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Monday, September 17, 2012
Rogue Transmissions Issue 2 Now Available
It's Fun, it's Full of Great Stuff, and it's Free, so go get a copy!
Spells (An Index)
"I have always been amazed at the way an ordinary observer lends so much more credence and attaches so much more importance to waking events than to those occurring in dreams...Man...is above all the plaything of his memory."
Spells are a very special part of most Role-Playing Games. They are preferred tools, special weapons and cool powers utilized by sorcerers, wizards and other spell-casters. They are also very personalized expressions of language, thought, imagination and power. As each generation of spell-crafters perfect their art and experts develop new forms, refined variations and enhanced models, the variety and specificity of specialized and customized spells continues to grow. Over time a number of easily-available and well-known spells have formed the core and foundation of most student's spell repertoires...but always, there are those who tinker, hack and cobble together new spells from bits and pieces of the older, more established forms. So the body of available, known and trade-able spells continues to grow over time.
Here is a selection of some less well-known spells that might prove of interest. We have opted to use the rather simple format employed by Labyrinth Lord for most of these spells, as that approach lends itself to easy modification or adaptation to other systems.
Aethyric Agitation
Animate Necrotic Tissue
Animate Unliving Servitor
Appreciation of True Weirdness
Arcane Adumbration
Assault of Chaos (Displacement Effects Table)
Auric Sheath
Babbletize
Bawd-Breath of Tsthathogguri-Malamala
Become Subject
Black Snag
Black Touch
Bloody Bones
Breathless and Unexplainable Dread
Cerebral Conception
Charnel Breath
Chartreuse Chasm (Greater & Lesser)
Clanking Chains
Cloud of Tasty Flies
Contraventory Injuction
Crow Claws
Crystallize Skull
Curdle Blood
Daemonical Cyst
Dalrin's Lesser Call (Corrected Transcription) [Includes Table: Ten Wicked Little Things]
Dalrin's Lesser Call (Uncorrected Transcription) [Includes Table: Ten Wicked Little Things]
Dark Immersion
Descent Unto the Hollow World
Dimfire
Dirt To Meat
Dispel Ectoplasm
Dissolve (Internal)
Dorind's Demulcent Yellow Hand
Draw Cut
Duplicate Weapon
Ectoplasmic Wall
Egregious Effusion
Elliptical Confoundity
Encrusted Filthiness (Lesser Nosferatus)
Enfold Object
Envenomate
Evocation of Unknown Forces (Effects of Unknown Forces Table)
Forestall Collapse
Gestural Globs
Gloomlight (Glyph of Gloom)
Graft Flesh
Heartclutch
Hold Shadow
Humble Murmurings
Idiot Gibbering (Lesser Nosferatus)
Idrivon's Fumigatory Vengance
Internalize Shadow
Interrogate the Bones
Jiggly Scribbles
Kazwen's Reflections
Lesser Receptivity
Listen to the Walls
Literary Incandescence
Malign and Particular Suspension of Natural Law
Malign Thought Emanations
Mark of the Ungezeifer (Lesser Nosferatus)
Molten Iron Mass
Muddle Path
Oneiric Bubble
Opening the Way
Pale Shelter (Serpentine Priestesses of Judrang)
Part Shadow (Serpentine Priestesses of Judrang)
Processions of the Damned
Protection from Aethyrial Intrusion
Protection from Shadows (Serpentine Priestesses of Judrang)
Pruscoorm's Palpitation
Rat's Teeth (Lesser Nosferatus)
Ratification (Lesser Nosferatus)
Reaffirm Fixed Laws
Removal
Safeguard Against Outermost Forces
Secret Murder
Serious Portentiousness
Shadowtheft
Sheeted Form
Sidgwick's Scabrous Servitor
Soft White Radiance of Judrang (Serpentine Priestesses of Judrang)
Speak With Dead (Variant)
Splinter Arrow
Squiggling Suppurating Sores of Salamak
Strange Big Stone
Tap Ley-Line
Terrible Conception
Thought Wall
Transfer Vitality
Transmute Liquor
Triple Shadow
Umbral Maiming
Unfix Boundaries
Unnatural Acromegally
Verminomorphosis
Vile Residue (Lesser Nosferatus)
Vistas of Unplumbed Space
Voorish Sign
White Blades (Serpentine Priestesses of Judrang)
Wrathful Facade
Xongir's Fingerling
Zaftigery
Zone of Normality
Zymurgic Disgestion
Rituals & Rites
Triple Circle
Addendum
More Spells for Sci-Fi Space Fantasy gaming using OD&D/Swords & Wizardry
[Compiled into the Space-Age Sorcery pdf]
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Bujilli: Episode 42
"Damn him." Leeja hissed. Her claws were extended and her hair was an inferno of white tendrils lashing violently around her.Previously...
Making their way through the first few levels of Idvard's Keep, Bujilli, Leeja and Bortho were able to re-stock a few essential items such as a new short bow and some arrows for Bujilli. Barracks, Workshops, Store Rooms. All in all it was fairly common-place and boring, just another Keep meant to house and support a small cadre. But then they came to a Domed Chamber. This was different, at least to Bujilli. Elaborately over-built to withstand an underground siege, the Domed Chamber was a junction of four passages leading off into the underworld, as well as a heavily fortified central shaft that led down into the depths. Each of the four lateral passages were accessed via a massive portcullis station. While Bujilli and Leeja examined the Domed Chamber, Bortho took it upon himself to carry on the hunt for his mate...
Bujilli looked around the Domed Chamber. Bortho's tracks were unmistakable in the dust. He gestured silently to Leeja to follow and set out at a trot after the errant guide. He quietly called upon his Counsel. Perhaps it could help him locate Bortho somehow? Yes. An image formed in his mind's eye. A map. He could see Bortho moving along a sloping passageway, not far ahead--there were other shapes moving towards Bortho from the opposite direction!
"He's just ahead, through that Portcullis. But he's not going to be alone for very much longer."
"He's gone ahead and blundered into a pack of his 'Grunters' then?" Leeja hissed in frustration.
"I think so. They're maybe a hundred feet away from him now. Even if we do catch up to him...they'll be right on top of us in no time."
"How many of them are there?" Leeja's voice took on a cold, calculating quality. She slipped smoothly into this amoral, predatory mode. Perhaps it was something in her nature. Maybe it was just long years of that being her only option. It made Bujilli briefly consider his own way of seeing the world. Growing up in an abusive household, he was loathe to judge other's survival strategies. He didn't argue with what worked. But sometimes, sometimes he did wonder about the cost, the repercussions of his, and other's choices.
They trotted past the second Portcullis and started down the sloping passageway. The dust in here was trudged-up into a layer of filthy mud mingled with manure and other things. Wagon tracks cut messy swathes through the muck. The walls radiated a gentle, almost directionless light that followed them as they broke into a run through the sloggy mess to reach Bortho before the Grunters got him.
Catching up to Bortho was the easy part. He stood along one side of the passage, clearly illuminated by the walls, staring back at Bujilli and Leeja with a sheepish, almost comical look of childish chagrin, as though he had been caught in the act of misbehaving.
Leeja hissed viciously. Bujilli grabbed her by the arm before she could flay their guide alive. She glared at him. But she restrained herself.
"You stupid bastard! Run! They're nearly on top of us!" Bujilli only barely stopped himself from yelling.
"Who?" mouthed Bortho. He was still attempting to remain silent and unobtrusive, despite the lit-up walls and the noise made by Bujilli and Leeja. The boy was so obsessed over recovering his mate that he wasn't thinking straight. He wasn't really thinking at all. Like the majority of his people, he was a creature of instinct and intuition, not deep thought or contemplation. For all Bujilli knew, they might well be completely devoid of a conscience. He had a sinking feeling that they were intended to develop along fairly brutal lines. Born fighters. Deliberately kept ignorant and locked in perpetual savagery. Fodder for someone else's wars. It turned his stomach.
"Grunters." Leeja snarled.
Bortho went even paler than usual. He wavered. Unsure what to do. Bujilli grabbed his arm and yanked. Hard.
"Run damn you!" Bujilli pulled the boy after him as he started to run back towards the Portcullis and whatever safety it might hold for them. He was trying to sort out what he saw of the control mechanisms. They didn't look like the simple lever or winch-type affairs that he had seen in other places. He hoped they could figure out how to drop the damned thing before the Grunters caught up to them.
Bortho slipped in the fetid slop.
Leeja screamed.
A black-shafted javelin was lodged in her torso. No. Not in her torso, but caught in her armor. What used to serve as her armor. The crudely-fashioned boiled-leather demi-cuirass was ruined now. In tatters. Shredded by the wicked barbs on the javelin.
Bujilli stopped. Turned. Leeja looked directly into his eyes. She smiled. Sweetly. Sinisterly.
The javelin fell to the muck.
Leeja turned.
Her hair flashed and flickered like ivory flames as she ran headlong right at the Grunters.
Three of them were dead, decapitated and down in the gory mud before Bujilli could catch up to her.
There had only been four of the things.
Four misshapen, lumpy and vaguely piggish heads lay where they landed.
Aside from their heavy breathing it was deathly quiet.
Leeja picked up four of the barbed javelins. The fourth one had to be pried from the former owner's clenched fist. She did so with a vicious jerk.
Bujilli squatted down beside the nearest Grunter corpse. It was man-shaped, in a manner of speaking. It went about on two hooved feet, had two arms, and definitely had something of a piggish look to it. Heavy, jowly-jaws and widely flaring nostrils that extended into rude snouts. Ugly, brutish, with tiny little milky amber-tinted eyes that couldn't possibly be of much use. Their backs were distorted, bulging with powerful muscles...that twitched and spasmed. Bujilli quickly drew his tulwar across the squirming back of the Grunter. The badly-cured leather armor parted like the skin of an egg-plant. Rancid pink-orange pus oozed from the mottled and mangled backside of the creature.
Fungi.
Bujilli rose from his crouching position and backed away.
"We need to leave. Now." He tried to sound calm.
Leeja growled. she wasn't ready to go just yet.
"I said NOW." He pointed at the disgusting mess sloshing down into the trampled, gory mud.
Leeja's eyes went wide with sudden realization.
They ran.
The floor of the passageway vibrated as if from a massive impact. The walls reverberated with a deep rumbling. It reminded Builli of a ship's anchor being hauled up--
"RUN!" He shouted.
Bortho was lowering the Portcullis...
Will they make it back through the Portcullis before it drops and locks into place?
Should they even try?
Are there more Grunters headed this way?
Or was this just an especially unlucky group of hunters or scouts?
What kind of fungi would fill Bujilli with such a sense of dread?
Is it something that we've seen before, perhaps?
Or something new and ultra-nasty in its own right?
What will happen next?
You Decide!
Should they even try?
Are there more Grunters headed this way?
Or was this just an especially unlucky group of hunters or scouts?
What kind of fungi would fill Bujilli with such a sense of dread?
Is it something that we've seen before, perhaps?
Or something new and ultra-nasty in its own right?
What will happen next?
You Decide!
Series Indexes
About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play
Bujilli's Character Sheet | Leeja's Character Sheet | Cast of Characters
Bujilli's Spells | Little Brown Journals | Loot Tally | House Rules
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
Series Six(Episodes 100-ongoing)
Labyrinth Lord | Advanced Edition Companion
Bujilli: Side-View of Idvard's Keep (WIP)
And here is a quick diagram of the Portcullis arrangements...minus the murderholes, pit-traps and so forth. Also the Spiral-Ramp to Sub-Level 2B is locked and should be obscured by a clever bit of camouflage, but accumulated dust and debris has made the access-way fairly visible to anyone taking a few minutes to give everything a good look-over.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Schroedinger & Cave--Dealers in Discrete Curiosities
The Premises"There was, until a year ago, a little and very grimy-looking shop near Seven Dials over which, in weather-worn yellow lettering, the name of "C. Cave, Naturalist and Dealer in Antiquities," was inscribed. The contents of its window were curiously variegated. They comprised some elephant tusks and an imperfect set of chessmen, beads and weapons, a box of eyes, two skulls of tigers and one human, several moth-eaten stuffed monkeys (one holding a lamp), an old-fashioned cabinet, a flyblown ostrich egg or so, some fishing-tackle, and an extraordinarily dirty, empty glass fish tank. There was also, at the moment the story begins, a mass of crystal, worked into the shape of an egg and brilliantly polished. And at that two people, who stood outside the window, were looking, one of them a tall, thin clergyman, the other a black-bearded young man of dusky complexion and unobtrusive costume. The dusky young man spoke with eager gesticulation, and seemed anxious for his companion to purchase the article."
From The Crystal Egg by H. G. Wells
Over the doorway to a scruffy and dingy shop in a seedy part of the low streets, on the bad end of the Burned Over District, there's a cracked and peeling sign that reads 'Schroedinger & Cave: Naturalists, & Dealers in Curiosities, Prodigies & Antiquities. (discrete).' The part where it used to provide the date they were established is worn away, possibly through weathering, more likely from being damaged in a riot or from a lingering miasma. It's a dingy, cramped, piled and messy place. No one has cleaned or dusted the shelves for decades, if anyone has even attempted such a thankless and futile task, which is highly unlikely. Dozens of cats prowl the shop constantly, but only one is ever seen at a given moment and never the same one twice.
The Proprietors
Schroedinger is a third-generation Paranaturalist. He studied at the Academy in Wermspittle, as did his parents and grand parents before him. His family has been here for nearly a century, and still they are seen as upstarts and interlopers by the Established Families. An accomplished dowser, Schroedinger is often consulted in matters regarding Ley-Lines and Weak Points. In his youth he discovered, cataloged and mapped over a hundred Weak Points, but that was before the wars and prior to his unfortunate encounter with a Horla that left him with a slight limp. He doesn't go exploring any more. Those days are over now. He has a business to run and a wife to consider (She is rumored to be a Midwife...). His expertise in matters of the paranormal and knowledge of anomalous phenomena often brings in more money than any of the peculiar artifacts or items that he has collected and made available for sale. There are many students who come to the shop to discuss things with this old man who seems to be far more knowledgeable than their own professors, or at least far more approachable and personable. There are overstuffed chairs, a fireplace and hot tea in the back for those who make a suitable impression on old man Schroedinger. He dearly loves to hear about the exploits of those actively engaged in researching the Weak Points, Ley-Lines, Nexii and related matters. He also acts as an informal mentor to a few exceptionally gifted young people who have all but adopted him.
Where as her partner's obsession with Weak Points has ushered-in a new era of genteel poverty for the shop, Mrs. Cave is much more down-to-earth. A born Praeternaturalist and a trained archaeologist, she has spent a considerable amount of time digging through cellars, tunneling into burial sites and scraping dirt, dust and muck off of many of the more mundane specimens and items scattered about the shop. Her gift for Psychometry is uncannily accurate and has led to her unraveling several imposters, frauds and hoaxes, much to the disappointment of her colleague and co-owner. Her husband, a mid-level non-commissioned officer in the Sewer Militia, disappeared three years ago. He is assumed dead, or worse. Lately she has been contemplating taking a trip down along the Cold Roads. There has to be someplace better than Wermspittle. But under no circumstances will Mrs. Cave abandon the shop, at least not until after her daughter graduates from the Academy, then Mrs. Cave might finally leave this place once and for all. Of course, she expects her daughter to take her place in the shop, as she took her mother's place, as is tradition within their family. Her daughter, however has gotten strange ideas into her head and may break with tradition, effectively stranding her mother in the shop, a situation that has generated much friction and tension between mother and daughter.
The Policies
'Caveat Emptor' is engraved across the ceiling tiles, prominently displayed on dozens of little placards dangling from nearly every shelf, box or display case. Nothing is guaranteed, no claims of authenticity are made, no questions regarding provenance are asked. Much of what they have on display appears to be so much junk and rubbish, but mixed in with the debris and dusty relics are any number of strange and sometimes incredible things. Spurious specimens, anomalous archaeological finds, objects from places unknown to any map or geographer, bizarre artifacts that couldn't possibly be real; the stuff that dreams are made of mingles freely with the fictional and the fraudulent upon the shelves, within the display cases and stacked within the bins and boxes piled willy-nilly anywhere there is room for the stuff.
They do not buy books. The shop has a long-standing agreement with several of the local map-makers, book-sellers and scroll-vendors, originally negotiated by their great-great-grandparents who first established the shop here in Wermspittle after having transferred their operations from another city. There is a framed portrait of the two families disembarking from an airship hung behind the old, manual cash register. None of the faces ever look exactly the same due to a fluke in the preparation of the colloidal baths used by the photographer, or so they'll tell anyone who asks.
The shop does a regular and often brisk trade in reacquired properties, unclaimed goods, lost luggage, found objects and the like. This is a discrete shop after all, so a lot of things pass through here that it were better for all concerned that the fewer questions asked, the better. Unless Mr. Schroedinger or Mrs. Cave wish to volunteer some morsel of lore or make an off-hand observation, completely off the record. Of course in the event of their accepting a 'consultation fee,' the casual prohibition against making indelicate inquiries is waived, to the extent that the money is good, real and of respectable valuation.
Not A Pawn-Shop
Both Mr. Schroedinger and Mrs. Cave would be scandalized and offended were anyone to refer to their operation as some sort of hockshop filled with so much cheap bric-a-brac. Anyone uncouth enough to offend either co-proprietor earns themselves a permanent +20% 'non-discount' on any purchases they might wish to make and the back-rooms are off limits to them. They will also receive low bids (just short of insultingly so) for anything they wish to sell to the shop, unless it is truly exceptional.
That said, they will sometimes make private loans against certain rare heirlooms held in trust against the eventual repayment of the balance, interest free of course, they are not usurers. But this is an exceptional service only offered to certain select, regular and reliable customers who have made a positive impression on one or both of the co-owners.
Some of the Things you Might Find in This Shop
- Back Alley Magic (Index | Label Search)
- Damned Things (Index | Label Search)
- Found Objects (Index | Label Search)
- Low-End Loot (Index | Label Search)
- Questionable Trinkets & Trash (Index | Label Search)
- Sewer Salvage (Index | Label Search)
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Lithus Sector: Intro to Lithus (Sector/System/Planet)
Lithus Sector occupies a region of space that has been claimed, settled, fought over and lost again and again by numerous planetary states, stellar nations, xeno-civilizations and AIsocieties over a period of millions of years. History in this region is a densely tangled Gordian Knot complicated by the deliberate revisionism of militant software and numerous other factors. Ruins litter practically every known solar system within the Sector. Myriads of Mega-Structures, Nomad Planets, and other Big Dumb Objects drift through the Lithus Sector like driftwood on a storm-tossed sea; such things are far too common for anyone's liking. Xeno-archaeology is not just the number one industry, it is a matter of survival for many of the species that have attempted to settle on one or more of the worlds of this Sector. Others explore this region in order to discover answers and revelations that are often more dangerous than any hyper-bomb or warhacked-plague.
System
The Lithus Solar System (Coord.: 03.05) sits at the core of this Sector. The entire solar system has been dismantled and reconstructed into The Sarabande, a collection of thousands of inter-connected ecologies concentrated within a dense band of overlapping orbital strata that stretches from deep within the Inner System outwards to the former domains of the three gas giants that are recorded as having been 'processed' as part of the effort of restructuring this solar system. The Sarabande extends the Goldilocks Zone of the Lithus system across an incredible volume. Less than 3% of the habitable zone within The Sarabande has ever been explored by any one faction, despite numerous on-going expeditions, automated probe missions, survey-ships and the efforts of several popular Netcasting Xenoploitation Teams. It was an unnamed Achernarian military accountant who first verified that the habitable zones of The Sarabande were still growing, continuing to expand outwards. The proof of their claim survived their assassination during a botched attempt to defect to one of the Entrenched Nations of the planet Lithus.
Planet
The planet Lithus orbits at the inner-most fringe of The Sarabande. It occupies an orbit roughly analogous to Venus. The surface is 90% water. Both polar regions are dominated by chains of maelstrom-whirlpools and at least six major underwater volcanoes. Either pole is enveloped in a massive, nearly perpetual storm system making these regions extremely difficult and dangerous to travel. The central oceanic belt is broken-up by vast kelp forests, sargassum-mats, and coral reefs. The Central Atolls are renowned across the Sector for their beaches, pleasant weather and plentiful seafood. Lithus combines the very best and the very worst features of a so-called 'water world.' The major population centers of the planet Lithus are the Dome-States and Entrenched Nations. Numerous Island States dot the world (The Ishmaelian Ishtmus, for example), most of them exist primarily as a consequence of various legal requirements, banking practices or external political policies (Lithus remains a primary host to Dictators-in-exile, ousted corporate heads, and the like). Everything is registered, licensed and inspected on Lithus, unless you know whom to bribe or how to beat the system. The only thing more numerous than fish on Lithus is loopholes in the regulations, rules and laws.
People
The one thing that all the various clades, clans and corporate affiliates can agree upon is that none of the peoples currently active on the world of Lithus are truly 'native.' Even the claims of the Selak-Tribals has been proven false, or at least 'selectively revisionist' since the discovery of the crude sleeper-ship that brought their ancestors to Lithus 43,000 years ago. If there are any indigenous sentient beings left upon Lithus, no one has found them or managed to put forward any credible, acceptable proof of their existence.
Currently there are over 600 recorded and registered species, races or genomic-polities known to have a presence on Lithus. The most populous group is officially the Selak-Tribals. The most dominant groups are the Merellon Corp-clade, the Aquarials and the Piscear, though this distinction is practically meaningless as no one faction has enough power to really dominate much of anything and the entire world is loosely collectivized under the Maritime Authority, the Coastal Defense Forces and the Board of Tourism, a triumvirate of bickering, squabbling, bureaucratic agencies who are locked in a perpetual clandestine struggle for influence, prestige and ostensible control over the various regulatory agencies that are the real root of all economic power on Lithus and beyond.
Politics
Lithus was one of those sleepy back-water worlds whose officials were easily bought and sold like commodities, the sort of corrupt world so divided against itself that no one really ever knew what anyone else was up to and thus it became a favorite play-ground for numerous corporations, banks, and other such institutions. The digital infrastructure of Lithus was constantly upgraded and improved far beyond that of many much more populous, powerful or popular worlds in order to handle the demands of the corporate elite who used Lithus as a repository, a hub and a vacation destination. Dirty secrets, untraceable financial transactions, shady negotiations, backdoor deals and embezzled funds flowed into and through Lithus. Submerged vaults integrated into the deepest roots of the largest coral reefs or far below the peaks of underwater mountains held bullion, contracts, evidence and more. Lithus is a world where people hide things. The Lithus Common Market employs an encryption protocol so complex that it achieved awareness decades ago and oversees itself. The LCM is so discrete that all manner of banned, illicit and illegal transactions take place freely and in the open, but no law enforcement agency has ever been able to actually prove anything or secure coherent records of any of it. Though many continue to try.
Seedy, sultry and seething with corruption, Lithus might have only ever been a salacious footnote in a travel guide if only things had gone differently. With the incursion of the Rilligong and the collapse of the Third Republic of Fomdrang, chaos has spread throughout the interstellar states and principalities. War has broken out across Known Space. Nano-plagues have subverted or killed dozens of other worlds. Something is targeting the standard drives of the starfaring species, something heretofore unknown or unsuspected. Ships are disappearing, and not just to piracy, ambush or enemy actions. There is something Else at work out there in the void. But no one knows what it is, what it might be, or much of anything else. Instead everyone blames someone else. Rumors are flying fast and furious. Colonies are crashing. Settlements are being abandoned. And in the midst of it all, Lithus goes on doing business as usual. A tainted beacon of civilization at the center of a vast whirlwind of destruction, devastation and disaster.
More than one Government-in-Exile has established an Embassy, Consulate or Delegation on Lithus. Leaders, ambassadors and representatives find themselves dealing with ousted or banished predecessors as well as former rivals and questionable allies. Uprisings, revolutions, assassinations are the order of the day. Previously consolidated world-states are falling apart as one nation after another secedes or seeks to take control. Civil war rages across several once-powerful worlds and solar systems. Humanoid barbarians wielding atomic weapons have begun to raid the more decadent worlds of Tregio (00.03), Allarro (00.06), and Vomo (01.09). Unidentified alien hordes have descended upon Donthir (07.02) and elsewhere. Pangazzi (03.08), once a vital, thriving and politically-unified solar commonwealth, is now a rubble-strewn warzone where already two inhabited worlds have been destroyed by unspeakable weapons long denied to even exist. The one place that seems stable, even secure in the middle of all this turmoil and bloodshed is Lithus. For now.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Bujilli: Episode 41
Previously...
Bujilli and Leeja enjoyed a hearty feast while Idvard attempted to hire their services in locating and securing a breach in the defenses of his new tower's underground sections. Vicious, brutish 'Grunters' had wandered into Idvard's new keep, but so far there had been nothing to alert the things to what was going on. So far. However, on their most recent raid the Grunters captured one of the few remaining local tribesfolk. Her mate, Bortho, has volunteered to serve as a native guide in service to Idvard. Bortho intends to recapture his mate at all costs, as soon as possible. But Bortho, as with all the rest of his small tribe, is terrified of the underground sections of the ruins they occupy. Only his desire to rescue his mate could make Bortho enter into the places below.
Deeply rested, well-fed and intensely curious, Bujilli and Leeja have agreed to do some preliminary scouting of the immediate vicinity beneath the Keep. In addition to their salvage rights, they have negotiated an informal contract with Idvard that Leeja assures Bujilli is an exceptionally lucrative deal.
To wit: In return for their efforts in scouting-out the lower reaches of the Keep, Idvard has agreed to graciously bestow one spell, six pounds of pink salt, and 120 silver coins apiece to each of the intrepid explorers. Should they succeed in securing the breach down below, without attracting the attention of the Grunters or anyone else, then as a bonus, they will each be allowed to transcribe as many spells or rites they care to personally copy from Idvard's personal library, with the guarantee of free, personal access to the library free-of-charge for the rest of their lives. It was a fairly lucrative arrangement. Far better than most such deals would be...but Idvard was desperate and in dire need of their help, hence his erring on the side of generosity. Without their assistance, he could easily lose all his books, or worse. Idvard feared losing all he'd spent years working towards. All because he'd acted precipitously, prematurely. He'd waited and schemed a long, long time. When Bujilli and Leeja fell into his attic, it set Idvard to moving. Finally. But timing is everything. Especially in Wermspittle. Even amid the ruins of an Adjacent World...
Three flights of dry, white-stone ramp-way below the rubble-strewn ground floor they discovered signs of the Grunters. A severed human hand gnawed-off at the wrist like some grisly child's treat. Bortho blanched at the sight of the thing. It was not his mate's.
The ground floor was reasonably secure. Bortho's tribe had cleared the worst of the debris and were in the process of inspecting and securing the outer walls. All the trees and bushes within fifty feet of the outer walls had been chopped down and either converted into supports, replacement timbers, or stacked as fire-wood. Hunters ventured out into the surrounding ruins and returned with more meat than the small group had ever seen before. Game was plentiful. The cisterns seemed to replenish themselves without need of rain. Life was good, for the first time. The tribe worked hard. Their lives depended on the Keep's defenses and they knew it. But not one of them would go down below. Not for anything. They were terrified of what lurked down there. The Grunters.
The first two sub-levels had proven unspectacular. Mostly empty barracks, storage and arsenals that had been stripped down to a few shoddy pole-arms and other weapons that Bortho insisted on lugging and stacking at the foot of the ramp-way for his people to gather-up later. Bujilli shook his head and Leeja scowled as they left Bortho to his labors. They seriously doubted that Bortho would get any of his fellows to collect the weapons. Bujilli was able to find a reasonably suitable short bow and six arrows with wickedly barbed heads. Cold iron. The fletchings were thin vanes of slightly flexible yellow metal with a nasty edge all their own. They found the cold, dead remains of a fair-sized smithy and armorer's workshop. A few choice tools found their way into each of their pouches or packs. Beyond the well-ventilated workshops were more storage areas. Metal stocks. Exotic hardwoods. A carpenter's workshop. A ceramicist's workshop, but one devoid of pottery--here they molded parts of armor, helmets, gauntlets, and other things. A fortune in raw materials. A fortune extremely difficult for two people to transport. But they took a few odds and ends here and there and kept moving.
By the time they had made a complete circuit of the second level, Bortho had completed, or at least given up on his stock-piling effort.
Past the point where they discovered the maggoty-hand there was a cold, dark circular chamber. Right at the very center of the Keep's internal axis. The portcullis was still raised and locked in place. It must have weighed a good ton or more, all of it blackened iron. The dim luminance seeping from the rough walls played-out as they approached the portcullis and the dome-like chamber beyond. Bujilli made use of his Gloomlight spell.
It grew colder.
They could see their own breath.
"So, do we drop this thing and head back now, or go on a bit farther?" Leeja whispered as she gripped Bujilli's arm.
"Let's see what there is to see in this chamber ahead." Bujilli whispered back.
Bortho watched them both intently. Quietly. Almost expectantly. His eyes were wide with barely suppressed fear.
The chamber was cut into the rock. It formed a dome. There were four entrances, each one equipped with a massive black-iron portcullis. None of them had been dropped into place. At the center of the chamber was a heavily reinforced, inward-sloping crenellated railing, really a parapet, with several large, wheeled manlets set along the circumference as though it were some sort of inverted version of the outer defenses. Everything was covered in a thick coat of dust.
Braziers. Metal tubs of congealed tar or sugar-fine sand. Stout metal rods for lifting the tubs into place over the braziers. Sealed bins that when opened disgorged heavy lumps of anthracite. Racks of flanged javelins, arrows, pole-arms. This place was set-up to defend against an army. Bujilli filled his newfound hip quiver so it held a full twenty arrows and then he slung a second quiver of another twenty of the metal-fletched arrows across his back, just in case. It was more than he was used to carrying at any one time, but he wanted to make sure he had enough arrows at-hand if they found themselves faced with a situation where he needed to be using his new-found bow.
"Bizarre." Bujilli leaned over the parapet to peer below. He slowly eased the Gloomlight over the edge in order to not betray his position to any...thing...that might be down below. The parapet overlooked a sloping, spike-laced shaft. He estimated it as descending at least a couple of hundred feet down. straight down. Every four or five feet there was a spike, more like a sword-blade really, set slanted downwards to deter or impede anyone, anything from making its way up through the shaft.
Nothing moved down there. Not that he could see.
Looking up at the vaulted ceiling revealed a system of chains, pulleys. It was an elaborate defensive emplacement. Twelve block-and-tackles were set-up around the circumference of the parapet, each one held a large net of rubble mixed with large caltrops suspended over the shaft. A clever pulley-and-cable assembly allowed a single defender to swing one of the heavy masses of droppable debris into position and let it rain down upon the enemy as needed.
"A small force could hold this position for quite a while." Bujilli continued to walk along the parapet. It was a masterpiece of fortification. But ultimately futile.
"Assuming the enemy did not resort to explosives, cannon or poison gas. Or something worse." Leeja shook her head sadly at some distant memory.
"But surely any army coming up from below wouldn't be using cannon? Would they?"
"Depends. Anything your enemy doesn't expect is precisely the thing to spring upon them, don't you think?"
"Yes. That makes sense. Good strategy. But wouldn't it just end-up caving everything in on their heads?"
"Not always. Not all cannon use blackpowder. Besides, why bother? Look around. What's missing from this place?" Leeja watched Bujilli closely. Her eyes shone green-gold in the dimness. Feral stars that were appraising him.
Bujilli stopped in his tracks. He looked around at everything as if seeing it all for the first time. He ignored Bortho who was cowering back by the portcullis.
"It's too empty. Too ship-shape; everything is in its place. No bodies. No bones. Was it abandoned?"
"No."
"How are you so sure?"
Leeja held out her hand. Bujilli took the object she offered to him. It was dry, papery, a chitinous shell.
"Beetles?" he examined the insect in his hand. It was perfectly preserved. There were others here and there about the place, but he hadn't noticed them until Leeja made him aware of them.
"Yes. Beetles. Swarms of the vermin can be raised cheaply and quickly and they can scale a shaft like this in seconds. And they aren't going to be slowed down by javelins, arrows or rocks." Leeja laughed. It was all a big joke. This incredible fortification was pointless. Less than that; it was a veritable death-trap for the defenders.
"Surely fire would stop them..."
"But fire requires ventilation. Breathable air is at a premium in a space like this--that's one reason why those braziers are used to heat-up tar or sand. Open flames use-up air and are as much a liability to the ones using it as to anyone they might be facing...and there are things down below that do not need to breathe." Leeja sat down with her back against one of the tubs of sand with a heavy sigh.
"This area seems well ventilated..."
"It had better be. But what of the section just below this one?"
"I don't know. I would guess that it isn't so well ventilated--no sense in making things easy on your opponents..."
"Exactly. I guess we should be thankful that there aren't any blast-pumps or slime-channels to worry about. Only a fool lets those sorts of things get between them and the surface."
"Blast-pumps? What are those?" Bujilli sat down across from Leeja.
"A way to rapidly flood or drain-out an enclosed area. Intruders drown or are washed away into an underground river or whatever with minimal effort or expenditure. It's a common form of defense back home."
"Home?" Bujilli considered her words carefully. Leeja was revealing things about her past. Things she very likely never shared with anyone ever before.
"AmanUtal. The so-called Nine Citadels of the Deep Regions. Siege warfare works...differently...in Aman Utal. Not like this..." She gestured to the fortified structure around them; "...not often. Only the oldest, smallest, or most isolated enclaves would ever resort to such simplistic, ineffective tactics. This is most likely the sort of things that a surface-dweller would choose. Even those with only a passing familiarity with the miasmas, let alone the vermin prowling the backstreets or sewers of Wermspittle would realize that this is not a particularly sound defense. Not from a real threat."
"I don't know--this shaft could be warded. The cisterns could be tapped in order to plumb a crude flooding trap like you described. It still would allow a small group to hold off a fairly conventional army..."
"If they had a defense against poison gas--"
"Like the masks they use in Kalkendru. Exactly."
"Kalkendru?" Leeja arched an eyebrow. It was his turn to share something with her now.
"A wretched place. It's a jungle-overgrown region deep within a sheer-walled canyon that runs for many miles deep through the heart of a poisonous red desert that is all that remains of a once verdant continent back home. The world I come from." He paused a moment to consider what he'd just said. For so long it had been an impossible dream to escape the world he'd been born into. Now he was in another world, an Adjacent World linked back to yet another world, a new world, at least to him. His dream had come true.
"Jungles are usually hot, humid places..."
"Yes. Exactly. Kalkendru is riddled with geysers and fumaroles, stinking mineral springs and boiling mud. The plants grow so fast that you can watch the vines reach towards you. Some of them will coil around anyone who falls asleep or passes out--they drag them off to be digested by huge carnivorous plant-things. Nothing will burn; it's all to wet or full of sap and sloppy juices. The ground, if you can find it, is muddy and treacherous and squirming with parasites. So it's best to remain arboreal and move from tree to tree. Unfortunately, the trees have all grown up through the tangled and mangled remains of some sort of metallic structure, every surface of which is razor-sharp and dripping with condensation or poisonous ichor. The second most common form of death in that place is poison gasses. Anyone wanting at least a fighting chance has to wear a gas mask. But any given mask only lasts for a week or so before it is rotted away by the fungus, the acid, or the digestive juices dripping off of the plants like sticky rain."
"Yet you managed to make it through this place?" Leeja's voice carried the unmistakable tone of respect.
"Barely. You see...there are creatures that prowl the Blade Maze. Brutish, pox-ridden pig-things. It took me the better part of two and a half weeks to get through the Blade Maze. If there had been any other route to get where I was going, I would have taken it. Gladly. But the Gem insisted on my going through Kalkendru. I was nearly captured by these creatures multiple times. I was able to learn something of their language from..." He shivered in revulsion, "...one of their own sorcerers. She wanted me to serve her." He spat in disgust.
"Serve?" Leeja looked into his eyes. Revulsion and realization came without words. They sat in silence for a few heartbeats, then Bujilli continued;
"She was powerful. A better sorcerer than I. By far. But I grew up among the Almas and I know a few tricks low-landers like her or her filthy clan never saw coming. I learned to fight against the Yeren. They're head-takers. I used the Yeren tactic of setting out a few of the pig-thing's heads each morning in a spot they were sure to find them. Sure enough, they got over being mad and started to fear for their own heads. They eventually abandoned her.”
“And that's when you escaped?”
“No. That's when I took her head. She wouldn't stop coming after me. She was insane. Obsessed. She wanted the Gem.”
“Oh. And what was so special about this Gem?”
“I found it in a tomb deep down in a forgotten little box canyon my uncle had discovered from reading over some old, dead adventurer's journals. It was...alive...I guess. It whispered to me, at first in my dreams, but later, after we'd developed some sort of psychic connection the Gem taught me spells that it said I would need when I got to some place called 'Zalchis.' The Gem promised me just about everything or anything I could name or imagine. I trusted it. Until it betrayed me one time too many. It very nearly got me killed by a Zurian Princess who was also seeking after the damned thing...just like DuKushKa...”
“This Gem sounds evil...”
“Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that I cannot trust it. So I left it behind when I found the way to Wermspittle.”
“And what about the pig-sorceress' head?” Leeja asked practically. There was power in such things. One did not squander it when it came into your hands. In that regard, her mother had taught her well.
“I sold it to a lemur-eyed shaman. It paid for my passage across the Sea of Ebon Tears.”
Leeja didn't ask what the shaman wanted with the severed head. She knew that there was no good answer.
It was cold. First Leeja rose to her feet then Bujilli followed. They began walking around the parapet again.
“So do we go back and drop the portcullis and get back to the Academy? Or do you want to go a bit farther? Like down one of those three other passages?” Leeja waved at the portcullis hanging above the short passage where they had entered the chamber.
“We can drop the portcullis. But if we do that, we're cutting ourselves off from the rest of this place. And we're not sure where exactly the pig-things are getting in...”
“Bortho is gone.”
Bujilli spat. He jogged over to the entrance, looked at the tracks in the dust. Bortho had left a clear trail. He'd headed right for the passage on their left as they entered. Looking closer he could discern the muddled tracks of one or more persons who had taken the precaution of attempting to wipe-away most of the evidence of their having passed this way. It had been done well enough to get Bujilli and Leeja to both overlook the tracks. But not Bortho.
“He's gone on ahead. He's following these smudged hoof-prints. If he gets himself captured by the Grunters...well...it'll only be a matter of time before they send another raiding party into this place.”
“So do we go after him?”
Should they follow Bortho?
Examine one of the other two passages?
Go back and report to Idvard?
Climb down the shaft to see where that leads?
Sit and have a nice picnic in the cold, the dust and dead bugs?
You Decide!
Examine one of the other two passages?
Go back and report to Idvard?
Climb down the shaft to see where that leads?
Sit and have a nice picnic in the cold, the dust and dead bugs?
You Decide!
Series Indexes
About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play
Bujilli's Character Sheet | Leeja's Character Sheet | Cast of Characters
Bujilli's Spells | Little Brown Journals | Loot Tally | House Rules
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
Series Six(Episodes 100-ongoing)
Labyrinth Lord | Advanced Edition Companion
Friday, August 31, 2012
A Fateful Encounter on Xudriss II
We're currently exploring Diaspora, based in large part on account of John's advocacy and glowing praise of this FATE-derived RPG. We have a Cluster under development and expect to run a few in-house scenarios over the next few weeks in order to properly kick the tires and check things out for ourselves.
In the meantime, we're still building stuff for Rogue Space, including our on-going series detailing the mysteries of Lithus Sector which will finally get back on-track and on-schedule this Tuesday.
Have a great Labor Day weekend!
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