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REVIEW OF High Medieval
Introduction

The name’s Davenport. I review games.

And let’s face it: what got this whole loony bin of a hobby started was medieval fantasy roleplaying.

Well, sorta.

Looking back on it now, seems like the folks who brought us D&D and the like thought that “medieval” meant the stuff that happened after people took off mammoth skins but before they put on powdered wigs. And they seemed pretty damn fuzzy on that second part.

So, you’d have knights in shining armor creepin’ through Victorian haunted houses, musketless Musketeers scrappin’ with Roman legionnaires, pirates sailin’ the Seven Seas in cannon-free ships to rob Greeks in oversized rowboats... Pretty silly stuff. Fun, maybe, but silly.

And speakin’ of "silly", that’s the first thought that came to mind when I saw the dwarf in a Viking get-up standin’ at my office door the other day.

Except, turns out he wasn’t so silly after all. He says he’s from Morrigan Press to drop off a review copy of High Medieval. Before I can crack wise about hippies in armor, he says the game takes all that D&D stuff and tries to cram it back into the Middle Ages so’s it’ll make some kinda sense – like your typical fantasy dwarf comin’ outta Vikingland, for example.

(‘Course, I still think a dwarf with a horned helmet looks kinda silly, but what do I know?)

Anyway, here’s the review.




Substance

Preface: A Throw of the Runes
High Medieval sets about describing the setting first with game fiction from the perspectives of a warrior fighting goblins, a demonologist preparing a summoning, a sculptor dealing with Church dogma regarding nonhumans, and a northern peasant preparing to defend his village from raiding Thiazi elves. Following these tidbits, a Seelie elf offers a dissertation on the nature of the magic-filled medieval world. This combination of colorful snippets and the view of a non-historical outsider does a fine job of showing how the setting is like yet unlike the Medieval Europe of real-world history.


Chapter One: The Rules
High Medieval uses an early version of the Omni System system, which in turn is based upon the original Talislanta rules. All of which means that all task resolution in the game boils down to rolling a 1d20, adding or subtracting modifiers and referencing the result on the following table:

The Omni Table
Roll Result
0 or less Mishap
1-5 Failure
6-10 Partial Success
11-19 Full Success
20 or more Critical Success

The GM determines the actual results of Mishaps and Critical Successes depending upon the prevailing circumstances and, in the case of Critical Successes, the declared intent of the player. It’s a fantastically unified mechanic, the only drawbacks I see being the relative coarseness of the scale and the lack of an open-ended success and/or failure mechanic. The former means that there are no grades of superior success, while the latter means that any modifier at all will render either a Mishap or a Critical Success impossible, depending upon whether the modifier is negative or positive. The transparency of results makes for an equitable trade-off, however, as does the dramatic tip of the scales toward success with the accompanying chance for “skin-of-your-teeth” victories.

One other benefit of this base mechanic: the effect on multi-actions. While characters get one action per round by default, GMs can allow multiple actions with a cumulative -5 penalty. Given the way the Omni Table works, the increasing threat of a Mishap keeps this freedom in check.

The game uses a straightforward attribute + skill system. The seven main attributes ought to look fairly familiar: Intelligence (INT), Perception (PER), Will (WIL), Charisma (CHA), Strength (STR), Dexterity (DEX), and Constitution (CON). Fans of Talislanta may be surprised to see that these scores are determined randomly by a roll of d20 cross-referenced against a table to product scores ranging from -5 to +5, subject to modification based on the character’s social class and culture. Players can also choose to increase negative scores by decreasing positive scores, but these changes must be toward the average score of 0 – negative scores may not be lowered and positive scores may not be raised.

Characters also have six additional attributes determined not by roll or player choice (directly, at least), but rather by social class, culture, and certain Talents (see below). These are Speed Rating (SPD), Combat Rating (CR), Magic Rating (MR), Nobility (NBL), Piety (PTY), and Renown (REN). Now, most of these I can accept being completely independent from the aforementioned main attributes, but SPD and (especially) CR? That grates a bit, as it suggests no natural ability in quickness and coordination as they relate to combat.

If High Medieval takes a step forward from Talislanta by offering actual character creation rules, it takes a step backward in game design by returning to classes and levels. To be fair, though, the game takes the unusual approach of making the classes in question actual social classes. More on that in just a moment.



Chapter Two: The World

The point of the setting is that it is Medieval Europe, albeit with the trappings of high fantasy; hence, the bulk of this chapter concerns itself with the societal, political, religious, and geographic realities of the time period. I’m no more an expert on these subjects than your average gamer but less likely to claim otherwise, so I won’t bore you with these details and my insights on them. I can tell you that the chapter appears to cover the subjects fairly thoroughly, my only mild complaint being the relative lack of information on daily life – especially that of the peasantry.

Of course, nobody’s going to buy this book for a history lesson, and I doubt many will buy it to play a “mundane” Medieval European campaign. That makes the incorporation of fantastic elements the main subject of interest, and overall, I really like the game’s approach.

Generally, the setting places “traditional” D&D-style fantasy races in countries giving rise to their folkloric inspirations, or at least ones in which they seem to fit the best. Hence, the Seelie and Unseelie (light and dark elves) reside in the British Isles – especially Ireland, in the case of the former – as do the Cenedl (halflings). The barbaric Thiazi elves live in Scandinavia, as do the Norse-like Varangar (dwarves). The Tauren (minotaurs) originally hail from Crete but have taken to the sea as ferocious pirates. The Unholy, by contrast – the goblins, ogres, trolls, and the like – are pretty much everywhere, albeit not in civilized areas for obvious reasons. The Hansa (gnomes) are equally widespread, but for the opposite reason: rather than being the steampunkish inventors into which they’ve slowly evolved in many fantasy RPG settings, they are master merchants and traders with their own guild, the Hanseatic League.

Perhaps the most surprising break with “traditional” high fantasy falls under the religious beliefs of these races: the most humanlike of them – the dwarves, gnomes, and halflings – are predominantly Christian. The Seelie remain decidedly pagan, however, and hence are despised by the Church. (I’ll let you figure out for yourself how the Church feels about the Unholy.)

And speaking of the Church, their attitude towards magic forms the second major confluence of high fantasy and the real-world Middle Ages. The Church itself practices Divine magic, tolerates natural magic – the earth-based magic of hedge magicians and witches – and, unsurprisingly, crushes demonic magic at every turn. There’s a lot more to this, but that can wait until the discussion of the magic chapter below.

The setting brings up understandable comparisons to Ars Magica; however, the resemblance proves extremely superficial beyond the shared medieval milieu. While Ars Magica postulates a medieval era in which the myths of that time are real, High Medieval takes the echoes of those myths in the form of high fantasy tropes and re-integrates them into the time period that birthed them. In the former, you have the Seelie Court as it might have been had peasant beliefs of the time been true; in the latter, you have modern high fantasy elves taking on the Seelie Court role. In the former, gnomes are mysterious creatures living deep underground; in the latter, they’re running the shop just down the way. The respective results are as distinct from each other as Grimm’s Fairy Tales are from Dungeons & Dragons .



Chapter Two: Societal Class*

(*Yes, there are two “Chapter Twos”. I’ll get to the proofing in a bit…)

As previously mentioned, High Medieval takes “class” quite literally, with the “classes” being the social classes of Outcast, Commoner, Freeman, Lesser Noble, and Greater Noble. Not unlike the familiar classes of D&D, each social class has its list of preferred skills which cost half as much to purchase as do non-class skills. Social classes also provide bonuses and penalties to primary attributes, set the base for secondary attributes, and determine starting languages, starting skill points and skill points per level, and starting equipment. While it might seem tempting for powergamers to jump right to the wealth and power offered by the Greater Noble class, the chapter points out that such rank has its limitations as well as its privileges – after all, such noteworthy people can’t always just wander off at a whim to go adventuring. (And besides, Greater Nobles have crappy Constitutions, apparently.)

Players also select cultural templates – ethnicity and race – to complete the basic abilities of their characters:

British French German Irish Italian Jewish Moor
Norman Occitan Saracen Scandinavian Scottish, Gaelic Slavic Spanish
Welsh Cenedl (halfling) Hansa (gnome) Elven, Sidhe Elven, Thiazzi Tauren (minotaur) Varangar (dwarf)

Note that this is where the selection of a nonhuman race comes in, if the player is so inclined.

This selection adds further preferred skills, attribute modifiers, and starting languages, as well as social class restrictions in certain cases. Some of the latter make sense; all Tauren must be Outcasts, for example. Others, however, do not; e.g., I fail to see why all characters hailing from Scandinavia would have to be lesser nobles. Equally nonsensical is the disconnect between the attribute bonuses provided to certain nonhumans here and the average scores of their NPC brethren described in the bestiary. The typical PC Sidhe is exceptionally bright, for example, while his NPC kin are not unusually smart but are remarkably dexterous.

Finally, the chapter offers “Callings” – the equivalent of D&D Prestige Classes, I suppose. Like Prestige Classes, each has prerequisites for entry in terms of attribute and skill levels, and each has its own Talent Trees, preferred skills, and skill points and bonuses per level.

The Callings:

Alchemist Archer Astrologer Bandit Burglar Corsair Courtier
Demonologist Forester Friar Jester Knight Mage Man at Arms
Merchant Minstrel Monk Priest Scholar Witch  



Chapter Four: Skills and Talents*
(*Nope, there’s no “Chapter Three”. Again, stay tuned for proofreading commentary…)

Skills start at reasonably broad, growing more specific in Knowledge and Handicraft skills; e.g., Forgery covers every type of forged document and coinage, while Handicraft: Brewer/Vitner covers the ability to produce one specific type of beverage. However, the system’s generous skill defaulting means that any degree of specificity won’t hinder most characters too much. The skill listing doesn’t neglect specifically medieval skills like Heraldry, either.

I should also mention that the breakdown of weapon sub-skills is one of the most sensible I’ve seen: 2-handed blades, large blades, small blades, bows, crossbows, flails, hafted, 2-handed hafted, lances, pole arms, slings, spears, and thrown weapons. Combined with the Brawling skill and skill defaulting, the list provides plenty of room for characters to specialize without unduly hindering them when their weapons of choice aren’t close at hand.

Talents follow the same basic format as do d20 Feats, grouped into “Talent Trees” that in turn fall under the various classes and callings; hence, a character must be of a class or calling that has a given Talent Tree in order to gain one of the “Tree’s” associated Talents. Most have some sort of prerequisite in the form of attribute levels, skill levels, and/or other Talents. The Talent Tree called “Open Talents” simply refers to Talents that aren’t actually part of any one Talent Tree.

The Talent Trees:

Academia Alchemical Sciences Arcane Training
Beast Lore Brawler Church Doctrine
Coin of the Realm Combat Training Defensive Fighting
Dirty Fighting Fools and Their Money In the Stars
Inventive Incantations Life at the Abbey Magical Order
Militia Training Mime & Music Mounted Combat
Open Talents Path of the Healer Path of the Missionary
Path of the Mystic Path of the Righteous Quick & Agile
Rank & Privilege Sell Sword Skirmisher
Statecraft Wanderer Way of the Arrow
Way of the Wise Wild Fighter Wilderness Lore

While an awful lot of them involve nothing more than bonuses to task rolls, the list does include some clever and thematic entries – particularly those related to the Church. A character with Clever Illuminator, for example, can encode secret messages in the illumination of manuscripts, and Excommunication and Sacraments have actual game effects. (The latter go a little way to making up for the relative blandness of Divine magic in the game setting, I suppose – see below.)

Chapter Five: Combat
The combat system puts the Omni Table to very good use, starting with four basic maneuvers – Attack, Defend, Move, and Stunt – and applying modifiers to simulate more specific subcategories like grapples, aiming, dodges, retreats, and “dirty tricks”.

At its most basic, combat involves all participants rolling Initiative based upon their Speed ratings. Difficulty numbers depend upon the defender’s appropriate weapon skill or Brawling skill, the latter used to defend against both unarmed and ranged attacks. Weapons have flat damage ratings; however, Partial Successes only do half damage, and Critical Successes force the victim to make a CON roll with a penalty equal to the weapon’s damage rating. Anything less than a partial success on the CON roll completely incapacitates the victim (and can result in an instant kill for unimportant NPCs); Partial Successes result in -5 penalties to all actions until the wound is healed, while Full or Critical Successes allow the victim to continue fighting without penalty. Armor reduces damage, and shields reduce the chance to hit based upon their rating.

This nicely streamlined mechanic requires only one roll for both attack and damage, so long as the opponent has not chosen a Defend maneuver, which can only be attempted before the attacker makes his roll (meaning that a combatant who wins initiative must forfeit it to use Defend). In that case, a Full or Critical Success automatically blocks or avoids the attack, and a Partial Success cuts any damage from the attack in half.

It’s worth noting here that those using Defend can elect to either dodge or parry. Dodging uses the Brawl skill (based on the Combat Rating) but can default to Acrobatics (based on Dexterity) at a -5 penalty. That’s rather important as it relates to armor. (See below.)

Also, when parrying, shields offer their bonus to the parrying roll rather than acting as a flat penalty to the attacker. The Shield skill only comes into play directly in this circumstance; when shields are used in passive defense, the Shield skill is a have-it-or-don’t matter, with a -4 penalty to all DEX-based actions if the character lacks the skill and only half of the shield’s value applying.

As for Stunts… I’m afraid they’re left a little vague. For one thing, since a Critical Success on a normal action is described as the character getting the exact result he wants, I’m left uncertain as to what a Full Success should mean. The examples don’t help much, either. A trick shot with a bow to hit an unarmored spot on an opponent is called a Stunt rather than an Attack, and a Partial Success counts as a failure in that circumstance. Fine, but what makes that a Stunt with a change to Omni Table definitions as opposed to an Attack with a penalty to the roll?

Stunts play an important part in combat, too, given the game’s base mechanic and the lack of open-ending die rolls. Again, if Opponent A has a higher score than Opponent B in a given conflict by even a single point, Opponent B can never get a Critical Success and Opponent A can never get a Fumble. Stunts are just the thing to change that equation – some sand in the eyes, a sudden change of position courtesy of a swing or a flip, etc. The system’s fairly forgiving to PCs when it comes to survival. Being reduced to 0 HP requires a CON roll with a penalty equal to the amount of damage below 0, with a Full or Critical Success allowing the character to survive unscathed and Partial Success allowing for survival with some sort of permanent injury. Failure requires a series of CON rolls with a cumulative -1 death spiral (presumably until stabilized). Only a Mishap will result in instant death… for PCs and important NPCs, at least. Unimportant NPCs may be considered dead at 0 HP – a nice enough mook rule, as it keeps damage ratings important while still moving things along.



Chapter Six: Magic
The magic system follows the same effects-based methodology as does Talislanta 4th edition, but with a few important tweaks. As in Talislanta, magic falls under various “Modes” based purely upon the functionality of the spell:

Alter Attack Conjure Defend Heal Illusion
Influence Move Reveal Summon Transform Ward

Also like Talislanta, each magician belongs to an “Order”: Alchemy, Demonolgy, Occultism, Sorcery, and Witchcraft. These determine which Modes (if any) aren’t available, what bonuses and penalties may apply when using specific Modes that are available, and any specific effects achievable with given Modes through that Order. For example, Alchemists cannot use Conjure, Illusion, Move, Reveal, or Summon, can use Heal at +2 and Transform at +3 but Influence at -2, and can only Alter naturally-occurring inanimate objects or Transform creatures or objects into such things. Orders also come with other specific advantages, limitations, and physical components; Alchemists, for example, are completely dependent upon chemical and herbal physical components and may require access to a full lab for more complex spells, but they do get a +1 when casting spells using substances they’ve prepared themselves.

I can’t quite wrap my mind around the manner in which the setting incorporates an equivalent to clerical magic: the Occult. The idea goes that the Roman Catholic Church looks at secular Greco-Roman magic and makes use of it with God providing the power. I don’t understand why the Church can’t have Divinely-powered magic all its own, especially since the setting sees fit to include Wicca-style witches with their own religious magic.

Also, I’m not a fan of the limitation on magic taking the form of a cumulative -1 penalty per casting per spell – something that also irritates me about the magic system found in Cinematic Unisystem games like Buffy and Angel. I’d prefer that magicians have the ability to manage their reserves of power rather than being at their best only on their first casting. On the bright side, Critical Successes on a cast spell means that this penalty doesn’t apply, which means that skillful magicians won’t have to worry so much about wearing themselves out on trivial spells. It also gives magicians a good incentive to cast from written works such as scrolls and tomes in order to get the associated +5 casting bonus, even if this precludes fast-casting.

More generally, the effects-based system just doesn’t work for me as it relates to medieval fantasy magic. It feels far too mechanical and not nearly mystical enough when all spells of a given type are the same, differentiated only by special effects. That bugged me enough in a generic game like Savage Worlds, but in such a specific setting, the right feeling’s all the more important to me.



Chapter Seven: The Church
The majority of the chapter explains medieval Catholic theology – or a boiled-down and simplified version, at any rate – and the organization of the Church, including its hierarchy and its monastic and military orders. Again, the book only blatantly steps beyond real-world history when it comes to magic, clarifying the Church’s use of “Divine” magic and tolerance for natural secular magic.

My only problem with the chapter is that it doesn’t make clear whether the Church’s theology is the setting’s objective truth. The presence of actual fallen angels in the bestiary certainly seems to suggest this, yet the magic chapter’s equivocation regarding the true source of Divine magic casts the truth of the matter into doubt.


Chapter Eight: Equipment
The weapons listing offers some clever little mechanical treats here and there to spice up the differences between weapons, such as the quarterstaff’s bonus to defense but penalty to offense and the ranseur’s bonus to tripping and unhorsing attempts.

Interestingly, the listing also includes an editing error that gives some insight into the development of the system prior to the addition of the Combat Rating attribute. Weapon stats erroneously list either Dexterity or Strength (rather than Combat Rating) as the attribute used for that weapon, with all ranged weapons – but only the lightest melee weapons (up to short sword) – using the former. If you’re like me and dislike the disconnected aspect of the Combat Rating, this provides a nice alternative.

Armor stats also provide some nice statistical options. While most armor is purchased as full suits, accessories like helmets, vambraces, and greaves may be purchased separately for additional points of protection and other bonuses at the expense of certain penalties – helmets, for example, make it more difficult to knock out characters from a blow to the head but also make Perception-based rolls more difficult. That’s a fine compromise between having to account for every rivet of armor and having characters wear a pair of gauntlets to dinner to pick up an extra point of overall protection.

Shields add variable bonuses to defense rather than to armor reduction, depending upon their size. All but the lightest armors and shields inflict a Dexterity penalty, which, given the disconnect between Combat Rating and Dexterity, means that heavily-armored warriors can attack and defend unhindered but that lightly-armored swashbuckling types must rely upon DEX-based Stunts rather than swift Attacks and Defenses to counter that advantage. This could be fixed easily enough by the addition of an actual Dexterity-based Dodge skill that could be used in place of the Combat Rating for defense. The available DEX-based alternatives don’t make much sense: characters can dodge using Acrobatics at a -5 penalty or Dexterity at an effective skill of 0, meaning that characters only start getting better at DEX-based dodging once their Acrobatics skill reaches 6.

Old-school fantasy gamers should be pleased at the detailed general equipment list. There may not be a 10’ pole or flasks of holy water, but you can purchase backpacks, individual torches, flint and steel, and a good, common, or poor night’s stay at an inn. It almost brings a tear to ye olde eye.

As for costs, the game wisely decides to jettison historical accuracy for simplicity and prices everything in English silver pennies; however, the chapter also notes the prevalence of barter and the unlikelihood of hauling around a king’s ransom in coinage. Ownership of land, not coins, stands as the true measure of power. (Well, that and the ability to set a rampaging giant ablaze with a gesture, one assumes.)



Chapter Nine: Gamemaster Only
Omni System is a simple enough system, but the coarseness of the success levels may make interpretation of results a little vague. This chapter starts out by providing useful guidelines for GMs to use in interpreting success levels appropriately for both general rolls and for magic, also providing a chart for determining difficulty levels.

In what amounts to a sort of mini-bestiary, the chapter also includes a handy list of quick NPC stats along with fees for hirelings.

I’m not entirely sure what the list of notable calendar dates is doing here, since presumably knowledge of them wouldn’t be “Gamemaster Only” information; still, it’s certainly nice to have, as are the stats for assorted lovely diseases such as gonorrhea and leprosy and travel times by land and sea.



Chapter Ten: Bestiary
High Medieval definitely offers a sufficiently large bestiary to qualify as a self-contained game:

Ajatar
(winged serpent)
Animal:
Brown Bear
Animal:
Lion
Animal:
Wolf
Animal:
Elk
Animal:
Boar
Animal:
Horse, Riding
Basilisk Brayglin Corpse Maiden Demon:
Fallen Angel
Demon:
Imp
Demon:
Torturer
Elemental:
Air
Elemental:
Fire
Elemental:
Water
Elemental:
Earth
Fir Bolg Fomorian Fleshless Dead Ghosts
Goblin Gorgon Gryphonic Beast:
Gryphon
Gryphonic Beast:
Hippogryph
Harpy Hell Hound Hobgoblin
Lamia Manticora Ogre Phouka Sea Serpent Seelie
(elves)
Thiazi
(wood elves?)
Unicorn Unseelie
(dark elves)
Vampire Varangar
(dwarves)
Walking Dead Werewolf  

The list has two rather noteworthy absences: giants and dragons. I think the book would have been better served by covering these basics than it was by including lesser-known creatures like the ajatar and the corpse maiden.

I also note that for all its attempts to be D&D in the “real” Middle Ages, the bestiary contains no orcs. Goblins and hobgoblins appear to fill the orc/half-orc niche, with no lesser beings filling D&D’s goblin/kobold niche.

The “prehistoric” origins of certain creatures – the basilisk, the sea serpent, and the fir bolgs – seemed a little off-putting to me. Such ideas are great for more specific settings – Earthdawn, for example – but here, knowledge of prehistory and evolution, even in a metagame sense, fits neither the mysticism of the game’s folkloric aspect nor the giddy nonsense of the game’s D&D influences.


Style

First off: good GOD, but I cannot believe anyone made even a cursory attempt to proofread this book.

I mean, how hard is it to make sure that the chapters listed in the table of contents reflect the chapters actually found in the book? Or that the actual chapter titles reflect the chapter contents? Or that, as previously mentioned, there aren’t two “chapter twos”?

Then there are the examples of inconsistent paragraph spacing, the spelling errors, the obvious placeholders left for omitted information (such as the weights of monsters listed as “weight”…), the copying-and-pasting of at least one block of text straight from Talislanta (complete with references to races found in that game)… Sheesh.

And even if all of that mess was cleaned up, that would still leave the game with serious editing issues. Foremost among these is the confusing division of rules between the Rules chapter and the various chapters dedicated to specific aspects of the rules; e.g., the basics of combat are found not in the Combat chapter, but in the Rules chapter. Ditto for the basics of skill use and magic use.

All of which really is a shame, because the book looks as though it was on its way to a very classy presentation. The front cover has the look of a medieval tapestry, and many of the interior illustrations appear to be medieval woodcuts. The remainder of the interior art – all black-and-white – stays well above average, including work by Talislanta artist PD Breeding-Black and class illustrations by the incomparable Larry Elmore… until we come to the Bestiary, at which point it appears that the writers, out of time and money, found themselves screaming, “For God’s sake, somebody draw a medusa! Quick!!” The font choice for the body text is quite legible, and the headers have a nice medieval manuscript feel to them, as do the page borders.

I heartily approve of the writer’s choice to describe the setting in-character using the observations of a gnome merchant interspersed with the sarcastic comments of a Seelie, the consummate insider vs. the consummate outsider when it comes to human society. The less flavorful text isn’t so much the fault of the writing as it is the fault of the rules it’s describing, in my opinion.

Finally, the book does feature an index, albeit one that hasn’t proved all that useful to me. Still, I’d rather have a poor index than no index any day of the week.




Conclusion

High Medieval is a great idea that deserves a more polished execution. As it is, it feels like an attempt to bring high fantasy full circle with a wooden wheel so full of dings and nicks that an octagon would make for a smoother ride. Above all else, it feels very, very rushed, as if the company rolled that wheel out of the barn without a second glance for flaws. Or even a first one.

As it is, I think that gamers would be better off getting the generic Omni System rules – or perhaps Atlantis: The Second Age – and incorporating the historic elements themselves.


SUBSTANCE:

  • Setting
    • Quality = 4.0
    • Quantity = 5.0

  • Rules
    • Quality = 3.0
    • Quantity = 4.0

STYLE:

  • Artwork = 3.0

  • Layout/Readability = 3.0

  • Organization = 2.0

  • Writing = 3.5

  • Proofreading Penalty = -2.0

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Recent Forum Posts
Post TitleAuthorDate
Re: [RPG]: High Medieval, reviewed by Dan Davenport (2/3)Old GeezerAugust 28, 2007 [ 01:49 pm ]
Re: [RPG]: High Medieval, reviewed by Dan Davenport (2/3)owe for the fleshAugust 27, 2007 [ 09:35 am ]
Re: [RPG]: High Medieval, reviewed by Dan Davenport (2/3)Dan DavenportAugust 27, 2007 [ 08:18 am ]
Re: [RPG]: High Medieval, reviewed by Dan Davenport (2/3)C.W.RichesonAugust 27, 2007 [ 08:10 am ]
Re: [RPG]: High Medieval, reviewed by Dan Davenport (2/3)MisterGuignolAugust 27, 2007 [ 06:25 am ]

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