Sunday, 27 April 2025

The Future (Four Puppets)


The first one came to him at night while he was trying to fall asleep. When it arrived it told him that it was from the future, and that what it wanted to do was help him get there. When he asked where, it said ‘the future’, as though this was obvious; it wanted to help him get to the future. It was not immediately clear how it was speaking to him because its body seemed to be absolutely inert. It appeared next to his bed somehow; he closed his eyes and opened them and it was there, sprawled out on the floor. Its voice came into his head like telepathy. It laughed when he said this and agreed that yes, the way that it spoke was very like telepathy, functionally indistinguishable even. The body was lying on its side on the floorboards, turned away from him, a pale, naked thing, the face and gender invisible, the flesh shining white in the moonlight. He thought that he was dreaming, and this made him unafraid to ask how it planned to bring him into the future. It said ‘by pedagogical means’, which was specific enough that he didn’t know how to respond immediately. He laid there and stared at the pale thing with his mind racing through the possibilities. As he watched he became sure that it was a corpse, something dead that had appeared spontaneously in his tiny bedroom and with which he was now engaged in this strange dialogue. There was no movement at all. A feeling began to rise up inside him; the slow, rising horror of the certainty that comes sometimes in nightmares.

Trying to keep any panic from his voice he asked what is it that you think you can teach me? The answer came back in the same modulated, pleasant tones. 

How to be still, how to be inanimate. How to lie back and surrender all motive force in your limbs and torso, how to stop speaking, how to stop involuntary movements and expressions on your face, how not to respond, to pain or other stimulus, how to be perfectly at rest. This is what you are like in the future.

He says I’d like to go to sleep and it says yes, you should sleep, what I have to teach you will not happen tonight, this is simply our first meeting and my chance to introduce myself. Don’t worry, go to sleep.



-



When he woke up he was horrified to see that the body was still there, still lying in the exact same position, but now covered in bright sunshine instead of moonlight. It was quite a different thing now. He could see that what had looked like naked skin was actually fabric of some kind, and that the human form was only rough— it was like a doll the size of a human adult, stuffed with rags or cotton to swell it out into a series of approximate forms. When he went over to touch it he could see that it was not even fully coherent; pieces of the manikin-thing fell apart as he shifted it, and the stuffing tumbled out, deflating the object, which no longer resembled skin at all. This was how he dispersed the power of the first puppet, which in the end was a weak power, scarcely more real than a nightmare, which was what he mistook the encounter for, willing a forgetting or rationalisation of the body that remained in the bright morning light. 


Its power was in its telepathy/voice, and in its honesty and transparency: it wanted to teach him about the future that he would be taken into. But honesty by itself, without movement, without a face to attach to, without a life against which it can be thrown it into a type of relief; honesty denuded and abstracted this way, into bare enunciation, is not much; certainly nothing to be frightened of. He never even understood that what he had been told that night was exactly correct, because he had no way of contextualising what had happened to him.



-



The second came to him looking like a person, and his encounters with it played out over almost two years. This whole situation was much more ambiguous, because the second puppet never said anything about the future, or about pedagogy, or about immobility, or surrender, and also because it revealed itself through another human and not a random collection of fabric and stuffing. He only realised that he had been visited at all in hindsight, after his third and fourth encounters, when he was already well and truly inside the future, and at liberty to think back on how he had arrived there. But the lessons were much more to the point, and also much more painful, because they came to him naturally as his relationship with this other played itself out over the months and years. 


What he learned was that you could be made still and pliable by something as innocuous as the way that someone changed the intonation in their voice; by someone placing their hand on the base of your spine; by their breathing while they slept; that these things could be enough to induce disembodiment, enough to leave you incapable of movement. The horror of these realisations was always mixed in with a pleasure that he found it difficult to speak about, even with the people closest to him. When the second puppet left what remained were a series of learned behaviours that were no longer attached to any trigger, since they had all been developed in relation to this other who was no longer present. He set about trying to manufacture the triggers artificially, using medications, massage, hypnosis, and also a string of other more or less interchangeable bodies to try to induce those same states— all of this with varying and mostly shallow degrees of success.


His thoughts during these years progressed slowly, very slowly, sharpening and narrowing until eventually they had acquired an extreme and blinding lucidity. They ran like this:


Some people will bring you into the future; they are able to do so. Some people can’t, or won’t, or have forgotten how to; have forgotten what the future looks like, or are afraid of it; are afraid especially of what the future means for you, for your agency, for your body, with its powers of movement, speech, reaction, agency. 


They are afraid of it exactly because of what your body is like in the future.



-



The third one came to him as a set of realities about how he was able to live his life. His body was becoming less animate over time, and he was less and less able to work. Eventually he lost his access to basic necessities like shelter and food. He was laid out first in a room without visitors, and then in some brightly sunlit place. Here he tried hard to become invisible, since he had not yet been able to divest himself of shame. The voice, or the intelligence; the telepathic connection (which he had not heard since his first encounter), said to him: this is the future, this is the future. You are in it, you have arrived.



-



The fourth puppet was one that he built himself. It was made from language.






Bjarne Melgaard





This story will be published later this year if all goes well (don't fret edit-heads, it will be copyedited first). If you enjoyed it you might be interested in my first collection of short fiction (here for UK delivery, here for everywhere else), which I am told by the distributor is close to selling out its first printing. 



Saturday, 26 April 2025

Prestige Class - Pilot-in-Dreaming


Bad things happened in the Old Capital. This is generally known. The men and women who witnessed it, whatever it was, were wiped from history, and the Barony is, in many ways, still recovering from the aftershocks two hundred years later.

Very rarely, the desperate looters and explorers who have travelled into the cursed ruins report seeing people there. These are usually dismissed as tall tales - who (or what) could possibly survive in that blasted and annihilated place? Nonetheless, the Baroness has given strict instructions to her operatives that any who seek congress with these shades are to be killed. 


Aleksandra Waliszewska


PILOT-IN-DREAMING


You cannot normally gain templates in Pilot-in-Dreaming, nor can you start your adventuring career as one - they might make a good replacement character, but will only be encountered in the ruins of the Old Capital. Unlike other prestige classes, you start with an A template and level up as normal. 

Starting Proficiencies: courtly etiquette from another time (something like a Texan gentleman, true for all genders).

Starting Gear: skinsuit (light armour, can be worn inside a Warbody), +1 knife in a ceramic chest sheathe, 3 suicide pills (tasteless, take effect in ten seconds). 

A Pilot-in-Dreaming never has to eat or sleep. The have suppressed emotional responses, and never take fear damage. 

Rules for Warbodies are here


A - Pilot, Dreaming
B - Under the Skin
C - Black Gulfs of Time
D - An End


Pilot: you know how to use a Warbody, how to feed them, how to recognise when they are hungry, etc. If you are wearing your skinsuit, you don't need barrier cream to enter one safely. You also never take damage from improper use of a Warbody. When piloting a Warbody you can use your templates as though it were your own body, and receive +1 to all rolls to hit. 

Dreaming: Something was done to you, in the last terrible days before the ruin of your city and people. You have something living inside your head, a second mind, docile, lobotomised, thoughtless, dreaming. You have no memories at all that aren't the silence of the black city, the desperate combat against the things that survive there. When you die you instead WAKE UP from the awful dreaming of your death. You snap awake, screaming, exactly as you were ten seconds before the killing blow was struck. To an outside observer this looks like a weird visual and mental distortion: you die and you are as you were and then you are not dead and you are as you were. When this happens you gain a permanent point of fatigue and lose d3 WIS. Anyone who sees it happen takes d6 fear damage. You can never travel to the dreamlands. 

Under the Skin: You have no memories, but sometimes you can feel something happen that feels like you - something that you recognise in your dim way. Once, on receiving this template, you can choose to embrace this thing or reject it. If you embrace it, you gain 2 WIS permanently, now need to sleep like a normal human, and lose 2 points of permanent exhaustion sustained from Dreaming. If you reject it, you instead gain 2 STR and 2 CON, which are shared by any Warbody that you pilot. 

Black Gulfs of Time: How many times have you woken up in this body? What have they done to the thing in your mind? If it could speak to you, would it speak in words? You get a single use of Dreaming per week that carries no side effects (although those witnessing it will still take fear damage). If your derived WIS modifier is ever negative, you may ignore that many permanent points of exhaustion sustained from Dreaming. You also get a corresponding bonus to any damage you inflict while piloting in a Warbody. You can remember how to direct Exterminator Orbs

An End: Your human face becomes impossible to recognise. The first time that you enter a Warbody after gaining An End, its (usually impassive, beatific) face becomes your face. You may leave it as normal, but must subtract d6 from your max HP to do so. Your face remains unrecognisable, and the Warbody's face remains your face. The Warbody that wears your face can now eat meat to sustain itself. If you die inside the Warbody that wears you face, you do not WAKE UP. If you die in your human body, you WAKE UP as a feral NPC under the control of the DM, who attacks everything around you. You still WAKE UP in this state, and will be impossible to kill; hopefully your friends can come up with something creative to dispose of you. The Warbody that wears your face will henceforth try to kill anyone else who enters into it, crushing and digesting them for d8 per turn that they are inside it. 



Aleksandra Waliszewska




Thursday, 24 April 2025

D6 Roadfreaks


Lightning quick post after some riffing in the GLOG Discord. Roadfreak is a Vayra term I think?
  1. Eloise Celeriac, gambler. Wants your money but not a thief, just very good at all the mundane forms of gambling. Scrupulously honest, sometimes to her own detriment. If ignored will cause a major upset in town by cleaning out one of the bigwigs and get herself in potentially deadly trouble.
  2. Dangerous Grandee. Old dude with a winning smile. Will offer to sell you fake information about coming dangers. If ignored will shadow you and steal your shit (whatever he can get) at the first opportunity. Flees preferentially, but also carries a loaded Big Iron.
  3. Bastille Charmant, labourer. Actually out of work because he is a compulsive liar and it makes it impossible for him to keep down work or form real relationships. Miserable about this, but doesn’t know how to change. Wants you to hire him to do almost anything, as he is literally starving and deeply lonely. If ignored his luck will change in the next village and he will find true love.
  4. Selen Carver, a violent sociopath who is trying to rawdog morality from first principles. She is smart enough to know that you can’t just kill people, but wants to live true to herself regardless. Wants you to show her bad people (or evidence of your own badness) so that she can cut loose a bit. If ignored she will slip up and be killed by the law.
  5. Bright Lucy, young swashbuckler. One bad eye. Pretty good with a rapier for a 15 year old. Desperately wants to be an adventurer. Will join you as a hireling for free. She’s young! She wants to see the world! Doesn’t care at all about money. If you teach her a level in fighter, she will consider you family (it would be really irresponsible though). If ignored, you will see her again in five years, calling herself 'Cutter' and leading a feared mercenary band.
  6. Zounds, mapmaker. Grumpy and stingy young woman. Wants to sell you a map of the dungeon for truly ridiculous amounts of money, but says (more or less correctly) that you can’t put a price on preparedness. If ignored you’ll find her getting eaten by gnolls the next dungeon on.





Tuesday, 22 April 2025

Two Rooms, Two Monsters - Chem Pit Burial







Me and Loch recently put together a d666 for genning up monsters. In the flurry of activity that followed, I also ended up chatting briefly with Weird Writer about one and two monster dungeons. This was the inevitable result - it's good sometimes to write up a small dungeon quickly, just to flex the muscles. 

If you would do as I do, write up a quick dungeon with d2 monsters in it, and d4+1 rooms. 

Without further ado:



Chem Pit Burial

No one knows when or how the tradition of chemical burial began. The tombs seem to appear at random across the centuries, emerging in preexisting mourning traditions like an ideational cancer. The pits themselves are in fixed locations, scattered mostly over the southern steppe country (though there are exceptions), and the large ones have hundreds of pits and mausoleums dug into them radially, from a thousand different periods and civilisations. All lead down into the centre of the earth, and all of them are profoundly poisonous to humans. Many are additionally encrusted with strange extremophiles and other chthonic life. The location at the lip of hell is the only thing that the tombs have in common.

This one is unusually small, and very old. Geological activity has cracked the heavy stone ceiling - like many of the truly ancient steppe tombs, it was never constructed with a door. The black, jagged opening reeks of sulphur. 



1. The Tomb

A circular stone room, about 20 ft in diameter, with a circular shaft in its centre. The stone ceiling is only 5ft high, and most humans will be rolling to hit at disadvantage in here. It reeks strongly of ammonia, sulphur, petrol - smell is useless in here. It is dark, except for what light comes in at the narrow crack in the ceiling. It is also unstable - any kind of explosion has a 2 in 6 chance of collapsing the tomb and burying those inside. 

The walls are richly painted with bright red and yellow pigments. The images depict strange, multi-limbed humanoids who seem to be engaged in iconic relations and struggles with one another: debates, wherein one is victorious and the other defeated; combats with the same result; flirtations and seductions; the composition of histories and plays. All of these mosaics show the victor or composer figure illumined with rays of light that come from below. 

It is clear that the floor was once painted too, and a quick study will show that the image was once something like a geometrical labyrinth, but the design has been ruined by tracks that look like mould and crude oil, black and viscous.

The tomb is host to a fruiting corpse, which usually rests against the wall at the furthest point from the light that comes in from the crack in the ceiling. 

In the centre of the room is a 10ft wide circular shaft that drops 10ft downwards. Its walls and floor are painted a uniform, bloody red. Arrayed around its edges are 4 clay urns of curious design. If opened or smashed, each contains:
  1. 4d6 Ancient, painted clay coins each worth 100s to a collector. They are submerged in about 20cm of thick black petroleum, which is infected with a random disease.
  2. A beautifully made bronze kris knife. Functional as a light slashing weapon, and also worth 1000s to a collector. 
  3. Two full dog skeletons. A search will reveal that the neck vertebrae have been crushed.
  4. Corpse dust that chokes the room. Not good to breathe. If this happens more than once, save CON each instance past the first, or lose 1 CON permanently.
  5. Acid, kept from dissolving the jar with a thin layer of black glass. If you smashed the urn, take d6 acid damage, with a DEX save for half.
  6. A small amulet made from the brightly coloured material that accretes at the mouth of the chem pit. It has been carved into the likeness of a smiling human face, and has a hole winnowed into it; it was probably once attached to a leather thong. It is intensely poisonous, and will deadly poison any liquid it is placed inside, dissolving slightly each time (10 uses).

In the bottom of this smaller, interior shaft, near the centre, is the chem pit itself: a jagged, natural opening whose mouth is clogged in luridly bright growths and strange flora.  


2. The Chem Pit

Descends around 15 ft before the walls grow too close together for a human to fit. Covered in brightly coloured growths and clusters of small plants that look like anemones. 

The walls are poisonous - for each turn that you spend touching them with bare skin, save CON or take d6 damage. 

Once you are fully inside the Pit, every turn you spend breathing the gasses that seep up from below gives you +1 CHAR and -1 INT and WIS. This lasts 24 hours, at which point you must save WIS - on a failure, the change is permanent.

Any character who has gained at least 1 point of CHAR this way can perceive the prehuman shadow that lurks in the pit.



BESTIARY

Fruiting Corpse

HD6, bronze kris d6 x4, armour: unarmored, but takes half damage from all sources except fire and explosives, speed: creeps along at half walking speed, disposition: friendly, garrulous, gurgling, but incapable of communication or understanding.

The Corpse is a coagulated mass of burial shroud, biological matter, mould, and a distributed, alien nervous system that has grown from spores that drifted up long ago from the deep hot biosphere at the centre of the planet. It still believes itself to be the original inhabitant of the tomb, one of the incalculably ancient, four-armed humans, and considers death in this place to be a great honour; an honour it will attempt to bestow upon all who enter. 

Drops its four kris knives if slain, each worth 1000s to a collector. 



Prehuman Shadow

HD2, maddening shout, possession, unarmoured but immune to physical damage (may be dispersed by light, see shadow body below), speed: five times human speed in shadows, disposition: skittish, defensive, voyeuristic, murderous. 

Maddening Shout: can SCREAM each turn if it does nothing else - this does d6 fear damage to those who hear it, and deafens them on a failed CON save. It will only do this if it thinks it has been discovered. 

Possession: if in contact with a corpse, it can spend a turn inhabiting the body, after which it can use it as its own. It can also do this with living bodies, but must succeed on a contested CHAR check (it rolls at -1 as it is completely insane and has no real willpower). The Shadow will be ejected from whatever it is piloting if the body touches Holy Water, or if a lantern or other strong light source is shone into the eyes at point blank range.

Shadow Body: The Shadow is invisible to those who have not gained at least one point of CHAR in the pit. It cannot move into light, and will always try to avoid being 'surrounded' by light by retreating down into the chem pit. If strong light (a lantern or torch will work fine) on it directly, or if you splash it with Holy Water, it takes d8 damage, and will flee from you.

This is the mind of the corpse above. It was supposed to journey down into the centre of the earth after death but its fear of the unknown stopped it from descending millennia ago. It is now quite insane, and usually barely conscious, but interlopers in the tomb above will rouse it. With a body of its own it will be able to descend in confidence. It is terrified of the Fruiting Corpse - it knows that corpse is its body, but it also feels the new mind inside, which it senses is a bad copy of itself, and fears as you would fear a Twin Peaks doppelgänger. 

If the players can kill the Fruiting Corpse, they can offer its body to the Shadow, who will possess it and use it to descend into the earth. If one of the players is possessed instead, the Shadow will try to crawl them down into the pit forever. It doesn't mind breaking a few limbs/ribs/skulls to squeeze them through. 








Monday, 21 April 2025

People of the Ice


In the far, far south, beyond the steppe and into the frozen dead archipelago, there are stunted, white-furred giants who live on seals, and on human meat when they can find it.

They are called the Ice People, or the Giants of the South, and the nomads think that they are cursed humans (because they are intelligent, violent, and vaguely anthropomorphic). They are strong enough to open up an armoured man with a single swipe of their terrible black claws. They have the minds of beasts - no language, no tools, no shelters, highly territorial, easily spooked, easily enraged.

The nomads hunt them sometimes, but more often an encounter on the ice means death.

Over time, hundreds of years if the nomad smiths speak truth, the giants grow strange and horrible. They become larger, stronger, faster, more intelligent. Their necks elongate obscenely, and when they wail it is with the screaming voices of those they have killed. 


Ice Person

HD6, terrible black claws (d8), bite (d8), armour as leather, speed 2x human, disposition: territorial, violent, persistent, belligerent.

An Ice Person can roar once per combat, causing d6 fear damage to all who can hear it, or d10 fear damage to those currently engaged in melee with it. 


Ice Person Revenant 

As above but HD 9. In addition:
  • Cruelty: any physical damage taken from the Revenant is also taken as fear damage. 
  • Eater of all Kindness: the bite attack of the revenant is of a special type; it will always damage its target regardless of resistances, and will additionally count as the damage type the target is vulnerable to, if any. Those eaten alive by the revenant are erased from history - none remember them, and the minds of their friends and loved ones fabulate to fill the gaps. You can hear them crying piteously inside the long, long neck of the thing. If you slay a revenant and cut open its throat, the memories of those it has eaten fly out into the wind and are restored to their proper places. The slaying of a revenant is always a traumatic event for the nomads who live nearby, who will often mourn fifteen or more sons, wives, mothers, or close friends at once; people they had collectively forgotten existed. 








Brain Ghosts


Everyone should watch Buñuel's The Exterminating Angel.


A Brain Ghost is a strange thing, and not well understood. The appear to be the remnants of psychic trauma, which cohere into patterns and loops. How and why they form are unknown, but hey are not actually spirits and have no true relationship to the traumas that they replay. There is a whole horror genre of (usually awful, but occasionally excellent) novels and plays based around Brain Ghosts, and Baronial children love to scare one another with games that simulate their violent, looping demands.

A Brain Ghost is usually invisible and intangible, but if you can see it it looks like a softly undulating knot of disturbance in the air, about the size of... a human brain...


Brain Ghost

HD0 (1hp), no attacks, mental replay, patterning, unarmoured, incorporeal, speed: immobile and hovering, disposition: mindless. Mental Replay: write a simple script for two to four actors, one scene, mostly action, minimal dialogue. Everyone in the same room as a Brain Ghost must save CHAR each minute or act out the script with anyone else present. Their part is chosen at random. Different people can play the same part. Brain Ghost scripts are often, but not always, violent. If the script is ever played out perfectly, uninterrupted, with any violence in the script actually being inflicted, then the Brain Ghost is dispelled. Patterning: Every time you take part in the script, you take d3 psychic damage. If you play the same roll more than once, you must test CHAR for each time past the first. Each failure gives you, in order:
  • The name of the original participant in the drama.
  • The personality of the original participant in the drama.
  • The memories of the original participant in the drama.
Incorporeal: A Brain Ghost is invisible, and immune to all physical attacks.







Sunday, 20 April 2025

GLOG Class: Nomad Errant


The original Barony class document included a Barbarian, which I thought was a fun twist on dnd norms - it was modelled after a steppe nomad horse archer, and not a frothing berserk. Months have passed, and the scope of the setting has increased considerably.

Yesterday I did a long write up on the steppe nomad kingdoms south of the Barony - their culture, their strange and impossible weapons, their alliances with the dreamlands and the star people. Part of that write up was a discussion of chivalric errantry, as practiced by these riders and herders.

An Errant is usually a young nomad warrior, rich enough to be properly armed and supplied, and sent out into the world to pursue wisdom, self-knowledge, skill at arms, and resourcefulness. They tell one another stories of the great adventures of past Errants, and all dream of meeting their fated glory in one way or another. They are taught to value goodness and beauty, and also that the protection of these things must be done with violence. They are, without exception, superlative riders, and also sometimes painters and poets of passing skill. They usually wear the heraldry of their family, kingship, and the strange sigil of the star person who they pray to, and who supplied them with their arms.


NOMAD ERRANT


Starting Skills: Animal Husbandry, and one of Poetry, Painting, Smithing, or Astronomy

Starting Gear: a good horse, a medium slashing sabre, a light slashing belt knife, medium armour, a shield, a composite bow with 20 pieces of ammunition. The flags of your household, kingdom, and star patron, tied about you like a cape. Whalebone goggles to protect your eyes from the glare of the southern sun. 

In addition, you are the owner of one of the rare and deadly star weapons. Roll one up using this table, and name it - your title while questing is 'The Youth Whose Arms are x', where x is the name you choose. 


A - Horse Riding, Bow Mastery, Animal Rapport
B - +1 HP, Paragon/Infamy
C - Infinite Night
D - +1 HP, Voided Fate


Horse Riding: You ride in a way that is not like those in the settled societies. You can ride without saddle, reins, or bridle. You can use two handed weapons on horseback, and suffer no penalty for doing so. These skills will be noticed and remarked on by any who see them. 

Bow Mastery: If you are using a bow that you have experience with, you roll with +1 to hit and +1 damage. Your critical range also increases by one when using this weapon, and this effect stacks with any other similar effects. If you lose your bow, it will take you one month of regularly using a new one to regain these effects. The composite bow that comes with your A template starts with these effects active.


Animal Rapport: Animals that are capable of domestication have an instinctive rapport with you. Dogs, cats, horses, cattle, swine; all of these can understand you in a limited, non-verbal way, and will generally follow your instructions if you are kind to them and don’t abuse their trust. Even a trained war hound will hesitate to attack you. You can soothe frightened animals. These skills would make you a valuable employee for someone who deals in livestock, but they have no effect on truly wild animals.


Paragon: Your deeds are becoming known, and your reputation precedes you. You receive +1 to reaction rolls in settled places, and +2 to those who share or admire your chivalric values. Everyone will assume that you never lie, that you never harm innocents, and that your promises will be kept. If any of these tenets are broken in a way that becomes public, switch this template to Infamy


Infamy: You are renowned as a liar, a thug, and an opportunist. You lose all bonuses to reaction rolls, but enemies facing you will check morale at -1. Anyone who has heard of you will assume that your word is worthless, and that your impulses are self-interested (remember that this is how people think of most adventurers). If you do something high-profile to demonstrate your worthiness you might flip this template back to Paragon, but it is harder to regain a reputation than it is to lose it. 


Infinite Night: You can speak the Language of the Stars, completely intuitively. You know in your soul that speaking directly with your star patron is a really bad idea. You grow detached and lucid around the workings of your own mind. All psychic and fear damage against you is halved (minimum of 1), and you may choose to use your INT instead of your WIS or CHAR on any relevant check at cost of 1hp. When you do this you scream loudly, or leak blood from the eyes, your choice. 


Voided Fate: You do not come from here. Your histories of the world are other. You can choose to become nearly invisible to entities of all sorts (they must make a difficult check in order to perceive you), and are completely erased from the plans and schemes of gods, angels, and demons. 






Like so.





Saturday, 19 April 2025

The Nomad Kingdoms


South of the Barony is a vast steppe country, inhabited by a culture of nomad riders who herd horses, dogs, and cattle. They live and travel in extended family clans, but each clan owes allegiance to one of the two great kingships, and can be called up in times of war or mass migration. The nomad kingdoms are militarily powerful and historically dangerous enemies to the settled townships and fortresses along the southern Baronial borders, but both of them are currently on good terms with the Baroness - trade flows between the territories, and travel across the borders is commonplace. 

Nomads are a minor curiosity in the capital and the petty kingdoms, where they find work as mercenaries, smiths, or specialists in livestock. On the steppe, enterprising Baronials might be engaged by a rich clan to teach geometry, theatre, theology, or siegecraft, or hired on as heavy infantry, shock troops, and line-breakers if the nomads find themselves in need. 

There are three things that everyone knows about the nomad kingships: that they are the best metal-smiths in the world; that their young men and women practice chivalric errantry, and travel the world pursuing adventure and the getting of wisdom; and that these errants (and celebrated clan champions back home) carry strange and impossible weapons, which the nomads claim are gifts from benevolent, sentient stars.



Star Weapons

These weapons are, naturally, what the nomads are most famous for. No two are exactly alike, but all have an otherworldly appearance. They are built from a light, hard, white-coloured metal that the nomads mine and smelt from fallen asteroids. They are mostly firearms and fire or chemical projectors, but they are built with such skill and minute mechanical precision that they bear no resemblance at all to the crude muskets and pistols of the White City and Barony. Each weapon has its own particular qualities; famous star weapons include rifles that collapse down into a cube the size of a fist, pistols that make no sound when fired, or ray projecting and lensing mechanisms that cause the skin to char and blacken.

There is an absolute cultural monopoly on the manufacture of these weapons. They are never traded to outsiders under any circumstances, and the nomad smiths store the practical and mechanical processes and trade secrets in fortresses and monasteries in the dreamlands and have no access to them during waking life. When they need to make a new star weapon, a smith will enter into a special trance so that their mind can travel in dream and their body can work the sky metal in the waking world. When they wake, holding their creation (or a piece of a mechanism that will one day sit inside it; star weapons often take months and years to build), it is with no memory of how the thing was done.

Ammunition must similarly be manufactured by the dreaming smiths, and the mechanisms and firing principles are complex enough that they cannot be reverse engineered. Both the Barony and the White City have, over the centuries, spent mountains of blood and treasure trying to decode the secrets of the star smiths - both with captured weapons in the real world, and heists, spy missions, and assaults on the dreamland fortresses. To this day, none of these missions have been successful.

Your star weapon is a:
  1. Rifle (as musket, but with doubled range)
  2. Handgun (as pistol, but with doubled range)
  3. Shotgun (as blunderbuss, but with doubled range)
  4. Anti-Materiel Weapon (henceforth AMW, as Musket but 2d10, to-hit rolls of 1 will deal 1 bludgeoning damage to the firer, 2 inventory slots)
  5. Projector
  6. Suit of Armour

Rifles, Handguns, Shotguns, and AMWs start with 10+d10 rounds of ammunition, which have been sealed into the body of the gun and do not need to be reloaded. You cannot usually see how many shots are remaining, but on some weapons (1 in 6) a small indicator counts down the shots in the Language of the Stars. Once emptied, the weapon will need the attention of a nomad smith to be reloaded. 

Star weapons make just as much smoke as regular firearms, and firing them will always prompt a roll on the encounter table. Unlike most human manufactured firearms, star weapons portend nothing about the common destiny of humanity or Law; their provenance is elsewhere. 

Rifles, Pistols, Shotguns, and AMWs additionally roll twice on the following table (reroll doubles):
  1. Repeating. Can be fired up to three times per attack action, with a -1 to hit per shot already taken that turn. 
  2. Collapsable. Can be folded down to 1/3 of an inventory slot, or unfolded to its useable size, in an action. A handgun can be folded down to the size of a ring or bracelet, and some are designed to be worn as such. All weapons folded down this way cease to resemble weapons. 
  3. Silenced. Makes a soft thwwppp sound when fired. The weapon does not prompt a wandering monster check when fired, and the noise won't draw attention when used. 
  4. Sighted. If the firer does not move this turn, the star weapon rolls to hit at +1. If they spend a whole turn aiming with it, and don't move on their next turn, then it receives +4 to hit and a +1 expanded crit range that turn. In addition, while aiming, you gain one of darkvision, infravision, or trueseeing (even chances), and can make use of this at any time by looking down the sights.
  5. Illuminator. The weapon has a built in lantern, which cannot be extinguished by any means. You may choose to hood or reveal the light source (which is typically, but not always, located under the barrel) as a free action. Choose a colour for your lantern. 
  6. Shrieking. The rounds shriek and whine as they spit forth. Those wounded by this weapon must test morale, and entities will take d3 psychic damage. 
  7. Barrel Attachment. Even chances of a bayonet (as spear but does d4slashing + d4 electrical damage), or a harpoon (range as pistol, d6 damage + d4 electrical, attaches target to the weapon with a steel wire, can be laboriously reeled in and reset outside of combat).
  8. Razoring. Bullets expand into tiny 'flowers' of concertina wire inside the target. Crits deal triple damage instead of double, and if an enemy is killed by a crit, all other enemies in the combat must test morale. 
  9. Hating. The weapon allows you to spend hp before you fire, to a maximum of 10. Each point spent this way gives you +1 to hit, and imbues the round with +1 psychic damage. You scream loudly as it happens. 
  10. Vile. The weapon is embossed with bitter, hateful, horrifying curses against all sentient life, written in the Language of the Stars. Those that it hits lose d2 WIS permanently, as their memories and convictions fly from them. All beings of Law and Chaos take an additional d3 psychic damage. Every shot drains you of 1 hp. 


Projectors

Projectors are either Fire Hurlers, Chemical Sprayers, or Weirdlight Projectors. Roll with even chances of each when determining the basic type. 


Fire Hurler

A Fire Hurler activates with a loud WHUMP, and sprays an arcing gout of burning petroleum over its target. Specify a target within 40ft, and roll to hit. On a hit, the target take d8 fire damage; on a miss they take 1 fire damage. In both cases they are also set alight. All creatures within 10ft of the target must save DEX or likewise be set alight. Creatures who are set alight take 1d6 fire damage at the start of their turn, until they spend an entire turn doing nothing but extinguish themselves. If not extinguished by someone else, the flames will last d3+1 turns.

As with the firearms listed above, a Fire Hurler has its fuel source integrated, and cannot be reloaded without the attention of a smith. By default, it will have d10+5 shots remaining. As with firearms, there is a 1 in 6 chance that the weapon has a Star Language shot-counter built into it.

In addition, roll once on the following table:
  1. Backpack. Your weapon includes an integrated fuel store. It gains +20 shots, and takes up 2 inventory slots. 
  2. Lance. Your weapon includes a fire selector, and can be set to project a short-ranged cutting beam of heat, instead of a wider flaming spray. You may choose which mode to fire in whenever you take a shot. The cutting beam has the following profile: range 20ft, 2d6 fire damage, sets target alight on a hit, no area effects and no effect on a miss.
  3. Compact. Your projector is miniaturised, and occupies only 1/3 of an inventory space. It can be fired one-handed, like a pistol, including in melee. 
  4. Underslung. Your weapon includes a built-in firearm beneath the barrel, either a rifle, shotgun, or AMW. It contains d6+4 shots, and makes a single roll for an additional trait on the firearm table. You may choose which weapon to fire each time you attack. 
  5. Methanol. The flames are invisible. Fires as normal, but DEX saves to avoid being set alight always fail. No light is emitted. Taking damage from invisible fire prompts a morale check. You are practised in the use of your weapon, but on a critical fail to hit you take 1 fire damage from invisible fuel that you failed to account for. 
  6. Mind Splinter. Emits a high pitched buzzing sound when fired, which inflicts everyone who can hear it with -4 WIS until the end of the turn. The second time this happens, the -4 persists for an hour. The third time, this is 24 hours. Those afflicted always fail any test to determine differentiating between friend and foe. 
  7. Reanimator. Any living thing slain while set alight is reanimated until the fires are extinguished. They keep their physical stats, but attack the closest living target with a blind, unreasoning hatred. The reanimated bodies cannot be killed, but they can be dismembered and otherwise rendered useless, as in the rules for zombies. If they have a throat and mouth they will scream hate-poetry in the Language of the Stars. 
  8. Real-Light. The light given off by these flames dispels all illusions and seemings, as truevision. Shapeshifters will revert to their true forms beneath it. Entities take a single point of psychic damage per turn that they are exposed to this light.
  9. Sleeper. The fumes from your weapon are sweet-smelling and powerfully soporific. Those set alight by your weapon must save CON or be rendered immediately unconscious for the duration of the burning.
  10. Solar. Your weapon contains a single shot, but this shot can be recharged by leaving it exposed to bright sunshine for one hour. The flames are a dark, angry red, and the damage type changes to radiation, which counts as fire to living creatures and psychic for entities. 


Chemical Sprayer

A Chemical Sprayer fires similarly to a Fire Hurler, but with a bespoke (usually toxic, liquid) payload. They are some of the most feared and hated star weapons, and many errants who are gifted chemical sprayers refuse to use them on human foes. 

Specify a target within 40ft, and roll to hit. On a hit, they are affected by the payload; on a miss, the target may save DEX to avoid this. All creatures within 10ft must save DEX or be affected. Every payload has its own effects; these are detailed below. 

As with the firearms listed above, a Chemical Sprayer has its ammunition source integrated, and cannot be reloaded without the attention of a smith. By default, it will have d10+5 shots remaining. As with firearms, there is a 1 in 6 chance that the weapon has a Star Language shot-counter built into it.
  1. Acid. Take d4 acid damage, and another d4 per turn for three turns thereafter. Each piece of armour you remove can mitigate a single turn of damage; this must be a piece of armour that grants mechanical bonuses to your AC, and if you remove it like this it is assumed to be ruined by the acid. Remember that not all armour can be immediately discarded. 
  2. Glue. A target hit by this payload cannot move or defend themselves until they break free of it. This requires a STR save. Even after they have broken free, their attacks will be at -2 and their AC is reduced by 2 for the remainder of the combat. This malus stacks if reapplied.
  3. Seasoning. This payload does a single point of damage to its target. It then soaks into their skin, and makes them delicious to the horrible things that live amongst the stars. For the rest of their lives they will take double damage from fire, psychic, and radiation damage. If you are that way inclined, their corpse will provide four times the rations that it usually would, and will not trigger any supernatural, spiritual, or religious taboos against cannibalism, as the meat of the body has been claimed by other things. Earthly courts and churches probably won't see your position on this. 
  4. Hallucinogens. After being hit by this payload, a target must test WIS each turn to act rationally for the remainder of the combat. On a failure, the DM will determine the most appropriate action; they may attack whoever is closest to them, run in terror in a random direction, curl into a ball, etc. The effects of the payload last for 20-CON hours, but outside of combat they are markedly less violent and terrifying. 
  5. Bloody. This weapon has only a single shot, but it can be reloaded by inserting a flexible hose tipped with a sharp spine into a human corpse. The draining process takes about an hour. Something happens to the blood inside the weapon - when it sprays out again it does d10 boiling poison damage to those affected. Most humans will need to check morale if exposed to this weapon. 
  6. Boiling Water Cutter. Fires like a rifle instead of a chemical sprayer. Deals 2d12 cutting damage within 10ft, d12 damage between 10 and 30 ft, and d4 damage after that. If you critically miss with it, you take d2 cutting damage. 
  7. Protein Destabiliser. Those affected take no immediate damage, but suffer 1 damage per hour for 2d20 hours, as their skin sloughs away from their bones. The only cure to this is an antidote pill that is contained in a small compartment in the bodywork of the weapon. You have 5 antidote pills. 
  8. Pain Enhancer. Those affected take double damage from all sources, and fail morale checks automatically. 
  9. Scrambler. Those affected take 1 damage, and make a CON save. On a failure, the target loses the ability to read, write, or speak for one hour. Entities of all kinds will flatly refuse to associate with them. At the end of the hour, make another CON save. On a failure, the effects are permanent. 
  10. Anathema. A borrowed weapon of time warfare and extermination. Those affected take d4 damage and are exposed to the Anathema. Angels and demons will flee the bearer of this weapon in abject terror. 


Weirdlight Projector

A Projector is a rare and sought-after star weapon. They look something like a bulky rifle built around a large, hooded lantern, with a series of lenses making up the 'barrel'. When unveiled, an invisible 'light' projects outwards, burning and charring everything that it falls on. They are unique in that they don't usually use ammunition, or need reloading - most Projectors simply function forever.

By default, a user my choose to hood or unhood their weapon as a free action (this is what the trigger mechanism does). Trace a 90 degree cone in front of the user, like a Beholder's antimagic cone. Every biological or sentient target within the cone takes a single point of radiation damage (radiation damage counts as psychic damage to entities). The user may place the cone on whatever facing they wish during their turn, and you cannot specify which target you want to take damage and which you don't. When an arc of light is set down, it remains in place until the firer's next turn.

In addition, roll on the table below.

Projector
  1. Pluton's Seeming of Truth. Those who fall under this weapon's light cannot tell a lie. Green, sickly, very bright. 
  2. Truth of Mars. Those who fall under this weapon's light cannot read, write, or speak. Deep scarlet red, with blue-black shadows. 
  3. Geryon's Starlight. All those beneath the light of this weapon have the same face, and distinction between them is impossible. If you wish to target one for any reason, you must randomise the target, even when this does not make logical sense - ie when you know that your enemy is standing at the window and your ally at the door. You still need to randomise. This also works with scrying and other targeted magic, and with the effects of curses. The face is a strange, composite, beautiful thing, and it wears a completely neutral expression. The light is silvery and weirdly shifting. 
  4. Arcturian Twinlight. All those exposed to this light take double damage from all other sources. In addition, they automatically succeed in all morale checks, fights to the death, and act with integrity and compassion, even in the heat of combat. They will not hesitate to kill you if you are trying to kill them, but they will not be cruel or vengeful about it. These traits are lost when the light no longer shines on them. Vividly clashing uncolours that maze the brain.
  5. Masque Light. A fire-selector switches the lensing between the different colours of the visible spectrum. The light does d4 damage instead of 1 damage, but only to specific targets, as chosen with the selector. Red for humans, orange for beasts, yellow for beings of Law, green for beings of Chaos, blue for all entities, indigo for creatures of dream, violet for begins from the future. A final setting, black light, deal enhanced damage to all targets, but gives the firer 1 fatigue for each turn that it is used.
  6. Constellation of the Wounder. This projector fires in a narrow beam, not a broad cone. It attacks as a rifle+2 and deals d8 radiation damage + radiation damage equal to the targets max hp less their current hp. If a PC needs to roll on the death and dismemberment table as a result of damage from this weapon, they roll three times and take the worst result (this overrides special rules from templates). NPCs slain by this weapon scream in agony and come to pieces in fountains of gore - most humans witnessing this will need to check morale. The beam is white and cold, like an LED spotlight. 
  7. Light of Semelian Candour. This projector deals no damage, and holds three charges. Each charge used heals 1hp and 1 fatigue per turn to everyone who falls under it (it fires in a cone, just like a normal projector). Each charge spent will naturally recharge over 24 hours. The weapon has an attached bayonet, which attacks as a spear that deals d4 slashing + d4 electric. The light is the colour of a sunset or sunrise - the poets differ. 
  8. Gulf of Reason. Those who fall under the light of this weapon have their movement halved. The wielder may permanently spend a point of WIS to deal d6 radiation damage to those caught in the cone. When they do this they have a 1 in 2 chance of permanently gaining a point of INT. The light is blue and silver with oddly flexible shadows, like midnight in you family home, when everyone is sleeping and everything is wrong. 
  9. Saturn's Unmaking by Chronos. All those beneath this light take all damage inflicted on all others beneath the light. Harsh black and white, like a coal mine and its miners illumined under flaring arclights. 
  10. The Vivisector. All damage dealt by those caught beneath this light is mirrored on their own bodies. Warm, yellow-gold, constant, calm like firelight, with red shadows and terrible red highlights. 


Armour

Sometimes a star 'weapon' is actually a suit of star metal armour. These are baroque, insectile things, and the specificities follow no standardised plan, but they uniformly provide excellent physical protection and augment the user's strength. The white, reflective, strangely hinged and jointed suits of armour are immediately recognisable, and highly sought after. Many errants are killed on the highway for such valuable harness. 

At base, star armour counts as plate+1, gives its user +1 STR, and imposes no penalty on stealth checks. In addition, roll twice on the following table (reroll doubles):
  1. Visored. The helmet incorporates one of the following while it is worn, with even chances of each: darkvisioninfravision, or trueseeing. When the user is making use of this (there is a switch at the right temple), the mirrored eye protection glows brightly. 
  2. Sustaining. The wearer no longer needs to eat or sleep. Their metabolism is frozen. Long, flexible needle spines work their way into the flesh and bone of the suit's user, and it cannot be removed without killing them.
  3. Powered. The suit provides 10 additional inventory slots, and the STR bonus is +4 instead of +1. Powered armour is very often built in the likeness of a flensed human body. Movement speed and jumping distance are tripled.
  4. Claws. Integrated weapons that deal d4 slashing + d4 electrical damage, and that count as dual wielded. Can be retracted and will not be found if searched for weapons.
  5. Camouflage. The surface of the plates shifts and changes beneath the vision. Missile attacks are at -4 to hit the wearer, and the wearer gains +4 to any stealth checks where visual camouflage would reasonably make a difference. 
  6. Assault. Plate +2, explosions and fire deal half damage to the wearer. In addition, they cannot be moved against their will. 
  7. Death Projector. Helmet incorporates a large black cavity where the face should be. The wearer gains a gaze attack which forces its target to make a WIS save or be paralysed for the remainder of the combat. 
  8. Puppetry. The gauntlets incorporate a spool of strong steel wire that terminates in a vicious barbed hook. If this hook is inserted into the brain or spine of a human, then the wearer can 'puppet' that body as though it was their own. The wearers senses go into the second body for the duration, so they are quite vulnerable during this process. Having a hook inserted into your brain will kill most people, and the puppetry ability works on corpses. The wire extends out to a length of 50ft. A wearer with fighter templates can attempt to insert the hook in combat; treat it as an improvised weapon that has a -4 to hit (it's hard to target the spine or brain in the heat of mortal struggle!).
  9. Pain Inhibitors. The wearer no longer feels pain, with all that this entails. In practical terms, they take half damage from physical sources, and no longer go into shock or worry much about things like broken limbs. They roll on the death and dismemberment table with disadvantage (this cancels out with any template ability that would cause them to instead roll with advantage). 
  10. Null Zone. The armour generates a psychic field of mania and paranoia. Everyone within 20ft suffers from -4 WIS, including the wearer. The wearer gains +2 INT and +2 CHAR. They also hover 4 inches or so off the ground at all times (no change to speed). If the wearer does nothing by concentrate for a full turn, they can inflict d6 psychic damage on any sentient being that they can see, at the cost of taking a single point of psychic damage themselves. This works by willing the target into contact with the star people who are always there, folded away into corners that we cannot perceive - something like a toothed limb unfolds in the brain and blood pours from the eyes, nose and mouth. The helmet of this suit will be made in the likeness of an expressionless, beautiful, composite human face. 


The Smiths and the Fortresses of Dream

The star smiths are a class of hereditary nobility within the nomad culture, alongside their kings and rider-captains. Their status is something like a priestly caste, but the nomads are atheists and do not believe in gods, heavens, or hells. They believe in the star people, because they talk with the star people all the time, and because the star people send them metallic meteors, and share strange and visionary wisdom.

As briefly mentioned above, the smiths keep this secret knowledge safe in heavily-defended dream fortresses. Long ago the nomads entered into treaties of alliance with the Prince of Dreaming, and they have enjoyed privileged status in that realm ever since. Nomads do not suffer nightmares in the Dreamlands, nor are they attacked on sight by orcs, goblins, or bugbears. When they call on the military aid of the Prince, it is given freely and gladly. It is not known what the nomads offer to the Prince in return for his friendship and largesse.

The fortresses are typically built at the edges of the Dreamlands proper, on spurs and isolated islands of stable land that jut upwards from the burning matter of the Blazing World. They are manned by dependable, skilled dog soldiers, who are, in the waking world, the dogs that the nomads treat as clan members, exactly as they do humans. Dogs assume a human form in dream, and have enormous fun 'pretending' to be human warriors. They don shining armour, carry glittering swords, and do as they think guards ought to do - they will often say things like 'Halt! State your business!' or 'What ho, traveller!', and they will play cards, drink ale, and eat read meat. They are also very fierce fighters, and perfectly willing to defend the castles of their smith-lieges to the death. Many are the tales of Baronial dream-spies being torn to shreds in the teeth of cheerful, flint-eyed dog soldiers.

The guard dogs are often accompanied by cat-consultants from the cities. Nomads do not usually keep cats, and treat them with some suspicion, but they make excellent advisors on the honourless tactics and other perfidy of the settled peoples. A dreaming cat consultant will usually engage in battle as an adjunct to the dog officers. Cats have also been close with the Prince of Dreaming since time immemorial, and form the diplomatic corps between the two nations.

Finally, the fortresses employ dreaming foxes as menial staff, scribes, and functionaries. Since these roles have no real function in the dreamlands (a functionary in dream is a pedlar of nonsense and whimsy), the true role of the foxes is the formation of a flexible and dangerous corps of assassins, skirmishers, irregulars, and informants. Never trust a dreaming fox.

At the centre of each fortress lies the central vault, and this is what the smiths descend into when they work their strange arts in the waking world. The 'vault' generally looks like a deep well in the bowels of the fortress, that drops down into an inky blackness, starless, but somehow resonant of the gulfs of blackness in the night sky. None but the smiths are allowed entry into these chambers, and none know how the contact with the star people is established.


Dreaming Dog Soldier
HD1+1, glittering sword (d6), armour as plate and shield, speed as human, disposition: avuncular, friendly, carnivorous, pedantic. 

A dog soldier can smell when you lie. 


Dreaming Cat Consultant
HD1+1, fine rapier (d6), pistol (2d6), light armour that looks expensive, speed as human, disposition: calculating, dead-eyed, quixotic, murderous. 

Cat Consultants move completely silently, never take fall damage, never test for balancing, leap twice the usual distance, and cannot be surprised. 


Dreaming Fox Functionary 
HD1, shortsword (d6), garrotte, throwing knives (d6), leather armour, human-face mask, speed as human, disposition: tricky.

A Fox Functionary will survive a blow that would otherwise kill it on a 1 in 2 chance. It can only do this once. 

A garrotte can only be used from ambush or in a grapple. It rolls to hit at -2, but if it hits it deals d6 choking damage, and in addition the wielder automatically grapples the target. The enemy can do nothing on their turn but attempt to break the grapple, and if they fail they take an additional d6 choking damage. 



Errants and the Codes of Chivalry

The Barony does not have a knightly culture. They have inherited a cultural appreciation for pragmatics, which originated in the White City, and which makes its chief virtue the understanding of when it is appropriate to spend resources, and in what quantities. I'll do a longer post about it another time, but basically a 'good' noble or power player in the Barony knows when it is 'correct' to wage a total war, and when it is 'correct' to wage a limited war, and the ethical codes have grown up around these considerations. You manage cruelty, you manage mercy and magnanimity, you manage optics, you manage people.

The nomads do have a chivalric culture. Where the Baronials largely use to the bravo gangs to mitigate the worst excesses of their teenage sociopathy, the nomads send their youth out into the world with a strictly developed and rigidly enforced set of principles to live by. There are many codes (and most families will have their own chivalric charter that they expect their errants to abide by), but by and large the strictures are: do good and just things where you can, act decisively and with wisdom, and come to know yourself in doing so. This last one is the most important. If you never know yourself, you will never be able to properly raise children or deal with marriage, so the idea is that you take as long as you need out in the world to come to this self knowledge. Some errants never do, and many die in the attempt.

Wealthy errants will be given a star weapon by the smiths, to aid them on their travels. These fortunate few are the nomad equivalent of questing knights, and are universally known by the honorific 'The Youth Whose Arms are x', where x is the name of their star weapon. Star weapons are named by the smith with long lines of poetry (I use Rilke), but knight errants will make up their own names as well.

Knights Errant usually wear three flags as capes or drapes across their shoulders. The first is of their kingship, the second of their family clan, and the third of the star person who has gifted them their arms. 

Errants travel far and wide as adventurers, mercenaries, and drifters. Nomads cultivate a strong sense of melancholic romance and a desire for autonomy and freedom in their young people, and the stereotypical nomad errant is young, horny, impetuous, hungry for glory, plagued by black depressions, and often a dedicated poet or painter (this last of extremely varying quality). To the Baronials they are charmingly odd, and the bravos and poets are known to get along famously with these self-serious and intense foreigners. 

After many years of travel and adventure, most errants make their way back to their homes, where they will take on the responsibilities of adulthood: trade, governance, animal husbandry, the raising of a family, and the pursuit of political marriages (both men and women can marry more than once).

Those that never readjust instead become unmarried clan champions; they are often armed with star armour and many different star weapons, and are truly frightening opponents on the battlefield.








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