Saturday, 24 September 2016

The Last Tower - Mini Adventure

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


The Last Tower – Rising still, each brick heavily engraved with warding sigils, the spirits of longevity bound within so very tired. From anywhere nearby the top of the tower glints, being made entirely of glass, containing something which seems to call, call, call.
All floors of the tower show signs of very small cuts, everywhere. This is from the golem on floor five.
1. The first floor contains mess and rot. Many have used the base of the Last Tower as their camp, and something is always left behind. A stone trapdoor leads to the basement of the Last Tower, which is flooded, and filled with slime-encrusted black leeches, swirling about in their foulsome pool. Eliminating them would allow you to search the basement to no great effect, bar the corroded metal of prior unfortunates.  There is an illusion here, which shows a well-stocked larder, a trap designed to eliminate casual thieves and determined adventurers alike. A set of stone steps curl up to the second floor. A slender silver gate once blocked the way, but it has been successively torn to shreds by passing mercenaries.

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

3. The third floor is nearly bare, featuring only a glyph set in gold into the floor. Reading the glyph, it is simply a depiction of the creed of the college –
"A light amidst the dark"
The gold is animated to regrow when in this room, and chipping out all of it is laborious and not worth the time taken. 500sp for several days work.

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

5. The fifth floor contains a golem, constructed to resemble an octopus, each tentacle made up of razorblades. If the women are undisturbed, it rests, hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently, whistling as the blades slice the air. If they are distributed, it will savagely kill everyone in the tower before weaving a new sarcophagus, gently caressing the dead women with its razor blades. It cannot leave the tower unless the women do.
HD 8 AC 18 +4 1D8 RAZOR SLASHES 1D10+1 MORALE 12

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

7. The seventh floor is filled with star charts, and set about with 4 great lenses, cunningly hidden to stop them being visible from outside. Each one is pointed at a constellation of note:-
The first lens is directed at a constellation which confers luck upon the first viewer, granting them advantage on one roll of their choice. It must be spent within 6 days. The second viewer has poor luck, as the constellation siphons their luck to the original viewer. The GM may force them to roll again and take the lower result at any point for the next 6 days.
The second lens is directed at a constellation which looks really nice.
The third lens is directed at a constellation which renders the first viewer idiotic (2 INT), the second blind and the third deaf. The vampiric constellation feeds on such things.
The fourth lens is directed at no constellation, revealing only inky blackness.
There are no stairs to the eight floor.

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

Wednesday, 7 September 2016

The Library

I'm seeing a Library, dour and grey. Not that you can see it from the outside - it floats in the sea of chaos, a bubble of quiet and storage.

The first room, a reception. A ten foot bird-headed figure, silently observing your coming. The head changes species with each visit. Killing it does nothing - it shall return.

Beyond this, things are in flux.

The Atlas of Dead Gods - a black void wherein float the embryonic corpses of gods forgotten. Each has a blank bronze plaque the size of cities attached. If they are named, they are gone, cataloged elsewhere.

Book Finders Office - A wizened old figure atop his floating desk, the Ink Dogs chained to it. Any stolen book will be recovered by this team. One Ink Dog can blank the pages of a book to stop the knowledge escaping. The other barks out one line, forcing the carrier of the book to find the next line and respond.

NarcoScholars Den - The NarcoScholars bend and warp psychedelically. Some are less psychotic than others. They gladly exchange your induced visions for ever more novel narcotics. Just stay a little longer.

Gorestained Pit - The Haruspexes collect life to gut and discern information from. Every living thing is another book, aching to be read. Everything has entrails if you are willing to stretch the definition.

Stitchers Workroom - The Figment Finders stitch stitch stitch tiny fragments, single words in pages, pages into chapters and chapters into books. To the other librarians, they are dull restorers. They know they endlessly weave new works to infiltrate the Library.

Grammar Fiends

(d4 actions is a sentence, judged from beginning of combat. They can be cut short.)
Comma Imp - Can pause two attacks per sentence, allowing the target to take action first.
Period Devil - Negate an action, undoing it's effect. Ends the sentence.
Exclamation Devil - Double a numerical effect.  Ends the sentence.
Noun Fiend - Whatever the noun is their form, inky and sketchy, made of tiny words floating free. Can change once per sentence.
Subject Succubus - Can change the target of a spell or action (where logically possible) a number of times equal to the number of combatants.

Intellectual Contagion.

It was locked away for a good reason.
HD - Highest INT in party.
Damage - Lowest INT in party.

A smokey black cloud of thought, untouchable by action, only hurt by argument. Characters argue against the concept, the GM decides the strength.

1d4 - weak argument.
1d6 - average argument.
1d8 - good argument.
1d10-great argument.
2d6 - crushing argument.

category of contagion
1. political
2. religious
3. social
4. cultural
5. artistic
6. economic.

(For fun/fist fights, make it a view held by a player or the GM)

Monday, 22 August 2016

DOGS OF THE WASTES - Raiders and such




Every army that ever was or could be finds themselves in the legions of the White Suns. Pristine and regimented despite disparate uniforms they are an endless chrome tide swallowing landscape and settlements alike. Behind them the slaves march, hoping to be elevated to the ranks. 


Bound in leather atop machines designed to kill you and them alike. Nothing is real, they will show you. As both your corpses are cooked in the ruin of their deathride machines those who are left will drag you out, unzip their masks and eat you. Some will take the twisted metal and make their machines more deadly to rider and prey. Let them show you how to die.


Each machine is festooned with spikes, and each spike festooned with people. The people are hooked up to machines which pump they full of drugs. The people are all screaming. First victims, now a member of the choir, barely audible above the instrument engines. The riders are dressed in rotting meat, what remains of choir boys and girls without vocal chords to sing for them any longer.


A swarm of heavy industrial machines, smashing into one another and leaving the crippled beasts by the wayside. Each machine is loved by it's master and hated by it's peers, and the Reavers will do anything to prove their machine is the best. Slow, easily distracted but nothing will be left once they finally find your settlement.

Sunday, 7 August 2016

The Dead of the Depths, Primal Necromancers

Buried deeper than memory, crushed beneath the weight of years and the endless blackness, empires of deaths forgotten. Amidst the ancient stone, corpses twitch. In blackened vaults, necromancies from ages consumed are practiced by minds incomprehensible to any who know death or the sun. They never lived, born dead in a cold stone womb. The legions of these things are unending, unspeakable. The time-forgotten dead swell their ranks, gathering in the pit of the world, material for the black acts of deathless minds. The have not torn the sun down and destroyed the living yet, because they are ignorant of them. They do not know of a surface realm, knowing only their blackness and stone. The Primal Necromancers are filled with hate for one another, and battle without breath in their caverns.

If they were to unite, and to learn of sunlight realms, all hope would be extinguished.

Generating A Primal Necromancer

The Form
An ancient dead reptile, bedecked in robes of scales, stolen from its kin.
A worm of bones, undulating and clacking, covered in jawbones all speaking tongues.
Many metallic legs sprout from ancient paper, covered in forbidden knowledge.
The remains of a queen atop her throne. She does not move.
An emaciated human figure, eternally disintegrating, the motes drifting upwards.
A corroded metal disc, slightly curved. It could be worn as a mask.
From the front, an angelic being of beauty and grace. From behind, the glamour fades – a child-corpse, rotten.
A pool of mercury, shifting and dancing.
A word. Where-ever it is carved, written or marked, it has power.
The shadows cast from an iron lamp, crude and worn.

The Realm
A chemical sea, unseen and unknown, seething and fuming beneath stone ceiling.
A fortress suspended on bone-chains above an endless chasm.
A Wound in the earth, its hot thick blood running free.
A warren of impossible tombs and crypts, carved by the dead themselves.
A metal spike, hollow, plunging ever downwards into the stone.
A cavern lit by a sickly false-sun, radioactive, mutants and cancers growing amidst the dead.
A necropolis built betwixt the ribcage of a Forgotten Beast, unknown even to the Primal Necromancers.
A hollowed out comet, filled with the crushed remnants of a surface civilisation.
A great Stone-Worm, killed and reanimated, burrowing still in its deathless state.
This Primal Necromancer has no realm, travelling alone or with a horde of terrible creations.
In timeless aeons, the Primal Necromancers have developed their own magics besides their peerless mastery of unknown necromancy.

The School
School of Flame: The Primal Hunger, Destruction, Heat, Light
School of Stone: Entombment, Solidity, The Crushing
School of Darkness: Concealment, Omnipresence, Obfuscation
School of Chaos: Entropy, Decay, Growth, Flow
School of Rendings: Summoning, Transport, Corruption, Sundering
School of Sight: Divination, Knowledge, Blindness, Piercing
School of Stasis: Endlessness, Delay, Preservation, Determination
School of Beguilement: The Taking of Slaves, The Will, The Mind, Removal of Thoughts

Wednesday, 3 August 2016

Hexcrawling in Southern Otica

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

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

Scorching Heat
Heavy Storms

River Encounters
1d4 Crocodile
1d2 Couatl
Natives on rafts
Drowned Jealous Dead (see below)
Frog Swarm
Roll on Jungle Encounter

Jungle Encounters
Arboreal Vampire, displaced.
1d2 werejaguars
Dismounted elf patrol
Podsnakes (see below)
World Tortoise (see below)
Stirge Flock
Vicious Monkey group
Hunting Wyvern
Su Monster
Open Ground Encounters
Basking Lizards (see below)
Hunting Wyvern
Podsnakes (see below)
Word Tortoise (see below)
Running Lizards (see below) – 50% chance ridden by natives with lances.
Sprinting Spider – as a giant spider but REALLY fast
Dead Knights (see below)
Monsters new to Otica

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

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

They bundle into d8 groups of 5, which attempt to drop onto people and crush them to death.
per snake: HD 1 AC AS LEATHER MORALE 10

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

Basking Lizard
3d10 appearing. HD 3 - AC AS CHAIN - BITE +3 1D10+3/CLAW +2 1D8 +3 - MORALE 8
They only have the energy to attack when it's sunny.

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


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

2613 Jungle
A blood crazed elf is rampaging, killing everything in the area. She touched the bloodstone in 2413. HD3/BITE 1D4/AC AS CHAIN/M12

2413 Open Ground
The stubby ruin of a wizard tower in blue bricks. It's hard to see without almost walking into it. The ground floor is empty. The first basement is trashed, filled with animal corpses. 30% chance of a pack of wild dogs brutally fighting to the death. The second basement level contained a large, red stone, set into an altar. It stinks of cooked meat. Touching the stone causes a save vs magic. If failed, the character enters into a blood frenzy for 3d4 days. The stone is worth up to 8000sp.

2213 Open Ground
A dead giant, now a hill. Spilling blood atop the hill awakens the giant. When standing, it is the size of a cathedral. HD 30. The tortoises know. Surrounding the central hill are 8 smaller hills, which are the brood of the eldest. HD 10, smash for 2d12 if not avoided.

2314 Open Ground
Six dead elves, trampled to death by their missing horses (hiding in 2215). The horses were driven mad by the Treefisher Spirit. 2HD, AC AS LEATHER, Invisible, and hides in a tree. Attacks through poison darts. Today he carries (1d6) 1. Strength Sapping 2. Madness 3. Anti-coagulant 4. Lust 5.Sleep 6. Death. All effects can be saved against.

2215 Open Ground, Riverside
Six confused, scared horses w/ 3 weeks rations between them. 50% glad to see people, otherwise they bolt.
Ruined riverhouse, containing the Eternal Witch. She reanimates if disturbed - the spirit is bound to her shawl. She demands a new body, which she possess when someone dons the shawl. She will cast summon until she gets her way. Destroying the shawl will banish her, or attacking the spirit with magic. (int 18 wis 14 cha 12). Inside the shawl are the spells summon, phantasmal psychedelia. Outside the riverhouse is her hateful tortoise familiar, who wants the witch destroyed so he can leave and seek a new master. He will help any who can kill her, and he will give the location of the spellbook he has hidden from the witch.

2015 Open Ground, Riverside
Skulljar village (see BROKEN SYSTEM 000). Contains a Pyromancy Crown - once a week, this crown can cause (2xlevel)d6 damage worth of flames to explode out from the wearer. They are dealt the lowest 3 damage dice rolled. Worth 6000sp.

1914 Open Ground
A giant reptilian creature which wanders around on it's stilt-legs, served by a nomadic native group. HD 10 - AC 12 - KICK -4 FOR 2D10+5

1815 Jungle, Riverside
A ruined, flooded riverside keep. The armoury is somewhat decayed, but still had a suit of plate, 3 suits of chain and 5 heavy crossbows with 10 bolts each. It is currently inhabited by 80 eel-men, who are a jovial, happy folk. They swam up from the underground sea, but the tunnel collapsed, stranding them above ground. They are guarded by 20 Coral Knights, who are also the leaders of the group. 3HD/AC AS PLATE/HARPOON +3 1D8+3. The armour of a coral knight is weightless in water.

2316 Open Ground
Desmodesmus, Chained Demon of Plague. The chains are enchanted, and any demon clasped by them is utterly bound to the will of the holder, and must protect them beyond death. The problem is the holder is dead, and has been for a hundred years, and Desmodesmus is terrible bored. He wants most of all to be free, but a new master is preferable to this. He will inform the characters he is still bound to protect the holder of the chain to the best of his ability. There is a useless spellbook which Desmodesmus will use to bargain with. HD 8 / AC AS CHAIN (IMMUNE TO 3 MISSILES PER ROUND) / SLAM 1D10+4+ DISEASE (1 week to fester, then -2 to con each day. Save every day, 3 saves in a row means cured). The chains are worth 5000sp.

1811 Jungle
Barrowmounds of Endilack, a foreign king. 

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

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

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

Monday, 1 August 2016

Flesh Hive Servitor Swarm

I mean, I can't remember how most games use swarms, this is just my default Swarm Rules plus some body horror stuff.

The gnawing sounds intensifies as you kick the door down, raising tomb-dust. Flickering torchlight reveals a glistening surface. You approach, the noise fills you. You feel a horrible recognition in the pulse of the sound. The Flesh-Hive is visible now, a tumour clinging to the wall, seemingly trying to tear itself apart. The noise stops. The Hive stops. One step closer. The noise crashes back and the Hive disgorges its brood. You are torn apart in seconds, recycled to grow the Hive. Some echo of your memory is forever enshrined in the mass.

The larger the Hive, the higher the HD. The Hive itself is immobile and has no defences, bar it's brood. It has HD of Brood equal to twice it's HD, and can choose to seperate these into many smaller swarms if needed. They are controlled by the Hive through pheromone instructions - outside a radius (HD X 100 ft) the Swarm loses cohesion. The Hive has brood scattered throughout an area equal to HD x 50 ft, and is aware of everything that happens in this area.

HD - Variable
AC - As Leather +1 - it is hard to hit a swarm.
Attack - If you are engulfed in the swarm (swarm can engulf HD/4 rounded up, min of 1) you take (HD)d4 damage as they tear and rip - this damage pool is distributed between all people engulfed as the Hive wishes. The Hive will grow by the number of HD lost this way.

Wednesday, 27 July 2016

Crested Mercenaries, Dogs of War

They wear their taint with pride, hiding not their fur nor horns nor feathers. They are known best for their mercenary wanderings, serving well among any company - given a monetary incentive. They enjoy all the vices of men, especially on campaign, and are generally found to be hospitable to those willing stay in their midst. Though obviously abominations, Inquisitors cannot help but note how much like good folk they are.

Crested Soldiers fight as first level fighters, equipped appropriate to their role in battle. They have morale 11 unless noted otherwise.

The warband is led by...
Red Alexander - A Feathered One not taking after a bird of prey, Red Alexander was forced to earn his moniker and the respect of his men in several bloody campaigns against rival warbands. This done, he has flourished and is noted for his well-planned and executed strategies. His last employment was for the House of Ulster, driving out the Witch-men from the forests. The head of the Witch-men chieftain still screams from the warbands standard.

Red Alexander - 4th Level Fighter, 30HP, Chain, Longsword.

Chieftain’s Head - Once per day, this head can scream a curse, causing an effect similar to Fear as cast by a fifth level MU. Worth 4000sp.

Fifty Swordsmen-in-Chain, Thirty Crossbowmen, Ten Mounted Skirmisher-Scouts.
7000sp per month.
Dmitri of the Seven - Dmitri bears the horns common to the Hounds, although eight horns is far above the normal two, marking one out for great success. One of these horns was destroyed fighting Western barbarians. Dmitri is accompanied at all times by his Shaman-Chronicler, Blesitus, who is learned in the traditional religion of the Crested Soldiers. He also knows when to lie, whispering to Dmitri of the Seven Horned Hound Prophecy. Dmitri’s band has not had employment for some time, emerging from the Brokejaw mountains after a significant absence. Dmitri is donned in archaic armour, previously unseen, and the warband is diminished.

Dmitri of the Seven - 7th Level Fighter, 50HP, Regal Gambit, Greatsword.

Blesitus, Shaman-Chronicler, 4th Level MU, 16HP, Leather, Knife. Has access to all level appropriate spells.

Regal Gambit - This armour appears as intricate plate, but is infact entirely glamour, offering no protection. To be able to strike the wearer, the attacker must save vs magic or else throw down arms. Worth 7000sp

Twenty-Seven Swordsmen-in-Chain, Ten Archers, Seven Spearmen-in-Chain. 4000sp per month until they recoup losses.
Gallows Darren - Darren is a small, quiet Hound, bearing no horns nor a muscular stature. The loyalty and precision of his forces betrays what must be a truly horrific training regimen, the men utterly broken to his commands. They are often used on special tasks requiring small numbers and discretion, something the unit is perfectly capable of. Darren is never seen fighting, nor commanding his troops directly - they simply step to on their own initiative. They were last spotted touring battlefields where their brothers had fallen.

Gallows Darren - 5th Level Magic User, 22HP, Leather, Blankrod. Has access to all appropriate spells.

Blankrod - This polished ivory rod is about half-covered in tiny carvings, which seem to shift. Close examination reveals them to be entire levels, recorded in miniscule script. Each life recorded here corresponds to one of the fleshy automatons in Darren’s band. Breaking the rod releases them, killing Darren does not. Worth 10000sp.

One hundred Swordsmen-in-Chain, Thirty Archers, Twenty Spearmen-in-Chain, Twenty Armoured Horsemen. 10000sp per month.
Julian - Julian is a haughty Feathered One, clearly hawk-headed. He is justifiably proud of the achievements the warband has accrued under his leadership, although some mutter his officers are more than a little unacknowledged for their parts. The top three officers are planning to have Julian tragically, accidentally killed during their next assignment as revenge for this glory-hounding. They most recently pulled off a fantastic ambush against a unit of knights errant.

Julian - 2nd Level Fighter, 16HP, Chain, Halberd.

Seventy Swordsmen-in-Chain, Twenty Archers, Twenty Spearmen-in-Leather, Twelve Skirmishing Cavalry, Ten Armoured Horsemen. 9000sp per month
Snarl - Although her name elicits sniggers, it cannot be denied that she is an elite within an elite. No ordinary Hound, she bears the head of a wolf proudly. Perhaps one of the most expensive bands, she has yet to fail her assigned task. Her troops are nearly fanatically dedicated, and she only accepts Horned Hounds in her number, something which has soured relations with other Crested Warbands. Her warband is currently engaged in assisting the free city of Larbuck against the Empire.

Snarl, 8th Level Fighter, 62HP, Plate, Variety of Weapons, Slaughter Ring.

Slaughter Ring - Snarl bears the Slaughter Ring, although none know of it, including her - she believes it to be merely a marriage band from her runaway spouse. The ring grants immunity to mind-altering effects during combat, and grants the wielder 18 strength when a weapon is in their hands. However, they are unable to find meaning or joy in anything but the slaughter of combat, and will take their own lives in they cannot find it. Worth 6000sp.

Forty Knights, variety of weapons. Often fight on foot. 8000sp per month.
Harold the Bastard - Once an adventurer, a merchant and prince, Harold has returned to what he does best - paid killing. Utterly unscrupulous and incredibly knowledgable. His mongrel head is at odds with his gentlemanly speech and taste.Thanks to his many adventures, he knows an expert in almost any given matter he cannot claim experience in himself, leading to strings of very specialist jobs. His small group have all been through the crucible together, and fight as second level fighters.

Harold the Bastard - 9th Level Specialist, Leather, Rapier and Sling.

Thirty Mixed Infantry, Variety of Arms and Armour, Twenty Crossbowmen, Two Mounted Skirmishers, 5000sp per month.
Yellow Edgar - A crow that makes his own corpses, Edgar’s forces are known for leaving no prisoners, ruthlessly slaying those who fall. He frequently chafes with his employers over scavenger’s rights.The yellow moniker stems from the hideous livery he and his troops began their careers in, though many now bear the arms and armour associated with Imperial Knights. Most recently, they have been seen transporting a huge amount of scavenged material towards a mercantile capital, spoils from the latest employment.

Yellow Edgar - 6th Level Specialist, Leather, Longsword, Longbow.

One Hundred Mixed Soldiers, can be configured to fight in any manner as needed. 8000sp + scavengers rights per month.
Anthony the Learned - A known dabbler in magical arts, many do not trust him nor his men, whispering of dark pacts made with darker spirits. It is widely known his feathers are burnt, and appears old beyond his years. He jumps at the chance to fight sorcerous foes, if given access to arcane loot recovered. His soldiers are often replaced, and their morale is low. Heavy drinking is common. They whisper of the terrible things Anthony has done, and has bargained with. They were spotted most recently emerging from an ancient barrow-complex, laden with grave-goods better left buried, no doubt.

Anthony the Learned - 8th Level Magic User, Leather, Four Bound 6HD Demons (as Summon), all spells appropriate to his level.

Forty Swordsmen-in-Chain, Twenty Priests-of-the-Steppe, Twenty Light Horsemen, 6000sp per month. Morale 8.