Clubbing people in the back of the head is also magic

Just lots of fighting in the theatre.

Guys go to Everyman, go down to the bar.

Harry Flash chats to bad guys about magic, they give him a camera and ask him to take pictures of the ensuing fight.

A fight begins. Carter picks up a table and slams it into a guy. Platypus vaults bar and punches another. Pulls out two 'magic wands' (guns) and miraculously manages to shoot the weapon out of a guys hands shouting 'maaagic'.

Brawling. Platypus persistently missing. Carter beats the shit out of people. Two civilians die from shuriken cannon rebound rounds. Bad guy snatches gun out of Harry's hands, gun just fired last round. Platypus reaches across bar and punches guy in back of head. Harry once again goes Chow Yun fat and amazingly hits two guys. Team manage to beat the shit out of Ceasar Flickerman. Tie him to a chair.

Harry remembers he has a camera. Team spends some time taking selfies with captive. Decide to go upstairs to theatre. Find Gustav Shnieder directing his play with more Capitol Haircut Guys.

pure evil

ANOTHER FIGHT BREAKS OUT.

Platypus has a very Frank Miller fight,

 
 takes lots of damage, suffers. Duels three guys in the centre of auditorium. Is shot through the heart simultaneously by multiple harlequin-kiss weapons. Survives. Tries summoning SLEMEN via ghost mark. amazingly succeeds.

Carter has Jack kirby fight.

 
Mainly stays in one place picking people up and throwing them across room. Enlarges self in hulk-like manner again.

Harry Flash has Beano-like fight.

 
Fails to shoot own gun. Nails baddy with shuriken fire. Helps godel with 'Enlarge'spell. Psychic duel with goth girl sends him punched out of scene "like a really arty panel from We3". Arrives back in scene as Goth Girl is hit by compatriot being thrown across the room by Carter. Successfully smacks downed women in back of head with gun, taking her out of the fight. Then shot through heart by monofiliment and starts dying. Currently has two rounds to live, Carter will get there in one.

Meanwhile, SLEMEN battles Shneider in ideaspace. Both neutralise each other with various conceptual tricks. in last round Selmen gains advantage and Schneider pulled onto stage of own play and made part of the  story.

End in media-res. back after christmas probably.

Always Betray Everybody

Otherpool Session Five - Guns Are Magic

Present - Harry Flash (Lvl 1 Wizard) James Young, Dark Platypus and Carter, Rune Knight.

Godel moved through time and space by "The Scottish Man" inter dimensional Otherpool demigod who shifts people around, across genres and around their own time streams in order to produce ironic and post modern effects. Arrives a few hours before other self. Currently in Chester and also being chased through streets of Otherpool.)

(Nigel Reptile locked in sliver of time with demonic gun by The Scottish man until Zak turns up in future game.)

THE SCOTTISH MAN

Goel immediately punches naked Scottish police captain and knocks him out. Summons 'Slemen' through Ghost Mark, Slemen confused as just about to meet him in Otherpool. Godel and harry hide in house while Carter Deals with police Sergent Willy Russel.

Sgt Russel is a good man

Carter travels with police to Darkplace Hospital

Meets Dr Rick Dagless (MD) and engages in seance. Little information received. Platypus and Wizard look for clues (rob the house of police captain, drink his booze, steal his clothes) and get cab to Liverpool. Platypus explains about heroism.

In Darkplace police still perma-baffled re Fucking Assassin Olympics going on out here. Fitz now trusts Carter as only competent super hero he's ever met.

Kurt Kanada, Science reporter, warned by Ray Charles (Craig's Dad) that more bad guys coming to clean house. Heroes hang around for a bit. Multiple assassins enter. Heroes decide to follow.

Big fight with Hipster/Gangsters and Posh Punisher

very heavily armed

murdering fucks with shuriken weapons

 Our heroes fail to save life of large number of police officers or unconscious phasing assassin but do safe police captain and a hot girl. Multiple people shot by glue guns. Wizards casts 'enlarge' and hides behind desk with borrowed pistol he thinks is magic wand shouting "I can do magic!". Platypus used body of woman as shield and goads Hipsters into shooting her by mocking their favourite Indy bands (poor roll by DM plus no knowledge of modern bands). Gunplay, murder. Heroes prevail and bad guys flee or captured.

Sgt Russel arrives, knows where thugs are, too scared to take them on alone. Drives group to lair. Platypus senses energy inside...

"Dark Energy"

(The play on production her is Gustav Schieders 'Cyberpool Trilogy' Actually based on events of previous game group in Cyberpool, other alternate liverpool.)

bad connection, tiredness and dry mouth end play.)

Lazy Image Post

No time today so here is are a series of images STOLEN from the UK series of D&D modules.

This is UK1, Beyond the Crystal Cave

 

 Better version here.

UK4, When A Star Falls

 

 

UK5, Eye Of The Serpent

UK7, Dark Clouds Gather

Now that you have read through all that. I have to take a few days off from my crazy duelist story but if anyone has any insane writing challenges they want me to do with that story (Rhythm, metre, heroic couplets, point of view, specific genre, anything) then let me know and if they are at all interesting I will try and go through them one by one.

Demonic Incursion Described Through Environmental Change Only

Contrails knot briefly in the air describing disastrous impacts from parallel earths.

The knotting intensifies, fresh sky-lines seep out of the blue.

The sky fills for a second with every possible disaster from every imagined world.

Packed-in simultaneous crash marks make a flickering second dawn like the rising of a predatory alien sun.

A skyburst of inverted antiverse electromagnetism ignites every streetlamp in a radial mile.

The sodium filaments burn negative-image black and the blackness surges for a moment like waves from an unlikely tide breaching the defences of a shore.

Inside the colour-swap zones hanging from each lamp like burning flags, teeth and eyeballs gleam like polished jet. Pupils, bruises and sensible shoes shine like full moons.

Often-invisible citysmog clogs like scabbed-up blood around the daemons claws.

Catalytically converted carbon oxides forming the cities ultralight fullerene shell react badly to the active touch of livings things from beyond any possible existence.

They bunch into oily scabwound snowflakes and drift from the creatures mid-air footfalls in a toxoclastic rain.

Pigeons feel the magnetic weft of the world spinnereting.

Flocks lose their cohesion.

Abandoning their rigorous sense for distance, movement and time.

Birds approach too close, land on, and fly through crowds, they flee invisible threats and dash upwards into the faces of commuters, under papers, into cars and cribs.

The death-addicted winds that endlessly ride the sides of buildings and the fronts of trains, waiting for a suicide, snap round.

Their feeder-tendril zephyrs taste the air.

Semi-gales converge from every side, whipping through the rooftops, making the wires hymn, heading all towards the central spot.

The daemon gasps out breaths with semi-independent life.

Doomed, these wraiths fall dying with each fresh exhale.

They stink of burning plastic, old fireworks and bad wounds.

Each dying vapour, born embryonically curled, awakes on exiting the mouth, grows eyes and features, realises its fate, and screams.

Aware of its inevitable entropic dispersal it watches limbs form and drift apart like soap dissolving in a bath.

Remnants of them sucked back in upon the next drawn breath.

People hear the parasites on their skin and everyone senses the scurry of rats beneath the street.

Movements always present but ignored, wiped from our awareness by the homophone world.

Now the rat claws sound like train-tracks and our voices and screams are the piping of bats.

Death winds flank the daemons walk and tread the duellists skin on his approach.

Contrary vapours shiver in his clothes and tangle up his near-black hair.

A puddle holds the footfall of the red track-suited man just as he turns, portraiting the daemons form.

A fragment of grey sunlight hits his scalp, a

Turkish Rug Adventure Design Idea

I know a5 is good for use at the table and a4 is good for images and certain kinds of information design and harder to flip through at the table.

Has anyone ever done a3 or a2 for use *as* the table, or at least laid over the table?

The adventure would be arranged in a kind of compass fashion and so that parts could a obscured and the whole thing not lost, like a naturalistic adventure

Depending on where people sat they would get an immediate access (a better view) of certain parts of it. (You might suggest that if people like playing a certain way they sit in certain place or compass point)

The thing could be a map, a literal battle map, or a number of them, to include specific densely arranged tactical challenges

It could also e an image, or a series of them, like a stained glass window and it could be a design, like a J.H. Williams page, like a mega-glyph or a Turkish rug, and so much info that no-one person could use it. you would need to have a group with everyone looking into different parts and thinking and acting together. 

The adventure would, could, be emergent from the people sitting down and the places they sit and how they react as they move through it

Data arrange in a kind of spiral, compass moving round

Sold as an artefact.

Maybe when something happens in the adventure the people playing have to move seats and re-integrate what they know and see in an interesting way?

Anyone ever done/seen this?

Trochees are Evil, Iambs are Good

Catastrophic burn-lines emanate from

tar melt, cracked nun-chuck attack marks explode

showering civilians with blinding grit specks.

Joy slips brightly past his grinning hate-smile.

I swing my blade and desperately jump through

the gaping mouth of empty market tents

to make a tear that sets the fabric free.

The canvas billows in the Tesco-wind

and flows out from the door like moving smoke

to cloak the burning fountain at its source.

Killers fear no petty weak manoeuvres,

track-suit guy goes dashing fast towards the

crashed bus site where bombs may still be locked-on

not blown, prepped to boom and kill commuters.

I spot the semtex oblong in its nest

no time to reach it, he will get there first,

I have to do the most heroic thing

and call the transport-daemon from the sky.

It means fighting two enemies at once,

natural and supernatural foes combined

at least the daemon won’t let him explode

the bus, they serve mercurial deity’s.

One-ear snaps to awareness on hearing

thaumic chanting bursting behind him now.

Knowing what I’m doing clearly shocks him.

Racing for the bomb would now be pointless.

Turning now towards me, lip-reading my

ghastly soliloquy, recognising

what is coming now from out the black air.