A place wherein this Dwarven Cleric can share his love of maps, dice, miniatures, and all things involving gaming and general geekery--not to mention the occasional witty non-gaming observations--whilst escaping from the humdrum existence of his routine Terran existence.
Hail and Well Met, fellow traveler! May my Stronghold provide a place for enlightenment and amusement, and somewhere to keep your dice dry. Enter and rest awhile.
This small hut is nestled among six ancient standing stones. Each stone bears a different rune and stands on a small hillock, as if thurst up from within the earth. One stone has toppled and several are cracked. The ring itself is surrounded on three sides by a steep cliff; the approach is a sloping path lined by dressed stones.
No one knows who built this haven for weary travelers. The well and corral are well-maintained, the wood pile never runs out, and the outhouse is always clean and decorated with fresh pine boughs. (There are no pine trees for miles around.) Inside, a wood stove heats the room in cold weather; snow never falls on the hilltop despite its height. Seven cots are maintained and there is room on the floor for additional bed rolls.
Although comfortable, guests seldom spend more than a couple nights; reports of strange events and noises abound, as if the unseen owner discouraged long-term stays.
This offer is good until midnight Sunday (13 November 2016), Hawaii-Aleutian Time.
I'm getting to this a bit late because of the new day job...but better late than never! Hence, the extension of the offer through the weekend!
I have a soft spot in my heart for veterans. A big soft spot. I've got plenty of them in my family, and even more among my friendsw and acquaintances. Regardless or relation (or no) I am so grateful to all of them for their service and sacrifices; I cannot begin to imagine the experience.
To honor those veterans out there, I'd like to offer copies of any of the first three issues of The Stronghold 'Zine ABSOLUTELY FREE to any veterans out there. For those who aren't aware, or for those who want to pass the offer along, The Stronghold 'Zine is in the vein of an old-school fanzine, and is a mixture of 3.x/PFRPG and edition-neutral materials. A little bit of crunch, a little bit of flavor, and a lot of fantasy gaming goodness.
Just drop me a line at blue.moon.ink.press@gmail.com and let me get some copies out to you as a way to thank you for your service.
Potoel makes pies. Pies and sausage. His wares are known throughout the city for their delicious taste and unique spices. Potoel developed his recipes while in the Wars against the city-state of Berl. Unknown to any, the Wars also turned Potoel into a high-functioning ghoul.
Upon returning home, he opened his shop selling meat pies he bakes on the premesis and sausages he makes in his basement. His wife left him soon after he opened the shop; at least, that's what he claims.
In his sub-basement, he keeps a baker's dozen of "fresh" sources: the city's beggars and hopeless are kidnapped and kept here until he's ready for a new batch. The occasional wealthy citizen appears there once in a while too.
It's true what they say: the less people know about what goes into their sausage, the better they'll sleep at night.
Yup. My life has finally calmed down a little bit. I'm between real-world deadlines and I've started a new job (and potentially new career). It's not much, but I'm hoping it will let me get back and finish Inktober, albeit a few weeks late.
Quagmire Springs
(Key word: slow)
Despite the spring technically being "freshwater" the water springs from its source rife with a murky, oily substance as wee as a noxious green fungus. The resultant "water" is dank and vile; its viscosity causes the spring to flow slow and thick down the natural slope to pool at the bottom, where it slowly drains out.
The "water" can be lighted on fire as if it was oil; if imbibed it can temporarily grant an increase to Strength (an effect of the fungus) and Charisma (from awe and disbelief that anyone would be bold enough to actually drink the fluid). When the effects wear off, the individual suffers a temporary Dexterity and Constitution loss from the resulting sickness.
O.K. I'm now in the process of playing catch-up. A couple of real-life deadlines are kicking my butt, but I'm determined to see this through, even if I have to bleed into November just a bit.
Here's the offering for Day 22:
Brownleaf's Cottage
(Key word: little)
Brownleaf is a pixie druid, who fancies himself an artist. He has crafted himself a home in a discarded snail shell in Elkhole Forest.
Entry Hall: Brownleaf keeps most of his weapons and armor here.
Rumpus Room: used for entertaining, games, sport, etc., as well as his studio.
Gallery: Brownleaf keeps his favorite artistic works here.
Storage/Dining: used for both storage and informal dining.
Located in an enormous knob of granite jutting up in the middle of the Sanktar Plains is the arean of the Gonk Ogre tribe.
Two massive stone slabs serve as doors. Inside a narrow (relatively) walkway rings a steep pit. The pit is littered with stones, tree branches, and bones.
The pit serves as a place to resolve challenges and duels, as well as a place of punishment. The tribe will also bring in warriors of other races for entertainment.
The knob is nearly fifty feet tall and the pit another twenty-five feet below the surface. The victors are aided from the pit by means of a rope ladder. The dead rot where they fall.
The Drake, Quirinklauth, has amassed a tremendous hoard of treasure in his cliff-top lair. Quirinklauth enters through a small cave that leads to a hole in the top of a one thousand-foot-high subterranean dome.
Other creatures must enter through the winding, narrow passageway; the passage is so narrow, in fact—sometimes narrowing to only a few feet—that human-sized creatures can only proceed at a fraction of normal speed. The passage is also, on average, only three- to four feet tall.
The hoard in the domed cavern is dozens of feet deep, and includes weapons, armor, gems, and coins, as well as art objects. The items are both mundane and magical
The brainchild of the mad Gnome mage, Seglik Glitterfoot, the Voidkeeper is a one-of-a-kind transport.
In addition to Captain (self-appointed) Seglik and his first mate, a female human ranger named Kaet, the Voidkeeper's crew consists of five other mages, a cleric, and crew—an assortment of rangers and fighters.
Suspended from a balloon of delver-skin containing harnessed arcane plasma, the airship has a mage-powered stern propeller for movement. The crew transports goods and people...but is not above a bit of piracy.
Two open decks—one on each side—are dubbed "Mage decks" and are enclosed only by a low railing. The Mage decks are used for the Voidkeeper's defense as well as offensive capabilities.
Brom, a human druid, is well-known in the Sanktar Plains. A hermit, he keeps to himself and guards his privacy jealously Despite his powers, he prefers to flee fro confrontation if possible.
Escape #1: a secret door leads from behind his bed to a passage headed northwest, running west for a mile through the rock.
Escape #2: a passage leads from E1 to a rough-hewn spiral stairway leading to a hidden oasis on the top of the bluff, 500' above the Plains.
Escape #3: a trapdoor beneath the flagstone floor leads north to Brom's storage room. A narrow door and stairs makes for an excellent defensible position.
Escape #4: a passage from E3 and from the northeast wall of the hovel lead to a two-mile-long passage through the rock to the southeast.
A millennia ago, on the fields of Idet-hur, an epic battle took place between two Armies of the Elves. The followers of Queen Kaiannathas and those of King Nyounus met; shields and spears crashed together, swords and arrows flashed in the sunlight. Day after day, week after week, until all lay dead or mortally wounded. Time made barrows of the bodies; grass became their shrouds.
Sample treasure (in addition to coins and mundane items):
High above the Ketchum Forest is a meandering trail, which leads to a cave complex behind the grand Ketchum Falls.
The entry to these caves is blocked by a crude iron portcullis, raised by a winch. The portcullis was installed by a band of outlaws led by a half-orc named Joax. The band includes several humans, a half-elf, a dwarf, and a halfling, as well as Joax's Mate, Kedra.
The edge of the main cavern is perpetually wet, slick from the spray of the falls. One wrongly placed step could mean a quick and steep death.
No one knows who else has used the outpost, and for what purposes. Rumor has it, however, that it's haunted.
After my self-described flagstone disaster—seen here—I sought out the advice of +Dyson Logos and +matt jackson about their flagstones...or at least, their pens. Local office supply stores didn't carry any of their recommended styles, so I figured I'd have to shop online.
Then, when I dropped my wife off at school tonight, I thought I'd stop by the college bookstore and check out their pen selection.
BINGO.
I not only found the Pilot Razors that Matt recommended, they had a huge line of Microns. They also had a line of "Le Pen" micro fine pens. The drool started. Unfortunately, all I had on me at the time was a couple bucks, so I grabbed a Pilot and two REALLY small Le Pens. If I get these to work, I'll go back for a Micron or two; the college had them priced twice the amount of either of the other pens. (I want to make sure I can actually make the things do what I want to before paying Micron money. Or, local-college-Micron-money.)
Now...gonna go down some migraine meds and take these puppies out for a spin.
And try to figure out where to get the same level of talent as Dyson and Matt. I know the pens are only a tool.
In case you had forgotten, payday has come around again.
And just in time! Another shipment has gone out, with another stack being prepped and readied for mailing.
Mailing to YOU. Yes, YOU. Right there. I'm talking to you. All you have to do is ask me.
As ever, you can see a preview of the contents here. You can still pick up copies of Issues #1 and #2 as well here. --OR-- click on the link below to go ahead and buy #3 and get your copy (or copies) in the mail ASAP.
When you do pick up a copy, please drop me a line, especially if you use anything from Issue #3—or any issue—in your game.
Gah. This post means I'm all caught up for the mid-point of Inktober.
This also represents my attempts at drawing flagstones a la +Dyson Logos-style. I don't think it worked. I think I'll need to bribe him or +matt jackson for some tips.
The Waystation
(Key word: relax)
Located on the edge of the brown sands of the Sanktar Plains, the Waystation is the last safe place of rest for many miles. Manned by a human ranger named Mal, strangers will find three cots and a couple of coal stoves for warmth. A few supplies are also available for a charge.
Under the flagstones, however, are accommodations for friends. Several more cots, a secured secret room for valuables; the cavern is heated by a magical rune, which also provides light to those rooming here.
The river feeding the Waystation's well also provides a means for secret shipments to the small pier as well as an escape route if needed.
The Elven princess Kyro Timesong established her own tree-home following an argument with her mother, the Queen.
Kyro took with her several of the royal servants, her personal guard, and even a few of the lesser nobles. Her little sister, Evthi, went with her in an effort to establish her own independence.
The many-layered system of platforms are joined by ladders, bridges, and stairways, weaving among the massive splayed limbs of the ancient ironoak tree. Kyro's guard are well-skilled with both the bow and the sword.
In the middle of the Sanktar Plains stands a tall, solitary knob of rock. As one enters the cavern and follows the steep, curving slope, the actual shrine is reached.
Legend says that Banael himself was last seen within this shrine and that it was his touch that released the flow of dark viscous ooze in the fountain.
The ooze and the altar radiate fear—crippling to most mortal creatures. Dread builds as a creature climbs the sloping passage. A hideous statue of Banael stands in the shrine.
The Worried Goat is a tavern in Northeast Coldtreath. There is no inn; no rooms are available—this is an eating, drinking, and entertainment establishment only. Information, of course, costs extra.
A good-sized stage plays host to medium- to high-level entertainers of all types. Daan Steele tends bar and doles out information from behind a large ironwood bar that wraps around the kitchen.
Outside, a wooden outbuilding shelters the stairway into the small storage cellar.
There are three entrances to the cave complex. Two come in from the South, from the mountainside. The West entrance joins to a secret door from the lean-to belonging to Rog, the crazy Hermit of the Hill.
The complex is guarded by two massive iron golems.
The portal itself is burined far into the complex, behind a well-hidden secret door that is securely locked and thrice-trapped.
No one knows where the portal leads. Occasionally a gold bar or a bag of silver ore will appear on the steps in front of the shimmering doorway. Not a single adventurer who has ventured through the portal has ever returned.
Fifty years ago, Prince Tetaros fell in love with a peasant woman named Joari Pinlean. They carried on a romance in secret for over a year; when Tetaros told his parents, the King and Queen reacted predictably. They put their feet down. Hard.
Unfortunately for the couple, their love was real. They ignored the Royal edict and married in secret. After two months, a royal heir was conceived. Despite their efforts, the King and Queen learned of the marriage.
Royal assassins were sent to resolve the issue. Tetaros helped Joari elude the assassins; she fled to a small mountain overlook, nearly 1100 feet above the royal preserves. The assassins raced after her; Tetaros followed after. He caught up with them in time to see her jump to her death rather than face the assassins. He pushed his way through the assassins and followed his true love over the edge.
Their ghosts still reenact the chase and the jump to this day.
The mystical sky-island of Farth is the homeland of the Sky Elves. One majestic stone span anchors and connects Farth with the Swifthalm Mountains: the Bridge of Mists. A century ago, a massive army made up of ogres, orcs, and goblins—led by General Thawn Orcheart himself—laid siege to Farth, catapults launching massive stones into Farth. Many struck the Bridge of Mists, dislodging and pulverizing the 20-cubic-foot stones that make up the span, sending defenders and citizens plunging into the Mists, never to be seen again.
Eventually the siege failed and the army was driven off, but at a great cost. The Sky Elves no longer possess the arcane knowledge to successfully repair the bridge, at least sufficiently to make it safe. They evacuated Farth to found a new home in the Swifthalm Mountains, leaving behind priceless works of art and treasure—ready for the picking by anyone brave foolish enough to attempt to cross the broken span.
No one is quite sure what it was—exactly—that the town of Birdmarch did to upset the giant. Perhaps it was nothing. Maybe it was indigestion. Or something worse.
Whatever it was, most of the small town escaped before the rock fell, dead center, on the town square. Most of the buildings, however, were not so lucky.
Five large pits are at the edge of town, five more some distance away—part of the giant's footprints deep set as he lifted the rock....
The notorious One-Eyed Wilhelm established a hideout for his pirate crew inside a seaside cave. Several living quarters, a mess, and an animal pen comprise this vile settlement, nestled against a cliff.
The cave is deep, and just large enough to navigate the caravel.
One-Eyed Wilhelm and his crew returned to port, the ship heavily laden with treasure of all types, both mundane and magical. No sooner had they anchored, an earthquake struck. The quake brought down enough of the cliffside to completely seal this cavern. Fifty years have since passed; if anything yet moves on the boat or shore, it is undead.
Another day, another headache, another day behind on posting. I've got the pain to subside enough to upload this one.
As you may know, I usually do black & white maps, with only a little bit of color for accents such as shadow or water. Also, the tradition is to show lower level walls with dashed lines. Because so much of this map is "under" the tree, the surface, and other details, I thought that dashed line walls would get confusing. Instead, I used colors to mean something on this map. The main trunk is colored brown, with the green hashing showing the foliage. the blue lines take the place of the dashed lines on the sub-surface walls.
I dunno...maybe it's too busy. Let me know what you think. I also probably would have outlined the leaf-line in green rather than black. I thought about that too late...
Tomb of the Forest Kings
(Key word: hidden)
The three great Elf-lords—Thoae, Wyn'Anor, and Sellinah were interred in an underground tomb after they fell at the Battle of Arveia. Their grateful people planted above the tomb's entrance a majestic Sehhalhel tree. Over the eons the entrance to the tomb was hidden by the growth of the massive iron-hard trunk.
The Elf-lords' sarcophagi and the treasures buried with them have long passed into legend and rumor, scarcely believed to exist. Forgotten completely are the four tomb guardians.: golems crafted from living Sehhalhal wood, who are eternally vigilant against intruders. Also forgotten are the myriad deadly traps within.
I'm a little embarrassed and quite frustrated tonight.
It's amazing what impact a migraine can have on mapping and creativity. But my more-than-two-day-long migraine is starting to fade; this was a bad one, as I usually don't have significant visual impairment. It hit before I could post this map.
But now I can try and get caught up with Inktober. Bear with me for the next couple days?
The Temple of the Weeping Goddess
(Key word: sorrow)
A thousand years ago, Isaidai—the favored one of Loarier, the Goddess of Dreams—defended her temple against an attack by Scoak—the champion of Scir, the goblin war-god. Mortally wounded, Scoak threw his sword, skewering Isaidai, whose killing spell went awry, striking the enormous bust of her god and carving holes in the eyes of the statue. As both champions died, a trickle of water inexplicably began to flow from the statue's eyes, the water pooling around Isaidai. The water's flow steadily increased to a briskly moving fountain. The fountain has flowed steadily ever since, inexplicably, as no source has ever been found for the water..
Loarier's adherents have since modified the temple to channel the god's tears into a stream leading to a pool of holy water. Loarier has since become known as the "Goddess of Sorrows" or "The Weeping Goddess."
For today's inking, I turned to the recently released Stronghold 'Zine Issue #3 for inspiration. When crafting this issue, I was intrigued by one of the shops mentioned in the map section: a little roadside food stand called The Unlucky Stableboy. I envisioned this as a D&D-era food truck, essentially.
Unfortunately, space issues restricted how much I could delve into the shop and how detailed I could make the map. When I saw today's Inktober key word, I saw the chance to revisit The Unlucky Stableboy. Of course, such a small structure looks a little silly with all that white space around it, but there you have it.
The Unlucky Stableboy Food Stand
(Key word: hungry)
The Unlucky Stableboy is a food stand owned by Horgan Skulison, a wretched-looking dwarf, with thin gray hair and one hazel eye. He wears dirty, ragged leather armor (pieces of which occasionally find their way into customers' food) and serves bad food, fast. Horgan may also know a few odd rumors, which may be of interest to some of his customers. (For sample rumors, see Issue #3 of The Stronghold 'Zine.)
A typical menu:
Boiled shredded flounder stew (7 cp)
Dog roast hash (9 cp)
Hot pepper bread (4 cp)
Rice bread and filleted bass (12 cp)
Diced octopus (9 cp)
Rat testicles on a stick (5 cp)
Heavily watered-down ale is available at 2 cp per cup. (The ale is watered down with the wash water.)
The back of the booth is dominated by crates and a large keg of ale. A grill/oven and large stewpot takes up the east side of the space. A wash-vat is on the west. Stacks of bowls and cups litter the ground around the wash-vat. Stools sit outside the front counter.
The "Warrens" of Smux, the Lonely Kobold
(Key word: collect)
Smux, the one-armed Kobold, was exiled from his pack-clan for his deformity. He found this small cave "complex" and has claimed it as his own. He is a veritable pack rat.
The entrance is flanked by large shrubs and a majestic oak. A small stream runs nearby, its source a waterfall.
Inside, a natural chimney funnels the smoke from Smux's fire ring. A sloping ramp leads to the shelf where he has his nest. A small cache of his "treasures" is hidden under his soiled bedding. Cache: silver spoons (2); silver fork (1); a marble statue missing an arm; 5 gp, 10 sp, 5 cp.
If you happened to be away from the internet this weekend, you may have missed the launch announcement for Issue #3 of the Stronghold 'Zine.
Fortunately, it's the first of the month—it's payday! A copy of The Stronghold 'Zine will only take a few of your paycheck's entertainment dollars.
The first shipment of Issue #3 has already hit the post office; they are racing out to their new owners. Your copy could be in the next shipment. You can see a preview of the contents here. You can still pick up copies of Issues #1 and #2 as well here. --OR-- click on the link below to go ahead and buy #3 and get your copy (or copies) in the mail ASAP.
When you do pick up a copy, please drop me a line, especially if you use anything from Issue #3—or any issue—in your game.
The Basement: Arcane sigils are inlaid into the floor.
Main Floor: Several bookshelves and a table ring the walls of this comfortable room. Two cushioned chairs sit in front of a large fireplace. Mot's bedchamber is on this floor.
Second Floor: Book- and scroll shelves around the room. Several chests and a stack of crates. This is Mot's spell-work room. A chair sits in front of a heat vent set into the chimney. When he is at work, a veritable cacophony echoes into the surrounding forest.
Top Floor: A stark room, reached by a rope ladder through a trap door. Two doors lead out onto the narrow walkway on the top of the second floor.
This is actually the first wizard's tower I've ever actually completed. I hate them. Loathe them. O.K., truth be told, I'm scared of them. Dwarves typically are not happy around magic, after all. As a result, I'm never quite sure what needs to be inside.
And it turns out that my logo is also difficult to draft while sitting on my bed.
I've never taken part in Inktober, Drawlowe'en, or whatever we're all calling it this year. I don't consider myself an artist. My last art class in school was somewhere around 34 years ago, and involved shading three-dimensional geometric objects and bowls of fruit.
That's probably why my few hand-drawn animals and people look like cartoons.
+matt jackson and +Dyson Logos inspired me yesterday. If they could try to do it every day, maybe I could as well. And Matt made a good point: my maps are in ink. So, lying in bed last night, I grabbed my pens (and a nifty new notebook I've discovered) and quickly sketched this one out.
Inktober #1: The War Fortress of the Mad King Halgrim Stonetower
(Key word: fast)
1. Massive doors lead to the entry hall.
2. Central hallway.
3. Throne room.
4. Barracks / Dining hall (s) kitchen w/ storeroom underneath
5. Dungeon: Portcullis at top and bottom of stairway.
6. Stone guardians.
7. Clerics' quarters.
8. Temple of the Dwarven War-god, Mordrim: huge anvil & forge.
9. (s) Minor treasure room; door locked and trapped.
10 Halgrim's bedchamber. (s) Halgrim's treasure room: door locked & trapped.
I almost numbered the rooms for the key, but I didn't know whether my red ink would bleed through the page. I also, intentionally, left the walls of the dungeon thinner to denote the lower level. I'm not sure whether I like the effect, or whether it works.
The other thing I learned? Background fill is tough to do in bed.
The first copies of The Stronghold Issue #3 are headed out into the wild this morning. Pushed from the nest and making that crawl toward the sea. (Hopefully they don't face the same kinds of predators on the way that baby sea turtles actually do. Sheesh. That analogy went dark quickly.) Even a few copies of Issues #1 and #2 are headed out. (Yes, they're still available.)
Thanks to all who have jumped in on the first day. It's truly appreciated. Many more will be going out the door this weekend, so grab 'em while they're hot!
**You can see a preview of the contents here. You can still pick up copies of Issues #1 and #2 as well here. --OR-- click on the link below to go ahead and buy #3.**
The first few copies came off the printer last night; the assembly process has begun. The link to buy your own copy is below; still only a print 'zine, in the old-school-style tradition.
**You can see a preview of the contents here. You can still pick up copies of Issues #1 and #2 as well here. --OR-- click on the link below to go ahead and buy #3.**
When you do pick up a copy, please drop me a line, especially if you use anything from Issue #3 in your game.
A collection of terrific—yet cursed—capes and cloaks
A new class: the Warder. A type of protector/bodyguard class for the wealthy and paranoid.
"[A] new kind of protector: one who was talented enough to heal them when injured, to avoid pitfalls when traveling, to detect the poison of a would-be assassin, and to have the strength and fighting ability to fend off a coup."
A new NPC: an information collector and thief-master, complete with a couple treasure caches...and a twist.
A new locale, The Crag: a neighborhood filled with merchants, inns, and temples, including suggested rumors, sample wares, and brief NPC sketches, all intended to provide some DM seeds. Oh, yeah...a map of the neighborhood too. It's set in my personal city of Coldtreath, but applicable in any good sized city.
A series of tables, to be used to create random meals and foodstuffs for both local and roadside taverns. I'm kinda proud of this one. O.K., in all honesty, I'm really proud of this one...mostly because it was birthed in the midst of a dream and survived into waking. Here's a couple random samples:
Mystery cakes
Roasted snake & horse stew
Shredded pheasant pudding
Diced snails & cheese
Fried dog hash
Bonus news: the Warder Class is presented in a 3.X version and a Swords & Wizardy/OSR version. In order to accommodate the OSR version,this issue has been increased from the regular 24 pages to 28 pages.
That moment when you've wrapped up layout for the 'zine, working on the Foreword and the final map...and your brain starts planning information and articles for the next issue?
Yeah. That's me last night.
But hey! Layout is done, the final map is percolating, and the Foreword is taking shape. Issue #3 is chock-full of goodness, including some contributions by friends of the Stronghold. Also some amazing artwork.
Getting psyched for a release date. I was shooting for September 1st, but I don't think that's going to happen. Hoping for next week.
I was really excited about it; new DM sitting behind the screen, new campaign. Well, technically an old campaign...call it a new old campaign. And I was juiced.
I started playing in '81. But would you believe I've never played through—or DM'd —The Tomb of Horrors?
That was the DM's choice for the new campaign, and I was really excited. Did I say I was excited?
And then, 2 hours before our only chance at a game this month...one of the guys got sick. Really sick. We were at risk of having to wait yet another month to march to our doom. I—as propmaster—and the DM put our heads together...and he said he had something. A little side quest to get us all to know each other, or at least 3 of us. And then came the request: instead of the previous list of miniatures, he needed a druid, some piercers, and some Myconids.
Myconids? Where the Hell was I going to get Myconids? And on short notice, too....
So I loaded the car with all my other gear and headed out with a little bit of inspiration. A quick stop at Hobby Lobby...and I had my myconids. As you can see, they look pretty good. They're cast of a heavy resin, fair amount of detail with the stems (at least they're not smooth), and the bottoms are flat and stable enough that they don't really need basing...unless I want to go through the effort.
Even the scale is about correct, at least in our campaign.The small ones are just barely above the top of the human miniature's head, so they're about 6'–6.5' tall. The big ones are about twice that. Both sizes have bases that fit in the 1" squares.
Each package held four small ones and one big one; with a coupon, it
was actually quite economical. It was certainly cheaper than doing it
myself.
Hobby Lobby was actually my second stop because the local Michael's was closer. All they had was some tiny ones (scaled at about 2'-3') with floral wire coming from the bottom that were more for wreaths or "fairy garden" use. I actually stopped at Hobby Lobby to grab a pin vise because Michael's didn't have one. I only asked about the mushrooms at Hobby Lobby on a whim. After a pack of those tiny mushrooms, several packages of 1" discs, and some quick-drying epoxy...well, I would have spent more—especially with conversion/prep time—than I did on the packs of the big ones.
Come to think of it, I could base the bigger ones, and use these tiny ones to add detail to the bases. I was going to return them...but.... Hmm.... I'd need some bases bigger than 1". Dang it. I should have stopped thinking while I was ahead.
The big ones represented a series of shrieker guardians in the lair of an anti-druid. The small ones saw double-use as some smaller guardian 'shrooms as well as a group of Myconid warriors captured, caged, and used as a food source for the anti-druid's Beholder companion. None of the characters had any idea what these things were; I was actually the only player at the table that, in meta-game, knew what Myconids were. They didn't register as "evil" to my character, so he risked life and limb to release these things that were speaking to him telepathically. As a result, the three PCs were named "clan brothers" to this group of Myconids. The photos were taken as we returned to the cave from a quick jaunt back to town, post-Myconid rescue but pre-anti-druid confrontation. (A dozen of them returned from their cave to aid us in our quest to destroy the anti-druid.)
The DM actually ran several test-runs of this scenario—both the beholder fight and the anti-druid fight—and it ended in TPK Every. Single. Time. Somehow we pulled both off; the only casualty was, of course, our elf, who was turned to stone. [Aside: I say "of course" because in our group, somehow, the elf is always the first to die. It has been that way for 16 years. The player who routinely plays our elf has had at least as many characters over this time as the rest of us have had...put together. No joke. We go through elves like they're made of Mountain Dew and Doritos. End aside.] My trap-finding and lock-picking skills and rolls were STELLAR and the DM kept rolling Critical 1s...so the dice were falling in our favor on every side. All in all it was a good night.We found the Crown of the Gods where the anti-druid had hidden it and returned it to the local temple, only to be offered the chance to go on several more quests to find teh powerful gemstones that accompany the crown.
So now we're left with the choice: go after the gems? or head to the Tomb of Horrors?
Choices...choices...choices.... Either way, the next month won't go fast enough!
Gentle readers, Issue #3 is one step closer to reality!
Both figuratively and literally (at least, in a literary sense).
Last night I received the digital image for the cover from +Jim Magnusson. It is, in a word, fantastic. I gave him the barest of suggestions (include a monster and the Stronghold) and he delivered in spades and with bells on. the artwork means I'm down to waiting for just one last image. And the monster in question, is leaving footprints. Big ones.
Sorry, folks. No teaser image this time around.
It truly made my day, and I needed it. Family crap again; trying to divide up my parents' estate is nearly killing me. The sheer greed and childishness that has come to light is...well, ludicrous, but also absurd to the level of humorous. I needed some good news after the emotional wringer that was my Saturday and Sunday.
Back to Issue #3: start gearing up and spreading the word. It's coming; can't you feel the earth shake?
A quick update on Issue #3 of The Stronghold 'Zine: I have received 1 of the last 3 pieces of artwork. It looks fantastic, courtesy of +Ripley Stonebrook.
Here's a teaser: a snippet of the art accompanying the new class presented in Issue #3: The Warder.
I'm really excited about this class, designed by a long-time friend of mine. It'll be presented in 3.x format. I'm seriously considering finding someone to translate into an OSR-compatible format as well. If there's any interest in this, let me know ASAP!
In other news, Holy Crap. I'm getting old. And I'm feeling every single day of it today, and then some. For our most recent anniversary, I bought tickets for my beautiful wife to a Howard Jones concert. I had never been a great fan back in the day; nothing against him—I didn't listen to '80s music back then, I was listening to '50s and '60s music. My wife, on the other hand, is a HUGE fan.
But, y'see, back...oh, 28 years ago or so he came through town and my (then) wife-to-be went to the concert with a guy. Her then-boyfriend became jealous of the attention she was showing Howard Jones, even though they were probably 100 yards away or more in an open-air, mountainside venue, where he was about an inch tall or so from their seats. But Psycho-boy became jealous and forced her to leave the concert three-quarters of the way through the concert to "beat traffic down the canyon."
That was the breaking point in their relationship, and she's never forgiven or forgotten. So I agreed, mostly knowing that she would have fun.
And she did. So do I, frankly. My wife danced through all 90+ minutes. I tried to keep up. I've never danced that long in my life. And today...I'm feeling it. 18 hours later and I still can't hear from one ear. (It was a fairly intimate venue with IMMENSE speakers.) I am stiff and sore. And exhausted.
The news is spreading today of the passing of Steve Russell, 42, of Rite Publishing. Award-winning designer, developer, publisher, and a man I was proud to number among my friends. He leaves behind his wife of six years, expecting their first child later this year.
I've known Steve since 2012 when he first responded to an e-mail regarding printing problems I was experiencing after downloading a Rite Publishing product. He had the problem fixed quickly, and responded graciously and helpfully to future questions and concerns. Looking at all the tributes, I was not alone in feeling this way. It was who he was.
About 18 months ago, I was privileged to join the Rite Publishing family, if only in a small way, assisting with proof-reading their Pathways magazine. Through these later interactions, I grew to know him a bit better and have considered him a friend. I'd like to think I was numbered among his friends as well, even though I was little more than an internet acquaintance.
My last interaction with Steve was three weeks ago: a bit of witty repartee concerning the cover for Pathways #58. Even though I'd probably put him in a difficult position, he was still gracious and friendly.
My sincerest condolences—as well as all of my thoughts and prayers—go out to his family and close friends today. All of us who knew Steve, even peripherally, have been touched by knowing him and will miss him.
The world is truly a bit darker today.
Godspeed, Steve.
Steve's sister has set up a memorial fund for Steve's wife and soon-to-arrive first child. That link is here.
Just a short visit to say that work on Issue #3 of the Stronghold is not only progressing, but we're at about 75%-80% the way there.
I had no idea it was going to take this long; real life has been busier and commitments more numerous, but the light in the tunnel is getting brighter. Artwork is in process and one last article and one map appear to be the last content necessary. Once those are done, there's the proofreading and then assembly and sales time!
Thanks to all my friends who have and continue to support me with good karma, prayers, and positive messages. They've been much appreciated. I have managed to get one door into my past professional life mostly closed. Some obligations still exist and will exist for the next few years. But the worst albatrosses around my neck appear to have been plucked, skinned, and roasted. I'm in the process of considering a complete change of career altogether, as my current situation is not improving and does not look like it can improve. But that's a discussion for another day.
Until then, be aware that I still have some copies of Issues #1 and #2. If you haven't picked one up yet, or know of someone that might like one, the links can be found below, or at Blue Moon Ink's website.
This series is something experimental, at least for me. The concept: create an encounter based solely on the four miniatures found in any one single random booster. I had originally thought about calling this a Pathfinder project, but then I remembered that Wizards had re-started their random miniature production. They're not the greatest paint jobs in the world, but then...some of the early Pathfinder paint jobs weren't terrific either.
The attached character sheet was also something of an experiment, as it has been somewhere over 35 years since I truly worked with the AD&D First Edition ruleset. Please forgive any errors, and accept them as what they are: an effort to pay tribute to that set of rules. It's also a nod to my OSR friends and readers. [But if you have suggestions regarding the character stats or character sheet—also of my design—please feel free to let me know. I welcome correction; I want to learn.] It was intended to be used on a 4" x 6" card.
The 3.x statblock follows the AD&D character sheet.
Today there is undeniable proof that the Toad God lives!
This appeared overnight in the Stronghold's garden..
(Actually, lest too much arcane mystery be attributed to the Toad God and its power strengthened thereby, I will admit that I was walking through the local Kroger's store and found him on sale in the garden aisle. At that moment, he had to be mine. ...Come to think of it, the intensity of the attraction and need...perhaps there's a bit of the arcane at work after all.)
Not wanting my children to worry about the devilish divinity of this creature, I immediately dubbed it "King Toadankhamun, Pharoah of the Frogs."
It may be easier to see in this picture: the smug, self-satisfied and satiated expression on his face. Look at the undisguised evil in his eyes and malicious pleasure on his face, as if he'd just finished swallowing a neighborhood dog, cat, or small child.
Now, the Mistress of the Stronghold—that beautiful, loving half-elf who stole my heart—isn't quite as enamored of the presence of the Toad God, especially as one of the first things that visitors would see upon arrival. (I suspect it has more to do than the potential threat posed to her beloved miniature yard moose that inhabit this garden.) As a result, the Toad Goad may soon be banished to the rear of the Stronghold where he poses little danger to anything but the occasional intruder. But he is here, now. And what better impetus could I have to revisit those various adventures mentioned above?
So, for all of you who don't know... depression really sucks.
No, I mean that. Literally.
Not only does it metaphorically suck, it sucks...time, energy, will, desire, creativity. All of that stuff goes down the drain while you sit and watch and generally wait, helplessly, as life passes you by while you wish for...well, all sorts of dire and unspeakable things. "Writer's block" has nothing on this, folks.
But thank Heavens for my Muse and some weird, pain-induced dreams this morning. They inspired some cool items and, 1,900 words later, I have a new article for Issue #3 of the Stronghold 'Zine. I'm getting closer, gentle readers, and am about ready to start actively looking for artwork.
So buckle up...I'm hoping to get this new something out in the world in the next month or so. Call it a birthday present for myself.
Yesterday I crossed off a bucket list item that I didn't even know I had.
Salt Lake Comic Con's "FanX" (Fan Experience) began Thursday and runs through Saturday. I haven't been overly enthused about it, being a bit burned out on everything, based on what's been going on in my life the past 6 months.
OK, that's not entirely true. I would have loved to have met Gillian Anderson, but didn't want to pay THAT much for the privilege. And Peter Davison was my "second" Doctor. He would have made the fourth of the Doctors I've been able to meet. [Aside: I actually did get to meet him and was able to tell him that, while he was my second Doctor, his was my first regeneration. I also complimented him on a little-known role and he showed pleasant surprise at my knowledge. Even better: all four of the Doctors I've met are genuinely nice, kind men, the kind I wouldn't mind meeting in a pub over lunch. That warms my heart. End aside.]
But I was ready to skip this Con. Just didn't have the funds or the time (or the inclination) to go this time 'round. There also really weren't any celebrities that I wanted to meet (that I hadn't met before) that warranted laying out money and time that I didn't have. That is, until they announced a True American Hero.
That word gets thrown around a lot. Sports figures get called "heroes." I've even heard movie stars and various other celebrities called "heroes." I personally think people mean "role model" rather than "hero," although most of the time that shouldn't be correct either.
But this man... there's no other word to describe him.
Dr. "Buzz" Aldrin.
Yeah. "Second Man on the Moon" Buzz Aldrin. One of seven living men to have walked on another world. A man who rode one of the world's largest explosions into orbit not just once, but twice.
I missed the moon landing by about 14 months. But my brothers remember it. My parents remembered it. I heard about it all of my childhood. The stores were still filled with Mercury-, Gemini-, and Apollo Mission toys when I was young. I had an original cardboard poster of this image on my wall when I was growing up. I wish I knew where it was; probably long lost to the local dump. I chalk that one up to an ignorant, self-centered, uncaring, and callous series of teenage years. But he was always a hero. All three of these men were.
Once I knew he was coming, I couldn't help myself. I spent considerably more than I should have, more than I truthfully could afford, so that I could get a package deal for an autograph, photo op, and prime panel seating for me and my two youngest children (my older two were able to go at the last minute, but we weren't able to get the package deal for them...just seats in the panel. But still something that—I hope—they can relate to their kids someday: the day they got to meet and hear Buzz Aldrin speak in person. Heck, I'll admit that I even put my job at risk to do this.
I wanted to participate in this, not just because of the cool factor, but because it was intensely personal for me. As my long-time readers may remember, I lost my father to cancer almost five years ago. He was Air Force, like Buzz, and they were contemporaries, although I have no reason to believe they ever met or had any association other than the wings pinned to their chest. But tears fell as I thought about how much I would have liked my father to be there and listen to these stories. I nearly sobbed out loud when Buzz talked about being on "alert" with his F-100 squadron while "bombers loaded with nuclear weapons flew overhead"; my Dad was pilot-navigator on B-47s for SAC...flying around the world with live nuclear weapons on board. The idea that one of those planes could have been my Dad's? It hit close to home and brought my Dad a bit closer...for a time, at least.
Add to this the time spent with my family today, and the chance to chill for awhile with one of my oldest friends (and fellow grumpy curmudgeon)...it was a pretty dang good day.
We could all do worse, and our kids could do worse, than a man like this as a role model. He's 86+ years old, and still spry, still working as a self-proclaimed "global ambassador for space." His latest project is trying to rejuvenate the space program and to work to get manned missions to Mars.
For those of you who may not be aware, the title of this post comes from Buzz's first words as he set foot on another world. (About 1:10 in on the below video.)
Kudos to Dan Farr and Bryan Brandenburg for another—for me, at least—successful Salt Lake Comic Con. If you're ever so inclined to travel to Utah, I would highly recommend it.
Just when I thought I'd reached rock bottom, emotionally, my mother passed away yesterday. I'm going to need a little time.
As far as the giveaway, the dice horde spoke randomly and declare +Taylor Frank as the winner of the Oscar Wilde Memorial Bestiary Giveaway!
What did he win? A copy of Paizo Publishing's Occult Bestiary ! (See here for more detail.) It's a Campaign Setting/Bedtiary chock full of psychic and occult monster goodness!
Congratulations, good sir. Your new treasure will be winging its way to you shortly.
George Bernard Shaw: Madam, would you sleep with me for a million pounds? Actress: My goodness, Well, I’d certainly think about it. Shaw: Would you sleep with me for a pound? Actress: Certainly not! What kind of woman do you think I am?! Shaw: Madam, we’ve already established that. Now we are haggling about the price.
I've been hovering between 98 and 99 followers to the Stronghold Blog for quite a while now. My ego needs a bit of a stroking, so I'd like to see the triple digit boundary finally crossed.
So. Here's what I propose.
I have here a spare copy of a Pathfinder Campaign Setting Bestiary that's taking up 64 pages (and nearly 50 monsters) worth of shelf space. I'd like to give it away to a deserving—and desiring—home. I'm offering it up to followers of the blog only.
If you're a follower and would like a Pathfinder book, leave a comment.
If you're a follower—and are strictly Old School—but know someone who would like a Pathfinder book, have them come on over and follow the blog.
If you're not a follower and would like a Pathfinder book, follow the blog and leave a comment.
If you're not a follower—and are strictly Old School—but know someone who would like a Pathfinder book, have them come on over and follow the blog. And follow it yourself, just for good measure.
I'll keep the contest open until midnight, January 31, 2016 (MST). Anyone who wants to participate and leaves a comment before that time will be considered. Winners will be determined by a random dice roll.
That's it. Let the commenting and following begin. I really want to get this book to a good home.
On a whim I stopped by the local thrift store on the way home tonight. Occasionally they'll have bags of Lego bricks (I've found a few bags of miscellaneous pieces; my son found an entire 10" tall Bionicle warrior once...and most recently an Imperial TIE Defender...missing only one piece and the pilot) or perfectly serviceable Nerf dart guns. I rarely look at the book section because it's dominated with either Stephen King titles that I already have or Harlequin romances.
Tonight? No Lego bricks, although there was a large bag of fake MegaBlok knock-offs that I passed over. Decided to wander through the books and videos, hoping to find a copy of Labyrinth somewhere. No luck on that, but the minuscule Sci-Fi/Fantasy section had a bit of a treasure.
Picked up all six of these titles for a total of $7.50, including tax. Books 1–3 of the Mageworld Saga by Debra Doyle & James D. McDonald and the three Books of the Sword by Fred Saberhagen.
Now, I've had the Mageworld Saga for years, and found copies of the first two Books of the Sword a couple years ago at a Convention. My Mageworld copies are pretty ragged, even with as careful as I am with books, they've been read and re-read—They're quite well-loved, actually. And my Saberhagens saw much better days years before I picked them up. They're pretty ragged; I only picked them up because I'd been looking for them for a couple years.
I wanted secondary copies of these, of course. But even better—aside from the price—was the fact that these 6 books are pristine. They don't look like they've ever been opened; admittedly, The First Book of Swords has a bit of a spine-crease and the front cover of The Second Book of Swords has some ink transfer on it. Apparently, a National Geographic Society membership card from 1990 (which was stuck to the cover) will adhere to—and the ink transfer to—a book cover if left pressed against it long enough.
If you've never read the Mageworld Saga, I'd highly recommend it. A ripping good space opera series, with a good bit of action and a nice helping of magic added in...good stuff. The Saberhagen also comes highly recommended; I enjoyed the first book and the others have been working their way to the top of my "To Read" pile.
This just five days after getting a neat little haul from a downtown used book store, the largest one in the state. Dropped in with my wife while walking to my office holiday party (yeah, a post-New Year's Christmas party). It's a dangerous place, because I could literally spend hundreds of dollars there if I was allowed to do so.
I've always wanted to read Asprin's "Myth" books and was pleasantly surprised to find a 2-in-1 copy. The Face of a Stranger is a great Victorian mystery (an English detective wakes up in the hospital with a bad case of amnesia, and must discover his own identity while solving an important case involving the nobility). And a neat-looking little mystery from Isaac Asimov that I'm looking forward to reading.
All told, I'm pleased with my finds this past week; it's been a long time since I've been quite so lucky with great books for my library.
And just so I don't run afoul of the Joesky tax, here's a quick little random d20 table of books (and things stuck inside them) that you might find in that mage's dusty old library—hooks and idea germs for encounters, adventures, or campaigns:
d20 Roll
Title
1
The Everyday Application of Novel Divination
2
The Axe: A Tutorial
3
Heretics Opposing the Fire God
4
The Storm God's Invocations
5
The Minor Powers of the Great Traveling Gods
6
The Wonderful Stories of the Mysterious Plant God
7
An Expose of the Theocratic Earldom's Early Pirates
8
Sleeping Patterns of the Bugbear
9
The Trident: A Tutorial to Maintenance
10
The Subtle Truths of the Sky God
11
A Treatise of Thaumaturgy
12
Legendary Warlords
13
Virtues of the Revenge Gods
14
Hunting Habits of the Basilisk
15
A Magus' Text on Remedial Summoning
16
An Examination of the Kingdom's Cultural Annals
17
A Study of Basic Magical Arts
18
Essential Alchemy
19
Classic Evocations of the Journeyman
20
Theological Crimes in the Empire
Roll d4 times on the following table to find out "What's Inside."
d20 Roll
What's Inside
1-6
Nothing
7
Dog-eared pages marking pages with underlined passages
8
A shopping list written in code
9
Several love letters stuck haphazardly into the book
10
Hand-written notes in the margins totally unrelated to the subject of the book
11
Personal notes in the margins of several concurrent pages warning of a coming doomsday
12
A hand-written dedication in the front of the book
13
Bookmarks (d6) marking pages with errors
14
Triangular scraps of paper with notes in a foreign language
15
A document with a list of dates in the back of the book
16
A list of foreign locations in an archaic language
17
Three scraps of parchment in some kind of code that seem to have no connection
18
A list of birthdays in an archaic tongue secreted in the binding
19
A map of a local castle or keep, including secret doors and passageways
