#he knocks all my dice off the table. evil creature

[pigeon-butch]

a d20 has been sacrificed to appease the beast

#he knocks all my dice off the table. evil creature #my dm was kind enough to let him roll his own initiative in combat however #quinn #pigeon #bird

[sepiadice]

DiceJar Campaign 0.1: A Slippery Slope (2020/01/03)

So I return to the mighty throne of the GM Screen! To pull the strings, interpret the weavings of fate, mold the world to my whims and desires!

However, I’m going from a module, namely Crypt of the Everflame, made famous by Trix’s adventures. So I’m treading old ground, though with fewer players, and only one returning from that adventure. The better part of a decade has passed since I played it, so plenty of details should’ve left the veterans.

The reason I’m playing out of the module is as a sort of learning experience: Viewing box text and published adventure design so that it may help develop my original adventures. As for why I chose this one: I really like the opening premise. New young adventures thrown together deliberately for their origin story. Often players get focused on making an exciting backstory that they forget to make what happens at the table be the most interesting part of their life. I think it’s charming.

It’s an element/theme I want to incorporate in future campaigns.

Anyways, how will the tomb dive go without Team Pesto?

Cast

Mogui (IndigoDie): A Hedge Mage for a Lord Grey. Essentially a living lawn ornament. He helps take care of the Lord’s menagerie. Sole repeat player of the Module.

Bernard ‘Bean’ Dipp (NavyDie): Still just a child, but his father is (supposedly) suffering polio, so young Bean needs to become the man of the house. GM of the campaign I just finished. Revenge time?

Yot (LimeDie): A traveling mercenary slash adventurer nevertheless being pulled into things because some players struggle with direction. Player is a vetran of an Improv club Navy and I were also members of.

Delilah Dunford (VermilionDie): The unruly daughter of the local snobby nobles. Roguish interests and talents. Player is also from my high school days, but not the High School game group.

Game Master (SepiaDie/Me): Everyone and thing else. Nervous wreck caught in his own head. Attended a High School once and participated in a college Improv Club.

Session One

I failed to change any proper nouns like I wanted, but I also avoided needing to say anyone’s names, so there’s still time.

There’s an immense backstory I summarized, because it was too long for me to read out and I can’t trust players to read.[1] Kassen is a town that evolved out of a hold built by a guy named Kassen, a soldier turned adventurer. One day, he went to fight an evil band of… bad people. Kassen succeeded, but succumbed to injuries taken. He was entombed in a crypt, where an eternal flame was lit. Every year, the mayor rides out to bring back a lantern lit by the flame to bless the town to survive the winter. Every couple of years, town youths are sent instead as a rite of passage.

This is one of the rite of passage years.

The mayor first meets with Mogui, a lonely mage working for one of the town’s two noble families. The mayor awkwardly stumbles through his invitation, which Mogui gladly accepts.

Next, the Mayor finds Bean waiting in the market square. The mayor, again, stumbles through his invitation, which Bean seems rather confused by the semantics of, needing to be specifically told not to just wait in the town center for two days but to come back on the actual day of departure.

Yot is found in a tavern, and attempts to talk a big game as the Mayor asks him to join the adventuring party. I still need to force a firmer connection between Yot and the town of Kassen, as my original plan of Yot belonging to what once was Kassen’s band of mercenaries was sunk before I could work it in.

Delilah pops up from behind the Mayor as he’s on his way to her family’s manor, and she eagerly joins the quest.[2]

Thus is our party arranged!

Two days later, at the predetermined time, they walk into the market square and I gently prompt them to give physical descriptions of their characters. Delilah is described as having slightly asymmetrical dark hair, while the rest focused more on height and relative ages.[4]

Mogui arrives with some sort of bipedal creature. Indigo didn’t actually know what he intended the creature to be, so I’m going to assume it’s a chocobo until gently corrected.[5] Everyone promptly forgot about it, even though it supposedly was following them.

The four mingle for a bit as I lost focus trying to recenter myself and review the next step. I tend to let my players just fill time until they get bored of their scene. I probably should work on keeping a good pace with the plot, but I also don’t want to step on their fun. It’s a difficult balance, especially if there’s no NPC handy to gently snark at them to move forward.

The bells of the Church of Polyhymnia[6] ring in the noontime.

The townspeople, dressed in blacks and other dark clothing, start to form a crowd around our adventurers. The mayor emerges with an old pony pulling a cart of supplies. He distributes backpacks to the adventurers, gives a prepared speech,[8] and sends our young heroes on their way.

Mixed into their supplies is a fourth of a map that, at an actual table, is supposed to be a real piece of paper torn and distributed to the players. Since we’re not in the same room and split between two states, I instead alluded to the paper in their bag for them to ask about, while also prepared to gently drop the detail if the players don’t engage. Pivot and roll!

Initially the torn map pieces are overlooked, and the party walks south, into the Fangwoods, following a trail that starts well-worn, but progressively fades.

A few hours into their hike, they come upon a fallen tree. Three orcs emerge from behind it, and initiative is rolled.

I overlooked a mechanic I was supposed to employ, a problem I had throughout the session. The module imbedded vital instructions mid-paragraph in the description, which means I overlooked having the players roll to disbelieve when they land hits or are hit. I did read the module in advance, though, but it’s easy to forget the details, especially details hidden away like that.

I’m a terrible note taker. In school, if I was taking notes, then I wasn’t paying attention to the lesson because I was focused on writing. This also made me a terrible stage manager. Half the reason behind these write-ups is to get the information down and in circulation in my memory because I’m not able to mid-session.

What I should be doing is reading (or writing) the module, and making a bullet point list of the bare mechanics. I sometimes do similar when trying to learn new systems.[9]

Delilah climbs into a tree to shoot arrows at one of the three Orcs, the other three taking the ground battle.

The orcs are quickly defeated, their corpses fading away. What a curious event that I’m sure has no explanation to be uncovered in the future. An utter curiosity.

At this point, the party finally pauses to ask if they know where they’re going.

Ah, time for pay off.

At this point, I describe how they’d been following a shrinking trail, but soon they won’t have it to rely on.

I’m asked to post the list of supplies to the text chat for them to pour over. A careful edit of the description of the map is needed, and I do so.

The party discusses the supplies shortly, and someone looks at their part of the map. I tell them it appears to be a fourth of a map.

NavyDie shrewdly asks if they’re all the same fourth of a map. He likely learned from the time I gave my players descriptions of dreams then later threw some wood blocks at them not to take paper for granted.[10]

I confirm that they each have a different fourth of the same map. So they jigsaw puzzle it, and Mending is cast. Now they have a single map, and a burned spell slot![12]

They follow their map for the remainder of the day. The sun began to set, and the party needed to make camp.

When the opportunity arises, players will want to roll dice, because rolling dice feels good,. So everyone rolled for the survival check meant for one.

Bean, our ranger, was the only one who failed. I punished him by having him punch a hole in his tent. Everyone goes to bed, though Yot elects to take watch for a few hours, with no intention of waking anyone to take a shift after him. He chose enough time, and made the proper check, to spot a wolf investigating the border of the campsite before slinking off.

Yot decides to increase the length of his watch a little longer. So he was still awake when the wolf returned with three friends.

New combat! Yot shouts to rouse his allies, succeeding in waking Bean and Mogui, who come out of their tents to assist. No one thinks to go wake up Delilah, so she gets to sit out of this combat.

A few rounds occur, with the lead wolf eventually knocking Yot down and mauling him a tad. Mogui uses magic to scare off the other two, but lead wolf stays intent on his objective:[13] food.

The wolf makes his way into the camp, takes a mouthful of food, and skedaddles. I declare the end of combat. Bean buries the remainder of the food,[14] and everyone goes back to sleep.

With the morning arrival, and the completion of a long rest, the journey to Kassen’s Crypt continues.

The map leads them to the shore of a large lake on a misty morning, the grey skies and fog obscuring the horizon. A bandit lays dead on the beach. Our protagonists investigate the body, and find signs of an attack by a massive serpent. The body also has a sword and a wallet of gold on him, but they are left as the body is entombed into a shallow, sandy grave.

Travel continues, and they crest a small hill overlooking a serpentine valley, within which rests Kassen’s Tomb.

This then proceeds into my second big mistake: I overlooked the acrobatics check hidden with the descriptions and had my players roll directly on the failure table. Again, the table carefully set apart drew my eye. I’m learning! Poorly!

Still, someone ran into three different trees on the way down, so at least it was amusing, if unnecessarily punishing. I’ll quietly retcon away any damage taken in apology at start of next session.

Down the overly slippery hill, a small stable’s worth of dead mounts await: two horses and three ponies, the horses long dead, the ponies a little more recent. None the same day our party arrived, however.

A description of a fancy rune in the doorway’s keystone is given, and the session ends, exploration of the dungeon saved for the next session a fortnight later.

As usual, the session was characterized with me being stressed over keeping it running and attempting to follow the script of the module. The few times I’ve managed successive sessions has hinted that I’m able to settle in as things go on and the players figure out the table dynamic. I’m mostly confident I’ll figure it out.

While I am learning the value of boxtexts,[15] modules still invoke a sense of containment on me. A fear that if I, as a GM, stray too far, I’ll accidentally break something. I don’t enjoy scripts, that’s why I did improv. Scripts means you can make mistakes that need course correction.

But I’m playing with friends, we’re learning to be a cohesive performance troupe, and hopefully this will turn into a podcast. For the future.

Until next time, may your dice make things interesting.

-

[1] I’ll grant them the benefit of the doubt that they’re literate. [2] I’m seeing a combined Trix and the Sorceress[3] from her party. I’m going to have fun with that. [3] Indigo says her name was Makenna. [4] Which will make the process of creating sprite pawns for them slightly more difficult. I’ll ask them on the discord for physical appearances when I’m done writing this. [5] Were it not bipedal, I might’ve steered him into making it into a riding jackalope. They’re… kinda my pet fantastic beast. Usually ridden by mail carriers. [6] Originally the Church of a Pathfinder Deity, but I’m transplanting the module into D&D Fifth Edition anyways, so might as well sneak the details of my setting[7] into the margins. Helps everyone’s already just human. [7] Is this canon with the abandoned Genesys campaign? You decide! [8] When I have something to read, the mayor loses the stammering and uncertainty he has when I’m doing it off the cuff. This is because I’m not awkwardly trying to do things off the cuff. [9] I should have a file that’s basically Maid RPG Lite floating around due this same habit. [10] The one time I planned for my players to ‘cheat’ and show each other the notes I gave them, and the clowns kept the notes to themselves. You literally cannot rely on anyone to do anything like they should.[11] [11] I’d say you can trust players to make things harder for themselves, but return to footnote 10. [12] When I played through this module, I arrived after the mayor distributed the backpacks, and the party already had investigated their maps. So I don’t know how this puzzle was solved then. I also don’t remember the Orc encounter. [13] Behind the screen fun: while I rolled three times fairly, I applied the single success to who I wanted. For narrative reasons. I often play favorites in this manner. [14] Sure. [15] Along with listening to Dice Friends streams/podcast.

#SepiaDieGMs #crypt of the everflame #Dungeons and Dragons #Fifth Edition #NavyDice #IndigoDice #LimeDice #VermillionDice

[blankdblank]

Anaticula Pt 9

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - 

…

In the chair beside you Harry watched as you copied down the weight and other measurements of your cub with a dictating quill, eventually catching your eye as he said, “Aunt Petunia keeps crying at your letters.”

“All I did was wish her a happy holiday and fill her in on what she’s missed so far. She still hasn’t written me back.”

Harry wet his lip and offered a piece of diced turkey to the cub, “She’s tried.”

“I guessed as much.” Looking him over you asked, “You and Dudley get along?”

His head tilted to the side, “They spoil him. He likes to be in charge.”

“No doubt he’ll grow out of it.” Harry looked up at you with raised brows and you giggled, “Hey, it’s all pain and insecurity. No doubt if he’s puffing himself up someone is knocking him down. It’s hard growing up, magic or no magic, people can suck and rain on your parade. He’ll see it when he’s older, then he has a choice.”

His brow twitched up again, “Choice?”

“To keep hurting others to keep himself from getting hurt or to do the hard thing and drop his guard and take the pain of letting others in.” He blinked up at you and you smiled at him, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

.

Giggles and snorting laughter filled the table as Charlie read out on his schedule, “Head boy. Why the bloody hell would I be named head boy? On top of everything already?!”

Percy grinned saying, “Perhaps you could use it as a chance to test your task management skills.” Making Charlie raise a brow at him only to catch his sarcastic smirk back before he glanced at you in your weak giggle.

Charlie glanced at you asking, “Et tu, Jaqi?”

You giggled back and nodded, “Perce has a point. You can do it. Besides, who else would they pick for top boy, Hensen Slickworth?” Making him narrow his eyes at you playfully, “Suck it up buttercup.”

.

Again on the train you were squeezed into a tight hug by Cedric, who grew a staggering five inches and beamed proudly about it as it proved he was set for another in the next summer as his dad had at his age. Giddily he shared about the last couple weeks of summer he wasn’t able to write about in his family trip to Paris for a professional quidditch match.

Wide eyed for your first ride up in the carriages beside George you watched the Thestral pulling it that kept glancing back at you feeling your eyes on it with Fred and Cedric behind you. Holding in your giggle you set the black cone hat on top of your head and turned your attention to the sorting hat in its odd song of the best of adventures coming through the hardest endings leaving you bewildered to what it could mean. Then when it was through you sat back listening to the sorting of the group of students a third smaller than yours.

At the table you eyed your new schedule trying to memorize where you would be heading off to after your breakfast.

DADA 8 am

History of magic 9

Herbology Mon, Wed, Fri 10

2 free

Lunch at 1

Break 2

Break 3

Potions 4

Charms 5

Transfigurations 6

Dinner 7:30

Curfew at 8

Astronomy Wed 12

In a glance over at Tonks down the table you asked, “Tonks?” Her eyes turned to you as her mouth was full of pie, “Who does your double DA course say as Professor?”

In a dig in her pocket she pulled it out and mumbled back with stuffed cheeks, “Dumbledore.”

Turning your head while the twins and Cedric looked at theirs checking the name you held your schedule up catching the headmaster’s eye and gaining a confirming nod when he noticed your nonverbal questioning tap against the time schedule. “Hmm.” You mumbled turning back to the table missing his plotting gaze scanning over the tables, “Wonder how that’ll go.”

.

Unicorn’s Folly tucked safely in an enchanted dome circle that would cover it in darkness set to the enchanted clock you charmed for it on your desk down in the chamber you settled into bed with your cub on a special pillow near your head it refused to sleep without. Sunrise came soon enough and groggily you made it out of bed to your alarm with the boys joining you to your shared bathroom. Each claiming one of the enclosed toilets before hurrying to wash your faces and brush your teeth and fix your hair into something a bit more tolerable before dressing.

In the odd packing job you had to do with your cub trying to insist on playtime you could only find one of your floral tops you pulled on over a black pair of mid thigh length shorts. Tall socks and boots later you pulled your Puff robe on over and shouldered your bag easing the egg into an outer pouch with your cub in one of your robe pockets.

Through the mingled chatter of breakfast you ate and planned to stop in on Tulip for your first early morning feeding after your two months of set up transports of prey into the chamber allowing her to continue hunting freely on a healthy supply of animals in your absence. After that you three raced up to join Cedric on the path to your first course with Dumbledore.

.

Through the double doors you all eyed the classroom without a single desk in sight as Dumbledore stood in the center of the room. Waving his hands he ushered you closer, “Come in, come in, file around. As you may not know some decades ago I was, in fact, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Since then as you know we’ve had a number of Professors, and from time to time when others are, reluctant or unable to assume the position I step in. Though, I have recently taken up an interesting take on teaching. I will instruct the first two lessons, since that point you will all be assigned a section to study up on and present to the class. Today our lesson will be on these,” at a wave of his hand a sheet flew off a cage packed with Cornish Pixies. At his instruction you set your bags down on the floor along the walls then filed around the cage.

By the end of class you were all given origami phoenixes that flew over to you with your assigned topics and dates you would be presenting them written across their tail feathers.

Cedric, “Trolls.”

Fred chuckled, “Vampires.”

George, “Full Body Bind Curse.”

They all looked at you as you sighed and stated, “Werewolves” before looking at the twins who joined you in wondering if he knew about Remus and that was why you had been chosen or if it was truly random. Either way you had a week to prep.

Next was History of Magic and Herbology after and again you slipped seamlessly into your schedules and usual work patterns in getting your assignments done early to grant you more time for your extra projects your cub kept making more difficult. Occasional glances of Charlie chasing his Diricawl could be found keeping you from his usual snatch and snog game with you.

But at your Wednesday morning breakfast you turned to hear Charlie recite, “Spoons, spoons, magnificent marvels wondrous, rare.” He turned the note in his fingers with an exhausted wide eyed gaze down at you as you shot him a wide grin splitting through your exhausted expression. “What the hell? Three in the morning?”

“If I’m going to be up so are you.”

“Seriously?! I was on my rounds as prefect and your owl comes out of nowhere-!”

“Well I have a set list of letters to keep her distracted. She’s been listless while my cub is settling into the new schedule and all these people around, even more so than usual. Besides, that plant keeps humming, I swear it’s even in my dreams, it was yodeling yesterday. I’m sure it was.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, “At least yours is still humming, I forgot to set an enchanted timer and mine started screeching, had to set a silencing charm around it, took a full day for it to stop.”

.

All day you managed through and again you struggled to get your cub to sleep while the guys were troubled with a run through on their own scheduled classes, so much so that a muffled mooing stirred you from your dream. Your late alarm snapped your eyes open and in a baggy sweater and shorts you leapt out of bed throwing your bag over your shoulder. In a flick of your fingers the still sleeping boys were turned into kittens while their bags floated behind you. Barefoot through the halls you raced until just as Professor Sinistra stepped forward to speak the hatch in the floor shot open and a trio of bags floated through followed by your awkward clamber through the hole while holding the kittens.

Flashing her a timid grin you stated, “Sorry, late alarm.” She nodded and watched as you shifted the boys back who sat up rubbing their eyes as you moved to their side while Charlie swapped with another boy to sit on the cushion by yours. It was good that he did so because near the last ten minutes you slumped onto his shoulder with your eyes shut stirring a smirk onto his lips and he made sure you made it down the ladder and back to your room safely before returning to Gryffindor tower.

.

One week blew by and with bright blue hair you stood in front of the class halting for a moment before reciting the paragraph you had memorized. Those same harsh words you had imagined time and time again stabbing into Remus’ heart at having to hear just what the world thought of people attacked by werewolves like he was as a child.

At the end of that paragraph you stopped then wet your lips breaking from the biased book definition, missing the grin spreading on Dumbledore’s face off to the side of the class. “For as long as we’ve known about werewolves they have been seen as evil vile creatures. But what people seem to forget is that past the initial few of their race there have been thousands attacked and savagely brutalized by these creatures spreading Lycanthropy.”

Students shifted uncomfortably in their seats except for a girl in the back from Ravenclaw and your roommates. “Thousands of innocent people are told that they are monsters and forced to hide from an illness they have no control over, told that they should all be hunted down and killed. They all deserve lives, friends, families, safety, things everyone else deems them unworthy of having. The vast majority of werewolves today are victims, innocent bystanders forced into this disease.”

After a pause you added, “For them there are little options past the Wolfsbane potion and locking themselves away once a month.”

At the side of the room Dumbledore asked, “And what would your solution be?”

Wetting your lips you dug into your pocket and drew out a pair of inconspicuous chain bracelets, “I’ve been working with Fred and George on a stronger version of the potion and a prototype for chains that would hold their transformation at bay.”

His brow inched up as the girl in the back scooted to the edge of her seat, “And just how would they work?”

You eased them onto your wrists and they coated the back of your hands with a layer of silver, “When placed on a person’s wrists with lycanthropy it releases a trigger dulling charm to enhance regular Wolfsbane potion users so their body doesn’t shift at all. Plus, if their transformation is triggered by missing a dose it will curl their fists keeping them from scratching anyone while one of the charms on the wrist unleashes a powerful hibernation charm.”

His head cocked and his lips parted through a grin, “Impressive.”

You nodded, “Also, for people without the gene can also use them to restrain those changing, of course they can protect your hands if you need to defend yourself while also being able to be tossed at one in a shift or attempting to render them incapacitated.”

Dumbledore, “Any side effects you are aware of?”

“Pain. In the onset of their shift, the enchanted silver burns them when it forces their change to stop, more than just on their skin. When out of the full moon week no pain at all, during it, constant tingling, the day of, just searing pain unless they take the stronger potion exactly on schedule.”

The girl in the back raised her hand, “What is the difference between the potions?”

Turning around you moved to the board claiming the chalk. You wrote out all the ingredients and steps for the original. Went into the usual unattainable prices for each ingredient leaving most to do without or go bankrupt in buying it, “The new one halts the shift completely, and is a fourth of the price-,”

Making her mouth drop open, “But they taste metal all day and under direct moonlight their bodies ache everywhere and they experience numbness in their feet and lower legs somehow. Though if they eat pineapple every morning the metal taste is tolerable and the aching lulls after five hours with the second dose. We are working on the side effects but past those the irritability paired with the week wanes over continued use.”

She wet her lips as Albus asked, “Would this potion be able to be shared with others who require it?”

You shrugged, “If any are willing to tolerate the symptoms until we can work on something stronger, sure. Since they are forced into hiding it’s not likely if advertised for sale in public would sell well, but we’ve placed a few ads since the second potion in a few anon group meetings for secret deliveries. Only had a few requests to try it so far.”

Dumbledore, “Secret deliveries?”

“When we get an order request and enchanted safe is sent to them, they slide the coins into the slot on it and it opens releasing their supply. They collect it and it zaps back to us, discrete and safe for them.” In a reach into your pocket you pulled out a set of cards you sent out to each of the students, “The summoning chant for the safe. I’ve ensured they’re posted in each dorm common room.” As if to memorize it the girl in the back stared at the card in her fingers she then slipped into her pocket as Dumbledore stepped up to your side to instruct on a few stunning spells and a charm rumored to shift a werewolf back to their regular form for the last ten minutes of the class as you took your seat again easing the bracelets back into your bag.

…

First break at Eleven found you on your way to the library only to see that same girl from Ravenclaw that had asked you questions in your presentation nipping at her lip as she eyed you and the trio around you. The curious expression on her face stopping you in your tracks and bringing you over to the empty hall she was in.

After wetting your lips you flashed her a weak grin, “Hey, Nita, right?”

She nodded, “Nita Berdine.” Wetting her lips looking between the guys, “I had some questions, about the potions.”

You nodded and caught her looking around at the passing students before Cedric said, “RoR?”

You nodded your head as the twins said, “Follow us.” A winding path later she watched you pace summoning the doorway she timidly followed you through.

Behind you she asked, “This isn’t where your Basilisk is?”

You turned around with a giggle, “No. This is the Room of Requirement. Anyone can summon it, into anything they require. We use it for studying mostly. Professor McGonnagall said it was best to keep my Chamber private.” She nodded and closed the door behind her, “So, what questions did you have?”

Across the round couches you lounged leaving your bags on the table between you and she asked anxiously crossing her ankles, “You’re not a werewolf, are you?”

You shook your head, “No. But we know someone who was attacked by one if you were curious as to why we started to improve upon the original recipe.”

“How can it be so cheap?”

“Because it has a lot to do with snake venoms.”

Her eyes went wide, “Not Basilisk?!”

You shook your head with a giggle as Fred replied, “Whisptail Cobra.”

George, “Known to feast off werewolves.”

Both, “Deathly hard to catch, even worse to handle.”

You chuckled, “But of course, as a Parseltongue gathering their venom is far easier, even managed to get an egg for one for my collection. Only takes a drop or two for a months batch, attacks it in the blood. Something about the bat wing acting with the Gypsum root causing the numbness.”

George, “Still a work in progress.”

Fred, “Only found the snake last summer so it shouldn’t take long for us to perfect it.”

Cedric eyed her asking, “Were you attacked?”

She paused for a moment then shook her head, “No, but my Gramps was.” In relief she stated, “Mum has it the worst. My brother and I only have cravings for meat around the moon cycles.”

“I know it’s scary, trying something new, and yes we’re just three students, but we’re the only ones it seems to try and work on this glaring problem no one seems to talk or even care about.”

She wet her lips again, “Mum, Mum’s heard of a few groups. Most seem shady,” from her pocket she passed you the information, “maybe you could zap some of these cards there too.” You accepted the paper the boys leaned around you to read and she asked, “How well is the bracelet able to be, hidden?”

Fred, “We’ve got a bead one.”

George, “The charm bracelet ones seem to be the most effective though so far.”

When her questions had run out she gave you one last look over and you all smiled at her as Fred said, “We won’t tell anyone.” She wet her lips and you added, “If it helps I went to Azkaban rather than turn over my Basilisk to be killed and these guys knew where to find her. None of us are going to do anything to jeopardize your family’s safety.”

That eased her smile out and she nodded thanking you and promising to let you know what her mother and grandfather thought of trying the new potion and possibly the bracelets just in case. Another week passes by and the boys teach their classes.

Cedric on Trolls bewitched clumps of clay to demonstrate the charms and spells used to distract, confine and avert enraged trolls. Fred’s was a bit more laugh inducing at his Vampire set topic with his take on a few of the dated techniques before giving some of the newest his father had sent him a copy of straight from the Ministry Aurors were given along with a Hemoglobin potion to help sate their urge to feed on others and ease their weaknesses. But hands down George’s was the most interactive as with the Full Body Bind Curse you were split up into pairs to demonstrate the effects of the incantation with Dumbledore on the side ready to cushion your falls and to guide the students in the reversal spell.

Three weeks had bled by and your egg still sat cracked without any other sign of hatching just yet while your cub had grown over a foot already. The cumbersome cub still insisting on sitting on your lap in class stirred more than a few eyes in his wide eyed gaze watching your pen dart across the page and at each flip of the page in your book his spike coated paw would inch up to try and tap at the pages only to be gently nudged back down again. Lowly he would grumble and curl up in an angry ball with spikes bristling between stolen glances at you until you would draw out a crumpled ball of paper you would levitate under your desk for him to lay back and swat at. Already his curls nearly all gone thanks to your nightly brushings and bi weekly baths turning the curls into shimmering scales folding around your growing big footed cub always trotting after you or standing on your shoulder with his chest on top of your head with Opal hiding in your hair below his belly.

.

On the first crisp day of October you stood looking over the oddly shifting forest after the older students had left for Hogsmeade for the day, the twins and Cedric along with them to test your discovered hidden pathway. Though as your eyes narrowed at the forest waiting for what you had seen in your dream you spotted the same pair of foxes trotting through the snow stealing glances at you on their path away. 

One, two, three, four, before you could get to five the same loud roar erupted from the Chimera dwelling wild on these grounds that Professor Kettleburn had been failing to discover the den of since its arrival five years ago. Gently you set down your satchel your cub and egg were resting inside beside you. Racing down the hill through the thick mud the week of rains had stirred you cut off the group of first years formerly trying to catch tiny insects for Professor Sprout’s aquatic plant lesson homework in their fleeing. Thundering hooves concluded their fiery path in a mud flinging skid halting it ten feet from you with smoke pluming from its mouth in its rage fueled panting.

Stepping forward you drew its attention from the first years you waved on to run drawing its eyes back to them until you shouted, “HEY!” Loudly it snarled at you in your forceful step forward urging it to turn to face you fully, your fist unclenched as your hair turned from green to bright blue at your nerves, “Right here. Look right here, at me.” Slowly your hands rose at the faint licks of flames flowing from between its open jaws like a lion’s. Again it roared at you in your next step forward as you said, “Show me what’s wrong. I know you can understand me.” Again it roared at your next step and you spotted the Professors already pouring out into the fields while Hagrid hurried from his hut remaining in its blind spot ready to assist you as you lowered to your knee.

Her head turned to peer at the Professors and you said, “Hey, right here.” Her fear and pain filled eyes locked on you again through another roar, “Tell me what’s wrong.” Steadily you focused your mental will on tapping out to hers making her snarl and hesitate on fleeing as her mind tapped yours then rushed away only to timidly come back and tap it again in time for you to say, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

All at once while Hagrid inched closer to you both the memory of a cone burrowing vine bush flooded into your mind in its attacking her while she drank from a stream in the forbidden forest. Wetting your lips you raised your dropped knee saying, “You’re hurt. I can help you.” Again you moved closer and she roared baring more of her teeth while the barbs on her dragon tail rippled in its rise above your head. In a move around her side you spotted the patch of blood as her roar broke and weakly her goat legs gave out leaving her on her stomach in the mud whining between failed attempts at growls in turning her head to watch your move around her side to kneel beside her.

Lowly Hagrid crept closer to you remaining a few feet away with hands exposed for her to watch him as he asked, “Jaqi. Kelpie?”

You shook your head, “cone burrowing vine bush.” With a motion of your fingers you mentally shifted her thick fur back careful not to touch her still bleeding wounds while the barbs spreading inside her continued to grow against her struggle to fight, clearly having been burned off the rest of the vine in its attempt to gain freedom.

Hagrid nodded, scanning his eyes over the ground before stating, “Lemons!” mumbling to himself he drew out his wand and tapped his bare palm only to summon a pineapple making him mumble and drop it, “Blast it all!” Wetting his lips then trying again with brows furrowed. This time successful and he inched closer floating them to you along with a jar he floated towards you, “I’ll summon some more.”

You sliced the lemons in half and caught her eye saying, “This will hurt.” Weakly she gave another weak wine and you wet your lips covering the ends of the barbs with the lemon halves, holding them in place while Hagrid moved in to help you coat the last set with the crowd of Professors looking on. Kettleburn inched closer with another jar in hand through her pained roar and burst of flames erupting from her mouth at the barbs shifting inside her to turn and burrow into the slices of lemon that turned a dark brown and were snuck inside the jars. Weakly your cub stood peeking out behind Snape’s legs giving a rumbling then shrill roar for you asking if you were safe urging the Professor to drop and cradle him in his arms to keep him from going closer.

All the halves and barbs were in the jars while you eyed the still bleeding wounds. Kettleburn eyed them saying, “We’ll need a powerful healing draught for these and fast poor thing.”

Inhaling deeply your eyes that flashed to a muddle of colors closed and you focused on an odd rush. All at once fire seemed to course under your skin in your rippling transformation. Open mouthed they all looked on at your seeming burst into white and blue flames that rippled over your skin covering with white and blue feathers. Gasping softly in the flapping on your wide wingspan in your phoenix form Minerva whispered in proud awe at the near impossible animagus form to master, “That’s my girl.”

Folding your wings your foot landed on her side holding her in place as your tear filled eyes blinked your enchanted tears to drop onto the wounds that healed through her pained roars at the powerful yet excruciating healing draught. Retracting your foot at the last tear steadily she stood and took a few steps to circle and lock eyes with you before racing off back to the forest out of reach of the other professors. Inhaling deeply again your eyes closed, and you missed to your bag at its turn as your egg with flame doubling in its roll towards you.  Again your wings shifted and in your burst into flames to shift back again the egg lit up, rotating in the air. In your settling onto your knees again your eyes shot open at the shrill cheep sounding from the powder blue egg now coated with cracks that split open over your now raised palms.

Inside the dimming flames was a chick similar to a peacock with shimmering blue eyes, its body covered in fluff, white near its body shifting to blue and tipped in gold, a small tuft of blue sitting longer in top of its head in a dip to the side tipped in gold. Ruffling its feathers they shifted from gold to white and then back to their multicolored state. In the mud you sat down with him on your knee saying, “There you go Idris.” Waving your fingers to document his appearance and measurements onto the blank page the measuring tape in the spine of the book helped you obtain.

A cheep from him came with his tail feathers wiggling out to tilt up in his demand for your attention. Smirking at him you inched closer saying, “I bet you’re hungry.”

In a ruffle of his feathers that released a coating of flames coating him as you stood as Hagrid patted your back saying in the lift of the jar holding the used lemon slices, “I’ll get rid of these.”

Kettleburn grinned saying, “And see about sending out some fire crabs to eat those bushes.” Reaching out he flicked his wand removing the mud from your jeans and said, “You go tend to your Hoo-Hoo chick, I think your cub is about ready to nibble on Professor Snape.”

You giggled and neared the group as Minerva stated, “That was marvelous.” You giggled again accepting her partial hug while your cub in Snape’s arms urged him closer to you easing his hop onto your shoulders to lounge across them. With a grin Snape bent to pick up your bag he passed to you while saying, “I would imagine you would be among the first to have ever touched a Chimera as it was lucid. Impressive.”

Dumbledore chuckled turning to allow you to pass by, “No doubt she could tell there was nothing to fear. Racing here for aid knowing we would be able to assist.” Peering at Idris he stated, “Do not forget to copy down his first song if possible. Quite rare to capture them, and etching the notes into metal can form a protective seal I hear.”

You nodded, “Will do.”

.

Seated in the fire lit office in the Chamber you were finishing your measurements of your Unicorn’s Folly while collecting the next set of odd pustules in a vial when it turned an unrecorded burnt orange. Through the doorway Charlie charged, “A Chimera!”

Turning your head he crossed the room already with his hands on you in search of any injuries before his lips crashed into yours in a fiery kiss. Drawing back at the trio behind him his eyes turned to your plant giving out a near whale song, “What the-, why is it that color, and what is it singing? Mine is stuck on purple.”

“I can’t get mine to purple.”

He smirked at you stealing another peck on your lips, “I’ll tell you, if you tell me how to get to green.”

You let out a faked gasp, “Of course you want my coveted green.”

He chuckled and Cedric asked, “Ok, where’s the chick? I’ve only seen Hoo-Hoo’s in books.”

You giggled pointing to the nest along the wall above your cub’s hammock he was contently purring in for his second nap of the day before his lunch time feeding. Your visit was short lived as a notice from a set of judges had arrived to inspect your choices. The six judges each eyed your creatures and plants alongside your ledgers. All of which was impressive on their own at the doubling of sizes on all of them. For your plants samples of each item able to be sourced from the plant were examined thoroughly with your vial of orange pustules now hardening into Spessartite garnets. Leaning in they all asked, “Are those gemstones?”

They looked to you and you shrugged, “It just changed like that this morning for the first time.”

More impressively the group eyed your Idris only to have him keep apparating onto your shoulder under your hair until you held him in your palm for them. Unreadable expressions spread across the faces on the judges as they turned to leave. Rolling your eyes your hair pooled into your face at the crossed front legs from your cub laying on top of your head. Blindly with Opal’s aid as she borrowed the sight from one of your eyes she led you through the school back to your common room where you decided to write home briefly. 

One letter to Neville on the status of your plant while asking for a recap on his followed by another to your father and uncle about the Chimera. The final one was to Remus asking if his potion you had made a few tweaks to was proving less irritating for him than the batch the one for the month before, each one steadily improving upon the last brightening his mood greatly.

…

October held another drop in visit noting the doubling of your cub again and the odd fresh set of feathers seeming larger than Idris’ body often adding to his awkward waddle until he grew used to it. A late night study session left you with a clear view of the shooting stars reflected across the lake with you, your cub and Idris to watch the light show spurring on his first song. A twitch of your finger had the pen beside you copying down the notes to the heart warming song stirring a warm tear across your cheek at the overflowing feeling of hope flowing through you.

A few weeks blurred by and each night he formed a new song, each one more beautiful than the last always with him on your chest as if he was trying to lull you to sleep into peaceful dreams while your cub slept in the ever growing hammock above your head softly purring in his sleep. 

The end of November brought on an urgent letter from home and allowed by Dumbledore after your week of early exams at the news sent on ahead by Sirius at Alice’s nearing her due date. You were allowed to travel with K, taken straight to the midwife station you were shown into the waiting room where your family was in various stages of lounging across the irritatingly stiff chairs. Two hours and a visit from your over eager owl you sent back to Hogwarts with a letter for Charlie to startle him on his rounds again.

Eventually a cry sounded and in his startled jolt awake Regulus fell from the chair he was in and jumped to his feet while Neville stirred from his place sprawled across your chest onto his feet in front of you. A few minutes passed and finally you were shown in with Neville at his refusal to let go of your hand, his timid grin spreading at the yellow blanket wrapped infant with dark brown hair. An awkward grin spread on Alice’s face while saying, “Neville, come meet your baby sister.”

At the shifting of your hands you helped him onto the bed beside her on his knees to peer at her when he let go of you a giggle left you and you moved to the end of the bed waving your fingers to summon the camera from your home. Raising it higher you said, “Big smile.” Their eyes landed on you and with Neville shifting to settle between Frank and Alice they grinned as she propped up the bundle and you snapped the picture you made copies of and passed out between them and pocketed one for yourself then sat on the end of the bed watching as Neville bit his lip in his first time holding her. Alice grinned settling beside him smiling at the both of them through your snapping another picture as she said, “Neville, what do you think of Nellie?”

A grin eased onto his face nodding, “I like it. We can match.” Making them chuckle and nod wrapping closer around their children, both starting to feel the bond settling in even deeper. By noon she was taken home and Neville was taken back with Regulus so he could finish his final weeks of schooling as you finished yours.

Pt 10

#Harry Potter #oc x charlie weasley #Hogwarts #LIFE IN HOGWARTS #Neville Longbottom #Frank and Alice Longbottom #Head Boy #HP Crossover

[geek-patient-zero]

Prologue (Part 1)

Or: My Dinner with Reuben

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Dead Trilogy Volume 1

I always loved the cover art. It was done by an artist called BROM. Here’s his website.

Robert Weinberg dedicates the book to Edgar Allan Poe “for obvious reasons” and Bram Stoker “who started it all”, though Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu might disagree with that. On Poe, peppered throughout the book, between the three parts and on the back cover are short quotes from his works, mostly “The Masque of the Red Death”. Obviously. It’s a little BS though. Any elements inspired by Poe are shallow, at least in this book.

Underneath the dedication is a little disclaimer:

While the locations and history of this trilogy may seem familiar, it is not our reality. The setting of Vampire: The Masquerade of the Red Death is a harsher, crueler version of our world. It is a stark, desolate landscape where nothing is what it seems. It is truly a World of Darkness.

For in the grim dark 1990′s there is only war. And vampires.

Going into the book I thought this disclaimer was a little wanky. I expected that “a harsher, crueler version of our world” would translate to “our world but with more rats, goths, and supernatural creatures.” Similarly, the book’s spine labels the genre as “Dark Fantasy” which in my experience usually translates to “regular fantasy but with more rape.” Turns out the World of Darkness setting is a little more complicated than that, but most of the time Weinberg isn’t too subtle on the whole “darker version of our world” thing.

I just want to let you know, before we get started, that I’m not the biggest expert when it comes to V:TM lore. I’ve never played the tabletops, or read their source books. My knowledge comes from Bloodlines, wiki binges, and lore dumps on Reddit and the Something Awful Bloodlines 2 thread. Please bear with my dumb ass if I get something wrong.

Alright, enough preamble, let’s get to the actual story.

We start in Rome, June 15, 1992, at an outdoor restaurant near the Coliseum. A meeting there was set up the night before through an anonymous phone call to the “heart of the Vatican.” For a suitcase full of money, they’d talk about vampires, or as the book dramatically puts it:

“We will talk,” declared the mysterious voice in somber, cold tones, “of The Kindred.”

The first to arrive is Father Naples, named so because it’s a word you’d find on a map of Italy. He’s a member of the Society of Leopold, who only get one more brief mention after this prologue so all you need to know is that they’re Catholic vampire hunters. He’s a big buff guy, described like a cross between a priest and a high ranking CIA agent. He came unarmed.

His faith served as his shield.  Along with the five other agents of the Society of Leopold in the restaurant, including two women disguised as streetwalkers.

The Society of Leopold is the “the devil was behind this” kind of religious, so it’s weird they’d jump straight to hookers when thinking of disguises for their agents, or that said agents would agree to it. But this is the World of Darkness, a harsher, crueler version of our own, and that means there’s hookers everywhere, so put on the hot pants and think of Italy.

So Father Florence here’s got his disguised agents, who “carried enough firepower on them to start a minor war.” He’s also something of a badass.

And, though he had retired years before as a field operative, Father Naples still maintained his training in the martial arts. An expert at both kendo and karate, he could kill an attacker a dozen different ways.

He’s also got some agents in a nearby hotel room with a directional microphone aimed at his table to record the conversation. Soon, the target of all this seeming overkill arrives; a blonde mid-twenties guy in a white suit. His voice was different than the one who made the phone call, implying to Naples, and us, that there’s at least two people involved on the other side of this setup. It’s a neat bit of foreshadowing. After a firm handshake and no-selling Father Naples’s patented death glare, the stranger introduces himself as Reuben, “like the sandwich.” They banter a bit about the biblical Reuben before he decides to troll the Father a bit. First by saying he’s older than he looks, then by passing on the Father’s offer of wine.

“No thank you,” said Reuben. “I do not drink wine.”

He waits a beat for a reaction, then orders a Coke and a menu. I think I like Reuben.

Since vampires can’t eat or drink (unless they have high Humanity and a good dice roll) Father Naples is thus satisfied that the guy is not a vampire trying to trick him, deciding he’s “definitely human. And not very clever.” Reuben had made an obligatory knock at airline food, so now Naples believed the agents recording the conversation could use this clue to track down his real name and where he came from through airline records.

They get to the You Got the Cash/You Got the Stuff part of negotiations, with Reuben showing off the twenty million US dollars in his briefcase (Not euro because we’re the only country whose currency matters fuck you Italy) in exchange for a monologue from Naples about the history of the Kindred, starting from the beginning. Reuben says Father Naples can summarize if need be.

“Summarize?... How does one summarize ten thousand years of absolute evil? An impossible task, but let me try.”

The rest of the prologue until the end is Naples’ exposition on vampires while he drinks a shit ton of vino. Since it’s Vampire: The Masquerade Lore 101, I’ll summarize like our pal Naples.

Vampires secretly control the world. There are thirteen vampire clans descended from Caine, of Cain and Abel fame only spelled with an e for some reason. Ye olde Caine killed his brother, though I once read that in this setting it wasn’t so much just committing the first murder as introducing the very concepts of murder and killing to reality and basically ruining everyone’s lives, including demons. God punished Caine by giving him vampirism, forcing him to kill to survive for inventing killing. The vampirism also gave him superpowers, so he’s like a little bloodsucking demigod. I’ve seen jokes about God punishing Caine by giving him cool superpowers, but according to Father Naples Caine needed them because everyone knew what happened and were pissed at him for inventing murder and eating them. When everyone and everything wants to kill you on sight you need to be OP to survive and then feel sad about it.

(He also didn't learn most of those powers until later, when he met Lilith.)

Caine discovered that he could make more vampires through the classic “drain their blood to the point of near death and then feeding them your own blood” method. He sired three new vampires, who weren’t as powerful as him but still quite capable of ruining your day, a trend that continues through twelve or thirteen vampiric generations, although the latest generations are puny compared to Caine and his kids.

Caine and the Second Generation founded Enoch, the First City, and were worshiped there as gods, I’m guessing because of a mixture of fear and the hope of getting some sweet vampire powers if you suck up to the first murderer. The Second Generation then sired the Third Generation, thirteen vampires that became known as the Antediluvians. They’re the ones the modern thirteen vampire clans descend from. 

Then everything goes to shit for Caine. Again. The Antediluvians, ambitious dicks, rose up and killed the Second Generation, destroying Enoch in the process. This could be thought of as Caine’s true curse: being forced to watch his childer, and their childer, and so on plot against and murder each other as he had done to his brother, and generally being a plague on mankind. See, Vampire: The Masquerade can be a bit too try-hard edgy and horny at times, but then you also get neat bits of writing and lore like that. As for Caine, he disappeared after the fall of Enoch. He’s now a cab driver in Los Angeles. Or a hermit in Greece, messing with traveling scholar vampires. Or both. Depends on who you ask. No, really. I’m being serious.

I should mention that, religious guy that he is, Father Naples likes to pepper his monologue with casual mentions of the devil. He says things like...

“It was then, in his darkest despair, that Caine learned from Satan a monsterous secret.”

“Encouraged by Satan, Caine created three such monsters.”

“And, in time, urged by Lucifer, they, too, bestowed the gift of eternal life on a select group of their victims.”

“They knew not the Lord God, but Lucifer, the Dark Angel.”

...and generally blaming the big guy below for getting the vampires to do vampire things. While most of what Father Naples says about the setting’s history is correct, the Satan stuff isn’t. Lucifer is a character in the World of Darkness, specifically Demon: The Fallen, but he has nothing to do with V:TM. This adds a neat bit of characterization and unreliability to Naples’ narrative; something Reuben will point out at the end of the prologue.

The Great Flood happened, but Father Naples doesn’t mention it. He skips to the Antediluvians founding the Second City, which didn’t get a name like Enoch because in its two thousand years of existence apparently no one could think of one. With the support of their childer, the fourth generation, they ruled over the Second City and, according to Naples, enslaved humanity. But eventually humanity rose up against the vampires, killing some of them with sunlight, fire, and beheading. The Second City fell and the surviving vampires fled. The Antediluvians disappeared. Some modern day vampires believe the Antediluvians were all dead, while others (the correct ones, turns out) believe they’re hiding, resting in torpor (a kind of vampire coma) this whole time and one day, they’d wake up and, as Father Naples says, “...the world of the Undead shall tremble.” This is our first mention in this book of Gehenna, the end of the wold according to the Kindred. He also says their return was predicted in Revelations, but I’m no biblical expert so I can’t tell you what bits of Revelations that might be referring too.

Reuben asks what happened to the fourth generation, or the Methuselahs as they’re now known because they’re old as balls but not “lived before the Biblical Flood” old. Father Naples tells him, then goes on to explain the titular Masquerade, vampire factions, and the thirteen clans.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #vtmb #world of darkness #vampire: the masquerade #blood war

[magmasliveblogs]

1.09

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand im back with the 10th chapter! to recap, last chapter erin explored her new [basic crafting] skill, stayed up waiting for the two guards who never came because of a market brawl, and was woken up by a skeletal monstrosity knocking on her door. she threw a pot at it when it threatened her. lets see how this pans out, shall we? 

It was instinctual. The black metal pot flew through the air even before the creature finished speaking.

“What the—”

Before the creature was struck by the flying pot it made a very uncharacteristic, very human, very surprised sound. After it was struck by the pot it didn’t make any sounds at all.

The image of the gigantic, skeletal creature wreathed in slime and darkness vanished in an instant. Erin stared as the much more normal figure of an unconscious young man dressed in grey robes appeared on the ground. He was unconscious and already had a big bruise forming on his forehead. She stared at him. She stared at his robes.

“…Huh.”

well that conflict which im sure all 4 of my followers (hello if your reading this in the future after i have gained a 5th or possible a 500th) were agonizing over since my post yesterday was resolved very quickly. seems this man is some kind of illusionist. 

The young man was dreaming. Maybe he was dreaming of something nice. Maybe he was reflecting on his life so far in a life-changing dream of revelations. Either way, the bucket of water woke him up.

“What—who dares—?”

The young man sat up, rubbing his head. Erin stared at him. He didn’t seem very mage-like. Or that impressive, for that matter. He had pale skin, brown, unkempt hair, and he smelled bad. Actually, that smell was probably his clothes which didn’t look like they’d been washed.  Ever.

The mage looked up at Erin and blinked. She stared back.

“So. You’re gonna hurt me if I don’t give you food, huh?”

it seems this illusionist has fallen on hard times. 

Erin stood up and cracked her knuckles. It really hurt, but she tried not to let it show. The young man raised one finger and pointed at her. It was only slightly trembling.

“I will have you know I am a mage of great power and I will not be—”

The mage cut off quickly as Erin lifted the cast-iron pot up with one hand.

“This. This is a pan.”

Erin waved the metal pot in front of the young man’s head. She saw him glance at it and then colored when she realized her mistake.

“In fact good Mistress, that is in fact—”

“If I say it’s a pan, it’s a pan. The important part is that I’ll hit you with it if you try anything.”

“Oh really?”

The mage sneered at her. His eyes were on her pot, but they dipped into a belt at his waist.

“Hey, stop that!”

He ignored her and mumbled something. At once, he vanished. A booming echo reverberated throughout the room.

“Behold my p—”

Erin swung her pot in the space where the mage had vanished.

Clong.

“Ow!”

The mage reappeared, clutching at the side of his face. Erin raised her pot again and he raised his hands defensively.

“Try that again and I’ll hit you harder.”

it also seems like erin is having none of this mages nonsense 

“Now look, there’s no need for violence. I can see that you are no ordinary plebian fool but an extraordinary plebian. Believe me when I say that is a high compliment from a practitioner of the arcane such as I.”

Erin glared.

“I know what plebian means.”

“Ah.”

“One more insult or stupid little invisibility spell and I’ll break something.”

The mage looked surprised.

“You—you could tell it was an invisibility spell?”

Erin rolled her eyes.

“What else could it be?”

The mage blinked at her. Then he muttered to himself in a not-quite whisper.

“How astute. She’s quite intelligent for an innkeeper.”

Erin glared. He coughed and avoided her gaze.

“Ahem. Well, I shall be going.”

He made a show of standing up and brushing down his robes. Quite a lot of dirt and grime fell to the inn’s floor. Erin stared at it and glared at him harder. He swept her a deep bow and gave her a charming smile. Or what he probably thought was one.

“My apologies, good Innkeep for all these misunderstandings. Please accept this recompense for your wasted time.”

He reached into the pocket of his robes and produced a few bronze coins. He made to offer them to Erin, but when she made no move he placed them on the table.

“So. You’re paying me for trying to scare me and steal food?”

The mage gave her a winning smile. It did nothing to wipe away Erin’s scowl.

“Harshly put, Good Mistress. But yes, I would like to make amends. And I am sure this payment is quite acceptable, is it not?”

Erin stared at the four bits of brassy metal. She glanced up at his face. It was quite impassive and betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

“You’re sweating.”

He began dabbing at his forehead with his robe.

“Am I? Terribly sorry. Let me just, ah…”

Three more coins appeared in the palm of his hand with a flick of the wrist. It looked like a sleight-of-hand trick. A pretty bad one, at that.

first of all, it seems this man enjoys winning vocab tournaments. second, it seems he is trying to bribe his way out of this. if he had money in the first place why rob an inn? is this man a criminal, using his illusions for nefarious purposes like some sort of evil Houdini? 

“Some people don’t like being threatened by a giant skeletal monster from hell.”

“I see?”

The number of coins in his palm didn’t change. Erin stared at him.

“Some people would take violent offence to being scammed.”

He blinked once.

“Traditionally those who practice magic are beings of great power that should not be crossed.”

“Yeah, and they have fragile bones. I’m sure mages are really scary when they’re far away, but wands aren’t good at blocking frying…pots.”

He licked his lips but his face remained calm.

“Fair point. Let me just amend my fee.”

A silver coin appeared in the palm of his hand. Erin narrowed her eyes and said nothing. Another silver coin appeared, and then a third.

She crossed her arms.

Three more silver coins joined the small pile. He was definitely sweating now.

“I uh, hope this is sufficient good Mistress. I am of course willing to pay any dues to—to make amends, but I’m slightly low on coin at the moment.”

Erin kept staring.

Very reluctantly, he reached into the belt at his side. He pulled out a gold coin and held it up.

“Would ah, this do?”

Erin relented a tiny bit. She picked up the coins in his hand without taking the gold coin. She thought she heard him sigh in relief, but his face remained impassive. He was still sweating, though.

“You know, I just wanted to see what would happen if I kept on staring at you.”

“Ah. Of course. Well, as a practitioner of the mystic arts I feel it is always wise to be…generous.”

“It would certainly save time. And you know, if you paid for everything you wouldn’t have to try to scare people to get what you want.”

“Ah, but money is so…mundane. Where would the enjoyment in life be without variety?”

“Uh huh. And you provide that by threatening people with illusions?”

“Only on occasion. And I quite understand your irate feelings. However, since I believe all is settled I shall just…”

oh  no mr mage you shall not be getting out of this with just a couple coins leaving your purse 

He edged away from her and towards the door. Along the way his stomach rumbled and his ears turned red, but he kept walking. Erin sighed and came to a rapid decision.

“Where are you going?”

His shoulders hunched and Erin saw his hand tighten on the door handle.

“Well, if you have no further need of me…I did pay, after all. So I won’t intrude any fu—”

“Come back here and I’ll feed you.”

He turned around and blinked at her. Erin was already going into the kitchen for a plate and cups.

“Here. Blue juice and some blue fruit. I’ve also got pasta in a pot, but I need to warm that up first.”

Erin set the cup and plate down and added three blue fruits on top of it. She expected the mage to dig in immediately or make a snarky comment, but he just turned pale.

“Ah. Am I supposed to eat this?”

“Yeah. It’s food.”

“And I suppose if I don’t, you hit me with that pot, correct?”

He eyes her warily. Erin eyed him back.

it seems this man knows something erin doesnt about the blue fruit 

“Are you aware that ah, this fruit is poisonous?”

Erin paused, the blue fruit halfway to her lips.

“Poisonous?”

He smiled at her, his face a shade paler than before.

“Highly. The core of the Amentus fruit causes painful death within hours if eaten. While the outer rind is safe for consumption, the inner seeds are toxic. You are aware of this, right?”

“Um. I am now?”

“I see.”

“…Want one?”

He eyed the blue fruit apprehensively.

“Do I have the option to refuse?”

“Look, it’s safe. I’ve eaten tons of them. Just eat around the core and you’ll be fine, okay?”

He made no move towards the plate.

“Shall we just say I accept your word? I wouldn’t dare question your authority on the subject good mistress, it’s just that—”

“Oh come on.”

Erin stomped into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. The mage flinched when she reappeared with it, but she grabbed one of the fruits and began cutting the outer shell of fruit away. She left the seed core on the counter and shoved the diced fruit into a plate. Two more fruits went the same way before she plonked the plate down in front of him.

“Here. Totally non-poisonous food ready to be eaten. Happy?”

She glared at him. He gingerly picked up a slice of blue fruit and regarded it apprehensively.

“I suppose the toxicity would be acceptable if it were just the fruit. Well then.”

well i mean the poisonous part was semi obvious from the way the crabs reacted to them 

Gingerly, he bit into the fruit and chewed. After a few seconds he swallowed and took another bite. In under a minute the plate was empty and he was wiping the blue dribbles off his mouth with a corner of his robe.

Erin set down a plate of steaming pasta in front of him.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you? Well, eat this.”

“My thanks.”

And it even sounded like genuine thanks. Erin guessed he was fairly hungry. Actually, now that she looked closer his robes did seem to hang rather thin on his frame. And if you factored in the dirtiness and general smell he was now giving off, she guessed he was in pretty rough shape.

Still, he ate with all the vigor and energy of two men, so she supposed he was still okay. And once she’d refilled his plate he slowed down. After a while he stopped, probably to let his stomach expand and regarded her.

“So, if I might inquire, what is a delicate flower of effervescence doing in such a locale?”

Erin glared at him.

“Are you trying to sound impressive, or do you actually talk like that?”

He drew himself upright and looked indignant.

“How rude. My advanced lexicon and diction is merely a result of my education, not a facade that—”

“Stop it. You sound like an idiot.”

His eyes narrowed, but Erin’s glare out-glared his own.

“Fine. I suppose there’s no use attempting to impress anyone who actually has the rudiments of an education. But my question remains: what’s a young g—woman like you doing out here alone?”

His voice was no less haughty and condescending than before, but at least he wasn’t dropping seven-letter word scores every other sentence. Erin decided that was worth a few more seconds of forbearance. That didn’t mean she had to be polite, though.

this mage seems a lot more pompous than a man in his situation reasonably should be 

“I got lost.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Lost? It takes quite some skill to wander this far into the Flood Plains. Or are you a local? I very much doubt you are, though.”

“Flood Plains? What are you talking about?”

The mage waved a hand around lazily.

“This area is known as the Flood Plains. It’s because of a lovely natural phenomenon of the geography and—but you aren’t from here, if you don’t know about this area. But I would have guessed as much since you are human. As far as I can tell.”

“I am completely, 100% human, thanks. And why does that make a difference?”

“The locals don’t like humans that much.”

He gulped down a few more noodles while watching her.

“That’s something else you didn’t know, isn’t it? Well, well. A traveler who doesn’t know anything about where she is…teleportation spell?”

Erin blinked at him.

“How’d you guess? Actually, you’re only half-right, but how’d you guess?”

He shrugged.

“It’s common. Well, not common exactly, but it’s the only explanation I can think of. I suppose you could have also been carried off by one of the local avian species, but they tend to drop their prey and chew their bones.”

Erin shuddered.

“They grow that big? No; don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But you’re right. It was a teleportation spell. Or something. It didn’t feel like a spell, but…”

“And you’re an expert on teleportation spells? I see.”

This time the sneer on his tone was a bit too pronounced. Erin’s hand twitched towards the pot.

“I’m not. But I’ll just bet those kind of spells make a flash of light or a weird sound, right?”

He looked reluctant.

“…Perhaps.”

ah yes, perhaps. the perfect word to use when you dont want to admit your wrong

“Yes, well. I see you’ve established yourself quite nicely. This is—is quite a lovely establishment you’ve founded. Very quaint.”

“It’s not mine. I just found it and somehow became an [Innkeeper] by cleaning up around here.”

“Indeed. That is quite often the case. However, you seem to have taken to it well. This area is inhospitable to most humans.”

“Thanks, I guess. But if it’s so lousy—and it is, I totally know—why are you here?”

He blinked at her.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I told you why I’m here. What’s a raggedy mage doing scaring people for food?”

He swept his robes around himself defensively.

“My physical appearance has nothing to do with—”

“Just answer the question.”

He looked uncomfortable.

“I ah, came here to expand my horizons. This nation—well, collection of city states is quite hospitable to those people trying to avoid undue attention. Besides, food is plentiful if one has certain skills.”

“Like pretending to be a horrible monster?”

He avoided her gaze.

“One does what one must to survive.”

She looked at him.

“I suppose one does. Does it make you feel good, stealing from innocent people?”

Her words turned his face bright red. He set down his fork and pushed his empty plate back.

“You would not be so quick to judge if you knew more about the people you’re defending.”

“Maybe not. But then again, the only two I’ve met were quite polite, paid for their meal, and didn’t try to threaten me when I first met them. Whereas the first human I met was you.”

ah yes, racism. it seems to be a bit rampant in humans if this man is any indication 

“I see I’ve overstayed my welcome. Well, your meal was quite adequate, good mistress. Please accept my heartfelt gratitude.”

He probably meant to stalk away but Erin barred his path.

“Here.”

She offered him two blue fruits. He hesitated.

“Take them. You look thin, and maybe if you eat them you’ll stop bothering other people. Thank you for your business. Come by again and I’ll feed you. Try to scare me and I’ll hit you harder next time.”

He blinked at her, but accepted the fruits anyways.

“Um. Thank you.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“It occurs to me that I never asked your name.”

“Me? Oh, I’m Erin. Erin Solstice. And you are?”

The mage took a step back and gave her an elegant bow. Erin stared at the blue stain on the sleeve of his robe.

“Pisces, practitioner of magic, student of Wistram Academy, specialized in the Elementalist and Illusionary schools of magic with additional competencies in multiple spell schools.”

Erin raised an eyebrow.

“Good for you. Got a hobby?”

He hesitated.

“…Necromancy.”

The door closed as Erin stared.

well that sounds like some sort of mage college, i wonder if its nearby or is this the sort of school where everyone whos been brags they have, like harvard? also im assuming the necromancy is why he has resorted to using his illusions to steal from random houses out in the middle of the plains. 

either way, thats the end of the chapter! will this man come back in the coming days? will the guards remember erin exists? will erin ever remember the settlement in the distance? 

see you tomorrow! 

#chrono

[horror-game-fanatic]

Weaponry (Survival Horror Manual)

It’s been a minute, I know!

So I have finally cracked how weapons work. This is still being refined, mind you, but its solid enough to put on paper.

So last we talked, I touched on the fact that instead of specific weapons, there will be categories of weapon types and the DM will have to come up with the specifics if they want the players to know they have anything other than a pistol or shotgun or melee weapon, etc. Now I have devised how each weapon category works. 

So what we have is three attributes that goes with all the weapon categories. Save for special weapons, (which will be covered later), we have the basic groups:

Pistols

Shotguns

Rifles

Heavy

Special

Melee

Obviously this is just a basic list to get the game off the ground. They will be expanded upon and fleshed out as test playing commences. For the explanation of this system I wills tick with pistols for now. Before I begin, I want you to know that I am not taking a 5e tradition approach to damage, but rather a more buffed 3.5e approach. I want every weapon to feel substantial. A human being should not be able to take like six shots and keep going, or four dozen beatings to the head with a melee weapon and shrug it off like they’re Broly, okay? So as we explain the creature categories in later posts, take into consideration that they are enemies, not like us common folk. Look at the revamped Resident Evil 2; on normal difficulties a normal zombie can take two or three headshots before its put down. That's because it does not feel pain like a human, as well as the fact that the brain processes WAY differently than their living counterparts. A human on the other hand, can take one shot (MAYBE two, depending on where it was shot and what shot it), but lets be realistic here. That’s what we are going for after all. The odds are stacked against the players, at all time, or else its not survival horror, its not even survival. So something as simple as a pistol should definitely do more than a typical humans HP should ever be able to surpass. That way every fight, every encounter, every run in with even another NPC, could be life or death. The tension should always be constant and the stress should always be high.

And we all know what stress does in this system. 

Alright, so lets go over my attributes. Each weapon will have three qualities:

Damage

Speed

Quality

Damage is how much dice you roll if your attack connects. A pistols damage is 4d6, which can be a max of 24 if you roll all 6′s. Rare, but it can happen. Speed is how fast your weapon fires during each Reaction. Since we have replaced rounds with Reactions, battle is a lot more fluid and can constantly change. Speed is increased by an increment of 4. The speed of a pistol is 10, so that means you can get two shots off per Reaction. If you went of standard D&D rules, a round takes six seconds. I am not trained in gun weaponry at all and even I know I can get more shots off in less than six seconds. Why we changed this old rule was for this reason. While you may have built of tension for your players through your atmosphere and general difficulty, everything would always slow down to the same old crawl of hitting once and then waiting and then attacking again and then waiting and then attacking again...

With a speed rating, combined with the Reaction control, you could potentially end a fight in your first go around, granted your Reaction is good and your attacks don’t miss. Think of playing The Last of Us. You really want to run through a warehouse filled with enemies and not be able to chain attacks? Six enemies up in this place and you have to enter and roll initiative for each one and then take damage from each one and piss off the rest and not come up with strategies an-- you get the idea. Try it before you knock it.

Quality is random. Unless otherwise stated by the DM, every weapon a player comes across should come with a roll of a dice. There are three tiers; low, common, and high. Since we have included the system that weapons can be upgradable, this idea really shines through. Every time a weapon is found or picked up, a dice should be rolled secretly. You, as a DM, will decide if the weapon fits into one of these three tiers. 

Low - The weapon has a high misfire chance and only has one upgrade slot available.

Common - The misfire chance is lower but still there and it has two or three ways to upgrade.

High - While the misfire chance is really low, it is still present but it also has the highest possibilities for upgrades. Typically no more than four.

Going off the upgrade section just real quick, upgrades can come in several varieties such as speed reloaders, increased magazines, damage outputs, scopes, etc.

Once an upgrade is attached to a weapon, it can’t be taken off without a certain perk. One of he basic perks will allow players the ability to attach upgrades successfully, but a later perk will be needed to remove them. This will also potentially punish the player if they want to be more risky with their decisions and don’t take the perk and instead leave their fate to the dice. The speed and damage would be set, but depending on the place in the story and DM’s discretion, I’d say that some weapons would already have upgrades on them. 

A weapons quality wouldn’t be a known fact at first glance either, unless you have a specific perk, until you actually use the weapon. It might be dirty, it might be busted, or jammed, or in a major need of servicing. If you are going through a forest and stumble across a weapon, unless you are trained to use said weapon, you cannot honestly believe you can just pick it up and use it. Melee weapons may be more obvious in their telling of it they are good or not, but a pistol, though caked in mud, may actually be in rather good condition. Or one found in a drawer next to a box of bullets, while scavenging supplies, may have not been used in so long that it needs oiling. Upgrades on a weapon can be seen on sight.

Speed would only increase in increments of 2. A pistol starts with a 10, but you find an upgrade that raises the firing speed, so now it fires at a 12. That means you can now get 3 shots off per reaction! That’s a lot of shots. With each shot doing 4d6 damage, you have the possibility of 72 damage in one Reaction. Think of the possibilities. Now that may not be much for a low tier weapon, that could increase exponentially for common or high tier qualities. Like I said, a weapon should be dangerous and a player needs to feel the weight of that responsibility. Risk the spent bullets, noise, and misfires but pump out some damage, or conserve your shots and focus on surviving. 

Shotguns would a little differently; obviously they aren’t fast, but with enough upgrades they can be. Rifles are powerful and fast, but have a high chance of misfiring. 

Let’s touch on Misfire real quick, actually. This is a mechanic that effects all weapon types, despite it sounding like it only effects ranged weapons. Think of it like the Wild Magic Table for a Sorcerer in 5e. Every time you roll to attack, you will see if you hit. If successful, you will roll your damage. Based on the weapon type (lets keep going with pistols), you will roll your damage (4d6) AND THEN roll your weapons base die (1d6). This is called your Misfire Chance. A misfire chance can be anything from your weapon jams, to the handle breaks, to the gun ricochets and hits you, to the weapon fails you in some way. In fact, it is optional, but the DM can use a table (created in a later post) that details just exactly what your weapon does. This brings a sense of stress to each encounter. You will roll the base die after your roll your damage. Each quality tier will have a different misfire chance;

Low: Evens or Odds

Common: Call the number and if you land on it then you fail.

High: Roll a one (1) on the base die.

As you can see, the chance for a mess up is always there. The chances are slimmer the better quality your weapon, but the presence of failure always looms. The Misfire Chance will have to be tweaked, of course, for different types of weapons but as I make the chart, I will add those effects. I like the idea that even a well seasoned soldier can have a mistake and I also like how we have gotten away from the D20 being a deciding factor in all of this. 

There has been a lot of information thrown out so let’s recap: There are categories for weapons. Each category of weapon has three attributes; damage, speed, and quality. Depending on the quality, a weapon has a chance to misfire or fail. Upgrades can be attached to weapons to not only decrease this oversight, but also to increase weapon damage and speed as well as do a variety of effects. Qualities should be randomized by a roll unless otherwise stated by a DM. Players will need certain perks to properly handle certain weapons as well attached and dismantle upgrades. 

Weapons have real power and must be used responsibly. A shot or swipe of a weapon can easily take down another player or NPC and in most cases, an enemy. Ammo or resources should always be scarce and the tension and stress should always be high. Remember DM’s, this system is made to put the odds in the favor of the enemies, not the players. Your players did not come to play Resident Evil or even Left 4 Dead, to feel like the king of the world. They came to play a game that’s thought outside of the box. A game that will challenge them and maybe even frustrate them. A game that will force them to survive.

We are almost ready people. The horror is coming.

#survivalhorror #d&d