Dan, if you would like me to take these down then please let me know. For the rest of you, some of Basic Red can still be found on the Wayback Machine. It is well worth a read.
|Add...a bunch of stuff this time I guess, this is not that usable really?|
Weeks ago a note was delivered to you by an indistinct bird-like space. It formally requested your attendance at a wedding for two people youd never heard of, much less met, in the city of Morlojog. Your curiosity has gotten the better of you - or maybe you just cant resist an open bar - and here you find yourself, at Morlojog, surrounded by strangers, near the Mouth of Morlojogoth, the cathedral of Morjog the Inevitable. (These names can be confusing but they make more sense in the original Molg.)
Your local lord or duchess or whatever received such an invitation. Perhaps they are curious, perhaps they are embarrassed at having forgotten such an occasion, perhaps they are furious, perhaps they are merely observing courtly custom. Either way you are their envoy, and you have very specific business with the bride and groom once all this is over.
Theres a gift in your pack. You thought it was absolutely delightful at the time you bought it, and later decided to give it to someone special. Now youve lost your way, and wearing your finery at that! Its odd that you decided to dress to the nines for this ride. Now you find yourself outside this hard to pronounce town...hey a wedding! That sounds like fun. And you wont even feel uncomfortable crashing because you have a gift with you! That was fortunate! A string of coincidences has led you here, like an anglerfish, and you are none the wiser.
You were at home, in bed. It was night. Now where are you? Did you get dressed in the dark? Did you giftwrap your spare boots? Without knowing why you know youre at a wedding and that you need to just go along with it and not upset anything. You know the bride and groom on sight...well, not KNOW them, youve never set eyes on them before, maybe not even someone of their species, depending on where you're from and what you are.
Morlojog is an up and coming city-state that has made tremendous strides in the last sixty years. You'd been meaning to see what all the fuss was about and on learning of the upcoming festival, the 100th Flowering Festival Morlojog has had since installing their first monarch, you decided that now was the perfect opportunity. The inns are all at capacity and even the citizens are turning away would-be-lodgers and their gold, strangers stuffed in the rafters. So you wander, and in wandering you come upon this church...
Your hands are shaking. Your mouth is dry. The air smells like iron and fire. Your breaths are quick and deep. Everyones eyes look stoned, and youre sure that yours do as well. Forgotten instincts that once screamed at you in the dark about serpents, about wolves, ABOUT the dark, howl and scratch at you now. Youll die here if you dont do somethingbut you cannot stop the ceremony. You cannot change this one moment of crystallizing salt, this fate. Somebodys getting married. That is etched as fact in the bedrock of your existence.
However you've arrived, you're here now, and you're having a bit of trouble remembering what you've been doing lately. You may know where you are, or even why you came here in the first place, but the story begins as in a dream and you never learn much about what you dreamed just before. You may have walked into town, had a sandwich, rented a room, fucked a dude, it's all a blur. You set out, and now you're here, Ed Helms as shit.
This all started centuries ago. It begins with the wedding.
THE BIG NAMES
Felias the Bastard- Fuck Druid and vagrant. Detect Evil, Detect Magic, Invisibility, Dispel Magic, and Cantrips (everything he does can be done with a magical fancy flair but to a terrible-at-a-party extent, nothing more). For AC assume it's been a while and he had no partners the night before, but he IS high on shrooms. He's in this for power and riches but he doesn't know the true cost or risk. He is a pawn and foolish and easily manipulated.
Tarrywhile- Flower Girl in name and act. Faerie-touched child whose curse made her uniquely suited to withstand the Queen's presence and act as her voice, Queen In Name with all her power and authority. She has been wooed by another party, darker and older, and acts as her second here. Can animate plants and is something of a young womandrake herself. Mind and shape of a child.
Gamorjog- Underpriestess of the Inevitable, conducting a lone vigil in the Undercathedral Worldgut. Knows Charm Person, Snake Charm, Entangle, Web, Spider Walk, Fly. She is ashamed of her body and how far it is from death, so she hides it in thick wraps and long robes. Her beautiful face is detachable, revealing green muscle and blood beneath. She is about 20' tall. Whispers everything because gargoyles are everywhere.
Shoof- Gamorjog's familiar mongoose. Speaks Elf, can cast Forget, has 20% chance to Identify on any attempt, 12HP, base AC, 2 natural attacks(d2) per round with +1 to hit. He'll follow the party if they flee Morlojogoth.
Candecima fa Greenlion- Queen for most of Morlojog's 100 Years. Architect of her recent splendor. Bulwark against the symbiont. THE MEGADUSA. Appears nude, 14' tall without snakes, her skin the color and texture of a chalkboard. Her snakes billow out like a cloud, filling any chamber she's in in time. They obscure her face and, should she feel modest, her naughty bits to get by the Comics Code Authority. She has a limited ability of brachiation and locomotion with these snakes, and they keep her untainted by the influence of the Party Crasher. Enthrall x2, Cause Fear x2. Her snakes know 6 spells and can Summon as if casting a Level 9 spell. They constantly nip at the air, though the enlightened can see they keep her free from the tendrils of Morjog.
Hadriach Quicksilver- Devout chaplian (dwarf if you like that shit) coming to scourge from the very face of the world a gargoyle army which roosts at Morlojog. His god (roll on table or other) does not answer his prayers, to his dismay, but he has a bunch of cleric scrolls and a column of warriors stepping to his lead on a divine crusade (he assures them). He approached Morlojog roughly the same time the PCs did and has set up camp several hours' ride out, within sight of the city and the blood at its gates, praying for a sign.
Greenlion Ducagne- First Regent and Dead King of Morlojog, first to be taken in the movings of the underchapel. Lays untouched on an altar to 'Morjog' within Worldgut. Acts as fifth level fighter, all weapons and armor magic. Can only be woken from his patient death by a kiss from a snake.
Food- Goat with a demon in it, waiting in Morlojogoth to be sacrificed to the union of Felias and Gamorjog and seal it. He will beg for death in the tongue of elfs, and if slain outside of the ceremony frees the demon within. The demon is a threat but can be bargained with once free.
Handsome Prince Skeleton- Heir to the Bone Throne of the Skeleton Kingdom and if your game doesn't have a skeleton kingdom what is mouse guard like i always wondered. His touch turns you into a skeleton who can level, poison and gasses don't affect you but neither do potions and you can be turned. When transformed you must save with a minor penalty to avoid being Charmed with no additional save on the immediate horizon. You can learn the skeletonization spell using Speak With Dead or Read Brains after killing him, and while you can kill him that will cause many of the festivals to snowball and the Party Crasher grows stronger and big chunks of Morlojog start crumbling as a hundred years' dead starts dancing. He will re-emerge from this, a vessel for the creature. Guest at the wedding.
CHIEF GODS VENERATED IN MORLOJOG
Morjog the Inevitable- The local sports team, bringer of destruction and death and the clearing away of stones and spires, whose adherents' only prayer is "But Not Yet." The believe fundamentally in the eventual doom Morjob brings but ask him to postpone a wee bit. Morjog is the name ascribed to the great stone face Morlojogoth was built around, a carving which predates Morlojog. Nothing true is known of is provenance and Morjog has become something of an anchor for loose beliefs and superstition, a religion accruing about him like a reef, or like voodoo. Many things are like voodoo with Morjog. In truth many who worship Morjog hang a convenient face over the one whom their actions truly serve, the Party Crasher, and it is its undercathedral which is nested in Worldgut beneath the face of Morjog.
Adl- The godtwin children who have no names of their own, worshiped as one being. They are the feeders of the sun and their governances are youth, fertility, and harvest, so the city's into them right now in a BIG way. A traditional deityform whose holy rites are being profaned by this Intrusion.
Nekkiuradedafesasas- Beautiful and austere goddess of color, luxury, and remote beauty, she brings vim and savor to life so in a way all festivals are hers but she abhors the baseness and vulgarity of them.
Good Queen Skeleton- Standing Goddess and ruler of the Skeleton Kingdom, empress of undeath and alms, quartered at the castle, only came to town to find her son a mate. Same abilities as Handsome Prince Skeleton and so long as she lives neither can be turned. She also can confer a Quest and Bless at will
Toferum- Self-loathing and ashamed god of shame, not normally worshiped much in Morlojog but many of his pilgrims are in town trying to restore order and more were ensnared by the Party Crasher's subtle side effects.
Moon Slave- Haunting god. Wager of victory. Father to horrors. Not specifically worshiped in Morlojog, like there are no temples to Moon Slave, there are fields and graveyards and orgies and camels to Moon Slave. His prayers are the lamentation of the basically fucked and the fucking-done-with-this.
THE PARTY CRASHER/THE INTRUDER/THE SYMBIONT/MORJOG THE INEVITABLE/THE WORM
You wake up one morning and realize you can't find your wedding ring. Where is it? Did it come off in the night? In the bath? In the street? While you were drunk? At the gigolo? You must find it. Your emotional attachment to your spouse, your conditioning to the ritual, your investment (financial and psychic) in the tradition, all drive you on this hunt. It's a symbol of the bond you share and the vows you made when you got married.
There's no such thing as spouses.
There is no tradition.
Society recognizes your union as it recognizes a mosquito.
You did not have a wedding ring before this morning.
You are forging this bond and your memories and your friends' memories by searching for that ring, finding it, putting it on.
Weddings are predators.
Everyone knows there is an invisible ecosystem which nests over ours like a laminate. This is what Gelatinous Cubes actually are, for one, cubelike within architectural confinement but otherwise sprawling, sometimes towering, consuming cellular intelligence. [[This is also one reason I find outer planes so boring, there's so much weird shit right here that we can't perceive.]] But there are other things out of there, and many which don't have the same relation to physical contact as most things we understand, and some of them feed on flesh and some of them feed off of dreams and some feed off unicorns or some shit and there is ONE creature which feeds on a collective knowledge of our own mortality. There was a time when it fed on something else, OVERFED, to extinction, and it lay dormant like a water bear all that time until the current age when we (and I guess elves and shit) became evolved enough to be susceptible to its influence. Foxes don't have birthdays. Birds don't have funerals. We retain the memories of the most traumatic and exceptional periods, build our personality around them, and that's catnip to this creature. If this were some kind of space telephone show I'd say that the creature puts out psychic filaments through the past that we follow like bread crumbs to an unavoidable conclusion, like a slime mold or an angler fish, and if I was some Hercules motherfucker I'd say this thing ties strings of its own onto the threads of fate we all inexorably follow.
It keeps us busy with a shadow, and that shadow is togetherness, happiness, remembrance, community, family, tradition....Oneness. Shared Milestones. What casts that shadow is a little ticking away going on in the back of our minds at all times noting how much closer we are to death, how much we have to lose, the unavoidable nature of change.
It hunts with holidays.
We know this creature in many forms and could be forgiven for assuming that there are many types of creature like this when, in fact, they are all part of the strange life cycle of this creature, stretching across multiple epochs all at once, a contiguous space caterpillar, constant across cultures in part, capable of conceptual bilocation, yet not constant across itself.
This is the Very Hungry Calendar.
We are all of us inside it to an extent and its little cillia and hookworm-like appendages are attached to our soulstuffs. MUs 2nd level and up constantly perceive the creature we are inside, even if they are not sure of its nature, as a kind of filter atop normal life. If you have orcs and elfs and shit then they're being fed on too, though the tendrils which drag through them may be a different shape or color to a MU's eyes. Clerics may be shown by their gods or illuminated in some fashion, treat it like a Detect Evil spell that doesn't so much Detect Evil as it does Show Me The Maggot I'm In. The undead will have some vestigial or emaciated connection to the beast's inner stomachs, though not nearly as much as a living thing, and powerful characters in Morlojog such as the Megadusa may control their connection to this creature. Otherwise if they exist they are part of the inside-out parasitic relationship we all are.
This ur-thing has no will. It has no commands or aspirations, it is a process-as-entity. But it is KNOWN and worshiped by many faces and names, often by MUs of some stripe. One such follower has conflated her service of the creature with the traditions of Morjog, our friend Gamorjog the underpriestess, and she wants to allow the great worm exit into physical existence (insty-death for the world entire) by completing a ritual to summon it within Worldgut and having it exit through the ornamental stone doors carved into the Mouth of Morjog in Morlojogoth.
Gamorjog, pulling together threads of her own, has summoned people from the forty-seven kingdoms, and has anchored herself to the summoning with the wedding to Felias, whose mind will be cleansed and through whom she can touch and copulate with the 'mind' of 'Morjog.' As the manifestation grows closer the coils of Morjog wrap tighter around the city-state and other holidays begin to break out from the weight of the thing, to the confusion of all.
Morjog can be directly targeted with some spells (up to DM which) IF you are aware of it, otherwise the conceptual framework of the wedding and the other festivals and their execution must be disrupted as much as possible. See below.
Morjog and Gamorjog are both opposed.
Imperial Megadusa Candecima is Majordomo to Gargoyle. Not gargoyles, although that, too.
You and I don't see eye to eye. Nobody sees anything like you. Nobody remembers those events the way you do. Nobody remembers anything the way you do. We are each of us different creatures whose recollections are shaped by the baggage we already bring to the table. This is a spell effect and it's how gargoyles hunt and reproduce. Gargoyles are the same in mind, flock mentality carried to bees-level, one will that is only a parliament of itself broken down into form so it can touch other form and therefore grow. Most creatures are naturally of a consciousness with their kin but gargoyles, being the apex predators they are, have shaped the world around them in the way that they hunt. They break us up into individuals, divide and conquer, major rule of engagement. These individual perspectives make uniting against the gargoyle menace increasingly difficult and also allows for us to experience inspiration and creativity. We carve what we are afraid of, and provide them with a vessel to kill us with. "That's a gargoyle. The building is covered in them. They're all over this part of town, really, from centuries ago. THAT'S PERFECTLY NORMAL. It gives me an idea..." and then gargoyles on album covers, bands NAMED Gargoyle, cartoons, stat blocks, form after form and we can't kill ourselves with gargoyles fast enough.
We live under an enchantment. This is the whole reason language and the press evolved, abstraction, giving the gargoyle a form they can't use, trapping them in all their forms in description on parchment. Memory and self awareness are actually defense mechanisms, then, against Gargoyle. Those who can recall things perfectly and who have perfect self awareness are canny evaders of the gargoyles, but they are also so boring that they can't populate an active resistance.
All the interesting people get to fuck, quickening the death haste of our species, while we subconsciously try to fight sculpture with poetry.
Gargoyle can manifest in any prepared 'gargoyle' but not every 'gargoyle' is always aware and animate. They can bop around and coordinate like the bad guys in the Matrix a little. Candecima has orchestrated the growth of Morlojog solely to build up the gargoyle presence, partly through attracting artisans, partly through taking castoffs from quarries and colleges around the world, and partly through her own gifts as the Megadusa, giving Gargoyle an endless variety of forms and a ubiquitous presence.
Morlojog happens to be where Morjog is going to be made manifest so Candecima insinuated herself into its history at the behest of Gargoyle, preparing against this day, because 1) the methods of predation used by Gargoyle and Morjog oppose one another and Gargoyle needs to protect its crop, which means B) they can't let it get wiped the hell out by an extinction level event. As the wedding approaches they all wake and flock, once the wedding begins the skies and streets are full of the things and they will seek to weaken the strength of Morjog's hold in an area by killing whoever they see most caught up in the spirit of things. This may include the PCs.
Gargoyle exists completely apart from the tendrils of Morjog, and they have no contact. The strength of an individual gargoyle will depend on the care, craft, and creativity that went in its carving.
THE HUNGRY CALENDAR
The adventure begins in Morlojogoth. Stepping foot outside will thrust you fully into the belly of the thing and you'll be subject to a side-effect of Morjog's mounting presence if you don't save. Associated effects and distinct features for each are listed, as well as any local customs specific to Morlojog. Each festival/effect/stage in Morjog's life cycle corresponds to a district in and around the city, and outside of your initial save (first person outside saves vs Wedding, all others roll 1d12 and saves vs that, I'm thinking save vs spells) you won't encounter the worst each district has to offer unless you venture there. Some effects float from district to district. Some effects and some quarters are worse than others.
- The Wedding. Centered around Morlojogoth. Til death do you part. Most of the major players listed above are here, excepting the Queens and the dead King and Hadriach. Even the officiant is going to be just an ensorcelled victim consecrated only by Gamorjog's will as underpriestess. Many attendants and guests are simply the faithful of Morjog who don't even blink when things start getting nasty, so deep into the Kool-Aid are they that they don't register it. Tarrywhile can animate the blue lilies here and force them into your mouth, magically transporting you to another part of the town where you IMMEDIATELY encounter some other aspect of the madness. She is accompanied by a bodyguard loyal to the Megadusa, whose spears are petrifying. Tarrywhile's bouquet is semi-alive and will crawl around aimlessly if dropped, like a Roomba, catching it or picking it up binds you to Felias like a powerful Quest and you must marry him on pain of death. There are some general city watch here, providing security. Gargoyle WILL interrupt the service, crawling from all over, can even take possession of the ice sculptures in the room. The harpists here are shrill but compelling agents of the underpriestess, and you take a penalty to saves the longer you're in earshot or until you kill the harpists. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: You become paladin to this wedding, wanting it to succeed at all costs, and more SPECIFICALLY you want to have the most and best presents for the bride and groom.
- Your Birthday. You don't know how you forgot. You'll be dead soon.You are shadowed by a past version of yourself, dead from some brutality, who can read your thoughts and will announce if you're being misleading. Otherwise it bears you no ill will but you must kill it in order to be free from it. The music is strange, the dumbest thing you ever said set to music, and you have to save or dance like a drunkard. Loud drunks will hang on you, telling you how great you are, weighing you down and attracting attention and prompting a wandering enemy check. Passing clowns dressed like birds of paradise wear paper masks, and will try to force one on you. Removing it sees your face transformed into that of a fleshless gory bird face, which is what you'll see if you remove their masks. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: Someone gives you a present, 30% creature otherwise roll loot table, and you really feel your age...-2 to Con and Wis.
- The Harvest. The Morlojogoth faces this district so if you leave the temple and run straight away toward the city walls you'll run through here first. The streets are cracked with wheat and her borders are a twisting maize. Running through the thick sawgrass that grows there draws 1hp per round of blood. Everything is bad if you are here. Scarecrows, which are really only another form of Gargoyle, stalk the streets. The lashes of Morjog are thicker here, at its hungriest, and will attempt to consume you, gaining +4 to hit any who can't see them. Swarms of locusts cover many things in this quarter and people go about obliviously, even as they are consumed. There is a thick smoke wafting through the district which (save vs poison) may choke you, aging you 1d6 years. Headhunters can be found lurking within. There is an entire house which has been boarded up for the purposes of stirring a rich spiced ale. People around the house are all fighting. Drinking the ale grants you 1 level and summons 1d4 headhunters. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: You reap bounty, gaining 1d10x10 extra gold, but your d10 result is the number of scarecrows who immediately manifest and book ass to your location.
- Fertility. The streets here on the far side of town are completely deserted, and everyone from neighboring districts assumes the worst, especially when the people exploring this territory don't come back. In reality all the children in this district have been bound into sacks and thrown in the street, and everyone else is inside just rabidly fucking. The sacks the children are in are being nipped at by mongooses. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: Your Charisma is now 18. Don't tell the player this but if you have sex, both parties become pregnant, the painful gestation period takes about 30 minutes, birth does 1d6 damage, and you give birth to an adult feral mongoose who attacks you.
- Midwinter. You're halfway toward life, in the kingdom of death and hunger, and you'd do anything to feel alive again. You'd sacrifice anything. You'd sacrifice anyone. There is a darkness here, a night dimmer than night, even at midday. Magic and fire lightens things up, sure, but cannot disperse this moltendark. Without fire or magic you will only stumble blindly, seeing glimpses of owls, of wolves, of other things. There is a hunger here and the starving and emaciated crawl and writhe in the streets. They mean you no harm but will reach out blindly for you, grasping at you, seeking help, and they will overwhelm you unless you whack em a little. There is a cold here. Save +2 vs experiencing a ghoul-like paralysis (ghoul-LIKE, so if you use elves it affects them too). This paralysis can be 'thawed' with proximity to fire, but otherwise may only be Dispelled or broken by leaving the city walls. 60 minutes of unattended paralysis of this kind brings death. There is a sacrifice going on in the square here, a pitiful and beaten elephant in the full glow of raging fires. If the sacrifice is carried out the participants will smear themselves with blood and race around attacking onlookers. The district of the city where this is happening has a temple to Adl. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: You don't quite become full berserker but blood is your answer to everything. Think of it as an alignment change: you're not lawful neutral, you're VIOLENT PROACTIVE.
- Midsummer. Things are pretty okay here, maypoles, picnics, doe-women and rabbit men....those bird clowns listed in the Birthday section are here, and there's a bit of a wicker man situation brewing this twig golem full of ducks, but the golem keeps the other quarters out of this one's business so whatever. All the flowers on the posts and windows here are wildflowers. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: You are eternally cheery and optimistic until you get out of the city. You're pretty sure you can handle anything. Everything's coming up Milhouse.
- Honoring the Dead. The dead live, and are one-tier-resistant to turning. All the alive people seem to have fled. Nope: they simply take on a deathlike appearance. The dead people are trying to pick up their lives where they left them and the seemingly-dead are huddling in the only quarter where people aren't trying to kill them on sight. The cemetery here is like a pay-per-view wrestling event with every bastard who ever lived fighting all the other bastards, and every hero who ever lived trying to contain every monster they ever slayed in this city. Everyone is fair dripping in valuables that they were buried with. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: You take on a corpse-like appearance. Turn Undead does not hurt you but can send you running.
- Holy Meditation. Religious unrest throughout the city manifests in a weird price-war-of-the-soul in this area as every inhabitant tries to show themselves the most pious, the most repentant. There's whipping, self whipping, stranger whipping, wailing, heaping ash, mutilation, suicide, burning of worldly possessions....acolytes of different faiths wage war with one another openly, a crusade in the streets. If you worship your own strange god you may entreat them and feel them closer to you. Clerics should be considered 2 levels higher for casting purposes but casting a spell means everyone in eyeline to you has a Morale 12 desire to fucking kill you for your blasphemy. There isn't much rhyme or reason to which of the deities listed above everyone is fighting for. Families are split apart. Morjog devotees have bouquets of the teleportation lilies. All the weirdest people are fighting for Moon Slave. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: Consider yourself under the Quest effect of one of the gods listed above. Each session you ignore this quest you suffer -1 permanently to Max HP.
- Gorge. Every culture has a feasting, in celebration or sadness, and there is a feasting at the walls of the city. The villages and private farms surrounding the kingdom have emptied. Their peoples pound against all of Morlojog's gates in an atavistic frenzy. They attack and consume one another. They all smell like delicious food, and animals and monsters flock to feed on them. More show every hour. If the gates fail then the city will be quickly overrun with punching and biting cannibals and mad dogs and carrion seekers. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: You smell distractingly delicious and small animals will seek you out, following you or attacking you.
- Remembrance. You're gathered here to mark an occurance. It was a long time ago. It was probably more important than anything you'll ever do, and everyone who did it is dead. Soon you'll be dead too. Probably. Everyone is very solemn about it and adorned in signifiers - bands, flowers, strange hats, paints, stains - if you ask them why they'll say "tradition" and ignore your further inquiries. Many people are openly sobbing in the streets, and others are raving from the rooftops about sings long past and glory which can never be reclaimed. This district is centered on Candecima's palace. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: A regret which haunts you physically manifests. You vomit out a small animal with 1HD, gaining 1HD when you level. This animal will stick close to you and remind you of what it represents, even if you're sneaking. It can be killed but immediately Summons a creature HD equal to the creature's current HD.
- Passage. An item must be conferred by you, or to you. Mutilation is required, yours or another's. You are invited to dine on living manflesh. A quest is issued. Obesience is demanded. You are to be scarred in consecration to the gods, and gain 1d6 to an ability. You must kill. You must be killed. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: You're now 12 again and won't be considered a man/woman until you either break the spell by leaving the city OR do some of the above bullshit all the pre-teens are doing to each other in the associated district. When you're 12 you get +1 Charisma, +2 Dexterity, -2 to all saves.
- Wake. There is a pile of dead people by/in/draped over the fountain, surrounded by mostly tipped over but still burning candles. Everybody else here is fucking ripped on something and will fight you for not showing the proper respect to...whoever. Anybody who they kill gets added to the pile, there's 3 minutes of crying, and then back to the bacchanal. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: You are piss-ass drunk. -2 tohit until you're out of sight of the town.
- Rebirth. There must always be a renewal and change. A passing of moons, seasons, and years. A shedding of an old skin. The mood is somewhere between Times Square on Dec 31 and the video of that Puppet Master guy from the Heaven's Gate cult. Orcs kissing dwarves, that kind of shit. SAVE VS PARTIES OR: You retain all your abilities and skills but lose all specific memories like Jason Bourne. You can never roll to recall something specific from before this save was failed. If you have spells you forget them, and even that you are a caster, but if you still have a spellbook or a mentor in the faith you can always relearn them tomorrow.
When the ceremony begins: Gargoyles will attack. Felias will freak the fuck out and throw his spells at it, Dispelling the effect that holds his side of the church enthralled. You're free to flee but while within the church the gargoyles will not be interested in you. You're momentarily free from Morjog's direct influence, only connected from past events and cultural touchstones. If you can steer clear of Tarrywhile you can do a little looting of the church and the gifts table.
When you step outside the church: Roll your save as mentioned above, and if you fail it then the gargoyles are suddenly interested in you and in killing you. They try to gobble you up but you just fall out of their mouths like Cookie Monster.
If the Wedding completes: Felias will become temporary conduit to the Morjog-thing. He will open the not-actually-doors in the Mouth of Morlojogoth and descend stairs that shouldn't be there into the Underchapel. If he makes it all the way to the dais there he and Gamorjog will consummate their union. His body will be popped like a balloon, hers will be destroyed, Morjog will manifest more materially, the city dies instantly, its tendrils wrapping around the world become too heavy, the ground breaks up, and like animals and shit not already killed by their connection to Morjog all die as they burn in space.
If Felias is killed: A new groom with some casting ability will be chosen and everything will begin again, but there are rules to these things so it will take a few days for all social rituals to be observed and the wedding can recommence with a new cast. The rest of the situation deteriorates throughout the city.
If Morjog is targeted directly: Some holy crap "I wish there was no Tiamat" magic can get rid of Morjog but nothing short of that. That said disrupting and destroying the sacraments and observances of the other festivals throughout the city should be enough to unbalance things to the point where this ancient plan has to be scrapped. Interpret that as narrowly as you like, and assume each stage of Morjog's life cycle has 1000 'hit points.' Obliterating any segment of the worm reduces the other segments (except the Wedding) by 100hp. Obliterating the Wedding before the other segments obliterates all but one aspect of the worm's life cycle, which pops back up to 1000hp and spreads across the entire town thicker and stronger than before.
While all of this is happening, by the way....
- Stray dogs and loose pets roam the streets, glorying in the chaos.
- The rats swarm and surge, unable to get out of the city, a near-mad mass.
- Opportunistic robbers who made their saves are ransacking the place.
- All the food stalls, taverns, and inns are open, but all stores and private residences are shut up, guarded, as is local custom, by 1d4 baboons.
- And, as mentioned, the holy and pious chase one another across the city with murder in their hearts.
SMALL ENCOUNTER TABLES
- Morjog cultusts. 3rd level Fuck Druids. Charm Person, Command, and Drunk Reversal prepared.
- Gargoyles. Roll 1d5 to determine HD of each, they get their HD-1 attack each round. This reflects the quality of their construction.
- Drunken revelers who pick a fight when jostled.
- The overwhelmed authorities, making frazzled demands of the PCs and others, imposing violent will on any they can.
- Felias, hiding in terror.
- Effigy Priests, servants of Candecima and Gargoyle, carry knives tainted by Megadusa venom, will stab themselves to become new Gargoyle vessels.
- Piecemeal Hydras, balls of dismembered snakes controlled by the Megadusa, they can separate from their balls and chase people, trailing petrifying blood.
- Children. They will scatter and be picked off without your help.
- Moleman slaves.
- Stalacrabs, who tunnel in and drag away the moleman slaves.
- Mosaic gargoyles, from the great glittering tableau the molemen busy themselves in destroying, one of the earliest salvos against Morjog by the ancient peoples.
- Morjog cultists, Summon prepared x3.
- Full strength gargoyles.
- Stained glass gargoyles, found only within the Underchapel herself, a last ditch Hail Mary against Morjog.
- The Untouched King, Greenlion Ducagne, lying in state perfectly preserved. Can only be woken by a kiss from a snake. Level 5 Fighter with all-magic armor and weapons.
- Altar of Morjog, six big pieces of loot here, taking anything from altar turns it into a giant bloodworm, killing it restores it to the item it was.
I used a picture of King's Landing from Google for the city map and random interiors.
Thanks to +Zak Smith, +Scrap Princess, +Chris P., +A. Miles Davis, +Josh Stone, +Claude Weaver, and my wife for helping me to get my notes in order.
If you get the Megadusa and Gamorjog into some giant naked sorceress wrestling constest, Godzilling through the town while everyone runs screaming, congratulations on the best thing anyone will do at a game in 2015.