles sprout from the water, their tips squirming and searching for targets on the narrow causeway. Karia's sharp cry alerts the others, who turn to see the horrors arising from the waters.
Rotation
Roscoe's slingshot goes wide, the stone ricocheting through the branches to little effect. Henris attempts some more forceful magic, but working in three dimensions is unfamiliar, and his mental thrust goes wide.
As Finn moves forward into cover, Nogrogomed takes a swing at his opponent, caving in his skull and causing the corpse to tumble out of the tree. Then, he surprises even himself with a graceful leap to the ground. [ooc]Opalia delays[/i] The kobold beating two sticks together continues to do so, and the noise it makes is answered from further north, with the sound of one, then more sets of sticks echoing up from the gorge. The other kobold takes aim with last of its javelins, hurling it at Garrun
and striking what would have been a crucial blow had he not turned at the last minute. Havimg hurled the missile, the kobold turns and leaps further into the trees, and out of view. Rotation: Dai - can post
Houk's starknife spins through the air and gouges a long wound in the shoulder of one of the kobolds. It hisses and fills the air with curses in its sibilant tongue.
Rotation: Blaughter
She seems utterly mad to Lucia. So pretty normal for this place.
As is becoming something of a habit, Corlan gets naked. Moonchild, having divested herself of her clothing, but not her beads, begins to lead a strange, undulating, hypnotic dance, with lots of spinning, raising of arms, and making little butterfly movements with her fingers. She makes halfhearted attempts to get the others to join in, offering the pipeweed in turn to Lucia, Borden, Celeste, Sister and Mordan, and encouraging them to "remove any barriers between them and the universe, and face the cosmic vibe pure and reborn".
She leads the way through a little wicket gate to another clearing, where a large number of blankets, beanbags and cushions have been spread on the ground around a large, smoking hookah that appears to contain more of the intoxicating pipeweed. A nearby trestle table bears a number of jugs of iced wine, crystal glasses, and a large platter of exotic fruits and pastries.
The waves lap perilously close to the group's feet as they scramble over the rough rocks of the causeway, trying to cross to the next island before the the tide turns. The roar of the waves as they dash themselves against the rocks to the left contrasts with the relatively placid waters of the lagoon to the right. The footing is wet, and there are numerous hidden rockpools, but the way is relatively clear from weed, having been scoured clean multiple times per day as the tide washes over it. The first island in the chain is about 100 yards of from the mainland, and the group have made it halfway in a few minutes.
Karia turns, noticing a movement in the water in the lagoon out of the corner of her eye. A large purpley-blue tentacle, the thickness of a sailor's arm, and covered in suckers the size of a coin, is snaking out the water a few feet away, squirming towards her ankle.
With a number of hissed calls and responses, kobolds emerge from their hiding places in the trees around the clearing. It is obvious that they have been caught on the hop - they expected to be attacking with the benefit of surprise, against a group disoriented by their traps, but Houk's caution has prevented this. None the less, the scaley humanoids, armed with small javelins and spears, and clad in filthy scraps of leather armour, attempt to make the best of their situation.
Rotation: Blaughter - can post
The group's missile fire continues to be effective. While Lucian's and Garrun's shots are ineffective, Dai proves his worth yet again, with the young monk's first arrow striking one of the creatures in the chest, knocking it backwards off its branch, and leaving it dangling obscenely in the air, held by a short rope tied around its ankle. Rotation: Dai
It is approaching low tide now. It looks like the causeway will only ever be a few inches above the water.
The pipeweed appears to be rather intoxicating.
The deep draw on the pipeweed makes Borden feel like he is floating. It takes him a couple of moments to realize that he is actually floating. His feet drift a few inches above the ground. The shock makes him crash down to earth, but he is able to raise himself up again.
Meanwhile, Corlan and Celeste take it differently. Colours seem brighter, and they notice details that they normally wouldn't, but they also suddenly notice that it has been a long time since breakfast.
The rabbit does not look reassured at the comments of Sister and Lucia. "How can we not be here?" it asks, confused. "I mean, you can't 'not be' somewhere. Because you'd have to be there to not be there, if you see what I mean. You can't 'not be' in a garden. Because that's the same as not being everywhere else." It looks briefly panicked, then looks at Corlan. "I think I was meant to go to a tea party, now you mention it. But I think I got a bit sidetracked. Can I have another hit on that?" Meanwhile, Moonchild has finished weaving the flowers into Sister's hair, and turns to Lucia. "Chill out, my sister." she intones. "You're giving off bad vibes in the neighbourhood. Your aura is terribly damaged, and your chakras are all out alignment. Your energy isn't flowing. You need a good smoke and then one of your pretty boys here to give you some good loving." She begins to turn slowly on the spot, her arms outstretched, her eyes closed. "Trapped - that's the word you keep using. Some heavy vibes in that word, but true. The doors are closed when they should be open. We should be vibrating free, one with the cosmic consciousness but the doors are closed. Stephen closed them, but they didn't reopen as he planned. They must be opened so we can ascend to the universal spirit. The locks must be opened, otherwise we will just repeat the eternal cycle, so much that we don't even know that we are repeating it. Only the silver spheres can tell the time." She opens her eyes again. "We should all get naked, and free ourselves. Catherine did it - tried to ascend. But she's still in the throne room." She giggles to herself, as at some private joke. "Yeah, she's in the throne room. Hehe. But we must align with the universe, and these just hold us back. Let us expose ourselves to the cosmos!" She tugs at her own clothing, and begins to attempt to undress Corlan.
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