Ko’lel Theorycrafting

I’ve been following the development of Super Fantasy Brawl. If you’ve stopped by over the last couple of weeks you may have noticed.

One of the things I love about fantasy worlds and stories is the theorycrafting. The conversations that come up about the characters, storylines, and the possibilities. My brother and I will spend hours discussing the Marvel and DC Cinematic Universes.

Where I run into a stumbling block with Super Fantasy Brawl in regards to this is that none of my immediate friends are into the game and the world; I’m working on it. This gives me no one to talk to. The other hurdle is that there isn’t a lot of it available yet.

However, I’m a lunatic and wanted to take a crack at one of these bits of lore I sort of stumbled into. I’m going to start with a little history for people who aren’t up on this stuff and to set a baseline of what I know.

Image from Super Fantasy Brawl from Mythic Games

This is a very basic overview. Fabulosa is a world of magic and peace. People gathered and discussed the heroes of old. Then as people do they began to argue over who was the best. In order to put long arguments to rest champions are summoned from throughout time and sent to an arena to fight in teams of three. This is the Super Brawl.

The winners of the Super Brawl will get a wish granted. Each of the revealed champions fighting in the arena have been recruited and pulled from the different points in their lives to fight one another. They’ve all agreed to this.

As players we don’t know how they will decide who wins the tournament for story purposes. I suspect that if they hold a grand championship at some point the team used to win the event will be the team that wins season one. These heroes will get their wishes granted and get to remember what happened.

For the purposes of this theory I’m going to suggest what if Ko’lel is one of the winners.

This theory started when Stu and Az were having a match on a livestream during the Kickstarter Campaign. I made the comment in chat that Ko’lel’s back story made her essentially the gnomish John Wick. The two of them stopped playing to discuss whether or not this was true and what it meant for the character. One of the things that came up was the question, “if she was John Wick then who would kill To’paque, her chameleaptor.”

The general train of thought came down to it would either be the Fabulosa equivalent of the Russian Mob, some type of bear, or the Moontouched, werewolves her people were at war with. After they got to this point they got back on track and resumed playing the game. This sparked a question in me. It also gave me the final piece of my theory.  

During the war with the Moontouched the Yunkayan Forest was destroyed and Ko’lel’s people scattered. Her wish is to see her forest saved and her people restored. So, if she wins and gets her lands and people restored then that’s where the problem comes in at.

If they go with the John Wick comparison and kill To’paque it has to be one of her own people that does it. Most likely the son of a chieftain or other tribal leader. Then when she goes to demand reparations, trial by combat, justice, or whatever method of vindication her people use the killer’s father will try and stop her. Most likely by hiding their child and ordering Ko’lel killed.

This will start the downward spiral of death, murder, and revenge that will eventually lead to Ko’lel doing what she’s really good at. I honestly think the last thing that will happen in this is that she’ll be standing on a hill watching a major city burn. A city that had once been a cultural center. It will be on fire, people will be panicked, terrified, and broken. Worst of all it will have been her actions that caused the destruction.

In the span of a few days she’ll have done the thing the moontouched army couldn’t succeed at. She’ll have completely destroyed her people. I think in that moment with full knowledge of what she had to do to save the forest and her people; all of the fighting and work she did to succeed. In that moment she’ll close her eyes and ask to go back to the arena. She’ll ask to go back to the fight.

And they’ll take her because now she’s a different legend. Before she rode into battle on To’paque and they were a team. Now she fights alone and the question becomes is she still champion material without her friend. I think they’ll take her back and offer her a second wish. I’m just not sure if she’ll ask to save her people again, save To’paque, or be allowed to face the chieftain’s son in combat.

I accept that this story is horribly tragic and the definition of be careful what you wish for. I really hope I’m wrong and she doesn’t have this chain of events happen. However, I also hope I’m right, because a good bit of tragedy makes for the best heroes.

Luke had to lose his hand to find his father. The fellowship had to fail in getting Frodo to Mount Doom in order to all be in the right place to defeat Sauron. Thomas and Martha Wayne had to die for there to be a Batman. Does that mean that Yunkayan has to burn for Ko’lel to learn what’s really important in life? I don’t know.

I can’t wait to find out, though.

Prey for the Hunters

I'm very inspired by this universe and can't wait to learn more about its lore. I honestly have a question I'll probably fire off over the next couple of days just to see what folks think. Anyway, I'm not sure if these characters have ever met but I thought this would be a fun way to have them run into one another.

Hopefully it's at least possible. Let me know what you think in the comments.

Image from Super Fantasy Brawl by Mythic Games. 

Night was falling. Deryn swore. Her prey would be harder to follow in the dark. There would be no moon this evening. It would make finding her quarry nearly impossible.

After four days she was nearly on him. He must be close the tale tell foot prints were getting deeper. The mud was fresher. Not having dried from lengthy exposure to the air. She’d guessed she was near his location.

*Snap*

Deryn crouched down and side stepped into the heavy foliage next to the path. She kept her movements small and precise so as not to draw attention. She moved her bow down from her back and made sure the load was secure. Her eyes never stopped scanning the forest. Looking for any sign of him.

It was a small bit of color; a blue scarf. She could see the end of it past some leaves. She watched it to make sure it was her target. Even with her attention drawn to the scarf it wasn’t her sole focus. She let her gaze move back and forth across the trees. She strained her hearing for the sounds of ambush.  The scarf could be a trap.

She caught a blur of movement off to one side. Not a trap. A diversion. She pivoted in place, raised her bow, and took aim at the retreating shape through the trees.

A cloud of ravens exploded from the underbrush; blocking her view.

“Stay your hand hunter!” the voice was hollow and echoed slightly in the night. A thick mist rolled in around her. It blocked her view in all directions. The cries of the crows made it impossible to hear the retreating footfalls of her prey.

She shifted her balance to the balls of her feet so she could move in any direction at a moment’s notice. The better to avoid an incoming attack from any direction.

The mist in front of her parted and a form poured from the dusky woods. He was tall and gaunt. He wore dark robes covered in black feathers. A dark fog flowed from beneath his robe clinging to the ground and making the terrain hard to discern.

“I have no desire to fight you, Deryn.” The shades voice was deep and booming; with the finality of tombstones.

“You stand between me and my quarry,” said Deryn. “If your words are true, you’ll move and let me pass.”

“Normally I would stop the preying of one person on a weaker target,” said the shade. He made no move to let her leave. “You’re reputation as a good and noble person has reached even my ears here in the deep woods. So tell me. Why do you hunt this man?”

“He’s a monster,” said Deryn. “He murdered a family. He killed them in cold blood. He fled into the night. And right now, you’re letting him escape justice.”

“He is in my woods,” said the shade. “Lost in my mist and fog. He’ll not wander far. But tell me, are you sure?” asked the shade. “I sense neither evil nor malice in his heart. Had he committed the acts as you say, it would have stained him in some way. I would know.”

“There were witness.”

“Still,” said the shade. “I sense no darkness in him.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

* * *

Androth stumbled over a tree root. He was moving in a straight line. He was certain of it. He was also certain he’d passed that same tree three times. He stopped and leaned against a tall oak. There must be a way out of this damned fog.

The mist parted and the shade, Nevamor, rose up before him. “Murderer!” shouted Nevamor, his voice booming through the trees.

“No,” cried Androth backing away from the shade. “I didn’t do it.”

“Lies.”

Androth turned and fled into the woods. Branches tearing at his clothes and hair.

The fog before him parted and Nevamor appeared in his path.

Androth screamed, turned, and ran at an angle to escape the shade. He tripped on a root. Slamming down on the ground he crawled. His fingers digging into the soft dirt as he tried to pull himself forward.

The mist parted again and Nevamor stood before him.

“Cease your flight and face justice.”

Deep tears welled in his eyes digging tracks through dirt caked to his face. “Why is this happening to me?”

“The family,” said Nevamore. “The lives you took. Repent now and perhaps I shall find mercy.”

“I didn’t do anything,” said Androth. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Do not lie to me.” Nevamor rose higher in the air looming over the broken man before him. “Confess your crime. Tell me of the family.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Androth. “I saw it though. Four men. Large men. Dressed in fancy clothes. They stood over those people with bloody weapons and bottles of wine. I ran. I shouldn’t of run. I should have found the magistrate. But I’m a coward. I just left. I was afraid of what they would do to me. Then that woman came for me in the night. She’s out there now.” Androth’s words fell away replaced by deep sobs. “I suppose I am guilty. I guess I do deserve her justice. I should have tried to help.”

The mist parted revealing Deryn standing a few meters from Androth.

“Are you satisfied?” asked Nevamor.

“Yes.”

“Do you know the men he described?”

“They were the witnesses.” Deryn turned back the way she had come. It would be a couple days walk to get back to the village. It shouldn’t be too hard to find those men. She turned and took a step towards her new goal. She stopped. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve this.” Then she stepped into the deep woods and was gone.

It took several minutes but Nevamor waited for Androth to compose himself. He kept looking in the direction that Deryn had walked as if expecting her to change her mind and return.

“What do I do now?”

“There’s a druid enclave to the west of here,” said Nevamor. “I shall guide you to them. They will care for you until you’re able to do so yourself.”

Nevamor reached out a hand and helped Androth to his feet. He turned and began floating into the woods. Androth followed a few feet behind. After a couple of minutes a skeletal crow dropped a blue scarf on Androth’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

If you're interested in the games lore and characters check out the Super Fantasy Brawl Facebook page.

A Clever Girl

Listening to the lore discussions this week on YouTube I was inspired to write another story. I wanted to focus on one of the other characters I really like, Ko'lel. I'm loving the lore that keeps coming out about the game and can't wait to see all they have planned.

Image from Super Fantasy Brawl by Mythic Games. 

To’paque raised his head and growled. Ko’lel paused and began gathering her weapons. She knew not to doubt To’paque’s senses. Even if she hadn’t detected anything the raptor’s senses were much more finely honed than her own.

She slid the saddle on To’paque’s back making sure to tighten the straps just enough. She grabbed her blowgun and slid it into the holster across her back; giving it a slight tug to make sure it would come free when needed. She tied the quiver of poison needles to her belt within easy reach of a quick grab and load.

 There was a noise from somewhere else in the ruins. She paused and listened to try and detect which side of the old temple her quarry was now. It took a long moment by she heard another noise. Someone had stepped on one of the piles of dried leaves she’d left scattered about the area. It sounded like they were in the western part of the temple.

Ko’lel scratched To’paque’s chin as she moved to climb on his back. “How many do you think there are old friend?” Firmly mounted in saddle she clicked her tongue. To’paque shifted his stance becoming more aggressive. After a half a breath he lunged forward, jumped up onto some vines, hopped past a patch of large jungle blooms, and vanished through a hole in the ceiling.

To’paque moved across the ruins using crumbling walls and branches to follow a nearly impossible route. The few times they were forced to the ground to move from one area to another would only leave tracks the invaders could hardly follow. It didn’t take long before the pair had found their quarry.

A group of Moontouched had entered the ruins. The group was large, thirty warriors. They had fanned out into one of the larger rooms; an old prayer center.

To’paque and Ko’lel dropped gently on top of an old statue that had once stood thirty feet high with outstretched arms that reached across the room. Now it was a crumbling reminder of a better time. The pair hunched down and used the statues head to hide their presence. Ko’lel wanted to learn who she was up against.

The Moontouched moved with precision and purpose. These weren’t ordinary soldiers; this group was highly trained and required few instructions. They had worked together for a long time and knew their jobs well.

Sentries covered the doors in groups of three. A few were scanning the upper walls of the room looking for entry points. Another group watched the canopy of trees that had replaced the toppled ceiling. A few moved to the center of the room and set out maps and journals. It was hard to tell but Ko’lel thought some of them might be maps of the area.

One of the Moontouched walked the room making quiet comments to different groups. A word here, a gesture there. Anywhere he pointed someone quickly went and made a change or rechecked a location. Ko’lel smiled, she had found their commander.

He was tall and proud with broad shoulder. A long red cloak hung from his back. His armor was dark with bone ornamentation. A heavy blade hung at his side.

She would have to keep track of him. If she could remove this one from the fight it would demoralize the others. If she timed it right they might route. With a group like this, trained experienced fighters, you never removed the commander first. His second would just step in to fill the role. If you brought them down in the heat of battle it could sow confusion while the rest figured out what had happened.

She watched the group looking for more targets. Over time she picked out a few more likely subjects. Another warrior in red that the commander paid deference too. Possibly a favored officer of family member. A few other officers or squad leaders; the ones who took command of individual groups when the commander wasn’t close enough to give orders. A few older veterans who seemed to have been there a while and might be easy to remove. Finally a young recruit who hadn’t yet found his place as he was constantly being sent from one group to another; he might be easy to pick off while moving alone through the ruins.

Ko’lel decided to try something. She waited until the young recruit was moving between groups and fired a small stone from her blowgun at him. The pebble bounced off his armor with no effect other than to get his attention. When he glanced up she took that moment to have To’paque bound up into the canopy of leaves and branches; exiting the room.

She heard the recruit raise the alarm behind her. There was commotion and excitement for a few moments as she moved To’paque to the cover of the tall flowering branches of a nearby tree. They nestled into a nook in the tree and waited to hear what came next.

The Moontouched leapt into action. She recognized quick tactical movements from the men below as they quickly executed prepared actions. Small squads fanned out and covered different areas. Soldiers drew battle lines and started scanning the tree line looking for her. But they were looking too far away. They quickly passed her hiding spot and tried to find signs of her from deeper in the ruins and forest. After several minutes they slowly moved back to the main area.

Then she heard the commander yelling. The young recruit was being dressed down for raising a false alarm. The other soldiers laughed and the young man was sent away. Ko’lel considered picking him off but he was sent in the wrong direction for her to reach him quickly without giving away her presence.

With the recruit banished to the jungle the rest of the Moontouched returned to their duties. However, now the tension had been broken. Where they had worked in silence before small talk and laughter were heard through the camp.

Ko’lel smiled. Now that they were distracted she moved to signal reinforcements. She signaled To’paque to stay in place and climbed to the highest branches of the tree. She removed colored fronds from her pack and formed them into a bundle; three red and a violet. The reds indicated ten soldiers each and the violet marked a commander.

It was a good method of communication. The fronds were bright and easily seen from a distance. Finding them in a tree would only stand out to someone familiar with the jungle. These fronds grew in the ground around the base of trees. The rest of her people would easily be able to spot the fronds and know their significance. Outsiders were unlikely to follow the same thoughts.

Ko’lel crept back to To’paque and waited. It didn’t take long before a shrill whistle cut through the air. It passed for a bird screech, but the type it mimicked nested much farther north this time of year. She scanned the tree line looking for a sign of where her people might be. She spotted two yellow fronds hanging from the canopy of trees. Twenty gnomes. They’d be outnumbered but they had the element of surprise. It would have to do.

She climbed onto To’paques back and brushed his neck, as much a way to prepare him for what was to come as a sign of affection. She slid her blowgun from its holster and prepared her attack. The gnomes would wait for her signal. They knew she was here and would expect her to lead the charge. She looked for the commander trying to keep stock of where he was in the mass below. He’d moved out of view and she couldn’t see him anymore.

Oh well. He’d be along in a moment.

Ko’lel fired a dart from her blowgun at one of the soldiers she had marked as a squad leader. The dart struck him in the neck. It was a moment before the poison took hold. Another moment after that and he was gone. As Moontouched moved to see what was wrong she let out a battle cry and urged To’paque out of their hiding spot.

He leapt from the trees into the mass of troops. The pair landed in the middle of the group of Moontouched forcing them back in a burst of fangs and claws. Before the enemy could respond To’paque had flexed his legs and they were gone. Leaping effortlessly into the trees once more.

Gnomes dropped from the canopy of trees over the Moontouched and the battel was on in earnest. The initial assault went to her people, felling a few of the Moontouched. The enemy recovered quickly and many of them joined the battle shifting into their bestial wolf form. Ko’lel’s people used their quick movements and small size to get out from under the thrust of the Moontouched counter attack. Some gnomes still fell under the fury of the assault.

Ko’lel and To’paque bound into and out of the combat. Poison darts and claws cutting into the enemy. Ko’lel spotted the enemy commander. He stood on the outskirts of the battle.  The commander’s sword was raised above his head, its blade glowing with a destructive red light. He was about to strike down on an injured gnome.

Ko’lel whistled a command to To’paque and the pair leapt in the direction of the commander. They hurtled over the intervening forces and landed behind the commander. To’paque’s tongue shot out and wrapped around the commanders neck. With a vicious tug the commander was pulled backwards.

The commander swung his sword wildly trying to slash at To’paque. Ko’lel moved in the way. She used her blowgun to block the attack. The glowing red blade dug deep into the reed blowgun ripping a chunk from it. It would be useless now but it didn’t matter. Ko’lel had to protect her friend.

The commander dropped to one knee. His swings coming slower and with less force behind them. He tried to move forward. Force his way free.

To’paque hunkered down and dug in his claws. He pulled back. Forcing the commander backwards off his feet. He drug the semi-conscious commander. Forcing the Moontouched to fight to get his footing. Fight for his breath.

Across the camp a scream of rage tore through the air. Ko’lel looked up to see the young recruit from earlier. Unlike the other moontouched he had not yet adopted his wolf form.

He began moving forward when he convulsed. Inches added to his height. His shoulder broadened. His armor strained, cracked, and tore. He dropped to all fours as the spasms subsided.

He stood. His body torn and cut from where his armor tore from him. With sword and claw he charged at Ko’lel across the clearing.

The commander still fought. Ko’lel didn’t want to leave him until the job was done. Until he was gone. She jumped onto the commanders back, pulled a dart from her pouch, and stabbed it into the commander’s neck.

The recruit reached a small skirmish. Three gnomes had engaged a Moontouched soldier. The recruit slashed into the gnomes. His long claws drew blood. A small body flew from the melee and landed in a crumpled heap. The Moontouched soldier reached for the recruit. The recruit tore into the soldier with his fangs.

The soldier fell to the earth.

Ko’lel began to feel a sense of panic. What was wrong with this recruit? She drew another dart and stabbed the commander. Then another. And Another.

The recruit reached another melee in the middle of the room. Three Moontouched were about to finish off a gnome. The recruit stabbed the gnome through his spine. Then with no recognition of friend or foe he slaughtered the Moontouched in his way as well.

The commander fell still. Finally succumbing to the assault of tongue and poison. To’paque released the body and Ko’lel mounted the lizard. She quickly signaled a retreat. The other gnomes broke for the forest. They took those they could reach with them.

Ko’lel urged To’paque and the pair launched into the trees. She hazarded a glance back to see if there was any pursuit. The Moontouched gathered around body of their commander. The young recruit having released his wolf form knelt next to the body. He cradled his commander’s head against his chest and screamed to the heavens.

If you're interested in the games lore and characters check out the Super Fantasy Brawl Facebook page.

A Talk of Glory

While I've not heard how the characters for Super Fantasy Brawl are recruited to the Arena I couldn't help wonder if it was a bit something like this.

Image from Super Fantasy Brawl by Mythic Games

The room was sparse but nice. The furniture was comfortable and hand-made. A table, some chairs, and a warm bed filled the space. At the foot of the bed was a dark chest, similar to the one he had placed at the end of his bunk in the barracks.

It reminded Dugrun of home. Except the walls. These weren’t like the keep in the Frostfel Mountains. The walls at home were smooth grey stone. These were a coarse tan sandstone. He ran his fingers across the surface of the nearest one. It was rough and weak. Though there were no tool marks which showed a level of care to them.

There was a sturdy door in one wall. Though, thick oak by the look of it. Iron braces held it together. It was undoubtedly locked. Dugrun would see to that in a moment. That and a way to defend himself, his hammer, shield, and war horn were absent.

He turned his attention to the last feature, a wide window was fixed in a far wall. A set of curtains similar to the ones his mum had were hung over them. One side was pulled open to reveal a bright sky with few clouds. A harsh sun shone down from above marking it close to midday.

He heard a cheer from outside the window. There was a crowd. From the sound, it was massive. Dugrun moved to see the view and perhaps get a better idea of what was going on, who had taken him, and maybe even how they had done it.

Far below a battle was being held in an arena. Five warriors clashed around three statues. No wait, it was six. One of them had been burrowing under the sand and burst out to attack a tigeran warrior. The crowd cheered as the gladiators blades clashed.

“There’s a bowl of stew on the table fer ye.”

Dugrun moved back from the window and grabbed one of the chairs. He held it in front of himself to ward off any blows from the person. A stout figure sat in the shadow of the closed curtain. Dugrun tried to make out some features of the shadowy form who watched the match below with a detached interest.

“Who are ye?” asked Dugrun.

“A friend.” The figure kept his eyes on the fight below.

Dugrun began to move towards the door behind him.

“Calm down,” said the figure. “If they’d wanted to hurt you they’d have done it. You’re safe.”

Dugrun paused and slowly set the chair down and sat angling himself to be able to see the door and the figure obscured in the window.

“Eat the stew before it gets cold. It’s yer favorite.”

“Not possible,” said Dugrun. “I only like me ma’s stew.”

“Try it then.”

Dugrun reached out a cautious hand and took the bowl. He sniffed the thick mixture of gravy, meat, and vegetables. It certainly smelled like his ma’s. He dipped a tentative finger in the liquid and tasted it. It was his ma’s.

“Told ye it was yer favorite,” said the shadow.

Dugrun ignored the two spoons in the middle of the table and took the half loaf of bread. He tore a chunk off and began scooping the stew up with the crusty ends as he had when he was a child.

“How do ye have me ma’s stew?” asked Dugrun. “She’s been gone for…”

“Some six years,” said the figure. “I know. It’s what they do here.”

“It’s not all they do here,” said Dugrun motioning towards the window.

“True.”

Outside there was a crack of thunder and the figure let out a bark of laughter as the crowd cheered.

“What happened?” asked Dugrun.

“Gwaien,” said the figure as if it had answered the question. “You’ll understand later.”

“Is that what they mean for us to do?” asked Dugrun. “Fight for the crowds?”

“Aye,” said the figure. “If ye wish to. I did.”

“What if I say no?” asked Dugrun. “Will they just let me out of the locked room to go home?”

“Ye can leave when ye want,” said the figure. “Doors not locked. Exit’s out and to the right. Third door down. It’ll take you home. Yer kit’s in the chest.”

Dugrun walked over and opened the chest. The figure was telling the truth, Dugrun’s hammer, shield, and war horn sat neatly placed in the chest. They had been cleaned and polished to a shine. He strapped everything in place and walked to the door.

“Thank ye fer the stew. It brought back good memories.”

“It always does,” said the figure.

Dugrun opened the door and looked out of the room. He was in a large barracks. The outer edge of the room was ringed with doors; some open and some not. A large practice area was set in the middle of the room. Several training dummies were set around the room at regular intervals.

A large troll in heavy armor was eviscerating a trio of dummies with his claws. As soon as he was done he stepped back and yelled, “Again.” The dummies quickly stitched themselves back together. The troll took a deep breath and started again.

“Do ye want to know the prize fer fightin?” asked the figure.

Dugrun looked back at the figure in the room. “Is that yer job?” he asked. “To recruit me?”

“Not exactly,” said the figure. “I’m more here to get you ready to be recruited.”

 “What could they possibly offer me?”

“What do ye want?”

“Money, power, the usual,” said Dugrun.

“No,” said the figure. “I didn’t say ‘what do ye think they’re offering.’ I said ‘what do ye want?”

“They don’t have it,” said Dugrun.

“Try me.”

“Home. I want a home.”

“Just any old place,” said the figure. “Nice little picket fence and some roses? That’s what ye’d like?” The figure paused. “Tell me what you want. Deep down in the core of yer being. In yer soul.”

“Dundurin,” said Dugrun. “I want them to last. I want them to thrive. The mountains and my people who live there.”

“Done.”

“What,” asked Dugrun.

“Done,” said the figure. “If you win, they’ll live on for all time. Just as ye asked.”

Dugrun stopped. “How do they do that? How is it possible?”

“It is,” said the figure. “I’m not good at explaining it. They’ll have someone along who can do better than I.”

“What do I have to do?” asked Dugrun. “How many do I have to kill? How long must I play in their games? Is it till I die or become so broken I can’t go on?”

“Neither,” said the figure. “All of them. There’s a tournament going on below us right now. Each of the wizards involved have chosen a few heroes and villains from throughout - whenever and we face off to see who makes the best team. Be a part of the team that wins everything and ye’ll get yer wish.”

“How long does it take?” asked Dugrun.

“That is a hard question to answer,” said the figure. “The tournament is a few weeks but you’ll take part over most of yer life. Stepping in and out depending on where in the tournament the match is taking place.”

“How many fights have you had,” asked Durgun.

“I don’t believe I’m allowed to say. Don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“Is there ever an end to it?”

“Aye,” said the figure. “I just fought my last match a few hours ago. I’m spending time to watch an old friend face their final opponent. They let ye do that.”

“I’m meant to replace ye?”

The figure laughed.

Dugrun’s hand rested on the shaft of his hammer. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” said the figure. “It’s just that I remember asking that question and getting mad at the answer. It just struck me now. The things ye remember.”

“Any advice before ye leave?”

“Watch yer left,” said the figure. “Beware the skies, and try and remember to make new friends. Ye’ll be working with and against everyone here. Ye’ll not like them all but ye will love some. Some will be like brothers and sisters. One may be more. When ye remember to let them.”

Dugrun let go of the door handle. “Can they really do it? What you said?”

“Yes,” said the figure.

“Then I think I’ll stay.”

“I know.”

Dugrun looked at the figure through the curtain. “Have you recruited so many that you never fail?”

“Yer the first,” said the figure. “Ye’ll only ever take part in this little chat twice. Once from that end. Once from this un.”

“Thank ye,” said Dugrun. “What’s yer name old timer?”

“Not sure I’m allowed to say.”

“Then how will I speak of ye?” asked Dungrun. “I must call ye something when I speak of this?”

“If ye must call me something call me Warden.”

“Goodbye Warden,” said Dugrun as he exited the room.

“Good luck,” said the Warden smiling. “We’re gonna need it.”

end

If you're interested in the games lore and characters check out the Super Fantasy Brawl Facebook page.

A Classic Family Game

This past Saturday was Free Role-Play Game Day, or Free RPG Day. This is a fun little event that happens every year. A bunch of publishers chip in and build a box of sample modules and other bits to help promote the hobby. Stores all over get copies of the box and run events over the course of the day. People can show up and play in games, get free copies of some books, and spend the day talking to people about games.

I spent my Saturday at my local game store, Epic Loot in Centerville. Every year they put together a great experience where people can come and try new games, meet new people, and spend their time enjoying themselves. They set aside their large game room and reserve tables for this. I was going to run 3 games for them.

I got my adventures ahead of time and read through and prepared to play them on the day. I was excited to see that one of my games was the adventure from Goodman Games line of Dungeon Crawl Classics. It was a fun adventure that should take around two to three hours. And it was a character funnel.

If you don’t know, a character funnel is a very deadly dungeon where players get two or more randomly generated characters and go into an adventure where it is designed to kill them. The extra characters are so they can keep playing after death. I had a ton of fun reading this and was excited to see how the game would go.

When I arrived Saturday morning and went to my table I met my first group and was immediately nervous. My players were a family. A father and his two kids, a son and a daughter. In itself this was not a problem. My fear came from the ages. The children were roughly four and six. I was about to run a four and six year old through an adventure that was designed to be punishing, difficult, and to murder their characters. I wasn’t sure how well they’d take it.

We introduced ourselves and the dad told me that they had seen him playing with his group the night before and wanted to try a game. When he learned about Epic Loot’s Game Day he decided to come down and try out a game with the kids. Normally, an admirable goal and one I would have welcomed heartily.

I didn’t want to shoo them away and I didn’t want to tell them they couldn’t play. I decided to go with tact. I explained the system and the game to them. I told them what would be happening and how the game would work. I made sure to stress the lethal nature of the adventure.

The dad said they’d be okay and the kids were excited to play. With that covered we rolled up two characters for each of them. (Due to age, I’m not going to use their names or share any of my pictures from that sessions.)

DCC funnels are a fun experience. You get a level one character that is completely randomly rolled. This includes traditional things like the hero’s statistics and hit points, but also throws race and equipment into the hopper. Being level zero, they don’t even get adventuring classes. Which is why we had a party consisting of a gypsy, a farmer, a blacksmith, a glove maker, a baker, and seamstress. The racial makeup included a human, two halflings, and three dwarves.

The daughter had the strongest characters with the best stats and full hit points across the board. The son was the weakest with the lowest stats and two characters with a single hit point each. They entered the dungeon and everything went well for them until they got to the first trap.

We were all having fun and the daughter managed to have one of her characters set off the trap. She died instantly in a single dice roll. I held my breath. How would she react? We’re we finished playing now? Was this the end of our time together?

Now, I realize there was an easy fix for this. I could have not killed her character. I could have run the adventure on easy mode, let the characters live, and let the kids just win. I thought about it. I really did. Ultimately, the reason I didn’t go with it was that I had made a big deal about how hard the dungeon is, how hard the encounters are, and how deadly it is. I felt that if I’d gone through all of that and then let them all just win it would diminish the experience. A funnel is a specific kind of things and I wanted to give them that. Also, the next slot had a session of Dungeons and Doggos and I figured they could have the fun family friendly session there.

I made sure to highlight that they each got two heroes for when one of them died. I even pointed out how in a funnel when I was a player I lost all of my characters but someone who still had extras gave me one of theirs. I’d hoped that I had seeded enough of an upside that losing a character would be easy or at least, not hard. I really hoped that the dad would be the first to lose a character so the kids could laugh about it. Unfortunately, it was the daughter.

She laughed. She thought it was funny that she’d died. With that out of the way we moved on. Over the next two hours I killed five of the six characters. They were killed by traps and monsters. In the end the final room, the son had one of the best moments I’ve ever had playing an RPG. He saw an army of soldiers coming to destroy him and asked if he could run over them using their helmets as stepping stones. I let him roll for it. He failed. He managed to survive one more round because I made some remarkably bad rolls. Which I didn’t fudge. In the spirit of the funnel I rolled everything in the open. He managed to force his way through the army, the only one left, and face against the warlord. He raised his spear and hit. The warlord staggered. Swung back and missed. The son raised his spear, his family cheering him on, and struck the warlord in the chest killing him instantly.

He won.

He defeated the enemy and with the last line of story from the module asked if he could go on and face the next threat hinted at in the last line.

There’s a second adventure in the module. The dad took a copy and promised them they could play it at home with mom.

I was glad I was there for it. I’m glad I let myself run the adventure. I’m glad I didn’t let them win. I maybe let a couple of things go their way that might not have otherwise, but I didn’t let them win.  In the end we all had fun. The kids laughed for a few hours. Dad got to play games with his kids. I maybe helped get two new players into role-play games.

I always have fun on Free RPG Day. I have many stories from all the years I’ve taken part in this event. However, I think this will be one of the better memories for me. Because of who it was and how it went; how badly it could have gone.

To that family, if you’re out there, thanks for letting me play with you.

A Cursed Man

I’ve been walking through my old stories and D&D memories lately. In keeping with that I thought I’d post a story about an old friend’s character.

Jeff was part of the group I ran through the Pools of Radiance. It was notable as the first large scale story I had run. When rolling our characters we used a book full of random background charts that helped you give your characters a history. The charts gave you things like raised on a farm, at sea, or in a thieves den. You could learn about forgotten fortunes, lost magic, and overthrown kingdoms. In Jeff’s case his character was the son of Clangeddin Silverbeard, the dwarven god of war. As a result of this Paden Deckhandler had a strength of 20 in a system where 18(100) was the maximum a player character could have.

Paden carried a wrecking ball sized flail, wore heavy plate armor, and tended to carry the majority of the party’s treasure because we used the old encumbrance rules. They help clear the town of New Phlan. The town had once been a thriving metropolis and was now overrun by hordes of evil. The group was one of a band of mercenaries who answered the call to clear the old sections of the town in exchange for some amount of money and any treasure they found.

The players formed a party, entered the city, and started taking jobs to clear the area in and around New Phlan. This included a graveyard north of the city. A graveyard that housed an immense ziggurat. The party entered the undead filled area and battled their way to the top of the ziggurat, destroyed the necromancer in his throne room, and gathered his treasure. One of the many things they discovered was a magic ring.

Paden took the ring and after identifying it as a ring of strength he put it on. His strength jumped by four points to a massive, world shattering 24. He was now on par with giants, dragons, smaller titans, and lesser gods.  The group took their just rewards and headed through the graveyard and back to the city proper.

Unfortunately, there were two things the group had not accounted for. First, they had not cleared the graveyard and there were still a few pockets of undead roaming the area. The second, was that the ring was cursed. They discovered these two things in rapid succession.

A band of patrolling skeletons had attacked the group. The skeletons were a minor threat. The party had handled groups twice their size many times and felt that this would be no different. Paden, excited to try his new strength, prepared for battle. He drew his mace, told the rest of the group to stay back and let him handle it, swung the mace above his head to twirl it in a show of bravado, and fell over backwards. He was now pinned to the ground by his armor, weapons, and the half ton of treasure he carried in his backpack, several sacks, and a small chest strapped to the top.

The ring was one of weakness not strength. It worked like this. It boosted the wearer’s strength artificially while quietly sapping one point every thirty minutes until the wearer was reduced to a strength of 1. They had camped in the necromancer’s throne room to wait for healing and spells. Long enough for the full effect of the ring. However, in a move that was purely diabolical, the ring only reveals its true nature when the wearer is under duress. Like entering combat.

The group’s main form of damage and protection was now pinned to the ground. However, as I said, the skeletons weren’t much of a threat and the rest of the party was easily able to dispatch the beasts. Afterwards, they removed Paden from his armor and tried to figure out what had happened. It didn’t take long for the wizard in the group to determine that the ring was cursed. To remove it would require one of two possible methods. They would need to go back to New Phlan and have remove curse cast upon it. However, they’d have to leave behind most of their treasure since no one else could possibly carry it.

Then there was always the other way.

Paden burrowed a dagger from the king of thieves, (that background book had some intense swings), took a lit torch, and walked into the graveyard alone. He walked away from the path in a graveyard that was eternally shrouded with thick fog. A fog that blocked the light of his torch. He found a quiet area near a tomb. He looked for a grave marker that denoted a holy man. He took a moment to pray to his father. It was a simple thought, a quiet moment between father and son. There was no response save a warm breeze amidst a cold night. Paden then rested the hand with the ring on it atop the tombstone, used the dagger to remove his finger, and the torch to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding.

Then he was attacked by the patch of skeletons he’d walked into the middle of.

Because of the fog it took the group a couple of rounds to find him, despite his cries for help. It also attracted the last two groups of monsters in the graveyard, which included an undead Minotaur. Wearing no armor, wielding nothing but a dagger, and reduced to a strength that included massive penalties to hit and damage, Paden held off death until the rest of the party arrived.

The other thing I remember about this night, the one thing not written in my notes, is how Jeff reacted to the events. He smiled. Jeff had been happy the entire time this happened. He was having fun.

I’ve played with a lot of people over the years. Through home groups, local clubs, and conventions. I’ve played with all manner of players. There are many who would not have taken the events of the evening as well as Jeff did.

I like playing with Jeff. It was always fun to sit at the table where Jeff played. He loved getting into character. From the solemn moment spent praying to his father to playing an actor pretending to be a paladin in cardboard armor at a convention where he stood on his chair and pantomimed trying to kill a fly with his rapier for a little girl’s frog. Jeff is always a trip.

I don’t expect everyone to play like Jeff did. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever played with anyone like Jeff. I’ve had role-players at my table, I’ve had roll-players at my table, but mostly I’ve had a happy medium. No one has ever played their character as hard as Jeff did.

I think it’s why I appreciate players who really try to play their character. It reminds me of the early days and the lunatic who fell over backward and got pinned to the ground in his own armor and was happy about it.

In recent times a conversation comes up from time to time about playing with the folks who stream games, usually Critical Role. I’ve never wanted to play with them. I know I can’t keep up with what they do. However, I’d love to watch Jeff take a crack at it. I think he’d hold his own in that group. It’s probably why I enjoy those shows so much.

What’s Old is New

I watched the D&D Descent live stream that happened this weekend. While I have no doubt I’ll talk about what I saw and what is coming at a later point. Right now I want to talk about how it got me thinking about what came before. I’ll explain in a bit, but first I want to give a little context.

Let me tell you about Thayrel. He is an angel. Once a mighty warrior. He led armies against the forces of evil and chaos. He battled demon armies and dark gods. In one particular battle, fought on the edge of creation, he sacrificed everything to save us all. In one move, he lost his wings, his leg, and his eyes.

Before the war, he had been an artist. He painted sunsets for mortals to see. He chose vibrant colors and washed them across the skies. He gave that up to a sword stroke from a long dead deity that no one remembers anymore. With his eyes gone he’d lost his first love, color.

He was retired. Given his reward of choice. He asked for a little place to call his own. A small shop where he might find people to feed, strangers to make friends, and a world he might bring a small amount of joy to. He was given a shop in Sigil, the city of doors. He sold coffee and baked goods. He smiled at every customer and welcomed them in to his space. He was loved.

And until recently, I had completely forgotten he existed.

Recently, I talked about an old villain I created a long time ago for Planescape. In that piece I talked about how I found a treasure trove of old notes and ideas. It got me looking over older characters that I used as merchants, enemies, quest givers, victims, folks in need of rescue, and just people they came across on a daily basis.

All of these notes were in an old box of D&D things that I packed away when I moved two or three times ago. They never got unpacked for some reason. Probably shelf space and laziness.

Planescape existed in this place between realms where anything and everywhere were connected by portals and gates. This allowed me to use creatures I’ve never used before. Not just as monsters but also just people they knew. One of my players had a landlord from one of the lower planes. This was a unique world to exist and play in. It let us do so many new things.

I’ve often wanted to go back to Planescape to revisit those characters and ideas but there was never a time for it. I never had a setting that felt appropriate.

Now, Avernus is coming to us. We’re going to see one of the Hells. A place of war, chaos, and grim deals. A place filled with Devils, demons, and warlords.

I can bring back Grishnak the Unkillable, Destroyer of Worlds, a Kobold Barbarian with a quest for a warband. I can give him a crew of lunatics and some war machines. Let them run across the planes of Avernus in search of soul coins and power. I can dredge up Thayral. There’s a caravan that travels around Avernus that offers safeish harbor. I feel an Angelic baker might fit in there.

These wonderful friends I haven’t seen in so long can come back now. Every merchant, villain, quest giver, magic item, organization, and hapless side character can come back. Even the ones I had forgotten.

The long point of this story is this. If you’re a new DM and are building worlds and characters; moving them to and fro. If you’ve created a setting, campaign, or just a one shot adventure. Try and save your notes. I never expected Grishnak to become a thing, and yet he is fun to play. Thayral started as a faceless coffee shop owner and baker before I added the rest of the story when the players decided they liked the bakery and asked questions of the smiling blind man behind the counter. You never know who will be a grand thing. Who you will need years later.

When we stopped playing in Planescape I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to go back. I still may never get that chance. However, because I kept those notes. Because I got so lucky and found them at just the right time. I may get to use them again.

Keep your notes. Hoard them like a dragon’s treasure. Because you never know when the dwarves will open the gates and let you fly again.