A Dungeon Crawl Classics RPG.


Recent Posts

RE: Questions
Adric Wymarc
Robin,
I have some questions after the last session;

1. I want Matalure to join me as a Demi god.
2. What happened to the army, the arc, our ship?
3. What was Skoulous doing there?
4. Does Ixion stay loyal? How many undead remain?
5. Study arc before returning it in one year.
6. Does the rain and magic issues end with the end of BBBB?
7. I shall name Chelicer as my successor.
8. Chelicer will use Ixion, undead and arc for further conquest. Mostly against other evil races that pose a threat. He will not break the deal with the dwarves or our daughters.
9. Clive and Jack return head to Oyanen?
10. I Guide the Delvo through my cult and Chelicer.
11. Have our Grand daughters colonize the valley.
12. What powers am I allowed to have as a demi god. Do I need weapons and armor anymore? Can I have an avatar? etc.


1) She will have to earn her way there. You are not powerful enough to grant that yet. You may still visit her though, in a way.

2) The army remains with the Delvo realm though the allies return home. The undead remain as a gift though the arc returns.

3) He was freed by agents of Bobugbubiltz to create uncertainty in the allied army via you. Ojanen is quite displeased when she learns this.

4) Yes, roughly half.

5) Done.

6) Yes.

7) OK.

8) Ok. Roll d20

9) Yes.

10) Ok.

11) OK. This is time consuming. Roll d20.

12) These are based on your followers. Right now not much more than visions (vague) and the like. You have to save up energy to effect the realm.

Weapons and armor are helpful as other demigods test you and they utilize them. Pecking order and all. Highlander style ish. Defeat thy enemy and gain a portion of their power. Difficult to be destroyed completely but easy to loose power/influence.

You can have an avatar as you gain power. More powerful gods have more powerful avatar(s). Worshipers is the key.
Session: This is it. - Wednesday, Nov 20 2013 from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM
Viewable by: Public
0 comments
Aftermath


As the time approached I debated what to do. Would I stay aboard the ark, or even the ship, or would I accompany the rest to the ground? I saw little purpose with all of the troops. Each of my companions seemed to have far more behind them than the splinter of the man that remained within.

The Ark made me very uneasy. If Zome had not designed it what would it be but another abomination of the corrupt one. Zome the one eyed still lived, something few men would even know to doubt. Grandmother never mentioned the name until after her first falling, when she almost ready for the Mother's final gift. But she like I had unfinished business.

I was that business. I had yet to see my tenth summer. During the next three years before she finally let go some of the most important lessons to be learned were taught. She had eluded to the boy named Jack I often played with. He had I had been drifting apart for some time and never reconnected until that fateful night.

Now only Jack and I remain beneath the same stars. The ones of the tower seem to have enamored him. That concerns me but if things transpire as my heart feels only he will assure the bargain with Ojanen will hold.

Perhaps with the brief time together I will ask of him how he will avoid making some of the same mistakes. I'd hate to see these dark ones with so much power. It would not be long before one of their own would fall from the Mother's grace. For now I will let the tower stand, the Mother will claim it in her own time.

The instincts of the farmer in me called for a simple solution. Allow the cleansing fire of the Mother's wraith to reclaim our former home. Leave nothing, only the seeds of first plants could claim anything in time. But what has happened will be better in the long run. The Mother's wisdom is unbounded.

The spirit of the boy is still strong within but the farmer is gone save for who he was by my grandmother's passing. Clive is no more, only "Newon," remains. Grandmother had always told me it had been my name in the language of her people. What passed in the instants as the others passed to immortality finally told me what it truly meant.

I did not wish to remain with Adric and Thorgar. In the moments I stole a glance at the Mother, Mara and Miranda in the chamber around me I knew it was not yet time to join the great hunt. My work was still unfinished.

I passed into the moonlit forest, my form now no longer a shadow of Nymar but likely his equal. My instincts were still the same as his mighty white figure leap to the rocks before me. I cowered and tucked my tail until he spoke.

"Rise Newon, as I was the guardian of the past ages you now stand as the guardian of the ages to come."

In the next moment I was the boy, who I had been when grandmother slipped a simple leather pouch into my hand. I sat by the fire with the human manifest of Mara, a scarred white haired warrior, Nymar and a third younger woman I had never met before, Miranda. She smiled at me and her eyes met mine, my human loins stirred at her attention.

In the voice that had seduced gods and men alike she spoke.

"Clive, or as you will be called among men, Newon, the time ahead will be full of trials. Men are curious creatures. There power lies not within a single quality but in their ability to adapt and learn. For the next millennium my Mother calls on you to guide the men of the world back into her reverence, know my sister's light and to seek the nourishment suckling at my own and my daughter's teats and to know the council of my many sons."

The boy in me found the literal idea of Miranda's teat in my mouth enthralling. She smiled at me with a knowing glance and then I found myself again with four legs. Nymar, Mara and I stood on top of a great mountain looking over what must be the entire world.

"Go to your daughters Newon," Nymar began,"teach them well and send them into the world."

Mara continued, "through them the blood of the first guardians continues into the coming age. As Mother first made the watchers to walk among and watch the curious race of men so might they become. But to do so will require a trial. One that you must watch over. Choose the ones you give this gift well, for those who do not understand are doomed to fall into the sway of the unspeakable one."

"How I judge their worthiness I will seek the Mother's guidance, but of the nature of the trial?" I asked.

Mara continued, "the gift is imparted as it always has, with a bite. You will taste the blood of your daughters and lead them through the transformation. The pain of the change is great, to fight it leads to madness. Kill any that cannot accept the gift as the Mother intended no matter how your heart may plead with you. Those who accept the gift must do the same. The gift will enable your daughters to travel swiftly with four legs, to call the packs of the true to their side while being able to walk among men when they need.

Make them understand that anytime they walk on all their legs and the blood of a man is drawn the means of the gift will be given. To leave one alive or unguided will give the unnamed one a new servant. When guided, they will have the strength of the pack with them and with this strength will do the Mother's will.

You must understand this is true of you as well, even though you will never take the form of the man you once were. Only the boy remains, only the boy can walk among men, ever young, as you were on the day you received your grandmother's talisman. So Newon go now and gather your daughters. Teach them first the lessons of your grandmother. Bring them all to know the many gifts the Mother offers so none fear her final gift. Then take them to the world."

I then found myself besides my friend Jack's side. Whether he understood that the next age had just begun I could not be sure. With his familiarity with the creatures of the tower I would be cautious in what I told him. But I knew it was up to me to council him so the new age did not begin as the last had ended.

Session: This is it. - Wednesday, Nov 20 2013 from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM
Viewable by: Public
0 comments
Immortal Thorgar
Thorgar appears as a grizzled old dwarf wearing a fine suit of dragonscale mithril plate mail (scales embossed with a 'medusa' image). He has a face on both sides of his head, and his helmet has a stylized face-plate on both sides as well. He typically covers his finery with a patched and worn sergeant's uniform... preferring not to draw too much attention.

When aroused, blue lightning crackles over his skin (often unleashed upon his foes). In addition, he is able to conjure a variety of weapons from thin air which fly true on his command. Finally, any who touch him unbidden turn immediately to stone.

Upon leaving behind the mortal world, he also left behind the mighty short sword Gwydain, and his Heavy Bronze Shield of Drunor. His first act as an immortal was to manipulate Gwydain to draw the attention of Sgt. Grimtooth of the dwarven army. To him he gifted the sword and shield, and the responsibility of watching his new followers over the years ahead.

Thorgar doesn't require worship in the traditional sense (ie: fine temples), but he has a special interest in the craftsmen and watchmen among his people. Priests and Paladins wear a necklace or armor-ornament of a bronze heart with a hammer and sword crossed over it (though they are ultimately loyal to the Great Shaper over all). Craftsmen show their reverence by tithing of their time to craft something useful for those in need. Many take to sprinkling fine pipeweed over their forge-fires during the process.

Finally, Thorgar begins influencing his people to go out into the world... to explore, trade, and normalize relations with other people's (particularly the Delvo, and their new immortal patron). He encourages them to use their skills to build more than just armaments... but also roads, bridges, mechanical devices, and art. While remaining vigilant against aggression, their main goals should be to become indispensable partners to neighboring states, and to improve the world around them for all goodly peoples.

On a minor note: he visits a respected elder sculptor in his dreams, and inspires him to build three statues in the dwarven mausoleum. One is a human warrior-woman bearing a mace & long sword; the next is a human knight wielding a spear & shield; the final one is a tall, stocky halfling armed with a short sword and dagger.
Session: This is it. - Wednesday, Nov 20 2013 from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM
Viewable by: Public
0 comments
Smells and other sign...


Should this place had been the first I encountered since beginning to walk on all fours it might have driven me mad. The odors of human societies are for the most part quite familiar, or at least fairly easy to put into context. The cloak and now my form simply augment the sensations I knew as a man. Sensations that are now far more complex and vivid, while these eyes may not see the colors I once knew as well my world is richer in many ways.

This place makes it difficult to relax completely. I never really was completely comfortable on the ship but even now the upper berth I claimed is the most familiar place in all of this difference. I have stole away on several occasions to curl up completely when the need for a deeper sleep calls. Otherwise stretched out on whatever floor of in front of whatever hearth I never completely sleep. Too many things that were strange, voices, smells, sights and sounds that have kept me on nearly perpetual edge. Now that the palace is in possession and as its many hallways and rooms become familiar I do find myself becoming less restless in its confines.

I cannot say I loathe this place as much as it becomes more familiar. It is every bit the nightmare of the best and scariest childhood "morality tale," more vivid in every detail although I have yet to discover the "newly captured child soup" that seemed to be the dish de jour of all of my mother's tales. I would not be surprised to find it but men have a value slightly beyond live stock. I sense a great deal more respect as Adric's "dog" than Jack truly receives. Men are known quantities to these dark ones, even ones with Jack's power. He would be better suited as a fox man in this company.

As we inherited the staff of the palace I have paid some attention to their speech and mannerisms. Some are familiar but I have yet to encounter a man slave who would be old enough to be one of our contemporaries as of yet. It is clear when a slave looses his or her utility they are "used" for other purposes.

Some were clearly born here. The youngest of the man slaves I have seen has maybe lived six or seven summers. They seem to be learning the tasks that will be expected of them in the near future. I can smell younger ones in their quarters but I never hear them. Perhaps they are too used to other "wolves" in their midst that they have learned that silence is life.

Since Adric has accorded some authority to the men of the staff they do seem more chatty. More speech gives me more time to listen. There are some from what used to be our village, or at least from where the toads now roam. I can't help but think that this existence is preferable to the alternative that home has become.

The slaves form the lowest caste of this society. The "common" folk of the city above them with a ruling elite apparently above all. Wedged between are a race of beings that must be one of Zome's more proud creations.

The lower castes of common folk seem to have but one ambition, rise to the elite. Ambitions that for most will never come to be. What power a commoner holds seems to be proportional to what they have to offer their overseer. For most this value ends with a violent death. Grandmother was right about many things.

The elite are cunning enough and individually strong enough to remain in the upper castes for others to notice that they are there. The failure of assent a constant reminder of the risks of power and privilege in this society. The females of the race have an upper hand. Many of the males seem to have too little of the qualities that make a husband useful to his wife in the societies of men and too many of the qualities that too often lead to a premature demise.

Proof of this lies with the fate of those caste off as the collateral damage in the struggle for power. The "dark", supposedly infallibly loyal guardians of the upper tiers are nearly exclusively female. Such an imbalance implies much in this society where guile and might make what is "right." It seems that the value of most males in this society is to die in the most useful way, presumably taking as many others opposed with you as possible.

Adric, or what Adric has become, clearly has thrown this society into a buzz. The new "queen" has taken the hive. Although I cannot help but think that Adric may be more akin to a mantis than a bee. While the elite of the society clearly procreate I suspect it is in this breeding, and the investments made, that truly make for shifts in the balance of power. One does not see, nor do I smell, many females with child in this society.

As the surprise and shock of our arrival wear off Adric is beginning to navigate the more treacherous pathways of politics. He has acquired an adviser who has counseled his to court the "princess" of one of the houses.

He invited her to the ship for a dinner and a brief cruise. Her smell was complex and initially enamoring, at least for me. The feelings of the basal instincts of a man mixed with that of my body were odd. Adric's head has not been bitten off at least as of now. His adviser says there is great power in winning this one, but a fat score of others heads have rolled trying.

Something is different about the smell of her. Something is not quite right. That something is likely the greatest danger. She simply does not pass the "smell test". Her odor is literally distinct in a manner I cannot quite describe. What is it?


Viewable by: Public
3 comments
Hammer, Anvil, Forge...
To state that I loathe being here barely begins to describe it. The man in me still remembers the tales of the "dark ones" of the forests to the south. I imagine in some societies tales are told to scare children with shadows of fables. Not so at home, the shadows of our cautionary tales were all around me.

The existence of our two people so close together was always tense. Perhaps the power that some fool sought from the toad was meant as a check of sorts. Peace was always best kept by vigilance and being a little more trouble that the reward that might be had. A simple "don't go there sufficed for most" at least between my immediate kin.

Adric, from what I remember of him as a child was the type that personified the lesson of mother's tales. His charmed life to the point of the portal seems a little clearer now. Its not that all woodsmen fell prey to the dark ones, but it was far more likely with the chance growing with the more chances one was willing to take. Adric was someone my mother told me to avoid but my grandmother always encouraged me to "watch with a wise heart, for there is much to be learned."

Few spoke openly of the dark ones. Grandmother was a quite exception. She had a strong respect for their ways. They used the Mother's gifts well in many ways. The scope of their lives were very different than our own.

We counted on the "complexity" of their society as the best defense of our way of life. To keep a pulse on their nation a few from Adric's kin became our peoples eyes. Adric had many of the talents but always was too easily seen. He was never one who was good at fading into the background. Being seen is something the eyes of the people avoid. Now in this place its clear Adric has always been in the vision of the people of the dark wood.

Our land was consumed by the toads. Our land must be cleansed. The Mother has ways of dealing with those who flaunt her gifts. Where there is wet their is dry. Where their is fire their is ice. Every day of life is another's final gift. Balance is the Mother's way. The toads have disturbed the balance.

Wet places are important but cannot be where they have no purpose in the Mother's way. There is much drying to be done in the land. Impurities in metal are brought out by the heat of the forge. The hammer sparks as the weakness flees its blows against the wall of the anvil. The dark ones seem to be a suitable hammer. Without a forge and an anvil a hammer has little use in purifying.



Viewable by: Public
0 comments
See more posts...
Game Master:
Setting:
Homebrew
305 other campaigns in this setting
Rule System:
See more...
Last updated by Robin (CrimsonFist)
on November 11, 2013 19:27
Last updated by MourningConstitution (ptolemy)
on May 02, 2013 16:49
Last updated by Robin (CrimsonFist)
on April 23, 2013 23:14
Bal
Last updated by Robin (CrimsonFist)
on May 03, 2013 18:38
Last updated by Robin (CrimsonFist)
on November 11, 2013 19:27
View all...
Tags: