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With a squeak and a roar like the mew of a tired cat, the pixie's friend and trusty steed appears, diving down and out of the chimney and twirling through the air across the room-- all without accumulating so much as a spot of soot on its tail. It alights on the table and paces toward her...

It's Shayuri and I. Sorry, we've been talking tactics in PM.

You're talking about your pseudodragon familiar, is that right, Queenie? No problem if so, I just want to be sure. The tavern door thrusts open, and a man stands framed inside it. It's the red-skinned street preacher you saw earlier, the tiefling knight decrying the gods. His blue tunic appears...

I think Krupps is about as finished as I can make him, at this point. Having some pre-made traps would be nice, but the high-end one are bulky, expensive, and highly situational. The old-standbys, punji sticks, snares, nets, bear traps, caltrops, and so forth, are cheap, portable, and quick to...

Maybe. Maybe...

A sound you can't help but hear emanates from the street above: a concussive boom that rattles the door in its frame and sends empty mugs skittering across the floor. It reverberates briefly. Worried noises start to fill the tavern. Voices ring out, muffled by the tavern walls, but you can...

"Born in LA, raised in Bay City, for whatever that's worth. Lived in Frisco for a few years and bummed around South Asia a while, looking for inner peace, that whole deal..." He accepts the tankard from Graydon with a suspicious look, but then shrugs and drinks. "...and found all this, instead."...

...There's a lot to like here. Honestly, reskin the pregens a little bit (not even all that much), and the game I want is probably is probably within reach. Definitely looking forward to the full release of O.L.D, N.O.W, and N.E.W alike.

"Yeah, well, here I was, sort of hoping you'd be the one to tell me, man." Joe smiles wanly. "I could get back there, get us both back there-- if only I knew where there was. The trick of it, the real trick, is knowing where to start looking." He reaches up and scrubs his face and eyes with both...

That can certainly be arranged. :D Anything I'm likely to run myself would probably lean toward rules-lite, narrativist sort of stuff. Apocalypse World is a little mindbending at first, but it's not a matter of reading through a huge tome. Once you're past the jargon and notational quirks, it's...

The Culture. Heard of it? The novel series-- including Use of Weapons, Excession, The Player of Games, Look To Windward, and Consider Phlebas, among others-- and the hyperadvanced spacefaring socioanarchists of the same name? Described here by the author...

Comedy event! Nice. :)

Joe looks blankly at Liliana for a moment, then laughs. "Oz, well. Just take the mid-morning twister out of Topeka, I guess, and, uh, straight on 'til morning, little lady." He looks at the eponymous shard embedded in the priestess's forehead with an expression of faint discomfort. He...

Joe watches the modron as it walks around him for another lap. He holds up one hand and points down with a hooked finger. He grins. "Heh heh. Live one, here. This really takes me back. Summer of Love, you know?" He looks off into the empty air. "Yeah, uh, sort of, Picayune. Just the kind of...

Hawaiian Joe lets go easily, pursing his lips. "No offense meant, man. Sorry," he says, and shrugs. [Arcana] He did indeed cast a spell. Some manner of divination, if the all-seeing eye wasn't any indication. [Insight] Going by his tone, he doesn't seem to be overly fond of this whoever-it-is...

Joe looks at the 'drone with some sympathy. "Me, Tin Man? Ha, I'm a nobody, kid. Just another washed up flower child who went too far in search of enlightenment. Took a wrong turn at Alberquerque while walking the Eightfold Path, and wound up here."

Barstle cracks a slightly apologetic-looking grin. "Not that kind of place, lad, not necessary. I'll tell you whatever I can, but-- tell you the truth, I don't know anyone who went *to* there, to be fair. Not with any certainty. All the ones I've met came *from* this, er, Mystara of yours. Don't...

Adal draws you by the hand, down the hall, around the corner, past the silent kitchen and the larder into a small room. The cat watches you, with a knowing expression. A bunch of dried flowers is nailed to the door, which she closes softly behind you...

The man's shirt. Something about it... You've never seen things like those on the shirt he wears, certainly none in the past few hours you've been conscious, here in this dead, gray city. Yet something stirs at the back of your mind. Beyond that the endless golden gears of that shadowless...

It's no problem. :) It doesn't bother me to keep those discussions here if you do have a preference.