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D&D is For Nerds

There is no formal name given to worship of the One Above and the One Below. It is a strange religion and one not well known outside of the small pockets of the multiverse where people practise it. Those who believe see themselves as part of a grander cosmic food chain with the One Below being the source of their power. They feed on one One Below to power their minds and bodies and souls and spells. In this way the One Below is seen as a creator god, a fertility god, or a god of harvest depending on the context. The One Below is conceptualized as different entities depending on the context such as a worm, a deer, or a chicken. Adherents then see the One Above as feeding upon them when they die to fuel its own power; the One Above acting as a god of judgement, true death, or even renewal. While similarly to the One Below there is no definitive depiction of the One Above by far the most common form is a giant bird. This is observed through works made by the Grung people who are the most prevalent, but certainly not the only, adherents to the faith. Common death rites involve exposing the corpse to the elements and scavengers so that the soul can pass seamlessly up the cosmic food chain.If you supported the Jarren's Outpost Board Game, check your emails to manage your pledge manager! Of course you can still grab a copy right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a> and we insist you do xx o.<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Barovia V #8 To Test a Theory

I had no ambition to be remembered. All I knew is that I wanted a desk eventually. Somewhere dry and quiet. A place where my boots didn't end the day caked in mud and dirt. I did not care for the frontline. I did not care for battle. I did not care that my wife always worried whenever I went on a campaign. I was not, and will never be, what you'd call a hero. Someone history bent around. That was for other people. To happen elsewhere, while I stayed comfortable at its edges. I was happy with that arraignment.&nbsp;He arrived unannounced, in the middle of the night, from somewhere I still don't fully understand. He was forthright with any questions I had. A deeply honest man. There were rumours about the man responsible for making all of what we do possible, the majority of which I didn't understand. What I did understand, however, was that the man across from me, looking at drilling contracts and charters of accounts didn't understand any of it. But unlike most men of consequence I've dealt with, he was honest about that. In the end he said he'd rather be honestly ignorant in front of one man than dishonestly confident in front of a hundred, and would I be that man.He has had many names and titles throughout history, both his own and mine. Some flattering. Some true to the man I knew. Others I still can't reconcile with him at all, atrocities I have no answer for and have stopped trying to find one. But before he was anything to anyone, he was a stranger asking me to be as honest with him as he was with me. For that I will always respect him and I will always call him a friend.- From the memoirs of Lord Warden Forsyth of the Sand MarchesIf you supported the Jarren's Outpost Board Game, check your emails to manage your pledge manager! Of course you can still grab a copy right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a> and we insist you do xx o.<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Barovia V #7 Control

An army marches on its stomach. Please do not take this literally. As impressive as it may look, a thousand men flopping, rolling and laughing in the mud is neither intimidating or practical. What I am talking about is, very simply, food.&nbsp;Every quartermaster knows the phrase "send a druid before the cart and the army eats before it starts". Yet seldom do they know the second part of the phrase: "but slight her once, and mark it well, the forest keeps its own farewell". To put it bluntly, be nice to your druid and she'll be nice to you.&nbsp;This is harder than it sounds, as druids are, quite frankly, miserable countrymen. A druid does not march in formation, screams at most steel weaponry and will stop the whole host because a hedge "seemed unhappy about something." A druid will let a man go hungry on principle before she lets him shoot a doe that hasn't finished raising her fawns. She she will not apologise and she will remember exactly which soldier complained the loudest. Men who have survived three sieges without flinching will cross an entire camp to avoid a druid's disappointed silence. It is, by every account I've collected, deeply unpleasant to be quietly out-ranked in a moral argument by someone holding a badger and has sunflowers in their hair.None of this matters however, as in the end it is a matter of arithmetic.To feed 50 men for one week without a druid, you will need:* 3 supply wagons* 6 oxen to pull them, and feed for the oxen* 2 armed escorts per wagon, minimum, against bandits, wolves and goblins. Especially goblins.* 1 forager scout, who will get lost so best make it 2 forager scouts* Standing goodwill (or standing coin) with whichever village you're passing* A contingency plan for when the village has, quite reasonably, hidden its grain* An extra crate of soft-leather shoes you can boil for "shoe soup"To feed 50 men for one week with a druid, you will need:* A druid* Several unruly horses you hate (to feed said druid)I once witnessed a single druid consume eleven horses over the span of a six week campaign. She never once touched the venison, the rabbit or the fish she herself had summoned to shallow water out of what I can only assume was professional courtesy to the fish. Only the horses. By the third horse I finally asked her why. She considered the question with the seriousness of a woman being asked to explain colour to someone born without eyes. She said that she liked them. Not the meat. Them. For the better part of a decade I have not stopped thinking about her answer and I am no closer to understanding it.&nbsp;In my youth, I naïvely thought it was only this particular druid that had a penchant for horse meat. Let me tell you dear reader, I had never been so wrong in my entire life.- On the Matter of the Marching Stomach, and Other Inconveniences of War by Quartermaster-General Ordo Bramblehoof If you supported the Jarren's Outpost Board Game, check your emails to manage your pledge manager! Of course you can still grab a copy right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a> and we insist you do xx o.<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Barovia V #6 The Shapes that Bind Us

There's a saying in ol' North Warlocksburg: "Still water runs deep, and deep water runs wise, and wise water knows better than to answer questions it wasn't asked." Nobody can tell you what that means. Yet it gets recited at weddings, funerals, and most minor irrigation disputes. Usually with a solemn head nod for emphasis.It's also, if you ask around, the reason our little town turns out so many wizards. Why a farmer's boy from North Warlocksburg is more likely to end up hurling fireballs than herding sheep. Why every child is taught how to dispel magic before they can take their first steps.Now come sit down by the fire. Let me tell you a story. A story you may have heard before, and you may be right, but trust me when I say my version is the correct version. You see, I was there.Long ago, long before anyone here was ever born, an evil wizard lived here. Some say his name was Balthazor the Cruel, others claim it was Galbatorixium the Flaccid. Neither are correct. It was Steve. Steve the Red.&nbsp;One day, after a fruitful day of kicking dogs and cursing crops, the villagers had had enough and chased poor Steve through the square with pitchforks. Steve, you have to understand, while no one could kick a dog better than he, was truly awful sprinter. Especially when it came to hurdles. I never met a hurdle that Steve wouldn't just plow straight through and donk his head. You might have noticed those blue ribbons adorning my cabin walls, and you'd be correct. I did in fact steal them from the village's number 1 runner. He begged and begged and begged for me to give them back, but by then they were rightfully mine and no one was around to disprove him. So i just laughed and laughed in his stupid ugly good at running face. Got myself a lot of strange from those ribbons alone. You can have them when I pass. You look like you could use with the ribbon help. Now where was I? Steve? Right. Dogshit at running, tripped and fell straight into the town well. Never to be seen again. Neither was his hat, which personally I think was the real tragedy.That night, so the story goes, his dark magic seed seeped into the water, all at once, forever and ever. Everyone who drank from that well was touched by it. As was their children and their children's children all the way down, right to this very day. That's why they call it Wiz Water. And that's why when we drink, we drink deep in ol' North Warlockburg. Now raise your glass and take a sip, to the wizard below and the wizard to come.- Printed on every single bottle of Wiz Water sold by Warlockburg's Brewery If you supported the Jarren's Outpost Board Game, check your emails to manage your pledge manager! Of course you can still grab a copy right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a> and we insist you do xx o.<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Barovia V #5 Barovian Tea

<h2>Trail Waffles: How I Found Myself Again</h2>[↓ Jump to Recipe ↓](you can click that if you want, I won't be offended, though I will say a small prayer for you to Glizabert, Goddess of Travel, Privilege and Whatever-the-Opposite-of-White-Guilt-is)I wasn't always a person who made waffles on a donkey.I know. I know. You came here for a recipe, and instead you are getting Filmeena's Feelings, and I promise we will get there, we will get to the part with the flour and the fire, but first you have to understand about my grandmother's grandmother, a woman I never met, who according to family legend once fought off a bugbear using nothing but a cast-iron pan and sheer force of personality, and I think about her every single morning as I stand over my own cast-iron pan wondering if today is the day the bugbear comes back seeking revenge.It was autumn - or whatever passes for autumn in a world where the seasons are decided by which god is currently "on one" - and I had just left my third adventuring party in as many months, not because I don't love a good dungeon (I do, dungeons are&nbsp;fine, dungeons are a&nbsp;journey), but because I had realised, somewhere around goblin encounter number forty-one, that nobody in my party had eaten a warm breakfast in six weeks and everyone was, frankly, being insufferable about it. You cannot reason with a paladin who has not had breakfast. I have tried. It ends in a lecture about "Nome guilt" and "we must confess about the sin of taste". All this from a man who, and I cannot stress this enough, eats hardtack&nbsp;dry.So I quit the party. I kept the donkey. The donkey's name is Big Clop and he has never once complained about waffles, which already makes him a better travel companion than most of the two-legged adventurers I've adventured with.I want to be honest with you: I did not invent trail waffles in a moment of culinary genius. I invented them at 5 AM in the freezing rain, sobbing slightly, holding two pans, having what I can only describe as a Breakfast Emergency. But that's the thing about the road, isn't it? It strips everything back to the essentials. Who are you, really, when you're cold, and hungry, and someone in your party (still not naming names, Flibbert) keeps asking "are we there yet?" like we are not all equally lost, annoyed and extremely overwhelmed. Are you the kind of person who gives up? Or are you the kind of person who straps two iron pans to a mule and refuses, on principle, to eat another cold biscuit stew flavoured with sock?I chose waffles. I choose waffles every morning, honestly, it's less a decision at this point and more a compulsion, but we don't have to unpack that today.I made these for a hag once. Not "for" in the sense of "willingly." She'd threatened to turn my party into assorted woodland creatures unless someone impressed her by sundown, and everyone looked at me, and I don't know what that says about my reputation, or the uselessness of my former party, but I made her trail waffles with a little wild honey on top and she let me go AND gave me a discount on a curse removal later that year, so. Draw your own conclusions about the transformative power of a good breakfast. I certainly have.<h3>Trail Waffles {#recipe}</h3>(serves 4 adventurers, or 1 adventurer and their emotional support donkey)You will need:1 cup of oat flour1/2 cup of regular flour1 egg2 tbsp dried milk-curd (fresh if you can get it)1 cup of water (thin ale will work in a pinch)Pinch of salt1 tbsp fat or oil, plus extra for the pans2 flat iron pans of roughly the same sizeA fire that has calmed down and stopped being dramatic about it (coals, not flame)Optional, but I heavily suggest these are not Optional1/2 cup of nuts&nbsp;1 tablespoon dried fruit or preserves&nbsp;1 tablespoon of wild honey or syrupPinch of travelling spicesA fire that has calmed down and stopped being dramatic about it (coals, not flame)- Scrawled on the wall on the privy of The Wandering Spoon, signed Filmeena Oatbarrow, lvl 10 Cook/Bard<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Barovia V #4 The Road is Dark and Terrible

Alchemy has a reputation for grand gestures. A pinch of grave-moss, a vial of moon-condensed dew, a hair from something that used to be a person, all tipped into a vessel (usually an ornate iron cauldron) at once with great ceremony, to the delight of the audience or client. I want to be very clear with you: this is not alchemy. This is theatre, and theatre does not require you to have functioning eyebrows or both your eyes left in your head after the dust settles.Every reagent you will work with in this course has a nature. A temperament, if you like the poetic word for it, though I prefer tolerance. Wolfsbane ash wants heat, but slowly, and in the presence of something binding, or it does not steep, it seizes. Quicksilver is patient with almost everything except itself. Two measures of it in the same vessel will fight for dominance rather than combine, and the vessel, and the hands holding it, generally lose that argument. You are not required to memorise every tolerance in the first month. You are required to accept, as an article of faith until you can verify it yourself, that they exist, and that ignoring them is not boldness. It is arithmetic you have chosen not to do.There are three guiding questions you should ask yourself before anything touches your mixing bowl. Write these down, underline them if you must, tattoo them on your skin if you cannot remember them.<ol><li>What does this reagent want to react with, and in what order?&nbsp;Sequence is not a suggestion. Half of you will be tempted to treat a recipe like a shopping list, tossed in together because it is faster. It is faster. It is also how we no longer have an East Wing.</li><li>How much, precisely, and why that amount?&nbsp;"A bit more couldn't hurt" is the last sentence most aspiring potion makers will utter before they met their god. I would highly recommend you worship one of the nicer ones that are sympathetic to clumsiness. A reagent that behaves at one measure may not behave at three. This is not a linear art. Do not treat it as one.</li><li>What is your escape, if this goes wrong anyway?&nbsp;Every working bench in this facility has a water trough, a smothering cloth, and a door you can reach in five steps. Four if you're particularly fast. I will ask you to locate all three before I let you light a burner. This is not paranoia. This is the entire reason our particular school of knowledge has survived long enough to have someone teach it.</li></ol>I want to be clear that I am not asking you to be timid. Alchemy rewards curiosity more than almost any other discipline, and I would rather teach a room of the reckless than a room of the incurious. The reckless, at least, can be taught caution. What I am asking is that your experimentation be deliberate. Change one variable at a time. Record what you changed. Small batches before large ones. A thimble of a new combination will tell you everything a cauldron full would, at a fraction of the risk.The reagents do not care how confident you feel. They only care what you actually put in the vessel, in what order, and in what amount. Respect the proportion, and the discipline will, eventually, respect you back.- Lecture Notes On the Discipline of Reagent Craft for First-Year Alchemical Theory by Professor Viktoria VoleIf you're still wanting to get Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a>! Our pledge manager is open so get it while you can!<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Barovia V #3 Pip's Bag of Tricks

14th of the NeyavrMama says it's only elk, calling to each other across the valley. But I have never heard an elk sound like that. It came three times, low and long, like a horn blown by something with no lungs to exhaust. The dogs would not stop shaking until well past moonrise.16th of the NeyavrOld Tomas is gone. His wife says she heard the horn the night before. Tomas went out "to see whose fool idea it was to blow a hunting horn past curfew." I do not think it was a hunting horn. I do not think Tomas is coming back.22nd of the NeyavrThree sounds tonight. Not one. Three. Different notes, like it was... singing? Singing is the wrong word. It was closer to something practicing at being a voice. And it was angry.&nbsp;29th of the NeyavrJakob, my poor sweet Jakob, we found him strangled by his own leash in the morning. The marks on the dirt and the rope burns around his neck are so deep and ragged. He wanted to get away from the woods so bad he all but ripped through his own throat. But Savanah, his mate, hasn't moved since we came upon the scene. She sits there, motionless, as still as a statue, eyes fixed at the forrest and growls whenever we attempt to move her.3rd of the DekavrI saw it. It came to the edge of the tree line and did not come one step closer. Black-feathered and wrong-shouldered. I saw it between the trunks. And then I heard it. The same sound I have heard for the last three weeks. Loud, piercing, accusing and mocking. I cannot explain how I know this, and by the Gods I hope I am wrong, but it sounding like it was laughing.- Journal excerpt found in an abandoned settlement near Tser Falls If you're still wanting to get Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a>! Our pledge manager is open so get it while you can!<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Barovia V #2 Simultaneous Regeneration

I never knew what to expect when travelling with Him. There were days He was quiet and focused, when nothing in the world could pull His attention from the road ahead. Other days it was as though He could not sit still in His own skin, chasing one thought after another as if they fell out of His head faster than He could follow them. The day He bowed his head to an undead king, and very nearly did not rise again, belonged to the former kind of day. He had been silent since dawn, turning something over behind His eyes, and I remember thinking that silence was the surest sign He had already made up His mind about something I would not like. The feigned confusion only guaranteed it for me.&nbsp;The undead paladins stood there in armour gone the colour of old rivers. They did not look up as we entered, and did not look up as He knelt among them, and did not look up even as their king rose from his throne to pronounce, in a voice like a door closing, that the traveller had been summoned to answer for the living. That his death would be a mercy compared to what living men would one day do to the world in his name.&nbsp;I still cannot decide whether He walked into that castle believing they would hear Him, or whether some deeper part of Him already knew they would not, and went anyway. He was like that, in those early days. Hope was not a conclusion He arrived at after weighing the evidence, it was the ground He stood on before the weighing had even begun. It served Him well more often than it should have. It nearly did not, that day.I will not pretend I understood that I was witnessing anything but a man's foolishness catching up to him at last. It was only afterward, long afterward, after so much else had happened, after His name had outgrown Him and outgrown me, that I came to think He had walked in there already knowing what it would cost, and had judged the cost worth paying.- Excerpt from&nbsp;In the Shadows of Lightbringer If you're still wanting to get Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a>! Our pledge manager is open so get it while you can!<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Barovia V #1 Some Bridge Along That River

GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME THE CUP. GIVE ME TIf you want to hear more of Ellie Morris and Henry Shields go check out the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.hellorhighrollers.com/" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Hell or High Rollers Podcast</a>!And if you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a>!<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Cult & Roses Chapter 5: GIVE ME THE CUP

After learning more about worship of the ocean deity Ehellia; the Cult of Salt and Sail "dedicated" to her; and the Cup of True Passage, a sacred relic for Ehellia worshipers that the cult is literally willing to kill for. Tyke Baphammer suggests they steal the relic as a bargaining chip with the cult, Ephraim Red explains the Monty Hall problem to their companions, and Sticks sends her beloved fish companion Twigs to scout an underwater temple. Are our heroes wise to act so antagonistly towards both friend and foe? Find out!If you want to hear more of Ellie Morris and Henry Shields go check out the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.hellorhighrollers.com/" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Hell or High Rollers Podcast</a>!And if you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a>!<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Cult & Roses Chapter 4: A Sunken Temple

The hope, as always, is that all will be revealed at the Chapel of Ends. Unfortunately, despite Leopold’s Errant Mercenaries best efforts. It seems this House of the Dead is keeping its secrets. As Sticks and Tyke tussle with an amnesiac corpse, for whom even Speak with Dead is of no use, Ephraim investigates the mysteriously ash covered dead body of Penelope Solverson (he is then once again poisoned).&nbsp;Perhaps the answer lies instead with the living, in the salt encrusted taverns of the Fairburn City Docks.If you want to hear more of Ellie Morris and Henry Shields go check out the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.hellorhighrollers.com/" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Hell or High Rollers Podcast</a>!And if you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a>!<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

Cult & Roses Chapter 3: The Chapel of Ends

Suspicions are high as Leopold’s Errant Mercenaries begin to investigate, starting with the childhood bedroom of Jocelyn Solverson. Rather than providing an answer, the contents of the room only provoke further question. Tyke Baphammer destroys the rooms walls, convinced that a special diary lies within, Ephraim leaves the room entirely to investigate a suspicious lake to great effect (aside from the poisoning), and Sticks stands on a magic rock. As our heroes investigate something is beginning to become clear: the answer, whatever it is, lies deep beneath the waves.If you want to hear more of Ellie Morris and Henry Shields go check out the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.hellorhighrollers.com/" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Hell or High Rollers Podcast</a>!And if you're still wanting to pledge for the Jarren's Outpost Board Game you can right <a href="https://www.hiveinteractive.net/projects/jarrens-outpost-299" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">here</a>!<hr> Hosted on Acast. See <a style='color:grey;' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer' href='https://acast.com/privacy'>acast.com/privacy</a> for more information.

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Sanspants Radio

#552

Barovia V #8 To Test a Theory

#551

Barovia V #7 Control

#550

Barovia V #6 The Shapes that Bind Us

#549

Barovia V #5 Barovian Tea

#548

Barovia V #4 The Road is Dark and Terrible

#547

Barovia V #3 Pip's Bag of Tricks

#546

Barovia V #2 Simultaneous Regeneration

#545

Barovia V #1 Some Bridge Along That River

#544

Cult & Roses Chapter 5: GIVE ME THE CUP

#543

Cult & Roses Chapter 4: A Sunken Temple

#542

Cult & Roses Chapter 3: The Chapel of Ends

#541

Cult & Roses Chapter 2: The People At the Bottom of the Sea