Oneshot: The Dead Enders

Còigeamh 3-4, 6639 (about 4 months before the current events)

Party: ...unknown?

Around town, a number of people began to awaken...

A young woman awoke, pain washing over her. She had fallen through the roof of a barn, and though her helmet saved her life, it hadn't saved her life. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she managed to remove the chunk of wood from her face and stop the bleeding, but her eye was long gone. Once she rested, she was able to find her sword, and make a dress from some cloth. Hearing footsteps outside, she quickly left, hoping to find healing at the medical clinic up the street.

Scared, hiding in the dark, a young mortician - Jesper Sharpe - listened to two men as they argued with his boss, then murdered him. Gathering a set of armor, and the coins from a dead man's eyes, Jesper fled to the safety of his friend's shop - George Weapon, a dwarf. The dwarf suited up in armor and grabbed a massive hammer, but by the time they returned, the murderers were gone... as was the corpse!

Who, only minutes before, had sat up with a groan. Again, with no memory, he grabbed what he could, and tried to run to the church for help. The church was locked; turning, he found the front entrance of Mr. Lloyd's Mortuary and Clinic. Inside was the body of the proprietor, and naught but a tangle of medical tools on the ground, scattered through his blood. A single footprint marked the killer's passage. Through the door, he ran into an angry dwarf and a shaking mortician; and, in the middle of arguing with the two, a young woman entered the shop, still in some pain, and seeking medical attention...

A thief gingerly sat up, trying not to jostle his aching head; his "friends" from the thieves' guild had tried to murder him, but did a rather bad job of it. Not that he knew that, the blow from behind had ended his memory. Finding a knife and a note, he stumbled to his feet and wandered down the hill, to check out the barn. Inside, he searched around, seeing a few footprints, and high above... a helmet, impaled on a beam, with a shred of cloth fluttering in the breeze. Looks like someone took a tumble through the roof. He searched the hay, and found a sword - and as nice as it looked, it wasn't, because it zapped him, badly! Leaving it, he wandered into the pub across the street.

Meanwhile, a cleric of a dark god came to, and fell off his chair with a crash. He spent a few minutes trying to remember where and who he was; the potion he had imbibed was meant to kill him, but he managed to survive, losing only his memory. Shrugging, and gathering a broken chair leg to use as a weapon, he decided to head to the pub. Why not?

The third actor in this play is undoubtedly the saddest. Awakening in immense pain, the once-guardsman drank his last health potion, stabilizing himself, though at the cost of his memories. The stroke he had left permanent damage that would never be healed. His memory gone, he could only struggle into his old armor, and go in search of answers. He reached the Mangy Cow the same time a handsome young man, clothed in plate, arrived. The barkeep, recognizing the old man, greeted him by name. "Hey, Burl! You don't look so good..."

He poured some ale, and handed it to the fellow, refusing payment. "You can always drink here for free, good man. You've earned it."

Behind them, a smelly fellow wearing a hyena-skin jacket wandered in. The barkeep frowned. "You, however, pay double."

The thief saw a young woman, who introduced herself as "Sin" - short for Cynthi, the name on his note, perhaps? "What? Cynthia? That witch!?! No! It's short for Sinda'alellechna, my great-grandmother's name!"

The well-armored man set off for the inn; the old man followed, and the thief brought up the rear. They arrived just as another unlikely three were heading upstairs to their rooms - a thin, pale man, a frightened mortician, and an injured woman, missing an eye, but still carrying a sword.

The group retired for the night. In the morning, the thief went for a stroll, looking for some nicer clothes with all the money he had. Walking past the thieves' guild, he was recognized by the two members, who attempted to kill him again. They failed, and lost their lives for the trouble... but he gained a few more knives, a bow, and a handful of arrows, so there's that, right?

Back at the inn, they met with the others. Confessing they had lost their memories, they began working together to find out what was going on. The only clue they had was the thief's note, which lead them to a woman named Cynthia. Still wondering what the sword did, the thief suggested the well-armored fellow try it out. The armored man, reaching to pick it up, felt a jolt of energy, twice as powerful as the one the thief had felt; he nearly fainted, then and there! Dropping the sword, he suggested no one ever do that again.

The group moved to the church, to speak with the vicar; the cleric felt a case of the willies upon entering, and the vicar demanded the ex-corpse leave immediately. He kept his eye on the thief, but reacted with surprise and happiness upon meeting the swordswoman. They seemed to share a connection of some kind. That symbol of the church - a rising sun or starburst - seemed familiar...

Recognizing the design from the sword, the thief suggested the woman try it out. As she lifted it, a flood of warmth and happiness suffused her. Not only was this sword her own, but she could wield two swords at once!

The six descended on Cynthia's. Distracting some guards, they allowed the thief to slip around behind, where he found Cynthia! He threw a knife at her, and she returned in kind a magic missile, and the battle was begon in earnest. The two guards at the front went through the building; the party ran around the sides, charging in. The ex-corpse, having cast a spell into his weapon, swung at the first guard. His blade cut deep, tearing the mail, then blasting the female warlock, her imp familiar, and the other guard with burning fire! The first guard crumpled to the ground, dead, as the others - ineffectually - swung and missed. Cynthia fired another magic missile, striking the thief again, but then the greataxe of the Ruinguard - for that is what he truly was - sliced again, the blade passing through her familiar, the other guard, and finally embedding in Cynthia's spine.

Cynthia dealt with, the party moved into the shed, where they found a great cauldron, guarded by a young girl. The girl took the arm of the Ruinguard, and began to lead him out, but the mortician - really an Ectomancer - began casting a spell, and she changed form. No longer a little girl, but a desert ghoul! All but the ruinguard were paralyzed in shock; she clawed at him, but her touch was not paralyzing, oddly. The others shook themselves from their shock and attacked, the old guard finally stabbing a hole cleanly through the ghoul.

Outside, two more foes were waiting: a bulky barbarian fellow, and a pale-skinned man in a cloak. Between them was Lt. Mangrave, of the city guard - and Cynthia's lover. The fight began as the barbarian began to shift into a werewolf...

Mangrave managed but a single strike before he was brought down. The blade-dancer, two swords flashing, struck down the werewolf, and together, they brought down the cloaked man - a vampire! The cleric struck last, jamming his broken chair leg into the heart of the foul creature, and in a moment, the campire was naught but ash on the wind.

They turned to the casualty - the old guardsman, fired for doing what was right, now struck down by the vampire. A good death, after a long life, full of hardships...

The ruinguard's memory came back slowly. He remembered a conversation; the men who had kidnapped him had said they were going to control him, then swap him for someone he looked like - a lord's son. However, he was that man! The son of a lord of Zahar, sent to earn his battle-scars.

The thief was part of it from the beginning; he had kidnapped the young lordling, and his "friends" turned on him, hoping to be paid more for it. The cleric, too, had assisted with the ritual in bringing the dead man to life again, though none had counted on the man having a bloodline from ancient Zahar, and becoming not only more powerful, but retaining his independance.

The guard, old and tired, had overheard the plot, and tried to stop it, and was fired for his troubles. His suffered a stroke because of it.

The young Ectomancer, Jesper, learned his true calling from his master; his master had put in a call for help from the church...

...Who sent the blade-dancer to investigated. Pursued by corrupt guards, she hid on top of Mr. Bodb's barn, only to fall through the roof. The injury damaged her brain; while she eventually remembered most of her life, there were always parts that would escape her.

Finally, the cleric never really got his memory back. While a simple Neutralize Poison would have sufficed, he never really got around to figuring that out.

That leaves only the black cauldron, the tool of the enemy, to account for. But, I think, its story may not quite be told...

The Temple of Thul-Gaal

So, last week I had a dream. No, seriously, it was a real dream of GMing an RPG. The rules were a bit fast and light, and there weren't any dice rolls... more of an interactive cinematic sort of thing. But that's beside the point. I have, in the course of the last week or so, come up with the beginnings of a one-shot. Or some-shot. A short campaign.

When I first started writing it all down, I was pretty excited - this would fit into the current campaign, and be a lot of fun. For me. Because I would kill everyone. I realized that maybe, just maybe... that wouldn't be fun for everyone else. So, I took a step back, and decided that I would tweak a few things so it would become a one-shot, where people wouldn't care if their characters get absolutely slaughtered.

Now, I still have some tweaks left, and a few puzzles to work through, which is perfect, because you guys have some work to do, too. You need to make up some characters.

Your character must follow these guidelines:

• Roll up character stats
  • Roll 3d6, five times, to make a column of stats; repeat to make 5 total columns
  • Choose a column; you may use the chosen stat column in any order
  • You may trade 2 points from a non-primary stat to add 1 to a primary stat
• Choose a character - any character class from the original list
• Your character starts with:
  • 620,000 XP
  • 815,000 gp
• You may trade gold for:
  • Normal equipment, mounts, etc.
  • Any magical item, at its base price
  • A chance for random magical items
    • Trade 1,000gp for a 15% chance of two magic items of a random type.
    • Trade 3,000gp for a 25% chance for a weapon or armor, a 25% chance for a potion, and a 10% chance for a miscellaneous magic item.
    • Trade 10,000gp for a 50% chance for four randomly determined magic items, one random potion, and one random scroll.
    • Trade 30,000gp for 1d4 random potions, 1d4 random scrolls, and a 50% chance for six randomly determined magic items.
    • Trade 100,000gp for 2d4 random potions, 2d4 random scrolls, and a 75% chance for each of the following: 1d3 swords, 1d3 armor, 1d3 miscellaneous weapons, 1d3 wands/staffs/rods, 1d3 rings, and 1d3 miscellaneous magic items.
    • Note: You may trade a (random) scroll or potion for two (random) recipes.
    • If you have the core rulebook, you can roll up your own magical items; however, I have a spreadsheet that does it instantly, so if you want to trade for magic items, let me know and I can do it automatically. If you want to trade scrolls/potions for recipes, tell me before hand, so I can roll recipes instead.
  • As many henchmen as you'd like
    • Roll up each henchman as a character
    • Trade 1 gp for 1 XP (a henchman with 100,000 XP costs 100,000 gp)
    • While henchmen can have henchmen, you cannot exceed the number of henchman your character is allowed in total (4, plus Charisma bonus, plus any proficiency bonus)
  • Creating magical items, new spells, ritual spells, constructs, etc.
    • To create a magical item (etc.), you must:
      • Purchase a library
      • Spend the money for the item/scroll/potion
      • Make any rolls required for research, etc.
      • Note: failed rolls still use money!
• Mages and other studious casters begin with 50% of their spell list generated randomly, and the rest chosen.
  • Researched spells (see above) count as a chosen spell
  • If you want to replace a randomly chosen spell, it costs 1,000 gp per spell level to replace; you may choose any spell you have as a scroll or recipe.
  • If you do not have the spell as a scroll, it costs an additional 500 gp per spell level to buy the spell. Only spells in the spell list may be purchased; spells not on the spell list must be researched (see above).
• Wishes will be neutered for this one-shot. They are allowed to be cast as any spell, or the reverse of any spell, instantly; they also allow a character to be resurrected, returned from another dimension, or cured of an affliction (insanity, possessed hand, etc.), but they cannot be used as an open-ended "true wish".

Whew! What a list! If you have any questions, let me know. I'll wait to run the one-shot until everyone has a character rolled up, spells and all. Also, if you want to roll up any number of backup characters, that would be awesome. I'll have some upper-level characters created, probably, so nobody is left out, but if you want to make your own backups, go for it.

Long ago, in a land far away, an ancient temple was built in the wastelands...

The temple belonged to an ancient race, the Thrassians, cruel, dark creatures, with scaly skin and terrible claws, with great leathery wings and horrible sharp teeth. These Thrassians ruled the land with iron fists, but like all terrible rulers, they were vanquished, and their ways were lost to history.

These days, the Thrassians of old are but legends; stories told by old soldiers to frighten the new recruits, and told by parents to get their children to bed or to eat their vegetables.

Nonetheless, the stories (at least most of them) are true. And, deep in the Desert of the Dead, our heroes gather to face the greatest threat these ancient monsters ever built: the Temple of Thul-Gaal. Undead - and worse - prowl its dark hallways, and magical traps pervert the very earth on which the temple stands. The tower is hidden behind a ridge of mountains; inside is an ancient volcanic desert, devoid of life. During the day, wind blows through the desert and shifts the sands, obscuring the path to the temple, but never burying the temple itself; that site juts out of the landscape like the hellish claw of an enormous demon...

Few have returned from the voyage; the dizzying heat, the blinding dust, and the unforgiving rocks have claimed countless lives. Only those who turn back from the temple's gates have survived, and even those have faced staggering casualties. No one who has entered the temple has returned to tell the tale.

Even so... stories persist of a treasure in the temple, unimaginable wealth. For ages, adventurers lost their lives in pursuit of that treasure; soldiers, mages, clerics, and thieves left and never returned. And yet, they must; as the adventurers stop coming, the undead grow restless. Like a cat sharpening its claws, if there are no adventurers to lay them to rest, the undead creep forth, raiding villages and destroying lives and livelihoods. It has come to the point that those nearest the temple feel they must step in and destroy the temple, or die in the attempt...

One-shot: Rise of the Beastmen: The Generals

Near the end of the Age of Men, mages began magically combining men, dwarves, and even elves with beasts. Generation after generation of beast-men were created. Some, like halflings, were quite peaceful, and served as farmers, or other peaceful work. Others, like goblins, were savage creatures, employed as laborers or soldiers. As the original, somewhat more lawful mages died off, their secrets were aquiered by others. The peaceful combinations were left on their own, while the more feral beast-types were combined and combined again. Though countless combinations were created, certain archtypes seemed to be the most successful: goblins, hobgoblins, bugbears, orcs, orgres, kobolds, gnolls, and so on; the beastmen known and feared today. These armies gathered materials for their masters, ransacking villages and pillaging farms. As beastmen were released or escaped, more and more wild beastmen roamed free, which meant the armies increased to fend them off, which meant more beastmen escaped, and on and on. As the second generation of creature-splicing mages died off, a third generation arose. Hungry for power, these mages has none of the restraint of their old masters. The new masters created monstrosities, horrors of necromancy and unholy power, powerful and untamed. They reached too far, and the edges of their control began to slip. But still, power-mad, they churned out beastmen...

One Shot: Rise of the Beastmen: Battle for the North

My kids, ages 7 and 9, have been begging me to play an RPG with them; having a few free days around Christmas, I finished fleshing out a bit of lore, and built a one-shot campaign for them. It, too, is set in this world, a few short years before the age of the beastmen truly begins. It's a bit long, as it was actually three sessions, stuck in between shopping, presents, and general holiday spirit.

The Emissaries

It is the year 3781, 7 years before the Wall of Mareten is completed, and 19 years before the Age of the Beastmen. The Council of Five - that is, the top diplomats of the Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Halflings, and Gnomes - called two of its last heroes to begin what may be the most important mission of the century. Beastmen activity was increasing; incursions were digging further into civilized territory than ever before. The Elves (that is, the True Elves) in the West were pressed to the breaking point; already, the southern city had closed its gates. Roads were not safe. Worse, rumors began to filter in of a danger to the North. If the Northern Tribes were conquered, their precious knowledge would be lost.

Thus, the Council summoned Gimli Thorson, Dwarvish Craftpriest, and Evindal Elaric, Elven Enchanter, to begin a perilous journey to warn the people of the north.

One-Shot: Ancient History: The Dwarves

The first in what may well be a series of glimpses into the past; a reliving of the origin of Dwarves.

Prologue: A Book Is Found

In the hidden city of the gnomes, while the others were off digging up a great scale, Llarm decided to take a look in the library. The gnomish library is, in fact, one of the greatest libraries in Mor-Thir, provided you have a Stack Guide. Llarm poked about, and with his innate Librarian skills, discovered a small secret area. Inside, he found an ancient book - not even a book, but a carefully carved slab of stone, covered in runes. Bound to it with a strap of leather was a scroll, written in Mountain Dwarf. With the help of Groin, Llarm deciphered the scroll. On it was written the following tale: