Near the Traveler’s Gate, the most used entrance to the Imperial capitol city of Zalash, on the Grand Boulevard that runs from the Gate to the Imperial Palace, there is a tavern and inn called the Magnificent Mimic. It is actually run by, and partially formed by, a mimic colony that decided there were better ways to get what they wanted, and it’s a very popular destination.
So, like entirely too many D&D gamerunners, I’m in the process of building my own gameworld for running adventures in.
I know it has. I haven’t posted in a few years. And there are a lot of reasons.
- A dearth of creative flow.
- Mental health issues.
- Letting myself believe writing wasn’t “that important”.
But at the end of the day, it was just me getting tired of dealing with myself. And then the madness that was Life In The Time Of COVID-19 happened. Click to continue reading.
Juliette d’Aubigniy sighed. She had been enjoying a glass of good wine and the attention of a young lady that promised to lead to a very lively evening (especially since the gentleman with the lady was coming around to the idea that he might enjoy giving and receiving the attentions of the two ladies) and then this. Click to continue reading.
Gregory Darwin – Grondanar – was my first Shadowrun character. Strong and huge, we joked that if they made a prebuilt archetype for him it would be “Troll Bunker”. He carried a huge backpack so that when the team mage inevitably passed out from spellcasting, we could just put him into the rucksack and keep going until he woke up. He also got some bioware to increase his intelligence, took some correspondence courses, got a license for real estate, laundered a lot of his gains as Grondanar to the accounts of Gregory Darwin, and ended up getting into construction.
By current game year of 2080, though, he’s pretty elderly for a troll, and I thought it would be nice to start a campaign by making one of his fondest wishes come true.
And finally, she rested.
The moment she woke up, Eiko Takashima knew things were weird.
She was lying on something that was hard, warm, and slightly angled. In fact, her feet were hanging off into space. Her face was warm, her eyelids had light shining through them, and her hands felt oddly heavy. She then remembered that she was wearing the BREAQER gauntlets, and then the memory came flooding back.
Eight Months Ago:
“Madame,” the great grey eminence thundered, “your corporation has not gone unnoticed. You have accumulated too much power and wealth for someone like you,” and here he sneered, “to be allowed to go unhindered. You will sell stock in your company, you will allow us to change it as we will, and you will stop this ridiculous idea that your corporation should help people instead of making greater profits! If you do not, we will break you, we will destroy your company, and then, just to make it perfectly clear to everyone what happens when you defy us, we will have you killed. We’ve done it before.” Click to continue reading.
The capitol of Andoran was bright, warm, and had a great and open plaza called the Field of Concord. Mostly used for mercantile pursuits, it also had a number of places where performers would play, some prepaid and some professional buskers.
Juliette d’Aubigniy was one of the latter. Her instrument case lay before her as she played her fiddle, sang, and danced (sometimes one, sometimes two, and a few times all three at once). She had gathered a rather decent crowd, her auburn locks swinging about as she performed, and she was pleased with the amount of money she had made.