Sigmund’s Journal

This was written as an addendum to Dakota Irish’s short module called The King of The Fair.

Entry #1

My parents are leaving for the capital, and the old apothecary is now in my care, I shall do my best to uphold my parents’ work for the town, even if there are still recipes I’m unsure about. Hopefully I can pick up some new recipes from tradesfolk soon enough. I’ll start by taking stock, so I know what I’ll be needing to run the shop smoothly.

Entry #5

These Apple Tree Mushrooms are interesting, while the taste is somewhat bitter on it’s own, it does seem to actually act as a kind of fruity sweetener for the more regular potions. So far it doesn’t seem to hold any remedial effects in the potions, but that might come down to the type of mixing. I shall stride to research this further, whenever I have an excess amount of supplies.

Entry #17

I have received a letter from my mother this day, my father has passed and is being buried in the capital. She says that he spoke of some historical research that he was partaking in relation to Ballydorey and it’s Puck Fair. Supposedly there’s a darker reason to why the town have remained untouched by bandits and raiders for so long. Mother didn’t know where father’s notes were left, she would search through his items in their new home, but urged me to look through some of the older books on the shelves. Thankfully summer is fairly calm when it comes to the need for an apothecary.

Entry #29

I have spoken to some of the village elders, but have mostly been met by ignorance, or even hostility. The old man McCleary told me to stop poking into things, that I had no understanding of, clearly the message was to not research something that wasn’t a problem. Others were more forthcoming, telling me what little they know. The Puck Fair have, or so it seems, always been named that. One suggested it was named after a long-dead king or ruler named Puckard the Bright. I have my doubts to this, as, if knowledge serves me right, Puckard’s rule was several hundred miles from here. I suppose it could have been started by travellers, but I find it unlikely.

Entry #33

Finally a breakthrough! I found my father’s notes, tugged in between a book about calcinator maintenance, and the “Living Ingredients III: Frogs & Snakes”. I’ve had no need to look there, as the calcinator was one of the first books I memorized, and there haven’t been any snakes seen in these parts for the better part of several centuries. Father’s idea seemed to stem in a pact of some sort, with a creature not of this realm. I shall have to seek guidance on such matters. I work more in plants, herbs, and roots than in magic and the tethers between this plane and others. Maybe the Cleric will be able to give me some pointers.

Entry #34

I’ve managed to narrow the likely suspects down, it seems very unlikely that this is the work or contract of a fiend, and I think a celestial would not need to bind good-hearted, faithful citizens. It is most likely a Fey creature, bound to serve the town somehow. I doubt many creatures would accept being bound in service for as long as this one though.

I have spoken with Brighid, who listened intently to my theory. She said that the crypts of the temple holding the dead of the town for generations, get… “lively”, the dead stirs, particular around harvest and the Puck Fair. That can’t be a coincidence. I’ll gather knowledge on the fey creatures, perhaps if I can more precisely determine the specific creature, I can help save the town from a doom of the undead.

Entry #36

The Puck Fair is in a month, and the “King of the Fair” is essential. I have found the creature to likely be a Púca, a shapeshifter of a malicious nature. It seems the yearly sacrifice of the goat, rebinds the Púca to the town’s service, but surely this contract would weaken over time. The thing is, I don’t know where Púca is physically bound, somewhere in town surely, but where? Perhaps Brighid knows, she maintains the crypts and have lived for a while already.

Entry #37

I have constructed cages meant for fey creatures, as well as a brass lantern. If I have configured the lantern correctly, it should be able to serve as homunculi for the shapeshifter, if destroyed in this prison, the Púca SHOULD be destroyed for good. Otherwise it might just seek another host. I just hope my efforts aren’t too little, too late.

Solanacea, High Elf Rogue in Emon (Tal’Dorei)

Growing up on the estate in Southgate Farms, Solanacea had a fairly sheltered childhood. Most of her nearby age-mates were sons and daughters of farmers, and thus less likely to be free to play. Not that her parents, Dauces & Preasica, would allow for much mingling with the, to them, lower classes of society anyway. Solanacea was taught to behave, and more importantly, to be silent unless spoken to.

The estate and its lands had a view of Greyskull Keep, the fortress formerly belonging to the heroes of Vox Machina, which her parents never failed to mention to guests. Naturally, the people that her parents DID mingle with, were either of similar (perceived) importance or of a higher standing in Emon as a whole. With at least one ball or social call a month, sometimes lasting for several days, Solanacea spent several days left to her own devices, save for the servants, whom she was cordially friendly with, whenever her parents were not around.

During one of such stints, she would dress in the darkest clothes available, and sneak out of the hours of darkness had settled over Southgate, surely there would be some other noble estate, where someone of her own age-like state of mind would reside, and maybe they could talk. She, admittedly, had not thought the next steps fully through, as the nightly venture had been the main focus of her planning. Observing the routes of the night watchmen and their dogs, noting down the faces of the moon, and even the usual bedtimes and sleeping patterns of the more important members of the estate’s staff.

Moving closer to the city walls of inner Emon, she finally saw a house that looked both sufficiently large, as well as sufficiently dark and silent. Even though she hadn’t had previous stints of running away, her parents had her room door closed and shut with a lock and key. And in the late hours of her years, she had practiced with hair pins, combs, writing quills, and other utensils to jimmy the lock open. As such, the kitchen entry way to this estate was not much hassle to open. She carefully snuck up to the private chambers, finding them unlocked and unoccupied, she began searching through for signs of someone like herself. If her stint was succesful, she had planned on revisiting some other time, in hopes of getting in contact with said youth.

The estate that she had chosen however, was one of a pair of heirless nobles, no children, young or adult, was present here. Instead a secondary bedroom had been turned into a study, with books, ledgers, list of purchases and other records. A locked drawer in a desk intrigued her, yielding it’s contents with some work of the lock. It was a love-letter from another noble, clearly one of the estate’s inhabitants was having an affair. Memorizing the contents of the letter, she decided to head home for the night, as the sun would soon set, and her parents might come home, come morning.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline of her nightly stint that was still in her, but she decided to tell her parents about the letter, she caught herself thinking she was in trouble, but the smirks on her parents faces, told of a different outcome. Instead of a stern talking, her parents now become overly sweet, but very much still controlling. Her father took her on shopping trips for clothing in the city, specifically pointing out which noble lived where. At first she didn’t understand exactly why this sudden change of personality in her parents came to be, but it was better than being a show-piece at home. It was first much, much later that she realized the truth of the matter; her parents was using her in order to blackmail other nobles, and she could do nothing about it.

The thought of the scale of her deed made her stomach cramp up, she was an accomplice, and every time, the arrogant smirks of her parents would haunt her in her trances. She had the means to run, it would be easy in fact, but where would she go? She knew basically no-one in the city, and certainly not outside of it either. Her parents had severed connections to both their families, and she had never once been able to assert why, except for one time when her mother had hummed a tune of tribute, dedicated to someone named “Riskel Daxio”, but Solanacea was not familiar with the name.

Finally, after having revisited one of her previous break-ins, Solanacea saw the effects of the blackmail. The estate was cold, despite the long nights of winter approaching with steadfast gales, there was no joy in this building, but the tension and anxiety was palpable, she even saw a member of staff, sleep-deprived and paranoid. The realization made her almost reveal herself, as a sickening dry-heave forced its way out from her throat; she was the cause of this. She couldn’t take it anymore, how many households had been destroyed because of secrets she had uncovered? How many lives ruined? It was unbearable. She would return home only once more, to collect all the gear that her parents had bought for her, prober tools and armor. And that would be that, never to return. If possible.

A new life was waiting somewhere else in the city, hopefully, far, far way from the manacles of her family.

Darya Ithmuth Oreff, Tiefling Bard

Darya’s illustrious career had steadily been increasing in popularity, gaining her fame for a powerful stage presence and talented song performances. Although her first rise to fame was with an all Elven group (she doesn’t speak Elvish), it was clear that her drive and passion would lead her to something bigger. She joined another troupe, after being persuaded by another famous bard, Ricardo Whiteless, this group, with the gimmick of wearing very colourful clothes, was touring village to village, with throngs of people listening to them, and to Darya’s singing.

While in between playing gigs and writing on new songs, Darya took sometime off for herself, not going fully anonymous, but also not actively performing for the sake of searching for new inspiration among the people that she was playing for, listening to and helping with their issues where possible. While on this ramble, she stumbled upon another group of bards, who were struggling with their own material, and Darya agreed to help them out, believing that her stage presence and charisma could improve their already good lineup. This groups’ gig was to only play once a week, wearing all dark clothes when performing. This had started rumours that they were doing illicit things on all the other days, but this aura of mysticism also caused more interest in their performances, which Darya’s contribution very much was a big part of.

Eventually growing tired of the accusations of theft and occultism that stuck to the troupe’s odd behaviour, Darya left them on good terms, feeling restrained and locked in her professional capabilities. Thus striking out on her own again, she had to start mostly small. While travelling, she came upon the small township of Reevenmor, living in the oppressive shadow of a tyrannical magister. Seeing an opportunity, Darya began writing songs and poems about, thinly veiled, the leader of the resistance. This eventually sparked a storm on the magister’s tower, and the town was freed again.

Pah-We, The Kobold Sorcerer

Upon hatching, it was clear that Pah-We was different than most his egg-siblings, causing small sparks of harmless magic to flicker around him and the objects he came into contact with. Naturally, having some clear aptitude with magic, Pah-We was handed over to the care and tutorship of the tribe’s shaman. This tutelage did not last long, as Pah-We’s magic became more potent, seemingly with age, it also began to cause damage to items, including covering a carved head of The Great Black Mother in ice-crystals. Had this been almost any other artifact, perhaps this wouldn’t have been so bad, but The Great Black Mother was the Ancient Black Dragon, that the Keeka Draj saw as their matron. Despite the Dragon itself having been slain several decades ago by adventurers.

At the age of 7, just barely mature by Kobold standards, he was promptly exiled from the tribe, without any possessions to his name. The first year or so he spent scavenging, surviving on a mixture of plants, berries and fish, in the nearby forests close to his clan’s home. While his understanding of his abilities, in terms of magic, became clearer, he had no way to focus the magic, making the effects vary wildly, thus making them less useful for anything but predator deterrence.

One day, while exploring the far parts of the forest, Pah-We came upon a group of travelers, who were making camp. Curious as he was, he approached the camp (honestly drawn by the smell of a roast). This was his first ever interaction with any sentient race beyond the wildlife in the forest and his clan, at first the merchants and their guards were cautious, bordering on hostile, as groups of Kobolds (from Pah-We’s tribe) had been attacking caravans along the nearby road. Seeing that Pah-We was alone, and thus not really a threat. Instead, by request of on of the merchants, a man named Lawrence Bostrom, they took Pah-We in as curiosity.

One of Lawrence’s first acts was to construct a mechanical orb, made mostly from brass, telling Pah-We to attempt to focus his magic abilities through the orb. This orb was what Pah-We had needed to focus his magic, suddenly gaining a medium of control to channel his magic. This gave him a huge boost to his self-confidence.

The caravan of merchants arrived a some days early for the Feat Festival, having time to set up their stalls and getting a feel for the vibes in town. While Pah-We went out in town to attempt to scheme money, food, or anything of value, meeting with little success, before coming upon an elderly Half-Elven lady named Sylphira. Sylphira had tried, but seemed unable to get children of her own, and though Pah-We was mischievous, he had enough charm (and the size). And Pah-We spent the next couple of days acting as Sylphira’s newly adopted child. Pah-We grew fond of her, even handing back, unseen, some candlesticks that he had otherwise acquired from the house. And then it was time for the festival.

Adventure in Veteris, The Journal of Cerin Athis, Part 1

The frost was causing my hands to tremble, and I couldn’t feel my toes, despite making sure that my boots had no holes in them. I guess it was the insufferable waiting, sitting in that cart and just… waiting, not doing anything. I knew it would be cold, but I had never imagined it to be this cold. Still, better than bleak, crushingly uncomfortable Shadowfell, but I’d almost prefer a Moon Elf prison cell to… whatever this is meant to be. It’s not entirely clear to me, what the Moon Elves wants to get out of this, but if it earns my freedom anew, then I am not going to complain in the slightest. At least I’m not alone in this; another capture of the Moon Elves has been given the same offer. I have yet to ask this Tiefling what they could have done to earn the ire of my distant cousins, but I feel, unless it comes up, maybe that’s a topic best left unspoken, as they haven’t asked me the reason either. I’d probably tell a lie or something ridiculous, if nothing else, to inform them that I was unwilling to talk about it. My Tiefling compatriot looks capable, a bit more the outdoorsy type, though it seems clear to me, that they too would rather be almost anywhere else at this moment.

Our task was laid out simply enough, and from what I could tell, there was no catch-22 or any other unsaid meaning. Not like “just acquire a golden hand mirror from a noble-woman” and not being informed that the lady had bodyguards enough to resemble a small band of mercenaries. No, all that we would need to do, was to rescue a Gnome Wizard, preferably alive, from a clan of Goblins hiding out in a cave. I’ve had dealings with a few Goblins, though they were individuals moving in the same… circles, as I used to, but no experience dealing with the cultural difference that a supposedly tight-knit group would impose. Fortunately, it seemed Peach, my Tiefling travel-buddy, had some knowledge prior to this task.

Honestly, a cave doesn’t feel like the worst place right now, at least it’s sheltered from the chilly winds, even if it’s no city back-alley. Though the assault on my senses that would follow, certainly made me rethink that statement rather quickly. The stench was horrid, and it almost felt as if my eyes were burning, but things would only get worse. Through the smells of upheaved food and questionable beverages, there was a more pervasive odor. The Goblins had recently been feasting, perhaps a succesful raid or some sort of Goblin-significant holiday? We were likely about to find out. I did appreciate that the cave at least was silent, I am not familiar with Goblin taste in music, but I don’t imagine it to be a pleasant sound. No guards were posted outside, or just inside the cave, but from the sounds and smells, we would surely face them soon enough.

Both Peach and I were able to move in quite far in, without being detected by the Goblins, who seemed to be sleeping a night of heavy partying off. Those that did wake up, were no match and were quickly dispatched, without alerting any one else. Coming across a larger group, sitting at campfire, I caused a distraction at the far end of the cave, clearing the way deeper into the cave, no Gnomes or Wizards spotted thus far. Nor the remains of either, I’d say, though there was an abundance of various bones, I had not felt the need to examine any of them closer. We had enough to do in keeping ourselves from ending up among them.

The scent of Goblin excrement was much fouler, and more intense, as the cave descended downward, it also got a lot more narrow. Now, I don’t mind a narrow, dark space, but I’m less enthusiastic when there’s potentially a Goblin just waiting around the next bend. Apart from a few incidents, of a most unpleasant nature, we managed to sneak and trick our way past the Goblins, and came across a talking chest. Yes, I couldn’t believe it either at first, I thought for sure it was some kind of trick. I, like many an shady tavern-goer, had heard the tales of Mimics; creatures able to perfectly mimic the appearance of everyday items, only to lunge and attack, for the sake of eating a hapless victim. It did claim to be friendly, and I didn’t feel any kind of threatening aura coming from it. That said, when the chest sprouted tentacle-like features and began to shuffle towards us, I did keep a tight grip on my rapier. Chester, as the Mimic was called, only really wanted to get out of the cave, a sentiment I could follow, and asked if we knew a way out. At the time we didn’t, so we agreed to clear a way out, and to come back for Chester.

A clear, crisp breeze gave us a faint hope, that we’d soon be out of the Goblin cave. It seemed that parts of this cave wasn’t claimed by Goblins, as swathes of unusually large rats. Not an uncommon sight for someone who’ve spent a good decade or so, in the more seedy alleys of towns, but the amount was rather concerning. We decided to avoid them, as we still had a Gnome to find and, potentially, free. Thankfully, we didn’t need to seek much further as we ventured back into the Goblin territory; up ahead, in a secluded alcove, guarded by a couple of Goblins and a Hobgoblin, a Gnome was tied to a board. He was looking malnourished, beaten, and generally weak, but I didn’t see any major wounds presents. So there was a chance that the Gnome was still alive. After dispatching the foes, with the Hobgoblin attempting, and failing, acrobatics, making himself an easy opponent.

The Gnome was in fact alive, we gave him some water and made sure that he was well enough to walk, though either me or Peach would have been able to lug him over a shoulder, if needed. We were finally heading out, earning the Gnome his freedom, Chester it’s (?) freedom, and, just as importantly, our own freedom. With the prison collars off, we would finally be able to move freely again. Free to move as far away from any Moon Elf as possible. Once collared is quite enough, I assure you. I wonder what adventures and riches the days ahead will bring.

Factions on magic

Magic is, through many fantasy realms and stories, quite an important factor. Sometimes its use is barely noticed, being so common that you kind of expect it. Sometimes, magic is shunned for whatever reason, and hardly ever witnessed. Either way you look at it, magic is divisive, and expanding upon this, can make magic appear more nuanced in your stories.

In this writing, I will put forth and generally describe some generic factions, that you can be inspired by, when writing your own world. In this I’ll also give examples of who could typically be a part of this faction. I will also make some pointers on how a society where each faction is a majority, can appear. Finally I will put the factions up in a larger “how does this faction work with that faction” analysis. Note that these are being written with a system like Dungeons and Dragons 5E in mind, but can easily be tweaked into other systems and formats.

Unless specifically mentioned, “magic” refers more commonly to “Arcane magic”. This is the type of magic that wizards, sorcerers, warlocks, and bards are capable of, and is often considered as more “raw”. The difference between this type of magic, and that of priests (for example), often called “Divine magic”, can also be seen as Arcane magic is more taught, like a skill, whereto Divine magic is gifted from nature or divine beings.


The Puritans

The Puritan Faction considers magic as a “dangerous skill”, and thus it should only be used by those with extensive training. For some Puritans, this even includes magic used by healers. The Puritans dislike open use of magic, unless it is necessary for the moment, arguing for the safety of the common folk and livestock. The Puritans do not mind magical academies, just as long these schools teach with responsibility. Naturally, any time there is a magical mishap, Puritans will be reinforced in their belief, and neutral folk might be more inclined to agree with their cause.

Puritans will regard magical items and artefacts, with the same level of distrust as magic users, preferring instead that these items be kept safe from falling into the wrong hands, and only used in utmost emergencies, by expert individuals, of course. These items should never be available to the public, and the knowledge of their very existence should not be handed out easily, if at all. It is important to note that Puritans aren’t opposed to the idea of magic, or to it’s use, they merely want it performed by people that can be trusted with it, and that trust takes time to build.

In societies with a strong Puritan presence, you might find that talk of magic is frowned upon. While typically not fully outlawed, it is preferred that magic is kept within well-sheltered academies. If a society, like a village, is not large enough to encompass such a facility, you’d find that the civilians will estrange you and distance themselves. Local law enforcement might inform you that it’s best, for your safety of course, to keep such things out of public ear-shot. You will usually always find some that lean towards Puritanism in any, even smaller, settlement. Unless they, as individuals or through a backing of their social peers, sit in a position of authority, they will typically not break other standard laws to change things. At most, they’ll only grumble in conversation about it.

In places with magical academies, Puritans are likely less grouchy about the talk of magic, seeing as there is a place for such talk, though they would prefer that you didn’t talk of magic use in the tavern or at the market square. The academies themselves would typically not hold many members, as few would have the patience to earn the seniority needed to be accepted by the broader society, and even then, most Puritans would rather not want to deal with magic users. Practices on the verge of magic, like alchemy and tinkering are also viewed with suspicion, though related areas like herbalism and engineering are generally accepted. It is likely that a Puritan society, over time will come to be more favorable of magic.

The Puritan view of magic stems from a general conservatism, and may be rooted in common superstition. As such, any one who aren’t likely to interact with people who use magic, can be a Puritan. But Puritanism can also stem from a point of experience, like a grand wizard having seen one too many apprentices blowing themselves up, due to mishandled spellcasting, thus arguing for caution with their younger peers.

Puritans are not seen as extremist by most, rather as cautious and perhaps ill-informed (by those more favorable towards magic), or as vague and cowardly (by those who oppose magic more vehemently), and can usually, albeit begrudgingly, be brought to a discussion about ongoing crises involving the use of magic.


The Fanatics

Fanatics take a hard stance on magic, and will not accept it in their societies. Not even if an individual is exceptionally trained and would benefit the society with their abilities. Magic is bad (for whatever reason), and if you’re trying to inquire into it, you’re most likely bad as well. Magic items should either be destroyed (preferably), or hidden so well away, that they are forgotten about entirely.

Coming across Fanatical groups can be dangerous, depending on how well they are lead. A well-lead Fanatic group might warn those around them, to avoid further tension, whereto a poorly lead group might just attack on sight, even without knowing if there’s magic involved or not.

It is, most likely, very rare for Fanatics to be a majority in almost any kind of society, regardless of its size. This is largely due to how intertwined magic and fantasy realms are with one another. But Fanatics can still hold a large presence in larger societies. In such cases, Fanatics are usually grouped up in smaller vigilante-like groups, striking out against areas or persons with connection to magic. In more mild cases, this is as simple as tagging a steading with graffiti, or breaking windows with rocks with threatening messages tied to them. However, if a Fanatic group is devoted enough or bold enough, they might even go as far as arson or assassination attempts, sending a clear message to the broader public, even if one of their own has to suffer jail-time or execution for their act.

Fanatic cells can exists down to the single individual, again, their activities depends on the boldness of these cells. Odds are that a very active Fanatic cell isn’t likely to last very long, as their extreme views tend to set them on edge with the rest of a regulated society. It is possible for a group of Fanatics to be exiled for their views, which could lead to them settling somewhere new, where they could flourish and establish their laws fitting their views.

An interesting thing about the Fanatics, is that they come in two main variants. The Generalist Fanatic wants all magic, regardless of it’s source or intention, gone, whereto the Religious Fanatics wants all magic, that isn’t related to their faith, gone. The latter option can even have sub-divisions too. Some, Religious Fanatical, groups might accept all kinds of faith-based magic, just as long as the faith is “good”, whereto others take the more divisive stand, that ALL magic, apart from that of their own faith, is bad.

Fanatics can come from any walk of life, and is usually caused by listening to sermons or teachings by another Fanatic member. These spoke-persons are typically well-known to the broader society, and, while most people keep a safe distance, travelers and merchants might not have this knowledge, thus being able to spread the message. Combine this political spark with someone already not fond of magic, and you might have created a Fanatic.

The Fanatic is an extremist when it comes to magic, and their volatile nature makes them hard to ally with, even for factions that seek to restrain or limit the use of magic. Even the Religious Fanatic will find that fellow acolytes and worshippers, who share their religion, are unlikely to want anything to do with the Fanatic.


The Feudalists

The Feudalist Faction is similar to the Puritans in many ways, but see magic more as a “tool of power”, and thus should only be used by those in power, i.e. the nobility and ruling classes. In the more extreme cases, magic should be reserved only for the, singular, ruler of the land, and anyone else practicing magic, is essentially looking to coup, and can thus be tried for treason and conspiracy.

A Feudalist is typically a part of this nobility themselves, seeking to benefit from this outlook, as magic can also be a source of income, especially when it comes to magical items. If a noble has little or no understanding of magic, they can, per the Feudalist views, sanction the people in their employ to hold and use this magic “for them”. A sanctioned spellcaster is similar to a court wizard in that regard, though they aren’t expected to teach their skills on to the employer. If a noble challenges another noble to a duel, sanctioned spellcasters could be forced to take that fight, instead of the noble. This, according to the Feudalists, is acceptable, as it is the noble that holds power.

Feudalists do not care for wizarding schools, unless these are funded by a noble family, for the sake of seeking employ with said family, once fully trained. In that sense, sanctioned spellcasters become a status symbol just as much as ornate artworks and expensive manors. The schools themselves also take any earning, from services or entry fees, to the founding family.

For a Feudalist noble to get his views through, other nobles or perhaps someone higher up, would have to share the Feudalist mindset. This makes it very hard for smaller Feudalist groups to persist, and in places where the Feudalists do hold power, it tends to be a rather oppressive rule, as the lust for power is corrupting, causing paranoia in the noble, fearing that the peasants and citizens will rise up, unseat them, and take their riches. A singular Feudalist might hold on to these values, but if the larger society doesn’t agree, the smart noble would just keep their head and opinions down.

These nobles would prefer the more regular mercenary (or hired bandits), over adventurers, who might just get the idea of taking the noble’s magical items for themselves. If wandering merchants come within the vicinity of the Feudalist noble, said merchant would likely be asked (or dragged) to a meeting with the noble, just so that no magical items or trinket should happen to fall into the hands of those deemed unworthy.

Feudalists might commonly agree amongst each other to the eye of the public, but personal grudges, old family feuds, or just plain, old jealousy, means that they’d often more than happily undercut each other, if not outright have each other killed, to attempt to acquire ever more wealth and power for themselves. It does not take much magic used poorly, to turn a regular noble, into a Lich.


The Libertarians

Libertarians care little about magic, neither for nor against it, and would consider outlawing it as more of a bureaucratic hassle, than a meaningful law for the society. In this light, Libertarians see no reason to want to limit the use of magic, or who can learn it. The individual is free to make their own choice on the matter, or not, if they never make their mind up.

While many Libertarians would probably argue, as a thing they technically should be for, that if you’re capable of burning your neighbour’s house down with a fireball, then it’s essentially up to you (or your neighbour taking the first move) to whether or not you’re actually going to do it, most Libertarians set the boundaries for their lax law system, at personal health and property. This is likely to avoid societies degrading into total anarchy and chaos. Though with that said, if a Libertarian has secured their home, values, and personal safety, they might be considerably more in favour of a more limitless Libertarianism, where you can do to others as you wish and vice versa.

As such, Libertarians tend to be of noble steading, not necessarily with use of magic themselves. You might also find thieves in favour of this idea, if everything’s allowed, then you can be sure that your items of value, might not be yours for very long. This is part of the reason why Libertarians are generally not a majority anywhere, though a single noble, residing over a smaller town, might follow through on Libertarian standards of living for the rest of their peers. Libertarianism often clashes with, in particular, Puritanism and Feudalism, who seeks more to control who can use magic. But it’s apathetic baseline does not appeal to the more pro-magic groups either.


The Cautious Magi

The Cautious Magi seek a broader acceptance of magic, and sees magic as a gift to everyone who wants it. Although that doesn’t inheritly sound very cautious, the Magi (as they are more commonly known) do attempt to only consider “less evil”, mainly from the School of Necromancy, spells as being actual gifts. The more notorious members of the Magi wishes to ban any use of Necromancy out right, as Necromancy is perhaps the easiest School of magic to point a finger at, To most members of the Cautious Magi, however, the debate is not that black and white, especially not when it comes to entire schools.

Rather, and perhaps more nuanced, the Magi wishes to hold discussions about the uses, and possible intent, of each spell. The Magi fully admits that magic, like any weapon, can be used for ill, as well as for good. One might hurl a spell of fire against a group of raiding marauders in order to save a settlement, just as one could hurl said fire against civilians. As such, the Magi are, for the most part, also willing to work alongside Necromancers, if it will benefit society in the longer run.

The Cautious Magi’s idea of avoiding Necromancers (or hedge wizards and the like) from sprouting, is by positively reinforcing the use of “non-evil” magic. The nuances and the intent behind a spell can be quite subtle, but the Magi sees them as very important when it comes to determine if a caster is considered as bad or not. This also means that, unless they are talking with one another or with someone of similar values and understanding of magic, they are unlikely to even mention spells that they, through lenghty discussions, have deemed as “bad”. The Magi thus go out of their way to hide, or destroy, anything that might lean into a specific spell, be it an artefact or a text. Under the tuteledge of arch wizards, apprentices will spend hours, days, and even weeks, going through books and scrolls, editing, catalogueing, and determining if this work should be destroyed, or just kept out of reach.

While the Magi does not wish anyone to know of the actual spell of Raise Dead, they would not destroy or edit a text, in which raising of the dead was mentioned, though they would wipe any mentions of specific ritual components, or phrases chanted during. The Magi, while focusing more on the “learned” magic, typically wizards, they do revere those with a natural inclanation towards use of magic. Obviously, they are less than keen, if this natural ability coms from a potentially shadowy contract with some semi-deity.

To the Magi, anyone who wants to learn more about magic, and learn how to use it, is more than welcome, regardless of the social caste, work, or race, though they will not force magic onto those that want no part of it. On this point they clash with Puritans the most, seeing as the Puritans want a more strict control on magic, though Puritans can, usually, appreciate that the Magi at least have the decency to not just consider all magic as good.


The Anthropoedians

Anthropoedic views are fairly rare in almost any societies, at least in any sizeable form. This is due to the almost revolutionary mindset that magic should belong to the people, not to the ruling class, or to a few well-read hermits in their closed-off towers. Now this view alone can work, if there is a peaceful agreement by the ruling classes and the established magic users. But as that is usually not the case, Anthropoedian views are often followed by a genuine want for revolution and revolt.

Given the Anthropoedians are looking to ultimately seize control over who’s using magic, they can’t really be seen as getting along with Feudalists or Magi, however, with the right amount of, potential, propaganda, the Fanatics could be pulled into action for the side of the Anthropoedians.

Naturally, most fantasy societies, kingdos, empires, or towns, are unlikely to just accept these demands straight away, but this can make the foundation for a story (or just a location), where magic is being used in an attempt to unseat the rulers, who, obviously, would likely use magic to fight back.

The Journal of Grimoire, chapter II

This is the journal of Grimoire, based on what Grimoire have seen or heard, including his thoughts on the matters at hand and the state of the world around him.


With Jess, Ignis, and Riniya all heading for the burning stable, upon hearing the sounds of distressed whinnying, the manor, engulfed in flames, were left to Melvin, Dande, and myself. Dande looked the body over; it was not the flames that had ended his life, but rather an elongated blade of some sorts. Clearing the body, Dande grapped into his jacket pocket for something, and headed towards the stable as well, I could not see the item from my point of view, but I’d suspect it to be an item that could mitigate the fire in some capacity. As such, if there was anything to be gleamed from the remains of the manor, it was up to me and Melvin. Now I knew that Melvin was just as, if not even more, proficient in opening closed doors, but it seemed fairly certain that the manor was lost, with all windows already burst from the heat, fire licking black, sodden tongues up the outer walls, the interior would be utterly destroyed. Books and furniture would have burnt, and with the heat being as intense as it was, I doubt many metallic containers would be much more than mostly melted remains. Heading in to search for survivors would be equal to suicide, unless the manor had a reinforced basement, the flames at this stage would have consumed almost everything.

Still though, in part because a locked door will always peak my curiosity, and in part because, there was a feint chance that someone might have made it to the front doors. If they could be saved and brought back to reason, they could very likely part with some important information. Things that might not be of great use here and now, but if I’ve learned anything over the past ten-fifteen years of solving cases in Onadbyr, then it’s that no piece of information should be discarded on the spot. And while I might not know, at the time of putting these words to journal, of to whom this information may be important, I feel I might know someone who could tell me more.

The brass door handle was sizzling and smoking, even from a distance, it was quite possibly scalding. Using a simple evocation, I covered the handles in a thin layer of ice crystals, this would temporarily cool the handle to avoid damaging my hands. Admitted, my heritage as a Teifling does give me an edge over most other creatures, but even we of so-called “devil’s blood” can acquire burn-wounds. Thankfully, though heavy, the door was not locked, and it opened easily, only to face a wall of writhing, red-hot flames, which then from the extra air now circulating, did bust out a heatwave into my face. Unpleasant for sure, but nothing a soothing bath later won’t fix.

Instead me and Melvin went around the manor, if there was any signs of a break in, or if the fire had started out here, we were most likely the best suited for such an investigation. I informed Melvin that with how the flames looked, combined with the non-burned corpse, that my suspicion pointed towards arson. Especially as every other building belonging to the estate, was in a similar state of burning to the ground. One building can be lost due to an accidental fire, sure, but multiple barns, stables, the staff house AND the manor all at once? No, there was nothing coincidental about this fire. An idea that was reinforced as we got around the manor; the backdoor that would open up out to the main garden, was blocked from access by a number of barrels. Judging by their size, food storage barrels, wine barrels usually have a different size and form. The fact that none of the barrels had spigots only strengthened this view. Clearly, the barrels had been put into place to block an exit route out of the manor.

I was about to head towards one of the other buildings, as we heard a feint knocking come from the barrels. Checking one of them revealed it to contain fish, salted for preservation, much to Melvin’s obvious delight. I had to remind him that we were looking for clues, I’ll need to teach him prober work ethics, if he is truly to escape the crimes of his past. We found the barrel that the knocks came from, and candidly I asked the barrel if “Everything was alright?”. Naturally, being in a barrel that’s made out of wood, next to manor that’s engulfed in flames, would not sit high on my personal list of “Things that are alright”, but this was the first line of words that sprung into my mind. The barrel in question was laying sideways, and wedged in between two standing barrels, we would not be able to pull the lid off of either end, until we’d moved the other barrels first. Thankfully it did seem like the fire wasn’t breaking through this side, so we would have some time to handle this. Melvin suggested we could just roll it out, but that would have sent it down a set of stone stairs into the garden, and I doubt whoever was inside would enjoy that experience. Unfortunately, the standing barrels proved much too heavy for Melvin or myself to move, I’ll admit, a burst of strength is not where I field my prowess. Instead we took out a crowbar each, and started prying the boards of the barrel apart.

An elderly lady, from her clothing, I’d say she was part of the kitchen staff at the manor, she had hidden herself in one of the barrels, as the Lord Romlyn and family had been assaulted and kidnapped. Clearly distraught, she mentioned a Lady Merrytail had been amongst the kidnappers, who had all adorned black robes with hoods. It seems our dear Lord Monder was correct in the rumours he had heard, as the old lady had heard them talk about a sacrifice at the Old Grinder, an old and abandoned mill about a mile away from the manor. The others had managed to rescue and secure Miss Ivory, so at least not all is lost. Melvin and I updated the others about our find, and with the chance that Lord Romlyn was still alive, we made a dash towards the mill.

When we arrived, we checked to see if there should be alternate routes inside (or out, for that matter), but only one way in was found. We had little time to plan anything, as this was a matter of life and death. My normal cases work more on an “after the crime” basis, rather than preventing crime, but that’s not to say that my cases haven’t sometimes turned into a stand-off with the suspect. Jess and Melvin tried to device a plan to throw Melvin up to a window, as a way to spot the inside out, but it would involve too much risk to Melvin given the height. Instead Jess broke the old, worn door down, rushing inside. We were all about to follow when the entrance was blocked by a large stone, that was rolled in front of the doorway, trapping us out here, and more importantly, Jess in there alone. Although Jess isn’t a frail character, being a Minotaur and all, even the most capable mage or warrior can’t deal with being outnumbered for too long. We had to get the stone out of the way, or at the very least, move it enough that we could enter to help Jess out.

While I wedged a crowbar in, Dande pushed the millstone just enough aside, that the others could either shoot through, or move through. We could hear sounds of combat coming from the inside, seems Jess was giving the opposition a fight for their life. Heard spells cast to the right of me, Dande had conjured something up inside, I was struggling to hold the stone in place as he cast his spell, but I managed to wedge my crowbar in, which seemed to do the trick. Finally getting inside, one cultist had already fallen, two more were still fighting, but Jess was looking pretty rough, despite her size and armour. As the two cultists saw they were outnumbered, they surrendered, only for Jess to knock them out. Dande and I headed up a ladder, while the others headed down. Two more were upstairs, one capable of simple spells, but working in unison, we quickly took them down, looking to join the others in the basement. We’ve heard Jess trying to persuade them into surrendering, and then something that sounded as an explosion.

Getting downstairs, a horrific sight met me; two noblemen had already been killed, their bodies laying in pools of their blood in a glowing magic circle, and a hooded figure was trying her best to avoid daggers and blows. A young boy was flung to the side, a grievous stab wound in the back of his head, informed me that he was in bad need of help. One of my potions would have to suffice, seeing as we had not hired a priest or a cleric to venture with us. I just hope that I’m not too late.

The Journal of Grimoire, chapter I

This is the journal of Grimoire, based on what Grimoire have seen or heard, including his thoughts on the matters at hand and the state of the world around him.


Raffolk Ginsi had gotten himself a serious problem. A 200 gold pieces or his life problem. The man is a gambler, and it appears that his debt have been accumulating over quite some time. The collector Gulfa, a brute of a Bugbear, made sure that the message was very clear. Personally, I think I would have handled the collecting of debt differently, an agreement that would have benefitted me over time, is more my style. Then again, I know a few of the types that venture the supposedly gilded halls of the Triple Nine gambling den, and not many of them would gladly accept a slow deal. They live fast, and apparently, they also die fast.

We walked together with Raffolk, after agreeing to help him. The colourful feather, according to our resident wildlife expert Riniya the Elf, was the feather of a Ko-attel (I do not know the spelling of this creature, nor am I aware of what this creature looks like, apart from it having feathers). I say was, as the fire that Gulfa caused utterly destroyed the beautiful feather and as such ruined Raffolk’s plans complete. These creatures are rarely seen, so their feathers are worth a small fortune to collectors. Indeed Lord Monder, the Crownwarden himself, was supposedly willing to pay upwards of 535 gold pieces for a single feather, more than twice the amount that Raffolk was needing to pay off his debt. Raffolk’s plan was simple; his grandmother had another of these feathers, heirlooms both of them, if only we provide the funding, to pay her, then we were promised the excess from the sale; by a quick estimate, upwards of 135 gold pieces. I’d like to consider myself a generous soul, within reason, so myself and Dande, a landlocked Haregon sailor with some grasp of magic, agreed to part with 100 gold pieces each. On top of Raffolk’s 50, this would suffice to appease his grandmother. I’d much rather that we had walked alongside Raffolk, to the Triple Nine and Gulfa, and paid directly, rather than letting a, potentially, priced heirloom go to waste, this would also have saved 50 gold pieces down the line. The feather of the grandmother looked a little different in colouration, but about the same size and glamour.

Raffolk said that Lord Monder would return with the money for the purchase, and suggested that we’d walk to his estate together. The Halfling appeared in greater spirits now, I reckon having a death threat removed can be rather uplifting, though I am in no rush to attempt such a feeling myself. En route to the Lord’s villa, we discussed the possibilities for Raffolk to avoid gambling in the future, he claimed to be of little skill in terms of practical jobs, but Dande suggested that he’d get in touch with some colleagues down at the harbour. From what little I know of seafaring, ship’s crews tend to be tightly knit, and most captains frown upon sailors gambling, even while docked. Any larger ship could always use an extra pair of hands, and while it can be mildly dangerous out at sea, it’s a job that builds character. Raffolk seemed not entirely displeased with the idea, though I don’t believe it exactly thrilled him either. Instead he seemed to want to steer the conversation towards the upcoming Day of the Crown festivities, namely the tournament.

I personally find bouts and tests of strength for the sake of public amusement to be rather barbaric, even if they are rooted in history. I’ll admit that I do find the cheaper food and drink to be quite a welcome gesture, but with all the rabble in the streets, it is difficult to find a nice and quiet place to settle down with a good book, or to finish up some case notes. People are significantly easier to interrogate though, albeit, too many drinks makes questioning a difficult task. And many a lowlife sees opportunity in the large gatherings, easy pickpockets and even break-ins, do tend to give a few extra cases in the coming weeks after.

The others in the group, to my utmost admiration, did not seem too approving of the tournament either. Dande pointed out that it was a bad habit of Raffolk’s, besides, the last couple of years, the king had won it himself. Among some of the more dubious gamblers, there have been talk that the tournament is actually fixed. It would be on the verge of impossibilities to actually prove, and I have not yet received an offer to take such a case. At least not one, that would truly pay for my time and trouble that is. Raffolk seemed to understand the notion, and instead started talking about the parade of the Day of the Crown, but just as any of us were about to say our piece on the matter, he bolted off down one of the side-streets. Melvin, Ignis, and Riniya all took after. Raffolk seemed mighty speedy for one of his Halfling stature, and other than the Elf, they didn’t look like they’d be able to catch him. As for myself and Dande, I suggested we’d take another route, as to encircle him and acquire an explanation for his sudden running away. This would not be the first time I’ve had to chase down a witness, or even a suspect. I prefer to use my brains over brawn of legs everyday, and I know quite a few of these narrow alleys. Or at least where they will eventually lead.

As expected, Raffolk came out of a side-alley to one of the larger roads, likely hoping to disappear within the crowds of everyday traffic. But then the odd thing happened, with his back to me and Dande, he changed his shape and appearance to that of a regular Human, slowing down as if he figured no-one had noticed. This is what perpetrators often do; they get too cocky and careless. And rather than outrun me, they’d have to outsmart me. Besides, I have others that are plenty capable in the running department. We apprehended him to ask, though tiny alarm bells were already in motion in my mind. I suppose my intuition should have been clearer, when he refused the direct (and cheaper) payment of his debt, but it now became very obvious that we had been conned. Upon closer examination of the grandmother’s feather which Dande had held onto, it became clear to me, that it was not of the same pattern or quality of the first feather, instead this was the feather of a large parrot, which of course wasn’t rare at all in comparison.

We handed the illusionist over to the guards, though he claimed ignorance. Thankfully, and perhaps much to the chagrin of Raffolk (if that truly was his name), the guards and I have a long history, as I have aided them on several occasions in cases regarding magic. Although I could not outright prove the perpetrator’s guilt, I could at the very least ensure that one thief would be locked away; enough witnesses at the Lucky Leap would be able to back our explanation for a possible conviction. As the Lord Monder was one of those witnesses, the guard wanted us all to follow them to the Lord’s villa in the High District. Upon arriving at the villa, we were greeted by a servant, before the Lord himself bid us enter. Only our Minotaur seemed unfazed by this wealthy abode, while Melvin seemed even more nervous than normal. Reasonable enough, given Melvin’s background.

As I had feared, the Lord Monder had not in fact been visiting the Lucky Leap that day, and he had not been looking to acquire such a feather. Clearly, at least to me, this whole ordeal was a large setup. Lord Monder suggested it to be the work of the Golden Masks, a band of thieves known for using illusions and disguises in their crimes, and apologized for the loss of our coin. I personally could have cared less about the amount, and while I’m certainly not vindictive, I do not like to be schemed or conned.

Perhaps seeing us all as a cohesive unit, Lord Monder then asked if we could perform a small task for him, he did recognize my name, though I don’t believe he knew the others. The task sounded simple; acquire the Lord Monder’s horse (named Miss Ivory) from the villa of Lord Romlyn just south-east of the city gates, it shouldn’t take much more than an hour by foot. I knew at once that something was amiss; this task was much too easy for a band of six adventurers to partake, there was a hidden agenda beneath. Not one for secrecy, especially not when it comes to my work, I pressed him for the truth of the matter. He caved, and admitted that there were rumours of dark rituals, foul magic, and other types of witchcraft being used out near the Royal Stud Farm, so if we were to “come across” any of that, we were to root it out, if possible.

I’m always happy to improve my standing with the guard, and the Red Cloaks too, but I’d understand if the rest of the party was less than enthused about partaking this job. Fortunately, there were but a few complaints and questions, and we would be able to depart for the villa, as soon as the Minotaur reacquired her gear. Heading down the road, an eerie sight greeted us in the horizon; plumes of black smoke rising from where the villa would be. As we closed in, the entire place, every single building, was set ablaze. We hastened towards the front entry, where the corpse of some poor fellow was laying in a pool of blood. His death was certainly not caused by the fire. Some of the others heard the panicked sound of a horse, and rushed towards the barn to aid the creature. We were all left with the same questions; who could have done this, and, perhaps more important, why?

The Quest for The Holy Grail, take two – A D&D Adventure in Monty Python’s Arthurian setting

After the defeat to the French at Castle Aargh, an exhausted King Arthur Pendragon returned to Camelot with the few remaining men, but with the plague still at large, the French soldiers lurking and many a strange monster roaming sbout, Arthur had no choice but to let most of the Knights of the Round Table go. Arthur’s hope was that the Knights would at least go and fight evil in the name of the Britons and the Round Table, but Camelot’s treasure was not able to support yet another full-blown campaign. As it turns out, having not been at his seat of power, and allowed the Knights at Camelot to turn it into such a silly place, meant that the coffers were all but empty.


But Arthur was never one to admit defeat; just think of what historians some thousand years later would think? Gone were some of his best men, Sir Galahad presumed to be dead at the bridge in scene 24, Sir Bedevere were captured by strange folk at Castle Aargh, Tim the Enchanter had also returned to the Badlands, and Sir Lancelot’s whereabouts were currently unknown. Sir Robin was also gone, but that thought didn’t really cross Arthur’s mind. There were bigger problems in his rather undefined kingdom. Now scout reports told of a strange appearance, apparently coming in from the sea, the highly invasive Swedish Møøse had already made a few simple settlements along the coast. Further north, the savage tribes had been more bold in their raids on the villages, possibly spurred on by a change in leadership. Arthur was in need of two things, well, three, if you count the Grail, but those two things were men, to storm the Castle Aargh if needed, and money to pay said men.

Arthur’s problem was obvious; no men meant that no-one was out collecting bounties to fill his coffers, and without money, he could not supply men to go out and hunt for these bounties. But then, when Arthur was at his lowest, having had yet another fairly one-sided conversation with God about the aspects of a good groveling, an angel appeared before Arthur. Arthur was quite dumbfounded by this, as the angel wasn’t wearing any clothes. The angel spoke to Arthur, who was staring rather intently, as it was turning colder outside (Arthur did not have the money to renew his rockwool membership). “Arthur, King of the Britons, I am Saint Victor, God senteth me to aid thee, so that thou would stop thine moaning of his name in vain. I am contractually obligated to inform thee that,” in that moment, the clouds parted and God, fairly cross after dealing with several flocks of coconut-carrying African Swallows, said, “GET ON WITH IT!”

Saint Victor then informed Arthur of a stone circle some days east of Camelot, here would he find, if his faith was strong enough, a band of strange travellers who would be willing to help his cause, without promise of pay, but Arthur might had to assure them healthcare, after all, it was no-longer the 800’s anymore. Arthur’s mood brightened to a smile, and hastily he strode towards the stable where Patsy the 2nd were sleeping; this was his chance of reassembling the Knights of the Round Temple, get revenge on the French for their insults and, FINALLY, obtain the Holy Grail.

Best D&D moments, part 1

Dungeons & Dragons can be the source for many great laughs, here’s a collection of my best ones. I hope that you will share your best/funniest D&D moments with me. Warning: Explicit content.


“I think I know what it is, I have it right on my tongue, let me taste to be sure…” One of the players, after a failed nature check, picking up a pile of bat-poop.

The players (all level 3) was searching through a burned-down inn, when a single Ogre discovered their less than stealthy scavenging. Combat ensures, one player gets hit with a javelin for 15 damage, but as the players mostly stay at range, they defeat the Ogre pretty easily.
DM: The Ogre gurgles and falls over on it’s back, dead as a stone.
Player: I go closer to it.
DM (thinking player wishes to loot): The Ogre doesn’t appear to have anything other than it’s javelins and it’s loincloth.
Player: What gender is the Ogre?
DM: Uhh… (thinking) It is male… Why do you ask?
Player: What would I need to roll in order to place an incense-stick into it’s urethra and light it?
DM, slightly disturbed: Uhh… I mean… The Ogre is dead, it’s not like it would require a roll to do that… but… Do you REALLY want to do that?
Player, already describing the scene in detail: Yep!

The party is trying to break into the manor of a certain L. GaGa, in order to steal a priced dagger. Knocking out the guards, and dressing up as them, the party entered the kitchen, under the guise of inspecting for poisons (party Cleric is a Dwarf, Dwarves are resistant to poison damage). Entering the pantry, the party rolls perception check to see if they can find anything of interest.
Cleric: I rolled a natural 1.
DM: You spot a massive wheel of cheese, a keg of ale and a long string of smoked sausages.
Cleric: Screw the dagger, this is the REAL treasure!
Later, the party enters a seemingly empty room, another perception check.
Cleric: I rolled a natural 20.
DM: You see all the traps and a chest that is licking it’s tongue, preparing for a meal.
Cleric: MY SIGHT IS POWERED BY SAUSAGEEEEEEEEEEEEES!

A low-level party is trying to avoid alerting all he goblins within a stronghold. The Tiefling Warlock reads through the description of the spell Thaumaturgy (which is a cantrip that Tieflings get at level 1).
Warlock: “So… It says I can slam opened doors shut, as well as open an unlocked door instantaneously…”
The Warlock then proceeds to slam the door, till a single Goblin notices the commotion. Once the Goblin gets outside the door, the Warlock shuts the door behind it, and the party, all holding actions, goes in for the mauling of this Goblin. This pattern continues about 3-4 more times, until only unarmed Goblins are present within the room.