Nozbat

That would be maybe on the tall side.. This is a picture I took in San Gimignano and I think I remember the towers being only just over 50m tall.. that said if you're standing below they look massive They have a very narrow base and I'm not sure that they could support a greater height. I did once see a document in Trinity Library, Dublin that gave instructions about how to build a Round Tower (the Monastic type ones to stop nasty northern peoples stealing illuminated manuscripts and using them to wipe their bottoms with). The height- width ratio was measured in cows. Therefore if your round tower was going to be 10 cows high it had to have a base of 3 cows wide. My rather fertile imagination still wonders how you balance cows on top of one another to ensure you only build 10 cows high rather than 11 cows and have it fall over.

In the third year of King Aelle's reign, on the first day of Solmonath, three brothers woke early to help their mother prepare the cakes that marked the end of winter. The three brothers known as Hrothgarsons and were well liked and thought of in the village of Caedering. Their mother Hildegard had told often them that they were descended from Thunor but Uthric, the middle brother, scoffed at this idea. How can I be descended from Thunor? I don't have red hair or carry a hammer. I don't like goats except for the excellent goat stew you make and I certainly would not hitch them to a cart. They all laughed but Dunstan, the younger brother, thought it might be unlucky to make fun of the gods. They were good natured, likeable boys and the neighbours said they would make fine young men like their father. Their father, Hrothgar, had led a force north to deliver a message to Ealdorman Wiglaf of Mierce but never returned. Only two housecarls came back, Beorthric and Wilfrith. They had said that Hrothgar had stayed behind to fight a pursing enemy to allow the others to escape. Caedering was an inconspicuous settlement on the borders of Aelle's land and ruled over by a Thane, Osberht. Osberht was mostly unremarkable and had no outstanding talents, but was good at most things. He brought peace and prosperity to the people who owed him allegiance. He was not too proud to help with the harvest or go looking for the farmer’s lost cow. His Carls grumbled about a lack of glory but the women were glad that they could bring up their children in peace. And so, this was how matters stood. The brothers made their living by hunting, bartering what they did not need for goods their mother needed. It was on one such trip that the younger brother Dunstan asked his brothers if they thought their mother was ill. We have not noticed said the others, but now you have mentioned it we will pay greater attention. Returning home after the days hunting they asked their mother if she was ill but she denied it and ruffled their hair and told them it was a pity their father could not see them now. And so, the days passed and Hildegard seem to grow older and more tired before their eyes. Wulfhere, the eldest, again confronted Hildegard asking what was wrong. With a great sigh she told them that after Yule she had been having dreams of their father. He comes to me at night, He has wounds in his head and on his body and a large death wound in his chest. He speaks but l cannot hear. The brothers were perturbed but tried to console their mother. Uthric brewed a sleep potion by boiling herbs that he gathered. When that didn’t work they tried to keep guard on her at night but the dream always came. Why is it our father has not gone to Neorxanwang, the Fields of Contentment, they asked each other. Eventually they agreed they would seek guidance from Osberht. The Thane was dismayed at their news and asked for Beorthric and Wilfrith to recount what they knew of Hrothgar's death. It was the first time the brothers had heard from the Carls and what they heard perturbed them. They had a sense of unease about the story and felt that both men might be holding back information. Wulfhere challenged the men but they added little to the story of Hrothgar's death or their part in it. Osberht took them aside afterwards and offered to pay the price of the fee for a laece to enquire of the spirits what the truth of the matter was. My advice said 0sbehrt is to ask Aelfwith with when he comes to the Eostre festival. The brothers were content with Osberht's words and counsel but were concerned at their mother’s plight. Uthric bartered a wild pig head for a potion of Nightshade from Eadgyd who was expert in making potions. The potion brought relief to Hildegard but it turned her nails black. She thought it was a small price to pay. At dusk before the Full moon, the village lit bonfires to celebrate the goddess’ return and in the morning Aelfwith came. There were lots of travelling merchants and peddlers who brought news from the South or further away in the East. Chief among the news was that Cerdic, Ealdorman was gathering an army to attack the British. Eadgyd told everyone she was disgusted by kings and nobles. They were forever declaring wars and disturbing the peace. However no-one paid attention to Eadgyd unless they needed a potion for toothache or help with the berthing of babies. The brothers approach Aelfwith with their bargain. I see no benefit in this for you replied Aelfwith. The risk for you is that the spirits might keep your souls and your body would be vacant until it withered. But for me the risk is greater and I fear that not only would my soul remain sundered from my body but it would be tortured by the unfriendly spirits Aelfwith would not be convinced by the brothers speeches, not even when they offered him the silver arm ring. Osberht’s arm ring is poor recompense if I cannot spend it. The brothers were discouraged by Aelfwith’s words but he told them of another laece, Stithwulf who was presently in Portus Caester. The brothers resolved to ask Osberht for leave to travel and seek out Stithwulf. He gave them a second silver arm ring as he thought they might require extra money. The journey to Portus Caester was uneventful and they followed the level road made by people long ago. They found Portus Caester a marvellous place seeing for the first-time houses that had upper floors and steps that went upwards without the need for ladders. Most exciting of all was the harbour with boats which came from faraway places. They found Stithwulf in a tavern drinking ale and told him of the bargain they wanted to make. Stithwulf made the brothers nervous. He had a habit of not replying directly to questions but often waited. He eventually agreed that he would take the brothers hunting tonight and they would see what became of it. Confident that if this was a trial, they could easily pass it, being accomplished hunters. When Stithwulf told them they would be hunting dangerous plants at midnight, they were perplexed but did not question what they were asked to do. Hunting plants is dangerous said Stith wolf and you must sneak up on the plant, overcome its willpower and then gently remove it from the ground, taking care not to damage the root. The brothers did find that hunting plants is much more dangerous than wild boars and Wulfhere suffered greatly before he had got the required Monkshood and Wormwood. They were tired following the hunt but got no rest as Stithwulf needed their help to build a spirit tent. Dunstan was most helpful as he had been formerly an advisor to Osberht in building withies to keep the sheep paddocked for sheering, Uthric gave up as no matter what he built fell down. Stithwulf at Uthric to build a fire pit instead. A task he accomplished with some style. The brothers were then set tasks to prepare their plants for the coming travel to the land of spirits. The spirit tent was hot and stuffy and they found breathing difficult. Stithwulf gave them each a horn of drink made from the harvested plants. To their horror they began to see spirits gather in the corners of the tent. Spider spirits came first, then bird spirits and finally larger animals. Stithwulf warned them not to move and to not pay attention to the spirits who would not harm them if they were ignored. The spirits had come to watch the laece. Then the visions started .. You are standing in a forest at night. The wind rises suddenly and in a short time it roars through the trees tearing off leaves and branches. You hear howls of dogs or wolves getting closer. The sound of horse’s hooves beat the ground. Horsemen and hounds sweep past you and you are dragged after them in their wake. You travel fast over hills and down into valleys, through forests in what you think is a northerly direction and slowly you are left behind as the riders increase their speed and disappear... In a valley there are two armies fighting. The Shield Walls clash, men shout, heave and die, screaming and shouting. You see the ghosts of the dead looking bemused and you are carried through the air by a violent storm. Thunder crashes close, deafening you and lightning blinds your eyes with its brilliance… ..to be set down in a dark forest. A huge wolf with red eyes comes into the glade where you stand and asks you what you want. Before you can answer you are flying through the air again.. You look down at your arms and they have turned into wings. When you look around you are in the middle of a flock of geese. Suddenly an arrow hits your chest and you fall, tumbling over and over, hitting the ground with a loud sickening smack.. You land by a forest pool and a woman asks you if she can take the arrow from your chest. Before you can answer she pulls the shaft and you feel a searing pain. From the wound maggots and insects flow out and start eating your legs and arms reducing them to bones You collapse and sink into the earth, falling and tumbling a great distance that seems like hours.. ..landing on a shore covered in bones. It is dark and the waves crash onto the shore of bones. In the distance you hear a noise as if something monstrous is moving. it seems to be getting closer and the sound of screaming gets louder. A vast shape moves towards you with gleaming eyes and sharp long teeth. Unable to move as the creature lunges at you, swallowing you. It is dark and the stench is unbearable.. it is death… and you move forward, feeling a rocky ground. Water trickles from somewhere and there is a faint light ahead. Slowly you make your way in the darkness towards the light. As you turn a bend the light floods in blinding you momentarily… ..focus returns and you see a red hat in front of you. You put it on and feel that it is wet. When you look at your hands they run red with blood. Two men walk towards you and laugh. They seem familiar but you cannot recall their names or focus on their faces when you try. They seem to be telling you something but you don't hear words. They spit at you and make a sign against evil. You pick up a piece of wood and there are runes carved on it. You look at the runes and as you stare the runes enlarge and glow. You can only see the runes and you fall or are absorbed by them. You awake in a forest, there is a pool. A woman looks at you and you feel movement. A snake comes out of your mouth and talks to the woman. She nods and gives the snake some bread dipped in honey. The snake crawls back into your mouth and you feel it move against your skull… You are moving again, flying through the air. flying south past forests and a settlement on a hill, past a forest, past your village and into your hut… You open your eyes. Your body is weak and sore. It’s difficult to move. You have bruises and cuts over your body.. a healed arrow wound in your chest Panting and exhausted they looked to Stithwulf to understand what they had seen but he just shook his head and said he had no power to interpret what had happened. What you have seen may be from the past, the present or the future. If it is the future you will know what it means when it happens. He took the largest of Osberht's silver arm rings as payment.

We used to do that in Ireland...never works out..

Seems more than started... thats already a major work.. and will be very detailed If you want to flesh it out a bit more I'm sure we can get a collaboration to help

Three coffees later, a few sidetracks and reading the news ...I've come up with this as a first draft of Random Encounters I intend to roll the encounters before hand as they might take a large part up of play tonight.. This is for my Anglo-Saxon Chronicle but hopefully others will find it useful to adapt to whatever they need. I think peoples views were that it would be good to have a Glorantha region specific so will need lots more work Hope that's helpful Random Encounters ASC.docx

Looking forward to that.. Mein Deutsch ist ausreichend aber meine Grammatik ist schrecklich...

I'm just writing Random Encounters for my upcoming Anglo-Saxon Chronicle campaign and got to the point of 'Small Game'.. and while musing on what small game might be ...I thought...rabbits!!... which brings more thoughts ..'Is this all I can come up with in the category small game?.. and..What about the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog?' (Probably the connection is that I just perused The Adventures of the Great Hunt). My players will need to employ the services of a Læce to solve the mystery of their dead father and suffer a rather unsettling discorporation induced by being in a chemically altered state ... do you think I should also include a Quest for the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch in the Discorporation scene? It might be useful if the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog turns up as a Random Encounter. Of course, finding the Holy Hand Grenade will be the easy part, getting the instructions is another matter. "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it." This is a long rambling discourse is to point out the actual difficulties of actually formulating Encounter Charts and the ease one has of being distracted by erroneous (but sometimes humorous) thoughts from the tedious task of Encounters.. I think we should all help Manimati with the task.. or else he might suffer distraction by inconsequential thoughts

For more difficult manoeuvres, you could balance D20s and for near impossible manoeuvres balance D4s. There's a double jeopardy..you might fail your roll (having been very high and used all your D20s to replicate it and be unable to roll, thus failing) or the dice might collapse triggering an automatic failure... seems a good solution to me I have a pirate copy brought in by some dodgy Lunar merchants

I would abstract it Joerg because you also will get... ..otherwise you will get drawn into all sorts of interesting laws of kinetics which I, for one, am glad I left behind long ago. I still think you can make it exciting by allowing the players to make all sorts of difficult or specialist manoeuvres using their drive or ride skills with various penalties attached. Opposed pursuit rolls for drive or fly would allow you to escape or catch up. Want to do a handbrake turn on your Ox pursuit-wagon ?.. Drive oxen and -50% modifier. Try an inside loop with your pegasus.. Ride Pegasus and a -80% modifier. Making high risk manoeuvres gives you an advantage.. you surprise your opponent by appearing behind her. Failure might mean your pegasus has stalled and you are open to attack. Players could practice unique skills or manoeuvres like the pilots in WW1 dogfights and mark the kills by tattooing victims on their vehicles (or animals). Lots of fun to be had without delving into Kinetics (anyway I can really only remember straight line motion.. so no turns or figures-of-eight manoeuvres) And surely Pythagoras theorem was about right angle triangles... the only use I've seen is when my German partner calculated if we could get a new large sofa in through our apartment door... we couldn't.. so had to opt for a modular design.

The huge raven alighted on the branch that buckled under her weight. The object of her attention was a man leading a horse through the forest at the edge of the lake. The raven was ravenously hungry, anticipating a feast of eyes, tongue and liver when the Rusalka was finished with him. The thought of the Rusalka made the raven nervous. She shifted on the branch making the man with the horse look up suddenly. "Stop following me, bird," shouted the man, breaking the silence. He looked around for something convenient to throw at the raven but unable to find anything but contented himself with muttering some curses. "The gods have forsaken this land. There are no animals or people anywhere.," he mumbled, “except for that demon pretending to be a raven.” The raven looked at him curiously, paying a bit more attention to her prospective meal. She could hear other being’s thoughts if she concentrated although she seldom did so much these days. Sometimes in the past she had been more curious about people. She often had flashes of a different life but when it happened it made her uneasy. The best way to get rid of those intrusions was by hunting and eating. The past was the past. The present was what mattered. The raven focused her attention on where she thought the Rusalka would be. When it started singing she had better get out of hearing. She would come back for the meal when the Rusalka had finished with whatever it wanted with the man. The two predators had worked together from last Spring and the raven saw no benefit in becoming one of the Rusalka's victims. The unlikely partnership was what had allowed the raven to stop the endless searching. She had forgotten what she was searching for which made it hard to find whatever it was. The raven croaked in what might have been a laugh if her vocal chords could have made the sound. Maybe partnership was the wrong concept, the Rusalka was unlikely to enter any sort of partnership, she was the most powerful predator in this region. But Autumn was here and with food becoming scarce she might have to resume her endless flight. The Rusalka seemed to be getting sleepier as the colder days arrived and was less active. That meant less food and more active hunting for her. The raven turned her attention back to the man. The horse he led was lame and both seemed wet, hungry and exhausted from the recent incessant rains. It was unusual to see people travel in late Autumn. The man must have a pressing need. The raven listened to the man. Perhaps with her acute hearing she could hear sub-vocalisations or perhaps she could hear his thoughts. She never really was interested to find out which. The man was thinking of his wife and three daughters. He was calling them over as he pictured himself sitting in a comfortable seat beside a fire. He was explaining to them that the Boyar had asked him to take a message to the Prince of Kiev and that it could not wait for Spring. His words or thoughts changed and seemed to move to the present. He was telling his wife that he missed her and feared he would not return. She needed to look after the girls and make sure that Boyar Yaromir found them good husbands. He cursed Yaromir and wished him all manner of unpleasantries. In the middle of his monologue he slipped and fell, twisting his ankle on an exposed tree root. He cursed the gods, cursed the marshes, cursed the lakes and in particular, cursed tree roots. What I need he said out loud is Baba Yaga's hut. His thoughts and words were interrupted by singing. The raven started, stretched her wings and flew off. She did not want to be caught by that beautiful, unearthly song. Her brain was fogged by images of wellness and desire. She had only to find the source of the song and she would have anything she desired. But the Rusalka lied. She always lied. The only reward for anyone who believed the song was a watery death. From a safe distance she watched the man drop the horse’s reins and swollen ankle forgotten, move at almost a run towards the source of the sounds. A short time later the music stopped and then an ethereal shout of ‘Elena’ echoed through the empty woods rising to a crescendo and then fading like the wind in the empty night. The raven knew it was time to eat. She soared over the cold, deep lake, quickly spotting the body. Landing beside it, she chased off several other scavengers who wanted the fresh meat. They all gave way to the outsized Raven. She started with the eyes, the juiciest parts and would finish with the liver. She was interrupted by a bear but it backed off. The raven ruffled her feathers, proud that she was powerful enough to scare a bear only to be quickly corrected in her assumption. "I am curious," said the voice behind her. The raven shifted position to look at the Rusalka sitting on a rock observing her. “I am curious about a raven that is not a raven," said the Rusalka. "So am l," said the Raven." but I can't help you with the answer." "Do you get sleepy too in the winter? I find I grow very sleepy in winter and my memories fade. In Spring I awaken refreshed and remember who I am, who I was" "Not at all, this is not similar for me” answered the raven, "and l have always been a raven.” "But that is not what I see," said the Rusalka smiling," I think l was once a woman, who was warm and loved. Maybe I loved too much. But the memories are dim. I think you also were a woman, but did not love like I did." The Raven looked anxiously around, judging if she could escape the Rusalka. "Fear not!' said the grinning Rusalka, "I am sated and warm after I fed on your meat’s soul, I will not harm you. I can see you were once something else. Have you been ensorcelled?" "I have always been a Raven. I do not recall any other existence but there are sometimes dreams." The Rusalka seemed to lose interest in the conversation. She began to look around. The raven became wary. "Maybe you would like me to sing for you," said the Rusalka. The Raven did not wait to reply. She stretched her wings and flew. Her flight was followed by the sound of soft laughter.

I suspect that's where my PCs will end up as they are actually a bunch of anarcho-syndicalists who will be rather quickly become Enemies of the State and Mierce is likely to be the only place they will find peace from the various feuds and outlawings that they will be accused of or actually commit. They have asked to see a laecce to ask some questions of the Spirits so I'll be filling them up with discorporating herbs and while in a chemically altered state they will take the first steps on the path of anarchy (I should utter an evil cackle at this stage but am content with a mere smirk)

I might also be interested .. timing permitted and time difference compatibility.. and I (unlike some who failed their deceit roll) haven’t read any of the above for at least 30 years and have just checked my bookcase and my copies have been stolen!!!

That campaign has obviously been running for a while... I'm introducing a heretical sect of Jötunn worship which has an alternative view on Woden as a self-seeking, psychopathic narcissist only intent on delaying Ragnarok to preserve his own life and when mine catches up with your timeline maybe we will introduce our PCs to each other and see what they do...😇

Thanks...I'll try that and see if there are people willing to collaborate. I've written a fair amount already.. possibly enough for a number of sessions and did out some maps today... I even went hunting for some colouring pencils

Rose this sounds like a Psychology paper?

In my (very short) Broo interlude adventure there was a two headed Broo called... Jake and Elwood Broo.. they did hate Illinois Nazis though

Angrboða closed the door into the main hall where the Jötunn still drank, boasted and tried to outdo each other in feats of strength. It was sadly often the case at the Yule feast. Angrboða sighed and turned to her companions. “Boys will be boys, Angrboða, you can’t change the way they have acted for millennia”, said Sívör. “But girls will be woman”, replied Angrboða, “ and as ever, we need to plan for the coming year to counter the Æsir. Our men are too busy swinging their dicks to consider what needs to be done.” “Tell the others what you told me about Óðinn, Gnissa”, said Angrboða taking her seat at the head of the table where the other twelve Gýgjar and Trollkvinna sat. Jötunheimr is a matriarchy. The Jötunn like to pretend otherwise and the Gýgjar are content to let them believe that but everyone knows where the true power lies. If it was not for the Council of Thirteen, Thor would have long ago reduced the Jötunnr to extinction by pulp. The Æsir deny power to the Ásynjur, preferring to believe they alone have the power to rule the nine worlds and prevent Ragnarök. Angrboða often thought that if the Ásynjur would revolt against the patriarchy, both could bring peace to Miðgarðr. Instead, Angrboða had to consider absolute destruction to bring about change. That is the meaning of my name, she thought, ‘she who offers sorrow’. Angrboða turned away from her inward thoughts to listen to Gnissa as she was explaining how once again Óðinn was consulting with Mímir's head to try to understand the last days. “My fylgja, Hreysiköttr, sat unseen in the lower branches of Yggdrasil as Óðinn questioned Mímir’ head. Mímir would not tell Óðinn directly of Ragnarök, but Óðinn has drunk the Mead of Kvasir and he was able to discern much of Mímir’s dissembling.” “Óðinn once again shows that his only purpose in life is to preserve his own and that, at the expense and detriment of all others. All of the nine worlds suffer for his selfishness and his self-preservation,” said Angrboða, “However, we have learnt something new. Tell us Gnissa.” Gnissa stood as she addressed her sisters as she felt that the occasion warranted more formality. “What we have learnt is that in Ragnarök, the patriarchy will die but there will not be absolute destruction but arising from the ashes and sundered seas, new worlds will arise. These new worlds will not be ones of sorrow, hunger and death for those that will once again dwell in Miðgarðr, but a land of plenty. It will not be overseen by the self-preserving Æsir, but by a council of Vanir and Gýgjar.” There were sharp intakes of breath and Angrboða rose and motioned for silence to quell the questions beginning to form on many lips. “I have cast the rune-sticks and we have a new hope in Járnviðja.” “Járnviðja? My youngest daughter and heir;” said Gnissa, smiling.

I love matching drapes...

I just got an email from DriveThruFiction and King of Sartar is their Deal of the Day... but its a PDF https://www.drivethrufiction.com/product/176926/King-of-Sartar

As a bit of a diversion for my players and to get them out of their comfort zone, I've decided to run an AS Chronicle. Interestingly, there is some misgiving about roleplaying Saxons, Jutes or Angles at the time of Arthur as they feel they are no longer on the 'goodies' side. Anyways, I have both Logres and Waterlands Scenarios but was interested if any other GMs had done something similar with their own material and would be willing to swop information/ ideas? The PCs are three brothers, each with their own secrets. The basic premise for the first scenario is finding why their father's ghost has not been able to find rest. According to family tradition, he volunteered to act as rearguard and hold up pursuing enemies while allowing his Carls to escape. It was presumed that he fell heroically in succeeding to protect his men. So why does he appear to the PCs' mother in dreams, silently talking to her, covered in gore and blood with fatal wounds on his body? I want to create a fluid, multi-layered campaign that allows the PCs choice and feel that they are in control of their wyrds but also marks the passing of time in that they grow older, perhaps richer and more powerful, eventually die (maybe even in bed) and are succeeded by their children. They can then build up a dynasty So if anyone would like to collaborate ..I'd be only too happy to join in

I's certainly be interested in that... I'm still working on the Hanse campaign so this is all good stuff I need something to distract me as I'm off work after a night On call and it feels like this...

My allied spirit is Laphraoig ... it also helps with discorporation

Don’t get me started on Broo and Post-modernism...

"The show has been lauded for its realistic take on dealing with depression, trauma, addiction, self-destructive behaviour, racism, sexism, sexuality and the human condition" yep...that sounds Brooish

Oi-Boi definition: A person or animal who is particularly fat, lazy and sleepy, yet comforting, soft and kind-faced. Never thought of orcs as soft and comforting but I guess people change and evolve. Next we will have Walktapus Social Workers and Scorpion-people nurses However this picture is even more disturbing and insidious and shows how Broo infiltrated the 70's hippy culture posing in front of the ruins of the Big Rubble