Because I’m sometimes pre-occupied, my posts are sometimes slow. My second post on long-distance D&D (3 months ago) dealt with supplies, the first dealt with time. This one still isn’t touching on space, but instead attacking inventory. You’ve probably already heard that … more >>>
In the last post on long-distance D&D (2 weeks ago) I expounded on time. This time it’s supplies. I bet you expected space, but no. Space should be abstract. The tale of a fairytale kingdom across seven forests and six sees, five months of travel away sounds fantastic. The tale of an orc-goblin kingdom 2,276 miles away, with 1,600 light infantry and 400 heavy infantry is horrible and dull.* Also, yes, this post is also a suggestion to go and support the WTF rpg and art patreon.
That picture? It’s one of the maps for the Ultraviolet Grasslands, a fun long-distance expedition adventure I’m making over on Patreon.
This is Part 0.5 of 8 of the first WTF Expedition RPG Pointcrawl. You can get the whole Part 1, v2, here. This is a teaser for the full Patreon-supported series, which you are totally welcome to support (and follow).
The Graceful Cats of the Violet Citadel
“Soyez tranquil,” murmurs the dead-eyed lady in P.T.’s mind. Horned cats creep from hazy alleys and examine their baggage. The citadel looms, eerie and obnoxious, beyond the haze layer.
The squid parsnip shuddered as the impact shattered the dawn. The dungeon had irrupted into the life of the —valley.
According to the Pnah-u-matigg of Miblos (Easter Edition) the sentient tree processors of the Savage Forests Turquoise West of City Fifteen Human 70% are infested by a tiny race of chameleon riders.
In the six valleys of Water Bear XI the chernozyom angels would give life to dancing loam men to till the fields of the Flower War Gods during the festivals of the Balls and Sabers. Tourists and dignitaries from the plateaus of Water Bear XIII and the twin triplet cities of Fire Bear IV were regular visitors.
The hood of many horns weighed upon the angel of many horns as it beheld the cabbage of creation in the middle of the tow-path of thorns above the pass of prurient passers-by.
In a city of angels, each angel forever bears a fragile, wonderful biome for ever with them in their suit. Safe, protected, pure and inviolate, never changed by admixture or dilution. The angels speak in pulses of high-frequency radio waves repeating to each other how terrific and tremendous and hugely complex their internal environments are.