Sunday 19 May 2013

Kalwen



Let's talk about Kalwen. Oh wait you aren't me and have no fucking idea about the layout of my world. Now look upon an abstract and very shitty map.
Fuck you I'm AWESOME at cartography
NOW KINDA DEFUNCT

So Kalwen borders the Tyborian Kingdoms and is the Not-Wales/Scotland/Ireland/Brittany to Tybor's Not-England/Normandy/Frankish Empire. It's also these things:
...kinds


...Both...
  • Salamanders...
  •  A touch of Slavic mythology
  • Volcanoes
  • Skyrim. 
  • The Hojo Faction from Total War: Shogun 2
  • Alchemy GREEK FIRE
  • NOT the Fire Nation despite being a nation of people for whom fire is a big deal
  • This awesome statue/goddess it represents

 A personal appeal: 

RED - these are your people and you are indirectly responsible for the insomnia that has lead me to be awake at 2:30 and typing this. I think you should do the only decent thing and read all this boring crap for backstory. Backstory and revenge. 

So as a people the Kalwennians are fair skinned, a little short and typically either red or black haired, with dark hair being more prevalent the further west/south-west you get. Some are born with a crazy head of tortoiseshell black and red hair kinda like Rufio from Hook but less 90s. These people are said to be fated for great things, typically becoming great sorcerers or warlords. 

They live in and around a range of mountains called the Nestrafells as you can tell from my fricken' awesome map. It's a fairly secluded place. Behind the Nestrafells are a lot of big open barrenness which eventually turns into Khalad and to the east it's forest owned by the Tyborian kings and probably a bunch of crazy cannibal elves because there's ALWAYS a bunch of crazy cannibal elves. ALWAYS. A lot of the mountains are volcanic, which means two things: the Kalwennians have a bunch of very fertile terrace farms and secondly, fire is a pretty big fucking deal for them. Cos. You know. They live on top of a bunch of it.

It's time for a brief history lesson that literally only I care about but fuck you if I wasn't a deranged nerd I wouldn't be playing this crazy nerd game and writing about it. Consult the World's Best Map. Once the ancestors of the Kalwennians inhabited all that northern part of Tybor above Ainland. Then the Ainish who would go on to become the Tyborians rocked up on their big fucking horses and started killing people. So the proto-Kalwennians ran to the mountains. LEGEND TIME.

But they were not safe in the mountains either, for it was the realm of the great fire-serpents (dragons get called a bunch of shit) who were even more dangerous then the Ainish. And lo there was much strife for the People, because they managed to piss off ancient fire-beasts as well as crazy horse-riding psychopaths. 

Okay I'm gonna try and get more story-teller now. 

The People sought to appease the dragons with offerings. First with their captured enemies and war-slaves, then with their livestock, their cows and sheep, finally they bargained for peace with the blood of their children, and much woe was theirs. 

But among them was a maid named Nia who was the most beautiful woman in the world. For fear of the prying eyes of her many suitors she ventured high up into the mountains to hidden hotsprings to bathe. Yet she was watched by Naidr, Prince of the Dragons, who turned himself into a serpent no longer then a stick and would watch her from the rocks. In time he came to love bright Nia and so went before the elders of her race to ask for her hand.

In the first Naidr came before them as a goatherd, humble but honest and asked for her hand, yet the elders scorned him and turned him away. 

Then Naidr came before them as a young warrior, brave and noble, but without lands nor a place in the world. The elders scorned him again. 

Then Naidr came before them in all his finery and fury, as his true shape, the Great Prince of all the Mountain Dragons and asked for her hand, and the elders where fearful and offered them their fairest daughter without a second thought. 

So Nia was sent off to Naidr's fiery mountain lair, where surely, everyone thought, she would be devoured. But Naidr loved her truly, and wore the shape of a handsome young prince and gave Nia the life of a Princess. His cave all set about with ancient treasure was as fine a palace as any in the world and Nia was waited upon by Naidr's servants the firesprites. In time Nia came to bear Naidr's children, sons and daughters, and Naidr declared that there should be peace between the People and the Mountain-Dragons. Many Mountain Dragons chose husbands and wives from among the people then and had sons and daughters of their own, bold, fierce and proud. And so was the nation of Kalwen born, a nation of dragons and men.

But the men looked upon the dragons and forgot their fear and grew jealous of their power and their treasure hordes. So they hatched a plan. Nia's father called upon his grandchildren and told them each in turn to steal into their father's lair and steal the secret of his fire. In turn each refused to betray their father and in turn each was beaten and threatened until they would say no more until the youngest child, Tori who's tongue was forked, agreed, for she feared her grandfather's heavy hand and so betrayed her father. Tori stole away the secret of Naidr's fire and gave it to the men. 

In time a feud broke out between dragon and man once more, yet this time man had fire of his own, and the dragons were few in number. Many great dragons were slain, and when they died their bodies became as mountains and their blood the fire under the earth. Finally in grief and rage great Naidr was slain. 

And the people of Kalwen looked about and saw there were no dragons left, and Kalwen was but a nation of men who's hubris and greed had destroyed the power they had in their blood-kin. 

And Nia turned to them and said "Look at what you have done now! You have destroyed our hope and now we are all that is left to carry the Fire! We must defend it's secrets now for all time if there is to be any hope left for us!" and then she turned to her daughter Tori who had betrayed her father and doomed her race and said "Now girl who has destroyed us be remade. Let your beauty be unlooked upon and let the corpse of every serpent you have seen slain weigh always on your head." And so Tori's hair became as a nest of writhing snakes, and any who gazed upon her was turned to stone so her beauty would go unsung. 

Then Nia, who was the Mother of the People, Princess of Dragons, stepped into the Fire and was never seen again. 

BLAM. LEGENDS. Got an origin for the medusa in there and everything. In my D&D world I tend to play my legends and myths and being pretty much how they are in our world, fanciful stories based on a few nuggets of truth. But because this is D&D those nuggets tend to be pretty fucking big, what with dragons being an actual thing and all. 

But that's the origin story the Kalwennians believe in and it's a big deal in their culture. The Fire, as mentioned, is a lot of things. Firstly it's a spiritual metaphor for the lifeblood of the land, the energies that bind all life and the inherent dynamism and passion the Kalwennian people are said (by themselves) to possess. It's also what their magic basically revolves around, not just a straight up form of sorcererous fireball shit but also a more subtle form of alchemy involving the use of firesprites (salamanders). This allows them to create a variety of weapons like firebombs, occasionally flung by big ass magonels, as handheld fire siphons that basically blast greek fire everywhere. It's brutal. It also allows them to transmute base metals into gold, which seems like a pretty good deal for them because Kalwen has an awful lot of tin and coal but not much gold. Unfortunately the transmutation process requires some gold to start it off, which they trade with other nations for. Understandably they guard their secret cultural ability to double their wealth fiercely. 

Whilst a general understanding of the ways of the Fire, both the spiritual side and the magical is common to all Kalwennians the actual workings and processes are steeped in mystery the details of which are known only to the priesthood, who are almost professional secret keepers. In practise most Kalwennians make oaths, curses and offerings to Naidr and Nia, spiritual father and mother of their race.

 By and large their society is arranged along the lines of clan and family. It's all connected by bloodties and society isn't all that stratified, just broadly somewhere there's a big man at the top of the pile, who is someones elder brother and someone elses grandfather who gets to be carried around on top the the shield. Kalwen isn't a unified nation, which is a blessing for the Tyborian Kingdoms on the borderlands because otherwise they'd get hammered. There's a lot of bad blood between the clans and a lot of infighting on every scale, from the very small scuffles to full scale warfare. 
Seriously you're posting pictures of fucking terrace farms what is your life?

Typically a clan will be spread across a cluster of walled towns and villages. The people build from stone and turf more often then they do wood. Just outside these walled settlements will be a bunch of terrace farms.

Some larger clans, usually the ones who serve as official benefactors and protectors to the mystery cults that produce all the gold and angry fiery death weapons, build up into larger fortress-cities and become more organised, the head of the clan taking the title of Prince and declaring sovereignty over everyone he can. However so turbulent is the political climate Prince's and well defined princedoms seldom last long. 

The Kalwennians are excellent stone masons and builders given appropriate resources, and their cities are quite beautiful when they aren't being besieged and sacked by one faction or another. I imagine something between Ancient Greece and Incan style buildings. They like hanging baskets with wild flowers in particular and most citizens are possessed of a degree of civic pride unseen in other parts of the world. They literally don't take any of that shit. There's an appropriate receptacle for that shit and we will not tolerate that shit's presence on our good streets thank you sir!

Outside of the realms of clans and princes you get the opportunistic warlords amassing warbands of young warriors, grim mercenary types and unprincipled rogues. These wolfish warlords tend to carve out their own princedoms when they aren't raiding across the border and generally pissing folk off with all their indiscriminate pillaging. 

Unsurpringly Kalwennians like reds and oranges in their clothes, because of the fire thing. They probably wear it to about the same extent the Massai people do. In fact think like a combination of Massai dress and that of the Romano-British/Generic Dark Ages guy. A lot of sheepskin probably as well. 

Sheep, by virtue of being pretty chill about being farmed whilst at the top of a mountain, are common in Kalwen. A man's wealth is probably measured in his flock before it is in gold. There is a strong tradition of sheep rustling that is the cause of many-a blood feud. That and kidnapping of other peoples wives and daughters.

The Kalwennians are a passionate people and are enthusiastic artists, with strong traditions of bardic poetry and song running through the country. Kalwennians are also said to be among the best jewellers in the world, if a little too into draconic iconography. 

How into their dragon iconography are the Kalwens? Let's take a look at a Kalwennian warrior. This guy would be pretty wealthy and powerful, how else would he afford all this neat dragon shit?

His armour is probably imported, but Kalwennians favour scalemail over chain, but your average fighter wears little more then boiled leather. On his head he will wear a helmet that will either be shaped like a dragon or have a statue of a dragon as a crest.

Some really enthusiastic guys wear skirts made of chain serpents.

His shield will be round and probably have a dragon on it, or the boss will be shaped like a dragons head. Or both. Do not be surprised if their gauntlets end in small stylised claws, both for punching... you know... dragons. However, many Kalwennian warriors forgo the shield preferring to fight with a longspear or a glaive in two hands.

The close quaters weapon of the Kalwennian fighter is a single edged curved cutting sword something like the Greek falcata (look it up I've posted enough lame pictures as it is). It's the kind of thing that you use to take limbs off with in a very un-PG-13 way. The hilt is probably dragon shaped. If they don't have a sword they might have a flail with and end shaped like the barbed tip of a dragons tail. They have thus far been unable to figure out a way to make any considerable dragonifications to the spears, but the odd glaive head has been shaped like a jet of flame coming out of a dragons mouth, but this is rarely done twice, as it result in a very heavy and unwieldy weapon and is one of the few times the Kalwennian warrior has tried to put a dragon on a thing only to realise it's dumb and then stopped doing it.

The Kalwennians like most nations in my world carry on the Japanese practise of wearing small banners strapped to the back. Sashimono, wikipedia now tells me. Back banners. Whilst anything particularly audacious is impractical for massed combat some Kalwennian warriors when fighting in duels and honour battles will wear a particularly large double back banner hung about with colourful pennants and streamers. The effect is to get mimic wings. 

Fortunately for every 20 Kalwennian fighters only one is rich and fancy enough to go full-dragon. Most will be lucky if they even have enough wealth and fanciosty to go half-dragon. This is good because whilst one dude dressed like a fucking man-dragon is pretty impressive a whole bunch of them would look dumb and overwrought. 

I think that's it for now. Kalwen. If I think of anything more I shall update once more.


Saturday 18 May 2013

And then Billy ripped off HP Lovecraft...




Much has been written about Jezirat of Kemet, the mad priest and explorer, but the lengthy volumes and histories pale against the scale and depth of his own writings. There are orders of scholars and academics who have dedicated their professional lives to decoding the double riddle that is the writings and the life of the enigmatic adventurer. 

Firstly piecing together the life of Jezirat is nearly impossible. Jezirat's writings document events covering a span of time stretching back almost two thousand years to apparently only decades before the current date. Leading theorists suggest that Jezirat was simply a very powerful prophet gifted with both disturbingly accurate fore and hindsight. Others have suggested that "Jezirat" is not simply one man but an order of scholars dating back through the millennia utilizing the same idioms, script and coding, however both of these ideas are rejected by those who consider external accounts of Jezirat's activities as true, as these span a similar period of time and include no less than eight accounts of Jezirat's execution (three burnings, two hangings, two beheadings and one blood eagle).
It has been suggested by the scholar Ziphus Vachochilde of Tarantion that Jezirat was (or perhaps is) in fact a vampire, but this theory has been largely rejected by his peers due to a lack of substantial evidence and being "too obvious". 


The texts themselves take the form of a series of scribbled notes, scrolls and journals written in an obscure and highly formal dialect of Old Kemetian. Unfortuantely for the academics attempting to date the man, whilst the dialect is roughly identical to what scholars believe the inhabitants of Kemet spoke two thousand years ago, it is the same dialect used by scholars, nobles and holy men to this day.


An entirely other body of scholarship chooses to simply ignore the impossible life of Jezirat the man in favour of studying his impossible text. Jezirat's subject matter seems to consist of the most comprehensive study of the lands, peoples, animals, gods and customs east of Khalad. Invariably historical accounts creep in as well, though Jezirat seemed to have little interest in the comings and goings of kings and armies and, to the chagrin of his academic followers, seldom makes note of the dates in his diaries. 

Jezirat's texts are problematic however in terms of their content. Whilst it is nearly impossible to order then with an exact chronology it is also very difficult to order them by content, as Jezirat, being mad, seemed to have a habit of writing about one matter before moving on to something entirely different, occasionally mid-paragraph, before returning to the earlier matter several pages later. Often these non-sequetuers are nothing more but semi-coherent ramblings and ravings. 

The generally accepted method for dealing with this problem is to focus upon one specific field of Jezirat's writings and collaborate within the community to try and construct a larger understanding. For example, one scholar might focus entirely on Jezirat's theological observations whilst collaborating with a scholar of Jeziratine anthropology.

There are numerous translations and compilations of Jezirat's notes in publication each dealing with innumerable Jezirat fields but perhaps the best known and most comprehensive of these is a zoological text concerning various exotic fauna encountered by Jezirat on his travels. The volume is the disappointingly entitled A Compendium of the Monstrous, Fiendish and Other Beasts, by the renowned naturalist Vixterian of Atenople, lately executed for heresy. Jezirat's actual observations are heavily supplemented by Vixterian's own findings and was recently republished in the Seven Cities in a new edition with illustrations by Lady Hypernia Audoinchilde. It is very popular. So popular it has caused a rift in the... fucking... FUCK THIS FUCK YOU 4TH WALL I'm gonna be sticking a bunch of my reinterpretations of monsters and stuff up here. I've been going through the Monstrous Manuel and the Fiend Folio alphabetically and getting people to pick monsters. Sometimes I get an easy one, sometimes I get a dumb one which I then have to make work and fit into my world. I'm most proud thus far of my Al'Miraj. Currently I'm on C is for Chimera but exams and big cats being really hard to draw have slowed me down. I'm not a very good drawerer generally but it's fun. ANYWAY back in character aaaaaaaaaaannddddd..... and thanks to this and Jezirat's writings on the nature of the Other, Below and Beyond have earned him the badge of Heretic First Class in Pellix and only high ranking members of the clergy are allowed to even touch his work.

Thursday 16 May 2013

Ghost Knives

If you are currently playing in one of my games, which, if you're reading this, you probably are, DON'T READ THIS. You'll be spoiling shit for yourself. I realise that's not going to be much of a deterrent. There are those who will make it there business to discover my secrets just because they're secret. Looking at you Red. Looking at you.













GHOST KNIFE - a savage bone long-knife. Vicious weapons that hunt hearts and cut throats with a semi-sentient ferocity. These weapons derive their power from the souls of the creatures the knife slays.


CRUNCH: Effectively a magical dagger with a variable attack and damage bonus and an expanded crit-range.
The bonus starts at 0. It increases every time the knife takes an innocent (non-combatants typically, children, anyone you wouldn't get xp for) life.
At first the bonuses increase with every 3 lives.
When the bonus reaches +3 it will only increase again with every 7 lives.
The crit-range is 19-20.
When the bonus reaches +7 it will only increase again with every 9 lives.
The crit-range is 18-20.
When the bonus reaches +9 (crit-range 17-20) it will no longer increase, but it requires a new life every 9 weeks or the bonuses begin to decrease. If the weapons bonuses ever reach 0 again, the next fumbled attack roll will take the life of its master.

The crafting of a Ghost Knife requires a fragment of the crafter's soul. Anyone coming into possession of an existing Ghost Knife will accidentally cut themselves with it, thus binding their soul to the weapon. As long as the Ghost Knife has a piece of the wielder's soul they will be unable to part from it. No saves, no checks, no outsmarting me, it's from first blood to till death do you part. End of.

Though the nature of their crafting means the typical Ghost Knife is made from bone, it is said that in the ancient days of elven rule mighty weapons, swords and spears were fashioned with the same soul-hungry properties of the Ghost Knife. None have been discovered thus far though and so it seems likely that such dangerous and vile weapons have long hence been lost to time.

If you are a WINTERBORN ELF and you rolled Ghost Knife on the thing, either by tradition or by the whisperings of the demons of the North Wind, you know how to craft a Ghost Knife.

This is how you craft a Ghost Knife.

On a moonless night seek a family with a young child. They must invite you into their home and must give you their hospitality for a full month.

Over this month you must destroy every living thing on the property, either via cunning assassinations or by a single orgy of slaughter. Spare the youngest child.

You must dismember the inhabitants and arrange them in a sacred circle by the time the moonless night comes again. Fashion the knife from the bones of the head of the household.

Then, on the moonless night, take the youngest child up to the centre of the corpse circle. Cut yourself with the knife and anoint the child, forehead, cheeks, stomach and chest with your blood.

Slice the child apart, groin to throat.

You now have a ghost knife you sick depraved bastard. I hope it was fucking worth it.