d20 Old Kingdom Games The Nightmare War.pdf

CONTENTS

1 2 3 4 5

TheVeilRemoved

100

101

102

103

104

105

106

107

108

109

112

114

116

118

120

122

Credits

Opening fiction: South Street

How to use this book

Missivesinthedark

Anewdirective

TheScarboroughjournal

AcceptDeathorSufferMadness

Part One: Flight from the darkness

Antagonists&Allies

ReadThisandsaveyourself

ThePhages

Archphage

LetterfromRoland

Havocphage

Weknowwhat’shappeningtoyou

Necrophage

TheWorldTodaytranscript

Shadowphage

KnowTheSymptomsposter

Phagespecialattacks&Qualities

PresidentialElection2036

Phagefeats

Para-RealityMagazineexcerpt

Phagediseases

Darkerthannight

Personalities

HellermanBlank

AlexScarborough

AnnissaGold

Part Two: Waking Nightmares

ColleenDawes

Characters

RolandVeraruz

Beforethenightmares

SamuelJeffers

CharactersinTheNightmareWar

NPCClasses

Engram

Butcher

Phobetor

City’sFinest

Psychometabolic

ConspiracyTheorist

Telemechanic

Cyberspook

Vagrant

Doctor

SkillsandFeats

Gonzo

Existingskills

GutterCrawler

Newskills

Hitman

Feats&burdens

Man-on-the-street

Existingfeats

Merc

Newfeats

Professional

Technology

Rent-a-Cop

Gearof 2035

Solider

Weapons

Reference

Armor

Referencemedia

Internetresources

Part Three: Darkness Rising

Terminologysummary

Charactersheet:Neutral

Usingthissection

Charactersheet:Engram

Toolsof War

Charactersheet:Phobetor

Introduction

Charactersheet:Psychometabolic

Typesof game

Charactersheet:Telemechanic

Welcometothenightmare

Charactersheet:Vagrant

Adventuregems

Methodsof war

Tipsforgamesmasters

Open Game Licence

124

TheWakingWorld

Page: 2

CREDITS

1 2 3 4 5

TheNightmareWar

- A Campaign Gems series book.

Development&Direction:

Chris Hill

LeadWriter:

Jason M. Hardy

AdditionalAuthors:

Tiffani Hill

Rob McDonald

J. P. Quinn

Fiction:

Rob McDonald

CoverArt:

Ricky L. Hunter

InteriorArtists:

Gavin Hargest

Chris Hill

Ricky L Hunter

Michael Jaecks

Gifny Richata

Design&Layout:

Old Kingdom Games

Editing:

Old Kingdom Games

Playtesting:

The Old Folks

SpecialThanks:

TheOldFolksthroughtheyears-

Nathan (Mr. Shotgun), James (Safe pair of hands), Neil

(But he’s just misunderstood!), Tom (Birdie!!), Gareth (charge!), Other

Gareth (FDK). Tiff (No ireballs here), Lee (No thieves here), Judith

(Was that the Tarasque?), Vaughan (Anyone have the carpentry

skill?), Rich (We’ve just got to keep ahead of the Legionnaire), Mark

(Kill it!), John (Kender?) and Mike (What we need is a really big

cake!).

Wanna play?

TheReader-

To you, thank you for taking the time to have a look at our

irst release. Now you are ready - THEY are coming!

withoutthewrittenpermissionof OldKingdomGames.Thiswebsiteispublishedunderthetermsof theOpenGameLicenseand

thed20Systemlicense.ExceptingProductIdentityandstatedCopyrightsallgamemechanicsandtablesarepresentedasOpenGame

Content.ThefollowingitemsaredesignedasProductIdentity:Art,characters,names,theOldKingdomGameslogo,theCampaign

the‘d20System’logoaretrademarksof Wizardsof theCoast,Inc.andareusedaccordingtothetermsof thed20SystemLicense

version6.0.Acopyof thisLicensecanbefoundatwww.wizards.com/d20.Wizardsof theCoastisatrademarkof Wizardsof the

Coast,Inc.intheUnitedStatesandothercountriesandisusedwithpermission.

Page: 3

Fiction: South Street

SOUTH STREET

by Rob McDonald

South Street on Saturday nights was thick with every color, lavor and odor of

urbanhumanity–pretentiousAbercrombians,ultra-gothzombs,tattooedGen-Edge

kids, Society Hill couples in tailored outits, aerheads and their poorly concealed, chop-

shopintegratedcyberwaregear,elderlyhippiesandpunks,thirty-somethingeco-nerds

in soy-silk pants… With the street closed to motor trafic, the disparate lesh poured

in,collided,mixed,likeparadesmeetinghead-on,astheymadetheirwaystothesundry

bars, clubs and shops that cloned one another over ive blocks.

They streamed by Ursula oblivious or indifferent, which suited her ine. Just ine.

Crowdsmeantonlytwothings–moneyorcover.Tonightitwasmoney.

Shehadclaimedaspotofbrickwallafewyardsfromanoutdoorcafé,justoutside

the blue halogen circle thrown by the nearest street lamp. She stood lamingo-like, her

shouldersandonebootsolerestingonthegrungybrick.Withahandinthepocketof

herworncanvastrenchandaslow,calmingdragonhernico-freecigarette,shewasthe

verypictureofnonchalance.

Butpicturesoftendeceive.

Thecafé’ssidewalktablesweresegregatedfromthethrongbyameter-highwrought

ironfenceandafewblandplantingsofgreenery.Agaggleofbuffoonishdebutantes

surroundedthetableclosesttoUrsula,theirfashionablepursesstackedontheground

beneath, out of reach of anyone not of their cabal. Three tables down, stylized tiki

torches lanked the restaurant’s entrance. In keeping with public safety regulations they

were equipped with holo-bulbs that projected images of living ire – an interesting if not

entirely realistic effect. Perhaps the lack of lame was the reason they weren’t secured

tothewalls.

Carefultofaceawayfromthecafé,Ursulareachedoutwithherwill.Thesensationwas

somethingakintostretchingherarm,thoughcenteredbetweenhertemplesandslightly

irritating,likeanitch.Shefelttheclosesttorchwithherphantomlimb,experiencingit

in a way her leshy hands never would - the depth of texture in its tropical wood veneer,

thesubtledistributionofmass,thecoolnessofthehiddencoppertubethathousedthe

wiring, the solidity of its weighted base. Its molecular structure, its essence, was laid

baretoherpsychictouch.Withapinchofforceshepulledatthebulbsocket–witha

pushshebracedthebottomagainstmovement.

Thetorchtoppledontotheclosesttable,spillingdrinksandshatteringthebulbina

lash of orange light and the crack of a gunshot. The panicked diners shrieked, upending

theirplasticpatiochairs,sendinggreaterwavesofconfusionthroughthemob.Soon

Page: 4

Fiction: South Street

everyoneinandaroundthecaféwascompetingforaview,dozensof handlinksand

phonesthrustupwardforabettervantage.

Meanwhile,threedesignerhandbagswerepushingthemselvesslug-likeandunnoticed

throughtheshadowstowardtheborderingfence.Evenempty,anyoneof themmight

supportUrsulaforamonth.

Shewasabouttoretrieveherprizewhenaninebriatedzombploughedintoher.

Angrybutgroggy,heblastedherinsomeunintelligiblesub-tongueof streetEnglish.

“Bang,dez,ain’thipyouaghostlikedat,dez!”Hisskinhadbeenunevenlybleached

andstainedtolooknecrotic,SNiT-like,whilehisteethweretintedochreandhistongue

black–heevenhadhislipscosmeticallycrackedandblistered.Hereeked,likeoldmeat,

probablyoneof thosedeath-scentfetishcolognessoldinspecialtystores.Plantingone

pale,ganglyarmonthewalloverUrsula’sshoulder,heletahalf-lucidstarewanderup

anddownherbody.Thewhitesof hiseyesweredyedasicklyyellow,glintingdullyin

theindirectlight.“Hey,youwannabeanecrophiletonight?”

She never heard the question. Those jaundiced eyes provoked an immediate,

instinctualreaction,aproductof sixyears’hardlivingandharderrunning.Atireiron

wasconcealedinsidehercoat–shecouldfeelitnexttoherpocketedhand.Pushing

herself uprightanddroppingherleg,shegrabbedtherodthroughthepocketlining

anddroveitupintothezomb’sbreadbasket.Hebentintwo,hisfacefallingasherknee

cameupagaintomeetit,splinteringhisnosewithanaudible ph-krupp .Shehadalready

threaded her way into the pulsing crowd before gravity inished its work.

Frommoneytocoversoquickly.

Shestaredoverhershoulderwithoutslowing,bouncingoff anyoneopposingher

vector.Therewerenosignsof pursuit,andnoindicationthezombwasupandabout.

Alright then ,shethought, not a phage. Not a phage. Calm down. You’re all right. Shehadbeen

socarefultonight,takinganewrouteanddoublingbackafewtimes.Hell,shehardly

evercamedownhereanyway.No,of courseitwasn’taphage.

1 2 3 4 5

Damned freak! Howlonguntilshestumbledonanothereasyscorelikethat?Shemight

havebeenabletoholeuptillOctober!Betterstill,shemighthaveboughtherwayout

of Philly,maybeevenallthewaytoL.A.Someoneoncetoldhertherewasadecent

undergroundfornightwalkersthere,evensomeother“mover-shakers”likeher.Imagine

a house full of nightwalkers, an accidental family taking turns on watch, working in

teams,pullingresources,lookingoutforoneanother.Likeitwasafewyearsagowith

NancyandThom,orlaterwithJosh.AndthenDrakeandMinnie.Yeah.Imagine.

Avoicecameoutof nowhere,undeniablydirectedather.“Excuseme,miss?”She

hadletherself getdistractedandbeencaughtbysurprise.Astupidmistakeshehoped

wouldn’tprovetoocostly.Shespun,alreadygrippingthetireiron.

The man was – well, geez, he was a model, or a Greek god, or maybe a half-

rememberedfantasyfromherteens.Mid-twenties,tall,clean-shaven,thebronzeskin

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