Lively Locals 6: The Godstone

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A bag of holding is a coveted prize for an adventurer. In one small sack, a person can carry an entire armory of weapons, more potions than a wizard could brew in a year, and enough riches to buy a kingdom. Never does the bag grow in size, or become any heavier than a skin filled with water. Few know how these marvelous devices work, but the truth is that each bag accesses a small pocket of the Astral Plane. The infinite nothingness which flows between the dimensions, holding them together into a single multiverse. Each bag of holding is a small portal into a pocket of that void.

As precious as these items are, they’re also a great liability. It’s a simple task for a thief to rob you of your entire fortune, if you’re foolish enough to put it all in one place. Thieves are not even the greatest of an adventurer’s worries. A far greater danger is that posed by a stray blade, or arrow. A whizzing bit of steel which, while it may fail to harm the adventurer, damages their bag. When a bag of holding is broken, it does not simply split as a bag of canvas would. A bag of holding implodes, sending its contents whirling into the astral plane in all directions, and the unfortunate adventurer will be lucky if they’re not sucked in along with their lost treasures.

Over the centuries, countless bags have burst into the astral plane. Since the acquisition of such a bag in the first place is a dangerous–or at least expensive–proposition, the items contained in them are often quite valuable. Powerful magic items and artifacts float aimlessly throughout the vast nothingness.

But the astral plane is not entirely empty. Planar travelers use the astral plane as their road between worlds. The alien Githyanki even call the astral plane their home. There are many astral phenomena as well. Young wizards preparing to travel the planes for the first time are warned of the dangers of sonic rain, and transformative clouds. Worst of all is the bridge lightning. Arcs of energy which are drawn towards physical matter. They appear as if from nowhere, and move so quickly that by the time the eye has seen them, they are already gone.

If a person can survive the shock of being struck by bridge lightning, they’ll suddenly find themselves somewhere completely different. The lightning draws anything it touches to an area of intersection, where the astral plane overlaps another plane. Whatever the lightning strikes is unceremoniously dumped into a seemingly random spot somewhere in the multiverse. It is said that the astral plane’s natural state is emptiness, and the gods created the bridge lightning to enforce that.

Lost treasures are far more numerous than travelers in the astral plane, though. The lightning is often drawn to a mighty sword or magic potion lost by an adventurer who trusted their magic bag a little too much. Sometimes the items fall into the fires of hell or the endless fields of Elysium. Occasionally, they even end up in the depths of a dungeon, only to later be found by another adventurer. And other times, the items are zapped to a rock.

It’s not a particularly interesting rock. It’s just a stone in the middle of a field, which happens to intersect with the astral plane. Every so often, some item appears on the rock without warning. One day, a magical sword might appear, and six months past that, a dozen gold coins. A week after, a collection of goblin teeth, then a year later a powerful suit of plate armor.

A century or so ago, a clan of nomadic orcs were wandering through the wilderness, and came upon a small pile of gold and other treasure. They fell upon it eagerly, and took it as an omen that they should make camp around the stone. They intended to stay only a few weeks, but while they were there, they noticed that magical marvels continued to appear. The shamans declared the rock to be a manifestation of the orcish god, and the tribe cast off their nomadic ways to remain with the godstone.

To this day, the Tribe of the Godstone guard their land viciously. They are impossibly wealthy and well equipped, and eagerly offer outsiders as sacrifice to please their deity.

Colorful Characters 19: Henrietta Thaeblum, the Ghost of the Uprising

No matter who you are, life in the Land of Admon is harsh. The God-King tortures the royal family, encouraging them to betray and murder one another to prove their worth to him. The royal family uses the nobility as pawns in these games, manipulating them, and commandeering their property or lands whenever it is convenient. The nobility oppresses their serfs, forcing them to work themselves to death and selling their children to other nobles if they need to raise some money. But as bad as everyone has it, no one suffers more than the women of Admon. They are insignificant baubles, regardless of their station. The God-King’s own daughters would be no better off than peasant women if they weren’t useful to their father. And when the God-King dies and one of his sons ascends to the throne, the best the new God-King’s sisters can hope for is that they’ll be sent to live out the rest of their lives amongst the peasants.

Forty years ago, the women of Admon had enough of their slavery. There was an uprising. Wives slit their husband’s throats while they slept, harems smothered their noble lords, and slave owners were strangled by the very chains they had used to assert their control. It is still unknown how the attacks were conceived of or coordinated, but the death toll was massive. Tens of thousands of men were killed, and the unbroken line of God-Kings seemed poised to give way to the reign of a God-Queen. But the God-King was ruthless, and summoned his armies to him. The vile orders which he gave to them that day have echoed throughout history.

“There seems now to be a great excess of women in my kingdom. Bring me the head of every woman of childbearing age. Fill the courtyard with their skulls, and let the imbalance be corrected.”

The slaughter which followed is unspeakable. There were enough remains that every building was required by law to display a decapitated head above its door for a decade after the uprising ended. With all the women gone, it was years before any new children were born. And after the brutality of the God-King’s counterattack, no one dared whisper a single word of dissent.

Save one.

No one knows her name, who she is, or where she came from. No one who has ever gotten a clear look at her has survived the encounter. Her crusade began shortly after the uprising was put down. The heads of women displayed throughout the town would be taken in the dead of night. In their place would be the head of a man noted for his brutality. On most mornings, a would-be assailant’s body is found, skull crushed by a brutally heavy object. For lack of a better name, the people took to calling her the Ghost of the Uprising.

Numerous attempts to ensnare or kill the Ghost of the Uprising have been made over the years, but to no avail. For decades she has eluded the authorities, waging a private war against oppression. Giving the men of Admon reason to fear. But in recent years her attacks have slowed. No one can fight forever. She has grown old, tired, and bitter. For all her work, the system she fights remains in place. If she’s ever going to bring the God King to his knees, she needs to find help…

Henrietta Thaeblum, the “Ghost of the Uprising” (CR 14)

XP: 38,400
Female Human 15 (Fighter 10 / Rogue 5)
CN humanoid
Init +10; Senses Perception +18 (+2 v. traps)

Defenses

AC 26, Flat Footed 19, Touch 120 [10 + Dex(6) + Dodge(1) + Armor(6) + Ring(3)](+1 v. traps)(Cannot be flat footed)(+4 v. attacks of opportunity)
hp 107 (10d10 + 5d8 + 25)
Fort +9 Ref +13 (+1 v. traps)(If 1/2 damage, No damage) Will + 4 (+3 v. fear)

Offense

Speed 30ft
Melee Flail/Flail + 20,15,10/20,15,10 (1d8 + 11 + 1d6 Fire, 20/x2 + 1d10 Fire)
Melee Greataxe +20/15/10 (1d12 + 9, 19-20/x3)
Sneak Attack +3d6

Stats

Str 18 (+4) Dex 22 (+6) Con 12 (+1) Int 16 (+3) Wis 11 (+0) Cha 08 (-1)
Base Atk +13/8/3; CMB +17; CMD 33
Feats Improved Initiative, Weapon Focus (Flail), Weapon Specialization (Flail), Greater Weapon Focus (Flail), Quick Draw, Two-Weapon Fighting, Double Slice, Weapon Focus (Greataxe), Weapon Specialization (Greataxe), Dodge, Improved Two Weapon Fighting, Greater Two Weapon Fighting, Combat Reflexes, Mobility
Skills Acrobatics (+24), Craft (Arms & Armor)(+13), Disable Device (+19), Knowledge(Local)(+21), Perception (+18)(+2 v. traps), Sleight of Hand (+14), Stealth (+24)
Languages Common, Admonan, Thieve’s Cant, Tongue of the God King,
SQ
–Stand Up: May stand up from a prone position as a free action.
–Fast Stealth: May move at full speed while moving stealthily without penalty.
–Armor Training 2: Armor check penalty decreased by 2. Maximum dex increased by 2. May move at normal speed in heavy armor.
–Weapon Training 2: +2 attack and damage with Flails, +1 attack and damage with Axes.
–Combat Reflexes: May make 6 attacks of opportunity per round.

Gear Masterwork Hide Armor, Ring of Protection +3, Two +3 Flaming Burst Flails, +2 Keen Greataxe

Colorful Characters 18: Laura Kraul

Laril Kraul spent his early years in a small village on the Venusian coast. For generations his family–along with most other families in the village–had been fishermen. Laril was taught to use a net and spear from a young age, and proved adept in their use. During his teen years, he even created and popularized a form of gladiatorial jousting within his village which used the tools (the spears were blunted, of course). As he grew older, however, he became increasingly aware of the fact that he was different from the others in the village. The responsibilities he was expected to shoulder were awkward for him, and he often fantasized about what it would be like to be other people within his village. To experience their lives, and everything that went with that.

When Laril reached manhood, he took his leave of the village. He had always been strong, and the call of adventure gave him ample opportunity to explore his feelings of discontentment. Mastery of his unusual weapons proved beneficial to adventuring life. After a handful of minor successes on his own, Laril was approached by a small band of dungeon delvers who were impressed with his deeds. They asked if he would like to join them as they hunted for treasures hidden in crypts beneath the earth, and Laril was happy to accept. Adventuring life was dangerous, and he’d been hoping to find some companions to mitigate some of that danger.

The group traveled together for several months, and their excursions were largely profitable. Laril took pleasure in the excitement of the hunt. The fact that he’d recovered more gold to than anyone in his village had ever seen before didn’t hurt either. Yet his discontentment remained. Even in the life he’d made for himself, he felt out of place.

About a year after joining the group, Laril and his companions were exploring a particularly dank cavern. They’d slain the troll who lived there, and were beginning to worry that the treasure the beast had supposedly hoarded was fake. It took them nearly an hour to find the chest, modestly sized, hidden under a pile of rocks. Its contents were hardly worth their trouble. A measly few bags of silver coins, a pair of jewels, and a jade-studded leather belt with a silver buckle. Everyone agreed the belt must be the greatest prize, and they rolled bones to see who would get it.

Laril won, and immediately began putting the belt on while his companions set about dividing the rest of the loot between themselves. He was surprised by how comfortable it felt. In fact it affected his comfort much more than he would have imagined a belt could. He began to comment to his companions that the belt seemed to be magical, only to have his thoughts interrupted by the sudden and hysterical laughter of his friends. He asked what was funny, and noticed that his voice sounded strange in his ears. Worried, he went to his pack and began to fumble around for the steel mirror he kept there. As he rummaged through his bag, he noticed something else:

He had breasts.

“It’s a belt of gender changing!” the group’s wizard called to him, having finally regained his breath. “A cursed item. You won’t be able to take it off without a spell ofRemove Curse.” Laril was silent for a long moment as he pondered this development. Despite a change which should have upset him, he still felt strangely…comfortable. More comfortable than she’d ever felt in her life. The nagging discontentment which had pestered her in otherwise quiet moments was nowhere to be found. She felt whole.

Laril remained silent for the moment, unsure of how to broach this issue with her fellows. But when the morning came and the wizard had prepared his spell, she knew she couldn’t go back. She refused to allow the Remove Curse spell to be cast upon her, stating that she was happier this way. The party was confused, and concluded that the belt must have additional magical properties they were unaware of–some manner of mind control. They took hold of her and held her in place while the wizard performed his spell. Laril protested, but the others were certain they were doing her a favor, and held fast.

The spell was completed, and the belt destroyed. Laril again found herself in a male body, once again disconcerted, once again less than whole. She was so overwhelmed by rage and loss that all she could do was sit and weep over the ruined remains of the belt that had changed her life. Her companions were concerned for her, and opted to remain another night without traveling, to allow her some time to work out whatever was wrong. The following morning, she informed them that she had come to two decisions.

The first was that she would no longer remain with them. Now that she’d found what she’d been looking for, she intended to waste no time in figuring out how to get it back.

“And the second thing?” they asked.

“My name is Laura.” she answered. Then left.

Laura Kraul (CR 5)

XP: 1,600
Female Human Fighter 6
LG humanoid
Init +8; Senses Perception -1

Defenses

AC 20, Flat Footed 14, Touch 16 [10 + Dex(4) + Armor(5) + Dodge(1)]
hp 53 (6d10 + 24)
Fort +7 Ref +6 Will + 1

Offense

Speed 30ft
Melee Shocking Burst Longspear + 9 (1d8 + 3 + 1d6 Electricity/x3 + 2d10 Electricity)
Melee Net +10 (Causes the Entangled condition)(Ranged Touch Attack)(10ft)

Stats

Str 16 (+3) Dex 19 (+4) Con 14 (+2) Int 11 (+1) Wis 9 (-1) Cha 13 (+1)
Base Atk +6/1; CMB +9; CMD 23
Feats Improved Initiative, Weapon Focus (Spear), Weapon Specialization (Spear), Dodge, Weapon Focus(Net), Quick Draw, Lunge, Toughness
Skills Craft (Boatswain)(+11), Knowledge (Engineering)(+11), Ride (+10), Survival (+5)
Languages Common, Dwarven
SQ
–Lunge: Can increase the reach of your melee attacks by 5ft in exchange for a -2 AC penalty.
Gear Slick Lightly Fortified Hide Armor; Mithril Shocking Burst Longspear; 3 Silk Nets; Backpack; 842 GP, Dagger, Bedroll, 10′ pole, steel mirror, 3 weeks rations, 1 lantern, 3 flasks of lantern oil, small jar of salt, fishing line, 3 hooks.

Lively Locals 5: Three Religious Sites

While at Paizocon, I attended a seminar on homebrew game worlds. It was one of the more thought provoking seminars I attended, and in particular one of the panelists really got me thinking about religion. I’ve never had a problem with religion in my game worlds, and you could even call me a pretty huge fan of Vecna, a god from D&D. But I’ve never spent much time thinking about the wider impact of religion on my worlds, which I now recognize as a pretty huge failing on my part. So, as a bit of fun, I decided to make this Friday’s post about something with religious significance. Nothing which deserved a really large backstory came to mind, so I settled on breaking this post up into three parts.

The Stake of Ereon

Long ago, in a small village, the Church of Arethae overstepped its bounds. Arethae was a god of contemplation and philosophy, but over time her followers in this village involved themselves more and more in the petty politics of governance. As the village grew, the clerics of Arethae became powerful and corrupt, encouraging their followers to ostracize any who did not submit themselves to the teachings of Arethae. Teachings which were often interpreted by the clerics to match their own selfish whims.

Arethae was saddened to hear her name spoken as a tool of oppression. Spurned to action, she communed with a lowly priest named Ereon, who lived in a city far from the village. She bestowed upon him her seal, and commanded that he travel to the village. There, Ereon was to meet with the church leadership, and prove his divine authority by presenting the seal. None who touched the it, she said, could have any doubt who had sent him. Ereon did not believe himself worthy of the task, but he submitted himself to his goddesses command, and left the comfort of his monastery home that very day.

It took four months for Ereon to travel the many leagues between his home and the corrupt village, but as he walked the seal infused him with his goddesses wisdom and strength. Through the challenges he faced on the road, it brought forth his inner courage and taught him how to lead those who had gone astray back to the truth of Arethae. When he arrived, he presented himself to the church leaders with the might of his goddesses’ conviction in his heart. The town’s clergy examined the seal, and knew it to be genuine. They were saddened to learn of their goddesses’ disapproval. When Ereon commanded that they submit to his guidance, however, they made a decision:

They did not need their goddesses’ approval.

They declared Ereon to be a heretic, and announced his execution to the townspeople with much pomp and circumstance. A stake was erected in the village square, and the clergy made a great show of binding Ereon to it. Ereon made no objection as they lit the fire beneath his feet. As he began to burn, he serenely chanting prayers to Arethae, until the smoke made it too difficult to speak.

The moment Ereon’s final breath left his body, every priest and priestess within the village began to choke and cough, as though they too were trying to breathe through smoke. The entire populace watched as their leaders–dozens of men and women–slowly suffocated for no apparent reason. The village was abandoned shortly after, and the buildings have long since been destroyed by the elements. But the stake remains, a charred black log standing alone in a field of grass. Even now, any character of evil alignment who steps within 100 yards of the stake is suddenly overcome by a fit of coughing, which will not end until they retreat.

Bloodstain of Vecna

Millenia ago the great warlord lich Vecna was betrayed by his lieutenant, Kas. The two fought a long battle, and at its conclusion Vecna’s tower mysteriously collapsed, presumably destroying both Vecna and Kas. No one knows what the outcome of that battle was, for the only remains ever found were Kas’s mighty sword, and Vecna’s hand and eye. Regardless of the battle’s outcome, it was soon revealed that Vecna had risen as a demigod. Much later, it was revealed that Kas had been raised as a vampire, and was a prisoner within Vecna’s Citadel Cavitius. But that is another tale.

When Vecna’s tower collapsed, so did its foundations, which extended deep into the earth. A veritable mountain of stone came crashing down through level after level. Through the eons which have passed since that fateful day, the site of Vecna’s tower has become obscured. But deep beneath the surface, in the bowels of the underdark, is a stone. Once, this stone served as part of the floor of Vecna’s audience chamber, and now it serves that same function in one of the numerous labyrinthine passages of the underdark.

During his battle with Kas, Vecna was wounded and a few droplets of blood were flung from his undead veins. They splattered on this stone, and there they remain. A dark brown stain, appearing to be perhaps a few days old at most. Not that anyone can see it in the pitch blackness of the underdark. None have ever discovered this stone, and even Vecna himself does not know of its existence. However, if anyone were ever to set foot upon it, they would immediately be granted knowledge of the locations of both Vecna’s hand, and eye.

St. Baria’s Rest

A blind prophet once came to the court of Kerrogon seeking food and shelter. Gustaf Teranar, the Primarch of Kerrogon, was not a kind man. His people suffered greatly under his tyrannical rule,and he found their suffering offensive. When the disheveled old prophet entered, Gustaf nearly had him killed on the spot for daring to present himself before the Primarch. But his advisers intervened, for they recognized the man, and knew of his gift. Intrigued, Kerrogon offered him food and shelter, in exchange for an insight into the future.

The man gladly accepted the food and shelter offered him, and on the morrow he met with the court once more to reveal Gustaf’s future: that even now, a child lived within his kingdom which would someday rise up, and slay him. The Primarch was enraged, and had the old prophet cast out of the court. He would have killed him, but he feared the consequences of slaying one who had been gifted by the gods.

Gustaf rallied his soldiers in the early morning, and ordered that every child in the kingdom–all those below the adult age–were to be killed. Ruthlessly, the soldiers went from home to home. Bodies were left in the streets, and the gutters ran with blood. The grieving wails of parents filled the air, becoming indistinguishable from one another. A righteous woman named Baria gathered together as many children as she could, and tried to flee the city. She managed to gather forty of them before she led them into the wilderness. As she entered a narrow pass, however, she heard the sound of hoof beats behind her, and the clatter of Kerrogonian Armor. Thinking quickly, she noticed a cave and bade the children to hide within. Only too late did she realize that the cave was shallow, with barely enough room for all of the children to fit, let alone hide.

Baria looked frantically for another option, but it was too late. She could see the soldiers outside as they examined the tracks the children had left. She was sure she was doomed, and it was all she and the children could do to keep quiet and still. The soldiers dismounted and walked around for a long while, puzzling over the tracks, appearing not to see the woman and the children she was trying to protect. The two even followed the tracks right to the mouth of the cave, and stared directly at the group for long minutes, before returning to their horses and riding off.

Baria was mystified, and thanked the gods for whatever miracle they had performed to save her and her wards. They continued to flee, and successfully escaped the slaughter. They settled in a faraway city, and indeed, one of the children eventually returned to slay the tyrant king who had killed so many others. And to this day, none with evil intent are able to see the entrance of St. Baria’s Cave, even with powerful spells and divinations, it appears to be naught but solid stone.

Lively Locals 4: The Wood of Lost Paths

Far to the north west is a deep forest. A girl with leaf-green hair, perhaps 10 years old, roams there. She cares little for the world of humans. Her days are filled by picking flowers, climbing tress, and running through the woods as fast as she can. She’s been there as long as anyone can remember, and longer, all without growing a day older. This unique fay is said to be the forest’s heart made manifest. But, truth be told, no one knows which came first: the forest, or the girl.

Civilization has long since grown around this forest. A number of villages, and even a large city, are within a day’s travel of it. But no serious attempt has ever been made to harvest its wood, or settle in its shade. For the trees of this forest can move as surely as a man can walk. Which isn’t to say that anyone has ever seen them move. The trees somehow know when there are eyes upon them—even the magical eyes of a diviner. But a traveler entering the forest is best advised that the path behind her will never be the same one she traveled.

The girl has some part in this, that much is certain. The paths of the wood shape themselves to her whimsy. Those few who have returned from the Wood of Lost Paths tell stories of meeting her. She introduces herself as Asria, and leads the lucky traveler down a path they had not seen; wide and straight, leading directly to the forest’s edge. The moment they set eyes upon the grassy planes that surround the forest, the girl disappears again into the trees. Most are wise enough to avoid the forest entirely. For every tale of a traveler who was led out, there are twenty of men and women who never returned. But a legend sometimes draws foolish adventurers to the Wood of Lost Paths: the tale of the Kingsblade.

It is said that a great king once lost a battle near the forest’s edge. Upon seeing the suffering of his soldiers, caused by his own rivalry with another lord, the king drew his sword and cast it into the forest, declaring that he would force his people to do battle no more. Three celestials saw this powerful act, and were moved by it. They were sisters, representing the virtues of wisdom, love, and courage. They carried the blade to the center of the forest, and saturated it with their powers. They transformed it into a weapon which could stand against any evil. It is said that the blade is still there, its hilt held aloft in a single hand shared between three statues of these celestial creatures. They wait only for one worthy enough to wield it.

Recently, a band of a few dozens Drow discovered the forest. They’d offended the spider queen, and fled to the surface world to escape her wrath. After a lifetime of living in the depths of the underdark, however, they found the light of the surface world unbearable. They sought refuge in the Wood of Lost Paths, finding the shade to be an acceptable substitute for the darkness of their home. It was only after they entered the forest that they realized it was not a simple task to leave it again.

The impossible to navigate landscape nearly drove the Drow to madness. Several of them were separated from the group and lost, presumed to be dead. It was only good fortune that saved them when they encountered the girl, Asria. She offered to show them the way out, and when the drow discovered that she could navigate the forest, they immediately began scheming. Rather than follow Asria’s path, they captured and bound her. Despite her great powers and apparent immortality, Asria was as weak and naive as a child.

One of the drow wizards fashioned a headband for her, one she could never remove herself. To it, he bound four stones. Each stone allowed the wielder to instinctively navigate the forest’s shifting landscape as though they were Asria herself. By exerting their will, the drow could even force Asria to create paths and clearings for them.

Since then, the drow have been raiding the nearby settlements for food, supplies, and treasure. A number of attempts have been made to pursue them, but none dare follow them past the treeline.

Lively Locals 2: River of Blades

Once, there was a tribe who lived by the river. They were not skilled in technology or magic, but the river provided everything they needed. Its water was clean, and its depths filled with fish. The tribe flourished under the leadership of Matron Ulanae. Ulanae was wise, and was the first among her tribe to begin to discover the powers of magic. She used her gifts to improve the lives of her people, and she was beloved. But the elders were jealous of Ulanae. Before she had begun to display her magical talents, they had ruled the tribe as the speakers for the River Spirit.

The elders told Ulane that the River Spirit wished to commune with her. To do so she must travel seven days up river to the place where the river falls from the high cliff. She was to climb the high cliff, and bathe above the waterfall to form a sacred bond with the river. Ulanae and her people still had great reverence for the River Spirit, so she obeyed the elder’s commands and began her journey. In secret, the elders followed her. They remained hidden until Ulanae reached the top of the waterfall, and began bathing in the waters there. They then emerged from hiding, and overpowered the matron. They threw her over the cliff, and her body was destroyed on the many sharp rocks below.

The elders returned to the village. They intended to tell the people that Ulanae had offended the River Spirit with her brashness, and that the River Spirit had consumed her as punishment. But when they arrived they found the people in great distress. The River Spirit was angry, they said, and would not let them enter the River. The Elders tried to calm the people by praying loudly to the River Spirit. When they had finished, they waded into the water–and their bodies were torn asunder by the river’s bite.

Without strong leadership, and lacking the resources the river had provided them, the tribe eventually moved off to settle elsewhere.

—

By all appearances, there is nothing out of the ordinary about the River of Blades. The somewhat muddy water flows at a fast pace, but not so fast that it would be difficult to stand in. It is between 50 and 90ft wide, and over 500 miles in length from the waterfall where it begins, to the estuary where it meets the sea. There are no towns near the river, nor are there any bridges built across it. The only oddity about the river is that it contains no plant or animal life whatsoever. No algae grows on the rocks, no fish swim in the water, local animals do not drink from it, and even trained horses will only enter it with extreme reluctance.

When anything makes contact with the water, it is attacked as though by dozens of swords all at once. Leaves and branches which fall into the water from nearby trees are quickly chopped into dust, and the effect is no less dramatic on adventurers. If the water is touched only very lightly, such as with the flat of one’s palm, or the toe of one’s boot, no damage is dealt. Instead, the character will feel as though they are being sliced, and if they look at whatever part of them touched the water they will see numerous tiny lacerations cross-crossing in all directions. If a hand or foot is submerged in the water, the character takes 1d4 slashing damage per round. If the character stands waist deep in the water they take 3d6 slashing damage per round. If the character swims, or is submerged in the water, they take 5d8 slashing damage per round. Anyone foolish enough to drink this water will suffer massive internal injuries, and instantly be reduced to -1 hit points.

No effect visible to the naked eye accompanies this attack. A character who is using Detect Magic or a similar spell will be able to see faint outlines of blades in the water, but only when an attack is taking place. There is also a very faint sound of slashing swords (again, only when an attack is taking place) but this is normally drowned out by the river’s flow. Anything which is placed in the water is subject to this attack. Most wooden craft are quickly shredded. Stone seems to hold together alright, though visible scratches constantly appear in its surface, and it would likely erode to nothing after a few hours of contact with the water. Curiously, if a bladed weapon is submerged in the water it is not damaged. Rather, when it is removed from the water, the wielder will discover that it has been expertly sharpened.

Water removed from the river will retain this slashing property so long as it is within 1 mile of the river. Note that this means it will destroy many of the containers water might normally be placed in. If this water is used as a weapon, by throwing it or splashing it at an opponent, the damage dealt is at the GM’s discretion. Roughly 1 cup of water would deal 1d6 damage, but more water might deal greater amounts of damage as indicated by the list above.

Fantasy Languages

Language has an important role in fantasy. In the video game Skyrim, the language of dragons produces powerful magic effects when spoken. In the Lord of the Rings stories, Gandalf repeatedly mentions that the ‘dark speech of Mordor’ should not be spoken, and when it is, it appears painful to hear.* In Judeo-christian mythology, the entire universe is created when god speaks; “and god said, let there be light: and there was light.” So why is it that we ignore language in fantasy RPGs? The most it is ever used for is a minor obstacle when a message or an NPC requires fluency in a certain language to understand.

As I’ve already mentioned in my analysis of the linguistics skill, learning languages by spending a skill point is stupid. Not only can it quickly lead to a character knowing an absolutely ludicrous number of languages (See: The Owlbear) but it doesn’t represent the proper amount of time investment for language learning. I’ve been pondering how this could be improved, and I think I’ve come up with something workable. Characters start play knowing their “basic languages.” These would be The Common Tongue, and any languages which the character should know based on their race and class. For a human fighter, the only basic language would be The Common Tongue. For a dwarven druid, the basic languages would include The Common Tongue, Dwarven, and Druidic. From there, the character may select a number of bonus languages equal to their intelligence modifier. These languages must be of the commonplace variety, but can be selected during gameplay rather than at character creation, if the GM is willing.

After selecting these first languages, players may learn additional tongues by investing time. They must purchase a book (which varies in price from 10gp for commonplace languages, to 10,000 gp for the rarest tongues), or be traveling with a companion willing to teach them. They must spend 8 hours every day in light activity, studying this language. If they are being taught by a companion, their companion must also spend this time in teaching the language, rather than in other tasks. After 35 days (equal to 1 game month for me), the character has successfully learned the language.

A character can learn a maximum number of languages equal to twice their intelligence modifier. So a character with a +4 intelligence modifier can learn up to 8 languages. Note that a character’s basic languages do count against this maximum. So a human fighter with 18 Int starts out knowing The Common Tongue, and 4 other languages based on their intelligence. After that, they may learn 3 additional languages for a total of 8. On the other hand, a dwarven druid with 18 intelligence starts out knowing The Common Tongue, Dwarven, and Druidic, as well as 4 other languages based on their intelligence. That’s a total of 7 languages, so the dwarf will only be able to learn 1 more after the fact. If a player wishes to learn more than their maximum number of languages, they may do so by taking the Polyglot feat, which allows characters to learn as many languages as they like.

Below is a list of languages organized by how common they are. I’ve included the 21 languages in the Pathfinder Core Rulebook, as well as a number of additional languages from other sources, and some of my own creation.

*While I have read LotR, it was more than half my life ago. Forgive me if my memories are more influenced by the films than the novels.

Commonplace

Commonplace languages are spoken openly by many people throughout the material plane. A textbook for learning a commonplace language would be available in most book stores, and could be purchased for 10-50gp. Note that The Common Tongue is not listed, as it is a universal language, not simply a commonplace one.

Dwarven Dwarven is filled with hard sounds, much like real world German or Russian. ‘Dwarven’ is a common tongue spoken by most dwarves. However, in a campaign world with different species of dwarf (Such as The Forgotten Realm’s Shield, Gold, and Gray dwarfs) each dwarf subspecies may have its own language, separate from the shared language of Dwarven. In such a case, each of the languages would be considered a Commonplace language. That includes the language of Gray dwarfs, since the mine-dwelling dwarven species are likely to encounter their Underdark dwelling cousins with some frequency.

Elven In contrast with Dwarven, Elven has very few hard sounds. Most words are composed of soft sounds, which flow one word to the next. The few words which do contain hard sounds are among the rudest words in the elven tongue. Elven is also the most expansive language, with a massive alphabet, and a lexicon which could contain the languages of several other species at once. Elves do not have multiple languages in campaign settings with more than one elven species. Wood elves, sun elves, high elves, etc. all speak a single unified language, though certain ways of phrasing things may be more common among one group than they are among another. The only exception to this is the Drow, whose tongue is a bastardization of Elven and Abyssal.

Gnomish Gnomish is a fast language. This often makes it difficult for non-native speakers to follow conversations between gnomes, even if they do know the language. It is also an extremely descriptive language, and it is not uncommon for a noun to be followed by a lengthy list of adjectives which–in most languages–would be considered excessive. Like elves, the gnomish language is universal among gnomes. This includes the Svirfneblin, or deep gnomes, who–despite being culturally quite different from their surface cousins–are none the less on amicable terms with the rest of their species.

Halfling Halfling sounds very similar to elven, and in fact is thought to be descended from that tongue. Most of its words, however, are not found within the expansive elven language. Halfling, more than any other language, incorporates words from many other languages as well. Dwarves, gnomes, and even orcs might occasionally recognize a random word within a sentence spoken in Halfling.

Gnoll Gnoll is a particularly difficult language for non-gnolls to speak. It is filled with many high pitched sounds, and a lot of bleating and yelping. Fortunately, it is also a very limited tongue, with a vocabulary of only a few thousand words.

Goblin Like Gnomish, the Goblin tongue is extremely fast paced. The chattering of Goblin often sounds comical, which belies how many synonyms they have for acts of violence. Goblins learn to speak it at a remarkably young age, and some anthropologists surmise that the language is actually instinctual for these creatures.

Orcish Orcish is a brusk, primitive language without artistry or style. Any of its subtlety comes from gestures made with the hands, head, or face. Note that these two are not considered separate languages, but a single language which combines vocal and gestural elements.

Giant The language of Giants sounds very similar to the Dwarven tongue, and in fact uses the same alphabet as Dwarven. The various types of Giant (Hill Giant, Stone Giant, Ice Giant, and so forth) have not quite developed their own sub languages. However, they do have very distinct dialects, which can take some time to grow accustomed to.

Gestural Languages Most cultures have developed gestural languages which are similar in style to their spoken languages. These have a twofold purpose: first, they allow those who are deaf and/or dumb to communicate. Second, they allow for silent communication during military action–though those who learn the language for its stealth applications normally have an extremely limited vocabulary. These languages include: Gestural Common, Gestural Elven, Gestural Dwarven, Gestural Halfling, Gestural Gnomish, and Gestural Giant. The other common species have not developed any detailed gestural languages, though that does not mean they are not capable of extremely basic gestural communication.

Uncommon

Like common languages, uncommon languages are mostly spoken by creatures on the material plane. However, most human and demi-human cultures will have had little to no contact with the creatures who speak these languages. As such, they can be difficult to learn. Textbooks for learning these languages are likely to be found only in universities, or the bookstores of large cities. Purchasing one will likely cost between 200 and 1000 gold pieces.

Aklo & Sylvan To someone who speaks neither Sylvan nor Aklo, the two languages might sound identical. Even non-native speakers sometimes fail to understand why a word from one language can’t be used while speaking the other. But to the creatures who speak these languages natively–the fey–the two tongues could not be more different. Speaking a word of Aklo within a Sylvan sentence is profoundly offensive, and vice-versa. It is also said that a plant which grows hearing the Sylvan language daily will flourish and grow strong, whilst a plant which grows hearing Aklo will become twisted and thorny.

Aquan Primarily the tongue spoken by water based outsiders, Aquan is none the less ‘uncommon’ rather than ‘rare,’ because the many water dwelling peoples of the material plane (such as merfolk) speak it. Aquan is strange, in that it can be heard as easily through water as most languages can be heard through the air. Additionally, it has been found that speaking this language wets the mouth of the one speaking it, though one who does not understand the language cannot replicate this effect by speaking the same words. There are some tales of people surviving for weeks without water, sustaining their life by speaking Aquan aloud to themselves.

Auran Like Aquan, Auran is a tongue primarily spoken by air based outsiders. However, many flying creatures on the material plane also speak the language, and this allows it to be more commonly known than most outsider tongues. Most native speakers find it frustrating to converse with non-native speakers, since they often don’t have the lung capacity to speak Auran easily. As a result, they need to take a breath after almost every word, giving the impression that they’re constantly exhausted from physical stress. Despite that fact, those who speak the language actually find it much easier to breathe while speaking it–an ability which comes in handy when faced with poison gases, or low oxygen environments.

Draconic Though the language of dragons is spoken by Kobolds and might be thought to be common, the dialect which Kobolds speak is composed only of the simplest words, with no regards for grammar, and numerous mispronunciations. While this works fine for the Kobolds, true Draconic is a much rarer and much more complicated language. In order to speak it correctly, a creature as tiny as a human needs to almost constantly shout the words in order to create the proper volume and inflection.

Undercommon The common tongue of the underdark is most naturally spoken in low, quiet tones. In that deep place it serves the same purpose as The Common Tongue does on the surface world: it is a universal language, which is none the less distinct from the specific racial languages found there.

Ancient Common Many of the commonplace languages slowly evolve over time. While an individual’s life is too short for this gradual shift to matter, after countless generations it can be impossible to decipher a book written in a language you ostensibly speak. As such, many languages have an “ancient” counterpart which must be learned as a separate tongue. These include: Ancient Common, Ancient Dwarven, Ancient Gnomish, Ancient Halfling, and Ancient Giant. The Elven language is unique in that it does not evolve, save to occasionally add new words to its expansive lexicon.

Drow As mentioned above, the language of the drow is a bastardization of Elven and Abyssal. Unlike elven, the drow tongue does evolve over time, and ancient versions of it do exist. Though, the older an example of the drow language is, the more it resembles Abyssal words shoehorned into Elvish conjugation and grammar.

The Gravespeech Intelligent undead are imbued with knowledge of this tongue upon their reanimation. Many of its guttural sounds are difficult for a living creature to create, but learning the language is a coveted rite of passage for necromancers. Those who chant their necrotic spells in this tongue swear that their command of the undead is strengthened.

Rare

Most rare languages are not spoken by creatures native to the material plane. They are the languages of outsiders, and their words carry great power. A textbook for learning such a language will be difficult to obtain. Likely only a few exist in the world, and they will either be owned by wizards and kings, or guarded by fearsome monsters in a dungeon beneath the earth. Purchasing one would cost not less than 5,000 gold, and could be as expensive as 10,000 gold, or higher.

Abyssal Every word in the grammarless language of demons sounds horrible. Some are reminiscent of a retching cough, whilst others sound disturbingly like a wail of pain. Those who speak it often find themselves prone to acting irrationally for a time afterwords, and respond a little more spitefully to minor annoyances.

Celestial The language of the upper planes always feels good to speak for creatures of good alignment. There is no distinct sensation, but your breathing becomes a little deeper, and your mind a little clearer. By contrast, most evil creatures find it unpleasant to hear. Not quite as bad as nails on a chalkboard. It’s unlikely that the language could be used to detect evil folk by watching for people’s reactions

Ignan The language of fire based outsiders requires a rasping voice to pronounce correctly. Speaking it drys the mouth of the speaker, and prolonged speech can apparently begin to drain a body of its water reserves. It is not recommended to speak the language at length without a beverage nearby. Those who do speak it find themselves temporarily immune to natural fire damage for a few moments after speaking.

Infernal The grammar of Infernal is so strict and obtuse that it makes the language almost impossible to speak until you can speak it absolutely fluently. An incorrectly conjugated verb is enough to make an entire sentence completely indecipherable. And a small error in a lengthy conversation can completely change the meaning of something spoken twenty minutes earlier. The impenetrable nature of the language provides a new dimension to the old phrase “Devils always speak in contracts.”

Terran All of the words in Terran are extremely short. In fact, each of the letters in the Terran written language can also be used to spell a single-character word. The language does not lend itself to lengthy conversations, and is best used to facilitate brief exchanges of necessary information. Speaking the language makes the ground somewhat more welcoming of you. Those who speak it often mutter to themselves as they travel, and swear that their feet hurt much less at the end of the day because of it. Of course, this application is most useful when falling from a great distance, as it reduces the amount of fall damage taken by 1d6.

Treespeech & Seavoice When the trees rustle, and the waves crash, subtle words are being spoken by nature itself. No one, not even fey creatures, can actually learn to speak in either Treespeech or Seavoice. Both languages are created by forces far beyond the ability of a pair of lungs and a single larynx. However, after careful study and a great deal of listening, one can learn to understand what is being said. An astute listener can learn a great deal about who and what is nearby, and it is impossible to become lost when you understand the language of your environment. As a special requirement, both of these languages require a Wisdom score of 14 or higher to learn.

Secret

Secret languages are known only to a chosen few. Helping an outsider learn it, or writing a textbook on it, is a grave offense. Special conditions must be met in order to learn any of these languages.

Druidic Druidic is a known only to druids, and taught to them through communing with nature. Druidic spells with verbal components must be spoken in druidic, or they will not work.

Thieves’ Cant Spoken in the underbelly of society, Thieves’ Cant is a carefully guarded secret of those on the wrong side of the law. Teaching it to anyone on the ‘right’ side of the law is enough to get your throat slit.

Drow Sign Language Though many societies have gestural languages, as mentioned above, the gestural language of the drow is taught much more universally amongst their people. In the underdark, where many creatures hunt by sound rather than sight, the ability to pass messages silently is essential to survival. Given the violent nature of drow, even allowing an outsider to witness too much of the language might earn someone a violent execution from their superiors.

Language of the Church Historically, the official language of the catholic church is Latin, despite the fact that the language has been dead for the majority of the church’s history. Using a language known only to educated members of society allowed the church to create a veil of secrecy between the clergy and the lay people. No one can question how certain teachings were derived from sacred texts if only the clerics can read the sacred texts. Many, or even all churches in a fantasy world might have secret languages of their own. They need not be a method of deception either; a goodly church may simply wish to keep its secrets safe from those who would exploit them.

Unknowable

There are some languages which simply cannot be learned. Hearing them puts a mortal in danger of losing their sanity, and speaking them threatens a mortal’s very existence.

The Dark Speech The true name of The Dark Speech is not known, and if it was, it could not be shared. It is the language spoken when the evil gods gather to converse–not even their mightiest servants are fluent in it. Most mortals would immediately die if they attempted to utter even a word in this depraved tongue. In some cases, however, the most powerful individuals can learn to speak a one or two words of The Dark Speech. They none the less suffer terrible pain from doing so, but the destruction their utterance can cause is sometimes worth the pain.

The Words of Creation The Ineffable Language of the Logos has been mentioned before. Even the most powerful gods cannot speak this language fluently. Instead, they utter only a few key phrases at a time, like a wizard invoking a spell’s trigger. A single word can rearrange the multiverse, or un-make a man.

Colorful Characters 17: Limenent Geary, Duchess of Greyholm

Limenent Geary was the same as lot of kids who grew up on the streets of Darton; she had a tough exterior, no idea where she came from, and no respect for a legal system which would rather see her die of starvation than live through theft. She was just a lot better at that last part than the other kids were. By the time she was in her teens, Limenent had been accepted into the Darton Thieves’ Guild. Before she was twenty she had made a reputation for herself as a thief with a knack for daring heists, and never getting caught. Her specialty was the manor houses of the rich, and she made a comfortable living for herself.

During one such heist, Limenent broke in at ground level and made her way cautiously into the basement. In her experience, many of her ‘patrons’ (as she sometimes called them) kept pieces of artwork and other valuables in storage. By fencing these, rather than the more visible wealth in the living areas, the theft might not be discovered for weeks, or even months. But this house was strange. The building’s sublevels were as finely furnished as the living areas normally were, with carpets covering the stone floors, and pieces of artwork hanging on the walls or resting on tables, rather than stored in crates or covered by tarps. She didn’t understand what was going on, and she didn’t like not knowing what was going on. Thinking she could just hit up a different house the next evening, she turned to leave–and slammed face first into what felt like a stone wall.

What it turned out to be was a man’s chest. A man of no great height or girth, but a man as cold, hard, and sturdy as stone. Limenent was no fool. The man was clearly more than he appeared to be, most likely a a spellcaster of some sort. She immediately tried to dart past him, hoping she moved quick enough to prevent him from getting a good look at her. Her face was covered, but there was no point in taking undue risks. It didn’t matter, though, because the man was twice as fast. His hand darted out like lightning, taking hold of Limenent’s neck and lifting her effortlessly to slam against the wall. In desperation, a dagger appeared in Limenent’s hand, and she stabbed into the man’s arm, but it only tore his clothes and glanced harmlessly aside.

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Limenent struggled to breathe, but she refused to betray any weakness in her gaze. Blackness started to appear at the edges of her vision, and she felt herself about to lose consciousness. Then the grip on her neck weakened, and she felt her back sliding down the wall until her feet were safely on the ground. She looked up, unaware of when she had broken her captor’s gaze. He bared his teeth at her, and for the first time she saw that they were unnaturally sharp. She had only begun to wonder why that was when he forced her head back, and drove his razor teeth into her jugular vein.

Limenent Geary died.

When she awoke some time later, lying in a bed in a dark room, she knew exactly what had happened. Something about her transformation had granted her understanding–not that it was difficult to figure out. The man had been a vampire, and now she was one too. A fledgling undead bound to serve the one who created her until he was destroyed. She immediately set about planning that destruction, but each time she tried her mind would wander elsewhere. She would later learn that the same magics which compelled her to obey her new master also prevented her from plotting against him.

As it turned out, Baron Telmalane–that’s what he called himself–had been impressed by Limenent’s resourcefulness. While she had been easy prey for him, he recognized that she had not been prepared to encounter a vampire. He even complimented her by noting that if she had been, she might have stood a chance against him. With the vampiric might he had bestowed upon her, she would make an impressive agent of his will. And though she was unable to disobey him, he promised that the rewards for her service could be great.

For decades the younger vampire did as she was told. She dutifully carried out her master’s will, be it delivering a message to a fellow, or assassinating a rival. And, as he had promised, she was well rewarded for her work. She had personal wealth, status among her master’s servants, and freedom to feed upon whomever she pleased. But she chaffed beneath the yolk of servitude. She strained against the mental bonds which diverted her each time she tried to plot against her master, but even a century after her enslavement she found her focus constantly diverted.

Circumstance intervened on her behalf one night when Baron Telmalane was again staying in his Darton manor. While gazing out the top story windows, Limanent saw a party of heavily armed men and women approach the house. There were ten of them, and based on their equipment there was only one thing they could be: hunters. They had discovered that the lord of the manor was a vampire masquerading as a reclusive noble, and come to destroy him. Seeing a ray of hope for herself, Limanent recalled that her master had expressed a desire for more exercise a few months back. Surely he would enjoy fighting these weaklings himself. She found a candle, and climbed out the window onto the rooftop so she could have a better view of the stars. Once she was there, she poured the candle’s wax into her ears, because the warm sensation might feel nice on her cold skin.

She gazed up at the moon, and sought to hold on to the fragile illusion she had created for herself. She did not know her master was in danger, could not hear his cries for her aide. She sat in still silence for a quarter hour, then a wave of pain slammed into her. Her temples throbbed, and her back arched as a scream escaped her lungs. And as soon as it began it was over. She lay panting on the roof, weak from pain. But she knew, instinctively, that she was no longer controlled by anyone. She picked the wax from her ears and listened as the hunters searched the house for any more creatures. They never thought to search the roof, which was good because Limanent could not have stood against them. She waited until they left, then cautiously climbed back into the manor just in time to avoid the morning sun.

Once she recovered, Limanent immediately set to work. While she’d never been able to plot against Baron Telmalane, she’d spent decades planning what she would do if she were ever free of him. She knew his manor was no longer safe, so she immediately took flight to find a safe haven where she would–at least temporarily–be safe from vampire hunters. Through the following months she returned to her her roots as a thief. In life, it had afforded her a comfortable living, but in death she was capable of so much more. By transforming herself into a cloud of mist, she could enter a building through a crack in the wall, rather than fumbling at a locked door. With her great strength, she could heavy sacks of riches effortlessly. And a century of vampirism had left her with little regard for human life, allowing her to easily dispose of anyone who discovered her pilfering. When she ran out of public buildings to rob, she began using her vampiric charms to coax an invitation from unwitting residence.

Within a year, Limanent was fabulously wealthy by mortal standards, but the people of Darton were well aware that they had a master thief among them. So she hired a battalion of porters, and moved away. She boarded a ship, and crossed the southern sea. When she reached the continent of Edargeln, she purchased a manor house of her own in the capitol city of Abingarde. She filled it with riches, and introduced herself to high society as the Duchess of Greyholm. A place which did not actually exist, but was very far away so it was understandable no one has heard of it.

Limenent continues to live there, though by now she is known as Duchess Geary the Third.

Limenent Geary, Duchess of Greyholm (CR 11)

XP: 12,800
Female Human Vampire, Rogue 10
NE Undaed
Init +10; Senses Perception +23 (+28 to locate traps), Darkvision (60ft)

Defenses

AC 26, Flat Footed 19, Touch 17 [10 + Dex(6) + Armor(3) + Natural(6) + Dodge(1)] (AC 29 v. traps) (Cannot be caught flat footed, nor flanked, nor sneak attacked by a rogue of less than 14th level)
hp 78 (10d8 + 20)
Fast Healing 5
Fort +3 (Immune unless effect can target objects, or is harmless) Ref +15 (+16 v. Traps)(On 1/2 damage, takes no damage) Will +5
DR 10/Magic & Silver
Resist Fire 20, Channel 4, Cold 10, Electricity 10
Immunities Mind affecting effects, Bleed, Death effects, Disease, Paralysis, Poison, Sleep effects, Stunning, Nonlethal Damage, Ability Drain, Energy Drain, Physical Ability Score Damage, Exhaustion, Fatigue effects, Death from massive damage, effects which require a fortitude save

Offense

Speed 40ft
Melee Shortsword of Subtlety +15/10 (1d6 +6/19-20 x2)[Sneak Attack +17/12 (1d6 +9/19-20 x2)]
Melee Slam +12/7 (1d4 + 5/20 x2)(Magic Weapon)(Energy Drain)
Ranged Shortbow +16/11 (1d6 + 2/20 x3) [Range Increment: 70ft]
Sneak Attack 5d6 against flat footed or flanked opponents.

Stats

Str 20 (+5) Dex 22 (+6) Con — (–) Int 17 (+3) Wis 10 (+0) Cha 20 (+5)
Base Atk +7/2; CMB +12; CMD 28
Feats Quick Draw, Point Blank Shot, Far Shot, Iron Will, Run, Weapon Focus(Shortbow), Alertness, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, Toughness
Rogue Talents Fast Stealth, Stand Up, Surprise Attack, Weapon training(Shortsword), Opportunist
Skills Acrobatics (+19), Bluff(+26), Craft(Trapmaking)(+16), Diplomacy(+20), Disable Device(+24), Knowledge(Dungeoneering)(+16), Knowledge(Undead)(+13), Perception(+23)(+28 to locate traps), Sleight of Hand(+19), Stealth(+33), Use Magic Device(+18)
Languages Common, Thieve’s Cant, The Gravespeech
SQ
–Quick Draw: May draw weapons as a free action.
–Point Blank Shot: Ranged weapons gain +1 to attack and damage within 30ft.
–Far Shot: Each range increment imposes only a -1 penalty, rather than a -2.
–Run: May move 5 times normal movement rate when running, and maintains full Dex bonus to AC while doing so.
–Fast Stealth: May move at full speed while moving stealthily at no penalty.
–Stand Up: May stand up from the prone position as a free action. Still provokes attacks of opportunity.
–Surprise Attack: During a surprise round, foes are always considered flat footed. Even if they have already taken an action.
–Opportunist: 1/round, may make an attack of opportunity against a foe who has been struck for damage in melee by another character.
–Blood Drain: If an opponent is pinned, may deal 1d4 Con damage per round. Gains +5 HP (or +5 temporary HP) for each round blood is drained.
—Children of the Night: 1/day, summon 1d6+1 rat swarms, 1d4+1 bat swarms, or 2d6 wolves as a standard action. Creatures arrive in 2d6 rounds, and remain for 1 hour.
–Create Spawn: Creatures slain by blood drain or energy drain rise as subservient vampires within 1d4 days.
–Dominate: Target must succeed on a will save (DC 20) or fall under the effects of a Dominate spell.
–Energy Drain: Creatures hit by slam attacks gain two negative levels.
–Change Shape: May assume the form of a dire bat or wolf, as Beast Shape II
–Gaseous Form: As a standard action, or upon reaching 0 HP, the vampire can assume Gaseous Form indefinitely. Has a fly speed of 20ft with perfect maneuverability.
–Shadowless: Casts no shadows, nor is he reflected in a mirror
–Spider Climb: May climb surfaces as though under the effects of the Spider Climb spell.
–Combat Reflexes: May make up to 5 attacks of opportunity per round. Even while flat footed.

Weaknesses
–Aversion: Cannot tolerate the strong odor of garlic, mirrors, nor strongly presented holy symbols. Must succeed on a DC 25 will save each round, or stay at least 5ft away from these objects.
—Entrance: Cannot enter any private home or dwelling unless invited by someone with the authority to do so.
–Sunlight: Exposure to direct sunlight causes the staggered condition in the first round, and utter destruction in the second round.
–Running Water: Being submerged in running water deals damage equal to 1/3rd of max hit points per round. Upon reaching 0HP, the character could not escape using gaseous form as normal.
–Wooden Stake: If a wooden stake is driven through the heart while Limenent is helpless, she is instantly slain. However, if the stake is ever removed, she returns to life unless her head is also severed and burned.

Gear +2/+4 Shortsword of Subtlety, +2 Shortbow, 24 Arrows, 6 Sleep Arrows, 8 Arrows of Ice (+2d8 cold damage), Masterwork Studded Leather Improved Fire Resistance Armor, Ring of Water Walking, Ring of Speed +10, Softfoot Boots (stealth +6), 350 gp

Abyssal Rambling

Note: Members of my ToKiJaTiMo gaming group should not read this post.

I don’t remember precisely when I first obtained my copy of D&D 3rd edition’s Manual of the Planes. It was probably among the first supplements I ever owned. It’s almost certainly the first RPG book I read cover-to-cover. I spent much of my early life exploring fantastical worlds through books and video games, so I was no stranger to the idea of otherworldly dimensions where the laws of reality work differently. What was completely new to me was to see those worlds explained and quantified. In a narrative, it’s important to maintain an aura of mystique about such locals. But this book had diagrams, explanations of different types of gravity, even pseudoscience about how the planes interacted with one another. The volume of concepts the book presented set my imagination aflame. The possibilities of running a planar adventure are always wafting about in my mind, but in all this time, I’ve never got around to actually doing it.

In our most recent session I presented my players with four different hooks. The elves needed help in their war against the orcs to the south, and there were three different adventures the players would need to undertake to obtain the three different materials they would need to transform their sorceress into an Arachnohominid. So what happens?

Gibbous The Cleric “What about all those gnomes that were turned to stone in the dungeon?”

GM “Well, Pumofe [The party’s new gnome barbarian] was one of them. The rest are still in there.”

Gibbous “We can’t just leave them down there. We should help them first.”

Poker the Rogue “I see no profit in that.”

Rosco The Ranger “Well, we could at least tell the gnomes that they’re in there.”

Pumofe “But they can’t get them out, can they? There’s the magical barrier thing that keeps gnomes out.”

Poker “Oh! Since we’re the only ones who can go in there, we can charge the village per statue we carry out!”

Gibbous “Guys, we have gotta help these gnomes! I wasn’t here last session, how did we rescue Pumofe?”

Rosco “We used Demon’s blood.”

Gibbous “I have some of that!”

GM “No you don’t, that’s the blood they used.”

Gibbous “Cuthbert damn it! We need to find some demons then. Come on guys!”

A few hours of gameplay later, the party had tracked down their wizard friend Mahudar Kosopske, and convinced him to make them a Gem of Plane Shift with 2 charges. One to get them to the Abyss, and one to bring them home. (a scene which I recently posted an illustration of, in fact). Assuming they stick to their present adventure path, it looks like I’ll be running my first Planar adventure pretty soon. I’m excited, and brimming with ideas.

The gem the wizard is making for them will teleport them to a relatively unpopulated area, ostensibly for safety’s sake, since they are still low level adventurers. But since the purpose of their trip is to harvest blood from demons, a remote location serves the double purpose of making their task more difficult. I’ve been trying to come up with challenges they’ll need to face which will test their mettle without giving them what they need too easily. So far I’ve com up with the following:

Field of Chains an area of ground covered in barbed chains and dead bodies. At first these chains will appear to be set dressing, but once all players are standing on the chains, they will begin to make grapple attempts against the players. Once grappled by at least two chains, they will attempt to pull the player apart. Each chain is AC: 12, Hardness: 4, HP: 6, with a CMB of +6. Each round a character is successfully grappled, they will take 1 damage from the barbs on each chain, as they shift and twist. Once there are two chains on a player, they will make a combat maneuver check at a -4 penalty to pin the character. This penalty is reduced by 1 for each chain on the player. Once a player is pinned, the chains deal 1d6 damage per round as they attempt to pull the player apart.
Suicide Forest An extremely dense forest of dead trees, with a body hanging by a noose from each tree. The branches of these trees are extremely brittle, and whenever one breaks, the tree screams in agony from an unseen mouth. It is impossible to move through this forest without breaking branches every few feet. And every scream has a chance to attract a hellhound–or worse. (Thank you, Dante Alighieri!)
Acid Lake A titanic creature died here–violently. Only its top half is anywhere to be seen, and it towers above the players like a castle. It appears to have died some time ago, because it has rotted away enough that many bones are visible. Its stomach is completely gone, and from the rotted cavity a wash of green, bubbling acid flowed out to form a lake which deals 1d8+2 damage per round.
The Gods are Not Welcome Anytime a player attempts to cast any good aligned clerical magic (such as Gibbous’ healing spells) demons nearby will sense the intrusion into their realm, and a random encounter will be rolled to appear 1d6 rounds later.
Field of Razorgrass Field of waist-high grass. Any character not wearing armor takes 1d4 damage per square they move through. Characters wearing armor on their legs still take 1d4 damage, but only once per movement.

If anyone has any more environment ideas, I’m eager to hear them.

I think the best way to run this little planar excursion will be to style it like an outdoor dungeon. Instead of using 6 mile hexes, I’ll use 5ft hexes, and the players will need to solve problems in 10 minute turns. I’ll also need to figure out just how much blood they can get from each demon–and how big and bad the demons will get. If they’re not careful, they will probably encounter something severely out of their league, such as a Marileth.

Magical Marvels 7: The Son's Service

At long last, a return to my ongoing series of weapons which appeared in my Ascendant Crusade campaign. When this series left off in February, I posted about The Glare of Vecna. Prior to that I posted Gravewhisper’s Claw, Wallcraft’s Offerings and Kofek’s Tongue. All of those weapons, and now this one as well, were illustrated by my ladyfriend. You should check out more of her art on her DeviantArt page.

WARNING: This post covers material which is significantly darker than what normally appears on this blog. I’m not kidding, this gets very grim.

The Son’s Service
Artifact Kukri

PHYSICAL ATTACKS

(Kukri)(Attack) +5
(Kukri)(Damage) 1d4 + 5 (Slashing)(18-20/x3)

SPELLS GRANTED

4/Day – As a standard action, the wielder can ‘cut’ a door in the air with the blade, creating a Dimensional Door which allows the wielder to instantly travel up to 30ft.

1/Day – The caster can spend 1 minute scratching a door into a stone surface. When the door is completed, stepping through it will cause the effects of a Plane Shift spell for 1 minute. The plane the wielder wishes to travel to must be whispered to the blade before the creation of the door is begun. Anyone can step through the door, even enemies of the caster, so long as they do so within 1 minute of the door’s completion.

1/Week – If the hilt of the blade is held so the eyes of the skull meet the eyes of a helpless opponent, then the wielder may speak the trigger phrase “Love is weakness.” When this is done, a brief light will flash in the skull’s eyes. The victim’s dearest loved one must then succeed on a DC: 14 fortitude save against death. On a successful save, they still take 3d6 pain-based damage. When this happens, the victim will hear their loved one’s cries of pain, and suffers a -6 morale penalty to all rolls for the rest of the day. (This is based off of the Love’s Pain corrupt spell in the D&D 3.0 Book of Vile Darkness)

1/Week – If the hilt of the blade is held so that the skull is pressed against the heart of a victim, then the jaws of the skull will bite into the victim’s breast, tearing away a small bit of flesh. The victim will then immediately drop to -8 HP, and stabilize. No saving throw is allowed against this attack, however if the victim is wearing any kind of armor it is impossible. Making this attack in combat is extremely difficult, and works as a melee attack roll made with a -4 penalty. (No weapon bonuses are included in this attack roll, as the attack is not made with the weapon’s blade.) (This is based off of the Stop Heart spell in the D&D 3.0 Book of Vile Darkness)

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Anarchic Physical attacks against lawful creatures are made at a +2 bonus, and deal an additional 2d6 damage. (Cumulative effect with Goodbane)
Goodbane Physical attacks against good creatures are made at a +2 bonus, and deal an additional 2d6 damage. (Cumulative effect with Anarchic)
Ghost Touch Physical attacks deal normal damage against incorporeal creatures.
Stolen Youth The wielder’s aging is slowed to 1/3rd the normal rate. Any effects which would magically drain the user’s age are only 1/3rd as effective.
Gift of Agony The Intelligence of The Son’s Service suffers constant anguish over the tragedy of its creation. Once per day, it can transfer this pain to a victim through a touch attack, dealing 4d6 damage. If it has been lying dormant for awhile, it may choose to inflict this attack on the first person to pick it up.
Bodysnatcher If the blade is buried into the brain of a corpse, then The Son’s Service gains full control of that body, and any abilities it had in life. The blade’s first impulse will be to escape from its owner, and an ego check must be made to command the weapon to obey. Another ego check must be made if any attempt to remove the blade is made.

INTELLIGENT ITEM ABILITIES

EGO 32; INT 19 (+4) WIS 10 (+4) CHA 19 (+4)
Senses Darkvision 120ft, Blindsense, Hearing; Communication Speech, Telepathy
Languages Common, Abyssal, Vasharan
Alignment Chaotic Evil
Purpose The Son’s Service is a psychopath. It is constantly driven to perform vile, and harmful deeds. Most often directed towards lawful, or good characters. It loves nothing more than to be used as an implement of torture and slaughter.

APPEARANCE

The Son’s Service is a Kukri about 4 and 1/2 feet long from the end of the pommel to the tip of the blade. The entire thing appears to be made of bleached white bones. The hilt is made of a series of vertebrae, which end in a pointed pommel. The hilt of the weapon is a very small skull, and the blade protrudes from the crest of that skull. Upon close inspection, someone familiar with anatomy might recognize the blade as a warped rib-bone, which has been flattened and sharpened. Though normally dark, the eye sockets of the blade occasionally take on a faint glow when the weapon is focusing its attention.

HISTORY

The origins of the blade known as The Son’s Service are as dark and depraved as the master it was crafted to serve: Zalekios Gromar.

After the murder of his father, Zalekios was raised by the succubus, Setya. The demon knew how to feed young Zalekios’ psychopathy, and gleefully encouraged him in his childish pursuits of murder and mayhem. As he grew, Setya artfully crafted her Vasharan son into a weapon. A mortal man with all the rage and power of a demon. When he reached maturity, Setya bore for him twin children. One, a girl, she named Reizalla; destined to succeed Zalekios’ as Setya’s agent of chaos. The other, a boy, was sacrificed in a ritual so vile that it tainted the very air around it. Even centuries later, those who unwittingly stumble into the location where the ritual was performed find themselves choking and coughing as though breathing smoke.

The succubus then used powerful magics to twist and reshape the dead child’s fragile bones into a blade. One so strong it could crack steel. She dubbed the blade “The Son’s Service,” and gave it to Zalekios as a parting gift when he went forth into the world to spread chaos and death. Immediately upon accepting the blade, Zalekios could hear it cursing him in his mind. The weapon hated him with a pure malevolence, the like of which has never existed before or since. If it could, the weapon would destroy the father who cavalierly accepted the corpse of his own son as a gift. But it could not. In fact, the weapon could never take any action, or inaction, which would harm Zalekios. Nor could it even attempt to disobey him–such was the curse of the vile rituals Setya had performed.

Zalekios’ created a path of destruction throughout the world for decades. He murdered children or parents, he schemed to topple kingdoms, he did whatever would cause suffering. And always, The Son’s Service was by his side, opening the wounds which fed Zalekios’ blood soaked path. Were it not for the rancour the blade felt for its master, these would have been the happiest times of its psychopathic existence. Eventually, when Zalekios allied himself with The Whispered Queen, there was much less killing to do. She demanded a greater amount of subtlety from her companions than The Son’s Service would have liked.

Many years passed in the Whispered Queen’s service, and Zalekios grew restless. He chafed at taking orders from a woman he knew he could kill, and viewed her goals of bringing order to the world as perverse. But he could not stand against her. Powerful as he was, he knew how fiercely loyal the Queen’s other companions were. Even he would fall before their combined might. He brought to her a compromise: turn her forces on the Abyss. Let him lead her armies against the demon lord, Graz’zt. Zalekios would usurp the Demon Prince, and claim his throne for himself. Once he was a demon lord, Zalekios could spread chaos throughout the multiverse, and would have no desire to meddle in the affairs of the material plane. Besides–he argued–it couldn’t hurt to have a demon lord as a friend.

The Whispered Queen agreed, and began preparing her forces for a march into the abyss itself. The titanic army overran Graz’zt’s outer defenses, and penetrated deep into the demon lord’s Argent Palace. They reached the center of Graz’zt’s power, and with victory within his grasp, Zalekios charged the demon prince. But The Whispered Queen advanced no further. She and her forces stood in silence as Zalekios and those loyal to him were torn to pieces and devoured by demons.

The Queen had taken Zalekios’ advice to heart. It couldn’t hurt to have a demon lord as a friend.

After Zalekios’ demise, The Son’s Service was given to Reizalla for her part in the betrayal. But she found that the blade hated her for being the surviving twin almost as much as it hated Zalekios for being responsible for its existence. And the weapon was not magically compelled to obey her as it had been for their father. Reizalla traded the weapon to a balor, and ever since it has traded hands from one demon to another. Likely it now resides in the treasure vault of one mighty demon or another, yearning to draw blood once more.