I recently attended BurningCon, a convention devoted to the games published by BWHQ in Queens, NY: The Burning Wheel, Burning Empires, Torchbearer, and Mouse Guard are the big ones. BWHQ haven’t rel...

YouTube video by Tristan Baldi

We Want to Help You Attract More Birds To Your Yard! As Seen On Welcome to Bird Watching HQ Our mission is to help connect people to nature. MORE ABOUT BWHQ We do this by providing proven and effectiv...

A collection of videos about Luke Crane's new card-driven roleplaying game, Special Patrol Group: Interceptor

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I head down to Indianapolis for GenCon. This year at the BWHQ booth (2703) we will have two, count them, two new products. The long awaited _Middarmark 2E_ for _Torchbearer_ and _Interceptor_. On top of the usual BWHQ fair we will also have copies of _Yggdrasil MGZ_ , my books, some dice bags, and my zines. I will also have my editorial copy of the _**Mystery Box**_. I am so, so close to being done with the text, layout, and design. Here is an excerpt from the _Trailboss_ booklet. ## Monsters Close your eyes and let your mind wander an strange, yet familiar world for a few minutes. You find yourself walking in the humid undergrowth of a forest. Ferns mostly. Not much else can find purchase beneath these trees. The trees. So wide a two lane road could be carved through them and still have space. So tall you can’t see the top of them when you look up. And while you’re looking up is when you hear the first howl. It’s distant and not quite right. There is an urgency to it. A hunger implicit in it as it echoes through the trees. So you run. Run away from it, because you can hear heavy movement coming your way. Your lungs burn. The acid builds in your legs. The bile in your throat. And still it gets closer. You risk a glance over your shoulder and see not one but many of what hunts you. Not wolves. Not men either. Hunger is what hunts you. Nine feet or more of muscle and fur. Foam and spit fly from yellow fangs. Breath that smells of rot and claws that smell of fresh turned earth. You turn in your terror and strike your head on a branch. Then there is only darkness. Darkness and the distant sounds of a person being eaten alive. The darkness slowly dissipates. It is like when blinking away the sleep gunk from your eyes. You can still hear the horrible noise of someone being eaten alive, but it is distant. Like the noise you hear in a dream that you swear was real. Instead, you find yourself sitting crouched behind an ancient slab of stone. Comfortable in this darkness. In this place. The moon is high, but veiled in clouds, giving you only glimpses of cemetery you find yourself in. Further down the hill you see two figures in grey. It isn’t often a bounty comes across your path out here in the boonies. You’re not fool enough to let superstitions keep you from collecting. Not at that price. The townsfolk won’t come out here at night. They say an old, dead king keeps his court here. He rises at night and judges the living and the dead. Binding them to eternal service or some other bullshit. You know it is bullshit because you keep your stash here. Day and night, nothing has ever come out of the ground. Superstitions have their uses. You lose site of your quarry then, just for a moment. Then there is a flash a green behind a mausoleum and some shouting. Must be other hunters. Time to make your move. Around a few tombstones and monuments the scene comes into view. The two in grey are surrounded by, well, that damn king and his court. Got to be at least twenty rotting corpses trying to get at them. Not your monkey, not your circus. You turn to run and suddenly trip and fall. Your right ankle is caught fast. A rotting hand has it caught tight, crushing the bone. Gritting your teeth, you pull your blade to cut it off, when three more hands burst through the ground to hold your down. Strain and squirm as you might, you can’t break free. You are held tight. And out of the corner of your eye you see, something. A shape is emerging from the fog, dragging something heavy. Step-by-step, it moves your way. As it get closer you make out the corpse of Ivan, whom you strangled last season. A rotting rictus grin. You try to scream, but the hand holding your head still for his axe is covering your mouth. A deep, bowel emptying chuckle echoes in your ears and you close your eyes tight. When you open them again, the smell of rot and shit still fills your nostrils. It is soon overwhelmed with the scent of cigar smoke, leather, and newsprint. The light that hits your eyes is blinding at first, but soon shapes being to resolve and you find yourself in an opulent office. You sit at a desk of glass and black wood standing on curved U pedestal legs. The lamp that sits on the desk is stained glass, depicting a scene from the Testament. A scene that is mirrored by a massive mural on the walls, which is only broken up by floor to ceiling windows. About the room are giant vases on pedestals, evoking the ancient Ulfaree style while recalling a modern sensibility. They are paired with plush brown leather chairs that sport bright white piping. And at the center of the room is an ornate wooden table, on which sits a silver tea service and jade chess set arrayed in the final stages of a game. You turn to look out the enormous window behind you and see that you are high up in a towering building looking out on a city of skyscrapers. Sleek, curving cement and steel structures reach for the twin suns in the sky, just breaking the horizon of the trees of the Green Sea outside the city limits. In the air, great frigates move slowly between the buildings, casting shadows on the busy streets below. An explosion in the distance that you feel in your bones shakes you from your revery. Looking about confused, you hear a sultry voice from behind purr, “This is what you agreed to. Don’t be so surprised.” You turn to see a stunningly beautiful figure sitting in one of the chairs across from your desk. Too beautiful to be human. Something otherworldly and terrifying. It smiles at you, and you look down, seeing a contract with your signature on it. If only you knew it’s name. If only you hadn’t been desperate. If only you hadn’t taken this deal. Maybe then the city wouldn’t have to die like this. * * * ## Weekly Roundup A the so much writing, an odd location, rational discussion on a bubble, and the countdown begins. ### My Work Other than the writing, writing, writing I have been doing, I have been finalizing the designs for the paintings needed for the Mystery Box. Some of them are small, like the one below. Others are more involved watercolor cover pieces or the box cover, which I am still working out how to do. It all comes down to how well the cardboard takes the ink. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

YouTube video by WR C

ALT: a car is on fire in the middle of a street .

YouTube video by Luis Serrano

YouTube video by 福与花はむ