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breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

I must reproduce this, for sheer amusement. The following was posted to the Digger Forum
over at Graphic Smash, by one Jules:


NOTE: This has not been play-tested!

Nor am I willing to play-test it!

Nor have I really read through it carefully!

Nor am I really even a huge D20 system fan!

*+2 strength (biceps with feet!), +1 intelligence (smarter than yer hack'n'slashing half-orc barbarian), -2 charisma, -1 dexterity (claws pose a bit of a disadvantage there)
Small: As a Small creature, a wombat gains a +1 size bonus to Armor Class, a +1 size bonus on attack rolls, and a +4 size bonus on Hide checks, but she uses smaller weapons than humans use, and her lifting and carrying limits are three-quarters of those of a Medium character.
*Wombat base land speed is 20 feet
*Low-Light Vision: A wombat can see twice as far as a human in starlight, moonlight, torchlight, and similar conditions of poor illumination. She retains the ability to distinguish color and detail under these conditions.
*Automatic Languages: Common and Terran. Bonus Languages: Undercommon, Dwarven, Gnome, Gnoll, Celestial
*+4 racial bonus on saving throws against fear, charm, and illusion-based spells (Hmm... They didn't cut the gems that massive dragon has in its hoard as well as they might have. Hey, where did everyone just go?).
*Special charisma modifier: In normal circumstances, wombats' tend to let their plain speech and rough ways give them a bad impression, giving them their standard -2 charisma penalty. However, in non-verbal aspects, they are quite charismatic, being very cute: as such, if prevented from speaking, but somehow called upon to make a Charisma check, they actually have a +2 bonus relative to their default modifier. (for example, if a naïve human NPC comes across a prone, unconscious wombat, he'll think it's very cute (high charisma); once he treats the wombat and it regains consciousness, and starts saying things like "you cast a magical SPELL to heal me? Well no wonder the wound isn't healed proper!" the wombat's charisma drops back down to its default modifier.
*+2 racial bonus to Craft, Appraise, Profession, Knowledge (architecture and engineering), and Knowledge (Dungeoneering)
*AC counts as +3 if attacked from behind, due to armored rump.
*Special restriction: atheism. Wombats can never worship any deities. They aren't, strictly speaking, atheist, in that they believe gods exist. They do believe, though, that they're essentially always more trouble than they're worth.
*Special restriction: anti-magical. Wombats cannot wield magical weapons, nor can they use magic. Strictly speaking, all classes are permitted to them, but I wouldn't recommend playing a Wombat sorcerer. However, wombats have access to considerably greater technologies than most races, and this partially makes up for their lack of magic (for example, they can't cast "light" spells, but they can break out a glowstick). However, these can only be crafted by the wombat itself or bought in a wombat warren. (a special "advanced wombat equipment" list is needed now, I suppose.) Give a wombat a priceless Vorpal Sword, and your wombat's first response is to try to pawn it off to the nearest unsuspecting adventurer ASAP.
*They get five free feats: Diligent, Lightning Reflexes, Endurance, and Martial Weapon Proficiency: picks, and unarmed strike (as with monks, owing to claws)

Next up--Wombat: The Tunnelling!

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

I must reproduce this, for sheer amusement. The following was posted to the Digger Forum
over at Graphic Smash, by one Jules:

NOTE: This has not been play-tested!

Nor am I willing to play-test it!

Nor have I really read through it carefully!

Nor am I really even a huge D20 system fan!

*+2 strength (biceps with feet!), +1 intelligence (smarter than yer hack’n’slashing half-orc barbarian), -2 charisma, -1 dexterity (claws pose a bit of a disadvantage there)
Small: As a Small creature, a wombat gains a +1 size bonus to Armor Class, a +1 size bonus on attack rolls, and a +4 size bonus on Hide checks, but she uses smaller weapons than humans use, and her lifting and carrying limits are three-quarters of those of a Medium character.
*Wombat base land speed is 20 feet
*Low-Light Vision: A wombat can see twice as far as a human in starlight, moonlight, torchlight, and similar conditions of poor illumination. She retains the ability to distinguish color and detail under these conditions.
*Automatic Languages: Common and Terran. Bonus Languages: Undercommon, Dwarven, Gnome, Gnoll, Celestial
*+4 racial bonus on saving throws against fear, charm, and illusion-based spells (Hmm… They didn’t cut the gems that massive dragon has in its hoard as well as they might have. Hey, where did everyone just go?).
*Special charisma modifier: In normal circumstances, wombats’ tend to let their plain speech and rough ways give them a bad impression, giving them their standard -2 charisma penalty. However, in non-verbal aspects, they are quite charismatic, being very cute: as such, if prevented from speaking, but somehow called upon to make a Charisma check, they actually have a +2 bonus relative to their default modifier. (for example, if a naïve human NPC comes across a prone, unconscious wombat, he’ll think it’s very cute (high charisma); once he treats the wombat and it regains consciousness, and starts saying things like “you cast a magical SPELL to heal me? Well no wonder the wound isn’t healed proper!” the wombat’s charisma drops back down to its default modifier.
*+2 racial bonus to Craft, Appraise, Profession, Knowledge (architecture and engineering), and Knowledge (Dungeoneering)
*AC counts as +3 if attacked from behind, due to armored rump.
*Special restriction: atheism. Wombats can never worship any deities. They aren’t, strictly speaking, atheist, in that they believe gods exist. They do believe, though, that they’re essentially always more trouble than they’re worth.
*Special restriction: anti-magical. Wombats cannot wield magical weapons, nor can they use magic. Strictly speaking, all classes are permitted to them, but I wouldn’t recommend playing a Wombat sorcerer. However, wombats have access to considerably greater technologies than most races, and this partially makes up for their lack of magic (for example, they can’t cast “light” spells, but they can break out a glowstick). However, these can only be crafted by the wombat itself or bought in a wombat warren. (a special “advanced wombat equipment” list is needed now, I suppose.) Give a wombat a priceless Vorpal Sword, and your wombat’s first response is to try to pawn it off to the nearest unsuspecting adventurer ASAP.
*They get five free feats: Diligent, Lightning Reflexes, Endurance, and Martial Weapon Proficiency: picks, and unarmed strike (as with monks, owing to claws)

Next up–Wombat: The Tunnelling!

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

Moving: The Frazzling

Hook up utilities. Disconnect utilities. Pack painting. Hook up phone. Disconnect phone. Disconnect cable. Pack more paintings. Raise credit limit. Change address for credit card, student loan, auto loan, auto insurance, mailing address, etc. Get more boxes. Pack box of dreadful student art for posterity. Listen to James tell me how we're going to have to pay our new internet provider in blood plasma for the privilege and get half the service, plus someone will come around regularly to beat us. Eat Tums. Ignore James. Pack something. Do esoteric things with the bank. (Somehow Wells-Fargo's icy grip 'pon the nation has not yet squeezed tight around the Southeast, forcing us to do arcane things with money wire transfers.) Get even more boxes. Pack something. Finish art. Eat Tums. Finish more art. Realize that contract has not been mailed--print, go out and mail. Come back. Realize that box of dried peppers for stepfather has not been mailed. Curse. Box peppers. Eat more Tums. Go out and mail peppers. Smile sheepishly at cashier. Come back. Realize that student loan payment has not been mailed. Scream a bit. Flail arms like cuttlefish amateur actor. Empty half bottle of Tums down throat. Pack.

People keep asking me "Are you looking forward to moving?" And I feel the corners of my mouth twitch up in a rictus and hear myself say, in that genial singsong that my brain uses when it knows that the Real Answer must be supressed in the interests of courtesy, "Oh, well, I'm looking forward to BEING moved, not the moving so much..."

I like packing, as I've said before, but I pretty much hate every other part of moving, and generally spend it in a nerve-frayed state, waiting for Something To Go Wrong. Actually, "I hate moving" isn't descriptive enough. I feel it lacks resonance. How about "Moving gives me the feeling that my chest cavity has been filled up with a number of small furry animals, all of them milling about and climbing on top of each other with their tiny little sharp claws, and--this is the key bit--all screaming in unison."

Much better. But I do hate moving, too.

Still, in a few days, it'll all be done, and then I can shoo the furry animals out, and all will be well.

breeden
ursulav

Moving: The Frazzling

Hook up utilities. Disconnect utilities. Pack painting. Hook up phone. Disconnect phone. Disconnect cable. Pack more paintings. Raise credit limit. Change address for credit card, student loan, auto loan, auto insurance, mailing address, etc. Get more boxes. Pack box of dreadful student art for posterity. Listen to James tell me how we’re going to have to pay our new internet provider in blood plasma for the privilege and get half the service, plus someone will come around regularly to beat us. Eat Tums. Ignore James. Pack something. Do esoteric things with the bank. (Somehow Wells-Fargo’s icy grip ‘pon the nation has not yet squeezed tight around the Southeast, forcing us to do arcane things with money wire transfers.) Get even more boxes. Pack something. Finish art. Eat Tums. Finish more art. Realize that contract has not been mailed–print, go out and mail. Come back. Realize that box of dried peppers for stepfather has not been mailed. Curse. Box peppers. Eat more Tums. Go out and mail peppers. Smile sheepishly at cashier. Come back. Realize that student loan payment has not been mailed. Scream a bit. Flail arms like cuttlefish amateur actor. Empty half bottle of Tums down throat. Pack.

People keep asking me “Are you looking forward to moving?” And I feel the corners of my mouth twitch up in a rictus and hear myself say, in that genial singsong that my brain uses when it knows that the Real Answer must be supressed in the interests of courtesy, “Oh, well, I’m looking forward to BEING moved, not the moving so much…”

I like packing, as I’ve said before, but I pretty much hate every other part of moving, and generally spend it in a nerve-frayed state, waiting for Something To Go Wrong. Actually, “I hate moving” isn’t descriptive enough. I feel it lacks resonance. How about “Moving gives me the feeling that my chest cavity has been filled up with a number of small furry animals, all of them milling about and climbing on top of each other with their tiny little sharp claws, and–this is the key bit–all screaming in unison.”

Much better. But I do hate moving, too.

Still, in a few days, it’ll all be done, and then I can shoo the furry animals out, and all will be well.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.