Justin Achilli

Month: April, 2009

Ashur and Alta Sikhum


The center of a warlike but pious people, Alta Sikhum vanished after the Ashurians lost a protracted conflict with the rival Hezzir culture. Ashurian emperors were believed to be the chosen of the archer of the skies, Ashur, strong in his image and divine by his blessing. Ashurian people pledged themselves to various warrior cults, following aspects of their patron god, claiming their arrows were as far-reaching and terrible as the rays of the sun could be.

The Ashurian emperors were progressive for their time, allowing conquered peoples to become part of the empire. They were implacable if defied, however, and many of the great Ashurian epics are rife with bloody vengeance taken against those who betrayed them or refused to submit to them. Temples to the deity Ashur could be found far and wide in the lands of the empire, and any who wished to devote himself to the priesthood could do so, regardless of his people of origin.

Sikhubanipal, one of the last of the Ashurian emperors, was a great proponent of civilization, and unlike most of his line educated himself in arts outside those of warfare and conquest. The lost vaults of Alta Sikhum were once believed to hold troves of the treasures of antiquity, until the Hezzirs and later nomadic tribes trampled them to dust. The secrets lost to time and barbarism in Alta Sikhum and other Ashurian cities might never again be known to the civilized world.

Actual Play: Showdown at Collum’s Bridge

The party assembled themselves at the end of the bridge that led to Welton, a small village in danger of being cut off from the rest of the world if the renegade elves who claimed the bridge had their way. Consisting of Morrik (dwarf invoker 2), Adrik (dwarf cleric 2), Liam Heartwood (“longtooth” shifter warden 2, who was descended from an ancient tree rather than the traditional quasi-lycanthrope shifter), and an unmanageable goblin rogue 2 named Hellyug, the adventuring company stormed the blockaded bridge.

Their enemies included four elven archers, an elven scout, and two gray wolves — a fairly stock encounter from the DMG plus two more elven archers.

The heroes were successful! They turned back the elven terrorists holding the bridge. A wolf and an elven archer were bounced off the bridge and plunged into the roiling river below. An elven scout burned to death. One wolf was laid low by divine disapproval and an archer was cut to pieces by the surly goblin. Two elves ran the hell away. Fine work, heroes!

But surely these weren’t the only elves who laid claim to the Forest Forlorn….

The map was built to give enough room for various characters to charge, but also had a few features to encourage some dramatic use of sliding and maneuvering. On either side of the bridge, a suspended platform allowed archers to loose arrows at those attempting to cross, and the whole thing traversed a valley in which a swift-flowing river coursed far below.

Things started of as anyone’s advantage, then the PCs suffered a critical setback, but then managed to fight their way back to dominance. An early bless gave the party bolstered offensive capability that benefited them throughout the fight. Unfortunately, a few exceptional rolls, including a critical, managed to fell the warden in the defender role. Concerted effort brought him back to his feet, and an ugly cluster-brawl at the center of the bridge saw most of the action. The elf scout used a reroll to his benefit early on, but made up for it by blowing his two-weapon attack during a pivotal point in the fight. Everyone had a kill except the invoker, who suffered from poor dice rolls early on but which increased toward the end of the fight.

Particularly enjoyable was the players’ use of the terrain to their advantage. The goblin rogue made a dashing leap up to one of the hanging platforms and relentlessly harried one of the archers. One of the wolves and one of the archers went careening off the bridge and platform, respectively, which I just love from a dramatic, gameplay, and visual standpoint. (I’m the kind of player who takes special abilities so his character can hurl dudes off things, and I just dig seeing it in play.) It’s my intent to always have some nifty environmental aspect to the play areas, because I think it’s exciting and I think it’s handled pretty elegantly in the 4e rules, so I have to challenge myself to keep those ideas fresh.

Notable Positive Experiences: Bad guys sailing off the architecture, of course. I liked seeing the warden in action. I also like the way 4e splits the “fairy” archetype into elves and eladrin. I’ve always liked the idea of elves as chaotic and untrustworthy, and I liked using them as bad guys without having to resort to stereotypical drow. Every player contributed something significant and had a chance to use cool powers.

Notable Negative Experiences: Nothing out of the ordinary. I think Morrik’s player, Ned, was a litle frustrated by bad die rolls that limited his input, but that’s part and parcel to a dice-based game. Link, playing Adrik, definitely enjoys a more narrative experience than I plan to deliver with the single-encounter lunch sessions — not that that’s necessarily negative, but I think his enthusiasm may be limited by the format.

Ashur and Alta Sikhum

Ashur, the archer of the skies. The center of a warlike but pious people, Alta Sikhum vanished after the Ashurians lost a protracted conflict with the rival Hezzir culture. Ashurian emperors were believed to be the chosen of the archer of the skies, Ashur, strong in his image and divine by his blessing. Ashurian people pledged themselves to various warrior cults, following aspects of their patron god, claiming their arrows were as far-reaching and terrible as the rays of the sun could be.

The Ashurian emperors were progressive for their time, allowing conquered peoples to become part of the empire. They were implacable if defied, however, and many of the great Ashurian epics are rife with bloody vengeance taken against those who betrayed them or refused to submit to them. Temples to the deity Ashur could be found far and wide in the lands of the empire, and any who wished to devote himself to the priesthood could do so, regardless of his people of origin.

Sikhubanipal, one of the last of the Ashurian emperors, was a great proponent of civilization, and unlike most of his line educated himself in arts outside those of warfare and conquest. The lost vaults of Alta Sikhum were once believed to hold troves of the treasures of antiquity, until the Hezzirs and later nomadic tribes trampled them to dust. The secrets lost to time and barbarism in Alta Sikhum and other Ashurian cities might never again be known to the civilized world.

Actual Play: Showdown at Collum’s Bridge

The party assembled themselves at the end of the bridge that led to Welton, a small village in danger of being cut off from the rest of the world if the renegade elves who claimed the bridge had their way. Consisting of Morrik (dwarf invoker 2), Adrik (dwarf cleric 2), Liam Heartwood (“longtooth” shifter warden 2, who was descended from an ancient tree rather than the traditional quasi-lycanthrope shifter), and an unmanageable goblin rogue 2 named Hellyug, the adventuring company stormed the blockaded bridge.

Their enemies included four elven archers, an elven scout, and two gray wolves — a fairly stock encounter from the DMG plus two more elven archers.

The heroes were successful! They turned back the elven terrorists holding the bridge. A wolf and an elven archer were bounced off the bridge and plunged into the roiling river below. An elven scout burned to death. One wolf was laid low by divine disapproval and an archer was cut to pieces by the surly goblin. Two elves ran the hell away. Fine work, heroes!

But surely these weren’t the only elves who laid claim to the Forest Forlorn….

The map was built to give enough room for various characters to charge, but also had a few features to encourage some dramatic use of sliding and maneuvering. On either side of the bridge, a suspended platform allowed archers to loose arrows at those attempting to cross, and the whole thing traversed a valley in which a swift-flowing river coursed far below.

Things started of as anyone’s advantage, then the PCs suffered a critical setback, but then managed to fight their way back to dominance. An early bless gave the party bolstered offensive capability that benefited them throughout the fight. Unfortunately, a few exceptional rolls, including a critical, managed to fell the warden in the defender role. Concerted effort brought him back to his feet, and an ugly cluster-brawl at the center of the bridge saw most of the action. The elf scout used a reroll to his benefit early on, but made up for it by blowing his two-weapon attack during a pivotal point in the fight. Everyone had a kill except the invoker, who suffered from poor dice rolls early on but which increased toward the end of the fight.

Particularly enjoyable was the players’ use of the terrain to their advantage. The goblin rogue made a dashing leap up to one of the hanging platforms and relentlessly harried one of the archers. One of the wolves and one of the archers went careening off the bridge and platform, respectively, which I just love from a dramatic, gameplay, and visual standpoint. (I’m the kind of player who takes special abilities so his character can hurl dudes off things, and I just dig seeing it in play.) It’s my intent to always have some nifty environmental aspect to the play areas, because I think it’s exciting and I think it’s handled pretty elegantly in the 4e rules, so I have to challenge myself to keep those ideas fresh.

Notable Positive Experiences: Bad guys sailing off the architecture, of course. I liked seeing the warden in action. I also like the way 4e splits the “fairy” archetype into elves and eladrin. I’ve always liked the idea of elves as chaotic and untrustworthy, and I liked using them as bad guys without having to resort to stereotypical drow. Every player contributed something significant and had a chance to use cool powers.

Notable Negative Experiences: Nothing out of the ordinary. I think Morrik’s player, Ned, was a litle frustrated by bad die rolls that limited his input, but that’s part and parcel to a dice-based game. Link, playing Adrik, definitely enjoys a more narrative experience than I plan to deliver with the single-encounter lunch sessions — not that that’s necessarily negative, but I think his enthusiasm may be limited by the format.

Nerd War!

New actual play post from the lunchtime D&D game over at One Encounter.

Unfair Treatment

Perfectly acceptable wall adornment.Man, what a bunch of bull.

We’re going to paint Baby Girl’s room a pale pink, apparently. That’s what her room will look like. Pale pink. A room for a baby girl.

What about my room? I had an eminently reasonable idea to make it a "rock room," with murals of album covers painted on the walls. I figured one could have Bark at the Moon, one could have Powerslave, one could have Appetite for Destruction, and one could have something completely out of the idiom, like Louder Than Bombs or something.

"No. That’s ridiculous."

Ridiculous? A pale pink room is ridiculous. You try to sell a house with a pale pink room and who’s going to buy it? Someone with a girl. You try to sell a house with some kick-ass album covers muraled on the walls and you know who would buy it? Everyone.

"Ridiculous." Please.

Historicity


There is, I think, an element of historicism to the stuff I put together for a fantasy game. As much as I love fantasy as an idea, I strongly dislike a lot of it in implementation. Religion in particular often rankles me in fantasy stories, and the half-formed cultured that behave irrationally but not interestingly. Too often for my tastes, a fantasy religion is too simple or straightforward. Something potentially fascinating like a fire cult — so much potential! — has little more presentation than “Fire good! Kill protagonist.” Something like a society of cannibals is… just a society of cannibals. “Flesh good! Kill protagonist.”

That, then, is why I think I like this historicity so much. Robert E. Howard said that

There is no literary work, to me, half as zestful as rewriting history in the guise of fiction.

And English fantasist G.K Chesterton remarked

It is the chief value of legend to mix up the centuries while preserving the sentiment; to see all ages in a sort of splendid foreshortening. That is the use of tradition: it telescopes history.

I love that trade in primordial human experience. Howard’s stories plainly depicted the cultures in which he set them, and he unabashedly let the reader know their real-world analogues. Tolkien’s epic The Lord of the Rings draws very heavily from Beowulf and Der Ring Des Nibelungen. I did a lot of the same in Vampire — I plundered history ruthlessly, and placed the vampires inside it. I put the Nibelungs in Demimonde. I do the same in D&D because the presented pantheons don’t speak much to me. I don’t need Bane, Cyric, Corellon Barkchips, or their “toaster evils” and unbelievably simplistic, because-the-sourcebook-says-so dogmas.

Sure, I can accept a flying, invisible, ethereal Halfling that can shoot at-will lightning, but I have to believe why he’s doing it. I don’t need setting-justified gods that lead me down the path of the preprogrammed experience when I have Marduk, Thoth, Lugh, Mithras, Mars, Heimdall, and any number lunatic god-kings who placed themselves among the ranks of the divine. I don’t need Zhentarim, Calimshan, or the drow when I have all of history to draw on, like R.E. Howard did — often barely filing off any serial numbers — with his Shemites, Vendhyans, and Picts. I think they resonate more. I think they strike a chord in the cultural memory of people. And, frankly, they’re just plain cooler because they actually were.

Historicity

There is, I think, an element of historicism to the stuff I put together for a fantasy game. As much as I love fantasy as an idea, I strongly dislike a lot of it in implementation. Religion in particular often rankles me in fantasy stories, and the half-formed cultured that behave irrationally but not interestingly. Too often for my tastes, a fantasy religion is too simple or straightforward. Something potentially fascinating like a fire cult — so much potential! — has little more presentation than “Fire good! Kill protagonist.” Something like a society of cannibals is… just a society of cannibals. “Flesh good! Kill protagonist.”

That, then, is why I think I like this historicity so much. Robert E. Howard said that

There is no literary work, to me, half as zestful as rewriting history in the guise of fiction.

And English fantasist G.K Chesterton remarked

It is the chief value of legend to mix up the centuries while preserving the sentiment; to see all ages in a sort of splendid foreshortening. That is the use of tradition: it telescopes history.

I love that trade in primordial human experience. Howard’s stories plainly depicted the cultures in which he set them, and he unabashedly let the reader know their real-world analogues. Tolkien’s epic The Lord of the Rings draws very heavily from Beowulf and Der Ring Des Nibelungen. I did a lot of the same in Vampire — I plundered history ruthlessly, and placed the vampires inside it. I put the Nibelungs in Demimonde. I do the same in D&D because the presented pantheons don’t speak much to me. I don’t need Bane, Cyric, Corellon Barkchips, or their “toaster evils” and unbelievably simplistic, because-the-sourcebook-says-so dogmas.

Sure, I can accept a flying, invisible, ethereal Halfling that can shoot at-will lightning, but I have to believe why he’s doing it. I don’t need setting-justified gods that lead me down the path of the preprogrammed experience when I have Marduk, Thoth, Lugh, Mithras, Mars, Heimdall, and any number lunatic god-kings who placed themselves among the ranks of the divine. I don’t need Zhentarim, Calimshan, or the drow when I have all of history to draw on, like R.E. Howard did — often barely filing off any serial numbers — with his Shemites, Vendhyans, and Picts. I think they resonate more. I think they strike a chord in the cultural memory of people. And, frankly, they’re just plain cooler because they actually were.

Historicity

I stole the hell out of this picture of a coin because it is real.Crossposted here.

There is, I think, an element of historicism to the stuff I put together for a fantasy game. As much as I love fantasy as an idea, I strongly dislike a lot of it in implementation. Religion in particular often rankles me in fantasy stories, and the half-formed cultured that behave irrationally but not interestingly. Too often for my tastes, a fantasy religion is too simple or straightforward. Something potentially fascinating like a fire cult — so much potential! — has little more presentation than "Fire good! Kill protagonist." Something like a society of cannibals is… just a society of cannibals. "Flesh good! Kill protagonist."

That, then, is why I think I like this historicity so much. Robert E. Howard said that

There is no literary work, to me, half as zestful as rewriting history in the guise of fiction.

And English fantasist G.K Chesterton remarked

It is the chief value of legend to mix up the centuries while preserving the sentiment; to see all ages in a sort of splendid foreshortening. That is the use of tradition: it telescopes history.

I love that trade in primordial human experience. Howard’s stories plainly depicted the cultures in which he set them, and he unabashedly let the reader know their real-world analogues. Tolkien’s epic The Lord of the Rings draws very heavily from Beowulf and Der Ring Des Nibelungen. I did a lot of the same in Vampire — I plundered history ruthlessly, and placed the vampires inside it. I put the Nibelungs in Demimonde. I do the same in D&D because the presented pantheons don’t speak much to me. I don’t need Bane, Cyric, Corellon Barkchips, or their "toaster evils" and unbelievably simplistic, because-the-sourcebook-says-so dogmas.

Sure, I can accept a flying, invisible, ethereal Halfling that can shoot at-will lightning, but I have to believe why he’s doing it. I don’t need setting-justified gods that lead me down the path of the preprogrammed experience when I have Marduk, Thoth, Lugh, Mithras, Mars, Heimdall, and any number lunatic god-kings who placed themselves among the ranks of the divine. I don’t need Zhentarim, Calimshan, or the drow when I have all of history to draw on, like R.E. Howard did — often barely filing off any serial numbers — with his Shemites, Vendhyans, and Picts. I think they resonate more. I think they strike a chord in the cultural memory of people. And, frankly, they’re just plain cooler because they actually were.

Scenarios: Collum’s Bridge and Alta Sikhum

Tuesday 4/28: SHOWDOWN AT COLLUM’S BRIDGE

The wild elves of the Forest Forlorn are on the warpath.

Collum’s Bridge is the only entry into the Forest Forlorn from the village of Welton; the rest is bounded by an impenetrable wall of briars. It’s also the only path that leads into County Fehrgus. If the bridge is closed, Welton is cut off from the rest of the county.

The elves have declared Collum’s Bridge their own.

(Character creation: 2nd level, anything goes. PHB, PHB2, and FRPG are permitted. Backgrounds are allowed.)

Thursday 4/30: RUINS OF ALTA SIKHUM

 


During the reign of Sikhubanipal, Alta Sikhum was the seat of imperial power.

Now, a thousand years after the reign of the Ashurians, Alta Sikhum is little more than a bloody memory. Its people are vanished, but the hollow hulk of the city still remains. Something dwells there – but it’s not what lived there a thousand years ago.

Those investigating the ruins have roused the new tenants, much to their displeasure.

(Character creation: 6th level, anything goes. PHB, PHB2, and FRPG are permitted. Backgrounds are allowed.)

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