CAS

CAS

Tuesday, December 31, 2019

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Erase

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Erase

8). Erase

Amedian - Kif'Ta (Ku-Fu-Ta)

Bakluni (Ancient) - Zemak (Ze-Mek)

Drow - Tareleza (Ta-Re-Lez)

Dwarven - Szleta (Zel-Ta)

Elven - Peaka (Pe-Ek-A)

Flan - Kreosade (Kre-Os-Ad)

Fruz - Eoa (E-Oh-A)

Giantish -Eoska'N (E-Os-Ke-An)

Gnomish - Vesean (Ve-Se-En)

Oeridian - Staraeta (Sta-Ra-Ta)

Olman - Akara (Ak-Ar-A)

Suel - Del'N (De-La-En)

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Enlarge

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Enlarge

7). Enlarge

Amedian - Kupan'A (Ku-Pa-Nu-A)

Bakluni (Ancient) - Beutmek (Bi-Ut-Mek)

Drow - Reslitek (Re-Ze-Le-Tek)

Dwarven - Fostore (Fo-Sto-Re)

Elven - Zerente (Zu-Ren-Ta)

Flan - Mheadu (Me-Ad-E)

Fruz - Staikka (Sta-Ek-Ka)

Giantish - Vigrieberen (Ve-Gru-Be-Ren)

Gnomish - Virgrotene (Ver-Gro-Ten)

Oeridian - Uvaelekte (Uv-El-Ek-Ti)

Olman - Pereakku (Pe-Re-Ak-Ku)

Suel - Dilato (De-La-To)

Minstrel Tales - Throng to Owen's Call


Minstrel Tales Throng to Owen's Call

After years of struggle and exile Grand Duke Owen of Geoff was able to finally gather enough soldiers and allies to begin the battle to retake Geoff from the invading giants and their monsterous cohorts. The bard, Silvertongue, wrote this song-poem which spread across the Flanaess and drew back Geoffites and their children, now grown adults themselves. So popular did this song-poem become that adventurers, mercenary bands and volunteers from many nations answered Owen's call and joined his growing army as it began the campaign as the marched on the ruined capital of Hochoch.

Throng to Owen's Call

Men! If manhood still ye claim
If the Geoff pulse can thrill.
Roused by wrong or stung by shame,
freely, strongly still;
Let your work forgotten lie;
Shut the mill-gate, leave the stall,
Fling the axe and hammer by;
Throng to Owen's call.

Wrongs which freemen never brooked,
Wounds which have not ever healed,
Which, like crouching griffons, looked
On your father's shield.
These your instant zeal demand,
Shaking with their earthquake-call
Every rood of Geoff land,
Hark to Owen's call.

From your travels near and far.
From your mountain-caverns cold,
Through whose pines and westering stars
Stoop their crowns of gold;
Come, and with your footsteps wake
Echoes from forgotten halls;
Once again for freedom's sake,
Heed Lord Owen's call.

Up, and tread beneath your feet
All that the enemy has won:
Let your hearts together beat
As the heart of one.
Up, your banner leads the van,
Let them dread their coming fall!
Finish what your sires began!
Throng to Owen's call!

(Loosely adapted from 'To Faneuil Hall' By Whittier)

Adventure (Seed) - Listener to the Sphynx



Listener to the Sphynx

In the Dry Steppes the old wastelands hold many mysteries. Its borders are not a place for men or even those who walk as men, but amid its wind-swept desolation can be found the ruins of man. Old  tales tell of the lost towns and cities in that terrible place, but only the statues and obelisks of that ancient land can be found jutting from the surface of the cold and barren tundra.

A cult of wild-monks, driven mad by the dark and malevolent desolation all around them speak with the statues of man, God and monster and they listen for a reply which is more than the moaning of the wind. These mad men speak of a vast necropolis, of a terrible otherworldly music that floats on the wind, of the things whose shape twists the mind and the bodies which must be gathered and burned by touch since none can see such things and live. 

It is said that the heart of the Dry Steppes was saved by the power of the last Bakluni God-King and that the hordes of nomad barbarians dwell in this place. If any of the wild-mad monks can be talked to it will be found in what high regard they have for these suppossed nomadic tribesmen and a hint at a greater organization and purpose behind them.

What relics of the ancient Baklunish past might be found in this vestige of the green and pleasant land which existed before the culmination of the war with the Suel? What power the God-King and his Magi possessed to protect their own land and yet destroy, utterly, the home of the Suel Imperium? And so twin expedition are said to be prepossed to seek the heart of both the Dry Steppes and the Sea of Dust. What answers can be found except perhaps those whispered from dead statues which have already driven mad the wild-monks of the Dry Steppes.

Minstrel Tales - The Last Ride With Osson


Minstrel Tales The Last Ride With Osson

Not all of those who rode with Osson perished. A few, very few, made their way from Sunndi and their stories are now being told in verse and in prose throughout the Flanaess.

The Last Ride With Osson

"Once we were fighting at the source of the Mikar,
Now we are fighting for are lives to cross the Flanmi.
We have washed our swords in the surf of the Aerdi Sea;
We have pastured our horses among the fields of Medegia.
Osson's soldiers have grown weak and old
Fighting so many leagues away from home.

Men die in the field, slashing sword to sword;
The horses of the conquered neigh piteously to the sky.
Crows and hawks peck for human guts,
Carry them in their beaks and hang them on the branches of withered trees.
Captains and soldiers are smeared on the bushes and grass;
The General schemed in vain.

Know therefore that the sword is a cursed thing
Which the wise man uses only if he must."

Fighting South of the Ramparts By Li Po (Altered slightly for the Greyhawk campaign).

Monday, December 30, 2019

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Detect Magic

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Detect Magic

6). Detect Magic

Amedian - Kukuguza Ak'We (Ku-Ku-Gu-Za Ak-Aw-E)

Bakluni (Ancient) - Seharel Tezpite (Se-He-Ril Tez-Pit)

Drow - Erzekeln Maja (Er-Zek-El-Ne Ma-Je)

Dwarven - Opdala Maji (Op-Da-Ja Ma-Gee)

Elven - Haveta Taka (Ha-Vi-Ta Ta-Ka)

Flan - Barat Dra'Kta (Bar-At Dra-Ok-Ta)

Fruz - Upgotva Tavra (Up-Got-Va TA-Fra)

Giantish - Maga Endaken (Ma-Ga En-Dek-En)

Gnomish - Detakene Maji (De-Tek-En Ma-Je)

Oeridian - Obnarezan Maji (Ob-Nar-Az-En Ma-Je)

Olman - Maei Ka'ntare (Ma-A Ka-An-Ta-Re)

Suel - Depaendera Magica (De-Pe-En-De-Ra Ma-Ja-Ka)

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Dancing Lights

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Dancing Lights

5). Dancing Lights

Amedian - Kukeza Taa (Ku-Ke-Za Ta)

Bakluni (Ancient) - Dae Ezeklar (Da Es-Ek-La-Re)

Drow - Tenklo Fe'K (Te-No-Klo Fe-Ek)

Dwarven - Daenda Lys (Da-En-Da Lis)

Elven - Daenzin Valoe (Da-En-Sin Va-Lo)

Flan - Zo'lza Damaeza (Zo-El-Ze Da-Ma-Za)

Fruz - Daenda Loez (Da-En-Da Loz)

Giantish - Tazenda Leeta (Ta-Zen-Da Le-Te)

Gnomish - Daenda Leaten (Da-En-Da Le-Ten)

Oeridian - Tanzuesek Ogny (Tan-Zu-Is-Ik Og-Ne)

Olman -Nataam Veakkukae (Na-Ta-Am Ve-Ak-Ku-Ka)

Suel - Korum Luminar (Ko-Ram Lu-Me-Nar)

Minstrel Tales - The Bold Soldier of Chendl



Minstrel Tales The Bold Soldier of Chendl

The Bold Soldier of Chendl

This is a tale of Chendl.


There was in the days before the War a house in the Inner City of Chendl that was as beautiful as the Royal Palace, if not as large; but after the war no one would live in it because it was haunted. At the stroke of twelve there came a ghost, that ran up and down the stairs; and when it struck one, it would place itself behind the street-door, and begin to howl so horribly that everyone felt pity for it. But by royal edict no priest was allowed to enter the house and no one else had the courage. So thus the house remained empty, although the ghost every night cried: "Release me! Release me!"

This had continued a long while, when an old soldier from the Wars came to the city, who, on hearing people speak of the house, said he would sleep a night in it, if a thousand gold pieces were given him beforehand. Belvor the King heard of this soldier's boast and summoned him to the palace. The old soldier said he feared neither goblin nor devil; for what his god protects is well protected. The king then said: "Give me thy hand as a pledge, and tell me with what I must provide thee." "Give me," said the soldier, "a good supply of wood cut small, a dozen bottles of wine, a bottle of brandy, and a pot full of dough, together with a good pan, that I may bake my cakes." "That thou shalt have," answered the king; and when the soldier had all he required, he went with it at nightfall into the house.

Having struck a light, he carried all his gear into a room on the first story, in which there still remained a table and two chairs, and then made a large fire on the hearth, by which he placed his dough, that it might rise a little. He next broke the necks off his bottles, and so did not long continue altogether sober, though he well knew what he said and did. Thirst being now succeeded by hunger, he took his pan, set it on the fire, and threw into it a good ladleful of dough. The cake promised well, smelt most temptingly, was already brown on one side, and the soldier was in the act of turning it, when something suddenly fell down the chimney into the pan, and the cake was in the ashes!

The soldier was not a little angry at the disaster, but reconciled himself to his fate and filled the pan anew. While the cake was baking, he looked at what had fallen down the chimney and found it was an arm-bone. At this the brave warrior began to laugh, and said: "You want to frighten me, but you won't do it with your arm bone." he then seized the pan, to take the cake out: but in the same instant a rattling was heard in the chimney, a number of bones fell into the pan, and the cake into the ashes.

"Now, by sweet voice," said he, "that is too bad. You ought to let me be, for I am hungry!" But every time he tried to bake his cake, one bone or another fell, and, at last, a skull, which the soldier hurled as far as he could send it. "Now the sport will end," said he, and began to bake, when a bell began to sound from a nearby temple. He counted; it was twelve. In the same instant he looked up, and saw that in the corner facing him the bones had united and stood there as a hideous skeleton with a white linen over its shoulders. The soldier called to it merrily: "Ha Sir Skeleton! How goes it? You are uncommonly thin. But come and eat and drink with me, provided the cake and wine will not fall through you." The skeleton made no answer, but merely pointed with its finger. "Well speak then," said he laughing; "but if not, then make yourself scarce." The skeleton continued pointing, but said nothing, and the soldier ate on leisurely, taking no further notice of its movements. The temple bells now struck half-past, and the skeleton striding out of its corner, approached the table. "Ah," cried the soldier, "say what you want, but keep at a distance, else we are no longer friends. I know the power of an undead touch." The skeleton made signs with its boney hands and pointed towards the door.

The soldier grew weary of this, took up his brandy and said: "Well, I'll go with you, do you only go first." The skeleton went first as far as the stairs, and made a sign to the soldier that he should go down; but he was prudent enough not to do so, saying: "Go you first, always first; you shall not break my neck." They thus descended into a passage, in which lay a heavy stone, having an iron ring in it. The ghost made a sign to him to raise the stone, but he laughed aloud and said: "If you want to lift up the stone, you must do it yourself." The ghost did so, and the soldier then saw that there was a great hole beneath it, in which stood three iron pots filled with coins. "Do you see that money?" said the skeleton. "Aha, you speak," cried the soldier, highly delighted, "that's capital. Yes, I see something that looks like gold."

"I was cursed while the treasure went unfound. You have released me, the treasure is yours." said the ghost. "A pretty fellow you!" said the soldier. "You first, down there and help me with the gold." The ghost reached out its hand and said: "I beseech you. Take the treasure before the bells ring again." "Much obliged all the same, no; I know you birds. I'll take your treasure, but you must fetch it for me." The ghost was silent for a moment, then jumped down into the hole beside the treasure. The soldier laughed and poured out his bottle of brandy atop the ghost. "Ho sprite-kin," cried he, "by the Laughing Rogue I bless you, may the wine of sleep put you to rest. Wander no more!" and with that the soldier slammed the stone lid shut upon the hole.

That morning the old soldier went to the king and collected his bounty. The ghost was heard no more. The paladin Torc who had failed to protect his king from the servants of Nerull was finally at peace. The soldier left Chendl that day and was never seen again.

Adapted from "The Bold Soldier of Antwerp" retold by Benjamin Thorpe

Minstrel Tales - In Chendl After The Siege



Minstrel Tales In Chendl After The Siege

In Chendl After The Siege

War came to Furyondy and found Chendl unprepared. A desperate confederation of knights and Highfolk bought the city time, but by the month of Reaping the orcs were at the gates and Chendl was besieged.

The swords of the orcs never reached most of the population, but the teeth and claws of hunger and despair were felt by all. Some fell, some in battle, many more to grief, but most resisted, and in resisting drew a hard strength that their enemies could not shatter or overcome.

During the slow night, shattering its iron darkness, the knight-commander used to say in a low voice: 'We will not give in. We are made of stone.'

But some within the city would say, 'the poisonous ring grows more narrow all the time, the enemy is still advancing; O city without hope or strength! The stones groan, the pavement-blocks gasp, those who perish lay down like soldiers in crowded graves.'

At last the enemy became exhausted; the clouded horizon cleared, and the burnt houses loomed black: they are dead that have not held out.

The knight-commander walks out among the streets and bridges and gazes at a little cloud, and the wind chills his eyes and lips. In a low voice he talks of what happened and what will happen. 'We have fought our way out of that long darkness and passed through a storm of fire. We are made of stone. No, we are stronger than stone: we are alive.'

From 'A Spring in Leningrad' by Margarita Aliger (with minor alterations for the Greyhawk campaign).

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Comprehend Languages

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Comprehend Languages

4). Comprehend Languages

Amedian - Koo'lwa Looga (Ku-El-Wa Lu-Ga)

Bakluni (Ancient) - Delere Anlamak (De-Le-Ri An-La-Mak)

Drow - Er'tato Nelven (Er-Te-To Ne-El-Ven)

Dwarven - Forsta Saipro (For-Sta Sa-Pro)

Elven - Immareta Kaelta (Im-Mar-Ta Ke-El-Ta)

Flan - Teingata (Te-An-Ga-Ta)

Fruz - Ski'a Tungamal (Skee-Ya Tun-Ga-Mal)

Giantish - Verstane (Ver-Sta-En)

Gnomish - Begrypen Tane (Be-Gri-Pen Ta-En)

Oeridian - Poneat Azikeah (Pon-At Az-Ek-Ah)

Olman - Molekeah Perintu (Mo-Li-Ka-Ya Per-In -Too)

Suel - Lingus Comprehendere (Le-Eng-Us Com-Pre-Hen-Der)

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Charm Person

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Charm Person

3). Charm Person

Amedian - M'Tu (Em-Tu)

Bakluni (Ancient) - Kekeklek KeSe (Kek-Ik-Lik Ki-See)

Drow - Varsa Zem'l (Var-Sa Se-Mel)

Dwarven - Cade Per (Ca-Da Pe-Re)

Elven - Haen Kelo (He-En Ki-Lo)

Flan - Daen (De-En)

Fruz - Hela Mae (He-La Ma)

Giantish - Care Per (Ca-Re Pe-Re)

Gnomish - Care Aryrzo (Ca-Re Re-Rez-O)

Oeridian - Obyana Keloveka (Ob-Ya-Ne Ke-Lo-Ve-Ka)

Olman - Al'k Nap'r (Al-Ak Na-Par)

Suel - Lapreme Peres (Le-Por-Em Per-Res)

Sunday, December 29, 2019

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Burning Hands


This helps me when I'm writing Greyhawk fiction but it also adds a little detail to the game. I like to have cards for each spell memorized and the player turns them in as he casts them. His spellbook is a deck of cards and he chooses which ones he memorizes from the deck including duplicates of spells. I have the spells vocal component written out at the top of the card in the language of the spellbook. Players in tournaments and long term campaigns seemed to like it.


Languages of Oerthly Magic - Burning Hands

2). Burning Hands

Amedian - Moto Mikono (Mo-To Me-Ko-No)

Bakluni (Ancient) - Eller Yan (El-Er An)

Drow - Kezeben Yg (Ke-Ze-Ben Eg)

Dwarven - Barende Haende (Bar-En-De Ha-En-De)

Elven - Potava Kaes (Pa-Ta-Va Ka-Is)

Flan - Lama Do (La-Ma Do)

Fruz - Breande Haende (Bre-An-De Ha-En-De)

Giantish - Brende Hade (Bre-An-De Ha-De)

Gnomish - Barende Haende (Bar-En-De Ha-En-De)

Oeridian - Zaen Ruke (Za-En Ruk)

Olman - Kayel Erem (Ka-Il Er-Em)

Suel - Arden Manus (Ar-Den Man-Us)

Minstrel Tales - Hextor's Song



A poem for the god Hextor originating, surprisingly, from a bard in the Shield Lands where a cult of Hextor honoring War has taken a foothold among the doughty warriors of that realm.


Hextor's Song

I sing the praise of honored wars,
The glory of well-gotten scars,
The bravery of glittering shields,
Of lusty hearts and famous fields;
For that is the music worthy of Hextor's ear,
A sight for kings, praise for the god to hear.

Great battles I do see
The grace of chivalry;
The colors are displayed,
The knighthood bright arrayed.
See now the battle's changed,
Arrows now thick are ranged.

Hark! Blood and wounds abound,
The drums alarum sound.
The captains cry
The trumpets sound.
Oh, this is the music worthy of Hextor's ear,
A sight for kings, praise for the god to hear.

(Altered from "The Soldier's Song")

The Lost Library of Q'Sh -2



The Lost Library of Q'Sh -2

3). This massively long portico is littered with debris.

Presently it is home to a small band of goblins who are camped close to the main door. There are 12 of them with a 13th, an archer, standing guard by the doors at location 2). Of the twelve the leader is a small but solid goblin armed with a spiked mace, armored in a fresh shirt of padded leather and bearing a medium shield. He is AC5 and 7HP and fights as a 1HD monster. In combat he kicks his more cowardly fellows forward but trusts his other companions to follow where he leads so he is usually in the middle of the small group, neither rushing into combat nor lingering behind.

2 Goblins have shortbows, short swords and leather armor. They are AC7 and 3HP each. and fight as 1-1 creatures. Each has 20 arrows in their quivers and will move one to each side of their compatriots and try for flanking shots against their enemies. If they run out of arrows they will draw their shortswords and attack.

9 Goblins have either a mace or shortsword. With either small or medium shields. They are 4HP, AC6 and fight as 1-1 creatures.

All goblins wear small helms.


The leader carries the spending money for his group. A pouch with 27gp, 52sp, 39cp. The inside of his helm has a cloth lining containing 5pp and 3 small gems worth 25gp, 20gp and 10gp.

The portico is a long marble porch with pillars and a screen made of rusted iron lattice that allows people to peak out but makes it difficult to see in. The shortwall around the portico is 4ft high with the lattice running another 15feet to the overhanging roof.

The eastern side of the porch is the goblins latrine and the west is where they cook their meals and sleep. A large iron pot is simmering over a fire when first found and inside is some nameless though edible stew. Three large wooden barrels are breached nearby. one is an almost empty barrel of water, one is full and the third is a three quarters empty barrel of a thick ale. A pint of which is mildly intoxicating, 5 pints will make an average imbiber fairly drunk and 10 pints will render them disgustingly bloto. There are 35 pints worth left in the barrel. A wooden bucket is floating in the barrel of ale.

A dozen and a half piles of animal skins and ragged cloth make up the goblins' bedding. The chief sleeps on an overturned wooden bench with a thick bearskin and a lumpy pillow. All the bedding is indescribably filthy and rank. If the common bedding is searched 3 daggers, 18gp, 72 sp and an empty ivory scroll tube (worth 10gp) will be found.

The chief's bedding has beneath it a large two-handed sword and a man-sized shirt of chainmail. In the pillow is a fine cloak with a gold ruby-set pin. The pin radiates magic faintly and allows the wearer to speak with roses (and only roses) once a day if they know the command word. To the right buyer it is worth 200gp.

The doors to Location 6). have been smashed open and only fragmens of wood still dangle from the hinges.

The doors to location five are 10feet wide and 15feet high. They are unlocked but slightly warped. They open outward and it takes a combined strength of 30 to open them. Unfortunately the pull rings that were set in the door are missing and some means of grasping the door will need to be devised (which shouldn't be hard as a stout rope nailed to them with iron spikes should do the job).

3.1). This secret door defies natural detection and a search of the wall will reveal it with a -4 modifier to the attempt (it is really well-made). There is no latch or mechanism to open it from this side of the door. It is constructed of 1ft thick stone blocks, about half the thickness of the outer wall and opens by being raised into the ceiling by a counterweight that is released from location 8).

4). There is a mosaic here of an old man in robes holding a book with raised text. If three of the letters of the text are pressed simultaneously a latch will click and the door can be opened outward. Inside is a long hall. There are 2 sconces on each wall set about 10ft apart with the stubs of burned out torches and a stairway leading down to dungeon level 1.

Ghosts of Saltmarsh - Secrets and Lies part 2





Ghosts of Saltmarsh - Secrets and Lies

Gerrin Copperhands - Dwarf Warrior
Ashtamit (Ash) - Magic-user
Berren (Bear) - Wood Elf, Ranger
Oriane (Ory) - Thief
Coal - Raven
The Wicker Goat - Inn
Manistrad Copperlocks - Dwarf
Helfrid - Dwarf Miner
Tob - Dwarf Miner



Ghosts of Saltmarsh - Secrets and Lies part 2

The day was surprisingly cold and wet. The small band of adventurers had enjoyed fair weather when they had made their way to Saltmarsh. Only Berren had been to the town before as his clan of wood elves hailed from within the Silverstand, a wood above the town of Burle, and was something of a local as compared to his companions.

Gerrin's family was from the Little Hills where they had substantial holdings in the many mines as well as an important role as leaders in the dwarven towns and settlements in the area. Ory and Ash were both from more distant realms. Ash from Ket and Ory originally from the city of Greyhawk. She had crossed daggers with the Thieves' Guild and was told by friends to make herself scarce and that she had done taking the first ship she could find. It left her in Keoland and from there she had found her new companions while leaving her past behind.

Now the four, with Ash's companion, the raven Coal, and their donkey Two-Ear, and a pair of stout dwarven miners that Gerrin's cousin had sent with them as both guides and guards, were on a bare road east of town rising up the rocky coast. Below the road was a growing cliff as they ascended. At its base the waves churned and crashed against slicked and beslimed boulders while the sea was grey and cold rolling toward shore in unending lines.

A chill wind made Ash shiver and she crinkled her nose at the briny stink of the water. "This smells worse than the town."

Ory laughed, "You should smell the docks of the River Quarter back in the City. Or worse the Slum Quarter on a hot day."

"Greyhawk," Ash shook her head, "I haven't had the pleasure."

"Here it is," spoke up Helfrid, one of the dwarven guides leading them.

The road had steepend and twisted but now they could see a dilapitated roof appearing on the height of the rocky prominence at the end of the road. The house then revealed itself as they approached, its windows boarded and broken, a great hole in the roof with a skeleton framework of beams showing where parts of wall and ceiling were gone.

A broken wall of man height circled the house, its top edge fractured and missing stones while several small sections had completely tumbled to the ground. A pair of iron gates, open and swaying slightly in the sudden gusts, lay at the end of the road . They creaked and clanked as they moved and offered the final touch to the growing feel of lurking evil that eminated from the house.

"Well this a pleasant little dwelling," commented Berren.

"Haunted, if we can believe that old poacher from last night," added Ory with a straight face.

"Bear," asked Gerrin, "What was it at the end, Orcus and demons?"

Berren laugher, "I could believe the ghosts and skeletons. The vampire and were-rats were pushing things, but he left me unconvinced about Orcus and the demons."

"He'd be washing Orcus' dishes if that were true," laughed Gerrin.

The pair of dwarven miners, Helfrid and Tob exchanged glances at the merriment of the others. 

"There is something not-right about this place..." Tob said in a quiet, deep voice.

Gerrin reached out and gripped Tob's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Might be," he said. "We will not take its grim appearance for granted nor disregard your warnings."

"Before we enter these welcoming gates I will have Coal fly above and see what he can see," said Ash. She put her arm  to her shoulder and the raven stepped to her forearm. "Fly Coal,"she said.

"Yes, mistress," said the raven and he launched himself into the air.

***

The old house was surounded by a stone wall. Near the gate a rosebush had gone wild. It climbed the wall for some distance and ate the overgrown yard in cascade of thorns and branches green with life. 

The yard had once been a garden but now it was wild. Weeds fought with overgrown patches of herbs and vegitables. A large, covered well was to the sea-facing side of the house and the wild plants were waist-high around it. Things scurried beneath the bushes and the weeds that not even the raven's sharp-eye could see, but saw their movements. 

Coal flew higher so that the entire house and yard shrank into a round spot set on the rock strewn rectangle of cliff top that held few plants but many stones. He dropped down over the roof, tiles missing, small gaps, beams exposed, and then over the great hole in the roof. 

The hole shows a flooring sagging with rot and covered in mold but little else and Coal spirals down to circle the upper floor seeing windows roughly boarded with driftwood and darkness between them. A movement catches his eye, some flicker that sparkles in the dim light sneaking through the places where the boards do not meet and then it is gone.

With a sharp cry Coal turns and flys to his mistress where she stands with the others before the iron gates.

Minstrel Tales - Over the Javan

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Minstrel Tales - Over the Javan

Here is a song popular among the soldiers of the Gran March.

Over the Javan the wet wind blows.
I've lice in my tunic 
And a cold 
In my Nose

The rain comes pattering
Out of the sky; 
I serve the Gran March but
I don't know why

The mist creeps over Hochoch's
Grey stone;
My girl's in Hookhill and I sleep
All alone.

My cousin is always hanging 
Around her Pa's place;
I don't like his manners 
And I don't like his face.

Captain's a Pholtite, He worships
A light;
He says to forget her; I say it
Ain't right.

She gave me a ring but I diced
it away;
But I want my girl back and I don't 
Want to stay

Over the Javan where the wet wind
Does blow;
Where I'm cold and Im lonesome
And feeling so low.


Baulderized from 'Over the Heather'
By W, H, Auden 

Saturday, December 28, 2019

Languages of Oerthly Magic - Affect Normal Fires

This ws a project I was working to list all the vocal elements for spells. It was a certain level of detail that I had starting getting into when I began writing stories about Greyhawk but it also helped with game-play in giving magic-users something to do other than just saying they cast magic missile; I had have them say the vocal component of the spell.


Languages of Oerthly Magic - Affect Normal Fires

1). Affect Normal Fires

Amedian - Kutire Moto A Kaed (Ku-Tir -Ee Mo-To A Ka-Ed)

Bakluni (Ancient) - Angenlare Etkill (An-Gen-La-Ri Et-Kil)

Drow - Befola Sol Tuzek (Be-Fol-A Sol Tu-Zek)

Dwarven - Paver Barde (Pa-Vir-Ka Bar-De)

Elven - Vaketta Tulpall (Va-Ket- Ta Tul-Pal)

Flan - Defare Tintanat (Di-Far Tin-Te Nat)

Fruz - Ar Ae Elelga Elde (Ar A El-Il-Ga El-Da)

Giantish - Yswerkan Barde (Us-Vir-Ken Bar-De)

Gnomish - Envode Barde (In-Vod Bar-De)

Oeridian - Veat Porove (Vi-At Po-Rov)

Olman - Catraba Ti Patikkum (Ca-Ta-Ra-Na Ti Pa-Tik-Kum)

Suel - Igne C'Da Ef (Ig-Ne See-Da Af)

I think Ive worked out my language equivalents if anyone wants to work up some of these for themselves. 

Amedian - Swahili
Bakluni (Ancient) - Turkish
Drow - Magyar
Dwarven - Danish
Elven - Finnish
Flan - Irish
Fruz - Icelandic
Giantish - German
Gnomish - Dutch
Oeridian - Russian
Olman - Tamil
Suel - Latin

These are just the base for the very slightly altered languages. It helps me a great deal in fiction but it is also helpful DMing and adds a good reason to have a comprehend languages spell on hand. I chose them with a few ideas in mind. The Suel always remind me of ancient Rome so Latin. The giants, dwarves, fruz, and gnomes always feel linked to me. Elves and Drow should have some link but strained over the centuries that have separated them so Finnish and Magyar.

Inspirational Additions - LeiberHawk or Ill Met in Greyhawk



I recently received a copy of Goodman Games Lankhmar set and their approach to the city has been my approach for the last 20 or so years so their city setting book is perfect. While I am a confirned Gygaxian I also mix my Greyhawk with a great deal of Lovecraftian Mythos and my City of Greyhawk with my interests as a Leibertologist (Perhaps Lankhmarologist would be a better term as I am primarily interested in that large sub-set of Leiber's work). When I think of the City of Greyhawk I think of Lankhmar (and I suspect Gygax was thinking along those lines as well).

A recent topic on the GreyhawkOnline Discord general chat was about the cosmology of the Greyhawk campaign. Ive never particularly cared for what has been presented so one look at the cosomolgy created by Leiber for Nehwon and I was in. The DCC Lankhmar boxed set with its 44page booklet is a great starting place for the City of Greyhawk and that is what I will be expanding upon as well as resurrecting from my old campaigns with hopefully more detail, direction and consistent updates. I like projects so this will be my LeiberHawk project.

Years ago I started working with Gygax's City of Hawks map and realized it was unbelievably vast and at the time I thought of trimming it down, but now I realize I want unrealism in my City of Greyhawk. Its stated population 53,000 (I believe) is too small. The City is as big as I need it to be, but certainly at least ten times that size (and the fields and villages that surround the city to feed this massive population are numberless). The City of Greyhawk is a campaign world unto itself (and dear Lankhmar, is the campaign known as Nehwon? It is Lankhmar that first draws the imagination and mugs it in some darkened alley).

Now my plans are to delve back into Leiber and the new DCC material and the old TSR super-sized book on the city. I haven\t forgotten Gygax and the Leiber or Lankhmarization of the City is part of my hope to recapture and enhance what Gygax presented in Saga of Old City and City of Hawks rather than alter it to fit Leiber's writing. Fafhrd and Mouser will not be appearing, at least not yet.

Story - Ghosts of Saltmarsh - Secrets and Lies Part 1



Ghosts of Saltmarsh - Secrets and Lies

Gerrin Copperhands was broadshoulderd and barrel-chested. His short legs were like pillars holding up his heavy torso. His beard was long and full but his head bald and circled by a thick ring of hair above his ears and the back of his neck. He was a dwarf, and a dwarven warrior at that. A chain shirt covered him to his waist and set beside his chair was a huge double-headed war-axe.

"The Wicker Goat," Ashtamit gave a quiet laugh.

"Listen Ash..." began Gerrin but he was interrupted by the appearance of Berren and Oriane carrying four full mugs of ale.

"So this is your cousin's place," said Oriane as she set two mugs on the scarred wooden table stained with years of spilled ale. Oriane was red-haired and slim, dressed in leather armor, a short sword sheathed at her side and three throwing knives sheathed to the belt on her opposite hip.

"No, never said that," Gerrin shook his head as he replied, one hand reaching for a mug of ale as he spoke.

Berren set his two mugs down lightly with typical elven delacacy. He was a Wood Elf, dark-haired, beardless and fair. His longbow and quiver of arrows were set against his chair and he put his hand to his bow as he sat.

"It is where she stays," Gerrin explained, "or the mines, but we're meeting her here."

Oriane groaned, "So no free room and board then."

Gerrin's mouth was full of ale and he swallowed it with a long drawn-out series of gulps followed by an indraw of air then a pleased smack of his lips. "Sadly no, fair Ory."

"So when will she be here?" Ash asked as she ran a finger around the lip of her mug. She raised a dark eyebrow at the dwarf. Ashtamit was extrordinarily beautiful. A stout wooden staff with a carved and notted head she had set against her shoulder.

Berren sat next to her and put an affectionate arm on her shoulder. She leaned toward him and the kissed in a long and lingering way.

Gerrin gave a snort and shook his head at the pair.

"Wait," Ory exclaimed quietly. "Is this her?"

From their table they could see the stairs to the second floor. Down the steps came a dwarven woman. Her auburn hair was thick and braided, her shoulders broad, her waist thick with muscle, full-breasted and strong-limbed. Gerrin had said she was once a warrior of his clan and she looked formidable still, if unarmed and unarmored.

"That is her," Gerrin leapt to his feet and gave a quick march to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. "Cousin!" he exclaimed loudly.

A half-smile formed on her lips thaty was instantly turned into a scowl. "Don't Cousin me you coal-stealer," she said and wrapped him in an crushing embrace.

The pair walked arm and arm to the table. Gerrin dropped into his chair and faced his cousin, as did his three companions.

Gerrin's cousin looked them over then leaned forward, her hands braced against the table-edge. "I'm Manistrad Copperlocks and I have a job for you. I need you to explore a haunted house."

Adventure (Seed) - The Hunt for Delos Quinn



The Hunt for Delos Quinn

The Duke of Geoff sends his bailiffs after the notorious thief and highwayman Delos Quinn.

Ganiff Breithem leads his men through the Dim Forest in pursuit of Delos Quinn who escaped from the cells beneath Heartstone Keep the day before his execution. The party consists of two local foresters as trackers and half a dozen armed baliffs. The foresters are father and son, the father an experienced woodsmen and archer while his son is still learning the trade. Ganiff's men are veterans of both melee and brawl, but none, not even Ganiff himself, are well versed in the use of the bow.

Delos on the otherhand is not a woodsman but knows his way around the crossbow, which three of his compatriots have provided for him. The four have set an ambush just within the entrance to a small glade where the ground rises and a spring near the top feeds a small waterfall and pond.

Unbeknowest to them all a band of Gnolls has set up camp in a small valley only a half-mile distant and have prepared an ambush of their own for Quinn and his companions, but are not expecting the arrival of Ganiff. As the net of gnollish attackers closes around Quinn the party led by Ganiff enounters the surrounding gnolls but from behind. Quinn circled by gnolls. Gnolls surprised by Ganiff. Fun ensues.

Friday, December 27, 2019

Adventure (Seed) - The Body in the Road




The Body in the Road

The forest path is still; even the rustling of the trees has fallen silent. The light is cut into patterns as it shines down between leaf and leaf, and shadows hide behind the tall boles. Ahead, where the path turns, a dull shape in greens and browns is stretched, long and still, in the dirt.

A man, recently dead, but without sign of wound or blood. An archer, woodsman, perhaps outlaw, or ranger. His bow is nowhere to be found, but a quiver of gray fletched arrows is on his back and a short sword is drawn beneath him, though there is no sheath upon his belt. His clothes are died green, his belt and long-laced soft-soled boots are brown. He bears no pouch or purse. Has no coin or pack. He wears a green leather helm; beneath, his hair is black as is his beard, his eyes blue.

Here is a mystery, a death. Here also is trouble without a doubt.

The Menowood, once known as a peaceful safe-haven, has grown dangerous as the elven rangers and druids which once maintained this safety have seemingly withdrawn. The Council of the Hollow Highlands, a coalition of human, dwarves and gnomes from several towns and villages, has hired the adventurers to find out what has happened to the elves and, in any case, put down the problems which seem to be arising from the woods, such as brigands, trolls, cultists, were-wolves and angry trees, if reports can be believed.

The body in the road is the first sign of trouble they encounter, but will not be the last.

Historical - Dwarf versus Suel - The Death of Haladin Man-Slayer



The Death of Haladin Man-Slayer

Haladin Man-Slayer is carried through the halls of the great mountain fortress of Daradim to be laid to rest in the tomb of his ancestors deep beneath the earth.

In ancient times of the Flanaess' history nothing has proven as grim and costly as the wars between man and dwarf. Perhaps it was the expansion of the Suel into the mountains and valleys of the north-east or maybe it was the dwarven lust for gold and the slaughter of the human miners at Ten-River Gorge, the depredations and atrocities were many, but however it began seven years of grueling and merciless combat soon came to an end with the death of Haladin Man-Slayer, greatest of dwarven heroes in this by-gone age of the world.

Haladin was a mighty warrior even though he was a little over a century old. Unlike many of his brethren he'd left the mountains and visited his cousins in the lowland kingdoms of the Flanaess and there he had earned his sobriquet. His contact with human-kind had not gone well to say the least. Hostile Flan tribesmen, arrogant Suel merchants and slavers, brigands of no fixed lineage. Haladin's first reaction was the axe and though these men were tall to a stout mountain dwarf they were cut down to size in these encounters and Haladin's dislike of humans grew.

Many of the great dwarven mountain kingdoms had been lost and destroyed over the centuries to giants, dragons, even terrors from beneath the oerth and it seemed that the once powerful dwarves were on the wane while the quick breeding human and goblin-kind were appearing everywhere like mold on an old bread-loaf. Eventually the expanding Suel Republic looked toward the northern mountains for more ore for their weapons and devices and treasure for their decorations and coffers. First came their engineers and scouts, then the miners and with them small towns and warriors to guard them. Haladin, now a war-leader had had enough when the reports came in of the mine, outpst and small mine-town opened in Ten-River Gorge only a scant few leagues from Daradim the ancient fortress-town under his care.

The dwarves came in a great number, warriors and weapon-priests, the humans were mostly miners and a great many slaves and merchants who set-up a small town to buy and sell from the miners. The Suel military outpost was small. Ten-River Gorge was a great victory for the dwarves and a massacre according to the Suel. Not even the slaves were spared though the dwarves kept the mine working and sent the ore back to Daradim.

When the ore stopped coming and supply caravans never returned the Suel sent out scouts and then a small army and the first real battle between Haladin and the Suel Republic began.

A battle in the mountains against a dwarves with their fortress-city nearby had only one conclusion but some Suel warriors managed to escape and returned with a larger army that included battle-mages and warrior-priests of their own. Haladin was driven back and lost the mine at Ten-River Gorge. Monsters of great power were brought against him, elemental fought elemental and collapsed the mine, choked the Ten-Rivers, tossed man and dwarf from the mountains passes in great gusts of wind, burnt the stone, burnt flesh and bone as the elemental planes were unopened and their denizens called forth.

It was the Suel and the great skill at magic that pushed Haladin back into Daradim, The great gateways were collapsed to stop the invaders, Suel warriors and allied monstrosities died in droves, but Daradim was besieged and the land beyond the fortress was now held by the Suel. Still the fortress seemed impregnable till the power of the greatest of the Suel mages was brought against it. An army of monsters from the UnderOerth assailed them, hundreds of Umber Hulks drawn to a gem created by the Suel Grand Wizard brought them beneath the fortress and a charm deep within the gem's facets mesmerized them. The Umber Hulks cut there way into the bowels of the fortress city and their in a great unlighted cavern Haladin and his warriors met them. With death all about him the dwarven champion cut his way toward the gem and destroyed it and the Suel arch-mage at the cost of his own life. 

The Suel were broken but the Daradim was riddled with tunnels from below infested first with Umber Hulks then other creatures of the UnderOerth.  Within a century Daradim was abandoned and later forgotten except in the legends of the dwarves and old records of the Suel Imperium that somehow escaped the Empires destruction.

Thursday, December 26, 2019

NPC - Svelor of the Golden Shield



Svelor of the Golden Shield

The Empire of the Winged Serpent is old; older than humankind. It has never truly fallen but the ages of its might have passed. Its wars against the Elder Things that fell from the stars, the Children of the Sea, the Iron Beasts and the Ageless Dark are legends even among the deathless rulers who slither among the great halls and chambers of its half-ruined temples and palaces. But too many of the true race have fallen, too few purebloods (called Abominations but outsiders) are born and the time of madness and breeding rarely happens among the race of snakemen who pulled themselves from the primordial swamps of eons long forgotten. Now the Empire is populated by half-breeds and near-humanoids in great number.

Svelor is the champion of his race. He bears the Golden Shield of the protector, a potent item of science and magic that warps those who would strike at him till their very strength twists them into parodies of himself, the Snakemen's Bastards (Half-breeds and the Near) who serve the bearer of the shield even against their own kindred he should choose. His Sword is also golden, a strong curving blade, enchanted to sever arms or heads at swing, but still weighing so much that no normal human could hope to swing it. His crown is his armor, enchanted, offering his body more protection than any mundane suit of plate. Svelor moves with a grace and suppleness that belie his massive size. He towers on his belly half again as high as a man. On his shoulders are the Graces of the Sun; spiked and padded on the golden metal that rested on the skin of the first emperor. They give him strength and heal his flesh so that wearing them, Svelor can never truly die.

The capital of the Empire is much further south than the recently discovered Forbidden City and many are the outposts, dwelling places and other ruins of the ancient empire that will be encountered before reaching the Palace of the Sun, Mirrador where Svelor dwells and the last vestage of the might of the Yuan Ti resides.

Required Readinng - Greyhawk Musings



https://davidleonard-greyhawkmusings.blogspot.com/

If you haven't read David Leonard's Greyhawk History-Timeline or joined his Greyhawk Musings blog you are missing out on a fantastic and enjoyable resource. I'm handing out copies to my 2020 players who are all 5e newbies to Greyhawk. 

I think anyone who enjoys my Greyhawk-centric blog would enjoy David's (link above under the picture) and I hope everyone will check it out.

Adventure (Seed) - The Smiling Dead



The Smiling Dead

Yohan Fustyvant of the Yeomanry was a hedge wizard all his life but a devotee of the duplicitous Syrul during his last few months. While most other half-amateur practioners in the mystical arts were often as dangerous as they were ineffectual, Fustyvant became a master of the dental craft. His own teeth were his pride and joy.

During his life he collected lore on herbs and potions that would fight tooth decay, alleviate pain, and leave breath minty and fresh. His extractions were truly painless and his animated wooden dentures never left splinters, bit the user's tongue or seized control of the wearer's body for nefarious purposes.

As the years passed he became renowned, sought after and exceedingly wealthy, but he could not protect himself from the wear and diminishment of time, nor could he master the greatest of dental magic and regrow teeth, not even his own. He turned, in the end, to the toothy grin of Syrul, and as with all pacts made with the eternal trickster, his own desires became his undoing.

While searching for elusive herbs along the borders of the High Crags he came upon an ancient shrine so old it seemed to predate the Suel Imperium. The deity depicted was of strong physical characteristics and had the best sculpted teeth Yohan had ever seen. Among the overgrown and half-ruined shrine he found an amulet with the grinning face of the unknown deity (Syrul) which he kept as a token and a talisman, not realizing he had peeked the interest of a malivolent and duplicitous God.

In desperation in his declining years he began to pray to the carved toothy  features on the amulet and one day he received an answer, The talisman spoke and offered him the answer to his prayers if Yohan would show his devotion. Each day he sacrificed and each day his teeth became a little fuller, a bit more white and shiny. Unfortunately they just wouldn't stop. He begged Syrul, made greater and greater sacrifices but each day now he gnawed and gnawed to wear down his teeth, took to the file and in the end extracted them with his own hands, only to find the process of regrowth begin again. In pain and torment and shame he took his own life at the lost and half-ruined shrine.

Yohan Fustyvant's teeth are now forever strong and sharp. In undeath he gnaws at the living, infecting all those he slays with his toothy curse. His ghoulish progeny can be recognized by their perfect teeth which shine with a pearly light in the dark of tomb, catacomb or grave.

Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Adventure - The Black Pyramid of Skalesh



The Black Pyramid of Skalesh

In the Littlemark the Border Companies scout the mountains of the Barrier Peaks for incursions of humanoid tribes as their compatriots keep watch on the northern border with Ket and spar with the Kettish Horse Guards along their side of the border. Avar Toth is an experienced scout among the Bisselite rangers who watch the mountain passes. For more than a week he has tracked a strange band of goblins who raided into Bissel and then suddenly retreated back through a fresh pathway that had recently been opened after an avalanche of stone brought down previously unpassable cliffs. What he found has turned him back toward human lands to warn of what he has seen.

Within the well-named Barrier Peaks he found a mountain carved into the shape of a pyramid, carved from black stone and swarming with a community of strange goblins. These are the Kazpek goblins; strangely civilized, unusually strong and squat of build. These goblins bred with the decadent remnants of a dwarven kingdom and the black pyramid, once a vast dwarven fortress lost so long ago that even the memory of its name has been forgotten.

Deep within the pyramid is the body of their God-Priest Skalesh, last of the line of Dwarven Kings, a monstrous combination of dwarf, goblin and daemon and his porgeny who he consumes to fuel his existence stretched further than any mortal should be allowed. 
His pyramid-mountain sinks its dark roots into the UnderOerth and their he has warred with the Drow, the Kuo-Toa, the Deep Gnomes for centuries but he controls little more of the UnderOerth than he does of the upper realm. Now, after the great avalanche and collapse of the barrier cliffs, he has a way open toward the human lands of Bissel and then the Flanaess. His eye is toward extending his domain and his scouts are but the tip of a spear pointed east into the heart of Bissel.