(Warlock!) The Sleep of the Sword, part 3

Having rescued the ranger from the white faced Unmen, the PCs returned to Beck’s Ford with him and to consult the witch. She used her herbal brews to heal everyone a bit and discussed with the Ranger that the re-manifestation of Varrock’s spirit at the Tower of Memory was probably the catalyst for the increase in Unman activity in the area. The PCs surmised that the spirit had been taken there by the twisted, one-eyed figure seen clutching a brass urn by the village idiot. The urn obviously contained the remains of the former general and the weird giant was taking him home. 

 So armed with the knowledge that the Great Bowl where the Tower was located was guarded by the Wyvern of the Wood, they set off into the forest once more. Planning this time to stop whatever was happening with the spirit of the Warlock’s former general. A ritual of some sort was the consensus. Entering the woods, they encountered a small, wizened being who had set out a stall in the bole of a lighting split tree. He claimed to be a word trader and some PCs parted with silver for the knowledge of particularly interesting words. Pushing further on they came to the Great Bowl. A desolate depression, where nothing grew opened out before them. In the centre was a rising spire of rock upon which a ruined fortress was situated. A rope bridge stretched from a great horse chestnut tree out to the fortress. Around the base of the tree is a huge, scarred, impossibly old serpent; the Wyvern of the Wood. 

 A long debate with the Wyvern (including freshly purchased words from the word trader) resulted in the PCs pledging to bring to justice thieves that had stolen past it and looted items from the Tower. So have negotiated their way past the huge serpent they crossed the rope bridge and entered the ruins. Rain poured, and thunder rumbled. By a stroke of luck a flash of lightning silhouetted a twisted being stood on a bridge of fallen masonry about to hurl a rock at the PCs. They joined battle with this creature and mortally wounded it. It revealed the urn containing Varrock’s ashes had been stolen by a townsman who smelled of ale and bitterness. Identifying this as the tavern keeper the PCs rushed back to Becks Ford, believing he was about to perform Some sort of ritual to summon the dead general’s spirit. 

 At the village it seemed all of the villagers had been invited to the innkeeper’s daughter’s birthday party at the inn. Everyone in the village was making their way there, lured by the promise of free ale. In the time honoured tradition of PCs everywhere they decided to sneak in the back. Passing Yestin, the village idiot, who proudly showed them the finished security precautions he had added to the inn. Locks to the shutters and bars on the outside of the doors, it looked like they were designed to keep people in rather than out! Inside they observed the taproom chairs had been arrayed in a circle and the inn-keep and his daughter were making some sort of celebratory speech. Believing something horrible was about to take place the PCs sprung into action upon the revelation that the inn-keep was carrying a concealed yet ornate dagger. Exposed, he plunged the dagger into the nearest villager causing smoke to spill from the urn as Varrock’s spirit began to manifest. A cloudy, dark mass of talons and eyes like burning coals. A big fight then ensued as the PCs simultaneously battled the evil spirit and tried to keep the innkeep and his daughter from sacrificing more villagers to it. Eventually though they killed the inkeep, vanquished the spirit and subdued tue daughter. There was no celebration. Instead it rained. Soaked and miserable, the villagers hung the daughter in grim silence. The PCs slipped away without ceremony, after all the Church Knights were on there trail and it was probably for the best if no one saw them leave.

(Warlock!) The Sleep of the Sword, part 2

The bloody Unmen

Alphonse, human noble

Jonas, human militiaman

Ogden, human bodyguard

Having captured the Miller they intimidated him in to revealing that he was indeed trading weapons for unusual silver but he didn’t know who the buyers were. He met them in the forest at night and they were cloaked and hooded. The characters arranged to hold him until his next trade and then follow him into the woods to observe it. 

Sure enough in a moonlit the Miller trade his boxes of weapons and bags of arrows with figures in voluminous, brown, hooded robes. The characters elected to follow these guys and discovered they were in fact the foul Unmen. Sorcerous hybrids of animal and man, cast off by whatever treacherous magician had engineered their creation. 

The Unmen had seemingly camped around a huge standing stone that they had defaced with obscene writings and abhorrent illustrations. The characters elected to try and pick off the Unmen sentries with missile fire but were unsuccessful. With the entire camp now roused to search for them a curious thing occurred. Another group of Unmen, white of face and daubed with red paints broke cover from a nearby hiding place and also began to flee. 

The PCs cleverly pitted these against a group of their pursuers and then followed the victorious White Faced Unmen back to their camp. All signs of pursuit had died away as the characters observed the White Faced Unmen feasting on roasted meats and drinking sloppily from horns of mead and wine. Also they had captured a weather-beaten looking man and strung him up from a tree in a cage made of wooden branches. Ogden was spotted by a revelling Unman but promptly shot him with his crossbow and luckily it seemed as if he had collapsed in a drunken stupor. This gave the characters an idea and they waited until the Unmen had revelled themselves to exhaustion before attempting to rescue the prisoner. 

They still engaged in a brief fight with the soberest of the white faced Unmen, whilst the others lay stultified with drink. Alphonse the disgraced nobleman was cut several times but the characters triumphed. They liberated the man who identified himself as Kaelin, the missing ranger from Back’s Ford, and the character’s made their way back to the village just as the Sun rose red in the east. An omen perhaps, the times of blood were upon them. 

(Warlock!) The Sleep of the Sword, part 1

Arts by yuriperkowski666

Samy, halfling bodyguard

Morben, elf agitator

Alphonse, human noble

Jonas, human militiaman

Ogden, human bodyguard

Whilst on the run from the Church Authorities, wanted for a crime they didn’t commit, this disparate group of itinerant undesirables came to the village of Beck’s Ford. Fleeing from the inflammatory so-called justice of the Church Knights they sought comfort from the dismal rain in the local inn. 

On the way to the village they encountered an abandoned cart. It came replete with bloodstains, damaged trade goods and a trail leading off into the nearby woods. A strange trail with multiple types of unusual footprints. Either it was Unmen , blasphemous hybrids of animal and man, or as the PCs surmised they had found a giant chicken. 

Passing this by to hopefully gain more information at the village, they headed straight to the inn. The packed tap room fell silent as they entered until they stated they meant no harm and did in fact have money. The inns occupants matched what they had seen outside. This was a downtrodden place. 

A quick chat with the mayor revealed that there had always been Unmen in this area as one of the Warlocks generals was from around here. His old fortress was located in the woods nearby, although he had been slain at the battle at Herne Hill. Lately though the numbers of Unmen had grown and with it their bravery. Soon no one would be safe. Apparently this had all escalated following the sighting of a twisted, hunchbacked, one eyed giant heading into the nearby woods. 

Alas the only eye witness to this was Yestin, the village idiot. Slightly on the paranoid side Yestin was located in the inn’s rear yard, where he had been working on adding additional security precautions. While Ogden and Jonas questioned Yestin the others remained in the bar and Owen the Miller bought them round after round of beers, regaling them with tales of his advanced milling techniques in exhaustive detail. 

Yestin stated he had in fact seen the twisted, hunchback and that he was clutching a brass urn. Also he noted that he was heading into the woods in the direction of the Great Bowl, a depression in the earth where nothing would grow. It became apparent that Yestin was a little paranoid believing that most inhabitants of the village would “stab you in the back as soon as look at you.” However he cast aspersions over the Miller’s apparent wealth and suggested the PCs also visit the witch, although not to trust her obviously. 

It was apparent that the dilapidated state of the actual windmill was incongruent with the Miller’s affluence so the PCs resolved to check him out further. After exhorting the mayor to put them up, he generously offered up the inn’s common room at no cost. Berthold the inn keeper was less enthusiastic, muttering about being under appreciated and that when he was successful everyone would rue treating with such casual disdain. 

Despite being quick drunk at the Miller’s expense the PCs agreed to stand watch and Samy the halfling heard and observed some suspicious activity around the windmill. Someone loading a cart in the middle of the night and driving it into the woods. 

Resolved to see the Miller and the witch despite their hang overs Alphonse and Ogden approached the front of the windmill to distract the miller while Jonas and Samy sneaked in the back for a look around. Morben the elf was mostly sick in the bushes, the fortified rosé proving too much for his delicate constitution. Despite making a racket while they broke in, Alphonse covered everyone’s tracks by leveraging the crippling social anxiety the Miller felt at being spoken to by an actual noble, even a disgraced one. Samy and Jonas rooted around inside the mill. Much of the workings appeared in a state of disrepair. It was unlikely the windmill would actually work as such despite the Miller’s claims to advanced  flour grinding techniques. What was definitely of interest was crates aid weapons and bags of arrows. Meanwhile the Miller was stating he believed the Unmen threat to be overstated and that it was the fear of the beastmen that was causing more problems than the creatures themselves. 

So armed with the knowledge that the Miller was definitely not on the straight and narrow they went to see the witch. The witch cast the bones and consulted the spirits of many small things. She concluded a darkness had returned to the forest and if was not held in check could spread over the whole kingdom. She prophecies plagues of Unmen and rivers of blood. They asked if she could see the Warlock but she refused “That way lies madness and death.” To which Samy the halfling responded “Our business is madness and death.” 

They resolved to expose the miller’s dodgy dealings. Theories ranged from him selling weapons to the Unmen to simply being some sort of arms dealer. However when ex millitiaman Jonas gave his best “cop knock” on the front door of the mill, the miller fled out the back. Samy and Morben were waiting for him and Samy punched him square in the ankle with her knuckle duster while Morben tries to intimidate him into submission by passive aggressively flinging flower petals at him or some other elf nonsense. Anyway, it failed but he was incapacitated by the halfling’s super low blow. 

Next session they’re going to haul him off to the inn and expose his nefarious non-milling activities.

Clearing the Shelves

One way to solve the problem of too many RPG books

In a flash my old RPG projects are dead and new one has arisen Jesus-like from the ashes. 

Indeed I have resolved to play all my unplayed games. At least the ones I have paid actual money for. I seem to have a surprisingly large collection of RPG related books and PDFs I have picked up for nothing but I’m not counting them for now. Just the ones I’ve bought. 

At present that is a count of 19 different RPGS. Some of which I am more excited about running than others, it has to be said but the proof will be in the playing. 

The List 

• Runequest 2e
• D6 Star Wars
• Marvel Superheroes (FASERIP)
• Through Sunken Lands
• Call of Cthulhu, world war cthulhu/ dark ages/legend 
• Runequest Glorantha
• The One Ring 1e
• Crypts and Things Remastered 
• GOZR 
• Blood of Pangea pdf
• WFRP 2e
• Black Hack 2e
• Troika
• Empire of the Petal Throne
• Warlock!
• Electric Bastionland
• Macchiato Monsters
• White Star
• Advanced Fighting Fantasy

In order to make this achievable I plan to run one adventure in each system until they’re all done. This flies in the face of my usual methodology of running longer form games. Also some of these are big asks. I have no idea how to actually play The One Ring or Runequest for instance and they’re complicated. Or at least they look complicated. Some are much easier, Blood of Pangea is rules light and the OSR style games are right in my usual wheel house. Through Sunken Lands doesn’t even really need prep being a sword & sorcery version of Beyond the Wall. 

In order to determine what to do first I rolled a d19 and the result was Warlock! A modern take on old school British gaming Warlock! is like a mix of WFRP and Fighting Fantasy and it seems like it’s going to be a lot of fun. 

The Temple of the Toad Oracle, pt 2

The Grim North is no country for old amphibians

Calypso Seth, M1

Dögrenn, R1

Having entered the Temple of the Toad Oracle the PCs were faced with a large pool filled with sludgy freezing cold water and millions of thumb sized tadpoles. Attempting to cross it without disturbing the pool seemed unlikely and the failure of anyone to bring a grappling hook was keenly felt. Wading through the pool left them soaked with icy water and about an hour of activity before some form of hyperthermia set in. 

Not so lucky was NPC bodyguard Steve who was snatched and carried away by something under the surface of the pool. A hasty exit onto dry land was performed. On the far side of the pool now the PCs were faced with toad statues and stairs leading up to a slime covered door. Thorough inspection of the area revealed one of the stairs featured a pressure plate and also there was a lever artfully carved into one of the statues. So, to pull the lever or not to pull the lever? 

 They pulled it. A concealed door opened up across the pool and they were able to reach it using a handy coracle. In the chamber beyond they encountered an impossibly old being. Either a huge frog so old it looked like a man or a man so old he looked like a frog. Claiming to be the Brewer, he had four crucibles laid out in front of him. He stated that they were toad brews that bestowed the powers of the amphibian gods on the Champion of the Toad Oracle. A being the PCs would have to fight if they intended to consult the oracle. 

 Calypso decided to quaff all four brews and mutated hideously as a result. She began to manifest powerful frog-like legs, froggy eyes on the side of her head, a bulbous neck sack containing a powerful croak and a slimy paralytic secretion exuding from her very skin.

They took the coracle through a semi submerged cave rather than return to the stairs of found themselves in the arena of the Toad Dome. Calypso faced the Champion of the Toad Oracle within the Toad Dome but although two entered she did not leave, having been brained by a warty mace. 

 However the sacrifice to the amphibian gods was complete and so they progressed to see the Toad Oracle itself. After solving a frog related riddle, in record time, they were granted an audience with the tiny oracular toad. His cryptic croaks were not much use to their patron who may have discovered the location of the Well of Ophid or may not have. It depends on how many croaks means yes and was that one croak with a pause or two croaks. You can’t put your faith in oracles it would seem.

Solo Dragon Warriors: Creating My Character

That downbeat survivor look is about right for a Dragon Warriors character

With setting and tools squared away; and mechanics being kept simple and non-intrusive; next port of call is character generation: 3d6 down the line, as Gary intended.

Strength 15

Reflexes 11 

Intelligence 9

Psychic Talent 9

Looks 11

So this guy is a knight. His above average strength means he’ll have encumbrance (12 items instead of 10) and attack score bonuses. Dragon Warriors rules make knights inherently defensive fighters, using better armour and defence scores than the more offensive barbarian profession with its ability to go berserk. So he’ll be skilled with his shield and in tracking, as per the rule book. I figure since he’s travelling alone he is independent and probably come off worse in a few fights. I couldn’t think of a satisfactory name or back story so I’m leaving this blank for now, to be filled in later. Expressing all this in a more FKR style looks like:

Nameless Knight

Strong

Enduring

Scarred

Swordskill

Shield

Tracking 

Armour: Coat of Plates, mail-shirt 

Gear (12 items plus Backpack) 

1. Bedroll
2. Lantern (plus Flint and Tinder)
3. Oil
4. Sword
5. Dagger
6. Shield
7. Rations (7days)
8. Wineskin
9.  
10.  
11.  
12.  

Ok, then. Ready for adventure….

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Solo Dragon Warriors

This random encounter lacks balance

Currently I have time for one campaign. Prep time and play time enough for one session a week which is on a Sunday evening. As many of us would I would like to have more gaming time. My friend Alex is an advocate of playing solo RPG. I have been aware of this. For example The One Ring RPG has Strider Mode which is a supplement for you to play alone. 

Playing this way, as both player and GM, flies in the face of my preferred play style. I’m a traditional sort of gamer, I like the GM to provide the setting and the PCs to explore it. Having control of both sides of the equation is to have total authorial control of the game and we’re into the territory of the types of story games that are not to my taste. However I’m firmly of the opinion that unless you try something, your opinion on the matter is fairly inconsequential. For example when I was trying to get a game of BECMI D&D going at an RPG club in the city almost about ten years ago, I struggled for players. So instead I ended up joining a table playing FATE Accelerated every week for fourteen weeks. So I can unequivocally state: I despise FATE. 

So how does this solo thing work? I always want a Legend based game on the go. Dragon Warriors is in my blood after all. I mean for so many reasons, not just because it was my first RPG but the pull of nostalgia is strong. Also this is a setting that lives large in my brain, so imagining myself into it is less of a stretch than something more esoteric like Tékumel. 

In order to get started I took a lot of inspiration from Ironsworn, which is good and free; and conveniently also depicts a downbeat, pseudo Dark Age, low fantasy setting. For solo play Ironsworn uses Oracles, or random tables as I prefer to call to them, to provide prompts from

which to construct the scenario which your character is going to experience. I have conveniently created my own Spark Tables which will come into play here  Also as the themes on Ironsworn are somewhat similar to Dragon Warriors the tables therein don’t require much adaptation for Legend. Random Encounter tables and B/X D&D style reaction rolls are going to be extremely useful as well. 

For mechanics I’m intending on taking a fairly FKR approach to resolutions. There will already be potentially quite a lot of dice rolling involved in consulting tables for scenario construction and developing the environment. I don’t want to get bogged down with mechanics. Ironsworn uses a PBTA approach but fortunately the tables are system agnostic so I can divest myself of those rules and use my own. 

Basically I’ll keep everything to a 2d6 (with bonuses) roll as much as possible and add relevant rules as they come up. 

I’m going to journal the adventure as it transpires. It won’t be literature, or even a play report just recording what happens in whatever format suits at the time. The whole point of this is to be flexible, having short spells of gaming in random slots of free time and seeing where it goes. There is definitely space in my psyche for a game that doesn’t require too much thought or worry. I’m excited to see what happens. 

Other Realms of the Grim North

This way to adventure, and by adventure we mean death

It is explicit on the Big F’ing Rumour Table that it is possible to access other dimensions from hidden doors and portals within the city. 

For example:

1. The Copper Door in the Spirals leads to other planes of existence. 

Which planes of existence is obviously the subject of further conjecture. Such things are studied and debated in the draughty halls of the Immaterial University. Academics are somewhat divided on the existence of the Farthest Black for instance. How would such a place manifest? Are incidents believed to be caused by breaches from said dimension evidence of anything other than the fact that outside the reality of the Grim North things are not very nice? Also there is debate whether it is the same thing as the Outer Dark or they are in fact two distinct realms so alien to our own that comprehend of their nature is impossible. It is hard to determine such things when travel seems to be one way and breachers from both dimensions seem to be as far beyond demons, as demons are to humans. 

Seemingly, the Gloom is everywhere (and nowhere) at once. A shadowy reflection of our reality. Travellers there do so supposedly by detaching their spirits from their physical body, because to transport your material form there risks it being lost in the Gloom. While it is not as well populated as the Material Realm there are things that lurk, and they are nearly all hostile to humanity. 

The Wyrd is a hotly debated subject in places where such things are actually debated. The actual existence of the Wyrd as a force or as a dimensional location are unresolved in scholastic circles. That things, people and places are Wyrd Touched is evident by the strange effects it has upon them. There are no written records known of travel to the Wyrd Realms and if anyone living has achieved such a feat and returned they are not making themselves known. 

Similarly it is believed there are doors and pathways that lead to all sorts of other strange places. The River Skarrion is reputed to have secret branches that allow boats to cover vast distances in short spaces of time. If the River Priests even know of these it seems they’re not telling. Likewise the Plane of Gennera, which rumours suggest to be populated by talking animals and weird puppet children, can be access from various locations within the city. Travellers can even make their way to the Moon of the Grim North if they can locate the correct door, although tales tell of strange arks and temples of incomprehensible geometry populated by faceless monks and twisted giants. 

It’s probably safer to stay at home. 

Grim Sorcery

Like sorcery but grim, and northern…

The rules for Grim Sorcery are constantly subject to review. This is because I’m trying out various things to get the feel I want for magic in the Grim North, that Conan-risqué Sword and Sorcery vibe that is essentially missing from most versions of Dungeons and Dragons if we’re going RAW. 

In the Grim North we want magic to feel like something ancient, powerful and if we’re honest; something us mortals should probably leave well enough alone. Player characters are not generally renowned for their sensible approach to such things however so, let’s face it, they’re going to steep themselves as deeply as humanly possible in the darkest, most foul sorcery they can find. 

Good. 

So grim sorcery has spell lists. Each relates to one of the much vaunted (admittedly, only by me) thousand dead civilisations that the Grim North is built atop the ruins of. Each long dead culture has its own ancient language in which its magic is written and if you speak that language then you can learn the spells of said ancient civilisation. Hence we don’t need artificial constructs such as Read Magic spells; if you can read Sepulchral, the grave tongue of accursed Xidia then you can acquire the secrets of those ancient death magicians. Although clearly there is some small risk attached. Folk can’t simply go stomping all over the Grim North turning up forbidden secrets and expect those secrets not to stomp back. 

So it might be that OSR D&D isn’t going to cut it or maybe it will. We’re playing online where simplicity of rules seems to be king. So keeping it sorcerous but simple is probably the way forward for now. One of the players has rolled up a wizard as his reserve character do we’ll see how it works out in the game should that come to pass. Theorising will only get us so far after all, the proof is in the play. 

A Few House Rules of the Grim North

“Let’s go over there and do adventuring or whatever”

Criticals and Fumbles: On an attack roll of natural 20 or natural 1 a further roll on the critical or fumble table will be required. (These are still works in progress but there were a few criticals rolled in the first session and I was pleased with how they resolved.)

Conan’s Rule: Once per session a PC may regain 1d4 hit points by imbibing a container  (be it flask, bottle, skin or large mug) of strong drink.

I Cut, You Choose: When performing combat manoeuvres the attacker states the desired result, makes their normal attack roll and the defender chooses whether to accept the manoeuvre or take normal damage

Shields Shall Be Splintered: This classic OSR rule means a PC may choose to absorb all the damage of an attack on their shield but it is destroyed in the process.

Grim North Session 1: Into the Temple of the Toad Oracle

Rufus Rose, F1 

Pandora Set, T1 

Dögrenn, R1 

In Nox Aeterna, city of Eternal Night, it was dark and smoky in the cans only bar at the Secret Shack of Mercenaries, Sellspears and Blades for Hire. Three ne’er do wells perused the board marked “Jobs.” It had three handwritten notes pinned to it: 

Escort Sion Malafice to the Temple of the Toad Oracle, beneath the Stilt District: 450sp 

Recover foreign family heirloom from notorious con man Edmund Eldermeans: 400sp 

Evict squatters from the formerly abandoned Von Keinlen mansion: 425sp 

Deciding that con men were notoriously difficult to pin down and that they were dangerously close to being squatters themselves, they decided to peruse the escort job. Outside, in the Spirals, it was snowing moderately as the PCs passed the abandoned church of Garuul and observed the disused fairground where the lights of the Wheel of Wyrd still turned, unattended for over a hundred years. They crossed the river via the Pauper’s Bridge and entered the gentrified district of Rivershore. Beset by ironic beards and espadrilles they forged onward until they were accosted by a smartly dressed urchin seeking charitable donations for the blind, deaf, mute, plague ridden orphans of the parish. Dögrenn’s charitable nature got the better of him and he donated a silver piece. 

They crossed into the Stilt District. The ancient residents of this area feared their terrible, cthonic gods so much they built their houses on stilts to be as far away from them as possible. In the Broken Hare tavern, they sampled the three stouts on offer (Grimniss, Night Porter, Ticket Stout) and met with Sion Malafice. Accompanied by two thugs the golden robed, black masked Malafice explained that they wished to consult the Toad Oracle but it’s temple was located in a part of the undercity that was rife with cannibal mole men and voracious white alligators. 

Just then thugs from the Lightfinger ACs burst into the tavern demanding the money that Malafice owed them. He responded by directing the PCs to deal with this for him, after assuring them that he was good for their fee (it’s not that he couldn’t afford to pay the thieves back, it as the rate of interest he was disputing) Dora erupted from the shadows and fatally backstabbed the lead thug, unfortunately she then caught a plank of wood with several nails in it to the face and was slain. Battle ensued. Dögrenn was temporarily blinded by his own blood but the thugs were defeated, the last one being tripped to the ground by the newly appeared Calypso. 

As they crossed the Stilt District, Rufus discovered a sack cloth doll that represents a little girl; however the eyes had been torn out and ragged stuffing protruded from the holes. Heading down into the drainage tunnels they found the spoor of white alligators but there was no sign of the actual beasts. Supposedly they were the de rigeur pet of the Patrician class some years ago but we’re then discarded into the Undercity once they were no longer sufficiently fashionable. 

They arrived at the entrance the the Temple of the Toad Oracle without any major incident. Steps lead down to a platform facing a huge pool, a hundred feet across, sludgy with ice and swarming with tadpoles the size of a human thumb. A significant amount of planning then ensued taking us to the end of the evening’s session.

The Grim North Returns

Not a great plan

 

Like seriously, for real this time. I did run an online con game set in the Grim North a couple of years ago but essentially now is the time to bring it back as a campaign. Something I feel excited about. Time is against me. Not just me, I realise, but I don’t have a lot of time to prep and play games. The Grim North is probably the easiest thing for me to get to the table because it exists entirely in my mind. There is no referencing of source books or whatever. I have notes and random tables and so forth but any lore comes from me. I don’t have to concern myself with adherence to any particular aesthetic for the setting. When I run the Old World or even Legend I have considerations about whether my additions are consistent with the fictional coherence of those worlds. Not so with the Grim North. This is the great advantage of crafting your own setting. When I was trying to decide what to run after WFRP ended abruptly, I was sat in the garden and surprisingly for a summers evening (even in England,) there was a chill on the wind. It felt like the Grim North was calling me home. Of course it helps that I have been quietly tinkering away on the material in the background of whatever else I was playing or running at the time. So, while I sometimes feel the need to try out new systems and settings I always seem to return to the one that I devised to run over hangouts in the G plus days. It was intended for drop in/ drop out, open world play in a giant fantasy city. It uses old school D&D rules for ease but could really run with anything if I set my mind to it. There are no overarching narratives, it supports emergent storytelling. The stories we tell of our adventures in the Grim North are crafted after the events. Characters explore and interact with the setting, it’s an old school method. Because it springs directly from my imagination it’s dark and whimsical, and it hates pretension. It’s the campaign in the old sense. The story isn’t about player characters necessarily, they are often fragile but their actions can permanently alter the setting. Alvis of the Jug might be dead, poisoned by White Spider venom in the Grimwood, but the Alleyway Brotherhood are still on the warpath after he stole Gary’s Nan’s recipe for scones. The time is right. It’s dark and smoky in the Secret Shack of Mercenaries, Sellspears and Blades for Hire, outside it’s snowing (moderately) and the Grim North awaits…

Endhammer

Aaargh! Ian Miller trees!

My 1st edition Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay campaign has come to an end after just over a year and about 30 sessions. Why did it end? Death, lots of death. 

But before we talk endings, let’s review the beginning: This is my second campaign of WFRP set in the town of Ravenstein. I originally chose it because it had a cool sounding name and not much associated lore, so I could just make lots of stuff up about it. The set up for both campaigns was that PCs were all orphans, survivors of the same orphanage, and that common bond was what tied them together as a group of what otherwise would have been fairly disparate individuals. In fact one PC spanned both campaigns as a result, despite two largely different player groups. 

My personal vision of WFRP hews close to the aesthetic of “alcoholic gamblers knifing cultists in back alleys.” I have never had a non-human PC or single orc rear their ugly head with either group. I could write a long post about what I think are appropriate setting elements for WFRP but this blog does it more justice. While I sometimes struggle with games that have a throng aesthetic to maintain, it easier after all to follow the kitchen sink approach to fantasy of early D&D than the low fantasy folklore and horror of Dragon Warriors, I also believe you’ve got to go where the game takes you. This is how you end up with a chicken footed wizard’s apprentice in the group, as well as a one armed Chaos mechanoid that floats around off the ground rather than walks. Or at least it is if you start rolling for mutations on the glorious d1000 table in Slaves to Darkness. I guess once you include a piece of warp stone in the game, there’s no getting the worms back in the can and the campaign was better for it. 

After all the orphans burned down their former orphanage, forced some children into a life of crime, murdered several completely innocent people for money and ultimately all died in a high stakes bid to take over the criminal underworld of Ravenstein. Although the mechanoid did return to life like Arnold in Terminator 2, rebooting by use of his last fate point, to bite off the head of albino gangland boss Kurt Weiss in a spectacular critical attack (only to to have his ruined mechanoid body smashed to pieces by Weiss’s surviving henchman, and new crime Lord of the city, Some Random Guy.)

So yes, we ended on a total party kill. It was glorious, totally fitting, and as with so many of these things could have easily gone the other way with a few better dice rolls on the PCs’ side. Still we’re done with WFRP for now, although a return to Ravenstein could always be on the cards at some point. After all, we never did find out what Little Herman did to deserve a steel crossbow bolt to the spine and a summary burial in the cellar of a burned down pub on Hexennacht.