The Brotherhood of Blackheads

If there's any trope in fantasy gaming I have little love for, it's the adventurers' guild. You know what I mean - an organization of itinerant mercenaries, operating in parties that take on tasks together - and wouldn't you know it, those parties just so happen to have the same breakdown of backgrounds, skillsets, and specializations as a typical group of PCs - either soliciting jobs from those incapable of helping themselves or seeking their own fame and fortune, who are willing to slay monsters, explore dungeons, and loot treasure hoards, and more often than not all in the name of wanderlust and/or profits.

To me, there is no greater flashing neon sign saying "this is a game." The typical adventurers' guild assumes that the PCs (or more accurately, the stereotypes of PCs) are not outliers; the sorts of people they are and the kind of work they do are so commonplace as to form its own immediately recognizable socioeconomic class. This, in turn, suggests that the rules of whatever game system you're playing are not abstractions of something more nebulous and harder to define, but a direct model of how this world actually functions.

Now, for some people, that's fine. There have been settings built around exploring RPG tropes and mechanics as the observable reality of the world, and some of them are quite enjoyable in their own right. However, I find it a barrier to becoming immersed in the stories we're telling at the table, and in the setting as a living, breathing world, if it seems that story and that world exist only to prop up the rules, rather than the other way around. The adventurers' guild stands out as a particularly egregious example because it's something so commonplace in games, yet something with nearly no historical or literary precedent that isn't directly traceable back to TRPGs...

With at least one notable exception.

We don't know as much about the Riga branch,
but their hall looks amazing.

The Brotherhood of Blackheads was a guild and fraternal organization that existed in the Baltic region during the Middle Ages, and whose traditions continued for many years. To understand the Blackheads, we first need to understand the context of the time. This was around the era in which trade in the Baltic Sea was largely controlled by the Hanseatic League (which is probably worthy of a post in and of itself), and thus associations of merchants and traders in this area grew very wealthy and powerful. But in Tallinn (now the capital of Estonia), the Great Guild - the most powerful of the merchant associations - was open only to married merchants who resided in or had established business in the city. Enter the Blackheads.

The Brotherhood of Blackheads (so called because their coat of arms depicted the head of their patron, the African Saint Maurice) was initially composed of the sorts of people who couldn't join the Great Guild - foreigners, unmarried merchants, and the like. The Brotherhood gave these merchants an opportunity to associate with another, and to attend the meetings of the Great Guild to keep up to speed on what the local market was like. It also gave them a chance to throw parties after work and on holidays, which they did a lot of, meeting in their halls each night for what no doubt involved a lot of drinking and merriment.

It wasn't all fun and games, though. The Blackheads had to abide by rules. Junior members of the guild had to serve established members. Those feasts were mandatory, and one could be fined for not attending them. There were also fines for insulting or striking another member of the guild - especially in public. Records speak of a fine of five pounds of wax (by medieval standards this is a lot) for grabbing another Blackhead by the hair and throwing beer in his face, which tells me this had to have happened at some point if there was a rule for it - the "Please Do Not Feed Hallucinogens to the Alligators" of the medieval world. In addition to their obligations to each other, the Blackheads also had responsibilities to the cities they resided in; at times, the guilds were tasked with tending to the altars at the local churches. In both Tallinn and Riga, the Blackheads were also responsible for buying the town Christmas tree.

But more importantly, the Blackheads were obligated to defend their cities against invasion. As the story goes, the guild was first formed when a group of foreign merchants banded together to aid in resisting the siege of Tallinn in 1343, and they were rewarded for their service with official recognition by the city. As such, military service was an important part of the Brotherhood, and at least the Tallinn branch supplied their city with catapults, cannon, and a cavalry detachment that patrolled the city walls.

Seeing it yet? We have a group of largely foreign contractors, not quite citizens, who are granted a guild in a city and serve its people, including in battle; whose members have their own business and pursue their own financial betterment but who hold their own traditions and retire to their halls to drink together. If you're looking for a historical adventurers' guild, this one ticks many of the boxes. Maybe it isn't a one-to-one match, but it's the closest I can think of.

A while back, I ran a Dragon Heist campaign with the setting transplanted to the city of Hynden in the Levic Marches - my setting's analogue for Hanseatic Livonia. In researching the history of this region, I discovered the Blackheads, and I knew I had to include them. In the Lunar Lands, they exist as the Company of Boars' Heads, a guild of those merchants and travelers who were unable to join the League of Three Crowns due to being foreign, unmarried, or both, who operate their own organization in return for serving in the defense of Hynden and performing other, more ceremonial duties (like helping decorate for Midwinter festivities). And, yes, their members might even take on some odd jobs once in a while.

Regardless of how you feel about adventurers' guilds, though, the Brotherhood of Blackheads is undoubtably a fascinating piece of history that reminds us of how colorful the past can be. It's ripe with inspiration for DMs, and something like it could fit into many a fantasy city. I'd love to see more settings take note.