Monday, 1 April 2019
LotFP Solo - Part the Sixty-third: "Bright Lights, Big Dungeon"
Finally getting back to the adventure. Whilst the rest of her companions have business of their own to see to in Ildmarch, Lycinia must run 'a little errand' (sidequest) for the mage's guild.
Chaos: totally increasing to Madness (d6)
Setup: It's Six A.M. Do You Know Where You Are...?
NPC list: Chad (Lycinia's dealer), Orezthía the Awesome (M-U 9), Bobby the revenant, Iohannes Slash, Lisa Neonshield (dwarf valley girl), Haroldus Immundus (city watch, ftr5), Tootie
Threads: learn breakdance moves, save orphanage
You are not the kind of elf who would be in a random encounter like this at this time of the morning. But here you are, and you cannot say that the hexmap is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy. You are at a tavern talking to a dwarf with a shaved head. The tavern is either Ye Broken Heart or the Lounging Lizardman. All might come clear if you could just slip into the bathroom and cast Comprehend Languages. Then again it might not. A small voice inside you insists that this epidemic lack of clarity is a result of too much purple lotus. The night has already turned on that imperceptible pivot where the Turn tracker starts over. You know this moment has come and gone, but you are not yet willing to concede that you have crossed the line beyond which all is gratuitous hit point damage and the palsy of failed saving throws. Somewhere back there you could have cut your losses, but you rode past that moment on a comet trail of purple powder and now you are trying to hang on to the rush. Your brain at this moment is composed of 2d10 tiny orc soldiers [AC 6, HD 1, MV 9", #AT 1, Dmg 1-6, SA Nil, SD Nil, AL LE]. They are tired and muddy from their long march through the night. There are holes in their boots and they are at -1 to hit. They need to be fed. They need the purple lotus. A vaguely Isle of Dread flavor to this scene — pendulous jewelry, face paint, ceremonial headgear and hair styles. You feel that there is also a certain Underdark theme — something more than the aboleth cruising your bloodstream and the fading buzz of shriekers in your brain. You are leaning back against a post that may or may not be structural with regard to the building, but which feels essential to your own maintenance of an upright position. The bald dwarf is saying this used to be a good place to come before the halflings discovered it. You don't want to be talking to this bald dwarf, or even listening to her, which is all you are doing, but just now you do not want to test the powers of speech or cast Invisibility. How did you get here? It was your party member, Emirikol the Chaotic, who powered you in here, and he has disappeared. Emirikol is the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. He is either your best self or your worst self or a doppleganger, you're not sure which. Earlier in the evening it seemed clear that he was your best self. You started on the Upper East Side with mead and unlimited prospects, strictly observing the Chaotic rule of perpetual motion: one tankard per stop. Emirikol's mission in life is to gain more levels than anyone else in Greyhawk, and this involves a lot of moving around, since there is always the likelihood that the monsters where you aren't have more treasure than the ones where you are. You are awed by his strict refusal to acknowledge any goal higher than the pursuit of XP. You want to be like that. You also think he is shallow and dangerous. His retainers are all rich and spoiled, like the henchman from Blackmoor you met earlier in the evening who would not accompany you below Fourteenth Street because, he said, he wasn't still a Basic Set character. This henchman had a girlfriend with Charisma to break your heart, and you knew she was the real thing when she steadfastly refused to acknowledge your presence. She possessed secrets — about islands, about horses, about non-weapon proficiencies — that you would never know.
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Just kidding. I'm still working on the game conversion over to BRP. Using the BGB (Big Golden Book, the 400 page rules compilation) & deciding amongst all its options plus other rules from monographs & stand-alone games has proved to be more complicated than I had expected. It's going to be worth it in the end, but it is rather reminding me why I usually play games as written and keep tinkering and house rules to an absolute minimum...