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TWYLL watches as the Deathborne Shambling Mound raises flailing tendrils, intent on crushing this miracle-of-life-within-undeath as its final act before being extinguished in the onrushing waters. She could save herself. Head into the waters, safe from further attack. But that would mean...

TWYLL stares wide-eyed at the tiny plant, struggling in the putrescence yet glowing with life. The spy feels a strange kinship to it: in this plant she sees her younger self, another being whose joyous and living energy something foul attempted to smother. For her, it was the poisonous culture...

TWYLL’s outer senses heighten as her feet numb, and she quickly changes her game plan once again. Remembering those chilling sounds from the werewolf attacks long ago, the Bregan D’aerthe draws in a deep breath, holds it another moment, and, slowly, beginning in her lowest vocal range, lets out...

Her instincts honed by experience, TWYLL leaps into what will undoubtedly be bone-chilling water with barely any splash. After all, what is a little bit of cold to one raised in the depths of the frequently freezing Underdark? — DEFY DANGER When danger looms, the stakes are high, and you do...

PRITCHARD climbs in through the open window with less grace than the drow. Indeed, he resembles nothing less than a land-bound octopus awkwardly forcing its way between two rocks at the shore. In the public house and on two feet now, he straightens and smoothes his mustache reflexively. Giving...

My follow-up question is about your (c), Thayan political cleavages: What competing political loyalties threaten to undermine the hierarchy and goals of the Thayans’ leadership? My answer: While Szass Tam demands absolute obedience from his lieutenants, as do they, in turn, demand the same from...

In BitD, the player decides which Action to roll, with the only caveat being don't be a weasel. So it really depends on the accompanying fiction of each instance of cannon use. But your list seems like an okay rough starting point, so long as the decision rests with the player and not the GM.

Wowzers. Cool to see a new handbook, especially from you, after all this time.

Pritchard stands impotently at the banks of the Neverwinter. He rattles his swordcane, stowed temporarily on a loop of his belt, in frustration. He throws out his arms. The far shore, even here at the river's narrowest, is about as far away as he would manage tossing even a fist-sized rock...

"Yes, yes, for the thousandth time, yes!" PRITCHARD sighs in exasperation. "I understand the demands this route will put upon us, Twyll. But you heard the dwarf: I have three days to help resolve his problems on top of this injunction placed upon me by my ... rather deceased and nameless...

In the weird, green, alchemical light, PRITCHARD’s eye is drawn to the silver pin clasp of the spectral entity’s gray cloak. Once a Harper? The reputation–once pristine, that of noble defenders of the downtrodden against the various evil threats, magical and mundane, that threaten the Realms...

Despite the sense of an otherworldly presence drawing nearer, TWYLL grimly continues to focus on her task at hand: the assassination. As the captain ignores her and presents his back to her as a perfect target in order to climb back atop his horse, she stabs her short sword upward into the small...

As the hairs stand on the back of PRITCHARD’s neck, he recognizes the source of this new flight response: an undead creature nearby, within this very guardhouse! Poor news, that. Rather poor news, indeed. His mind races frantically. Slow down, he tells himself. He inhales slowly. Exhales. Any...

As the hoofbeats of the three riders echo ominously off the stone buildings and cobbles, PRITCHARD shivers reflexively. "Deuced eerie place, this is!" he thinks. His part in this ... murder ... is assuredly the easier: draw the Mintarns' attention long enough for Twyll to ambush Plinth from...

PRITCHARD spies Ansel's hand reaching for an improvised weapon, hears the menace in Ironvice's voice, and edges back into the main sales floor. "Gentlemen, gentlemen." He holds up his hands. "Let us keep our heads about us. This is a house of commerce, not the Great Yard at Castle Never. We...

PRITCHARD's shoulders slump slightly under the reproach. "Yes, Belyse," he hisses through clenched teeth. "No one is more aware of my ... predicament ... than I. I wouldn't be here out of anything other than sheer desperation. "Surely you recognize Lady Lily-Rose Crowleister from the gaming...

[Once again, dear readers, I consolidate herein this tidy post multiple Moves and fictional components made by both @Nephis and myself for clarity and concision.] Considering the magical sensor before her, TWYLL's blood runs cold. Then her brain kicks into overdrive, considering the various...

Besides addressing the two bullet points above, some more color backstory and intervening Moves, consolidated here in one post for ease of reading. Twyll uses the heated discussion over Thundertree between the Graycloaks as a distraction to scoot from behind the Forsaken Mermaid and back up the...

[In this entry, I post both for myself and @Nephis, with her permission and following her instructions. And, yes, the scene being set at the inn is color; there is no mechanical play (Recover, spending of Coin, and so on).] As Blackmantle and Lady Lily-Rose ascend the wide, creaking staircase...

As Neverember's man-at-arms ends his declamation and silence settles over the tavern, two things happen: seething tension rises, palpably, from some of the assembled; and Twyll leans in to whisper in PRITCHARD's ear, "Violence is about to break out. Oh, and your lady friend, the one with the...