For me, it had always been easy to sleep in a car. The back seat was a favorite place to curl up as a kid. Then on family trips, I would crash out and like magic we were there. No need to hurry on my account, 3 hours, 10, hell it could last all day. It was just a blink of the eye. Driving or not. That hum, that screech, that thumping… whatever it was that screamed C A R, spelled sleep to me.

People talk about being tired. They say how they barely got moving or that they’re “dragging ass” but in reality they are just complaining to be heard. Now, when someone is really under the pressure of fatigue, now that is a sight to behold. You go to move, you will your body into motion and nothing or worse, you feel like you have moved only to realize that your body has betrayed you. Eventually, even your will tires of the battle and you would just as soon piss yourself as move to the bathroom, the effort of getting out the chair is enough to wear thin ones patience with the world, and answering the phone, to actually interact with another human being on a meaningful and productive level a soul shattering endeavor. Then there is the breaking point, that moment when you have crossed the threshold of tired, you have endured being truly fatigued, and you just snap. It’s that point when you have driven out into the highway and you think with perfect clarity that it would be ok, hell its better then ok, it’s a great idea to lower the seat back and just let yourself slip off, for just a moment and then you’ll be OK to keep going. After all, you have driven this road a thousand times; you could do it with your eyes closed.

That brings me here. Technically, I was brought here by someone else. Someone with enough will to compel both our bodies into motion… at least for now; I am sure that in time even her love will wear down and that sparkling, loving force of nature that propels her, that animation of body and soul that she shares with me will wither away. So we sit. We wait. That’s what waiting rooms are for. This waiting room held that same dull luminous quality that all hospitals have, old magazines and the smell of disinfectant trying desperately to cover up the rot. Pretty much the same as everywhere I guess. The study was supposed to get me to sleep through the night, but so far they only had succeeded at boring me to exhaustion… well to further exhaustion at any rate. The magazine I had picked up was something about machines or psychology or something like that, it was something that used to interest me, but it’s hard to be interested in the world when you only to get to see through one eye and the haze of non-sleep.

The doctor had come out and was saying something, that’s when her fingers dug onto my hand. It was cold and vice like. I looked at her and she was just gone, that spark had fled in terror. Her eyes were empty, doll-like and shifting down refusing to look up. He was walking into the sleep studies office. He was here. There is always that person wronged you or someone you love, but then there are those people that wrong the world and wonder why everyone turns their backs on them. That was him. And every time he used up one person there was always someone lined up to see how hurt he was, how badly it was not his fault, that life had dealt him such a blow, that if only someone would care for him and love him just enough, he could be a good person. The years had been kind to him, far kinder then I would have hoped for. He was tired of course. He had look of the defeated to him. He had not been sleeping well…  and then he was gone. Her hand relaxed. She said nothing, but she would not look me in the eyes. She was hoping that I had not noticed. I had stopped noticing a lot of things when I had stopped sleeping. Not this, never this.

The doctor came out and called a name. I was staring at the doorway behind him lost in the thought of this man, this pig dressed up and pretending to be a man, I hadn’t heard my name. She was still looking down when I rose and started to walk towards the door. The doctors face took over my vision., He was smiling and his breath held day old coffee between his teeth, he told me to come with him, that we would find out what was at the root of my troubles…. They were sitting the other room, I just walked by.

My mind was racing, here I was with the man that caused me so much pain. Like me, he sat there in a white room with silly little wires attached to his head. We were separated by five feet of empty space, maybe a foot and half of plaster, 2-bys, and cheap paint and it may as well been around the world. The doctor asked his banal questions and I answered them from rote, he handed me the pills and I was already dreaming red, seeing every torture I had ever thought of played out with him as my canvas… a masterpiece of sinew and splattered blood… but I was just dreaming. Once again my body betrayed me, still and limp, I watched it lie there with all those machines. For a heartbeat I waited. I saw myself. Lying there asleep, the machines beeped and whirred and the scratching of paper continued on… but, I could see myself sleeping there…

Looking at the wall, I willed to move, but I hovered there looking down and then at the wall again. Over and over again, I shifted my gaze.  I just wanted to tear it down, to get to him. He was over there just as helpless as my own body was before me. My dream self stretched out, hard and fast, it was almost like tearing a muscle the sickening noise that echoed in my ears, but I hit the wall. It was hard. It hurt like hell, but I was already sliding through the spaces between the wall and somewhere else.

He was there. Just like mine, his body was helpless. Above him, was something else, smoke and ash poured out of his mouth and hovered above him. His breathing was ragged, cut with deep snores, he stirred ever so slightly at my appearance. Each breath drew the thing of ash and smoke deeper into him… he was trying to wake. I screamed. I was crying. I had moved into the smoke and ash. Deep within the smoke, two cherry red embers burned where eyes should have been, I clawed at them with sharp alien looking hands. With every slash, I felt my muscles rip and still they eluded my rage, finally slipping between his lips. His face contorted as blackened finger length daggers passed through his head. Steely walls had replaced his features and I hammered away at it with huge sledgehammers that were once my hands. He was in there, I could feel it. I would have him.

So, the first playtest went well. The basic mechanics seems to function near to what I was envisioning. Some changes are being made to expedite play and to counter "wankery" beyond the "hit the door" method.

The players felt that it would be too easy to bully another player through the economy system as it is and ultimately whose decision is it when narrating effects get applied to the "Victim." I think that the term "Victim" sums up my thought processes here, but I do see the ease of which it would… will… be abused. I say call Wankery and be done with it! Besides, that is what the Right of Denial is for. I was countered with this ‘right’ depends on the maintaining a reserve of FATE points that people would be less than willing to use for fear of being taken advantage later. Epiphany! The Right of Denial is also a source of Wankery in that a player could deny everything, not allowing for any form of concession.  This way lies madness… and DOOM!!

The Doom mechanic is being adjusted to fit the bill of Wanker-repellent as well as the force of Fate crushing down on the character. Doom will now be the basis of Denials. Deny something and gain a Doom. Pushing off the consequences of a Conflict means that later, you will have to deal with the Doom. Reserving Fate is no longer needed. Check. What about the bullying? Well, Doom will also be generated by those trying to apply the unacceptable effects as well at the consensus of the table. If the Victim feels he is being bullied, he need only call for the table to vote and he can give the Doom to the bully. Beyond this, any social issues going on at the table are beyond rules to begin with.

The next issue that came up is with the standard FATE wound tracks; well, Composure specifically. No one at the table was willing accept the idea that when fighters taunt each other that they can use it to take advantage of the other... these people would seem to disagree. The argument against social stress is that anyone worthy of being a character would not fall for generic taunts, thus to affect someone's composure would need a special ability (i.e. an Aspect’s Invoke usable in taunting). Thought as a genre/setting aspect is was agreeable. Alternatively, finding (or maybe a Declaration) the one thing that would bother the character and using it against them... seems leaving Tags open-ended and some Compels covers this... but seems to lack the fluid nature of social conflicts to me. Requires further development.

The next step is deciding on keeping the Health, Composure, and Aura Stress Tracks. Since I have taken to the idea of striking an Aspect to handle damage absorption, are Stress Tracks necessary? I am beginning to doubt it. It may be easier just to allow Conditions to be created by the Victor as any other Aspect being applied through a Declaration or Maneuver as per FATE.

In some relation to the above, I am changing the way Attributes are ranked and removing the Weakness and Forte. The idea of a Forte being based on an Attribute seemed to be too broad and constantly required people to expend FATE to even challenge the Person, also Forte Vs Forte conflicts cropped up too much. Instead it will be shifted over to the Aspects. Weakness will get a name change and become a Status of an Attribute that is ranked at 0, regardless of that being the “dump” stat or through damage.

The next playtest will address the world of extramundane abilities / aka "da kewl powerz." Seems to be some concern on the development of making one character's abilities truly special without the mechanical differences between them as found in most other games. I am thinking that it is a matter of fluff and setting, not one of core mechanics.


And the Hard Choice? well the system name; Wyrd

So I watched Zombieland last night. It was good. Not some masterpiece that is going to redefine the genre, but playful look at one guys journey. If you dig zombies, go see it.

Now, the question is why are there not other supernatural apocalypses? The Lycanocalpyse? Gargopalypse? Nosferalptica? I won't go with a Mummy since it’s just an anorexic zombie in its dress clothes, but I think the idea is soundly rooted in your mind. As an aside: the Fearie- Apocalypse is an upcoming game of mine, stay tuned for details.

Jokingly the crew talked about how it is cheating for zombies to be fast, able to climb fences, or open doors. Cheating! The idea of them being able to reason, I think,  brings them back into the realm of humanity and our ability to distance ourself is diminished.

So why are there no Werewolf  Apocalypse stories, or a fuck ton of Gargoyles descending down from the sky to feast on the tasty morsels that is humanity. I think Lumley already showed the type of world to expect when it is ran by Vampires. No need to revisit it from my PoV. From my friend Josh: "No one wants to think about trying to out think a wolf-like hunting machine; you're just fucking dead"  "Vampires that can embrace wouldn't need to fear humanity or control it from the background. They would just take over and offer immortality while killing off all those that resisted them."

I like Josh, but he is a bit fatalistic about such things. So is this true, are there no other supernatural thingies that would bring about an apocalypse without total extinction? Would any of them make for a good story along the way?

He had noticed that events were cowards: they didn't occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once.

~ Neil Gaiman quote

                The ‘meat’ of any game is in how they handle the character squaring off against Conflict, facing the Risks to see that something gets done and dealing with the Consequences. To me, the last part is a big one. Most game mechanics handle the first two, but the last one... It almost always seems so clean and methodical… so trite. The world is a mess, the heroes have to walk in the shadows of their own preconceived expectations, and the events swirling around us bear the wounds of indifference.  So, we have to be flexible enough to actually let the characters get up that creek, and the best way is the one of their choosing.  Then, once they have gotten there, we let them see that they never had a paddle.

That’s how we roll…

1.       Declare Conflict – this is usually done by the Storyteller, but can be done by players as well, though other players may block this if wangery is afoot.

2.       The player may both Invoke an Aspect as well as Tag an Aspect once per Conflict without paying any FATE. Alternatively, the player may choose to Compel a single Aspect for Free. Any additional Invokes, Tags, or Compels will cost the player… a lot. Each additional manipulation of Aspects costs 1 FATE per Rank. The total number of FATE points that can be spent on a single Conflict roll is equal to the Wyrd rating of the Scene (often 1, 2, or 3).

3.       Gather the Bones - Players will roll a number of dice equal to a single Attribute, their Invoked Aspect in Ranks (if any), the total number of Tagged Aspects Ranks, and any FATE expended to bolster the roll.

4.       Set Aside Wagers – At this point, the player takes as many dice away from this pool as he feels comfortable with not rolling. This poor group of outcast dice are left out of the Conflict, so whatever there is what you get to roll and you better feel as if you can roll enough successes to match (or beat) the Threshold.

5.       Roll! – Throw the dice. Each die that comes up 4, 5, or 6 is said to have favor and counts as a success. The goal of rolling is to determine if you have enough favor to see you through the conflict. Each conflict will have a one of three thresholds of success, based on the Consequences of the characters actions. Success determines who narrates, the wagers determines the depth of narration.

6.       Version A Of Doom and Discord – Every once and a while, the Character will be doing something mundane and the whole world turns into a shitstorm around him, a real pool-pah. Only the Storyteller and the player can call out the Doom, though the player may pay a FATE to hold off the Wyrd for a single roll. When the Doom is upon the Character and Conflict requires a roll, remove one token from the Crucible and return it to the Wyrd. Do this until the Crucible is empty. Now those extra dice, the ones that were rolled and did not generate Favor those guys are Discord. The 1s, 2s, and 3s, are the and antithesis of Favor and they will negate all of the favor you generate…

7.       Version B Of Doom and Discord – Eventually the Character will have pressed his luck once too often or maybe the player denied the consequences of failure beyond the limits of causality (ie. Dramatic reasoning and fair play).  Whenever the player does not succeed an appropriately dramatic conflict (i.e. the player did not roll enough successes), the Storyteller pays the player a single FATE in exchange for draining the Crucible. Each token taken is a Wager usable by the Storyteller who dictates the Consequences of the Conflict. This is to the Pain.

8.       Making Concessions – Once the die has been cast and the victor declared, this player begins his narration of the Conflict. Each Wager equates to a single fact, a single wound or condition level, one detail. For the Victim, there is only the hope of enduring or denial.

Enduring – By enduring the consequences, the player has accepted that the character must suffer. In this instance, the player must agree with the Victors use of his Wager and then distribute any Wager levied against him in the form of Damage or Condition.

Denial – The Victim can not only say no, but Hell No! Wagers that inflict Wounds or Conditions can be converted into Doom, but at the cost of a FATE point given to the Victor. Details must be paid for on a ratio of 1:1. One FATE : One Detail negated.  Remember, there is nothing wrong with the Victor using another Wager to try and get the same detail that has already been denied… but there is also nothing wrong with other players aiding the Victim with additional FATE (see Aiding Others and How Good Deeds  Go).

9.       Paying the Piper – this is the time where the Victim assigns those Wager levied against him. The Victim may take Wagers as Wounds Levels, essential a specially ranked Aspect, Wounds are the only way to kill the character… but more on Death and Dying in a moment. The Victim may also place a strike against an Aspect that cancels out the Aspect’s Rank of Wound Levels. So if the Victim has 5 Wound Levels levied against him, he can Strike his “Best lover you’ll ever know: 3” Aspect to absorb 3 of the 5 Wounds. The remaining Wound Levels must become a Wound equal to the left over levels. The effects of Striking an Aspect are below:

Strike 1 – the Aspect is No longer Free. This Aspect costs FATE to use, regardless of being the first Aspect of the Conflict or a Forte Descriptor. This Strike lasts for the rest of the Story.

Strike 2 – the Aspect has been tripped. The Hook related to this Aspect has become activated and must be attended to before the Strike can be lifted. The Aspect can still be used, though it continues to Cost the player.

Strike 3 – the Aspect is Damaged – This Aspect is gone, it can not be used. The Hook must be resolved in order for the player to utilize this Aspect. An additional Hook must be used to reset the Aspect strike to back to normal.

You’re OUT of HERE! – The player destroys the Aspect if he takes another strike to it. Something has/will happen that denies the Character from this Aspect permanently, there is no way to stop it or benefit from it. Furthermore, the player gains Doom tokens equal to this Aspects Rank.

Defining Doom

Doom – The character has a doom, a fate that will end their current incarnation. This need not mean death, though that certainly is the most common. Doom is the measure of Fate working against the character and is gained when the player denies the Consequences of his actions. The player has the option of converting any Wagers levied against the Character into Doom tokens.  

Wounds as an Aspect

A wound is the reward of failure, they mark the character with a lesson.

Rank 1 – Flesh Wound. Scratches, bruises and other minor annoyances. The Rank 1 Wounds heal after a day of rest, though their effects may be visible for weeks to come.

Rank 2 – Hurting. The character is in pain and really needs to rest. This Wound Rank heals after two days of resting, at which time it becomes Rank 1.

Rank 3 -  Injured. The character is seriously harmed, though in no danger of his life presently.  This Wound Rank can be compelled to force the Victim to pass out. This Rank requires an entire Week of rest to become Rank 2.

Rank 4 – Crippled. The character is in tremendous pain, most likely has broken bones and internal damages. Medical attention is needed for this Wound to heal and it takes Months to recover. This Wound will leave a Scar

Rank 5 – Near Death Experience. Dying and helpless, the character is not long without the help of proper medical care.

Tagging Wounds

Exploited – Any Wound or Condition can be tagged to give a die pool bonus equal to its rank. If the tagging player is the victor of the Conflict, he may choose to increase the Wound or Condition by 1 Rank or replace it with a new value (so long as he has enough Wagers to create the new Wound or Condition). In this way, the Victor is able to circumvent the Defender’s Right to Denial.

(Re) Defining Aspects and the Purpose of Attributes

Aspects are those things define a character, they can best be thought up in clips and phrases, quotes or sound bites. Anything that is punchy and thought-provoking works best. Aspects should reflect the essence of the character, showing his meaning and depth (even if that depth is only ankle deep).  The Character Creation Questions can provide a minefield of possibilities, some will be good and many bad, that’s ok. Characters, at least the interesting ones are the products of tragedy and ingrained limitations. In other words, flawed; in fact it is best if the character has several dark corners or even a skeleton or two. These flaws serve two purposes. The first and most important is that a flawed character is an interesting character and interesting characters are more enjoyable to play. The second is that the game mechanics create an economy of exploited flaws to further the story and provide fuel for player driven badassery. Those familiar with the origins of Aspects in games such as Fudge and then refined in FATE may be used to the raw open-ended potential that the use of Aspects can bring. Unfortunately, for all of their potential, some players (at least, many of those that I have dealt with first hand) find themselves overwhelmed by this. Instead we will take a cue from John Wick’s Houses of the Blooded and narrow the scope of Aspects, but we will leave the door open for a fair deal of expansion.

Aspects are made of six elements, with the possibility of sub-elements.

                Descriptor – While the beauty of Aspects is that they can bring a narrative quality of the character in to a mechanical function of the game experience, it is sometimes best to have that Aspect be associated with a particular set of standardized categories. Descriptors are those categories and are divided into two rather large groupings: Attributes and Thematics.  Thematic Aspects relate directly to the setting, especially with those themes and pressures of the game fiction. Each setting should have a set of themes that the player can choose to incorporate his character in with tangible mechanical consequences.  While it is feasible to have an Aspect that relates to multiple Themes or even a couple of Attributes, the player must associate only one; either a single Attribute or a single Theme, never more.

                Compel - This provides a narrative limitation to the character's behavior. There are no hard and fast rules for this, but the player should examine at least one instance that this limitation should hold true. It is important to be clear as to what this facet of the character's Aspect is going to do as it will be used to character the character’s behavior from the intent of the player. If an Aspect is compelled, that character gains a single FATE point for allowing his behavior to be controlled. If the player does not want the Character to be Compelled, he must pay X FATE points to ignore it for one scene. The X equals the Rank of the Aspect, with a default of one.

                Tag – Each Aspect possess a disadvantage that exists under some explicit circumstance that the player understands will be used against the character. When a character uses an Aspect of another character, an item, or even a situation to their own advantage, they gain X dice for their action. Why a bonus die? Well, you never can count on using an opponent’s weakness as being their downfall, things don’t always go as planned, and finally, it provides a scalable difference in effect .  Again, X is equal to the Aspects Rank.

                Invoke – The advantage to an Aspect can be found here. The player must create an explicit circumstance that the Aspect will be able to influence. A type of action or situation in which the Aspect is relevant is the best gauge for an Invoke, Aspect that could be applied to anything lead to power gaming and twinkery. The player is able to gather a number of dice equal to the Aspect’s Rank once invoked.

                Hook – The player (with the help of the GM) should create at least one possible idea for a future story that involves the character’s Aspect. This Hook is used to frame a scene (or sequence of scenes) that reset an Aspect to an ‘undamaged’ state. The consequences of conflict are covered in more detail in the Conflict section. Each Wound Level reduces the Aspect by a corresponding number of Ranks. If the Aspect is reduced to 0 Ranks or less, the player, must expend X FATE points to utilize the Aspect. The X equals the total Rank of the Aspect, but can provide no more than 3 dice to any action. Edited this, I think the details covered in Conflict section state what I was looking for better.

                Rank – Aspects can be taken multiple times, each time increasing its rank. These increases to Rank increase the number of dice that its Invoke can generate, the severity of Wound that it can absorb,  and the number of Aptitude that can be attached to it.

                Cost – Aspects are powerful and that kind of power is going to cost you, it always does. But that’s ok; the story needs you to buy in and to be bought off to function smoothly.  The player must pay a single FATE point to Invoke an Aspect, this FATE point is given to the Ubik.  Likewise, whenever a player tags another’s Aspect that spent FATE point is paid to the defensive player after the Risk has been resolved. The defensive player will not be able to

Aptitude (an Aspect Sub-Element)

                Aspects are powerful game components. They allow the player to express their Character without fear of repressive lists and “not-quite what I wanted” feats to flesh out the concept. Still, the Aspect on its own leaves a very iconic character that many players will want to grow into. Aptitudes provide opportunities for growth and advancement by bending the rules in subtle ways. There are limitations to the number of Aptitudes that a single Aspect can support. Aspects cannot have more Aptitudes(s) then one less than the Aspect has in Ranks. Each Aptitude provides only one of the following benefits:

Bank Expendable – This Aptitude creates a special container that the player can save FATE points for later use. Any FATE points stored within this Aspect are usable only to power this Aspect.

Store Dice – On a successful Risk, the player may opt to take excess Successes and store them as additional Dice usable within the same scene.

Convert Success to Wager – After the roll is made, any additional Successes that would normally be wasted can be counted as Wagers.

Additional Invoke – another circumstance under which the Aspect may be Invoked.

Turn About – When defending, you may spend Wagers as if you had attacked.

Unique / Thematic Descriptor

Forte –A specialty Descriptor that helps to create a niche in the game fiction for the character. The player chooses an Aspect that no longer needs Expenditure to invoke. While it is possible that a character have several Fortes, it is impractical since they will not count towards Attributes or other thematic forces. See Attributes.

Sorcery – The Aspect in question is within the realm of the extra-mundane; magical. Through this type of Aspect you can break the laws of physics with relative impunity, at least in the purview detailed by the Invoke. And best of all, this is accomplished with without pomp and ceremony normally required to achieve similar Effects. These Conflicts must overcome Discord. Note: This descriptor may be completely off the mark for some games and in those cases ignore it. Please. It makes its way here because of the balance that it brings without having to be heavy handed in its control of game breaking Effects. By denying the Aspect in question the descriptor of Attribute, it is lowering the overall number of dice available for those types of Risks.

Attributes and the universal building blocks of the Theme-iverse

The attribute is the base unit of the character’s universal mechanical description. During Character Creation, the player must assign one of the following values (Forte, 3, 3, 2, 2, Weakness) to the Attributes listed below. Each numerical value represents the number of dice that Attribute can gather when attempting a Risk. Additionally, the Attribute value acts as a limit on how many Ranks an Aspect can attain. This leaves the implication, that Aspects not associated with an Attribute can have only one Rank.

Physique – The characters physical form, this includes their strength, stamina, and general health. Every physical action (lifting things, running, jumping, unarmed combat, etc) is about knowing how to use one’s body.

Prowess – Whether from martial training or raw animal instinct, you know how to inflict grievous wounds with weapons of all kinds. Prowess also represents tactical thinking; maneuvering on the battlefield or applying strategy to a duel.

Cunning – Discerning the world around the character, to see the hidden, notice the detail, connecting the dots within the webs of deceit. As a counterpoint, Cunning is also the ability to hide the truth from others, create a feint, disguise your intent.

Mettle – The character’s inner strength, courage, and discipline. People are fundamentally selfish beings, primarily concerned with their own gratification and continued survival. Mettle is about rising above such base instincts, staring down Death and enduring hardships through sheer will alone.

Kenning – To have knowledge of the world and the secrets it holds. Kenning is also the power of foresight, the ability to cope with the knowledge of the world and its forbidden lores. When presented with an “Undefined Aspect of the World,” Kenning Wagers allow you to fill in those holes with the details of your choosing.

Verve – Artistic style embodied in the passion for beauty and truth. The spirit and enthusiasm animating artistic composition or performances, Verve is the source of Creation. Any creative act whose purpose is to bring about a Revelation, no matter how dark and cruel the method may be, is the purview of Verve.

Character Creation Questions and the Three Things

                With each question, say three true things about the character.  These three things will be the guidelines for developing the character’s Aspects.

1. What is the character? – These Aspects should relate to the physical nature of the character and may include mention of their racial traits as well as unusual features.
2. What does the character know or do? – These Aspects define the skills and abilities of the character.
3. What does the character stand for? -  This section for Aspects should showcase the character’s motivations. These Aspects may be driven by his ideals and beliefs or from deep-seated instincts and psychosis. 
4. **Who does the character associate with?** – The player should define any relationships that reveal the character’s nature. Of especial note, should be those Aspects that relate the player’s characters to each other.
5. **What role does the Character play in the Story?** – Aspects should be associated with the role that the character will fill in the story/group. This Aspect should be created with some measure of group consensus to allow all players access to a niche

Amongst many of my friends I am the indie guy, the tinkerer, and mostly the GM. This may be because I have been running for some of them off and on for nearly a decade and in that time I have never been happy with a setting or mechanic as is. To be fair, I started really running games with Rifts and Vampire so there is a lot that could be improved. In that time, I am known for liking epic storylines that are rolled in grit, dipped in the surreal, and decorated with mythic overtones... its why I love mage so much. Ascayros can attest, I can obsess about the details of a setting to the point of overkill and unfortunately, I feel that is one of my short comings as an RPG writer is the inclusion of too much detail. My Ahtalis setting could be 3x the size it is now if I went back and re-read it to fill in the gaps of game world knowledge I have dreamt up. Part of this obsession is due to the rules. I hate them for stifling one's imagination, but I love their ability to focus a game. 

There have been a number of games lately that have really gotten under my skin, some of this is setting and som are rules. FATE, HotB, Trail of Cthulhu / Mutant City Blues, Rocketship Empires 1936,  Unhallowed Metropolis, 7th Sea, the dream of Dresden Files rpg, Prime Time Adventures, Mage, Wilderness of Mirrors, PDQ, Dark Heresy, Unisystem (especially Armageddon and Buffy). Most of these I will not get to play or run because of differences in the players that I have. This is not a bad thing, but is counterproductive to really digging to some concepts that I have floating in my head.

A while back,seannittner posted an RPG wishlist and I have been stewing ever since on creating something that would satisfy my indie thoughts with something that is playable. The core of my design objective is to create a game that recognizes the flow of a story and empowers the players to proactively adapt to the themes to further the collective story. Many games try to capture the feel of physics (movie or real world), but I think this is mistake. I want to see mechanics control the flow of the story by reflecting the character's core elements.

Now, what the hell does this mean? It means, or at least I see it as, a mechanic that is about narrative privilege and who gets to take the reigns of the story and guide the action. At the same time, the mechanics should be composed of the story elements that define the insert noun here (character, place, thing, etc).  The mechanic must also engage the players in some fashion to heighten the tension of the risk that the character is entrenched in.

Goals of the mechanic. Done. Any game that I would want to be involved with needs to handle magic in a way that is ‘esoteric' (but not so steeped in the metaphysics that it becomes a philosophical debate), the influence of destiny and Archetypes, corruption, spiritual evolution, and masters of a craft... I will get back to those in a bit.

So what is it that I want to incorporate from those influences? I don't know, but here is a rough stab at this point: Say Yes, Roll the Dice, or Compel

• Virtues Vs Attributes - this is one thats up for some debate
• Aspects - Ranked and redefined to become more narrowed and manageable then standard FATE.
• Dice Pools (not sure if I want an additive TN or a success based)
• Tension between players (i.e. Wagers, or some method of almost gambling to ramp up competition)
• ThreeThings that are True
• Themes empowered mechanically (ala Wilderness of Mirrors)
• Stress (and Consequences)
• Story Hooks as per PDQ
• Token Economy – Scene Budgeting
• Maneuvers / Techniques as a Wager Reduction
• Static Defenses (Wager Minimums based on Aspect types)

More later

My story thus far

I was born to unusual and some would say tragic circumstances. You see my mother was found washed ashore the Atlantic coast line near Boston. She was found naked, brutally raped, and nearly dead from saline poisoning and hypothermia. In those days, they didn’t do much for rape victims; there were no genetic tests to be run… that was still a few years off and to compound issues, her mind was left fractured. She was taken to the [ Insert Abbadons In sanitarium]. Several weeks after she arrived they noticed she was showing signs pregnancy. Me.

Luckily, the psychologist that headed the institution took great interest in my mother’s case and by proxy myself. I am told that when I was born, or rather plucked from my mother’s womb,C-section you see, she could not push me out so they have to cut me out. I was told that she cried tears of the bluest azure.

The Doctor adopted me and raised me as his own. I was given the best education that money could buy; my tutors were the very best minds of the time. I could not count the times that I had been told how intelligent I was or insightful into a subject I was for my age. Perhaps that is way I grew tired of my studies and why my tutors never seemed to last long.

I spent my formative years exploring the palatial estates that surrounded the institution, getting acquainted with the wild life. I was fascinated by the way they moved, the way that they thrived, but most of all I was enthralled by the very processes of life.

It was a sad day then, when one of the orderlies was sent out into the near forest to retrieve me when I was late for dinner. More so for him that he found my hard work and reported my method of study to the Doctor. You see, so fascinated by the mechanics of life, I had to discover for myself how they worked. So, I took them apart to see for myself…

Later, the institutes’ very hallways became my playground. I would sneak into offices and read files or play in the surgery theaters. Surprisingly, I would always seem to slip past any form of security or the security was just gone when I wanted to play in an area. But most of all, I enjoyed watching the way people interacted with each other, the way orderlies would get the little revenges for slights from people beyond coherent thought, or the doctors that had lost their humanity as they observed the ill like insects. Despite all of my exploring, my watching; in the entirety of my stay with the Doctor, I only saw my mother three times.

The first time I saw her I was four years old. I was led into her room by an orderly, Robert, bobby at the time; he was working his way through medical school and was a protégé of the Doctor. He held my hand and told me that she was very sick and that I shouldn’t be afraid of someone who was sick. I could barely stand to look at her. A body fallen to the ravages of bed confinement and sedentary. It was the coma’s fault I was told, but when I looked at her I only saw this half dead thing. It was shortly after that visit that I began my great works of discovery into the processes of life. I hated her for being weak, not being there for me when I needed a mother.

The second time I saw her was during one of many explorations of the institute. I had been playing in one of the empty surgery theaters, with the disused medical equipment and pretending that I was a famous surgeon saving the lives of my lessers. All the while, thinking of how I would be having my way with their wives (and my nurses) out of sheer gratitude for my greatness, what can I say, I was 12. When I had had my fill of such play I went prowling through the hallways and heard these terrible grunting noises, like a pig. It was a man making the noise and as I came upon the slightly open door I could seem him having his was way with a patient. I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene. I’m ashamed to say that I was excited by the events… but when I finally pulled myself away from it, I saw glanced at the patients name on the door; my mother. I looked to her dead face, that expressionless mask and there I saw a single sapphire blue tear and the next moment…

I was waking up at the foot of her bed with the doctor over me, with his gentle smile and his hand offering me a hand up, the thick blanket already draped over my shoulders and back. The wall opposite my mother’s bed was a riot of dark browns and red gore. The orderly’s body, I recognized it as him immediately, as his face was still intact. Surrounded by the ruined flesh that had once been his body, his face seemed to have been caught in throws of lust, the snarl and half leer frozen in rigor mortis. Looking back, there was very little blood for the massacre, but the Doctor smiled at me and told me that these things would tend to themselves and that I should not dwell on it. My mother was moved to another room, and for the next week, I felt as if I was force of nature.

After the incident, I had looked for her for weeks. When I asked about her, I was told that she had been moved and it was best that I not visit her until after the shock had had a chance to pass. But she was gone, it was that simple. The following year, I saw my mother for the last time. On the night before I was set to leave for school, I wandered the hallways of the institute remembering all of my years living here. For whatever reason, I had begun to wander in a daze. When I had realized that come into an older part of the institute that I had rarely visited, I saw that I was standing before the foot of her bed. Her near lifeless body, rotting before me… I stared at her for a long moment when this horrible sound of a gurgling moan emerged from her throat; she shot straight up, he eyes ablaze of blue-black fire. We locked eyes and for the first time, I felt her presence with me and I was somehow drawn into her mind… It was there that I saw the secret that had held her in a prison of her own flesh, her attacker, my father, and the potential of my conception.

I walked away from her cold dead body, aware of my heritage and of the teeming populace of others like her, like my father and of the war that loomed in my future.

<<<the rest of the story is yet to unfold>>>

And it shall end with…

So what am I? I am a miserable half breed, born of the very spark that set the Fires of Creation ablaze only to find myself ripped from a filthy womb of mud that had been given the semblance of life and intellect.

But you…. YOU and your kind, you are less than nothing and I shall pave the world in your blood to make way for my ascension.

Once, there was this guy, he had a beautiful wife and he thought he was the luckiest man on earth. Unfortunately, his lovely wife did not feel so lucky or all that loved really… or at least, maybe, it just wasn’t a love that mattered anymore. So our friend’s wife found a dangerous sort, the kind of man that could make a person feel alive for once in a long time. Almost happy even.

So this guy, our friend, our dear dear friend goes along with his life. Blind to what is in front of him. This affair is made worse by the fact that for all his passion, all of his love for this woman, he can not show it. If he could have, maybe things would not be what they are. One day our friend comes home early and he finds his wife asking this stranger to take her, begging for the most perverse desires, things she had always denied him. He stands there and he watches his bedroom door, its rhythmic pounding, bouncing in its frame. Frozen in anger, raging in his own grief, our friend fell and was truly gone.

Now, our friend was not really a man of violence… he had put those rash things behind him. In his youth, our dear friend, was on his way to be a dangerous sort. But one day he fell in love and he tried very hard to be a better person. To be that kind soul worthy of a beautiful love. Little by little, the years wore away that stony dangerous man till only our friend was left.

So now, he sits in his car, our friend, he watches his home from the ally and he waits. He stares at the stranger’s car sitting in his driveway for an hour and then another, exhausted from the heat. The stranger comes out of our friend’s home, with our friend’s beautiful wife. She is barely dressed while the stranger adjusts his tie, they kiss goodbye, long and passionate. Quite a touching scene actually, that picture perfect husband going off to work. After the car drives away, our friend walks up to his beautiful wife as she stands in the yard watching the car drive away. Our friend tells her that he is sorry that he lost his way home. He tells her that all things are forgiven and as the rain begins to fall, a smile creeps onto his face, and our friend says that these things have a way of tending to themselves.

Betrayal and Hubris

:: Written by: Weaverchilde ::

Honor- Scene 1

The alley was empty, save for the cloaked figure. He stood motionless at the edge of the lamplight's glowing cone. The wind whirled about creating small tornadoes of debris and the night was a starless void of black.

"I feel you there," the man's deep resonate voice carried the weight of authority and surety "come out Fem Di'roth and let us finish this Transaction."

"Greetings" the crystalline singsong voice seemed to dance on the air. "I understand your scouts have confirmed my information." The shadows seemed to part as the tall Fem Di'roth took a step forward and his faint luminescent skin began to glow.

"Yes" Stated the cloaked figure "Now let us discuss your payment."

Shifting under the heavy folds of cloth, the shorter figure produced a blue-white sphere nearly twice the size of his hand. "The Nilhilam Orb, a very difficult item to acquire and one I see little use in your hands..." his last words bordered on accusation.

"A trinket, an oddity of immense beauty and intricate lore. We wish to study it and perchance understand, but this may now be insufficient" All the while he spoke, the serene smile never faltered and never gave way to another emotion.

Anger flared within the cloaked figure, the edges of the cloak began to float and take on the hues of blue-white light. Across the figure's body the pseudo-electric arcs of mystical energy pulsed into life and even his eyes, hidden deep with the hood, glowed the blue-white of magic. "I can not believe this," the commanding essence held within his vice boomed through the air. "This Relic is priceless; have you any idea how difficult it was to obtain it?"

"Yes" stated the Fem Di'roth; his chiming voice was filled with an eerie serenity as he continued, "I believe the Irkanin Academy will find it missing in the morning, there will no doubt be a full scale investigation."

The build up of mystical energy washed away from the cloaked figure, the shock of the Fem Di'roth's knowledge carried through into his voice "What?"

Tilting his head slightly, the Fem Di'roth's radiant skin grew in intensity and his smile deepened ever so slightly. "Though the deception is crude, the officials will be more then ready to believe that the Human Emissary committed the theft, rather then someone of your position."

The figure began to pull the hood of his cloak back "You know too much for your own good, Fem Di'roth" his weathered face revealed in the pale lamp light of the ally. The Magus was old, but in a way that defied knowing his actual age. His eyes were the radiant blue-white glow with no visible pupil, the effects of mystical study and self-experimentation.

"So I have been told Magus Khayiane" The Fem Di'roth's face was a mask of pristine diplomacy, unchanging and eternal. "The information previously told to you is still true, but there are new variables to consider. Such as Magus Bratux's offensive into the Southern Regions."

"The affairs of a fellow Magi are not mine to judge, save for those actions that jeopardize the Empire" The Magus retorted. Continuing with a disdainful chuckle, "Besides he is a minor Magi with little ability, at best he talks his enemies to death. This offensive he is proclaiming is little more then banner waving to bolster his political career"

The Fem Di'roth agent merely nodded his head stating, "Few truer words have been spoken, but just such actions are what we speak of." His arms spread wide and then inward with a gesture that ended with his hands locked together shaking slightly he continued "Such men often talk others into fighting for them and so remain untouched. In this case the Magus Bratux will take the field and assault the Southern Regions. It concerns your interest because he will attack the Troll encampment that is using the old dwarven mines. It concerns the Irkanin Empire only because he will fail."

Shaking his head Magus Khayiane replied. "The failings of my fellow Magi is of little concern to me, it will be one fewer fool to swell our ranks. Besides he..."

"Again I agree," interrupted the Fem Di'roth agent "but his actions will dramatically effect the Empire in ways that are unseen to us. We only know that the stabilizing force that is the Empire would be lost." The Fem Di'roth stood still looking into the eyes of the Magus and finished by saying "Or a hero could step into the way of fate and avert such a catastrophe."

"You exaggerate Fem Di'roth, Magus Bratux would have to be given an entire wing of Seraphim," the Magus chided "and then..."

The Fem Di'roth's unchanging stare gave the Magus pause. In an eternal moment, the two looked at each other and an understanding passed from one to the other without a word.

"Excellent deduction Magus, we had greatly under estimated your spy network. I had only learned of the 5 Seraphim promised to Bratux today."

"Now, I know that you lie Fem Di'roth," stated the Magus. "Each Magus may command only one Seraph. Such is the Law of Padishah," continued the Magus, but still he knew the information provided by the Fem Di'roth and his agents was never wrong.

The gentle smile was un-phased by the halfhearted accusation and his eyes never left the Magus' "We of the Fem Di'roth learned long ago that each person is their own Law, governed by strength of will and the ability to impose that will on others"

Magus Khayiane seemed unable to believe that any Magi would risk such an act. Stunned into silence he stated, "What you speak of goes beyond breaking a law, it is nothing short of civil war"

"Laws are a paradox, they are formed and continue to exist to instill order and peace, but they do so by stifling and condemning. Their very nature is oppressive and sometimes people find ways to see them changed" The Fem Di'roth spoke the words as if he had seen the events come to pass a thousand times.

"Bratux would never be able to purchase or build an entire Wing of Seraphim, I want to know who are his supporters are," demanded the Magus "I will see their heads on pikes to line the staircase to the Irkanin War Academy."

The Fem Di'roth replied with a voice that held both laughter and sorrow with the words he spoke "They remain hidden, cloaked within the Shadows of an Enigma, they are a riddle we long to solve." And as if to detract Khayiane from following his set course the Fem Di'roth continued, "You have missed the revelation; Bratux's offensive will fail. In fact, from the perspective of the Fem Di'roth, he already has."

The Magus stood there bathed in the pale lamplight, his face a mask of cold logic in motion. He knew that the intelligence of the Fem Di'roth was never wrong and that their predictions were often better then fact. His mind raced as he explored each possible line of outcomes, performing multi-level calculations and predictions the Magus' eyes darted back and forth, his inner eye searching through near-endless probabilities as they unfolded before him.

"The rebels will capture the Seraphim and you believe that they would be able to use them or worse, duplicate their construction." Magus Khayiane stood in shocked horror as the realization set in. The Fem Di'roth remained silent with his ever present smile. The Magus nearly shouted in a hoarse whisper "It must not be!"

"There is, of course, a matter of the payment" the Fem Di'roth said coolly "the Nilhilam Orb will only procure this information. Any further assistance will require a greater contribution."

Deceptions- Scene 2

The Assembly of the Irkanin Empire, held within the walls of War Academy, was in debate. Demi-Magus Oldus walked next to Magus Khayiane, late for the opening ceremonies their footfalls echoed through the empty quad.

"How do you plan to stop the offensive?" asked the near breathless Demi-Magus.

"Stop? How does one stop the tide of the ocean or the rise and fall of the moon in the sky?" replied the Magus "I will not stop such an action, I plan to only hinder it and ensure that the Empire does not fail with it"

"Well I'm sure that Magus Or-Tane has the other Councilors in a huff by now" commented Demi-Magus Oldus.

"He is one of my students after all," replied the Magus a small smirk of satisfaction crossed his face as they reached the huge doubles.

The Magus stood there and gazed up at the 15 feet golden colored stone doors; with a force of will the doors opened and the pair walked through in a rapid pace.

The Assembly was awash with voices trying to be heard over their neighbors. Magus Bratux hovered in the middle of the sphere shaped hall, a cruel smile across his face.

"Please, please, silence!" Bratux repeated, trying to hush the enraged crowd. While trying to hush them he secretly was pleased that he had brought the usually sober crowd of Magi to frenzy. "Salandi's Avatar is silent because WE have lost direction; his dream is fading while we argue. Surely you can look around and see why we must expand? We must push the limits of the Irkanin Empire to their natural boundaries."

The hall exploded in another wave of cheers and hisses as the Assemblymen argued with each over the fate of the Empire. The Nobles wished to only defend their borders while a new Padishah was chosen and then there was Bratux and his supporters who, wished begin a new wave of conquest.

"Dear Magus Bratux" the calm and diplomatic voice of Magus Or-Tane cut through the assembly, carried by a commanding magic that brought quite to the hall. "What would you have us do?" His young face was bright and filled with a personal delight at finally seeing his fellow Magi alive with motivation and emotion. "Conquer the Realm by grinding our forces into dust against our enemies?"

"Magus Or-Tane, your youth is refreshing, but with age and experience you'll find that sacrifices must be made to further the Empire. I know this will strain the limits of some provinces, but it will secure a greater and far lasting peace.

"No Bratux" snapped Magus Or-Tane, purposely forgetting the honorific of Magus "You speak of suicide, what order could we impose upon the Realm from our rubble filled graves?"

"My friends, Assemblymen, and fellow Magi" Magus Khayiane interrupted, hopping before Or-Tane's rashness took shape in a shouting match. "With the death of the Padishah, under somewhat questionable circumstance, we must show the people of Realm we are undaunted."

Magus Khayiane glided through the great hall, and stopped next to Magus

Bratux at the center of the assembly hall; each inch he moved, Magus

Khayiane hoped that Salandi's Avatar would awake and instill order. He imagined the awe-inspiring voice commanding silence, to give the floor to a single speaker and allow him to be heard. Events that have happened thousands of time before, the very order of civilization lay locked behind the curtain of silence the Avatar kept. In utter stillness, Salandi's Avatar stood there with his consciousness refusing or unable to respond or even acknowledge the debate raging on, a debate that could hold the Irkanin Empire together.

Finally the Magi came face to face, "Magus Bratux" spoke Magus Khayiane with the slightest of nods and gentle smile.

"Khayiane, I'm surprised you even made it," the acid voice poorly contained a knowing chuckle. Magus Khayiane held no illusion that this would most likely be the author of the assassination attempt against him this morning. Magus Khayiane held back rage and disgust as he turned to speak to the general audience.

"We are the body of the Empire, a physical form given a will of its own, but what of our Soul" waving his hand back towards Salandi's Avatar, "that perfect unchanging soul that we must remain true to. Now, Magus Bratux wishes to see the Empire expand and thus prosper, but at what cost?"

"A collection of broken bones and wasted lives is not an Empire, to even consider this course of action is to leave us no better then that deviant G'Koora Sect" shouted Magus Or-Tane, still fuming from being denied his verbal assault against Bratux.

With poise and focus Magus Khayiane continued, "Magus Bratux proposes the single largest offensive since Salandi himself, one which would leave many provinces defenseless. And what if he fails? The Irkanin Empire itself will be placed on the verge of collapse. And for what?" shaking his head Magus Khayiane continues, "We lack guidance in a most perilous time; we can ill afford a misstep of this magnitude. When, not if, the Avatar speaks, I for one would like to tell him that there is still an Empire for him to bestow his wisdom. So I say this: allow Magus Bratux his campaign, but allow only willing volunteers among the Assembly to join him. We can not begin to conscript our own as if they were Trolls and Goblins"

The Magi erupted in frenzied agreement, as the two Magi in the center circled each other their eyes locked and for that moment utter contempt passed between them. Magus Khayiane smiled and glided back to his lower seat near Magus Or-Tane.

"Well, Magus Khayiane if you were any more gifted as an orator I would pledge myself to you as the next Padishah." Magus Bratux spoke, his voice cheerful and winning smile beaming "Since my fellow Assemblymen have reached a consensus, I ask WHO will join me in subduing the Southern Region? This is our chance to reclaim our glorious Dwarven Birthright?"

Below Magus Khayiane and Or-Tane stood and watched the other Assemblymen, few seemed to move; each held firm resolve waiting for their neighbor to act.

"They would explode from the tension before making a move," commented Magus Or-Tane.

With a dry chuckle Magus Khayiane replied "Once you know how to motivate the Assembly to inaction, your enemies within must find few allies."

"It's a shame that Salandi outlawed the use of telepathy among our own, I would love to know what is running through his cunning little head right now." Looking up and shaking his head the Magus Or-Tane continued, "Will he ever end this rant?"

Magus Khayiane looked up to see that Magus Bratux had continued his speech of glory and natural expansion and innate supremacy to others within the Realm till many of the other Assemblymen were getting bored, but then as he finished his rant he spoke, "My fellow Magi, I will end my discourse by saying I will accept any volunteers, including the donation of here to untested constructs. I will then give each donor a full report of the construct's strengths and weakness in open conflict of a large scale." The Magus Bratux slightly bowed his head and began his descent to the lower seats.

"HA!" Magus Or-Tane mockingly laughed, "He is scrapping the bottom of barrel there"

"I would say shrewd," commented Magus Khayiane

"What?" asked Magus Or-Tane, "he is going after the fringe elements and offering them a chance to use experimental models in the field and before the testing board has finished with them no less. No, he will have made a couple of staunch enemies on the board now. It is nothing short of political suicide"

"Exactly, but he has gained supporters for no other reason for them to see their golems in the field of battle." Magus Khayiane shook his head in awe at the political maneuver. "There are more then a few young inventors that are frustrated with the bureaucracy of the Board of Testing."

Magus stood up and turned to the great door of the Irkinan Academy and glided out, muttering to himself "Shrewd indeed."

A Gathering Warhost Scene 3

The weather was beginning to turn; the oppressive heat was giving way to the cooling breeze that signaled the coming a rainstorm. The warhost continued its march as the thunder peeled overhead and heavy drops of water fell from the sky. Magus Khayiane watched from his command platform, hovering over the landscape, unseen by Bratux's Army below.

"We enter an unexpected phase of your training, Demi-Magus Oldus." With a wave of his hand the Magus activated a view screen within the command platform's controls.

"This looks to be images from within the warhost?" Oldus question

"Correct, several of Bratux's golems have been modified," chuckled the Magus

"Courtesy of a golem mechanic 'friend' no doubt?" queried Demi-magus Oldus

"And so Lesson One: always be kind to the underlings of those you despise" recited Magus Khayiane.

"While utterly ruthless to those under you," finished the Demi-magus "let fear paralyze them before the thought of betrayal can seed itself."

The Magus smiled, knowing the Demi-Magus knew all the Lessons of Tezla by heart "Correct."

"Why not expose Bratux to the Assembly?" asked Demi-Magus Oldus "They would stop this had they known he had an entire Wing of Seraphim"

"Yes" replied Magus Khayiane, "I'm sure they would, but that would only serve to drive his conspirators deeper into the shadows then they already are."

Looking into the view screen Demi-Magus Oldus saw the war host march with near endless rows of golems, turning to the Magus he asked "So this is not a bid to the throne for you?"

Magus Khayiane looked into the questioning eyes of the Demi-Magus and replied with controlled anger "What we do is for the glory of the Empire, the consequences of our actions are of little concern till we know that the Empire is secure." Shaking his head, Magus Khayiane continued "With the death of the Padishah, we must keep the peace until such a time that the Avatar is willing to choose a successor. We must put the needs of the greater good above the petty desires of other Magi and Nobles willing to defile the Empire for their own goals."

"A well drafted coronation address to the Assembly if I ever heard one," chided the Demi-Magus.

From their vantage in the sky the Magus and Demi-Magus watched the war host join with waiting golems at the city of Haresh. The golems fell in line with the warhost proper and the march continued. For three days the infantry and golems marched, never resting and never pausing regardless of the terrain, all along in the torrential rain common to the Southern Region in the spring.

"I see that the Free Tinkerers Society was able to contribute a few of their makeshift golems," commented Magus Khayiane as he stared into the view screen, watching from within the war host.

"A few?" gasped Demi-Magus Oldus "I see well over a hundred."

"Vulgar human loving rat-eaters," cursed the Magus "they hope a good showing will win them an Irkanin War Commission."

"Not likely, Bratux will no doubt use them as his first wave of shock troops," the Demi-Magus joked.

"Well" chuckled Magus Khayiane, "that might explain how this operation fails."

In a moment Demi-Magus Oldus met eyes and asked with deadly seriousness, "Can we be sure that the Fem Di'roth is right? We don't even know where he is getting his information. Look at that war host what could cause its downfall?"

"I thought you knew? Magus Khayiane asked. With a small laugh, reminiscent of a child opening a gift he said "That is why we are here personally."

Hubris Scene- 4

The war host had finally reached a valley, which leads to an Ancestral

Dwarven Mine shaft entrance. The infantry held their line and then the order was given, the golems charged up the steep roadway and battle was underway.

"I can not believe this," gasped Magus Khayiane, "he IS actually using those makeshift golems as shock troops." Below the makeshift golems lumbered up the roadway towards the mine, each step another blast from Troll musketeers ripped into the golden Dweomer armor plating of the golems.

"Those Troll muskets are shredding them," replied Demi-Magus Oldus. "How did he ever pass the tactical exams?" And with a wave of his hand the view screen changed to show the placement of troops within the landscape, reflecting on the layout the Demi-Magus continued. "He has them over powered and is throwing his men into a grinder, does he expect the Trolls to surrender the mine?"

"No, he expects his men to die" the voice came from behind the two men, a tell tale singsong voice filled the small enclosed platform. The Fem Di'roth Agent appeared out of the shadows, his skin giving off a slight glow and a serene smile held frozen on his face.

"The man is insane, he could be bombarding the fortifications with those Seraphim," The Demi-Magus's voice was filled with confused anger and a near blood lust.

"No, he is holding them back, waiting," the Magus muttered to himself. "Why let so many die for such a small prize, unless..."

The Demi-Magus retorted, "He is waiting for those retarded Trolls to shred his infantry."

"The Mine is more then it seems," the Magus replied

"He seeks failure," the Fem Di'roth stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes that is plain to see, but why?" asked the Magus.

"Well, at this rate he will have his failure and we will know why," stated Demi-Magus Oldus. Turning from the view screen to look at the Magus Oldus asked, "Are we going act? We must have the means to stop this needless slaughter that this madman has brought about with his power play?"

The Magus straightened to bring his head and shoulders to a more regal bearing, his voice took on a more grim and cold tone as he stated, "They die for the glory of the Irkanin Empire," then turning to face Demi-Magus Oldus, "Lesson Two: Every conflict is won or lost through the control of Information. No matter the outcome, the Empire will know what it needs to know to continue on as the greatest force in the Realm."

"Those that control the flow of information control the flow of society," commented the Fem Di'roth agent, "He who rewrites History need only worry about those who know the truth."

"With no evidence, or more importantly, no witness to the contrary how can one argue with the Victor?" finished the Magus as his eyes never looked away from that of the Demi-Magus.

"So you will see to it that all those below us die," asked Oldus as he shook his head in disbelief, "and then report back to the Irkanin War Academy that we arrived too late to stop the assault, but were able to prevent an even greater tragedy?"

"Yes," Magus Khayiane stated, "That is fairly accurate of what I have planned."

Below, the pace of the battle was slowing as the Trolls began to run low on ammunition and targets were becoming fewer to use them on. The three men stood at the view screen and watched as the last of the infantry was destroyed by the Troll Berserkers let loose form the Mine's interior fortifications.

"All those lives, wasted" stated a crestfallen Oldus.

"Death is a part of the cycle; it has its time and place." Stated the Fem Di'roth Agent, its immaculate voice never wavered, "it can never be avoided for long. It is the final step of this existence."

"A step that most men fear," interjected Magus Khayiane "and knowing what other fear is power, but the power to end ones life is an exercise of supreme authority."

"So the Authority of the Irkanin Empires grows in the death of its own?" Oldus asked his once youthful features, which beamed with naivety, were replaced with cold and callused lines of disgust. "Maybe the Trolls are not as retarded as I thought."

Ignoring the near traitorous remarks of Demi-Magus Oldus, Magus Khayiane stated, "Now, we wait to see Magus Bratux's supporters to appear."

The Betrayal- Scene 5

Almost on demand, the entrance to the Mine belched forth a viscous blackness and flooded out into the battlefield. The very stuff of shadows given solid form, it resembled a dark molasses given an unnatural speed and will. Engulfing Troll and Irkanin alike, the shadow tendrils began to dig into the bodies of the fallen, filling them till they were fat and bloated. The landscape below the command platform was void of features, only the undulating thrashes of the shadow rolling in upon itself could be seen.

The five Seraphim rushed towards the dark shadowy mass, the massive hover tanks seemed to take on a glow of their Dweomer plated armor. The blue-white flares of Mage-lightning erupted from the massive tank's head, unleashing a barrage into the dark mass. The Seraphim continued to move with ramming speed at the shadows, but as they hit the outer edge of the mass of darkness only Bratux's personal Seraphim passed into the shadow mass. The remaining Seraphim were held motionless in tendrils of darkness, slowing being engulfed.

"Great Salandi, what has happened?" exclaimed Magus Khayiane, shock and horror paralyzed his features. He watched in a daze as mystical energy shot out of the darkness only to be pulled back into the shadowy mass.

"Look, the edges are receding," observed Oldus. As the blackness was pulling back into its center those fat and bloated bodies were reveled, moving towards the remaining Seraphim.

"The Seraphim are silent," stated the Fem Di'roth. "Listen."

"If they are silent, what is making that noise?" asked a confused Magus.

The noise was a rumbling from within the ground, shaking and cracking near the entrance of the mine. The battlefield warriors tore at the now motionless Seraphim with tooth and nail; exposed bone and whips of sinew. Dweomer armor plates fell to the ground and the shadow filled warriors crawled in to seize the crews.

"It is a Lamprey," commented Oldus, "the Seraphim will be little more then empty husks, drained of life."

"A moment of defeat or another plot hidden within an enigma?" inquired the Fem Di'roth Agent, his face showed no surprise at the creature or the creation of an animated army now attacking the Fists.

"No, I think Bratux was double crossed in a ploy for power by his own

supporters," rationalized Magus Khayiane, forcing control and dignity to regain his composure; all the while his eyes never leaving the view screen.

"You think that the fool made a deal with the G'Koora Sect?" asked a bemused Oldus, his features darkening and his eyes taking on a glint of something sinister. The Mine entrance exploded with huge chunks of earth flying out, a moment later Darkness stood there. Oldus commented under his breath in awe, "Magnificent."

The Magus now looking to the Demi-Magus he had known for nearly two decades, astonished and disgusted, "What? It is an abomination." A near frenzy of fear washed over the Magus, "we must destroy it," shouted the Magus as he rushed to active the command platform's weapons.

"How does one destroy Negation?" Oldus demanded from the Magus, his eyes now a solid black and his skin gray with the pallor of death.

Stammering and confused at the changes in his student, Magus Khayiane said "Helios Bomb" and as the last word past from his lips he felt the blade. It slid through his back, slender and impossibly sharp, never touching the ribs and piercing his heart. Looking down at his chest and the glint of light coming off the blood-covered dweomer-steel the Magus began to giggle ever so slightly.

"When Bratux found the Mine too, I was a little worried" explained Oldus, "you see I put the Lamprey there in a Nilhilam prison when Salandi declared me rouge."

"And the Trolls?" gasped the Magus. Mystical energy danced over the wound still held open by the blade, trying to stop the wound from killing him. The Magus' mind forced his body to maintain his life, "And what of me, my 'good' friend?"

"I knew my wards would stop those pathetic Irkanin Geo-Scryers, but once the Mine was being used by the Trolls. Someone would notice." Oldus stated.

"Thanks to my Fem Di'roth allies," Oldus motioning behind the Magus, "You too learned of a rich source of unknown Nilhilam." Oldus' long dagger-like fingers spread wide, touching the Magus' head softly as he continued. "Besides, I needed someone to stop Bratux from getting the full support of the War Academy after he discovered the mine."

Slowly the fingers melted into the Magus's skull and a dark nimbus of energy vomited forth from Oldus' mouth and into the Magus. The Magus began to fill like a bloated tick, his eyes now pure black and his tongue on the verge out of his mouth. The body looked as if it would explode, but then the energies began to return to Oldus and the Magus was now being drained of his very essence. When the last of the energies returned to Oldus, a change had taken place that transformed him into Magus Khayiane. What remained of the true Magus could hardly be called a body, more a collection of bones held in place by taut skin and a mystical will to survive.

Grinning with his new face, Oldus leaned close to his former teacher and told him "I am the future," with a near maniacal giggle of excitement he continued, "the tragically 'defeated' army of Bratux will limp back to Shaka-Zal, and when at its very heart, the necrotized warriors will strike out. I will release the Lamprey on the very Irkanin War Academy that shunned me and those Seraphim will set the floating city ablaze." Stopping to reflect on his dream Oldus amended, "Except for the one that I'm giving the Fem Di'roth that is." And with a wicked smile, the newly formed Magus ripped his finders from the dry husk of a body. Still alive, the Magus looked at his counterpart and began to weep.

"Do not worry Magus Khayiane," spoke the Fem Di'roth Agent as he pulled his blade back with a sickening suction as it left the Magus' body, "your debt to us has been paid."