Friday, November 1, 2013

3 Adventure Hooks Dice Chucker style

It's inconceivable that any literate soul would give a shit about my answers to Zak's latest Pornstar questionnaire so instead, this will be my Onanistic OSR Offering of October (OOOoO).  

If you ever find yourself at my gaming table, these will give you some insight into how the night is likely to begin: 
  1. It's evening in Portown and you're walking through the Cheese Grater District when you hear someone yell out “Hey, smurfdick!”  You look around and see a bushy-haired man of small stature who seems to be staring right at you even though he has his pointy wool hat pulled down over his eyes.  “Yeah you-“  He then loudly mocks your [clothing/appearance/etc] so that there can be little doubt who he’s talking to.  “You fistfuckers lookin’ for somethin’ to do?  Cuz if you are, yer fuckin’ it up big time.”  You notice that he is standing in front of a bookseller’s stand with a papyrus sign tacked to it which reads: “Treasure maps for sale 50 gold ea. 100%  money back guarantee.”  Sure enough, the odd looking dude who runs the place has numerous maps for sale, an abridged list of titles includes:  “Orc stash”  “Lich cache” “Eagle Eryies” “Smaug” “Capt. John Swallow's booty"
  2. You walk through the crowded tavern to the one free table near the center of the room  [DM rolls percentile dice at least once for each party member, glances meaningfully at the PCs, but says nothing].  A barmaid shows up, plunks a mugful of sudsy ale in front of each of you, and brusquely demands payment.  After checking your pockets each of you realizes that you haven’t a copper on you.  You’ve been cleaned out.  The wench is getting pretty steamed, and several gents at nearby tables are starting to scowl menacingly at you.  Your way to the front door is blocked, but you could probably make it to the window near the hearth before the crowd closes on you.  But what lies outside the window?
  3. You’re en route to the Roosevelt Island tram when suddenly an enormous fucking bird swoops down at you, its gigantic claws large enough to carry off a draught horse and cart in each talon.  Roll for initiative.  [A successful strike by the bird means it has clasped on to one of the party members.  Once it does so, it flies away.  As the party watches, futiley launching arrows at its diminishing form, the bird flies off across the East River to that big-ass tower in the middle of Queens.]

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