Čert

While watching the many folk and fairy tales that are on the TV during the Christmas holidays, I realized that Czech take on Hell and its inhabitants is perhaps a bit unusual. In pretty much every story, the devils (or rather čerti, singular čert) and Hell are displayed in a positive light.

Čerti are not malicious, true evil is always found among humans. Čerti might be lazy, bureaucratic and ineffectual, but in the end they are there to punish and take away the sinners, thus leaving Earth a bit better off than before. Interestingly, angels, Heaven and God appear very rarely, and justice is generally served because čerti and good humans cooperate against evil humans. The mills of God Hell grind slowly but surely.
 

A čert coming out of the oven to get you!

 
Three main types of čerti appear in the folk tales:

The trickster čert is charming and the most diabolic, tempting people to sell their soul for money, power or magic. However, he likes and oftentimes ends up helping good people who defy him, even borrowing them magic items or coming to their aid. He will employ his human friends to get at sinners who protect themselves from Hell with holy ground or other magic. He will always have a contract for one's soul ready, to be signed in blood.

The punch-clock čert is ugly and dirty, but scary only because it's his job. He will try to frighten you, but if that fails, he will probably offer you a roast and a beer, then complain about how boring the job is, or hellish wages, or some such. He's very likely to be fooled and trapped by some evil human, who than uses stolen hellish magic to commit actually evil deeds. In that case, the čert will need to be saved by the human protagonist.

The clueless, young čert is either the protagonist, or his (soon to be) friend. He's really not good at this devilish stuff, and one of his blunders will probably strand him on Earth until he can recover a lost magic item / find a fugitive sinner / otherwise make up for his mistakes. He also tends to fall in love, which generally ends up in a wedding (becoming human optional).

When Lucifer, the King of Hell himself, appears, he ranges from being a wise mentor to the protagonist, to a strict and grumpy, but still fair and just ruler. He always comes off as nearly a saint in comparison to the corrupt, lazy, spiteful and outright cruel nobles on Earth. He will grant a wish (or three wishes) as compensation to innocents dragged to Hell by mistake (caused by the young čert above).
 

Lucifer in attendance on human wedding.

Every čert

• is male. Female čertice are very rare.
• has horns. These grow with age and power, so a young and weak čert will have tiny horns, while an older čert will have much bigger goat's or ram's horns.
• may have a hoof instead of one foot, or a tail. This is not always the case, though, so let's say 1-in-6 chance of each.
• spits brimstone, which can start fires.
• is immortal and immune to fire.
• is repelled or even burned by anything holy.
• cannot harm an innocent person.

d6 Hellish Powers

1. Human disguise: Loose the horns, hoof and tail, plus change from any demonic garb into a commoner's clothes (weak čert), huntsman or soldier uniform (trickster čert), or a noble attire (powerful čert). Also removes the soot and smell of brimstone.
2. Animal form: Transform into a black (d6) dog/cat/goat/horse/crow/rooster.
3. Hell portal: Teleport between Hell and Earth with a cloud of smoke and brimstone. Most čerti can only do this when they drag a soul to Hell, but Lucifer and his trusted lieutenants can pop anywhere at will.
4. Pyrokinesis: The more powerful the čert, the hotter the flames.
   
5. Telekinesis: Only the most powerful čerti.
   
6. Wish: Can grant wealth or build palaces to humans who sign away their soul in blood. Only Lucifer can grant wishes without getting a soul in return.
   

d8 Gifts from Hell

1. Cloak of invisibility: As any other cloak of invisibility, but doesn't work when wet and burns up when touched by holy water.
2. Tablecloth of wine and dine: When you unfold it, conjures a magnificent feast.
3. Sack of soldiers: Open to summon a squad of damned soldiers that will be loyal to whomever holds the sack. Treat as normal HD 1 soldiers, except they have Morale 12 (if they run, they go back to Hell; if they die, they go back to Hell) and disappear in flames when killed.
4. Bag of many items: Take out any item you can think of and that could fit inside of the bag. Each item taken is a sin.
5. Coat of gold: A dirty, threadbare overcoat. When you reach into a pocket, you always find a gold coin. However, no amount of grooming can make you presentable (-4 Charisma, -4 to Reaction rolls) and the coat disappears if you ever take it off.
6. Seven league boots
7. Scarf of fire resistance
8. Posh needle: Knits the most beautiful attire you can imagine out of thin air, but the clothes become ash when touched by sunlight.

 
All of these were given to the protagonist of one fairy tale or another.
 

Sinners in cages and boiling in cauldrons.

 
Here are several films that should give you a taste of čerti and their Hell:

• Anděl páně (Angel of the Lord): A čert tempts his angel buddy to fall, then does his best to get him back to Heaven. Available on Netflix.
• Čertí brko (The Magic Quill): Quite anvilicious, but has very nice depiction of bureaucratic Hell. Available on Netflix.
• Nejlepší přítel (Best Friend): This one actually inspired the post. Available here, but without subtitles.
• Princezna ze mlejna (Princess from the Mill): Your friendly neighbourhood čert. Available on Netflix.
• S čerty nejsou žerty (Give the Devil His Due): Basically a cult classic around here. Available here, but without subtitles.
• Z pekla štěstí (Devil's Own Luck): How being friendly with Hell can help you slay a dragon. Available here, but without subtitles.

So maybe the next time your players run into devils, these might be well-meaning collectors of evil souls, or good-natured spooks just doing their job.

d100 Checks against 3d6 Stats

1
I like d100 rolls, even though I mostly ever play with d20 systems. You encounter percentages every day in your life and thus can gauge your chances at a glance, while a d20 roll can be trickier. I mean, what's easier to immediately grasp - a plain d20 against DC 16, or a percentage roll against 25% odds?

Then you add bonuses to the mix

• Roll against DC 17 with +3 bonus.
• Roll against base 65% skill with -30% difficulty adjustment.

and d100 is much easier to understand.

2
I like 3d6 stats, probably because I mostly ever play with d20 systems. They are so deeply ingrained in my mind that when I see something like Strength 58%, I just don't know what to do with that. It doesn't look right, I want my attributes in the 3-18 range. And yes, that is nothing but personal preference, but so is any other discussion of a gaming system.

3
I like attribute checks. Skill systems and all are great, but what if you suddenly get a corner case that doesn't fit under any of your carefully defined skills and you don't want to pluck a DC out of the thin air? Plus you can use them in place of specialized Saves, where they make a lot of sense - rather than some nebulously defined Save vs Magical Devices, roll against Dexterity to dodge the ray, or against Endurance to tank it.
 

 
And here's the conundrum - how to make my flights of fancy fit together into a coherent system? They are pretty disparate bunch, after all. Yet I might have a possible solution (aside from telling myself to go and do something more productive).

Use your normal 3d6 attributes, but when you wish to attempt a stat check, multiply the attribute score by a number corresponding to the difficulty of the task from the table below. This gives you a percentage chance of your success, and also gets rid of any further adjustments, as they should already be taken into consideration when deciding the difficulty.

We are still somewhat "plucking a DC out of the thin air", but I believe it's easier to say that a task is challenging than coming up with a DC 14 to beat. So guesstimate the difficulty, multiply the attribute and you have a percentage chance of your success:
 

Difficulty	Multiplier	With 8 in Stat	With Average Stat	With 16 in Stat
Easy	x7	56%	73.5%	112%
Normal	x5	40%	52.5%	80%
Challenging	x4	32%	42%	64%
Hard	x3	24%	31.5%	48%
Heroic	x1	8%	10.5%	16%

 
Easy: An average person can do this reliably and somebody skilled shouldn't even need to roll in the first place.

Normal: A toss-up for normal people.

Challenging: This is where the inadequate will start to really struggle.

Hard: A toss-up for talented people.

Heroic: This is a d100 roll under the basic attribute score. At the very, very best, you will have a 1-in-5 chance, and that's only with game-breaking stats. An average person can cross their fingers and pray, yet even those truly gifted will most likely fail.

Your average 3d6 attribute will have a score of 10.5, so a normal task will have a 52.5% chance of success. I can live with that little extra bonus over equal odds.
  

by Mateusz Mańka

Q: Hey, you claimed this will be easy and intuitive, then suddenly you want us to solve math?!

A: Well yes, but it's simple math!

Q: Aren't the chances a little low? For an average character, a normal task is 50/50 and an easy task has just under 75% chance of success?

A: Let's take for example Lamentations of the Flame Princess for comparison, shall we? A 1st level Fighter will have +1 to hit, and attacking an unarmoured opponent (AC 12) should be a normal task for them. They will have exactly 50% chance of a successful hit, so I'd say my percentages are not that far off.

Funny how the chances don't look so good, yet nobody bats an eye to roll a d20 against such odds.

Class: (Un)limited Warlock

Years ago, I read a book about a demon and a wizard. I remember neither the name of the book nor anything but bits and pieces from the plot - the demon was trying to corrupt a young girl who could one day become a great force for either good or evil, the wizard was sent to stop the demon - but the way that magic worked for the wizard stuck with me.

The wizard wasn't an innate magic user, all of his magic was given to him and what he was given was everything he had. Several times throughout the book, he ended up in a situation where he really needed a spell, only for a flashback to reveal he had already used up that spell, years ago. Other times, he performed magic even though there was another way, and then a flashforward had shown us what kind of trouble this will bring to him in the future.

He had loads of power, but it was a finite, non-renewable resource.
 

Summoning Demons by Lukas Banas

 
Which brings me to the (un)limited warlocks.

Magic users tend to start weak, barely capable of casting a handful of cantrips each day, but then their power grows exponentially. Depending on your system, high level wizards might end up creating their own planes of existence and summoning dragons or angels to do their bidding, each and every day. But what if we turned this around?

Suppose that warlocks are given all their power by a patron. And by "all their power" I mean all of it - they get access to the whole spell list at level 1. However, they only get to cast each spell once, ever.

• In Vancian system, they have no spell slots and no spell level limit. Yes, they can use wish immediately at the start of the game.
• In GLOG, they have infinite MD and can put as many MD into a spell as they want (mishaps and dooms still apply).
• In mana point systems - well, I don't really have experience with those...

Your warlock player might absolutely obliterate the first boss with a single fireball - and that will also be the only fireball they will ever cast. They might trivialize the first set of obstacles - but what about the second one, or the third?

The (un)limited warlocks are all about self-restraint and adaptation to growing limitations. They start overpowered and grow weaker with each spell they cast and mark off their list. Soon, they will have to get creative, because they ran out of spells that would fully fit the situation. They will have to resort to the weird spells nobody bothers to take on most magic users. Even cantrips will become a scant resource.

And once their last spell is cast and gone, their pact will be due and their patron will collect their soul for purposes unknown. No save.

Is that balanced? Hell no!

Isn't that overpowered? Of course it is!

Is it playtested? Not at all.

Would it be fun? You tell me!

A patron and their warlock.
From Dark Souls 3

 
Oh, and if the player wants to get all clever with multiclassing into another magic user or learning new spells - that's a no go, friend. Your patron is keeping a very close eye on you and they will protect their investments with a vengeance, if necessary. After all, they already own your soul and can repossess it in case of your early death. It was only the contract you decided to breach that was preventing your sudden demise.

Into the... Spire?

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"What-" Eli and Sharaf spoke up in the same instant.

"Later, later," Mr. Kipfel interrupted them both. As his eyes darted over them, Eli realized she had already seen this exact same expression on his face before, when he had been talking to the djinni.

"Is everything alright?" he asked their jailer.

The armoured jailer grabbed his helmet and took it off. He was black-skinned, bald-shaven and quite young-looking, maybe even close to Eli in age.

"Mostly? There was an activation alert earlier today. Tracker and Dreamwalker went to investigate, came back with some captives for interrogation. I've only heard rumours, but they might've found traces of nanotech. Real, functioning nanotech."

"Really?"

"As I said, I've only heard rumours. But it could actually help you. Most masters are in a meeting with the grandmaster right now, all gathered in the sanctum."

"And the security is on high alert, I presume."

"Thankfully no, there were no omens of imminent danger, so current orders are to prepare several squads to return through the newly activated Gateway and make a thorough sweep of the whole area. You shouldn't dawdle, though. The meeting will probably end soon and the grandmaster might want to lead this mission himself. I also relieved the guard here, so you should be clear at least to the lift."

"What's going on," Sharaf said. "Is he friendly? What is he saying?"

Eli saw confusion spreading over the jailer's face before Mr. Kipfel stepped in: "We really shouldn't dawdle, then. The containment fields, please?"

"Yes," the jailer reached into a pouch on his belt for a card embellished with gold. "This card will get you into the sanctum. Master Arinrin Ajo is currently deep in trance, so she shouldn't find out I stole it and have it blocked, but somebody will notice that the cell fields were deactivated and they will raise alarm, probably sooner rather than later. Nothing I can do about that, so you'd better get moving as soon as I let you out. Ready?"

"Ready as ever," Mr. Kipfel smiled and Eli managed a stern nod when the jailer glanced her way.

He swept the card through a reader at a wall-mounted control panel and the force screens sealing their cells flickered off. Mr. Kipfel confidently strode out of his cell and Sharaf followed close behind, though bemusement was showing on his face. Eli was a bit slower in crossing the boundary of her cell, then unwittingly quickened her pace as she was passing by the jailer. The heavy door slid open as they approached, letting them out into the empty and peaceful hallway.

"Hey," the jailer called out, "the card!"

"Indeed," Mr. Kipfel turned around and snatched it from his hand with a smile. "Thank you."

He glanced down the hall both ways and after a split second of wavering deliberation, went left.

"No," the jailer said, doubt creeping its way into his voice, "the other way."

They did as he told them, but haven't made it more than three steps before the jailer caught up with them.

"Wait a second," he reached out, but let his arm flop back when they stopped. "Do you know what you're doing? I mean, are the implants... Are you sure?"

He sounded very much unsure, himself.

Mr. Kipfel looked him straight in the eye, his voice dead serious. "Of course we are. We wouldn't be here if there was any doubt in our minds. We know what we must do. But you too have a part to play, still. You do know that you have to see your role in this to the very end, right?"

The jailer's face turned grim but purposeful. "Yes, yes I do. You are right and... thank you. I will have the distraction ready in five minutes."

He hesitated, as if there was much more he wanted to let out, but then he turned to go. "I will see you in Heaven. For freedom!"

"For freedom indeed," Mr. Kipfel replied already to his back.

The second the three of them were out of sight, behind a bend in the corridor where the lift was, Sharaf grabbed Mr. Kipfel and pushed him against the wall.

"An explanation would be appropriate right about now," he said.

"Our jailer released us and gave me this access card that should open all the doors that we need opened, apparently," Mr. Kipfel replied in a jovial tone.

"Why did he release us? What kind of a game are you playing here?"

"No game at all," Mr. Kipfel still smiled.

Sharaf was now gripping Mr. Kipfel's coat, until Eli laid her hand on his fist. He glanced her way and let go, stepping back from Mr. Kipfel but still shooting angry glares.

Eli had to swallow first before being able to speak up: "We shouldn't stop moving, if you know where to?" She looked at Mr. Kipfel.

"No, not really. No."

That took both her and Sharaf by surprise. "No?"

"But you are right that we have to keep moving if we want to get away from here, and even though I don't have the faintest idea who that likeable young man was, he provided us with the means for our escape. I suggest we take the lift to the basement and find a back door, preferably unguarded."

Sharaf glowered as Mr. Kipfel leaned to insert the card into a reader by the lift door.

"Who are you?"

Behind them, the young jailer was back. This time, though, he was holding his rifle aimed at them.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Kipfel said, sounding aghast. "You would betray your brothers? Didn't we all swear to fight together and if need be even die together, for freedom? And when we're this close, when everything is going according to the plan, you turn against us?!"

Disappointment was practically dripping from his words and he shook his head, never breaking eye contact with the jailer.

"Stop. You are not... You are not one of mine. I've heard you. You were arguing in some weird language, you were fighting. So who are you and where are my people?"

"I don't know what you think you heard, but-"

"Don't," the jailer practically growled and advanced at Mr. Kipfel, who was quick to back off. "Stop lying. You are the off-world captives, aren't you?"

"There's no need to point the rifle at me," Mr. Kipfel said, "I can assure you that-"

"One more lie or blather and I will shoot you," the jailer took another threatening step forward. "Do you even know what you did? If I can't get to my brothers in time, if someone raises an alarm too soon because of you... We all would first take our own life than be subjected to probing, but they will still find the gas bladders during autopsy. They will adjust security, have full-body scans or countermeasures... The others will have to start from scratch. This all will have been in vain!" He sounded as if he was at the very brink of a meltdown.

But he put himself within an arm's reach of Sharaf.

Sharaf leaped forward, knocking the rifle aside. The jailer wasn't fast enough to dodge, but he still reflexively pulled the trigger. Eli felt a blast of heat miss her as a glob of white-hot plasma struck the nearby wall of matte glass, shattering it. Sharp tiny shards flew everywhere.

The jailer lost his gun as Sharaf slammed him through the new hole, into a room with nothing but a few racks of electronics. Some of them seemed damaged by the shot, melted or sparkling, and the whole hall was quickly filling with the acrid smell and smoke of burning plastic. A fire alarm went off.

Eli stared at the rifle lying at her feet. It didn't look that different from any assault rifle you would see in a film. Black, rather boxy but lean, with no blinking lights or glowy parts. Not that she was an expert on any guns, let alone sci-fi ones. She never held a firearm in her whole life so far, and she could've gone without it and be no less happy.

She made herself bend down and pick the rifle up. It was surprisingly heavy.

The jailer, though shaken, managed to break Sharaf's grip and get a few good hits in. It was quickly becoming apparent that Sharaf cannot win this in a straight fight. Both were good in a scuffle, but with his body armour, the jailer could shrug off attacks that made Sharaf grunt in pain. He was forcing Sharaf to fall back, pressing him into the damaged racks.

A larger flood of electric sparks made Sharaf flinch and the jailer's hook got through, driving Sharaf even further off-balance. He failed to block the next knee to the guts, and his defense started to crack after blow after blow after blow. The jailer pounded him into the ground, then turned, bleeding from the nose and many a scrape, panting heavily, face scrunched into a violent grimace.

"Stay back," Eli faltered. The gun was clumsy in her hands and she didn't want to point it at anyone, though she tried.

"My brothers will die a useless, pointless death because of you," the jailer said, glass crunching underfoot.

"It doesn't need to end that way," Mr. Kipfel soothed, "We can help you if you help us."

He crumpled when the jailer punched him.

"Stay back!" Eli repeated as he was already just a stride away. He didn't seem to pay any attention to the rifle in her hands and she knew she wouldn't shoot.

He never touched her.

From behind, an arm slipped under his chin and hauled him down. He struggled, but Sharaf had him on the ground in a sleeper hold. His eyes eventually closed.

"Really glad he didn't put his helmet back on," Sharaf rasped. He pushed the jailer off and stood up, much more slowly than he normally would.

"That was very unpleasant and painful," Mr. Kipfel dusted himself off.

"Are you alright?" Sharaf limped to Eli. His lip was split and a thin trail of blood traced its way from his left ear to his chin.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I should've... I could've..."

"You did good," Sharaf cut her off.

"We all did good," Mr. Kipfel chimed in, "great even!"

Sharaf ignored him, still focusing on Eli. "We need to move, okay? He will be waking up any second and it's a little miracle that this alarm hadn't brought an army on our heads yet."

Eli nodded and glanced at the rifle in her arms.

"Yeah, I will take that," Sharaf smiled.

Mr. Kipfel had already swiped the card to call the elevator, but he stood to the side of the door, and Sharaf did the same on the opposite side. With a soft ding, the door opened and Sharaf barged in, rifle at ready.

"Great God," he muttered.

The cabin was empty, made of glass and apparently travelling along the outside of the building. The view was stunning.

They saw an expanse of tiny houses and crooked alleys, incredibly deep below. The streets were teeming with people and carts and animals of all kinds and maybe even a vehicle here and there. The building was a skyscraper dropped into the middle of a fantasy town, a spire of steel and glass rising high enough to touch the clouds. Its long shadow stretched all the way past the city walls and onto the dry savannah that continued towards the mountains on the horizon, covered in jungle and enormous metallic ruins.

The door of the lift closed softly behind them as they were still admiring the sights. Mr. Kipfel regained his composure first and pressed the button for the underground floors. They started downwards, accompanied by a soft, cheery music.

"I think I might have an idea where we are, now," Mr. Kipfel remarked.

"Well?" Sharaf prompted when no further explanation seemed forthcoming.

"It's a bit of a long and boring story, but the important part is that I know for certain that there is a Gateway under this building. I can explain the rest once we're safe and sound back home."

Eli hit the stop button and the lift came to a sudden halt. There was surprisingly little perceptible deceleration, given how fast the cabin was going and haw abruptly it stopped.

"You can explain right now," she snapped. "We were kidnapped by some paramilitary weirdos with plasma guns, not to even mention the djinni and portals and that stuff. We don't have the faintest inkling about what's going on and you suddenly want to act all tight-lipped when it turns out you do know something after all? Hell no!"

"Very well," Mr. Kipfel relented after a brief pensive silence. "There is an ancient prophecy, dating back to the end of the Atlantian war.

 

When the might of the djinn was broken, when the angels have retreated to their endless sleep and the hollow men all but disappeared, what remained of the great circle of magi that led the Atlantian forces rejoiced and celebrated the final end of their enemy. Yet one of their number, a seer unparalleled in all of history, had rebuked them for their revelry. While the enemy was defeated then, she had seen a far future when a new leader of the fallen would arise, who shall awaken the seven choirs and bring back the glory of the Chrome Everlasting. His coming, she said, would be heralded by the rise of a great tower, a tower like none that the world had ever seen."

 

"Are you saying that this is the tower?"

"No, of course not. But this is the citadel of the Knights of the Tower."

"Who are..."

"Who are watching over the Earths ever since Atlantis had sunk, to take down any forgotten remnants of the old war, but mainly to topple the tower, should it ever emerge. Even though it has been millennia and there's no sign that the prophecy would get fulfilled any time soon, if ever," he shrugged.

Eli exchanged a look with Sharaf.

"That didn't help us at all," she said.

"Which is why I claimed we shouldn't waste our time with explanations in the middle of a daring escape," Mr. Kipfel retorted. "Can we please go now?"

"And it does help us in one way," he continued as Sharaf pressed the destination button again. "We can now be certain that we were really lucky to have only run into a mook, as the true master knights are said to be all gifted with-"

Eli felt the air pressure in the cabin shift and something was suddenly right behind her back. She whirled around, but caught only a split-second glimpse of a tall man grabbing Sharaf by the throat before they both vanished into thin air.

 

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