Homebrew tabletop game system thread the II

[Panzersharkcat]

He nods and walks over to the Baron. He kneels and says, "Milord, I am Sir Alfred Norden of Lillehammer. I have come here along with my retinue on a quest to bring information to you on what has been going on outside these walls while you were gone." He waits for the Baron to respond.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'On your feet, Sir Alfred, this place has many effects that bad enough without going around submitting, even to your rightful lord. And say on- how do things stand in Qulan, in the county as a whole? What of the country- is the king still Justinian IV? How has the barony been running without me?'

His people are looking distinct askance at the rest of you, you are outnumbered if it comes to that, and there is a man who you is also identifiable- although give him his due, not as a spymaster. Definitely a rogue, though. He's looking at all of you- interestedly at Tamarin, doesn't seem to think much of Dirt.

[Panzersharkcat]

"My lord, king Justinian is alive and well. Beyond that, I must bring much grim news. I am certain that you already know that Johanna Calvern, now styled Countess of Auvaine, roams free in our land. I believe you have encountered her here. We encountered her two nights ago, near Qulan city. My retinue and I spoke with her. She said that she has come, under orders of the Imperial Chancellor, to 'cut away the deadwood.' I fear what this may mean for the future."

"The barony has... been the worse for your absence, milord. Many of the court officials are without direction and struggle among themselves. Some outside parties have taken an interest, as well: a band of Krylanyan paladins arrived last week, and have been most active of late. Indeed, the intrigue in your capital is growing murderous- literally so. Sir Owell's eldest grandson was killed by an unknown assassin just yesterday morning, and the lady Shaula narrowly escaped an arsonist two nights before that."

"I also bring reports of troubles with the elves. We encountered a brother-sister pair at Caer Edric, harassing the fortress and keeping it under a state of siege. I and my companions defeated them with great difficulty, losing one of our own in the process. The brother, Dleamthayaran, posthumously killed another of our own, my man-at-arms, through a curse on documents we found on his body. My man sacrificed himself to save us all."

"Aside from this, what started our journey north was a chevauchée led by Radulf, a knight from Carfax, riding out at the behest of Baron Kardren's relations. With some aid from us, the local yeomanry stopped his assault on your people at Coroghan. We brought him to Qulan city and a speedy trial, but the Kardrens may send other raiders in time. When we left the city, the verderer was assembling troops to meet any southern marauders."

"And that is all I have to report, my lord."

(OOC: Much thanks to Simon_Jester for revising what I had written.)

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Oh, good, I was waiting for you to post- and how that was told mattered, because there was a decision fork under there that could have gone a very different way.

The count's dead. the Countess has very little leverage- can only rule by fear and intimidation, the practise of which will in all probability have her dodging skylances in short order. Her authority's largely a bluff; she's only dangerous, she doesn't have the tools to construct- damn' sure doesn't have the consent of the governed, for what that matters.

There is a de facto power vacuum...which he was seriously considering filling. If Qulan was reasonably secure, if he could afford to turn his back on it, he would have gone straight to the big city and tried to promote himself in fact if not in name.

Instead, it's a bloody mess. Telling it like it more or less is means he doesn't have a secure base behind him; he has to go home and sort it out. An optimistic report, even something as cautiously optimistic as "bloody but unbowed- there has been damage, but we are rebuilding"- could have sent him off the other way.


'In that case, it seems I'm needed. Pass the word to move.' he orders, and messengers scatter in all directions.
'Murder and conspiracy, hm? Elves with trees in their bonnets, Kardren's kin nibbling at the south- he traded his men for monsters, had them warped by the magic of this place. It wouldn't do to apply pressure to him here- but perhaps to leave temptation in his path. Follow me.'

As he moves, and the retinue and followes start to form their usual comet's- tail behind him (and Weyman appears in the tail end of the procession), he asks Alfred 'And the individuals? You're not regularly at court- I would recognise you if you had been- but do you know?'

This is probably actually a question best referred to Dame Tamarin, who knows a lot more of the details than Alfred does.

[Panzersharkcat]

"I'm afraid not, my lord. I believe Dame Tamarin can tell you more, however."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Tamarin proceeds to do that, and I could do this fully in dialogue, word for word if you want, but much of it would be rehashing anyway and a lot of the details would probably make Alfred's eyes glaze over, Dirt and Rohal if anything a step ahead.

The interesting bits are more in how things are said; Tamarin's trying not to let much colour her descriptions, trying to be fair and even- handed and an honest observer- not that this is really absolutely possible, it takes time and distance for perspective- but he keeps prodding for a more slanted opinion than that, trying to get her to be catty and vicious and condemnatory.

Also, some of Tamarin's own past comes out; she was brought up at court, for one thing- daughter of the previous chamberlain, and intended for a life of backbiting intrigue- before she fell for a country knight and moved far, far away from politics. She knows the people and the codes pretty well, even if she doesn't want to play the games any more. She is vulnerable- a new made widow, well connected and with a decent sized estate- but she's also trying very hard not to ask for his help, which seems backwards.

The names flow, as you move slowly away from the centre- out of the corner of your eye you see, as everyone else is leaving, the cloth over the sphere of spheres twitched aside and a man in a fantastically elaborate hat peeking round a corner at it.


Baron deVerett pauses for a few seconds to digest the situation, thinks of the southern border and says 'There's going to be a battle. If what you say is so, then there has to be. Here, in this maze of magic Baron Omphraye's men have the advantage because they have already given up so much to it. Out in the open, the edge is mine, half his freaks shouldn't be able to breathe the open air. Cordon him, break enough of his abominations to make him sue for peace- that should put an end to these raids. I'll need you for that.'

[Simon_Jester]

If there's anyone around but the baron, Larric looks to them- he figures a direct interruption won't help much.

He frowns. "What's this about 'abominations?' What manner of monsters has Lord Omphraye been making?"

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Tedrin is the one who answers that.

'Not so much the man himself as his court wizard; and I could give you a list, but it would be a long one, ranging from simple conversions of his fighting men to walking slabs of frenzied meat, through killing and raising as undead those of the retinue they weren't able to feed, sometimes disembodying them first so he got a skeleton and a wraith out of it, to complicated things like turning a man into a were- elemental, or splitting him down the paths of his possible future so he becomes five shadow versions of himself- his powers grew with practise, and his creations becoming more esoteric, more extreme and arcane.

There are few of his men left unchanged, unmutilated- more than half of those who did remain flesh and blood defected to us, to keep their humanity; and some wavered in their loyalties, true, and most are more used to horror than I like to see in a man dining at my table, but the politics of it alone- if Baron Omphraye does not come out of this with his reputation and his ability to lead men- rather than mutilations- damaged beyond repair, then the world itself is broken. He was smart enough to know that, so either this place worried away at his mind too, or Hilarion is the one who needs to die.'


[In another part of the fortress; Countess Calvern has Hilarion by the throat, up against the wall. Numerous dismembered undead and smashed golems lie littered around the chamber. She is about to rip his spine out and beat the rest of him to death with it. There is a small karmic explosion off in the distance, though, that proves problematical. She thinks about it for a second.

'Damnation. One of my alternate plans just imploded- and suddenly I find that I need you again. There's still a twist of fate that you are needed to provide- the world cannot dispense with your existence just quite yet.'

She drops him, he gasps for air, she stalks out of the chamber, grumpily, kicking aside the carcass of a small war gholem as she goes.]

[Simon_Jester]

IC:

"I hope his lordship's plan doesn't have us fighting a whole army of those at once... If we're trying that, we need a- a bottleneck, that's the ticket."

OOC:

Aw, crap.

Karmic explosion? I sure hope that wasn't our fault... I'm not sure whether or not I wish the Countess was more of a "screw it, we're doing it anyway" sort of lady, since she'd probably have killed more cities that way too.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Explaining what that twist of fate would be would constitute a major spoiler, and for something quite far away too, beyond the immediate horizon; the short, relevant version is that utterly unprincipled as Hilarion is, he is actually rather good at being a wizard. He also used to be very good at pretending to be reputable, but I think he's just given that up.

There's a puzzle that needs to be unpicked, that is essential for the future, and that he could do- or that Verone could have done, with time and learning. That, alas, is not now a possibility, so Hilarion has to continue to exist for the time being, maker of abominations though he is. Unless you get him.

(The incident at the far end of the plot lines that were starting to weave themselves around Eliska involved regicide. For, against, who of, human, elf, dward, svartalf? Hmmm...)


The baron overhears and says 'Ah, good, a wizard who understands something of strategy. The natural bottleneck is of course the exit, and the obvious move is to get there and form a ring around it. Too many of his entities are too individually dangerous to choose to fight at close quarters- we want them coming through a narrow space, a few at a time, into open ground where we have room to shoot and blast them before coming to grips. I'll expect you to be part of that.'

[Simon_Jester]

Oh hey, now Larric has been drafted! It's official!

Then again, he doesn't want hundreds of berserk zombies and multimen flooding the countryside, and he'd rather have them lined up in a shooting gallery with an army at his side now than have them creeping up on him after dark later. So he doesn't actually argue the point.

"There's a lot of people packed in the exit, milord; it'll be a big job hauling them up and out. Then again..." he looks at the busy activity that's been bustling about "...army. And everyone looks able-bodied here. It shouldn't take too long."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

With great power comes...actually, forget the rest of the line. (What would happen to spiderman in the middle of a dark elf city, anyway?)
Coming up with a sensible alternative to that really is the hard part. Disengagement would be an idea, but in the case of raiding- and Alfred rather has said that this was so- some kind of confrontation seems inevitable, and only a good idea of where and how else to fight to greater advantage would be effective.

Any looting you all want to do, by the way, now would be a good time; there's enough disorganisation. Nobody is getting left behind, although several are getting carried along.


Random ramble about money and population, seeing as the idea came up tangentially anyway; Auvaine County has about a hundred and twenty thousand humans plus an unknown number of elves, split between one city, six towns and a couple of dozen villages of varying sizes and the open land, a high proportion of which are actually urban- about forty-sixty town to country.
Of that hundred and twenty thousand, maybe three percent qualify as noble class, but that includes extended families, the too old, too young and the otherwise employed. Maybe two hundred active knights and squires all told, before the summer and the near civil war. Another- large number, two, maybe as high as four hundred committed themselves during and after that. Could be about a hundred and fifty down here- to start with.

Money, I did explain this, but our most ardent looters are no longer present, but basically copper, silver, gold- twenty-five copper to a silver, twenty silver to a gold. Two to three copper pieces, quite large things too, as a daily rate for a labourer, and roughly a gallon of small beer for a copper piece. So yes, one aut, one old gold piece, would represent somewhere from fifty days' wages for a journeyman craftsman to two hundred for an unskilled labourer.

(The Twentieth actually pays very well, but most of that gets stopped out of the trooper's pay to fund their equipment and animals.)

[Simon_Jester]

Actually.

Larric doesn't go places for the loot, isn't ardent about it, but he won't hesitate to quietly scoop up any surplus money he sees lying around that would otherwise be abandoned in a hole in the ground. He's got a nest egg to rebuild before he can get back into practice, especially if he wants any free time to experiment.

He's thinking- the people are getting out, and the knights and their heirs will take up as much of the weapons and armor as they can carry (not that Larric could carry much of them himself, they make poor trading goods anyway). Most of deVerett's people are still alive, so they're likely to take exception to anyone trying to haul away goods. But deMarail's encampment almost has to be chewed up, and the poor unfortunates trying to get out of there may have left things behind they couldn't carry.

If William were around he'd be absolutely perfect to have for this, of course, strong like an ox and greedy for shinies like a raven. But, alas, he is no more- Larric tries to pull Rohal aside a bit. "The last time you went off into the mist to gather up this and that it didn't end well, but this time the elves haven't got it in for you. I don't think we'd be missed too long if we had a look around- maybe we can find baron deMarail's camp, they look like they may have left a few things too many behind."

At first, he doesn't seriously consider recruiting Dirt, whose absence is very obvious by the fact that there's less sun-blotting-out when he's not around. He definitely doesn't consider pulling out Sir Alfred, who's a nobleman and who's probably being pumped for information by the baron anyhow.

He does, however, fully intend to rejoin the rest of the group at the entrance cavern after a quick pass- consider this a Scrounge run, and he'll probably have to try to appeal to some of deVerett's men for a clue about which way to go.

EDIT:

(p.s. I don't know if bringing Dirt along or not is a good idea, there may be dangerous people lurking around anyhow, so it probably is; I'd be very happy if Larric's plans get modified by some other PC's ideas before he actually goes off and does things)

[Feralgnoll]

OOC: Apologies for not posting. Been busy with Graduation, Commissioning and gearing up Active Duty.

Rohal nods in agreement with Larric. "I apologize for that.." Hushed..."Transformation. Lets hope this one has better results."

[Kaelan]

OOC
Sorry for the lack of post - Internet has been down.

IC
Dirt already has some metal disks, they're pretty much useless but humans seem to like them.
He's happy to go along and act as an extra pair of hands and bag carrier (that a reasonable size bag)

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Are congratulations in order? Commissioning, certainly. Three E-cheers; you're a responsible adult now. Just be careful about what you let them hold you responsible for.

Much, ah, 'reclamation' is done, and [many dice later, all quite good]- hm. Not much in the way of edibles, certainly. There's a cased set of pearl- inlaid silver cutlery, knives and forks and spoons and things;
your pick of clothing, a lot of abandoned finerty although most of it in need of a wash- and nothign to fit Dirt;
A longsword that was probably deliberately left out in the corridors during a phase of magic, allowed to be imbued by it- the thing seems to flicker in and out of existence, rotate through the specturm and the elements; definitely magical, beneficial is rather less certain;
what looks like a salamander's eye on a chain, to be worn as a pendant;
a box of documents, deMarail's clerks or treasurer left them behind, too weak or dead to carry them- land deeds and certificates and writs, legal documentation he won't want to have lost;
a quarterstaff with a holy symbol of Ikhran on the end;
the grand prize, a journal; written in Old High Gibberish- encoded, but the drawings make it clear what it refers to, they're partial maps of the corridors, tracings of the veins within the corridors, guesses at what they do and what they mean- probably only guesses, but still.

Did he really mean that about a were- elemental? Bit mad that, isn't it? There are few stray people- in fact, none you come across. Anybody with three brain cells knows the time to get out is now, and the damaged are being helped. Rejoining will happen just as you are about to go up the spiral, most of deMarail's men are gone, Lisanna is there holding Larric's pack mule.

[Kaelan]

Dirt is going to keep his eyes out for any abandoned chain mail. If he can find several suits he may be able to cobble up a reasonable ogre size set of chain.

[Simon_Jester]

OOC:

Congratulations!

[salutes Feralgnoll, sloppily and with a gentle side order of comedy]

IC:

Some few of those treasures, Larric is going to try to get them to others if he can arrange it. The staff (to the clergy) and the legal documents (to the rightful owners) in particular- he wouldn't turn up his nose at a finder's fee but he'll push to get them back. Gauging the magic items is best done at the surface. He will try to pull together a few outfits for himself in about his size, and as a form of loot there's a good deal to be said for fine clothes, pound for pound.

For himself he's not trying to amass anything too amazing, though- hm. I have no idea if Auvaine has sumptuary laws or not...

And that about wraps up the salvage operations. So, carrying on to the next part:


Larric nods politely to Lisanna. "Thank you. Did you get much use out of him?"

How's the mule's temper? Still under the salubrious influence of druid, or getting back to normal?

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Dirt does manage to find a side chamber deMarail's men were using for a morgue; the dead are there laid out, mostly in what they died in, and very few were delicately stabbed- slashed, dismembered and rended to bits usually. There is stuff there, but it needs a lot of patching together and it would probably be best washed very thoroughly before use.


There are no sumptuary laws, but there are definitely customs, because clothing and finery is the most obvious display of status, the deviation from that is in working clothes, what you need to do the job; it's an unwritten and not really enforced code, but it is a code, and people are usually quite suspicious of those choosing not to follow it, to dress above- or below- their station.

In the wake of disaster, things have loosened up a lot and it's unlikely any such law would be enforced, even if it existed in definite form- but suspicion levels are probably up too. (Thaumaturges are the largest and most obvious exception to the rule, incidentally- few would or do tell a wizard he looks ridiculous in that robe.)

You Bastard (the mule) appears to have acquired a small hump, obviously by karmic resonance; but he is also practically strutting, proud and confident- like a different animal; he has done Good, and knows it.

Lisanna, incidentally, is wearing a loose blue- green linen dress and robe that look like a middle to low ranking noblewoman, quite a subdued performance for a wizard, especially one of her abilities. 'I think Aburon may have overdone it a little,' she says apologetically, 'The mule's been very helpful.'

[Simon_Jester]

The alchemist chuckles. "Helpful's good. After the trouble I've had with him, I hope it sticks." He thinks for a moment. "Have you seen Sir Alfred and the baron lately? Is he upstairs or down?"

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'baron deVerett'- she actually sounds as if she doesn't like him very much- 'is up, out and organising the ambush; Sir Alfred is somewhere around-' he actually is, having just looked round a corner for a second, he should be in this chamber as well- 'and those of us who are left,' a small party, 'are actually just waiting for the last group to come through, pick any of Kardren's scouts off their back and then leave too.'

There are sounds in the disance. Actually, in here, it's difficult to tell if they are in the distance or not- hopefully they are also quite distorted, because they don't sound good. Screams, rustling, a sort of general chitinousness. 'Those would probably be the scouts. Everyone ready?'

[Simon_Jester]

Larric sighs. "Ready enough." He gets his crossbow off his back- stone floor, so he rules out a cathode-rune. "My proper trade is dyes, distillates, and accidentally setting the shop on fire, but I've had to take up a sideline in lightning arrows these past few days."

Question about the terrain- is this chamber we're in part of the magic-charged, runework-inlaid chambers of the fortress proper, or (for practical purposes) just a cave that the fortress uses as a vestibule?

And is anyone besides Lisanna and the party around?

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Lisanna, Tamarin, her two longbowmen, the group, one of deVerett's knights who has obviously been told off to look after Lisanna and his retinue of three men at arms and a crossbowman.

She's not best pleased to have them, is glaring at them; she doesn't have a staff, draws two swords, one seemng to be made of green crystal, and says 'Don't get in my way.' To Tamarin she adds 'It'll be all right to stick a sword in this lot, they won't be human.'

Adding after a second's thought 'If they are human, let them by first.'

You're in the rocky, unfurnished space outside the front gates of the fortress, basically a cave- lit by a faint glow from the wall, and whatever shiny things you may be carrying. There are rumbling noises, then something scuttles out of the door. Anyone arachnophobic?

One creature, looks about a waist- high tumbleweed, but as it starts to unfold itelf it looks like spindly legs, some more spindly legs- is there a centre to this thing? Apparently not- it's just a baitball of chitinous spiders. Stabbing time?

[Kaelan]

Normally dirt would just let such creatures by as a form of you live I live, but he suspects that the party may react different to spider tickles.

As for stabbing, I think squashing would be more effective here. Bug meet castle door..... (dirt preps his shield before the ball can break apart to much).

[Kaelan]

To Tamarin she adds 'It'll be all right to stick a sword in this lot, they won't be human.'

"you try stick dirt, dirt will stick back and dirt have bigger stick" (dirt doesn't want to be attacked by the wrong side in the gloom).