Games We Enjoy

We've gone through a few changes over the last few years, but we're still plugging away, building stuff for the games we play and like. Here is a short list of the games we make things for, and that we are involved with in terms of hosting a campaign, running scenarios at conventions, or taking up the role of a player character from time to time.

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Labyrinth Lord
We've been building resources for Labyrinth Lord for a few years now. We'll be running some Labyrinth Lord scenarios at Con of the North in February 2014, including a session devoted to the dauntless Cellar Inspectors of Wermspittle. The revised and expanded Zilgor's Repose, Grimoire Vol. I, and two different Bestiaries will all be Labyrinth Lord Compatible products that we hope to release soon. We'll post an Index of all our Labyrinth Lord posts in the next few days. We also plan on expanding things to include Advanced Edition Characters and possibly Realms of Crawling Chaos. Wermspittle is firmly rooted in Labyrinth Lord and the first supplement for this setting will be Labyrinth Lord Compatible.

Mutant Future
Our first set of September Short Adventures featured ten scenarios for Mutant Future. We also offer Pig in a Poke as a Mutant Future Scenario-Seed, several Monsters & Mutants such as the Rilligong and Synthetic Soldiers, and there will be more Mutant Future stuff coming in the weeks ahead.

Swords & Wizardry
We originally wrote-up a bunch of stuff for Swords & Wizardry (White Box), but have since moved on to Swords & Wizardry Complete. Our two Mini-Adventures from S&W Appreciation Day have been revised, edited and expanded into PDFs that will be released very soon. We're also going to be running some Swords & Wizardry adventures at Con of the North in February 2014. More details, including a revised Index of our S&W stuff will be posted to the blog as we get it all revamped and revised. A series of Mini-Adventures are in the works currently, each one taking place in, on or around the ruined necropolis and crumbling villages squatting along the fringes of that region known as the Gravelands. In addition, the Space Age Sorcery sourcebooks are powered by Swords & Wizardry.

FATE & FAE
Yes. We backed a Kickstarter. Our books are on the way, but we have the PDFs and we've been tinkering with some of this newfangled stuff and we like what this system brings out in our stuff...
(It's all John's Fault.)

Isophasmic Light
Incredibly compact set of ultra-flexible rules from Porky. A complete re-think of what rules need to be, and an intriguing system that just simply invites collaboration and improvisation from the beginning.

Rogue Space RPG
Fenway's rules-light Skirmish-level SciFi RPG. You can find our Index HERE. You can download a version of the rules at the RogueSpace Blog. Our first adventure for Rogue Space is going back into revision and editing, we expect it will be available in the new and improved format after the first of the year.


We are also considering one or two more games to add to the mix. You can see our working list HERE.


Currently In Limbo

Humanspace Empires
The Drune's mash-up of EPT and Mutant Future. Amazing Swords & Planet Adventures in a universe inspired by the work of Prof. M. A. R. Barker, only this time things take place prior to the disappearance of over 700 worlds into pocket universes. You can find our Index HERE. The Play-Test version of the rules remain available for download HERE.

Games We're Considering

There are a LOT of new and classic RPGs out there. More pop up all the time. this is where we will keep track of the games that sound interesting to us. With luck we'll get an opportunity to try some of these games out in the days and months ahead. Then we'll see where things go from there. 

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Games We're Currently Considering...

Ambition & Avarice
Created by Chubby Funster, the game designer responsible for Cascade Failure and several other games, supplements and resources, all of which are of the highest quality. This game is currently available as a softcover & PDF bundle for $12.42.
From the Description text at DriveThruRPG:

"The entire package is designed to allow quick character generation and presented in a format that is clear and easy to read. The text is packed with explanations of not just the rules, but the reasons behind the rules. It is an ideal choice to hand to a new player who is looking to get into the great game, but turned away by thick rulebooks with byzantine organization. The adventuring mechanics are also OSR compatible and allow easy integration with a variety of old school campaign material. You can pick up this game, grab an old module, and get playing in a very short amount of time."

Beyond the Wall
This is another OSR-compatible, rules-lite rules-set, but this time the game focuses more on the coming-of-age type tales of Lloyd Alexander & Ursula K. LeGuin. That alone makes it interesting to us, but the added feature of the Playbook approach to character creation is simply brilliant. The game itself is $7.99 for the PDF via DriveThruRPG, no word when/if it'll be available in soft/hard cover. They also offer a few supplements, playbooks, adventures--there's plenty of free stuff to get you started. We're thinking about how to do up a few Playbooks for creating characters in Wermspittle...

Blood & Treasure
Another OSR-compatible rules-set, this time from M. John Stater of The Land of Nod. The Complete Game comes in three flavors: E-Book $11.99, Softcover $22.99, Hard cover $35.99. You can also get the rules broken-out into a Player's guide and a Game Master's guide, both available in all three formats. There is an official adventure, errata, supplemental materials and a growing community backing this game. This game combines the features of BECMI and 1st Ed. AD&D with a healthy infusion of newfangled stuff like Feats taken from the 3.x SRD and various Open Gaming Content. It sounds like a total rewrite and revision of 1st Ed. AD&D, but modernized to an extent, and that makes it sound potentially quite cool. We'll see...

Cthulhu Dark
All the rules you need for sanity-blasting Lovecraftian Malpractice and Misbehavior on one page of paper. Genius. Sheer insane genius. We have to do something with this one of these days...

DCC RPG
Dungeon Crawl Classics RPG from Goodman Games. One of most impressive RPGs to hit the shelves and invade the table-tops in recent memory. They were kind enough to mention our old blog in the appendix, for which we're very thankful. The system is full of tons of crunch, especially in terms of the spells & magic. We own a copy, but we haven't had the opportunity to test-drive this game just yet. The icosohedral mapping they use is a very cool alternative to the more top-down approach most of us use. This game has gotten a lot of folks to reconsider some cherished notions and try some new, weird stuff out and that's awesome. It might be fun to convert some of our critters over to DCC RPG...

Diaspora
A wonderfully light, yet thoroughly engaging approach to Traveller-style Hard SF gaming using FATE as the foundation. this game comes in a deceptively small seeming booklet, but it really packs a wallop. There are some amazingly cool sub-systems in this book, like Social Combat, for example. That section alone could become an intriguing and unique game unto itself. The approach that this game uses, having the group develop the setting as part of the game itself, is also very cool. There's a lot of great resources, ideas and tools packed into this book. We're looking at adapting some of the Diaspora Toolset for fleshing out one of our settings in particular.

FATE
We backed the Kickstarter. We have the PDFs. Our hardcopy books are on the way. This is an interesting system. We're still reading through the system and trying things out. Our friend John over at FATE SF has been very helpful in getting us up to speed with this newfangled system. It's a very different approach, another way to think about things we've taken for granted for years now, so this is all fairly new and shiny to us still. Hopefully, we'll get an opportunity to play this game at Con of the North, if not sooner. We'll probably start monkeying around with some FATE stuff on the blog sooner rather than later, possibly converting monsters over to FATE and things like that...

Heroes & Other Worlds
This is Fenway's "Love Note to The Fantasy Trip," and it looks great. We have been looking over our copy of H&OW here at the Hereticlair and hopefully we'll get to run this game one of these weekends. we're still putting together some Metagaming-style Counters (Sword-wielding Octopi!) and some new Paper Minis just for this game. One of our S&W Appreciation Day Mini-Adventures was adapted to H&OW but we haven't seen it yet. It's in an issue of The Cauldron, the official fanzine supporting H&OW.

Monsterparts
Attribute-less D&D where your characters are no younger than 7 and no older than 14...this seems like it might be a perfect fit for Wermspittle-style adventures, especially around Spring, when the children are sent off to the dubious protection of the fortified town up on its bluff overlooking the cursed and tainted Low Lands. The game itself is extremely simple, yet feels very atmospheric. We may just get a chance to try it out before Halloween...

Monsters & Magic
A modern, narrative-meets-OSR hybrid rules-set that promises to let you unlock all your old modules in completely new ways. The License for this system hasn't been made available yet, so we've held off getting too involved. The system sounds interesting, but we already have FATE and numerous other systems that are already out in the Open Gaming ecology. We'll see...

Renaissance
This is a bit of a departure for us--a D100 system--but in this case the rules-set is very well written and ripe for all sorts of development and tinkering, which we find very appealing. This grew out of Runequest and Clockwork & Cthulhu, so it has an impressive lineage. It also features a wide-open magic system that could be fleshed-out with all sorts of weird grimoires and strange rites just like in Wermspittle. We're tempted...

Renegade
Another Rosetta-Stone-type OSR revision of the World's Oldest & Most Popular RPG. It's wide-open, nicely done and it's available as a 'Pay What You Want' product via DriveThruRPG. The entire rules-set has been rewritten from the ground-up to make it as suitable and accessible to new gamers, especially young kids, as is humanly possible. This might be a good game to use for running games for a younger crowd, like at Conventions, possibly...but we're still very happy with Labyrinth Lord and Swords & Wizardry...so this remains a very tentative, very tenuous 'maybe,' someday...

Savage Worlds
Savage Worlds is a fairly robust game engine, with tons of possibilities, especially for Pulp-Style role playing. It also seems to have more life in it than say True 20. Just sayin'. Now that we're actively looking into FATE, this game might have to wait some more...

Tunnels & Trolls
A new edition is on the way and the old ones still work just fine. T&T is extremely well-suited to solo-play. We still have a small stack of old Solitaire Dungeons here, and we've always wanted to draft-up a few of our own...so maybe, what with the new edition and all, we'll take a swing at doing a T&T Solo-thingy. Maybe.

WaRP
Wanton RPG, the engine behind Over The Edge, which always looked cool, but we never got to try-out. This stripped-down system is built for full-contact surrealism and subversive violence at the table-top. It's an Open Game License system, and Trey has been pretty enthusiastic about it, so we're seriously considering it for a very special project...

X-Plorers
Old School D&D In Space. This is a great, light-weight RPG for ray-guns and reprobates. Very Pulp-esque, and wide open for development and tinkering, this game is just begging to be played. Jay over at Exonauts is quite an inspiration for adapting this game and making it even cooler than it was to begin with. We really need to finish our Space Dungeon...

Out Here in the Fields: Autumn Encounters (Wermspittle)

Vintage Ectograph from the 1129 Farmer's Almanac and Crop Concordance

(Published 1128, Old Brenn, Kalfaz. Under Imperial License from the Court at Avrigonne. Removed from sale by order of the Ministry of Censorship and Collective Hygiene. All copies are required to be burned under provision of Imperial Order 27, as stipulated by the Under-Secretary for Conformity and Comity. This order is, of course, in abeyance within the Contested, Disputed and Withdrawn Provinces, and therefore does not apply within Wermspittle.)

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Autumn is a grim time in the Low Lands. Winter comes along much too fast to leave anything for the last minute and rare it is that any might get much sleep during the onset of Fall. Harvests must be brought in before the Killing Frosts, the hail or anything else can ruin things. Brewing begins in earnest, as does pickling, canning and every other form of putting up food for the long, dark winter. Hunters head out to the woods in heavily armed groups. The Lime Kilns are started. There is always much more work than there are hands to tend to it all. Bandits might be a nuisance, but they are a small matter compared to the horrific things that are coming with the long, cold nights when ice grips the land and the dead are not content to lie quietly in their graves. Any fool knows damned well that this is the time for all good men to lend a helping hand to one another, lest they all be overwhelmed before Spring.

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Twenty Encounters in Low-Land Fields (Autumn)

1. (3d6) Ractur are out on a raid of the local farmstead enclaves. So far they've lost six of their party. They've managed to 'steal' three gut-piles and a bucket of mushrooms someone left behind. They do not realize that a group of farm-kids are tracking them. Their mothers know several recipes for Ractur.
2. A large group of children, still too young to be sent off to Wermspittle but not big enough to help with the more demanding tasks, have been sent out to collect firewood and fungi. Each child moves across the fields and through the small copses of trees quietly, almost furtively. They all carry short bows or slings, and knives. They would welcome the opportunity to bring home some game they were able to take down while gathering their wood and mushrooms. Horses are considered a delicacy in these parts.
3. Twelve hunters, all over the age of thirty, each armed with stout forest bows, sturdy axes, hammers and clubs. They flushed out an Unseen Beast just a mile back and are tracking it. They will warn anyone they pass that the thing is wounded, but they will not waste day-light on strangers.
4. A rag-tag caravan of Refugees from one of the closer Franzikaner outposts is making its way towards Wermspittle. They bear the black and sickly yellow-green banners of pox and plague. No one willingly has any business with these people. Anyone spotted dealing with them will be shunned as a potential carrier.
5. A steaming furrow has been dug out from the fields, the track of some large cylindrical object that crashed here overnight. The cylinder is still incredibly hot. The three crew-members inside may be dead. Perhaps they were killed on impact. Perhaps.
6. A burned-out farm-house. In the cellar is a Weak Point anchored by a strange bit of sorcerous geometry that has been burned into the dirt floor, linking it to some hot, fetid and terribly red place from which a small group of (3d4) Grunters have crossed over. The weird geometry appears to be collapsing in upon itself and the forced anchoring of the Weak Point is only temporary, unless the Grunters can do anything about it. Who would do this sort of thing? Was it some sort of experiment? Where is the spell-caster?
7. (1d6) Bulbous violet and orange fungi sprout evilly from the ground. These are Crudiv spores. The milky liquid they exude is exceptionally toxic (-2 on Save), but they can be quite delicious if one knows how to prepare them. If left alone, they will spawn 1d4 Crudiv in the next hour or so. Note: normally, these spores are found underground. Someone has either maliciously or ignorantly transported the things here to an open field. If the colony takes root, it will begin to produce quite a few more Crudiv, making it a menace.
8. (4d4) Farmers are repairing fences and setting heavy, sharpened stakes into pits and ditches all along the perimeter of their enclave. A group of children wearing goggles and wet cloths over their faces are pouring buckets of freshly-burned lime into the ditches and pits.
9. Eleven children armed with bows, hand-axes and a few spears are following the tracks of a party of Ractur.
10. A well-to-do gentleman in the torn remnants of a classic smoking jacket, grass-stained white shirt, dirty trousers, partly ripped vest and rather beat up slippers stumbles past. He is armed with a crowbar and six matches. He is in something of a hurry and somehow slips away, as though he were never really there at all. A careful examination of the ground near where he was spotted will reveal a brass lever with an ivory handle.
11. (2d4) Sickly and mangy Almas driven down from their mountains by raiders who have burned their yurts and killed their elders. They are lost and wandering along the edges of settled areas looking for shelter. They have three times as many children with them as there are adults. Most of them are orphans. All of them are sick, hungry and growing increasingly desperate as the reality of their situation starts to hit home. The adults are poorly armed, mostly some make-shift clubs, a few tools, and a hunting bow or two. None of them has any armor, several are naked. The raiders took everything.
12. (1d4) Violetics, recently escaped from a slaver they killed in a mutiny. They know nothing about this area, speak only a peculiar dialect of Zurian and are woefully unprepared for the cold weather. But they do still have their chains which they expect to use to defend themselves.
13. Six merchants are trying to get their wagon unstuck from a very muddy rut in the so-called road. They are on their way out from Wermspittle to Old Brenn, if they can avoid the bandits and beat the first frost. One of the merchants is a host for Gore Worms and another is a rogue simulacrum of the Provincial Mayor, traveling incognito. The wagon is profoundly stuck and all the merchants have managed to do is get it stuck worse, fight amongst themselves, and dismiss their guards in a fit of foolishness. They are about to come to blows, if something doesn't happen, or someone intervenes. The wagon is loaded down with burlap-bound rolls of Yellow Wallpaper, three casks of Black Liquor, two hundred pounds of Hard Candy in plain white 3 ounce packets (stacked inside a set of nondescript cardboard boxes), and the larval form of an Ungezeifer packed carefully in another cask.
14. Sixteen desperate men in Rahzik black half-cuirasses and scale-sewn leather long coats, each one wounded and filthy, ride along with heads hung low. The horses are nearly spent. They were cut off from their unit and have been wandering aimlessly for the last four days and nights. They've been trying to live off of the land, but the farm enclaves are too well defended and the hunters far too accurate with their bows and slings. 
15. (3d6) Gleaners and Sharecroppers are making a last check of some of the outlying fields. They have three carts, laden with root vegetables and bundles of other crops that they've been able to collect after the 'real' harvest. These hardworking folk are the ones who do not own houses themselves. They are barely tolerated back in the enclave, but the food they bring back is very welcome.
16. A random swarm: Consult the Swarm Table. Or perhaps it is a migrating group of black-banded head-taker beetles headed south for the winter.
17. Three feral children. Each is armed with 2d4 random knives and assorted cutlery. One wears loose-fitting leather armor stuffed with old newspapers to get it to almost fit. They are carrying a bundled-up looking glass that some sorcerer used to trap a Zahj. They expect to get a rich reward for this thing from the Franzikaners or the Geremondry. Basically, they'll sell it to whomever makes them an offer they feel is good enough. Two of them have minor deformities, so they intend to return to Wermspittle to hire a surgeon to fix them. The third member of their group has no particular interest in going back.
18. Back behind a copse of twisted trees is a Weak Point that opens into a vast field of churned-up gray mud under a ponderously dark and stormy sky. Cold water trickles out from the Weak Point, forming a muddy patch immediately surrounding it. Visibility is very poor on the other side, however there may be mountains quite a ways off in the distant North, assuming that is indeed the correct direction. It may be a Dead World. Or not. Want to find out?
19. A large group of adolescent workers are hauling blocks of limestone back to be burned into lime at the kilns that their grandfathers have just gotten going again. Each of these young men are deformed in some fashion, sterile and marked by their having lingered too long in the Low Lands. Few of them will live past this winter and they know it.
20. A pair of Barrow-Men lie dead along the side of the road. Each one has been shot in the back of the head with Dead Lead Shot. One of the corpses still clutches a small pouch or well-tanned Horla-hide that is invisible, as is whatever it contains. In this case it is a crumpled-up map showing what appears to be a barbershop along a twisty Low Street in Wermspittle. Whatever notes were scrawled on the thing are illegible, the graphite smeared and wiped off from rough handling. A careful examination gives the impression that the location this map is for might be somewhere near the White Sphinx.

Bujilli: Episode 65

Previously...
Bujilli has entered the abandoned monastery with his conniving Uncle immobilized and under the effects of a Sleep spell. There has been a massacre at the monastery. It looks like there was a siege of sorts as well. someone has built a massive fire towards the back of the central courtyard area. Bujilli has barred the main entrance behind him. now he has to decide how to proceed...

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Poll Results: Option 3 wins.
Cast 'Listen to Walls' to find out what happened, where any hostile entities might be lurking, and where might be the best spot to set up an ambush for his father.

Crash! The logs in the huge bonfire shifted. Settled. Sparks fluttered up into the encroaching gloom.

The walls reeked of centuries and wood smoke, Yeren blood and bowel contents. The central courtyard was a mess. Bodies strewn everywhere. Dozens of dead Yeren. No one else.

Bujilli closed his eyes. Consulted his Counsel. It revealed three Yeren. Up on the mezzanine. To the left of the fire. It could detect nothing else. Something blocked it. The Monastery was still warded, in places. The entire lower section was sealed off to extra sensory perception. The Antazzic Order, the heretical sect of monks from the South who'd built the place, were very serious about their privacy. those who trafficked in demonology and worse had good reason to block prying eyes.

His Uncle still slept soundly. Bujilli re-checked his bonds. Re-examined the spell. Reassured himself that his Uncle was not faking. He considered rifling the old bastard's belt pouch. Thought better of it. He'd nearly lost two fingers when he'd tried that as a child. Not worth it.

Tulwar in one hand, his hand-axe in the other, Bujilli closed his eyes and cast Listen to the Walls.

"You!" Hissed the right wall.

"Again?" Whispered the left wall.

"What do you want?" Demanded the wall before him. It's voice shook the burning logs leaning against it. One rolled down off of the collapsing mound. It smoldered on the cobbles less than three feet from Bujilli. He didn't flinch. He did open his eyes and kept watch on the railing by where he calculated the surviving Yeren were huddled. They could feel his spell. They could smell him. Even through the smoke. How long until they stirred, until they came after him? He was ready.

"The moon is rising. I don't know what phase it is in--"

"The Moon will be two nights away from Full this evening."

"That will have to suffice. What happened here?"

"Many things best not discussed outside of the Order."

"No. I mean recently. Who built this fire? who killed all these Yeren?"

"The beasts brought in the wood and set fire to it in hopes of smoking-out whomever they believed was hiding in the Southern Cloister and the Moon Pool. These were killed by the Guardians. As is only right."

The Guardians. Unsleeping, Unliving things. He remembered them all too well.

"Where are the guardians now?"

"Destroyed. They were ultimately overwhelmed by the beasts you call Yeren. There are no Guardians left in this place any longer...unless you would--"

"I am not here to take up service to the Order." How many times he'd had to utter those words on moonlit nights...it felt strange that the old ghost wasn't there to talk with him any more. Bujilli never had many friends growing up. The grandmaster's ghost might not have been exactly what anyone would call a friend, but he had become sort of fond of the wizened old shade. They had an arrangement. An understanding. It had been enough. For both of them.

"Then what business do you have in such a desolate place? Cannot you leave us to collapse into ruins in peace now that all our Order is dead and we stand defenseless before the beasts of this world?"

"How many Yeren survived?" He wanted to test his Counsel against the testimony of the walls, or perhaps it was the other way around?

"Few. Three linger still in this place. Several fled. They seemed to lose interest. Perhaps their orders were too vague."

Just as Counsel had told him. It was good to get independent verification. Still no sign of the Yeren. Maybe the other two were more seriously wounded than he'd suspected. Or they were being exceptionally cautious. Having seen the Guardians of this place dismember dozens of their fellows might have taught them a lesson in circumspection. but he doubted it.

"Orders?" He scratched his chin with the back of his left hand. He didn't much like the sound of that.

"Yes. The Yeren were of no less than three packs, each led by one who bore the mark of Lyhydriss, a sorcerer of the Western Fjords."

Lyhydriss. The very name he had come here to utter as part of a summons. His father's name.

"You remember who I am?"

"Yes. You are no longer a cub. You have grown strong. The Order would have welcomed you--"

"The Grandmaster did welcome me. Do you remember?"

"Yes. We are broken, bereft and mired in despair. We are not stupid. You are welcome here Bujilli."

"Good. May I have permission to visit the Lower Levels?"

"We see no reason to deny you entry. Not any longer. Do as you would. We shall not hinder you."

"Thank you--"

"Best not thank us quite so quickly. You would not be going down there unless it were for a definite reason. especially in your case. You know some of what is down there."

"Can you tell me more about what is down there?"

"It is forbidden. Hence the wardings. Were you to seek entry into the Order..."

"No. Thank you. that is not why I came here tonight."

"As you will."

The spell faded. Perhaps the walls had said all they intended to say.

It would have to be enough.

The Yeren made their move. Frothing with fear and covered in gore. One died as it ran at him, its guts splattered out across its legs and tripping it. The other two weren't much better off. The first one to reach him received a slash across it's snout from the tulwar. He took its partner in the belly with his hand-axe. He let go of the axe. Spun. Lopped off its head. Blocked the axe of the remaining Yeren. The tulwar jerked as it struck the Yeren's vertebrae. They lay dead on the cobbles in three quick breaths. Bujilli retrieved his hand-axe. Then he headed towards the stairs down to the Lower Levels.

Three flights down. He cast Gloomlight.

The heavy bronze valves of the entrance stood closed before him. He examined the raised hieroglyphics cast directly into the frame. If he still had the black seal that the Grandmaster's ghost had led him to, it might fit into one of the round niches along the circumference of the frame. But his Uncle had confiscated the seal. Long, long ago. The old bastard had probably sold it to some wretched bone-carver or more likely he bartered it for more worthless old journals or sketchbooks. his Uncle liked to look at the pictures. Especially the dirty ones.

Bujilli cast Knock.

Nothing.

He cast it again.

Nothing.

Sacrificing another, better spell, he cast Knock a third time.

The bronze valve twisted open slowly. Grudgingly.

Bujilli entered.

The valve twisted closed behind him.

He'd be here until he could cast Knock again.

Fine.

The walls were rough stone. The ceiling a smooth black mirror surface. The floor was three inches deep in chalky, off-white sand. Featureless. Perfectly level. It seemed almost a shame to disturb it.

He didn't come here to admire the sand.

The chamber he was interested in lay approximately seven hundred paces ahead. Past another bronze portal. this one was wide open. Until he went through it. then it twisted shut behind him.

Bujilli walked to the center of the chamber. This was far easier said than done. The walls and floor and ceiling swirled and shimmered, coiled and fluctuated all around him. Each step he took carried him out into the heart of a sphere of writhing, rippling stuff. It reminded him of a seashore, rolled back upon itself to form an inside-out bubble. Or not. He knew better than to try to hang words on something he was woefully ill-equipped to describe accurately. This was a summoning chamber. One that the monks of the Antazzic Order had used for centuries in their explorations of the realms beyond mortal ken.

"So you've returned my young friend."

Bujilli started. The old ghost was there. The Grandmaster.

"You haven't changed a bit." Bujilli lied. The ghost was much more translucent than it ever had been before. It's extremities faded into obscurity as though eroded away by the relentless crashing waves of time.

"Alas if only that were true. What grim purpose brings you back to this place?"

"You once said that I was welcome here--"

"Due to your service to our Order. Yes. Even now. such as it is, the Order stands in your debt. How might we serve you in order to discharge our debt?"

"I wish to summon forth my father."

"He is no demon..."

"No. Much worse; he's a man."

"And you would bring him forth unto this place for some sort of reunion...or is it a reckoning you are after?"

"That may depend upon what his plans are. How he responds to my summoning him."

"He wields power, else you wouldn't be here. He poses a threat to you, else you would to be about to take such a drastic action. He has left you with no alternative, no other way to contact him?"

"No." Bujilli looked down at the floor. He never knew his father. He didn't even know what the bastard looked like.

"And you have come here to do this thing. Why?"

"My father is the one known as Lyhydriss." The name curled off of his tongue in a serpentine manner.

"The despoiler who sent the beasts into our monastery to pollute it with their blood and foullness?"

"Yes."

"I shall allow this. It is a fit and proper thing for us to assist you in this matter. But it shall be we who summon your father to this place. You will do well enough to confront him. Prepare yourself. When you are ready, we shall bring him here."

Bujilli nodded.

He considered his spells. What he could still reasonably cast right now. Confusion and Haste. Shield or Julidi's Darts*. Those seemed like the best options. Dispel Magic might come in handy, but he didn't want to get caught-up in a feed-back loop, or a contest of counter-spelling. He didn't know what to expect from his father. All he knew was that Lyhydris was dangerous. A sorcerer. A man devoted to cultivating knowledge and power. Not someone to trifle with by any means.

Bujili swung his tulwar back and forth. Shifted his grip. Hefted his hand-axe. Adjusted his posture, his stance.

As ready as he ever would be, he nodded to the ghost.

The chamber went silent. Bujilli couldn't hear his own breathing.

Light streamed out from along the edges of a circle with Bujilli at the center. Symbols sculpted from primal energies cascaded back into alignment with this plane of existence. Some shifted position. Others spun along various axes. The ghost reached out to Bujilli.

"Your bond is one of blood, is it not?"

"Yes."

"You know the price of this thing then."

Bujilli nodded. Stretched out his left arm. Dragged the tulwar's edge across it. The blade moaned disconcertingly. He nearly dropped the blade. It had never done such a thing ever before.

Blood seeped from the shallow wound.

The ghost reached forth and gathered what it needed.

With a gesture the Grandmaster cast the blood out across the Circle. It flashed like liquid fire. Settled down around and between the various glowing symbols and secondary figures slowly rotating around the Circle.

Another gesture and a second geometrical form spun into view at one of the cardinal points of the Circle Bujilli was standing within. At first it was a Triangle. A Square. Pentagon. Hexagon. It cycled through the series of different shapes one after another.

The ghost reached forth and took more blood from Bujilli. This time he flung it into the center of the fluctuating shape before them. The blood crackled like grease in a frying pan. It infused the shimmering, simmering light of the smaller Circle. There were other figures within the second Circle, but they were all formed of blood and shadow. Bujilli couldn't quiet make out what the series of shapes inside the other Circle were. He had to trust to the grandmaster's judgment in this matter. Having freely given his blood to a ghost. His Uncle would have beaten him within an inch of his life when he was a child for doing something so patently stupid. But this time, it was what needed to be done. The price required.

"Make the Call, my young friend."

"LYHYDRIS!" Bujilli's voice thundered through the chamber and beyond.

His father heard him.
Heard him and answered the summons...

---

*Julidi's Darts is a variant form of Magic Missile.

Roll 1d6 for initiative. (Labyrinth Lord, p. 50)

You Decide what Bujilli does next:

Feel free to make suggestions or to ask questions in the Comments section.
Thanks for reading Bujilli's Adventure!

What should Bujilli do next?

Speak with his Father first.Cast Confusion on his father, then attack.Cast Haste on himself, then attack.Cast Shield, then try to talk to his father.Cast Shield, then attack with Julidi's Darts.Something Else--explain in the Comments Section below.

pollcode.com free polls

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Previous                                                  Next

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Series Indexes

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

---

Starting Page  |  Central Index

---

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

---

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

Fine Young Cannibals (20 Morlock NPCs)

When the airships bombed the Southbound railway, things got tough for the Morlock engineers. Then the bridge over the Suryava River was bombed by anarchists and the three competing railroad companies withdrew from Wermspittle. The Morlocks and their families were left behind. Abandoned just like the mangled and twisted rails and the gutted station houses. Their grandparents' dreams of building shining empires of electricity and steel through the dark woods and stark mountains died. Some joined forces with the Deep Engineers of the Sewer Militia, others set off to follow the Unterrails to Aman Utal to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Those that remained have had to adapt to a new way of life...

---

Twenty Morlock NPCs

1. Xugra Malkive [AL C, MV 120' (40'), AC 7 (+1 mucoid leather), HD2, #AT 1, DG 1d6+1 (serated gladius), SV F1, ML 9] Hateful, spiteful, and cruel, Xugra does not work well with others, nor does he share loot, meat or credit with anyone else. He served briefly as a caravan guard during the darkest part of last winter, but that went badly. He lost half a finger and gained several scars fending off some desperate bandits who blundered across his employer's group by accident in the middle of a snowstorm. He hates snow. If he gets enough money put together Xugra plans to go get himself trained as a torturer's apprentice. He collects disreputable medical devices and other questionable mechanisms for potential use on future clients.
2. Malisse [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 5 (barbed chainmail), HD 4, #AT 1, DG 2d4+2 (bastard sword + 17 STR), SV F4, ML 10] Malisse prefers to let her sword do the talking. It is an ancient weapon capable of speaking six languages, not all of which are dead or forgotten. The blade does double damage against bronze armor. It appears to be grown from some peculiarly lurid form of pink-orange salt or crystal. On a natural 20 the blade causes the victims flesh to shrivel into the consistency of jerky, inflicting triple damage.
3. Grud Magru [AL C, MV 120' (40'), AC 6 (Wermscale Mail), HD 3, #AT 1, DG 1d6 (double-tapper snap-hammer), SV F3, ML 7] Grud had been badly mauled by a pack of Slashers. He nearly bled out before he was rescued by a group of refugees from Bandigar. He owes them a blood-debt.
4. Neeva [AL N, MV 120'(40'), AC 6 (Urozt Lamellar), HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d6+2 (Mace +17 STR), SV C2, ML 10] Neeva was kicked out of her adoptive mother's home for eating the cat. She was in training to become a Midwife. Now she isn't sure what to do with herself, though she does seem to have some knack for learning spells, if she could only find a teacher willing to take her on...
5. Tagga Kilb [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 5 (squarescale), HD 5, #AT 2, DG 1d6/1d4 (hand-axe & dagger), SV F5, ML 6] Cowardly and cursed, Tagga mutilated his own ears in order to stop the terrible pain brought on by his hyper-sensitivity. Unfortunately, even though he is now deaf, his sensitivity to vibrations remains painfully acute. He has a 80% chance of going berserk around bells, even when they remain unrung. Just the sight of the things is enough to set him off.
6. Ruj Kilb [AL C, MV 100' (30'), AC 8 (coarse robes), HD 3, #AT 1, DG 1d4+acid (glass dagger), SV M3, ML 4, Spells: 2,1; Level One: Magic Missile, Shield, Sleep Level Two: ESP, Kazwen's Reflections, Knock] Tagga's little brother and an even worse coward. Neither brother will talk about it willingly, but somehow it is Ruj's fault for his brother's curse, just as it is Tagga's fault that Ruj is now slightly lame due to having had his legs broken and then inexpertly repaired.
7. Hothry [AL N, MV 120'(40'), AC 4 (banded mail), HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d6+3 (bad-hammer +18 STR), SV F2, ML 10] Hothry finished his third year as a blacksmith's apprentice before things went from bad to worse. He ate his mentor to survive a particularly bad winter in one of the low land enclaves. All his teeth have been replaced with yellow metal spikes (bite does 1d4+3).
8. Galdje [AL C, MV 90' (30'), AC 7 (tatters), HD 1, #AT 1, DG 1d4 (scratch knife), SV F1, ML 3] Mad, drooling and given to random outbursts, Galdje serves as a guard to anyone who'll pay him in fingernails.
9. Ruvva Nal [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 3 (corroded grave mail), HD 4, #AT 1, DG 1d6 (four-spike), SV F4, ML 6] Blind in one eye, Ruvva was raised as a grave-robber until his entire clan was wiped out by a mummified abhuman sorcerer one of his kin awakened in a drunken act of self-destructive hubris. Ruvva tries to avoid dead places these days, as best he can, but being down on his luck, he'll go where he's paid to go. He believes that his great-grandfather was an Engineer, but he has no proof and no way to find out more about that at present. Not without some help.
10. Jalig [AL N, MV 120', (40'), AC 6 (bruthem leather), HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d4x2 (short bow & wire-head arrows or twin daggers), SV F2, ML 10] Amoral opportunist and kleptomaniac. Jalig drinks only blood (he is superstitious and thinks it makes him lucky as well as virile). For some reason he wishes not to discuss, Jalig fears the color green and avoids it if at all possible.
11. Sashmu Yorra [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 7 (knuckle bone-studded leather), HD 4, #AT 1, DG 1d6 (short sword), SV M2, ML 8, spells: 2,1, Level One: Ventriloquism, Hold Portal, Floating Disk, Voorish Sign Level Two: Detect Invisibility, Levitate] A former pit-fighter turned sorcerer, Sashmu has begun a new life for himself and doesn't want to remember what he used to do back in the pits. He is obsessed with capturing a Horla. He has worked out a scheme whereby he thinks that he ought to be able to make a Horla kit into a familiar, or so he intends to find out.
12. Yodt [AL C, MV 120' (40'), AC 6 (riveted leather), HD 3, #AT 3, DG 1d4/1d4/1d4+2 (claw/claw/bite), SV F3, ML Special: Immune to all morale effects] Sullen, surly and filthy, Yodt growls and grumbles, rarely uttering a coherent word. His hair is long, dirty and matted. His skin has a greenish cast to it. His eyes are dark with an oily, unnatural sheen and his body is unnaturally emaciated, the limbs disproportionately elongated in a disturbing, almost arachnid manner. Each of his fingers ends in a gleaming hooked steel claw rudely bonded to the bone during some weird ritual he went through in his childhood. He works as a guard or a fighter, killer or bandit, so long as he is paid in jewels or exotic fabrics. They say Yodt maintains a place out in the Burned Over District, some attic he's converted into a nest or lair where he goes on Bajji binges whenever he's flush with cash.
13. Kraux [AL C, MV 120' (40'), AC 3 (transparent plate), HD 5, #AT 2, DG 3d4/1d6/1d6 (4-barrel attic-gonne, short sword, hand-axe), SV F5, ML 11] Ambitious and cautious, Kraux sees himself becoming a Baron one of these days. He literally keeps a list of enemies and friends in his belt pouch. His mother rode with a notorious band of forest brigands, his grandfather hijacked an airship and was never seen again. No one speaks about his father. No one knows why. Kraux intends to make his mark in Wermspittle, one way or another.
14. Lujia [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 6 (patched leather), HD 2, #AT 1, DG 1d6/1d4 (hammer or dagger), SV T2, ML 9] Lujia is a Forager working under indenturement to Cazwell, a Powder-monger who has staked a claim over a three block section along Pym Street. She recently discovered a Weak Point in an abandoned Property, but only barely escaped from a particularly nasty Wet Spot. She does not want to tell her master about her discovery, but she also doesn't have the means to properly go explore what might be on the other side of the Weak Point, not on her own. Perhaps she can find some backers or possibly a partner or two...
15. Bosk Dalt [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 6 (embroidered heavy wool longcoat), HD 3, #AT 2, DG 1d4+3/1d6+3 (scalpel and bone saw), SV C3, ML 8] Disgraced and disbarred, Bosk has been drummed-out of the Medical College for undisclosed transgressions. He is banned from practicing medicine legally, but dabbles in a bit of quackery every now and then. His plan is to accumulate a collection of samples suitable to gain the interest of the Curator of Curiosities or another such luminary, and use his guile and whatever inducements he can bring to bear to get readmitted as a Surgeon-in-training.
16. Tangree [AL C, MV 120' (40'), AC 7 (rags), HD 3, #AT 1, DG 1d4 (bodkin), SV M3, ML 4] Hungry, cold and emotionless, Tangree is dreamscarred from an encounter with a Gloomswallow. She was once considered almost pretty, in a disturbing sort of way. These days she takes no effort in maintaining her appearance, letting her hair get tangled and filthy. Her breath reeks horribly, possibly from a rotted tooth. She has trouble remembering any of her spells except Oneiric Bubble while awake and is prone to fits of somnabulism.
17. Brodin [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 4 (looplink mail), HD 4, #AT 1, DG 1d8 (battle axe), SV F4, ML 10] Masked, gloved, and cloaked, Brodin rarely speaks. He serves anyone who'll meet his price of one pound of flesh per day. It needn't be their own flesh; he's not a purist or fanatic or anything like that.
18. Jadz Belik [AL C, MV 120' (40'), AC 6 (boiled chitin), HD 3, #AT 1, DG 1d6 (scimitar), SV F3, ML 8 (3 around invisible things)] Jadz lost his left arm to an Unseen Beast that he encountered below the Second Cistern, where someone had tethered the thing up like a guard beast. Jadz has returned to the place six or seven times now. He wants to kill the creature, but so far nothing he's tried has worked. He's contemplating what sort of poisons might work best.
19. Luo Koftra [AL C, MV 120' (40'), AC 8 (loincloth), HD 4, #AT 1, DG 1d4/1d6 (fist/seed-pod sword), SV M4, ML 10, Immune to Fear Effects, Spells: 2,2 Level One: Charnel Breath, Charm Person, Obscure Magic, Hold Portal, Darkness, Sleep Level Two: Arcane Lock, Knock, Locate Object, Web] Luo is unhinged, even for a morlock. He whispers obscenities under his breath almost constantly and has taken an intense interest in personal scarification which he sees as a way to imprint sorcerous knowledge directly into his flesh. It is unclear whether Luo is actually possessed, pretending to be, or if he's just deranged...possibly a combination of all three.
20. Haldim [AL N, MV 120' (40'), AC 5 (sharpscale), HD 3, #AT 1, DG 1d6+2 (hammer + 16 STR), SV F3, ML 9] Formerly of the Cellar Inspectors, Haldim was dismissed for taking kick-backs. Normally this wouldn't have been much of a problem, however, one of the locations he passed-over in return for a bribe was infested by a huge Type IV Gobbling Grout that broke loose and caused extensive property damage during the Spring Revels. He spent his ill-gotten funds on a decent bit of armor and a fancy volley-gun. He still has the armor, but the volley-gun was lost in his all-too-narrow escape from a Yelg Froth. Haldim hasn't been able to stomach anything fermented ever since. If he had the money, or thought he could convince some suitably gullible adventurers into it, he'd like to recover his volley-gun.

Bujilli: Episode 64

Previously...
Enough is enough. Bujilli was summoned away from the Academy in Wermspittle to play his part in another foul scheme of this conniving Uncle. It took some doing, but Bujilli finally got something approximating the truth from his Uncle. He was called back to this place, the mountain pass where he'd grown up. The place he thought that he'd escaped years ago. His Uncle wanted him to kill his father. The human sorcerer who'd murdered Bujilli's mother. Having grown up more than a little conflicted and confused about his parentage, heritage and so forth, Bujilli faced a difficult, complicated decision. First he knocked his Uncle unconscious. Put him under a Sleep spell. Rigged-up a travois. Then headed out, away from the Cave of the Centipedes, which his Uncle had picked for a place of his own choosing. The Monastery of the Antazzic Order. It may be burning, perhaps even under the control of the Yeren, but Bujilli knew something about that place that his Uncle didn't. With luck, his Father was just as ignorant in this matter...

As desperate gambles went...it wasn't the worst risk he'd ever taken...necessarily...

Whiteness glared. Snow kept falling. It was wet, heavy. It also was filling-in his tracks. Even with the bundle of soft pine branches tied behind the travois. That was a good trick. One he'd learned from a fur trapper he'd met in his travels, in another mountain range, on the other side of this world.

Bujilli had the distinct feeling that he was being followed. Probably more Yeren. Out from the woods. Prowling for meat. He knew how they tended to hunt. Knew very well. He used to hunt them. Long ago. When he was younger. Angrier.

He was cold now. Not just from the snow.

His Uncle was like a poisonous tumor. A source of disquiet and turmoil. Always lying. Constantly scheming. Forever placing Bujilli at risk, thrusting him into harm's way, only to satisfy his opaque machinations and crass greed. But the old Almas had been the only family Bujilli had really ever had. His mother, an Almas, one of the not quite humans who dwelt in the high mountains, was killed before he'd got all his first set of teeth. His father...some mysterious human sorcerer from the Low Lands. He didn't know much about his father. Other than it was his father who'd murdered his mother. Or at least that was the story he'd grown up with. The story his Uncle had told him frequently and often.

Bujilli slipped on some ice. Dropped to his knee. Jarring. He looked around. The snow obscured practically everything. He was lucky if he could see ten feet away before the stuff swirled up and hid everything. Perfect Yeren weather.

Crunch.

Bujilli smirked. He would almost have been disappointed if someone, something had not been following him. No scent came to him on the wind. He wasn't sure who, or what, might be out there, but for now they seemed to be keeping their distance. Some caltrops would have been handy. Scattered behind him, anyone following his trail too closely would regret it. But alas, he hadn't brought any along with him. He considered a spell. No sense in wasting time. He grabbed hold of the travois poles and got going again.

The way down the trail from here was slippery. He nearly lost control of the travois twice. Almost dropped his Uncle's sleeping form into a deep ravine. Almost.

He stopped. Smoke. He could smell it whenever the wind shifted. They were close now.

Closer than he'd thought. The wall loomed before him, close enough to reach out and touch. He did. Now all he needed to do was follow it around to the entrance.

crunch.

Bujilli closed his eyes. Whatever was out there was keeping its distance. Biding its time. Not like a Yeren. They had exceptionally poor impulse control. No attention spans. They just prowled and ran after anything they scared forth, or went looking for likely hiding places from which to drive potential prey. Opportunists. They only rigged-up ambushes down in the dark woods where they lurked. Dead-falls. Pits. Snares. In the woods, Yeren were clever and cruel, away from their chosen ground they were clumsy, less confident.

He jerked the travois back into motion. Headed to the entrance. He hoped his choice of terrain would work to his favor. He knew he'd need any edge he could get. Whatever else might be true, his father was a sorcerer. A person of power. And his Uncle feared him. Wanted him dead, at Bujilli's hand.

His father was largely an unknown to him, but what his Uncle had told him made it clear that whatever his own feelings in the matter, his father very likely saw Bujilli as some sort of threat to his personal safety. After all, his Uncle had summoned him back from Wermspittle, ostensibly to kill his father. That alone made it clear that Bujilli could be used to harm is father. Like a tool. A weapon.

Bujilli spat in disgust. He remembered the sword he'd encountered beneath Zormur's Palace*. The wickedly jewelled and ensorcelled blade that contained a restless spirit that had tried to tempt him into becoming its wielder, its slave. That blade had a will of its own. It served its own agenda. If that cursed thing could claim its own fate and strive towards its own goals, how could he settle for anything less?

The left door was wide open, but the right remained steadfastly in place. Even a pack of Yeren couldn't take those ponderous doors off of their hinges.

He pulled the travois onto the cobbles of the paved area leading into the Monastery and set it down. The walls were intact. As far as he could see. The snow was thinning out. It was getting too cold for the snow. But the clouds still loomed all curdled and tormented overhead.

The scent of smoke was strong now. Pine smoke. Sooty and resinous. There were twigs, branches and needles scattered everywhere around the doors. As though loads of rough-cut wood were dragged into the place.

He drew his hand-axe. Padded softly to the doors. Listened. Then entered.

Someone had piled-up a great mass of logs and brush wood toward the back of the central open space of the Monastery. It still blazed. Sparks drifted on the swirling wind. Smoke billowed upwards. The wall behind it was blackened. Every shutter, every door was hacked to bits and splinters. Blood and filth was splattered across the walls, the columns, the railings. Dead Yeren littered the cobbles. The heat from the fire keeping them free from most of the snow.

A siege. Of sorts. As he had suspected.

He went back and dragged his Uncle in past the big doors. He examined the heavy chains that worked them. Everything was in order. He closed the doors. Dropped the bar.

The snow had stopped falling.

Whomever had been following him was locked outside.

Now he had to decide whether to hunt down whatever Yeren remained in this place...or set his ambush into motion while he still had a slight advantage in terms of timing.

At least he hoped he still had some sort of lead on his father.

But time was running out. Either he secured the area, or he took his chances. Either way, any Yeren left in the place would sense his sorcery and come to investigate...

...and if he hesitated much longer, his father might summon him, just as his uncle had...

---

*See Series One.

Bujilli has to choose between prudence or pre-emptiveness.
Does he clear the area in order to secure his position before attempting a sorcerous confrontation with his father?
Or does he move now, before his father can act, and seize the advantage before it is too late?

You Decide!

---

Previous                                                      Next

---

Series Indexes

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

---

Starting Page  |  Central Index

---

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

---

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

Bujilli: Episode 63

Previously...
Bujilli defeated a group of prowling Yeren. Now their heads line the entrance-way to the Cavern of the Centipedes. A warning and a ward against their kind. The only one that really works. Victorious over the enemies of his wayward adolescence, Bujilli finally gets an answer from his Uncle as to why the disreputable old sorcerer summoned him back to this place. His Uncle wants Bujilli's help. He wants to kill Bujilli's father. Before he kills both of them...

Ponderous iron-gray clouds curdled into immense, dark clots overhead. Brooding things. Truculent and treacherous. The snow storm outside was getting worse. But at least the wind seemed to be dying down. The trees groaned and creaked under the heavy, wet whiteness. It was definitely Yeren weather. Bujilli spat in disgust. He'd spent several winters of his youth fighting the Yeren. It had made his reputation, once he was too big to go dangling down into the dark spaces below to loot old graves, tombs and crypts. He had earned his keep by bringing home Yeren heads in the winter. He'd gotten good at it. Too good. The Yeren weren't fools. They came to know him, to recognize him. They had a talent for smelling or sensing sorcery. They were innately capable to disrupting or countering spells, unless you caught them off-guard or by surprise. You could often catch one with an under-handed spell, like Julidi's Darts, but you wouldn't often get a second such chance. Once was usually enough.

Bujilli watched the snow falling. It was coming down heavier than before. Visibility was severely limited. He could barely make out the black pines less than a bow-shot away. He knew that the Yeren would most likely sense him, or rather the spells he carried. They certainly sniff out his Uncle. He might have the stink of magick on him, his Uncle fairly reeked of it. He knew of no spell to obscure the Yeren's senses, not that would help them.

He considered going back to Wermspittle. It was possible. He'd consulted with his Counsel, aided and abetted with unwelcome asides and observations from his Uncle. He could open the way back...but that would still leave him vulnerable to his father's summons.

His father.

Bujilli spat again.

Yanked away from his partner and mentor, away from a place he was starting to feel like he belonged, here he was, back in the Cavern of the Centipedes. Back where it all started. Back with his Uncle. At least Ahtriska would never bother him again. One demon laid to rest. One less burden to carry. One more scar healed-over.

"You called me back to this place to deal with my father. You claim that he intends me harm. After all these years. Why?"

"Think boy. Think! He's a sorcerer. You carry his blood in your veins. A measure of it, in any case. Enough to forge a link, to reach him through you. All sorcerers have enemies. His enemies could use you to attack him. That makes you a direct threat to him."

"But why wait for so long? Why didn't he kill me while I was still an infant? Why now?" Bujilli stared hard at his Uncle. It didn't add-up right. But everything was starting to take on a shape he could just about wrap his mind around. He didn't much like what he was starting to suspect.

"Perhaps..."

"Out with it old man. I want to know. Now."

"You see...well...ahem...your mother..."

"What about her?"

"You do know that she herself was a sorceress--"

"No. I did not know that. Nor much of anything else. Thanks to you." Bitterness steamed off of his words. Resentment curled his lips into a sneer. Bujilli tasted hatred just behind his teeth. It was a bitter thing.

"Be that as it may, she was a spell-caster in her own right. A great talent. That was what drew your father to her."

"I thought he had a thing for hairy females." Bujilli had grown up thinking his father had appalling taste in mates. It didn't help his self esteem any, but it allowed him to laugh sometimes.

"That too, I suppose. Almas don't often inter-marry with the other kinds. We're capable, obviously, but it isn't something our people tend to accept..."

"You're telling me?"

"Yes. You know all too well what I'm saying. Your parents marriage was not well-received by your mother's kin, nor by your father's. In fact, I was the only one who witnessed their betrothal."

"You? Why you?"

"I arranged it."

"You. Arranged. My Mother's marriage. To this...human sorcerer?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"What does any sorcerer want?"

"Power and knowledge." Bujilli nodded. The two real treasures, the only two things his Uncle valued. He'd grown up learning all about such matters, from the old grimoires he'd slipped from his Uncle's stockpile, from Ahtrishka's sultry whispers of secret spells and forbidden secrets, from his Uncle's dealings. All the while, all through his childhood and beyond he knew that his Uncle was a fool. Neither power nor knowledge meant a damn if one was not free to use them as they wished. Freedom was more precious than anything, but it took power and knowledge to gain freedom, to claim it and to retain it.

"Exactly." His Uncle tilted his head. Perhaps the old bastard was peering into his thoughts? He could do that sometimes. Bujilli made a quick, furtive gesture, a mnemonic technique for clouding his thoughts. An old trick that had saved him from more than a few beatings growing up.

"And did it get you all that you wanted?" Bujilli sneered. His utter disrespect shining forth like a basilisk's baleful gaze.

"It brought me you."

Bujilli stood there. Stunned into silence. The words struck him like an accusation cast in cold, hard lead. The words hurt. He wasn't really sure why...

His Uncle had used-up practically everything Bujilli had left behind to summon him here. His old blanket. The exhumed and half-animate corpse of his mother. Ahtriska. All those things that held any sort of a tie or link back to him. The things he'd left behind. The things that still had a connection to him. All gone. He was cut loose in a way he never knew was possible, let alone essential to his continuing along the path of a sorcerer.

And he intended to continue on that path.

But not on his Uncle's terms.

There was no sense in seeking liberation only to accept shackles and expectations, other people's conditions. That wasn't freedom. He had not climbed out of hell only to be like anyone else, nor to bow before anyone else's vision of what was or could ever be. He was no one's slave. He was an independent agent.

"Ah...the light dawns..." the old Almas nodded sourly. His voice carried as much regret as it did resignation.

"You planned this." Bujilli hissed through clenched teeth. The old anger boiled up from deep below.

"I fear you give me far too much credit..."

"No. You planned all of it; my birth was a part of your plans. You expected me to serve as your weapon. Everything you did was aimed at making me the instrument of your will. Just another piece in some inscrutable game being played-out between you and my father. I'm not interested in being anyone's pawn."

"Then what will you do? He'll kill you whether you oppose him or not. It's gone too far to turn back now--"

"Too far. That's as good a confession as I can expect from you, I suppose. You've pushed matters to a head. You've forced the issue. Your meddling--"

"Not Meddling!"

"You involve me in this scheme of yours without the slightest regard for my wishes..." Bujilli drew his tulwar and began to polish it with a rag. The blade glistened with an oily sheen it only ever displayed around his Uncle.

"My plans were well underway long before you were even conceived--" His Uncle sputtered in barely retrained rage.

"Your plans. I piss on your plans old man."

"How dare--"

"I damn well dare. Like you said: I'm a sorcerer. This is about my life, even more than it is anything about you."

"Then what do you intend to do about your father?"

"First I intend to pick out the place where I intend to contact him. Then..."

"Then you'll die screaming."

"I won't be the one screaming. Not this time. But I also don't intend to face him here. Not here."

"But it is perfect--you spent a lot of time in this place as a child..."

"Exactly why I have no intention of facing my father here at all. He has no claim on my childhood. He forfeited anything like that long ago. No, not here...but what about the old monastery?"

"It's burning, in case you've forgotten."

"Yes. That's perfect."

"For what? Getting singed?"

"It was abandoned. The Yeren sometimes seek shelter there. Everyone else avoids it."

"With good reason."

"Except sometimes, when the moon was full, I would sneak down there."

"And?"

"I know that place. It knows me. that is where I'll face my father."

"Then you don't need me any more--"

Thwack!

The old Almas collapsed. The flat of the blade had caught him alongside his temple just like how Bujilli had seen unwary sailors get 'recruited' by the press-gangs in Kandjuzza. A quick spell and his Uncle was locked deep in slumber. Then he rigged-up a travois from a pair of sapling-poles, some rope and an old tarpaulin. He also bound his Uncle's hands and ankles. Then he gagged him. Just in case.

It wasn't ideal, but it would have to work.

If he ran into Yeren, he'd drop the travois and deal with them.

He dragged his Uncle out into the falling snow and headed off towards the old monastery.

He almost hoped some Yeren would be stupid enough to get in his way...

Bujilli is off to confront his father on ground of his own choosing. In this case an abandoned monastery that the Yeren, or someone, has set on fire. But will he reach the monastery before his father makes his move? Is the trail still passable? Will the Yeren try to ambush him? What else might be lurking out in the snow?

• Roll D% to see if Bujilli gets lost in the snowstorm as per Labyrinth Lord, (p.50)
• Roll 1D6 for a random Wilderness Encounter, (LL, p. 125-126) [This is Mountainous Terrain so an encounter occurs on a roll of 1-3]
• If there is an encounter, roll 1D6 for Bujilli's initiative (he gains a bonus of +1 to Initiative due to Dex), then roll another 1d6 for the initiative of whatever is encountered.
• If there is an encounter, roll 4D6 (multiply by 10) for how many yards away the thing to be encountered is from Bujilli. (LL, p. 50)
• Finally, roll 1D20 to determine what is encountered.

Post your die rolls in the comments. First posted, first served.

You Decide!

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Series Indexes

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

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Starting Page  |  Central Index

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

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Bujilli's Character Sheet | Leeja's Character Sheet | Cast of Characters

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

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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)

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Labyrinth Lord   |   Advanced Edition Companion