Homebrew tabletop system- playtesters requested

[Norade]

Looking to the female trickster Safrac asks, "Would it be worth letting the gholem see him and try to help, or did you manage to cover anything before contacting us?"

He'd really rather be getting his lance reformed, sending Parrol out to collect the two who are out and getting settled in with the church, but he won't simply let an ally rot for lack of time. However he also realizes that he'll end up needing more and more time to deal with things as the situation grows worse, that he'll have to make even tougher choices, delegate things that he feels no leader should. He clears the thoughts as the jester speaks again.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

From the top, yes; that could be done, the equivalent of thaumaturgial microsurgery- it would not be easy, or pleasant, or for that matter particularly likely to leave the person the way they started- but it could be done, in an emergency.

'I think I convinced his body not to give up.' The jester says. 'I can't heal, all I can really do is bluff, but what that could achieve, I did- we should have longer, anyway. It's a chest wound, a couple of his lower ribs are splintered, any real healing would be- oh, wow. You're very wierd.' she says to the gholem. 'If you can help, please do.'

'We're all going.' Mathilde decides. 'These tunnels sound like something I ought to know about- and there have been so many nasty surprises today, it's about time I essayed one of my own.'


Character development and stuff; as fast as you like, basically- I'm not working to a script or anything like it, I'm going off what is in the background and what the characters throw at me.


Oh, yes; if a fever and a dodgy gut don't stop me, I'll be spending the weekend in a field again, somewhere in the vicinity of Liverpool- I think. If the place I think I'm going to is actually the right place. Society major, re- enacting Brunanburh, a battle about which damn all is really known so this should be entertaining. Ending up in the wrong town entirely might be quite appropriate.

[Master_Baerne]

The elf moves straight into the explanation, with grisly cheerfulness; 'I'm not the first person to have been inside your head. Someone tried to give you a set of false memories and a synthetic personality- turn you into a political pawn. We think you escaped before they were finished, but considering the subtlety of the work there could be many layers of deception.

I can give you a portrait, a name and a rough location for your mother and brother; no other family that I found. In all probability you have reverted to the last coherent set of memories and abilities you had- a minor thief and con artist. Some of your known associates in your past life, again, description and name, location, identifying marks, modus operandi.

Inside your head my own mind wandered onto the subject of charges to be brought very readily, I can assure you; how you got involved in this is hazier, but at a guess you defrauded someone who noticed that you would be ideal for their purposes.

You were intended to be moulded into something that could convincingly be presented as a missing heir, a by-blow of some high nobleman of the land; to what is less clear- but the amount of effort and money your abductors spent on you makes it unlikely this is over. Even if you did, legitimately, escape as we are intended to believe. The safest place for you to hide may actually be at the centre of the vortex of another crisis.'

"Um," Valette says eloquently. "Anyone who can do that to my mind is not someone I want to meet, ever. Sign me up for this crisis-management team."

[Norade]

Safrac, new to the city, was of course not aware of the tunnels, so as they wind through him he attempts to make a mental map. The system seems to be rather large, enough that a group or two could be based down here and they'd likely never even spot them. Of course the side paths could all end just out of sight too for all he knows.

When the group finally seem close to where de Andorra was laying wounded the orc turns to the construct and says, "Just try your best to feel how he wants to go back together and I'm sure you'll do fine."

[Kheitain]

The gholem lopes along, underground isn't so bad, it's rather feral down here.

When they find de Andorra the gholem scoops him up gently as possible and moves back the way they came. Seeing the confused looks he flatly states, " I'm weak, I don't feel good here, I need to be outside. I need a human, one that doesn't need it's body anymore so I can look how this one is supposed to go." With that he walks upright carrying the human (I think de Andorroa was human?) in both arms back to the entrance of the sewers.

[Vehrec]

"And I imagine they'll want their wounds stitched so the scars are the kind you can show off and not the kind that make you an outcast. I'm coming with you." Randolf pinches the bridge of his nose before nodding his head. "Gods know I'm in this up to my neck already, might as well take the plunge and start swimming." The fact that it will also help her hold together is officially a side-note in this affair.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Back, recovered, and my condolences to any of the EBC who happen to live in south Liverpool; nice country, shame about the locals- high chav concentration. The eight year olds trying to steal arrows to stab each other with were a particularly worrying touch.

Anyway,

Baerne and Vehrec, Caranthir says primarily to Valette 'Street survival is something all the versions of you should be good at- I'd recommend you to hurry and catch up to Dame Mathilde, Sir Safrac and the gholem.' He smiles faintly. 'This business has my interest. I think I will follow it from the other end- identify the perpetrator and try to crack the scheme. It would be as well for you not to be too close to me while I'm doing that, I'll keep an eye on you, from a distance.'

'Wouldn't it help to-' Aburon starts to say, and Caranthir nods, and finishes the sentence. 'give Dame Mathilde the impression that you're running away from me, that you fear I might be somehow involved? Get her protection? It's about the best use that can be made of this debacle, I think.

She'd never believe me, but I do like her and have no intention of counting her as an enemy; she actually reminds me of her great- great-grandmother. Which she wouldn't thank you for saying. She is suspicious of me, counts me as an enemy, and from a certain point of view she might be right.' He is obviously intending to leave.

'I know how to keep in touch with you at least,' he adds to the druid, 'look after them.' He turns to go.

'Right, we'll cover you most of the way- she doesn't think any more fondly of me, at least didn't before and damn' sure won't now.' the druid says.


Norade, Kheitain; the jester leads you in- most of Matilde's retinue behind, she's moving almost noiselessly, they are clattering a bit. There are a number of side paths, partially collapsed chambers that would originally have been dug into the side of the hill, sealed doors- some choked with dust, some showing signs of more recent movement.

It's not that this is particularly neat; the jester leads you to a blank wall, then shyly admits she used one of her own divine gifts to get out- she made an imaginary door in the wall. There isn't actually a passage in. 'This is going to make noise, isn't it?' Mathilde realises. 'No alternative. Batter the wall down, heal him as best you can then follow me.'

It's not as if the actual demolition job is particularly challenging; there are enough of you with enough suitable weapons and no resistance, and nobody's incompetent enough to accidentally swing their hammer into somebody else's face. It does make noise and raise dust, though.

As the dust clears, it seems you're all in a crypt, half a dozen raise slabs that Mathilde looks at and shivers- before realising there's no body there. 'What happened? If this is a joke-'

'It is but it's not mine.' the jester gabbles. 'This-' she holds up a pale green rose with a note attached to it. 'He's been miracled.' It's in Authrani, which Safrac at least can read, and it is a riddle. "What is everywhere it isn't, and everything it cannot be?" 'The answer is a chimera.' she says. 'My god has taken him into safekeeping.' She sounds genuinely awed.

Mathilde is refusing to take time to think about this- she will, later, but for the moment she says 'About time I offered the same opportuinty to Dame Theresa, then- let's go.'

[Norade]

The knight tries to keep track of all the paths, but he gives up after a short while and then turns himself to the task of making a new way to where de Andorra should be waiting. It's quick, if nosy and slightly tiring work, and when the smoke clears it appears they've been tricked until their guide picks up a note. Reading over her shoulder he sees the riddle, but doesn't put the answer together before the jester spells it out. It was a waste of time, but its time he would waste again if it meant saving a friend.

Turning around quickly he starts to follow the Jester out and as they walk he asks, "How real can you make your illusions? For example, can you make a particular du Lauloy seem a bit less and another a bit more in a debate?"

[Master_Baerne]

Valette thanks Caranthir and the druid profusely and heads off to find the others.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Norade, the jester (whose name I honestly can't remember, I'll have to look it up) says to Safrac, 'At the moment, I'm honestly not sure. I could never have done that.' she gestures at the empty slab. 'I can mess with his mind, warp his thinking, if he's not actually there do phantoms of him, I could manage that, but whether I can do them well enough...

the Chief of the Gods has no sense of humour, and several powers that are basically for the purpose of figuring out if someone is trying to affect your mind; du Lauloy's a fool but he's not an idiot, he must be at least a bit capable, I might be able to pull it off but only if he was distracted.'

That option established, Mathilde motions you to wait, then makes a complicated rolling- hands gesture that seems to be of magical significance; you can hear what are supposed to be a deceptive version of your own footsteps proceeding ahead, round the corner, and then there is the scraping sound of stone on stone, and a loud, damp "whooph" of fire.

'Alchemical grenades, hm? She is playing it dirty. This is evidently going to be a freestyle duel.' Mathide says. 'Who can, follow me.' and she reaches up, blasts a gout of silver light into the stone roof of the pasage you're in- which also happens to be the floor of one of the passages of the temple. It is shoved aside, and she leaps, grabs the edge of the gap she's just made and pulls herself up.

Safrac only makes it on the second attempt, by ewhich point blades have already been drawn- Mathilde is squaring off against Theresa, and their retinues are trying to find space to do the same. You're in an internal corridor, about eight feet across, with larged arched doors off it in several places.


Baerne, Vehrec; assuning you're still together, you and Aburon and Hara get to the front gate of the temple essentially just as that happens.

[Norade]

The orc after managing to make the tough jump sees them squaring off in a large hallway and he quickly frees his hammer and looks over to Theresa's followers. He thinks that Mathilde should have the upper hand in this matter, being the wiser and less rash of them, but de Andorra was no pushover and from the tale told he was simply no match. He knows little of the churches ways just yet, but if Theresa is going to 'free style' this duel he wonders how he might be able to aid in ensuring his side wins. Yet any real plans will only come after the battle starts and he can determine that his skills won't be needed to save his own hide.

[Kheitain]

Why are we fighting again? How do they know the humans above were doing anything wrong? These people are obviously mad, particularily that Mathilde one the gholem surmises.

Nonetheless he lays the body down gently as possible and flexes his various stone plates, making sure they've refitted properly and the sharp ones are sharp. Toying with an idea while Safrac struggles to make the jump the gholem tries reshaping the stone plate covering his right fist into a small dagger-like blade. He now has a punch-dagger in addition to his regular spikes.

For a moment the gholem ponders why he's even bothering, these people are interesting but it would be alot nicer to just go and find another swath of forest to revitalise. Stubborness wins out in the end, this place should be returned to the natural world, the people will figure it out. Or kill each other. The gholem stamps his feet and makes the leap up into the hall.

[Vehrec]

When Randolf arrives at the scene, he leans over against the side of the building and looks around. "Well, this is interesting, but the context is all a bit foggy to me. I became a doctor to keep out of the clergy and politics, so this all feels a bit surreal, running around in the middle of these affairs." Quiet and contemplative for a moment as he watches, he wonders if his brother or father might be better suited for this than he is. he's not stepping in on the fight-his powers aren't good enough to stop it cold, and he really has no motivation here to aid or hinder any side other than a general feeling that this is completely the wrong thing to do in this situation.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Vehrec, the druid says to Randolf 'It's quite simple really, if you think like an absolute bastard, or can at least pretend to for the purposes of working out what the other side is up to...I'd have like to have spent more time talkng to Caranthir to be sure of his take on things, he's much better at that. Or, for that matter'- and he looks as if this is just occurring to him- 'like a surgeon.

If you look at who died and who lived, and who looks like being next, I think there is a pattern, and that pattern is basically heroic surgery being conducted on the body politic. Break the old order, kill the old lords and leaders, let new people emerge for a new round of the great game. Amputate the foul old mangled tissue, and regenerate- and to be brutally honest there's a lot in that I agree with. I was never a big fan of the old Count and his law.

There are going to be a hell of a lot of people scrambling to be king of the rubble heap, and damaging each other on the way, and part of that is happening here. The process needs somebody who doesn't like it involved, though; the sort of person who gets their jollies out of that is the sort who ought to be stopped at all costs. I strongly suspect that our job'- meaning primarily himself and Hara- 'is going to be making sure the right people win.'

There is a dull 'whump' sound, and the orc says 'Well, somebody's going to need a healer. Twice. First to fix them then again after I beat some sense into them. We going in?'

'Moral blackmail again?' the druid says with mock indignation.

'You do it to yourself really.' the orc points out.

'Suppose so- come on then.'

They, at least, shove open the heavy main doors and enter the building.

The first few moments of the actual fight, Theresa has a bandage wrapped around one arm, and is obviously on some fairly potent alchemy to keep her upright and effective; she comes in fancy, twirling her blade, flashing it in the torchlight, making it dance and generally looking like she intends to win with style. Mathilde, on the other hand, is definitely and simply out for blood.

Theresa's flashy, twirling moves are simply battered aside, she's lucky not to lose her weapon and even luckier not to be impaled as Mathilde charges her and closes her down. She leaps back and resorts to magic, Sword and Shield being one of the powers of the goddess- flourishes her blade so it spawns imagos of itself which animate, and vaults away to the point where she's standing on one of the walls, relying on Mobility. Mathilde can do that at least as well- smashes three of the imagos out of the air and pursues.

[Norade]

Safrac watches the battle very closely almost as if trying to see how the magic is done. Fighting hand to hand and with a bow he knows, riding he knows, but magic is something new and elusive. If he thought on it he would realize that he knows enough to know that this sort of thinking will only limit his growth in the areas of magic, yet his military training gets in the way. Getting past that though the orc may find that his creativity can take over and he can simply do instead of trying to do.

Even with his eyes looking for something not entirely there the knight can see that it looks like Theresa will surely lose the duel. She is wounded already and her moves are flashy and for intimidation, or maybe it's simply a show to end things with some sort of style. In any case it is clear Mathilde has the upper hand matching the most stunning flourish with simple and effective strikes and following the others movements with no more effort than it took the other to make them. Yet matching isn't what Safrac is wanting, he wants to see and end, one small victory of the many needed before the end.

To this end, not knowing what magic he has left after his mad dash, he mouths a silent pray the Goddess, no ritual, no flowery tongue, he simply says, "Take of me what energy you will, channel what little I can do to Mathilde so that she might be a little quicker, a little more agile." As he mouths these words he tries to will the magic to flow from him to her, offering what aid he can.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Sorry about the delay-

Actually, chances are Safrac has been up against it- at least in wargames and exercises- more than a few times. We are looking at the very least bastard feudalism, here; states and systems of governance more than capable of producing large, regular, professional armies.

The old knightly orders still exist and still matter because with the possibility of magic on the battlefield, and in the council chamber, quality is a far better guarantee of resistance than quantity. The professionals and militia of a mass army may be able to win physical fights by numbers and discipline, but the inner strength and dedication that make a true knight will carry the superior being, through the fire- literally if necessary- where ordinary rank and file would be torn apart.

That being said, this is still a relatively rare occurrence; most wizards aren't up to much in a face to face brawl, with a few notable exceptions (and one general exception to be made for the elves)- it usually is only the holy warriors, the devotees of one or other of the gods with an interest in warfare, who do close combat with magic.


As the druid and the orc push the doors open, and break into a run trying to unsling and string their bows as they go, I presume Valette and Randolf are following? It's easy enough to track the sound of the noise- more flash and crackle of magic than clash of blades, but there's a crowd, Mathilde and Theresa's peers- by no means all the followers of Krylanya are female, but a high proportion of female warriors do gravitate to her- and their subordinates and acolytes getting in the way.

Fortunately, they're both being acrobatic about this- fighting on the walls and ceiling as much as on the floor, partly to show off, partly to make full use of their gift, partly because Theresa's running and Mathilde's chasing her.

The actual odds of achieving anything meaningful in terms of magical support are not high; Safrac doesn't really know how to do this, how much the form and style of the thing even matters, he just opens his heart and hopes- and for a second it seems that something black and angry is looming at him, but then the clouds break (dice; the chances of this working were low- but the description was worth bonus points, the first roll was a twenty, critical failure, the reroll was a two.) and a wave of energy leaves him for Mathilde.

Theresa is not planning to play by the rules; not even such as actually exist. Two of her acolytes move to join the fight, and one readies a clay pot that looks unpromisingly nasty; there is the swish of arrows and both of them fall, one shot through the back of the head and killed instantly, one shot in the spine, and convulses, dropping the clay flask- and fortunately falling on top of it and muffling most of the blast and cloud of poisonous fumes.

People tend to back away after that- leaving the prime combatants to it. They cut and thrust at each other in a vicious running fight that actually moves out into the garden, and Safrac and the Gholem get there just in time to see Theresa try to summon the same bladeswarm, Mathilde close her down before she has a chance to command them, and shatters- deforming the blade to a blunt surface that fractures rather than a sharp cutting edge- Theresa's sword hand.

Theresa is backed up against a tree and trying to control her pain, Mathilde puts the point of her sword against Theresa's throat and says 'There's been a lot of killing tonight- I'm not sure whether I'm sick with it or if one more isn't going to make much difference. Is there any reason, any reason at all, we aren't better off without you?'

[Norade]

(Thanks for clearing that bit up. I'm not always entirely as clear on the fluff as I would be if I had the source material for the game in front of me. That said, I can't wait until I can get a copy.

I also love how the dice seem to agree with my crazy plans, though the amount of good succeeding did in this case is likely nil.)

Safrac's hoping works and after a frightening vision of a dark being bearing down on him, yet he doesn't allow his fear to stop him and the power of his will breaks through the clouds. Once that happens he can feel what little magic he had remaining leave his body. The feeling within now that he has no magic left is odd, it feels empty, like a void or an itch you can't quiet place to even start scratching. Somehow this feeling makes him want more magic so that he will never feel some empty again.

Even lost in introspection the knight watches as Mathilde chases Theresa around the hallway fighting in many places and putting on a show the likes of which even his training couldn't prepare him for. While they fight on the ceiling two of Theresa's followers step in and Safrac makes a move to stop them, yet before he can they sprout arrows and one falls on his own alchemical bombs smothering the effect considerably and surely making the funeral a closed casket event. Looking across the crowd he sees the druid and the female orc with bows up and ready and he gives a knowing nod. The crowd backs off a bit after this and Safrac returns his attention to the duel as it moves towards the courtyard.

Giving chase as best as he can the orc arrives just in time to see and hear the breaking of Theresa's wrist with a solid blow from Mathilde's manifested weapon. This should end the duel as the better combatant puts a blade to the defeated warriors throat. It could kill with the most minor movement and thus the high paladin has the luxury of asking questions of the defeated while deciding upon her fate.

Though it may not be his place to speak Safrac says, "What about a fate worse than death in some ways but not others? Say a change of form to make her a a fluffy animal that couldn't harm much more than a fly. That way you can display her for all to see and another death is avoided."

[Master_Baerne]

Valette is somewhere between frightened and inspired by the display of martial prowess. She can't help but wonder if, had she kept her original personality (whatever that might have been), she might have been able to accomplish something similar, instead of being limited to skulking about and making other people's possessions vanish.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

(Rules bit; augments and supports- basically, this works, you can use one skill to support another- it was somehting the players had to get used to though, because it ran on base eight. Still does, it would be backwards to adjust that to fit.

The thresholds of cost for learning skills used to be, earlier versions, a flat number regardless of attribute- a bonus equal to rounding to the nearest eight, passive, an active augment, taking an action to do so, can multiply that based on level of success- Safrac gave Mathilde an effective +3 to Mobility. Not negligible at all- and stacking augments is how some of the existing characters get their skill levels so high.)

The druid and the orc head for the garden also- Hara muttering "we can flee better from there"- and Aburon's hawk notices the look on Valette's face. He says says to her, as you all head (I presume- tell me if you're doing anything different) in the direction of the garden, 'Impressive, isn't it? Don't. I mean, you have enough problems with visions and voices in your head without inviting a deity in- and to be blunt Mathilde's the odd one out here, Theresa's normal as far as this lot usually go.'

They arrive in time to hear Safrac's suggestion, and the druid reacts interestingly; looks distinctly dubious at first, then spots something he likes about the idea, then tries not to let it show. Eventually he comes clean.

'I could do that,' he says to Mathilde, 'if you can stand the wrath of your patron over letting a representative of the old faith execute judgement for you. Personally, I'd suggest a penance, lumber her with some sort of binding vow and send her on a long pilgrimage somewhere.'

[Norade]

His knowledge of religion isn't what it could be so he had no idea that somebody of the old faith might anger a deity, nor did the idea of a binding vow even occur to him, yet as it is mentioned Safrac says, "Make the vow difficult in both letter and spirit, you don't want to leave her any room to wriggle free."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Where is everybody? The plot must flow. Anyway-


'Alternatively,' the druid grins, 'you could send her on pilgrimage as a small furry animal.'

'Whose side are you on?' Mathilde glares at him.

'Good question.' he says, apparently unruffled by it, unless you look really closely. 'We're going to need to talk about that.'

'Here will do.' she demands. 'I'm fed up with secret deals and backstairs agreements that daren't see the light of day. We do this openly.'

He mutters something, and she calls him on it. He repeats it more loudly, 'That's not what you would have said this time last year.'

'This time last year, you were a hunted outlaw.' Mathilde reminds him. 'Much has changed, hasn't it?'

'I was only a part time outlaw.' the druid protests, before pointing out 'You'd better sort her out.' Meaning Theresa.

'Hm. Right, you-' Mathilde pulls Theresa to her feet, and points her back into the building, evidently this is goign to be done in front of the altar. The druid sits down with his back toa tree, looks up into the night sky and says 'Oh, this is going to be fun.' to nobody in particular.

Who's going to watch the magic, who's talkign to whom, anybody doing anything odd?

[Norade]

Safrac is about ready to go to sleep in the garden but he wants to see this through so he follows along towards the altar. He's got a few questions to ask about magic, more questions about lodging and his healed man, but first things first. He ends up very close to the altar and waits to see the show.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

I'll be away over a long wekend thursday- sunday, might have internet access, might not, supposed to be packing now in fact, so this may have to be a bit abbreviated;

the rite itself is short and spectacular; one of the powers of the goddess, the key one here in fact, is Command, normally for the field of combat, and it is that which is going to be used to place an obligation on Theresa- but Mathilde refuses to do it in person.

'I never specialised in it, becuase it always felt like cheating. There were other ways to get someone to do my bidding,' she says posing slightly, 'and "just futtering do it", on a battlefield, is different from this- I can't, won't, hammer my will into a resisting mind in cold blood.'

So, essentially, they summon something that can and will. Now as a rules point, I use the terms "demon" and "angel" pretty much interchangeably- a servant of the gods, and whether it's a demon or an angel largely depends on whether you're on it's good side or not.

Three of the older priestesses form the circle, and Mathilde leads, 'Goddess, our sister has failed us, she has failed in comradeship and skill at arms, we would have her bound to redeem herself-' Mathilde's largely improvising, but the intricate formalism of the ritual circle is what makes it work. There are two very different styles here.

After only a few minutes, she steps back out of the cente of the circle and makes room for the being which starts to form. It- she- is larger than life size, about eight feet tall, a female warrior in blued plate armour with waist- length, flowing blood- red hair. She looks at mathilde and says 'That is not the only reason you call out to me. First, bring the errant forth.'

Theresa manages to move under her own power, and the angel places her hands on Theresa's head; there is little more to see than that, a bright bluish flash, and Theresa falls to the ground. 'Be changed.' the angel tells her. 'When you wake you will know what you must do.'

'What did you ask of her?' Mathilde says.

'To establish a holy symbol on the westernmost peak of the Icecrown Range.' The angel smiles, and well she may; that's five thousand miles away. Mathilde is slightly boggled. And it gets worse for her when the angel asks, 'And you, what penitential journey do you choose for yourself?'

Reflexively she answers 'To die in the service of the goddess.'

'The easy way out.' the angel snorts contemptuously. 'You have a great deal of living for the goddess to do before then. First you must carry out your plans for tonight. Then and most of all, deal with the druid. Win him as an ally if possible, destroy him if not- he, and the powers he represents, are your greatest rival in the long run.'

Mathilde bows and makes the holy sign, the angel vanishes. Who was where, anyone still out in the garden?

[Master_Baerne]

My sincerest apologies - I've only just got internet access back, and my brain's completely fried. I'll try to get something up as soon as possible.

[Norade]

The ritual seems to go smoothly and everything moves rather quickly leaving the knight satisfied until he hears that Mathilde will need to choose a penance for herself and upon hearing what it is his her skips a beat and he wonders why should choose such a fate. However the being doesn't seem to think it's that bad, rather laughing at it as an easy way out. This allows a soft sigh of relief and when he hears that she has much living to do he can feel a weight lift from his chest. After that it's all over and done with so he rises and heads to Mathilde's side.

Speaking in an obviously measured tone he asks, "Why were you forced into penance as well? You won the duel after all..."