James R. Andersen

I found these rules I made for drinking while watching Conan the Barbarian. I remember this being a good time, but also having a debilitating hangover. I hope some of you will find this useful and entertaining.  Between the time when the TV was turned on and we rented this movie, and the rise of the people who have to piss during a crucial scene, there was an Age undreamed of, and unto this, a group of guys, destined to wear the hangover of Aquilonia upon a troubled brow. It is I - a wizard, mind you! - who alone can tell thee of their saga. Let me tell you of the days of communal drinking! PROVISIONS Only suitably Hyborian alcohols are allowed, e.g: beer, wine, mead, ale, bragget, cider, etc. (You’re gonna drink in bulk.) Buying a tankard/horn/goblet is not required but strongly encouraged, as are costumes.  For such a noble occasion a feast is in order! A light dinner is recommended as we shall devour a great spread during the event. Each must provide a piece of this, ...

     For the month of October I will be posting a new idea for a unique/magical TTRPG item each week/sometimes more frequently if I have more ideas. ANCIENT MASKS begin the hoard of rare items, found in an overgrown temple to a forgotten ancient god:  Ancient masks  These clay masks unsettle you when you look into their eyes. Holding different ones over your face have different effects.  You appear as a stranger to all people, someone they’ve never seen before.  Everyone thinks they know you.  You blend into any crowd.  You are invisible to kings.  You appear as a very old man. You appear as a young girl.  You appear as a poor beggar. You appear as a king.  No one who wishes to harm you can see you.

CONAN, now king of Aquilonia, is beset by traitors aided by the neighboring kingdom of Nemedia, determined to oust him from his throne. He is aging, now in his early forties, but in his full wisdom and cunning.             News reached the Aquilonian camp of a company of Nemedian cavalry moving across the border to flank Conan's host. The king took a troop of his most worthy knights to cut them off and drive them back across the border.  Autumn had set the forest ablaze. Leaves danced in the afternoon light, coming to rest gently on the forest floor.  They muffled the plod of heavy hooves stamping a sodden road. Spears and helms glinted in the light filtering between the trees. The image of a gold dragon on a black field waved on a pennant atop each lance. King Conan rode in front,  looming in his dark mail atop a powerful jet black stallion. His roughly chopped black mane lay carelessly over his mailled shoulder...