OSE Weapons for Family Ties by Damage Dice for Dolmenwood

OSE Weapons for Family Ties by Damage Dice for Dolmenwood

In celebration of Necrotic Gnome’s gangbusters Old-School Essentials kickstarter, I’ve decided to put together a few listings of weapons or their equivalents from the tables found in the book. These items are spread out over damage dice, with a number of random items per category. These items can do well to compliment the results found in Wormskin 7, while also being more flavorful due to not having to worry about page space. Relatives are also important, as I’m all about that extra flavor; and a listing of which relative provided the item to you is at the bottom. Embrace the inanity of it all. This post will work best for making new characters and picking out their equipment. Also note, I do allow for a gun to be rolled up if you set your game in such a period; it is listed as a 12b, coming after a crossbow. 

Oddly enough, nothing is elfen listed below.

d4 Damage Weapons [d12]

1. Your [Relative]’s walking stick, from a time when walking holidays were common but equally arduous. [As club] 2. A fine cast-iron skillet, properly seasoned and damn near impossible to dent. Your [Relative] has used it to bash in a few skulls, though hopefully you won’t need it for that. [As club] 3. A dagger of curved longhorn ivory, allegedly won in some melee by your [Relative]. [As dagger] 4. A boar-sticking javelin that served your [Relative] well, never missed with it. Or so they said. [As javelin] 5. This gnarled oaken stave was given to your [Relative] by a hooded Watcher of the Wood, likely for some nefarious purpose. [As staff] 6. Your [Relative] claims this knife was almost plunged into their belly by pagan cultists, though that’s something of their catch-all excuse. [as dagger] 7. This long shaft of whalebone was sharpened and used for fishing when times were lean on the ship your [Relative] worked on some time ago. [As javelin] 8. This knotted, knobby, whorled piece of wood has served your [Relative] well; both in bashing knees and bashing heads. [As club.] 9. Your [Relative] stole this javelin from an athletic competition down past County Colm, back when they were competing in high-stakes hurling with High-Hankle. [As javelin.] 10. This dagger is all that’s left from your [Relative], as their compatriots claim they died stabbing and gutting some great beast with the blade; hateful and defiant to the end. [As dagger.] 11. Your [Relative] claims this crooked stave was blessed by a holy-man of “the Powers that Be” but it seems far more likely it was pilfered from some votive shrine. [As staff.] 12. Your [Relative] made this for you when you were very young, allegedly from the wood of a thunderstruck tree. You carved little emblems into it, and now you carry it with you to more violent means. [As staff.]

d6 Damage Weapons [d12]

1. Your [Relative]’s lucky hand axe from a few years spent working among the Woodcutter’s on the edge of the river. It an glide through wood like a knife through soft butter, if properly kept. [as hand axe] 2. This lance was discarded by a Knight of Brackenwold after a tournament bout they lost in disgrace. Your [Relative] picked it out of the mud as a souvenir. [As lance] 3. A fine yew longbow, well treated and kept-up from years of use, passed down to you now by your [Relative].[As long bow] 4. This shortbow was made from the precarious roots of an anklebrankle, and your [Relative] always loved to tell stories of tripping people before nocking an arrow to coerce them further. You took the bow primarily to shut them up. [As short bow] 5. Your [Relative] claims to have dug this old Goman short sword out of the muck of a river, hoping to sell it for a bit of coin. Nobody would buy it, everyone claims its haunted. You’ve never noticed anything ghastly about it. [As short sword.] 6. The Old Duke commissioned a number of swords for use against the rabblesome Goatlords who were, at the time, bucking their allegiance with the Brackenwolders. Your [Relative] came across it as a matter of service, though they never spoke further on that. [As short sword.] 7. Your [Relative] was for a time, an ally of the Lichwards of St. Faxis. This mace was a symbol of authority and service, a black polished truncheon with vague cruciform shape. [As mace.] 8. Dreams of a blue stone mace and endless laughter have long tormented your [Relative], and a week ago they were driven to madness. You heard laughter too, and it frightened you. You commissioned this mace to be plunged in molten salt to blue it; and in your hands it silences those whispering cackles in your head. [As mace.] 9. This spear was picked from a battlefield between the warring Goatlords by your [Relative], stained with gore and more than a few bodies impaled upon its length. Its point is of vicious barbed make. [As spear.] 10. Your [Relative], during a more dire time, worked as a resurrectionist. This great sledge has a claw on the back of its head, and it is allegedly a very useful tool for bashing apart wood and stone. [As warhammer.] 11. This hand axe has seen little use, both in war or in service to kindling. Your [Relative], layabout that they are, always kept it close enough to dissuade others from violence. They surely won’t miss it. [As hand axe.] 12a. A munitions grade crossbow, purchased off the back of a wagon from a quartermaster not entirely happy with his service to the Duke. Your [Relative] flayed the skin off their wrist and lost a finger once, having reloaded it improperly and suffering at the lash of the drawstring. [As crossbow] 12b. This arquebus from the gunnery works down past County Colm, made of banded iron and hard rosewood stock. A masterclass in efficient design, your [Relative] considers it to be a waste of money and hasn’t said a kind word about you since you bought it. [As crossbow]

d8 Damage Weapons [d12]

1. A battle axe from the armory of House Nodwick, offered as a dowry to your [Relative]. The relationship was spurned, and the weapon never returned. It is of superior, noble, make. [As battle axe.] 2. This flask of pungent oil was purchased by your [Relative] and left to obscurity in the cellar for several years. A painted label of red fruit and flames upon it speak to a perfidious purpose if properly used. [As oil flask, burning.] 3. This sword once belonged to an infamous hedge knight, their mark of service is marred into the pommel though your [Relative] took great efforts in clawing it into obscurity with a chisel. They’d rather you sell it for scrap, though it rouses the question as to why they hadn’t done that themselves? [As sword.] 4. A glass jar with an off-yellow liquid inside, floating within it are some sort of cultured mould. It is labelled “the Shantywood Special” and your [Relative] laughs, then feels great shame, when they’re asked what that’s supposed to mean. It is corrosive, like acid. [As holy water, but certainly not. If moved into a different flask the aeration makes it just moot, vinergary goop.] 5. Bottle of cultured truffle oil from the Pook’s Way Taphouse, it smells divine and greatly increases the flavor of anything it is added to. Highly flammable and sticky; an expensive flask of burning oil, but one which will smell lovely. A Saint’s Day gift from [Relative]. [As oil flask, burning.] 6. A clay cruciform canteen, blessed by the Bishop Sanguine upon a feasting day mass and passed down to you from your [Relative] who hopes to see you keep it safe and pass it down to your own children someday. 7. Your [Relative] was run through with this blade, delivered in agonizing cruelty by a brigand from the wood. They fled from your anger, and all that is left from that terrible night is memories of loss, a hastily dug grave, and this blade which must be returned in kind. [As sword.] 8. In a better life you could’ve been a proper blacksmith, an apprentice to your [Relative] who saw talent in you. Enough to enter a competition in blademaking. Enough to lose to Jorye, that lucky Lankshorn bastard. Enough for your [Relative] to fall heavily to the bottle in disgrace. You made this sword together, it should mean something more than humiliation. [As sword.] 9. Your [Relative] was an executioner, a shameful position that they were forced into after debts and losses to a noble house. They’ve recently managed to buy themselves out of this title, but that derelict axe still hungers. [As battle axe.] 10. As a child you and [Relative] would play fight with “swords” made from the brittle branches that fell in autumn; you always got the better of them, though they might’ve let you win. This blade you own was a gift from them, they hope you will cherish it, they fear it will lead to your death… [As sword] 11. This battle axe came from a time when your [Relative] thought they could be a proper kern and serve for sake of liberating their peers from foreign encroachment by the Mad Queen’s lineage. The way distant nobles were so quick to lick her boot and how it led to their masters doing so in spirit, disenfranchised your [Relative]. Use this axe for freedom, for chaos against bloody Havenland and its peoples. [As battle axe.] 12. This wicked sword was found by your [Relative] by one of the standing stones in the wood. It thrummed, almost calling to them, it whispered your name in a guttural tone. The blade is chalky to the touch, tarnished with a strange oil. It is swift when swung, but no mark of enchantment appears upon it. [As sword.]

d10 Damage Weapons [d6]

1. A wavy flamberge style sword, brought back by your [Relative] whilst they fought in foreign lands. They came back touched and distant, and you taking the sword away brought them a small, sad comfort. [As two-handed sword.] 2. A cruciform-hilted claymore, allegedly an ancestral artifact of early cooperation between your family and the Church of the One True God. Heavy is its weight, both in history and in the lopping of heads. [As two-handed sword.] 3. This sword has brought kinstrife between your family members for years, it was last seen in the hands of your [Relative] as they came for you, accusing you of crimes both real and imagined. It is in your hands now, and you feel no magical compulsion to kinstrife or kinslay; but you feel a fear that it might come upon you; or anyone else who might take up this blade. [As two-handed sword.] 4. A halbred brought from the Havenlands by one of the Queen’s beef fed royal guards. He was brought low by mercenaries gone gallowglass, and the fine weapon found itself in your possession by way of your [relative] to whom they owed back pay. [As polearm] 5. Your [Relative] killed one of Lord Ramius’s longhorn retainers in a duel of honor; how they found themselves in that is a matter of contention and debate. Equally so is how they won. This bec de corbin was looted from the corpse of the goatman knight, and its metal’s twilight violet gleam speak to its value. Surely someone will come for it, and as your [relative] is bedraggled with paranoia, it is now your burden. [As polearm.] 6. This glaive is poorly shaped, having been used by your [relative] as a gondola whilst they plied smuggler work on the Lac. Some parts of its rust will never come clean, and its certainly seen better days; but what matters is that it is yours now and you won’t treat it so poorly. [As pole-arm.]

Relative [d20]

1. Father

2. Mother

3. Uncle

4. Aunt

5. Grandfather

6. Grandmother

7. Great-Grandmother

8. Great-Grandfather

9. Cousin

10. Romantic Partner

11. Bastard Cousin

12. Elder Brother

13. Elder Sister

14. Great Aunt

15. Great Uncle

16. Bastard Sibling

17. Nana

18. Great-Grandparent's Nurse

19. Spouse

20. Ex-Spouse This post works well in tandem with this previous post: Names & Family Foundings.

Dolmenwood by the Dozen: Mooncalfe & The Cult of the Glorious Dreaming Moon

Hey look at that, a return to an old blogging thing. I still have all my old article notes saved in a Google Doc. What follows is a character from a bit down the line of articles I had ideas for, but I like the idea of her. 

I feel like, of all the things I've written but never finished, this was a series of articles with the most potential. Given that I've fallen in with really enjoying B/X material, I feel that it only behooves me to make stuff with it. 

Also two posts in one day, what treachery be this?

===============

Mooncalfe, pale of complexion and of hair, touched by the strange voices of the night sky since a child; must appease them with blood. Called this by her mother because she is as sweet and caring as a calf to its cow with skin as pale as the luminous moon. A drunewife, she wears a hooded cowl of weasels, stitched together and not-quite-dead, as she scampers through the midnight woods of the Dwelmfurgh. She has taken to humming in mockery in the same tune of the weeping brides of Lord Malbleat, whose estate she enjoys stalking the periphery of. 

She knows well the secrets of the Drune, she attends the midnight meetings of lesser cultists in the form of an albino rabbit. She hastens to grow the anxieties between the folk of Lankshorn and the Drune Lodge. She herself has been bewitched since birth, she took her first breath at a moment when the godlet Ambule stirred from chalky slumber. She works, unwittingly, to the godlet’s ends.

She has killed, thus far, three pilgrims in the woods. The Drune are aware of these killings and grant tacit approval to the violence used to protect her family homestead. She has made kilnlings around their severed heads, and the clay she’s used are rich with chalk. Ambule can feel the movement of these kilnlings, like a stirring comfort to rouse the godlet from slumber.

Mooncalfe

AC 9, HD 3 (14hp), Att 1 × moonstone dagger (1d4+1), THAC0 19, MV 60’ (20’), SV D13 W14 P13 B16 S15 (M1), ML 9, AL C, XP 90, NA Unique. 

• Nature Songs: If Mooncalfe sings for at least one minute, she may cast invisibility upon herself or assume the form of an albino rabbit as though polymorphed without need of reagents. 
• Moonstone Dagger: Mooncalfe possesses a crude feldspar looking flint-cut knife, wrapped in a handle made of her own pale locks. It glows in moonlight and strikes with a +1 bonus to hit and to damage when used at night. Scratching out your own name from Prigmarinn Hill with this knife can allow the worshipper to reclaim part of their soul, enough to reincarnate. 
• Coat of Weasels: Mooncalfe’s squirming coat of weasels which silently pull away from any source of danger. If the wearer, in a panicked voice commands them to “Flee!” the wearer will gain the benefit of a haste spell, doubling movement rate, when fleeing an enemy or threat.

Mooncalfe’s Plots

If Mooncalfe continues her plots, she will eventually come to control a small cult to Ambule (or as she will call the godlet, the Glorious Dreaming Moon). The members will mostly be made of foolhardy, desperate, and would-be occultists in Lankshorn and Dreg (stat as acolytes) and they will begin to make silent pilgrimages to the eastern edge of the Dwelmfurgh to pray at Prigmarinn Hill and carve their name into the column in chalk. She will have 1d4 followers within a month of starting the cult, gaining an additional 2d6 acolytes for each month that follows. They pray here on the night of the New Moon and the Full Moon. 

The Drune will notice her actions at a rate of 1-in-10, gaining an additional +1 to that roll every pilgrimage her cult takes to Prigmarinn Hill. There is always a 50% chance any Drune will misogynistically think this is just drunewife idiocy and reset this counter back to 1-in-10.

The authorities of Lankshorn and Dreg will notice her actions at a rate of 1-in-20, though if her followers begin to attack church-goers or priestly sorts (and they just might), she will then be noticed at a rate of 1-in-10. The authorities gain an additional +1 to this roll every moon cycle or whenever a prominent citizen returns from the Hill, baptized in chalk.

Members of the cult speak only of beautiful dreams, of dwelling in a palace in the clouds, hands affixed to pillars in garlands as they are fed by waifs and angels. This is when they can speak at all. Those who join the cult slowly lose the ability to sleep their mind is bewitched with pleasing images of dreams, but sleep itself is anathema to them such that a sleep spell will drive them into a fit of screaming (suffering 2d4 damage per turn they'd have slept). Mooncalfe kills the most far gone, using them to make new kilnlings (see Wormskin #7).

What are her followers like? [d12]

1. Unnatural pallor to their flesh, paler than an albino, paler than bone.

2. Collects only white dust as detritus and filth upon their person.

3. Coughs a wheezing cough, exhaling powder much like flour. 

4. Has begun carving names into their flesh, identical penmanship to those found at the Hill.

5. Wears an upside rabbit mask of rotted wood and whitewashed paint. 

6. Wears pumice and white stones, tied to their limbs with twine. Walks strangely.

7. Hums a strange melody, like weeping mourners. 

8. Wears a white woad upon their naked flesh, made from chalk powder and bird feces.

9. Has a zombified gait, as if in a drunken stupor or devoid of cognition.

10. Preaches loudly and insanely at night, running naked through the streets wearing a pumice mask shaped like the moon.

11. Hands are drenched in many coats of dried blood, speaks numbly, wants to feel "the ivory liquid" of the glowing chalken moon god.

12. Wears a wooden token of birch, carved to look like a weasel bent in the shape of a crescent moon.

Who has been converted? [d12]

1. Pilgrims, from far-and-off settlements.

2. Tax collectors from out of Castle Brackenwold.

3. Drunks and lechers out of Shantywood Manor.

4. Goatmen and half-goats from Lankshorn.

5. Rivermen and boatswain from Dreg.

6. A wandering friar and some woodland guides.

7. Students of Antiquated Cults & Developing Religions from the Royal College of Loom.

8. The least of the Drune, young men who can barely wear a hood let-alone cast a spell.

9. Wandering mercenaries who felt the need to find a new god.

10. Young teens from Lankshorn and Dreg, eager to be edgy and "pagan."

11. Moss dwarfs, now desiccated, dehydrated, and powdery.

12. An important local figure; a blacksmith, banker, or friend of the party. They were coerced. 

Bringing Mooncalfe to Justice

The Drune will not care about Mooncalfe or her mortal thralls for the most part, they will give her a stern talking-down-to if she brings too many woodsfolk too close to the Dwelmfurgh’s borders; but they will generally consider her just to be foolish and lonely. If they learn about her connection to Prigmarinn Hill, they will respond with a desire for violence against her---but they fear that any open attacks might bring reprisals from Lankshorn and Dreg; a threat they hardly desire to see attack them. Adventuring parties who are of friend to the Drune (as much as a friend can be to the Drune) will be granted access to one of her magical items upon her death; though they will demand the body be returned to them for proper evaluation.

Lankshorn will want Mooncalfe dead or "imprisoned." Lord Malbleat described her physique in blood-curdling terms after seeing her once from his manor’s window; he'd take her for a wife if imprisoned---and this would cause strife against the Drune, surely. The goats do not know of her magical equipment, and thus will have zero claim to it upon her death. Malbleat will pay in petty favors and a pittance of gold for her head, though he’ll offer petty titles additionally for her to be delivered to him in shackles.

The folk of Dreg want her dead, specifically they want her body to be burned at the stake like a witch. They want this to set a message, and the whole rogue’s gallery of a town will pay a “permanent” discount on goods and services, as well as the offering of a freshly dredged river vessel; large enough for travel along the Lake and cramped living quarters. It was an old fishing vessel, and if the party doesn’t want it, they’ll use the wood to further burn Mooncalfe. They also, do not know of her magical items, though local collectors will remark on her “gem-stone knife” and offer a fine price for it.

What if we ignore her?

Within a year, she’ll have several hundred soulless thralls under her command and Ambule will stir in its divine slumber, granting her visions of the world as a white-dusted wasteland of deathly chill and strange songs. She will begin to interpret any rumors of the Cold Prince as him being a herald of her god, and she will assist in those endeavors alongside her people at every turn. If, somehow, she survives to see the Cold Prince return; he will look at her for half a moment before cutting her to ribbons and remarking to a lieutenant about the strangeness of the newer Drunesfolk.

Dolmenwood: Names & Family Foundings

I'm to be starting up a new Dolmenwood campaign shortly, and as such I felt to add some material to my character generation documents. What follows are some listing of surnames and family foundings, for use with some of the generator content for Henchmen found in Wormskin #7. There's more content to come (I've been working on some Level 9 Stronghold/Gift stuff, but that's taking quite a bit of time), so here's some stuff in the mean time for making human characters for the setting.

Names & Families

Not all family lines are created equal, and even those of prominent means can fall into languid ruin. Use the following tables to determine your family name, common or vaunted.

Roll a d20, on a roll of 11+ your family was once vaunted and held power. On a roll of 10 or less, your family is common, but ambition only might change their stars.

If the roll was even, the founder of your family line was a woman, and her surname is what you carry. If the roll was odd, the founder was a man, and you bare his surname.

Only those knowing deeply of bloodlines and titles can tell the distinction, and seldom is there power to be gained in this.

Common Surnames [Man d20]

1. Slangbunke

2. Hoggswaddle

3. Falconkrief

4. Toppleman

5. Silver

6. Swift

7. Rumcraven

8. Doggersea

9. Alderlash

10. Redlock

11. Lobspound

12. Motherall

13. Blaggbook

14. Ginswain

15. Tumultide

16. Muckworm

17. Skegwit

18. Woodsmen

19. Culpit

20. Saints-Day

Common Surnames [Woman d20]

1. Nacky

2. Pittock

3. Owl-in-Ivy

4. Pannamloaf

5. Trantum

6. Clovers

7. Pensioner

8. Quipcove

9. Redletter

10. Lockbonder

11. Hearshill

12. Ragrattler

13. Sacheverel

14. All-a-Gog

15. Dugdropper

16. Mackelmace

17. Elmsown

18. Bridecrown

19. Switchgoggle

20. Wappenswhid

Vaunted Surnames [Man]

1. Dorian

2. Grimmcleu

3. Seldomsythe

4. Keyeslake

5. Magelfylte

6. Gravefend

7. Abbesser

8. Tosham

9. Bugaroch

10. Carvelring

11. Erlenger

12. Highpipple

13. Gorm

14. Skwilhammer

15. Yetch

16. Quartis

17. Blackwood

18. Aiderwine

19. Wolf-in-Womb

20. Salamie

Vaunted Surnames [Woman]

1. Pursons

2. Faustoon

3. Cromlechter

4. Silvershear

5. Wapperwash

6. Scratch

7. Woomblette

8. Garfengeld

9. Eench

10. Hardwater

11. Sternholm

12. Breunbrokkle

13. Xantippe

14. Yaffleneck

15. Zedland

16. Bowernock

17. Leddlemont

18. Pastor-Prudence

19. Toddy

20. Karnality

Common, Family Founding [d12]

1. Your ancestor took care of their spouse after a bandit raid on the settlement almost saw them dead. They held bitterness to those marauders, long after age and circumstance would’ve seen their enemies dead.

2. Your ancestors worked the same trade, they drank together, and soon enough were betrothed. They never really loved one another, but they respected none more than the other.

3. Your ancestor married the sibling of their true love, who was lost in a botched exorcism which saw the family line forever blighted in the books of witch-finders. Long has this whim of cruel fate tarnished the family line.

4. Your ancestors were hated enemies, forced to cooperate in the face of a greater threat, which lead to friendship and eventually to love. In their dying days, they laughed at the hate which once clouded their hearts.

5. Your ancestors met at the burial of a mutual friend, and though the weight of loss always seemed to bedraggle them, they wrote many a letter about their scant happy years. They seemed happy towards the end, as if appreciating a cessation of miseries.

6. Your ancestor was a brute, a vicious creature of rough hand and cold heart. How their spouse survived them all those years is a matter of family lore which changes depending on who is asked. The most common theory is the spouse murdered your ancestor, for their own survival.

7. Your ancestors were friends since childhood, raised on the same wet nurse some have said. They had a penchant for mischief and greed which followed them well into adulthood, and though they died penniless; their ambitions were always of note. Perhaps as a cautionary tale.

8. Your ancestor started their bloodline on a whim, because they could, because they wanted to forge something greater than themselves. It didn’t matter what anyone else wanted, or how they felt. Your ancestor took what they wanted, and your family line is still harangued by those actions.

9. Your ancestors served the Church, and their buggery was a breach of conduct which nearly saw them excommunicated. A sermon on the nature of mercy and hospitality towards the injured and tired was a controversial choice for your ancestor to preach, but it saved them from the lash.

10. Your ancestor was a nearly divine fool, often nude, often drunk, often freezing to death in the streets. They met their partner on a cold winter evening, shared a warm wassailing cup of cider and mint; and things felt less foolish soon after that.

11. Your ancestor stole their spouse from the Elflands, or so the family claims. It’s why your line is comely and beautiful to gaze upon, but also why the lot of you are sorrowful and prone to wanderlust. The Faeries have their own thoughts on this, most of which are mocking.

12. Your ancestors fought in a grand territorial dispute, Only after they’d claimed some degree of supremacy over all others would they marry and make merry. They were eventually undone by their many enemies, but the family line lives on.

Vaunted, Family Founding [d12]

1. Your ancestor was a bon vivant, powerful of word and aflush with coin. They had many suitors, and many more lovers. It is unknown if your branch of the family were the true born or the bastard born, but few in your family are as kind and carefree as its founder.

2. Your ancestors fell into diabolism and hedonism. They were debauched, sadistic, and felt that no righteous hand could ever stop them. One in your line was fierce enough to put the rest to the torch, to claim their filthy lucre, and to rebuild a more chatse and humble kindred.

3. Your ancestor held an estate of antiquated stone, and in isolation found only madness. They would marry, first their spouse, then the children produced by that spouse. They would create a brood, malformed and sick of mind. In recent years, things have been...cleaner.

4. Your ancestors were heroes, champions of the realm who waged blade against wicked foes. The family estate changed hands many times over the years, but you still bare a set of colors which any noble of worth can recognize from the stories of old.

5. Your ancestors wagered with coin and mercenaries at a time of great need. It earned them further coin and the force of arms to protect it, as well as the enmity of the ruling nobles. Even now they plot against your family for deeds done in ages long past. They call you an upstart.

6. Your ancestry can be traced to the upper echelons of the Church, to bastards born of bishops and cardinals, redeemed in the eyes of martyrs, and left to found a family with indulgent coin and unearned comfort. Many in your family find it hard to hold faith as easily as they hold a coin.

7. Your ancestors waged war against the heralds of Hell and all those who would bend the knee to infernal powers. They fell into paranoia and infighting, dark pacts with lesser fiends in exchange for the means to defeat greater beings. Your estate is in ruins, your family scattered or corrupt, and a dark hate clouds your heart at the worst of times.

8. Your ancestor was a fetch, a mock, a changeling; and you were born from its lines. It is a family secret, learned upon the passage into adulthood. You are a servant of an Elfland lord, a slave despite the wealth festooned about you. Your free will is your own, though it does not often feel that way.

9. Your ancestors were explorers, adventurers, and looters. Your family estate was built on the wealth pilfered from tombs raided and people’s plundered. You are in many ways devoid a sense of family identity that is not built upon conquest and the extortion of others.

10. Your ancestor was related to royalty, and though their claim was distant then and distant further still now, it saw them reason to hide among the common man. Your estates were never lavish, though they were comfortable. Your family line and colors appear more in ancient scholarly works than upon any banners.

11. Your ancestor was made to bed a progeny of the Goatlords, so as to secure an alliance of power between your factions. Every so often one in your line is born Goatish, and this is a mark of shame in these modern times. The Goatmen still acknowledge your house colors, for sake of hospitality between your people.

12. Your ancestors were scholars, aides to true nobility, and gained their name and power from noted discoveries at the start of now prominent crafts. They were skilled in their craft and skilled further in their studies. You know their penmanship, and those of their students, from countless hours spent reading their works as a child.

The Monsoon Ghats - 1. The Faith of Colors & Early Notes

The Lord of the Universe ignited the twin suns of soul and sacrament, illuminating the endless tapestry of night. All His manifold dreams coalesced into all that exists, in all possible forms and in the illusory stardust between those forms. Joy and emotion clouded the supreme truth of the Lord of the Universe, and in the light of the twin suns be birthed the world illusory. 

Granting His raw blissful emotion a place in the mist and smoke, the water and sky, and for a time He watched. He watched His virtues and vices, His ideals and emotions, and all the sins He thought Himself too majestic to possess. 

And then He heard a Voice, which granted Him purpose; for it was not of His creation. It spurred something new, His curiosity...

>*<

The Monsoon Ghats are the southern coastal mountains of the Land of Triumph, where the Lord of the Universe found joy and sorrow and was wounded by mortal man in a war betwixt the illusory nature of existence and the supreme truth of the cosmos. 

It is a borderland of the lush, with the ocean side of the ghats locking deep black soils and rich sinewy trees. Civilization holds itself here, bound by doctrine of the Daeva and the Asura; The Faith of Colors, honored still despite the warring nature of these celestial tribes. The common folk cling to moralities that might allow them to change their stars, often in lock-step with atrocities committed at the behest of their masters towards those who will not bow as deeply. The Faith of Colors was a thing of splendor before the celestial tribes suffered their schism, now the vestiges of once was engage in petty skirmishes for supplication. 

Many in the Ghats hold themselves to but four colors, forsaking all others. They festoon their banners and houses with that they were born to, hoping with power and time to ascend to the next.

Many are weaker for sake of these petty ambitions. 

A dog's age since a brahmin was born of deepest indigo and void-knowing. Most are conformed to mortal colors and mortal aspiration;, dominance, power, wealth and joy. Illusory items that weigh heavily upon their karma and might sink them completely to serpent-shriven underworlds if not for deeds done in ages past. 

The Faith of Colors is not diminished in its majesty, though it is fractured and as such tested. Those who once served it have been forsaken in man's pursuit of supremacy and comforts. 

The Raksha demand fealty for their service in the War of Wounding. Few are willing to pay, fewer still willing to admit the atrocities forced upon them. Some were concepts, illusory sins bound with purpose to slay perfidious river naga; others were of mortal tribes bent to the will of cruel words and made monsterful to fill the hosts of the supreme truth. They are a horror to behold, blackened like ash without an ember to stoke their soul. The Faith broke them, and now they play the villain for hope of promises to be honored and old shames apologized for. 

The Vanara are of equal pain, forced now to live in a world without blissful ignorance and the frivolity of a war-time's simple morality. Virtue forced into the framework of ignorant animal can make good deeds bestial and make a simple atavist contemplate too darkly the nature of their soul. These are not the heroes of ancient deeds, their temples and statues are forlorn. Most think of them as thieves and fools, undeserving of respect within the hierarchy. The Faith has left them to the wayside, they're characters for children's stories now.

The Bangla, the bear-people, have never held the Faith of Colors in any high regard, they wish only to fight and appease their Mountain at the roof of the world. Those within the Ghats are sell-swords and monster hunters, looking to drink deep the honey of the earth before they return to the stone from which they were born. Upon the fur of their chest is a pattern still, a rank held in the ancient armies, they feel contempt for those who do not recognize the mark. They claim to hear the dreams of the Lord of the Universe echoing out from the Mountain, though man does not entertain this blasphemy.

The Naga-Malla are perhaps all that remain truly devout to the Faith of Colors, and they view humanity as holding it in poor regard. The elephants existed since the first thrumming sound emitted when the Lord of the Universe ignited the twin suns. They know truth and revile in the illusory world which grows stronger with each passing age. They feel great doom, each cycle reborn with less of the world being as it should be. They would remake the Faith of Colors, but too quickly would man tarnish it in their petty grasp for power.

>*<

At a Glance
The Monsoon Ghats is a setting which makes use of a mash-up of B/X & Knave rulings, and it is constructed for sake of being a toolbox setting book akin to Yoon-Suin. Attention and research is paid for sake of representing religious and ethnic groups in a fantastical world without (hopefully) dishonoring their real world counterparts. Symbols and influences are meant to be present, but no group should be a 1-for-1 translation. I've been told to aim for that which I find interesting by my readers, and as such the Monsoon Ghats are designed for tiers of play which will eventually see characters involved more in warfare and politics than mere dungeon-delving. This is not a game of superheroic divinely powered characters, it is by design intended to come across as a vaguely pre-Vedic India which is dealing with other religions and socio-political factors that would not have cropped up in said era.

Notes in Broad Strokes

In meta-contextual notes; the Faith of Colors is the stand-in for Hinduism within the broader setting. It is, for the bulk of those who reside within the Monsoon Ghats, the truth of creation. It is henotheistic for the most part, though the Lord of the Universe's exact status is open to debate. He may be all that is, and thus beyond reaching; he may be only remnants and vestiges in the form of the Asura and Daeva, his sins and virtues and all of humanity is but a continued test to see if illusory desires or supreme truths will have a true victor.

I realize much of what is here doesn't present greater context to the religion, and that's...noted. I have more written but I'd rather not just lore-dump, especially for homebrew. I can bang it out to a good four pages altogether explaining the current socio-political-religious situation of the world, but I'd rather get further work done before that. Things change. My two sensitivity reader pals, one Hindu one Muslim, are both of the mind that I'm doing all right; but I'm a religious parasite who has never found that perfect fit while at the same time appreciating all the imagery. So it will be a situation. I also don't want the Faith of Colors to come across as Hinduism with the numbers filed off, because that's boring and offensive and I'll make note of that further down the page for those still reading. 

The Lord of the Universe, is for sake of my own interests, based more on the Jagannath by way of Vaishnavite origin. Though for my purposes he is re-purposed as an entity of flaws and virtues; who upon finding something beyond his own creation (perhaps this alone is a deception, an illusion, a falsehood) allowed himself to descend to the world he'd created and be subsequently maimed and wounded by aspects of himself he dared not accept. He is, for my purposes, much like a young lover who in his own inability to accept and work on his weaknesses, is undone by them. 

This is not a setting of Good and Evil, Law and Chaos; it is one of Virtue and Illusion by which ones karma is judged. Those who adhere to positive actions in their life will face many tests and will, hopefully, rise to the occasion stronger for it. Those who dwell in the illusory world of temporary mortal joys will be given chance to deny such things, and many may yet fail. Karma, as a statistic, is  on a 1-100 rating with thresholds. It is primarily rolled when you wish for someone to believe in you or to appeal to their better nature. It is used by Holy-men to reveal the wicked and weak of moral fiber. It has no stronger power than that and in translation between other faiths beyond the Faith of Colors, things are often lost. 

I like personally, the idea of demi-humanity within the setting being leftovers from a powerful ancient conflict. The Vanara are without guidance or grand heroism to participate in, as such they are without purpose in these "modern" times. The Raksha are either illusory spirits forced into a truism, a "Cruel-but-Certain" or "Spiteful-but-Honest" type of situation; or they are made from human beings who in seeking their own grasp on the world were converted against their will. I always found it interesting how certain groups in Hinduism were demonized while still being very much real-world ethnic group stand-ins. I like the Raksha as being strange spiritual ogre-esque horrors who by all accounts deserve praise and thanks but are not given any; I think this can lead to a tragic narrative and purpose for adventuring.

The Bangla are based upon Jambavan, and in theory they are meant to represent those who religion has left behind, the larger than life heroes whose own traditional way is discarded in favor of what is palatable and easier as a societal control mechanism. I also like the idea of blue sun bear/sloth bear monster hunters, that's cool. They mirror well against the Naga-Malla, whose traditional view on the Faith of Colors is that humanity has perverted it and things are only getting worse; they're literal Opener of Ways and Remover of Obstacles type elephant demi-gods. 

I like the idea of a starting party consisting of various humans from differing varna, who function in society on different levels but in the eyes of any demi-humanity character are all the same. I personally view the "caste" system as a control mechanism, especially in our modern day where its subtle strings are things I have to deal with as a fully Americanized/Colonized brown person. That all being said, I do of course have massive respect for Hinduism as a religious grouping. It is beautiful and intriguing. 

Which leads to my next note.

No Kali in Fantasylands

Not a fan of putting real world religions 100% into fantasy worlds, it just doesn't do me right. While it is already presumptuous to state a religion to be an absolute truth in fantasy, it is even more harmful to do so while misrepresenting it egregiously. There is no Kali or Hanuman or Ganesh in the Monsoon Ghats, what there is would be Daeva or Asura; the benevolent and baleful faces of the shining supreme beings who represent those sorts of powers. 

Hopefully by Friday, though I make no promises, I'll have my proper Daeva/Asura Generator for the Monsoon Ghats up. It is made for determining lesser house/personal deities, larger deities, and the stories associated with them. Each figure has multiple stories depending on their domains (they are tied to the Holy-man class, after all), as well as notes for items like should one become a decapitated god, or should one become an amalgamated deity. 

The Monsoon Ghats is meant to have more to it than just Hinduism. Jainism (under the framework auspices of the specific belief that it existed prior to Hinduism), Sikhism, Buddhism, Islam, and certain more interesting forms of Shaktism will see parallels; none of which are intended to be 1-for-1s, and all of which may have some degree of commentary upon them while at the same attempting to respect and pay kindness to their beauty. Which is to say that if I am to go into this specific set of randomizations for not!Hinduism, the same sort of care and consideration for randomizers would also need to be applicable to other faiths in the game. 

Current play-testing sees a Holy-woman of the Bel Shahih (the pseudo-Islam of the setting), and that's going well, or at least is capturing the spirit of what I'm working towards so sayeth one of my readers. I would say it is going well to the point that even if I end up being an imperfect creator for this project, I will hopefully at least provide material enough to not misrepresent and to also allow for someone to use said material as tools to do a much better job in the future. 

Dolmenwood: 30 Rumors Overheard

What follows was part of the same project as Gifts for Dolmenwood Classes, which I might finish up at some point when times are more certain. The idea for the rumors overheard were that they were dialogues or conversations heard at a feast, in a pub, et cetera; they are the epitome of gossip had by folks with drinks in their hands who want others to engage with them as they speak on these topics. Such rumors are, most likely, not fully true; but could help spark seeds of adventures down the line.

Though looking back on that post, I notice I forgot to update it for the Crowmaster & Woad Rager classes. I suppose, given my own additions to my homebrew Dolmenwooding, I ought to add Ratlings & Wosemen items before I post an update to the gifts. I have some ideas in mind...

Anyhow, here are 30 Rumors Overheard - Dolmenwood.

Rumors Overheard in the Dolmenwood [d30]

1.       “Heard there’s some lunatic up in the Fever Marshes, says he’s found a cheese that can cure damn near anything.”“…How does one find cheese in the Fever Marshes of all places?” “Oh that’s…I really don’t want to think on that.”

2.       “The Goat-Lords are at it again, bet this war is going to torch the whole damn High Wold.”“Wouldn’t that get fairies involved?”“Oh God, just what we need. Bloody fairy politicking with the longhorns.” “Maybe we’ll be dead by then.”

3.       “The Watchers are planning something. Something foul!”“What?”“Probably something active and wicked.”“…Would that make them the Actors?”“What?” “Like, they watched now they acted.”“…Talking about the bleeding end times and you’re cracking wise?”

4.       “I saw my cousin the other day, got bloody bewitched.”“Ain’t no such thing as witches.”“Tis true. He’s a woman now, stumbled out the woods blathering about a witch god what took his beater.”“..And you're sure this is your cousin, not a she-bandit what's gonna rob you blind in your sleep?”“Again? Bloody unlikely. I hope.”

5.       “I heard the Havenlanders might try to claim all Emeraude under some sort of Protectorate.” “The fuck is a Havenlander?” “They’re a bunch of gloomy dirt-eating sods.” “Oh…Think they’d tax us worse than Hogwarsh and Lucien?”

6.       “I heard The Royal College of Sorcery has all but boycotted the Sardineers Club.” “Woglemain pay with gilded leaves again?” “No clue, but nothing good can come from wizards and rich boys fighting.” “Well…maybe if they killed one another.”

7.       “The Venerable Laurenne was seen wandering the wold near Goatman territory.” “Maybe she’ll convert a few of the bastards.” “Or be eaten.” “Maybe her blessed flesh will convert a few of the bastards.” “Possibly into corpses.”

8.       “Oh lord, Shadwell and Furroughby are at it again last I heard. You hear this?” “Aye yeah, something about digging up a lost Goman city.” “Sure that won’t bring us curses.” “Or wretched undead.” “Fecking bastards, hope they choke.”

9.       “Got myself a bit of ink at the Roost.” “Yeah? How many venereal diseases you catch as well?” “…I don’t think I caught any.” “I heard they use all sorts of nasty stuff, you can never be too sure.” “Never in my life had I heard that. Thanks for this new needless worry, ya prat.”

10.    “Lord Borrid says he’s going to host a grand hunt come autumn, but I hear he needs men as soon as winter thaws.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah. Gotta hire some poor blokes to capture the beasts he’ll let those frilly-pantsed nobles hunt come fall.”

11.    “It’s a conspiracy. Shydewicke don’t throttle folk.” “Oh? And you know this how? You friends with the Shade?” “I’m just saying, man’s a thief not a highwayman proper. Those bodies were mangled.” “Well, stranger things do happen…”

12.    “You been to Brandybile’s as of late?” “Not for a year and a day, why’s that?” “I hear some cult done filched his last four shipments of Lunden twill with them lil’green stone beads.” “Anyone find’em?” “Nah. That money’s just laying out.”

13.    “Got me a new knife, Jorye of Lankshorn made it.” “Oh, bad tidings there. Boy’s a devil-worshipper.” “WHAT?” “His blades cut keener than God intends and he’s got nasty pagan marks in his shop. I’d toss the knife” “…But I like me knife.”

14.    “One of the Sardineers wants to burn down Man of Gold, and I won’t be surprised if he does.” “What happened now?” “The rich boy wanted to please his wife so he went there, bought a special herb, and he’s been sporting a spike down there ever since. Been going nigh on three weeks.” “…That’s too long however ya cut it.”

15.    “..And then Sir Waverly just straight up had that knight beaten with clubs.” “Well you don’t accuse a man of corking his lance.” “But he usually takes those banters, especially from knights, in good humor.” “Probably gonna have some bad petty squabbles because of this.” “Oh aye, or worse. An expensive tournament.”

16.    “I heard ol’Thornwaif might be fleeing to the Havenlands.” “Didn’t she melt someone’s face off?” “Nah, but someone bought acid from her and melted someone’s face off. So, won’t be surprised.” “Damn shame. Already heard enough to find her stuff on the market. I like her little firecrackers.”

17.    “The Ducal Surveyor’s Guild is looking to re-evaluate taxes throughout the wold.” “Oh bloody great. The crowners show up yet?” “Already at Castle Brackenwold, building up a large troupe to break knees and steal money.” “Well, from the land-holders maybe. We should be fine, right?” “We ever really fine?”

18.    “Damn shame, I was told Paronax the Enwisened was going to be here.” “Didn’t take you for a friend to wizarding folk.” “Well I met him on the road not too long ago and he was blathering on about hiring on for some frog-catching for his research. Said he’d pay a king’s ransom.” “Can’t trust no wizards, friend.”

19.    “Mostlemyre damn near shat himself when he saw that coin I found.” “Magic?” “Old, possibly Goman, possibly fairy but like very old fairy.” “And you found that in your latrine?” “Aye, and now the bloke wants to fund a dig.” “In your latrine?”

20.    “Bishop is probably going to excommunicate Father Dobey.” “Why’s that?” “Well the man beds himself with goats.” “…Actual goats or she-goatmen?” “I always took him for a schemer.” “Aye, but you feck one goat and here you are…”

21.    “Merridwyn Scymes is making monsters out there in the woods, I swear to God, the One and True!” “…I mean, yeah, likely. But the woods are already bleeding fearsome and you said the same thing about Friar Baldry last month.”

22.    “Every night he’s screaming about owls! Owls this, owls that! Owls he says are taking him out of bed at night and poking him in the bum with silver tools.” “Well that’s…why’d you marry him again?” “I thought he’d be dead by now, honestly.”

23.    “Damn barrowbogey stole my father’s urn and gave all my boys a fever.” “That’s bold of them. You going to kill’em?” “For my boys, sure. But let them contend with that cantankerous old bastard now.” “Father still haunting you then?” “Well, not anymore.”

24.    “I saw old Dewidort up on that road that night, gave me a fearful fright.” “Dewidort’s a folktale,  a dead old birk of little consequence.” “Dead as yesterday, ‘e was. But standing all the same” “How much have you had to drink?”

25.    “Greydobe installed a new safe.” “Castle Brackenwold?” “Nah, he was carting it north. Lovely box, silver and gold. Hard to imagine what’ll go in it.” “Duke Lucien know?” “I figure he must.” “Well, that’s not gonna end well.”

26.    “The ruined abbey should really be refurbished at some point.” “Or we could build a new one.” “That’s damn wasteful. The abbey has history.” “The abbey is haunted and a den of thieves and witches.” “Oh ye of little faith and great idiocy.”

27.    “Philontimus was holding council with moss dwarfs, trying to learn how to talk to mushrooms or something.” “So glad our tithing goes to pay a lunatic out of Odd to speak with dirt and spores.” “I doubt they’d have much to say.” “The dwarfs or the fungus?” “Probably both. Whole thing stinks to high heavens.”

28.    “I hear the Watchers are plotting a coup against Hogwarsh.” “Well, at least they’ll be out of the forest for a bit. Seen me some of their womenfolk. I’m fixing to court one.” “That seems like a bad idea.” “Why?” “Probably watching you right now. Fixing to turn you into a newt.”

29.    “Spathewhat’s been acting strange.” “Didn’t you get a wedding band from there?” “Yeah.Ring’s been acting strange too. Glows a little at night. The spouse loves it, though they’re acting awful cruel about it.” “That why you here alone?”

30. “…So I told him to take the Runny-Root Challenge.” “Oh no.” “Oh yes. Shantywood, Oaf in the Oast, the Crimson Bath, the Jaunty Horn, and the Mannish Miser.” “Poor lad’s going to be dead by the end of it.” “Or his root will run-off. It’s what he gets for laying his oats about town.” “And he agreed to this?” “Only way I’ll take him back, I said, and the lecherous twit believed me.”