Just another day in the big city...
Very well described in places. Awesome canvas for gaming (or in your case, awesome locale for a novel I imagine.) An entire world really, inside of a city. Besides Gotham, I get a bit of a Basin City vibe, along with for some reason, a fascimile of futuristic novels of the 40's, 50's, and 60's, decrying the "metropolises" they describe.
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As per usual, no positives are mentioned about "life in the big city", of which there are many. Then again, I imagine that's by design. :)
Well that's one way to tackle the Old School Quest. Write an actual "module" which is not so easy to do by the way. Kudos
It's a little clinical and dry in places I won't lie, but it seems a solid adventure with several points of interest. It could use some jazzing up, but I know, "Old School" :)
Blobs, altars, sacrifice, flesh golems and a great Maggot Mother. All seems in order there.
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I think it would look pretty cool if you formatted this with some box-texts and stuff for "gm info" vs "read this to players" texts and such to make it visually resemble an actual module read-through.
Warp'raa the Great Slayer, the Troll-King
The Troll-King is a king in name only. In reality, he is simply the toughest of the four trolls in his pack, leading their raids across the boundless expanses of the Murgh. He is known as being completely indestructible, and owes this impregnability to an erstwhile warlock-hermit of the swamp, who ensorcelled the troll's very flesh with powerful wards of protection against all fire and acid. In return, the troll-king slew the warlock, to ensure that the man would not "enhance" any other trolls. Trolls are nothing if not treacherous.
None of this have I witnessed for myself, but rather this is hear-say and local legend. The queer black runes branded in Warp'raa's greenish flesh suggest that these rumors may be true.
Warp'raa takes the well-known fearlessness of the trollish race to new heights. He just keeps coming at foes, and even if eventually chopped to pieces, each individual piece will continue the good fight. Dousing him in acid or setting him aflame does nothing to his magicked meat. And since not much else can kill a troll, the troll-king thrives. Or so they say.
Physically, Warp'raa is truly imposing. Ten feet in height though stooped and hunchbacked, his strength and ferocity left me in awe. I've witnessed him uproot sturdy willows, effortlessly throw an unfortunate elven ranger at least sixty feet into the air, and crack a charging water-buffalo's skull with a single strike.
Warp'raa also challenges the old rule of never defecating where one eats. He is constantly emptying his bowels and rarely walks off to do so. The troll lair is awash in troll guano, waist-deep to a dwarf, and Warp'raa seems to enjoy the mess.
On rare occasions I have spied Warp'raa mating with Gozh'ga, being one of the few members of T.H.I.S to have witnessed troll mating in the wild! Watching their love-making changed me forever and I will say no more of this. I will never unsee it. The gestation cycle for trolls I've learned at least, is surprisingly short.
Many times over Gozh'ga has spewed forth newborn trolls, only to have Warp'raa swallow them whole, minutes after their birth. Perhaps this is why the trolls are not fecund. They could easily make armies if only they stopped all that cannibalism!
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Whenever Warp'raa eats a newborn, the clan gathers around, gesticulating toward the skies wildly, then proceed to dig great holes, for no apparent reason. After this, Warp'raa will roll himself around in a bed of moss and howl. What these trolls are trying to accomplish is beyond me.
Umook the Sculptor
Though the trolls of the Murgh have no word for sculptor in their primal tongue, I call this specimen by that name, due to his singularly peculiar and gruesome hobby. Umook will tear, rip, rearrange, and forcibly reattach the limbs, heads, and extremities and build mongrel statues and constructs, from the flesh and bones of the troll pack's victims. No one can guess why he does this, least of all Umook I imagine, but I have observed on several occasions Umook practicing his macabre art-work with his bloody raw materials. The grotesque mockeries he constructs do not stand vigil long, as the trolls quickly devour the sculptures, while Umook gibbers and drools, clawing at the earth, either bemoaning his fate, calling out to some loathsome troll deity, or both.
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Umook is fond of flowers. He can often be observed inhaling the vapors and pollen, face-down in a patch of poppies or ten-step pansies. I have yet to ascertain why he does this. Nor can I begin to guess why once every half-moon, a small swarm of rhinocerous beetles approaches the troll, lingers about him, then goes off again into the swamp, as if with instructions from Umook in tow.
Gozh'ga is a she-troll. I know because she is bigger than the other two, and often berates and belittles Umook and Droog whenever they attempt to mate with her, or eat her food. She is a wrinkled behemoth of a troll with empty, worm-ridden eye sockets.
What she lacks in sight, she makes up for with her wart-ridden nose. Her sense of smell is extraordinary. I was present when she once sniffed at the air suddenly and excitedly, then proceeded to sketch crude human-like figures in the dirt, indicating travelers and pointing in a direction. The trolls seemed excited.
*Three* full days later an unfortunate band of adventurers stumbled upon the troll lair. The trolls were ready for them, and the awful screams that night, did not last long. Not only had Gozh'ga sensed the group many miles away, but she seemed to know that they were traveling in this exact direction. There was no reason to start the hunt.
Once Gozh'ga had eyes, but as I watched from a bluff spell-bound one night, she plucked them out one after the other and ate them, much to the delight of Umook and Droog, who leapt up and down, like two idiots at their first fare.
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Several weeks later, something interesting occurred. I was watching the troll relieve herself one morning, riveted to the scene, when suddenly to my horror, two bulbous, gloopy eyes sprouted, one ripping through the flesh of each cheek of her desiccated backside. These are truly remarkable creatures.
I sometimes call him "Droog the Last" because he always is. The runt of the foursome, Droog is often submissive to the other three. Last to attack during the hunt, last to feed back at the troll lair. He is easily recognizable by his two extended members(!) which I have never witnessed in flaccid states. I have colleagues that would no doubt jape at being envious of Droog's predicament, but I digress. Why Gozh'ga refuses to mate with Droog despite his twin ever-ready phalluses, remains a mystery.
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Droog seems to prefer eating animals to humanoids. The other three trolls are the opposite, they will listlessly chew on snakes and hedgehogs, but positively animate whenever two-legged prey appears on the menu. At these times Droog looks almost sullen, and withdraws to his pit gnawing on his own arm. Droog will sometimes try to keep food alive for a while, and play with prey like a cat. It almost seems as if he is desirous of acquiring a pet. I watched him once drag a dwarf around by the neck on a chain for three weeks everywhere he went, though he forgot to feed him, until Warp'raa at last, came over, ripped the dwarf's head off and ate it. Droog ate the rest, whimpering solemnly.
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Heh, wise Gyma has touched upon the crux of what I was going for...Some combination of the banal, apologetic, self-important, desentisized news reporting on mass beheadings, Sharkweek jumping the shark ("Oy, watch as I swim with these misunderstood, gentle giants---Gaaaaaack---Dead.), Gorillas in the Mist ("Wow, he just sits there. Amazing! Wait, look, he just picked his ass with his finger and tasted it! I think he liked it. What incredible creatures, I'm in awe!), ecological ultra-liberal-terrorists, and the reality tv trainwreck.