Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 36

It is not the sound of thunder that heralds footsteps
Nor the valor of Soldiers that bring us the rain
The mountains are not cities
The moon is no blade
And though a man is not a force
Not earth
Nor death
A man is more than blood and breath
Perhaps we are not the angels
But they rally to our call
To all the fearful
The harmed
The sullen
Look to your brothers and hear their prayers
Let their courage become your own
And the radiance of their zeal break the shadows
To us
To Avacyn

Poem by Saint Traft, penned five days before his death

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By drunkandugly | Posted in Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed
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Deadlands – Fallen Flags Episode 9

Agency Internal Dossier
Verification Code 3-18-15-23-12-5-25
Subject: Dr. R. Percy Sitgreaves, PhD (Mechanical Engineering from Columbia University)
Author: “Tom Bondsley”, Field Agent

Dr. R. Percy Sitgreaves, owner of Infinity Press (the publishers of the Smith and Robards New Science Catalog) and former R&D scientist for Smith and Robards proper, is a bit of an anomaly among modern scientists. And after all the other dossiers on the subject, that is not a claim made lightly. Not only does he practice both modern magic and modern science, he professes theories that combine the two in some way. Nonsense of course. but it seems to have aided his endeavors in both fields. I attempted to speak to some of our local scientist operatives to leverage this benefit, but they either laughed me out of the room or claimed they already knew the theory intimately, but refused to speak more on the subject because I “wouldn’t understand.” This was often followed by asking how the name was spelled. One would think subtlety would be more common among Agency operatives. Regardless, R. Percy Sitgreaves is a man of many mysteries well worth further investigation, not the least of which is what that damned R stands for.

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By drunkandugly | Posted in Deadlands, Fallen Flags
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Gobblin’ – The True Spirit of Goblin Day

It’s that time of year again (probably). When it starts getting cold, that’s when every goblin that remembers celebrates Goblin Day, a time to eat and relax and reflect on… where did we come from again?

The party lives in Mauler, a former human shopping mall where the goblins have settled inside various stores as their homes. It’s large and sturdy for what goblins are used to (compared to huts and rubble), so life has been pretty cushy here.

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By drunkandugly | Posted in Gobblin
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Tales of the Arabian Nights at Gen Con 2018

In Tales of the Arabian Nights, you are the hero or heroine in a story of adventure and wonder worthy of legend. Travel the land seeking your destiny and fortune. Along the way, you’ll encounter interesting people and strage creatures, learn stories, and gain wisdom to share with others. While there is a winner in Tales of the Arabian Nights, the game is less about seeing who wins and more about enjoying the unfolding and telling of great stories!

Enter the lands of the Arabian Nights alongside Sindbad, Scheherazade, Ali Baba, Zumurrud, and other legendary heroes. Travel the world encountering imprisoned princesses, powerful efreets, evil viziers, and marvels such as the Magnetic Mountain and the Cave of Wonders. Encounter a new creature or place every turn, but know that the choices you make will shape the rest of your travels. You might stumble upon hidden treasure and become wealthy beyond your imagination, or you could become accursed with your fate placed in the hands of another player! With an entire deck of encounter cards and the massive Book of Tales shaping how each encounter plays out, no two stories will be the same.

By drunkandugly | Posted in Non-AP
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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 35

In the memories of granite peaks and gray-green pines, Strephan Maurer was a fixture of Stensia. Not a god, though that was a word lost to the minds and lips of its people. He was a force, like the capricious wind and rains. Eternal, inexorable. Yet some people, crazy all of them, thought he could be killed.

In the Inland Valleys they wrote him off as a loss. The vampires were a menace to all, but the grace of angels could only be asked for so much. And where his domain stayed nestled in the outland valleys, away from the cities and homes that comprised much of the province. He was a bad dream, but not the nightmare the Markov or Voldaren families were. And so he was a thought for those inside.

Krezk stood resolute, recognizing his might but shying from his shadow. It was too hard to hold your ground against someone you fear. The Baron and Baroness would not be cowed however. Their voices were for their people, their prayers were within their hands, and their blood was of the mountains. They were Krezk, in name, body, and soul. But they were defenders, not warriors. And a bet was too much to take.

Still smelling of burnt Hawthorne and collared by martial law, Pallas was fraying at the seams. It had been a long time since it had been whole, unmarred by the stains of blood and dribble of sycophants. Long enough that the folk expected it. And endured it. The shell of the Wachter clan had no sway any more, and barely enough thought to contemplate their twice cursed fate. The family Martikov maintained their inn, hoping drink and passion could bring some light into this darkness. But a gentle glow does little to an abyss. And the Inquisitor Seeta feared a flash in the pan, a misleading light to drag those further into the dark like a corpse candle. That fiend was too much for anyone, despite her prayers to the otherwise. But she wanted to stand for this town and these people. A shield. An aegis. But she could only hold for so long.

And sunken below the castle’s reach was the broken town of Shadowgrange interred in the vampire’s grasp. The people there were husks, barely living their day to day. The shopkeeper had forgotten kindness, relying on foolhardy folk and need to bring him business. The priest lost to uncertainty and fear. And the man known as Ismark was worried and perplexed in the rising dawn. And in the weary hearts of those warriors of ours at the church perhaps there was uncertainty too.

But despite the pain and fear, there was still a truth: They fought off his wishes, maybe his best: And won. So here we are. The final hour. And it’s approaching dawn.

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By drunkandugly | Posted in Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed
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