reg
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Posts posted by reg
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Mk 2 flocksummtroculators - inflatable rubber water wings worn under the clothes for dwarves (they sink in my game). Inflated by a discreet pump in the pocket which the wearer has to squeeze vigorously and repeatedly.
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Urine lying undisturbed in normal soil away from sunlight and weather, better still strained through straw makes saltpetre ( hence churches and outhouses or barns were rich sources. The English even had an official collector with draconian powers of 'seize and digup'
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Didn't they used to collect salpetre from the floor of churches? - a product of the decomposition of urine - very long sermons and no toilets. Sounds purpose built for wfrp, caught digging up the floor of a church to steal manky pee, how do you plead? ("No, no it was the dwarf!")
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This scenario continues the adventures of the Trouser Bandits, a group of four ne'r-do-wells started in 'Cheap Tickets' and 'In a galaxy far, far away
Winds of change (1)
The man was big. And ugly. Very, very ugly. There were small tattoos, almost words, all up his arms and across his shaven head, as well as larger, picture-like tattoos down his chest, disappearing below the waistband of his trousers. He leaned forward into the face of the smaller, rattish-looking man and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. He glowered. “You’ve been asking questions. Lots of questions. I don’t like it.” He slid his hand round to take the man by the throat and, lifting slightly, raised him to his tiptoes. “Understand?”
His victim waved his hands as he slowly turned blue.
“What? said the big man, still squeezing but turning slightly to face his two equally disreputable looking companions. “I can’t hear you.” They chuckled appreciatively.
He dropped his victim onto the table, which collapsed. “Speak up, little man. Do you understand me?”
The smaller man crawled from the wreckage of the table, wobbling a little. He attempted to say something.
“Speak up!”
A strained cough and a pause, then, “Er, large yellow fruit that looks like a willy?*”
There was a puzzled silence as everyone in the tavern tried to puzzle out what had been said.
“What?” said the tattooed man, frowning. “Are you taking ... “
He was interrupted by the bonging sound of a wooden bench striking him on the back of his head, wielded by someone even uglier, even more tattooed than him. “Stitch that, Jimmy,” growled the one-eyed dwarf, as the big man slumped into unconsciousness.
Meanwhile, the man’s companions were having their own difficulties. A nattily dressed woman playing cards at the next table snatched up her drink and, throwing it into the eyes of one of them, stood and, almost carelessly, kicked him solidly in the testicles. An involuntary groan went up from all the men in the room.
The second man, jumping back from the melee, managed to get his sword half out before he felt a sharp blade digging lightly into his left kidney. He froze then flew backwards as the dwarf, turning away from the big man, hit him with his trusty bench.
There was a profound silence in the bar. These four had just taken down the hardest men in Ogasse in under a minute. What would they do next?
There was a giggle, and the man who’d held the blade moved forward. There was an evil light in his eyes as he stroked his dagger on his palm. “Let’s steal their trousers!”
(*I’ll explain later.)
Characters
Petra Nunce, Reiklander - ex-gambler, thief
Wesley Smitt, Reiklander - scout
Grim Grimmson, Dwarf - trollslayer
Jeremy Dewbender - apprentice grey wizard
Cat - a cat (and familiar)
After recovering in Ubersreik, the four adventurers set out for Altdorf. Jeremy, our grey wizards apprentice, must report the failure of his mission in Stromdorf; something the others have their doubts about (‘they’ll just blame us!’), but Jeremy persuades them to come with him. He suggests that they may well be rewarded for their part in the investigation, despite the not-so-favourable outcome for the inhabitants of the town. After some debate, the rest of the Trouser Bandits agree, partly because Jeremy lets slip he has lodgings in the city payed for by his well-to-do parents (He’s rich? Petra is already in love!), and partly because the magistrate investigating the disaster has been looking to apportion blame for the mishap.
Getting to the city proves remarkably easy; Petra ‘finds’ a gold piece in her super-secret boot cache (left over from the Stromdorf debacle), and offers to pay for the others tickets as long as they pay her back. Much shouting and arguing ensues, and Petra finally agrees, in a headlock, to pay all the travel expenses gratis, with the promise of some vague future favour.
And so to Altdorf, city of shining spires. After an uneventful journey, the four desperadoes (plus cat) are dropped off in the Konigsplatz, midst the hustle and bustle of the great city. Wes stands staring with his mouth open, pointing in wonder, and is pick-pocketed almost immediately. Jeremy, having lived here for many years, has all his valuables secreted in an inside pocket, whilst Petra nods and strokes her nose in a certain way, and is miraculously left alone. Grim, having no visible hiding places except down the front of his trousers (shudder), is also left alone.
“This way,” says the wizard, leading the group off down the street. No-one has much sympathy for Wes’ losses, the general feeling about Wes being ‘what a plonker’. He takes to glaring at everyone nearby whilst clutching his dagger, and suddenly spinning around. This ensures everyone leaves him well alone, but make signs against the evil eye behind his back.
Jeremy leads his companions speedily across the great city, ignoring the sights. They pass the docks and cross over one of the great bridges, moving further and further into the old city, each step taking them deeper into the slums. By now, Wes is not the only one clutching at his weapons; Petra flips her tatty cloak off her shoulder for easier access to her sword, and Grim slows his walk to a lazy Troll-slayers strut, all glaring eyes and rolling shoulders.
Suddenly a group of dirty-looking men seem to materialize ahead, blocking the way, and Wes, Petra and Grim hurriedly pull out weapons. Jeremy, however, merely turns the collar of his cloak, showing a simple tin sword badge, and the gang stops, then slinks away.
“Nice,” says Petra, “but do you actually know where you’re going? This area’s a bit, well, tatty for one of the great colleges.”
Jeremy merely grunts, then stops in front of a sagging, four storey flophouse. He leads them down a dark alleyway next to the house, and stops before a scarred and warped door. “Here,” he says, leading them in.
Inside, they find a remarkably well appointed room. There are fine desks and a candelabra, as well as clear glass in the windows. A tall, thin servant seems to be expecting them and bows, before gesturing Jeremy forward. He waves the others towards a comfortable couch and table arrayed with a wide variety of cold meats and snacks, which they descend upon like wolves.
Strangely, time seems to pass in a rush, and before the ‘bandits more piratical instincts can kick in (some of the fittings are very fine indeed), Jeremy re-enters the room. He looks pale and worried.
“They’re talking about throwing me out of the College!” he whimpers.
There is a distinct lack of sympathy. “Oh dear,” says Petra, throwing olives up and catching them in her mouth. “Perhaps you could do something different?”
“Bunch of old men wearing dresses. Better of out of it, there’s something not right there!” growls Grim.
“Can I have your sword badge if you have to leave?” adds Wes.
Jeremy stands frozen, contemplating his companions complete indifference to his plight. “I have only one chance,” he says pleadingly. Blank apathy. He tries again, “Let me rephrase that. We have only one chance.”
Petra’s head raises in alarm. Jeremy continues. “We have only one chance if we don’t want to be handed over to the investigators of the unfortunate events at Stromdorf.”
This it seems, is a horse of an entirely different colour. “And what is it, exactly, we will be doing?” asks Petra, suddenly more focused.
“Well, it seems that one of the apprentices here, Herman Gratz, has disappeared somewhere in Ogasse ... “
The investigation
The four spend a very comfortable night in Jeremy’s digs (‘Treat it as your own home,’ he said, and they did, taking numerous small but valuable items away with them when they left). The next day they set out armed only with a sketchy description of Herman Gratz (‘skinny with a grey cloak. Oh, and a wizard’), and walk to nearby Ogasse to begin their investigations.
At the first tavern they reach on the edge of the Ogasse, the ‘Wren’, Wes and Grim pop in for a bit of ‘investigating’. They arrange to see the others back there later, and immediately start to research the ale. (Phil and Tish, who play these two, wont be joining in till later.)
Meanwhile, the remaining two stalwarts begin asking the locals wether they’ve seen Herman Gratz. Initially, Jeremy is completely shunned; he has a posh accent, he’s obviously a bit of a do-gooder, and worst of all, he’s a wizard; no-one wants to talk to him. Petra does better, she turns her cloak inside out, adopts a stutter, stoops and, with a shapeless grey hat stolen from a passerby pretends to be a scribe (her disguise card). She soon strikes up a conversation with a fellow scrivener, Rudo Rudsson, a dwarf. He shows her a poster for ‘the Monster of Ogasse’, and has several rather unusual explanations of what exactly it is. Nutter, is her estimation of the dwarf, and he knows nothing about Herman Gratz.
The two heroes push on into Schmutzplatz, a rather down at heels city square showing signs of former glories. They chat to a number of quite busy locals, before meeting one of the local watch, Captain Steik, who tells them more about the monster of Ogasse. He mentions a reward, much to the gang’s interest, but still nothing about the missing apprentice.
On the other side of the square, Petra sees a local shop she’s heard of - ‘Magpie’s Pawn Shop’, the base of a rather well-connected local fence. They enter, and Jeremy begins to browse, whilst Petra chats to the proprietor, Magpie himself, a rather well spoken halfling.
At the back of the shop, Jeremy comes across a collection of charms and knick-knacks, similar to the ones apprentices wear - there’s even a sword badge, like his own. The two attempt to question the fence about where they came from, but he’s reticent, claiming the man who sold them to him found them on the ground. Petra decides to come back later, out of disguise, and talk to Magpie again in her thief persona.
More walking and this time they reach another inn, the ‘Eagle of Luccini’. Dank, dirty and ill-lit (and this is the morning!), neither character is too keen to enter. Instead they chat to a local pie-seller, Thomas Bratchen, who can’t tell them anything about the missing apprentice, but gives them the names of a few people who have supposedly seen the beast.
By this time our two intrepid investigators are quite confused, and take time out to discuss the problem. Herman Gratz, by nature of being an apprentice wizard, is eminently noticeable, but no-one has seen him. Why not? On the other hand, everyone seems to have seen or heard about the monster. Are they connected in some way? Perhaps they are the same thing! Herman, somehow overcome by a stray magical vortex, is changed into the monster - he stays in this area trying to communicate with the people here, who just see him as a beast, and flee in terror! That’s why no-one has been killed by the monster, it’s just trying to talk to them!
[No, no, no. The beast was around before Herman disappeared, and what about all the magical knick-knacks? People have disappeared, you just haven’t found out about them! Once again the rock steady crew have got things completely wrong. I suspect Jeremy has a plan about trying to talk to one of the beasts if he can catch it. Gulp].
Anyway, the two investigators start out for the Wren to link up with Grim and Wes. They stop off at the local Shalyan soup kitchen, the ‘Dove of Love’, and chat to a couple of the priestesses there, Lena and Ethel, one of whom is even kind enough to serve them a simple snack of boiled eggs and bread (Uh oh!). They chat with the women, who know nothing about the apprentice, but have heard vague rumours about the monster of Ogasse.
(At this point the Ethel, evil cultist of Tzeentch, aware of the Trouser bandits investigations, decides upon more proactive measures. She fetches some of the eggs from the larder, but dosn’t have time to make sure they’re tainted - I give a 50/50 chance of eating a chaos egg. It would be too big a clue as to whats going on if one of the crew were to suddenly sprout tentacles, so I’ve decided to run the entire corruption thing a session late, ruling that mutations etc wouldn’t be instantaneous. Fortunately only Petra gets a demon egg, and passes her corruption test, but gains one corruption point).
Outside the soup kitchen Petra and Jeremy try to chat with a couple of the down and outs. One is terrified of Jeremy’s whole wizard-vibe and flees; the other asks for money for a meal, which strikes them as strange; why ask for money when there’s a whole soup kitchen full of (reasonably) tasty food next to you?
“Poison,” says the man, Joseph Hoppe, glancing around for eavesdroppers. “All the food here is poisoned, thats why everyone keeps disappearing. Last time I ate here I was sick for days.” He looks at the two companions carefully. “You didn’t eat here, did you?”
Jeremy looks a little green.
“You did, didn’t you?” Herr Hoppe backs away carefully then dashes off. “It might be infectious!” he shouts over his shoulder.
A little unsettled, Petra and Jeremy walk across Ogasse to the Wren, cutting short any more investigating (Tish and Phil - Grim and Wes - have just arrived). Seeing that the other two members of the gang are happily drinking, Jeremy sits down for a rest, feeling queasy. Petra, made of sterner stuff, heads for the toilets and changes out of her scribe disguise, then gets involved in a card game.
Almost at once the door to the Inn flies open and three large and angry-looking men enter. They glare around obviously searching for someone, then nod when their gaze rests upon the wizard. They walk straight up to Jeremy, flexing muscles and jutting their chins aggressively. They stop right in front of the hapless apprentice, and, grasping him by the throat, attempt a little intimidation.
When he’s able, Jeremy shouts “Large yellow fruit that looks like a willy!”
(What he meant to shout was ‘bananas! - a reference to the ’99’ call of the British Lions, which was a shout the group had worked out for instant bar-room brawl. I ruled that as Jeremy had never seen a banana he had to say something resembling it. It very soon got out of hand, as you will see).
After a short pause, the biggest of the bullies is felled by Grim with a handy bench. Pausing only to bellow, “Remember that place in the desert where lots of people died!” (the Alamo), he turns looking for a new victim.
Quick as a flash, Petra is on her feet, and, throwing her whisky in the face of another of the thugs, kicks him solidly in the testicles. He collapses without a sound. (Petra has a new purpose designed card ‘Fight Dirty’, only usable once in an encounter, and only from surprise. It can be played before another card, and if successful, awards 1-3 fortune die. She is stoked it worked so well, her signature move, she calls it).
The third man almost manages to get his sword out, but is stopped by Wes pricking his kidneys with a dagger. He freezes and is felled by a vertical smash from the bench wielding dwarf. “Er, deity preserve the female ruler of a small nation in an parallel universe!” (God save the Queen) screams the Slayer at the unconscious man.
(Its story-telling mode here, a bar-room brawl without the need for lots of dice rolls. Three men down in three moves, looks like the Trouser bBandits are going to make some enemies here).
After removing the unconscious men’s trousers, (and stealing all their money), the crew stand around feeling a little lost. And then it happens. One of the reasons I so like (and fear) this group.
“You know, that big bastard there is the hardest man in Ogasse don’t you?” says a little man in the corner. There are murmurs of agreement up and down the bar.
“Vicious, is he?” asks Petra.
The man nods solemnly.
“He’ll hold a grudge, you reckon?”
More nods.
Petra draws a dagger, and, rolling the biggest of the three over, makes two quick cuts. “Sorted.”
Post script
What she actually does is cuts the webbing between the thumb and forefinger of Yuri Popov, thus ensuring he can’t use a weapon for a number of months. One of the biggest guns of the Broken wheel sect neutralized like that. It’s gonna get nasty.
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There,s gritty and there,s grotty. Just don't.
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1/2 EP per session, also arrange for periodic 'purges' to clear out their good stuff. I also add outside influences - family, friends, vicious rumours to siphon off money, distract, confuse etc. Also, if you're away for a session things tend to happen to you - not bad, exactly, but hair-cuts, brazillian waxes, marriages, affairs with the local magistrate whilst under mind altering drugs (oh yeah, hit your homo-phobic dwarven giant slayer with that and watch the role playing!). Level isn't that important if they're ill/injured/drunk/stupid - play to their weaknesses and enjoy!
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Must admit I'd never thought about it - my players attention span consists of "magic necklace - can I steal it/kill it/eat it? - ooh look at that shiny thing over there! (wander off in the general direction of 'away' " They even forget their own backstory at times, never mind the intricacies a mind altering bling-wear. Though I must admit for my own amusement I like to think about these things.
Oh yes, I also think Madriga was borderline loony even before she got the jewelry, so add that in …
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In a galaxy far, far away …
The man in grey stood at the edge of the clearing, looking across the wreckage of hundreds of lives. With a sigh, he moved forward and peered across the debris, noting broken furniture, dead, bloated livestock, scatters of clothing and humped shapes that were probably bodies.
Movement, and the sound of someone trudging across the field, rooting desultorily through the remains. There, he noted, a figure, a little short, he thought, and reached out with his other senses. “Ah,” he muttered, “the force is strong in this one.”
Without warning he found his arms pinned to his side, and a mounting pressure on his windpipe. Slow, wheezing breath sounds came from behind, then a moist, throaty voice, rich with menace, sounded in his ear.
“If your fecking cat ever pisses on my blankets again, I will cut off it’s legs and shove it so far up your arse you’ll be able to meow and talk at the same time!”
Ah. Not dead after all.
The characters
Petra Nunce, Reiklander - ex-gambler, thief
Wesley Smitt, Reiklander - scout
Grim Grimmson, Dwarf - trollslayer
Jeremy Dewbender - apprentice grey wizard
Cat - a cat (and familiar)
Of course they didn’t die, I just loved the expressions on everyone’s face last session when I simply closed everything down when the wave struck. Everyone was so desperate to keep their character alive, they agreed to the most outrageous demands - I’d been thinking that the crew were getting just a bit too well equipped (and rich), and there’s nothing like a magic-imbued tsunami to strip you of your belongings. So, after much pleading, I made them roll for how many wounds each character suffered (carefully adjusted so no-one would die). Everyone had to make very hard tests for a few choice belongings to see if they had managed to keep hold of them - the rest of the things I simply lost, broke or ignored. So we have the dwarf clad only in a shirt, boots and a rubber ring; the scout (amazingly!) retaining his longbow but no arrows, and without footwear; Petra fully clothed with a single gold coin she hid in her boot; and the wizard wearing only a ripped cloak. The cat, too is somewhere about, in a foul and vengeful mood after her wetting. Waltrout, alas, is nowhere to be seen - the disadvantages of loading all your staples onto an idiot is fast becoming clear. Oh, and they all have terrible colds.As dusk approaches, the various party members come around, and find themselves on the edge of a huge lake, with wreckage from the town of Stromdorf scattered around. Coughing and spluttering, they slowly aggregate, Wes collecting wood for a fire, which the wizard manages to light. They then stand around warming themselves, and engage in a little gentle bantering about Grim’s Mk 2 flocksummtroculators, but their heart isn’t really in it (they are realizing that they are all wounded, have no food or weapons and have lost all the cash they had collected in the last few months). They decide to move off to make a quick search through the rubble for anything useful.
And so it goes. A pair of trousers (Grim). Two odd boots (Wes). Some blankets. A dagger (Petra). A big piece of wood (Grim). A branding iron (Wes). A (reasonably) freshly deceased sheep. More firewood. Along the way they also find a few other lost souls and help them back to their fire; an old married couple, a ten year old boy, the drunk from the Thunderwater Inn, a farmer with a broken leg. They also see a few less savoury sights; Professor Kopchfen’s half chewed body and a couple of townsfolk they maybe recognize.
Back at the fire again, they cut up the dead sheep and start to cook it using sticks, everyone squatting near the flames. Everyone is wet and miserable, coughing and sneezing, and the injured farmer is in a lot of pain (I give everyone stress and fatigue points). Wes tries to get everyone singing a campfire song, full of innuendo and smut, but no-one joins in, and after a couple of verses he stops. “It could be worse,” he quips, “it could be raining!” Everyone looks at the darkening sky apprehensively, but nothing happens.
Suddenly, from the darkness, comes a howling sound. “Nice one, Wes,” mutters the dwarf. A hurried conference, and the crew grab sticks, stones and anything else that might be used as a weapon; the other castaways bunch near the fire, shaking with fear, the young boy clinging to the old couple.
The first of the wolves appear after a few minutes; dark shadows flitting around at the edge of the firelight. Jeremy flicks a handful of darkness at one of the shapes, and it darts away, whimpering. Instantly the other wolves fade away into the night, but occasional yelps and growls make it clear they’re still watching.
(I make an eight step tracker to represent how much darkness is left, and give the players six tokens to represent how much firewood they’ve got. Uh-oh. There’s also an event marker at step four).
The characters take a few minutes to realize the problem, (they really are not that bright!), then wait around hoping the animals will attack whilst they’ve got light. Unfortunately the wolves don’t co-operate, and the Trouser bandits are left standing around the fire, getting colder and more tired by the minute. A plan is needed, and eventually Petra has a suggestion.
“Someone needs to step out there and draw the beasts onto them, then the rest of us can rush in and kill them whilst they’re battling that heroic individual.” She looks at Grim. “They would have to be very brave, though.”
Jeremy catches on quickly. “It would help if they could see in the dark.”
“And were very short!” adds Wes. (What?). “Very, very short.”
Grim looks at his friends for a moment then grabs two large wooden branches. “No use sending a man to do a stunties job,” he mutters, and strides out into the dark area at the edge of the circle of firelight.
“Very, very, very short!” Wes shouts out after him.
Almost immediately shapes can be seen in the dimness, and Jeremy again fires bolts of shadow off, driving one of the beasts off yelping and whining. Then everything goes wrong. Three shapes dart out of the night and attack the slayer from different directions. He fends the first one off with his clubs, but the next two hit him from behind, tearing open his legs and back, and he falls in a bloody mass, desperately trying to protect his face.
“Feck!” screams Petra, and dashes out, throwing herself on the back of one of the creatures tearing at Grim. She drags a furred muzzle back and saws her dagger across it’s throat, killing it bloodily. Wes follows, and thwacks the other creature soundly across its hindquarters. It, too runs yelping into the night.
Panting, the two drag the unconscious dwarf back into the firelight, wolves snarling and howling in the darkness. Jeremy quickly applies bandages to the slayers wounds, and props him up next to the fire. After a few minutes he comes round. “Great plan,” he mutters. “But it’s someone else’s turn next time.”
(Crapolla, in the dark, with no armour and no shooting weapons to help, wolves are really deadly. Their extra move means they can sit out of sight in the dark until a bunch of them have initiative, then dash in on one individual and really tear him up. Grim was really lucky he fended off the first wolf, else it would have been curtains. This was meant to be a not-too-testing encounter; instead, unless the crew get lucky it may well be all over).
The night drags on, with the team getting tireder and tireder (I’m giving them fatigue points for every two hours spent awake). Eventually they decide to take watches, and Wes and Grim settle down to rest whilst Petra and Jeremy circle the fire.
After a while, the sound of the wolves seems to recede, and the watchers relax a little, when suddenly two shapes burst out of the night. Petra and Jeremy are on opposite sides of the fire, and the wolves target the injured farmer who is midway between them. They kill him as he sleeps, tearing his throat out, and flee when Petra charges in.
The camp is in turmoil, with the small boy having hysterics and the drunk bellowing and weeping. Grim and Wes limp over to the bloody corpse. A long period of silence, then Wes steps up to the batters mark. “Ok,” he says, “new plan.” He calls over Petra, and between them they drag the body out away from the fire and dump it. Dark shapes circle, but don’t attack. Next they grab the remains of the sheep and throw it on top of the body. They retire back to the fire and wait. Eventually a wolf approaches the remains.
“Shall I kill it?” whispers Jeremy.
“Don’t be a fecking half-wit,” replies Wes. “Do nothing.”
The wolf noses the farmers body, then starts to drag it off into the night. More wolves appear, and together they pull the meat away. A few minutes later there is the sound of tearing meat and crunching bone that seems to go on for hours, then nothing at all.
Eventually dawn comes, and the crew find the wolves long gone. Just about everyone is maxed out with fatigue, but the heroes gather wood before doing anything else, ready for a huge fire if they have to spend another night here. They find another sheep’s carcass, slightly more bloated than the last, and set about cooking it.
“Funny,” muses Wes, “why would the wolves attack us when there’s all this food lying around?”
(Oops, a **** good question; one I hadn’t even thought about. I try to look enigmatic and knowing).
“It’s that bloody necromancer again!” mutters Grim. “We need to kill him sharpish”
“Again,” adds Petra.
(Nice, once again the rock steady crew explain my mistakes. Maybe I should add something).
Rescue
About midday Jeremy, who is on watch, kicks the others awake. “Riders,” he says pointing. Sure enough a troop of Roadwardens appear, and approach the campfire. They’ve been sent from Ubersreik to investigate rumours of a disaster at Stromdorf, which the players readily confirm.
“What happened?” asks the sergeant-at-arms.
“I have no idea,” says Petra, shaking her head. “I was just passing through; I’ve never been here before in my life.”
“Some kind of a localized surge in Azyr energies triggered a counterswell of more aquatic vitality,” states Jeremy.
“I think the rain got bored and started to fall from below,” suggests Wes.
“It was all that bloody cats fault!” adds Grim.
Dismissing the Trouser Bandits as complete lunatics, the Sergeant sends the survivors off towards Ubersreik with an escort, sending a rider ahead to commandeer a wagon for them and the other survivors.
And that’s about it. To cut a long story short, they travel on to Ubersreik, where they’re put up for a week or so and treated by the local doctor whilst the magistrate investigates the ‘happenings’ at Stromdorf. Eventually they exhaust the towns largesse, (and patience!) and are kicked out of the Inn they’ve been staying at. Clad in cast-offs from the local Shallyan hospital, they are set on the streets of Ubersreik to look for new adventure.
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Not waving but drowning (16)
“Would you look at that!” gasps the scout, pointing towards the river.
A wall of water some ten feet tall was racing towards them, a maelstrom of foam and surging water, stained with branches, rocks and mud. A deep roaring sound could be heard, interspersed with the wet, gurgling ‘moo’ a cow makes as it’s drowned.
The lumbering idiot grins and giggles, the wizard gulps loudly and the cat is no-where to be seen.
“Comrades,” declaims the gambling woman, sweeping back her cloak with a flourish, and striking a brave pose. “At this final pass, I’d just like to express the honour I feel …” She glances over at the dwarf and frowns. He was hunched over, one hand thrust deep into his pocket, moving it rapidly up and down, tongue protruding with concentration.
“Oh, for the love of God, can’t you spend five minutes not being a complete …”
Impact.
The charactersPetra Nunce, Reiklander - ex-gambler, thief
Wesley Smitt, Reiklander - scout
Grim Grimmson, Dwarf - trollslayer
Jeremy Dewbender - apprentice grey wizard
Cat - a cat (and familiar)
Waltrout Glockinger - an idiot and sherpa
(We are well into end-game territory here, and I’d carefully brought a number of strands together. The crew had been expressing desires to quit Stromdorf and it’s environs pretty soon, so I quickly pruned the fourth piece of the lightning stone, and arranged for the Imperial Investigator to be absent following up more clues upstream from the town. I also print a letter from the Magister General of the Grey College telling Jeremy that Niklas Schulman is not, in fact a wizard of the Celestial College, but is a mere apprentice and hinting that he may be up to no good).The first thing the crew decide is that they cannot all go into Stromdorf in case someone makes the connection between the Trouser Bandits and them (!). Jeremy is ruled out because he’s still leaking a little clear fluid from his ears after the goblins ‘Eadbutt’ spell, Wes is dismissed because he’s a complete idiot and Grim declines as i) he’s badly wounded [3 wounds left] and ii) Herr Ackerman has just opened the autumn scrumpy. The three retirees look at Petra expectantly, and Wes mouths ‘Master of Disguise’ before sticking his thumb up.
Twenty minutes later, Petra is aboard the farm’s only good riding horse and headed towards Stromdorf, whilst the boys get stuck into the scrumpy. Waltrout trots along companionably behind her with Cat on his head for a bit, but can’t keep up and she leaves the two to make their own way back to the farm.
At the Wissenland gate, Petra is met with a mighty cheer; Herr Ackerland had sent a runner and informed the town of the heroes victory, and the townsfolk seem to have forgiven them the theft of Stichelm’s sword. A cheering mob accompanies Petra to the burgomeister’s office, where she is greeted as an all-conquering hero. The mayor pays the balance of the reward, and shakes her firmly by the hand.
Next stop is the Thunderwater Inn, where Herr Brenner greets the gambler like a long-lost daughter. Food and drink is provided gratis, and there is a hint that another period of accommodation can be arranged at a favourable rate.
Niklas Schulman is the next to arrive and congratulate her. He raises an eyebrow and she nods and gestures towards his room. A quick swallow of wine and she slips upstairs to meet the wizard.
“Ten gold crowns, not a penny less,” she growls, waving the shaman’s stone under his nose.
“Agreed,” says Schulman, slapping coins on the table.
(Too quick, thinks Petra, this must be really valuable!) “And another ten for transport,” she adds. The wizard shrugs and upends his purse on the table (at least thirty gold crowns!), then pries the stone from Petra’s hands. (She’s rich!).
The gambler staggers down the stairs sits in the common-room, whilst the Innkeeper gets more wine. He then fetches out a letter and a large parcel. “This is for Herr Dewbender, wizards apprentice. That the skinny streak of piss you’ve been hanging around with?”
Petra nods numbly. (Stinking rich! Give, say five crowns to the crew and keep twenty five for herself, she’s made!).
“This one says ‘to Grim, formerly Grimmson, now a dwarf of no lineage’. That the fat smelly stuntie with only one eye?”
Again Petra nods (Rich!), and places the letter in her pouch, and the parcel under her arm. “Private it says. And personal. No looking, OK?”
Petra nods again, and staggers out of the Inn (Rich!). Almost without thinking, she slits open the letter, carefully preserving the seal, and unfolds the letter. ‘Nice parchment,’ she thinks, looking at the missive. ‘Shame I can’t read.’ She deftly reseals it and stuffs it back into her pouch.
Next she opens the parcel and discovers … what? Some kind of a harness, or a suspender belt, made from rubber and leather and brass. There are a few bladders attached at various place, and a pump of some kind. “Grim,” she mutters with a grin, “you old pervert!”
(Far back in the mists of time, just after Grim’s brother died by drowning, Grim asked about something to ensure that he too wouldn’t drown. I got him to invest an experience point, but being an ex-D&D player, I think he was hoping for a magic ring of some sort; you know, a ‘ring of water walking’ or some such twaddle. Instead he got the Mk 2 Flocksamtramulators direct from the Runesmith at Kazak Azgul. It’s ‘a number of flattened rubber tubes attached to leather underpants. There is an abundance of straps and leather buckles…’ see appropriate strange eons card).
Several hours later, a strange figure trots into the Ackerland farm. It looks a little like Petra, but appears to be wearing a huge pair of rubber coated underpants over trousers, and is sporting a huge grin. On dismounting, the figure sidles towards Grim swinging a rubber bladder in circles. “Hi, big boy, I think this is yours!”
Once Grim gets over his shock, he attempts to catch Petra, but the human is far too agile, to be caught, and an extended chase around the farmyard ensues, full of insults and obscene gestures (What really happened is that the two players, Craig (Petra) and ‘Tish (Grim) got completely off track and wasting time. When no-one seems to be keeping up with the plot, I carefully assembled a 12 space tracker and placed a counter on 6, then pushed it onto 7. Silence, then Craig asks ‘what’s that?’ I give Jeremy the letter from the Magister General).
“Oh Feck!” says Jeremy. Much consternation from the team. He looks at Petra. “What happened to the lightning stone? Don’t tell me, you sold it to Niklaus-bloody-Schulman!” When the gambler agrees (‘But I got five crowns for it!’) , Jeremy groans. He reads out the letter from the head of his order, to much recrimination all round (and another space on the tracker). The crew commandeer Herr Ackerlands wagon and set off for Stromdorf.
At the wagons fastest pace, that’s several hours journey. To pass the time, Grim half strangles Petra and forcibly removes the Mk 2 flocksumtroculators, from her body, then puts them on under his breeches. Jeremy, driving the wagon, worries, and Wes, once again, has a brainwave.
“So this lightning stone, it attracts lightning?” he asks.
(“Duh, thats why its called a lightning stone,” sneers Petra in the background).
“So what happens when you put all of them together?”
“An interesting question,” muses Jeremy. “Some might expect an overall localized increase in Azyr magic at the location of the assembled stone, with a concomitant decrease elsewhere. Magister Hieronycles suggests … “
Wes quickly interrupts before Jeremy can begin lecturing. “So you could track the stone by an increase in lightning strikes?”
“Well yes, at a very superficial level, one might expect a certain increase in electrical activity in an area spatially congruent with the newly assembled cap-stone.”
Both Petra and Grim are staring to the left of the Stromdorf track. Wes raises an arm and points towards the river, where an almost continuous series of lightning strikes appear to be crashing into the water.
Jeremy looks. “Feck! It must be the lightning stone!” He turns the wagon off the track and forces the horse into a gallop towards the river.
And directly into a huge patch off mud (It has been raining almost continuously here for almost a month). More shouting and the heroes pile off the cart and start to run towards the river, slipping and sliding in the mire. (Tracker now on space nine).
As they approach the river (space ten), Niklaus Schulman can be seen standing up in a boat at the centre of the watercourse, surrounded by a globe of glowing blue light. Lightning is striking all around the vessel, but the wizard appears unconcerned.
They reach the river bank (eleven). “Shoot him!” screams Jeremy at Wes. (Extreme range - Wesley is their only hope). The Scout unships his bow, selects an arrow, draws back and, breath’s held all around, shoots.
A clear miss. Schulman disappears with an exultant cry, encased in a column of blue fire. Grim, looking up, sees a great fireball descending from the skies. “Not looking good, people,” he quips. “Perhaps we should run?”
Suddenly Schulman’s victory cry changes to one of absolute agony, as the blue column starts to unweave, carrying parts of the wizards very essence with it. “No!” he screams, “no!”
Just then the fireball strikes, exploding in steam and debris, driving a great wall of water towards the heroes. Petra just has time to grab onto her (secret) purse, whilst Wes clutches his bow to his chest. Jeremy looks around for Cat, who disappeared some time ago. “Fecking animals,” he snarls. Grim, hand in his pocket, desperately tries to inflate his Flocksumtroculatores before the wall of water can impact.
Then its just a wild swirl of water and debris and choking. Fade to black.
And that’s it. The Trouser bandits, failing dismally, are gone, together with a large portion of southern Reikland. They will be missed (who?).
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Theres a free audiobook/podcast out there somewhere, Felix and the other one (short, hairy, you know who I mean) - not great, but you can listen whilst you wash up.
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In the sense of a mobile, self-seasoning frankfurter, perhaps (Ich bien …. ).
Maybe a mycologist would be more useful.
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Bright green eating machine (15)
The gobbos lay in pieces all around, slain as they fled the burning house. Some were stuck with arrows, others sliced open, or bludgeoned to death. A few had their throats cut from behind, and seemed to bear looks of shock and surprise on their faces. Not that much of a challenge, really, thought the dwarf, glancing at his companions looting the bodies in a workman-like way. Not like the old days, when his brother and he had destroyed an entire orc Waagh! in the making. Not like slaying filthy beastmen in the fens, or slaughtering undead in Morr’s graveyard, more’s the pity.Suddenly he felt a twitching in the back of his neck, a weird kind of attraction, a compulsion. Nearby the wizard raised his head, questing.
With a crash, a whole wall of the burning farmhouse came tumbling outwards. A great green shape followed the shattered timbers, fully ten feet tall, with long dangling arms and fearsome teeth. Behind came a much smaller figure, also green, but dripping lurid blue sparks and chittering in anger. “A troll!” screamed the dwarf, raising his sword and moving forward, his yell galvanizing his comrades into action. He grinned as he charged towards the foul creature, humming his death litany. It was a good day to die. Again.
The charactersPetra Nunce, Reiklander - ex-gambler, thief
Wesley Smitt, Reiklander - scout
Grim Grimmson, Dwarf - trollslayer
Jeremy Dewbender - apprentice grey wizard
Cat - a cat (and familiar)
Waltrout Glockinger - an idiot and sherpa
So the heroes arrive at Herr Ackermans farm in the Blitzfen Hills. They are greeted warmly by the locals as possible saviors (obviously no-one has met the trouser bandits before!), and are given food and drink and a place to stay in the barn. After a quick rest the crew set out to examine the site of the rustling, and to come up with a plan.Wes finds some strange smelling vegetable rinds that he and Grim examine. He sniffs deeply, pupils shrinking to pin-points and becoming unsteady on his feet. “Weird goblin ****!” is his analysis, leaning on a nearby tree for support. (Slackfungus - Wes now has the ‘Staggered’ condition). Leaving the scout looking for meaning in a blade of grass, the others push on.
There are no tracks to be seen by the adventurers, and they quickly decide that their best bet is to hide and wait for the goblins. What to do next is the problem. Grim is all for charging out and slaughtering everything green, whilst Jeremy and Petra favour a more subtle plan; follow the greenskins to their lair and then charge out and slaughter them. Wes, in contrast, favours putting some flowers in his hair and making love, not war. Grim cracks him over the head with the pommel of his sword, refuting that argument completely.
Herr Ackerman approaches, and Jeremy explains that they will lie in wait; the farmer should continue with his normal precautions to prevent suspicion. The Trouser Bandits then settle down for a long wait in amongst a pile of boulders at the edge of one of Herr Ackermans fields. The rain never stops, but luckily all four have waxed capes, ‘borrowed’ from the watch in Stromdorf and never returned. Idiot Glockinger is sent back to the barn, as he has a disturbing tendency to guffaw for no apparent reason and is coughing and sneezing everywhere. Cat had taken one look at the rain and set off for an extended (and indoor) vermin hunt.
Around midnight, Grim is stirred by a strange feeling in the back of his neck. He can feel … something, out in the night. Something …. green. He points wordlessly into the darkness, and the others stare. Gradually, three small, heavily cloaked figures appear, outlined by the occasional flash of lightening. They are smaller than a man, wear flapping black robes and carry large, stone-like objects. They freeze when Ackerman and another man appear, patrolling the edge of the field, then fling the objects at them. They land soundlessly near the men, and almost immediately the farmer and his companion seem to slow, almost staggering as they continue on their way.
“Weird goblin ****,” whispers Grim, and Wes smiles happily.
(After Grim’s experience as the focus of a nascent orc Waagh! [see ‘Back from the dead’] he’s become a little sensitized to the little green buggers, and can feel … something when they are around. Sounds useful, eh? Unfortunately the sensitivity runs both ways, and greenskins have a tendency to feel the remnants of the Waagh! on him).
The goblins continue into the field, becoming more and more agitated. They shake their heads and point towards the heroes hiding place, seemingly more puzzled than frightened, then stop and look confused. Petra giggles. “I think they can smell you, Grim.”Wes, starting to come out of his drug induced love-fest, finally notices the goblins. “****, fecking greenies!” he screams, and plants two arrows in the nearest goblins chest. He keels over nicely, and Grim bursts out of hiding to smash a second greenskin into jelly. The third lets out a burble of fear and turns tail. Jeremy manages to wing him with a shadow dart, but the goblin yelps and continues running.
“Bloody hell Wes you plonker!” remonstrates Petra. “Now we’ll have to chase ‘em!” She chivies Wes out of his stupor and after the goblin. A shout from Ackerman indicates more goblins, and Grim and Jeremy head in that direction.
A wet and rather pointless night follows, with the heroes and their allies blundering about the hill sides looking for the long gone greenskins and almost shooting each other. They catch the wounded goblin by following the trail of blood and tripping over his half dead body, but fail to discover anyone else. Wes comes in for a lot of abuse, before finally cracking.
“Ok, ok, I’ll show you where they are.” Everyone looks at him with amazement. He stares at the night sky for a moment, then points southwards. “There.”
“What?” sneers Grim, “as simple as that?” He guffaws in disbelief.
“Yeah,” says Petra, “not that we don’t believe you, but, well, you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed!”
Wes sighs. “Remember the beastmen? The big stone? We nearly died. Lots of lightning there. And the dead things? Again, lots of lightning and we nearly die.” He points south, where lightning strikes seem to be concentrated, then digs his compass out of a pocket. “Lots of lightning there. We’ll nearly die. That’s where they’ll be.”
The crew are struck dumb by Wes’s elucidation. (Or is it metagaming?) “Should we go there now then?” asks Jeremy timidly, in awe of this new mentally supercharged Wesley.
“Don’t be stupid!” says Wesley The Man, “It’s the middle of the night.” He raises his compass. “Got the bearing, we can find them in the morning.”
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The next day Wes is back to his stupid old self, bickering with Grim and Petra and tying to kick the cat. After returning to the barn, not much sleep was had, due to the farmer and his men celebrating the crew’s heroic victory over the goblins. A little hung-over, the trouser bandits stagger out of the barn well after cock-crow and set out for the goblins lair.For once it isn’t raining, and the perennial thunderstorm is in abeyance. The heroes stagger about, trying to follow a straight line over rough ground, and getting muddy and tired in the process. Luckily Waltrout is with them, and does most of the falling, being laden down with food, blankets and other sundries. Cat spends most of her time sitting on the idiot’s backpack washing herself, daintily jumping down whenever Glockinger slips. She waits politely until he has gotten back up before jumping back onto his shoulders.
By noon they have found nothing, and the crew are bored. Wesley-the-ex-genius is the butt of much of their frustration, and tension is mounting, when Grim holds up a fist for silence and closes his eyes before waving his hand around. Petra makes circling signs at her temple. “Another one gone bonkers,” she mouths to Wes.
“There,” says Grim, pointing off to the left. “Goblins.”
Jeremy and Petra shrug; any random direction is as good as another, and at least this one isn’t directly uphill. They slog along for another hour, when Wesley spots a large mound of green-coloured dung. “Looks familiar,” he mutters.
“Smells familiar,” adds Grim. He points to a line of deep depressions nearby spaced some ten feet apart and raises his brows.
“Is familiar,” says Petra. “Squig,”. She looks a little upset; the last squig they’d met had almost drowned her.
(Test against nature lore, with a fortune dice for Petra, Wes and Grim, who’ve met them before. Definitely squig dung).
The party continue on more cautiously, Wes and Petra moving carefully, bent low to the ground, whilst Jeremy fades into inconspicuousness; Cat is simply nowhere to be seen. Grim is waved back to walk with Waltrout; “Your smell,” whispers Petra with a grin.
Another 15 minutes, and Wes cautiously tops a rise, then waves the gang up to him. They are looking down on a small farmhouse surrounded by a rickety wooden palisade. There is a gatehouse guarding an open gate, and a stone watch tower stands at one corner of the compound. A few barns and outhouses complete the picture.
There is a brief council of war. Grim, by some strange means, confirms that most of the goblins are in the main farmhouse. “They sleep during the day, but there’ll be more in the tower, I reckon, and perhaps in the gatehouse.” (My God, tactical acumen!). “We need a plan.”
“Yeah,” agrees Petra. “How about we sneak in, slit the throats of the guards at the gate and in the watchtower, then slaughter the rest of them whilst they’re snoring.”
Grim, who looks a little put out by all the talk of sneaking, brightens at the thought of a slaughter and nods agreeably, then frowns. “I think there may be too many of them,” He shakes his head. “It’s not really a heroic death being stabbed to death by filthy goblins.”
“Again,” mutters Petra.
The dwarf ignores the quip and gestures Waltrout Glockinger over. He extracts four bottles from his pack with a grin. “Brandy. Cost me a pretty penny in ‘Dorf. We creep in, you do all the sneaky cutting and stabbing, then fire bomb the place and slaughter the stinking vermin as they rush out! Is that a plan or what?”
(OMG what has happened to ‘charge in and kill everything green [-ish]!’ The crew are starting to think. I call a break to get over my shock, and the players carry on planning and asking questions; where are the farmhouse doors; how many windows are there; real what if … questions. To say I’m shocked is an understatement. Nothing good will come of it.)
And so it goes. First Petra, then Jeremy, then Wes sneak up to the gatehouse, finding Cat already there, nonchalantly licking herself and sitting next to the half opened door; the squeaky sounds of squabbling, half asleep goblins can be heard inside. The heroes crouch by the door and wave Grim, carrying all the firebombs forward - he sprints wildly, straight past the door of the gatehouse. There is a yelp of surprise and one of the goblins comes dashing out, trips on Cat and receives Petra’s rapier in his chest. A second goblin just behind receives a shower of shadowy darts into his face, staggers back and is elbowed aside by Wes, who charges through the door, striking another of the greenskins. Pandemonium erupts.
Meanwhile, Grim dashes up to the farmhouse. He wedges a dagger (Petra’s!) under the back door and, lighting one of the firebombs, smashes it on the door. He staggers back from the flames and throws another onto the farmhouses roof. “Guess who’s coming for dinner?” is his one-liner.
Back at the gatehouse, Wes is having a little trouble. One of the goblins manages to land a solid blow to his side, whilst the other only narrowly misses as the scout dodges aside. Petra presses forward, but stops briefly to cut the throat of the wounded creature on the floor. Jeremy, pushing past gathers shadows around him, and flings them as shrieking wraiths at the remaining goblins (cantrip - the gobbos are on the point of fleeing anyway). This is too much for the greenskins, and they throw themselves out of the window of the gatehouse and run screaming from the farm.
Once again at the farmhouse, the Trollslayer wedges another dagger under the front door this time, before smashing the bag containing the brandy bottles against the door. A quick flick of the tinderbox and the sack is ablaze. He’s driven back by the searing flame, half blinded by the smoke and flames.
And is targeted by a rain of arrows from the now roused watchtower. One strikes home on the dazed dwarf (unable to use any dodge etc abilities due to being half blinded by the fire). He yells in pain, and the rest of the bandits charge out of the guard house, Wes and Jeremy instantly targeting the second storey window in the tower, whilst Petra seeks cover amidst the smoke of the burning house. A cry of pain is heard, and Grim sprints to the tower, kicking the door in.
By now the house is ablaze, and panicked goblins can be heard rattling the handles on both doors. There is the sound of breaking glass, and a goblin dives through a broken window, coughing and spluttering from the smoke, and then from Petra’s sword, which has punctured his lung. (The goblins really don’t stand much of a chance, losing a wound per turn they’re in the house once it’s burning, and suffering from the ‘Staggered’ condition).
Inside, goblins can be heard screaming and banging on the doors, and more start to climb through windows, half blinded by the smoke. Wes, Petra and Jeremy spend a couple of rounds slaughtering them as they crawl from the building, and gain a few minor wounds in return. A lucky few can be heard escaping from windows at the rear, and fleeing in panic.
Over at the tower, Grim charges up the stairs, taking another arrow at near point blank range, but slicing his opponent almost in two in revenge. The remaining three goblins huddle in fear at the top of the steps, dropping bows and drawing swords, and meet the enraged dwarf at the stairhead. They manage another hit on the tattooed lunatic in return for the death of another of their number (Grim is down to 3 wounds!), before breaking and fleeing, one throwing himself off the stairs and staggering away from the tower, the other trying to climb out of the window, before being kicked out to his death by the blood maddened dwarf.
At the farmhouse, the rush of goblins is almost over. After three rounds of butchery, most of the goblins seem to prefer to asphyxiate rather than be slaughtered as they flee; Jeremy even allows a couple of them to escape as they look so pathetic. When Grim staggers down the stairs, the rest of the crew barely nod at him, they’re so tired (everyone is almost maxed out for stress/strain - murder is really hard work! I call a recovery phase before it all kicks off again).
Suddenly Grim raises his head in alarm; Jeremy too senses something, whilst Cat disappears onto the roof of the guardhouse. A pause, while the sound of burning thatch seems abnormally loud, then an entire wall of the farmhouse explodes outwards and a huge green shape appears, roaring in anger.
“Troll!” screams Grim, rushing forward and unleashing his Troll-Feller strike (of course!), crippling the creature as it stands half blinded by the smoke. Wes fires at the creature but misses in his fright; a familiar warmth percolates through his trousers.
“Barn door,” mutters Petra, “two paces.”. She then throws herself forward, running the great beast through from front to back. It screams in agony, but is still very much on its feet.
It’s left to Jeremy to administer the coup-de-grace, flicking clots of darkness into the monsters belly and driving it onto it’s back with a dying squeal. He raises a hand in victory, and turns to acknowledge the (non-existent) praise of his fellows, when an explosion of green light outlines his head. His eyes roll up and he slumps to his knees, blood leaking from nose and ears.
A small green figure emerges from the smoke and is struck by lightning from a clear sky. When the after images clear it can still be seen, dripping viridescent power from its hands and practically vibrating in anger. Wes, despite his ‘accident’, plants an arrow in the creatures narrow chest, and Grim, leaping over the body of the Troll, smashes his sword between the goblins ears before slumping to his knees, overcome with exhaustion.
The clean-up is over quickly. No loot, as they’ve burnt down the farmhouse. A weird glowing stone is recovered from the goblin shaman damaged head, and a small child is recovered from the well when the heroes make a half hearted attempt to put out the fire. She instantly attaches herself to Wes (the least scary looking, despite the urine stains), and the whole troop stagger off back to Her Ackerman’s farm and food, drink and clean trousers. The ‘bandits have emerged victorious!
(They do it again, this time with style. I kept thinking that something would go horribly wrong [personally I was hoping for a fumble from Grim whilst he was throwing firebombs - crispy fried dwarf reminds me of … victory], but it was not to be. Admittedly all four were seconds away from passing out from exhaustion, but it just shows the power of planning - the troll then the shaman were taken down sharpish).
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Kind of agree. 'Course it would be nice if they continued to release good products for wfrp, but 'who cares' means (to me) that I'll go on playing the game regardless. Make my own scenarios, cards, maps, steal others ideas, interact with others. It's the combination of a great system and committed fans that keep this going and lots of fun. As for the harsh things being said about FFG, well that's the inernet talking; a consequence of faceless instantaneous communication - they've got broad shoulders (and to be honest are not giving much feedback!).
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76 advances, I am in awe (actually I am even more in awe of 76 sessions written up!). And your players seem to be on track and up to speed on a complicated plot-line; no stolen trousers, psychotic dwarves or disreputable cats. (Though, thinking about it, you do have a dog, and some of your players do favour rather extreme measures). Anyway, respect.
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And if they don't release any more after TEW, who cares. There's a lot of really good fan material out there (look at liber fanatica!), and its the system that makes wfrp 3 so good, not the 'official' releases, some of which are a bit average to be honest. Get people committed to writing good stuff, support it with lots of feedback and let rip. Cross reference with the first and second edition stuff and we've got it made. Bring it on.
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oops bad links. Try as png
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/Slash%21-Back-Face.png
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/Slash%21-Front-Face.png
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/Sneak-Back-Face.png
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/Sneak-Front-Face.png
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/Catseyes-Back-Face.png
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/Catseyes-Front-Face.png
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Verb; a disease often contracted by high level magic users, esp. of the darker type.
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/Monologuing.eon
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We’ve been using some of these action cards for ‘Cat’ in the adventure series ‘Cheap Tickets’. The familiar is played almost as an NPC, with ‘suggestions’ as to what she’ll do from her master based upon her obedience (1 skill dice per point per point of obedience v. difficulty - she’s currently on 2 [and may well stay that way!]) - cards etc are not really very balanced, but they‘re a lot of fun, and my players seem to enjoy the chaos that she produces - also useful for driving the plot; finding things, befriending children, fighting dogs, disappearing, etc. The action cards were provided free as basically cat is a pretty crap familiar - 1 xp to find her, then I add action cards as the fancy takes me (‘Spray’ and ‘Mad-Half-Hour’ have been requested). Conservative side is for success, reckless for failure, and I tend to load the rolls with fortune/misfortune depending on circumstances and my mood - the rain at Stromdorg (TGS) was a particular pain for the players.
Oh yes doubtless these rules will get updated - suggestions welcome
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/cat/Catseyes.eon
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/cat/Lick%20arse.eon
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/cat/Slash.eon
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/38061860/cat/Sneak.eon
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Cats, hats and distractions (14)
The penitent entered the temple, shaking rain from her cloak and carefully removing her hat. She bows low before the shrine. Outside thunder grumbles.
“You have come alone?” asks the burly priest, standing armed and armoured beside the sanctum.
“Yes, my Lord,” answers the young woman. “My companions are having their wounds tended even as we speak. I would swear for them.”
The priest considers this, then nods towards the warhammer mounted in the nave of the church. The woman takes two faltering steps then lays her hand on the weapon. She swallows and closes her eyes, seeming to cringe a little. “I swear that the great sword came to us from the hand of Olaus Stichelm himself. I swear that we did not steal it. Further, I swear that the blade may be of great use to us, for my companions have a great and fell destiny written on their brows.”
The thunder rises to a mighty crescendo, then stops abruptly with a massive flash of lightning. The woman opens her eyes one at a time and looks around as though waiting for something to happen. Silence.
“It is done. My God has spoken,” says the priest. The sword is yours.”
Outside, a crow caws loudly.
The characters
Petra Nunce, Reiklander - ex-gambler, thief
Wesley Smitt, Reiklander - scout
Grim Grimmson, Dwarf - trollslayer
Jeremy Dewbender - apprentice grey wizard
Cat - a cat (and familiar)
So begins a long and weary trek back to Stromdorf. The party bears a host of wounds, some serious, and lack the ability to fight off anything more dangerous than a small, badly wounded and terminally myopic rabbit. Wesley is still twitching and tending to panic at loud noises, Petra has difficulty breathing due to her broken ribs, and Jeremy is having trouble with his sight (magically bestowed cataracts take some time to disappear, I’m told). Theoddric Grabbe, the priest of Morr, staggers along with the crew, half dead. He’s furious over the damage to his temple and the death of his familiar, but believes the heroes when they express their complete innocence. Grim, meanwhile, is whispering to his shiny new sword whist caressing it in a lascivious and slightly obscene way. Waltrout Glockinger, the rather suspect simpleton corralled into being their guide, is loaded down with all the characters gear. When he objects, Grim cracks him around the ear and says “We know you had something to do with all of this, but can’t be bothered to find out. Just carry the luggage!”
They row the ferry over the Tranig, then slog wearily towards the town through the inevitable thunderstorm. As they approach the gates, they pass a hanging corpse, a bandit of some sort. The rotting body starts to stir, raising a skeletal hand to point at the party but is destroyed by a casual blow from Grim before it can do any more. (The necromancers spirit, attracted by the power of the pendant, keeps trying to materialize and monologue but is having remarkably bad luck).
Onwards and back to the Thunderwater Inn, for food and lots of booze. They put off contacting Herr Adler until the next day, instead calling Ralf Messer, the barber, to visit for his medical services and collapse into bed.
Unfortunately it is not a good night. Jeremy wakes to find a half chewed, days-dead rat corpse on his chest. (Put there by his familiar, Cat. It was possessed by the necromancer, Lazarus Mourn, who spent most of the night playing ‘flopsy dead twitchy thing trying to escape’ with the moggie, and having his internal organs extracted an inch at a time. If Lazarus was not mad before, he’s certainly unhinged now). Petra finds a note pushed under her door demanding the money she owes from the card game a few nights ago (see ‘Four dead ‘uns and a funeral’). Grim, meanwhile, is terrified by a dream where his left arms turns into a tentacle (I give all the players a corruption point and Grim an extra one for wearing the necromancers pendant all day). Even Wes, sleeping the blessed sleep of the terminally stupid is troubled by bad dreams (and the corruption token!).
At breakfast the next day, the rock-steady crew is in a panic. Jeremy finally uses his mage sight and realizes the pendant round Grim’s neck is ‘bad’ (aka a nexus of foul necromantic magic). “Why didn’t you tell me?” screams the dwarf, then tears it off and attempts to smash it, battering it around the floor of the Thunderwater’s bar. Having no success, he dashes out of the Inn onto the Marschstrasse roaring incoherently, carrying the necklace on the end of his sword. He runs to the town square with the rest of the party in hot pursuit, before dropping the pendant down the town well. (Oh, great move, Grim. I wonder what this’ll do to the beer?).
Unfortunately, the sight of a screaming tattooed dwarf running berserk through the streets draws a lot of attention. By the time the rest of the trouser bandits arrive, Grim is surrounded by a small crowd. “‘Ere,” shouts a voice, “he’s got Stichelm’s sword!” (Olaus Stichelm is the town saviour of many years ago, and it is his sword that Grim obtained from the garden of Morr).
“No I haven’t!” shouts the dwarf, hiding it behind his back. “Anyway, how d’you know what his sword looks like?”
A young boy in the crowd point to the huge statue of an armoured man holding up a sword directly behind Grim. “Oh,” says our hero, a little sheepishly, then rallies. “Anyway, this sword looks nothing like that. That ones green!”
Muttering, the crowd start to move towards Grim, when suddenly Petra appears, striking a dramatic pose. “Friends,” she says, holding her hands up, “This is Not What It Seems! That sword is indeed the weapon of the mighty Olaus Stichelm, but it was given to us by the revenant of the hero himself when we banished evil from the corrupted Garden of Morr outside this noble town.” There are a few nods from the crowd and Petra continues. “It was whilst we were battling the very fiends of hell … “
“Bollocks!” shouts a voice from the crowd, interrupting. “The stuntie must of nicked it!” (Gasp! The silver tongued liar fails her persuade test dismally!).
The heroes instinctively huddle together, hands on weapons, trying to look dangerous. Stepping forward, Grim rolls his shoulders, and prepares to do something violent and terminally stupid, when suddenly a voice rings out. “Hold! These heroes did indeed cast out a foul shadow from the temple of my brother-cleric, and they should at least be given a fair hearing.” The speaker is the local Sigmarite priest, Magnus Gottschalk, a great hulking man carrying a two handed warhammer. He notices the watch captain, Herr Kessler approaching with a troop of guards, pointing at our heroes, and gestures. “Go with the Kapitain. Return later to my temple and swear on Sigmar’s holy hammer of the truth in this matter!” With a wave of his hand he disperses the crowd, and strides off across the marketplace.
Relieved to be left alone by the mob, the bandits follow captain Kessler back to see the Burgomeister, Philip Adler. He is horrified to hear about Madriga Brenner being possessed by the spirit of the necromancer, but seems strangely invigorated by the characters adventures. He pays them a bonus of one gold crown (straight into Petra’s pocket!), despite the best efforts of Jeremy’s Cat (‘Lick Arse” - custom made card - 2 misfortune die) and sends the crew back to the Thunderwater Inn to rest. Unhappily this short walk is enlivened by dark glances, spit-balls and mutterings about thieves from the locals.
Back at the Inn, the gang hole up for an extended planning (panic) session about what to do about Olaus Stichelm’s sword. Grim, being a stiff-necked Trollslayer, will not countenance lying to a priest of Sigmar, but also being a stiff-necked and avaricious dwarf, will not agree to giving up the weapon. No-one suggests they should return their ‘rightful spoils’ (Grim’s words), but everyone thinks that lying to a priest in his temple whilst touching a sacred relic is not a good career move viz-a-viz continued good relations with aforementioned cleric, and possibly continued existence on this plane. Finally, Petra speaks up. “I have a cunning plan. Fetch me a small pot of red paint, a brush and three large hats. And send for the barber!“
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When Petra returns an hour later, Grim, Wes and Jeremy are sitting in their room drinking beer and wearing floppy hats. The gambler grins. “The swords yours, Grim. The priest believed me!”
Hats are removed, and there are grins all around, except from Wes. He scratches at the red paint in his hair and asks plaintively, “what exactly did you write on my forehead?”
(Craig [Petra] told me he’d actually read about this scheme to write ‘a great and fell destiny’ on someones forehead in a book by Hugh Cook. Neat idea!).
The next three days are spent resting and enduring low level harassment by the common folk of Stromdorf. Meals are late, and often have hairs and other foreign objects in them. Drinks are spilt, and arrive tardily. The local merchants are unwilling to bargain for their wares and the heroes pay premium prices for rather shabby goods. Small children follow the gang whenever they leave the Inn shouting insults and running away. Finally, a local carpenter offers Grim his ladder to ‘get up the steps’, and violence is only averted by the arrival of Magnus Gottschalk.
To cut a long story short, our heroes have an absolutely awful time being persecuted for their supposed theft of Olaus Stchelm’s sword. The only highlight is that Petra manages to sell the loot they’d obtained from looting the temple of Morr to the local fence, to whom she also owes her gambling debt. Again prices are not as good as they could be, particularly when Petra allows the dealer a 50% discount to clear her tab. (It’s getting difficult to conceal Petra’s petty larceny from the other players - were working along the lines of ‘any chance I get to screw the others, take it and tell me about it afterwards’. Some of the others suspect, I’m sure, but are saying nothing.)
When they are finally summoned to see the Burgomeister again, the trouser bandits are straining at the bit to get out of the town. Herr Adler calls them into his office and introduces them to Gubo Ackerland, a wealthy local farmer. It seems the nearby farms are being troubled by mysterious goblin raiders taking their livestock. What with the increase in rainfall ruining the crops, the towns food stocks are falling dangerously low, and the Mayor wants the problem sorted out as soon as possible. A fee is agreed upon (4 crowns, half before and half after), the players shake and decide to meet the farmer back at the Wissenland gate in an hour, before heading back to the Inn.
Where they find their belongings neatly stacked in the common room, the Innkeeper having decided that he no longer wanted ‘thieves and charlatans’ sheltering under his roof (fair call, I say), any other agreements notwithstanding. This leaves them in a rather delicate position with regards to the lightning stones - how do you lug two large hunks of marble around the countryside when you’re sneaking around looking for greenskins? The Celestial wizard, Niklaus Schulman steps up to the plate, and agrees to look after them, in return for first look at any other stones they find. A modest sum of money is exchanged (50s - to the players of course!), and oaths of fair dealing are exchanged on both sides, none of which are genuine (except for from Jeremy, and he’s an imbecile, credence wise). Petra then sneaks upstairs whilst Grim exchanges insults with the barman, Sebastien Brenner. A quick fiddle with the locks on their rooms and Petra is in, stealing all the candles she can find, along with a nice tinderbox. (Petty, I know but they’re living up to their moniker).
Meanwhile Wes chats to the barmaid, an ex-paramour who stole all his money last time they slept together, but he has no hard feelings, (see ‘four dead ‘uns and a funeral’). She reveals that there is is a new man staying at the Inn, asking lots of questions about strangers in town. He’d brought drawings of a band of outlaws he was interested in, the ‘Trouser Bandits’, and stuck them up behind the bar. She gestures over her shoulder, and Wes sees a rather blotchy picture of two dwarves, a devilish looking woman and a cloaked man. Gulp! None of the sketches are too clear, but the picture of Grim definitely looks like a slayer, and Petra’s image certainly seems to have the requisite sneakiness. Pulling down the poster (“we may look for them,” he reassures the woman), he hurries back to the rest of the crew with the bad news.
Another trek across town, this time rather hurried. Their journey is punctuated by dark looks, sneers and obscene gestures from the locals, before they reach Herr Ackerlands cart. Here they find their faithful sidekick, the local idiot, Waltrout Glockinger, standing by the wagon, with Cat curled up under cover inside. They unload all of the baggage onto the poor fool, then climb aboard, hunkering down in the back of the cart. Westward ho!
(Yes, the chickens are definitely coming home to roost. Much of this session was spent recovering and trying to buy equipment for the next foray into the wilds. The crew found this incredibly frustrating due to the huge number of misfortune die I added to their haggle tests, and the general unhelpfulness of the townsfolk. Being kicked out of the their cushy pad in the Thunderwater Inn, and the apparent interest in the Trouser bandits is pretty much the last straw. There are rumblings about holing up in the country for a bit by the heroes, or even leaving the environs of Stromdorf entirely [no, no, no! Not after all that work!]. Perhaps I ought to play down the appearance of the Imperial agent a bit. [hah!])
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For the players to do something stupid. Sad, but I love it when there's something I know coming and they do the least helpful thing; I have trouble not chortling at the upcoming train crash.
Also them doing something really silly (like stealing peoples trousers).
And when the party falls apart in the face of disaster, thats pretty funny too.
Oh yes, and that moment when you have completely forgotten the plot and the unexpected comes up and you make up something really ridiculous and the players just run with it, that's cool (But then you have to fit it into the scenario).
I suppose basically it's just having a good bunch of players that don't take it too seriously
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Love it. Combination of solid articles and fabulous illustrations (I mean really really good!) makes this easily as good as any commercial product. And still the other half to come! 97%.
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i'd be interested.
So what Inventions did your Engineers design?
in Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay
Posted
Oh yes, credit where credit is due, they were invented by Callidon, sort of blow up boots for endangered stunties. They have been largely superseded now for the more discerning adventures by the Mk II or ladies flocksummtroculators
'a number of flattened rubber hoops sewn onto a
pair of leather underpants. There is an abundance
of straps and shiny buckles, and each ring has a
small pipe expertly attached, which extend to a wide
belt that features a small metal flute shaped buckle
attached to a pocket watch'.*