Monday, May 26, 2014

Character Journal: Lucanus

Another journal of 7th Night, this one from Lucanus.

Seventh Night bohort. I had been thinking about it all week, ever since Sieur Alan told me about it and said I could borrow his horse. During our visit to the Tower, our interview with Torremonte, the ride to Ostalric--it was in the back of my mind, constantly in my thoughts. Even during our fight with the manticore, when Sieur Alan charged into the cave and speared it right in the head, I thought of how it might be to strike someone just so in the bohort. 

As an aside, everyone thought charging in like Alan did was foolish, and that it would not work. But he is a true knight and showed us all our folly. Moments like that only reinforce my resolve to become one of the Knights of Miles.

Ah, but the bohort. I spoke to the others often of it as we returned to Miles, telling of what I thought it might be like and how I hoped to do well. The only thing that distracted me from my thoughts was the sight of the Pillar stretching from the center of the city into the heavens at dusk, a streak of sunlight pointing up into the darkening sky. Miles truly is the greatest city in Arunia. 

We took care of our business as the Ironbreakers as night fell, and I left the Manticore's head with the Sieur in the Commandery. I took his horse, Jovinian, for a night ride before I returned to the townhouse. In spite of my nerves and excitement, I was able to get a good night's rest and eat a decent breakfast. 

As I checked over my gear and saddled Jovinian, I thought of the things that might go wrong. Even after fighting the manticore, after watching two others cut down by its tail spines, I never really considered death as a possibility. My biggest worry was riding Jovinian into battle for the first time. We didn't really know each other, but he has served Alan well. If I performed poorly in the bohort, and perhaps disappointed the Sieur, it would be my fault, not the horse. 

Stuck in my thoughts as I was, I was not immune to the revelry spreading throughout the city. Seventh Night in Miles is perhaps the greatest celebration in the world. Singers, dancers, jongleurs, and musicians of every instrument were on every corner. So, too, were the Rayans, but never for very long. The entire city had turned out and joined in the festivities. River Hill sounded like a riot. River Hill probably WAS a riot.

But my path did not take me through River Hill. Instead, I went just out of the city, to the fields where the bohort will take place. They had hung red and white linin around the grove there, and even as I arrived they were still sanctifying the ground with holy water. But the knights! Never before had I seen so much heraldry in one place. Followers of Haeron and Halor, Knights of Orders I had not seen before, and many in their own heraldry. I felt out of place for a moment, wearing my plain mail, and resolved to get a surcoat with my heraldry upon it at some future time before my next event. 

The crowd was monstrous. I knew that so many people could live within Miles, but seeing them all in one place was a little disconcerting. Not only that but it seemed all of Saxa came as well. These people, the sheer number of them, they are why grain ships ply the Annorius.

From afar, I espied Caesar, but I did not have time to greet him before we started. Had I known he was coming, I would have broken my fast with him. But it was time to draw our stones. I drew red.

After I put on a red tabard, I introduced myself to the others on my team. Sieur Clemant of Mermarch, Sieur Lancellon Norandor, Sieur Telmar of Bataille, and Sieura Lyrana the Rose. Sieura Lyrana was a Rose Knight, and the only one of us in plate. She said something about a warm place to bury my sword if I went with her, and it seemed like a good idea to have a friend amongst my teammates. 

Then, the horn blew. The crowd screamed, hungry for our blood, and the priests pounded their gongs like the world was ending. I was excited, nervous, a little scared, and a little aroused. A deep breath to calm my stomach and then we charged in. 

I cleaved to the flank of the Sieura. She unhorsed a knight of the tagmata and I captured him. Then she was struck down from behind. Splinters of lance flew through the air as I wheeled around to challenge her assailer, a large tagmata knight wearing enough mail for three squires. Even as I turned he drew an axe and spurred towards me. 

The sounds of battle and the din of the bloodthirsty crowd faded to a dull roar as we met in battle, and he seemed to slow down as he swung his axe at me. It thumped into my chest, but my mail absorbed the worst of it. But his second blow almost took the wind out of me. In spite of his girth, he was able to avoid my lance, and I tossed it down and drew my sword even as I deflected another blow, catching it upon my shield. 

Then I struck a mighty blow against his arm, forcing him to drop his axe. He started flexing his hand in the manner that people do when they have lost feeling in their arm, and then yielded to me. Two knights captured, not bad for my first bohort, I thought, and we're not even done yet.

While we caught our breath, a knight on the gold team approached us and told us that someone had been badly hurt and had asked for me. I feared for Caesar, but I was suspicious of a ruse and thought this knight might just be trying to break up what was clearly a winning combination. Fortunately for me, Sieura Lyrana wanted to go as well. He led us towards the healers, and once we were a fair distance from the melee, he tried to push Lyrana forward, telling her to look to herself. She tried to twist around in his grasp even as a blade scraped against the mail across my back. 

I turned to see a small, grinning man I had not met before. Even as he smiled at me, he sank another blade into my liver. I collapsed, he escaped, and Lyrana broke the breastbone of this knight that had collaborated with the assassin. 

Later, Lyrana visited me in the healer's grove. It was nice.

Oh, and while the rest of our team was captured, we won a fair amount of coin, nearly doubling the amount I had already. I suppose that was nice too.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

The Exhaustive Fantasy Grounds Review

I've been using Fantasy Grounds actively for about 3 weeks now. I've been waiting to write this review until all the data is in. I think I can safely make an objective and unbiased judgement at this point. To be clear, I got a review copy for the purposes of writing this review—but that plays no role in the words you're about to read.

Part One: Mac and PC

I'm a mac user. I've always been a mac user. I will always be, for the foreseeable future, a mac user. This means that anything that doesn't work with some ease on the mac is something I'm not going to use. Especially not a roleplaying tool—I've deleted my bootcamp partition, I'm not going to rebuild it. Installing a wine wrapper counts as "some ease" for me at this point due to my quest for usable windows software that I can run on my mac. So props to FG for not only having a product you can put in a wine wrapper, but for hosting a thread on their forum that tells you how to do it if you're not familiar with things like winebottler.

Part Two: The Rules

Fantasy Grounds comes with some rules installed. These are, predictably, 3.5E D&D, 4E D&D, the Fantasy Grounds "core RPG" rules (not rules at all, merely a framework), Pathfinder, and Numenara. These were DEFINITELY not rulesets that my group was going to use. We play AD&D 2e exclusively when it comes to D&D games, and that's what we play most. For me to get any use out of this thing I was going to have to go on a quest.

It wasn't very long or hard to find pointers to other rulesets. The FG community has been developing them on their own time. And what's that? An AD&D ruleset ready for use right there. Not to mention Mongtrav, WHFRP, Ars Magica, and a bunch of other stuff? Alright, seems like I was worried for no real reason. Of course, once we all installed the AD&D rules and looked at them we realized that A) they weren't complete and B) they didn't integrate well with the updated version of Fantasy Grounds. You couldn't resize image windows or the chatbox. There were no X buttons to close character sheets, necessitating a right-click close operation. Yuck. Before we could use this thing, we had to update it.

Alex and I went on the monumental task of parsing the .xml rule files and figuring out how things worked. Over the course of a 20-30 man-hour week we managed to hack together a frankenstein ruleset out of the old AD&D 2e rules and the new coreRPG rules provided with the updated version of FG. It was not easy. It's still not done. It's usable though, if you click that link you'll find yourself at my dropbox address for it.

This was a massive barrier to entry, but luckily it only had to be done once.

Part Three: The Features

I'm gonna break this down real easy to start. Things I like: linking stuff together, importing images, battlemaps, party roster sheet, calendar, /ooc voice so I don't register all that greentext the players are constantly spouting, auto-calculated AC hit when making attack rolls. Things I don't like: shuffling through pages to find NPCs to spoof or stat, shuffling through pages for ANY REASON, rewriting vast swathes of rules, having broken the tables in our ruleset due to the way the AD&D sheet interacts with the chat box, my players complaining about the difficulty of learning and adapting.

Linking. You can link stuff together. Seems simple. Hyperlinked notes are a wonder. Unfortunately, they are much harder to navigate in practice. I'll stick to keeping my notes on paper.

Images. Best part about this system is the fast way to share images. I have maps of the great city of Miles, its environs, etc. all shared. I play online exclusively these days. This is the only way to ensure everyone's getting the information.

Battlemaps. I'm against lots of drawings and character portraits that are generic and all that. However, battlemaps can be handy in certain situations. Served us well in the manticore fight.

Party Sheet. Awesome way for tracking communal items and treasure. Hands down good feature.

Calendar. Boom, no more linking to a google spreadsheet I custom tarted up. Great feature. Had to program the calendar myself, struggled with zipping the folder that contained it over and over (har har, just zip the FILES, idiot) but GREAT feature. Needs to have the ability to keep track of multiple years, though.

Voice Modes. Great. Love it. Certain players hate it. Hate holding the extra button, typing /o, /a, whatever. Bad times for me, but at least it cuts out all the OOC chatter that clogs up the channel in IRC.

AC-hit. Thought it would be amazing. In practice it saves not that much time.

Shuffling through stuff. Screen real-estate issue and tactile nightmare. I prefer my actual notes.

Spoofing NPCs. I thought I'd hate this, but I've become proficient at it in three sessions. I'm cool with it now.

Writing the Rules. MAJOR bummer. We did it so you don't have to.

Player Complaints. A few. They will be given voice at the end.

Part Four: To buy or not to buy?

Do you have a large amount of disposable cash burning a hole in your pocket? Buy the Ultimate Edition so your friends don't have to pay anything. Otherwise, weigh your options. If you play PRIMARILY or COMPLETELY online, this is a way to bring that "table feel" back to the game. It allows for easy file management and image sharing, which is paramount in my experience.

HOWEVER, the price is very steep. Do all your friends have money to spare? Can you just play on IRC instead? Don't worry about it. This is a gaming luxury item. It's great to have, even with the headaches (unless your rules don't exist on it, in which case you have to be a masochist and a programmer to get them working, and aren't those two the same thing?) it adds a lot to the game.

Bottom Line: You got the dough and it has your rules, buy it. You don't, stick to IRC. If you want to ask me about specific features, email me at kestar@gmail.com and I'd be happy to go over them further and help you decide.

Player rebuttals and additions coming soon.

More Ice Age

Just, you know, some world maps of what is now being called Othanas.* Once again, lines by Steve colors by myself.

Without Text

With Text


*literally, the tearing or sundering land in the Mother Tongue (Mematavti), but with the punning double meaning of the place where men dwell (either from othom, to cut; root lexeme tom or from otho, man).

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Prehistoric Hijinks

In addition to some reviews coming up, the great times we're having running the Ironbreakers, writing a new novel, and co-writing a comic book with Steve...

Well, we've gotten ourselves into one of the most ambitious projects I've ever undertaken in the name of roleplaying. That is, to use GURPS to run every stage of evolution in a world. Details to follow, but here is a map of the Eemian Period of Calréos, after the Tyrnostias have begun the Small Eemian Ice Age and withdrawn to their eastern fastnesses.

The map is a collaboration between myself and Steve (I colored, he provided beautiful linework).


Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Character Journal: Quintus

From the parchments of the thief Quintus, member of the Ironbreakers.


THE SEVENTH OF WHATEVER I’M NOT BUYING THIS MONTH FROM HYDROPHIS

I’m trying to make sense of it. It floods back in pieces, first my name, worthy of what an ass absentmindedly produces as it grazes. Quintus. Yeah that’s who I am, Quintus the runaway, the sinner, the hero. I remember leaving home, I remember the day before Guilbertus with his lute. Without him, well, I would’ve run away sooner, or maybe not at all. After what happened--Ok whoa wow, that’s not the story I’m trying to make sense of. Right. So here’s the facts, bed, two women, my backpack tossed aside, my sword on the floor against the wall. Right. Today is the eighth, and the story begins on the sixth.

The ride into the city wasn’t so bad, a little bit of tablets, a little bit of cheese, a lot of wine. Thank whoever you believe for the wine. Let me tell you, since there’s no way YOU would know what it was like. Alright so the, “revel” yeah that’s the word the seiur used. Anyways, the revel after the death of a manticore is remarkable. I’ve never seen so many people celebrating, and celebrating us! I must have had like seven cups of wine. The morning came quick, and sudden--like the death rattle of a fierce beast (heh the manticore’s deathrattle).

The sun hurt, I recognized this tint of dawn with reluctance, this was when we’d have to wake up for the long days on the farm, the grey-green shade of the grass outside as the sun slowly crept along the sky. My head pounded and I worried that I had died, that the defeat of the manticore was a dream brought on in my death. An attempt to cope with the brutal failure. But that couldn’t be the case, there was too much pain for death, and I guess also she was there. I felt a little bad that I didn’t remember her name, or her face.

Envy, I am envious of her, that was what _________ (note to self write in his name if I remember it) taught me, the word that painted us black. Made us steal what we didn’t have from those who didn’t deserve to lose it. I envied her so much right now. She was face down, snoring, bare (alluring) ass to the world. Yet here I was, in unimaginable pain, seriously there could be nothing worse than how my mind pulsated that dawn (oh how wrong and naive I was). In the end I just sat up staring as the world was painted by the sun, eventually I heard Seiur Alan in the commons and gathered my wits. At least some of the pain left as the night retreated under the glare of the horrible demon which is the sun.

Like I said though, the ride was not bad at all. Free pork and wine beat down the pain to a dull throb that I was almost able to ignore. The march back was uneventful, at least I paid little attention to the prattling of my new allies (friends?) and those who were our allies by way of coin. I learned a little of tablets, apparently the old boys would just lie to me to take whatever meagre coins we gathered. Thanks guys, oh well, I guess you fuckers got a taste of the true balance or whatever that Clasmus guy was going on about.

I remember thinking often about what he meant, about us bringing evil into the world by killing the evil creature. Surely if something only killed and spread pain then killing it would be an act of good, and could not create evil. In the end I gave up, the throbbing kept preventing me from forming a cohesive argument (yeah that’s totally it heh) about what he said. Hopefully in our travels I’ll find someone who can explain it to me a little bit better.

Anyways we rolled up into the city and some guys were whining about their job, man my job is awesome. I got to order people about (one totally fucking died, bummer) and then we killed a manticore (I hope nobody points out that I didn’t physically touch it). Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to be hit by one of the “quills.”

So the dork guy who told us to kill the FOUL LION BEAST (nice going there bub it was a manticore not a lion, and he’s supposed to be wise or some drek right, pfft whatever chump) was doing some gross stuff to the uh, reviewer who is writing about the tower hotel (nice place, excellent wine, if you’re a wine guy and you’re reading this: First off how did you get this and why are you reading this? If you’re my friend and I’m alive please stop, it’s not nice, secondly definitely get some of their good stuff). Like his (the reviewer’s) chest was all messed up, looked like a diseased hog anus, just gross fluids left and right going every which way.

Anyways the dork guy had some kind of lame shit about healing and doing good, I don’t know. I liked the sound of the balance, I feel like I wouldn’t fit in with this healing and do good stuff. I wonder if there’s someone I can talk to about this, maybe they could help me find my place in the world. Maybe this is my place. Ordering people to die then getting all the glory, wine and women.

The evening sucked though, it made me miss the lazy ride into the city. Seriously we spent probably 3 watches just arguing about buying a cart or not, we had like a million pounds of coins that we needed to move around, and we couldn’t use Hydrophis’ cart since it was a rental. Eventually we decided to buy a cart and an ass, Tholindus is pretty cool. He looked healthy enough to me, we also decided to get a saddle for him (I figured we wouldn’t really want to ride him, plus he already was pulling all our shit, no need to put more shit on him (like a big fat caesar, heh, oh man Caesar if you’re reading this just chill man I always thought you were the 2nd coolest in our group, I guess now you’re the coolest if I’m dead)).

Then the glorious was bestowed upon me. The city erupted, like, uh, well I guess like a dick, or like an animal that is small and gets squished by some huge thing. Hopefully I’ll learn a better thing to say instead of dick eruption. Anyways, the city, the boring shitty huge city with only a few good places (pubs) suddenly became the greatest place I had ever been.

Everyone was drunk (except the guards lol, man what shitty lives they live, I bet they go home to their wife who is also a guard, because honestly who else would want to be with a guard--I wonder if they share wives if there’s more male guards than female guards, anyways they go home to their wife and they just like, sit there, with their heads in their own hands groaning about how shitty it is to be a guard) and there was amazing stuff everywhere. I was amazed.

Lucanus kept going on about how cool the bohort was going to be (or something I don’t know I didn’t listen to him) as we journeyed to somewhere. The point isn’t where we were going ok, but there were women everywhere, and men too. All of them were drunk, and some had balls they were tossing in the air (looked kind of cool but they looked stupid at the same time) and some REALLY flexible women if you know what I mean. What I mean is they could like, bend backwards and touch the ground, it was astounding. I didn’t know the body could do that, maybe they had magical backs or something.

So we get to this boring field, and there’s like no hot dancers (although if I stood up on my toes balancing I could see some of ‘em) but there were tons of hotties around. Also some guys were lining up or whatever, but the important thing was, I was getting my drink on.

I must have had like ten wines. Skins? Jugs? Cups? Why can I remember the number ten. Look I’ll be honest it starts getting really fuzzy here. I don’t even remember finishing one uh thing, cup, skin, jug, whatever, of wine. I don’t know why I think ten ok, I just do, just trust me on this one and go with it.

Anyways some lame peasants start hollering some such and generally pissed me off. I remember throwing a cup, hearing a shout, but nobody hit me, so everything worked out great. Also I caught the eye of some ladies, I decided in my head to settle for no less than two faceless nameless beauties that night. Why? I don’t know, uh absolute balance on my dick that’s why. Two girls, two balls. BAM! HOW’S THAT CLASMUS? Man I hope he was getting his drink on, dude was super depressing and high strung. Maybe one day I’ll share a skin or jug (maybe one each) with him and he can explain more about this balance thing. Although I’m fairly confident that I’m getting the hang of it.

Like I said, this part was pretty fuzzy, I remember the asshole beside me droning about pictures or some shit, and eventually shouting and waving his stick around. I was in the zone however, at least I think I was. I would talk up this girl real good, be all over her, but they rarely liked the idea of a second. I remember drifting between women, losing the first one to some other guy as I secured a second. One slapped me, I remember that much. I nearly fell. I caught my balance on the chest of another. LUCKILY she didn’t slap me, that could’ve been an uhnfouhtoonaht (fuck you Hydrophis I don’t need to pay you for words) unfortunate (ok maybe I do) chain of slappins and grabbins.

Anyways I remember taking her and her friend back to my place, I don’t remember how long we spent at that shitty field, I don’t actually remember walking back to my place. I do remember the sex though, well parts of it. It got pretty wild and I don’t think Hyrophis would appreciate helping me describe it, so I’ll just jot down some of my feelings that I recall:

Yes, yes, oh yes, do that some more
You’re putting what where
WOW I AM SO LUCKY
(man there’s got to be more to life than this)
THERE IS NOTHING MORE TO LIFE THAN THIS
OH YOU WERE SO RIGHT
ungh no just ungh please let me
Sure I’ll wear that
Please take this off me
Ok maybe we can leave it on for a little bit

Now, most of those memories are surrounded by a black haze and I’m not sure how much time I’ve lost to the drink. Right now all I hope is that I live long enough to enjoy next year’s celebration. I hope I don’t have to kill something innocent to balance out how killer this event was.

Friday, May 16, 2014

Fiction Friday: Border Wars in the Serpent Baronies

Battle report using Knights and Knaves turned into a little short tale.

Courtney Lord Montrose narrowed his eyes. "Keep your swords loose in their sheathes. There's no telling if Arborenne spotted us." Hadrian wiped his forehead leaving a streak of glistening oil across his brow from the mail glove that sheathed his hand.

"Sieur?" he asked. "Do you think he'll ride to meet us?"

The Magnas of Montrose felt the familiar tickle of anger in the back of his mind, the same invitation to rage that plagued him every time he thought about Conon of Arborenne. What horrific image did he see when his mind pointed to the image of the Magnas of Arborrenne? Olyvia, Olyvia, always Olyvia, waiting cold and lonely in her bower—Olyvia burning when the manor burned because she was locked away. He would feel the bite of lance and sword, would Conon, if it was the last thing Courtney did in the Middle World. I will put the tip of my lance through his jaw and see it come bloody from his skull. Let him go to the Lower World with half a face.

Philippus called out from behind them, "There're slingers across the river! Looks like he's seen us after all, my lord!"

Wheeling his horse, Courtney saw the men at once; a ragged platoon of farmers with sickles and pitchforks all arrayed upon a narrow ridge amongst the brush. They were limbering sling-thongs and searching for rocks, preparing to pelt Courtney and his household soldiers from the supposed safety of the riverside. Lord Montrose let out a whistle and dug his heels into Blackspur's flanks. "Fuck 'em, lads! Turn about and charge!" and then he was flying at a gallop, Blackspur throwing up clods of earth and Hadrian gritting his teeth to follow. Courtney could hear Barliman speed to a trot, to a canter, and then a gallop as Blackspur did. He lowered his lance and plunged into the river.

Sarjeant Adwardus and his men grasped spears and shields firmly in hand and followed, the water sucking and swirling at their long mail byrnies. Let Conon discover that his men at the riverbank were routed. Let Conan feel the terror of battle that cannot be turned aside! As Blackspur climbed the far bank, the farmers began to shake and howl. One threw down his pitchfork and fell into a dead run. "At this rate we won't even have to bloody our swords!" Phillippus hollered.

Within moments the conroi was up on the far side of the river, limbs throbbing with the pain of resisting it in heavy mail. The peasantry simply wouldn't stand before a destrier, and they shouted and took to the wood. Courtney spun to his men who had yet to enter the water, household armigeri all, and shouted across the gap to Sarjeant Theo: "Take your men to the ford and lay into anyone you find there! We advance on the village on this side of the river!"

"Aye, sieur!" Theo said. "Come on, you louts, we've a lordling to spank." His men chuckled as he drew back.

For Courtney's part, he rushed forward to follow the fleeing peasants, Hadrian close at hand. The horses tore through the scrub and undergrowth as though it were made of thickened cream. Courtney bore down on the back of a fleeing levyman when the fellow spun about and launched one of his sling-stones at the lord. Courtney sneered, trusting to his armor to protect him, but the smooth stone hit Blackspur and sent the horse into a rage. "Sieur! SIEUR! I can't control... I can't control Barliman!" Hadrian was screaming through the wood. But Courtney had no time to consider his squire's pleas, for Blackspur surged forward and bore him face to face with the peasant who'd flung the stone. A single thrust through the breast speared the poor bastard and sent him to his grave. Not quickly, no, for by the Gods the man survived only to fall quivering and twitching in the dirt, making little groaning sounds as his blood spilled from the garish wound the spear-head made.

With time to yank his spear out and get a good view of the field, Courtney turned back to Adwardus. He saw Hadrian disappearing through a group of trees, Barliman's mouth frothing blood. "S-s-sieeeeeur!" Hadrian howled as he vanished. Courtney sighed. The rest of his men were in good order and seemed ready to take the battle to Arborenne. "Quickly, then. Let's high north to the village and show the great Magnas Conon what we think of him."

But that was easier said that done, for now Blackspur was mad with his wounds. He leapt and bucked each time he saw one of the slingers through the trees, and often took Courtney far off his path. Adwardus hurried on towards the village, and soon enough the sounds of battle began to carry through the hall of boughs and brush that made up the little Arborenne forest. "Damn it," Courtney huffed, wrestling Blackspur back under control. "Move, you cur!" The horse neighed, turned its head, and then at last began to surge towards the village.

Courtney emerged from the trees and into the one muddy street of the town with briars in his mail and a branch tangled amongst Blackspur's gonfalons. Adwardus and his men were already crossing the ford some yards ahead and beyond them Courtney could see a press of peasantry blocking the road, crammed between two timber-framed houses. Their backs were turned to Adwardus, who would have the drop on them, but beyond that he saw why: the other platoon was dying. Theo and the men who'd accompanied him were waist-deep in gore, doing battle with three mounted knights. Several of them had already fallen.

Then Courtney saw Conon and his vision went black with rage. "Olyvia! OLYVIA! OLYVIAAA!" He struck Blackspur so hard that the destrier had no choice but to thunder forward at a break-neck pace. His own men dove to get out of his way as he came reaving from behind, his lance lowered for the final charge. Conon's helmeted face was not so far away now, and this spear was made to bring him his death! But what...? Lord Conon was withdrawing from the battle, backing his horse away from his foes. The coward! "COWARD!" Courtney bellowed. "Fight me coward!" But even as he did, he slammed his spear into one of the levymen who had been hard pressing Carnas there.

The man staggered, the tip of the spear pierced his shin and slammed against the bone... but somehow he was still standing. "Damn you!" Courtney yelled. "Damn you!" he repeated, for lack of anything better to say, practically hurling his blade from its sheath. He hacked at the peasant he'd struck, cutting through cotton tunic and flesh, driving the killing edge of the sword into his throat. But when he looked up to adjudge the battle he saw Conon had not fled after all—he had merely charged to meet the onrush of new foes, and even now his mace was rising from the crushing blow that had dented Adward's helmet and driven the peak into his brain.

"Withdraw! Carnas! Withdraw! We will be slaughtered here!" Desperate, Courtney fended off the sword-blows of one of Conon's mounted squires. He pulled back with the image of the boy's upper lip pressed into his memory: just the very first hairs of manhood, pale and blonde, upon that trembling blood-spattered face. Carnas listened, but not before cutting the squire's mount down from beneath him with his spear and planting the point at the boy's throat.

"Surrender! I surrender!" Carnas dragged him to his feet and the three men staggered away from the battle. Courtney prayed that Conon would not finish his butchery in time to take them on the road.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Telecanter's Campfires

Telecanter just recently made a post about campsites and making them feel more integral to D&D. I've been thinking about this idea, mulling it over. It helps that Ravencrowking posted about it the other day as well, getting me to jump back to it. Here's how I see it playing out in the Tenth Age:

Regular healing in the 10th Age looks like this:

Day of Complete Rest (in a bed, in a settlement): 1d4 hp recovered
Day of Traveling/Resting in the open: 1 hp recovered
Addition of a medicus: +1 hp recovered

The new proposed system would look like this:

Day of Complete Rest: 1d4+1.5 hp recovered
Medicus' Attentions: +1.5 hp recovered
Day of Resting in the Open: 1 hp recovered
      Presence of Fresh Food: +0.5 hp recovered
      Presence of a storyteller or musician: +0.5 hp recovered
      Presence of a campfire: +0.5 hp recovered

Half hitpoints are not recovered at all unless they equal a whole hitpoint.

Furthermore, Osvean priests (who are priests of the hearth) may bless each campfire to provide a CoP Evil 50' if they cast a bless spell on it when it is built. The Circle of Protection vanishes once the fire goes out for any reason.

Monday, May 12, 2014

The 10th Age: The Comforts of Civilization

Frequently, Dungeons and Dragons takes PCs well beyond the bounds of civilized lands. The most common settings are those at the very marches of settled kingdoms, facing wilderness, foreign enemies, humanoid foes, and other such nastiness. Commonly, the great empires of the ages past are little more than memories, leaving their marks in the form of ruinous welts upon the land. Adventurers are warned to pack a lot to drink because streams and rivers may not be common, to load up on food because the hunting may not be good, to take everything they might need with them and be prepared to walk miles in the wilderness away from all civilization and without good roads, trails, or markers.

So what happens when your adventures are no longer taking place in a great and wild wilderness with only a single large city nearby to call home base? What happens when, for example, you adventure in the capital of all civilized lands, in the heart of human settlement, in the Mother City of Miles? Well, you can reap the rewards of settlement and cultivation, that's what.

The first, most vital, and overlooked thing is that water is plentiful. Great cities are provided with public wells and fountains. The roadsides (and yes, these are real paved roads, not just the simple dirt tracks most kingdoms dare to call highways) are dotted with convenient locales to refill your water, allow your mount to freshen and drink or just graze. Water, the stuff of life, is critically important to adventurers whether they realize it or no. You can't just travel assuming you're going to get the chance to fill up your water skins every single day in the wild—unless the "wild" is the long snaking highway of the Pillar Road, or the Coast Road, or the Oakway, or the Greenway. Yes, there's something to be said for civilization after all.

The second important element of a well-maintained public works is that of the waystation or mansio or viator's stop. These can vary from a small inn-house to a walled town, but in all cases they exist solely on the emperor's coin and primarily in order to provide imperial messengers (viators and Sacred Heralds) with fresh mounts each day. In order to defray the cost of operating mansios and waystations, the emperor's servants often take in guests and caravaneers traveling the highways. Sometimes they forward the excess fees to the emperor and the imperial purse actually makes a profit, but mostly they just keep whatever's left over for themselves. And why not? The notion of corruption and misappropriated funds is much weaker in Arunia as people aren't expected to separate public and private personae.

Civilization also provides good access to healers. Wherever a city stands, physicians and medici must be in attendance. These men and woman can only be supported by major urban centers. In all other cases, a town or ville is likely to have only one or two, a flock of less reputable folk, and perhaps a few cunning men or women who make their living by mumbling magic words and giving folks nettle tea.

Demographic diversity is also much more prevalent in large urban centers like Miles. These cities rely on their position on trade routes (or trade routes rely on the wealth of these cities, depending on the details) and trade routes bring contact with the outside world. Dwarven forges, elvish workshops, and gnomish cartwrights can be found in profusion in Miles—and where there's profusion, there's price competition, tending to drive prices downward (though the expense of living in Miles drives them back up again; the battle of pricing is a difficult one in the center of the empire).

There's always plenty to do in great urban centers for adventurers, from exploring the ancient and august sewage system inherited from the Second Empire to being the political bullies of one faction or another. Factors, magnates, merchants, and more all have needs to be seen. While there may be a dearth of dungeons proper, the other types of work more than make up for their presence (or absence). Smuggling rings, assassinations, tavern brawls, and more will provide myriad and sundry options for those thrill-seekers who choose to stay in Miles or any other great city.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

NPCs and Death

I play AD&D by the -10 rule to allow for PCs to bleed out before death. Most battlefield casualties come from blood loss. I have spiced it up a little, though, as PCs lose 1d4 hp per round once they're below zero, not just the standard 1. The real question is, what does this mean for NPCs and monsters? Should they simply fall down dead at 0 hp? Is that likely, desirous, or even fun? No. After playing the excellent playtest rules for Feudal Anarchy (aka Medieval Hack), I have been convinced of the utility and wonder of finding dismembered, bleeding, badly wounded, or unconscious NPCs at the end of a battle. So what is my system for determining if someone is dead?

Currently, I don't have one. I simply let my whim decide if an orc that's been skewered is dying or already dead. This seems to me to be a rather haphazard and, if I may say so, arbitrary way of figuring out if the great lord the PCs just skewered is in his death throws or if they can take him captive and use him as a bargaining tool. The simple fact is NOT EVERYONE TOO WOUNDED TO FIGHT IS DEAD. In fact, generally, in most medieval warfare, those too wounded to fight are rarely dead.

I normally just record foe hp and then cross it out as the foe is damaged. This new proposed system will add marginally more work to that method, but I believe it will (compared to the work added) greatly increase the complexity of player choice and interaction as well as the realism of any given fight. The system I propose is as follows:

If an NPC is reduced to 0, they have a base 10% chance of being mortally wounded at the end of combat.

For every point below 0 they are reduced to, this chance is increased by 10%.

All NPCs below 0 hp will need to be tended to by a healer. In order to recover a character who has been non-mortally wounded, the healer must make a healing prof check. This check suffers a -1 penalty for every ten minutes since the battle has ended. Each attempt to heal a dying man takes ten minutes.

Thus:

Gilberte, Francis, and Hadrian are fighting the men of the Count de Coer. There are three foes, all of whom are downed. One man is reduced to -4hp, another to -8hp, and the last to -1hp. These are 50%, 90%, and 20% chances of being mortally wounded respectively. When the PCs check on the dead, the DM rolls... 19, 27, 76. The first two men are beyond saving, dying messily. The last is not mortally wounded, but will require a healing check to stabilize. None of the men were necessarily unconscious (that's up to the DM). This last man can now be taken as prisoner.


Monday, May 5, 2014

Necromantic Tomes

(For a further understanding of the 10th Age beliefs on the soul, see Avaridus and the Soul)

I like to tell wizards exactly what books they recover if books are to be part of a treasure horde. "1,400 gold worth of manuscripts and tomes" (one, two, or three books) is much less appealing than On the Nature of Magic, The Root of Alteration, and The Gold Codex, isn't it? Of course, this brings us to the idea of medieval and classical naming of books, which I tend to intermix in the Tenth Age. The idea of  "books" as we understand them today didn't exist prior to the printing press. Every individual manuscript was a unique object. Sometimes, only the best parts were copied by scribes, sometimes they were rearranged to form something more useful to the individual copying them, sometimes they were interlaced with other material, sometimes they were amended if the copyist disagreed with a certain argument... books were unique. Often, then, the names of books in the 10th Age are taken from the first line, from the first heading, from the physical description of the book as a whole, or from the contents in toto.

It is perhaps important to note that in the 10th Age after the brutal Wars of Necromancy (9th Age) that saw so many corpses march down from the north where customs are not to burn bodies but to bury them, that the art of necromancy recieved a black name. Elves, having always despised it and being most affected by the losses of the War, began to hunt down and destroy necromantic books. Human kingdoms mostly began to outlaw the practice (at least, those "sane" places did; necromancy can still be openly practiced in lands like Essad, Soloth, and the Free Cities) resulting in a stoppage to the flow of necromantic knowledge. Now, in the 10th Age, most human wizards ignore this prohibition, which has caused a vast and many-armed trade network of black market books to become prevalent for mages to acquire the means to complete their libraries and do research in any scholastic field they wish.

To that end, here is a little table to let you roll up some necromantic tomes for when your PCs find some book-treasure.

1. Wyburn's Treatise (800gp, details the idea of the "false soul," describes how one may be made of negative energy, foundational necromantic text)

2. Magister Arman's Black Codex (600gp, lists of incantation-fragments)

3. On the Transmigration of Souls (1200pg, contains elements of Wyburn's Treatise and Arman's Black Codex)

4. The Book of the Underworld (450gp, details the movement of souls from the world of the living to the world of the dead)

5. On the Endless Night (300gp, disguised as a history of the Night Age, this book is actually a carefully constructed cipher that, when decoded, speaks of the elements of necromantic anatomy)

6. Codex of Dark Wisdoms (3500gp, a compilation of knowledge from Incantations, Larksong, and The Great Work, the Codex is a thorough guide to raising the dead and creating monstrous beings)

7. Incantations of the Sepulchre (2200gp, claiming to contain the knowledge of the ancient Khewedi priests, the Incantations actually introduces the reader to the various and sundry chants needed to execute moderately powerful necromancies)

8. The Body of Man (200gp, a simple anatomy book)

9. On the Unnatural Order (1000gp, a descriptive journey through the many types of undeath and death, the ways in which their false-souls operate, and the manners in which the magus may control them)

10. Vermelo's Canto (800gp, features many necromantic chants and incantations developed by the Dorlish wizard Vermelo, none of which details raising the dead at all but rather focus on the more base manipulation of life-energy)

11. Larksong Manuscript (1800gp, purporting to find the meaning of natural life in the song of birds, this manuscript is exceptionally hard to follow but does provide detailed, if obscure, insight into the operation of a number of necromantic principles)

12. The Sixfold Song (2000gp, a poem that, when deciphered properly, reveals extremely interesting and dangerous techniques for the transference of life-energy between living beings)

13. The Shell of Man (1500gp, a detailed manual which sketches the weakest portions of the human body, and the gates through which life-energy may be drawn; often disguised as the Shell of Man)

14. The Three Roads of Fear (1900gp, a manuscript that purports to answer all questions of binding and staying when it comes to energy and souls, emphasizing the palpable fear at the moment of death for effective magic)

15. The Banned Index (2900gp, a master list of incantations)

16. Serapis' Great Work (2200gp, a description of the life and works of the Chimeron wizard Serapis Blacktongue, which includes many of his theories)

17. The Book of Unspoken Whispers (1200gp, a manuscript containing lists of unspoken spell elements; somatic and mental components)

18. On Necromancy (600gp, more of a description of necromantic practices, written at great risk by Reynarius di Llun but never publicly attributed to him)

19. Severin's Manual (450gp, a foundational tome on basic necromantic works)

20. The Book of Poisons (5000gp, one of the hideous books of priests of the Necromancer. Contains unique necromantic spells)

Friday, May 2, 2014

Encounters and the Greed Calculator

Orcs, kobolds, goblins, bandits—what do they share? A preponderance to trust overwhelming force when ambushing adventurers. While orcs may simply jump out and attack, bandits and even goblins would almost always (at least in the 10th Age) prefer to threaten, to gain money without bloodshed. Yet, it's possible to roll an encounter that doesn't include enough of any of these types of creatures and outlaws to make even a halfway decent attack on a well-armed (or even a poorly) armed party. Let's take an example whereby six adventurers, obviously badly equipped but with a camp-watch going, are in the depths of a forest. An encounter is rolled, and it indicates 4 orcs.

Would four orcs likely attack a party that outnumbers them by two men? Perhaps, if they had assurances they could kill at least three or four people in the initial raid. But the likelihood is low—in fact, being outnumbered in this way might very well provoke a morale check from the bloodthirsty orc raiders before they even set upon the PCs. Logically, the DM might simply decide that no encounters of any meaning would occur unless they reached a certain threshold (we'll call this number n) of monsters based on the size of the party (call this x) and the intelligence/cowardice/greed of the monster or bandits in question.

For example, the 2e MM tells us that kobolds will never attack unless they outnumber their foes two to one. This means the threshold for an encounter in which kobolds attack is always at least n=2x. More potent looking parties will increase the value of n, while greedier, more bloodthirsty, or braver monsters will decrease this value. It's out of the question to assume that a DM would need to make recourse to an algorithm every time he needs to check if a group of monsters attacks, however, so these calculations are all hidden and come down to the DM "feeling" what is correct in the given situation. These feelings can be tuned by forethought—if you consider a few factors before hand, you'll be more likely to make accurate and verisimilistic judgements in game.

Here's a quick breakdown to illustrate the idea.

Bandits - don't want to risk their lives for nothing. Generally, bandits will require n=3x+ to ambush a party at rest or n=2x if they have some major material advantage (for example, they've blocked the road and there are archers hiding in the woods).

Goblins - follow the same rules as bandits, but tend to be more cowardly. They will not ambush without n=3x+4.

Orcs - bloodthirsty. They will take their chances with n=x+2 or higher.

If the party appears to be levels 3-5 or well-armed, all previous equations double.

But this brings up another note—for ease of calculation, this ignores all parties of enemies less than n. However, these parties don't disappear. They should still be rolled. If there are patrols or watchmen at the camp, they can perhaps find evidence of the smaller parties watching the camp... or, even better, if these small parties are not destroyed, killed, or driven off, the next evening may see an encounter of monsters with n number. Oh, ho, ho~