söndag 13 september 2020

I Loot the Body, But Find No Coin

First attempt at cover for a possible d13 Tribes of Vacuum Nomads zine.


 I Loot the Body, But Find No Coin

Those who roam the Great Vacuum care little for conventional riches, but are by no means above the love of worldly possessions. Here's d13 things you might find on a fallen nomad:

  1. Gourd filled with (actual) moonshine
  2. Glass pearls in many different colours
  3. Chipped dagger carved out of solid amber
  4. Pet asp (Save or hp to zero and bed-ridden for 1d4 days)
  5. Jar of honey
  6. Illustrated bestiary of (mostly extinct) ocean fauna
  7. Three torches discreetly interspersed with incense
  8. Alligator boots, very well made.
  9. Deed to family crypt below the canal city of Adomdes
  10. Jade cup with motif of nursing tiger
  11. Hyena skin cloak and a Mehen board, doubling as shield
  12. Long-stemmed pipe and 7 doses of grinded bone. ­Imparts permanent appetite for Venusians as well as the one-time use of random lvl 1 spell (first and second smoke). After that, each use grants a lvl 2 spell but the smoker needs to save or suffer a debilitating stroke.
  13. Pouch of cinnamon and a jet black porcelain shell; If blown, sounds like the mating call of the cinomolgus. 25% chance of attracting that ferocious bird if in mountain areas.


Speaking of worldly possessions: Toad of Holding and Remnants of the Restless Republic as physical artefacts below.



tisdag 1 september 2020

Fail again. Fail better. On Anastasis and those who provide it.

A PC dies, a player is too attached to let go: Between the Twin Canals, there is one option readily available: The Fountain of Second Youth. Here, a fortune can buy you a second chance -- but only one. What used to be a privilege of the imperial family and the higher echelons of the Ouroborée sect, changing circumstances have made available to the very lucky and the very rich.

The Autumn Palace & The Ouroborites
The Fountain is located in the center of The Autumn Palace of the Ever-Younger Emperors. Once rivalling the splendor of Phobos, the palace and its surrounding city is now a wilderness of broken architecture. The ruins are filled with white haired pilgrims, and those who would prey on them: robbers, two-bit oracles, peddlers of tonics and petitions, tavern owners, jackals, ghouls. And above: clouds of vultures, sometimes blotting out the sun.

The millennia have not been kind to the Ouroborite faith. There was a time when the High Mehen’s words would traverse the Red Planet in mere weeks, and worshipers would flock to the favoured cult of the Ever-Younger Emperors. Today, the Ouroborites are just barely tolerated by public opinion, and the ever-younger are openly reviled, especially by their proper heirs. In more than one Canal state those who age backwards are denied their former possessions and the civic rights of proper burghers.

The Ouroborite's godhead, The Laughing Hyena, imploring you to do the most of your second chance at life.

The Lottery
Nonetheless, the stigma is braved by many who fear death. Every morning, throngs of the soon-to-be-departed flock around a peristyle in the centre of the palace, forming lines to present their sealed-envelope offerings to the dried up Fountain, still standing before the Toppled Throne. When evening comes, the offerings disappear, and someone is chosen (At random? According to some hidden logic? A never-ending argument among the hopeful supplicants) to undergo the Rite in the subterranean halls of the ouroborites. (For a generous donation (2000+ gp) and a vow of discretion, the wealthy can bypass the Fountain's holy lottery and undergo the Rite.)

The money collected fund the ouroborée orphanages and charities for the elderly, from whose lips acolyte-caretakers collect the infantile blabber and senile ruminations for their always expanding corpus of religious texts.

The Rite
What is known is this: The rejuvenation procedure is generally initiated on the still-living. It will work on those who have not been dead for longer than a fortnight. After the rejuvenation, the revived body will grow ever-younger, until it reaches Second Childhood and, beyond that, the death from which there is no return: Unparturition.
The cost is 2000 gp OR a 1% chance per 150 gp in a petition envelope.

Short-term consequences: 
  • After the Rite, the rejuveniled character requires a week-long period of convalescence.
Long-term consequences:
  • Ages backward from time of death.
  • -2 on reaction rolls if exposed as an ever-younger.
  • Save against death or suffer an alteration (1d8):
  1. Suffers from frequent deja vus.
  2. Always new, creepily small milk teeth.
  3. Irrevocably bald
  4. Nails grow at an alarming speed, turns into faux ivory claws (1d4) if not filed down every day.
  5. Minor oracle; can predict one mundane occurrence in exchange for debilitating migraine for the rest of the day
  6. Half of face wrinkled; half smooth as a newborn’s
  7. Re-roll HP every morning; keep if lower.
  8. Accelerated youthfulness. 1d12 years younger every lvl up until unborn. Choose +1 str or dex every lvl up.

The Limits of Anastasis & What Really Goes On
No one, not even the Ever-Younger Emperors, has been allowed to undergo the Rite more than once. The particulars of the Rite is a sought after secret, and worth a lot to the right buyer. It is guarded thus, by seasoned acolytes half-way to Second childhood. Below the Autumn Palace, in the ancient catacombs that were there before the palace was built and remained after it was sacked, one of the few remaining vats of the Rejuvenile Heresy whirrs, its secrets lost to time. The supplicant, if still alive, is drugged to death. Then, the body is bathed for a night in the vat, filled with a mixture of acrid smelling herbs and the collected spittle of Little Ancients.

The Dirty Horde
The reason why the sect forbids a second reversal is that a second resurrection inevitably spells disaster; a breaking down of patterns, the fraying of an already-frayed vitality. It spawns abominations -- bearded children of impossible age, senile milk toothed beings that not even Death will go near. This is not known: The ouroborites keep the little ones, the Dirty Horde, in the catacombs below. Tending to them is penance, the collecting of the Holy Water saliva a small encouragement for a never-ending work. And, incidentally, gives them the key ingredient for the Rite.


LITTLE ANCIENTS
No. Appearing: 14
HD: 1 AC: Unarmoured.
Attacks: Bite (1d4, raise the damage a die each round after the first as they grow more teeth)
Movement: Like a small child Saves: Not at all Morale: 12
Special: When HP reach zero they fall asleep for 1d12 rounds, then awake with replenished HP
Wants: Sweets, eternal rest, pulling living things apart.
Treasure: Drools holy water, 1 vial/turn.
Always followed: By the Keeper of the Dirty Hoard. At the moment, that would be Molter Benjin, a lvl 5 cleric armed with a stick, infinite patience and a sizable bag of sugar.