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This is the first issue of SilverSheen News to be published directly to the World-Wide Web. Sure, we'll print it out for those without access to the Internet. However, it's best experienced by pointing your web browser to http://www.io.com/~girthlin/newsletters.html.
Ray Delgado will be the RPGA event coordinator for DEXCON 5. This convention will be held during July in Somerset, NJ. Look for many first run events, including 6 Living City. Meanwhile, check our review of last year's DEXCON 4 in this issue.
Macil's Mystic Missile ( Evocation ) Level : 2
Range : 60 yards + 5 yards / level Components : V, S
Duration : Instantaneous Casting Time : 2
Area of Effect : 1-5 items in a 15 cube Saving Throw : Special
Similar to a Magic missile, this spell creates missiles of a
magical nature which fly out from the caster and strike unerringly
any non-living item in range. The items must be in the area of
effect and within sight. The items must be specifically identified
by the caster. Items struck by a mystic missile must make a
saving throw equal to it's average on the ITEM SAVING THROW CHART
Bone/Ivory - 8 Oils - 13 Rock Crystal - 8
Cloth - 12 Paper - 13 Rope - 8
Glass - 10 Potions - 16 Wood, thick - 7
Leather - 7 Pottery - 7 Wood, thin - 9
Metal - 7
Magical items save at a +3 in addition to their normal bonuses, if
any, and must be completely destroyed or the spell has no effect.
Note: A potion is magical, but the container holding it is not.
Each missile affects a 3 inch cube of material, thus one
missile would be insufficient to destroy a stone bridge, but it
could snap a key support, causing it to fall; a portcullis would
remain standing, but several broken bars could form an opening.
Multiple missiles against one specific area will call for multiple
saves, thus, at high levels, the item in question is almost
assured of breaking. The caster gains 1 missile per 2 levels to a
maximum of 5.
Mourquin's Target ( Abjuration ) Level : 7
Range : 20 yards + 10 yards / level Components : V, M, S
Duration : 1 rd + 1 rd/level Casting Time : 6
Area of Effect : 2" radius Saving Throw : None
This spell is used mainly against shielded creatures,
affecting a number equal to the caster's level within the area of
effect. " Shielded " refers to invisible, astral, ethereal, out-
of-phase, hidden, blurred, blinked or protected creatures or those
affected only by special weapons. The targets are at -1 on all
saves, +2 on armor class and become visible to the caster and
anyone within 15' of him. For the duration of the spell these
creatures may be attacked normally, special weapons not with
standing, although magic resistance remains in effect. The reverse
of the spell makes the caster immune to all gaze, breath and touch
attacks, weapons of less then +3 enchantment and cloaks him from
all forms of divination magic for the duration of the spell. The
material componets are a crystal prizm, a gold, silver or iron
nugget and a magic weapon which the caster must keep on his
person, but may not use.
Aryeric's Cloak of Protection ( Abjuration ) Level : 4
Range : 0 Components : V, M, S
Duration : 2 rd + 2 rd/level Casting Time : 4
Area of Effect : 3" radius Saving Throw : None
Aryeric's spell aids the companions of the caster. When
cast a dim apparition of the caster appears and swells to cover
the area of effect. A number of creatures equal to the casters
level plus one are affected. While under the cloak they gain +2 on
all saving throws, and save vs magic as the caster. In addition
the caster may transfer damage incurred by spell attacks from one
creature to another within the cloak. The area of effect moves
with the caster and any creature which moves beyond the boundary
looses the protection completely, even if he reenters later. If
cast on only one creature, the bonus is +4 and has double normal
duration. The material components are a strip of cloth soaked in
the spell casters personal magic ink.
Aranen's Divinial Armor ( Combat ) Level : 1
Range : Touch Components : V, M, S
Duration : 2 rd + 2 rd/level Casting Time : 5
Area of Effect : 1 creature/ 2 levels Saving Throw : None
This spell affects only warriors wearing metallic armor,
which is the material component. Since the spell is of dwarven
origin, elven chain mail is not affected. The warrior must also be
of the Priest's faith, though not necessarily the same Deity, or
it will have no effect. The spell turns the chosen ones into holy
warriors with benefits appropriate to the caster's level:
Additional Bonus To Armor Class Spell Immunity and
Level Hit Points All Saves Bonus Defense Adjustment
1 4 - - As wisdom of 16
2 4 +1 - -
3 4 +1 -1 -
4 8 +1 -1 As Wisdom of 17
5 12 +2 -1 -
6 16 +2 -2 -
7 16 +2 -2 As wisdom of 18
8 20 +3 -2 -
9 20 +3 -3 As wisdom of 19
10 24 +3 -3 -
If the warrior should act in a manner aposed to the caster,
such as under a charm or command spell, the Divinial Armor will
be cancelled, though the priest will not be aware of it's failure.
Hand of Fate ( Guardian ) Level : 4
Range : Touch Components : V, S
Duration : 1 hour + 1 hour per level Casting Time : 1 rd
Area of Effect : 1 creature per 3 levels Saving Throw : None
The hand of fate is a blessing from the Priest's deity upon a
creature whom the caster feels may be under threat of dire harm.
The spell works only once and an individual can have only one Hand
of Fate active at a time. The spell will take no action until such
time as the subject's death might occur. At this time, the spell
materializes as a disembodied, translucent hand seen only for a
moment only by the subject and the caster. The Hand will
intervene to prevent the death of the individual by causing some
minor mishap which saves him i.e, a death blow which would
normally hit misses as the wielder is suddenly distracted, an
object falls from nowhere to block a dragon's breath, etc. The
type of mishap is left to the dungeon master's imagination, but
almost anything will do to prevent the subject from being harmed.
All to hit and saving throws must be rolled before the Hand of
Fate intervenes, and death must have been the outcome. In the
event of inescapable doom - magic missiles, a " HELD " creature
stabbed from behind, unconscious and the target for a fireball,
missed system shock roll etc. - the spell calls for one reroll of
either the damage or saving throw. The Hand of Fate subject choses
the better roll. If death is still the result, the subject dies.
Fate, after all, is fickle.
Copyright © 1996 Ramon Delgado
A Poem (Untitled)
For all the dreams I've dreamed to see
and all the hopes I've kept.
Me is me and I'll always be
until this world I've left.
Then I'll know if wishes go
where all the dreams have fled.
And if there'll be eternity
in the lands beyond the dead.
Copyright © 1996 Idalmis Cooley
Fun in the Sun
The sun hung burning bright over an aqua blue and green sea, lazily tanning bodies deep shades of bronze and copper. It was definitely a hot day in Miami Beach and an even hotter day for Cara as she observed the oil-slicked bodies . Strong muscular "beach boys" paraded about and throughout the beach club vying for the attention of the glistening goddesses in the sun. Watching them was making Cara even hotter, then again, even the goddesses were making her hotter...
Cara quickly shook her head, bringing herself to present time, knowing full well that even the seemingly harmless goddesses packed enough gear and even cybertech to kill the unwary.
"Yep," she sighed, "things haven't gotten better in South Beach." Immediately realizing her mistake she stepped back into the shadows of one of the beach club's doorways.
Frag it, she thought, If I don't pay more attention to my surroundings someone might just hear me and realize I'm here.
As a matter of fact no one, not even the cocktail runners, realized she was there. After all, Cara was good; some say the best in all of Dade and Broward county. Some even went as far as to say she was the best mercenary in all of the Caribbean League. For now, however, she had to play it safe. The Mafia had, much to her chagrin, placed a price on her head. Not a bad one at that, either, two hundred thousand yen or an equivalent amount in Caribbean dolares.
Too bad I can't turn myself in and collect. I could use the snaps, she thought. But then again this only makes life more fun...or is it funner? Hmm...never was to good at english. Anyway, it's getting late and my Rasta-boy ain't shown yet.
Slowly her head turned scanning the beach, pool, poolside bar and lounge, her cybereyes automatically adjusting electronically controlled pupils to allow for extremes of light and shadows. Nothing yet, no sign of Rastas anywhere...
A soft scraping sound to her immediate right, from within the beach club playhouse caused her to spin extraordinarily fast, bringing her cyber enhanced reflexes to bear, extracting razor-edged titanium claws on the throat of some similarly shadowed human.
Immediately her cybereyes compensated for the quick change in lighting caused by her wired reflexes...and her blades retracted, disappearing in the long shafts running underneath the flesh of her forearm.
"Christ, you're gonna get yourself killed like that someday, Strings," she spat quietly.
"Nah, mon. Jah, He protect me mon. Jah keepin' me safe. But you mon, you needin' to be lookin' out fah youself. Word come down through the posses that Don V raise the price on you skull."
What he said disturbed her little. What did disturb her though was the way he seemed to look into her eyes and into her head almost as if he only saw a skull. Creepy, she thought, but then anytime you deal with a Rastafarian you seem to deal with someone tuned in to another plane of existence.
"Well," her musical voiced chimed, "are you here to collect on that or to talk business."
"Easy lady-mon. Jah be wantin' Don V and 'is boys 'round as much as these cartel-boys."
So it all boils down to that she realized. The cartel drug lords are moving in on Carib territory and the Rastas are getting squeezed from both sides. First the Mafia and then the muscle of the Cartel rulers of Gran Colombia-as they refer to their nation. Yet, to the United Nations, they're still the United Latin-American States or ULAS for short. If such were the case then, she realized, the Rastas would bring much of their hard earned dolares and yen to bear on a war to control the streets. It was bad enough that the Jamaican posses lost a lot of income when the former United States legalized marijuana way back in 1997, but now they were facing competition from the mob on their prostitution and protection rackets. Poor Rastas, now they had to deal with the cartel on the caribbean homefront. "It's definitely gonna be fraggin' ugly in the streets."
"Yah mon. 'N there be lots of yen to be made in the process fah skilled help, mon. That is why we needin' to be talkin', you 'n I."
"Just name the place Strings, I'll be there..." and she added "Mon." That brought a smile to Strings' face showing off all his gold-crowned teeth.
"One hour, mon. A black Bronco, wit' Carib plates and flyin' Rasta colors'll be in front of dis place, ya hearin' mon. Yah have tree minutes, mon, to be gettin' inside."
"Will do Strings." she acknowledged. Then as thoughts turned to her upcoming mission she asked, "Are you assigning a cowboy?"
"No, mon. You be the one decidin' on your own computah-boy. There be good yen fah him too. Jah says."
Now it was her turn to smile because Strings knew who she would call. His name is Hunter. Best computer hacker/programmer in the Carib League; and this might just be what he wants and needs to project him into to the big times with the real desperados of the United American States.
Once again her melodic voice chimed, "Good deal...Strings..." Her words filtered off into nothing as she realized that Strings was gone, having departed while she thought of Hunter. Well, at least I've still got the beach to keep me goin'. She turned slowly and entered the first floor of the beachclub, passed the zero-g billiard tables and holo-football games, and sat at the bar to wait out the hour. Darn shame, she thought as she ordered her Sapporo, that the medics fixed me up so that alcohol will have no effect on me. Makes partying a little hard...
"Hey! Easy does it man! What are ya' tryin' to do? Get me killed before I have a chance to log my name on the universal hard drive hall-of-fame?" It isn't easy riding in the back of a car running down streets at break-neck speeds; but riding in a truck at break-neck speeds was definitely not fun. "I'm never gonna believe those Bronco commercials again about their smooth ridin' trucks."
An ebony skinned face, complete with blood-shot eyes, peered back at Kyle from the passenger seat and smiled warmly, "Relax computah-boy. Jah will care fah you. We be there soon, mon."
"You've said that already. And who the frag is Jah?!"
"Relax, mon. Jah is ev'rytin' and ev'rytin' is Jah. His powah feeds the rythms 'n guides our grooves, mon. P'rhaps you be wantin' some smoke, mon?"
"No, thank you. Just get me wherever it is your boss needs me. By the way, where are we?"
This time the driver peered back at Kyle and Kyle was surprised to see that this rasta didn't wear his hair in dreadlocks. What surprised him even further was that the rasta's eyes were clouded over by cataracts! The driver was literally blind! Immediately Kyle realized that the driver must have had a tech job and must be jacked in to the truck's computer.
"We be jammin' down Bird Road, mon. Soon we be hittin' Palmetto Expressway and Dolphin to the beach, mon. Not our fault, mon, that you be livin' in Kendalltown."
"Well at least its safer there. Unlike the downtown sprawl - ruled by gangs and thugs."
The driver turned back to his duties even though his visual attention, what little there could be of it, wasn't needed. He was jacked-in to the auto-drive computer; dual-wires running from the dashboard to a metal plate with a female jack attached to the left side of his half-shaved head. The computer created the image of the road, and surrounding vehicles in his "mind's eye". Better yet, the on-board autoputer plotted their course on a street map, visible only to the driver who was jacked-in so that the driver could always find his or her way out of an area.
The Rasta in the passenger seat shot Kyle a glare that would chill the computer wizard had he been paying attention. Instead Kyle found himself admiring the scenery of the Tropical Park Survivalist stadium, where the Kendall Princes and the Westchester Lords played. Even though they were only farm teams for the big league watching them play other teams was fun. Their contracts prohibited killing members when the two teams played each other but against other opponents there were no use of force limitiations. Kyle was about to speak but found his face slam into the rear window of the Bronco as the driver executed a sharp turn onto the Palmetto expressway. A smile played itself on the face of the Rastafarian in the passenger seat.
Cara was tired of waiting at the bar, not one of her five beers having any effect on her and decided to wait in front the beachclub for the truck. Slowly she made her way past a group of adolescent boys playing holographic football. Each and every step exaggerated to tease the boys. She could instinctively feel their eyes checking out her ass as she strutted past them, of course a smile upon her lips.
Outside it was hot. Too damned hot! Unfortunately, she had to be prepared to make her contact, else she could have stripped to her panties and taken a swim in the ocean. Oh well, she thought, after all the Coasties did issue an advisory that the oil and chemical levels at Miami Beach were approaching `unsafe' levels today. She heard before she saw the Bronco approach. But then again it was coming from around the corner and with its front windows rolled down anyone could have guessed from the blaring reggae music that it was a carib vehicle. She knew it was her contact because `one' it arrived exactly on time, which meant that the Truck operated with an onboard computer, and `two' the face smiling at her from the passenger side was none other than her friend, Pearls. Pearls was always a good looking black man, his gold-capped teeth not disturbing Cara at all, but he was always so fraggin' stoned that it was like dealing with an adolescent.
The back door of the four-door family sized Bronco open to permit Cara entry and she leaped in, glad to have a change of atmosphere. Surprise and happiness made itself evident on her face as she realized that Kyle was in the back seat with her.
"Well, well, well. What have we here. Mr. Hunter. Or can I just call you Kyle?" she said jokingly, her arm shooting out to embrace her friend.
"Sweetheart, darling, light of my life. You can call me anything you'd like, even if it were only to be found in Webster's Dictionary of Obscenities."
Cara had to laugh. Kyle always brought out the playful girl in her and managed to make even a grim situation look harmless with some little piece of wit. His blond hair, closely cropped, deep blue eyes and strong Roman nose made him quite good looking. As a matter of fact she always thought him `enough' good looking to be with if it weren't for the fact that he was so...so... un street-wise. She remembered something that he had called some other computer hacker wannabes, it was an old term from the late 1980's. "So tell me rich kid," after all any good hacker worth his salt had access to a multitude of funds, "ya still running around by yourself like a nerd. Or have ya managed to scam some little wench and keep her all locked up?" Immediately she realized she had said the wrong thing because his eyes shifted sideways for a split second and his smiled lessened, although his attempt to cover up was still impressive.
"Well you know, I'm still waiting for Ms. Perfect to show herself at my door. Until then I'm consigned to make due with bimbettes and gold-diggers." Hunter's face clearly showed no joy at this point and even hinted at some deeper pain or fear.
"Ya know it don't matter Kyle. I'm still here for ya. All ya gots ta do is whistle." Cara added the last statement as she remembered an old colorized movie he had shown her.
Pearls cut into the conversation with an advisory note, "Yah best strappin' ya-selves in place, mon. We be headin' tru the danger zones of O'erton." Truly did he speak of danger for that region had changed in the last decade. First, all the residents of Overtown had been relocated to other zones and the area then cordoned off by the County Prisons Department and a walled prison installed. Even though Interstate 95 ran along the outer edge and even then above Overtown without any on or off ramps there were enough prison rabble which managed to slip away long enough to climb up on the highway to harass motorists. That's why any sane motorist should avoid that stretch of I-95 but things as they are it happens to be the fastest accessway to North Miami and Fort Lauderdale. To recompense for the safety factor, or lack of, the Caribbean League passed a law which grants any private citizen of the Caribbean League a reward if he or she manages to justifiably claim an escaped prisoner as a roadkill. Fortunately for the group in the Rasta-Bronco there were no escapees to hinder their transit.
Kyle stared out the window to his immediate left and marveled at the sun beginning its long dive to the horizon arcing past puffy white and grey clouds as they swam in a rich blue sky. What he found more enjoyable, however, was the thought of working with Cara again. Each and every time he had worked with her he had come out richer and more respected, not to mention more in love.
"A yen for your thoughts?" quipped Cara as she once again intruded into Kyle's fantasy. Oddly enough she did not have the slightest inclination of Kyle's attraction to her. "You seem quite happy at this moment. I mean your smile, its ...oh worth killing for, if you understand what I mean."
"Yes, I believe I do. If you're inferring that you wish to be this happy at all times, then I do understand what you mean. But to each one of us is self-assigned a different combination of events, situations or desires which en toto quantify happiness."
Cara thought to herself, There he goes again, saying shit that's beyond me. This time she spoke aloud, "That's nice Kyle. Is that you or something from your quotations chip?"
Kyle's face bloomed into a smile as he realized that she didn't understand what he had said, "That's me, darling. All me." "Oh..."
The remainder of the ride was uneventful which led to much discussion of what had transpired in the lives of Kyle and Cara since their last job together. They had fun talking of their last job, which had been breaking into a megacorporation and assisting a corporate researcher in his defection, making it look like a kidnapping so the megacorps datafile clerks would erase any potentially useful information on the doctor. Altogether it was a successful venture despite the fact that the idiot defector left his research data chips back in his old lab. Fortunately Kyle was able to access the corporate database library through a public access in the company's mainframe. Once inside the system it was only a matter of overriding the access codes to enable him to download the much desired data. He was even able to make a dupe of the data and after having turned over the defector and his data, sold the dupe to a competitor corporation for 310,000 yen.
"We just 'bout there, mon. 'Nother minute 'r so," spoke the 'til then silent driver. "We be leavin' yous to doin' you thing. Pearls 'n I, we be jammin'"
"Yah, mon. We be jammin'. May yah live long 'n prospah. 'N may Jah watch ovah yah."
Cara spoke first, "Thanks guys. Remember, walk always in the footsteps of Jah. He's guiding you."
"And remember, your always welcome to drop by my place for a party some night," added Kyle.
"Ohh! Fraggin' great, mon. We be takin' yah up on that, mon," responded Pearls as his face broke into a smile and the car slowed to a halt. "Just approach them gates, mon," he added pointing across the street, "ovah there, mon. 'n give this pass-key to the guard mon. Now go, there be little time for yahs."
Cara and Kyle unstrapped their passive restraints and stepped out of the back seat of the four door Bronco and watched as it immediately sped away up the Fort Lauderdale stretch off A-1-A.
...to be continued
Copyright © 1996 Nelson Remy
Imagine that you are a general of a Mid-Evil army and you stand in front of a company of human fighters in light armor, wielding short swords. To your left is a small company of archers with short bows. Beyond them is a small but formidable company of heavy calvary. Protecting their flank is a small group of cross bow men. Behind them stands the Hero of the realm. An experienced knight on his fearsome Griffin. He is what you expect to break the back of your foe.
Your foe.....
They stand across from you of the other side of a small valley. You know you face a numerically equal force, but how will your men react when they come face to face with an army of living DEAD? They are lead by Setra, a powerful Mummy, and his Captains, a Wraith and a Wight. They lead a small army of skeletons. To offset your calvary your foe sports a Demon Chariot. If this army was not already scary enough, in their mist you spy a horror of horrors, a TROLL.....
An epic battle ensued from this gathering. It featured a Hero that turned and ran in fear, missed his saving throw, and had a troll wonder aimlessly about the battle field, missed his leadership roll.
It the end, Good prevails. Setra and the human general die in the same round, with the destruction of their leader the undead disintegrated.
It took Alex and me about 3 hours to play out the battle where, thanks to Marc Read's patience, we where able not only to pick up the basics of the game, but had a great time fighting it out; both in single hand to hand battles and in strategic placement and deployment of our troops. Its about the same as the battles that we have experienced in AD&D with the added dimensions found in BattleTech.
To get started all you need to do is pick a starter kit that goes for about $50. This contains figuring for two armies, elves and goblins, rule books and templates. Of curse, its up to your imagination to build an army and make it take any form you like. There are supplementary books to define and help you build armies of both High and Dark Elves, Dwarves, Skaven (rats), Humans, and Chaos (Demons). It is very easy to spend lot of money creating your armies. Just gathering Champions, Heros, Generals, and Demons have run in some about $100 to $150 per figure. However, it is just as easy to put together an inexpensive army.
Once, you got your army together all you need is to find another would be general and meet on a mutually chosen battle field. If you think one on one is not challenging enough, this game could be played with multiple players. The number of generals are limited to the room available for the battle field. Always remember that this game is based on one very important principle "Strategy". You may have put together a powerful army but if you deploy poorly or use bad judgement in movement even a weak foe could out flank you and ultimately beat you.
I will be picking up a Start Kit in the near future and expect to be playing on a regular bases at Neutral Ground, where I expect to learn enough to teach anyone else interested in playing out those epic battles of AD&D in full miniature scale.
By the way there are magic users and priest evolved in this game also.
Copyright © 1996 Luis JiminezEveryone is laying low at the moment. Perhaps something is afoot. Maybe the foul stench of evil lays upon the lands. Or quite possibly there was no room.
E-mail: We constantly use e-mail since many of our members have e-mail accounts. Everything from birth announcements to random blathering has passed into our in-boxes. We ask questions and seek advice, schedule games, and pass rumors.
Usenet (newsgroups): Many of our members use the newsgroups to varying degrees. Some casually skim through a few newsgroups, others scan groups regularly looking for news, rumors, and information to pass to other club members. Late-breaking news such as Wizards of the Coast dropping all their RPG's (and Atlas Games picking up Ars Magica) were first picked up in the newsgroups.
World-Wide Web: This is where we keep our home page. It serves as an on-line reference for our club, with the membership list (with e-mail addresses), latest news, and upcoming events. It's also the archive for our 17-year AD&D campaign, with stories, characters, etc. A convenient set of gaming resources is provided for access to gaming companies, gaming clubs, and other gaming resources on the Web.
MUSH: MUSHes, MUDs and the like are text-based areas, much like the old Infocom games (Zork, etc.). The difference is you create your own character, most of the other characters are run by real people, and in some cases you can actually build the world you play in. Our MUSH of choice is OtherMUSH (other.org 4201). It allows players to build their own areas. The "mood" there is also very zany. Extremely zany; just about anything goes. If you're ever there, make sure to visit Sym and relax in the Comfy Room, play in the Game Room, or visit Timmy.
IRC (Internet Relay Chat): This is basically the chat room(s) of the Internet. You can join others in existing rooms, create your own, and even be in more than one at a time. We just recently experienced IRC in a new way. Eric Berlin, a columnist for Internet World magazine wanted to write a column on playing roleplaying games using IRC. Two of us, plus one other, played a 6-hour AD&D adventure DM'ed by Eric Berlin. In the next issue we'll have details, including some tips to running your own IRC games. You must experience this - we had a fantastic time.