When Inspiration Strikes

When ever inspiration strikes, or I want to jot down ideas that’s nots related to my normal daily content this is the category for it.

The Bleak

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Tonight it’s the build up for something I hope to run one day with my own party and The Bleak is where we start, continue and end this short adventure hook. Inspired by an image generated weeks ago in Nightcafe and since, its broiled in the back of my mind and with the DMG coming out in the imminent future – a player run keep could be cool no?

In an interesting turn of events the party are made the custodians of a lone citadel at the edge of the known civilised world known as The Bleak. Taking a job to deliver a message turned into something much larger, much more imposing than what they could have anticipated. But not all is lost and not all seems as wild outside the fortified walls of The Bleak.

But it’s never that simple, there is always something more, just a little bit that gives adventure its name.

The Bleak

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The Bleak – created in nightcafe.

The job was a simple one, beyond simple. Deliver a letter to the warden of some old keep called ‘The Bleak’. When the party had asked about the keep from their employer, messenger’s from the king and queen, they were only too happy to tell them about the local area, the environment, natural resources and rumours around the local area. The pay, goods worth thousands of gold pieces – enough that you could retire on if you wanted and live a comfortable life for a number of years.

The one condition, don’t open the letter. The messenger demonstrated with a duplicate what would happen if they opened it – a pile of ash.

The trek was even easier. The horses were fine steeds gifted to them by the court, well fed and ready for the trek with enough feed to get them by for the week of travel. The roads were, relatively quiet with the first people to try and stop them disappearing quickly one they saw the horses. Game was plentiful, a run in with a pack of wolves was quickly dealt with and a large wyvern flew above them heading in the direction they were.

They should have consulted the seers. This wasn’t the first omen they had seen and anyone in the business knows that there is no amount of easy money that is, in fact, easy. As they climbed the mountain where the keep was positioned they could see through gaps in the rocky surface that beyond the mountains was a rough rocky and barren land. A few shafts of smoke were the only tell-tale sign that there was life out there and they remarked that the land behind them was a fertile paradise compared to what lay beyond.

But they had known this, the kings messenger had described the lands of the keep in great detail. The first few miles into the desert, the mountain range and then up to and including a village they had stayed at last night. It was a large land and there was no sign that this was at the detriment to the keeps success.

The Clause

The party reached the keep at sun down as it cast half the fortress in a glow that made it look like it was made from gold. The gates were closed and they could see a few people standing watch in towers, who, quickly scurried inside when they saw the party.

“Hold!” a voice called from the keep. “A few questions to make sure you’re the ones we’re expecting. It’s not often, if ever, we get visitors so well equipped so please excuse our apprehension.” the man who spoke was old, well mannered and had an air of nobility about him. Satisfied by the response the party heard an loud, audible crack of a ballista that must have been concealed as it undid the tension in its bow.

The man, Cornelius, was a wonderful host and once he had the letter in his possession a whisk of blue rose from the wax seal. He ushered them into the keep and organised for their steeds to go to the stables where they would be housed and well fed. He showed them to the hall where they happily waited for a a little amount of time to get just enough food to fill their bellies. When it was time to retire he showed them to the bed chambers, a large one designed for guards with many bunk beds or rooms that would fit in with inns of good renown.

In the morning they found Cornelius waiting for them with a broad grin. “I hope you’ve found that the keep is to your liking? That’s good as its yours to run now. The letter was proof that you had been chosen to inherit the governance of The Bleak and its lands. I will leave tomorrow morning to give me enough time to fill you in on what you may want to know and the servants and all but two guards will stay here with you. With owning this prestigious piece of land it grands you the titles of Lords and Ladies, so, what would you wish for breakfast my lords and ladies?” he asked with no hostility or malice was to be found in the old mans face.


Thanks for dropping by tonight for a quick length campaign hook. Something tells me that this wont be the last we see of The Bleak. Don’t forget that tomorrow is ZINE night so make sure you come back for that and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

30 Minute Challenge, Raiders Ravine

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So another Saturday has come and something that, after years writing adventures weekly on the blog and for my own Tabletop (which I don’t publish) it shouldn’t be surprising that I hit a creative block on occasion. That’s why I started the 30 minute challenges with tonight I focus once again on something randomly generated and expanding it to a one shot adventure within 30 minutes. Todays 30 minute challenge, Raiders Ravine is to looking the party find when they investigate a series of missing ships and disposed passengers.

As normal I have a few self-imposed restrictions are in place to keep it interesting for me.

Rules of the challenge for me

  • Single word or theme (an image tonight)
  • 30 minute timer
  • Must be a playable adventure
  • Must have at least one driver (Antagonist/protagonist)
  • Must be D&D or RPG centric and attempt to be of the fantasy variety.

Time started: 20:36 AEST

Overview: 

In the Crimson Fjord, an unprecedented number of ships had gone missing. Unlike past incidents involving pirates, storms, or even a white dragon, this time was different. Survivors—passengers, crew, merchants, and guards—were found on the shore, dazed and certain they had been robbed. They all recounted hearing a soft song and seeing a rainbow of colours before waking up in rowboats.

The city, frustrated by the losses, called for adventurers to investigate, claiming a sea monster was to blame. The adventurers set sail with an old, experienced captain. On the second day, after encountering whales, a mist appeared, accompanied by a hypnotic song and shimmering colours. It was a spell, and soon sleek vessels attempted to board their ship. The adventurers fought them off and chased them to a hidden fjord filled with pirate ships and stolen vessels. Now, they had to decide whether to confront the pirates or escape.

30 Minute Challenge, Raiders Ravine

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Raiders Ravine – created in nightcafe.

There had never been a time in the Crimson Fjords history where as many ships had gone missing. There had certainly been times where pirates, storms or even a large aggressive white dragon had taken it upon themselves to destroy the ships leaving or entering the port but lately it had been different.

The passengers, crew, merchants and even guards had all appeared on the shoreline dazed, confused and positive that they had been robbed. Their ships all disappeared and their stories all the same. That they had heard a soft song coming across the waves and then a rainbow of colour before being jostled awake by the waves rocking their row-boats against the shore of the Crimson Fjord.

The city had grown tired of this, let alone the dozens of merchants who had lost merchandise aboard the lost ships. What was more infuriating was that when the it didn’t matter if it was merchants, passenger or military ships they all disappeared with the survivors, of which there were nearly no casualties or missing people sure that they were all innocent and something was hunting them.

The call had gone out for adventurers to investigate with, certain detailed omitted from the report. The city claimed that a sea monster was terrorising the ships, as it was the likely explanation, and that the adventurers would leave on a small ship and investigate what they were dealing with. Not finish the beast off but to merely investigate.

The party had agreed as it appeared that nearly the entire cities worth of merchants had chipped into the reward for the quest. The water in the fjord was calm and soon the chilly sea breeze was carrying the salty sea air to the party as they sailed outwards. Their captain appeared to be too old to care but they had been assured that they were in great company. The old salty sea-dog of a captain drank liquor strong enough to knock a dwarf over but managed to handle the craft like an extension of his own two arms.

On the second day they had seen a pod of large black and white whales that had rubbed against their ship, testing it before heading off to hunt for less wooden prey. However, not an hour after the last signs of the large creatures had head off did a mist appear on the sea spreading out from the land towards them. A mournful song came wafting across the water and the mist began to shimmer with a myriad of colours.

It was a spell. An attempt to put the party under hypnosis, and for some it did albeit temporary, but soon several rough looking sleek vessels had approached the ship and the occupants had attempted to board. After a few moments it was clear that the hired adventurers were not a group to be trifled with and the crafts retreated through the fog towards land.

Giving chase the party came across a second Fjord, a large inlet gave way to sea-side stone buildings and fortifications that swarmed with pirates who started to sound the alarm the moment the adventurers ship was spotted. Within the fjord dozens of ships sat moored sporting colours from just as many different merchant, a naval and mercenary companies. The party had found the source of the missing ships, now they had to either deal with the problem of fight escape.

Objective

The objective with this example is really two choices. The party can attempt to fight through the pirates (either subtly or directly) or they can return to the port city of the Crimson Fjord and provide information, being chased by pirates the entire way of course.

Time finished: 20:56 AEST


Thanks for dropping by tonight for a quick adventure writeup. Let me know if you’d like to see more of these style quick-writeups in the future. Don’t forget that tomorrow is ZINE night so make sure you come back for that and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

30 Minute Challenge, Forgotten Guard

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So another Saturday has come and instead of following the trend of a Openlegend RPG character from the previous weeks I wanted a change. Tonight I wanted to go back an do a 30 minute challenge focusing on something randomly generated and expanding it to a one shot adventure within 30 minutes. Todays 30 minute challenge, Forgotten Guard is to looking at what a forgotten guard could entail using, mainly, my experience as a avid TTRPGer and DM.

The normal self-imposed restrictions are in place.

Rules of the challenge for me

  • Single word or theme
  • 30 minute timer
  • Must be a playable adventure
  • Must have at least one driver (Antagonist/protagonist)
  • Must be D&D centric and attempt to be of the fantasy variety.

Time started: 21:04 AEST

Overview: The party stumbles upon an ancient, overgrown temple deep within a mystical forest. Legends speak of a powerful artefact hidden within, guarded by the spirits of an ancient order of warriors known as the Forgotten Guard.

30 Minute Challenge, Forgotten Guard

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The party have heard rumours, tall tales of a temple within a dense, enchanted forest that holds unclaimed riches and an artefact of such power that a legion of knights thought it dangerous enough to seclude themselves away from the world to guard. The tales, mainly from drunken bards, go so far as to claim that the knights are still haunting the temple, forever cursed to guard the treasure that they swore their lives to defend.

It is all thought to be tall tales until the party are approached by one such bard, an older elf, while in the Half-moon tavern. Supposedly he had heard from a group of adventurers that they were chased out of the nearby forest by a host of spectral knights after the had discovered a vine and moss covered temple. Ancient and crumbling but still defended so keenly by these spectral soldiers.

The bard offers them a small sum of gold if they could accompany him to the temple in order to locate it. He wants to be the first to record the temple and tell the tale of the heroic adventurers who discovered what lay behind the phalanx of ghastly guardians. It’s riches would be split twenty – eighty with the bard claiming what they found most valuable but only after the party had the first sweep of what treasures lay within.

The trip to the temple was non-eventful and it was mid-afternoon by time they reached the forest where the bard had heard that the adventurers had ran from. He consulted a hand-drawn map (on the back of a napkin from the tavern) and moved them further along the road before pointing confidently deeper into the forest.

A few hours later and nearing dusk they came across the first evidence that they were nearing a building. Rocky pillars stretched through the trees, vines and other vegetation like ribs of a colossal creature. A discarded new shield with a large cut from a broad blade was discarded near the track they had travelled towards the temple a long with a pouch of what appeared to be spell components.

As they approached the rumours appeared to be true with several armoured spectres drifting from the building to create a barricade to the door. Behind them, resting against the door lay the skeletons of knights a rusty long sword, remains of a rotten shield and tarnished and pox-marked plate lay.

The confrontation was intense and vicious with the bard calling out to them with unhelpful suggestions. However the music that the bard played as she fumbled the lyrics to a song he was crafting on the fly gave pause to the knights who began to hesitate in their reckless attacks against the party. The last of the guards fell and the old temple doors lay closed and rotting.

As they pushed through the doors the skeletons from the fallen knights crumbled inwards causing the metal weapon, armour and bossing on the shield to clang loudly.

“Who disturbs the forgotten, who comes to claim which should not be” A voice rose from the ground at the end of the antechamber.

A voice from the back, the elven bard, strode forward “Sir Tamell…” he said with a shaky voice.

“It can not be. Ymrick?” An imposing figure manifested from the ground and stood in between the pews. “My friend, you have grown old.” the knight called back.

“It is not I who has grown old. Tamell, you must rest. You’re a shade of what you used to be and I can not bear to see you like this.” Ymrick, the elven bard, replied.

“I see you are not alone. Your companions have proven strong by besting my brothers. If their intentions are to take the artefact and use its power then I can not let them live, unless.” he said as he brought forth a spectral great sword. “Best me in fair combat and I will relinquish the artefact to you and consider my oath fulfilled.”

Objective

The party should aim to beat the knight or find another way to grab the wand on the alter behind the large spectral knight. If they beat him fairly in combat (all vs one is fine) then he will dissipate along with several other ghostly knights who came to watch.

If the party engage in non-honourable tactics then the knights on the sides of the room will open fire with spectral bolts from crossbows as they broke the code of honour.

Time finished: 21:32 AEST


Thanks for dropping by tonight for a quick adventure writeup. Let me know if you’d like to see more of these style quick-writeups in the future. Don’t forget that tomorrow is ZINE night so make sure you come back for that and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Turning point for a Highwayman

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Tonight I wanted to take a moment to breathe and focus on something else that I am passionate about, and the Turning point for a Highwayman. After a long week and a longer night with the kids it can be hard to drive forward with what meagre plans I did have. So I wanted to capture a short story inspired by the bed time story for my daughter.

Turning point for a Highwayman

A Thief

The feel of cold steel never worried or concerned him. In fact it had been his companion since losing his job at the inn after he had been caught taking food home. They never got through it all and what they didn’t they reused the next day. He had seen the food that was left over from the day and it wasn’t going to be any good the next day. So what was the harm in him taking some home? He was always hungry and the food went to other good places too. But apparently his theft wasn’t just enough for the owners and they fired him. At least they didn’t get the guards to drag him out.

Well until he went back and robbed them. It was easy to get in and out and take what he was owed. But this meant he could never go back home. But he did discover that he had a knack for thievery and so he tried to take it to the next town. Except, he didn’t make it to the next town. His next big theft was on the road.

Highway man

The wagon of a merchant is a prone vehicle to thievery. In fact there were more thefts on the roads than actually in towns. The first thing he took was a small chest and a sword. The thrill of the theft was so much that he didn’t even bother checking the chest before leaving the wagon, none the wiser mind you. But he should have checked. A spare change of clothes. Long fancy pants, a shirt, vest, and hat. Not exactly his style but when he put them on he couldn’t recognise himself any more. Adding his old trusty belt and the cloak he stole from the inns front door as he left he was ready.

His next theft was when he ambushed a carriage. Using his old work down clothes he made it look like he had fellows in bushes around the carriage. It was easy to convince the driver and inhabitants to give him half of their coins and all the food he had on him. Especially when he shifted and his body distorted.

Shifter

The term lycanthrope, or were-creature was thrown around too much when he was young. It wasn’t his choice of fault that he was what he was. But born from the offspring of a wererat and a human what were you going to do. Being able to change his body to a more bestial nature gave him an edge. No one wanted to be turned and so the sight of his claws, elongated fangs and snout. Well it was enough to make any one comply. However it w as his words and manners that made the most difference.

When he spoke he asked politely, never threatened with outright violence. No that wasn’t for him. Asking for valuables and food was easy when people listened to the well dressed potential-lycanthrope. Until he pulled over the wrong carriage that is.

It was winter and he had made a name for himself. The Gentleman Rat. Not super fond of the name but having a reputation did help. But as he was pulling over the next carriage he recognised one of the inhabitants, two to be accurate. One of the two people in his home town that liked him. Well, liked what he used to be. A friend.

Turning point for a Highwayman

She, Merian, was huddled next to her elderly father, unwell by the looks of it, and judging by the direction they were going it wasn’t good. The city in the direction they were heading too consisted of some of the best and most powerful clerics that he had heard of. It must not have been good news for Merian and her father to be heading to Foresithe. The sight of them drained any urge to rob and thieve or even to threaten. He simply smiled, placed a pouch of coins in their shaking hands and stepped away. His bestial features melting away as the first rains of the evening began.

As he watched the carriage head down the road he wondered how many people his unchecked thievery had hurt. When he had worked at the Inn he had always prided on making sure that everyone had want for nothing. Returning to camp he looked at the riches he had. Never hungry for food any more he had somewhere along the way forgotten why he took the extra food from the inn. It was to feed those who couldn’t afford the food normally. To make use of food that would be tossed aside or reused at the risk of clientele. Well no more would he steal from the innocent. He hung up his hat and his fancy clothes and picked out something more comfortable. Tomorrow… Tomorrow he would take what he had and try and prevent others from turning to thievery.

Thanks for joining me tonight for this little re-take on a, quite popular, book. The idea of a rat-shifter highway man may not be something unique but as someone who is always on the lookout for more NPCs, or PCs, then the idea is intriguing. With the ruleset for shifters in 5e they can be quite strong if used correctly. So giving them a re-viewing of a old tragic backstory for one of redemption could make for a fun character.

Don’t forget that tomorrow we both continue and finish this weeks adventure. So make sure to come back for that and don’t forget to keep an eye out for what else is on the horizon. And lastly don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

30 Minute Challenge, Train

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So Saturday has come and with it brings a opportunity for a writing challenge. Todays challenge is to write an an adventure whilst on a train, about a train.

The normal restrictions are in place.

Rules of the challenge for me

  • Single word or theme
  • 30 minute timer
  • Must be a playable adventure
  • Must have at least one driver (Antagonist/protagonist)
  • Must be D&D centric and attempt to be of the fantasy variety.

30 Minute Challenge, Train

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The party have been recruited to escort goods along a long stretch of road. Their employer is a paranoid gnome inventor who made his name known for creating constructs that can pull several wagons along that dont need food or rest. But they do require heat to provide the energy for their movement.

The goods in question are also one of his inventions. Steel hounds, dog like constructs that work like his wagon pulling constructs by turning heat into life. Burning wood, alcohol or anything else in their internal compartment will bring the construct to life.

Now the paranoia comes from a group of mercenaries trying to bully the inventor into giving them the steel hounds. He is moving them to a secure location as well as selling a few to a fiefdom to the east.

The convoy starts moving. Each series of three wagons is linked together with the six legged oxen like constructs tied to the wagon infront and behind them. During the first day they notice a group of riders travelling in the same direction but think nothing of it. However as they move further into the week long journey the riders are persistent and start to close the distance.

The first attacks come from a swarm of hawks attacking the party member’s, attacking the wagons constructs where the party isn’t available. During this attack some riders make it onto the wagon and activate a handful of the steel hounds using wooden bits of the wagon. The hounds and the attackers then move through the wagons attacking the party and looking for the gnome.

Moving between the series of 3 wagons ans the construct pulling them is dangerous but doable. If done slowly and tethering to guide ropes its safe but a slow journey. If not, creatures risk falling through the gaps and under the wagons behind them. The steel hounds are particularly poor at moving across these gaps due to their weight and construction.

The leader is a particularly good shot with a longbow and rides next to the wagon and will shoot at who ever appears at windows or tries to cross the 9 wagons. His crew know his tactics and generally avoid the windows, occasionally talking amongst themselves about why they avoid windows (incase the party are listening).

The front of the wagon series the inventor has six steel hounds activated with alchemists fire. He explains that this is particularly dangerous as the fuel source burns quickly and is volatile. The constructs reflect this and are more aggressive, attacking anyone not the one who activated them and if the containment vessel is damaged they explode. The damage is equivalent to a 360 arc of burning hands being cast from the hounds torso.

Once the leader is dead they all retreat. If it doesn’t die but his men do then he will retreat with them to fight another time (and adventure).


A nice steampunk-esque vibe to this adventures. Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for more content and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Three hundred nights

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For three hundred nights he returned to the same place, the same four walls started to haunt him. For three hundred nights he questioned the darkening room if the his insanity was imagined. On the three hundredth night the darkness answered back.

It wasn’t that the task was impossible, it was barely difficult most of the time it was just that it was different. Instead of joining the others of his family in their habits and rituals he put pen to paper and wrote. He wrote for the hell of it, he wrote for fun and he wrote to get the voices from his mind into a book. Somewhere they wouldn’t intrude upon his waking moments.

The voices at the beginning were scattered, unbridled and unfocused. Erratic at best but cohesive at the same time. A true complex being like none other he had dared to imagine before. With time they became structured, reigning in that power within the void of his mind he channelled the raw potential towards tasks. And from power, quiet and darkness life was born.

At first it was simple things, little things. People and places, things and occurrences. Good and bad, happy and not so much. Inspiration was taken from day to day life and that spark of creative energy created a torrent of imagined fire that tore across the pages of the paper and etched in an image of a world foreign yet familiar.

The darkness spoke, the pages questioned and the darkness answered in time.

Parents, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands and friends all came forward with questions. Requests were spoken and the solution was murmured to the darkness where the heroes lay in wait to answer their call. They answered the call to write the wrongs, to find the lost and defend the defenceless. The wrong doers, the villains of this sprawling world contained within his mind fought for control and supremacy of thought. Some nights they won and the heroes in the dark corners of the room were forced to seek aid from high powers, from others.

Puppets on strings is all they were, but the puppeteer was not to be seen. The forces of good and evil both waged a war that was predetermined from the initial conception of their weekly fate. A course set in the stars, in the charts of man and the paths of beasts determined where the sword fell and where arrows soared.

For three hundred nights the man returned to the dark room. But, darkness has a strange way of finding the light. As the light grew the temptation to reject the raw power the dark offered. The comfort in silence and in numbness to the outside world. In the dark there was nothing more, no colour, no person, nothing to distract from the task. In the dark the monsters battled the heroes of the nightly test and he witnessed it all and scribed it down.

A chamber of dark is prone to summoning the light.

For in the light there were monsters as well. Oh yes monsters dwelled there too. In fact he learned that for each positive force of creativity there are equal and sometimes more powerful force of deconstruction. Deconstruction as opposed to destruction as these monsters taunted from around the chamber. Across the room hidden behind barely visible forcefields the monsters called out for him. They begged for release, for the attention they craved and they needed. For they could only survive if attention provided them opportunity to take the power that dwelt within the man.

The power waxed and waned as his attention drifted. The more the creatures pulled his pen from paper the harder it became to return to the dark. They moved his mind from transcribing the world that only he saw one that only he could record. These beasts, not always terrifying and horrible sometimes beautiful barred his path. One which would see him return to the power of creativity. The one he wielded with deafened ears and closed eyes.

For three hundred nights he contemplated what the purpose of his scribbles were. The recording of a world that a random few were privy to, one where everything was intangible yet very real to him. The rises and falls of power of those that inhabited the land ceased to exist when pen forgot paper. The creatures milled arounds hills and marshes and looked at the settlements of men. In fact they could only ever just watch. For without the spark of creation, the inspiration of the scriber they were unable to move and to fulfil their purpose.

The time to summon the dark again beckoned but the scriber was adrift.

The heroes grew tired and rusty. Indeed, no longer were they able to perform grand acts of bravery for without him they were nothing but shadows in the corner of a room. Light had worked its way into the life of the scribe and with it brought a sense of peace. The voices were muted behind the lights and the distractions the light brought. Gone was the sharp focus that the darkness had brought to him. Others of his kind had infiltrated the chamber of scripture and pulled him away from his task with promises of merriment and leisure. At times the he forgot the power that the darkness had offered him. With the fall of the darkness the voices that spoke to him of people, creatures and places also fled from the light.

However he did not anticipate the power the darkness held over him and his mind. Soon the voices became disorganised and rose in volume. Creatures began to preach of revolution. Heroes pillaged and burned and the villages that had been built over three hundred nights vanished. He looked upon the world he was a guest to and lamented, what had he done? Nothing was the response from the darkness.

Picking up the pen was the easiest decision he had made in a long time, in fact three hundred nights to be exact. Gazing into the world and extinguishing the light he plunged his mind into darkness again. Blocking out the sound of life throughout the attached chambers and retreating back to those four hallowed walls he put pen to paper. The heroes returned and marched against the forces of evil. Villages rebuilt, creatures scurried and thundered across plains and through forests and the great god-beasts of his mind bellowed out.

Back to the darkness to save a world hidden to all.

The darkness had brought him back, had shown him what the distractions the light had to offer. He realised that there was power in the darkness, in blocking out the noise of the light. In fact the same power that powered the spark of creativity also powered the distractions the light offered. He realised that now and a world with both light and darkness awaited.

Brazenly candid for a moment.

Tonight I wanted to get some thoughts onto page. The effort of writing consistently and consecutively for three hundred nights in a row comes with a price. Even if the writing comes naturally, even with a plan and a framework there is always distractions.

New technology, changes in the family dynamic, changes at work outside the ‘dark‘ of the office and in the light of the outside all influence my ability to write. There have been times that I have wondered if I should stray from the path I have set myself on, that I wonder if I had done enough. But these distractions and the pang of longing to return to my writing tells me I have done the right thing in sticking it out.

So tonight I wanted to reflect on three hundred (and three as of this blog update) nights of consecutive writing with Afflictions True Nature. Seeing my little gathering of readers grow is reward in itself. I hope that this coming year I will be able to push it up to the next level where I promote myself a bit more, clean up my content to a higher standard that I want to set myself too and produce content that people actively seek out.

Tomorrow…

That will be all from me tonight. Don’t forget tomorrow is my end of month big write-up so drop by and and check it out. Next week marks the last leg of the journey for the party. I will ask that if you are continuing to join me for this final leg of the year that you let me know your thoughts on my experiment this year. Should I do another year long campaign or should I try something different? Send me a message or leave a comment below.

And, before I head off for the night, don’t forget to keep focus of what drives you. Find your own power, your own call to the dark where the peace, and lack of distractions from the light of screens, shiny new graphics cards or devices is kept at bay behind closed eyelids and blocked ears… or loud music playing through noise cancelling headphones.

Take care everyone and don’t forget to continue to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Magnus Vex – school days

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As the sun rose and peaked through the window above his bed he knew the farce was up. Sighing he pulled the pillow off from his face as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked around his room.

The Sony’s light was slowly blinking yellow, obviously he had forgotten to turn it off after playing witcher last night. He’d already clocked if a few times over but he just loved the game. He couldn’t explain what it was but immersing himself in a fantasy setting just felt so right to him.

Standing up and picking an older T-shirt from the not-so-dirty pile he looked at the calendar on the back of his door. With a loud groan he realised it was three weeks until his birthday. His guardians had insisted that he invite some friends over but he wasn’t one for friends. He found it hard to connect with kids and normally kept to himself. That and his guardians were an embarrassment.

His ‘dad’ was a collector of things. He never spoke about work but the den was filled with trinkets and oddities. Magnus thought he was an archaeologist or tomb-raider but when he spoke he wasn’t cool enough for that. So Magnus had to deal with a lot of very old very weird things like ancient voodoo fetishes and staffs made from human bones and skin. Super weird shit.

His ‘mum’ on the other hand was a black widow. The boys at school all teased him on how good his mum looked and it got to his nerves. Whilst his dad was a hulking easy six feet tall and built broader than most football players his mum was thin, athletic and terrifying. She was russian and he wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be an assassin or spy like black widow from the avengers.

Leaving his room he was greeted by silence. His guardians were rarely home and when they were they spoke to each other like team mates or colleagues from work.

Walking down the stairs, his skinny frame and mop of dark hair completing his “hipster but not cool” look of jeans, boots, his anime T-shirt and a light jacket that was there to keep his skinny ass warm in an Australian Autumn. “Mag. Bus is here in five minutes!” Erin called out, his mum.

“Thanks Erin.” He said as he entered the kitchen and looked at the store bought lunch kit that sat on the bench. She did not cook. “Gerald will be out of town for a bit so its just us” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Sounds good. Maybe you can teach me some karate or jujitsu? I want to learn” he said as he stuffed a square of cheddar cheese and a slab of ham in his mouth. Looking up at the clock as Erin thought about it he saw he was late. “Shit. Got to go. See you tonight Erin!” He said as he ran out of the kitchen, down the hall and out the door to the bus stop at the end of the block.

He made it with a bit of time to spare and checked his bag for everything. Shit. He forgot his lunch. As he contemplated going back he sensed someone standing next to him.

“Hi. I’m Alice” the person said standing next to him in full school uniform for his school. “It’s my first day.” She said with a nervous smile.

“Uhh.. I’m cute. I mean you’re cute. I mean I’m Magnus. But everyone calls me Mag..” he said with potentially the highest amount of stuttered words ever. He cursed himself as he turned towards the bus that was arriving. Saved by the bus. Alice just giggled and blushed.

Stepping up onto the bus Magnus plopped himself down in the first seat available, next to the driver. It was a pretty full bus today. Looked out the window at the suburban houses. When he felt the seat move next to him he groaned inwardly as he realised Alice ha sat next to him.

“So Mag. What do you do for fun around here?” Alice asked, still a bit flushed in the cheeks. As the bus moved forward with a lurch she slid on the seat a bit and bumped into him. “S-s-sorry” she stammered as she moved away hurriedly.

“Don’t worry about it. Uhh. Well I guess kids go shopping at the mall. It’s not much but it’s ok for a small to..” he began to say before the bus stopped abruptly. Magnus looked out the window just in time to see Erin knocking on the bus door holding his lunch.

“no-no-no..” he muttered as he tried to hide but it was too late. She had spotted him and the bus driver opened the door.

“you ran off so fast that you left your lunch. Growing boys need proteins, fats and minerals to ensure healthy maturation.” She said as she gave him the bag of food. “I’ll see you at home around six. I’ve got a client to see…” And with that she turned and left the bus. The girls laughed and giggled the boys, after closed their mouth whistled loudly.

“uhh.. was that your mum?” Alice asked holding in laughter.

“she’s not my mum… She just looks after me..” Magnus replied as the bus took off again with the chorus of whoops and laughter.

“well… She was a pretty hot mum…” Alice said in a muffled voice as Magnus groaned at the start of another shitty day at school.

Fall of the Sovereign

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As Lord Tyson Tearn’swallow scurried off with the handful of infantry and the calls of rage from Duke Vorn as he charged headlong into the melusai to by Tyson time the Ghast Courtier looked down at Krak who’s wounds were severe.

“You men. Stand here and hold off those cursed snakes. The rest of me on the king!” he shouted as two flying knights came into view. The two massive women nodded to the king and threw themselves into the khinerai as their shadow queen charged towards Vorn as he tore apart more melusai.

The attack on the daughters of the god of murder had been in vain. There was no glory here only death and two kings had died fighting valiantly as the snakes twisted and coiled around their dragons in their death throws.

The Shadow Queen and Morathi would claim the crown. The Sovereignty had fallen from Krak Crowncleaver and it would take some time until his forces would be strong enough to try and best such an intimidating foe.

Hail to our Sovereign

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Hello and welcome to a small update for the end of my Warhammer dedicated week. Tonight I wanted to give a final hail to our Sovereign and post some photos of the painting I managed to get done this week for my Flesh eater courts.

Hail to our Sovereign

234HaToOuSo

The Journey to my darkly themed ghouls.

Primed in citadels Grey seer
Gryph charger congrast applied in two thinned coats
Wildwood contrast applied to hair
Model darkened with Basilicanum Grey
Skeleton horde and Volupus Pink contrast paints

While not step-by step guides I managed to push through and get two models that sat primed but not fully painted done over the weekend too. The Ghoulish pile of shame has shrunk by a few hundred points.

While I stress over cleaning up the ghouls a bit more over the next few weeks in preparation for the local tournament I wanted to capture some of the progress I made.

The other thing left to do is reveal the results of my matchup against Skaven from the other night – so let’s see if my memory can go through the results from the two armies posted Friday.

As Krak and Liss’s combined forced crested the hill the buildings around them rustled to life as the horde of Skaven had been uncovered. The infantry, the serfs of Krak’s court surged forward to create a defensive line between themselves and their king as dark magic whisked through the air and the Kings called their warriors to the field.

Another champion, some winged knights and more ghouls appeared on the far left flank, staking territory around a suspicious warp-filled hole that had appeared in the ground whilst Liss contemplated the battlefield. As her forces surged forward towards a cache of powerful realmstone so did the rats and soon the serfs, courtiers, knights and dragons were outnumbered and it thought the cache lost. That’s when the ground quaked and a great bridge forged from bone appeared. from across the bridge bounded rat ogors, whipped into a frenzy and their charge didn’t stop there as they bounded into the serfs that defended the kings. On the flank more rat ogors charged the reinforcements that had come to assist the kings and the impact alone saw the infantry torn down to a handful of survivors, the knights also lost a man. Defending Krak the infantry savaged the other rat ogors, cutting them down with fervour however in their death frenzy they fought back, killing the noble defenders and their supporting courtier. Alloren and her dragon didn’t take kindly to their invasion and struck back removing the ogors and suffering a few small scratches as payment.

A cheer broke out from somewhere amongst the masses but just as it commenced it died down again with the re-emergence of an equal number of rat ogors near their foul master.

It was time for the court to go on the offensive. After a phenomenal mustering the flanking serfs and courtier, a mighty Varghulf, positioned themselves to charge into the enemies flank and remove their pesky hero’s who could return the ogors to life. The dragon and terrorgheist moved forward supported by more ghouls as they prepared to charge through enemy lines and remove threats.

The terrorgheist swallowed a master moulder whole, devoured clan rats and removed half the rat ogors from their pack. The infantry and Lady Alloren removed more ghouls and pushed in deeper to stake a claim to the cache of realmstone. The counter charge was brutal with a verminlord warbringer declaring a vendetta against lady Alloren and after a ferocious duel Lady Alloren and her dragon were lost, but not without Thanquol almost being devoured whole by Duke Wicksplitter’s mount. But the cowardly rat fled from the conflict as the rat ogor’s pressed their advantage.

With the fall of the King the serfs were rattled and a charge from rat ogors nearby saw the end to the infantry threatening the skaven daemonlord. However, more infantry had appeared on the far Skaven flank and it was at this crucial turning point that Krak knew he had victory within grasp.

Weathering the counter charge of the rats Duke Will charged in ferociously. Removing rat ogors, killing the verminlord before making another push towards Thanquol and the pesky master moulder. However a counter push from the Rat ogors shortly after saw the terrorgheist flee the battlefield but not before feasting on the last of the rat ogors with no more to return to the field. The new reinforcements from the flank had engaged with more clan rats and victory in that skirmish was within the grasp of Kraks Forces. That was until the realmstone Cache ruptured sending shards across the battlefield. One into well defended Skaven territory and one to land at Kraks feet.

Thanquol made his presence felt removing all the serfs from the battlefield with his mounts terrifying warpfire – but, Krak and Liss sent out a call for aid and twice it was answered. With only the Master moulder to support him Thanquol and his puppet retreated from the battlefield and complete victory was claimed for the forces of Krak Crowncracker and Liss Lipsnatcher.

Thanks for joining me tonight for more Warhammer content. Don’t forget to come back this week as we resume out normal D&D content – apart from hobby updates over the next few weeks that is – as we see our party march towards the wall. Don’t forget to keep an eye out for the league results, I will post them this week and, always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Gore Matted Fur

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Hello and welcome to a small update post for tonight. As predicted in last nights blog I took my ghoulish list and clashed against a good friends Skaven and boy was it a bloodbath. In addition to Gore Matted Fur and a large feast for the surviving members of Krak’s Court many lessons were learnt across both sides of the table. So tonight I wanted to provide my final list, my opponents list and a scene from the end of the match…

Gore Matted Fur

234GoMaFu

Liss and Krak stalked across the field of dead. Lord Tyson Tearn’swallow darted hear and there directing a handful of infantry that had managed to survive the inferno and raw power that the Skaven had managed to muster as they assaulted one of the nearby towns that Krak had under his control.

Tyson scurried forth and bowed low between the two rulers, both of which were holding back their bloodlust at the carnage around them. “We found Lady Alloren, she will live. And Duke Will Wicksplitter is trying to reign in his terrorgheist as its given into its bloodshed. We lost ninety infantry, Lady Allorens dragon, Lord Carth Bonenibbler and some of our mounted knights” he said as he shrank away from Liss. Liss looked across the battlefield hungrily.

“What did they lose?” she asked as she saw more ghouls pouring over the hills towards the great feast.

“Close to Eighty putrid Rat-men, twelve of their brutish rat ogor, some of which appeared to spring out of the ground at the call of their masters, which we will remember. We banished their deamon lord who fled through a gateway and Duke Wicksplitter almost managed to kill that wizard-rat on massive ogoroid – but he fled the battlefield too with the one remaining beast master on their end. A master Moulder I think they were called.” Lord Tyson said at last.

Good. It was a good fight and the bodies left behind would fuel the replenishment of her army. Even now she witnessed the other courtiers that joined them on the battlefield pushing their way from under the piles of dead.

Krak called to his remaining serfs, his beloved ferocious zealots did not survive the initial combat with the brutish, hulking rat-men abominations – but the presence of Liss and her chosen had pushed the fight in his favour and routed the cowardly rat-men from his lands. Not that he would admit it. As he picked his way through the pile of bodies and gore mattered fur he knew that this war for sovereignty was not over.

“Sire,” a skittish voice said from near by. “The knights and scouts you sent out have come back saying that there is a gathering of worshippers of Khaine on their way to your lands. If we prepare now and strike a decisive blow against their leader, Morathi, I am sure that we will emerge victorious” said the ghoul.

Nodding he looked towards the direction he sent his men and women. War was upon him again and like it or not he would have to rely on Queen Liss again.

Thanks for joining me tonight. I will post the results and a replay of the battle this weekend but it was close. In fact down to a matter of two points in the end. Don’t forget to join me this weekend for some more hobby updates and, always, don’t forget to roll with advantage re-roll those ones,
The Brazen Wolfe