21 - The Turning of the Yuletide
11 months ago
– Thu, Dec 21, 2023 at 04:03:24 PM
Happy holidays, whichever they are that most appeal to you and yours!
We here at TinkerHouse come into the home stretch of the holiday season with a feeling of immense gratitude and appreciation for everyone who’ve supported our creative endeavors over the years. It’s a real honor to be able to make something you think people will enjoy, and have the people you make it for gather together to support and enable the making. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.
Though the House of Tinker is winding down for a holiday break with our families we do have some notable updates, in the form of a report on our presence at PAX Unplugged, a production update, some new Marshall art, and the conclusion of our iconic adventurers' journey to the Abattoir of Avarice. This update requires no action on your part.
First: PAX Unplugged.
We brought to the show our largest booth ever, measuring twenty feet by twenty feet. We set up a dining-room-table-size battlefield of our TinkerTurf sci-fi wargaming terrain, a fully-functional retail shop, and a dedicated build area where attendees could get their hands on assembling TinkerTurf for donation to the PAX communal terrain library. But the highlight, for those who Vault, was the front-and-center display of early-prototype pieces from the Vault of Mini Things. We figured PAX Unplugged attendees would be the most receptive audience for what we’re offering in the Vault and that turned out to be true.
I tried jotting down the superlatives but it got to be too many. Here’s a sampling:
“Wow! This is the exact thing I’ve been looking for. I’m a DM and I came here looking for an all-in-one platform. I’d left the show and was in my car and ready to go, and then thought I’d go back for one more lap. I’m so glad I found you!”
This was a real comment!
“Really love the way the colors pop!”
“This is so smart. This solves my storage problem.”
“I wish I’d found this two years ago, before I accumulated my Unpainted Minis Box of Shame.”
“I love that it’s a box of art. And I love that it’s a box of CONSISTENT art.”
“It’s big enough to give me everything I’d need, without having to piecemeal a bunch of stuff from a bunch of sources.”
“Oh wow, this is something I need for my house.”
We had to caution folks that what they saw on the table were visual prototypes intended to give a sense of art style and scale, rather than production prototypes of retail-quality materials. But even when picking up the minis and mockups that we’d printed at home, on consumer-grade printers, folks were blown away. It was especially encouraging to see so many women turning their heads and making a point to tell us that they enjoyed the vivid art style and female representation among the minis.
There was a sizable sales bump for the Vault post-show, a wave we’re still riding. Which is wonderful, and welcome. But in addition to those late pledges it was wonderful just to hear directly from the intended audience that they were looking forward to what we’re building. Those well-wishes will send us into 2024 with a burst of momentum.
Second: a Production update. Chris wrote a thorough production update as a response to a community comment, and I’ve included it below this paragraph. I just wanted to add that engineering work–though intense and interesting–is not something that’s suitable for sharing until it’s finalized for production. The reason is that unlike in-progress art, some engineering paths will result in nonviable dead-ends. And we’d be doing a disservice to the community if we got folks excited for a particular engineering solution that might not actually make it into the box. It’s better for all if you know that when we show you something, that’s what you’ll see when you open the box.
Here’s that production update In Chris’s own words:
As far as production goes here is where we are. While the majority of the artwork is completed, there are still around 50 of the standees that need artwork. As the art progresses we’ve been busy developing our own tools to handle the processing of the artwork into their final layouts for manufacturing. Handling all of the layout production by hand of over 1000 standees and then again segmented into multiple products can be a logistical pain. We have some standees that we issue multiple colors or art styles of that use the same cut tooling. By building these tools to automate the layout process we can eliminate the need for multiple tools and streamline our production process by simply changing out printed sheets. There is quite a bit of complication to this that can be minimized by an automated process.
We are also reworking the engineering of the floor tiles and terrain walls to ensure that they function as we intend them to. As we get further into this process we will start producing additional prototypes in order to show them off here.
Please keep in mind that there are four of us working on this project. And while things seem slow right now we maintain our original position that we plan to ship rewards out around end of summer or beginning of fall 2024. If at anytime things start to slip we will keep everyone updated. As for now we are not concerned.
-Chris
Marshall Art
Two wild updates from Marshall for your viewing pleasure:
Vault Ventures
This section is a narrative of the community-chosen adventuring band, as detailed in Update 18. Its purpose is to show the Vault used for actual play, and entertain backers over the course of product development and production.
Remme - Human Circle of the Shepherd Druid
Votun - Warforged Battlemaster Fighter
Grecken - Gnome Assassin Rogue
Elora Damn-ed - Archfey Pact of the Tome Warlock
When last we saw our heroes, they’d managed to survive an onslaught of undead by accidentally summoning a terrible spirit: the mighty Krampus. Krampus dispersed the undead horde and, after a titanic struggle, destroyed the personification of the Abattoir of Avarice: a towering grave golem. When the dust settled Krampus regarded our heroes with unknown intention. Given the choice of Attempt to Exert Control, Parly, or Fight, the community chose Parley. Let’s see how that works out for them!
Parley with the Devil
Amidst the shattered remains of the once-menacing cemetery, the party faced the looming form of the mighty Krampus. The full moon cast his shadow toward them, and Elora could swear it capered and taunted even as the actual form of the malevolent spirit stood dead still except for its labored breathing. The ragged breath was the only sound amidst the ruins of the cemetery, and after the crash and tumult of the fight with the grave golem the still silence made the adventurers feel exposed and oppressed.
Krampus shifted his weight, the cloven hooves sending a cascade of broken masonry tumbling down the pile he stood upon. At the sudden sound and motion Votun strode two paces forward, shield set, sword held high and ready. “Stay behind me. Your spells are spent. You should flee. I can impede his pursuit long enough for you to get away.”
Elora gasped and shook her head no, but Grecken was already halfway toward the exit. Remme closed his weary eyes for a moment, then placed his hand on the Warforged’s steel shoulder. “Hold, my friend. It might not come to blows.” The old druid raised his voice, and called out “Parley, Krampus! Parley! What is your purpose here, and can we find common ground that would prevent violence between us?”
Krampus smiled, revealing far too many teeth. “You know my purpose, Remme.” Elora heard the druid flinch to hear the devil speak his name. “You dictated the dusty rites that drive my dark deeds. You spoke them yourself. You called; and I came.” The being’s voice was deeper than a human’s natural range, guttural yet somehow seductive.
Remme shook his head. “Nay, fiend! I called for nature’s salvation for the poor souls interred herein! Rest, for restless spirits too long upon this land!”
Krampus threw back his head and laughed. If it was meant to scare them, it worked, but his harsh guffaws also contained genuine amusement. “Poor souls? The beings buried beneath us had many qualities, but “poor” was certainly not one of them! This is the Abattoir of Avarice, after all! Their craven covetousness conspired to curtail them in the ground here, though the ground groaned and disgorged them!” The beast laughed again, horns sawing through the air as he cavorted in glee. “They languished and lingered here long, harrowed and hungry, and you should remember that for the wicked there is no rest.” At this he shook a large wicker basket tied at his waist, and the group could see glimmering, sickly green light flashing from within.
“Souls…” Elora whispered, unconsciously reaching a hand toward them. Remme shot her a look in alarm, and she snatched her hand back. Krampus jangled the basket in her direction and laughed again.
“Yes, I heard your hearkening and hither I came. I’ll whisk these wicked wisps away to where they’re welcome.” Krampus chuckled, hefting the basket in his gnarled fist. But he didn’t make a move to depart. Instead he let his chuckle die out. Then he said, “Oh yes, I’ll whisk away… but not just yet. For my work is not finished.”
He took a step toward the group. Votun did not move an inch, being already in a perfect defensive posture. But Remme and Elora took an involuntary step back. Krampus paused, considering the armored form before him. He seemed to then notice the absence of Grecken, and shifted his gaze back and forth, searching the toppled tombstones and rubble for the little rogue. “You see…” he mused, seeming to be buying time for himself to spot her. “My pure purpose is punishment. I deliver damnation to darkness. And I spy…” Krampus’s gaze settled on a shadowed form, just barely leaning out from behind a tree stump, bow trained at his heart. He grinned, and prepared to leap. “...a spoiled spot of soot within each of you!”
Just then the air shimmered with magic, and with a burst of festive bells, Santa Claus himself appeared, crashing between Krampus and the party on a sleigh drawn by enchanted reindeer. Dressed in his iconic red suit, Santa surveyed the scene, his eyes twinkling with both mirth and concern.
"Now, now, Krampus," Santa chided, "only I know who's on the naughty list."
Jingle Bells
The flabbergasted party could hardly believe their eyes. Grecken, hidden behind the stump, was so shocked that her numb fingers released her arrow. It flew straight toward the back of Santa’s head. Before Elora’s scream of warning could escape her throat Santa whipped his hand around his head, snatching the missile out of the air. With a flourish the arrow became a long ribbon of striped red and green, and he busily used it to tie a bow around a huge present he pulled from his sack. As he worked he glanced up at Grecken, who stumbled forward, dumbfounded, to stand with her party.
“Careful, Grecken.” Santa said, with a twinkle in his eye. “You’ll shoot someone’s eye out!”
Krampus stalked back and forth, clearly unsure how to respond to this interruption. Santa, for his part, ignored Krampus as he nimbly leapt from his sleigh and carried past Krampus the large, brightly-wrapped present to a spot in the heart of the cemetery. He placed it upon a plinth there, then stepped back, dusting off his hands with a self-satisfied grunt.
Krampus, who had kept careful watch on Santa’s sojourn, tore his eyes away from the seemingly-concluded spectacle and returned his attention to the party. “Where were we, my weary wanderers? Ah yes…” his bony hands wrung his staff in a tight grip, sending splinters to the ground. His eyes narrowed as he began to say, “My ghastly gaze glimpses a growing gloom–”
“Good evening!” Santa merrily shouted out, politely tipping his hat as he brushed past Krampus on his way back to his sleigh. The reindeer snorted.
Krampus stomped his cloven feet in frustration. “Would you kindly stop perforating my performance?!” he snarled.
Santa clamored atop his sleigh and settled in. He crossed his arms and regarded Krampus, eyebrows raised in a patient and innocent expression. When nothing happened, he gestured with his gloved hand for Krampus to continue.
Krampus warily eyed Santa, then shook his head and regarded the party again. “And this growing gloom that glowers in your heart-”
“Please, continue.” Santa called out, politely.
Krampus rounded on Santa and shouted “Isn’t there someplace you need to be?”
Santa pursed his lips in thought, then spread his hands in a shrug. He then pulled out a watch on a golden chain, looked at it, then replaced it in a pocket of his red suit.
“Waiting for something?” Krampus asked dryly.
“For someone!” Santa replied, helpfully.
Krampus rolled his lantern-yellow eyes and turned away in exasperation. His eyes settled on the gigantic present, sitting alone on the plinth. “And what of this gift? Who did you prepare this perfect present for?” he asked aloud, in annoyance.
Santa leaned forward. "Only he who is worthy of such an enormous surprise," Santa declared cryptically.
Krampus turned his back on the present in disgust. He focused his attention on the party, who by now had all, except for Votun, settled into a relaxed posture. Krampus clenched his eyes tight. Then, unable to further resist, he leaped backward, landing directly behind the present. He licked his lips with a several-foot long tongue and rubbed his hands together in obvious anticipation. Then he eagerly reached forward with clawed hands to tear apart the wrapping.
To his dismay, the present's top opened up to reveal monstrous teeth which clamped down fast onto Krampus's wrists. He yelped in shock and surprise, then the Mimic lurched backward, tossing Krampus into the air. With a shriek, Krampus cartwheeled into the Mimic's mouth and just like that, he was swallowed in one gulp. Santa clapped his hands and openly guffawed, calling out “Oh, you should have known better, old boy! No rest for the wicked, yes, but also no gifts for the greedy, Krampus! Ho! Ho! Ho!” The Mimic/present shook back and forth in response. Then it emitted a large belch, and was still.
After the chaotic spectacle, Elora, couldn't help but ask Santa if what Krampus said was true about the darkness in their hearts. Santa's smile faded slightly as he admitted, "Yes, my dear Elora, there is darkness in each of you. But it's the denial of that darkness, and the goodness you strive for in helping strangers and watching out for each other, that earns you a place on the nice list!"
With a wave of Santa’s hand, a wrapped present appeared at the feet of each adventurer. Grecken eyed hers with open suspicion but Elora picked up her present with a squeal of delight. Her black-taloned fingers shred the wrapping to reveal a small box. She looked at Santa, who gave a nod of permission, murmuring softly, “good things come…” Inside was an amulet of golden links, with a dark shard mounted in the middle of the chain. As she touched it, a glow formed deep within the crystal.
The other party members unwrapped their own presents, and as they did so a light snow began to fall and obscure the horror and ruin around them. Weary faces became cheery smiles as the party rejoiced in their gifts. For Remme, a willow branch adorned with silver bells. For Votun, a high-collared wool mantle adorned with sigils of warding. For Grecken…
“Really?” the gnome called out, glaring at Santa, as she held up a pair of fur-cuffed red boots with up-curled toes. Despite her words, her lips couldn’t repress a grin forming on her face as she felt the boots visibly vibrate with energy.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa called from atop his sleigh, and gathered the reins for departure. The party paused the admiration of their treasures to bid him farewell.
"Remember," Santa called out as his sleigh lifted into the night sky, "it's the kindness and goodwill you share that truly make the season bright. Happy holidays, my friends! And Merry Christmas!"
And so, our iconic adventurers, having faced the Abattoir of Avarice and learned valuable lessons along the way, made their way from the dis-enchanted cemetery. Their hearts filled with newfound camaraderie, the joy of the holiday season, and the warmth of magical gifts that would doubtless serve them well in future adventures.
---
Thank you, dear backers, for joining this journey with The Vault of Mini Things. May your holidays be filled with laughter, love–and the magic of adventure!
Sincerely,
Mike, Lane, Chris, and Marshall
20 - Vault au Naturale
about 1 year ago
– Fri, Nov 17, 2023 at 06:54:43 PM
Happy ongoing holiday season, Vaulters! This update is a celebration of nature. It does not require any action on your part. That said, as a reminder: if you have not yet completed your Backerkit Survey for your pledge, please do so.
PAX Unplugged
TinkerHouse Games will be showing up in force to PAX Unplugged! We'll have our biggest booth ever--20 feet by 20 feet--with all of our terrain on sale at convention-discounted prices. We'll also have a mockup of the Vault of Mini Things on display, as well as some art-proof mockups of walls, tiles, and standees. Badges for PAX Unplugged are still available as of this writing, so if you'd like to experience the best three days of tabletop gaming this December 1-3 in Philadelphia, PA:
register for the show today!
Marshall Art
Marshall's proud to present some furry friends large and small.
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Vault Ventures This section is a narrative of the community-chosen adventuring band, as detailed in Update 18. Its purpose is to show the Vault used for actual play, and entertain backers over the course of product development and production.
Remme - Human Circle of the Shepherd Druid
Votun - Warforged Battlemaster Fighter
Grecken - Gnome Assassin Rogue
Elora Damn-ed - Archfey Pact of the Tome Warlock
When last we saw our heroes, they’d gone into the woods to hunt down an infamous haunted cemetery–but instead became the prey of the unhallowed burial ground. Faced with a ravenous horde of cursed undead, the Vaulter community decided our heroes would rally around Remme and protect him while he attempted a Druidic ritual…
Ritual de lo Druidical
Amidst the eerie glow of the moonlight filtering through the skeletal branches, the party rallied to defend Remme as he began the druidic ritual. Votun, the warforged, stepped into a leadership role, barking tactical orders that cut through the chaos of the undead onslaught. Grecken danced with her twin daggers, a whirlwind of steel that cut down the horde wherever it encroached while Elora channeled arcane energies to fend off the relentless advance.
Remme, in the center of this maelstrom, focused on his ritual, drawing upon the ancient magic of the land. The air crackled with energy as vines erupted from the ground, entwining the skeletal forms of the undead, slowing their relentless march. Yet, in the rush to defend against the horde, the ritual was completed with an unsettling haste.
The air thickened with an ominous tension as Remme's magic manifested. The avatar of nature he summoned was not the benevolent spirit of renewal he anticipated. Instead, emerging from the twisted energy, a malevolent and capricious figure materialized—the sinister Krampus himself!
It’s beginning to look a lot like KRAMPUS
As Krampus materialized, a twisted smirk on his horned visage, the party found themselves in a desperate struggle to protect the faltering Remme. Votun, ever the efficient tactician, directed the group with precision, exploiting the chaotic terrain of the cemetery to create chokepoints and provide cover. The clash of steel against bone reverberated through the night as Grecken and Elora fended off the relentless undead while shielding Remme from the chaotic swings of Krampus.
The battle escalated into a cataclysmic spectacle. Krampus, fueled by the corrupted magic of the cemetery, tore through the undead hordes surrounding him with terrible efficacy, sending splinters of bone and gobs of decaying flesh against the marble and iron walls of the Abattoir of Avarice. The party dodged through the tombstones, trying to stay ahead of the unstoppable force that was Krampus.
Amidst the devastation, a colossal grave golem lumbered forth to challenge the malevolent spirit. A titanic clash ensued, with Krampus and the golem smashing through crypts and tombstones, sending debris from shattered crypts and the splintered remains of sarcophagi flying through the air. Votun led the party into cover, then popped his head back up to analyze the respective capabilities, strengths and weaknesses of the giant combatants. Whoever wins is who they'll have to deal with. As he observed the combat he couldn't help but compare the golem's composition of wood, iron, and stone to his own body. Such a powerful form, devoted entirely to mindless destruction. The warforged's mechanical eyes flicked down to his hand, securely gripping the hilt of his well-tended and well-used blade. The eyes blinked, then flicked back to the fight.
The brawlers lurched into a tall mausoleum, bursting through the iron doors and bringing the roof down in a cacophony of splintering slate. As the dust swirled, a single hulking body slowly rose from the rubble. Then it threw its head back in a triumphant cackle, and the full moon silhouetted within the mist the horned form of Krampus. Remme, delirious and drained from the corrupted ritual, slumped to the ground, his magical connection with Krampus faltering.
Trick or Treat?
Silence descended upon the ravaged cemetery as Krampus turned to fully face the party. The twisted figure surveyed the destruction surrounding him, his eyes gleaming with malevolent delight. The party, battered but resilient, exchanged a quick conversation about their next move.
"Is he under our control?" Votun questioned, eyeing Krampus warily. "Or is he another pawn of the cemetery?"
Elora, her gaze fixed on the capricious figure, remarked, "Perhaps he has his own agenda, independent of our commands."
Grecken spared a moment to glare at Remme, "Well that was one hell of a magicking, Druid. You’ve brought us a powerful ally... or a formidable foe."
The party stood at a crossroads, unsure of the true nature of Krampus and the implications of his presence. With uncertainty hanging in the air, the adventurers faced a pivotal decision. What shall be their next move in this haunting tale?
Choice 1: Attempt to Control Krampus - Utilize Remme's druidic powers to assert control over Krampus, hoping to bend the malevolent spirit to their will.
Choice 2: Parley with the Devil - Engage in a dialogue with Krampus, seeking to understand his motives and intentions, hoping to discern whether he is an ally or a foe.
Choice 3: Seize the (and roll for) Initiative - Immediately attack before Krampus can regain his strength, choosing aggression over uncertain alliances.
The fate of our heroes rests once again in the hands of our esteemed backers. Make your choice via the poll associated with this Update, and let the story unfold in the next chapter of The Vault of Mini Things' iconic adventures!
Happy Thanksgiving,
Mike, Lane, Chris, and Marshall
19 - Vault of Terror
about 1 year ago
– Mon, Oct 23, 2023 at 04:39:24 PM
19 - Vault of Terror
Happy Halloween, Vaulters! This spooktacular update of art and kickoff of the adventures of our iconic Vault characters does not require any action on your part.
Marshall Art
We've got two spooky creatures to chill your bones for this October update: an ethereal Banshee and a bone-crunching Grimlock.
Vault Ventures
This section is a narrative of the community-chosen adventuring band, as detailed in Update 18. Its purpose is to showcase the Vault as used for actual play, and entertain backers over the course of product development and production.
Remme - Human Circle of the Shepherd Druid
Votun - Warforged Battlemaster Fighter
Our iconic adventurers have gathered around a table in cozy tavern in an unfamiliar town. The inn is comfortable but costly, and funds have run low.
As the four friends sipped their drinks and savored the warmth of the hearth, the tavern began to fill with the lively chatter of locals, their voices alight with excitement about an upcoming holiday—a time to honor the dead. This celebration, they overheard, was a blend of remembrance and spooky tales, meant to remind the children of very real dangers lurking beyond the borders of civilization.
Intrigued, the party listened intently as a local bard, draped in dark attire and a garishly painted leather festival mask, took the stage. As the tavern hushed in anticipation, the bard began to weave a chilling fable, one that sent shivers down their spines:
The Tale of The Abattoir of Avarice
In a time long past, in the outskirts of the long-abandoned city whose ruins form the foundations of this town, there lay a cemetery so sinister, it came to be known as “The Abattoir of Avarice." Originally called “Elysium of the Elite” and reserved exclusively for the wealthy and influential, it was a necropolis of those who had it all, yet for all their power could not acquire the one thing money could not buy: life itself.
Not that that stopped them from trying. Strange visitors from lands beyond the edge of maps were brought into town, at exorbitant expense. They brought with them even stranger devices, and exotic materials, and the notion that what cannot be bought might yet be stolen. Over the ensuing years the town gained a reputation for peace and order. At first, the townsfolk celebrated how the local constabulary seemed to be more vigorously rounding up bandits and criminals. The streets were cleared of beggars and thieves. Then they began to comment on how travelers seen entering town tended to not be seen leaving. And that those who took ill, and were taken to the High Houses for treatment by the nobles’ physicians, seldom returned.
Whispers in the night spoke of forbidden rites performed by the aristocrats. Yet even these dark sacrifices could not satiate their unholy hunger. Travelers and merchants began to avoid the town. Desperation took root, and the nobles turned to openly abducting local villagers and even their own servants to prolong their wretched existence.
The commoners could bear this wickedness no longer, and on a night much like tonight, they rose in revolt. With fury and vengeance they unleashed their wrath upon every noble in the city, and cast their lifeless bodies into a mass grave within Elysium. The once-opulent cemetery was sealed, abandoned, and erased from all maps. The estates and their contents were put to the torch. When word of the revolt reached the capital city the King’s Justice fell swiftly, and the empty city fell into ruin.
Some claim this story is naught but a legend, an exaggeration spun over the years to terrify children. Others, however, whisper that the tales are real. They say that the Abattoir of Avarice became a harbinger of doom as the souls of the rich nobles, ruined by insatiable greed and covetousness, seeped their malevolence into the very soil. And that on a night like this, those who wander too far at night become prey for the insatiable spirits that still hunger for more life.
The Hunt Begins
The story told, the adventurers engaged in a spirited debate. Votun, his tone blunt, expressed their financial woes and raised the unsettling notion that the wealthy, much like the nobles in the tale, might have taken their riches to their graves. Elora, appalled, couldn't fathom disturbing the deceased, but Grechen pointed out the futility of gold lying with the dead when they, the living, had needs for it.
Remme suggested that gold or no gold, such a place was a dangerous blight upon the land. With a collective nod, the party resolved to determine the truth of the story.
The party spent a frustrating morning attempting to uncover more information about the cemetery or its location. With seemingly little to show for it, the party took a late lunch to discuss next steps.
“I spoke with a pair of mercenaries traveling from the East, heading West tomorrow. They have not seen anything matching the description of the cemetery we seek.” Votun said. “I also spoke with a tinker traveling the opposite way, on the return leg of his seasonal route. In all his years of travel through this region, he has never seen anything like the Abattoir of Avarice.”
“I wonder where the mercenaries were coming from?” Elora asked. “Is there a war nearby?”
Grecken grouched, “There’s always a war, child.”
“They came from Heston, in the province of Kharan” Votun said.
“Helton is well North of here,” Remme said. “Going West would take those mercenaries through rocky terrain. The forest to the north is dense, but even so, would be a much better route.”
“That may be, but there is no road to the North” Votun pointed out.
“No, there isn’t…” Remme mused. “This tinker, was Heston his destination?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s been traveling his route for years?”
“He said so. I see no reason why he would lie to me.”
Remme looked thoughtfully toward the North. “And I see no reason why this town and Heston should not have built a direct road through yonder wood. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
Grecken cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Remme, you think you’re the first person to figure out that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line? There could be any number of reasons for that road to not exist. There would be a good tavern along the Western way. There could be an important crossroads. These humans could just be lazy!”
“I agree, there could be many reasons.” Remme stood up. “Let us go amongst the people, and ask.”
As it turned out, not a single villager had a clear answer for why there were no roads–or even trails–heading North out of town. Elora wondered aloud, “But if they don’t have a good reason for why they haven’t built a road, and it’s so obvious that a road would be beneficial, why not just… build it?”
“Because tradition can be more than a guide,” answered Remme. “It can be a jailor. These people have avoided those woods for so long, they’re probably not even aware that they’re avoiding them. It simply never occurs to them to head directly North, especially with such a well-traveled route West.” He pursed his lips, then nodded to himself. “Yes. I think it’s time we go for a hike.”
Elora squinted up at the sun, well past noon. “But, Remme, aren’t we losing the light?”
Remme laughed. “Oh, don’t worry child. Druids don’t get lost in the woods!”
They got lost in the woods. It happened slowly. The party’s initial foray made good time, and they swiftly put miles between them and the village. The ground was firm and the old growth left little opportunity for ground scrub. It also let precious little light through the canopy, such that it was difficult to determine the passage of time. It wasn’t until Elora saw Remme squinting to and fro, in apparent confusion, that she realized the light had dimmed to an extent that his human eyes were finding it difficult to see. Finally, with a sigh and a whispered word,, the druid instantiated a ball of green flame in his open hand.
Grecken sidled up. “What’s the matter old man? Lost the path?”
“That’s why we’re here, Grecken–there ARE no paths.” Remme cast his gaze back and forth, and couldn’t help but notice that the green glow and dancing shadows from his flame brought not cheer, but instead imparted a ghastly look upon the wood. “Despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to get the lay of this confounding land. It seems I have not been able to find our quarry. It’s almost like the cemetery doesn’t want to be found.”
Votun stomped closer to the light. The green flame turned his armored body into gleaming emerald. “A cemetery is not alive. It cannot want.”
“No, of course not,” Remme said. “Well, we’ve lost the light. Let’s get out of this wood and try again in the morning.”
It soon became clear that was easier said than done. A ground mist arose, further limiting the sight of even those with Darkvision. The trees seemed to grow closer together, and the party found itself backtracking when the foliage grew so close as to form a wall. The fog thickened. “And now we’re in an area with groundcover.” Remme thought to himself, as he saw vague shapes, low to the ground, to his left and right. “We didn’t come through this way… I truly have lost our quarry.”
The druid extended his hand to caress the viney growth, but recoiled in sudden pain. Instead of pliable plant, he encountered sharp metal. A brief lull in the fog revealed a twisted fence of jagged black iron. The word “quarry” ran through his mind yet again. “My friends… I took you into these woods for a hunt,” the druid said, with growing alarm. “But I believe it is we who are being hunted.”
The mist parted to reveal a pair of stacked stone towers, spawning ironwork fencing left and right to the limit of their sight. A ruined gate was cast down between the pillars. Beyond was a wide expanse of open ground, seething with ground fog and strewn with tombstones. Larger crypts and sarcophagi loomed out of the mist throughout the unhallowed grounds.
Votun’s armored visage swept left to right. He then strode three steps forward, and turned around to address his companions. “We have found it, or it has found us. It matters not. We are here. We will go within, and we will overcome whatever threats await. Together.” The warforged’s words emboldened the party, and practiced hands confidently gripped blade, staff, and orb. Votun turned, set his shield, and marched through the gate.
The mist roiled in apparent response to the intrusion, then settled. The party moved steadily forward. And then, all at once: a cacophony of grating stone as dozens of marble lids slid open. To their left, a small hill came tumbling down as its mass of occupants clawed their way through to the surface.
Choices in the Mist
Faced with a desperate battle against the ravenous undead, the group is forced to make a choice:
Choice 1: Ritual de lo Habitual - Form up and protect Remme, and push to the heart of the cemetery where he can perform a ritual of purification to dispel its malevolent presence.
Choice 2: Crypt Keepers - Dash towards a nearby crypt with an open door, where the party could defend the narrow entrance and limit the advantage of numbers.
Choice 3: Run To the Hills - Flee into the dense woods, where the undergrowth would disperse the undead horde, offering a chance at escape.
The fate of our heroes lies in your hands, dear backers. Choose wisely, and together, we'll continue to uncover the next thrilling chapter of The Vault of Mini Things' iconic adventures!
18 - Project updates, meet the Band!
about 1 year ago
– Tue, Sep 19, 2023 at 03:33:10 PM
This mid-month update shares some notable works-in-progress, including new art and Dungeons & Dragons 5e character sheets for our winners of the Battle of the Bands. No action required.
Marshall Art
Marshall’s recovered from PAX and is hard at work bringing the creatures of the Vault to life. Or a mockery of life, as the case may be.
"You've all gathered at the local tavern..."
They say “never meet your heroes”, but we say “but what if youdo? In this very update?” We’ve worked up complete 5th level character sheets for each of the members of the band of heroes the community selected in the Battle of the Bands (Update 16). But before we properly introduce them let’s start with a bit of Boxed Text–in accordance with the Old Ways:
As the tavern's door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior hazy with the scent of ale and the sound of boisterous laughter, your eyes are inexplicably drawn to a corner table bathed in an aura of intrigue. At its center sat a curious quartet, each a distinct embodiment of the fantastical world that surrounded them.
Grecken, a female gnome with a mischievous glint in her eye, reclined comfortably on her seat, her dark leather armor accentuating her petite frame. Twin daggers rested within easy reach, one on each hip, their pommels ornate with intricate carvings. Her raven-black hair cascaded like a shadowy waterfall, framing her soft, rounded features.
Next to her, an older human named Remme leaned thoughtfully on his gnarled walking stick, the lines of wisdom etched deep into his face. He wore robes of earthy green, attuned to the rhythms of the natural world, a stark contrast to the bustling tavern around him. Salt-and-pepper hair crowned his head, and his dark skin bore the wisdom of countless seasons.
Votun, the towering warforged, radiated an imposing presence. Gleaming plate armor encased his formidable frame, while a massive sword rested against his chair, its blade polished to a mirror-like sheen. A round shield leaned against the table, bearing the scars of past battles. His glowing blue eyes, unblinking and vigilant, surveyed the room, a silent guardian in the midst of revelry.
Seated opposite Votun was Elora, a striking tiefling with crimson skin, whose formidable horns twisted majestically from her brow. Her red and black robes whispered of arcane power, and a skull-tipped staff stood by her side, exuding an aura of ominous mystique. An eyepatch concealed one of her eyes, lending an air of enigma to her presence.
The quartet appeared deeply engrossed in conversation, their voices blending with the tavern's din. Grecken's hands animatedly gestured as she spoke, her eyes twinkling with wily humor. Remme's expression was one of thoughtful concern, his weathered hand resting on his walking stick. Votun maintained a stoic vigilance, occasionally nodding in agreement. Elora, her single eye focused intently, punctuated their discourse with cryptic insights.
Amidst the mirth and merry-making of the tavern's patrons, this unusual group exuded an air of purpose, as though they were bound together by a shared quest or destiny, their presence a testament to the extraordinary tapestry of the world they inhabited.
Grecken, gnome rogue (Assassin)
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/107033609/NiITbv
One fateful day, while exploring a hidden underground chamber, Grecken stumbled upon an inert warforged, its metallic form devoid of life. The innate curiosity that drove her rogue's heart led her to tirelessly tinker and restore the warforged, whom she affectionately named Votun 967. Whether it was a spark of gratitude from the rekindled construct, a latent sense of loyalty in its programming, or perhaps even an unspoken friendship that bound them, Votun 967 chose to follow Grecken as she ventured forth into the world.
Curious about her enigmatic companion's origins, Grecken sought out a sometime-client/sometime-customer named Remme who was renowned for possessing knowledge beyond the borders of civilization. To her surprise, she found Remme accompanied by a fellow foundling, Elora. Recognizing the strength that came from pooling their talents and resources, the two pairs decided to unite their fates and embark on a shared adventure, determined to unravel the mysteries surrounding their wards and to explore the endless opportunities that lay ahead.
Grecken does not suffer fools, dispute her understanding that she's the only person on the planet that doesn't qualify as such. She never saw much distinction between plundering an ancient tomb or plundering a pristine mansion, and over the years recognized that it's healthier and more lucrative to serve as middleman for the goods procured by like-minded entrepreneurs. Her bond with Votun 967 and growing friendship with Remme have recently caused her to re-think her priorities.
Travelling with Grecken means travelling with a nonstop litany of foul-mouthed observations about the world. The constant patter is seemingly an odd character trait for a rogue, but she has the ability to hold her tongue and switch to an internal monologue for brief periods of time. Her Assassin skills are more about maximizing efficiency than indulging in bloodthirsty headhunting. Her rough exterior does not hide a heart of gold; Grecken is every bit the irritable opportunist she presents as. The sole exceptions for her ire are her traveling companions. She's fascinated by and protective of Votun, respects Remme's commitment, and knows that whatever's going with Elora, it'll be BIG.
Voyun 967, warforged fighter (Battle Master)
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/107040372/mQj76E
Votun 967 has only vague memories of his past life serving as an archaeologist's research assistant and bodyguard. Which is ironic, since his inert form was unearthed by Grecken in the ruins of an ancient tomb complex. Votun 967 took an instant liking to his rescuer--even though she initially wanted to sell him as parts--and his reliably optimistic demeanor is a necessary counter to her dour moods. He dutifully follows her lead in day-to-day matters, though he often has to step in to softly smooth things over when the grouchy gnome's sharp tongue lands the group in hot water. In matters of battle the dynamic switches, and his booming voice commands the entire group.
Votun 967 likes to begin each day by inspiring his allies with a recounting of a heroic myth (spending Superiority dice on Rally), then planning a route to their next destination while the others make breakfast and handle other morning biological functions (take a Short Rest to recover Superiority dice). His towering bulk and gleaming armor help him impress his will over social obstacles (Commanding Presence maneuver). In battle he interposes his armored form to protect his band (Interception style) and knocks foes to the ground (Trip maneuver) to make them easier for Grecken and the rest of his band to dispatch.
Remme, human druid (Circle of the Shepherd)
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/107044450/zV88EV
Remme's upbringing was an unconventional one, shaped by the rugged wilderness where he was born as an outlander. From a young age, he immersed himself in the teachings of the Old Ways, absorbing the ancient druidic traditions that connected him intimately with the natural world. While charisma might not have been his strong suit, Remme's wisdom shone brightly, earning him the role of emissary when his tribe required interaction with the outside world for trade. It was during one of these expeditions that he first crossed paths with Grecken, a gnome rogue with a sharp wit and a knack for surviving in the urban jungle. She was abrasive, but also seemed to be the one "civilized" person who was completely honest with herself. For her part, she seemed to appreciate his unfettered viewpoints and complete lack of desire for material wealth. Over the years, a deep and unspoken bond formed between them, and each found themselves looking forward to the time when the changing of the seasons caused their paths to cross.
But fate took a cruel turn when Remme was plagued by nightmarish visions foretelling disaster. Returning from one such trade mission, he arrived to find his tribe and home reduced to ruins, leaving him in a desolate wilderness of grief. Remme wandered aimlessly for weeks, drowning his sorrows in drink, until a twist of fate intervened. It was in his bleakest moment that he stumbled upon Elora, a mysterious tiefling, in dire need of his protection. Rescuing her from imminent danger breathed new life into Remme's weary spirit, igniting a renewed sense of purpose.
Recognizing that the Archfey sending a Tiefling agent into the world right at this time could be no coincidence, Remme reached out to his trusted friend Grecken for advice only to discover that she, too, had taken a foundling under her wing. United by their shared commitment to unraveling the mysteries surrounding their respective wards Grecken and Remme set out on a quest to identify the looming threat and, with any luck, thwart the dark future that continued to haunt the druid's sleep.
Remme actively tries to balance his nightmarish evenings by with with a positive attitude during the day. He makes an effort to be kind and generous, and set a good example for his sometimes amoral companions, desperately hoping that these efforts will push back against his dark visions. He leans heavily on Grecken, who for her part tries to save Remme from negativity by collecting it all onto herself. Remme is fascinated by Votun, as it's indisputably alive and yet indisputably artificial. And Elora, representing her lost human family, her found fey family, and her unique tiefling self, has firmly taken the place of his lost tribe. The weary druid shepherds them all toward an uncertain future, yet he's confident their tight bond will see them through. In combat the druid used Create Bonfire and Thornwhip to shape the battlefield to Votun's liking, and to pull enemies away from Grecken or Elora if they get pinned. Out of combat Remme enjoys using his druid powers to explore the area, confound enemies, and bolster allies.
Elora Damn-ed, tiefling warlock (Archfey pact)
www.dndbeyond.com/characters/107056753/RlCNeC
Elora Damn-ed's origins are shrouded in mystery, beginning with her abduction as an infant by capricious fey creatures who were initially fascinated by her otherworldly tiefling heritage. Raised as a captivating enigma within the ethereal realms of the Feywild, she yearned for a connection that transcended her mere existence as a curiosity. It was this profound longing that led her to seek communion with the Archfey, a being of boundless power and whimsy. The Archfey, intrigued by Elora's unique lineage and her yearning for true purpose, saw an opportunity for their own amusement and granted her the pact of warlockhood, thus intertwining their fates in a dance of mutual intrigue and mischief.
Her adventure in the Prime Material plane almost ended as soon as it began, when she sought refuge in a borderlands village as a bewildered newcomer from the Feywild. It was there that a group of suspicious villagers, mistrustful of her exotic appearance and far-fetched origin, surrounded Elora with palpable hostility. Just when violence seemed imminent, Remme emerged from a nearby outfitter's shop and quickly used his druidic powers to diffuse the tension and shield her from harm. Sensing in Elora a vulnerable soul in need of guidance and kinship, he offered his hand in friendship as a guide to the perils of the mundane realm.
Elora is amused and delighted to take on the role of the lost sheep for Remme. She joyfully allows him to ramble on about local flora and fauna, teases him about her personal connection to the wild (in the form of the Archfey), laughs at his "dad jokes," and genuinely appreciates it when he tries (and usually fails) to show her how to care about other people. She picked the "Damn-ed" title herself, and gleefully introduces herself as such just to see the reaction it inspires.
—
Now that you’ve properly met we can get to the community-participation part: coming up with a name for the band! Post your ideas in the Comments, and we’ll run a poll for the next update.
Oh and to pre-empt an FAQ: why are we doing this? Because Pathfinder, D&D, Pokemon, and Magic have shown the wisdom of creating Iconic characters for a setting or product. Even BattleTech has the Locust, Marauder, Warhammer, Atlas, and Mad Cat (Timber Wolf). These are ours, chosen by the community and built by the resident Tinker with the lifelong passion for D&D (and no technical or artistic skills to contribute to development). We’ll be taking these folks on a bit of an adventure in future updates. Stay tuned!
Onward,
Mike, Lane, Chris, and Marshall.
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