The wife is making Blue Rabbit labelled mead for her birthday b/c that is what she has decided to name any booze she'll make.
So yeah, a FLAILSNAIL thing has booze named after it.
Nostrovia!
Monday, June 17, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
d100 what are they drinking table
d100 table suitable for whatever your favorite version of fantasy game it is. 100 Medieval era drinks from Europe and Asia.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
FROM THE JOURNAL OF ALEXANDER MANNING part 2
FROM THE JOURNAL OF ALEXANDER MANNING
- The Bouttreax Incident, Part 2: Shit Gets Crazy -
Take heed and bear witness to the truths that lie herein - for they are the last legacy of that Thrice Cursed Minstrel.
...
The warm, pink liquid, the nectar of my Potioncube, melted into my veins: And so the madness began. I blinked for a few moments, my eyes blurred and swam... I blinked again, curiously affected by the lamps in the room... and soon realised that the nightscapes through the windows were visible to me, as clear as day! This potion did not poison me, thank Three, but granted me with vision to see in the night! Fantastic! I declared this boon, and described the Lord's land by way of proof. The crowd seemed curious or skeptical... I excitedly ran from window to window, enjoying this new magic, as challenges and amazement rang out behind me. Inspired by my courage, The Lord's Squire, full of wine and youth, eager to prove his valour, tumbled the prism and drank from it's gift. He too stood blinking for a moment before a cry of joy burst from him! “Huzzah”, came the cry and he soon joined me at the window, where we drunkely highlighted owls and the rodents they hunted. Murmurs filled the room, which soon turned to arguments and challenges. The name 'William' was heard more often than any other... Brilliant!
Lord William sat, with a curious look on his face... Presumably the man was threatened by the risk, but unwilling to allow himself to be upstaged by his young and reckless squire. He looked deep in thought... Some moments passed... And “FINE!” he said, “DAMN YOU ALL! FINE!” he stood quickly, finishing his drink.
“You cretins... I had better not regret this!” he grumbled, rolling the cube prismly across the table. It crushed glasses and unsettled desserts, but soon stopped, revealing a simple glass potion-vial. He walked confidently over to the potion that sat atop, uncorked it and swallowed the pink liquid. All watched as he coughed quietly and then looked quizzically in my direction... He flexed slightly and grinned at me..
Sir William, Lord of Castle Bouttreaux, Knight of Wessex. This somber gentleman, mad with angst and vexation, robbed of his youthful vigour and filled with a wonderfully wholesome wine, did grasp the nearest chair (unceremoniously unseating the shocked fellow using it) and flung it hard against the wall, shattering the piece. “I FEEL YOUNG AGAIN!!” he roared! He stoutly kicked the dining table, upending it and several guests besides, and wielding his chair leg as a fine Feierlander battlecane! Obviously possessed by the eager spirit of some Knight Errant, and most certainly filled with strength of a Malgarr Hearthguard, he set about shouting in manly rage and dismantling any non-human in the room! O, dear reader it was wonderful! Chunks of chair and ripped paintings lay strewn across the room in mere seconds, such was the Strength of William!
The guests were either outraged, uproariously entertained, or helping. Poor, unseasoned Chezmerelda fled the room, ostensibly to pray. Lady Susan seemed intrigued by her husband's impressive and uncharacteristic display of masculinity. Several of the men were taken by the occasion, snapping and crushing things alongside their lord... William roared again, words this time, and summoned one of the Wizard's Danish Men-At-Arms. The Castle Chaplain was inspired by this display and gleefully drank a potion from the cube. He let his own drunken cry and lifted a chair, only to realise that, instead of manly strength, the concoction had left his entire body covered in a hardy and flexible wood. He paused for a moment, confused and obviously disappointed by this development... he laughed, shrugged, and hefted his chair out a nearby window. The glass shattered just as someone else was struck by a bowl of Coleslaw.
Once food had been identified as legal riot currency, some spicey pigeon quickly and forcefully found it's way into one of the heretofore outraged ladies' bodices, the latter, furious, promptly throwing a fistful of custard at the offender. From this moment forth, there was neither sane nor sensible soul in the holding. The rough and muscular Dane, Olaf (or Arnoulf?), soon appeared in the room's doorway, where he was instantly borne to the floor and pummelled by a maniacal Sir William. This proved a catalyst of sorts, for it turns out this warrior was something of a Berserker! So he bit Sir Williams hand broke the poor Lord's nose with his forehead. Sir William let fly a fearsome roar, and beat the man harder, their tussle spilling them both, bloody and brilliant, out the door and into the courtyard. A large crowd grew and cheered, watching as this primal display grew bloodier and more hilarious. Smiling quietly to myself, I poured another glass and trotted after the chaos.
Everyone who wasn't engaged in their own mischief was enjoying the wrestling, which had gotten completely out of hand... there is blood and drink flying everywhere.. at one point this Berserker was ramming the lord's face into the cobblestones as Sir William struck repeatedly at his Danish Saddlebags. Both were grinning uncontrollably, Olaf between winces and William through a rictus of blood and sweat. Utter madness. The wooden-chaplain had started an impromptu betting ring. He met my gaze through the crowd and smiled broadly. I took the opportunity to be insulted. No, dear reader, there was no reason for this save pure joy. I throw my shirt aside and charge through the gentlefolk! Coins and tickets burst into the air as I wrestle the Timberly Fellow to the ground, smiling and smushing his face with cold mashed potato.
At some point in our little match, several of the menagerie toward the back of the crowd spontaneously fall asleep... No-one cares, obviously. It was uh... rather grand though. One of them fell so hard that she shattered her nose on the pavement. Hah! Such fun. Whilst distracted by this I.. uhh... I don't precisely know what happened, dear reader. Suffice to say, I ended up wrestling the Lord William himself. Both of us were covered in blood, food and laughter. The old man was incredibly strong (potion? Note to self – investigate) but my training with the People's Peace Corps of Feierland County (PPCFC), and my time wrestling with Ronian Crocodilliers put me in good stead.
I cracked half a dozen eggs on the good lord's face, and whilst reaching for some more I saw the lustful Dane brutalising the poor chaplain. Brutalising, I say, and I promise you the word is not an exaggeration. I strongly feel that his wooden countenance was the only thing that let him keep his eyes that night. Noble and loveable reader: The cheers were deafening.
May I say here, that if the cheers were defeaning, the screams they turned into were positively unbearable... for as I stuffed a housecat into William's mouth, some unholy and Smokey Demon casually tore the arms off of That Diabolical Minstrel of Story Stealing Morality! Hah! Wonderful! A hilarious and suitably stressful demise for that despicable knave. Bloody and covered in potato, I roll off Sir William, springing to my feet. The Horror-Thing is eviscerating the guests. Details are sketchy, for I was afflicted by alcohol and adrenaline both, and for this vagueness I must apologise... But the Demon's victims.. well.. there is not much to bury, I am sorry to say. Apparently this creature was called 'Satan', or so I gathered from several of the guests (Fleeing and screaming his terrible name as they were). Without jest, It was a horrible and cruel beast... Relishing in the blood it shed and the lives it ended. It was, quite simply, violent.
Naturally, drunken and unclothed as I was, I rushed into the beast and boxed it. It's claws were rending at my flesh and soul, and it gave as good as it took... I stuck him with a right as he ripped at my face... I slipped a reaching talon and landed a short uppercut to it's fiendish chin... The battle raged! Our struggle trashed much of the courtyard, and I paid for each stumble with a slicing claw or firey breath. In the end though, my accurate handwork and skillful movement proved too much for this Satan-beast.
The demon forced a clinch, rending my shoulder with it's teeth... Undeterred, I ripped hook after hook into it's failing body.. My shoulder ached, but after these crushing blows, Satan crumbled... the smokey shambler dropped to it's knees, crippled by pain and groaning a filthy, inhuman groan. I drove a bloody knee into The Despicable Beast's face, and so ended The Thing. It slowly dissipated, filling the courtyard with repugnant smoke and leaving nought but a pile of sulphurous ash. Victory!!!
I cheered triumphantly, but none cheered with me, for they were all dead or fleeing. Olaf was apparently and gleefully tieing the Chaplain to the ceiling. I stood, arms raised, but a little sad that something so unbearable as this 'Satan' character could spoil such fun... Without warning, I was grasped from my back and dishonourably suplex'd to the ground by a seemingly rejuvenated Sir William! That squirrelly rogue! Three curses on his devious tactics!! Our struggle resumed! Blows were struck and positions changed to and fro... but, much as I wish otherwise, I honestly could not tell you who won, dear reader! The drink has gotten the best of me this day, for all I remember was waking up to a delicious breakfast of Eggs and fruit. Oh Adia!
- The Bouttreax Incident, Part 2: Shit Gets Crazy -
Take heed and bear witness to the truths that lie herein - for they are the last legacy of that Thrice Cursed Minstrel.
...
The warm, pink liquid, the nectar of my Potioncube, melted into my veins: And so the madness began. I blinked for a few moments, my eyes blurred and swam... I blinked again, curiously affected by the lamps in the room... and soon realised that the nightscapes through the windows were visible to me, as clear as day! This potion did not poison me, thank Three, but granted me with vision to see in the night! Fantastic! I declared this boon, and described the Lord's land by way of proof. The crowd seemed curious or skeptical... I excitedly ran from window to window, enjoying this new magic, as challenges and amazement rang out behind me. Inspired by my courage, The Lord's Squire, full of wine and youth, eager to prove his valour, tumbled the prism and drank from it's gift. He too stood blinking for a moment before a cry of joy burst from him! “Huzzah”, came the cry and he soon joined me at the window, where we drunkely highlighted owls and the rodents they hunted. Murmurs filled the room, which soon turned to arguments and challenges. The name 'William' was heard more often than any other... Brilliant!
Lord William sat, with a curious look on his face... Presumably the man was threatened by the risk, but unwilling to allow himself to be upstaged by his young and reckless squire. He looked deep in thought... Some moments passed... And “FINE!” he said, “DAMN YOU ALL! FINE!” he stood quickly, finishing his drink.
“You cretins... I had better not regret this!” he grumbled, rolling the cube prismly across the table. It crushed glasses and unsettled desserts, but soon stopped, revealing a simple glass potion-vial. He walked confidently over to the potion that sat atop, uncorked it and swallowed the pink liquid. All watched as he coughed quietly and then looked quizzically in my direction... He flexed slightly and grinned at me..
Sir William, Lord of Castle Bouttreaux, Knight of Wessex. This somber gentleman, mad with angst and vexation, robbed of his youthful vigour and filled with a wonderfully wholesome wine, did grasp the nearest chair (unceremoniously unseating the shocked fellow using it) and flung it hard against the wall, shattering the piece. “I FEEL YOUNG AGAIN!!” he roared! He stoutly kicked the dining table, upending it and several guests besides, and wielding his chair leg as a fine Feierlander battlecane! Obviously possessed by the eager spirit of some Knight Errant, and most certainly filled with strength of a Malgarr Hearthguard, he set about shouting in manly rage and dismantling any non-human in the room! O, dear reader it was wonderful! Chunks of chair and ripped paintings lay strewn across the room in mere seconds, such was the Strength of William!
The guests were either outraged, uproariously entertained, or helping. Poor, unseasoned Chezmerelda fled the room, ostensibly to pray. Lady Susan seemed intrigued by her husband's impressive and uncharacteristic display of masculinity. Several of the men were taken by the occasion, snapping and crushing things alongside their lord... William roared again, words this time, and summoned one of the Wizard's Danish Men-At-Arms. The Castle Chaplain was inspired by this display and gleefully drank a potion from the cube. He let his own drunken cry and lifted a chair, only to realise that, instead of manly strength, the concoction had left his entire body covered in a hardy and flexible wood. He paused for a moment, confused and obviously disappointed by this development... he laughed, shrugged, and hefted his chair out a nearby window. The glass shattered just as someone else was struck by a bowl of Coleslaw.
Once food had been identified as legal riot currency, some spicey pigeon quickly and forcefully found it's way into one of the heretofore outraged ladies' bodices, the latter, furious, promptly throwing a fistful of custard at the offender. From this moment forth, there was neither sane nor sensible soul in the holding. The rough and muscular Dane, Olaf (or Arnoulf?), soon appeared in the room's doorway, where he was instantly borne to the floor and pummelled by a maniacal Sir William. This proved a catalyst of sorts, for it turns out this warrior was something of a Berserker! So he bit Sir Williams hand broke the poor Lord's nose with his forehead. Sir William let fly a fearsome roar, and beat the man harder, their tussle spilling them both, bloody and brilliant, out the door and into the courtyard. A large crowd grew and cheered, watching as this primal display grew bloodier and more hilarious. Smiling quietly to myself, I poured another glass and trotted after the chaos.
Everyone who wasn't engaged in their own mischief was enjoying the wrestling, which had gotten completely out of hand... there is blood and drink flying everywhere.. at one point this Berserker was ramming the lord's face into the cobblestones as Sir William struck repeatedly at his Danish Saddlebags. Both were grinning uncontrollably, Olaf between winces and William through a rictus of blood and sweat. Utter madness. The wooden-chaplain had started an impromptu betting ring. He met my gaze through the crowd and smiled broadly. I took the opportunity to be insulted. No, dear reader, there was no reason for this save pure joy. I throw my shirt aside and charge through the gentlefolk! Coins and tickets burst into the air as I wrestle the Timberly Fellow to the ground, smiling and smushing his face with cold mashed potato.
At some point in our little match, several of the menagerie toward the back of the crowd spontaneously fall asleep... No-one cares, obviously. It was uh... rather grand though. One of them fell so hard that she shattered her nose on the pavement. Hah! Such fun. Whilst distracted by this I.. uhh... I don't precisely know what happened, dear reader. Suffice to say, I ended up wrestling the Lord William himself. Both of us were covered in blood, food and laughter. The old man was incredibly strong (potion? Note to self – investigate) but my training with the People's Peace Corps of Feierland County (PPCFC), and my time wrestling with Ronian Crocodilliers put me in good stead.
I cracked half a dozen eggs on the good lord's face, and whilst reaching for some more I saw the lustful Dane brutalising the poor chaplain. Brutalising, I say, and I promise you the word is not an exaggeration. I strongly feel that his wooden countenance was the only thing that let him keep his eyes that night. Noble and loveable reader: The cheers were deafening.
May I say here, that if the cheers were defeaning, the screams they turned into were positively unbearable... for as I stuffed a housecat into William's mouth, some unholy and Smokey Demon casually tore the arms off of That Diabolical Minstrel of Story Stealing Morality! Hah! Wonderful! A hilarious and suitably stressful demise for that despicable knave. Bloody and covered in potato, I roll off Sir William, springing to my feet. The Horror-Thing is eviscerating the guests. Details are sketchy, for I was afflicted by alcohol and adrenaline both, and for this vagueness I must apologise... But the Demon's victims.. well.. there is not much to bury, I am sorry to say. Apparently this creature was called 'Satan', or so I gathered from several of the guests (Fleeing and screaming his terrible name as they were). Without jest, It was a horrible and cruel beast... Relishing in the blood it shed and the lives it ended. It was, quite simply, violent.
Naturally, drunken and unclothed as I was, I rushed into the beast and boxed it. It's claws were rending at my flesh and soul, and it gave as good as it took... I stuck him with a right as he ripped at my face... I slipped a reaching talon and landed a short uppercut to it's fiendish chin... The battle raged! Our struggle trashed much of the courtyard, and I paid for each stumble with a slicing claw or firey breath. In the end though, my accurate handwork and skillful movement proved too much for this Satan-beast.
The demon forced a clinch, rending my shoulder with it's teeth... Undeterred, I ripped hook after hook into it's failing body.. My shoulder ached, but after these crushing blows, Satan crumbled... the smokey shambler dropped to it's knees, crippled by pain and groaning a filthy, inhuman groan. I drove a bloody knee into The Despicable Beast's face, and so ended The Thing. It slowly dissipated, filling the courtyard with repugnant smoke and leaving nought but a pile of sulphurous ash. Victory!!!
I cheered triumphantly, but none cheered with me, for they were all dead or fleeing. Olaf was apparently and gleefully tieing the Chaplain to the ceiling. I stood, arms raised, but a little sad that something so unbearable as this 'Satan' character could spoil such fun... Without warning, I was grasped from my back and dishonourably suplex'd to the ground by a seemingly rejuvenated Sir William! That squirrelly rogue! Three curses on his devious tactics!! Our struggle resumed! Blows were struck and positions changed to and fro... but, much as I wish otherwise, I honestly could not tell you who won, dear reader! The drink has gotten the best of me this day, for all I remember was waking up to a delicious breakfast of Eggs and fruit. Oh Adia!
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
FROM THE JOURNAL OF ALEXANDER MANNING part 1
FROM THE JOURNAL OF ALEXANDER MANNING
- The Bouttreaux Incident: Part 1 -
So! It has become startlingly apparent that these dreams I've been having of a wondrous, almost Feierlandic Castle name “Boutrreaux” are, in fact, real. I had thought they were a dream, for the week that I had spent there had introduced me to some wonderfully quirky and highly entertaining Noblepeople. Marvellous! I appreciated their generous offers of drink and accommodation as much as their recognition of my nobility. Equally pleasantly, my natural charm and strange tales had My Sexy Zimbabwean Wife Adia and me entertaining various Noble Ladies in particularly intimate ways. The majority of my Multiversal Manipulations have been assuredly horrible, thus it took some convincing for me to believe this part to be anything more than a nice dream.
But I ramble, and a dream it most certainly was not! For one morning, after another Adventure-Dream-Horror, I entered the dining room to find none other than that unscrupulous clothman, Uggs, standing smartly in the opposite doorway! Wearing robes! That pompous fiend! We exchanged a masculine embrace and shared stories of our travels and fortunes. He had informed the butler of our friendship and gained lodging in this exceedingly fun holding. During this conversation I learned, happily, that some stalwart midget had arrived, leading a wagon full of wine no less! A boon from The King Of Turns! O, what a glorious time! I immediately resolved to hold a party.
Tired from his undoubtedly arduous journey, Uggs retired to his room whilst I set about preparations for the revelry. I had My Persian Boy, Abu gather My Sexy Zimbabwean Wife Adia and some of the ingredients from my room... I took them to the kitchen, where I ordered the Castle Cuisiniers, under supervision of my lovely wife, to prepare a warm and exotic feast for the household and its patrons. Also they were to add wine and spirits to anything that could handle them.
Shortly before dinner, everyone is seated. There is enough wine to drown a rock and the wonderful and exotic scents of the food waft gently into the hall on a pleasant breeze. Everyone had a certain energy, all full of joy and excitement, like puppies... I can only assume they were full of the life of a pregnant moon! Earnest conversations spread liveliness and mirth through all present.
The wine starts to flow, and laughter with it. A variety of breathtaking meals were served, the warmth of the spice and the curiousness of the flavours amplified the joy in the room (My thanks to Adia, who looked positively radiant in her new jewellery). The table is cleared and replaced (by who, if I recall, might have been Elsa? From the Desert? Strange times) with more wine... and a little something I had been saving for precisely then. Mightily, I swept aside some glasses and tossed my Polyhedral Potioncube upon the table. Conversations halted and gasps preceded my words. I bade all heed, and told them of the dangerous and mystical floating desert of Sanctum, above Unity: the Kingdom of Faerie Elves. I shared a tale of the dragon that flew me there and the Fae Queen that gifted me his use. I regaled the strange culture and sinister surrounds of a sun-drenched town and the swarthy merchant from which I bargain'd this brilliant artifact. I told them of it's previous owner (the tinker's own brother), and of the joys and power it brought this long parted Adventurer. I finished the tale with how this cube, bringer of liquid gifts and taker of precious lives, ended up being the story of this Desert Man - the story of his life and his tragic death.
I paused. I rolled the prism. Gesturing to the vial which now sat atop it, I dared this drunken, energised rabble to drink of the thing! To trust in The Three to reward their courage! “Fortune favours the brave”, I bellowed! My Persian Boy Abu handed me the first potion, and I quaffed it with a flourish! Jaws hung open and all eyes watched me. There I stood, the magic coursing through me.... The silence in the room was beautiful.
Gentle reader, if ye taketh offence to profanity I implore thee to turn-page... For only the profane doth verily capture events from said evening. A Party To End All Parties. Kind reader, take thy seat and make preparations, for I continue this tale from the quaffing of that first potion...
Ladies and Gentlefolk, I must share the truth of that night. Please trust me when I tell you:
Shit got crazy.
_________________
More to follow ;)
- The Bouttreaux Incident: Part 1 -
So! It has become startlingly apparent that these dreams I've been having of a wondrous, almost Feierlandic Castle name “Boutrreaux” are, in fact, real. I had thought they were a dream, for the week that I had spent there had introduced me to some wonderfully quirky and highly entertaining Noblepeople. Marvellous! I appreciated their generous offers of drink and accommodation as much as their recognition of my nobility. Equally pleasantly, my natural charm and strange tales had My Sexy Zimbabwean Wife Adia and me entertaining various Noble Ladies in particularly intimate ways. The majority of my Multiversal Manipulations have been assuredly horrible, thus it took some convincing for me to believe this part to be anything more than a nice dream.
But I ramble, and a dream it most certainly was not! For one morning, after another Adventure-Dream-Horror, I entered the dining room to find none other than that unscrupulous clothman, Uggs, standing smartly in the opposite doorway! Wearing robes! That pompous fiend! We exchanged a masculine embrace and shared stories of our travels and fortunes. He had informed the butler of our friendship and gained lodging in this exceedingly fun holding. During this conversation I learned, happily, that some stalwart midget had arrived, leading a wagon full of wine no less! A boon from The King Of Turns! O, what a glorious time! I immediately resolved to hold a party.
Tired from his undoubtedly arduous journey, Uggs retired to his room whilst I set about preparations for the revelry. I had My Persian Boy, Abu gather My Sexy Zimbabwean Wife Adia and some of the ingredients from my room... I took them to the kitchen, where I ordered the Castle Cuisiniers, under supervision of my lovely wife, to prepare a warm and exotic feast for the household and its patrons. Also they were to add wine and spirits to anything that could handle them.
Shortly before dinner, everyone is seated. There is enough wine to drown a rock and the wonderful and exotic scents of the food waft gently into the hall on a pleasant breeze. Everyone had a certain energy, all full of joy and excitement, like puppies... I can only assume they were full of the life of a pregnant moon! Earnest conversations spread liveliness and mirth through all present.
The wine starts to flow, and laughter with it. A variety of breathtaking meals were served, the warmth of the spice and the curiousness of the flavours amplified the joy in the room (My thanks to Adia, who looked positively radiant in her new jewellery). The table is cleared and replaced (by who, if I recall, might have been Elsa? From the Desert? Strange times) with more wine... and a little something I had been saving for precisely then. Mightily, I swept aside some glasses and tossed my Polyhedral Potioncube upon the table. Conversations halted and gasps preceded my words. I bade all heed, and told them of the dangerous and mystical floating desert of Sanctum, above Unity: the Kingdom of Faerie Elves. I shared a tale of the dragon that flew me there and the Fae Queen that gifted me his use. I regaled the strange culture and sinister surrounds of a sun-drenched town and the swarthy merchant from which I bargain'd this brilliant artifact. I told them of it's previous owner (the tinker's own brother), and of the joys and power it brought this long parted Adventurer. I finished the tale with how this cube, bringer of liquid gifts and taker of precious lives, ended up being the story of this Desert Man - the story of his life and his tragic death.
I paused. I rolled the prism. Gesturing to the vial which now sat atop it, I dared this drunken, energised rabble to drink of the thing! To trust in The Three to reward their courage! “Fortune favours the brave”, I bellowed! My Persian Boy Abu handed me the first potion, and I quaffed it with a flourish! Jaws hung open and all eyes watched me. There I stood, the magic coursing through me.... The silence in the room was beautiful.
Gentle reader, if ye taketh offence to profanity I implore thee to turn-page... For only the profane doth verily capture events from said evening. A Party To End All Parties. Kind reader, take thy seat and make preparations, for I continue this tale from the quaffing of that first potion...
Ladies and Gentlefolk, I must share the truth of that night. Please trust me when I tell you:
Shit got crazy.
_________________
More to follow ;)
Monday, March 12, 2012
Farley the Dwarf's drunken rant
"About a week back some godforsakenly ugly one eyed zealot came round the blue rabbit looking to break free one of his comrades from prison. Some cleric had a run in with the sister of the lady of the lord and was now locked up in castle Bouttreaux. He was looking to assault the castle. At first I thought, this fool is gonna get a bunch of folk killed. What was there to gain going on a suicide mission? Why not sneak in? Hell, don't know why you'd bother if you couldn't loot the place... wait a minute. Did he say castle?"
"Half a plan started formulating as I introduced myself to the zealot. Uggs, a self proclaimed man of negotiable faith, brought me in to his group, where I met his companions Elsa, a not so trustworthy looking archer, and Alexander Manning, an explorer of some sorts. The guy might've been crazy, but he had a knack for finding folks willing to rush of to their doom and we were soon joined by an aspiring magic user named Rellyck, and Rubro a traveler with fists like steel. Before our first meeting I had my henchmen buddy go on a stake out to see if I could turn this half a plan into something worth the time."
"The castle was not so heavily guarded, and Buddy managed to get a solid enough list of who was who staying in the castle with that I proposed to Uggs a little side venture in route to breaking out his friend. The plan was simple but needed some work. First those of us who were new to the area would gain the trust of the Lady Susan and the Priest of the castle to determine where the prisoner was located, and more importantly the existence of any loot."
"Elsa proved to be resourceful, not only getting the priest to spill the location of the prisoner, but bedding the Lady Susan and gaining admittance into the castle itself. Alexander took a similar route and easily wooed her sister, Chezmerelda becoming a welcomed guest at the castle. They were able to locate the loot, and pass on that information while I went around town ensuring we were properly equipped for the heist. The next day I arranged a meeting with the great wizard James so I could work on getting myself and Rellyck into the castle before the heist as well."
"I've had a few trade deals with James and he's always seemed like a wizard of great wealth. Rellyck would be our inside man, and I introduced him to James as being a magic user looking for an apprenticeship. Rellyck was not trusted right away unfortunately but sent on a quest by James to procure magic unknown before he could begin his apprenticeship. Either way we had an in as I scheduled to personally deliver a giant marble and ivory globe and solid silver giant gecko head in exchange for a magical item to Castle Bouttreaux in just two days time. By the time I got back Uggs had already worked out a way to bring in the rest of the crew."
"Posing as a high ranking cleric, Uggs bought a fancy carriage, and acolyte clothing for both Rubro and Buddy who would act as his bodyguards. The morning of the delivery they arrived to the castle to visit his "old friend" Alexander Manning. By the time I arrived all the pieces were in place."
"Along with my delivery, I ensured I had more than enough ale to get a party started, and hidden aboard more than enough bombs should something go wrong. Having an ale with James as the sun began to set I let the guards know that drinks was on me. Soon enough the Lord broke out his wine reserves and the party began to rage in the great hall. While I worked on getting the inhabitants of Castle Bouttreaux nice and stinking drunk, Alexander began passing around and drinking out of some sort of cube. Next thing you know the Lord starts smashing stuff yelling that he hasn't felt this young in years, and so I pass him another mug of ale and start thrashing the hall alongside him."
"Suddenly a brawl breaks out between the Lord and one of Jame's bodyguards spilling out into the courtyard. Everyone starts cheering and the whole hall goes outside to witness the most epic wrestling match I've seen. In the crowd I run into Uggs who wants to move now. Looking around in the surrounding chaos the party got way more wild than I expected it to, so quickly I ran to the carriage and brought sleep bombs up to Rubro and Buddy and let them know it's time to start looting."
"Not sure what happened next as when I ran back outside to assist Uggs something came over me and heavily I fell asleep. Last thing I saw was Alexander punching out some treeman in priests clothing. You probably heard the rest of the story same as I did from the nobles the next morning. Beautiful thing is they did not suspect a single one of us, as some time after I lost consciousness Satan himself showed to the party and took the rap for the whole thing."
Monday, March 5, 2012
Found this posted on the door #2
Calling all FLAILSNAILS:
Renard is offering a 5 gp bounty for each live goblin captured.
12 gp for mated pairs.
Rates negotiable for other humanoids.
Also seeking experienced men-at-arms to train goblin children as torchbearers, porters, and soldiers.
Finally, we're looking for investors! If you want to join the OSR's fastest-growing humanoid plantation/sweatshop/hireling labor service, now is the time to get in on the ground floor!
Renard is offering a 5 gp bounty for each live goblin captured.
12 gp for mated pairs.
Rates negotiable for other humanoids.
Also seeking experienced men-at-arms to train goblin children as torchbearers, porters, and soldiers.
Finally, we're looking for investors! If you want to join the OSR's fastest-growing humanoid plantation/sweatshop/hireling labor service, now is the time to get in on the ground floor!
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Sad news from The Blue Rabbit
Bite the Bugbear died tonight in the Hill Cantons. Plummeting to his death 600 feet below when the rusty chain snapped in the old outdoor elevator that was carrying him to scout a lower level. The body was unable to be recovered.
A wake will be held this Friday at dusk.
All FLAILSNAILS PCs are welcome, and any wishing to to leave heroic or fearsome words about this vicious henchmen are encouraged to do so.
In lieu of flowers his close clan mates, Stinky and Hairy, encourage PCs to bring goats to be slaughtered or enemies to be burned on a pyre. As is tradition among his people.
Kindly,
The Management of the Blue Rabbit/Le Lapin Bleu
PS
Father Jack has been so kind as to provide a homily on this most sad of days.
The prices of drinks also have been declared half off for the night.
Those bringing an enemy to through on the pyre or a goat to slaughter will get their first 2 drinks on the house.
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