Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

“They say it protects them,” said Det. Kuzemchenko. He stabbed a smouldering butt into his ashtray for emphasis.

Sgt. Davis sipped incredulously at his cold coffee, the undissolved creamer gritting against his teeth. “Ridiculous. Those shambling corpses haven’t an ounce of self-awareness left.”

“They still say that this other undead protects them. Chases away folks out to burst braincases. It’s killed more than one of them, and it seems to have a lot more dexterity and skill than the others we’ve seen rising lately, especially with all the new wards.” Kuzemchenko tapped his computer screen. “We’ve got witnesses and statements.”

“So what’s that mean to you, then?” said Davis.

“I think we’ve got an undead vigilante on our hands. And I’m not quite sure what to do about it.”

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The Riddle Project believed that knowledge must be earned, but also believed that it must be preserved. The death of Sage Goris, the last being that knew the art of bibliomantica carceri, was their example. While the knowledge he possessed was priceless and was extinct upon his death, he has also used it selfishly and for ill ends.

Riddlemancers of the Riddle Project devoted themselves to preserving knowledge behind a series of riddles, puzzles, and other wards that would root out the unworthy. By the time someone had come to the wisdom needed to solve said conundrums, they would be worthy enough to wield it. Even allowing for dedicated students of evil, it was thought that theirs would at least be a subtle and long-gestating evil, the sort that builds empires, rather than the monomania that came so often with giving power to those with no experience of want.

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Member Seeking Group
Name:
Xela the Pusillanimous, chaotic neutral elf rogue

Age:
1,127

My self-summary:
I’m a free-spirited chaotic neutral elf-of-fortune who does whatever comes to her mind! I’m a crazy whirlwind of random destruction who just wants to watch the world burn, and I take my alignment VERY seriously!

What I’m doing with my life:
Taking time out from my busy day to rob, loot, steal, pillage, and burn because that’s what my character would do under those circumstances.

I’m really good at:
Robbing! I have a +10 bonus to stealth. Stabbing! I do 6d6 bonus backstabbery. Fire! I can cast one and only one low-level mage spell, Sparks!

The six things I could never do without:
-Fire
-PANTS
-Stealing
-Backstabbery
-PLASTIC BAG

I spend a lot of time thinking about:
NOTHING! I am SO random!

On a typical Friday night, I am:
Backstabbing a bartender for free drinks.

Member Seeking Group
Name:
Aquillarious, true neutral human sorcerer

Age: 25

My self-summary:
I am the long-lost heir to the kingdom of Zindak, seeking to reclaim my lost throne and my rightful place. I am also the descendant on my mother’s side of the Flametongue dragon clan, the youngest-ever leader of the Psyanyde Monks, and a noted teacher at the Pigrash Academy.

What I’m doing with my life:
I teach Spellcraft at Pigrash when I’m not caring for my magical menagerie of animal familiars wit stats who are all willing to die for me and also immortal. I also am on the lecture circuit.

I’m really good at:
Fighting, living, loving, heraldry, and magic. My natural magic bloodline is so strong that I was almost made the youngest-ever Headmaster of Pigrash Academy.

The six things I could never do without:
-My magical monkeys
-Teaching eager young minds how to be awesome
-My rockin’ pecs
-Not sleeping at all, ever
-Wenches in every town
-Nigh-invulnerability

I spend a lot of time thinking about:
How awesome I am

On a typical Friday night, I am:
Being awesome

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Group Seeking Member
Name:
Burnination Pals

Age:
18 months

Our self-summary:
Lumpy Wiggle-Axe, chaotic evil dwarf barbarian
Midnighty d’Ubreville, chaotic neutral tiefling sorceress
Lifty Lightfingers-McGee, chaotic good gnome bard
Fi’gr’in “Arrows” Da’an, chaotic stupid elf ranger

What we’re doing with our campaign:
Dying, mostly. WE NEED A HEALER! Somebody lawful, preferably lawful neutral, would also be nice to help keep the party’s pyromania in check. We’ve burned down 4 of the last 5 villages we’ve encountered.

We’re really good at:
Burning things, apparently. Stealing. Shooting things until they stop moving, sometimes enemies. Ignoring the DM’s carefully crafted campaign and focusing on random dirt clods for hours. Seduction.

The six things we could never do without:
-Fire
-Stabbing
-A HEALER FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY
-Fire again, somehow
-Stealing
-Seduction

We spend a lot of time thinking about:
Random details that started out as flavor text but MUST be important, so we will spend the next hour trying to steal/seduce/stab it, setting it on fire failing that.

On a typical Friday night, we are:
Fleeing hastily from a village we just “saved” from an orcish horde, hopefully before anyone smells the smoke.

Group Seeking Member
Name:
The Bloodening Rangers

Age:
2 months

Our self-summary:
St. Augusta Noblebosom, lawful good human paladin
Wayland O’Crien, lawful neutral dwarf cleric
Lygendir Arsestücken, neutral good elf wizard
Stabitha Skillmonkius, chaotic neutral halfling rogue

What we’re doing with our campaign:
Nothing, at the moment. We were taken prisoner after Paladin Noblebosom accidentally signed a contract exchanging us for hostages, and she has not allowed us to leave. RESCUE US!

We’re really good at:
Lawful stupid. Being imprisoned. Carving tally marks on the walls.

The six things we could never do without:
-Rescue
-A rescuer
-A DM who doesn’t paint themselves into corners
-Liberation
-Freedom
-Jailbreakery

We spend a lot of time thinking about:
Who will rescue us from a cage made of alignments and stupidity.

On a typical Friday night, we are:
IN PRISON SEND HELP

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Welcome to IFFY™, your source for handicrafts of extremely questionable quality! Here’s a variety of geegaws and trinkets that our algorithms have lovingly hand-curated for you!

Clothespin Reindeer – $3
Fun fact: they only make old-fashioned no-spring clothespins for craft project nonsense like this! Watch with amazement as google eyes, pipe cleaners, and hot glue combine to bring you $.37 of fun and us $2 of profit!

Pinecone Seed Bell – $5
Do you know what it takes to make suet? By hand? The kind of ardouous rendering of fat, bone, and flesh in order to create this gelatinous emulsion? Even if you do, in theory, you are not prepared for the smell of it. Seeds are easy. Pine cones are free for the taking. But my regret and the scent-ghosts of a thousand slaughtered hogs are in every dollop of this cursed fatty wax.

Origami Crane String – $22
See how they flit, delicate and fragile in a way no real crane ever could be (if you’ve ever tangled with one, you know). I was under-employed at a menial job doing night shift at a gas station this one time, and I started making paper cranes. Then I saw what people were selling them for on here, and I realized that I could make a better per-hour living with these bad boys. Sure beats being the only thing between desperate men with nothing to lose and the contents of the night safe.

Cut-Out of Lady in Bloomers Bending Over – $50
You know what it takes to make this? A jigsaw and some paint. But do you know who it takes to buy it? Lonely, desperate people, anxious to broadcast to the world that they are pleasant and have a sense of humor. But they only ever laugh at the jokes that are popular, they only ever go with the flow. The great log, dying but still in denial as it is borne down the flooded river to the coast – that is my customer.

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Knowledge is its own reward.

It matters not from whence the knowledge comes, for what ends it is used, or what is done with it. All that matters is that the information is truthful.

Gather information. Only by being gathered may it be protected.

Test information. Ever strive to ascertain what is true and what is false. Set aside the falsehood, keeping it only as a record of error.

Protect information. History is a series of wheat shoots, planted, growing, reaped, and burnt. Knowledge is the seed, and it must be shepherded through the burning. Every piece of information is a life spent collecting it, and every piece of information lost is an end to the immortality of its creator.

Knowledge is the only immortality of which the living can be sure. Protect it, add to it, and see to your own immortality.

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In all the ages of mankind, there has been holiness and there has been wickedness. Holiness springs from the Great Name, and the Nev, the one miraculous work he sang. Wickedness springs from that which would reinterpret his song, that which would garble it, and that which would contravene it.

What would reinterpret must be silenced, for there is only one interpretation of the Nev. What would garble must be killed, for only accurate singing may be permitted. That which would contravene it must be destroyed.

Thus, in all the ages of mankind to follow, there is and can only be the Nev, passed down orally from singer to singer. All other texts must be destroyed, for they will either contradict the NeV, in which case they are evil, or they will agree with it, in which case they are superfluous.

No man should possess more knowledge than he can gain in a lifetime. Any attempt to do this must be put to the flame, for there can only be the Nev and its singers forevermore.

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“But…you talk,” Corrie said.

“You’ll have to forgive me if it’s a little difficult to get around that,” I added.

Erroi spread his wings, perhaps the feathery equivalent of a shrug. “All right, then. Let’s get this out of the way. I’m a crow. I talk. Oooh. Call the circus to see if you can sell me. Call the king to see if he’ll offer gold.”

“I would’ve expected a parrot,” said Corrie. “I’ve known parrots who can talk.”

“I think a saw a talking budgie once,” I added.

“Really? Surely you’ve seen one of my brothers or sisters speak before,” Erroi said. “We can all do it, you know. Talk, that is. Parrots, I will confess, tend to be better. But they also have far less to say, so I feel we still come out ahead.”

“I think I heard about a crow that could croak ‘hello’ once,” I said. “It’s a long way from that to holding a conversation.”

“Well, okay, I will admit that I am better at it than most crows,” said Erroi, sounding like he was making a major concession. “My brothers and sisters tend to rely more on context, gesture, and nuance. But they can all understand, even if they’re not as good with speaking as I am.”

Corrie shook her head vigorously. “That’s like saying alll humans can fly a little bit while they’re falling, and then insisting a flying person isn’t all that remarkable.”

“All right. Oh-kay. I’m the best-talking crow there is. Maybe the best-talking crow there ever has been. I’m a genius at talking. Maybe it’s magic, maybe I’m a horrible mutant, maybe it’s just random chance. But I can do it. I’m here. We’re talking. Has the shock worn off yet?”

I looked at Corrie, with a little grin. “No, I’ll probably be going on about it for at least a week,” I said.

“I was thinking two,” she said.

“You two are murdering me here,” Erroi muttered. “And don’t either of you make a pun about that, either. We hear them all the time, and none of them are any good.”

“Hey, there’s no caws for alarm,” Corrie giggled.

“OKAY, THAT’S IT!

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There was no sign of the bus on the horizon, but he just kept right on talking. Staring straight ahead, hands buried in the pockets of his outsized overalls, the Battle-Flag-and-Eagle on his cap bobbing slightly.

“You gotta have good tools to get the job done. Good flashlight most of all. Maglite if you can get it. Light and strong. You can use it to blind critters if you’re fast on the twist.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “The aluminum makes them light and strong.” I felt I had to say something, even if I didn’t want to engage any further than I already had.

“Light and strong’s a good quality for a knife, too,” he continued. “I like a good knife that’ll hold up to hard use. Go in clean and deep. A bad knife’ll snag, get nicks on the blade, and they’ll get caught on bone. You take care of a good knife, it’s the most dependable friend you’ll ever have. Won’t talk back, always there for you, willing to do what you gotta do.”

We were the only two there, but the bus stop had never been more lonely or isolated.

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Pacifists & Paragons Module P2: OH, MY ACHING GIANTS!

The settlers of Shatterstone Valley have long had a peaceful detanté with the Shatterstone Band of hill giants – in return for tithes of food and clean water, the giants keep the peace along the northern border. BUT NO MORE! A rash of crippling arthritis attacks has paralyzed the giants, old and young alike, leaving the valley undefended and open the the depredations of the evil and hungry Marrowsplinter Band of giants to the north! Darker voices among the Shatterstone Peasants are afoot too, some saying that perhaps the time has come to be rid of the giants once and for all…!

Players will have to visit the tribes of giants to try and tackle their issues with joint aches and pains. But a thousand thousand years of tradition and toxic masculinity has made the giants unreceptive, even hostile, to medical aid. And how does a hot water cure work for an elephant-sized figure? The group will need to use their medical and anthropological skills to the utmost to render aid or risk being squashed to jelly. Ever try to intimidate a giant by pointing out how unattractive canes are? Be careful!

This P&P™ Adventure Module™ is suitable for player from level 2-5, and can be scaled for groups from 3-6. As with all P&P products, the only damage tables included are for use on YOU! Can you come to a pacifist solution to the crisis? We’d like to think so!

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