Down in the Chthonic Deeps: Nonsense

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Sekiro: The Fantastical Mundane

I've been playing Sekiro, its pretty neat.

Its amazing, it might be my GOAT, maybe, but what it also is, is very niche. I can't tell you to go buy it even though you should. It really isn't for everyone, as many Dark Souls fans are discovering, which is a shame.

This little quirk of gaming reminds me somewhat of the kind of, OSR/Pathfinder split in RPGs, but I'll get to that later.

Here are some bits I like about it:

1. How Mundane it is.

My favourite part of Sekiro is how boring a lot of it is.

Woah
Woah
Hang on

Listen. I mean boring, relative to other media.

There is no Thanos who can obliterate half the universe with a snap of his finger. There is no weapon that has crazy weird magic powers (that you can use at least). There are no weird alien people running around everywhere. Its strangely grounded and normal for a Fantasy game.

And oh boy, is the fantasy of Sekiro fucking cool.

*Disclaimer; I'll try and keep spoilers to a minimum, but I find that sometimes, a minimum of spoilage can be beneficial. YMMV*

Setting:
The game is set in the real world at the end of the Sengoku era in Japan. Specifically, the game takes place in the mountainous lands of the Ashina clan, a fictional place, yet set in the real world.

You can fight such thrilling enemies as:

- Humans with swords
- Humans with spears
- Humans with BIG swords
- BIG Humans with swords
- little Humans with knives
- Dogs
- Chickens
- Lizards
- A Snake

Now, if you have played the game, or any of Fromsoft's games, you know its better than that. And I sell it really short of course.

The vast majority of enemies in Sekiro are humans, who can fall into a few categories:

- Normal people (though some of them can be like, 7 feet tall and thats cool)
- Really small people who are kind of weirdly shaped and deformed, but they seem to just kind of be treated like normal people really? Much like
- Really big people, imagine sumo wrestlers turned up to 11
- People who crawl on their hands and feet, with weird fuckin' hooks coming out of all kinds of places hooks shouldn't be
- Mummified monks who are somehow still alive (and oh god is it horrible fuck me dude)
- Weird bandage people who have inhuman heritage

And like, compare this to your more mainstream fantasy millieu, where you have like, explicitly non-humans of all shapes, sizes, outsider-derived sub-species, and all that running around like its normal.

You can have a party of a Cat-Lady, a big turtle-man, a demon-child and a elf run around Barovia in a pretence of Gothic-Horror. (this shit drives me bonkers)

This is fine of course. Sekiro's much more "contained" (for lack of a better word) speciation of humans is also cool. It feels to me somehow grounded, and yet also fantastical compared to regular DnD diversity. This is nothing new, but I think it is executed really well here. By having a relatively un-fantastical world, it makes the pockets of the truly weird stand out. After having fought humans, big humans, and little humans and having got used to them, when the crawling hook-people show up, its a surprise.

(Which I think is also one of Fromsoft's biggest strengths; not quite uniquely so, but the sense of wonder at each new discovery leaves me feeling constantly delighted and always in anticipation of what comes next)

This is pulled off consistently; a few more of the relatively-mundane things in this game;

- A valley guarded by a gargantuan albino snake
- A lake haunted by a huge carp with a man's face
- The most powerful weapon in the game's only real power is that it can kill immortal beings
- Magic is mostly restricted to things and places
- The first (sort of) boss in the game is a giant man (moreso that the other big men people)

And yet somehow it is amazing and fantastical. It nails the sense of cohesion that bog-standard (and I mean toilet standard haha yeah) DnD completely lacks.

The world design mirrors this again; be entranced by this list of areas:

- A mountain place
- A boggy valley
- A foggy forest
- A castle
- A dungeon

And yet it works, for me at least. There is the fantastic here, it is just buried, hidden behind the veneer. You need to seek it out, struggle for it, and this enhances it for me.

This is my main point I guess. Its a bit of a ramble, but for me it just further justifies my decisions to have human-only ren-fair (which I find is used needlessly derogatively, but that's a discussion for another time) fantasy. By surrounding you with the ordinary, the fantastic rubs off on it, if you do it right.

2. The Prosthetic Tools
Well, I am super in love with the idea of them, and their execution in Sekiro is really super good, but it has a few niggles for me.
Their upgrades are pretty neat, they all have a primary use which has other secondary effects which are really effective if used in specific situations, and they are all very unique and grounded in the way I say above. They aren't realistic at all (they are powered by the souls of the dissatisfied dead for one) but they have at least a veneer of plausibility.
I suppose I can include the grapple hook here, what it does for the handling of the game is absolutely incredible, even if locking on to the grapple points can be a hassle sometimes.

Some semi-counter points that are worth considering when designing similar systems:
- Its weird that you get three slots for tools, but can switch them out at any time by pausing. I feel like you should really only have been able to swap them out at Buddhas so that you are sort of rewarded for having the right tools equipped, or rewarded for good planning rather.
- Some of them do over-lap a little in their uses (though to the game's credit, their secondary effects and aesthetics do keep them all feeling distinctive) and the Shuriken are a bit too universally useful. I'm not sure how you could fix it specifically in Sekiro's case, but its worth thinking about in your game if you want to encourage switching tools out every now and again. (Similar thought could/should be turned to spell lists I expect)

3. The Sword Clashing
No other game that I have seen/played nails the feel of sword-duels as well, ever, period. For my tastes at least. If you really break it down, it gets a bit passive in that enemies can be so aggressive and can counter-attack so quickly that your aggression is much, much more tempered than theirs, so you are forced on the defensive a bit more, but its great that the system encourages you to stay on top of your foes so much more than Dark Souls/Bloodborne ever really did (as close as Bloodborne came to that).

4. The Boss Fights
Oh all right, this is basically point 1 again. But still, I find its the perfect balance for me between inventively designed mundane foes to make them feel fantastical, while tempering the truly fantastical foes with a bit of believability. Nails it in every case for me.

5. The Sugar Items
You do a rad little pose before buffing yourself. Mega-Cool.

6. The Beautiful, fucking capital-B Beautiful design of the World.
Fromsoft are fucking masters of the Landscape-Reveal, as evidenced by your Arrival in Anor Londo in Dark Souls and walking through the clockface in The Old Hunters DLC for Bloodborne.
Sekiro is no slacker on this front.
I will fight to the death anyone who disagrees.

7. Sets of Mini Bosses
My boy Epicnamebro says that reuse of enemies is the games main weakness. I see what he means, but I don't feel quite the same way. I like seeing a mini boss of a set, in that pokemon collect-em-all type of way. Its a little thing, but when I see a boss called Six Bongo-Players United I say, damn, where are the other 5? It also sets that kinda collectable thing into the world-logic itself, its diagetic meta-gaming!

The Medium Bits
1. The Stealth
Its pretty good actually for a game that is so action-focused. You can definitely play the game completely steathily (except for boss fights) but it does push back a bit by how action-oriented it really wants to be.
The best way to play the game is to sneak in, set yourself up (maybe by picking off a few choice targets) and then battling and scrapping with the remaining foes. You can go full stealth, or full violence, but its harder. Its neat overall, but the limitations of the stealth system can be a little frustrating now and again.

2. The English Voices
Its not that I am a weeb (I am a little though), but the english voices are just so... american. And a bit crap. Wolf himself is so bland and slightly gruff like every other fucking man-character (which is also the reason I can't bring myself to play as Corvo in dishonored 2 now that he has a voice). Its a big pet-peeve I'll admit for myself, but I find it just so disconcerting hearing Emma talk so american-like in feudal japan-land.
Plus other people on reddit say that they think on the whole that the english voice acting is weaker in this game too, so I feel a bit vindicated in my views.
Like I say though, this one is pretty idiosyncratic.

3. The Mini Boss Sets
Look, they don't quite push it as much as I would like. Small beans really, but its there.

Now, some another point:

SEVERE INTELLECTUAL WANKERY AHEAD

OSR/Pathfinder
One of the most fascinating things I've noticed in response to this game, (and is again further shown by the differences in Fromsoft games and Nioh) is the strangely partisan reception of it. Let me explain:

There are a whole series of games made by, and in response to, Fromsoft. Here are the key ones I'll talk about:

- The Dark Souls Series (decent "customisation options", open-world-ish, moderately fantastical)
- Bloodborne (less good "customisation options, open-world-ish, quite fantastical)
- Nioh (maximal "customisation options", level-based, more fantastical)
- Sekiro (minimal "customisation options", open-world-ish, somewhat fantastical)

[And a brief aside, here I define "customisation options" as meaning; ways to affect how your character looks, ways to affect how your character fights, ways to affect how your character plays]

The main "conflicts" so to speaks have been about replayability, and the "goodness" of the games. Its a bizarre world we live in.

The main "criticisms" I've seen that intrigue me are in thread where people say (in game specific subreddits) "I wanna play a Japan game, should I get Sekiro or Nioh?" and then people say Nioh because its replayable, and has better customisation. This baffles me to no end. Like, it doesn't really, I get that it's a preference thing, but when people present the argument as" Nioh has better customisation and more builds so you can repay it more, ergo it is better", it annoys me, because what they really mean is "I like that I can play this game with lots of different builds, therefore you might like it for that reason too". A small fee, but quite important I feel. A similar comparison is given for souls v sekiro, souls has more builds, therefore you can repay it more.

This I feel, has its roots in the same difference between OSR rpgs, and Pathfinder-esque rpgs (i.e. Buildless vs buildful rpgs). In Sekiro, you have one weapon, one armour set, a modicum of special skill trees, and a small variety of ninja tools. In Nioh you have several weapon types with a variety of weapons in each category, a dazzling array of skills.

But,

And its a big but,

This has no bearing on relative replayabilty or enjoyment. This is not a new idea I guess, but it is very clearly expressed here. (and as an aside, this is not a big deal, and Sekiro is ultimately a very niche game I think, I'm just indulging myself)

Nioh is replayable because you can go for a new build each time, and experiment with different weapons to achieve the ultimate version of your avatar.

Sekiro is replayable because you can go for a new approach with each encounter, and experiment with different tools and fights to achieve the ultimate version of yourself.

A subtle distinction, but a big one.

I've seen it said that Nioh is a game for everyone, and Sekiro is a game for speed runners, as if mastering something is less fun than trying lots of new things. They are no more or less fun than each other, one of them says to you "what kind of fun do you want" the other says "here is some fun, give it a go".

This I feel is very similar to OSR v pathfinder, like I said ages ago. In Sekiro and OSR you have a limited number of tools and you need to figure out how to use them to solve your issues. In Dark Souls and Pathfinder, you have every tool you could ever want, and you get to choose which one sounds the coolest at the time. These are neither one better or worse than the other. You can even mix and match if you like. Perhaps one is more accessible, and the other more niche, but both have their time and their place. If you're reading this, I'm sure you don't need me to say this, but I did.

Some Bits and Bobs from Heat Signature

So I've been playing and reading a bit about Heat Signature; its super neat.

Here's some things I like about it.

1. The Random Generation

The space boats are cool, and I think Tom's got some (unintentional) interesting things to say about dungeon-design as such in his blog posts about the development of the ship's generation. Here's a link: https://www.pentadact.com/tag/procedural-generation/

2. The Gadgets

Easily my second favourite part of the game. Here are the three types of teleporter it uses:

Side-winder: You just teleport there, but there must be a clear line to get there (no closed doors for example)

Switcher: You switch places with someone, otherwise, no limits.

Visitor: You just go somewhere, no limits; BUT you go back to where you were when you activated it after two seconds (which in Heat Signature can be a long damn time.

Each has its own uses (though the Side-Winder unfortunately just seems to me to be the most usually useful) and I have great anecdotes about all of them, though they suffer similarly from the DnD anecdote problem where they are far more exciting in the actual playing than in the re-telling. They do roughly involve:

- Having literally 13 seconds to capture my target on the other side of the ship before they teleport off forever. Cue mad teleport dashing with a side-winder and shooting key-card-carrying-guards to get there in the nick of time.

- Having accidentally jettisoned the only guard carrying the key to my objective into space, so using the visitor I picked up to slip inside just long enough to pick it up.

- Killing about a dozen guards who all teleported in on me by switching around them and unloading a couple of shots over and over so they could never quite get a bead on me in a glorious explosion of violence.

And that's leaving out my exploits including:

- Getting a jammer accidentally shot when he opened a door with a sentry gun behind him, which saw me, and fired, killing the Jammer.

- Grabbing my rescue target and deciding to take the window out into space to get picked up by my remote pod (a much better idea in this game than in real life presumably. The next few steps all happen in the same split second, in this order.

1. I fire my gun.

2. A half dozen guards hear the gun shot and teleport right next to me.

3. The bullet breaks the window.

4. All of us are jettisoned into space.

5. The Pod picks up my character and the rescue target before we asphyxiate.

6. We do not pick up the other guards.

Similarly, watching a predator (the most dangerous contractor you can run into) step on a glitch trap, and get teleported off into space never gets old.

Oh, maybe I should say,

3. The Endlessly Entertaining Anecdotes.

4. The Death System

Its good.

If you get knocked out, you're fine and will wake up soon. Unless they throw you into space, in which case you have an 02 bar while you float about in space, during which you can control your pod to pick you up. You only die if it runs out, and its quite generous.

Getting shot (or stabbed) is similar. You fall unconscious, and have 30 seconds before you bleed out. I'm not 100% sure how it works after this, but roughly speaking there are check-points in the bleed-out process which, once you pass, limit the maximum amount of time you can bleed out in the future. If you're quick, you won't bleed out much, and you'll still have plenty of time next time. If you faff about, you'll really struggle later.

I feel like there's some kind of system in there for DnD which is similar to 5e's, but better.

Briefly, back to the game, you can also sometimes end a character's run by being captured by one of the factions, which brings in a delightful element of the game. One of the available replacement characters will be spawned with a personal mission to rescue the character who was captured.

5. It has my favourite Style of Stealth.

This could possibly be a blog post on its own, but in short, there are a few ways missions go down.

1 - You figure out you don't have the kit to actually do the mission, and bug out. (Thankfully rare, and there are also no penalties for aborting missions, which is good.)

2 - The mission goes perfectly, and you execute the mission with slickness and precision. Very satisfying.

3 - You beat your head against the wall over and over, getting repeatedly thrown out the air-lock until eventually, you make it through. Aggravating if it happens too often, but still good.

4 - The Perfect Storm; These are the missions that are really just outside your capabilities as a player and/or character, but not quite, and they are the best. You infiltrate initially, maintaining stealth or concealable violence as long as you can, the tension mounting as you delve deeper into the ship until the barrier bursts, and all hell breaks loose. Guards are running and teleporting in all over the place, you're throwing out gadget charges left and right, using up that subvertor you swore you'd keep for the personal mission, teleporting that visitor you found ages ago in the first crate to you to deal with the guard, shooting your assassination target in the face, and then shooting out a window to throw yourself into space to escape, and then you release the pent up tension in your lungs.

I have a few gripes with the game, like how Guard Armour is an impassable barrier until it isn't, but shields are impassable until you begin to be able to sort of deal with them, but you never then progress to a point like with armour where they aren't a deal at all.

Most of my other issues are that there isn't more of it really.

If it looks like fun in the trailer, there's a tonne more than I've talked about like character traits, the rad progression system, and the neat music and visuals. Check it out.

[GLOG] Knight of Cydonia

Is this a class based on the music video of one of Muse's all-time best songs?

No.

You gain one random Martial Cowboy Hero Technique per Knight of Cydonia Template you have.
Starting Equipment: A Damn Fine Hat, A Whip, Leather Armour, A Sword, A Bottle of Questionable Liquor, A Sense of Deep Ennui.
Background(d3): 1 - Outlaw, 2 - Vigilante, 3 - Ex-Sheriff

A - Early Riser, Piercing Gaze of the Cosmic Meta-Hawk
B - A Righteous Cause, Secrets of the Immortal Emperor of the Desert
C - Mysteries of the Mystic Mariachi Man,
D - Hour of the White Rider

Martial Cowboy Hero Technique (d8)

1 - Snake Style
You have +2 to hit enemies with a lower speed than you.
2 - Tiger Style
You deal +d6 damage when you attack someone while leaping off elevated terrain as part of your attack.
3 - Flying Eagle Style
You have +2 to hit flying enemies.
4 - Flaming Energy Ball
By doing nothing on your turn, you can launch a ball of flaming energy as your action next turn, which deals 2d6 damage.
5 - Twin Headed Snake
You can attack two creatures who are adjacent to each other with one attack roll, but rolling damage separately. You step each damage die down one step when doing this.
6 - Circle of Death
Creatures you grapple take d4 damage at the start of each of their turns.
7 - Shaolin Bear Strike
Your unarmed attacks deal d4+STR damage.
8- Choose One Style of your choice.

Early Riser

You have a chance in 6 of ignoring any effects of surprise equal to the number of Knight of Cydonia templates you have.

Piercing Glare of the Cosmic Meta-Hawk

While you hold someone's gaze, you always know if they are being untruthful, though you do not know anything about the nature of the deception, only its presence.

A Righteous Cause

When you come across a Villain that opposes one of your convictions, you can declare a Righteous Cause against them. Each time you confront them, you automatically charge your conviction at the beginning and the end of the confrontation. You can only have one Righteous Cause for each conviction, which ends when the Villain is defeated.

Secrets of the Immortal Emperor of the Desert

You get +2 to (both) Combat Maneuver rolls. Additionally, whenever you attack and get exactly the number you needed, you may make a Dex check opposed by the target's Str or Dex (whichever is higher). If you win, you successfully execute a free Combat Maneuver.

Mysteries of the Mystic Mariachi Man

Your sense of timing is impeccable. If you are ever "off-screen" and someone you know is put in a dangerous situation, you can burst back "into scene" in a dramatic fashion, along with one new piece of equipment that you have used to enter the scene, such as a horse, a rope, or a motorcycle (whatever one of those is). This ability is limited by plausibility.

Hour of the White Rider

You gain a bonus on to hit and damage rolls against the Villain of your Righteous Cause and their lackeys equal to the number of times they have escaped your justice!

6 themes of the Old Frontier

Bogeyman's Cave and Throne of Salt (among others) did this thing already, so go read those ones. Once you're done with those, with no further ado, here's my setting flavour waffle!

Brief Introduction: The Old Frontier

The Dread Emperor rules, has ruled, will always rule from the Mightiest of Cities, Babylon, seat of the Throne, and from his Basalt Throne he stretched his hand across all the Empire and beneath his benevolent gaze, mankind flourishes.
In theory at least.
In reality, the Duchy of Brockenwold is far, far from the vital beating heart of civilisation. The frontier has stood here for centuries, ebbing and surging back and forth, cities and towns blooming and wilting in turn, no-one even knows anymore if the ruined cities in the mountains are the corpses of Imperial cities or the ailing remnants of even older ages. This is just as far as humanity can go, there is nothing worth having beyond the Brockenmoors or the Saurmachts. Some things are certain though.
Something isn't right about the Duchy.
There are (utterly spurious of course) claims that monsters roam the moors, and beasts and creatures of legend, things that cannot and should not be, roam the Eldenwode, and there are even whispers of Gods.
Someone needs to sort these out, and put the old tales to rest.

1 - Mankind is Old, we have left many ruins

Many are the ruins of ancient times.

The empire of all humanity is ancient beyond reckoning, and its borders have shifted and ebbed like tides over the many millennia. In the quiet and forgotten corners are the dead remnants of old cities and castles and towns, obviously ancient, but only the most learned will be able to discern if they were the homes of civilisations of previous ages, or merely imperial cities that were lost in the latest spate of disasters.

2 - The Gods are Dead, but we are not alone

All man has left are Saints and Angels.

It is well known that the Gods are Dead; none dispute this. Without them, demons and devils and monsters and wicked men prey on the souls of man with ever growing audacity, but there is hope. Some few of the peoples of man are worthy to walk the Path of Saints and inherit the leftover scraps of their Divinity and ascend with power to the heavenly battlefields. So to do the God's attendant angels, now masterless, mass in heavenly hosts to battle against the dying of the light. These are the beings that men worship, to defend their living souls from being stolen in the night.

3 - The World is Alive, and yet Dying

The spirits of the world take many shapes and forms.

All things have their spirits, they are all alive; not quite in the manner that you or I are, but alive they are, and they all have their own minds and goals and agency. The druids and shamans and rangers of the world know the old ways of man, and can yet speak to them, and interact with the souls of mountains, and preposition the hive-mind of the forest.

And yet, the Sun wanes in the centre of the universe; the earth will not survive its death, and so it plans, and hopes.

4 - The System is Broken, and The Man is not your friend

Well, maybe not exactly like this, but maybe more of your nobles should be Skellingtons?

His Dread Majesty dwells far, far away in Holy Babylon, and his agents are scattered and few.
The Duke of the Frontier is corrupt and fat on the harsh, harsh taxes he extracts from the people.
The Baron of Brygge is a heretic, a demon-worshiper, and dreams of rebellion.
People in power are very rarely on your side, and will usually at best be out to use you for your abilities if they do seem to be aligned with you. There may well be a few that genuinely are good, but they are few and far between. Hold them close.

5 - Magic is Everywhere you can't see it

The Cunning Folk know all kinds of secret, simple magics.

Magic isn't common, but there are always wizards who dwell in high towers just over the next hill, shrines to ancient spirits with pools of healing water, and you can never tell when your neighbour might be one of the Cunning Folk, and have a talisman to heal the sickness that has settled in your gut.

Most people will never see magic, but then again most people will never visit more places than they have fingers, and few will go to the lost and wild places where magic still waxes strongly. Most people don't even believe in monsters for heaven's sake.

6 - In the end, there is still hope for the future

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

The world is bleak, but there is still hope.

The sun is not yet dead, there are still Saints to defend the souls of man, there are still heroes.

Perhaps you'll even be remembered as one.

A Legendarium, a Cosmology

Few mythologies beyond the Abrahamic religions (as far as I really know) have stories about the creation of the world ex nihil, from nothing. This is fine and good, as it allows me to begin the hidden history of my world thusly:

Once there was nothing, then the gods made a pocket of something, and called it the Universe, the one-song.

This was the First Age, the Age of Beginnings, and the first life of the Sun.

First, the gods bled, and from the burning hot fluids they birthed the sun, great furnace of creation, linchpin of reality. Without it, there could be no being, so the gods guarded it jealously.
Secondly, the firmament was forged to keep out unbeing from the Universe, and the burning stars of angels were set in it to guard what is, from what is not. Thus the precious Sun was safeguarded from the cold and hungry nothing of the void beyond.
Then, there was wild experimentation with what was possible, discovery of the limits of being, the first little splinters forming in the fabric of reality, and their careful study and exploitation. Great chunks of rock were pieced together, and set in the firmament, worlds and planes on which to create anything the Gods desired.
Finally, the Gods became aware of the undeniable power of the void beyond what they had made; Entropy. They saw it in the dying heat and light of the sun they had given of themselves to birth.
They tried eveything. They created beings on the worlds they had made to offer blood and souls to the sun to keep it burning.
It worked, for a time; but the wheels of entropy turn forever, and only crash round faster and faster.
Eventually, nothing the Gods could do was enough, and they knew it.
They held much conclave, and talked long and deep of what they would do.
They reached consensus. They gathered all blood and soul and worship as they could from their worlds, grew fat and strong on it, and cut their throats upon the furnace of the sun as it it died, and glutted their life upon the embers of the Sun.

Thus died the first Sun, and so was born the Second.
This was the Second Age, the Age of Birds, and the second life of the Sun.
The Gods awoke again, but to the confusion of the Reborn Sun, they were not who they were before.
The new Gods, for their part, knew a few things; for life and light to continue, they would need to grow fat and strong on the blood and worship of the living things that again now crawled forth from the rocks that hung improbably in space. They knew the angels that burned a great light on the firmament protected them during their duty. And finally, they knew that when the Sun guttered and died, they would need to feed the solar-embers their life-blood to relight it, and allow existence to continue to be.
All was well, and all was well, and the many folks of the birds opened the skies, as was provisioned for.
One day however, a wicked being calling itself Jaguar, who dwelt behind the mirrors, seduced one of the folk of the city of Xanadu, and a great breach was opened, which was forbidden. To seal it, the sun gave of its flame to weld the mirrors shut again, imprisoning Jaguar.
Thus, before its proper time, the Sun died, and the Gods killed themselves upon it to light the flame again.

Thus died the second Sun, and so was born the Third.
This was the Third Age, the Age of the River, and the third life of the Sun.
Again, the song began as before in the Second Age.
All was well, and all was well, and it was an age of spiritual enlightment and transcendence, lead at the city of Shambalha of the River-Font.
This time, the song ran its full course, and at the Ordained time, the Sun withered and died, and so the Gods again gave of themselves to relight the flame again.

Thus died the third Sun, and so was born the Fourth.
This was the Fourth Age, the Age of the Many, and the fourth life of the Sun.
All was well, and all was well, and it was an age in which were born a great multitude of creatures and peoples, the remnants of which still wander the earth to this day. This was the first Age in which Saints were born of the flecked remnants of gods of older ages.
One day however, the second through fifth of the Saints; The Minotaur, The Monkey King, The Ibis Sage, and the Lion Grandmaster, fought at the city of Daikuzu, and the crash of their battle wounded the world, and even the sun itself. It was after this day that the worlds began to drift apart, such that now to transverse the worlds is difficult and hazardous.
In their pride, the Four Divine Beasts were destroyed by the gods, though their names and titles survived them.
Thus, before its proper time, the Sun died, and the Gods killed themselves upon it to light the flame again.

Thus died the fourth Sun, and so was born the Fifth.
This was the Fifth Age, the Age of Horses, and the fifth life of the Sun.
All was well, and all was well, and it was an age of great exploration and rediscovery, for the ravages of the war of the first saints in the previous age had caused the world to crumple and reknit itself, as it would at the end of each further age. This was the first age in which mankind would arise ascendent, and conquer all the world. Their lords were the Great Khans, and they ruled from mighty Karakorum.
With the world united under one banner, the gods prospered, but when the empire fractured, and the world fell into chaos, the Gods panicked. In the cataclysms that followed, much was lost, and the Sun nearly died and withered beyond repair.
Thus, past the appointed hour, the Sun died, and the Gods killed themselves upon it to light the flame again, though it sputtered and sparked with fear for its light.

Thus died the fifth Sun, and so was born the Sixth.
This was the Sixth Age, the Age of Sands, and the sixth life of the Sun.
All was not well, for this sun was born hot and red, a result of the Chaotic end of the previous age. It was a harsh age, where rather than light and life, death was worshipped, and the mighty Monuments of Keshmet housed dead far outnumbering the living.
Thus it was, as the world was close to withering away entirely, the Sun called forth the newest generation of gods, and called upon them to slay it and begin again, before the damage was irreversible.
Thus, before the appointed hour, the Sun was slain, and the Gods killed themselves upon it to light the flame again.

Thus died the sixth sun, and so was born the Seventh.
This was the Seventh Age, the Age of Saints, and the seventh life of the Sun.
All was well, and all was well, and again mankind united all the world in one empire, whose great capital was Byzantium of the Pantheon, for many Saints were born in this age. This was an age of the great march of progress married with purpose, and the Gods rejoiced.
A wicked seed was planted however, whose bitter fruit would be tasted only when it was too late.
Thus, at the appointed hour, the Sun died, and the Gods killed themselves upon it to light the flame again.
But.
It was at this late hour that the Traitor-Saint, who by the will of the Sun would have their teeth crushed and their name blotted from all the world, betrayed their fellows in a misguided attempt at justice, and slaughtered them in the now desecrated pantheon. Glutted on stolen divinity, the Traitor-Saint approached the dying and bleeding gods, whose pooling blood dripped onto the coals of the sun. With his wicked blade, he tore at the still and bleeding forms of the gods, and wounded them utterly, to a final death. As the dying sun screamed in rage and fear, the Traitor-Saint realised what he had wrought, and fled from all knowledge.

Thus died the seventh sun, and so was born the Eighth.
This was the Eighth Age, the Age of Godless Chaos, and the Eighth life of the Sun.
All is not well. The Gods are dead, they were not renewed with the rebirth of the sun. Their bodies lie broken and scattered.
The angels, unfed with blood, are waning at their posts, and among their number are seen traitors, who have taken the title of Devils and stolen a world called Hell for their own, devious devices. Further, the ever empty void has crept into the eyes of some angels, and driven them mad. The first Demons.
Without the guidance of gods, man has again united the world under a single empire (nearly), ruled by his Dread Majesty from the Holy City of Babylon. They are without protection from those wicked things which, without the powers of Gods to hold them in check, become only more and more bold and numerous as the reluctance of man to accept them rises to meet it. Thus, man has turned to lesser powers to guide them.
The Church of the Heavenly Host, inspired in the hearts of man by the desperate Angels, offers them worship and blood, as the Angels believe themselves the most worthy and needful of it, sentinels of the Firmament as they are. They are deluded and wrong. Without Gods; they will one day fail and let the void flooding into the universe; or the Sun will die one final time, and they will fail regardless.
The Church of the Saints, which is man's creation alone, rallies the spiritual defence of man behind the Saints born of the floating shreds of Divinity left behind by ancient and dead gods. None in the Empire of All Humanity recognise the existence of gods. They just, know somehow, that the gods are either dead, long since left, or maybe never even existed at all.
There remains one psuedo-god. At the dawn of the Age, the new pantheon was born, but the old gods were dead and cold, and so they could not come into their glory. One among them had the strength and will to live, and so it devoured all it could. It ate its brother and sister gods, but that was not enough. It ate itself, but that was not enough. It ate everything, until not even its name remained, and finally it was satisfied; and now it is the Red God, the Cannibal-God-who-is-no-God.
The sun knows little of its past lives, but it knows this, there are no gods to save it this time, and the appointed hour of its death is coming. It knows it is that it is hungry, and it is panicking. For these reasons, it reached out to many worlds, a Bright and Burning Deity, to demand blood, and souls. Thus it fuels itself, and delays the end.
But the march of Entropy is irresistible. In the end, the Sun cannot escape its fate. Blood satisfies, but not forever. Souls satisfy more, but they are consumed utterly, and so the cycle becomes vicious, the more souls it consumes, the less blood will be produced. It was enough to start, but now it isn't. In the end, nothing will be.
The world fears for the plight of the sun, and so it reaches out to man, and those it touches who accept its words become the druids. The oldest and most feral, who understand the most of the Earth's designs, seek the corpses of the Gods, and seek offerings (willingly given or not) to revive them, and hope that their desperate strength will be enough when the Appointed Hour comes.

And so it is, in this Choatic and Godless Age; where the dregs of ancient, better ages succumb to desperation and apathy; where the order of the world decays under its own bloated weight; where the earth betrays itself out of desperate hope that another, better age might be born of the ashes of this one; so it is that the PC's become adventurers.

Honest Martyn's Travelling Carnival

The Attractions of the Carnival

Honest Martyn is not Honest. This is his Carnival. He will do everything he can to squeeze every coin from you he can, with that 'Honest' smile and twinkle of the teeth.

1 - The Bigtop

There are to be 6 Performances in each production, each performed in the order they were rolled. Roll a d6 for each such performance, a roll of 1 indicates something has gone disastrously wrong. If a second performance goes wrong in a production, it ends early.

Martyn's Performances
1 - Monster Taming - 1 in 6 chance of the death of the tamer
2 - Acrobatics - 1 in 6 chance of a terrible fall
3 - Magic Tricks - 1 in 6 chance of the aide drowning in the tank
4 - Menagerie Parade - 1 in 6 chance of one of the 'exhibits' going rampaging
5 - Bariambo the Clown - 1 in 6 chance of those knives actually being quite real
6 - The Mime - 1 in 6 chance of an audience member permanently disappearing
7 - Dare-devil Stunts - 1 in 6 chance of a terrible crash with the audience
8 - A Burlesque Performance - 1 in 6 chance of the stage completely collapsing
9 - A Strongman Performance - 1 in 6 chance of BARBARIAN RAGE
10 - The Fortune Teller - 1 in 6 chance of uncomfortable predictions
11 - A Theater Troupe - 1 in 6 chance of a lack of acting in the murders
12 - Brilliant Musicians - 1 in 6 chance of ear-shredding cacophony
13 - Ballet Performance - 1 in 6 chance of the lift turning into a throw
14 - Fire-Eaters - 1 in 6 chance of catastrophic conflagration
15 - Contortionists - 1 in 6 chance of permanent contortion
16 - Blade Jugglers - 1 in 6 chance of limb removal
17 - Oh, you know, those emo dick-heads - 5 in 6 chance of everyone feeling really depressed
18 - Bull Fighting - 1 in 6 chance of goring and trampling
19 - The Cannon - 1 in 6 chance of audience demolishment
20 - Abstract Art Performance - 1 in 6 chance of everyone's minds being turned inside-out

2 - The Food Stalls

3 - The Travelling Menagerie

There are 6 exhibits on show at any one time. Each has an Unfortunate Origin that can be discovered through knowledge, guile, or investigation. Each also has an Unfortunate Condition that makes the creature's life just that little more miserable.

Menagerie Generator
1 - A Mermaid
2 - A Chimera
3 - A Brain-Child
4 - A Double-Horse
5 - A Flock Ironbats
6 - The MultiBear
7 - A Clutch of Snake-Worms
8 - A Bull-Man
9 - Flock of Harpies
10 - A Pair of Tritons
11 - A Fungodile
12 - The Living Stone
13 - A Hypnotic Spider
14 - The Fish-Within-The-Shark
15 - The Jelly Knight
16 - A Frozen Maiden
17 - The Many-Faced Man
18 - A Scraggle of Roach-Boys
19 - A Cacohodon
20 - An Aborted Godling

Unfortunate Origins
1 - They have been Sewn together from parts and pieces
2 - They have been built through Necromantic Techniques
3 - They are the result of Illusions and Trickery
4 - They are thus through the manipulation of Paints and Mirrors
5 - They are an Ingeniously Designed Automaton
6 - They are Actually the Real Deal

Unfortunate Conditions
1 - They sit in a puddle of filth
2 - Their skin is loose and folded
3 - Their eyes weep a black oil
4 - They are missing probably key body parts
5 - They are bound in chains
6 - Their veins bulge and ripple
7 - Their keeper is cruel and moody
8 - Their food is meager and pathetic
9 - The cage is cramped and claustrophobic
10 - They are lethargic and painfully thin
11 - They are just infested with parasites
12 - They are glassy-eyed, and barely conscious
13 - They are dead, suspended now in preservatives
14 - They have been roped into a fight-pit
15 - They are missing most of their teeth
16 - Small children prod them with sticks
17 - There is little water available for them
18 - The ceiling is just too low
19 - Their enclosure is bare and barren
20 - They are literally dead and rotting

4 - The Side Show Games

5 - Bariambo the Clown

Bariambo is a shit clown. He is however, scarily strong, and the enforcer of the Carnival's security policies. His Clown Wagon contains a near infinite amount of "Guard Apes" to deal with trouble-makers.

Bariambo's Most Recent Trickery
1 - He attempts a card trick, several times, eventual they end up on the floor in frustration
2 - He attempts slapstick, but actually hurts himself, and swears profusely before storming off
3 - He attempts to unicycle, falls, tries again, falls, yells in rage, and breaks it on his knee
4 - He attempts to juggle, but keeps hitting himself, he throws them into the audience
5 - He attempts to make children laugh, but they all cry at his horrifying visage
6 - He attempts to make a joke, but botches it over and over, his audience disperse
7 - He attempts get into his clown cart, but can't quite fit before breaking the roof
8 - He attempts to walk a tight-rope, getting some way before the rope snaps beneath him
9 - He attempts to ride an ostrich, but crushes the animal beneath his weight, he kicks it
10 - He attempts to knife throw around a volunteer, but hits them and stomps off in frustration
11 - He attempts to play the accordion, but accidentally pulls it in half after a terrible performance
12 - He attempts a ventriloquism bit, but the mannequin starts swearing to his annoyance
13 - He attempts to touch up his make-up, and messes it up massively, getting a load in his eye
14 - He attempts to create balloon animals, but they all burst in his face and he stomps on them
15 - He attempts to tell a story, but keeps getting events mixed up, children correct him
16 - He attempts to throw a custard pie, but misses, and angrily storms off, but slips in the custard
17 - He attempts to balance a spinning plate, but it falls, and cuts a rope on a tent
18 - He attempts to breathe fire, but sets his chin on fire, he runs away screaming
19 - He attempts to remove a rowdy visitor from the carnival, beating them senseless
20 - He attempts to drown his sorrows in alcohol

6 - "The Mime"

"The Mime" is an illusionist of considerable skill and creativity. They (apart from being ambiguously gendered) spy on potential trouble-makers and other such "persons of interest" for Martyn, besides just doing quiet creepy things for their own enjoyment.
Roll a d12 while all is well. Roll d20 if something is amiss. Roll d8+12 if they are on to you.

The Mime's Shenanigans
1 - People hang motionless in the air, screaming silently
2 - He mimes fishing, pulling up rocks out of the earth
3 - He "walks downstairs" behind some crates, he is gone
4 - He "walks upstairs" into the sky, higher and higher
5 - He mimes chopping wood, boxes split apart improbably
6 - He mimes shooting a bow, birds drop from the sky
7 - He pantomime panics, waving and pointing, before onwatchers are bowled away
8 - He mimes climbing up onto ledges, he disappears when he pulls himself up
9 - He mimes conducting, ethereal music drifts across the carnival
10 - He mimes puppeteering, people dance jankily with horrified expressions
11 - He holds fruit, he mimes chopping, and it falls to pieces
12 - He mimes walking into a wall, people laugh, they can't pass either
13 - He simply stands, and stares
14 - He follows, feigning pantomime innocence
15 - He watches intently, as he stamps on ants
16 - He sticks out his foot, you trip though he is metres away
17 - He mimes a lasso, you choke, though only for a moment
18 - He mimes creeping, you hear nothing, not even your own breathing
19 - He is still, and cold, and pale, on the floor like a discarded doll
20 - He mimes drowning, he floats up into the air tumbling forever, your lungs fill with air, but it is water, you float up into the air tumbling forever, but there is no water, there is no water!

7 - The Hall of Mirrors

The Hall of Mirrors is a sinister place. No-one goes there, and for good reason. The visions are... unsettling.

Mirrors
1 - Hearts: You see yourself in the house of flesh, split open like a fruit.
2 - Knives: You see yourself claiming vengeance unexpectedly in the night.
3 - Dusts: You see yourself stranded out in the desert dry and dead.
4 - Vines: You see yourself strung up from a tree, fungus grows in your meats
5 - Stars: You see the infinities of the High Wilderness of Nights, you suffocate up there
6 - Snakes: You see yourself in a nest of coiled and entwined snakes, they bite over and over
7 - Bone: You see yourself in the Haunted House, something creeps up behind you
8 - Clocks: You see the passage of time, you cannot comprehend what you see
9 - Inks: You see the interior of a library, you are surrounded by books
10 - Swords: You see yourself in the midst of a great battle, drenched in blood
11 - Scales: You see a great pile of gold, it stirs, something awaits within
12 - Ice: You see your family, dead and cold in the snow, you gnaw on them, you had no choice
13 - Flames: You see your home burning to the ground, you watch with relief on your face
14 - Silks: You see yourself in the Fortune Teller's Tent, mist fills the air
15 - BLACK: You see only Blackness.
16 - Silver: You see yourself within a forest that is no forest, in a world that is no world
17 - Furs: You see yourself in the Menagerie Tent, your face twisted in disgust
18 - Stripes: You see yourself out in the Carnival, the Mime watches with hate on their face
19 - Skulls: You see yourself in the ground, dead and buried
20 - Voids: You see yourself, only your face is gone, and your body is empty and hollow

8 - The Fortune-Teller's Tent

The Fortune Teller is the genuine deal, though they don't trot out their actual magic for the plebs and punters. Usually. It would require a lot of coin and persuasiveness to convince them to perform a proper reading for you. They usually cast for Martyn, to determine where best to go next, or the best hiding place from their current predicament, and honestly they are the only reason the Carnival is still in business at all.

Fortunes
1 - Wealth
2 - Fame
3 - Skill
4 - Secrets
5 - Land
6 - Relics
7 - Faith
8 - Revenge
9 - Relief
10 - Rest
11 - Might
12 - Comfort
13 - Progress
14 - Charity
15 - Protection
16 - Love
17 - Power
18 - Magic
19 - Happiness
20 - Immortality

9 - The Haunted House

It seems normal. For everyone else it is. But for you, it will be a nightmare come alive. There will be no evidence of such once you are out. Death is an escape, but it would not be pleasant. The memories will never leave you.
Once you are within the Haunted House, the first 4 or so rooms are just filled with your usual spooky stuff. Then, you are trapped, though you won't realise at first. At this point, new rooms are rolled on the following table. Escape is possible once 13 rooms are explored. Duplicate rooms are spooky, but empty.

Rooms of the Haunted House
1 - This is the room that floods with Blood and Organs, it will follow you too
2 - This is the room with the Zombies beneath the bed, many many Zombies
3 - This is the room that is made of teeth, they gnaw on you if you remain long
4 - This is the room that the butcher prepares food, he will prepare you too
5 - This is the room that is filled with blades and saws, they will come to life soon
6 - This is the room where the floor collapses into an infinite pit of blackness
7 - This is the room where the spiders dwell, and they are spun many, many webs
8 - This is the room where the corpse in the cupboard is psychotic and unstoppable
9 - This is the room where the tide of limbs pulls itself out of the well infinitely
10 - This is the room where the floor is a mire and chains fly out of the walls to get you
11 - This is the room where there is only darkness, and a demon thing to hunt you
12 - This is the room that contains your greatest mistake and the punishment for it
13 - This is the room that never ends, walls out infinitely, and gently slopping down forever
14 - This is the room where the sky boils with thunder, and tentacles pluck you from the earth
15 - This is the room that is all aflame, and the dying grasp at you for mercy from the flames
16 - This is the room that has the hag who boils up soup made from your mummy
17 - This is the room where the bodies of all your friends have been mulched up
18 - This is the room where parasites crawl into your flesh through your eyes and ears
19 - This is the room where the doctor will fix you with knives and wrenches and saws
20 - This is the room where you die

10 - The House of FLESH

The House of FLESH is gaudily appointed, and seems to clearly be a brothel. It is anything but. It certainly doesn't appear to be really 20 floors tall. Each floor is more and more expensive than the last, and provides further and further pleasures. Floors 13 and up at least will leave permanent scares. Some might even provide benefits. The Highest Floors are totally transformative (in a Hellraiser kind of way).

The Levels of the House of FLESH
1 - Pleasant company and fine food
2 - Kisses and flattery
3 - Teasing and dancing
4 - Warmth and closeness
5 - Pleasure and caresses
6 - Sex and sweat
7 - Sex and slaps
8 - Sex and ropes
9 - Sex and paddles
10 - Sex and knives
11 - Sex and flames
12 - Sex and brutalising
13 - Sex and maiming
14 - Sex and death and resuscitation
15 - Sex and mental scarring
16 - Sex and reconstructive surgery
17 - Sex and reconstitution
18 - Sex and dissociation
19 - Sex and universal awareness
20 - Sex and No Returns

11 - The Joust

Basically the WWF of Jousting. Ridiculousness, fakeness, drama. Play it up. Roll twice to determine the two challengers for each match. If you roll doubles, they face... THEIR ANTI-CLONE!

The Contestants
1 - A Skeleton riding a Skeleton Horse. Calls himself; "Mr Bones"
2 - A Knight with bright Pink Hair riding a Unicorn. Calls himself; "Sir Rainbows"
3 - A Cloaked Stranger riding a horse that appears to be made of brambles. Gives no name.
4 - A Classic Strong-man riding another Classic Strong-man. Call themselves the Mighty Bruno (collectively apparently).
5 - An emo dressed in deep black leather armour riding a horse with flaming eyes. Calls himself "the Hellknight". Seems like a dickhead.
6 - A huge, HUGE man riding a dinky little horse. Calls himself "The Lump".
7 - A mysterious foreigner in lacquered armour riding a lizard. Calls themselves "Samurai".
8 - A Knight in shining armour Riding a Stallion. Calls themselves "Sir Milquetoast".
9 - A naked man riding a big dog. Calls themselves "James".
10 - A Southerner in a turban, blue skinned, and riding a sandy horse. Calls themselves "Saladin".
11 - A mysterious man bound up all about in bandages, riding a similarly bandaged horse. Calls themselves "Fedduci".
12 - A serious man wearing half-plate upon a scarred horse. Calls themselves "The Professional".
13 - A woman dressed in animal skins riding a FUCKING BEAR. Calls herself "Little Miss Dinky".
14 - A woman covered in terrible burns, riding a likewise scarred horse. Calls herself "Singed."
15 - A pale-skinned woman riding a white horse. Calls herself "The Frosty Reception".
16 - A woman wrapped around thickly in her own hair, riding a horse that also appears to be entirely wrapped in the rider's hair. Calls herself "Rap-lance-l."
17 - A woman with fire-cracker breast-plates, neon gauntlets, and a meat-helmet, riding a horse the size of an elephant. Calls herself "Lady GooGoo".
18 - A woman whose skin appears to be ceramics, riding a horse with a rose for a face. Calls herself "Lady Elvelin".
19 - A woman dressed in only silks, exotic and alluring, riding a tiger. Calls herself "Femme Fatale".
20 - A woman with a glowing halo, attendent doves, and a background choir soundtrack, riding a winged horse. Calls herself "The Lady Saint".

12 - The Magic Item Auction

The Magic Item Auction is a total Farce. The lots are (at least, the intention is that they are) totally fake, and it is all a scam. Some of them are a little magical, but not to the full extent of the advertisement. Determine the true nature of each lot as it is introduced. Sell it for far, far too much money. Be unrepentant when its all garbage.

The True Nature of the Lot
1: Totally Non-Magical, obviously so.
2 - 4: A Very Clever Fake
5: Well, it is slightly magical. Has a greatly diminished effect.
6: Turns out this is actually the Real Deal, to everyone's great surprise

The Lots of the Auction
1 - The Turbo-Encabulator
2 - The Maul of Saint Agatha
3 - The Finger Bone of Saint Berthold
4 - The Cape of Blades
5 - Supreme Blasting Powder
6 - Infusion of Knowledge
7 - Necklace of Dragon-Control
8 - Orb of the Blue Mage
9 - A Pack of Hands of Glory
10 - A Piece of the True Covenant!
11 - A Seed of the World-Spine
12 - A Lantern of Unquenchable Flame
13 - The Mirrored Sword of The First Emperor
14 - The Troll-Bane Sigil
15 - An Earthen-Blood Blade
16 - A Ceramic Promise
17 - An Amber-Bound Pixie!
18 - A Handful of Obols from the Far Shores of Death!
19 - An Oar from the Brass-Boats of Hell!
20 - An Amulet for the Protection of the Self from Evil Eye!

Voras, the Eight-Legged Forest

A titanic spider that crawls about the darkest heart of the woods, drinks up streams, and slurps up cows and horses. Only sometimes houses. Often mistaken for a 'wandering hill', though those that see it for what it is will never mistake it or forget it. The Spider is eerily quiet considering its size, some heroes have told tales of how they have scaled the creature, to access the forest and gardens that grow upon the Spider's back.

The gardens of the Spider are a tangled mess of green and brown, studded with coloured blazes of flowers. There are many wonderful sights of all kinds, in terms of flora and fauna, including a rather singular strain of Poppy. If turned to Opium, it will induce a high unlike any other, where you somewhat dissociate from yourself and become able to see and talk to spirits that normally veil themselves from the sight of mortals. Of course, this is all within the haze of the Opium high, and if you overdose, you will dissociate so much from yourself that the Spirits will take you away from your body, never to return... Even so, most all druids covet this Poppy, and would bargain mightily for it.

The gardens are wild and beautiful, and also dangerous. They are haunted by things made of grass in the shape of men, wielding weapons like branches. Snakes like vines lurk in the long grasses, and Pine-Cone Beetles that shoot streams of thick, cloying sap. Clouds of semi-sentient pollen that choke and smother before taking root in the freshly-dead. Perhaps the greatest predator of the Gardens is a huge, ambulatory rose-bush, wandering on thorny tentacle-limbs, with a great bush-head crowned with many roses. It drinks blood through its thorns, and picks up foes in great tangled nooses of vines, the drained blood refreshing the redness of its flowers.

Upon the very crest of the spider's abdomen lies an ancient stone circle, the home of an even more ancient Nature Spirit, an Oracle of the Arts.
This stone circle is guarded by a quartet of stone gargoyles. Each have four arms, and each has the head of a different beast.
The Hawk-headed gargoyle spews forth a torrent of water.
The Eel-headed gargoyle spits balls of reeking mud.
The Heron-headed gargoyle's beak is slathered in paralysing venom.
The Weasel-headed gargoyle's breath is thick and lingering fog.
The grandest of the standing stones each bear a symbol depicting these animals, and each gargoyle will spend their time perching upon their stone.

The Oracle of the Spider is a spirit of art and beauty, dwelling powerfully in a rough, naturally formed statue of a pair of entwined lovers. The matching of the lovers is different to each viewer. The spirit is knowledgeable on all matters of the arts, of love, and of beauty. They can identify lovers at a single glance, and know how best you might go about a seduction. They can whisper secrets to make you irresistible, how to make yourself truly radiant. They know an artists works at a touch of the brushstroke, they innately know all of art that is known by any who considers themselves an artist. They can even provide unto you a great measure of artistic skill, if you give them a grand work of art in return, along with the promise that you will create something of equal beauty to the gift you gave.

At the centre of the Spider's thorax, is a pool of purest, perfect water. Off-shoots of the pool feed jagged channels that ferry water all over the Spider, even so far as to flow uphill to reach the abdomen and the ends of the legs. At the bottom of the pool is a cluster of pure white jewels, which match the clusters that make up the spider's eyes. Removing any of these jewels causes great pain to the spider, and removing enough of them will kill it eventually. Drinking from the pool temporarily grants the imbiber the ability to speak with the dead and the plants.

The Candlemarsh

Well, I think its relatively finished.

Out on the edges of the Civilised World, lurks a rotten and stinking place, the Candlemarsh. It is a dark and mysterious place, swampy wetlands ringing a dank and overgrown bog-forest. Even from beyond the wetlands, you can see the tiny dancing lights of the swamp. Local legend tells you that Boggarts plant tiny candles in the swamp, why; no one can say for certain, though everyone is quick to offer their interpretation. People go missing near here every so often, but then again that happens in every frontier town. Perhaps a few times a year, bands of drunk and over-confident adventurers go in, and the lucky ones that come out return drenched in muck and pestilence, gibbering of haunting terrors and beasts. The locals know better than to go there; better to place a candle on the edges every now and again to placate whatever it is in the marshes that loves candles so much and hope it doesn't take you next.

No one knows the truth about the Trolls, and the slumbering God they worship.

The Hooks for Entering this Wretched Place

1 - The Troll-King is performing more and more raids. Stop him.

2 - The Land trembles, the God 'Neath the Marsh stirs.

3 - The Druids propitiate for someone, anyone to end the war in the Marsh.

4 - Rumours are spreading that the Trolls have stolen more and more loot.

5 - Within the Swamp, is the tower of an ancient Archmage, never found.

6 - A Troll left the swamp, begging for someone to have mercy and slay the Troll-King.

7 - Dreams are leaking from the Swamp, of an almighty Candle flowing forth from screaming people.

8 - A Flame Demon has taken the Swamp for its home, the church would pay well for its exorcism.

Rumours of Candlemarsh

1 - Fire Demon has taken residence [P]

2 - A Candle marks the place of the dead [F]

3 - There are boggarts in the heart of the swamp or some such [P]

4 - You die there, your soul burns up into a little moth [F]

5 - A Powerful Moth-Clad Spirit lives in the swamp [T]

6 - The Swamp gators are stupidly hard to kill, don't bother [T]

7 - I've seen a two-headed demon in there... [P]

8 - There's sunken treasure from an old hero who though he could conquer the marsh... [T]

9 - Those candles is made of people, a passing necromancer told me so [T]

10 - If you see a heron, run; its not a heron [T]

11 - If you hear creaking, run; its the guardian god of the marsh [P]

12 - A wizard used to live in the marsh, his tower fell down long long ago though [T]

Terrains of the Marsh

1 - Fenland - Much of the outer Candlemarsh consists of this. No effects other than movement is 3/4 of its regular speed.
2 - Foetid Lake - Not all that deep really, but just a little too deep, and the mud sucks at your feet to drag you down. Best to go around it. Impassable without proper methods or suicidal tendencies.
3 - Muck Isles - A rare bit of solid land amongst the muds and mucks. Always has an encounter on/in it. Normal movement speed whilst actually on the isle.
4 - Scum-Brush - Most common in the inner Candlemarsh, this is an area where the brush grows a little lower, all gristley bushes and pathetic shrub-stands. 1/2 normal movement speed here.
5 - Grime Groves - A part of the Swamp that contains a Druid-grove, Mangrove trees grow here commonly. 1/2 normal movement speed here.
6 - Troll-forest - The deepest part of the Marsh, where the trolls wade through the murk, and build their grovelling hovels. 1/2 normal movement speed here, and double chance of encounters.

Locations within the Candlemarsh

These are all marked on the map of the swamp. They are immediately obvious when their hex is entered, though you can enter their hex without entering the location.

Troll-Home

Aside from these places of interest, there are a smattering of other hovel-homes, enough for the Trolls to lurk in when sleep comes for them.
1 - Fat-Renderers
These Trolls take the fat from the Meat Hangers and rendering it down in vats into wax-materials for the Candle-Makers. These Trolls are particularly chubby, even for Troll-kind, and they will tell you often and loudly that they have absolutely no idea why. Everyone knows, but its not worth the bother of bringing up. A few truly unlucky human-prizes have ended up in the vats without being "processed" first, not that the outcome is any different.

2 - Meat-Hangers
These Trolls hang the prey captured on hunts up in their vast abattoir-hall on rusty bog--iron hooks, drain the blood from them, skim off the fat, and butcher the meat roughly. No-one in Troll-home dares irritate a Meat-Hanger. For many reasons.

3 - Candle-Makers
These Trolls are the most prestigious Trolls outside of the Troll King's inner circle and the Oni. It is they that fashion the wicks and waxes into the Candles that the Trolls distribute around the swamp. They are rarely allowed to risk themselves on hunts (which they don't grudge at all) and enjoy many other privileges of the Troll-King's favour. Of all Trolls, these are the few that actually like the Troll-King.

4 - 'Palace' of the Troll-King
More a Grand Feast-Hall in the style of the Saxons, it is here that the Troll-King holds his "court", and endlessly debates with himself where the next place to raid should be, and how to deal with the Moth-King once and for all. There are many Trolls here at all times, and occasionally all the Trolls in Troll-Home will gather here to feast beneath the watchful eye of the Troll-King. These events inevitably end with the Troll-King butchering one of his enemies in public though. He thinks he's being terribly clever and cunning by disguising his intentions so, though most have figured out the ploy at this point.

5 - Fight-Pit
Less of a conscious construction, and more of a happy accident. The Druids sent a bear imbued with much of their magic, twisted and augmented into a powerful spirit-host to slaughter the Trolls. However, it ended being caught in a sink-hole created by the magics of the Oni, and bound in place with foul spirit-contracts. A good portion of the Druid's power is still bound up in the bear, and can only be released by the bear's death at this point. As for the Trolls, the Troll-King has offered a great reward to which ever Troll can destroy the Bear in single-combat. Many have tried, all have failed, and the onlookers and observers find it all absolutely hilarious to watch. The reward remains unclaimed, and it grows with each failed hopeful.

6 - The Drowning Hut
The "temple" of the Trolls, where the Oni lurk, and conduct their Spirit-pacts and communions with the idle dreams of the God 'Neath the Marsh. Named so because their chief rite is to submerge themselves and drown themselves to the brink of death in the mud to experience the messages of their patron before being pulled free. It is near totally-covered in candles on the outside.

The Old Tower of the Wizard
Use the generators here to discover what was once here, then ruin it systematically. Leave little left.
The guests and dwellers of the tower are probably all dead, or long gone. Perhaps some are left. They would probably disrupt the order of the Marsh, and that's a cool thing.

All that is left to discover is on this table, which requires a good hour of searching to roll on.
1 - A scrap of a spell, counts as being worth 10gp if used (and consumed) for spell research.
2 - A potion of recovery, somewhat gone off. Restores 2d4-2 HP when drunk.
3 - A ritual dagger, discoloured and twisted. Worthless.
4 - An enchanted arrow that prevents the target from talking on a hit. Wisdom save to negate.
5 - A wand, misshapen and malfunctioning. Shoots a bolt of d4 damage at a random target on use.
6 - A rope that snakes along at 2 inches per second (ie 5ft per round), can obey simple orders.
7 - Rotten plants in a shattered glass tube. Worthless.
8 - A mirror that only shows people lying about their identity.
9 - A vial of suspiciously smelling ooze. Deadly poisonous.
10 - An actual, honest to god, true, decent condition, magic item of the DM's choice.

The Stilt-born House of the Angler Hag
Home of Aunty Seepstitch. See later entry.

Terrors of the Marsh

Base-Beasts of the Marsh
These creatures are the closest thing you get to mundane animals in the Candlemarsh. They are basically non-hostile, and non-threatening except to total jerks and/or idiots. Assume 1HD for each.

1 - Stilt Elk - Like regular elk, only with long spindle legs, and long spindle anters.

2 - Filth-Eels - Long, rubbery eels that look like mud from a distance.

3 - Gurgle-Fish - Just, really, really ugly and bad-tasting fish.

4 - Bleakling Birds - Like ravens but fat and bloated with a mournful and crackling cry.

5 - Pyre-Flies - Fire-flies that feast on the dead and glow as they eat for other flies.

6 - Mange-Minx - Mottled and mangy felines that hunt Bleakling birds.

The True Terrors

1 - Marsh-Plague
Makes your flesh go all soft and waxy, and all orifices constantly spill forth watery humours. At the end of each day you have Marsh-Plague, reduce your highest ability score by 1, determining randomly between tied scores. If you die because of the effects of the plague, you have a 5 in 6 chance of coming back within d6 minutes as a Bloat-Dead. If you die due to other causes while you have Marsh-Plague, the chances are only 2 in 6 to return.

2 - The Trolls
There are many of them in the Marsh. At least a dozen, perhaps as many as forty. [The actual number is 10 + 5d6.] At any one time, there will be d3-1 hunting parties of 2d4 Trolls out seeking Flesh for feasting and fat for Candles out and about in the Marsh. Only rarely do they venture beyond the Marsh [1 in 8 chance]. In each hunting party, the lowest of the d4 results indicate Troll-Warriors, who wear layered leather armour and carry Bog-Iron Smashers. If encountered in Troll Home, 1 in 4 encountered will be warriors. d4 of the Village are the mysterious Oni of the Drowning Faith, the "religion" of the Trolls (in a very broad sense, its more like a ritualised version of leaving meat out for a lion in the hopes that it eats the meat, rather than you). The can call to insects and miasmas of the marsh to serve them for a time, and they carve potent charms from their own, regenerating bones. Their magic is highly transactional though, and they can rack up some seriously high debts... The Chieftan of the tribe is one mean mo' fo', he has two heads, four arms, and three legs. A true brute without a hint of empathy and half as tall again as the more mundane trolls, he has bullied his way to the top through violence and proclamations of the God 'Neath the Marsh's blessing upon him due to his prodigious size and gifts of limbs. The second head is somewhat subservient to the first, and seems to serve as much out of fear as the other trolls. He is in truth, part Hydra; somehow. If any of his limbs (though not including his heads) results in the growth of 2 replacement limbs growing out over the next few seconds.He courts disaster with his poor treatment of his people, but for now at least, disaster is yet afraid of him.
Subnote: Troll bites carry Troll-Blight, which causes cancerous growths around the bite-wound, but also bestows a measure of Troll-regeneration once the growths have matured sufficiently.

3 - The Creakbeast

A crazy wooden golem built around the body of a dead magic-user whose body still reeks of magic. Creakbeast looks like the bastard child of a serpent and wolf that's been built out of a shipwreck. It can still call on magic, and all trolls fear it flaming jaws and breath. It can call illusory copies of itself, and sweat fog. It can telekinetically move its shorn off pieces, which becomes only more deadly the more it is damaged. It can't be "killed" as such, as it slowly regenerates its wooden body over time, but it radiates a slightly random amount of magic each turn, which it uses to power itself, adn the excess to powers its magical effects. Damaging it reduces the amount of magic it can generate, and if damaged enough, it would collapse, effectively dead. It would also be destroyed by the removal of the Wizard's body, but getting at the body is basically the same thing anyway.

4 - The Candle Golem

An experiment between the Candle-maker trolls and the Oni, who bound a powerful spirit of the swamp at great cost into a body of wax, wick, and flame. This was all conducted under the greatest secrecy in the hope that the result might be strong enough to challenge the Troll King. It went mad though, and fled into the swamp where it lurks like a base beast, prompting rumours of the birth of a flame demon within the marsh. It terrifies the trolls. It fights with flaming fists, and though severing parts of its body is easy enough, it can 'regenerate' lost parts at a cost to its overall integrity. It has some command of water still from its spirit-animator, and it will attempt to trap foes in prisons of up-flowing water.

5 - Flicker-Flame Moths

Not really dangerous as such, they really aren't all that aggressive, but they do eat flame, which in turn creates new moths. The flesh-fat candles of the Trolls aren't just votives, the burning meat-smoke drives away the moths, who are a threat to the Trolls, who see them as embodiments of Divine Wrath. If attacked, they form a flowing, undulating swarm which is surprisingly hypnotic, before the swarm dives upon you in a swirling conflagration, burning and scorching indiscriminently.

6 - Troll-Eater Crocodiles

They feast on troll flesh, and have learned to maim, eat, and release prey as a more dependable food supply. They have long, spindly limbs so they move more like insects that they do crocodiles. Their flesh melts and mends like troll-flesh, though they don't share the troll's fear of flame. They can only be killed by the removal of their stomach, which always contains a small measure of troll-flesh, the source of the Crocodile's regeneration. However, the stomach does need to be burnt, or the flesh will grow out of control in an illogical, cancerous spreading.

7 - The Moth-King

A powerful spirit of the swamp, and Lord of the Local insect population, though this doesn't include the Flicker-Flame moths, which most disturbs the Moth-King. It can change its size at will, and always appears to be a couple of feet taller than those it converses with, the better to loom over them in the gloom. Its wings are ragged from battles with the trolls, with whom it passively wars for control of the swamp. If the moth king gets a hold of a troll skull, it cups it in its hands, whispers magic to it, and cause it to flake away into bone-winged moths the size of cats, which fight for it. It is surprisingly strong for its weight, and its favourite tactic is to carry its target high up into the air and drop it to dash it on rocks, or a piece of Rosecoal. It also likes drowning and strangling, which bypass troll-regeneration. It can create powerful gusts of wind, and has potent magics of illusion and confusion. It is so far preoccupied with the Trolls of the Marsh, and is quite indifferent to men for now.

8 - False-Herons

As tall as a man, on thin stilt legs, long curved necks, and wickedly sharp beaks. It seems to be a bird, but it is not. Its beak splits three ways, and when it attacks, the beak spreads out like a star, and set of three chameleon-esque tongues launch forth to snare prey and pull them into the Heron's beak, which is crocodile-strong, enough to snap through flesh and bone. They run devilishly fast with amazing surity of footing, due to their many eyes which ring their whole heads. Their wings aren't wings at all, merely useless, atrophied waste-limbs. These guys are just, total dick-heads to be honest.

9 - Bloat-Dead

Terrifying mottled, molten zombies filled with rot-gases contained barely within their bubbling wax-flesh. Not really all that different from regular zombies, except that they are more cunning, and burst once they have taken sufficient damage. They can set ambushes, and lurk in the mud to surprise their prey, and when destroyed, they burst forth in a shower of noxious filth, infecting those nearby with Marsh-Plague.

10 - Rosecoal

Black and pitted volcano-stone like sturdy, stocky pumice that's set in rough ringed petals like roses. Boulders of it can be found dotted around the swamp, solid clusters of charcoal-black stone flowers. They are stupendously hot, and even being in close vicinity to one can be devastating. Water nearby it steams incessantly, and scalds to the touch. If cooled sufficiently, (which is a devilishly hard task) the Rosecoal splits apart like an orange whose skin is too small for it, revealing within a white-hot spider-like beast. It thrashes about in the cold, cooling through raging red and angry yellow finally to a cool grey before finally itself splitting into brittle shreds with a terrible scream. The spiders were ancient servants of the God 'Neath the Marsh. Should the God awaken, so too shall the spiders, who will enjoy the protection of their patron once more to endure the cold of our otherwise-insufferable world.

Other Inhabitants of the Marsh

The Druids of the Swamp

There are d4+2 groves of Swamp Druids in the Candle-Marsh, in clustered Groves of trees in the wooded parts of the Marsh. Each consists of a small settlement of 8+3d8 individuals.

Rarely do they walk the earth beyond their Groves, they swim through the muck, or crouch in the trees.

Armed with crude bows and spears, a few wield stolen Troll Bog-Iron Smashers they have stolen, holding them in both hands. Their magics call forth the Water and Pestilence Spirits of the Marsh, and their beast forms and allies are fish and birds. Their Groves are Mangroves Trees, whose upturned roots support the platforms upon which homes are built.

One tree in particular is sacrosanct to them, a huge and twisted Oak tree, blasted and blooming out from the swamp-water. The bough has split, and the cracks that run up its bulbous sides have been stuffed the bodies of the oldest Druids, and their wisdom has diffused into the spirit of the tree itself. The druids ask many questions of the Tree.

Other treasures of the Druids include old, nearly wooden apples that they throw which then burst forth into wasp swarms. Some are equipped with blow-dart tubes that they use to shoot flesh-eating worms into your flesh. Some wield nets made of strung out mosses.

Potential leaders of the Druid Groves:

1 - Warlike and aggressive because of the Trolls, seeks their obliteration, arms like bears

2 - Has become slightly too in tune with the Marsh, and has begun their Naturalisation

3 - Highly attuned to the Water, swims as a fish to spy on the Trolls

4 - Slow to consider, they leave behind scraps of wood as their feet try to root to the earth

5 - Their hair is a mess of feathers, and the air is their domain along with the Moth-King

6 - Hair like moss, teeth like stones, they swim through the earth as though it were water

7 - A pair of great antlers sprout from their head, they are challenged for leadership often, they have never lost

8 - Flesh like bark, and smouldering from within, they lead a crusade against the trolls with flame

Potential Central Totems of the Druid Groves:

1 - A Gnarled and Crooked Willow Tree, from which many Trolls have been hung.

2 - The posed and Roaring Skeleton of a Great Bear, embellished with many Troll bones.

3 - A Totem Pole carved from the Heart-wood of a mighty tree, depicting all the beasts of the Marsh

4 - A mighty standing stone, abstractly depicting the curvings and striations of the Marsh.

5 - Something like a shrine, only overflowing and blossoming with Fungus, sometimes fed meat.

6 - A Pile of the bones of old druids, a grand ossuary sculpture that is continuously added to.

7 - A hot-spring, within whose steaming waters dwells a Naiad of gentle and nurturing nature.

8 - A Grand Stone Brazier, ever burning, fed forever on the fat of Trolls.

Aunty Seepstitch
An Angler Hag has taken root in the Candlemarsh, an powerful being clad in the guise of an old woman, only twisted and wretched. She is thick-set, swaddled in lovingly sewn granny-garments, but her hands end in wicked goblin-claws, her jaw is too large for her head, and her mouth is full of thin, near-transparent needle-teeth. Beneath her matriarch-cap hides her lure, an arch of flesh ending in a tiny, strangely hypnotic candle-flame. She is a huntress through and through, beware her lights.
At heart, she is a predator. She can pretend to be kind and cheerful, she can play the role of a welcoming host, but she is always watching with the eyes of a tiger, waiting for the moment for her strike to sneak up and under your guard. She plays at fine dining, but keeps relapsing to her natural, brutal ways often without even realising or remembering. She will be delicately slicing fine shreds of meat to boil up into a broth, and then in an instant be stabbing the meat with the fury of a maniac, before returning to delicate slices. She will caress on of her many 'pets' gently, motherly, before bringing it up to her mouth, gorging herself with fury in her eyes, and then return to the petting. Don't try to confront her about it, it will only get you killed.
She can brew all kinds of lovely Teas, which she frequently brews for her terrified Troll 'guests'. The one thing she loves more than the hunt are guests, to the point where she will even take in those she would normally have not qualms slaughtering for meat if they knock at her door.
In her 'larder' there are a pair of gagged, drugged, terrified druids; bound and caked in mud and muck.
Swimming through the air as if it were water, are the Hag's familiar Spirits, a pair of electric Eels. The can cast bite, with the same effect as Shocking Grasp, and if both grapple the same person, the energy they create immobilises the target as if by a Hold Person spell. She loves both of them dearly, and feeds them little morsels every now and again, and will not let any harm befall them.
Sometimes, she gives the local Bloat-Dead little flower-crowns to make them seem... more cheerful.

The Angler Hag Out and About
When in a Hex adjacent to the Hag's home, any encounter will instead be with the Angler Hag in an 2 in 6 chance. When in the Hex containing the Hag's home, any encounter will instead be with the Angler Hag in a 4 in 6 chance.
1 - She wrestles hand to hand with a Troll-Eater Crocodile, in a couple of turns she will tear its throat out with her teeth and then drag it back to her home to cut up and cook.
2 - She runs full tilt, cackling maniacally, as she chases after a pack of False-Herons, who flee screeching before her. She will tear out the tongues of the ones she catches.
3 - She stalks a group of Druids, they are unaware that one of them will end up in her pot. They will only notice when it is too late.
4 - She delicately pulls away scraps of fungus and moss and carefully lays them down on a tray. She will take them home to dry them.
5 - She has a Bloat-Dead pinned beneath her feet. She pulls out a huge, crude syringe and sucks out a great measure of pus from the Bloat-Dead, and tosses the empty husk away.
6 - She roughly guides a pair of obviously terrified trolls by the hands, telling them about the tea she will brew for them and how lucky they are they caught her when they did.
7 - She draws water from the swamp, reaches in and pulls out a wriggling writhing clutch of eels. She gulps them down one after the other.
8 - She is knelt on top of a squealing Stilt-Elk. With a wrench, she tears the antlers from its head, and leaves it there, bleeding.

Teas and Imbibements of the Angler Hag
Of course, these names are just names. Who knows what might actually end up in each of the recipes? The effects however, are predictable. The effects of each last for one day.
1 - Gristlewort Tea: This bitter, bitter tea inures you to the swamp air. You automatically pass any save to resist disease, but also automatically fail any save to disbelieve illusions as the tea numbs your mind.
2 - Cuttlemoss Tea: This flowery and fragrant tea causes your wounds seal much quicker than perhaps they should. Whenever you take damage from a mundane weapon, you take 1 damage less (to a minimum of 1). You also take one damage more from magical sources, as your flesh becomes a better conductor of eldritch energies.
3 - Thicket-bean Coffee: Surprisingly creamy, this brown-ish drink counts as a days worth of rations when drunk, though you do need to eat double the regular requirement of rations the following day.
4 - Bogberry Cordial: This sweet, cloying drink means that insects take no notice of you, though you also suffer a -1 modifier to your stealth saves.
5 - Gin and Trollic: Best not ask what goes into this thick, coppery drink. You regenerate 1 hit point each hour while this drink affects you. Trolls will know what you have down to earn this power, and will always attack you unless you have truly proved yourself a Troll-friend.
6 - THE THUNDERER: Make a constitution save versus poison when you imbibe this stormy-grey liquor. If you fail, your guts thunder within you, halving your constitution score for the day. If you pass, you contain the storm within, and can vomit a thunderclap once until the end of the day, as per a Thunderwave spell.

The Old Man of the Moss-Clumps
It is huge and hulking, rough-shapen from moss and mud. It is one of the many Geniis Loci of the swamp, and most certainly the most powerful and most often seen as well. It cares little for the politics and goings on of the swamp's inhabitants, and indeed if it can speak at all, it never has. It is content to wander the swamp, seemingly aimlessly, roaming and meandering. While it seems to never interact with anything that doesn't initiate some sort of violence upon it, it does have a curious disposition towards the Troll Fat-Candles, which it always snuffs out. Thus, it sometimes comes into conflict with the trolls, invariably ending with a few ground up Trolls and a little more ragged-round-the-edges Man of the Moss-Clumps. Probably the Troll-King will tire of it eventually, and order a great hunt to slay it. It will probably work too, though not without the loss of many Troll lives.

Encounters in the Marsh

Whilst within the Outer edges of the marsh, roll a d12 to determine encounter, and add d6-1 each time you roll a maximum result on a dice, to a maximum result of 30.

Whilst within the Midway ranges of the marsh, roll a d20 to determine encounter, and add d6-1 each time you roll a maximum result on a dice, to a maximum result of 30, and removing d6-1 from the total for each minimum result of a dice, to a minimum result of 1

Whilst within the Inner heartland of the marsh, roll a d20+10 to determine encounter, removing d6-1 from the total for each minimum result of a dice, to a minimum result of 1.

Outer
1 - A clutch of Troll-Eater Crocodiles stares at you from the water. [2d4 crocodiles]
2 - A band of Druids tends to a wounded Mange-Minx. [d6 Druids of the Swamp]
3 - A scared troll curled up sobs to itself while surrounded by a swarm of otherwise indifferent Flicker-Flame Moths.
4 - A Troll smashes on the ground nearby, the Moth King circles lazily above.
5 - Creak-beast crashes out of the water and immolates a False-Heron instantly. The others run, Creak-beast chases after, flames licking from its mouth. [2d4 Stilt Herons]
6 - The ground gives way beneath the party's feet, slumping into a pool in which rests an outcrop of Rosecoal.
7 - A Troll skins the fat from a Stilt-Elk carcass while its companions keep watch over the other bodies they have caught. [2d4 Stilt-Elk corpses, 2d4 Trolls]
8 - False-Herons watch the waters and occasionally snatch up Filth-Eels. [d6 False-Herons, not initially aggressive]
9 - Druids sit in a circle in communion with a great Mud-Spirit in the crude form of a man, huge and hulking. [3d3 Druids of the Swamp]
10 - The water boils and steams up ahead, Rosecoal lurks in the steam, a blistering troll painfully drags itself free from the water.
Midway
11 - The Moth-King struggles with a troll far away, before finally tearing off the Troll's head, and flying off.
12 - A Troll hunting party chases a group of Stilt-Elk with spears. [2d4 Trolls, 3d6 Stilt-Elk]
13 - False-Herons chase a terrified troll through waist-high water. [2d4 False Herons]
14 - A band of Trolls plant Candles on the more sturdy outcrops of land and rock. [2d4 Trolls]
15 - Candle Golem paces around the swamp, lonely and insane.
16 - A group of Bloat-Dead erupt out the mud, screaming for meat. [d6d6 Bloat-Dead]
17 - A Maiden of mud, muck, and filth sits on a rock, wringing brown water from her reed-hair. She is a spirit of the Marsh, and has much to tell those who are polite, and offering appropriate gifts.
18 - Several leeches have attached themselves to vulnerable parts of the party. Removing them costs 1 hp, and is somewhat uncomfortable. While attached, leeches decrease the amount of healing from hit die by 1 hp per dice.
19 - A wandering ghost of a forlorn adventurer meanders through the murk, forever looking for its lost arm. It might know much about the trolls...
20 - A Troll makes an offering to the God 'Neath the Marsh, muck and filth flow up it and seeps into its flesh, bolstering its regeneration for a time. The Troll plans to enter the Fight-Pit.
Inner
21 - Creak-beast bursts through the reeds with a terrifying scream of flame.
22 - A band of Trolls chases after the Moth-King, who eventually launches into the sky and flees to the woods. [3d6 Trolls]
23 - A group of Troll-Eater Crocodiles tear at a pair of Trolls while any of their companions smash at them with claws and weapons. [2d4 Trolls, 2d4 Crocodiles]
24 - Candle-Golem smashes a Troll that is desperately trying to crawl away. It will not escape.
25 - Druids battle with a Band of Trolls, it could go either way. [2d4 Trolls, 3d6 Druids of the Swamp]
26 - Creak-Beast and Troll-Eater crocodiles struggle with each other, rolling hither and thither trying to tear each other apart [2d4 Troll-Eater Crocodiles]
27 - The Angler Hag lies in ambush here. She will kill one, devour it, then chase the others.
28 - The Old Man of the Moss-Clumps thumps its way through the murk. It stops to snuff a Troll-Candle, then wanders on.
29 - There is an old and rotten pallisade here. Within, there are the remains of old adventurers, gnawed by beasts of the swamp. There are a few Troll-Bone trophies here.
30 - The Troll-King and some of his closest courtiers are out on a Man-Hunt. Run.

The God 'Neath the Murk

What is the God 'Neath the Murk actually? And what of the Rosecoal Spiders?
1 - A Forest God, impure and corrupted by the muck and mucky thoughts of the Trolls. It is bloating on their horrid worship, and twisting into something else. The Rosecoal Spiders are manifestations of this corruption.
2 - A Great Old One, slumbering and dreaming beneath the waters. The Rosecoal Spiders are ancient, alien servitor machines that await the awakening of their ineffable master.
3 - The Spirit of the Old Wizard who lived here. They long sought the power of the spirits of the rotten places in a hope to discover what it is that made men rot. Eventually it found out, and the knowing of it ruined his mind. The Rosecoal Spiders are emanations of the Wizard's madness, whose spirit has now fused with the Spirit of the Swamp itself, which roils insanely in the spirit world.
4 - The Spirit of the First Druid who lived here, long before the others. It began its Naturlisation, but resisted, and became a Loam Lich. It has lain dormant from centuries now, and the Rosecoal Spiders are the first stirings of the Liches dreams of fire and stone.
5 - A Water God, whose form breaches into the Mortal World, forming this swamp. The Rosecoal Spiders are servants that keep the Water God subdued, for it wishes not to wander the Mortal Lands, but the distant and yet close ranges of Nevuah.
6 - A Mighty and Terrible Leviathan, buried for millenia beneath the Muck. The Rosecoal Spiders are parasites that fed from its ever-boiling blood.
7 - A GREEN God, overflowing with Phlegmatic Humours. It is dreaming of plants, creepers, vines; yet when these thoughts reach the mortal world, they are already feotid and rotting. Thus was born the Marsh. The Rosecoal Spiders are its cast off thoughts and emotions, cool on top, writhing beneath.
8 - Something else of your own creation.