Languages of the Amir Steppes

Here is a conversion of the standard D&D languages to the world of Althan, or more specifically the Amir Steppes in West Althan.

In addition, a new house rule is in effect: You may take an expertise in language, just as you can in any other proficiency. See the expert effects in the table below. Also the Linguist feat now lets you pick an expertise in one language you know.

Any effects that require a saving throw have a

DC = 8 + double proficiency bonus + Charisma modifier

 

d20	Language		Expert Effect	D&D Equivalent
1	Low Imperial	Various dialects of Old Imperial, spread throughout the fallen Aunian Empire. All mutually intelligible, though with many funny accents.	You can speak High Imperial with no accent. High Imperial is the language of imperial nobility, so people will generally assume that you are either a scholar or a noble.	Common
2	Nymbian	Language used in Nymbia, a great southern empire beyond the Trollish Mountains, and also by the southern barbarian tribes.
3	Taalish	Language used in the Thirty-Three Kingdoms.
4	Khazum	Old dwarven language once used in Khelek Dur, the dwarven realm beneath the Trollish Mountains, and now used by the dwarven clans who fled when Khelek Dur was destroyed. Useful as very few non-dwarves can understand it.		Dwarfish
5	Kanish	Language of the ashen elves from the triplet city of Kani. Related to Substratal.		Elvish
6	Trollish	Language used in Trollamor, the city of trolls. Related to the Dark Speech.		Giant
7	Pflecian	Language used in Pflec, the gnomish dictatorship. Related to the Dark Speech.		Gnomish
8	Skurut Tongues	The many dialects of various goblin tribes, all at least a little bit mutually intelligible. They often incorporate various body sounds.	Gain scent. You also become a little more ugly and green, slowly starting to turn into a goblin.	Goblin
9	Hinnish	Language of Hins, the tiny savages from the Hin Highlands.		Halfling
10	Ugrathish	Language of Ugrathi, the nomadic orcish clans who travel far and wide in their caravan wagons, wheeling and dealing.		Orcish
Rare Languages
11	Golden Gospeltongue	Language of clergy of the Triune Divinity. Said to be also used by the Empyreal Host of the High Heaven.	You can detect lies told in Gospeltongue. No save from the liar, but there must be intention behind the lie.	Celestial
12	Draconic	Also used by the dragonborn races and many sorcerers.	If you know the True Name of a dragon and call it in Draconic, they will always hear you, no matter where they might be. Their reactions may vary.	Draconic
13	Druidic	A secret language, forbidden to the uninitiated.	Animals understand your pleas or demands perfectly, even if you do not understand their replies.	Druidic
14	Dark Speech	Language of the Dark Ones, dead since they exterminated themselves in endless civil wars.	You can speak ancient words of command that still hold sway over the many races created by the Dark Ones. All creatures of such races* in earshot must make a Wisdom Save, or they must choose one of a) kneel immediately (as Prone), or b) cower in fear for [Charisma bonus, min 1] rounds (as Frightened). You may use this ability again after a short rest.	Deep Speech
15	Hereafter Speech	Language used by psychopomps, demons and the dead.	Any demon, undead or psychopomp must answer you one question thruthfully. Mindless undead get no save. Every creature can be affected only once.	Abyssal, Infernal
16	Djinnish	Language of the Elemental Lords. (Not an otherworldly power, they live around Lake Siva to the east and waged a long war against the Aunian Empire.)	The elements understand and try to help you. When you speak Djinnish, wind will blow when you command, fires will dim when you are whispering, earth will shake when you laugh and water will flow according to you will.	Primordial
17	Fey Speech	Language of the fickle Folk.	You can speak in endless riddles and allegories. Only the people you designate (who must know Fey Speech) will understand the true meaning of your speech.	Sylvan
18	Substratal	Dialects used in the various settlements around the Sunless Sea. Contains a lot of clicking sounds.	You can very, very poorly echolocate by clicking your tongue. Handy in the dark.	Undercommon
19	Thieves' Cant	A combination of code words, hand signs and markings used for covert communication. Originally developed by the Insurgency when they were fighting the Dark Ones, but later adopted by thieves all over the Amir Steppes.	You can sign with a single hand at the speed of normal speech. You can place marks that only you will find.	Thieves' Cant
20	Lip Reading	Works for any language you are proficient in.	You can lip-read even in languages you don't know. You will not understand the words, but can perfectly replicate the sounds for someone who does know that language.

*) Dark Ones specialized in biomancy and necromancy, leaving behind many half-human, half-animal races and hybrid monsters.

QHW, Day 30: Dwarves

Dwarves need metal. Dwarves eat metal.

Dwarven society is stratified into castes, which in turn are based on the metal which a dwarf can afford to eat. (This can be quite useful for PC dwarves, who can switch between racial benefits simply by changing their diet and waiting for their body to adjust.) More wealthy dwarves can afford better metals, which in turn marks them as belonging to a higher caste. If a dwarf doesn't eat metal, they will grow weak, sickly, and eventually die.

The Alloyed
Any dwarf who switched from one diet to another. It takes several days for one metal to be cleared from the body and superseded with a new one, during which time the dwarf's skin is mottled and uneven, often with rust-pimples or cracks.

Politely ignored if it's a dwarf mid-transition between castes, often with a celebration if they change into a higher caste. Dwarves who keep changing their caste and are more often Alloyed than not, disparagingly called the "slags", are widely considered untrustworthy and ignored impolitely.

The Impures
The lowest caste is composed of dwarves who do not always have access to the same cheap metal every day, or just don't have enough energy left to care. These are the labourers and unskilled workers.

Copper Dwarves have increased stamina, though overdose can lead to restlessness and insomnia. Tin Dwarves have somewhat enhanced senses, especially in the dark. Overdose can lead to migraines. Bronze Dwarves have a lesser version of both, which is especially useful for the miners.

Bronze Dwarves are not considered Alloyed and don't get the tell-tale signs of changing a diet, even if they eat two different metals.

Iron Dwarves, Ferrics
The military caste. Iron Dwarves are stronger and tougher, with overdose leading to the numbing of pain and all emotions.

Many dwarven veterans are unwilling to ever change their diet, as they have brutally slaughtered many enemies while under the influence of iron and losing the numbness would quickly lead to PTSD. Swallowing a large amount of iron at once to intentionally overdose can be used by dwarves of any caste as an emergency painkiller, though it leads to them becoming Alloyed if they weren't Ferrics.

Silver Dwarves, Argents
The craftsdwarves, artisans and artists. Silver Dwarves have augmented creativity, imagination, empathy and emotional intelligence, but overdose can leave them with hallucinations or something akin to a bipolar disorder.

Despite their social nature, many Argents choose to lead a reclusive life, as silver diet sometimes leads to embarrassingly undwarven behaviour, like freely expressing your feelings!

Gold Dwarves, Aureans
The leaders, merchants and scholars. Gold Dwarves have augmented mental capacity, memory retention and brain plasticity, allowing them to learn quickly and easily outwit most others. An overdose leads to a loss of empathy and moral restraints, allowing one to stay calm, objective and profitable even in the face of death and despair. As such, many Aureans eat more gold than would be necessary.

Occultum Dwarves, Occultins
Dwarves never have a natural gift for magic, but they can gain one by eating occultum. This is quite often lethal, but those who survive the first dose are rewarded with sorcerous powers. Occultum Dwarves rarely change their diet unless forced to by circumstances, as they cannot return to occultum without risking their life with that first dose again.

An occultum overdose has roughly equal chance of either a massive explosion, or a transformation into a mighty spirit of the earth.

Quicksilver Dwarves, Mercurials
Mercurials are not a part of the dwarven society. They are outcasts, considered monstrous and perverse. They are feared, despised and only whispered about in stories to frighten children. Their blood is a deadly poison, thus they steal the blood of other dwarves to survive. Just like quicksilver, they are malleable, able to change their appearance at will, or even dissolve their body into a pool of living mercury.

Some stories also claim that Mercurials are immortal. Many dwarven lands ban mercury to forestall the temptation and prevent the rise of dwarf-eating monstrosities in their midst.

QHW, Day 10: Domestication

Riftborn buffalo

• Riftborn buffalos migrate between alternate realities in search of new pastures. Their herds number in the tens of thousands, thus requiring frequent relocations. A stampede of such a herd can shatter the local reality, opening a temporary portal to the next dimension over. In a year, they will have come a full circle through a hundred different dimensions.
• The rifts close within several hours, but that leaves enough time for brave explorers to gather samples from another dimension. A smart researcher will hire a band of adventurers to get them safely through the rift and back again before it closes. A stupid researcher will surely be in need of rescuing for a fat reward.
• Riftborn buffalo dung is dried and then burned as the cheapest form of teleportation interference. Research implies that this property of the dung ensures that the herd doesn't backtrack and that the rifts destabilize and close on their own, covering the herd's backs against predators. It also means that royal chambers or treasury smelling of burnt buffalo dung is a rather common occurrence.
• There is no grazing land in the windswept wastes of N'gzul, but the herd must cross through to get to the lush plains of Shadarkeem. N'gzul hunters wait for the day when the sky starts to rumble and crack, and then kill many of the buffalos, providing a midwinter feast for their tribes. If the herd got delayed or diverted to another dimension, the tribes might not all survive till spring.
• A lost, lonesome buffalo cannot hope to pierce reality at will, but it still has a way to find its way back to the herd. The buffalos can sniff out places of weakened reality and then attempt to crash through there, even on their own. Sometimes, people will capture a riftborn buffalo for this very reason, releasing it when they need to find a way between planes, or detect a weak point where an incursion might be waiting to happen.
• An elderly or injured buffalo will spend its last strength to perform a dying plane shift to a dimension not normally visited by the herd. The so-called Buffalo Graveyard, a dead world with pitch black skies and mountains of buffalo bones. The bones are a prized alchemical ingredient, but that is not the main draw and concern here. When the herd is attacked, a wounded buffalo will sometimes carry out a suicide bullrush to drag an attacker with them to the Graveyard. Who or what might have ended up in this lost place?

QHW, Day 3: Children

1. There is a land where no children are born. In this land, there is a river and every few days, a newborn baby floats down its stream in a woven basket. The midwives catch the baskets and distribute the babies among the villages.

This river emerges from a deep cave in a great cliff, the Birthing Cave. What lies hidden inside?

2. An archmage once tried to resurrect a whole civilization by bringing back their dead. He succeeded, in a way.

The dead are indeed rising, in their old, decrepit bodies but with the blank souls of newborns. Then they start ageing - at normal rate but backwards! The helpless senior citizens are raised and educated by the middle aged. The twenty-something hold all the high positions, already experienced and physically in their prime. The ruling class is made up of the respected and wise teenagers, while those who keep their faculties into the baby years are often world-renown sages in their field.

3. Human babies are delivered by a stork. That is a fact. Humans are born from eggs in a stork nest. Where do young storks come from, then?

You see, when a human dies and is buried, a tree sprouts from their corpse. In time, this tree bears fruit, and many a woodland animal comes to feast on these sweet, fragrant fruits. Once sated, the animals are overcome by a strong compulsion to gather in one place and huddle tightly together. They then vomit up a strange bluish substance that hardens over their bodies, forming a chrysalis. After a few days, a small mustering of storks will hatch from this chrysalis.

And the cycle is complete.

QHW, Day 2: Beggars

Ah, the beggar-dead. Those unmourned souls and unburied skeletons.

They are immortal. They are ever-present. They are so feeble that even a child could beat them up.

They hide in the shadows and back alleys. They swarm the gates of graveyards and temples.

They want your mourning, your sorrow, your tears.

"Please sir, I died alone and nobody cared."

"Just a tear, ma'am, please! My children never loved me."

"I beg you, milord, show mercy! I was murdered by my wife and left in a ditch. Please, help me move on."

Don't. You help one and a thousand more will swarm you. You could cry yourself dry and they would still keep coming.

Just ignore them or notify the Busters' Guild.

QHW, Day 1: Weapons

All weapons are magic.

Anything used as a weapon is imbued with magic by that very act. The more violence and death a weapon brings, the more powerful it grows. Once it grows powerful enough, it develops a consciousness.

It is said that a weapon that was only ever wielded in a righteous fight will gain a righteous soul, one that was used by a sellsword will gain a greedy, merciless soul, but one that squandered an innocent life in vain will have a ravenous, diabolical soul.

Do not ever fight unarmed, for then you are the weapon. True, angels might be a proof that one can keep fighting the good fight, but there are so many more monsters and demons who were once all men.

Regional Trouble

Maybe your PCs have been all around the neighbourhood and it's time to spice things up a little. Or maybe you're looking for a way to seed your world with brewing conflicts and problems to be solved.

Either roll on the table when needed, or drop a bunch of d20s on your world map. Where they landed, that trouble starts brewing. Or it might not come about just yet, but there are omens and portents aplenty.
 

From here.

 

d20 Natural Disasters and Man-Made Messes

1. Drought: Start tracking water skins, as in a desert. If not resolved soon, will lead to famine. Water levels might be so low that river trade is crippled. Can the PCs persuade a local god or a coven of witches to bring back rain?
2. Famine: Might be caused by drought, locust swarms, blight... Cost of food soars, taverns are closed. Bandits everywhere, but they want your rations, not gold. Services and goods can be cheaply bought with a meal, but not with money. Have you heard that you can buy food cheaply and in bulk just over this dangerous (d4) forest/desert/swamp/mountain range? We shall reward you handsomely if you can bring back enough for the town.
   
3. Flood/Tsunami: Water everywhere, houses and crops are ruined, survivors are gathering in tent towns up on hills. A boat is a must, aquatic monsters are now a common encounter. A local wizard tower or fortress might be compromised; an ideal time for a heist!
4. Sinkhole: A megadungeon or a part of the Underdark has partially caved in. Lots of unusual riches are suddenly up for grabs, but also lots of unsettling threats are set free.
5. Earthquake: Houses collapse and ground breaks up. Might result in a sinkhole or a flood. On the plus side, whatever was the most secure, most impregnable building in town is now sporting large cracks in its walls and many of its guards have been injured or killed. What was it guarding?
   
6. Wildfire: How did it start? Can the PCs evacuate the town in time, or divert the fire? And where will all the druids and witches and trolls go when their home is reduced to ashes?
7. Volcanic eruption: Thankfully you were far enough to avoid the blast of overheated ash, but there is something wrong with this eruption. It's (d4) a greater demon starting to break free of its prison after a thousand years/an army of fire elementals there to take our forests because their nation is starving/an ascension of a lesser volcanic goddess, she has so much more planned now that she can/a female dragon in labour, her newly laid and extremely valuable eggs will now be safely resting somewhere deep in the volcanic caves.
8. Tornado/Hurricane: This one is probably better as an imminent threat. Can you get to safety before the wind drops a hut on your head or sweeps you away to Kansas? Afterwards, many structures will need to be rebuilt. Maybe the PCs can lend a hand and leave their touch on the town?
   
9. Blizzard: The winter this year is colder and darker and longer than any other you remember. Wild animals are starving and coming closer and closer to the town. The roads are nearly impassable, who will brave the blizzard to bring food and medicine?
10. Meteor: Whatever the most imposing or important structure nearby was, it has been hit by a shooting star. Some people say it's the star-gods coming for their chosen, some that it's an invasion. Others just see a huge chunk of starmetal up for grabs.
11. Plague: Bring out your dead! Make it some really weird, magical disease, as that would probably be more fun to play than 2020: The Campaign.
12. Terrorist attacks: Someone is blowing stuff up, or releasing wights in the streets, or laced the water supplies with potions. People are afraid. Martial law might have been declared. Is a cult involved? Or mind control? Lots of opportunities for investigating or bodyguarding.
13. Witch hunt: The Church is out for blood and any magic-user might be at risk. People are disappearing in the middle of the night and the stakes are already built. Black market in magic blooms. Wizards will offer their services cheaply or for free, if you can just hide them. What triggered this, anyway? And how to stop it before the resident archmage notices and goes to war against the Church?
14. War: There's always a war on. Except now, it has reached right here. If the PCs are in a town, it is now under siege and they cannot leave. There might be a forceful draft, a spy scare, or a supply shortage that could be solved by someone sneaking out through the old tunnels. If the PCs are out of town, the villages are looted or burned, enemy forces patrol the roads, and if they don't shoot you on sight, they would pay handsomely for information about city defenses.
15. Crusade/Jihad: Equally likely to be two different religions or two factions of the same religion, but the other side is clearly heretical. Otherwise treat this as a combination of a war and a witch hunt against clerics. Are the PCs religious?
16. Coup d'état: The king's twin brother has emerged with a claim to the throne! Or the ancient elven conspiracy has finally decided it's time they start ruling over the lesser races in the open! In any case, powerful factions are moving against each other and they need allies. Old allegiances are doubted and new ones sworn. There's a great opportunity to quickly rise to wealth and power, if you can pick the right side.
17. Civil unrest: The hoi polloi have had enough of the upper classes. There are mobs and looting in the streets. Nobles and the rich are either driven out of town, or outright lynched. Maybe you can use all this chaos as a distraction for your misdeeds. Maybe you can be richly rewarded for helping a noble protect their property, and/or escape with their life. Maybe you can find a way to stir this up into a full-on revolution, because why not?
    
18. Criminality: The Thief Guild has collapsed; or the most powerful crime lord is old or dead; or there is a new player in town who wants in on the illicit trades and is ready to spill blood over it. One way or another, this is going to be a big old mess.
19. Monsters: The monsters are coming out of the dark woods and deep caves, towards the town. The military is overextended, the roads are unsafe and the villagers scared. Lots of monster-hunting and escort contracts. But why have the monsters left their cosy lairs? Are they running away from something worse?
20. Roll on the Weird Troubles table below.

 

 
d6 Weird Troubles

1. Behemoth: It is huge. It is coming from the (d4) sea/mountains/wilderness/underground. It is not openly hostile yet, but its path will lead it directly through the town in just a few days.
2. Necromantic outbreak: Corpses rise mere minutes after death. Ghosts appear even in daylight. The graveyards are crawling with all kinds of things that should be dead. Is there a metaphysical imbalance to be righted? Is someone doing it intentionally? Does this herald something else?
3. Eternal night: The Sun has set one day and then didn't rise in the morning. Mass hysteria. Doomsday cults get an influx of members. Is this a localized event?
4. Thaumic fallout: It's raining random animals, houses are gaining extra rooms and body horror is ubiquitous. If there was no overt magical incident, then (d4) the ley lines are going haywire/there is a covert wizarding war/the government is experimenting on us/something is coming.
5. Alchemical spill: A massive amount of toxic and mutagenic waste has leaked into the environment. Clean water is at premium. The sewers are crawling with mutant crocodiles and worse. There's noxious fog and acid rain. The public at large wants some answers. Who is responsible?
6. Portal: A massive rift to another dimension has opened. If it's full of hostiles and dangers, that's bad. If not, that's still bad, because now everybody will call dibs on the new land and resources. Things will be busy around here.
   

All Wizards Are Warlocks

No human can just learn to manipulate magic.

The so-called wizards who brag and drone on about their long years of careful study that granted them supernatural powers simply don't want to acknowledge the obvious: You cannot build a tower without the foundations. You cannot make a cow fly without some serious help. Indeed, humans can use magic - but only with help, if they are given the Gift by a spirit of some sort.

A patron, if you will.

Thus every magic user must follow a certain pact that grants them access to their preternatural powers, though the exact nature of such pact and the price they pay differs wildly between practitioners. While there are no hard and fast rules for sorting magicians into neat and clear-cut categories, at least some of the most common kinds of magic users and their approaches to magic and the spirit world are discussed below.
 

"Wait! I can go up to ten babies, but not a single one more."

 
Sorcerers would be the exception that proves the rule, as they do have an inherent gift of magic that they can train and hone on their own - except they are not human, not fully. Their pact is one of blood and bloodline, their patron the non-human ancestor who set their whole family apart from the rest of the human race.

Sorcery tends to have a very narrow focus - a dragon may sire a lineage of pyromancers, a fairy a line of illusionists - and departing from one's hereditary, traditional craft is basically impossible. Indeed, sorcerous families oftentimes gravitate towards a strong sense of tradition, elitism and purity of blood, stoked by the fear of loosing that which makes them special. As their bloodline gets diluted over generations, the sorcerous spark grows ever weaker and their gift of magic eventually fades away. This unfortunately drives many sorcerers to search for ways of preserving the power of their family. Affairs with non-humans and incestuous relationships are regrettably common among sorcerers. And while this does keep the magic in the family, it also sets the sorcerers ever further apart from true humanity, with each new inbred generation being more powerful, more mutated and more insane, until at one point, it's no longer possible to consider them human magicians any more, but rather magic beings in their own right.

Such creatures are then quite likely to find a human spouse for themselves, and the cycle starts anew.

Mediums pay for magic with their bodies. In exchange for power, they offer agency to any spirit who desires a more physical presence in Reality. In short, they willingly let themselves be possessed.

This form of the Craft is probably the easiest to start with - a spirit who would enjoy a ride in a living body can be found pretty much everywhere and all a prospective medium has to do is keep an open mind as say "Yes" - but doing it in a safe and useful manner is very hard. After all, you are opening your Self to a magical being and the only way to gain more power is to let more powerful spirits in. As the saying goes, there are no bad mediums, only dead mediums.

The good ones, though, eventually end up either bonding with a single spirit and gaining a great, focused power through the breadth and depth of their connection; or amassing a host of multiple spirits for short-term possessions, each a different tool in their toolbox. The former run a high risk of eventually merging with their possessing spirit and shedding their humanity as a newborn magical beast. The latter should take care to play all of their spirits off against each other, lest the spirits grow discontent with their limited access to the medium's body and unite their forces, resulting in an involuntary possession by the whole host of spirits, banishment of the medium's soul and the birth of a creature known as the wisp-lord.

Priests are quite obviously serving a higher power, a distant deity that deigns to answer some of their pleas for help in exchange for regular prayers and rites. Never forget, though, that there's really not that much of a difference between a cleric of the Lord of Light and a cultist of He-Who-Lurks-In-Corners - both are trying to catch the attention of a being that could squash a city without even meaning to, and that doesn't really listen to, care about or understand its worshippers. Priestly magic is very powerful, but unreliable and prone to missing the point or being helpful only in mysterious, alien ways.

Evangelists are often seen as priests with another name, but that's plain wrong. Evangelists don't work with the gods, they work with angels. And where priests might be fine with going through the motions of reverence with no true faith or zeal behind it - they are so deep beneath the notice of their patrons that all but the most egregious sins and mistakes are overlooked - evangelists have to always stay true in their ardour.

Indeed, angels tend to take a great interest in evangelists, keeping them an unseen company at all times, helping and guarding them, but never forgiving. Angels are spirits of holy war and vengeance. Angels are razor focused on battling evil in all forms and shapes, enabling a lone evangelist to repel an army of the dead or go toe to toe with a greater demon, until they misstep and get smote on the spot.

Diabolists are the archetypal warlocks. They made a pact for power or knowledge, pledging their services or selling some bits and bobs of themselves to a patron who has need of what the warlock offers and can provide magic in exchange. The name "diabolist" is misleading, as they didn't necessarily have to make a deal with the devil - they could have made a deal with any number of other otherworldly entities - yet the principal difference from other magicians is that a diabolist's power is strictly contractual, its limits and conditions clearly stipulated. The magic of diabolists is the most reliable of all the forms of practice, as long as they are able and willing to keep their side of the bargain.

Druids cater either to the many small nature spirits that infuse every tree and spring and herd of animals, or to the great spirits of nature who oversee whole forests, mountains or islands. They build up favour with a location until the very wind and ground and undergrowth likes them and tries to help them and fulfil their every wish. They hold great sway while in their place of power, but they are also greatly limited should they leave. While the spiritual word of mouth may allow them to draw upon some of the favour they amassed even elsewhere, the spirits of nature are jealous, fickle and territorial - if the druid is gone for too long from their demesne, they may return to find that the place has forgotten them, or even worse, faults them for leaving.

Shamans work with lesser spirits too, but where druids build their relationship with all spirits in a location, shamans try to win the affections of specific spirits - ancestral and heroic ghosts, petty gods, minor demons or Folk, anything goes. All their magic is very much quid pro quo, and the nature of favours they may draw upon depends on the kind of spirits they commune with. They are the socialites of magic users, they have connections, they know a guy who knows a guy. They also have to juggle their spirit friendships very carefully, as trying to woo two feuding spirits could result in some bad blood very easily and getting bad-mouthed by an angry spirit might seriously threaten their Craft.

Elementalists, necromancers and demonologists are all proud to differentiate themselves from one another, but they are all in fact just specialized summoners. They are not even that different from shamans, except that a shaman has a long-standing relationship with their spirits, whereas a (whichever) summoner calls upon any random spirit of their chosen type, offering it a payment for one specific task. Take it or leave it, we don't need to see each other again once the job is done.

An elementalist doesn't throw a fireball, she feeds some delicious bat guano to a fire elemental and it makes an explosion for her. A necromancer doesn't animate the dead, he offers to return corporeality back to the dead in exchange for servitude. And a demonologist exchanges souls for services.

Magi are sometimes disparagingly called the dabblers or wandslingers, or with less prejudice the collectors. They didn't make a pact or build up favour - they found a stick and learned how to activate it.

Of course, that is an exaggeration. A magus is often a determined individual who sacrificed a lot to win their wand or spell-blade or another artifact. Their magic is simple and strong and stable, but also set in stone - there is no flexibility, no growth. Once they learn to use their artifact, that's all they will ever be able to do unless they hunt down another artifact. Plus they are the only type of magician whose magic can easily be stolen. Easy come, easy go, as they say.

Alchemists are the strangest bunch - they force magic to happen. Other magicians occasionally fabricate magic items, but alchemists specialize in it. They create spirit-lures in the form of tasty potions, interesting scribblings on scrolls, or strange alloys of metals forged into rings; then they bind the spirits they entice, with the only way out of the binding being to perform as requested. They can trap nearly any magical being and when they negotiate, it's always from the position of power. They are masters of magic runes and circles and sigils. They build golems, craft enchanted arms and armour, even transmogrify living creatures with biomantic surgery-seals. With the right formula, they can make nearly any magic happen. The greatest of them take years to reshape the landscape into geomantic bindings that enslave gods.

They are also universally hated by the spirits. They have to be very meticulous and methodical, because if they make the tiniest mistake, all hell breaks loose.

Goblin kings, or filthomancers, are the living proof that even awful things can be useful. It is a common knowledge that goblinism is contagious. It is not a normal disease, though, but rather a spiritual one. A wild disease-spirit that can nonetheless be tamed with gifts and drawn on for magic.

Everything a goblin can do, a goblin king can do better - creating a variety of noxious and toxic odours, slipping anywhere unnoticed, smelling out everything from what you had for lunch to hidden treasure or emotions, surviving nearly anything by becoming more disfigured and disgusting, getting bigger and stronger and tougher by eating a lot, making others suffer. And with the favour of the goblin-spirit, the "friendship" of goblins comes hand in hand. A prospective goblin queen will soon find herself with a cohort of goblins that follow her everywhere (especially where she doesn't want them to follow) and kind-of help with everything (but mainly make a big mess) - thus also the title of a queen or king.

Importantly though, goblin kings are prime carriers of goblinism. Everything they touch and anyone they interact with will be at least a little bit tainted - a little bit under their control. They don't need to build a trapped mansion for themselves - any building they live in will eventually become an ugly, filthy goblin-shack, full of nasty and dangerous surprises for trespassers. They have no need for magic weapons - any knife they use for a while will become a serrated, rusty, poisonous, deadly goblin-shank. If you're willing to debase yourself enough, goblin magic can be disgustingly useful and treacherously versatile.
 

For the low price of your sanity...
From Magic the Gathering

 
And what about the wizards? Those who would be bloody insulted if you called them a warlock, insulted enough to singe your eyebrows off with a lightning bolt, even? Those who are always accompanied by their familiar, a spiritual guide and helper and friend? A familiar that they made a pact with, a pact for power or knowledge?

Yeah...

Black Moon of Vanth

Eons ago, a miniature black hole emerged in near vicinity of Vanth. Today, no one can recall whether it was a natural quantum coincidence, a failed experiment of stupendous science, or an equally failed deployment of a planet-busting superweapon, but the black hole caused a series of cataclysms on the surface of Vanth before being contained in a powerful antigravity field by a cabal of scientists, gods, sorcerers and a time traveller. Since then, it had settled into a stable orbit, causing only a periodic visual distortion of the night sky well-known to all vanthian stargazers.
 

Black Moon rising above the North Mountains.
From here.

While the Black Moon doesn't have a true surface, there is one structure built atop of it. The Black Tower started as a simple space station housing the magical and technological apparatus necessary for maintaining the antigravity field, but has been repeatedly expanded and upgraded until its current incarnation. First, it was just the addition of new barracks for a garrison of defenders, should someone try to seize control of the antigravity field for nefarious purposes. Then a new technology stolen acquired from a crashed alien starship allowed for a mineshaft to be drilled through the event horizon of the black hole, and an explosive growth of the station begun soon after the first chunks of the extremely valuable black hole metal ore were extracted.

The station was further fortified as attacks of both space pirates and covetous civilizations grew in frequency and ferocity, until after a century of power struggles and interplanetary wars, a group of no-name psi knights calling themselves the Blackstar Order blind-sided everyone and took over the Black Tower. This Order eventually gained system-wide recognition and acknowledgement, after they withstood the onslaught of many enemies and entrenched themselves into the economy by virtue of their monopoly on black hole metal production.

While the Blackstar Order runs its black hole metal mining operation to this day, its primary interests have slowly shifted more towards politics. The crenellated duralloy bulwarks of the Black Tower no longer have to defy endless would-be conquerors, rather they serve as a secure neutral meeting ground for world leaders, gods and alien ambassadors. Or at least they served, until the recent failure of the Galactic Beacon. With interstellar travel, trade and communications suddenly severed, the Order faces an unexpected end to their routine power plays. However, with their accumulated wealth, an army of psi knights and mercenary troops, and connections throughout the whole solar system, the Order might stand to gain much from this sudden isolation, if they play their hand right.

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.

The Hunt

Several strings of footprints stretched along a narrow, snow-covered path leading up to the top of the world. Enormous white mountains pierced the serene azure sky, like ancient titans sworn to protect the land from the corrupted civilization. Here the glorious nature which gave birth to Marx and Lenin showed its true might. This was the Earth of yore, untouched by the capitalist filth.

High and higher the footprints lead, into a small cave hidden in the very core of the Himalayas mountains. They continued deep into the cave, where a tunnel twisted and winded through endless stone. Finally, the pathway opened into a heavenly valley, happy to be isolated from the outside world. The footprints made their way downwards, following a small group of men. Slowly, the snow disappeared.

The tiny group travelled through a village full of marvellous far-eastern architecture, past glittering waterfalls and gardens resembling a tiny paradise each, towards a tall temple of jade and precious metals. There most the men stayed, and only two entered the ornamental gates surrounded by six finely crafted statues of Buddha.

In a long nephrite hall with no furniture but a plethora of engravings, they sat down in front of an old monk. Slowly, he stopped humming the mantra of meditation and opened his wise and compassionate eyes. The two men removed their hoods, revealing the respected and self-confident face of the Great and Glorious Leader of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and the scarred, sombre face of his feared bodyguard, Ivan Gorovits.

"Welcome to my humble abode, comrades," the monk greeted them.

"Blessed be Lenin, who guided us here and shielded us from the rockslides, avalanches and the smart missiles of our enemies! And blessed be you, the most honoured elder of Shangri-La, ancient lore keeper of Shambala, great governor of Tralla-La, O wisest of the wise in Xanadu! I came here with an offering of an alliance between your people and the people of the Soviet Union!" declared the First Among Bolsheviks in a strong and resonant voice, the same voice that had shown the true and right way to the lost masses of the proletariat for many years now.

"Ah, so our anguish is not unfamiliar to you. For two millennia we had lived in utmost joy, embracing the wise words of Tripitaka and Das Kapital, until the fateful yesteryear. A wicked capitalist named Emmanuel Goldstein found our valley, forced his way inside, and tried to seduce us with his lies about private property, huge profit and untold riches brought by capitalism. We now presume he had a malevolent plan to buy our valley and turn it into a theme park for western tourists, but we managed to drive the man out. Capitalism be cursed forever!"

 

A terrible cloud of unprecedented anger descended upon the brow of the old monk. "Yet we are not truly rid of this terrible cancer. We face the accursed abundance, never-ending innovation, unstoppable progress, social decadence and independence, and worst of all, selfish freedom of capitalism. The seed was sown and threatens to bring us to self-destruction unless we act quickly! As the president of the local Communist Party, I was forced to take drastic measures to prevent a civil war in our beloved, backwater valley. We will be thrilled and thankful to join the Soviet Union in exchange for your help."

The Most Beloved Lord and Master of CCCP nodded with deep sorrow. "We know all too well about the trappings of the sly capitalists. The Great Soviet Union, our beloved homeland, was defiled by Goldstein just eighteen months ago. Its happy collective farms were abolished and our people driven to poverty, unemployment and despair. Dark influence of the Enemy is spreading like plague across our lands! We must strike back, we must strike together, we must strike hard! The seed of dissent will not grow if we squash it and all of its ilk in an exemplary bloodshed. I humbly offer to lead the troops of Shangri-La against the foul imperialists, destroying their way of life and driving them out of their vile, resplendent dens."

"Yes," Ivan ventured. "Leader need good men to kill bad capitalists who chase him away from CCCP! Ivan good man and cossacks good men but cannot restore Leader alone. Soviet Union need more people than twelve."

The Illustrious and Irked Leader shushed Ivan and turned back to the old monk. "As I was saying, we need to work together and act quickly to shatter the very spirit of the bourgeoisie!"

"Indeed," the monk replied, reflecting and ruminating. "We ought to work together. However, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. I must be assured that you are a worthy ally. First, I shall test your wisdom. Tell me, how many Zen Buddhists does it take to change a light bulb?"

The Wise and Brilliant Leader smiled. "All of them and none, of course, for such is the nature of Zen."

"Great answer and greater still the man who spoke it," the monk nodded.

On some unseen signal, a novice monk appeared along with a white cow. The old monk gave the Leader a sharp look: "Now tell me, does this cow share the truth of Buddha, or does she yet strive to embrace the wholeness of Marxism and Leninism?"

The Best Leader That Ever Lived replied: "Yes!"

"Moo," the cow said, pleased.

"Correct," the old monk bowed in a polite acknowledgement of the superior intellect of the Leader. "Last but not least, I must ask you to describe the sure sign of a CCCP kolkhoz being founded in the middle of the deep Siberian taiga."

"The sound of trees falling in the forest."

"Praise Buddha and Marx! Russian communists are indeed as wise as I was told!" the monk cried out in ecstatic joy.

"Great, then signing a pact is but a formality now, right?" the Leader enquired. "How many masters of ancient and powerful martial arts can you lend us? How many occultists and sorcerers, espers and psykers? Maybe even some conventional weapons? Tanks and troops, a nuclear bomb or two?"

"Not that fast, my esteemed comrade. Enlightenment surely is the most important trait of a man and a communist, but it alone won't win a war. Strength of body is needed, too. I can give you as many troops as your heart desires, once I am sure they will serve side by side with the best of Russian bogatyrs. As per tradition, you ought to succeed in a difficult and dangerous quest before the alliance becomes reality."

The Incredibly Intrepid and Impatient Leader almost started to protest, but the monk continued: "A frightful monster raided our village recently, coming through an extradimensional portal that opened right in this very temple. The casualties suffered were low, nothing that couldn't be compensated for, but on its escape from our defenders, the creature took with itself our most priced possession of all, a life-sized copy of Lenin's mummy. Slay the beast and bring back the mummy of our beloved Father of the Revolution, then we shall know the true strength of your communist conviction and the capitalistic oppression will crumble before our united might!"

The Most Gloomy Leader sighs: "Well, okay then. Can you at least tell me what kind of a monster are we looking for?"

"Most definitely, yes. None have truly seen the beast for it attacked on a moonless night, but we have scrutinized the sacred scrolls and tomes of forbidden knowledge, until we found a passage we believe pertains to this horrific anti-communist thief."

 

The old monk intoneed in a dark voice: "On tienoo äkkiä niin hiljainen ja musta ja mörkö niin kuin vuori tuijottaa, ja jäinen maa on täynnä kammotusta, kun kuustakin pois värit putoaa."

There was a stretch as silence, broken only once the Notably Frustrated Leader asked in a voice that betrayed none of his inner thoughts: "And that's all? Really?"

"Indeed," the monk replied. "Do you believe yourself up to this task, O Most Monumental Master of the Only True and Righteous Philosophy?"

The Resigned yet Resolute Leader whispered something briefly to Ivan. Ivan opened his backpack, taking out the hereditary weapons of his family: an AK-47 covered in notches, one per slain capitalist; his grandfather's collection of grenades and his gas mask; the bulletproof vest his grandmother wore during the Great October Socialist Revolution; a hammer and sickle given to his father by Lenin himself; and finally a massive scimitar of old Russian steel, used by generations of his forefathers. Then he strode to the door: "Ivan go prepare cossacks."

In a minute, the rest of the group that stayed waiting outside of the temple was marshalled, all hardy cossacks of the Tried but Triumphant Leader's personal squad.

"Follow me," the old monk said and all followed him through wide halls of jade, then steep stairs of granite, then narrow tunnels of gneiss, then rickety ladder of pine wood, then dim passageways of caked dust. There in a chamber forgotten for many a millennium, a bluish glowing portal yawned in the mid-air.

The old monk spoke up: "Be careful, brave warriors, for the road you will tread on is violent and may well lead to your death. May the spirit of Lenin guide you to victory!"

But on the faces of the small squad nothing but eager determination could be seen, as behoves a true Soviet comrade. Facing the portal, they all gripped their trusty kalashnikovs.

"For father Lenin, for the Party and for our Great and Glorious Leader!" Ivan exclaimed and the cossacks joined him in a thunderous battle cry. Then one by one, they stepped into the luminous rift. The last to go was Ivan, a wide grin on his heroic face: "Ivan ready to hunt."

After a while, the old monk looked at the Daring and Dashing Leader, who was still standing next to him: "You... won't go?"

"No, of course not. Now, don't take it the wrong way, but it might be a while and I don't particularly fancy sitting here in the cold temple halls the whole time. Do you have a pub or something around here? I could use a bottle of vodka. Or two."

His Flesh

He was a titan. He was a god. He was struck down by his brethren and trapped in these unhallowed halls. He was drawn and quartered and tortured and butchered and eventually, more or less, killed.
 

 
His meat and fat was cooked and devoured in the greatest feast this place has ever seen. Many a strange creature participated in the unlikely peace of this feast, all forever bound by a profound sense of fellowship. Those who tasted his flesh may always request a parley with one another.

His right hand has never stopped moving, and was stolen before the great feast was over. It now resides in the Endless Archives, tended to by the Archivist Monks who provide it with ink and papyrus, and study its scrolls of knowledge and foreknowledge.

His left hand was taken by Wlchzmlk the Cripple Queen. She later became known as She-Who-Touched-The-Sun, after she managed to escape this underworld and reach the mythical surface world so far, far above. Of course she eventually returned, as all wayfaring, wayward denizens do.

His legs were gobbled up by K'irssa and H'yshra, two Sisters of the Worm. For their gluttony, they were imprisoned in hanging cages where the Worm cannot free them. He is sure to reward anyone who would bring his Sisters back.

His skull and ribcage used to be worn as an armour by Umm Burhyaa Ra'ar al-Muscati, the Lichloved. Since her peaceful death, they have been interred in her tomb, along with other treasures beyond belief and an army of husbands and slaves.

His brain was sold to the dErO, who made it the core of their thinking machine. Any psychic can reach through the machine to all others. In fact, the dErO insist you do so. Yes, you!

His right eye was given to the nameless beholder, to quell his rage after he lost his central eye in a failed assassination attempt. It doesn't negate magic, it bends and warps and empowers it.

His left eye was swallowed by a fungal ambassodile for safekeeping. No one has yet acquired the proper deed to collect it.

His third eye has escaped and evades capture to this day, wandering the tunnels and mazes aimlessly, or maybe with an inscrutable goal.

His teeth were made into 47 daggers for the 47 name-thieves, each inscribed with the true name of its wielder.

His tongue was gifted to the golem lord Faragó Nándor, bringing back his eloquence lost in an unfortunate deal years before.

His lungs were claimed by the Bodhisattva of the Third and Seventh Winds, for purposes unknown. His meditations are not to be disturbed.

His stomach was eventually acquired by the Guild of Biomancers, who use it to brew their many drugs and draughts. Ask your local vendor!

His liver was personally prepared by the divine chef Palxaochitli and shall be served only to the champion of the Night Games. The meal is as of yet unclaimed.

His spleen was eaten by an unknown adventurer, yet it proved too powerful for her feeble frame. It gave her immortality in exchange for her sanity, and still sits undigested in her stomach, wherever she might be.

His kidneys were saved for the engagement banquet of Lord Eldar and Lady Aerith. Two stones were found in the kidneys and set into rings of orichalcum, then exchanged at their wedding. No elf can refuse an order given by a wearer of one of those rings.

His bladder was crafted into a hot air balloon by the dwarven brothers Urist and Cog, another of their many ill-fated attempts to escape the underworld.

Many an attempt was made to eat his pancreas, yet everyone failed, as those who take a single bite loose both their desire and need for nutrition, forthwith and forever. What might result from somebody eating more than a mouthful is the subject of much debate and speculation. Lately, baron Von Totenkopf led a successful heist and absconded with the pancreas. He is presumably hiding in the ghoul quarters, the bounty on his head ever-rising.

His skin was flayed, stretched and dried into a parchment, then scribed with all the curses he uttered with his dying breath and bound into a book of horrid magics.

His hair were burnt as an offering to Os and Oa, the conjoined demon-gods. If any bits of his hair were found to still remain, burning them might bring a blessing of the demon-gods.

His intestines were used to bind Yog-yiacarhu, Who-Lurks-In-Corners, and were the first thing to ever pin xyr in place. Unfortunately, many lengths of the intestines were since stolen from xyrs prison, and xe may very well tear free, should even one more loop be removed.

His penis was won in a bet by Barad the Bawdy, a party animal* extraordinaire. It became the pride of his collection of curios and memorabilia, after he realized that getting it grafted on is unfeasible. Barad loves to tell this anecdote to all his party guests, and those that don't laugh tend to become a part of the menu.

His testicles were seized by the Dark and used to breed all manner of Darkspawn. Anyone can challenge the Dark for the ownership of the testicles, but nobody yet dared and lived.

His scrotum was made into a sack, said to bring back to life anything dead placed inside. It is rumoured to be among the possessions of the Last Holy Priest.

His heart has been fed nectar and ambrosia, growing ever mightier and more humongous. When you press your ear to any piping, you can hear its distant beating as it pumps water and oil and blood and steam and sewage throughout the whole dungeon.

His soul has been trapped in a machine of black iron, its main chakras pierced by seven lances of magical metals. They focus his boundless pain and burning hatred, channel them into a heat exchanger to generate steam for heating the dungeon and powering its many traps and lifts and subsystems.

His blood, sweat, tears, lymph, urine, semen, cerebrospinal fluid and snot were preserved and portioned into countless vials. Each of the liquids is ascribed a plethora of beneficial properties, and any remaining vials might fetch a high price from the right buyer.

His cerumen was made into nine times nine foul candles. Lighting one produces horrid screeching and ringing that drowns out all other sounds and prevents concentration of anyone nearby. Longer exposure results in lasting tinnitus, severe migraines, and finally madness.

The leftovers were fed to the rats. None can say for sure, but it might have spurred the sudden and rapid development and procreation of ratlings, making them the nuisance they are today.

 
Everyone knows he is not dead, just biding his time. Maybe the prison of his soul will be damaged, and he will pull his body back together. Maybe some fool will consume enough of his corporeal remains to inherit his spirit, as well. The question is when, not if.

He is still a god, after all.


*) Literally.

Worth of Soul

There was some talk about this on Discord a while back.

What to do with a soul?

Some would say that apart form the one that keeps you going, you have no need for further souls. Yet many supernatural creatures seems to have taken a fancy to souls, often demanding them in payment or hoarding them for some reason. Let's investigate these reasons.

Side note: Unless otherwise noted, we will be assuming heroic or magical souls, as souls of animals and dirt-farming peasants are too weak and faint for most uses. Except soulsteel. Throw every soul you don't want or need into a soulsteel furnace.

I rather like this depiction of a soul, or at least the core spark of life.

 
There is a reason that souls are usually depicted as glowing motes of light. Deep within the sevenfold soul is a spark that constantly pumps out raw power, converted by the outer layers of the soul into life energy, psionic energy, mana, the already mentioned ethereal glow, and more. This tiny spark is the core of the soul, a shard of primordial life. This constant flow of power is also the fundamental use of any soul, the basis upon which all other uses build.

Sustenance: At the most simple, soul energy can refresh your body similarly to a ration. Animal souls might taste like gruel, while the soul of a saint would equal to an opulent feast. Of course, most material creatures are not adapted to subsisting on souls, so it is not recommended to skip tangible food for too long. While you wouldn't starve to death, avitaminosis and massive weight loss would soon set in, followed by slow transformation into a wraith or lesser demon.

Power: A soul can also be drained to refresh a spent MD or psionic ability, though faint souls are too weak for this use. Souls of creatures that possessed magical or psionic abilities in life are already accustomed to this draining of energy, so they are not immediately used up, but rather can be drained repeatedly (once per day unless they were very powerful).

Healing: Souls are made of life energy, so of course they are good for your health. A soul can be distilled for the same effect as a healing potion, except potions don't tend to scream in terror all the way down your throat, don't leave fragmented echoes of memories in your mind after use, and don't see you branded as a diabolist and burnt at the stake.

Oh, I haven't mentioned this yet? Abusing and destroying souls is Evil; even using animal souls is heavily frowned upon and may get you in trouble with the Inquisition.

But I digress. Drinking souls is great! Not only can they mend your body, they can heal your mind, too. A soul elixir removes [HD of the original creature] Trauma when drunk, and a soul salve can be used to rub sins right off your metaphysical self. In both cases, the afflictions are transferred to the soul in the medicine, which can be then safely disposed of, or recycled for soulsteel production.

Knowledge: At times you need to know a thing, be it some lore or skill. You don't have the time to learn, but you do have a useful soul. Many people would pay a fortune for a soul that remembers something rare or forgotten, that has valuable abilities, or even one that knows languages they couldn't be bothered to learn on their own.

Entertainment: Many a noble has their secret stash of bottled souls with interesting stories. Wealthy women weep with memories of great romance they never had, cowardly rakes can live the life of danger and adventure through a purchased soul. There's also the "fun stuff" for those of dark desires, but who don't want to risk their own skin and sanity. From memories of humiliation, depraved sex, torture, or murder to souls that literally went through Hell, including such exclusive articles as souls tortured by famous demon lords. Some people willingly sell their interesting memories, as everything has a price.

Protection: There are many detrimental magics that target the soul; life drain, curses, mind reading or memory altering, death spells, soul trapping, etc. Strapping some extra souls on your own makes it much safer to confront such threats, as your ablative soul armour will take the hits first. Even better, so many souls concentrated in a single spot can also muddle up many divination and scrying techniques, making you even harder to pin down for a magical attack.

Traps: Every ghost hunter knows what a haunt is - an area imprinted with death, inflicting the cause of death upon anyone who ventures inside. Any grisly departed soul can be repurposed into a haunt, serving as a supernatural trap. The best haunts are obviously made from souls you specifically prepare for this task - burn a few people alive and bind their souls into a fire trap, torture someone to death for a symbol of pain. The possibilities are as endless as various causes of death. Some ectomancers even compress haunts into ghost-grenades, portable and very dangerous.

Metallurgy: Soulsteel is in high demand due to its high strength and innate ghost touch effect. It can be rather easily created by smelting souls with iron ore, making it the only magical metal available in significant amounts, and thus often employed in larger projects and big magical constructions. Even low-quality souls can make good soulsteel if you use enough of them, and their constant agonized wailing as they are forever trapped in the metal is more faint than with heroic souls.

Enchantments: More advanced and specialized magical weapons and armour utilize souls too, though quality and magical resonance matters here quite a bit. The souls are bound into the finished item rather than smelted into the raw material, and serve as the source of both power and basic magical traits. You'll need several simple soldier souls just to make a boring +1 dagger, while a cannibal chieftain's soul could make a nice human-slaying battle-axe, and a pyromancer's soul would be great for a flaming sword.

Intelligent magical items are the result of enchanting with too powerful and wilful souls, and there are of course stories of weapons with souls so strong they overwhelmed their wielder.

Animation: While intelligent items are normally not the desired outcome of binding a soul, you can use the same process to grant a mind to anything that needs one. Where the first ventures onto the field of golemancy attempted to create a guiding intelligence from scratch, it was soon discovered that such artificial intelligences are too expensive, limited, and inflexible. A soul, on the other hand, already comes with a plethora of innate abilities, instincts and learned behaviour, making it much faster and cheaper to animate a golem.

The trick, then, is to find a suitable soul given the required function of each golem, and find the right balance of geasa and cognitive restrictions that would allow it to perform at peak efficiency without compromising its absolute obedience with residual free will. The infamous golem rages are the result of imperfect application of these restrictions.

Magic: Souls can power your magic, but souls also are magic. Spirits are spells are souls. Think about the main characteristics of the person whose soul you would cast. Were they greedy? Then you can use the soul to cast detect treasure. Cowardly? Expeditious retreat. Pious? Bless, or maybe protection from evil. Some wizards even groom slaves to prepare their souls for specialized magical effects, or cross-breed souls with their favourite spells to get new, exciting magics.

Replacement: It's not uncommon in many magical professions to loose pieces of your soul. While definitely not healthy, it's not life-threatening is promptly treated. Souls that are neither good enough for better uses, nor weak enough to go directly to the soulsteel furnace are often sold for spare parts. Bring your old soul for an exchange and get 20% off your new one!

There is also the much less common practice of soul enhancement, where undesirable pieces of your soul are replaced with better ones. Think plastic surgery for the soul. You could get rid of boredom, switch your laziness for workaholism, implant a bit of faith, or cut down your anger and hatred.

Obviously the good bits have to comes from somewhere, and people with desirable mental traits can make good money by selling them, unless they get soul-mugged and wake up with their love or patience stolen.
 

A vodník with some souls stored in teapots.

 
But I didn't answer the question, did I? What is a soul worth?

Exactly [2d100 * HD * HD + 1d20] gp. Happy?

Giantslayer

Giantslayer is a board game popular in Haloglan and Hardakan. Its origins, according to a legend, lie in the ancient war between frost giants and the first settlers who came to the lands around Deron (the capital of Haloglan). Many epic ballads are sung about the heroic fights of halogai warriors against the mighty giants, and Giantslayer players can be found in nearly every tavern.
 

From here.

  

The Rules

The game is for two players, each of whom controls one colour of stones. White stones represent the halogai - numerous and swift, but unable to bring down a giant without help from their peers; black stones the giants - horrifically powerful in attack, but scant and slow. The game is played on a hexagonal board, white stones starting on the outer edge, while black stones start surrounding the middle hex. The middle hex cannot be passed by any stone.

Initial setup: 24 white stones and 6 black stones.

  

The game represents an ambush set by halogai, the giants surrounded and outnumbered, yet still extremely dangerous. White player starts, then players alternate turns. Every turn, the player moves one of their stones. Making a move is required; it is not legal to skip a move, even when having to move is detrimental.

The game can end in two ways. Either when all black stones are captured (the giants were all killed), or when all black stones currently in play are on one of the edge hexes of the board (some of the giants escaped). The white player gets a point for each captured black stone, while the black player gets a points for each "escaped" black stone. The game is normally played in several rounds, the player switching sides after each round and keeping a running tally of points.

Examples of basic moves for the two colours.
These could be the first three turns taken by the players.

 

Each player moves and captures in a different way.

White stones can move any number of vacant hexes in a row, in any direction. They capture by flanking a black stone - at the start of the white player's turn, if any black stone has two or more white stones adjacent to it, the black stone is automatically captured before the white player proceeds with her turn.

Note that if the white player flanks a black stone, the black player can still manage to move her stone away from the endangered position on her turn. Only if she cannot do that and the stone is still flanked at the start of the white player's turn will the stone be captured.

Black stones can move only a single hex in any direction onto a vacant hex. They capture by trampling a white stone - the black player can "jump" her stone over any adjacent white stone onto a vacant hex, capturing the white stone. If capturing a white stone brings the black stone to a position where it could capture another white stone, it may do so and continue capturing until there are no more valid trampling moves to do. Only then will the black player's turn end.

Note that the black player is not required to trample when the opportunity arises and she can stop trampling even when more trampling moves would be possible.

Examples of capturing: Two white stones are flanking
a black stone and will automatically capture it,
then the white player will move. The black stone can move
to trample a white stone, but there are no additional
trampling targets, so his turn will end there. However,
because the trampling would end with the black stone
adjacent to three white stones, the black stone would be
immediately captured at the start of the white player's turn.

Thus the basic goal for the white player is to outflank the black player without allowing her to move her stones into trampling positions, or allowing her to get all the black stones on the edge of the board.

Note that the game only ends when all the remaining black stones are on the edge of the board at the same time, so it's not a problem if only one or so gets there. It's actually rather easy to flank them when their moves are limited by the edge of the board.

The black player must prevent being adjacent to multiple white stones and find a way to capture multiple white stones in one trampling, to level the playing field where the white player has massively superior numbers. She should then take advantage of any opening on the edge of the board and try to get all her stones safely to these openings, escaping.

An example of a game that ended with the black stones
escaping; both players gained three points. The uppermost
black stone is in a position where it would be captured, but as
its move resulted in all black stones being on the edge of
the board, the game ended immediately, before it could
be captured.

Discussion

This game was inspired by idle thoughts about how most classic board games have the players on equal footing, with the same amount of stones/pieces, the same rules and strategies, and the same goal. However, could there be a game where the sides are very much unequal, without loosing game balance?

This is my attempt at such a game. Each side has a different goal and must use very different strategies to achieve it. And because each side even moves and captures differently, they feel very unlike the other in play.

From the get-go, the white player seems to have a massive advantage. They have four times the number of stones than the black player, they can move any number of hexes and they get to start. However, flanking the black stones can be rather tricky, as hexes allow for very easy chained tramplings if you're not careful. When playing with my friends, some variation on a fork proved quite successful in preventing the black player from escaping unscathed.

Mainly, the white player cannot worry about loosing a few stones, they start with so many partly because they cannot beat the black player without sacrifices and baiting some rash trampling. They should also remember that they can move over the whole board, so using the white stones nearest to the place where you're trying to flank a black stone is often suboptimal.

While it may seem that the black player must loose very quickly, their form of capturing makes them very powerful. Jumping over enemy stones on a hex board is very flexible and allows one to get out of many situations where you'd be otherwise flanked, plus if the white player places their stones carelessly, you can continue jumping and massacre their army.

On the other hand, the goal of escaping the board is quite hard unless you build your strategy around it, cleaning a space on the edge of the board from the white stones that block it, then getting all your stones on the edge quickly before the white player (who can move much further than you can) can react.

I haven't yet managed to escape with all six black stones, but I did escape with four stones several times.

You should also always play at least two rounds of this game, as it is at least in part about the necessity of very different strategies for each colour of stones, and the players should prove they can use either stones effectively.

Finally, here is a (admittedly not very good) hex board for Giantslayer that we used, if you would be interested. The second board is for Tides of War.

Dwarven Wars

A bit of backstory for IVAN, or "Why are there tunnels with minefields and monsters everywhere? And what about the kamikaze dwarves in the Cathedral?"
 

  
Dwarves were never numerous, but once upon a time, they were the greatest of all races. There used to be three mighty dwarven city-states: the Hammer, the Crown and the Anvil.

Hammer-dwarves of Kharad-durr were artificers and sorcerers known for forging objects imbued with incredible magics, from golems to enchanted weaponry. The black iron walls of their fortress-city were never breached, and military supremacy of the Hammer was unquestionable ever since the death of Xinroch. All of their arts are now lost.

Crown-dwarves of Khaz-zadm were artisans and merchants, their underground city sitting on rich mines and sprawling trade tunnels. They mined for gemstones and precious metals, then worked them into wonderful jewels and sold them for exorbitant prices. The wealth of the Crown was legendary, overshadowing even the hoards of ancient dragons. All of their treasuries are now looted.
 
Anvil-dwarves of Kharaz-arad were alchemists and scholars, their progress in the natural sciences rapid and unstoppable. Their mountain halls of concrete and steel had automated heating, lighting and ventilation, their medicinal knowledge ensured long and healthy life, and their libraries overflowed with wisdom. All of the survivors are now hiding from the world.

Dwarven golem

 
As it often is with mighty nations, their objective prominence and subjective superiority caused rivalry, envy and friction, until they came to war.

The initial struggles occurred between the Hammer and the Anvil, with the Crown adding metaphorical fuel to the flames on the scarce few pre-war diplomatic meetings, hoping to make good profit from trading with both sides once the fighting starts. Had everything gone according to their plans, they would act as a balancing force between the other two dwarven nations, making big money while the combatants exhausted themselves into insignificance. But no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy.

Hammer-dwarves had an upper hand from the very the beginning, blitzkrieging through the outer defenses and fortifications of Kharaz-arad with ease. Their golems tore apart the forts stone from stone as easily as they tore the defenders limb from limb. The Anvil recouped with dangerous alchemical concoctions and guerrilla warfare.

The golems might have been strong and barely stopped by walls, but the Anvil filled the underground with minefields and the golems crippled themselves. The soldiers of the Hammer wielded deadly weapons, so the Anvil never confronted them face to face. They were protected by enchanted armour, but what use are enchantments when the person wearing it is covered head to toe in napalm? They fought bravely, but even bravery breaks when the encampment is pumped full of mustard gas.

Slowly and with great difficulties, the Anvil pushed back against the Hammer, and the Crown-dwarves observed their progress with satisfaction, as both sides were steadily running out of resources and would soon be forced to seek outside help. They greatly underestimated the wounded militaristic pride of Kharad-durr.

The Hammer, humiliated and desperate for reclaiming their dominance, turned to whatever magic they could use. They started experimenting with necromancy, eventually placing soulsteel phylacteries of dead warriors into new golem-tech bodies, to combine the strength of the golems with the intelligence and ingenuity of the greatest dwarven heroes. These wraith-golems led armies of disposable zombies and skeletons raised right from the battlefield, unafraid of fire and immune to gas, overwhelming the minefields by sheer numbers.

And yet the Hammer-dwarves had another great breakthrough around that time - they managed to trap a spell in an implement that could then discharge the spell without the need for a mage. The first magic wands were mass produced and transformed the battlefields into death zones of flying elemental bolts and curses. They crushed the Anvil-dwarves.

Wraith-golem

 
The Crown finally entered the war at that time, terrified by the Hammer's new found powers of mass destruction enough that they firmly sided with the Anvil. A coordinated offensive of mercenary armies paid from the treasures of Khaz-zadm along with surgical strikes of the Anvil's brainwashed terrorists ready to give their lives to destroy strategically important structures forced the Hammer into retreat, cut them from supplies and prevented any further magical research.

The troops of the Hammer were routed and scattered, their hillocks and strongholds conquered. With the enemy literally before their gates, the sovereign of Kharad-durr gave order to enact their last defense - a great magical ritual that took the life of most dwarven necromancers, but raised all dead around the city as an uncontrolled undead horde, and continued to raise them again and again. The battle of Kharad-durr was long, arduous and full of unsung sacrifices, but the alliance won and the Hammer-dwarves were destroyed.

The toll that the Dwarven Wars took even on the victorious nations was enormous. Kharaz-arad was diminished, their city ruined beyond repair and much of their knowledge lost. Goblins and, after the death of Vol-Khan, even orcs saw their weakness and acted upon it, never giving the Anvil-dwarves the respite needed to recover their losses. Over the following centuries, they grew distant from the world, bitter and isolationist. It is said that only recently did they allow two foreigners, human brothers from the land of Bazzaria, to enter Kharaz-arad and learn their secret techniques of torture and brainwashing.

Even Khaz-zadm, despite their short involvement in the war, was decimated. Their coffers were running low, their mines were undermined and trade routes filled with masterless golems or worse. It was then that the last duchess of Khaz-zadm, Moonrise Stealing Dark, was approached by the high priest Petrus with an offer of charitable help. She should have known better. The mines below their city held the richest deposits of valpurian ore on the whole continent, and the high priest was well known for his avarice. His assistance turned into an invasion, and Khaz-zadm burned. Only a dark and gloomy cave remains of this dwarven fortress-city today, and the few surviving Crown-dwarves remember nothing from their past, serving Valpurus with fanatical, suicidal zeal.

Other consequences and lasting signs of the War are still present, too. Forgotten minefields, lost kamikaze dwarves who never learnt that their war is long over, necromantic radiation randomly raising undead in many places, cursed items and strange weapons stashed in long abandoned ruins and secret rooms. Folk tales and bardic songs also claim that even though the Hammer-dwarves were slaughtered and their city caved-in, the immortal lich-king of Kharad-durr survives and waits for the glorious day when his army of undead awakens again and the Hammer returns to glory.
 

One is for sure, though. No matter the heights of progress and power that the dwarves once reached, they will be remembered for the Dwarven Wars that drove them to the very verge of extinction. How the mighty have fallen indeed.