Under the Skin - Two Church Assassins

The Worm of God, virtue name: Insight

Angels become stranger and more difficult to relate to the longer they live. Eventually their attachment to humanoid puppet-bodies diminishes, and unique preferences begin to assert themselves.

Its name is a secret in the church, and those that discover it and then speak it become host to the worm. This begins in the blood: formerly disconnected cells slowly begin to accrete, to pattern themselves. Eventually the worm instantiates itself somewhere in the vascular system. It exits the body in the kindest and least painful way that it can, and then begins to sing the hymns of God. Each new utterance of the name begets another worm inside the body. It takes them a few days to exit from the veins, so if you don't know that you're doing this when you say it, you will probably die.

The worms are blood red, wet, about 10cm long, and have 'heads' that bifurcate. Somewhere inside this simple mouth-part is a resonating membrane that they can tune to different drone frequencies. They sit up on their tails and sing, forever. They are tended by priests in a hidden praise garden somewhere underneath one of the great cathedrals in the capital. You can feed them with blood. They start to scream (a high-pitched, discordant, distorted noise) when they get hungry or dehydrated.

There are thousands of worms in the garden. Very occasionally they will work together to communicate with their priest attendants, using their thousands of voices to approximate speech, and make known the will of the ancient angel whose body they comprise. 

The method of assassination is actually one of the most straight forward - a piece of paper is sent to the victim, printed over and over and over again with the secret name of the angel. Nine times out of ten, the target will read the name out loud, not knowing what they do. Priests come to collect the singing worms in the aftermath. 

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The Divine Aeronaut, virtue name: Contingency

By now a very old man, but still smiling and laughing, still fit and strong and limber. He keeps his grey head cropped and shaven. He wears a thick leather flight suit and glass goggles over his priest's vestments, and when he kills people he usually does it with a rifle, from a distance, before swooping in to take the head with his hacksaw.

The flying machine was built by him during an extended trance-vision many decades ago. It is the only one of its type in existence, and all attempts at remaking it have failed. It is a bit like a wooden armature build around a human body, with large wings of lacquered paper stretched between wooden struts. When he began his work for the church he mostly used it to glide from tall buildings, or to cover long distances quickly. These days his facility with the harness lets him fly more like a swallow, flitting between buildings, vertical take offs, flying out of the sun. When he walks it is with a slight limp, and a slight hunch - he is an old man after all - but when he flies he laughs with joy and his face looks young again. 

HD4, light armour, Flying Armature, Rifled Musket, hammer, hacksaw, buckler, speed: as old man, flight speed: as eagle, disposition: absolute zealot without any fear of death.

Flying Armature: A baroque Leonardo da Vinci style flying machine, heavier than air and strapped to the limbs, that allows The Aeronaut to fly literally like a bird. It does not make physical sense, and the functioning obviously includes some sort of angel or entity somewhere. Officially, it is a miracle of the church, and completely the property of its sainted owner. Only someone else with genuinely unshakeable faith can make use of it, and without decades of practice it will allow flight as a hang glider at best. If you can get it working it can carry the combined weight of two people and 30 slots of equipment while gliding. Unlike most gliders, the Flying Armature can gain altitude on its own, and so can be used to fly indefinitely (although unlike the Divine Aeronaut, you won't be able to vertically take off in it). If it crashes for any reason it is ruined forever, and can never be rebuilt.

Rifled Musket: Another relic of the church, and has the hunting name SUSPENDED IN LIGHT. Stats as a musket with twice normal range, and a larger-than-usual bore giving it 2d10 damage. Elaborate sights and exquisite craftsmanship give +3 to hit and damage rolls in the hands of the Divine Aeronaut, and +1 to anyone else. 

Elder Killer: Rolls melee attacks and damage at -1, and takes +1 damage from all physical sources. Has +1 expanded crit range on all attacks. Moves totally silently when he wants to. Encyclopedic knowledge of scripture, medicine, and the true history of the church.  

The Divine Aeronaut will spend his free days flying as high as he can in the kind light of the sun, which he associates with the goodness of God. 

If he is trying to kill you, he will use the Flying Armature to take a good shooting position, then try to kill you using SUSPENDED IN LIGHT. If you have shooters of your own, he will shift position after each shot. He can fight pretty well with the hammer he keeps on his belt, but it is not his preferred mode. If you are his God-given target, he will always come to your corpse in the aftermath to take your head with the hacksaw, such that he can show his work to the accounting angels who wait for his return. For this reason, a crit against his target never denotes a headshot - usually he will aim for vitals, the heart or spinal column if he can.

Hunter-Killer

A single monster derived from discussion in the purple server, because my brain is a fog of nothing interesting at the moment.

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Hunter-Killers are large (like 8 foot long) weasels, about as strong as a bear. They are so-named because lords, merchants, criminals, and other worthies sometimes train them as attack and hunting animals. They are infamously good at getting into houses, castles, and strongholds thought secure, where their ferocity will make short work of unready foes. They are not intelligent in any general sense, but they can be sicced on enemies, or released in a feral state to tear whatever they find to pieces. 

Hunter-Killer

HD3, unarmoured, bite (d8!, crit range +1), speed 3x human, disposition in the wild: territorial predator, will retreat if seriously wounded, unless you are a threat to its young. Disposition if trained: attack dog, will keep biting until it is killed. 

Hunter-Killers have sharp, hard, ripping canines, powerful jaws, and instinctually attack weak points like the throat and groin. A Hunter Killer's bite attack damage explodes on maximum damage roles. 

A Hunter-Killer can fit through any gap the size of its head, which is about the size of a human's. They move completely silently, and can smell living prey within 50ft, and blood within 200ft. 

Once they have subdued or killed something they usually drink the blood from the corpse, leaving horrible, drained cadavers that will betray their presence to anyone familiar with them. 

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Significantly informed by the way, way scarier version made from the corpses of dismembered teenagers in this (excellent) book. 

GLOG class - Harpooner

 

The Harpooners are to the islanders of the Lantern Berth roughly what the Errants are to the Nomads, or the Mercenaries are to the Barony. They are a class of warriors, not aristocratic (it is traditionally orphans that are instructed in the trade), but respected and thought to embody the most important attributes of their society. For the islanders, these attributes are: directness, discretion, composure, and the strength and skill required to kill monsters.

The Harpooners are something like a fighters cult, and they have both public-facing and unseen duties. They work professionally aboard the whaling boats, and they are indispensable in that role, but they are also relied on to settle disputes in their communities. At sea, they submit themselves to the authority of the captain, and so are humbled; but they are the captain's killing arm and steady executor. They kill monsters - what matter the tired conflicts of humans? Make a decision and move on. If they rule that another islander is deserving of corporal punishment, death, maiming, or exile, then their charge is brought before the magistrates, but for disputes of lower importance, and especially those around money and debts, the rulings of a Harpooner are considered sufficient. 

Harpooners have other duties. It is well known that they hunt and kill criminals who evade the court's justice. It is equally well known that they kill troublemakers from outside the island, although everyone will feign ignorance of this. They also keep tabs on the bands of relic-hunters who venture into the Old Capital ruins (often by accompanying them on their expeditions), and make sure that they do not dig too deep, or disturb anything that they shouldn't.

HARPOONER

Gear: harpoon, 50ft of hemp rope, silk cord, waterproof pouch (fits 1 inventory worth of gear), light knife, medium machete. One roll on the special gear table.

Skills: sailing, and one of: carpentry, scrimshawing, singing, literature.

A Sailor, Slayer
B Killing Arm
C Eater of the Dead
D Psychopomp

Sailor: While unarmoured, you swim and climb twice as fast as a normal human, hold your breath for twice as long, and can leap twice as far, vertically and horizontally. You can choose to completely ignore pain in your hands. You can tell your position and facing by the stars or by the position of the sun. You can predict the weather accurately within six hours.

Slayer: When throwing a harpoon, you roll with +[templates] to hit and to damage. Every turn spent doing nothing but steadying your aim, to a maximum of [templates], increases your crit range by 2. While unarmoured you move completely silently. If attacking someone unaware of your presence, you may stop them from making any noise for [templates] rounds of combat. You take -1 fear damage from all sources

Killing Arm: Your crits now do 4x damage instead of 2x, and if a foe has any rules about weak spots or location damage, your crits always count as having hit them. Your crit range increases by one for each of the following your target has been convicted of by a magistrate: murder, rape, kidnapping, poisoning, kinslaying, arson, sabotage of a boat, stockpiling of food or wealth in times of famine or economic hardship. If you kill a foe in a single blow, your enemies must test morale.

Eater of the Dead: For each of the following corpses that you completely consume, you gain +1 max HP (to a maximum of 20): another PC with at least as many templates as you; another Harpooner with at least as many templates as you; a murderer sentenced to death in a court of law; any monster larger than a human, with at least 8HD. You take half damage from poison, radiation, and chemical burns.

Psychopomp: You may judge a criminal's innocence or guilt at your sole discretion. You yourself are immune to all laws (others do not know this unless they can see your soul somehow), and also to fear damage. At 5, 10, 15, and 20 max HP gains from your Eater of the Dead template, you add +1 to your STR, DEX, and CON scores, which can take you past 18.

Special Gear

1. d3 Iron Grenades. They are designed to be thrown into the sea, but work just as well on land. Crude mechanical fuse is inbuilt, and will be a dud 1 time in 3. 2d6 damage to uncovered targets within 30ft. 1 slot
2. d6 Chemical Flares. Small rockets wrapped in red wax paper. Ignite with any flame, and it will fire straight upwards and illuminate a wide area. Export of the White City. You don't know what colour you'll get until you fire it. 1 slot
3. Imperial Jelly Stinger-Knife. Recently harvested. As a knife that does 1 damage, but injects a poison that does an additional 2d8 if the target fails a CON save. Poison is potent for another 7-d3 days. 1 slot
4. 15 days of dehydrated dry rations in waterproof wrapping. 1 slot
5. A list of the names of 8 condemned murderers. 4 live on the island, 4 in the Barony. no slots. 
6. An ancient and beautiful pistol, with a handle of carved whalebone. It is loaded. 1 slot.

Harpoon: as a javelin, securely attached to 50 feet of rope. When you throw it, and it hits, it will lodge securely into the hide of beasts. 

Silk Cord: can only be used on humanoid enemies unaware of your presence. If you hit with it you also automatically grapple your opponent and deal d8 damage - for each turn the grapple remains unbroken, you do another d8.

Like this (before they start growing huge and weird).

Whalers, Slayers

 Slavers Throwing Overboard the Dead and the Dying, Turner, 1840

The people of the Lantern Berth are fishers and sea people. They are unafraid to sail in open water, unlike the settled societies of the mainland. The red and dreaming sunlight does not get inside them so much - or perhaps they are already full of it and can be lead no further into its strange seemings. They swim naked in the sea year round, and harvest food, strong strands of kelp, and other needful things from the reefs that cover the shallows close by their home. They also hunt the monsters that live in the deeper places, mostly whales, but also serpents and demon-fish. They do this in small boats, by hand, with harpoons, broad-bladed lances, cudgels, and long machetes, and they eat the meat of the titanic corpses that they leave in their wake. The transition into adulthood is linked to the hunting of monsters, although not in any way that is straightforward of measurable to an outsider. When they call you 'friend', it means 'someone who I can trust in the small boat'. This doesn't come easily.  

An Islander whaling party will consist of 2d3 small boats, each manned by d3+4 Hunters, a Harpooner, and a Hunter-Captain. 1 in 2 chance that each small boat will include a Youngblood on their first hunt.

Each small boat will have 10 harpoons attached to floats, and 5 lances in the hold. These are communal weapons, taken up by whoever needs them in the moment. It will also have 30 rations, bandages and alcohol, d4 iron grenades, and a 1 in 2 chance of a single dose of antiseptic in a watertight chest. 

A Hunter is HD1, unarmored, and armed with a machete and a cudgel. They are all blooded veterans, and take -2 fear damage on the hunt while their Captain lives. All can steer the boat and know their way home, all can use the lance and the harpoon. They can swim twice as fast as a normal human, and hold their breath for twice as long.

A Harpooner is as above, but is 2HD, gets a +2 bonus to hit and damage rolls with a harpoon, and is immune to all fear damage related to the hunt while their Captain lives. Captains are well respected but Harpooners are a mythical archetype on the Lantern Berth, analogous to Errants on the steppe. Their hands are death, red with gore, slayers of monsters. 

A Hunter Captain is as above but HD2, armed with a machete, a leather crop (to flog their men if they tire at the oar), a pistol (to shoot mutineers), and a spyglass. They are immune to fear on the hunt. They sight the movements of the behemoth, and direct the actions of the crew. Often, groups of small-boat Captains will elect one of their number to be the Hunter Chief, who coordinates the others and takes legal responsibility for deaths in excess of what is considered usual.

A Youngblood is statted as a hunter, but is not allowed to throw a harpoon or touch a lance, and takes full fear damage. A Youngblood is expected to watch and make themselves useful in the boat. Surviving and following orders calmly, quickly, and competently are their only goals, and vastly more important than skill at arms.

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The Hunt

Mechanics

Boats have 25hp and are unarmoured. The speed of the boat is the basic unit of speed during a hunt, and assumes 6 on the oars. Fewer than this and the boat travels at half speed. Fewer than 4 and the boat travels at 1/10th speed. Even a single person rowing is enough to get back home, it will just take a while. 

If a boat is destroyed, then all equipment is lost and all people inside are now in the water. Other boats can pick them up - a boat can hold 20 people at maximum, but any more than 10 will make all combat from the boat impossible. 

A Monster can be faster or slower than a boat. If they are slower, you automatically keep pace with it during the hunt and can place yourself relative to the monster as you wish. If faster, the monster controls the pace of the encounter, and can disengage and reengage at will. Many will simply disengage if you let them. 

If you can get harpoons with floats attached into them, then Monsters will start to take exhaustion. Each harpoon attached this way gives one exhaustion per minute. If a Monster ever has exhaustion greater than its HD, it can no longer move, and lies still on the surface (though it can still make attacks). 

Most monsters can dive and breach. If they dive without harpoons attached, you have lost them. If they have harpoons attached, they cannot dive for long than 10-[harpoons] minutes. When they breach they can do so underneath a boat, dealing d10 damage to the boat and themselves, and provoking a roll on the mishap table (see below). 

Combat

A harpoon does d6, a lance does d8, a grenade does 2d6. 

If a boat is alongside a monster, those inside the boat may attack with lances. If they roll max damage or crit while doing this, the boat that they are in is covered in a single stack of Gore. See the mishap table, below. 

Grenades have 'sea fuses' prepared back on the shore - these are mechanical and temperamental, and a grenade will be a dud 1 in 3 times. Grenades sink about 1m beneath the water before they explode and deal damage to everything within 10ft, including boats (but not people above the water if they detonate below the waterline). 

Combat with sea monsters is not a precise affair. Monsters add HD/10 rounded up to their to-hit rolls, instead of their HD.  

Mishaps

While in combat with Monsters, various occurrences (mostly monster attacks) will will require you to roll on the Mishap table. You get +1 for each stack of Gore in the boat, and -2 for each member of the crew doing nothing but ensuring things are tidied away and shipshape (someone doing this cannot engage in combat). If there are more than 10 people in the boat, this shipkeeping becomes impossible. 

Roll a d20 and consult the table below. Randomise which sailors are affected.

• 1-5: A close thing, but no serious damage, for now. 
• 6-7: A sailor looses their footing and knocks themselves senseless. They take d2 damage and are knocked into the sea. 
• 8-9: A free rope catches at pulls taught across the top of the boat. d3 sailors take d2 damage and are knocked into the sea. 
• 10-11: A solid impact; something tears off. The boat takes d6 damage.
• 12-13: The boat rocks and water rushes across the shallow deck. d6 sailors are washed overboard, but take no damage. 
• 14-15: A terrible, crunching blow to the timbers. Water starts to leak in, before being quickly plugged with tar and rags. The boat takes d12 damage.
• 16: A sailor slips onto a lance and cuts themselves badly. They take d6 damage. 
• 17: A sailor is caught in a taught rope and pulled onto the point of a harpoon. They take d10 damage. 
• 18: Someone kicks the sea chest by accident, and sets off the sea-fuse of one of the grenades. All grenades explode simultaneously, but only deal 1d6 damage each instead of 2d6, due to being locked in an iron box. All other items in the chest are ruined, and the boat takes on 1 Gore per person killed in the explosion.
• 19: The boat flips like a coin and takes d6 damage. All sailors are washed into the sea. 
• 20: The Boat is gashed and useless, and no longer seaworthy. It starts sinking rapidly. The boat is destroyed, and all sailors are now in the sea. 
• 21+: As 20, but d6 sailors additionally take d8 damage as the boat comes apart in sharp splinters, lashing ropes, and tangled steel debris. 

Weather

No captain of any experience would willingly put engage in a hunt in bad weather, but occasionally needs must. Each turn, roll a dice: in squalls, this is a d12, in storms a d8, in hurricanes, a d4. Every time you roll a 1, roll on the mishap table. Storms give all rolls on the Mishap table a flat +1; Hurricanes give you a flat +2.

Monsters

When a monster is spied from the Lantern Berth a crew is assembled to hunt it. Monsters do not frighten the islanders; a hunt is a cause for celebration; this is how youths transition into adulthood. 

Roll a d10 for your monster:

• 1: An Abomination.
• 2-3: A lesser monster: even chances of an Elder Shark, Giant Squid, or Emperor Jelly. 
• 4-6: A Whale.
• 7: A pod of d6 Whales.
• 8: A hunting pair of Assassin Whales. 
• 9: An Island Serpent.
• 10: A Monster Fish. 

Abomination

An odd mass of flesh and cartilage, not obviously alive, and lacking internal organs. Abominations wash up on the shore now and then, drifting out of the open ocean to the west. They are a bad omen, and are often diseased and purifying, home to millions of parasites, and uneaten by scavengers and other sea life. This is less a hunt and more a duty or garbage disposal. Abominations are usually harpooned from afar, towed into shore, dragged to furnaces, and incinerated.

HD15, unarmoured, no attacks, cannot move, mindless. If you attack one at close quarters you have a 1 in 2 chance of being exposed to a random disease, and are additionally attacked by hundreds of wriggling, worm-like parasites: save DEX or take d6 damage, and 1 damage per turn until you or someone else can spend an entire turn clearing them off you. 

Elder Shark

Sharks are common in the waters around the isle, and reef divers swim with lightweight spears to ward them off. An Elder Shark is very large and quite intelligent (for a shark), and many of them have grown to hate humans. They are still among the most direct of the true monsters, and are considered a predictable hunt; good experience for Youngbloods before tackling whales or worse. 

HD15, armour as leather, Jaws (2d8, can only attack someone in the water), Ram (shark and boat take d6 damage, boat tests for mishap), swims more slowly than a boat, but with sudden bursts of speed, disposition: murderous, vengeful, direct. 

Giant Squid

Called the 'Soldiers of the Evening' by islanders, and thought to make up the army of the sea itself. Their tentacles are lethally strong, and their beaks sharp, but they are slow, visible, and relatively fragile. Considered a fine first hunt. At night they shine brightly with blue phosphorescence - their soldiers 'uniform'.

HD10, unarmoured, tentacle x4, speed: slow, disposition: curious, will flee if given the option.

Tentacles attack at a distance of 30ft. If they hit a boat they do d8 damage, if they hit a person in a boat they do d4 damage and pull them into the water, and if they hit a person in the water they do d4 damage and pull them down to the beak, which does an additional d8 damage. 

Emperor Jelly

A non-conscious mass of transluscent flesh surrounded by thin nets of fine, stinging, tentacles that stretch for nearly a mile. They are greatly revered for their great beauty and forbearance, and because they kill other monsters with an almost contemptuous ease. Not dangerous to approach and kill, as long as you don't go in the water. The long, long approach to an emperor jelly, and the almost ritualistic ease with which they are dispatched once you get there, have a profound religious significance to the islanders. 

When they drag Jellies back to shore, specialist butchers with thick aprons and gloves harvest the stingers to make poisoned needles, darts, and arrow-heads that remain potent for about a week after the monster's death. 

If for any reason a sailor finds themselves in the water while attacking an Emperor Jelly, they must immediately test CON each turn they remain in the water, or be killed. 

HD8, unarmoured, no attacks, speed: slow, disposition: mindless. 

Whales

The Princes of the Sea. The Whale is by far the most noble monster to hunt, and its killing gives prestige above all. It is not the most dangerous, but it is the most human - Hunters swear that whales know kindness, mercy, wrath, and vengeance. They are killed for blubber, meat, and oil. Many in the Barony think them mythical. 

HD25, armour as leather, Great Jaws (2d10, can only attack a boat or someone in the water), Swallow Whole (one sailor in the water saves DEX or is removed from play. If the whale is killed, and their belly opened, the sailor may save CON with disadvantage to survive the ordeal), Tail (d6 damage to a boat, roll mishap) , Ram (d10 damage to a boat and to the whale, roll mishap), speed as boat, disposition: mercurial, calculating, mirthful, merciless.

Singing: Every sailor must save CHAR to attack a whale for the first time. Harpooners are immune. 

Young whales: as above, but HD15 and unarmoured. Every pod will contain 1 young whale per 2 adults. 

Ancient Whales: as above but HD35 and armour as chain. In addition, an Ancient Whale mirrors all psychic damage back onto to person or entity it originated from, deals fear damage equal to its physical damage, deals a single point of damage to everyone aboard a boat that is spattered with its Gore (its blood is boiling hot), and can speak (although it will not deign to talk to murderers). Will never appear in a pod; there is 1 in 6 chance of lone whale being an Ancient. 

Assassin Whales

Strange creatures that appear in pairs, and who hunt Hunters for sport. They are smaller than whales, but vicious and intelligent. A preferred tactic is for the two Assassins to attack a single boat at once, destroying it, mangling its crew while they are helpless in the water, and moving on to the next. The islanders call them Husband and Wife, or simply the Bastards. 

HD15, armour as leather, Ram (d10 to boat, d6 to Assassin Whale, roll mishap), Wash Over (requires both to use this attack on the same boat, all hands aboard test STR at disadvantage or are washed overboard. If washed overboard, take d6 fear damage), Cruel Jaws (2d10, can only be used on sailors in the sea), Torture (can only be used on sailors in the sea, and only if both Assassins use the same attack on the same person. 3d10 damage to the victim, d10 fear damage to anyone watching), speed: faster than a boat, disposition: motivated and intelligent murderers. 

Island Serpent

Serpents are mysterious beings. To begin with, they can speak, although some contend that they can only mimic, and do not form true thoughts of their own. They are so poisonous that merely brushing against their spines can kill in seconds. They do not appear to eat, though the islanders will tell you that what they eat is the truth. Or maybe what they eat is dignity, or freedom, or happiness, or innocence. They are hated, and when they are killed their long, heavy bodies are affixed to scaffolds at the edge of the harbour, and left to rot. 

HD20, armour as chain, Bite (can be used against sailors in boats, or in the water, 2d6, save CON or take an additional 2d8 poison damage), Crush (2d10 against a boat + roll mishap, 2d10 against a sailor in the water), 

Screaming Obscenity: When its head is above water (any turn not swimming), the Serpent will be screaming a barrage of lies about things that its hunters care about. This is usually not very intelligent, but it can be awful. The serpent is an excellent mimic of human voices, and has somehow heard your loved ones speaking. Everyone who can hear it takes d6 fear damage per turn. Islanders know to fill their ears with wax before a hunt (everyone who does so is functionally deaf), and anyone who does so has the damage reduced to d3. 

Poison Quills: If a sailor critically misses when attacking an Island Serpent in melee, they must save CON or take 2d8 poison damage.  

Monster Fish

Extremophiles of the deep places. Fish is a misnomer; no one knows what they really are. They come wreathed in sheets of brightly coloured chemical steam, poison, shrieking winds. A tumult and a fury. Their eyes are burning lances. When the monsters of the deep emerge, the islanders gird themselves for war. There will be no Youngbloods on a hunt against a Monster Fish. Harpooners measure rank in their strange warrior cult by the number of successful hunts they have sailed against the deep things.

Monster Fish have been known to beach themselves periodically on the Lantern Berth, sometimes en masse. There is no worse omen. 

HD35, armour as leather, Bite (2d8 against sailors in the ocean), Ram (d10 against the Monster Fish, 2d10 against the boat, roll on the mishap table), speed: as boat, disposition: mindlessly hostile.

Excitation: The sea hisses and boils around its terrible form - anyone in the water takes d4 boiling poison damage per turn that they remain there. In addition, all combat with a Monster Fish counts as taking place in a Hurricane, as the liquid around them vaporises into air and the thick chemical clouds are whipped into a frenzy.

Harrowing: The Monster Fish can gaze at a single target per turn. They may save DEX to avert their eyes (make themselves blind); if they are unable to they take damage equal to the damage die and type of the most damaging weapon that they have to hand. They may instead choose someone next to them suffer this damage. 

Swallow Whole: In place of its usual attacks, a Monster Fish may choose to swallow whole a sailor in the sea. They save DEX; if they fail they are annihilated. 

Biological Furnace: When you strike a Monster Fish in melee, you take d3 radiant damage. Your skin blackens, puckers, blisters, and falls away. You are additionally exposed to a random disease, which can include the Anathema. 

A Thing of the Elder World: A Monster Fish may roar when it makes an attack. Those aboard the boat it attacks (if it attacks a boat, otherwise only the single sailor attacked is affected) must save WIS, and on a failure immediately lose their nerve at detailed in the morale rules. Immunity to fear damage does not protect you from this. Everyone else in the combat takes d6 fear damage, and resistances and immunities apply as normal. 

The Academies of the Capital

The Academies are old and storied institutions. In the days of the old capital there was only one - now there are fourteen - two major, and twelve minor.

The minor academies are small affairs, mostly aligned with powerful and wealthy merchant and military houses. They are often staffed by three or four well known tutors (and they compete for famous names), and have their campuses in single buildings. They exist to teach the science and practice of pattern languages to heirs and noble scions with the aptitude and dedication required - they will supplement their income by charging tuition to students from other houses, and some schools also grant scholarships via examination, in theory open to all. Academics turned through the minor institutions are respected professionals, but they lack the prestige of the major schools. Many who pursue the science seriously consider the minor academies a poor imitation to their more storied progenitors.

The elder of the two is the Scholomance, also called the University. It was the first house in which pattern languages were studied systematically, and it claims to have invented the teachable curriculums that allow this. The Scholomance is a sprawling campus of lecture halls, dormitories, and student and tutor accommodation. Its teachings and methods are, in theory, completely secret to those outside its walls, but they have enough graduates and public scrutiny that the reality is a little different: there are 'levels' of training that students can take on - the teaching of the so-called 'surface' levels, which are structured around large lectures, essays, and both theoretical and practical examinations, are widely visible, and constitute the public perception of academic training. The 'lower' and 'submerged' levels are theoretical courses, taught by individuals or small group of tenured professors, and are usually invite only. It is very rare that a student whose study is made up entirely of 'surface' training will be capable of communication with entities, although they might make fine theoreticians, pattern-linguists, or historians. The structure of the lower and submerged curriculums is usually somewhere between an open secret and a mystery cult - initiates are brought through the stages of their lowering, and are tested at each stage, with the express intention of ensuring that the valuable and dangerous knowledge bound up in pattern languages stays with the 'right people'. The professorship of the University are, on the whole, patriotic, and politically conservative, although the nature of their work, with its secrecy, and its broad leeway for individual tutors to study and teach their own special interests, means that it is difficult to draw this net too tightly. In particular, many tutors find their research and teachings at odds with those of the church, and the rivalry between the two institutions is storied.

The newer of the two major academies is less than one hundred years old, but is both larger and (very arguably) currently more influential in day to day capital politics than the University. It is called the School of Practical Linguistics and Semiotics, and, though it owns and maintains many buildings throughout the capital, it has no fixed campus. The School (every knows what you mean), was founded by breakaway tutors from the University who were formally disbarred for political reasons now lost to time. The tuition is cheaper, and the entrance exam is notably less particular about the class of person who sits for it. The School gives its lectures in large public buildings, and publishes practical manuals and volumes for consumption by a general reading public. The University likes to deride these books as essentially worthless, un-rigorous, middle-brow garbage, published for rubes with delusions of erudition - it is certainly true that no one ever learned a pattern language by studying one. The School says that they raise the level of the general public's understanding of their tradition, and they also make enormous amounts of money. 

The School's reputation is for no-frills, functional, industry-focused and high-quality tuition. They turn out academics with trades and work ethic, although like the University, the majority of their graduates do not actually deal with entities directly. The stereotypical School graduate is a serious and motivated young person with a sharpened disdain for tradition, secrecy, and mysticism. The infamous THREE WORD GANGS grew from informal groups and cliques of students at the School, and their spread through the undergraduates of the University, despite attempts to stamp them out by its faculty, has been read by many as a decisive shift in power between the two. 

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MISC NOTES

• The Scholomance was originally a school of rhetoric, though not many know this. It was the study of the linguistic relationships between the human mind and the beings called forth by artists that lead to the development of the first systematic grammars and lexicons for pattern languages. 
• Three word gangs are an omnipresent fact of life for students at the academies, and even the minor institutions unofficially host their own. When you start tuition, most people would expect you to join one - those who choose not to are making a highly visible and legible choice. Like many other aspects of student life, the three word gangs are organised into secret 'levels' of leadership and seniority.
• Mirrors and entities: I've said before that entities don't like mirrors - this should be formalised. You cannot summon any entity if you can see your own reflection in a mirrored surface, it simply refuses to arrive. If you find yourself in a situation where your entity is summoned and you can see your own reflection, the entity will take 1 psychic damage per turn that you are so exposed. This is not true in the dreamlands, where mirrors are a different thing. 
• The Practical School has its graduates headhunted preferentially by the Baroness' spy service, in keeping with her general attitude towards progress and modernisation - they have the same 'spirit of the times' that she does, and fit readily into the existing work culture. The Scholomance still has the money, resources, institutional knowledge, and brand pull to produce a generally higher quality of pure research - Academics from all institutions base their cutting-edge work on the publications of the University.

One of the most enjoyable books I've ever read.

The Lantern Berth

NB: Baronials are the only people in the setting whose origin myths involve them arriving to the land on ships - they are supposed to have immigrated from the dreamlands and the setting sun and the dead islands that are hidden in them. Everyone else makes a point of detailing how they have always been there.

Following on from this post.

The island is not large. Centuries ago is was almost entirely developed into townships and fortifications by the people of the Old Capital. The natural colour of the stone is deep red, and the dust and sand is the same, perhaps a little lighter. The old buildings are recognisably in the architectural style of their builders; they feature the same stone construction, cast iron railings, and vaulted windows and ceilings. Here they have been augmented with iron shades and coverings for the windows, all of which has rotted and rusted with the centuries. The sunlight over everything is yellows, oranges, reds; in the evening the shadows are blue, purple, black. 

There are two still-functional townships on the Lantern Berth, one on its eastern shore, and one on the western. They have been built into and over existing Capital architecture, with new structures commonly built from the local red stone, with timber additions and iron embellishment and accenting. There are small cypress plantations and orchards and gardens on the island, tilled and kept in sunken, walled compounds to save them from the salt wind. The islanders are visibly unlike the people in the Barony, and are also culturally distinct; Baronials find them abrupt, distant, and unfriendly. They have kept the stained glass-making and blowing traditions of the first Capital settlers, and trade the other products of the island. The eat seafood (they love squid rubbed with salt) and, less commonly, fresh produce from their gardens. They grow oranges in many colours, and small, hard pears. 

The islanders are not warriors in any organised military sense, but the island itself is a natural fortress, without landing beaches. The few times enemies have tried to invade their home the islanders have burned enemy ships with strange weapons that look like long tubes of brass, filled with burning oil, and pumped with bellows until the pressure spatters the burning stuff across the decks and prows of enemy ships. These tubes can be loaded easily into small, swift ships, and are capable of quickly sinking even large enemy vessels. The islanders are also famous for burning captured enemies to death in bronze cauldrons. They are mostly religious (with a sizeable irreligious minority culturally tied to the White City), and have built churches and small shrines all across the island. 

The Eastern Berth is the more developed of the two towns, and includes the harbour where the sailors from the Barony most commonly dock. Some of its ancient municipal buildings have been restored and added to with carved stone blocks in the ancient style, and the interiors of most houses are kaleidoscopically multi-coloured where the sun falls through the stained-glass. The main settlement is surrounded by hundreds of green orchards, gardens, and cypress groves, and trade is brisk. The lighthouse that it is built around is tall and strongly built, and its lantern panes are red. 

The Western Berth is smaller, rougher, and poorer than the Eastern. It is here that the relic hunters live, and from here that they make their forays into the central, uninhabited ruins. Most of the surface tunnels and forts have been mapped, but the ruins are treacherous - there are sinkholes, sections collapse, and rival groups sometimes set traps and snares to make the way hazardous. Those caught doing this are executed, but they aren't often caught - what happens in the ruins most often stays there. The relic hunters claim that the old fortifications and townships also extend down into the earth, as was the common way with their original builders. They tell stories of the ghosts and the horrors of that nighted underworld. The Western Lantern is smaller than the Eastern one, and its lantern is blue.

A bit like Cadiz, but way smaller, and built on top of itself.

More Plays - The King of Birds

For this system/dungeon.

The inimitable Susperia, Dario Argento, 1977

The King of Birds

An infamously cursed play - no actor in their right mind would consent to act in it. During the first showing in the capital, the theatre burned down along with everyone inside it. It is well known that those trying to act it out suffer dangerous and improbable mishaps. The King of Birds itself is a sort of mythical bogeyman in the Barony, and since it never actually enters onto the stage during the play, its nature is unclear. 

When playing in The King of Birds, your critical failure range is increased by one, and suffering a critical failure will have worse than usual and often dangerous consequences, as determined by the DM. If you attack someone with a prop weapon during the play, there is a 1 in 6 chance that the weapon will do damage as if it were real. 

All fear damage taken during the play is at +1 in act one, +2 in act two, +3 in act three, and +4 in act four. 

Finally, in the blackout scenes, the Kingfisher will attack people on the stage, as indicated in the script. It will not remember doing this once the lights come back up, and will treat you mentioning it as a lie. 

ACT ONE

A pair of young lovers, a watchman, a bandit, and a murderer, gather inside an isolated and abandoned house to escape from the blizzard. We arrive in media res, after they have lit a fire to warm themselves. They make small talk, and the Murderer tells them about the King of Birds. 

You cannot see the King but he will show himself to you once you come to the realisation, in your deepest heart, that you cannot stop him from killing you. His eyes are very white and his face and his hands are in darkness. 

• The Beau, The Maiden, The Officer, The Criminal, The Noble. All talking in rapid dialogues: we are so cold, thank god we are safe for the night, where did this cabin come from? Fortuitous indeed. The Lovers ask what the others are doing out in the night? The Watchman, Bandit, and Murderer all claim to be looking for a killer. Discussion of this - is it the same person? No. The Murderer tells them that the killer he searches for is the King of Birds. No checks. 
• The Beau, The Maiden, The Officer, The Criminal, The Noble. The Watchman describes his quarry: a serial killer who kills women in the city; and the Bandit describes hers: a highwayman who murdered his lover. They ask the Murderer, are either of these the same as yours? The Murderer laughs and says no, these are nothing like the King of Birds. The Lovers announce that they will retire for the night as they have a long way to travel in the morning. They leave the stage, with elaborate mimicking of closing, bolting, locking and barricading a door. Officer, Criminal, Noble check CHAR.
• BLACKOUT. All players take d6 fear damage. The Officer, The Criminal, The Noble. In the absolute darkness on stage, the Watchman describes the terrible murders in the capital in sickening detail. The Bandit describes the viciousness of the beating the highwayman dealt his lover. The Murderer talks about the movement of the King of Birds through the night, its appearing and disappearing, its sealing tight of the rooms of its victims, its cruelty and its hatred. Officer, Criminal, Noble check CHAR. The Kingfisher attacks the Beau and the Maiden once each. If either of these players has templates in Actor, they are instead attacked three times. 

ACT TWO

The fire burns low. The Watchman, Bandit, and Murderer discuss their motivations for catching their various killers - law, justice, and curiosity. They speak of their own professions. The Watchman keeps order, the Bandit ensures that the rich do not abuse their power. The Murderer says that he is an agent of other powers, but refuses to elaborate. They sleep, and they dream. The bodies of the Lovers are dismembered off-stage, and the pieces strung across a thorned scaffold.

There are black feathers beneath his black leather gloves. His beak was fashioned from sharp steel. There is no pity in him and where he goes he will make the world in his image. The world is utterly mad. 

• The Officer, the Criminal, the Noble. As they speak they all confess that they are sleepy. The room is like a dream or a nightmare. Can they trust one another? The Murderer keeps hearing something from the room where the lovers are. The other two say they must be loving one another, don't disturb them, they are young and very beautiful, they deserve this respite. The world is a bad place. The Murderer is agitated. Don't sleep he says, but they seem to be sleeping already. Noble checks CHAR. 
• The Beau, the Maiden. The dismembered bodies of the lovers are dragged across the stage. Requires Strobe. The Beau and the Maiden test DEX. On failure the Kingfisher will attack them once. 
• The Officer. The Watchman dreams that he has found his serial killer. He fights him and is bested and killed. Officer tests CHAR.
• The Criminal. The Bandit dreams that she has found the highwayman. She cannot stop him from killing her lover. She kills herself. Criminal tests CHAR.
• The Noble. The Murderer tries to wake the other two but cannot. In a panic he monologues that he has to flee. The King is here, and these people are already damned. He gathers his possessions and leaves the cabin. He mime locking, bolting, and jamming the door behind him. 
• BLACKOUT. All players take d6 fear damage. In the absolute black on stage we hear the Watchman and Bandit wake and ask themselves where the Murderer has gone? Why would he leave? The blizzard roars and screams outside. Where would he go? The Kingfisher attacks the Murderer once. If this player has templates in Actor, they are instead attacked three times. 

ACT THREE

Maybe he was the serial killer? Maybe he was the highwayman? It cannot be helped now, it cannot be helped. We will find his frozen corpse in the morning. In the meantime can they trust one another? They talk about their dreams, and in doing so decide that in fact they can trust one another. The body of the Murderer is beaten and stamped to wet pieces outside the house. 

He is invisible and incorporeal. He comes when he will. He chooses the ones he will persecute and there is nothing that can save them once they have been chosen. Most of all he delights in killing the ones who do not deserve to be killed. 

• The Officer, The Criminal. Perhaps we could work together? We can find one first then the other and both will be vindicated and avenged. What is that noise from outside the house? The criminal says it sounds like her dream. She is white and shaking. She tells the Watchman that he should not leave the room under any circumstances. Officer, Criminal check CHAR. 
• The Beau, the Maiden, The Noble. All three dismembered bodies are dragged across the stage, then posed obscenely and made to dance from thorned wires. Requires Strobe. The Beau, the Maiden, and the Noble test DEX. On failure the Kingfisher will attack them once. 
• The Officer, the Criminal. Surely it will be dawn soon? What is that horrible noise? It feels like we have been here for days. They elaborately mime barring, locking, and barricading the doors to the house against trespass from the outside. Officer, Criminal check CHAR. 
• The Officer, the Criminal. The Watchman stops and thinks. He says that they should unbar the doors, take down the barricade. It is in this enclosure that whatever is outside takes them. The Bandit tells him he is losing his mind, and not the touch the door. Officer, Criminal check CHAR. 
• BLACKOUT. All players take d6 fear damage. In the darkness of the stage the Watchman can be heard to say yes, of course, you're right, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Then both Watchman and Bandit start screaming, which turns slowly into terrified crying and unintelligible pleading. The Kingfisher attacks the Officer and the Criminal once each. If either of these players has templates in Actor, they are instead attacked three times. 

ACT FOUR

Each of the abused and dismembered corpses is paraded across the stage, and made to act out violent and degrading acts on the others. 

He is here now, he is here now, he is here now. He is like God, he is like God, he is like God. A God that hates you, a God that hates you, a God that hates you. 

• The Beau, the Maiden. The corpses of the Lovers are made to act out their beating and killing of one another. Requires Strobe. The Beau and the Maiden test CHAR. On failure the Kingfisher will attack them once. 
• The Noble. The corpse of the Murderer is made to bow to the audience as it is once again beaten into pulp. It says 'I welcome this! I welcome this!' Requires Strobe. The Noble tests CHAR. On failure the Kingfisher will attack them once. 
• The Officer, the Criminal. The corpse of the Watchman asks the corpse of the Bandit to  dismember it with a knife. The corpse of the Bandit complies. The corpse of the Bandit asks the corpse of the Watchman to beat it to death. The corpse of the Watchmen complies. Requires Strobe. The Officer and the Criminal test CHAR. On failure the Kingfisher will attack them once. 
• BLACKOUT. All players take d6 fear damage. 

FIN

Aftermath: All players in a production of The King of Birds henceforth treat all death and dismemberment rolls as one worse than they otherwise would be. There are no additional benefits. This play is unique in that this takes effect whether or not it was the first play performed by these characters. The effects can also stack if you're insane enough to try to act it out twice. 

The Sea of Fire and Blood and Burnished Metal

The sea. There's only one in the Barony, so no one thinks to distinguish. They call it that because of the colours at the end of the day when the sun is sinking and dying and staining the horizon red and golden.

The sea is a source of plentiful food and swift travel along the coast. All of the Barony's trade with the Empire happens by ship, and ships are also by far the fastest way to travel quickly north or south. Near the coast the sea is mostly calm and warm. The wind blows across its surface and chops it into dull, transparent sheets and waves. In the south it turns wild and icy. North it gets warmer and warmer until eventually, they say, it is so thick with salt and minerals and algae and strange semi-liquid creatures that a person can walk across its surface.

The Baronial Capital hosts a civilian fleet of fishing and trading vessels, and there are many minor settlements and kingdoms with their own ports and harbours along the coast. The sea is the major spine of trade in the region, and because of this is indispensable to its stability.

It is also considered magical - not in any straight forward or diagnosable way; but the sea is like a dream. When the sun bounces from its surface in the summer and the brightness of it fills your eyes first and then the rest of you and you feel yourself dissolving. When the night comes down and you can hear the movements of water beneath you, and watch the passage of the moon and the stars across its surface. Like when you are in a dream, you can lose time, see the faces of people both like and unlike the ones that you know, or be brought into moments of extreme and unwelcome lucidity. The sea is tricky; it can change people. 

Sailors are almost like dreamers. They are storied and romanticised, and also not fully trusted. The know the workings of a ship and this is thought to keep them properly grounded. They know how the sea can get into you. They aren't like artists or prophets; they tend not to care so much for language. They work with their hands, with the feeling of the air and the water, with the sky and its patterning. If a Baronial novel has a sailor in it, they will be both very wise and very stupid, and they will probably come out on top in the end. They will also have people falling in love with them, often to the despair of the more central characters. It's quite a specific archetype. 

-

There are also islands in the sea, far enough from the coast that you can't see them at the horizon, even on a clear day. Everyone knows that sailing away from the coast is borderline suicidal. The dreaming gets more intense. You go into dispersion. The sun gets bigger the further west you are, and it is hungry, the red light at the end of the day. It swallows things whole. 

The first of the islands, and the only one that has been properly settled, is the Lantern Berth, so-named for its two operational lighthouses, and many ruined ones. The Old Capital settled and developed the island extensively, but the majority of the forts and townships that they built have fallen to ruin over the centuries. The twin remaining towers are kept lit by the native dwellers of the island, who trade citrus fruit, coffee, fish, and relics that they dig from the ruins with sailors from the mainland. They are known as whalers, and as hunters of sea dragons and monster-fish. If sailors are like dreamers, then the islanders are like the ones who live in the dream. Slow, patient, smiling, methodical, cruel, happy, laughing, silent. Hands working nets and ropes, and the smells of salt and oil. 

Beyond the Lantern Berth there are said to be a thousand more islands, each further in towards the hungry sun and the dreaming waves. They are sometimes called the islands of fire, and sometimes called the islands of the dead (since it is amongst them that the day goes to die). There are stories of what may inhabit them, of what strange deeds are done there - some say that the islands are heaven, and that they lie outside of time - some say that they really are the dreamlands, and that this is how you get to those kingdoms as a body instead of a dreaming mind - some say that they are stranger still than this, a limit to the earth beyond which all things are like air and fire, like acid and metal, like the endless chemical burning of the stars.

William Etty

Baronial Mercenary Companies

A followup to this post. You can also use this table to generate a company of noble house troops. 

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Kill Squads and deniable assassins are the norm. When territorial borders are endangered, there are always the Professionals. 

Professionals come as a company, with a history and a reputation. They take these things extremely seriously - their reputation is how they get work. There is not a lot of serious/existential inter-Petty Kingdom conflict in the Barony, but when it does happen (and the Baroness is unable to put a stop it in whatever way, before it flowers into actual boots on the ground), the Professionals are the ones who are called in to prosecute and defend.

Professionals are predominantly heavy infantry, to the extent that infantry in full harness archetypically read as mercenaries to those who live in the Barony, even though similar equipment is commonly used by noble house troops. Larger companies will often include cavalry; mostly light cavalry but occasionally heavy shock troops. These are not nobles, and cavalry carry no particular privileges compared with infantry. Cavalry charges are less commonly used in the Barony than they were in our world, since stand-up field battles and decisive morale failures are generally less important.

Before you do anything else, you need a name and colours for your company. Then you need to roll for their reputation:

• 1 - 4: Nothing Special. No particular special reputation as yet, but probably have a few successful contracts under their belt. 
• 5: Reliable. This company has never yet failed to make good on the terms of their payment. This means that you can trust them to do what they say they will, and try again to do so if they fail the first time. The upshot of this reputation is that the company will not take highly or even moderately risky jobs, and charges a premium for their services. 
• 6: Hungry. Fresh on the scene, often with young and inexperienced generalship, keen to impress and make a name for themselves. They will take on risky missions, and will be cheaper than the norm. Poor risk management and mitigation, and often have a shaky understanding of their own capabilities. May blame you if things go south. That said, every great general had to start somewhere. 
• 7: Cruel. Known for their lack of scruples when dealing with prisoners and civilians. Often make extensive use of collective punishment, public torture, and institutionalised terror tactics. The use of mercenaries of this type, especially if this use is not kept secret, is seen as a serious escalation in inter-noble conflicts, and often signals that foes have been slated for extermination. 
• 8: Well-lead. A quality of generalship, this company is known to be well-supplied, quick to deploy and manoeuvre, and strategically and tactically canny. They are also known for making calculated decisions in their own interests, which may not align in every instance with those of their employers.

With reference to the following tables: 

• A Heavy Infantryman is a man-at-arms dressed in plate, with a shield, an armour-defeating warhammer or pick, and a misericorde. 1 in 3 also have a pistol. 
• A Light Infantryman is a man-at-arms dressed in medium armour, and armed with a sword, spear, shield, and dagger. 
• A Shooter is a man-at-arms, dressed in light armour, and armed with a sword, a dagger, and a crossbow. 1 in 3 of them will have a musket instead of a crossbow.
• A Skirmisher is a man-at-arms, dressed in light armour, and armed with a dagger, sword, shield, and bow. 
• An Arditi is a man-at-arms, dressed in light armour, and armed with a dagger, a pistol, a firebomb, and a grappling hook and climbing gear. 1 in 3 have a blunderbuss instead of a pistol. Arditi are assault and infiltration specialists, and never test morale. They enjoy double pay and other privileges, and are often the subject of heroic tall tales in the Barony.
• A Light Cavalryman is a man-at-arms riding an horse, with 50/50 wearing light or no armour, armed with a sword, spear, knife, and 50/50 bows and crossbows. 1 in 3 will have a carbine (stats as musket) in place of their ranged weapon.
• A Heavy Cavalryman is a man-at-arms riding a barded horse, dressed in plate, and armed with a hammer or pick, a steel lance, a knife, with 1 in 3 also carrying pistols. 

This mercenary company is:

• 1-4: Small. 10d10 Heavy infantry, 10d10 Light Infantry. Even chances of 5d10 Shooters, Arditi, Skirmishers, or Light Cavalry. 
• 5-7: Medium. 15d10 Heavy Infantry, 15d10 Light Infantry. 3 of the following (even chances): 10d10 Shooters, Arditi, Skirmishers, or Light Cavalry, or Heavy Cavalry.
• 8-9: Large. 30d10 Heavy Infantry, 30d10 Light Infantry. 3 of the following (even chances): 15d10 Shooters, Arditi, Skirmishers, or Light Cavalry, or Heavy Cavalry.
• 10: Field Army. 500+[30d10] Heavy Infantry, 500+[30d10] Light Infantry. 3 of the following (even chances): 100+[15d10] Shooters, Arditi, Skirmishers, or Light Cavalry, or Heavy Cavalry.

Each Contingent of troops will have a 3HD Captain leading them, and one 2HD Sergeant for every full 50 troops. Both are equipped as their troops are, and make two attacks per turn. In addition, each rolls once on the following table:

• 1-4: Nothing. 
• 5: Skilled. Roll to hit at +1, and have a +1 expanded crit range.
• 6: Duelist. +3 to hit and +1 damage in one on one combat. 
• 7: Fearless. Never personally tests morale, and allows troops under their command to roll at advantage. Arditi officers reroll. 
• 8: Wealthy. Carrying 400s worth of finery, and better equipped than their troops. 
• 9: Cruel. When they hit they deal fear damage equal to the physical damage that they inflict.
• 10: Connected. They are worth 1000s in ransom, and if you kill them you will make dangerous enemies in the capital. 

The company are lead by a general, who they are personally loyal to. Generals should be treated as any NPC, with their own desires, goals, etc. They are stereotypically loud, dangerous, brash, monied, and bullying, but there are all sorts of people leading mercenary companies. A general is a 4 template Fighter/Specialist, and will probably own a magic item or two. They roll on the officer table above, and are additionally accompanied by a staff; roll twice on the following table (multiples are additive).

• 1-4: Bodyguards. 2d3 3HD fighters, equipped as heavy infantry, who each attack twice per turn. They have the personality of murder-trained pitbulls. 
• 5-6: Specialists. 2d6 of (even chances): siege engineers with a large demolition explosive; sharpshooter with a rifled muskets (as musket but doubled range and +2 to hit if you don't move the turn you fire); trackers who can always find your trail; torturers who scare normal people enough that they will do anything the company ask.
• 7: Ogre Advisor. Ogres make surprisingly popular advisors, and are known to provide straight forward, practical, unembellished council. This one has d3 templates and wears 400s of finery. 
• 8: Artillerist. An engineer with a bombard and its crew. Rare and frightening weapons in the Barony. 
• 9: Company Magician. A 2 template Academic, Artist, or Elf-Friend, with 1 additional template in Specialist. Carries a single magic item. 
• 10: Rich Cousins. d3 Bravos, each with d2 templates, a minor magic item, and 500s of finery. 
• 11: Ape Soldiers. Choose one specialist company - all members are replaced with White Ape Berserks, wearing plate armour and carrying flamberges. Their officer is an Ape Slaver, wearing an expensive tuxedo (White Ape, d4 templates), and deploys their charges without regard for their safety. 
• 12: Zombies. Choose either the Heavy Infantry or Light Infantry company - all members are replaced with indentured undead. They are equipped as the soldiers that they replace, but are often quietly mutinous. Nonetheless terrifying fighters. Their officer is a 2 template Little Saint.
• 13: Vermiform. 2d3 Vermiform, keeping their true forms secret beneath cloaks and masks. The general uses them as spies and assassins, and they feed on the plentiful blood, filth, and terror of the battlefield. During peacetime they will hunt for other prey. If you roll this result more than once, then the general also gains all abilities of a vermiform. 
• 14: Wizard. Keeping their true identity secret. The general is their thrall, but the rest of the army do not yet know this. Any duplicate rolls will result in Apprentices, as detailed in the Wizard writeup. 
• 15: Werewolves. d4 almost-feral werewolves, only just sane enough not to eat their allies in the heat of battle, and fed captives and livestock in the meantime. They have been dressed in generously sized and cleverly tailored uniforms in the hope of suppressing their beastly natures. Success has been limited. 
• 16: Sage. Stats as a commoner, but has access to extensive historical and geographical information about the company's field of operations. 
• 17: Political Advisor. A representative of one of the Petty Kings or Queens - either the company's employer, or someone else that they do business with. They will have a staff of scribes and messengers to take word of the companies doings to the powers that be. 
• 18: Iron Puppets. 2d2 Iron Puppets, hosting the minds of war angels from the future. At least, the company hopes that their hosts are angels. Scream incoherent praise to the sky as they pull their enemies to pieces.  
• 19: Paladins. The church has seconded a squad of 2d2 Paladins to the company, for reasons of their own (generally political). They each have 2 templates in Little Saint, and 2 templates in Fighter, and carry blessed weapons and armour. 
• 20: Imperial Attaché. A Citizen of the White City (2 templates), joined by 2d2 Soldiers, and one of the City's Pragmatists. The general must have entered in some sort of agreement with the Empire. They have access to a stock of chemical weapons - toxins, sterilisers, and hallucinogens - that only the Pragmatist knows who to safely handle and deploy. These are usually introduced into a large water supply like a lake or river, and will be potent for a week or so. The pragmatist carries one 'charge' of each. They will depart when they have the information that they need.