Tag: art Page 3 of 5

Building Gossamer, Part 1 – Overall Concept

On May 20, 2020

I’m drawing a new city – Gossamer, capital city of Elfhame – and thought this would be a good opportunity to show my process for desgining and mapping fantasy cities. This is something of a companion post to “How I Run a Citycrawl Campaign.”

Overall Concept

I start by thinking of the overall concept for the city – who rules it, what its economic and political purpose is, what its overall shape should be, its overall aesthetic, and which historical cities I can take as models. For Hex, I knew I wanted to create a magical university town, I knew I wanted the city to be shaped like a hexagon cut through by a river, and I took some broad inspiration from cities like London, Rome, and my home city of Vancouver. For Erubescence I knew I wanted to construct a vampiric capitol where the Night Queen traps her nobles at court with water (since vampires can’t cross it), and the idea of a pentagram stuck in my mind; my real-world references were Venice and Paris, with a little bit of St. Petersburg.

Gossamer, the Big Cobweb, is going to be the central metropolis of Elfhame, placed at the converge of the four realms of Logris, Annwn, Tír na nÓg, and Mag Mell (Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer). I want it to be literally cut into four, with two rivers carving the realms up, their confluence serving as the site of the city. Since I like giving cities a distinctive shape, and since I’ve picked the name Gossamer for the capitol, I’ve decided to make the city look like a giant cobweb, with canals taking the place of the webbing. This design is partly inspired by Amsterdam and Bruges, the two cities that I’ll be taking most of my visual cues from this time. The canals of Amsterdam were originally a series of defensive moats that slowly transformed into commercial waterways, which I’ll use as the basis for the web-like design in Gossamer.

Getting Started

The idea of the city will be that there are four major “quarters” to it, each technically a different country. Gossamer will thus have a bit of the vibe of somewhere like East/West Berlin and other “divided cities” (this is partly inspired by The City and the City, which I’m teaching this summer). Each of the four quarters will have a different ruler, different laws, and a starkly different feel to it. They’ll also need a unique visual identity, so that while the map looks like one city overall, the quarters also feel quite distinct from one another. In the very middle of the city where the quarters meet will be a dockyard and bazaar.

I decided to start with Mab’s quarter, the Wilting Quarter, a borough of eternal autumn and decay. I jotted down some prospective names of districts: Rotting Hill, Grosscastle, Shroomsbury, the Wartward, the Brambles, Wormwood, and Horripilation Circus. For each of these I made notes on how I wanted each district to look, and its purpose within the city. For example, Shroomsbury, the district I’m starting with, is going to be the fungoid district, will have giant toadstool structures, and will be a significant manufacturer of drugs and potions – the alchemist’s district as well. This means it’ll include lots of wizard’s towers, laboratories, and similar places, but it will also be an organic sprawl of buildings and fungi (I picked this first because I figured it’d be fun and easy to draw – a good starting point).

To make sure that the map coheres, my first step is to find a pattern that fits my picture of the city. After some quick googling I was able to produce this:

This will be the “blueprint” for the Wilted Quarter.

Which, when resized and printed off, becomes this:

Each of these sections is numbered so that I know how they fit together. I now have a bluprint for the city and can begin actually drawing, placing the map over each section so that the shape of the canals is maintained. I began in the top right-hand corner. After some consideration I’ve decided that the Wilting Quarter does not have walls, but like Bruges uses waterways for defense (I think the Mag Mell and Annwn sections – names not yet determined – might have walls). I want this part of the city to be a sprawl, with structures throughout even the large sections without canals along the edges – indeed, these hinterlands will be the location of the Fairy Queens’ and Kings’ palaces, as far from their rivals as possible.

With a blueprint ready, I then sketched out roughly where each of the seven districts within the Wilting Quarter would be placed. The four “inner” districts will be the Wartward, Wormwood, the Brambles, and Shroomsbury, while the “outer” districts will include Rotting Hill, Grosscastle, and Horripilation Circus, since those districts will benefit from having more space – the first will be a mansion-encrusted hill, the second a series of gigantic ruins built by the exiled Fomorians, and the third will be a sort of demonic amusement park.

District 1: Shroomsbury

With the basics sketched out, I started drawing.

I use the blueprint to guide the drawing and keep track of things like canal position and which district goes where.

As each section is completed, I scan the results and tweak contrast. The result looks like this, for one page of the map. This section will take 20 pages, which means the overall map will be 80 pages.

One down, 79 to go. Shroomsbury needs some more landmarks, something to make it stand out apart from just being made of fungi. I brainstormed some ideas, including:

A giant who has been lulled into sleep by the psychedelic spores and now has buildings and fungi built all over him. I do have a giant head already in Erubescence (a zombified trophy), but I like the idea that this visual links the two cities, who were frequent allies in wars with the Giants before the Seven Years’ Mischief sundered the peace. I also like placing “passive threats” in my cities, like swords of Damocles – things that PCs could “set off” if they disturb, like the infectious Thornmaze in Erubescence or the protoplasmic monster in the Warded Ward in Hex.
A giant compost heap/garbage tip, essentially the cesspits and mass graves of the city, which can of course spawn all sorts of monsters and threats.
Since this is the alchemists’ and apothecaries’ district, a fungal hospital or leper house could be interesting, where patients go to have experimental cures involving bizarre growths and drugs.

I then drew the next page of the city, adding in the fungal hospital. This requires some care, lining things up with the precious page, like so:

Scan, boost contrast, reduce light a little, and the second page looks like this:

Now I simply edit these two pages together. I like to perform some minor tweaks at this point to make sure the pieces segue smoothly. I place broader streets at the join between areas, while occasionally interrupting those streets with diagonal canals or long buildings to disguise the fact I’m piecing the maps together as a series of 8.5/11″ pages.

When I add the first two pages together they look like this:

Looking back to the blueprint, I’ve now drawn the first two pages on the top right corner.

In subsequent posts, I’ll share progress on this map as I complete districts and quarters. I’m going to be starting with Shroomsbury in its entirety, and then we’ll spread out from there. Once Shroomsbury is done I’ll get into labelling and naming things, and then start to brainstorm more ideas for the adjacent districts – I have thoughts for each of them, but the specifics aren’t fully worked out, which is part of the fun.

Elfhame Session 2 – Actual Play – The Barrow of King Finvarra

By Bearded-Devil

On April 13, 2020

In Roleplaying

The characters in this session were:

XP Awarded: 350 XP

After Sparks started a fight to free to pixie Babs, the party slew several goblins of the Bonegrubber tribe, inhabitants of the Upper Tombs of Lord Finvarra’s barrow. The fight began with Sparks firing off a Firebolt, followed by Blue-Eyed Molly sliming seveal of the goblins with glowing green ectoplasm. Fun-Guy, coaxing the gigantic drunken Cat Sith from the other chamber, lobbed the huge feline into the goblin ranks, producing a hissing, snarling, spitting ball of chaos. As goblins scrambled to evade the cat, Susurrus sowed confusion amongst foes and inspiration among allies, while the stealthy Wick worked through the mob, stabbing kidneys and skewering goblins in the back. Petallu swirled her sword in a beautiful but stunningly inefficient pattern, aimed way too high for goblin necks, while Mud bashed a goblin over his skull, splitting it in two.Weevil, vexed at the death of other goblins, chose to clobber several unconscious rather than kill them. The fight ended when Molly cast Sleep to subdue the remaining combatants, including the winesop cat.

While Sparks and Petallu spoke to Babs (and got her some false wings made up, courtesy of Petallu’s tailor), heavy footsteps were audible down the corridor as something came to investigate the commotion.

“What’s all this then?!” a gruff voice demanded. “Who defiles Lord Lousewort’s domain?”

“Invited guests!” the affable Mud said smoothly, stepping up to block any sight of the carnage close behind them.

“Yes, don’t you know who we are?” Blue-Eyed Molly retorted. “I’m Blue-Eyed Molly, famed bard. Your lord invited us to play for him.”

Fennrix used Friends to help convince the lumbering ogre, while Weevil played on his goblin cred. Eventually the ogre – who apologetically introduced himself as “Nosebiter,” led them down the hall; meanwhile Susurrus and Wick hid the bodies and sleeping goblins.

The party was shown in to meet the grotesque Lord Lousewort and his wives, Bloodeyes, Toothsome Jenny, and Curlyhorns.

“Who’re all these people?” the goblins demanded – a gangly, long-limbed creature splayed over his throne, his brain stranglely swollen in its skull. He scratched his belly and flipped idly through a mouldering-looking spellbook while snacking on some sort of fungus.

“Blue-Eyed Molly and friends,” the bard proclaimed. “You invited me, don’t you remember? I’m a famed entertainer, here to regale your fine court with song…”

Flattery seemed to have proved a wise tactic, and after a few more exchanges Molly was led into a dank “dressing room” to prepare, while the rest of the party – having carefully hid the goblin bodies in sarcophagi – made themselves comfortable. As word spread through the goblin barrow, goblins began pouring into the chamber, introducing themselves with names like Fuckwit, Drool, Batbreath, Wibbly, and Wobbly. Mud conversed with Lord Lousewort’s wives and managed to acquire some exotic spices, and bits and pieces of the embalmed elfin dead the goblins considered a delicacy.

After preparations, the concert was soon underway, with Fennrix adding an illusory multi-coloured feline disco ball, Susurrus on horns, and Blue-Eyed Molly on her tin-whistle. The goblins writhed, danced, and drank, smashing their heads into one another and leaping about the room in a bacchanalian frenzy. Even the Cat Sith wandered back in and, after vomiting all over the floor, engaged in the festivities, swigging from her enchanted bottomless goblet.

At the climax of this concert, Susurrus blew the Drudehorn and conjured a nightmare, Mary, lighting the Lanthorn of Renewal in the tomb, which repaired the broken pillars.

The party initially mistook the lamp for the Sacred Cauldron itself, and later realized they would need this item to bypass the collapse elsewhere in the ruins.

The rousing concert was sufficient for the party to convince Lord Lousewort to lend them the Lanthorn; he also told them that the Sacred Cauldron might be found in the Lower Tombs.

Suitably equipped, the party used the Lanthorn to clear the blockage they had discovered back near the entrance – only to discover the statues in the hall animating to attack! Petallu convinced some to go after the “goblin trespassers,” while quickly snuffing the lamp returned the blockage to its previous state.

While the blockage was cleared they also found the remains of a knight and a pixie, as well as the Lion’s Shield and the Acorn Key. The party again used the Lanthorn (carried by Fennrix) to descend a newly-repaired stair, and glimpsed the slimy tail of some hideous beast disappearing down a tunnel.

Choosing a different route instead, the party crossed a previously ruinous bridge with the aid of the magical lamp and came to the Hall of Years – which they found mysteriously unlocked. An inscription read: “To Pass the Hall of Years, Thou Must Remain the Same Age As Thou Wert When Thou Entered.”

Here, Mud’s Druidic knowledge of runes (the closest he has to reading) and a degree of trial and error enabled the party to figure out a path across the warded aging and de-aging tiles to remain the same age as they entered.

The party looted the Royal Tomb beyond, discovering a series of journal entries by Fraff the Foolish – a gnome adventurer from the city of Hex – who apparently was transformed into the Lindworm. He told of the sinister Green-Fingered Gentleman and his desire to use the Sacred Cauldron of Rebirth to revive the long-dead Erlking, champion of primal Elfhame, rebel against the four Faeire Kings and Queens. From their knowledge of history the party deduced that this individual would likely have headed to either Joyous Gard or Dolorous Guard, two fortresses in Mag Mell where the Erlking or his Fetch – a kind of magical double used for purposes of strategic and political deception – was reputed to have been killed in centuries past.

Investigating the tomb with the Lanthorn, the party accidentally restarted the magic that reanimated the giant Fachan, a skeletal monstrosity and guardian of the tomb. Although Blue-Eyed Molly managed to blow off the thing’s legs, it was still a terrible opponent.

A fierce fight ensued that nearly saw Petallu and Sparks killed, the giant sweeping the terrible Ablach Flail left and right to scatter his foes; the elfin knight and pixie were sent flying, hitting the far wall with twin sickening smacks. After pelting the giant with spells and blades, the group of would-be heroes lured Fachan to the sarcophagus of Lord Finvarra, over which a stone had fallen, and then through Weevil’s clever use of the Lanthorn managed to break his back with the stone, destroying him once again. Petallu then obliterated his skull and scattered the fragments in the Hall of Years.

Thorough investigation of the tomb yielded the Royal Signet Ring of the King, and a few gold pieces.

The party made their escape, only to encounter the tail’s owner once more – a vile Lindworm, lured into exposing itself via a clever illusion! The hissing beast caused the illusion to disperse and turned to face the party, slaver dripping from its jaws…

The hideous Lindworm proved amenable to tasty treats.

Before it could strike, however, Mud offerred forth some of the sweatmeats of Lord Lousewort’s wives. The Lindworm sniffed, cocked a scabrous brow, and took a tentative bite of the goblin treats…

What followed was not a fight but a very pleasant meat tea, over the course of which the Lindworm began to remember his life from before his transformation by Dragon-Fever, an illness common to tomb-robbers in Elfhame, wherein a desire to hoard wealth and leave it unspent transforms the miser into a serpent. It seemed the creature was none other than Fraff the Foolish himself, penned down in the tomb for some time.

Returning to the surface, the party found themselves faced by a roomfull of goblins, who had discovered the dead bodies after some of the unconscious warriors came to. Lord Lousewort – strapped to Nosebiter’s stomach – demanded the return of his Lanthorn. Susurrus instead blew the Drudehorn and scattered the goblins, including the protesting Lord Lousewort, strapped to Nosebiter’s stomach, who screamed protests as his warriors scattered.

The heroes emerged into the sunlight, and in moments Fraff reverted to his gnome form, sloughing off his dragon-scales and the avarice that had cursed him.

The Sacred Cauldron was not at the Barrow of King Finvarra, but the heroes now knows who stole it – and why. Resolving to cover more ground, they split into two parties, one to investigate Joyous Gard, the other Dolorous Gard.

Elfame Session 1 – Actual Play – Quest for the Sacred Cauldron

By Bearded-Devil

On April 5, 2020

In Roleplaying

The characters in this session were:

XP Awarded: 200 XP

Once upon a time, in the land of Elfhame, a group of would-be heroes journeyed to the Glass Fortress of Glistermarch, heeding summons of Lady Una, a Seelie princess of the Royal Blood. They were eight in number, the sardonic shade bard Blue-Eyed Molly, the mad pixie sorcerer Fennrix, the tragicomic fungoig barbarian Fun Guy, the chef and woodwose druid Mud, the aforementioned Petalu Morriden, Knight of Harts, the irascible pixie sorcerer Sparks, the hard-bitten goblin mercenary Weevil Stench, and the enigmatic firbolg rogue Wick. Two others followed Petalu, the squire Tiesel and servant Bellaquick.

The party briefly tarried with Rhiannon, the lady in the moon, a Tatzelwrum guarding the borders fof Glistermarch in the Realm of Tír na nÓg, and the merchant Hawthorn (whose broken cart the druid Mud fixed), and acquired some magical candles in the village of Wick, where enormous beehives produced wax which fey chandlers then animated, directing the semi-sentient waxkin to pour themselves into moulds.

At the fortress, Petalu convinced the guards of the party’s good intentions, and they were led into the heart of the keep to meet with the princess.

“You have come here having heard of my need for heroes,” the princess said. “The truth is that the Quest beforeyou is in the service of all Elfhame. Look now upon Her Highness, Queen of Tír na nÓg, Titania.”

With a gesture, one wall of the chamber shimmered, and they saw the Queen Titania herself, ruler of Tír na nÓg; she appears to be asleep, her face pale and drawn, her hair not its famed gold but streaked with white and grey.

“Some weeks past, my mother fell into this slumber,” Lady Una said. “What manner of poison, curse, or illness has afflicted her, we do not know, though it is beyond all magic or remedy we have attempted. But it is affecting the realm.” She gestured again, and the view shifted, replaced with a vision of a decaying woodland, the trees twisted and riddled with fungi, some dead and leafless. “As Monarch of Spring, Queen Titania sustains the Everlasting youth of Tír na nÓg,” the princess explains. “As she fades, the land itself is beginning to sicken. Should she die, all of Elfhame will plunge into chaos – the natural order will be disrupted. The borders of our realms will be fatally breached.

“Some believe this to be the work of the Unseelie Court. Though suspicions naturally fall to Queen Mab, even she knows that Elfhame requires a balance between forces. Should Tír na nÓg lose its vitality, Mab’s own realm would suffer as well. Even dark Lord Arawn would not threaten the stability of the Wheel of Seasons.

“Whatever the cause, Elfhame must act if we are to save Queen Titania. I believe our best hope is an artefact of great power, one of the Thirteen Treasures of Elfhame – the Sacred Cauldron of Rebirth. It is said that any who drinks of the Cauldron will be cured of all illness and purged of all poison, restored to the first blush of youth.

“Like all Thirteen Treasures, the Cauldron is fated to pass from one hand to the next, never to be possessed by any single owner for long. As such, I cannot tell of its whereabouts with any certainty – rumour and legend are our only guides. The last known location of the Cauldron was in the hands of King Finvarra, husband of High Queen Nicneven, father of both Queen Titania and Queen Mab. It is believed that the Cauldron was one of many treasures interred with King Finvarra when he died. As such, I suggest you begin by seeking his tomb, which lies on the border of Tír na nÓg and Annwn, deep in the Gloamwood at the hill of Cnoc Ma.

“As for a reward – beyond ensuring an eternal place in song, should you return with the Sacred Cauldron, each of you shall be granted one of the precious Royal Wishes – anything it is in my power to grant, you will be given.”

After a heart heroic feast – complete with psychic dessert – the party set out at twilight through the Gloamwood.

The party’s first encounter was with a pair of monstrous slugs in the depths of the woods, devouring what appeared to be decomposing leaves – anathema in Tír na nÓg! Fennrix and Mud made quick work of one with a mixture of fire and salt, while Fun Guy and Weevil butrchered a second. Attempts to befriend additional slugs looked dicey, so the party pressed on.

They next assisted the treefolk bard Susurrus Psithurisma with a band of errant torch-bearing pixies. The treefolk, from Oberon’s court in Mag Mell, gladly joined the party’s quest. Petalu also spotted a red-eyed owl and asked it to help put out some of the fires of the pixies.

After an uneventful watch, the paryt pressed on along the Greenroad, lingering briefly by an overturned carriage from which protruded a black-fletched arrow, somewht reminiscent of those famously used by the followers of the Erlking, who wanted to return Elfhame to its “primal” nature – but the Erlkin has been dead for nearly a thousand years. Coincidence? Mud also found a magical emereld.

Weevil found a cold iron dagger, dropped by a petrified goblin.

The party had another encounter with a flock of randy cockatrices, after the mischievous Fennrix immitated the mating call. of the basilisk With spells and blades they quickly dispatched the ferocious birds – and found themselves dinner.

Grateful for liberation from the cockatrice and drawn by the entrancing smells of roast fowl, various beasts of the woodlands joined the party for a jamboree that night. In conversation with some bears, Wick heard tell of witch-like spirits in the deep woods, dwelling in a dead tree – gwyllion, souls of the dead who did not pass into Annwn but lingered by its northern border.

Resting that morning the party enduring some… strange dreams as a result of eating the meat of cockatrices preparing to mate…

Travelling that afternoon, the party discovered a series of severed goblin body-parts on the fog-swathed trail that led like gruesome breadcrumbs into the woods. Sparks removed a hexing ward from one of the trees.

At the dead tree, the party attacked the lurking spirits that skulked in the fog, lured out by a clever illusion. A fortuitous shaft of sunlight caused the gwyllion to flee into their tree, which Blue-Eyed Molly then uprooted with Thunderwave. Cast out into the light, several of the ghosts were easily dispatched, their apparent leader slain by Weevil with the cold iron knife.

Amidst the bones of the dead the party discovered the Drudehorn, a nightmare-conjuring hunting horn. The tomb was set on a hill that rose up out of the forest, looming like the head of some terrible beast. Snow fell softly, a cold wind blowing in from Annwn, distantly visible to the north – a bleak vastness of jagged mountains and windswept moorland, shrouded in a perpetual brume. The mound was marked by a ring of menhirs, like some ancient crown.

The gates of the Tomb of King Finvarra must once have been resplendent, being intricately carved with elaborate bas-reliefs showing the deeds of the former co-ruler of Elfhame – his war with Hell, and the peace that led to the Tithe; the tricking of the red and white dragon that once wreaked havoc over Elfhame, when he poisoned a pit full of mead with a sleeping draught, then filled in the pit over their slumbering bodies; his victory of the cyclopean Fachan, former ruler of Avalon and wielder of a terrible flail with heads like spiked apples, dripping poison; his marriage to Nicnevan, which brought peace to Faerie; his glorious death in the battle against the rebellious Gwyn ap Nudd, the cambion son of Arawn.

Now, however, the gates had been pried open, one ripped entirely from its hinge, marred with chisel marks. What’s more, the carvings had been defaced, with a ridiculous moustache and even-more ridiculous priapic cock and swollen testicles added to Finvarra, and enormous heaving tits scrawled over the carving of Nicnevan, with a puff of air indicating the High Queen of Elfhame was farting.

The adventurers crept inside and found a long, dim hall; mutilated forms loomed amidst a sea of dust. Shrouded in cobwebs, the broken remains of half a dozen statues stood, their heads and arms broken off, their bodies adorned with crude graffiti, severed heads chipped and disfigured with scrawled-on faces. Weevil pasued, admiring the craftsmanship of the graffiti. The way forward was blocked by a collapse.

Exploring the Upper Tombs, they passed by a door where something scratched and clawed, trying to get free of its tomb; this they passed by, entering another chamber and discovering an enormous Cat Sith, drinking wine from a bottomless goblet. The crept further into the tombs, hearing laughter and shrieks up ahead, and soon discovered a group of goblins betting on a fight between a squirrel and a wingless pixie. Despite Weevil’s boisterous charms and attempts to befriend the goblin gamblers, the appearance of the rest of the party and the rage of Sparks at the sight of pixie-torture seemed to make a fight inevitable…

Adventurers of Elfhame

By Bearded-Devil

On April 3, 2020

In Roleplaying

My players completed a Session 0 for our Elfhame campaign last weekend. Here’s the party as they currently stand:

A Fair Folk sorcerer and former competitive eater, cursed by an Unseelie magician so that he neither eat nor drink. An emaciated husk of his former self, he vomits spells form his bewitched innards, wandering the land to seek a reversal of his affliction.

A shade bard, wandered south from the eternal winter of Annwn out of bordeom – she’s been dead for many decades and grew tired of the endless dark and underground tunnels of Arawn’s chill realm. The oft-reluctant chronicler of Petalu Morriden’s many deeds.

A pixie wild-magic sorcerer, born into servitude because his parents needed to pay a debt and offered their firstborn as payment – he lived the first 100 years of life doing menial tasks for a treefolk moss-gatherer named Sprill. Recently, Sprill was murdered by a crazed beaver, so Fennrix is now having his first taste of freedom.

A fungoid barbarian raised by owlbears in the depths of Elfhame’s forest. He searches for his mother, Mama Owlbear, who narrowly escaped from poachers.

A woodwose druid and frequent traveling companion of Sparks, and occasionally Fun Guy.

A paladin of the Fair Folk, known as the Knight of Harts, struck out on her own away from her elfin family. She has sworn oaths to Beauty, upholding the aesthetic standards of the realm. Her deeds are calculated to be as exquisite and spectacular as possible.

A little pixie sorcerer from the Big Cobweb, Gossamer, the fey metropolis. “HEY! I’M FLYIN’ HERE!”

A treefolk bard, Susurrus has recently insinuated themself into the court of King Oberon and hails from the western reaches Mag Mell.

A goblin fighter, keen of wit and blade. He escaped a life of servitude in the halls of the Fair Folk and now makes a living by the sharpness of his sword – and his tongue.

A stealthy Firbolg rogue, recently escaped from the oppressive rules and strictures of his family home in Mag Mell.

Elfhame

By Bearded-Devil

On March 25, 2020

In Roleplaying

Due to the pandemic and the current necessity for social distancing, my regular gaming group can’t meet in person. We’re switching to an online game, but rather than simply continuing our regular campaign I decided to hit “pause” and run a mini-campaign. There’s a kind of frame narrative: the PCs from the regular game are reading a book of fairy stories round the campfire. The mini-campaign describes those stories, set five hundred years before the present time period in Hex, during the medieval past. The whole thing is going to be set in and around Faerie – or Elfhame, as the Fair Folk call it. I’m hoping for a kind of dark fairytale quality, but with a rollicking, swashbuckling energy as well – gonzo rather than grimdark.

I’ve prepared a primer for the party with suggestions for character ancestries, plus some house rules we’ll be using that grant the players some extra powers over the narrative, and details on how things like time, death, plants and animals, names, oaths, debts, and gods work in Elfhame. Check out the PDF below – it’s a lot more rough and ready than a Genial Jack volume, but it has some art, worldbuilding, and 15 playable species (including several also found in Hex).

Elfhame-5 Download

As the campaign progresses, to help keep myself occupied during the long days at home I’m going to be polishing up adventure notes and will likely make them available in some form or another in the future, probably as a pay-what-you-want PDF or something similar.

Stay safe everyone!

Map of the Quill Coast

By Bearded-Devil

On March 3, 2020

In Roleplaying

My players are going to be embarking on a journey back to Hex from the far north (long story as to how they got there), so I decided it was finally time to draw a proper map of the region. It’s pretty huge, so as with the city maps, I’ve added some smaller images of particular areas of interest, and the larger file can be downloaded from the link below:

Quill-Coast Download

1d100 Characters & Crooks in Hex

By Bearded-Devil

On December 14, 2019

In Roleplaying

*Palace-Pate and Chantarelle Tombsworth, two of Hex’s many colourful characters.*

My approach to DMing favours the specific over the procedural. However, like any DM I still enjoy a random table from time to time.

I’m planning on including various tables like this in the Hex Gazetteer. The goal will be to provide DMs with a very quick but very unique, quirky, interesting NPC every time without having to make multiple rolls for species/profession etc. The same philosophy will be applied to encounters and events to make the city feel like it’s overflowing with strange delights and horrors round every corner. The sheer volume of them, like the sheer size of the map, should make Hex feel inexhaustible without using procedural generation techniques.

*“What’ll it be, miss? We’ve got Sarcophagus Ale and Blackeak Brew on tap – and a nice case of Erubescent claret in just Mazeday last…”*

1d100	Character
1	Sir Aart Vex, a Slumsknecht – a gnome lancer clad in scavenged oddments of armour and riding a giant rat steed. Eager for adventure and possessed of an antique and lunatic chivalry. Charges a 5 sp toll for use of his “manorial alleyway.”
2	Blind Sheila, a gorgon whose eyes have been removed and whose serpents have all been defanged, snapping gummily at any who touches them. Sheila’s a member of the Beggars’ Guild and knows many strange secrets from the world’s youth which she’ll divulge for those with sufficient coin.
3	Imogen Lowchurch, last surviving member of the Sixty-Six Rodents, a gang the Crowsbeak Thieves’ Guild destroyed in the Moulting War between criminal organizations in Corvid Commons. Grimy, vicious, wanted by the Crowsbeak, and filled with righteous vengeance. She lives in the sewers, having escaped the wrath of the victors above.
4	Sebastian Rut, cambion artist and hired assassin, exquisitely handsome and perfectly merciless. Long black hair kept in flowing curls around his delicate ivory horns. He paints macabre masterpieces with the blood of his victims. Wanted with a 1000 gp reward; rates vary from 100-500 gp for assassinations.
5	The Husk, an otherwise nameless man who wanders Corvid Commons with ponderous tread, enormous cysts slowly growing on his exposed skin. These cysts are actually incubating the larvae of a being the Husk refers to as “the Angel” which he claims to have met in the Old City. When the cysts pop, the larvae emerge – whining worm-things with grotesque little humanoid faces, like monstrous “Cherubim.” The Husk nurtures these beings somewhere in his underground dwelling, a sewer-hovel he calls “the Cathedral.” No one has seen one of the creatures pupate.
6	Stained Bill, a wild-eyed vagabond, mute, with swirling, magical discolourations all over his skin. The amorphous patterns leech into any organic matter he touches, causing people to grow feverish, fruit to rot, meat to spoil. Reputedly an adventurer whose entire party disappeared in the Old City; only he returned.
7	Zelda Scratch, a bearded lady and footpad; she skulks in the shadows, twirling her goatee in one hand and her blackjack in another, waiting for likely marks to cosh and rob. Wanted for theft, for a 50 gp reward if brought in alive.
8	Lizzie Sneer, a twelve-year-old pickpocket and member of the Jackdaws with a +6 to Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) checks and a taste for expensive jewellery, some of which often decorates her ears, neck, and fingers, despite her otherwise bedraggled appearance.
9	Rumkin the Bold, a waspkin youth with delusions of chivalric heroism and a sword frankly far too big for him. A useful hireling on sojourns to dangerous locales. Absurdly muscular for a tiny waspkin.
10	Adrianus Gaunt, a veteran of the Moon Wars and member of the Beggars’ Guild. His time in the Wolsfwald on the borders of Erubescence left him badly scarred and afflicted with lycanthropy, which he treats with a diet of wolsfbane and powdered sliver; nonetheless, he is subject to partial transformations into lupine form, his teeth occasionally becoming fangs, patches of fur sprouting across his body. If caught by the Warders or City Watch he would doubtless be quarantined in Catch All.
11	Matthias Wode, disgraced City Watchmen, drunk, thrum addict. His limbs gradually fade as his beard and hair lengthen and his mind and liver rot. Does occasional work for the Crowsbeak Guild, whose bribery cost him his job.
12	Toothless Gwen, a wizened, grey-haired soothsayer, can cast Augury for a mere 10 gp, throwing a handful of her own loose, glyph-etched teeth against the wall of the alleyway to prophesy weal or woe.
13	Jenny Greenbeast, a Crowsbeak thief cursed by a magistrate for her crimes with the Curse of Terrible Volume: every breath, word, stomach-grumble, or sneeze she issues is deafeningly, astoundingly loud.
14	The Possum, true name unknown; an escaped inmate from the Institute for the Magically Insane. Due to an enchantment-gone-wrong he believes he is literally a possum and can be found hanging upside-down in unusual places. A member of the Beggars’ Guild, though not an especially productive one.
15	Sir Bartholomew Meddling, a Slumsknecht obsessed with justice, who enforces ludicrous feudal laws within his tiny demesne, wielding a massive zweihänder as he serves as judge, jury, and executioner.
16	Chanterelle Tombsworth, one of the few ghoul courtesans outside of the slums of Shambleside – an “exotic” companion working at the Black Leash, said to have studied for several years at the Académie Macabre before a scandalous expulsion. Rumour has she is the latest muse of Vittoria Wolfsheart, Hex’s foremost playwright of gruesome tragedies and twisted dark comedies.
17	Chartreuse, a fungoid footpad who confuses their marks with clouds of soporific spores.
18	Father Ezekiel Mottlehead, a vagabond priest of the Hanged God, wanders Corvid Commons with a sacred noose around his neck, preaching the doctrine of his strange northern deity and offering to perform hanging rituals to induct passersby into a new order. The official Church of the Hanged God in Trollhome have disavowed his activities.
19	Snips, a rogue barber-goblin from Delirium Castle. He gives excellent haircuts with his sharpened nails and teeth for only 1 sp.
20	Winnie Coldpalm, a ghoul scavenger fresh from the catacomb. Sells corpses stolen from the crypts for 25 gp each. She idly chews on the merchandise.
21	Margery Shackleton, a cheeky Roofsguard who likes practicing her archery on rats and other vermin from several storeys up. Has been known to shoot hats off heads or weapons from hands.
22	Zibb, a homeless gutterpuck. He rapidly changes forms – donkey, dog, cat, giant cockroach, pigeon – to delight passersby. The Beggars’ Guild usually don’t mess with fey, but his gig is becoming profitable enough to attract their ire.
23	Buggle Fogwit, a slack-jawed, fish-headed dagonian member of the Stench, whose mildew reek is coupled with a disgusting piscine stink. Fights with a spiked club with poisoned spikes.
24	Gregor “Whipstitch” Scald, one of the Bonesaw Boys, whose favoured weapons are sharpened surgical scissors wielded like punching daggers and who has developed a taste for humanoid kidneys.
25	Telepathic Tabitha, a mind-reading vagrant and Senior Mendicant in the Beggars’ Guild; can cast Detect Thoughts at will for only 1 sp per minute.
26	Brother Gloaming, a monk dedicated to the Shrouded Lord, known to appear when sacrifices are left at twilight. His features are obscured by the black garments of his order, but his voice is thin and needle-like. He has been entrusted by the Shrouded Lord with knowledge of bloodlines – calling on the power of the Unspeakable One, he can tell any person the names of their parents and grandparents.
27	Archibald Slack, a balding, clever-faced conjuror from Fiend’s College, often found perusing the length of Tatterwing Way in search of banned grimoires that even his institution’s library won’t stock. Has a toad-like imp named Skroi for a familiar.
28	Simone Vertices, a wide-eyed gnome novelist slumming it in Corvid Commons, often found scribbling down stories in the dark corners of the Thieves’ Quarters seediest bars. She is reputedly working on a romance about Crowsbeak and Ravenswing thieves falling in love, the aptly titled Love Among Thieves.
29	Theophilus Grubby-Hook, a philosophical cutthroat and leader of the Tailfeather Fops, much given to existential navel-gazing after relieving his victims of their purses or lives. Blonde, pretty, and terribly tiresome at parties.
30	Patience and Languor Weevilbane, conjoined twins in the Ravenswing Thieves’ Guild renowned for their good looks and expertise in picking locks. The Weevilbane twins each have +8 to checks to open locks and are surprisingly nimble.
31	Nurse Nigella Mothsbrain, the only female member of the Bonesaw Boys. She’s quick with the chloroform and gas grenades – both useful for subduing potential victims – and an ether-addict, much given to ether frolics.
32	Jorok Mosshide, a trollblood brawler and drunken lout prone to making outrageous and dangerous bets when he’s in his cups (which is always).
33	Verena Ratsbabe, a rag-and-bones woman and scavenger from the Midden; one of her hands has wriggling centipedes in place of fingers, courtesy of the eldritch pollution in that district. She sells various curios and junk, some of it magical, often at bargain prices.
34	Desdemona Subtlety, a fence specializing in jewellery and objets d’art. She wears an elaborate porcelain mask magically animated to move with her features; none know what her true visage looks like. Some claim she is one of the Fair Folk.
35	Anaximander Thrush, Solicitor – a lawyer with offices in Golemsgate, frequently to be found in the Witching Hour and other establishments meeting clients. Corpulent, friendly, incredibly intelligent, with a selection of fabulous wigs.
36	Bonifacius Lamentable, a bony leech-collector, often seen on Widdershins Way hawking his wares to the sick. He shambles out to the Radula every dawn, wading into the shallows to attract each day’s catch; his legs are badly scarred as a result.
37	Prowl the Silent, a waspkin pickpocket missing her wings – they were cut off by the Bonesaw Boys and sold to the alchemist Angelique Duvide for her shop, Queen’s Crimson. Prowl runs with the Jackdaws and is a favourite of Sly Rufus. +7 to Dexterity (Sleight of Hand).
38	Yawp, a Brickwose on a shamanic quest from his tribe, the Bat-Eaters. Missing his ears, covered in elaborate ritual scars, and seeking the head of Agnes Greycheek.
39	Palace-Pate, one of the Fair Folk, who has an entire palace populated by miniscule sprites growing out of his head. He speaks with a thick accent and refuses to discuss the palace; some have speculated he is simply its bearer.
40	Elisabeth de l’Abysse, a dhampir bastard from the Crimson City of Erubescence. A sensuous killer, monster-hunter, mercenary. She finds the eternal night of the Midnight Market soothing.
41	Henry Snoresby, out-of-work actor turned Crowsbeak thief. Leading man good looks, but totally wooden on the stage. He’s decent as a pickpocket, though: +5 to Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) checks.
42	Ratgirl, a vigilante dedicated to “cleaning up Corvid Commons,” an insane, impossible, and seemingly suicidal quest. Decked out with magical equipment, she also possesses a preternatural sense of smell and the ability to hide in shadows, scurry up and down walls, and similar abilities. Although she appears quite young, her actual identity is unknown – theories claim she might be a student at one of the magical universities, a rich brat from Fanghill, or an avenging demon. She dresses in rat-fur clothes and wears a gruesome rat-like mask.
43	Danielle Periwinkle has the lower body of a gigantic earwig, ever since she stumbled waist-deep into a pool of alchemical sludge in the Midden. She’s made the most of it and now runs a thriving rickshaw service – just 2 sp to reach anywhere in South Hex.
44	Geoffrey Clattersoul, a Royalist who insists that Xavier Soulswell is the true ruler of Hex and that the city state must be restored to an absolute monarchy. Scrawny and unconvincing; even the aristocratic Slumsknechte find him vaguely obnoxious. Hands out pro-monarchist pamphlets to anyone who will take one.
45	Alaric Mulderwood, a self-taught necromancer who specializes in reanimating body parts. Accompanied by a retinue of crawling reanimated hands and arms, hopping legs, and murmuring heads, embalmed and tattooed with glyphs. His shop hauls itself about south Hex.
46	Houndmoss, an emancipated homunculus encrusted with grey lichen; member of the Beggars’ Guild. A talented street musician with the panpipes, accompanied by a troupe of Charmed raccoons.
47	Many-Blades, a Lengian mercenary swordsman, highly skilled with his mismatched swords, who hangs out at the Ignus Faatus looking for work. He wears a suit of impeccable spidersilk armour.
48	Arthur “Sniffer” Slumply, a curmudgeonly Roofsguard, highly skilled with a crossbow. A nasty spell left his vision damaged, so he wears black glasses at all times, and aims partially through a highly developed sense of smell.
49	Deirdre Scrunch, a changeling street-witch and occasional arsonist with a talent for evocation and ever-shifting hair (length, colour, texture), who is always accompanied by her gutterpuck companion Scuttle.
50	Big Urk, a diminutive fungoid and Crowsbeak enforcer who likes the sound of breaking bones and collects the fingers of those who refused to pay their protection. Generally accompanied by 2d4 Crowsbeak toughs.
51	Millicent Briar, a demure cambion girl of seven who insists she is the Endbringer, a descendent of the Archdemon Moloch, and will break the Seal in Little Pandemonium to usher in an age of brimstone and become Queen of Hell. She is a powerful sorcerer for such a young girl, though much given to tea-parties with broken dolls in the back-alleys of the Commons.
52	Oswald Tealeaf, a gnome tinker and knife-sharpener who can impart a +1 bonus to damage to any slashing weapon for 1 gp; the bonus lasts for one encounter. He can also cast Mending for 5 sp.
53	Gutwrench, a Brickwose often seen carrying her twin boys on her back while raiding. A muscular woman of short stature, her preferred weapon is, appropriately enough, a gigantic wrench; she has a dented manhole cover for a shield. Her tribe are called the Drowned Rats.
54	Barbaros Khatun, a freelance mercenary and veteran of the endless warfare on the Purple Plateau, broad-shouldered, big-bearded, one-eyed, wielding a symbiotic sword and a shield fashioned from the carapace of some otherworldly monster. Hireable for 10 gp per day.
55	Gerrit Impsboon, an eldritch tattooist, sinewy, covered in squirming, tiny sigils; slighted points ears suggest he may be a changeling. He can provide a Thief’s Mark to those with Guild affiliation for 100 gp.
56	Ursula Killing sells jinxcrows, wheeling dozens of cages filled with them in a ramshackle cart. Each crow costs 100 gp and has one random first level spell memorized. A few prized crows worth 250 gp each have memorized a second level spell instead.
57	Abbey Slugswallow, a black-market apothecary; she runs a nomadic little shop selling illicit scrolls of Remove Curse to dodge magistrates’ maledictions, along with various illegal poisons.
58	Delilah Deadrose is a Wraithwaste survivor who spent several years in Catch-All. The disease is cured, but her entire left half is spectral, passing through solid objects. She can see spirits and other Ethereal creatures with her left eye. She now finds her employment as a courtesan on Heartbreak Street.
59	Jacoba van Snout, a Ravenswing illusionist, Fledgling rank, trained at Umbral University. Dark of hair, heart, and humour, she delights in particularly gruesome illusions, often pranking those she meets by magically simulating her own grisly demise.
60	Damien Shrug, a Ravenswing Talon with a stone arm courtesy of a magical trap he triggered during a burglary. Likes a bit of shadetea at the Dark Drop and similar establishments. The arm does prove somewhat useful in a fight.
61	Persimmon Swig, a farmer who got lost on his way to St. Monstrum’s Gate. He is, frankly, pretty terrified at this point, and could someone please help him find his way out of this horrible place? His sheep must be missing him!
62	Captain Joost Lijkburger, a crooked member of the City Watch sometimes glimpsed in plainclothes meeting his contacts at Sallow Sally’s or other establishments. Meaty, pig-eyed, scarred of face, small of brain, large of appetite, bad of breath.
63	Calliope Tumbledown, a skilled lock-picker, pickpocket, and Ravenswing Fledgling, often found honing her skills on random doors and purses throughout south Hex. Short, cropped hair, a quick smile and quicker fingers.
64	Byzou, an emancipated demon possessing a large doll resembling a well-dressed boy of noble birth, cracked and fissured with unholy energies, glyphs adorning its cheeks. He is a member of the Magpie Consortium and an expert on diabolic artefacts.
65	Razor the Droll, a waspkin satirist who writes and illustrates for the column “Razor Wit” for the seditious newspaper Counterspell. He has an impressive moustache (especially for a waspkin) and a flair for caricatures.
66	Phillipe Trench, a Crowsbeak second-storey man cursed by a magistrate for breaking and entering. He is deathly phobic of open windows as a result of the curse and compulsively closes them in any room he is in. To be honest, open doors aren’t great, either. Or trapdoors. Or manholes. Or latrines. Cabinets. Closets. Any opening, really. Could you close your mouth, please? It’s disturbing.
67	Luciana Fenris, an adventurer-librarian, tawny-haired and ruthless of demeanour; she is employed by the Institute of Omens and is often found in Crowsbeak Commons in search of certain volumes sometimes for sale on Tatterwing Way.
68	Edwina Ramsfoot, a Bloodworm tough renowned for her skill with whips. Statuesque, no-nonsense, enjoys the fights at the Butcherbird Fighting Pits on Shrike Street. Heavy Incarnadine user.
69	Acrid “Doomblade” Morrigan, a pretentious teenage poet and freelance mercenary who dresses all in black leather armour and carries a gigantic sword. He’d be completely laughable were it not for his genuine martial and magical talent: he’s a sorcerer and swordsman of considerable natural ability. A would-be adventurer, he’s looking for a party to accompany, and can be quite an asset for a group willing to put up with recitations of extraordinarily overwrought and melancholy verse.
70	Persephone Lilac, an adventurer of some renown, dungeon-pale and strangely scarred, is unstuck from time, skipping across its surface like a peddle across a lake. Ever since she ran afoul of the Sundial-headed Knight in Elfhame she experiences every other hour of time, disappearing for an hour and reappearing with no memory of the interim. The time between skips is very slowly shrinking.
71	Klub Stoneclaw, a trollblood cook, hulkingly muscular and massive of belly, jovial of disposition; renowned for his eel-tarts, which he sells for 5 cp each from a little cart. Beautiful runic tattoos on his expansive biceps and forearms.
72	Amelia Flinch, a former Hexmarine in the navy, who fought during the Ichor Wars. She is now a Roofsguard, but still walks with a limp due to the living shells embedded in her left calf, courtesy of parasite-guns of the Gelatinous Empire.
73	Xanthus Joy, a Ravenswing burglar renowned for his beautiful golden hair, obsession with stealing sacred artefacts, and daring approach to thievery. A libertine, and the subject of many romantic fantasies in Corvid Commons and indeed throughout the city.
74	Otto de Wilde, sometimes said to be the strongest man in Hex, though there are rivals for that title, particularly among the trollbloods. This seven foot-tall, hulking man – a Bloodworm enforcer covered in crimson worm tattoos – can bend steel bars and perform similar feats quite easily. He occasionally fights in the Butcherbird Fighting Pits.
75	Varicose Strum, an elementalist who specializes in blood magic, controlling people using their blood or animating gouts of the stuff to form weapons, armour, servants. Debonair, epicene, slender, chalk-pale, dresses all in red.
76	Sister Stygian, a cultist of the Shrouded Lord who appears to petitioners on moonless nights. She is swathed in back cloth but is long of limb and carries a censer of velvety incense. The Shrouded Lord has entrusted her with knowledge of the secrets of death, and for the right sacrifice she can discern the cause and time of any person’s death, though never the identity of their killer.
77	Flamingo, a fungoid fence of the Magpie Consortium, bright pink and sweet-smelling, covered in vivid sacs, usually clad in voluminous dresses with dozens of Pockets of Holding sewn into the fabric.
78	Gabrielle Ankh, a rag-and-bones woman whose junk-cart is piled high with musical instruments, rusty firearms, bent cutlery, and a live bird’s nest with her pet jinxcrow, Giltbeak, whose ensorcelled, sigil-graven beak has been known to occasionally transmute objects to gold for a few brief moments when pecked (the result of a spellshower – see Phenomena for details).
79	Astra Scudd, a gnomish poison-seller with terrible chemical burns, false teeth, and a cheerful manner.
80	Musty Moll, a member of the Stench, one of Noisome Nancy’s lieutenants. Skeleton-thin and brown-toothed, with sharpened iron implants in place of nails. She has a serious Ghostdust habit and sees spirits everywhere.
81	Ezra Metatron, a priest of the Thousand-Suckered-One, who frequently ministers to the poor in Corvid Commons. Massive of girth and of generosity, he and his acolytes distribute medicinal tonics, food, and religious pamphlets. His limbs are puckered with angry red scars from his ritual couplings with the Cephalopod Saints in his order’s temple.
82	Judith Swanskull, a cambion gunfighter and highwaywoman of great derring-do. She often lounges in Corvid Commons in-between jobs on the road. There’s a 250 gp price on her head. Crimson hair and vestigial bat-wings courtesy of her succubus mother.
83	Wendolyn Froth, a Crowsbeak thief caught and cursed by a magistrate to be followed by a miniature stormcloud for the next six years. It rains down on her in a soft drizzle most of the time, but begins to pour rain if she lies, and electrocutes her if she commits any outright crimes. Currently a member of the Beggars’ Guild.
84	Chrysanthemum, a renegade homunculus in the Ravenswing Thieves’ Guild – cheeky, preternaturally stealthy, specializing in “hiding in plain sight” as a house plant in the homes of the wealthy.
85	Maxime Smack, one of the Jackdaws, a dagonian orphan just out of her larval stage, mottled yellow-brown scales, often found selling scavenged treasures culled from the muddy depths of sewer-tunnels.
86	Nibbling Oliphant, a second-rate pickpocket and Tailfeather Fop with expensive taste in clothes but clumsy fingers. He tries his best, but ever since the mousetrap incident his game’s been off.
87	Dorothea Rabid, a voluptuous ghoul courtesan expelled from the Courtesans’ Guild for murdering a client for unknown reasons. Moonlights as a freelance assassin. Huge yellow eyes.
88	Gash the Bodger, a waspkin messenger and petty thief who is also a minor mechanist, building rusty clockwork toys from scavenged scrap.
89	The Switchskin, one of the Fair Folk, who during the day is a manic, violent, whimsical, lecherous prankster, and during the night is a preternaturally calm sage of immense wisdom. He can occasionally be seen in The Lady with the Bloodstained Fan on Carrion Street.
90	Harry Sluaghwarren, a ghoul costermonger who specializes in eels, hot and jellied, avaliable with pie and mash. His cries of “JELLIED EELS” and “EELS ’N MASH” can be heard for some distance.
91	Virgil the Noseslicer, a terrifying Crowsbeak cutthroat, beloved in some circles, known for his dislike of the City Watch and his keen ability to detect plain-clothes officers (“Noses”). He keeps a grisly series of trophies – literal sliced-off noses – on a string round his brawny neck.
92	Charles “Pighead” Perrottet, a criminal originally from Erubescence, captured by Hexian authorities and polymorphed into a pig as punishment. He was liberated and partially transformed back, but the Dispel went badly wrong dueto some wild magic current or the incompetence of the caster (he insists the latter) that has left him half-human, half-pig, permanently. A member of the Crowsbeak Thieves’ Guild.
93	Empty, a shadowmilk-drinker who has not spoken in thirteen years, black of eye and lip, nondescript of clothing and face. They appear unpredictably when jobs need doing, without being summoned or contracted, and inevitably do whatever needs to be done, exhibiting an incredibly broad array of skills in exchange for coin, usually only a guinea (1 gp). Those that refuse to pay Empty for their labour are cursed with nightmares of unbelievable horror for weeks or months on end, sometimes going permanently mad.
94	The Vinemother, an aged druidess who lives in Mooncross but journeys across Hex planting tiny plants everywhere she goes, nurtured with magic, in a vain but endless war against the industrial sprawl of the metropolis. Long white hair strewn with leaves, clad in ragged garments of leaves and vines.
95	Notch, a Brickwose warlord usually accompanied by a band of 2d6 marauders, inevitably on a raid for food, clothing, and thralls; covered in scars and wielding a serrated glaive.
96	Backbreak Ben, a wiry but muscular ghoul gladiator renowned for his signature spine-snapping move in the Butcherbird Fighting Pits. Actually quite a gentle soul outside of the Pits, but an utter maniac within them.
97	Corina Crumbsmoot, a pockmarked, taciturn woman; a dead-cart driver, she rolls through Corvid Commons every Boneday collecting corpses to sell to the Reanimators’ Guild in Shambleside. She pays between 10 and 50 gp per corpse depending on its species and state of decomposition.
98	Carmelita the Crustacean Courtesan promises an unforgettable experience for the discerning lady, gentleman, or any who lieth betwixt. Half-transformed during a magical accident into a hybrid of woman and shellfish, her exoskeleton glistens with cheap gemstones, adjacent to pearlescent human flesh, advertised from the delicate balcony from which she beseeches passersby. Those with sufficient coin (100 gp) to patronize her boudoir will also find her rich in philosophical conversation.
99	Cynosure van Rump, a scrawny anathemist covered in eldritch tattoos, who summons tentacular horrors from distant dimensions through his guts – his belly expands rapidly and he vomits forth stomach-conjured monsters. Perpetually ill-looking.
100	Jangling Jane, a lockpick-merchant. Most of her merchandise is contained in her gigantic tunnelswine-leather coat, from which her epithet is derived: hundreds and hundreds of lockpicks, skeleton keys, and specific keys to doors scattered throughout the city, which she sells for anything from 5cp to 1500 gp.

If you like what you see here and want to read more of this larger setting, check out Genial Jack: Volume 1, including NPCs, districts, and playable species in a city within a giant whale.

Jack is Here!

By Bearded-Devil

On December 2, 2019

In Roleplaying

The first issue of Genial Jack is available for purchase in Print + PDF from DriveThruRPG!

Some reviews of Genial Jack: Volume 1:

Reviews from R’lyeh – “All Aboard the Godwhale”
Halls of the Nephilim – “It feels like Planescape in the belly of a whale”
Spes Magna Games – “Whale Ho!”
Planet X Games
Monster Man Podcast
Thought Eater Podcast
Genial Jack – Totally Normal™ Zine Review

Genial Jack is a serialized setting of nautical weirdness and whimsy – horrors and wonders from the deep, mysterious isles, absurd pirates, surreal monsters, sentient storms, and, of course, a whale the size of a mountain. Each volume will reveal some aspect of the bizarre seascape traversed by Genial Jack, beginning with an account of Jackburg itself – the ramshackle, symbiotic city built atop and within the beneficent Godwhale.

Within the first volume you’ll find:

12 playable species, the chief denizens of Jackburg.
A gazetteer of the myriad districts of Outer and Inner Jackburg
Descriptions of the government, laws, and criminal organizations of the town
Jackburg slang
20 quick NPCs
A centerfold map

Inspired by the likes of Gulliver’s Travels, Tales of Baron Munchausen, and New Weird urban fantasy, Genial Jack iswritten for 5^th edition but easily adaptable to any fantasy tabletop game.

More Maps

By Bearded-Devil

On December 2, 2019

In Roleplaying

The party decided to go to Erubescence – a rival city state of Hex and it’s occasional ally in local wars – to seek its help in dealing with the vengeful ghosts of the Penumbral Empire.

So, that means I had another map to make.

If you like what you see here, I’m actually publishing parts of this campaign world sequentially. The first two volumes – Genial Jack: Volume 1 and Genial Jack Volume 2 – are available for purchase in Print + PDF at DriveThruRPG.

Its sinister towers rise high into the blackness above, rivalled only by the ancient menhirs of the ogres. Foremost amongst these spires are the castles of the nine Houses of the Blood, vampiric families sired by the Night Queen, as well as the foreboding silhouette of Castle Crepuscule, abode of the Night Queen herself, most ancient of vampires, said by some to be the first of her kind.

The lively docks of Pulsetown bustle with activity. Garishly painted and brightly lit with coloured lamps, the district forms a stark contrast with the dark metropolis of stone which broods around it, a pocket of life and light amid the tenebrosity of Erubescence. The folk here are mostly living, this district being largely inhabited by “the Quick” – that is, the so-called Third Order, behind those fully undead, such as the vampiric nobility and clergy, and the half-undead or demi-living, such as dhampir, ghostbreed, revenants, and the possessed.

Tottering buildings emerge from the murky water of the Drowned District, linked together with rickety wooden bridges and platforms, many ramshackle new structures, others partially-ruinous buildings whose top floors protrude from the Lagoon. Boats flit everywhere, with a regular ferry joining Charnel End and the Court of Cannibals.

The Skin Markets reek of embalming fluid, ozone, and animals, the air filled with the guttural groans of the zombie thralls in the aptly-named Moanmart, the whimpers of living thralls in the Chainmart, and the animal grunts of livestock in the Squealmart. Merchants herd the various creatures, living and undead, through the streets on their way to the market wards, sometimes in cages in wagons.

The slums of Fleaford in southeast Erubescence reek of wet dogs. The bridge leading over the canal can be raised like a drawbridge, cutting it off from the rest of the city. Rain drizzles down on the ramshackle wooden buildings, mottled with rot and graffiti, the clannish runes of werewolf packs. The folk here are mostly of the Quick, but the vast majority bear the obvious signs of lycanthropy, here undisguised: tawny eyes, profusions of hair, pointed canine ears, mouths crowded with wolfish teeth. The lupine underclass eye outsiders with suspicion. Some lope in wolf form, scratching themselves, barking at one another, scrapping in alleyways.

During the Shadesblood War with Penumbra, the ghost-city from whose ancient empire the Night Queen herself is said to have once hailed, Erubescence was assaulted in the Ethereal Plane, as hundreds of ghosts flooded into the city. Though many were successfully exorcised, the once-resplendent district of Limboville remains haunted. Some of the spirits who linger here are Penumbral in origin, soldiers still clinging tenaciously to their posts; most, however, are ghosts that Erubescence itself created, the spirits of criminals executed and then intentionally reanimated to form the Wraithguard, an army of ghosts the Sanguine Lords and Ladies used to fight on Ethereal battlefields. The remains of their spectral barracks can be found in the midst of the dilapidated houses, but mostly the former homes of the wealthy have been converted into shared communes where ghostbreed citizens – half-ghosts, their phantasmal blood diluted with that of mortals – live and work.

The upscale district of Bloodfen is the domain of the dhampir: the half-vampiric bourgeoisie of Erubescence. Lacking the privileges of their vampiric ancestors, they have compensated with wealth, but where the vampiric aristocracy revel in sumptuous excess, many dhampir are more understated, reflecting a decidedly middle-class work ethic. Elegant charcoal suits a few shades lighter than absolute black are favoured by dhampir of all genders, again in contrast to the lavish gowns and frock coats of the nobility. Dhampir sip cups of coffee laced with blood and read the latest broadsheets in coffee-shops on the corners.

Here are some close-ups to show how detailed this got. For the most part I’d say this one is even more detailed than the Hex map when it comes to individual structures.

The map is the same size as the Hex map. It looks great printed out, and a good spot for a cat to nap!

Two Sample Streets and Factions for the Hex Gazetteer

By Bearded-Devil

On November 29, 2019

In Roleplaying

Here are two sample streets from the Hex Gazetteer I’m working on, and the factions associated with them. Every street in Hex is receiving similar treatment.

Tailfeather Alley

Colourful silks flutter in the greasy breeze, courtesy of the costermongers hawking rags and stolen clothes along the alley’s length. Some strangely tattooed, malformed people mingle with the crowds.

Encounter: A thrashing, skinless, tentacular blob – a Cancroid – bursts forth from the Anathemist Commune and rampages towards the party, gibbering in Aklo and leaving a trail of sizzling, poisonous blood. 1d4 Anathemists emerge after it.

Anathemist Commune: A small commune of Anathemists – warlocks dedicated to summoning and conversing with the denizens of the surreal dimension of Anathema – operates on Tailfeather Alley: about a dozen men, women, and epicenes of various species, elaborately tattooed, many with tendrils in places of arms, blooms of additional eyes along the sides of their heads, polypous growths, masses of waving cilia radiating from their backs, and other mutations, the result of exposure to the reality-warping energies of Anathema. Their rundown commune is covered in arcane graffiti; the windows display weird lights during the night. The leader of the commune is Zachariah Finch, a wild-eyed man with a mass of tiny crab-pincers sprouting from his face like a chitinous goatee.

Mister Pincushion’s Petticoats and Pantaloons: The curious specimen of the Fair Folk known as Mister Pincushion has claimed this shop as his own. An almost perfectly spherical elf whose body is pierced with thousands of tiny pins, whose fingernails are needles, and whose hair is an endlessly growing mane of yarn and other fibres, which he can grow in a multitude of colours, this mincing, surprisingly dextrous creature makes garments in this sprawling tailor’s shop, often with Faerie glamers woven into them, unbeknownst to the purchaser. The garments are of decent quality but bizarre cut; Mister Pincushion seems relatively unconcerned with wealth, and appears to be running the shop as part of a kind of working vacation from Elfhame “for a century or two.” Rumour has that he was banished by Queen Mab for unspecified indecencies. When not in his shop he can sometimes be found drinking at The Lady with the Bloodstained Fan on Carrion Street.

Tailfather Fops’ Hideout: The ostentatious hideout of the Tailfather Fops can be found here – a shabby but well-decorated rookery where the louche decadents of the Fops lounge about smoking black cigarillos and swilling absinthe between robberies. They are often seen strolling down to Heartbreak Street with full purses and swaggering strides. Their rookery itself is adorned with all manner of stolen finery, jewels, fine clothes, and other gewgaws. In the basement is a secret entrance to the sewers which the Fops use to come and go discretely.

Widdershins Way

Illicit apothecaries, dodgy alchemist’s shops, unlicensed surgeries, and similar establishments advertise with grotty wooden signs and tinted lamps shaped like hearts, livers, brains, and other organs, presumably to indicate specializations. Members of the terrifying surgeons-cum-street-warriors known as the Bonesaw Boys hang about here, selling illegally obtained humanoid limbs and organs.

Encounter: Trapped cobblestones (see Phenomena) often protect this street from the Watch and other non-thieves. There is a 50% chance of encountering 2d6 Bonesaw Boys who may menace the party demanding money, blood, or body parts.

The Mists of Memory: A sign out front of this shop has a list of prices: “Minor Memory Modification – 50 guineas,” “Temporary Amnesia – 100 guineas,” “Mind Wipe – 200 guineas,” and the like. In the window are displayed a whole series of model heads like those of mannequins, painted with phrenological diagrams. A humming human woman with a severe grey bun, Griselda Flex, is the proprietor of the shop; its interior is filled with charts and models both mundane and magical, all of brains, skulls, and heads from a wide variety of species, including all the sentient species of Hex. She can cast Modify Memory and variants of the spell for the prices advertised outside.

Dr. Murgatroyd’s Cures & Curses: Judging from the somewhat anguished noises emanating from within, this decrepit medical establishment is not quite up to the standards of the physicians in Caulchurch or Ambery. Inside is a dirty waiting room with incredibly gruesome and dubiously accurate anatomical dolls that can be disassembled and reassembled. Dr. Murgatroyd himself is here at all times of the day and night – a gnome man with tinted glasses, generally clad in a soaking crimson coat and carrying a serrated saw, clockwork drill, or some similarly macabre medical instrument.

Dr. Murgatroyd sells discount Potions of Healing (Common) for 40 gp each, though in addition to healing 2d4+2 hit points they have a 50% chance of having a bizarre side effect. Roll 1d6: (1) begin growing a third arm with a mouth on its palm that speaks in an uncanny version of your voice – when fully formed, the arm detaches, dealing 1 damage, and goes its own way; (2) your stomach murmurs in dead languages for 24 hours, creating disadvantage on Stealth checks; (3) you are blinded for 24 hours but experience bizarre visions of what may be the distant future, gaining Inspiration; (4) every orifice begins bleeding slowly, dealing 1 hit point of damage per hour for the next 1d20 hours; (5) you begin puking torrents of slippery fish (treat as the Grease spell) for one minute; (6) your teeth have turned to gold, permanently – each is worth 5gp if extracted, but eating can be a bit tricky.

Queen’s Crimson: This large reagent shop is often visited by reputable mages throughout Hex, albeit in magical disguise. It openly sells many prohibited alchemical reagents such as human kidneys, dagonian eggs, waspkin wings, vampire blood, and gorgongas. There are even globules containing captive puddleweirds, which can be hurled like living grenades. The proprietress is Angelique Duvide, a tall, skeleton-thin changeling woman with a too-wide smile and eyes that don’t ever seem to blink.

The Tailfeather Fops

Perhaps the most ridiculous gang in Corvid Commons, the Tailfather Fops are a collection of well-dressed footpads with pretensions of sophistication. An independent gang with ties to the Ravenswing Thieves’ Guild, they nonetheless pay a cut of their income to the Crowsbeak Thieves’ Guild to continue operating. They specialize in robbing shops in richer parts of town, blending in with the well-dressed crowds and artfully stuffing goods into the many pockets of their elaborate frock coats. In other instances they have been known to hold up carriages and wagons, adorning their faces with masks of porcelain or papier-mâché. The Fops – led by the sighing philosopher-thief Theophilus Grubby-Hook – are sworn enemies of the Stench a few streets over, and their bloody skirmishes have interrupted many a night’s sleep.

The Bonesaw Boys

Clad in the beaked masks and antique robes of old-fashioned plague doctors and wielding an eclectic range of repurposed medical equipment, the vicious Bonesaw Boys are brutal cutthroats sworn to the Crowsbeak Thieves’ Guild. They operate throughout the Commons and surrounding districts, ambushing lone pedestrians at night and harvesting their organs, which they sell to Dr. Murgatroyd on Widdershins Way, or to unlicensed reanimators like the Marionettist. The leader of the Bonesaw Boys is a sentient tumour known as the Goiter, excised after it kills its previous host, inevitably some wretched sod who owed the Boys money, and forcibly implanted into a fresh victim. Apart from the Bloodworms they are the most feared of the Crowsbeak vassal-gangs, though they prefer to take their victims alive, for experimentation. Their hideout is off Cruel Claw Alley.