Homebrew tabletop system- playtesters requested

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Back, and hairy;

Mathilde thinks about it for a few moments, and says 'I don't, not really, not by the law- but that was a warning, put as a trap, and I fell into it.

She said "choose for myself" after all; and I did- it was a caution against listening to my own sense of a job left undone, that if I was good enough a leader Theresa wouldn't have turned against me, that if I had been in the right place at the right time I might have managed to mitigate some of the damage, that I could have done so much more.

I managed to second guess myself into thinking that I was wrong, and I can't afford to do that; be so worried that I really do start making more mistakes and genuinely do deserve penance.

And seriously, the druid? An outlaw and renegade, a representative of a nearly vanished faith? He may be the best instinctive thaumaturge I've ever come across, but one wild man from the woods...if the future in some way depends on him, then it is going to be much stranger than I had thought. What do you think of him?'

[Norade]

"Ah, I shall be wary of making that mistake when dealing with conjured beings," says Safrac attempting to cheer her up a small bit.

The knight, or perhaps paladin might be more fitting now, then listens as Mathilde beats herself up a bit before he says, "You only did what all leaders do. You blamed all failures on yourself and sought to fix everything by bearing it on your own shoulders. As for the druid, I think that if this situation we're headed into is as dangerous as we expect it to be I would accept help from stranger sources."

He allows that a moment to sink in before changing the subject again and saying, "Enough talk of things we can not change and things that are done. We both need rest for now, and I have much to do in gathering my things from the inn and finding lodging for myself and my men in your temple. That is assuming there are no rights and rituals that need be done before I may find shelter among those that I now share a common gift with."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'Nothing- there's whatever deal Theresa had with du Lauloy and the consequences of that, but we can deal with that as it happens, if it happens, I have an idea. Get your gear, I'll send an escort with you and they'll be able to show you around properly.'

She plans to leave you, and about fifteen of the soldiers fo the temple, to do that while she heads off to deal with whatever idea she's just come up with.


And, again, where is everybody else? Basically, all the characters have some kind of plot thread going on here- Valette has her past and the scheme she was caught up in, the Gholem has his own origins and the elvish side of things to pursue (remember "remind me to tell you later how wierd you are"?), Randolf has the dark-elvish and underworld side of things, inherited really from de Andorra, and the high civil plot of what the hell D'Cearach was really murdered for, Safrac has this, and the the original idea is to let them all weave and cross together, spark off and affect each other, and ultimately tie together into some kind of resolution. That's hard when only one or two are regularly being chased up.

What resolution, I have no idea. I'm just providing the setting here and having it react to the players; there are already several of the NPC's needing to lie down in darkened rooms until the world stops spinning thanks to completely off the wall moves, and a few more maintaining with difficulty, so come on, I want to find out where this goes.

As a further reminder, there are three posters who never did join-
Lusankya (Sister Naia Chelsea), Zixinus, HarrionGreyjoy.

[Norade]

(Kheitain should be posting again soon enough, he's a bit new to text based games so he's been finding it a bit difficult to follow and keep up.

That said, I'm really enjoying this game and I admire your ability to keep so many balls in the air with regards to plot and NPC's. I'm a very fly by the seat of my pants kick in the door style of DM and while I enjoy running that style of game it is rare that I get to run, or even can run, anything like this.)

"I will see you shortly then," says the orc as his escort forms up then, with a nod to follow, Safrac starts walking towards the scene of the battle wanting to be sure to meet up with Parol before moving along.

The two men speak quickly before the knights second in command salutes crisply and heads off to gather the rest of the lance and bring them back to the temple. With that out of the way, and orders to have them stable Turstin with a bag of oat mash and an apple the orc needs only to pick up a few belongings from the inn. Should things go smoothly he will simply walk in and gather his things before returning to the temple straight away. Yet with the way things have been going he half expects to be caught between two groups of well armed rioters before he gets a chance to guide his head to a pillow.

[Master_Baerne]

I'm afraid I simply don't have the time to do justice to this anymore. Inconveniently contiguous crises at work and at home are using up all my spare energy. I'm terribly sorry to abandon ship like this, but there's very little I can do at the moment.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

That is depressing news. [The Patrician]Would it not be more feasible all round to do injustice to it, instead?[/Patrician]

I'll hold Valette on ice until, hopefully, things get better. Good luck.

[Kheitain]

I got a little lost while we were in the sewers and admittedly my interest waned at that point with so many things going on elsewhere. My apologies for not at least informing my fellow players of my status.

As for the game I was really enjoying having a plot to unravel, and I completely missed the comment towards the gholem, I thought it was just a "wow, you're weird." By the way I'm open to being as old as you like to make things fit, how long he spent as a near-automaton is totally up to you

The gholem watches the fight, this time distinctly curious about how they are using this enhancement magic of theirs. He has his own that comes from the energy around him, but theirs is strange and he's never had the chance to simply observe it. He hasn't much of a vested interest in who wins or loses this fight, the social ramifications are all beyond his caring.

He follows the fight to the garden, where luckily for him it ends quickly. This is going to have to be his place to grow and find peace until he decides how to deal with the events of the past few days. As soon as the fight ends he begins to inspect his temporary home for damage. Chipped bark on the tree, a few small plants crushed and the cuffed grass. He smooths these over quickly before wandering over to the building that the whole party has gone through. He's had enough of the indoors for a lifetime as far as he's concerned and so scales the outside of the tower, peeking through arrow slits to keep track of the party. Once he determines where they are by the sounds of the ritual starting he shapes the stone to allow a clear view of the proceedings and a comfortable perch.

He watches the whole ritual, and nearly falls from his perch at the appearance of a celestial being. He wonders if the humans really understand what it is they're getting into by dealing with such things. He continues to silently watch the proceedings until they have concluded and people begin making their way from the tower. The gholem decides to complete his climb and sit on the very top, surveying the city. He just sits and thinks of ways to fix this city while observing the activities of the people below. On a whim he makes a small slit in the stone at the very peak of the tower and plants a few Kudzu seeds.

He sees Safrac leave the complex alone, and for some reason it reminds him of the strange human they encountered in the sewers. "Why am I weird?" he wonders, "I am as natural as could be made." The irony of the concept is completely lost on the gholem. He honestly does believe himself to be both a part from and a part of the natural order.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

During the ritual, just before it actually, the druid Aburon and his orcish friend Hara wander out into the garden. 'I'd rather not be standing there when that goes off,' he says to her, 'I doubt we'd be welcome anyway- we can escape from here more easily if it comes to that. Oh, right.' he spots- or strictly speaking the sparrowhawk perched on his shoulder spots- the gholem at the top of the tower. 'This is as good a time and place as any- can I talk to you for a moment?' he says to the gholem.

He scrambles up the tower anyway, and points at one tree in particular. It's a plum tree in one sheltered, half- recessed corner of the garden.

(GM note; he's going to ask a long set of obscure and quite woolly questions, just trying to get an idea of what and how the gholem thinks. That's what the following drivel is about.)

'Do you think that belongs there? Strictly speaking it doesn't, you know. Climate's wrong, soil's wrong. It wouldn't be here if someone didn't like plums, and bothered to spend the time and energy to lay down a clay layer under it and pack the soil with the nutrients the tree needs, to make a little alcove for it where it's own air and water are- so, is it natural? Does anything need to be done about it, and if it does, what?

Or that there.' he waves at the space where the elvish ecumenical tree used to be, and in fact you can hear the sounds of an argument starting around the hole in the ground. 'It was a tree growing out of the stone, a tree that belonged in old- growth heartlands; a thing utterly and totally out of place here, but complete in itself- a state of artificial perfection.

It was also intended to mock the un- nature around it, prove that no matter how many layers of brick you lay over it, nature can bounce back...something I'm not at all convinced is true. And now, there's a hole where it used to be. It was stolen, literally root and branch, complete and intact. Who do you think would do that, and why?

Or for that matter, are we even certain that this-' he waves a hand, mening the horizon, 'is unnatural? I presume you've met an anthill at some point. An ant hill built to the human scale might reach miles into the sky- and some day, some century, maybe it will...

Perhaps this is natural for the human race, this is what we're "supposed" to do. If that's true, it's depressing- but even if it was true, would that make it good?'

[Kheitain]

What and how the gholem thinks to the depth this campaign seems to go is something I'm curious about too so the drivel is appreciated. Definetly going to be an excercise to stay in character sometimes. If you don't mind too much I'd like to make the gholem a little more talkative. He has the ranks to speak and understand a few different languages well enough. He's socially and emotionally retarted (I mean that literally) but I havn't been playing him as having the preprogrammed education he should have.

The gholem looks at the plum tree for a moment, "It'll die, and then what belongs will grow in it. Whatever likes "plums" will die and the proper species will take over again. I make it go faster."

He pauses again, considering his words, "Sometimes a bird gets a seed stuck in it's feathers before it migrates. Suddenly something grows where it should not. Sometimes it prospers, sometimes it doesn't."

"Who could steal that tree?" The gholem echoes, "Perhaps those who put it there took it away." He shrugs again. "The tree itself will become part of the natural order and eventually die and give life to something new. It was only carried after it became a seed."

Considering the rest of the druids words, the gholem thinks he is understanding the point the man is trying to make. He finds it difficult to translate the scale and the pictures he sees into words in the human toungue. "An anthill serves a purpose for the soil, for the predators and the prey that depend on the ants. What purpose does this serve?" He mimics the druid, gesturing at the horizon. "They have decided to try and force apart nature to make room for themselves. They take and give nothing back, they are setting themselves apart. The natural world will break it all down... Eventually."

As he says the last piece he makes the slit in the stone for the Kudzu seeds and plants them.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'Stop me if I've explained this to you already,' the druid says, 'but there are three main currents of thought that you may have to worry about here, three of the most important possibilities that most people are going to think may be your nature, and behave towards you as if they were right.

There are the Happenists, first of all; Caranthir who you met was a Happenist, at least officially, and they tend to believe that nature does what nature does, and there's not much to be done and even less that should be done about it.
Life goes on, in it's own haphazard way, some are happy and some destroyed by misery, some are fortune's favourites and some lead short, terrified, crunchy lives, and all the lives and living things are part of a grand pattern that stretches further than the brain can see- and interfering almost always does more harm than good, destroys and diminishes far more readily than it creates.

The Happenists tend to trust to the fact that life wants to live, and personally do as little as they have to do to get by. Lord Halamath- Caranthir- is a special case; his duty is to protect that way of life, which means he doesn't get to live it much himself.
Also, part of his job is to think the unthinkable, to see why others believe as they do and work out from that what they're going to do next, and defend against them if he has to- here's a question, which came first? Did the demands of his job grow him into the being he is today, or did he gravitate towards it because it suited how he already was?

The Nurturers believe that sentient creatures, humans and elves mainly, are still part of nature- but the part that ended up with the overwhelming majority of the active intelligence, and as such it is our job to be nature's brains, at the least to decide what ought to be planted where, to farm and husband and cull, to selectively breed and crossbreed, to manage the natural world for it's own greater good. I think anyone with flesh and blood who has ever spent a night near a midge infested swamp will concede that not all parts of nature are good...actually, manage may be unfair. Caretakers and custodians, mostly.

The Shapers are the third great current, and they have a slogan; "Intelligence Transcends." Conscious beings are above and apart, no longer fully bound by nature's laws- and no longer bound by nature's principles at all. Make from whole cloth, remake to suit, freely destroy and rebuild; the best of them have merely passed beyond starry- eyed reverence into cold and rational analysis, the worst seek to reshape the world to suit their passions. The greatest and the worst of wonders and horrors are theirs.

Myself? I wish Happenism were practical- but look at the city, there's far too much needing to be done. The Shapers make me far too nervous to identify with them, despite the fact that they seem to think I'm turning into one. I suppose I'm more or less a Nurturer. Where do you see yourself fitting in?'

[Norade]

(Anything happening with Safrac on his walk to the inn and back?)

[Kheitain]

OOC: thanks for that, I would imagine the gholem knows these things but I don't

"You've never told me that before, but I knew who they were." He just kind of droops as he considers his next words. "I'm not really part of any of them. The shapers are backwards, the Nurturers are on thin ice and the Happenists can't live with the others around. I think I'm here to fix the meddling. Suppose I'm a re-Shaper of the shapers, humans seem to be an entire speciese of Shapers."

He looks out over the city, noting Safrac's progress towards the stables, "Maybe we can fix them, otherwise I must be the red tide."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Norade- yes; not far outside, accompanied by a nicely judged group of black- cloaked men, not so many that he's obviously trying to establish a position of strength nor so few as to invite attack in turn, is Don Arcangelo de la Novara.

'I believe you have a plan, and I think you need to talk to me about it.' he says. 'On the move is the safest, you were heading for your lodgings?'

[Norade]

Nodding to de Novara Safrac says, "Yes, that is where I was headed to, and I agree we have much to speak about. Which part of the plan would you care to speak about first?"

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

My head just wandered off for a few days, writing, job- hunting, argh. Anyway,

Kheitain, the druid takes a deep breath and says 'In a few days' time, we're probably going to meet the Colonel- well, Countess now. If we're good, and lucky, and we play it right, we might even survive.
Don't get carried away on the subject of red tides until you've met one coming towards you, and seen how you like it...that seed, I'm just away to do something like it to the basement of that temple over there.

You may want to contemplate this view,' he says, choosing an angle past the kudzu seed towards the plum tree, 'and this; nurturers, shapers, happenists- normally they are at odds, rivals at least. Why is it that you show signs of the abilities of, your creator or more likely creators gave you talents drawn from, all three?'

Having said that, he starts down the tower, and over to the temple of Valdemiron to do thoroughly un- neighbourly things with rot spores.


Norade- de Novara starts with 'We could open with the bit where you decided to commit suicide, for a start, and who you talked into going along with it. For Mathilde this is a religious imperative, and she's carrying more scars than she lets show, she'll go through with it regardless.

How well do you know the target?'

[Norade]

"Suicide would be making light at this point if I understand things well enough. However, it has to be done, this power structure is unhealthy and while the idea of judging people on merit and how much power that can take is wonderful there is no way the average person can rise against it. How does you're average human compete with a dragon? He doesn't! Even those with divine gifts don't come close. This might be suicide, or it might be something more, and if it's to be pulled off I will need your help, and the help of your men. Besides, what little that is left will be further reduced in this city if we fail," says Safrac convinced that his cause is right.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'It's not the right or wrong of it that worries me,' de la Novara says, 'I'm more worried about the fact that it's going to be ridiculously difficult. I do know her, you see, or at least I used to.

There are many good reasons that she ought to be brought to justice, and if that isn't going to happen private or at least vigilante vengeance is the next best option, but you're not going to be the first or possibly the five hundredth to try.

This is the problem; if you want to know what a human who can claw their way up the ranks of the system looks like, she is it.

Mt last campaign before I retired was my last largely because of her. We were never close, but we were on the same side, and that was actually worse, we had to sit down and break bread with her afterwards...she's very young, must have been only in her late teens then, but a praeternaturally quick study, and brilliantly manipulative.

She always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, could sense exactly the right words to use to get you to do what she wanted; the only reason she didn't wrap us all around her little finger was that she didn't care enough to.

Or perhaps we were too much use to her, she learned from the minds around her- an empath utterly without a conscience. Possibly worse. Pietro de Fuchal's theory, as I recall, was that she had become literally addicted to the moment of death, of a dying, panicking mind rolling back through it's memories as it unravels. We never asked, in case he was right.

She'll only have got worse, in the ten years, nearer eleven, since then. She does have the gifts to compete, and that is why she is a monster- and I cannot think of an easy way to ambush such a monster. There are a couple of difficult and expensive ones, admittedly- possibly. What was your idea?'

[Kheitain]

The druids objection to the idea of purging confuses the gholem all over again. Why would he care? These creatures are themselves like a tide, washing away everything. Balance has to be restored some how.

He tries to figure out what the Druid is talking about, why he shows signs of all three philosophies, but he just comes up blank.

He instead notes where the Druid is heading, and looks out to find Safrac again and spies him surrounded. He is talking to one but from up on the tower it looks dangerous. He's not sure entirely why he cares at this point, except that this one shows compassion and an ability to learn rapidly. He may be useful in educating the others. The gholem decides to slide down the tower and bound out across the rooftops, staying as hidden as possible, to get a closer view.

[Norade]

"I don't have a plan just yet, I don't even know what forces can be found to fight against her. I do know that the more we have the better our chances are. There must be a limit to her abilities, a limit to her ability to read thoughts..." Safrac suddenly pauses, before exclaiming "I have it! The way to get close is to have your mind altered to think thoughts that make it seem as if you're going to be loyal to her. Then that programing needs to revert once you see her, a hidden trigger. Once that is done the person chosen just has to be good enough to kill her and strong enough to resist her simply charming them."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'That's bold.' de la Novara days, 'I was simply thinking of a long-causal-chain poisoning, starting so far back that the only people she would come into contact with would have no idea there was anything dangerous involved at all, and be unable to raise suspicion- the obvious drawback there being the chance of getting somebody else by accident. And of arranging the circumstances, of course.

I'm not an empath or a soul reader, but the subject has come up before, in general terms, and speaking with those who are, a man's mind, anyone's mind, looks something like, hm. If you could make a rope that could be read like a book, then a mind would look something like the rigging of the ships in a busy harbour. After a demented giant had played cat's cradle with them.

Semi- orderly; there is a general shape and a general form and a general purpose, but many many individual quirks and oddities- small flaws can be easily overlooked, but large ones do stand out, variations on the form are hard to spot but violations of it are easy. Whoever gets to be the assassin would have to be credible in the role to begin with- the shape could be put on anyone, but on someone who wasn't already close to it it would leave noticeable scars.

At that level, anyway. Someone who has had that done to them is easily more convincing in the part than the best stage actor could be, but you wouldn't be trying to convince an actor's normal audience. Shower her with detail from other angles, get as many concurrent plots running as possible; avoid drawing her attention to the assassin, specifically...

When you came up with this, how did Lord Caranthir and the druid react? They have their own plans on the subject, I'll be bound. Who would be capable of that kind of subtle mind alteration, that's another question- forget honesty, doesn't exist, anyone that good has an agenda of their own. Much as I hate to admit it, there are a few freelances- mainly elvish- but the prime options for mind- reshaping are the church of the trickster, and the church of the chieftain.'

PS, away for the weekend again- and the area we're going to has a severe weather warning in effect. This should be fun.

[Norade]

(Sorry, for the slow posting, just been busy on other projects. Anyway, has this game done anything to help your rules system come along so far? It's pretty easy to forget that's the real reason for this thread.)

"You're the only one who has heard this plan as I just thought of it. However it seems like just the sort of trap that those around me would set, it's political, complex, and if it works, near impossible to pin back to them," says Safrac before admitting, "Call me crazy, but I was of half a mind to take the task on myself to be honest, the scars would only make me look more ruthless, an orc who purged the last shreds of decency and honor for more power. The difficulty will be in walking the line between being powerful enough to see her in person, and being powerful enough to be eliminated before that."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

The met office got it completely wrong; I was expecting a typhoon, practically, but I came back with sunburn. Really unusual, considering the site is normally a swamp. Good fun though, apart from that damned archer (that is another, much more painful story.)

Rules wise, I really need to start tidying up the magic system, it still essentially runs on a web of interlocking rules of thumb. Changing the learning costs worked, that was good. Injuries are still tricky. I want the damage system to be nasty enough that random murder is not a serious option for the sane, the risks are real and the players have to choose what's worth standing up and fighting for; but doing that without it spoiling the fun is the tricky part.


de Novara says 'You forget, Rav was there when you came up with the basic idea- and Lord Caranthir hasn't outlived at least ten generations of men by being daft enough to stick his head into the first available noose. He'll have an angle of his own to work on this, or will have within five minutes of thinking about it.

I could find someone to do it- but two things, I'm not sure I could find someone who's that good a swordsmaster, and if it isn't you, that leaves you wandering around with the idea in your head, and she probably will want to meet you. If someone tried to send an investigating officer after me, I know I would.

You're right, which is not good for you- there are logical reasons why you would be the right candidate. It's not a fate to be wished for. I'll sound out a suitable mindbender who won't try to kill you, or whoever else voulnteers, too badly.'

Safrac is basically at the inn, and can collect his and his followers' things without further trouble. de Novara gives one final piece of advice; 'Caranthir wants to talk to you tomorrow at noon, I believe; I can't imagine what would manage to get him to implicate himself- but try anyway.'

[Kheitain]

The gholem listens to the tail end of the conversation, it's all just more social scheming that he couldn't care less about. Their power structure should really be the least of their concerns at this point. Watching Safac's visitor turn to leave the gholem decides it's time to show himself. He leaps across to the roof of the stables, then drops down as Safrac exits with equipment in hand. The gholem shrugs at Safrac and quickly scans the area, looking pointedly at the areas he saw people hiding in while on the rooftops.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

I have to admit, I am having trouble maintaining focus and momentum, too busy with AH amongst other things- not easy because out of a total of eight, three players never got around to joining, two have definitely and one appears to have dropped out.

Anyway, Kheitain, the gholem scans the rooftops and spots the usual assortment of city-dwelling life, birds and vermin mainly- and people, here and there; there are a few who simply can't sleep roaming the streets, some scavenging, some lurking, some obviously insomniac. A fair few probably criminal.

There's one space that appears, there's an outline aginst the sky that when you look at it, and then look back about ten seconds later, a small round blob, like a head sticking up, isn't there any more. And- oh, I can't resist it. What the hell.


There's a flash, and a sudden sense of absolute and total wrongness. Something that simply does not fit has just elbowed it's way into the world, and is looking around, scenting the air. It; hard to tell detail, it's a tangled shambles of sharp edges mostly dark in colour, glinting like metal, and if it's natural it would be a considerable surprise- and what kind of environment this thing fits into hardly bears thinking about.

Simply from the way it behaves, it's a predator. Scanning the horizon, disappearing, heading- you think- towards the old town.

by this point Safrac has collected his things, intimidated the innkeeper into giving back the few possessions that he pocketed, and is heading back towards the temple.

[Norade]

(I'm still here, I'm just busy and the game is going more slowly now so it doesn't have my attention as much as it did at the outset.)

Safrac nods along at de Novara's points, his mind now occupied with thoughts of how to accomplish the task that is so obviously his to undertake. Even in the inn he's on autopilot until he notices that some of his possessions are no longer with his things. However a quick bit of intimidation has them returned, so the orc pays the inkeeper as if he'd stayed the night before moving back into the street.

As he gets ready to start his trek back to the temple district the Golem drops down beside him and starts to scan the area, with a smile at the corners of his mouth the knight asks, "See anything unusual?"