The Holy Kingdom

If you ask which of the many City-States that span the neck of land from the Greater Halvards to the borders of Taldameer is the greatest, you'll get many answers. But one name that will surely arise is that of the Holy Kingdom of Lescatie. It may not have the great sphere of influence of Fiora or the merchant fleets of Alcasse, but, as the seat of the Cult of Voltan, god of law and rulership, it holds the status of primus inter pares among the cult centers, viewed ceremonially as the reflection of the Heavens on the mortal coil. To that end, it has attained great fame and great wealth as an important destination for pilgrims, and increasingly as a forum of diplomacy between different lands. Though its recent history is one of great upheaval, it has not marred the city's prominence.

Located centrally in a valley, the city's strategic location makes it the nexus of several roads. Like many of the City-States, Lescatie enjoys a modest temperate climate, with grapes being a prominent crop - though its proximity to the Halvard Mountains tempers the warmth of the south.

Lescatie has been a sacred site to Voltanites since time immemorial - one of the earliest Voltanite grottos was found in the caves beneath the Grand Temple, and early Pantheonists migrated from the valley along the Vardess River to spread through what is now Vardessy. However, the history of the Holy Kingdom itself begins with Matto the Great. Believed to have been fathered by a five-horned bull that came out of the sea and impregnated the wife of a chieftain, Matto grew to be a great leader of men, and slew a dragon upon a hill on the south shore of what would come to be known as Lac de Salvarisonnes. Following a prophecy that a city built where the dragon fell would become the capital of a great kingdom, Matto erected a castle there, and over the centuries, the city grew around it.

It was only many years later that the cardinals of Voltan's cult, fleeing the destruction of their previous seat of power, petitioned the king of Lescatie to take up residence in the city, citing the ancient grotto beneath its walls. The king agreed - and over the years, the power of the cult grew and grew, while that of the monarchy dwindled. By the early days of the reign of Emperor Harald IV, it was an open secret that the kings of Lescatie were little more than figureheads, and the real power sat with the Patriarchs. And with that power came greed and corruption, as the elites of the clergy and the nobility enjoyed a nigh-untouchable status thanks to the primacy of their city and the fortunes brought by trade, pilgrimage, and the fertile land. In time, the Patriarchs lost communion with the gods, but continued to hold their status, abusing it to whatever whims cemented their power. Elitism and xenophobia ran rampant. The priesthood grew rich, while the downtrodden were neglected within the walls of the most holy of cities.

About twenty years ago, spurred on by foreign agitators and joined by the kingdom's disaffected, an uprising took hold of Lescatie - and the city was conquered from within in the course of a single night. The cult had grown so confident and complacent in their rule that they feared no invasion, leading them to neglect the city's defenses, and even the armies that defended the kingdom saw the promise of a better life by turning aainst their masters. The reigning Patriarch, Gascon III, was usurped by Lady Wilmarina, a paladin and the Knight-Commander of the very order entrusted with his personal bodyguard, who asserted her rightful claim to the position by divine mandate.

Wilmarina's ascension to the position of Matriarch was not without controversy. Not only was she the youngest person and the first woman to hold the position in generations, she was not part of any monastic rites, breaking a long-standing tradition (and, in fact, married within the first year of her tenure). Nevertheless, she cemented herself as a radical populist by Lescatian standards, establishing a council of dignitaries from many lands and welcoming the voices of outsiders, as well as filling her circle of cardinals with those she trusted to place service to Voltan and to the kingdom above their personal advancement. Since then - per the cult - the balance of the Heavens was restored, and Lescatie has enjoyed peace and prosperity.

But can such peace last?

2024: The Year of the Gazetteer

Let's not beat around the bush. This blog was designed, at least in part, as a repository for lore on my setting, and while there's undoubtedly been that sort of material posted here, I haven't been doing as much as I would like to.

In no small part, that's due to the fact that I don't really know where to start. Cosmology? The nature of magic? Any particular region? Will any of that even be of use to the people who read my blog? As such, the worldbuilding stuff has taken somewhat of a backburner in favor of my musings on game theory and inspirational material. But I do have a setting I want to put out there. And this place is Tales of the Lunar Lands, after all.

Luckily, I've figured out a solution.

We have a new year right around the corner. And in the interests of putting out more content for my blog, and putting more setting information to paper (pixels?), I declare 2024 as the Year of the Gazetteer.

I've always enjoyed gazetteer materials for RPG settings. They're worldbuilding in its purest form - no story, often no game mechanics, just lots and lots of ideas. There's a reason the Mystara gazetteers are so fondly remembered, and the gazetteers White Wolf put out for Ravenloft back in the 3e era remain the definitive version of that setting for me. Even if you aren't intending on running those settings, you can flip through the pages of a gazetteer and soak in the details, imagining what life in the setting might be like or what stories could be told there. As a worldbuilding nerd, I love that stuff. Some of my favorite Star Wars publications are the Essential Guide series, after all. And I feel like it would be just the sort of format I would want if I was to publish more setting material.

How's this going to work? I'll devote each month in 2024 to a different region of my setting, and my output for the blog for that month will be a gazetteer for that area, with details on the local culture, the points of interest, and relevant factions and personalities. I also intend to put out hex maps of each area, or at least parts thereof, because my setting has gone way too long without one. This way, I have the inspiration I need to post more, and I can get more setting content out into the world in the process.

Regular features like Friday Encounter will still continue, but if possible I'll try to relate the encounters to the themes of the spotlighted region that month (they will, of course, still be usable anywhere, for the sake of utility). I'll still post my thoughts on gaming and DMing, too, but they'll be mixed in with the gazetteer posts.

Finally, I intend for most, if not all, of my gazetteer postings to be useful at the table. I understand that not everyone has much interest in listening to me ramble about my setting. That's okay - I'm not expecting anyone to start playing in it. I merely want to get some of my thoughts out there, and to have a place where it's stored online for easy reference. But whenever possible, I'll try to include dungeons, quests, NPCs, and magic items that might be useful for any DM to borrow, whether they're using the rest of the setting material or not. And of course, I often find myself getting inspired by reading the musings of other DMs - I'd be honored to provide that inspiration for others.

Without further ado, I'd like to announce the schedule for the Year of the Gazetteer:

January: Lescatie - The Holy Kingdom

February: Valossa - Isle of Swords

March: Togarmah - Land of the Golden Peace

April: Ukiah - The Howling Steppe

May: Al-Riyah - Emirate of the Winds

June: The Freikantons - Dominion of the Swordbrothers

July: The Sonderlunding Highlands - The Ancestral Lands

August: The Levic Marches - Seat of the League

September: Golnir - Kingdom Among the Ruins

October: The Crownlands - Heart of the Empire

November: The Green Downs - The Halfling Heartland

December: Tennurhaf - The Sea of Teeth

We'll see you then - and in the meantime, happy gaming!

I Wrote a Bar Brawl

Remember my post on bar brawl adventures? No? I can't really blame you if you don't - it's been a while. But for about as long as I've had that post up, I've had the intention of putting together my findings into a thesis of sorts by writing up a bar brawl of my own. And now, I present to you my Christmas gift for the community:

The Fourteen Points

This is a bar brawl adventure that can be used as a one-shot for a night of mayhem, or dropped into a larger campaign. The default setting is a roadside inn somewhere in the Vardessian Empire in the Lunar Lands, but it could easily be used anywhere in any setting, with the names of NPCs or background details tweaked accordingly. Alternatively, the maps and NPCs included here could be used to flesh out other inns as DMs require, without running the full adventure.

Rules given are for D&D 5e, but the adventure is mostly system agnostic. Unless otherwise stated, all NPCs have the stats of a commoner.

Background

The Fourteen Points is an inn of moderate respute - its location on a well-traveled trade route has brought wealth to the region, and it enjoys noble patronage, but it still sits far enough from any major centers of culture such that the lower classes do not feel welcome there. It belongs to the fief of a landed knight in service to the local Count. The name comes from an incident that led to the founding of the establishment - many years ago, an ancestor of the current lord was on a hunting trip when his tracker led him to a stag with a rare fourteen points on its antlers - by tradition, an imperial stag, and a quarry of great renown. The occasion was celebrated with a feast in the lord's manor, and in return for his service, the tracker was granted the stag's head and antlers as a trophy. He went on to found the inn, with the head displayed proudly.

The Fourteen Points presents many of the amenities of an inn on a well-traveled road, boasting a taproom that serves ale, wine, and mead, as well as meals of stewed pork or chicken with roasted vegetables and bread, and provides dancers and music for the entertainment of its patrons (see the Caravaneers below). There are also beds upstairs, and a stable where travelers can house their horses.

One policy of the inn is that weapons are required to be peace-bound at the door - that is, they must be tied in their scabbards to prevent them from easily being drawn. To draw a peace-bound weapon requires a full action to undo the binds; alternatively, a DC 20 Sleight of Hand check can be used to attempt to undo the binds as a free action. All NPCs whose statblocks include weapons can be assumed to have them peace-bound unless otherwise noted.

Running the Adventure

As a bar brawl adventure, this scenario is not meant to have a defined end state or sequence of events. The staff and the patrons all have distinct goals, motivations, and relationships with one another that may - and likely will - lead to conflict, and they should react to one another. The actions of the PCs may well instigate mayhem, and if so, it's up to them to figure out how to deal with it! As such, most of the action should be roleplayed out, at least until any punches get thrown.

However, the NPCs have traits of their own that should ideally come into play. If you feel as though the things are getting slow, or interest is waning, have the NPCs interact with one another (or with the PCs). Use the personality traits and relationships of the NPCs listed below as guidelines for how these interactions may play out.

If this adventure is run as a one-shot, the players can take the roles of pregenerated characters. Alternatively, they may take the role of one of the staff or patrons. If this option is chosen, I recommend giving each player a notecard with any information relevant to play their character, but they should be advised not to share it with the other players unless they choose to do so, for extra fun!

Optionally, three rounds into the brawl (or earlier or later, if the DM chooses), three bandits will take note of the wedding procession parked outside and storm into the taproom in an attempt at robbing the presumably wealthy patrons. It's possible that by this point, keeping track of all the action may prove too daunting for the DM as it is, in which case this encounter may be skipped. If they are NPCs, and unless they have been stopped from doing so, the Ostler and the Barmaid (see the Staff) will have withdrawn to the hayloft to indulge in their passions when this happens.

I recommend using these house rules created by one reader of my blog for all your brawling needs.

The Fourteen Points

Click to enlarge

Click to enlarge

Map Key

a. Porch: This area sits underneath the upper level of the stable, protecting it from rain. There is a well here. Notably, there are several well-made carriages bedecked in bells and garlands from a wedding procession parked outside.

b. Taproom: All tables here count as Climbable High Ground (a full movement action may be used to get on top of them, and attacks made on targets below have Advantage). This room contains the following points of interest:

1.  A stack of kegs is set on the counter to dispense ale. If fighting breaks out within five feet of them, there is a 25% chance per round that one of the kegs will be knocked over. If this happens, the ale spills over the floor and disrupts footing, as a grease spell.

2. The head of the stag from whence the inn gets its name is hung on the wall. It has 14 points on its antlers, but has eight on one and six on the other, so by strict definitions it is not a true imperial stag. The Lord's Son (see the Nobles) is defensive about these allegations. If fighting breaks out within five feet of the head, there is a 25% chance per round that it will fall off the wall, dealing 1d4 non-lethal bludgeoning damage to any creatures standing beneath. The head can also be used as a large improvised weapon.

3. A stuffed "owlbear" stands in the corner - really a forgery created by attaching a fake beak and feathers to the head of a taxidermy bear. Created by the Innkeeper (see the Staff) who is defensive about the allegations that it isn't real.

4. A noticeboard is placed against the walls, listing local odd jobs, proclamations, and broadsheets. Included here is a wanted poster for a thief who has been at large. This is the Thief (see the Commoners) but the poster inaccurately depicts a man who resembles the Musician (see the Caravaneers).

5. A stage set for performances. The Caravaneers are performing here.

6. The hearth. A fire is burning, and there are three pokers set in beside it, which count as medium improvised weapons.

7. The Wedding Party is seated here.

8. The Lord's Son and the Bodyguard (see the Nobles) are seated here.

9. The Inspector (see the Nobles) is seated here.

10. The Farmer and the Dwarf are seated here (see the Commoners).

11. The Orc (see the Commoners) is seated here.

12. The Thief (see the Commoners) is seated here.

13. The chandelier. Participants in the brawl may attempt to swing on it with a DC 15 Acrobatics check. On a successful check, they have Advantage when making attack rolls against targets below them; on a failure, they fall and take 1d6 fall damage. Additionally, on a natural 1, the entire chandelier comes off the ceiling; it cannot be used to swing on after this, but can be used as a large improvised weapon.

c. Hallway

d. Kitchen

e. Servants' Quarters: The barmaids and the Bouncer (see the Staff) sleep here. There is a chest at the foot of each bed containing personal belongings; one also contains a silver necklace worth 5 GP.

f. Stables

g. Storeroom

h. Hallway

i. Guest Rooms: A bed here costs 2 SP per night.

j. Common Room: A bed here costs 5 CP per night.

k. Foyer

l. Innkeeper's Bedroom: The door is locked and the Innkeeper (see the Staff) carries the key on his belt. The chest at the foot of the bed contains 200 GP's worth of coins and jewelry.

m. Hayloft 

The Staff

• Alfrid, the Innkeeper, can be found at the bar, serving food and drink to weary travelers. He is very fond of the ale, which is brewed by his brother elsewhere in the fief, and will take offense to anyone who complains about it. As a member of the peasantry, he is sympathetic to the plights of his fellow commoners and vassals, and is suspicious of the lord and finds his Son obnoxious and the Bodyguard (see the Nobles) a bully, but he prefers to stay out of trouble unless provoked. He created the fake owlbear taxidermy in an attempt to one-up the achievements of the lord's family, and is defensive against anyone who accuses him of faking it.
• Romhilda, the Bouncer, is a large, burly woman of imposing build, and her mere presence is enough to quell many a row (she has Proficiency on Intimidation checks). She can be found stationed by the door, in the taproom. In a previous brawl at the tavern, she took a punch to the face that left her with a lazy eye, and wears an eyepatch ever since. As such, her eyesight is poor (she has Disadvantage on any Perception checks that rely on vision). Despite this, she takes her job seriously and will step in to enforce the rules (anyone who causes a disturbance twice is warned, and evicted on the third offense; anyone who displays an unbound weapon or starts a fight is supposed to be evicted by force if necessary). She is aware that the Innkeeper has faked the owlbear, but will insist it is real if confronted and takes his side. She uses the stats of a thug, but does not carry a weapon.
• Hubert, the Ostler, is in charge of the stable and the guests' horses, providing them with stalls and feed. Unlike the rest of the staff, he spends his time in the stable and does not enter the taproom; in between the arrival of guests, he sweeps the floors and tidies the facilities. He finds his job to be honest work and doesn't complain, but he is curious about what goes on in the taproom that he's missing out on. Unbeknownst to the rest of the staff, he and the Barmaid are engaged in an affair, and earlier in the day, the two of them have promised to meet tonight in the hayloft.
• Erika, the Barmaid, is one of four barmaids who make their work in the taproom serving drinks to patrons and cleaning up tables after they leave. With a shrewd, no-nonsense attitude, she has a sharp tongue and isn't afraid to chide the patrons, especially if they test her patience, which is often. She would prefer that things stay under control, and will try to discipline anyone acting out of line. However, unbeknownst to the rest of the staff, she and the Ostler are engaged in an affair, and earlier in the day, the two of them have promised to meet tonight in the hayloft - a commitment she intends to keep.

The Caravaneers

• Saybea, the Dancing Girl, is a beautiful young woman from a band of Caravaneer nomads who have set up camp for the season elsewhere in the fief. Currently, she is employed by the inn to entertain its patrons. She can be found on the taproom floor, performing for the customers with a graceful and entrancing routine, accompanied by the music of her brother, the Musician. She has a bold spirit, outgoing and outspoken, and she often casually flirts with others. Mostly this is to tease them, but she was previously engaged in a tryst with the Groom and hopes to draw him away from the Bride (see the Wedding Party), who she feels is a self-obsessed, stuck-up shrew who he deserves better than.
• Patrin, the Musician, is the brother of the Dancing Girl and the other half of her act. He takes the stage with her, playing the fiddle to set the tempo for her dance. In terms of personality, he is the polar opposite of his sister, meek and nervous around people; he prefers to stay out of trouble and will be the first to try and talk others down should things escalate, and if that fails, he tends to run for cover. He does feel somewhat jealous of the Minstrel (see the Wedding Party), who he feels is a better musician than himself but is too prideful to admit this.

The Wedding Party

• Melissa, the Bride, is a young woman from a wealthy merchant family who earlier today celebrated her marriage to the Groom, and has stopped at the Fourteen Points with her entourage on the way home. She is still riding high off of her emotions over what she believes to be a dream come true, marrying the love of her life (even though the marriage was arranged by their respective families) and carries that merriment even after the ceremony. She has expensive tastes, knowing how well how rich she is, and enjoys bragging about it - carrying fine clothes and jewelry, she takes pride in her wardrobe and will not stand to have it dirtied, and she will order the finest wines for all of her guests. However, she is vindictive and jealous, and is quick to anger if anyone was to get in the way of her marriage or insults her or her husband.
• Corin, the Groom, is the son of a minor noble family from the next fief over who is traveling home from his wedding to the Bride. Although she is technically a commoner and below his rank, his family believes that her family's wealth would be a great asset to their purposes. For his part, though, he is a staunch believer in chivalry and will defend his lady's honor, being the first to start a fight if anyone was to slander her. Unbeknownst to his wife, he previously had an affair with the Dancing Girl (see the Caravaneers), but did not realize that she is currently working as a dancing girl at the inn; he finds this fact incredibly awkward and hopes that it doesn't arise. He uses the stats of a noble.
• Karl, the Mercenary, is a soldier in service of the Groom's family who has been hired to accompany the procession for the protection of the newlyweds. He stands staunchly beside their table with a stoic expression on his face, hoping it will deter any trouble. Ironically, however, he is a coward at heart and only agreed to the job believing it to be easy money. If any conflict should seem to arise that involves the wedding party, he will try to talk the people involved down so that he doesn't need to step in. He uses the stats of a guard.
• Jeanette, the Minstrel, is the Groom's sister, and an accomplished harpist who accompanied the wedding procession to perform for them. She is happy for her brother, but secretly finds the Bride an annoyance - the Bride insisted she come along because she felt a musician was necessary for the perfect wedding atmosphere she sought, and Jeanette would rather not have to deal with her whims. Even at the taproom, she can be found playing the harp for the table at the Bride's insistence, which she dislikes but bears with it. She is prejudiced against Caravan People, believing them to be liars, cheats, and thieves, and is quick to distrust them.

The Nobles

• Reinhardt, the Lord's Son, is the son of the knight who owns the fief in which the Fourteen Points is located. One day, he will be expected to take up his father's arms in service to the Count, but until that day comes he is happy to live a flippant life of luxury without a care in the world, and can often be found at the Fourteen Points over a glass of wine. He flaunts his status openly, with a well-coiffed mane of blonde hair and a doublet of fine silks, and carries a rapier at his belt. He is especially proud that his ancestors slew the stag that lends the inn its name, and will boast of the story to anyone even if not asked, insisting it is a true imperial stag and fervently denying any accusations to the contrary. He isn't afraid to throw around his perceived authority and openly berates the Inspector, who he believes to be an ineffectual drunkard and that the Count is a fool to place his trust in him. He uses the stats of a noble.
• Franz, the Bodyguard, accompanies the Lord's Son wherever he goes and is sworn to protect him if trouble arises. He is readily identifiable by the tabard he wears bearing the lord's coat of arms (a series of five wavy blue bars on a gold field), another open display of the family's authority. Fiercely loyal to his charge, he will back him up in any dispute and is quick to come to his aid. He also has a manic twitch in his eye and has been waiting for a fight for some time, and is easily provoked and slow to listen to reason. He uses the stats of a guard.
• Laurent, the Inspector, is an agent of the Count, sent to survey the land and ensure that his vassals are behaving themselves. He is particularly suspicious about how dependable the local lord is to act in his master's best interests, and is staying at the Fourteen Points because he knows the Lord's Son frequents it, feeling that he can get a sense of the situation on the ground. Furthermore, he is on the alert for any wanted criminals and intends to report them to the Count's forces so that justice may be served. Unfortunately, he is irresponsible and prone to indulging in his vices, and he is currently very drunk (he has Disadvantage on all attack rolls and skill checks) and will do nothing to break up any trouble that arises.

The Commoners

• Ari, the Farmer, is a serf of the lord who tills the land not far from the Fourteen Points, and the tavern is a favorite spot for him to spend time at the end of a long workday. Even though he is legally a slave and owes a portion of his labor to the lord, he holds a resentment of the wealthy and has been surreptitiously accruing wealth of his own through gambling in the taproom with the other patrons in the hopes of one day buying his freedom. Whatever his cause may be, he distrusts nobles of all sorts no matter their alliegances or intentions, and he also has a dislike of Caravan People, believing the Dancing Girl and Musician to be witches conspiring to put a curse on him in order to steal his money. He is unscrupulous in his means and willing to cheat. He can be found playing a game of Hazard with the Dwarf, in which he - unbeknownst to the dwarf - is using a set of loaded dice. When he is the Caster, he replaces the dice with a nearly identical set (DC 20 Perception check to spot the difference) that are weighted to always land on fours, and he insists on using eight as his Main (it's his "lucky number") when he rolls. He denies any allegations of cheating and staunchly maintains his honesty.
• Tulon, the Dwarf, is a dwarven stonemason from a mountain hold not far from the Fourteen Points, stopping at the inn on her way from selling her wares in the next town over. Unafraid to speak her mind, she is blunt, brutally honest, and makes no attempts to please people; in particular, she is proud of the cave wheat ale grown in her home, and is outspoken in her complaints about how the ale served at the inn is hopelessly inferior. Additionally, her hold was besieged by orcs long ago, and though it has not suffered any attacks in her lifetime, the stories were often shared by those old enough to remember them, causing her to grow up with a distrust of orcs. She can be found playing a game of Hazard with the Farmer.
• Bazghul, the Orc, is an itinerant orcish warrior in search of glory, having left his clan in the hopes of acquiring a reputation for himself through great deeds of arms. He has stopped at the Fourteen Points to spend the night before continuing down the road, and can be found sitting by himself and indulging in excesses of food and drink - as of now, he is on his third tankard of mead and his second bowl of stew and shows no signs of slowing down. He is an outsider to the community and has no preconceived loyalties to any of the other patrons, the staff, or the noble families that govern the land - but at the first opportunity for a fight to break out, he will eagerly join in the fray, targeting whichever combatant looks the strongest, both to boast of his strength and just for the fun of it. He carries a well-worn battleaxe on his belt; though peace-bound, it is with a flimsy thread that is really just there as a formality. He can draw the axe as a free action without needing to take an action, but he believes in honor and will use his fists unless someone in the brawl (not necessarily someone he is fighting) draws a weapon first. He uses the stats of an orc.
• Lia, the Thief, is a wanted burglar from the next town over who is on the run from the law. She has booked a room at the Fourteen Points in the hopes of waiting out her pursuers until the morning, where she intends to continue down the road at an early hour. Unfortunately for her, once inside the inn she discovered that her wanted poster is posted on the wall. Though she is not immediately alarmed (in part because of the innacuracies of the poster), she is understandably anxious about being discovered and on edge. She sits alone and stays quiet, trying to avoid others, and will try to deflect and steer the conversation elsewhere if questioned. She has not left the inn because she fears that doing so so soon after her entrance would be conspicuous, but if a distraction occurs she will attempt to slip out while the other patrons are occupied. She uses the stats of a spy, but does not have a ranged attack.

Midwinter

Of all the holidays in the Lunar Lands, those of the Wheel of the Year - the four solstices and equinoxes, and the four Cross-Quarter Days at the midpoint between each - are the most prominent, celebrated by just about every region. Due to their association with the changing of the seasons and the waxing and waning of daylight, these dates are important markers of the calendar that farmers make their plans by. But of all the holidays, perhaps the most favored of all is Midwinter, the winter solstice.

As I understand, it's the rarest dish in all the land.

For practical reasons, the longest night of the year makes for a time of celebration - when it's cold and dark, and the ground outside is hard, barren, and covered in snow, there is little work to be done, and the hearts and minds of many turn to hearth and home, finding company in family. Many Midwinter traditions sprung up to give people something to do over the long night, and in turn, the closeness the occasion brings to family and friends has led to Midwinter becoming known as a time to celebrate kinship and unity. Many hold feasts and gatherings, which may be as modest as gathering the family under one roof to partake in their company over a warm meal or as lavish as a grand banquet, often times held by feudal lords and open to all of their vassals (at these feasts, a boar's head is the traditional centerpiece). During this time, songs may be sung, games may be played, and gifts may be exchanged to give thanks for love and loyalty.

However, as the longest of the nights, Midwinter also marks the division between one year and the next in the calendar of the Lunar Lands. While the years are commonly numbered by the Vardessian Emperor in power at the time, a new year officially starts at midnight on Midwinter. Due to the use of a lunar calendar, and due to the fact that the solstice does not always match up with the twelth new moon, this often gives rise to an intercalary period which, in some places, sees the festivities continue for up to a full week.

In the cults of various gods - and in other faiths entirely - Midwinter marks the occasion of many important rites to ensure prosperity in the coming year. The high priests of all the major cults oversee grand sacrifices on this date, often accompanied by the local monarch (if applicable) to emphasize the importance of their rule. Of course, many local temples bring offerings of their own, as do homes and families across the land, and Midwinter feasts often include a portion of the main course set aside for the gods (either burnt separately or merely in the form of a dedication). These feasts and sacrifices are often the occasion on which oaths are sworn, with vassals affirming their loyalty to their liege in the next year, and those who intend to make great quests or journeys pledging to do so at this time. So too, Midwinter is a popular time for divination, with many seeking out oracles and soothsayers to predict what the next year will bring in their lives.

Of course, the boundaries between this year and the next are not only important to mortals. The liminal nature of Midwinter means that it is one occasion on which the boundaries between this world and others are weaker, and thus, magic is stronger - but not quite as reliable or predictable as on Samhain or Beltane. It also means that otherworldly beings are free to roam the world at this time, which has inspired many folk customs...and can be a danger to the unwary.

Evergreen plants, like pine trees, holly, and mistletoe, are associated with Midwinter for their ability to thrive through the cold, with many hoping their own fortunes will similarly last the winter. It is common to see both settlements and individuals lay garlands of evergreen and erect trees, which may be decorated for the occasion with candles and ornaments. So too, Midwinter, like Samhain, often sees people going wassailing from house to house singing songs and sharing in food and drink with the inhabitants. However, there are all sorts of local traditions revolving around Midwinter, and just about every region has their own customs.

Special Rules

Midwinter takes place on the winter solstice, typically either the Twenty-First or Twenty-Second of Oakmoon (analogous to December 21st-22nd, or the twenty-first or twenty-second day after the twelth new moon of the world's lunar calendar). From this date to the next new moon, the spirit of peace and harmony pervades the air. If you are using a reaction table, add or subtract 1 from all reaction rolls during this time (whichever makes positive reactions more likely).

Local Midwinter Traditions (d20)

All of these are real Christmas traditions.

1. In this region, people catch or buy a live carp several days before Midwinter and raise it in their bathtub before eating it on Midwinter's Eve.

2. In this town, two rival guilds both erect a massive straw goat in the leadup to Midwinter, competing to see who can make the largest. A separate, though illegal, tradition has arisen of trying to burn down one or both goats before Midwinter.

3. People in this region observe a peculiar form of wassailing, covering themselves in a sheet and holding a puppet made from a horse skull as they go from door to door engaging the residents of each home in a duel of rhymes. If the guisers win, they must be given food and drink.

4. In this region, people burn a log in their hearth continuously through Midwinter so that demons cannot enter the home through the chimney.

5. In this region, people place offerings of food on their doorsteps through the night on Midwinter's Eve so that spirits passing through can eat them (and hopefully be appeased so they will not bring misfortune).

6. In this village, people hide a vulgar figurine somewhere in town on Midwinter's Eve. Whoever can find the figure the next day will have good luck in the coming year. Local clergy find the practice disgusting, but the locals refuse to change.

7. In this region, two men in the garb of a bishop and a Swordbrother (more on these guys in another post - think Landsknechts) walk the streets on the night of Midwinter's Eve, asking any children they find if they pray. If they do, the bishop gives them toys and candies; if they don't, the Swordbrother whips them with a stick.

8. The arrival of Midwinter in this region is announced by the blowing of a large wooden horn at the stroke of midnight.

9. In this town, elaborate public plays are performed in the town square on Midwinter, with no expenses spared in spectacle or costume.

10. One of the streets in this town is set aside as a marketplace in the days leading up to Midwinter, with many stalls selling gifts, candies, and mulled wine.

11. In this region, it is customary for the local lord to switch places with a slave or servant for one day on Midwinter.

12. In this region, on the night of Midwinter's Eve, a mock battle is staged between two groups of citizens, one of them dressed as demons with the other group beating them with sticks, to represent the expulsion of ill fortune for the new year.

13. In this region, nobles appoint a randomly-chosen villager to preside over the Midwinter feast. They are encouraged to promote drunkenness and disruptive behavior.

14. In this region, the night of Midwinter's Eve marks a parade in which the townspeople don grotesque masks and walk the streets to scare off evil spirits. 

15. In this region, a loaf of bread is baked for Midwinter dinner in which the dough is slashed open and the seeds of various crops are inserted. Whichever seeds rise the highest when the bread bakes, those crops will see the most bountiful harvest next year.

16. In this town, a tree branch is thrown on a bonfire on Midwinter and the townspeople take turns poking it with sticks. The more embers are produced when the branch is poked, the more luck that person will receive in the new year.

17. In this village, the townspeople place a number of candles in their windows equal to the number of children in the household on the nights leading up to Midwinter so that generous spirits will know how many gifts to bring. More practically, this also helps light the way for miners who must head to work before sunrise.

18. In this village, on Midwinter, a procession goes through the town square leading a large basilisk puppet, which then performs a speech announcing the sins of all the townspeople.

19. In this town, on Midwinter, the local lord is brought to the town square and seated on a throne, where an official appointed by the townspeople as the Abbot of the People addresses them on the concerns of the common folk.

20. The Midwinter feast in this region includes a dish (such as a loaf of bread, cake, or soup) that contains a single coin or nut. Whoever's portion has the trinket will have good luck in the coming year.

Friday Encounter: How the Korred Stole Midwinter

Art by Boudicca

This encounter is best suited for when the PCs are on the road, though it could be used if they happen to be in a small town close to a mountainous area for an extended period of time. If you are keeping track of in-game time, it should be used in the winter, preferrably in the days leading up to an important winter holiday (especially one that celebrates values of giving and generosity). In the Lunar Lands, this would be Midwinter, which takes place on the winter solstice, but feel free to adjust the details to fit your setting.

The encounter is, of course, a homage to How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Keep in mind that familiarity with the story may make the optimal solution to the scenario too obvious - if you think this will be a problem, you may want to play down the Seuss references at your discretion.

Background

Midwinter is an important holiday across the land, with almost every community having their own traditions. During the harsh winter months, and the longest night of the year, such celebrations bolster morale and keep families together when everyone is holed up inside and the snow blankets the fields. But sometimes, these traditions hold more practical purposes. As one of the days where the boundaries between this world and realms beyond is weakened, Midwinter provides opportunities for magic to creep into everyday life - and not always for the better. To that end, some holiday rituals are practiced to repel otherworldly influence and protect people against its threats.

For the village of Werdorf, this is especially important. The village sits at the foot of the imposing Mount Fladenbrot, at the top of which dwells Geisel, a korred. This fey spirit would like nothing better than to terrorize the town and work mischief, but every Midwinter, the townspeople hold a great ceremony to keep him at bay for the next year. This has only come to harden Geisel's heart and make him desire revenge on the town below, but thanks to the spell, he is unable to enter the village, save for a short window of time toward the year's end before the next ceremony can be completed.

That is, until he got a terrible idea. If he was to disrupt the ceremony, he would be able to wreak havoc all he pleased. And when strangers come to town, he sees just the opportunity he needs...

The Encounter

Ideally, the party should arrive in Werdorf about two or three days prior to Midwinter. There, they will discover the townspeople hard at work decorating for the occasion, hanging greens and baubles from the doorways and rooftops and erecting a towering fir in the town square. Notably, the fence that surrounds the village is covered in iron horseshoes. If they ask around, they will be directed to Boris, the town headman, who can explain the story:

As long as everyone has known, Geisel the korred has dwelled in the caverns of Mount Fladenbrot, and his power waxes as the nights grow longer and the year grows to a close. Long ago, the greedy creature entered the town one Midwinter, where he stole all of its food and wealth, set the animals loose, and caused the crops to fail. Ever since, the townspeople hold a great feast on Midwinter, sacrificing a wether to the god Torvald to ensure the village stays warded against him for another year. The horseshoes on the fences are to turn away the fair folk so that Geisel doesn't interfere as the people prepare for the celebrations. No one knows why Geisel has such spite for the townspeople; perhaps his heart is simply too full of malice.

Boris will happily invite the PCs to participate in the ceremony, and directs them to the inn if they need a place to stay until the time comes. In the inn, they will run into Thurl, a deep-voiced local minstrel who can be found entertaining a crowd of children by performing a song cursing Geisel with many colorful insults. If the PCs are in need of healing, Boris can also point them toward Theo Zoice, the town doctor, who can mend their wounds.

If the PCs stay in Werdorf - ideally over the next day - they will hear the grinding of wheels against the road. Investigating the noise, they will find an old man in a shabby, patched cloak, hobbling along at the side of a donkey pulling a cart just outside the fence. The man claims to be an itinerant tinker, but one who has fallen upon hard times, and he barely has enough ore to sustain his craft. He points to one of the horseshoes along the fence and asks if he can have it to melt down (he will not touch it himself, insisting it be placed in his cart).

The "tinker" is, of course, Geisel in disguise, and the "donkey" is really his pet blink dog. The two are out looking to compromise the ward on the village so that he can slip in on the night of Midwinter's Eve and steal the food and decorations needed for the feast. If the PCs show suspicion, Geisel will firmly deny any knowledge of the story and implore them to have mercy on a poor man. He will thank them greatly for any aid they provide and continue down the road.

If Boris learns of the missing horseshoe, he will be aghast, fearing for the safety of his people (it has been generations since their traditions began, and he has never seen Geisel attack anyone, but he doesn't want to take his chances). If he sees that the PCs look armed or capable, he will implore they storm Mount Fladenbrot and deal with the korred before anyone comes to harm!

Further Developments

If the horseshoe was removed from the fence, Geisel and his blink dog will descend on the village at midnight on Midwinter's Eve, stealing the food for the feast and any garlands and ornaments from the town, even carrying away the tree in the town square. When the townspeople discover the theft the next day, Boris will demand the PCs take up arms against Geisel in retaliation - if the rituals won't work, the korred must be expelled by force!

Should the party attack Geisel's home with open hostility, he will harry them from the top of the mountain, throwing rocks at them and sending his blink dog to attack them as they ascend the slopes. If the PCs make it to the top of the mountain, he has two ropes woven from his hair that are placed by the entrance to his cave, and a third inside, and will command them to ensnare any intruders while he attacks them. If he is dispatched, the party can find a hoard of 3d10x10 GP's worth of gold and jewels, plus a hat of disguise, within his lair.

If, on the other hand, the party comes without weapons drawn, or if they showed him an act of generosity (for instance, offering money or resources of their own, rather than the horseshoe, when he met them in disguise), the korred will be more friendly. He will relate that he always felt left out of the town's Midwinter celebrations and just wanted to be a part of them - but, of course, the fair folk have very different ideas of celebration than humans, and the devastation he wreaked on the town was merely his way of getting in the holiday spirit. Ever since then, however, he grew bitter from how he was spurned by the townspeople and sought revenge.

If the PCs can convince Geisel to leave the village in peace and for Boris to let him in on Midwinter to share in the celebration, peace will be made between the korred and the people of Werdorf. He will join in the feast and even perform the sacrifice of the wether. At the end of the night, due to the spell, he will be forced to return to his mountain for the next year, but he wouldn't want to deny the people of their merriment, and looks forward to joining in again next year. Before he leaves, however, he will give out gifts for everyone in the town, including the PCs.

Each PC should receive a magic item suited to their character and class (use your judgment; you know your players better than I do). Furthermore, the party will have made an ally of Geisel, and he will be willing to lend his aid if called upon in the future.

We Need More Nutcracker Adventures

We're closing in on Christmas time again - and if you look around the TRPG community, you're bound to stumble over more than a few queries from people looking for advice on Christmas-themed adventures and encounters to send their players on to celebrate the season. And more often than not, the first thing anyone is going to recommend is Krampus - either encouraging the DMs to make use of the concept themselves, or taking their pick from a sea of Krampus-themed modules out there.

The Aquabats episode can stay, though.

Look, I get it. I can see why Krampus became such a popular choice. For a lot of people, fighting monsters is a key part of D&D, and there aren't many other notable Christmas monsters out there. But the oversaturation of Krampus has made him completely lose any appeal to me. In the last couple of years, Krampus has gone from being a fun bit of trivia to being one of the things about Christmas that everyone knows, and that more people have done something with than I can count. He's played out. He isn't fun and new and exciting any more, and hasn't been for years. Surely there are other sources we can draw from to create a scenario with an unmistakably Christmas feel that still wouldn't be out of place at the tabletop.

As a matter of fact, there's one in particular that's worth a look. The Nutcracker and the Mouse King, by E.T.A. Hoffmann.

Raise your hands. What do you know about the story of the Nutcracker? Well, there's a Nutcracker in it. He's given to the protagonist by Herr Drosselmeyer and fights the Mouse King. There's a Sugarplum Fairy involved in there somewhere. The music goes "da da da da DA DA dadada," you know the one. A lot of people are familiar with the iconography of the Nutcracker story, but can anyone tell me what actually happens in it?

No? Didn't think so.

Did you know that the Mouse King has seven heads, for one? Yeah, that's a detail from the original book that gets left out a lot - and it's theorized that it may be a reference to the phenomenon of rat kings, so that's one evocative image to draw on.

Did you know that the Nutcracker wages a nightly war between the toys and the invading mice, who want to eat all the candy and chew up the toys in the house?

Did you know that there's a kingdom of dolls that the Nutcracker rules over, with forests of sweets, gates made of sugared almonds, gingerbread men who suffer from toothaches, and a castle made of marzipan (under repairs because a giant named Sweettooth ate part of the roof)? 

Did you know there's a subplot about the Nutcracker having to find a sword that can slay the Mouse King (this, by the way, is solved by having the protagonist's brother give him a sword from one of his toy soldiers, who he punishes for not fighting the mice earlier by "forbidding them from playing the Hussar's March for a year;" no word on whether or not they listen)?

Did you know that three chapters (that's about one-fifth of the book, for reference) are devoted to the origin of the Nutcracker, and it's begging to be mined for inspiration?

See, as the story goes, it all began when Lady Mouserinks, the Mouse Queen (just go with it) led an army of mice to eat the fat that was supposed to be used for a sausage at a king's banquet. In response, Herr Drosselmeyer - who happens to be the court inventor - made traps for the mice, killing the children of the Mouse Queen. This, incidentally, is how mousetraps were invented.

In response, the Mouse Queen - who apparently commands great magical powers despite being, by all accounts, the size of an ordinary mouse (you'll see what I mean later) - placed a curse on the princess to turn her into a nutcracker. According to the court astrologer, this curse could only be lifted by having her consume the magical nut Crackatook, after it was opened by the teeth of a man who had never in his life shaved or worn boots, who must then close his eyes and take seven steps backward. You know, ritual stuff.

Despite the court searching the world for years (which includes meeting the King of Dates, the Prince of Almonds, and "the Society of Natural Sciences in Squirrelton"), they can't find the nut, nor a man who suits the requirements, until Herr Drosselmeyer heads home to Nuremburg, where it turns out that his cousin, a puppet-maker, has the nut (he found it when he got in a fight with a nut seller who was blocking his door, and a cart ran over his bag of nuts in the commotion, breaking all but one). The king promises his daughter's hand in marriage to whoever can crack the nut, but everyone who tries breaks their teeth on it - except for Herr Drosselmeyer's nephew, who happens to have never shaved or worn boots. He manages to crack the nut, but after handing it to the princess and lifting her curse, he takes the required seven steps backward with his eyes closed...and, with his seventh step, squashes the Mouse Queen. Who goes on to sing this.

Oh, Crackatook, hard nut, now I must die,

Hee hee, pee pee.

Nutcracker, young man, you too will die.

My seven-crowned son will avenge my death,

And take from you your living breath.

Oh, life, so vibrant and red, I - squeak!

I am very mature.

Anyway, with her dying breath, the Mouse Queen places a curse on the nephew that turns him into a nutcracker - the same one given by Herr Drosselmeyer to his goddaughter - and ever since, the Mouse King has been out for revenge for his mother's death!

Let's recap. The story of the Nutcracker is full of strange monsters, curses, magic items, bizarre locations, rituals, fantastic races, and grand quests...in other words, the perfect material for a campaign! Don't just take my word for it, give it a look yourself.

I'd love to see people do more with the Nutcracker when it comes to Christmas-themed modules. In fact, I've been workshopping one of my own based on the story. I can't promise a release date any time in particular - real life gets in the way, you know the drill - but I think there's plenty in the story that can be mined for a hexcrawl. Watch this space!

In the meantime, though, this week's Friday Encounter will carry on the Christmas spirit, drawing inspiration from another famous Christmas story. And there's more holiday fun on the horizon!

Friday Encounter: The Cursed Monastery

This encounter may be used on a lesser-traveled road or in the wilderness, preferably reasonably close to civilization. It is best used if the PCs are traveling and in need of shelter, perhaps as darkness creeps in, or else in adverse weather conditions.

Background

Those traveling long distances will of course need places to stay, restock, and rest their heads. Of course, there are roadside inns and villages that will house travelers, but these aren't the only option. Knights and nobles might make pleas to their peers to allow them shelter in their castles for a night, and if all else fails, there are many monasteries and convents whose doors are open to the needy free of charge, though the visitors may be expected to assist with chores or partake in the communal meals of the faithful in lieu of payment.

Mengrenath, a demon, knows that. Like many demons, he delights in leading the servants of the gods astray and creating discord, and just recently he hatched a scheme to do just that. Posing as a hermit in the woods, he encountered a foolish young initiate from a nearby monastery who was out foraging for food and offered him a bushel of mushrooms, instructing him to place them in the stewpot but cautioning him not to tell anyone what he'd done or where the ingredients came from.

The mushrooms were, of course, cursed - and when the monks consumed their dinner that night, they were all stricken with a poison that wasn't just deadly, but afflicted them all with unlife. Mengrenath was tickled to know that his plan was such a success...but, emboldened by it, he wanted to go further. Now, he schemes to claim more lives by taking advantage of the monks' vows of hospitality, directing weary travelers into the jaws of the dead!

The Encounter

The PCs should first encounter Mengrenath, still in the guise of a hermit - he appears as a tall, thin man in a long and weather-beaten cloak with the hood pulled over his brow. As he comes upon the party, he notes they look weary, and offers to lead them toward a nearby monastery where they will surely find a place to rest. He will not under any circumstances reveal his name or his true nature, simply calling himself "a stranger" and that the PCs "don't need to know," and using circuitous answers that don't lead anywhere if the PCs insist. He will lie to the party to assert that the monastery is safe, and if they seem hesitant he will state that the monastery has a hermitage he stays at occasionally before deciding, apparently on the spot, that he might as well stay there tonight, as "it feels like rain."

If the PCs agree to let the hermit lead them to the monastery, he will take them down a route that will get them there in about half an hour. He stops at the gates before telling the PCs he had something to attend to, and that he'll find his way back to the hermitage to meet them there. The next time the entire party takes their eyes off the hermit, they will find he has vanished without a trace.

Entering the monastery, the PCs will find no sign of any monks, not even if they ring the bell by the door. It is only if they push deeper into the monastery that its true nature will be revealed.

There are a total of 36 undead monks (stats as zombies) in the monastery. Use the map below as the party explores the area. Five monks are wandering monsters - every 10 minutes the party spends in the monastery, or any time they make noise, roll 1d6; on a 6, 1d4-1 of the monks, assuming they are still intact and undead, appear.

Click to enlarge

1. Stable: There is a live horse in one of the stalls. It is noticeably thin, like it hasn't eaten for a few days. This horse belonged to Fernando Moran, a merchant who was staying at the monastery when the zombie plague struck (see cloister below). His wares, totaling 500 GP in textiles, grains, and other trade goods plus 300 GP in coinage, are kept behind a locked door that leads into a warehouse; the key is carried by one of the monks in the chapter house (see below).
2. Chapel: There are eight zombified monks standing amongst the pews (for extra fun, make sure they have their backs turned to the PCs when they enter to make their true nature less apparent). One of the elder brothers is carrying a silver censer that in his mindless undead state he has taken to using as a flail, and deals 1d8+1 bludgeoning damage on a successful hit. The censer is worth 30 GP if sold. Also here is a golden candelabra on the altar worth 25 GP. Behind the altar is a large scroll case inlaid with silver; it is worth 200 GP, but will be difficult to transport (it weighs 100 pounds and is 6 feet tall).
3. Cloister: There are four zombified monks lurching around the cloister and into and out of the cells. Each cell is shut by a door with a narrow window to the inside and contains a bed, desk, and chamber pot, but no valuables. One cell is barricaded from the inside, but the light of a flickering candle can be seen from the window, and the sound of knocking can be heard from within; if the PCs approach, they will hear a man calling to them from the inside. This is Fernando Moran, a merchant who was staying at the monastery when the zombie plague struck. If the PCs seem friendly, he will introduce himself and explain the situation as best as he knows - he notes that the monks began acting strange and attempted to grab him about three days ago, and he has barricaded himself in the cell ever since. He notes that he didn't feel well the day before then and stayed in the cell during the communal meal - unbeknownst to him, this saved his life. He will pay the PCs 100 GP each if they escort him to safety, and he has contacts in the nearest town that he will pass their names onto, allowing them to get more favorable prices at the shops there.
4. Dining Hall: There are ten zombified monks gathered around the table, currently devouring an entire pig.
5. Scriptorium: There are two zombified monks here. On one of the tables is an illuminated manuscript worth 30 GP. On another is a half-finished scroll of bless. Because of its half-finished state, attempting to cast it requires a DC 10 Intelligence save, with a failed save triggering a scroll mishap.
6. Library: The door to this room is locked, and the key is carried by one of the monks in the chapter house (see below). The shelves contain eight rare books, each worth 1d6x10 GP, as well as two spellbooks, three scrolls of bless, two scrolls of healing word, and a scroll of branding smite.
7. Infirmary: There are enough herbs, bandages, and other supplies here to comprise a healer's kit. In addition, there is a locked box that contains four potions of healing. The key is carried by one of the monks in the chapter house (see below).
8. Storage: There is nothing of value in this room, but there is a zombified monk in the corner of the room furthest from the door, hiding in the shadows and behind a stack of boxes. Any creatures that rummage through the supplies will alert the monk to their presence.
9. Chapter House: This building is home to the three eldermost brothers of the monastery, who meet in the common room downstairs to discuss the administration of the facility. The upper floor contains the living quarters for these monks, one of whom has a silver holy symbol containing the finger bone of a saint underneath his bed. When the PCs arrive at the monastery, there are two zombified monks downstairs. One monk carries a key ring on his belt with keys to all the locked doors in the monastery.
10. Almonry: The door to this room is locked, and the key is carried by one of the monks in the chapter house (see above). This is where the monks keep wealth to be donated as alms to the poor. The room currently contains 500 GP in coins, as well as clothes, shoes, blankets, and the like. Removing any treasure from this room, however, will cause the PCs to attract the wrath of Marseah, goddess of mercy and hospitality, who will punish them with rainstorms and cause their rations to spoil until appeased by an act of penance.
11. Kitchen: This is a separate building to reduce the risk of fire. There are four zombified monks here, one of whom was once the initiate who brought the curse on the monastery. He carries a bag around his shoulder that contains a thick, heavy ledger. Inside, he has made records of his conversations with "the kind hermit in the woods" and has jotted down a map leading to where he found him harvesting mushrooms. He states that he should return there if the mushrooms prove tasty enough.
12. Hermitage: This is a small cabin set aside for any visiting hermits to take up residence in. There are currently no hermits present, and no valuables.

In addition, the monastery is surrounded by a stone wall that also encloses some farmland, beehives, and animal pens, not included on the map. Nothing of value is found there.

Further Developments

If the PCs return to where they met Mengrenath, they will find no sign of him. However, a DC 15 Investigation check will reveal a trail of footprints in the shape of hooves in the earth. If the PCs follow the trail, they will come upon the mushroom patch the demon harvested his cursed mushrooms from. Alternatively, if the PCs found the initiate's map, they can follow it to the mushroom patch.

Art by Critical Meltdown

There is no sign of Mengrenath at the mushroom patch, either - but it sits beneath the boughs of a large, dead tree, from whence the ground sprouts a nest of pallid toadstools that drip a thick black slime. A close inspection will reveal the mushrooms have markings on the stalks that resemble a ghastly face.

A DC 12 Arcana check, or a DC 20 Nature check, will reveal that these mushrooms are the Fungus of Lamentation. Said to sprout from the grave of a murderer, these mushrooms carry a poison so strong, it is capable of killing those who eat it and animating their bodies as undead.

If a creature eats one of the mushrooms, it must make a DC 17 Constitution save or immediately drop to 0 HP. Any death saves made afterward are made with disadvantage, and any creatures that die as a result rise as zombies three hours past midnight 1d4-1 days later.

Friday Encounter: Cube in a Bottle

Thinking about my recent ruminations on second-string D&D monsters, I do need to give an honorable mention to gelatinous cubes. I didn't include them in the last post because I wouldn't exactly call them underused, and let's be honest, they are pretty silly. I might've made a case for cloakers, but I don't know if I can make gelatinous cubes cool. They're just inherently kind of ridiculous. But I love them all the same. Their inclusion in the 3e starter set that introduced me to the game (complete with a little cardboard gelatinous cube counter for the map) stuck in my mind, introduced me to the word gelatinous, and cemented gelatinous cubes as a running joke in my family for years, to the point where I was very confused when a gelato restaurant opened near me later on. One of the ways this manifested in one of my early games was an encounter I saw fit to revisit for my column.

Cube in a Bottle

This encounter can be used in most environments. It could be dropped in a dungeon room or encountered along the side of the road in an overturned cart, in the wilderness in an abandoned cabin, or in a town in some back alley or run-down house the party decided to tresspass in. The important part is that the PCs should find two items - an old journal, and a strange potion bottle.

The journal details the experiment log of an alchemist, describing how the author scraped some slime off the wall of a cave into the bottle and dropped table scraps into it over a couple of days. As time passed, the slime grew and grew until it began to fill the dimensions of the bottle. The journal notes that this must be a step toward the ultimate pursuit of alchemy - the creation of life! However, the log abruptly ends after a few entries. The reason why is up to you - perhaps something nefarious happened, or the alchemist was a victim of their own curiosity, or perhaps they simply lost their work and are looking for it now...

The bottle, meanwhile, is completely filled with a transparent viscous substance. It might be mistaken for being empty, but is heavier than an empty bottle should be, and is corked with a copper plug. Careful investigation will note that the side of the stopper inside the bottle appears green, like it's corroded.

If watched closely (DC 15 Perception check), one might observe that the fluid inside the bottle seems to slowly slosh back and forth on its own, as though it's alive! A DC 15 Nature check, furthermore, will determine that the bottle contains a gelatinous cube that has grown to fill the dimensions of the bottle rather than those of a dungeon corridor. This check is made with Advantage if the creature making the check previously read the alchemist's journal.

If a creature consumes the contents of the bottle, they must make a DC 12 Constitution save. On a failed save, the thick texture of the cube is so repugnant that they vomit out the contents, preventing further harm but giving them Disadvantage on attack rolls and ability checks for the next hour. On a successful save, the creature is able to supress their gag reflex enough to swallow the cube...which is worse.

Enter Action Time if this happens; also roll initiative for the cube, but it cannot take normal actions at first. Every round, the cube will grow inside the victim's digestive tract, dealing 3d6 acid damage and 3d6 force damage at the start of its turn.

After 1d4+1 rounds, the cube begins to expand from the victim's mouth, during which it can be targeted and can make attacks with its pseudopods (it cannot engulf creatures in this state). If damaged, the cube takes half damage (rounded down) and the victim takes the other half. Note that the cube will not be hostile toward creatures other than the victim until it is attacked by them.

A cure disease or similar spell will automatically expel the cube from the victim's body, but it will remain hostile to the victim and to any creatures that attack it. If the victim dies while the cube is growing inside of it, the cube explodes from its body violently and expands to its full size over the course of 1d4 minutes.

Alternatively, if the bottle is opened and the contents dumped out, the cube will expand to its full size as above. If not attacked, it will be largely indifferent toward the creatures that freed it and will continue on its business doing gelatinous cube things unless interacted with (with hostility or otherwise). A party that provides the cube with food may be able to make an ally of it...though it is wise to keep it sated, lest it go after them instead!

I Love Underused Monsters

What can be said about the depths of D&D's extensive bestiary that hasn't been covered in detail so many times before? It's only natural that a game that's been around for so long, and with enough need to create new and interesting challenges for players over the years, would develop as many different monsters and creatures as it has over the various editions. And of course, with such a wide selection, it's inevitable that some would have more staying power than others. There are some (illithids) that are remembered fondly. There are some (wolfs-in-sheeps'-clothing) that are only brought up as the butt of a joke. There are some (flumphs) that were for years only celebrated ironically, only to develop a genuine fanbase of their own. And there are many more that people just forget about.

One might assume that these monsters fall into the unfortunate middle of the bell curve - too good to become a subject of mockery, but not good enough to become icons. But I've said it before, and I've said it again. The majority of monsters that go unused do so because people don't know how to use them. But when they do, these monsters can really shine.

The true beauty in those also-ran monsters lies in how their obscurity makes them ripe to be exploited. Players who have been in enough campaigns to familiarize themselves with the Monster Manual's greatest hits have a habit of metagaming, already knowing everything about a monster's behavior and weaknesses and how to kill them. There have been a number of strategies proposed to combat this over the years, from using homebrew material to reskinning monsters so that players can't identify their stats by sight. But there's plenty of gold to be mined if one is willing to plumb the depths of the various D&D bestiaries - and if the players aren't as familiar with these creatures, they'll hopefully still hold onto the wonder and mystery that makes a good encounter so memorable.

Today, I'd like to devote this post to celebrating the underused entries in the Monster Manual and its ilk, elaborating on why I like them, and why they deserve to be used more. Perhaps you'll come away with a newfound appreciation for the monsters you never knew how to use - until now.

Perytons

Oh, come on. Don't tell me you didn't know I love perytons. I've already devoted two entire blog posts to the things. Go there if you want to see what I have to say.

Duergar

I can't help but feel sorry for these guys. When it comes to the archetype of evil subterranean variants on the traditionally playable races, the duergar can't help but come at a distant second place in popularity next to drow. Which is a shame, because I've always preferred them.

I've always found drow overplayed and uninteresting. There is basically nothing you can do with drow that hasn't already been done - in Forgotten Realms alone. And it doesn't help that most settings just copy and paste drow straight from Forgotten Realms. That's why I have such respect for settings like Eberron (or, going outside of D&D, The Elder Scrolls - give me dunmer over drow any day) that - gasp! - decided to do something different with the concept of dark elves. But as time went on, I realized I didn't really need dark elves, underground or otherwise. And that led me to look into alternative options.

Maybe it's because dwarves already have a strong association with the underground, but they've always seemed more at home in the Underdark (and its various offshoots in different settings) than elves to me. Not to mention the concept of evil dwarves is ripe for playing on the negative extremes of traditional dwarven traits. The love of gold and jewels turns into greed and covetousness. The isolationism turns into paranoia and xenophobia. The pride in craftsmanship turns into obsession and compulsion, and the respect for tradition turns into a cargo cult mentality that things must be done as they've always been done or else. We see the potential of this in plenty of stories - think of Thorin struck by the dragon sickness, or the more gruesome events to come out of Dwarf Fortress playthroughs - and, as pointed out by Hobgoblinry, it gets closer to the heart of how dwarves were often portrayed in Norse myth. That, to me, is so much richer than the exact same spider-obsessed, inexplicably dark-skinned, cave-dwelling, second-rate Melniboneans showing up everywhere, and it deserves just as much love.

Ankhegs

Maybe I'm a little biased here. I did, after all, write an encounter centering around ankhegs. But that encounter was an effort to show how ankhegs could be utilized effectively, because I just think they're fun. To me, the concept of giant armored bugs that eat through rock and track prey through vibrations on the surface hits a good middle ground in terms of weirdness - that is, they're strange and exotic enough to feel distinctly D&D, but not so out there (in a contemporary sense, before you come to me with bicorns and bonnacons) that they wouldn't feel at home in the pages of a medieval bestiary. After all, the concept of giant insects is one that goes back years, and some of the things ankhegs do are actually seen in the animal kingdom, which grounds them in a sense of verisimilitude.

It's not like it's even all that hard to imagine how ankhegs could play into an encounter, either. There's all sorts of fictional beasts that wait below the surface and follow vibrations to track their targets, from the sandworms of Dune to the graboids of Tremors, and we can easily turn to these works to see what an ankheg encounter might look like. Furthermore, when they're essentially termites on a grand scale, we can get a sense for what dealing with ankhegs might be like if we've ever had to call an exterminator - just think of the last time you had termites in your house, and now imagine what those termites could do if they were eight feet long and spit acid. Plus, you can create an entire dungeon out of the concept of a termite mound writ large!

Another cool thing about ankhegs is that, since they tunnel under the ground, they can quite literally add a new dimension to combat and maneuvering if the party has to think about what's going on underneath them. Or even above them - in a dungeon, they could literally attack from all angles!

Art by lordsenneian

Huecuvas

Using intelligent undead creatures as villains is a mainstay of D&D, from liches to vampires to death knights. But you rarely see these guys get the same treatment, which is unfortunate when you consider how much potential they have. In some ways, a huecuva can be compared to a clerical version of a lich, but in other ways, it's the exact opposite. A lich sought out immortality through dark magic, deliberately severing the soul from their body to stop the process of age and decay. A huecuva, on the other hand, was cursed by their patron god to walk the earth eternally, turning the state of undeath from a position of power to a punishment inflicted upon them.

As someone whose gateway drug to fantasy was ancient mythology, I can safely say that there need to be way more instances of gods cursing people in fantasy, especially ones that at least pay lip service to ancient pagan polytheism, and including huecuvas in your campaign goes a long way toward capturing that feel. Even beyond that, though, huecuvas have some great mechanics that can easily set up some memorable encounters.

The fact that they assume the form of their living selves in sunlight isn't just an interesting subversion on vampires, it also means they're ripe to be used as NPCs, not just one-off enemies. Unlike many undead, it's relatively easy for huecuvas to interact with the living. You could easily use a huecuva as a recurring antagonist by having them run a cult to promote heresies against their former patron, subverting whatever designs their gods had for the world, and the party might well be led to believe they were just another human cultist until they see a walking skeleton peering back at them from the shadows. Even better, the PCs themselves might be led astray by the cult, believing the huecuva to be a trusted ally!

Cloakers

"Whoah, now, buddy," I hear you say. "Cloakers? Are you trying to sell me on cloakers? Is this some kind of joke?"

Yes, I am. And no, it's not. Look, I love noisms as much as anybody - he's one of the first RPG bloggers I ran across, I love Yoon-Suin, and I'm looking forward to The Great North - but when I saw him list cloakers in his top five worst monsters, I knew I had to say something. I'm sorry, but noisms is wrong. Cloakers do not deserve their place on that list.

Cloakers get a bad rap because of their reputation as a "gotcha monster." That is, a monster that looks like something innocuous, only to attack when the party least expects it. It's often been noted that you could create an entire dungeon room entirely out of gotcha monsters. That's not a chest, it's a mimic! That's not a suit of armor, it's animated! That's not a ceiling, it's a lurker above! That's not a floor, it's a trapper! That's not a cloak, it's a cloaker!

People think that cloakers exist only to pretend to be harmless garments hanging on coat racks, waiting for an unsuspecting adventurer to try and put them on. They bring up that that's a stupid concept for a monster; that there's no way something like that could exist without magic, and that there can't possibly be enough adventurers for that to be a sustainable dietary habit.

These people are absolutely correct. But the correct response is not to throw up your hands and shun the cloaker. The correct response is to look at how they could be so much more.

When I had the 3e Monster Manual as a kid, I never thought of cloakers as killer cloak-mimics. I thought they were supposed to be flying manta rays, gliding undetected across walls and ceilings thanks to their paper-thin bodies and dropping on their unsuspecting prey like the silent killers they are, wrapping up their bodies and restraining their limbs so they can only flail hopelessly and breathlessly as the air is smothered out of their lungs, leaving them to await their slow and agonizing demise as the creature's sharp fangs pierce their throat and drink their blood.

That's a cloaker. Any questions?

Well, I have a question for you. Let me know in the comments what your favorite underutilized or obscure D&D monsters are, and how you like to use them! I'm sure that everyone out there has a couple they hold close to their heart - and I'd love to see people share how they bring out their full potential.