Thursday, February 28, 2013

The Role of Contacts and Useful NPCs

Since I've been thinking about this a lot lately, it seems useful to at least set these thoughts to paper. There seem to be a number of nondiscreet, overlapping roles that various NPC information sources can play for a party. In some games (like Shadowrun) these are explicitly spelled out and are part of the setup when starting the game. However, unlike those games, D&D allows you to take everything in hand yourself—your DM needn't even necessarily include figures such as these, but I find it allows everything to go a bit more smoothly plus it gives that sense of realism rather than allowing hoards of information to fall willy-nilly into the PCs laps just because they are players.

Rattling off the top of my head, here are some jobs that NPCs generally do for PCs:

Employer. The simplest and most straightforward of the relationships is employer-employee. This is easily complicated, however; many important people won't employ adventurers directly, but rather delegate the task to an underling. So now you have a pipeline to your employer, via a spymaster, seneschal, or simply a trusted advisor. Employers can betray you, or be employing you to a task they don't ever intend to see done, or have completely ulterior motives, realizing that the chain of reactions set off by doing a job will be one that's beneficial to them.

Contact. These types of NPCs are intermediaries for jobs, not in the way an employer's agent is, but rather as someone who knows what needs doing and can hook the player up with many employers. This is generally a person you want to trust. PCs can't be expected to sit around and build contacts with all the important people of a city all day while they're off busy adventuring—though they are certainly welcome to, and their contacts will likely wane in importance to their own social networks as they develop roots in a locale.

Fixer. This covers a large variety of needs, but generally is a person with a single specialty that the PCs hire to make use of that specialty. For example, a man who has influence with the underworld may be able to drum up extra muscle for the PCs. It's highly unlikely that the PCs are going to want to spend time going from one group of thugs to the next to see if they want work that evening. This is left to a professional organizer, the fixer. These NPCs usually perform their service for other NPCs, and only work for the PCs temporarily.

Broker. Information is important, and getting information that others don't have is the MOST important thing there is when you're adventuring in dangerous political waters. Spymasters generally work for a noble house or organization (the crown, perhaps) but information brokers are free agents who make it their job to know things. Many brokers are only informally in this business: a wealthy merchant who just happens to know a lot of people might serve the PCs as a good broker.

Now note that there is a huge amount of crossover between these categories and that NPCs may start as one and become another—for example, it's an easy transition to work for a merchant, impress him with the results of the job, and then return to him again and again for information. This is an effective network-building strategy for adventurers: turn employers into other kinds of long-term contacts, in this case employer->info broker.

Most people who can serve as employment contacts can double as information brokers as well, however limited their scope. Remember, this is probably a fantasy/medieval setting we're talking about, so most people are highly specialized. It's a rare man who makes his living doing all kinds of employment contracts (the equivalent would be a modern day acting agent; no one has the free time, nor can the economy support, adventuring agents who go around and look for work for their client-parties).

It's also important to realize that all of these come in both licit and illicit varieties. You may befriend the king's spymaster (a great info broker) or pay a local crime lord: both will wind up giving you information, but it will be of different provenance, deal with different subjects, and be of varying quality.*

These categories aren't really tools to use as labels when you create NPCs, but rather simply types of resources to keep in mind. Any NPC could be potentially all four of those things to your PCs... It just depends on how they interact with them and if the NPC is providing the right kind of service. It doesn't help the PC who wants to hire a cadre of assassins if they're speaking to the knight-captain of the realm.

*The misinformation issue is something I love, though my players have become extremely paranoid. Misinformation is rampant in settings where the only means of newsgathering is word of mouth and you can essentially determine that the farther away the source of the news was, the more distorted it will be when it reaches you.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

The Living World and History

A player of mine said something very interesting the other day. He said one of the reasons he likes playing in Arunia is because he can really change things—when the PCs alter regions in important ways, they find their place on the OP wiki of the setting and their actions described in detail. This made him feel important in contrast to, for example, every other setting ever designed by TSR. Now, there is something of a false equivalency being made here between a published setting and a homebrew setting; there's nothing stopping me from customizing my own version of Greyhawk, for example, so that it includes the actions of parties the characters have been in. I suppose, yes, the actual manual doesn't do much to support that and it would never reach TSR to be reprinted that HIS character did something special...

But that's neither here nor there. I suppose its important to note that I've always been a fan of the idea that OTHER DMs running Arunia, of which there are precious few, would send me the tales of their parties and I could attempt to integrate them, picking and choosing which made the most sense for the core setting.

Yet, I don't think what my player described is something impossible to achieve in home campaigns running settings that are "all already written." If that is actually the case, then most of my work fleshing out Arunia for other audiences is really for naught. I don't want people to play in a static wasteland of high-level named NPCs who accomplish everything important and deny the players all agency.* So, I can't help but think that writing everything down, codifying it, and sending it out into the world doesn't necessarily kill campaign setting, making it into some stuffed taxidermy of itself.

Vitality is one of the most important elements that I strive to emulate in my work. The vitality of change is sometimes very difficult to achieve in both fiction and D&D. Things are always happening all around us, outside our own scope of knowledge. This is one of the reasons I love the Hill Cantons rumors postings and have started doing a few of my own every so often: these rumors are the things which help make the setting feel vital. There are forces at work larger than the players, offstage in parts of the setting they aren't seeing, or with plans they haven't even begun to fathom.

Living history is another element of this vitality. Making a mark on the setting is extremely important. One of the great joys of play is retiring an adventurer to have them become an NPC that can be met later. Relinquishing control of your character is only a victory condition because they become integral to the setting, and may receive their own entry in your DMs homebrewed encyclopedia or setting guide. You yourself get a chance to become permanently part of the world, the PC-fragment of your personality embedded forever in history.


*I also don't want the players to be the ONLY ones capable of exerting agency in the setting. I like a world that can get on without them, as much as that contradicts part of the Great OSR Player Agency shtick.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Organizing Magic in Arunia

Last week, the Hounds managed to bring back the Tome of Dreaming to the elvish city of Silversong. When they arrived they discovered that the Silver Wizards had erupted into chaos after their departure. Vast spellworks had been flung and the Silver Manse was in a terrific state of disrepair, but in the end Naur's master Tholindinar had come out on top.

While most of the session was spent investigating work, arranging treasure, recording xp, and discussing a new party charter (which, at the time of writing, is still being discussed), there was a little in there about joining up with the Silver Wizards, which Naur eventually decided to do. This led me to flesh out their organizational page on the OP wiki a good deal but also to start thinking about the nature of wizardly organizations in the 10th Age.

It's a well known Arunian adage that "wizards build towers," or in other words are prone to isolation for a variety of reasons. A cornerstone of this behavior rests on the fact that wizards are generally highly arrogant. After all, they're capable of controlling the elemental forces of the universe using their own hands, minds, and breath. I'm sure I've said this before, so at the risk of repeating myself the single-mage-single-tower is the most common magical paradigm in the 10th Age.

That being said, there are and have been magical organizations in Arunia in the past. The most famous of these were the ancient Scholae of the First and Second Empire, but these were wiped out at the end of glory days of the empire. Schools of magi are inherently unstable, as it's the equivalent of giving a group of very belligerent Oxford dons who all disagree about fine points of academia hand-mounted flamethrowers and lightning guns.

Elves are inherently less prone to dramatic violence then men, however. While the elves of Arunia are moved by powerful emotions and can easily tip from extreme happiness to extreme sadness, they are more inclined to restrain themselves when the situation calls for it. Magic, certainly, is one of those situations. The great lusty emotions of the elves lead, almost counter-intuitively, to less magical conflict rather than more. The calmer nature of elvish society leads to more harmonious spellcraft and less hording and violence between wizards.

This has found its ultimate expression in the surviving circles of elvish magic. While the cabals of mannish wizards are few and far between (and in this day and age generally limited to small numbers), organizations such as the Silver Wizards and the Cloudsea Sorcerers can have hundreds of members.

While I'm staunchly against associating level with rank (there are plenty of kings and knights who are level 0-3 warriors), magic is hierarchically divided into categories of ability. These scale perfectly with level, so the magical organizations of the 10th Age tend to divide their practitioners by level (as evinced when spells of a certain spell-level become available). IN addition, though Arunia is by no means a magic-saturated world, most elvish magical organizations have recourse to a number of magical items. In this case, enough so that they can outfit the limited number of incoming magi with robes that have minor enchantments woven into them.

Organizations do something else as well, something powerful and strange, regardless of wether they're magically inclined: they tie the players to a certain place, a certain mindset, and certain acceptable sets of goals that PCs aren't necessarily bounded with. This is one of the reasons why I purposefully chose to have elvish magical organizations kick out their apprentices until level 3—it fits perfectly with the elvish ideal of self-determination, the wizardly ideal of throwing out your apprentice, and the meta-game concern of making sure the player is READY for his character to become part of something larger.

The greater sense of obligation, the ties it engenders, and the way these things can be woven into adventures and the overall adventuring scene are topics I will hopefully explore in more detail in later posts.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Pantheon Monday: Haeron, the Lawgiver

I posted Haeron long ago, when I was first starting this blog. Now that I know there's such a thing as panethon monday, I've made a few salient changes and I'm posting it anew. The old post has been removed to prevent redundancy in the archives.

HAERON
(The Lawgiver, the Smith, the Hammerer)

Greater God, LG
Portfolio: Laws and justice, metalworking, smiths
Aliases: Calëron
Domain Name: Valingas, the Golden Halls
Superior: None
Allies:  Avauna, Eiri, Eleia, Quill
Foes: Dinismayl, Tharos, Rhamna, Hasht, Glyrea
Symbol: A golden smith’s hammer
Worshipper Alignment: LG, NG, LN, LE

Haeron (HIGH-ron) the Hammerer is the central god of the mannish pantheon. He is a just and wise deity, who oversees justice and maintains peace amongst the other gods. While he is not averse to bloodshed, he is merciful and generally seeks the most peaceful path ahead. He absolutely despises the dangerous and troublemaking gods of the pantheon; he must constantly strive to keep them in line and prevent them from upsetting the order he has established.

According to the Prophet Aeldus, Haeron was responsible for crafting the “golden bonds of law,” which govern the way men interact with one another the world over. Haeron is the fountain of law and justice, from which all virtue flows, or so his priesthood touts. Yet, this is not Haeron’s only sphere of influence; he is the god of smiths and metalworkers as well, and his golden hammer can be found hung in forges and temples alike.

He doesn’t rule the pantheon with an iron fist; indeed, it can be said that he does not really rule the pantheon at all. He oversees it, takes care of the conflicts between the deities with his overpowering might, but mostly threatens rather than acts. He himself is the pillar of the concordance between the gods. He has set forth the laws by which the gods must abide, and those who fail to hew to them will face his wrath. He has set forth the laws by which the gods must abide, and those who fail to hew to them will face his wrath; he is not implacable in his anger, however, and will temper it with good sense. If the gods interfere in minor ways in the mortal world, he may issue stern and demanding warnings or send his most fearsome servant, the Herald of War, to remind the offending deity of their place.

Yet Haeron was gone to war in the past, and likely will do so again in the future. The evil gods within the mannish pantheon are constantly jockeying for position over one another and to attempt to unseat the Hammerer. He has done battle with Dinismayl and Vodei; in the Fifth Age he manifested an avatar to protect the city of Miles from a Wyrm under the Winter Queen’s thrall.

While he commands a number of gods that report directly to him (Halor, Tallial, and Vaela being the three most directly under his governance), Haeron has many allies he can rely on. Chief amongst these are his brother, Eiri, and the Sun-goddess, Avauna. His elder brother, Aros, has always been a thorn in his side, good-natured though he may be.

Haeron is the youngest of the four gods known as the Quartos, which are Eiri, Aros, Vodei, and himself. They were born from the world-tree and served Avauna in the earliest ages of the world.
The chief of gods often appears as an old man with a long white beard and a broad chest, wearing a simple white linen toga and carrying a long-hafted smith’s hammer in his right hand. This image of him was first seen by Aeldus the Prophet, who was visited by the god during the early First Empire and brought his worship to Miles.

The Church
Clergy: Speciality priests, paladins, monks, crusaders
Clergy’s Alignment: LG, LN
Turn Undead: Yes
Command Undead: No

The temple of Haeron is widespread and powerful. They have a strictly hierarchical organization that radiates outwards from the Temple of the Lawkeeper in Miles. They often find themselves integrated into local society as judges and adjudicators due to their devotion to law. However, Hierean priests will not submit to local rule which they find objectionable. For example, there are few Hierean priests in Essad, the Free Cities, or other places where enslavement is commonly practiced.

Hieriean temples are often elaborate affairs, large buildings of marble with domes or high raised tympanum roofs. Unlike many temples in the North, they maintain spaces of public worship within. Members of the inner cult may walk further into the temple than simple lay worshipers, but there is still a very elaborately decorated public worship hall provided. This is partly because of the relationship many Hieriean temples have with the  local authorities.

In many lands, while custom is dictated by the nobility, breaches of custom are judged by the clerics of Haeron. This is done by bringing the offender to the largest nearby temple and presenting them before the head of the temple there, who is often called a Hierus. The Hierus (or the Metropolitan, Hierophant, or Divine) sits in a tall throne just before the anvil-shaped altar called a menraius. The menraii are massive seats with a long set of stairs before them upon which the priest must ascend. Once seated in a menraius the judgements of guilt and innocence are thought to descend from on high.

The ordering of the temples of Haeron is done according to the ancient central manuscript known as the Scroll of Law, which is a collection of dictates, stories, tracts, and oracular readings. The particular section concerned with temple organization is known as the Orijenula and was written by the first High Lawkeeper, Orijenus. 

The lowest rank amongst the temples is that of novice. Ascending through the true orders (novices have yet to pass the test of priesthood) are the Peacewards who may be pastoral or remain at a single temple, the Dictate who help administer temple grounds, the Speakers who may give blessings and conduct ceremonies, and the temple’s High Priest who alone may pronounce judgements. Every region also has a Hierophant (in the case of a district without any great cities) or a Metropolitan. These are each organized into twelve great districts known as the Divinities, and each is ruled by a Hierophant known as a Divine.

The Twelve Divines sit beneath the High Lawkeeper at Miles and upon his death they are bound to choose a member of the order that is not one of their number to replace the deceased Lawkeeper.

Dogma: The philosophy of Haeron is an ancient one that has evolved over the centuries and been added to in copious commentaries by famous sages. At its heart, however, the dogma states that Haeron alone made the bonds of law (called the “golden bonds”) and that law itself, while it is generally little more than a collection of customary punishments in the North in the modern age, still represents the very bedrock upon which relationships can exist. In essence, Haeron provides the structure and fabric of any modern society.

However, the golden bonds are not simply chains to keep things the way they are. Stultification and putrefaction is not the goal of the Law. To this end Haeron tolerates a great many other gods who have viewpoints quite opposed to his own. Indeed, many Hierean clerics would rather see the spirit of the law fulfilled than its letter though they may feel beholden to it.

The clerics of Haeron will not strive openly against a kingdom in which they have temples; they may attempt to change it from the inside by supporting more liberal elements within the kingdom. However, if the cult maintains no temples within a land that espouses views it despises it may dispatch clerics to fight against the men of that land.

Much of the Hierien doctrine comes from the Scrolls of Law, which are a collection of rules, predictions, and prayers that represent the collected wisdom of the clergy. The section detailing the organization of the priesthood, the Orijenula (named after the first Lawkeeper and compiler, Orijen) is the most commonly referenced, for it encapsulates the structure of the church and the behavior of its priests.

Day-to-Day Activities: Most clerics of Haeron remain attached to a temple rather than traveling about. There they pray and attend to the needs of the faithful, both members of the inner cult and those who are simply lay-worshipers. Lesser Hiereans may never have the opportunity to judge a case, but those who are masters of temples may do so several times a year or more. While they do not pass judgement on punishment, they do determine guilt or innocence in several kingdoms that recognize them.
In the morning, the Peacewards wake with the dawn to begin a long series of prayers to the Hammerer. After these are completed, they tend to the altars of their temple and service the needs of locals who must make sacrifices or who desire to pray. 

Some of the clerics may attend to lords and nobles during the day, serving as wage-paid clerks or scribes, though this is hardly their primary task. Still, they often charge less than professional scribes and their work is good, if done in a stead and restrained style.

Every temple also maintains a sacred archive or vault in which the records of every trial, decision, and judgement of the local lords are stored. Many clerics are required to help keep these and to collate and copy the records into new bindings for transport on the Clerk’s Feast.

Holy Days/Important Ceremonies: The Clerk’s Feast is the most important holy day for the clergy of Haeron. It occurs on the 18th of Festing every year and, on that day, the clerics of Haeron send their bound copies of rulings to the temple of the High Lawkeeper in Miles. Additionally, every five years sitting clerics must travel to the office of their Divine (known as the Pilgrimage of Faith) and sit before the Council of Elect where they are questioned to make sure they are capable of maintaining their office.

There is a public festival known as Haeron’s Feast which occurs on the 20th of Festing, two days after the Clerk’s Feast. On this day, all locals are invited into the temples and given food and drink before the anvil-shaped altar where they are encouraged to give thanks before the Hammerer and to atone for whatever wrongdoings they may have done that have gone unpunished throughout the year.

Major Centers of Worship: The Temple of the High Lawkeeper at Miles is the center of Hieriean worship the world over. The Twelve Divines all report to the High Lawkeeper and the massive complex is the heart of the religion, storing hundreds of thousands of scrolls and serving as a staging ground for advocates, clerics, and business from all over the empire.

Other major landmarks include Haeron’s Stone, which stands some thirty or forty miles from the capital and is where Aeldus the Prophet first heard the voice of the Hammerer. There are other shrines and great sites, but they are generally far afield.

Recently, the emperor himself has declared a new ground consecrated: the site of the Battle of Byrnam Wood where the Sign of the Hammer blazed across the heavens to mark Tamerin ElsoĂ­n as the rightful ruler of Miles.

Affiliated Orders: Temples of Haeron are closely associated with the worship of his direct subjects in the pantheon: Vaela, Halor, and Tallial. For this reason, the Order of the Sword Militant is often associated with Haeron. The Sacred Heralds of Vaela operate from a base in the Lawkeeper’s Temple of Miles. Within the Empire, any offerings made to Tallial are made by War Heralds that keep shrines within Hieriean temples.

Priestly Vestments: Ordained Peacewards of Haeron are given strict dictates on what their clothing should entail, as set forth by the Orijenular Laws of the Scrolls.The sacral servants of Haeron must wear white robes belted with gold and trimmed with a thick blue filigree. The rank of the priest is revealed by an increasing amount of gold thread used in the filigree and the width of the blue bands.
High priests wear brass or golden circlets to denote that they are the masters of a specific temple and have the chief right to sit in the seat of judgement. All clerics wear golden amulets in the shape of the hammer.

Adventuring Garb: The Orijenula states that “priests, when in need, may choose to wear whatever suits them,” but goes on to express strict guidelines on arms and armor. They are never to be ostentatious or gaudy, for war is a grim and ugly business. They are “permitted to bear the hammer worked upon them in brass or silver, but not in gold. Never should their weapons be sources of pride.” This last rule has been circumvented by the use of staffs and gavels that double as holy symbols and walking sticks yet may also be considered weapons: in this way, many priests throughout the years have laid claim to gaudy golden weapons encrusted with jewels.

Peaceward of Haeron
(Specialty Priest)

REQUIREMENTS: Wisdom 15, Intelligence 11
PRIME REQ: Wisdom
ALIGNMENT: LG
WEAPONS: All bludgeoning weapons.
MAJOR SPHERES: All, Creation, Combat, Elemental (fire, air), Charm, Law
MINOR SPHERES: Healing, Protection, Wards, Weather, Guardian
MAGICAL ITEMS: The same as priests.
REQ. PROFS: Religion
BONUS PROFS: Law (local region), Reading/Writing (cleric’s choice)

Peacewards may cast command (as per the 1st level priest spell) once per day in addition to any other spells prayed for. The Peaceward may issue a command composed of one word at level one. For every three levels the character has attained, they may add an additional word to their command.

At 3rd level, a Peaceward may cast the spell spiritual hammer (as per the 2nd level priest spell) once per day. Any castings of spiritual hammer, prayed for or otherwise, require no material components.

At 5th level, a Peaceward’s bless (as per the 1st level priest spell) allows any lawful creature it affects to strike creatures that are immune to magical weapons of less than +1.

At 7th level, clerics of Haeron may increase their strength to 18/00 once per day for three rounds. This ability lasts for an additional round for every three levels the Peaceward obtains. If the Peaceward already has a strength of 18/00 or higher, they simply receive a +1 bonus to hit and damage.

At 10th level, Peacewards can use true seeing (as per the 5th level cleric spell) at will. 

At 15th level, Peacewards may cast Heal (as per the 6th level cleric spell) three times per day.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Sunday Sneak: Imperial Magnates

Another excerpt from what will become the boxed set, this details the regions of the empire and the magnates that rule them:


The lords of each duchy and county play important roles in the governance of the empire. They’ve been listed here for your convenience along with the most powerful magi and the heads of the great cults that call the empire home.

The Principalities of Westreth and Lomere: The emperor’s cousin, Balduen Galoen, rules these central lands from his familial seat in Tourons. While the emperor is descended from a cadet branch of the Galoen house, Balduen himself can claim true descent from the Watchmasters of old and the ancient Kings of Westreth. The Prince of Westreth bears a three-towered fortress upon a field of azure.

The Duchy of Auruxol: Darius Anarjent was elevated by Tamerin to the status of duke early in his reign. Most of the other high nobility see Darius as a toady, always willing to bend to the whim of the emperor and in this they are right: Auruxol provides the main supply of gold to the emperor’s coffers. The Duke of Auruxol bears three coins of gold on a black field.

The Grand Duchy of Byrne: Mellene Allore, Duchess of Byrne, inherited the title from her father, Kamelin, who had been a king before Byrne’s subjugation. Her elder sister, Leylia, was married to the emperor against her will. Still, Mellene tries to appease the emperor to make her sister’s life easier. The Grand Duchess of Byrne bears a pair of crossed sable battle axes on a field of erminois.

The Duchy of Mermarche: The Duke of the Seareach is Theolus Amvor, a man who is like an uncle to Prince Balduen but who despises the emperor deeply. He’s a vigorous politician and a capable warrior much beloved by his people. The Duke of Mermarche bears a cog on a blue field with a wavy chief of silver.

The Duchy of Paix: Elena of Paix, ruler of the South Hamlets, is a quiet and withdrawn sorceress who holds her power close. She can be a fierce supporter of the emperor and an implacable foe if she believes his policy is misguided. The Duchess of Paix bears three ruby-and-gold rings facing inwards on a field divided per pall azure, gules, and sable.

The Tenury of Agrilla: Grandmaster Jacques Sarjent is the head of the Order of the Sword Militant; a rigidly honorable paladin, Sarjent cares little for the internal politics of the empire and seeks instead only to point the order always at worthy external foes. The Grandmaster is entitled to bear the arms of the Sword Militant: a single blade point downwards surmounted by a blue rod of captaincy on a gray field.

The County of Cendre: Count Arlendus Valnascius, a hard-bitten warrior, rules the county of Cendre and keeps it safe from the dangers of the Whitespear Mountains. He’s known for his brusqueness and the up-front nature he deals with problems, something which does not endear him at court. The Count of Cendre bears a spear of argent on a sable chief and a bend azure on a field or.

The County of Coer: Regald of Coer is said to be a cruel, vain, and dangerous man who killed his half-brother Felix to gain his seat. Whether or not this is true, he rules Coer with his younger brother, the mage Vulminus. Together they seek only the betterment of their family and their own county. The Count of Coer bears a lion rampant gules on a field d’or.

The County of Crestley: Crestley County is ruled by Lord Sereus Crestley, who has spent his life defending the Channel Profunda against oceanic raiders. He is something of a sea-knight, though he has grown old in his station. He is an eminently pragmatic man, though he can be as dangerous as Vodei if crossed. The Count of Crestley bears three fish argent on a field azure. 

The County of Dirkshire: Lord Robart Alere, of the ancient Alere line, is the count of Dirkshire and Bataille. He is said to be a young man of great melancholies. He prefers to remain potlically neutral. He is rumored to be protected by the elf-wizard Telendril the Illuminated, who protected his father before him. The Count of Dirkshire bears a scroll impaled upon a blade sable all upon a field of purpure.

The Lamp Country: The chief representative of the Lamp Country is the Grand Mayor Falthus Milkroot of Hilling. He reports directly to the High Lawkeeper, as the Lamp Country was technically given over to the Temple of Miles long before the Third Empire was founded. He is a cheerful, fat little halfling who speaks for the entire Aldercouncil of the Lamp Country. The Grand Mayor may wear (though rarely does) a golden lamp on a black field.

The Lonely Land: This wild region falls under the rough command of Sieur Amory Lunly, a knight who’s throat was torn open in some deadly encounter in his youth, leaving his voice harsh and low. While he cannot command the various barons and castellans of the land, he is tasked with leading the Lonely Watch which brings him a great deal of respect amongst them. He bears a lantern argent and a sword in the chief on a field of sable, the sign of the Watch.

The County of Montrose: Jolie Rabmont, Lord of Montrose, is said to be anything but. He is a grim and humorless man, devoted entirely to the worship of Akem and the contemplation of death. His father still lives, having given up his countship to retire to an Akemite monastery. The Count of Montrose bears a heraldic red rose with four lobes growing from a hill on a field verde.

The County of Noranos: Lord Dorain Mergal, Master of the Fleet, rules the county of Noranos and the city of Noranos itself. He’s a large, happy man—happy as only a fat man can be. He loves adventurers, mostly because htey make good fodder to help clear out bastions of Reaver elves. The Count of Noranos and Master of the Fleet bears a blue star on a white field.

The Outer Shires: The Outer Shires have no single ruler; each shire is ruled by a council of magnates and barons. The representative to the imperial curia is known as the Grand Reeve who is entitled to wear a portcullis d’or on a field verde. This Reeve is elected by the magnate councils once every three years.

The County of RĂ»n: Lord Thovus of RĂ»n has five sons, all of whom travel with him wherever he goes. He’s one of the oldest lords in the demesne and needs the support of his children, physically, to attend court. Withered and ancient but supposedly cunning as well, Thovus commands one of the poorer counties of the empire–yet he always seems to be flush with gold. The Count of RĂ»n bears a quartered field of gules and sable.

The County of Serpentis: Duke Leonus of Savont is known as a cunning man, shifty of allegiance. To his credit, it seems as though he makes decisions not for his own gain, but for the people of his province. He rarely leads men himself, though the region is in constant need of sword-arms to fight the lizardfolk and troglodytes that infest its swamps. The Count of Serpentis bears a serpent couchant chief on a field or per fess sable nowy.

The County of TournĂ©se: Althis Valtour is a young parvenu; his father perished in the Byrnish War. He is a lover of all things adventuresome and magical and will gladly sponsor adventurers of whatever stripe. He bucks against law and order frequently, often riding out as though he himself were an adventurer. The Count of TournĂ©se bears a tower d’or chief on a field divided per fess azure and sable.

The County of Vaelaron: Lady Mitheria Vae, Countess of Vaelaron, is a time-worn matron with an eye for land in Agrilla as well as in the Byrnish Waste. She’s a suave politician who despises the excesses of the imperial court and prefers her backcountry estates. The Countess of Vaelaron bears a sheaf of three arrows gules downpointed on a field d’or.

The Westmarch: Count Calcis Vigilis of the Westmarch is a bellicose man with broad shoulders and a beard. He’s considered somewhat uncouth, being a marcher lord, though with the capture of Byrne Westmarch is no longer a front save against the bandits of the Byrnish Waste. The Count of Westmarch bears a great battle axe d’or on a field purpure.

The Imperial Wizard: Lord Julianus, High Wizard of the Imperial Court and technically the master of all mages and magical law within the empire, lives and works from the imperial domus. He’s a short man with iron grey hair and a serious attitude about his work. He is entitled to bear the ancient sign of three golden sunbursts on a field of purpure.

The High Lawkeeper: Ellarent Pellas is the chief authority in the Temple of Miles, which serves Haeron. He’s the chief jurist and advocate of the entire realm, master of the Twelve Divines that run the cult, and ultimate authority on matters of canon and church law. He’s a slender middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard who believes first and foremost of the upright nature of the law and those who abide by it.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Taking Death in Stride

A while back I mentioned that death should be important. Recently, several characters in the Hounds game died, and I've been considering methods of getting players back into the groove without forcing them to be 3-4 levels behind the party. While there's something to be said for starting at level one (indeed, it was I who said it), there's also something to be said for not being a huge number of levels behind. For one thing, a character that underleveled is going to be a constant hinderance at every turn and will be in far more danger than the other characters in the party. I think it's reasonable to start people back at level one when the party is scattered along the trail between 2-3 but being inserted into a party that's all 4 going on 5 is really a bummer.

The new method I've adopted is allowing them to create characters with a set amount of experience (generally enough to get a single-classed fighter to the average level of the party). This doesn't account for magic, though, and I have in the past been guilty of allowing newly created characters in parties of an average level of 3+ to roll for random magical items. This has resulted in a revolving door of characters with permanent magic who enter the game, die because they are overzealous, not protected enough, or simply unlucky, and leave their magic with the party. This magical inflation needed to be combatted somehow (and I managed to remove at least one of the offending weapons by direct insight from a god warning that it was evil—it helps that it was a slave overseer's club used to beat rebellious slaves in Essad).

An answer has been lying under my nose all the time: the Monstrous Manual adventurer entry, under the human heading. There are percentile chances for adventurers to be carrying magical items by class and level listed there, which has allowed me to give a chance of magic without the necessity. Starting new members at level 3 also reduces the chances that they will die simply because they are lower level than the rest of the party or because they didn't have enough monetary resources to buy themselves armor. This reduces the death rate of incoming characters and thus increases the retention rate of magic.

Another interesting note about characters who join with a few levels on them: they're ripe for having their backstory explored. There's a whole passel of problems that arises when you try to play in a historical period that has already happened in a character's lifetime (for example, what if they get scarred? What if they die? What if they get a bunch more xp and are actually higher level?) but those can be addressed as they come up.

So it seems I've refined my argument about starting people at a level higher than one. I do believe there's good cause to do so, even in the higher level parties, but in my experience the players of those characters tend not to want to play them as lower level and to engage fully in whatever adventuring is going on. That, of course, leads to even more untimely deaths.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Extending the Medieval Paradigm

This is somewhat related to the idea of a permanent medieval stasis that has "descended" on a lot of classical fantasy worlds. Of course, being one of the elements of medieval fantasy, it would seem counterintuitive to create a world that wasn't suspended in it. After all, one of the reasons we play games like Dungeons and Dragons, Castles and Crusaders, and Tunnels and Trolls is because we want dungeons, dragons, castles, crusaders, tunnels, and trolls. To remove or hamper the medieval aspect of medieval fantasy is to take it completely out of its element.

SO we have a profoundly ahistorical goal of preserving a certain type of world to play in. How can we reconcile that with the constant change that history displays? I'm certain some would say that it doesn't matter, that the topic should be dropped as either having no solution or being immaterial. But for me and for the people I play with, that non-answer isn't enough.

Historicizing, periodizing, and elaborating on the fantastic medieval can lead us down a fruitful path. Firstly, knowing that constant change and permutation are the hallmarks of a historical world (stasis and sameness being the hallmarks of an ahistorical one) we can immediately set out to give some dynamism to a fantasy setting by periodizing it. By establishing rough periods in the past where things weren't the same as they are now, we are already breaking the ahistorical model. Not to say that no books or settings do this, but some do not. If everything is cloaks and castles all the way back to the beginning of recorded time, we are presented with an unattractive ahistorical model that will reasonably illicit irritation in those interacting with it (the caveat, of course, "unless that's what they were looking for," is eternally present throughout this argument).

The first question we have to examine is one about the composition of the paradigm itself. The elements that we identify as being critical to the medieval paradigm are mostly stylistic and technological. Castles, tunics, hosen, horses, knights, fidelity, and the underlying social structure that leads to inequality and a military class are all important. Those things changed in our actual history, into a Victorian leisured nobility where romance and free time became the defining characteristics of a society of civil service. How can we preserve those elements and still call ourselves historical?

One of the biggest things we can do is halt the progress of science. I think I've already discussed how magic inhibits scientific thought (theoretically, of course) due to the way it "cheats." The analysis of the world would be conducted under a mystical/Art umbrella rather than a logical/scientific one. Magic breaks the rules, so manipulating the environment according to the rules becomes less important.

With technology mostly confined to stasis, we can safely move on to surface styles. If surface style and social structure are the only things that change (within a confined set of boundaries) we can effectively preserve the fantastic middle ages through any permutation. Fashion needn't advance to pants, it can remain within the realm of non-bifurcated garments (tunics!) forever. Just because our history introduced the suit there's no reason to think a fantastic history wouldn't develop variants of tunics, cloaks, &etc that look much more like their medieval predecessors.

Of course, the farther we get from a standard medieval groundpoint the more fantastic the setting becomes. But isn't that the point of fantasy, after all?

PS. After thinking about it for a while, I realized that I tend to actually try to draw on a completely divergent milieux: one that mingles the standard medieval fantasy with a sort of classical revival of paganism and classical non-Christian values descended not from the medieval church but rather straight from ancient Greece, Egypt, and Rome.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Trade Routes of Arunia


Below you shall find the major trading goods of various regions as well as a bit of strange information collected by Reynarius di Llun.

Atva-Arunë
The Skinchanger Kingdoms
Hardroot, a small brush that grows near large trees, Hardroot is said to have restorative properties.
Skins and Furs (primary trade)
Tin and Iron (lots of iron)
Jet
Amber
Oddities: Skinchangers exist in much greater numbers amongst the Northmen than they do in the heartland. Northmen sometimes wield great two-handed swords, the use of which are rarely seen by heartland warriors.

The Inner Sea
Olive oil
Glimmerwine and Firewine, a general term for mulled hot wine
Spices from Ralashar; pepper (major), saffron, lavender, cardamom

Arunë-Oriens
Moon Kingdoms
Silk (from Diaojiong)
Spices; pepper (minor) and cinnamon (large amounts), clove
Tin (huge trade!)
Garnet, onyx
White gold
Oddities: Goblin-priests of both sexes often wear jewelry that are traditionally “female” in Atva-ArunĂ«; earrings, necklaces. They also perfume themselves extensively (not with alcohol based perfumes, as these do not exist in the 10th Age; rather, with pomanders and other strong-scented caches of herbs, spices, or incense as well as thick salves and essential oils suspended in fat). Indeed, all Moon Goblins are fond of perfume and incense.

Hadash
Sweetwater (a rose-flavored liquor favored by Rayans)
Dragon’s Tongue, a virulent weed that possess toxic properties
Hearthblossom, a flower that only opens at night and glows orange like a fire
Magestone, a purple-black semi-transparent stone said to be more valuable for working magic than even emeralds.
Oddities: The men of Hadash are said to be partially descended from elves, colonies having been established there during the early seafaring period of the elvish kingdoms. They have an intense love for silver, and mint no gold coins, valuing silver much more highly. They are a dark-skinned folk with sharp clever features, so it may be that the rumors are true. Myth speaks of elvish communities hidden in the high desert.

Ishtria
Shadowbloom, thought to be a kindred plant to the Hearthblossom, the Shadowbloom is a purple flower that only blooms during the day. Scholars say that it is perceptibly cooler near a patch of shadowbloom.
Seagrass, cultivated by the few dwarven colonies in Ishtria, Seagrass makes for a disgusting cocktail when fermented; however, it is better than the salt-water near the dwarven port halls. Seagrass Wine is particularly reviled in the north.
Glass, Ishtria and Khewed alone maintain a widespread glass production trade. Thus, almost all glass in use by men comes from Ishtria or Khewed via Ninfa. The same cannot be said of dwarves and elves, who have their own glass manufactories.
Cloves
Desert Sapphires, are a very valuable form of amber that are prized by all races of the north and seem to be found only in desert climes.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Silks, damask, and other things

Silk, the Tyrfian Cloth
While the only sources of silk in Arunia are trade routes, and all these trade routes wind through Mugharia and ultimately to Zhongguo, it enters the northern world by way of the Moon Kingdoms and the Free Cities. The final port of call outside Arunia is the great goblin city of Mamil al-Tyfir, so for this reason it is sometimes known as the Tyrfian Cloth.

Damask, Shalm
The process of weaving wool or linen onto silk was originated in the great Ishtrian weaving capitol of as-Sham along the eastern coasts of that desert land. Ships from Ishtria often make their way to Ninfah and the Trident Isles bearing good loads of the stuff since it sells so well in the Milean Empire and Llyris. Through translation, the name of the stuff has come to be a Varanized version of the very place where it was made; as-Sham -> Shalm.

Arras, Dolnon cloth
The weaving associated with Arras takes place in the Republic of Meirenia due to its massive export of wools. The finest tapestries in the north are of Dolnon cloth and by extension these incredibly expensive and well-made tapestries have taken on that name.

Champaign, Casvannan
While Champaign only comes from Champaign, its equivalent in Arunia only comes from the Silversong region of Casvannan. While others have mastered the art of adding bubbles to wine, only the semi-sweet and dry grapes of the Casvannan can truly be referred to by their proper name.

Port, Ruby wine
Brewed by dwarves, this fortified wine comes from the Arinnfal. Since the process by which distillation occurs is still a highly guarded dwarven and/or alchemical secret, the production of ruby wine is limited to those areas with the knowledge to perform that alcoholic distillation (which are few and far between). Also called dwarf wine.

Spice wine, glimmerwine/firewine
Wine spiced with pepper from Ralashar is universally known as glimmerwine or firewine (if the pepper content is high enough). It may also contain cardamom, cinnamon, and even saffron if the server is wealthy.

Patterned steel, Ishtrian Steel
The steel type normally associated with Damascus in our world is produced all throughout the Dominions of Ishtria and Hadash and imported into Arunia only rarely. Ishtrian steel is prized for its beauty and flexibility.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Pantheon Monday: Kypselus, the Black Hand


KYPSELUS
(the Lord of Sin, the Black Hand)

Lesser God, LE
Portfolio: Corruption, decay, transgression
Aliases: Kipzelos
Domain Name: Palace of the Black Hand, Valingas
Superior: None
Allies: Talleal, The Necromancer, Dinismayl, Ulagos
Foes: Haeron, Avauna
Symbol: A black hand
Worshipper Alignment: Any evil

Kypselus (KIP-sel-uss) the Black Hand is said to be the son of Ulagos the Potter and Nyxos the Husband-Eater. As one of his natural children, Kypselus is part of the ranks of the so-called Felnumen or Mud Gods.

The Lord of Sin himself is a master of deals, bargains, and creeping corruptions. He represents both physical decay and moral collapse. His followers, while few amongst the demihuman races, are much more numerous amongst the monstrous creatures—goblinoids, ogres, and trolls particularly.

He relishes swamps, sinkholes, and corpses (though not of elves, which are immune to his touch). It’s Kypselus who is said to walk amongst the dead and encourage them to decay. Ghouls and ghasts are supposedly creatures of his own creation and are considered particularly sacred. These undead traditionally serve the priests of corruption and are used as temple servants and warriors.

In appearance, Kypselus resembles a squatting orc with pure black skin and a grotesquely knotty beard extending from his chin. He is frequently shown wearing smoke-black armor as well.

The Church
Clergy: Specialty priests, warriors
Clergy’s Alignment: LE, NE, CE
Turn Undead: No
Command Undead: Yes

The so-called church of Kypselus is extremely minor and mostly underground in good aligned lands. Monstrous humanoids worship him in much larger numbers than humans or demi-humans do but the power of the priesthood generally resides in human hands.

Temples of Kypselus are generally small affairs, located in caves and out of the way places. Carrion is frequently piled up in the sanctum and murders are often committed simply for the bodies: carrion crawlers and ghouls are favorites of the cult to keep as servants and pets.

The monstrous humanoids that are part of the cult often work in close tandem with evil demihumans to help provide a fresh source of dead flesh for their god.

Local high priests are known as Black Hierophants and are generally mid-level or higher. These Hierophants each have the same weight within the cult and are chosen by approbation of Kypselus himself, who visits the clergy with nightmarish dreams of the Hierophant’s ascension.
Dogma: That which crumbles is glorious, that which dies sublime.

Day-to-Day Activities: Apart from waylaying travelers disguised as bandits, committing murders in towns, and generally praying in the dark corners of the land, the clergy of Kypselus also ministers to local monstrous humanoids. They get along well with Talliates and love battles between local monstrous powers.

Major Centers of Worship: None, the cult is too scattered to have loci.

Affiliated Orders: None.

Priestly Vestments: All priestly clothes are gray, green, or black. Clerics often wear copes with the Black Hand embroidered on them.

Adventuring Garb: Priests on the move and ready for battle tend to wear black-and-green armor, the most common of which is mail. If they can get their hands on plate (which is rare) it is generally because of some minor treaty with a dark power like evil giants.

Priest of the Black Hand
(Specialty Priest)

REQUIREMENTS: Con 12, Wis 9
PRIME REQ: Wisdom
ALIGNMENT: Lawful Evil
WEAPONS: All blunt, daggers, whips, scourges
MAJOR SPHERES: All, charm, divination, healing, necromantic, thought
MINOR SPHERES: Astral, elemental earth (non-reversible), protection
MAGICAL ITEMS: Normal priestly
REQ. PROFS: None
BONUS PROFS: None

Kypselians are immune to level draining and mindless undead naturally ignore them unless they attack first. They may also corrupt food and drink three times per day by touch.

At 3rd level, priests of corruption may use the spell friends 3/day.

At 5th level, priests of corruption may enchant any object or weapon they are wielding with an effect similar to the wizard spell enchanted weapon once per day. The spell grants a +1 bonus at level 5, a +2 bonus at level 10, and a +3 bonus at level 15.

At 7th level, the priest of corruption may ghoul touch 3/day as per the spell of the same names.

At 10th level, the priest becomes immune to all forms of death magic.

At 15th level, the priest may throw spells as though under the effects of an eyebite spell at all times (this ability applies to all spells that affect a single target in a deleterious way). In addition, they gain the ability to cast the wizard spell Contagion 3/day.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

The Sunday Sneak: More Boxed Set Goodness

This from a sidebar passage in the Third Empire section:

Imperial Tax Law
Under Imperial tax law, all tenants of a lord’s demesne are required to render service as a sort of tax. This labor is used to till the lord’s fields, plant his crops, and harvest his grains. This form of tax is also found in cities where the required labor is used to repair roads, build public structures, and maintain aqueducts or sewers (in those cities ancient enough to possess either) as well as to repair walls. Residents can commute these costs to gold, though such commutation is fairly rare and onerous—the gold-price of a day of labor is generally set as higher than the wages of someone working, so the lord can both make up for the lost labor and profit from the commutation.

There are several kinds of peasants and their taxes are assessed differently depending on their status and the amount of land they own. These are:

Virgaters: the wealthiest peasants, they own a virgate of land or more. Whether they are servile (cannot sell the land, owe two workdays a week instead of one every two weeks, etc.) or free is independent of their wealth.

Half-virgaters: those who own less than a virgate but enough to feed themselves, these peasants are generally free. They owe one workday every three weeks (two every three weeks if they are servile).

Cotters: peasants who own only a cottage (or in extreme cases, a cot) they must supplement their farming labor with work for the lord or other local peasants in return for enough to feed themselves. They owe only the one traditional labor a year, the great harvest (at which they are fed in return for their several days of work).

All people living in a city are assessed ad censum, or by head, meaning that larger families tend to owe more in terms of labor. While labor commutation is rare or almost nonexistent in the towns and vills, it is common in cities for it to be commuted to kind (butter, apples, etc., assessed as a value of the labor provided) or in gold, particularly when the peasant is a wealthy merchant glad to be free of traditional labor-duty. Still, it is not uncommon to see a work-gang composed of city-folk who are providing their traditional one work-day a month for their magnate.
The Belted Knight
Amongst the men of the north you may hear the term “belted knight” bandied about quite a bit. Even in elvish lands, you’re likely to hear someone speak of the “sworn” or “anointed” knights. The conception of knighthood is not invariable, however; the precise meaning of that phrase depends on where you find yourself.

Knights, general. The term knight comes from the Eylic/Orthr word for a servant, particularly a boy-servant. In High Varan they are called milites which refers instead to ancient soldiers of the empire. No matter where you are, the concept of knighthood has a military aspect. It evolved over time from an apparent union of horsemanship and military service and knights are generally associated with horses (or mounts of some kind) throughout the north.

Imperial - Term: Milite Honorific: Sieur
In the empire, knights are elite soldiers supported by grants of field and property form their lord. These fields are worked by the local peasants that owe labor to the demesne, thus freeing the knight for military service. Attaining knighthood is, like many imperial offices, celebrated by a vigil and the award of a special and distinctive belt, in this case a gold-paneled sword-belt with scenes of battle and blessings inscribed on it.

Knights may be chosen for other duties besides their military ones or in addition to them, adding to the stipend received from their lords. Serving as bailiffs is a common use of knights, as is being promoted to a magisterial position to oversee the local curia and law courts. Knights in the empire are technically possessed of that mystical quality nobilis and can never be considered to be servile under any legal definition of the term.

Imperial knights are generally created to help lords meet the legal requirement of supporting elite warriors from their lands. However, it is also possible to be knighted for performing some extraordinary service to a lord, usually a military one. Knightship is not hereditary, nor are the children of a knight necessarily expected to serve (though they certainly have a leg up, as they are generally trained by the local master-at-arms).

In the empire, fidelity is generally taken to mean devotion to a house or noble family. Knights, ideally, will be deferential to all members of the family which elevated them and do their best to serve the interests of the family as a whole. Many of the new-style of imperial tragedies focus on the conflicting loyalties a knight must feel for both his emperor and his lord.

Elvish - Term: Vannottu Honorific: Tyr
Elvish knights are anointed for a number of reasons, generally military ones as well. Unlike imperial knights, elves made into Vannottunoi are considered to be personally bonded with the noble who knighted them. While a strong element of fidelity is common to all knights the land over, elvish knights do not necessarily feel an attachment to the house of their lord, but to their lord himself.

Unlike imperial knights, elvish knights rarely fight unmounted. They serve as traveling companions and elite swordsmen, eschewing the use of most other weapons as blunt or inelegant tools for battle. Elvish knighthood has a religious element as well, though it is intertwined with the notion of personal loyalty to one’s lord.

Elvish knights, unlike most others, form a hereditary class from which they are drawn. They are the least of the elvish noble class in any kingdom (to be elevated to knighthood for battle is far less glorious than to be elevated, for example, for brilliant poetry to a lordship). Elvish knights train for most of their young lives, mastering the sword and shield as well as horsemanship or, in the case of Vesimian Sea-knights or Talimisian Sky-knights, ships and pegasi.

Friday, February 15, 2013

The Iscoine of Silversong

While elves who study both staff and sword are not rare, they are far from common. In the elvish kingdom of Silversong, there are always nobles willing to grant benefices to keep some of these knights sorcerous in their retainers. No one, however, can quite match King Anundarien's Sworn Swords—the Iscoine. These are a small group of elite warrior-mages, chosen by Anundarien himself, who stay with the king at all times.

The idea of an Iscoine Guard can be traced back to the first Alotournian kings who succeeded the Green Wizard rulers immediately after the War of the Moon. The Hightowers were petrified of assassins (and with good reason; the Green Wizards had ruled Silversong in the place of the royals for centuries due to the mass-assassinations of the royal family during the War of the Moon) and they kept those well-versed in magic and swordplay near them at all times.

Anundarien founded the Iscoine in X.89 by inducting three potent magi into his household. Many speculated at that time that he was making a power-play against the Estari of the Green Wizards but it seemed he was simply increasing his own personal defenses. Though the Green Wizards technically sit in Anundarien's camp, they are rarely politically active. It's speculated that they would protect the king if a rebellion or civil war were to erupt and they have fought the forest goblins in the past, but they rarely carry water for him and never act as enforcers.

Soon their numbers grew to eight and then to twelve, at which the king ceased appointing new Iscoine. He said that there should ever be twelve of them and if one should fall he would ask me to find a new one. They have acted as both his personal body-elves as well as his agents throughout the land. They have doubled as personal messengers when Anundarien could not trust anyone else. Even after he passes into the West, I imagine that the tradition of the Iscoine will continue in the Silver-song Forest.
 —Tormenlinel, Royal Chronicler, Silversong

The Iscoine are each granted several holdings (which they must administer in absentia) from which they draw rather large incomes as well as unlimited access to the Tower Library in the palace. They live, eat, and spend much of their time with the royal Blade Dancers who form a lesser arm of body-elves in the palace. As Tormenlinel wrote above, there are only ever twelve Iscoine at any given time and they may be assigned to tasks the king cannot trust to anyone else in addition to their normal duties guarding his person. It's rumored that the Iscoine have developed a number of spells between them which they alone share, particularly spells designed to hamper, hinder, slow, or translocate potential foes away from the king.

The Twelve Iscoine are:


  • Alomendyl the Flower of Battle
It was said that when Alomendyl first bowed before Anundarien, the Towerborn king set Gandirion of the Ruby Staff against him. The two magi were so evenly matched that their spells sizzled to a draw; it was only when Alomendyl drew his sword that his epithet rang true...
  • Sarosinithia the Fire-witch
...but in the 4th century, Sarosinithia was dispatched northwards to reclaim the lost holdings near the isle of Nysa. Though she did not return for seven years, each morning she would send word to the king by potent magic...
  • Calordilindar of Iiriem
He was a favorite of the Black Prince before his exile, and a court wizard of no small skill, but Calordilindar was only brought to Silversong when he met its king while Anundarien was traveling in disguise. The two elves became close friends, with Calordilindar never knowing who it was he jested to each night over wine...
  • Tholosriel Brightsword
The blade crackled and blazed and spit fire! Tholosriel was an avenging god, Anunia reborn, and he fell upon the goblins and their kin. Brilliant spears of light held them in place while he did his killing work.
  • Calandaryn Silverskin
...but on the third day the haughty Dorl challenged Calandaryn who is called Silverskin. Little did he understand the power of the Oronnoi. It said that even now he spends the last of his years in the Tower of Mourning, mind shattered by the confrontation.
  • Orolindaala Lorewise
...her tutor, thinking her soft, demanded that she repeat the drill. She narrowed her eyes and spoke the ancient words she had learned in secret. It was two full weeks before he could sit upright.
  • Landania the Shadow
For sixteen days Landania hunted the Ashblade. The assassin was skilled in evasion, but each hour brought her closer. When at last the two met, he never knew she was there.
  • Anarlastyn the Setting Star
Rumor claims he got his name from the glittering bejeweled sword he swung, which left a glittering arc like one of the estari falling from the heavens...
  • Naraandinar the Wanderer
...he struck again, the hammer cracking his foe's armor. The Murathan was a fool to think he could best the Wanderer, for while his magic was contained in his rings and axe, the Wanderer could spin new spells out of nothing...
  • Gandirion of the Ruby Staff
The first of the Iscoine, Gandirion never lowered himself to the use of a blade. And yet, it is said that his flickering ruby staff is the match of any swordsman in the forest. None have challenged it and come away to tell the tale.
  • Finduista Swiftblade
A mistress of great magics, Finduista the Swiftblade is kin to Gandirion. Her blade is known in Tyrma as "Hummingbird" for when she wields it no eye can track its arc...
  • Istuindarian Spellfire
...though he was youngest of the Iscoine, he had proved himself time and time again against his foes. The young dragon Azereg, son of Kezmereg, was slain within the boundaries of the Wood thanks in great part to his doing...



Thursday, February 14, 2013

Fiction: The Masque of Faith

For earlier Giancarlo stories: The Pillars of Hercules, The Siege, The Hired Blade pt. 1, The Hired Blade pt. 2, and his Flashing Blades Character Sheet

I was a young and tender age when I found myself coming into Roma. I had always dreamed of that sacred city as a little boy, but more because of the vice and sin it represented than out of any holy duty. It was enough to know that the Curia, that scheming cesspool at Roma's heart, was always after Venetian bounties, Venetian lands, their fingers always dabbling in the affairs of my fair home. I didn't go because I wanted to see the Pope or his toadies, whom I despise even to this day, but because I had met a woman—really not much more than a girl—on a moonlit canal one night and I could not forget her. This was in the full idiocy of my youth, you must understand, so I was willing to do anything to see her again, even travel to the seat of all vices.

And yet! Perhaps I was in luck, for some months before my arrival, who should be installed upon Saint Peter's Throne than Pietro Ottoboni—a Venetian! So as you can imagine my spirits were higher than would otherwise have been even as I strolled in from Ravenna. I sneered at powerful old men and made mock of their phallic noses and their disgusting wigs. The men of Roma appeared to be no different from the men of France; pompified, sisified dandies. A wig like that on the docks of Venezia would get you heaved in the Grand Canal for your troubles! Even Morosini, old fraud that he was, knew better than to wear a wig with his frippery. Though imagining his cannons blasting away the history of the Greeks still causes me to chuckle a little; those greasy oil merchants have long chafed under the Turks and proclaimed that they are the founders of all civilization. To see their monuments reduced to stone splinters and leaning columns never ceases to amuse, and we have Morosini to thank for that.

But I digress! I was there in Roma, near the Porto Flaminia after spending the night in a little coaching house on the road that winds its way down from Florence. Florentine innkeeps are of a much higher quality than Roman ones, or so I have found, and since the inn was visited by Florentines in great number they were required to keep their standards up. Not like those reeking cesspools down in the Aventine nor in the money-sucks of the Vaticani.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

The Obsession of Creation

There's something about making things, particularly unreal places, that touches a core part of me. I feel driven to codify, explain, and expand until every stone, tree, and cottage is real. It sounds like insanity: how can describing a place make it real? In a simple pragmatic sense, it cannot. You can't visit these places, except through a mediatior be it a book, a film, a video game, or a DM. They aren't physically present, which makes any pretense to "reality" a bad joke. And yet...

And yet. There's a way to view these creations through a semiotic lens as being no different than the world around us. Dare I say it? Fantasy worlds can be as real as reality itself. It sounds like the claim of someone experiencing a psychotic break or engaged in the highest level of new age bullshit. There is a difference of course, and that's the mediating factor. The real world is mediated through our senses while fantasy worlds are two steps removed: our senses mediate an experience which itself mediates. Thus, it is at least one step removed from the experience of reality. But the same types of interaction are at play. A sufficiently complex semiotic network is indistinguishable from reality. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Can this be what drives my desire to write down, to explain in excruciating detail, to spend hours dwelling on fantasy realms? Over the past four years I've spent a LOT of time developing Arunia and the 10th Age... and I don't see myself stopping any time soon. Every time I complete a treatise on imperial society or finish fleshing out a map of Agstowe or Soloth I feel a sense of divine accomplishment, a profound satisfaction. I have made Arunia a little more real, or so I tell myself.

I can't figure why I do this. Is it a profound sense of egoism? I began it after reading about Tolkien's journey into creating Middle Earth—I think. Reading that he always claimed to be "discovering" rather than "creating." That's what spurred me on, I suppose, the feeling of being a god. I used to relish that. I don't know if its true anymore, I don't particularly feel like a god while I write. I feel more like a historian now, a medium, a vessel. I don't determine the outcome of events, I try to discover the outcome which feels most "true."

I piece together the past of Arunia the same way I've pieced together the history of the House of Ely or the Carolingian Renaissance—with painstaking research. The only difference is that where I must go to real sources for one, I can "discover" sources for the other. Reading a history book, watching television, reading a novel, even experiences in every day life allow me to find "true" things about Arunia.

Just what the hell is this thing that setting designers do? Is it art? Is it history? Is it madness? Sometimes I must admit that it feels something like madness. Few players indeed will read the detailed descriptions I write and most of those are close friends. I cannot imagine that the 10th Age will ever really get a large following in the OSR or the world beyond that—it's just one of those things that I'm compelled to do, to make it available so that if people did want it, it'd be there.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Societies Besides Man: Elves

We know what most human D&D communities look like: medieval (or mostly Renaissance really, but that's neither here nor there—in the 10th Age they are firmly medieval) towns, hamlets, villages, and cities. But what the hell do elvish cities look like? What about dwarves? There are some vague thoughts of great mountain fastnesses and strange woodland towns, I'm certain, but there Arunia is here to offer you more... so much more.

Note that this segment deals exclusively with wind elves and touches not upon wood, silver, or refuser elves.

Do elves really have peasants? Servants?
Elvish society is filled with farmers and servants. However, what this means to an elf is far different from what it means to a man. One of the important things to recognize is that the elvish states rely on citizen-militias, assuming that every single elf within them is a potential soldier. Unlike a mannish levee, these militiamen are at least somewhat trained in swordplay (thanks to the paidea), making them far more competent.

Even elvish servants and farmers believe themselves to be essentially "free." Obligations can be broken easily in elvish society and there are no ironclad contracts. While a Milean man might be "servile" and thus unable to engage in certain types of transactions, even the meanest and basest servant in an elvish kingdom is under his own manicipium—no lord has power over him unless he consents to that arrangement save his king alone. Elves sometimes refer to this as "direct subjugation," meaning they are directly the subjects of their king and no middle-man can interfere if the elf does not wish it.

What do elvish cities look like?
They are vast, though they are often equal to or lesser in population to mannish cities. Only the oldest parts of an elvish city would even be recognizable as a city to most men or dwarves. The further one gets from the heart of the city, the more green space one finds. Elvish roads meander this way and that, garden-like, through meadows and stands of trees. Elvish homes tend to be rambling affairs of stone built in the so-called "courtyard" style.

The elven lower classes generally attach themselves to a lord in the city, living on their estate and within their courtyard-house if they can. Those who cannot and are too poor to build houses of their own generally erect temporary structures in the wide green garden-spaces of the city. Much industry is done out of doors, and even in the most calcified hearts of the eldest elvish settlements one will find trees and patches of grass between the stone structures.

Elves also build in wood, though they treat it with special oils and waxes to give it longevity. Their structures tend to bely a sense of unearthly grace, slenderness, and almost impossible beauty. Some scholars speculate that there are spells holding up the most impossible of elvish towers, and its true that a school of architectural magic has grown up amongst the elves: warding, preserving, and balancing spells that mannish mages would scoff at as a waste of time.

Do elves have towns?
Not as we know them. The closest thing to an elvish "town" is generally a cluster of buildings that happen to be placed nearby. While regional justice falls under the manicipius of the local lord, they cannot act without permission from the council of common folk that must be then assembled to ratify or nullify their decrees.

These loosely affiliated groups are known to the elves as towns though it may be hard for men to recognize them as such. These towns are generally comprised of a temple, a number of smallholder's farms or settlements, and anywhere between no and three small elvish noble-men's manses. Unlike mannish nobles, the elvish do not extract tax from anyone—their only income that even approaches the tax-in-kind of mannish kingdoms are the great fields worked by servants who live within their house itself.

What is elvish law like?
The elves aren't too keen on written law. Customary law is by far the more common and there is no such thing as an elvish jurist. Trials are either conducted before the king himself or, if the case doesn't warrant this, before a jury of elves chosen by the defendant, the accuser, and the local lord. Elvish trials aim at fairness and reasonable outcome, not strict adherence or dogmatic application of law.

Monday, February 11, 2013

The Joy of New Worlds

When I was younger I always looked forward to going to the bookstore or the comic book shop. Not because I liked comic books—I've never managed to bring myself to care about the super-heroic mythos of mainstream comics. I went because I was always guaranteed to find some new roleplaying supplement that I didn't own. I loved expansions, complete books of, and all those little supplementary tomes, but the real gem wasn't any of those. The true magic was in the campaign settings.

It took months of saving to be able to afford one. Hoarded allowances piled up like precious samite. Then one day at last I would have enough to get one of the big boxed sets all wrapped in plastic. They were near Warhammer figurines (too expensive for me in those days, I had no real clue what it was) and the boring WWII tanks on a wire shelf below them. There was some model scenery directly on one side and the sacred Shelf Of Roleplaying on the other. I rarely spoke with anyone in the store. Maybe I would also get a pack of Magic cards as an afterthought (yeah, I know I'm dating myself as a young'un amongst all those real Grognards, but just because I'm not "old" Old Guard doesn't mean I can't grumble).

The true magic hadn't happened yet. Not while I was still in the shop nor during the car ride on the way home. The magic wouldn't happen till I got home, sat down, and opened the box up. Then, oh then! An orgy of maps and little punch cards, of booklets and manuals and handouts, sheafs of monsters and monstrous supplements, glossy covers and cardboard ones, acetate paper printed in hex patterns, and more maps maps maps. In that moment I left Earth behind.

I was as enterprising as any astronaut and as careful as any historian. The relics I dumped out onto the table were sacred things, things recovered from some lost far-away place. I combed through them carefully, taking stock, making careful mental notes. The guidebooks I thumbed through once but then returned to study as though they were holy manuscripts. I was, in a word, transported.

I stopped feeling that feeling when third edition came out. I wasn't transported through any of the new books. They were glossy and lifeless and dull, containing bits and pieces of what I remembered mixed in with a gormless stew of other things. The new campaign sets were bland to me, and boring. No third edition book has ever taken me the same way. Warhammer rules can now, in this day and age, bring me there. Some of the indie OSR publications can do it. Magic cards, their little blurb of flavor text, their delicate hints at a wider reality just beyond the boundaries of the frame can do it too. But I don't play those games, at least not often. I play D&D.

I know there are a thousand thousand settings. I know the 10th Age probably isn't really that unique. I know that people aren't really looking for campaign settings, and those that are generally aren't looking for hyper-detailed ones. I know that the OSR tends to value weirdness, sci-fantasy, and goofy fun over research and attempts at sociological analysis of fantastic societies. I know all this. Yet I go on. Why? Because I want to capture that feeling, and I feel it when I design. I want others, however many there are be it one or one million, who are like me to have the chance to feel that wonderment again. I don't ask that you be impressed with the 10th Age... just that you give it a shot.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Changeless Peasants and Nothing to Do OR Rural D&D

Those little towns are always so boring. Peasants go about their unchanging, bucolic lifestyle. They till the earth, they eat some bread, they go to sleep. Ho hum. Right?

WRONG. Here's some things that are constantly going on in villages:

Lawsuits
There are a huge number of reasons one party might be suing another. IN general, these suits are probably being considered by the local lord's curia. While they drag on (witnesses must be found and called, records dredged up from local monasteries and clerical institutions, etc.) the participants can find themselves either in friendly circumstances (Oh, tis just trifling matter of business) or not so friendly ones (murder mystery!).

* Suing over boundaries on adjacent properties

* Suing on property which must change hands due to: time stipulated rental, failure to pay rent, death of a renter/owner

* Suing over taxes because: the lord believes the villein/local customarily pays more than he has been, the villein/local believes he is customarily entitled to pay less (note that this "payment" may be in cash but is more likely that its in "kind" -- butter, salt fish, grains, labor, etc.)

* Suing over a lord's seizure of property for personal use

* Suing for damages due to public slander

* Suing for damages due to theft/harassment

* Suing for damages due to daughter-stealing (a patriarch who didn't give his permission before his daughter married? Scandal!)

Rivalries
These can be the result on ongoing or past lawsuits, but also may spring up due to conflicting personalities or interests. Even small towns can host rivalries of some sort or another, from the simple, simmering, "I hate you" that people who live nearby in small towns can get to full blown feuds. Hell, that could even be an adventure hook. And we don't have to be talking about major players here—a local virgater who despises the miller (or smith, or reeve, or hayward, or ale-connor) can be just as interesting, complex, and amusing as two noble families both alike in dignity.

Local Unrest
Outlaws! They aren't bandits (necessarily) but they certainly do tend to rob people and make things unpleasant. Bandits! They are bandits, so there's that. Invasions! Neighboring lordships (or kingdoms) might be doing battle nearby! Always exciting.

Trials
It's always possible that someone is being tried in something other than a lawsuit. Murder, breaking the king's peace, those kinds of things. This is a bit rarer and much less normative than the general low level of lawsuits going on in a village.

Markets
Marketing days don't necessarily come all the time. Weekly, monthly, bi-monthly, yearly markets are all possible. Preparing for market, going to market (if its not in the current town), returning from market, and mixing marketing days with any other manner of issue (theft, lawsuits, rivalries) can spice things up considerably.