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Showing content with the highest reputation on 07/26/2021 in Posts

  1. MUTTON BIRD PUDDING Baboon feet are almost as good as hands, and as soon as Melo Yelo got clear of Daystar's cavern he removed the stone knife from his palm. His healing magic deftly sealed it up, but the presence of so much salt made the injury still sting dreadfully nevertheless. Activating his fabled helmet, he headed for the surface. When he reached the upper galleries he found Dusk Detail inmates hard at work, chipping and cutting away at the salt under flickering black gold lamps. Melo Yelo had lost all track of time down with the Dark Detail, but this must mean it was daytime outside: the Duskers always returned to the surface to sleep. He was wondering how he might get past the the Templar guards at the mine's entrance when someone called out to him: it was Cornspot! His human friend explained that his cushy job in the Dawn Detail, which wouldn't have seen him enter the mines at all, blew up on his second day. Cornspot got involved in a fight. The head of the cookhouse was the morokanth known as Mock Pork. One of the few non-humans imprisoned here, she'd been sentenced for illegally enslaving Sun Dome Folk. Even in a Sun Dome prison Yelmalio's dietary geases are meant to be respected and Cornspot noticed Mock Pork slopping the same mutton bird pudding into everyone's bowl, whether they were allowed to eat bird meat or not. "We fought, I lost," Cornspot said ruefully. "Then they busted me down to the Dusk Detail and told me to mind my own business what goes on in the cookhouse." Since then Cornspot had been labouring in the mines with the other unfortunates, but had earned some kudos by saying he knew the hero of Angle Fort. Like him, the inmates appreciated what Melo Yelo had done for their starving families, even if the Sun Dome leadership seemingly did not. Cornspot devised a cunning plan to get the baboon to the outside. "But what then?" he wondered, and Melo Yelo didn't really have an answer; Yelmalio would provide, he hoped. The mine site had no walls – didn't need them being so far out in hostile territory – but the baboon at least knew how to survive in Vulture's Country where Sun Folk farmers would not. He also thought he'd be able to avoid the Sable braves Cornspot said were always lurking about. They earned a bounty for any scalps they took of prisoners stupid enough to make a break for it. Mining at Pent Ridge is difficult and dangerous. The poor diet, stifling heat, and impossible quotas help to make accidents commonplace. Cornspot got Melo Yelo out by faking an accident. He and some comrades carried the baboon out wrapped in a sheet, saying the prisoner had been grievously injured in a tunnel collapse. These happened frequently enough because the lack of wood meant few tunnels can be properly braced, and cave-ins are a constant hazard. The indifferent guards at the mine entrance saw enough to note the latest casualty had indeed lost an arm and waved them through to the infirmary tent. Outside it was noon, and the prisoners all squinted in the glare. Crossing the bare plain to the encampment shimmering in the distance, Cornspot muttered "What now?". Before Melo Yelo could answer, a shadow passed over them all. With a great flap of its wings, the wyrm Windwhistler landed a short distance in front of them. On its back was a resplendent golden warrior, who dismounted. The prisoners dropped the baboon in surprise. He sprung to his feet. Through the heat haze Melo Yelo thought this must be Lord Belvani, come to rescue! But as the warrior approached he realised no, it wasn't the Light Captain at all: no, it was the Light Son who bested him at the Cradle, and who he saw in his vision at the Paps. The warrior stood before them and took off his helmet. He was a handsome man with a sandy beard. He told them, "My name is Rurik Runespear, Companion of Argrath White Bull. I am here to find the baboon Melo Yelo."
    2 points
  2. John Hughes wrote a lot of Heortling skaldic poetry for his Far Place material. You can find it here: https://myth-o-logic.org/glorantha/gloranthan-fiction/heortling-skaldic-poetry/
    2 points
  3. For me, the people of the Wastelands practise a brutal form of hospitality. they will offer food and drink to anyone who asks for it, for they do not know when they will themselves require food or drink. They will not imprison, enslave or kill guests, unless the guests attack them first. However, they will happily let the guests go and them chase them down afterwards, depending on the circumstances. Agimori, however, never take slaves, so would only hunt to punish those who break their hospitality. Oasis Folk will offer food to all who come to their Oasis. However, their food tends to be variations on a theme. If you don't like dates, for example, then you will be disappointed on a date Oasis, as they will offer you a variety of dates, stuffed dates, roasted dates, date wine and date surprise (Yes, it's a date). When I worked on an archaeological dig, the chap in charge told a story of hiking around Greece when he was 18, looking at the various sites. He often had no money and relied on the hospitality of the locals. Once he met an old couple who gave him a bed to sleep in and a meal, basically a plate of mutton stew and lentils, he finished it and they put another plate in front of him, which he could barely finish, then they out another plate in front of him. Panicking slightly, he realised that they would not stop until he was full, so he ate some, thanked them and then said he could eat no more. Apparently they looked so relieved, for they must have thought that he would eat all their food.
    2 points
  4. I like the various blank verse poetry that appears in Cults of Prax. Is there a web link with additional Orlanthi verse?
    1 point
  5. Following up on this, perhaps it could be argued that Illumination is the "shortcut" version of Draconic Mysticism. Similar goals, but much more immediate temporal rewards for much less effort. Something to think about.
    1 point
  6. I'd love to see the Blood Brothers books resurrected, perhaps as a combined volume. There's a paucity of non-Mythos adventures for the game, and these should be useful for new Keepers (along with Pagan Publishing's Coming Full Circle and Bumps in the Night).
    1 point
  7. So Rick has done an interview with Enworld about the CoC classic Kickstarter and their plans to bring more classic CoC horror back from the grave. He also said they are looking for suggestions on what material to start with. He has already that old editions of Masks of Nyarlathotep are low priority because of the recent update. Same for Gaslights and Dreamlands so please no asking for those. Obviously the products already in the Kickstarter have been done (for those who aren’t aware, the 2nd edition rules, Cthulhu Companion, Shadows of Yog-Sothoth, Fragments of Fear, Trail of Tsathoggua and The Asylum and Other Tales) I’ve only been playing CoC since 2019 so I’m just going by what I’ve had recommended or I’ve seen reviews for but I’d like to see: Blood Brothers 1 & 2 Spawn of Azathoth No Man’s Land Strange Aeons 1&2 Tatters of the King I’d also like to see things like Tales of the Miskatonic Valley and Adventures in Arkham Country but I don’t know how that would interact with the Lovecraft Country updates Mike has been working on. I also am aware quite a lot of those things are from the 90s or 00s unlike the Kickstarter stuff but that’s what is interesting to me based on what I’ve read. I also know these are available in PDF but I’m a big fan of dead tree versions and I know these are very likely to go straight to POD rather than regular print runs and Chaosium have said previously that it’s not possible to do a PDF coupon for these due to the increased costs of POD so I’d much rather wait until I could get both at the same time. oh and finally I’ve heard mixed things about the Secrets of books but knowing my stupid completionist habit I’d probably buy them all anyways… Anyone got further good or bad info on these?
    1 point
  8. From Jeff's recent FB post on the topic: One of the more beloved minor cultures among many players are the Aeolians - sorcery-using Orlanthi or Orlanth-worshiping Malkioni that live in the south of Heortland. Now it is worth keeping in mind that there are somewhere around 50k Aeolians in total, maybe more, maybe less. That puts the total number of Aeolians at around the size of five Sartarite tribes. Now that puts some big limitations on them - the other is that they are in contact with the God Forgot "atheists", who also number about 50k. These two are separate communities and religions, even if they are often conflated together by other Kethaelans. > If we assume that less than 5% of the adult population have learned sorcery, there might be 1500 people with sorcery skills among the Aeolians. For comparison, there might be 1000 Lhankor Mhy initiates with some sorcery skills in all of Sartar. But Nochet might have twice that many Lhankor Mhy initiates that know sorcery, probably more. > I tend to think of the Aeolians as being roughly analogous to the Druze or Yazidi. They are an ethnoreligious group that are always a minority outside of their strongholds. > As an aside, I do not believe that the Aeolians try to convert anyone. I am not sure they even accept converts!
    1 point
  9. Does anyone have a Map for the Locaem tribal capital of Famegrave official or otherwise?
    1 point
  10. IT IS TIME TO DANCE... "OURO", chanted Daystar. Melo Yelo blinked and shook himself awake. He was back in the cavern surrounded by a fug of yellow smoke. He was unclear on where he'd been. His arm ached - his missing left arm that is. What had just happened? The priest handed him the pipe and waved at the ceiling. "It is done. The time of the Dragon Sun draws closer, the time for utuma! We must continue to smoke, smoke, smoke, and our spirits, yours and mine, will dream the Dance of Pure Being," he said. "OUROB" said the Midnight Express. This was the first time the dragonewt had changed the chant. "The sublime moment of Creation will soon be upon us!" Daystar exclaimed. "Belvani offered me no release from this dark pit. Pah! He only wanted me to confirm what he already suspected was true. Oh how he will be surprised when I assume the form of his precious Guardian of Above!" Melo Yelo wasn't clear what was going on, but he was certain this was not part of Lord Belvani's plan. The old priest's eyes glistened. "When you prostrate yourselves before the Sun Dragon will be the moment I shall eat him, and you, you reborn can lead the Sun Folk under the watch of my slitted eye!" He cackled maniacally. Daystar reached for the stone knife. "Come," he said to Melo Yelo, "It is time to Dance..." One of his trollkin servants was tugging at his sleeve. Throughout this smoking ritual, Daystar had blithely tuned out the piteous pleas of the Dark Detail prisoners as their croaking for water grew ever fainter. For this interruption he gave the trollkin a positively murderous look. But his servant glumly pointed to the basket by his side: it was empty! The other trollkin was already smearing the last remaining package of hazia into the bowl of the hookah. "Aieee!", screamed Daystar. He turned in wide-eyed panic to The Midnight Express and spoke urgently with spits and hisses. In his mind, Melo Yelo could understood what was being said: "Go at once to my Treasury, we must have more hazia! Bring it, bring it all, the moment of utuma is almost upon us!" The Midnight Express strode over to the entrance that led to Daystar's store of goods. The woman Forgotten got up from her resting spot and went through into the tunnel with the dragonewt. A few moments later a deep-throated roar erupted from the tunnel. Then Forgotten came out of the tunnel again, with a smirk on her face. In her hand she was twirling one of her tarnished silver and finger bone necklaces. What she'd done was given the protective talisman to the dragonewt, and then palmed it. He was now in spirit combat with two dozen gibbering Mad Head ghosts. Forgotten's reappearance swinging her amulet must have been a signal to the other desperately thirsty inmates. Those still capable sprung from their places and immediately charged up the mound crying out hoarsely. Daystar's trollkin servants, silent until now, fled with high-pitched squeals. It took a moment or two for Daystar to comprehend what was happening. He reacted in furious indignation and screamed with spittle-flecked rage. Then, taking a deep breath, he prepared to unleash powerful magic. But before he could do so, he was caught from behind. Forgotten had looped one of her leather thongs around his neck and started strangling him. The hookah pipe was knocked flying in the rush of the prisoners, but they ignored Melo Yelo and the priest in their haste to get to the well. A fight erupted over the bucket. Meanwhile, Daystar tried to make a few futile jabs behind him with the stone knife, but Forgotten had garrotted many victims before. He then came up with a new idea: Daystar turned the knife around and prepared to pierce himself in the heart! He was still over the stone, and perhaps if he killed himself before he was strangled, he would yet have his chance of being reborn in the Guardian of Above. But Melo Yelo blocked the knife as Daystar attempted plunged it into his chest. It was incredibly sharp and went straight though the baboon's palm. The pain was terrible yet he gripped it with his fingers and wrenched the blade away. It was time to leave this strange and ghastly place. The Guardian of Above's block was far too heavy for Melo Yelo to carry, especially with only one arm, but the baboon fled into the darkness with the stone knife still stuck through his hand. He left the fracas in Daystar's cavern behind him and looked for a way to the surface.
    1 point
  11. Kickstarter has just notified us that 5718 backers pledged USD$591,470.01 to help bring our Call of Cthulhu Classic project to life. That is amazing, astounding, and awesome. It exceeded our expectations and we feel like we just rolled a special success. Thank you to all who joined us for this intense ritual to bring back some of the Great Old Ones. Our efforts certainly succeeded. As the saying from 1928 goes, "That is not dead which can eternal lie." In our case we don't have to have a lot of early Call of Cthulhu books just lying in the archives. We're bringing them back onto your gaming shelves for you to read, play, and enjoy. There's lots more info to come, but right now we wanted to focus on thanking everyone who backed the campaign for making it such a success. The Stars Were Right! And it was all down to all of you!
    1 point
  12. With literally one hour to go in our Call of Cthulhu Classic Kickstarter, people have been trying to triangulate on exactly how many scenarios are in the 2" boxed set, so we thought we should provide a list: The Haunted House (by Sandy Petersen) The Brockford House A Beginning Scenario for a Campaign The Wail of the Witch Shadows of Yog Sothoth The People of the Monolith The Warren The Auction Black Devil Mountain The Asylum The Mauretania Gate from the Past Westchester House Paper Chase The Mystery of Loch Feinn The Rescue The Secret of Castronegro The Haunted House (by Keith Herber) Shadows over Hollywood The Underground Menace Valley of the Four Shrines Curse of Tsathoggua Trail of Tsathoggua That's 23 scenarios, although Shadows of Yog Sothoth is really a campaign and you could equate each of its 7 chapters to a scenario. Doing that would bring the total to 29! What's more, the boxed sets and PDFs on offer are not only packed-full of nostalgia from the birth of the Call of Cthulhu roleplaying game in 1981, but are also fully compatible with the 7th Edition of the game! Last chance to back, the campaign ENDS Sat 24 July at 7pm EDT / 4pm PDT! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/chaosium/call-of-cthulhu-classic
    1 point
  13. THE SOURCE OF YOUR IGNOMINY "OUR", chanted Daystar. Oh living Yelm, born in the Sky every day, He begat his august son, Yelmalio, Son of Sun, Who wears the mantle of his father's beauty. "Can you see it?," Daystar cried excitedly, pointing at the swirling yellowish smoke at the roof of the cavern. Through the haze Melo Yelo did see a vision of a resplendent ball of light. And flying around it in a swirling pattern was a wyrm - something like Windwhistler, but golden and more majestic, more divine. "When Solanthos cast me down here they cursed me. My geas is if I am exposed to Yelm's Light, I will burn. But that is only thissssss body," Daystar said with a hiss. "And now your master has told me the Spirit of Above has returned in material form. I have its stone; it took me many years of searching in the Old Sun Dome, and years still to smuggle the stone here. "But if I sacrifice myself on its stone will I be reborn inside it, the Guardian of Above's body will be mine. And then I will be free!" Melo Yelo was still looking at the ceiling. Perhaps old priest's rheumy eyes were not not as keen as the baboon's, for Melo Yelo was sure the great flying wyrm had a golden armoured rider on its back. Who was that? "And you, you my friend must do utuma with me: for your service the Sun Dragon shall surely decree you will be reborn a most splendid man," said Daystar complacently, taking a great draw on the pipe. As more smoke billowed to the ceiling Melo Yelo saw a vision of the Yelmalion he could be: the very visage of his fabled helm, and whole perfect human body too, made flesh. But Melo Yelo didn't want to be human. He still wanted to be the best Yelmalion he could, but he wanted to stay a baboon. For that's what he was. But they will never accept you. Now Daystar was in his head. Look how they've treated you. Belittled your heroism, ignored your bravery. Kept silent when they were the guilty ones. And with that Melo Yelo's spirit went soaring again, out over the plains to Moonbroth. On the way he could see a thousand campfires, with followers of the White Bull from almost every tribe. They were chanting and dancing of how on the morrow they would sweep the Lunar Empire out of their sacred homeland forever. He passed through the great circle of defenses around the oasis. The soldiers on watch nervously looked out at the campfires and could even hear the singing, but their officers complacently assured them they were safe behind their massive fields of caltrops. Next he was in a well-appointed tent. The panoply of its owner rested on a stand: it was gold, but the gold was tarnished, and there was no vambrace for the left arm. Lying in the cot asleep was Count Invictus, still wrapped in his golden cloak, still concealing his left arm. Sssee him there, he's the sssourccce of your pain, why they laugh at you, why they mock. The source of your ignominy, he who turned away after all you had done, all you have sssacrificed, hissed the voice in his head. Invictus shifted restlessly in his sleep and the cloak slipped loose. His baboon arm, given freely to him by Melo Yelo at the Painted Wall so he could contain Daga with his own, was revealed. "OURO", chanted Daystar.
    1 point
  14. As some who, very fortunately, has a pretty good collection of older CoC books, I'd love to see some genuine rarities included in this reprint drive - for example Australia's Cthulhu Conglomerate produced some great tournament scenarios in the mid 80s to early 90s (a few of which, like "Taterdamalion" were published in Chaosium books). I've only managed to ever pick up one and I've looked (though I found a few outside my budget). On the plus side, most of the people involved are still around (and like Mark Morrison, still making things for Call of Cthulhu). There was even a list of them in Dagon #25 Crack'd and Crook'd Manse [already in Mansions of Madness] Plague Dogs The Bride of Abhoth Black as Coal [published in an Australian gaming magazine] The Dark Continent Haitian Horror [published in Australian gaming magazine] Better Dead His Master's Voice Abhoth Omnipotens In Memory Yet Green Who Mourns for Adonis? Untimely Ripped Plus a few more from after that article was published... Tatterdamalion [published in Fatal Experiments] The Devil's Children [published by Pagan Publishing] Persons Unknown The Secret of Smuggler's Cove
    1 point
  15. Huh I didn't know there were POD Chaosium products on DriveThruRPG. I can find Tatters no problem but not Spawn (I can find it PDF but not PDF) do you have a link? I've gone through all the products available on DriveThruRPG and they have a buncb I'm interested in including original Cthulhu Dark Ages, Miskatonic University, most if not all of the Secrets books and the original Mansions of Madness. Thanks for letting me know these were available! Is one of those Gaslight books the one with the weird shark like thing on the cover? I wouldn't say no to more of Gaslights or Dreamlands to support those eventual lines but are there only 2 Gaslights and 1 Dreamlands supplements of note? What about anything at all for Dark Ages that could be reprinted? Speaking of No Man's Land I've been spitballing a linked set of scenarios that start off with the investigators discovering something bad during trench warfare in WW1 then later on having to go back to secure whatever it was to stop the nazis from getting it, just trying to think how to potentially expand it to the cold war. World War 1 could be such an interesting place to set more stuff in. That is very cool. I just read the premise and I was immediately sold on the concept. It appears these were marketed as Non Mythos CoC titles, was that just for these or were there more in the non mythos line? That is something I'd definitely like to see come back as much as I love the mythos it would keep my investigators on their toes if they weren't sure about this during their investigation.
    1 point
  16. Friends of old, friends of new and those of you I never knew. My art is to carve simple wood into beautiful shapes, as for making simple words beautiful I shall make an attempt but know now that I shall be accurate and true above all else. It was in the time when men were taming Dragon Pass, before the coming of Sartar first-king, that a clan had settled on the edge of the lands that now belong to the Balmyr tribe. I know not the name of this clan for they later split and merged in seperate ways, but that is not important now. This clan had a peculiar tradition, set by their heroic founding ancestor, to adopt any lost child as their own and this is the reason why when they found a troll babe in a bush they had to make a difficult descicion. There were many good reasons and arguments to not take the child in but ultimately the clan's Orlanth god-talker shamed the people into honouring their ancestral tradition. Thus the troll babe was taken in and raised in the Orlanthi way. I know not what name they gave him, only his later name of fame, so I shall call him "Thundergut" now even though this name was made later and I shall tell you how in time. As a child Thundergut did not have a good time and he was passed around various steads since nobody wanted him for long and tolerated him only out of duty. Other children did not like playing with him, he was ugly, awkward, large and did not know his own strenght. He played too rough, he ate too much and made odd whining noises on bright days. He was even close to getting thrown out of the clan when a lamb in a flock he tended had disappeared. Not an uncommon event in such a wild land but due to his troll nature, well, I think you know what people thought had happened. Again it was the god-talker that saved him by insisting on a divination to detirmine his guilt. In this ritual they did not learn the truth for the ancestors that came to them only wailed that they were not honouring their traditions and they would be cursed if they threw out a child. What a sad beeing the child Thundergut must have been. Desperate for any affection and attention at all he attached himself to the only person who did not wince at him to his face, the Orlanth god-talker. Now, the old man certainly did not want to play, least at all with Thundergut and he certainly did not want to hear about how the child had dreamt that he set fire to the alynxes in the stead (I am told that this was actually said), so in a bid to make the sad little boy shut up and sit down the god-talker talked. And what should he talk about but what he knew? He talked of Orlanth. To me it does not seem like much, but to Thundergut who was starved of affection it must have been an oasis in Prax for he drank deeply of this well of knowledge. In the stories he saw the recipie for love and adoration and he became obsessed. By the time of his initiation his knowledge of the stories of Orlanth was greater than that of even several adults and he came out mightier than any of his initiation-brothers. I am also told that many had hoped he would turn into a human after the initiation but I do not know why anyone would think that. Anyways... With the strenght of his race Thundergut was a great worker and when the many enemies of the clan came to raid and plunder no shieldwall could resist his ferocious charge and mighty thunderbolts. This was the rise of his star for his victories brought wealth and knowing what Orlanth would do with wealth he shared it. I will say that yes, there were those who were friends to him only while the gifts flowed and I have wondered if Thundergut truly was generous or if he was buying adoration. I have never wondered this of any other hero so why should I question the generosity of Thundergut? The drink has me getting sentimental. I shall go on, as usual. Deeply immersed in the lore of Orlanth, emulating his god and mighty in victory. Thundergut built a stead upon a small hillock with wealth from raids and there he lived alone with only his herds for company. He did not attend feasts in those days, always finding some excuse to not partake. Thundergut could not escape his racial hunger and I have no doubt he was deeply embarassed by the way he ate, unable to keep from wolfing down food with accompanying sounds. Imagine. This is the reason why the boar-eating competition is a thing down there. Some clever person came up with a way of making everyone eat like a troll and make a game out of it. Thundergut was the reigning champion his entire life. Now I shall tell you of his name, which he got some time after becoming housecarl to the chief. The clan had many enemies and one of them sought to attack Thundergut where he was most weak, his pride. They composed a song mocking him viciously and naming him Thundergut. When the clan lawspeaker, who was also a skald, heard the song he composed a countersong naming the heroic Thundergut with just a twang of friendly banter and he made sure Thundergut heard his version first. That is one story at least, there is another version where the mocking song was made after the heroic song and this was probably the most common story back then, but my instincts tell me it is wrong. That is what I know, in detail. His heroic deeds are named, such as I recall: the three-horse-jump, the avenging of the widows, the holding of the bridge, the wildfire wrestling and the walktapus affair. Alas, I do not know these stories and I am sure there are more. Aye, he was a great warrior. Wanted to be a wind-lord. He was devoted to the protection of Ernalda, her temple and priestesses like no one else. Never married. I think we all know why. Probably never could get himself to look at a human woman that way. Anyway, I don't know how his story ends. I heard he died before he could become a windlord. Some say he died trying to wear iron armour, which as you know a windlord must possess and others say he died in the service of Ernalda, whatever that means. He is supposedly buried somewhere in the Quivin mountains, under his hillock or in the hills south of Wilmskirk, near wasps nest. A warrior out of Whitewall who sought his magic sword (not that I think he'd be bale to lift it, mind you) claimed he heard Thundergut lies near Kero Fin. More recently a duck theorized to me he lies in the smoking ruins, dead in an attempt to heroquest to ressurect a cult to the darkness son of orlanth of whom he did not remember the name. Ah, who knows. I'll say this: if anyone ever hears any more I would like to know how the story end. Now what say you, shall we raise our horns for Thundergut?
    1 point
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