Saga of the Ortegids: The Tower of Shampan

When I started blogging about The Saga of the Ortegids last year, I intended to conclude the project with a thesis statement of sorts. I was inspired by how some of my earliest dungeons came from me taking the maps from my Prima strategy guide for Dragon Warrior III and adapting them to D&D, and I wanted to do the same thing from the perspective of an older and more experienced dungeon master, creating a full-fledged dungeon based on one of the ones from the game.

I intended to write this post a lot earlier, but a lot has gotten in my way between then and now. But now that I've had the time to write up the dungeon and run it as a one-shot to simultaneously playtest it and introduce some new players to the game, I think it's finally ready to share with the world. Consider this a culmination of my efforts for Saga, and as my own way of revisiting my roots.

While written for The Saga of the Ortegids, this dungeon can be used in any setting - feel free to change names and details as necessary. I've referenced the very same dungeon in my Lunar Lands setting, which can be found in hex 031.026 of the Golnir hex map, so it would be appropriate to use there as well.

Lastly, my playtest was intended to test both the dungeon itself and my previously-proposed concept of modules in the form of DM screens containing all relevant DM-facing information on the inner surface. Thus, I designed the dungeon to fit on three 8.5x11'' sheets. You can get it in PDF form here. The first two pages are for the player-facing side of the screen; the second page should be printed twice to be placed on either side flap.

Friday Encounter: Burn the Goat!

A bit of a belated Christmas special for this week's Friday Encounter. It's designed to have the PCs come upon it while traveling on the road, but with some tweaks could work for a settlement they're stationed in already. The encounter is themed around the real-life phenomena of the Gavle goat, and thus is well-suited to coincide with Midwinter or another winter holiday, but it would work just as well as a local festival on any date.

Burn the Goat!

Background

Centuries ago, the town of Gevalia was terrorized by a ferocious demon by the name of Degdrolan, who devoured the livestock, blighted the crops, and set fire to the peoples' homes for no reason but spite for mortals. No weapon forged could harm the demon, so the people were forced to make a grim bargain in order to spare themselvs his ire. Each year, before the coming of Midwinter, the people would sacrifice a goat in the town square so that the demon's bloodlust would be sated, and they would know another year of peace.

Many years have passed since that date, and the story has been forgotten by all but the most learned of sages. But the tradition continued. At first, it was customary for the people to spill the blood of a live goat in the town square - and this continued for generations after the people forgot why they were doing such a thing. But in more recent years, a new tradition grew in its place. Inspired by the sacrifices, the town's two most prominent guilds - the Brotherhood of Merry Merchants and the League of Free Brewers - would each compete to build a massive goat sculpture from straw, striving to outdo the other in size and majesty.

Every year since this tradition began, however, one or both of the goats has been burned down before Midwinter - whether from strife between the rival guilds, mere accident, or the mischief of wayward youths. By sheer coincidence, this practice has successfully kept Degdrolan at bay even long after the people forgot about him - after all, the contract between him and the town never stated that a real goat would have to be sacrificed. However, it is precisely because of how the story has fallen into obscurity that the officials are striving to stamp out the tradition of goat-burning. And if they're successful, they may be in for a rude awakening...

The Encounter

The PCs should arrive in Gevalia around two or three days before Midwinter. If you're using this encounter in a town they're already in, you can foreshadow things by having the goats be built over time in the background, or just have them be erected overnight. In any case, anyone going to the town square will undoubtedly notice the two towering straw goats built there - the Merry Merchants' goat is 40 feet tall, while the Free Brewers' is 35 feet.

Asking around, they'll hear about how the two guilds have competed to build a bigger goat every year for Midwinter, but no one really knows why. They're traded wins from year to year, and it's always been a matter of fierce competition between them. For as long as anyone can remember, however, both goats have never survived until midnight on Midwinter's Eve; someone always burns one or both of them down. The guilds are on especially high alert this year, and they have both offered substantial sums to the town guard to stand in defense of their goat. The guards feel it's a tiresome job, and would rather be at home enjoying the festivities with their families - some even feel that there's no point in protecting the goats because burning them down has become a tradition of its own at this point.

The goats are a point of pride for their respective guilds, and the PCs will likely hear of the heated rivalry between the two of them. If they pursue this lead, they may encounter Sidsel Raskova, the guildmistress of the Merry Merchants, and Jorstein Goransson, the guildmaster of the Free Brewers. Sidsel, true to her guild's name, is a jovial woman who loves the Midwinter festivities, while Jorstein is a more dour and serious man who wants only to ensure that his guild will succeed - but both of them show no affection for their rivals, and both suspect that they are plotting to burn down each other's goat. 

They may also run into Askold, the local delinquent - a youth of about 17 who leads a gang of miscreants who enjoy commiting acts of petty theft and vandalism. The gang openly claims to have burned down several goats in the past years, and considers it a badge of honor.

Lastly, there is Erland Kravitz, the burgomaster. He was elected to his position last year under a promise to clean up the town's image by cracking down on crime, and he in particular has no love for the tradition of goat-burning, believing it a disgrace to Voltan that the people expect arson to happen every year. He has no interest in playing to politics between the guilds; he only wants to make sure no goat gets burned this year, under any circumstances.

None of these characters know anything about the town's deal with Degdrolan - the people of Gevalia have long buried this, not wanting to admit to dealing with demons even if it was for their own safety. However, there is a convent devoted to Mimir, the god of knowledge, in the town, which boasts an extensive library (and also is open to shelter any travelers who can't afford a stay at the inn). Researching the history of Gevalia or its traditions at this library will reveal a record of the story in an old dusty tome.

Further Developments

Depending on how the PCs go about this encounter, they may ally with either of the guilds, Askold's gang, or the burgomaster, or they may act independently. Both of the guilds want to burn down the other's goat, but they also both know that the other guild is sponsoring the guards to watch their own. However, they realize they may be able to pin the blame on strange adventurers and escape scrutiny. If the party gets in the good graces of either guild, they will offer to pay the PCs with 50 GP each, plus one uncommon magic item for the group (choose something suited to the party, or to a character who could use one) if they are successful at burning down the other guild's goat. They will also help them escape town should they run afoul of the law.

Askold and his gang don't care about the guilds - all they want is to amuse themselves and cause mischief. At an hour before midnight, Askold intends to hide in an alleyway facing the town square with a bow and flaming arrows, which he will then fire into the goats. If the PCs agree to help him distract the guards (and not tell anyone's parents), he promises to make them official members of his gang. While the youths are a collection of orphans and unsupervised delinquents with no experience in combat to assist the party with and will not leave the town, they have picked up a good deal of rumors and know of routes to treasure or other points of interest in the area that they will only share with fellow gang members. Askold will also offer the PCs free access to his cache of stolen mead bottles, hidden under a cornerstone at the old barn on the outskirts of town the gang uses as a clubhouse.

Finally, if the PCs side with Erland and are successful at preventing any goats from being burned, the burgomaster will thank them for their aid and invite them to an official banquet, where they will each receive 100 GP and a magic item suited to their class and character, as well as having the opportunity to meet several important figures in the town and make allies of them. However, in the middle of the banquet, Degdrolan will manifest in the town square, angry that he did not receive his tribute for the year. Degdrolan has the stats of a glabrezu; a hulking demon with a shaggy coat and a face like a horned grinning skull. Just as he did years ago, he will attempt to lay waste to the town and devour anything in his path if not stopped.

Timekeeping in the Lunar Lands

Just a quick worldbuilding post today on the calendar system I use for my main campaign setting. The idea is to create something flavorful and fantastic, but still recognizable enough to the players. This allows them to utilize what they themselves know about time, scheduling, and how it works without needing to be pointed out that a week is actually ten days and for them to need to remember that. Much of this is just for reference and doesn't necessarily come up in-game - but I know it's there, and that's what matters.

Years

Years in the Lunar Lands are not numbered from a specific date; rather, they are charted relative to the reigning Vardessian Emperor at the time. Years in which a new Emperor takes the throne are considered both the nth Year of their reign and the First Year of their successor's reign, and the titles are used interchangably.

Thus, the "current" year in my campaign is the Twenty-Fourth Year of Harald IV's Reign (abbreviated 24HLD4). The year in which he took the throne can be regarded as the First Year of Harald IV's Reign (1HLD4) or the Forty-Ninth Year of Leopold III's Reign (49LPD3). Years prior to the founding of the Vardessian Empire are counted backward - thus, the First Year of Gustav I's Reign (1GST1) was proceeded by the First Pre-Imperial Year (PE1), which was proceeded by the Second Pre-Imperial Year (PE2), and so on.

Months

The Lunar Lands uses a lunar calendar - months are measured from the first night of a new moon to the first night of the subsequent new moon, using the largest of the three moons for reference. There are twelve months in a year, and Midwinter (the winter solstice) is regarded as the new year. If this does not fall on a new moon, the remaining days between Midwinter and the next new moon form an intercalary month at the beginning of the new year. Generally, months are thirty days, but may be longer or shorter depending on the lunar cycle. These months, and their corresponding real-world months, are:

Frostmoon: January

Snowmoon: February

Windmoon: March

Seedmoon: April (the time of planting)

Flowermoon: May

Fallowmoon: June

Haymoon: July (the time where hay is made)

Harvestmoon: August

Barleymoon: September

Winemoon: October

Bloodmoon: November (the time the livestock is slaughtered)

Oakmoon: December

Weeks
A week is seven days, and there are usually four weeks per month. Each day of the week is sacred to a different god, and their temples tend to hold rites on those days. These days, and their corresponding real-world days, are:

Sunday: Sunday. Sacred to Solenna.

Moonsday: Monday. Sacred to Mondi, god of the moon and husband to Solenna.

Huntsday: Tuesday. Sacred to Kerne.

Fieldsday: Wednesday. Sacred to Eostre.

Starday: Thursday. Sacred to Torvald.

Kingsday: Friday. Sacred to Voltan.

Queensday: Saturday. Sacred to Marseah.

Days
Days are measured from midnight to midnight. There are 24 hours per day, with 12 AM being midnight and 12 PM being noon.

Holiday 
Different kingdoms and cultures celebrate different civil and folk holidays, ranging from local festivals to grand official fetes. However, almost every culture observes the Wheel of the Year, a series of holidays plotted around the solstices and equinoxes (quarter days) and the midpoints between them (cross-quarter days). Because these dates are important for agriculture, they are celebrated in most regions, though the customs of celebration are variable and multifaceted, and they may be celebrated in different ways. These dates are:

Imbolc (First of Snowmoon): A cross-quarter day marking the start of spring. Festivals celebrate the end of winter and the rebirth of life, and oaths are traditionally made to be completed in the coming summer. Many also visit oracles in this time to learn of what the coming year will bring.

Eostrefest (Spring Equinox): A quarter day corresponding to the midpoint of spring. This day is associated with Eostre, the goddess of fertility, and the greatest celebrations of her cult are held then to ensure good crop yields in the fall.

Beltane (First of Flowermoon): A cross-quarter day marking the start of summer. Cattle are sent out to pasture on this day, often garlanded in flowers, and bonfires are often lit in celebration. This is one of the two dates at which the borders between this world and the realms beyond are at their weakest, making it easier for beings to cross between worlds. For this reason, it is often celebrated as Hexennacht - Witches' Night - as it is a popular date for rituals and summonings to be performed. In western Vardessy, it is celebrated as Saint Kriemhild's Day, largely in response to this.

Midsummer (Summer Solstice): A quarter day celebrating the longest day of the year. It is the most sacred day in the cult of Solenna, goddess of the sun. Devotees spend much of this day outside observing the sun's path.

Lammas (First of Harvestmoon): A cross-quarter day marking the official start of the harvest season. Typically celebrated with great feasts, often held outside on hilltops, in which the first fruits of the harvests are offered as a sacrifice to the gods. In many towns, elaborate festival days have grown around this feast, with public markets, contests, and performances held.

Mabon (Fall Equinox): A quarter day marking the midpoint of autumn, and the end of the harvest season. Also a time of feasting and thanking the gods for the harvest, though usually a more solemn affair than Lammas, as the days begin to get shorter thereafter and all must start to prepare for winter.

Samhain (First of Bloodmoon): A cross-quarter day marking the start of winter. Most notably, it is one of the two days at which the borders between this world and the realms beyond are at their weakest, allowing beings from other planes to most easily be contacted or summoned. This includes the shades of the Land of the Dead, and it is known that Morthanos, god of the dead, and his agents roam the roads on this day in search of souls that have escaped his domain. For many revelers, this is commemorated by walking the roads in costume. In Valossa, it is also the holy day of the Lady of Death, a local funerary goddess, in which people make offerings to their ancestors.

Midwinter (Winter Solstice): A quarter day celebrating the longest night of the year. In the dead of winter, it is often spent inside with much feasting and merriment to keep the morale during the cold, dead season, and to inspire hope for the spring to come. This date marks the end of the current year and the start of the next.

Friday Encounter: Elvish Negotiations

Art by Zara Alfonso

This encounter is, admittedly, a bit specific to the Lunar Lands. It was in part created as a way to introduce players to how I run elves, and to introduce some exposition on what they're like in the setting. But it could also work in a setting where elves are of a similar quality (I make no claims that my take isn't heavily influenced by things like The Elder Scrolls, Dwarf Fortress, and Magic: the Gathering's Llanowar Elves). And it presents an interesting opportunity to use elves as antagonists - something I feel is all too underused.

Plenty of ink has been spilled on the trope of inherently evil races - if it's worth what it brings to the table, if it's too limiting, if it's necessary. But I don't see anyone talking about inherently good races. Let me ask you: when was the last time you've had random encounters where you had to fight elves, dwarves, or halflings? Humans show up as bandits plenty of times, but it seems like many DMs struggle to think of the traditional PC races in roles beyond those of helpful allies. To me, that's a missed opportunity. I think there's room for evil elves just as much as there's room for good orcs. If anything, elves should be antagonistic to the party more often - not only are they traditionally aloof and disdainful of other races, there's plenty of literary precedent in tales of the fair folk, with whims and customs utterly alien to those of humans, to say nothing of the Mirkwood elves in The Hobbit, who are just as dangerous as the goblins of the Misty Mountains. So let's forget about Legolas for a moment, and explore an encounter with elves that might not go so comfortably for the party.

Elvish Negotiations

This encounter is best used in a wilderness setting, preferably in a forest. If you wish to use it in other environments, you may wish to make adjustments to fit the terrain.

The party should come across a clearing where a band of elves is harrassing some human woodcutters. There are three men tied to the tree with animal sinews, surrounded by six elves holding spears to their throats. Another elf, Misleikkuri, stands overseeing them, his arms folded and an imperious glare fixed on the woodsmen.

If questioned, the elves will explain that the woodcutters were caught tresspassing near an elven glade and felled a few trees. The woodcutters insist that they did not know the lands belonged to the elves, but the elves refuse them any mercy. In fact, they are prepared to subject them to a slow and torturous death by sawing them in half with a dull blade, one by one, citing that it is what they did to the trees. After they are dead, they will tan their hides, devour their flesh, and sharpen their bones into knives. The elves show no emotion about this, viewing it as perfectly natural and relating it in as casual and nonchalant a matter as an elf's way of relating anything can be so called.

A DC 10 History or Religion check will reveal that elves commonly view the trees as their gods and ancestors, so killing one is viewed as a grave transgression. A character who grew up around elves (usually if they themselves are an elf, but not always; eg. an elf raised among humans would not necessarily know this) will know this automatically.

If the PCs attempt to bargain for the lives of the woodsmen, Misleikkuri will accept a deal. He will accept their ransom at a rate of 500 GP's value per man - he sees such foolish and short-lived things as humans as little more than commodities, and will barter them as such. However, he will not accept the payment in coinage, as the elves have little use for the shiny metals of humans. Mundane items will be accepted at their value in GP, uncommon magic items at a rate of 100 GP each, rare magic items at 200 GP each, very rare magic items at 300 GP each, legendary magic items at 500 GP each, and artifacts at 1000 GP each.

Additionally, the PCs can attempt to haggle with Misleikkuri to lower the ransom on a given man. A successful DC 15 Persuasion check will cause him to lower that man's ransom by 100 GP; elves have Advantage on this check, as Misleikkuri is more trustful of them than humans. However, if this check is failed, Misleikkuri will grow frustrated with the negotiations, and his attitude will grow more hostile. If any items he is offered are made of wood, or another plant product, he will also be insulted, as their existence is proof that a tree was felled to make them.

If Misleikkuri is insulted three times (either through a failed check, an offer of wood, or if the DM feels such a response is warranted to the PC's conduct - keep in mind, this should be warranted from the perspective of a being who thinks of himself as higher and above human morality, and who sees humans the way we see cattle), he will call off negotiations. Any woodsmen the PCs managed to free before this will be allowed to go, but any that remain will be condemned to death. For folkloric resonance and to give the PCs information to strategize with, Misleikkuri should make it explicitly clear, if the PCs enter negotiations, that he will only let himself be insulted three times. Each time he is insulted, he will remind the party how many attempts they have left.

If the PCs attempt to free the woodcutters by force, or if they continue to try and get Misleikkuri to release them even after he has ended negotiations, he will order the elves to attack. They have the stats of a scout; additionally, Misleikkuri himself has the stats of an archer (see Volo's Guide to Monsters). In addition to the six elves in the open, there are three additional scouts hidden in the trees; they are behind three-quarters cover, and any ranged attacks made at them from the clearing are made at Disadvantage.

Friday Encounter: Star Metal

This encounter can be used anywhere outdoors, but probably has the most potential in a wilderness environment relatively close to civilization.

One way or another, the PCs should catch sight of a falling star, shortly before they hear the sound of a loud crash in the distance. If they investigate this site, they will find a large, smoking rock lying in the middle of a crater amidst flattened grass and toppled trees. A meteor has fallen here!

A DC 10 Nature check will determine that meteors often contain iron. A DC 10 Religion check will reveal that meteoric iron is considered a gift from the heavens in many cultures - and a DC 10 Arcana check will reveal that this iron, known as star metal or thunderbolt iron, is prized for having magical properties beyond that of earthly iron.

If the iron is mined from the meteor, there is about 60 pounds' worth of metal that can be obtained. Objects such as weapons and armor can be smithed from this metal, at a rate of one pound iron to one pound of the final product (for example, it could be used to make a single set of splint armor, 10 shields, 20 longswords, 60 daggers, etc.). Any weapons and armor made from the iron are treated as +1 items of that type; additionally, creatures wearing armor made of star metal have Advantage on all spell save DCs, as the iron is resistant to magical effects.

However, this equipment cannot be made without the use of a forge and a trained blacksmith. The party may need to transport the meteor to a forge if they wish to make use of its bounty. The meteor weighs 150 pounds in total and is cumbersome to carry; a bipedal creature carrying it may not use their hands for any other action while hauling the meteor. It can be carried on a cart or sled, but this may slow travel if it weighs the vehicle down. Getting the meteor to a blacksmith willing to work it may well be a quest in and of itself.

A character with proficiency in smith's tools can forge an item from the iron at a rate of one day of work per item, but they must have access to the proper tools as well as a forge and anvil in order to do so.

Keep in mind that things might not be easy even after taking the meteor to someone who knows how to work it. The blacksmith will likely demand compensation for such a task, and may even want to keep some of the iron for themselves, especially if they aren't familiar with the party and no reason to trust them. Furthermore, if word spreads about the star metal (such as if the PCs return to town to look for someone who can work it or help transport it, or if they show up in a settlement with the meteor in tow), they might attract the attention of thieves, or the feudal lord might lay claim to the iron if the meteor fell in his domain.

For that matter, the fair folk are repelled by iron, and they would have good reason to keep a source of it hidden so that it cannot be used against them. If the meteor is not collected in 1d4 days, a fey lord in the area will place a spell over it to make it invisible to mortal eyes, while fairies will try to waylay anyone who goes near the site - or accost them, if they must.

Friday Encounter: The Wild Hunt

This encounter can be dropped in the wilderness, but it perhaps has more utility if the PCs are actively engaged in hunting - whether that's because they're foraging for food, or perhaps because they're invited by a noble they're in good standing with to partake in a hunt. The lore here is pretty specific to the Lunar Lands, but you can probably tweak it to fit another setting by replacing Kerne with a similar god of the hunt, or the stag with a similarly holy beast.

While out hunting, the PCs are suddenly greeted by the sight of a large white stag with a majestic rack of antlers, emerging from the bush. The stag is alone, and it does not appear to notice the PCs' presence. If they so choose, it would be an easy target to move in for the kill - and a most impressive trophy indeed.

However, if it seems too good of an opportunity to be true, that's because it is. At this point, everyone in the party should make a DC 12 Religion check. Any PC who makes a successful check will know that white stags are the sacred beast of Kerne, the god of war and the hunt, and are reserved for he alone to pursue. Any mortal who dares harm one will suffer Kerne's wrath. Clerics or paladins of Kerne or characters with the Acolyte background who belonged to a Kernate order will know all this information automatically. This might seem like an obvious trap to the players, so if there are any NPCs with the party, you could have one of them attempt to attack the stag if you want to trigger the next stage of encounter.

If the stag is killed, the sky darkens with a great clap of thunder, showing that Kerne is displeased. The next day, Kerne will send a party of the Wild Hunt to track down the PCs, consisting of 2d4 scouts on riding horses, 1d6 mastiffs, and 1d4 perytons. As the scouts are Kerne's servants, they have the Celestial type (and thus will be noticed by Divine Sense and similar effects), and appear unusually tall and robust, with radiant skin, glowing eyes, and antlers growing from their heads, but their stats are otherwise identical. The divine hunters will pursue the PCs like a hunter pursues game - they will attempt to stake them out from chokepoints formed by the terrain, use cover, and attack from a distance to wound the PCs before mounting their steeds to ride them down while they nurse their injuries. This could easily turn into a tense situation with the PCs having to throw off the trail of tireless hunters - if you've seen any of the Predator movies, this should give you an idea of what to expect.

If, however, the PCs leave the stag unharmed, the next day, they will be approached by a hunter with a thick hood covering his face. He praises them on their good fortune to cross paths with the Wild Hunt, and even more so for their respect in leaving the kill to them. He will then leave the PCs with a horn etched with scenes of Kerne leading the Wild Hunt on their jaunts into the wilds, and explains that it may be used to call upon them three times. Once per day, the horn may be blown to summon the Wild Hunt (roll for the hunting party's composition as above), who will assist the party to the best of their ability. After the task they were summoned for is completed, the hunting party vanishes. After the horn has been used three times, the huntsman will take it back from the party, insisting that it can only be trusted in the hands of mortals for so long.

Alternatively, the Wild Hunt might invite the PCs on a hunt, if there are honored hunters and/or faithful devotees of Kerne among them. To be invited to such a task would be a great honor to any of Kerne's followers, but the Wild Hunt follows its own agenda. They are wont to carry the PCs into the middle of nowhere, well off their path, and leave them there as they get lost in the thrill of the hunt. And whatever prey they are pursuing might not be as simple as a white stag...

Friday Encounter: What Is It, Lassie?

This encounter can be used anywhere - a town, on the road, in the wilderness, or in a dungeon. However, it's probably best used in an environment one might conceivably encounter a dog - having one turn up in the middle of a dungeon might invite unwarranted suspicion from the party. A PC with access to speak with animals or similar effects may make this encounter trivial to solve, so you may want to consider your party composition and determine if it would be suitably challenging for your table.

The PCs are approached by a large dog, which runs up to them wagging its tail and sniffing them excitedly. If they respond affectionately (most players will, in my experience), the dog will tag along with them, following them wherever they go. Even if they try to get rid of the dog, it will catch up to them as soon as possible, taking every measure possibly to keep up with the party, unless it is physically incapable of doing so (such as if the party crosses a bridge that falls behind them, and the dog is unable to clear the chasm). Notably, the dog will bark and try to get the party's attention once it is sure they are friendly. It seems almost like it's trying to communicate with them.

As a matter of fact, the dog is trying to communicate with them. It is in fact Athansios Panossias, a powerful wizard who, upon being defeated in a magical duel with his rival Hermokrates Nikolaios, was cursed into the form of a dog. Though he retains his memories and his learned mind, Athansios can only speak and act as a dog can, and thus is incapable of performing the gestures and incantations needed to work his magic. Desperate to lift the curse and get revenge on Hermokrates, he seeks out any passing adventurers who he might be able to lead to his mortal enemy.

Athansios cannot say or do anything a normal dog couldn't, but he will nevertheless attempt to get the party's attention and lead them in the direction of Hermokrates's tower, trying to explain his predicament as best he can. However, he faces significant limitations in doing so. The PCs will likely misunderstand his directions, and this may well lead them on a wild goose chase. It's okay if this happens - it's fun!

In the Lunar Lands, all animals are sapient, but have their own languages indecipherable to other species. Athansios might not be able to communicate with the party, but he can communicate with any dogs they have with them, and they will understand them. These dogs may try to pass on the same message if they're swayed to his side, but of course they face the same difficulties in doing so. If there's a Really Good Dog in your party, you should relay Athansios's messages to their player privately and have them try to relate things to the rest of the party without using verbal communication, to keep things balanced.

Friday Encounter: Deals at the Crossroads

For optimal folkloric resonance, the best place to use this encounter is at a crossroads, preferably at night. As everyone knows, the crossroads is a place where the boundaries between worlds are weak, and it's easier to contact the other side - or, for that matter, for the other side to contact you. However, it would also work in the wilderness, in a dungeon, or perhaps even in a town, after everyone else is asleep.

Background

In the Lunar Lands, there are numerous places where the fabric of reality thins, and it is easier for things from other worlds to slip through. Crossroads are particularly susceptible to this, as an already liminal space where multiple routes intersect. Alimuth, a demon, has taken advantage of this. Like all demons, he delights in using his magic to bring mortals to ruin and spread discord, and he has come into the possession of multiple mortal souls through offering fabulous powers in exchange for immortal servitude. Now, the PCs might well become his latest clients...

The Encounter

Alimuth will appear to the PCs at the crossroads when no one else is around. He takes the disguise of a wealthy merchant, wearing fine clothes embroidered with fur and brocades, but all in shades of red. Like all demons, Alimuth is physically incapable of invoking the names of any gods, and instead refers to them by epithets and titles whenever possible. Additionally, a DC 20 Perception check reveals that he has slit pupils like those of a cat.

The "merchant" is found sitting on a cart hitched to a donkey on the side of the road. The cart has lost a wheel and sunken into a ditch - Alimuth is particularly interested in corrupting good-hearted and generous souls, and wants to pose as someone in need of help as a way to lure the PCs closer. He calls to the PCs for aid as they pass.

It's a simple enough task to find the missing wheel and fix the cart - no rolling is necessary. Alimuth just wants to get the PCs close enough to make his pitch. He graciously thanks the PCs and commends them on their kindness - then offers to repay them in a way only he can.

At this point, Alimuth promises to impart each of the PCs with a special "blessing." He will teach any of the PCs one spell from the warlock spell list, regardless of whether or not they have any levels in warlock. This spell should be one suited to the character's class, playstyle, and strategies, and should be one spell level higher than the highest level of spell slot a warlock of the same level as the PC would have access to - this is a more powerful spell than what would otherwise be possible of the PC. If the PC is a spellcasting class, the spell is cast as they would normally cast any other spell and takes up one spell slot of their highest available level. If they are not a spellcasting class, they can cast it as a warlock would (ie. their spell save DC is 8 + proficiency bonus + CHA, and their spell attack modifier is proficiency bonus + CHA), once per long rest.

However, this comes at a cost. To teach the PC the spell, Alimuth will need ownership over their soul as payment. If the PC dies, their soul is immediately damned to Hell; they automatically fail all death saves, and they cannot be resurrected or communed with unless their soul is retrieved from Hell directly or Alimuth otherwise relinquishes control over their soul. Furthermore, they are to forfeit their life after a year and a day (you are keeping track of time, right?). If they are still alive at this time, Alimuth will send a pack of three hellhounds after the party to attack them. The hounds appear at nightfall every day until the affected PC dies, heralding their arrival with the sound of a loud howl, and will track them relentlessly. If the hounds are killed, they simply respawn the next night. If the affected PC dies, the hounds immediately vanish and do not attack the rest of the party. The hounds cannot enter holy ground, such as a temple or the burial ground of a saint.

Although a demon, Alimuth is a man of his word and does not attempt to mislead or trick the people he deals with. He presents the PCs with a contract in which all the relevant information is laid out (albeit in circuitous language that is difficult to understand), and will not teach them the spell until the PCs sign the contract in their blood (he provides a quill with a pointy tip, if necessary). However, he will try his best to persuade them, describing how it's in their best interests to branch out with magic, and they surely won't be in any danger any time soon with such fabulous magic on their side.

If the PCs turn him down, Alimuth will disappear, but emphasizes that the PCs are welcome to change their mind at any time. He will also disappear if attacked. If they return to the crossroads with the express intent of visiting Alimuth, he will be right where they left him. He will not appear if they are just passing through.

Optionally, you might rule that a cleric or paladin who sells their soul to Alimuth will no longer be able to use class features that rely on divine favor, since their soul is no longer pledged to their patron god. However, this runs the risk of mechanically crippling a character and may necessitate multiclassing for them to remain viable, so it's best to talk this over with your players to make sure they're prepared for such measures. If you don't see a year and a day passing over the course of the campaign, another optional measure to speed things up would be to have Alimuth's contract specify it expires in a year and a day in Hell, and he comes from a domain of Hell where time passes faster than it does in the mortal realm - so he may come to collect the bargain sooner than expected!

Furthermore, even if Alimuth does collect a PC's soul, that might not be the end. A resourceful party might find a way to track the demon down and convince him to give up their ally's soul - or even free their companion from Hell itself.

The Year of the Gazetteer: A Retrospective

Click here to enlargee

With the Year of the Gazetteer behind us, I'd like to think back on how much it has done for this blog in the last twelve months. We went from averaging about two and a half posts a month in 2022 and 2023 to having at least 10 a month, with 2024 having 149 posts - my most productive year by far. I created 13 hex maps (counting Ochsebad) of various regions in my long-running Lunar Lands setting, which has hosted almost every campaign I've run since middle school - altogether detailing 33,543 hexes and 229,233 square miles of setting. That's an area a little smaller than Madagascar if smushed together, although the areas are not contiguous. I also wrote several articles, including lore, adventure hooks, and homebrew game material, that detailed different parts of my setting, fulfilling the purpose I made this blog for in the first place but never knew where to start with. Keep your eyes out for a Lunar Lands index in the future, where I will catalogue this material.

I learned a couple things along the way. Originally, I intended to use three-mile hexes for every map - I'm inclined to agree with Mythlands' points about this scale - but as I expanded beyond Switzerland-sized Lescatie I realized that it would just be unfeasible to keep making maps in that scale on a regular basis. After the undertaking that was Togarmah, I realized that even doing six-mile-hex maps of many regions was too big to do in detail, and most of the maps are only partial segments of their respective regions. Nevertheless, I still think there's more than enough to last a good few campaigns. Maybe some day I'll go back and fill in the gaps with hex maps of the remaining areas, but for now, it's a project I'm quite satisfied with.

Out of all the maps, the one that's gotten the most attention has been that of the Freikantons, which has sat in my list of most popular posts for some time now. I suspect this comes from its links to Ochsebad, which I submitted for the Summer Lego RPG Setting Jam at DIY & Dragons, realizing how I could contribute to both projects (which was a lot of fun!). Or maybe bitches just love the Old Swiss Confederacy. Who knows.

From here, I want to go from a big success (at the time of this writing, my post on terrain rules for combat is still my biggest success) to what I consider my biggest failed experiment. This didn't happen last year but the year before, but back then, I wrote a post about how the setting of the anime Puella Magi Madoka Magica would work well for an OSR campaign. I still think that, but I'm sad to say I don't think that's a campaign that will ever see the light of day. Though the post brought a lot of attention to my blog - even making it onto the OSR subreddit, somehow - a lot of the discourse there made me realize that there is not a lot of overlap between why I enjoyed Madoka Magica and why everyone else did.

I should note that I got into the series very early on in its run, I believe the day it blew up online as soon as the third episode aired (if you know, you know), and at that time, there had not been much in the way of character development; what drew me in was the interesting and very gameable setting and magic system, which seemed like it was going somewhere. I thought that setting would lend itself well to OSR gameplay. However, most of the reception I got was about how OSR systems don't model interpersonal dynamics well, despite me stating this was the aspect of the series I found the weakest. What I realized was that it's been over ten years, and most people now know Madoka Magica for the character-driven show it ended up becoming. I found the setting interesting but the characters unlikeable, whereas the fandom generally finds the characters likeable but the setting uninteresting (or at least unimportant). Nowadays, anyone wanting to play a game in the Madoka Magica universe is probably going to expect a depressed lesbian psychodrama instead of the horror-infused dungeon-delving sandbox about grappling with the limits of your own humanity I wanted to run, and that isn't really the kind of campaign I would be interested in running.

Anyway, I bring all of this up because this experience has taught me absolutely nothing.

Art by Martin Rodriguez

2025: The Year of the Barbarian

Barbarism is the natural state of mankind. Civilization is unnatural. It is a whim of circumstance. And barbarism must always ultimately triumph.

- Robert E. Howard

Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of their women.

- Arnold Schwarzenegger

Gee, if only I was a half-naked, super-ripped dude who could solve every single problem with one blow from his enchanted blade, THEN maybe I could get some gasoline and a lower interest rate on my home loan.

- Misterkitty's Stupid Comics

Lately, I've gotten deeply into a specific kind of fantasy. Sword-and-sorcery blood-and-thunder barbarian hero pulp heroic fantasy. The likes of Conan, Kull, Red Sonja, Fafhrd, Thongor, we can offer an honorable mention to Dave. While barbarians in the Lunar Lands tend to look more like ancient Celts or Germanics, I can't deny that I don't love myself a good Frazetta or Vallejo mighty-thewed warrior, in its own context.

I've been getting into not only 30s barbarian pulp, but also 70s barbarian comics, a surprisingly deep genre that Trey at From the Sorcerer's Skull has written plenty about. He's even done some writings of a game meant to emulate that milieu. I have him to credit for introducing me to Arak, Son of Thunder, which would have gotten into the Lunar Lands Appendix N had I not discovered it so recently and had there not been other, longer-standing influences to include It got me thinking of how I could do something like that myself - and, in particular, there are a few settings I've looked at that I feel would lend themselves well to such an approach. Neither are my own creation, but both I feel tap into the well of sword and sorcery goodness in their own ways.

One is a setting from the second big wave of pulp fantasy that I find incredibly gameable, and which has had a much bigger influence on the tabletop RPG world than many people realize, most likely due to its (in my opinion undeserved) bad reputation. The other is a setting I have talked about here on the blog several times already, one which, despite its association with another popular comic artist (to the point where most people overestimate how much involvement he had in it), I think would shine with a reinterpretation in the Mighty Marvel Manner under the theoretical pen of Roy Thomas. I intend to explore each of these in a forthcoming series of posts.

I'll still be posting the occasional Lunar Lands lore, of course - but we'll take a detour that will ring in the Year of the Barbarian! Stay tuned for what's to come!

Tennurhaf Hex Map

What better way to end the Year of the Gazetteer than with one last hex map? This one covers the Tennurhaf. As there's a lot of empty space, each hex equals twelve miles.

Click here to enlarge

The Althing

Government in the North is a far less codified affair than it is in other lands. The land is rugged, the weather is harsh, and the people are wont to engage in raiding - all factors that limit such things as trade, taxation, and the dissemination of orders. But perhaps for that exact reason, there is a need for some structures to bring order to a chaotic land. In much of the North, and in the Tennurhaf in particular, governance is accomplished through the tradition of the althing, at once a meeting of parliament and a festival that draws people from across the land.

Each of the petty kingdoms and clans of the North follow their own schedule for these meetings, but generally, an althing is held at least once a year. It calls for an assembly of chieftains and leaders representing each of the territories in a given realm, who speak on behalf of their people. In larger kingdoms, there may be a system of regional things that deal with more local matters, and appoint delegates to represent a given locality at the national althing. At these events, a class of lawspeakers - those wise men tasked with memorizing and reciting the legal code, given that literacy is rare in the North - read the law aloud, and are called upon to inform judgments. Althings are public affairs; any free person is welcome to attend, and is entitled to speak as much as they please at a designated site. Through this, cases and grievances are brought up before the chieftains and lawspeakers by the people so that they can pass their judgment on them, and so that they can understand what matters concern the common folk.

Typically, what happens is that a citizen brings up a dispute, the lawspeakers advise the chieftains, and the chieftains (or the king, if there is one; in these societies, a monarch typically acts under the counsel of their vassal chieftains) pronounce a final verdict. In most corners of the North, the chieftains have no power to enforce a law; that is left up to the people themselves, usually the family of the aggrieved. For instance, if one is deemed to owe another party a fine, then the chieftains can confirm this is the case, but it is the party that is owed who must see to it that the money is collected, by whatever means are necessary.

The Northmen typically settle disputes through the paying of weregild - that is, each person is deemed to have a specific monetary value, and if they are killed or harmed, that value must be made up, either through monetary payments or through killing another of that value. This, predictably, has led to many bloody feuds and kin-strifes which threatened in some cases to upend society. To prevent such a thing from happening, the Northmen began to observe the althing so that disputes could be settled without bloodshed running out of control. Often, an althing will see people brought together from multiple villages, clans, or tribes - because of this, they are always held on what is deemed neutral ground, always a space designated for the occasion and usually at a spot easily accessible from all corners of the realm. It is rare that these spaces are designed for permanent habitation, and most attendees stay in tents and temporary dwellings.

Nevertheless, with so many people coming from so long a distance to meet at the althing, the occasion has grown into something akin to a local festival. It is an opportunity for merchants and craftsmen to showcase their work to new clients, for would-be sellswords to find patrons, and for markets to be held. Althings can last for days at a time - that of Jerrborg, for instance, lasts for two weeks in the spring - and there are plenty of diversions to keep one occupied. Skalds sing, games like bowling, axe-throwing, and tafl (a board game similar to chess) are held, and so are contests of strength, like stone-tossing and wrestling between both men and horses (usually against an opponent of the same species, but not always). For many, the althing is a social event; for some that is more important than its political functions.

It must be noted that the althing is a system intended to keep the peace in a tumultuous land - and thus, neutrality is very important. No one is allowed to bear weapons at an althing, or to shed blood. There may be more than just social ostracism at stake - it is common for arcane rituals and sacrifices to be made at these events to consecrate them to the gods, and many sites are marked by enchanted runestones. Those who defy the rules of the althing may well bring a powerful curse down upon them.

Jerrborg

There are a great many islands in the Tennurhaf, ranging from humble sea-stacks to realms in their own right. The largest of them all, however, is Jerrborg. It was one of the first islands of the Tennurhaf to be settled by the Northmen, and as such boasts a robust population, more settled than many in the region - though the harsh winters and the constant raiding and kin-strife of the people keep it from seeing much peace.

All of Jerrborg is united under a single ruler, the Jarl Haakon Wolf-Eye. He rules from his mead-hall in the town of Erikstead (hex 114.035). A respectable port - the largest in the Tennurhaf, in fact - Erikstead sees traffic from various Northmen clans and kingdoms in the summer market fairs; sometimes, traders from as far as Kvesland and Vardessy come here too to bring furs to southern lands. Haakon rules with a fair hand, rewarding his peoples' valor in battle with treasure from his vast hoard, but the warrior spirit in him has not died out - he was a raider in his youth before being granted the kingdom when the previous Jarl died and gave him the throne as a token of his gratitude for faithful service. Deep down, Haakon has not accepted the settled life, and still desires the life of adventure and glory - this means that he may shirk his duties if a great enough opportunity raises its head, but that may put his domain at risk.

Other settlements in Jerrborg include Raunhofn (hex 111.031), a modest coastal settlement that survives off of fishing and whaling. The summer marks a great whale hunt, where all the townspeople descend to their boats and set out on the water to hunt with spears and harpoons; one who can slay the greatest whale will receive great honor for the rest of the year. Notably, the local definition of "whale" is a loose one, and many winners have in fact slain krakens and sea serpents, though even if vanquishing such beasts is a heroic deed, they are not quite as favored from a productive statement - their carcasses are not as useful as a true whale's.

Also is Anarfell (hex 112.034), a logging community in the wooded foothills that surround Jerrborg's central mountains. The locals here are quite superstitious, and have many charms to protect them against elves and other fair folk; they shut their doors at night, and are reluctant to give their names out to strangers, lest they be delivering them to the fey to curse them with. Their suspicions have some truth for them, for there is a village of elves not far from Anarfell (hex 113.033). These elves, however, are not keen on terrorizing their neighbors, for they themselves dwell in the shadow of the red dragon Baelfir, who calls the mountains his domain. The dragon can be found above the peaks of the mountains, but his cave is located in hex 114.032, where he rests upon a great golden hoard. He may also be found on the shores of the volcano at hex 113.032, where he bathes in magma and consumes fire-roasted stones to temper his fiery breath. Baelfir is a capricious creature, prone to launching attacks on nearby settlements for no reason other than his own amusement, but like many dragons, he is also vain and takes pride in his majesty, and can easily be distracted with the songs of his praises.

Like many places in the North, Jerrborg is home to a number of runestones and stone circles. One, on the southern shore (hex 111.034), marks the site of Jerrborg's annual althing, an assembly of the island's peoples for trading, celebration, and holding court on legal matters. The assembly takes place in a low depression on the shore, said to have been a footprint left by a giant in some ancient bygone age. As much of Jerrborg's population is concentrated around the southwest coast, this location was chosen for its ease of access from all major settlements on the island. At these assemblies, laws are spoken, challenges are made, and all matter of goods may be sold and games may be played - it is a fine time to seek work.

On the northern moors, however, a small stone circle (hex 113.030) stands on the cliffs overlooking the shore. The stones are carved with images of men and women in flight. If a goat is sacrificed here and its blood spilled on the altar, whoever makes the sacrifice shall be able to fly short distances at a time until the coming of the next full moon. Of course, there are also rumors of wicked cults meeting at this site for darker purposes...

A final secret is that the line of ruling jarls today were not the first people to colonize Jerrborg. Northmen attempted to settle on the north of the island many ages before, but the harsh winters - and the watchful eye of Baelfir - doomed their settlement to a tragic end. However, the remains of those warriors' fortress still sit in the forest (hex 116.032) - along with the barrows of the men slain in those early conflicts, who shall still rise to defend them if need be.

Friday Encounter: Fisherman's Folly

Art by Jeff A. Menges

This encounter takes place in a village - ideally a small one by the coast. If the party is already in such an environment, it can be used there, or the village could be one encountered on the road. Like last week's encounter, it was written under the assumption of taking place in the North and includes some relevant details, but the core conflict is setting-agnostic. As always, don't be afraid to tweak the details to suit your campaign.

Background

While fishing off the coast, Hallbjorn, a local fisherman, found something unusual in his net. In addition to the usual bounty of fish, he caught a small serpent, about the size of his arm from the elbow down. At first, he believed the beast to be an eel, and brought it along with the rest of his catch to sell at the market. However, Hallbjorn's wife, Refna, was able to recognize this was no eel. He had caught a baby sea serpent!

Taking pity on the poor creature, Hallbjorn decided to raise it in the shallows near his home, feeding it fish he couldn't sell on the market. The creature soon became the talk of the town, with many villagers stopping by to see the beast - and some coming from even further afield. At first, Hallbjorn's monster - as the little creature came to be called - was merely a matter of curiosity for those in the area. However, it soon grew from a curiosity to a nuisance.

The creature quickly began to grow, and so too did its appetite. When fish alone could not sustain it, it began to swim along the coast, snatching chickens and small dogs that came near the shore. It only grew bigger and bigger, and is now the size of a newborn calf. As the creature grew to be more of a problem, and the novelty wore off, the people began to make up their mind about it - it needed to go. The problem is, Hallbjorn refuses to give it up...

The Encounter

The PCs might happen upon the village by circumstance when passing through on the road, or they might hear rumors of Hallbjorn's monster and decide to look into it for themselves. If they arrive in town, Hallbjorn will be happy to show them the serpent and retell the story. But the PCs should also become aware that the rest of the townsfolk are growing restless - indeed, there is hot debate on the streets and in the taverns. It's inevitable that they'll pick up some word.

One faction, led by the town woodcutter Agnar Giermundsson, holds that the creature is a menace and must be dealt with as such - after all, it has already killed several chickens and threatened the livelihoods of farmers. If such a thing continues, surely it is only a matter of time until it devours a child. Hallbjorn and his wife, however, maintain that the creature is harmless, and that killing it would be unnecessarily cruel. They insist that it is only a baby, and it would not be fair to it to punish it for engaging in its natural behaviors. Soon enough, they claim, it will learn to hunt on its own and eat fish further out to shore - the only problem is, the monster shows no signs of doing that any time soon. In fact, it has grown quite fond of being able to get all the food it wants so close to shore, and has stuck around.

The debates are growing heated, and it is clear that this cannot stand for long, lest it tear the village apart. If the PCs do not step in, Agnar's men are fully prepared to take matters into their own hands.

Further Developments

If the PCs do not resolve the dilemma within three days of arriving on the scene, Agnar will decide enough is enough, and rally a mob to kill the creature in the night. If the PCs are among this mob, or kill the monster on their own, Hallbjorn will be distraught, and slaughters one of his horses so that he can construct a nithing pole. Accusing the strangers of inciting the town to such an act of cowardice and dishonor, he pronounces the apparent leader of the party (if there is no leader, choose one at random) a nithingr and places a curse on them. The affected PC is afflicted with ill fortune for the next month. If they roll a natural 20 on any roll, they must re-roll it and keep the new roll (ie, the opposite of a halfling's Lucky trait).

Alternatively, the PCs may decide to resolve the feud by taking the monster with them. This has its own complications - as a sea serpent, it cannot walk on land except for short distances at a time, and must remain in the water. It will require them to feed it in order to keep it from straying back to the village it considers its home - and, as the creature gets bigger, it will only become harder and harder to keep satiated, let alone to transport easily. However, if the PCs can pull it off, they may have a sea serpent on their side, which presents its own advantages.

Either way, a month after the encounter, the serpent's mother will manage to track her offspring down. If Hallbjorn's monster remains at the village, the inhabitants may be in even greater danger than a mere feud would cause them. And if the creature was harmed, there will surely be hell to pay...

Magic Items of the Tennurhaf

The Northmen possess an extensive series of mystic traditions, and in the Tennurhaf, those traditions have been perfected through the years. The people of the Sea of Teeth are renowned as some of the greatest magicians among the Northmen, and many Northern grimoires come from this region. Magicians in the Tennurhaf have developed and recorded many sigils, or staves, in order to imbue objects with magical power. By inscribing these symbols on paper talismans and sewing or placing them into items, a consistent magical effect can reliably be reproduced. Here are a few of such items documented in the mystic tomes of the Tennurhaf.

Art by Caitlin Fitzgerald

Corpse Breeches

Wondrous Item, very rare, requires attunement

Among the more well-known rituals of Tennurhaf mysticism is that to create a set of corpse breeches - a set of enchanted trousers made from the skin of a dead man. Although the process of creating them is morbid, the breeches are surprisingly pedestrian in their use, for they are usually used by magicians to create an ready supply of money. However, they carry a curse. The art of making corpse breeches was taught to mortals by a demon known as Orkku the Bloated Prince, and as part of the pact that imparted the world with this knowledge, anyone who uses them will condemn their soul to Hell, unless they can pass on the curse before they die.

Corpse breeches are made from the entire skin of a corpse, which must have an intact scrotum, from the waist down, and are worn over the wearer's skin. Contained in a pocket made from the corpse's scrotum are 1d4 coins (roll 1d10: 1-3. copper; 4-6. silver, 7. electrum, 8-9. gold, 10. platinum) and a piece of paper with a sigil inscribed on it. When one is attuned to the breeches, the amount of coins in the pocket doubles each day, as long as it contains at least one of the same denomination it started with. If coins are placed in the pocket after the fact, they are not doubled. The coins will always be of the same denomination and disappear from the possession of others nearby, instantaneously transporting to the breeches. This means that as the breeches accrue money, it will disappear from the possession of others - who may begin to suspect something is afoot, if this continues.

Once one attunes to a set of corpse breeches, they cannot be removed unless by breaking the spell on them (either by emptying the scrotum completely of coins or removing the sigil), causing them to permanently become an ordinary (if disturbing) pair of leather pants. The only other way to remove the breeches is by passing on the curse. The only way to attain a set, then, is to either make them through a ritual or to have them passed to you.

Corpse breeches may only be made from someone who has given consent while alive for their skin to be used to make the breeches upon death. Many magicians make pacts with one another that if one of them dies before the other, the other will make corpse breeches from his body. They must be worn immediately after flaying them from the corpse, and then a coin that was stolen from a widow during one of the days of the Wheel of the Year must be deposited into the scrotum along with the sigil. Once this is complete, the pants attune to the creator and begin to summon money to them.

If someone attuned to a pair of corpse breeches is on their deathbed, they may pass the curse on to another, in which case they lose attunement with the breeches and can remove them; the breeches will then become attuned to another humanoid designated by their previous wearer as soon as they are donned. If a creature dies while still attuned to corpse breeches, their soul is immediately condemned to Hell. They do not make death saves, may not cheat Death, and cannot be revived or communed with (via speak with dead or similar effects) by any means short of retrieving their soul from Hell directly.

Nithing Pole

Wondrous Item, uncommon

In the Northern tongues, the term nithingr - often translated as "outlaw," but this doesn't capture all the intricacies of the term - refers to a person marked for dishonorable conduct. A person can be pronounced a nithingr for a number of reasons, such as breaking an oath, showing cowardice, committing murder, or failing to show up to a holmgang. The Northmen take this punishment quite seriously, for there is more at stake than merely one's social status. To be declared a nithingr involves a ritual in which a nithing pole is used, which often (but not always) marks the target with a supernatural curse to punish them for their dishonor.

To construct a nithing pole, one must sacrifice an animal (usually a horse, but a calf, sheep, or goat may be used if one is unavailable) and attach its head to a wooden pole. When the pole is directed so that the head is facing the target, and the end of the pole is beat against the ground three times with the word "Nithingr!" called out each time, the user can cast bestow curse regardless of how far away the target is. If the user does not have any levels in a spellcasting class, the DC to save against this curse is 10.

Glima Boots

Wondrous Item, uncommon

A popular sport among the Northmen is a form of wrestling known as glima, in which participants grab one another by the belt or shoulders and attempt to throw their opponents off their feet. Wrestling contests can be found at many a feast and assembly, especially in the Tennurhaf. It was rather inevitable, then, that enchantments and charms would be developed to ensure good luck in these contests. Some contests ban this, while others consider the use of magic to be a valid tactic, as one is using everything at their disposal to win.

Several Tennurhaf grimoires describe the use of a set of sigils that are woven into the inside of the wearer's boots - one under the heel of the right boot, and one under the toe of the left boot. While one wears these boots, they have Advantage on any checks made to grapple an opponent, and any grapple attacks made against them are made at Disadvantage.

Tilberi

Among hedge witches in the Lunar Lands, there are innumerable spells to steal milk from the teats of cows and deliver it straight to the caster - it allows one to have a steady source of food without needing to invest in land to keep livestock oneself. In the Tennurhaf, most witches accomplish this by creating a particular kind of magical construct known as a tilberi.

A tilberi can only be created by a woman. To do this, she must exhume a recently buried body and take a rib from the corpse, then wind it around a sheaf of stolen grey wool and keep the bundle between her breasts for three weeks. At the end of each week, she must spit wine into the bundle. After the third time this is done, the bundle develops a face at each end, and must be placed against the creator's thigh, which it will suckle blood from, leaving a wart. At this point, the tilberi is complete.

The tilberi will loyally obey the wishes of its master, who it regards as its mother. Although the first tilberis were created to contain milk, they are capable of storing any fluid substance and expelling it from their mouths on command. Some inventive witches have experimented with other uses for the tilberi, such as using them as ambulatory potion bottles, or as guardians, spitting acid at intruders or sucking blood from their wounds. It should be noted, however, that tilberis are cowardly creatures and will run back to their "mother" if threatened.

For more on tilberis, see this article from A.C. Luke.

Click to enlarge