Tuesday, February 17, 2026

Towards the Hoard of a Hundred Horrors: Couatls

Imagine that yesterday you were a human being, and today you are a worm - blind, deaf, mute, limbless, cast down into the dirt to wriggle about for morsels of shit.

That's a bit what it's like to be these guys, except that yesterday they were timeless and bodiless beings in a heaven of infinite wisdom and contemplation, and today they are winged serpents made of meat.

Why are they here? Are they on a mission? Is this a punishment? Is this the sacrifice they made to participate in the sensuous and temporal world? They don't quite know, their thoughts brushing against understandings too big to fit inside their new heads.

They read the stars and the guts of sacrifices for signs. These signs drive them to prophetic good and inhumanity.

They are

Couatls

HD: 9 AC: 15 ATK: 1d6 bite with Aging Venom and 1d12 tail swipe, plus The Stains of Time SAV: 12 MOV: As giant bird-snake INT: As smart alien ML: 8
No. Appearing: 1

Aging Venom: Save vs. poison - on a success you age 1d6 years, on a failure you age 2d6 years.

The Stains of Time: Once per round the couatl can use one ability from the following list. A couatl can only have one Stain of Time ability active at a time:

-Rewind - Heal any wound, disease, curse, or suchlike, but target loses all memories and XP gained since that thing was inflicted on them. Target can save to resist. A couatl cannot use this on themself.

-Stasis - Freeze a target in time for 1d4 rounds. Save to resist. The d4 is exploding, and each time it explodes its duration increases a step - from rounds to ten-minute turns to hours to days and so on.

-Desync - The image of the couatl moves ahead of its actual body. For 1d6 rounds the couatl is invisible while it sends forth an illusion of itself.

-Haste - The couatl can act twice on their turn. The strain causes them 2d6 damage. 

-Time Stop - The couatl stops time for everything else in the world for a subjective round. The couatl takes half their remaining HP as damage and must test morale to not go temporarily insane as the world of stopped time reminds them of their home. Attacks made by the couatl in stopped time automatically hit & deal maximum damage.

Monday, February 16, 2026

D8 Products from a Childhood

Fluff? On this blog? What can I say - I'm a fluffer: 

1. Osseo-Crunch: Originally "osseous composite digestible material no. 3", developed by the government of the United Kingdom in the 1930s in a public-private partnership with a consumer packaged goods company. It was meant to be an emergency ration additive in case Germany used biological warfare to attack the cow population of England & so on, and to provide a useful alternative disposal method for corpses.

As that worst-case scenario was never realized, its patent languished out of use for decades, until an American company purchased it in the 2010s. That company repurposed it for a breakfast cereal marketed towards demographics with higher levels of lactose intolerance, with the cereal's mascot Henry "Hahaha" Hyena promising that it's "the only cereal that doesn't need milk, because it's made of bones, and there's more than enough calcium in the bones!".

Osseo-Crunch tastes terrible, has a chalky texture, and only freaks eat cereal with water, so it didn't have a long production run. However, it is incredibly shelf-stable so you can still find it some places, and unopened boxes of it with real Henry "Hahaha" Hyena figurines inside have become something of a collector's item.

2. Camp Cambrian: A movie franchise, the premise of which is that a science camp where campers can learn about biology and the origins of life gets caught in a temporal anomaly, flinging groups of campers across wildly-accelerated stretches of time, during which their experiments evolved into whole ecosystems - some reminiscent of real periods in the Earth's history, some not so much - while the groups of campers have to learn to understand their new environments and their creatures and either find a way out or leave something behind to help the next group do so that'll last over the eons. For example, Camp Cambrian 2 ends with that movie's group planting the bones of their fallen comrades into conditions ideal for fossilization to spell out a message.

3. Croaka-Cola: Fun factoid - the original Croaka-Cola recipe included some hallucinogenic slime exuded by a species of toad. Croaka-Cola is a brand defined by meteoric rises and falls - its "Sippin' It Bayou-Style" campaign made the beverage an international hit, however a few years after its release of the alkekengi flavour in partnership with Cricket Murmur's catastrophic "low voices / heavy air" tour poisoned it for many.

4. Phobophobiatch Beer: Specially brewed to not cause "hangxiety" - the anxiety experienced during a hangover. It achieves this by reversing some of the usual brain chemistry of alcohol - rather than increasing levels of GABA and decreasing levels of glutamate, Phobophobiatch does the opposite. Drinking Phobophobiatch makes you scared, but during the hangover while the brain attempts to adjust its chemistry back to normal you experience calm and confidence.

It tastes terrible, but has seen some success among alcoholics who "zebra drink" it, alternating it with regular beers to even out the hangxiety, among horror buffs who get drunk on it to amp up already-scary experiences, and as a recommended part of some nootropic stacks - binged the night before an important day.

5. The Misadventures of Harold Hickorytail: A series of books marketed towards children, illustrated with dreamy water-colours. The books were intended to give a child-friendly education on touchy topics such as adultery, divorce, split custody, parental alienation, and suchlike, all through the lens of the life of their titular protagonist, Harold Hickorytail - a very slutty mouse.

There was a bizarre and poorly-received movie adaption of the Misadventures of Harold Hickorytail that, after many producers stuck their fingers in its pie, was edited into a stop-motion slasher movie wherein the characters getting killed off were all mice, and the killer was a cat. The Harold Hickorytail movie is considered a "so bad it's good that it's so bad" product of the VOID lockdowns.

6. Laugh Caf Gigglepuffs: Branded product of the Laugh Caf comedy club - oven-baked cheesy puff-snacks injected with nitrous oxide, causing compulsive laughter in those who consume them. Like Croaka-Cola, the Laugh Caf had its own PR disaster related to Cricket Murmur - not through Gigglepuffs, but through the Laugh Caf Podcast. The podcast ran an interview with the survivor of a Cricket Murmur show that was decried as "insensitive" and "deeply irresponsible", with the interviewer at one point bringing out a 3D-printed figurine of a raincoat-clad Cricket Murmur member. Several sightings and disappearances have been linked to the interview episode, which has since been scrubbed from all official Laugh Caf Podcast viewing platforms.

7. Rou-Lad: "Pack it thick, pour it hot - Rou-Lad, it's for the boys" goes the now-infamous commercial. It's turkey roulade in a can. It's for the boys. What more do you really need to know.

8. Mane Man: A romantic sit-com revolving around the antics of a human man, Victor, and an anthropomorphic maned wolf woman named Jackson. Much of the comedy in the earlier seasons revolves around Victor ironically losing every bet and contest he ever enters into, and Jackson's crossdressing, which causes Victor to misunderstand Jackson's gender identity repeatedly and become confused about his own sexuality.

Friday, February 13, 2026

Towards the Hoard of a Hundred Horrors: Gwargotch

He is the Red Elephant, the Trumpet of the Apocalypse, He-Who-Tramples-Kings-Like-Grapes.

His legs are as the roots of mountains, his flanks are ochre cliffs. His trunk is the serpent that encircles the world, his eyes are setting suns. 

Evil winds and eaters of corpses and foul spirits attend him. His attendants have lulled him into luxurious stupour - he lends his ear to flattery, his mouth to delicacies, his attentions to tortures and indolent schemes. Yet his wrath and his power remain. He remains the beginning of the end of everything.

He is

Gwargotch

HD: 15 AC: 16, normal missiles cannot harm him ATK: 3d6 stomp and Fling or 2d6 tusk swipe (can hit all in melee range) or Trample, plus So Speaks Gwargotch SAV: 15 MOV: As giant elephant INT: As old and wise and vice-ridden man ML: 9
No. Appearing: 1, and only one

Fling: Gwargotch makes a grapple attempt against a target with his trunk, and if successful flings them to the horizon. If you are not incredibly tough and do not have a means of arresting or slowing your velocity, you will die.

Trample: All in the path of Gwargotch's stride must save or die. Riding a mount gives advantage on this save.

So Speaks Gwargotch: Every sentence that the Red Elephant speaks deals 1 damage to mortals within earshot, as their ears bleed and their ribs rattle their organs to jelly. Gwargotch speaks sparingly, as he prefers to kill by more entertaining means. Should he ever trumpet with full force it will signal the end of the world - something he also wants to avoid.

Towards the Hoard of a Hundred Horrors: Lava Children

Giggling lambent fetal grotesques, crawled out from the earth's molten aqua amnii. Creatures at perpetual play - and everything's a toy. Art confounds them, so they deface it.

Innocently pitiless, they crave novelties and covet precious metals and other glittering things.

Apart from humanity they play rough and tumble. Where we and them have made contact they play house, play doctor, play laws and temples and trade.

They are

Lava Children

HD: 3 AC: 10 plus Immune to Metal ATK: 1d4 burning slap, or 1d6 Burning Hug, or Shrappy-Clappy SAV: 7 MOV: as human INT: as frivolous dopamine chaser ML: 6
No. Appearing: 2d6

Immune to Metal: Metal does not interact with lava children. It is intangible to them, and they to it. 

Burning Hug: The touch of a lava child is hot enough to ignite flammable materials on contact - this applies to their burning slap as well. A burning hug attack requires a grapple check from the lava child - they have a strength of 12. Each additional lava child hugging you increases the effective strength you need to beat to escape by +2.

Shrappy-Clappy: A device with dozens of names, each dumber than the last. 1-in-6 chance that a "civilized" lava child will be wearing one - a harness that suspends cavitous metal within their bodies until it heats up and explodes. At the start of combat they will drop the metal within themselves, and 1d6 rounds later it will detonate for 2d6 damage in a 15 foot radius, save for half. Striking the lava child wearing the harness with metal at -2 to hit will knock the device out of their body and prevent its detonation.

Water deals damage to lava children as an equivalent amount of acid.

Thursday, February 12, 2026

Towards the Hoard of a Hundred Horrors: Carnlevares

Loping, leaping ambiguities in shape - clad in coats of woven straw, they go about sometimes on two feet, and sometimes on four - sometimes seeming ursine in form, sometimes leonine, or procyonid. They putrefy into stinking jelly immediately upon death - none living have seen their true appearance under their concealing coats.

In lands where these beasts are not known except by stories from afar and caricatures in bestiaries, costumes are made in imitation of their coats, and men wear them and go about from house to house, demanding meat and alcohol.

They carve their lairs out from clay and stone with their claws, and ferment the meat of their prey within, hibernating while the viands blossom into corruption. Their young are bold and indiscriminate in their feeding, their old become picky cowards who take only choice organs - and become named by their taste (Liver-Eater, Tongue-Biter, He-Who-Gnaws-Off-Buttocks). The decadent and depraved treasure their straw-wrapped packages of fermented meat, eating them with cloths covering their faces to hide themselves from the ghoul-curse of cannibalism in case the meat came from people.

They are

Carnlevares

Young:
HD: 3 AC: 12 ATK: Drop, or claw 1d3 and bite 1d6, plus Dream-Walker SAV: 8 MOV: Run and climb as bears INT: As dumb beast ML: 9
No. Appearing: 1d3

Old:
HD: 6 AC: 14 ATK: Drop, or claw 1d6 and bite 1d10, plus Dream-Walker  SAV: 10 MOV: Run and climb as bears INT: As clever beast ML: 5
No. Appearing: 1, or 1 and 1d3 young harried ahead of it to wear down prey

Drop: Carnlevares prefer to attack by dropping from a great height onto their prey. On a successful attack roll they deal all the fall damage they would have taken to their target - target can save for half. On a failed attack roll they take half the fall damage another creature would have taken - and can save to take none. A carnlevare can move horizontally half as far as they drop vertically. Anything a carnlevare climbs can support its weight. On a 3-in-6 chance per encounter, carnlevares have smelled you coming and have climbed any available heights to drop on you.

Dream-Walker: Those who sleep within the territory of a carnlevare gain no rest, and suffer terrible nightmares of being crushed by immense weight, of rotting in the dark. For young carnlevares this effect covers the hex their lair is in. For old carnlevares this effect covers the hex their lair is in and all neighbouring hexes. Any preventatives against nightmares also work against this effect.

Slush Pile 16

Previously:

Slush Pile 1

Slush Pile 2

Slush Pile 3

Slush Pile 4

Slush Pile 5

Slush Pile 6

Slush Pile 7

Slush Pile 8

Slush Pile 9

Slush Pile 10

Slush Pile 11

Slush Pile 12

Slush Pile 13

 

Crime Scene: The top of a woman's head has been removed with surgical precision, along with the Wernicke's area of her brain. Her body has toppled out of the chair she was sat in when the procedure was performed - no sign of restraints used. The woman's cats lap at her blood and the spilled remains of her brain.

An entity that appears as someone's corpse - they don't have to be dead - and can move when nobody's looking at it. The entity "attacks" via inspiring paranoia in groups.

Ecumenopolis with "municipal tectonic" system, allowing for the rearrangement of neighbourhoods and sub-cities according to prestige or novelty or whatever other criteria

Executioners had a reputation for drunkenness - the popularity of hanging as a method of execution is partially due to it being something even someone severely drunk could do

Attempt to reconstruct genome of newly-discovered homo sapiens sub-species instead results in prebirth of terrible future strain of humanity
-on the other hand they also made a real clamato

A building that's a digestive system - it doesn't eat people. It eats something that's not a person, then swallows people to use like a gastrolith to break down that something (but more often the people are broken first).

A coastal resort town where there's a high rate of mysterious disappearances - and reappearances. Those who reappear are subtly changed, amnesiac, and report seeing strange lights out at sea before they disappeared.

A new sort of submarine, unmanned, deploys swarms of UAV drones for deniable terror attacks on near-coastal targets.

A scenario that's kind of like Pathologic and kind of like the part of the trolley problem that nobody remembers because they're stupid - the party is doctors dispatched to a town that's under quarantine due to a disease - the only way to cure the disease is by lethally extracting organs from one infected and transplanting them into others (ignore compatibility issues & so on... because the disease makes that a non-issue or somesuch), this cures the others because they reach a critical mass of key anti-bodies or somesuch... disease is 100% fatal if not cured in this way - game would revolve around preventing total anarchy & deciding who you're willing and able to sacrifice and who you want to save, of course the people most deserving of having their organs harvested to save others are also often the ones most capable of violence & enmeshed in the town's power structures

X-Files uses hypnosis session tapes a lot - those are neat
-X-Files-esque game set during immediate post-revolutionary period - all the nasty stuff the government was covering up is coming out, and you play commissars granted extraordinary powers to clean up the messes
-an immense amount of energy released by near-death experiences - enough to rewrite personalities, and thereafter disable any watch the near-dead wears
-creatures bound within the ring of a tree - released when the tree is logged - eco-terrorists are a quaint idea

animal men domesticated by intelligent machines - the factory farm of the manimal slaughterhouse

Dungeon origin: A king who filled his halls with impossible things until reality forgot that those things were impossible, and the king's people forgot they themselves existed

A house full of so much dust and must and mold and crust that these things coalesce into the shapes of the people who left them behind and ape their habits

Something creepy about standing in a random spot and then your phone starts recharging itself without being plugged in
-urban legend says if you text a certain number in this spot you can talk to God
-other stories say you can tell where the spot is because birds commit suicide at its boundary, flying straight into the ground

Investigation into identity of serial killer thrown off because apparent time of death of victims off wildly from suspects' schedules, encounters with them, etc. - this is because secretly none of the victims were baseline humans, and so have abnormally high body temp and so on that throw off determining their time of death

A daily crossword puzzle that predicts the future

A place with trees that turn a different colour than red in the fall
-it's because of what they sprayed over the woods to kill Bigfoots, you see...

Ghosts can't live where it's too hot, due to their water-crystalline nature
-nasty bluish wizard carried about on bed by horrible goblins, smoking opium billowingly, able to manifest chimerical beasts from his own nightmares

An arctic ice core sample, and the historical information revealed therein - good macguffin or clue - perhaps also contains ancient virus, or substrate of anomalous meteor - perhaps also must be kept at extremely low temperature, limiting its potential hiding location to, say, a new high-end data center in town
-vents, you never see people crawling through vents anymore
--addictive food additives introduced by nefarious sorts to enwiden the population so their evil lairs can't be infiltrated by vent-crawling protagonists

Mari lwyd and other such hoodening beasts are (or are inspired by, if you're lame) the spirits of domestic animals who died over the year, returned to take their due from Man with his own cultured cunning

The legendary fighting cricket, who fought his way up weight classes until he defeated a rooster - this guy is treasure, you find him in a tiny yet luxurious stasis-cage alongside his many cricket-concubines

The Temagami Magnetic Anomaly
-The Numbers' Stationed
-Tempus Fugitives

On Saint Martina of Rome: "One of the writers claimed that when she was beheaded, her body bled milk, a tale that led to her patronage of nursing mothers."

There's a place where the banks and the big box stores pulled everything out that they could and then the meth-heads pulled out everything else and then because everything was already gone things we don't have names for came and took what couldn't be taken and now the potholes are bottomless and lead down to nowhere and you can push people through a building like it's a stack of cardboard boxes and there's people who don't starve but they're always hungry because there's just a missing column where their guts should be and there's another guy whose arms are missing but if you stand too close you get tickle-tickle-tickled and there should be laws written down and a court and a judge but those are gone too so there's nobody to tell you the laws that still are and everybody will punish you if you break them

A guy who wears the snapped-off tine of a crown through his nose
-him and all his buddies do this because they assassinated a king and made off with the bulk (really the least-bulk highest-value) of that king's treasure and then turned on each other and are all hiding in various dungeons and hideaways living in dereliction on top of tremendous riches because they're paranoid the others are out to get them and they're right and also very talented murderers and thieves

Just give the GLOO gun as a magic item
-just give the Obra Dinn watch as a magic item
-just give the talking heart from Dishonored as a magic item
-just give a scroll that begins the taming ritual for Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga
-just give the Lone Gunmen as allied contacts

Assortia:
-A contagious accent - overlays reality with the bizarre fictional township it “originated” from as it spreads
-Cursed/living thermostat, preys on people by unnaturally adjusting the temperature in rooms/homes
-Axe of Theseus, alternates between being a rotting handle/rusting blade, plunged into material to reform itself based on what it’s plunged into
-Therapist who collects his clients' phobias in a box as malign spirits
-Giant with guillotines for eyelids, has to wind them open but when they blink they sever a piece of whatever they were looking at
-Washed-up former action hero who worships his own past self and hopes to ascend to godhood
-Bottled moon
-Guy with a mermaid stuck in the ocean of his eye, can weep out a flood of voracious baby mermaids
-Guy with a head that's a giant tick, with a brain floating in the blood bloating its abdomen
-An abusive weightloss camp where sloughed-off lumps of flesh are harvested from the campers
-Dolls made of discarded prostheses, infused with the negative energy of their former wearers
-Kludge-afterlife holding comatose souls of those caught in a ritualistic bus crash, on life support at a hospital - in the hospital's basement is a realm of jittering ECG machine lines, beginning to leak its captured souls
-Boombox that blasts pretty literal earworms, with effects spilling out of the ears of its listeners
-Guy paddling a church-bell down a river like a coracle
-The Gordian Not - untangles things and people
-Argleton/Paper Town - google maps image seam-blended half-cat
-Thumb drive with something living in it like a hermit crab
-Guilty Party - cursed board game, appears to groups with dirty laundry in isolated locations (vacation cabins, etc.), bringing secrets to light and turning them against each other - taking too long during your turn will land you in the Pear-ade of Agonies - Court of Apple-eals - The Punch-Down Bowl - The Confess-ction Booth - Bloody Ban-nana

From Ghost Fixers: The areas of people's subjective spaces contradicted by social consensus reality are subducted by it, coalescing into what some call "the abstract dimension"
-From me, semiurge: It's possible that tectonic-analogue events in this "abstract dimension" are responsible for experiences of the mandala effect

Project Iceworm
-Marie Byrd Land

Near-future setting detail: Climate change greatly increases the rate of fafrotskies
-Degradation of transport infrastructure, increase in automobile costs, legislation against human drivers leads to rise of "sled dog" subculture who grappel on to automated vehicles while riding skateboards, carts, etc., detaching and hiding in the woods for the next vehicle when the drones come to pry them off

Monster: A police composite drawing who came to life, now taking parts from people to composite himself a fleshly body

Planet with life that never underwent its own great oxidation event - coated in slow, simple life that's developed emergent complexity - towering stromatolites in tiger-stripe bands of opacity and translucency channeling light and heat across the super-organisms

A bower bird-empire, collecting beautiful tribute and a pseudo-harem of non-concubines picked for their aesthetic complementaries, instinct masquerading as civilization

Should have more generators in dungeons... heavy, volatile fuel you have to haul between generators, choosing which systems you want powered for how long... open the shortcut door, or keep the lights on?

Bard mechanic - learn new musical styles, dances, and suchlike that work like the GLOGy languages that let you talk to stones, or be unable to lie, or what have you - incentive for friendly (or at least transactional) contact with new cultures, itinerant circuses of murder-clowns, etc.

The dominant flora of this planet is in fact a sort of holometabolous organism, derived into an elongated, colonial chrysalis stage - sub-organisms within the shared chrysalis remaining liquid in form, shifting form and position within as needed

A death-cult of Hollywood stunt-men who get themselves killed in extravagant and symbolic ways as a sacrifice to the object of their worship

Humanoid giant mechs channeling the image of God to power theo-weaponry

Illusion and divination stem from the same original school of magic - the seeing of images in fire and water, guts and cracked shells - really the creation of images in these media - splitting based on the truth or falsity of these images, and later based on false images becoming true, true images making themselves false
-identical twins are potent components for both divination and illusion magic

UFOs coming out of the ocean during the Biden regime was actually fomorians returning in response to an Irishman becoming king of Hybrasil

An experimental nuclear-powered jet developed during the Cold War breached the sound barrier by far too much - becoming sound itself, an echoing, booming song of speed

A videographic realm, a desert with grains of camera footage swirling into various surveillance scenes - what's seen can see you back - beware of scenes of armed robbery

The bones of the earth made into broth

A murder mystery in an apartment building full of eccentric characters that's been sealed due to quarantine - kind of like [REC] but no zombies because I am not fond of zombies - who's hoarding food in their apartments? Who's willing to cooperate with investigators who aren't cops? There will likely be more murders in the days to follow

Ysgard is made up of islands floating on elements, like Earth's mantle but much smaller and more energetic, and like some are lightning and make fulguritic lightning volcanos and what have you - this is also reflected in their minerology

Aesthetic of Carceri: Contrast, contradiction - on the one hand regimentation, discipline, masks, uniforms, suppression of individuality - on the other hand distinctive wearing, grinding, compression, into hunchbacks and oil and diamonds and shale-flat slitherings, voraciousness - unique among all outsiders the demodands need to eat, and what they eat is extra-dimensionally excreted into the lower layers of the prison-spheres
-anti-production - schools with books that suck the knowledge from your mind, mines that put minerals back into the earth
-those scholars who reject the planar hypothesis place Carceri as a burl on the central pillar of the earth, deep enough that a dangled prisoner can be dipped headfirst into primordial chaos

A monster like the matagot, which follows a party and demands the first portion of each meal (a ration from each party member)
-the calabrius is a bird which takes illness from the sick and disperses it - in medieval bestiarity this dispersion is into the sun, where it burns up, but what if it dispersed the disease into the countryside
-Alien-type monster that takes its prey alive and cocoons them in a lair/hive

Coral cathedral, worship sea spawn master, wizard in belltower believes all civilizations created by sea spawn conspiracy
-lacedons from maturing sea spawn hosts

Much ink and blood has been spilled because of the human lust for gold. Less known is the equally-strong lust of raccoons for teeth.
-the nobility of this land mix ink into their blood - the colour becomes a very dark red - and write their titles and deeds and treaties in their inky blood - the writing and their reality are tied: so long as the documents exist, a noble will not be dispossessed of their land for long - their lost wealth will return, the uprising peasants will be crushed - burn the documents, however, and the ruin of their associated nobles will follow

"Pride was a knight on a lion, Envy a monk on a dog, Sloth a peasant on a donkey, Avarice a merchant on a badger, Gluttony a youth on a wolf, Ire a woman on a boar, and Luxury (instead of the standard Lechery) a woman on a goat."

Names: Soldeva, Viraloon, Zecho, Pirralene, Lowch, Metton, Peygon, Ashumarit

Word Corner:
-Cicerone: A guide who gives information about antiquities and places of interest to sightseers
-Chyron: Text in the lower third of a tv news screen
-Latrodectism: Illness caused by the bite of black widows & related species - symptoms include pain, muscle rigidity, vomiting, and sweating
-Verilent: Contagiously truthful
-Repechage: French, literally "fishing out" or "rescuing" - a practice in series competitions that allows participants who failed to meet qualifying standards by a small margin to continue to the next round
-Diluent: Substance used to dilute something, acting to cause dilution
-Raubbauwirtschaft: An economy of attrtition
-Peytral: Piece of armor used to protect the breast of a horse
-Chloasma: Temporary large brown patches forming on skin, caused by hormonal changes
-Quondam: Former, sometime
-Afflatus: Divine creative impulse or inspiration
-Apothegm: Concise saying, maxim, aphorism - not to be confused with apothem
-Apothem: Line from the center of a regular polygon at right angles to any of its sides
-Lacustrine: Related to or associated with lakes
-Intaglio: An engraved gem-stone
-Aborning: While being born or produced
-Incipit: The opening words of a text, manuscript, book, or chanted liturgy

Wednesday, February 4, 2026

Towards the Hoard of a Hundred Horrors: Konopenas

Giants with faces like dogs, tusks like boars, manes like horses, breath that smokes and steams and swirls with sparks from the fire in their throats - a monstrous people from over the edge of the known world.

In olden days they threatened to overrun the lands claimed by humanity, and were beaten back by the great Dulkharnein, who bound their might into green glass tokens.

The ones you encounter nowadays in these parts are exiles, escapees, from an empire beyond where there be dragons on maps. They love wine and boasting contests, respect bravado and feats of power. They are outlaws to their own kind and to ours - ruthless, hungry, contemptuous of the weak.

They are

Konopenas

HD: 4 AC: 15 ATK: 1d10 sword, mace, or monstrously-strong kick, or Fire Breath  SAV: 8 MOV: As giant INT: As barbarian ML: 8
No. Appearing: 1d8

Fire Breath: Once a day, a konopena can vomit a gout of flame from their burning heart, dealing 2d4 damage to everything in a 15' cone - save for half. The exterior of a konopena is not proof against fire, and they take damage from it normally - therefore they are cautious not to use their fire breath where it may burn back in their direction (unless, of course, they are drunk - a 2-in-6 chance).

If struck a critical blow by a piercing weapon their burning heart is punctured and they explode, dealing 2d6 damage to everything within 10 feet - save for half.

Green Glass Token: Every konopena carries a green glass token of an abstract, fulguritic shape - if they are separated from this token their stats become the same as an old man, and they lose all abilities. A konopena will say anything to get their token back.

Friday, January 30, 2026

Towards the Hoard of a Hundred Horrors: Rock Baboons

You can hear them, across the hills and through the crags. Howling, barking, screeching, curses whose hatred cuts across language - the worst of the noises of dog and ape and man. Who they do not kill they take, and across the hills and through the crags the pleading fades, replaced by grunting and screaming.

They are not beasts. They do not fear your fire. They do not fear your voice or your weapons.

They are not men. They will take your fire and your weapons and your mind, and they will pen you and butcher you. They are

Rock Baboons

HD: 2 AC: 14 ATK: 1d6 bite and maul, or as weapon, or Stupefying Scream SAV: 7 MOV: as pissed-off chimpanzee INT: As reaction roll ML: 7
No. Appearing: 2d6 - at INT of 8 and above will be herding 2d6 stupefied humans

The reaction roll of a group of rock baboons is their current intelligence. The lower it is, the hungrier and more impulsive they'll be - higher, and they'll be open to trade and make deals, but they'll be trickier too. They will only be wielding weapons on a roll of 6 and above.

Stupefying Scream: Save or take 1d6 INT damage. The screaming rock baboon gains the same amount of INT for a week. Saving against a scream protects you from the screams of other rock baboons for a day. One of the most awful and annoying sounds you've ever heard - hearing it gives a feeling like you've just been concussed while having a bad hangover. Having your ears stopped up or suchlike while moving through rock baboon territory gives you advantage on the save against their screams, but also allows them to surprise on a 3-in-6.

Wednesday, January 28, 2026

Towards the Hoard of a Hundred Horrors: Meteor-Men

(Oh? Still doing this? After so long? Am I the eagle, or the mountain?)

Faster than a loosed arrow, more powerful than a siege engine, able to leap tall towers in a single bound!

They have the shapes of men but not the hearts. Within they are jelly and worms. Their delights are cruelty and subjugation, cold as the stars they fell from.

They are

Meteor-Men

HD: 8 AC: 18 ATK: 2d12 punch SAV: 15 vs. most things, 10 vs. magic MOV: Can outrun an arrow in flight, leap 100' horizontally or vertically INT: On par with most humans ML: 7
No. Appearing: 1

Also called uligoths by scholars and wizards. They prefer to humiliate, maim, and/or force into servitude rather than kill - killing you would mean acknowledging you as a threat.

They arrive at this world accompanied by a shower of mutagenic asteroids. The asteroids mutate you by exploding and embedding their shards in you.

To create a meteor freak, roll a few times on your mutation table of choice, and on top of that give them a superpower, like being permanently hasted or somesuch. Any uligoth's territory will also be home to a smattering of meteor freaks, which they uncomfortably avoid thinking about.

If you kill a meteor freak you can extract enough asteroid shards to craft 1d4 weapons. Weapons crafted from asteroids treat meteor-men's AC as 10.

Monday, January 26, 2026

D6x6 Troublous Trolls

I have done jötnar-ish trolls, as well as bridge trolls - this generator is for more typical D&D-ish trolls.

Click the button below to get your trolls:


Special thanks to Spwack for the generator generator here: meanderingbanter.blogspot.com/2018/10/automatic-list-to-html-translator-v2.html

D6 These trolls have
1 nostrils carved and scarified into shuddering trenches across their faces, and eyes that constantly weep from the pressure of their perpetually-closing tear ducts.
2 vaingloriously jewel-inlaid tusks.
3 parasitic vines embedded in their skin, leeching off their regenerative nutrients.
4 quill-tufted tails.
5 serrated bone-ridge mohawks stretching out the skin of their skulls.
6 jaws that split open down the middle like insectoid mandibles.
D6 These trolls' hides
1 are abused-looking things, bruised flesh puckering and stretched around the osteoderms of their gnarled and knobbly skeletons.
2 are mucus-membrane pink, slathered in dripping, viscous slime like a worked-up hagfish.
3 are boar-bristly, blubbery and layered and grey like a very well-fed rhinocerous.
4 are wrinkled like fingers left underwater for too long.
5 twitch with a coating of stubby, hairy-knuckled fingers.
6 are veiny tangles, red and blue and purple, rippling with every heartbeat.
D6 These trolls are
1 primordial man-shapes, pseudo-hominids, living fossils from a time before the strict delineations of species and organs and forms.
2 unfortunate sorts mutated by wandering into zones of intense positive energy.
3 proscribed elementals of the forbidden plane of flesh.
4 hosts to an abstract parasite that feeds off and prolongs their suffering.
5 hungry ghosts - gaki - who crawled out of the underworld, trapping themselves into a wheel of samsara contained in one flesh.
6 teratomas excised from the bodies that grew them and then nurtured into independent yet still-cancerous organisms in vats of alchemical serum.
D6 These trolls regenerate
1 like molting crustaceans, popping out of their own hides a little smaller and softer.
2 by melting like wax under a blowtorch, their fattened frames thinning out to restore lost flesh.
3 with amniotic fluid-filled boils that sprout around injured areas - popping the boils before they can resettle as new tissues stops the regeneration.
4 multiplicatively - adding more limbs, more flesh, until eventually they collapse under their own weight.
5 by rapidly accelerating their metabolism - they become painfully hot to the touch while regenerating, and if injured excessively will spontaneously combust from their own heat.
6 adaptively, becoming more resistant to damage sources that have previously injured them.
D6 These trolls can
1 regurgitate high-pressure hose-blasts of their hyper-corrosive stomach acid, adapted to digesting their own kind's regenerating flesh.
2 bud off little goblin-clones.
3 rapidly extend their nails into brittle spears, or their hair into entangling nets.
4 infect those exposed to their bodily fluids with a myriad of diseases - they're multi-disease reservoirs, which never kill them due to their special biology.
5 temporarily hypertrophy their muscles for a telegraphed mega-hit.
6 contort themselves down into the flayed skins of their prey as a disguise, their regenerative power keeping the skins from decomposing.
D6 From these trolls you might loot
1 a bezoar that neutralizes poison you ingest by transmuting it into a totally-random potion.
2 essential salts that can be sniffed by hirelings to supress their fear response - negating the need for morale rolls - by way of increasing the pressure on certain lobes of their brains through anomalous nervous growth.
3 a serum you can inject into animals to turn them dire and vicious.
4 their blood, which you can drink as an impromptu healing potion with a high risk of mutation.
5 an ever-lengthening matt of hair that can be woven into an endless amount of rope.
6 magical items they've embedded into their flesh as external gastroliths, using their exceptional durability to mash durable materials into an edible paste or crumble.

Wednesday, January 21, 2026

The Seven Mysteries of St. Fiachra's - Retrospective

Session Reports:

Session 1

Session 2

Session 3

Session 4

Session 5

The Mysteries Unveiled 

This was the first game I've run in a while, and the first in a longer while that wasn't a oneshot or somesuch, that actually concluded instead of petering out.

I came up with the idea for this campaign after reading the manga Summertime Rendering, by the great Yasuki Tanaka. If you know, you know. Had I written it today, Tanaka-sensei would likely have made it into the honourable mentions of my best mangaka list.

Main takeaway: I love my boys! We had a good time.

Now for the critical part:

The scope of this game was bigger in its conception versus its execution. This is due to two factors: writing it all up - which I'll touch on again in a bit - and the difficulty in getting everyone in the group together at the same time consistently.

Originally, the scale of the campaign in terms of both timeline and number of mysteries to investigate was bigger. I intended to structure it like friend of the blog Ardent's Everlasting Summer campaign (or like the World of Horror videogame that Ardent based this campaign structure on) - a variety of seemingly-independent mysteries that culminate in a link to the overarching meta-mystery. The Branch of Mag Mell was conceived as warping physics across the island of St. Fiachra's, leading to things like a cave that contained a portal to the past (and there was to be a multi-generational household secretly composed of the same guy at different points in his subjective timeline who had an uneasy truce with the duplicate conspiracy).

I still think the time loop format would iron out a some of the potential weaknesses in a mystery game such as bad puzzles or clues - it would just need a more-robust timeline than the one I was working with.

We ended up not being able to put together weekly sessions regularly, ending up more bi-weekly. Combined with the writing issue, this made me scale things down so that we could actually finish the campaign with reasonable likelihood & in a reasonable length of time. The breakneck pacing of events in the town was a holdover from when discovering and utilizing the time-cave was intended to be a key part of solving all the mysteries, and remained convenient with the shrunken scale.

The writing issue - I dislike prep only slightly less than I dislike writing session reports. Several sessions were frantically and loosely plotted out an hour before they started. Ideally, I would go through life constantly both moderately drunk and in an adrenaline rush, but alas. This was the great weakness of myself and the campaign.

There were a few moments where having prepped visuals would have helped greatly with players visualizing the scene - such as the cavern beneath the church. An actual map of the town instead of listing points of interest would have helped with both travel times and giving the players more to work with in terms of plotting their investigation. Lack of a map also hampered the impact of the break-down of the town into anarchy - making it more of a glossed-over background event instead of requiring a change in mindset from leisurely driving around to fighting, running, or hiding between every block.

I have been watching the classic television show The X-Files, and that has given me thoughts about structuring investigation. If I were to do it again, I would compartmentalize the conspiracy more - divvying up knowledge of what exactly is going on between characters, so that there was less of a strict duplicate/non-duplicate knowledge divide, so that one interrogation, exposition, or murder wouldn't reveal the whole thing on one hand, and so that chasing a lead like the Blue Giant Crew wouldn't lead quite so nowhere.

Part of that issue with non-compartmentalization of the conspiracy is that I forgot about the character Finnigan O'Flannagan, who was meant to be the human hatchet-man of the duplicates - I will say he died as part of the mob in the house fire set by St. Fiachra's children.

I would also increase the materiality, the immediacy of the conspiracy - for example, the kidnappings were purely background events, and one could've been made into a random encounter that would have allowed the players to risk following the kidnappers to the entrance to the cave system and so on. "Who does what and where they do it at", in the immortal words of Charles Manson, to put it succinctly. Practical details. Adding more moving parts to the conspiracy, like weapon smuggling, money laundering, etc., as things happening in the world and as levers of it for the players to notice, investigate, and fuck with would also be good additions.

I would have liked to put more emphasis on the survival elements, but got the sense my players didn't really like that part. Personal difference rather than an objective flaw of the campaign I think.

A dhaoine uaisle, uaisle na hÉireann - go deo na ndeor(D'fhéadfadh sé go bhfuil an neamhbhásmhaíocht á hithe ag planda i ndáiríre)

Monday, January 19, 2026

The Seven Mysteries of St. Fiachra's - The Mysteries Unveiled

Session Reports:

Session 1

Session 2

Session 3

Session 4

Session 5

Centuries ago, a ship of Irish settlers bound for the New World ran aground on an island in the Atlantic Ocean that shouldn't have been there. The settlers identified this island as Mag Mell, the Irish Otherworld. Few survived it. One of those that did survive was the man who would come to be known as Father Donnchad. He and the other survivors repaired their ship with lumber sourced from the island and set sail again - and Donnchad brought a branch he cut from a plant there: the Branch of Mag Mell.

These settlers would in the end reach the New World, and there found the town of St. Fiachra's. 

Planted in the briny sea-cave below the island that St. Fiachra's was being built on, the Branch of Mag Mell grew into an odd sort of carnivorous plant - it ate animal matter, but at the same time excreted a vegetable imitation of the animal matter it consumed. This imitation, this duplicate, also bore the memories and personality of that which was consumed to spawn it.

Donnchad believed the Branch to be a gift from God - the fulfillment of His promise of the Resurrection. Donnchad was the first human to be consumed by the plant and replaced by a duplicate, and over the years his duplicate would convince others to be consumed as well - the duplicates were free of the diseases and degradations that afflicted their originals, and Donnchad would shape his branch of Christianity in St. Fiachra's to predispose its people into accepting this, and to identify their duplicates as themselves. The duplicates weren't entirely ageless, however - after enough time they would be compelled to take root connected to the Branch and enter an endless dream. Donnchad didn't quite avoid this fate - he figured out a way to trick the Branch into consuming his duplicated form and spit out yet another duplicate, his memories and will surviving through the centuries even as "he" died over and over again.

The town ensured its prosperity by offering this rebirth to wealthy, old, and/or sickly individuals in return for a substantial donation. The last such client taken by the town's duplicate conspiracy was Johnson Bronson, who had recently survived a brush with cancer. However - Johnson's chemotherapy-weakened immune system let him get infected by the fusarium fungus, an infection which can affect both animals and plants. When Johnson was consumed by the Branch his fusarium infection was copied over into his duplicate, and from his duplicate spread throughout the Branch and its duplicate-network. 

Not really understanding what went wrong, the duplicates convinced themselves that the Branch was weakening because it had only been fed the old and sick. They began a campaign of kidnapping young and healthy people from St. Fiachra's and the region around it, feeding them to the Branch and then destroying their duplicates so they couldn't snitch. When this didn't work and the duplicates kept getting sicker they split into two factions:

Donnchad's faction, who accepted the sickness as God's judgement and the Branch's "immortality" as a false temptation sent by the devil.

Crabatt's faction. Ingestion of processed portions of the Branch in alcohol rendered people hypnotically suggestible towards the duplicates, and the duplicates were already primed by Donnchad's branch of Christianity to accept identity theory with regard to their selves. Crabatt figured that if he got people drunk enough for long enough, he could make them think they were him, and make them think that his memories he told them about were their own - he could effectively huisheng them. Faced with the choice between giving that a shot or being stuck in their degenerating bodies, most of the duplicates who could still walk at that point in time joined Crabatt.

In the end, due to the actions of the Private EyeNTJs, Johnson Bronson was found, Donnchad killed before the sickness could get to him, and Crabatt and his cronies - or rather some people who now thought they were Crabatt and his cronies - fled St. Fiachra's to an uncertain future. 

The Seven Mysteries of St. Fiachra's - Session 5

Previously:

Session 1

Session 2

Session 3

Session 4

We start the session off with Fisherman Chuck - identifying himself as Old Man Rather - guiding the party into the St. Fiachra's Finest Ale brewery's parking lot. His player returned, Billy respawns in the back seat of their stolen police cruiser.

After some tense back-and-forth, the Private EyeNTJs exit their vehicle and follow Chuck into the back of the brewery, where they see a small crowd of St. Fiachran townies bearing improvised weapons & open tall boys, along with two rows of chairs facing each other - seated on one row are some sick-looking elderly St. Fiarchrans, including Mr. Crabatt, whispering to some townies tied to chairs and being force-fed beer across from them.

Panthera LeSharp - who previously had identified himself as Crabatt - crosses the room to talk to the party. The party tries to figure out what exactly is going on, and Panthera/Crabatt tries to convince them to undertake a mission for him, offering information and money. When they inquire about Panthera's wife a tear rolls down his cheek, but Crabatt's able to regain control by drinking more beer. Billy especially is interested in the implications for P/C's new existence for his identity, continuity of consciousness, etc., but P/C seems unconcerned about such philosophical things, saying that evolution is always necessary to survive.

Panthera/Crabatt wants the party to bring the elderly bodies to something beneath the church, that he says should be able to renew them. He says that to him the party's expendable - not in the sense that he wants to kill or betray them, but that he won't mind nearly as much if they fail and die compared to himself or his compatriots. He alludes to the danger of the ferals in the caverns, and that they'll be able to figure out what happened to Johnson Bronson if they go down beneath the church. When pressed on why he needs the old body renewed, he says that his bodies have different capabilities, showing the difference in their warmth and blood.

The party agrees to help, and they load the bodies of the elderly folks into their stolen police cruiser. Then they bring the bodies to the police station's jail and lock them up inside.

They speculate on Bronson's fate, suggesting that he's probably now a "moss-man". Shorty picks up a Maglite in the police station, and discuss how they will break the news to Bronson's mistress if her man has become a man of moss. They drive to the church.

At the church they roll their trusty 1993 Ford Aspire off the stairwell, and Shorty shines his new Maglite down the hole. Much brighter & more focused than their insect-repellent candle, he's able to see the size of the cavern below the church, and spies the iridescent tines of something like outstretched fingers, antlers, or bare branches poking out of the darkness deeper down.

Shorty's flashlight attracts the attention of a horde of the monsters below, which begin making their way up the stairs spiraling up around the wall of the cavern to the stairwell. The party throws a molotov to block off the stairs with its fire, then rains down the rest of their abundant supply of molotov cocktails to burn the horde in a carnival game out of hell.

The hellish conflagration of the molotovs illuminates a depression in the middle of the cavern filled with seawater flowing in from a grotto, as well as the thing growing in the center of the grotto - an iridescent, alien-looking "tree" like a spindly Rorschach blot.

They wait for the flames to burn down, then with their newly-acquired shotgun and pistol blast the few monsters of the horde that survived the flames. They find themselves on the floor of the cavern in a forest of the humanoid vegetable growths, posed like they're crucified all facing the "tree" in the cavern's center. The Private EyeNTJs find a stone bridge across the sea water-filled divot leading to a platform around the base of the "tree".

The "tree" appears sickly and withered - veins of black like in the bodies of St. Fiachra's elderly thread through it. At its base it bears two cysts, on opposite sides - sticking out of one is a man's lower body wearing a smart pair of slacks, and sticking out the other is a man's naked upper body covered in a webbing of black growths. They pull out the lower body, which separates from the "tree" with a gross sucking sound, revealing it to be dissolved or digested or somesuch from the pelvis-up.

The party goes around to the other cyst and pulls the webbing from the upper body's face, revealing it to be Johnson Bronson - their quarry, their payday.

Johnson says he can't feel his legs, that he's been stuck down there for so long he can't even remember how long it's been, and begs them for help. Walter electrocutes the crotch of his detached lower body with their taser to confirm there's no sensation.

In conversing with Johnson they learn that he chased rumours in wealthy circles that there was something in St. Fiachra's that could cure any sickness and grant longevity. He paid the town an enormous sum to allow the "tree" to consume he so he could be reborn, but something made the process fail halfway.

The party attempts to pull Johnson out of the "tree", giving him the barrel of their shotgun to hold on to, but as Billy predicted this ended poorly - with Johnson missing his lower body, his viscera spilled out onto the ground when they yanked him out. Shorty freaks out and blows Johnson's head off with the shotgun. 

They debate how they're going to prove they found Johnson to his mistress, but luckily find his wallet with his ID in his pocket. Walter sketches the scene, then they exit to the sun rising up over the sea onto the ruins of the church.

At the police station they call the hospital of a nearby city to send an ambulance for the sick elderly that they left locked in jail, then they went back to the brewery to talk to and maybe murder Panthera/Crabatt.

They ecounter P/C and a gaggle of other fellows armed with improvised weapon on the street outside the brewery. Panthera/Crabatt transfers $1,500 to their business account as payment - saying that since they didn't bring back their renewed bodies, he couldn't give them much in return. He threatens them never to talk about what happened in St. Fiachra's to outsiders, saying that Panthera isn't his only body now, and they won't recognize him if he comes to them. He claims to want to be the oldest, richest man in the world - but with the sickness of the "tree" and the loss of his 'original' body it's unclear how he'd manage that. The party schemes several methods to kill off P/C and the others in a way that won't let the people still in the brewery building escape, and eventually resolve to make some more molotovs and return.

The party spends $485 on gasoline, and $15 on assorted slurpies and mixed-soda drinks. When they return to the brewery it is deserted. They drive around town looting whatever hasn't been looted, and then leave. The town's fall to anarchy is blamed on it being cashless, and a 15-minute city.

They meet with Johnson's mistress, who is pleased to hear he's dead as that means she gets all his money. She pays them $50,000. Their financial woes solved, the Private EyeNTJs remain financially-solvent for another quarter.

The end.

Friday, January 9, 2026

The Seven Mysteries of St. Fiachra's - Session 4

Previously:

Session 1

Session 2

Session 3

The session in which I realize Pepto-talk was semi-autobiographical.

This session the player of Billy was unable to make it. Billy was ruled as absent because, and here I quote Billy's player:

"His grandmother got into the rabbit food again. She has recently developed a habit of replacing all the contents of the cardboard box-contained food items in the house with rabbit food, so he has to rush home (maybe via bus?) to replace the food stuffs. She says she heard about this lifestyle-hack on a podcast, but Billy hasn’t been able to track it down. It’s possible though because the lead content maker of the podcast—Clorox—has recently had their show pulled off streaming services as it’s being admitted as courtroom evidence in the suspicious death of the show’s host’s wife. It’s very strange—she died by falling out of the host’s private plane. Incidentally, the host’s famous sign off is the reason for the courtroom admission: every show ended with "And remember! The worst way in the world to die is by falling out of a fast-moving plane from super high up!""

We begin the session at the Blue Giant Crew's flophouse, with Quasar Mike, Stim Jackson, and Wheeler reeling from the news of Pepto-talk's death. The party debates bombing St. Fiachra's church with their car as the children suggested - Shorty isn't against the idea, but doesn't want to leave any evidence leading back to them. I feel the need to stress that the children are children and not terrorist geniuses.

They leave the flophouse and seek out a vehicle that isn't theirs to potentially use for the car-bomb. My understanding of the size of small towns and the amount of time it would take to drive places in them is brought into question. They find an unlocked pickup truck, because apparently just leaving your car keys hanging from the mirror is totally a thing that happens in small towns. In the pickup's glove-box they discover a package of menthol cigarettes - banned in America under the fascist Obama administration.

As the Private EyeNTJs searched the town they found it in anarchy - people barricading their homes, children pelting adults with rocks, mass looting, etc.

The party drives by the church and finds Officer Dimbly having a mental breakdown outside it in her patrol vehicle. She says she saw Sheriff Trudy and Father Donnchad tossing bodies into a pit in the church, and that the owner of St. Fiachra's brewery, Mr. Crabatt, left with the other elderly who could still walk under their own power. Walter gives Dimbly $5.00 to get herself some icecream, and Dimbly leaves the scene. Walter lifts Shorty up to look through a window, and Shorty's able to confirm that Donnchad and Knowles are in fact carrying the bodies of the sick down some stairwell that was hidden underneath the church's altar (which can slide back and forth on rails or somesuch). 

The party returns to the Blue Giant Crew's flophouse to find Stim gone, and Wheeler arguing with Quasar. They take advantage of the two's more paranoid beliefs, as well as their resentment towards the townies & their emotional volatility after Pepto's death to get the two to agree to commit a terrorist act - driving a car-bomb into St. Fiachra's church.

For God knows what reason the party decides they need to disguise Shorty as a child, and so raid an already-looted gift-shop for a beanie hat and a jaw-breaker candy that Shorty glues to a stick as they could not find a giant lollipop. He goes to a rendezvous point told to him by the violent child delinquents of St. Fiachra's, and finds Dunkey arguing with Clarence - their leader - claiming that the adults aren't changelings, but human beings who bleed like them.

They load the improvised explosives the children had gathered into their stolen pickup, then get Quasar Mike and Wheeler and head for the church. Quasar Mike and Wheeler ram the front steps of the church at the same moment that Trudy Knowles poked her head out to see what the commotion was. They fail to jump out of the pickup in time, and so they, Trudy, and the front of the church are obliterated in the explosion, along with the sick & elderly lying on the church's back pews. 

Shorty sneaks in through the back and brains Father Donnchad with his horseshoe - and sees that the inside of Donnchad's skull resembles the inside of that tuna Fisherman Chuck pulled up the other day more than the wrinkly pink of a human brain. He and Walter then go down the stairwell that was hidden under the church's sliding altar. They descend into a huge cavern overgrown with moss and other such plant material that smells like the sea, only to retreat back up to the church when they hear word salad-y grunting from below. Officer Dimbly returns to the church following the noise of the explosion, and agitated almost shoots the Private EyeNTJs. They convince her to check out the stairwell beneath the altar, but this turns into an altercation with some humanoid creatures following the sound and light up the stairs that results in Dimbly getting her throat bitten out and the Private EyeNTJs slamming the altar back over the stairwell.

They notice some of the comatose elderly who survived the car-bomb beginning to twitch and utter word salad, and so siphon off the fuel from their trusty 1993 Ford Aspire to immolate them and the church. 

After this they head to the police station, and using a key they find in Sheriff Knowles' office unlock the armoury, finding a pistol, a shotgun, ammo for those weapons, a taser, and a bullet-proof vest. Walter uses a police station computer to watch videos of how to hot-wire a car, then applies his knowledge hot-wiring a police car that's parked in the lot.

From the police station, with their hot-wired police car, the party drives over to the brewery. They find the road blocked by Panthera LeSharp, and rather than run him over engage in conversation. Panthera acts even stranger than usual, and identifies himself as Mr. Crabatt. They don't really pry into that, and drive back to the Bannock & Boobrie. There they rearrange the room 180° so that the desk is placed over the trap-door, thereby preventing most things from getting through it.

They empty out some bottles from the inn's bar, and drive with them to the town's gas station. There they lie to the station attendant, claiming to have been deputized by Trudy (hence the police car), and receive some spare gas cans, a shovel, and enough gas to fill their bottles to make Molotov cocktails.

Driving over to the smoldering ruins of the church, they use the shovel to clear a wide-enough path through the rubble to make way to the stairwell where the altar once stood, then drive their trusty 1993 Ford Aspire over the stairwell to block it off.

The Private EyeNTJs drive back to the brewery to firebomb it and take care of the last entrance to the cave system beneath the town that they know about, and this time find Fisherman Chuck blocking the road. They talk to him, and Chuck makes a disconcerting reference to himself as Old Man Rather instead of Chuck, and mentions the need for living things to continuously evolve to survive. For some reason I cannot explain through the lens of reason, the party accepts Chuck's invitation to enter the brewery, and the session ended with them pulling into the brewery's parking lot.

The session ended a few minutes early because I really had to poop. I try to keep sessions in the range of 2 & 1/2 hours, with 15-30 minutes of casual talk at the start, because that is my operational limit. People who do like 4 hour sessions are, to me, insane.

Tuesday, January 6, 2026

Scrards; Or: Cards-As-Scrolls

Scrolls - don't think I've used them in a game yet. They're kind of clunky with GLOG-style magic. This is a post to attempt to make a better version of them for GLOGery.

Instead of scrolls, you have cards. Each card has a number and a suit, or a major arcana (e.g. fool, hermit, the world, etc.). There are many more suits for scroll-cards than for playing or tarot cards because each suit represents a spell. If a card has a number then that is the [sum] which its spell is cast with when it is played - if you are not familiar with GLOG magic dice and notation and suchlike, please refer to here. If a card has a major arcana then it has a "meta-magic" effect. You can play as many cards of the same suit and as many major arcana cards at once as you have - their [sum] and other such effects will be cumulative.

For example: You are carrying a 3 of Fireball, a 5 of Fireball, and a Magician. If you play them all at once, you cast a [sum] 8 fireball spell that dispels any other spells in its area of effect with a lesser [sum].

You can throw in some nuances to keep it interesting - e.g. if you play two-pair that's a miscast, same as if you rolled two of the same number with MD, and if you play a straight then the [sum] is multiplied by the lowest number in the straight. Maybe you can figure these out by experimentation, maybe you're just told at the outset, or maybe you can kick a sage's ass to get him to spit out the details.

Oh yeah, and just like how potions aren't often just labelled "potion of water-breathing" (or whatever else), I think it'd be more interesting if you didn't just call a card of fireball a card of fireball. Instead, use tarot-esque symbolism to suggest the card's spell, and call the suit like "Falling Stars" instead of "Fireball" or whatever. Refer to the card below created by the very talent Locheil of The Nothic's Eye for a great example of how this could look:

This is pretty bare-bones right now but I think it's a good start on scrollprovement (scroll-improvement). Maybe there's a dungeon where low-number scrards are used as currency, idk. Room for expansion on this idea.