Poetic Musings
Thank you for taking this literary journey with me! Here I post personal thoughts on social issues, reflections about day-to-day living, and of course a healthy amount of stories inspired by the many games I’ve played over the years. I try to update several times a week, and genuinely appreciate the care and support of all who read these words, whether the post is fanciful or heartfelt.
The Where to Start page has great suggestions for first-time visitors, and all posts are sorted by the Categories you see in the right-side menu; feel free to narrow things down!
If you enjoy my work please consider supporting me with a small donation!
Conquest: Banes in the Dark
The spire's entrance was located behind a large gate, effectively sealing it off from the town outside. Rumors persisted about spiritual entities – "Banes" – that would slay any mortal who ventured inside. Stories of monsters hiding in dark places were...
Recesses (Part 2)
Approaching the foreboding, Victorian-era opera house that remained all but invisible to mortal eyes, the small contingent of Sonoma County vampires felt increasingly unnerved. With broken windows hanging open to the night air and paint peeling off in sheets, the building looked like it hadn’t seen a touch of maintenance or renovation since …
Creating a Campaign
In my experience, one of the most important bedrocks of a successful gaming campaign – whatever the setting or rules-system – is to have consensus between the players and the Game Master (GM) as what type of game is being played, what kind of story is being told. A...
Headspace (Run Idea)
Back in the twentieth century many crime syndicates employed "bagmen," enforcers who collected payments and were scary enough that they wouldn't become targets themselves. This way there were no records of payments, nothing to link the bosses to the extortion. Much...
Conquest: the Singer
We made a surprising discovery as we investigated the town, speaking to merchants and learning more about the local political climate. Entering a small tavern I saw Sirin, the Scarlet Chorus Archon of Song, enthralling a room full of locals. She had the...
MotW: Hanging Over
The hunters slept deep beneath the heavy blanket of alcohol as dawn's pallor crept over the distant peaks of the Sierra Nevadas. In that little nook of the sprawling city, the night smelled of oak, dew-damp grass and the slightest hint of skunk all hung thinly in the...
