Thursday, June 28, 2012

Bujilli: Episode 31

Bujilli and Leeja were attacked by a group of students. One of the attackers shot Bujilli only to lose his head. Another was dealt with by Leeja who now is carrying a severely wounded third attacker. Three more would-be assassins have been discouraged from following and as Bujilli and Leeja turned the corner they were confronted by Unfred...

"Get in here!" Unfred barked. His breath reeked of onions.

Leeja looked at Bujilli.

He nodded.

The girl needed tending to. She wasn't going to make it if they didn't get her some help right away. Bujilli wanted answers...preferably without having to interrogate the dead to get them. He disliked necromancy. He distrusted the dead. For good reason.

Unfred slammed the heavy door and threw the bolt.

"On the table." He pointed.

Leeja slid the unconscious girl onto the work table. She backed up apprehensively. Almost skittish. Her weird eyes never once wavered or left Unfred. Her claws were out.

Unfred ignored the Un-girl and started examining his impromptu patient.

Bujilli watched the big man attend to the wounded girl. He was gentle. Deft. Well-used to such things.

"She's lost a lot of blood, but she'll have a good chance of making it. No thanks to your blade." Unfred scowled, "What are your intentions?"

"I want answers."

"Oh do you now?" Unfred reared back from the table. His spine cracked thrice. A nasty grin split his scarred, pocked face.

"Yes. I want to know why she..." he pointed to the girl "...attacked us out there."

"She attacked you?" Unfred wavered momentarily.

"Yes. Her friend shot me. There were three of them. They had another three friends backing them up."

"And they are?" Unfred perched his meaty fists upon his ample thighs.

"One lies headless next to his fire-arm."

"I dealt with the other one." Hissed Leeja.

"And I dissuaded the other three from pursuing us."

"You dissuaded them? How?"

"I have my ways."

Unfred stared into Bujilli's eyes.

Finally the tension broke.

"Don't we all? Fine. Trade secret. I understand. Used to belong to a guild before I bought my way out. Like that did me much good. Hah."

"Who is this girl? What can you tell me about her?"

"She's another one of the bitter dregs left-over from the Winter. Like your--"

"Her name was Sharisse. She was lodging in the dorm next to mine."

"You knew her then?" Bujilli turned to Leeja. His fingers flexed instinctively. Spells gleamed and glittered in the back of his mind, each one nudging him like a pack of greyhounds eager to get released.

"No. Not really. We both worked the pens. We both..."

"They both survived the Winter. No little thing. Especially since neither of you had any money or much luck, eh Leeja?"

"I'm no whore!" Leeja shrilled.

"Not that anyone is tossing coins about girl--some as don't have your particular talents have to find some way to get by, don't they? Not everyone makes the best choices. Especially when they're hungry and scared." Unfred looked down on the girl laid out on his work table. He shook his head ever so slightly.

"Why would Sharisse and her friends attack me? Us?" He gestured to include Leeja, "I fail to understand what they thought they were going to gain." Bujilli stared at the girl.

"Gain? Hah. Not all who attack are out to gain. Some just as soon kill or maim as spout uncouth words. You've not endured a Winter in this place. It is harsh. Unforgiving. Not all who come through it really survive, not as such. Some come into Spring damaged, ruined. Not just tainted or befouled with the White Powder. There are those who go feral. Wild. some began with far less to lose than the rest, making it a short trip indeed. Like this one."

"I can understand that." Bujilli closed his eyes for just a moment. Just long enough to push away unwonted memories.

"Yes. I believe you do, don't you?" Unfred growled sympathetically.

"So why did she attack him?" Leeja scratched a deep furrow in the table next to the girl's arm.

Unfred snorted.

"Why do you think? Stupid girl." He shook his head slowly. Sadly. "She wanted more than she had. She was terrified of facing another Winter without some sort of an edge. Without friends. Without hope."

"What do you mean?" Bujilli placed his hand on Leeja's shoulder to forestall any outburst. She shivered like a wet cat. But she didn't shrug off his touch.

"Look at her." Unfred bowed his head. In shame?

Bujilli stepped over to the table and took a better look at the girl. She was filthy. Rags. Everything she wore was cast-off or cobbled-together from disparate pieces and broken parts. Her scars held a weird, slightly quicksilver sheen to them--"

"Yes. You've noticed." Unfred drew his blunt finger along the edge of the scar that twisted around Sharisse's right wrist. Like a throbbing eel the scar bulged and writhed. Alive. Parasitical.

"" Bujilli gripped the handle of his tulwar and caught himself before fully making the Voorish Sign.


"Worms?" Bujilli's voice squeaked comically.

"Yes. There's a few vermin-peddlers and wermifices who know how to raise small batches of Gore Worms that they feed a solution containing a good amount of refined White Powder."

"But why? These...things...are alive and under her skin--" Pieces began to click into place for Bujilli. It was not a pretty picture. Not at all.

"Of course. They wouldn't do her much good otherwise."

"What do you mean?" He closed his eyes, knowing he already suspected the answer and dreading confirmation of his suspicions.

"The worms are parasites. They process all White Powder derivatives in her bloodstream."

"Process? How? Why?"

"It's a way to get through the hard times. The worms work to help their host survive, at least physically. For the most part. They aren't too finicky about whether you're still alive or undead, so long as the blood flows and they get their fix."

"So these worms help keep her alive?" Bujilli could barely keep the revulsion he felt from his voice.

"They're the only thing that have kept her alive. Here. Let me show you." Unfred snatched-up a knife and busied himself removing the make-shift bandages around her abdomen. "Here. Take a look at your handiwork."

Bujilli moved around to Unfred's side. He looked down on the section of the girl's exposed belly. The wound was sealed with pulsing, glistening wermskin.

Sharisse opened her eyes. Her irises were pools of blood, vivid red and unsettling with the desperate, insatiable hunger they radiated.

Leeja held her half-extended claws right before the girl's face.

She didn't scream.

She didn't flinch.

She didn't say a word.

Bujilli stepped back. He wasn't quite so hungry any more.

Unfred brought over a ladle dripping cool well-water and handed it to the girl.

She looked at Leeja.

Leeja withdrew her hand. The girl sat up and took the ladle from Unfred so she could sip the water quietly.

Unfred took the empty ladle and quietly retreated to the back of the kitchen. He began peeling tiny rutabegas.

"You -- and your friends -- attacked me -- us -- I want to know why."

Sharisse laughed. It was an unpleasant sound. It reminded Bujilli of a screech owl. An owl trapped in a deep well.

"I don't have friends."

"Why did you attack him?" demanded Leeja.

"You do have friends, don't you?" Sharisse smiled nastily. She stretched. Her limbs were long, lithe and only slightly unnaturally narrow. A poet would describe her as being coltish. If he was drunk, blind and ignorant of the things writhing about beneath her scarred and pocked skin.

"Yes. I do." Bujilli thought of Gnosiomandus, Hedard, Beatrice Eberhard...they had all been decent to him, after their own fashion. Maybe they were his friends? He wasn't sure. He'd never had friends before...

"Would you like for me to be your friend too?" Sharisse licked her lips hungrily...


Should Bujilli attempt to befriend Sharisse?
How might he go about asking her his questions?
He does want answers, but how best to get them?
How will he know if she's lying?
Why did Sharisse and her allies attack?
Were they doing some else's dirty business?
If so, who were they working for?
What's the motivation?

What's going on in this place?

What's the deal with Unfred?

So many questions...

What should Bujilli do next?

You Decide!

Previous                                                    Next

Series Indexes
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play

Bujilli's Spells | Little Brown Journals | Loot Tally | House Rules

Episode Guides
Series One (Episodes 1-19)
Series Two (Episode 20-36)
Series Three (Episodes 37-49)
Series Four (Episodes 50-68)
Series Five (Episodes 69-99)
Series Six(Episodes 100-ongoing)

Labyrinth Lord   |   Advanced Edition Companion

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Synthetic Soldiers (Mutant Future)

Second Order Synthetic Soldier (Infantry)
Hit Dice: 2d4 per point of CON
Mutations: Regenerative Capability II, plus 2 beneficial (any category).
Stats: Roll 4d6 discard lowest roll.

Second Order Synthetic Soldiers are highly adaptive, quick to learn from their mistakes, and born to fight. They rapidly acclimate to the prevailing environment of whatever world they are upon, enduring incredible extremes of heat, cold or worse (+4 bonus on Saves for heat and cold-based attacks/conditions). Radiation affects them at 2 class levels lower than its rating (no minimum), and they never receive extra mutations from radiation exposure. They are immune to the effects of poison and only take half damage from acids/corrosives on a failed Save.

Since the discovery of the Polyphasic Pentaprism on Jorus II, the Second Order High Command has sent regiment after regiment of Synthetic Soldiers through hundreds of vortexes opened up by their Vortecticians. Some of these units establish beach-heads for full-on invasion efforts, while others are not quite so successful or lucky. Some regiments have disappeared, or been lost when the vortex closed prematurely.

Consequently, there are any number of dislocated and displaced units of Synthetic Soldiers scattered across the galaxy and beyond. A few fight to find a way back home, others seek to carve out a new life for themselves well away from the prying minds and administrative reach of their former commanding officers.

Second Order Synthetic Soldiers have been encountered on Zandreel III, Denebus V, Ain IV and a number of other worlds, moons and habitats that have been ravaged, ruined, blasted or crashed in the course of several different, parallel yet sometimes overlapping interstellar wars and hypertemporal conflicts.

New Equipment
Standard Issue Armor -- Moderate (AC 5) Night Vision, Pain Insensitivity, Selective Reflection. Powered by integrated bio-reactor. Self Repairing (treat as Regeneration, recovering 10 hit points of damage per day). Comms range of 100 miles (auto-encrypted).

Standard Issue Field Gear -- Trenching tool, Utility belt, Combat knife, 1d6 grenades (random), Gauss SMG, Laser Rifle or X-Laser Rifle.

New Mutations
Regenerative Capability II
Mutant regains 1d4 hit points per hour continuously. They can regrow severed limbs in 1d4+2 days. There is a base 30% chance that they will regenerate from the dead unless reduced to ashes.

Selective Reflection
This armor can be set to reflect one specific energy type per attack similar to how the Reflective Epidermis mutation functions (MF p.25). The armor then is impervious to that particular form of attack, but remains vulnerable to all other types of energy.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Bujilli: Episode 30

Bujilli has been shot. One of his attackers is dead. One was attended to by Leeja. One lies at his feet. Bleeding profusely. But alive. For now.

"What will you do with him?" whispered Leeja.

Her voice was husky. Smoky. A serpent's kiss.

Bujilli looked down on the prone body before him. Rags. Tatters. Someone's belt that had been crudely re-tooled to fit the scrawny child's all-too-narrow abdomen.

He felt the blood running down his arm. It dribbled off of the tip of his tulwar.


It was all over the floor of the pen.

Bujilli grabbed hold of his would-be ambusher and dragged them out of the pen. He wasn't particularly rough. But he wasn't gentle, either. A trail of blood led back into the pen. Where it mingled. With Bujilli's blood.

He rolled the body over.

A girl.

She was barely fourteen, from the look of her. Dirty. Bedraggled. Hungry. Oh so pale.

Pox marks dotted her neck.

She carried scars across her left cheek.

A survivor of poor fortunes. So far.

Bujilli shook his head. The tulwar felt like a burning torch in his hand. He considered cleansing himself of this unfortunate piece of human trash.



"You're bleeding." Leeja reminded him.

"So is she." He felt faint for a moment.


Not again. He could feel the onset of fever. The same fever he experienced in his efforts to salvage Lemuel from the Vile Transformation. The shot. It was tainted. Tampered with. Deliberately packed with White Powder or some derivative.

Immunological Counter-Measures Initiated

"Thank you machine." He whispered to his Counsel.

Bujilli slumped to his knees as his body fought off the poison.

"Are you..." Leeja's hand went stiff on his shoulder. Withdrawn. He heard her gasp like a shocked catfish yanked unceremoniously from a deep well.

"" He hissed through clenched teeth. The pain was less. This time. Perhaps he was getting used to the stuff. He prayed not.

"And this one?" Leeja nudged the girl's body with her boot.

"Can she be saved?"

"You would do that?"

"I want answers. I want to know why she and her two friends attacked me. I want to end this once and for all."

"Ah. You wish for revenge--"

"No. Revenge is sterile. A barren reward at best. Worthless. I want knowledge. I need to know, to understand why they attacked me. What did they seek to gain? Were they acting on their own, or did someone else put them up to it? If so; who? I want answers. Not riddles. Not blood. Answers. Now."

"Hmmm...I will bind her wound. She's lost a lot of blood. Unf--" Leeja hoisted the girl to her feet, "We need to get moving. It's too quiet. Too many eyes watching."

"Machine--can you tell me if there are others close by, hostile lurkers, possible attackers?"

Initiating Scan Within Stated Parameters

Three Potential Attackers Detected

Query: Initiate Pursuit Deterrence Protocol

"We have at least three others out there. Why haven't they attacked already?" Bujilli rose into a fighting crouch. A partly squashed lead ball clinked to the floor. He could feel the fever draining away. His muscles ached to run, to jump, to slash and whirl and fight. Fight. FIGHT.

"Follow me." Leeja carried the unconscious girl in her arms like a rag doll and ran.

Bujilli followed. His every step was exhilarating. Intoxicating.

"Machine--what do you mean by 'Pursuit Deterrence'?" He whispered to his Counsel.

A series of images flashed through his mind's eye. The third image in particular brought a smile to his crooked lips.

"Yes. The third option. That should do the trick."

Initiating Pursuit Deterrence Protocol Three

Golden mist seeped from Bujilli's pores as he ran after Leeja.

Golden motes danced in his wake briefly, then coalesced, then rippled and set off back towards the pen.

A cloud, after a fashion, descended upon the spattered blood Bujilli had left behind.

The drops and splashes of blood formed a pattern across the floor. Outlined in golden light.

Then it all went black.

A scent of ashes filled the air.

Sooty particles erupted from the floor. Everywhere Bujilli had bled poured forth a fountain of black specks.

A dark cloud rose from the floor.

It swirled gratingly, wavered, pulsed, then lunged even as it split into three masses.

Each of the three potential attackers found themselves facing into a swirling cloud of sticky black not-snow.

The stuff clung to them. Stained their clothes and skin. Obscured their field of vision. Used-up their oxygen and forced them, choking and coughing, to back off or suffocate. They fled as they were flushed from their positions of hiding, wheezing and half-blinded, mucous trailing from their tortured sinuses. Their work done,  the clouds collapsed into dead ashes. But not before transmitting an image of each of the three directly to Bujilli.

One was a boy with green eyes and a nasty smirk whom Bujilli had never seen before. The second was dressed in baggy, shapeless stuff and wore a crude mask. Another unknown. But the third one. Yes. He'd seen her before. She had luminous opal eyes. The crying girl he had run into almost immediately after first leaving his room. She was involved with the kids who had tried to kill him. But why? What could he have possibly done to offend her? 'Lost and clueless.' She had said that, accused him, really. She had been right.

Leeja rounded a corner then stopped abruptly.

Unfred stood there. Ponderous. Ominous. A hulking obstacle before them both.

"Get in here!" He bawled...

Will the wounded girl survive? Should she?

What is going on with the opal-eyed girl?

Where does Unfred fit into all this?

So...does Bujilli go along with Unfred?

Or does he fight--Fight--FIGHT?

Or is there another option?

You Decide!

Previous                                                       Next

Series Indexes
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play

Bujilli's Spells | Little Brown Journals | Loot Tally | House Rules

Episode Guides
Series One (Episodes 1-19)
Series Two (Episode 20-36)
Series Three (Episodes 37-49)
Series Four (Episodes 50-68)
Series Five (Episodes 69-99)
Series Six(Episodes 100-ongoing)

Labyrinth Lord   |   Advanced Edition Companion

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Low-End Loot, Table V

Low-End Loot: Table V (D30)

  1. One slightly crushed silver snuff box, missing the lid.
  2. Bundle of 22 bungs. The cord they've been bound with is frayed and about to give way.
  3. Saddle blanket.
  4. Four small animal traps on a single rusty chain. The third one doesn't work quite right.
  5. One box of 3 dozen candles. They've all melted into one dense brick, but with some patience each candle can be chipped out of the waxy block in 1d4 minutes.
  6. 122 feet of stout cordage wrapped willy-nilly around a rough stick.
  7. Simple lead plumb bob or plummet in a velvet draw-string bag.
  8. Lodestone, snapped in half.
  9. Cobbler's needle-punch. Can be used as a weapon inflicting 1d2 damage.
  10. 2d4 assorted files in a leather sack. The ones that aren't chipped or cracked are rusty.
  11. Three heavy pig-iron wedges used in splitting stumps, etc.
  12. A draw-knife that has a wobbly handle.
  13. Bronze tripod meant to support a ceremonial incense brazier.
  14. 1 seriously nicked-up Peavey-hook.
  15. Heavy wooden cutting board removed from a near-by tavern.
  16. 32 feet of thin cord rolled-up in a sack of powdered chalk.
  17. One heavy, left-handed glove crafted from extra-thick leather, scorched along the edges and pitted across backside.
  18. Wooden bucket. Expertly repaired bottom. No handle.
  19. 20 pounds of rendered fat in a covered pail.
  20. Small wooden box containing 43 horse-shoe nails.
  21. Poorly repaired war hammer, used as a meat-tenderizer.
  22. Rug-beater.
  23. 12 pounds of borax packed into a small barrel.
  24. 43 grooved lead runners carefully stored in a flat, wide wooden box with a side compartment for various tools used in repairing stained glass.
  25. A single 104-pound block of rock salt.
  26. 6 pounds of vivid blue limojes-style vitreous enamel in a sealed wooden canister.
  27. 1d4 chisels. No hammer.
  28. 3 bottles of clear fluid. One is denatured alcohol. The second is distilled water. The third is Prussic acid.
  29. A dwarf or child-sized auger.
  30. 3 pair of mis-matched metal-working tongs.

Monday, June 18, 2012


No. Enc.: 1d4 (3d4)
Alignment: Chaotic (40%, Neutral 40%, Lawful 10%)
Movement: 90'
Armor Class: 6
Hit Dice: 4
Attacks: 1
Damage: 1d4 (tail-strike), by spell/wand
Save: MU 5
Morale: 8

Extraplanar pseudo-reptilian sorcerers, the Drynak prowl the forgotten and buried ruins of ancient civilizations in search of magical wands, rods, scepters or staves. Consummate masters of the arts and sciences involved in the creation and manufacture of such items, the Drynak seek out obscure examples of other people's artifice and skill. They are connoisseurs of linear, axially-extended magical artifacts of all sorts and they have been known to go to elaborate measures to secure especially rare or controversial examples of the wand-maker's art.

All Drynak carry one or more magical wands as a primary weapon. They can examine and ascertain the use/application of any wand they find, similar to how a Thief can read some scrolls. (They have a % chance to discover the function of any wand/rod/scepter/staff equal to the Read Scroll ability of a Thief of level equal to their HD.) This is a non-magical ability gained from long years of devoted study and practice.

Drynak lack thumbs, though they do have a slight cartilaginous structure along the edge of each hand that they can raise selectively and use to help them grip things. Because of the peculiar structure of their hands, Drynak cannot use bows, cross-bows nor most fire-arms, unless they are first re-tooled and re-configured for their use. Despite the lack of a real thumb, they are exceptionally dexterous and incredibly gifted at wood-carving, horn-working, ivory-crafting and similar arts and crafts. They employ charmed or otherwise controlled slaves to do all their metal-working, or hire it out to other beings such as the Ilgideeri or others of that ilk.

The green blood of the Drynak is poisonous to most mammals. When properly mixed with certain aromatic oils and herbal compounds, Drynak blood forms a paste that somehow disrupts most forms of undead. Various anti-undead cultists hunt the Drynak for this reason, and it has led some Drynak enclaves into the sordid practice of auctioning their life-blood off to the highest bidders...

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Bujilli: Episode 29

Leeja, the girl with white hair whom Bujilli just met in the Beast Pens has turned out to be far more than just another pretty face. In fact Leeja appears to be something other than strictly human. And now Bujilli must decide whether her recent attempt to infiltrate his mind, body and soul is something that he should see as an attack, or more of a misunderstanding. He's a stranger in this strange world, and perhaps...perhaps...Leeja might still be of some help to him. If he establishes firm boundaries and explicit expectations up front.
But all of that isn't what really concerns Bujilli. What bothers him most is that on some level, he rather enjoyed Leeja's subtle predation upon his person. Her attentions could become achingly addictive if allowed to continue...

"Your Nature?" Bujilli barked the words. His stomach rumbled. His skin crawled. All his hairs were on-end and he fought his body's automatic tendency to go into a fighting crouch.

He'd fought demons, yeren, oni and worse over the years...but this felt different somehow. Different and new. New and dangerous.

"I...apologize. I should not have done that. I realize that now..." Leeja averted her eyes. Stared at the floor. Fidgeted. She resembled a little girl caught in the act.

Bujilli smirked. He saw all the hallmarks of a consummate manipulator, an adept in emotional camouflage and misdirection. Like the hairless demon-bitch his uncle kept locked-up in a seven-metal cage no one else was supposed to know about. She'd taught Bujilli a few things before his uncle discovered their covert liaison. Her destruction had been painful to witness. Painful but instructive. He'd sworn then not to be fooled again, not by such creatures, not ever again.

"What are you?" He considered employing the Wrathful Facade spell, but held back. Willing disclosure was more valuable than fear-inspired confession. Bujilli distrusted the questionable fruits of fear or guilt; they were too closely akin to the misleading narratives received under torture. Only a fool believed anything gained in such a manner.

"My father was a great Lord among the Pallid, before he was driven out of the Garden by his ancestral enemies. My mother was born among the lowfolk who dwell in the deep places below Aman Utal, but she was out-caste, the child of an unsanctioned union. Thus I was also out-caste. Unsanctioned. Unwelcome."

Bujilli stared at the pale girl in disbelief. Shock. She had been unwanted, unwelcome among her mother's people, even as he had been. Half-breed, hybrid, not quite acceptable.

He shook his head. It was incredible. He wasn't used to having anything in common with anyone else.

"I grew up wandering the deep regions. My parents...they both died along the way to this place."

"You're an orphan?"

"There are a lot of orphans in Wermspittle. More every Spring." she shrugged.

"It appears that we have a few things in common. For that reason, I am willing to make an allowance for our initial misunderstanding. But listen to me well; never, ever try that...that...with me ever again." He glared at her. There was no need to append any 'or else' clauses to the statement. His intentions were crystal clear.

"I understand. I will respect your wishes in the matter."

"Good. I would rather discover allies than make enemies in this place."

"Do you wish for me to leave you now?" She hesitated delicately, poised on the precipice between unfounded hope and utter defeat.

"If you can behave yourself and speak openly and honestly, then I'd like for you to act as my guide, as we discussed originally."

Leeja smiled broadly. A bit more broadly than should have been possible.

"Let me get cleaned-up here," she pointed to an area past an arch on the right, "and we can go get some food and discuss where to begin your tour."

Bujilli nodded assent. She traipsed away to the showers. He watched her go. There was something alluring in her movements. Seductive. He looked away. It reminded him of Ahtrishka. His eyes burned slightly at the memory. Her kiss-mark was a scar upon his soul. One of many. But Her scar was also a gift. It had saved him from succumbing to Leeja's intimate invasion of his being. It let him discern what was happening. Made it a choice. An invitation. Not a violation. Not outright. Not as completely as it could have been. Might have been. Might--

He shook his head once again.

The subtle touch of those tendrils...


But Bujilli had experience with such things. They left a bitter after-taste. Ashes. Scars. Screams in the midst of one's dreams as they curdle into nightmares.

The temptation passed.


Like an insidious liquor that still burned upon his lips and tongue.

His soul.

He performed the Voorish Sign once more.

He hoped it would be enough.

It wasn't Leeja he was worried about.

It was himself.



Sharp, acrid smoke.

White. Billowing. Smoke.

Why was he leaning against the wall?

He slipped. There was blood dribbling down his arm. Left arm.

Bujilli watched the blood drip from his finger-tips.

His blood.

Bujilli smiled, his thick lips peeling back from his teeth. The tulwar whipped out with a snicker-snack.

He pushed off from the wall and went into a fighting crouch as he quickly scanned the area for some sign of his assailant.


No one.

Empty pens.

The office door was locked. Unfred had left the premises or was hiding.




Three figures. One tall and lanky, with a gonne of some kind, probably a fowling piece. Pitchfork, sizzling prod-stick.

Bujilli moved back into the dissipating cloud of white smoke. He moved quickly, quietly past the empty manticore pen and slipped behind some stacked crates and supplies.

He checked his wound. It was superficial. Not more than a scratch, really. But it could be trouble enough if it went septic or was tainted. This was a filthy place. He set the tulwar against the crates and pulled out some yak-wool rags. He packed the coarse fabric into the wound so it would clot quickly. Then he re-gripped his blade and snuck around to the other side of the crates.

The three assailants were arguing.

He grinned nastily.

He considered his options. Invisibility would be a waste with the lingering smoke. But Haste. Yes. That would do the trick.

Bujilli cast Haste.

Then he climbed to the top of the crates and leaped back onto the mezzanine. He ran along the mezzanine until he came up directly across from the three attackers and without pausing ran right at them, leaping from the railing and landing right in their midst.



The impact was jarring, but he didn't let it slow him down. He swept the legs out from under the pitchfork wielder. Spin. Extend. Jarring stop.

The shooter's head left his shoulders.

Bujilli stood up.

The prod-wielder stared at him in terror.

His accomplice's head landed in front of him with a wet thud.

The fowling piece clattered to the floor.

Bujilli grinned.

The would-be assailant threw away his prod. Turned. Ran.

Directly into Leeja.

He tried to scream but quickly succumbed to her peculiar embrace.

She looked at Bujilli.

He nodded.

She devoured the assailant.

Bujilli tore away his gaze. He examined the second assailant. He kicked the pitchfork out of easy reach. Kneeling down he could tell that they were still breathing. Blood was seeping out from under their body.

Bujilli considered the boy sprawled on the dirty floor bleeding out his life.

What should Bujilli do now?

Let the attacker die?
Or should he try to save the attacker in order to find out who sent them and/or why they attacked?

Are there more assailants waiting in the wings?
(somebody Roll Some Dice!)

What is the connection between Leeja and these attackers?
What is going on with Unfred?

So many questions...What will Bujilli's next move be?

You Decide!

Previous                                                       Next

Series Indexes
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play

Bujilli's Spells | Little Brown Journals | Loot Tally | House Rules

Episode Guides
Series One (Episodes 1-19)
Series Two (Episode 20-36)
Series Three (Episodes 37-49)
Series Four (Episodes 50-68)
Series Five (Episodes 69-99)
Series Six(Episodes 100-ongoing)

Labyrinth Lord   |   Advanced Edition Companion

Slight Delay Due to Weather

Just a quick note. Thunderstorms have moved in overhead and we're going offline until things settle down.
Bujilli may be a bit delayed, but it's because of weather.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Kepler 22-B: A Strange New World

John Stater (Land of Nod), the mad genius behind the Nod, Mystery Men, Pars Fortuna and more great stuff than you can shake a dead kobold at, has set into motion a collaborative & imaginative Planetary Survey of the gargantuan exoplanet Kepler 22-B. This effort is wide open, system-less, and each sector is assigned on a first-come, first-served basis.

The Home-Base and central hub of all activity surrounding this project is the Strange New World blog.

We suggest beginning at the Welcome to Kepler 22-B post. This sums up the aims, goals and general methodology of the project.

The Master Map is ginormous. There's plenty of room for everyone and just about anything on this huge alien world.

If you'd like to join-in the fun, then contact Mr. Stater via his Profile on the Strange New World blog. Everything you create remains yours. See the Copyright Page for details.


No. Enc.: 1 (1d6)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 120' (40')
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 2
Attacks: 2
Damage: 1d4x2 (hooves), 1d4+2 (horns), or by weapon or spell
Save: F2
Morale: 5

Fast runners and impressive jumpers, the quick-tempered warriors of the Okauni are a well-known feature of the harsh savannas of Kiloom, the violet veldt of Vitrok, and dozens of other regions of predominantly plains, scrub or prairie. There are hundreds of tribal groups scattered across the vast Interior Zone wastes of Jalamere.

Nomads and wanderers, the Okauni don't even think twice about crossing over into other worlds; they simply follow the trails and move from place to place, paying no heed to such silly and false distinctions as boundaries, territory, or private property.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Pit Nibbler

Pit Nibbler
No. Enc.: 1d20 (1d100)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 90' (60')
Armor Class: 6
Hit Dice: 1+
Attacks: 1 (Bite, scratch or weapon)
Damage: 1d4/1d4/1d4+poison
Save: F1
Morale: 4

Loathsome little hybrids, Pit Nibblers are the spawn of degenerate kobolds who've bonded with certain pale reptiles who dwell around particularly disreputable fumaroles and accursed mineral springs deep below.

Savage little cowards, the Pit Nibblers will rarely strike out directly unless in immediate peril. Instead they will lurk in the shadows and bide their time until they can launch an ambush, where they can make the most devious use of their numbers.

What weapons they have are rigged-together from bones and cast-off bits of debris that they have scavenged from other underground-dwelling communities. They poison their arrows, darts, javelins and tridents with a noxious concoction of saliva and slime that discolors wounds a livid greenish-black and has a 5% chance of causing a form of Gangrene. (Save or the affected body part will turn black, shrivel and become useless as it rots away over the course of 1d4 days. Cure DiseaseRestoration or Regenerate will remove this effect and allow the affected limb to be used normally after 1d4 days of recovery.)

Pit Nibblers raise a variety of subterranean lizards as pets, pack-beasts, guards and consorts...and they are known to harbor some sort of grudge against the Koponu for so-far unknown reasons...

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Corbin: From the Sketchbook

No. Enc.: 1d4 (2d6)
Alignment: 90% Chaotic/10% Neutral
Movement: 90' (30')
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 3 (Gain levels as dual-class Thief/Magic-users)
Attacks: 1
Damage: 1d4 (Bite), or by weapon/spell
Save: MU4
Morale: 10

Sly con-artists, cunning ambushers, ravenous bandits with a fondness for all things shiny, the Corbin prowl the peripheries of settled territories looking for likely marks, gullible dupes or obvious victims to loot, rob or pillage. But these are not simplistic pig-snouted brutes who stomp around hacking things with axes and pissing in wells, no--these are clever humanoids who seek to acquire ill-gotten gains by way of subterfuge, misdirection, trickery and without drawing a weapon...when they can. But should all else fail, or a target prove unwilling to abide by the Corbin's rules, they will get nasty. Plenty nasty. Watch out for the back-stabber behind you...

Starships & Spacemen, 2nd Edition

Goblinoid Games is bringing out a Revised Second Edition of Starships & SpacemenThey are seeking crowd-funding for this new edition via IndieGoGoAccording to the IndieGoGo page, this edition will be compatible with Labyrinth Lord and Mutant Future. That makes this new version of Starships & Spacemen all the more interesting, at least to us...

Friday, June 8, 2012

Praek of Yomnur

Praek of Yomnur
No. Enc.: 1d4 (3d4)
Alignment: 80% Neutral/20% Chaotic
Movement: 60'
         Swim: 120'
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 3
Attacks: 1
Damage: 1d6 or by weapon/spell
Save: F3
Morale: 8

Enigmatic amphibians, the Praek make their soggy dens deep within the hardest to reach parts of the dense, dark jungles and canopied swamps of Yomnur.

The Praek see much that goes unnoticed by those lacking four eyes capable of discerning the delicate shading of a Horla's coat or the subtle outlines of the Unseen Beasts that they hunt for food during the rainy seasons.

The Praek are believed by some to see into the future. This has yet to be reliably confirmed. Most expeditions that set out to determine this matter disappear.

Arcane Flavor

Chaotic Shiny Productions brought out Arcane Flavor a few months ago, but this post appears to have gotten misplaced or overlooked in the messy transfer-over from the old (now defunct) Netherwerks blog.

Having re-read the booklet, we're even more enthusiastic about recommending it to open-minded DM/GMs than before.

Arcane Flavor is  a very well-written and useful resource for fleshing out the backgrounds, cultural aspects and heritage of various arcane-type characters. While it is geared towards 4th Edition rules, this material could easily be plugged into older editions or even completely other-than-D&D-rule-sets with only a little effort.

There are a lot of great ideas inside this book. The various cultures have heft; they feel like there is something to them, without getting all buried under too much prose or too many details or anything like that. This is a dynamic resource meant to be used, not just read and forgotten--these cultures have a life of their own and each one comes packed with adventure ideas, hooks, and the kind of engaging, intriguing, inspiring details that make you want to build characters from these societies and to go explore the places revealed within each section. Like the very best such resources, Arcane Flavor presents just enough information to get your imagination revving and the dice rolling.

In the interest of full disclosure, we proof-read the manuscript and we both thoroughly enjoyed Arcane Flavor. We do not currently play 4th Edition, but like we said above: It would take very little effort to adapt Arcane Flavor to Labyrinth Lord, or some similar Old School rules-set, and frankly the cultures are worth the effort. This booklet is very well-done and a great value. We highly recommend it to anyone interested in constructing interesting cultures for their table-top gaming (regardless of edition/brand) or fiction writing efforts.

You can find out more about Arcane Flavor at Chaotic Shiny Productions

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Bujilli: Episode 28

Leaving Hedrard's office, Bujilli decided to do some exploring before heading off to try and meet with Sprague in the East Wing of the Academy. He didn't get very far before he found himself looking down on the pens, cells and pits used for holding and caring for exotic beasts used in the Arena, Experimental Surgeries, Physionometrist's Labs, Biology Classes, and other purposes. He watched a dead manticore being removed from an isolated cell and saw a chance to meet someone new, so Bujilli dropped down into the cell from the mezzanine and introduced himself only to be ignored. Then Unfred, The Keeper's Third Assistant Under-Janitor, caught him in the pens. This might have gone badly, but Bujilli mentioned that he had a Voucher from Hedrard. Unfred backed down and designated Leeja, the white-haired girl who was ignoring Bujilli previously, as his guide. Now he just needs to decide where he wants to go...

"Have you gotten yourself assigned to a dormitory yet? Have you eaten?" The girl with white hair stared at Bujilli. Her eyes. The gold in her irises swirled. Like clouds.

"I have a room. It's temporary. And no; I haven't eaten in...a while now." Bujilli realized he was famished. Food sounded really good right now.

"A room? You have a private room, all to yourself?" Leeja blurted incredulously.

"Yes. For now. Gnosiomandus arranged it for me just before he had to leave--"

"You know Gnosiomandus?!?" Leeja had large, expressive eyes. Golden-green irises. Skin like fresh yak's milk in the morning light. Surprisingly, to Bujilli, un-hairy. He'd not seen such smooth skin up close before. Leeja was quite attractive. And she knew it. 

"Yes...I mean no...I mean we've only recently met."

Leeja's shoulders sunk in disappointment. An almost petulant quiver pulsed across her lip then evaporated as she quickly recalculated the situation.

"...but he has agreed to take me on as a student--" Bujilli stumbled on. He felt strange. Normally reticent and quiet by nature, now he wanted to divulge practically every detail of his life story. To a stranger. To this girl.

"Really? What a fabulous break. You're very lucky!" Leeja smiled seductively. She smelled blood after all.

"I guess so..." Bujilli scowled. Shook his head. The hairs of his nape and forearms were standing on end. 

"Well, that settles it. Let's get out of here. If you don't mind a slight detour, we can swing by my dorm and I can get cleaned-up. Then we can go get something to eat and we can start your orientation." Leeja began to lead the way out of the half-cleaned pen.

"Okay. I think..." Bujilli shook his head once more. It wouldn't clear. His brain felt like it was pickled in honey. Sweet. Sticky. Stuck. In-between arousal and hunger, intoxication and excitement. Something was...

"Are you okay?" She asked oh so solicitously, a smile emerging from her perfect, alabaster--


Bujilli stepped back. He adjusted his eyes to more readily see the things no one notices, a trick his Uncle taught him as a child. A trick that had saved his life dozens of times before. Like now.

He brought up his right hand and quickly, carefully, matter of factly made the Voorish Sign.

Leeja screamed.


Bujilli felt the insidious, all-too-intimate touch of dozens of minute tendrils slither back and away from him, each one lashing and snapping at his soul like invisible vipers.

He hesitated. His hand tight on the grip of his tulwar. A quick litany of his spells filled his inner vision with a swarm of iconic glyphs, each one color-coded as to its current usefulness and effect.

"Stop. Please." Leeja retracted her claws. Her eyes were mauve around the shining golden irises.

"Give me a reason." He barked hoarsely.

Her eyes pored over him, searching, seeking, desperate.

She bowed her head. Shuddered.

" I...meant no offense..."

Bujilli laughed. He clapped his hands derisively. A spell hovered close at-hand, ready to erupt in an instant. He was curious just what Zymurgic Disgestion would actually do to someone...

"You meant no offense?! You were influencing my mind, insinuating yourself into my soul--"

"Yes. I was. It is in my nature."

They both stood there, poised on the brink of terrible violence. Each staring into the other's eyes.

Leeja looked away.

Bujilli's stomach rumbled.

He considered the white-haired girl before him.


What should Bujilli do next?

Now that he has some idea of Leeja's true nature, can he trust her?

Does Bujilli need to trust her?

Should he put Leeja to work giving him a tour of the campus?
Perhaps they might come to some sort of agreement?

You Decide!

Previous                                                    Next

Series Indexes
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play

Bujilli's Spells | Little Brown Journals | Loot Tally | House Rules

Episode Guides
Series One (Episodes 1-19)
Series Two (Episode 20-36)
Series Three (Episodes 37-49)
Series Four (Episodes 50-68)
Series Five (Episodes 69-99)
Series Six(Episodes 100-ongoing)

Labyrinth Lord   |   Advanced Edition Companion