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About this blog

This is an experimental D100 game involving three experienced players. The focus is to get back into roleplaying after a long hiatus now that our children have grown up and our lives are not as hectic

It could be set anywhere ..but just happens to be set in Santos. No-one yet knows where Santos is. We know its a biggish port town and has all manner of vice, corruption and willing participants who can't get enough of either. Its a narrative that just keeps expanding during game sessions. My only trouble is remembering to write down the products of my imagination.

I'll do a brief summary from my point of view as GM... its probably not how the players have seen it.. but all these things are subjective and its for fun

Entries in this blog

The End

Egil really had no memory of events since they had left The Green Man Gorge. He did, however, have lots of memories of the dreams he had been having and was able to recount all the dead family and friends who he had met while unconscious. He insisted on telling of his travels in a land of apples. Both Graphen and Darkon sat bleary eyed and exhausted. The events of the last week had removed all sparkle of life from both and they hadn’t had the benefit of some Goddess inspired healing. Darkon, in
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The Stone of Malloch

“Did you know berserkers’ strength and fighting ability can double or even treble but their cognitive abilities are equally reduced? The reason that not a lot of people know berserkers are as dangerous to their friends as to their enemies  is possibly because not many friends survive the experience and thus the information is not as widely disseminated as it should be,” said Graphen, “ have you ever heard of Aestoron of Eartfold? He had presented a paper expounding the Friend's theory to the 7th
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I love the smell of napalm in the morning...

The answer came fast. A cry of anger. A crunching and rending sound. And a noise of something heavy and large running through the undergrowth without much consideration for the shrubbery. The three men steadied themselves and set their weapons for the upcoming fight. The sweat on their faces gleamed in the watchfires light. Three against Jace were still uneven odds in Jace's favour. Any betting person would have not accepted odds in their favour.    Jace came into the camp firelight sw
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Ethical and Moral Dilemmas

"Hey, that’s our donkey," shouted Egil at no-one in particular. The entire caravan seemed to crane their necks to watch the rapidly approaching donkey. "Impressive," said Xanc, one of the drivers," Never seen a donkey that knows where its masters are."   Egil jumped down and secured Stove to the back of the wagon, kissing his ears and petting him.   "I see you haven't gelded him," said Xanc," My old grandad always said donkeys were happier gelded. Think I have my gelding
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Mysteries of tracking and the price of peeing

The weather turned rainy again with the odd thunderstorm that forced the trio to seek shelter from the forked lightening. The stream they walked beside became a torrent and they had to move away from the path they followed in case they were swept away by a sudden flood. This made the going slower as they had to pick their way through low scrub and bushes.    They were all becoming a little paranoid about encountered creatures or buildings now. Perhaps they were learning from experience
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Troll mind tricks

Stove had had enough. This crew had managed to fall into every trap that had been laid before them. As Egil ran to the Golden Cup in the middle of the bridge, Stove gathered himself and charged forward. He had a brief glimpse of Darkon and Graphen with mouths agape. As Egil bent down to retrieve the cup, Stove hit him squarely on the backside. Egil was propelled through the air and bouncing off the low parapet of the bridge, ricocheted and fell full length into a puddle of decaying vegetation. E
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Rabbits, Herbs and Insects

It had begun to rain heavily as they left the Green Gorge. The river they were following became a torrent by mid-afternoon and they began to fret about having to cross it. They were still too miserable to grumble much and the journey was mostly in silence. Toward evening the rain lessened and the clouds became less solid. They were looking for a place to camp for the night.   "No mounds," said Graphen," especially if we want a fire. And I need afire. But I’m not taking any chances that th
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It’s likely to go away

The trio sat cross legged at the mouth of the cave. They’d eaten food but that had only partially improved the mood. Deeper in the cave, Rooskin had been working with charcoal on a smooth wall, expanding a circular line of Runes that swirled and interlinked and were lit by the flickering lights of oil lamps. Darkon had puzzled over the Runes drawn on the wall. He followed them round the swirls until the Runes seemed to glow and enlarge in his mind and he felt his consciousness drift off. Fleetin
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It wasn't me..really

Egil was amazed. For the last two weeks he had struggled to get a fire lit. There had been lots of excuses. His flint wouldn't strike, the tinder was too wet, the wind was too strong etc, etc. Yet, in this place, on a cold damp, foggy night and on the first strike of the flint, the fire seemed to leap from the tinder in the pan to the small stack of wood. And then mysteriously from the small stack of wood to the nearby bush and then to another bush. And yet another. Soon the crown of the mound w
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Mist or Fog?

The rain began to fall heavier again as left the cottage behind, re-crossed the Rubicon River and made their way to the Green Man Gorge. Darkon, who had the map, struggled to keep them on course and they got frequently lost. Arguments about directions, whose turn it was to cook, clean the dishes and feed Stove got worse as the days went on. They were generally soaked with the rain, cold from the wind, tired because they hadn't slept and hungry because they struggled to light fires. Things didn't
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Breaking of the Glamour

Darkon had forgotten all about asking Egil how long they'd been at the house of the young woman, opting instead for a game of picking the petals off a daisy saying "She loves me'. "She loves me not". He threw the daisy away in disgust when it turned out the she didn't love him. It just goes to show that even flowers have greater insight than any of the three men in the grip of a dopamine rush triggered by being in love.   It was left to Stove to try and work out what was going on and to acc
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Rain, The Rubicon and Wet Washing

It had rained heavily overnight and Darkon's blankets were wet. Graphen was struggling to light the fire. He fiddled hopelessly with his flint to try and spark the damp tinder to life. Egil was hopping from one foot to the other attempting to keep warm. Stove alone was comfortable, his oily coat kept out the rain and he was finding the oat and grain mixture of his nosebag agreeable.   Darkon, Egil and Graphen grumbled at each other throughout the morning. All were soaked through as the rai
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Leaving Santos

If Stove could have beat his hoof off his forehead he would have done so for the twentieth time in the last hour. Graphen and Egil had been interrogating Darkon about his meeting with the Fatman in the Grapes End. "What gives you the right to make contracts Darkon?" snarled Egil,"Is it just because you've got no nose?" "It always comes down to my lack of nose, doesn't it," replied Darkon." you just can't leave it alone. I don't tell you your ears stick out and you're as bald as a Coot."
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The Meeting at the Grape's End with The Fatman

Darkon had no nose. He had carelessly mislaid it in a fight with some trolls after the summer equinox. The younger trolls had found it funny that Darkon's nose had come off in the exchange of blows." For a whole season  the younger trolls would joke,   "The human had no nose!"  “How did he smell?" one would ask in mock horror.  "Horrible" was the chorused reply as the group would roll helplessly around the Matriarch’s kitchen. Of course Darkon wasn't aware of any of this as he
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