Friday, August 23, 2019

Carnival Xolthique

The Brother Spook: Awakened from his Mercurial coffin.

A lone turning carousal can be heard through swirling mists, it's off key music haunting. Red eerie incandescent diffused lights indicate the carnival just beyond.

The midways, and roller-coaster of the Xolthique attracts one and all. Here there are riches to be won through enticing games of chance and skill. Stroll the catwalks and wonder at the menageries of strange beasts and exotic creatures upon display. Exciting rides and an alluring fun-house elicit dreadful screams in exchange for coin. Will you dare a ride on the old wooden roller-coaster. This is a place of civic celebration, fortunes, and bizarre entertainment.

Here the ringleader brothers Grimz and Toil operate. Conjoined halfling twins who have learned to ever adapt in a harsh and uncaring world. Never welcome within any walls and often chased away due to their deformity, they have forged another path. The wonders of imagination keep the crowds coming and the brothers purses full.

This is a Carnival bar none. Populated and operated by the brothers clan of juvenile orphans. Castaways one and all. A rag tag group of the unwanted, collected by the brothers. Traveling from town to town, from castled keeps to citied walls. The curious are never in short supply. No one is really sure how many of the juvenile halflings skulk in the shadows between tents and side-shows along the midway. Their clown painted faces glimpsed out of the corner of the eye.

Beware the Charm of the music here.

Roller-coaster: At midnight once the Carnival has closed the halfling juveniles enjoy taunting the caged creatures and riding the roller-coaster or drinking on the carousal. At any given time there are 2d6 juvenile halflings riding the roller-coaster. The roller coaster presents a great ambush point for PC's should they wait until nightfall and utilize stealth.
In my campaign combat broke out while the PC's were riding the roller-coaster making for an exciting battle.

Carousal: 1d6+1 halflings can be found drunk, riding the carousal.

Menagarie: The barred cages contain all sorts of strange and exotic creatures from throughout the land, some of which are humanoid and intelligent. One cage contains a large, naked, muscular man. He has large yellow feral eyes, long wild hair and talons for finger nails. He is a Formulkin. A dire Hyena like creature that can take human form. He understands basic speech and forms simple sentences in a guttural voice, composed mainly of grunts. Formulkin require the moons light for transformation between forms.

The halflings are Glibs one and all. Pilferers of a most important commodity. Information. Even more enticing then the midways themselves are the Ale Gardens where the most fantastical brews and honey rose mead's are served. A taste superbly exquisite and without equal, famous throughout the lands. The recipes are of course a heavily guarded secret known only to the halfling ring leaders. The truth serum that is added at no extra cost ensures that information is very forthcoming and falls liberally from the tongues of patrons. The Halfling Glibs stay current on all happenings in the land. 

The Clan spike their wonderful refreshments with a truth serum they manufacture from the milk of a Giant Beetle. They also sell and trade Chitta Boom. A black, egg shaped chitin grenade. The Eggs contain two chambers each housing a different color of resin that is excreted from a Giant Beetle the halflings keep. The Beetle excretes a milky white substance at night (used to spike the drinks) while during the midday it excretes a black resin immediately after a feed.

The halflings form the Eggs from Chitin Scales, harvested from the Giant Beetle while it sleeps. They use a tree sap to seal a chamber divider into place within the chitin egg. Once tossed the inner chamber breaks and the two resins mix causing an explosion that sends chitin shrapnel flying. A wick fuse can also be used to light the Chitta Booms. The heat form the fuse melting the inner divider causing the resins to mix. Lighting the fuse causes a delay in the explosion.
Having an uncanny knack for tinkering some of the youngsters have even shown a talent as Picks and have managed to obtain an Orbix. The ancient relic stolen from a once proud Wizard, more often than not given to the drink and a highly regarded patron who keeps the the carnival coffers full. 

The Orbix core is symbiotically attached to a third brother who's body lies hidden within a heavily guarded tent. The brother Spook unwittingly awakened the Orbix and what remains of his body is encased within a large Mercurial plated coffin to contain the power he emanates, it's gravity crushing. His limbless body, and barely recognizable features consumed and transformed by the power of the Orbix that even now attempts to form writhing tendril limbs from a multitude of silver silk like threads. Know-one dares go near the Orbix due to the frightening power it omits. Only the brothers alone, Grimz and Toil brave go near so they may gently sooth what remains of their younger brother into following their instructions. They understand that the power of the Orb requires a host and also that their brother is slowly being transformed into something else, and they fear what is to come.

Giant Beetle: The Giant Beetle is actually a conjunction infant. It is attracted to and captivated by the Orbix relic the halfling Brothers Grimz and Toil have in their possession and thus it chooses to serve them for the time being. Ever in their company, it follows them as it matures and experiences the world around it. It follows any order dictated by the halfling Brothers as it wishes to maintain close proximity to the Orbix drawn to the inherent power it possesses. The Beetle is used like a pack mule to ferry the carnival components around the land.

Each morning the Halflings dig up the multitude of eggs the Giant Beetle has deposited into the ground. It is from these eggs that those that work the carnival take sustenance. It has also granted the Halflings slight magical abilities. They have enhanced speed, hear noise, and hide in shadow abilities. As well as a +2 to initiative.

Halfling Ringleaders: Grimz & Toil. Conjoined twins who have led a very ruff life. They have had to scrape by and suffer far too many abuses. Discarded in the trash as toddlers they were traded from sideshow to side show. Suffering abuse after abuse. They have never known life outside the carnival. After orchestrating the previous owners accidental death and purchasing a forged will naming them sole owners, the brothers now run the show.

Wants: Information, for information is true power. At their word they are able to seed thoughts, implant ideas and guide events in the world. The right information at the right time has been the undoing of many a great noble and even city state rulers. Not to mention the wars. The brothers have been responsible for the election of many of the leading power figures in the smaller baronies. Their enemies are few.

Roleplaying: The brothers active listeners who ask subtle probing questions with honey laced tongues. They speak in such a way as to inflate ego's referring to everyone as, liege, lord/lady, hero, strong one, brave one. Always feigning modesty and humility. They are always listening and paying close attention to body language. Adept at recognizing lies. (3in6 chance). The brothers will gladly offer up information in exchange for their lives and know the land very well.


Juvenile Halflings
hiding in the shadows will attempt to swarm the PC's and use blowguns containing laced Sleep darts or Paralyze darts.

Darts: Save vs Poison. On a failed save PC's will fall asleep or become paralyzed the next round (being permitted one more turn). If hit by two or more darts no save is permitted.

The Orbix
core is used to power the carnival and if combat ensues at night the halflings will cut the power, casting the carnival and the battlegrounds into complete darkness. This will awaken the brother Spook and bring events to his awareness, causing him to engage in combat.

Spook: Draped in a tattered tarpaulin. White milky eyes housed within a gaunt face of silver flesh. His limbless body is carried by countess silver threads that erupt and waver from his shoulder and hip sockets, propelling his mobility in a fluid writhing manner. 
Attacks: Spook attacks with piercing threadlike tendrils for 2 attacks at 1d6-1 damage each. If both attacks are successful the threads attempt to cocoon the target by pouring over and around it causing immobilization (save to escape). While enemies are immobilized by the tendrils, the threads will enter inside the body via open cavities causing 1d6+1 damage per turn until death.
Movement: 12
Special: Puppet: Spook will use his inserted tendrils to take control of and operate any dead bodies in a 20ft. vicinity.
Gravity blast: A crushing wave of gravity that does 2d6 damage. 120 ft radius. Save for half damage.
Anti Gravity: Target is lifted 20ft into the air and suspended until dropped for 2d6 damage. 60 ft radius.

If the halflings are unsuccessful in subduing the PC's they will attempt to draw the PC's away from the carnival and use Chitta Boom grenades on them, caring not for whether the PC's live or not.

Grenade: 1d6+1 damage in a 15ft blast radius (save for half damage). 2hp of damage if within 30ft feet of blast.

Subduing PC's: The halflings main goal is to subdue the PC's whereupon the PC's will be feed a strong Truth serum so that the Brothers Grimz and Toil can extract as much information as possible before feeding the players to the Giant Beetle. The juvenile halflings then squabble amongst themselves over any items the players were carrying.

(Note: Halflings in Almost are born of human parents and considered human but born abnormally small. They would look like your average 5 year old in terms of height and proportions. They are shunned in society.)

Sunday, August 11, 2019


The Darkmoors: Deep within the basements of Zygax Industries lies a mine with tracks that lead ever deep. At the end of the tracks lie the Darkmoors, a lake of pure Viridium (the blood of dead gods). Reflected within it's waters, a large city on a crimson horizon that shines like sunlight on gold. With towers of impossible angles outlined in twilight skies. Their are living constructs of rusted iron, taller than the highest towers, that cast long shadows over the city as they skulk slowly about. There are stars that are much to large and hang far too close over the city, as if waiting to be plucked from the blood red sky. These stars have eyes. To see them runs shivers down ones spine. This is Mechranopolis, it's banner filled streets brimming with the parading armies of small strange mechanical beings. The city has no end and no beginning once entered. It stretches on add infinitum. This is the dying City of Iron Gods, born from stars, now they rust and wither.

Mechranopolis is reached by complete submergence in Darkmoor Lake. The Lake serves as a portal between worlds. One Modron will pass into the world of Almost for every PC who passes through the portal. A one to one exchange to maintain balance.

Should players enter Mechranopolis and return, have them make a save upon exiting the waters. On a failed save they shall no longer cast a shadow. The Modrons will have captured it. This leads to great future adventure possibilities and a reason for return to Mechronopolis. Perhaps the PC's may even discover and seek audience with Mechronos, the great builder. 

Sunday, June 16, 2019

The Forest Of Wasn't

If ever there was, there wasn't. It is here the Dark Whale once chained roams his forest. An elder god descended from the stars in exchange for a bargain, his chains now cast off.

A dark and menacing forest that roams, appearing just beyond town walls under cover of night. It was never there before. 

First the whispers start, then the fear. The brave ones venture into it never to return. Their are strange sounds and sweet smells that issue from within it. The sounds of children laughing and something, something calling through the lure of twilight songs. It bewitches the children whisking them away by night. One day it was and the next is wasn't.

Never in the same place twice the Forest Of Wasn't roams the lands by moonlight covering great distances. It comes for the children, to disepell their fears and maintain their innocence.

Deep within lie the ruins of Zygax Industries, forgotten laboratories where genetic experiments were once carried out utilizing a combination of what the ancients called science and forbidden blood magics. It is within the basements of the laboratory that a gateway to another world was torn open. Its inhabitants now roam the hallways and depths of this forgotten place. There are things that stir here, creatures left unfinished.

Places within:

The stream of ones: A lone small stream unimaginably deep. Filled with 4ft. long coy that possess a single large cyclopean eye on top of there heads. Below them there are faces and hands that reach. These are the drowned. Whenever a coy locks it eye on PC, that PC must pass a Save or fall victim to a sleep spell. Should the PC fall into the water they shall drown in 1d4-1 rounds and join the faces below. 

Mr. Gallows Hut: Here in his hut Mr. Gallows ponders a way out of the forest he just cannot seem to escape. He cant remember how long he has been trapped here only that he wants out, and he is oh so very lonely, desperate for a friend. He has trapped many an adventurer here. His tea is refreshing and his pastries wonderfully delicious. Just don't eat to much or you too shall become a friend who never leaves and join the others who now sway from the branches above. Like Mr. Gallows always says " my friends like to hang."

In his loneliness he has taken up doll making having found a way to give them life. If one looks close enough their skin appears so real, decorated with makeup and sweet smelling perfumes.
These he refers to as his children.

Wants: To leave the forest for good or at the very least gather a new friend to laugh at his jokes and admire his dolls. His children.

Roleplay: English accent, jovial,always laughing at his own jokes. Very interested in how and where Pc's entered the forest.

(Think Martin Short from the Santa Clause 3.)

The Great Oak: The largest tree of the woods, the mighty oak. Whose large branches reach out over a large waterfall that drops far below into the older, darker parts of the woods. From its long, large branches hang the bodies of dozens. Those that came for the children. The sound of taunt rope swaying in the winds offers the only sound to break the thick silence encountered around the tree.

Sundial: A large stone sundial takes up over 30ft. of the forest floor. The craftsmanship is exquisite displaying the constellations above. Here lies a puzzle and the key to entering the laboratory whose large Iron doors stand sealed just beyond.

Zygax Industries: A laboratory carved into the cliffs. Its levels descend deep. Rooms filled with an ancient forgotten technology and tomes of forbidden magic are collected here. Strange creatures submerged in deep vats and large fluid filled tanks filled with  humanoid beings.
There are things not of this world within it's basements and beware the things that are.

The Darkmoors: Deep within the basements of Zygax Industries lies a mine whose tracks lead ever deep. At the end of the tacks there's a moor and lake of pure Viridium. Reflected within it's waters is a large city far on a crimson horizon. With towers of impossible angles outlined in the twilight and constructs of rusted metal. There are stars that are much to large and hang far too close over the city, as if waiting to be plucked from the blood red sky. To see it runs shivers down ones spine. This is Mechronopolis, city of the star born Iron Gods. It's infinitum, banner filled streets brimming with the parading armies of strange shaped beings.

Sunday, May 26, 2019

The Fear Of Sorrows

Do not fear for it shall consume you cold. Frozen haunted wastes of heavy snowfalls. The cry of sorrowed winds constantly attack the ears in hopes that some may listen. These are merely ghosts, revenants. It is here in this haunted tundra known as the Fear Of Sorrows that tortured souls still linger. Ancient Colossal bodies of winged serpents lie buried beneath the snows, frozen in time, shaping the landscape around them while the undead Winter Lord roams shackled amongst the Frost Graves.

Features: White out, blizzard conditions.  Deep, snow covered grounds and haunting, screaming winds that blow savage. What hills exist are the frozen remains of once colossal winged serpents. The Winter Lord roams shackled amongst the Frost Graves, legacy to a long dead race of Frost Giants.

Areas of note: 

The Pens: The slave pens of the Duke. Situated around a hill below which a natural hot spring keeps the snows at bay. Here the power emanating from the Sword of Nine Hells grants a sanctuary of immunity from environmental conditions.

The slaves are all chained to one another in groups of six and fastened to anchors of stone built into the hill itself. Dozens are crammed into small pens where the weakest die from being crushed or trampled.

The Frost Graves: The City of graves. The last remaining legacy of a long dead mighty race of Frost Giants buried with their treasure troves and relics. An icy city of mausoleums and burial chambers.

Encounters: 1d6

1. Freezing Blizzard. 1d6-1 damage per round if no precautions are taken.

2. Revenants
She of Sorrows
HD 5; AC 19 [0]; Atk 1 strangulation (save or die in 1d6 rounds) 
Move (Fly 12); Save 12; XP 600
Special: Magic Resistance (3in6 chance), magic or silver weapon required to hit, strangles (upon successful hit, save or die of sorrow in 1d6 rounds).

She of Fears
HD 5; AC 19 [0]; Atk 1 Impale (save or die in 1d6 rounds) 
Move (Glide through snow 12); Save 12; XP 600
Special: Magic Resistance (3in6 chance), magic or silver weapon required to hit, Impales with her swords causing internal freezing (upon successful hit, save or die of fear in 1d6 rounds as body completely freezes).

remove curse spell will break the creature’s hold during this time period. Protection from evil spells will hold these creatures at bay. Anyone strangled/impaled by a Revenenat will rise as a Revenant within 1d6 days. 

3. Graals.
HD 1-1; AC 13 [6]; Atk 1 weapon (1d6); Move 9; Save 18
XP 15; Special: -1 to hit in sunlight.

4. Winter Wolves.
HD 5; AC 14 [5]; Atk 1 bite (1d6+1); Move 18; Save 12 
XP 400; Special: Breathe frost.
Special:Winter wolves can breathe frost at a range of 10ft, blasting anything in front of them in a wide area for 3d6 points of damage (save for half). This ability can only be used once every other turn (requiring 1 turn to recharge). Winter wolf pelts are very valuable (1d6 x1000gp).

Image result for winter wolves d&d

5. Hands of the fallen.
HP 2; AC 10; Atk Clutch; Move None; Save: 18
 Clutch. Once a hand has gotten a hold of something it will not let go until reduced to 0 hp or magically released. Frozen animated hands that clutch at your ankles under the cover of snow. On a failed Save PC's are immobile while clutched and until they find away out of the grips of the hands. 

6. The Frozen Brave. The last brave adventuring party to come this way now stand frozen in place. Fear and sorrow forever captured on their faces. Their Revenants now haunt the tundra.

Major Encounters: 

The Duke & The Sword Of Nine Hells. The Duke stands 12 feet tall and uses the sword as his primary means of attack. The sword itself unleashes devastating attacks drawing power from the first Hell, The Plains of Azoth. 

The Queen of Swords. Once the Duke is reduced to half hit points he uses his remaining strength to summon the Queen of Swords, gatekeeper of the Bardo (9 hells). 

She emerges from the great blade, summoned by her keeper. Filling the sky as nine bloodied swords each as large as castle towers, revolve around her dripping crimson. Each carrying the weight of the world within it. Nine hells for nine blades. She can draw on each of the nine swords, themselves possessing unique powers derived from their respective hell. Each will need to be defeated if one hopes to battle the Gatekeeper herself.

The Winter Lord. Bound to the Frost Graves by unbreakable magical shackles, engraved with Stygian Runes. An undead Frost Giant who carries the Claw of Winter, which causes harsh winter conditions and sub zero temperatures in a 50 mile radius. His primary weapon is a large ball and chain forged from the scales of a metalic dragon. It has a 30 foot reach. Beware the sounds of chains within the snowfall. Should you hear them run! For if you don't, you are already dead!

Saturday, May 11, 2019

Murder of Crows

It is a bad omen when a murder of crows is spotted in the sky. Amongst those who know it is said that while conjunction magics emerge swarms of crows will fill the skies arranging themselves into strange shapes, and patterns, behaving oddly. Those that search for Conjunction Infants follow the crows. It is believed that the first Conjunction Infant was a crippled crow and that he can be glimpsed in the shadows of a particular type of large dead tree found in the southlands.

Crows are symbolic of magic and prophecy throughout the world and the Cult of the Crow is one of the Largest and most powerful.

A Murder of Crows

AC: 10 (9)
HD: 4
ATTACKS: Peck or claw for 1 damage.
SPECIAL: Swarm for 1d6+1 damage
MOVE: 24
XP: 100

Jitterack Trees

A Jitterack Tree. Painted by a long time player.

Long, black windswept hair hides the desirous white faces of the sisters. Long tongues obsessively tend to their hair keeping it neat and smooth in appearance. Each identical in voice and appearance. When not bickering amongst themselves or engaged in heated argument and shouting matches they are silent. And one hears the sound of a symphony of chattering teeth rising in waves of crescendo giving any who hear the Jitters and the goosebumps that follow.

Jitterack trees are scattered throughout the land in desolate places and lonely wind swept plains. Each tree posses the same indistinguishable faces and personalities. When they don't get what they want they resort to screaming and extreme verbal abuse.

AC: 15 (4) faces 17 (2)
HD: 7
ATTACKS: Strike (with branches) 2d6 damage.
SPECIAL: Can use their tongues to lash out and choke on a successful attack. 1d6+1 damage as three tongues wraps around a players neck choking him.
On a successful attack the Jitterack will attempt to hang a player  reducing them to 0 hp in 1d6-1 rounds. The Jitterack will then devour the body and the PC will become a new face on the tree.
MOVE: None. Reach 10ft with branches or tongues.
XP: 600

Wants: Trinkets, a kiss or jewelry. Something to make one special and different from the rest. This is status.

Roleplay: Seductive and overly nice at first. Verbally abusive when they don't get what they want. Always worried about their hair being messy.

Vairocana the Dweller


Wise beyond ages, Vairocana dedicates herself to plummeting the depths of creation in search of one answer that allude. If everything in the universe is interconnected as though it were one big web, then who spun the web that has no weaver? She travels the voids from which the womb realms were spun seeking truth. She is connected to all things in all times and places. Knowledge alone drives her to obsessive seeking.

Once she was a ranking Mistress of Bordello with full control of the district of Pag Yang, where every desire could be bought or bartered. Always inquisitive she led a life of extreme indulgence pushing the boundaries of the flesh and the ecstasies it could endure until she experienced something that could only be deemed an awakening. A deep realization that all is connected.

Abandoning everything she walked out of the city never to return. She made her way to the Tumors where while absorbed in physical ecstasy she attracted the emerging magics of a conjunction and thus she was claimed, a conjunction infant of pure physical ecstasy with a highly inquisitive nature seeking the one truth to the most elusive questions about life. Now bearing a form through which to express, seek and experience.

The magics she radiates have turned the rocks and lands around her into a living,pulsing, growing mass of fungal tumors. She has attracted many followers and acolytes.

Wants: The answer to the question. Who spun the web that has no weaver?

Role Playing: Like a grandmother speaking to her most beloved grandchildren. She speaks slowly with long drawn out pauses and often with a vacant demeanor as though her mind were elsewhere. Very little concerns her.

An Acolyte of Vairocana. Painted by one of my longtime players.

Graals aka The Slavers

Graals. The Dukes Slavers.

Graals are servants of the Duke. Pale skinned Slavers with a dislike for sunlight. Once human but there proximity to the Sword Of Nine Hells has twisted them making them aggressive and primitive. All fear the Graal for they take those they want. Particularity the young and strong. They travel by night seeking shelter during the day.

AC: 13 (6)
HD: 1-1
ATTACKS: Weapon (1d6)
SPECIAL: -1 In sunlight

XP: 15

Wants: To please The Duke and 
one day to posses his sword.
Roleplay: Shifty eyes and gruff snarly speech.

A Graal on a Dire Rat
Dire Rat
AC: 13 (6)
HD: 4
ATTACKS: Bite (1d4) or Claw (1d6)
SPECIAL: Filthy claws 
(requires save) or poisoned
MOVE: 18
XP: 130

The Duke

Frozen haunted wastes of heavy snowfalls. The cry of sorrowed winds constantly attack the ears in hopes that some may listen. These are merely ghosts, revenants. It is here in this haunted tundra known as the Fear Of Sorrows that the Duke sits upon his throne, tending to his slave pens, extending his reach into the lands beyond. The atmosphere around him is carnal and oppressive. The Duke alone controls the slave trade and remains unchallenged. From his throne his Graals scour the land for slaves, taking those deemed worthy. For he possesses the Sword Of Nine Hells, and their are none who can defeat him.

The Duke. Painted by one of my players.
The power of the sword has consumed and twisted him making him Godlike. But he is only powerful so long as he possesses the sword.
He never stands, always sitting upon his throne amusing himself as slaves are forced to perform vile acts upon one other.

His once human body has grown unable to contain the power of the sword. Now it calls to others, luring them to the Fear Of Sorrows to challenge the Duke or steal away the sword. For the Queen of Swords desires a new lover.

Wants: To be feared by all. Bow down before him for he is no ones equal.

Roleplay: Deep, low voice that sounds like rust. Extremely suspicious, for everyone wants his sword.

The Duke

The Sword of Nine Hells

"Now hear my creation
which you have failed
I shall devour you
questions and all"

The Queen Of Swords

She emerges from the great blade, summoned by her keeper. Filling the sky as nine bloodied swords each as large as castle towers, revolve around her dripping crimson. Each carrying the weight of the world within it. Nine hells for nine blades. She is the Queen of Swords and the gatekeeper of the Bardo. Should she devour you, you will never know death but shall come to fear life. For life in each of the nine hells is timeless and everlasting, all is undying. There is no escape. 

Death holds no power in the Bardo, only the pain and trauma leading up to it. The first Hell are the Plains of Azoth. Most within  it's grey dreary lands have died a hundred thousand deaths hoping for escape. There are barrows here, endless graves full of the living, timeless and ancient. They have secrets worth knowing.

Sunday, May 5, 2019

Skin Smiths & Flesh Alteration

Alteration of flesh and limb while looked down upon is very common. The quality of the craftsmanship can vary.
Providing fresh flesh can dramatically reduce the costs of materials.

The PC suffers permanent scarring from the surgery which cannot be healed.

The Skin Smiths of Favors Market

Body Part
Performance Time
Cost (sp)
1 hour
1 hour
1 hour
3 hours
6 hours
*Additional Eye
2 hours
New Face
1 hour
*Additional Arm
6 hours
3 hours

* A failed saving throw results in being reduced to 0 HP and requires a Death saving throw.

Sunday, April 28, 2019

Death & Dismemberment

I love to use dismemberment in my games and especially in Almost as I find it really drives play at the table. There is nothing like a bargain with a Skin Smith to regain a limb to launch a few good adventure sessions. 

When a PC is reduced to 0 HP I have them make a Death Saving Throw- If a player is successful on making their Death saving throw they are unconscious and have 1d4 rounds to receive aid or be stabilized by another PC. If they are stabilized I have them roll 1d6 and consult the table below.

Dismemberment Table

1.   Loss of Eye           

2.   Loss of Hand       
3.   Loss of L. Arm    
4.   Loss of R. Arm   
5.   Loss of L. Leg     
6.   Loss of R. Leg     

Vehicles (Airships, Balloons, Moons & More)

Vehicles- Airships, Balloons, & Moons

Throughout the world of Almost player will come across various vehicles that can be commandeered. Most vehicles are relics of a distant un-remembered past. One thing that is known and understood about them is that they are all powered by magic and need constant fueling by it.

Vehicles can be very dangerous to pilot and are piloted by forming a symbiotic link through spinal tap with the vehicles Orbed neural core (Orbix), a brain like creation of alien technology fused with machine relics and magic.

The link is formed by sitting in the vehicles central chair, whereupon brass threadlike tendrils issue forth from the Orbix embedding and weaving themselves into the nerves along the spine forming symbiotic connection with the pilot. The pilot is able to physically feel the whole vehicle and see through the Orbix Central core as well as through his/her own eyes.

Piloting a vehicles usually leaves the pilot with some sort of physical marker after dissengaging with the Orbix core. This mark is permanent. 
(I usually let the player describe the mark)

Although Archanics usually have the best chance at piloting (+4 to save), anyone can attempt the link with a successful saving throw. Those that fail to link with the Orbix suffer a condition of GM's choice either temporarily or permanently depending on the dice roll or GM's discretion. (I usually use paralyzed, poisoned or add insanity)

Fuel sources for Vehicles include- Viridium, artifacts, flesh contaminated. Anything that contains magic like properties can be fed to the Orb core to fuel it, that includes the flesh of those that wield Ruathian and Magic users who tap into the decaying magic of the Dead Houses.

Spells as fuel. Spells can also be used to fuel a vehicle but may or may not provide enough fuel. Experimentation will be needed to determine what spells work and their potential side effects once cast on the Orbix will be needed