Thanks to my friend Ed who spotted this impeccably researched and entirely credible article on the ætherwebbe.
This calls for a random table.
CURSED ITEM IN THE TREASURE HOARD
1. “Woman from Lemb” statue
2. Thomas Busby’s chair
3. Annabelle the doll
4. “Crying Boy” painting
5. Lead box containing the Basano Vase
6. James Dean’s car (or part thereof)
7. Wine cabinet (contains dybbuk)
8. Roll again twice.
I’m running an Old Norse-inspired game using Swords & Wizardry Core Rules. Here are some of my notes, probably too rough-and-ready as yet to be dignified with the term “house rules”, but already beginning to resemble a kind of “2e-lite”. (No bad thing in my book.) None of this is set in stone yet. Please feel free to chip in with comments and criticism.
All PCs are human. Cleric, Fighter, Magic-User (Sorcerer), Thief. Maximum level is 9th, for whatever that’s worth.
A patron deity – either Odin, Thor or Freyr – should be chosen for each cleric character. Each god grants a slightly different spell list to his representatives in Midgard. Here are the draft spell lists for clerics of Odin and Thor. (I haven’t done Freyr yet.)
Level 1: Detect Evil, Detect Magic, Protection from Evil, Purify Food and Drink
Level 2: Bless, Find Traps, Snake Charm, Speak with Animals
Level 3: Locate Object, Prayer, Remove Curse, Speak with Dead
Level 4: Create Water, Protection from Evil 10-foot Radius
Level 5: Commune, Dispel Evil
Notes: Clerics of Odin may have any alignment. They must wield a spear. They can Turn Undead.
Given Odin’s stewardship of both poetic inspiration and runic wisdom, I am minded to give his clerics some or all of the distinctive abilities of the AD&D 2e bard: Influence Reactions, Rally Allies, Counter Song and Legend Lore.
Level 1: Light, Detect Evil, Protection from Evil, Purify Food and Drink
Level 2: Bless, Hold Person, Chant*, Spiritual Hammer*
Level 3: Call Lightning*, Continual Light, Prayer, Remove Curse
Level 4: Create Water, Protection from Evil 10-foot Radius
Level 5: Dispel Evil, Quest
*These spells are not in S&W Core Rules but can be imported from other editions and/or clones.
Notes: Clerics of Thor cannot be Chaotic. They must wield a warhammer. They can Turn Undead. Outdoors, they can control local weather conditions (within natural parameters) once per day. The process takes a turn and the effects last 2d6 turns.
They cannot be Lawful. They can wear leather armour and wield any weapon doing 1d6 damage or less. (A hand axe is often favoured.) They also have a limited selection of spells, as follows:
Level 1: Charm Person, Detect Magic, Protection from Evil, Read Languages, Read Magic, Sleep
Level 2: Detect Evil, Detect Invisibility, ESP, Invisibility, Locate Object, Mirror Image, Phantasmal Force
Level 3: Clairaudience, Clairvoyance, Dispel Magic, Hold Person, Invisibility 10-foot Radius, Protection from Evil 10-foot Radius, Protection from Normal Missiles, Suggestion
Level 4: Charm Monster, Confusion, Fear, Hallucinatory Terrain, Remove Curse
Level 5: Animate Dead, Contact Other Plane, Feeblemind, Hold Monster, Magic Jar
Money and equipment
Money in medieval Scandinavia is a complicated topic, but I don’t need that complexity in my game so let’s simplify things by adopting a silver standard and saying that whenever a treasure hoard contains, say, 530 sp it doesn’t necessarily mean there are 530 individual silver coins; it’s an abstraction representing a collection of coinage, bits of hacksilver and precious objects worth, in total, 530 sp. (And probably weighing 53 lbs., using standard encumbrance.)
No plate armour, crossbows, lances or warhorses. The best armour is mail and shield, AC 4 .
Clerics don’t have healing spells. Therefore I’ll probably allow something like “Dutch Courage” – except it’s “Norse Courage” and obviously it’s a horn of mead, not a flagon of wine.
These include dwarves, trolls and giants, all of which commonly have magical powers.
There are those – often crusty old vikings – who do not rest easy in their grave-mounds. Such undead beings will have unique stats and uncanny abilities.
Berserkers are always bad guys.
Edit: I think clerics of Odin should be Lawful or, at worst, Neutral. Pulp fantasy-style alignments aren’t necessarily a good fit for Norse mythology, but if I’m going to use them then it seems to me that the Æsir represent a stable, orderly cosmos in opposition to chaotic, destructive forces like the jötnar (especially the fire giants) and the old worm Níðhöggr, gnawing at the roots of the World Tree. Moreover, Odin – despite his wandering ways and troublesome relationship with the occult – is the ruler of the gods, so his clerics ought to be interested in the maintenance of social order and hierarchical power structures. As well as killing monsters and taking their treasure, obviously.
Lulu is celebrating National Waffle Day, apparently. I’m not entirely sure what country celebrates National Waffle Day, nor why it can’t be International Waffle Day. I want a waffle too!
Anyway, there’s 20% off everything until the end of March. (No, I don’t understand how come National Waffle Day lasts a week, either, but let’s not quibble.) To get the discount, use the code WAFFLESSAY20.
I’m getting The Dungeon Dozen in hardback. Any other recommendations?
Michael Curtis’s announcement that Stonehell 2 (featuring levels 6-10 of the eponymous megadungeon) is only a couple of months away makes me a very happy DM. I’m itching to discover the secrets of the prison’s lower depths – the fabled “Astronaut’s Tomb” especially. My players haven’t yet ventured beyond the third level, but that could change at any moment.
Having said that, our Stonehell on the Borderlands campaign is on hiatus right now. Non-gaming “real life” stuff has intervened, in the form of a very recent addition to the family of one of my three players. Understandably, Martin now faces demands on his time and attention even more pressing and important than acquiring those last few XP to get his mage Nebit Mhunraice to 2nd level.
In the meantime, we intend to play some shorter games of 1-2 sessions apiece. This means that I get to be a player occasionally, which is a very refreshing change. Last week, Craig ran a nameless homebrewed D&D variant. My mohican-sporting fighter G.B. Hovercraft faced cleaver-wielding badger-men and mysterious demonic foes on the Isle of Gavgaar, and did not live to tell the tale. Great fun, though.
It also means we have a chance to visit – or revisit, as the case may be – some other games, old and new. I’ve been eyeing my old Ghostbusters box set for a while now. Maybe it’s time for a session of spook-snaring silliness as a tip of the hat to the late Harold Ramis. Furthermore, despite the number of boxes with Helsinki postmarks I’ve received over the years, I’ve never actually run a game of Lamentations of the Flame Princess. I think that might change very soon – the catalyst being Kelvin Green’s recently published Forgive Us, which is bloody brilliant. Kelvin references White Dwarf in his introduction, and – with its English provincial setting and its combination of grisly tentacular horror, gags and authorial asides – Forgive Us feels like an adventure that could have graced that periodical in its prime. Moreover, it strikes me as an excellent, accessible introduction to the game LotFP has become in a way that books like Carcosa, Vornheim or Qelong – for all their many marvellous qualities – are not. Nice map, too!
Finally, this afternoon I started work on what’s intended to be a “module”-sized adventure for a few sessions’ worth of weird sword-and-sorcery dungeon-crawling. I’m fully aware of the fact that I start many more projects than I finish (D100 Jorune, anyone?) but I have a particular idea in mind right now and it’s clawing at my skull in its eagerness to get out. I’ll say no more but I’ll leave you with a glimpse of my work table.
This object features (rather exotically, given the context) in an adventure I wrote for the forthcoming fourth issue of Wayne Rossi’s splendid Dungeon Crawl zine.
Amulet of riparian ambuscade
This item is a necklace of many sharp teeth, engraved with magical runes. Read magic reveals symbols pertaining to “water”, “predator” and “metamorphosis”, among others. The wearer of the amulet may change him- or herself (and all he or she carries, including the amulet itself) into the form of a large crocodile – HD 6; AC 3 ; AT 1 bite (2d8); MV 9/Swim 9. The change may be undertaken once per day and lasts 1d6+6 turns. Each time it is used, there is a 1% chance that the change is permanent.
I just found out about this site from a friend on Facebook. Despite the name, the coverage is not restricted to these islands. There are – to pick a topical example – some good photographs of the remains of a Soviet-era submarine base in the Crimea.
But the pictures that really grabbed me (and the ones that led me to the site in the first place) are of the old railway tunnel under Scotland Street, Edinburgh. I’ve stayed in Scotland Street before – in a basement flat, as it happens – unaware that this was mere yards away.
Now there’s a tunnel just crying out for a shoggoth… Tekeli-li!
And on the topic of Lovecraftian horror, West Norwood Cemetery in London, with its catacombs and its hydraulic coffin lift would make a perfect location for Cthulhu by Gaslight investigations. There’s even a map.
The site’s layout is rather clunky and it’s not that easy to navigate. Nevertheless, if you’re seeking visual inspiration for your Cthulhu game – or post-apocalypse bunker, or city underworld, or steampunk megadungeon, or whatever – it’s well worth trawling through the categories.
Ian Miller’s eldritch dragons graced the pages of David Day’s Tolkien Bestiary back in 1979. For me, there’s something uniquely compelling about their blend of organic, mechanical and purely geometrical morphology. I’ve often felt that dragons shouldn’t just be overgrown reptiles, but something more alien, something… Other. Miller makes that happen.
The red dragon above is one of the artist’s more recent works. You can see it and much more besides at Miller’s fantastic web site here.
Are your players getting too big for their boots? Need a worthy adversary to strike the fear of god(s) into them? Here’s one.
Grim Aegir is a villain in the medieval Icelandic romance Göngu-Hrolfs saga. At the start of the saga, he is introduced thusly (trans. Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards):
No one knew Grim’s background or his family, for he’d been found on the beach at Laeso Island by the sorceress Groa. She [...] reared Grim as her foster-son. She taught him so much about witchcraft that no one in Scandinavia could rival him, and his nature was utterly different from any other man’s. Some people think that Grim’s mother must have been a sea ogress, for he could travel at will in both sea and fresh water; that’s why he was called Grim Aegir. He used to eat raw meat and drink the blood of men and beasts. He would often change himself into the forms of various creatures and could do it so quickly that the eye hardly saw it. His breath was so hot that even men in armour could feel it burning them. He could spew venom and fire at people, killing both them and their horses, and they were helpless against him.
Ah, they knew how to make memorable NPCs in the 14th century! I’ve statted him out in the style of Supplement IV: Gods, Demi-Gods & Heroes.
Armour Class: 3
Hit Points: 48
Magic Ability: 16th level
Fighter Ability: 8th level
Grim Aegir is immune to damage from non-magical weapons. In melee he goes berserk, gaining +2 to hit due to his inhuman ferocity. He uses polymorph self to assume the forms of monstrous beasts – dragon, serpent, boar, bull, etc. He can pass through the elements of earth and water, at his normal movement rate, as if they were air.
Grim has two breath weapons, each of which he can use up to three times per day. He can spew a stream of venom at a single target within 30 feet (save or die) or breathe a cone of flame (30 feet long and 10 feet wide at the base) that inflicts damage equal to his remaining hit points (save for half damage).
If any of his limbs are cut off, they turn into poisonous snakes with 2 hit dice apiece. If he is killed, his face contorts into an expression of such stark hatred and malice that anyone who sees it must save vs. death ray or die on the spot. Even after death, he lashes out violently with his fists until reduced to -10 hit points, after which he stops moving and his body crumbles to dust.
“Viking Warrior” by vempirick on deviantART
The internet seems to be full of something called Ragnorak. Come on, internet! Get your act together. Have you never heard of Google or Wikipedia? Gah.
A ragnorak is, obviously, something you wear when you want to avoid getting wet during the final inundation of the earth.