July 21, 2018
If you’re reading this you’re probably well aware of Sleeping Place of the Feathered Swine, my filthy cave adventure with the adorable cut-out map where nobody gets out alive/whole/without a suit of armour fused with their genitals.
Well Dan D of Throne of Salt ran it as an impromptu away-mission in a Spelljammer game and wrote a play report that made me stupidly, unendingly happy. Give it a read.
James Young also told me he ran it as a “Lair of a Gluttony Demon accessed via a sobbing obese bartenders’ mouth. Walls are his torn and warped throat, knee high in rotting food. Surprisingly easy reskin to make!” but there’s no play report of that one which is really disappointing I was so very wrong! Check comments below for James’ multiple play reports. The Gluttony Demon one in particular is sick.
It’s pretty old now but lots of people have been saying nice things about it lately including Jarrett Crader saying “It is one of the best intros to the old school mindset and it works for every system” so if you don’t have it you should probably change that:
June 13, 2014
Nameless Searcher asks:
“can ur poo turn in two a fungus or worm as i feel like summons running up an down my body”
Dear Reader,
Thankyou for your query regarding poo, and its inherent ability to form a portal through which fungal worms may be summoned!
The sensation you describe running up and down your body is in fact the molecules of your very being vibrating at a different frequency in order to allow entrance from the beyond, and should subside within 3-4 days once the fruiting conqueror has settled within the new confines of your flesh. In the meantime, it would be wise to refrain from inspecting your rectum in any way, as the sudden appearance of a finger, or leering eyes reflected in a mirror, could be construed as aggression by your new symbiotic god, elevating its rage to fevered heights that would make the very mountains weep.
As in all things, deal with your new guest with softness and compassion, and in no time at all you will begin to reap the fruit that your warmth and poo has sown.
With Heartfelt Regards,
Last Gasp.
