Get your pre-orders in, the core books for 4th edition have just been listed on Amazon.com. The release date is June 6th, 2008 and they’re priced at $23.07 before tax and shipping. I’ve read that the books were going for more of a “magazine” feel as far as the contents. More pictures, side tables and flair – less of the textbook-style pages that we’re used to. I hope that doesn’t mean they’re skimping on the content, but we’ll see.
Archive for November, 2007
28
Nov
07
4th Edition Core Books
Game Date: July 13th, 2007 (Bethel Park, PA - John’s House)
Experience: 4,500 per player, 4,000 per cohort.
CHAPTER THREE - Mendesa/The Pillar at Falstrom’s Ranch
An image of Falstrom’s ranch wavered and pulsed on the plain piece of parchment that the group had received from the Tribunal. It was the map to the Iron Acropolis – not the original, the one that was meant to be created by the fabled barbarian axe that Ander carried. No, this was a result of magic and research. A collaboration of minds over the past hundred years to create a map that would lead the bearers of the shards to the doorstep of the Acropolis. Nevertheless, the image that appeared on the paper was so real it was as though one could reach in and touch it. There was nothing more on the map other than the image of Loutarin’s home, now broken and battered after the coup in Calad Brae.
In unanimous agreement, the adventurers teleported to the cemetery in Calad Brae, reiterating to Amadius and Falstrom that they would remain safe in the keep. Everyone knew that could very well be a lie, but no one spoke. The large graveyard was, by all accounts, the only place that Omus’ prying eyes had not gone. Whether it was because he had a certain respect for the dead, or if there was some nether-magic protecting it, the group could only guess. It was a question that was irrelevant – they would be relatively safe here, and that was enough.
When a movement caught Pontius’ eye, the party members went on the defensive, each one ready for battle. The movement continued, and as the rising sun crested the horizon, the groundskeeper Mendesa’s form could be seen chasing around a fat groundhog, yelling obscenities and cursing the animal for ruining the sacred grounds. Pontius raised his bow, and in one quick movement sent the steel tip of an arrow clean through the animal, sending pieces of flesh and a fine red mist raining down on the wide-eyed groundskeeper. There was, for the moment, some levity as the group walked forward to greet their old friend, smirks and chuckles aside.
Wiping the blood from his face, Mendesa explained that the city was under strict control of Omus, something the entire party knew. They were not aware of what level the control had taken the citizens, however, until Draz flew out of the cemetery perimeter and was immediately bombarded by a strong mental suggestion to support Omus. The creature returned, luckily unfazed, and relayed the info. It was decided that the only way to Falstrom’s farm would have to be under the guise of night. Mendesa arranged for the group’s transport via the horse-drawn cart that brought the dead to the cemetery gates. It was an unceremonious means of transportation to be sure, but it got the job done. The adventurers loaded themselves into the stinking empty coffins that were the result of the latest delivery, and in no time exited the gates on their way to Falstrom’s home.
The images on the parchment continued to swirl and meld together as if they were nothing more than reflections in a pool. As the party moved to the location displayed, the image would change, revealing a more detailed path than the last, until finally everyone found themselves standing in the wine cellar of the abandoned ranch. Even Loutarin, who had lived here for years, had not known about the secret door that was hidden in the floorboards of the dining room, but the map had shown them without hesitation. As they investigated the dusty basement further, Namakin noticed a large circle carved into the floor, now covered with years of cobwebs and debris. Surrounding the shape were runic symbols and a large tear-shaped embossment was carved into the center. Without much thought, the group placed the crystal tear, the result of the three alignment shards, into the middle of the circle.
At first nothing more than a low-pitched hum filled the room. It was the sound of an something ancient, a machine that had been put into motion after countless years. This circle, the group would soon find out, was nothing more than a keyhole to a larger mechanism that possibly lay under the city. It was nothing more than a lock, and fortunately they had the key. As the hum soon became an audible whirring, the large stone disc on the floor radiated a soft blue light, increasing with the sound as if they were one in the same. The noise of scraping stone could be heard as the runes began turning faster and faster, until the large circle in the middle of the floor was nothing more than a screeching vortex with some unseen purpose. Shielding their eyes, everyone backed away as the basement was filled with a bright light and deafening tone, and without warning it happened. The rune-encrusted disc was thrown violently upward, through the top of Falstrom’s ranch and into the heaven’s above, presumably to fall in some open field, broken and unrecognizable. A pillar of pure white light shot into the sky, sending the group on their heels and running out of the basement. They ran blindly, of course, hoping that they could get far enough away before whatever evil they had unleashed was upon them – but it never came. There no monsters, no creatures of death and no threats. There was simply the large pulsating pillar of light, visible for miles, emanating from what was once the wine cellar and living room of Falstrom.
Loutarin, Pontius, Namakin, Ander and Relak sat on the grassy field outside of the house, staring in awe at what they had activated. It was a beautiful sight, reaching far into the heavens, and while it was of the purest light, no heat came from it. Whether it was an incarnation of magic or simply the work of the gods themselves, no one knew. Looking once more at the map, a new location was unveiled and Loutarin found that the tear-shaped key had once again returned to his pouch. the image was that of the Thistled Den, and everyone knew that regardless of where they decided to go, they could not stay here. As much as they wanted to, there was no keeping this secret. Deciding to go to Shen Sao’s for help, the group made haste into the city, actively trying to avoid the calls of the guards that were already on their way to Falstrom’s.
CHAPTER FOUR - The Pillar at the Thistled Den /Into the Beast
There was no way around it: the group would not be able to enter the Thistled Den, given the fact that they had caused a large disturbance there a little over a year ago. Relak remembered it well, for it was his life that was spared because of the group’s actions. The ogre did not forget what it was like to be shunned by the human guards simply for being a different race. If it were not for the adventurers coming out of the tavern that night, he may have fallen victim to the powerful patrols that scoured the streets every night. It was a long time ago, but under the city’s current leadership, no one could take the chance that they had been forgotten. Everyone agreed that the only way into the tavern was in disguise.
Shen Sao had suggested that perhaps a more direct route should be taken, especially since the surface was riddled with wards and mind-affecting spells that kept the populous under control. He introduced a large tunnel system beneath the city, one that his organization often used to skirt the trade laws that had recently been imposed. The sub-roads had been used long ago by the founding fathers of Calad Brae, during times of war, when the city was nothing more than a bustling town. Now, they were long forgotten, known only to those who had privileged information of their layouts.
Wasting no time, the adventures thanked their host and made their way to the Thistled Den by way of the ancient under-city. Upon their arrival, it was made entirely clear (after some searching of course) that they would not need to go into the tavern at all. The tunnels had led them straight under the structure, into a long forgotten room, extremely similar to that below Falstrom’s ranch. Crawling beneath the floorboards they watched through the cracks above to see the patrons laughing and enjoying their night. They moved quietly, despite the slim chance that anyone would hear them over the din above. Everyone knew somehow that they would find another of the ancient runic discs at this location – they weren’t sure how and no one spoke of it, but they all shared the same thought. And with a minimal amount of effort, they found it.
It was covered in a thick layer of dust, just below the bar above, waiting silently in a long-forgotten storage cellar beneath the sub-floor. Pulling out the tear-shaped key, Ander followed the same ritual, and this time everyone knew what to expect. The group shielded their eyes as the disc was activated, humming softly at first with a pale glow, and then growing until the the light filled even the tavern above. Screams and gasps could be heard from inside the building as the people saw the streams of white light piercing the floorboards. It would be the last thing many of them saw.
Throwing tables, chairs and humans alike, the second pillar roared into the night sky almost as a compliment to the pillar rising out of Falstrom’s. Any of those unfortunate souls caught in the blast radius were no more. The room below was illuminated to the point of blindness, but Loutarin was able to get a look at the map for a moment. The image had now changed to the marble floor of the Great Hall, Omus’ home. Pontius screamed to the group that they must retreat and move on, and it echoed true. Through the chaos Louatrin and Namakin teleported everyone back to the keep – there would be no more activity in Calad Brae. Even if they were able to somehow enter the Great Hall, the city was no doubt on full alert after tonight’s events. Now, they were safe in their mountain fortress, and a plan was needed.
They explained the situation to Falstrom, Ghanadar and Amadius – it was dire indeed. The cool autumn air swept across the ramparts of the keep, and the adventurers stood on the walls looking out to the horizon. There was no mistaking it: even from this distance, two huge pillars stretched to the sky as though the city was reaching its hands to the gods for help. No one spoke. They could not go back to Calad Brae tonight, and by Namakin’s estimation, the six days had passed since they left Feymore – Berimaan would be waiting for them at Burrowshead’s gates.
The next morning the group arrived at the knotted tree that Berimaan spoke of earlier where they were to meet. As promised, he was there, and this time he had information for them – a task. Cordiality aside, the mage revealed that he was indeed one of the original seven who had summoned the Ancient Evil, and that he alone knew how to defeat it. There was but one way, and it was trapped inside the beast.
His task was this: travel inside the Ancient Evil to a place he was not able to go and retrieve an item that would ensure it’s demise. Berimaan explained that because of the dual nature of the alignments contained within the creature, he was able to fend off the total consumption of his conscience, at least for now. The evil inside was far greater than the good, and every day was a constant battle for sanity. He offered them entrance into the conscience, as well as an exit should they need to escape, but he let them know the decision had to be made then. The more time that passed, the weaker he became.
The group inquired as to the importance of this, especially since Mask was on the heels of obtaining the Commands of the Gods. Berimaan’s reply was simple: if the Ancient Evil is not destroyed, the Iron Acropolis and all that surrounds it will mean nothing. Only by banishing this force from the Material Plane permanently would there ever be any balance. If the group could have collectively sighed, they would have. Once again, they had jumped out of the boiling water and into the fire.
The decision had been made: after preparations, Berimaan would consume and then guide them, giving them entrance to stand face-to-face with a creature no one has even been able to defeat.
The people over at ENWorld decided to give us some Thanksgiving Day goodness by offering a bunch of PDFs for free this week. The books will be available for download from November 12th through the 16th. Many of them look to be third-party and I can’t say I’m familiar with some of the settings/games.
On the 16th, there is a WOTC book that is definitely worth the free download – “Book of Challenges: Dungeon Rooms, Puzzles and Traps.” We’ve already missed the Monday downloads, so get in there and see if there is anything that interests you before it’s gone!
12
Nov
07
Swashbuckling Cards
We’re still a month away from gaming, but that doesn’t mean I can’t prepare for our Christmas session a little earlier. In 
the spirit of the season, I wanted to institute a little PC-advantage for our next get-together. Let’s call it my Christmas gift to you. 
A while back, I came upon this great idea called Swashbuckling Cards. Basically, they mimicked luck, good fortune and irrational events that might befall anyone at any given time.
The way they work is this: at the beginning of each session, the DM hands out two cards to each player (in our case I made a chart that each player can roll on – you know how we love percentage tables). For the remainder of that session, each player can play their cards whenever they want to their (or the group’s) benefit. Once a card is played, it’s gone for the day. The player must use it on themselves, cannot trade with other players, and all unused cards are returned at the end of the session.
30 of the 100 cards are listed as “at the discretion of the DM” because of their drastic nature. I’ve highlighted them so I can get your take on them. Take a look and let me know what you think – would they add too much of an advantage? Should the DM also get 2 cards? Could they add another element to the game, or are they better off left alone?
Game Date: July 13th, 2007 (Bethel Park, PA - John’s House)
Experience: 4,500 per player, 4,000 per cohort.
CHAPTER ONE - Lathander’s Temple/Berimaan
Amblin’s footsteps could be heard as he retreated down the temple’s outdoor corridor. He was off to get some sleep, but not before he instructed the group on their meeting tomorrow with the heads of the Tribunal. The leading members of each temple were divided, along with their clerics, as to how the adventurers fit into the grand scheme of things. They had all assembled at Lathander’s temple in Feymore, a large gathering to decide how to proceed with the threats posing their beloved isle.
Half of the priests agreed that the group could not be trusted. Once before, they had betrayed Lathander’s clergy by siding with Mask and returning Sorrow’s Memory back to the evil deity’s hands. Unbeknown to them, the “betrayal” was less of an act of defiance, and due more to the fact that they were a young, naive group who was trying to save their good friend Egeus. The other half of the Tribunal, those who have seen firsthand that the adventurers were able to obtain all 3 pieces of the key to the Acropolis, felt differently. They argued that this group, despite what they forced into in the past, was the rightful recipient of the map that led to the Acropolis.
After years and years of dedicated research, the clerics were able to recreate the hallowed parchment that, combined with the shards, opened the doors their destination. Since Mask already had a head start towards the fabled artifact within, the decision had to be made soon whether or not to give the map to the group. It would be up to Ander, as an ex-cleric of the church, to convince them that it was the only way.
Heading to their respective room located off the heavily-protected courtyard, everyone enjoyed the southern temperatures and calm breeze. It was a stark contrast to the slow chill enveloping the northern lands where the keep was constructed. The comforting breeze was interrupted only by the thought of what was going to transpire the next morning, and by the strange man who had requested their audience before they slept.
His name was Berimaan, and he asked for only a few moments of their time before allowing them some rest. The group agreed, hesitantly, and decided to listen to his plight. The man introduced himself as a cleric of Lathander, and true to his word, kept it short. He asked only that the adventurers meet him outside of Burrowshead, and that he had a potential solution to the plague called the Ancient Evil. He admitted that it was a long shot, but that he could offer the chance only once. Knowing that they would have a long day, Berimaan asked that they think about it, and to meet him on the southern slope outside of Burrowshead in 6 days. Bidding them farewell, the adventurers now had even another problem to weigh.
CHAPTER TWO - Convincing the Tribunal
The sun rose over the temple, promising to be a warm and carefree day. Carefree, at least, for the residents of Feymore. Inside the Hall of Kings, the four factions of the Tribunal sat in anticipation of the line of questioning to delivered, as much as the answers they would be provided with. Over a year since the race to open the gates of the Acropolis began, the priests had prepared for this day, the time when entrance to the mythical structure would be soon upon the lucky (or unfortunate) souls who were picked. The Iron Acropolis was a place that no one had ever entered, save for the gods themselves – it was, without question, a monumental decision. Many of the Tribunal believed that the group should be comprised entirely of holy men, given the nature of the task. That was soon dismissed however, as the Acropolis was a neutral ground representing all alignments, and the Tribunal would have nothing to do with the darker religions.
Ander stood in the center of the hall which represented a great gladiatorial arena. In front of him in imposing fashion sat the head cleric and paladin from each faction. His companions, not fit to reply to the religious inquisitions, sat in the front row of the arena, displayed below the podium where the leader sat. When the court was drawn to order, a hushed silence broken only by the occasional murmur fluttered on the air. The questioning began by asking Ander his past, and that of his friends. It quickly moved on to why he believed that they were the ones who should have this great task bestowed upon them. Eventually, it progressed into the spiritual aspect and the consequences of failure.
Long into the day went the questioning, and Ander stood fast. There were breaks for meals and contemplation, and eventually a final recess where the official vote would be had. The ex-cleric of Lathander had answered all of the inquiries, often falling back on the facts and stating that they had already done what no one else could – they obtained the 3 shards, the key. He also pointed out that he possessed the ancient barbarian weapon, forged long ago to produce the map by sheer force of battle, rage and anger. The weapon was creating as the sole means of opening the Acropolis. Because of the that, the map that the Tribunal has crafted was something the group would eventually have, given the proper time. Ander closed with a plea toward the greater good of people, hoping that the clerics could see that it was not only gods that were warring here, but that the fate of everything lay in the balance. It was that final argument that closed the questioning before they voted.
The day passed by, and in the end, the group was awarded the task. It seemed that more than half of the Tribunal saw something in them, or perhaps they had no other options. Cogon, head of Lathander’s church, offered them the decision and presented them with the map. It was, he stated, being given under the strict understanding that the Commands of the Gods be retrieved and delivered back to to the church. A “penalty of death” suffix seemed not to be necessary, given the certain gravity of the mission. With the map in hand, the group made the quick decision to travel back to their keep and investigate it carefully. The race was now on.
03
Nov
07
Darkon
Well, it’s one of those sleepless nights again. I’ve just gone through the Godfather: Part II (on cable, no less, so I was treated to 2 extra hours of commercials), Session 9, and now I’m half-watching the original Creepshow at 2 in the morning. If there is a silver lining to this cloudy night, it is this: I just saw a commercial for a independent movie called “Darkon.”
The documentary (running time 1:45) follows a group of Baltimore-based LARPers through their trials and tribulations while playing. On the commercial alone, I’m not sure if it supposed to be a mockumentary, or if there is a more serious message to be relayed (I hope not – please, people, this is LARPing we’re talking about). However, from the dialogue I did hear, they may be trying to achieve the latter – all the more reason to watch what is destined to follow in the vein of Trekkies.
With images of an over-sized cardboard monster having bean-bags thrown at him by a kid yelling “sleep!” and “lightning bolt!”, I am heartily looking forward to this. My TIVO is set. Here are some links to the gaming group’s page, and the not-so-informative movie site:
For those of you with DirecTV, the show will air on 11/12 at 9pm, Channel 550 (IFC). There will be another showing on 11/13 at 1am for you night owls. I’m not sure what channel it will be (or if it will even air) on cable, so you may want to check. Come back with your comments!
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