Spes Magna Games

The faithful of Renceth* have long shuddered at tales of the arch-heretic Galen Polegoas, who had been a well-respected and holy cleric instrumental in several saintly actions against the forces of chaos. Galen’s had a well-deserved reputation for erudition, generosity, and piety. Unknown to most, however, was the fact that gnawing doubts troubled Galen. Galen’s faith in Renceth’s providence was weakening, especially in light of myriad little sufferings people sought his advice about.

In face of so much disappointment, Galen could no longer accept the doctrines that explain how Renceth provides the faithful with what they need, but that the faithful must be alert and discerning enough to recognize these provisions. Instead of proper orthodoxy, Galen perceived Renceth’s conditional providence as being akin to the Tronsosian** commandment to take what they need.

And so Galen consolidated his power base and from the safety of his fortress-cathedral began to preach that Renceth and Tronsos were one and the same. Galen taught that it was true that Renceth provided his faithful with opportunities for success and happiness, and that often those opportunities belonged to other people and were kept behind locked doors. Is not Renceth the God of Keys? Are not keys to be used to open locks? Can one be truly happy without the experience of beauty?

“Those who selfishly hoard what Renceth wills to be yours for your happiness seek to thwart Renceth’s will,” taught Galen. “Therefore, Renceth, Opener of Ways, authorizes you to take what he wills to be yours. And, since it is yours not the other’s, taking it cannot be unlawful. No man can be condemned for taking what it is his by divine will, for protecting what is his by divine will.”

And so the forces of chaos gained a powerful ally, and Galen’s city plunged into violence. A council of bishops convened and demanded Galen appear before them to answer charges of heresy. Galen refused, denying the council had any true authority. Armies were gathered, and Renceth’s faithful marched on Galen’s city. The seige lasted for years. Great was the suffering, and many on both sides died. Eventually, right order prevailed. A loyal remnant within the city opened the gates, and the crusaders surged within, putting many heretics to the sword before Galen was captured.

As justice demanded, Galen was given a chance to defend his actions. He persisted in his errors, and the tribunal passed sentence. Galen was beheaded in the public square, and his body was burnt in a purifying fire. As required by canon law, the charred remains were placed on display as a stark reminder of heresy’s consequences. When the sun rose the day after Galen’s execution, his blackened bones had vanished.

Agents of Tronsos stole those bones, regarding them as sacred relics. These agents interred Galen’s bones in a secret location in a desolate region several miles outside the city. Thieves and murderers devoted to Tronsos guard the site to this day, jealously preventing trespassers from approaching Galen’s grave.

Any cleric of 5th-level or higher who manages to safely approach Galen’s grave and offers appropriate sacrifices of objets d’art (worth at least 3,000 gold pieces) can call forth Galen, who will rise from his grave veiled in fire. The visiting cleric may interrogate Galen, who will answer questions as if the cleric had cast Contact Other Plane. The visiting cleric decides the maximum number of questions and suffers any negative effects that would result.

*Renceth is the God of Prophecy, Friendship, and Keys. Renceth knows the future, but he does not freely share that knowledge. Instead, he puts into the paths of his faithful the people and the resources necessary to open the doors that will be encountered. Those who ignore Renceth’s gifts find their paths full of obstacles whereas the observant find their paths full of opportunities.

**Tronsos is the God of Thieves and Beauty. Tronsos doesn’t reward his faithful. Instead, his faithful take their rewards from those unable to keep them from being taken. Of all rewards, beauty is the most prized, and beauty must be possessed and hidden away, safe from covetous eyes.

Tags: place of power, Swords & Wizardry

The waters of Lake Mauti churn eternally black even under the bluest of skies, and they remain icy even under the hottest of summer suns. Mauti’s dark chill seems to have infected the rugged hill around the lake as well. What few plants grow in the area are sickly and twisted, and the only fauna are reptiles, serpents, disease-carrying insects, and scavenging birds. As for the lake itself, nothing living calls its waters home.

The gnoll clans that prowl the plains, rocky hills, and canyons avoid Mauti and its surrounding territory. They call Mauti “demon-haunted” in their harsh, yapping language, and the gnolls refuse to pursue even their most hated enemies to within sight of the lake.

Every 19 years, when the new moon falls on the same night as the winter solstice, a terrifying event changes Mauti. From the depths rises a horrible bridge made from the intertwined bodies of screaming, squirming damned ones from some fearsome hell. This bridge of the damned spans the lake from shore to shore, a distance of about six miles, remaining until the first rays of the sun spill across the western horizon. Then, it goes shrieking back to whence it came.

Crossing the bridge is no easy feat. The hellspawned terrors that form the bridge object being walked upon. They grab and claw and bite. Each of the damned can be destroyed by spell, undead turning, or magical weapons, but to no real purpose. There are plenty more of the damned ready to take the place of any part of the bridge destroyed by those who attempt to cross it.

But, you wonder, why would anyone want to walk across the bridge?

Legends give several reasons. Any, all, or none of them may be true. Some say the bridge leads to the underworld. Those that manage to cross over can gain audiences with the evilest sorcerers and the unholiest priests who’ve ever lived, bartering for lost knowledge with these scions of hell. Other legends say the bridge leads to the gates into a palace long abandoned by one hell’s dukes. What manner of riches may await in such a place?

Then there are those tales that claim the bridge has two destinations. Those who seek only their own betterment find themselves plunged into a pit of black fire, wherein they are destroyed and reborn as part of the bridge itself. Those, however, with pure hearts discover themselves in a verdant field beneath a starry sky in the company of angelic beings whose blessings cannot be obtained any other way.

Tags: place of power, Swords & Wizardry

The Nowhere Stairs sit alone on a cracked and crumbling foundation on Mpira Utapotea, the southernmost island in the rugged Kupotea Archipelago. The Mpotevus, the people native to the archipelago, believe Mpira Utapotea to be hallowed ground sacred to the Bahari, their pantheon of mercurial sea deities. When conquerors from the Pơtao Imperium invaded Kupotea in search of gold and silver, the Mpotevus were quickly subjugated due to the Imperium’s technological superiority and the destructive magic of the Gămƀhet, the Mages of the Seven Fires.

Imperial Administrator Gai Gat was installed to oversee the subjugated Mpotevus. He defied the ancient taboos about building on Mpira Utapotea. He forced Mpotevu slaves to build a formidable fort overlooking the sea. From the beginning, the construction was fraught with difficulties. The Mpotevus sabotaged the work when they could. Strange accidents claimed many lives. Ships bearing construction materials were lost at sea. Gai Gat ignored these omens, and, in the eleventh year of his reign, his fort was nearly completed. Gai Gat and his family, along with a garrison of Imperium marines, moved to the fort in a show of force calculated to impress upon the locals how total was Pơtao mastery over the region.

In the dead of night, a fearsome storm rose from the sea and swept over Mpira Utapotea. Hours later, when the roiling clouds cleared and calm returned to the sea, nothing remained of Gai Gat’s fort except for its foundation and a set of seven stone steps leading up to nowhere. No sign of Gai Gat, his family, or the garrison was ever found.

Word of the storm and the fort’s destruction swept through the Kupotea Archipelago. Emboldened, the Mpotevus rebelled. Pwezas, great tentacled beasts, surged from the depths to aid the Mpotevus, and not even the Gămƀhet could burn away these monsters faster than the monsters tore apart the Imperium’s port towns.

Today, the Kupotea Archipelago remains free of Pơtao control. The natives remain hostile toward outsiders, and monstrous pwezas still lurk in the deep coastal waters. Adventurers sometimes brave the dangers of the archipelago in hopes finding lost Pơtao riches in the ruined port towns. Rumor also has it that, when the stars align properly, the Nowhere Stairs on Mpira Utapotea lead to and from the domain of the Bahari. This vast, watery realm reportedly contains enormous riches, for the Bahari consider all ships lost at sea to be sacrifices to their glory.

Tags: place of power

During the last winter of King Geirthjof’s reign, the jǫtnar raged down from their mountain lairs, ravaging Geirthjof’s frontier lands. Forts burned, and hundreds of people fled the advancing jǫtunn horde. When news of the incursion reached Geirthjof, the aged king donned his armor, took up his lance, and mounted his griffon to lead his armies into battle one last time.

At Forni Pass, Geirthjof met the advancing jǫtnar, knowing he had to stop them in the chokepoint leading out of Baridipopo Valley. Otherwise, the jǫtnar could spread out through the more loosely defended lands closer to the capital. The battle lasted throughout the day and into the early hours of the evening. Thousands died, and Geirthjof himself fell under the axe of the jǫtunn jarl Thrúdgelmir, but not before the king struck the jarl a mortal blow.

The strange mingling of human and jǫtnar gore, of noble sacrifice and bestial rapaciousness, cursed the land. As winter months turned to spring, Baridipopo Valley failed to thaw. Indeed, cold and ice tightened their grip even more over the region. Today, no matter what, Baridipopo Valley remains locked in deepest winter. The arctic conditions fade as one moves away from the valley, but the valley itself is always frozen. Heavy snow and ice, sudden windstorms and blizzards, and air so cold that it burns the lungs combine to make life within Baridipopo Valley almost impossible. Even animals native to the arctic lands around the valley do not venture far into this eternal winter.

King Geirthjof’s frontier on the other side of Baridipopo Valley has yet to reclaimed. The pass through the valley cannot be used for trade and travel. The frontier’s burned-out forts and destroyed villages remain as grim monuments to jǫtunn savagery. Bands of jǫtnar prowl the frontier, but even they seldom venture into the valley.

“Why?” you ask.

It’s not because jǫtnar cannot survive the frigid conditions of Baridipopo Valley, but because of the other dangers resulting from the strange curse that seized the land after Geirthjof’s death and victory. More than winter’s hazards await any who would trespass on the valley’s unhallowed land. Undead monsters made from corpses, ice, and terror stalk the valley. Colonies of deadly ice bats swarm through the dead, frozen forest.

Still, the brave or the foolish risk Baridipopo Valley’s dangers. The jǫtnar were known to have looted and pillaged the frontier, but the spoils of the victories were never recovered. Is their lost treasure locked in ice somewhere in Baridipopo Valley? So far, few adventurers have entered the valley and emerged with more than tales of terror and body parts lost to frostbite, but the successes are tantalizing: weapons with remarkable qualities, coffers full of gems and gold coins, et cetera.

What greater treasures may yet be discovered?

Tags: monsters, place of power, Swords & Wizardry

Day 5 of the 30-Day D&D Challenge asks me to write about my favorite die or dice. Really? I supposed to have an actual favorite die or set of dice? I don’t know how to write about this one specifically, so I’ll go generally.

My eyes aren’t what they used to be. I’m a bit near-sighted, so I wear glasses for seeing things at a distance. Without my glasses, objects farther away than about ten to twelve feet or so get blurry, and the farther away they are, the blurrier they get. With my glasses on, however, distance objects are clear. Also with my glasses on, close-up objects become blurry. Right now as I type this, my glasses are somewhere other than on my face. (I think they’re in the bedroom.) I can see the computer screen just fine. If I were to get up and find my glasses to put them on, the letters that I’m typing would be almost as blurry as if they were farther away and I wasn’t using my glasses.

Therefore, I like dice that are easy to read. Nowadays, this rules out most crystal dice. Instead, I like opaque dice with high contrast between the die’s color and the color its numbers are inked with.

And now for something haunted.

Several years ago, Paaie Breeshey brought her troupe to the city. The hoi polloi welcomed Breeshey, for her entertainments were famous near and far. The city’s elite welcomed her as well. Breeshey brought more than famed entertainments. She brought prestige, and Breeshey was much sought after for private performances in the homes of the wealthy and influential.

One of those wealthy and influential elites was the young Count Domonkos Vili. Handsome, urbane, witty. These all described Vili. So too did cold and cruel. The older Breeshey became smitten with Vili, and the count, in turn, toyed with the actress’s affections. Breeshey’s devotion grew into idolatry as Vili’s cruelties became more elaborate. Gradually, among the elites, Breeshey’s reputation turned from celebrated artist to pitiable fool. After Vili made public certain letters from Breeshey as part of a satire he’d written on the topic of lecherous matrons, Breeshey could tolerate no more humiliation.

So, she announced that she and her troupe were giving one final performance before they left the city for greener pastures. The elite, including Vili, attended en masse. Unknown to all, Breeshey’s final performance would be her supreme act of vengeance. She contracted with dark powers, exchanging her soul for the power to bring terror and death onto the heads of those who mocked her.

And terror and death were brought, turning Breeshey’s final performance into an orgy of screams, blood, and madness.

Although the city’s citizens demanded the theatre burned and the ground on which stands salted, the Lord Mayor refused. The property was walled off, and the theatre stands today as a cautionary tale.

Of course, rumors that undead monsters and even demons haunt the theatre have spread since Breeshey’s final performance. In hushed tones, people also speak of the treasures left unclaimed in the theatre. Breeshey was a wealthy woman. Neither her body nor her riches were ever discovered, and perhaps both lay in some dark, cursed corner of the theatre even today.

Tags: 30 Day D&D Challenge, place of power