The Room at the End of the Hall

An ominous door at the end of a hall in a cheap tenament somewhere in the City.  We step over the drunk sleep it off outside.  Behind the door we find:

1. Two sets of men's clothes in puddles of goo.
2. A roiling red-tinged fog that seems to pulsate as if with the beating of a heart.
3. A well-dressed man from nowhere.
4. Walls bear but for peeling paint.  The faint sound of a child sobbing.
5. A group of 1d6 hobogoblins gathered around table watching two men play Russian roulette.
6. A single bed with a large constrictor snake curled upon it with a ominous bulge.
7. Smears of blood on the floor; a naked hanging lightbulb swinging, as if recently disturbed.
8. A nest of bugbear hatchlings and their strange birthing machinery.
9. A hillybilly giantess in a gingham dress sitting on a bed and sobbing into her hands.
10. The grim reaper seated at a table with a chess board.
11. The complete skin of an elderly man draped across a bed as if in repose.
12. Pulp magazines stacked almost ceiling high and forming a veritable maze.

Other ideas?

Reskinned!

The usual D&D races getting a little stale? Just give them a makeover and keep the old mechanics.  Try these knew visuals on for size:

For Elves:

Insect(-ish) men.

For Halflings:

Satyr-like guys.

For Half-Orcs:

Hairy hominids.

For Warforged:

Spaceknights!

Okay, that last one may be a bit of a stretch.

Planet of the Elves

In elven village and dwarven hamlet, elders warn children of the dangers of venturing too far into the wilderness.  Out there in the wastes, the well-worn admonitions say, lie half-buried ruins--the blasted and timeworn remnant of a world that was.

Reckless youths and greedy treasure-seekers have long ignore the warnings of their mothers and fathers. They brave the wilds to seek out these ruins, where tribes of giant Hairy Ones and worse things hunger for elf (and dwarf) flesh, and they delve into subterranean depths where baroquely insane wizards give flesh to monsters out of nightmare.

Many of these foolhardy adventurers don’t return home.  The skillful and lucky ones that do win glory as well as treasure.  They become heroes--for the wise amongst their peoples well know that every  bit of forgotten knowledge or ancient artifice brought up from underground brings their races closer to wresting the world from the grip of Man’s long ago folly.

The Kind of Dame Gargoyles Like

In the City, Creskin, Don Diabolico, and Boris (now calling themselves--somewhat prematurely--Team Victory) had dinner at the posh “Pauper’s Row” mansion of Urania Vandemaur. They discovered the Vandemaur matriarch most certainly does not approve of the cigarette-girl from across the Eldritch River that her son, John, chose to marry. In fact, she’s certain Viviane killed her son--and is willing to pay to have her brought to justice by any means necessary.

Never ones to blanch from suggestions of illegal deeds where money’s involved, our heroes take her up on her offer. They also take note of a tidbit dropped by Urania--insignificant to her, but very significant to our would-be detectives: John Vandemaur had remarked that "even gargoyles loved" Viviane.

A late night meeting with a shady forensic necromancer confirms the skinned body they found was indeed John Vandemaur and that he may have been betrayed by someone he called “darling.” His traumatized soul can’t give them anymore, but that’s enough.

The boys are eager to confront Viviane, but she won’t see them until tomorrow. They try to use the map they took from Bliss’s extradimensional bolt-hole to find more clues, but without a lot of success. Finally, they're able to use the second glass sphere to contact Bliss, and he offers a meeting back at Club Tekeli-Li.

One exorbitant cab ride later, they’re attempting to interrogate Bliss at the club. He wants the spheres back, but our heroes won’t budge. They manage to get Bliss to give up quite a bit: He was Faustus Bleys--and the inhuman being that calls itself Viviane Vandemaur was Bleys’s scribe mentioned in the tome. Viviane double-crossed Bliss for obscure reasons and put him in the coffin. He also claims she killed John Vandemaur. Still, Viviane’s motives remain a mystery. Why did she hire them? Was it just to get them out of the way as Bliss claims? And what’s the true purpose of the spheres? Bliss wants one badly (the one they stole from him), as he says it allows him to open “certain doors.”

Our heroes meeting with Viviane will likely turn into a battle--against an inhuman killer.

This adventure also marked the debut of Creskin’s new henchman (courtesy of Fleischschild’s Institute in Lichmond): cornfed and none too bright, Moose Magoon:

 

Creskin plans to put him in a sequined outfit as a stage assistant, too.

Warlord Wednesday: Reminiscing

Let's re-enter the lost world with another installment of my issue by issue examination of DC Comic's Warlord, the earlier installments of which can be found here...

"Reminiscing"

Warlord #91 (March 1985)

Written by Cary Burkett; Art by Dan Jurgens.

Synopsis: Morgan, Tara, and their friends decide to head back to the Valley of the Lion to check on the refugees they left encamped there. The villagers around Shaban D’Aba told them about a bridge across a ravine that will greatly shorten their journey.

When they arrive at the bridge, they find it guarded by a giant warrior, who demands they send out a challenger to fight him. On the other side of the ravine, he displays the heads of the challengers he’s defeated. He claims he ate their bodies. Morgan’s response:

As he steps out unto the bridge to meet the giant, Morgan remembers another bully he face before: Danny Maddox, the scourge of Thomas Jefferson Junior High. Morgan stood up to Maddox to protect his friend Chuck. He beat Maddox—just like he beats the giant now. That long ago battle was when he met his first love—Rachel, who would be his wife.

Morgan is lost in the past for a moment before his friends summon him back to the present. Together, they cross the bridge.

In the Valley of the Lion, Ashir interrupts Jennifer Morgan’s study of the gem she got from the sanctum of the Evil One. Discussing the refugee camp, Jennifer mentions “Robin Hood”—a reference Ashir doesn’t get, but a stray thought that reminds Jennifer of her childhood.

She recalls the adventure stories her father read to her, the death of her mother, and the years she believed her father to be dead. Then she found her father alive, in a magical world, living out his fantasies of adventure. She sheds a tear.

Leagues away in Bakwele, the ninja-like Vashek assassins torture one of Patch’s crew for information about the Warlord. The man tells them that Morgan is working for Captain Hawk. The pirate will be their next target.

In his spherical spacecraft, the Monitor reviews some of his history tapes. This helpfully summarizes the history of Skartaris and Morgan’s advent in that world for the new reader.

In the Valley of the Lion, Tinder sees Tara arrive with what he thinks is his talisman on her arm. Tara sees the boy looking at her jewelry and recalls how she met Morgan and they fell in love. He gave her armband—really his wrist-watch—and she later gave it to their infant son Joshua as a toy. Tara believes Joshua to be dead. She has no idea that the young boy that seems so interested in her armband is actually Joshua, but with no knowledge of his true parentage.

Things to Notice:

• Again we get an appearance by the Monitor. This was done in most DC Comics as a lead up to Crisis on Infinite Earths.  His appearance here also serves as a good reason for an origin recap.
• This isn't the last we'll hear of Danny Maddox, Travis Morgan's school-age nemesis.
• This is the first appearance of the Vashek assassins, too.

Where It Comes From:
Most of this issue summarizes events we've seen before, most notably from Warlord's first appearance in First Issue Special #8.  Jennifer's memories of her life after her mother's death and then her father's disappearance were referred to in dialogue, but depicted here for the first time.

Comics to Game

The recent Avengers film has put superhero gaming into my mind, at least as idle consideration.  The new Journey into Mystery collections and the classic Avengers: Kree-Skrull War, got me to thinking about campaigns in superhero games.  Previously, I've done more "done in one" sort of games--though I have done a Secret Wars riff in the past. I think that you could pull off a comic book "epic," though.  Not one of the currently decompressed storylines with a lot of talking heads, but one of the more episodic, action-based stories of the Bronze Age and early Modern period. Something that would provide the room for the player's to make fairly divergent choices than the heroes did on the comics page.

One of the storylines that I think could form the underpinings of a great rpg campaign would be "Lost in Space-Time" in West Coast Avengers.  It's got Rama-Tut, Kang, a host of Old West Marvel heroes, and the Living Totem.  That's epic.

The Kree-Skrull War would be good, too.  Particular if player's could come close to the "hip" dialogue.  Surely extra points would have to be accorded to any character who could replicate the likes of Clint "Goliath" Barton's patter here:

"This is your ten-foot toreador talkin' at ya, crew. Just got a call from Janet Pym--Hank's own ever-loving spouse--otherwise known as the Wonderful Wasp. Don't get it all but seems there's trouble brewin' up in Alaska, where she and Hank are. So, I'm off for the Big Icebox--and hopin' the rest of you aren't too far behind. This sounds big."

Sounds big, indeed.

Dwarf-Land: The Celestial Empire

Here's another mysterious location in Scott's very cool Dwarf-Land that he's leaving for individual DMs to develop.  Given the information presented in Scott's original document, here's my unofficial take:

The Celestial Empire of the China Men is far from Dwarf-Land proper.  It is said to lie a distance farther than from the earth to the moon--which is not so great a distance in Dwarf-Land as in the world we know, but still very far. Merchant caravans from this far-flung empire follow tortuous trails, passing through desert wastes, dessicated seas, and strange-spired cities, and with them they bring the legend and rumor that has formed the total of dwarvish knowledge of this land.

The China Folk are so named because all wear masks of fine porcelain among outsiders--or perhaps (as some travelers’ tales say) their faces are, in fact, made of living porcelain.  Perhaps lending credence to this claim, the skin of high born persons of the China Folk is exceedingly fair and unblemished, often a perfect match for their masks.

The masks are not precisely mobile, but they do change expression. This always happens suddenly.  At one moment, a China Man’s visage man be a mask of joviality, the next, a mask of irritation--but it remains always a mask.  Their aspects change less frequently than the faces of unadorned men, only marking extreme swings of emotion. Canny traders from Dwarf-Land cultivate keen ears for reading Chinese voices.  

The masks tell something of social class.  Those of the peasantry are often grotesque in countenance, with exaggerated grins, outsized noses, or bushy brows.  Their expressions seem to represent the essential character of the person wearing them.  Peasant masks are often chipped or at the very least spider-webbed with fine fractures.

The masks of the upper class are simpler, perhaps more dignified, in mein.  However, even the most  staid among them is not above painting on some brightly colored decoration or swirling pattern for feasts or appearances at court. Courtiers often wear bemused grins beneath shrewdly narrowed eyes; Courtesans favor tiny, puckering bows of crimson painted on fullest swell of their lips. The nobility often sport well-manicured beards and drooping moustaches.

Those of the upper class would die of shame (perhaps literally--Celestial Emperors have been known to order ritual suicide if their serenity is disturbed by unsightliness) if their masks were chipped or cracked.  The palace of their Emperor is said to be filled with cushions and pillows so that the fine china masks of His August Personage and his most beauteous wives and courtesans are never put at risk of damage.

The only exception to the pristine visages of the aristocracy are among the warrior caste. Some ferocious generals have been known to go to battle with the faces of grinning, horned demons.  A certain feared assassin of the Empire is said to wear a mask with a long and prominent crack running from his eye down his cheek, like a deep and unending river of tears.