The Demeter nears England, but so few crew remain.
30 July.—Last night. Rejoiced we are nearing England. Weather fine, all sails set. Retired worn out; slept soundly; awaked by mate telling me that both man of watch and steersman missing. Only self and mate and two hands left to work ship.
Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent
Dracula must be absolutely gorged at this point.
With some projects done, and others on hold (Basic Bestiary. Waiting for more art), I started a new project over my extended weekend.
The High Witchcraft Tradition
Well..."new" might be the wrong word.
I have a lot of notes from other projects that didn't quite fit or didn't get developed enough to get added. Plus this is a book I have been picking at for a while and have been calling my "Last Witch Book." If it is that remains to be seen, but I do have some great ideas.
Here is the shape of the book so far.
High Magic
It will include the use of High Magic, so magic that invokes spirits, demons, angels and the like. I would also like to include High Magic options for Magic-users. A bit like my Hermetic Mage Prestige class I did for 3.x.
Advanced
This book will be my first "true" book for the Advanced era. So compatibility with OSRIC, Advanced Labyrinth Lord, and Old-School Essentials Advanced is implied. Originally this book was going to be part of my "Basic Witch" series and focus on how I mixed AD&D 1st ed with the Expert set back in the day. I still might do that. I have a lot of ideas for that sort of play, but this is not the book for that.
Plus I will freely admit I am not as enthusiastic for D&D's future as I once was. I will buy D&D 5R, I will even likely play it a few times. But as much as I love digital and online games, that is not my preferred mode.
So instead of endlessly complaining about it, I am just going to focus my efforts into the types of games I DO enjoy playing. If you are looking for ragey click-bait, you won't find it here.
Best of the Old, Best of the New (Maybe)
I love my old-school games. I also am rather fond of new-school games as well. For me it has always been about maximum fun. So I would love to go back over some of the newer developments in games and see what can be ported back over. This one is not a guarantee. My focus first and foremost is a witch book from circa 1986.
Cover Art
For this book I am going to commission some original cover art. I have already been sending out emails to artists I want to work with and ones I have worked with in the past for this. And as much as I love the Pre-Raphaelite covers I have used in the past, I have something specific in mind for this one.
Waterhouse's "The Magic Circle" above was one of the ideas I originally had. I am, of course, sad not to use it for this book, but I also want something new.
I want this book to be really good. I want it to challenge my writing ability and game design ability. Plus I also want it to be able to cover any "so-called" witch written about in the "Advanced-era." If someone else's book/game/adventure set in the same era with the same or similar rule system and they have a witch character, I want my rules to be flexible enough and comprehensive enough that you could play that character using my rules. Lofty? Maybe. Do able? Certainly.
Potential High Witches
I have been tossing this idea around for a few years now. I finally hit a critical mass of notes to make it a real book. For me as much as for you, here are my posts about it.
Links to relevant posts
The Demeter suffers more deaths.
29 July.—Another tragedy. Had single watch to-night, as crew too tired to double. When morning watch came on deck could find no one except steersman. Raised outcry, and all came on deck. Thorough search, but no one found. Are now without second mate, and crew in a panic. Mate and I agreed to go armed henceforth and wait for any sign of cause.
Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent
Dracula is hungry, and he will make himself appear younger by using the blood and life of this crew.
The Demeter travels through storms.
28 July.—Four days in hell, knocking about in a sort of maelstrom, and the wind a tempest. No sleep for any one. Men all worn out. Hardly know how to set a watch, since no one fit to go on. Second mate volunteered to steer and watch, and let men snatch a few hours’ sleep. Wind abating; seas still terrific, but feel them less, as ship is steadier.
NotesMoon Phase: Waxing Crescent
These storms are caused by Dracula. Both to weaken the crew and speed his journey to England.
Still no news from Harker.
27 July.—No news from Jonathan. I am getting quite uneasy about him, though why I should I do not know; but I do wish that he would write, if it were only a single line. Lucy walks more than ever, and each night I am awakened by her moving about the room. Fortunately, the weather is so hot that she cannot get cold; but still the anxiety and the perpetually being wakened is beginning to tell on me, and I am getting nervous and wakeful myself. Thank God, Lucy’s health keeps up. Mr. Holmwood has been suddenly called to Ring to see his father, who has been taken seriously ill. Lucy frets at the postponement of seeing him, but it does not touch her looks; she is a trifle stouter, and her cheeks are a lovely rose-pink. She has lost that anæmic look which she had. I pray it will all last.
Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent
The plot, unbeknownst to our heroes is moving forward.
The Ring is the Holmwood Family estate.
Mina is getting increasingly worried about Jonathan.
26 July.—I am anxious, and it soothes me to express myself here; it is like whispering to one’s self and listening at the same time. And there is also something about the shorthand symbols that makes it different from writing. I am unhappy about Lucy and about Jonathan. I had not heard from Jonathan for some time, and was very concerned; but yesterday dear Mr. Hawkins, who is always so kind, sent me a letter from him. I had written asking him if he had heard, and he said the enclosed had just been received. It is only a line dated from Castle Dracula, and says that he is just starting for home. That is not like Jonathan; I do not understand it, and it makes me uneasy. Then, too, Lucy, although she is so well, has lately taken to her old habit of walking in her sleep. Her mother has spoken to me about it, and we have decided that I am to lock the door of our room every night. Mrs. Westenra has got an idea that sleep-walkers always go out on roofs of houses and along the edges of cliffs and then get suddenly wakened and fall over with a despairing cry that echoes all over the place. Poor dear, she is naturally anxious about Lucy, and she tells me that her husband, Lucy’s father, had the same habit; that he would get up in the night and dress himself and go out, if he were not stopped. Lucy is to be married in the autumn, and she is already planning out her dresses and how her house is to be arranged. I sympathise with her, for I do the same, only Jonathan and I will start in life in a very simple way, and shall have to try to make both ends meet. Mr. Holmwood—he is the Hon. Arthur Holmwood, only son of Lord Godalming—is coming up here very shortly—as soon as he can leave town, for his father is not very well, and I think dear Lucy is counting the moments till he comes. She wants to take him up to the seat on the churchyard cliff and show him the beauty of Whitby. I daresay it is the waiting which disturbs her; she will be all right when he arrives.
Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent
So Lucy is walking in her sleep. Sleepwalking was of great interest to the Victorians both from the Spiritual and Scientific frames of mind. It was believed that the sleep walker was "between worlds" and had access to knowledge or wisdom.
Debate goes on. Was Lucy sleepwalking because she was under Dracula's thrall already, OR was she more susceptible of Dracula because of her history of sleepwalking? I believe it was the latter. Her father had it and Lucy represents the "Old World" of England vs. Mina's New World of England. So Lucy still has a foot in that other, older, and more spiritual world.
This also hints at the duality of Lucy. The innocent bride to be now and later the horrifying "Bloofer Lady" to come. This too was part of Victorian pop-psychology of the time. See the "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" for a more developed example of this.
There is a solid implication here. Lucy, in her innocence, makes her a "tasty" target for Dracula. We have seen in many movies that while Lucy is Dracula's appetizer, Mina is the meal. She is described by Van Helsing as being "remarkable" and having a "man like mind." All Victorian for Mina is smart and shrewd. So. What sort of Vampire would Mina have been? Terrifying to be sure. I think this is a bit that Alan Moore grabbed onto in "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."
We are really just getting introduced to Mina still. But she is, as I'll show, the real star and the real hero of this tale.
Mina has another encounter with the old fisherman and his friends.
25 July Whitby*—I came up here an hour ago with Lucy, and we had a most interesting talk with my old friend and the two others who always come and join him. He is evidently the Sir Oracle of them, and I should think must have been in his time a most dictatorial person. He will not admit anything, and downfaces everybody. If he can’t out-argue them he bullies them, and then takes their silence for agreement with his views. Lucy was looking sweetly pretty in her white lawn frock; she has got a beautiful colour since she has been here. I noticed that the old men did not lose any time in coming up and sitting near her when we sat down. She is so sweet with old people; I think they all fell in love with her on the spot. Even my old man succumbed and did not contradict her, but gave me double share instead. I got him on the subject of the legends, and he went off at once into a sort of sermon. I must try to remember it and put it down:—
“It be all fool-talk, lock, stock, and barrel; that’s what it be, an’ nowt else. These bans an’ wafts an’ boh-ghosts an’ barguests an’ bogles an’ all anent them is only fit to set bairns an’ dizzy women a-belderin’. They be nowt but air-blebs. They, an’ all grims an’ signs an’ warnin’s, be all invented by parsons an’ illsome beuk-bodies an’ railway touters to skeer an’ scunner hafflin’s, an’ to get folks to do somethin’ that they don’t other incline to. It makes me ireful to think o’ them. Why, it’s them that, not content with printin’ lies on paper an’ preachin’ them out of pulpits, does want to be cuttin’ them on the tombstones. Look here all around you in what airt ye will; all them steans, holdin’ up their heads as well as they can out of their pride, is acant—simply tumblin’ down with the weight o’ the lies wrote on them, ‘Here lies the body’ or ‘Sacred to the memory’ wrote on all of them, an’ yet in nigh half of them there bean’t no bodies at all; an’ the memories of them bean’t cared a pinch of snuff about, much less sacred. Lies all of them, nothin’ but lies of one kind or another! My gog, but it’ll be a quare scowderment at the Day of Judgment when they come tumblin’ up in their death-sarks, all jouped together an’ tryin’ to drag their tombsteans with them to prove how good they was; some of them trimmlin’ and ditherin’, with their hands that dozzened an’ slippy from lyin’ in the sea that they can’t even keep their grup o’ them.”
I could see from the old fellow’s self-satisfied air and the way in which he looked round for the approval of his cronies that he was “showing off,” so I put in a word to keep him going:—
“Oh, Mr. Swales, you can’t be serious. Surely these tombstones are not all wrong?”
“Yabblins! There may be a poorish few not wrong, savin’ where they make out the people too good; for there be folk that do think a balm-bowl be like the sea, if only it be their own. The whole thing be only lies. Now look you here; you come here a stranger, an’ you see this kirk-garth.” I nodded, for I thought it better to assent, though I did not quite understand his dialect. I knew it had something to do with the church. He went on: “And you consate that all these steans be aboon folk that be happed here, snod an’ snog?” I assented again. “Then that be just where the lie comes in. Why, there be scores of these lay-beds that be toom as old Dun’s ’bacca-box on Friday night.” He nudged one of his companions, and they all laughed. “And my gog! how could they be otherwise? Look at that one, the aftest abaft the bier-bank: read it!” I went over and read:—
“Edward Spencelagh, master mariner, murdered by pirates off the coast of Andres, April, 1854, æt. 30.” When I came back Mr. Swales went on:—
“Who brought him home, I wonder, to hap him here? Murdered off the coast of Andres! an’ you consated his body lay under! Why, I could name ye a dozen whose bones lie in the Greenland seas above”—he pointed northwards—“or where the currents may have drifted them. There be the steans around ye. Ye can, with your young eyes, read the small-print of the lies from here. This Braithwaite Lowrey—I knew his father, lost in the Lively off Greenland in ’20; or Andrew Woodhouse, drowned in the same seas in 1777**; or John Paxton, drowned off Cape Farewell a year later; or old John Rawlings, whose grandfather sailed with me, drowned in the Gulf of Finland in ’50. Do ye think that all these men will have to make a rush to Whitby when the trumpet sounds? I have me antherums aboot it! I tell ye that when they got here they’d be jommlin’ an’ jostlin’ one another that way that it ’ud be like a fight up on the ice in the old days, when we’d be at one another from daylight to dark, an’ tryin’ to tie up our cuts by the light of the aurora borealis.” This was evidently local pleasantry, for the old man cackled over it, and his cronies joined in with gusto.
“But,” I said, “surely you are not quite correct, for you start on the assumption that all the poor people, or their spirits, will have to take their tombstones with them on the Day of Judgment. Do you think that will be really necessary?”
“Well, what else be they tombstones for? Answer me that, miss!”
“To please their relatives, I suppose.”
“To please their relatives, you suppose!” This he said with intense scorn. “How will it pleasure their relatives to know that lies is wrote over them, and that everybody in the place knows that they be lies?” He pointed to a stone at our feet which had been laid down as a slab, on which the seat was rested, close to the edge of the cliff. “Read the lies on that thruff-stean,” he said. The letters were upside down to me from where I sat, but Lucy was more opposite to them, so she leant over and read:—
“Sacred to the memory of George Canon, who died, in the hope of a glorious resurrection, on July, 29, 1873, falling from the rocks at Kettleness. This tomb was erected by his sorrowing mother to her dearly beloved son. ‘He was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.’ Really, Mr. Swales, I don’t see anything very funny in that!” She spoke her comment very gravely and somewhat severely.
“Ye don’t see aught funny! Ha! ha! But that’s because ye don’t gawm the sorrowin’ mother was a hell-cat that hated him because he was acrewk’d—a regular lamiter he was—an’ he hated her so that he committed suicide in order that she mightn’t get an insurance she put on his life. He blew nigh the top of his head off with an old musket that they had for scarin’ the crows with. ’Twarn’t for crows then, for it brought the clegs and the dowps to him. That’s the way he fell off the rocks. And, as to hopes of a glorious resurrection, I’ve often heard him say masel’ that he hoped he’d go to hell, for his mother was so pious that she’d be sure to go to heaven, an’ he didn’t want to addle where she was. Now isn’t that stean at any rate”—he hammered it with his stick as he spoke—“a pack of lies? and won’t it make Gabriel keckle when Geordie comes pantin’ up the grees with the tombstean balanced on his hump, and asks it to be took as evidence!”
I did not know what to say, but Lucy turned the conversation as she said, rising up:—
“Oh, why did you tell us of this? It is my favourite seat, and I cannot leave it; and now I find I must go on sitting over the grave of a suicide.”
“That won’t harm ye, my pretty; an’ it may make poor Geordie gladsome to have so trim a lass sittin’ on his lap. That won’t hurt ye. Why, I’ve sat here off an’ on for nigh twenty years past, an’ it hasn’t done me no harm. Don’t ye fash about them as lies under ye, or that doesn’ lie there either! It’ll be time for ye to be getting scart when ye see the tombsteans all run away with, and the place as bare as a stubble-field. There’s the clock, an’ I must gang. My service to ye, ladies!” And off he hobbled.
Lucy and I sat awhile, and it was all so beautiful before us that we took hands as we sat; and she told me all over again about Arthur and their coming marriage. That made me just a little heart-sick, for I haven’t heard from Jonathan for a whole month.
The same day. I came up here alone, for I am very sad. There was no letter for me. I hope there cannot be anything the matter with Jonathan. The clock has just struck nine. I see the lights scattered all over the town, sometimes in rows where the streets are, and sometimes singly; they run right up the Esk and die away in the curve of the valley. To my left the view is cut off by a black line of roof of the old house next the abbey. The sheep and lambs are bleating in the fields away behind me, and there is a clatter of a donkey’s hoofs up the paved road below. The band on the pier is playing a harsh waltz in good time, and further along the quay there is a Salvation Army meeting in a back street. Neither of the bands hears the other, but up here I hear and see them both. I wonder where Jonathan is and if he is thinking of me! I wish he were here.
Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent
*Note. The text of Dracula lists this day as August 1 and the next day as July 26. I have corrected it here.
**Another misprint. This should be 1877. I kept it here to make it clearer.
Swales argues that most of the graves here are empty since he knew some of the sailors they belonged too and he knows they are at the bottom of various seas.
Mina is getting worried about Harker. She was supposed to have heard from him by May 16 and it is now July 25.
Mina and Lucy have an odd encounter with an old fisherman. The Demeter continues on.
Mina Murray's Journal
24 July Whitby.—Lucy met me at the station, looking sweeter and lovelier than ever, and we drove up to the house at the Crescent in which they have rooms. This is a lovely place. The little river, the Esk, runs through a deep valley, which broadens out as it comes near the harbour. A great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through which the view seems somehow further away than it really is. The valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on the high land on either side you look right across it, unless you are near enough to see down. The houses of the old town—the side away from us—are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other anyhow, like the pictures we see of Nuremberg. Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of “Marmion,” where the girl was built up in the wall. It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there is a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows. Between it and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones. This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea. It descends so steeply over the harbour that part of the bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have been destroyed. In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over the sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside them, through the churchyard; and people go and sit there all day long looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze. I shall come and sit here very often myself and work. Indeed, I am writing now, with my book on my knee, and listening to the talk of three old men who are sitting beside me. They seem to do nothing all day but sit up here and talk.
The harbour lies below me, with, on the far side, one long granite wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards at the end of it, in the middle of which is a lighthouse. A heavy sea-wall runs along outside of it. On the near side, the sea-wall makes an elbow crooked inversely, and its end too has a lighthouse. Between the two piers there is a narrow opening into the harbour, which then suddenly widens.
It is nice at high water; but when the tide is out it shoals away to nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between banks of sand, with rocks here and there. Outside the harbour on this side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp edge of which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse. At the end of it is a buoy with a bell, which swings in bad weather, and sends in a mournful sound on the wind. They have a legend here that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea. I must ask the old man about this; he is coming this way....
He is a funny old man. He must be awfully old, for his face is all gnarled and twisted like the bark of a tree. He tells me that he is nearly a hundred, and that he was a sailor in the Greenland fishing fleet when Waterloo was fought. He is, I am afraid, a very sceptical person, for when I asked him about the bells at sea and the White Lady at the abbey he said very brusquely:—
“I wouldn’t fash masel’ about them, miss. Them things be all wore out. Mind, I don’t say that they never was, but I do say that they wasn’t in my time. They be all very well for comers and trippers, an’ the like, but not for a nice young lady like you. Them feet-folks from York and Leeds that be always eatin’ cured herrin’s an’ drinkin’ tea an’ lookin’ out to buy cheap jet would creed aught. I wonder masel’ who’d be bothered tellin’ lies to them—even the newspapers, which is full of fool-talk.” I thought he would be a good person to learn interesting things from, so I asked him if he would mind telling me something about the whale-fishing in the old days. He was just settling himself to begin when the clock struck six, whereupon he laboured to get up, and said:—
“I must gang ageeanwards home now, miss. My grand-daughter doesn’t like to be kept waitin’ when the tea is ready, for it takes me time to crammle aboon the grees, for there be a many of ’em; an’, miss, I lack belly-timber sairly by the clock.”
He hobbled away, and I could see him hurrying, as well as he could, down the steps. The steps are a great feature on the place. They lead from the town up to the church, there are hundreds of them—I do not know how many—and they wind up in a delicate curve; the slope is so gentle that a horse could easily walk up and down them. I think they must originally have had something to do with the abbey. I shall go home too. Lucy went out visiting with her mother, and as they were only duty calls, I did not go. They will be home by this.
Log of the Demeter
24 July.—There seems some doom over this ship. Already a hand short, and entering on the Bay of Biscay with wild weather ahead, and yet last night another man lost—disappeared. Like the first, he came off his watch and was not seen again. Men all in a panic of fear; sent a round robin, asking to have double watch, as they fear to be alone. Mate angry. Fear there will be some trouble, as either he or the men will do some violence.
NotesMoon Phase: Waning Crescent
We are treated to picturesque Whitby on the North Sea.
So who is this guy? We will learn later he is named "Swales." A version of this character appears in the 1979 John Badham "Dracula" played by the late Teddy Turner. He does make an appearance in the 1977 BBC mini-series closer to the character here.
He is nearly 100 years old by his tale, and claims to have been at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815. So if he was in his late teens or younger 20s then he would be close to 100 now in (my suggested) 1892.
His language, supposedly a Doric dialect, almost needs a translation guide.
"I wouldn’t fash masel’ about them, miss." = "I would not trouble myself about them, miss."
"Feet Folks" = "Tourists"
"I must gang ageeanwards home now." = "I must be getting home now."
"for it takes me time to crammle aboon the grees, for there be a many of ’em" = "it takes me time to hobble (move) about the graves because there are so many of them."
"I lack belly-timber sairly by the clock." = "I am very hungry according to the clock" = "It's dinner time."
For the steps? There are 200 of them, according to many Dracula scholars.
Meanwhile the Demeter makes it slow and inventible way to where Mina now sits.
by David Flor, 50 pages, color covers, black & white interior art. Art and maps from David Flor, Dean Spencer, and Dyson Logos.
So, there is a lot to love about this adventure. First, I LOVE that it is an update of something David wrote in 1983. I wish I had saved some of my adventures from then.
You don't need all three to run the adventures, but the original and the developer's cut are so much fun.
The adventure is a dungeon crawl, pure and simple. Don't go looking for deep plots or characters; that is a "feature" and not a "bug." There is a background here that is reminiscent of B1 In Search of the Unknown and T1 Villiage of Hommlet. An ancient temple, set up by some former adventurers, falls into ruins. A Macguffin hunt. Evil cults. There is nothing *new* here but that is fine, in fact that is great.
Like all good adventures of the 1980s, this one features new monsters, new magic, and plenty of interesting locales.
Monsters are given brief stats with notes to their page numbers in the Monster Manual. Not 100% sure that is fine with the OGL, but that is just me nickpicking. There are a LOT of monsters here too. This adventure will challenge the characters. It is listed for character levels 6 to 10, and I believe it.
Half the fun of this adventure is reading the original version and the developer notes.
The regular and developer editions are currently $5.99, and the Original 1983 edition is PWYW. So the price is quite good really.
How I Plan to Use This
Not quite sure just yet. It has a lot of potential but mostly it is just a fun adventure. No plot, no over arching narrative, just rolling dice like it is 1983. And honestly, what more do you need?
TQ1: The Temple of the Serpent Queen
This is their first adventure and you can get four different versions of it. I bought all four because I wanted to see the differences and how much work they put into making them different for the specific rules.
All four are largely the same and have only minor differences based on their OSR rules set of choice. All four are available as PDF and POD options.
It doesn't really matter which one you grab. Get the one for the rule system you are most comfortable with.
While this is a great way to give people what they want, it also splits their sales among four different titles, making it harder for them to get a "Best Seller" medal. However, it will tell them which ruleset sells better for them.
I am going to review all four as one.
This adventure centers around the reawakening of Khaliassa, the ancient Serpent Queen of lost Samarra. She is a compelling NPC/Foe so building the adventure around was a good start.
The adventure is 56 pages with maps (in proper Old-School blue), License declarations, and covers. The covers are full color, and the interior art is black & white. Designed for 4 to 6 characters of 5th to 7th level.
The adventure is divided into four chapters, roughly a chapter for each major location. There is some background, largely background on Khaliassa and her realm. Other than that, this adventure can be dropped into just about any campaign that has a rainforest-like environment.
This adventure also includes plenty of new monsters, new magic, some NPCs to add to the adventure, and pre-generated characters.
The adventure itself is a simple affair. Someone has awakened an angry demi-goddess, and now she wants to rise to power again. There is even a neat little mechanic for much more powerful she gets as time goes on.
This one hits all the nostalgia buttons.
The art is good, but the layout and presentation are excellent. The Danger Forge knows when to invoke nostalgia and when not to be a slave to it.
Khaliassa reminds me of Shahmaran from Turkish myth, and I think I see some subtle hints that this is what The Danger Forge was going for, albeit an evil version.
The adventure is fun and can be run in a couple of longer sessions, to be honest. If this is their first then The Danger Forge is off to a great start.
How I Plan to Use This
I have to admit when I first saw I thought I might be able to slot it in as a potential adventure for War of the Witch Queens, but the more I read it I had other ideas.
Deserts of Desolation & Death
My Deserts of Desolation & Death, the second act of the Second Campaign, is one I have been thinking about a lot lately. This would fit in perfectly between I1 Dwellers of the Forbidden City and I3 Pharaoh. Maybe as a companion adventure to I2 Tomb of the Lizard King. I can see the Lizard King and the Serpent Queen in a centuries long war.
Considering how I am converting my "Second Campaign" over to Castles & Crusades, this would fit in just fine.
Now. Do I print it out to put in my Second Campaign binder, or do I buy a POD?
More log of the ill-fated Demeter.
22 July.—Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with sails—no time to be frightened. Men seem to have forgotten their dread. Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms. Praised men for work in bad weather. Passed Gibralter and out through Straits. All well.
Notes
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent
Calm before the storm?
Quest of the Ancients: Faerie Tales
Today's adventure was a bit of a surprise. I have been playing around with Quest of the Ancients recently, I was talking with QotA creator Vince Garcia and I bought a new core rules book from him for my son to use. I also picked up one of the last pieces for my collection, the adventure anthology Faerie Tales.
I have to admit I had not had any plans for it until I began to read through it. Now I am really happy to have it.
The anthology consists of three small adventures and three longer ones.
Black Shuck (1st to 3rd level) is a "pocket" adventure featuring the black dog of English folklore and myth. It is a smaller adventure and one that can easily be dropped in anywhere. The PCs must get across a swamp (or a wet moor as I plan to use it) and avoid the demonic hound.
Dreamspinner's Art Gallery (Any level) introduces the party to one Islay's (the realm of QotA) powerful witches. She is a 15th level artistic witch and the adventure has a lot of flexibility to use as the starting point for plenty of other adventures.
Hot Sands (3rd to 5th level) is our last pocket adventure and takes place in a desert.
The Witch's Tower (1st to 4th level) deals with the return of witch that had been bound to her tower. The first of the three longer adventures.
The Star Splinter (4th to 5th level) is the second of the three longer adventures dealing with an ancient meteor.
Belshazzar's Music Show (Any level) deals with a travelling music show that is more than meets the eye.
Every adventure comes with detailed NPCs and new monsters. There is even a three-page writer's guideline in the back for people who want to write for QotA.
The adventures are not Earth-shaking, but they are fun and I am happy to have them. Converting them to say OSR-style D&D is such a non-issue that at one point, I forgot I was reading something designed for a different game. There are charts in back to help with this.
How I Plan to Use These
I have been thinking a lot about adventures lately. I have a few I want to get done for various projects/publishers, and a few I want to run.
War of the Witch Queens
A lot of these are perfect for my War of the Witch Queens. I feel like I need to include something from Vince in that campaign. I did a little with DL15 Mists of Krynn, but these are a better fit. In particualr I want to include Dreamspinner's Art Gallery and The Witch's Tower as a single adventure arc. Black Shuck could fit in there are well.
Deserts of Desolation & Death
My Deserts of Desolation & Death, the second act of the Second Campaign, is one I have been thinking about a lot lately. Hot Sands helps me fill in some gaps.
I am sure I can find homes for the other adventures as well.
Dr. Seward keeps us apprised of his patient. Has he made a new discovery?
20 July.—Visited Renfield very early, before the attendant went his rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He was spreading out his sugar, which he had saved, in the window, and was manifestly beginning his fly-catching again; and beginning it cheerfully and with a good grace. I looked around for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him where they were. He replied, without turning round, that they had all flown away. There were a few feathers about the room and on his pillow a drop of blood. I said nothing, but went and told the keeper to report to me if there were anything odd about him during the day.
11 a. m.—The attendant has just been to me to say that Renfield has been very sick and has disgorged a whole lot of feathers. “My belief is, doctor,” he said, “that he has eaten his birds, and that he just took and ate them raw!”
11 p. m.—I gave Renfield a strong opiate to-night, enough to make even him sleep, and took away his pocket-book to look at it. The thought that has been buzzing about my brain lately is complete, and the theory proved. My homicidal maniac is of a peculiar kind. I shall have to invent a new classification for him, and call him a zoöphagous (life-eating) maniac; what he desires is to absorb as many lives as he can, and he has laid himself out to achieve it in a cumulative way. He gave many flies to one spider and many spiders to one bird, and then wanted a cat to eat the many birds. What would have been his later steps? It would almost be worth while to complete the experiment. It might be done if there were only a sufficient cause. Men sneered at vivisection, and yet look at its results to-day! Why not advance science in its most difficult and vital aspect—the knowledge of the brain? Had I even the secret of one such mind—did I hold the key to the fancy of even one lunatic—I might advance my own branch of science to a pitch compared with which Burdon-Sanderson’s physiology or Ferrier’s brain-knowledge would be as nothing. If only there were a sufficient cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted; a good cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain, congenitally?
How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives?
To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on hopeless and work. Work! work!
If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there—a good, unselfish cause to make me work—that would be indeed happiness.
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent
Seward is getting a little ahead of himself here, but that is understandable. Every doctor, at one time or another, thinks they have a case that will blow apart our understanding of medical or brain science.
In the movies, Bram Stoker's Dracula in particular, this is also explained by the fact that Seward was also taking opiates. An almost unnecessary addition, really. You spend enough time working with, and around the mentally ill you begin to lose track of what is normal.
In any case, Renfield's own experiments seem to be at an impasse. He can eat flies and spiders, but birds make him sick. That means there is at least one Little Old Lady that is better at this than he is. Now, there is a chilling thought.
Dr. Seward keeps us apprised of his patient and things are getting more dangerous.
19 July.—We are progressing. My friend has now a whole colony of sparrows, and his flies and spiders are almost obliterated. When I came in he ran to me and said he wanted to ask me a great favour—a very, very great favour; and as he spoke he fawned on me like a dog. I asked him what it was, and he said, with a sort of rapture in his voice and bearing:—
“A kitten, a nice little, sleek playful kitten, that I can play with, and teach, and feed—and feed—and feed!” I was not unprepared for this request, for I had noticed how his pets went on increasing in size and vivacity, but I did not care that his pretty family of tame sparrows should be wiped out in the same manner as the flies and the spiders; so I said I would see about it, and asked him if he would not rather have a cat than a kitten. His eagerness betrayed him as he answered:—
“Oh, yes, I would like a cat! I only asked for a kitten lest you should refuse me a cat. No one would refuse me a kitten, would they?” I shook my head, and said that at present I feared it would not be possible, but that I would see about it. His face fell, and I could see a warning of danger in it, for there was a sudden fierce, sidelong look which meant killing. The man is an undeveloped homicidal maniac. I shall test him with his present craving and see how it will work out; then I shall know more.
10 p. m.—I have visited him again and found him sitting in a corner brooding. When I came in he threw himself on his knees before me and implored me to let him have a cat; that his salvation depended upon it. I was firm, however, and told him that he could not have it, whereupon he went without a word, and sat down, gnawing his fingers, in the corner where I had found him. I shall see him in the morning early.
Notes
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent
Renfield is progressing to larger and "higher" life-forms. Seward sees this as a progression towards homicidal mania, and he is not too far off, both in terms of the story and real-world psychology.
We know that many serial killers progress from harming animals to later humans. Not that all who harm animals will be serial killers, some are just assholes, but most serial killers start out this way.
I just turned in my last bit of content for Thirteen Parsecs and finished up two other projects, so I am back at it today. Almost. I wanted to get you some reviews up of some adventures I bought recently, but time ran out. I'll do them next week. Make a week of it I think!
One of the adventures I am going to review is David Flor's The Mosidian Temple. In the meantime, he is running a Kickstarter for the 5th Edition version of it and it is worth checking out.
The Mosidian Temple: D&D 5th Edition Conversion
Like many of us, David Flor wrote D&D adventures as a kid. He happened to save this one, and honestly, from what I have read of it so far, it is a lot of fun.
This is the 5e conversion, so perfect for when the new Player's Handbook drops in a bit.
It's fun. It's nostalgic, and you help out an independent publisher.
Log of the ill-fated Demeter.
18 July.—Varna to Whitby.
Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall keep accurate note henceforth till we land.
On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and boxes of earth. At noon set sail. East wind, fresh. Crew, five hands ... two mates, cook, and myself (captain).
On 11 July at dawn entered Bosphorus. Boarded by Turkish Customs officers. Backsheesh. All correct. Under way at 4 p. m.
On 12 July through Dardanelles. More Customs officers and flagboat of guarding squadron. Backsheesh again. Work of officers thorough, but quick. Want us off soon. At dark passed into Archipelago.
On 13 July passed Cape Matapan. Crew dissatisfied about something. Seemed scared, but would not speak out.
On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew. Men all steady fellows, who sailed with me before. Mate could not make out what was wrong; they only told him there was something, and crossed themselves. Mate lost temper with one of them that day and struck him. Expected fierce quarrel, but all was quiet.
On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of crew, Petrofsky, was missing. Could not account for it. Took larboard watch eight bells last night; was relieved by Abramoff, but did not go to bunk. Men more downcast than ever. All said they expected something of the kind, but would not say more than there was something aboard. Mate getting very impatient with them; feared some trouble ahead.
On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to my cabin, and in an awestruck way confided to me that he thought there was a strange man aboard the ship. He said that in his watch he had been sheltering behind the deck-house, as there was a rain-storm, when he saw a tall, thin man, who was not like any of the crew, come up the companion-way, and go along the deck forward, and disappear. He followed cautiously, but when he got to bows found no one, and the hatchways were all closed. He was in a panic of superstitious fear, and I am afraid the panic may spread. To allay it, I shall to-day search entire ship carefully from stem to stern.
Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told them, as they evidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would search from stem to stern. First mate angry; said it was folly, and to yield to such foolish ideas would demoralise the men; said he would engage to keep them out of trouble with a handspike. I let him take the helm, while the rest began thorough search, all keeping abreast, with lanterns: we left no corner unsearched. As there were only the big wooden boxes, there were no odd corners where a man could hide. Men much relieved when search over, and went back to work cheerfully. First mate scowled, but said nothing.
Notes
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent
Something is going on aboard the doomed ship Demeter. I have not watched "The Last Voyage of the Demeter" yet (I know, I am behind) so it will be interesting to see how it fits with the novel.
Still a crazy time here with the day job and trying to get Darker Stars done.
I have been getting a bunch of behind the scenes updates done here as well. Getting my #RPGaDay posts sorted. Getting my October posts figured out, not just for my horror movies, but also various reviews and posts for the RPG Blog Carnival.
When I have some free time (which is never) I am also poking around trying to update and modernize this old TRS-80 computer.
As you can see I have not gotten very far. But I think everything I need is there. It is an upgrade from 64k to 16g. That is an increase in memory of 250,000 times. Not too bad, really.
A few other projects I still have going.
My Forgotten Realms exploration continues. My oldest is currently running what we are calling "It's Always Sunny in Waterdeep." The PCs have gained the deed to a bar and are in the process of building it up and going on side quests to fund it. Of course, this isn't "Cheers," so the side quests usually involve something illegal.
I am helping update the classic "A Paladin in Hell" to be a sequel to "Baldur's Gate: Descent into Avernus" and calling it "A Barbarian in Hell." Everyone in his group has played Baldur's Gate 3, so they are all very eager to go to Hell and rescue Karlach.
Under 5e A Barbarian in Hell is a killer adventure. I am expecting more than one death here.
I'll have to let you know how it all goes.
More Maximum Mayhem adventures from Dark Wizard Games!
Fantastic Quest of Whimsical One & Lost Tomb of Mummy Lich
I mean by now you should know what these are all about.
The Fantastic Quest of Whimsical One features art from Erol Otus, so that is a nice added feature.
Both of these fit well with my idea of a long campaign for B/X or OSE. And they look like a lot of fun!
No 5e versions this time around though.
I picked up the new D&D 5 adventure omnibus, Stairway to HeavenQuests from the Infinite Staircase yesterday. It looks like it was well done.
The back cover has a "50" logo on the back which is nice, but damn, Wizards is really dropping the ball on this 50th Anniversary.
The adventures are some classics.
Of all of these , Beyond the Crystal Cave is the only one I have not run or played in. As you can see, my old copy is a bit worse for the wear.
I also picked up the Thirteenth Doctor sourcebook for the Doctor Who RPG. It also looks great.
The other night my oldest son Liam and I were going to continue our AD&D 2nd Ed game in the Forgotten Realms. I got to talking about about some of the NPCs of the Realms and mentioned the strangest one I knew was Raven of Raven's Bluff. Which got me on the topic of Quest of the Ancients in general and what a Fantasy Heartbreaker was. He asked if I had stated up Larina for it already, and too my utter shock I saw I had not.
Instead of playing some AD&D 2nd Ed, we rolled up characters for Quest of the Ancients. I built Larina and he did his human/demon-hybrid assassin Malcear.
I do want to extend my public thanks to Vince Garcia. I told my wife there was a game developer out there who was as obsessed with witches and Stevie Nicks as me, and she didn't believe it.
Armor rating: 0 / 0
Tactical move: 10'
Stamina points: 36
Body points: 10
Stats
St 9 (Dmg. +0, L/N/H/VH Load 18/45/63/90, Max lift 180)
Ag 12 (AR att +0)
Cn 12 (Rest 7, Stamina/Body recovery 1/1)
IQ 20 (memorization time 1)
Ch 19 (Reaction +15%)
Ap 18
Lk 7
Attack 1
Combat phase: 4
Dmg: 1D4+1 (dagger) or by spell
Ethics: I
Size: 5'4", 125#
Witch Abilities
A: Create Focus (wand)
B: Additional Combat Skill Slot (2 for 4 total)
C: Create Potions and Elixirs
D: Form Coven
Skills (200 pts)
Language: 50 (read/write 10)
Courtliness: 15%
Danger Sense: 4%
Herbalism: 60%
Music: 10%
Nature Lore: 10%
Spells
Rank 1: Beguile, Control Fire, Disenchantment, Evil Eye, Magic Dart, Read Magic Script, Skull of Flame, Slumber, Trick, Whisper, Witch Warrior
Rank 2: Cure Wounds, Enchant Bracers, Fire Darts, Jack-o-lantern, Moon Sigils, Witch Wand, Witch Wind
Rank 3: Babble, Charm, Charm, Electric Arc, Energy Blast, Hand of Glory, Sheet Lightning, Starburst, Witch Mark
Rank 4: Bat Swarm, Death's Eye, Hex, Shooting Stars, Time Vision, Witch's Eye
Rank 5: Candle Magic, Cauldron of Magic, Moon Web, Witchfire
Rank 6: Aura of Fear, Enflame, Pentagram of Protection, Starfire
Rank 7: Ethereal Whirlwind, Witch Ward
Armor rating: 1 / 1
Tactical move: 10'
Stamina points: 36
Body points: 10
Stats
St 17 (Dmg. +1, L/N/H/VH Load 34/85/119/170, Max lift 340)
Ag 20 (AR att -5)
Cn 15 (Rest 6, Stamina/Body recovery 1/1)
IQ 15
Ch 12 (Reaction +0%)
Ap 13
Lk 10
Attack 1
Combat phase: 1
Dmg: 1D6+1 x (short sword)
Ethics: I
Size: 5'8", 175#
Assassin Abilities
Disguise: 40%
Information Gathering: 37%
Stealth: 45%
Climb: 67%
Concealment: 40%
Detrap: 40%
Lock Pick: 40%
Skills (150 pts)
Blindsight: 30 pts
Danger Sense: 24%
--
Ok. Not bad. The system was not really enough to keep Liam's attention, so we did not try to play it. I am thinking I have extracted pretty much everything out of this game I can get. I think this one is moving to the lower shelves now.
Unlike some other games I have tried out over the last couple of years, I do not recommend this one as a D&D 5 replacement.
