After noon on May Eve, you gather at the Fairweather Inn in Pineford Village, though the weather is anything but fair. Cold rain falls in sheets, as it had all through the night and the day before, drenching travelers and washing out already treacherous mountain paths with freshets of mud. The mood in the inn is as somber as the gray sky: many are stranded away from home when they least want to be; some have lost valuable cargo; but the topic most locals keep returning to in a whisper is the bone-fires. You passed many on your way here, huge mounds of mammoth ivories and elk antlers, the rib cages and pelvises of brontotheres ringing the column-like leg bones of diplodocids. The deluge will not permit their lighting this year, not without the Magus Bellator’s secret word to kindle them. Everyone seems to know what this implies, but none will volunteer it.
You are in a corner, huddled around one of the common area’s two potbelly stoves, your sodden boots and jackets drying at its base. Burning anthracite glows orange through the grates, a fitful bit of extra light to read by far away from the light of the central candelabra. A kettle of hot water is whistling on the flat top of the stove, along with a couple of picked-over cast iron skillets that had recently held your dinner of eggs and llama steak…
As related elsewhere, I am running a Rifts campaign using OSR rules. Seven players had the option of either rolling up two 1st level characters or rolling up one 1st level and blindly selecting one unusual pre-gen that I created. The 1st level characters could be made from the full list of published Old School Essentials classes, or from the Adventurer, Conqueror, King supplement “By This Axe: The Cyclopedia of Dwarven Civilization.” They were given no other details.
All but one player selected one of the pregens, the other rolled up two Dwarves from By This Axe, a Pugilist and a Fury. The other 1st level characters were a Beastmaster, an Arcane Bard, a Druid, a Paladin, a Cleric, and a Mycelian (mushroom man).
The pregens were:
2nd level Vlandish Astromarine with light powered armor from Colonial Troopers.
5th level Thongorim fighting man with Inth-metal wings and Irridium weaponry from Warriors of the Red Planet.
2nd level Wilderness Scout, adapted from Rifts and according to Graphite Prime’s suggestions.
3rd level Mangani (ape men from Tarzan) Old Blood Mechanic technopath with a Mountaineer ATV.
2nd level Cynocephali Superagent with a bionic ear and adaptive camouflage armor from Guardians.
4th level Elvish Geomancer, a trimmed down adaptation of the Rifts Ley Liine Walker.
No one has earned an alignment as yet.
Implications of Factional Alignment
In my previous post about RPG alignments, I suggested that the concept was better understood as answering the question, “Whose side are you on?” rather than “How do you behave?” Alignments are not merely ethical axes which amount to a constant source of friction and confusion at the table, particularly in the postmodern, post-Christian west where player…
Each of these, except for the Geomancer, was given a short description of the world they used to inhabit it and the last thing they remembered before winding up here, wherever here happens to be. The Geomancer was a native of this pocket dimension. Several hints were dropped about the nature of this pocket dimension, but more would need to be revealed in the course of their adventures.
After the introduction, each of the players was asked to add one detail to the scene and then say how they knew one other of the characters.
After that, the storm worsened and a loud crash heralded the collapse of the stone bridge in the flood torrent. An ugly but obviously wealthy Gnomish character (or a Knacker as locals called them) named Klostice, the travelling representative of the Weaver’s Guild, had only narrowly crossed it in time. He came in to dry himself off, thanking the god of shepherds for his good luck.
“Hastur bless me! Just stepped off that old bridge not half a heartbeat as the first span went down! He stays the wolves of the night, the Good One does, and blesses his flock -- and their wool! Well! I hope that milk-skinned, jelly-eyed, black-blooded whore chokes on those timbers, and takes a fat iron spike in her tongue!”
After some questioning, Klostice names the unnameable fears of the locals, explaining how the assassination of Miles Turchin, the Magus Bellator (a war wizard), meant that the bonfires could not be lit in the supernatural rainstorm, and that this meant there was nothing to stop the fey servants of the May Queen — the milk-skinned, jelly-eyed, black-blooded whore he spoke of— from coming up out of the Great Hedge and claiming more subjects. Klostice told the story of how one of their own villages, Thornhold, would offer the tribute of their young folk this year, in return for a year of agricultural bounty and protection from the Thing from the Hedge. Since there was no help coming from Lord Bewley, thought lost over the mountains in his war against the monster-riding Simvan, there was probably no hope for the folk on this side of the mountain. The Great Hedge would keep growing, until the valley was cut off and all of their profitable trade in llama wool was cut off! Not to mention the sort of problems that ring more serious to those outside the Weaver’s Guild.
Klostice, seeing that they were not from these parts, wondered if they were treasure hunters waiting for May Day, when treasures secreted in caves and holes were revealed for the taking, or if, perhaps, they were here to do something about the May Queen.
Whether the players were bored or confused with my world-building, or simply eager to try out their high level abilities, the group asked no questions and attempted no intelligence gathering on their foes, and decided to head right to Thornhold to interfere with the May Day festivities.
The problem: Thornhold is about 20 miles away, as the crow flies, over very difficult mountainous, heavily forested terrain, cut only by poor dirt paths, most of which are going to be impassable in the rain. They would be unlikely to get there by tomorrow morning, even in the Mountaineer ATV, which couldn’t hold the whole group.
Zyrriel, the Thongorim fighting man, says he doesn’t mind flying there even in the rain, and can act as a scout. Sirius, the Vlandish space marine, has an unarmed recon drone that can cover the distance quickly and plot their course while looking for enemies. Umbloke, aka ‘Luke’ the Elven Geomancer, is reminded that he can teleport along ley lines, though he must first see if he can find one, and see where it leads. With a map from Klostice, he thinks he can identify a pattern of settlement and landamarks suggestive of ley lines, and he heads out into the rain with Bucario (the dogman cyberagent), Ivy (the local druid), Procellus (the native paladin), and Milo (the Mangani mechanic) to survey it. Presently, they are joined by the Dwarf brothers, Ewal and Dewal and their trained bear. They have nothing to offer the survey effort, but they can at least conspire about how to kill Stank-Clank the Mycelian and use him for mushroom beer.
The leyline is found, but an attempt to astrally survey the line, its landmarks, and its terminus fails. There is too much interference, perhaps from the magically summoned storm.
And that is where session 1 ended.
Although more than half of the group didn’t show up for Sesssion 2, we forged ahead in our Rifts campaign. While the PC’s dithered about whether and how to attempt the journey to Thornhold, the May Queen’s mummers came a-marching up the road, demanding that the village of Pineford ‘join the festivities’ on the morrow by submitting their young men and maidens for her selection.
Of the adventurers, only those who went to survey the ley lines are in attendance, a few hundred yards away from the inn at the foot of a forested hill. This is the first glimpse they’ve gotten of the May Queen’s Greenguard. “Like fools they were in motley, all jangling and absurd” as Chesterton might say, clad in bright green robes with yellow trim, their faces covered in peaked cowls, like if Irishmen were welcome in the Ku Klux Klan. Some beat snare drums, while others played the fife or tambourine, while most carried heavy clubs of knotted oak, poignards, and torches that had a greenish hue and were oddly unaffected by the rain. Several had wheellock pistols at their waist or held blunderbusses over their shoulder. The party counted 30 of these dreadful mummers, lead by a bandsman with a long sword mounted on a white horse. Following in the train were four Greenguard bearing a large wooden crate on a litter, followed close behind by a huge monster in chains, a Giant Short-Faced Bear, swatting at the air and snarling in tune with the music. It was a gay sight for all the menace they represented.
All of the characters except for Procellus and Bucario held back as the Greenguard started banging on doors, dragging out anyone foolish enough to answer and driving them along at the point of their swords so they could listen to the proclamation from the May Queen. The dogman took cover in the shadow of the guild hall, letting his adaptive camouflage carapace turn him nearly invisible, while Procellus worked straight for the Bandleader.
The Paladin crept along the cover of the road side and insinuated himself in the parade, then waited for the Bandleader to dismount in front of the Fairweather Inn and read his proclamation that Pineford now belonged to the May Queen. Immediately after he finished, Procellus threw off his cloak, revealing himself a warrior of the God of Hosts, kicking off what was certainly the most amusing moment of the session.
The Greenguard were caught by surprise. Procellus attacked, rolling a natural 1. His sword was stuck in his scabbard.
“It’s the rain,” laughed the Bandleader. “Sometimes it makes the blade stick!” I also rolled a natural 1, and the when the Bandleader stepped in for the kill, he slipped in the mud, savagely pulling his groin and toppling over. Bucario’s explosive Irridum pistol rang out, missing the Greenguard but exploding part of a stone wall across the lane. Villagers of Pineford threw rocks and rotting vegetables at the mummers, who retaliated by running up to the homes and the Guild hall to smash windows with their clubs and light the eaves on fire. The mummers carrying the litter dropped it, trying to avoid pot shots from afar, releasing a hive of angry honey bees. The Giant Short Faced Bear was loosed, while Ewal and Dewal loosed their own pet grizzly. Milo drove the Mountaineer down the hillside, aiming to scatter the throng of mummers, but lost control and plowed into the side of the guild hall. The Greenguard blasted with their pistols and blunderbusses, but all missed, and now tried to desperately put distance between themselves and the charging bears and dwarves as they reloaded.
Intermission: Want some more Rifts content?
Rifts OSR: Rogue Scholar
The Rogue Scholar is another of the original Rifts O.C.C.s that I barely looked at over the years, overshadowed by flashier classes like the Juicer, Crazy, Glitter Boy, and Cyberknight. Its description takes up only about one full page. While gloriously brief compared to many other O.C.C.s that would come out in the World Books, I think it understates t…
Surprise! It's Rifts!
Two years ago I tried to ‘convert Rifts’ to Old School Essentials by literally going through the books, O.C.C. by O.C.C. But this way lies madness, for although Palladium’s various RPGs — unfairly maligned by 5E/Pathfinder pussies, pretentious game theorists, and weakling Vampire players — are actually very fun to play, all the criticisms about their in…
The fracas continued for several turns. Things looked bad for the PCs, as Procellus the Paladin was laid low with one shot, Dewal, Ewal, Ivy, and the Grizzly were maimed unto death or unconsciousnes by the Short Faced Bear, though the Bandleader and three mummers were also killed. Ivy’s death was a case of trying to be too creative, as she tried to lure the bear away with some meat and honey to distract him, but he ended up being more interested in the meat and honey in her skin.
The sudden emergence of Sirius, his rail-gun blasting apart two Greenguard with one shot, and Zyriel who leapt into the melee, using his Defender power to hold five opponents at bay (but without being able to attack), turned the tide. This vulgar display of power sent the remaining Greenguard to rout (they failed their morale test). Bucario and Zyriel put the Short-Faced Bear down for good.
Bucario made attempts to restore the fallen with the aid of Sirius’s ultratech medical kit and, rolling a Natural 20 twice, managed to resuscitate Procellus and even the grizzly bear. Now styling himself Dr. Bucario, he went on to work his magic on the others. Ewal, who was at exactly 0 HP, made his save against death and was taken inside, a long struggle for survival to come. Dewal, whose special ability kept him from death unless his HP reached the negative value of his starting health, was merely comatose. Ivy was at -4 HP and failed her save against death and so gave up the ghost.
The survivors got about 100 XP each for the enemies they killed and the looting of their treasure chest (packed alongside the bee hives) revealed quite a handsome sum (my rolling on the treasure table A was some of the highest rolling I did all night!), giving each of the participants over 1500 XP, not counting many thousands of XP in gems and jewelry that might yet be converted. Bucario and the two dwarves each went up a level (to 3 and 2, resepctively).
With one dead and three too severely wounded to continue on, the group is down by almost a third. Also of some concern, they expended some irreplaceable ultratech ammunition and medicine. How badly damaged the Mountaineer ATV is remains to be determined. Perhaps worst of all they have revealed their presence to the May Queen.
The rain falls harder and the night of Walpurga draws nigh.
>half the group didn’t show up for session 2
Worse than a kick to the nuts I tell ya
The dwarf brothers yearn for the mushroom beer!!!