Rivalries, The Strength of a Hateful Bond

In the backwards villages in central Nilfenbergia, feuds between siblings are quashed quickly, for fear of a Rivalry. Once both siblings have committed injury to the other, they are both open to the influence of a Rivalry, an intangible spirit of ill will made manifest.

The first sign is the sudden cessation of hostilities between the siblings. Indeed, they grow close, often being seen conversing together. This is no agreement however, but the influence of the Rivalry, driving the pain and hate of mutual wounds outwards, directed to the village at large. The methods the siblings take depend on their genders.

Two brothers will become sly, manipulative, twisting the desires and dreams of others to crush them and see them hurt, eventually aiming to drive the village apart from each other, a community at war the final goal.

Two sisters will become violent, aggressive, starting physical confrontations and always escalating to naked steel as quickly as possible. Some of the worst bandits of the Nilfenberg Empire have been these sisters, driven by a Rivalry to terrorize, plunder and burn across the realm.

A brother and a sister will be a bizarre combination of the two, both freely switching between roles as the situation determines. A sickening sexual element evolves from this Rivalry, each delighting in the flesh of the other and both in their victims. Kinfucker is one of the more heinous insults in the Nilfenbergian lexicon.

In the case of twins, each gains the ability to shift their appearance to the other, one of them becoming the known destroyer, the other angelic, a seeming force for good in the community.

--

Banishing the Rivalry is no easy task - one must investigate the feud from it's start, and unravel each wrong committed, finally tricking the siblings into forgiving one another. Records on this succeeding are scant and likely untrue, the Church usually burning them alive once caught.

The Last Tower - Mini Adventure

This is from a longer thing what I'm doing, but can basically be dumped anywhere you need a weird wizard-tower. Cool. Could be a nice hex filler?

--

The Last Tower – Rising still, each brick heavily engraved with warding sigils, the spirits of longevity bound within so very tired. From anywhere nearby the top of the tower glints, being made entirely of glass, containing something which seems to call, call, call.

All floors of the tower show signs of very small cuts, everywhere. This is from the golem on floor five.

1. The first floor contains mess and rot. Many have used the base of the Last Tower as their camp, and something is always left behind. A stone trapdoor leads to the basement of the Last Tower, which is flooded, and filled with slime-encrusted black leeches, swirling about in their foulsome pool. Eliminating them would allow you to search the basement to no great effect, bar the corroded metal of prior unfortunates.  There is an illusion here, which shows a well-stocked larder, a trap designed to eliminate casual thieves and determined adventurers alike. A set of stone steps curl up to the second floor. A slender silver gate once blocked the way, but it has been successively torn to shreds by passing mercenaries.

2. The second floor contains portraits, each portrait framed in exquisite white-gold frames. A figure made of wooden splinters hangs from the ceiling. This is the guardian of the room, who will faithfully return the paintings if they are disturbed. Each painting depicts a notable alumni of the college. All are very much alive, and will threaten to blast you with magic should theft be attempted. There are several scorch marks on the floor and walls attesting to the truth of this. Each can cause an elemental blast dealing 5d6 damage once a day. If moved, the splinter golem will replace them to their rightful place, harmless but endlessly reconstructing itself. If stolen and survived, each painting is worth 6000sp. The stairs continue to curl upwards.

3. The third floor is nearly bare, featuring only a glyph set in gold into the floor. Reading the glyph, it is simply a depiction of the creed of the college –

"A light amidst the dark"

The gold is animated to regrow when in this room, and chipping out all of it is laborious and not worth the time taken. 500sp for several days work.

4. The fourth floor contains three sarcophagi, unmarked, constructed of frosted glass. Within each is a blind woman, a bandage covering her face. The founder of the college decreed they be kept here in perpetuity. Each is long dead but perfectly preserved, untouched by time. This effect emanates from the sarcophagi, but only functions on the women. Attempting to interfere with them or the sarcophagi will awaken the golem on the floor above.

5. The fifth floor contains a golem, constructed to resemble an octopus, each tentacle made up of razorblades. If the women are undisturbed, it rests, hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently, whistling as the blades slice the air. If they are distributed, it will savagely kill everyone in the tower before weaving a new sarcophagus, gently caressing the dead women with its razor blades. It cannot leave the tower unless the women do.

HD 8 AC 18 +4 1D8 RAZOR SLASHES 1D10+1 MORALE 12

6. The sixth floor is the Assumed Mausoleum. It marks the supposed death of the founder – he simply vanished and after twenty years was assumed to be dead. All forms of divination have failed to discover anything about what occurred, or her location. All of the goods here are entirely false, and utterly worthless – unless you can convince the buyer of their validity, in which case all the moveable wealth in the room (about a wagon load) is worth 20000sp. It takes the form of exotic silks, precious metals and gems.

7. The seventh floor is filled with star charts, and set about with 4 great lenses, cunningly hidden to stop them being visible from outside. Each one is pointed at a constellation of note:-

The first lens is directed at a constellation which confers luck upon the first viewer, granting them advantage on one roll of their choice. It must be spent within 6 days. The second viewer has poor luck, as the constellation siphons their luck to the original viewer. The GM may force them to roll again and take the lower result at any point for the next 6 days.

The second lens is directed at a constellation which looks really nice.

The third lens is directed at a constellation which renders the first viewer idiotic (2 INT), the second blind and the third deaf. The vampiric constellation feeds on such things.

The fourth lens is directed at no constellation, revealing only inky blackness.

There are no stairs to the eight floor.

8. The eight floor is a chamber of glass, a brilliant gem which randomly emits pulses of powerful, blinding light. (Every d4 rounds). Holding it would burn the hands for 2d6 damage from the sheer intensity of the light. It is an embryonic star, crystallised by unknown processes. The chamber of glass refracts and mutes the light, acting as a containment chamber. It could be worth 10000sp if transported.

Hexcrawling in Southern Otica

Players decided to planeshop AGAIN, so goodbye Otica. They spent a decent amount of time hexcrawling about, trying to fight elves and instead fucking about with dangerous dangerous things.

The way I ran it is with a THING in every hex, plus random encounters to make things messy and complicated and fun. In future I'd probably not have something in every hex? But maybe. I don't know.

d8	Weather
1-4	Scorching Heat
5-6	Rain
7-8	Heavy Storms

d6	River Encounters
1	1d4 Crocodile
2	1d2 Couatl
3	Natives on rafts
4	Drowned Jealous Dead (see below)
5	Frog Swarm
6	Roll on Jungle Encounter

d12	Jungle Encounters
1	Arboreal Vampire, displaced.
2	Native patrol
3	1d2 werejaguars
4	Dismounted elf patrol
5	Stranglevines
6	Podsnakes (see below)
7	World Tortoise (see below)
8	Stirge Flock
9	Vicious Monkey group
10	Hunting Wyvern
11	Su Monster
12	Basilisk

d12	Open Ground Encounters
1	Elf Patrol, mounted, 50% chance of these guys
2	Elf Patrol, mounted, 50% chance of these guys
3	Basking Lizards (see below)
4	Hunting Wyvern
5	Podsnakes (see below)
6	Word Tortoise (see below)
7	Native patrol
8	Running Lizards (see below) – 50% chance ridden by natives with lances.
9	Sprinting Spider – as a giant spider but REALLY fast
10	Pteranodon
11	Harpies
12	Dead Knights (see below)

Monsters new to Otica

Note on fast creatures - creatures which are notably quick make a run-by attack. They don't engage normally - to reflect them sprinting past and making an attack, players are at -2 to hit them for the brief period they are adjacent. This applies to mounted combatants too.

Drowned Jealous Dead

HD 2 - AC as Leather - 2d10 Appear - Morale 8 - Attack is to grapple and drown, +5 to grapple checks.

Podsnakes

They bundle into d8 groups of 5, which attempt to drop onto people and crush them to death.

per snake: HD 1 AC AS LEATHER MORALE 10

World Tortoise

HD 10 AC AS PLATE +2 BITE +5 2D8 MORALE 5

They have knowledge as old as the trees. Natives revere them. Elves kill them on sight, and Isp has a 2000sp bounty on them. He turns them into knowledge soup.

Basking Lizard

3d10 appearing. HD 3 - AC AS CHAIN - BITE +3 1D10+3/CLAW +2 1D8 +3 - MORALE 8

They only have the energy to attack when it's sunny.

Running Lizards

2d10 appearing. Faster than a galloping horse. HD 2 AC AS CHAIN (from speed) - CLAW +2 1D8 +2. Once a single person is killed, they will attempt to drag the corpse away rather than fight on.

Hexes

I'm using the numbers here but they're not massively important and are in the order I wrote them, so it's mostly for reference between them.

2613 Jungle

A blood crazed elf is rampaging, killing everything in the area. She touched the bloodstone in 2413. HD3/BITE 1D4/AC AS CHAIN/M12

2413 Open Ground

The stubby ruin of a wizard tower in blue bricks. It's hard to see without almost walking into it. The ground floor is empty. The first basement is trashed, filled with animal corpses. 30% chance of a pack of wild dogs brutally fighting to the death. The second basement level contained a large, red stone, set into an altar. It stinks of cooked meat. Touching the stone causes a save vs magic. If failed, the character enters into a blood frenzy for 3d4 days. The stone is worth up to 8000sp.

2213 Open Ground

A dead giant, now a hill. Spilling blood atop the hill awakens the giant. When standing, it is the size of a cathedral. HD 30. The tortoises know. Surrounding the central hill are 8 smaller hills, which are the brood of the eldest. HD 10, smash for 2d12 if not avoided.

2314 Open Ground

Six dead elves, trampled to death by their missing horses (hiding in 2215). The horses were driven mad by the Treefisher Spirit. 2HD, AC AS LEATHER, Invisible, and hides in a tree. Attacks through poison darts. Today he carries (1d6) 1. Strength Sapping 2. Madness 3. Anti-coagulant 4. Lust 5.Sleep 6. Death. All effects can be saved against.

2215 Open Ground, Riverside

Six confused, scared horses w/ 3 weeks rations between them. 50% glad to see people, otherwise they bolt.

Ruined riverhouse, containing the Eternal Witch. She reanimates if disturbed - the spirit is bound to her shawl. She demands a new body, which she possess when someone dons the shawl. She will cast summon until she gets her way. Destroying the shawl will banish her, or attacking the spirit with magic. (int 18 wis 14 cha 12). Inside the shawl are the spells summon, phantasmal psychedelia. Outside the riverhouse is her hateful tortoise familiar, who wants the witch destroyed so he can leave and seek a new master. He will help any who can kill her, and he will give the location of the spellbook he has hidden from the witch.

2015 Open Ground, Riverside

Skulljar village (see BROKEN SYSTEM 000). Contains a Pyromancy Crown - once a week, this crown can cause (2xlevel)d6 damage worth of flames to explode out from the wearer. They are dealt the lowest 3 damage dice rolled. Worth 6000sp.

1914 Open Ground

A giant reptilian creature which wanders around on it's stilt-legs, served by a nomadic native group. HD 10 - AC 12 - KICK -4 FOR 2D10+5

1815 Jungle, Riverside

A ruined, flooded riverside keep. The armoury is somewhat decayed, but still had a suit of plate, 3 suits of chain and 5 heavy crossbows with 10 bolts each. It is currently inhabited by 80 eel-men, who are a jovial, happy folk. They swam up from the underground sea, but the tunnel collapsed, stranding them above ground. They are guarded by 20 Coral Knights, who are also the leaders of the group. 3HD/AC AS PLATE/HARPOON +3 1D8+3. The armour of a coral knight is weightless in water.

2316 Open Ground

Desmodesmus, Chained Demon of Plague. The chains are enchanted, and any demon clasped by them is utterly bound to the will of the holder, and must protect them beyond death. The problem is the holder is dead, and has been for a hundred years, and Desmodesmus is terrible bored. He wants most of all to be free, but a new master is preferable to this. He will inform the characters he is still bound to protect the holder of the chain to the best of his ability. There is a useless spellbook which Desmodesmus will use to bargain with. HD 8 / AC AS CHAIN (IMMUNE TO 3 MISSILES PER ROUND) / SLAM 1D10+4+ DISEASE (1 week to fester, then -2 to con each day. Save every day, 3 saves in a row means cured). The chains are worth 5000sp.

1811 Jungle

Barrowmounds of Endilack, a foreign king. 

He bears the Eye of Beckonings, an oversized blackly jeweled eye. If used to replace a living creatures eye, that creature takes -2 to all ranged attacks, as the eye does not see this world. Instead, it sees a pocket realm containing the revenants of what was killed by the previous inhabitants of the pocket realm. The host of the eye can beckon them forth, and bid them kill an enemy, or group of enemies.. They must be released every 3 days, or they come for the host. Revenants have 1 more HD than the normal creature. If they are all destroyed, the eye becomes useless. Worth 8000sp.

Endilack also bears a Sword of Wounding, the injuries of which do not heal. The wielder develops the corresponding scar for every wound inflicted by the blade 1d8+1 damage. 3000sp.

Endilack: As wight but wielding the Sword of Wounding. Guarded by 3 elite skeleton guards. 3HD-AC AS CHAIN - OBSIDIAN SWORD 1D6+2. The swords break on a to-hit of 1-5.

BRUTAL NECROCRAWL

I quite often come up with stupid ideas for games that I will probably never run. I have a page in my notebook just of these ideas. Whatever.

A DEAD REALM FOR THE UNHALLOWED CORPSES.

A stack of shards of a reality where the dishonoured dead gather. Faces, memories and people fade.
(if a player can't make a session, their character will flicker and fade out of our stack of shards as they become distant.)

When anything dies here, roll 1d4-1. It will raise again in that many days, more horrible, more twisted, more confused. Memories die as you do. A 0 means they do not return.

Players start with d10 memories. Memories are currency and XP here. You can collect them from others, or else kill them and take memories. Players lose 1d6 memories when they die. At 0 memories they lose all tethering, and become hostile NPCs when they raise.

At character creation, all items below 50 sp are 1 memory, 51-150 2 memories and more than that are 3. You must be able to carry it. (Be reasonable with stacking items - 30 arrows are 1 memory for example.)

In play, the cost of items will fluctuate more.

Players can begin with multiple levels, but they must be purchased. These costs are static.

Level	Memories
2	5
3	10
4	20
5+	Previous x 2

The one thing you won't forget - how you died.

The Death…	…and the role
A soldier laid upon a foreign field.	Fighter.
A liar hung at midday.	Specialist.
A witched drowned in trial.	Magic User.
A heathen ripped apart by dogs.	Pyromancer.
A heretic, cast from atop the cathedral.	Cleric
A godless scientist, eaten by their creation.	Stitcher.
A cannibal, stoned by the people.	Ghoul

Players start by breaking out of their sarcophagus. There are multiple branches from here, with portals to individual shards interspersed. Everywhere will lead back to this place, eventually. It is the future ruin of all things.

Parasite Host - Class

Some are children in the Fever Swamp are chosen to be a Host. They are treated incredibly well, spared the hardship of the swamp-dweller life, princes of the decay and dirty water. On the cusp of adulthood, they are stripped and blindfolded. A shaman, daubed in the protective berry juices and herbs, is the only company they have on the journey to find a Transfiguration Worm. If one is not found within the week, calamity is sure to follow. The last year it happened, Nilfenbergian scouts burnt twelve villages.

The Worm found, the child is offered as host. The worm burrows into the spine, and lodges there, enmeshing itself within the spinal cord of the host. The child is then left in the Swamp, unknowingly tugged by the Worm to find new experiences. Eventually, the Worm has experienced enough, and will force the host back to the Swamp, barely even human. It is not known why they collect experiences.

Transfiguration Host - HD, SAVES AS SPECIALIST, XP AS FIGHTER.

Upon leveling, roll on the appropriate level chart - 

Levels 1-3

d6	Benefit
1	The Transfiguration Worm senses some base magical potential, and stimulates it. The Host wakes up each morning with a random level 1 spell ready for use.
2	The fingers and toes of the Host become like those of a gecko, granting +4 in climb and removing the need for rope – if hands and feet are uncovered.
3	The host awakes with the taste of blood in their mouth – their canines have been forced out by razor-sharp fangs. They can bite for 1d6 damage.
4	The jaw and stomach of the host are modified – the host can dislocate their jaw (by hand) to swallow small objects, and can then vomit them back up at will.
5	The host will not live long – the Worm knows this, and accelerates their metabolism. Their healing rate is doubled, but the host takes a -2 penalty on saves against poison and disease.
6	The olfactory glands of the host are heightened to the point where they rival that of a domestic dog.

Levels 4-6

d6	Benefit
1	The nervous system of the host is radically rewired, granting the ability to learn the last d4 weeks of memory contained within any brain eaten.
2	The host gains a toxin gland, which can be mixed with saliva and spat into the eyes, causing d4 days of blindness of a failed save vs poison. 2/day.
3	An ungainly protrusion from the back of the skull is in fact a gland which can generate enough electricity to stun a human-sized target for 1d6 rounds. 1/day.
4	The host complains of great pains from one arm, and they can feel a twisting and grinding from the bones. Once they eventually pass out, sweat drenched and delirious with pain, the flesh of the arm sloughs off to reveal a wickedly sharp bone-blade, capable of dealing 1d10+1 damage, with +2 to hit. Of course, they no longer have a hand.
5	The parasite has matured enough to tap into its own magical potential – the host memorises a random second level spell when they sleep.
6	The host gains the ability to vomit intense acid once a day, dealing 2d8 damage to those in front of them – however, the higher d8 of damage is dealt to the host as they are burned by the acid.

Levels 7+

d6	Benefit
1	A pair of bat-like wings violently erupt from the back of the host, destroying any armour worn. The muscles of the back become knotted and powerful, enabling flight but disallowing any armour or tight clothing not tailor made.
2	Without warning, the knees of the host snap backwards with a sickening crunch, resembling the legs of a bird. The muscles moan and twist at their sudden growth. The host moves at twice their original speed.
3	The host falls to the ground, screaming, as they nearly double in size, all fragile or worn equipment destroyed. Any natural attacks move up a dice size for damage. The strength of the host is set to 18, and they gain HP equal to their level times two.
4+	The time has come – the parasite takes control, driving the host back towards the Fever Swamp.

The Old Serpents

Sunday Players super-mega-do-not-read.
The Old Serpents

One-eyed snakes of Law, predating Chaos, life, fire and light. They wield something like magic, but drawing on the age and solidity of the world rather than puncturing reality and channeling the Sea outside. They wish to see all life and light not of them extinguished, but they are patient.

They are immense, and coil far below the sun, under the mountains, where their servitors speak to the pathetic hominids who give them worship. A wise Old Serpent will never fight directly.

HD 18 / AC AS LEATHER / BITE D12 - also is a 12th level magic user w/ access to all spells.

Speaking Serpents

The bastard children of the Old Serpents and something long extinct, any given Old Serpent will have a brood of 1d8 of these creatures. They act as the messengers, passing on information to the People of the Serpent, and commanding the Blind Flesh when direct intervention is needed. They despise the Primordial Beetles - and the feeling is mirrored.

The Speaking Serpents can speak only in lies. The People of the Serpent simply take this as a protective measure - the words of the divine cannot be spoken directly without burning the lungs, throat and mouth gravely.

Speaking Serpents will seek to bite once and leave if attacked.

HD 4 / AC AS CHAIN / BITE D10 + SAVE OR DIE POISON.

Those surviving the bite of a Speaking Serpent gain the ability to taste lies on the air. Taking any form of antidote will remove this ability.

Primordial Beetles

These ghost-white beetles dwell in the unformed pockets of reality, and something must be tossed into their sacrifice-bits to rouse them from their burrow. They have a loose alliance to the Old Serpents, and each Old Serpent has 1d6 -2 beetles it could call upon. They gnaw upon time to extend their burrows, and can, instead of attacking, vomit forth Aging Amber, which ages any who touch it, causing the gain of d20 years.

Their chitin is covered in nearly-human faces, all of which sing the glory of the beetle continuously. This is very very loud.

HD 8 / AC AS PLATE +1 / BITE D12 + 3 OR VOMIT / FLYING

Blind Flesh

The original creations of the Old Serpents once they felt the shift from cold, sterile law to freewheeling chaos, the Blind Flesh are something like men - eight foot muscle bound creatures entirely lacking in a head, the neck-stump containing a pair of nostrils and strange, reptilian disks for hearing. Their flesh is lightly scaled. They are bound entirely to the will of their Old Serpent, and their greater servants. Time has worn down their numbers, and each Old Serpent has 2d20 of these monsters remaining. When the time comes, more will be made.

In combat they use their hideous strength to launch characters into walls, resolved as a successful grapple check, and dealing d12 +4 damage.

HD 6 / AC AS LEATHER  / MAUL FOR D8+3 OR THROW

Spell Slave Sacrifice

Sick of magic users tearing through shit? Throw some of these bastards at them. Make the most sense employed by sorcerous societies and amoral wizard-killers.

Emaciated human forms with heads of hydrocephalic proportions, the veins tangled and bulging. Their maws are toothless, and wide open, like that of a basking shark. What they seek is spells, to consume and mutate, something essential in the wizardly duels of the Illyrian courts.

They only eat spells not cast by those whose blood they have supped upon.

HD 2 AC AS NONE ATTK 1D4 PITIFUL PAWING MORALE 12 MOV AS MAN

Whenever a spell is cast within clear eyeshot of a Spell Slave, the spell fails to take effect - instead being consumed by the Spell Slave. For every spell consumed, the Spell Slave will mutate. After 1d6 mutations, the Spell Slave with explode, causing (number of mutations)d6 damage to those within 30 feet. Standard practice is to send these abominations charging forwards, to distance them from their handlers.

d8	Mutation
1	Extra Limb – Either an additional attack, or an atrophied useless limb, hanging limp (50/50)
2	Fleshy Wind Sail – Spell Slave gains ability to glide, travelling great distances on their wind-catching skinflaps.
3	Hideous Yelling – The throat swells, and their piteous moans becoming deafening – save or stunned.
4	Meat Tendrils – 1d4 tendrils sprout, each seeking to entangle an opponent as the Slave shrieks in agony from growing pains. They are easily cut, but regrow in 1d4 rounds.
5	Hideous Growth – The Slave doubles in size and HD, increasing damage by one dice size.
6	Self-Preservation – The Slave becomes aware of their purpose and fate, and attempts to flee combat before they explode from increasing mutations.
7	Slave Contagion – Their nature becomes contagious – any touched will gain the nature of a Spell Slave, without any allegiance.
8	Radical Skin Modification – The skin of the Spell Slave becomes harder, moving up their AC by 2. Skin becomes stone, stone to metal, and metal to materials unknowable.

ACCURSED - LotFP Class

You are bound.

You are tormented.

You are pitiful, a shell of what once was.

The chains of magic bind themselves tightly around your very essence, but you have learnt something - through bondage lies power.

-

(This class only really works with cursed items imparting benefit-at-cost. In my home game, this is basically the only sort of magic item, so bear that in mind.)

Base as Fighter, but no attack progression or improved techniques.
A character of any level with multiple curse-effects can elect to become an Accursed, keeping HP but losing all XP, beginning at level 1.

Curse-Seeker - Whenever an even level is gained, the Accursed gains a dim direction sense of the nearest cursed item. (Place in the world as appropriate. The power of the item has nothing to do with the level of the Accursed.)

Bearer of Chains -  The Accursed can break the bonds of another, removing their curses and taking them on for themselves.

The Binds Tighten - Every odd level gained (including the first) imbues the Accursed with a new curse. Conflicting curses are good. Re-roll if you roll the same thing twice, or else replace whenever a curse is used.

d10	A Chain Gained, a Power Revealed.
1	To Know Restlessness – The Accursed will never rest again, but will still become tired, never quite dying of the exhaustion.
2	To Forget Fear – The Accursed has no capacity for fear in any situation.
3	To Never Know Death – The Accursed cannot die. They can be hacked into pieces.
4	To Move Restlessly – The Accursed cannot remain in the same place for more than d20 hours. As they get closer to this deadline, they move faster.
5	To Be Hated – All who gaze upon the Accursed will hate and fear them immensely. With power to back it up, this is a tool.
6	To Be Untouchable – You grow a second stony skin. You lose all sense of touch, but have AC equal to plate.
7	To Know Betrayal – You can hear the voice of any speaking of you, no matter the distance. You don’t know who says what.
8	To Forget – Your memory is limited to 1 week. You can eat the memories of others, which do not fade. This is achieved through the consumption of brains.
9	To Be Loathsomely Beautiful – You become disgustingly beautiful. All will wish to possess or destroy you on sight.
0	To Be A Slave – You must follow all instructions given to you directly, to the letter. For every instruction followed, you gain a secret of the master.