art by james stokoe |
Wednesday, 9 January 2019
alternate universe spidermans
while this list could technically be used with any superhero the authors strongly urge you to only do spidermans
Monday, 7 January 2019
dinosaur sea
rounding out dino trifecta
A fractal coast of fractured stone, cliffs in white and bright ochre. Everywhere teeming clouds of life. Billowing flocks of pterosaurs peel from the cliffs and dive at improbable shoals of gleaming fish. Plankton bloom and bioluminesce, cut through by basking sharks while ichthyosaurs frolick a swell away. People drag in slabs of bark from the swamp and carve every kind of craft: outriggers and kiteboards, kayaks and surfboards, and playfully tussle with the uncaring sea
A fractal coast of fractured stone, cliffs in white and bright ochre. Everywhere teeming clouds of life. Billowing flocks of pterosaurs peel from the cliffs and dive at improbable shoals of gleaming fish. Plankton bloom and bioluminesce, cut through by basking sharks while ichthyosaurs frolick a swell away. People drag in slabs of bark from the swamp and carve every kind of craft: outriggers and kiteboards, kayaks and surfboards, and playfully tussle with the uncaring sea
Whenever anyone rolls a natural 1 they get bigger fished.
Villages | Games | 1 Fish 2 Fish | Red Fish | Blue Fish | |
1 | carved into the cheeks, eyes and jowls of stone faces that spew water into the sea below | dive off cliff, swim to island, steal egg, swim back. maybe sharks | a jelly swarm, bobbing in their skirts and twining tentacles together like nervous hungry schoolkids | 2d4 wolfwhales, throwback orcas with the blunt faces and blunter humour of hyenas | finely feathered mosasaur, regal and curious, all the patience its great belly will afford |
2 | built around the rim of a blowhole, rooftop nets catch falling chunks of fish and other food | get tied to a rope and used as bait for a fish | 2d12 dartfish pop out of the water with a flash, tear through the wings of pterosaurs or nail into cliff side climbers and thrash, trying to drag them down | 1d3 sea scorpions clatter about the cliff sides and surge out of the shoreline mindlessly feeling for food | 1d100 horseshoe crabs, slowly migrating, their trails plotting lunar arcs through the sand |
3 | burrowed into the underside of a arching causeway, ropes dangling down to snare fish and haul ships | carefully scripted game of ulama, someone loses an eye or a hand probably | 20d20 writhing forms the length of your arm, catsharks and dogfish, wobbegongs and sawfish, a tumbling ball mad for blood | a motile mass of seaweed, twitching twisting limbs of green grip corpses, food for symbiotic fish | 2d10 crashing, empty-eyed dunkleosteus, as happy to shatter cliffs as ram their aggressor |
4 | atop huge raft of seaweed and guano, flocked over once a season by pterosaurs | swim through seacaves into the sweep of a blowhole | 8d6 somnolent squid regard the surface with detached, benthic wisdom, gather beneath human villages at night to share in their dreams | 1d6 morays jealously guard their porous home. poke sneering maws from their hiding holes but flee a real threat | a thousand year old nautilus drifts serenely, slow grow into indestructibility and content with the sagacity of centuries |
5 | in cave accessible via sump, lit by bioluminescent algae in the pools | surf the wake of a megalodon | 3d4 fisherfolk, their life completely at the mercy of the sea, totally laid back and relaxed | 5d10 huge-crested tapejarids, gather once a season on the guano islands to court each other | an algal bloom, a toxic wash that swirls against the current hunting hot life |
6 | nestled into the tall walls of a coral reef, kept dry by an enormous dyke | leap onto the back of a pterosaur and ride it down into the water | 3d4 skull faced, white feathered pterosaurs, like seagulls, or dingos, clamour and cajole and pounce on your back | fat, happy amoeba, smaller prey forgotten as it gloops around any new point of contact | a tentacle, the furthest tip of some beast bigger than your comprehension |
Saturday, 5 January 2019
city
buildings sneak into the city; in reflections, through pictures and adverts, flickering visible in the skyline into conversation then reality, history, memory punched through like a flag in soil
the babbling fates, piss-stained and homeless ratty beards woven together like their voices - sing song prognosticate, jibe and laugh; manic and sad and saner than you
plant rooms bloom on the rooftops, filtering human life: water and air and thin dense streams of data, strained of life to silhouette a ghost, a metal dryad
a million generations of rats little red eyes watching little red deeds soaking in gangsters executions arsons fraud little yellow teeth chewing little yellow wires and no one rat knows quite what it’s doing until you’re electrocuted in the bath
cop cars blacked out windows break the glass and all the shadows stream in the world goes flat and sirens sirens overwhelming your veins pop out like old diagrams of the circulatory system all red and blue blood pounding in you skull in shame and guilt and anxiety until you lash out and once the crime’s committed you’re dead, cop car tyres gleefully crunch your skull
ads sprawl over walls like vines, lcd displays bloom and flyers crawl like lichen, drinking in the light reflected from fixated eyeballs, photosynthesizing attention
dead ends always curving away around another corner you want to keep going but you’re tired and you need to piss why is it taking so long to get back? full of cats they love it here there’s space enough to establish long hierarchy and tradition and there’s always fresh meat
the internet of things
a living bus with a hundred concrete legs wants to smash your bones and slurp your unbroken skinsack into its form but can only see you when you transgress boundaries of politeness - jay-walking, loud swearing, littering, talking with your mouth full
rats in the streets below but pigeons wheel above, eating off the margins and making marginal gains, every swirl of the swarm a prediction, every falling falcon an insider trader, all calculating odds in aggregate and watched fearfully by people hands on their wallets
trains under your feet bind up the streets in a rune and draw you to a station like a spider like a wurm like your own anxiety at wondering where you're going, tunnels draw you in out of the rain but you don’t stop and rest because they have to be walked, trams trail you beg to be ridden but once you sit down you don’t stand up
super markets all twisting corridors of homewares and clothing and tins of food on special there's a frosty jug of milk somewhere in the back and you won't leave without it cause that's what you came here for, isn't it? Like a fey barrow with tight corridors of plasterboard and cheap metal shelving, clacking guardians of unrecycled plastic and the tithe of milk you have to pay before they'll let you out
it's an anglerfish a crocodile a suicide booth flashing LED deals 2 3 4 5 for the price of 1 sitting smug on street corners letting consumers flit in and out until someone touches the wrong twix bar and SNAP it gobbles everyone down and dives under the street to digest
the smell finds you and follows you everywhere like a lost dog, snuggling into garbage bags and exhaust pipes and backed up bathrooms, snuffling up your nose when it’s happy to see you and choking you to death when it’s not
spiralling highways, cars full of skeletons with cold quiet grins their heads turn to you unmoving and watch as the cars grind and bump towards each other dragged into a sinkhole and slow compacted metal and bone splinter and twist but don't break and then rumble up again under garages from tunnels ready to drive again again again into the hole that spawned them
THE RAIN
Wednesday, 2 January 2019
d50 villains
- Crime Slime. Big green ooze in a domino mask and a trenchcoat, holding about fifteen guns in its pseudopods. Talks like Tony Soprano.
- Couch Potato. Giant potato with big blue eyes and stumpy little arms that is toted around in a sedan chair by its henchmen. Buries foes in the dirt to feed its little potato babies.
- Cardsharp. Gambler with a thin moustache. Has exactly fifty-two razor-sharp throwable playing cards - when the deck runs out, the crime is over.
- Diving Belle. Woman in a Victorian diving suit with wetsuited, speargun-toting henchman and a flying submarine that crashes in through walls. Cannot swim.
- Saguaro. Big slow half-cactus bruiser who wears a cowboy hat and hugs enemies to death. Spongy flesh is hard to damage. Can heal by planting feet in soil.
- The Gecko. Cat burglar who climbs walls with sticky feet. Is constantly licking own eyeballs with long translucent tongue and making weird clicking sounds.
- Mancrab. Homeless hermit with crushing claws who steals hollow objects to use as shells. Robs banks just for the vaults. Would like to get big enough to wear the Sydney Opera House.
- El Conquistador. Don-Quixote-esque lunatic in steel helmet. Claims the wealth of the banks he robs for the Spanish crown. Underlings dressed as Renaissance musketmen.
- Killbug. Rolls into a chitinous ball and barges through town, knocking people over. Is constantly explaining that he is technically an isopod, not a bug.
- Stampede. Possessed by the spirit of a dead ecosystem. Has the power to summon a horde of ghost bison that charge down the street, destroying everything in sight.
- Parasite Wasp. Venomous ovipositors in her hands. Lays her eggs in important people, and controls their minds, so her babies will have a secure place to grow.
- Maid Marionette. Turned to a life of crime after she was fired from the children's TV show she created. Uses dark magic to animate evil puppet versions of pop-culture figures and superheroes.
- Flagburner. Hates patriotism and wants to destroy all symbols of America, from the Statue of Liberty to Mount Rushmore. Wears black. Definitely extremely evil.
- Joy Buzzer. Prankster with electrical powers. Can imbue seemingly harmless objects with lethal static charges that hurl people across rooms.
- Iceberg. Giant carved from craggy ice. Can't be stopped by anything except heat. Gentle at heart and loves to play with his two pet fairy penguins.
- Snow Day. Former science teacher who grew to hate school so much that she built a weather-controlling device to bring the city to its knees. Henchmen are delinquent students in turtlenecks.
- The X-Terminator. Self-styled hero who pumps poison gas into crooks' apartments and has creepy fascist overtones. Has long-term plan to target George Soros.
- Toastmaster. Breakfast-themed, with fried-egg gun and combat spatula. Seems funny until he sprays boiling bacon fat into your eyes.
- Pet Peeve. Can speak to all domestic animals and convince them to turn them against their masters. Uses them as a spy network and knows everything that goes on in the city.
- Red Scare. Torments capitalists with hallucinogenic fear gas, which mostly gives them nightmares of the working class rising up to reclaim the fruits of their labour.
- Red Herring. Traps capitalists in elaborate underwater death labyrinths and forces them to solve riddles to escape. Failures get fed to carnivorous fish.
- Loan Shark. Hammerhead shark in a cheap suit who runs a pawnshop and bites the legs off his debtors. Wisecracking remora attached to chest.
- Little League. Twelve-year-old baseball prodigy and criminal mastermind who turned to crime when he became too old for the game. Goons wear uniforms and beat people with bats.
- Brass Monkey. Monkey in a top hat and goggles, equipped with an array of steampunk gadgets. Hates cold and only works in summer.
- Knucklehead. Head is a fist. Fists are also fists. Has a gun that shoots fists. Has trouble working out how to commit fist-themed crimes.
- The Mammal. Bit by a radioactive mammal, now has all the powers of every mammal. Tracks prey like a wolf, runs like a cheetah, punches like a gorilla, swims like a dolphin, etc.
- Stable Abel. Cat burglar with perfect balance. Can never be knocked over. Spirit-level vision - always knows how close to level any given surface is.
- Mister Blister. A slave to the sapient acidic blisters that cover every inch of his skin. Squirts corrosive pus at enemies. Does not enjoy life.
- Helen Killer. Deaf-blind assassin who hunts by vibrations in the air. Delivers hilarious Bond-style quips by means of a sign language interpreter that follows her everywhere - she's holding his family hostage.
- Turf War. Huge man with enormous pruning shears, wrapped in layers of high-quality lawn turf that muffle all blows. Talks to the grass and takes its advice.
- The Luddite. Hates technology, wields a huge hammer. Nothing invented after 1700 works in her vicinity.
- Deathwish. Suicidal guy with luck powers. Does violent crime and gets into dangerous situations in the hope that it'll kill him, but survives by outrageous coincidence.
- Wet Willie. Skin is permanently damp and slippery, making him hard to get hold of. Can squeeze through small spaces like he was made of jelly. Likes to sneak up behind you and put his finger in your ear.
- The Prickly Pair. Team-Rocket-esque duo of gunslinging outlaws who are constantly taking offence at minor insults. Mascot is a trained, highly-intelligent burrowing owl.
- Wireframe. A luminous green video game skeleton that escaped from the computer into reality. Can clip through walls and teleport randomly around the map.
- Clickbait. Gets more powerful the more attention is paid to her. A big fan of sexy costumes and controversial political opinions.
- The Raw Prawn. Extremely Australian mercenary, known for his brutal honesty and appallingly fishy body odour. Expert in maritime assassination. Fears being whacked on the barbie.
- The Dropbear. Big hairy guy in leather who assassinates people by HALO jumping on top of them. Commonly thought to be an urban legend.
- Lemon Squeezy. Guy with a squirt gun attached to a big tank of lemon juice on his back. Only move is to squirt lemon juice into your eyes and laugh. Wears yellow.
- Spin Cycle. Ex-wrestler dressed like a washing machine. Utility belt contains slippery soap, caustic detergent and deadly tide pods.
- Pillowfight. In her hands, pillows and cushions become heavy as lead and unbreakable as adamantium. If she throws them they turn into feather-filled bombs. Prefers to rob IKEAs.
- Sargasso. Enormous animated blob of tangled, decaying seaweed that wraps you up and chokes you. Releases sulphurous fumes that rust metal. Lonely.
- Hocus POTUS. The American president from another dimension where everyone is magic. Plots to take over the America of this world.
- Daily Grind. Golem made from used coffee grounds. Raids cafes to get more grounds to supplement its rotting form. Will suffocate you, but smells great.
- Thunderhead. Head is a perpetually-roiling storm cloud. Shoots bolts of lightning when she gets angry. Voice is modulated thunder.
- Stunt Double. Capable of being in two places at the same time. One body creates distractions by doing fantastic, death-defying stunts while the other commits sneaky crimes.
- Firedamp. Exudes and controls clouds of flammable gas. Wears heavy leather padding to protect them from the inevitable explosions caused by people shooting at them. Henchmen dressed as miners carrying lanterns.
- The Oaf. Incredibly stupid, reasonably strong man who, due to a gypsy's blessing, can't be injured or defeated by anybody smarter than he is.
- Crookatoo. Flashy gangster who dresses all in white, with a yellow plume in his hat. Cracks open nuts with his teeth and repeats everything said to him.
- Stickybeak. Bird guy with a glue gun.
Sunday, 23 December 2018
Fairy Generator
on bounding legs of | and flapping wings of | wielding a | that's made of | its clothes fashioned from a | it’s | while | |
1 | frog | butterfly | lantern | gossamer | boot | smoking a pipe | solving a riddle |
2 | grasshopper | hummingbird | sword | grass | book | fishing (but not for fish) | fighting with a friend |
3 | heron | dragonfly | cloak | glass | pillow | counting something inane | haranguing a woodland creature |
4 | deer | bat | spear | mud | kettle | reciting poetry to an inanimate object | building a nest |
5 | kangaroo rat | christmas beetle | hammer | moonlight | cutlery | practising kissing | looking for true love |
6 | ballerina | sycamore seed | flask | snow | handful of coins | butchering a kill | waiting for someone to rob |
art is "mothdust changeling" from mtg the lorwyn set has a lot of good fairy art |
Tuesday, 11 December 2018
BRIGADE de CUISINE
A restaurant complex the size of a small city, spiralling down the sides of a mountain, plunging cellars deep into its glacial heart. Lowest levels are a riot of food courts, beer halls, dive bars, buffet counters, noodle-and-dumpling stands, blending into each other to become one massive banquet and piss-up. Highest levels, accessible only to the embarrassingly rich, provide culinary pleasures undreamed-of by the schmucks below. In between are people selling every conceivable variety of meal, snack, beverage and over-dinner entertainment. It's unclear where anybody sleeps. Possibly they don't.
The Kitchen's heart is the Gustatory. It houses most of the tables and most of the customers. If the PCs arrive out of the blue, looking for nothing more than a good meal, that's where they're likely to wind up. The other four districts - the Gumbo, the Griddle, the Greenhouse, and the Glacé - primarily prepare the endless mountains of food funneled to the punters, but host a few specialist eateries and experiences of their own.
The kitchen is headed by a mysterious chef de cuisine, their identity said to be known by only one other in the whole of the kitchen. The Griddle, Gumbo, Glacé and Greenhouse are each run by a sous-chef: a dragon, a giant squid, a vampire and a perfectly ordinary human, respectively. The Griddle also has a saucier, nearly as powerful as the sous, who often mediates between the different factions. The Garbage is rumoured to be staffed by only a single garçon de cuisine.
GUSTATORY
Huge communal tables run down the centre of every street. Silk-hatted goblin busboys scamper in and out of trapdoors, toting huge platters of pork, pushing dumpling trolleys and scavenging the scraps from discarded plates. Conveyor belts large enough for three men to stand abreast distribute bales of sushi on colour-coded plates. Everything is one massive food court. The greatest danger you face here is a pub brawl.
The Kitchen's heart is the Gustatory. It houses most of the tables and most of the customers. If the PCs arrive out of the blue, looking for nothing more than a good meal, that's where they're likely to wind up. The other four districts - the Gumbo, the Griddle, the Greenhouse, and the Glacé - primarily prepare the endless mountains of food funneled to the punters, but host a few specialist eateries and experiences of their own.
The kitchen is headed by a mysterious chef de cuisine, their identity said to be known by only one other in the whole of the kitchen. The Griddle, Gumbo, Glacé and Greenhouse are each run by a sous-chef: a dragon, a giant squid, a vampire and a perfectly ordinary human, respectively. The Griddle also has a saucier, nearly as powerful as the sous, who often mediates between the different factions. The Garbage is rumoured to be staffed by only a single garçon de cuisine.
GUSTATORY
Huge communal tables run down the centre of every street. Silk-hatted goblin busboys scamper in and out of trapdoors, toting huge platters of pork, pushing dumpling trolleys and scavenging the scraps from discarded plates. Conveyor belts large enough for three men to stand abreast distribute bales of sushi on colour-coded plates. Everything is one massive food court. The greatest danger you face here is a pub brawl.
- A poverty-stricken high elf offers her soul for a single sip of the chilled pomegranate and burdock wine they keep in the lowest tunnels of the Glacé. You could also find the raw ingredients in the Greenhouse and mash together a decent substitute. Elf wine is mostly bullshit anyway
- A jealous noodle shop owner wants to find the secret ingredient of her rival's extra-salty broth. Track her through the Gumbo after her shift and find out exactly what she does to it
- An ogre chieftain has been eating mutton shanks by the wheelbarrow for the last three days, and the supply from the Griddle has run out. Go and find the source of the delay before the chieftain starts to get hungry
- A drunk merchant is craving mandrake root ratatouille, piping hot. She can't find a chef to serve such a disgrace, so is throwing cash around asking for someone to steal one on its way from the Griddle to the Glacé to be chilled
- A pair of solid gold chopsticks are being offered as first prize in a eating competition. The terms of entry are vague - contestants are judged only on the total volume of food and drink they can consume, and none of the human competitors seem dismayed by the fact that the reigning champion is an ettin capable of eating twice as fast as anyone else
- Nearly a hundred eager customers have banded around a charismatic orc poet and begun the first leg of an impromptu pub crawl. Publicans are desperate for help in steering the crowd, some wanting the crowd to stay as long as possible, others wanting the atmosphere of their eatery protected from the staggering masses. Some scheming salesperson would likely reward you well for starting a brawl in a rival's restaurant
GUMBO
Turkish baths in which every pool is a differently flavoured soup. Saunas filled with steam from bubbling broths, wading pools of pumpkin puree full of fat, happy, edible snails. The famous fondue fountain; a waterslide of pleasantly warm cheese. Hygiene is meticulously managed from the catwalks above, with pressure cooker airlocks and the highest density of clipboards in the Kitchen.
Turkish baths in which every pool is a differently flavoured soup. Saunas filled with steam from bubbling broths, wading pools of pumpkin puree full of fat, happy, edible snails. The famous fondue fountain; a waterslide of pleasantly warm cheese. Hygiene is meticulously managed from the catwalks above, with pressure cooker airlocks and the highest density of clipboards in the Kitchen.
- A hugely obese customer, who hasn't left their restorative soup bath in twenty years, has begun to very slowly overheat. They insist that the only thing to cool them down is an iced tea from the deepest freezer in the Glacé
- A steam naiad wants to take liquid form, just to see what it's like, but the efreet who stokes the fire beneath her kettle is too proud of her work to put it out. The chefs can't get any work done until someone resolves their feud
- The duke has lost his favourite poison ring! Get it out of the pumpkin broth before anyone finds out, or they'll have to throw out the whole tureen and he'll be banned for life
- A backed up pipe just exploded, blowing dishwater into a dozen bowls and baths of soup. Get down to the Garbage and clear the blockage before something else goes wrong
- A tragic mixup has sent ten tureens of dragon blood-soup out to the Gustatory and ten tubs of dragon-blood soup to the Griddle. The deliveries need to be intercepted before they incinerate any customers or, worse, cause a riot in the drakegrills
- The winning entry in the annual spiciest soup competition has emptied a wing of the Gumbo, and the teary-eyed judges are desperate for someone to brave the steam-filled corridors to get the lid back on the damn thing
GRIDDLE
A canyonous stretch of smokestacks and spitroasts, full of dripping meat, leaping fire and falling cleavers. Cutlets, kebabs and carne asada. Steakhouses and cigar lounges buried behind meat markets and fire-side arguments, orcish swear words and delicate knifework. The hierarchy is managed in the manner of dragons and hogs, with much tussling and competition.
A canyonous stretch of smokestacks and spitroasts, full of dripping meat, leaping fire and falling cleavers. Cutlets, kebabs and carne asada. Steakhouses and cigar lounges buried behind meat markets and fire-side arguments, orcish swear words and delicate knifework. The hierarchy is managed in the manner of dragons and hogs, with much tussling and competition.
- Four chefs are chasing an escaped pig. The pig is actually a cursed princess, capable of communicating in rudimentary scratches and squeals. The flesh of such is said to be extra delicious.
- A merchant trying to eat a rib from every mammal is aghast - their prized ivory scrimshaw was accidentally thrown out with the trash. Anyone who goes to the Garbage's boneyard to find it is promised a bag of gems and an ivory earring.
- A masochistic troll is feeling glum. All it wants is for people far and wide to come and feed from its regenerating flanks, but it's worn out a handful of chefs already and needs either a new cook to play muse to, or a new recipe for troll flesh to keep the diners interested
- A friturier in the Griddle has found out about her competitor's secret ingredient - a dangerous and illegal stash of rotgrubs gorging in the Garbage. She wants you to go down and get her hard evidence that she can show to the sous
- A tray of hibernating toads has woken up halfway into the oven and gone mad with terror. The chef needs them asleep for her experimental smoked toad recipe, thinks that with a reasonable simulacra of swampwater from up in the Gumbo, the toads could be calmed
- Two tons of smokewood has been accidentally set alight. Impromptu spits have been erected all around the renegade inferno and people are happily toasting to their good fortune, but someone of less pyromaniacal inclination is going to need to round up another two tons of wood or there'll be no smoked eel available for a good week
very tired fungus farmer |
GREENHOUSE
Usually less urgent than the rest of the Kitchen, but no less hard worked, the staff a steady stream of ants across the tiered gardens, glasshouses and groves. Ramshackle cafes serve salad, banh mi and high tea. Cockatrice coups, suntanning apple ents and the self-managed minotaur dairy, woven together with hessian sacks of manure toted by mud-smattered, loving labourers.
Usually less urgent than the rest of the Kitchen, but no less hard worked, the staff a steady stream of ants across the tiered gardens, glasshouses and groves. Ramshackle cafes serve salad, banh mi and high tea. Cockatrice coups, suntanning apple ents and the self-managed minotaur dairy, woven together with hessian sacks of manure toted by mud-smattered, loving labourers.
- Before it's served at table, a specific kind of carnivorous vine must be fed somebody who's recently eaten its fruit. You didn't know this when you were offered those free samples
- A cracked heating pipe leading from the Griddle has released a huge cloud of steam, now trapped against the glass ceiling and blotting out the sun over a dozen different gardens. Finding and repairing the crack would be hard enough in the soggy haze, but that doesn't explain why nobody can contact the repair crew sent up there hours ago
- Having requested to personally thank the chef, a local high elf dignitary was appalled to discover that their meal was prepared by a small brown rat. Bringing the elf back from their meltdown would be nice, but the waiters are mostly concerned with getting Monsieur Souris out from the grip of those salad tongs
- A hundred-year apple tree has given its last fruit. The gardeners sharpened their axes and were ready to deliver the promised bushel of quality smoking wood to the Griddle until the tree's resident dryad threatened to uproot the whole arbour and march it straight out of the Kitchen
- A bed of temperamental herbs needs the finest compost available, but nobody wants to head to the Garbage and fetch a sackful. They say they don't want to go rooting around in so much trash, but more likely everyone's just spooked at the thought of bargaining with whatever lurks beneath the refuse
- The corpse lilies are in bloom and the garden in chaos, a greenhouse under siege by confused ghouls seeking out the source of the delectable scent. The team of gas-masked gardeners inside have almost finished harvesting the plants, but they need a way out that won't cause an undead stampede
GLACÉ
A quite literal labyrinth of storage, of wines and food and dead chefs that might be useful in a few hundred years. Quiet ovens, curing cheese, and bonsai gardens of yeast; red wines and dark spirits. Sparkling freezers, delicate desserts and stalactites of frozen fish and fruit; white wines and clear spirits. Dry rooms above, the cold below, and everything in the Glace is elegant, from the shining steel of the world's most precise measuring cups to the arched ceilings of the skating rink.
A quite literal labyrinth of storage, of wines and food and dead chefs that might be useful in a few hundred years. Quiet ovens, curing cheese, and bonsai gardens of yeast; red wines and dark spirits. Sparkling freezers, delicate desserts and stalactites of frozen fish and fruit; white wines and clear spirits. Dry rooms above, the cold below, and everything in the Glace is elegant, from the shining steel of the world's most precise measuring cups to the arched ceilings of the skating rink.
- A crawling aspic has been set free to wander the halls. Its instructions are to absorb, suffocate and preserve some creature of flesh, then return to a private booth and serve itself up to a dining-party of dark elves
- Several dozen bowls of mandrake root ratatouille have gone missing mid-chill. A chef in both the Glacé and Gustatory promise a favour to anyone who brings a fresh supply from the Greenhouse. The mandrake handlers have all gone home
- The fish that swallowed a local prince's diamond ring has been tracked to an exclusive fish market. Without his diamond ring the prince has been considered too vulgar to allow in. He's now promising some slightly worse rings to anyone that can sneak in and find the one fish among several thousand
- A dozen dishes of creme brulee are due to arrive any minute, but the drake that's supposed to caramelize the tops has caught a cold. Someone needs to head up to the Griddle and get a bottle of dragon fire to finish off the dish in traditional fashion. The glacier would be greatly appreciative of anyone that can find a more permanent solution for their wheezy drake
- A potager has been sent from the Gumbo to ask the skeleton chef for a wine pairing for a catoblepas pho, but the skeleton chef is missing somewhere in the depths of a mile-long wine cellar
- A frozen mummy has woken up and is kicking up a stink, cursing everyone it sees and demanding they prepare the ancient meal that it requires before it sinks into another hundred year slumber. This would be business as usual, if anyone could remember how to make the byzantine meal it's requesting
GARBAGE
Nobody to give you quests down here, just a city's worth of refuse and a titanic intelligence slowly processing it all
Monday, 3 December 2018
Food Generator
For fleshing out the banquet at your local dungeon moshi
Totally use with the 'method of eating' and 'complication' tables over here
with
|
and
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washed down with
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1
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sliced
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duck
|
mandrake root
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plum
|
thin beer
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2
|
braised
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beef
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cabbage
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chili
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mead
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3
|
cured
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catoblepas
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shambling mound
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peppercorn
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cactus spirits
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4
|
fried
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ankheg
|
ent apple
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dipping sauce
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spiced wine
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5
|
shredded
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griffon egg
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mushroom
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broth
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plum wine
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6
|
roasted
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rotgrub
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seaweed
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rice noodle
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grass jelly
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7
|
steamed
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crab
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peanut
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bay leaf
|
coconut water
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8
|
rotisserie
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mimic
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orcwort
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cinnamon
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ginger drink
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9
|
marinated
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mudmaw
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whiting
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lime
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lemonade
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10
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candied
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beholder
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raisins
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sugarcane
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sarsaparilla
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11
|
pureed
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hydra
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water chestnut
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dried dryad flowers
|
jasmine tea
|
12
|
honeyed
|
hell hound
|
radishes
|
mustard
|
black beer
|
13
|
stuffed
|
chimera
|
yoghurt
|
bell peppers
|
fruit juice
|
14
|
jellied
|
basilisk
|
frog legs
|
custard
|
soju
|
15
|
crumbed
|
owlbear
|
potato
|
slaw
|
grog
|
16
|
fermented
|
gibbering mouther
|
tomato
|
bread
|
snake venom
|
17
|
charred
|
shark
|
crickets
|
caviar
|
kumis
|
18
|
salted
|
wyvern
|
apricots
|
rosemary
|
tonic water
|
19
|
sausaged
|
morkoth
|
artichoke
|
capers
| miso |
20
|
raw
|
unicorn
|
myconid
|
blood
| minotaur milkshake |
yay fooood |
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