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Very welcome, and please keep me posted on how it goes for you.
I got a recommend to put this here rather than in Community Use Projects, so forgive me the double post. So, I was sorting through some things and I realized it's been a long time since I wrote this. It's my take on the Elluvia's Pit section of Castle Maure, something I wrote as a tribute to Rob Kuntz (who was, at one point, aware that this was written, though I'm not sure if it ever got to him). Anyway, this was written at the time I was transitioning to Pathfinder, so the rules used are a bit of a hybrid but a full conversion shouldn't be that big of a deal. I'm throwing this out here. The module is meant to be a meat grinder, it has not been play tested, and I hope you at least get some inspiration out of it. Whatever you want to do with it, go for it. I've had a gaming drought for a long while now, so consider this me gaming through other folks vicariously. Hand-drawn maps for old school feel. Main document: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-qFSw5XHUP7ZVVlNEgwSzhJSEk/view?usp=shari ng Maps: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-qFSw5XHUP7cUFrS1dZOEFZVUk/view?usp=shari ng https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-qFSw5XHUP7Sm84ZlRIVmw0enc/view?usp=shari ng https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-qFSw5XHUP7Y1pRV2E5TVpuSms/view?usp=shari ng
So, I was sorting through some things and I realized it's been a long time since I wrote this. It's my take on the Elluvia's Pit section of Castle Maure, something I wrote as a tribute to Rob Kuntz (who was, at one point, aware that this was written, though I'm not sure if it ever got to him). Anyway, this was written at the time I was transitioning to Pathfinder, so the rules used are a bit of a hybrid but a full conversion shouldn't be that big of a deal. I'm throwing this out here. The module is meant to be a meat grinder, it has not been play tested, and I hope you at least get some inspiration out of it. Whatever you want to do with it, go for it. I've had a gaming drought for a long while now, so consider this me gaming through other folks vicariously. Hand-drawn maps for old school feel. Main document: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-qFSw5XHUP7ZVVlNEgwSzhJSEk/view?usp=shari ng Maps: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-qFSw5XHUP7cUFrS1dZOEFZVUk/view?usp=shari ng https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-qFSw5XHUP7Sm84ZlRIVmw0enc/view?usp=shari ng https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-qFSw5XHUP7Y1pRV2E5TVpuSms/view?usp=shari ng
Very glad you approve! There's a more complete writeup on how it went on my blog (see user profile). Drop me a line, at montgomery.mullen at gmail, so's I can arrange to send you a magazine to sign. Regards,
I've done a lot of cooking. The menu, mundanely speaking, was as follows. I wanted to do a lot more food fabrication, but my timetable wasn't kind, so I ended up having to resort to more ...er, standard... fare. The theme of the dinner was Things Hidden. During the Devious Heads game (which I wrote up a rule set for, based on Bocce):
At table:
Second: Scallops and sole baked in parchment, on julienned squash, zucchini and carrot// white wine, shallot and tarragon reduction
Third: Smoked, tea-marinated cornish game hen quarters wrapped in green tea crepes// light port and spice reduction, finished with Earl Grey tea
Fourth: Sirloin cuts baked in puff pastry with caramelized fennel and shallots// Mushroom reduction, sauce poivrade
Fifth: chocolate beignets with vanilla-amaretto sauce, ginger-mascarpone cheesecake with walnut crust
Also, there was a vegetarian variant for each of the meat-bearing courses for the single vegetarian at the table. All of the sauces were vegetarian from the get-go. The vegetarian was playing the party cleric, and every time the Prince pointed out 'This dish is for HIM' the trepidation increased. The party did a lot of investigation about the Prince, and knew that he had a reputation for doing things like randomly pitching people off the Balcony of Expectoration (which I had as the official balcony for addressing the public used by the former rulers) and poisoning guests who annoyed him.
I desire a copy of Dungeon #131 with your autograph on it! "Prince of Redhand" ended up being a day-long dinner party event one weekend, which I spent a full day in the kitchen preparing for. I invited a number of NPC players in to fill up the table a bit, and although I took various liberties with various backgrounds to suit the campaign setting I use, it was definitively "Prince of Redhand." My players had a fantastic time, and my only regret was that nobody brought a camera. We even did costuming. I'll hold off my general glee at your other work for now. Contact me!
I found it inspiring that so many people are picking up their 1st edition DM's guide in honor of Gary's passing. I did the exact same thing, and it seems plain to me that even for those of us who never met him, he has been a powerful influence in our lives. I thanked him in my blog, and I'll thank him here again... he followed a dream of his own, and that led to me following mine.
Just wanted to let y'all know, the FIRST copy of 'Sins of the Saviors' arrived today, half-mangled, with an apologetic note from the post office. So ... it did get here, sort of.
Very much appreciated, thank you! 'Spires' got here just fine, by the way. -M
First and foremost, never had a problem with shipping before this... so I absolutely don't blame y'all. But this order never got to me: Pathfinder: Sins of the Saviors. I have a shipping confirmation in my email, but far as I can tell, it just ...never got here. Is it possible to get a resend? Must... get... fix...
Interesting replies here, folks. Thanks for indulging me. I was really curious if anyone had had a PC get a little weird about switching bodies and the like. The player is definitely using this event as a character development tool, and no doubt this will be the cause of some trepidation later on. As the player explained, the character no longer feels like love is possible, because how can somebody even know who she really is? The notion of a real marriage is equally impossible now, in her mind. The reasons for it all were many. Not only was it an attempt to abruptly become someone better suited to be a 'hero', but it is also an attempt to protect her family (who are just bakers, man), and an attempt to become a sort of flagship for the rest of the party. Not that the rest of the party is lacking in motivation, let me tell you. I've never had a group so full of IC ambitions and passions. Oh, for the previous poster: you called it, Spymaster. I actually folded that into Zhentarim Spy from the FR setting, as they were very much alike, and kept it to a 5 level PrC.
The events here were taken from Blackmaw Prison. Names have been changed to protect the... uh, never mind. Breathe in. Martel braced his wrists against the heavy shackles and flexed his powerful arms, pulling them apart until needles of pain came and went in tides through his shoulders and back, pulling them apart until his muscles finally gave out in exhaustion. Breathe out. Predictably, the chains held. This daily ritual rarely changed. Breathe in. Blood flowing through his arms, sensation returning in a dull ache, he was ready to defy exhaustion and start again when his sharp ears told him someone was coming downstairs. Martel had been in the sweltering heat of Blackmaw's solitary confinement for six years. He knew every pulse of the prison now, and he knew the habits of those others in solitary that he could hear or smell. This was not routine. Either someone was going up, or someone was getting put down. He sat perfectly still, tuned to listen, not noticing the sweat rolling down his face. The heat of the nearby Hellbore permeated this part of the prison, and it was meant to keep the dangerous creatures in solitary tired and subdued. Martel remembered when he'd first arrived, that he had thought this was the warden's attempt to introduce the Hells to the prisoner, and he remembered a light smile at the inadequacy of it. Whoever it was had a light step. The monks did, also, of course, but he knew their tread quite well these days. She snarled at them, told them they were idiots, but they naturally ignored her, and the door to the left of his tiny cell opened. Then, it shut, and the monks left. "Dammit," muttered the new prisoner. Martel took a half-step towards the wall, the heavy shackles on his ankles sliding across the warm stone floor. "Good day," he offered, cordially. There was a long pause. "Yeah, whatever," came the reply. "Is it always this hot down here?" "Quite," Martel responded. "So," said the other. "I guess I should ask what you are in for?" "You could," said Martel, now a bit amused at the matter. "And what about you?" There was a short chuff of laughter. More pacing. "I started a fight upstairs." "Ah, a temporary stay here, then." "It's a temporary stay in this prison." The woman's attitude suited Martel. He decided this warranted mentioning. "Well said," he offered. "My apologies for not introducing myself earlier; my name is Martel." There was another pause, albeit brief. Either jaded or very controlled or simply stupid, he thought. Naturally she would know who he was; everyone at Blackmaw did, and everyone in the region did. He doubted anyone knew everything he'd done, however. "I'm Angharad," came the reply. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I regret we could not meet under better circumstances." Indeed, he thought, here, even with the most ardent permission, I can do nothing to her. "....likewise," came the reply. "So, has anybody ever escaped from here?" Right to the point, this one. Martel smiled to himself. "No. But it is possible. I've attempted three times, and each time has been a little further." "Not bad," came the slightly skeptical response. "How did it go?" "Clearly, not successfully," he sighed in return. "Naturally they keep a very close watch on me now. But patience is the key." There was another long pause. He imagined she was assessing the stone box she was in, looking for any weakness in the heavy door, any possibility in the tiny ventilation shafts. He entertained himself with red thoughts of what he'd done to a monk the last time he'd broken free. There was a certain joy in the giving out of bone under extreme pressure. This memory chimed in quite nicely with the approach of more monks. "Well," he announced to the new neighbor. "It is time for my daily breath of fresh air. I'm sure we'll talk later." "Have fun," came the bland reply. He smiled again at her bravado, and he was still smiling when the monks opened his cell. They all stepped back involuntarily. "Shall we?" he asked them. Solitary confinement didn't bother Martel any more than the heat did. At night, he sat and remembered in the darkness, letting the boiling wrath fill him and dissipate, leaving behind only his diamond-hard resolution. His neighbors often had fitful dreams, likely brought on by the constant, feverish heat of the cells. The new one, Angharad, slept soundly. Ah, the sleep of conviction, he considered. I know it well. For himself, he rarely slept. Everything was a matter of discipline to him; he would not permit sleep from exhaustion until he consciously chose to allow it. When he did, it was a surrender to the tumult of nightmares that he reveled in these days. Once they'd been a torment, but he'd long since learned to take pleasure in the horrors he'd witnessed. Indeed, in the horrors he'd become. Guilt has lost its weight for me, he thought, and a faint spark of regret faded in and out of his mind. Without guilt, some things simply are not as poignant as they once were, and Martel regretted any loss of opportunity for indulgence in his life. He consoled himself with the thought of the wonderfully rebellious and ambitious Angharad, who would be back in with the general population the next day. He was often herded out for his fresh air when the other prisoners were on the lot, and he knew that she would look at him, and he would know her then. He wanted to look her in the eye and see, see if he saw her covered in gore and gasping, her own eyes broken mirrors of shock and terror and pain. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed something so personal. A faint rustling caught his attention, and he looked up at the ceiling. Carefully squirming through the ventilation shaft, something dark fell through, caught itself on silent wings and landed before him. Between dark fangs was a folded scrap of parchment. This made Martel smile very warmly indeed. He was not a prisoner here, only temporarily confined. And soon, very soon, he would be free again, and then he would hammer every single one of those who thought to be his jailers into gorgeous red-spattered ruin. And perhaps, then, it wouldn't be much longer at all that enjoyed something personal. Very personal. Angharad had mentioned that she had friends with her, also. Martel liked making friends.
Oh, no. This is from an RP standpoint alone... what is the psychological impact of not having the same body? Her new body is female, so there's no odd gender issues here. Her mind is quite the same as it was, but she has levels in a PrC that allows deep mental immersion in a different identity... which she more or less intends to use all the time now. But what I'm curious about is whether anyone has any experience in-game with the simple fact of spending your life in a body that wasn't yours to begin with, as a player developing their character or as a GM running the story. Has the issue ever been addressed in your games? Has it ever been a character conflict? What does it do to a person to be wearing a different body all the time?
This is a post out of curiosity. I've been running a campaign going on about 3 years or so. One of the party members (ostensibly the rogue) has a couple alternate identities. Lately, the party has come to a hard realization of what heroism can cost them, and other people, and the rogue had decided to fully and utterly immerse herself in her primary alt identity (who is much more jaded about these sorts of things).
How many of you have had this issue come up in their game? How did you handle it, and how do you treat the notion of swapping out your own body for something entirely different?
Wow, I missed a bit. Largely, I'm just posting here to show support for Paizo. Before Paizo, I did not subscribe to gaming magazines, and I did not buy pre-printed adventures, save for those meat-grinder exceptions (TOMB OF HORRORS) back in 1st edition days. I love the quality, I love the personality, and I love the community. This is why, when Dungeon/Dragon folded, I went right to Pathfinder, despite the excitingly chunky price tag.
Whether Paizo switches to 4.0 or 3.5 doesn't matter so much to me. Even if you don't have the savvy to convert one system to another, somebody on the 'net does, and probably has already done so. Play with what you have fun with. I understand why WotC is making many of the decisions it is making, but they haven't proven to me that it's worth my dime. Maybe they will. I'm not saying until I see what 4.0 looks like... maybe 4.5. Heaven knows we have enough of 3.5 to play with for another few years. Now, Paizo on the other hand? Keep it coming, lads. Keep the genre vital.
Corvus Corax (they're on iTunes! :P ) Wow, they are? I had no idea they were getting so popular. No music selected for Savage Tides, but I'm still overhauling Age of Worms at the moment.
Leviathan, by Legion (First track)
If I draw up a playlist, I'll post it here.
Just starting the second half of Hall of Harsh Reflections, rambling down to confront the re-named Zyrxog (sounded too gastrointestinal for me).
Oh, perhaps I wasn't clear. The second bit wasn't connected at all to the first. The party got a big head about killing the lizardfolk 'army', and decided to just be...well, up front about the whole thing.
Their attempt at impersonating the Faceless One did NOT go very well...(they went for arrogant and imperious, but I'd decided he was intensely polite and soft-spoken)... but due to some very high Bluff checks, they at least managed to avoid getting stomped on (by the Hextorites, in particular). However, after their attempt, the Hextorites assumed something was amiss... and started carefully nosing around to see what was going on.
I was curious to know how many DMs had their parties do very off-the-wall things during the course of this arc, or had them suddenly move in a direction or take a tactic that you very much didn't expect.
I definitely give them points for thinking outside of the box, and I'm very looking forward to what sort of original tacks they are going to take in future adventures.... perhaps an assassination scheme against Raknian?
What stories do the rest of you have like this?
Hi there Though a similar situation didn't happen in my game, I had made it clear early on that the garrison and the town 'government' were at odds.
Hi all I just wanted to say that, aside from the 'crowded' nature of 3FoE, I really didn't have much of a problem running it. Now, granted, I rewrote the story a bit in order to fit the AoW arc into the convoluted conspiracy arc I was already running, which no doubt helped a bit with giving the characters reason to be there. One seeming constant in gaming is that players will always do what you didn't prepare for them to do; I guess I got used to it.
Incidentally, my players had a blast in the maze. A large part of that was role-playing, though; they are experienced players, but they are playing inexperienced and rather brash characters. This led to some hilarious (and tense) situations where the party was split up. They were lucky, overall. |
