"Can you separate the art from the artist?" - When did people start saying this? 2013? 2014?
The answer is of course: yes. Art can be separated from its artist sure as flesh can be separated from its bones - Time will manage both.
Can you separate a ripple from its river? More interesting question. The spirit passes through the artist and becomes immanent as art. The artist disappears, the art dissolves - the spirit is etched on the foundation of the world to come. Good system, no notes.
I of course am no artist - I am a vulture. The breath of the spirit is my updraft. I strip the flesh from carrion and crap above people's heads.
I eat, and I crap! Can anything grow from these leavings?:
Starting off strong, very sultry gnome - I prefer a more whimsical gnome, but if there are gno gnome defenders then I am dead.
"Crocmen may advance to level 8. At level 8 they may build and stock their own Dungeon, attracting up to 8HD worth of creatures, who may be replaced if they are killed. For every 100K XP after reaching level 8 they may attract an additional 8HD worth of creatures." - good, very good...
The Gentleman - orthogo-Thiefish - Fascinates, Performs, Pretends, Blends, rather than skulking in shadows...
"At level 10, [Shyguys] may assemble an Engine, a land-going vessel which can house a deceptively large number of Shyguys (up to 100), has AC -3/21, can absorb 10+1 HD of damage, and does damage equal to the Shyguy General's hit points. For every million points of XP a Shyguy acquires beyond level 10" - good like the Crocman's capstone ability - like these alternatives to getting a castle or what have you as the transition to domain play
Seen quite a few familiar classes... there should be a familiar class where the familiar is the one granting the magic, like a devil thing... random table for bumbling magician who has sold their soul to you... you can't really use your magic on your own so you need to cajole your magician into doing it for you...
The Evolutionist - silly class - turns small animals into warriors or weapons - feels like a Power Rangers villain
Neat take on level drain, making it more like sanity, particularly sanity in Fallout: Frost - worse at being a person, better at being a violent psychopath, until at "name level" of level drain you become a full-blown monster
There is a post on "Amber" which no longer exists and makes understanding other posts which link to it harder to understand
"When a Time Lord is reduced to 0HP make a save vs. Death Ray. On a successful save you Regenerate. Roll d100; if you roll above your Constitution, you survive and take on a new form. You keep your XP and levels but re-roll all ability scores and re-roll your HP. You may do this 12 times. Everyone at the table except you gets to describe some new affectation of dress or personality quirk by which you must now abide."
The household spirit, the domovoi, is the reason that vampires can't just barge into homes - their unclean spirits are barred
A voice not like anyone else's in the blogosphere, often confabulatory, mournful & horrific.
Gnomes as racist caricatures that elves and dwarves have for each other brought to life, and then of caricatures of gnomes brought to life again
The Dreamself - the character your character becomes while asleep
Name levels are fun, gotta do more name levels
A "race" or "race-as-class" or somesuch, but the "race" is that you are played by a celebrity - Jason Statham for example
Factions formed based on who blames who for some recent & unnatural event
Too many angels answering everyone's prayers, thing go very poorly
"Diseases of the Tiger Men
1- Butcher Blue- Your skin begins to fester and discolor, and you become something of a pussy magnet for botflies, which are the Worst Thing. 2- Spit- You forget what water is. You try to drink everything on the off chance it's water. Your body thinks you are waterlogged, and you will drool and pee yourself to death. 3- Ropeburn- Long, delicate, knotty tumors filllllled with nerve endings start growing quickly from all over your body, wearing any armor hurts you a lot and you take an extra HP of damage per day, cumulative, when you're hurt, because these things are real bleeders. 4- Tunnelvision- You gain darkvision but lose all other vision, and can no longer see well enough to read without drastic assistance and tools. 5- Pearling- Your bones increase to twice their size, many fusing in the process. Your teeth become one calcified plate, a beak. Your skin develops a hard crust, and moving enough to break that crust makes you bleed. Your blood hardens. Within days you are in a tomb of yourself, waiting to die. 6- Alabaster Fever- Magical tourettes, save vs magic or randomly cast one of your spells."
Gelatinous cubes are only cube-shaped within dungeon architecture - outside towering omnipresent invisible devouring
Here is the full text of the post "The Face of Edsu Voi", because letting it just disappear would be criminal:
In the beginning there was nothing.
Outside
the nothing were gods, the beings who made all things possible by their
existence. That is, the act of their existence, the moment of their
existence: they were, and the universe therefore was. Cause not
separated from effect. Each all powerful yet always there is a first
among equals.
Think
back to the great idea you had, never acted on, then one day it's being
advertised on late night television. Inside a year it's in every store.
Inside three every home in the country has it in their cabinets. Think
about the time you forgot the name of that one guy from your favorite
movie. It's your favorite ever, how could you forget his name? You know
you can remember it if they just give you the chance. They don't, and
now you look like a schmuck.
In
the beginning there was nothing. You were the ultimate unrealized
potential. You dwelt within the halls in yourself for time out of
meaning, meaning out of time. The riddle of your existence was the
riddle of the universe. Knowing it is knowing the shape of the perfect
world. You are so close. When you know the world will begin, the perfect
world, you are so close and...
Think back to the time you were just about to create the universe and then some other fucker jumped in and ruined it.
We
were so close to the perfect world of Edsu Voi. Edsu Voi was so close
to the perfection of being Edsu Voi perfected. Now reality was locked
into a course of inevitable entropy and destruction, and she along with
it. This did not deter Edsu Voi, who resolved even before the fires
settled to save the universe, to save all life forever, to save herself
and her brother gods, and to make everything as right as it was meant to
be.
She
would do this by aiding entropy, speeding extinction, beckoning
disaster...subtly, always; not causing bedlam or outright killing
kingdoms but stalling and thwarting the efforts of those who would hold
back the unavoidable decay of all. Everything would be terrible
eventually, which meant that, later, everything would be okay. There
would be nothing then, and by that point Edsu Voi would have worked out
the answer to her riddle. Every person would be the perfect person they
should have been, every sunset more glorious than the last, forever.
Some
people did not appreciate her hand in things and avenged their lieges
and loved ones upon Edsu Voi. Avalanches she set in motion thousands of
years ago are still toppling over but she has been dead above ground for
a century, the light not gone from her eyes, still breathing her last
rattle while her breast and throat are impaled on a mountain range.
Still thinking about that perfect world...
You
could do what she could not: use her knowledge, her power, her vision,
but with an eye of mercy and acceptance for the world that is. You could
make everyone safe. You could also hook your fingers into the strings
woven for epochs, connected to puppets not to be born for an age, and
with a great heave pull everything apart, dragging the world into ash
and cold.
First you have to get inside her head. The gods are not big on figurative language so pack some rope and a pickaxe.
The Corner of Her Eye
Edsu
Voi saw things we could not. The shape of things that should have been.
Everything that could ever be for everything that ever was. That is how
she saw her killers: not as the desperate or the lucky but as demigods
(no, gods themselves), perfect agents of order and power. They killed
her with the knowledge of what they might have been. Few who dare strike
against the gods ever survive this hubris, and the killers of Edsu Voi
are no different...
The
eye is like a mirror. The eye is like a camera. The eye is like neither
of these. The eye is an aperture through which light plays shapes,
light which may burn forever. The eyes of gods are a thing above, as is
the light of the gods, and so the shadows burned forever there are
deeper darks. Some burn there still.
Burning
light and searing god-thought: to see and know a thing for Edsu Voi was
to see all possibilities. The degenerate, the nonviable, the diseased
and mutated, the wracked and monstrous. Her murderers were able to
destroy Edsu Voi because she saw herself in them. She was avenged after
her killers saw themselves in her. A reflection out of shape, warped
backwards glint, in the corner of her eye.
The Skin of Her Teeth
The
gods were born ready to eat. They were born with their senses to
experience the world they made (and by which they were made). They were
born with a flesh form to interact with that world. They were born with
bones to support that form. The gods were also born with teeth and teeth
are only there to kill or destroy with. Teeth are a core principle of
the universe, as much as gravity or fire.
You
are a thing without a mind which has existed since before minds in the
conventional sense. You are an elemental form of the universe which has
done one thing for time immaterial. Now you aren't.
This won't do at all. Still, one must change with the times.
From
your flesh is born a new life, the only life Edsu Voi truly has left in
her. All they are is Eat. They are indiscriminate. They have turned on
the body of Edsu Voi herself but they are glad of any new meat, such as
the things which show up to naturally degrade and decay the body of Edsu
Voi...or those who come to plunder her.
These
Eat grow in strange directions, little monsters budding off of them.
They, like all in Edsu Voi, are slowly fading from this world. Rotting.
They fight this as they have done everything since time started up: Eat.
Your flesh is appreciated but it's not why they're chasing you. It's
not what they need, what fills them with blood and skin...after a
fashion.
They
smell your bones. They want to drink them. They vampires of calcium,
they stalagmite lopers, the hunger of all space, the skin of her teeth.
The Back of Her Mind
The
gods hold grudges better than most because the gods remember
everything. This was doubly true for Edsu Voi, she who hates all
creation for its own good from beyond her open grave. Every world have
the watched scoured of life and thought. One another have they all
glimpsed being born, in the fullness of their glory and worship and
power, and at the precipice of nothingness. It should not need
explaining, in the arteries of Edsu Voi, that the gods themselves can
die. There are kinds of death, though. Some gods die while they are
still alive. Some gods die when they are utterly forgotten by the rest
of the universe.
Gods remember everything.
The
fatty gray within Edsu Voi's skull writhes angrily and urgently. It
pulses with a sense of No. No, Do Not Forget Us. The mind of a god is
final temple and consecrated crypt of a hundred smaller gods, weaker
gods, those cast out by their believers or lost to cataclysm. The
forcibly forgotten have refuge in the temple of the eternals only, but
the inkling of their memory will not last without the considered
nostalgia of infinity. No, No Do Not Forget Us.
Each
great deed they died before working, every miracle or smiting that
never happened, the fear and love they never had, the memories of the
gods long for all these things. Here in the mental temple they will be
just ravenous for anyone who can know them, understand them, listen to
them. The thought of them will lodge itself in your mind, riding you out
into the world. For those willing to be their arm and pledge their
service? For them, these one mighty will pledge themselves with equal
fervor. They long for life and scream for worships, silently, trapped in
thunder and thought at the back of her mind.
The Bridge of Her Nose
You
are not the first to see the opportunity afforded by the corpse of Edsu
Voi. A great expedition was mounted for the cost of a castle, quartered
here on the face of Edsu Voi. The walls of this camp were made thick
against the dangers inherent in life on a god. When forces from within
and without, horrible creatures and others seeking power or fortune,
laid siege to this modest keep a surprising thing happened: those within
the fortress survived. The dangers atop the mountains, on the face of
Edsu Voi, conspired so to frustrate one another. Slowly the weapons and
camps meant to crumble this camp have instead been bolted on at crude
angles as inexpert expansions.
Many
have come to her seeking sanctuary since. They have been turned away.
Some have come hoping to sack her, reap the rewards of other people's
labor. They have been denied. A very few mad persons for reasons lost to
the distant kingdoms whence they hail have scaled the mountains and
dared the climb up Edsu Voi to offer their body and soul in defense of
this strange bastion. They have been welcomed in with open arms.
Within
this keep they are drilling down. They will harvest the wisdom and
might of Edsu Voi from within their unassailable shell, the execution of
their mad grand scheme made possible by the protection of the men who
hold the bridge of her nose.
The Ringing in Her Ears
The
creating of all for all time was a cacophonous affair, most people
agree. They don't know the half of it. The divine sound of the gods
scream singing themselves into being, the worlds wrapped around them
like a pearl, shakes inside the walls of every tree, rock, fire, wind.
This is figurative, but the gods are not. In every supplication, each
sacrifice, all calamity or music, they hear echoes of the chime of
creation.
Some
surmise that it is the sound of themselves being created which sustains
the gods, confers their divinity. This is not quite true but it is true
enough to go looking.
In
the bedlam of the world-making reverberations which still thrum in the
deep reaches of her skull pilgrims to Edsu Voi revel in a limited
godhood. They hear in the whispers of the cosmos the recipes of all
making. The miracles they can perform, the wonders they can achieve!
They are gods and they are prisoners, for when they venture outward and
the echo in her bones fades so does the magic of their divinity.
Miracles undone, starved for the power their skin knew moments ago, near
deaf to all other sensation, they scramble back desperately to reclaim
the music of the spheres.
They are a small and cramped pantheon there. Junkies for sacred transcendence. Addicts to the ringing in her ears.
The Question On Her Lips
The
easiest means of entry to Edsu Voi is through her great mouth, which is
haunted by the literal spirit of the Perfect Edsu Voi, the dying breath
of Edsu Voi hanging still in the air. The Herself she once intended to
raise can now never be unless formed in the shape of space by another;
she is almost nonexistent, but is glimpsed and known by few, will be
glimpsed and known by many more, and so in this way endures.
She
will challenge any who come, forbidding them her power. She has
knowledge of each person she meets, as well as everything which has
happened or will happen to her corpse. This is rumored. If the intruders
ignore her, she will plainly make this known. She trades a question for
a question: she will ask you something and your answer buys you an
answer from her. What drives you? What do you seek within? In what
manner shall you prevail? This is a saccharine trap. Save to ignore
temptation and walk away. Answer, forfeiting your chance at escape, and
forfeit some aspect of yourself. Your courage drives you; now you have
lost it. You seek raw power; the power of Edsu Voi engulfs you. You
shall use powerful magics of the Archdeacon's Fleshbook; there is no
more power in your mind, and the beings within may use these magics
against you.
Everything
you give of yourself is taken by the potential of Edsu Voi. As it grows
in strength so does the actuality of Edsu Voi. Feed her ghost long
enough and the flesh will know its old life
and so in this way endures through the question on her lips.
The Pain In Her Neck
Doldr
Drumn. Doldr Dreng. Doldr Ddi. Crown peaks of the Doldr mountain range,
the Angry Sisters of local folklore, boundary of living rock between
Irium and Belene. The faces of these mountains were alive with small
villages despite the dangers of lurking near the summit. It is upon
these Angry Sisters that Edsu Voi is impaled.
Parties
from both Irium and Belene have been dispatched to claim the secrets of
Edsu Voi or merely mine her god flesh. Some of these parties even
returned with value to show for their efforts. Both city-states lay
claim to ownership of a goddess. The hill people whose homes were
destroyed when Edsu Voi was destroyed have become desperate and
scavenging refugees barred from both sides. On these, Edsu Voi takes
pity, and they roam within her looking for food, shelter, or solace.
They are tired of despair and as hungry as feral dogs.
Within
the mountain the golden blood of the Doldr churns and reaches, angrily,
up through the crust of the world, out through the skin of a god.
Seeking and burning, these scorching shapes pull parts of her down into
the heart of the world for fuel, powering the battle within the mountain
against the strain of a goddess' weight.
Wolves take refuge in caverns made of meat.
Those
who do not respect the dangers inherent in desecrating a god are likely
doomed to a speedy demise. Those who think themselves the only persons
clever or desperate enough to do so find themselves in a world of pain
in her neck.
The Tip of Her Tongue
The
promise of Edsu Voi is a word of perfect creation. She has been waiting
to speak it for almost the life of the universe. With this power one
can become their perfect self, or unmake the world by remaking it from
underneath: everything that is and was still stands save for a few
certain changes designed by the speaker. Perhaps the unmaking of
something is enough of a prize to be won.
To
find the raw energy of creation within Edsu Voi and to not only locate
but understand the perfect schema she devised would be a feat
unparalleled in our time. Will the power fall to some despot if you do
not act? Will some lucky idiot waste the fortunes of the gods on avarice
or caprice? Even if one did not desire the fruits of godly power to
stand idly by while those unscrupulous and unworthy claimed it to the
ruin of nations would be an apex sin.
Someone
can rewrite the world. Who would you permit to speak the secret Edsu
Voi has kept for ages, the almost-universe on the tip of her tongue?
in a sealed habitat atop a tower taller than the sky
and thinner than a needle, beyond even the meagre warmth of the upper
air, descending from it on the back of a steel centipede.
2
on the verge of a rift in reality that leads to the
negative energy plane, a sucking wound in the world where heat and life
seep away.
3
in a fleet of icebergs hollowed out and converted into dreadnoughts.
4
in log cabins and longhouses in the taiga.
5
on the tundra in tents made from the skins and bones of dragons and other great beasts of the wastes.
6
in a glacier-castle above the snow line of a mountain.
D6
These frost giants have
1
tusks and broad, sharp claws, the better to chip through permafrost and rimy meat with.
2
snowflake patterns burned into their skin.
3
withered noses, ears, and lips, as if they’ve got frostbite.
4
broad antlers decked with lichen.
5
translucent bluish flesh, their organs visible as brilliant sapphires within.
6
stocky limbs and dull grey skin with a thick layer of blubber beneath.
D6
These frost giants are led by
1
a king elected at a decennial assembly called the
skardthing, where warriors compete to show off their most impressive
scar and the story behind it.
2
a weeping prophetess encased in a pillar of ice. She is
able to communicate using only her eyes, which are kept unfrozen by the
warmth of her tears.
3
an inspired poet-chief who is able to weave an irresistably compelling metanarrative for their society.
4
a polar hag, who draws her magic from the act of dividing unities into mutually-destructive opposites.
5
a magnetic medium who can channel the plasmic intelligences of the aurora.
6
raider-plutocrats who buy their influence with stolen wealth.
D6
These frost giants can
1
curse their enemies with a frozen heart that feels no warmth or joy or love.
2
cryogenically freeze themselves, acquiring an odd sort of immortality until they thaw.
3
freeze the air itself into arms and armour.
4
shroud themselves in a sudden blizzard.
5
call up the ravenous spirits that turn cannibals into ghouls.
6
return from death as ice-cold draugr to avenge
themselves if they’re murdered, and raise those they kill as the same as
undead thralls.
D6
These frost giants tame
1
the winds, using them to carry messages, spy, and harass trespassers on their territory.
2
woolly rhinos, which they harness to pull their fir-and-ivory chariots.
3
wolverines, finding their aggression to be cute.
4
snow monkeys, which they train to fetch drinks, smooth out coats, and perform other little chores and tricks.
5
yetis, putting them in crude armour and chasing them into battle as shock troops.
6
dire foxes as big as wolves, using them to flush out prey.
D6
These frost giants enjoy
1
binge drinking accompanied by contests of belching and flatulence.
2
ice-skating as well as a literally bone-crunching sport that's sort of like hockey.
3
lounging in saunas and hot springs.
4
skiing and causing avalanches.
5
riddles and word games.
6
feasts of fermented fish and waterbirds.
Bonus - What even are giants, and why are there so many kinds of them?:
D6
What even are giants?
1
A new generation of nephilim, hybrid experiments created with the angels captured in Sodom.
2
The favoured servants of the gods, bolstered to withstand their glory.
3
Sapient fragments of the primordial titian who was butchered to make the world.
4
An attempt by a forgotten empire to breed a race of supersoldiers.
5
Fey creatures exiled from Fairyland for their coarseness.
6
Descendants of a tribe of former gods thrown down to earth by victorious rivals in the celestial realms.
D6
Why are there so many kinds of giant?
1
They instinctually draw on local geomantic flows to
supplement the energy they get from food. This is turn causes them to
reflect their environment.
2
They must make pacts with the dominant spirits of the land they’re in to keep from collapsing under their own weight.
3
Their particular growth makes them prone to mutation and speciation.
4
Their inherent magic makes their flesh mildly
psychoreactive, like a psychedelic trip, prone to being influenced by
set and setting.
5
There aren’t, in truth. Humans have simply mistook
different giant cultures in different environments for different
essential kinds, in the same way that a giant might believe a person
from Finland to be a “frost human”.
6
They’ve got severe sectarian tendencies and will
deliberately alter themselves on an essential level to distinguish
themselves from other groups of giants.
centuries ago at the command of a pope who's been erased from the history books, as the bridgehead of a crusade against Hell.
2
as the subterranean acoustic healing sanitarium of a wealthy cult.
3
as an experimental geothermal power plant.
4
as a deep underground neutrino observatory.
5
by a billionaire survivalist who was torn apart by a mob before they could make it to the shelter.
6
as part of a Keynesian make-work program during a recession - it was never expected to be used.
D6
The disaster which drove people into this fallout shelter
1
was entirely imaginary, though no less disastrous - a perfect storm of mass psychological manipulation and hysteria.
2
was a bioweapon unleashed by transhuman elites who'd made themselves too alien to be affected by it.
3
was the lifting of the holographic veil which created
the illusion of the universe beyond our solar system, and the terror of
the true night sky which followed.
4
was the truly unfortunate combination of a meteor impact setting off the eruption of a super-volcano.
5
was microbes being released which were meant to break
microplastics down into harmless sub-particles - unfortunately due to a
mutation when the microbes reached a critical mass they merged into a
globe-spanning plasmodium which converted microplastics into a lethal
gas that filled the atmosphere.
6
was a network of orbital weapon satellites going rogue and bombarding population centers around the globe.
D6
This fallout shelter is sustained
1
by a highly-efficient recycling system that transmutes
its inhabitants' waste back into edible nutrient-paste. Even with its
efficiency the system requires the occasional human sacrifice to lessen
the load on it & replenish its stocks.
2
by an enormous stock of non-perishables - by now reduced to a worryingly-low level.
3
by a hydroponic farm - recent yields have been of such poor quality that many are becoming paranoid of sabotage.
4
by a cloning bank meant to help repopulate the Earth - now used only for making meat.
5
by a drill-well dug way deep down into an underground sea - its life slurped up and mashed into slop for the shelter.
6
by eating the contents of a Noah's Ark-esque zoo & seed bank annexed to the shelter.
D6
This fallout shelter is controlled
1
by an AI wired into all its systems - and by anyone who
has learned to construct arguments in its arcane logic, and learned it
well enough to out-argue everyone else who also has.
2
by an unassuming old lady who holds no official
position but is able to play the other inhabitants of the shelter off
each other masterfully to achieve her aims and amusement.
3
by an epileptic child-prophet who suffers genuinely-precognizant dreams.
4
by a squad of mixed martial artists who melted all the weapons into slag, so they could rule by the strength of their fists.
5
by a celebrity whose fandom has spread throughout the population.
6
by a mechanical system of buttons and levers and dials
and so on, all contained within an extra-fortified command room - an
agoraphobic NEET has barricaded himself inside, and demands to be
provided with food and new comic books in exchange for not destroying
the shelter.
D6
The people in this fallout shelter
1
go about topless and tattooed with fragments of sunsets
and sunrises, so that in their mingling and passing they might create
true-enough glimpses of the world they lost.
2
speak in a strange accent which developed organically
among them, and prevents the sound of speech from propagating through
tight spaces.
3
carry a few taxidermied dogs and cats, and dote over them like babies.
4
carry chemically-scented nosegays to give respite from the shelter's stale air.
5
invent new names and backstories for themselves and each other as a delicate and competitive art-form.
6
have, in the absence of intoxicating substances,
discovered highly-complex math problems that get you high when you try
to solve them.
D6
This fallout shelter is threatened by
1
people knocking on its doors every night, promising the situation on the outside isn't as bad as they think.
2
a serial killer anonymous and active among them.
3
its own inhabitants' reckless expansion into the surrounding stone.
4
an increasingly-militant movement among its
politically-dissatisfied, pushing for the implementation of formal
democracy and laws.
5
a rash of ghost sightings - ghosts of those related to those within the shelter, those left behind.
6
tectonic activity cracking open a barely-wriggleable rift to the surface.
have stiff grey hair and stocky bodies, like mules.
2
have black-and-white stripes like zebras.
3
are stunted like ponies.
4
are slim and pretty like Arabian horses.
5
have long wooly coats like Bashkir Curlies.
6
are huge and heavily-muscled like percherons.
D6
These centaurs are led
1
by a sage who tutoured several human heroes, and came to regret sharing their knowledge.
2
by the high priest of a sky-god, who can gallop on the wind as if it were solid ground.
3
by a dreaming seer who as a filly-child suffered the bite of a magic fly which put her into an endless sleep.
4
by an enchanted, intelligent saddle who has seen thousands of years of war, and has grown quite sick of it.
5
by an apostate knight who once served a militant monastic order in a distant land.
6
by a beat-up and world-wise ex-circus performer.
D6
These centaurs roam
1
wherever they wish, for they hold the whole of the
earth to be their property, an attitude which has won them no friends
and winnowed their numbers.
2
between hills where wild grapes and olives grow, crushing them underhoof into oil and wine.
3
a stretch of the underworld blasted out by harsh winds,
where redwood-thick columns of stone stand in the midst of sharp and
silken sands, and life sprouts in the nutritious surface-blown dust
around tarry seeps from even further down.
4
between forest and bog, chopping and burning down the forest and damming and dredging the bog to eke out an ashen grassland.
5
stone-carved steps and terraces, the fruit of a long conquest of impassable slopes into flat, trottable planes.
6
a plain where they are the undisputed masters thanks to their mobility, taking their pick of tariffs and plunder.
D6
These centaurs fight
1
like horse archers, only they're the horses and archers both.
2
with cannons they pull behind them on chariots, using back-mounted pulleys to aim and reload the cannons.
3
with hoof-mounted blades they kick wildly with.
4
hopped up on dried caterpillars, which make them foam
at the mouth and lose all fear so they can crush their enemies with
their greater mass.
5
with edged atlatl-esque polearms, which allow them to fling javelins with the momentum of their charge and then chop off limbs.
6
only as a last resort - preferring diplomacy, magic,
poison, fleeing, and suchlike - as their horse-parts are delicate &
heal poorly.
D6
These centaurs might be found with
1
straw horns of beans fermenting together with the meat of small animals - a centaur delicacy.
2
the hoof-shoes of fallen comrades, engraved and inlaid and bent to be worn as jewelry.
Tiring of the singular prize, I wish in my heart for an answer. The universe brought me to the More Prizes Door:
I am sworn to secrecy as to what I experienced beyond it, but perhaps some of these could be waiting for you. Waiting for you to find it. Waiting for you to open it.
1. Yellow Grinning Slime: Stick it to your cheeks and peel them back for a smile that will show the whole world. It will do your chewing for you.
2. The Ball: Really an egg. Ha ha! Kick to teach it the fear of you. When the hatching comes it will be too late.
3. Keys to The City: I hate it there. All cities are cloned from it, and malformed by differentials in telluric radiation. Full of ants now. Ants that dream.
4. Pulling Cheese: Aged like wine. It is not wine. Pull it and see it stretch stretch streeetch! Refreshes its flavour every noon.
5. Justin: He thought he would find refuge behind the door. There is no refuge to be found there, only more prizes. He is not long for this world.
6. Sticky Straw: Use it to spit bedbugs at your enemies. Others will be able to see the bedbugs, but your enemies never will. Great Pepsi taste.
7. Bouncer Interview: The only question is yes, or no. Benefits to decide who enters for more prizes, "live" forever on the threshold of the door.
8. Ticket to 1960: Your actions have already been accounted for.
9. Tiling Company: $1,200,000 YoY in revenues. Promising upcoming clients. Wish I got this one.
10. Hip: Good for any ossuary. Seeks to join your own.
11. Nectar: One of the drinks that make your belly intoxicating to the thinking numbers that make trees grow their rings. Ask them why they do it - I'm dying to know.
