Work related posts have been moved.

9 November, 2010

My work and computing related posts are now at

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Voices in the dark

23 May, 2015

There is little to tell about the actual heist. The main exhibit hall was trapped and fitted with alarms, of course. Antimagic effects that lasted for about three rounds, and then the guards arrived. Walls dropped into place, but the party had had the foresight to bring their escape route right up close to the exhibits. Dimfuzz and Picklick went on a lock-picking and trap finding spree, except for the one trap that William managed to trip.

It’s a bit of a shame that on the night Picklick’s real-world alter ego was not present owing to a bit of an emergency, as this scenario was kinda meant for his character to be the main actor. Lots of traps, lots of interesting effects. The antimagic meant that people who don’t rely so much on magic got a chance to step forward.

Sorry, man – we played it out without you there.

During the brief interval of antimagic, John’s companion was revealed – a tiny dragon, no doubt some sort of servitor of Azathoth.

John is in thrall to a usually-invisible fairy dragon, whose hallucinogenic breath weapon … explains a great deal.

There were guards, there were Stinking Clouds (Brus was out of action for a whole 18 seconds, which is a long time in D&D), they lifted the anchor, the tiebreaker, and a thing or two else besides. Dimfuzz turned out to be as treacherous as you would expect a gnome thief to be, but in the end all was forgiven – although not forgotten.

The group killed most of the guards before escaping though the door, leaving a lone museum employee to explain the mess to his superiors.

And the whispers in Brus’ mind began to resolve themselves into words.

F̜̤̰͚̼t̶͍̰̟̠̫͈̱;͖̜̫̪̬nͅ’́ ͚̭͎̬n̪̯̳̮͙͍y̙͡a̖͉̲̣̫r͈̩ĺ̺̳͈ ̼̦͟h͈̳e͖p͏̖̘͎͚̦-̢̳̜̯̠̖͓i̛̺͖ͅm̘h̪o͘t͓̞̙̫̣͓̣h̬̯̘̻̻͟e̥̼̩̳̳p̶,̳̫̮̩͟ n̟̪͈͈̯̮̲g̶̭͔̭ͅl͙͕̺̤̀u͇̘̼̖i͓̭̖ ͞R̰̘̭a̪̹͖̖̼͇y͟l̛̘͔n̠̲̙̬̼͍ģ͍̣̻̗͔͎̼ ̞̘͈̰̠̪͇p̴̮̝̲̻̬͎t̺̭͈̟’̢͍̞̤t̲̬̟h͇̟̥̲a̘͖͢r̶̹̖͓̳͚̘̥ḻ̶͕̣͉̗̦̲t̖̝͡op̟̪̞̺h̶̯̗t̞̝̻͎̙g̰̮̬̲̘̟̳eṇ̠͍̭!̝͇̞͢

Oh, he could call. And the powers beyond the veil of illusionary safety would answer. There was always a price, of course, but Brus had faith.

Ping! I took “Dark Tapestry” as a language. It’s not on the list, but I image Brett will OK it. And “Divine Intervention” as a feat – immediate action to sacrifice a spell and make an opponent re-roll an attack. Brus doesn’t use a lot of spells – he’s usually too busy hitting things – so I look for anything that’s doable as a swift or immediate action. One-round-per-level buffs are just not his bag.

I’ll be using it mainly on enemy crit confirmation rolls (which are attack rolls), or if anyone gets through the line and goes for our squishies.

For 4th level spells, Freedom of Movement would be thematic and useful, but meh – I’d rather try out some new spells I have never used before. So I grabbed “Judgement Light”, which has a variety of handy effects including a burst Farie Fire which, I’ll tell you now, is totally worth a 4th-level slot. I have selected restoration as my other one but … meh – not really Brus’ thing. I think I’ll change it before game.

Curse of Magic Negation
Will save. Too risky.
Divination
fun, but not worth it for a spontaneous caster. More John’s thing.
Leashed shackles
Reflex save.
Litany of Sight
WTF? Fourth level? When I pack See Invis anyway?
Find Quarry
Hmm. A possibility, seeing as we often need to chase specific people. It has no game effect, because lets face it in the metagame we are certainly going to find who we are chasing.
Divine Power
One round per level. Feh.
Hold Monster
Will save, but very handy for big & dumb. We need something that will bring down a dragon, but they have a good will so this spell will probs fail.
Dismissal
Unfortunately, it is usually we who are the outsiders.
Greater Invis
Very handy, but I have used it before, and I only get 1 4th level spell a day.
Shadow Barbs
Not as good as it seems if you can’t apply Inquisitor Bane (etc) to spell effects.
Stoneskin
probably his best pick, mechanically. But again: I want something new and different.

I’ll think about it. I’ll probably sacrifice the best cheese and go with Find Quarry, which is thematic.


The Tiebreaker, first and greatest

16 May, 2015

(As always, I use other people’s characters and scenarios and make stuff up without permission, and my character gets more air time than is fair. Soz, but I can’t help that :) )
(Oh, had to modify things a bit when I found out more about the MacGuffin. So there are bits that are a trifle contrived. Meh. )

Morality can be a tricky, difficult, elusive thing to pin down, sometimes. Shades of grey, different points of view. Who’s right? Who’s wrong? Depends on who you ask, and often on who is doing the asking.

But sometimes, it isn’t so difficult. Sometimes there are people who are simply objectively evil. Not just tryannical; not just selfish and careless of what harm they do; but mad, destructive, a gibbering insanity type of evil.

Oh, but it was worth it. For Tiebreaker it was worth it. Anything was worth it. Dimfuzz kept telling himself so, anyway.

They had left a trail of destruction across the planes. Pointless killing. Mad and unpredictatable. Mere slaughter. But they were the pivot, the pin, the axis. And somehow, Coin owned them. Coin wanted to be free. Coin needed something. And Dimfuzz knew where it was – right next to the device, the Tiebreaker, the Puzzlesolver. And oh, oh, oh it was worth it, worth it, worth kingdoms, worth worlds, but the device was in the museum of Vinculum where the Elohim keep all their stolen treasures, the spoil of civilisations, and so he needed them, the mad ones, no-one else would possibly agree to loot the museum, no-one else was half as mad as they.

So careful, so cautious, he left clues for them, a trail of breadcrumbs. They ignored them, and came straight for him. He negotiated with them at the chasm. They wanted his keys. He would have given then anything, but he must negotiate, must dicker, must make a seeming of strength, of having options. But he had none, and the festival of Vinculum was tomorrow eve. All he had was a little knowledge – the anchor of the Planes was at the Museum of Vinculum, and Coin needed it. Tomorrow the Elohim would sleep, they would dream their dreams, and tomorrow eve – it did not bear thinking of. The things the Elohim would do. But for this one day, they would mostly be asleep, the museum as unguarded as it was ever going to be.

They came to an agreement. Agreements meant nothing to people like this. He joined them, he was among them. No illusions, few defenses, just himself alone and the mad ones, making camp for all the world as though it were just a thing. His heart quailed in terror. They made plans for the morrow. Nothing like a gnome conclave – just the barest outlines of a plan. “No point making a plan”, they said, “because it never works out and you just have to start killing people until you run out anyway”. Until you run out. In the heart of Vinculum – not one or two, not five or seven, but a city full of the Elohim. Dimfuzz noticed his vision growing dim at the edges, and realised that he had stopped breathing.

Yet he was still a gnome, and still had his curiosity.


Will was the odd man out, he and his donkey. He seemed a normal, rather likeable human. Surely – surely he must know, but the knowledge did not seem to bother him. Could anyone really be fool enough to suppose that they could travel with these and simply be collecting verses of a song?

Picklick was what he appeared to be. A nasty, surly, hobgoblin killer, whose main motivation seemed to be simply to have the opportunity to stab someone, preferably several someones, in the kidneys and then wiggle the knife about while they died. Comforting, in a way, that at least one of them was not pretending to be something they were not.

But this hobgoblin killer was not the worst of them.

They has a deep gnome with them. Dour, dark, and twisted. His motivation seemed to be like Picklick’s, but subtler. Not to kill, but to be better able to kill. That is: he cared for his craft. Of course, the only way to perfect that craft was to practise it. He claimed to have wrestled a dragon into submission, and the others simply nodded and shrugged. Yes, he did; and meh – no biggie.

But this deep gnome was not the worst of them.

The huge half orc, Brus, openly bore the sign of Yog-Sothoth. An outer god! The eater of souls! The lurker at the threshold! And this man worshipped him without a qualm. He got to talking. “So this Limen, we went to Tien and it turns out his name means portal! Don’t you get it?” His face grew angry, his eyes flat with fanaticism, “This jumped-up little demigod is calling himself The Door! It’s blasphemy, Dimfuzz, blasphemy is what it is! And I promise you, when I catch up with him I am personally going to kill him to death several times with this.”, he said, indicating his weapon: a massive sword on the end of an equally massive staff. “Unless I find something bigger in the meantime.” Dimfuzz quailed. “Aww, don’t you worry Dimfuzz. You’re all right, aren’t you! You’re trying to help us. Well, I’ll tell you this: no matter how bad things are, eventually all the earth will be destroyed and Yog-Sothoth will consume our souls. An then The First will reawaken and it will all be over. All we can hope for is to be eaten first, so that we don’t have to live through too much of the horror. Have you ever thought about making yourself more the kind of soul that The Key and The Gate would want to pick out of the line-up first?”

Gods! Was this half orc, was he trying to convert him? Trying to proselytise him? He was! He was spruiking the worship of his God with the simple earnestness of a devotee of Moroni. Dimfuzz grinned and nodded, his eyes wide with terror.

But this inquisitor of Yog-Sothoth was not the worst of them.

John. Such a simple, human name. But he was not human. His eyes moved … wrongly, his wrists and elbows just a tiny bit too flexible. He wore the unholy vestments of the blind idiot god Azahtoth. A mad cult, hounded to oblivion in any civilisation worthy of the name, and this – thing – wore a robe emblazoned with the symbol. He spoke to his God all the time, whispering, sometimes giggling. Out of the corner of his eye, Dimfuzz seemed to see John’s eyesockets replaced with fanged mouths gibbering and giggling, screeching obscenities, drooling promises, secrets and lies, but whenever he turned to look, John was always the same – seemingly a slightly distracted smiling human.

After their meal John stood and addressed himself to the group, pleasantly nodding to each, for all the world like a village priest delivering a homily.

Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?
I can see it in your eyes.
I can see it in your smile.
You’re all I ever wanted, my arms are open wide.
Tell me how to eat your heart, for I haven’t got a clue,
But let me start by saying
Hello

And the others bowed their heads and murmured “Cthulhu fhtagn”, he replying “Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn” and making some sort of sign. His lips smiled benevolently, but his eyes were vacant with madness.

Then he rested against a tree, his head cocked to the side, listening, his face lit with pure bliss, murmuring

I’ve been alone with you inside my mind

over and over and over for what seemed like an hour, until Dimfuzz wanted to run blindly into the forest, screaming.


The portal in Vinculum opened into someone’s home, a mere 200m away from the museum. The group had decided that, since portals were keyed to a doorway and not to a location, and since they would probably need to escape after lifting the items from the museum, the simplest thing would be to take the entire doorway with them into the museum. Buildings in Vinculum were made of stone, and so a Stone Shape would be the easiest way. Not the way a gnome would normally do things, but the mad ones were doing things their own way. Dimfuzz had built a small wheeled cradle to hold a corner of the one-tonne chunk of stone they would be taking with them.

And it worked perfectly. John used his spell to gouge the entire door frame out of the wall, while the elohim slept in their coffins, the whole effort muffled by a Silence spell. The Deep Gnome, the Half-Orc (equipped with the most serious Belt of Giant Strength Dimfuzz had ever seen) and the Donkey managed to wrestle the entire thing out into the deserted street without breaking it. They checked that their portal key still operated correctly, and it did.

As they walked briskly to the museum, the doorway wheeling along with them, they discussed how they might break in. They agreed that in the first instance John would claim that the door was itself an artifact to be housed in the museum, and if that failed they would start killing people. Dimfuzz giggled, some little corner of his mind horrified at himself for doing so: they had a Plan A, and a Plan B.

Vinculum was a closed pocket plane (a 3-d toroidal manifold with at least one half-twist) and the museum stretched all the way across it, forming a barrier that had to be tunnelled under. The entrance, although open, was heavily guarded and not an option. Instead they reasoned that there would be a goods dock in the tunnel beneath the museum. They came to a huge stone double door. Closed. The hobgoblin reported that it was barred from the inside. And so the mad ones decided that they would simply break it open under cover of a Silence spell. Here, in the heart of Vinculum, in complete silence they made a game of it, the deep gnome, the half orc and the donkey – punding at the door until with a silent snap and a visible shudder the bar gave way and they could swing the door open.

The interior of the Museum of Vinculum awaited.


Of course, there were stairs. And they were dragging about a ton of door. Brus suggested that they should leave it there, because even if it was at the bottom of the stairs it was still closer than it would otherwise have been when it came time to make their escape. The others pointed out that this was actually a very bad idea, and that he should get that doorframe up the stairs and stop complaining. While the same three again got the thing up the steps, Dimfuzz and Picklick scouted ahead, and John hummed quietly to himself. What he was humming, Dimfuzz didn’t want to know.

They eventually got the doorframe up to the main museum corridor. Dimfuzz said to go left, although in this space any direction is as good as any other. They walked and walked. There were doors all along the length of the corridor, but today they were all closed and locked. They encountered one of the guardians – a floating blob, a cross between a rabbit, a sperm, and a unicorn (Brett can’t draw for shit) – but Will enchanted it and sent it on its way. “This blag is going like clockwork”, said Brus, channelling a distant relative on the plane of Eberron. It couldn’t last.

They were accosted by two guards. Attacked – no need for bluffing or fast talking. Three of them attacked charged of them (Faugh scored three crits out of five attacks with his incredibly cheesy Brawler build), and Will put the other into a deep slumber, and thence the others put him into a deeper, more permanent one. The guards each had some sort of device on them, Picklick explaining that it was an odd type of key. Apparently used by “swiping” it through a corresponding lock.

They noticed that the ‘ceiling’ above them was the same as the floor they were on. Piclick climbed the wall, and at the halfway point dropped down onto the ceiling above them. They continued on like this, reasoning that they were covering twice the territory in the same amount of time. After a while further, they passed, on the ceiling above, the site of their previous battle.

Further along still, they came to a large archway. The main hall of treasures was just up ahead. The planar anchor and the puzzlesolver were just beyond.

TBC.


Oh yeah, I’ll tell you something
I think you’ll understand
When I’ll say that something
I wanna bite your hand
I wanna bite your hand
I wanna bite your hand

Oh please, say to me
You’ll let me be your man
And please, say to me
You’ll let me bite your hand
Oh let me bite your hand
I wanna bite your hand


James Mallard – A case of old tin

13 May, 2015

With Sir Leonard in tow, the party returned to the dilapidated Griffinshart estate. Within, Sir Leonard began to explain, “You know, I have had those notices up for months, and this is the first time anyone has responded.

Odd. James felt a momentary – presagement. Not the superstitious type, but powers beyond mortal were real, and sometimes acted in odd ways. Months of no responses, and suddenly a party of eight, each arriving in their own separate ways.

James could hear old Pirate Pete and Elsbeth mucking about in the kitchen, trying to make tea, attempting and failing to get a spark out of his tinderbox. He briefly absented himself to light the stove with a cantrip.

(James has the “Cantrip Mastery” talent. Minor out-of-combat magical effects are quick actions for him, and he can attempt to do a cantrip version of any spell he has memorised. I don’t know that the “spark” spell is explicitly in the books – but it certainly should be. It’s just a basic thing. 13th age is very make it up as you go. “Light a fire” – very limited, of course – just seemed to be the sort of thing that a wizard with Cantrip Mastery should be able to casually do. No biggie.)

Back in the main room, Sir Leonard was working his way through the group, taking the measure of each, asking “So, why did you want to become a hero?” Some cited a thirst for justice, or gold, or fame. James’ answer was simply that his orders were to be here, and he desired to honour his family and The Emperor. All true enough.

His mind wandered back to the tedious but necessary lessons in military history. Sir Griffinshart and the battle of Salty Mire. The orc armies were bringing their mammoths down the behemoth migration route. Sir Griffinshart had broken their formation with a daring flank attack, circling around to the rear. In class they had studied maps, logistical charts. Three knights won their spurs that day as part of his sortie. Hard to believe, now, looking at this drunk and the dump he lived in.

Then James saw it. The medal case. Stars, scrolls, winged dragons – brass, silver and gold. Some few set with gems. Most of them empire decorations and familiar to him from tediously memorising orders of precedence, proof of a long, distinguished career. And some not so familiar. That one, with the strange flowing inscription, could that be the very one that Sir Leonard had won from the Elf Queen herself for liberating Whitevalley Grove? That iron one – with the dwarf runes: could that be one of the medals that the Dwarf King struck for the heroes of the doomwar? A nasty war for a human to be part of, fought in the lightless underground. They say that the King only struck fifty medals, from the iron of one of the coffins of the Lich King, and broke the die. All but four were awarded to dwarves, most posthumously.

Sir Leonard was rambling, now about his son. No details, but there was something there. A resolve began to form in James. “We will redeem this man. Somehow.”


Action at Jemson’s Creek bridge

(I don’t think James will mention the stolen horse in his report :) )
  1. Our group and Sir Griffinshart returned to the Griffinshart estate. Sir Griffinsheart inqured of each of us as to how we had come to respond to his advertisement, and after the motives of each of us.
  2. At the conclusion of the meeting, most of us chose to return to town and seek logdings, ans the estate is very dilapidated. Misthanar and Elspeth chose to remain.
  3. We approached the bridge at last light. I heard goblins and alerted our group.
  4. The group of goblins appeared to comprise two archers, and five common warriors. More warriors were concealed under the bridge.
  5. The archers appeared to be somewhat better dressed than the common warrors. I surmise they were higher status. They remained well out of the melee.
  6. Our group killed the common warriors, and one of the archers. We sustained minor injuries. The combat was done in less than a minute.
  7. Notes on the performance of the members of our group in combat.
    1. Tarry seems to prefer to conceal himself and strike from the flank or the rear. He has considerable talent at concealment, and I think will become our group’s principal scout as well as engaging individual high-value targets.
    2. Basic Toasten was clearly performing magic, or attempting to. The magic was completely unfamiliar to me. There were some odd effects which at this stage I am unable to characterise, and which I cannot gauge the effectiveness of. I will need to observe him further to usefully evaluate him.
    3. C.F. Lashley performed bardic magic. He also killed one of the archers with what was clearly an Acid Arrow.
    4. Olivia is a warrior-preistess. She performed a blessing of some kind and joined the melee.
    5. Mal Shieldglider was most impressive, killing three of the goblins in a space of a few seconds in a series of blows.
    6. I myself did not contribute materially to the action.
  8. Summary
    1. Our group has too much magical support and not enough warriors. We lack an effective ranged combatant. If Misthanar – as I surmised – is a fighting monk, then he, Shieldglider, and Olivia are our front line. Olivia as our healer cannot be carelessly risked, although I doubt that she will see it that way. It remains to be seen if C.F. Lashley can step up with the rapier. Although I am not well-suited to the front line, I will probably need to step up and at least take a few hits. My lack of any useful action in this incident is somewhat embarrassing.
    2. That being said, our group is more than capable of taking on a group of ten or so goblins. The issue was not at any point in doubt.
    3. It is plain that goblins are ambushing travellers on the roads around Chancer’s Hope. This is probably something that should be dealt with.

War Stories

11 May, 2015

Scrubber and Toff were just about out of bolts.

This was bad news. They had been shooting a small ballista out of a foxhole all morning. Mudhole, more like. Nothing but mud down here on the lowlands, but this was the chokepoint – the orcs could not bring their mammoths over the mountains. The mud was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it meant they did not have to face the mammoths or heavy orc units. On the other hand, it was wet, cold, and miserable.

Aim. Shoot. Wind. Relaod. Aim. Shoot. Wind. Reload. They took turns shooting. Scrubber was the better shot, but it didn’t matter. Targets were getting thin. Their ammo box was getting empty.

Scrubber paused, breaking the rhythm. “Wot?” asked Toff. “I thought I seen a wizard,” he answered.

Toff took a moment to adjust his uniform, flicking the worst of the mud off it. It didn’t help. “Scrubber mate, if we get fireballed, we get fireballed and there’s nothing you or me can do about it. Now shoot one of them bastards. They already done for Charlie.”

Charlie did not answer this, as he was very dead and had been for hours – a crude but effective orc arrow nailing his head to the ammo box. A damn shame – Charlie was half orc and handy to have when it came to winding the ballista. There was a story there, but it was to remain untold.

Aim. Shoot. Wind. Reload. Late afternoon now. Not long to go.

Aim. Shoo “Shit!” Scrubber looked up to see Toff pointing. “Fucking croc-riders – maybe 40.” Scrubber and Toff hastily slewed the ballista around, and they and the artillery to either side started firing at the goblins and their mounts, but too slow, their targets too low to the ground. One, two taken down and then the enemy was on them.

Swords drawn, Toff stabbing a goblin clean through the heart by sheer luck. Then a croc got Scrubber’s leg in his jaws and began tear side to side. Two more croc riders charging them.

And then, “Ha ha! Glory! Glory and Empire!” A flash of white and gold and a lance taking two goblins and a croc in one magnificent charge, the lance spitting the croc down the length of its backbone. More knights appeared, a brief and ugly fight, and then a knight – tall, dashing, majestic cascades of golden hair cascading majectically from his noble and dashing crown. “Well fought, lads! Consider yourselves relieved!

The knight paused, retrieved a small case from his belt, and took out a purple ribbon. He knelt down to scrubber, who was oozing blood but would probably live, and solemnly declared “I award thee this ribbon, for military merit.”

Then rising, his knees curiously unstained by the mud of their mudhole, he sprang onto his snowy white (of course) mount and cried again “For Glory! Glory and The Empire!”. His knights roared in reply, “Glory and The Empire” and they pounded off towards more battle.

Scrubber, his pain momentarily forgotten out of sheer awe and star-struckedness asked Toff, “Who was that?”

“That, old chum, was Sir Leonard Griffinsheart. People call him Hank – no-one knows why.”


Jaycar taking all my money

9 May, 2015

My blind opener and closer seems to have bit rot, and I can’t get any feedback from it.

So I bought a shift register (“You bought a shift register?” “Yes, I bought a shift register.”)

Four of ’em. Here’s one in operation.

Yes, obviously it’s just counting. But the counting is done on the arduino, then I shift the 8 bits out to the register. The point being that I could have those bits be anything. Specifically, I could have them indicate the state of the various buttons and the internal state of the sketch.


Classic Yak Shaving. I want my blinds to work, so I need some feedback from my arduino, so I need some status LEDs (more than I already have), so I need a shift register, but I got four, so I have made up an array of 32 LEDs and now I need to wire them up, so I need solder, more gas for the iron, a dremel tool with a cutting wheel, a box to put the dremel tool bits in – you get the idea.

Yum! That soldering job!

The thing that redeems this excursion is that I am interested in shift registers and the general issue of buying ICs and putting them together to make a thing. Oh, and I’ve wanted a dremel tool for some time.

Anyway. I wanted to pack all the circuitry in that jiffy box, but the fact is that I am not going to be able to make it fit. So meh – I’ll just have some ribbon cable hanging out of it and put the shift registers on a small breadboard.

Once that’s done, I’ll be able to hook it up to three pins (plus power and earth) of my blind controller and get some reasonable explanation from it as to why my blinds are’nt opening and closing like the should.


James Mallard: A bit of a dissapointment

6 May, 2015

Monday was character creation, and a bit of game. We stopped game at a point where it’s not reasonable of James to have broken up his report, so meh – let’s pretend that this is just the first couple of paragraphs of a longer document. Suspend your disbelief!

Oh, and I grabbed some notes to take home with me, so I can fill in some of the things I had to leave blank last blog. 8 players. The 13th age docs state that 7 is the absolute maximum :) .

Griffinheart assignment – initial impressions

  1. On ‹date› I travelled through Chancer’s Hope to report to the Griffinheart estate. In Chancer’s Hope I joined a group of 5 persons who were responding to the posters calling for adventurers.
  2. Our group secured a cart to travel the estate. Although it is only 20 minutes march, our number included halflings and dwarves. (See attachment A, petty cash.)
  3. Our group was briefly heckled by persons in the crowd. I believe the words were “There go the great heroes!”, which was meant sarcastically and was met with general merriment. With posters all over town and elsewhere, the purpose our group is hardly a secret. Heckling, however, did come as a bit of a surprise.
  4. We were joined by two more people, Misthanar on the way and C.F. Lashley at the estate.
  5. The list of persons our group comprises, and my personal impressions of them, are:
    1. Mistthanar (Mist), an elf of indeterminate age. Some sort of mystic, perhaps martial. A fighting monk.
      Jez. Elven monk.
    2. Tarry, a halfling. A nondescript commoner probably simply in need of work.
      John. Halfling rogue.
    3. Elsbeth (Beth), probably a half-elf. An arcane spellcaster.
      Alice. Human sorcerer.
    4. Basic Toasten (Cheers), a dwarf. Seems to be a magic user of some description.
      Kieren. “Basic Toasten”==”Cheers!”. Geddit? Cheers is The Occultist – there can be only one, in 13th age. Or can there?
    5. Mal Shieldglider – a dwarven warrior. Claims to be a son of one of the kingsguard, which is possible.
      AJ. Straightforward dwarf fighter. Yes, we have a tank, thank God.
    6. Cannis Frederick Lashley (Lash). A travelling performer, an acrobat.
      Drewf. Assimaar bard. James is just assuming he’s human.
    7. Olivia. A priestess of temperance.
      Maddy. Human cleric.
    8. James Mallard (myself).
      Paul. Human hybrid commander/wizard.
    The non-humans get their races mentioned, you’ll notice. I have also discovered that James tends to talk down to people. Especially halflings. House servants, you know. I suspect he’s a bit of a snob, but a good-hearted one. In keeping with the “we are good guys” theme of the campaign, if James is a snob, then its a “Noblesse Oblige” situation – it’s our duty to take care of the smallfolk, don’t you know, and not to make a big fuss about doing it.
  6. On arriving at the Griffinheart estate, we discovered it to be – in a word – dilapidated.
  7. According to CF Lashley, who we met at the estate, Leonard Griffinheart – decorated hero of the empire – is in fact a well-known sot. This came as unwelcome news to those of us who were previously unaware of this important fact.
    Oww! Burn!
  8. Present was some sort of servant or cook, one “Pirate Pete”, an old and not terribly clean man whose pirating days are most certainly well behind him. Pete informed us that Mr Griffinheart was probably still in town. Drinking. Rather than wait for him, we chose to head back to Chancer’s Hope and commence serching the pubs. We met Mr Griffinheart on the path back to town. He was drunk, as we had anticipated, but Olivia managed to revive him somewhat and we were able to begin getting down to business

And so Leonard Griffinheart, decorated hero of the empire, has been demoted to “Mr”. Will he be able to redeem himself? I don’t know. I was going to say “I hope so!”, but you know – I’m cool either way. Perhaps we will find out next game! Or much later!


James Mallard – 1

4 May, 2015

‹› indicates free variables to be filled in later, or otherwise subject to revision :).

Oh, and if the actual military people who really do know what a military thingamabob looks like could kindly muffle their chortles, it would be appreciated.

Assignment of CDT James Mallard to ‹special adventurer dude›.

  1. Status of CDT Mallard prior to assignment

    1. ‹Frontier Command› assigned CDT Mallard to Chancer’s Hope fort on ‹insert date› (troop movement order 6546-34-234-J-234.5.2[K])
    2. Chancer’s Hope fort has no specific facilities or personnel for the training of cadet warmages.
    3. In addition to his quarters, I have assigned CDT Mallrat (what? damn you, auto-correct!) Mallard a shed near the stables for use as a workshop.
    4. CDT Mallard seems to have been pursuing his studies as best he is able. I and others have observed him regularly studying standard-issue manuals of magic, casting minor spells (flashing lights, small objects moving, faeries), and generally acting with due diligence in this regard.
    5. CDT Mallard has also requested assignment to patrols.
  2. Request for personnel by ‹special adventurer dude›

    1. Leonard Griffinsheart DSC, GMO, is a well-known ally of the empire, holding the rank of ‹I dunno – Major?› prior to discharge, and having distinguished himself at the Battle of Pikes Peak, on the eastern front, etc.
    2. On ‹date›, Mr Griffinsheart requested personnel for a series of small operations in Chancer’s Hope and the surrounding area. Mr Griffinsheart specifically requested arcane magic users.
    3. The personnel would be part of a typical civilian “adventuring party”, 4-8 individuals with a variety of skills.
    4. Mr Griffinsheart stated that the danger involved would likely be minimal.
  3. Reasons for assignment

    1. Operations conduced by Leonard Griffinsheart are probably in the best interests of The Empire.
    2. CDT Mallard has no specific duties at Chancer’s Hope fort.
    3. In lieu of any other provision for CDT Mallard’s training, active duty is appropriate.
    4. CDT Mallard’s studies are spooking the horses.
  4. CDT Mallard is therefore assigned to Mr Leonard Griffinsheart until further notice.

The real question, though, is why does the CO have to go to this amount of bullshit to justify doing this? Who is reading this report?


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