Ill Met in Marlankh

The following was found written on a crumpled piece of paper on the floor of the Blue Rabbit.

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It has come to my attention that a number of erstwhile companions have published their accounts of this tale in one form or another.  Unfortunately for both the general public and me, these uncouth scoundrels have spread naught but lies and balderdash.  Therefore, I am moved to set down my own version.  I will present the facts of the matter as plainly as possible in order that the truth might speak for itself.

I had been summoned to Marlankh by a few violent men that aided my scholarship in the past.  Sadly, the life of a diabolist is not without peril, and it often behooves me to align myself with a less savory sort.  They explained that they needed the services of one skilled in the Black Arts and that no one other than myself would do.  I graciously acquiesced, hoping that whatever task they needed me for would lead to my further edification.

I am not afraid to say, gentle reader, that the mission they wished to undertake was a kidnapping.  I am not a proud man, and if my studies in Toledo taught me anything it is that one should not be afraid to get one's hands dirty.  The reason for this kidnapping was somewhat obscure to me.  The best I can put together is that one of my fellow rogues wished to rid himself of his wife and in so doing gain access to precious lucre at the expense of his father-in-law.

It is in this matter, that is to say the matter of the mark, that things became more complicated.  You see, the woman in question was a vision of loveliness such as I had never seen before in all of my travels.  Her passion for the study of human anatomy and the more subtle ways in which it can be manipulated rivals only mine, and her eyes' fiendish intelligence set my heart alight.  I knew that I must have her!  I would perform my part, but only up to a point.  Rather than release her to her scheming father and her oafish husband, I would take her for myself and whisk her away to Wessex where we might live in happiness.

At first everything seemed to be going according to my plan.  Through subtle use of my own magics we were able to spirit her away to a finely appointed manor house I had procured in order that she might be comfortable while we practiced our extortion.  I am sad to relate that while doing so I had to hide my appearance and wash off some of my distinctive odor that has been the delight of women around the world.  I, Philip the Black, will do anything in the name of love.

It was my companions' job to actually secure the money; however, their general incompetence and slow minds made them fail in even this relatively simple task.  I suppose it is not entirely their fault, for it seems the father had little care for the fate of his lovely daughter.  The fool!  How can these men not appreciate one so beautiful and marvelous as she?  I am sickened by the mere thought that she now is with these imbeciles.

But I am getting ahead of myself.  When it became apparent that we were not going to receive any money, my companions reverted to their violent natures.  The clown was the worst of the lot, but it must be said that all of them were united in their murderous intent.  It was only when I threatened them with powerful magics and reminded them of my compact with Satan that they ceased.  It was decided that we would release the fair lady in some back alley.  I feared for her safety, but even though my threatening had worked I knew that the combined might of these viscous criminals would be able to stop me from saving her.

And so she was released to run back to the arms of two men who care not for her.  Damn them!  Now in exile, I must pine for her from afar.  I take solace only in the fact that Satan's eight eyes watch over me, and that with his aid I will one day take her away from her moronic husband and bless her with many, many children.

New Poll for FLAILSNAILers

I'm curious to see what levels the existing FLAILSNAILS characters are.  So I put up a poll.

Monster Monday: Groans

Groans
No. Appearing: 1d4
Armor Class: 16
Hit Dice: 5+5
Move: 90'
Attacks: 1 (claw 1d12)
Morale: 7
Alignment: Neutral

Groans are immense anthropophagi that lurk in the benighted forests of the Dark Country.  They appear as immense bulks roughly 10' in height that terribly combine the aspects of both men and trees.  They stalk through the forest searching for their favorite food: man-flesh.

Groans loathe humans but love their meat.  Their hatred comes primarily from the practice of farming, which groans feel is the equivalent of genocide or slavery.  To the groan, digesting any vegetable matter is murder.  This is not to say that groans are moralists, for they are slow witted creatures whose primary pleasures in life involve disemboweling human victims.

In their natural environment, groans are incredibly stealthy.  When in a forest at night, they surprise opponents on a 1-5 on 1d6.  They will occasionally parley with potential meals, but only if it is very clear that the party in question has not recently eaten fruits or vegetables.  Otherwise, they will attempt to devour any humans or demihumans they see on sight.  Even if there is no evidence that the party in question has eaten any vegetable matter, on a reaction roll of Uncertain or worse the Groan assumes they have and attacks anyway.

Groans fear fire and they fear the sun even more.  Groans always take full damage from fire-based attacks and always catch fire if that result is possible.  When hit by the rays of the Sun, a groans feet bury deep into the ground and the groan becomes little more than a dried up dead tree.  It is said that the White Lady knows the ancient magic by which these trees can be turned back into groans, but most woodsmen agree this is a rare event.  It is also the general consensus that this solar problem, combined with their general slow-wittedness and their small numbers, that keep the groans from attempting to stamp out all of human civilization.

What the West is Like

Stealing from Jack yet again.

The West

Precis: Petty lords feud and scheme against each other while dark things lurk in the woods;  A Game of Thrones meets Averoigne

Conspectus: Four (?) kingdoms: the Iron Kingdom, the Realm (Holy Roman Empire), the County of Averoigne (France), and the Kingdom of Kars (England); tournaments with painted lances still take the lives of foolish nobles; poachers and bandits hunting the king's deer; court wizards; competing high pontiffs fight over the Church of Law through poison and proxies; ancient, pagan shrines that still hold some measure of magic and terrible monsters; trial by combat; chivalry and courtly love side by side with treachery and rape; plague and famine; peasant revolts; witch burnings; constant, but petty, warfare; bloody dynastic struggles; cheap death; troubadours sing and spy for monarchs and counts; foolhardy knights ride out to slay dragons and other local monsters; knightly orders; dancing banners splashed in blood; secret, heretical cults plot the downfall of the Church; burning fields and cattle raids; self-made men who gain position through fire and sword; boar hunts and great feasts; wilding and robber barons

Taste, Sound, Image: Cassoulet and hard cider, Pentangle "The Hunting Song," the Morgan/Maciejowski Bible

What Castle Drakenstein is Like

Once again stealing from Jack.

Precis: A funhouse megadungeon run by a horror host.  Mummies, vampires, werewolves, aliens, and human flies all rub shoulders in Frankenstein's lab.

Conspectus: The more-or-less ruined Castle Drakenstein is home to a foppish, capricious lich whose only pleasure in life comes through torturing adventurers; peasants fear to tread in the shadow of the tower; caverns contain fog-bound, haunted forests where the moon is always full; mad scientists have moved in to conduct their hideous experiments; an ancient pharaoh's tomb has been rebuilt, stone by stone, and filled with the appropriate Egyptian horrors; satanic cults hold metal concerts; medusa heads!; Atomic horror monsters made by Frankenstein; technicolor dungeon lighting; regular monsters forced to dress and act the part by the insane Baron;  lots and lots of terrible puns

Taste, Sound, Image: Movie popcorn and Coca-Cola, The Cramps "God Monster," Tales from the Crypt (TV show or comics, your pick).

The Seven Cities: Lychgate

Lychgate is one of the more powerful of the Seven Cities, and it's position at the edge of the Long Swamp, where the Lesser Dark and River Deep merge into the Dark River, makes enables its magnates to control almost all the trade in the Dark Country.  The skyline is dominated by the Cathedral of St. Gax Lawgiver that was originally built when the Sword Brothers founded the city.  

The cathedral does not resemble its Western counterparts, rather it appears more like an enormous version of the fortified churches established by the Sword Brothers throughout the Dark Country and the Desert Lands.  It is squat but bulky, and a combination of defensive towers and the city's inner wall make the cathedral an imposing sight for those new to the city.  The other buildings are mostly in the typical Western style of wood and whitewash.  They huddle together next to twisting streets, their roofs obscuring the sky in some of the slummier districts.  Fire is a common problem, but not common enough to prevent Notker from publicly burning "Enemies of the Law" in the various squares.

The farms and thorps that lie in its shadow are some of the few truly settled areas in the Dark Country.  Still, a trip to the Long Swamp or a day’s ride to the Witchwood would quickly dispel any sense of civilization one might have within the city walls.  The majority of the populace within the walls are middle and upper class merchants as well as exiled nobles and priests from the West.  The peasants whose farms dot the surrounding countryside cannot afford the 2gp per leg entry tax required to entry the city.  Froglings too are forced to remain outside the walls, though this is because of the bigoted zeal of the Bishop.

"SOMEONE TAKE DOWN THAT SIGN!"

Lychgate, like all of the Seven Cities, is very much defined by the man who rules it.  Notker the Unshaven is the worst sort of bishop: officious, domineering, irritable, and most of all loud.  He has recently sustained a number of personal insults that he believes originated from a secret Satanic society bent on obstructing the will of the Law.  While his lieutenants and cronies do not share his paranoid suspicions, they know that to keep their positions they must find suitable scapegoats in order that Notker might vent his rage at someone other than themselves.

His chief lieutenant and marshal, Lord Eckhard, was recently sent away from the city to serve as the "governor" of Nightwick Village.  The Bear is a grumbler, but his sense of duty and his fear of the Bishop's anger made him go.  In his absence, Bader the Badger -- the leader of Bader's Boys, a mercenary company with low moral standards -- has filled the void left by Eckhard.  He lacks the scruples of his predecessor and is both a sycophant and a sociopath.  In his zeal to please Notker the Unshaven he has butchered many an innocent.

Notker's suspicions are not entirely without cause.  While the other cities have mostly stamped out paganism within the shadow of their walls, the Bishop's overzealous pursuit of enemies has galvanized those who might otherwise have been converted.  The people whisper of a messianic figure named Yim Yimsley who will overthrow the tyrannical Church of Law and return the people of the Dark Country to the Old Ways.  None know his true identity. Some say that he is not truly one man, but several who take up the moniker whenever the innocent people of the Dark Country are threatened.

New Blog You Should Check Out

Have you ever seen that Cole or Welcome to Dungeon! guy in the comments of a blog post or on G+ and thought "that dude is sharp?"  Well that's because he is.

Anyway, he has a blog now.  Go read it.