tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89641056514006667422024-03-08T05:47:55.023-06:00Thorn's ChronicleRobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-37609501515816338002023-11-27T12:19:00.001-06:002023-11-27T12:19:22.839-06:00Residential Block Northern Shopping District.... Impasse<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_V_ln8pMp2B9VQy_eP-gcvfIq5fAX6kI2btbzn3znAyWPITLqp4-FwvZ_H-VuyOl3df379aDXdBX_iq_d0csG7E7r16L5M-m3HjYmiV5byiQFNj8Og5aiCaDCGUaeoKQR-8oeVDTZmilbqMylURQgeQFtHL2gyqubYIwghLSSz-NyH73YcZlp-F1QYNF/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_V_ln8pMp2B9VQy_eP-gcvfIq5fAX6kI2btbzn3znAyWPITLqp4-FwvZ_H-VuyOl3df379aDXdBX_iq_d0csG7E7r16L5M-m3HjYmiV5byiQFNj8Og5aiCaDCGUaeoKQR-8oeVDTZmilbqMylURQgeQFtHL2gyqubYIwghLSSz-NyH73YcZlp-F1QYNF/s320/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="320" /></a></div> “All in one piece, then?” the sergeant asked, his attention still focused at the lower ever-stair landing.<br /><p></p><p>The professor nodded, then added a “Yes,” when the sergeant did not look his way. </p><p>“Sounds like there’s a ‘but…’ attached to that.” </p><p>“Reinforcements,” the corporal said. “Eight, that we know of. Down from nearly a dozen.” </p><p>The sergeant grunted. “It was awfully quiet work.”<span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p>“Ah…. That ‘work’ was done by the time we got there,” the professor said.</p><p>At that, the sergeant dared a quick glance at the girl, one eyebrow raised. He grunted again, but it was difficult to tell if it was in approval or dismissal.</p><p>The girl merely blinked at him, the handkerchief still held to her lip. </p><p>“Tougher than she looks,” was all he said.</p><p> </p><p>“We already bested three of your men!” he called to the floor below. </p><p>“It won’t be a problem for us to add the rest of them to our collection!” the corporal added, drawing a scowl from his sergeant. </p><p>There wasn’t exactly silence from below, but what men were down there spoke in voices too hushed to make out. </p><p>“We didn’t hear any shots!” </p><p>“That’s because we didn’t shoot them,” the sergeant said. “Right?” he glanced over at the girl. </p><p>After a moment, perhaps finally realizing that the question was directed to her, she shook her head. </p><p>“They’re knocked out cold,” the corporal shouted. “Tied up. Come on up if you want to join them.” </p><p>“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” </p><p>“Would we be having this conversation if they got the drop on us?” the sergeant asked. </p><p>There was a grumble of assent from below. “Got a point, there, Boss.” </p><p>The professor knelt down by the sergeant. “They’re stalling,” he said, in a low voice. “If those other groups are any better armed…” </p><p>“I know,” the sergeant growled. “I hoped we could trade our way out, but with twice our number closing in on us, that’s a pretty weak hand to play. </p><p>“What does our munitions supply look like?”</p><p>“You mean for us to blast our way out of here?” The professor shook his head.</p><p></p><p>The corporal grinned. “I’ve got a full case, plus what’s already loaded in Old Faithful.”</p><p>“Let’s not open up with that unless we have no choice,” the sergeant said. “Doc? What’ve you got for that Huntsman?” <br /></p><p>“I won’t—”</p><p>“You think Trixie, there, could handle them all by herself?”<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-38481547484800726362023-11-09T10:18:00.005-06:002023-11-27T12:19:43.282-06:00Residential Bloc Northern Shopping District, continued...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1KcaMK2vibQSGjgx4HbwwlYP0KsGNfclWNj6gnBGT6SBe13pLZfcdYJVWSpUr9zv5Sn1jcztnDX1nMITqem5jaRshI5MUZqin5syc8M4emQBTsC1wkeq9CyQ1nxBCKwxMlBU67TLSp0MFRV-bUUCZ-uC-UQ-P2mzNKsNrtWN-L4knGu5OMGIKupxDVZA/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1KcaMK2vibQSGjgx4HbwwlYP0KsGNfclWNj6gnBGT6SBe13pLZfcdYJVWSpUr9zv5Sn1jcztnDX1nMITqem5jaRshI5MUZqin5syc8M4emQBTsC1wkeq9CyQ1nxBCKwxMlBU67TLSp0MFRV-bUUCZ-uC-UQ-P2mzNKsNrtWN-L4knGu5OMGIKupxDVZA/w320-h200/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="320" /></a></div>The professor looked down, and then behind himself.<br /> <p></p><p>“She was just here!”<br /> </p><p>“Well, now she isn’t,” the sergeant said, with a glance at the professor. “Fix that, so we can get out of here.”<br />From the distance, in the darkness, there came a flash of bluish light, and the sound of a man’s voice — and then another’s — crying out.<span></span></p><a name='more'></a>The professor and corporal both hefted their longarms, each muttering a choice oath as they ran towards the commotion, <i>glowstones</i> held aloft.<br /> <p></p><p>They stumbled across the girl standing in a relatively open area, where four tiled pathways met. Sprawled at the carpeted perimeter were three men, in the vests and leathers of one or another of the Inner City’s notorious street gangs. Their gloves were charred, burnt completely through in places, and the beginnings of ugly bruises blossomed on brow and cheek.<br /> </p><p>The men lowered their longarms, and the girl turned slowly their way, wiping at a spot of blood where her lip had split.<br /> </p><p>“You’re hurt!” the professor said, and he knelt before the girl, fishing in his coat pockets for a handkerchief. He wadded it up, and dabbed at the girl’s lip. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”<br /> </p><p>The girl shook her head, mashing her lip into his hand as she did so, but showing no sign of discomfort.<br /> </p><p>The corporal inspected the fallen men, and began roughly moving them together. He cast about the racks, finally finding a selection of belts which he used to bind the men’s hands, and then secure them to a large, heavy looking display case.<br /> </p><p>“Those guys got the tar kicked out of them,” the corporal said, as he came back over to the girl. She hadn’t moved, except to take the handkerchief from the professor to hold it to her lip on her own. The corporal gave her a bit of a wide berth, and looked askance at the small hand that the professor had taken in his own.<br /> </p><p>The professor gave her hand a tug. “Come on, we should get back to the sergeant.”</p><p>He tugged again when the girl didn’t move. “We—”</p><p>The corporal turned a slow circle, his <i>glowstone</i> held high. “Maybe there are more of them,” he said. <br /></p><p>At that, the girl nodded. </p><p>“How many? Where?”</p><p>Her hand slipped from that of the professor, and she held up three fingers, glancing up. She turned a half circle, still looking up, and uncurled the remaining two fingers.<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-6734231001030673842023-09-28T08:53:00.003-05:002023-11-27T12:20:29.881-06:00Residential Bloc North Shopping Disctrict, continued...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAyjtnChMijSQnjuQfytUwa0yZA89CAgKpZ8oE2Nh5AJCJ0E5__m6fT9fmWE8zENrIPwf5sykuobFamdTx5kbU4AGMD9dTTQgYDjHl0719DansZJUTj__dJEME2s779bVn8B0rkctJHUBWggg8JBH8p2yGCVOu8QxEiN4uaqkzXwIQr8C3VuRBTG6T_j8/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAyjtnChMijSQnjuQfytUwa0yZA89CAgKpZ8oE2Nh5AJCJ0E5__m6fT9fmWE8zENrIPwf5sykuobFamdTx5kbU4AGMD9dTTQgYDjHl0719DansZJUTj__dJEME2s779bVn8B0rkctJHUBWggg8JBH8p2yGCVOu8QxEiN4uaqkzXwIQr8C3VuRBTG6T_j8/w400-h250/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><b> (4♢)</b>They found the sergeant crouched at the top of the second floor ever-stair landing, helmed up, sighting down his longarm, which he braced against the central railing.<p></p><p><br />“What in the hells is—” the corporal began, only to be cut off by the sharp report from a sidearm, the bullet pinging off the immobile ever-stair between the first and second floor.<span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p><br />“Well, looks like you were telling the truth about having more companions.” A man’s voice followed the shot. “Looks like it’s going to cost even more to get out of here, now.”</p><p><br />The sergeant risked a glance over his shoulder, then looked again when the girl stepped out from behind the professor.</p><p><br />“Real inconspicuous,” was all he said, then returned his attention to the sights of his longarm.</p><p><br />“Leave all of your stuff, especially what you’re stealing from us, and we’ll let you walk out of here unharmed.”</p><p><br />“Unless one of you is maiden-sized, and likes the color of redbuds, we haven’t taken much you’ll miss,” the corporal shouted.</p><p><br />Another shot rang up the stairwell, the paneled side of the ever-stair sparking.</p><p><br />“These are our grounds, see? And everything here belongs to us. So that’s trespassing, and stealing.”</p><p><br />“We just needed a few things,” the sergeant called. “We’re on our way out of this place, anyway. Half a stretch, and we’ll be long gone. Nobody has to get hurt.”</p><p><br />“Jep’s already hurt!”</p><p><br />“He shot first.”</p><p><br />“He’s bleeding!”</p><p><br />“It just grazed him. He’ll be fine with some gel and a healing wrap.”<br /><br /><br />“How many of them are down there?” the corporal asked, in a harsh whisper.</p><p><br />“Three. Came out of the shadows across the street, rushed me.”</p><p><br />“Three on three is even odds. We have longarms. Sounds like they only have handhelds.”</p><p><br />“Plus, we have— what?” The professor’s thought was interrupted at the girl’s tug on the sleeve of his coat.</p><p><br />“We have the high ground,” the corporal said.</p><p><br />“Ever-stair landing is a choke-point,” the sergeant pointed out. “Put a man on either side of it, makes for a nice cross fire zone. They’d hit us from both sides. Same as we'd do if they come charging up here.”</p><p><br />The corporal frowned, then looked over at the professor. “Doc, what do you — hey, where’d the girl go?”</p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-46951905066678631352023-08-19T07:38:00.007-05:002023-08-19T07:38:33.794-05:00 Residential Bloc 77G North Shopping District, continued<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HedqHotT46vkshSnVGISTM92MqkMwIt1r0WOC1shF73NlTuQPiK5_7r5BIwjjqeNdUV5-NqYEhGKHEv4lphWJXAyUeyKDXqI8KnkLJaSORgFib_HzwNMC6wonBTXCYJi3Hn2D1tcK10zh0vHSLzQXzi-HRYNjKlsGS8tIwahtFnYvxNonky-l_fZa-qu/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HedqHotT46vkshSnVGISTM92MqkMwIt1r0WOC1shF73NlTuQPiK5_7r5BIwjjqeNdUV5-NqYEhGKHEv4lphWJXAyUeyKDXqI8KnkLJaSORgFib_HzwNMC6wonBTXCYJi3Hn2D1tcK10zh0vHSLzQXzi-HRYNjKlsGS8tIwahtFnYvxNonky-l_fZa-qu/s320/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="320" /></a></div>The corporal shrugged off his pack at the top of the immobile ever-stairs’ third landing. “I’ll take up station here.”<p></p><p><br />The professor, too, dropped his pack, and after a glance at the directory map on the wall, started down the tiled path towards Maiden’s Wear. He turned, when the girl didn’t follow, and held out a hand.</p><p><br />“Come along, girl,” he said.<span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p><br />At that, she shifted her distant stare to the brown-haired man, then at his outstretched hand, only then lifting her hand to his. Once his grip tightened around her hand, her eyes returned to whatever it was that was just over his left shoulder.</p><p><br />When he walked, she walked. When he slowed, or stopped, she did the same.</p><p><br />“What about something here?” he asked, turning the <i>glowstone</i>’s light on a rack of prefabricated jumpers.</p><p><br />The girl blinked, then lowered her gaze when the man repeated his question, this time pointing.</p><p><br />“Well? No,” he said, when he saw her gaze starting to drift. He pointed again. “Take one of these to try on.”</p><p><br />Again, the girl blinked, then nodded, and took the garment closest to where the man pointed. She then reached for the knots in the greenish-gray medical robe.</p><p><br />“No!” the dark-haired man said, closing his hand over hers. “In there.” He pointed to a line of curtained alcoves at the edge of the glowstone’s circle of light. </p><p><br />When the girl did not move, he reiterated the motion. “Go in there to try that on, please.”</p><p><br />A glance towards the alcoves, and then a slight nod, and then the girl made her way towards them, garment in hand. She stopped in front of the row of curtained openings, and looked back towards the professor.</p><p><br />“Whichever you want,” he said. When she didn’t move, he waved a finger. “The alcove on the left.”</p><p><br />The briefest of nods, and the girl stepped to one side, then slipped through the curtain.</p><p><br />The professor removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Insellegath’s teeth,” he muttered. As he slipped his glasses back on, he called over towards the curtained doorway.</p><p><br />“When you’ve changed, step out.”</p><p><br />A handful of breaths later, the curtain rippled, and then the girl stepped out, and the man shook his head.<br />The jumper hung off one shoulder, the sleeves hanging nearly to the girl’s knees. The hem of the dress portion, which should have hung to her knees, was nearly to her ankles.</p><p><br />“That’s—” The professor caught himself. Much too large, yes, but it was the one he’d indicated. Only following instructions, he thought to himself. Only… He took a calming breath.</p><p><br />“Find yourself something to wear. That fits. Easy to move in. Traveling garb. Once you have it, return here to change into it.”</p><p><br />The girl gave another barely perceptible nod, then looked slowly across the expanse of racks of clothing. Once she’d completed her sweep, she turned, and picked her way through the fixtures, plucking this or that with barely a glance. </p><p><br />Though the professor held his <i>glowstone</i> over his head to illuminate as much of the clothing as possible, the girl didn’t seem to need it. Several times, she walked completely out of the circle of light, without so much as a falter or hitch in her step.</p><p><br />“Undergarments, as well,” he reminded her, as she made her way back towards him. This brought a pause, nod, and she turned in a circle, her eyes darting from one rack to the next. And again, without hesitation, she marched out of the <i>glowstone</i>’s light. When she returned several minutes later, she did not even give a sideways glance to the professor, simply walking past him to the same fitting alcove, arms full of garments.<br /><br /><br />She had surprisingly good taste. A pair of faded indigo twilled trousers, a collared, button-down blouse of similar fabric. Calf-high boots of sturdy but supple leather, without much heel and good soles. It would have taken the professor hours of picking through the racks to find as much.</p><p><br />“Good,” he said, after he’d remembered to tell the girl to step out, and got a look at what she’d chosen. “Gather two more sets of traveler’s clothes of similar make, and a pack or satchel to hold them.”</p><p><br />Was it his imagination, or did the girl’s pale lips turn up ever so slightly at his praise? The quirk was gone as she nodded in acceptance of his instructions, and then she was off again, without so much as a bump or stumble in the dark of the farther reaches of the store’s expanse.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">* * *<br /></p><p>The corporal raised an eyebrow, as the professor and the girl approached the ever-stairs.</p><p><br />“What?” the professor asked. </p><p><br />“You couldn’t have picked her a pack that was maybe a little more…” He shrugged, and indicated his own pack, by his feet.</p><p><br />It was the professor’s turn to shrug. “I told her to pick one herself, and that’s the one she wanted.”</p><p><br />“There wasn’t one with a little less… pink to it?”</p><p><br />The girl watched the exchange, glancing back and forth between the two men. She hitched the brilliant pink backpack, settling it a bit higher on her back. She began drawing her hair — still streaked and caked with fine particles from the ash fall— out from under one of the straps, when the sharp crackle of gunfire echoed up the ever-stairwell.</p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-6964883718478072852023-08-12T07:01:00.000-05:002023-08-12T07:01:11.277-05:00Residential Bloc 77G North Shopping District<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9a1oPvCN1ayPpSQ-0txAoATOYR5H13heo2BjyQkRWR-6_ZKG1731OEs-YCzWoQ0eZ97r61Z2ZMzFPSsxjP3zvA3smndKaSm9c-2gyZMXbuhD_DIQM-Gzx5jd6DJOvj1nKpjovH6x-Tu95uFfWGNXNg7fz0jRNKlixJ_WlKSb_C6_6JSezhMjnqgRHjlGR/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9a1oPvCN1ayPpSQ-0txAoATOYR5H13heo2BjyQkRWR-6_ZKG1731OEs-YCzWoQ0eZ97r61Z2ZMzFPSsxjP3zvA3smndKaSm9c-2gyZMXbuhD_DIQM-Gzx5jd6DJOvj1nKpjovH6x-Tu95uFfWGNXNg7fz0jRNKlixJ_WlKSb_C6_6JSezhMjnqgRHjlGR/s320/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="320" /></a></div>“What about this one?” the corporal asked, holding up something frilly and pink, with an inordinate amount of bows in front of the girl.<p></p><p><br />As with the three dresses he’d picked prior, the girl looked the garment up and down, and then returned her stare to someplace that seemed to always be over the shoulder of whomever was speaking to her.</p><p><br />“Yeah, not particularly practical.” The corporal tossed it aside, atop the pile with the others.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br />“Wasting daylight!” the sergeant called, from his place by the glass-paneled doors of the boutique.</p><p><br />“Nothing in this place is practical,” the dark-haired man said. He’d been looking through rack after rack of gowns, dresses, blouses… all of it frilled, or spangled, or both.</p><p><br />“Then we move on to the next,” the sergeant said, easing the door open, and holding it with his foot, long-arm held at the ready as he scanned up and down the shopping street. “Try to keep under cover to this side. That ash fall doesn’t seem to be letting up.”</p><p><br />“Three or four stores past the corner is a Whimsby’s,” the professor said, pointing. “We’re bound to find something utilitarian for the girl there.”</p><p><br />“That’s why nobody shops at Whimsby’s,” the corporal muttered.<br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">* * *<br /></p><p>Three solid hits with the butt of the corporal’s heavy long-arm saw them through the shopfront’s security shutter.<br /> </p><p>“Huh. No alarm,” he noted.<br /> </p><p>“No power to the wards,” the professor said.<br /> </p><p>“Which also means <i>glowstones</i>,” the sergeant grumbled. “Brilliant. Shopping in the dark.”<br /> </p><p>“They sell handhelds,” the corporal said. “We’ll just grab some at the kiosks.”</p><p><br />The sergeant snorted. “Sounds like you know your way around.”</p><p><br />“I shop for the consumables, not the fashion. Name an outpost that doesn’t have a Whimsby’s.”</p><p><br />The professor nodded. “Fair point. Military pay isn’t all that great.” He managed to catch the handheld <i>glowstone</i> package the corporal tossed perhaps a bit harder than necessary.</p><p><br />“You’ve got a couple of stretches, maximum,” the sergeant said, taking up position just inside the security shutters. “Shopping spree for the little lady, then grab what supplies you think we can carry.”<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-61669012849523892412023-07-29T15:00:00.001-05:002023-07-29T15:00:18.620-05:00Uthorrad, Inner City Residential Bloc, continued....<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2v5v1Y_fBCiOg9v1o9dEK4VETJOj3Z5lR2TVFDDoJ9fM28b8OMPGw9q0weCy7vuvElRUgcrXPPVLm068glbHwsMSShUbqoqdzAZroTzD1mbXPvvt1wePWKpsgv3pkG83tCNL8_g66tnuqv88WMAMcOwIh7nzaM5uzpYbX5mCEmE8zB9GpAvbi1YYt9oKx/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2v5v1Y_fBCiOg9v1o9dEK4VETJOj3Z5lR2TVFDDoJ9fM28b8OMPGw9q0weCy7vuvElRUgcrXPPVLm068glbHwsMSShUbqoqdzAZroTzD1mbXPvvt1wePWKpsgv3pkG83tCNL8_g66tnuqv88WMAMcOwIh7nzaM5uzpYbX5mCEmE8zB9GpAvbi1YYt9oKx/w400-h250/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="400" /></a></div>“Hold!” the sergeant called, when after three paces, he realized that the girl had not followed.<p></p><p><br />“Last chance,” he told her, and waited a beat. Then another. He had just turned on his heel to resume his march when the howls sprang up. Not close, well beyond the borders of the housing bloc’s grove. But not so far away that a loping run wouldn’t see them breaking through the trees in less than a stretch’s turnover.<span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p><br />“Insellegath’s teeth,” he muttered, and stalked back to the girl, taking one of her hands in his own. At the contact, she blinked, only reluctantly lowering her gaze from the crystalline dome.</p><p><br />“Come on,” he said, having to tug at her hand to get the girl to move. The sergeant spat another curse. “How in the seven Hells did you get out here without any shoes?”</p><p><br />In answer, the girl only looked down at her bare feet, and then back at the sergeant.</p><p><br />“Never mind,” he said. “No, shoes, only a … is that a medical gown?”</p><p><br />Another chorus of howls rose and fell, answered by another, from the south.</p><p><br />“Questions later.” He slung his longarm, and swept the girl off her feet. She gave a surprised squawk — the first sound to pass her pale lips.</p><p><br />“Apologies will have to wait, girl. We need to move. Doc! Closest shopping arcade!”</p><p><br />“I hardly think anyplace will be open at a time like this,” the dark-haired professor stammered.</p><p><br />“I think Sarge means we’ll be the ones opening it,” the corporal said with a grin.</p><p><br />“If you have the wind to chuckle, you can carry her,” the sergeant growled. “She’s heavier than she looks!”<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-21535325613498490932023-04-09T05:35:00.003-05:002023-07-29T15:01:33.824-05:00Uthorrad, Inner City Residential Bloc 77G, continued...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhuax-j75EywcKoGyfF56hwkG7z4rP-baXrgWJN87iKVbMpBM_Xn0ZM_Q1GLQbM1X5XffJVneboVl5MwDrYEi7CRPvtkpsuAkfYw1B9PV8Lzu88Xen_B-xn-UJyRKNukyTDY4Q1lrLrPgP75Z-qxBwLMidcLGIJv_emStEkVjhIwzv_8qPeyX7r3DvA/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhuax-j75EywcKoGyfF56hwkG7z4rP-baXrgWJN87iKVbMpBM_Xn0ZM_Q1GLQbM1X5XffJVneboVl5MwDrYEi7CRPvtkpsuAkfYw1B9PV8Lzu88Xen_B-xn-UJyRKNukyTDY4Q1lrLrPgP75Z-qxBwLMidcLGIJv_emStEkVjhIwzv_8qPeyX7r3DvA/s320/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="320" /></a></div><span> </span>The wolf-like beasts advanced, spreading out. One angled for the men, while the other two made for the girl.<br /><span> </span>The dark-haired man dropped to one knee at the bottom of the stairs, bringing his longarm up, sighting down the barrel. His shot dropped one of the wargs headed for the girl. The corporal kept running, firing from the hip, wounding the other wolf-like creature.<span><a name='more'></a></span><br /><span> </span>Their lope stretched into a run, and the run to a lunge as they reached their prey.<br /><span> </span>The wounded warg’s leap for the girl was ill-timed, and it’s growl fell into a whine as it landed on its bad leg, causing it to partially lose its footing.<br /><span> </span>The corporal brought the longarm to bear too late to fire as the other warg leapt at him, but the creature’s fangs closed on metal instead of the soldier’s arm. He spun the weapon, the creature’s neck giving a sharp ‘crack’ and it fell limply away.<br /><span> </span>The corporal turned, just in time to see the dark-haired man swinging his own longarm to bear, and the soldier threw himself flat.<br /><span> </span>The dark-haired man fired, dropping the wounded warg before it could lunge for the girl a second time.<br /><p></p><p><br /><span> </span>“Hey!”<br /><span> </span>The girl, her back mostly to the corporal, did not turn. In fact, she kept her gaze on the hazy gray sky visible beyond the inner city’s great dome.<br /><span> </span>“Hey, what in the seven Hells is wrong with you, girl?”<br /><span> </span>She only turned because of the corporal’s hand on her shoulder, but rather than looking at the man, she seemed to look through him.<br /><span> </span>He gave her a shake. “You hear me?”<br /><span> </span>She blinked, slowly, and her gaze focused on the corporal’s eyes. Then it went to the hand on her shoulder.<br /><span> </span>“I asked you—”<br /><span> </span>The sergeant’s hand closed over the corporal’s shoulder, spinning him around.<br /><span> </span>“What in the seven Hells is wrong with you, boy?”<br /><span> </span>Freed from the corporal’s grip, the girl took a step back, the corner of her pale lips quirked in the slightest hint of a smile.<br /><span> </span>“I— she—”<br /><span> </span>“Every pair of ears left in this place heard that racket, and chances are there aren’t many of them friendly to us left.”<br /><span> </span>“We—”<br /><span> </span>“We need to move!” the sergeant barked, and gave the corporal a shove. “Northeast, towards the garrison and armory!”<br /><span> </span>The dark-haired man had slung his longarm, not breaking stride as he formed up behind the still-muttering corporal.<br /><span> </span>The sergeant turned towards the girl as he took up the rearguard. He jerked a thumb towards the two departing men. “Fall in, if you’re coming with us.”<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-14999093387574877502023-02-18T02:25:00.001-06:002023-07-29T15:01:51.466-05:00Uthorrad, Inner City Residential Bloc 77G: Daybreak<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3MQhtkLF5NViapNpQdRKPloJALNosOM1XiG2jrU0oPa7c0jH-Thr6-0-DtrdEFyS7ge3ys4aav71uBYn6e0ndMgziIc41rMlIIFjeFTVsBvcaA9FA6GPeh_MPIKlU4qdur1wqV08Nw4bhpj-hPqjRuDZCh3hgB1cRiatafJryyCUzami1ZNv_mYoLw/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3MQhtkLF5NViapNpQdRKPloJALNosOM1XiG2jrU0oPa7c0jH-Thr6-0-DtrdEFyS7ge3ys4aav71uBYn6e0ndMgziIc41rMlIIFjeFTVsBvcaA9FA6GPeh_MPIKlU4qdur1wqV08Nw4bhpj-hPqjRuDZCh3hgB1cRiatafJryyCUzami1ZNv_mYoLw/w200-h125/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="200" /></a></div><span> (3♦︎) </span>Rather than try the levi-lift, they opted for the exterior stairwell.<br /><span> </span>A yipping howl reached them as they turned ‘round the second-floor landing. The sergeant made to carry on, but the dark-haired man plucked at his sleeve.<br /><span> </span>“What now?”<br /><span> </span>“You didn’t hear that?” the dark haired man asked.<br /><span> </span>“Just some dog.” The sergeant’s sleeve slipped free as he shrugged.<br /><span> </span>“No,” the dark-haired man said. “That’s a sentinel hound’s warning.”<br /><span> </span>“Close,” the corporal said. He rummaged through his pack, and pulled out a scuffed far-seer tube. He put it to one eye, squinting the other as he swept his gaze across the copse of trees along the far side of the development.<br /><span> </span>They’d skirted the edge of the recreational park on their way to the housing bloc the night before. The yipping bark repeated, to be joined by another. Shadows roiled in the half-light, and as they began to move, they became discernible even without the aid of the far-seer.<br /><span> </span>“Wargs.” The sergeant’s growl might well have been that of one of the shaggy wolf-like forms that skulked beneath the tree line. “To think we almost—”<br /><span> </span>“We have to get down there!” The corporal hitched his gear, and pushed past the other two men, taking every second or third step down, just slow enough to keep his pack from pulling him too far off balance.<br /><span> </span>The dark-haired man followed the corporal’s sightline, sucking in a breath as he caught sight of what had the other man in such a hurry. <br /><span> </span>At the edge of the park, where the paving gave way to close-cut grass, a girl stood, staring upward at the swirling fall of ash, oblivious to the three hunched dog-like creatures that loped from the trees.<br /><p></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-34024881705894636532023-02-12T07:28:00.001-06:002023-02-12T07:28:24.253-06:00On track to return soon....<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmD-MUlPiIi2G6OPuQTdrpN7YcvjliBavPwalsTNrLdIYOaJqNewcxD_98iYbi0x74FLCcybf7IbDZ4evc74fuX19AOznb2gPkKHYZAUcbQn-BOjn022pjb4hELmd-5dTB6u9vp878gtBGj1v3Y6zPvp4uxCCHfCMZ04O50xB70TYyBotw_t2nwRUqFw/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmD-MUlPiIi2G6OPuQTdrpN7YcvjliBavPwalsTNrLdIYOaJqNewcxD_98iYbi0x74FLCcybf7IbDZ4evc74fuX19AOznb2gPkKHYZAUcbQn-BOjn022pjb4hELmd-5dTB6u9vp878gtBGj1v3Y6zPvp4uxCCHfCMZ04O50xB70TYyBotw_t2nwRUqFw/s320/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /> When the templates in the box aren't quite the ones you need, building and editing takes a wee bit of time. <p></p><p>More time than expected, apparently....<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-20400843823423417972023-01-19T12:40:00.003-06:002023-01-19T12:41:14.248-06:00Uthorrad, Inner City: Residential Bloc 77G<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sWIdc_-bs_7EnItgy24F7u_TNNqR8nzEr9-Kz233ArlOg17Ac2MMw5yrqe6H8vpladkfOrbhhCsEOvsL5UgzcR5xN-411dq_YSjt4Z5_KGmvxUvt9liTVKju1x9EVgRg408citKhe88uxruT09zuQanfEaICZBtBHwRLNfLr7Oq7HwH-yv3Dp6DCmw/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sWIdc_-bs_7EnItgy24F7u_TNNqR8nzEr9-Kz233ArlOg17Ac2MMw5yrqe6H8vpladkfOrbhhCsEOvsL5UgzcR5xN-411dq_YSjt4Z5_KGmvxUvt9liTVKju1x9EVgRg408citKhe88uxruT09zuQanfEaICZBtBHwRLNfLr7Oq7HwH-yv3Dp6DCmw/w200-h125/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="200" /></a></div><span> </span>The dark-haired man slowed, at the sounds of an altercation down a nearby alleyway.<br /><span> </span>The sergeant grabbed his arm, and the man stumbled as the direction of his steps abruptly changed.<br /><span> </span>“Keep moving,” the sergeant murmured.<br /><span> </span>“But—”<br /><span> </span>“Not our concern. These streets aren’t safe, and we need to get to somewhere we can hold up until daylight.”<br /><span> </span>“But they could be hurt, and—”<br /><span> </span>“And they could be beast men quarreling. Until we come along to remind them of who their real enemy is.”<br /><span> </span>“But—”<br /><span> </span>“No ‘buts.’ We move on.”<br /><span> </span>“It’s not right.” There was a hint of steel in the dark-haired man’s voice.<br /><span> </span>“No, it isn’t,” the sergeant agreed, “it’s war.”<br /><br /><span> </span>They pressed onward, reaching the dark-haired man’s quarters on the third floor of a typical middle-income housing bloc shortly before midnight.<br /><span> </span>The night, however, was anything but restful. Far from it, it was as though the city sat in the midst of a great thunderstorm. But there was no rain, just a roar of distant and not-so-distant explosions, and flash after flash, as bright as— sometimes brighter than— the noonday’s sun. Each followed by a wash of heat, and a screaming wind that threatened to shatter the panes of glass in the windows. With each strike of the monumental lightning, the ground shook, which transmitted up through the building, which seemed unable to decide whether it wanted to shake itself, or sway from side to side, walls and floors and ceilings creaking and groaning like the wakened dead.<br /><br />(2♠︎) Groggy, grainy-eyed, they gathered up their packs, the dark-haired man hurriedly putting together a duffel. The materials in his box he threw into a sturdy leather satchel, adding a few memory-keep slices of readingglass after a moment’s thought. Last thing before they left, he rummaged through the cloak cupboard, slinging a bolt-action long-arm over is other shoulder, and tossing a half-full box of shells into his duffel.<br /><span> </span>It took the sergeant’s shoulder to get the door to budge, and they were greeted by a muted, steely light filtering through vast cracks in the overhead glassteel dome that enclosed the Inner City. A fine, dusty powder drifted from between those cracks, floating down, spiraling like snow that never fell in the sealed cityscape.<br /><span> </span>The sergeant fished a kerchief from one of the pockets of his uniform, and tied it over his mouth and nose. The corporal and the dark-haired man did likewise, after sharing an astonished look at the state of the weather-that-should-not-be.<br /><p></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-45275274078659375952023-01-15T13:12:00.004-06:002023-01-15T13:12:25.202-06:00Role Call: "Lance"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-d1Qs-hZVhurwaARXZpUPWuBiT-Fw48rHUv9iIT4hG2aZcYvTdoU03vWgOXbk14ruhp8wFELqNagmlwV29-EKGUzANxgvsnR62ok2cXZhUdtbUhuKDhDMHZ3ik1JHjc3LH6bwFWPyVuygFyPuxdQowas87M7xn337fRTvUN9P4jHfjB_0oZMi3OMnw/s638/Lance.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="495" data-original-width="638" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-d1Qs-hZVhurwaARXZpUPWuBiT-Fw48rHUv9iIT4hG2aZcYvTdoU03vWgOXbk14ruhp8wFELqNagmlwV29-EKGUzANxgvsnR62ok2cXZhUdtbUhuKDhDMHZ3ik1JHjc3LH6bwFWPyVuygFyPuxdQowas87M7xn337fRTvUN9P4jHfjB_0oZMi3OMnw/s320/Lance.png" width="320" /></a></div>Kilian Gunnarsson actually got a few years into his studies at Blackmoor University before the Imperial Defense Forces draft caught up to him.<p></p><p>Since then he has been pushed through initial training, and served mostly in the rearguards, pushing paperwork and making sure supplies were routed to their proper locations.</p><p>Kilian knew the city's days were numbered when CenCom sent his unit was to the Inner City to facilitate the garrison with breakdown and evacuation.</p><p>He did not expect them to pull the plug on the Lightning Road, stranding him there with the last of the garrison, and remaining residents...<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-64565286873086984882023-01-11T14:42:00.000-06:002023-01-11T14:42:29.859-06:00Escape from Uthorrad<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3scXXlT3v9dOv9Yxj1oD_U5HKqD3asiY19t-CbH331ozBvB2UT-05RUVkGB93mP20qjvTPxh942N3fyutiDN15Co2a10CZa56n9cV1lPqi9vRVK1i1yxCnhBldNZ_Cw7O4ItKruQUyaD13Sm32ZE0J5HfHZg9YV27dRe2XNqVxZ5005xrQCQllix32g/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3scXXlT3v9dOv9Yxj1oD_U5HKqD3asiY19t-CbH331ozBvB2UT-05RUVkGB93mP20qjvTPxh942N3fyutiDN15Co2a10CZa56n9cV1lPqi9vRVK1i1yxCnhBldNZ_Cw7O4ItKruQUyaD13Sm32ZE0J5HfHZg9YV27dRe2XNqVxZ5005xrQCQllix32g/w200-h125/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><u><span><br /> </span>Uthorrad, Inner City; Public Lightning Road Terminus 22:20</u></h4><p>(2♠︎)The streets outside the Lightning Road terminus were empty… at least, as far as the men could tell. Thick fog settled in, obscuring everything more than a few strides away. Fighting could be heard, but between the muffling effect of the mists, and echoes off the buildings…. It was hard to tell if it was down the next block, or halfway across the city.<span></span></p><a name='more'></a><br /><span> </span>“Protius’ puckered—” The corporal bit back on his words before the rest of them came out. “How in the hells are we supposed to find our way through this pea soup?”<br /><span> </span>“Quietly,” the sergeant hissed. “Which way, Doc?”<br /><span> </span>“The lev-line station is across the street… I’m assuming we’ll just follow the footway along below the track?”<br /><span> </span>“Good cover, those,” the sergeant nodded. “And pretty regular.”<br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b><u><br /></u></b></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><b><u>Uthorrad, Inner City, The Southern Tangle 22:35</u></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvXBqQ-1UEE-M8MJ-VREDD6nN3ig8XAmrwLd2CS3J5-7_CM99SxtlRW1j5Zad622V4iq2toGWOYM1on3q0SsajjWHEsPCDR6zkDXAcEo2otH7xzV0RXVxyYGIovXJqX0lYZz10GHUPNt1MyQgN1-R-ew3eA4iBIH9kdh3oxSwCwnj5QQfEDmu5NvRbg/s153/Hex1n2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="147" data-original-width="153" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvXBqQ-1UEE-M8MJ-VREDD6nN3ig8XAmrwLd2CS3J5-7_CM99SxtlRW1j5Zad622V4iq2toGWOYM1on3q0SsajjWHEsPCDR6zkDXAcEo2otH7xzV0RXVxyYGIovXJqX0lYZz10GHUPNt1MyQgN1-R-ew3eA4iBIH9kdh3oxSwCwnj5QQfEDmu5NvRbg/s1600/Hex1n2.png" width="153" /></a></div></h4><p>(9♥︎) The sound of toil, and deep voices came to them out of the mists some blocks later. Another few paces, and they could see low walls of sandbags erected between the multitude of lev-line support struts. Two of the lines criss-crossed high above, arcing flyways allowing for levtrains to merge from all four directions.<br /><span> </span>The fog lit up, turning pearly white under the harsh glare of a focused glowstone. Five long-arm barrels pointed in the direction of the three men, as well as one much larger, mounted on a crude but functional pintle on the back of a flatbed hauler.<br /><span> </span>“Boss, these aren’t beasties!” one of the men behind the sandbag barricade shouted up at his fellow behind the flatbed-mounted weapon.<br /><span> </span>“Why aren’t you boys off further north, fighting off that pack of beasties that got through the shield doors?” the man on the flatbed shouted.<br /><span> </span>“What are you lot doing here pointing those things at us instead of following the evacuation orders?” the sergeant shouted back.<br /><span> </span>“My grandfather bled and died retaking this city. I’m not going to be chased out of it by some mangy pack of beast men!”<br /><span> </span>The man’s bravado was echoed by a couple of the others.<br /><span> </span>The barrel of the enhanced long-arm on the pintle did not waver.<br /><span> </span>“Throw down your weapons and gear and we’ll let you evacuate,” the man behind it spat.<br /><span> </span>The sergeant shrugged, but made no move to surrender his own long-arm. “You can bleed and die and meet up with your father’s father in Limbo, but we’d like not do that, so we’ll hold on to ours, thanks just the same.”<br /><span> </span>“I said—”<br /><span> </span>“Friend,” the dark-haired man said, stepping forward, his hands up, “these soldiers have but two long-arms. By my count, you have three times that many. Now, if you waste your rounds shooting at us, and these men return fire, that’s that many fewer you would stand to gain in this endeavor. And that many fewer either of us will have to throw at the true enemy.”<br /><span> </span>“They’re using Imperial arms,” one of the men behind the sandbags said. <br /><span> </span>Another spoke up. “Smaller chamber size, and they need different charge-pins than what we’ve got.”<br /><span> </span>“And—”<br /><span> </span>“Enough!” the man on the flatbed shouted. The fog swallowed any echo that might have resulted from his outburst. “Is it true? That the Lightning Road has gone dark?”<br /><span> </span>The sergeant nodded. “It is.”<br /><span> </span>“And you’re just going to abandon the defense of the city?”<br /><span> </span>“The city’s already fallen. We aim to head east. Maybe make it to one of the ports in Frosthaven.”<br /><span> </span>The man on the flatbed laughed. None of the other men laughed with him, though. “You’ll die out there.”<br /><span> </span>The sergeant shrugged again. “Less chance out there than walled up in here.” He slung his long-arm, hitched his duffel a little higher on his shoulder. “Ixion light your way to Limbo,” he said. “Best of luck to you.”<br /><span> </span>The man behind the enhanced long-arm spat, and turned the weapon away from the soldiers, more in the general direction of where the fighting might be.<br /><span> </span>“Once and Always,” he said, over his shoulder, as the sergeant, corporal and dark-haired man continued on into the fog.<br /><span> </span>“Once, Always, and Everafter,” the dark-haired man said, with a nod.<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-85401942599261543322023-01-07T16:35:00.000-06:002023-01-07T16:35:25.908-06:00Role Call: "Doc"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSleuHhPhUQIMkFb6JXvWnWB7SdWndVvoRMLit57W64ZDl8V0lAMQNjvgNx3mMHcslfYE1DD902Ap-viQEnCBVXNT8hF4A0PXG1vYAPBj_S7LHlvfg8kldFNhRfAfUUl-qPwMxkVr_CxmFxvgzGYnpmk1RNGBT7T_GeMEBHsNSzVTvK81RzVsxF6l6mg/s622/Screen%20Shot%202023-01-07%20at%202.09.25%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="622" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSleuHhPhUQIMkFb6JXvWnWB7SdWndVvoRMLit57W64ZDl8V0lAMQNjvgNx3mMHcslfYE1DD902Ap-viQEnCBVXNT8hF4A0PXG1vYAPBj_S7LHlvfg8kldFNhRfAfUUl-qPwMxkVr_CxmFxvgzGYnpmk1RNGBT7T_GeMEBHsNSzVTvK81RzVsxF6l6mg/w400-h320/Screen%20Shot%202023-01-07%20at%202.09.25%20PM.png" width="400" /></a></div> Professor Viktor Markhov taught history at Blackoor University, before taking a sabbatical to study beast man ruins in the Borean Valley of the far western continent.<p></p><p><span> </span>It was because of his familiarity with the beast man culture, as well as the history of the Empire that the siege and eventual fall of Uthorrad did not come as any surprise to the professor.</p><p><span> </span>He did not, however, think that he would actually be <i>in</i> the city when it happened...<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-30374336405525379562023-01-04T13:46:00.000-06:002023-01-04T13:46:38.767-06:00Uthorrad, Inner City <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodk1jfIwyPYMeFSaO81_0h7APxzTVjmK0Zor2pio3SMTujaGlTdWNrA_g0-OvbHQ3xHzG5CYpKIfGHPDH1d942K6Q57atPKS-5vxuDWenhoOT-amcBZ83l0Un1Ltz80ol_w6roImZz5H4cM2dFMTW0RF0UHPymNDS-NzfhnPaKo8IsGBbXof5QNndFw/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodk1jfIwyPYMeFSaO81_0h7APxzTVjmK0Zor2pio3SMTujaGlTdWNrA_g0-OvbHQ3xHzG5CYpKIfGHPDH1d942K6Q57atPKS-5vxuDWenhoOT-amcBZ83l0Un1Ltz80ol_w6roImZz5H4cM2dFMTW0RF0UHPymNDS-NzfhnPaKo8IsGBbXof5QNndFw/s320/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="320" /></a></div>Another tremor caused the door leading from the stairwell into the facility’s ground floor to rattle in its frame.<br /><span> </span>“Behind me, Doc,” the sergeant said, and the dark-haired man and the corporal traded positions, the younger man reaching for the door’s handle.<span><a name='more'></a></span><br />“Wait,” the sergeant said. He hitched his duffel higher on his shoulder, and brought his long-arm into ready position, the barrel at eye level.<br /><span> </span>Another rumble sent a shiver through the building.<br /><span> </span>“Should the aftershocks be so close?” the dark-haired man asked.<br /><span> </span>“Those aren’t aftershocks,” the sergeant said, and flexed two fingers off the trigger’s guard. “Stay behind me. Move when I move.” He wagged one, then the other, and when they returned to their standby-positions on the weapon’s grip, the corporal leaned on the door’s handle, wrenching it open towards himself.<br /><span> </span>The sergeant swept the room outside once and walked with a strange bow-legged gait into the next room, the long barrel not wavering in the least as the man moved.<br /><span> </span>The dark-haired man did his best, the materials in the office storage box clutched in his hands rattling and thumping against the sides of the container as he tried to mimic the sergeant’s movements.<br /><span> </span>The corporal eased the door closed, then followed behind, standing closer to upright, but his own long-arm rifle at shoulder-height, sweeping the opposite direction of that of his sergeant.<br /><span> </span>The next tremor was followed by a distant, but audible rumbling.<br /><span> </span>“That wasn’t a quake,” the dark-hared man gasped. “That was an explosion!”<br /><span> </span>“That didn’t sound like artillery.” The corporal swallowed, audibly.<br /><span> </span>“Likely a small force of beast men managed to make it in before the shield-doors closed,” the sergeant muttered, almost to himself. He eased around a corner, and then kept the wall at his back as he scanned beyond the lobby’s floor-to-ceiling windows.<br /><span> </span>In the distance, another dull roar. A smudge of orange-yellow light lit buildings a good way off.<br /><span> </span>“Are those theirs?”<br /><span> </span>“Theirs. Ours. Doesn’t much matter, so long as we keep them nice and distant.”<br /><span> </span>“What if they—”<br /><span> </span>“You drive in to this place?”<br /><span> </span>The dark-haired man swallowed his question. “Drive? No, no. I take the lev, like just about everybody who—”<br /><span> </span>“How many stops?”<br /><span> </span>“Do you suppose the lev is even running?”<br /><span> </span>“How many stops, Doc?”<br /><span> </span>“Right. Probably not.” He hurried on before the sergeant’s sigh turned into another repetition. “Seven. No… eight. Five on the outer, and then a transfer to the—”<br /><span> </span>“They couldn’t billet you any closer?”<br /><span> </span>“I’ve been told the view from my accommodations is one of the better ones in the inner city. The walking park and pond is….”<br /><span> </span>“The park? So… Northwest quadrant?”<br /><span> </span>Was that a thin thread of hope in the sergeant’s voice?<br /><span> </span>“If the northeast garrison can keep those beasties busy," he mused, "we might just make it unnoticed.”<br /><span> </span>The dark-haired man frowned. “You mean we’re going to go back to my quarters. On foot?”<br /><span> </span>The sergeant grunted. “We need someplace safe to hole up. At least until the sun comes up.”<br /><span> </span>"If I'd known I was going to have visitors, I would have cleaned up a bit this morning."<br /><p></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-69221607118433120062023-01-02T22:27:00.000-06:002023-01-02T22:27:31.380-06:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1i_WpX4p-CSRt07DL7r6vfJ4uZd1tIxfJDzLL90iEYgMraXeqG3oq_mZ6TX9Kg6-OTYPBcYkO_c2OSkJeI1jDSFm7LyP8NHjqzmEY3SYTxM4_Z-gZpKincmthxD7HXudR6lOjZ9G0l9QUJJDYcHeIYAyJuLJ6MoJrg_sppGfWmLtMR6QcaYtJF_ufw/s350/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="350" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1i_WpX4p-CSRt07DL7r6vfJ4uZd1tIxfJDzLL90iEYgMraXeqG3oq_mZ6TX9Kg6-OTYPBcYkO_c2OSkJeI1jDSFm7LyP8NHjqzmEY3SYTxM4_Z-gZpKincmthxD7HXudR6lOjZ9G0l9QUJJDYcHeIYAyJuLJ6MoJrg_sppGfWmLtMR6QcaYtJF_ufw/w200-h125/Blackmoor_2K_Thumb.png" width="200" /></a></div><p><i>“…. Lightning Road transit is offline: Do not expect reinforcements. If you survived the Sunfire bombardment, and you have any luck left, you’ll need it: You’re on your own. The Empire will not forget your sacrifice. Message repeats….”</i><span></span><br /><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>————————<br />“Wh- what does that mean?”<br />The man’s face looked somewhat blue-ish, in the fading light from the crystalline domes atop the Lightning Road pylons. Even though the pylons’ static charge had bled off, the man’s dark hair still stood up here and there, helped along as he ran his fingers through his hair again, looking between the two uniformed men.<br /><span> </span>“It means we’re due for a very, very long walk home, Doc,” one of the soldiers said. The yellow patch on his right shoulder was slashed with three red chevrons, the bottom-most crossed by two bars.<br /><span> </span>“Through the beast man army that’s overrun the outer city,” said the other soldier. His rank insignia held a single red chevron, enclosing a stylized charging knight.<br /><span> </span>“And then its a straight shot due east to the port at Froshaven.”<br /><span> </span>“Through the beast man heartlands,” the dark-haired man moaned.<br /><span> </span>The sergeant shrugged. “Might not be much left of them, once the THRONE’s bombardment ends.”<br /><span> </span>The man swallowed, and glanced up at the ceiling.<br /><span> </span>“Relax,” the corporal said. “We’re ten deeps beneath the surface. There’s plenty of stone between us and that sky cannon.”<br /><span> </span>“Best grab that box of yours you were dead set on taking with you,” said the sergeant. He hitched his long-arm over one shoulder, then picked up his field pack and a duffel that had been lying by his feet. “It’s going to be a bit of a climb.”<p></p><p><br /><span> </span>Midway up the first flight of stairs, the first of the major quakes struck, hard enough that the three men bounced off the walls, as well as each other. The groaning of the stone around and above them echoed for an uncomfortably long time.<br /><span> </span>The dark-haired man straightened his spectacles, and glowered when the corporal pulled him back from where he’d leaned over the stairway’s railing to peer upward.<br /><span> </span>“Might not be the best idea, if another jolt hits.” <br /><span> </span>Brown eyes widened behind the lightly-dusted lenses, and the man took a fleeting glance up. From well away from the edge.<br /><span> </span>“Had to deal with quakes worse than these growing up around Starport,” the corporal said.<br /><span> </span>“Might be best if we put less of this facility above us,” the sergeant grumbled.<br /></p><p></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-71918772484367646422023-01-01T22:43:00.000-06:002023-01-01T22:43:00.379-06:00New Year's Resolution? Not quite 4K<p> Apparently there was a lot of talk about "Dungeon '23" going on on the Internet lately. Something about megadungeons and hundreds of rooms and creativity.<span></span></p><a name='more'></a>As my readership probably already knows, the <i><b>Chronicle</b></i> has been on hiatus. Life has been... well, life. And while the well of ideas hasn't run completely dry, let's just say that the bucket has had to drop quite a bit further lately to finally hit those creative waters.<p></p><p>It has been a long haul, getting that bucket back up to the top. Oh, it's slipped quite a few times. Slopped water back into that deep drop. There have been more than a few blisters raised along with that bucket, too.</p><p>So in an effort to turn those blisters into calluses, I am taking the leap and trying my hand at a year of creativity along with many fellow Dungeon Masters, but putting my own twist on this silly notion of a three hundred-plus room dungeon.</p><p>I will be undertaking something of a hex-a-day, crawling across the blasted landscape of what has newly become Mystara's frozen northern reaches in the aftermath of the cataclysmic Great Rain of Fire.</p><p>My New Year's resolution isn't 4K. It's more like 2K.</p><p>As in "Twilight:2000." Specifically, Free League Publishing and GDW's collaboration on the fourth edition.</p><p>Thorn's Chronicle will be time-slipping back, to look at Blackmoor's Year Zero.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShD16s0NpXimFSH3sPZkHuuy7Mjkb2RsFc4BN_PwrYpkG4z62eGB4QFVvnPgdIRe7HmmQKlwHzgiYlE-2mJf3VKsEQI--mBGtI_SfjC7ZXVgyCfZSdbEwbxu2auNoKw97UAFtnpuPpBU-hIqemYzGjSauxsgafZ1NV6rf5M8aLRFzVu_8fbOys_GtfQ/s601/Screen%20Shot%202023-01-01%20at%201.49.35%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="601" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShD16s0NpXimFSH3sPZkHuuy7Mjkb2RsFc4BN_PwrYpkG4z62eGB4QFVvnPgdIRe7HmmQKlwHzgiYlE-2mJf3VKsEQI--mBGtI_SfjC7ZXVgyCfZSdbEwbxu2auNoKw97UAFtnpuPpBU-hIqemYzGjSauxsgafZ1NV6rf5M8aLRFzVu_8fbOys_GtfQ/w400-h334/Screen%20Shot%202023-01-01%20at%201.49.35%20PM.png" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-45936915169398763452021-04-04T11:04:00.000-05:002021-04-04T11:04:30.517-05:00DM's Workshop: The Whispering Spider<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EuodTNN70wQ/U_jAL2XhSTI/AAAAAAAAAeg/6dwGO9aTjCgCG98lzIjPJcNK6mD0UDyGQCPcBGAYYCw/s375/D%2526D%2Bon%2BWhite.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="375" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EuodTNN70wQ/U_jAL2XhSTI/AAAAAAAAAeg/6dwGO9aTjCgCG98lzIjPJcNK6mD0UDyGQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/D%2526D%2Bon%2BWhite.png" width="320" /></a></div><p>When is a spider not a spider? Leave it in a Nithian necritorium for too long, and this is what you get.....<span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p>The whispering spider is yet another of Nithia’s attempts to create a servitor race, this one in a large, spider-like mockery of the aranea. Rather than high intelligence and affinity for magic, these creature exhibit a ferocious low cunning coupled with a venomous bite and webbing ichor that saps the will of its victims. It can be a dangerous and risky proposition to root out a whispering spider nest, as every hand that falls in the attempt is turned against the aggressors, live or dead.</p><p></p><p>Whispering spiders are large, the main body at least seven feet long, with eight spindly legs that nearly double that width. Under torchlight, they are a pasty, nearly-translucent white. But in the dark, or under darksight, they glow a pale, ghostly blue.</p><p></p><p>Their webbing gives off the same strange, pale blue werelight, some filaments so thin as to appear to be will o' wisps or swarms of fireflies. In torchlight, far from a sickly, sticky gray, whispering spider webbing has a prismatic, pearly, nearly hypnotic sheen. Its rustling-- for which the spider has been named -- sounds like a barely-understood echoing whisper. Entering an area of webbing calls for a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw to avoid becoming entangled in the thick, sticky strands. Any being so caught must make a DC 15 Wisdom save the next round or begin suffering psychic damage (as outlined below). Cuttings of webbing, properly stored (with use of an alchemy kit and a DC 15 Intelligence (Nature or Arcana) check) make for potent ingredients for various control potions, or can be added to inks used in the scribing of charm spell scrolls. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LTzq9FlX4e4/YGnhvT5GuiI/AAAAAAAAA8k/Ou4C8ejd88EOsWq2jqjVlD16d8LalT1aQCLcBGAsYHQ/s604/Huntsman_UV.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="354" data-original-width="604" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LTzq9FlX4e4/YGnhvT5GuiI/AAAAAAAAA8k/Ou4C8ejd88EOsWq2jqjVlD16d8LalT1aQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Huntsman_UV.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span></span><span style="font-size: large;">Whispering Spider</span><br /><i>Large magical beast, Unaligned</i><br /><br /> • Armor Class 16 (Natural Armor)<br /> • Hit Points 42 (7d10+7)<br /> • Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft.<br /><br /><b>STR<span> </span><span> <span> </span> </span>DEX<span> </span>CON<span> </span><span> </span>INT<span> <span> </span> </span>WIS<span> <span> </span></span>CHA<br /></b><br />15 (+2)<span> </span>16 (+3)<span> </span>12 (+1)<span> </span>5 (-2)<span> </span>11 (+0)<span> </span>4 (-3)<br /><br /> • Skills: Stealth +7, Athletics + 4<br /> • Senses: Blindsight 10 Ft., Darkvision 60 Ft., passive Perception 10<br /> • Challenge 2 (450 XP)<br /><br /> • <b>Spider Climb. </b>The spider can climb difficult surfaces, including upside down on ceilings, without needing to make an ability check.<br /> • <b>Web Sense.</b> While in contact with a web, the spider knows the exact location of any other creature in contact with the same web.<br /> • <b>Web Walker</b>. The spider ignores movement restrictions caused by webbing.<p></p><p></p><p><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Actions</b></span><br /> • <b>Bite.</b> Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature. Hit: 8(2d4 + 3) piercing damage. The target must make a DC 18 Wisdom saving throw, taking 8 (2d4+3) points of psychic damage on a success, or become poisoned on a failure. The victim is <i>charmed</i> while poisoned, but only takes 2 (1d4) points of psychic damage per round. A target reduced to 0 hit points is incapacitated, and is either dragged off to become food or a zombie-like defender of the nest.<br /> • <b> Web </b>(Recharge 5-6). Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 30/60 ft., one creature. The target is restrained by webbing. A restrained target must make a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw, taking 7 (2d6) points of psychic damage on a success, falling under the whispering spider’s <i>charm</i> on a failure. A <i>charmed</i> target is no longer restrained by the webbing, and gains the web sense and web walker traits.</p><p>As an action, the restrained target can make a DC 15 Strength check, bursting the webbing on a success. The webbing can also be attacked and destroyed (AC 15; hp 5; vulnerability to fire damage; immunity to bludgeoning, poison, and psychic damage). Note that setting the webbing ablaze inflicts as much damage to those caught in the webs. <br /><br />The lucky victims of a whispering spider’s bite or webbing become food for the nest. Those that aren’t so lucky rise up 24 hours later as a swarm zombie. A whispering spider that has control over one or more swarm zombies is known as the swarm mother.<br /></p><p><br />Swarm zombies have the same general appearance they did in life, save for a waxy pallor, and dim blue light flickering in their eyes. Bits and wisps of the scintillating, bioluminescent webbing cling to them, and a thickly tangled mass trails from the base of their spine, back into the mass of webbing that is the nest. This weblike tether only allows a swarm zombie to move within 60’ of its swarm mother. A swarm mother can direct a number of hit dice of swarm zombies equal to its own hit dice.</p><p> In addition to the usual zombie attacks, swarm zombies exhibit the following changes: <br /></p><p><br /><b>Pack Tactics</b> swarm zombies tethered to the same swarm mother gain advantage on attack rolls against a creature if at least one other zombie is within 5 feet.</p><p><br /><b>Vomitous Swarm </b>(recharge 6): Area attack. A <b>swarm of spiders</b> bursts forth from the swarm zombie’s mouth, or eyes, or from any gaping wound inflicted on it, filling a 5x5 area immediately adjacent to the zombie. Those in the area of effect take 10 (4d4) points of damage and must make a Con Save (DC 8+ the amount of damage inflicted) or be Poisoned. While poisoned, the target takes 5 (2d4) points of psychic damage, and begins to feel tingling in their extremities. A new save can be made every round, but three failed Saves in a row indicate the target is <i>charmed</i> by the nearest swarm mother. The poison damage drops to one hit point per round, and the target regards the swarm mother as its ally, whom it will defend at all cost. This <i>charm</i> is broken when the swarm mother is defeated.</p><p><br />A target reduced to 0 hit points by a vomitous swarm will rise in 24 hours as a swarm zombie, unless the corpse is burned, or the poison is neutralized with the likes of a <i>Lesser Restoration</i> spell.</p><p><br /><b>Thar she blows!</b> On reaching 0 hit points, swarm zombies burst open, releasing a swarm of spiders in a 10x10 area.<br /><br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-69480888535140878162021-03-07T09:50:00.003-06:002021-03-07T09:56:29.362-06:00Happy Alternity Game Day! <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEe_7xJnqA4/XlTZe3DGiCI/AAAAAAAAA3o/fPh2FCjN-qcSfEKOJrII9V6jtuTomfHHwCPcBGAYYCw/s500/Alternity_Sword.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="121" data-original-width="500" height="96" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEe_7xJnqA4/XlTZe3DGiCI/AAAAAAAAA3o/fPh2FCjN-qcSfEKOJrII9V6jtuTomfHHwCPcBGAYYCw/w400-h96/Alternity_Sword.png" width="400" /></a></div>Better late than never, one supposes.<span><a name='more'></a></span><p></p><p>This year, I took a look at one of the more recent additions to Thorn & company's... company: the <i>darra</i> Demarra of the Kaladreshi Darine.</p><p>The Darine are the Traladaran tribes around Achelos that fled west from the Beastman invasion. Some say the Immortals cursed them for leaving their countrymen, and it is true that misfortune befalls the Darine that attempts to settle down: crops wither, hearths go cold, livestock sickens. Some few, though, take on Zirchev's Oath, offsetting the burdens of the curse in exchange for boons which they use in service of furthering the Huntsman's Eternal Quest.</p><p>Demarra was built as a third level hero. This was just a spitball guess, as I haven't done much deep work comparing power levels between versions of the game. Sasquatch's Alternity only has ten levels, compared to Classic D&D's 36, and more modern versions' 20. So... not a newbie character by any means, but not anywhere near the height of what she might achieve.</p><p>Running through the steps of character creation for the game, we get the following:</p><p><b>1. Come up with a concept and some connections to the setting </b><br />Demarra is her clan’s darra, which translates (very) roughly to “way-finder,” in Thyatian. She is the one to whom vardo drivers defer at an unfamiliar crossroad, and determines where the clan will make camp each night. She has known Thorn since before he took that name. <br /><b><br />2. Determine your ability scores </b><br />Converting her ability scores from D&D to Alternity and then to SQuAlternity gives us the following:<br />STR 4 INT 5<br />AGI 5 FOC 4<br />VIT 4 PER 6<br /><br /><b>3. Choose a species if the setting offers nonhuman protagonists. </b><br />Demarra is a human, of Traladaran descent.<br /><br /><b>4. Pick an archetype or go freeform </b><br />SQuAlternity’s existing archetypes don’t really match what I have in mind for Demarra-as-a(n) (N)PC. As such, I went with the freeform template.<br /><b><br />5. Select your talents.</b><br />Freeform characters start with three discretionary talents from different constellations. For Demarra, I chose Martial Arts: Grappling, Dirty Fighting, and Closer. Since she is third level, she has two more talents, and I stuck with the Closer constellation, giving her Character Study and Seductive.</p><p><br /> <b>6. Assign your skill points.</b><br />Her five initial mandated skills are Hand to Hand (knives) 6(Attack), Dodge 5(Defensive), Mechanics 4(Technical), Performance 4(Social), and Survival 4(Environmental). At third level, Demarra has 25 skill points to spend on discretionary skills: Driving 4, Misdirection 4, Resilience 4, Willpower 4, Awareness 4, Coercion 2. Points were also added to give a bit of a boost to her Hand to Hand and Dodge mandated skills.<br />Because of her outgoing personality, I gave her the Leader archetype’s 1-step bonus to Social skills.</p><p><br /><b> 7. Get some gear.</b><br />Demarra’s main piece of gear is her <i>vardo</i>, which carries all of her stuff. </p><p><br /> <b>8. Take care of finishing touches like initiative and durability</b><br />20-(Agi+Foc) gives Demarra an initiative score of 11/16/21+, at +1 step</p><p><br />I translated her <i>Gift of Zirchev</i> as the Spatial Awareness mutation (Mutations are found in the Playtest draft of the rules). She always knows where she is in relation to where she’s been. She cannot be distracted, and reduces the penalty to attack a dodging opponent by two steps, and has a +2 step bonus to driving checks. <br /><br /><i>Zirchev’s Gift</i> is my reskin of Eberron’s dragonmarks: Extra little magical something to make characters interesting and unique. Initially, they are only available to the Achelos tribes of Traladarans: the branches most closely related to Zirchev. While most call it a gift, others would deem it a curse. Those who would call it such a thing, though, usually use the gift for personal gain, or counter to the gift’s intended purpose.<br />The Kaledresh tribe’s slant on the magical gifts extends to pathfinding, and easing and speeding of travel. In Classic D&D, these powers were imitated with spells as spell-like abilities, taken from the Merchant spells in Gazetteers 9 and 11.</p><p><br />Were I to cross these over to SQuAlternity, they would most likely be written up as mutations-as-talent constellations. (Ah, yet another project to add to the ever growing list….)<br /></p>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-6091983514253900192020-11-18T15:07:00.006-06:002020-11-19T08:27:34.334-06:00DM's Workshop: On the Level<p> <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dx5j2xfmOQA/UrerGjSL3qI/AAAAAAAAAY8/l-oxOvsig30ZnNqC5--Ugq-wONC-fBQkgCPcBGAYYCw/s616/ThornsCronSource.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="327" data-original-width="616" height="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dx5j2xfmOQA/UrerGjSL3qI/AAAAAAAAAY8/l-oxOvsig30ZnNqC5--Ugq-wONC-fBQkgCPcBGAYYCw/w320-h170/ThornsCronSource.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have been sitting on top of this hastily-scribbled map-with-some-barely-legible-notes for the better part of.... too many years that I care to admit.</span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><a name='more'></a></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">It depicts a certain castle, on a cliff overlooking a certain misty mere. The ground level, and two levels beneath have already been mapped, stocked, and story-fied, once in prose form, and again as a full on adventure module (both complete with typos and even a missing room!)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">But this map depicts what lies deeper still, from the age before that wizard-king created his fortress. The levels and treasures therein were actually what prompted the wizard to build his fortress atop the outcripping of the Black Peaks. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Things too dangerous for others to find, lest they be misused.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />In other words, just the sort of places you <i>don't</i> want Bargle poking around. <br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mentzer suggests that Bargle may be in league with a dragon, who might have a lair in the deeper levels beneath Castle Mistamere. If there was a dragon lairing beneath the castle in Gygar’s time, at present day, it would be well aged out of the “wyrmling” category, being closer to Basic’s “Medium” or 5e’s “Adult” age category.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />So, somewhat reluctantly, I set aside the notion of a dragon still inhabiting the caves. (Did it leave, having outgrown its lair? Was it challenged by another dragon? Was it slain by adventurers in the past? I left this up in the air, for the time being)<br /><br />Six-ish chambers were hastily scribbled for my map, and dice were rolled, to see what the Gods of Chance (or is it Lady Luck?) had to offer up as challenges for the PCs daring to explore the (ex)Wyrmling’s Lair. Since I had the Basic and Expert sets handy, I first rolled on those charts, resulting as follows:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--jBnWLjRANs/X7WKMS4B6pI/AAAAAAAAA6M/EAj-9QuALPYq8HZ4sa4KU-HvHvtgkdJHACLcBGAsYHQ/s1825/Classic_DnD_logo.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1825" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--jBnWLjRANs/X7WKMS4B6pI/AAAAAAAAA6M/EAj-9QuALPYq8HZ4sa4KU-HvHvtgkdJHACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Classic_DnD_logo.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />1. Monster, Treasure<br />2. Trap<br />3. Monster, Treasure<br />4. Monster, no treasure<br />5. Empty<br />6. Special (map change/movement)<br /><br />Rolling on the 4th level Wandering Monster table got me the following results: 6 trolls, 1 cave bear, 3 tuatara lizards.<br /><br />6 trolls…. I think I know what happened to that wyrmling dragon.<br /><br />I ran these results through the “Balancing Encounters” optional rule from the Master Set/RC. Six trolls vs. five 4th level PCs? Off the chart. The top end of the chart, at 300%. Two would be at the “Risky” level. The single cave bear is at the bottom end of the “Good Fight” range. If the PCs stumble upon the bear after the troll-fight, it may well count as the next category up. Likewise, the lizards could be either “Major” or “Risky” depending on how things go with the other two monster encounters.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />The trap indicated isn’t a mechanical or magical in nature. Rather, its a fungus growing around the stalactite column, that, if disturbed, releases a 40’40’ spore cloud. A Save vs. Paralysis is needed to avoid falling into a deep slumber for 4d4 turns. Those who make their save still feel dizzy and sluggish for the same amount of time, automatically losing initiative.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />The troll lair would yield a treasure of ~1000 gp, a medallion of ESP (30’), a staff of healing, and a potion of longevity. Either the bear or the lizards would have amassed 82 gp and a rare book (107cn in weight, worth 460gp to the right buyer)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />The map change/movement is an unstable section of sloping passage, which shifts beneath the PCs weight as they cross it, and then collapses behind them.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rolling through the “Random Dungeon Generation” charts in the 5e DMG gave me very similar results:</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g8ShPTan39g/X7WJ-euq8qI/AAAAAAAAA6I/rByOtUDT4wUaw3QnmQEH5H8XEVK1kzdDgCLcBGAsYHQ/s768/1200px-DnD_5E_logo.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="768" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g8ShPTan39g/X7WJ-euq8qI/AAAAAAAAA6I/rByOtUDT4wUaw3QnmQEH5H8XEVK1kzdDgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1200px-DnD_5E_logo.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">1. Monster<br />2. Empty, with treasure<br />3. Trap (dangerous)<br />4. Empty, with hazard<br />5. Empty<br />6 Monster<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Interestingly, a red dragon wyrmling is a CR 4 critter — which would fit a “medium” fight for a party of five 4th-level PCs. A pair of cave bears would also rank between “Easy” and “Medium.” Sticking with the “dragon would be too old” mentality above and looking at XP budgeting, I decided to replace the idea of the wyrmling with a small band of orcs and their pet worg (XPV600). They are trapped in the interior caverns by the cave bears and a collapsed passageway. Several of their number have already fallen victim to the cave bears, their remains scattered about the bears’ lair.</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />The PCs could fight them, but the orcs are hungry, and will parlay for food. They would be willing to team up with the PCs to fight the bears… but then would undoubtedly turn on the PCs once the battle swung in their favor.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />If the PCs should ask, the orcs tell them they collapsed the passage behind them, to keep what forced them here trapped below.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />The dangerous trap is an unstable crag by the first waterfall indicator, which collapses, dropping the PCs 20 feet amidst the broken and jagged rocks.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />The hazard is a cavern full of webbing, an indication of creatures found lurking further in the deeps.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">So.... two runs, one through the (almost) oldest version and another through the newest version of the game. Each tell an interesting story, neither of which really contradict much of what I'd initially planned for the level, before I set anything to paper (or... word processor).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">Which do you think works better? I'd love to see your opinions! </span></span><br /></div>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-35980043427574285812020-03-04T11:44:00.000-06:002020-03-05T12:05:50.489-06:00Happy International GM's Day!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Internet has claimed today as the day to celebrate game masters, commemorating the passing of one of the creators of RPGs as we know them, Gary Gygax. So lift a glass in honor of your GM, or DM, or Admin, Keeper... whatever you might call the fellow player who's taken up the mantle and lurks behind the screen at the end of your game table.<br />
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In rummaging through the hard drive to find my files to cobble together <a href="https://thornschronicle.blogspot.com/2020/03/alternity-game-day-2020.html" target="_blank">yesterday's entry</a> for Alternity Game Day (celebrating the passing of the original edition from publication), I stumbled across my early draft of a race for my fantasy-centric run at Sasquatch Game Studios' Alternity rules.<br />
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The Core Rulebook's Nesh might make for passable elves, and the Briith an expy dwarf. A step beyond the elves and dwarves, though, are the elusive fey. Here is my attempt to capture them through the lens of the new version of Alternity. Those of you who had access to the playtest version of the Core Rules might recognize a mutation or two...<br />
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<h2>
Sidhe </h2>
<b>Physical Description: </b>The Sidhe are creatures of unearthly beauty. Though they appear humanoid, many are taller, more slender, and generally in better physical shape than most humans. Their hair ranges from the brilliant gold of ripe wheat, to the brown of a badger’s burrow, to the black of a starless night. Their eyes take shades from the most precious of the gems so coveted by Men and Dwarves. <br />
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<b>Game Rules:</b> Sidhe are nimble, mischievous, and somewhat aloof.<br />
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<b>• Ability Scores: </b>To play a sidhe, you must have an Personality score of at least 5 and an Agility of at least 4. You cannot have a Strength higher than 4.<br />
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<b>• Alluring: </b>The sidhe’s unearthly beauty and their innate <i>glamour</i> grants them a +2 step bonus on Personality-based skill checks against others. In addition, NPCs subject to their allure begin with an interaction attitude 1 step better than normal as long as they aren’t actively hostile. This also has the detriment of imposing a -2 step penalty to Manipulation skill checks.<br />
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<b>• Invisibility: </b>A Sidhe may tighten its hold on its <i>glamour</i>, rendering itself invisible at will. If motionless, they are completely invisible to normal sight (though they can still be detected by thermal vision). If they move, or are observed through secondary means (security cameras, for example), they must succeed a Stealth check at a +4 step bonus to escape visible detection.<br />
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<b><b>• </b>Tech Nos: </b>The Sidhe’s <i>glamorous aura </i>wreaks havoc on all things high tech. Such items take 1d10/2d8 energy damage at a range of 1m/personal.<br />
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<b>• Vulnerable to Iron: </b>Sidhe cannot abide the touch of iron, and take damage over time if forced to wear more than a few ounces of it next to their skin. Damage inflicted by iron weapons deals an extra wound box (two extra on a Stellar hit), and takes twice as long to heal.<br />
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<b>Species Talents:</b> Sidhe have exclusive access to the Glamorous Aura talent constellation:<br />
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✭<b>Glamorous Aura:</b> Command of your <i>glamorous aura</i> is such that you make it difficult for opponents to target you: Hand to Hand attacks suffer a one step penalty, and ranged attacks take an additional two steps’ penalty.<br />
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<b>Fascinate:</b> You can overwhelm someone with the sheer intensity of your stare. To fascinate someone, make a Coercion skill check; the target then counters your success with a Willpower check. If your attempt succeeds, the target is stunned for 3 impulses, after which he can attempt to resist each impulse by succeeding on a Willpower check. You must be within Close range to fascinate a target, and if the target is actively hostile he gains a +3 step bonus on his Willpower check to counter the effect. The fascinate effect ends automatically if the target takes damage.<br />
<b><br />↳Commanding Presence: </b>You can attempt to fascinate up to five individuals within Close range.<br />
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<b>Improved Invisibility:</b> You become invisible even to thermal sensors. Your penalty to Manipulation checks is reduced by one step.RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-90703576616442578402020-03-03T11:26:00.000-06:002020-03-03T11:26:03.063-06:00Alternity Game Day 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Varis charged. We cursed. The kobolds atop the walls barked curses of their own. The girls and the whelps screamed. Their orderly file towards the keep’s doors turned to a headlong dash.</span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br />The kobold sentries did, indeed, see Varis as a threat. He was greeted with barking shouts from the tops of the walls, and the sharp “crack, snap!” of discharging crossbows.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />There were decidedly more than the six or so Gilliam had guessed at with his quick glance into the courtyard. Six bolts alone seemed to spring up in the dust raised by Varis’ boots. One thudded into his upraised shield, while another two broke against the large huddle of stone towards which the warrior charged for cover.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />That looked to’ve been part of the keep’s upper floor, tumbled into the courtyard, not yet completely swallowed by the ground or worn away by the countless seasons of rain and snow. Hugging the keep’s wall along the inside would only shelter us from two or three attackers, at most. The jumble of half-sunken blocks was our best bet for any sort of cover.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />“Go!” Gilliam urged us, and sent one of the kobolds tumbling from the wall, a grey-feathered arrow in its throat. That gave the rest enough pause that Ana and I could dash for the stones.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Another storm of bolts peppered the courtyard around us, but fortunately, the early morning’s sunlight was enough to hamper the kobolds’ efforts.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />“Distract them,” Varis said, adjusting the grip on his shield. “I’m going for the stairs.” And he was off again, shield held overhead. How he could run under the weight of that jangling metal was beyond me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I called forth a gout of Druidic flame, and hurled it towards the top of the wall Varis charged. It fell short, splashing against the stones halfway up. Beside me, I heard Ana mutter a prayer, and then a curse. Whatever it was she’d tried had likewise failed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Gilliam sucked in a slow breath as he drew grey fletching to his cheek. As he let it out, his fingers relaxed, and another kobold toppled. If the arrow in the leg hadn’t hit the artery, then the fall from the wall surely did the creature in.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Bolts cracked and struck sparks off the stairs to either side of Varis. One even lodged in his mail shirt, but he shook it loose, redoubling his efforts, taking the steps two at a time.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I lobbed another sphere of Druidic flame, and Ana repeated her prayer. Her brow furrowed, but a slight smile quirked her lips, and she repeated the Alphatian chant, her eyes intent on the kobolds to our left, atop the wall above the gates. They looked as if the were trying to scamper through mud, their teeth bared as they hauled at their crossbows as if the things were made of stone rather than wood.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Gilliam loosed another arrow, but sucked in a sharp breath, ducking down too late to avoid taking a bolt in the arm.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />“Leave it!” he hissed, as I reached to yank the quarrel free. “It’ll only bleed more.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Varis had reached the top of the stairs, and charged the closest kobold as it hauled at its crossbow’s draw mechanism. The warrior skewered the thing just as it was bringing up its weapon to fire.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Gilliam cursed as he drew and loosed an arrow. The motion was rushed, and he barely touched fletching to his cheek before he loosed the arrow, taking out the second kobold in Varis’ path before the creature could finish aiming.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />The kobolds’ barking climbed in pitch, and instead of more bolts whizzing from the opposite wall, we saw three of them clambering hastily down another ruined stairway, scuttling out of sight around the corner of the keep.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />The two kobolds atop the gates weren’t giving up though, struggling against Ana’s magical hold on them. They loosed their crossbows in our direction, but the shafts flew wide.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Ana’s chant broke off as Varis finished off the two, and she gulped at her waterskin. I hadn’t failed to notice that her voice had been starting to fray about the edges.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />She reached past me, and slapped Gilliam’s hand as he was about to pul the bolt from his upper arm.<br />“I was going to—“</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />“You were going to make it worse,” she said. She rummaged in her pack, and pulled out a slender wooden box. Inside was a variety of cubbies and niches, containing bottles or parchment- or linen-wrapped bundles. She picked through them, sprinkling a few ingredients into a small mortar and pestle, added a splash of water from a small vial, and ground the concoction into a paste. She moistened a cloth from yet another vial, and pressed it around the edges of the bolt’s shaft. Gilliam’s sharp hiss turned into a cry that he bit down on as she yanked the quarrel free. Red darkened the cloth as she pressed it hard against the wound.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />“Thorn, can you conjure that fire again?”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />A small effort of will, and I filled my palm with a flickering spout of fire. More than a candle, but less than, say, a torch.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Ana held a long, silvery needle in the flame, turning it this way and that, until the tip took on a low orange glow.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />“What… what are you going to do with that?” Gilliam asked. His voice cracked and he licked his lips nervously.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />“Don’t worry, this will only hurt for a little bit,” Ana said.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />“No, I’m fine, I think—“</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />“Ah, just in time,” Ana said, as Varis’ shadow fell across us. “I’ll need you to hold Gilliam’s arm still. And once I am finished here, I’ll check you to make sure that quarrel you took didn’t do something similar.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Varis rotated his sword arm. “It didn’t go through. Feels a bit bruised. No need to trouble yourself.”<br />Was it my imagination, or was his reassurance a bit too hasty….?</span></span><br />
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<br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Granted, one combat scene is really not enough to weigh an entire liking or disliking of a game. However, it did bring some aspects of the game to light that I hadn’t given much thought on a pure read-through of the rulebook.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />I’ll be the first to admit that I was heavily disappointed when I saw that Sasquatch had seen fit to invert the core mechanic. It still doesn’t sit right with me, and seems to invite d20’s problems of ludicrous numbers. This is somewhat mitigated by the fact that the dice will only add up to so much, and there are only ten levels. But still. I miss “lower-is-better” and the internal logic of stat-plus-rank/half/quarter. And “Average/Excellent/Stellar” just feels like they fished through the thesaurus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />Sasquatch’s take on the durability track is novel. I like it… but it doesn’t feel like Alternity to me. It doesn’t feel quite as robust as the original. Debility is all well and good, but it feels “tacked on,” rather than inline like stun/wound/mortal/fatigue was in the original.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />I know people lamented that armor in original Alternity wasn’t good enough (“Waah, it only stopped one point of damage!”). Armor in the new version, though, seems too good, especially with them doing away with secondary damage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />So, enough about what irked me about the new system. What did I like?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />Much as I missed the Marginal, Ordinary, Good, and Amazing phases, I like how the Impulse Track “flowed.” When you acted next depended on your previous action. If you want to do bunches of “minor” actions within the round, you could do that. Similarly, if you sank all your effort into one concentrated attack, that was going to suck up a lot of your options within the eight impulse round. One minor nitpick, though, was that you sort of had to dig through the rules to see how to work out how to do two things simultaneously — if you could at all, because some of those seemed to be relegated to Talents, some of which need quite a bit of investment to finally get to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />Psionics. The closest thing they put into the rules for magic was surprisingly robust. Despite having so few options to choose from, what could be done with those options and rules covered a fair bit of territory. It was a tight bit of writing and gamewrighting. Doing away with fiddly energy points was nice, in that it made actually using those powers more palatable of an option, and the implementation of psionic effort balanced by the fatigue check put a check on the notion of going Nova every round. I liked that many of the psionic skills had “normal” and “effort” options. Those that didn’t, I tinkered a bit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />Ana, for instance, used Psychokinesis to attempt restraining pair of kobolds, in lieu of D&D’s Hold Person spell. That spell can either be targeted at an individual or group. Burning effort, I decided, would allow her to target multiple kobolds, and I tacked on the burst mechanic (-1 step per extra target). Fortunately, she rolled high enough on the control die, and got lucky with low rolls on the situational penalties. Also, she rolled high on her follow-up fatigue checks. The rules weren’t clear on sustaining effects, so I simply went with “lather, rinse, repeat” on her next turn.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />I wish more skills made use of the effort/fatigue mechanic.</span>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-75152601878560066882020-02-25T02:12:00.001-06:002020-02-25T02:23:59.714-06:00Alternity Game Day 2020: Prelude<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEe_7xJnqA4/XlTZe3DGiCI/AAAAAAAAA3k/oWxOu9gm7LwoJeYWM4AQyX0qS9ZHYHjhQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Alternity_Sword.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="122" data-original-width="500" height="77" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eEe_7xJnqA4/XlTZe3DGiCI/AAAAAAAAA3k/oWxOu9gm7LwoJeYWM4AQyX0qS9ZHYHjhQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Alternity_Sword.png" width="320" /></a></div>
A number of years ago, I decided to convert some of the opening arc of Thorn’s Chronicle into an actual <a href="http://www.pandius.com/thorns_c.html">play-it-at-your-table adventure</a> for my fellow D&D and Mystara fans. But as I’ve always loved the Alternity Science Fiction Roleplaying Game, I <a href="https://www.alternityrpg.net/resources.php?cat=adventures&rid=1711&detail=1">concurrently developed</a> the adventure for that system as well, with the help of fan generated conversions of (A)D&D creatures courtesy of <a href="https://www.alternityrpg.net/resources.php?cat=fantasy">Red Dragon’s Alternity Fantasy conversion rules</a>.<br />
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Many years have passed, and <a href="https://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/245263/Alternity-Core-Rulebook" target="_blank">a new version</a> of Alternity has been written by Sasquatch Game Studio. As is my usual modus operandi for learning a new system, I got a handle on most of the rules during character creation (or, in this case, something of a conversion) for last year's Alternity Game Day, cooking up versions of <a href="http://thornschronicle.blogspot.com/2019/03/happy-dms-day-and-belated-alternity.html#more" target="_blank">the four core heroes</a> from Thorn's Chronicle.<br />
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This year, I took a closer look at the gameplay mechanics, running those heroes through a rough conversion of the opening encounter. I was pleasantly surprised by the flexibility of the newer ruleset, despite the fact that it is still missing any sort of fantasy or arcane expansion.<br />
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And, of course… the writer in me couldn’t resist translating those die rolls and notes scratched across several handfuls of index cards into something resembling a narrative. A “what if..?”… the Chronicle’s heroes had approached Threshold from the south, and seen the notices tacked up in the marketplace, and heard the town criers, over the ringing of their brass bells, entreating those of the adventurous sort to make haste to Tarnskeep, where the Baron offered reward for those brave enough to seek out the answers to the mysteries beneath Castle Mistamere, and in the dark beneath the caves in the Black Peaks….<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>“Wait!” Gilliam hissed, grabbing Varis’ shoulder as the man made to charge the rubble-filled gap in the ancient castle walls.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />The bigger warrior tried to shake off the archer’s grip, but Gilliam held firm.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />“They’re in there! You heard them!”</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />“I did,” the archer said, “and I also heard the yapping.”</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />“Kobolds?” Ana asked, beside me.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />I nodded, though she hadn’t directed the question at me specifically. Though I knew the sound and shape of their words, I didn’t know the ways of their speech.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />“Probably the only thing worse than a goblin,” Varis spat.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />“And twice as paranoid,” Gilliam said. “Hold here, and let me scout out the situation. The last thing we want to do is go charging in blind. Remember Tucker’s Folly.”</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />The muscles along Varis’ jaw bunched, even as his face paled a bit. He made the Sign of the Three, and glanced upward, his lips moving in a silent prayer.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />Gilliam peeked over the lip of the ridge, then hauled himself over the edge into the low scrub growing along the plateau on which Gygar’s castle was situated.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Gilliam doesn’t have the Stealth skill, which is unfortunate: the Survivor archetype grants a +1 step bonus to Environmental skills. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />The low scrub provides some cover (not much, but combined with the archer’s mottled green and brown cloak, enough to grant a +1 step bonus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />Gilliam’s player rolls 1d20+1d4 for the check, needing 15 or better for an Average success.<br />His player rolls…. An 18 plus 3, totaling 21. This beats his untrained score by five, for an Excellent success!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>The kobolds atop the wall, distracted as well as under daylight conditions, roll Failures on their Awareness checks.</i><br /><br /><i>If I hadn’t seen him moving, I certainly never would’ve heard Gilliam’s approach. He pressed his back to wall, and craned his neck to peer over the rubble pile that was nearly his height. I saw the man do a double-take, as if he did not believe what he saw, and as he shook his head, he gestured for us to approach, followed by a finger to his lips.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />We cautiously made our way through the scrub, to Gilliam’s side. As we did, the sounds of activity grew clearer: the girls were there, all right: we could hear them shouting and… laughing? There came a high shriek, but it was edged with mirth, rather than fear.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />“No fair!” one shouted. “He was ghoul-touched, but had another three counts before he rose! He shouldn’t have been able to tag me yet!”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />This was followed by a yammering of voices, girlish as well as the piping guttural of kobold whelps.<br />“We’ll reset. Everybody back five paces, and we’ll play again! Agreed?”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />There was disappointed grumbling mixed with chirps of agreement.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />I saw Varis’ hand relax on his sword hilt as this exchange took place. A half hand taller than Gilliam, he could see over the rubble a bit easier, and his clouded expression melted from concern to one of puzzlement.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />“Ghoul tag….” His voice was hardly more than a breath, as we all leaned close for a hushed conference. “Half a dozen girls, and as many whelps, and they’re playing Ghoul tag.”<br />Ana’s frown no doubt matched my own. What in the Hell of Stone were these vanished girls doing playing at tag with a pack of kobold young?</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The players decide they need more information. Varis and Gilliam’s players declare they will survey the situation within the keep walls.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />Doing so quietly makes it a bit more difficult than usual, and they can only catch a few glimpses or risk being discovered. The GM rules that they’ll be at a -3 step penalty to their checks. Varis’ player reminds the GM that kobolds are sensitive to sunlight. Grumbling, the GM reduces the penalty a step. Before Varis’ player can roll, though, Ana’s speaks up:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />“You put all Varis’ skill points into his sword arm. Ana has points in Awareness. Let her take a look instead.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />The heroes shuffle positions by the gap in the wall, and Gilliam and Ana roll their respective Awareness checks, Gilliam at -1 step, and Ana at -2 steps: a 15 for Gilliam (getting an extra 1-step bonus due to his Survivor archetype, who needed 12 or better)… and… a -4 vs Ana’s 11+.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />“What was that about Varis being oblivious?” Varis’ player quips.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Two on the eastern wall, at least two above us, and probably two more on the west,” Gilliam whispered. “And… something shining from the keep’s doorway. Ana, did you…?”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />She was still blinking, rubbing at her eyes. The clouds had drifted past just as she glanced in, flooding the courtyard in morning sunlight… which also streamed right into Ana’s ice-blue eyes.<br /> </span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Now I know how those kobolds must feel,” she muttered.<br /><br />“So how are we to go about rescuing them?” Varis asked.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />“Do they even need rescuing?” Ana asked.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />“What if we just knock on the gate, and ask if we can play, too?”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />We all glanced at Gilliam, who shrugged.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Something wasn’t right. Granted, kobolds aren’t much of a threat, but they are vicious, cunning little dog-men. Did they know we were here, and set this as some elaborate trap for us..? How by the stars did they secure the girls’ cooperation, if that were the case?</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Varis and Gilliam were both getting restless, and the furrow of Ana’s brow was only growing more pronounced as she chewed her lip in thought. I was about to suggest we give Gilliam’s jest of a suggestion serious thought, when a clear, sweet chime rang out, from within the courtyard.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />All activity stopped, voices hushing in mid-sentence or laugh. The girls stood, motionless, arms slack at their sides, all looking in the direction of the keep’s doorway, from which a bright, clear light shone, illuminating a tall, bearded figure in black — or maybe brown — robes.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Glimmers of light at each of the girls’ throats answered that of the strange device the bearded figure held, and the girls began to move in unison, falling into line beside the kobold whelps, the two lines then walking slowly — eerily — across the courtyard, to the keep’s door.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />“We need to move!” Varis hissed.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Again, Gilliam grabbed the warrior’s arm. “The sentries! What if they target the girls?”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />“I’ll just make sure they see me as the bigger threat!” Varis shook off the archer’s grip, drew his sword, and clambered over the rubble.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />“Flame take him!” Ana sighed. “Come on, he’s going to need us to keep from becoming a porcupine!”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />The GM grins, and grabs a handful of dice. “Roll for initiative!”</span>RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-67034129216810524562019-08-28T13:14:00.001-05:002019-08-28T13:15:23.183-05:00Handmaidens of Petra: Equal Measure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Jasna shifted her gaze, blue eyes narrowing as she met the woman’s cold, emerald eyes.<br />
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<i>I see you for what you are,</i> she thought. Did the woman’s eyes widen, ever so slightly? The girl drew breath to speak.<br />
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Before she could set words to breath, Morana interjected. “I am certain that she sees what I do, Your Majesty.”<br />
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A weight lifted from Jasna’s mind as the woman turned her attention to the other Handmaiden. The mild annoyance in the queen’s expression only deepened.<br />
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Jasna opened her mouth, but Morana flicked a glance her way, past the queen, making the slightest of shakes of her head.<br />
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Jasna swallowed her retort.<br />
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“Blood of Achelos?” the queen’s purr rose ever so slightly in pitch, betraying her certainly. Her eyes moved, and she spoke over Jasna’s head. “I spent considerable resources ensuring those of your line escaped the predations of Flaghr’s van, on the condition that they only return bearing that which you stole from Us. You dare to break that oath, and steal from Us yet again? Do you think me blind?”<br />
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“If Your Majesty will recall," Zirchev said, "I never actually accepted those terms.”<br />
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“We told you if you stood before us again without that which you stole, it would be your end.”<br />
<br />
“And yet, here I stand. Unfinished. Your Majesty is certainly true to Her word. I am prepared, at last, to accept Your Majesty’s most gracious offer.”<br />
<br />
“What makes you think Our offer is even still at table?”<br />
<br />
“I did not refuse it, and Your Majesty has not revoked it.”<br />
<br />
“It has been…. More than a score of your winters since.”<br />
<br />
“An offer such as you extended is nothing to be entered into lightly, Your Majesty, and bears much thoughtful consideration. What are a mere twenty two winters, to one as timeless as Yourself?”<br />
<br />
“Our lifespan is near infinite, Huntsman. Our patience is not.” Greenish gold tendrils of liquid-like flame writhed over the slightly hooked fingers of the Queen’s left hand.<br />
<br />
“Before I accept,” Zirchev continued, his tone still aloof, nearly… was it mirthful..? “Would Your Majesty care to renegotiate?”<br />
<br />
Greenish-gold eyes narrowed, then widened, slit-like pupils widening. The queen tipped back Her head and gave a throaty laugh.<br />
<br />
Far from mirthful, it was — much like the Queen Herself — a thing of equal measures beauty and terror.RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-63435647951574329832019-03-04T13:48:00.000-06:002019-03-04T19:50:50.067-06:00Happy DM's Day, and belated Alternity Game DayWhat is it they say about March…? Something about it coming in like a lion? I don’t know about roaring, but it sure did sneak up on me.<br />
<br />
The corner of the internet I hang out on does this thing, GM’s Day (March 4th). And the corner of the corner of the corner has another day of remembrance, then day before: March 3rd is Alternity Game Day, commemorating Wizards of the Coast’s shuttering of the Alternity Generic Science Fiction Role Playing Game line.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Sasquatch Game Studios recently brought the system back, with a slick, modern look and mechanics overhaul. It’s not a second edition, but a nod, an homage to the original, written by several of the original designers.<br />
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The shadow of the original system is there, but the new Alternity hasn’t usurped the place of the original in my heart. The core book doesn’t cover as much ground as the (two-book) original system. Several key “modules” are missing for me to get the system to work the way I’d like.<br />
<br />
Granted, most of what I like doing with the system is to play mostly not-science fiction with it. Still, I’ve given the rules as complete a read-through as my spare time and days off allow, and combined that with a hefty bout of character creation. As I did with W.O.I.N., I gave the Chronicle heroes a run through the 2017 Alternity character creation steps to see what they might look like in that system.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Dhz2PXLwPA/XH1_ie6YwVI/AAAAAAAAA00/z0TH2ABXW5QSM5cxtvraAXpr5rBwefkuACLcBGAs/s1600/thorn_group_concept.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Dhz2PXLwPA/XH1_ie6YwVI/AAAAAAAAA00/z0TH2ABXW5QSM5cxtvraAXpr5rBwefkuACLcBGAs/s320/thorn_group_concept.png" width="320" /></a></div>
You can grab the compiled Alternity 2017 Character Sheet PDFs for Varis, Gilliam, Thorn, and Ana <a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/xdwda5r28y3s14z/Alt2017_Chronicle_PCs.pdf?dl=0" target="_blank">here</a>. (Note the slick throwback to the original (if cloned) fonts)RobJNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240029308775902561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8964105651400666742.post-27270954913446558312018-09-20T08:12:00.001-05:002018-09-20T08:18:26.897-05:00DM's Workshop: Katarin gets OLD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x6QYlQMGNOw/W42XShNU7uI/AAAAAAAAAzM/8Z1Ewu5j9SYhweS7RH8oXQ16UXEIirXDACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/WOIN_CPScropped.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="148" data-original-width="800" height="36" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x6QYlQMGNOw/W42XShNU7uI/AAAAAAAAAzM/8Z1Ewu5j9SYhweS7RH8oXQ16UXEIirXDACPcBGAYYCw/s200/WOIN_CPScropped.png" width="200" /></a></div>
This week marks a first glance at crossing over the Spheric Weaving from the Alphtatians over to the What's O.L.D. is N.E.W. system.<br />
<a name='more'></a>In many ways, WOIN's freeform [skill]+[secret] system of casting is a good fit for the fluid, open-ended nature of plucking at the cast-off Spheric threads.<br />
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There is still a lot to hammer out, but our iconic Novice, Katarin, will no doubt help guide us.<br />
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><i>A brilliant human female weaver who collects bird feathers.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Follow these steps to create your character: </span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QBnLzSEBuHs/T_XHl2R8HcI/AAAAAAAAAHU/Y_2Biy4mUXk0v1BG97ptAnasxcT_VcrEgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Katarin_cutoutBW.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="316" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QBnLzSEBuHs/T_XHl2R8HcI/AAAAAAAAAHU/Y_2Biy4mUXk0v1BG97ptAnasxcT_VcrEgCPcBGAYYCw/s200/Katarin_cutoutBW.png" width="123" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>1. Note your starting attributes</i> </b>(each attribute starts at 3, except for Magic and Reputation, each of which start at 0). </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>2. Choose a race.</i></b> Katarin is human.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>a)Apply race attribute adjustments.</i> Humans receive +2 to LUC, +2 to one attribute of their choice, and +1 to another attribute; Katarin is a pretty girl, and takes +2 to her CHA; she is also the daughter of the town’s Wisdom; with magic in her blood, she takes +1 to MAG</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>b) Note your Size.</i> Katarin is Medium<br />
<i>c) Choose three racial skills</i>.<i> medicine, climbing, running<br />
d) Note all the listed race exploits</i>. <b>Explorer, Varied, Enduring</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Choose a hook, and note it in your descriptor</i></b>. Katarin collects bird feathers</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>a) Choose one attribute related to that hook</i>; this is called your hook attribute. LOG?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Choose five careers. Start with an origin, and then select four further careers. </i></b>Katarin is a special case, getting all four careers, as she has recently begun her training as a Novice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Origin</i>. Acolyte, Farmhand, Noble, Page, Primitive, Slave, Urchin, Villager, <b>Wizard’s Apprentice </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Katarin did not grow up like the others in her small village. Being the Wisdom’s daughter, it was assumed that she would eventually take her mother’s place, and began her Apprenticeship early. The <b>Wizard’s Apprentice</b> origin is close enough: Each of her INT, LOG, MAG, and REP increase by one point. She picks up the magical <i>healing</i> skill, learns <i>herbal(ism)</i> lore, and the <b>Prestidigitation</b> exploit, unknowingly using small displays of magical prestidigitation at will to assist her with day-to-day inconveniences. Age: 8</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>For each career grade, do the following:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>a) Apply all of the listed attribute adjustments. Note that you may optionally substitute either one of your racial attributes or your hook attribute for one of the listed attributes. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>b) Choose two of the listed skills and advance each by one point. Note that characters may always select a defensive skill instead of a listed skill. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>c) Choose one new career exploit from the list shown or choose one universal exploit. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>d) Roll for the number of years your character ends at that career grade and increase your age (your age starts at zero). </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Katarin accompanied her mother on her rounds, both among the villagers, but also helped gathering and preparing the various poultices, philters, and draughts. <b>Herbalist</b> gives her +1 to LOG, INT, WIL, and LUC. Her <i>herbalism</i> lore increases, as did her knowledge of basic <i>medicine</i>. An able study, she can create a <b>Healing Herb</b> concoction, restoring 1d6 Health to an ally as long as she has her herbalist kit with her. A given creature can benefit from this just once per day. (And Brynne would thump her if she ever referred to her friends as ‘creatures.’)Age: 9</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She furthers her Herbalist studies, becoming more <i>perceptive</i> of her surroundings, and of <i>nature</i> itself. She expands her herbal remedies to <b><i>Alleviate Condition. </i></b>So long as she carries her herbalism kit,<b><i> </i></b>she can automatically devise an herbal concoction to relieve any condition (stunned, blinded, and so on) by mixing the herbs on hand, and adding additional components from the surroundings. It takes two actions (a full turn) and reduces any non-permanent status track by one stage. Age: 10</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Her field work soon gave way to sit-down study in her mother’s extensive library, mastering its lore. As a <b>Loremaster</b>, she gains LOG +2, WIL +1, MAG +1. She focuses her studies on furthering her knowledge of <i>medicine</i> and <i>healing. </i>Others soon learn to listen to her <b><i>Wise Counsel. </i></b>Spending two actions to offer advice and counsel gives one ally within 30' a +2d6 bonus to a single attribute check. Any given target can only benefit from this once per day. Age: 11</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Only very recently has she begun formal tutelage, under a Magia from the Tower of Seven Lights. Her study of the Alphatian method of weavecraft gives her MAG +1, LOG +1, WIL +1, REP +1. She focuses her studies on <i>spellcraft</i> and <i>calligraphy</i>. Her <b><i>Arcane Knowledge Base</i></b> includes <i>abjuration, compulsion, hexes, movement,</i> and the <b><i>secret of the Sphere of Thought (Elemental Air)</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>5. Select Aim, Feint or Focus (free universal exploits) plus one other exploit of your choice for which you qualify. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Katarin takes the <b>Focus</b> exploit (spending one action focusing grants +1d6 to a spell cast in the same round)</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">, as well as </span><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Arcane Secret</b><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> exploit. She learns the</span><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> Secret of Person/Other</i></b><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>6. Choose one trait based on your highest or lowest attribute and note that in your descriptor. </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">With her high LOGIC, Katarin takes the <b>Brilliant</b> trait. Because of her honed, sharp, and analytical mind, once per day she may replace any other attribute check with a LOG check.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>7. Determine your age and apply any age exploits.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Katarin is 12, which qualifies her as young. The <b>Young</b> exploit allows her to declare (once per day) an exploding dice pool. Any 6s rolled explode, meaning they are rolled again and added the existing 6. Further 6s continue to explode, until less than a 6 is rolled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>8. Calculate your derived statistics.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Derived Stats: Her dice pools look like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: black;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 44px;" valign="top"><span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">Attribute</span></td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 23px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>STR</b></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>AGI</b></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>END</b></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>INT</b></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>LOG</b></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>WIL</b></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>CHA</b></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>LUC</b></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>REP</b></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #bec0bf; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>MAG</b></span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="background-color: #e3e4e4; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 44px;" valign="top"><span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>Attribute</b></span></td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 23px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">3</span></div>
</td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">3</span></div>
</td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">3</span></div>
</td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">6</span></div>
</td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">9</span></div>
</td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">7</span></div>
</td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">6</span></div>
</td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">8</span></div>
</td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">2</span></div>
</td><td style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 14px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">4</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="background-color: #e3e4e4; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 44px;" valign="top"><span style="color: black; font-family: "avenir"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>Pool</b></span></td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 23px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">2d6</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">2d6</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">2d6</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">3d6</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">3d6</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">3d6</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">3d6</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">3d6</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 33px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">1d6</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: #efefef; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); height: 13px; padding: 4px; width: 34px;" valign="top"><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">2d6</span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Katarin’s skills:</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>medicine3 (2d6), climbing(1d6), running (1d6), herbalism2 (1d6), perception (1d6), nature (1d6), spellcraft (1d6), abjuration (1d6), compulsion (1d6), healing2 (1d6), hexes (1d6), illusion (1d6)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Health</b> END+WIL pools: 2d6 HEALTH</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Magic Points</b> 3xMAG 12 MP; she can enhance a spell up to 4MP</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Speed</b> STR pool size+AGI pool size+running = 5 Climb STR+AGI+climbing/2 = 3</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Jump</b> (horizontal 2xAGI(attribute itself, in feet)/vertical STR(attribute itself, in feet))</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">6’/3’ (assumes 10’ run-up; halved if standing)</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Carry </b>STR+ENDx10 60 lbs</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Maximum lift 50xSTR 150 lbs</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Initiative</b> INT dice pool 3d6</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Perception</b> INT dice pool (+ <i>perception</i>) 4d6</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Defenses</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">MELEE (AGI) 2d6 = 10</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">RANGED (AGI) 2d6 10</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">MENTAL (CHA or WIL) 3d6 11</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">VITAL (END) 2d6 10</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>9. Spend money to equip your character with armor, weapons, and equipment</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Katarin doesn’t own much, just the clothes on her back, her herbalism kit, and one of the dozen pendants shared by the Handmaidens. A belt pouch and 15 gc completes her equipment. (The pendant allows its wearer to understand High Thonian. If anointed with a drop of the wear’s blood, the pendant allows an hour’s communication with any who share the same group of pendants, regardless of distance, as long as they are on the same plane of existence)</span></div>
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