It's market day, so you simply follow the flow of traffic toward the keep. You pass through the upper-crust neighborhoods on the waterfront, cross the bridge over the Oxbane river, step under the arch of the gate set into the immense stone walls, and behold the interior of the bailey.
There is an ornate building to your left that appears to be a counting-house and a mangonel pressed up against the guardhouse to your right. Following the instructions given to you at the tavern, you traverse the cobbled streets, passing an alchemist’s shop and a small cottage with a fenced-in garden before arriving at your destination, a well-maintained shop with a wooden sign on the lintel marked Marquano’s Artisanal Glassworks, and a smaller sign in the window marked “OPEN”, a subtle indicator that anyone with the funds to shop here would likely be literate.
As you step into the glassblower’s shop, you note that the air is warm, dry and redolent of woodsmoke from the charcoal powering the bellows. You hear activity in the back and move toward it. As you stride past the shelves of glass knickknacks and piles of windowpanes that comprise Marquano’s ready merchandise, you hear a melodic female voice speaking in Jotun.
”Most people fear the mists, but in their soothing embrace I, at least, feel closer to my god.”
Jade smiles. "I couldn't agree more. Chaplain Baird always said clouds are the resplendent clothes Kassasi and Mulmano weave together to gird Ilara. The rain and mist are its threads and the dew its stitches."
Brother Darnö nods, surprised. "I didn't take you for the religious type, Firehair." Nonetheless, he smiles. "Kassassi and Mulmano are old gods, among the first emanations of zarach* when it brought the All into being."
*Empyrean word. Lit. "destiny", also "word, thought", comparable to Ma'at in Egyptian cosmology or the logos spermatikos or anima mundi in Stoic philosophy.
"The first gods to arise were beings of pure emanation. Lords and ladies of Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Strength, Life, Light, Shadow, Thought, Time, and Fate, they embodied primordial concepts of the universe that were before mortalkind was made. In the beginning our god Morghast was the deity of Fate, for death had not entered the world, and Weyron was the god of Thought, for the First War had not been waged. Zethiss was the god of Shadow, for there were no secrets at this time. And Rothar, first among them, was Strength, for there was no nobility in those days."
Brother Darnö nibbles at the cheese for a moment before continuing.
"Then it came to pass that a new god, Iodar, arose and introduced a new emanation of zarach, Emotion. The gods rejoiced, for now they had reason to take pride in their creation, and with Thought and Emotion, Strength and his wife, Light, created the first beings begotten of others: the titans. But the titans were too headstrong, and became too preoccupied with fighting and tests of strength to care for the world the gods created, so Rothar and Ilara gave birth to the First Ones to rectify their error."
The monk takes a bite of bread before resuming his tale.
"All was well at first, but with Emotion came jealousy, and Iodar desired Mulmano's wife, Silani. They dallied in secret, but Iodar sought her undivided attention, and she would not leave Mulmano. Gods could not be slain in those days, nor could anything else, for zarach did not allow it. So after an age of brewing schemes in his mind, Iodar went to the edge of Creation and found something evil from beyond the beyond. He allowed Zorgon, the Un-Thing, into the world, and with it Death and Destruction entered the universe. The world was split into three, Zoralon*, Faralon**, and Nuralon***, and from then on the unbegotten greater gods could not set foot on Zoralon. In this mass confusion, Iodar attempted to slay Mulmano as he took refuge in the Astral Sea, but was caught and killed by Rothar."
He wets his throat with a swig of water from the jug.
"Morghast knew then that it would be his fate to judge the dead, and found Iodar guilty of crimes against creation. Our god built a Pit of Bones, Shamshath, in the Dark World to imprison Iodar for his treachery for all time. But the Un-Thing, Zorgon, broke him from his prison and raised him as the first undead, a vampiric bug-thing that would slay Rothar by stealth and bring about so much pain. He has been the enemy of our god ever since."
Those of you intent on studying gather in the reading room so as to share anything of interest you might discover. The biographies peter out into legend after roughly three hundred years. Okoteck finds a reference to an elven mage that lists his father and grandfather, suggesting that elves at least have dwelt on Thalis for anywhere from ten to fifteen centuries. With all the historical and biographical details he's uncovered, Okoteck finds himself becoming a passable amateur genealogist and legal scholar, should those skills become useful.
In regards to the Röskarí, Jaym'row finds some legends regarding their genesis in an old book of older tales.
Old Tales wrote:
After the death of the god Rothar, the titans who served him were without a master. Some found their way to his hidden realm of Jotunheim to await their lord's return, while others were forced to brave the new world created by Marathris' folly to rebuild some semblance of civilization.
However, with the death of their creator, those on Zoralon began to degenerate, growing smaller and weaker with each generation. The erstwhile titans turned to a myriad of other powers, some elemental, some fey, and some of vile darkness, in order to arrest their decline. Success varied, creating everything from the majestic cloud giants to the degenerate ogres and trolls that plague the various hinterlands across the length and breadth of Zoralon.
The greatest king of the Röskarí, the semi-mythical Atgørvi, brought his people to Thalis in great longboats. Upon arrival, he swore an oath to the primal spirits of his adopted homeland, intending to bind his people to a new source of spiritual sustenance and prevent their disappearance. They had shrunk until they were barely taller than men. To prove his worthiness to his new patrons and forge a connection to their spiritual essence, he went on an epic quest to slay the fiery devil-wyrm Brunistunga who dwelled beneath the mountain of Jornbrindúr, whose writhings sorely vexed the great spirits. He did so, and his people were saved.
But from the spiteful dying words of Brunistunga, Atgørvi was struck with a curse that set his blood on fire without allowing him to die. His son Dvalinn went on a quest of his own: to find Jotunheim and bring back three silver rings that would lift the curse and allow his father to enter the afterlife. This Dvalinn did, and with the help of the elven magician and silversmith Abramelindras who journeyed with him on his quest, Dvalinn took the three silver rings and banded the severed horn of Brunistunga, creating a horn that, when blown, would call the einherjar from the Great Beyond to do battle.
Legend has it that Atgørvi and Dvalinn lived some eight centuries ago, but only the elves know for certain. History more than three centuries gone, including the disappearance of the elves behind their magical barrier, is wreathed in the obscuring mists of time. It is known, though, that the enchantment that renders Graenirvellir warmer than the rest of Thalis dates back as far as records go, and stories tell that the spell is the work of Ysdeliara, wife of Abramelindras and archdruidess of surpassing wisdom. According to legend, once Dvalinn's party were back in elven lands she planted a great tree from a seed found during their quest in Jotunheim, and not only do its boughs warm Graenirvellir but its branches offer a way into the land of the giants to those of courage enough to climb them.
Some time later, an old man, at least threescore years and ten and wearing a dark hooded robe, steps through the reading room door, followed by Brother Darnö. He shuffles silently to a chair, pulls it back, takes a seat, and steeples his fingers on the table, only then deigning to speak.
”I am Hødír, the abbot of this monastery,” he announces in a thin, reedy voice. ”Brother Darnö tells me you plan to lay the shade of Nortkirche Abbey to rest, and seek knowledge of the abbot who ran it all those years ago to aid you in this task.”
He leans back in the chair, which creaks at the shift in weight. ”I suppose it is best to start at the beginning. Do take care not to interrupt me; there will be time for questions when I am through.” He pauses, his mind rifling through old memories like pages of a book worn by time until they became almost too thin to touch.
”The abbot, Penga, was a man of surpassing intellect and drive, and possessed of… perhaps not faith, given what came after, but a certainty, and one that conquered all obstacles. He had even mastered the power of the resurrection.”
”He became abbot of Nortkirche at the unprecedented age of thirty two. This was some fifty-odd years ago, give or take, before Thegnheim seceded or the Deadlands were formed. He married Svantja, a warrior of surpassing purity and strength, and she gave birth to a son.”
“One day, a dark wizard named Scaíthr conjured a foul jackal-headed dæmon and warned the thegns that unless they made him king of all Graenirvellir he would release it to bring famine and death upon the land. Svantja and her brave companions slew the wizard and banished the dæmon, but not before the creature laid her low with a powerful blight.”
”When they brought Svantja to the abbey, all our prayers were for naught, for the dæmon’s curse was insidious.” As he says this, a twinge of unexpected emotion twists his features in grief and causes his throat to catch momentarily before he is able to continue.
Jade, Jaym'row, Syper:
In addition to grief, the abbot is struggling with feelings of guilt and shame here, and is clearly holding something back. You’ll keep this in mind when the time for questions comes around.
”At the end, it was only Penga and I, his most promising acolyte, alone with her in the small hours. She went peacefully, for our arts could at least give her that much.”
Suddenly and incongruously, he smiles. ”Thus only I and Penga saw what happened next.”
He leans forward in the chair, a bittersweet joy in his eyes at the memory. ”Her soul rose up, a newborn val’kyr gleaming with inner light. She stepped to the open window, smiled at us over her shoulder to let us know all was right, spread her wings, and flew to Heaven wreathed in glory.”
The joy fades from his eyes, shading into resignation. ”Penga howled and chased after her, and it was only my strong young arms that kept him from throwing himself out the window after his wife’s risen soul.” He glances down at his withered frame with a sardonic smile.
He regards each of you in turn. ”Much of what I am about to tell you is speculation based on his effects at the time of his death. Nevertheless, I believe it to be the truth, though I knew none of it and suspected little until the very, very end.”
”The abbot was broken that night, though he did not show it. His efforts to raise his wife from the dead were for naught, as she had been chosen by Morghast to shepherd the souls of other great warriors to their eternal reward. So he turned to darker powers.”
”Her soul was beyond him, but, by taking his knowledge of necromancy and turning it to ends that went against all of his training, he bound her spirit to her armor with a dark dweomer that kept her flesh from rotting, though she did not eat, breathe, drink, or sleep, and was as cold to the touch as her polished breastplate. Thought and memory returned, but not the feelings in her heart.”
”She resumed her duties as a shield maiden, but the deception could not fool her erstwhile companions, and after a few months they could no longer deny that the cruel being with whom they sojourned was a stranger in her flesh. When they shared their suspicions with me, I knew what had happened, though it would take more proof than strictly necessary before I could believe it in my heart.”
He continues, a touch of anger creeping into his voice as his tale takes another turn. ”When I confronted Penga, he was indignant, telling me that the gods had as much need of Svantja here on Zoralon as they did in the heavens above, and if what he had done was so wrong, they would have kept her from rising again.”
He grits his teeth and clenches a withered fist, then relaxes again.
”I argued with him, telling him that that thing was not Svantja and that if he had even a trace of love left in his heart for her he would destroy the creature wearing her flesh. He told me he was on the verge of ‘correcting his mistake’ and screamed at me to let him alone or be expelled from the abbey, and not to bother with telling the other monks for they knew of and agreed with his teachings.”
”That night, after compline, I squatted beside his door and peered through the keyhole, hoping to discover what he had meant. He had not been lying about his support, for four other monks stood vigil with him in his room that night. At midnight, I beheld them pull out a black leather grimoire, and I almost betrayed myself with a gasp, for it was the very book of black magic which the evil wizard Scaíthr had used to conjure the fiend that had slain Penga’s wife.”
The abbot shakes his head at the memory.
”I then watched them light candles of corpse tallow and draw a circle of salt on the floor, conjuring up a tiny red ball of flesh that was all teeth and eyes. Penga held congress with the beast for some time, and it promised to restore passion, warmth, and feeling to Svantja if the abbot would bring the creature with him on his rounds of the dying, so that the beast could float invisibly above them as they perished and feast on their souls as they passed to the next world.”
He shudders with revulsion at the thought.
”I went and told Svantja’s companions all I had seen, and they resolved to slay the abbot. I agreed, though reluctantly, for he had been my friend for long and long. We stormed into the nave right as they were about to begin terce. Svantja and her baby were in the front row, along with the four monks who had assisted in his dark magics the night before. Baldrin, the longest-serving of her companions, accused the abbot of heresy before the entire congregation and raised his holy symbol, sending a bolt of light from Creation’s Forge right at Svantja. Rather than bathe her in healing warmth, it burned her, and she growled and dropped her child to free up her sword hand.”
From the expression on Hødír’s face, this display of casual cruelty to a child by the thing that was once the boy’s own mother still haunts the man after all these years.
”I grabbed the boy and retreated from the room as the companions set upon the abbot and his fallen brethren. Those junior acolytes who deigned not to side with the abbot also fled.”
”The companions fought bravely, slaying the abbot, his disciples, and the thing that was Svantja. They buried the men in the graveyard, and they buried her at a crossroads to stifle the magic bound to her armor that would have caused her to rise once more at the next new moon.”
”But as to the abbey, it was no use. Penga had removed the consecration and invited dark powers into the sanctuary. Ninety-nine days after his death, his shade rose from the grave and began to plague the abbey, leaving Brother Fulrich dead on the floor one night after matins. All the most powerful monks had been turned to evil, so only acolytes such as myself remained. We abandoned the abbey and moved here. I became abbot, raised Penga’s son Hermas as my own, and watched him go off to war and became a knight under the thegn Kinnear, third-ranked man in the Jarl’s court. Then I grew old, as men are wont to do when left to their own devices.”
He chuckles. ”And here we are. Back in the present.”
He casts his gaze about, glancing at each party member in turn. ”If you’re wondering what happened to the grimoire, it is secret. It is safe. And that is all you need to know.”
If someone could find and make a google doc or something to keep track of plot threads, that would be great. I'll link it in the campaign page.
Currently, they are:
Major:
1. Uncover what happened to the virloga.
2. Destroy the shade in Nortkirche Abbey and collect its geistsäure in the bottle Irila provided.
2b. Acquire the bottled sunlight to weaken the shade so you might kill it. Travel to Oxbane Keep and locate a glassblower to fashion the lens so that Irila can charge the phosphor.
2c. Travel to the monastery in Wunirö and deliver the letter to Wurl inviting him to the Midsumar Games on 6-20. While there, interview the monastery's inhabitants to learn about the Nortkirche abbot who became the shade.
3. Uncover the location of Jade's father. Signs point to him having washed up on the coast north of Oxbane, near the borders of the Deadlands.
4. Uncover more information about the Amaruqi angakkuit, whether they are attempting to free the Great Dark Ocean Spirit and how far along they might have gotten in any such plan, and if there is a way to defeat them and any schemes they might be undertaking.
4b. Uncover more about the Great Dark Ocean Spirit in general, including evidence to convince House Dandolon not to send mining expeditions to the Frozen Wastes even if the tuunbaq and the Tuluruqi are defeated.
5. Uncover more about the elven lands in the interior, and if there is a way to breach the magical shield protecting it from intrusion.
Minor:
1. Travel to Oxbane and investigate the frœthleikr hus (magical academy) run by the hedge wizard Aldinngenga.
2. Check up on the crew and see how their efforts to build a new ship are going.
3. Clear the elementals out of the quarry for Othek.
4. Uncover the identity of the mage in Jurgen's Fist and how knowledge of the snappod distillate leaked. Was there a spy who made their way onto the crew?
Irila laughs understandingly. "None taken. I may be old, but I am no ogress."
She turns to Amka. "Rumor has it that the great-great-grandson of that wise nurse was the jarl's father, Vrykr." Amka nods, amazed.
As the lentil soup gets close to boiling over, an invisible hand picks it up off the flame and sends it floating over to the table, where a series of clay bowls and wooden spoons are lined up for the impending midday meal.
The wizened crone turns to face the party. ”So how goes your quest?” she inquires expectantly.
Syper shrugs. "What is a ghost, anyway? Do we all walk the Dark Places eventually? I suspect spirits merely take our faces, as they dare not look upon their own."
He continues, animated. "Judging from our looks and your concern, Nana, we've all seen things we wish not to have. But let's be honest, lately, we saw much the same in our waking moments, too. I, for one, am not going to let a vision force me to worry about a future or a past or another life or whatever it represents."
He sits back with a wry smirk and mutters, "Sometimes, you just need to be the center of attention, even if it's bad attention."
"You are a brave man indeed if you speak truly, spellsinger," the crone replies.
As the others describe their visions, and determine them to be identical, she grows quiet. After a moment of contemplation, she responds.
”It seems the spirits have decreed you a most difficult task.”
She casts her gaze to the northwest. ”The old abbey, the one the priests of Morghast abandoned some fifty years ago, is a sad tale. The abbot, distraught at the death of his wife, sought out dark powers whom Morghast had proscribed. He began to practice heresy, and eventually to preach it openly, until the huscarls were forced to slay him. Then his unclean spirit, tainted by the powers with which he had held such profane congress, returned to haunt the abbey. Now, on the fifth night of every week his shade emerges from the stones to preach blasphemy to an undying congregation that crawls from the sea to receive his unholy sermons.”
The crone seals the now-empty jar and rolls up the pentagram. She withdraws a small leaded glass vial with a cork from her apron.
”Your quest, if you choose to accept it, is to destroy the shadow and bring me some of its geistsäure ("ghost-acid", or ectoplasm) in this bottle. With it, I can perform another ritual by which you may importune the spirits for a boon. But this shadow is too powerful for you to confront directly, especially if, as seems likely, he is aware that the spirit world is sending champions to destroy him. You must weaken this unclean spirit, and I might have just the thing, if you can gather the materials I’d need to make it.”
She sits down in her chair before resuming.
”I can fashion you a bottle of liquid light that you can unleash on the spirit and debilitate him so that you might destroy him. But I will need a lens to focus the light and some phosphor to store it. The glass for the lens requires special flux made from volcanic borax, not something sold in stores, and the only people who might be able to blow it once you’ve found some would ply their trades in Oxbane Keep. The phosphor is likely underground in a seam somewhere, but I am not a miner or blacksmith, so I don’t know where best to find it in these parts. Perhaps Fargas or Othek would have such knowledge.”
Oops, should have read closer. Ignore the previous post's mention of Okoteck's sword
Okoteck's beak drills into the bear's side, accompanied by an explosion of flame. The bear growls and shakes its head in pain, trying to wave away the discomfort.
The crone nods an acknowledgment and regards the party with a steady gaze. ”It has been long years since I went on an adventure like yours. And I am too old and my powers too weak to do you much good. But I know a thing or two about the spirit realms, and about the elves, giants, and other creatures of might and magic who roam this island.”
She pushes her bowl into the center of the table and continues.
”Long ago, the elves lived among the peoples of this land, and many Röskarí have some degree of elven blood to this day. Elven magic brought a degree of warmth and light to these lands they have no business having, as well as protection from outlanders, and the Jotunblooded’s mighty thews guarded the elves against those threats magic could not defeat. The peculiar brightness of the aurora in these parts is a testament to that long-ago bargain.”
“But then one day, five hundred years or so ago, the elves retreated to their sanctuary in the mountain valleys of the far interior and cut off nearly all contact. True elves now only leave Alfheim on the most pressing business, and one is usually only seen in human lands once or twice per century. As to why they left? Perhaps they were concerned that men were becoming too well-versed in their magic; rumor had it that a mad mystic who fancied himself a hierophant of the dead god Rothar sought to build an order of mage-priests who would wield elf magic to contact the deceased god’s spirit, but whether anything came of that before the elves left is a mystery.”
The crone waves her hand, and her bowl of oatmeal floats into the washroom.
”While the elves were not they who sealed this dark spirit below the earth, they have great knowledge of the ley lines that crisscross this island and have no wish to see it freed. They might have useful knowledge regarding what manner of being this creature is and the nature of its prison.”
”When the elves retreated, they sealed their mountain redoubt against intrusion by outsiders. Though the spell has weakened over the centuries, it is still not trivial to pierce, requiring magic that few alive outside their realm possess. A group that does not include me.”
She chuckles mirthlessly.
”But as to magic I do know, and know well, the spirit realm has clearly called you for some design or other. Best to master it before it masters you.”
She turns to regard each of you with an appraising eye, then pulls out a jar of oil with an astringent odor.
”There is a bear of unusual size and ferocity who lives on an island a half-day’s row east of here. Hunters refuse to go near him, for he is spirit touched, a man-eater, and clever as a devil. Bring me his heart inside this jar, and I will use it to perform a ritual to strengthen your connection to the spirit world.”
Jaym'row's perusal of the night sky tells her they have likely traveled at least four hundred but less than six hundred miles from the shipwreck, which is mostly due south but slightly to the west.
During your time awaiting the crone, you meet Fargas, the village blacksmith. Uncle of Bronwen, and now too old to go on patrol, he whiles away his time in gossip and with his hobby of the last ten years, blacksmithing. You learn a great deal from him:
While Bronwen is called a chief, his true title is skutilsvein (knight, lit. “table-man”), and a senior military commander under the jarl, Björn, who rules from Oxbane Keep. The land is mostly peaceful, with only bandits and the occasional ogre or troll raid to vex the peasantry.
Bronwen earned his high rank during the last great war, some twenty years ago, when Grichord Darktongue convinced Hrym Bloodbeard to rebel against Björn’s father, Vrykr, sparking a conflict that saw the province of Thegnheim and its mountainside towns split away from coastal Graenirvellir.
Though the battles of yore were fierce, the children of Vrykr and Hrym have pursued trade and diplomacy over conflict, and the huscarls and landsknechts now joke that they have become as useless as teats on a bull.
Three days ride to the southwest is Wunirö, a town of about 500 built in the shadow of the monastery for which Wurl left. Four day’s ride to the north is Oxbane Keep, a town of roughly a thousand souls built on a strategic river crossing that saw many battles in days gone by but now is known for the incredibly hard steel it forges using coal mined from a nearby seam.
A week’s journey to the east of Oxbane is the town of Rytingr, capital of Thegnheim, and in the foothills of the mountains two days beyond is the dwarven town of Nauthir.
And ten or so days’ ride north of Oxbane Keep lie the reason for the end of the war. There lie the Deadlands. Years of brutal and bloody conflict soaked the ground with death and pain, leaving an eerie realm rotten with gateways to the Dark World. A cold and empty stretch of country where the corpses of the dead rise at the next nightfall to plague the world of the living, the Deadlands are avoided by all but the most desperate or the most depraved. Thankfully, though, most of its unrisen denizens cannot venture beyond the mystical borders of that benighted country, and those who can, choose not to for some inscrutable rationale.
Fiskurvellir itself is Bronwen’s summer home, and as such his huscarls, under the command of his son Othek, provide considerably more security than one would expect for such a small village, and it has well-maintained roads leading southwest to Wunirö and north to Oxbane Keep.
Othek, as commander of the huscarls, offers to buy the battleaxes and harpoon at full price (5 gp total), while Nirri is willing to purchase the shamanic herbs and Tuluruqi pendants (45gp total).
For 40 gp, Othek offers to sell you four horses and a pony (for Kork), together with matching bridles, saddles, and saddlebags, and a month's free stabling for each steed, which would leave 2gp per player for other purchases.
The Green Man stares at Kork, the two of them cutting a comical scene as the fey being shakes gently back and forth under the slight pressure the goblin is placing on his knees.
"A goblin, eh?" he says grumpily. "I see why Makilka banished your kind from our realm all those centuries ago."
As Kork continues his gentle pushing, the verdant gatekeeper loses patience. "Would you stop that?" he barks, releasing a cloud of spores from his beard that settle on Kork. The goblin sneezes once, eyes suddenly heavy, then slides down to the ground and rolls backward. By the time his head comes to rest on a pillow of mushrooms, he is already snoring loudly.
The Green Man turns to regard the party. "Again, and for the last time, I ask: what business have you in the Land Beyond?"
Here are all the major and minor plot threads. Let me know if there's one you think I missed.
Major ongoing plot threads:
1. Identify what happened to the virloga and see if there is a way to bring them back
2. Establish contact with the Röskarí and learn what you can about the elves in the interior and their magic.
3. Uncover more about the angakkuk who attacked the Ilannaqi village, how she did it, and if there is a way you might weaken or even defeat her.
4. Determine the nature of the thing sealed below the wastes and either discover a safe method of resource extraction or else find evidence to deter future exploration.
Minor or dormant plot threads:
1. Uncover what happened to Jade's father.
2. Discover the employer of the mage who attacked you in Jurgen's Fist, and how knowledge of the distillate leaked.
3. Uncover more about previous expeditions such as the one that left a mining pick up on the kraton.
If you choose an archetype with a dead level (such as talisman dabbler, which has no level 6 feat to take and only one level 4 feat), you can take an extra archetype feat at that dead level, but must then finish up the first archetype's 2 feat requirement before taking any more in the second archetype.
"Kaixo danga. Za ga honetan ildza laguntza. Hoka pedek, ullo ni zepeshta. Ni sulkadar jalbo anak, upo zar tengan melashka."
Goblin:
"Hello to you too, brother. I'm the cook and the chef. Today's potato day, which is my specialty. I can cook almost anything, but I have a special place in my heart for the taste of spuds. You can do all kinds of things with them.""
You enter the tiny "mess hall" through the south door. A goblin in a tattered chef's hat is ladling out (what else) potato soup into tin bowls, with beef broth and fresh carrot slices bobbing in it.
CREW OF THE HELLION'S CRY
Captain Alphonse Ferrino, human male
Quartermaster Mirian Seaspeckle, human female
Helmsman/cox’n, Sebasthin Cyranno, human male
Bosun, Yoris Mikkelthorpe
Navigator, Luwana Zeelo, female human
Carpenter, Elendriel Malorn, male aiuvarin
Cooper, Agosti Cipriano, male human
Sailmaker, Stennis Folari, male human
Blacksmith, Thorvaldur Hrolfsson, male dwarf
Apprentice blacksmith, Hodak Gristlemane, male dromaar
Gunner, Gunnar Thurvardsson, male dwarf
Gunner’s mate, Thaddrick Lightfoot, male halfling
Cook, Snekki, male goblin
Surgeon, Gideon Klotrich, human male
Scoutmaster Dillis Andrino, human male
The captain and quartermaster eat in their cabins, while the cox'n is busy abovedeck, along with the navigator, scoutmaster, and apprentice blacksmith. The rest of the crew, however, is here, eating amiably.
“Hail and well met!” he offers breezily. “I’m Sebasthin Cyranno, the cox’n. Most of the rest of the crew is out whoring or gambling away their advance pay while the stevedores finish loading. The exceptions are behind you.”
He turns around and waves to two men standing on the deck of the ship. They wave back gruffly. One, a dwarf carrying a heavy mallet, nods, then heads belowdecks, mouthing something too faint to hear at this distance. The other, Captain Ferrino, waves back, then returns to his inspection of the horizon.
“The dwarf is Thorvaldur Hrolfsson, the ship’s blacksmith. No ship can do without one; there are far too many fiddly metal bits holding that thing together to voyage safely otherwise.”
Sebasthin nods at Ferrino.
“And obviously you’ve met the captain.”
He glances at each of you in turn. “I’m pretty sure I know what you do. If you’re wondering what it is I do, I steer the ship wherever the navigator tells me, and am paid a pretty penny for knowing the ways of the wind better than Stormlord Kassassi himself.”
He sticks a finger into the wind for a moment, then adds, “The wind won’t be right for us to back out of port for a good half-hour, which is more than enough time to finish loading and for the rest of these useless loot-sponging bastards to get done wetting their cox’ns.”
He chuckles, letting you know that his assessment of the crew is in jest, before gesturing to the ship itself.
“She’s a beauty, all right. Ten cannons to see off anyone fool enough to try us, sails made of Thedalian runecotton that are almost impossible to burn and very hard to tear, even in high winds, and an extradimensional larder that keeps its contents in temporal stasis until needed. We can stave off scurvy with fresh fruit without making constant stops, and have room to stretch and breathe belowdecks.”
He turns to face each of you in turn and says,
“So, what brings you lot to go to such lengths for gold? Or is it even gold you’re after?”
"Our ship's surgeon, Gideon Klotrich, is quite experienced, and we will of course have a small arsenal of antidotes, antiplagues, and elixirs of life onboard; not so many we can afford to be wasteful, but enough to equip the scouting party for dangerous missions."
He thinks for a moment, reviewing items in his mind's eye.
"Black powder for the cannons, flasks of acid and naphtha, a few thousand arrows and crossbow bolts, climbing kits, a small workshop with an alchemist's lab and repair kit, navigational equipment, and plenty of items I'm not recalling off the top of my head. As to weapons, we'll have plenty of spare hatchets, daggers, bows, and harpoons, but if you want anything more exotic you'll need to bring it yourself."
He pauses as a thought occurs to him.
"You will also receive a share of any booty taken over the course of the expedition, with a bonus share for combat pay if applicable."
For those of you who haven't played 2e before, one of the things that was changed is initiative.
The default initiative roll is a Perception check. If you're hiding from the enemy you can roll a Stealth check instead. If you were in the middle of a conversation and trying to bluff or distract them from noticing your imminent hostile intent, you roll Deception. If you're attacking with a weapon you concealed on your person, you can roll Thievery (though you'd have to retrieve the weapon, which can cost you an action or two).
Using rolls besides Perception is a GM call, and since I'll be rolling initiative for you (otherwise we'd waste a whole day for no reason every time combat started) I'll be deciding which rolls to use.
Surprise rounds don't exist anymore, since giving certain actors extra actions contributed to the problem of "rocket tag" that pervaded 1e. If you're in hiding, cover bonuses to Stealth apply to your initiative roll, which can help you go first, but it doesn't give you an extra attack or spell.
I understand that the point of level-based RPGs is that going up in level allows you to face more interesting and dangerous enemies, so wasting interesting monster concepts on level -1 and 0 stat blocks can be a feelsbadman.jpg moment for devs (especially when you can take a level 1 mob and knock it down a peg with the weak template if you're so inclined).
But if you want to create 2- or 4-monster encounters for level 1 characters, and want to do it by grabbing monsters right out of the book without making your own (perhaps the players did something completely unexpected and you have to wing it), you're pretty limited.
Bestiary 1, 2, and 3 have 33 level -1 and 27 level 0 creatures between them (including monsters like the blue-ringed octopus that are pretty... niche), while bestiary 1 alone has 50 level 1 creatures, almost as many as both of the other levels' monsters combined for all three books.
If the monster core is still in development, maybe we could get some more micro-monsters for characters just starting out to fight?
And if it's already off to the printers, maybe Monster Core 2 could have some?
Blind creatures operating by blindsight are immune to visual illusions like veil. They might be fooled by the 7th-level version's ability to alter your voice and scent, but it doesn't affect the way (for example) a destrachan's echolocation bounces off you, giving away discrepancies in height and facial structure.
Now, blindsight obviously doesn't pierce polymorph effects, but veil is the only spell or magic item I can find that permits impersonation of specific individuals.
My complaint isn't that "Oh no, the Deception skill is useful," or "Oh no, spell casters have to reach high levels to acquire their best abilities." Those are good things, and I'm okay with that.
My issue is that there doesn't seem to be any way to magically impersonate another individual in a way that fools touch and blindsight, even with extremely-late-game spells like shapechange.
The non-magical components of a magically augmented disguise aren't going to stand up to a physical search.
Arguably the Alter Ego archetype's Change of Face feat permits magical impersonation by providing a supernatural alternative to a disguise kit, but I can't seem to find anything else that isn't ancestry-locked, and two feats plus being trained in Stealth is quite an investment.
Why is the Pathfinder 2e magic system so much stingier with this capability than 3e and 5e?
Illusory disguise (disguise self in 3e/5e), humanoid form (alter self in 3e/5e), veil (unless heightened all the way to 7th level), the potion of disguise from the APG, and even shapechange (because by RAW all it does is duplicate lower-level spells that all have this limitation) all seem to be limited to impersonating types of creatures rather than specific individuals.
As far as a spell or magic item that permits the impersonation of a specific individual and that fools touch and blindsight, I can't find one.
Was this an oversight by the devs? Why did they add these restrictions to the PF versions of these spells?
This is more about the question of how it affects 2e specifically, though. 2e is considerably more different from 3.0/3.5 than PF1e is, to the point that I'm not sure why they needed to include it in 2e.
PF1e would never have been successful if it hadn't been as close as possible to 3.5, but 2e was intended to be a major overhaul rather than minor tweaks.
Now, this news hasn't been confirmed yet, but it looks like WotC is seriously considering canceling the 3.0/3.5 OGL and replacing it with one that would take as much as a 25% cut of everything major 3rd-party publishers make on RPG products.
This includes Pathfinder 2e, because it includes the 1.0a OGL on page 638.
They seem to be trying to cancel and replace the 3.5e OGL with something very similar to the truly awful 4e license that nobody used (now updated with provisions that screw Foundry, Roll20, FantasyGrounds, and anybody trying to make virtual tabletops or other online tools).
Pushback might make them reconsider, but I'm worried that the final decision would rest with lawyers at Hasbro who couldn't give two damns about RPGs and basically consider Paizo, Kobold Press, and Green Ronin as pirates and parasites.
Could Paizo still produce content for 2e if they had to fork over 25% of everything they made off 2e? I haven't heard anything from the Paizo devs but this sounds terrible.
The problem with the AI is that it's scraping data from the internet, and you get a pretty bland average from the result. "An army of dragons attack everyone" is like... D&D movie bad. And not the new one.
If you're going to do this, I think you'll have better results if you include a bit of something specific and interesting in the prompt.
I know, if I was actually going to prep for a campaign I would do that. The above was literally just my first fifteen minutes with the thing.
So ChatGPT has been all over the news lately and I'm wondering if anybody has any experience using it as a Gamemastering aid.
Obviously, it's nowhere near the point of replacing a GM altogether, but when I typed in "What are some original story ideas for a Dungeons and Dragons campaign?" (I wasn't sure if Pathfinder was prominent enough in the training data for it to know what that was). The machine then gave me these:
Campaign Ideas:
1. A group of adventurers must stop a group of cultists from summoning an ancient and powerful demon into the world.
2. The players are hired by a wealthy merchant to retrieve a rare and valuable artifact from a long-abandoned temple, only to discover that the temple is haunted by the spirits of those who died trying to claim the artifact.
3. A plague has swept across the land, and the players must find a cure before it consumes the entire kingdom.
4. The players are hired by a group of dwarves to help them reclaim their ancestral homeland, which has been taken over by a group of orcs.
5. A powerful sorceress has seized control of a kingdom, using her magic to keep the populace in line. The players must find a way to defeat her and restore freedom to the people.
6. The players are recruited by a group of rebels fighting against an oppressive government, and must use their skills and wits to bring down the corrupt rulers and bring about a new era of freedom.
7. A group of powerful dragons has declared war on the mortal races, and the players must find a way to stop them before it's too late.
8. A long-dormant volcano has suddenly erupted, unleashing a horde of monsters that threaten to overrun the surrounding lands. The players must brave the dangers of the volcano and put a stop to the threat.
They're all pretty standard, though number 2 seems more like an adventure than a campaign (though it could become a campaign with some improvisation and further development). I rolled a d8, got a 7, and typed in "In number 7, why did the group of powerful dragons declare war on the mortal races?" and got this response:
Reasons for War:
There could be a variety of reasons why a group of powerful dragons might declare war on the mortal races in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Here are a few possible reasons:
1. The dragons feel that the mortal races have become too powerful and pose a threat to their dominance. They may see war as the only way to protect their own interests.
2. The dragons may have grown tired of living in hiding and have decided to reclaim their rightful place as the dominant species on the planet.
3. The dragons may have been provoked by the actions of the mortal races, such as encroaching on their territory or stealing their treasure.
4. The dragons may be under the influence of a powerful force, such as a demon or an evil deity, that has convinced them to wage war on the mortal races.
5. The dragons may be seeking revenge for some perceived wrong that the mortal races have inflicted upon them in the past.
Ultimately, the reason for the dragons' declaration of war could be a key plot point in the campaign, and the players may need to uncover the reason in order to find a way to stop the conflict and bring about a peaceful resolution.
I decided that while some of these reasons were not mutually contradictory and could be woven together to make the story more engaging, I was most interested in trying to pin the AI down on #4 and see how good its world building skills were. So I asked "In number 4, how did the evil deity convince the dragons to wage war?"
Evil Deity Methods:
It's possible that an evil deity may have convinced the dragons to wage war on the mortal races through a variety of methods. Here are a few possibilities:
1. The evil deity may have promised the dragons great power and rewards in exchange for their loyalty and service.
2. The evil deity may have appealed to the dragons' pride and ego, convincing them that they were the rightful rulers of the world and that the mortal races were nothing but inferior beings.
3. The evil deity may have used trickery and deceit to manipulate the dragons into believing that the mortal races were a threat that needed to be eliminated.
4. The evil deity may have used its power to control the dragons' minds, forcing them to do its bidding.
5. The evil deity may have used a combination of these methods to convince the dragons to wage war on the mortal races.
Ultimately, the specific methods that the evil deity used to convince the dragons to wage war could be an interesting plot point for the campaign, and the players may need to uncover the truth and find a way to break the deity's hold over the dragons in order to bring about a peaceful resolution.
So number 5 is kind of a cop-out, but at least the machine is smart enough to realize that these methods are not mutually exclusive. Now, a story needs a cast of characters besides the villains and the PCs, so my next question was: "Other than the players, who resists the dragons most fiercely?"
The AI had a bit of a hiccup here, accidentally listing as item number 2 out of 5 a group that would ally with the dragons and why, so I downvoted that response and asked for another.
Anti-Dragon Forces:
There could be a variety of groups or individuals who might resist the dragons most fiercely in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Here are a few possibilities:
1. The mortal races: Depending on the setting and the nature of the conflict, it's possible that the mortal races (such as humans, dwarves, elves, etc.) may band together to resist the dragons' aggression. They may have their own armies and leaders, or they may rely on the players to help them fight back against the dragons.
2. Other powerful creatures: It's possible that other powerful creatures, such as dragons of different alignments, powerful wizards, or ancient beings, may decide to resist the dragons and join the fight against them. These creatures may have their own motivations for opposing the dragons, and they may provide valuable support to the players and the mortal races in their efforts to stop the war.
3. Religious or ideological groups: It's possible that certain religious or ideological groups may take up arms against the dragons, either out of a sense of duty or because they see the dragons' actions as a threat to their way of life. These groups may be willing to make great sacrifices to stop the dragons and protect their beliefs.
4. Rogue adventurers: It's possible that some adventurers may decide to resist the dragons on their own, either for personal gain or because they see the dragons' actions as evil and want to do something about it. These adventurers may be lone wolves or may work in small groups, and they could provide valuable support to the players in their efforts to stop the war.
My next question was, "How do the dragons initiate hostilities?"
Beginning of war:
There are many ways that dragons might initiate hostilities in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Here are a few possibilities:
1. The dragons may simply attack a settlement or village without warning, using their powerful abilities to wreak havoc and cause destruction.
2. The dragons may send an ultimatum or demand to the mortal races, stating that they must either submit to the dragons' rule or face the consequences.
3. The dragons may infiltrate the mortal races' organizations and try to sow discord and distrust, in an effort to weaken the mortal races' defenses before launching a full-scale attack.
4. The dragons may try to provoke the mortal races into attacking them first, perhaps by stealing valuable resources or committing other acts of aggression.
5. The dragons may work behind the scenes to destabilize the mortal races' society, perhaps by manipulating political leaders or creating economic chaos.
Ultimately, the specific way that the dragons initiate hostilities could depend on the dragons' motivations and goals, as well as the specific setting and circumstances of the campaign.
It was at this point that I realized it would take a considerable amount of chatting with the machine and teaching it the rudiments of a particular campaign world before it could go beyond generalities that would be obvious to any experienced GM, and I didn't have that kind of time. But maybe people on the boards do. Has anybody tried using it as a GM tool, perhaps to help with writer's block?
It won't write adventures for you, but it seems like it could handle intellectual grunt work, like spitballing ideas that the GM can then refine. I also tried to see if I could get it to write descriptive text for NPCs:
"If I were to describe the leader of the dragon armies in the style of a novel, how would I do it?"
AI's Description:
If you wanted to describe the leader of the dragon armies in the style of a novel, you might include details such as the dragon's physical appearance, personality, and background to create a rich and immersive portrayal of the character. Here are a few suggestions for how you might describe the leader of the dragon armies:
"The leader of the dragon armies was a massive black dragon with piercing red eyes and wings so vast they seemed to blot out the sun. His scales were as hard as steel and his breath could melt steel. His name was feared across the land, and tales of his brutal conquests and ruthless tactics had spread far and wide. He was a being of pure power and ambition, driven by a burning desire to conquer and dominate all who opposed him. But beneath his fearsome exterior, there lay a deep intelligence and cunning that had helped him rise to the top of the dragon hierarchy. His enemies trembled at the thought of facing him in battle, but to his allies, he was a fearsome ally who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals."
Now, that description was a little middle-schoolish, and the AI didn't realize that black dragons breathe acid, not fire, so I went over it again making a few changes by hand to make it less clunky:
Refined description:
"The leader of the dragon armies was a massive red drake with piercing topaz eyes and wings so vast they seemed to blot out the sun. His scales were as hard as iron and his breath could melt steel. His name was feared across the land, and tales of his brutal conquests and ruthless tactics had spread far and wide. He was a being of all-consuming ambition, driven by a burning desire to conquer and dominate all who opposed him. But beneath his ferocious exterior lay a subtle intelligence: a cunning that had helped him rise to the top of the dragon hierarchy. His enemies trembled at the thought of facing him in battle, but to his allies, he was a fearsome comrade who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals."
Neither of them is winning any Nebula Awards, but when you're trying to juggle DM'ing with job/school/family, you're not trying to. You just want to prep your descriptive italicized text paragraphs with minimal fuss.
Anybody else tried using AI for something like this?
So what I'm hearing a lot of in this thread is that the ease of finding players and DMs is one of the main selling points for 5e?
There are some things I like about 5e:
*saving throws versus all 6 abilities is conceptually neat. Why 3e had Grapple checks instead of Strength saves I'll never know.
*bounded accuracy means that swarms of low-level monsters remain a threat to high-level characters.
*replacing almost every little circumstantial or temporary +x/-x with advantage/disadvantage means less time adding and erasing things on your character sheet.
But 2e has massively better character customization options due to class feats and general feats, and the skill system is more developed. The action economy is also more elegant, once you get used to it.
Is there a place where the devs talk out the reasoning behind all the changes they did and didn't make for 2e? I was checked out of the TTRPG world for several years and missed the playtest.
Pathfinder 2e and D&D 5e are similar games, but key differences (action economy, saving throws, the skill system, and bounded accuracy in general) separate them enough that mental effort is required to translate between them.
How many people on these boards also play 5e? And how do you split your time and attention between them if you do both?
I’ve always wondered where this spell draws the line between what’s translatable and what’s not. If a document is written in a dead language but is otherwise unremarkable, the effect is straightforward. If it contains a secret code written in the same language but hidden, it would translate the code if you noticed it, but if you fail the check to notice it, the spell doesn’t help.
At first, I thought the spell was simply there to eliminate unintentional obstacles to understanding caused by language barriers, but then I thought some more and things got complicated.
I’d like to ask how other tables handle things like context, metaphors, and figures of speech. Does this spell translate “Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra” or are you spending the whole session learning to communicate, Picard-style?
Geb is an interesting place for sure, but I always questioned why they use zombies as farmhands. If I were growing food for human consumption and possible export, wouldn’t skeletons be the obvious choice? They’re not any more expensive to make than zombies, faster, and much more hygienic.
Like in any election, the key is to identify the “thought leaders” in the settlement and win their endorsement.
A newcomer giving speeches in the marketplace is never going to build enough credibility in two weeks to win by Election Day unless influential and trendsetting people endorse them.
Contests of ideas are for courtrooms, not politics.
Break the settlement up into blocs (the flock of the village priest, the members of the thieves’ guild, that one huge family that makes half the town into cousins, workers on a rich guy’s estate, regulars at a particular establishment, etc) and assign the blocs values according to their size.
It’s the players’ task to identify the blocs, who each bloc’s leader is (guild master, family patriarch, tavern keeper, etc), and acquire more Influence Points (GMG 151) with the leader than any other candidate. Each bloc you do this with by Election Day earns you points based on the bloc’s size, and whoever gets the most points wins.
If you want to include the “win by giving speeches in the marketplace” route, you can leave a few floating points to represent the independent thinkers, and whoever gives the best speeches wins those points. If you do a really good job you can impress leaders and win some Influence Points with them by swaying their followers. “Gee, my people like this guy. He must be alright!”
You can complicate matters by including a runoff vote between the top two candidates in a multi-person race, in which case one or more of the leaders in the second round are the candidates who didn’t make the top two!
Your Standard Fantasy Setting (warning: TV Tropes link!) can get a little stale after a few years. What are some of your favorite examples of Paizo subverting expectations regarding a generic fantasy setting element or story progression?
A good (if obvious) example would be the death of Aroden. It would have been like having to call off the Second Coming because Jesus choked on a bagel.
(If it’s in an adventure module or path, be sure to put it in a spoiler tag unless it’s on the back of the book or happens before the first session begins).
Because they're game worlds, not political science models, and they develop as their authors want to in order to tell stories they want to tell.
Well, yes, but political science models can help authors tell their stories, because ultimately political science models are just another kind of story designed to help clarify the forces involved.
A story can help answer questions like “how are the civilizations on this planet tens of thousands of years old yet nobody has technology much beyond rudimentary steam power?”
One answer, or part of an answer, is that, when it comes to destroying prosperity and blocking progress, the hereditary absolute monarchies that dominate fantasy RPG settings seem almost tailor-made for the job.
After all, authoritarian systems cannot handle the creative destruction that comes with innovation, because the lack of nonviolent means of changing rulers leaves them too brittle. Large numbers of unemployed people can lead to a dead ruler, so labor-saving ideas are often banned by the ruling elite.
I would say that the Mwangi Expanse has “failed” from an economic perspective, not a cultural one, because there is no such thing as a “superior culture.”
The Mwangi Expanse obviously has no centralized government capable of enforcing contracts or exercising a monopoly on legitimate violence, and therefore urbanization on a large scale and the economic growth made possible by labor specialization will not occur until those facts change.
Now is it Eurocentric to say that urbanization and growth are inherently worthy goals and that a region without them is a failure? Perhaps yes. But urbanization and growth are measurable, which nerds like me love.
As far as treating the “barbarian” tribes as a threat to civilization, I perhaps wasn’t sufficiently clear: if there is one tribe with a monopoly on the legitimate use of force, they are the government even if they wear nothing but leather loincloths. A written constitution and capital city full of marble statues are unnecessary. On the other hand, if land or resources can be seized by any actor in the region with an affinity for violence, and preventing or avenging such violence is the sole responsibility of the victims, there is no “civilization,” even if everyone is dressed in silk.
And finally, I understand that this exercise has a bit of a “how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?” quality to it, and that Golarion is in no way an accurate example of political formalism, what with the robots and zombies and wizards and whatnot. I just think that exploring WHY Golarion (and other fantasy RPG worlds like Eberron and Faerun) don’t follow political science models can help spark creativity and can potentially make for a better game, provided one keeps in mind the limitations of the exercise.
After all, most of the entities described in the bestiaries follow some sort of logic, even if strange, and their behavior can thus be subject to qualitative analysis.
Note that dictatorships wherein the dictator receives guidance from supernatural entities may escape some or all of the traps described above, depending on the nature of the entity.
Note further that these traps are merely very strong trends rather than physical laws, and many dictatorships do not follow them all. However, a dictatorship that doesn’t follow any is likely to be overthrown relatively quickly.
So I was reading “Why Nations Fail” (Daron Acemoglu & James Robinson), and as a thought experiment sought to apply what I could of its conclusions to the fantasy RPG context with the goal of creating more detailed worlds and more fulfilling games.
(TL;DR: Andoran will probably be ruling Golarion within the next 50-100 years because democracy is such a superior form of government.)
If I say something stupid, please point it out! If something doesn’t make sense, tell me! It’s how we all learn. If a prediction or statement doesn’t ring true, point it out!
Assuming I’ve read the book correctly (an iffy prospect, since I dropped Poli Sci halfway through my first semester of college 10 years ago and never went back to the subject), nations fail in two main ways:
1. When no actor is able to establish a monopoly on violence within a given territory, leaving it devoid of law and order and prey to banditry.
2. When the state centralizes all power in the hands of a tiny elite that ignores the rule of law whenever doing so is convenient and governs overwhelmingly in its own narrow interests.
An example of Failure Mode 1 would be the Mwangi Expanse on Golarion (or Somalia in the real world). Failure Mode 2 is the default position of any feudal kingdom or imperial despotate, and includes nearly all nations in recorded history as well as most fictional nations, including Cheliax et. al. on Golarion.
The detriments of Failure Mode 1 (anarchy) are obvious: it is impossible to establish a prosperous society when barbarian tribes, bandits, monsters, and similar dangers wander the countryside attacking any would-be settlers.
But the detriments of Failure Mode 2 (authoritarianism) are less obvious, to the point that many GMs don’t fully consider their consequences when worldbuilding. The Mode 2 society, wherein the power of the state is in the hands of a relatively small, closed oligarchy (often but not always hereditary), is very brittle. The elite, with no legal checks on their power, eliminate any nonviolent methods of displacing them (assuming they ever existed in the first place), politicize the justice system until the law effectively means whatever they want it to mean and applies only to those they don’t like, and engage in massive corruption, cronyism, nepotism, and all manner of selfish practices that undermine the very government they purport to lead. In extreme cases, their misrule can precipitate the collapse of the state via peasant revolt, military coup, or similar events.
In a Failure Mode 2 society, power centers independent of the ruling clique are a threat to its power and thus to social stability, especially independently wealthy entrepreneurs, merchants, adventurers, or businessmen. The ruling clique will seek to co-opt any such power centers, buying them off if such can be done at a reasonable price (keeping in mind that “reasonable” for a dictator can be quite a sum, since none of it is actually his money). Independent power centers that refuse to be co-opted or corrupted are harassed out of existence by crooked tax collectors, or simply destroyed by violence in the less subtle dictatorships.
In Mode 2 societies, trade (especially long-distance trade) is almost always a government monopoly, either carried out directly by the Crown or else by a monopoly trust that acquired exclusive rights to a particular trade via corrupt connections to the ruling clique.
Education (other than apprenticeships in simple trades) is discouraged in Mode 2 societies save for the children of the ruling clique, and perhaps the clergy if the nation is a theocracy based on the contents of a sacred text (or at least what the ruling clique says are its contents). Literacy in particular is a threat, promoting the concepts of the rule of law and accurate knowledge of history and current events that could be damaging to the ruling elite’s hold on power.
Taxes in Mode 2 societies are very high, as without any nonviolent legal means of opposing the rulers they are free to set the tax burden at whatever level they can competently administer without sparking famine and state collapse, rather than the level most conducive to widespread prosperity. This tax revenue is then mostly wasted on luxury goods, payoffs required to co-opt rival elites, various white elephant projects, and pointless wars.
The highly unequal wealth distribution in Failure Mode 2 societies makes control of state revenue a prize of immense value, to the point that a series of civil wars sparked by greed can ultimately destroy a civilization and cause a society in Failure Mode 2 (authoritarianism & dictatorship) to revert to Failure Mode 1 (anarchy & barbarism).
Access to supernatural powers is extremely limited in Failure Mode 2 societies. Wizardry and alchemy are only taught and practiced by members of state-sanctioned guilds with arbitrary and capricious membership rules written to keep the magical arts under the thumb of the state. Attempts to practice either art outside guild strictures are harshly punished by the authorities. Sorcerers, psychics and other mystical practitioners not affiliated with the ruling clique are usually deemed enemies of the state, as are members of schismatic religious orders, foreign cults, Druidic circles, witches’ covens, and any other alternative mystical or spiritual practice not beholden to the ruling elite.
But the most pernicious trait of Failure Mode 2 societies is their tendency to squash innovation and growth purely out of the leaders’ paranoia. Any technological or magical breakthrough that might increase productivity and save labor is usually outright banned by the ruling elite, out of concern that anyone rendered unemployed or underemployed by the advance would begin contemplating rebellion.
It’s hard to overstate the importance of the preceding paragraph. For nearly all of human history, economic growth and technological advancement were essentially nil because the negative consequences of authoritarian government were so serious. The absence of the rule of law, confiscatory tax rates, frequent civil wars, and an elite that actively undermined their own citizens in the name of stability ensured that for most of human history, stagnation was the rule. But when the Glorious Revolution of 1688 reined in the near-absolute power of the English Crown and put parliamentary democracy on a firm footing, England and its colonies rapidly industrialized and within two centuries effectively ran the world.
The tropes of fantasy literature and gaming can sometimes obscure this (especially the tropes of the Good or Wise King), but absolute monarchies (hereditary or not) are authoritarian systems by definition and are prone to all of their flaws, including the ones mentioned above. The absence of authoritarian rule is such a strong predictor of prosperity that, barring democratic backsliding, total military conquest, or supernatural calamity, democracies such as Andoran which practice Common Rule are almost guaranteed a level of prosperity that will grant them global economic hegemony within a century or less.
Long-lived races such as the elves are better capable of the self-restraint required for an authoritarian state to function reasonably well for an extended period, but when an elf or dwarf of bad character gains the throne, centuries of misrule can create truly hellish dystopias that more than squander the fruits of their predecessors’ reigns.
As far as the game impact of all this goes, in a Failure Mode 2 society, the player characters are on a collision course with the state from level 4-5 on: either they will join forces with the state, or ultimately destroy it. The paranoia of authoritarian government is too strong for any other outcome to be likely over the long term, barring extenuating circumstances.
Distributing political power more widely (particularly among a merchant class whose wealth is based on business savvy rather than corruption or inheritance and who have both the motivation and the means to check the power of the Crown) produces less abusive government, and sometimes results in the creation of rule-of-law constraints on the Crown’s power that ultimately lead to parliamentary democracy, but the discovery of overseas colonies loaded with natural resources and natives easily exploited for slave or near-slave labor lock in a country’s authoritarian bent by freeing the Crown from reliance on its own population for state revenue.
