A new Triangle D&D campaign will begin on September 11, 2010. Set 22 years after The Vivec Saga: Part 2, it will feature previously unexplored parts of the world and some descendants of Vivec Saga characters.
The world is changing. Magic seems to be draining from the world, perhaps returning to its source as the god of magic resumes his position. Undead have begun to plague the people of the world, spreading terror and disease. A global empire extends its grasp, for better or for worse. Will the new heroes be up to the challenge?
Find out in Legacy of Shadows!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
A New Home for Triangle D&D
It is with great pleasure that I introduce to you, avid Triangle D&D fans, our new home on the web. Over the course of the next few months, we will be transferring all the content contained in this blog as well as in our wiki to our new website. There's not much there yet, but keep checking back. I'm sure you'll be as glad as we are to have everything in one place.
So without further ado, I give to you www.mloclam.com!
So without further ado, I give to you www.mloclam.com!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Bluwiki Back Online
Bluwiki.com was down for a few days, but now it's back online for all you die-hard Triangle D&D fans out there...
Friday, July 30, 2010
Rebirth: Campaign Chronicle
Campaign summaries from the Rebirth campaign are now being posted on the wiki page! The page will be updated approximately daily (for real this time) until they are all posted. You can read them here or click the new link in the sidebar. Enjoy!
Friday, January 1, 2010
The Black Sword, Chapter 6: A Small Injustice
The sun was sinking in the western sky as Ghaleon, Soirse, and Malcolm strode down the dusty street leading into town, the sounds and smells of The Tumblin' Dice fading behind them. As the daylight faded into the orange hues of dusk, Ghaleon led his companions on a twisting course through alleys and side-streets in order to reach the smiths' row.
"Why do we all have to stay at my house again?" Malcolm asked, annoyed.
"I already told you," Ghaleon replied smoothly, showing only a hint of frustration, "my manor is too far out of our way, and we have to get to the old man as fast as possible tomorrow morning. I don't feel like getting eaten alive by parasites today. It's almost been a week."
"And we don't know what Siobhan's going to need to make the cure," added Soirse.
Malcolm made no reply, and the three continued to wind their way through the back passages of Altair. Suddenly, Soirse reached forward and brushed Ghaleon's arm. He stopped immediately. Malcolm took two more steps and stopped as well. Another moment passed, and the warrior and warlock heard the approaching commotion.
Laughing and jeering drifted down the alleyway, followed by the silhouettes of three large men, the largest of whom seemed to be carrying something that writhed, squirmed and whined. Ghaleon stood in the center of the alley, ready to spring into a fighting stance as the men came into view. Night had fallen, and dim light flickered from the windows high above the alley. The faint glow that illuminated the men's faces revealed them to be as ugly as the words that drifted along before them. The wriggling bundle borne by the largest of them was revealed to be a very displeased young halfling.
"Out of the way, stranger," a gravelly voice called from the man holding the halfling, "You don't want no trouble here."
"Please help me!" cried the halfling, wrenching his body up and biting his captor's hand. The thug yelped and the halfling scrambled back behind Ghaleon. The large men began to pace menacingly and deliberately toward the warrior, grinding their knuckles into their fists and assuming other confrontational postures. Malcolm and Soirse emerged from the shadows on either side of Ghaleon.
"Best step aside," the ruffian on the left sneered, "This little peck was caught stealing bread from Bertram here," he motioned to the man on the right. "He knows what happens to his kind when they steal from normal folks."
Ghaleon bent his knees slightly, shifting his weight to his back leg, "You three should know better than to talk to me like that," he returned, maintaining eye contact with the largest thug.
"Ghaleon, we don't want any trouble," Soirse whispered to the fighter, "attention would not be good right now."
Grudgingly, he nodded, holding his gaze on the leader. "Just walk away. Turn around, leave this fellow alone, and go."
"You defending that little pile of scum?" the gravelly voice mocked, "What are you, some kind of peck lover?"
"Might be I am," Ghaleon replied sternly, "But if you're smart, you won't test me on it."
Emitting an angered growl, the leader took three long, clumsy strides directly toward Ghaleon, swinging a gnarled and calloused fist as he came. In an instant, the fighter ducked the blow, loosed his sword, and barreled into the thug's stomach, leading with his shoulder. The mountain of a man collapsed with an audible thud, breath all fled from his lungs, gasping as he felt steel pressed to his cheek. He looked up, seething but powerless, and Ghaleon nodded. The thug rose slowly, backing away until he was out of reach of the warrior's sword. He and his friends turned and ran.
"Thank you, sir," the quivering halfling squeaked. He could not have been more than ten years old, "I thought I was done and gone."
"Run along," Ghaleon growled, "I'm no friend to your kind."
"But you saved me," he trembled, "And I want to thank you. My name's Nebin. See, my family and I don't --"
"I said run along," the warrior interrupted, angrily, "I don't give a rat's ass about your family."
Nebin's eyes started to water as he backed away. Soirse stepped forward and knelt, eyes level with the halfling's, and touched the place where his shoulder and his neck met, muttering some magic words. The blue-black bruise that covered the skin seemed to evaporate as she finished the brief incantation.
"Run along, Nebin," Soirse whispered, "You're welcome."
"Why do we all have to stay at my house again?" Malcolm asked, annoyed.
"I already told you," Ghaleon replied smoothly, showing only a hint of frustration, "my manor is too far out of our way, and we have to get to the old man as fast as possible tomorrow morning. I don't feel like getting eaten alive by parasites today. It's almost been a week."
"And we don't know what Siobhan's going to need to make the cure," added Soirse.
Malcolm made no reply, and the three continued to wind their way through the back passages of Altair. Suddenly, Soirse reached forward and brushed Ghaleon's arm. He stopped immediately. Malcolm took two more steps and stopped as well. Another moment passed, and the warrior and warlock heard the approaching commotion.
Laughing and jeering drifted down the alleyway, followed by the silhouettes of three large men, the largest of whom seemed to be carrying something that writhed, squirmed and whined. Ghaleon stood in the center of the alley, ready to spring into a fighting stance as the men came into view. Night had fallen, and dim light flickered from the windows high above the alley. The faint glow that illuminated the men's faces revealed them to be as ugly as the words that drifted along before them. The wriggling bundle borne by the largest of them was revealed to be a very displeased young halfling.
"Out of the way, stranger," a gravelly voice called from the man holding the halfling, "You don't want no trouble here."
"Please help me!" cried the halfling, wrenching his body up and biting his captor's hand. The thug yelped and the halfling scrambled back behind Ghaleon. The large men began to pace menacingly and deliberately toward the warrior, grinding their knuckles into their fists and assuming other confrontational postures. Malcolm and Soirse emerged from the shadows on either side of Ghaleon.
"Best step aside," the ruffian on the left sneered, "This little peck was caught stealing bread from Bertram here," he motioned to the man on the right. "He knows what happens to his kind when they steal from normal folks."
Ghaleon bent his knees slightly, shifting his weight to his back leg, "You three should know better than to talk to me like that," he returned, maintaining eye contact with the largest thug.
"Ghaleon, we don't want any trouble," Soirse whispered to the fighter, "attention would not be good right now."
Grudgingly, he nodded, holding his gaze on the leader. "Just walk away. Turn around, leave this fellow alone, and go."
"You defending that little pile of scum?" the gravelly voice mocked, "What are you, some kind of peck lover?"
"Might be I am," Ghaleon replied sternly, "But if you're smart, you won't test me on it."
Emitting an angered growl, the leader took three long, clumsy strides directly toward Ghaleon, swinging a gnarled and calloused fist as he came. In an instant, the fighter ducked the blow, loosed his sword, and barreled into the thug's stomach, leading with his shoulder. The mountain of a man collapsed with an audible thud, breath all fled from his lungs, gasping as he felt steel pressed to his cheek. He looked up, seething but powerless, and Ghaleon nodded. The thug rose slowly, backing away until he was out of reach of the warrior's sword. He and his friends turned and ran.
"Thank you, sir," the quivering halfling squeaked. He could not have been more than ten years old, "I thought I was done and gone."
"Run along," Ghaleon growled, "I'm no friend to your kind."
"But you saved me," he trembled, "And I want to thank you. My name's Nebin. See, my family and I don't --"
"I said run along," the warrior interrupted, angrily, "I don't give a rat's ass about your family."
Nebin's eyes started to water as he backed away. Soirse stepped forward and knelt, eyes level with the halfling's, and touched the place where his shoulder and his neck met, muttering some magic words. The blue-black bruise that covered the skin seemed to evaporate as she finished the brief incantation.
"Run along, Nebin," Soirse whispered, "You're welcome."
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