Beautiful Companion

There is a large and very beautiful old house, which would, a hundred years ago, have housed a wealthy family and their staff, but which is now rented out to whoever, whenever, for whatever purpose. It has many rooms, and is built in stone, on the slope of the highlands of one of the hundred thousand islands that arbitrarily dot the Mediterranean. The architectural accents are typical of its region. The house has views of the sea, and, on its other side, of the black, rocky, mountainous region at the island’s centre. It has a rich and beautiful garden, which is planted with trellises of flowers—sweet-smelling jasmine, passionfruit vines, hibiscus—and stands of ancient trees, now grown-over and untended. It has many rooms for entertaining, for sleeping in, for cooking, washing, and dining; it has rooms that are moved through and made use of every day by those that rent out the house, and it has rooms that might be used once, or not at all. The interiors are modernised, and furnished in good taste. There are one or two rooms that are almost secret; not easily accessible to its temporary tenants. It has a broad driveway that leads to a gate, and to a track that runs down the slope of the mountain, to the sea, and the sea is warm and bright year-round, turquoise blue. It has a private road that leads to a private beach of exquisite beauty; a private beach which is nonetheless used often by the locals, who, out of a volatile sense of pride, will quarrel with the temporary tenants of the house on the smallest pretext. It has access to another road, this one public, that leads to a local stand of fig trees grown wild in an abandoned concrete lot that would have been a new house—concrete foundations, modern lines, bigger than those around it—but was abandoned for lack of funds and now stands as empty as the primordial desert. This same road leads up into the black stone mountain, and down, onto the freeway that circles the island, and which eventually terminates at the airport, which is how the tenants arrive and depart. 

This is the first set. 

The second is a series of dreams, or stories, or images, of heaven— of peace, or at least of escape from pain, visibility, care, illness, degradation, shame, fear. These images are cut through the scenes in the house and the grounds and the island in the Mediterranean. They are difficult to categorise cleanly. Perhaps it is best to trust that the reader will know them when she sees them, and pass over them here in silence. 

The third is an organisation; a staff, and a timeline, and a plan (or many plans, whose objectives interlock in complex patterns); a logistical structure. Its elements are organisational, which means that each of the actions that compose it are like a point in a diagram, discreetly functioning, a success or a failure, and organised in relation to other scenes of this kind. Individual successes and failures are less important than the continuation of this structure of discreet scenes, which can absorb and metabolise any amount of defeat, and which nonetheless is very rarely actually defeated—its resources are, for the purposes of this story and its human scale, effectively infinite.

This third set is a place of great horror, sadness, fear, and inhumanity. It is understood that the third set is the background structuring element for the other two, that it is their nightmare substrate, and that its influence will be felt more and more as the story progresses, and the characters chase their small triumphs and suffer their setbacks; until the whole has been entirely subsumed into and infected by this more powerful organisational system. 

A horror story then, or a tragedy. But this is not worth dwelling on now, before we know anything about the stakes, or about the characters, whose humanity (common to us all) may absolve and dignify their eventual dissolution into their fate. This remains to be seen; it is in contention. 

-

These are the types of scene, and, like any narrative construction, they have their individual moods, their style and presentation; their props, lighting, sound design, and special effects, foregrounded (or tellingly absent), to express specifics of authorial intention. Specialist machinery, techniques, tricks, misdirections, smoke and mirrors. You might identify distinct suites of them. 

The first is a type of hyper-amorous saturation of colour, smell, warmth; food, quiet conversations, bodies, clothes and cosmetics, soft light, secrets, unspoken understandings; the usual sparring grounds for most of our cast. They are specialists in the navigation of territories of this kind. 

The second is a storm so big that it covers the world. You fall through it, or you fly upwards into it—it has no end which means that there are no directional markers, no specific points of reference. It is composed of smoke and wind, flashes of fire, vast sheets of energetic discharge, rains of boiling and freezing water, rains of acid, rains of poison. There are patches of emptiness interspersed throughout the tumult, tiny in comparison with the chaos that surrounds them, but because of the size of the chaos each might take you hours to fall through. In these pockets you hearing only the wind in your ears, the distant movements of pure air. The colours are grey and white, and sometimes, far away, dark red, or soft yellow. The light of the sun, obscure through so much intervening material, but still visible in brief instants, carves out the endless volume of the clouds with spears of light. The movements and the forces are irresistible. If you made your body rigid, if you tried to fight against your violent dispersal through this space, you would be torn to pieces immediately.

The third is, in some obscure sense, the same as the storm, although superficially they appear to be nothing alike. It is the storm’s other face, its predator face, its killing face. It looks like bright, flat moonlight falling over a deserted town, or on an empty garden, on the roofs of thousands of houses, an endless field of them, shining in the warm, still air; houses where everyone has died or gone away. The moonlight is exactly equivocal— it falls without discrimination, and makes everything under it the same substance. You can move through this unvarying space, at street level, at the level of black doorways and black windows like the mouths of corpses, or furniture which has been changed into something else under the light, something you recognise from dreams that persist after waking as ugly, sad confusion, and terror that you feel in your body. 

If you move for long enough through this space you might see someone else, very far from you, at the end of a very long street, but, you think, moving closer at speed, sprinting towards you. If you watch you will realise: that they are you, and they can see you too, in the distance, moving towards them at a dead sprint; that you are sprinting, that you mean them, or you, harm. How could you have missed this?

There are others; less specific, more modular, more controlled, built and deployed for specific scenes as necessary. Since these are effects, produced and deployed with a purpose in mind, each can be used to counterpoint the sets and characters, regardless of other factors. They are ‘floating’, and have no inherent agenda or content of their own beyond the technocratic modulation of the scenes. It goes without saying that no image of heaven can be modulated in this way, and that these much each be composed by their own light, and by their own logics, which can occur only once, and which must then stand for their own recurrence in perpetuity. An image of heaven is a circle, or a fragile dream of a loop in time. 

-

Beautiful companion, how can I write you for myself. I want to write you such that no one else would ever possess you —I would need a cypher of my own to do so, it would need to be impossible to decode for another.

Desire is a horror story. It stinks of the most intimate smells, of mornings before we washed our bodies, of breath and hair and sweat. Its encoding into writing is no simple thing. The first thing to do is to swap your gender for another. Then your hair colour, your features, your body that is loved by me, your name, which I will amputate to a single letter, and even that of another… No one else can ever possess the truth of the writing of your body that I make public; the most vulgar display. What is important is that I can remember the steps I have taken to obscure you. Without them the writing does not function and is rendered useless and obscene— a broken, specialist instrument that cannot be repaired without the kindness and trust that we once shared; without the grace held between us, made between our mouths. It trails behind me like a smashed limb. I have written so many stories that no longer function, because I have forgotten the cyphers that I developed to code you into them.

Then let me say this clearly:

The first time I met you I immediately knew several things. You were proud, and this was plainly visible on your face; pride, along with something like hallucination. How can you see hallucination on someone’s face? It was in your eyes, but it was also in the way your jaw was set, in the way you could retreat from any situation immediately, without moving—it was like watching your soul vanish—in the oblique angles of your face as you looked into the flat glow of the white, hot summer sky; it was in the way you looked at people and things. You looked at them like they were something that you understood; like you had the secret truth of the elements that composed your environment. This was also how you spoke to people, how you spoke to me. That I understood you when you spoke, or thought I did and happily asserted this, and that I often agreed with what you said, meant nothing at all to the force of your assessment, which grew outwards at the speed of light to include the workings and mechanisms of the whole world. 

I also understood that you were beautiful, and that I would fall in love with you, in my amputated, nearly mechanical way. I wanted to know you in the most intimate way. I wanted to know how you thought, I wanted to be able to anticipate your thinking, and also what in you was unconscious—your strange needs and drives, what compelled you to hallucinate the universe that wasn’t you.

Your features are strong, too big for your face, artless, and very expressive. You are clumsy, and you worry about what people think of you. Most often, and most obsessively, you worry about what you’ve said, about how it will be remembered; about whether you can maintain friendships long term, about whether you will ever be able to hold down a job. About loneliness. And it is true—though your face first looked to me like pride and like hallucination, I realised quickly that it also looked like loneliness, and of your own fear of how your life would go. You are more and more clumsy as time goes on.

The Guests Arrive

They arrive over the course of a several days. All of them fly to the island from Europe: three from London, one from Berlin, one from Marseille, one from Paris, one from Milan. But none of them are from these cities, and if they live in them, or have adopted them, it is in that itinerant way reserved for cultural-industrial postgraduates, and corporate fixers and consultants, which is what they are. All of them believe in the toughness and efficacy of pure intellect, pure research, all of them believe in language, all of them believe in a common equality between people, beneath the specificities and historical accidents of culture, material circumstance, etc. Nonetheless, all of them are careful to avoid naiveté. They are mostly ambitious, and they are mostly kind. All of them understand that kindness can look like toughness, like straight-talking.

Two rent cars at the airport, the other five take taxis. Each is preoccupied with their own complicated set of projects, projections, relationships. Each has dressed themselves exquisitely for this trip (more on which soon). They do not get to see one another so much these days, as they are all kept very busy. 

-

Ella is the first to arrive. She picks up the SUV at the airport and drives up along the one interior freeway, shaking her head more and more violently in amused disbelief at the apparently suicidal confidence of the other drivers on the island roads. When she arrives (the drive takes around twenty minutes) she parks in the broad gravel driveway, then takes some time going through the emails and messages from the people who have let them the house, searching for the code for the key safe attached to the doorframe. It doesn’t take her long to enter, and to make her round through the many rooms, to find a bedroom that suits her, to open her suitcase. She sits on the bed for half an hour or so, willing her mind to unspool, slow down. Then she decides to make a more comprehensive inventory of the interiors by walking them out before anyone else gets here. 

There are nine bedrooms, ranging in size. All of them have natural light. The one that she chooses is smaller, but further away from the main complex of sitting and dining rooms, and the kitchen. The floors are tiled throughout, even in the bedrooms. The kitchen is large, modern, well-appointed, with brushed steel appliances, obviously good-quality, with the sense of being bought all at once, and of being chosen by the designer or architect. There are two dining rooms, one large and formal, with carved, dark, wooden furniture, and a very high ceiling, and one informal, with glass french windows opening onto an arcaded and covered area at the back of the house, and views out across the downward slope of the mountain to the blue, glittering blanket of the sea. This covered space also has a large dining table and chairs set up beneath the canopy—which she thinks absently makes three of these dining areas in all, excessive even for a house of this size. She watches the sea from beneath the shaded eaves; watches the points of white light move across the iridescent blue surface and blur together. She is very far away from it but when she unfocuses her eyes she can imagine that the sea is right there in front of her; that she could reach out and touch it, even reach through it. Its smells of salt and its great noise of surf. When she refocuses her eyes it take a few seconds for the black and white dots to disappear from her vision. She finds the visual distortions and accompanying mild vertigo quite pleasant. Then the garden recoheres, with its brightly coloured trellises, its two pagodas, and its rampant and vital, dark, shining, foliage, and she decides to step down into it to explore.

Her encounters in the garden are peaceful, and very beautiful. We have spoken already of the trellises of flowers; there are eight of them, and they are thickly overgrown, but not so much that you cannot see through gaps in the blossoming vines that wind through their structure. She imagines watching another person through the gaps, catching flashes of smiling eyes and a smiling mouth. She imagines playing this game drunk, and smiles with the pleasure of this image. Then she moves past them into the shade of the trees planted further back— some ornamental, some bearing fruit. There are flies and wasps buzzing around, crawling over the bark of the trees, boring into the fruit, maybe laying eggs, hollowing them out from the inside, but the fruit is nonetheless exquisite; brightly coloured, taught, obviously ripe. There are apples and pears, those small, hard varieties native to the island, and there may be others that she cannot see. They look like fat, polished jewels, or like blown glass ornaments, resting in the shade, feeding predator insects, catching reflections and stray beams and particles of light, giving them back to the eye overgenerously.

Between the trees are shaded areas of lawn, which is growing over itself, totally out of control. She thinks that this lack of cutting back and good order makes an odd but also pleasant contrast to the well-kept interiors of the house. There are large patches of green grass that are exposed to the sun, and that glow vibrantly. Through the shaded area a low fence, the border of the property, and then a steep, rocky, slope of scree that angles down towards the lowlands of the city and the coast. Open air, the sea and the sky in the distance, both rising up like a wall summoned up from nothing to meet the ragged drop in the earth. 

Standing by the fence, looking out over the country, down the scree slope, and at the sky and the horizon of water, what she is most aware of is the sound of wind moving very high above her. There are no clouds at all, just the great invisible rushing and the empty space and the hot, flat sunlight, which smothers and drowns her. The rushing sound sounds like it comes from inside her body, in her throat or the back of her skull. Her feeling of vertigo returns. Light can be like smoke, she thinks. It can curl around you, you can breathe it in. Light like smoke has a smell. It smells like ozone; like luminous grass; like hot concrete. It deforms what it illuminates. I have lost my shape in this light; I am different. Then she thinks: I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t really know who I am any more. Thoughts like this are not uncommon for Ella these days. 

It’s while she is in the garden that Michael arrives in his taxi. Michael is the one in the group who knows Ella least intimately. He has actually made a mistake, he thought that everyone was arriving tomorrow, that he would have the house to himself to finish off some work before the rest of them got here. So when he finds the front door open, his first thought is that the people who rented them the flat have been broken into, or that their cleaners are still here, or that they are morons and that he might be able to request some restitution from them for leaving the house unsecured before his arrival. Then he notices the SUV and realises that someone, either Ella or Parvel, has already arrived. For a couple of seconds he experiences something nearly like panic. It isn’t panic, but it is close—a surprise that, in the moment, he can’t get around the edges of. He considers calling another taxi and staying the night in a hotel in town instead. Then he enters the house and walks through the rooms, the two dinings rooms, the kitchen, the many bathrooms, lounges, and bedrooms, saying ‘Hello? Hello?’ until he is totally convinced that no one is in the house. They must have gone for a walk he thinks. He notes the first arrival’s bedroom choice and makes sure that his has enough space between the two that they won’t be able to hear or disturb one another that night. 

He doesn’t unpack his suitcase. He simply lies back on the bed fully clothed, with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed, thinking about nothing. Slowly, over many hours, the light fades from the room. He barely breathes. His body and the bed that he lies on could be carved from one contiguous substance, from concrete or stone. Still he thinks of nothing, although very, very deep down his brain is processing things, metabolising, the way a snake does after eating something five times its size, resting underground, digesting for months. Eventually he hears the back door open, and, after several seconds, judiciously, because he does not want to scare anyone, he stands up and calls a friendly ‘Hello!’ out into the silent rooms, which have now all been stained with the colours of the evening. 

He hears the answering ‘Hello!’ and thinks that it has to be Ella. Then he moves out into the kitchen and sees her, and they hug and kiss one another on the cheek, and stand in the darkening room and catch up with what’s been happening in their lives. They are both polite, unselfconscious, and charismatic, and they both work to match these qualities in the other. Michael is busy with editing work, and Ella is busy with writing work. They talk about their projects with a sort of easy facility. It has been a long time since either of them found it difficult to talk to strangers about their creative and professional projects. Ella knows the press that Michael is working with at the moment, and Michael says that he is looking forward to reading Ella’s book when she finishes it, which makes her laugh, though she doesn’t really know why. It must be with happiness. 

After half an hour or so Ella says that she can’t be bothered with cooking and doesn’t even know if there is a supermarket around here, that they can check this in the morning, but that in the meantime they should order from somewhere, and Michael nods, so they spend some time gathered around his laptop, trying to figure out the local delivery processes. Neither has switched on any lights, and the house is now properly dark. In the end they order a pizza to share, and then move together to the arcade at the back of the property to watch the last of the orange and purple light fade from the sky. There are millions and millions of stars and they shine very brightly, and also many satellites, which are bigger, less bright, and more uniform, and which track across the sky with fixed speeds and directions, five or six visible at any given time. 

When the food arrives it is totally dark. They still haven’t turned any lights on, and when she sees the black windows of the house the courier assumes at first that she has made a mistake. But she tries the bell anyway, and makes a few cries of ‘Hello?’, and Ella hears her and yells back that she is coming, to wait there, that she needs to find her wallet. The courier waits patiently. When Ella does eventually emerge and the courier hands over the food she says ‘Why don’t you turn on the lights? I thought no one was home,’ which Ella ignores completely. 

The pizza is very good and very hot, and they both realise simultaneously that they are starving, which means that they don’t talk at all as they eat. Once they are done Ella says she wishes they had some beers or some wine with them, or even some spirits, and Michael agrees. Then she asks him if he is single these days, and he says that he isn’t, and hasn’t been for several years, and asks her if she is seeing anyone, and she says that she isn’t. She doesn’t say anything for a minute or two and then, with a strange feeling in her brain, something like TV static, or the doomed courage of a captain whose position is hopeless, but who is nonetheless determined to die well in combat, she asks if he and his partner are sexually exclusive, which he tells her that they are, keeping everything very breezy and light but of course leaving no room for any misunderstanding. She nods quietly in the darkness. Then she says wouldn’t it be funny if the house had some store of alcohol inside for guests, in the fridge or in the cabinets, like a hotel minibar, and suggests that maybe they should have a look.

But neither moves, and after a few more minutes of silence they decide to go to sleep, and say goodnight, and switch the lights on for the first time as each makes their way back to their respective rooms, each room or corridor along the route lighting up for a second or two as one of them moves through it, then returning to its darkness in sequence. Each performs their basic toilet in their own bathroom. They wash themselves, and brush teeth, and study their faces in mirrors. Then each lies in their bed and tries to sleep. Ella falls asleep quickly, and has nightmares; about suffocating, drowning, being strangled by someone whose face she cannot quite place; also about shame, specifically the shame of allowing herself to be killed in this way and not putting up a fight. 

Michael takes several hours to fall asleep, and he doesn’t dream at all, but when he wakes up the next morning it is in fear: his heart is beating very hard, and he has a sick feeling in his stomach, which also makes him feel sick in his head, like everything is wrong and nothing is ok, like he will never be ok again. He is used to letting these feelings pass, and this is what he says to himself in the morning, lying in the unfamiliar bed and watching the bright sunlight on the very white ceiling, and on the dark wooden blades of the ceiling fan: ‘You are used to letting these feelings pass, so just let it pass.’ It takes ten minutes or so, but it does pass, to his very great relief.  

Talent

I've been thinking about the Islanders again, and slowly noodling through a hexcrawl set in that region. This is for that. 

There are plenty of regional contests of strength and skill; the Baronials enjoy wrestling, boxing, and racing on foot, and skilled mercenaries are expected, in a social context, to be good at these things. The White City has enormous municipal gymnasium stadia, where the citizens train callisthenics together in public - they even have standardised sets of training weights, and 'classes' of physical fitness, which translate into perks and honours during military service. The nomads of the steppe hold regular competitions inside extended family groups to determine the best rider, the best swordsman, the best archer, and the best calculator, with prizes in marriage prospects, livestock, and cash raised by the family head, and stinginess looked down on.

The islanders of the Lantern Berth play Talent. Talent is something like baseball and something like rugby. There are two teams, and they line up facing one another at a fixed distance. Each team nominates a champion - for the the defence, this is the pitcher, and for the offence the batter. The batter retrieves a bat and the pitcher a ball, and they both advance in front of the 'line'. The pitcher pitches (there are rules that determine a legitimate or illegitimate throw), often with intent to injure the batter, and the batter hits the ball, hopefully past the defenders' line - then the offensive team run forward in a mob trying to make ground, and the defensive team tries to stop them. Talent is full contact and very rough. The defence end the offensive run by retrieving the ball and bringing it back past the original offensive line. When this happens, the position of the offensive batter on the pitch is marked, and the teams switch sides, with the new offence trying to advance further than their opponent.

Two plays (one for each team in each position) is a round, and Talent is usually played best of three rounds. For particularly important games it might be played best of five, and for ritual or jurisprudential purposes to seven, nine, or even more, as decided by the courts. 

For the islanders, Talent is part of their religious observance, their legal system, and their cultural understanding of public face and standing. In the most direct sense, the game is thought to make good sailors and good whalers. Teams that communicate well do better; teams made up of people who are fit, strong, and violent do much better. The Harpooners are known to scout their candidates from the Talent ground, although Harpooners themselves are legally barred from taking part in the game.

An informal game of Talent is played as and when, with whatever and whoever is to hand, and there are unspoken understandings about the appropriate level of violence and intensity in a friendly game of this type. A formal game of Talent is played on a marked pitch, in uniform, and with picked teams. This can also be friendly; an exhibition match, or two families marrying together, a way for the men and women of the house to display grit and canniness, or, more usually, to get shitfaced and knock one another around laughing like idiots. It can also be very serious. Talent is often played as a stand-in for a feud between families that might otherwise turn murderous, or to settle disputes between ship crews with grievances. It is also sometimes used as a sort of trial-by-combat stand-in by the courts, to determine guilt and innocence in a public arena. When played this way, the court provides a set of ritual implements - a metal bat, light and very hard, and one of many different balls, one of which the presiding judge will decide is appropriate, and which can favour the pitcher or batter depending on who the judge feels deserves a handicap based on evidence given to this point. In a court case, or in a game organised between aggrieved families, the teams are not necessarily equally picked - you simply show up with your people and they show up with theirs. People don't usually die, but it's not unheard of. 

During a serious game, a percussion band will play for the entire length of the game, from beginning to end. The music is repetitive and atonal, and skilled musicians are able to naturally ramp up the intensity when appropriate in-game. Islander percussion sounds a bit like this. 

The uniform for a game of talent is a loose, one-piece cotton costume, similar to the boiler suits of the White City, which is typically tied-off at the waist, wrists or above the elbow, and ankles or above the knee, with strips of material, to allow the limbs to work unimpeded. They are brightly dyed all one colour (the whole team will wear the same colour), and then embroidered with designs that represent the family, crew, profession, and achievements of the one wearing them. The outfit usually includes a cloth cap with a peaked brim, which is tied off under the chin, and which keeps the island sun out of the eyes of the player. Not all adults have a suit of their own, but they will usually have one made for an important game or a trial, roughly analogous to someone in our world buying themselves a suit for a court appearance. 

-

If you need to run a game of Talent in your game, do so as follows (complicated fiddly rules incoming):

Determine the teams, and their champions. You may declare a different champion each round, but every champion must play at least one full round (ie, one play batting, and one pitching) before being replaced. 

Pitching and batting are resolved as attacks.

The pitcher 'attacks' first, using their DEX or their WIS for the derived modifier.

They are looking to beat an 8 to throw a fair pitch - if they roll below this they foul and have to try again. If you foul three times, you forfeit the entire round (both the offensive and the defensive play), which is a total disaster. If you critically fail you do something embarrassing, and are jeered at and mocked by the rest of the players; you must save CHAR or roll at -1 on everything for the rest of the round. 

If you beat an 8, you pitch fairly, and the batter takes their attack. If you beat a 14, you pitch fairly and dangerously, and will 'bruise' the batter if they miss their attack. For every point of bruising, the batter rolls at -1 for the rest of the round (people are patched up between rounds like boxers). If you roll a crit on your pitch, the batter must roll a corresponding crit on their attack to defend it, or take bruising as above. 

The batter attacks next (they 'attack' the pitched ball coming at them), and may choose to use DEX or STR for their derived modifier. If DEX, roll normally and if STR, roll at -2. 

You are looking to beat 10 to bat a playable ball. If you fail to do this to three fair pitches, you forfeit the entire round, which is a disaster, as above. If you crit fail, you take a point of bruising as described above, regardless of whether the pitcher rolled well enough for the pitch to be dangerous. 

If you beat 18, you bat perfectly, and add +1 to the retrieval roll described below. If you crit, you add +2 to the roll. 

If your attack hits, roll d10 if you rolled DEX or 2d6 if you rolled STR on your 'attack'. This number is the retrieval score, and basically determines how long you have to run forward and scrum before the opposing team gets the ball back to your line and stops play. 

For the scrum itself, you have a few options: 

• You could run it simulationally, as a combat, in which no one is armed, and which stops after [retrieval] turns. I suspect this would take a long time and be quite boring. 
• You could run it as a mass combat, using whatever ruleset you favour. Everyone is unarmed, and teams are not necessarily equal in size. Run [retrieval] turns of combat, and tally up the damage that each side deals. Subtract the defender damage from the attacker damage, and make a note of the result. This is how far the attackers got. 
• Roll [retrieval] CON or STR saves for your batter champion. Roll +1 saves for every player you have over the enemy, -1 for every player they have over you, and a flat +2 either way if one team is obviously physically superior to the other. The defender pitching champion may save INT, WIS, or CHAR (they are directing their team's defence, and the efficient retrieval of the ball) to subtract a d4 from your total rolls. For each roll, you need to beat a 14. Tally your score. This is how far you got. Compare scores at the end of the round to see who won. 

At the end of each scrum, roll a d20 for everyone involved, or a d12 is the teams are playing with hatred in their hearts. One each result of a 1, that person is too injured to continue to the next play. If they are a PC they may save CON to avoid this fate. 

Misc notes:

• The ultralight metal bats kept by the Islander courts are made from asteroids that fall in the sea around the Lantern Berth, and are technically star weapons (+1 medium clubs outside of Talent play, +3 against anything roughly the size and shape of a baseball). They would be recognised as such by steppe nomads who saw them. The Islanders don't take kindly to being told this, and don't recognise or care about the Star People. 
• In a legal dispute, the judges will supply balls that give advantages and disadvantages to the pitcher or batter, depending on who they think is probably guilty. Nonetheless, the results of the match are legally binding.
• Islanders don't play Talent for all cases, and never for murder, arson, poisoning, or sabotage of a boat, because those crimes are the sole provenance of the Harpooners. A defendant has the right to demand a game, but there are circumstances in which the judges can deny this.
• Islander sailors are fond of bat tricks, and can teach them to YOUR character wouldn't that be so cool.

etc. etc. etc.

A Great Airy Chaos - A Hexflower for Barony

 

This one by way of Prime's challenge on discord. I've been wanting to try my hand at a hexcrawl for a while and haven't been able to grok it for whatever reason - I'm hoping that this exercise will stretch some of those muscles/clarify some of the procedures.

I also read this Skerples post about how many castles you can actually find in a heavily fortified six mile hex, and immediately thought it might be fun to do something with that. 

The kill squads, bandits, and mercenaries were generated using these tables. 

Any and all feedback extremely welcome!

Unrelated note: beloved Loch just posted a setting remix of the Barony Bravo class and I am stoked. You can see it here. 

A GREAT AIRY CHAOS

The Slo Gap

The Slo Gap is one of the few safe passes that lead up into the trade-rich northern mountains; because of this it has been strategically important for many centuries. Before the Barony was politically united, the Slo Gap was fought over incessantly by three of the nearby petty kingdoms, who heavily fortified it during their minor, savage conflicts. All three of these houses were extinguished in the unification wars against the colonising armies of the Old Capital, and their ancient keeps have since gone to ruin. The trade route is now taxed and maintained by the Baronial Agents, who operate from a fortified settlement named Slo Gate, built over the remains of the old ruins - it represents one of the furthest edges of direct Baronial control, and is widely considered a provincial hinterland where the regime's unfavourites are sent to be forgotten, or to die in ignominy. 

The Sump

The castles of the Slo Gap are arranged along the northern periphery of a fetid, muddy mire called the Sump, fed by many small mountain streams, and infamously treacherous. The lowest southern point of the Sump has been the depository for waste from the settlements in the area for longer than anyone can remember, and is locally called the Place of Abomination. Bodies buried there, or washed there over time, are said to move under the influence of evil spirits, and drink the blood of travellers. There are rumours that the Place of Abomination also marks a terminus for strange detritus bought upwards from the nighted underworld, though none have verified or this, or can say how it might be possible. 

Recently

The population of Slo Gate have been poisoned or infected with an unknown contagion, and the town has been placed under quarantine by the two Agents who administer it. The majority of the residents have already been infected, and those who are still healthy have barricaded themselves into the town's central keep with most of the food and all of the medicine, hoping to wait out the painful deaths of the sick. There have been many desperate attempts to storm the keep for these supplies, none successful.

Before they were trapped in place, the Agents managed to send a rider with news of the situation to the Baronial Capital, and a company of mercenaries was dispatched to pacify the region and ensure that the contagion spreads no further. They are known as The Favoured Band, and are of little renown. They will arrive in three days time. 

The collapse of central power has emboldened the bandits in the area, to the extent that the largest band, the Cat Men, have been seen moving unafraid along the roads close to the town. There is a general feeling that, once the sick defenders are too weak to defend themselves, the bandits may risk infection to expropriate the whole wealth of Slo Gate before the mercenaries arrive in force to lock things down. 

Keyed Territories of the Slo Gap

Note: all of these ruins are from before the Old Capital invasions, and the architecture is distinctly different from the post-colonial style. Walls are generally higher (there were no cannon back then), and the fortifications concentrate around tall keeps and towers, strong points that also function as chapels, with depressions meant for ritual bathing built into the ground levels. The curtain walls do not incorporate gatehouses or other sophisticated defences. 

All have been built from local pale stone, which glows luminously lilac-white against a dark sky. 

0102 - The First Cynan Ruin - Flatland

A flat, grassy hinterland that stretches to the foothills of the mountains. The air is cold and clear. The First Cynan Ruin was built near the border of 0201, and was the first attempt to control the area with fortification. 

A small stone and earth hut stands at the base of the ruined walls, the home of a hermit relic hunter. She will tell you anything that you wish to know about the surrounding area in exchange for food, and has a special fondness for sugar, tobacco, coffee, and alcohol. She also takes money in a pinch, but will want triple usual prices because it's hard for her to spend. If she likes you there is a good chance that she will give you information for free - she gets lonely. She hunts for grave goods in the burial sites scattered through the mire, and would normally sell them in town, but has stopped during the quarantine. She possesses long stilts that allow one person (minimum DEX 12) to traverse the mire unimpeded, and currently has d3 burial treasures (roll from the list provided below), d10+10 rations, and 2 large jugs of white alcohol in her hut. 

Stats as a commoner, and will protect her hearth and life with a belt knife and curses if threatened - the curses are nonmagical. She will not tell you, or does not remember, her name. She will never go to the Sump, and will do everything she can to convince you not to do so. She is not a killer. 

The First Cynan Ruin

The oldest castle in the region and the second smallest, built by the extinct Kings of Cynan to dissuade competitors from moving on the trade route. Still built with a stone curtain wall. The interior buildings, save the central stone tower, were built from timber and have not survived the centuries. 

The lengths of wall that remain intact are quite sturdy and would make useable defensive positions, but there are collapsed points and other sections that are visibly unstable. They will collapse on a 1 in 6 if disturbed - those affected must save DEX or take 2d10 crushed by masonry damage. The central tower has three floors still intact, and is likewise unstable: it has the same odds of collapse if entered. If you are inside the tower when it collapses, the damage is instead 4d10, or 2d10 is you pass your DEX save. 

The First Cynan Ruin has, over the centuries, been stripped completely bare by time and looters. It now contains nothing but smashed shards of pottery, glass, and shreds of dirty straw from more recent habitation. 

There is a bathing pool carved into the floor of the tower, its perimeter carved in Enochian with the canon of the early church, and especially with their invocations against plague. It is now filthy with age, but if cleaned and filled with pure water it will cure disease in the first person who bathes in it. The disease will eject from their pores as a red-black, oily liquid, and foul the bath permanently - this miracle will only work once. 

No one knows about this, although the carvings will explain it if you can read them. The only NPC in the region who speaks Enochian is the angel Pera. 

0103 - The Mire - The Mire Burials - Marshland

Flooded and boggy ground, which stinks and steams in the sun. The mire is impossible to cross to anyone wearing heavy armour, and drowning in the soft mud and silt is a real possibility. Even those travelling lightly will find the going slow. A single raised-earth road wends through the mire from east to west, terminating at Slo Gate - this is the path that the mercenaries will arrive on, and the only intact road in the area. 

The old inhabitants of this place buried their dead in 'Mire Burials', in which the deceased were folded into a foetal position, sealed into large glass, stone, and clay jars, and left to sink down into the muck. Some worthies were buried with treasure. 

If you wish to, you may spend an entire day searching the Mire for burials. Roll a d6 for each person searching: on each roll of 6, you find a burial. Locals find a burial on a 5 or a 6, and the hermit from 0102 finds one on a 4, 5, or 6.

A burial takes 4d10/[the number of people digging] hours (round down, minimum one) to excavate, if everyone involved has digging equipment (a shovel at minimum). If you don't have equipment, you will need to get creative. Once excavated, the burial contains:

• A large jar or cylinder of (roll a d3) glass, stone, or clay. Stone and clay are unpainted, but the glass burial caskets are transparent and tinted a vibrant blue, green, or red. 
• A mummified human body, packed with salt. There is a 1 in 4 chance that the salts used are poisonous on skin contact - CON save or d4 poison damage. 
• d4-2 grave goods (minimum 0), buried with the body in their own sealed containers of the same material as the jar. If that material is glass you will be able to see the contents without opening it. Roll on the following table for each:

Mire Burial Grave Goods

1. 2d10 clay coins, glazed with bright colours in geometric designs. They have been drilled with holes, designed to be strung together on a thong. They are worthless for trade, except as trinkets and curiosities, but a university, museum, or other collector will pay 20s each for them. 
2. A small dog, cat, or bird skeleton (even chances of each), with the neck vertebrae crushed.
3. A bronze torc, engraved along its length with an early and clearly non-canon sacred timeline. Worth 25s, or twice that to a collector. 
4. Sweet-smelling oil that burns like petroleum. Enough to refill a lantern twice, and can also be burned for its scent, which will allow anyone smelling it to sleep soundly for the night regardless of other factors (including curses, spells, and the like). Used like this, contains 10 doses. Worth 40s. 
5. A bronze helmet of archaic design, open at the face, preserved in crude oil. Adorned at the forehead with a strange sun of black glass, otherwise works as any helmet, but is worth 100s to a collector. 
6. The container is full of a dormant, pressurised slime mould that reacts with flesh to produce a powerful acid. Save DEX on opening (with advantage if you are wearing heavy armour or specialist protective gear), or take d6 acid damage. The slime mould will die quickly in sunlight or if exposed to salt, but will grow over two days to cover a surface area of 10ft in dark, wet conditions. The mould will maintain its acidic-reactive properties. 
7. An exquisite medium bronze sword, preserved in crude oil. Breaks on a critical miss due to its age, no other special properties. Worth 100s to a collector. 
8. A bronze death mask, with black glass settings at the eyes, and its face fixed in a broad grin. Preserved in crude oil, and embellished with additional glass disks, so that the wearer looks like they have six eyes instead of two. It renders the wearer immune to gaze attacks and acts as a pair of sun goggles if that's ever relevant. Worth 400s to a collector. The second and subsequent times you roll an 8, this is instead a minor hoard (see 10) worth d6x100s. 
9. A medium burnt hardwood club, preserved in sweet honey. -1 damage against medium and heavy armour, and -1 WIS to the wielder from the tinnitus buzz that cuts into the back of your mind while you use it. Bones broken with this weapon will never heal. Worth 500s to anyone who knows its properties. The honey inside the container can be used to sweeten up to 5 rations, doubling their effective quantity. The second and subsequent times you roll an 9, this is instead a minor hoard of jewellery (see 10) worth d6x100s. 
10. A hoard of fine jewellery of glass, tin, bronze, and painted clay, made in the ancient, pre-settlement Baronial style. A mixture or rings, pendants, diadems, chokers, chest harnesses, etc. Worth 2d6x100s. 

0201 - The Slo Gap - The Gatehouse - Mountainous

Sharply elevated terrain that forms the base of the nearest mountain, and the beginning of the Slo Gap proper. Covered in sparse grasslands and spires of black rock, with no trees anywhere. It is steep, and hard going to those travelling by foot. The stream that feeds the southern mire runs through this region, and is clean and drinkable. It is swift-running but shallow, and easy to ford along its length. 

The Slo Gap itself runs to the north, and is accessible only via a fortified Gatehouse manned with Mountaineer guards.

The Mountaineer Garrison

The Gatehouse to the north is manned against attack by a small garrison of local Mountaineers. They are skilled and experienced fighters, but have been taken by surprise by the speed at which the region has descended into chaos. There are 8 initiates and 14 guards, and they are captained by an Initiate NCO, Gargantua, whose whose face, fists, and forearms have been tattooed crimson. His statblock is identical to that of his fellows. 

Initiate: HD1+1, two unarmed attacks per turn (as light weapons), unarmoured (AC12 from combat reflexes), can run up walls and across the surface of water, can save DEX to catch one projectile per turn. Initiates enjoy yelling out the names of their strikes as they attack, and will loudly mock the weakness of those that they kill.

Guard: HD1, heavy falx sword, bow, medium armour. 

The Gatehouse

The Gatehouse is the only modern fortification in the area, outside of Slo Gap. It is built across the pass that leads up into the mountains, and consists of a strong, wide, low wall - the actual defensive buildings are built into its structure, around the iron-barred gate and portcullis.

The Gatehouse complex consists of a small barracks, a mess, a sparring room, and a shrine. There is also a large storage area built into an underground basement, with supplies to last the garrison for several months if necessary. They do not have any medicine with them. The guards are professionals, and keep constant watch on the lower territories. They have heard what is happening in Slo Gap, and will not admit strangers or open the gates under any circumstances. If they think that someone might try to storm the gatehouse, they will send two Initiates back up the mountain to warn the communities there, while the rest prepare to sell their lives dearly in its defence. 

0202 - Slo Gate - The Third Cynan Ruin - Flatland

Flat grasslands with long sight-lines, facilitating the easy defence of Slo Gate to the north of the hex. The road from the Mire runs from the Western edge through the town and then north into the mountains. The stream coming from the mountain slopes curves around Slo Gate to the east, before bending back around to its terminus in the Mire. 

To the east of this hex is the Third Cynan Ruin, where the bandits known as the Cat Men make their camp. 

The Baronial Agents - Slo Gate Garrison

The Baronial Agents, Silon and Paraval, are currently barricaded inside the Slo Gate keep, with the 22 other uninfected survivors of the town. They control the food, the weapons, and a small medicine stash. People have been killed on both sides, and no one in this standoff has any illusions about their chances should the defences fail. All that they want is to survive to this ordeal. They do not know whether their message got out or not, but both are professionals and not given to despair. 

Silon and Paraval are on-again-off-again lovers; currently off and catty. If they ever become sure of their own deaths they will do everything they can to spend their final moments together in privacy. 

Silon has 2HD, a medium sabre, and red-painted heavy plate armour. She attacks twice, can go without sleep for five days without ill effect (she is currently on day three), and knows when people are lying to her.

Paraval has 3HD, a medium sabre, and red-painted heavy plate armour. She is noticeably tall and broad, files her teeth to points, eats twice as many rations as a normal person, and once wounded ceases to feel pain (-1 to all physical damage, and whatever other effects the DM decides). She also attacks twice. The local bandits are terrified of her, and will test morale in a fight whenever she kills someone. 

Of the other survivors in the keep, 8 are trained men-at-arms and 14 are commoners. All are armed with medium armour, muskets, spears, and shields from the keep's armoury, but the commoners are not proficient in their use and have -1 to hit and damage rolls. 

The Infected of Slo Gate

There are 638 living infected in Slo Gate. They want to source medicine, and don't care where from. The barricaded keep is currently their only option. They have been attempting to chop through the wooden gates with axes, and have taken horrible casualties. Their next plan will be to light fires inside the walls using thrown petrol bombs, and to resume their axe assault while the defenders are engaged in firefighting. 

Sick people have no rights in the Barony. The infected can be killed completely legally, and most Baronials (certainly every NPC in this scenario) will do so without compunction. 

All have stats as commoners, are armed 50/50 with light and improvised weapons, with 1 in 3 wearing cobbled-together armour, counting as light. All carry the Unknown Pathogen (see below). 

2d20 infected will die or become incapacitated each day, until the rest are massacred by the Favoured Band. 

Slo Gate

The garrison town of Slo Gate, built upon the Second Cynan Ruins about 200 years ago, once had a population of around 2500 - now less than 700 remain. It was only a week ago that the plague broke out, but when it did things went downhill quickly. A large part of the population were killed in an initial purge orchestrated by the Baronial Agents, and the rest have since succumbed to their illness or been killed in their attempts to force entry into the keep.

The town is organised around a central square in front of the keep, bordered by the functionary and municipal buildings, and the main town artisans, boarding houses, stables, and goods stores. A wealthy residential district of some thirty stone houses stretches away behind the keep, and the rest of the town is made up of poorer houses, mostly made from timber. 

Slo Gate has not been pillaged or looted, and its wealth, such as it is, remains intact. The wealthy district, if thoroughly picked clean, holds 15000s worth of trinkets, silverware, petty cash, etc. The poorer houses hold an additional 6000s worth. There are trade goods of all kinds worth a combined 30000s in the town, but these would require many wagons to move. This is the wealth that the Cat Men covet. 

The Keep is a four story tall tower with a strong, barred gate, and murder holes that allow the defenders to fire on those at the base of the walls. It is effectively impregnable to the infected trying to break in, and there are currently 176 dead bodies littering the area in front of the gate that attest this. The infected plan to set the timber roofing on fire is more wishful thinking than a real option - not many of them can currently throw a petrol bomb over the walls in their condition, and those that make it over will be beaten out by the defenders before they properly catch. The Keep is stocked with powder and shot, supplies to last several months, water casks to last two weeks, and a small Baronial treasury, containing 8000s. 

The Cat Men

The Cat Men are the largest bandit group in the area, and more of a loose association of gangs and warbands than an organised force. They wear blue sashes, half-capes, and flags. They have recently taken advantage of the local confusion to set up a makeshift camp in the Third Cynan Ruin, where the plot to attack and loot Slo Gap, killing the infected there without themselves becoming sick, before the Favoured Band arrive. 

The Cat Men are led by a loose association of elected captains, who vote on major decisions, 14 of them at present. All have the same stat block: HD2, pistol and medium sword, medium armour. 

They also have a champion within their ranks called Belit, who they rely on to kill difficult targets. He is an apostate God Warrior, and enjoys fighting people nude and oiled. Belit is HD4, makes three unarmed attacks per round (each hitting for d8), and cannot be effectively grappled while oiled. While fighting one-on-one, Belit breaks an opponent's limb (choose which at random) on a critical hit. He recovers 1hp per enemy he kills with his bare hands. 

There are 126 Cat Men in addition to the captains and champion. They have stats as bandits. 

The Third Cynan Ruin

The Third Cynan Ruin was built in response to the invasions of the Belaton Kings, and in particular to match the construction of their great Castle Belaton. The Third Ruin is much larger and more sophisticated than the First - its curtain wall is intact, and there are four tall towers spaced around its interior, each four stories high. Many smaller stone buildings remain intact, most of them built along the inside of the curtain wall. The ancient gates have been destroyed, but that gap has been fortified with a timber palisade, installed by the current occupants.

The Third Ruin is currently invested by the Cat Men, whose tents, lean-tos, and fire pits take up most of the interior area. They are waiting for their opportunity to attack Slo Gate.

The four towers and lower stone buildings are currently being used for storage. The Cat Men have enough supplies to last them several weeks, as well as the weapons, consumables, and equipment required for a group of their size. They do not have any medicine. 

The tops of the towers are manned on rotation, but not the walls themselves (they don't have the manpower). Spirits are high in the camp; the Cat Men have the feeling of impunity now that their great enemies, the Baronial Agents, have been trapped in Slo Gap. They will cheerfully kill and loot anyone they come across. They expect to be gone before the Favoured Band arrive. 

The Captains, and the champion Belit, have commandeered one of the towers as their own. The supplies of the bandits have been spread across the encampment, but their treasure is stored in this tower. 10d20+2000s in mixed currency and jewellery, kept in a locked iron chest on the third floor of the tower, to which Belit holds the key. Two Wild Dogs (see encounter tables below) have been chained to the wall next to the chest, with enough slack to savage anyone trying to take it or pick the lock, but not enough to attack one another.  

If the Cat Men begin to fracture, take 30 percent casualties, or luck otherwise turns against them, d6 of the 14 Captains will try to kill Belit and the dogs, take the key and chest, and flee the region under cover of night. 

If left to their own devices, they will misjudge the arrival time of the Favoured Band, and launch an ill-fated defence of their makeshift fortification. Most of them will die in the fight, and the rest (4d8 survivors) will scatter through the region. If they are routed this way, Belit will always survive with a small band of d8 followers. 

0203 - The Sump - The Sump Burials - The Cauldron - Marshland

In this region the marshland is obviously rotten and foul. It stinks horribly, and cloys at those who pass through it. Local hirelings will need to test loyalty to enter the Sump. There are no roads here. Burials can be discovered just as they can in the Mire, using an identical procedure. If the bodies uncovered in this region are exhumed they will animate - see the Salt-Interred stats bellow. 

In the centre of the hex is a black stone shaft that leads down into the earth. The locals call it the Cauldron, or the Cradle, but no one can remember why. Most people will understand that you are adventurers, and so have to be actively warned against going to the Cauldron, unlike sane people. It is terribly cursed, it is a place of no honour, you will die there, like an animal, screaming into the poison mud. 

The Cauldron

The Cauldron is a narrow, black stone shaft, about two feet wide, that descends directly downwards into the earth. Its mouth is located at the top of a low hill deep in the Sump. It's hard to find if you don't know where it is, and no one in the region does except the hermit, who won't tell you. It is guarded by 3 Salt-Interred, standing contorted and very still, like fucked up scarecrows. There are also 28 stripped human bodies lying in the muck at their feet. They will animate and start sprinting towards you as soon as you get within 50ft. 

The Cauldron is a simple shaft, but it is filled with infected crude oil whose level rises and falls as the great invisible pressures from below shift. About ten days ago, the crude oil rose to the lip of the Cauldron and spilled out into the Mire, bringing with it the Unknown Pathogen. 

The Cauldron cannot be easily sealed, as the pressure build up from below will usually force the material up explosively regardless of what is forced into it. If you light the oil inside on fire it will burn until extinguished, and the smoke will carry the Unknown Pathogen. A large demolition explosive, powerful enough to collapse the shaft itself, might seal the Cauldron more permanently. 

The Salt-Interred

Ancient mummies from the pre-imperial Baronial culture, animated by methods unclear. They look like large bog mummies, with their eyes replaced with the same material that their burial jar was built from - coloured glass, stone, or clay. Their presence is accompanied by rushing air, high in the sky.  

They are tall, leathery, fast, silent, and terrifyingly strong. They attack with their bare hands. The sharp-eyed will notice something strange about this: their apparently normal human fingers slice like razors, and at a distance of around 10cm from what they cut. 

HD4, telekinetic claws (as dual heavy slashing), unarmoured, movement: rage zombie, disposition: rage zombie. 

The Salt-Interred take half damage from physical attacks and move completely silently. They don't leave tracks on the earth that they move over - this is especially noticeable when they walk through water, which is not disturbed by their passing. 

Salt-Interred immediately become inanimate for one hour if perceived by anyone with the ability to see through illusions.

0302 - The Belaton Ruin - Forested

The pine forests in this area are not especially thick, but they provide game and cover for the bandits of the region. 

The Belaton Ruin was once the largest castle in the area, though the majority of the structure was torn down when the castle fell to its enemies. It is situated in the centre of the hex. What remains intact are a few squat towers, wall sections, and paved squares. The Kings of Belaton were the great enemies of the Kings of Cynan for many generations, and built this fortress in an attempt to wrest control of the gap by force. The Belaton royals were popularly thought to be demons, and were burned to death in iron cauldrons by the armies of the Old Capital when the region fell under imperial control. 

There are parts of the Belaton Ruin that are still intact, but they are uninhabited because they are haunted as fuck. This region has its own map and encounter table, as follows: 

The Belaton Ruin. Click to make it bigger. 

All walls are white stone. All doors are wooden with bronze reinforcement, suspiciously new for a ruin of such age. The building is lit with evenly throughout with bronze braziers, whose flickering orange light gives the space a glazed, dreamlike feeling.

Anyone with truesight or another ability that lets them see through illusions will see neither the doors in their recesses, nor the braziers and their light. All rooms in the dungeon, with the exception of 9. Hall/Cooking Room, will appear to them as empty, filthy white stone rooms. This will not stop their companions from seeing the things described below, and being able to interact with them - they can actually see in the light of the apparently non-existent braziers, for example, which their truesighted companions will not be able to do. Simply telling someone who sees the ruin as it once was that what they see is not real is not enough to dispel the vision. 

Most of the enemies in the Belaton Ruin follow this logic. They are not quite illusions in the classic sense, more like overlapping realities, and 'knowing' that they are not real when you can see them will offer you no defence against their attacks. If you somehow acquire truesight during your time in the ruin, all of this will disappear immediately (any wounds you have sustained to that point will remain). Loot taken in the 'illusion' is real when you leave it. 

Entrance to the ruin can be gained through any of the ruined sections in the southeastern corner of the map - these are collapsed, and open to the surrounding country. 

None of the monsters in this dungeon will willingly enter 9. Hall/Cooking Room. 

Keyed Rooms

1. Northwest Tower. This room stinks of blood and offal, and the pale stone walls and floor have been splashed with crimson. There are flayed and dismembered human remains pushed against the walls, and three Belaton Companions squatted down and picking through the carnage, draped in freshly-peeled human skins. They will stiffly enquire if you are friends of Belaton or Cynan, in the ancient tongue of the Old Barony. If you can't answer, they will attack, but if you can, and tell them that you are their allies, they will tell you impatiently that there are still many enemies to slay at the castle gates, and to be about your business there. 
2. Northern Passage. White stone, the smells butchery, firelight dancing on the walls. 
3. Northeast Tower. A single, badly wounded (treat HP roll as minimum) Belaton Companion kneels in the centre of the room, and massages her biceps and shoulders as she intones her kill count to the name of god. This was a common form of prayer in the very early days of the church, when the timeline was first discovered by the ancient saints, and the angels brought lists of thousands of names, and whole families and kingdoms, that were to be extinguished by crusade. She carries fourteen human heads by their hair. 
4. Glass Room. Blue, green, and red stained glass jars hold burning oil, and light this room unevenly white where all three land. The shadows dance madly, in all colours. Queen Belaton stands here, accompanied by four of her Belaton Companions. They stand between five-foot-tall bronze containers, full of white salt, which they are using to pack the wounds of a slain Companion. She will ask you if you serve her in Old Baronial - your aspect is unusual. If you say nothing, she will order you killed, but if you say 'no' she will smile, and give you the chance to kneel, and accept her charge for the duration of the war. You will be richly rewarded, should you show valour and loyalty. Any PC who accepts her offer and kneels is lost permanently to the nightmare of the castle; their face will appear on the Companions in the dream, and they are effectively destroyed. Roll a new PC. Killing Queen Belaton will cause the castle's haunting to warp and distort - all monsters, gore, and filth disappear from it for one hour, and the castle appears empty and pristine to those ensnared in its illusions. At the end of this period, the illusion 'resets' to the state described in this writeup. None of the illusions will remember you between resets. 
5. Salt Room. Storage of 12 five-foot-tall bronze salt containers. Guarded by 4 Belaton Levies, wild-eyed and frightened out of their wits. 
6. Clay Room. A single Belaton Companion on hands and knees, scooping wet clay from a bronze tub, and laboriously sculpting a human form from it. He is covered in wet clay, and ignores you completely. He is unarmed: if attacked, he will fight with hands and teeth. He is weeping. 
7. Lead Room. A completely empty room - uniquely in the ruin, its walls are sheets of lead, and not white stone. The soft, dark surface has been pitted and scratched into by parties unknown - if you can read Old Baronial, you will see that the graffiti is mostly religious, both prayers and curses. You can smell the cool metal, and layered underneath it the carnage in the rest of the castle. 
8. Western Passage. Manned by 2d6 Belaton Levies, looking for things to kill. Their expressions are utterly hopeless, and the floor is sticky with gore. If you can speak Old Baronial, you might be able to stay their attack by telling them you fight for Belaton. 
9. Hall/Cooking Room. This large room looks deserted, dark, and abandoned, as it does in the present day, even to those under the spell of the castle's illusions. It is echoing and empty, but for a large iron cauldron on clawed feet, like an old bathtub, in its centre. For every ten seconds that someone spends in this room, they must test CHAR. For each failure, they lose one temporary CHAR, and must roll on the following table, and do their best to perform the action listed: 1 - climb into the cauldron. 2 - stack flammable material beneath it. 3 - light the flammable material. 4 - douse themselves with flammable oil. 5 - douse whoever is in the cauldron with flammable oil. 6 - set themselves alight. Being inside the cauldron while a fire has been lit beneath it deals d8 damage per turn; setting yourself alight does d6 per turn or d8 if you were doused in oil, until someone takes a full turn to put you out. All temporary CHAR loss is regained at a rate of 1/day. 
10. Ruined Eastern Passage. White stone, the sounds of wind in the sky above, firelight dancing on the walls. 
11. Kitchens. The wind in the distant sky howls and howls; a great, invisible storm of black air. Wooden tables, bronze amphorae, wine in bowls, freshly cut meat, salt and herbs in dishes. The Royal Wose clings the ceiling of this room, grinning and awful. 
12. Ruined Store. The sounds of wind holwing above you. Wooden racking filled with casks and barrels of grain, oil, salt, and other necessaries.
13. Southwest Tower. The floorspace is packed with headless corpses, dressed in livery that someone who knows their history will recognise as that of Cynan house troops. A single Belaton Companion is tying the heads, maybe 60 of them, to 10 foot long bronze spears arranged in tripods. This was another ancient form of worship, which sees its continuation in the decapitations of the Church Assassins, and other particularly devout soldiers - the heads are collected and displayed to the angel accountants, who mark them from their tallies. The Companion will ignore you, but will defend himself if attacked. 
14. Ruined Southern Passage. White stone, howling storm winds, soft firelight. The castle is oddly quiet. 

Encounters

Most of the encounters in the Belaton Ruin are included in the room keys. Since the illusion resets over time, they will never be naturally depleted. If the PCs make excessive noise, or spend hours in a room, roll a d6:

• 1-2: Nothing but the wind, and the softly flickering firelight. 
• 3-4: d8 Belaton Levies, just hoping to survive the slaughter. 
• 5: d4 Belaton Companions, looking to add heads to their tallies. 
• 6: The Royal Wose! It has tracked you since you entered the ruin, biding its time. Now it drops from the ceiling with its hinged jaw clacking awfully, hoping to bite you in half. 

Bestiary

Belaton Levy

The human populations of the ancient kingdom, pressed into its wars of aggression as chaff infantry, and abandoned to deaths of no honour in the slaughter. They are dressed in the ancient baronial style: white linen tunic, bronze armour, with sparse ornamentation of brightly coloured wood, clay, and stained glass. 

HD1, medium sword or spear and shield or medium sword and 2x javelins, light armour. 

Belaton Companion

The house troops and confidants of the Belaton Royalty, who also show their strange physical transformation. The Companions are pale skinned and nearly eight foot tall, with long, well formed limbs and bodies, and cruel, beautiful faces. They fight nearly naked, save for their rich harnesses of cut glass, painted clay, and cast lead. In the old stories, the Companion bands were lovers, of one another, but also of their royal charges. 

HD3, heavy bronze spear, unarmoured (AC12 from heroic build and pain tolerance).

Companions attack twice with their spears, and deal fear damage equal to their physical damage. They can also throw their spears as heavy javelins, and have +2 to hit and +1 expanded crit range when they do so. 

They run and jump twice as fast as normal humans, and do not feel fear or fatigue. They each wear 200s worth of ancient jewellery (only half price to people who don't know or care about its provenance). 

Queen Belaton

God save us from the Queen! Of her infamous congress with demons, little is now known. If you can speak with her in person she will assure you that she answers only to god. She stands a head taller than even her Companion Troops, and enjoys nothing more than testing her terrible strength against armed enemies, and pulling the heads from the corpses she leaves. 

HD6, 2x unarmed attacks (as medium hammers), heavy bite (-2 to hit, heals her for the same damage that it deals), Royal Panoply (as medium armour, but inflicts -2 to hit if the attacker has ever panicked per the fear damage rules), A Leaden Crown (immune to psychic damage if you're royalty, simply heavy if you're not), movement: as her Companions, disposition: pious, arrogant, cruel, amused, intrigued by bravery, offended by cowardice. 

Queen Belaton deals fear damage equal to all other damage. She is draped in 2000s of exquisite stained glass and lead jewellery. 

Royal Wose

The Queen's favoured pet and most important advisor, actually still 'living' and haunting the ruin in the present day. This means that the Wose is the only monster who can be seen and fought by those who cannot see illusions. 

A large humanoid puppet, made from carved bone and wood, with long white 'hair' (plaited cord) and a sharp, snapping jaw. The Royal Woses were an important part of the royal culture of the ancient Baronials, and formed a sort of universal, archetypal foil to the dignity and authority of the monarch. 

HD6, 2x heavy claws, bite (see below), armour as chain, takes -1 damage from psychical attacks as it is mostly made from hardwood. Movement: giant puppet, disposition: territorial and opportunistic killer. Has a weird sense of humour, and enjoys scaring people before it disembowels them. 

The Wose can climb on walls and ceilings as spiderclimb, and moves totally silently. It enjoys using these abilities to stalk its prey, and attack isolated or vulnerable enemies. A crit with its claws indicates a bite instead: the target must save DEX or CON (their choice), or be decapitated. 

The slaying of the Wose will not dispel the illusions of the Belaton Ruin, but it will cause every one of the Salt-Interred to immediately and permanently revert to inanimacy. Unlike other inhabitants of the Ruin, the Wose will not 'reset' when the illusion does, and can be destroyed permanently. 

0303 - The Greysin Ruin - Forested

The pine forest here is thick and dark - the woodcutters from Slo Gate usually work further to the north. The closeness of the vegetation and the omnipresent mists mean that all parties in this region roll to surprise at +1.

The Greysin Ruin was the last fortification raised in the area, and the smallest - a squat, utilitarian keep designed as a simple staging area for the Greysin Regulars who once contested it. The ruin is still mostly intact, and is currently occupied by Pera's Boys, a nobility kill-squad masquerading as local bandits. They are looking to use the current chaos to further their employer's agenda in the region. 

Pera's Boys

Pera's Boys are a kill squad sent into the region from one of the nearby petty kingdoms. They are disguised as simple bandits, but have a specific objective: to capture a sample of the Unknown Pathogen and bring it back to their employer. This is extremely illegal, and they will be executed and disavowed if their mission is discovered. A sample could be a living victim, an infected corpse, or a container of infected petroleum. 

Currently camped in the Greysin Ruin. There are 12 of them, each with the following stats: HD1+1, armed with medium blackened swords and crossbows, light armour. 

The Boys are trained professionals. Their attacks deal +d6 damage from surprise, and they roll stealth and related checks at advantage. 

Pera itself is an assassin angel currently in possession of a cloth mannequin body: it has been seconded to the petty kingdom in payment of church debts. 

Pera's mannequin body has 2HD, a heavy pair of cutting shears (on a crit the target must save CON or lose a limb), and is unarmoured. It moves in total silence and never takes fall damage. The body can be repaired by any of the Boys with a needle and thread, which heals 1hp per five minutes of work. Pera itself, the mind controlling the body, can be targeted separately with psychic damage and similar - it has 10hp. Pera is a very young angel: loyal, fearless, and devoid of mercy. The Boys are all very religious, and will not test morale while their angel commander lives. 

The Greysin Ruin

The Greysin Ruin was the last fortification built in the area, and it is also the smallest. It was initially constructed as a simple watchtower, and only later converted into a staging post for kill teams and other operations. The Kings of Greysin were more interested in regional disruption than in holding territory. 

It is composed of a low, squat stone tower two stories tall, and a wall of the same height, encircling only enough territory for a stables, barracks, and mess. Like the other castles in the area, the buildings themselves have been stripped bare, but the stone walls are in good condition. 

The Greysin Ruin is being used as a staging area by Pera's Boys. They do not light fires at night, and would be difficult to spot if you did not know that they were there. They have with them: medicine (including curatives) for the entire squad, rations, horses, a single demolition petard that could blow open a fortified gate, and annotated maps of the region, including all major sites and the forces invested in each. They don't know about the Cauldron, or the Salt-Interred. 

If uninterrupted, Pera's Boys will make three night attempts to retrieve the body of one of infected in Slo Gate. The third attempt will succeed, and they will exfiltrate the area with their prize, unbeknownst to the other payers in the area. 

The Favoured Band

The Favoured Band are a mercenary company dispatched by the Baroness to enforce the quarantine, and contain the disease by killing everything in the region. They will arrive in the area in three days, on the road in the Mire, and will march on Slo Gate when they do. They are lead by the ambitious young general Gestah, who wants to execute her contract efficiently and without fuss.

Gestah is not particularly cruel, but she is unimaginative and will default to ordering people killed in most situations. She is vulnerable to flattery, the promise of important contacts and introductions back in the capital, and fine jewellery in the current fashions - any of these might convince her to spare your life, as long as you show no sign of contagion. 

Gestah has 3HD, is armed with a showy and impractical Hatesteel sword and a +1 pistol, armoured in +1 plate, and is wearing 1200s worth of jewellery on her harness. She also carries an expensive compass and spyglass. She is not expecting to fight personally. 

She commands 900 heavy infantry, 100 light infantry, and 200 shooters. 

Her heavy infantry are men at arms with plate armour, shields, and medium warhammers. Four of them are Sergeants with 2HD and pistols, and they are led by a Captain, with 3HD, a heavy greatsword, a pistol, and +1 plate.  

Her light infantry are men at arms with light armour, medium swords and shields, and bows. They are led by a Scout Captain, with 2HD and a pistol in addition to his basic kit. 

Her shooters are men at arms with muskets, medium swords, and light armour. They are led by a Captain with 2HD, plate, a heavy greatsword, and a pistol.  

The Favoured Band will quickly and easily kill everyone in the area with minimal casualties if they are not interfered with. When they arrive, and unless they are stopped, they will:

• Spend a day massacring every one of the infected in Slo Gate, losing d8 heavy infantry.
• Spend a day breaching the Keep and killing the defenders to a man, losing 4d8 heavy infantry. 
• Spend a day attacking, defeating, and routing the Cat Men in their fortress, losing 4d12 heavy infantry, d12 light infantry, and d12 shooters. 

They carry large quantities of medicine in their supply train, and are themselves in no danger of contagion as long as it is not destroyed. If it is destroyed the situation changes rapidly. Gestah will vacillate between completing her contract and exposing her troops to the Unknown Pathogen, and after two days of this half of the Band will desert. After this happens she will retreat back to the capital, whether or not her objectives have been accomplished.  

The Unknown Pathogen

See these rules for disease and medicines. 

Virulence: 0-1

Stage One (2 days): Loss of the ability to focus vision, giving the infected -1 to hit with ranged weapons, and any check relying on visual acuity. A sound that no one else can hear, which sounds like the rushing of air very high in the sky above you. You don't hear it indoors. Your saliva, blood, waste, and sweat are contagious. 

Stage Two (4 days): Vision continues to deteriorate; the malus to checks and ranged attacks is now -2. The infected develops a permanent 1000 yard stare, and the whites of their eyes darken like a bruise, which together are quite disconcerting: -1 to reactions with other humans, even if they are not aware that you are infected with something. You automatically fail any check to see through or disbelieve illusions, and lose any true-seeing or similar ability that would let you do this. The great rushing noise is closer now, and drowns out the voice of anyone not right next to you. 

Stage Three (4 days): The eyes darken fully. They look like tunnels, or pits. You are surrounded by the movements of black air; you cannot effectively see anything beyond thirty feet in front of you, make all rolls at -2, and are effectively deaf. 

Stage Four (4 days): You are effectively blind and deaf, and you howl and scream unceasingly. Everything around you is chaos and obscurity. Curatives are no longer effective. At the end of this stage in the infection, you begin to sweat dark liquid and die. Your internal organs are black like tar. 

Encounter Tables

Roll a d6, and consult the table that corresponds with the terrain type you find yourself in. 

Flatland

1. 4d8 goats and their herder, a young man with big, soulful eyes. His hut will be close by. Eyes you warily but will trade rations (goat meat and milk) for coin or luxuries. Warns you to leave the area immediately; everyone is going mad. Further rolls of 1 are the same guy and the same goats - he ranges pretty far. Oddly enough an A template fighter when he needs to be, although unarmoured and carrying only his staff. Inexplicably, immune to illness (he is unaware). 
2. 2d6 Wild Dogs. HD1, bite as medium weapon, unarmoured, +1 damage if you are below half HP, or panicking. 1 in 6 chance that they are infected with the Unknown Pathogen. 
3. 2d4 Cat Men, a foraging party. Absolutely not looking for a fight. If forced to do so, they will prefer to flee. Carrying d10 rations per member in sacks. If you let any of them flee, the next roll of 3 on this table will instead count as a 4. 
4. 2d10 Cat Men, a combat patrol. Lead by a Captain, absolutely looking for a fight. Drunk or high, and most of them enjoy killing people. 
5. A mated hunting pair of Terror Birds, seven foot tall and powerfully built. They are quite intelligent, and will only attack if you look weak, stalking you from a distance until you do. Each has 3HD, a heavy Killing Beak which uses d12s when it crits, and runs five times your speed. They can be bought off with d4x20s worth of jewellery, which will convince them to leave you be. If they are killed, further results of 5 yield nothing but silence. If they are instead bribed, further rolls of 5 result in the pair bringing the PCs d10 rations of freshly killed game. 
6. One of the Salt-Interred, sprinting towards you in total silence. If one of your party can see through illusions, you will instead see it standing in the distance, completely still, and hear the sound of rushing air high above you. 

Marshland

1. d3 Bog Men, human dwellers in the marshlands, fishing with long wooden spears. The Bog Men are considered mad and dangerous by the settled people in the area, but they are non-hostile and will beg for their lives or flee if attacked. They have stilts that allow them to walk through the Mire unimpeded, and each carry d6 rations in marsh fish that taste like mud. They will trade these for luxuries, but not for money. If encountered in the Sump, they are noticeably dissociated, have no rations, and are impossible to have a conversation with. 
2. 2d6 Wild Dogs. HD1, bite as medium weapon, unarmoured, +1 damage if you are below half HP, or panicking. 1 in 6 chance that they are infected with the Unknown Pathogen. If encountered in the Sump, they are always infected. 
3. 5d6 Bastard Worms, three foot long, segmented vermin who use their barbed bodies to inflict gashing wounds on living prey, then eat them alive when blood loss makes them too weak to resist. 1hp, Barbed Whip-Tail (d3 slashing), AC 6. Bastard Worms will ignore everything to feed on a dead, unconscious, or prone victim, and deal double damage to these targets using their lamprey mouths. AOE attacks kill as many worms as they deal damage.
4. One of the feared marsh Cocodrils erupts from the muck and tries to drag someone under. HD6, massive Killing Jaws (on a crit the target must save CON or lose a limb), armour as leather. If the Killing Jaws hit, the Cocodril automatically grapples its target and drags it down into the marsh. The target must save STR to break free, and takes an additional d10 damage per turn it spends so-grappled. Others who wish to target to Cocodril while it is under the marsh roll to hit at disadvantage, and on a critical miss instead hit the person grappled.  
5. One of the Salt-Interred, sprinting towards you in total silence. If one of your party can see through illusions, you will instead see it standing in the distance, completely still, and hear the sound of rushing air high above you. 
6. d3 Salt-Interred, sprinting towards you in total silence. If one of your party can see through illusions, you will instead see them standing in the distance, completely still, and hear the sound of rushing air high above you. 

Forested

1. 2d6 fairies, whose homes are the ancient pine trees. They will appear in a sparkling cloud of will-o-wisps, and buzz around the PCs with wide eyes, grabbing at clothing, weapons, and shiny things and making 😮 faces. You can chase them off by shooing them away, in which case you will never see them again, and further rolls of 1 will yield nothing but silence with a mien of hmph. If you kill one (-6 to hit but they only have 1 HP), all remain fairies will each deal 1 point of damage to a random target before disappearing. If you allow them to 'borrow' d3 rations, d3 silver, or a shiny piece of glass, they will consider you friends, and immediately cure any wounds, disease, or fatigue that you have using their fairy magic, before disappearing back into the woods, dancing and giggling. If you give them sugar in any quantity they will perform a series of oddly serious military salutes, and the bravest among them, Perilwyn, will swear fealty to you, and join your adventures. Roll on the table to see what kind of fairy Perilwyn is. His first act on joining will be to mark your map with a :(( at the location of the Greysin Ruin and Pera's Boys, who he considers his great enemies and banes (they're so boring). You can encounter the fairies more than once as long as you keep them on side, but only one of their number will ever join you. 
2. 2d6 Wild Dogs. HD1, bite as medium weapon, unarmoured, +1 damage if you are below half HP, or panicking. 1 in 6 chance that they are infected with the Unknown Pathogen. 
3. Pera the Assassin Angel, scouting by itself. Will try to murder vulnerable or isolated targets, but will flee if engaged by serious resistance. If it escapes, the next roll of 4 on this table instead counts as a 5. 
4. 3d4 of Pera's Boys, accompanied by Pera itself. They will be wary, but will not necessarily try to kill you on sight. They might want help with their mission, and don't really have enough people to risk fighting capable and motivated opponents without a good reason. You can negotiate here. They won't trade medicine for anything, and won't admit their true purpose. 
5. d6 Dire Feral Cats. HD2, claws as dual medium weapons, unarmored, +2 damage from ambush. Can save DEX to avoid a killing blow, once. 
6. One of the Salt-Interred, sprinting towards you in total silence. If one of your party can see through illusions, you will instead see it standing in the distance, completely still, and hear the sound of rushing air high above you. 

Mountainous

1. The travelling merchant Mr Bella, and his ox cart. Mr Bella is an enormous white ape in a three piece suit. He is very friendly, but also very intense, and quite unnerving to be around up close. He sells rations and other adventuring sundries at the usual prices, and will buy stimulants at three times their price - he cheerfully admits to an addiction, but assures you that he is 'extremely high functioning'. He is also the only person in the region who will willingly part with medicine - he sells prophylactics and painkillers at ten times the usual prices. If Pera's Boys have been killed, he will be selling Pera's inert mannequin body, shears, and d3 doses of curatives, each for 300s. If the Baronial Agents have been killed, he will have one of their crimson suits of heavy plate armour for sale for 400s, and d3 doses of curatives for 300s each. He will warn you that being caught wearing the red armour of a Baronial Agent is illegal impersonation, and punishable by death. If attacked, Mr Bella will defend himself with vigour and elan. He has HD5, a medium bowie knife strapped to his leg, a blunderbuss in the cart that he fires in one hand like a pistol, and a thick wool/tweed blend that counts as light armour. He will also call to his brother, Mr Tomb, who usually waits in the cart, and who looks identical (and has identical stats and gear), but with a chiller, though no less violent, mien - Mr Tomb's addiction is to sedatives. They will eat the corpses of those that they kill with gusto. 
2. 2d6 Wild Dogs. HD1, bite as medium weapon, unarmoured, +1 damage if you are below half HP, or panicking. 1 in 6 chance that they are infected with the Unknown Pathogen. 
3. 2d6 Yeti, the long-furred white apes indigenous to the mountain territories north of the Barony. HD1+1, dual light claws or a single medium bite, unarmoured. A Yeti attacking from surprise can attempt to strangle its prey, a unique grapple that deals d8 damage per turn it remains unbroken, and that keeps its victim silent for the duration. Yeti are known as kidnappers and maneaters. They are intelligent enough to set ambushes, but cannot speak, and flee like beasts do if exposed to fire, explosives, or casualties.
4. The Silent Master. A lone, ancient yeti carrying a long dark staff. Will trail the party at a distance for some time, and stand his ground if approached. He cannot speak, but will point at the most dangerous looking person in the party with his staff: an unmistakeable martial challenge. He has HD4, the Heavenly Club, and is unarmoured (but has AC14 from extraordinary combat reflexes, toughness, and pain tolerance). He attacks twice per turn with the Heavenly Club, which deals d12 nonlethal damage. If he knocks out his target, he will point to the next scariest looking party member, and the process will repeat. If he knocks out the whole party, you will wake an hour later with all of your rations, drugs, and alcohol stolen. If you ever attack the Silent Master as a group he will bare his fangs in annoyance and start fighting to kill. If you kill him he can still appear on this table, apparently resurrected in perfect health. If he reappears this way he will scold you by wagging his finger. You can get him to leave you alone by sharing food or alcohol with him, or by ignoring him for half an hour or so, after which he will wander off, bored. 
5. A Gorebear, apex predator of the northern mountains. A subtly elongated/weasel-like black bear, with glossy black eyeballs and gums (they are swollen with blood). HD8, 2x Black Claws (d10 slashing), armour as leather. Gorebears have a unique circulatory system, with four hearts and extremely high blood pressure. Each successful attack on a Gorebear covers the attacker in Gore, which deals d6 fear damage, and gives them a -1 to hit on all further attacks (stacks up to -3). Gorebears scream when they kill something, dealing d10 fear damage to those who can hear them. The body of a Gorebear contains truly unbelievable quantities of blood, and it is horrible stuff: thick, foul smelling, and nearly impossible to wash off.
6. One of the Salt-Interred, sprinting towards you in total silence. If one of your party can see through illusions, you will instead see it standing in the distance, completely still, and hear the sound of rushing air high above you.