Gaming

Aru-Kamis–Return to the City of the Lich King

Finn CullenLeave a comment

I’m currently working on a new Barbarians of Lemuria adventure Bride of the Rat King which is tentatively located in my existing setting of the dreadful haunted city of Aru-Kamis (though it can be dropped into any setting that has cities with disreputable areas, which is pretty much all of them).   Because it’s been a while since I posted my Aru-Kamis setting online, and because when I originally created it I inadvertently and spontaneously created a gang of criminals that had the same name as a gang of criminals from another and rather wonderful game, I thought I’d tidy up the setting material, correct the coincidental plagiarism and reupload it.

So if your Barbarian heroes are likely to enjoy visiting a haunted city of shadows ruled over by an immortal lich, then you can find out all you need to know about Aru-Kamis (and hints about its sister cities) HERE

Fiction

The Stone and the Seven

Finn CullenLeave a comment

Cannot sleep my lady?  Then draw close to the candle and listen.

I will tell you a tale of the old old days there were not in fact so long ago as you would hope.

The King in those days had two sons.   The eldest son, the heir was a foul creature, handsome enough to look upon but nobody could long bear his presence without wanting to flee him or strike him.   The King indulged his eldest son and the people suffered for it, but not so much that they would rise up and turn horror into anger.

In those days a traveller came through the wood, astray in the dark heart of it, lost and cold.  Each path mocked him with its turns and every way he took brought him back across his own earlier path.   If he called on the Virgin for guidance she did not hear him or choose to answer.

The denizens of that house were several and they were foul welcoming him with mocking eagerness, complimenting the length of his limbs and the strength of his frame and the beauty of his features.   They themselves were short and twisted things, pale and half formed with faces that called to mind the slack hanging faces of the dead.   They dragged him into their hovel and sat him at their table.   They all assured him that his presence honoured their dreadful cottage, all except for one more malformed than the rest who lacked the power of speech and simply rested his bulbous head on the table and damped the wood with his drooling.

He ate their rancid meat and drank their fusty water as hospitality demanded and he felt his stomach rebel but his manners kept the foul mess down.

And then they offered him a treat fit for a prince.  The offer was  made with leering smiles and wicked hints of tone and gesture.    Behind the cottage there was a path of pale cobbles half buried in the mud, white and brittle they looked and his feet slipped on them as the creatures swarmed him toward their goal, a clearing in the woods like a bald patch on a diseased scalp.   There was a slab there, a stone altar, rough and cruel and well used.   The old worshippers had altars like this before their gods were purged with fire and salt.    There on the altar was a maiden, still and pale and as the stories would have you be assured, fair beyond measure.

The stranger demanded to know what was meant by it, how these misshapen brutes should come to have the company of a woman so unmarred.   The creatures smiled, or scowled or drooled according to their nature and the leader of them explained in sly words how they were commissioned to the work by a great man, and that the lady was a pleasure fit for a prince.

The prince, they explained, would not visit until later and so if the gentleman visitor wished he could avail himself of the lady.  A modest donation to their coffers would suffice.

The stranger drew his sword and butchered the monsters.   Their pale flesh parted beneath his steel, their limbs fell jointed to the ground.   They did not resist even so much as a child might and died in confusion that their gift should be so scorned.   When they fell dead the stranger tried to rouse the lady and found that no power short of the final trump on the day of resurrection could do so.  She was cold and still and would never rise again from that brooding stone.  What surgeon’s art had preserved her in so fair a condition he did not dare imagine.

He did not hear the prince, the heir approach.  The young man was grievously wounded as the prince slashed his face back and forth with his dagger decrying him as a slayer of his loyal and secret servants, and demanding of him where he would find his cold pale brides now.

And that is the tale I have told.  I do not know if you smile or frown at it, for my brother’s blade took my eyes that night so long ago, when our father still lived.

In the morning I will bring you your breakfast to fit you for your journey.

Blow out the candle when you are ready my lady.

Sleep deeply.

*

Finn Cullen’s first novel “A Step Beyond Context” is available now at Amazon in Kindle and Paperback versions.

Fiction

Abandoned Beauty

Finn CullenLeave a comment

“He’s on his way, I’ve seen him through the eyes of owls.  Young and full of vigour,” Her voice was self-satisfied, with just a hint of lewd appreciation.
“So romantic,” came the reply in gentle delicate tones of wistful contentment
“Romance be damned,” the third voice was a menacing rumble, “it’s the story that draws him.  Always the story.”
The three of them waited in an upper room, looking out of the window into the wooded valley below.   The house was glorious once, but that was before it had been abandoned to the elements and to time, before moss and vines grew over its surface and the burrowing creatures dug into its rocky foundations, before the rain and wind of countless years wore away the paint and etched age into the face of the building.   
The three of them wore the shapes, more or less, of women.
“We should try to stop him of course,” said the first of them, “Should I…?”
“No,” sighed the second, “let me.  Poor boy.”   She relaxed out of her vanishing body and the valley forest pulsed in response.
“She’ll botch it,” growled the third.       They watched as the canopy of trees quivered far below and a few moments later the one who had vanished returned.   She was ragged and glaring now, her green clothing tattered and torn.
“Clever boy,” she said, and she’d lost the wistfulness,  “My vines and stinging plants engulfed him.  He sprayed me with chemicals and withered me.”  She spat on the floor.  It steamed.
“My wolves will end him,” said the first of them.  Her eyes gleamed orange and she was gone.   Below there was howling and shouting and chasing and…
She was back suddenly, clutching herself and leaking blood.
“Revolvers,” she growled, “and he’s a bloody good shot.”
“Useless,” boomed the third of them and the sky darkened as she vanished.   “Leave.  Him.  To.  Me.”    The last four words were thunder crashes, and lightning stabbed the valley shattering trees and stone where they struck.
The other two looked at each other and waited.
“He’s good,” said the one in tattered green.
“He’s the one,” said the wolf-eyed woman.
Suddenly the third of them was back, pale and furious.
“He’s a pain in the backside,” she said, “And he’s tough.  Made it to the steps.”
They all peered out of the window and looked down.  Far below a young hero staggered up the long flight of stairs leading to the house.   He was injured and soaked and a little scorched, but undaunted.
They sighed and moved further in, resting on a balcony overlooking the grand hall below.  In the centre of the hall was a bed and on the bed a maiden lay, pale and golden haired and untouched by time.
The young man thrust open the mossy doors and staggered into the room.   He paused as he took in the beauty of the maiden sleeping in the mansion lost to time, but he only paused for a second.   And then, his strength renewed he strode forward and bent over her to kiss her flawless skin.
“They always get the story wrong,” the first grumbled as the maiden’s eyes flickered open.
“Such a shame,” agreed the second.   The maiden wrapped her arms around his shoulders and opened her mouth wide, revealing twin rows of pearl white fangs.  The young man screamed as she bit down.
“The sacrifice of the heroic king,” said the third, nodding, “has to be the strongest, the cleverest, the finest.   And they’re the only ones that make it through, who make it past the flora, and the fauna and my merry weather.”    
In the chamber below the maiden sat up and stretched, her gown soaked scarlet, her lips dripping gore.     She waved at the three faerie who had guarded her, and they waved back grinning.
Job done.

Writing

Oh my gosh

Finn CullenLeave a comment

I’m far more excited than I have any right to be after receiving notification of a piddling little electronic payment.  My first ever royalties for my novel have just come through and while it will barely cover the cost of the new ICRPG core rulebook coming out today I am very happy indeed – Guess this means I’m a professional writer now!

If you want to see what’s made me so happy check out “A Step Beyond Context”

Gaming

The Star Flung Hammer

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A new Sword & Sorcery adventure for Index Card RPG involving a daring expedition into hostile territory and the confrontation of an unexpected cosmic horror.

Something strange fell from the sky into the land of the Jötnar – and those brave souls who went in search of it never came back.  Now doom is prophesied and new heroes must arise to follow the path to danger and glory – but worse things than Jötnar dwell in the mountains, and the secret of the Star-Flung Hammer is nothing that those heroes could have imagined.

Download here

Gaming

The Jötnar

Finn CullenLeave a comment

The Jötnar, (singular Jötun, make the plural “Jotuns” if you want – they’re unlikely to call the Plurality Police) are an adversarial race suitable for a dark ages, particularly Viking inspired setting.   

The name is often mistranslated into English as “giant” (via a Norman/French word relating to a Hellenic Greek concept misapplied to a term in Hebrew if you’re interested) but the Norse folk did not see them as particularly being of great size.    The name is more accurately translated as “devourer” or “wrecker” and the Jötnar are seen as forces opposed to good order and human society.   Some may appear larger than normal folk, others smaller, others may have appealing features, others again may be monstrous in many ways.

They dwell outside the edges of the human controlled lands (a famous Jötun dwelled in Utgard, the name literally meaning “beyond the bounds”) and typically provide a force of external menace and opposition.

While they are not some sort of monstrous race like Orcs or Goblins, the GM may decide to give even the less unusual Jötnar some consistent identifiable trait to make them instantly recognisable for what they are.   Skin the grey of the northern seas, eyes of jet black with red irises or a wild and primitive aspect that instantly marks them out.   With the exception of powerful Jötnar they cannot pass as human.  Interestingly enough they are near enough to both human and god (the Norse kind) to interbreed with them – Odin was half Jötun, Thor was three-quarters Jötun!

A Typical Jötun:
+2 to any rolls relating to physical prowess – combat, climbing, digging, leaping etc
A single Heart of hit points
Melee attack with their brutal weapons for Weapon Effort +1
Primal Ferocity – On the turn after they’re wounded a Jötun can make a single attack roll at all targets in close range, doing Weapon Effort +2 to any that are hit

A Lordly Jötun

Each band of Jötnar will have a leader, an individual with greater wits and power.   
They tend to be sly as well as courageous and enjoy outwitting their enemies as well as just pulverising them.

+3 to any rolls for physical prowess – combat, climbing, digging, posing about the place
+2 to any rolls relating to cunning action or resisting manipulation or deception
Two Hearts of hit points
Melee attack with a brutal weapon for Weapon Damage+1

Primal Ferocity – On the turn after they’re wounded a Jötun can make a single attack roll at all targets in close range, doing Weapon Effort +2 to any that are hit 

Each Lordly Jötun should also have at least one unique power – roll 1d8 on the table below or come up with something else that fits – you can tailor the Jötun’s power to make it anything from a slightly more powerful opponent to a campaign’s major bad-guy.

  1. Wind Born – the Jötun can assume the form of a bird in order to flee or spy on enemies
  2. Mountain Born – it grows to double normal size once per day only, heals all damage already taken and gains an extra Heart of hit points.   Weapon damage now rolled on d8 (+adds)
  3. Eart Shaker- A powerful stomp shakes the earth around them – all human sized or smaller foes within Near range must make a Dex check or fall.   Cannot be used again for another 1d6 turns.
  4. Stone Skinned – Reduce any damage taken by 3 points
  5. Baleful Eye – By fixing a distended eye on a foe and challenging them specifically the Jötun makes all its attacks against that Foe as though Easy.  The Jötun will not attack any other foe however until that one is dealt with.
  6. Cunning Guise- the Jötun can assume a pleasing human form in order to pass among humans – though they always have one inhuman feature (and will generally try to conceal it)
  7. Flyting Tongue – The Jötun speaks insults against a specific target so foul and unbearably shameful that the target must make a CHARISMA roll or either flee the scene in disgrace or charge directly and without heed of other danger to attack the Jötun
  8. Swift Stepper – As its only action that round the Jötun can vanish and then reappear anywhere within its original line of sight regardless of obstacles.


Farmathr the Pedlar – an example Lordly Jötun

Farmathr is a cunning and treacherous creature.  In his natural form he is a brutish looking man of notable size, with skin the texture and colour of rough sandstone and eyes like holes worn in the rock.   He can magically disguise himself as a human though and habitually moves among the settlements of mankind posing as a merchant, riding a cart pulled by a sturdy goat.  He does this to learn the strengths and weaknesses of mankind, and where it would be profitable to strike.

+3 to any rolls for physical prowess – combat, climbing, digging, posing about the place
+2 to any rolls relating to cunning action or resisting manipulation or deception
Two Hearts of hit points
Melee attack with a brutal weapon for Weapon Damage+1

Gambler & Oathmaker
He will cheat and swindle anyone he meets, often suggesting a wager that he will then rig in his favour.  If anyone tries to default on their payment (regardless of how unfair the contest proved to be) they must make a HARD Charisma roll or Farmathr’s curse falls upon them and they gain a Bad Name – all Charisma checks from then on are automatically HARD.   The curse will lift only with Farmathr’s death or if he can be tricked into wagering the lifting of the curse… and then loses the wager.

Cunning Guise
Farmathr can change into a human form, his favourite is a weather beaten traveler, at will.  The only thing he can never disguise is that he has a snarling mouth in his belly that he keeps concealed under his shirt.  He can only ingest food and drink through his belly mouth, and though he can pretend to eat and drink normally he has to vomit up food taken in through his face-hole.    The mouth in his belly tends to mutter and curse darkly when hungry or when Farmathr is angry, and anyone within CLOSE distance may be given a hard  perception roll to hear the mumbled obscenities.  Farmathr will try to pass them off as indigestion.

Six Rotten Eggs
Among the goods in his cart, Farmathr carries a wooden box filled with straw and containing six large eggs.  He never displays or tries to sell these, as these eggs are his six brothers transformed by Farmathr’s magic.   When he needs to go to battle he will break the eggs and each will become a fully armed and equipped Jötun.  Use the normal attributes as above, though one of the six will have the ability to use the Mountain Born power once only – being cooped up inside the eggshell has given him a desire to stretch!    If anyone cooks and eats all six eggs they need to make a HARD Constition roll to keep the foul mess down but they will gain +1 Strength permanently and make a fierce enemy of Farmathr.

Gaming

Devious in the Dark

Finn CullenLeave a comment

I ran my first Blades in the Dark adventure last night and it was the proverbial blast.

The characters were three members of the same family, a pair of brother/sister twins of mixed Akorosi and Skovlan heritage and their cousin (mixed Akorosi/Iruvian), all former Imperial military and now running a small smuggling outfit out of Crowsfoot.

I decided to start with the classic “War in Crowsfoot” set up from the rulebook and Bazso Baz the Lampblack leader called them in for a nice chat.  He showed off a box of dirt grown carrots from the radiant farm that one of his contacts had procured for him, and enjoyed the gift of some nice whisky the smugglers (Hell Runner Corp) had brought for him.   Then he got down to business and invited them to join him against the Red Sashes, hoping that Pasha’s part Iruvian heritage wouldn’t get in the way of that.

“I’m suspicious of patriots,” Baz explained, “saw too many shitty things happen under flags during the war.”

Pasha assured him there’d be no problem and Baz sweetened the deal with a potential score – he’d got wind of a consignment of the narcotic dawnflower coming in aboard an Irvuvian ship two nights hence and destined for the Red Sashes.   If Hellrunner Corp could get hold of that the should sell it and keep half the money – Baz of course would take the other half as a finder’s fee.   He pointed out that he didn’t often offer carrots so they might be happy to take one while it was available.

So far so normal I guess.   Then Carioh, the Spider of the team, called up a flashback to the previous day.   Pasha had got him an introduction to Mylera, leader of the Red Sashes and a private interview in her office overlooking the training room of her sword academy.    The player asked if there was anything Mylera liked and I mentioned her love of art.   A Flashback-within-a-Flashback later and Carioh presented her with an exquisite Iruvian statuette – one of the Five Noble Djinn – which certainly got her attention.   No formal arrangement was reached (other than Mylera offering a casual non-hostility arrangement and asking pointedly for more of the same set of Djinn if they could be found) but it was clear that Hell Runner Corp weren’t planning to meekly go along with Baz and choose sides.

The plot got considerably thicker, and I was delighted by the character’s twisted strategy.

They had a friend who was a docker and pumped him for information about how incoming goods are treated.   They found out there was a new foreman who was a stickler for protocol but the local customs officer was as corrupt as any in Doskvol.  Offloaded goods should be stored until properly checked before being released but the corrupt customs guy often just rubber stamped things in exchange for a clanking backhander.

And then in what I consider a true masterstroke of playing both sides, Pasha in a subtle disguise playing up his Iruvian roots, went to meet the Fog Hounds in their favourite fighting pit in the Docks where he approached the rival smugglers with an offer.   He represented interests in Iruvia, he told them, who had decided the Red Sashes weren’t handling their merchandise properly.  He’d tip them off about where they could pick up some incoming dawnflower and they could distribute it as they wanted.   Margrette, leader of the Fog Hounds was interested, but Bear the big second-in-command was less impressed by how convenient all this seemed, and by Pasha’s reluctance to join them in some serious drinking.

Lacking suitable skills in Sway or Consort, Pasha’s player looked over the character sheet and took to heart the option to use any ability they could if they could justify it.   Bear, he said, clearly valued strength and courage above all things.   He invited him to a bout in the fighting pit.

One suitably punchy mini action scene later Pasha had beaten Bear to a standstill but not so much as to humiliate the man.   There were manly embraces between the combatants and the deal was done.  Pasha told the Fog Hounds where the consignment was coming in and when.

The next stage took place on the night of the consignment.   The team Slide arranged for the friendly docker to be assigned to the work gang and was the one unloading the small trunk of “personal items” that contained the narcotics.    As he made his way up the wharf a small hired steam ship full of drunken pedlars arrived at the wharf and started making a fuss about being unloaded.    The pedlars were the Hell Runner Corp’s cohort playing their role…    To add to the distraction, Pasha now decked out like a docker himself went and started pushing and shoving the drunks and a minor brawl broke out ending with Hix (one of the cohort) being dumped over the side and the drunks retreating with him yelling threats.

During that distraction the team Slide picked the lock on the trunk and removed the contents, replacing them with some low grade local narcotic worth marginally more than dried eel skins.

The friendly docker continued to place the re-locked box of crap in the holding warehouse and the team retreated to their HQ while the Fog Hounds shelled out some decent bribe money to the corrupt customs man to get to steal the worthless trunk.

The upshot of all this –

Hell Runner Corp are now in possession of a decent Score’s worth of narcotics

They are also in possession of a now cracked (a complication from the job) urn containing the ashes of Mylera’s late and beloved grandmother that was being shipped to her at her earnest request from Iruvia.      This, needless to say, makes the loss to the Red Sashes very personal.

The Red Sashes, because of the above two factors are now furiously hunting the Fog Hounds for the heist.

Carioh the leader of the Hell Runner Corp can act duly irritated with Baz for setting up a score that another crew clearly had better connections to.  He’s hoping this will make Baz feel obligated to help again (but as Baz said, carrots are a rare commodity and he is more familiar with sticks).

We played a little bit of Downtime and the team picked up the “gang trouble” Entanglement which was an easy one – Hix, the rover who had been dumped in the river and laughed at by the dockers went back to the Docks with his pals and beat the crap out of the man who had done the laughing.  Carioh had to give the team a dressing down and we ended up with a “Hix is pissed” clock for feeling unsupported by the boss.

*

I enjoyed the session greatly – particularly how devious the characters turned out to be.  What I’d imagined as a fairly simple heist job turned into a three party con that enriched the player characters’ crew and set the Red Sashes on a rival smuggling outfit.    I’ve never come across a set of rules that rewards play like this so effortlessly.

Session two next week and while I’ve got some basic ideas of what things may be around and happening I’m not going to plan too much – just enjoy the ride.

***

Finn Cullen’s first novel “A Step Beyond Context” is now available HERE.   A Regency drama/Cyberpunk thriller with dandies, rakes, Jillbots and jackbikes, sorcerers and mercenary units.

Fiction

Avalon

Finn Cullen1 Comment
 
My grandfather once told me that he’d spent his whole life in summer.   I was a child then and I didn’t understand, but I believed him.  There was sunshine in him, always warmth, and he took delight in everything.  Being around him was like an easy purposeless walk on an August evening through the wooded lanes around his house.   I’d walked those lanes and knew each turn, each fence, each sunbeam.    Those lanes had seen a thousand thousand of me — the cowboy, the knight, the pirate, the explorer, latterly the thwarted romantic hero.   We’d walked those lanes for years and countless summer stories had been told in the dappled light.
My summer was coming to an end.   As September slouched over the threshold I’d leave for university and take up a course that was practical and appropriate, which would be the gateway into growth and progression and forward planning and productivity and purpose and perhaps, someday, a comfortable retirement in which I could take long and easy walks to nowhere and everywhere and then, ultimately, to nowhere again.

Standing in my grandfather’s garden, between the two apple trees exactly the same age as me, I heard absent echoes of running feet and excited voices overlaying the silence.   What did they have to be excited about?  Hadn’t they seen the autumn clouds over the nearby woodland?   Hadn’t they known about the rain that would turn the green grass to mud and ruin?

No.  They hadn’t.  It had always been summer here, even when the snow piled up so deep and white and crisp that it remade the world.  Always summer, and no clouds and no rain could drive away an old man’s smile.

But September was coming. Summer would be a memory, as glorious, unreal and intangible as a rainbow.

I stepped away from the two apple trees, exactly the same age as me, and back toward the slowly emptying house, and the expressionless faces and low tones of my well dressed relatives

***

Finn Cullen’s first novel A Step Beyond Context, a family drama and mystery spread over many worlds is now available on Amazon – Click HERE for more details.