Alien

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26 posts. Alias of quibblemuch.


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Welp, had the first fatality of my Strange Aeons campaign last night. Fortunately, it was only a PC's cohort. Still, they'd grown to love the stuffy, pedantic cleric of Nethys who had followed them through so many dark adventures, always ready with a healing spell or to correct someone's pronunciation... Na Alu, you will be missed. Turns out, two proto-shoggoths was one too many for your delicate all-to-human flesh...

*dances happy prospector dance, but with, like, tentacles*


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Sumab#!+% shot me in the face.


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DungeonmasterCal wrote:
It's...complicated. And uses Geometry, the worst mathematics class I ever took.

Tell me about it... you ever try to bisect a squamous angle using only tentacles and an Escher-edge?

*mind quietly blows*


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Everyone in Briarstone.

Except Winter Klaczka and four amnesiac former employees of Count Hasterton Lowls IV.

The Tatterman dropped half the party, stable but dreaming fevered dreams and surely dying soon. The remaining PCs couldn't beat his regeneration. Aided by Winter, they rolled their unconscious companions from the open second-story wall, whence late the oneirogens had spewed their yellow fog. The fall was rough, but not enough to kill the unconscious characters.

The bhole stirred again, its nightmares flaring as Hastur's dream-creature stepped into the waking world. As the Tatterman ripped the flesh from what remained of the Apostles in Orpiment, the earth heaved. The fragile remaining walls of Briarstone toppled. Unseen by the handful of survivors, the ceiling of the chapel dropped, smashing the shrine of Desna.

The Dimension of Dreams forced its way into Golarion. Screams and gibbers and mad visions filled the sky. Briarstone Asylum collapsed on itself. The force of the blast hurled the amnesiacs and Winter to the ground. When their eyes cleared of dust and fog, the century-old complex was gone.

In its place, an arid waste of yellow sand. Fragments of alien architecture thrust up through the drifting dunes. The perpetual rain and chill of Ustalav refused to touch the eldritch blight at the island's heart.

Five survivors made their way to a rowboat, to carry the mad tale to Thrushmoor...


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Heh. One the players in my Strange Aeons campaign just emailed to say he'd drifted off for an afternoon nap and had a dream about Ustalav...

Muhahahaha!

I helpfully told him that if his character died in the dream, he dies in real life.


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Fhtagn, dude!


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Wooo! My weeknight group just finished Emerald Spire. So I'm getting back into the GM seat to run Strange Aeons. Lovecraftian amnesia horror! Woooooo!


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Fhtagn.


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That which is not living
can never truly die
now let's go to Hardees
and get ourselves some fries.


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If the Eldest get to come in, you have to take the Mythos gods too! It’s only ftaghn!


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MageHunter wrote:
Back street's back...

That which is not living can never really die,

something something something, their dance moves are really fly.


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The Sideromancer wrote:
I remember finding the absolutely hilarious results of training a bot on Lovecraft and telling it to complete sentences form a cookbook. Can't remember where, though.

Ah... the Necronomnomnom...


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*waits dreaming*


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*de-inks*


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If you get a large rumbling box labeled FREE CALAMARI, just don't even open it.


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ToMAYto, tenTAHcles.


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This is one of those stories that ends with someone standing on an iceberg, watching tentacles rip apart a burning ship as it sinks into the arctic waters, isn't it?

Keep your parka close.


*Eats Yog-Sothoth*


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That which is not living, can never truly die,
something something something, man, I want some fries.


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Berti Blackfoot wrote:
Brother Fen wrote:
A better question would be "Why doesn't everyone start at level one?"
Or "why do people keep making posts asking incredulously why other people have different gaming styles?"

There are some things Man Was Not Meant To Know... someday we will learn why people are incredulous when confronted with other people's subjective preferences for leisure time activity... and we will go mad, and flee to the safety of a new dark age...

Between you and me, I can't wait.


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Gisher wrote:
An Immortal Lychee wrote:

You could make an oradin with the Bones mystery...

I'll show myself out.

Not the Wood Mystery?

I'll show myself out as well.

As long as it's not the Godclaw mystery. Because who refers to their junk as "The Godclaw"? Gah...


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*dreams*


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Chyrone wrote:
102. They step through a portal, unknowingly entering the sunken city of Cthulhu.

Oh fhtagn!


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102. You are facing Cthulhu and he gets real pale and runs away from whatever is behind you.


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Lady-J wrote:
201. your party encounters chthulu

I think that's a way to make your party say "Oh fhtagn!"


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John Kretzer wrote:
Voss wrote:
John Kretzer wrote:
Overall in Chaotic faiths you will see more interpretations of the faith than say Lawful faiths.

I disagree with that, actually. Chaotic types are unlikely to worry about semantics or hairsplitting interpretative details.

They aren't likely to tolerate a five day seminar on 'What did Abadar mean by 'blessed are the cheesemakers,' they just want to get on eating the cheese already.

Is that not what I said...?

I thought it was what you said. But then, I'm chaotic, so maybe it wasn't what I thought you said. WILL SOMEONE GIVE ME SOME CHEESE?!