FASA 365 Day 190, Rag n’ Bone Man. Dark Fae. For the 1879 Game line.
For some time now, in the cities and towns of England; there are the Rag n’Bone men.
Think door to door pick up and disposal of the broken, un needed, and un wanted things in the home.
Garbage men? Ok, but not the everyday garbage. They do not deal in refuse or slop… that’s a different guy.
ANYWAY… Parents have been known to keep their children in line by Telling the tale of the terrible Rag N’Bone Man, with the warning.
“If you don’t start mindin’ me, I’m gonna give you away to the “Rag n’ Bone Man”. He will work you night and day, and whip you to sleep every night.”
Well, this led to terrifying screams whenever one of these harmless junk dealers would drive his cart through the streets.
Children dashing behind their mothers skirts, Clinging to them for dear life. Begging.
“PLEASE, Mummy, don’t give me away to the Rag n’ Bone Man!!”
Well, when magic came back to the world, so did THE ORIGINAL “Rag N’Bone Man” A Dark Fae creature who is the basis of the dark and ancient wives tale. Dealing particularly in naughty little children. Never leaving until they get what they came for.
So, Mothers and Fathers, be warned, do not threaten your children idly or the next words you hear may be, “Rag N’Bone Man mum. I’m here for the child.”
FASA 365 Day 189 Carcerem Venato, (Dungeon Guide or Tracker)
There you are. The last surviving member of your party. Surrounded by all manner of demon, ghoul, and carnivorous beastie. They are closing in. In the distance you see the remains of an old church.
Remains is a generous description. it is one corner of the buildings east wall. But it’s all the cover you can find, so you gather your strength and run toward it.
You reach the pile of rocks that was once this cities place of worship and lean back, but not too heavily. You wouldn’t want to push over the last remnants of this forgotten, forsaken temple. Nor your only place to hide.
You stand there in the shadow of the wall and take stock of what you have left to work with. No arrows for your bow. No swords or daggers as they were abandoned in the carcass of the first monster.
Realizing the hopelessness of the situation, you begin to laugh. Slowly at first… it’s a desperate, mad laugh. Without joy, only tears.
You’re out of weapons, out of friends, out of options, out of breath and out of luck.
Feeling a tap on the toe of your boot, You look down and see THIS.
It speaks?!?
It is a guttural, gruesome noise that escapes its… lips. But indeed, it speaks.
“I am Venato. I can lead you to safety. I know a way… Follow.”
It skitters away on the fingers that are now its legs. Attached by some ungodly magics to the wrists and bits of forearm that spine up into the base of the skull.
As it reaches the base of the crumbling pulpit, it turns, once more, and speaks; with more urgency….
“FOLLOW, MY LORD!”
Well, Adventurer? Do you follow?
Artists Note: The whole time I was working on this one, I couldn’t get a certain tune outta my head. The Tune?… Spiderman, Spiderman, Does whatever a spider can….
FASA 365 Day 188, Spicatas Pisces Opticus, (Wiskered Optic Fish) 4-8 inch.
Rare Cyclops breed. A Fishermans boon.
Adventurers Note: It is believed, among the Saurid races that catching and eating of the Optic fish, is a delicacy indeed. The rich fatty body has a natural delicate buttery flavor, and the eye is filled with a sweet, tangy center. The honor of consuming the eye goes to the one who caught the fish.
After popping the boiled eyeball in between your back molars, fisherman say they’re eyesight is improved, so much so, that they can see where to cast their nets better, in the worst conditions, for the best return.
FASA 365 Day 187, Ululatus Simiae Saltu Inverso, (Inverted Howling Jungle Ape). 6-8 ft outstretched. Vegetarian.
Found high in the humid jungle canopy.
Not aggressive like a baboon, but will defend itself. First, by a LOUD high pitch howling. And then physically if necessary.
NOT a bat nor a sloth. However, it does spend 99% of its time hanging from its feet. Upside down. Picking the “high” growing fruit.
Adventurers note: The only real time to avoid the inverted howler is when it appears “upright”. Why?
Ask yourself, if you were upside down and felt the call of nature,
would you want it running down.. up… would you want it dribbling toward your head? No you wouldn’t. Neither would it.
So, if you see the animal upright, it would be best to NOT be directly beneath it.
FASA 365 Day 186, Cedric Peltershine. (cursed).
An 1879 Side tale.
Scattered all over the world are malevolent purveyors of magic. These creatures, djinn, or geanies; were hunted, trapped, and hidden away as they were not to be trusted. Stuffed into small bottles, lamps, or whatever vessels were at hand.
The djinn were the epitome for the reasoning “be careful what you wish for, you may get it”
Enter Cedric Peltershine. Chimney Sweep.
While busily toiling away on the older side of London town. High up on a particularly ancient rooftop. Repairing a particularly ancient and dilapidated chimney. He pulls apart the loose rock and mortar. Carefully, so as to not have the entire chimney fall apart and slide down the roof and cascade onto the unsuspecting people; some 20 or so feet below. There is a glint of shine, behind the soot and rubble, that catches his eye.
“What’s this then?” he thinks.
Freeing the decanter from its nest. Inspecting the strangly placed oddity, he begins to rub away centuries of soot and grime.
What happens?
Of course, there’s a jolt, a rattle, and a bang of pressure released magics. Sending poor Cedric sprawling backwards. Uncontrollably down and off the rooftop, to what would be his most certain death. Cedric never actually saw the djinn escape its prison. He only remembers two things from that moment in time.
First, he remember thinking outloud. “I wish I could fly like a bird.”
Second, he remembers hearing a faint whisper. A dark and guttural voice in his ear. An ominous whisper, that with one word would save his life, and curse the sweep forever.
The voice simply said. “Granted”.
Artists Note: My wife’s blueberry bush is being stripped by the indigenous critters. We never see the culprits. But THIS is where my imagination takes me.