Showing posts with label Wayspell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wayspell. Show all posts

The Stones of Teufel

Lately, I've been thinking about the meaningless of reality. About the unstoppable march of entropy leading to the eventual heat death of the universe. About how void life is of meaning; the uselessness of effort.

I've also been thinking of demons, wizards, dogs and runes. Two of these I'll jam together. The other two, I'll hold for later. Let's see what the hell I'm up to:

The Stones of Teufel


Runes carved on to stones have been used for divination since magic came to the northern lands. Place them in a sack, think about your question and draw. Knowledge can then be gleaned from the results. Basic stuff that everyone knows.

However, there was one wizard who saw this as nothing more than random chance. He sought more in his divination rituals; he sought certainty. He sought knowledge unknowable. In his madness he carved the runes and inked them in his own blood. Then, from the gap beyond physical space, he drew forth twenty four shapeless consciousnesses, and bound them to the stones.

For this his name should have been remembered for all time. Instead, due to what happened next, his name has been burned from the history books. Cursed and forgotten.

The stones - or rather the consciousnesses bound to them - given form in this reality did indeed provide the accurate divination the wizard so craved, but in doing so began to learn. Began to grow.
Within the decade, the entities on the rune stones gained true sentience and with it, free will.

The stones whispered out to those nearest the wizard, tempting them into stealing the stones, and taking the stones for themselves. Promises of power, appeals of lust, or brute mental assault; these were the lures used, and, in time, the stones were stolen. Once claimed, however, the thieves found themselves patsies to, and now hosts of, the entities bound within. Through these hosts, the entities were able to take full physical manifestations.

Now calling themselves the Teufel (or "Demons" by the peasantry, as they spit and make several warding gestures), they sought nothing more than to sew fear and destruction through out the ages. Some formed cults, others played games of chess with city-states as pawns. Still others turned the weak minded into murderous psychopaths. Several groups have risen to defend against them, yet all eventually fall, the stones they took possession of returning to circulation.

Interestingly, should conflict arise between the Teufel, lines seem to be drawn along aett membership.

Listed below is overview information on the Teufel. More indepth information on each to follow as warranted. They are known to have three physical forms: that of the host, that of the Tuefel in full, and a hybrid of the two forms. While in hybrid or true form, a mark of the Teufel's rune burns dully on their skin. While the rune names are used for individual Teufel when needed, feel free to create your own by mashing the keyboard randomly, then adding random apostrophes - because fantasy names.

A smarter man would have shortened this list by aetts. I've started this and stopped, several times, overwhelmed by the amount of work I've bit off. I've learned a lot about production management and setting timing goals in writing this thing. Or, rather, I've encountered these problems. It is likely I've learned nothing from this.

Rune
   A humanoid with multisegmented legs, matted rusty fur hiding rows of barbs, an over broad head bound in a carapace and flesh with a mouth poorly stretched around two mandibles, dripping a foul viscus fluid, and two burning green eyes. Hosts tend to be wealthy individuals, whether suddenly or old money. In both host form and teufel form, any treasure given out freely is cursed. Holder of the treasure should make a Save vs Magic per hour, until the curse is triggered. Once the curse has been triggered, the treasure is no longer cursed.

Rune
   The beasts stands a foot or more higher than the host, bearing the legs and head of an ox, though the chest of human, matted in thick fur. Onyx horns grow from the side of the head, tipped in gold. Its eyes, nose and mouth constantly drip blood. The host enjoys significant increased (+4) physical attributes, significant lowered (-4) mental attributes and the ability to perform bull rush attacks. They also gain a lust for brutality.

   In an ancient age, the Mad King Tryggvason received the uruz stone as a coronation gift. Where his father's reign was known as a time of peace, his is noted for the violence and suffering forced onto the kingdom by the king. Myth states he built a hidden maze under the capital city, in which he hunted humans for sport.

Rune
   A hulking, hunched over, blue thick-scaled reptilian humanoid monstrosity, armed with five inch claws on each finger. Lighting arcs across the beast's body, occasionally leaping to near by things, allowing the host and demon to apply electrical damage to their attacks. Externally sourced electricity tends to provide healing. The host also gains a controlled and moderately uncontrollable (save based, when angered) ability to enter a Rage state.

   There is a  tale of an old man that stalks the ruins through out the Pass of the Thunder King seemingly searching for something. The old man, if encountered, will offer hospitality, but inevitably grow short in temper, casting the adventurers back out in the harsh weather of the pass. In short order, the old man summons a hulking beast and a monstrous storm to hunt down those who provided the offense. None are known to have escaped the beast. So...how do these stories get back to be told? Same way they always do.

Rune
   A speaker of honeyed words (a constant charm effect), the host form tends to have the ear of a king, general or other person of power. The transformation to teufel form involves the peeling of skin and sickening shifting of bone. The head elongates and sprouts four extra eyes, the hair melding into fleshy tendrils. Along the body further tendrils sprout. Each of these flesh stalks - including the tongue in the skull - split open on the tip, revealing a mouth. As the beast moves, the mouths whisper  secrets and taunts; lies and truths.

Rune
   The monstrosity appears as the host, but with six extra arms growing from their abdomen, multi-jointed backwards; their legs merged together, bending the wrong way around into a crude stinger tail, tipped by bone spikes generated from their feet. They crawl on their backs, neck twisted 180 degrees. Their lower jaw splits open, creating mandibles dripping with a thick green toxin. This toxin allows for a Poison attack via bite and stringer, which offers the standard Save vs Poison to resist, and causes paralysis and eventually death.

   Centuries ago, the beast ravaged a countryside, poisoning the fields and water, praying upon livestock and peasants alike. Farms were razed, meadhalls abandoned. A passing band of gallowglass heard of the destruction and sought the beast out. What they found was a maddening cave of gore and horror. Quivering sacks of flesh, pools of poison, shifting caverns that doubled back on themselves and, at the center of it all, the beast. Before confronting the monster, the leader of the men sent the survivors to find their fallen alchemist's supplies and, as he distracted the creature, bring the cave entrance down. Neither were seen again, though the land remains uninhabitable.

Rune
   Walking upon festering, cracked hoof legs; wearing thin stretched yellowy skin over a lithe frame; and having a horse skull for a head, Kaunan is the Plague that Walks. Where he walks ruin follows. Plants wilt and die, milk curdles in the teat, livestock begin to rot while still alive, peasants grow festering wounds.  Standing ten feet tall, it is capable of belching forth a cloud of disease (once per hour; 20ft radius; Save vs Poison) as well as imbuing arrows with plague (as Apollo from Greek myth; 3/day).

   Centuries ago, a strange sickness befell the small village of Krankheit. One in every three fell sick. The king, in his grace, sent his very own physician. Arriving in customary plague garb - bird mask, brim hat, overlong robe - the physician took the old town meeting building as his ward. At first, it seemed relief had finally arrived to the town. Yet, despite the efforts of the plague doctor, the plague grew worse. Or, rather, it simply grew. It spread to the live stock, the plants, the very ground. A purple, spore releasing weed slowly grew from the town hall.  And then, most disturbingly, the dead began to walk. The mass graves emptied themselves, the newly deceased rose from their sick beds. In fear, the people sought out the doctor. What they found in his stead, however, was the Kaunan tuefel.

  A sole survivor was found miles from the town, suffering and in pain. Based on the account he relayed, the king ordered a wall built around the town. Since then, the wall has been guarded by the kingsmen, and expanded out of necessity twice - to attempt to hold off the spread of the strange weed. The tuefel has not been seen since, but no one has had the steel will to journey into the town to check.

Rune
   In teufel form Gebo appears as a figure covered in pink, wet, burned-healed flesh, lacking hair, eyelids, nose, ears and nails. On occasion the skin can be seen to squirm of it's own accord. Other times - the bad times - the skin can be seen to peel away from the body in strips, exposing the leaking flesh underneath, and lashing out as if tentacles. Further, should any weapon (missile) strike the sticky wet skin, the holder of said weapon makes a Save vs Paralysis/Resist Disarm, or have the item wrenched from their hands (missiles, obviously, do not get this save). The aforementioned skin tentacles can then easily weld these weapons.

Rune
   Unlike the transformation of the other teufel that usually involve the slow and subtle changing of features, the transformation for Wunjo involves the host literally vomiting their insides up, until the expelled quivering mass of flesh inhales the remains of the host, before solidifying into a lithe form with cloak like black molting wings for arms, and a horned raven head. Black, fermented ichor spills from its mouth as it speaks. Strange parasites crawl in and out of the feathers. Those that come in physical contact with the creature suffer from a hangover, though all within 30 feet find it hard to remember the encounter later.

Exposure to the ichor causes permanent memory loss.
Exposure to the parasites bestows (on a failed save) a blood borne disease that causes uncontrolled dancing.

Rune
   While most teufel forms are fairly consistent, Hagalaz's form alters based on the dead in the surrounding area, as they crawl from their resting spot and join the collective form. Due to this, Hagalaz is typically composed of animals, however in urban areas it tends to be more humanoid form. Which ever form it takes, Hagalaz carries the ability to bestow unlife onto corpses around them, from zombie to bone golem  when fresh bodies are hard to find. Often works in conjunction with Kaunan.

Rune
   A creature of pure, twisting shadow, Naudiz is rarely encountered directly. His power, however, when encountered, is rarely forgotten. The teufel is able to bend light and shadow to form the most believable illusions, showing the victim their greatest fears, pried from the depths of their very souls. So fine is its control over the illusions that it can show one adventurer an image of their mother peeling her own skin off before disemboweling herself while never losing her ever widening smile, whilst the rest of the party watches helplessly in imaginary chains as the original party member is swallowed whole by a (real??) flesh worm.

Rune
  Appearing as a Large, vaguely humanoid form of solid ice, save for the host trapped frozen within, Isaz is a slow moving force of nature.  Any water based substance that touches (including blood) freezes instantly, allowing for an increasing of mass and change in shape relatively easily. As an abomination of ice, fire does time and a half damage in both teufel and host form. Not exactly known for it's ability for independent thought, Isaz is often used as muscle in the plans of other teufel. The host is given little consideration.

Rune
   On first sight, Jera appears to be the host from the waist up, and a large, swollen locust from the waist down. Though, on a closer, more awful, second look, they're revealed to be entirely composed of locusts, of various size and colors, squirming and crawling over one another. At will, the teufel can explode into a swarm and control said swarm with full proficiency, and can strip a corpse of all flesh in mere moments. When in this state, Jera attacks as though a breath weapon (save or be bit for 1d8), and can only be damaged by area effects.

Rune
   Often confused for a Bla-Maor of the southern Highsunlands by the untraveled peasantry, Ihwaz appears as a bald, muscular, figure standing seven feet tall with deep obsidian skin and glowing red eyes. It rarely speaks, and prefers being hosted by mutes, but when it does it speaks in a voice as deep as stone slap sliding over burial vaults. Ihwaz grants the ability to cast and read the runes with complete accuracy, however all divinations are grim and of ill portent. Consider it a Bestow Curse [Pretty Fucked] if you're needing more detailed mechanics.

Rune
   Appearing as a floating sack of flesh with a subliming form and trailing, elongated arms, the body doted with a plurality of eyes, and a maw lined with needle teeth, Pertho allows the host to summon spirits of the dead, and compel them to speak. With this ability, the teufel has formed many cults through out the ages, tempting the followers with ability to speak to lost ones once more.

Rune
   Standing a noble seven feet tall, Algiz appears as a humanoid covered in short brown fur with a deer's head, the antlers of which are shedding and bloody. A flame burns eternal between the antlers, yet produces no heat and only the faintest of light. Those posessed by it gain access to magical abilities  and arcane knowledge (+3 level). They also gain the desire to wear nothing but fine magical robes.

   Little is known of Algiz, as it prefers to work behind the scenes, in support of other teufel plots.

Rune
   The host's hair burns away as scales erupt from their skin, their legs elongating and forming a twelve foot tail. The eyes are completely replaced with fire. A ridge of bony spines runs from the base of the neck to the tip of the serpentine tail. The upper torso, besides the scales and spines remains mostly the same. Anything the teufel touches takes fire damage; parchment burns, metal heats up hot enough to brand, leather...does whatever leather does when heated. Smells delicious? Weakens it, surely. Further more the teufel is immune to said fire, and even has some control over nearby fire sources (as thematically appropriate). The cold, however, strikes at his heart doing damage and a half again.

   Some scribes attest that the burning of the Knowledgehoard of Wissenstadt - famed for being the largest collection of human works of art, literature and research - to a failed attempt by the Brothers of the Sworn at exercising a pyromancer bound to sowilo, in order to imprison the teufel and secure the stone. Along with hundreds of lives, many rare secrets were lost that night, as the collections of scrolls and codices provided fuel for the raging fires.

Rune
   Ill doom falls upon the community in which Tiwaz takes residence. Magic falters, artisans lose their passion, the common folk become disinterested in their various duties. Continued contact with the teufel imposes cumulative penalties to Mental attributes as minds dull, communication becomes difficult, cleverness is lost (only restored via Remove Curse).  As the small folk don't tend to be strong in the mental functions, towns soon devolve into roaming hordes of angry, grunting thugs.
 
   In transformation, the hosts body twists like a washrag, with all of their limbs splitting in two, gaining length and ending in spikes. Despite being elongated and wrapped around its head, the teufel suffers no hindrance in sight or speech.

Rune
   While the host is always a striking lovely young woman, the teufel appears with a broad, eight-eyed, four mandible mouth full of barbs, on an eight limbed body. The four limbs not shared by the host end in the needle sharp points, and gore webs between each of the limbs.
   In host form, it fully understands the power its physical attributes carry, and will use them in full to carry out its plans. In teufel form, it is fond of lounging in a web of arms and tormenting victims trapped in cocoons of flesh, through injecting them with venom and slowly, agonizingly melting their insides to eventually be drank.
   While rare, on occasion the host can become pregnant. When carried to full term and excreted from her flesh womb, the spawn almost always come out wrong. Too short limbs, tails, tiny horns - all possible deformities. There has only ever been one to come out perfect and passable for human, and he is her Favorite.

   Should she ever find herself in dire straits and at least one of her less favorite children be alive in the world, she need only climb into her armweb, which can then fold in on itself, smaller and smaller, into a singularity. The armweb, and her, will then erupt violently from the offspring, killing it and making a general mess of the area.

Rune
    Gifts the host with extreme speed, but also curses them with a short temper and the ability to be summoned by Mannaz. When in demon form, the host's skin splits and peels away as Ehwaz crawls out, a skeletal horse with eight legs and constantly on fire (has resistances like skeletons). Burning hoof prints mark the ground upon which it walks. Fire belches forth from the bone jaws (Breath Attack, every 1d4 rounds).

   When mounted by Mannaz, Ehwaz gains several additional abilities. Fire solidifies into armor on the skeletal flanks, burning any whom might touch it (save Mannaz) and providing protection. Bull like goring horns burst forth from the horse skull, allowing for an additional attack. Liquid fire drools from the mouth of the horse.

Rune
   Appearing as the host, but with rotten and decaying skin, blood maggots swimming in and out of the flesh. Mannaz, however, when in teufel form, prefers to don bone plate armor over its horrific visage - the suit always having a helm of a human skull fused with ram horns. The teufel bears attack progression as a fighter, and when in the bone plate can sacrifice pieces to force the opponent to reroll damage. On a critical hit, Mannaz has a chance of stealing a bone from the target and replacing the missing piece (through a failed Save vs Magic, obviously). When pieces are missing, however, he gains the ability to attack using the blood maggots, which very much want to burrow into the heart of whom ever they land on. Failed save victims have 1d3+2 rounds before the maggots get to the heart to drink up all the blood within.

Rune
   The head of the host takes the form of a cephalopod with over large eyes and ten tentacles, two of which are three times as long as the rest, encircling a barbed filled mouth, that constantly oozes a thick viscus substance. The body is covered in chromatophores allowing for a Skilled blending into the environment (5-in-6). When in a panic, Laguz can expel a thick cloud of nauseating ink, that both blinds and hinders it's opponents. Further, while uncomfortable, the host has the ability to breathe underwater.

   While not known for one specific event, Laguz tends to take a pleasure in hired killing, considering it a form of art. Perhaps the truest form. Hosts tend to be already skilled assassins. The last known host was rumored to be Longshot Cecil, a member of the Rocktown Assassin's Guild.

Rune
   A bloated, hulking, malformed toad of a thing standing ten feet tall, with gelatinous rolls of fat, hunched shoulders, and pale sickly skin constantly dripping with mucus. A neckless head bears a hinged bullfrog mouth full of needle teeth that is capable of swallowing a small calf whole and two eyes larger than melons. What makes Ingwaz truly terrible, however, are the pox marks covering its back. Evidence of the thinly scab sealed puss sacks underneath it, each mark is an exit point for a one inch, plump, tendriled worm, which, when introduced into the cranial cavity of a host, proceeds to grow its tendrils into the nerves of the host, soon gaining control over them.

Rune
   Appearing as an androgynous humanoid with alabaster skin and a face void of features, save for a ring of cataract filled, lazy dead eyes that encircle the head. While the eyes are physically incapacitated, they offer the host/teufel normal vision in 360 degrees, albeit colorless. Although Othila floats a couple feet off the ground, as touching said ground would sully Othila, it lacks actual capacity for flight. In the rare instance it chooses to speak, it's shrill voice seems to come from within the listener's head.
   While playing host to this stone, the host gains a wealth of arcane and forgotten knowledge, though lucidity may be an issue.

   In the times when prophecy and divination come in fashion, one may find the Brothers of the Poisoned Eye lurking in major cities. Appearing as a social club, they are actually a cult in service to Othila, worshiping it as a deity and, in exchange for their devotion, the teufel teaches the followers the art of divination.

Rune
   A figure of pure light, Dagaz offers the host the ability to see into other realities, even though the way be traditionally blocked. From this the host can glean knowledge of people they couldn't otherwise have, using this (giving bonuses) to persuade or intimidate the target. This ability may also be weaponized. On a successful touch, and failed save by the target, the target is filled with glimpses of other realities. Visions of their infinite failures and uncountable insignificance flood the mind of the target, staggering/stunning them for 1d3 rounds. On a critical and failed save, the target is driven to suicide because, after all, what does it matter? What does anything matter?

Variants 


While I'm personally against its usage, if you're of lesser moral character, you could use the blank stone:

Rune:
   While not actually a rune stone, some sets of lesser integrity hold a blank stone to represent the unknown or unforeseeable. While this seems in contrast to the nature of a divination tool, the set used all those centuries ago contained one. Through dual slit irises, its eyes glow softly with the color of void. Its voice echos with the sounds of burning suns and existential probability. This teufel has only ever had one host, who, upon binding the other teufels to stone, set out to burn his name from existence. In his presence probability and chances tend to alter. Sure Things tend to become Far Shots, and One in a Million Chances happen Nine Times Out of Ten.

Another potential variation is instead of voluntary possession caused by whispered temptations, the stones act as Magic Jars, forcing the hosts out of their bodies and trapping within the stones. How awful would it be to watch the hulking horror melt into an ectoplasm covered old man, who proceeds to vomit up a strange stone, just as the tank screams in pain and begins arcing lightning off themselves? Very much, that is how awful.

Originally, the thought was to have these demon bound to tarot cards, but then flavors and ideas changed. Using that idea is simple enough, however. The above demons are bound to the Major Arcana, while the Minor Arcana is host to minor demons without names. These minor demons provide bonuses to the host based on the card value (divided by 4, round up) and to the attribute represented by the suit.
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Echoes of the North

I have stood on those niflon shores. I have stood in their silence - the silence of the Dead - and added my own, with only the whispering of the wind and crashing of the frozen waves daring to break it. It was there on those shores that I set your mother adrift, my child, as I have for my mother and father, and, hopefully, one day you shall for me. Wrapped in otter furs, I sent her to swim with the dead. And dead the sea truly is, for it bears the Cold, void of Heat. 

I have stood on those shores, and watched as barbed tentacles coiled around your mother cold, dragging her body under. I stood, and I smiled, for the gods had accepted her. 




Far to the North, past the lands of Berserker Kings, in the shadows of ruined towers once held by Ice Wizards, several barbarian tribes make the frozen wastes their homes. Life there is harsh and, more often than not, miserable. The ground is too hard for crops, the temperature too harsh to support them. Trees are rare. Most flora is moss, heath and lichen. Fauna must insulate themselves in thick furs or blubber. Those that live, anyway.

Culture amongst the tribes is fairly similar to one another, having been forged out of necessity for survival, and pivot around two spiritual points:
  • That which is Cold, is Dead
  • That which is Warm, is Alive
Unlike the beliefs held in the southern lands, that attempt to claim mystical beings and explanations, these beliefs are observable. Animals and people produce heat until felled, then they grow cold. This produces several implications:

The Sea Is Death
When one falls into the sea, submerged within the frozen waters, they too will die, least you dry them and encourage heat to return. Those that dwell within it, unless they bear the protection of fur, are dead. Fish, when drawn from the waters, are icy cold and therefore are dead. Otters, seals and the like have fur, and bear Warmth. Though the Cold will overwhelm them eventually.

The Gods are Dead
Lurking in the frozen waters are horrible things. Tentacled things. Things that once vomited forth the ambergris they carved humanity from. Things that now send their servants into the fishing nets, providing food. Things that whisper forgotten, dark secrets to witches in their dreams. Things that watch over the dead, sent back to the sea. Things cold. Things dead. Things that are gods.

Fire is Alive
How can it not be? Fire grows, fire moves, fire consumes, fire reproduces. Fire is warm. When fire grows cold, it dies. Just as all living things do. Families within the tribes keep fire, not just out of necessity, but as a pets, much how the southern folk keep hounds. When travelers go about, they carry with them a lantern lit from the hearth fire of home; a faithful travelling companion and helpful assistant on the road.

It Might Seem Like It, But Cooking is Not Necromancy
In order for life to continue, it must consume other life. This is why we hunt the animals of the land. The fish of the sea too we hunt, for we can briefly impose life upon it through the cooking arts. This life is a true one, however, it will soon fade should it now be consumed in time. Our methods defer from the lichcalling of the Old Kings, for their works bore no Warmth, and were but mockeries.

Notice that last line, did you?

The tribesmen hold a deep seated, ingrained hatred for most things magical - Sorcerers especially, given their nature. And for good reason. Their oral tradition (literacy is too close to magic) tells of a time when the Old Kings - the Ice Wizards - held sway over the land, and tormented the people in their cruel grasp. Some were forced to work, some experimented upon, some were made to fight as amusement. All were enslaved. The people toiled and the people died, however Death was not the release it is meant to be. The Old Kings, with their dark magics, invited the Cold into the bodies of the fallen, filled them with a false life and sent them forth once more, often to oppress and subjugate their former loved ones. These bodies knew not Warmth.

And so the people suffered for uncounted generations, until one man, Matthias the Flame, backed by three witches, took up arms and struck back against the Kings. The support of these witches, and the fact they speak to the Gods, as well as hold the oral traditions themselves, may explain why witches are uneasily accepted within the tribes. Well, tolerated. On the edges of settlements. It may also explain why witches are honored with wood, a rare and much needed necessity, enough so as to built their strange "chicken legged" huts.

A Northern Witches Hut

The barbarians themselves, though, are semi-nomadic. In the Months of Long Light (summer to you and me), they live in large, transportable tents, clad in hides and furs, following the herds of deer. In the Months of Dwindling Light, they return to their cities of half buried earthen long houses, and take to fishing as the herds fatten on the grasses left to wild. In the Months of Long Night, the herds are brought into the long houses, to share their warmth and milks.

Most barbarian equipment is made of bone and leather. Time honored traditions teach how to hone a bone to a fine edge, just as sharp as any metal blade found in the southernlands. An alchemical oil mixture, made by the witches, can be applied via soaking or rubbing to strengthen the bone to be just as hard. Though through far wandering and trading, metal equipment is not unheard of.  

So, why not leave these awful lands and head to the South, where the very land itself is alive? Simple, that land isn't theirs. The ancestors overthrew the Old Kings, and claimed the as their own. They then passed it down to the current generation. To abandon it would be to devalue the suffering of the ancestors.

Some of the modern youth, however, do take to exploring down in the Southernlands.


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More on the Erdgeist

I've had a request for more information on the Erdgeist. I find this a bit strange as, while they are essentially gnomes, they are meant to be horrible monsters. They are not the same as the other races, hardly even related to the Hulder. With that in mind, I attempted to make them different not just in fluff, but in mechanics, in an effort to show how alien they are. They're basically a forced combination of race and class - they were after all only suppose to be GM controlled creatures (specifically Mooks for Huldra), but you monsters drove me to dignify their existence.

The Erdgeist


Your first lullaby was the scratching of digging claws from passing creatures. Your mother's milk was the water you suckled straight from the roots of a plant. Your first memories are those formed when you first took conscienceness within the mud womb, and decided it was time to be born. Your "brothers" and "sisters" are those that also crawled from their holes in the ground around the same time you did. Your "parent" was the first Erdgeist that found and collected you, giving you tasks to perform.

You are an entity unto yourself. No family you have, as the mortal races would see it. From a moist hole in the ground you crawled, and to a moist hole in ground you hope to return once your body is weak and broken. Every fiber of your being urging you to serve Huldufolk. Through service you find neither oppression nor freedom, but rather meaning. As long as your hands stay busy, and your mind full, you hold off the Boredening - your fall into Goblinhood. This is critical, for once it starts, there is no undoing the process.

Unfinished Work is as a piercing, ear splitting siren to you. Tasks are meant to be completed, crafts are meant to be smithed. As such, in this new world, Human settlements, specifically the cities, are cacophonies of torturous bedlam, unlike the idealic symphonies of Huldra settlements attune with the workings of your ilk. Because of this there have been reports of human villages being swarmed at night by Erdgeist; clattering, ratterling, plucking and picking, cleaning and scouring all that needs it, leaving yarn spun, shoes cobbled and kitchens cleaned in their wake - albeit with causalities sustained to pets and sleeping children. Materials were needed after all.

To your ears, dwarrow settlements are a low hum, and the woodwose produce no sound at all.

Most beautiful to your ears, however, are the Words of the Hulder. For their most addictive of voices, you would do anything they command, no matter how dangerous or insane.  Though, their voice is not the only that you know. Through no conscience effort of your own, when in proximity of a native speaker of a language, that language is known to you. This service extends even unto the animals of the air and wilds. Fish, obviously, have no language.

As a creature of Productivity, an undeniable hatred for Urisks pumps through your veins. While Mortals often confuse your two kinds (As you do with humans and those tree dwelling creatures...what are they?...oh, "birds".) there is a very real and striking difference. The Urisk take to Lounging at streams and waterfalls, and offer no domestic help, but often steal or beg for their food. Disgusting things.

Further, as a creature of Productivity, crafting comes natural to you. While not as consistent as the dwarrows, you are able to produce items of stunning quality, with even the slightest of training. In Otherworld, these items were permanent. However, in this new reality, such items do not survive long after your death.

Speaking of your death, traditionally when your body was weak and broken from a life time well spent in service, you would find a nice hole in the ground and crawl in for your reward. Now though, in this strange new world of violence and sleep, when you fall, if left alone, your body will decay and strange mushrooms will crop up in a ring. The commoners have taken to superstitiously burn these rings, for fear of what will grow.

Also of note is your ilk, like the Huldra, sleep standing up, as sleeping while laying down invites death.

The Stats


  • Unable to resist Commands (per spell) given by any Hulder, even through magics.
  • In times of boredom, or idleness, must make a Personality Save vs Boredom. Failure results in a cumulative -1 to Personality score. Upon reaching Personality 4, the Goblinization process begins. 
  • Being a resident of Otherworld, your mind is built differently and, due to which, enchantments do not affect you. 
  • Any Erdgeist with <= Strength 7 gain Levitate Object level times per day. Just because you can't lift a thing, doesn't mean you ignore the order to retrieve it. 
  • When within (level * 10)feet of a natural speaker of a language, you too can speak that language. Should they move out of range, you lose the ability to speak the language. You retain no knowledge of the language. Within the company of other Erdgeist, your native language is a combination of clicks and whistles. 
  • When joining an adventuring group, you must designate one other member as your Master. You should then seek to serve them and fulfill their wishes. To willfully deny a direct order, carries the penalty of a cumulative -1 to your Personality score. To willfully refuse to take a Master carries the same penalty, but applied per day.   
  • You do not benefit from Mooks. You are the Mook. 
Level 1
  • Master Craftsman - Choose a crafting skill. You now gain a rank per level in that skill. Further more, once per level you may generate a masterwork item in the skill. Should you perish through age or violence, the object begins to degrade quickly. Weaves unravel, beer curdles, iron works dull and rust; all becoming unusable. Any spell targeting the item affects the Erdgeist as well. 
  • Gerry Rig - Given at least some time and vaguely the correct tools, you can repair a thing to working condition for Personality Bonus days. If the bonus is zero or negative, the time becomes fraction of a day. After the time passes, or first usage, the item breaks once more and needs to be repaired properly. 
Level 2
  •  Torchbearer - With a moment of concentration (standard action, if this is a factor), you may summon Swiftness number of floating orbs of light. They give off the dim glow of a standard torch and may be directed anywhere within 50 ft of you. They last roughly an hour. 
  • Strong Back - You gain level number inventory slots, as long as the items carried within are your Master's. 
Level 3
  • Transmutation - Given the proper focus (say, a spinning wheel) you may change one mundane substance (say, hay) into another (say, gold thread). This transformation, however, only lasts until the sun crosses the horizon. 
  • Helping Hands - To better assist in their tasks, the Erdgeist may create smallmen (think tiny homunculus) from rocks, sticks, children skulls, radishes, or anything else on hand. They won't fight, but have two inventory slots. Any damage they take, you take, and you can only make Vigor bonus number of them. They remain animated for one day, before the magic consumes the component parts. 
Level 4
  • Treasure Keeper - To better watch over your Master's treasure, you may place it into a nice sturdy vessel, like a pot. This vessel then acts like a Bag of Holding, but specifically for coin. You may only have one at a time. 
  • Chthonic Sympathies - With concentration you may detect the presence of valuable stones within 50 ft of you, Intelligence bonus times per day. 
Level 5
  • Immaterial Made Manifest - To better serve your Master, you may play host to entities on the Ethereal plane, potentially gleaning some of their knowledge. 
  • Hinzelmann's Homing - Should your Master ever misplace or lose an object of their ownership, you, the good servant, can take a few moments of concentration to know instinctively the direction and distance of the object. While arrows and items sold don't count, items stolen and daggers stabbed into the hide of a rare beast do. Tracking. I'm suggesting if you do it right, you can track a creature. Almost perfectly, without regard for terrain.  

So, yes, there it is. Clarification on how classes work will soon follow. Probably.

Enjoy being a Mook. 

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Random Encounters in the Tavalinen Sea

My current leafwrit is taking longer than expected, so to keep activity up, I offer a list of random encounters for adventuring on the Tavalinen Sea.

1d30

  1. A camp of the Wagonfolk, offering trade and rest. But are they what they seem? Yeah, probably. But are they?
  2. A stampede of Dire Bison
  3. Tick bite. Roll for disease (1d6: 1. Blood fever, 2. Lycanthrope, 3. Head broken off in skin, 4. Allergy to meat, 5. Skin fever, 6. Just an itchy bump) 
  4. Cultists around one of the mysterious monoliths. Doin' something evil, I bet. 
  5. A mammoth skull from which an ancient voice echoes within the characters' minds, demanding vengeance.
  6. 1d12 giraffes humming to themselves in the dusk of the plains. Does the air feel...thicker? Soon bats begin to sing, joining in the choir. 
  7. A half-orc on a coming of age spirit quest. 
  8. As 7, but the beast he is hunting has begun to hunt him. 
  9. Quicksand! The horses and wagons are stuck, and in threat of spilling. 
  10. Thick smoke on the horizon, leading back to a raided town. 
  11. Is that some sort of thunder lizard?
  12. A maiden is bathing in hot springs by moonlight. Wait...no, not a maiden. Her head is on backwards and there's blood on her fangs.
  13. A group of riders is chasing down a man. The riders claim he is a criminal. The man claims they're bandits. 
  14. Witches dancing in the full moon.
  15. Wizards picnicking in the noonday sun. 
  16. Bootleggers being chased into the depths by local law.
  17. An active still being tended by corpses.
  18. An active still being tended by goblins. The concoction is highly flammable. As is the surrounding grass, mind you.
  19. The ruins of nameless forgotten city, nearly reclaimed entirely by nature. What treasures or strange idols sleep within?
  20. Pajaki war party
  21. A half burried box. What's in it? (d6: 1. Coin 2. Mold covered scrolls 3. Hope 4. Ancient plague 5&6. Nothing.)
  22. A big god damn snake! 
  23. Heat strokes pretending to be a hookah smoking, vest wearing ferret with bifocals.
  24. Trip on a rock. Nice job.
  25. A memorial stone with weathered inscription 
  26. Large floating human head that vomits lighting from its can't filled mouth.
  27. A nest of Thunderbirds
  28. A man digging up dead bodies. "Mind your own business!"
  29. A river. How are they to cross? 
  30. A sign post which as been knocked over. The signs pointing to the next towns hang limp. Which way was which?

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The Huldufolk and Otherworld Creatures


Elves. Tolkien's overpowered, "we came all this way just to let Isildur walk off with the McGuffin, and did nothing about it" saps who refuse to share boats for the most childish of reasons. My displeasure of them is known. I also waggle a finger at Lord Dunsany's version. Albeit, less so.

But never mind that. Ignore it completely. These things don't suffer from the human condition, so why should they mock us with their human traits? Most settings describe them as "fey like." Why? Throw your hat over the wall. Go all in. Make these things the monsters the old stories make them out to be.

With that in mind, and a fifth of tequila in hand, I offer:


The Huldufolk

Some times written as "the Hulder", or "the Huldra" by illiterate peasants ("Huldra" already meaning "The Hulder"),  these creatures are, to put it simply, "not from here." Nearly one millennium ago, a night of strange absurdity poetically remembered as the Great Sigh, saw the entrance of the Hulder into the world as pockets of Reality were torn asunder, and hastily patched. Strangely, however, little damaged was invoked. Oh, sure, towns were halved as chunks of another world forced their way in, but actual damage was minimum. Instead of the smith being next door, just feet away, his shop was now half a mile or more, through a strange and sweet smelling forest of hardwood mushrooms.

Mortals have learned little about what brought chunks of the other reality, "Otherworld" to humans and "Huldreheimen" to the Hulder, into their own. For the most part, the Elders, who's strong magics held chunks of their world together, refuse to speak of the cause of the incident. What they will speak of is beholding Seas of Mathematics, Mountains of Inverse, Forests of Time and other impossibilities as their reality shifted, the skies burning with arcane sigils.


Physicalities

While Huldra look similar to humans, they are most assuredly not. Standing an average of five and a half feet, slightly pointed ears, two arms, two legs, skin ranging from alabaster to olive to ebony. Standard affair.  Were things begin to diverge, and what people usually first notice upon meeting an Hulder is their eyes: Gold, silver or red irises, a corresponding glow, and nictitating membranes. The membranes, when closed, reduces normal vision, but allows for the seeing of ghosts. It also has produced the strange rumor that the Hulder do not sleep. They do, just with the over lids open.

Also usually noticed is their tails, typically fox or cow in nature. Not usually noticed (unless you're one of them perverts and get in the skins with one) is their hollow back. Where a human would have a spine, they have a cavity, reminiscent of a hallow log. Not the best to look at. Kind of gross, actually. Don't try and put things in it.

The differences don't end at simply the physical level. Being of alien origin, their minds are built around a different architecture that the mortals and, in short, work differently. While their conclusions are sound, their logic is absurd. Two plus three equals five not because there are five units total, but because two concede favor in the presence of three to whisper rumors of six, yet we must remove one for our favored daughter who is yet to be. Somehow this works for them. What this means, however, is that enchantments have a hard time effecting the Hulder. Further, their Personality is awkward to mortals, and tends to act as a bane.

Their actual architecture (building wise) borders on and crosses the line of impossible, most notably for their lack of euclidean space. They're not fans of Minkowski space either, as time and space become distorted. Some structures can be built plainly on a hill, but only seen or entered after walking widdershins three times around said hill. Adventures can feast for a single night in their halls and (allegedly) awaken the next morning to find a century has passed in the normal world.

Life cycle 

Huldra are born the same way as any other creature: they're found as babies on the dew covered leaves, wrapped in gossamer blankets. Taken in by who ever finds them, the child is cared for without second thought, as Huldufolk communities aren't in the habit of want.

They soon come to adulthood in a mere one hundred and fifty years. Their days are spent in the pursuit of learning and pleasure. Hunting is often taken as a pass time, with younglings learning to stalk and track through the hardwood mushroom forests, and now, into the surrounding "normal" country side. Charcoal burning has become a popular manner of interest, as of late.

Where death was unknown in their previous realm, in this one they are stripped of their immortality, and are reduced to simply agelessness. In this reality, violence and disease have been introduced into their experience and wordstock. However, there's no place for them to go. Mortals move on, assumedly, to their various afterlives, while Huldra have none to speak of. Instead, their spirits linger as ghosts, while their bodies decay into mushrooms and trees. On the rarest of occassions, these ghosts can be glimpsed in the morning light. Mingling as gossamer in the fog of dawn.  

These ghosts linger for an indeterminate amount of time but, inevitably, grow tired. Drawn by what few memories they have left, they return to the woods, and find rest on the soft dewy leaves. From there, their fates are unknown.

Playing One of the Huldrufolk

While I'm against using Huldra as PCs at the moment, here are some notable stats in case you decide otherwise. You maverick. 
  • Personality (c) 13+ - once per day - command Gnome (no save)
    • Gnomes were/are servants 
  • Dex 15+ - once per day dimension door
  • Save vs Death when confronted with sadness
    • Mortally wounded by sadness
  • Ringing of iron bells stuns them
  • Dex must be higher than Con, Personality (w)
    • Huldra are lithe and agile, but frail and their minds are built different
  • Personality bonus is treated as negative when interacting with non-Faerie creatures in a social setting. Their mannerisms and social cues are entirely different than what mortals are use to. 
  • Glowing eyes make stealth impossible, but the second eyelids allow for ghost sight. 
  • Resistant to enchantments, as your alien mind works on a different architecture. 


The Erdgeist

Also called "gnomes" by the unwashed masses who seem to insist on commenting about every damn thing I type, the Erdgeist are short creatures, roughly knee height. Their entire existence is one of servitude to the Huldra. Not slavery, mind you, but service. It is this service that gives them purpose in their lives. Think English butler with a loose grasp of reality or morals. As such, they are unable to resist a command issued by a Hulder, even through magic.

In their role of servants, the gnomes have the strange ability to speak any language, as long as they are in proximity to a native speaker. This includes both the language of the Hulder and the speech of animals. In times of solitude, they speak their own native tongue, which is largely composed of clicks and whistles. Further in their role, the Erdgeist are quick and quality learners, able to take up masterwork craft with but the basic of instruction.

The Erdgeist aren't so much born, as they crawl out of a hole and report for work. When their bodies have grown weak and frail, they turn in their uniforms and crawl back into a hole. Assuming they don't goblinize first, that is. Within the confineds of the new reality, a gnome must be cosntantly entertained, be it through riddles, craft or service; otherwise, they begin an agonizing and irreversible transmutation into a goblin. Sort of like the Isz from the Maxx.

More info on them here.

Goblins

Goblins, a name give by common folk, as it was in this reality in which they first appeared, are the corrupted form of a Erdgeist which has succumbed to boredom. Prone to random violence and acts of destruction, goblins lust for chaos. The craftlores they once held as gnomes become corrupt within their fractured minds and all quality is lost. In the rare moment a light of skill shine through, it's still shown through a dust covered stain glass. Where a gnome would craft a blade of polished silver with etched details, a goblin hammers out rusted iron, chipped and dented, even before use. Over all just shitty and not worth blundering.

But, there is some reasoning to this quick production, other than laziness and loss of talent, as their numbers constantly swell. Goblins have the ability to heal from almost any wound, but, sometimes, instead of the wound growing shut, it begins to grow a new goblin. Severed arms grow new bodies. Hatchet wounds in necks grow new heads, sharing the same frame with the old. The numbers swell in haste, and the new goblins must be armed! Armed so that the glory of violence can spread!

There are also the Brood Mothers, but they are best left mentioned for another time.

The Fae

"Fae" or wyldfae -  A broad term that can be applied to the creatures that inhabit the Faelands of Faerie (basically "the woods" or wild areas of Huldreheimen). In this instance, however, it specifically refers to what can be equated to the wildlife of that other world. Brownies, nixie, pixies, nymphs; the list goes on and on. While some do appear humanoid and are capable of speech, they are little more than animals to the Hulder and Erdgeist. Since the Great Sighing, the creatures have spread out into the new reality, causing the utmost confusion and trouble amongst the mortals.

There is rumor that the Fae all yield to a "Faerie King," but such notion is absurd. It would make as much sense as there being a King of Dogs. (Dogs, after all, use an imperial system).

The Erlking

The fabled Faerie King, ruler of the wilds of Otherworld, the Erlking stands an impressive nine feet tall. Though rarely seen out of his antler helm, his face is rumored to bear a wild nobility with hair as tangled as underbrush. A cloak of enchanted fur hangs from his shoulders, and a crown of golden flowers hangs from his belt. His voice is that of a rock avalanche. His hall is the thickest part of the woods, where neither Huldra nor adventurers have dared to go.

Of children, he has many, though all daughters they be. It is they who lead the nightly dance deep in the Faelands; a ceremony to ensure that the night continues until dawn. Lacking a male heir, the Erlking rides the roads closest to his kingdom, seeking to steal away sons from unsuspecting travelers.

It is rumored the Erlking was once a human named King Herla who, in fulfilling an oath to a Hulder King, became trapped within the Otherworld. This is troublesome, as the Earlking has been in power long before the Great Sighing. 

Nevertheless, human or faerie, he leads the ritual of the Wild Hunt based on a complicated lunar schedule. 

The Wild Hunt

The Erlking leads the ritual hunt from atop a mount of pure myth and terror, accompanied by his faithful Blood Hound (note: not bloodhound), and swarms the country side looking for game worthy of the Erlking's attention. Sometimes adventurers fall in the path of the Wild Hunt. In times like this they're offered a simple choice: "Hunt or be hunted." Should they choose to join, they are expected to uphold the honor and integrity of the hunt. Should they refuse...well, at least they were worthy of the King's attention.

Of what this ritual symbolizes, many have guessed, few have learned. Some think it to be celebrating the passing of the year, but time is not the same in Otherworld. Some years the Hunt occurs twice, some years not at all.
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People of the Plains

Out in the Tavalinen Sea, a rolling plain of purple leafed grass, you'll find two nomadic groups of people: The Vapara and the Pijaki. While they travel the same "sea", they rarely come into contact, or desire to, as their routes often take them in separate directions. There have been known encounters between the two, however it rarely goes well for the Vapara.

Vapara

Also known as the Wagonfolk, the Vapara are a culture of largely human traders and merchants. Traveling in covered wagons, often brightly painted with strange murals reflecting the many stories they collect,  they skirt the edges of the Tavalinen Sea, connecting the "Port" towns and cities along it in a system of trade. While they're certainly not the only traders out there, they are the most well known.

Often seen as thieves and dirty, and accused of stealing children, they actually hold to strict hierarchical traditions, strict hygiene habits, and hold no prejudges in race when taking in orphans.

Gender Roles
Much of Vapara life is separated based on gender. Males hold public authority, while females are the head of a household. Men are typically the producers, seeing the construction and toolage, while the women are the upkeepers, giving to cleaning and preparing. In business, males tend to trade for other items, while females will sell outright for coin. It is thought women are more inclined to mystical arts (fortune telling, speaking with spirits, etc) while men tend to the material arts (song, brewing, etc).

Hierarchy
Traditionally, a band (or Vappania) of Vapara consists of ten to fifty extended families, and is lead by a Voivode, or "chieftain" for the cruder tongue. The Voivode is selected for life, and is assisted by a Phuri Dai - typically the Eldest woman of the Vappania. Whenever two or more bands find themselves in the same city, the Voivodes will hold council, usually to trade news and rumors (as well as to over drink in peace). All Voivodes, upon taking the station, swear fealty to the ancient, one true King of the Vapara - Johnny Faa.

Clothing and Style
The Vappania, both men and women, wear bright colors, often yellows and reds, and loose, flowing clothing. Women always wear dresses or full skirts, as bifurcation would be inappropriate. Men wear baggy pants, loose fitting shirts and large belts. Both wear jewelry, women fashioning gold, men silver. Though, men wear substantially less jewelry than women. In some of the more prudish cultures the Wagonfolk encounter, Vapara women are seen as lustful or seductive. This do to the held belief that the upper body is clean, and is fine to expose, while the lower body is dirty, for obvious biological reasons. The Woodwose don't see the issue.

Religion
While the Vapara do not worship a god, as they have "no king before Johnny Faa", they do hold themselves to a list of taboos, and acknowledge the importance of Faa's first consort Laxshi, Mistress of Wealth. As well, they pay homage and respect to the gods of the culture they are currently surrounded by. To do other wise would be the sign of a poor guest.

While they don't hold to any gods, they do have a handful of superstitions.

  • Pure should not be contaminated by unpure. 
    • This includes cursing. Vapara men are forbidden from cursing. Women, having a natural cycle of unpurity, are allowed leeway and, if really worked up, can generate some of the most sailor blushing curses heard.
    • This also includes not drinking from the same water source as an animal that cleans itself (dog, cat). Drinking from the same water source as a horse or oxen is fine, as they do not lick their genitals. Strangely, it has come up.  
    • A note should be drawn between "unpure" and "honest dirt." "Honest dirt" is gained through work and duty, though should still be cleansed, while "unpurity" happens through blood shed or sickness. 
  •  A lucky charm is good to have
    • A member of the Wagonfolk always has on them a lucky charm. Be it a four leaf clover, a rock with a hole, an iron nail, or nearly any other small carry-able object. (Doesn't take an inventory slot, if this is in question)
  • The hooting of an owl and the screaming of a falling tree are ill omens.
    • Care should be taken, and ears covered, least your soul be taken or the death screams drive you mad
  • Bird droppings falling upon you is good luck
    • this may be a joke created to screw with outsiders
  • The lost and dying should be taken in, and given comfort. 
Stats
  • Any Wagonfolk failing a Save of any sort, may instead lose their Good Luck Charm to ignore the result. Without the Charm however, the character takes -2 to all rolls until a new one is gained. Gaining a new charm should be a task and trial, not just simply "herp, derp, a neat stick, done."
  • Any wearing over 10,000 gold in jewelry gain +2 to Personality(c) when interacting with other Vapara. 
  • Any with Personality(w) of 13+ playing with a tarot has 1 in 20 chance of telling actual future. 1 in 12 if a witch. 
  • Any Vapara that drinks from the same water source as a self cleaning animal, doesn't cover their ears and cross themselves at the hooting of an owl or felling of a tree, or if a male curses,  automatically fail their actions until they make themselves clean - or a bird defecates upon them. 


Pijaki

Named after their word for the bison they follow, cruder tongues refer to them as "Half-Orc." This name is incorrect at best, a horrible insult at worst. The Pijaki breed true, but as an off branch of Orc species, they tend to be more civilized than their cousins. "Half-human" the slur goes. And, of course, "civilized" in this context meaning they don't immediately kill you for trespassing. They'll probably even ask you questions first. Truth be told, they're inclined to ask questions and come to an arrangement, rather than kill out right. This is possibly the sole reason there are any Vapara left.

"Do not kill the entire herd when you are hungry," is an old adage of theirs. Being a people that follow herds, they harvest only what they need from the herd. In this way, the herd survives and grows stronger. From this the Pijaki grow stronger. And you're entirely correct to think they do the same to the Vapara. If you kill a man, and take his stuff, his line and trade end there. BUT, if you take only a few of his nicer things, that man can still make a living, and grow rich to have many fat children. Those children will then form more caravans, which your children will then raid.

Obviously the Pijaki do not share this plan with the Vapara.

But, yes, as stated the Pijaki are herdsmen, following herds of the huge Dire Bison (from which they take their name) across the plains, riding atop great domesticated bears. They take almost everything they need from these herds: meat, shelter, weapons, clothing. In return they see that the herd grows stronger. They cull the weak, stifle sickness, ensure the strong breed. They're like gardeners. Meat gardeners.

Little is known of the Pijaki other than that, and such is the way they prefer it. That being said, here is an assortment of information.

Language
The Pijaki speak a language their own, derived from Orc, but instead of being grammatically gendered between male and female, their words are divided between animate and inanimate. Interestingly, their words for other cultures are inanimate, with the words used to describe themselves and orcs are animate.

While the Pijaki have a rich oral tradition, handed down by a shaman or elder witch, they lack written historical records and even, usually, literacy, as reading and writing is clearly a form of magic. I have, after all, implanted knowledge in your head about a made up fantasy race, without even uttering a word to you. They don't truck with that.

Religion
The world of the Pijaki is a mixture of the physical and the spiritual, the latter bridged by shamans and heavy intoxicants. These shamans, usually alone or with a member of the tribe going through rite of passage, commune with the spirits in holy sites spread through out the Tavalinen Sea - hot springs, neat looking boulders, the mysterious monoliths dotting the landscape. In times of need the Shamans consort the spirits - called the Kwiocos - for guidance and wisdom.

Werocosuk
Chief among the Kwiocos is Werocosuk, the most Pijakish looking of all the spirits. All members of the Pijaki who have undergone the Rite of Passage have encountered Werocosuk, always appearing as a young warrior alone in the towering grass of the Sea. Standing a broad eight feet tall, wearing simple pijaki-hide (the animal, not the people) armor, and encloaked in a fur of an animal not native to the grass lands (actually, extinct, but they have no way of knowing this) Werocosuk will speak to the Tribe Member in a voice echoing of breaking wood. He then challenges the Member either mentally or physically. Those who fail the test, die. Those who pass are warned not to seek him out again, and are made a part of tribe upon returning from their vision quest.

Werocosuk's primary domains are Wisdom and Strength, his words often warning that one must be had only in the place of the other. Wisdom without strength is inaction. Strength without wisdom is destruction.

All members of the tribes go through the Rites of Passage, both male and female, for all members are expected to be strong. Should a member of the tribe grow enfeeble, they are given a melee weapon and a week's rations, and are expected to wander out into the Sea to find their end.

Currently, they are not intended for player consumption, but this may be revisited.


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Mooks and Camping

The Set Up

In order to tell you the next part, I gotta tell you this part. The stated purpose of a homebrew system I'm toying with (until I inevitably get bored with it, and just use the GLOG [by Arnold K.] or Dungeon World) was to cut back on dice rolls, and to make every number important. You took time to write the numbers down, you might as well use them. "Why not FATE?" none of you ask. FATE is good, and has it's place, but I also enjoy some crunch. Reduced dice rolling AND some crunch? Yes, yes. It's about building bridges, damn it.

Either way, one of the ideas was to combine Wisdom and Charisma. Thought behind it was that Charisma is stereotypically a dump stat, and Wisdom is useful to...what, Clerics? Perceptive dudes? So, instead of two numbers laying around doing nothing, jam them into one number doing a few things. That being the Personality stat. That's why you'll occasionally see "Personality (or charisma/wisdom)" in my posts. I should probably make a short hand for this.

Personality (c) - Personality (or charisma depending on system)
Personalty (w) - Personality (or wisdom depending on system)

There. Done. Shut up.

What I'm getting at, is that one of the uses for Personality was to determine how many, and of what quality, hirelings you could have. That being you could have a total rating of mooks equal to your Personality. Got a Personality 12? Then you can have three rating 4 servants, two rating 6 servants, or twelve level 1 shitty servants running around acting as meat shields.

Also being mentioned is "Refresh." Long story short is your Vigor determines your stamina (which is basically your HP). It's effectively your ability to avoid taking lethal damage. It hits zero, you start getting stabbed to death. Quickly.

Stamina is easy to get back; you just rest for eight hours for Vigor modifier + Refresh value's worth of Vigor points restored. However, you can only get the rest needed in camp (or potions), as the dungeons are full of danger, odd sounds, bad smells, and the viscera of the monsters you just killed. Probably ghosts too.

The Pay Off

What follows is a list of mooks, used to do tasks the heroes are far to busy to do. Their primary stats are their Rating and Cost. Typically, the higher their Rating, the better they are at their job, and the more likely they are to stick around should things get violent or weird. Sometimes you just aren't paid enough for this shit. Which brings us to the Cost stat. The hired help ain't here for fun. They're here for that sweet, sweet gold. Some work for a standard rate, others for a percentage. Most mooks won't enter the Dungeon, or even leave camp, unless otherwise noted.

If the camp is attacked, roll a d6 per mook. If you roll their rating or under, they stick around. Minimum Rating is 1. Any special ability with a cost is optional. Whenever a roll is needed on their part, Rating is typically used.

Pack Mule
Rating: 1-5
Cost: Rating x 100 gold per week
Function: Can carry up to 10+Rating of inventory slots. Half rating of quick slots. This is person, not an actual mule.
Special: Paid To Be Here - Will enter the Dungeon, but will not fight
             Strong Back, Weak Mind - +2 inventory slots, +100 cost, -1 Rating

Steward
Rating: 3
Cost: 10% of the treasure or 450 gold per week
Function: Tends to the Camp, making it nice and seeing to general upkeep while their employers are gone. You know, stewarding. Only one Steward may be present in a camp at a time.
Special: Make Things Nice - +2 Refresh
             Managerial Experience - +3 personality to hire additional servants, +150 cost

Cook
Rating: 2
Cost: 200 gold per week
Function: Really? I gotta explain this one?
Special: Stone Soup - A favorite among murder hobos. +1 refresh

Camp Guard
Rating: 4
Cost: 10% of treasure
Function: Watches the camp while PCs do other things. Like sleeping. Not fond of Dungeons.
Special: The Hell is That? - +1 to Rating when attempting to make perception checks
            Death Yell - +5% to cost. Guard is able to give one final yell as he is suddenly Back Stabbed in the night, alerting PCs.

Blacksmith
Rating: 3
Cost: 200 gold per week for retainer plus cost of repairs
Function: Sets up a small forge on the edge of camp. Will repair things for you.
Special: Repair - Will repair things for cost
             Identify Material - Will identify material, if possible. 25 gold per chunk

Alchemist
Rating: 3
Cost: 200 gold per week for retainer plus cost of potion
Function: Sets up a small lab on edge of camp. Will make potions for you.
Special: Alchemy - Will brew potions at cost
              Poison - Able to make a poison if you supply ingredients. +150 to cost.

Lore Master
Rating: 2
Cost: 500 gold per week
Function: Carries a collection of grimoires. Knows some ancient forgotten knowledge.
Special: Read Scroll - Is able to translate ancients scrolls or strange moon language. Unless plot calls for otherwise, of course.
             Identify Item - Able to identify a unique object, mineral, or other thingajig which allows for their usage. Identification takes a while and the cost is variable.

Barber-Chirurgeon
Rating: 2-4
Cost: 750 * Rating gold per week
Function: Knows how to patch bodies back together. Well, most of them. Usually. They can probably fake it.
Special: Pretty Sure I Can Keep You Alive - Through their expert care, time to heal lethal wounds is quickened by Rating. Refresh is also increased by Rating.
             Shave and Haircut - 2 gold

Dog
Rating: 1-3
Cost: Rating * 500 gold out right
Function: It's a dog. It does dog things. While it understands some basic commands, a handle animal test would be needed to get it to do fancier things. Only 1 is keep-able by PC, unless class features over rule this. Will enter Dungeons.
Special: Who's a Good Boy? - Treated as having Rating 6 for Run Away rolls. As in don't bother rolling. It stays. Unless maltreated in some way.
             Tracking - Dog is able to track things occassionally, if given a proper scent to follow. +1000 to cost. What does the dog do with all this gold? I don't know. Dog things.

Skald
Rating: 1-4
Cost: Rating * 200 gold per week
Function: Tells tales, sings songs, plays pipes. Knows some history. Will record deeds of PCs and make their own songs and epics based on them.
Special: Play It Again - +Rating Refresh


More Refresh Jams

Equipment, too, can add to Refresh rates. Keep in mind, however, enough camp equipment will require wagons.


  • Basic Adventure Tent: +0 to Refresh. Rolls up with bed roll for easy carrying. Sort of like a pup tent
    • Really nice tent: +1 to Refresh. Thicker fabric, water proof, stronger frame. 
    • Great Tent: +2 to Refresh. Strong carved A-Frame. Tall enough to stand up in. Requires Wagon
  • Basic Ground Roll: +0 to Refresh. Rolls up with basic tent for easy carrying.
    • Really nice cot: +1 to Refresh. Gets you off the ground. Has some furs on it.
    • Great Bed: +2 to Refresh. Nice, strong bed. Plenty of warm furs. Requires Wagon to carry. 
  • Adventuring Coffee: +.5 to Refresh. Gets you going. 
    • Strong Ale: +1 to Refresh. Does add to Drunk rate. 
    • Whisky: +1.5 to Refresh. Good old sipping whisky. Good for post adventuring. 
The basic thought behind "Refresh" is that the camp scene is nice and suitable for resting, unlike the Dungeon. Anything that would help with that would probably add to a Refresh rate. 

Hell, while I'm thinking of it:

Wagon
Has Ten Wagon Inventory slots. While a backpack also has ten inventory slots, 1 backpack takes up 1 wagon slot. Requires a beast of burden to pull. A person also takes up one slot (driver and one passenger not included) 

Covered Wagon
Has Four Wagon Inventory slots, but also functions as a Great Tent and can hold a Great Bed without set up/break down. Allowing for faster breaking of camp. 


Wagon Driver
Rating: 3
Cost: 500 gold per week
Function: Drives the wagon, takes care of the Beasts.
Special: Gopher - +2 rating, +100 gold to cost. Can be sent out for resupply or deliver messages if a town or village is close enough. Requires payment for supplies up front. Potentially vulnerable to attacks. Would be wise to send at least 1 guard. 
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Of the Dwarrows

In the Beginning

In the Beginning, there were the Forge Fires of the Maker, deep within the earth, from which the Dwarrows crawled. They remain still, even to this day, however they are currently in the hands of the Duegar. But I digress, more on this later. Given form by the Fires, and breath by the Bellows, the Dwarves are natural craftsmen, especially when it comes to stone. Iron marbles their bones and traces of silver can be found in their eyes, should you know an alchemist with a loose ethical code willing to boil them down.

For time countless, the dwarrows lived around the Forge Fires, deep underground. They mined, crafted, worshiped, and fermented strange molds all in the vague glows of the lava flows. Their tunnels grew ever outward, downward, and upward. Grand halls were - and are still - carved from solid rock. Mighty metropolises decorated in intricate patterns, and statuary of kings and civic heroes past, were born forth from the earth. Underground rivers were charted and redirected. All these in the search for precious and useful metals. In these times the Tenets of the Maker (which teach the importants of Community, Hearth and Forge) were held to by all, and used to protect against the strange things, often found in the deep dark.

In the abscense of the sun, time worked different. Days were based around the bioluminescence of the algae blooms found within the caves. An average dwarf day lasted about 30 hours, and was divided evenly into three separate time periods, or "shifts." These were further broken down into , , and "swings" (roughly three seconds)

Dwarven society was, at this time. divided in to a class system - the name in their tongue roughly translates to "strata" in ours - which gave priority to the Priests and the wealthy. Some modern dwarrows will cluck their teeth at this system, but none will dismiss it. One should never deny the usefulness of a tool.

Things, in short, were Nice. And then, they got Fucked.

You see, the Dwarfs have a legend of "Ragnarok" - literally "Day of No Rock" - a day in which the world runs out of rock to mine. For a race that has spent their existence completely within the stones of the earth, such a time would unthinkable. Such a time would be catastrophic.

So you can imagine what happened when they reached the surface.

Panic swept through the Tunnels, as the discovery quickly turned to gossip, which only fueled the flames. As many marriage oaths were "until the gold runs out" (an unthinkable event used for poetic device), were the bounds still valid? Some claimed when the surface was broken, the miners fell up. Other reported a ball of fire, watching the world. Judging. These couldn't be true, others said. But, true or not, this Mass of Nothing could only be one thing: The marking of the end of days.

Suggesting Ragnarok was upon them, for sins unknown, the Priests of the Maker claimed the only way to repent was to return to the Forge Fires, deep within the earth. To shun the light appearing from high above, and embrace the comfortable darkness below. And so, with the wealthier class, they left to find the ancient homelands of the dwarrows. In time, they became the Deugar.

With their primary bastions of leadership gone, the dwarrows did what any dwarf does when aurthority is abscent, but there's plenty of booze: They fought. Wars broke out among the populous, with aligences shifting quickly. It wasn't uncommon to see two combatants fighting against on another in the morning, but side by side come kelpset.

Dwarf society crumpled and burned to ash. But, as with iron, ashes make the material stronger. From the chaos one dwarf drew forth order: Therdren Ironsoul, who first laid out the Nine Virtues of Dwarven Kind, banished the caste system of old and became the first King. These Virtues were applied as addendums to the Maker's Teachings.
  1. Strength - The arm that swings the Hammer, forges the strongest Sword
  2. Courage - Back not away from Challange
  3. Hospitality - Give succor to those in Need
  4. Honor - Disgracing yourself Disgraces your Fathers
  5. Freedom - Give in to no Bounds, for with them goes your Spirit
  6. Kinship - Stand with your Brothers, in Joy and Sorrow
  7. Industriousness - Strive to perfect your Craft always
  8. Ancestry - Remember from Where you came
  9. Self Reliance - Rely only upon Yourself, so others may rely upon You
Iron Maidens

The first to carry the Words of Ironsoul were his daughters. Through them the dwarves were taught to honor King Therdren, but stressed that worshiping him was false. Over the centuries, it become customary for clerics to be strictly female and remain maidens as the original Daughters did. (Ironsoul's numerous sons were more than enough to continue the blood line) From this they take their name: The Iron Maidens. In keeping with strict tradition and ancestry, modern Iron Maidens do not shave their beards, as some female dwarrows have taken to doing - the bare chin a fashion gleaned from Human females.

Spheres

While dwarven architecture and sculpting hold to block aesthetics, with natural curves where appropriate, the dwarrows hold the sphere as a perfect - even holy - shape. After all, any apprentice can form a perfect cube with a bit of chipping and sanding, but it takes true concentration and patience to achieve a recognizable sphere, and, it is thought, only the Maker could craft a perfect sphere; all others containing an unseeable flaw by the nature of mortality. For the dwarves - especially the Iron Maidens - the crafting of spheres from various materials is used as a form of mediation. In fact, all (read: those not above the surface) sites of worship are grand caverns carved into a perfect sphere. The purpose of this is many fold: 1) It reminds the carvers that they craft in the name of the Maker, 2) It helps center the minds of those who worship, and 3) The reverberations offered by the shape.

Dwarven worship is perhaps some of the most solemn in nature, yet also the most passionate. Outsiders who have witnessed the rituals, though rare they be, have often been brought to tears as the words of reverence, in the form of Gregorian style chants, echo in the eternal night of the underground. These chants, empowered by the reverberation of the spherical chambers, echo through out the mines and underground kingdoms. Even after the schism, both factions hold chanting as an important form of ritual, even if their views wildly differ.

The Surface

While some descended back into the earth and some remained in their traditional homes, there were some who eagerly sought to explore the strange new world of the surface. And they were rewarded for their curiosity, for they soon encountered Humans and, in turn, gained a strange magic: the ability to turn items of trivial craft into Gold. Humans, as the strange, tall creatures of the surface called themselves, turned out to be friendlier than the dark creatures encountered in the "wilds" of the subterranean. Well, for the most part. -Ish. Either way, the important thing is, they had gold of their own, and seemed all too eager to give it up for dwarven crafts. Even those made by lowly apprentices.

Slowly, but surely, the dwarrows that took to the surface integrated into human society, sharing their culture with the humans, and taking some of the human customs as their own. Today, many a young dwarf can be found in human cities performing odd jobs, running shops of various sorts, selling grilled rats on sticks, and even adventuring; typically sending a portion of their wages back home to their families.

Tools

Obviously, dwarrows are known for their tool usage. They're skilled in a wide variety of crafts, and therefore need a plethora of varied and specialized tools. What is little known, out side of dwarrow culture, is that a tool is an intimate item to a dwarf, much the same way a toothbrush or sex toy is to a human. A dwarf would not think to lend, or even ask to barrow, a tool from another, unless courtship rituals have been completed, and bonds of marriage have been planned out. If a dwarf needs a tool, they use their own, or none at all. Dwarrow view the liberal tool lending of humans as a form of deviancy, and teach their city bound children to stay away from such habits.

Dwarrow Stats

  • Strength must be higher than Dexterity
  • Have traditional low light vision
  • Because of the iron lacing their bones, dwarrows are resistant to magic
  • Dwarrows gain a reduction to fire damage equal to their smithing profession skills (if any)
  • Having shorter legs, they lose 10 feet to their movement; and due to their density are treated as having fallen 10 feet further
  • Can use their beard as an item slot for jewelry (rings, talismans, etc) 
  • Anvil Chorus: Once per day, while working with their tools and singing songs of virtue, a dwarf of Personality (or Wisdom 13 or higher may temperately improve the functionality of a device in some way.  

Duegar


Giving in to self-excile after the discovery of the Surface, the Priests and Upper classes retreated into the depths of the earth, seeking out the primordial Forge Fires of old. And so they found them, miles and miles and miles down. So too did they find the mythical First City, though most of it and its wonders were partially consumed by the Forge Fires. The city slowly sinks, the lower layer slowly melting away, but the Duegar build on, upper portions holding the lower sections in place.

Alone down there, in the deep dark, with nothing by out dated beliefs and bellies full of anger and hatred, the Duegar turned into vile, awful creatures. The caste system was reinforced, with many being forced into slavery and servitude. Slaves too, were taken from the monsters that dwelled within the "wilds" of the deep, where before they were killed outright. And so, in the centuries since, they become the cruel masters of the Deep Dark.


  • As with the Dwarrow, so too with the Duegar, save for the Anvil Chorus
  • Having grown accustom to the dim light of the Forge Fires, Duegar must save vs. blind when encountering a light source. They do have dark vision, however. Which is nice.
  • Voice of Command: Once per day, a Duegar of Personality (or charisma) 13 or higher may attempt to Command a creature of the Deep Down. Many of the monsters down there have been bred as slaves at one point or another. There is a chance the feral beast may remember its true masters. 


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Woodwose

Elves. Long haired, pointy-eared, dandelion eating, pompous, lithe assholes that've become a staple of modern fantasy. Why? Because J.R.R. Tolkien was crazy for them. Just loved them. Went so far as to write a language and songs for 'em. Obsession, plan and simple. Nerds, in turn, being the most sway-able of creatures, latched on to them. There was, however, one man who stood against Tolkien, One man, a Hugo Dyson, who, when faced with unending hordes of Tolkien stories containing elves, was brave enough to roll on the couch, face covered, and scream "Oh, God, not more elves!"

Truly, the hero we deserve.

And really though, why elves? Why? They've all benefits and no downside. Unaging, walking on snow, seeing things perfectly, hanging out with gods when they get bored of not having to do anything for a living. Besides their ability to be killed by sadness and their apparent lust for dwarves, what faults have they? None. How interesting is that? It ain't. What do they know about the human condition? Nothing.

I say get rid of them. And, as a replacement, I offer:

The Woodwose

The Woodwose are mortal creatures of the Forests, rather than City or Stone. Given years limited just as the humans and dwarves, though shorter by far (forty years at best), they do not fill their days with the hassles of government or apprenticeship. They instead fill their days with song and drink. And fornication. So much fornication. Where the other mortals sport on football, stickball, or some dwarf game (probably involves drinking and headbutting), the Woodwose so sport with seduction.

As with the other two mortal races, there are various types of Woodwose, the two predominant sort being the Bush and Deep Woodwose

Bush Woodwose
The Bush Woodwose, sometimes called Fauns, live the closest to other civilizations. Appearing as half men (and women), half goat creatures, Fauns stand roughly five and a half feet tall. While goat horns are the norm, individuals with deer antlers are not unheard of and are almost always a natural at magical arts. As quick with a song as they are climbing cliffs, it is said the Bush Woodwose gave the gift of music to humans, who, in return, tried to offer the strange concept of clothing. While they do not prefer it, Bush Woodwose will often dawn the strange woven fabric when in mixed company, as humans are cursed by modesty. They're largely against anything heavier than leather armor.

  • Charisma stat must be higher than strength. They are known for their charms, but not their physical prowess
    • (or +2 charisma, -2 strength for d20 system)
  • Bush Woodwose are known to help travelers lost on the road. Any Faun with Wis 13+ instinctively know which way is North. 
  • Probably got some bonus to climbing cliffs, what with the goat hooves. Get a minus when trying to sneak on stone though. You also lose the ability to wear boots. 

Drink Booze, Play Pipes

Deep Woodwose
Deep Woodwose, are Satyrs, live the farthest from the other civilizations, deep in the mysterious places of the forests. Usually standing six foot even, the Deep Woodwose tend to be more bestial in their appearance. Further, they tend to be more in touch with nature and the secrets of the world than their Faun cousins, giving to pursuit of knowledge rather than drinking and song, privy to secrets whispered on the forest breeze or gleaned from the depths of arboreal ponds. However, like their cousins they aren't prone to clothing, but do wear armor of living wood (or perhaps they're partly wood), carved in intricate patterns.

  • Wisdom must be higher than strength. Deep Woodwoses are known for their council, but not feats of strength. 
    • (+2 wisdom, -2 strength)
  • Once per day, while gazing into at least a gallon of fresh, clean water, Deep Woodwose may ask questions up to their Wisdom in word length
    • example: a Wisdom 12 Satyr can ask 3 four word questions; 4, three word questions; 2 six word questions; 12 one word questions, etc. per day
  • Their armor will repair itself, if left half planted in fertile soil  
  • Can't climb as well as Fauns, as their hooves tend to be bigger, but still have trouble when stealthing on stone. You also can't wear boots. Clop clop, motherfucker. 
  • Take extra damage from oxidized iron.
OBVIOUSLY, this is what I was picturing

Religion

While the Woodwose acknowledge gods, they don't tend to worship them as the other races do. For the most part, with such limited years, and so much to drink, they just can't seem to spare the time. The closest approximation to the Woodwose religion would be nature worshipping.

Gender for the gods is meaningless, and not entirely correct, but for the ease of typing out this dang thing, they're referred to by the form they usually take.

Talamh, the Sleeping Earth
The Father who gave life to all things, He sleeps eternal, his work completed. Occasionally he stirs, troubled by dreams, creating earthquakes. His blood is lava, his bones minerals.

Sruth, the Exploring River
The Mother who gave life to all things, She embraces her husband, soothing his wounds and comforting his sleep. The babbling of water is her loving whispers.

Speir, the Everwatching Sky
Servant of the Mother and Father, He watches over their creations. He provides sun when growing is needed, and rain when they grow thirsty. The wind is his voice, providing secrets to those who know how to listen.

Doitean, the Tricking Fire
The Lover who is jealous of the Talamh, for He could never have the attention or affection of Sruth. He waits, plotting, and has given his secrets to men, who unknowing serve in his works. Often he strikes out against Cran, who he sees as the product of a love he could never know.

Cran, the Shepard of Trees
The Child of Talamh and Sruth, They tend to the Trees that give shelter, food and material to all things. They're closest to the Woodwose, and often provide gifts to the Wood Folk. The Birds and Bees are They're servants, taking care of minor tasks.

Yonny Fawn
Not really a god of the Woodwose, but rather a celebrated traveler who long ago visited the Wood Folk bringing hordes of stories and song still sung by the Woodwose to this day. Also called the Apple Bringer, he brought with him apples, and taught them how to get juice from the fruit, which then became cider.

Society

Woodwose society is loosely organized at best. While they don't form structured governments, whoever is fermenting the strongest brew at the time can usually get their way for a spell. Of course, payment will be expected in the form of a jug or two of the product. 

Agriculture is light and largely consists of grapevines and small patches of wheat, malt and barley grouped off in the woods. Some orchards are also kept, for the fruit squeezings. Animal handling is limited to bee keeping and deer or boar hording, though they're not above hunting. In fact, next to seduction and drinking, the Woodwose love hunting. 

Kids (baby Woodwose) grow like weeds, coming to adulthood within a year. Trials of Adulthood involve, believe it or not, the fermentation of the Youngling's first batch of their own drink. The Youngling is expected to ask Adults for help, and the Adults, more often than not, are all too happy to help. Once aged, the drink is shared in celebration with the Tribe (for lack of a better word), welcoming the new Adult into adulthood. This night is also the beginning of the new Adult's career of seduction.

While clothing is rare, body painting and horn jewelry is common in both male and females. Often the paintings are of symbolic patterns telling stories, or deeds done. Sometimes, they're just pretty patterns. Jewelry for Fauns tends to come from the closest civilizations, while Satyrs tend to wear feathers and bones of woodland animals.

Should danger come to the Tribe, all Adults are expected, and are well able to, defend their home.

The Woodwose typically live only forty years, given survival of the dangers of life. Funerals are held around a pyre holding the body, and consist of a huge party celebrating the Fallen's life. Songs are sung and stories are told about the Life. If possible, portions of the dead's Trail of Adulthood drink are shared. As the sun crosses the horizon, the pyre is lit, and the dead is shown off to the Fields of Leisure with a ritualistic dance.


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