Via Flickr:
Messrs Rufus and Burne: We don't care what you do in that tower. And if you want to pose for portraits in front of it wearing turnip-colored armor, that's your business. But we thought we had an understanding. And that understanding was this-- if we are going to allow a couple of non-Hommlet-born "adventurers" to build a tower in our village AND to sit on our council of elders, AND to maintain an armed force of former brigands (if you want to refer to them as "badgers", again, that's your business), then we expect that we will not have frenzied frog cultists in our pantries. Pantries. Our kitchens. What we're saying, Messrs. Rufus and Burne, is that it's all very well and good to have crenallations and catapults, but when invaders bypass your little fortress to assault goodwives in the heart of our village, then it should fall on you and your well-trained soldiers-- and not on the casual militia and wandering preachers to hold the line and repel the attack. Are we together? Please Messrs., do you understand our concern and frustration? What plan can we conceive to make sure that this doesn't happen again?
Friday, April 27, 2012
Hommelet
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Play Report: Menkan to Kāi'ěrwén
Menkan itself was orderly to the point of oppression. Soldiers patrolled constantly, curfews were strictly enforced, and the governor’s authority reached into every corner of the town. Yet beyond its walls, travelers spoke of near-lawless conditions—banditry, abandoned villages, and isolated settlements surviving through uneasy alliances with whoever could protect them.
The party remained in Menkan for several weeks gathering information. Rumors concerning Gwinch were plentiful but contradictory. Some described him as a defender of frontier villages; others hinted that he had become entangled in darker affairs. Everyone agreed on only two points: he now lived in a jungle settlement called Quitokai, and reaching it would not be easy.
By the time they departed Menkan, Sansar’s escort had fallen away entirely, leaving a much smaller expedition. The company now consisted of Beatriss, Tetsukichi, Afu and his assistant Ju-Mei, Naron of the Steppes, Al-Fitar, the increasingly insufferable newlyweds Golfo and Phi Phong, and Tsao Ho of the Shining Mountain Path Monastery together with ten disciple monks.
They followed a broad dirt road that traced the course of the Lam River through largely empty country. Signs of former cultivation appeared everywhere—collapsed terraces, burned farmhouses, irrigation works overtaken by weeds. They also found evidence of why so much land had been abandoned. One morning they passed the body of a dead man lying beside the road, pierced with arrows and already half-picked apart by carrion birds.
Near midday the same day, they were ambushed.
Arrows erupted from the brush along the roadside, cutting down several of Tsao Ho’s monks in the opening volley. Rather than retreat, the party spurred their horses directly into the attack. The brigands broke quickly once engaged at close quarters. Most were killed; several fled into the trees. One prisoner was taken alive.
The captive proudly proclaimed himself a member of the Black Flowers, boasting that his brothers would avenge him. The party questioned him only briefly. When he later escaped into the undergrowth during the march, no one bothered to pursue him.
By evening they reached Bùqiāng bīng, a small riverside settlement dominated by an impressive stone temple. The inhabitants were polite but unmistakably wary of outsiders. At the inn, however, the travelers met several merchants who claimed familiarity with Quitokai and with Gwinch himself. They offered to guide the party there, but Beatriss declined. The men shrugged.
“Then simply follow the river,” they said. “You will arrive soon enough.”
The advice proved questionable.
For the next five days the party traveled downstream along the Lam, heading south and west through increasingly isolated country. Along the way they encountered first a lone wanderer who shared their fire for a night, then a group of weather-beaten soldiers who demanded five taels apiece for “travel papers.” Both insisted the party was moving in the wrong direction.
Eventually Beatriss and Tetsukichi concluded that either they had misunderstood the merchants at Bùqiāng bīng or that the directions had been intentionally vague. They turned back upstream toward the great fork where two tributaries joined the Lam from the north and east.
There they discovered the substantial settlement of Kāi'ěrwén, which they had previously bypassed.
In Kāi'ěrwén, the road to Quitokai was widely known, though difficult to describe to outsiders. A merchant preparing to travel there offered to guide the party in exchange for protection against bandits. Conditions around the jungle settlements, he explained, had deteriorated badly. Hunter tribes from the deep forests had begun raiding agricultural villages along the frontier.
When Beatriss mentioned that she knew Gwinch, the merchant reacted with visible relief. He spoke of the foreigner with admiration touched by uncertainty, praising him for helping organize Quitokai’s defenses against the raids. Yet even in praise there lingered hesitation, as though no one was entirely certain what Gwinch had become.
Before departure, the merchant suggested they visit a local temple and receive traveling blessings. Beatriss agreed, though she remained faintly suspicious of the proposal. The ritual itself proved entirely ordinary: a modest ceremony at a small temple devoted to the Path. Nothing seemed amiss.
Afterward, however, the merchant abruptly changed his mind. He apologized and announced that the omens were unfavorable for travel. He would remain behind after all.
Instead, he provided careful directions, explained the advantages and dangers of several possible routes, and ended with a final warning:
“The people of Quitokai do not trust strangers. And they are very good at protecting themselves.”
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
Play Report: Khanbaliq to Menkan
The caravan traveled south from Khanbaliq for several weeks without major incident. Everyone had reasons to welcome the city’s disappearance behind them. Some hoped for imperial commissions or titles. Others dreamed simply of cleaner air, better grazing lands, distance from court intrigue, or the chance to live beyond the reach of the Emperor’s politics. Golfo and Phi Phong were newlyweds.
Yet as they entered Chu Yuan Province, the journey became steadily more difficult. Years of neglect and misrule had hollowed out both the countryside and the spirit of its people. Villages stood half-abandoned. Irrigation ditches had collapsed into mud. Farmers watched the passing herds with resentment, and townspeople greeted travelers associated with the distant Emperor with suspicion or outright hostility.
The farther south they traveled, the sharper the tensions became. Though Anca Sansar’s warriors were strong enough to defend the caravan, the khan preferred not to spill blood merely to protect grazing animals from starving peasants. He therefore divided the company.
The larger body of the caravan—most of the civilians, the bulk of the herds, many of the warriors, and families including Beatriss’s children and servants as well as Tetsukichi’s wife and infant daughter—would turn northwest and take the longer route around the Lincang Mountains toward the grazing lands that were their ultimate destination.
Sansar himself retained only twenty or thirty riders and herders, and a small goat herd. With this reduced but still formidable company, he would escort Beatriss and Tetsukichi toward the southwestern frontier by a more dangerous but less populated mountain route.
The crossing proved arduous. Snow still lingered in the high passes, and several storms forced the travelers to shelter among bare stone ridges where the wind cut through wool and leather alike. On the second morning, herders discovered unfamiliar footprints crossing a nearby snowfield—too large for wolves, too deliberate for ordinary animals.
During the worst of the storms, the caravan found refuge in a ruined stone outpost left behind by some earlier empire. They remained there for several days while supplies dwindled and the passes cleared. A few goats were slaughtered for meat. No one complained, though the silence around the fires grew heavier with each day.
After nearly ten days in the mountains, the travelers descended at last into the southern valleys and reached Menkan, the final imperial town of Chu Yuan.
Sansar Anca parted from them there. He intended to rejoin his herds farther west, while Beatriss and Tetsukichi would continue toward the frontier settlements where rumors placed Gwinch. Their farewell was brief and practical; everyone understood that the roads ahead would likely separate them for a long time.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Khanbaliq Play Report: Final week in Khanbaliq
In the weeks following the affair of Phi Phong and the rumors surrounding Fun Town, life in Khanbaliq became increasingly unsettled. No single event drove Beatriss and Tetsukichi toward departure; rather, the city itself seemed to shift beneath them, old loyalties loosening and new dangers gathering in the spaces between ordinary life.
Phi Phong, for all her charm, finally pushed too far with her father-in-law, Anca Sansar. The khan had indulged Golfo and his beautiful wife out of affection and amusement, but he had no intention of simply granting his adopted son rank or responsibility he had not earned. In irritation, he threatened to cast both Golfo and his nephew Tetsukichi out of the household altogether so they might “go into the world and make names for themselves properly.”
Meanwhile, Afu remained convinced that Gwinch had become deeply involved in the slave raids along the southwestern frontier. Whether through corruption, enchantment, or divided loyalties, the priest believed Gwinch was no longer acting in the Empire’s interest.
At the same time, imperial scrutiny within Khanbaliq intensified. One morning guards arrived unexpectedly at Anca’s compound to conduct formal questioning. Beatriss accompanied her uncle out of family obligation and was herself questioned about her history in the city and her political associations. When asked about her engagement to Buyuk, she answered coolly that she did not know him well, and since he did not appear serious in his intentions, she considered the understanding between them finished.
Not all developments were ominous. During another excursion into Fun Town, Phi Phong demonstrated a subtler side of her peculiar talents. When an intoxicated street tough began making unwanted advances toward her, she gently redirected his attention toward a stray dog lounging nearby.
“Isn’t she more your type?”
The man immediately abandoned Phi Phong and spent the next several minutes affectionately praising the animal. Oddly enough, the incident reassured Beatriss. Whatever Phi Phong’s powers were, they did not seem wholly malicious.
Elsewhere in the city, rumors spread that members of the Zipangese diplomatic community—mostly clerks and minor officials—were quietly disappearing into imperial custody. Around the same time, the newly appointed abbot of the Monastery of the Two-Fold Path paid an unexpected visit seeking assistance with a growing infestation of monstrous ants beneath the monastery grounds.
Then came the imperial summons.
Tetsukichi was called to the Imperial City and escorted into a stark interrogation chamber where officials questioned him about his loyalties, his travels, and his intentions. During the interview he mentioned, almost casually, that he had considered leaving Khanbaliq to visit relatives in the southwestern borderlands.
The response was immediate.
“Oh? Then perhaps we have work for you.”
The Emperor himself, it seemed, had grown concerned about conditions along the frontier. Slavery was never mentioned directly. Instead, the officials spoke of governors and generals who had fallen from imperial favor after extended service in the southwest. First Governor Kawabi, then General Goyat, and now perhaps even Gwinch himself had become compromised in some way after arriving there.
Tetsukichi was ordered south to discover what was happening and to punish any traitors he found.
Anca Sansar had already begun making preparations to leave the capital himself. Within days the household became a frenzy of movement: wagons loaded, horses shod, tents packed, herds gathered. The caravan that finally assembled outside Khanbaliq was enormous—Anca and his family, warriors and retainers, wives and children, servants, monks from the Emperor’s court, and finally Beatriss, Tetsukichi, and all those who had attached themselves to their fortunes over the previous years.
Before their departure, Buyuk sent Beatriss a letter apologizing for his failures and asking her to reconsider leaving the city. She attempted one final meeting in the Imperial City, but was informed that he was unavailable. In response, she left only a brief farewell message.
And so, beneath a pale spring sky, the caravan departed Khanbaliq in a long cloud of dust, leaving behind the unfinished capital, its intrigues, and the haunted ruins beyond its walls.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Khanbaliq Play Report: Beatriss and Tetsukichi's Guide to Fun Town AND Family Life
Although Beatriss’s nemesis Madam Guto has finally been “dealt with,” Beatriss and Tetsukichi soon realized that not all problems could be solved with a sword. Most troublesome was one of the former sing-song girls from Guto’s establishment, a young woman named Phi Phong.
Phi Phong was beautiful, certainly, but that alone did not concern them. Khanbaliq was full of beautiful people. What disturbed them was the effect she seemed to have on others. Men who met her became unusually attached to her—protective, eager to please, almost grateful simply to be near her.
Their companion Golfo, impulsive even by his own standards, had married her after a very brief courtship. That in itself might have been dismissed as typical of a man who, having missed several opportunities to die young, had committed all the more to living fast. More unsettling was the reaction of Anca Sansar, Tetsukichi’s uncle and khan of the household. Sansar openly favored the couple, elevating the rough, low-born Golfo almost overnight. He formally adopted him as a son and seemed especially delighted by Phi Phong’s presence in the household, granting her honors far beyond what her station would ordinarily allow.
Concerned, Tetsukichi sought counsel from Afu, the sun priest who had aided them before. He hoped Afu might divine whether Phi Phong possessed some supernatural influence. But Afu had his own concerns.
First, he believed that Gwinch, the foreign sohei, had become involved in slaving operations along the southwestern frontier. Second, he suspected that Fun Town—the sprawling entertainment district outside the labor camps—served as a covert base for the mysterious Slavelords.
Beatriss and Tetsukichi agreed to investigate.
Following rumors gathered from drunken laborers, they made their way through the crowded alleys of Fun Town until they reached a tavern called The White Warrior. The food was greasy, and the patrons loud enough to discourage careful listening. But while Tetsukichi watched the room, Beatriss struck up a conversation with a monk seated nearby.
When she mentioned Phi Phong and her strange effect on people, the monk nodded with immediate interest. Yes, he said, he knew someone who might help determine the source of such powers. In fact, he was on his way there now—to the Monastery of the Two-Fold Path, just outside the city walls. He would gladly guide them.
The offer came too quickly.
Beatriss politely declined. The pair finished their meal and returned home, treating the encounter as a likely attempt to lure them into an ambush.
For several days afterward, life returned to something like normality. Tetsukichi’s infant daughter, born during the winter, was formally named in a household ceremony presided over by Afu. The rites were solemn and joyful, and afterward the priest found some time speaking privately with Phi Phong, in hopes of divining the source of her strange powers.
Later, he reported his conclusions to Beatriss.
Phi Phong, he said, seemed like an exceptionally kind and delightful young woman—warm-hearted, generous, and possessed of uncommon grace. In fact, Afu added with complete sincerity, she appeared blessed by the Gun God himself.
Beatriss listened in silence.
Afterward, she resolved very firmly that Phi Phong would never be left alone with her children.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Play report: The really bad thing about cobras spitting poison in yourface . . .
Our party (two fighters, an elf, and a cleric) took refuge for the night in what seemed to be a nice enough place—no beasties, secure doors, and enough room to stretch our limbs a little. But doors secure against other people are not secure against spitting cobras. We had a watch, but we were badly prepared for the surprise intrusion. The potion we’d purchased in town saved the life of Lobo the fighter, but Aberdeen was blinded. (The cobras got all deaded.)
Also, although "special pants" are a good defense against cobra spit, rubbing the pants on your already-damaged eyes is inefficacious.
With a mixture of defiance and fatalism, we got up, put on our armor, and delved deeper. Aberdeen accepted his new role as torch bearer and walked with one hand on someone’s shoulder.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
SNAKES! And chutes, and ladders. Also rats.
A long-time player took a turn at running a game last week and she's doing a great job running a dungeon based on the "chutes/snakes & ladders" boardgame. This may be her entry to the one-page dungeon contest so I won't give too much away, but will instead talk about my character . . .
On second thought, I'll make this brief: his name is Aberdeen, he's fighter, and his movement rate is 3.
This is the first time I've applied encumberance with any exactness. The Labyrinth Lord rules make it inexcusably easy to calculate and the GM said we should know how much we weigh. Chainmail, shield, weapons, food & water plus standard dungeon equipment like rope and torches. And I'm encumbered!