Scornbul by Midnight Overview

This was a fascinating experiment for me because it was the first time I had successfully run a PBEM sequence. I had played in them before (R Jean Stevenson's masterful Star Change game for Spelljammer, primarily), but my attempts to run them myself fell apart because I tried to exert too much authorial control. This was a great training ground before I went on to run my X-Men and Legion of Super-Heroes games. 

It helps that Jim is a professional writer who was engaged with the idea, so the story moved pretty smoothly on his end. That and PBEM play is near perfect for single player work. 

Jim, Melas' player, was going to miss two monthly games and I didn't want to have his PC be out of the action for that long, so I cobbled together a side plot that showed what the villains behind the current villain were doing: the coven of Hags who were pushing the pirates and assassins to work against Emirikol. Hags have always been one of my all time favorite villains in d20 Fantasy because of their diversity of powers, their cooperation, and their mutual antagonism - it just makes them great villains The Sea Hag, ostensibly the weakest of them, has such a gothic power in their grotesque visage saps the strength of others, that I wanted to stick her into a gothic story bit. Add in the visuals of the blinded former pirates working for her in the darkened house and it gave everything a horror scenario vibe. 

I tried to stick to the D&D mechanics as much as I could for resolving the plotline, and that she only had 16 HP made it possible for Melas to win a fight once he got close enough and got a weapon. Sea Hags are classic Glass Cannons in that they can really mess you up damage and ability wise, but they aren't bags o' HP, and that worked great for the action economy of a single PC against the monster. If memory served he walked out of that house with 3 HP left. the 3E mechanics, again, did everything I would have asked them too. Escape Artist checks, even! 

Rereading it as I posted it I'm really happy with the mood, atmosphere, and character work of this, as well as how it gave the PCs more information from an oblique source. Melas dealt a serious blow to their main adversaries without really knowing what he had done. 

Weekly Book Recommendations (September 3)

This Week's Reads

The Road to Roswell by Connie Willis: Grandmaster Willis is in true form here, with one of her classic romantic comedy SF farces. This one is remarkably grounded, taking place in the relative here and now of Earth in the 2020's, where our heroine is in Roswell trying to support her friend's wedding ceremony while keeping up with her unspoken contract of convincing said friend to not marry the latest in her series of bad decisions - in this case an obsessed UFOlogist  who wants the wedding held in the Roswell UFO museum - when she is abducted by an actual alien. Shenanigans ensue. This is a light, fun, funny summer read. 

Forced Perspectives by Tim Powers: another recent novel by someone who had long since proven their chops beyond any measure, Powers is returning to the Haunted Los Angeles of the Vickery and Castine series. It's kind of hard to recommend a Powers book without explaining it, and explaining it ruins some of the fun. So in brief this has to do with Hollywood, Cecil B DeMille, 1960's B movies, Egyptology, and a return to Powers' motif of people trying to find a way to avoid the afterlife and subsequent judgement. It's not his best work, but that's a really, really high bar and I'm looking forward to finding book 3 with these characters 

Due to my commitment to only comment positively on things I will not be mentioning the other recent read - something from the cheap dimestore paperbacks of the 1980's D&D/SG stories that would now be called Isekai - but gee howdy did the light pure plot writing style contain some absolutely horrible elements and pushing through to the end deus ex machina was a mistake. 

 

Weekly Cooking Report September 5: Swordfish in Lemon Dill Sauce

Swordfish was on sale, so I had to do something with it. I'm only human. We had some white wine that needed using and some lemons, so I snagged some dill to go with it. 

Now, the baseline recipe for this came from here, but I didn't want to do the full Piccata, so I stripped it down to the following. 

Shopping is a pound or so of swordfish steaks, 1/2 cup flour, some salt and pepper, 1 tbs olive oil, 2 tbs of butter, 1/2 cup dry white wine, a couple of lemons, and some dill. Now, I served it with leftover rice, and you can do rice or couscous for this. Either works. Get that started and set aside before we begin, as everything else in this is quick. 

Mix together the flour and 1 tsp each of salt and pepper into a shallow plate or pie tin, dry the swordfish and dredge the swordfish it in the flour. This means lay it down in the flour on each side, shaking off the excess, so you get a thin coating of flour on the fish. 

Get 1/3 of a cup of fresh lemon juice from the lemons - depending on how big the lemons are this might only need 1/2 of one. Get a slice of lemon for each steak for garnish. Dice up 2 tbs of the dill so it's very fine. 

In a skillet, heat the butter and olive oil on medium high heat until the butter stops bubbling. I love working with butter because it tells you when it's ready. Once the butter says "go" put the steaks on and cook 2-3 minutes until it's golden brown, flip it and cook another 2-3 minutes. Then get it off the skillet and set it aside. 

Add the white wine and lemon juice to the pan and using a skillet-safe spatula scrape up the browned bits - this is called deglazing, if I haven't mentioned this before. Bring to a boil, then reduce the temperature to low. Add the dill, stir, and then add more salt to taste as needed. Plop the swordfish back in so it can heat up and get the sauce all over it, 1-2 minutes. Sprinkle with a little more dill, add a lemon slice, and serve immediately to a grateful family. 

Seriously, this is really quick, so have the starch ready to go when you're putting this together. I served mine with a side salad that you can barely see in the picture. My daughter proclaimed "it's so buttery!" which I took as a positive. 

V&V From the Files of Sir Roderick Hagdon part 1: the Necromancer

I know that I still owe everyone more New Salem stuff, but the depressing nature of it is kicking my ass at the moment given everything else in life. So instead I'm turning my V&V attentions to my transforming some works of Charles Ashton Smith into a pulp super hero setting. The general idea is looking at his Weird Tales and seeing where concepts can overlap with heroes of the likes of Doc Savage, The Shadow, the Spider, etc. who aren't quite super heroes but do fight crime with colorful identities. I'm torn how much I want to have exploration be a big part of this because much as I love the super-explorer genre, it might work better for something else. 

Spoilers for Smith stories below the jump

Knave and Patrons

Knave has some, ok well a lot, of random tables to inspire the GM or help quickly fill in the world in front of the players if they end up going somewhere that she didn't expect. Some of these have to do with developing Patrons, which in Knave-terminology are the divinities, small gods, and spirits that PCs can recover relics/perform quests for to get blessings. Since I had some free time and when I had originally developed Castle Mordha for B/X D&D and then for 13th Age this was a space I had left blank before but now need. So off to the random tables to see what we get! 

Each one of these was made with 2 rolls for Domains, 1 for a Symbol, 2 rolls for Personality, and 1 roll for Goals, which were then built upon or discarded as the idea came together. 

Voynich

Domains: Prisoners, Book (roll on a sub-table said it's a book on Botany; this obviously inspired the name as an in joke.)

Symbol: Book made of leaves (actually rolled something else, but given the domains....)

Personality: Proselytizer, Protector

Goals: Didn't bother to roll since the personality made it pretty clear.

In Action: This local god arose in Mordhiem (the large village that used to serve Castle Mordha) as the Mordha family enslaved the local farmers. It is taken on faith that he caused the earthquake that ended the Mordha's reign. His shrine maintains a manuscript of botany and agriculture lore. Voynich very much wants to expand to the other farming villages on Shankill, and to shield people from Mordha threats.

His shrine is the most prominent in Mordha’s town, made of carefully woven together living trees with a canopy so tight no water gets through. There are 10 people tending the shrine, teaching the local farmers how to best tend to their crops and preaching about the release of prisoners (both actual and metaphorical in terms of if you love something set them free and to not be a prisoner to your anger). The priestess is the mediator of local disputes before the mayor is called. 

Voynich will act quickly and harshly if there are any practicing slavery nearby or holding prisoners unjustly or harshly. Similarly, if someone brings Mordha-originated threats (but not coin or other treasure) into Mordha Town the god will not be pleased.

My Notes: This became the "local" god for Mordha's Town, and works as both a local protector and a very practical agriculture god. The PCs can expect that Voynich and his shrine will push for them to join the faith for quests that either defend the town or spread the faith to other local farming communities; they won't help push into the dungeon, but will help stop anything that bubbles out... with a cost to the PCs if they were reckless.  

Manzeryk 

Domains: Doors, Eagles (again the name is a joke off one of the members of The Eagles)

Symbol: Eagles eye pendant (symbol roll was "eye", so making it an eagle eye made sense)

Personality: Courageous, Blunt

Goals: Destroy Monsters

In Action: Widely worshipped, she is the goddess of Doors (as opportunities, engineering-arch-and-keystone, and as transitions as a psychopomp) and Eagles, whose form she takes. Her goal is slaying monsters, and there are endless tales of her or her worshippers killing Monstum Loci, and when you die it is her eagle who carries your spirit to the land of the dead and gives you a very blunt appraisal of how courageously you lived your life. 

While she accepts prayers from and performs blessings for Mordha Town, she’s done her job too well: the extermination of truly threatening monsters in Shankill’s interior means she pays the area little interest. Her shrine is tended by but three acolytes who travel in from her larger Shankill shrine for either training or punishment. All the rites are performed, but without enthusiasm.

When she learns of monsters inside Castle Mordha her shrine will become much more active, likely to the shock of the local acolytes. If there are monsters to be slain, she will be eager to create relics and extend blessings so as to engage in her favorite sport.

My Notes: I loved the way random rolls produce things (as a V&V player I know this comes as a shock to you), and the idea of a Goddess of Doors & Eagles just opened up so much; especially since I knew I needed a contrasting god to Voynich as a powerful but distant Patron. Looking at "doors" in the most expansive way gave her a very broad portfolio, and Eagles gave her a physical form. The personality rolls and goals made her into a real entity of the sort that grew by an accretion of ideas and legends and actions that made her really fit the kind of Discworld small god becoming major religion I wanted. 

The other two gods coming up next week! 

Scornbul by Midnight Act II Scene III

Melas, knowing what would befall him if he succumbed, steadfastly refused to turn his gaze to the Signora's features, instead accepting the wrenching complaint of his neck and shoulder muscles as he fought against her grip. His vision began to dim around the edges as her iron-hard fingers prevented either blood or breath from passing through his neck. A kick to the Signroa's midsection produced nothing more than her foul, croaking laugh.

"You're too crafty by half, little popinjay. We'll have your hands before you go back in the cell then. And given time you'll tell me all I want to know about your interfering aunt and her sisterhood…."

From the edges of his vision Melas saw a blur of motion then splinters of broken glass and a splatter of port coated his face in liquor and blood. His body spins like a rag doll as the Signora twirls, hurling him towards the third upright chair - the impact reminds the dizzy noble for a moment of falling from his horse onto a rocky field - upsetting the chair and leaving him sprawled underneath it beside the blazing fire. 

"No…no...no more!" he hears Antonio spit at his wife, but any further words are drowned out by a shriek of rage from that foul harridan. By the time Melas clears his vision his fellow prisoner was once again held at an arms length by his wife, whose tightening grip caused an audible splintering of fragile man's shoulder. The port bottle lay shattered on the floor, its blood soaked jagged edge indicating that Antonio had landed a second attack on his betrothed tormenter.  

Melas, shunting aside the pain from his multiple injuries, does the nobility proud by refusing to succumb - indeed, he literally sticks his hand into the fire for the honor of the empire, freeing the red hot poker from the blaze. The sizzling of the flesh on his palm is a distraction as he swings the heavy iron implement in a fatal arc, its glowing tip burying itself for a moment in the Signora's skull. Even as he wrenches it free for a second strike its heat sparks the oil coating the chaos witch from head to toe. Immolated and wailing the creature that was once a lady of the Republic staggered towards the grim faced noble - the flames peeling away her layer upon layer of squamous skin and rendering her own visage disgusting but ultimately impotent. 

The Signora's charge proved more to be an attempt at escape, but Melas would have none of that, his impromptu weapon landing again in a blow to the creature's knee that sent her stumbling into the fire pit. Melas took a moment to wrap his hand in his handkerchief, keeping watch on the body until he was sure that Signora Hueras' threat was ended. A second scrap of cloth served to wrap the fallen ring the Signora had been using to facilitate her communication to her allies, and then he turned his full attention towards his companion. 

Antonio, barely conscious and obviously in physical agony, seemed more certain of himself now that he had witnessed wife's demise. Helping the man to his feet Melas shouldered thus burden as he proved the keenness of his mind, retracing his steps back to the stairs that led to the street in front of the Andres shipping concern. Good fortune had a rack of oiled cloaks by the door that might serve to cover their bedraggled state as they made their way through the dark Scornbul night to the de la Erosas household. 

There his arrival was met by a shriek from the doorman before Osmundo took control of the situation and had both men brought into a private room and called for a healer. The next day passes in a blur as the men recover from their ordeal. Prompt medical attention prevents the blistering on Melas' hand from scarring or impairing his mobility, and otherwise some bandages and trio of good meals are enough to restore the hunchback's strength. Antonio is not so lucky - magical attention is required to set his shoulder, but his mind is still not what it was. Through it all the young Ema is ever present - fetching food, drink, bandages, and whatever else the noble, pirate-fighting Melas might need. 

"There is a monastery in Iselberg, towards' the mountains peak, surrounded by halfling farmsteads on all sides," Osmundo tells Melas as the nobleman prepares to take his leave that evening. "From what I know, the monks abandon their old names and act to strengthen our ties to the spirit of our ancestors. One cannot get farther from the sea and no one will question why Antonio was once reported dead. Our coachman will get him on the road to there once the rain clears. Our family cannot thank you enough for what you have endured on our behalf." The man's handshake was heartfelt, and Melas knew that the fellow was earnest in his restored devotion to the Vienne family, and himself as their agent. 

Melas entered the streets of west Serin, oiled hat and cloak protecting him from the downpour, a newly purchased rapier at his hip to replace the one lost to some blind pirate storeroom, and within moments the young Ema lost sight of him in the pounding winter rain.