The Lake Country

Valossa has a reputation as an arid land, and not without reason - the western part of the main island of Aballa consists mainly of deserts and prairies, and even the mountainous north is dry and sparsely populated. However, there are substantial wetlands on Aballa too - and perhaps the most famed is the region known as the Lake Country, located north of Porto Libre.

Even prior to Taldameeri settlement, the Lake Country was a major agricultural region for the scattered inhabitants of Aballa. While it still boasts many lakes today, those lakes were larger and more numerous centuries ago. Many have since been dammed or drained to make way for settlement, and for the establishment of artificial islands the native peoples of the island used to grow crops. Through heaping soil onto the lake bed, plots of land were built up over time, stabilized by the planting of willow and juniper trees, and fertilized by the fish and salamanders that swam in the waters between them. Such floating gardens could feed many, and over time, they saw many of the region's lakes disappear into mazes of islands and canals.

It has been decades since the last floating garden was built, but they still yield handsome harvests, and some have been in use for centuries. Those close to the Lake Country's settlements are abloom with greens, fruits, rice, beans, and gourds. But so too, these man-made islands have seen kings rise and fall, and some of the reclaimed land has in turn been reclaimed by nature. Large tracts of Lake Country wilderness stands upon the silt of a lake bed, and as the roots that anchor the ground are lost to blight and flash floods, sinkholes and quicksand erupt across the ground without warning, which has caused the doom of more than one ill-fated expedition.

While most Valossans are descended from both Taldameeri settlers and native islanders that mingled and interbred, the sophisticated agricultural systems of the Lake Country sustained a strong population of the natives, and many full-blooded Valossans make up the population to this day. They are dark of skin and hair, and cultivate flowers for ceremonial usage, using them in decorative arts and offerings to the gods (although most are Pantheonists, some families cling to the worship of ancestral, animal, and nature spirits - some more covertly than others). They are also quite proud of the beauty of their women, and many villages in the area hold festivals with pageants to crown a "queen," who oversees ceremonial duties for that year.

The largest festival in the Lake Country is held during the Bloodmoon olive harvest season at the Hacienda Obando (hex 055.022), which is famous for its extensive olive groves and draws merchants from afar with its great market. The hacienda is owned by Countess Josefina Obando, a flamboyant woman who boasts of her great wealth with her elaborate fashion sense and delights in the company of the wealthy and powerful; her family has a permanent seat on the Grand Council. However, she resides in a villa in Florezentina, leaving day-to-day operations of the estate to her steward, Sebastian Barca - who takes his responsibilities with pride, though he begrudgingly wishes his mistress would step up and assert her authority once in a while.

The heart of the Lake Country is the city of Florezentina (hex 054.023). Sitting on the edge of a lake, and surrounded by islands and canals, it is a powerhouse of agriculture and trade, supplying its produce to Porto Libre and other nearby settlements, including the Abbey of Saint Mariquilla the Learned (hex 054.021), a monastery devoted to Mimir, the god of knowledge, which has a large courtyard to preach virtue and education to great assemblies of people from the surrounding villages, and Tarameca (hex 057.021), a major port town that ships its wares on to Taldameer and beyond. Many noble families, including the Margaritas, Vilalbas, and Obandos, have ownership over enterprises in the city, and it has no one feudal lord of its own, instead electing officials from the populace. But it has a strong local culture, and is known for the vividly painted gondolas that paddle across its many canals, as well as for its frequent festivals.

One important position in Florezentina is that of the Mayordomo of the Child - although it carries no actual political power. The city possesses a sacred wooden statue of a baby, said to have miraculously appeared in a field centuries ago, which brings good fortune and heals illnesses to those who pay homage to it. The Mayordomo and their family keeps the statue in their home, sheltering and clothing it like an actual child, and it takes part in festivals and processions. Each year, at the beginning of Snowmoon (equivalent to February), a new Mayordomo is appointed by the city's bishop at the temple of Eostre, and the statue is passed from one family to another. The city credits its prosperity to the child's blessings, but so too it is held that if the child is displeased, it may bring down plague and misfortune upon the people. Some even report seeing tiny footprints in the dirt around the home of the Mayordomo.

There are dangers in the Lake Country, too. One of these is the threat of river pirates. The region sits at the tail end of the great Chichinapa River, and a band of marauders has preyed on the villages and homesteads on its outskirts. They are headquartered in an old watchtower (hex 048.020) and are led by Galindo Diaz, a black-bearded giant of a man who commands his followers through fear; some even attest he knows how to lay the curse of the Evil Eye upon his foes. Despite the pirates' extortion of the villagers, Florezentina has been lax in taking action, as the dread captain is in fact the brother of an influential local merchant, Ysidro Diaz - he does not profess the relationship openly, but his loyalty to his family is stronger than his moral compass. Fed up with the indifference of their lords, some villagers have decided to take the law into their own hands, with the village of Cobanes (hex 052.022) training a well-armed militia that has even made retaliatory raids of its own.

Art by Matthieu Papy

Not all threats are human. The waters of the Lake Country are home to many salamanders, many of which grow to great size, and they have even been known to topple barges if disturbed. Some Old Faith cults in the area worship these creatures, and one particularly large specimen dwells in a pool beneath an old shrine (hex 051.023). Farmers and fishermen from nearby villages secretly meet at this shrine to pay homage to the creature - and sometimes, offer it victims as tribute so that its anger may be placated.

Finally, there is one floating garden on a lake north of the hacienda (hex 055.021) that has long been abandoned and overgrown. This is the Island of Dolls, for dozens of dolls hang from the trees. The island was once inhabited by a hermit, who one day found a young girl drowned at the shore, holding a doll. As a memorial, he hung the doll from the branches. But he still heard whispers in the night, haunted by the girl's spirit. He tried to appease her by hanging more and more dolls from the trees to grant her spirit company, but the voices never stopped. Finally, he went mad and drowned himself in the water at the same place he found the girl's body. Today, many of the locals refuse to go near the island, and those brave enough to set foot on it swear they have heard voices on the breeze. And the dolls seem to move when no one is looking...

Friday Encounter: In Their Footsteps

This encounter is best used in or near a settled area. It will work best if the PCs have had some time to build up a reputation, and they should have performed great deeds that have become known to the people, preferably those in the area they are currently in (whether that is a town they use as their home base, or a town they are moving on from after a quest nearby).

Some distance down the road after they leave town, the PCs should be approached by a boy, Milo Oleastor. He is about ten years old, with a dirty face and a rusted old sword (an heirloom of his family from a great-grandfather who fought in a long-bygone war) trailing at his side, too big for him to comfortably carry. Word of the party's deeds has reached his ears, and he was spellbound by the feats of heroism and grand adventures they could accomplish. His family chided him, citing the dangers of life on the roads and insisting that he had better things to worry about, like tending to chores on the family farm - but he had already made up his mind. Looking to live such a life of excitement for himself, he decided to run away from his humble homestead at the outskirts of the town to join the party, hoping that he could become as great a hero as they!

Milo, of course, is no stronger or more capable than a typical child of his age, and has the stats of a commoner. Though he wields a sword, he is notably untrained in it and it is too heavy for him to use effectively, and he blunders with it in combat. Nevertheless, he has been led so far astray by tales of heroism and chivalry that he will not let this stop him. He displays an almost foolhardy level of valor, believing himself capable of taking on any foe, and should the party encounter danger, he will be the first to charge headlong into battle, with no heed to the consequences.

Naturally, Milo's actions will likely make him as much of a danger to himself as any enemy. Many PCs will likely wish to return the boy to his family, or else leave him in another safe location, for his own protection. The real challenge to this will be convincing him to abide by this. He will speak of the PCs with awe and admiration and believes it to be an honor to accompany them, and it will be a great disappointment to be rejected. He will not, however, let that quench his dreams of high adventure - if the PCs attempt to abandon him, he will make it clear that he will become a great hero on his own if he has to. The challenge will be to leave Milo some place safe before he gets himself killed, without letting down his spirits in the process - of course, some parties might wish to keep him around, perhaps providing him with some training to better hold his own, or else counciling him to stay out of trouble.

Optionally, if one wishes to add another complication to this encounter, if the PCs attempt to return Milo to his family home, they might find it burned to the ground in an attack by bandits, orcs, a dragon, or some other threat. Not only will this embolden him with a desire for revenge (and make him all the more likely to risk his life), it will also mean the PCs won't be able to go to the most obvious and accessible option to kep him out of trouble, necessitating they think outside the box.

The Shrine of the Most Holy Death

Founded as it was by Taldameeri exiles, the culture of Valossa has much in common with that of Taldameer, but influences from the natives of the islands have allowed it to develop into something all its own. The Taldameeri influence is strongest in Porto Libre, but even there, one will see some things unlike anything on the mainland. One particular way in which the two cultures differ is in their veneration of Morthanos.

On the mainland, the worship of Death is a grim and dour affair. Black is the color used in the overwhelming majority of his temples and icons, and his clergy is called upon to perform last rites for the departed to help them find passage to the Land of the Dead. The cult of Death is particularly strong in Taldameer, where his Grand Temple sits in the city of Olarra. In Porto Libre and its surrounding lands in southern Valossa, there are a number of temples and monasteries devoted to Morthanos that practice the quiet seclusion and mournful colors of the Olarran orthodoxy. But further afield, there can be found a cult of Death quite dissimilar, but no less powerful.

This cult is based out of the city of San Catrina, which sits above the deserts that characterize much of western Valossa, and the temple of Death there is almost as large and just as popular as that in Olarra. Rather than dressing in dark vestments and conducting rites in whispers, however, the Valossan cult of Death favors vivid colors, elaborate patterns, and an almost festive atmosphere. Their priesthood preaches that death is not something to be feared, but celebrated, as a natural part of the life cycle and as the moment the soul of the deceased reunites with their ancestors. Priests of Death can be seen walking the streets with masks and painted faces depicting many-colored skulls, and altars to placate wandering ghosts with offerings of fruits and liquor can be found on any street corner. But nowhere is San Catrina more festive than on the occasion of Samhain.

On this day, Valossans celebrate both the rightful guidance of Death, who keeps the workings of the world in motion, and their ancestors who have since made the passage to the Land of the Dead. At just about every dinner table, a seat is left for the spirits of the ancestors when they wander the Mortal Realm on this day, and the memories of the dead are celebrated with stories and toasts to their accomplishments. Candies in the shape of decorated skulls are often passed out by the cult, as offerings of good fortune and protection.

It has been argued that these traditions show a closer link to the ancestor worship of Sonderlund than to conventional Morthanos worship, leading some scholars to propose a syncretic origin tracing back to the beliefs and rituals of Old Faith believers that dwelled on the Valossan islands before the founding of Porto Libre. Even the veneration of the god themselves takes on a very different form - in Valossa, it is not uncommon for Morthanos to be perceived as a goddess, appearing as a skeletal woman draped in robes.

Relations between the Olarran and San Catrinian cults of Death have been shaky. The official statement of Morthanos's cult is that, although the rituals, practices, and perceptions of the Valossan heterodoxy may be unusual, they do not contradict the revelations of the patriarchs of Olarra, and the Valossan death goddess is merely Morthanos in another form. However, some traditionalists find the festive atmosphere surrounding the solemn occasion of death distasteful - and this has led to friction between San Catrina and Porto Libre, where the Olarran traditions are more common.

The cult of San Catrina has been gaining favor in the capital, however. Within the last decade, a shrine to the Lady of Death - the Shrine of the Most Holy Death - was erected in the Temple District of Porto Libre, tended to by a maiden, Teofilia Rosario, whose aunt was a devotee of the Valossan tradition before her, but who kept her worship to the privacy of her own home. Teofilia's shrine represents the most powerful presence the San Catrina cult has held in Porto Libre proper, and despite opposition from Olarran sects, it has grown a sizeable congregation of its own. Some clerics have attempted to stop this cult in its tracks before it grows to rival their own - but rumors speak of ill fortune following those who dishonor the Shrine, and few are willing to test them.

Furthermore, the cult of San Catrina has even begun to expand beyond the isles. Valossan pirates introduced the practices to the ports of Taldameer and the City-States, where they have taken a limited foothold. In these lands, the death goddess - dubbed the Thin Lady - is often perceived as an entity distinct from Morthanos. And this belief has led to her cult becoming popular among criminals and outlaws, who feel it unwise to pray to more conventional gods in conducting underhanded acts. But surely invoking a goddess not recognized by the Pantheonist cults would not bring such inauspicious fortunes...

Nobility of Valossa

Valossa may be a republic, but it is a noble republic, and it does not hold that all men are created equal. The islands have their own class of powerful and influential families, drawn from various sources. Some of these are branches of noble houses from Taldameer and elsewhere, and some have relocated from other lands in generations past. Others, however, came from more ignoble beginnings. Some of the most respected and resplendent Valossan nobles are descended from the pirates who settled Porto Libre.

Others were military officers rewarded for their service to the Kingdom, during its short tenure, with plots of land in the conquered territories of the islands following the Great Unification under Martinho I. Many of these new fiefs were created in the unsettled territories of sparsely populated Valossa, and were established as haciendas - countryside villas managed by the nobility. Though some haciendas belong to nobles or monasteries that reside there, others are subject to families dwelling in the settled core, sometimes many miles away, and tasking a seneschal with the day-to-day management of the estate.

However, there are also cases where newly appointed nobles were placed in jurisdiction over existing settlements that were largely independent prior to the Valossan conquest. Often, this has led to tensions growing between the unfamiliar elite and the people who had lived there for generations. Some times, this has led to families being displaced from their land and replaced with retainers from Porto Libre - and more often than not, it has led to resentment brewing between the people and their lords. The armies of Porto Libre might be able to exert power close to home, but with the islands as wild as they are and the settlements so scattered, some further-flung villages have become hotbeds of turmoil, with the local nobility struggling to contain unrest.

The most prominent privilege of Valossan nobility is membership in the Grand Council - the body of politicians responsible for electing officials to preside over the Republic, including the Doge. Though some seats are allowed for clergy, merchants, and guildsmen (and these seats typically have limited terms, while those for nobles are for life), the majority can only be drawn from the landed gentry. A select twelve members of the Council, chosen by lot, are inducted into the Doge's Council. Matters of official policy are voted on by the Grand Council, though the Doge casts two votes and breaks any ties. When not voting on important issues, they also serve as advisors to the Doge. Though the Grand Council elects its membership, many of its members have strong support among the populace, and in the cities of Valossa it is not uncommon for officials to have mobs at their disposal to pressure others into securing their power, however under the table it may be.

Of course, many noble families have their own agendas. Not all are loyal to the Dogaressa. The world of politics is a cutthroat one, for all the pomp and grandeur of noble courts, and there are many factions in Valossa's governance. Some families aspire to coveted positions in the Doge's Council, or even the seat of Doge, and are willing to take whatever measures to attain such aims. Some feel the Dogaressa is unfit for her position, and others just want that sort of power for themselves. Then you have those who have their loyalties with the Kingdom - who cling to the fading memories of a Valossa united under a royal dynasty, and wish to see it restored. For some, they see that crown on their own head.

Valossan Noble Families

Here are a select few noble houses of Valossa:

• 
  House Margarita is the most powerful of Valossa's noble families - the Dogaressa, Marilisa Margarita, comes from the family, and she comes from a long line of influential figures in the city's history, many of whom have served on the Doge's Council. In light of the tumultuous history of Valossa under the Kingdom, Marilisa intends to uphold the Republic's good name and to expand its influence with other powers - though, as a result, she has made it a priority to tighten her grasp over the islands, which has not been universally welcomed by her fellow nobility, particularly those who prefer the freedom their distance presents them. Her rule is a strict and shrewd one, though the fact that she has left her father in charge of the Doge's Guard has not escaped allegations of nepotism - and there are members within her own family who have ties to the criminal underworld, hoping to use it as a means to gain power for themselves, or to usurp her.

• 
  House Vilalba exerts considerable influence from Porto Libre, with its head, Marco Vilalba, serving on the Doge's Council. A personable man loyal to the Republic and without much in the way of his own ambitions, Marco is known as a charming and well-cultured man who enjoys the company of his peers at many a grand gala. Secretly, however, he also serves as the Dogaressa's spymaster. He owns a number of haciendas in the countryside that report to him to monitor the movements of the more far-flung nobility, and hopefully keep them in line; he also has a sizeable merchant company in his pocket that he uses to keep an eye on goings-on in foreign powers. An open secret is that his merchants are involved in arms smuggling on the side.
• 
  House Torian also has a finger in the pie of the Doge's Council, with Hector Torian occupying one of its seats. However, the family has long been retainers to the now-extinct House Drac - the same family that ruled over the Kingdom of Valossa - and old habits die hard. Though the days of the Kingdom are growing further and further in the past, Hector clings to its glories into his old age, and asserts the divine right of the Drac family to rule even if the late Ciriaco I remains unpopular for his corruption and excesses. He hopes that one day an heir to the throne may be found, and that Valossa would be returned to its glories. Other, younger members of his family, however, are growing impatient, and some have entertained the idea of making a grab to install themselves as the royal dynasty.

• 
  House Esparzano is a newer family, descended from a general who won honor in the conquests of Martinho I and was awarded with an estate in the newly-claimed countryside. Though it has not held its prestige for as long as others in Valossa, its matriarch, Eloisa de Esparzano, asserts that this makes them no less important. Content to carve out a sphere of influence for herself beyond the reach of Porto Libre, she has been focused on establishing alliances and marrying off her children to fellow hacendados to expand her reach. Those from the capital regard the Esparzanos as rougher, barbaric sorts who have not adopted the manners of their position and still favor in the company of woodsmen and vaqueros, while the Esparzanos themselves feel that they are living their life as they will and that the idle gentry have grown soft in their days of languishing, unused to the demands of arms of a true knightly house - and they don't take kindly to such fools telling them what to do.

Los Vaqueros

Valossa is a sparsely populated, arid land, with vast plains of scrubland and desert. The rough terrain has limited settlement - but life finds a way. The lords of the land have taken to using the extensive pastures to graze great herds of cattle, but when these animals are distributed over such a wide area, with settlements few and far between, managing them presents a task of its own. This has led to the development of a particular kind of herdsman - the vaquero.

Though vaqueros have their roots in Taldameer - which possesses a similar climate - it is in Valossa where they grew to become an important class in their own right. The vaqueros are mounted herders, trailing cattle over the plains, herding them from location to location, and defending them against threats. Some vaqueros are subjects of a feudal lord and tend to their animals, while others live a nomadic life, traveling from manor to manor to find work for the highest bidder. Because of the long distances that must be traveled, horsemanship is an important skill to these herdsmen, and their business is often a family affair, with vaqueros raising their children in the saddle from a young age. The bond between a vaquero and their horse is like family, and the animal is carefully trained to obey its master as if they were of the same mind.

Because of the vast amounts of empty space they must travel, vaqueros are self-sufficient people, often living off the land when they are forced to make camp overnight. This, in turn, has shaped their culture. They have a reputation as rugged, fiercely independent outdoorsmen - which can inspire respect and scorn in equal measure, as the nobility of the isles often view them as coarse, barbaric folk. But the vaqueros take this with pride. They drink and sing with one another, boasting of their skills with the rope and rein, and often engage in contests of bravery and endurance - riding bulls, flipping steers by their tails, and jumping from one moving horse to another. Sometimes, teams of vaqueros in service to rival houses may meet in such contests to defend the honor of their lieges, and to show off their own exploits.

This is not to say that vaqueros are never to be feared, of course. Though the nature of their work means they are more free and mobile than serfs, it does little to deter them from lives of crime. Some vaqueros live as bandits and highwaymen, preying on the roads and demanding tribute from the isolated towns of the prairies. But so too do vaqueros often serve in the militias of their masters' fiefs, putting their skills in riding and self-defense to the art of war. They train with many weapons, including the machete, arquebus, scythe, and bola, with many of these being favored for their utility as tools as well as arms.

To some, they are brigands. To others, they are as noble as any knight. But what unites the vaqueros is a common way of life, and one can always recognize another who rides beneath the same sky.

Background: Valossan Vaquero

Skill Proficiencies: Animal Handling, Survival

Tool Proficiencies: Rope, one gaming set of your choice

Languages: Taldameeri

Starting Equipment: 50 feet of horsehair rope, a set of common clothes including a wide-brimmed hat, a riding horse, and a pouch containing 10 GP.

Feature: Code of the Plains. You share a common and unspoken code with your fellow vaqueros, one that all your comrades know and understand. If you ask another person if they are a vaquero, they must answer truthfully. In addition, if you challenge another vaquero to a duel, they are honor-bound to accept the offer and any stipulations you set.

Friday Encounter: The Traveling Players

This encounter may be used when the PCs are traveling a road, or in a town. Either way, they should come across a troupe of traveling carnival performers, either passing through the same route or performing in a settlement they are stopped in. If the PCs stop to engage with the performers, they will find out they coincidentally happen to be traveling in the same direction the party is. Considering that safety on the road is not always a guarantee, the idea of traveling together will no doubt seem appealing - the performers will gladly allow the PCs to ride in their wagons to give their feet a rest, and if the PCs seem like able fighters, the performers will be happy to have them close at hand to defend them against attack.

While traveling with the performers, they will be happy to provide the party with meals and a ride at no cost. All they request in return is the PC's aid. The party will be expected to help with chores around the camp, and the performers will count on them to defend them if they are ever attacked. They also will be eager to hear stories from fellow travelers, pressing for details on any quests the party has embarked on.

If you so choose, you may want to run a combat encounter with the PCs defending the performers, either on the road or if their camp is attacked in the night. However, the main purpose of this encounter is to give the party a chance to interact with interesting NPCs and for them to impart rumors. You may stretch out the period where the players are traveling with the performers as much as you like and as much as you have material to draw on.

The performers include:

• Elisa Adalo, the ringmistress. A boistrous woman with a penchant for theatrics and a heart to put on a good show, always wanting to send the crowd home happy. She pushes the other performers to live up to her high expectations, and many of them secretly resent her and talk about her behind her back - in no small part because she never seems to turn her sense of showmanship off, and she acts in a dramatic and larger-than-life fashion even when it isn't called for. Has heard rumors of a valuable treasure in the wilderness near their next destination.
• Ambrosio Tapia, the actor. He plays the role of one of the innamorati (the lovers) in the commedia dell'arte, usually taking the role of the leading man in a given show. He is a natural talent whenever he sticks to the script, and assumes roles with passion, but when off the stage he is a hopeless nervous wreck and struggles to compose himself in unfamiliar and unexpected situations. He enjoys acting because it gives him a chance to find some order in his life; as long as he has a routine he can stick to, he knows what to expect and how to respond. Would love to become more confident in life, and seeks magic that would make him braver.
• Marta Basurto, the actress. Plays the other half of the innamorati, and usually partners with Ambrosio as the female lead. An avid reader of chivalric romance, and likes to imagine herself as a damsel to be wooed by a brave knight. Though she plays opposite Ambrosio, she finds his nervousness bothersome and would never imagine the two of them courting one another in real life. She delights to hear any stories of heroic exploits the PCs might have to offer, and might end up falling for one of them if they could prove themselves more chivalrous of a hero than Ambrosio - whether the PC in question wants it or not.
• Lorenzo Vilar, the magician. Though he looks the part of a traditional wizard, with a long beard, pointed hat, and robes adorned with moons and stars, he possesses no actual magical knowledge, and his performances are mere illusion. He is a greedy and unscrupulous man who will uphold that his magic is real to gullible audience members, hoping to con them out of a few coins if he can convince them of his power (he may demand extra payment to show off certain tricks, for instance, or even threaten to curse them if they don't pay). If anyone in the party is an actual magic-user, he will insist they use their spells help him lend some credence to his performances - or perhaps he will even have them take his place, if he thinks there's money to be made from it. His home town is far from here, but he used to hear the streets were haunted by a ghost that sought vengeance for their murder many years ago.
• Geraldo Hernandez, the weapon-master. A former mercenary skilled in swordplay and archery who displays his talents on the stage with demonstrations, and will take on anyone bold enough to see if they can beat him in combat - for a fee, of course (he uses quarterstaves for this so as not to draw blood). Though quick with a blade, he is slow-witted and easily deceived, and the other performers have taken to playing jokes on him. He has a magic ring that gives him great intuition and makes him hard to sneak up on (Advantage on Perception checks opposed to Stealth checks) - he keeps it closely guarded, keeping it on him even when sleeping. This has frustrated the other performers, as it gets in the way of their pranks, and they would be happy to have him parted from it.
• Leira Castillo, the fire-eater. She takes pride in her skills and is happy to demonstrate them even off the stage - largely because she enjoys disturbing people with her freakish talents just to see their reactions. She has the attitude of someone who's seen it all and is hard to shake, living life as it comes, and often seems lethargic even when reacting to something incredible - after all, life on the road is nothing if not eventful. She claims to have caught a glimpse of a unicorn on the road from the town where the performers met the PCs, though no one else saw it and no one knows if she's just leading newcomers along - it wouldn't be the first time.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

The other part of the performers' price for the PCs is that, when they arrive at a new town, they expect the PCs to join in their performance. They will attempt to determine if any PCs have useful skills or acts they could perform, and they will insist on them making it their act - Elisa will make sure to introduce them in her typical bombastic style. In addition, the performers might take inspiration from any stories told to them by the PCs and adapt them into their stage shows - often taking liberties with their depictions of events, and having themselves take the roles of the PCs in their reenactments if they feel it would make things more interesting.

Each time the carnival stops at a town (you may use your judgment as to how often this happens or use an existing map for your setting - though it is helpful to remember that in most parts of medieval Europe, there was at least one village within a day's distance of any other), you may run a skill challenge in order to see how well the performance is received. Each PC makes a DC 12 Performance check (or another skill or proficiency, if more appropriate to the context):

• If more than half of the party passes their checks, the show was a success, and the performers pay them a portion of the gate accordingly. Each PC receives 1d10 GP.
• If less than half of the party passes their checks, the show was a dud, and the townspeople were less generous with their donations. Each PC receives 1d8 GP.
• If all the PCs pass their checks, the show was a resounding success, and the townspeople are willing to pay extra! Each PC receives 1d10x5 GP.
• If all the PCs fail their checks, the show was so bad the carnival was booed off stage and run out of town by an angry mob. No one gets paid, and the PCs are forced to leave town immediately - if they still have unfinished business there, they'll likely have to use a disguise to sneak back in, unless they want to be recognized as talentless charlatans.

In fact, if the party proves to be lucrative enough to the performers, they might insist they stay on board even after they reach the destination the PCs were after. Then it's a matter of convincing them to let them go...

Minor Gods of the Lunar Lands

In a previous series of posts, I described the most prominent deities in my setting. But these are merely the most prominent deities. The Lunar Lands has innumerable gods, and just about every concept has its own patron. Though there may be a select few gods with relevant enough or broad enough portfolios to be worshipped just about anywhere, that is by no means an exclusive list.

In my opinion, pantheons do much more for the worldbuilding of a setting than they do for it mechanically. Gods are - or at least they should be - much more than just things that grant certain spells to clerics. The role of gods and religion in a setting influences its culture, its politics, its stories, even its metaphysics. Even if a god doesn't seem relevant for a PC to worship, it can still be useful for them to be detailed for the purposes of developing a setting. What are there cults like? What are their philosophies and their practices? What myths are they involved in? Did they shape any events in the setting? Answering these questions makes the gods a much deeper part of the world than something only interacted with for gameplay purposes, and it gives the world itself far more depth as a result. It can even be a source of some great drama and adventure hooks, and some interesting NPCs.

Here are three of the more obscure gods of my setting, ones that might not be worshiped by most PC clerics, but ones worth throwing into the background to liven things up regardless.

Camalos is the god of chivalry and knightly virtue. It is said that he devised the chivalric code to set out the rightful conduct and values of a noble warrior, and though all knights swear fealty to their liege, so too do they also swear an oath to Camalos, as the First Knight, to uphold his tenants. Usually, he is seen as the image of a perfect knight and the personification of chivalry, acknowledged by knights and paladins as a role model regardless of their patron deity; it is rarer for him to be worshiped in its own right - though the headquarters of every knightly order holds a shrine to Camalos, and he does have a small but devoted cult of his own.

The priests of Camalos take the chivalric virtues (such as valor in battle, honesty in all regards, respect for women, and deference to one's liege) as rules to live by, and often practice martial training. Curiously, although Camalos's monks and nuns are celibate, they are allowed (arguably encouraged) to pursue trysts with secret lovers, insofar as these feelings are not consummated, and insofar as no one else learns of such affairs - after all, chivalry holds that courtly love is the purest love of all.

• Camalos's holy symbol is a knight's helmet, sometimes displayed as a charge on a cleric's coat of arms.
• The leader of Camalos's cult is Patriarch Turias III, who presides over an abbey in the City-State of Lynnery. This monastery is built below a great cliff face, into which Camalos himself has carved the tenants of knighthood.
• Alignment: Lawful Neutral
• Domains: Order
• Oaths: Crown, Glory, Devotion
• Sacrifices: Rewards of knightly quests (beasts slain, treasures won, lances broken in a joust, etc.)

Gwennert is the god of dogs. All dogs worship him as their king, and he is considered the master of stray dogs who do not have a master of their own. As such, many cities have cults of stray dogs that gather in alleyways to pay homage to their patron. His cult preaches the values of absolute loyalty to one's master, something more valuable than life itself; a loyal follower must obey their master regardless of if it makes sense to do so, as the dog who waits for his master even after the master has died. Although his teachings make more sense to dogs, he nevertheless has a contingent of followers among other races, who see the relationship of a dog and its master as a reflection of that of a vassal to their lord.

As legend has it, Gwennert was once a mortal hound belonging to a knight, who was tasked with guarding his newborn son. One day, Gwennert's master found the hound covered in blood, and aghast at the sight that the dog had seemingly killed his child, slew him - only to find that the baby was alive in his crib, with a dead wolf laying at its feet. Mourning his dog's loyalty, the knight constructed a shrine where he was buried, and the other gods, it is said, elevated Gwennert's soul to the heavens to watch over all canine-kind (one heresy claims that the cult was started by that knight in order to memorialize the dog. If you speak dog, never claim as much when a dog can hear you). Because of this, Gwennert is sometimes worshiped as a protector god, and prayed to for safety of children or good luck in childbirth.

• Gwennert's holy symbol is the paw or nose of a dog, worn as an amulet.
• Gwennert's cult is led by a hound named Nosewise I. He resides at the shrine where the dog-god's body was buried, located in Vardessy outside the village of Harlesburg, and a shrine maiden named Reika acts as his interpreter. However, followers of the cult insist on the fact that the dog is the Patriarch, not the maiden, and she only delivers his revelations to the people.
• Alignment: Lawful Good
• Domains: Life, Peace, Nature. Or just play a Really Good Dog.
• Oaths: Redemption, Devotion
• Sacrifices: Bones

Usalia is the goddess of wrestling. She oversees all contests of grappling and is said to guide champions to victory, and it is common to open a wrestling match with a prayer to her. She favors those who have honest faith in their strength and show good sportsmanship to others. Most Pantheonists on the mainland consider Usalia to be the daughter of Kord, the god of strength, and she is largely revered within his cult. However, there is a particular mystery cult in Valossa that worships Usalia directly.

According to this cult, Usalia was actually born to a mortal family in the hills of northern Valossa, where she grew to become a champion wrestler, undefeated by any opponents. However, she would die suddenly of illness. Feeling her glory was yet unfinished, Usalia challenged Morthanos himself to a wrestling match for her soul; although he ultimately won, it was an epic battle, and one where she broke the reaper's leg. In response, she was granted a seat among the gods instead of being sent to the Land of the Dead. Valossan depictions often show Morthanos as walking with a limp for this reason.

The Valossan cult of Usalia is known for their practice of ritual combat, incorporating grand theatrics into mock bouts during rituals. Members of the cult wear elaborate masks and assume anonymous identities in public, only revealing their true face if bested in a match where they have wagered their mask; to unmask a follower in any other circumstance is one of the cult's gravest sins. Though these matches are largely staged, the members of the cult train in the arts of grappling, and it would be a mistake to underestimate one in battle. In fact, one of Usalia's most celebrated saints was a silver-masked paladin who performed many heroic deeds with his bare hands, including overcoming a coven of vampiresses and forcing a ferocious blue demon to do his bidding.

• Usalia's holy symbol is a laurel wreath, as would be given to a victorious wrestler (either an actual one or a depiction thereof). In Valossa, a wrestling mask is often used instead.
• Usalia's Patriarch is a masked half-orc known only by the name of Tiburon, who oversees a temple in the village believed to be her home as a mortal. He is revered as the strongest wrestler in Valossa and the champion of the cult. If one was to best him in the ring, he would grant his position to them.
• Alignment: Lawful Neutral
• Domains: Strength, or use a Monk or a Tavern Brawler Fighter to represent a cleric of Usalia.
• Oaths: Glory, Conquest
• Sacrifices: A portion of the winnings of a wrestling match, or the mask of a defeated opponent (these are hung in the temple).

Freeport By Way of Mexico City

While I intend to focus on in-universe material for the Year of the Gazetteer, I wanted to give a closer look into the thought process behind Valossa, because in the development of my setting, I find its story one of the more interesting ones - and one that opens up some new avenues into how we think about worldbuilding.

As some of you may have recognized, Valossa and its capital Porto Libre are adapted from Green Ronin's excellent Freeport: City of Adventure line. When locking down details of my setting, the idea of a setting-neutral city with plenty of locations, NPCs, and adventure hooks to drop down into an existing campaign world appealed to me, and it was something I decided was worth tracking down. I'm pretty happy with the results. There's easily enough in the Pirate's Guide to Freeport alone to fill multiple campaigns, and that's not even the most recent version of the book; it's just the one I have.

There's one problem, though.

See that? That is Freeport, Maine. My home town.

It's not like it's a particularly obscure place as far as Maine goes, even. We get tons of tourists every summer. It's where LL Bean was founded, and I spent an embarrassing amount of time just hanging out at their flagship store in my youth (they have a fish tank). The point is, the images evoked by the name "Freeport" in my mind are hilariously mundane, and not at all what the fine folks at Green Ronin were going for.

Also, there's not really an English-influenced culture in my setting anyway, so I don't use direct English names often.

So obviously, if I was going to use it, the name had to go. And my first thought was to translate it into another language. I started thinking about other places that produced a lot of pirates, and my mind went to the Spanish Main. Porto Libre it was, then. Less Caribbean, more Gulf. Less rain-soaked streets and powdered wigs, more tiled roofs and sunny balconies.

An aside: Yes, before anyone asks, I know it should be Puerto Libre. I didn't catch that mistake until it was too late, and it stuck.

Naturally, this led me to place the city and its island environs off the coast of Taldameer, the resident Spain stand-in in my world. I still wanted Porto Libre to feel distinct from the mainland without losing its Spanish character, though. For a while, I was leaning toward drawing inspiration from the Balearic Islands (and I still do a little of that); conveniently, they themselves have a long traditon of piracy. But then I got an idea just stupid enough to work.

Porto Libre, I decided, would be the Lunar Lands' equivalent of colonial-era Mexico.

This period in history is a fascinating one, and one that gets little attention in the Anglosphere. You can see the last vestiges of feudalism in the noble estates and their industries, making it fit surprisingly well into a medieval framework. And the collision of indigenous mythologies with Catholicism gave rise to a rich folkloric tradition that continues to this day, even beyond the stuff everyone knows about like the Day of the Dead. That gives me plenty of material to work with already.

As I gave Porto Libre a facelift, I soon realized that the material given the Freeport books wasn't going to contain everything I wanted to explore. Lifting a name from the background, I expanded the Serpents' Teeth into the larger island of Valossa. I could still have sweltering jungles, but there would also be room for all the desert bandits, lonely cattle ranchers, isolated mission houses, and dashing swashbucklers one could ask for. If I run a campaign in Valossa there will be at least one NPC played by Danny Trejo and you are going to like it dammit.

Yes, it's a bit anachronistic. I know it's outside the late-medieval-Europe scope of the majority of my setting, and even more separated by space than it is by time. Yes, I know that I try to be relatively non-Flinstonist in my approach to worldbuilding, and the presence of Mexico within a couple days of Greece is going to raise a few eyebrows. But who cares? This is a fantasy setting - one heavily inspired by history and folklore, yes, but even though there's an attention to authenticity, it's not meant to be shackled to it. I've already mashed together parts of different time periods, if the fact I have a Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and an Abbasid Caliphate is any indication. A Mexico on top of that doesn't feel that weird.

It isn't like this is particularly new, either. Robert E. Howard, the man who pioneered fantasy worldbuilding because he liked writing historical fiction but took the "historical" part of that as a suggestion more than anything else, wasn't afraid to throw aspects of the colonial era and even later into the Hyborian Age - Pictland might be named for an ancient Scottish tribe, but it draws more influence from the frontier settlements found in Westerns. He himself might have based Zamora off of Mexico, as this article theorizes - and my discovery of that article was a big influence on deciding to go this route with Valossa.

In short - don't be afraid to think outside the box with your worldbuilding. Even if the majority of your setting is based on a particular region or era, there's no reason you can't incorporate pieces of another. In fact, it might help set your setting apart. A lot of people have expressed a desire to do something different from standard medieval European fantasy for their games, but many players find a complete departure from the norm jarring and difficult to adjust to. But if you decide to go halfway, and dump 17th century New Spain off the coast of 15th century Europe, suddenly you have something that feels different, but with all the comfortable touchpoints within reach.

From here on out, the Year of the Gazetteer's Valossa entries will largely focus on the parts of the Republic beyond Porto Libre itself. For information on the capital, I would recommend you go to The Pirate's Guide to Freeport, and just mentally replace everyone's names with the closest Spanish equivalent and all entries of "Sea Lord" with "Doge" (I prefer my silly one-off titles historically accurate, thank you). But there's far more to Valossa than just Porto Libre, and I hope you're ready to exploring it with me!

Isle of Swords

The Valossan Islands have been inhabited since time immemorial, with scattered villages and trading posts from mainland powers along the coast. However, the harsh conditions of the deserts, forests, and rugged hills further inland meant that for milennia, civilization was limited to isolated communities, and no one crown claimed the region. The rise of the Republic of Valossa as it stands today was a more recent one - and in the short years it has existed, it has seen its fair share of turmoil.

The rise of Valossa begins with its capital and largest settlement, the city of Porto Libre. It didn't take long for sailors in the Great South Sea to note that the southern shore of Valossa's main island made for an ideal site to moor their ships - it was close enough to the mainland to make travel easy, but not so close as to fall under the influence of any meddlesome bureaucrats, and its proximity to Taldameer, Golnir, the City-States, and Quel'Ahma meant that it was equally accessible to all the region's naval powers. Over time, traders from all these lands began to settle in the area, which grew and grew into a city in its own right. But the appeal of a city away from the reach of the crowned heads of the mainland inevitably drew attention from those with less savory interests - and Porto Libre became infamous as a haven of pirates, thieves, and cutthroats, where no merchants could be trusted to give an honest deal and one could expect a knife in the back if they made a wrong turn.

Despite such rumors, the city actually managed to conduct itself reasonably well, and stayed its course through the years. But among so-called civilized society, the perception of Valossa was a land fit only for rogues and criminals - which meant that it was often a destination for exiles. This, ironically, was what allowed it to become a power in its own right.

The man regarded as the father of Valossa, Mauregato Drac, was a fearsome pirate who, two hundred years ago, during the reign of Emperor Alberich II, was exiled from Taldameer and shipped off to Valossa, where it was thought the rabble would sort him out. To everyone's surprise, though, the captain pulled off a few miracles.

For one, he managed to unite the pirates of Porto Libre under his banner and turn them against Taldameer, establishing a fleet that laid waste to ports along the Great South Sea. The navies of Taldameer and Fiora quickly launched retaliatory forces to crush the rebellion in its tracks, expecting a swift victory over what they perceived to be a bunch of disorganized thugs. But that was when the second miracle happened - as luck would have it, Porto Libre was built on a naturally defensible harbor, and few of the heavy galleons Taldameer had deployed could enter the tight quarters of the port at a time, allowing the ships to easily be picked off.

The war dragged on far longer than anyone had ever prepared for, and in the end, Taldameer sued for peace, offering to withdraw its forces and grant Drac the title of Doge. And despite many expecting it to fall apart within a few years, the newly pronounced Free City of Porto Libre thrived, with the new Doge putting no shortage of effort into cleaning up the city's image and transforming it into an economic powerhouse, welcoming ships from all ports and enriching his coffers through the trade such arrangements brought.

For years, however, Porto Libre remained a free city, with the authority of the Doge not extending beyond its walls. Within the last century, that changed - when Martinho Drac, a descendant of Mauregato, was elected to the position of Doge, he fed his delusions of grandeur and, citing his celebrated heritage, declared himself King of a new Kingdom of Valossa, intending to unite the islands under his control. It took several years, and proved controversial even among locals, but the work paid off, with forces from Porto Libre conquering the formerly isolated towns of the isles and driving out foreign ports. The Kingdom would prove short-lived, however, and after the disastrous reign of King Ciriaco I and the subsequent succession crises, the decision was made for Valossa to once again become a republic, though retaining the territory taken under the Kingdom.

Today, Valossa is under the reign of Dogaressa Marilisa Margarita, elected from a council of noble families with prominent seats in the capital. The streets of Porto Libre are colorful, cosmopolitan, and bustling with activity, influenced as much by the cultures indigenous to the islands as by that of Taldameer, and beyond the reaches of noble haciendas, there have been many isolated frontier settlements established inland, particularly following the discovery of rich veins of gold in the northern mountains.

It is a land still in transition, and a land still feeling out the influence it can exert over its newfound territories. It is a land with a reputation for danger...but a land with a reputation for fortunes to be won as well.

Friday Encounter: The Charcoal Burners

Here's an encounter you can use to add some life to your game world, and explore some of the lesser-seen parts of your setting.

In my opinion, there's something to be said for mundane encounters. They serve as a reminder that there is more to the world than monsters and magic - that outside of the adventures of the PCs, there are still ordinary people living ordinary lives. They ground the setting and the character, which makes the fantastic seem all the more special when it's juxtaposed against a backdrop of mundanity - something I feel that a lot of officially published D&D material has gotten too far away from. If you depict certain professions in your games, then you've established that your setting has certain industries in it, which goes a long way toward making it feel more alive. Particularly when those industries delve into aspects of life we often see overlooked in stories.

One of these industries is that of the charcoal burner. Charcoal burning - that is, the practice of gathering wood and carbonizing it in a kiln to serve as fuel for other industries, like smithing and glassmaking - is one of the oldest professions in human history. It's quite an interesting one, too. Because charcoal burning in the pre-industrial era takes a long time, and because the temperature of the fire must be carefully controlled during that period, medieval charcoal burners would often live in huts in the woods where they could observe the process, and this led to them being perceived of as people on the fringes of society, viewed with suspicion. This provides plenty of fodder for fun interactions with NPCs, and could tie into worldbuilding if charcoal burning in your setting is associated with races, cultures, or castes viewed as outsiders. The reclusive and antisocial lives of charcoal burners often led to them being suspected of witchcraft - in a fantasy setting, that could even be true!

Despite all this, I can't think of any time charcoal burning has come up in fiction, let alone TRPGs. Most writers seem to think that everyone in the Middle Ages (either in real life or in a medieval fantasy world) was either a noble or a farmer, and that's doing a disservice to just how interesting the period was.

Let's change that.

The Charcoal Burners

This encounter should take place in a forested area on the outskirts of civilization. While traveling, the PCs should come across Lolor and Eral Zocikvaz, two dwarven brothers who make a living as charcoal burners. Perhaps they run into the brothers while they are out gathering wood for their kiln, or they might come across their camp.

Either way, the brothers are happy to run into unexpected company this far out in the woods. They introduce themselves to the PCs and explain their profession, noting that due to the isolation their job involves and the notion of dwarves as outsiders in human society, they don't often get the opportunity to speak to others. They have grown lonely and would be happy to have someone to talk to. Seeing that the PCs look like weary travelers, they invite them back to their camp to stay a while and warm themselves by the kiln, and perhaps even share a drink or two (they are dwarves).

If the PCs decide to follow the brothers to the camp, they will gather around the fire and share bowls of mushroom stew, eager to hear stories of the party's exploits; they are particularly curious about any fabulous treasures they might have won by their heroic deeds, particularly those they might have obtained recently - if they can see them, Eral notes, that's even better. For their own part, they will note sightings of troll tracks in the woods along the path the party is headed and advise them to be careful.

As the sky grows dark, Lolor produces a keg of dwarven ale - "a treasure of his ancestral lands," he calls it, despite the fact that the brothers have lived near a human village their whole lives and only obtained the ale from a passing trader, as Eral is quick to note. The ale is particularly strong, especially for those not used to it, and the brothers will insist on sharing it liberally, pressuring those who refuse by appealing to the virtue of hospitality. Anyone who consumes the ale must make a DC 12 Constitution save; if they fail, they will pass out as soon as they settle in to bed. Dwarves have Advantage on this save.

After the meal, Lolor invites the PCs to spend the night at the camp, noting that it is a safe place to rest, and that night is swiftly approaching. However, this is a part of their scheme. The Zocikvazes aren't just starved for company. Looking to add some extra revenue with which to buy trade goods from merchants, they hope to get the PCs drunk and then rob them in their sleep, hoping they won't notice their valuables missing until it's too late.

During the night, each PC must make a DC 20 Perception check. PCs who have passed out drunk automatically fail this check. Any PCs who pass the check will be able to feel the brothers rummaging through their belongings during the night and are woken up by the disturbance. The brothers won't attempt to rob the party if at least one member stays awake to take watch, though they'll insist such precautions aren't necessary.

If they aren't detected, the brothers will check each PC's inventory, taking anything small enough to not be immediately noticed as missing but that looks of value. They will favor magic items if any fit this description. Failing that, they will look to take one item worth 100 GP or more from each PC, or enough items to make up this value if there is no one item that fits. They will bid the PCs off on their way the next morning, wishing them good luck and not letting on about their plot.

If the brothers are caught in the act, they will plead mercy from the PCs, explaining their motives and stating they didn't think they'd be caught. Eral will offer his most valuable possession - a Wolf Sage's Signet (from The Book of Many Things - when attuned by a spellcaster, it allows the wearer to cast Augury, Freedom of Movement, and Pass Without Trace using Intelligence as a spellcasting ability once per day). He doesn't know its properties and believes it to simply be fine jewelry.