D&d Is For Nerds

"... Gaz, the vile deity of assassins and the hated, was only a normal halfling in those days. Many philosophers have debated why Gaz committed such an abomination to the fabric of reality: was it pride, desire for power, some other dark reason? Or perhaps as some have speculated a terrible contract given to a mortal being that was never intended on being fulfilled? Another question that has yet to be answered is how one can permanently end a god. The written and oral records are littered with deities being slain and forced to withdraw from the strands of fate for a time but never being severed in their entirety. None of these records ever mention the insanity that befell those with a divine connection to Gulliver known as Mind Sliver, the Great Fracture, or Gulliver's Madness in different contexts. We must assume that this event is somehow unique.My studies in this matter took me to Vorenguard: the continent home to the nations of Candor, Praellara, Goldcrest, Teaghlaigh, and Zemjata; and to the Kin

Spot Length: :60Talent: 9 Hells Toy Circle Co.Title: D'Grugrial RebrandStart With a Story (Required. Personalise so it sounds like you're telling a friend about the new D'Grugrial action figure)Your Story: First, talk about a moment you needed the new D'Grugrial action figure but didn't have the new D'Grugrial at hand. Then introduce the new D'Grugrial action figure as the fix.Example:Picture this, you standing next to a disgusting elf. They're happy, haven't been insulted, look like they're better than you in every possible way and probably took you job and/or wife. We know you want to say something but calling them an old slur is cringe and embarrassing. Thankfully 9 Hells Toy Circle Co.'s brand new and updated D'Grugrial Action Figure has you covered.Incorporate Brand Touchpoints (Choose 1 -2 additional points that support your endorsement) New slurs are come up with in minutes, not hours!Previous D'Grugrial models only had sixteen (16) slurs to choose from!Now comes with slurs for Owlbears,

Over a year ago, an argument outside the old bone grinder. Two voices. One coaxing the other. Soothing assurance that whatever they might find inside will be no match for the two of them. It’ll be fine Paul, it’s only hags. The other voice, less sure, less certain, providing a laundry list of reasons they should probably turn around. The first voice lower now, more gentle. Trust me, I’ve got you. The second voice acquiesces.Inside, the pungent odour of rot and the throaty chirruping of an enormous toad. A collection of rags and bones coalesces into the floating form of a wretched old woman. Her voice like shattered glass. You’re fucking dead you rat cunts! Fuck you! The sizzling sound of magical energy. Run! The first voice, panicked and self serving. It’s got me, I’m trapped. The second voice, fearful and strained. The first voice does not respond. Pip? The second voice pleads. Pip.But he is gone.If you supported the Jarren's Outpost Board Game, check your emails to manage your pledge manager! Of course you

There is no formal name given to worship of the One Above and the One Below. It is a strange religion and one not well known outside of the small pockets of the multiverse where people practise it. Those who believe see themselves as part of a grander cosmic food chain with the One Below being the source of their power. They feed on one One Below to power their minds and bodies and souls and spells. In this way the One Below is seen as a creator god, a fertility god, or a god of harvest depending on the context. The One Below is conceptualized as different entities depending on the context such as a worm, a deer, or a chicken. Adherents then see the One Above as feeding upon them when they die to fuel its own power; the One Above acting as a god of judgement, true death, or even renewal. While similarly to the One Below there is no definitive depiction of the One Above by far the most common form is a giant bird. This is observed through works made by the Grung people who are the most prevalent, but certainly

I had no ambition to be remembered. All I knew is that I wanted a desk eventually. Somewhere dry and quiet. A place where my boots didn't end the day caked in mud and dirt. I did not care for the frontline. I did not care for battle. I did not care that my wife always worried whenever I went on a campaign. I was not, and will never be, what you'd call a hero. Someone history bent around. That was for other people. To happen elsewhere, while I stayed comfortable at its edges. I was happy with that arraignment. He arrived unannounced, in the middle of the night, from somewhere I still don't fully understand. He was forthright with any questions I had. A deeply honest man. There were rumours about the man responsible for making all of what we do possible, the majority of which I didn't understand. What I did understand, however, was that the man across from me, looking at drilling contracts and charters of accounts didn't understand any of it. But unlike most men of consequence I've dealt with, he was hones

An army marches on its stomach. Please do not take this literally. As impressive as it may look, a thousand men flopping, rolling and laughing in the mud is neither intimidating or practical. What I am talking about is, very simply, food. Every quartermaster knows the phrase "send a druid before the cart and the army eats before it starts". Yet seldom do they know the second part of the phrase: "but slight her once, and mark it well, the forest keeps its own farewell". To put it bluntly, be nice to your druid and she'll be nice to you. This is harder than it sounds, as druids are, quite frankly, miserable countrymen. A druid does not march in formation, screams at most steel weaponry and will stop the whole host because a hedge "seemed unhappy about something." A druid will let a man go hungry on principle before she lets him shoot a doe that hasn't finished raising her fawns. She she will not apologise and she will remember exactly which soldier complained the loudest. Men who have survived three s

There's a saying in ol' North Warlocksburg: "Still water runs deep, and deep water runs wise, and wise water knows better than to answer questions it wasn't asked." Nobody can tell you what that means. Yet it gets recited at weddings, funerals, and most minor irrigation disputes. Usually with a solemn head nod for emphasis.It's also, if you ask around, the reason our little town turns out so many wizards. Why a farmer's boy from North Warlocksburg is more likely to end up hurling fireballs than herding sheep. Why every child is taught how to dispel magic before they can take their first steps.Now come sit down by the fire. Let me tell you a story. A story you may have heard before, and you may be right, but trust me when I say my version is the correct version. You see, I was there.Long ago, long before anyone here was ever born, an evil wizard lived here. Some say his name was Balthazor the Cruel, others claim it was Galbatorixium the Flaccid. Neither are correct. It was Steve. Steve the Red. One day, a

Trail Waffles: How I Found Myself Again[↓ Jump to Recipe ↓](you can click that if you want, I won't be offended, though I will say a small prayer for you to Glizabert, Goddess of Travel, Privilege and Whatever-the-Opposite-of-White-Guilt-is)I wasn't always a person who made waffles on a donkey.I know. I know. You came here for a recipe, and instead you are getting Filmeena's Feelings, and I promise we will get there, we will get to the part with the flour and the fire, but first you have to understand about my grandmother's grandmother, a woman I never met, who according to family legend once fought off a bugbear using nothing but a cast-iron pan and sheer force of personality, and I think about her every single morning as I stand over my own cast-iron pan wondering if today is the day the bugbear comes back seeking revenge.It was autumn - or whatever passes for autumn in a world where the seasons are decided by which god is currently "on one" - and I had just left my third adventuring party in as many months

Alchemy has a reputation for grand gestures. A pinch of grave-moss, a vial of moon-condensed dew, a hair from something that used to be a person, all tipped into a vessel (usually an ornate iron cauldron) at once with great ceremony, to the delight of the audience or client. I want to be very clear with you: this is not alchemy. This is theatre, and theatre does not require you to have functioning eyebrows or both your eyes left in your head after the dust settles.Every reagent you will work with in this course has a nature. A temperament, if you like the poetic word for it, though I prefer tolerance. Wolfsbane ash wants heat, but slowly, and in the presence of something binding, or it does not steep, it seizes. Quicksilver is patient with almost everything except itself. Two measures of it in the same vessel will fight for dominance rather than combine, and the vessel, and the hands holding it, generally lose that argument. You are not required to memorise every tolerance in the first month. You are required

14th of the NeyavrMama says it's only elk, calling to each other across the valley. But I have never heard an elk sound like that. It came three times, low and long, like a horn blown by something with no lungs to exhaust. The dogs would not stop shaking until well past moonrise.16th of the NeyavrOld Tomas is gone. His wife says she heard the horn the night before. Tomas went out "to see whose fool idea it was to blow a hunting horn past curfew." I do not think it was a hunting horn. I do not think Tomas is coming back.22nd of the NeyavrThree sounds tonight. Not one. Three. Different notes, like it was... singing? Singing is the wrong word. It was closer to something practicing at being a voice. And it was angry. 29th of the NeyavrJakob, my poor sweet Jakob, we found him strangled by his own leash in the morning. The marks on the dirt and the rope burns around his neck are so deep and ragged. He wanted to get away from the woods so bad he all but ripped through his own throat. But Savanah, his mate, hasn

I never knew what to expect when travelling with Him. There were days He was quiet and focused, when nothing in the world could pull His attention from the road ahead. Other days it was as though He could not sit still in His own skin, chasing one thought after another as if they fell out of His head faster than He could follow them. The day He bowed his head to an undead king, and very nearly did not rise again, belonged to the former kind of day. He had been silent since dawn, turning something over behind His eyes, and I remember thinking that silence was the surest sign He had already made up His mind about something I would not like. The feigned confusion only guaranteed it for me. The undead paladins stood there in armour gone the colour of old rivers. They did not look up as we entered, and did not look up as He knelt among them, and did not look up even as their king rose from his throne to pronounce, in a voice like a door closing, that the traveller had been summoned to answer for the living. T

GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME TIf you want to hear more of Ellie Morris and Henry Shields go check out the Hell or High Rollers Podcast!And if you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right here! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

After learning more about worship of the ocean deity Ehellia; the Cult of Salt and Sail "dedicated" to her; and the Cup of True Passage, a sacred relic for Ehellia worshipers that the cult is literally willing to kill for. Tyke Baphammer suggests they steal the relic as a bargaining chip with the cult, Ephraim Red explains the Monty Hall problem to their companions, and Sticks sends her beloved fish companion Twigs to scout an underwater temple. Are our heroes wise to act so antagonistly towards both friend and foe? Find out!If you want to hear more of Ellie Morris and Henry Shields go check out the Hell or High Rollers Podcast!And if you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right here! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The hope, as always, is that all will be revealed at the Chapel of Ends. Unfortunately, despite Leopold’s Errant Mercenaries best efforts. It seems this House of the Dead is keeping its secrets. As Sticks and Tyke tussle with an amnesiac corpse, for whom even Speak with Dead is of no use, Ephraim investigates the mysteriously ash covered dead body of Penelope Solverson (he is then once again poisoned). Perhaps the answer lies instead with the living, in the salt encrusted taverns of the Fairburn City Docks.If you want to hear more of Ellie Morris and Henry Shields go check out the Hell or High Rollers Podcast!And if you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right here! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Suspicions are high as Leopold’s Errant Mercenaries begin to investigate, starting with the childhood bedroom of Jocelyn Solverson. Rather than providing an answer, the contents of the room only provoke further question. Tyke Baphammer destroys the rooms walls, convinced that a special diary lies within, Ephraim leaves the room entirely to investigate a suspicious lake to great effect (aside from the poisoning), and Sticks stands on a magic rock. As our heroes investigate something is beginning to become clear: the answer, whatever it is, lies deep beneath the waves.If you want to hear more of Ellie Morris and Henry Shields go check out the Hell or High Rollers Podcast!And if you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right here! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

As if the city of Fairburn Point didn’t have enough problems, tragedy has struck the prominent Solverson Family. Their daughter, Jocelyn Solverson has gone missing and in a city so awash with darkness, the poor girl could be anywhere. Leopold’s Errant Mercenaries have sent their most discrete agents to solve the problem: the self-serious Ephraim Red, the ever-distracted Sticks and her goldfish Twigs, and Tyke Baphammer a textbook Dwarf. There’s always a chance that Jocelyn has merely run off with a boy, but in the city of Fairburn Point, nothing is ever so simple.If you want to hear more of Ellie Morris and Henry Shields go check out the Hell or High Rollers Podcast!And if you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right here! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Running a business and having a toddler is hard. I don't recommend it. If you happen to be in the Gold Coast next weekend on May 23 and 24 for TableTopCon come and say hi to Zammit and Jackson as they demo Jarren's Outpost! This will be the first time Zammit will be spending night away from Johnny Baby and will need a lot of moral support.Next week Jackson and Adam are joined by Ellie Morris and Henry Shields from the Hell or High Rollers Podcast for Cult & Roses, a five-part mini campaign set in Fairburn Point where our heroes (paid mercenaries?) must get to the bottom of a kidnapping involving several cults, a mysterious sea god and a regular sea god. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The Explosive Ghoul is identical in nearly every-eth manner to their regular cousins but with several notable exceptions: Abyssal energies: what has been identified to power the ghouls has been “supercharged” extensively to such a point that the Explosive Ghoul gains its name and upon destruction will combust and release said energies at high degree and far reach. This can clearly-eth be seen-eth on thine Explosive Ghoul in its somewhat bloated-eth stomach and through its-eth eyes-eth which will instead of being white show through to the planes abyssal (red as it is speculated that the colours of thine abyss are on the average). Thy-eth savvy hunter should-eth k-note that thine Explosive Ghoul should be seen to be-eth smarter than thy average bear (or ghoul) and shall not indeed fall for the same tricks as thine non-explosive cousin. When thine Explosive Ghoul is slain one should be well away lest they become caught in the fiery (and venomous (here-eth venom shall refer-eth to the effect of creating more-eth

this one has discovered what this one likes to call ‘the-heroes-journey.’ this one believes that this ones new invention will revolutionize the science of storytelling. as important as previous story-inventions such as creative-liberties, fore-shadowing, and the-ticking-clock. possibly the most important element of a the-heroes-journey is what this one calls ‘crossing-the-threshold’ or ‘getting-to-the-good-stuff.’ perhaps that one would like if this one draws a diagram in exchange for payment? this one would accept payment in form of egg.If you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right here! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

“… and I only collect shiny things because they remind me of the stars. It reminds me of the night and your absence which I find anticipatory. I often wonder if you feel the same? Do you feel as electrified as I do to know that while you are not here now, I shall see you soon? Cresting the horizon with your enrapturing gaze. And in those moments, when you see me and smile, I understand why ice melts…”~ Nomes’ letter to Penia, 363.1804If you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right here! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.