*Sunday Players Go Away*Across the Northern border of the Nilfenbergian Empire lies the Petty Kingdoms - each run by a self-styled autocrat, all too aware of their insignificance. It is said the witches have saved them from being absorbed. The truth is the Empire is under threat from the Demon Sultanate. But this is of little interest. The Petty Kingdoms end abruptly with the Mountains. Some call them the Brokejaws. Others the Spinal Peaks. Yet others the Marginal Range. But to most, they are simply the Mountains.
Some small villages lurk in the shadows of these imposing peaks - folk scraping by in the crags and fearful of the creatures that crawl from chasms in the deeper ranges. They have little to trade but furs and warnings.
Beyond the Mountains is ash and ice. A desolate terrible plain, marred only by the broken teeth of buildings long-hidden by the ice and snow, appearing more like dunes after the many years of frostbitten burial.
People once lived in these buildings, but now they live above them, grim scavengers atop their dog-driven sledges, tearing across the dead country, either starving or committing to cannibalism. They know not of the secrets buried beneath them, but whisper to their rare children that things forgotten should stay that way. None will enter the ice-bound city beneath them, and they are right to.
A name forgotten a thousand times, no expedition ever returning to restore the torch of knowledge, the city evoked it's own end, as such things always go. A people enslaved by another, joint in a collective plea for revenge - and so it was when the Riven Wolf heard their plight. The plain was blasted for six hundred days with storms and snow, the wind tearing skin free and stealing children into the sky, their screams lost in the howling, their tears freezing in their eyes, tumbling blind through snow thicker than castles.
Seeking a weapon here is madness - all that could be learned is an end to both the Empire and the Sultanate. Yet the expedition left, and is now sealed in the glacier-riddled city with the creeping horrors.
SURVIVOR PACK - 4d4 Humans w/ Spears, Dog-Leather Armour. They fight from the back of Dog Driven Sleds (treat as mounted). Each sled has a team of 6 dogs, and can have 3 men fighting and a fourth driving.
FROST MAD DEAD
The people of the city gathered together to conserve warthm - from each cluster emerged one frozen by the cursed flesh of their peers, forever seeking warmth.
AC as CHAIN - HARD FROZEN FLESH
MOV as OLD MAN
ATTACK +4 - 2D8 ICY GRIP (8+ damage freezes random limb - cannot be used until thawed out).
M 7 / 12 IN PRESENCE OF FIRE. OH TO BE WARM AGAIN.
Before the slaves realised what they had invited, they rose up and bound the overseers in chain. The numbing effect of the chains protected them from the blasting to come.
AC as PLATE - MANY CHAINS - MAGIC IS ROUTED INTO CHAINS, HAS NO EFFECT IN 30FT RADIUS
MOV as MAN BEARING GREAT WEIGHT
ATTACK +6 - 2D4 WHIP + SAVE VS ENTANGLE - TAKE NO ACTION UNTIL CHAIN BROKEN. EACH ENTANGLED PERSON REDUCES AC OF OVERSEER BY 1.
M 10 / 3 IN PRESENCE OF SLAVES (That is, anyone dressed in rags)
SLAVE SPIRIT CONGLOMERATION
So too did the slaves gather for warmth in their rags and chains. They pressed closer and closer until their very souls touched, fusing them together in anguish and fear and regret. The only thing that could drive the result away is the whip of their tormentors.
AC as INSUBSTANTIAL - CANNOT BE HARMED WITH PHYSICAL WEAPONS. (Except Whip)
MOV as CRIPPLED HORSE
ATTACK +0 (IGNORES ARMOUR) - SAVE OR 1D8 CON DAMAGE FROM UNEARTHLY COLD.