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Zeige Ergebnisse für die Tags "'conan'".
2 Ergebnisse gefunden
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Würde das für Midgard zutreffen, was es nicht tut, wäre Midgard ein schlechtes Regelwerk, nichtflüssige RWs sind prinzipiell schlechte RWs und ich halte Rolemaster für ein gutes System. Man muss es nur wollen. Dann mach, denn ich halte es nach Regeln für unmöglich sowas zu machen. http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Scarlet_Citadel And now the king himself stood at bay among the slashed bodies of his housetroops, his back against a heap of dead horses and men. Ophirean knights in gilded mail leaped their horses over mounds of corpses to slash at the solitary figure; squat Shemites with blue-black beards, and dark-faced Kothian knights ringed him on foot. The clangor of steel rose deafeningly; the black-mailed figure of the western king loomed among his swarming foes, dealing blows like a butcher wielding a great cleaver. Riderless horses raced down the field; about his iron-clad feet grew a ring of mangled corpses. His attackers drew back from his desperate savagery, panting and livid. .... Now he grinned bleakly as the kings reined back a safe distance from the grim iron-clad figure looming among the dead. Before the savage blue eyes blazing murderously from beneath the crested, dented helmet, the boldest shrank. Conan's dark scarred face was darker yet with passion; his black armor was hacked to tatters and splashed with blood; his great sword red to the cross-piece. In this stress all the veneer of civilization had faded; it was a barbarian who faced his conquerors. Conan was a Cimmerian by birth, one of those fierce moody hillmen who dwelt in their gloomy, cloudy land in the north. His saga, which had led him to the throne of Aquilonia, was the basis of a whole cycle of hero-tales. So now the kings kept their distance, and Strabonus called on his Shemitish archers to loose their arrows at his foe from a distance; his captains had fallen like ripe grain before the Cimmerian's broadsword, and Strabonus, penurious of his knights as of his coins, was frothing with fury. http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Queen_of_the_Black_Coast The fight on the Argus was short and bloody. The stocky sailors, no match for the tall barbarians, were cut down to a man. Elsewhere the battle had taken a peculiar turn. Conan, on the high-pitched poop, was on a level with the pirate's deck. As the steel prow slashed into the Argus, he braced himself and kept his feet under the shock, casting away his bow. A tall corsair, bounding over the rail, was met in midair by the Cimmerian's great sword, which sheared him cleanly through the torso, so that his body fell one way and his legs another. Then, with a burst of fury that left a heap of mangled corpses along the gunwales, Conan was over the rail and on the deck of the Tigress. In an instant he was the center of a hurricane of stabbing spears and lashing clubs. But he moved in a blinding blur of steel. Spears bent on his armor or swished empty air, and his sword sang its death-song. The fighting-madness of his race was upon him, and with a red mist of unreasoning fury wavering before his blazing eyes, he cleft skulls, smashed breasts, severed limbs, ripped out entrails, and littered the deck like a shambles with a ghastly harvest of brains and blood. Invulnerable in his armor, his back against the mast, he heaped mangled corpses at his feet until his enemies gave back panting in rage and fear. Then as they lifted their spears to cast them, and he tensed himself to leap and die in the midst of them, a shrill cry froze the lifted arms. They stood like statues, the black giants poised for the spearcasts, the mailed swordsman with his dripping blade. http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Sowers_of_Thunder "Aye," grinned Cahal wolfishly, "east to our doom we rode, like men riding blind into the teeth of a storm. We slashed our way through the lands of the Kurds and crossed the Euphrates. Beyond, far to the east, we saw smoke and flame and the wheeling of many vultures, and Renault said the Turkomans fought the Horde. But we met no fugitives and I wondered then--I wonder not now. The slayers rode over them like a wave out of the night and none was left to flee. "Like men riding to death in a dream, we rode into the onrushing storm and the suddenness of its coming was like a thunderbolt. A sudden drum of hoofs over a ridge and they were upon us--hundreds of them, a swarm of outriders scouting ahead of the horde. There was no chance to flee--our men died where they stood." "And the Sieur Renault?" asked the Shaykh. "Dead!" said Cahal. "I saw a curved blade cleave his helmet and his skull." "Allah be merciful and save his soul from the hellfire of unbelievers!" piously exclaimed Suleyman, who had sworn to kill the luckless adventurer on sight. "He took toll before he fell," grimly answered the Gael. "By God, the heathen lay like ripe grain beneath our horses' hoofs before the last man fell. I alone hacked my way through." The Shaykh, grown old in warfare, visualized the scene that lay behind that simple sentence--the swarming, howling, fur-clad horsemen with their barbaric war cries, and Red Cahal riding like a wind of Death through that maelstrom of flashing blades, his sword singing in his hand as horse and rider went down before him. ... Until the red stallion fell dying, Red Cahal fought in the saddle, and then he joined the ring of men on foot. In the berserk fury that gripped him, he felt not the sting of wounds. Time faded in an eternity of plunging bodies and frantic steel; of chaotic, wild figures that smote and died. In a red maze he saw a gold-mailed figure roll under his sword, and knew, in a brief passing flash of triumph, that he had slain Kuran Shah, khan of the horde. And remembering Jerusalem, he ground the dying face under his mailed heel. And the grim fight raged on. Beside Cahal fell the grim Master of the Temple, the Seneschal of Ascalon, the lord of Acre. The thin ring of defenders staggered beneath the repeated charges; blood blinded them, the heat of the sun smote fierce upon them, they were choked with dust and maddened with wounds. Yet with broken swords and notched axes they smote, and against that iron ring Baibars hurled his slayers again and again, and again and again he saw his hordes stagger back broken. pellennor Feldern, Huris Kampf mit den Trollen. Midgard ist für diesen Teil der Skala nicht ausgelegt. Oder die Kämpfe Eomers, Aragorns und Imrahils auf den So verschieden sind die Geschmäcker, mmn steht Howard auf derselben Stufe wie Tolkien, oder kennst du vielleicht nur die "Überarbeitungen" von de Crap und schlimmeres
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"Robert E. Howard's Conan Roleplaying Game" wird per Kickstarter finanziert (Englisch - seit ca.2 Wochen & läuft noch bis 20.März). Es ist schon einiges an Zubehörbänden finanziert worden und die Anlistungslänge der beteiligten Autoren ist schon recht beeindruckend (auch wenn mir die Namen nichts sagen ;-). Am Ende des Projekts wird auch darauf hingewiesen, dass man Kooperationen mit anderen Herausgebern für Übersetzungen plant. Dies ist aber NICHT Bestandteil der laufenden Kickstarterkampagne. In der Kampagne wird auch auf Drivethrurpg-Quickstarterregeln verwiesen -zum Reinschnuppern sicherlich sehr hilfreich, da das Rsp. auf einem eigenständigen Regelsystem basiert (2d20). edit: Autoren & Übersetzung ergänzt
