tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67763748221099665642024-03-13T20:41:08.798-05:00From the AshesThe place where From the Ashes, the post apocalyptic Science Fantasy Role Playing Game, will begin to take shape. Rules, thoughts and ideas will be deposited periodically. I reserve the right to talk about other stuff too, though.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.comBlogger254125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-9911231951613435262014-09-14T17:41:00.001-05:002014-09-23T06:34:11.959-05:00Art! Valère BernardJust found this guy. I can't find much about him, other than he died in the 30s. Some seriously awesome stuff, though - I've just spent the last hour surfing from one image to the next.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">(as pointed out below, the picture above is actually by <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Sidney Sime, who went on to have a unique collaborative relationship with Lord Dunsany. </span><a href="http://www.sidneysimegallery.org.uk/simepix-magazine.shtml" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://www.sidneysimegallery.<wbr></wbr>org.uk/simepix-magazine.shtml</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> ) I'm leaving it here to avoid confusion by future readers.</span></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-82804266221452297722014-08-30T17:10:00.002-05:002014-08-30T17:10:40.400-05:00Modern Weird Horror Dungeoncrawl: The Movie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/O-KIzzF3S0o?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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So As Above, So Below was not what I expected, at all. The trailer bills it as a straight up horror movie, but what I got was more of a dark fantasy dungeon crawl, set in modern times. If anything, it reminded me of a Lamentations of the Flame Princess negadungeon.<br />
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The acting was shit, but that's not really what you're going for. It proceeds at a nice clip, whizzing you along as the hapless fools are forced to go deeper, then deeper, then deeper still. There's a magical artifact, there's characters with specialties (I'm the translator! I'm the climber! I'm the navigator! etc) and.... there's a bunch of set pieces that I'm totally stealing for my next game, so I won't go into it here.<br />
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The ending... well. It's an ending. Not what I would have done with it, but what do I know from movies, eh?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-15139370942332804702014-08-29T08:30:00.000-05:002014-08-29T08:30:08.846-05:00Lasse Hoile<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I first became aware of Lasse Hoile by virtue of his work with <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yh9osYZNilU&list=PLmGrQH0mEcGnZyUpjt8BbL6lTMg9Ci-Bt">Porcupine Tree</a>, a British progressive rock band. He had done extensive work with the band, providing covers and accompanying artwork, similar to the relationship between Gerald Scarfe and Pink Floyd. <a href="https://plus.google.com/104443065999907044162/posts/dhGbs1VSNwV">I just posted a video this morning over on the googles</a> by Steven Wilson, the lead singer of Porcupine Tree, that was created and directed by Lasse Hoile that is pretty much the closest thing we'll ever get to a live action Gamma World movie. Seriously, follow the link above real quick, and tell me I'm wrong. Mutated animals? Check. Mutated plants? Check. Weird Pure Strain Humans with gasmasks? Check. Sounds like Gamma World to me?2<br />
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As long as I was at it, though, I figured I'd collect some of his work here, for your enjoyment.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-15821129179430140842014-08-19T15:34:00.002-05:002014-08-19T15:34:55.913-05:00Planes, Games and Automobiles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Warning: "Back From Gencon" post ahead.<br />
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So I just got back from Gencon, had a blast, yadda yadda.<br />
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I actually didn't do a whole lot of gaming - a game of Kobold's Ate My Baby and a game of Orks were the only scheduled games I made. I had Hobomancer scheduled for Saturday at noon, but convinced myself over time that it was actually Sunday at noon, and spaced it completely until around 4 o'clock Saturday afternoon.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qImLE0oPEJ0/U9-xD_PV2nI/AAAAAAAAHUU/pESZ-wCag-U/w426-h639/DKovacs_Postcard_CatIsland_FRONT%2Bcopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qImLE0oPEJ0/U9-xD_PV2nI/AAAAAAAAHUU/pESZ-wCag-U/w426-h639/DKovacs_Postcard_CatIsland_FRONT%2Bcopy.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a>Unofficially, I had the pleasure of joining "Dougcon", Doug Kovacs' after hours gaming extravaganza. Held every evening, an average of 20-30 people showed up to play a massive Dungeon Crawl Classics game. They were split into groups, and 2-4 GMs were operating in concert, as events in one group would have repercussions on all of the others. It was named, appropriately enough, Escape From Catastrophe Island. <br />
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Doug himself ran several games, Adam Muszkiewicz, several more, Marc Bruner was up in the mix, and yours truly ran a group for the last two nights. <br />
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It was chaotic, it was raucous, it was beautiful. There were ghosts, giant lemur-apes, a Spinner of Doom, slaves, slavers, fish-wizards, weeping angels, cannibals, amazons, lamprey eels, lava flows, corruption waves, giant grasshoppers, plagues, I could go on for days.<br />
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Beyond that, I really just did a lot of wandering. I was really impressed by how much Indianapolis embraces this con - many of the local businesses redecorate, restaurants revamp their menus, and you can sit down at a random table and strike up a conversation with someone about the merits of ascending armor class. Walk into a bar, and you're more likely to see a geek classic playing on the television than a sportsball game. <br />
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The overall impression was that you had slipped into some strange alternate universe where tabletop gaming was the sport of the realm.<br />
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And the Dealer Hall. Ye gods, the Dealer Hall. Calling it massive is an understatement. I spent most of a day just going from one booth to the next, saying hello to various creators and vendors, and staring at the spectacle. Some of the booth designs were just outrageous, and the pageantry on design was absolutely stunning. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG3Z_nzM9u7wh1zhKAdcnuPixC0qpXI_dfWAjMlQYac3LWpu8RYhkc7CuFmMzHOPocDEbaT5WItYAB6jIRXoE5iM0Lwj8pueC8TRL-jg0NeaWkk8Slw6_N_pJXqCzlZNTZHCR49ANIaXgZ/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG3Z_nzM9u7wh1zhKAdcnuPixC0qpXI_dfWAjMlQYac3LWpu8RYhkc7CuFmMzHOPocDEbaT5WItYAB6jIRXoE5iM0Lwj8pueC8TRL-jg0NeaWkk8Slw6_N_pJXqCzlZNTZHCR49ANIaXgZ/s1600/image.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As someone else said, that's a whole lot of beard</td></tr>
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I was particularly impressed by a group of guys who run a game studio by the name of <a href="http://shop.travestygames.com/">Travesty Games</a>. They run games that I want to play. You've missed out on <a href="http://shop.travestygames.com/product/deathfear">Deathfear </a>already, but<a href="http://shop.travestygames.com/product/shindig-machine"> Shindig Machine</a> is still available. <a href="http://shop.travestygames.com/product/kill-ball">Killball</a> and <a href="http://shop.travestygames.com/product/psiduel">Psiduel</a> are next on my list, but if they're half as much fun as the first two, it's gonna be awesome. <br />
<br />
The highlight of the trip, though, was getting to hang out with my online gaming group, the Metal Gods of Ur-Hadad. I've been playing with these guys for over 2 years now, and it was absolutely amazing getting to hang out with them. Various members of the crew and I just down the bars in Indy four nights there, and we had an absolute blast. The guy on the far right even flew in from Uruguay. Freakin <i>Uruguay.</i><br />
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Sunday morning, we got together for breakfast and said our goodbyes, and that's when the real fun began.<br />
<br />
Apparently, Dallas had some weather while I was gone. According to my wife, it was rain, and there was thunder, but no big deal. To hear American Airlines tell it, on the other hand, the Hand of God Himself came down and smote their fleet with wind and rain. My flight Sunday was cancelled, and rescheduled for 7am the next morning. Fortunately, Doug Kovacs had mentioned he was staying behind. I gave him a hand taking down his art, and went to dinner with the Goodman Games crew. That's when I found out that the flight that I had been rescheduled to had been cancelled, and I was now booked on a flight at 7am <i>Tuesday </i>morning.<br />
<br />
So there I was at 2am trying to figure out how the hell I was going to get home, when I came up with the great idea to rent a car and drive back to Dallas on 3 hours of sleep. It went about as well as you'd imagine. Fortunately, I had some great new music to listen to, courtesy of late night conversations with Jürgen Mayer and Julian Bernick. Through storm and wind and ridiculously over-policed stretches of highway in Illinois, I finally made it home around 11pm last night.<br />
<br />
Remember that guy from Uruguay? He was having dinner with his family hours before I made it home.<br />
<br />
Despite the drama at the end, it was badass. I sold it enough to the wife that she's even planning on coming along next year.<br />
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Can't wait - thanks everyone whose name I didn't remember!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-67655890782014161522014-07-11T10:45:00.000-05:002014-07-11T10:45:02.914-05:00The Crawl: A Nihilistic RPG<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7e/Philosophia_Reformata_Emblem_9_-_Putrefactio..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7e/Philosophia_Reformata_Emblem_9_-_Putrefactio..jpg" height="258" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The Setting</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<i>Time is Entropy, Gravity is Death ~ The Cursed Creed</i><br />
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There is a grinding certainty to life since the Black Sun Ascended. Day over day, those that stand out are measured and reduced by the unrelenting pressure of existence, until a smooth surface is all that remains. Soon even memory fades, and life, such as it is, continues, ultimately undisturbed. <br />
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Those unfortunates condemned to this harsh existence measure out their days in terms of length and depth - the lengths they are willing to go to survive, and how far they can burrow. There used to be Life, but no longer. Now there is only the Sun and It's Thoughts, and the Cursed who dig deep in a futile attempt to escape Their Wrath. The charred remains of What Was are all around, scattered like spoiled meat across an unending plain, while the Black Sun looks down with sanguine menace.<br />
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The Black Sun has always been there, but It once had a balancing force. What happened to the Light Sun, no-one knows, but it's gone, and nothing exists to protect Life from the disinterested loathing of it's dark twin. <br />
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Direct exposure to the light of the Black Sun causes agony and death, stretched into infinity by the weight of its Thoughts. The only living beings that survived It's Ascendance were those below ground. Those who currently live are the direct descendants of those unfortunate few. Light is an inexorable force, though, and the Black Sun's light has been chasing the survivors ever since. <br />
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The Cursed, as they call themselves, are the blasted remnants of life in a universe of decay. Cannabalistic parasites, sucking a meager existence from the corpse of a long-dead reality. Once they had nations, races, goals. Now they are one, scattered though they may be. United at last in the unending struggle for survival in a reality that abhors them. <br />
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Once they had names, but names, like much else, have no use in this world. There are many words that have gone extinct, like Love, Happiness, and Rest.<br />
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Now, all there is only The Crawl. <br />
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Each day is the same as the last - all one can do is dig, while the deathly rays of the Black Sun beat upon their backs, worming their way through the cracks and tunnels, chasing the damned souls farther and farther from the surface. If they stop, they are assaulted by manifestations of the Sun's Thoughts. <br />
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<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The History</b></span></div>
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The door between This and Everything Else slammed shut when all that was good fled in the face of the overwhelming force of the Black Sun, hoping to trap It within a prison of existence . <br />
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Now, all that remains are those who weren't quick enough to get out. The Sun squats in the center of a black and broken land, it's baleful gaze so strong that it has pulled reality itself around it. Now it shines down upon everything, crouching in the center of a hollow universe. Day by day, the All is constricted, pulling tighter and tighter around the Sun, and one day All will be pulled within it, finally ending it's eternal evil. <br />
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Unless...<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Punchline:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>The Black Sun is using the characters, and all those still Crawling. They dig to escape It's Black Light, but their escape provides tunnels for It, pathways that It can use to dig into the foundation of It's reality. The characters' struggle for survival will ultimately result in the release of the Black Sun from It's prison, as their efforts will weaken the mortar of existence enough to allow the Terrible Thoughts to shatter it completely, and doom everything Beyond.<br />
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Black Thoughts should torment the players with this knowledge in any encounter, making sure they understand the futility of their actions, their struggles, and their very lives.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Game:</b></span><br />
<ul>
<li>Identity is Meaningless in the Face of Oblivion - Characters have no names, no races. They are only Cursed.</li>
<li>Only the Strong Survive - Roll 5d6 for your attributes.</li>
<li>Knowledge has no Value in a Fallen World - there are no mages.</li>
<li>Possessions are Meaningless in an Impermanent World - there are no thieves.</li>
<li>If There Is a Higher Power, It Does Not Care - there are no clerics.</li>
<li>Life is Endless Conflict - All characters start as 1st level fighters. </li>
<li>Entropy is Absolute - Each hour of real time gameplay, each player rolls 1d4 and deducts that number from a randomly chosen attribute. If any attribute reaches zero, they die. Yes, even Charisma.</li>
<li>Existence is Random and Without Meaningful Purpose - If they roll a 1, they gain a level. They still lose the attribute point, though.</li>
<li>Any Respite From Reality is Temporary - Blackrock is a rare metal that can hold back the rays of the Black Sun for longer than normal earth (approximately 6 hours). Normal, solid earth only provides 1 hour of resistance. Six hour rest restores CON/STA score's worth of HP and 1 randomly determined stat point (never exceeding the original total), 1 hour 1/6 of that amount, but with no stat regeneration.</li>
<li>Even Evil is Banal - There are two types of Thoughts - Black Thoughts and Terrible Thoughts. Black Thoughts worm and slither, sliding through the cracks. They can be driven off, and sometimes even destroyed. Thin and flimsy things, they flutter and shiver, preferring to take their enemies unaware, while they sleep or are otherwise distracted. Terrible Thoughts break and smash. Huge and Solid, they cannot go where the Cursed have not already been to loosen the earth for their passage. They cannot be destroyed, only escaped.</li>
<li>Everyone Digs Their Own Grave - Anyone without a strength modifier can dig about 15 cubic feet per hour. For every point of Strength modifier, add 5 cubic feet.</li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sample Events</b></span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>The party breaks through into a city, hidden so deep that they are unaware of the catastrophes that have happened above. The party has to convince the town elders to evacuate before the Thoughts catch up with them</li>
<li>The party's tunnel connects with a tunnel being dug by a family. The father is almost dead, and the child and mother ask to join the party. A quick examination determines that they will not be able to keep up.</li>
<li>The party encounters an abandoned avatar of a long-forgotten god. It is flickering in and out of existence, it's power almost depleted. It offers to use the remainder of its power to heal the party, but discovers that he cannot, and flickers out of existence, apologizing as he goes.</li>
<li>Cave In! Anyone who fails a Dexterity check is pinned under a large chunk of rock. They can amputate their leg, reducing CON/STA by 1/4, otherwise they must be left behind</li>
</ul>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-22282157240521781602014-07-09T16:15:00.000-05:002014-07-09T16:15:01.153-05:00The Art of Zdzisław BeksińskiPrepare for mind fuckery, because this dude makes Giger look well-adjusted.<br />
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There's a whole lot more where this came from, the dude is nothing if not prolific...<br />
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https://www.google.com/search?q=scary+polish+artist&espv=2&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=2629U8PtNtPhoASu8IDgBg&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1280&bih=939#q=zdzis%C5%82aw+beksi%C5%84ski&tbm=isch<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-75176759096742206872014-06-13T07:00:00.000-05:002014-06-13T07:00:06.606-05:00Post Apocalyptic Theater: The Rover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Ten Years After the Collapse.</b><br />
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Looking back on the film, this really sets the tone for the next hour and forty five minutes. This is a sparse movie, cutting the plot and exposition to the bone, leaving a tale as rawboned and gaunt as the characters. <br />
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It tells you nothing you don't absolutely need to know, like the nature of the Collapse. It doesn't matter. Shit is so far gone that nobody cares about how it got that way anymore. <br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure that this is the latest in a trend in movies, where the funding comes from governmental agencies, tied to the promise by the filmmaker to ensure that they show off the beauty of the land, presumably to encourage tourism. As a result, despite the sparse nature of the film, it feels maybe ten or fifteen minutes too long. Without that extra time, though, it's doubtful the movie would have gotten made, and it's a fair trade for the wide open views of Australia. The vivid colors that float above the dry and dusty brown where the humans live.<br />
<br />
The result is something that feels like a cross between the Road Warrior, but with the breadth and scope of The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford. It's a movie that showcases the beauty of the land, even as mankind roots about in its own shit. It's as much a slow seduction as a film - it pulls you in, teasing you with beauty and ugliness combined, innocence and damnation, black humor and bleak realism. <br />
<br />
As for the acting, Guy Pierce is Guy Pierce. 'Nuff said. <br />
<br />
The real surprise, though, is Robert Pattinson. It's unfortunate that he cut his teeth in Twilight - this is twice now that he's surprised me. While Cosmopolis was ultimately forgettable, he stood out, and here again he disappears into his role, perhaps even more so than in Cronenberg's weak outing. The range of acting on display in his role is nothing short of remarkable, and really drives home the ending.<br />
<br />
It's a testament to the directors of this film that you are sucked into the movie to the extent that you assume the same intensity as Guy Pierce's character. The hows and the why's fall away, leaving you only with the Now. You stop asking questions. You accept situations with the same equanimity that you do the introduction - Ten Years After the Collapse. You quickly realize that it doesn't matter.<br />
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It's not until the end that you're reminded that some things do matter, and all of a sudden, you reevaluate everything that has come before, and only by seeing the distance between your perceptions at the beginning and the end of the film, only then do you understand what it truly means to live in that world. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-52078861157458379532014-03-07T15:30:00.003-06:002014-03-07T15:30:47.367-06:00Wow, I've let this go, haven't I?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yup, it's been a whole month since I posted anything. I've had a post I've been working on, but every time I go to finish it, I just don't have it in me.<br />
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Regardless, I do have a bit of shameless self-promotion to mention - if you look to your right, you'll see an image of <a href="http://pulpmillpress.blogspot.com/">Pulp Mill Press</a>' Libram Mysterium. Click upon it, and be transported to its Drivethru Fiction page. <br />
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You'll find within its pages tales of pulpy goodness, with fantasy, horror and other weirdness all well represented. My own story, Frosttouch, is within, and it's not too shabby, if I do say so myself.<br />
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Anyhow, that's all for now. I'm sure I'll pick back up on this soon.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-43094882068639256642014-01-31T11:10:00.002-06:002014-01-31T11:10:47.533-06:00Tayxis: Bright Lights, Big City<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://stylefavor.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/texas-dallas-skyline-at-night-free-hd-wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://stylefavor.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/texas-dallas-skyline-at-night-free-hd-wallpaper.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a>Up until this point, I've mostly toyed with the "Weird Western" aspects of Tayxis, but there's more to it<br />
than just prairie dogs and barbed wire, or at least there can be, if someone so desires.<br />
<br />
Because of the way <a href="http://fromtheashesrpg.blogspot.com/2013/10/tayxis-technology.html">technology works in Tayxis</a>, there is an opportunity for completely different types of adventures once you get into the bigger cities. Dee Eff Dubya, for instance, is pretty much the same in Tayxis as it is here. <br />
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Except it's not like here at all.<br />
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<i>Foul beasts creep in from the wastelands, nesting in the sewers and tunnels that criss-cross the metroplexes. Religious revivals are followed by counter-revivals and neorevivals, as one spiritual trend after the next sweeps up the hoi polloi in rapturous fervor. Modern Primitives seek to knock the underpinnings of society free from their fragile moorings, while Big Oil Men set fire to the land, one oil field at a time, hoping to attract the attention of their demonic masters. </i><br />
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~ A Disinformation Guide to Dee Eff Dubya, 2014 ed.<br />
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<i>Yeah, I'd say drugs are rampant, but cocaine and heroin? Shit, that's for pussies and teenagers these days. You haven't seen somebody get high - I mean really fucking high - until you've caught up with someone who just smoked some angel hair, or done a line of powdered demon's horn. And speaking of angels and demons, whoo-boy. Turns out they can NOT hold their shit together here on earth. They almost all end up junkies, but they don't get addicted to drugs, or at least most of them don't. They just get... fixated. I used to know an angel that was addicted to the sound of a saxophone, and went into fits if one weren't playing constantly. What happened to it? Got killed trying to break into the apartment of the Saxman. You know, the one that plays down at 35th and Vine? Yeah, climbed through the guy's window in the middle of the night. Saxman's girlfriend stabbed him in the eye with a letter opener. A junkie is a junkie, no matter where they're from.</i><br />
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<i> ~ </i>Sgt. Mike Greeley, DEDPD<br />
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<i>The Devil lies under Palo Duro Canyon, my Brothers and Sisters! He lies there, but he is not sleeping, oh no! Do not be fooled my friends, for his agents walk the earth, and they reside in the buildings behind me! Our very souls are in peril, and while the hour grows late, there is still time! The First Assembly of End Times Salvation welcomes you all, and begs you, implores you - pick up your weapons and fight! Fight while you are still able for the Devil's arm is long and his claws are sharp! He reaches out - Hey! Wait! You can't.... Stop! Aaaagh! AAAGH!!!!! HE - HELP ME FOR THE LOVE OF GAAAAA.... *unintelligible screaming*</i><br />
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<i>~</i>Final words of Hezekiah Smalls, moments before being ripped apart by an unseen force, as caught on tape. Case Pending. Tape property of DEDPD.<br />
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<i>While I certainly understand the concerns of the citizens, I can assure you that the tremors and sinkholes which have sprung up are simply part of the natural order - these things are cyclical, you see. Going back sixty years, you find another rash of such geological instability, and another eighty years before that. It's just the way the Earth works, and has nothing to do with the recent rollout of our Urban Oil Project. Let me state unequivocally - there is no correlation between the recent geological instability and injection wells or other fracking techniques at use in your neighborhoods. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> ~</i> Elijah Brockman, CEO of Texxon Oil<br />
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<i>Ah... um... yes. At oh-four-forty, we were deployed to a position approximately three miles outside the Barrier, in response to a Terrorantula sighting. We, uh... we established a beachhead at the, uh, the rise over there. It was then that we, uh, we discovered the tunnel. As it turned out, a group of narcomutants had constructed a tunnel and were funneling their, uh... their product into the city via this method. We found ourselves under fire from the, uh... the perpetrators, and uh... we sustained heavy casualties. It was only due to the, uh... the Grace of the Good Lord... Is it okay that I said that? Grace of the Good Lord? Okay. It was only due to the Grace of the Good Lord that we were able to defeat the, uh... the narcomutants. I do understand them, uh... to be affiliated with the Cartel, but obviously, I... uh... I would have no way of knowing for sure. I'm just a jarhead.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> ~</i>First Lieutenant Samuel Hayes, Tayxin Marine Corps<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>This city is ours for the taking...</i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> ~</i>Timothy Sterns, Grand Warden, OAP (<a href="http://fromtheashesrpg.blogspot.com/2013/11/tayxis-antipostles.html">Ordinem Aurea Palma</a>)<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-26591129614789884592014-01-28T07:48:00.001-06:002014-01-28T07:48:56.996-06:00FtA: From the Ashes Play Report<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEize5VFJDaPEQIyXexGnjLUKdetQxZwOGrI-gEXqafb8WbNmPIQUxnF930kPRvjjhyHQMbBE1-fpzGZV95iN3NWB5k2FpNlGJCXURi0qgURVQANcGIqwjpt5i9kBpXBQLR3nVQWp4LRnAwg/s1600/ashes.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEize5VFJDaPEQIyXexGnjLUKdetQxZwOGrI-gEXqafb8WbNmPIQUxnF930kPRvjjhyHQMbBE1-fpzGZV95iN3NWB5k2FpNlGJCXURi0qgURVQANcGIqwjpt5i9kBpXBQLR3nVQWp4LRnAwg/s1600/ashes.bmp" height="320" width="209" /></a>Awhile back, I was a backer of <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/847190685/sorcerer-upgrade">Ron Edwards' Sorceror Upgrade Kickstarter</a>. I backed at the level which forced Ron to playtest my game. It took forever for me to hammer what I had into some sort of usable form, but I finally managed to get it to him, and he was able to run a session of From the Ashes last weekend. As promised, <a href="http://indie-rpgs.com/adept/index.php?topic=272.0">he's written up a review of the experience, warts and all.</a>.<br />
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I'm glad some fun was able to be wrung from the game, and while I obviously have some more work to do in order to get it ready for primetime, so to speak, it is encouraging to know that I at least seem to be on the right path.<br />
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More soon!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-6877351528066428152014-01-17T08:33:00.000-06:002014-01-17T08:33:07.819-06:00FtA: The Other Side of the Border<a class="g-profile" href="https://plus.google.com/110790893064742233179" target="_blank">+Wayne Snyder</a> does it again. The look and feel of these borders is just pitch perfect. Here is the border for the right hand page....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileXJhPfL3PDHJYY1XB7PwTDm96PP2Tpqy92VbKGqDrwkni9JhF6zxyXSgfudQ12DGEjaxrS11rqcusU5M6dkGUPigE6JvLoOB72mxZKeaVvCZnI83GqlZy_uRHB0AVvI5nHBbBNE78dZE/s1600/FtApageborderrightside4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileXJhPfL3PDHJYY1XB7PwTDm96PP2Tpqy92VbKGqDrwkni9JhF6zxyXSgfudQ12DGEjaxrS11rqcusU5M6dkGUPigE6JvLoOB72mxZKeaVvCZnI83GqlZy_uRHB0AVvI5nHBbBNE78dZE/s1600/FtApageborderrightside4.jpg" height="640" width="476" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0UEMT5iuGjDuiZbM5YiA_-OiS6VDbSXtk7_wCx5frVJlnofPNVHWTgX7iMGlwEv_Bu16_MpN6psRLcUTIK4viqc-QYu06h45JsLR26JfCDZY5Do0mMOmYbuZkDQAR47pSUDKyV08NNMR/s1600/FtApageborderdoublepage1+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0UEMT5iuGjDuiZbM5YiA_-OiS6VDbSXtk7_wCx5frVJlnofPNVHWTgX7iMGlwEv_Bu16_MpN6psRLcUTIK4viqc-QYu06h45JsLR26JfCDZY5Do0mMOmYbuZkDQAR47pSUDKyV08NNMR/s1600/FtApageborderdoublepage1+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0UEMT5iuGjDuiZbM5YiA_-OiS6VDbSXtk7_wCx5frVJlnofPNVHWTgX7iMGlwEv_Bu16_MpN6psRLcUTIK4viqc-QYu06h45JsLR26JfCDZY5Do0mMOmYbuZkDQAR47pSUDKyV08NNMR/s1600/FtApageborderdoublepage1+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0UEMT5iuGjDuiZbM5YiA_-OiS6VDbSXtk7_wCx5frVJlnofPNVHWTgX7iMGlwEv_Bu16_MpN6psRLcUTIK4viqc-QYu06h45JsLR26JfCDZY5Do0mMOmYbuZkDQAR47pSUDKyV08NNMR/s1600/FtApageborderdoublepage1+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0UEMT5iuGjDuiZbM5YiA_-OiS6VDbSXtk7_wCx5frVJlnofPNVHWTgX7iMGlwEv_Bu16_MpN6psRLcUTIK4viqc-QYu06h45JsLR26JfCDZY5Do0mMOmYbuZkDQAR47pSUDKyV08NNMR/s1600/FtApageborderdoublepage1+copy.jpg" height="270" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0UEMT5iuGjDuiZbM5YiA_-OiS6VDbSXtk7_wCx5frVJlnofPNVHWTgX7iMGlwEv_Bu16_MpN6psRLcUTIK4viqc-QYu06h45JsLR26JfCDZY5Do0mMOmYbuZkDQAR47pSUDKyV08NNMR/s1600/FtApageborderdoublepage1+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0UEMT5iuGjDuiZbM5YiA_-OiS6VDbSXtk7_wCx5frVJlnofPNVHWTgX7iMGlwEv_Bu16_MpN6psRLcUTIK4viqc-QYu06h45JsLR26JfCDZY5Do0mMOmYbuZkDQAR47pSUDKyV08NNMR/s1600/FtApageborderdoublepage1+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0UEMT5iuGjDuiZbM5YiA_-OiS6VDbSXtk7_wCx5frVJlnofPNVHWTgX7iMGlwEv_Bu16_MpN6psRLcUTIK4viqc-QYu06h45JsLR26JfCDZY5Do0mMOmYbuZkDQAR47pSUDKyV08NNMR/s1600/FtApageborderdoublepage1+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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And here is the complete layout, left page, right page. Amazing!<br />
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Seriously - if you're working on something that needs some sharp art, hit Wayne up - great artist, amazing person.<br />
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Thanks Wayne!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-57666350520910536592014-01-10T11:02:00.001-06:002014-01-10T12:37:10.666-06:00FtA: Border Illustration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /><br />I really hope From the Ashes ends up being good, because the bar on the art side of things keeps getting raised. Artist extraordinaire <a href="https://plus.google.com/110790893064742233179">+Wayne Snyder</a> sent me the designe for the borders yesterday, and it is a thing of... well, not beauty, but awesome!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I should point out, as Wayne did, the "sentient plant menacing a frogsnailrabbit with a screw driver" in the lower right hand corner, because that just makes it.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivBRE9QIpiF0UWIBTc5ctA3Vin2y3Lxn0sW8lv9Yhez-PzCUwsnSS7IlaklQfNlGh9cDj1LoaM4fZSEkdHvqNnotEVunJIWdygsKxUi3A73wbN9v6AGP5dXwEvVMA_NPhMvYimPgfbYNuA/s1600/FtA+Border+Final+Left+Side.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivBRE9QIpiF0UWIBTc5ctA3Vin2y3Lxn0sW8lv9Yhez-PzCUwsnSS7IlaklQfNlGh9cDj1LoaM4fZSEkdHvqNnotEVunJIWdygsKxUi3A73wbN9v6AGP5dXwEvVMA_NPhMvYimPgfbYNuA/s1600/FtA+Border+Final+Left+Side.jpg" height="640" width="486" /></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-13200194603484323042014-01-09T14:54:00.000-06:002014-01-09T14:54:00.629-06:00Tayxis: Ghost Town Random Encounters<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/tkfGL5u6WRMG4MfBdkHSV04WEn5vFZpbPaPISFQN8vCSNwE7k9euanudKpngPL20Juy85CtMHMy90DmeTeBS-VGPml8ldBmw5Hr0-D-moZJQLAgoL6w" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/tkfGL5u6WRMG4MfBdkHSV04WEn5vFZpbPaPISFQN8vCSNwE7k9euanudKpngPL20Juy85CtMHMy90DmeTeBS-VGPml8ldBmw5Hr0-D-moZJQLAgoL6w" height="265" width="400" /></a><br />
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Ghost towns are dangerous places in Tayxis, where literally anything can happen. In these deserted towns, the line between this life and the next begins to blur, <a href="http://fromtheashesrpg.blogspot.com/2013/10/tayxis-technology.html">technology ceases to function</a>, and strange things can occur at any time.<br />
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Go ahead and roll a d20, pardner - see what happens.<br />
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1. A group of spectral children emerge from around the corner, laughing wildly. Upon seeing the characters, they stop and appear first puzzled, then horrified. They begin to scream, clawing wildly at their intangible bodies before melting into the earth, leaving behind the stench of burnt rubber.<br />
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2. A figure sleeps under a large hat and blanket on the side of a building. If prodded, it mumbles something and waves a gun vaguely at the group. The blanket falls away, revealing goat legs - obviously a demon. This demon is ridiculously drunk, though, and in no shape to battle anyone. He can be slain with ease, but will curse any involved in its demise. Pass an Intelligence Check or suffer a -1 penalty to all rolls until the curse is removed.<br />
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3. Every door in town suddenly slams at once. The echoes resound for 2d4 rounds.<br />
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4. The next building entered is a portal of some sort. The first person through it is disconnected from reality for the next 1d6 hours. They can see and observe others, but everyone else can only sense them by the chill in the air and the whining of dogs when they pass. No matter how they shout or flail about, they are unable to be seen or to interact directly with the real world.<br />
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5. The sensation of having walked through a spiderweb overcomes the group, and everyone who fails a Wisdom check spends the next turn trying to pluck nonexistent strands from their hair and body.<br />
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6. Small cracks appear in the ground all around the party, and black, acrid smoke pours forth, obscuring vision for 2d6 rounds.<br />
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7. A voice begins to hiss, whispering sibilant warnings into the ears of every party member that fails a Charisma check. The whisper tells of another party member's plans to betray them (determined at random). Each character thus affected believes these warnings to be their own thoughts.<br />
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8. The sound of heavy boots and spurs resound through the street. A ghostly voice whispers, "Draw", and a shot rings out. The party must pass a Dexterity check or take 2d6 points of damage as they're shot through with hot lead.<br />
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9. The party notices luminescent eyes peering out from darkened windows and other recesses that disappear when investigated.<br />
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10. A Ranger lies in the street, bloody and on the brink of death. He warns of a swarm of rats that appeared from the basement of one of the buildings. He points to another building, indicating where they went, and then dies.<br />
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11. Two <a href="http://fromtheashesrpg.blogspot.com/2013/09/tayxis-bestiary.html">Barbed Wire Golems</a> do battle, appearing as a single ball of wire tying itself in increasingly tight knots. If left to its own devices, it will tighten until it is unable to move, then collapse to the earth, a solid ball of barbed metal. If disrupted, both Golems will turn and attack the interloper.<br />
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12. A door blows open, and six skeletal figures in rotted cowboy outfits can be seen sitting around a table, playing poker. One of them stands suddenly and pulls an antique firearm, points it at the skeleton across from it and fires. All six skeletons disappear, and the pistol drops to the ground. The pistol is magical, and can be used to attack the incorporeal. <br />
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13. Clocks sound from all over town, all striking 13. The dead rise, all of them. Waves upon waves of the dead pour forth from buildings and from the earth itself, and the party will be face constant attack until they leave town, at which point the dead collapse into dust. The party is unable to return to the town, blocked by a mystical force.<br />
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14. From the left comes the sound of whistling, a low mournful tune that reminds each member of the part of a song from their childhoo. From the right comes an accompaniment on a banjo. <br />
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15. A fallen angel weeps quietly, hugging a grave. It ignores the party for several rounds, resisting any attempt to console or otherwise communicate with it. It then pulls a gun from the folds of its robes, looks at the party with dead eyes and intones, "This is all there is.", and then shoots itself.<br />
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16. Pale, worm-ridden hands burst forth from the ground, grabbing the ankles of any party member who fails a Dexterity check. Each hand has 10 hit points, and an AC of 4. They will not release the character once it has grabbed hold, unless it has been destroyed. There is a 35% chance that any character so grabbed will contract a wasting disease if they fail a Constitution check at a -4 penalty.<br />
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17. A Giant Dust Elemental blows through town, obscuring sight and causing 1d2 damage/round to anyone exposed or in the open. It takes 2d6 rounds to pass through, and is immune to everything but magical weapons and fire.<br />
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18. A horse suddenly wheels around a corner, charging towards the party, a man in black crouched low on its back. "Heeyah! Heeyah!" the man shouts, slapping at the horse's backside. Several bags weigh heavily on the saddle, and one falls as the horse rides by. Gold spills out from it. <br />
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Several rounds later, a platoon of heavily armed men, also on horseback, race by. If the gold still sits on the earth, one will grab it as they go. If a party member takes any or all of it, twelve men will peel off from the group, sniffing the air. They will offer to give the party a pass if they surrender the gold, stating they are acting on the orders of a General Scott, who the party has never heard of. If the party refuses, a battle ensues.<br />
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19. The characters notice that the entire party is sweating blood. Effect persists for 6d4 hours.<br />
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20. The earth shakes as a <a href="http://fromtheashesrpg.blogspot.com/2013/09/tayxis-bestiary.html">Terrorantula</a> lumbers towards the town! There is a 10% chance per round, cumulative, that the Terrorantula spies each member of the party that remains outside of a building. Once spotted, it will attempt to kill or drive away those that have attempted to infiltrate its territory.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-49858668168110379552014-01-08T17:39:00.002-06:002014-01-09T09:27:21.987-06:00Tayxis: Setting: Osteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>"Even now, in Heaven there were Angels carrying strange weapons."</i></div>
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<i> ~St. Paul, The Prophecy (1995)</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Deep in the bilge and putrescence of the wasted blights of Tayxis, a beacon stands, a light of hope to the the land. This incandescent wonder is Osteen, home of the Mother Church. Its proud spires stand, pristine amongst the filth and squalor of the surrounding lands, a bright white hole burned into the mottled rot.</div>
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The mighty walls which embrace the city offer sanctuary from the fallen world. Within, one may shake trail dust from worn boots, mend the broken-minded, straighten the crooked-souled. In tales told by drink-sodden drifters, Osteen is known as The Eye, through which the One True God keeps watch on His flock in the Last Lands of Tayxis. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Surely something protects this haven from the vulturous beasts that prowl at the edges of its light. Surely the <a href="http://fromtheashesrpg.blogspot.com/2013/11/tayxis-ranger.html">Tayxis Rangers</a> have something to do with this, as their Holy Order is based at Mission San José de los Nazonis nestled deep in the heart of Osteen. While they don't assume direct responsibility for the force which seems to keep out those of ill intent, they don't deny it either. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
The All Father presides over his flock from the Central Mission, itself a true miracle. Shaped from the earth itself, it sweeps upwards organically, less piercing the sky than stroking it. Eyes are drawn, unbidden, to its heights, and observers swear they feel true peace as they caress its curves.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
The All Father's personal security force, the Templuritans, maintain order within the borders of the city, and enjoy an understanding with the Rangers, whose authority goes unchallenged in the wilderness. Swords remain sheathed, pistols holstered - after all, who would want to spoil all of this beauty?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The city itself is divided among the Outer and Inner Rings. The Inner Ring is the exclusive province of the Church. Lay ministers may enter, but only on official business, all others not of the Mother Church are excluded. The Outer Ring is for those who reach upwards, but cannot quite grasp the majesty of the Faith. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
All are welcome within Osteen's sanctified borders - rest and be well!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>So that's the official story.</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Truth be told, the Eye has grown milky with age, seeing less and less as time slips away. Shadows begin to creep into the corners of its vision, but whether it is actual Darkness remains to be seen. As the filigree on its wondrous spires cracks and falls to the earth, the All Father rants in his enclave, seeing enemies all around him. Even his closest confidants are beginning to wonder if stress and dementia haven't finally taken the final toll from their leader. Nonetheless, he weilds power, and uses his Templuritans to enforce his brand of order. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Outer Ring is still relatively unaffected as of yet, but within the Inner Ring, a police state has emerged that puts a boot to the neck of all but the most orthodox of the faith. There are stories of Brothers of the Faith disappearing, snatched from their cells under the cover of darkness, and the sound of heavy construction coming from far beneath the Central Mission after last Vespers. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Most worrying of all, a tense standoff is at hand - a Brother has taken refuge within the Mission San José de los Nazonis, seeking sanctuary with the Rangers. He claims to be fleeing the Templuritans, and while no-one has officially requested that he be handed over to the All Father's forces, a squad of Templuritans is encamped outside of the entrance to their Mission.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Meanwhile the Protection from Evil spell which has guarded the Eye is beginning to fail. None can tell why it is failing, let alone how to restore it. In the dark hours of the morning, a baker, heading out to open his shop, was attacked in the main thoroughfare, drained of all his blood and dumped into the fountain. Fortunately, a squad of Templuritans discovered the body before daybreak and were able to erase the evidence before it was discovered, but patrols have been stepped up in the Outer Ring nonetheless, and the All Father begins to wonder if his enemies haven't finally chosen this time to strike. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Finally, reports of <a href="http://fromtheashesrpg.blogspot.com/2013/11/tayxis-antipostles.html">Antipostles</a> working in the surrounding areas have increased as farmers take shelter and seek the Rangers help in ridding the land of their evil. Where once the Rangers might have ridden out in force and cleared the area, they find themselves caught up in the politics of the city.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And night draws ever closer....</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-79838556514587462792014-01-04T16:51:00.000-06:002014-01-05T09:22:18.039-06:00Tayxis: This Is Desperation<br />
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<a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/03/21/article-0-1242BC07000005DC-94_964x623.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-43609654007009362202014-01-03T16:44:00.000-06:002014-01-04T15:46:38.212-06:00A Tale of Woe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I grabbed Skyrim the day it came out, and didn't play another game for over a year. I didn't always play video games, but when I did it was Skyrim.</div>
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A few months ago, we babysat one of my wife's various and sundry relatives. The young lad is a bit sheltered, and he was terribly excited to see me playing Skyrim when his parents dropped him off. Being the type to encourage the corruption of innocent youth whenever and wherever possible, I allowed him to play some Skyrim, sure, no problem, whatever.</div>
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It wasn't until the little tyke had left that I remembered that there are only so many auto-save slots on the game, and every time the little guy went in and out of a house, it created a new autosave.</div>
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Problem was? It had been over three months since I had last actually saved the game - I just let my autosaving do the work for me. Every time it autosaved, I lost an autosave, until there was nothing left but the flailings of an eight year old.</div>
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So, yeah. It's taken me this long to get over it, but it feels good to be able to talk about it. I had GTA V to tide me over recently, so that was cool, but as I'm listening to the OST, my heart pines for Skyrim's rugged peaks and dark dungeons.</div>
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I think I'll be visiting there again soon.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-66950875938193852372014-01-02T14:43:00.001-06:002014-01-02T14:43:52.755-06:00FtA: The Cover for From the Ashes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As promised, this is the cover for From the Ashes, as drawn by the estimable <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Mahfood">Jim Mahfood</a>. I've been a huge fan of his work forever, and I couldn't be happier with what he came up with. </div>
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This is coming closer to being a real live thing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3k1xE2jlcNWg4e9iNeNt9hXLlJGt4XdcKG-lUuejMgG_v-qVoNM4dg8QDNDh5cbco0SmTLbtP6ZCaj8LwKycQdlE3LDqaY0UDcEHH6eNJrQzFBZr3zhGM5IDB6HwMJZYqBwsmFSZJQkJ/s1600/ashes.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3k1xE2jlcNWg4e9iNeNt9hXLlJGt4XdcKG-lUuejMgG_v-qVoNM4dg8QDNDh5cbco0SmTLbtP6ZCaj8LwKycQdlE3LDqaY0UDcEHH6eNJrQzFBZr3zhGM5IDB6HwMJZYqBwsmFSZJQkJ/s1600/ashes.bmp" height="640" width="417" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-16356173432928563012013-12-31T11:20:00.001-06:002013-12-31T11:20:33.556-06:00The Year in ReviewIt's been an interesting year, to say the least.<br />
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Gaming wise, it's been one of my least productive, while creatively it's been quite the opposite, just not on this blog. Or rather, not with the regularity of previous years. I think the lack of blog activity is tied to the lack of gaming though - going through old posts, I see that many were play reports. Take those away, and all that is left is pretty much the same volume of what I've put out this year. Maybe a little more, but not much.<br />
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I think a large portion of my creative energies have been sapped by my job, which picked this year to turn batshit insane on me, my wife and I moving into a house midyear, and my rededication to writing. My short story writing has been positively prolific this year - I've joined a local writer's workshop, and I've submitted several stories for publication, with some positive results. Getting a story accepted into Pulp Mill Press' Libram Mysterium project was a big boost, and I've finished several stories since, with several more in various stages of completion.<br />
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There's also Google Plus, where I've found myself losing hours and hours.<br />
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I finally hammered From the Ashes into some sort of workable draft and pushed it out to several people to look over and review, and collected various art pieces from several artists, and it seems to be slowly taking shape into an actual <i>thing, </i>which blows my frikkin' mind. It's been an airy mass of thoughts and ideas for so long that my mind rejects any attempt to process it as something that I may be able to hold in my hand soon.<br />
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In an attempt to back away from FtA for awhile so that I can be heartless and cruel when it goes to editing, I started up with Tayxis. Initially just a joke that I ribbed my wife about, it's turned into something a bit more serious, and in typical fashion, as soon as I've started taking it seriously, my muse flew away. That, combined with my job insanity, has made the last month pretty difficult creatively. <br />
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Things seem to be settling down, though, and my thoughts are turning once more to the sweltering lands of the Lone Star, so I have a feeling 2014 will see a whole lot more Tayxis. <br />
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One last thing regarding From the Ashes - I promised way back when to show off the cover, and while I did forget, I haven't forgotten. I think that will make a very nice first blog post for 2014.<br />
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Happy New Year, everyone!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-81001105516946852612013-12-10T10:11:00.001-06:002013-12-10T10:11:32.684-06:00Tayxis: Appendix NFun fun fun time! This is a list of books and movies which have had formative influence on Tayxis. So if you need to get into the mood, sit back, pop open a bottle of Shiner Bock, and enjoy.<br />
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<b>Preacher: </b>This is the big one. Before I moved to Texas, before I had ever been to Texas, I knew Texas. Garth Ennis, bless his Irish heart, understands the mythological underpinnings that make this state what it is. It's god vampires, angels, demons, the Saint of Killers, rednecks, Christian conspiracies, honestly - if you haven't read this yet, just go. Start reading it now. Thank me later.<br />
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<b>Demonographia : Dictionnaire Infernal: </b>Written by Jaques Auguste Simon Collin de Plancy with incredible art by Louis Le Breton, this is a "go-to" book when it comes to all things Demonic. Recently translated into English by Trident Books, it's a thing of beauty. Breton's illustrations are evocative, to say the least, and each demon gets its own description. All it's missing are some stat blocks to make it a proper RPG Supplement. <br />
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b7/Joe_lansdale_2007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b7/Joe_lansdale_2007.jpg" height="306" width="320" /></a><b>The Works of Joe R. Lansdale - </b>Mr. Texas Horror.<br />
I've only recently started reading him, but he's definitely in there. Writer of the Purple Rage and High Cotton are the length and breadth of my experience thus far, but I've got The Complete Drive-In glaring at me accusingly from my bedside table, and I can only take that for so long. <br />
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I hear you, right now, going, "Whaaaaa?" Maine can't be any further from Texas, and you're right. But at the same time, it captures the essence of small town horror so perfectly, I'd be remiss not to include it as an influcer. <br />
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<a href="http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo66/Mi-Go2oo8/noname.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo66/Mi-Go2oo8/noname.jpg" height="247" width="320" /></a><b>The Dollars Trilogy: </b>For some people, John Wayne is the quintissential cowboy, but for me it will always be Clint Eastwood, and these films in particular seem to evoke everything that is awesome about Westerns. You can argue about how it ripped off Yojimbo, and you'd probably be right, but <i>I don't care. </i>It showcases everything that made the Old West awesome - it was dirty and grimy and morally ambivalent and everything that John Wayne wouldn't have gone anywhere near. </div>
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<b>Dallas: </b>C'mon, admit it. You've watched an episode or two. Everyone has, it's okay. </div>
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<a href="http://www.literarydeathmatch.com/storage/alfredo-garcia1.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1294743931745" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.literarydeathmatch.com/storage/alfredo-garcia1.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1294743931745" height="192" width="320" /></a><b>Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia: </b>Sam Peckinpah's greatest film. Just as gritty as any of Leone's westerns, this is 70s action at its finest, but one of the best directors. The first of two of his movies on this list, so that should give you an idea of my feelings on his work. <br />
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<a href="http://www.newwavefilm.com/images/the-wild-bunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.newwavefilm.com/images/the-wild-bunch.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><b>The Wild Bunch: </b>The other one by Peckinpah, a Saturday afternoon viewing of this movie was what gave me the idea of different technological zones within Tayxis. It really captures the idea of changing times, and the people who are left behind as it happens. <br />
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innocent, becuase it's obviously set in Texas. If the first scene doesn't convince you, I dunno what to tell you. Regardless, it's Lee Marvin in his prime, doing what he does best - being a badass. Gene Hackman is the baddie, and this is the film that introduced the world to Sissy Spacek. But yeah - it's totally Texas, all the way.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-69374293967321340402013-11-25T17:13:00.000-06:002013-11-25T17:13:04.367-06:00Tayxis: Damnation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satan_Is_Real">Like The Louvin Brothers said, "Satan Is Real"</a> and nowhere is that more true than deep in the heart of Tayxis. <br />
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Although I've been using AD&D 2e for system specific stuff (that may change in the near future when I start going back and collating all of this stuff, but for now....), I'm adding another "stat" - Damnation.<br />
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You can't tell a horror story in America - especially in a setting based on Texas - without the disposition of the soul coming into play at some point. <br />
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So my thinking is that the Damnation Stat replaces Alignment, and that some characters start off with more than others. It should serve a dual purpose - it should inform your gameplay, sort of a measure of your altruistic intent (or lack thereof), and also serve some sort of mechanical purpose, say the higher you go, the greater the likelihood that you'll wake up one morning smelling like burnt toast, or perhaps you grow little nubbins for horns. Not sure yet, but that's the gist of the idea. Or maybe it just acts as a modifier to reaction rolls - the Damned Know Their Own sort of thing.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-14331983482400937732013-11-19T11:00:00.000-06:002013-11-19T11:00:13.860-06:00Tayxis Art: Gustav Dore<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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A French Illustrator in the mid-1800s, Gustav Dore has been a huge influence on my work on Tayxis. His illustrations for Dante's Divine Comedy, Lord Byron's works, Milton's Paradise Lost and the Bible, among many others, were years ahead their time. The level of detail and intricacy is astounding, even today. <br />
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So rather than write something today, I'm just going to show you some of my favorite works by Dore.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-7791811153628111952013-11-18T09:21:00.001-06:002013-11-18T12:51:13.225-06:00Cthulhu Country<div style="text-align: right;">
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<a href="http://robot6.comicbookresources.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/north40-6-top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://robot6.comicbookresources.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/north40-6-top.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">An inversion of the what you expect from a Cthulhu tale, Cthulhu Country is Lovecraft reimagined in the Jim Crow Era Deep South. Rather than coming from the sea, the threats in this mythos come from the unfathomable depths of the coal mine, from the whispers carried along the breeze in the piney woods, from white robed cultists, and strange creatures that call in the night. You are one of the few, who have stumbled upon these ancient secrets, and must do your best to keep your sanity, while preventing the uncaring darkness from swallowing the world whole.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Times, They Are A Changin':</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's a time of turmoil, of chaos. Although the Civil War was fought and lost almost a hundred years prior, the specter of slavery looms large over the Southern United States. While the Federal Government is becoming less and less willing to allow the South to wallow in its past, there are those that have lived for generations in a certain way, and refuse to acknowledge their new reality. They shrink back from it, screaming in abject horror as the future is revealed to them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">All the while, deep within the mountains and the woods, there are those who refuse to give up the Old Ways. While they know that it's only a matter of time before they are uncovered, they know nothing else, so they suck the sizzling fat from their fingertips, pack up their stills and move deeper into the darkness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">They clutch tightly to their Family Bibles and their shotguns and their Old Ways, and woe to the outsider who stumbles upon their clannish encampments. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Cultists: </b>...<i>b</i><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;"><i>ut their dead bodies had told their secrets in dreams to the first men, who formed a cult which had never died. This was that cult, and the prisoners said it had always existed and always would exist, hidden in distant wastes and dark places all over the world until the time when the great priest Cthulhu, from his dark house in the mighty city of R'lyeh under the waters, should rise and bring the earth again beneath his sway. Some day he would call, when the stars were ready, and the secret cult would always be waiting to liberate him. ~The Call of Cthulhu</i></span></span><br />
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<b>Shub-Niggurath: </b><i>One squat, black temple of Tsathoggua was encountered, but it had been turned into a shrine of Shub-Niggurath, the All-Mother and wife of the the Not-to-Be-Named-One. This deity was a kind of sophisticated Astarte, and her worship struck the pious Catholic as supremely obnoxious. ~ </i>The Mound</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Deep Ones: </b><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;"><i>They were mostly shiny and slippery... with prodigious bulging eyes that never closed. At the sides of their necks were palpitating gills... They hopped irregularly, sometimes on two legs and sometimes on four. I was somehow glad that they had no more than four limbs. Their croaking, baying voices, clearly used for articulate speech, held all the dark shades of expression which their staring faces lacked. ~ The Shadow Over Innsmouth</i></span></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.greencupboards.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/Kudzu.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.greencupboards.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/Kudzu.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: bold;">The Crawling Chaos:<i> </i></b><i>And under a ghastly moon there gleamed sights I can never describe, sights I can never forget; deserts of corpse-like clay and jungles of ruin and decadence where once stretched the populous plains and villages of my native land...Around the northern pole steamed a morass of noisome growths and miasmal vapours... From the new-flooded lands it flowed again, uncovering death and decay; and from its ancient and immemorial bed it trickled loathsomely, uncovering nighted secrets of the years when Time was young and the gods unborn. ~The Crawling Chao</i>s</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQg2-lMKvgB0w5uwF3q8lFBjPRAZxum1kLNa9TKKnpdDJrwo3mNqsUERgRMzcjRDxysWzacud7lvDuX8A8oJTdfTvqTgnXuzhp2QBLmPdsK2bpryTLR_7FWZzSzUYcc_usiTqfLLOvEBmH/s1600/chupacabra_winged.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQg2-lMKvgB0w5uwF3q8lFBjPRAZxum1kLNa9TKKnpdDJrwo3mNqsUERgRMzcjRDxysWzacud7lvDuX8A8oJTdfTvqTgnXuzhp2QBLmPdsK2bpryTLR_7FWZzSzUYcc_usiTqfLLOvEBmH/s1600/chupacabra_winged.jpg" width="377" /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Night Gaunts: </b><span style="color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><i>Shocking and uncouth black things with smooth, oily, whale-like surfaces, unpleasant horns that curved inward toward each other, bat wings whose beating made no sound, ugly prehensile paws, and barbed tails that lashed needlessly and disquietingly. All they ever did was clutch and fly and tickle; that was the way of night-gaunts. </i>~Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;">Out of what crypt they crawl, I cannot tell,</span><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;">But every night I see the rubbery things,</span><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;">Black, horned, and slender, with membraneous wings,</span><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><i>And tails that bear the bifid barb of hell. ~ </i>The Fungi of Yuggoth</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://goregirl.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/anthropophagus1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://goregirl.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/anthropophagus1.jpg" width="400" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Ghouls: </b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6776374822109966564" name="ghouls" style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>It was a colossal and nameless blasphemy with glaring red eyes, and it held in bony claws a thing that had been a man, gnawing at the head as a child nibbles at a stick of candy. Its position was a kind of crouch, and as one looked one felt that at any moment it might drop its present prey and seek a juicier morsel. But damn it all, it wasn’t even the fiendish subject that made it such an immortal fountain-head of all panic—not that, nor the dog face with its pointed ears, bloodshot eyes, flat nose, and drooling lips. It wasn’t the scaly claws nor the mould-caked body nor the half-hooved feet—none of these, though any one of them might well have driven an excitable man to madness. ~ </i>Pickman's Model</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFzvAE_Zozq2Y3AAARhTCVX_4MpRqu7W1XbtFjFC5MPY3LupP9VRbP8JlXOYQ1r-KXrHSn0C7wm5oINQTXL2RUhoz93wESR2cfLtzwmA4LJfhEwUJkQ8HK20Jmy4_rSCNQ0t0qcKMcZmx/s1600/crawfish-07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFzvAE_Zozq2Y3AAARhTCVX_4MpRqu7W1XbtFjFC5MPY3LupP9VRbP8JlXOYQ1r-KXrHSn0C7wm5oINQTXL2RUhoz93wESR2cfLtzwmA4LJfhEwUJkQ8HK20Jmy4_rSCNQ0t0qcKMcZmx/s320/crawfish-07.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: bold;">Mi-Go:<i> </i></b><i>They were pinkish things about five feet long; with crustaceous bodies bearing vast pairs of dorsal fins or membraneous wings and several sets of articulated limbs, and with a sort of convoluted ellipsoid, covered with multitudes of very short antennae, where a head would ordinarily be. ~ The Whisperer in Darknes</i>s</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Settings:</span></b><br />
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Coal Mine, Distillery, Trailer Park, Meat Packing Plant, Cabin in the Woods</span><br />
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<a href="https://redriverpak.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/1moonshiner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Source Material: </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Movies: </span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Deliverance</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Two Thousand Maniacs</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Winter's Bone</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the Heat of the Night</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lawless</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mississippi Burning</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Books:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">North 40</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Off Season" and "Offspring", by Jack Ketchum</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Music:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Dillards</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">John Prine</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sons of Perdition</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Merle Haggard</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Those Poor Bastards</span></li>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-85623771483838838172013-11-17T16:26:00.004-06:002013-11-20T08:58:01.315-06:00Tayxis: Hell's Honky-Tonk<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://horrorhomework.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/tumblr_ku7l4c2Bxi1qa7yfto1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://horrorhomework.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/tumblr_ku7l4c2Bxi1qa7yfto1_400.jpg" height="292" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not this one</td></tr>
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<b>Note: many of the pictures included in this post have been taken from the excellent blog, <a href="http://cityofdust.blogspot.com/">City of Dust</a>. It's awesome, and you should check it out.</b><br />
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<i>Ages ago, there was a town. Nobody remembers the name of the town anymore, but one thing is certain - it was a Gawd-fearing town. Every Sunday morning, every single inhabitant would gather together in a small church downtown and sing their praises to Gawd. </i><br />
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<i>It was a happy town.</i><br />
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<i>Then oil was discovered in the area, and outsiders began to show up. Offers were made to the landowners to buy the rights to the oil beneath their land, but the people of the town were happy with things as they were, content with their land and neighbors and faith.</i><br />
<a href="http://www.cityofdust.com/blogspot/Mission/019_16_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><i><img border="0" src="http://www.cityofdust.com/blogspot/Mission/019_16_resized.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></i></a><i><br /></i><br />
<i>Evil men were not content with these answers, and one Sunday, with the entire population packed into their little church, a fire broke out, and the building burned to the ground, killing all within. As he burned, the pastor cursed the town, promising that none would ever profit from their deaths.</i><br />
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<i>It didn't take long for the Big Oil Men to move in, and they rebuilt the downtown area that had been damaged by the fire. Rough men came to the town to begin drilling. On the site of the church, a bar was built, to entertain the men on their off hours. Whores were trucked in, and a brothel set up on the second floor. A neon sign was planted at the top of the building, a hot pink stake through the heart of the town. </i><br />
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<i>The oil field continued to expand, as did the town, and the bar got bigger, swallowing up surrounding buildings and adding their square footage to its own. Word got around, and some of the greatest country-western and blues acts began to appear at the bar. </i><br />
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<a href="http://www.cityofdust.com/blogspot/Mission/010_7_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><i><img border="0" src="http://www.cityofdust.com/blogspot/Mission/010_7_resized.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></i></a><i>Less than a year after the church burned, there came a fateful Saturday evening. The bar was packed, the </i><br />
<i>bordello was sold out with reservations for hours. One of the great forgotten Tayxin Outlaw Singers held the stage, and it was midway through his second set that the fire started. Nobody knows for sure how many people were inside that bar, but stories range from hundreds to thousands. Supposedly the doors had been built to swing inwards, and when the panic struck, the bodies pressed against the doors, sealing the crowd inside, where they burned alive. The fire spread, and somehow got into the oil below the town, and for days, the entire area was a singular inferno.</i><br />
<i><br />When the fires finally died down, every living thing within a mile of the town was dead. An acrid black smoke hung above the ruins, and only a single building remained - the church that became a bar. No matter what they offered, Big Oil Men were unable to find anyone to go back to the town to work the oil fields, and the town was deserted.</i><br />
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<i>The twin tragedies attracted the notice of the demonic Powers, and now, those who practice evilconverge upon this scar upon the face of Tayxis to relax, drink a cold beer and listen to the best damned music ever.</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.cityofdust.com/blogspot/Mission/008_5_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.cityofdust.com/blogspot/Mission/008_5_resized.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>By day, the bar juts out of the center of a vast swath of pitch black, burnt earth. If seen by the light of day, it appears to be the ruins of an old church. Debris is scattered throughout the building, and if anything is disturbed without care, there is a 1 in 10 chance that a part of the ceiling will collapse, doing 1d6 points of damage to anyone who fails a Dexterity check.<br />
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When the sun goes down, the building undergoes a horrific transformation. Flames erupt from the foundation, burning away the illusion of the church, and revealing the demonic reality - pitch black walls, with bright orange veins running throughout. The building stabs the sky, seeming to loom above any who stand before it. Windows on the above ground floors are thrown open, and the screams of the damned erupt outwards as succubi lean outwards, flaunting their wares.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In order to gain entrance, they must get past Gressil, the bouncer. Gressil is a lout - he looks intimidating, but is too lazy to be a real threat, unless someone directly challenges him. Massively overweight, he leans heavily on a giant club and by and large, he will simply pass along anyone who approaches. If roused to combat, however, he can be a formidable foe.</span><br />
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<b>Geryon</b> <b>(Demon)</b>: <span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">AC 2; MV 6; HP 55; Dmg 1d12 (Giant Club); Str 16 Con 12 Dex 8 Int 8 Wis 6 Cha 8; Alignment Neutral Evil; THAC0 11; <i>Earthshaker: </i>Geryon brings his club down on the ground, and everyone within 10' must make a Dexterity check or fall to the ground and spend a full round regaining their feet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">Once inside the walls, there is only one rule - no killing allowed. Of course, there is also the corollary to that rule - if you do kill, don't get caught. Bouncer demons wander the saloon to ensure that no-one - demonic, human or otherwise - is molested during their stay. They can't be everywhere, though, and any violence that erupts will continue for 1d4 rounds before they arrive to break it up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Bouncers (Demons)</b>: No. Appearing: 2d4; <span style="line-height: 18px;">AC 5; MV 12; HP 22; Dmg 1d6 (Sap); Str 16 Con 14 Dex 12 Int 18 Wis 8 Cha 3; Alignment Lawful Evil; THAC0 14; </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">Upon entering, visitors find themselves in a large vestibule with a door on the right and the left, with a sweeping staircase leading up. To the right lies the </span><b style="line-height: 18px;">Watering Hole</b><span style="line-height: 18px;">, to the left the </span><b style="line-height: 18px;">Main Stage, </b><span style="line-height: 18px;">and up to the </span><b style="line-height: 18px;">Bordello</b><span style="line-height: 18px;">. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2353/2270732402_0603f7e006_m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2353/2270732402_0603f7e006_m.jpg" height="166" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>The Watering Hole</b> - Saloon doors are all that bars you from a night of drunken debauchery at the best Diabolic </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dive you'll ever find. Stepping into the bar is
like diving into a whirlpool. Bodies press against bodies, the noise is
deafening, and it reeks of sweat, vomit, stale beer and brimstone. For
every turn spent in the Watering Hole, there is a cumulative 5% chance
of a fight breaking out within the characters' general vicinity. This
chance resets once the fight occurs.</span> </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Generic Bar Patron</b>: No. Appearing: 2d4 <span style="line-height: 18px;">AC 6; MV 12; HP 12; Dmg 1d4; Str 11 Con 11 Dex 11 Int 11 Wis 11 Cha 11; Alignment Neutral Evil; THAC0 18; </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">Once inside, the characters learn that this truly is the Bar From Hell: there are never any tables available, and while you see wait staff moving through the crowd, they never acknowledge the characters, nor can the the characters tell who they are serving. Access to the bar is impossible due to the crowd pressing up against its length. However, a successful Strength check will allow them to muscle their way through the crowd. Even if they make it, however, they will find themselves ignored by the bartender without a successful Charisma check. Nothing but the strongest spirits and beer are sold, and a Constitution check must be passed after each drink to avoid vomiting. Anyone who fails three checks passes out, and awakes the next morning with a horrific hangover (-2 to all attributes for 24 hours)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">Incidentally, this would be an excellent place to make use of <a href="http://jrients.blogspot.com/2008/12/party-like-its-999.html">Jeff Rients' Carousing Rules</a>.</span><br />
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</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1mHjymtUQ2ihmpwi1M-uYDkL42KF188X_c_RLIUjy0fVAtp0X8TrDQjozgC1SkNOMCBaOyFCx2EFRsUuRHQzOO8pEUF3lp59CrEm_uoV7DOWoGTpip_1vP83G99HQWUc3erkM_66jDTK/s1600/brothel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1mHjymtUQ2ihmpwi1M-uYDkL42KF188X_c_RLIUjy0fVAtp0X8TrDQjozgC1SkNOMCBaOyFCx2EFRsUuRHQzOO8pEUF3lp59CrEm_uoV7DOWoGTpip_1vP83G99HQWUc3erkM_66jDTK/s1600/brothel.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 18px;">The Bordello: </b><span style="line-height: 18px;">Upon rounding flight of stairs, they find themselves in a waiting room. Lush furniture, overstuffed and luridly colored, packs every inch of the room. The walls are painted a shocking red that seems to undulate if someone stares too long at them, and everything seems to be encrusted with precious metals and gems. </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">Gaudy would be one word for it, ostentatious would be another. </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">Upon the couches, love seats and chaise lounges lie consorts of every type imaginable. Every perversion imaginable is not only catered to, but encouraged. Once a consort is arranged, a room is selected, and the "fun" begins. Any talk of payment is waived off as something to be "discussed later". </span></span><br />
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<b>Courtesans (Demonic)</b>: No. Appearing: 2d4; <span style="line-height: 18px;">AC 9; MV 12; HP 6; Dmg 1d4 (Dagger), <i>Sleep</i>; Str 8 Con 8 Dex 14 Int 11 Wis 8 Cha 16; Alignment Neutral; THAC0 18; <i>Sleep: </i>These demonic concubines can cause their victims to enter a magical sleep from which they will not awaken for 1d4 rounds if the victim does not pass a Wisdom check at a -2 penalty. During the period of unconsciousness, the Courtesan feeds on the victim, draining them of their vital fluids. For each round uncounscious, the Courtesan will drain 1d3 hit points, which will be added to their own total. This can exceed their maximum hit points as listed above. In addition, those who succumb awaken from their slumber with only the vaguest memories of a night of intense pleasure, but a</span><span style="line-height: 18px;"> Constitution check will be required to avoid contracting a wasting disease. This disease drains the character of 1 point of Strength, Dexterity and Constitution per week until one hits zero, at which point the character dies. Further, any who succumbs to the Sleep spell suffers a -1 penalty to subsequent exposures. This penalty is cumulative.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">The Bordello is managed by a demon known as Lillith. Whether she is the actual Lillith or just a pretender is unknown, and the heads of those who have inquired are rumored to adorn the walls of her office. Appearing as a middle aged woman of exceptional physical qualities, she wears conservative clothing that still manage to hide very little. She avoids combat whenever possible, preferring to converse and seduce. If a fight breaks out in the Bordello, she will be aware within 1d6 rounds, at which point she will summon the bouncers, as above.</span></span><br />
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<b>Lillith</b> <b>(Demon)</b>: <span style="line-height: 18px;">AC 2; MV 6; HP 55; Dmg 1d4 (Giant Club), Special; Str 11 Con 12 Dex 16 Int 14 Wis 11 Cha 18; Alignment Neutral Evil; THAC0 14; </span><i style="line-height: 18px;">Poisoned nails: </i><span style="line-height: 18px;">Lillith strikes with her nails, attempting to scratch the face of any who attack her. Any thus struck must pass a Constitution check at a -2 or be wracked with debilitating pain, taking an additional 1d6 points of damage per round for the next 3d4 rounds. </span><i style="line-height: 18px;">Charm Person: </i><span style="line-height: 18px;">Lillith can attempt to charm one person every 10 rounds, simply by making eye contact. A successful Wisdom check will prevent the charm. </span></span><br />
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</span><a href="http://www.stadtmagazin.com/uploads/photos/large/1cabc0ad7df917c5c05c7b833a72c366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="http://www.stadtmagazin.com/uploads/photos/large/1cabc0ad7df917c5c05c7b833a72c366.jpg" height="209" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"><b>The Main Stage: </b>Imagine Janis Joplin singing a duet with Buddy Holly. Johnny Winter strumming while Townes Van Zandt sings the blues. Stevie Ray Vaughan and Lightnin' Hopkins trading licks. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">That's a Monday night at the Main Stage. </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">Impossible though it may seem, the Main Stage is even more crowded than the Watering Hole. There are seats, but they are stood upon rather than sat in. As a result, there's no such thing as a good place to see. No matter where the characters stand, something obstructs their view. The sound is always too loud and the crowd is always rowdy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">Rules from the Watering Hole apply here as well, but fights are twice as likely to break out, and the bouncers take twice as long to break it up. Further, there is a 10% chance that a passing crowd surfer will kick a character in the head, which can be checked at the GM's discretion. Attempting to go to any place in particular requires a Strength for every 5'. Any failure means they are pushed 10' in another direction (roll 1d12 and assume the result corresponds to the number on a clock, and use that as the direction. If the direction rolled is the direction intended, reroll). </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">While there is a small bar located inside the venue, no amount of pushing, pleading or cajoling will get the characters anywhere near the bartender.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">Anyone looking can see a balcony which appears to be empty, but no amount of searching can reveal a way to get there. In the center of the music hall stands the sound booth, where the owner of the entire establishment can typically be found - Amdusias. He has the body of a man, the claws of a lion and the head of a unicorn. He carries a trumpet with him at all times, and sometimes jumps up on stage to perform an impromptu accompaniment.</span><span style="line-height: 18px;"> If confronted by characters, he will be pleasant and conversational, remarking upon the outstanding talent of whoever happens to be playing that night. </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">He will defend himself if attacked, but given the choice, he'd rather sit back and watch the show.</span></span><br />
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<b>Amdusias</b> <b>(Demon)</b>: <span style="line-height: 18px;">AC 2; MV 12; HP 55; Dmg 1d6/1d6 (Claws), 1d8 (Horn), Special; Str 14 Con 10 Dex 13 Int 11 Wis 10 Cha 16; Alignment Neutral Evil; THAC0 12; <i>Trumpet: </i>Amdusius can blow his trumpet once every 10 rounds, with explosive force. Any caught within the 10' cone are knocked off their feet unless they pass a Constitution check at -2. The next round will be spent incapacitated, and a second round will be required to regain their feet. This will also affect others at the concert, who will turn on the characters upon regaining their feet. <i>Call - </i></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">Amdusias can mentally call the bouncers, and will do so immediately upon being attacked.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Generic Concert-Goer</b>: No. Appearing: 2d4 <span style="line-height: 18px;">AC 6; MV 12; HP 12; Dmg 1d4; Str 11 Con 11 Dex 11 Int 11 Wis 11 Cha 11; Alignment Neutral Evil; THAC0 18; </span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-44746215742772492422013-11-15T15:48:00.000-06:002013-11-17T14:48:12.478-06:00Tayxis Encounter: The Devil's Herd<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfgxsi65iWy69oIbr7EcRl2vaBPI2Q7sKCXQkTaHZA70qY01GUTFGh5UitrSusjpSaRW3H69U0XxbST6IINixVdOmY2mWk4upkHdcTQT65miCT8DxQB8HI72eZcQ3K1qd24PhKhP4NXjck/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfgxsi65iWy69oIbr7EcRl2vaBPI2Q7sKCXQkTaHZA70qY01GUTFGh5UitrSusjpSaRW3H69U0XxbST6IINixVdOmY2mWk4upkHdcTQT65miCT8DxQB8HI72eZcQ3K1qd24PhKhP4NXjck/s320/download.jpg" height="222" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Segoe UI, Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i>Their faces gaunt, their eyes was blurred, their shirts was soaked with sweat </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Segoe UI, Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i>They're ridin' hard to catch that herd, but they ain't caught 'em yet </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Segoe UI, Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i>'Cause they've got to ride forever on that range up in the sky </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Segoe UI, Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i>On horses snorting fire </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Segoe UI, Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i>As they ride on hear their cry </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Segoe UI, Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Segoe UI, Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i> ~Lyrics by Stan Jones</i></span></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="font-family: Segoe UI, Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">This is an encounter that takes place out on the Prairies and Plains of Tayxis, always at night. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">The night air is cool and crisp, and the winds make starting a campfire difficult, but not impossible. As you settle in for your evening meal, you hear the sounds of spurred footsteps approaching from the darkness. A the weathered form of a cowboy slowly takes shape in the flickering firelight, his hand resting on his holstered pistol. </span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Easy there, pardners, easy - jest lookin' to rest ma boots fer a minute", he drawls, edging forward, his hand still on his pistol.</span></i></span><br />
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Should the party attack, he will defend himself and back away, disappearing after 3 rounds, ending the encounter.<br />
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<b>Jim Murphy (Undead): </b><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">AC 5; MV 14; HP 22; Dmg 1d6; Str 11 Con 14 Dex 18 Int 12 Wis 6 Cha 10; Alignment Neutral Evil; THAC0 14; <i>Fast Draw - </i>Jim Murphy automatically wins initiative when firing his pistol, and fires a second time when a 19-20 is rolled.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Description: </b>A member of Sam Bass' gang, he betrayed the group after the Governor put a bounty on their heads. When surviving members of the gang threatened to "</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">kill him, cut off his head and carry it away in a gunny sack", he fled to the local jail for protection, where he eventually killed himself. Damned for his betrayal and suicide, he is now condemned to chase the Devil's Herd.</span><br />
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Should the party allow him to sit, they notice that his flesh is transparent at first, but seems to get firmer as he warms up. He spins a tale, telling his story from a more sympathetic perspective - he was persecuted by a group of people he chose not to work with any longer, was hounded from one end of Tayxis to the other, until he was given a choice between horrible death or painless suicide. Ever since his death, he, along with other damned souls, have been forced to chase the Devil's Herd. While he is short on details, the upshot of his story is that he's managed to slip away from the chase for a bit, but it won't be long before someone comes looking for him. <br />
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Of course, he neglects to mention that that "someone" is Forcas, Master of Saytin's Stables. Murphy's plan is to convince the group to help him capture one of the Devil's Cattle, and trade it back to Forcas in exchange for release from his torment. While the cattle can not be caught by the damned, he reasons that the living might stand a chance.<br />
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Murphy is familiar with the path that the Herd takes, and hopes to set an ambush, with the characters' assistance, and suggests that the Guadalupe Pass might be a perfect place for an ambush. Not far from El Paso al Inferno, it's a narrow stretch of road between two peaks in the Guadalupe Mountains. The Herd passes through this Pass between 2 and 2:15 in the morning every third day. <br />
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This information relayed, he begs the characters for assistance one last time before looking fearfully over his shoulder and saying that he has to go, that they will find him soon. He will answer one final question, and then leaves. <br />
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Shortly thereafter, a mountain man carrying a spear and riding a nag approaches the party, asking about a runaway fugitive. A Preacher, Ranger, or other character able to sense evil will immediately realize that this man is no man at all, but a demon. He will not attack the party, as he is more concerned with retrieving his wayward soul. However, if attacked, he will defend himself, and use Invisibility as a last resort if the tide turns against him.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blacmagia.narod.ru/learn/kabinet/056/34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.blacmagia.narod.ru/learn/kabinet/056/34.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Forcas (Demon): </b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">AC:-2 <span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">MV 24; HP 55; Dmg 1d8/1d8 (spear); Special; Str 18 Con 18 Dex 6 Int 16 Wis 10 Cha 6; Alignment Lawful Evil; THAC0 8; </span></span><i style="font-size: small; line-height: 18px;">Invisibility: </i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Forcas can become Invisible for 4d4 rounds, once per day. </span></span><i style="font-size: small; line-height: 18px;">Demonic Steed: </i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Forcas' steed is of a demonic origin, and will attack at the command of its master. Every third round, the Steed will rear up and strike with its hooves any within reach. These should be treated as two "bonus" attacks for Forcas, using his THAC0, and doing the same damage as his spear. <b>Description: </b>A squat blunt-faced man with a tremendous beard, he rides a withered nag and carries a vicious barbed spear. He is the master of Saytin's Stables, and takes pride in keeping the horses and cattle in the finest shape possible. A coward and a bully at heart, Forcas will only prey upon those weaker than himself. If the battle turns against him, he will invoke his Invisibility and attempt to escape.</span></span></span></td></tr>
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<b>Guadalupe Pass: </b>Located just south of the Guadalupe Mountain Range, this pass is a twisting path with <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3GlOQW7B11UgXMU-AwA2u-m0_diq2v8QfInKWWYJ6LYyTc0iqcSVER0shV73eqxggPNT8sZxDtspPZfmBD-r3L02mzwA2wgBBHXnidgwGkswRJd1mk4p51R-UaryAoYIdOtkdB1asGK_/s1600/ambush.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3GlOQW7B11UgXMU-AwA2u-m0_diq2v8QfInKWWYJ6LYyTc0iqcSVER0shV73eqxggPNT8sZxDtspPZfmBD-r3L02mzwA2wgBBHXnidgwGkswRJd1mk4p51R-UaryAoYIdOtkdB1asGK_/s320/ambush.bmp" height="232" width="320" /></a>low visibility and high winds. Anyone who fails an attack by more than 10 must make a Dexterity check or lose their balance. <br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">At 2:15am every third day, the Herd rounds the bend and comes through the Guadalupe Pass, crosses the Guadalupe River, and makes the next turn by 2:30. The eastern walls of the mountains that lie against the River are high and blind, and cannot be seen until after the Herd has passed into the river valley. The party has a small window of opportunity to grab a single Head of Cattle as they pass. Someone experienced wtih a lasso can rope a steer and divert them from the herd without Forcas, who rides at the front, noticing. Even if a member of the Damned see, they will not say anything, and Jim Murphy will offer the party a wink and a tip of the hat as he passes. If they fail at the attempt, the Herd continues on, and the characters must fight Forcas and the Damned. If they survive the battle, however, the Herd will return in 3 days time, and allow them another shot at it. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2056/2313071429_827baecc05_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2056/2313071429_827baecc05_z.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>The Devil's Herd: </b>No. Appearing: 2d12 </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">AC: 6 </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">MV 24; HP 20; Dmg 1d8 (charge) 1d6x2 (hooves); Special; Str 16 Con 16 Dex 13 Int 6 Wis 6 Cha 6; Alignment Neutral Evil; THAC0 14; <i>Trample - </i>Anyone struck by the Charge must make a Dexterity check or be knocked from their feet. They are automatically struck by both hoof attacks from the Cattle that knocked them over, and must make Dexterity checks for each head of Cattle that has not yet gone that round, or suffer twin hoof strikes from them as well. Note that the soul of anyone killed by the Devil's Herd is pressed into service by Forcas, and must spend the rest of eternity chasing them. <b>Description: </b>These unholy cattle are the pride of Saytin's Stables, Forcas takes runs them on a drive every third day to keep them lean and mean. Their time in the Pits has given the a vicious streak, and they have come to relish goring unfortunate passers-by with their steel-tipped horns. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>The Damned: </b>No. Appearing: 1d6 AC 4 MV 16; HP 22; Dmg 1d6; Str 11 Con 14 Dex 15 Int 11 Wis 7 Cha 3; Alignment Neutral Evil; THAC0 12. <b>Description: </b>The spirits of the damned, hand picked by Forcas himself to aid in driving the Devil's Herd. Only the meanest, foulest of souls are considered. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Aftermath: </b>Should the party succesfully steal the bull, the next night that they make camp, the sound of chains and hoofbeats will wake them from their slumber. Jim Murphy's ghostly body is tossed into the campfire, looking surprisingly alive. The party hears Forcas' voice growl from the shadows, demanding the return of the Bull, and revealing that the camp is surrounded by his Damned Souls. He promises to leave the party unscathed, should they surrender the Bull, and is telling the truth. Should the party attack and drive away the force, they can keep the bull and sell it for 10,000 Dolars. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Either way, Jim Murphy has been freed, and his form assumes corporeality. He will offer his services to the party in return for his freedom. Should the party be foolis enough to take him up on this, he will betray them at the first opportunity, take everything they own, sell it, and attempt to start a new life somewhere.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">After all, once a traitor...</span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776374822109966564.post-43407403244785056872013-11-13T09:34:00.000-06:002013-11-13T09:34:06.387-06:00Tayxis: Cadáver de Christo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQkYYmTLaQP0-B5H_7C_4rekKnIYY8sgRZS-hSg-b2mZfn9ywpYXy7c1-C9JJFENTOF07XzppvZnAOlJj0xNUB1r1up3Xka6CstPpTQLCzUemQeFjf1lnMqtRO-sJPeNBRFIxun94lDce/s1600/Mind-Blowing-Paintings-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQkYYmTLaQP0-B5H_7C_4rekKnIYY8sgRZS-hSg-b2mZfn9ywpYXy7c1-C9JJFENTOF07XzppvZnAOlJj0xNUB1r1up3Xka6CstPpTQLCzUemQeFjf1lnMqtRO-sJPeNBRFIxun94lDce/s1600/Mind-Blowing-Paintings-02.jpg" height="250" width="400" /></a></div>
Long ago, along a deserted stretch of the Endless Sea, a fisherman watched a body wash ashore. This body was special. Although it was quite dead, it showed no signs of rot, nor was it bloated, as most bodies swept ashore were. The body was possessed of a great beauty, and even as it gently came to rest on the white sandy beach, the fisherman was struck by the gently pursed lips, the cheeks which still held a flush, even in death. Most of all, he was struck by the delicate features which loomed above him, for this body was that of a giant. <br />
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Time has passed, but the corpse of the Nephilim still sits on the beach of southwest Tayxis. Much of the body has sunk into the sand, but the head still juts above, and life has taken root upon the remains. Even though the spirit has left the body of the Nephilim, the flesh remains, and has provided for those that have made it their home. Over the years, Cadáver de Christo has developed into a marvel of the endurance of life - initially a squatter's heaven, a true city has built up on and around the Nephilim's skull. First named Christo as an affectionate nickname for the corpse itself, the city has since taken the name for its own. <br />
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With the unfortunate, however, comes those willing to exploit them, and it didn't take long for Cadáver to be added to the name. Nowadays, Cadáver de Christo is a slum. Most houses were initially built from shoddy materials, and the body of the Nephilim is slowly sinking into the earth, occasionally taking homes and people with it. Conservative estimates suggest that the body will be completely lost within 20 years.<br />
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In the meantime, however, there is a nigh infinite supply of food, as the body does not rot, and regenerates any damage done to it. Thus, the economy of the slum-town is based around the harvesting of the Nephilim's flesh, which is exported all around Tayxis.<br />
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<b>Pro Tip: if eating Nephilim flesh makes you uncomfortable, don't order the brisket. Ever.</b><br />
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While there are several legitimate companies which operate in Cadáver de Christo, there are also rumors that the Cartel has secured access to the interior of the body, and is extracting tissue samples from various internal organs using drug-enslaved press gangs to do the heavy lifting.<br />
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Life for the workers in the "legitimate" factories are little better. With no oversight or regulation, worker fatalities are high, and more than one has been mixed into the "brisket".<br />
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<b>Pro-er Tip: Even if you're cool with eating Nephilim flesh, if eating human flesh disturbs you, don't order the brisket. Ever. </b><br />
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Visitors to Cadáver de Christo are struck first by the fact that the city is largely crooked. As the body has sank, the houses that were initially upright have begun to lean backwards, and are mostly held up by large planks and logs, shipped in by the factory owners from the Piney Woods. Gangs of children mob any who appear to have two coins to rub together, and adults are almost invariably dirty and exhausted from the struggle of day-to-day life. The wealthy build extensions on their houses relative to the shifting of the body, so many have taken on a curved shape as they struggle to remain upright. <br />
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Some believe that the wealthy of Cadáver de Christo have exploited the poor for too long. Recently, there <br />
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has been a spate of acts of sabotage, vandalism and some might even say terrorism, led by an organization calling itself <i>Libertad</i>. They are known by their luchador masks, although whether they are actually members of the popular Liga de los Luchadores Libres is, at present, unknown.<br />
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Only two things can be said definitively about the group - they use the poster pictured here to announce actions they perpetrate, or at least approve, of, and they are led by a masked man who goes by the name of El Santo. <br />
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Recent acts of disobedience included rerouting a waste pipe from one of the meat packing plants to the home of its owner, organizing a strike at another plant, and calling for a "Day of Disobedience", where workers would all stay home. <br />
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While the movement is still small, it is gaining support.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08116201484230607793noreply@blogger.com4