So, where is AoB at? It's currently in the editing process. There might be a second, small rewrite, though I'm extremely confident that it won't be large. It might be retitled "Before Iron". But, despite the delays, the game's looking good and I'm crossing my fingers for early next year.
But that's not what's cool. What's cool is that my good friend and playtester, Steven, has his group frothing at the mouth over playing a short campaign of AoB in their Summer of Gaming Exploration. He'd already seen the rules. So I emailed Greg and asked him if I could have him make some actual play reports, have me translate them, and post them on my blog. Greg said that sounded rad, so here I am.
The first session of the Montreal group isn't until tomorrow. They're slated for three or four sessions, though that might change. Friday morning, I'll have more mundane character descriptions and the actual play notes, edited to exclude a few mechanical bits which are still subject to change. But for now, here's Steven's prelude hymn to his heroes.
Sing to me, O Muse, of those great heroes of Eilesium, those men of legend, those paragons of the Greeks. Many were their laughters and many their woes; though they suffered much, remember to me their glories, which were greater by far. Mighty Abrax, proud son of Ares, unbested in battle; skillful Theron, whose craft endeared him to the gods as much as his honesty plagued them; and noble Herodion, whose justice was a salve to his people, who stood unflinching before tyrants. Tell me now of the years before their fame, when the shining walls of Eilesium stood strong against the wilderness, and the black sore of tyranny had not yet begun to ooze its vile stain over that great city....
So now a great wailing and weeping was heard throughout the streets of Eilesium; men shore their hairs, and women rent their garments. Weep, o you Greeks, for your only prince has fallen! See how the tears course down the cheeks of King Alexandros, that aging progenitor, as he crouches near the sallow body of young Kleitos, beloved of all. Though the priests and priestesses labored for seven days and nights, the asp's poison was too great for the youth; his sixteenth nameday scarcely past, that fateful hunt abruptly ended. So great was Kleitos' speed in pursuit of the silver-horned buck, so great was his skill that none dared fear, but all held proud Elpis, that spirit of hope, close in their breasts. Woe to incautious youths, and ware the unwary Greek! There, in the crystal pool, knelt the buck, nursing its limp; and there, in the underbrush lurked the cruel viper, unseen. A cry! The hunting party rejoices, and surges forward- but where now the deer? All that remains is the boy, blue of face, and the wails of an elderly father.
The pyre's logs consume the fire, and red-eyed Alexandros raises his voice, once stout from seafaring, now frail with age and sorrow; “Tomorrow, citizens of Eilesium, let us celebrate the life of this magnificent prince of our people. I decree a day of games in his honor, with much glory to the victors."