Age of Wonders, Issue 4a: Get The Box [with game notes]

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

This is insane, Maly thought, eyes wide, as she pushed her way through startled and confused ratfolk. Their fur was faintly oily and left an unpleasant residue on her skin. Her hands, arms, shoulders, and thighs all felt unclean and, she was sure, stank of the same animal musk and trash odor that filled her nostrils. Yet she had no time to linger upon the press of small, furred bodies pushing against her from all sides, nor the wave of chittering squeals of surprise. Maly ducked and wove deftly through the crowd’s backs, as though swimming upstream through a river of bodies. She hoped the shock of her presence would delay and confuse the ratfolk mob enough that her own back was free of claws and stabbing weapons. So far, it had worked. Just keeping moving, she goaded herself forward. Be gone before they register you’re there.

Get the box! a savage voice roared over her thoughts. Destiny the panther had never, in their short time together, sounded so feral and filled with battle lust.

But why!? Maly answered desperately, shoving a particularly big ratfolk out of the way and stepping into the resulting open space. She ducked forward through the press. “What’s the plan?” she said aloud, knowing the panther could somehow hear her.

Just do it!

“You’re not a very good guardian,” Maly muttered. “You’ve gotten me in far more danger than before I met you.”

I’ve never been your guardian, child, the voice grated in her skull. Is that what you thought?

“What are you then?” she panted.

Vengeance! Always vengeance.

Maly ground her teeth. What did a jeweled box have to do with vengeance? She’d made it deep into the crowd and could, from her ducked position, catch glimpses of the robed figure atop the dais. It had stopped chanting and was pointing a finger to the back of the room, where Maly’s companions, she assumed, still stood.

No time for questions. With a grunt she redoubled her efforts.

It’s Round 2 of our mega-temple-scene, and we have a new entrant into our initiative tracker. Tatter the High Priestess, who has the entire ratfolk crowd whipped into a frenzy, has spotted the group at the back of the room. When it’s her turn, things will get wild. Here are the current actors:

  • Maly (Alertness 15)
  • Tatter (14)
  • Kami & Emah (each 13)
  • Destiny (12)
  • Ratfolk mob 1 (10, 3)

Maly will continue her press forward to the dais, rolling her 13 Prowess against the mob’s score of 10. That gives her a 65% chance to successfully reach her destination without incident. She rolls an 88, though, which is a critical fail. Well… poop. I’ll say that she must defeat a brute lieutenant (the larger ratfolk she just pushed) in order to attempt another move. The brute lieutenants have an Alertness of 12, so I’ll say Lieutenant 2 goes next while the battle is here. Maly normally has a 90% chance of dodging, but because of the fumble I’ll reduce that chance to 70%. Thankfully she rolls a 62 and still manages to avoid any harm.

Now it’s Tatter’s turn, and she uses her Emotion Control to unleash a wave of anger across the ratfolk in the room. Normally rolls in Crusaders are player-facing, but in this case it’s an NPC vs. NPC roll and her Psychic Attack has an 80% of success. She rolls exactly 80, and the remaining NINE ratfolk mobs, plus all the brute and robed lieutenants, now see the PCs and will be able to act in Round 3. Yikes! I will say, however, that Tatter’s focus is on the group in the back, and she has not yet seen Maly.

Kami and Emah act next and are aware that the room has turned ugly. They’ll use their turns to move out of range (a combat move in Crusaders called Disengage), from Center of the scene to its Perimeter. Destiny, in his bloodlust, wants to finish the first ratfolk mob, and rolls a 54 against a 60% chance success. The two remaining ratfolk of mob 1 are gone in a mist of blood.

Something clamped upon Maly’s bicep and spun her around. She gasped as she faced one of the hulking rat-creatures, like the one that had tackled her outside of the jail. It stood as tall as her, with broadly muscled shoulders, long and wiry furred arms ending in frightening black claws. In her brief battle with the other brute, those claws had torn through her leather armor. Maly jerked her arm free reflexively and pulled a dagger from its sheathe. The rat creature squealed hideously.

She was dimly aware that the mob all around her had turned in unison, their backs now to the nearby dais. An unseen wave rippled through the crowd, and they began chittering wildly. As a living tide, they swarmed past Maly towards the back of the room, even as she faced off against the large, primal ratfolk in front of her. The thing’s black eyes gleamed in torchlight as it lunged at her.

Here’s where we find ourselves in Round 3:

  • Maly (Alertness 15)
  • Brute Lieutenant 2 (14)
  • Tatter (14)
  • Robed Lieutenants 1-4 (14)
  • Brute Lieutenants 3-6 (14)
  • Kami & Emah (each 13 – Perimeter)
  • Destiny (12)
  • Ratfolk mobs 2-10 (10)

Maly’s up, and she needs to defeat the brute ratfolk lieutenant in front of her solo before she can make it to the dais. She’s more of a dodger than an attacker, but her 13 Prowess against the brute’s Alertness of 14 means she has a 45% chance to hit. She rolls a 98. No good. The brute strikes back and Maly has a 90% chance to dodge now that she’s no longer surprised. A 30 is a success. The two combatants circle each other but neither makes any headway.

Upon the dais, does Tatter notice Maly or is her attention focused solely on the back of the room? Her Alertness of 14 versus a Hard difficulty of 15 means she has a 45% chance. 04. Wow, Tatter is good at noticing things! She spots Maly and the brute fighting. Unfortunately, I think Tatter will try and deal with the closest threat, Maly, and assume the horde will handle everyone else. She’ll spend this round trying to create some confusion and fear with her Emotion Control. Tatter’s Psyche is 16 versus Maly’s 12, which means Maly only has a 30% to defend herself. She rolls… 26! Woot!

At the back of the room, the Robed Lieutenants can strike from range with their “spells,” which act as Psychic Attacks versus Alertness to dodge. I’ll say that two each attack Emah and Kami. Their Psyche for the attack is 15, which means that Kami can’t be hit with her Elasticity. It’s Emah who is more vulnerable. She can’t use her sword to parry, which means that her 13 Alertness only gives her a 40% chance to dodge. She rolls a 44 and 32, dodging one but critically failing the other. I’ll say the attack does an additional 10 damage and drops her from 39 Vitality to a mere 14. One more hit and she’s down.

Destiny didn’t retreat to the Perimeter, but it’s unrealistic to say that all the remaining enemies can attack him freely. I’ll say that two brutes can strike, their 12 Prowess against the panther’s 12 Alertness meaning a 50% chance for each. Destiny rolls 18 and 62, so a miss and a hit. Twelve damage takes Destiny to 18 Vitality. On the panther’s turn, then, he Disengages to the Perimeter.

Kami can stretch, but there’s nothing explicit in the Elasticity description about being able to make a ranged attack with her fists. It makes sense that she can do so. She’ll attack one of the brutes pursuing Destiny, and with a 10 Prowess and its 14 Alertness, she has a 30% chance to hit. 29 is a hit! With her Super Strength, she smashes one to a pulp. Emah then uses her turn to flip the curtains closed, preventing the robed priests (and Kami) from being able to attack.

One mob pursues to and through the doorway, taking up all the space to attack and creating a bottleneck for the others.

As I suspected, the PCs will absolutely fall if they don’t handle this situation quickly.

Maly sidestepped and swiped with her dagger, but the thing was as fast as it was vicious. Her blade struck only air, and she danced backwards to stay out of its reach.

Meanwhile, the mob of ratfolk had surged past the two combatants, ignoring them to rush the back of the room where Emah, Destiny, and Kami had been when Maly had begun this madcap plan. In shockingly little time, she found herself alone on the hard-packed dirt floor, she and the hulking ratfolk circling one another.

A flash of light drew Maly’s attention. The four robed creatures that had been nearest the dais now stood with their backs to her, behind the roiling mass of ratfolk. As they raised their arms, sickly green energy pulsed around their clawed hands. They lobbed glowing balls, like snowballs made of ooze, over the crowd’s heads and to the back of the room. Maly had no idea what the attacks were, but she knew that her time had more than run out. She needed to deal with this brute in front of her, get the box, and get out of here.

As if on cue, the creature dove at her, snarling, hands outstretched. Maly rolled to one side and rose onto one knee.

From the dais, the ratfolk leader was chittering madly, its attention now focused on her. It pointed a clawed finger in her direction. She swallowed. This was not good.

Let’s deal with the combat at the dais itself, with Maly first, then Tatter, then the lieutenant. Depending on how that round goes, I’ll decide what to do about the mess of the rest of the combatants.

Maly again has a 45% chance to hit and this time rolls a 14. Thanks to her dagger, she does 17 damage and kills the brute lieutenant. Tatter, however, gets another chance to induce fear in Maly. Can she again avoid the attack with only a 30% chance of success? She rolls… 03! Wow! Maybe Destiny’s shielding her mind somehow?

In terms of the back of the room, I’ll say that our three PCs have retreated again, and the mob is pushing their way towards them. For the purposes of this combat, they’re all out of the scene.

Which means that Maly has one big attempt to retrieve the box. Her Acrobat power says that she can “vault, somersault, walk tightropes, swing from rooftops, and perform other spectacular feats with no chance of failure.” She will, then, attempt to launch herself up to the dais and grab the jeweled box, escaping any further attack. Maly will be able to perform the feat, but whether she can escape will require a roll. I’ll give her a +5 Alertness roll against a Hard difficulty. If she makes the 75% chance roll, she’s out and the scene is over. If not, Tatter will get one additional attack.

Maly rolls… 78. Damn. That means Tatter gets one last chance, and she’ll try Mind Control on Maly. Against all odds, can Maly resist the high priest’s powers? Once again she has a 30% chance. She rolls a 42, and will immediately use her Hero Point for the Issue, switching it to a 24 and succeeding. WHEW! If she had failed, I think the rest of the Issue would have been a rescue of mind-controlled Maly. Instead, it’s a chase!

Growling, Maly used the ratfolk brute’s tactics against it, launching herself with dagger outstretched. The creature hadn’t anticipated the move and thus was too slow to prevent Maly burying her weapon into the thing’s throat. Hot blood spurted as she rode the ratfolk’s body to the floor, then rolled forward to the edge of the dais.

Without conscious thought, Maly leapt nimbly upon the raised floor. She had never been tall for her age, but she towered over the robed leader in front of her. In one fluid motion she sheathed her dagger and scooped up the jeweled box in both arms, her legs pushing her as fast as possible to a side curtain, which she desperately hoped was an exit.

“I have the box!” she panted to the empty room.

From behind her, the robed ratfolk let out a high screech, and for a fleeting moment Maly heard the word STOP! in her mind, the voice that of a teenage, panicked girl. Maly’s steps faltered, and then Destiny’s voice bellowed, filling her every thought.

Go, child! GO!

Maly blinked, shaking her head to clear it. Golden jeweled box clutched to her torso, she vaulted from the dais like a cat. As she landed, her legs were already pumping, her eyes wide in the fading torchlight.

Maly dove through the curtain in front of her, heedless as to what might be on the other side. As she tore through the hanging barrier, she could hear the fearful, urgent chittering of the ratfolk leader, alone at the foot of the rat-god statue.

Then the sound was gone and she was hurtling through darkness, panting and stumbling forward.

Next: Ruuuun!

Age of Wonders, Issue 3 Reflections

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

Apparently, I like ending these issues of Age of Wonders on cliffhangers, because Issue 3 left us right in the middle of the hairiest (both literally and figuratively) situation our new party has encountered to date. What’s going to happen in Issue 4? I honestly have no idea, but it’s going to be a wild one.

Before we move on to Tatter and her ratfolk horde, however, let’s pause and reflect on all things Age of Wonders. I’m still very much finding my way with this solo-play-emergent-serial-fiction thing, and these pauses are proving to be a vital part of my process, a chance to pull my head up from my keyboard and dice tray, pondering changes to either my approach or story.

Suffice it to say, I’m happy right now and don’t have a lot of tweaks to make. I’m about to learn a lot from Issue 4 and however this temple scene unfolds. I suspect that my next Reflections post will be meaty as a result. Still, here are my musings on the solo game experience to date, using published material as a safety net, and building epic scenes with an eye towards my post-Issue 6 level-up. Enjoy!

Solo Play: So Far So Good

This week I received my months-delayed Kickstarter copy of Evolved, which as you may recall is a superhero game system using Dungeon Crawl Classics as a base. Since superheroes represent my favorite genre and DCC is my favorite game system, there’s a very good chance that if Evolved had met its original release schedule that I would be playing it instead of Crusaders. So, in some ways, this week is a good test of my resolve to stick with Crusaders instead of changing the system in the background to my shiny new toy (although, to be fair, Evolved is likely a system that requires a full reboot since character creation is woven into the stories it tells). Indeed, I know myself well enough that I haven’t even cracked open my chunky, 500-page Evolved rulebook for fear of becoming severely distracted from the rest of my life. When I finally succumb, I suspect my mind will ignite.

Thankfully, nine installments into this experiment and I’m feeling fine about my selection of Crusaders. Last time I mentioned some of the limitations that I see inherent within a simplified system, and those issues still exist. But I like the variant rules that I’ve added to the game. I am also benefiting from the simplified rules system, which allows me to spin up a bonkers scene like the Temple of the Rat God on the fly and with relatively little stress. Creating characters is still a delight, and the recent combat with the Bronze Armor was both tense and cinematic. As long as I’m able to keep a coherent plot while maintaining my focus on nonstop supers-on-supers action, Crusaders is likely to serve my needs. If I ever start wanting to spend more time on interpersonal scenes or other noncombat endeavors (like exploration, hazards, and chases), I’ll likely be frustrated. For now, though, the tool is fitting the job.

Since I’m extoling what’s going well, I’ll also say that I’m absolutely loving the three-installments-per-issue-then-reflections format and equally enjoying switching the point-of-view character each installment. It’s a pace that feels sustainable even while juggling a full-time, travel-heavy job, and moving between voices allows me to live in each protagonist’s brain for a week at a time. I’m not sure what happens if I decide to add another PC into the mix, but I’ll cross that bridge if and when I get there. For now, let’s just make sure our party survives their sojourn into the ratfolk warrens.

Speaking of which…

Published Material as Safety Net

When I played DCC solo for six months, I relied heavily on published adventures, first Portal Under the Stars and then Doom of the Savage Kings. That experiment was focused on learning the game system and fully stretching my gaming legs with some of their most popular adventure modules. Since that time, I’ve GMed several DCC games for groups and have fantasized about running a longer campaign sometime. When I do so, I’ll likely start with published material and then allow the story to morph and evolve into plots intimately tied to the characters’ lives and choices. At the time, though, I was glad to stick closely to the material as written by legends Joseph Goodman and Harley Stroh.

My Crusaders game differs from that first solo play experience in two key ways. First, I am now playing within a homebrewed world and a fantasy-superhero mash-up. There simply is no published material set in Age of Wonders, so anything I would try to use would require heavy modification anyway. Second, as I’ve said repeatedly, Crusaders is a simpler game to learn and master, and is inherently a comics-combat simulator. The goal of Crusaders is to make cool set pieces and have your imaginary actions figures bash against each other, with mechanics underlying it that are easy to pick up. As a result, when I began this experiment, I decided that I would make the story completely emergent and not constrained by published material.

Very quickly, of course, I changed my approach. I found that a blank canvas was a source of stress and inhibiting my ability to set goals and milestones in the story (to be clear: this is a problem with me, not with emergent storytelling). I scanned through my endless shelves of published adventures across many game systems, plucked a few modules that sounded sorta kinda close to my current story, and read through them. For those guessing at home, I used the map in No Small Crimes in Lankhmar as the basis for Sammy Suttar’s home (also, Sammy’s name), and have been relying loosely on Rats of Ilthmar for Issues 3 and 4. The Lankhmar setting, it turns out, is an excellent font of ideas for the urban adventuring of Oakton.

What I have unexpectedly enjoyed is peeking at these published adventures for maps and encounter ideas, without being in any way bound by their story beats. In No Small Crimes (spoiler alert!), the entire conceit of the adventure is that the PCs are shrunk to small size in an abandoned house. In Rats, the PCs are infiltrating a cult to a rat god in which humans are dressed like rats, and the temple is above ground. Most of each published adventure has little to do with what’s happening in Age of Wonders, but is still there to help provide inspiration and handholds when I need them. It’s been awesome; my approach so far has provided me with a creative safety net without constraining my ability to push the protagonists into increasingly wild situations. The result is at best an homage to the published material, and often unrecognizable. I’m excited to maintain my “sort of based on this but not really” approach in the future.

The Current Situation: Where Do We Go From Here?

The scene within the temple is my most ambitious one to date. A whole room full of ratfolk, with two different kinds of lieutenants, and the dastardly villain behind it all. The PCs are hopelessly outnumbered, and if this situation becomes a stand-up fight I’m reasonably sure that they will lose. But can they flee when Maly has gone into the crowd on some scheme plotted by her animal companion Destiny? I’m excited to find out, since I genuinely have no idea how this scene will play out. It could be an enormous brawl that ends with the heroes captured, or it could equally become a mad dash through the ratfolk tunnels towards the surface world, or any other number of outcomes.

My explicit goal is to “wrap up” the ratfolk story somehow by the end of Issue 6, if not before. As a result of last week’s installment, I’m exactly halfway there. My gut tells me that I need to start pointing the PCs towards resolution immediately, yet keep an open mind about side stories or unexpected twists. This enormous temple scene could be the last time we see the ratfolk for now… maybe they manage to take out Tatter and make nice with the remaining populace, for example. But I’m guessing we haven’t come to the end. The fun will be in finding out, and if the ratfolk plot somehow does find a suitable tie-off point, I have a number of smaller subplots with each character to fill out that first “trade paperback” of six issues.  

Finally, let’s continue to pour some love into Roland Brown from drawhaus.com, who continues to create amazing covers for these Age of Wonders issues. This time we got an action shot of Destiny versus Bronze Armor, and next issue features Tatter! Thank you, Roland!

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

If you’re enjoying the story or have suggestions, drop me a comment below or feel free to email me at jaycms@yahoo.com.

Next Time: Can our heroes escape the temple? [with game notes]

Age of Wonders, Issue 3c: Temple of the Rat God

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

Kami’s first thought upon glimpsing the scene beyond the curtain was that all her companions were soon going to die. Even, she suspected, the great cat Destiny. Probably not Kami herself, because she was not certain she could die any longer. Yet all the rest were doomed.

Alone, the primitive, stunted ratfolk were not particularly dangerous, much like rats themselves. Yet, also like commonplace rats, it seemed they were rarely alone.

The group had moved warily and quietly through a tunnel, following Destiny’s lead, to where the panther said the ratfolk were gathered. They’d reached a wide opening, blocked by not one but two tattered blankets arrayed side by side. Though so far Emah’s torch had been their only light in the underground warrens, surprisingly light flickered from behind the edges of the cloth. Not only light, though… Beyond the doorway they could hear the chittering and squeaking of what sounded like dozens of ratfolk. Perhaps more. The smell here was almost overpowering as well, like wet animals and feces crawling into her nose and down her throat. She stopped breathing, something she only recently realized she could do. The implications of not needing to breathe unnerved her, but it was—like so many other events from recent weeks—something left contemplated for a later time.

As they pushed the cloth gently aside, the group was confronted by an enormous chamber, perhaps fifty or more strides across and deep, and half that high. The walls of the place were packed hard, almost sculpted, and great wooden scaffolding was arrayed to support the ceiling and walls. Four wooden pillars, severed tree trunks with carved markings of some kind across their entire length, stood sentinel from floor to ceiling, giving the place the feeling of a temple or grand amphitheater. It was difficult to tell whether the ratfolk horde had found this place and built their warren around it, or whether this vast space had been their most ambitious work. Either way, it was an impressive gathering hall, especially so deep below the surface.

Against the wall to their left sat a raised, earthen dais, and atop it was a large wooden carving like the one they’d seen in the ratfolk bedchamber: A naked man with the head and tail of a rat. The statue stood fully twice as high as Kami, roughly hewn but impressive still in its menace and power. At the statue’s base stood a ratfolk in tattered robes, waving its furred and clawed hands rhythmically as it chittered. Two torches had been thrust into the earth on either side of the robed creature. Between them, at the ratfolk’s feet, sat the bejeweled box Kami had seen in Sami Suttar’s home. The torchlight caused the gems and gold to glitter hypnotically, casting dancing shadows all around the vast chamber.

Filling the chamber from the base of the dais throughout the rest of the room was a horde of ratfolk, arms raised and chittering in unison with the figure on the stage. A handful of other robed figures stood swaying closest the dais, and behind them amassed creatures like the ones they’d fought and killed several times the past day—each the size of a child, hunched and furred, with rat-like heads and beady eyes, claws tipping their long fingers and toes. They wore stained scraps of clothing, none alike. Finally, littered at the perimeter of the crowd, were several of the more hulking creatures like the one that had tackled Maly outside of the jail the previous day. Everything about these other ratfolk was stronger, larger, and more savage, almost like comparing a wolf to a domesticated dog. Unlike everyone else in the room, these rat-brutes prowled the crowd, black eyes overlooking their shorter brethren and scanning the chamber.

In all, it was a dizzying and overwhelming scene. Kami would not have been surprised to discover that a hundred in all of the creatures were in this chamber, this temple to some rat god far below Oakton. She could not even begin to fathom what it all meant, or what ritual or rite the robed priest atop the dais was performing. Kami wondered, in a brief flicker, what lay in the opened bejeweled box that she could not see, and why these primitive creatures had been so willing to die to obtain it.

Then she had no time to consider anything but survival.

The nearest large, savage ratfolk whipped its head towards them as they gathered beyond the curtained doorway. Then, with a snarl, it leapt at Emah. The Kaleen warrior raised her sword in a flash, intercepting the attack and sidestepping. Meanwhile, the ratfolk nearest them turned away from the chanting upon the dais and began chittering excitedly, pointing and moving closer to them.

“What!?” Maly whispered harshly, though no one had spoken. Kami guessed that the woman was once again having a one-sided conversation with the great, black cat. “You’re crazy! Okay. Okay! Just… Keep them safe and I’ll be back!”

Then, to Kami’s shock and horror, the pale-skinned woman dove into the onrushing crowd, tumbling and disappearing within the horde.

She had no time to ask what the fool mercenary was thinking or to help. Instead, at the speed of thought her arms lengthened wide. Like a mother embracing her oncoming children, Kami’s arms enfolded three of the nearest creatures, then closed tight. She could feel their small, furred bodies crack in her grip. They shrieked and shuddered briefly before falling still, and Kami dropped them to the dirt floor.

Near her, Emah pulled a blood-slicked blade from the side of the hulking ratfolk that had been grappling with her, its body now lifeless. The panther Destiny was savaging two of the smaller creatures, one already dead in its jaws and another squirming weakly beneath its claws.

That was fast, Kami thought proudly. The other ratfolk near them had their backs turned still, swaying and chittering and focused on the dais. Perhaps we can all survive this room, after all. If we can stay silent back here, we can make a plan. But… where is Maly?

Her eyes scanned the crowd, amazed that she could miss the Stone Islander amidst a sea of small, furred ratfolk. Kami thought that perhaps she spied a jostle of movement in the weak, flickering light, rats chittering in surprise as they were pushed aside. But before she could be sure, the robed figure on the dais stopped its swaying. Its dark, beady eyes focused on the back of the crowd, where Kami, Emah and the panther stood, and pointed a clawed finger. More loudly than it had been chanting, the figure chittered something defiant and sharp.

The entire crowd turned as one to regard them.

“Well… shit,” Emah gulped.

Next: Issue 3 Reflections!

Age of Wonders, Issue 3c: Temple of the Rat God [with game notes]

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

Kami’s first thought upon glimpsing the scene beyond the curtain was that all her companions were soon going to die. Even, she suspected, the great cat Destiny. Probably not Kami herself, because she was not certain she could die any longer. Yet all the rest were doomed.

Alone, the primitive, stunted ratfolk were not particularly dangerous, much like rats themselves. Yet, also like commonplace rats, it seemed they were rarely alone.

The group had moved warily and quietly through a tunnel, following Destiny’s lead, to where the panther said the ratfolk were gathered. They’d reached a wide opening, blocked by not one but two tattered blankets arrayed side by side. Though so far Emah’s torch had been their only light in the underground warrens, surprisingly light flickered from behind the edges of the cloth. Not only light, though… Beyond the doorway they could hear the chittering and squeaking of what sounded like dozens of ratfolk. Perhaps more. The smell here was almost overpowering as well, like wet animals and feces crawling into her nose and down her throat. She stopped breathing, something she only recently realized she could do. The implications of not needing to breathe unnerved her, but it was—like so many other events from recent weeks—something left contemplated for a later time.

As they pushed the cloth gently aside, the group was confronted by an enormous chamber, perhaps fifty or more strides across and deep, and half that high. The walls of the place were packed hard, almost sculpted, and great wooden scaffolding was arrayed to support the ceiling and walls. Four wooden pillars, severed tree trunks with carved markings of some kind across their entire length, stood sentinel from floor to ceiling, giving the place the feeling of a temple or grand amphitheater. It was difficult to tell whether the ratfolk horde had found this place and built their warren around it, or whether this vast space had been their most ambitious work. Either way, it was an impressive gathering hall, especially so deep below the surface.

Against the wall to their left sat a raised, earthen dais, and atop it was a large wooden carving like the one they’d seen in the ratfolk bedchamber: A naked man with the head and tail of a rat. The statue stood fully twice as high as Kami, roughly hewn but impressive still in its menace and power. At the statue’s base stood a ratfolk in tattered robes, waving its furred and clawed hands rhythmically as it chittered. Two torches had been thrust into the earth on either side of the robed creature. Between them, at the ratfolk’s feet, sat the bejeweled box Kami had seen in Sami Suttar’s home. The torchlight caused the gems and gold to glitter hypnotically, casting dancing shadows all around the vast chamber.

Filling the chamber from the base of the dais throughout the rest of the room was a horde of ratfolk, arms raised and chittering in unison with the figure on the stage. A handful of other robed figures stood swaying closest the dais, and behind them amassed creatures like the ones they’d fought and killed several times the past day—each the size of a child, hunched and furred, with rat-like heads and beady eyes, claws tipping their long fingers and toes. They wore stained scraps of clothing, none alike. Finally, littered at the perimeter of the crowd, were several of the more hulking creatures like the one that had tackled Maly outside of the jail the previous day. Everything about these other ratfolk was stronger, larger, and more savage, almost like comparing a wolf to a domesticated dog. Unlike everyone else in the room, these rat-brutes prowled the crowd, black eyes overlooking their shorter brethren and scanning the chamber.

In all, it was a dizzying and overwhelming scene. Kami would not have been surprised to discover that a hundred in all of the creatures were in this chamber, this temple to some rat god far below Oakton. She could not even begin to fathom what it all meant, or what ritual or rite the robed priest atop the dais was performing. Kami wondered, in a brief flicker, what lay in the opened bejeweled box that she could not see, and why these primitive creatures had been so willing to die to obtain it.

Then she had no time to consider anything but survival.

If Kami hadn’t fumbled her attempt to deal with the sentries in the last installment, the party would have had some time to formulate a plan against this bizarre and bonkers scene. Instead, the ratfolk looked briefly for the intruders and, not finding them, doubled their guard during this sacred ritual. So, unfortunately, for Kami and her companions, they now must react instead of plan.

First, let’s get organized. In the chamber there are roughly 60 ratfolk worshippers that I’ll arrange into 10 mobs of 6 each, and each with a 10 Fight score. I’ll say there are 6 total lieutenants with the same stats as the one they fought outside the jail way back in Issue 1b: Physique 12 Prowess 12 Alertness 14 Psyche 10. There are also 4 new types of lieutenants, ratfolk priests: Physique 9 Prowess 10 Alertness 14 Psyche 15 with a “spell” that acts like Psychic Attack.

The ratfolk up on stage is a Rank 1 Villain, who I’ll call Tatter, the High Priest. Time to make another NPC!

Origin: I’m pretty open to who this high priest is, so let’s just roll on my variant tables and see what happens. I roll 85 or 58, which is either a non-powered Spy/Assassin/Thief/Guide or a Wyrding – Power Endowment. The latter makes more sense to me. This is a ratfolk that was granted otherworldly power by the recent Wyrding and thus became the high priest of this society.

In this specific scene, I’m not too worried about Tatter’s history vis a vis the ICONS Origins tool, but I’ll do a couple of rolls here. Tatter is female, relatively young, social ratfolk who values herself and her friends more than anything else. Okay, interesting… so she’s a bit like a “child avatar,” a normal ratfolk teenager equivalent who was granted power and thrust into the role of high priest. I don’t know if that will matter in the story, but it’s fun.

Powers: As a Rank 1 character, Tatter gets 3 Power rolls. They are:

Roll 1: 33, which is choose or invent my own!

Roll 2: 41 or 14, which is Flight, Armor, Psychic Sense, Emotion Control, Fire Mastery, Energy Blast, Detective or Acrobat.

Roll 3: 21 or 12, which is Energy Blast, Armor, Mind Control, Emotion Control, Energy Blast, Alchemist, or Acrobat.

The ones that most stood out to me given Tatter’s role and station were Mind Control and Emotion Control, so I’m going to focus my attention there. I’ll use the first and third role for Mind Control with an Improvement: Collective Mind Control. She can basically make people (and even crowds with a united purpose, like the ratfolk horde) do what she wants. I’ll use the second roll, then, for Emotion Control. I’ll say that she can induce emotions with the same parameters as her Mind Control powers.

Attributes & Motivation: As a Rank 1 Villain, she gets 10 Attribute points to spend, same as our PCs. I’ll give her the array of Physique 10, Prowess 10, Alertness 14, Psyche 16. This also means that her Vitality is 30 (Physique x3). Motivation-wise, I’m not going to overthink this and just call her a Leader. Why are the ratfolk doing all this stuff from the previous installments? The answer seems to be because Tatter is making them do it. This also means that taking Tatter out will dramatically change the crowd’s attitudes.

Here’s Tatter’s character sheet:

Okay, despite the fumble I’m not crazy enough to kick off a combat with all these forces at once. Instead, I’m going to say that the room is focused on Tatter and her ritual, and only the closest guards will sense the PCs and act against them. For now, I’ll say that’s 1 brute-lieutenant and 1 mob of 6 ratfolk. The savage brute will attack, and the mob will use their action to alert more of the audience. At the end of each turn, I’ll make an Alertness roll to see if Tatter notices what’s happening (at which point all hell will break loose).

Initiative-wise, then, we have for Round 1:

  • Maly (Alertness 15)
  • Brute Lieutenant 1 (14)
  • Kami & Emah (each 13)
  • Destiny (12)
  • Ratfolk mob 1 (10)

The party absolutely does not have to make this an epic, large brawl, and fleeing is absolutely an option. Let’s see how this goes…

Maly will get instruction from Destiny (what’s the plan? Stay tuned!) and try and move before the action really begins. She’ll roll Prowess against the first mob, but not to attack and instead to move through them. With her Prowess of 13 and the mob’s Fight of 10, that’s a 65% chance of success. She rolls 58 and makes her way into the crowd. I’ll say one more success next round and she can be at the dais relatively unmolested.

The brute lieutenant has a choice between attacking Emah and Kami. I roll odds and it’s Emah. With her sword, Emah can defend melee attacks with a Prowess of 20 versus the brute’s score of 12. That’s a 90% chance of success and she rolls 15, parrying the attack easily.

Now’s the big decision: Do Emah and Kami run or fight or do something else? Hm. Let’s bust out the Mythic GM Emulator and insert some randomness into the action! Normally I’d do this for NPCs but I am curious how this might play with my PCs. I’ll roll twice on the Character Actions table: I get “Normal” and “Messy.” That leads me to believe that they’ll follow their normal tendencies, which for Emah will be to stay and fight for her friend and for Kami is to end the mission (which means exterminating the ratfolk) and free herself of her contract. For both, this will certainly get messy.

I’ll roll attacks for Emah (80% chance to hit the brute: 58. Hit and killed!), Kami (50% to hit the mob: 11. Critical hit! I’ll say she not only does her 30 damage, crushing half of the rats in one go, but manages to do so quickly and quietly), and Destiny (60% versus the mob: 13. Hit! 17 damage).

The first ratfolk mob only has 2 members left, one very injured. And, because of Kami’s crit, I’ll say the action doesn’t alert nearby lieutenants and mobs. The party might get some time to plan, after all! The only obstacle is Tatter, who gets an Alertness roll to see if she spots the activity in the back of the temple on her own, since she’s the only one facing them. I’ll give it a Hard difficulty in Round 1, dropping in difficulty each round. With her Alertness of 14, that’s a 45% chance: I roll 01. Oh boy. She definitely notices. Yikes.

The nearest large, savage ratfolk whipped its head towards them as they gathered beyond the curtained doorway. Then, with a snarl, it leapt at Emah. The Kaleen warrior raised her sword in a flash, intercepting the attack and sidestepping. Meanwhile, the ratfolk nearest them turned away from the chanting upon the dais and began chittering excitedly, pointing and moving closer to them.

“What!?” Maly whispered harshly, though no one had spoken. Kami guessed that the woman was once again having a one-sided conversation with the great, black cat. “You’re crazy! Okay. Okay! Just… Keep them safe and I’ll be back!”

Then, to Kami’s shock and horror, the pale-skinned woman dove into the onrushing crowd, tumbling and disappearing within the horde.

She had no time to ask what the fool mercenary was thinking or to help. Instead, at the speed of thought her arms lengthened wide. Like a mother embracing her oncoming children, Kami’s arms enfolded three of the nearest creatures, then closed tight. She could feel their small, furred bodies crack in her grip. They shrieked and shuddered briefly before falling still, and Kami dropped them to the dirt floor.

Near her, Emah pulled a blood-slicked blade from the side of the hulking ratfolk that had been grappling with her, its body now lifeless. The panther Destiny was savaging two of the smaller creatures, one already dead in its jaws and another squirming weakly beneath its claws.

That was fast, Kami thought proudly. The other ratfolk near them had their backs turned still, swaying and chittering and focused on the dais. Perhaps we can all survive this room, after all. If we can stay silent back here, we can make a plan. But… where is Maly?

Her eyes scanned the crowd, amazed that she could miss the Stone Islander amidst a sea of small, furred ratfolk. Kami thought that perhaps she spied a jostle of movement in the weak, flickering light, rats chittering in surprise as they were pushed aside. But before she could be sure, the robed figure on the dais stopped its swaying. Its dark, beady eyes focused on the back of the crowd, where Kami, Emah and the panther stood, and pointed a clawed finger. More loudly than it had been chanting, the figure chittered something defiant and sharp.

The entire crowd turned as one to regard them.

“Well… shit,” Emah gulped.

Next: Issue 3 Reflections!

Age of Wonders, Issue 3b: Into the Warrens

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

“You must be joking,” Maly said, crossing her arms and frowning. “We are not going down there.”

She, Emah, and Kami stood huddled in a musty, stone-walled cellar of the house that was once Sami Suttar’s, at a lonely cul-de-sac in the Coins. Torchlight from a short and portly City Watch guard revealed wooden shelves that had been emptied of whatever they once held, all except a few empty boxes and frayed, decaying sacks. Patches of pallid mushrooms sprouted on the earthen floor.

And there, against the western wall, was a ragged hole that looked as if it had been gnawed and clawed open from beyond.

Behind them, the liquid shadow that was Maly’s giant cat companion rumbled a low growl. The nearby Watchman yelped and moved as far as he could away from the beast. Emah couldn’t blame him. Destiny the… panther, Maly had called him? Everything about the panther’s presence spoke of a dangerous predator.

“No, I’m not scared,” Maly whispered harshly over her shoulder. “I’m just being practical. That is a deathtrap. Look how small the hole is! Emah, tell him.”

Emah sighed and immediately regretted it. Her entire torso was a quilt of bruises, and Maly had said perhaps her ribs had broken from the ancient bronze armor’s immense blow. Breathing at all hurt, but anything more sent spines of agony coursing through her. She winced and said through gritted teeth. “It’s small,” she agreed. “But the rats look like they made it big enough to go two abreast and carry whatever it is they stole upstairs. We’ll have to crouch, but we can fit.”

“Oh, well that’s just…” Maly threw up her hands in frustration. “Why do we care what they stole, again? Can’t we just wait for them here? Lay a trap or something?”

“They’re not returning,” Kami said evenly. The woman had said little since Emah had risen, though she’d asked after Emah’s health tenderly enough. Emah thought that Kami must be feeling vulnerable after having revealed her otherworldly powers and strength. Certainly, Maly had given Kami a wide berth, like she would spontaneously burst into flames at any moment. The three of them were overdue to have a long talk, and soon. That is, assuming they survived the, as Maly called it, deathtrap before them. “They stole what they wanted.”

“We’re not going after the box they stole,” Emah clarified for Maly. “Our contract is to ensure we exterminate the ratfolk or keep them from entering Oakton. This hole leads to wherever their warren is. At least that’s the theory.”

“Emah,” Maly pleaded. “You don’t follow a bear back to its cave.”

“You do if you’re trying to kill it,” Emah shrugged, and winced with pain. No more shrugging either, she scolded herself. “And what do you know of hunting bears, anyway? You’ve never left the city.”

“It’s an expression,” Maly pouted.

“One you made up,” Emah chuckled, and then told herself definitely no more chuckling. Fire blossomed in her chest and side.

“I will go first,” Kami said grimly, and took a step forward.

“No wait,” Maly held up her hands. “Destiny says he’ll go first.”

The panther stalked forward, and they parted to give him access to the hole. His yellow eyes glinted in the torchlight.

“Watchman,” Emah said to the man at the far end of the cellar. “I assume we are going alone?”

The man’s eyes were wide on his sweaty face. “We– we’ll guard the house, ma’am. Unless… unless you need us?”

She remembered Sergeant Mewa and his handsome face and strong arms. He had been a capable warrior, and intelligent, and he and his two Watchmen had been torn apart by the rats. She had been in bed when they’d taken his body away, so she hadn’t even paid her respects. A wave of sadness for a man she hardly knew washed over her, a regret of lost potential of someone she would have liked to know better. This terrified man before her was everything Mewa was not, and she could see no value in him accompanying them. Indeed, it seemed Inspector Calenta had assigned her greenest and least capable members to the house while she dealt with whatever else was happening in the city.

“No,” she told the man. “But give me your torch.”

He almost stumbled forward to comply. By the time Emah had turned with the wooden tool in her grip, the panther had disappeared.

Maly whimpered. “He says it’s all clear and that we should follow.”

“Let’s get this done,” Kami said, and ducked her way into the savage, black gash in the wall. Emah stooped after her, holding the torch in front of her. A long, earthen tunnel ran down and away in the darkness. “Stay close, Maly. We’ve got this.”

She moved forward, her ribs flaring with pain with every step, following the ratfolk to their lair.


Emah wasn’t certain how much time had passed in the tunnels beneath Oakton. The place was an immense warren worthy of any rat’s nest, an intricate series of passages dug through hard-packed earth in all directions. It smelled of fur and feces, a subtle but ever-present stench that had Emah feel unclean. As they proceeded, it became clear that the ratfolk had been able to access points all across Oakton. In addition, there were either many more of the creatures than any of them had suspected or they had been tunneling beneath the town for a long, long time. Perhaps both. Yet despite frequent droppings, discarded or broken tools, and remnants of food, they had neither heard nor seen the ratfolk yet.

Destiny the panther had assured Maly that he could find their way back when their task was done, or at least that’s what Maly informed them that he’s said. Yet even without the great cat’s tracking senses, it would not have been difficult to navigate the maze of tunnels in a general way. To get to Oakton, take a tunnel sloping upwards.

To find the true home of the ratfolk, go down.

They did not speak overly much while exploring the black tunnels. Maly relayed Destiny’s reports from ahead, that he was following the strongest scents, and now and again Emah and her friend would banter about the terrifying press of darkness all around them to keep one another sane. Kami never participated in these conversations, which usually was the reason they all fell silent. Their recent employer seemed tense, angry, and relentlessly focused on completing their mission. Emah was reminded again that, if they all survived this contract and were going to continue associating with the brothel-owner, they would need to have a serious discussion to build trust.

Every step sent a stab of pain into Emah’s side, and the relentlessness of it meant that her entire body ached. She proceeded forward as best she could, keeping eyes scanning the torchlit shadows and ears questing for any sounds but their footsteps and ragged breathing. The lack of ratfolk was an eerie thing, and their absence sat in Emah’s stomach uneasily.

Suddenly, Maly froze. Kami and Emah stuttered to a halt behind her.

“What is it?” Emah whispered.

Maly held up a hand, as if listening, but Emah heard only silence.

“Destiny says there are rats ahead,” Maly breathed quietly. “Sentries.”

“Okay,” Emah nodded, transferring the torch to her free hand and quietly unsheathing her blade. “We should…”

“I’m not afraid of them,” Kami growled, and strode forward, past her startled companions.

“Kami, wait!” Maly whispered urgently, but it was too late. The woman had already disappeared around a bend. There was a squeak of alarm and another of pain, and then Emah was there, sword out front. One crumpled ratfolk lay at Kami’s feat.

“Curse these creatures! One got away!” Kami grunted in frustration.

The panther growled, and Maly nodded in response. “That was dumb,” she snapped, and Kami blinked in surprise. “You want the whole army of them on top of us? We could have done this silently.”

“I thought–” the Kaizukan woman began, and then shook her head, exhaling forcefully through her nose. “You’re right. I apologize.” She looked at Emah briefly and said, almost demurely. “What do we do now?”

“It went to sound an alarm, I assume,” Emah said through the throbbing pain in her side. “But the fact that there are guards means we’re close to something. Let’s hurry and see if we can find a place to hide. If not, we fight.”

The panther huffed and began loping forward. The others followed, though running in a crouch was agony for Emah’s battered side. For the next stretch of time—it could have been minutes, it could have been a full bell, she couldn’t be sure through her near-blinding pain—they weaved through even larger tunnels, the ground hard-packed and well-trod. Echoing from nearby passages and around curves they heard the telltale chittering and squeaking of ratfolk, and Maly told them breathlessly that the panther smelled the things everywhere.

Eventually, they found that they had been largely circling a central destination of some kind, complete with tattered, mismatched cloth and burlap flaps as doors. Perhaps it was the topmost section of a larger living area, or perhaps the barricades were meant to distinguish the warren from other traveling passages beyond. Regardless, Destiny led them past several of the doorways and to a passageway blocked by a long woolen cloak that what looked like it had once belonged to an Oaktowner. The large black beast pushed its way past the cloak and the other followed, into an empty chamber beyond.

“He says there are older smells here, nothing new,” Maly whispered, her face slick with sweat in the torchlight. “It’s as good a hiding place as we’re likely to find.”

“I was… rash,” Kami said. Unlike Maly and Emah, she neither seemed out of breath nor sweating. “I should not have charged those sentries in the darkness without help.”

“We all agree,” Emah gasped, and sat, back against one earthen wall, trying to catch her breath and find respite from the pain. “Don’t do it again. We need each other alive.”

They were in a modestly sized space, but it was certainly a chamber instead of a tunnel. Roughly square, with several sleeping pallets made of straw, scraps of clothing, and various trash. A low, battered table was its only furnishing, and atop the table was a curious, crude statue made of wood that nevertheless distinctly appeared to be a naked man with a rat’s head and tail. If Emah were to guess, it looked like an idol of some kind. Did these ratfolk worship a rat… god? The idea made her uncomfortable, for it meant a level of intelligence that she hadn’t attributed to them. Perhaps extermination wasn’t the aim here, but diplomacy instead? Her mind whirled, thoughts scattered by stabs of pain.

“What is this place?” she said in quiet wonder. “What are these creatures?”

No one answered.

Emah squeezed her eyes tight, her breathing shallow. Her ribs hurt terribly. Her thoughts were a jumble. Would she die down here?

Unbidden an image of her mother appeared in her mind, face strong and smiling. Her mother’s natural countenance was intimidating in its seriousness, like a predator. But when she smiled, those white teeth contrasting with the dark chocolate of her skin, well… the whole world lit up, her father used to say. Emah couldn’t remember the sound of her laugh, though the image of the smile was enough in this moment to lift her spirits. She fixed her mother’s happy portrait in her mind, focused on it while walling away the pain into a smaller and smaller space, until the little package of pain was a fraction the size of her mother’s countenance. Then, like a portrait on a wall, she tucked the pain behind the image, blocking it from view. For one long, even breath she stared at her mother’s dark eyes, her full lips, drawing strength. No, she decided. She would not die down here, in these rat warrens away from the sun and her father.

She exhaled and opened her eyes. Maly and Kami looked at her, concerned, while the panther prowled at the far end of the room near another tattered cloth.

“You okay?” Maly mouthed, eyes wide.

Emah nodded. With only a small grunt she stood. “Let’s go and do our job,” she whispered, and realized that she had not sheathed her mother’s sword. The blade shone in the torchlight, flashing like the smile in her image. She grinned.

Destiny pushed through the cloth hanging and the others followed. Beyond was a passageway, branching left and right.

“Which way?” Emah asked Maly.

The woman cocked her head. “He says the rat smell is strongest to the left. And…” her whispered voice trailed off and she swallowed.

“What is it?” Kami said, her face narrowed with suspicion.

“And he says there are a lot of them.”

“Are they coming towards us?” Emah asked, eyes searching the small living space for a defensible position.

Maly paused, waiting for the answer, and then shook her head.

“You didn’t want to have them all swarm us,” Kami hissed through clenched teeth. Her tone suggested that she did not like speaking of her own mistakes, but Emah did appreciate that she asked the next question before acting independently. “Do we go crush them now or flee?”

Emah looked from the Kaizukan woman to her friend’s wide-eyed face to the black mass of the panther. She sighed.

“Let’s go see what they’re up to,” Emah said.

Next: So many rats!

Age of Wonders, Issue 3a: The Roar of Destiny

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

Maly’s elation at Destiny’s arrival was cut short when two ratfolk jumped atop Sergeant Mewa, one upon a shoulder with a shard of glass and another at his waist with a crude stake. As Mewa grunted, they plunged their weapons into him again and again in the span of a heartbeat, chittering madly as they did so. The City Watchman gurgled and slumped to the floor of the landing as their companions swarmed up the stairs, flowing around Maly and into the breach of wall made my Kami earlier in the battle.

She glanced at the staircase, hearing the roar of the panther as it pounced upon the fleeing ratfolk.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Maly panted, spinning a dagger in each hand. She extended her tattooed arms to either side as mangy rat-people ran past her like a stinking river of furry bodies. One of her blades sliced across a creature’s neck and another cut across ribs. Both ratfolk squealed, and suddenly a pair of them flashed claws in the dim light. Maly danced to avoid one strike and ducked another. Despite the madness of the situation—fighting primal, inhuman creatures she would have thought a children’s story, with an enormous black cat as her companion who spoke in her mind, while a woman with impossible strength fought a glowing-eyed man in a full suit of bronze armor—Maly grinned. Her endless training was serving her well.

Stay focused! the cat roared in her mind. Destiny had reached the top of the staircase. It shook a lifeless rat in its jaws while raking claws across another’s back, and Maly once again marveled at the creature. It resembled a house cat, its coat sleek and black, but was the size of a large hunting dog, its shoulders to Maly’s waist. The great cat called itself a “panther,” which Maly thought described it as well as anything – a new word for a new kind of beast. Intelligent yellow eyes stared back at her. Continue ripping the small toys, the panther growled in her mind. I’ve got the big one.

As it loped past her into the room with Emah and Kami, she heard a thunderous CLANG! followed by a grunt of satisfaction from Kami. “Come on!” the woman yelled, seemingly taunting the figure in the armor. At least, Maly thought, it sounded like that part of the fight was going well. Her eyes glanced to Sergeant Mewa, laying lifeless near her feet, and the other two Watch members, their forms still and bloody. Better than this part, at least.

Then she spun the daggers again in her grip, leaping after the swarm of rats.

The ratfolk weren’t interested in staying to fight her, it seemed. She slashed with her knife, eliciting a screech from one of them as she nicked its long, ropy tail. But then the tide of furry bodies had disappeared into the jagged hole left by Kami’s flight through the air. She still couldn’t believe that the armored guy had punched her through a wall, or that she had stood up and continued fighting. Whatever Kami was, it was something extraordinary. As extraordinary, she supposed, as every other weird happening from today.

Maly hesitated for a moment, wondering what to do. Should she pursue the rats into that other room or help Emah and Destiny? Then she shook her head. Despite the panther’s instruction, that was no choice at all. She ran into the room with her friends.

The warrior in the full suit of bronze armor was now battered, with one shoulder malformed as if it had been hit by a battering ram. The person’s eyes in the helm still glowed an eerie blue in the fading light, however, and as soon as she entered the room an apprehension clenched at her gut. The armored figure turned between Emah, who looked as if she could barely stand and was clutching at her side, and Kami, trying to defend himself against both attackers.

Maly stopped for a moment, stunned at her recent employer. The Kaizukan woman’s torso and arms had elongated, like pulling gooey sap from a tree, and her fists had grown to twice their original size. Even as she watched, the armored warrior threw a gauntleted punch at Kami and her misshapen body moved to avoid it easily. It was like the man was battling mist, or perhaps trying to strike a dangling rope in the wind. Kami flowed and moved her body in impossible ways, looming with those large hands. Indeed, Maly realized now that the enormous dent in the armor’s shoulder was from one of Kami’s oversized fists. The woman was clearly not a trained fighter, but she was displaying the same freakish strength that had bent iron bars in the jail this morning. If she could land a hit, she could do tremendous damage.

Destiny broke Maly from her thoughts as he roared at the three combatants before him. Kami and Emah looked wide-eyed at the great, black cat, its mouth open to reveal white teeth like daggers. Yet it was the armored warrior’s response that was most shocking; the blue light in the eye sockets flared in response to the roar and it reeled back, as if struck in the helmet. The warrior tipped and fell back from the unseen strike, and when it landed to the floor, the armor burst apart. Grieves, gauntlets, pauldrons… Maly didn’t know all the names of the parts of armored suits, but they all crashed and clattered in different directions, empty. It was as if the man wearing the armor had vanished with Destiny’s roar, leaving only the bronze armor behind. A helmet rolled Maly’s way, almost lazily, amidst the cacophony. It stopped a stride from her feet, eye sockets empty and dark.

“What did you do?!” Maly gasped at the great cat. In her mind, she heard a huff of satisfaction. “Where did you send him?”

The panther’s yellow eyes regarded her evenly. There was no “him.” The enchantment on the armor is gone. He sighed, and Maly could hear it like someone sitting on her shoulder with lips against her ear. It’s too bad. Nothing soft to tear and rip like the little dirty toys.

“The rats!” Maly yelled, and without thinking dashed back into the landing, daggers ready. She looked around wildly in the fading light, but there were only the three dead City Watch members and a scattering of small, furred bodies. Blood spattered everywhere, and Maly’s stomach lurched.

You’re too late, child. The toys have fled.

“Wh—what?” she panted, holding her bile at bay. She stumbled back into the room, where Kami remained distorted, her large fists raised, as she stared at Destiny.

“Maly!” she barked. “What is this?”

“Oh!” Maly said and sheathed her daggers. “It’s okay! This is Destiny. My friend.”

We are not friends, the panther rumbled. I am your instrument of vengeance.

“I’m not saying that,” Maly mumbled sidelong.

“Your… friend?” Emah wheezed, and then swayed. The woman’s sword clattered to the floor as she collapsed.

“Emah!” Maly cried.


Emah groaned and cracked open her eyes, then winced and raised a hand to shield her face from a beam of sunlight.

“There she is!” Maly smiled brightly. “Welcome back to the world.”

Emah blinked and looked around woozily. “Where are we?” she croaked, her voice a dry whisper. Maly passed her a waterskin and Emah took it, sipping gratefully. As she swallowed, she visibly winced.

“Easy,” Maly cautioned. “You may have some broken ribs. It’s tough to tell because of all the intense bruising across half your side.”

“Where?” Emah persisted, and Maly glanced around. Her friend lay in a large poster bed set against a wall, its drapes drawn shut but illuminated by sunlight beyond. A fireplace filled with ancient ashes and charred wood was across room against the far wall. A wardrobe, towering like an escarpment, stood against another wall. The place smelled of dust and old linens.

“Ah, yeah. We’re still in the house. It’s morning. We moved you to the bedroom on the second floor. It’s musty and old, but otherwise pretty nice I guess,” Maly shrugged a bare shoulder. She had been up most of the night and stifled a yawn. “Inspector Calenta and her people cleared out most of the bodies. A couple of them are guarding the downstairs with Kami. Except Calenta left because Kami kept insulting her.”

Emah sighed and closed her eyes. “I remember the man in the armor, and then… a huge cat? What happened.”

Heat rushed to Maly’s cheeks. “His name is Destiny. He’s my… I don’t know. We met a few days ago. I’ve been trying to tell you, but we never really had any time to talk.”

The woman’s eyes opened. She grinned. “You met a giant cat and named it Destiny?”

“I didn’t name him!” Maly threw up her hands in exasperation. “That’s just what he calls himself.”

“Calls himself,” Emah frowned. “Is that who you’ve been talking to? The giant cat? Oh honey…”

“I’m not crazy,” Maly snapped. “Here, Destiny,” she turned and Emah’s eyes followed to see the panther sitting outstretched against a wall, light dappling its black fur from the window. Its yellow eyes looked back at them. Maly saw Emah stiffen. “I know you only talk to me, but, uh… I don’t know. Do something to show I’m not crazy. Come lay a paw on Emah’s leg or something.”

You do not command me, child, the great cat said in her mind, and within the room he grumbled with a low growl.

“Fine, fine!” Maly snapped. “He’s moody. But,” she held up a warning finger to Emah. “I’m not crazy. He does talk to me.”

Emah’s eyes never left the great cat. She licked her lips. “Okay…” she breathed cautiously. “Maly, what’s happening? The way Kami’s body moves. Her strength. The armored warrior with the glowing eyes. All these… ratfolk. And you’re talking to a giant cat. Maybe I’m the one losing my wits.”

“If you are, we all are. Inspector Calenta says that wild things are happening all across Oakton. The City Watch can’t keep up, and the stuff you described is just part of it. She seems really stressed. Oh! But she did bring our contracts. I signed for you.” Maly smiled. “So at least we’re getting paid in this child’s tale of a city.”

“Thanks,” Emah grunted. “But what does it all mean? Why are these things happening? It all sounds like the Age of Immortals again.”

“Heh, like I know? I don’t think the gods are back, Emah. But you’re the scholar, not me. I’m just glad you’re alive. Now that I know you’re okay, Destiny, Kami, and I are going after the rats. Kami said there was some sort of bejeweled box in that room she crashed into. It must have been what the rats were after from the beginning because it’s gone now. We think the dead ones on the stairs were trying to get past the armor to the other room, but when we started fighting it they used the distraction to go into the hole in the wall Kami made and take the box away. They were gone before we realized it.”

“But…” Emah frowned. “Why? What was in the box? And where did they go?”

“Destiny says their scent goes down to the basement,” Maly sighed. “So I guess we’re going down there to find out the answers to all of those questions. You rest and heal. We’ll be back once we’ve taken a look.”

Emah threw off her blanket. Beneath it she was shirtless, with bandages wrapped around her midsection. “Like hell,” she said. The Kaleen woman winced again and grunted with pain. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” Maly blurted. “You can’t be serious.”

“By the gods, Maly. Shut up and just help me with my shirt and breastplate, will you? We’ve already let them get too large a head start.”

Oh, I like this one. Destiny rumbled.

Next: Into the darkness!

Age of Wonders, Issue 3a: The Roar of Destiny [with game notes]

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

Maly’s elation at Destiny’s arrival was cut short when two ratfolk jumped atop Sergeant Mewa, one upon a shoulder with a shard of glass and another at his waist with a crude stake. As Mewa grunted, they plunged their weapons into him again and again in the span of a heartbeat, chittering madly as they did so. The City Watchman gurgled and slumped to the floor of the landing as their companions swarmed up the stairs, flowing around Maly and into the breach of wall made my Kami earlier in the battle.

She glanced at the staircase, hearing the roar of the panther as it pounced upon the fleeing ratfolk.

Alas, Sergeant Mewa… we hardly knew ye. We pick up the combat with Round 5! Before we get into the action, let’s remind ourselves of the initiative order as well as where everyone stands (or, in Emah’s case, sits woozily) health-wise. All three of our City Watch members are dead, including most recently Sergeant Hakau Mewa. Their death also means that the ratfolk mobs can either enter the room with the other combatants or the room in which Kami made a hole through the wall. Here’s the initiative order, health, and location of each remaining combatant:

  1. Maly (30 Vitality, landing)
  2. Kami (2 of 30, main room)
  3. Emah (1 of 39, main room – also needs to get her sword)
  4. Destiny (30, landing)
  5. Ratfolk mob 1 (10,10,10, landing)
  6. Ratfolk mob 2 (10,10,10, landing)
  7. Ratfolk mob 3 (10,10,10, landing)
  8. Bronze Armor (39 of 54, main room)

Maly will take a swipe with her daggers at the ratfolk as they move past her. She has a 65% chance of hitting and rolls 49. She kills one and takes another to half health.

Kami is facing off against the Bronze Armor alone. She would normally have a 50% chance to hit, but with the Aura of Fear that is 30%. She rolls 13, though! She’ll use her full strength, dealing a whopping 30 damage. Armor subtracts 10, but that’s still a big wallop and takes it to 19 Vitality. Moreover, it would deal significant knockback to most creatures, but the Bronze Armor’s 38 Strength Level means that it is just a deafening strike.

Emah is no longer stunned, but she spends the round retrieving her sword and standing. She is on 1 Vitality.

Destiny is bounding after the fleeing ratfolk. He has a 60% chance of success and rolls 45. With his claws, he does 17 damage, killing one of the mob and severely injuring another.

The first mob is the one Maly attacked and will try and kill her while their brethren attend to other business. With her Acrobatics, though, she cannot be hit. They won’t try that again.

Ratfolk mobs 2 & 3 travel into the room beyond the hole in the wall, taking the small box encrusted with gold and jewels (this is what they were after all along). I’ll say they have moved to the Perimeter of the battle as a result.

Finally, the Bronze Armor has just been dented by Kami’s mighty blow. It will try and return the favor. Its Prowess is 16 against her Elasticity score of 25. That would normally give her a 95% chance of dodging, but with the Aura of Fear it drops to 75%. She rolls 64, though, and remains elusive. A good round for our heroes!

“Where do you think you’re going?” Maly panted, spinning a dagger in each hand. She extended her tattooed arms to either side as mangy rat-people ran past her like a stinking river of furry bodies. One of her blades sliced across a creature’s neck and another cut across ribs. Both ratfolk squealed, and suddenly a pair of them flashed claws in the dim light. Maly danced to avoid one strike and ducked another. Despite the madness of the situation—fighting primal, inhuman creatures she would have thought a children’s story, with an enormous black cat as her companion who spoke in her mind, while a woman with impossible strength fought a glowing-eyed man in a full suit of bronze armor—Maly grinned. Her endless training was serving her well.

Stay focused! the cat roared in her mind. Destiny had reached the top of the staircase. It shook a lifeless rat in its jaws while raking claws across another’s back, and Maly once again marveled at the creature. It resembled a house cat, its coat sleek and black, but was the size of a large hunting dog, its shoulders to Maly’s waist. The great cat called itself a “panther,” which Maly thought described it as well as anything – a new word for a new kind of beast. Intelligent yellow eyes stared back at her. Continue ripping the small toys, the panther growled in her mind. I’ve got the big one.

As it loped past her into the room with Emah and Kami, she heard a thunderous CLANG! followed by a grunt of satisfaction from Kami. “Come on!” the woman yelled, seemingly taunting the figure in the armor. At least, Maly thought, it sounded like that part of the fight was going well. Her eyes glanced to Sergeant Mewa, laying lifeless near her feet, and the other two Watch members, their forms still and bloody. Better than this part, at least.

Then she spun the daggers again in her grip, leaping after the swarm of rats.

Round 6, with the same combatants remaining. I have a feeling this fight is coming to an end.

  1. Maly (30 Vitality, landing)
  2. Kami (2 of 30, main room)
  3. Emah (1 of 39, main room)
  4. Destiny (30, main room)
  5. Ratfolk mob 1 (10,5, landing)
  6. Ratfolk mob 2 (10,10,10, other room)
  7. Ratfolk mob 3 (10,3, other room)
  8. Bronze Armor (19 of 54, main room)

Maly will try and take out the rest of mob #1, still with a 65% of success. Her roll of 68 means that either she’s too distracted or they’re too tricksy.

Can Kami or Emah end the Bronze Armor threat? Kami has a 30% of success and rolls 56. Emah, meanwhile, has a Prowess of 20 with her sword, giving her an 80% chance of success even with the Aura of Fear. She rolls 72, hitting and dealing 20 damage, minus 10 from her opponent’s Armor. It’s at 9 Vitality.

…just in time for Destiny to arrive! The panther uses its Psychic Attack against the Bronze Armor. His Psyche score is 14 versus 10, which means a 70% chance of success. That attack is, thankfully, not a melee attack, and thus doesn’t suffer the penalty from the Aura. Destiny rolls 09, and pow! 14 psychic damage to the dome. The Bronze Armor has not activated its Psychic Shield (why would it?), so the attack fells the enchanted armor. Woo!

With the box in hand, all three ratfolk mobs will exit stage left. They want no part of the fight in the other room or to face the PCs, so they use their turn to flee. By the time the party knows what happened, they’re gone. Fight over!

The ratfolk weren’t interested in staying to fight her, it seemed. She slashed with her knife, eliciting a screech from one of them as she nicked its long, ropy tail. But then the tide of furry bodies had disappeared into the jagged hole left by Kami’s flight through the air. She still couldn’t believe that the armored guy had punched her through a wall, or that she had stood up and continued fighting. Whatever Kami was, it was something extraordinary. As extraordinary, she supposed, as every other weird happening from today.

Maly hesitated for a moment, wondering what to do. Should she pursue the rats into that other room or help Emah and Destiny? Then she shook her head. Despite the panther’s instruction, that was no choice at all. She ran into the room with her friends.

The warrior in the full suit of bronze armor was now battered, with one shoulder malformed as if it had been hit by a battering ram. The person’s eyes in the helm still glowed an eerie blue in the fading light, however, and as soon as she entered the room an apprehension clenched at her gut. The armored figure turned between Emah, who looked as if she could barely stand and was clutching at her side, and Kami, trying to defend himself against both attackers.

Maly stopped for a moment, stunned at her recent employer. The Kaizukan woman’s torso and arms had elongated, like pulling gooey sap from a tree, and her fists had grown to twice their original size. Even as she watched, the armored warrior threw a gauntleted punch at Kami and her misshapen body moved to avoid it easily. It was like the man was battling mist, or perhaps trying to strike a dangling rope in the wind. Kami flowed and moved her body in impossible ways, looming with those large hands. Indeed, Maly realized now that the enormous dent in the armor’s shoulder was from one of Kami’s oversized fists. The woman was clearly not a trained fighter, but she was displaying the same freakish strength that had bent iron bars in the jail this morning. If she could land a hit, she could do tremendous damage.

Destiny broke Maly from her thoughts as he roared at the three combatants before him. Kami and Emah looked wide-eyed at the great, black cat, its mouth open to reveal white teeth like daggers. Yet it was the armored warrior’s response that was most shocking; the blue light in the eye sockets flared in response to the roar and it reeled back, as if struck in the helmet. The warrior tipped and fell back from the unseen strike, and when it landed to the floor, the armor burst apart. Grieves, gauntlets, pauldrons… Maly didn’t know all the names of the parts of armored suits, but they all crashed and clattered in different directions, empty. It was as if the man wearing the armor had vanished with Destiny’s roar, leaving only the bronze armor behind. A helmet rolled Maly’s way, almost lazily, amidst the cacophony. It stopped a stride from her feet, eye sockets empty and dark.

“What did you do?!” Maly gasped at the great cat. In her mind, she heard a huff of satisfaction. “Where did you send him?”

The panther’s yellow eyes regarded her evenly. There was no “him.” The enchantment on the armor is gone. He sighed, and Maly could hear it like someone sitting on her shoulder with lips against her ear. It’s too bad. Nothing soft to tear and rip like the little dirty toys.

“The rats!” Maly yelled, and without thinking dashed back into the landing, daggers ready. She looked around wildly in the fading light, but there were only the three dead City Watch members and a scattering of small, furred bodies. Blood spattered everywhere, and Maly’s stomach lurched.

You’re too late, child. The toys have fled.

“Wh—what?” she panted, holding her bile at bay. She stumbled back into the room, where Kami remained distorted, her large fists raised, as she stared at Destiny.

“Maly!” she barked. “What is this?”

“Oh!” Maly said and sheathed her daggers. “It’s okay! This is Destiny. My friend.”

We are not friends, the panther rumbled. I am your instrument of vengeance.

“I’m not saying that,” Maly mumbled sidelong.

“Your… friend?” Emah wheezed, and then swayed. The woman’s sword clattered to the floor as she collapsed.

“Emah!” Maly cried.


Although Maly was injured against the first ratfolk lieutenant way back in Issue 1b, I haven’t yet discussed healing and recovery in the Crusaders rpg. In an interesting game design choice, heroes in Crusaders always recover their full Vitality total between scenes unless they are in a “critical state” (which would have happened to Kami and Emah had either taken more damage). This doesn’t mean that their injuries are gone, but that the heroes have pulled themselves together enough to keep going. The game is meant to simulate comic books, after all. I’m fine with this mechanic, but for my own sense of realism it means that I’m going to fast-forward the narrative to a point where the “I can do this all day” phenomenon isn’t completely silly. It also means that I have no worries about going hard against the heroes in future battles!

Emah groaned and cracked open her eyes, then winced and raised a hand to shield her face from a beam of sunlight.

“There she is!” Maly smiled brightly. “Welcome back to the world.”

Emah blinked and looked around woozily. “Where are we?” she croaked, her voice a dry whisper. Maly passed her a waterskin and Emah took it, sipping gratefully. As she swallowed, she visibly winced.

“Easy,” Maly cautioned. “You may have some broken ribs. It’s tough to tell because of all the intense bruising across half your side.”

“Where?” Emah persisted, and Maly glanced around. Her friend lay in a large poster bed set against a wall, its drapes drawn shut but illuminated by sunlight beyond. A fireplace filled with ancient ashes and charred wood was across room against the far wall. A wardrobe, towering like an escarpment, stood against another wall. The place smelled of dust and old linens.

“Ah, yeah. We’re still in the house. It’s morning. We moved you to the bedroom on the second floor. It’s musty and old, but otherwise pretty nice I guess,” Maly shrugged a bare shoulder. She had been up most of the night and stifled a yawn. “Inspector Calenta and her people cleared out most of the bodies. A couple of them are guarding the downstairs with Kami. Except Calenta left because Kami kept insulting her.”

Emah sighed and closed her eyes. “I remember the man in the armor, and then… a huge cat? What happened.”

Heat rushed to Maly’s cheeks. “His name is Destiny. He’s my… I don’t know. We met a few days ago. I’ve been trying to tell you, but we never really had any time to talk.”

The woman’s eyes opened. She grinned. “You met a giant cat and named it Destiny?”

“I didn’t name him!” Maly threw up her hands in exasperation. “That’s just what he calls himself.”

“Calls himself,” Emah frowned. “Is that who you’ve been talking to? The giant cat? Oh honey…”

“I’m not crazy,” Maly snapped. “Here, Destiny,” she turned and Emah’s eyes followed to see the panther sitting outstretched against a wall, light dappling its black fur from the window. Its yellow eyes looked back at them. Maly saw Emah stiffen. “I know you only talk to me, but, uh… I don’t know. Do something to show I’m not crazy. Come lay a paw on Emah’s leg or something.”

You do not command me, child, the great cat said in her mind, and within the room he grumbled with a low growl.

“Fine, fine!” Maly snapped. “He’s moody. But,” she held up a warning finger to Emah. “I’m not crazy. He does talk to me.”

Emah’s eyes never left the great cat. She licked her lips. “Okay…” she breathed cautiously. “Maly, what’s happening? The way Kami’s body moves. Her strength. The armored warrior with the glowing eyes. All these… ratfolk. And you’re talking to a giant cat. Maybe I’m the one losing my wits.”

“If you are, we all are. Inspector Calenta says that wild things are happening all across Oakton. The City Watch can’t keep up, and the stuff you described is just part of it. She seems really stressed. Oh! But she did bring our contracts. I signed for you.” Maly smiled. “So at least we’re getting paid in this child’s tale of a city.”

“Thanks,” Emah grunted. “But what does it all mean? Why are these things happening? It all sounds like the Age of Immortals again.”

“Heh, like I know? I don’t think the gods are back, Emah. But you’re the scholar, not me. I’m just glad you’re alive. Now that I know you’re okay, Destiny, Kami, and I are going after the rats. Kami said there was some sort of bejeweled box in that room she crashed into. It must have been what the rats were after from the beginning because it’s gone now. We think the dead ones on the stairs were trying to get past the armor to the other room, but when we started fighting it they used the distraction to go into the hole in the wall Kami made and take the box away. They were gone before we realized it.”

“But…” Emah frowned. “Why? What was in the box? And where did they go?”

“Destiny says their scent goes down to the basement,” Maly sighed. “So I guess we’re going down there to find out the answers to all of those questions. You rest and heal. We’ll be back once we’ve taken a look.”

Emah threw off her blanket. Beneath it she was shirtless, with bandages wrapped around her midsection. “Like hell,” she said. The Kaleen woman winced again and grunted with pain. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” Maly blurted. “You can’t be serious.”

“By the gods, Maly. Shut up and just help me with my shirt and breastplate, will you? We’ve already let them get too large a head start.”

Oh, I like this one. Destiny rumbled.

Next: Into the darkness!

Age of Wonders, Issue 1c: Inspector Calenta

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

“Stop right there!” a guard, young and confident, pointed his finger at the trio as Kami and Emah pulled Maly to stand. The young Maly stumbled, still disoriented and wounded from the hulking rat creature lying dead at her feet. She blinked, her eyes trying to focus.

“We have to go, Maly,” Emah hissed through clenched teeth.

“I… I got it. Okay,” she panted. The guard was within several strides of them now, with more green-and-yellow livery bobbing through the crowd of gawkers behind.

“Kami?” the young man said, confused. He was Kaleen, dark skinned and tall, with a shaved head shining in the sun. As with all City Watch members, he held a broad-headed spear. Kami swore, briefly tucking her face below the wide brim of her hat before looking up with her masked face. She knew this man. Intimately.

“Hello, Hakau,” she said, straightening. Kami leaned on her walking stick casually, as if there weren’t a humanoid rat laying in a bloody pool on the cobblestone street between them. Her mind reeled, trying to find a way out of this mess. Why did these creatures have to attack the jail, today of all days? Why did they have to kill Hothorp before she could get to him? It was all insufferably bad luck.

Her more intimidating bodyguard, Emah Elmhill, scanned around them with a glower. A crowd had gathered, pointing and exclaiming at the dead rat-thing, muttering at Maly’s bloody, torn clothing. More Watch members emerged from the crowd, stopping and gaping at the unnatural corpse. Dammit all to the bottom of the sea!

“Sargeant Mewa?” a young Mesca woman in green and yellow asked the man, stepping forward hesitantly. Kami did not recognize her. “What do we do, sir?”

“What happened here, Kami?” he asked, ignoring the question from his colleague. His big, brown eyes were the man’s best feature, despite all the long, lean muscles and that honey-deep voice.

Kami shrugged with one shoulder, not taking her eyes from his. She sighed. “We were attacked in the jail, Hakau. I would only allow your strongest of heart and most loyal to go in there. It’s… like this,” she nodded her chin to the corpse. “But far worse. Everyone inside is dead.”

The sergeant licked his lips, then frowned, deep in thought, his heavy brows bunching. Poor man. He took his responsibilities so seriously.

“How does she know him?” Kami heard Maly whisper behind her.

Emah huffed through her nose. Kami imagined the woman rolling her eyes. “She runs a brothel, twit.”

“But… oh.”

Despite her tattoos, knife, and profession, Maly Wywich was very much an innocent. It made the woman adorable, but also a dangerous companion.

“Quiet,” Kami hissed back at them. They quieted.

Hakau cleared his throat, reaching up to unclasp his yellow cloak. “Esira,” he said to the woman behind him, who had been staring, wide-eyed, at the creature. She looked up at hearing her name. “Give me your cloak so I can cover this body. Then take two you trust into the jail. Leave the rest on crowd control and keep them the blazes away from here.”

“Y- yes, sir,” Esira stammered, unclasping her own cloak. Hakau spread his garment over the creature’s top half. “What about… uh, those three, sir?”

The sergeant’s brown eyes flicked up to Kami, then Emah and Maly. “I’ll escort them to the Keep when we’re done here. You’ll stay put, Kami?”

Kami half-smiled, though her voice held no warmth. “I suppose you’d know where to find me, Hakau.” He glowered as she let those words hang in the air, but the effect was lost on his companion Esira. It didn’t appear she heard the implication of the comment as she moved to cover the body. Kami sighed. “So yes, we’ll stay. I doubt we can answer any questions for you, though. We are simply bystanders here.”

“Well,” Emah growled behind her. “Our first job has been a bloody disaster.”

Much to everyone’s surprise, Maly laughed.


Estancia Calenta was not what Kami expected from a City Watch investigator. She was in her middle years, round in stature, with a pleasant, dimpled, large-eyed face that would age gracefully into her grandmotherly years. A simple green kerchief covered her otherwise loose, long black hair in the Mesca style. But, Kami noted, her hands were calloused and scarred, her fingernails short. Kami suspected this woman had seen her share of hard work and horror despite her maternal bearing, and she had never seen her within the walls of the Golden Heron.

Inspector Calenta leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking, and folded those hardened hands on the desk between her and the three other women. Kami and her two bodyguards all sat on stools in an unadorned, square room made of stone with high, small windows. They had taken her walking stick, Emah’s sword, and Maly’s two knives, assuring the group that they’d be returned when exiting the Keep. Two Watch members stood flanking the heavy, iron-banded door behind them.

“Alright, my dears, let me repeat the story. To make sure I’ve got it, ah?” she said, her voice husky, warm, and deep, like aged whisky. She addressed Kami. “You hired these two to accompany you to the jail because you feared harassment of some kind.”

“Yes,” Kami nodded. The inspector waited to see if she would elaborate, but Kami did not. She found that the economy of words and movement served best when being questioned or threatened.

“And you were going to visit this man,” she looked down at a note she’d scrawled on parchment, “this Raffin Hothorp, because… he owed you money, ah?”

Kami thought that perhaps she let the eye on the beautiful side of her face—for that is how she thought of it—twitch briefly. It wasn’t clear that the inspector saw it. “Yes,” she confirmed. “From a visit to the Heron.”

“Okay, dear, that’s fine. And when you got there, you found the jail was the scene of some battle, with everyone there dead, including all the guards. There were also these… creatures. The rats.” She pursed her lips, deepening her dimples. “You didn’t go call for help because you wanted to see if this Raffin man was alive?” Inspector Calenta’s index finger began tapping on her desk absently.

“That’s right.”

“Dangerous business, ah? Well, then more of these creatures attacked you, coming up from the toilets. Six of them, if the Watch sergeant’s estimation is correct. You fled, and the rats’ leader followed you out into the street. So far I got it all as you remember?”

“Exactly,” Kami nodded once again.

“My dear, you are either very brave,” the woman continued tapping her finger on the desk. “Or this man owed you more than just money, ah? Most people would see the blood and run, not go straight into the mess.”

“Yes, well,” Kami said. “I had two armed guards, didn’t I?”

“Mmm,” the inspector mused. “And didn’t die, the way our watchmen did, ah? So either brave and skilled, or very lucky. Your two guards managed to kill all six of the ambushers, plus their big nasty leader?”

“What can I say?” Kami grinned. “I hire good help.”

“Mmm,” Inspector Calenta looked at Maly. “How’re those injuries, my dear? You feeling okay?”

Maly blinked, seemingly surprised to be addressed. Her fingers touched the bandages. “Oh! Uh, fine, ma’am. Just scratches, really.”

“Be sure to watch for infection, ah? Rats carry disease,” the inspector smiled with those round cheeks. “No fever? You feel good?”

Maly grinned back, something Kami realized the woman’s presence invited. She would have been valuable at the Golden Heron, she mused. “I’ll be good as new in no time. I’m fine.”

“Good to hear!” the inspector’s tapping stopped as she clapped her hands together. “Just scratches, Kami, you see? You do hire good help indeed.” The inspector stood, as if coming to some sort of conclusion. “If your bodyguard is okay, you can all accompany me this afternoon somewhere, no?”

“Inspector?” Kami arched an eyebrow.

“Well, dears, the evidence all supports your story. But two new Adventurer’s Guild members with no reputation wiping out an entire squad of feral beats with…” those dimples deepened as she nodded to Maly. “Only scratches? Now this is amazing, ah? So, I want to see something, to test a theory, ah? Please, follow me.”


“How did you bend the bars?” Maly asked her in a low, urgent whisper. “How did you move your body like that? What are you?”

Kami did not answer, keeping her eyes fixed forward beneath her wide-brimmed hat. Economy of words and movements, she thought. This is neither the place nor time for this topic.

“Answer me!” Maly hissed.

“Everything okay, dears?” Inspector Calenta asked loudly over her shoulder. Maly swore under her breath and Kami nodded with a tight smile back to the inspector.

Emah glanced between her and Maly and cleared her throat, frowning. “Where are we going, inspector? And can we get our weapons back soon, please? My sword is my mother’s.”

The woman had led them deeper into the Keep, through largely cramped and winding stone corridors, lit by torchlight and arrow slits. The place was cool, smelling of smoke and dampness. Kami had never been inside the walls of Oakton’s inner keep and it seemed that neither had Emah nor Maly. They quickly found themselves lost, with no sense of how they were proceeding or the place’s layout. At one point they went down a short staircase, only to ascend seemingly twice as far up another one a few minutes later. Kami had the dim sense that they moved roughly clockwise from where they’d entered, but, despite that knowledge, she was sure that she could not have gotten them back to Inspector Calenta’s meeting room if given the chance.  

“Almost there now!” the inspector called over her shoulder happily to Emah. “Just a quick stop and you’ll have your family sword back, dear.”

Shortly thereafter, they came to a heavy door, outside of which stood a gangly, long-necked South Islander youth in the yellow-and-green of Oakton. He looked nervous and sweaty despite the cool temperature within the keep, his throat bobbing when he saw them all. Kami wondered briefly if the act of getting older was feeling that everyone around her was too young for their stations.

“Why hello, Watchman Weegate! Have the others arrived?” the inspector asked with a wide smile and deep dimples.

“Y-yes ma’am,” the young man nodded. “Inside and ready, like you asked.”

“That’s a good boy,” she clapped him on the shoulder. “Here we are then,” she said to Kami and her companions, then opened the door.

Beyond the portal was a large room. Thick, colorful rugs and carpets adorned the stone floor, and in various places stood straw-filled dummies on wooden stands. A few City Watchmen battered the dummies with practice spears and swords whose blades were wrapped in cloth. Others sat or stood scattered around the training room, talking in groups. Many crowded around a true mountain of a man, a Kalee with shaved head and skin as dark as iron. Everyone quieted when the door opened, except one woman who kept battering her dummy mercilessly. Eventually the huge man cleared his throat, stopping the woman and making her cheeks color in embarrassment. A few of the others chuckled.

“Come in, come in,” Inspector Calenta ushered them, smiling. Kami arched her eyebrow again and walked forward. Emah followed, then Maly. After all three had entered, the inspector swung the door shut with an echoing boom!, making Maly jump. Calenta waved her hand. “Well, go on now, get in the middle of the room there. Here dear, I can hold your hat.” One of those meaty hands took Kami’s wide-brimmed hat, almost gently.

Confused, the trio wandered to the middle of the room. The watch members had all stood now, their eyes glued to the three companions. Some smirked, others looked terrified, and still others scowled. In their hands they clutched their spears and swords. Even though the practice weapons were made entirely of wood and padded with cloth, they looked ready to fight. Silence reigned for several heartbeats. Tension permeated the air.

“I… don’t know what’s happening here,” Maly whispered into quiet.

Inspector Calenta cleared her throat. “Alright now, dears. I appreciate everyone making time for this exercise. Kami, Emah, Maly,” she smiled at them from the door. “I was quite impressed by what I heard from the jail, and goodness knows we need some help with everything happening in the city these past weeks. So we’re going to see if you’re up to the task I have in mind, or if your tale is nonsense.”

“See if we’re…?” Emah scowled.

“See if you can fight as well as Miss Misaki’s story claims, of course,” the inspector chuckled, and something glittered in her merry eyes. “The goal is submission. Pannu, are your people ready?”

The large man’s white smile split his face. “We are, yes.” He winked at Kami.

“Okay then, let’s go!” and in one motion she tossed Kami’s hat aside and clapped her hands together.

“Wait, what?!” Maly squeaked.

The room of guards whooped and rushed them.

Next: Age of Wonders Issue 1 Reflections

Age of Wonders, Issue 1a: A Simple Job

[Welcome to my new fantasy-superhero mash-up project! This is the fiction-only version. To see game notes, click here.]

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

Maly pushed her way, panting, into the darkened room. The sudden change from sunlight to candlelight momentarily blinded her as she shut the door. Sounds of cart vendors shouting, street musicians, horses clopping, and laughter immediately hushed to dull muffles. The Golden Heron, with colorful tapestries hanging on the wooden walls, had worked hard to keep its business inside hidden from the bustling street outside.

“Emah? You in here?” Maly asked, breathless.

“You’re late,” her friend answered, her deep voice clipped.

“Ah, yes. About that,” Maly held up a finger. “I need to tell you about–”

“You’re late, Maly,” Emah hissed. “Get over here and. Meet. Our. Host.” Each of those last words was delivered through clenched teeth.

“Oh, but… Right. Sorry,” Maly said sheepishly, still panting. She wiped a forearm across her wet brow and stamped her sandaled feet.

“I’m glad to have you both here,” a supple, smooth voice said. Maly blinked spastically, her pale blue eyes adjusting. Cloth hung from every wall, but otherwise the three of them stood alone in a room only sparsely furnished, with pillows placed neatly around its perimeter. A low desk with quill, parchment, and a slender candle atop it sat near a far wall. Another candle flickered merrily on an ironbound chest in a corner. A few garments hung from pegs peeking between tapestries on the wall. She could see now that her friend had her muscled, bare arms crossed and feet planted wide, pointedly turned away from her and towards their host. Emah was kitted for action, wearing her leather cuirass and gloves, her scabbarded sword hanging from her waist. The warrior’s short, kinky hair was pulled back from her forehead by a leather strap.

Maly still couldn’t make out details, but the third woman was slender and dressed in patterned pants and sleeveless top, with a riot of bracelets and necklaces adorning her. Their host’s long, silken black hair fell across one eye and spilled over one shoulder. Something was odd about her face, but Maly couldn’t tell at first what it was. Everything about her graceful bearing and honeyed voice felt to Maly like a caress in the dim light, which made some sense since they were standing in a brothel that she or Emah could never afford. This room wasn’t the Golden Heron’s primary entrance for clientele, though. Maly had, as instructed, circled around to a side door. She presumed this sparse, elegant room was meant for business only.

Maly tried her best to still her breathing, calm her frantic mind, and focus on what their potential employer was saying. She realized that she had missed the last several moments of conversation between the woman and Emah.

“…so you see, it’s a simple job. One afternoon for you and done.”

“You… just want us to walk with you? Are you expecting trouble?” Emah asked suspiciously.

“No particular trouble, no,” the woman said smoothly, shrugging a bare shoulder. “But you must understand, I am not used to visiting imprisoned criminals. I would feel better having an escort and have the coin to spare.”

“Wait, what are we doing? We’re just going to the jail?” Maly blinked, confused.

“Maly…” Emah growled.

“That’s right, Miss Wywich,” the woman nodded. Maly’s eyes had adjusted, and she could see now that the woman was indeed beautiful, but there was something covering the half of her face that her hair concealed. Beneath the curtain of black hair was a mask, delicately carved with an eye hole and curving around her slim nose and full-lipped mouth. “Walk with me to the jail, stay with me there while I conduct some business, and deliver me safely home.”

“Seems like a pretty easy job,” Maly chuckled.

Emah cleared her throat and shot her a withering stare. “It’s the kind of job new members of the Adventurer’s Guild receive, and we’re happy to do it, ma’am,” she growled.

Maly shrugged back apologetically.

“Excellent,” the woman nodded once. “And please: My name is Kami. I’ll provide half the fee now and half when it’s done. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Emah nodded, and took the small pouch of coins. It clinked in her palm, and Emah tucked it away on a belt pouch.

“When are we leaving?” Maly asked.

“Why, now of course,” and the woman glided past them. Kami plucked a wide, circular hat from a peg, and a long slender walking stick leaning next to it. Then she was pushing out into the sunlight.

Outside, all three of them squinted in the bright light, Emah and Maly shielding their eyes with a hand. This part of Oakton, the Rose District, sat at the broad border between the wealthier merchant quarter and the crime-riddled slums. Modest wooden homes and shops lined the dirt road, with horse-drawn carts and people traveling up and down its length. Everywhere individuals and small groups played music, the constant backdrop of Oakton. Closest to them, a man sat cross-legged and pat a wide, flat drum, humming lyrics with a deep voice while across the street a girl of no more than ten sang full-throated while her two friends danced and banged tambourines.

Though it was in the second half of winter—indeed it was the first day of Nigwan, which in Kalee meant “End,” named for the thaw and last days of winter in the nation’s capital—the weather here, far to the west and north, was mild. Most of Oakton’s residents wore light fabrics and sleeveless shirts.

Above the roofline, the towering Great Oak stood, like a protective mother watching over the town, its branches stretching across the cloudy sky. Kami did not hesitate, walking with purpose down the road, towards the immense tree. Emah strode after her with long strides. Maly scampered to keep up.

“Emah!” the young woman gasped. “I need to tell you about–”

“Not now,” Emah growled. Her brown eyes did not meet Maly’s desperate, freckled face, but instead scanned the road for danger with a serious, furrowed expression. “We’re on a job. The first job, I’ll add, in more than a week. It’s actual coin, that will put food in our mouths. So just tell me later and pay attention now.”

Now it was Maly’s turn to harrumph in frustration. “Fine,” she said, pursing her lips, and she glanced behind them, searching the crowd with pale blue eyes as if expecting someone following.

Emah pointedly ignored her and lengthened her strike to reach Kami’s shoulder. “By the way, ma’am?”

The graceful woman kept her pace, seemingly not at all breathless or bothered. She answered mildly. “Yes?”

“Why are you visiting the jail? What’s your business there?” Emah asked. A thin, knobby street vendor stepped in front of Kami, leering at her, and Emah pushed him, stumbling, out of the way. He swore at them as they passed.

“That,” Kami said dismissively. “Is my own concern. One doesn’t usually ask the business of someone from the Rose District, Miss Elmhill.” And with that she adjusted her wide-brimmed hat and continued down the road, weaving amidst the crowd while her two guards kept pace.

The trio quickly approached Southgate, beyond which lay the town’s garrison, government buildings, and wealthiest residents. The gate itself was a gap wide enough for three carts, in a thick stone curtain wall with squat, ugly towers at regular intervals. A bored city watchman nodded at them as they passed, his half-lidded eyes lingering on Kami’s smooth cheek, lithe arms, and breasts pressed against her form-fitting shirt. Even with the carved mask and low-drawn hat the woman drew attention, and the guard’s hungry gaze was only the most obvious example around them. Maly began to understand the brothel-proprietor’s desire for bodyguards into the inner city and back, and wondered how often she was harassed in some way by guardsmen, sailors, or even merchants. The brief image of the leering street vendor also clicked into her mind. Emah gave her most withering gaze to the gate guard, but the man didn’t seem to notice, his eyes fixed on Kami.

Emah glanced back at Maly, still struggling to keep up with them because of constantly looking behind.

“Maly? Is someone following us?” she asked in a low whisper.

“What? Why would you–? No, no. Of course not!” the young woman chuckled guiltily. Her round, pale face had wideset eyes, freckled cheeks, downturned lips, and a button nose, making her look somewhat like a child from the neck up. Her tattooed, muscled arms and the knife at her belt dispelled the illusion, however. Maly brushed the short, sweat-damped blonde hair from her eyes. “Uh, our employer is getting away.”

“Aargh!” Emah huffed, and she hustled to pursue Kami as the woman made a beeline through the passerbys to a round, stone structure set away from the other buildings and far from the looming keep. Here, so close to the towering Great Oak, everything was in dappled shade. Yellow and brown oak leaves twice as large as an open hand lay scattered across the cobblestone, the leaves as constant in Oakton as the street musicians.

The town’s dungeons, which held those either awaiting execution or detained indefinitely, lay beneath the main keep. Where Kami strode, however, was outside one of several jails within the curtain wall, a place to hold those accused of smaller crimes or to pull drunkards off the street. Emah glanced back at her friend as they approached the heavy wooden door of the building, clearing her throat to get her attention. Maly was still looking behind her, scanning for something. She heard Emah and looked up to her friend and then the jail door. She grimaced.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Emah whispered back. For the first time since Maly had arrived late, Emah’s voice held no anger.

“It’s fine,” Maly shrugged, but her lips were a grim line. “I mean, I didn’t stay here that long.”

Kami had stopped, motionless, before the door. As Emah and Maly flanked her, the woman seemed to shake herself out of some sort of reverie, as if she’d been lost in thought.

“We are here,” she said simply.

“Are we… going inside?” Maly asked.

Kami seemed to gather herself and nodded once, sharply. “We are. You may stay outside if you wish.” She reached out and knocked on the door, first lightly, and then more forcefully when no one answered.

Maly arched an eyebrow, impressed at the slim woman’s strength. The heavy door thrummed with her booming knocks.

No one answered.

“That seems odd, doesn’t it?” Maly offered, hesitantly.

The three looked at each other, unsure what to do, then Emah and Maly scanned the surroundings. The jail stood away from any foot traffic, and no one seemed particularly interested in watching them at its entrance. They exchanged confused glances.

Kami pursed her lips and clutched the latch. With a sharp push of her shoulder, the door shuddered and flew open.

Inside was carnage.

Maly knew the layout of this jailhouse intimately. The entry room took up roughly half of the circular level, used for the intake of prisoners. Two city watch members were stationed here at all hours, usually complaining about their boring assignment and playing dice or cards. Behind the desk and chairs stood iron bars and a heavy door, behind which were cubbies with prisoners’ belongings, city watch logs, and a winding staircase down to the lower level. The entire jail was windowless, with torches burning day and night to both light it and make the place smell of oil and smoke.

Today, the heavy door at the back of the room hung open, the table and chairs toppled. Two bodies, a man and woman in the city watch’s yellow and green livery, lay sprawled on the floor, their forms ravaged by what looked like an animal attack, or perhaps several animals. Dark blood spattered the walls and ceiling, and pooled in wide, sticky blobs around the bodies. Small prints like that from a cat or dog tracked through the blood and seemed everywhere across the wooden floor.

One guard’s corpse clutched a long spear, which impaled something brown and furred, also dead and curled around the weapon’s tip. That body drew the eye because it was vaguely humanoid, the size of a child, one four-fingered, clawed hand outstretched as if in a plea for mercy. It wore filthy rags that could barely be called clothing, hanging in tatters from its small form. They couldn’t see the thing’s face from here, but its furred head was topped by small, flared ears.

“By the gods,” Emah breathed. “What happened here? We… we should get the Watch. Maly, go get help.”

“No!” Kami barked, thrusting a hand outward, palm facing them.

“What?” Maly blinked, her breath coming short and shallow. The smell in here wasn’t the typical oil and smoke—it was like iron and sewage, making her eyes water and jaw clench. “We need to tell–”

“No, dammit all! Shut the door and follow me.” Kami dropped her walking staff and threw off her hat, tiptoeing her way through the bodies and blood towards the open door. While the other two women gaped, she stepped across the threshold and peered down the staircase.

Emah was squinting at the furred form at the end of the spear, frowning. Maly stepped close to her, eyes wide.

“I’ve paid you to escort me,” Kami said, her face serious. “Come on.” She descended the stairs.

“What- what do we do, Emah?” Maly whispered urgently.

“I don’t…” Emah shook her head. “Aargh. We follow. Come on. Weapons out.”

Emah Elmhill was not particularly tall, but she had the physique of a well-trained fighter. With a gloved hand she reached to her waist, to a leather scabbard from which decorative tassels hung. The scraping sound of steel across the metal collar filled the room as Emah drew her sword. She held the wide blade out in front of her, other hand clenched in a fist.

“Let’s go,” she huffed, and stepped her way through the massacre at her feet to follow Kami.

Maly fumbled at her belt sheath for her dagger, thin blade as long as her forearm. She stole another glance at the furred creature curled around the spear, unlike anything she had ever seen. When she realized that Emah was already descending the stairs, Maly shook her head and lightly padded forward to catch up.

A second furred body lay halfway down the spiral staircase, this one on its back. Once again it wore tattered, filthy strips of cloth, and one side of its small torso was stained in blood from a wound, most likely a spear thrust from one of the guards. Its head was like that of a large rat, with black beady eyes, long whiskers on a nose hairless at the tip of the snout. Its mouth was gaping wide in death, showing sharp, yellowed teeth at the front of its mouth. One of its four-fingered, clawed hands held a sharpened stick.

“By the light of the sun,” she gasped, her steps faltering.

“No! Blast you, no!” Kami’s voice echoed from below, immediately followed by Emah’s shout.

“Maly! Get down here!”

Wide-eyed, she dashed down the curved staircase.

The bottom floor of the jail was simple in its design. The staircase led to a square area with a guard post at its center. Arrayed around the post were four cramped cells, each with iron bars and containing only a straw pallet, a wooden bucket of water, and a grated hole leading to a common cesspit below. The walls and floor were roughly-cut stone, making the place just cold and damp enough to be constantly uncomfortable. Maly knew this place well from her weeks living here. She hated it and everything it represented.

Today, however, there was no guard posted at the center. No living one, anyway. Another green-and-yellow clad city watch member lay on his back, fat belly torn open and spilling intestines across his legs, his lifeless eyes wide and terrified in the torchlight. Two prisoners also lay dead and ravaged in their cells, bitten and torn by what looked like small claws and teeth. As above, the stench of blood and waste permeated the place.

Kami stood, fists clenched tightly, looking down at one of the corpses in the cells. It was a man, pale-skinned from the Stone Isles, with blonde hair like Maly’s. He was tall, with wiry arms and a long neck, and seemed to be of middling years. His gray clothes had been torn, especially around his chest and shoulders, which were a bloody mess of gore. Kami stared at the man’s face, her unmasked cheek wet with tears.

“Ma’am,” Emah said huskily, holding back vomit. “We have to go. We have to get help. Whatever these things are… we need to tell someone.”

Kami continued to stare at the corpse lying between her and the iron bars. Emah and Maly watched her, willing her to respond.

As a result, none of them saw the furred, rag-robed figures climbing out of the cesspool hole in the floor of an open cell, one by one, their small eyes glowing in the torchlight like rounded flint, until it was too late. Chittering, the rat-figures scampered into the hallway and attacked.

Age of Wonders: Issue 1b

Age of Wonders, Issue 1a: A Simple Job [with game notes]

Welcome to the Age of Wonders, my current solo play and fiction project! To get you oriented, these shaded text boxes are for game notes, which will be absent from the fiction-only posts (for today, that would be here).

I’m playing the Crusaders rpg but, to begin today’s adventure, I rolled on the excellent Random Adventure Seeds in the Mighty Protectors core rulebook. I’m truly letting this homebrewed adventure emerge from the dice and am giving into the randomness. Percentile rolls in parentheses.

Step 1: What’s going on? (74) Invasion/rebellion.

Step 2: What’s the status? (04) Cold case – it happened some time ago.

Step 3: How do the PCs find out about it? (50) Via investigation – either the PCs or a third party.

Step 4: Final details. Perpetrator: (65) Enemy aliens. Victim: (08) Criminals. Location: (46) Prison.

I’ve already decided that Kami, one of our three protagonists, will be hiring Emah and Maly as a way of forming our party of adventurers. So now I just need to combine the above rolls into that story. Here we go…

art by Roland Brown (drawhaus.com)

Maly pushed her way, panting, into the darkened room. The sudden change from sunlight to candlelight momentarily blinded her as she shut the door. Sounds of cart vendors shouting, street musicians, horses clopping, and laughter immediately hushed to dull muffles. The Golden Heron, with colorful tapestries hanging on the wooden walls, had worked hard to keep its business inside hidden from the bustling street outside.

“Emah? You in here?” Maly asked, breathless.

“You’re late,” her friend answered, her deep voice clipped.

“Ah, yes. About that,” Maly held up a finger. “I need to tell you about–”

“You’re late, Maly,” Emah hissed. “Get over here and. Meet. Our. Host.” Each of those last words was delivered through clenched teeth.

“Oh, but… Right. Sorry,” Maly said sheepishly, still panting. She wiped a forearm across her wet brow and stamped her sandaled feet.

“I’m glad to have you both here,” a supple, smooth voice said. Maly blinked spastically, her pale blue eyes adjusting. Cloth hung from every wall, but otherwise the three of them stood alone in a room only sparsely furnished, with pillows placed neatly around its perimeter. A low desk with quill, parchment, and a slender candle atop it sat near a far wall. Another candle flickered merrily on an ironbound chest in a corner. A few garments hung from pegs peeking between tapestries on the wall. She could see now that her friend had her muscled, bare arms crossed and feet planted wide, pointedly turned away from her and towards their host. Emah was kitted for action, wearing her leather cuirass and gloves, her scabbarded sword hanging from her waist. The warrior’s short, kinky hair was pulled back from her forehead by a leather strap.

Maly still couldn’t make out details, but the third woman was slender and dressed in patterned pants and sleeveless top, with a riot of bracelets and necklaces adorning her. Their host’s long, silken black hair fell across one eye and spilled over one shoulder. Something was odd about her face, but Maly couldn’t tell at first what it was. Everything about her graceful bearing and honeyed voice felt to Maly like a caress in the dim light, which made some sense since they were standing in a brothel that she or Emah could never afford. This room wasn’t the Golden Heron’s primary entrance for clientele, though. Maly had, as instructed, circled around to a side door. She presumed this sparse, elegant room was meant for business only.

Maly tried her best to still her breathing, calm her frantic mind, and focus on what their potential employer was saying. She realized that she had missed the last several moments of conversation between the woman and Emah.

“…so you see, it’s a simple job. One afternoon for you and done.”

“You… just want us to walk with you? Are you expecting trouble?” Emah asked suspiciously.

“No particular trouble, no,” the woman said smoothly, shrugging a bare shoulder. “But you must understand, I am not used to visiting imprisoned criminals. I would feel better having an escort and have the coin to spare.”

“Wait, what are we doing? We’re just going to the jail?” Maly blinked, confused.

“Maly…” Emah growled.

“That’s right, Miss Wywich,” the woman nodded. Maly’s eyes had adjusted, and she could see now that the woman was indeed beautiful, but there was something covering the half of her face that her hair concealed. Beneath the curtain of black hair was a mask, delicately carved with an eye hole and curving around her slim nose and full-lipped mouth. “Walk with me to the jail, stay with me there while I conduct some business, and deliver me safely home.”

“Seems like a pretty easy job,” Maly chuckled.

Emah cleared her throat and shot her a withering stare. “It’s the kind of job new members of the Adventurer’s Guild receive, and we’re happy to do it, ma’am,” she growled.

Maly shrugged back apologetically.

“Excellent,” the woman nodded once. “And please: My name is Kami. I’ll provide half the fee now and half when it’s done. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Emah nodded, and took the small pouch of coins. It clinked in her palm, and Emah tucked it away on a belt pouch.

“When are we leaving?” Maly asked.

“Why, now of course,” and the woman glided past them. Kami plucked a wide, circular hat from a peg, and a long slender walking stick leaning next to it. Then she was pushing out into the sunlight.

Outside, all three of them squinted in the bright light, Emah and Maly shielding their eyes with a hand. This part of Oakton, the Rose District, sat at the broad border between the wealthier merchant quarter and the crime-riddled slums. Modest wooden homes and shops lined the dirt road, with horse-drawn carts and people traveling up and down its length. Everywhere individuals and small groups played music, the constant backdrop of Oakton. Closest to them, a man sat cross-legged and pat a wide, flat drum, humming lyrics with a deep voice while across the street a girl of no more than ten sang full-throated while her two friends danced and banged tambourines.

Though it was in the second half of winter—indeed it was the first day of Nigwan, which in Kalee meant “End,” named for the thaw and last days of winter in the nation’s capital—the weather here, far to the west and north, was mild. Most of Oakton’s residents wore light fabrics and sleeveless shirts.

Above the roofline, the towering Great Oak stood, like a protective mother watching over the town, its branches stretching across the cloudy sky. Kami did not hesitate, walking with purpose down the road, towards the immense tree. Emah strode after her with long strides. Maly scampered to keep up.

“Emah!” the young woman gasped. “I need to tell you about–”

“Not now,” Emah growled. Her brown eyes did not meet Maly’s desperate, freckled face, but instead scanned the road for danger with a serious, furrowed expression. “We’re on a job. The first job, I’ll add, in more than a week. It’s actual coin, that will put food in our mouths. So just tell me later and pay attention now.”

Now it was Maly’s turn to harrumph in frustration. “Fine,” she said, pursing her lips, and she glanced behind them, searching the crowd with pale blue eyes as if expecting someone following.

Emah pointedly ignored her and lengthened her strike to reach Kami’s shoulder. “By the way, ma’am?”

The graceful woman kept her pace, seemingly not at all breathless or bothered. She answered mildly. “Yes?”

“Why are you visiting the jail? What’s your business there?” Emah asked. A thin, knobby street vendor stepped in front of Kami, leering at her, and Emah pushed him, stumbling, out of the way. He swore at them as they passed.

“That,” Kami said dismissively. “Is my own concern. One doesn’t usually ask the business of someone from the Rose District, Miss Elmhill.” And with that she adjusted her wide-brimmed hat and continued down the road, weaving amidst the crowd while her two guards kept pace.

The trio quickly approached Southgate, beyond which lay the town’s garrison, government buildings, and wealthiest residents. The gate itself was a gap wide enough for three carts, in a thick stone curtain wall with squat, ugly towers at regular intervals. A bored city watchman nodded at them as they passed, his half-lidded eyes lingering on Kami’s smooth cheek, lithe arms, and breasts pressed against her form-fitting shirt. Even with the carved mask and low-drawn hat the woman drew attention, and the guard’s hungry gaze was only the most obvious example around them. Maly began to understand the brothel-proprietor’s desire for bodyguards into the inner city and back, and wondered how often she was harassed in some way by guardsmen, sailors, or even merchants. The brief image of the leering street vendor also clicked into her mind. Emah gave her most withering gaze to the gate guard, but the man didn’t seem to notice, his eyes fixed on Kami.

Emah glanced back at Maly, still struggling to keep up with them because of constantly looking behind.

“Maly? Is someone following us?” she asked in a low whisper.

“What? Why would you–? No, no. Of course not!” the young woman chuckled guiltily. Her round, pale face had wideset eyes, freckled cheeks, downturned lips, and a button nose, making her look somewhat like a child from the neck up. Her tattooed, muscled arms and the knife at her belt dispelled the illusion, however. Maly brushed the short, sweat-damped blonde hair from her eyes. “Uh, our employer is getting away.”

“Aargh!” Emah huffed, and she hustled to pursue Kami as the woman made a beeline through the passerbys to a round, stone structure set away from the other buildings and far from the looming keep. Here, so close to the towering Great Oak, everything was in dappled shade. Yellow and brown oak leaves twice as large as an open hand lay scattered across the cobblestone, the leaves as constant in Oakton as the street musicians.

The town’s dungeons, which held those either awaiting execution or detained indefinitely, lay beneath the main keep. Where Kami strode, however, was outside one of several jails within the curtain wall, a place to hold those accused of smaller crimes or to pull drunkards off the street. Emah glanced back at her friend as they approached the heavy wooden door of the building, clearing her throat to get her attention. Maly was still looking behind her, scanning for something. She heard Emah and looked up to her friend and then the jail door. She grimaced.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Emah whispered back. For the first time since Maly had arrived late, Emah’s voice held no anger.

“It’s fine,” Maly shrugged, but her lips were a grim line. “I mean, I didn’t stay here that long.”

Kami had stopped, motionless, before the door. As Emah and Maly flanked her, the woman seemed to shake herself out of some sort of reverie, as if she’d been lost in thought.

“We are here,” she said simply.

“Are we… going inside?” Maly asked.

Kami seemed to gather herself and nodded once, sharply. “We are. You may stay outside if you wish.” She reached out and knocked on the door, first lightly, and then more forcefully when no one answered.

Maly arched an eyebrow, impressed at the slim woman’s strength. The heavy door thrummed with her booming knocks.

No one answered.

“That seems odd, doesn’t it?” Maly offered, hesitantly.

The three looked at each other, unsure what to do, then Emah and Maly scanned the surroundings. The jail stood away from any foot traffic, and no one seemed particularly interested in watching them at its entrance. They exchanged confused glances.

Kami pursed her lips and clutched the latch. With a sharp push of her shoulder, the door shuddered and flew open.

Inside was carnage.

Maly knew the layout of this jailhouse intimately. The entry room took up roughly half of the circular level, used for the intake of prisoners. Two city watch members were stationed here at all hours, usually complaining about their boring assignment and playing dice or cards. Behind the desk and chairs stood iron bars and a heavy door, behind which were cubbies with prisoners’ belongings, city watch logs, and a winding staircase down to the lower level. The entire jail was windowless, with torches burning day and night to both light it and make the place smell of oil and smoke.

Today, the heavy door at the back of the room hung open, the table and chairs toppled. Two bodies, a man and woman in the city watch’s yellow and green livery, lay sprawled on the floor, their forms ravaged by what looked like an animal attack, or perhaps several animals. Dark blood spattered the walls and ceiling, and pooled in wide, sticky blobs around the bodies. Small prints like that from a cat or dog tracked through the blood and seemed everywhere across the wooden floor.

One guard’s corpse clutched a long spear, which impaled something brown and furred, also dead and curled around the weapon’s tip. That body drew the eye because it was vaguely humanoid, the size of a child, one four-fingered, clawed hand outstretched as if in a plea for mercy. It wore filthy rags that could barely be called clothing, hanging in tatters from its small form. They couldn’t see the thing’s face from here, but its furred head was topped by small, flared ears.

“By the gods,” Emah breathed. “What happened here? We… we should get the Watch. Maly, go get help.”

“No!” Kami barked, thrusting a hand outward, palm facing them.

“What?” Maly blinked, her breath coming short and shallow. The smell in here wasn’t the typical oil and smoke—it was like iron and sewage, making her eyes water and jaw clench. “We need to tell–”

“No, dammit all! Shut the door and follow me.” Kami dropped her walking staff and threw off her hat, tiptoeing her way through the bodies and blood towards the open door. While the other two women gaped, she stepped across the threshold and peered down the staircase.

Emah was squinting at the furred form at the end of the spear, frowning. Maly stepped close to her, eyes wide.

“I’ve paid you to escort me,” Kami said, her face serious. “Come on.” She descended the stairs.

“What- what do we do, Emah?” Maly whispered urgently.

“I don’t…” Emah shook her head. “Aargh. We follow. Come on. Weapons out.”

Emah Elmhill was not particularly tall, but she had the physique of a well-trained fighter. With a gloved hand she reached to her waist, to a leather scabbard from which decorative tassels hung. The scraping sound of steel across the metal collar filled the room as Emah drew her sword. She held the wide blade out in front of her, other hand clenched in a fist.

“Let’s go,” she huffed, and stepped her way through the massacre at her feet to follow Kami.

Maly fumbled at her belt sheath for her dagger, thin blade as long as her forearm. She stole another glance at the furred creature curled around the spear, unlike anything she had ever seen. When she realized that Emah was already descending the stairs, Maly shook her head and lightly padded forward to catch up.

A second furred body lay halfway down the spiral staircase, this one on its back. Once again it wore tattered, filthy strips of cloth, and one side of its small torso was stained in blood from a wound, most likely a spear thrust from one of the guards. Its head was like that of a large rat, with black beady eyes, long whiskers on a nose hairless at the tip of the snout. Its mouth was gaping wide in death, showing sharp, yellowed teeth at the front of its mouth. One of its four-fingered, clawed hands held a sharpened stick.

“By the light of the sun,” she gasped, her steps faltering.

“No! Blast you, no!” Kami’s voice echoed from below, immediately followed by Emah’s shout.

“Maly! Get down here!”

Wide-eyed, she dashed down the curved staircase.

The bottom floor of the jail was simple in its design. The staircase led to a square area with a guard post at its center. Arrayed around the post were four cramped cells, each with iron bars and containing only a straw pallet, a wooden bucket of water, and a grated hole leading to a common cesspit below. The walls and floor were roughly-cut stone, making the place just cold and damp enough to be constantly uncomfortable. Maly knew this place well from her weeks living here. She hated it and everything it represented.

Today, however, there was no guard posted at the center. No living one, anyway. Another green-and-yellow clad city watch member lay on his back, fat belly torn open and spilling intestines across his legs, his lifeless eyes wide and terrified in the torchlight. Two prisoners also lay dead and ravaged in their cells, bitten and torn by what looked like small claws and teeth. As above, the stench of blood and waste permeated the place.

Kami stood, fists clenched tightly, looking down at one of the corpses in the cells. It was a man, pale-skinned from the Stone Isles, with blonde hair like Maly’s. He was tall, with wiry arms and a long neck, and seemed to be of middling years. His gray clothes had been torn, especially around his chest and shoulders, which were a bloody mess of gore. Kami stared at the man’s face, her unmasked cheek wet with tears.

“Ma’am,” Emah said huskily, holding back vomit. “We have to go. We have to get help. Whatever these things are… we need to tell someone.”

Kami continued to stare at the corpse lying between her and the iron bars. Emah and Maly watched her, willing her to respond.

As a result, none of them saw the furred, rag-robed figures climbing out of the cesspool hole in the floor of an open cell, one by one, their small eyes glowing in the torchlight like rounded flint, until it was too late. Chittering, the rat-figures scampered into the hallway and attacked.

Well dang… no rolling of dice or combat today, but there’s no avoiding it next time. I’m excited to take the Crusaders light and fast combat mechanics for a spin!

Age of Wonders: Issue 1b