A short tale, for when your bard needs a tale of adventure, romance, and tragedy.
In settings where there are long established underworld thief, criminal and otherwise ne'er do wells there is going to be a system of heraldry associated with those who live in and rule from the shadows.
Vecna's Order is both reviled, and revered. They trade in secrets and forbidden knowledge.
This is part of my series on deity organizations. Each organization is unique, fully built, well thought out, and adaptable to any campaign setting.
‘You are freed from all cares brothers and sisters! All worries! All need to toil and labour for the baron’s taxes, in the guild’s fields and for the peddler’s wares! All the drink you could ever need!’
Final words of an extremely drunk hedge conjurer by name of Oates Greenlock.
Created by the god of madness, one must be at least a little insane to be able to use them. These tools cause much confusion to those that see them in action and are guaranteed to cause misunderstandings.
Enclosed in this document is the account of Mr. Johnathan Crewes, who was recently incarcerated in the Psychiatric Ward, of how he was driven insane. He shall be soon shipped to the St. Josephine Asylum for the Mentally Disturbed.
Remember those cliché taverns the storyteller took you in a hurry? With the fat bartender who's just cleaning a mug as you enter? Yeah, none of those here...
drawn from/inspired by Hellfire: the Summoning mobile game
Intense, personal stress can trigger expression, turning Baseline into Delta. In many cases, the stress comes from life-threatening danger. But in some...
From sticks and stones to the modern faith. (May be offensive to some readers, read with caution)
Part 1 of a Shadowrun novel, I wrote a few months back, that I decided to place up here for public enjoyment, and commentary, after yet another rejection letter for dead tree publication.
This novel is Rated R for graphic violence, adult situations, and general all around Cyberpunk goodness.
GM's and players may find it useful for character concepts/backgrounds and adventure ideas, enjoy, more to follow every week.
Lounging around in the Cantina, Kolburn kept a watchful, yet unassuming eye on those around him as he finished the last morsels of what passed for a meal in this joint. Brushing off the crumbs, he glanced round, careful not to make eye contact with any of the other patrons who might later remember him as he made his way unobserved to the entrance and out into the cold of the port. He would come back and pay off his mounting tab, when he next came across a few credits, or found another odd job. After all, he wasn’t completely without his honour, unlike some people.
Singing Her Own Song: Profiling Ellen Lancaster
--by Jamie Easton, New York Times
Ellen Lancaster is a woman who refuses to be labeled. Eschewing recognition, this powerful Delta seeks fulfillment through helping others find their voice. While her tale might seem one of rags to riches, she sees only a lifetime of riches, many of them far more precious than material wealth.
Falling Toward Grace: Profiling Sarah Voltaire
--by Jamie Easton, New York Times
From one of the world's most powerful and prominent Deltas to part-time barista in Greenwich Village, the life of Sarah Voltaire might seem like a fall from grace. But spending a warm afternoon with her recently, I came to know a woman who has fallen not from, but towards grace.
One day a man named Koret claimed to realize what was wrong with humanity. Shortly after that he claimed to have figured out how to fix all the world problems, and he wrote down a series of commandments aimed at saving humanity from themselves. Over 500 years after his teachings were literally set into stone people are still talking about what he wrote, and some are even trying to follow it.
After she ate the middle part of my wife’s body she gestured me out the door. Then she paddled me to the den of the Sage. All the while I stared at her rune marked back, my hand on the hilt of my sword, and I thought of my father and the hens.
''Rrrbit! Rrrbit! Great Jove has found you unworthy, human! Now prepare to die !''
Methinks we have hugely mistaken this matter of Life and Death. Methinks that what they call my shadow here on earth is my true substance. Methinks that in looking at things spiritual, we are too much like oysters observing the sun through the water, and thinking that thick water the thinnest of air. Me thinks my body is but the lees of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is not me.”
All you need to stop a brain is a bullet.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman