All flesh must be eaten pdf free download

Guidelines for Zombie Masters for long-term Deadworld campaigning, including the psychological and technological effects of society's collapse. Details on a tiny community of survivors holed up in an isolated area. Eight new Deadworlds set many years after The Rise. Score: 3. Ever needed a new party fast since zombies munched down on the old one? Ever needed instant characters for a pick-up game, because no one wanted to bother with character generation?

Eden Studios has the book for you! This supplement for the All Flesh Must Be Eaten RPG contains: More than 35 new Archetypes to throw into the zombie survival horror meat grinder, each including personality, quote, gear, and full game stats, as well as several new Qualities, Drawbacks, and pieces of equipment for Cast Members.

Score: 4. All Flesh Must Be Eaten is a complete roleplaying game. In it, you will find: Eleven different Deadworld settings allowing customization of the storyline. A comprehensive zombie creation system to surprise and alarm players. A list of equipment crucial to surviving a world of shambling horrors. Detailed character creation rules for Norms, Survivors, and the Inspired.

A full exposition of the Unisystem game rules, suitable for any game in any time period. Features: Expanded rules for high-flying, bone-crunching wrestling action, including how to use Heat to pull off dramatic turn of events; Zombie Cast Member creation for wrestling mayhem; New Character Types and zombie aspects to drop kick any face or heel; backgrounds on four different styles of wrestling and the weapons you can but aren't supposed to use in the ring; details on combining different wrestling styles; Deadworlds featuring different wrestling styles and special Archetypes for each; and more!

Your dog barks wildly, frenzied by the smell. You awaken from a restless sleep, look out your window and see staggering corpses on the move. You are halfway down the stairs when you hear footsteps on the porch. You run into the living room and pry open your gun cabinet. As you fumble, the front door collapses from the weight of a pair of rotting corpses. They shamble into the hall, arms outstretched, reaching for you. You unload your shotgun into them.

They fall back. To your horror, they rise. Rick Grimes is on a mission. He's got a long road ahead of him and many obstacles in his way, but he's determined. There's a lot resting on his shoulders. AFMBE Character Sheet Skill points left calculation is now fully integrated to include the 3 point purchase cost for skills beyond level 5!!!

Grunge fonts make me want to die inside, pardon the pun! SITE To ensure the functioning of the site, we use cookies. Originally Posted by Plugsy Looking a various different sheets the way powers and skills are presented varies. Details for the contest, the great prizes, and a place to ask questions may be found in the Storycrafting Announcement thread. Harnmaster character Sheet Really expanded Version of Harnmaster character sheets!

Character Sheet — Druid v3. Please photocopy them and distribute them amongst the players so they may keep track of ammunition for each of their guns or hold these sheets and record the ammo as it is used. Last Database Backup Hey, hope I can answer some of these. Before his death, he had scored 80 kills, making him one of the top aces of the war. Only a ghost out of his past can stop him. When his past comes back to haunt him, he will be destroyed.

Richthofen has no knowledge of this. Under the watchful eye of his older brother, Lothar scored 24 victories in 47 days and was credited with shooting down English ace Albert Ball.

On May 13, , Lothar was badly wounded in a dogfight with a B. Wounded again on March 13, , he crash-landed his Fokker DR. I after being shot down by Australian ace Geoffrey Hughes. In the summer of , Lothar returned to duty and achieved ten more victories by the end of the war. The following day, Lothar was seriously wounded for the third time when another Sopwith Camel shot down his Fokker D. VII over the Somme. Lothar served in the Jasta 11 and KG 4 units during his war career.

He scored 40 kills by the end of the war. We shall be victorious. Despite a congenital defect that left him virtually blind in his left eye, the Royal Flying Corps accepted Mannock in In April, he was assigned to 40 Squadron.

To the other flying officers, he seemed aloof and perhaps overly cautious in the air. It was not until a month later that he scored his first victory by flaming an enemy balloon. Mannock never achieved the public notoriety of Albert Ball, but he was revered by his men and proved to be one of the greatest flight leaders of the war. Often physically ill before going on patrol, Mannock routinely shared victories with other pilots or did not bother submitting claims for enemy aircraft that he had downed in combat.

Mannock served in the 40th, 74th, and 85th units. Before his death, he had scored 61 kills. The number of kills are not important, the kills are. His body was never found. Raymond-Barker served in the 3rd, 6th, 11th, 16th, and 48th units during his career. Before his death, he had scored 6 kills. He is a revenant. See p. In October , he was aboard a B bomber that crashed in the Pacific Ocean while on a secret mission to New Guinea.

Rickenbacker served in the 94th Aero unit during WWI. We need to get these planes in the air! As a boy growing up in the foothills of the Vosges, he was fascinated by stories of men and their flying machines. Yet when he was conscripted, he refused to serve in the French Air Service, choosing instead to go to the trenches.

By early , he had changed his mind and began his flight training in a Penguin at Saint-Cyr. Displaying an inherent talent for flying, he was soon serving with Escadrille C47, flying an unarmed Caudron on reconnaissance missions over the lines.

After more than hours of flight time, Fonck was assigned to Spa VII, he developed a reputation for studying the tactics of his opponents and conserving ammunition during a dogfight. On two separate occasions, he shot down six enemy aircraft in one day.

As his fame grew, so did his ego. By the end of the war, he had scored 75 kills, making him one of the top aces of the war. But, as we ran through the swamp, pulling our legs free of the sucking murk, we heard them behind us.

I did not see what they did to Patrick and Michael. I know what they did, I have seen it before, but I did not watch them do it to my brothers. I only crossed myself and kept running, the doctor and the Englishman close behind me. The Englishman says that if we make it to the beach, a boat waits to take us past the barricade. Is it foolish hope or simple desperation that causes me to follow him? I have heard of people in coastal towns trying to sail away from Erin, only to be sunk by English cannonballs or gunned down by soldiers in lifeboats.

Why should our boat be any different? The forest. Praise God, only a half-mile or so before we reach the sand. I can barely run. I let my younger brothers have what little meat I could find, and God forgive me, but I regret it. The meat did little to help them outrun the creatures. My legs burn. The doctor stumbles behind me, but the Englishman runs on, despite his doughy frame.

He says he was sent here to assess the situation, to make an accounting of the damage the blight was doing to the potato crops, and simply became trapped inland. Bile rises in my throat when I realize that my brothers are dead while this bastard lives. The last hill.

I cough, my breath hot and painful in my chest, but I make it to the top and look down at the beach. Off the coast, I see a man standing in a small boat waving a lantern, calling loudly toward the beach. I could swim to that boat without blinking, even in my weakened state. I could, if not for the shambling bodies on the beach. There must be dozens of them, shuffling back and forth, staring at the light. History In , a potato blight swept across Ireland. Entire crops were lost, covered in oozing, black rot.

The famine was the first of the troubles to stem from this blight. Deprived of their key source of sustenance, the Irish took what they could from the land around them, hunting game and farming vegetables in small plots. The blight, while it infected the potatoes crops most severely, seeped into everything. Even livestock took on strange, rotted taste. Thousands died of malnutrition and were buried in shallow graves, often without coffins, because any available funds had to go to purchase food rather than lumber.

Many of these immigrants died en route, but they were truly the lucky ones. The very soil of the Emerald Isle had become blighted, and her dead do not rest easy. The first of the zombies appeared in the early months of The infection began in the interior of the island, near Meath, but spread quickly throughout Ireland. Fresh graves opened to reveal the bodies of the recently dead, their muscles atrophied, and their mouths plastered with foul-smelling blood.

These zombies wasted no time in hunting down the living, tearing them open and feasting on their innards. They spoke of the disgusting lip-smacking sound the creatures made before they attacked and stated that no one, not even the dead interred on consecrated ground, was safe. Poets and songwriters waxed philosophical about the causes of the blight.

Some even looked for older causes, stating that the Fair Folk of the isles were enraged at some trans- gression and wished their revenge. The legends grew with the telling, and soon travelers in Dublin were hearing outlandish tales of vast armies of the undead commanded by the Devil himself, as well as comparatively reasonable tales of English landowners poisoning Irish farmers and leaving them mad, bloodied and hungry.

Whatever version s the Dubliners heard, though, they tended to disbelieve them. The Irish had more important things to worry about than stories about zombies. Soon, however, the citizens of Dublin learned the truth. On February 3rd, , the zombies attacked Dublin. Several outlying villages had already fallen entirely, and their inhabitants fled to the city. The undead horrors attacked and feasted upon the Dubliners unchecked for a full 18 hours, before a young man inadvertently drove them away by setting a fire.

The blaze repelled the zombies, true, but it also all but leveled the city of Dublin. The survivors took, as their first task, burying the dead of the attack in the outlying soil. This, as would become painfully evident, was a mistake. Within a day, the dead of Dublin rose, hungry for the flesh of the considerate folks who had interred them. At the same time, the bodies lying in the ashes of Dublin rose and began searching for the living, as the fire that consumed the city seldom burned hot enough to completely destroy a corpse.

Many of these creatures searched blindly, of course, their eyes and lips burned away in the fire. They hunted just the same, though, and their numbers grew daily.

The blight was spreading. The British government, which had been slowly evaluating the situation, weighed its options and decided against a military invasion of Ireland. The stories were far-fetched, and after all, the blight was present in mainland Europe, but no one there had seen walking corpses. Perhaps the Irish were rebelling.

If so, were they within their rights to do so? In , however, financial crises in England severely cut back the amount of aid the British government could offer.

At about that time, the scouts returned and confirmed the tales of zombies and carnage. A ship from Ireland pulled into the docks carrying refugees from the Dublin fire. Several of these people fled from the dock, carrying a heavy chest. The London police apprehended them the next evening in a cemetery. The chest was full of black, slimy earth, the blighted soil of Ireland. They were emptying it into fresh graves.

Who were these people, and why were they attempting to raise the dead? The world may never know. Of the three men apprehended, one died resisting arrest and the other two hanged themselves in their cells the following morning.

None of them were ever identified, though the English police suspect they were revolutionaries attempting to enact revenge on England or cultists attempting to bring about the end of the world. Regardless, the incident showed the British government that containment was the only safe course of action.

All immigration from Ireland ceased, and the Royal Navy ringed the island, and sank any ship or boat sailing from an Irish port or beach. Until a cure for the blight could be found or until sufficient military aid was forthcoming, Parliament decreed, no one was to enter or leave the blighted isle. That was two years ago, and that was the last anyone in Ireland heard. Any ship sailing from Ireland is sunk, and any small craft fired upon until all aboard stop moving.

The United States, France, and several other countries have publicly offered on numerous occasions to lend troops to the British government and attempt to rescue the survivors of Ireland, but no action has yet been undertaken. There are several reasons for this reticence. First, while the governments of the world know what is happening in Ireland, the citizenry at large believes that the island has fallen to disease, perhaps an infectious one.

Those in power are thus faced with the choice of ordering their forces into a place laden with disease which is very different than ordering them into battle or explaining to the world that Ireland is overrun with zombies. Neither option is palatable. Second, the governments of the world are not convinced that the problem cannot spread beyond Ireland.

Something intrinsic to the soil of Ireland seems to make the nightmarish reanimation of the dead possible. And, more importantly, could it be transplanted? A bit of mud on the boot of an American soldier might spread the rot across the New World, and an outbreak in the United States would be impossible to contain. If the infection leaves Ireland, it could spell the end of civilization. The British government recognizes this, and thus the offers of help from other countries are gratefully acknowledged, but never accepted.

The other governments of the world realize the stakes, and know when they extend their offers of help that the British government will decline. Finally, the British are uncomfortable with the notion of entering Ireland because they are afraid that they caused the blight somehow. The horrible truth is that if enough time passes, every single human being in Ireland will die, and eventually the zombies will therefore starve to death.

In the two years the naval blockade has been in place, no one has ever seen a zombie swimming from the shores, and no one on the English coast has seen one of the walking dead emerge from the water. The Irish people realize this truth: famine, disease, and despair rule the Emerald Isle now.

The potato, the staple food source for most of the people in the country, is almost gone and many of the Irish are squeamish about eating potatoes anyway, for fear that they will be zombies before the next sunrise. The walking dead stalk the land in droves, attacking and devouring anyone they meet. The larger cities in Ireland have been completely overrun.

Dublin, as mentioned, burned to the ground, and similar attempts to fend off the zombies in other cities have led to similar disasters. In addition to zombies, nomadic bands of people wander the isle taking what sustenance they can from the land, and whatever they can steal from their fellow Irish.

Anarchy has set in almost completely, and the remaining settlements had best be strong. Some villages are better off than others, though. The famine, however, keeps them from becoming true safe havens. Priests enjoy a sort of carte blance, however. Because they usually live in close proximity to graveyards, many men of the cloth have perished since the dead began walking. As such, the Irish find themselves without anyone to say Mass, baptize their children, or perform last rites for their dead.

While to our modern sensibilities this might seem a somewhat frivolous concern, to the citizens of the blighted isle, Hell is a daily reality. They jump at any chance to redeem their souls.

This respect for clergy has, in turn, encouraged dishonest folks who can recite the Latin Mass from memory to pose as priests. The zombies of the blighted isle rise when a dead body is buried in the soil. The very earth of Ireland is tainted now. The only variable is how quickly the body rises. If a person falls or is buried in an area heavily saturated by the blight such as a field where potatoes were grown , the corpse can become a zombie in less than an hour.

In hard, dry ground or on a beach, it can take days. When a zombie rises, the flesh at the back of the throat and in the mouth rots away until the openings to the jugular vein and the carotid artery are exposed. This odor is pungent enough to reduce people to nausea. Stopping to retch, of course, just gives the zombies an opportunity to attack.

The Irish zombies attack any living mammal they find and attempt to tear open their stomachs to feast on their internal organs. Why exactly they do not 23 The Blight Isle 8 consume muscle tissue is a mystery to the citizens of Ireland those few who give the matter any thought at all. In fact, the zombies need the spores of the blight to survive, and those spores currently saturate the air, water, and soil of Ireland. Breathing, eating or drinking fills a living body with the spores, which collect in the lungs, kidneys, liver, and stomach.

Note that even the hollowed-out bodies of zombie victims can become zombies, even though their digestive organs are gone. The paste winds up in the heart, where it festers until the zombie has used all of the spores present and must hunt again. Some marksmen, however, have discovered that a clean shot to the heart destroys a zombie. Destroying the heart thus destroys the zombie. As stated, burning the zombies also works, but the difficulty of cremating a human corpse usually prohibits this.

The zombies do fear fire, however, and a torch is an effective means of keeping them at bay. Ireland plays host to dogs, cattle, deer, and various other mammals, but human beings seem to be the only ones affected by the blight.

While all manner of theories as to why this is the case have surfaced since the beginning of the blight, the truth is that human beings have a unique body chemistry that allows them to hold large numbers of the spores that allow for zombies. Zombies will happily eat other living mammals if they can catch them, but animals can usually smell the zombies a mile off and flee.

Wise people, therefore, keep dogs and cats around, as these animals can sense the zombies long before humans can. Bringing the full power of the Church to bear, Pope Pius IX sends a small army of soldiers, doctors, and missionaries with food and other supplies to Ireland.

Flanked by Italian ships, the Vatican representatives are deposited on the Irish shores without incident, and make their way into the country. The Cast is composed of members of this regiment, and can take any of a number of roles.

Doctors and soldiers are obvious choices, but what about a wideeyed volunteer who only knows that a disease is sweeping the nation? Likewise, consider a criminal who steals aboard one of the Vatican ships believing it to be bound for England.

In addition, a number of occult experts are certain to be among the representatives, and some of them could easily be Inspired. Indeed, the soldiers have orders to protect these priests at all costs, even to the exclusion of the folks on the island they are trying to save.

This may seem harsh, but the Church wishes to understand the full theological ramifications of the events in Ireland, and that means that someone qualified to report on them must escape. As the zombie problem becomes evident which takes all of ten minutes , a new wrinkle is added — destroy the zombies and prevent new ones from rising.

This is, of course, easier said than done, and not just because of the numbers of walking dead on the isle. The Vatican envoys are reluctant to desecrate dead bodies before interring them, even though some desecration destroying the heart would prevent the body from rising. Burning bodies is a possibility, but it takes a great deal of fuel and time to cremate a human corpse.

The problem is that although the Royal Navy allowed the Vatican ships to land, they do not intend to let them past the blockade again. If the Cast Members made prior arrangements with sailors on the English ships, they stand a chance of escape.

Otherwise, it might be a long swim home. Race for the Beach The Cast Members have learned of a boat waiting off the western coast. This small craft, piloted by an English sailor, is meant to take one particular Cast Member or even a Supporting Cast Member , an Englishman, back to the safety of a waiting vessel.

This person, however, needs help to reach the coast. This requires fleeing from their village and braving the wilds of Ireland, perhaps running through a peat bog or across open ground where zombies can easily spot them.

Once the Cast arrives at the beach, they find that dozens of zombies shuffle along the sands, fixated on the movement of the water, but unwilling to wade out into it.

The Cast must force its way through the teeming horde, swim out to the boat, and convince the sailor there to take them all back to the English vessel.

Well, there are other options, of course. One bullet to the back turns a Cast Member into a quick and easy distraction. Outbreak on the Mainland The Cast Members are soldiers, police, or just concerned citizens in England or on the Continent. Then, crops start failing, covered with thick, black ooze. Representatives from the British government arrive and burn the crops, and then, inexplicably, begun exhuming dead bodies and firing 25 The Blight Isle 8 bullets into their chests.

The good citizens of the area rise up in outrage, and the Cast Members are approached for help by both the government agents who need volunteers to hunt for zombies, of all things and by the locals who want help expelling the blasphemous government agents from the area. If you want this story to have a darker twist, consider having the characters as special soldiers sent to hunt down an Irish family that made it past the blockade and landed in England.

The Cast Members are given strict instructions to shoot the Irish through their hearts and then burn the bodies to cinders. The family, however, contains several children. Can the Cast Members do their duty?

They had better. All members of the family carry the spores of the blight on their clothes and in their bodies.

Simply killing and burying them infects the ground around them, but letting them live allows the blight to take hold and infect any crops the family walks across.

The Cast Members not only have an odious and brutal task ahead of them, but they have no time to dawdle. This is up to the Zombie Master, but the same essential point remains: Yes, it would be more humane, but is there time enough to take the risk?

They might be members of the crew or simply passengers, stuffed into a hold overflowing with Irish citizens all bound for America. Unfortunately, they took the blight with them. The floor of the hold is filthy with mud and human waste within days of leaving port, and this muck acts exactly like the tainted soil of Ireland. The first person to die in the ship rises as a zombie in less than an hour and attacks.

The resulting panic leaves several more dead before the undead creature can be subdued and subsequently throw overboard. This, in turn, creates more of the creatures. Within days, the Cast Members and perhaps a few of the Supporting Cast are the only living people aboard the ship. They must somehow find a way to continue steering the ship to its destination. The hap- 26 8 less mariners might be blown off course by a storm, stay still for days with no wind, run afoul of privateers, or fall prey to scurvy due to inadequate food supply the zombies might provide a food source, if the Cast is truly desperate.

In addition, what happens when the ship finally pulls into New York harbor with a hold full of the walking dead? Perhaps by that time, the zombies will have starved. Blighted Isle zombies do not use weapons, and typically attempt to tackle their victims and then tear open their stomachs to get at the tasty organs. As stated previously, how long this takes depends on how strong the blight is in the area.

An area heavily saturated with blight creates a zombie in D10x5 minutes if the body is buried, and D10x10 minutes if the body is simply left on the ground in a heavily blighted area. In areas where the blight is weak, such as a beach, the process takes D10 days. Character Creation Given the time period of The Blighted Isle, character creation suffers a few restrictions. Most of the archetypes in the core book are inappropriate as written, though soldiers, doctors and priests will make for superb cast choices — just adjust their Skills for the time period!

I could not imagine where a rat like Mousillon got such wretched excuses for swordsmen. Not only were they filthy, emaciated, pallid figures, but also their swordsmanship was even sloppier than their appearance. Even still, there were five of them against no more than Henri and me. They would overwhelm us with their numbers, if we were not careful.

I spared a look towards my brother Musketeer, and grinned. One of the swordsmen batted my blade aside with a clumsy swipe of his rusted rapier. I had little time to reflect on the style or lack thereof shown by these strange swordsmen, as the one I had lunged at, along with two of his fellows, counterattacked with reckless abandon, paying no regard to their own safety. I capitalized on the gaps in their guard as best I could, but to little avail.

They had me cornered — but not trapped. Lucky as I was, there was a taut rope at my shoulder, one end tied to a cleat in the wall, the other leading upward, to where the candle-lit chandelier hung. Rope hissed through the pulley, and I took off from the floor, pulled upwards by the falling weight of the crystal chandelier.

It was a simple matter for me to swing over to land beside my companion. Quickly enough, the three swordsmen I had been fighting were headed towards us.

I made a masterful lunge at the lead swordsman, catching him in mid-charge, sinking several inches of blade into his throat; a killing pass. I withdrew my 28 8 blade and hopped backwards, so as not to dirty my clothes with his blood. Yet, the man seemed not to notice that his jugular had just been perforated, and pressed his attack! Shocked, I gave several feet of ground, finding myself shoulder to shoulder with Henri. As adventurers would recklessly find out, the man in the Bastille was no less than Cardinal de Richelieu — a fact made even more shocking by the fact that the Cardinal had been declared dead nearly twenty years earlier.

Yet, for all his worldly power, Richelieu knew that he was only a man, doomed to die like any other. The Black Cardinal poured years of research and exorbitant amounts of wealth into his secret quest to find a way to cheat death. Finally, through a combination of alchemy and mad sorcery, Richelieu gained the immortality he craved — but at a price. In order to fuel his continued existence, Richelieu had to consume the hearts of the living. It is both a glorious and dangerous time to be alive.

The country is in turmoil, wracked by political intrigue, both outside her borders and within. Louis XIV is King, but in name only. It is the Cardinal de Mazarin, the successor to the deceased Cardinal de Richelieu, who really controls France. There have already been two rebellions against Louis XIV, and rumors of a third are abundant.

Men and women battle for sake of love or power, armed with flashing steel and gossiping tongues. Through all this, a handful of brave, foolish men set out to make things right. Rumor had it that there was a man unjustly imprisoned in the Bastille, his very identity concealed by a mask of iron.

Rumors of who this man could be were incredibly varied; some said he was a brilliant writer and satirist, some said he was a nobleman who had somehow angered the young king, while some said that it might have even been an illegitimate heir to the throne.

However, all the stories agreed on one thing: that this man, whoever he was, could do great and wonderful things for France, were he to be freed. No matter how they tried, they could not destroy Richelieu — only contain him. Here, they thought, in some forgotten dungeon, the damned creature would never harm another living being again. They were wrong. Despite twenty years of decomposition, zombie Richelieu made short work of the well-meaning swordsmen who freed him.

The beast first feasted upon those unfortunates locked within the Bastille, spreading a lesser version of its curse to each one it killed. Within hours, a mob of zombified prisoners broke out onto a sleeping Paris. Revitalized by the taste of human flesh, Richelieu found himself able to control these lesser zombies. Reveling in this unnatural power, he guided his new army out into the streets. Armed with whatever cast-off weapons they could find, the zombies rampaged through the streets of Paris, causing many of the living to think it was another revolt, the beginnings of a civil war.

In a way, they were right. Yet, this insurrection had reasons far beyond conflicting political philosophies. Story Ideas To Arms! There are still quite a few living people in the city, holed up fearfully behind makeshift barricades and boarded up doors. Paris is one of the most populous cities in the world; it will take at least a few more days before the last Parisian is un dead.

This is a mixed blessing. On the positive side if one can really look at it that way this buys time before the rest of France is overrun. However, by the time the zombies do start leaving Paris, they will number in the thousands, easily overwhelming whatever resistance they might face. There is little in the way of organized resistance; the nobles and other authorities lucky enough to be outside of Paris think it is just another revolt, and retreat to their fortified castles and manors accordingly.

Even still, this is not to say that Paris is without hope: there are two different bastions of survivors holding out against the undead scourge, ready to sell their lives dearly for King and Country, should it be required of them.

This has allowed them to organize against the threat posed by their former commander, taking up residence in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Unfortunately, their numbers are limited. They lack the manpower necessary to make a significant difference against the undead. Meanwhile, across Paris, the Musketeers have barricaded themselves within the Louver Palace, swords at the ready. It did not take them long to find out that a pass through the heart will put a zombie down permanently.

So far, they have managed to hold off the undead army, but they cannot hold out indefinitely. The Musketeers have sent out a few brave volunteers to look for survivors, or to find help. None have returned. They simply lack the numbers of men needed to do so. To do so would require both reconciliation between the two rival factions, and a steady line of communication through the Zombie-ridden city; neither will be an easy task.

And so, the fate of Paris, the fate of France, and perhaps even the fate of the entire world now rests on the shoulders of a handful of brave, unfortunate men. Tally Ho! Here, the players take the roles of a motley collection of dashing, brave swordsmen; the sort of men and women that Alexandre Dumas would write about. In order to create characters appropriate to the setting, simply use the guidelines from the Dead at Deadworld, with the exception that the Guns Skill is available.

It should be noted that firearms in are heavy, expensive, and unreliable affairs, not to mention the decided lack of style. Further adventures from this time period may be supplemented with Arrgh! Thar be Zombies! Away from Paris on urgent royal business, the characters were lucky enough to be outside of the city when Richelieu and his minions broke out of the Bastille. If there was ever a time for heroes, it is now. Paris herself needs them!

With steel in their hands and courage in their hearts, the characters must fight their way into the city in order to find their loved ones. Rapiers are to clash dramatically against each 30 8 other, chandeliers are to be dropped on unsuspecting villainy, and swinging across large gaps on a rope or the aforementioned chandelier is an entirely acceptable mode of transportation.

The scenario is open ended. Should the heroes survive for long within the city, they might find one or perhaps both of the bastions of human resistance, or maybe even find themselves confronting zombie Richelieu himself. Any way things play out, the fate of France hinges upon the actions of the players. Will these brave heroes be the ones to save Paris?

Or, will they die valiantly, defending their King to their last breath? Only their bravery and skill shall decide! For every day that Zombie Richelieu goes without feeding, his Intelligence decreases by one.

No wretched abomination shall lay a rotted finger upon your lovely skin — not in my presence! Take heart in knowing that the finest swordsman in all of Gascony stands between you and whatever beasts might dare show themselves! At least, not in name. Not yet. I was on my way to Paris to receive my commission when the dead began to rise from their graves to menace the living. Yet, there is still hope!

Let me tell you something, my dove; even the dead may be slain a second time by a man with enough skill — a few inches of steel through the heart is all it takes. These beasts can, and will, be stopped. Our France is full of skilled men, of brave men, heroes who can, and will, take up the sword in defense of King and Country.

Men like me. You honor my father by taking me for your wife; you chose me over thousands of other women in your kingdom, and I wish to repay you. His armies marched against the enemies of God, and were victorious.

Do go on. He soon grew tired of his trophies and treasures, so he turned towards conquests of the heart. However, the Sultan was cruel, and put thousands of innocent women and children to the sword in his wars. The Sultan became angry, and instructed his Vizier to begin forc- 33 ing fathers to marry their daughters to the ruler. May I finish before retiring? He instructed his daughter to prepare for marriage. In accordance with law, she went into the desert. There, she discovered a ring half-buried in the sands.

She picked it up and tried to rub it clean. As she did so, a Jinni appeared. Make me an army that can defeat him, so that I do not live out my days in sorrow and servitude. Soon after, hundreds of soldiers appeared, awaiting her command. She bade them march, and they entered the city that very night. Then, destroy the kingdom, person by person. The air very still. A knock at the door broke the mood. While Europe languished in the Dark Ages, the empire ruled by the fifth Abbasid Caliph Harun al-Rashid stood as a testament to learning, knowledge, and law.

Comprised of various Sultanates and Emirates, the Empire would stand for another four hundred years before showing signs of fracture. This was the time of the Thousand and One Nights, when thinly-veiled women filled harems, warriors with curved swords carved glory for themselves and God, and jinni still roamed the untamed wilds of the deserts. Baghdad and Mecca served as the rallying points of conquest, and the Sultans spread the word of their religion into the farthest reaches of the known world.

Naturally, the fledgling empire and its newly conquered inhabitants only partially absorbed their new religion and culture, and in many places more Chapter Four ancient, tribal customs flourished while Islam was only practiced by and around government officials.

In Amman, to the west of the newly-appointed capital of Baghdad, Sultan Ibn Madhi retired after several successful campaigns against tribes to the north, including an assault that brought him within a hundred miles of Constantinople.