Friday Encounter: Thin Ice

Here's another Friday Encounter based on a favorite theme of mine - interesting environmental obstacles that present logistical puzzles to overcome. It is suited to a wilderness location or on the road in wintertime or in a cold climate, or potentially in a thematically appropriate dungeon.

The PCs' path forward should be blocked by a frozen river, lake, or other body of water sufficiently large such that circumnavigating it would be a non-trivial task. A DC 10 Survival check will determine that the ice is thin, and would break easily if sufficient weight was put on its surface.

Any creature that attempts to cross the ice must make a DC 20 Stealth check (to represent tiptoeing carefully across the surface) or risk breaking the ice. Creatures carrying more than 30 pounds of equipment (including worn items) have Disadvantage on this check, and those carrying more than 60 pounds fail it automatically. Creatures of Large size or greater also automatically fail the check. Creatures under a feather fall spell or similar effect automatically pass the check, as they are unnaturally light.

If a creature fails the check, the ice splinters underneath their feet and splits open into the freezing cold water below! The creature must then make a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw to try and jump away from the breaking ice. If that save is failed, they plummet into the water. They must then make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, they take 2d12 cold damage and one level of exhaustion; on a successful save, they take half damage, but still take the level of exhaustion. If a creature manages to dodge the ice breaking, they may be able to jump to the other side of the ice, or they may need to repeat the process multiple times before the ice is crossed, depending on the DM's choice.

Once a creature falls into the water, enter Action Time. The creature that fell into the water gains the Stunned condition for one round. After the first round, they gain the Restrained condition until pulled onto dry land, and must make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw at the beginning of each of their turns, taking 1d10 cold damage for every failed save. They may attempt to curl into a ball to conserve heat; if they pass a DC 17 Survival check, they gain Advantage on all subsequent Constitution saves until pulled onto dry land. Optionally, they may also sink five feet into the water at the beginning of each turn, depending on how deep it is.

The idea here is to force the party to confront a situation that can't easily be solved by throwing class abilities at it (well, unless your wizard knows how to levitate people). If the PCs want to cross the ice, they might need to leave treasure, horses, heavy armor, or other heavy assets behind, which may limit their resources if they run into anything on the other side. They may also decide it's better to spare the trouble and go the long way around, but who knows what challenges might be that way! A really clever party could even use the ice to their advantage - for example, luring pursuers over the ice to force them to break the ice and fall through. As always, it's best to leave it to your players to figure out a solution, and use your judgment on whether or not it should work based on sound logic.

The Order of the Hammer

The Levic Marches are often held as the last bulwark of true civilization between the lands of the Northmen and the more settled lands beyond. But with such close proximity - not to mention the great wealth of the League cities, which naturally draws unscrupulous eyes - the Northmen are as much a threat to the people of the Marches as they are trading partners. Raids on coastal villages are practically a yearly inevitability, and even sieges of the great harbors are not uncommon. Such threats call for study defenses - and that is how the Order of the Hammer came to carve out its presence in the Levic lands.

The Order is a Vardessian monastic tradition devoted to Torvald, the god of protection, walls, and boundaries. Its members are almost all of Vardessian origin, and its headquarters are in the Vardessian city of Eulen. However, it is most prominent and powerful in the Levic marches, for the knights of the Order have carved out an empire of their own there.

The Order of the Hammer is a martial order - that is, its membership is composed largely of paladins who train in combat as much as they devote their lives to prayer and meditation, though some of its members are half-brothers; non-combatant monks who assist their brethren with day-to-day chores and other support positions. Secluded in their cloisters, the members of the Order live an ascetic existence. Their conditions are austere, for they do not believe in honoring the gods with grand icons or ceremonies, deeming such frivolities to be distractions from the pursuit of a life in keeping with Torvald's will. They do not even celebrate feast days or fraternize with one another at meals, living a simple life of prayer and training.

It goes without saying that when their whole lives are sworn to defense, the knights of the Order are fierce fighters. They traditionally don great helms and surcoats bearing their arms; often, these helmets are adorned with great horns or wings to intimidate their foes on the battlefield. They have a reputation as stoic, silent, and fearless killing machines, showing no quarter, no mercy, and an almost inhuman courage that defies reason. Some say that it is Torvald himself who guides their blows, and that the knights do not consciously make any decisions in battle - though they are reluctant to speak on the matter (or on most things).

Generations ago, the Order of the Hammer was hired to support the League of Three Crowns against Northmen incursions, with the League paying them handsomely to move to the Levic Marches and establish castles there. Seeking to advance their standing after failed attempts to entrench themselves elsewhere, the knights agreed. Even after the threats were dealt with, though, the knights chose to stay, in a decision that was controversial at the time and has indeed led to the Order establishing a foothold so firm as to rival the authority of the League.

Not only does the Order still send a delegation to the League Council in Hynden, they govern a number of strongholds, at once fortresses and monasteries, throughout the Marches, exerting authority as feudal lords to support their upkeep from the tithes of their vassals. As such, there are swathes of the Levic Marches where neither the League nor the crown of Kvesland can overturn the rulings of the knights - but then, the knights are keen to remind them of why their presence is a desirable one when the next Northman raid comes. And many League merchants have relied on the knights to provide protection for their ships and caravans against bandits and worse things.

In turn, the knights of the Order have helped to shape Vardessian settlement of the Levic Marches. When hired by the League, they brought with them mercenaries and other disenfranchised knights to support their ranks, and many of their officers were rewarded for their service with land conquered in their wars. Some of their monasteries have even developed into towns and cities of their own. These settlements show the stoic and unflinching character of the Order - they are meticulously planned according to organized grids, surrounded by sturdy walls, and often found where forests were cleared and swamps drained, their very presence standing as an assertation of the Order's refusal to budge.

As an organization, the Order of the Hammer is formally led by Hendrik von Eulen, the Grandmaster, who resides in Vardessy. However, the knights active in the Levic Marches have by necessity formed their own hierarchy thanks to their distance from their homeland. The position of Landmaster designates the official in charge of all Order operations in the Levic Marches. This position is currently held by Sigismund von Kohlstein, who rules from Castle Mitgenburg. The Landmaster is a cold and merciless man devoted to asserting the Order's presence in the Levic Marches by whatever means are necessary. Firmly devoted to his goals, he sees nothing as unacceptable or excessive in the pursuit of protecting trade routes and settlements, and he is rightfully feared both in battle and in personal dealings.

The Levics

Though under the dominion of Kvesland, the native peoples of the Levic Marches are a group all their own, with a distinct culture and heritage unlike that of their Togarmic and Northern neighbors. With the rise of the League of Three Crowns and the development of great cities, many Levics have assimilated into the settled life of the Kvessians, Vardessians, and Togarmans that make up the League. However, the Levics are a reclusive and insular people, and deep in the woods and wilds of the Marches, there are still many villages where they hold true to the traditions of their ancestors.

The Levics are a rustic people, fair of skin and eyes, living primarily as hunters and subsistence farmers in small villages and homesteads on the cold and windswept moors. Visitors to these villages often describe them as austere in character, for the Levics are not artistic sorts, preferring simple, functional goods with little in the way of ornamentation. Though they are known as great traders of amber - in fact, much of the amber in the Lunar Lands comes from the Levic Marches - they do not make much use of it themselves; they do not even know where it comes from, only that it washes up on their shores and rivers.

However, they are known for finding whatever excuses they can to celebrate, and often times an entire village will come together to drink and sing long into the night. Among the common people, the drink of choice is mead, while Levic nobility traditionally prefer kumis - fermented mare's milk; a delicacy among the tribes, and one that is held as a mark of high status. They will even consume an entire roast horse at their feasts. Some suggest that this may point to a common origin with the Zelskys of Togarmah, but the two cultures are otherwise very different - indeed, the Levics are far more sedentary than the well-traveled Zelskys, and it is rare for them to leave their homes, fearing the night as a time of darkness and danger.

There may be some truth to this - the Levics are close neighbors of the Northmen, and long have they found the need to defend themselves against their raids. Though the western Levics, most notably the Rogdii tribe, are a warlike people, honoring warriors and conducting raids of their own (in no small part due to both influence from the nearby Northmen and by necessity to defend themselves against them), the more populous eastern tribes are more defensive, preferring to be left alone and keep to themselves. They will, however, fight fiercely if they feel they are threatened. In battle, they wear armor of leather and iron chain, and prefer sturdy wooden clubs and axes to swords. Since the coming of settlers from Vardessy, Togarmah, and Kvesland, such a stalwart way of life has only been bolstered by the periodic clashes between settlers and natives. The Levic tribes have fought many a war against the Order of the Hammer and other armies from the south, trading territory back and forth, and while the Levics are largely open to trade with League merchants, many elders fear that their way of life may be threatened by such outsiders.

In fact, the Levic need for defense has shaped their political structure. Although they are considered by southerners to be a barbarian people, the unique needs of the Levics has forced them to independently come up with something very similar to feudalism. The basic unit of Levic life is the village, often built on a hill with embankments and guard towers to watch for threats. Within a single village, decisions are made by a vote from a body of the housefathers - that is, the male heads of every household. To sit on such a council, and to enjoy other privileges such as the right to have multiple wives, a man must have his own home and his immediate family must be self-sufficient, without needing to rely on parents or in-laws. Groups of allied villages and their surrounding homesteads often band together, and these confederations are governed by both a king (who deals with all domestic business, including the maintenance of roads and ensuring production from the fields) and a warchief (who oversees defenses and is in charge of arming and directing the soldiers).

Art by Cao Viet

But no Levic council would be complete without the oversight of a druid. The Levics are Old Faith believers. Instead of discrete and personified gods, they worship their ancestors and the land itself. The druids tend to sacred groves and offer sacrifices (usually of crops, but sometimes of prisoners captured in battle) to the ancestors through immolation to ensure good fortune and rightful guidance; these groves are never to be set foot in by anyone other than a druid, or disaster will befall the people. Druids assist in governance by ensuring that policies are in accordance with the wants of the spirits, serving as judges in disputes, and attending to the Levic funerary rites, in which the body of the deceased is burned and their ashes placed in an urn, which is then buried in the ground.

Where the Levic Old Faith differs from other, similar customs practiced among hillfolk and Sonderlundings is in its degree of organization. The Levic tribes have a complex and codified priesthood, as formal as that seen among the Pantheonist cults. Each village has its own druid, and these druids all report to the Archdruid - a man who dwells in a sacred grove on an island in the Semna River in a state of permanent communion with the spirits, half-in and half-out of the Land of the Dead, in council with the ancestors. His entranced mumblings are interpreted by his apprentice, a powerful druid chosen to replace the Archdruid when his ancestors call to him and he leaves this mortal coil by burning himself alive. The current Archdruid is Segeband, and his apprentice is Rameka - a druid who has begun to fear his own mortality, believing that he is growing old with no sign of his master slowing down, and secretly plots to ensure he will become Archdruid before he dies one way or another...

Friday Encounter: The Hall of Winds

This isn't just your regularly scheduled Friday Encounter - this is also an entry in the Late Summer Blog Competition over at Monsters and Manuals. In the RPG community, noisms might well be one of my biggest influences. I fondly remember following his thread on rpg.net, back when rpg.net was cool, going through the entire 2e Monstrous Manual and discussing the potential worldbuilding implications for every single entry, and when he started his blog, it was one of the first OSR blogs I ever discovered. I've been following his work ever since. Needless to say, I'm a big fan of his - his terrible opinions on cloakers aside - and when he announced the competition, I was just as intrigued as he was by an interesting mosaic he found on a vacation. The thoughts kept flowing from there, and they turned into the next Friday Encounter!

The Hall of Winds

Due to the spatial implications of this encounter, it is best suited for a dungeon. The dungeon can be as big or as complex as you like, but there should be a few features you want to make sure you include. There should be a room somewhere in the dungeon where a series of hallways lead off in each of the eight cardinal directions, and each of those hallways should terminate in a room where a large brazen lion's head with gaping jaws is mounted on the wall opposite the entrance. Additionally, there should be another room elsewhere in the dungeon where a large circular mosaic is set into the floor. The mosaic depicts a compass rose in the shape of a sun, with the image of a sailing ship in the center, and on the wall behind it is another lion's head.

The section of floor the mosaic is on rotates and can be pushed - doing so causes it to turn slowly with a loud sound of stone grinding against stone that can be heard from any adjacent room. When the mosaic is lined up so that one of the points of the compass rose points toward the lion head on the wall, a strong gust of wind billows from out of the mouth of the lion head at the end of the hallway corresponding to that direction. The gust of wind is daunting and unstoppable, and can be felt all the way to the nexus of the eight hallways. It cannot be walked against easily. Any ranged attack made perpendicular to the direction of the wind is made with Disadvantage, and any ranged attack made against the direction of the wind will be turned backward toward the creature that made the attack instead of its intended target. The wind only stops if the mosaic is turned again.

This is a feature with plenty of open-ended applications. The wind could put out torches or other fires. It could spread a fire into another room. It could be used to guide an arrow across a chasm to a target on the other end that would ordinarily be out of reach. It could be used to blow an enemy into a pit. It could uncover a secret passage placed behind a tapestry. I'm sure you can think of plenty of ways this effect could be exploited, and I encourage you to think about how you can incorporate it into how you design dungeons and puzzles. I'm sure your players can think of plenty of ways to exploit it, too; don't be afraid to reward thinking outside the box!

Rogues of the Bartel

The Sea of Bartel, with major ports on its shores and rich trade routes going through its waters, is one of the most well-traveled waterways in the northwest. For just the same reasons, it has its fair share of pirates, thieves, and other criminal scum. Here are a few of the most wanted names in the Levic Marches.

Johann Storzenbecher

Perhaps the most storied of the Lionsails - the privateers hired by the Levic Marches to defend their trade routes in a past war, only to turn to piracy afterward - the tales of Johann Storzenbecher's exploits on the high seas can be heard in many a tavern. Though many of the legends are quite embellished, there is some truth to them - even to those that might seem outrageous. All agree that Storzenbecher is a very large man, of great appetites and of great mirth (his name comes from one of his favorite tricks, in which he can empty an entire mug of ale in a single gulp), but one who possesses a firm code of honor, treating his men as though they are his brothers. This, in fact, ties into what is perhaps Storzenbecher's most bizarre quality. When he was captured by authorities from the League of Three Crowns and sentenced to death, he secretly made a pact with a demon while awaiting execution, promising his soul in exchange for the ability to survive a beheading. Before being placed on the chopping block, he asked the executioner to set free any men who he could walk past after being beheaded - something the executioner, seeing it as a clearly foolish request, agreed to, only to be baffled when the pirate's headless body stood up and walked past the rest of his men. Now, Storzenbecher operates out of the city of Trudebeck, which shields him thanks to his reputation as a folk hero, and continues to terrorize the coasts from his ship, the Horn of Plenty, raiding League ships and distributing the wealth among the rural poor, who his crew are devoted to standing in defense of. He has reclaimed his head, but uses a girdle to attach it to his neck - if the girdle is loosened, both head and body will remain alive and conscious, but separate. Storzenbecher, of course, would never allow this to happen, and if it does, his crew would go to the ends of the earth to retrieve their captain's head.

Gunnar Half-Troll

Owing to their proximity to the lands of the Northmen, the Levic Marches are a frequent target of raids, and their longboats are a common sight in summer months. It is rarer, however, for Northmen to decide to settle. But Gunnar Vidarsson, better known by his title Gunnar Half-Troll, is one infamous exception. Already celebrated as a great warrior in his homeland, and boasting of many heroic deeds - his title is in fact a mistranslation; he is not actually half troll, but instead once cut a troll in half with a single blow of his mighty axe - he commanded many incursions into the Levic Marches, burning entire villages and bringing back great wealth to his clan. But this all changed when, in one raid gone wrong, his ship was sunk and his entire crew perished beneath the waves. Only Gunnar survived, clinging to a piece of driftwood that escaped the attention of the navy until he washed up on shore. Surviving by his wits and force of will, Gunnar wandered the Levic Marches until he came upon a village of orcs and decided to storm in and challenge their chieftain to a duel. The orcs, amused by the sight of a wet and unkempt man daring to challenge them, mocked him - until Gunnar disemboweled their leader right before their eyes. Under orcish custom, this meant Gunnar was the new chieftain of the clan, and they swore their loyalty to him as a greater warrior than their last. In the years since, Gunnar has managed to secure a new ship, the Wolfshead, and commands a crew of orcs to terrorize the seas. However, the Northmen back home believe him to be dead, for he has not set foot on the shores of his native land ever since his defeat - he knows that if he does so, he would be shamed for his failure in battle and for bringing his men to their deaths. Instead, he and his orcs lay claim to a number of caves and fortresses along the coast, which he travels back and forth between to hoard his treasure and evade the attention of the law - of course, even if discovered, one would have to contend with his ferocious orcish warriors.

Alwilda the Pirate Princess

The pirates of the Sea of Bartel come from all walks of life. Many are disenfranchised peasants or runaway slaves who have no other option. Many others are merchants who decided that taking the wealth of others by force was a quicker way to fortune than following the longer path of commerce. Others were mercenaries who, when spurned payment for their services, took matters into their own hands. But Alwilda, the so-called Princess of the Pirates, came from a much different origin - she is, in fact, the long-lost Princess of Kvesland. When arranged to marry a foreign king she did not love in order to further their families' ambitions, Alwilda instead set off on her own, together with a cadre of her handmaidens. They disguised themselves as men and snuck aboard a ship, taking it around the Sea of Bartel to several ports, until they came upon a pirate crew who had lost their captain and now languished without someone to guide them. Though she had turned her back on royal life, Alwilda still possessed a fine grasp of manners and had a mind for strategy, and the pirates quickly grew to recognize her as a natural-born leader, taking her as her new captain. She commands the Iron Helm, a ship known for the ironclad battering ram mounted on its bow, but, inspired by the name, she and her handmaidens donned iron helmets that covered their faces, both protecting their identities and giving them a fearsome appearance in battle. Fearing both the law and discovery by the Kvessian royal house, they travel back and forth between whatever ports will accept them, carrying most of their treasure on their ship so that they can flee on short notice if it becomes necessary.

The Black Adder

The Sea of Bartel is rightfully feared as a sea of pirates, but things further inland are not much safer. Even the wealthy League cities are rich with histories of thieves and cutpurses - and for nearly a hundred years, even the great city of Hynden has been struck with periodic heists performed by a phantom thief known as the Black Adder. The Black Adder has struck the treasuries of many nobles and temples throughout the city, stealing everything from priceless paintings to the relics of saints and leaving only a scroll with the image of a serpent in place of their quarry to make their activity known. No one has seen the Black Adder in the flesh, but such thefts have been going on for far longer than anyone could possibly be alive and active. Rumors abound - some believe the Black Adder must in fact be a guild of thieves that have been operating through the years, while others suspect a vampire is behind the crimes. The truth is not as elaborate - the original Black Adder made such an impact on the city that they became cemented in local folklore, and through the ages, many would-be burglars have styled themselves after the phantom thief as a means to add more mystique to their operations. Currently operating as the Black Adder is Esmerelda Rosavald, the daughter of a noble family housed in the city, who grew bored with a life of etiquette and idle pleasures and trained herself to keep the legacy of the phantom thief alive. She dresses in a black cloak and carries a rapier with her, but she hopes to rely on her reputation to back her up - she is not trained in swordplay and hopes that merely dramatically announcing herself as the Black Adder if caught will be enough to scare off any prying eyes. So far, she hasn't had the need to do such a thing, but only time will tell if she can carry on the legendary mantle she's assumed.

Friday Encounter: The Dragon's Clutch

Art by Punished Props Academy

This encounter can be used in the wilderness or a dungeon, or perhaps even on a road, assuming the road is a scarcely-traveled one (as the news of the findings involved would likely travel fast!). It's a fairly simple one, but one that would present the players with an interesting scenario with several solutions, and several complicating factors.

One way or another, the party should stumble upon a clutch of huge eggs, each about the size of a large man's head and deep red in color with a scaly texture. They are slightly warm to the touch, and ideally placed close to a source of heat - either in direct sunlight or over a pile of embers. A DC 12 Nature check will reveal that these are the eggs of a fiery dragon! A rare find indeed - and perhaps a tiding of further things on the horizon.

There are five eggs in total, and each of them weighs fifteen pounds. Due to their large size, they require two hands to carry. Furthermore, any time a creature carrying the eggs takes damage, they must make a DC 15 DEX saving throw. On a failed save, there is a 30% chance they will drop the eggs and shatter them against the ground. If a creature carrying the eggs is knocked prone, they must instead make a DC 20 DEX save, and there is a 50% chance of the egg breaking if the roll is failed.

As dragons are rare and storied creatures, their eggs command a hefty price on the black market. If the PCs can find an alchemist (10% chance for each village, 25% chance for each town, and 50% chance for each city), they will pay 500 GP for each egg for use in their magical experiments. Alternatively, the eggs may be used to cook a meal for an eccentric gourmand or noble - what better way to show off one's wealth and power than to serve dragon eggs at a feast? However, in order to do that, they'll need to transport the eggs in one piece - which may be easier said than done, especially if the eggs are found in the middle of a hostile environment.

Alternatively, the PCs may wish to hatch the eggs to raise the newborn dragons as their companions. A DC 15 Nature check will reveal that dragon eggs must be kept warm, and that mother dragons use their fiery breath to sustain their clutches. The eggs must be placed in fire for at least one hour per day, or the embryo inside dies. After 1d4 weeks, each egg hatches into a newborn red dragon. At this stage, the baby dragons are too young to sustain themselves in combat. They cannot attack and die immediately on taking damage. Additionally, they will make a lot of noise, demand to be fed often, set off sparks with their breath, and generally be a nuisance. However, if the PCs manage to raise and care for the dragons, they will imprint on them and grow into red dragon wyrmlings loyal to the party after one month.

However, if the eggs are removed, the dragons' mother, an adult red dragon by the name of Cinderclaw, will soon come back to the nest to find it disturbed - and she will seek vengeance. She will attack any settlements near where the eggs were found, trying to get her children back - or, failing that, to wreak havoc on those she deems responsible. If the PCs told any NPCs in these settlements about the eggs, those NPCs may blame the party for bringing devastation upon their home, and refuse to deal with them in the future.

The Lionsails

Lost Ark

The League of Three Crowns is an alliance of trade guilds, banded together to promote their mutual interests of trade in the Sea of Bartel. But each affiliated city is home to its own guild, with its own leadership - and those guilds do not always agree. Perhaps no better example of this is that of the Lionsails - regarded by some as the fiercest pirates in the Sea of Bartel and a menace to society, and by others as the truest heroes of the people.

The group that now calls themselves the Lionsails - so called because of their use of a lion emblem on their ships' sails - originated as a guild of privateers drawn from the League-affiliated guilds of the Levic cities of Annedal, Hassla, Smilgi, and Trudebeck - now dubbed the Four Shameful Cities by Hyndeners. The Lionsails were tasked by the Kvessian crown with running naval blockades and resupplying cities during a succession war between Kvesland and Togarmah. However, while most of the League supported Kvesland (as a victory by Togarmah risked cutting off trade routes), Hynden - the unofficial capital of the League of Three Crowns - favored Togarmah, and disapproved of the measure. Despite Hynden's authority, they were ultimately outvoted, and the motion was made to organize the Lionsails.

However, this arrangement left the Lionsails with plenty of support - in both coin and weapons - from the Kvessians, but little goodwill from the rest of the League. This was not a recipe for success. Deciding that if they wouldn't be recognized for their service they would take their arsenal elsewhere, the Lionsails turned to piracy.

The Lionsails saw their golden age two years ago, when they secured strongholds in several cities along the Bartel coast and disrupted many important trade routes, stymieing League operations. Their greatest victory, however, would come when they took control of the island of Hyegel, effectively turning it into their base of operations and launching raids from there. However, their dominance would prove short-lived. In an effort to restore order, the crown promised the knightly Order of the Hammer control over Hyegel as a fief if they would drive the Lionsails out - and, in a bloody battle, the knights were able to wrest control of the island, scattering the remaining ships.

Though their numbers and their resources have fallen from their glory days, the threat of the Lionsails is not over. They primarily operate out of the Four Shameful Cities, which remain fiercely loyal to them even against the authority of Hynden. As of yet, this has not been enough to lead to any schism thanks to the decentralized nature of the League, but some have mused it's only a matter of time. But there are ships and even fleets loyal to the Lionsail cause all up and down the Bartel coast, and the Four Cities can easily call on reinforcements if they feel the need.

One of the Lionsails' greatest assets comes from neither their coffers nor their cannon, but from the fact that they hold the support of the people. The Lionsails have taken to distributing an equal share of the treasure they win in their raids to the rural poor, and through this, they have won the favor of serfs, homesteaders, and Levic tribesmen who feel disenfranchised by the power held by the wealthy urban elite. Many a villager will think twice about reporting Lionsail activity to the authorities when it is the Lionsails that have done more for them than the League of Three Crowns ever has. In fact, with the native Levics feeling increasingly marginalized by the League, an alliance between them and the pirates could threaten Hynden's grasp on the Marches.

Elves of the Lunar Lands

It is the deepest and darkest of the forest that the mysterious and inscrutable elves call their home. Ageless and ethereal beings, they are held as creatures of bewitching beauty and great wisdom. However, they are held just as much with fear. Travelers passing through the forest are wise to beware the elves as much as they fear orcs, bandits, and wild beasts, if not more - for it is the elves who know the wilds, and who will fight with an undying fervor to defend it against incursions.

Tradition holds that elves and humans were made in the same vein, but while humans were created by the gods, elves were created by the whim of the fair folk. They still regard the fairies as their forebearers and their masters - and they have abided by the same traditions their ancestors had for untold generations. While humans settled, tilled the land, and built great cities and empires, under the provenance of the gods, the elves stayed in the woods, hunting and gathering. To this day, most still subsist in scattered woodland villages, living off the land. This is not to say they are primitive - they have strong literary traditions, told in poetry and song, with their elders chronicling the tales of bygone ancestors in meticulously memorized verse, and as they grow bored with daily toil over the course of their long lives, they often turn to contemplation of the universe; it is not uncommon for clans to meet to discuss philosophy, often in heated debates.

Art by Terese Nielsen

Elves do not view themselves as something greater than the natural world, but as a part of it. They feel that humans, dwarves, orcs, and other races have abandoned their calling in seeking to defy nature. In the elvish perspective, not only are they nothing more than particularly clever animals, this is not an insult, but a compliment. Humans, the elves hold, are pretentious and cowardly, refusing to accept their destiny as a part of the natural world - their short lifespans have made them short-sighted, and they have no appreciation for the big picture. It is the elves who are more honest and true to themselves. They subsist largely off of hunting, dress in furs, use arrows of bone and antler, and spurn the higher learning of men.

Still, elves are not without spiritual traditions. In fact, they are attuned to the mystic energies of the land - so much so that they are shaped by their environs, taking on the qualities of their homes. Their hair, for instance, may take on the color of leaves, changing with the seasons, and their personalities change with the weather - those in stormy climes are mercurial, while those in more mild regions are placid. They know the languages of beasts and of the earth itself, and their druids hold communion with trees and rivers to determine what the earth wants and to guide themselves in accordance with its whims. So too, they may call upon wild animals to aid them in hunts or in battle as freely as they might call a friend or cousin. Their belief system is most similar to the Old Faith, and indeed, they hold that the druidic ways are a corruption of their own, though obfuscated by the interpretations of meddlesome gods and foolish mortals who do not grasp the truth.

Art by iromonik

In particular, many elven tribes worship the earth as the communal body of their ancestors. As the body decays, they claim, its life force is absorbed into the greater ecosystem, and thus, every tree and beast and blade of grass contains the spirits of all the bygone elders of the elven race. When the druids consult with the spirits of the land, they are also communicating with their forefathers, who watch over the clans. One peculiar way this belief shapes customs is that elves view plants with great reverence, seeing them as living flesh, and it is a great taboo to harm them. Most do not consume vegetable matter or chop down trees unless it is necessary, instead subsisting off of meat. Fruits and berries, however, are okay, as being eaten is a part of their life cycle, as is harvesting materials from dead trees. To an elf, uprooting an herb from the ground and eating it is akin to tearing off a creature's limb and devouring it in front of them as they sputter and die. They do not place as much of a taboo on the consumption of animals, as the animal is killed before it is harvested - and "animals," in this case, includes humanoids, which plays into their burial rituals. Many elves will devour a share of the flesh of slain kinsmen to help sustain themselves, using the rest to fertilize the trees, and hanging their bones from their branches.

The elves are a reclusive people, and fiercely protective of their forest homes. They especially detest settled folk, who they view as threatening the natural order by their presence. Many an unfortunate logger has unknowingly chopped down the trees of an elven grove, and their mutilated corpses have been found hung from the trees as a warning to their people afterward. Humans often regard elves with wonder and fear - they are the creatures lurking in the dark that they warn their children of. And elves, in turn, spurn humans as clumsy, oafish, greedy, and blind to their own nature.

However, occasionally, an elf will be grasped by wanderlust and leave the confines of their tribal lands, perhaps driven by the sense of boredom that comes with immortality. If everyday life becomes too mundane and routine, they may seek out new experiences elsewhere. In human lands, elves are often treated with fear and suspicion. People suspect they will eat them, or steal their children, or place curses upon them - and this is not entirely untrue, but most elves that grow old enough to wish to seek out new lands are wise enough to know that their traditions will not always be welcomed.

In fact, most large cities have an elven quarter of some size, where elves have settled and established communities of their own. Often, these elves strictly do business with one another - humans want little to do with them, and they want little to do with the humans either. Their districts exist as self-sufficient enclaves; a city within a city. But as much as they are cut off from humans, they also share little kinship with their cousins in the woods, who usually view them as having strayed away from their true nature and been blinded by the foolish ways of mankind.

Background: Elven Tribesman

Prerequisites: Must be an elf or half-elf. Optionally, a DM may allow PCs of other races to take this background if they have, for whatever reason, been raised among elves, but this is rare.

Suggested Names: Finnish or Welsh surnames or place names. Some elven societies have a custom of renaming someone after their most shameful deed, in order to remind them to remain humble.

Skill Proficiencies: Nature, Survival

Tool Proficiencies: One type of musical instrument of your choice.

Languages: Elvish, one other language of your choice, plus see below.

Equipment: A hunting trap, a set of fur clothes, a musical instrument of your choice, and a beast of no greater than Small size.

Feature: Attuned to the Wild. Choose one class of animals or plants. This should be fairly broad, but not so broad as to be overly permissive - "songbirds," "conifers," and "even-toed ungulates" are acceptable; "mammals" and "yellow-bellied sapsuckers" are not. You know the language of these beings and can communicate with them. Whenever you have the option of taking a feat on leveling up, you may instead choose to learn the language of one other category of animal or plant. Additionally, if another member of your party has the option of taking a feat, they may instead learn one language that you know if you spend the time to teach them.

Friday Encounter: The Riddling Bridge

I've always been of the opinion that more DMs need to use riddles in their games. Maybe I'm biased - "Riddles in the Dark" is probably my favorite chapter of The Hobbit - but I will maintain that D&D is most fun when it's challenging characters (and players) on all levels, not just how well they can fight (or, more accurately, how good they can roll in combat). Riddles are a very fun way to give some problem-solving opportunities that can't be brute forced, and they don't require a lot of additional mechanics to facilitate, since they can easily be solved through the act of roleplaying. Plus, there's plenty of literary and mythological precedent.

The Riddling Bridge

This encounter can be used in a dungeon or a wilderness environment - anywhere it would make sense for there to be gaping pits or steep cliffs.

The PCs should come across a deep chasm, spanned only by a short but rickety bridge. Opposite the chasm is a creature with the body of a winged lion, and the face of a woman. This is Pherenike, a gynosphinx. She has dwelled by the side of this pass for many years, and she has grown bored - so bored, in fact, that she has taken a liking to toying with travelers. Like all sphinxes, she is quite fond of riddles, and has devised a deadly game.

When she catches sight of the party, Pherenike will welcome them to her abode and present the rules of her game. In order to cross the bridge, one member of the party must answer a riddle for each step they take (it takes about five steps to cross the bridge, so a PC that attempts to cross must answer five riddles to get to the other side of the chasm). For each riddle, they get three guesses. If they cannot correctly guess the answer, or if they at any point admit they don't know, Pherenike will upend the bridge, and they will plummet into the abyss to their doom.

As far as the riddles go, I've included a select few of my favorites, but don't be afraid to substitute your own, or add more if you need to. If you suspect your players might already know the answers, it's a good idea to come up with substitutes. Luckily, you can find riddles pretty easily online. Ideally, you want the players to think, not just remember the answer from hearing it before.

1. I am more powerful than any god and more evil than any demon. The beggar has me, the emperor wants me, and if you eat me, you die. What am I? (Nothing.)
2. He who makes me needs me not. He who needs me uses me not. He who uses me doesn't know it. What am I? (A coffin.)
3. I use fire, water, earth, and air to make a point. What am I? (A swordsmith.)
4. I have a foot but never walk; I have a mouth but never talk. I have a head but never think; I have a bed but never sleep. What am I? (A river.)
5. I lose my head in the morning but get it back at night. What am I? (A pillow.)

Ideally, answering the riddles should be as simple as the players answering them in character. Of course, this does run into the issue of in-character versus out-of-character knowledge. In some cases it's easy to assume that what the player knows, their character would also know. But if Steve has an encyclopedic knowledge of riddles but is playing as Krog the illiterate orc barbarian, you may run into some logistical difficulties. One possible solution is for both the players and the characters to nominate one of their own to answer the riddles, and if the chosen character belongs to someone other than the chosen player, the chosen player temporarily takes control of the character for the encounter - but this won't work for all tables, of course. To prevent cheating, this should be done before any riddles are issued. Another option would be to let PCs make an Intelligence check and get hints if they pass, but again, this takes away from the fact this encounter is meant to challenge roleplaying, not roll-playing.

If a PC fails the challenge, Pherenike grasps her end of the bridge and shakes it, causing the unfortunate challenger to fall off into the abyss. The drop down is 100 feet. If the rest of the party show hostility after this, the sphinx may engage them in combat.

If, however, a PC successfully answers five riddles and crosses the bridge, Pherenike will express shock that anyone could have outwitted her, and throws herself into the chasm instead. On her side of the chasm, the PCs will find her treasure hoard, consisting of 47,000 GP in coins, jewels, and other treasures, plus a Watchful Helm (wearers get a +1 bonus to AC, are aware of their surroundings while asleep, and can cast See Invisibility once per day as a bonus action).

Hynden

If the League of Three Crowns could be said to have a capital, that capital would be Hynden. Though nominally a part of Kvesland, and indeed its second largest city after the capital of Kveshenholm, it is far more famous as the center of League activity. It was here that the operations of the League were established in the League Charter, and here that the League Council meets each season.

As the largest city in the Levic Marches, Hynden is held by many to be the center of civilization in that region. Built on the eastern bank of the Galta River, and was originally founded as a stopover point by Vardessian traders ferrying wood, amber, and furs before blossoming into a major center of trade, connecting the lands of the north to the more settled kingdoms to the south. As such, much trade with the Northmen and the Levic clans passes through Hynden at some point.

Due to its location, Levics and Kvessians make up a large portion of Hynden’s population, but there are considerable numbers of Vardessians and Togarmans as well, and even a few Northmen have settled in the city. Dwarves and halflings are also numerous, and there is a sizable elvish population in the Southern Quarter. However, the city’s status as a capital of trade means that people of all sorts call it their home.

Officially, Hynden is governed by an elected Burgomaster, who leads a town council of officials from numerous guilds, including the Wheelwrights’ Guild, the Jewelers’ Guild, the Dyers’ Guild, the Most Careful Order of Skilled Smiths and Metalforgers, the Fellowship of Carters and Coachmen, the Watchful Order of Magi, and the Guild of Boar’s Heads (a guild of merchants ineligible to join the city’s League-affiliated guild due to not being citizens of Hynden by birth or marriage). However, the Archmagistress also sits on the town council, and has considerable sway, so the League ends up making the final decision on most matters. The current Burgomaster is Mateas Lundebeck, an old and world-weary sailor who has seen most corners of the known world in his youth, now retired from the merchant life. Although he has been a source of guidance for the Archmagistress, he takes full advantage of the fact that the League's influence means he doesn't have to do a lot of actual governing, and is content to spend his life's earnings on the finer comforts in life.

Any travelers staying in Hynden for more than a week, and any caravans or ships arriving in the harbor, are required to register with a League magister. The city’s north, east, and south gates are the most widely used; the east gate, which opens onto the Galta, is untended and used mainly by fishermen and clamdiggers selling their wares in town. As a major trade city, Hynden’s roads are carefully maintained to accommodate traffic. Many traverse by foot, but carriages are also available for rent.

Hynden is built on the eastern bank of the Galta, by the side of the Castlestone, a hill so named for the castle that sits atop it, simply known as Castle Hynden. Originally built to defend against raids by Northmen, it now serves as a redoubt in the event the city is attacked, and as a nucleus from which the city’s defensive walls extend. The actual governance happens below the Castle, at the Palace of the League and the House of the Burgomeister located in the Castle Ward. Other districts of Hynden include the wealthy River Quarter in the west; the Northern Quarter; the Trade Quarter in the east (home to the city’s markets); the Southern Quarter, which boasts the city’s elven district; and the Dock Ward, the city’s port and boasting the greatest reputation for crime.

Notably, the law of Hynden defines a native citizen of the city as being anyone born within line of sight of the Castlestone, or married to someone who is. This is important, as only those of such privilege may join the city's branch of the League of Three Crowns. In practice, this usually translates to anyone born within the city walls or just outside them, given the usually cloudy weather of the Levic Marches - however, on clear days, the Castlestone may be seen from greater distances. In fact, the famed Archmagister Vladas Karklinus was born in a village far from Hynden, but at such an altitude that the Castlestone could be seen - something he would, famously, demonstrate to the League Council to prove his legitimacy in one amusing historical anecdote.

It is an open secret that Hynden is built over an extensive system of tunnels and catacombs. Rumors tell of everything from thieves’ guilds to dwarven vaults to villages of rat-men living beneath the streets. Official word denies any suspicious activity, and many would prefer to live their lives unaware of any machinations below.

The League of Three Crowns

In some ways, the League of Three Crowns can be called the preeminent naval power in the Sea of Bartel. The number of trade routes in the sea, going between several wealthy powers, made it an attractive location for merchants, and with the lands of the Northmen close at hand, many of these merchants saw fit to band together for the purposes of mutual protection. Over the years, the nascent League grew powerful from both its wealth and its security, and was able to become a force in its own right.

In the simplest of terms, the League is a confederation of cities located in the region. More precisely, it is a confederation of the mercantile guilds that control both overland and maritime trade routes between these cities and beyond - but often, these guilds effectively control their cities. Many cities in Vardessy, Togarmah, and Kvesland claim membership in the League, and indeed, this reach between the three powers lends the organization its name.

However, the reference to crowns is a bit of a misnomer. Although the Emperor of Vardessy, the King of Togarmah, and the Queen of Kvesland all send delegates to the League Council in Hynden, many cities in the League are, by and large, free from the overreach of their feudal masters and answer only to the guilds, powerful enough to maintain their own armies and delegate their own laws. Despite this, the League is not a nation in and of itself so much as an alliance of cities within other nations.

In fact, League cities do not agree on all matters, even in their management, and what exactly makes a city a League city is difficult to define. The organization is a loose one - each League-affiliated guild nominates representatives to the League Council, who collectively decide on matters of management, and there are certain laws all cities abide by, but by and large every city has its own guild, which has its own structure and is managed separately. In most cases, there is still some measure of feudal authority over a League city. Some, however, are fully autonomous, with the guilds having enough wealth and power to essentially veto any royal decrees they wish and not fear reprisal - they are vassals of the crown in name only.

One thing that links all League cities, however, is that they all have the privilege of erecting a statue of a knight with a sword drawn, holding in the other hand a shield bearing the city’s coat of arms. Though the exact details vary from sculptor to sculptor, the image, usually displayed outside the town hall or in a market square, stands for both the bold independence of the city and - through its standardization - the city's deference to the League charter.

The League Council consists of representatives from the different League cities, with each individual representing one or more member settlements. It is governed by an Archmagister, who can be viewed as the head of the entire League. The current Archmagistress is Lydia Sidaranka. The scion of an influential merchant dynasty in Hynden, she was recently elected to the role, by a vote among the senior council members, after the previous Archmagister, Danne Aldrigamber, was ousted in disgrace for embezzling the League's coffers. Although a shrewd and capable businesswoman, she wasn't expecting to take on the role so suddenly, and struggles under the weight of expectations, maintaining a circle of trusted advisors to keep her on track. She is still early into her tenure, and many are hopeful that she will keep the League's prosperity alive.

Perhaps out of this hopefulness, others in the League Council tentatively put their stock in her. But when merchants are made and broken by the flow of commerce and the survival of their enterprises, the right conditions could easily cause the tides to change, and more ambitious eyes may yet see an opportunity in the Archimagistress. It is not lost on anyone that she is inexperienced and depends on others to tell her what to do, after all...

Seat of the League

The Kingdom of Kvesland, held by some to be the last true bastion of civilization before the northern realms give over to the domains of orcs, trolls, and Northmen, is a land that many peoples call their home. The majority of the population is of Togarmic stock, but the ruling class claims descent from Northmen - the kingdom was founded by settlers from the North that conquered Togarman lands, and to this day, the ruling dynasty - the Daggorids - exalt their Northern roots as a point of prestige, even if they have little in common with their pillaging ancestors. Then there are substantial communities of Vardessians who settled from the south, of dwarves who came down from the mountains, and in the east, the nomads of the Ukian March.

But in particular, the northwest corner of Kvesland, on the Sea of Bartel, marks the Levic Marches, home of the Levic peoples, and theirs is a culture distinct from that found anywhere else in the Kingdom.

Though contact between Levic, Togarmic, and Northern peoples happened with some degree of frequency through the centuries thanks to their geographic proximity, as Kvesland's influence grew, the insular and agrarian tribes of the Levic regions were not able to compete, and they soon became subjects of the crown. Though the Marches pay fealty to Kvesland, they enjoy a considerable degree of autonomy thanks in part to cultural differences among the population - and, increasingly so, in part due to the League of Three Crowns, a powerful merchant association that controls many ports in the area. Though officially the League Cities belong to Kvesland, Togarmah, and Vardessy, in practice, their great wealth and influence means they can muscle out authority for themselves, and the League itself, in the eyes of many, may as well be an empire all its own.

The Levic region boasts many marshes and forests, and the northerly climes are known for harsh winters and long nights, though unlike in the lands of the Northmen, there are no periods of 24-hour darkness. Many Levics have clung to the traditions of their forefathers, and they subsist as farmers in tribal villages, more loyal to family ties than to the authority of any king. They have largely adopted Pantheonism thanks to decades of trade with the outside world - though they obey folk traditions and revere many saints and local deities that speak to their history with the Old Faith, and some villages, revering their ancestral ways, are reluctant to adopt foreign gods. Unlike other so-called barbarian peoples of the west, like the Northmen and Sonderlundings, the Levics do not have a strong warrior culture, preferring to be left alone and to mind their own business, though they do have a reputation as a stoic and stubborn people who are set in their ways.

The Marches are a land of contrasts. Inland, the tribesmen live in scattered villages on lonely moors or in the clearings of deep forests, honoring the same blood oaths that their ancestors have for generations, while on the coast, the cities of the League are among some of the wealthiest and most cosmopolitan for miles, ruled by companies whose reach stretches far across the seas. The coastal elite regard the Levic tribes as slow-witted barbarians (even if their resources are appealing); the tribesmen consider them effete fools who are sticking their noses where they don't belong. So far, the conflict hasn't escalated into outright hostilities. But for how long?

Friday Encounter: The Giant's Farm

This encounter is best used in a fairly settled area, perhaps along a road. It's another example of one of my personal favorite genres of encounters - one that presents the PCs with a difficult moral dilemma, with the promise of interesting complications no matter what option they choose.

Background

In days of old, the hill giant Ronan was a fearsome threat who laid waste to many of the settlements around his domain, demanding tribute from the people and wiping out entire villages if they refused to comply. No hero could best him, no matter how many tried. But those days are in the past. Ronan has grown old, and his strength has waned. After taking a few injuries, he has decided to retire from a life of banditry and settle down, retreating to a secluded valley and tending to his crops. In fact, Ronan has come to realize that the farming life is far more to his liking than raiding and pillaging. And, as long as he keeps himself occupied with his farm, he leaves the people alone.

However, when the village of Dunmore was stricken by a famine, the people grew restless. Their crops are failing, and they struggle to sustain themselves. The elders remember the days that Ronan ruled the land with an iron fist, and they know that he has taken up farming. Surely if his crops can sustain a giant, they will be all that is needed to save the village. But doing so will mean trying to steal them from under his nose...

The Encounter

The easiest way to run this encounter is to have the party come across Dunmore on the road. They should pass by several blighted and barren fields on the way in, and all the people they meet along the way are thin and weak; the buildings are crumbling under disrepair, as everyone has fallen into a malaise. If the PCs ask around, the villagers will explain their plight, and point them in the direction of Ronan's valley, which is located about two hours from the village to the northwest. As they explain it, only a single pumpkin would be necessary to feed the whole village for the rest of the season.

If the PCs investigate the valley, they will note that it is blessed with great fecundity. The crops are all scaled to a giant as they would be to a human, so berries are the size of apples, apples are the size of watermelons, and pumpkins are the size of boulders. Surely a pumpkin would be enough to sustain the village. The problem, of course, is transporting the giant gourd - especially without being noticed!

If the PCs arrive in the daytime, there is a 75% chance Ronan is present, working the field. Fortunately, he is distracted by his work. In order to approach a pumpkin, each PC must make a Stealth check opposed by Ronan's passive perception of 12. They have Advantage on this check because Ronan is busy, and because the underbrush is thick enough for a medium-sized creature to sneak through on their knees. The PCs should overhear Ronan mumble to himself during his work, noting how much easier farming is than raiding, and how he hopes he never has to go back. If the PCs arrive at night, Ronan is asleep, but noise may still alert him to what is going on - see below.

Once the PCs get to a pumpkin, enter Action Time. In order to sever the pumpkin from its vines, three successful attack rolls must be made against the vine's armor class of 12. Fire damage completely destroys the vine, but has a 50% chance of alerting Ronan right away. A critical hit counts as two successful attack rolls. If the PCs are doing this at night, they make their attacks at Disadvantage unless they have darkvision. However, each time the PCs make a successful hit, they must roll a Stealth check against Ronan's passive perception of 12 (without Advantage if he is present; with advantage if he is not). On a failed check, Ronan is alerted to the noise and decides to investigate - and he will not be pleased with the PCs messing with his crops! He will not hesitate to charge into battle! 

Optionally, you can add more challenge to this encounter by having the PCs be noticed by six dire rats that function as giant-sized field mice in the farm. As with attacking the vines, any attack rolls the PCs make against the rats require a Stealth check to be rolled.

Either way, don't forget to use terrain for this encounter. The dense vines of the field have the Concealing, Dense, and Difficult tags. The pumpkins have the Climable, Concealing, Total Cover, High Ground, and Ledge tags.

Once the pumpkin has been severed from the vine, there is still the matter of carrying it back - not the easiest when it's giant-sized! PCs may need to bring a cart to carry the pumpkin, and that itself may present trouble in keeping something so large hidden from suspicion. If the PCs attempt to haul the pumpkin manually, they require a DC 15 Athletics check to transport it out of the valley; if they fail this check, they must make another Stealth check.

Further Developments

You might remember me talking about this being a moral dilemma earlier. Well, there's a reason for that. Hopefully, the players have picked up by now that while Ronan kept himself occupied with farming, he wasn't attacking the surrounding villages.

The pumpkin is indeed enough to feed the people of Dunmore, and they will thank the PCs for their aid; they will be welcomed as heroes every time they return there, and they will allow them to sleep at any home in town free of charge. However, Ronan will eventually realize that his pumpkin has gone missing. He will see this as a sign that maybe he wasn't cut out for farming after all - and go back on his campaign of raiding! Dunmore may not be his last target...

Highlands Hex Map

With another month finished in the Year of the Gazetteer, it's time for another hex map, this one detailing a part of the Sonderlunding Highlands. Each hex equals six miles.

Click here to enlarge