Into the Odd - In the Mountains of Touforte, part 2

 After a quiet and uneventful night sleeping on the leather couches, the companions awake and begin to make ready, Tinneraine and Vanise find a pair of swords displayed on the walls and clasp the scabbards to their belts, while Awela and Sadiba peruse the bookshelves for anything of value. Sadiba, noticing a tome on sword-fighting, brushes aside a dusty web when a sharp pain on his hand elicits a scream as he falls to the ground shaking. Tinneraine dashes over and swats away the enormous pallid ghost-recluse with his new sword before he sucks the poison out from Sadiba's wound.

"My dear, you must be more careful," Tinneraine says to Sadiba upon his return to consciousness, "who knows what foul crawling things can do!"

"It's best we depart now," says Awela as she shoulders her pack.

As the companions exit the manor they notice the corpses they had encountered the previous evening had vanished by some means in the night.

Tinneraine mutters some esoteric prayer to calm his beating heart as they pass by and set foot across the dewy meadow toward the mountain pass to the north.

Unseen by Awela and colleagues, a swarthy man wearing a drab fatigues collapses a spyglass and picks up his musket, before turning to his stout companion.

"I see them heading towards Stonefinger Pass, I know another way"

"These rock formations are so fascinating! Stonefinger Pass, it's called, how appropriate," says Vanise as she gawks at the enormous red stone spires which stretch across the narrow canyon before the party. "Nothing such as this in Bastion!"

"Oh, Vanise, you have been spending too much time with the local yokels. Though I must admit this view is stunning."

As they make their way through the pass, Awela hears the telltale sound of a detonation. "We are not alone, something is not right."

"You are so paranoid, dear commander, likely it is some miners in the hills, no more," says Vanise.

"But there it is again! Let us tread carefully," says Awela sharply.

Vanise scans the area when she notices stones falling from above and tremors at her feet. "I think the time for care may have passed already, may I suggest alacrity?"

"Say no more," says Tinneraine as he begins to dash toward a larger spire, "elevation is key!"

Larger stones from the canyon walls begin to crash around Awela and Sadiba as they dash toward the spire that Tinneraine and Vanise have begun to climb and secure a rope and pitons.

"I suppose in this moment, I may have preferred the leeches," says Tinneraine.

"Would you just climb, we need a secure path up, come now," Vanise retorts before shouting at her companions to run faster.

Stones pelt Awela and Sadiba as they run through the chaos. While Awela manages to shrug off the worst of it Sadiba is momentarily dazed as a geode strikes his temple, drawing blood. He recovers quickly and begins his ascent behind Awela.

The earth continues to shake as the party climbs the spire. Just as Vanise reaches its flat top she hears the crack of musket fire. "I suppose these may not, indeed, be miners," she says as she helps Tinneraine and Awela up. "Sadiba, please climb faster dear, we are under siege from above now!"

"Southwest, that ridge, Tinner, ready your rocket!" Awela barks, pointing at two figures loading their muskets, "Vanise get Sadiba up here!"

A musketball screams past Tinneraine's ear as he readies his rocket and another musketball strikes Sadiba square in the shoulder. Vanise watches him helplessly as Sadiba's grip on the rope falters and he falls into the churning torrent of stone below.

Awela and Tinneraine's rockets soar across the canyon and bust into a shower of green and blue fire which briefly knocks back the taller figure on the ridge. Vanise unholsters her pistol and looks at Tinneraine tearfully as another musketball grazes Vanise's cheek. The three remaining companions unload their revolvers into the figures beyond. Seeing no movement they collapse atop the spire as they wait for the landslide to subside.

After about an hour, the three descend to the base of the spire. Vanise and Tinneraine frantically search the rubble attempting to locate Sadiba, who they shortly find crushed beneath an enormous boulder. Tinneraine holds a coin to Sadiba's nose and discovers faint breath.

"Oh my dear Sadiba, how can you forgive me!" Tinneraine laments.

Sadiba coughs weakly. "Oh but you took me beyond the clouds. Please, take care of yourself, Tinneraine, and take care of them," he says as he puts a small coffin-shaped box into Tinneraine's hand. "I will see you again, stars and saints willing."

After Tinneraine performs a short funerary rite, the three companions move on in silence as the skies darken and thunder rumbles in the distance.

Into the Odd - In the Mountains of Touforte

I have decided to try out some solo RPG'ing. Doing some Into the Odd solo hex-crawl, using my binder of random tables and a smorgasbord of solo tools. We will see how this goes, but I have had fun so far.

Dramatis Personae

Awela Singh - a veteran demolitions expert who served in the underwar years ago before turning to a life of adventure and criminal endeavors. In addition to her penchant for explosives, she plays the french horn in a veteran's orchestra.

Vanise Palamas - an enthusiastic mountaineer with a background in anarchist sabotage and bongo-accompanied poetry. Her connections to Bastion's underbelly has kept the crew gainfully employed of late.

Tinneraine Toohzette - a defrocked minister of the nameless saint of secrets, he was excommunicated for being a gossip. His side hustle as fashion columnist at an independent rag mostly feeds his luxury addiction.

Sadiba Navda - a young, curious man recently released from an indentured bond to a mining syndicate his parents sold him to as a means to escape debts. Unlike his boyfriend, Tinneraine, he has no interest in engaging in crime and continues to work an honest day-job mining for the syndicate.

Prologue

 Before the sun's first rays touch the city's thick smog, before the bakers fire their ovens on this muddy April morning, Awela Singh leads her comrades Tinneraine and Sadiba through the back-alleys of Zapham Row, the Consortium of Court Conductors hot on their tail.

"Oh how brave of you Sadiba, to save me so daringly," says Tinneraine, kissing the younger man's forehead as they stop to catch their breaths at an intersection.

"Quiet, you two!" Awela says as she scans the quiet street. "Where are you, Van?" she curses quietly.

Just then a rope ladder hits Tinneraine in the head as he was leaning in for another kiss.

"Oh, Vanise! Must you always vex me so!" cried Tinneraine.

"Climb!" Awela shouts as she trains a pistol down the alley waiting for their pursuers to arrive. Which they do, just as the ladder begins to ascend. She fires at the men in tuxedos as she rises into the air, above the smoke as the sun rises over Bastion. In the basket of a hot air balloon, the four unlikely heroes look over their home as it wakes, possibly seeing this city for the last time.

"How dramatic a rescue, Vanise," says Awela.

"Ironically, this was the cheapest, and most reliable vehicle that Zoddler had at hand on such a short notice. He said the prevailing winds will take us close to Touforte, we can lay low there and look up some badass nun he used to know," says Vanise.

"A nun? Van are you mad?" asks Tinneraine.

"Apparently not as mad as this nun, but she's a good fixer by his account, we are sure to have work with her."

"Fine, Touforte it is," says Awela. "Sadiba, you know there ain't no going back now? Yer one of us, better or worse, kiddo."

The younger man hugs Tinneraine tighter, "I made my choice," he says and kisses him, "I choose you, Mr. Toohzette."

After swapping their balloon for a flat above an art gallery next to a distillery in the industrial district of Touforte, the crew lies low for a couple weeks before seeking out Fraulein Rothelle at the chapel of St. Zevanka, the Lioness.

The chapel resembles an old hunting lodge, taxidermied animals and beasts unnatural displayed throughout, and the symbol of St. Zevenka, the musket and the morning glory carved into an ivory altar. An elderly woman wearing furs welcomes them into her office, walls covered in animal print wallpaper, her spectacles gilded tortoiseshell.

"I am Fraulein Rothelle, minister of these halls. How can I help you, hunters, for that is what you are, no? I see it in you, what quarry do you pursue that our sainted lady may assist with?"

Vanise slides a sealed letter to the woman, who opens, and reads it, smiles, and places the letter in her desk. "I see, you are hunters indeed, I thought I smelled the smoke of Bastion on you. I haven't heard from old Zoddler in near a decade." She sighs deeply. "I may have something for you. I shall send word when the time comes. May St. Zevenka guide you!"

Day 1

Tinneraine stares mournfully at the barley coffee, stale croissants, and bruised pears laid out upon the table in front of him. "Oh how I miss genuine food! Real coffee was not so hard to find in Bastion, even Zapham Row had a Turkish coffee house of passable quality."

"We can buy real coffee as soon as we do the nun's task, my dear," says Sadiba through bites of croissant, "and I agree with Vanise, I may even be able to find a vein of ore worth selling stake in."

"See! North is surely the best way to go. Besides, with weather as gorgeous as it's been lately, wouldn't you prefer the clear mountain air over the humid swamps, wet boots, and more leeches than St. Tarazik University Hospital?" she says as she mounts the sofa in a triumphant pose.

"Dear Vanise, would you remove your shoes from the davenport, its upholstery is bare enough as is," says Tinneraine, "but I also agree. I'm not due for an exsanguination until July."

Awela nods, staring into her coffee. "It's decided, Vanise will lead us through the pass north. Two days to the Abbey, two days back. We shan't be gone more'n a week."

"Yes Lieutenant Singh, ser!"

 Setting out under a cloudless sky, the four comrades climb the pass north, unaware of what stalks them. Unbeknownst to Awela and colleagues, Fraulein Rothelle's mission is a ruse. These hunters, shall soon be the hunted.

As the sun passes its apogee, the companions find themselves in a grove of violet-leafed aspens wherein they take time for a small repast of tinned whale pemmican and fresh mountain water.

"I could get used to this, my dear friends," says Vanise, "the smog of old Bastion certainly did a number on my lungs that only two-and-one-half packets of cigarillos a day could hope to recreate."

"Aye," says Awela as she cleans out the empty ration can in the nearby stream, "and the water ain't ruddy nor jaundiced."

"Oh you really are deep country bumpkins already, I see. Clean air and water are no substitute for fine culture, good food, and the innumerable luxury amenities Bastion did provide, my friends," says Tinneraine as he polishes his ivory handled pistol. "Ah but look, Sadiba runs for us!"

Sadiba upon returning to the party from the edge of the grove, breathless, says, "Yonder, a mansion, all sinking into the earth, and some creatures of right ghastly mien pursue me!"

Out from the trees burst five crawling things, each sporting purple and gold striped chitin and two hairy tendrils waving from the top of their thorax. They advance across the grass, their mandibles chittring with menace.

Vanise and Tinneraine leap to their feet and shoot their pistols at the beasts while Awela lights a bomb and tosses it toward the oncoming insects. Their volley of firepower destroys four of the creatures handily as the fifth flees, swinging away through the violet leaves with its dorsal tendrils.

"With any luck, we shall not see that again," says Tinneraine, "but I wonder after this Manor, should it provide shelter for an eve, I'd much prefer it to roughing it on some cave floor as we are like to do before we reach the old abbey."

"What luck we should find a defensible position that suits your fancy, oh Princess Toohzette" said Vanise with a wink.

"What else besides these critters you seen boyo?" said Awela. "Lead on, best see what we may do with the place."

 Near to the mansion a fresh half eaten human corpse lies prone. Sadiba lights his lantern as Tinneraine searches a nearby satchel and finds two mysterious metallic elixirs, "Hopefully these may fetch a few shillings in the Touforte market, enough for good coffee with any luck."

Entering the old manor, the comrades find themselves in a statuary room with oil-covered scuptures and a blue jasper statue toppled over on the floor crushing a human corpse beneath.

"Two fresh dead," says Awela "I'd rather tarry no more."

"Oh my dear lieutenant," says Vanise, "can you not smell the sweet flowers deeper in? These poor folk were merely unlucky and too few, we have each other and more brains besides, even with Tinneraine here!"

"Oh you vex me again, Vanise, but I must concur, even if dusty the furnishings here must be better than our vaporous flat! Let us find some comfort here!" says Tinneraine.

Awela relents and leads here comrades through the passage north to find two doors, to their right, locked with a floral scent, ahead the door ajar, a fait hissing can be heard. "Let us see about the chamber ahead before we attempt to open this door."

Upon entering, a pit lay before them, filled with human and nonhuman corpses, some fresh on top, others further down all but mummified. The air shimmers within as some gaseous substance streams from the pipes in the ceiling. Awela and Sadiba enter some reverie and begin to walk toward the pit, Vanise shakes off the influence of the gas, while Tinneraine, who is immune to all toxic substances, notices no effect. The pair drag their companions from the room and shut the door.

"You spike this door shut, and I will pick the lock on the other, keep an eye on these two", says Vanise to Tinneraine. This done, Sadiba and Awela come to sitting on plush leather chairs as Vanise and Tinneraine smoke cigars on the sofa beside them.

"Well, we did find some comfort, friends," Vanise says.

"I'd as soon take this furniture back to Touforte, better quality than likely to be found in leagues of this wild space."

Awela stands up groggily and scans her surroundings, shelves of books, a large table with a topographical map of the surrounding area, doors to the east and west.

"I also found perfume, my dear," Tinneraine says, winking at Sadiba."

"We checked the other door, Awela. It smelled... less than pleasant, but we spiked that door shut as well as that horrible tomb we nearly lost you to. This room, seems to be well enough for a night's rest, and even a hearth to warm ourselves by."

"I'd rather not tarry, but I can see the import of comfort we are unlikely to find in the abbey. We shall make haste at sunrise."

I guess it's 2024

trying to find where the time goes

I published a thing:

It's not entirely finished yet, but I managed to brush up the main bits I have playtested into something that can be run at the table, a full year and a half after I first wrote it.

I think it's a wonderfully spooky and silly sort of dungeon. I did some collage art and have been playing with layout. DIY lifestyles mang. Any feedback would be appreciated, as I am fairly new to the layout stuff.

I had run it three times over the course of maybe 8 sessions aggregate. There's a greenhouse section in the works, about as many rooms as the mansion, with some weirdness I need to sort out. Which brings me to the main point of why I am writing this....

Dusting Off the Ol' Bloggerino

Cough Blow GIFfrom Cough GIFs

I have been absent from these parts. Work swallowed me whole and then I got a new position and moved to a new town. My interest in the hobby waned, as ADHD is wont to do, but here I am.

Fantofel is still being worked on, I even had a couple of promising playtests in September, which I was considering writing up, but maybe not just yet.

possible teaser

But, for now I think I need further distractions.

Which brings me to this wonderful article by Roll to Doubt, which has been inspirational. And it has brought me back to what I had been considering as a method by which to do the sadly abandoned #Dungeons23. I will try to craft adventures. No strings, no expectations, no plans. My ambition is often a source of sabotage. I was best at poetry when I flowed with the vibe. Then I chained myself to the muse, recently I have chained myself to ambition. By working at a craft I can entertain whimsy, I can revel in the mercurial impish nature of my mind with the only expectation of creation.

Book Dust GIFfrom Book GIFs

Quality will come, and I can cannibalize as I see fit as I go along.

Fragments and palimpsests, this is how I will vibe.

The Congress of Swine

 

this was the first iteration of nutmeg pass

 
initially, what would become The Congress of Swine was just a fun collection of words i came up with when i decided to include Rosa Bonheur's painting of wild boars in the snow while constructing my first map of Nutmeg Pass, using this sort of voronoi-esque hexmap. it sort of stuck with me, so i thought, what better way to follow up my cairn dungeon (see Caspar David Friedrich's painting also included above), than playing around with these mysterious swine.

Rosa Bonheur

now this dungeon, i haven't prettied up quite yet, and it is in fact quite minimalistic. i even had a layout planned at one point, but i am now reconsidering so now i just have an unlinked group of rooms which are to be taken together at some point. the main gist is that maybe these swine are causing trouble for the local aurochs herders (a generational feud if the frescoes buried beneath the cairn are anything to reckon by). like the boarskin mask found among the cairn's hoard, the congress of swine have the gift of stoneskin, but they have no control over when they are flesh and when they are stone. these little buddies turn to stone as soon as the sun fully clears the horizon and awaken when the sun again touches the horizon. these crepuscular transformations keep them relatively safe during the day when the herders are about, yet leaves their lair vulnerable during the day.

domes are neat

while i had considered a full capitol building of mysteries, i am now less inclined to do so, as i feel as though the swine would want to keep a low profile. when players go deeper into a certain section of the woods they will find a stone amphitheater, surprisingly well kept, facing a small open air rotunda. the amphitheater may at time be populated by swine caught in the midst of an argument, in the flesh at night or frozen in stone during the day. within the rotunda will be a small bronze boar statue which is a trapped secret entrance to their underground chambers.

Carl Gustav Carus

 below ground will be a colonnade hall, a small fungus farm, a trophy room, a records room, a magical mud pit, and more. and because this is dungeon23 and i am already working on the next dungeon located in a completely different area, this is where i will leave it for the time being. Sean McCoy did put out a call for minimalism and grace through this, and i think my inclination for this unfinished jumble of mostly keyed rooms is to give myself the wide berth of grace necessary to continue on. i cannot linger any longer on what i have already made well enough. more exists now than had before i started and the show goes on

Jacob Gløersen

The Cairn

 i am stuck in minnesota after a scuffle with the snow. meaning i have a lot of time on my hands. as such i completed a proof-of concept for my foray into the dungeon23 lifestyle. this is a work in progress, so the layout is only a start and it is still incomplete. final edition will take place at some point, but i feel good having made something of substance out of what was only an idea bouncing around the back of my head.

so without further ado, here is the cold cairn found atop a snowy hill in Nutmeg Pass.

The Cairn

Nutmeg Pass is essentially the introductory level to the Fantofel Recreation area, and skiing through its slopes is the best way to get to the charming old town of Law-o'-Caspan, a formerly popular vacation spot well beyond its initial hype. Nutmeg Pass is primarily the territory of a dairy herding cooperative who use the Glass Pyramid Train Station's defunct casino as barn and milking parlor.

i have also started on the next dungeon in Nutmeg Pass called The Congress of Swine. i am looking forward to how that shapes out and i am using my current marooning in minnesota as a source of inspiration as i am strangely staying in a charming hotel run by an old catholic boarding school. the campus is honestly vaguely reminiscent of my image of Law-o'-Caspan, complete with stone clock'n'bells tower.

Law-o'-Caspan

my dungeons23 continues to excite me and i am looking forward to how this first seasonal area unfolds. hope you all are keeping the shivers at bay this oddmas season.

iron fragility and lead scarcity

the idea that i am gonna talk about came up in the bastionland discord, it was regarding fragile weapons in a dark sun sorta setting. this was brought up again today in the discord based on a stalker-based hack, so now i am gonna put it here for posterity. these rules are for into the odd and its offshoots wherein there are no to-hit rolls.

i can probably hit something with that old thing

in my mini dungeon i am writing this week, the players will be able to discover some aged and fragile swords and other medieval weaponry. these are really neat, but they are essentially artifacts. they may have historical significance and may be worth money to the right buyer, but they are also weapons. say there's this gorgeous claymore, corroded but still sharp, gemstones since pried from its handle, but a decent looking beast of a weapon.

ancient claymore, d8, bulky, fragile

fragile in this context turns the damage die into a usage die. say you swing this weapon at a grave wight and roll a hefty 8 for damage, what a show, but the darn thing is so old it can't take that sort of beating. clang!  the tip of the blade breaks off, dang, no good. bump that damage die down to d6.

might be interesting to a back-alley museum

later you are facing off against an annoying wrencher trying to steal your gear while sleeping. roll damage. a nice clean 6 and the damaged old thing cuts through the wrencher's stinking yellow coat but gets stuck, with a yank you come away with a handle and just a bit of blade left. d4 damage, and not really all that bulky anymore probably. might be worth a bit of coin, maybe 20 silverbucks from an avid collector, but probably not, just a rusty hunk of metal at this point. this would also be great for any sort of cobbled together weaponry, a bone club, a chair, wine bottle, any sort of weapon that could be considered fragile.

gotta show them ghouls what for

this is also something i think works well for automatic weapons with regards to ammo. i like how this worked with the corrosion cannon from the iron coral, but make it granular. say you got yourself set up with a neat little gatling as those pesky orchard ghouls are planning to overrun the cidery, again. you tried to negotiate with them to no avail and now it's fucking lead'o'clock.

gatling gun, d10, blast, automatic, stationary

this bad boy can do some damage, and say you roll 10 on damage, yeah that mows down a bunch of em, but still they come. your ammo is running low, d8 damage now. it sure is fun to fire a hundred rounds a second, but bullets don't grow on trees, at least round here. keep bumping the die down when rolling max damage until you are all out. d10>d8>d6>d4>0

so that's the thing. i tend to like elegant solutions, the fewer rolls the better, so if you have some sort of automatic weapon or a fragile boy, why don't you usage die the damage die. i really like doing the max score because that way it feels good before you lose some power, yeah you did a critical hit, but physics, yeah good shooting, kid, but you kind of held that trigger a bit longer than you should have.

Solstice Dungeon - a work in progress

 as my hobonichi came early and had weeks starting this december, i thought maybe i would start early during the week of the winter solstice, the true new year. seeing as my theme for dungeons23 is seasonal, it felt appropriate to start at the very beginning of winter. to mark the solstice, here is what I have put together thus far.

The Cairn

While trekking through the valleys of Nutmeg Pass you spy an impressive cairn looming atop a hill amongst a small copse of windbeaten pines. The winter wind whistles through the cracks in the cairn as you lift the stones revealing a dark shaft driving into the frozen earth.

Caspar David Friedrich

1) Burial Sleigh
    - Mummified corpse in decayed finery sitting on a sleigh lashed to four mummified aurochs.
    - Ancient, brittle medieval weapons (d6, fragile) and various debris litter the floor
    - Portcullis propped open with broken wood and mummified corpses to hallway leading deeper.

2) Humming Stone Chamber
    - Enormous humming brown stone resembling a walnut swings gently via a chain pulley system bolted to the ceiling and ending in a crank spool on western end of the room.
        + The humming causes vomiting for anyone being in this chamber for more than 5 minutes.
    - Floor mosaic depicting figures battling on aurochs-led sleighs on an arctic battlefield.
    - Hallways leading North (to 4, portcullis shut from other side), East (to 5, portcullis blasted open), and South (to 1, portcullis propped up)

6) Diggerman Cave   
    - Rough hewn tunnel-like cave, supported primarily by fresh timber and tomb detritus.
    - Chest of precious minerals and stones
    - Diggerman 4HP, pick (d6, bulky) minibombs (d6, blast)
        + Desires precious minerals and stones
        + Dirty, disgusting, nerdy, distinguished.
        + Chained to Diggerbeast
    - Diggerbeast 6 HP, digging claws (d6)
        + Loves but does not respect Diggerman
        + Desires freedom and friends

Carl Spitzweg

some passing ideas regarding this process include when is it appropriate to "work ahead"? at times i found my head swimming with ideas and i made an effort to file these away, not wanting to get too far ahead of myself. part of the appeal of this practice is that it echoes a lot of the mindfulness techniques i learned while training to be a social worker. at work, this practice is of particular use given how fast-paced and often brutal my work can be.

i did these sitting in a window just off a skyway leading to the cafeteria on the furthest south end of the hospital. this window is far from my unit and often quite sunny, weather permitting. i sit, eat lunch, listen to whatever is in my head that day and write out a room. and this evening i wrote everything down and fleshed out the three rooms in a blog draft.

nice view for dungeonmaking

but on my way home, walking in the pre-blizzard conditions, i started thinking of the other rooms, what might lurk in room 7? what riches await in room 3? what should i put in the other rooms? but i set these thoughts aside and instead focused on fleshing out the diggerman who had once been a geologist with a giant mole. and yet my mind tugged me away, what about slim watchers in the woods who shyly protest "don't look!"? no, not yet.

i can't pin down a conclusion on whether or not i should think too much on other rooms, whether i should hold them lightly, eschew working ahead altogether, or just follow the dopamine. for now, i think i will try mindfulness, but if it becomes too rigid, i may have to bust out, and then reconstrain, like breathing through this project.