MISC.
Tabletop Roleplay ideas, poems, and other things difficult to category.
Christmas Gifts
The greatest Christmas gift I ever received…
Of all the presents; stocking stuffers,
Toys, things of wood, of shining metal.
Precious things, games to play, books to read,
Places to see.
What among these, this vast hoard of treasures
Which would rival the fattest trove of any devious dragon,
What could claim to be the best?
To stand above the rest in singular distinction?
For its wonder, its beauty, its function?
Perhaps the most valuable, or largest, or rarest?
Perhaps, it cannot be held.
Or seen, or heard, or smelled.
No it cannot even be felt, but it summons feelings.
The greatest Christmas gifts of all,
More precious than any kingly crown, are memories.
Memories of many presents yes,
Of feasts and festivities.
Fires which warm from within in cold months and cold places.
Memories hold the presents and the foods and happily recalled feelings,
And so much more, none so singularly recalled.
Christmas memories are glimpses of candlelit churches,
With the smell of fresh trees, and the quiet of new fallen snow.
Smiling faces, lit by many twinkling lights on grand boughs,
Dressed up for the season.
There are tastes, of fresh baked cookies, sumptuous roasts,
Right along with th jokes told around the table,
And the Christmas films that never get old.
Always reminding us of the true meaning of Christmas
Memories hold the joy and anticipation,
Building right from putting up the first decorations
To a child who can't fall asleep on Christmas eve.
Warm fires and music that carries the spirit of the season in every note.
Love and Joy, happiness and even some sadness.
These make the memories, so eagerly recollected,
Like warmly lit windows on a frigid night.
Carrying one, wherever they may be,
To that place and those people most dear.
It is a gift which takes years to give, with much work, patience, and love.
But its value is greater than any gold, frankincense, or myrrh.
Truly blessed are we, and thankful,
Who have received such a treasure.
A treasure which only grows in value, and can never be spent up.
In our hearts is the wealth and glory of Christmas.
May it grow and grow with each passing year as we remember,
And in good cheer make greater and more wonderful our treasure.
We give this to each other.
Merry Christmas.
The Vanguard
A valley littered with bones
Scattered upon the earth like piled stones
Grinning skulls and sun-bleached backs
Wind whistling in empty chests, ribs full of cracks
From the blow of sword and mace
The remnants of a long forgotten race
Left to rot in the fields
With shattered spears and splintered shields
Who were they? Who so long ago
Fought to the last against the merciless foe
That left them dead where they lay
Food for ravens and beasts of prey
Wolves lapped up their blood and flesh
The worms and flies devoured the rest
Leaving only skeletons behind
The only thing left to remind;
The world that they fought and died there
Now only empty sockets stare
At the sky over the field of slaughter
Where wind and snow, sun and water
Wore away the rest
Not maille or standard nor helm with painted crest
Survived the weathering of years
None remain to over them shed tears
Valiant men once strong and bold
Now only bones withering in the mould
SWORD
I was taken from the Earth.
A stone smelted to reveal its worth.
Beaten by hammers, plunged in fire.
Shaped for warrior’s desire.
An edge I was given, sharp and keen.
Polished, balanced, and pristine.
A companion was made of wood and leather.
To keep me sharp, out of the weather.
I reflected like a mirror.
The deeds of those who held me near.
Given first to a king of old.
In battle brave and bold.
His foes trembled at his feet.
Before my edge their neck would meet.
A spear struck him in the breast.
My blade shone the faces of those who put him to rest.
I was not burned with him on the pyre.
But given to his son, me did he so admire.
I have been given I have been taken.
Looted from fields of death, forsaken.
Pirates, soldiers, knights, and kings.
Held me high and felt my stings.
On my blade reflected campfires, palaces, mountains, and seas.
Faces of triumph, of fear; men brought to their knees.
I have fed on blood and steel.
Edges chipped from the sanguine meal.
They sealed me away inside a tomb.
In dark and damp by rust consumed.
My stories lost with the lives I took.
Nevermore will hating eyes upon me look.
Sinking away into the soil.
Perhaps I shall be made again by toil.
ALIVE! HONORED!
The silence is broken, other projects will be updated soon. The nature of my work calls me away for periods of time, but while I yet live I will always return.
LaFond honors me with a profile:
https://www.jameslafond.com/article.php?id=14160
He is a truly gracious man and one who lives with the courage of his convictions. A rare breed and one of the last true warriors. Read his work and be inspired!
A Dream
Spring. The air is cool, the morning light is pink and pale. Small white flowers form a carpet around trees still bare from winter only recently departed.
I see her there. Flushed and fair. Glowing in that tender light, which morning only produces. She wears no smile on her lips, nor any expression on her brow. There is no need, peace prevails .
Birds sing gently through the boughs and branches. Each playing their part in the rich symphony. The flowers sway in a light breeze.
There are her eyes, searching in their depth. Like a purling stream in green and blue and gray. Now glancing from petal to branch, trunk to sky. Looking for nothing.
Hair pours down her back, long and full. Only a few strands disturbed by the breeze. Golden-brown and shining like a wood finely polished.
Softly her breast rises and falls with slowly drawn breaths. As she steps with care and grace among the blooms. I watch her pass behind a tree, she is gone. The birds are singing.
A Toast From The High Seat
A paper about the practice of feasting in Viking Age Scandinavia and its peculiarities compared to other cultures.
https://crosssection.gns.wisc.edu/2019/11/11/a-toast-from-the-high-seat-the-feast-in-the-viking-age/
Sacred Oak Spear
A spear with a shaft made of the wood of a still-living sacred ancient oak. The shaft is intricately carved with runes and animal figures.
The head is fine steel but can become dull and break like any metal.
The wood never chips or splinters, and metal weapons bounce off of it as if it were stone, but it is as flexible, springy, and light as the best wood.
It is said that it can be broken, but a giant would have trouble breaking this shaft.
If the oak dies the spear loses these properties.
Enhanced Grappling Rules for Roleplaying
Grappling is often over-simplified in roleplay gaming and does not offer the possibilities it does in reality. This is an attempt to fix that.
A skilled grappler can manipulate their opponent in myriad ways not limited to pinning and restraining. Depending on style they can break limbs, inflict damage by smashing their opponent on the ground, strangle them, or put them in a weaker position to be finished off with a weapon.
Grappling is a crucial part of armed combat and neglecting it makes for a less dynamic and believable game.
More versatile grappling rules enhance gameplay and player agency, opening up many new possibilities in combat and non-lethal encounters.
5E:
Everyone is a Grappler
Grappling/wrestling/open-handed-fighting is not the purview of one class or style of fighting, it may be necessary for any archetype of adventurer to engage in grappling at some point. This is a key aspect of close quarters fighting.
A strong character might grapple to push opponents around or hold them close to strike an opponent who would otherwise run, a more dexterous character might use it to off balance or trip opponents and give themselves and their teammates advantage, while a weaker character might only grapple to disengage from others’ attempts to wrestle them.
The feat would read:
You’ve developed the skills necessary to hold your own in close-quarters grappling. You gain the following benefits:
-increase your strength by 1 to a total of 20
-You have advantage on attack rolls against a creature you are grappling.
-You have advantage on grapple attempts and escaping from a grapple
-You can attempt joint locks, pins/restraints, power-throws, or strangles
The damage done by different types of grappling have different effects and durations. Joint lock damage (1d8+strength or dexterity) decreases movement or denies use of a limb and is only recovered through magical healing or several months of recovery. Power throws deal bludgeoning damage modified by the thrower’s strength or dexterity (1d10) critical hits have a chance to knock the one being thrown unconscious (if damage exceeds half their HP). Strangles act as a silence, if you take damage while strangling make a constitution save to maintain.