Textile Wizards (Worldbuilding & GLOG Class)

 History, Practically

In 1023, the first Wizard College opened up in Baryinnah. The previous 15 years were focused on cleaning up after nearly three centuries of constant plagues, leaving little time or money for loftier pursuits. Compounding this were the Sacellum's attitudes toward magic - non-divine sources of magic were already frowned upon before the Age of Eight Plagues, to say nothing of how they were treated after millions were lost to druidic magic.

But, as would increasingly become a theme for the Sacellum going forwards, economic interests began to outweigh religious prejudice. Enchanted textiles proved to be a unique commodity that could help the Sacellum pay off their enormous debt to their foreign sponsors, and the processes were already strongly established as a folk tradition in hinterland areas outside Baryinnah. 

Families living in the northern wilderness of Starfyk flocked to Baryinnah in exchange for a better life, especially after the Sacellum began seizing land for their former soldiers to farm. Most formed tight-knit communities that communally supported the small number of their own who did gain entrance to the College of Telamancy, though some wound up working within the black markets that formed around other forms of folk magic (necromancy and pyromancy, mainly).

The tradition waxed and waned for the next three and a half centuries, until Hazzem's emergence onto the global economic stage rapidly industrialized Starfyk. Telamancy tried to compete, but the College closed its doors in 1403 and largely reduced the practice to an artform. There was a resurgence of the practice among Starfyk's aristocracy in the latter half of the 1600s, resulting in the writing of Quasicotati's Codex on Telamancy, which was republished and analyzed by secondary sources for centuries to come. An original copy rests in the restricted collection of the Temple of the Elder Children during Loom's space age.

Alice Smeets and Atis Rezistans

Glog Class: Telamancer / Textile Wizard

Starting Skill [1d3] 1 = Weaving, 2 = Carpentry, 3 = Stonecarving

You begin play with a profession-appropriate weapon (sharpened knitting needles, a hammer, ect.) that deal 1d6, a burlap cloak that can also be zipped up into a durable bag, and an invoice for 25 lbs. of the raw material of clay, stone, wood, or another material that your GM approves.

MISHAPS

1. Gain 1 stress.

2. Take 1d6 damage.

3. Your Casting Dice are always expended after you roll them until the next time you take a full rest.

4. You lose your grip strength for the next 1d6 rounds, rendering you unable to hold onto objects, climb ropes, grapple creatures, ect.

5. Needles and thread materialize from a random nearby creature's hands (will always be an enemy if applicable) and hook into your skin. For the next 1d6 rounds, you cannot move and they can puppet you around on their turn as a free action. They can only move you as far as your usual movement allows. You may Save to resist moving into dangerous terrain.

6. You turn into a doll for 1d4 rounds, losing the ability to spellcast. The only weapons you can use are needles and scissors, which deal 1 damage. This lasts 1 turn longer for each Doom you've incurred from this class.

DOOMS

1. Your skin turns into cloth. You permanently take double damage from fire and slashing damage and, for the next 1d6 rounds, must choose between moving and taking an action on each of your turns.

2. Your eyes turn into buttons. You are fully blinded for the next 1d6 rounds, and after that take a permanent -4 to attack visible targets or defend yourself against visible attacks.

3. Your guts turn into stuffing. You are now fully a doll - still with a mind and soul, but no ability to use your body. This is less lethal than most Dooms, but infinitely more torturous. 

This Doom can be avoided by creating and animating your own doll-body before you fully turn. 

SPELL LIST (1D12)

1. Mending

R: 30 ft. T: Object D: Instant

Heal up to [sum] damage dealt to a single object that hasn't been completely destroyed, or reinforce an object to add [dice]x10 pounds to its weight.

2. Transpose

R: 60 ft. T: Variable D: Instant

Exchange the position of two game pieces. 1 MD can exchange objects, 2 MD people, 3 MD ogres, 4 MD houses. Unwilling targets (creatures or held objects) can Save to resist.

3. Grease

R: 60 ft. T: [dice]x10 ft. area D: [sum] rounds

Rapidly compress aetheric spirits into a puddle of flammable oil, causing creatures in the area to save or fall prone. The puddle is difficult terrain for the duration. 

4. Magician's Stitch

R: 30 ft. T: Rope, belt, ect. D: [sum] rounds

Gain control of any vaguely serpentine object for the duration. Each round of the duration, including the round of casting, can manipulate the target freely to entangle or constrict creatures (victims get a Save). Tensile strength of target remains unchanged. This spell is traditionally used to weave baskets quickly.

5. Butterfingers

R: 30 ft. T: Creature D: [sum] rounds

Each round, target must save [dice] times. For each failed save, choose one: target loses its grip on an object or creature of your choice, target trips and falls prone, or target uses a random magic item with random targets.

6. Nailgun

R: 30 ft. T: [sum] targets D: Instant

Unattended and blunt/sharp objects within the range volley towards up to [sum] target creatures, dealing [dice] damage each. Cannot target the same creature multiple times.

7. Impasse

R: Touch T: Object D: Permanent

Target object is permanently enchanted to restrict the access of certain materials. Choose up to [dice]: air, water, sand/soil, fire, projectiles. The chosen materials cannot penetrate the enchanted object, or pass through an aperture encircled by the chosen object (i.e. a basket could be enchanted to have holes but still prevent water from passing through it). Casting Impasse on an object already enchanted with Impasse overwrites the previous casting.

8. Improvised Armor

R: Touch T: Creature D: [sum] rounds

Unattended objects within range (plates, garbage can lids, ect.) encircle a creature, protecting it. It gains +[dice] AC for the duration. The creature may end this effect early to prevent [sum] damage from a single attack, throwing all of their protective objects in front of the attack.

9. Wall of Stone

R: 120 ft. D: [sum] rounds

Draw a wall on the current map that fills [sum] squares (5x[sum] cubic feet). Each section of the wall has 10x[dice] HP, and is 10 ft. high. You may use one of your squares to instead extend the height of one section of the wall by 10 ft. 

10. Flesh to Stone

R: Touch T: Creature made of flesh or object made of stone D: [sum] rounds

Target flesh becomes stone, or target stone becomes flesh, for the duration. Flesh turned to stone is petrified, unable to move and immune to everything less blunt than a sledgehammer. If the target's HD is less than or equal to [dice], the effect is permanent. Stone turned to flesh becomes useless and deeply unnerving. 1 MD affects stone tools, 2 MD affects metal, 3 MD can turn a stone wall into flesh, 4 MD will probably deeply mentally scar anyone who sees the result.

11. Animate Objects

R: 30 ft. T: Unattended objects D: [dice] hours

Up to [sum] unattended objects become non-sentient creatures for the duration. Out of combat, each object can perform labor as a very loyal toddler (willing to do whatever, but weak and generally inept). In combat, they have 1 HP, 10 AC, and deal 1 damage using your attack bonus. They all take their actions immediately following your turn.

12. God Particle

D: [dice]d20 hours

You disappear on a voyage Somewhere Else for the duration. When you return, you do so with [sum] pounds of Mysterium, a metal shaped from the god particle that can make Really Good Stuff, given a properly talented smith. [dice]x5% chance you do not return, or that something that seems very similar to you returns in your place. If cast in combat, an object is coated in Mysterium for the duration of combat, giving it +[sum] to hit and damage if it's a weapon, +[sum] to AC if it's armor, ect. [dice]x10% chance you open a portal to Somewhere Else on accident when doing this.

S.W.O.R.D. #1

The Calendar and Zodiac of The Thirteen

This post is primarily for the benefit of me and my players. Knowing the calendar of your gameworld is honestly the kind of tedium that I think you don't really need to make a setting great, but I do also think it's fun. One of my best memories of the original Dishonored is just seeing all of their different months and remembering how cool it was that they went out of their way to make up new ones.

Besides, this is also an excuse to write a zodiac for my gameworld. This is way more relevant worldbuilding, in my opinion, because you can learn something new about your character by figuring out their star sign - even if they're not given to believe that kind of thing, you're learning that about them.

But a calendar is the foundation upon which we must build this worldbuilding McMansion, so let's get to it. Here's the calendar of the most prominent pantheon in my gameworld, the Thirteen.

Calendar of the Lastborn

This calendar begins with the end of the War of Ichor, a deific conflict that established them as the dominant pantheon in most circles. Loom, like our planet, has 365-day years, with each day being 24 hours (though it was different under the old sun). So omnipresent are the Thirteen that the months themselves are named for them. The months are, in the order they occur (which is alphabetical/youngest-to-oldest):

Alentyan, Cashel, Crucible, Endymeron, Graeler, Haraad, Jaspus, Ka, Ouran, Quar, Sotiro, Troyt, Zuzen.

Each of these 13 months contains 28 days exactly; this makes 364 days. The last day of the year, which exists separate from any month, is the Day of the Fallen. This is typically a festival day where the memories of those departed are celebrated, and trains of nonhostile zombies are decorated as they make their slow march to the underworld.

Each month is composed of seven weeks. The days of the week are named for the Archlords (four of them, anyways): these days are typically named Alentide, Orimorn, Oseilli, and Rimhrset. In most societies (the ones that reckon with this model, anyways) one of these will serve as a day of rest; this is typically the day named for the Archlord that society has the most reverence for.

The exact details (name spelling, order of the days, which day is the off-day, ect.) vary wildly; when the Thirteen were writing their scripture on the structure of time (really just their opinion on it made manifest through their sway over reality), they only really cared about their names being up in lights.

Whether or not Loom has leap years is somewhat of a matter of debate: some people celebrate the Rykian Festival every four years, taking place the day after the Day of the Fallen. However, this is commonly considered heretical, as Rykus is a very unpopular Archlord. Whether or not the day actually happens depends largely on how much theological sway the followers of Rykus have at the time it would happen.

Elements of Astronomy

The Thirteen's Zodiac

Astrology is much more given to regional variance than the calendar itself - at least, it was. After the God Purge, tensions flared between the members of the Thirteen - they had provided mortals with the weapons capable of enabling that atrocity. They almost descended into war with themselves, as the pantheon before them (the Archlords) had. 

The Thirteen all come from very different origins. They are, for the most part, Lastborn Gods: the final creations of dead planets, imbued with the entire history of civilizations they never saw. After all, every celestial body gives birth to some kind of cosmic being.

In order to prevent the Thirteen from teetering over the brink of civil war again, Quar (god of truth and emotions) and Sotiro (god of stars and travel) to posit a solution: they would need go-betweens. Envoys between each of them, picked from their own adherents. These became the Prime Disciples, who would undergo considerable mission creep in the centuries to come.

Knowing this and accepting the necessity of it, the gods accepted. And, as the idea was plucked from the zodiac system of a fledgling society called Etail Noum, it was already written in the stars.

As with the months, each star sign is dominant for 28 days. However, they each start in one month (the month of the god to whom they are a disciple) and extend into the next. Specifically, each sign begins their reign on the 14th of their prime god's month, and continues reigning 'til the 13th of the next month.

no source for this lol apparently it's just really common

Quazzar the Ovum is the Prime Disciple of Alentyan. Quazzar was said to be the last member of an avian species of incredible wisdom; however, it only survived as long as it had due to never hatching. The Ovum within the night sky looks like an oval with a branching line running to its midpoint. Those born under Quazzar are noted as being the most patient people on Loom - for better or for worse.

Rivahri the Jewler rules during the month of Cashel. She is said to be the first of the Zoskian philosopher-queens, who kickstarted the idea of material wealth as a manifestation of purity, now taking her rightful place taken among the stars. Her constellation is often interpreted as a pair of hands repairing a ring. Rivahris are known for their stubbornness and love of material comforts - and their great advice.

Mobiloch the Harp is Crucible's Prime Disciple, and sorely resents not technically ruling over the month's holiday season. Mobilach was a wildly popular musician in the pre-flood city of Sfris, and was known as a philanthropist and heretic in her own time. Her constellation is, of course, her eponymous harp. Mobiloch's star-born are known to be great schemers that eschew superstition (they're the sign most likely to call astrology a load of bullshit, for example). 

Terminus the Conductor leads their orchestra starting in Endymeron. Records relating to who - if anyone - Terminus was in life were famously destroyed at the Battle of the World Engine, the only act of inter-Thirteen conflict during the God Purge. Their constellation looks like a musical stand, and those born under Terminus are said to be as histrionic as they come.

Factorem the Tallier rules the month of Graeler. Factorem was a wandering monk during the time of the God Purge, sighted on most of Loom's continents during that period. He was known to keep an exact count of the dead in Loom's major cities, but could not bring himself to notch a tally for his love when they died. Factorem's constellation is a many-notched staff, and Talliers are said to be ruled by their emotions above all else (and, in most theatrical depictions, especially sorrow).

Neztim the Owl is the prime disciple of Haraad, a goddess of nature and physical health. Haraad famously despised the mortal races of Loom, and as an act of spite nominated a simple owl as her Prime Disciple. Its constellation is seemingly a random cluster of stars, but looks like a barn owl's face when rendered properly. Neztims ("owls" in Celestial) are oft-maligned as loners, but are equally often admitted to being capable of great wisdom and determination.

Tynder the Firebrand is the foremost speaker during the month of Jaspus. She is said to have been the halfling who convinced Jaspus that her people were worthy of his blessing - so great was her passion (one of the few things the forge god respected). Her constellation takes the form of a torch. Firebrands are everything their name would suggested, and this sign often struggles with self-imposed isolation (they're prone to thinking they'll hurt everyone around them).

Zirkan the Hammer rules during Ka's month. Zirkan was a mighty warlord who stormed the gates of Deitia during the God Purge, and challenged the god of chaos to a duel for their spot on the pantheon. Zirkan was quickly defeated when he cut off Ka's hand, only to then realize he had been standing on it the whole time - thus he tumbled into the night sky, to burn as a constellation for all eternity. Those born to Zirkan typically meet their problems head-on, and have a sense of adventure that invariably gets them into trouble.

Kontezdi the Aureole is the Prime Disciple of Ouran. Once exiled from the city of Wofeng for daring to paint the gods (considered a sin), Kontezdi is said to have painted a depiction of Ouran so wonderous that she took it on over her old form. Kontezdi's constellation is a head surrounded by a halo. Aureoles are, like their namesake, artists above all else, and are known to choose great friends while abandoning those who fail to meet their standards.

Velk the Stargazer is, perhaps, the first Prime Disciple chronologically, and begins his reign during the month of Quar. It is said that Velk, a mendicant in poor standing with the Sacellum, was the only one in the mighty city of Ner Kangix willing to push Quar's wheelchair to the top of a nearby hill. His constellation takes the form of two figures atop a peak. Those born to his sign are typically spoken of as intensely compassionate, but notoriously bad with money.

Cartigo the Quill rules the month of Sotiro. The very first royal mapwrite of the Ravenstead Kingdom, Cartigo spent much of their life sailing the shoreline of Alesir. This, of course, necessitated an intimate familiarity with the stars - which is how they caught star-crowned Sotiro's attention. Their constellation represents the quill that they used so much in life. Cartigos are known to be friendly and especially flirty, though this results in many of them struggling to respect boundaries.

Drald the Aspis is the only dragon among the Prime Disciples, and serves the dracogoddess Troyt. Drald was a space dragon who famously disobeyed its orders during the Fall of the Archlords to protect Troyt's clutch. Millennium later it was honored with a place among the stars, taking the unmistakable shape of the shields common in that period. Dralds are associated with a lack of nuance made up for by their incredible honesty.

Sauropo the Learned was the finally Prime Disciple to be taken, as their patron Zuzen was mistrusting of mortals following the God Purge. Zuzen famously challenged the wisest minds of the world to come before him for a test of codes and ethics, and Sauropo was the only one to pass. Dramatizations of this event often cite Sauropo as answering the question of their place in the universe with "that seems up to thee, milord." Satisfied, Zuzen showed Sauropo their place among the stars in the shape of a meditating man. Sauropos are known to be obsessive, usually either in a specific field or with themselves.

Angels

The definition of an angel on Loom is rather different than in most other campaign settings.

There are still legends, of course. Tales of kindhearted, down-winged folk that descend from on high to impart kindness to mortals. Or fervent whispers of flaming avatars of justice. Or even the murmurs of ghosts, who say that angels are psychopomps, who sort each soul into its earned afterlife at death.

And surely, some angels do this. Just as some mortals bring kindness to their communities, or justice to their criminals, or peace to their dead.

But that is not the definition of an angel.

An angel is a refugee from a dead universe.

Prayers

I am now one of many D&D bloggers who has read and stolen from Kill Six Billion Demons.

All angels come from somewhere, and their prayer is one of the few things they usually have left from that somewhere. They're perfectly capable of speaking the tongues of the universe they inhabit, but an angel's prayer is always said in their native tongue.

Language comprehension spells aren't always able to divine the literal meaning of an angel's prayer. Sometimes that prayer might contain concepts that are foreign to this universe, and most magic isn't strong enough to translate across universal lines. If you're DMing Loom angels and find yourself in this situation, feel free to pull a TAZ and do your best impression of glitch noises/TV static.

For those foolish enough to fight an angel, the angel will always take the time to say a short version of their prayer before they bring harm to anything. Mechanically, the angel will spend its first round taking no actions except praying. Nor will it move. It might, however, take reactions after its turn ends. That first turn is your best shot at killing it.

Additionally, an angel's prayer will, in combat, warp reality around it. Things will become more akin to the angel's home universe. Probability will contort, and threaten to snap under the metaphysical bulk of two universes colliding.

Angel of Order

And lo, behold the end result of our long work: fortune writhing on the end of a spear.

Clint Cearley

An Angel of Order is a fairly common angel, usually found on Crest. They have done much to foster the aasimar culture on that moon, contributing their advanced knowledge to its mechanical infrastructure and its highly stratified society.

They come from a universe that was entropy-deficient. It could have held immortal, eternal, not subject to the death that comes for all material planes. But it was destroyed by the hands of mortals, and now they work to ensure this world lasts as long as it can.

Of course, you can also just fight them. Here's an explanation of how I do system-agnostic statblocks, but bear in mind I'm designing these for 5E. Unlike most other angels, they like to fight in teams. They will still all take their first turn off to pray. 

Angel of Order

HD 6 Size Medium AC As chain Speed As human, fly as hawk

Strength 18 Charisma 22

Twinned Swords: Dodge 17, 1d8 + 1d8

Prayer Against Entropy - The Angel of Order will always forgo any other action on its first turn, and will instead pray. After its prayer is completed, all d20 rolls made during combat are instead rolled as 3d6. Critical hits and critical misses are no longer possible. 

Spellcasting - Spell Save DC = 17

3/day: Lightning Helix

Lighting Helix

Standard action, Range 30 ft.

Target creature must make a Dexterity save or take 1d6 lightning damage. If it hits, an ally (or yourself) also within range recovers 1d6 health.

Angel of Scavengers

High above the rotten rows, cloth and metal, teeth and crows!

Lucy Lisett

Most commonly revered by gnolls and kenku, the Angels of Scavengers are perhaps some of the oldest angels. There is no recorded knowledge of their original universe, only rumors of a world without a concept of ownership.

They have been to many universes, and it's said they grow a new eye for each apocalypse they've witnessed. That's unsubstantiated, but what's definitely true is that they collect trinkets from each universe they visit. You're more likely to encounter one as a weird vendor in the middle of a dungeon than as an outright enemy.

Angel of Scavengers

HD 10 Size Large AC As leather Speed As dwarf, fly as crow

Strength 16

Talons: Dodge 14, 1d6 + 1d6 + 1d6 + 1d6

Prayer of Mimicry - The Angel of Scavengers will always forgo any other action on its first turn, and will instead pray. After its prayer is completed, any creature may forgo making a d20 roll to instead use the natural roll of the last d20 rolled.

Angel of Exile

None shall suffer the same fate as our Progenitor. Let there be no more exiles.

Randy Vargas

These draconic angels hail from a universe where Rimhr, the Archdragon, conquered all of space and time. They bore witness firsthand to his cruelty, and protested against him. For this, he cast them out of his domain.

Some say that universe still lives, somewhere out in the web of metaphysics. Regardless, it is certainly dead to these angels.

I would tell you more about them, but my players might read these and I don't want them getting spoiled.

Angel of Exile

HD 8 Size Huge AC As chain Speed As giant, fly as dragon

Strength 22

Greataxe Aflame: Dodge 20, slashing 1d12, fire 1d6

Prayer of Mercy - The Angel of Exile will always forgo any other action on its first turn, and will instead pray. After its prayer is completed, a natural 20 on a d20 roll no longer results in a critical hit. Instead, if your natural roll is equal to or greater than your target's current health, your roll is a critical hit.

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hey friends,

i don't really know who actually reads this blog, but i hope you're all well during these odd times we're in. if you're inclined to do so, let me know in the comments how you're all doing.

wash your hands, avoid close contact, and use this time to do all the tabletop stuff you never had the chance to before.

Yetkoli Government

My current game has placed my players in Silverbrine, still known to its 40% elven population as Khayit. It's a coastal city whose human inhabitants have just barely forgotten about the brief, bloody war that introduced its current colonial regime a half-century ago.

Silverbrine is a Yetkoli vassal city - while technically distinct from the Empire, it is ruled predominantly by those hailing from the imperial seat on the other side of the continent.

Specifically, as with all vassal cities, it is ruled by a Septumvirate - a council of seven who write the laws, determine their meaning, and oversee their enforcement. They have complete political and military power within their city, and are kept in line only by infighting.

There are three types of council members: Malghres, Klohres, and Vahres. (MAHL-gress, CHLO-ress, and VAH-ress respectively). Of note is that -hres means "whip" in the Yetkoli dialect of common.

The Emperor's Whip

The Malghres is a single member of the Septumvirate, appointed by the Yetkoli emperor and approved by the Imperial Legislature. Unlike all other positions within the council, it is a life sentence, barring cases where the Emperor or Legislature removes the Malghres from office.

The role of the Malghres is to serve as the will of Empire, which in many cities (none moreso than Silverbrine) is very far away. They are often appointed from the Emperor's personal friends or from military officials that ingratiate themselves to the Emperor - similar to how ambassadors function within the real-world U.S. government. They often wear ceremonial armor or carry ritual weapons into office.

It's very common for the Malghres to abstain from votes within the Septumvirate, coming in only on obviously-unanimous votes or to serve as a tiebreaker. Otherwise, the Malghres's vote is seen as one speaking for the Emperor - and perhaps even the Empire as a whole. Used lightly, that can be a very dangerous thing for everyone involved.

Micah Ulrich, Under the sign of Virgo.

The current Malghres is a woman named Daria Bhennok. A short, swarthy woman, she's rumored to have dwarven blood in her ancestry. As far as she is concerned, though, she is pure yetkoli. She has served for 28 years after distinguishing herself during a revolution under the last Emperor. She mainly abides by her role as a neutral party, but has broken her abstinence in the past for policies surrounding spiritual freedoms.

The Purse's Whip

There are three Klohreses, and they are appointed by a board of stockholders who have stake in the specific colony for which the Klohreses serve. Since the creation of the Imperial Legislature in the 1140s following the disastrous Gnoll Wars, the Emperor's budget has been out of their own hands. The Legislature decides it, in addition to having the final say on where the Emperor can declare an expansionary war.

To circumnavigate this, the Emperor began to seek out private investors who were willing to fund Colonial Venture Companies. They provide any extra money the Emperor needs to start the wars that build colonies, getting around the Legislature's financial limits on declarations of war.

In addition to having first dibs on the industry of the colonies they fund, these warmonger-stockholders are able to appoint a vassal city's Klohreses. Typically, these Septumvirate members are most concerned with matters of industry and government budgeting, usually coming from the companies owned by stockholders. Most vassal cities view them as incompetent products of nepotism, and they're mostly right.

Cucculelli Shaheen

Klohreses are also known to hold fancy balls and other social events whenever they're up for re-appointment. Stockholders review their appointments every five years, taking into account their record and popularity within the city. Reappointment season happens in Crucible, after the first twelve days. Within the frame of my current game, reappointment season is coming up in a few months.

The current Klohreses are:
- Setai Merr, the daughter of a yetkoli trade baron. Setai is most well known for being the "party girl" of the Septumvirate, throwing a government-sanctioned ball almost every other month and mostly just voting in accordance with the other Klohres.
- Gardov Vestwryn, brother of a Rikolese CEO that distributes cosmetic alchemical supplies. Notably, he has been re-appointed once already, which is somewhat rare for Klohres. He's known for hard-line conservatism and prioritizing industry interests above all else.
- Lian Jowdaan, a ratfolk. They're a entrepreneur trying to expand the firearm trade into Silverbrine, appointed by a saltpetre mine owner back in the Empire. The first ratfolk to ever serve on Silverbrine's Septumvirate, and one of the few ratfolk to serve in any Septumvirate.

The People's Whip

The last three members of the Septumvirate are the Vahreses. They are the only council members elected by citizens - anyone owning land gets a vote. Their terms last ten years, and they are re-elected in the month of Zuzen. The current Vahreses are in their fifth year in office.

Can't find a source beyond wearemadeofblood.tumblr.com

A Vahres typically is the one who introduces a law to the Septumvirate, as they have constituents to worry about and the most direct ties to the city. A Vahres may only ever serve one term, in order to reflect the changing values of citizens.

Laws regulating who can serve as a Vahres have changed over time - originally, only humans could serve. Right now there's some activism surrounding the removal of the landowner status, but it lacks momentum.

The current Vahreses are:
- Micchi Sabba, a wood elf. Also the first elf to serve in any Septumvirate. The campaign to have him elected was an arduous one, with the Irzmir (Silverbrine's underground revolutionary newspaper) campaigning for him constantly.
- Racha Itte, a yetkoli human campaigning on a platform of "clean politics." His supporters are mainly people who dislike the other two Vahres. He doesn't do much to address the over racism of man of his supporters.
- Chev Kastyron, a lightfoot halfling who's known for having been a poisoner ten years ago. She was inspired to get into politics after having her business shut down by the Silverbrine Reserve, and her backers mostly consist of anti-police voters.

---

sorry 'bout the long delay between posts. since i'm DMing most of my inspiration goes into planning for that. this is still pretty much planning for my current game, but it's something i feel comfortable having public.

i honestly wish this government was weirder, but there's a couple political players in my current game and i wanna keep things fairly familiar to real-world.

as always, go read anders's blog.

The Twelve Gifts of Crucible

Crucible is the third god of the Thirteen, and also the third month of the year, the last of winter's days. The spheres that Crucible rules over are Wealth and Fate. You might think this would make him cruel, but more than anything he is just absent.

Not a lot of mythology exists revolving around the Thirteen, but Crucible is a rare exception.

In the days after the War of Ichor, the Thirteen were weary from their long battle with the Titans, and wearier still from the treaties brokered afterwards with the remaining mortal races. Crucible saw this, and took action. To cheer his fellows up, most scriptures would say. The more pessimistic would tell you that his actions were meant to boost morale and, thus, efficiency. Whatever the case, Crucible gave the twelve other gods gifts over the next twelve days.

For mortals, this was translated into Loom's holiday season. For the first twelve days of Crucible, people exchange small gifts. Depending on the person, they may also mirror or reference the gifts given in the original myth.

Crucible 1 - Alentyan

For the youngest god, son of an Archlord, Crucible melted down the fat of a maddening beast from the depths of the Shadowfell. From this sprouted a blue candle that could cleave through any darkness. It made for a great reading light, and Alentyan smiled (as best as his beaked face could) at the thoughtfulness.

If one were to give a specific gift this day, it would ideally be as close as possible to the candle described in this myth.

Seb McKinnon

Crucible 2 - Cashel

Cashel inherited the divine spheres of Earth and Water from two separate Titans, and so to this god Crucible altered fate. Before this, gold was the element of the heavens - it was found among the clouds, and hollowed from the highest peaks. Now it is found deep in the earth's belly, and sometimes floating through rivers.

The appropriate gift for this day is a monetary gift, specifically to someone of poor social standing. Most people just flick a gold piece into a beggar's hand, instead of the usual silver.

The people of Zosk revere this event. The dwarves were not nearly as big a fan of this act.

Crucible 3 - Endymeron

After the previous day's gift, Crucible thought it would be wise to give something to the dwarves - Endymeron's people. The three headed god ruled over Air and Time, and as such Endymeron's people philosophized a great deal over those two things. So, Crucible crafted the meteorite.

Stones from the sky are the subject of fierce debate among many dwarven philosophers. Philosophically, they are heretical. Practically, they contain many useful metals.

Specific gifts given this day are usually either trinkets crafted from exotic metals, long-winded essays, or anything given to a dwarf.

Crucible 4 - Graeler

Graeler rules the spheres of Empires and Mind. As such, Crucible thought it would be appropriate to create something that fit both. Something that required mental conquering.

And thus, Crucible wrote the first riddle. Graeler was, uncharacteristically, delighted.

The appropriate gift for this day is, of course, telling your friends a riddle they haven't heard before.

Crucible 5 - Haraad

As the goddess of Nature and Health, Haraad's power wanes with the seasons. Within the calendar she rules over the highest days of spring, closest to the solstice. Conversely, she is weakest in the fall, when life begins to decay and when illness commonly creeps over the populous.

To cheer her up, Crucible tinted the leaves of autumn's last days beautiful reds and oranges. Haraad smiled, a rare occurrence in the dead of winter, when this myth took place.

On this day the faithful typically give a gift to anyone in their life who is, at the time, sick. If that happens to be nobody they know, they give someone a preserved leaf from the previous fall, when the colors yet turned.

Crucible 6 - Jaspus

Fire and Home are Jaspus's spheres, and yet they have trouble co-existing. Light a fire in an enclosed space, and smoke chokes out its residents. This rule has exceptions, of course, but it troubled Jaspus. So, for him, Crucible crafted the chimney.

Jaspus nodded in approval. This was one of the most emotional acts taken by the forge-god, at least in recorded history.

The traditional gift for this day is a red cake, cooked to look like a brick. In some parts of the world, sweeping your friend's chimney is also considered traditional.

Crucible 7 - Ka

What gift do you give to a god of Magic and Chaos?

Ka was tickled by the prospect, especially when Crucible invited them over to a house in Deitia, heavenbound city of the gods. Ka relished the opportunity to topple Crucible's plans.

Then they walked in the door ajar, and a bucket of water fell on Ka's head. Each of their snorts from the resultant laughing fit birthed a slaad.

This is the day of Crucible where you play pranks on your friends.

Crucible 8 - Ouran

On the other hand, Crucible was very confident as to what they needed to give to Ouran. As the god of Morality and, more importantly, Invention, Crucible needed to craft something mechanical. After much thought, Crucible presented Ouran with a compass, late in the day.

A compass is the requisite gift, of course. It would be wise to make sure it's the right kind - giving someone in the eastern hemisphere one that's weighted towards the east pole won't be very helpful.

Yeong-Hao Han

Crucible 9 - Quar 

Crucible's original gift to Quar has been scrubbed from history - apparently, it was horribly offensive. Though, in a roundabout way, Crucible's apology to the god of Truth and Emotion wound up as its own gift.

On the ninth of Crucible, celebrators are supposed to give any long-overdue apologies they might have.

Crucible 10 - Sotiro

For the ruler over Stars and Travel, Crucible crafted the cloudless night - a thing that would allow all lost travelers to find their way home, or perhaps further away from it.

Crucible had to call in several favors for this gift, and as such the most appropriate thing one can do on this day is to offer help to any who may need it.

Crucible 11 - Troyt

Waking up early, Crucible flagged down the second child of the Archdragon. He wanted to show her how to create bronze - for a goddess of War and Lightning, a mainly-copper sword seemed the perfect gift. Troyt would later go on to show her followers that same process.

Bronze trinkets are, of course, the gift of choice.

Crucible 12 - Zuzen

To the dracogod of Law and Thunder, Cashel gifted a book with ever-expanding pages, and a quill with limitless ink. This was to allow him to record as many laws as he could possibly think of. Instead, Zuzen used it to record the names of each god felled during the God Purge, three centuries after when this myth took place.

This day is reserved for gifts to those in mourning.

Orias, the Sylvaa, and Fey

As we know her now, Orias is the Archfey. Queen of the faeries, higher than all courts. She is one of the Archlords, and the only one most people would designate as "good."

But it wasn't always so.

A dozen-thousand years ago, there existed a race on Loom called the Sylvaa. They were a race of plants with humanoid forms, usually appearing to be made of green vines. They usually have broad, flat heads to absorb sunlight.

Sunlight being their primary object of worship - though Orias, then called the Archsylvan, created them, she was humble and protested their earliest offerings. Whole flower fields were arranged for her and trees mystically modified to grow in her image. While Orias appreciated the beauty of their altars, and loved her creations deeply, she also wanted to remain distant so that they could form their own culture. So they came to, for the most part, worship Loom's sun.

Jesper Eising

They created the first clocks, obelisks whose shadow would reveal the time and date. They pioneered many light-producing spells. They named the sun Ianap, or "mother of hearths," for it was Her light that allowed their Mother Trees (known to them as Voria) to grow.

Voria grew from Sylvaa graveyards, which resemble thickets of vines spread across vast swathes of ground. All Sylvaa have seeds for hearts, and when they die they sink to the ground and allow the seed to seep into the earth, where it can be nourished. Eventually, if enough Sylvaa died in the same place, a network of these seeds would form and birth a new Voria - which resemble dozens of thin trees twisting around each other to form one thick trunk, with hundreds of branches.

Most Sylvaa who hailed from the same communities resembled each other, so to distinguish individuals they often carved their names into their skin. It's similar to tattoos for humans, and many Sylvaa went further than just a name - they might have entire handwritten works across the length of their body. Sylvaa were known for being fantastic writers, and in modern times original Sylvaa literature is priceless. All writing was deeply personal for them - Sylvaa were telepaths (communicating with other lifeforms by intermingling roots), and so the chance to create something that truly existed in isolation from their brethren was deeply important to them.

As lovely as this all was, it didn't last.

The Fall

Ten thousand years before the start of the most popular calendar on Loom, there was an event known as the Fall of the Archlords. Orias and the five other creator deities split across lines that most mortals don't understand, descending into civil war. Loom was their theatre of battle, and the planet was ravaged. Many of the battlefields still remain visibly damaged today, with civilizations living in a celestial body's scars.

At the end of this war, drastic measures were taken that would ensure no side was a true victor. Ianap, the star at the center of Loom's solar system, was destroyed.

Continents were ripped from Loom's surface in the shockwave. The seas boiled off into steam, and the atmosphere was destroyed - even today it exists only as a weak blanket, scarcely able to produce rain without magical prompting. And, though the creations of all the other Archlords had left petty Loom for extraterrestrial pursuits, the faithful Sylvaa had remained. And so they were all destroyed.

Orias, weeping, reunited with her other Archlords to forge a new sun. They then all departed Loom, bitter and resentful of one another. Orias created a whole demiplane simply to find isolation. It was a perfect mirror of the planet, but entirely devoid of other life - as though it were an empty house, and only she had the keys to it.

Orias, as she is usually depicted after her mourning. (Daniel Kamarudin)

She stayed in this other place for a long time, mourning. And eventually, though it took her thousands of years, she left it. She had made her peace with her lost people, and the land of this demiplane had begun to bloom again as Orias's emotional state recovered.

And that was when the Fey entered.

Redeemed

Fey are spirits, denizens of the Astral Plane born from the experiences of sapient mortals. Like many spirits, they feed on magic and emotion - which were both in abundance within Orias's private demiplane. Once she left, they infiltrated the plane and began to glut themselves, growing fattened and powerful.

However, they were eventually discovered. Orias used her demiplane as a shelter for wounded innocents during the War of Ichor, and that was when she discovered the spirits. She was furious, and ready to destroy them - kind as she was, she was no longer tolerant of anything remotely close to betrayal. However, four quick-witted individuals struck a bargain with her: they would attend to the wounded she had brought in, and the rest of the demiplane, caring for them both. They would do this for the rest of time, becoming stewards of this place that was paradise to them.

Orias, having missed calling herself the mother of a people for a long time, accepted. She named the spirits fey, "redeemed" in Sylvan. She named the plane the Feywild, and changed her long-defunct title to the Archfey.

However, it was not the fate of the Sylvaa to be remembered only as the creators of a language. Their graveyards are not just the resting places of the dead - they are cradles for new generations.

Regrowth

Eventually, the Sylvaa reappeared on Loom. In its 14th century after the War of Ichor, the planet was invaded by a hostile alien force. These were the Yugoloths, hailing from a planet or two over. This event was called the Shattering, but it isn't the point of this paragraph. What is relevant is what they brought over.

Unbeknownst to Orias, a small amount of her original progeny had developed incredibly powerful teleportation magic. The Sylvaa were the original builders of Loom's massive teleporter pads, but some had grander aspirations than just that. These nine Sylvaa wanted to travel to the sun itself, so that they might worship it directly (they were also working on a way to not be burnt to a crisp in this process).

One of their test-runs, to push the limits of how far they could travel, was to Yugo. They all went together, and upon arrival they all perished. Yugo's atmosphere is toxic to most of Loom's inhabitants, and Sylvaa were no exception. Their seeds were buried in foreign soil, an environment that could never host them.

Marco Nelor

Around ten thousand years passed. The seeds of these nine burrowed into Yugo's earth, right into deposits of iron. They were eventually discovered by prehistoric Yugoloths, who cherished them as curious relics. Ose, their adoptive god and another Archlord, saw the seeds for what they were. He was exiled from Loom, and so could not return them himself - but from this point forward he nudged them closer and closer to space travel, so that they might eventually visit Loom and return the seeds.

His efforts were successful, but the visit from Yugo was hardly peaceful. A story for another time. The point, again, is that these nine seeds, able to be nourished by sunlight from Loom's new central star, Vant, jump-started Sylvaa society. They had been reborn into a curious new world, and they found they had much work to do.

Sylvaa Stats

If you want to play a Sylvaa, here are the stats I would recommend. They're tuned for 5E, but if you use another system hopefully this provides a decent-enough framework. Roleplay-wise, Sylvaa are known for their great literature, sun worship, and general confusion at much of modern society. They primarily speak Sylvan.

Ability Score Increase. Your Wisdom increases by 2, and your Constitution increases by 1.
Empath Network. You may communicate telepathically with any creature or plant within 30' of you that is touching the ground, by way of your root network. You do not need to share a language with a creature to be able to communicate with it this way, but it must be able to speak at least one language. You may communicate with plants in this way regardless of their ability to speak.
Photosynthesis. You may gain the benefits of a long rest by entering a dreamlike state while immersed in sunlight for 4 hours. During this time, you are considered to be asleep, and are not aware of your surroundings. After 4 hours have passed, you gain the benefits of a long rest and become fully nourished for the next 24 hours. You may still eat and sleep normally, and will need to do so when you lack access to direct sunlight.
Natural Spellcasting. At 1st level, you may cast Dancing Lights. At 3rd level, you may cast Entangle once per long rest. At 5th level, you may cast Daylight once per long rest. You use your Wisdom score for the purposes of casting these spells.

(I should note these stats are almost wholly borrowed from the Sprouting Chaos Player's Companion by BoltNine Homebrew. People on Loom have played Sylvaa before and I wanted to keep the statblocks consistent-ish.)

The Deck of Circular Motion

This is the deck of cards some characters begin the game with. It is used for games of chance and spiritual readings (which can determine a person's past, present, and destiny). It is known as the Deck of Circular Motion and was popularized shortly after the Lightclaiming. The Keepers of the Sun used it to cast portents on the future of their fledgling nation. And when the Celestial Wars broke out, countless soldiers used them as a source of entertainment. They inspire self-reflection and damnation of forces beyond their control in those that use them for either purpose.

They are sponsored by the Thirteen, first and foremost. Games played and fortunes told with them are filtered through their context and influence. They do not have anything against nonbelievers, but all the same those qualities render them less susceptible to interpretation by the Deck.

Although the Deck of Circular Motion only appears in historical records after the Lightclaiming, it has always been on Loom. It is a fact of life there, much the same as gravity and the ability of prayer to bring the rains. Few ever ask where it really came from - when was the last time you pondered as to how the Earth began to rotate?


NUMBER CARDS

The number cards (and also the face cards) are not numbers. They are archetypes, unchanging facets of the stories which sustain all gods.

2: Lover. The Lover is energy, fulfillment, sustenance. It is the lowest of the cards, representing its close ties to mortal life. At its best, it is stability and happiness. At its worst, gluttony and obsession.
3: Creator. The Creator represents self-image, as it is shaped by the outside world. Its positive aspects are opportunity and epiphany. Its negative aspects are vanity and unintended harm.
4: Seeker. The Seeker is known as our mortal faults, the space upon which we have to improve. It represents experience and forward motion, but also self-neglect and stubbornness.
5: Destroyer. The Destroyer is most concerned with the inner world, and knowing one's own nature, even at the price of forsaking the outside world. It can aid in recognizing danger (specifically the "in over your head" type) and in being humble, but might also create an unhealthy fear in the self or in others - specifically, but not always, of the unknown.
6: Ruler. The Ruler seeks to establish cooperation between people and the environment. It brings the boons of vigilance and widespread peace, but at the potential costs of mental duress and unhealthy competition.
7: Warrior. The Warrior symbolizes purpose. A Warrior might mean success or courage, but it could also bear the banner of insecurity and cruelty.
8: Magician. The Magician is the herald of change, and is recognized as one of the most powerful cards for this reason (it often has special effects in stacking games, for example). It could bring with it agency, or perhaps guilt. It is also a general stand-in for change, as vague as that is.
9: Innocent. The Innocent is comfort. It provides sure-footedness and a knowledge of boundaries when invoked, but can also inflict foolhardiness or repetition.
10: Sage. The Sage is defined the eternal search for truth. It helps in the departments of awareness and clarity, but plants the seeds for doubt and paranoia.
Jack: Caregiver. The Caregiver recognizes itself as indicative of servitude. It is closely associated with likability and compassion, and is weak in the areas of righteousness and preservation.
Queen: Fool. The Fool is expressed in drinking deep, eating well, and the pursuit of pleasure. It is unaffected by impending danger, and wields the strength of emotional knowledge. It is hurt worst by understimulation and being faced with the future.
King: Orphan. We see the Orphan as good fortune. It has the most sway in hours of judgement and desperation, but cannot aid much in the everyday occurrences of social interaction and physical labor.
Ace: Conductor. The Conductor symbolizes the game itself, and the inherent paradoxes that construct it. It is both spiritual guidance and sinful entertainment. It is the lowest of the cards, and yet trumps them all. It was the one that created the game, and yet it does not exist outside its context. Seeing it in a reading is a rarity, and a sign that someone is extremely spiritually unwell. And yet it is the kingmaker in countless games of cards.

Alonzo Fenix

SUITES

The suites are numbers. Specifically, they are the Divine Numbers - those considered holy through their connection to various pantheons present in the canon of the Thirteen.

These numbers are:
Five. This is the number of the Undead Guardians, once-mortals risen to give those faithful to them an afterlife to look forward to. In a traditional playing card deck, it would fill the space of the Hearts suite. In the context of the four elements, it is most closely associated with Earth.
Six. This is the number of the Archlords, the old gods who ruled Loom long before the arrival of the Thirteen. It fills the space of Diamonds, and its associated element is Fire.
Seven. The number of the Titans, who once opposed the Thirteen but at the same time galvanized support for them. It fills the space of Clubs, and its associated element is Water.
Thirteen. The number of the core pantheon, the saviors of Loom, and the House in the broader cosmic context of playing cards. It is, of course, Spades, and for its proximity to the heavens it is associated with air.


RULES CARD

The Rules Card exists, and does what it sounds like. One side contains the rules for spiritual readings, and the other the rules for playing cards. It depicts the Three Creators, ambiguous aspects of the universe itself that dictate morality.


WILDCARD

The Wildcard depicts a mouth, void of all things save a single white tooth. It represents a particularly unknowable deity within the mythos of Loom, the Singular Hunger. If it inexplicably appears off the top of the deck in a game of cards, it loses to everything else (despite outranking all of them). In a reading, it may invite itself as a harbinger of base needs, divine ascension, hilarity, gore, dung beetles, charity, and innortedity.

Mashuka Vampires

In 721 A.E.M., when the Sacellum of Rimhr was making first contact with the various peoples in the northern portion of the continent, one group in specific interested them. These were the Mashuka, a nomadic group descended from the escaped slaves of the Verdant Willow empire. Nomadic groups were relatively uncommon in this area, as the soil in most parts of the northeast was fantastic for growing and roaming too far north would quickly put people in contact with hostile groups of Alquari. Still, though, the Mashuka wandered - a combination of social stigma and religious beliefs forced them into the lifestyle.

The Mashuka were very valuable sources of information for early conquerors from the Sacellum. Specifically, they gave insights on many of the other ethnic groups and were one of the few sources of intelligence on Alquari activities - part of their harvest ritual included foraging in the territory of the druids. During various interviews on this subject, there was a recurring word of advice:

leave the pumpkins in the northern forests undisturbed.

Yayoi Kusama

Part of the aforementioned stigma placed on the Mashuka were that they were carriers of vampirism, a disease caused by spiritual parasites infiltrating the bloodline. While this was rooted in truth, the bloodlines that did carry the disease split off from nomadic Mashuka groups very quickly. One of the locations that these fully-fledged vampires split off into was a particular section of the forest, where pumpkins grew. In time, the disease that caused vampirism adapted, infecting the seemingly-innocuous gourds.

Normally, this would be no problem. Vampirism usually can't progress past the dietary restrictions and aversion to sunlight without the use of magic that changes the form*. But pumpkins, for reasons beyond the world's best-versed scholars, are capable of magic. Whether this is an odd phenomenon present only within them, a worrying talent present in all plants, or the result of some outside force's tinkering is unknown.

( * - vampirism is a disease caused by spirits colonizing an organism. As such, at first it can only grant the adverse effects of being a vampire. However, all spirits feed on magic. Vampiric spirits have a taste specifically for transmutation magic that modifies the body. If one with vampirism feeds their disease enough, they will begin to reap the benefits of it.)

On full moons, or other occasions when the lines between the Material and Astral Planes were thin, natural magic lying dormant deep within the hearts of these pumpkins would begin to stir. Eventually, with additional urging from the spirits within them, they would begin to spellcast.

They would grow spindly limbs of wood, and red eyes would blink open inside their orange shells. Inexplicably, they would gain the ability to talk, and carve out faces upon themselves for which to see and speak with their sharp fingers.

And such were born the Willkhu - Mahsuka Vampires.

http://breebird33.tumblr.com/post/101376826957/happy-halloween-everybody

Statblock

If you need a refresher on how I do these, here you go.

Pumpkin Vampire

HD 3 Size Medium AC As Leather Speed As Wood Elf

Darkvision 60 ft. Dexterity 14

Claws: Dodge 14, 1d8 + Grapple

Jack-o'-Lantern - Dealing fire damage to a Pumpkin Vampire will cause its head to ignite (as a torch). This allows it to cast fire bolt once per turn as a bonus action. 

Vampirism - A Pumpkin Vampire may bite a target that is willing, grappled, or incapacitated as an action. This deals 2d4 necrotic damage and heals the Pumpkin Vampire for as much health. Then, the target must make a Charisma saving throw, DC 15. Those who fail are infected with Vampirism (drains one Charisma every ten minutes until you hit zero) for an hour. At the end of the hour, target makes the save again. If they fail, it becomes permanent, turning them into a Vampire Spawn (for PCs, this means they lose control of their character).

The Shadowfell's God

Shadows

The Shadowfell was born in the time of the Archlords. It began as little more than a corner of the Astral Plane, where dreams give rise to life. Alenta, the most human of the Archlords, claimed this corner of it for himself. He would use it to enjoy his privilege as a creator god, and to deny its use from his fellows. Most of them would use it for nothing but ill.

...but he found that he could not use it. Alenta was by far the least interested in this pantheon with the business of creation, but here when he put an effort forth nothing happened. The plane writhed, contorted to avoid his attempts to create a mental progeny. It rejected him, and stayed barren. Frustrated, Alenta warded the place off from the other Archlords and abandoned it for more hopeful pursuits.

When he left it unchecked, it began to fester.

Alenta's folly was that he attempted to create life through magic. He tried a physical creation of life - to craft flesh and bone into a recognizable form. The Astral Plane does not play by such rules. It is the kingdom of dreams. The tangible has no power there. But still, residue from his efforts eventually manifested as a race known as Shadar'kai.

Another side effect of Alenta's attempts at creation were a distortion of this section of the Astral Plane's metaphysical methods. The will of an Archlord is not so easily resisted, and the plane had to change itself to overcome Alenta's primal magic. So, this section of the plane broke itself off. Going even further, it took on a niche. It would not create life from just any dreams. Exposure to Alenta's blackened machinations meant it would only accept nightmares as fuel for creation.

Millennium passed. Mortal night terrors birthed a menagerie of horrors within the Shadowfell, and where they could Shadar'kai built up their civilizations. This relationship was... unsustainable. Eventually the Shadar'kai learned of their origin, and called upon their creator god. Alenta, surprised that the territory he'd neglected had grown fruit, discovered the beasts on the plane and quickly plunged it into a civil war.

Blows were exchanged. The Shadar'kai, reunited with their god, fought against the rest of their world. Legions were slaughtered and rebuilt in days on both sides. The stalemate calcified, until the civil war was nothing more than worthless bodies being thrown at each other.

This is when the Egg hatched.

Madness

The Shadowfell has a habit of recreating locations on the Material Plane imperfectly. One such location was the Divine Womb, the birthplace of Loom's gods. The mechanics of that place are outside of the scope of this post, but thankfully the Shadowfell's distorted mirror of it function in very simple terms.

Instead of a Womb, the Shadowfell had a Divine Egg. A singular, massive embryo, holding an incubating god. Whereas Loom's gods were born from mortal hope, the Shadowfell would only release its god when the plane was completely hopeless.

Divine Wombs will give birth to a Lastborn God at the end of their planet's lifespan, but the Shadowfell contained only a Firstborn God. As opposed to being the synthesis of its planet's history, the Firstborn God would exemplify everything the Shadowfell isn't. And it would bear the visage of its greatest criminal.

The Shadowfell was a place of madness and shadows. Alenta had rendered it such when he tampered with forces he didn't understand, and then returned only to plunge it into hopeless war. And so the Divine Egg finally cracked open, giving birth to his only son: Alentyan, the god of Light and Wisdom.

Peter Mohrbacher

After this event, Alenta's interest in the civil war dwindled. He departed the Shadowfell in disgrace, and his people followed suit. They went to Vessel, one of Loom's three moons.

Alentyan left as soon as he was born. He had no purpose here. Its denizens cared not for either of his disciplines. The Material Plane was much more accommodating, and that is where he resided for thousands of years. He was a sage for those who sought him out, bringing illumination to those he deemed worthy. He lacked interest in the position of "god," but when a council of others like him sought to care for the planet in its darkest hour he found no good reason to exclude himself, and took his place among the Thirteen.

The Shadowfell stayed as it had been after Alenta left. A small group of belligerent Shadar'kai remained to continue fighting against the beasts they could take on. It produced the finest monster hunters in the planescape for generations to come. 

Dreams cannot be tamed, even by the divine. Light and wisdom will always flee from a place of shadows and madness.

The Sacellum's Heirarchy

After the Age of Eight Plagues, the Sacellum of Rimhrheld found itself forced into splitting its territories into two. The southern territories remained as they had been, holding onto the structure of the old church while moving into a more political, less religious age. The north, meanwhile, gained its own Pope, and was allowed to be (officially) referred to as Meltiras (its traditional, "true" name) for the first time since it was claimed.

The Sacellum of Rimhrheld

The Sacellum is in control of the southern portion of the continent. They do not preach - they worship. Four times a day, citizens are required to face towards the altar at the city's center and bow. They hold this position for ten seconds, before returning to their daily tasks. Altars are usually accompanied by a belltower to signal these times of day - an hour after sunrise, during lunch, an hour before dinner, and at sunset.

It is considered more pious to travel to the altar to worship, to light incense or candles (depending on region - candles are more common closer to the coast), and/or to perform certain rituals. These are, again, prone to regional variation, but one constant is the consumption of a grain alcohol mixed with spices known as Flaxin. For this reason, larger cities will have multiple altars, and many merchants make their livelihoods selling incense, candles, or Flaxin.

The southern Pope is usually just referred the Father (maekrix in draconic) and is descended from the bloodline of primal dragonborn, who were first blessed with holy fire by Rimhr. Maekrix is actually just a title to refer to the "father of a city," which is about equivalent to a Catholic bishop. Other maekrix will always be referred to by name, so if someone just says "The Maekrix" you know they're talking about the Pope (that word being more of a layman's term).

Technically, all maekrix are equal. In their letters, they even call the Pope athear maesinti - "holy brother" - same as all the others. But the Pope holds the power that he does thanks to his noble bloodline and his position in the Sacellum's capital, Ner Kangix.

The onureth (singular onur) are the individual communities of the faithful. They're led by the edars. Parishes and priests, essentially. But where they differ is in the jobs they perform. The Sacellum doesn't have masses. Edars perform rituals - both the calendrical ones and those which are more spontaneous, like funerals and weddings.

Those important enough within the church are given a sjach, or "shadow." They act as assistants and understudies, ready to claim the position if it winds up vacant. You would think this makes assassinations common, but with spells like speak with dead available it ensures that only the best of that bunch can kill their way to salvation.

Saints are also a thing - people who earn the privileges of a religious leader through deeds rather than hoop-jumping. They have been scarce since the days of the Plague of No Tombs, so most of them are dead. The church occasionally resurrects the ones who were potent warriors or spellcasters, but most do more work in the annals of history than they do on the ground.

There's other ranks, too, but those can come later if necessary. This is a solid groundwork for right now.

The Church Over Meltiras

The distinction between the Church and the Sacellum is clear, right down to their names. The Sacellum is all about worship - that which is holy is already known and established. You needn't become educated on it, because it's common knowledge.

The Church is different. They believe that everything should be incorporated into the church. This includes many of the pagan rituals of the local people, which have contorted to fit the constraints of the Sacellum's overseers. Under better circumstances, the rituals probably would have been squashed underfoot. But Meltiras was being settled at the same time it was being fought for, and so there was little time for inward pacification of native cultures.

One very popular tradition surviving from pre-colonial times is icon painting. This is always done on wood fresh from the trees, using paint with a manufacturing method predating the Sacellum. These are used to honor the deeds of locals, and delivered to the edar at the neighborhood altar. It's a religious honorific and a way of distributing news to the populous. The people bring in the local events, and at church every Rimhrset the edars inform their onureth what has gone on in the days hence.

The north also lacks maekrix or saints. A council of the local edars will vote on issues that pertain to a whole city, instead of leaving it up to just one person. There is still a northern Pope, and the church's Zealots fill a similar role to saints.

The Pope resides in Baryinnah, where she can have the aid of prophecy whenever necessary. She is unrivaled in her power. Meltiras's first pope was selected in 1001 A.E.M. - her name is Liberty Vii'shalor, and her relationship with the Church (not to mention the Sacellum) is outside the scale of this post. All you need to know is that she is not directly responsible for the differences between the Church and the Sacellum, but she did shirk her duty in shrinking the gap between them.

Zealots are awarded their title when their onur votes upon the greatness of their deeds - which are usually less pious than a saint's. Their miracles are bloody. If they win the support of six onureth, they are brought to Baryinnah and anointed in holy oils by the Pope. They are then awarded four servants to enable even greater deeds of holy fury.

A Zealot's Grip is both their spouse and their battlefield companion. They are sent to the affairs beneath the Zealot themself, and accompany them into larger conflicts. On the battlefield they also have the support of their Skull, a Church-sponsored tactician and general.

They also have a Throat, who handles their bureaucratic affairs. Finally, a Zealot's Faith is an edar who enforces their will and holds services specific to the follows of a certain Zealot.

A newly-chosen Zealot is allowed to recommend specific people for any of these positions, with that party's consent. Failing that, the Pope will pick the brightest of their sjachs for the job.

The Age of Eight Plagues, Part Two

Part one here.

The Plague of Drowned Dead

The year is 831, and the Plague of Vermin has almost been defeated. When their waves come, they are pitiful compared to the former deluges of pestilence that came in earlier years. The Sacellum's paladins see less and less work digging rat-proof trenches, and things seem to return to normal.

And then, people began bursting into flame.

While certainly the quickest of the plagues to take a life, Drowned Dead was toward the lower end of the bell-curve in terms of lives taken. It was another airborne disease, meaning most everyone on Starfyk had it. But the exact mechanisms that caused the infected to spontaneously combust were never discovered - it was seemingly entirely random.

Even the dead would ignite on occasion, leading to the Sacellum declaring burials at sea to be mandatory. This upset a great deal of the populous, particularly the few bugbear citizens - for whom burial at sea was a religious requirement that had been outlawed since their assimilation. Social unrest was the name of Drowned Dead's game, and while their Plague was not the most damaging in the long term - that distinction would be reserved for the Plague of No Tombs - they did pave the way for much of the success of future Plagues.

Drowned Dead was, as had become routine at this point, hunted down and killed in 842 A.E.M. This also marked when the Sacellum came into possession of the city of Baryinnah, complete with its own oracle. Though it would fall and be reclaimed several times over the span of the next few Plagues, its capture was a symbol of the Sacellum's near-domination over all of Starfyk.

The Second Plague of Vermin

God dammit.

We already know the details of how exactly a Plague of Vermin operates. This was just another instance of it, lasting from 855 to 871 A.E.M. (the Sacellum had gotten good at fighting it in the years past). What's more interesting is how exactly Vermin, the very same who had conducted the first Plague with her name, lasted this long.

If you remember, the Plague of Vermin was a sickness of the blood. This means that any animal whose blood mingled with a Vermin-bearing creature would contract it - including when they ate a patient.

Surely, not all the squirrels in the forest were slain by fire and blade. Some were eaten by the coyotes, as any other. And those coyotes fell ill with Vermin, too.

Vermin invented not just a Plague, but a method of reaching immortality. Her sentience stretched thin between a myriad of beasts, like a spiderweb. She still lurks there, in the forest. It will never be rid of her. Her blood has soaked into the soil there, and on quiet nights when the wind rustles through the trees, their leaves whisper her name.

The Plague of No Tombs

With Vermin driven back for a second time and a twenty-one year period (the longest pause between any of the Plagues) of good health after it, the Sacellum began to think the feverish night was done. Baryinnah stood tall, a beacon of the Sacellum's victory over the Alquari. Hushed at first, the whispers that the Age of Plagues had ended grew confident. There was a whole generation of children entering university that had not seen a Plague in their lifetime. Hopes were high for the future.

And in 892, they were ripped asunder.

The Plague of No Tombs was a zombie apocalypse, plain and simple. The dead did not stay buried. The whole continent was plunged into a vile period lasting over a century. No Tombs themself was never discovered - they were just one more shambling husk among the millions. Bodily fluids spread the Plague, drowning whole towns in undead bile until they were naught but an army of things that would be better off in the sepulchers.

This Plague left a huge impact on the culture of Starfyk as a whole. In the north, the tradition of canonizing great war heroes as Zealots (largely in the place of traditional saints) began. The Sacellum pioneered the Turn Undead spell as a means of crowd control. And in 988, there was a proper secession.

In that year, the patriarch of the Vath family found a way to merge the soul of an ancient Giantine Emperor with his own. This was unprecedented, and challenged the divine monopoly the Sacellum had on the continent. Seeking to rekindle his lost people, the man (if he could be called that) now known as Llipyah Vath staged a revolution.

In the already weakened state of the Sacellum, they had few free hands to contest this revolt. And so the Tenth Empire was born. They were an uneasy ally during the later days of the Plague of No Tombs - giants proved incorruptible by the disease, seeing as they were made mainly of earth and spirit.

After countless losses, the Plague was finally brought to sustainable levels in 1001 A.E.M. Baryinnah had been cleared of undead, and it was the new center of the Sacellum's power in the north. With seven Plagues behind them, the Sacellum's territories in the south and the north had come to hate each other, and separating them had become the only sustainable choice for the future.

The Plague of Black Blood

This was the last of the Plagues. It was the shortest, both in terms of turnover between the previous Plague and lifespan. It lasted from 1003 A.E.M. - a mere two years after the end of No Tombs - until 1008.

The Alquari were just as devastated by No Tombs as the rest of the continent, and a power vacuum formed among them that failed to stay full for long during the previous century. They were fighting on two fronts - the reckless Plague unleashed by a desperate High Druid and amongst themselves. Black Blood was more of a warrior than a proper druidic mage, and he was the one who ended No Tombs for them. He found himself thrust into the position of High Druid, and one who sorely needed to produce a successful Plague.

Pulling heavily from No Tombs, Black Blood also produced a blood-based disease. It thickened the blood, congealing it into a useless black sludge. It was similar to what the Sacellum had seen before, and so they were prepared to treat it once it came along. It was even somewhat of a relief compared to what they had seen in the past two centuries. Just more shivering civilians in dusty, hastily-built hospitals.

Black Blood's throat was ripped out by one of Aurdao Vihn's wardogs. With him died the Age of Plagues. These were the blackest days of the continent, bringing a surging tide of ruination upon all who walked it. The Alquari were a scattered mess, reeling from blow after blow, the most of them being self-inflicted. The Sacellum was chained in debt to its foreign sponsors, hastily carving up what little of the frontier remained to try to pay back a backbreaking price. Baryinnah still flew their banners, yes. But to the west they had a new enemy in the Tenth Empire, and their northern colonies were barely recognizable as worshipping Rimhr.

The blackest days were done, yes. But the future was not looking white, only a dour shade of gray.

The Age of Eight Plagues, Part One

I'm trying to flesh out the history of Starfyk, one of my continents. My next campaign takes place on it, and so it seems prudent to know what would have happened in the last 500 years of its history (I already have its immediately-after-God-and-Titan-War stuff down). A big part of the continent is the huge area controlled by mainly anti-civilization druids (known as Alquari) to its north, and they're going to be prominent in the upcoming campaign, too. So I figured I'd start this exploration with them.

I'd been writing this for like two weeks when I decided to just break it into parts. Eight is a lot. This is the first half of them. The next will skip the introductions and just go into the last four.

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In 717 A.E.M., the Sacellum of Rimhr set its sights on the northern portion of Starfyk. They had unchallenged control of the southern half of the continent, with most folks being happy to join the people who had toppled the most powerful of the Giant Empires. Though the two other empires in the north had long since fallen, there were still numerous setbacks in trying to obtain those lands. The biggest of these were the Alquari.

They have no name for themselves. The name we use - that the locals first spoke when communicating with the Sacellum - means "dog people" in Giant. They are the escaped slaves of a former empire, who allied themselves with the wyverns so that they might topple all those who would enslave them. For some, this grew into a hatred for all civilization.

The smallest town is an abomination under their eyes. The forest is the true home of men. To break its bones and refurbish them into obscene symmetry is the highest crime. When all races live like beasts, reveling in the base, carnal pleasures - that is when they will be truly happy.

Not all the Alquari think like this. Some are content to live peacefully in the northern woods, coexisting with the outside world. But the Sacellum see them all as the same, and so they are all put to the sword. They torched their woods and broke their bodies.

So, in response, the Alquari sought the High Druid. They begged her to bend the will of the forest and called for retaliation against the invaders.

The High Druid broke their necks for daring to speak in front of her. And then, she set about to concocting a plague.

For the purposes of this post, all plagues come from the High Druids of the Alquari. They manufacture their plagues, using their own bodies as breeding grounds for all manner of vile disease. Travel to distant lands is no trouble for them (for it is said that every forest leads to another), and so they may capture distant infections within themselves and bring them back to lands where they are foreign and vicious.

Most of the High Druids do not have names. It is against their way - names are a product of civilization, and they have long-since abandoned all that is birthed from that putrid womb. So, in the Sacellum's official historical records, the name of a High Druid and the name of their Plague is the same.

The Plague of Flayed Skin

When the first of the plagues came, it was like nothing the Sacellum had ever seen. Most people were happy to join them, and those that weren't could be easily beaten into submission or destroyed, if necessary. But a disease is an enemy that cannot be fought with spears and torches.

It ravaged settlers and their livestock alike. Clerics from the capital sent to treat it found themselves quickly consumed. Refugees brought the plague to the southern cities, creating an air of intolerance for outsiders that would last a millennium. This was intentional on the part of the archdruid who went on to be called Flayed Skin - her purpose when crafting it was to divide the conquerors. To create a whole new social class: lepers.

Speaking of, this was when Rimhrheld's odd prejudice against armadillos started. The little critters carry leprosy very well, but can live just fine without it. They brought in a second wave of the disease just when the Sacellum was getting good at eradicating it, extending the duration of the plague until 741 A.E.M. This was especially unfortunate for the Armadillo Knights of northwestern Starfyk, who lost much prestige and a beloved mascot to the Plague.

The Pangolin Knights rose after the power vacuum formed, but their mascots just weren't as cute as the old guard.

The Plague of Fallow Fields

Flayed Skin was killed in 738 A.E.M., and her plague was arduously destroyed over the span of the next few years. While the forces of civilization struggled with that endeavor, the druids were busy crowning a new archdruid. The Alquari that was eventually selected came to be known as Fallow Fields, and his patience was only outmatched by his malice.

Why kill the Sacellum, when you can just kill their food?

More of a blight than a plague, Fallow Fields did exactly what the name sounded like. It was never spread as wide as Flayed Skin, but it did its job in creating a dependency on food imports in the north. Again, creating a schism between north and south that would drive a wedge into the continent's two halves.

Twelve years and millions of gold later, and the Sacellum's appointed alchemists concocted a pesticide that would kill the bacteria behind the blight. Fallow Fields himself was killed early into the Plague's lifespan, in 745 A.E.M., but the longevity of it even after its death points to his ultimate success.

The Plague of Shingle-Eyes

There was an almost ten year gap between this Plague and the last, due to infighting among the militant factions of the Alquari as they searched for a new archdruid. Medical staff in the Sacellum's colonies had been increased after the last two plagues, and they fervently watched all who got sick, waiting for the next Plague to rear its head. But both factions didn't realize that a new plague had already begun. When Shingle-Eyes announced to his fellows that a tenth of the settler population had already contracted his Plague, they bent the knee to their newfound archdruid.

Shingle-Eyes is a slow-acting plague. It is said that it first appeared in its earliest stages before Fallow Fields had even been defeated, but the effects are slow-acting that it took until 762 for it to even claim a life.

Shingle-Eyes is an airborne disease that only worsens with the loss of sleep. The result is the growth of more eyes. Many, many eyes, coating the body like shingles (hence the name). The more eyes you have, the harder it is to close them all, the less sleep you get, the more eyes you grow. Eventually, the victims are bedridden, but unable to sleep, and eventually die when enough eyes grow in their throat to block off the windpipe.

As you can imagine, it isn't pretty. Image Source: Bloodborne

Eventually, with help from humiliating curfew laws strictly established in the northern settlements, Shingle-Eyes was defeated in 770. His death stopped the production of more of his Plague - it had spored from him, like a smokestack polluting the atmosphere. The curfew laws continued for several decades afterward, leading to much tension between settlers and law enforcement.

The Plague of Vermin

Though this plague is by far the one with the least casualties (official records state only thirteen died directly from it), it was the most damaging. It was a war not against the people of the Sacellum, but its infrastructure.

Vermin was the next archdruid after Shingle-Eyes, and hers was a blood-born disease. It was essentially a mass dominate spell spread through Vermin's own blood. Rats would come from miles around to drink of her, then birth whole generations of pups who would never have minds of their own. Vermin's sentience superseded theirs.

And in the summer of 774, every single pest in the forest came out to wreak havoc on the cities.

Wooden support beams surrounded by three layers of squirrels, chewing at them until their gums bled, knocking it down in the span of an hour. Moles tunneled under the Sacellum's shrines to collapse them during the next festival held in it. Crows shitting all over statues of Aurdao Vihn, the war hero who had killed the previous three archdruids.

It was also an especially difficult plague to quash. Vermin lived on through her progeny, her feral sentience having no problem existing in the tiny minds of her namesake.

Whole cities were declared fallen to Vermin and burned. The Sacellum would pay a silver piece per dead rat brought in to them, almost driving them to bankruptcy in a mere month. Their victory over it was the most pyrrhic the Sacellum had ever known - and it was impossible to tell if more pestilence would come spilling out of the forest. But finally, in 833, they stopped coming.

However, by that point, another Plague had already started.