Bad Wolf, story stater...

So, what follows is the first little segment I wrote of the novel I'm working on for publication later this year. I wrote this about two years ago, and am just now getting back to it. Lol.

Enjoy:

Azariels's head throbbed as he sat up. He felt the warmth of his flesh through the palm of his hand, and knew the light would sting his eyes when he opened them. Still it had to be done.

Pain flared, momentarily, and a small tavern room opened up to him when the lights cleared a little. There had been drink last night, and plenty of it, and now he was sitting on a rough mattress with a wool blanket pooled around his waist. He didn't have to look to know the innkeeper's daughter was laying to his left. She was a young thing, Azariel also knew, between fifteen and seventeen summers, and there would be blood staining the mattress. The elf smiled at this last bit, and wondered just how many virginal notches that made on his belt.

Still, there was a time to make a quiet exit, and that time was vanishing as fast as Sol rising in the sky. He was out of bed, his pants and tunic on when the heavy fists fell on the door.

“Felicia!” The innkeeper called in the gruff and grizzled voice of an old soldier.

Felicia, a dainty redhead, shot up into a sitting position, her wide eyes staring at the door.

“Damn it,” Azariel said.

“Felicia, open this door!” There was no pounding this time but Azariel heard the click as a crossbow was drawn and its bolt set. He checked the catch on his belt, making sure it was secure, and slid both his knives back into their sheathes at his hips. He grabbed his rusted greatsword, a weapon as blunt as the side of a tree and broken down to the length of a longsword, he slid it into the frogs on his back, leaving it open to the world, and started for the window.

“You're leaving?” Felicia said, panic in her voice. The night was coming down around her, no doubt.

“I'm a big fan of not getting shot with a crossbow,” Azariel said. He lifted the window and looked out. They were two stories up, and the nearest building, a little general store, was more than thirty feet away. Straight down was the answer, painful maybe, but necessary.

“We can explain it to him,” Felicia said, her voice pleading, dancing towards hysteria. “We can tell him we're in love!”

Azariel looked back at her for a moment. She was beautiful with skin the color of alabaster, and great big green eyes. Her hair was like the sun setting on the horizon, and had been the thing that attracted him to her in the first place. He considered it, considered staying with her, and decided against it within a period of two seconds.

The door exploded inwards, the knob ripping off and splinters flew in every direction. The innkeeper stepped in, a man six feet tall and built like a dwarf with a beard to match. He leveled the crossbow and fired within heartbeat of the door opening. The bolt whistled through the air. It hit the wood of the window sill hard enough to throw another series of splinters into the air. Azariel stared at it for a moment and the two inches that separated it from his hand.

“No, daddy!” Felicia said. She flung the covers aside and charged her father. “I love him! Please no!”

“I'll kill ya!” the bartender bellowed and yanked the string back on the crossbow faster than anyone Azariel had ever seen.

“Yeah,” he said, and set his foot on the window sill. He ducked his head and kicked. The elf flew, his back and legs straight as an arrow, and his arms out like the feathered fletching. He turned in the air, rolling head over heels, and landed in a crouch. His ankle yelled at the contact, but Azariel was up in short order. Another crossbow bolt struck the ground, kicking up dust.

“I'll kill ya! Ya damned elf!” The bartender said. Azariel glanced back, saw the innkeeper was already loading another bolt. Still the elf couldn't resist himself.

Azariel spun on his heel, sweeping both arms out, and the left back in as he bent at the waist. He flipped his shoulder length blonde hair over the top of his head and made a show of flipping it back. He straightened and locked eyes with the innkeeper. The man had his crossbow leveled and sighted. Still Azariel smiled, a devils grin. He could see Felicia over her father's shoulder. She was tugging on his arm, trying to get him to stop.

“I wish you luck in your endeavor, kind sir,” Azariel said, the devils grin never leaving his face. “My name is Azariel Athendash. Though, I'm unable to face off with you today, I hope you seek me out. I could use a good challenge.”

With that Azariel ducked and spun. He heard the bolt impact where he had just been standing. The barkeep would be loading another bolt by now, but Azariel's legs were swift, and carried him out of the crossbow's range, and around the corner of the general store. He slowed to a walk as he moved towards another cluster of buildings closer to the town wall. He'd stored his gear under one of the two watch towers, and it was time to retrieve it. It was time to move on from this little hovel, time to move on to bigger and better conquests. Maybe a city.

And, there's a bit more too it, but I think I'll post the rest of it elsewhere then here. On Watt Pad or Medium, maybe DeviantArt. Or maybe all three. Anywho, when I do post it, I'll make sure you all have links. And, I hope you all can't wait for the book!!!

Ryan

6-19-14

Good NEWS!!!

Today was supposed to be a blog post about Han Solo, but I think I'm going to hold off on that post till tomorrow.

Why?

Because I have good news that I can and can't tell you about.

What's the good news I can tell you about?

Well, I'm starting work on a new book. It's a fantasy story that encapsulates one of my number one favorite Dungeons and Dragons game moments. I would tell you what that moment is, but it would ruin the story. Let's just say that it involves a halfing and a dragon. Yes... it get's you all excited doesn't it?

Anyway, what's the good news I can't tell you?

That would be the publication date of this story. I have a date in mind, and my calenders and goals are all marked towards this, but I'm not going to get to far ahead of myself.

All I will say now is that I am going to self publish this book, and I hope to have it on the market by the time fall rolls around. We'll see how that goes with me working on it and what not. And, I'll let you know more the closer I get to my goal.

Also, if there's an artist in the audience who would be willing to work for next to nothing I need to get some cover art for the book. That might have to wait though.

Anyway, peace out.

Ryan

6-18-14

Luke Skywalker

This man was my number one hero growing up. He was everything I wanted to be, and everything I felt I couldn't be.

He was the HERO of the series. It was his DESTINY to help the rebel alliance overthrow the evil Galactic Empire. It was his DESTINY to fight against the father who abandoned him as a babe. And, right there we cut a little too deep. Lol.

I have the greatest dad in the world. I really do. But, I don't know the man who donated his genetics for my existence. I know his name, but I've never seen him. I've never even seen a picture of him. I tell myself that's fine and dandy, that I don't need to know him or anything about him to know how well my life is going to turn out, but there's always that little voice in the back of my head. The one that whispers how unwanted I am.

I am wanted though. I am needed. By my mom, by the man I call dad, by my wife, and by every other member of my family. I am needed and I am happy.

I don't need to know a sperm donor to be happy.

So, back to Luke Skywalker...

I got nothing. Lol.

He's the first to become a Jedi after the bulk of the Jedi Order was obliterated by the Sith lord, Darth Sidious, at the end of the Clone Wars. He's trained by both Obi-wan Kenobi and Yoda, two of the primary figures in the Jedi Order, and they were the only ones to survive the culling of the Jedi.

Luke successfully uses the force to destroy the Death Star... and good God Almighty! After basically worshiping him through my early teens (I read my first Star Wars novel in the 6^th grade, and I'd seen the movies before that), you would think I'd have more to say about him.

He's a hero archetype, and one of the ones everyone wants to see. Luke Skywalker has nothing at the beginning of the story. Even the characters around him don't have any reason to find something special in him. This is part of the underdog, the unexpected hero. He's a regular Joe, so far as the casual movie goer cares to know. Then he's taken out of his natural environment and thrown into extraordinary circumstances.

That experience works to harden him, inside and out, as he goes through different trials. Luke is not the same Luke he was at the beginning of the story. He's not the same Luke that sneaked the droids past Stormtroopers. He's not the same Luke who rescued Princess Leia. He's not the same Luke as when Darth Vader murdered Obi-wan Kenobi. Each experience compounds on the last, driving him forward, until the moment when he destroys the first Death Star. That moment is when he stops being a child, when he stops relying on toys, and takes comfort in the power of the force.

Luke “becomes” a man when he chooses to use the force over the targeting computer. He grew because he stepped out of his comfort zone and realized, yes, I am small, but I destroyed the Death Star. I can take on the Empire. I can make a difference. That was the real climactic point in the movie. Not when the Death Star was destroyed, but when he relied on the force. The climactic point of both the inner struggle and the physical/exterior struggle should come at the same time for the greatest effect on the audience.

And, I don't remember what I was talking about now. I should really find some way to organize these things so they make more sense.

I dunno.

Ryan

6-17/18-14

Spock

Spock is THE original alien. Lol. Spock made it cool to be an alien. Yeah, I don't know. It just seemed to be the right thing to say at the time.

Is there ever really a right time to say anything, though?

I don't know, and I don't know why I brought it up here. Yeah, my head's kind of shorting out again. That happens pretty often I suppose though.

Herm.

I guess I could start listing off facts about Spock. But, that might not be all that entertaining, so instead I'll run through crafting Spock as a Dungeons and Dragons/Pathfinder character.

And, after thinking about it, that is a bad idea.

Why?

Because I don't want to start an argument in the comments. Lol.

I was going to say he was an elf (half elf technically, since Spock is only half Vulcan) Psion following the telepath's power tree. With the abilities we've seen in the show and movies I'd put him around fifth or sixth level with most of his skill ranks dumped into knowledge (arcana most likely) and his stats would be unusually high in the strength, constitution, and intelligence areas, while lacking in charisma and wisdom. (The alternate of Bones who would be high in wisdom and charisma.)

As for gear, that'd get down right irritating trying to mimic Star Trek tech. Well, maybe not too irritating. Give him a rod of lightning in which the energy damage can be controlled, giving the rod both a stun and kill setting. That covers the phaser. A stone of communication allowing verbal communication with anyone using a similar stone linked with the same arcane “frequency” (basically meaning the stones had to be made by the same mage).

The tricorder is where I get stumped. That and the universal translator. The universal translator could be translated as a helm of speak language/tongues, giving its wearer the ability to speak any language, period. The tricorder might translate as a stone of perception, giving the user a bonus to their natural perception skill, and maybe granting them ranks in knowledge relating to what the stone picks up? I don't know.

An orb of perception, maybe?

I dunno.

If I get bored at some point I might really work up stats for both the vulcan race and Spock as a character. If I do that, though, I'll also have to work up the stats for an airship version of the Enterprise. And, I could see this going a very long way.

Oy vey.

I don't know.

I'm just going to call it a night.

Ryan

6-6-14

First Novels: Raising Kain

I've said this with other posts, but yes, this is the third time I've sat down to work on this post. I have a valid reason though. I didn't like the way the first one started, and I started the second about five minutes before the end of my break. Had I realized that at the time, I wouldn't have started it then.

Either way, we have this post going now, so I'll just keep on writing.

The reason I didn't like what I had first written is because I was trying to pass off wise and sage advice. Then I looked at it, and knew I shouldn't be giving such advice. It's not that I don't have experience in the situation I'm bringing up. I just don't feel that I've matured enough from that experience to really be able to see it from all angles.

So, all I can really do is tell you about my experience with “first novels”.

I started writing Raising Kain after I read the how-to book Writing the Novel: From Plot to Print. (It's a very good how-to book, and is something I would suggest any writer, new to the craft or not, pick up.) Also, the name of the author is Lawrence Block. What helped me get started on my novel wasn't really what inspired the novel. It was more of a connection I felt with the writer. The way he was talking about his writing experiences the more I felt like I could see myself in that role, experiencing the things he experienced. Then he talked about his early writing habits.

Lawrence Block wrote soft core sex novels for the first few years of his career. He would write two of these a month. He'd do twenty pages a day Monday through Friday, not write anything on the weekends, then finish the book the next work week.

I don't know what possessed me, but I thought “Yeah! I can do this!” (I would also like to note that my first novel was not a soft core sex book.) So, I sat down, on a Monday I think, with a small idea about a boy who becomes the greatest hero in Atlantis, and I knocked out twenty pages. Tuesday (day two or whatever, I don't remember the days of the week) I knocked out another twenty pages. (If you're wondering, twenty pages equals some 6,000 words, not a number to be laughed at.) Both days I walked away from the computer exhausted and broken. It took almost every hour I was awake to write that much.

After that, I didn't touch the book for a week.

I was burnt out on it. I didn't think about it. I didn't want to think about it. All I wanted to do was shut it out of my mind. It wouldn't go away, thankfully.

That next Monday (using that day because Monday is a good day to start things, I guess) and I wrote more on the story. I didn't write twenty pages. I think I wrote five, and instead of walking away from the book like I'd gone eight rounds with Mike Tyson, I walked away feeling good. I felt accomplished, and that's the way it went for the rest of the book. I wrote a little each day, and inch my inch the novel got done.

I loved that novel.

I still love that novel.

And, I found out not too long after I finished writing it that it wasn't even really a novel. It tapped out at forty-eight thousand words, and your average novel starts at sixty-thousand words or so. Yeah, I was kind of crushed.

I still consider it my first novel though. And, I still fondly remember writing it. The only thing that makes me really sad is that I need to keep it hidden in a chest for fear that someone might read it. Lol. Not because I don't think it's good, I absolutely love the story, it's because of the way my writing style has evolved. Raising Kain very much looks like it was written by a child coming out of the sixth grade.

Now, I've ran my mouth on for far longer than I expected too. So, I'm going to shut up, and maybe continue to tell the tales of my first novels.

Ryan

5-8-14

Trolls

You got a purty mouth. Heh. Heh. Heh.

Big ugly green monsters without too much going on inside their noggin, and most of them have the ability to regenerate. That’s probably all you really need to know about trolls. But, cutting the post off there would be kind of lame. So, I’ll see what else I can weasel out of these critters.

Trolls, in Dungeons and Dragons and Pathfinder, are just shy of being a giant in height (nix that, they are giants) topping off between seven and eight feet tall and weighing anywhere between three and eight hundred pounds. If they have hair it’s greasy and limp and their noses often look like it’s been broken one too many times. They favor swamps, bogs, and moors as their homes. Trolls, like I mentioned above, have the ability to regenerate hit points over time and re-grow limbs and such. It’s not a fun thing to come up against, especially if you’re lacking a torch, or a campfire, or a weapon with a flame enchantment on it.

Another interesting thing to note is the lack of gender among trolls (at least from my point of view and my house rules) as they reproduce asexually. To make more trolls you cut a piece of an existing one off and a new troll, minus a few points of intelligence from the base troll, will grow in 3d6 days. This makes it really nasty for adventurers who hack and slash their way through a whole troop of trolls and don’t take the precaution of burning the bits and pieces after the fight. What that group gets is an army of pissed off trolls tracking them down later in the week.

And, one fun thing that comes along with this is making a smart troll.

According to 3.5 stats for a troll the average intelligence is a 6. This means the troll gets a -2 modifier to anything that requires the use of intelligence. And, if you’re making a troll PC you take a -4 racial adjustment to whatever you rolled for intelligence. The statistic block even goes so far as to state that 3 is the lowest a trolls intelligence can drop.

So, how do you make a smart troll?

First, you bring a little malevolent pixie named Damien Trollbringer (he’s been mentioned on the blog before) into the picture.

Second, you pick up as many wondrous items as you can that give bonuses to intelligence.

Third, you let Damien go at applying all of these magic items, ointments, potions, and what have you, and then use a Wish spell to bind all of the items to the troll as if they were a natural part of his body.

Not Revenire the Troll King, but I can't draw so he's close enough.

The result is Revenire the Troll King. Revenire (the last time I looked at the character sheet) has an intelligence of 35 giving him a +12 to any intelligence related skill. He used this intellect to escape Damien and went about creating an army of super trolls. He used his own fingers to spawn the first ten of his army, those are his generals, each with an intelligence of 30, the subsequent generations, after the fourth, is back to having average troll intelligence.

I would do the math on that, but it seems like it would be a lot. At a random guess, I’d say you’d have around 100,000 trolls, assuming that each general cut off all ten fingers, and then the next generation did the same, and so on and so forth.

Yeah, that’s an epic level adventure waiting to happen J

Anywho, I’m off.

Later kids.

Ryan

4-10-14

Relationships in Dungeons and Dragons Part 2

If you missed it, here’s a link to Part 1.

I should have finished writing this yesterday instead of waiting. I don’t mean writing it all and posting it on one post, I just mean write out both parts of the post. I mainly wish that because I don’t know what to do right now, or how I should continue on with the topic. In fact, it’s very tempting to pick another topic and just skip over the rest of this one.

I don’t know why.

I’m tired is probably a poor excuse since I’ve taken like three naps today. and, me sitting here and thinking of reasons as to why I don’t want to write on this topic is just stalling.

I’m going to write it.

So, get on with it.

Yesterday we talked about how a relationship might work between a PC and an NPC. Today, I wanted to talk about PC to PC interactions.

This is a lot more complex than the former, as the number of added variables is almost infinite. While the interaction with an NPC is mechanical, the interaction between PCs is very fluid it’s literally one person interacting with another. (God, I use the word interacting a lot in that paragraph.)

Now, don’t get me wrong, the same rules that govern a NPC’s actions apply to PC interactions. So, let’s go back to our rogue.

The rogue has blamed the royal vizier for the theft of the crown jewels and got the man sentenced to death while the rogue sells the jewels on the black market. But, the rogue’s friend and fellow adventurer, a paladin in service to Sol, questions the rogue about the jewels.

Not the image I wanted, but my drawing skills are kind of lame. Lol. So, yeah, totally not my art work.

The rules at this point would once again pit the rogue’s bluff skill against the paladin’s sense motive skill, plus any truth spells the paladin might have in effect. A d20 roll would be used to settle the matter, and if it was an NPC thing the d20 roll would be it.

However, we’re talking about people here, sitting around a table. The paladin and the rogue are sitting at the table, and the paladin’s player knows that the rogue stole the jewels and is now selling them. So, we run into an impasse.

What should happen is the players follow along with what the rolls gave them: if the paladin rolled higher a higher score than the rogue spills, if the rogue rolled higher the paladin will know about as much as the king did. And, in my experience this is what happens, thankfully.

The other thing that could happen is an argument that spills out of the game and into reality, with players using their out of game knowledge to choose how their characters act and react. This is called metagaming and this is often a negative thing that DMs hate.

It really ruins the fun of the game for everybody.

And, my brain is stopping there.

Ryan

4-8-2014

PS: There might be more to the topic, I just can’t think right now. So, yeah… don’t know where I’m going.

Relationships in Dungeons and Dragons Part 1

This is an interesting and vague topic for a blog post. And, I’m sure if I really wanted too, I could let this topic spill out across the blog until it was novel length. That’s how in depth one could get with this topic. It would work as both a psychological and sociological study and would be a beautiful topic when it comes to the development of fictional characters and worlds and how all of that works in tandem with the Dungeon Master’s world. And, I think I lost where I was going with this topic already.

I don't know these people, but yeah, that's pretty much what our gaming space looks like.

These people in the doctor’s office are giving me a headache. They’re talking to one another right over top of my head, and they’re across the room from one another. This is making me stabby… very very stabby.

I probably shouldn’t be talking about that in a public forum, but the absolute discourtesy these people are showing for those around them is disgusting.

Things are sort of quiet now. So, we can get back to the topic at hand. Any Dungeons and Dragons setting, even if it’s set in our modern world, is a fictional setting. All of the people that make up its populace are fictional (yes, even if Abraham Lincoln or some other historical figure is featured in it, they are fictional as well). This is because the world exists solely in the Dungeon Master’s mind and once or twice a week that world exists in the minds of his players. The relationships there are based on fictional events and fictional lives and… I don’t know where I’m going with this.

Either way… a relationship between a player character and an NPC is based on the way both act and react as well as the way the dice rolls. Say a rogue is trying to convince a king that he wasn’t responsible for the theft of the crown jewels, and even takes it so far as to blame the theft on somebody close to the king. This is a tense relationship moment (and would be one where it would be heavy on the roll-playing) and the result of the encounter would fall to the dice. The rogue’s bluff skill versus the king’s sense motive: they would roll a d20 and add their skill modifier to the roll and the highest would win. That’s a mechanical way of determining things.

Another way to see how that relationship works would be through pure role-playing. The rogue’s player would have to put on a convincing enough song and dance to get the king (the Dungeon Master) to go along with what the rogue is saying.

And, I'll blame this one on the royal vizier.

We actually had an incident like this in our last game session. A drow sorcerer was trying to convince a troop of drow soldiers that he was a priestess and that they should submit to him and let him and his friends pass. He had the bluff and disguise skill to pull it off, but he was kind of stuttering in the role-play. (The player’s new to D&D so I kind of expected it, though he did better than I did my first time trying to outwit somebody.) He didn’t pick up on the fact that drow women have no respect for males of any race, including their own. They’re a matriarchal society, and the priestesses are belligerent when it comes to ordering males around.

When he picked up on that it was kind of awesome. I enjoyed seeing that look of triumph on his face when the drow guards bowed before him and split the column in two to let him and the party pass.

Kneel before me in terror, infidel!!!

And, there’s more to cover than that, but I’ve reached the limit of what I feel is appropriate to put into a blog post. So, to be continued…

Ryan

4-7-14

Here's part two for your viewing pleasure.

My Cupcake

My topic for today was supposed to be skinwalkers, and while I have that post half written I think I’ll wait and post it tomorrow. I’ve got something else to talk about today. Something that I feel is quite inspirational.

Let me see if I can set the stage for it, so you can feel the same way about it.

I think off and on (a dangerous prospect) about what I’ve accomplished in my life and all the potential I feel has been wasted. When I think about these things I get quite morose, and one of the number one subject I think about is school.

I messed up in college. I really did. I know most of the blame for that falls at the feet of a diseased I will mention no further, but I still feel the fault is mine. I could have fought back and worked towards the potential I thought I had. Well, the potential I know I had. Don’t get me wrong, I accomplished a lot. I graduated, and I have a bachelor’s degree at my house waiting to be framed and put on the wall in my office. But, it wasn’t bachelor’s degree I wanted. It wasn’t any of the degrees I wanted.

And, that’s what I was thinking about last night. I was missing being in school, knowing I could do better, especially now with all the steps forward I’ve taken. I was thinking about the degree programs I could apply myself to now with the same discipline and energy I put towards keeping up with my daily goals. I thought of several.

I want an associate’s degree in forensic psychology and addiction counseling because of my interest in the field of psychology.

I want an associate’s degree in software and web design because my sister inspired me to go for that field. And, I made a promise to a friend that I would design a program that made a DM’s life a just a little easier. He’s gone now, but I’m going to keep that promise.

I want to finish all the bachelor’s programs I started. The history and English focuses in literature and writing. And, I want to get a bachelor’s in psychology for the same reason I want the associates.

There are even two master’s programs I want to go through. I want an MFA in creative writing, focusing in particular on writing novels. And, I want a master’s psychology, again, that’s because of the same reason I want the associate’s and the bachelor’s.

Those wants and desires right there require one thing above even the determination I could put into those programs. They require money, a literal mountain of money.

And, that kind of brings us around to the point I wanted to say about my cupcake. She came into my writing room and stood beside me and asked why I was down. I told her about the school thing and about how much it was cost, and she looked at me and said two words: Then Write.

Then write.

Like the answer was as plain as the nose on her face, so much was said in those two words; so many feelings that I don’t even know how to describe them, but she knew the answer as she always does. I doubted myself, and my ability to make a career out of writing. But, she doesn’t doubt it. And, I don’t think she ever has.

Then write.

Words really can the world, and now that mine’s been changed, I need to get to work.

Thank you Cupcake, for everything you’ve done and everything you will ever do for me. Thank you for being able to see that little flickering flame inside of me, and knowing exactly how to feed it. I will write, and I will make you proud of me, and that one thing is what will make me happiest in this world. I love you.

Ryan

4-3-14

Spring

The topic for today’s discussion is spring. And, while I’m not sure if cupcake meant for the conversation to hover over the season, bed springs, or the leaf springs one might find in the back of a truck. I am, however, certain that this conversation will leave out my favorite type of spring, the slinky. Why am I sure of this? Because I believe if she had wanted me to talk about a slinky she would have said a slinky. So, instead we’ll talk about spring.

And, taking a dart and throwing it at a random topic (OW! Oops, sorry Erik) I’m going to go with the season. Spring is the time of year when the earth quite literally comes back to life. The fall and winter are the slow death of the earth. Think about it, everything is shutting down. The leaves are falling off the trees. The grass stops growing. Many mammals go south for warmer climes, and many others curl up in nice cozy caves and sleep through the winter.

Spring is a period of awakening. Hibernating animals wake up, things begin to grow and migrating animals move back in this direction (like ducks… oh god how I loathe ducks).

Spring also kind of refers to Daylight Savings Time. This is an America only thing (I think. Google would tell you for sure.) and spring refers to springing forward one hour (yay time travel) so that we would have more daylight in the evening hours then we would in the mornings. Mother Nature sort of does this herself as well.

The earth as it rotates around the sun also spins on its axis, and that cockeyed, meaning the earth is angled, and at any one point in the year the earth could be pointed towards or away from the sun. As things are rolling around to spring in the northern hemisphere (our hemisphere) is pointing towards the sun. This means that more of the northern hemisphere is lit up and lit up longer than it is during the winter. This makes summers at the North Pole extremely interesting, seeing as the sun never sets.

In the context of something I understand a little better than science, spring exists in Dungeons and Dragons just as it does on earth. I don’t know why it wouldn’t, unless the DM has you playing on a planet that greatly resembles Hoth. And, even Hoth would have a period of spring like weather. It’s probably more like spring in Antarctica than it is around the center of the earth.

And, yes, there are rules as to how things apply to the world as there are with weather. Take a muddy road for instance. It’s just rained for a day and a half, everything is soaked, and the streets (which are little more than packed dirt) are muddy. People have trouble walking and running in it, thus reducing travel speed, and it sucks down and holds tight to wagon wheels, increasing travel time. And, remember the runner I mentioned, he’s going to have to make balance checks every ten to twenty feet to see if he slides in the muck. If he fails that check he has to make a reflex save to avoid falling, and depending on how the save goes he might have to roll for damage as well.

Then there are allergies. I still haven’t looked to see if there are rules for allergies or not. Meh.

And, yes, all of that does sound extremely tedious, and I’m not the sort of dungeon master who’s going to demand those checks whenever a PC moves ten feet. Nope, the only time that would matter is during a combat encounter, or some other strenuous event where the rolling of the dice is important.

Anywho, that’s all from me for the day.

Beware the Dire Squirrel.

Ryan

3-22-14

Why Didn't We Start In A Tavern?

So, I’m being a little lazy today. This is something I wrote for my current creative writing project Why Didn’t We Start In A Tavern?. It’s not the first scene, but it’s my favorite scene thus far. I always like baddies like this. Lol.

Ryan

3-18-14

The air in the cave was unlike any else there had ever been. It was eons old swirling in and over itself for all eternity.

Infinity.

A pair of snakes, one eating the other locked in a great loop.

This was how the air thought of itself. It thought it would never change, though that everything about the cave, the paths to and from it, and the clefts that gave it shape and form would never change.

Things change.

It’s the way of things.

Some say that the face of death changes with every tick and tock from a clock. The face of death in this cave was pale, white sunken flesh near to translucent and with eyes as solid orbs of cerulean. The face of death had a crack, twisted and broken for a mouth. It was screaming obscenities that even the wind couldn’t hear. Its hair was frozen in thin strands, sticking out in every direction, and the ears were curved and pointed like the cruel tip of a scimitar.

The wind had known this face for eternity. It had always been down here in the depths of the cave: always and forever since the goddess Gaia gave birth to the bastard face of death. Lady Celita, she who is the moon made flesh, ave this face a kiss, a crescent on its brow and made it sleep forever more.

Things change.

It’s the way of things.

A hand that had never known the warmth of life flexed inside the ice. The fingers bent and what had once been solid broke free.

The cave and the wind trembled then, as the face of death and the body attached to it moved. First the hands, curling into fists, then the biceps bulging, muscles contracting, and the arms came free. They moved through the ice, were one with the ice, as if it were water, and the fists slammed out through the thin pane of ice and rock.

The wall split, and rock and ice flew like shrapnel, cutting ribbons through the air that thought nothing would change. The hands and arms worked back and forth, clearing the path as it sent rock after countless rock through the air. The wind cried and moaned in pain, but couldn’t stop what came next.

The face of death came free from the ice, and it filled its lungs for the first time since birth. The face of death inhaled, savoring the little joy of killing all that remained of the air that thought things would never change.

Things change.

It’s the way of things.

The face of death was free from the wall and from the ice. It stretched and flexed and learned how to use parts of itself it never knew it had. The face of death turned to face the void it had been trapped in and there hid his armor. It was frosted full plate mail, made from an alchemical mixture of black ice and black iron. There was a shirt of chainmail made from the same material, each of the links fashioned to look like hail stones. This the face put on first, then each of the great plates of shaped ice and metal. The face had no need for aid, as the suit knew its master and responded to the call. It smiled as it pulled the gloves and gauntlet tight and at long last drew its helm from the ice.

The helm was a masterpiece, ice and metal shaped into a great polar bears head with a crown of ice sickles rising from the peak. The snout came down to cover the face’s cracked mouth and nose, the bear’s teeth cutting into its flesh. The face of death smiled, relishing in the pain. And, it took one last item from the ice.

Things change.

It’s the way of things.

This item was massive with a long rod of adimantium and coiled mithril, spiraling up in a hellish dance till it met the head of the sledge. This was the heart of all ice. It was blacker than coal with a cold that sapped the strength from what air remained. This heart had been mined from the depths of Niefelheim, and fashioned into a weapon fit for the gods.

The face smiled as it caressed the heart of ice with a lover’s touch. The depths captured within the ice gave a start as the ancient magics worked this way and that. The face’s smile grew wider. It turned to the side, swung the great sledge back with all its might, and drove the great hammer back into the void it came from. The world cracked.

Things change.

It’s the way of things.

Water swirled behind the ice in a great tornado as a hole was rent in the die of existence. The face of death pulled back and swung again. And, again. And, again.

Things change.

The army was there, standing ten thousand and more strong behind the void, behind the face of death. Long have they awaited this moment. Long have the ice elves kept their hatred burning in their frozen souls. They had been denied the earth, denied the air, and the light of the sun.

Now, they would deprive all things of life.

Things change.

It’s the way of things.

It’s the way of the ice elves.

Dire Cheshire Cat

The Cheshire cat is a wonderful agent of confusion in The Alice in Wonderland stories, and when I say stories I mean all of the ones that’ve been written, and filmed, animated, and played via video game. All those stories are based on the original story Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. Lewis Carroll is a pen name for the author Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. Why he wrote under a pen name I don’t know. Although his name is a pain to say. Anyway, we seem to be straying from the topic.

I’ve touched on the Cheshire cat, for a few moments at least. Now, I’ll discuss the dire.

Dire: means extremely serious or urgent, and Dungeons and Dragons takes this word and creates Dire Animals. Take a wolf, for example. It’s a pretty big threat as it stands, but take that wolf and make it the size of a horse… Yeah, now you’ve got a dire situation caused by an animal of unusual size.

And, D&D didn’t stop with just a dire wolf; they went and made a whole slew of animals dire, from bears and boars to dire rats and dire bats. They’ve gone and made the whole damn forest full of squirrels that could send men running and screaming out of the woods. And, that’s not that I’ve seen a dire squirrel in any of the rule books, but that doesn’t mean it’s not out there.

Fear the Dire Squirrel.

Anyway, back to the Cheshire cat. The cat according to D&D rules wouldn’t be so much and animal as it would be a magical beast. (Magical Beast is the type of animal that has features that can’t quite be explained by nature, such as an animal that can talk and disappear on command. Just because it’s a magical beast doesn’t mean it can’t be dire. I found a dire template somewhere, I just don’t remember where.

Anyway, to make a dire creature you increase its size. A Cheshire cat is a tiny creature, and I want to make it into a large animal. So, starting at Tiny our Cheshire cat has a strength of 3, moving it up to a small size would increase its strength by 4. So, at a small size Cheshire has a 7 in strength. Then we do it again. Moving Cheshire from small to medium adds another 4 points to str, for a total of 11, but that’s not the end of it. We want our Cheshire cat to be a large creature, and to get from medium to large she gains 8 more points in str, leaving her with a total of 19 points in str. This change also reduces her dexterity.

This makes our Cheshire cat unhappy, and quite ready to rend the flesh off of someone’s face. And, she can do it without ever having to worry about anybody seeing her doing it. Why? Because the Cheshire cat can make good use of the greater invisibility spell, and attack actions don’t cause her to lose her concealment.

And, I’m back to not understanding what my brain is trying to tell me. So, I’m gonna stop this here.

G’nite kids.

Ryan

3-9-14

Pixies-Damien

I really wish I knew how to draw... This looks nothing like Damien.
http://wolverine041269.deviantart.com/

Or to be more accurate I should say Damien, since I’m dedicating this post to my miniature titan of terror.

Damien Trollbringer is the name he gave himself when he decided the run of the mill pixie shit wasn’t for him. Sure, he enjoyed causing chaos, and he enjoyed causing it even more due to his demonic heritage. It was a miracle he even survived his birth. The younger pixies, in spite of the elders’ decision, wanted to destroy him. The elders protected him though, using powerful illusions cast on both the other pixies and on him. Even now, Damien maintains the ability to switch from pleasant looking pixie to his true half demon form.

Now, the chaos he causes is much more of the evil variety. Most of the time he won’t fool with little pranks, believing them to be childish and beneath him, but when he does he’ll set powerful spells, such as a planar gate (opened to a random lower plane) placed directly behind a door. Or he’ll scatter a box of fireball beads along a forest trail, then wait and watch for some poor fool to step on one.

Then there are the rage filled moments where Damien will fly into a village and just start killing. He’ll burn the whole town to the ground in one night. Maybe he’ll take two, and find a way to make the townsfolk kill one another.

Damien does run into problems though. Not goodly aligned player characters or NPCs that want his head. Nope, luck is his problem. That planar gate saw to the end of an evil wizard’s reign. The fireball beads were stepped on by bandits who were attacking a passing caravan. And, the villages he’s burned down and slaughtered everybody in town. Well… One was a cultist cabal and each soul in the town was tarnished by murder and sacrifice to a dark god. The other was a lawless village and haven for the malign.

These are facts that bother him to no end.

Damien has been touched by Locestra, chaotic goddess of luck and chance. This touch twists Damien’s actions. When he tries to cause evil and act as he feels a villain should act, his intentions turn into positive results. This infuriates him to no end and he’s pledged to kill Locestra because of it.

He has had projects that were successful beyond his wildest dreams, as well.

1     Tiny- Tiny is a half-ogre half-giant (uses the half giant race from Expanded Psionics Handbook) that Damien modified. He accelerated Tiny’s growth from infancy to adulthood and poured ever ounce of power possible into making Tine the strongest beast he’d ever seen (uses the paragon addition to his strength and charisma scores) but this caused extremely unsatisfactory results with Tiny’s intellect (Int 3, Wis 8, Cha 4). So, Damien created The Monocle, a semi-artifact that increases Tiny’s intellectual scores by two-thirds the paragon addition (+10 to each). This gives Tiny a true split personality, and the ability to just Hulk out.

           Revenire- Revenire, which means troll in Romanian, is considered the Troll King, and the very reason Damien uses the surname Trollbringer. Revenire is a troll Damien experimented on after Tiny escaped, and instead of focusing on the troll’s strength, he focused on its intellect. A troll knows nothing about combat tactics or military maneuvers, they’re lucky if they can speak. Damien knew a real threat in a troll was a smart troll. So, he reversed what he did with Tiny. He made Revenire brilliant, taught him the intricacies of magic. He taught military tactics to him, and everything he could think of. Damien literally made Revenire the most brilliant mind on the face of the planet. But, Damien didn’t put in a control switch. There was a great battle between the two, Damien versus Revenire, survival versus freedom, and magic was the weapon of choice. The two of them expended their most powerful spells and destroyed the tower Damien had built deep in the swamp. Damien woke up, days after the battle, but when he searched the towers remains he found no evidence of Revenire. He assumed Revenire died in the explosion.

Damien was touched by Locestra, the chaotic goddess of luck and chance, who finds Damien’s actions and the results of them entertaining. So, what’s the likelihood that Damien achieved something truly evil in the creation of Revenire? And, what’s the likelihood of Revenire walking away from that battle? Who knows? Sometimes, a mystery is the best type of chaos.

Ryan

3-8-14

I dunno.

Cupcake has had a hell of a rough week, and I’ve tried to stand by her as best I can. She lost her uncle on Monday, his wake was today, and his funeral is tomorrow, and it’s going to be rough. I know if I was in her shoes I would have broken down. But, she is so damn strong. So damn strong. I’m pretty sure one of my posts on here even goes to pointing out that she’s my hero, my favorite superhero, and the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. So tonight, when she took a little longer than usual to answer my topic question, I asked if she wanted me to come up with one. She said yes. And, now, I have no idea what I’m going to talk about. Lol.

I could talk more about cupcake, but like I said, she’s the strong one in the relationship, and if I even tried to talk about the hurt she’s had to go through this week then I wouldn’t be able to type because of the tears. So, we’ll talk about something else.

A friend of mine, one of my Dungeon Crawlers, posted this chart on my facebook wall today. Now, I normally don’t pay attention to any of that. I might glance and see what it is, then forget it, but this one stuck out to me. Lol. I don’t know why. Anyway, my steampunk name turned out to be Lord Montague Septimus Wraithbottom, and looking at it now, I realized I did it wrong, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Lord Montague Septimus Wraithbottom, I love that name lol. I might take bottom out, but I’m definitely going to be using it somewhere. I’ve been looking for a name to attach to the lich I’ve got hanging around in Netheretia. I even got my Dungeon Crawlers to get their steampunk names (some of them have complied anyway, lol), and I plan on putting those to use as well. I’ll just have to see where things go, and what NPCs need names and how important they’re going to be when it comes to the story.

I dunno.

Another entertaining thing I thought about doing would be making Dungeons and Dragons version of Marvel and DC superheroes. The one that stands out the most for me right now, is Iron Man, probably because I see him as the easiest to translate. He would be the Iron Mage, a battle mage with levels in fighter, wizard, and technomancy wearing awesome ass full plate armor that might as well be a golem. I could take it even further though, and say he’s a clocknomancer. That’s not much different than a technomacer really, just my term for a tinker in my particular campaign setting. It’s a class that still needs to be built, but I believe it’s going to be a prestige class that would require the successful construction of a golem (an iron golem in particular) and the successful summoning of one of the Inevitables.

As you can see from the picture above, the Inevitables are a race of clockwork outsiders. So, to be a clocknomancer it would make sense for you to be study from the master craftsmanship of a race that is totally made up of what you want to construct. Or something like that.

I dunno.

I guess I’m just going to call it quits for the night. There’s going to be a lot to do tomorrow, and none of it’s going to be fun. So, keep me and cupcake in your thoughts and prayers. We really need some good juju sent our way.

Ryan

3-6-14

Tieflings

Tieflings is the topic my lovely and beautiful wife has given me today, and I find this kind of entertaining because a tiefling is the race she picked in my most recent game. Err… it’s the race she’s playing right now. And, she does very well, so far as I’m concerned, with how she goes about playing the character.

Tieflings are considered one of the planetouched races, this means that at some point in their ancestry there was a marriage of a mortal and an outsider (outsider being the type given to creatures and species that don’t originate on the material plane). Marriage simply meaning there was sex (or rape) that fostered the birth of a half child. By half child I mean either a half-celestial child, where an angel or there about is one of the parents, or it is a half-fiend, typically fathered by demons or devils of one sort or another. Tieflings are descended from the latter. They are the end result of centuries of half demons breeding with mortals, and it dips down to such a point as the Tiefling is the very last drop of fel-powered blood in the line of descent. So much so, that I believe (and I think there are rules for it, but I’m not sure) when Tieflings mate what race the offspring is turns into a craps shoot. Meaning, if two Tieflings were to have a child the result would be another Tiefling. If a male of XYZ race was to mate with a female Tiefling you would have a fifty percent chance of having a Tiefling or having a pure born member of XYZ race. If a male Tiefling were to mate with a female member of XYZ race things would be even more skewed. In that situation there would be a seventy-five percent chance of having a tiefling. And, the statistics could continue with generation X’s probability of producing a Tiefling just because they carry those genes. I guess it’s kind of like being a ginger.

To sum all that up in one easy sentence: It’s a lot like playing the lottery.

Now how we ran off on that completely random tangent is not something I’m entirely sure of. I guess something about… nope, not going that direction again. Basically, Tieflings are one of those races that is always different. There’s always something about them that just doesn’t sit right with you. Maybe their eyes are red, or maybe they have horns, or a tail, or the potential for a completely wild and fragmented personality with each shard showing more and more of that particular Tiefling’s ancestry. I would say it is something along those lines.

Anyway, how to incorporate Tieflings into my game is a really dumb question. Lol. Three of my PCs are tieflings, and each of them have wildly different takes on what it means to be a tiefling, and I like it like that.

And, I guess that’s it for me today. Lol.

Now, it’s time to write another blog post, since this one was so behind on getting finished. YAY!

Ryan

3-4-14/3-5-14

Frankenstein

Is a novel by Mary Shelley, and it is one of the first intentional works of both science fiction and horror. Though, I believe it was categorized as a romance back when it was written. This categorization isn’t because the novel is a Harlequin bodice ripper, but because it was a work of fiction. Basically, you had two types (or genres) of novels, those that were based on actual factual events, such as travel logs or biographies, and those that were not (Frankenstein). Though, even Frankenstein has some basis in reality.

During the time the novel was written there was a natural philosopher (physical scientist) by the name of Giovanni Aldini. Aldini experimented with electricity and the human body to try and animate dead flesh by running an electrical current through it. These attempts succeeded to an extent. Running an electrical current through a corpse will cause the muscles to spasm and jerk, but there was no restoration of life (and not a single mention of a zombie). And, while the method of animation was not described in the book, it is implied that electricity was involved in the experiment. This also runs along the same lines as the multiple plays and movies based off the novel where the experiment itself occurs during an electrical storm and Dr. Frankenstein uses a lightning rod to harness the power of a bolt of lightning.

The novel could also have multiple inspirations coming straight from mythology. In a way it mirrors two of these tales. One being the story of Pygmalion and his statue named Galatea who was brought to life by Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and lust. Then there’s the tale of the golem in Jewish folklore, where clay, stone, or mud are shaped into a humanoid form and a piece of paper with the Hebrew word “shem” (one of the names of God) and was inserted in to the mouth or forehead of the golem. This act animated the golem, but did not give life, as God is the only one with the power to give life to the unliving.

As for working Frankenstein into a Dungeons & Dragons game, there is little more to it than opening the Monster Manual, Frankenstein’s monster, the flesh golem, was one of the original monsters included in the game, albeit the Dungeons and Dragons flesh golem lacks the intelligence Frankenstein’s monster developed over the course of the novel. The flesh golem is much more like the monster shown in the many movies and plays that have been based on the novel.

To get an actual representation of the monster (its name is not Frankenstein, just saying) you would need to craft the flesh golem (meaning you’re probably a necromancer, it’s not a requirement, but a likely path considering the nature of the construction materials), then once the monster is animated use a spell called Awaken.

Awaken is a spell that “awakens” an animal, plant, or construct by giving it an intelligence score higher than three. And, in the case of the plant, it generates an intelligence score, a wisdom score, and a charisma score. Animals have intelligence scores, usually below three, which makes them unsuitable as player characters, but with awaken they’re intelligence score is increased above three (the base minimum for intelligence) changing its type from animal to magical beast, animals also come with a wisdom and a charisma score. Constructs lack intelligence, completely, their intelligence score in a statistics block actually reads Int—. Awakening them generates an intelligence score (3d6), and it gives them the living construct subtype.

So, now I’ve got things set up for a particularly nasty villain, or a potential player character. But, that’s not really the way I plan on using it right now. No, the closest I’m getting to putting a flesh golem in the game (for right now) is a short story I’ve been working on. It’s called Respect for the Dead and the protagonist, Phelix Goldleaf, is fighting against one. Even more so than the undead he’s also fighting against, Phelix feels that the flesh golem is the most obscene thing done with the corpses of the dead. Mainly because it inflicts such disrespect on the former bodies turned into construction materials. And, if I talk about it too much more I’ll give away what happens in the story and then nobody would want to read it.

So, on that note, I shall talk to you all later.

Ryan

3-3-14/3-4-14