So at your local wizarding school ...

Following a thread on the official GURPS forum on altering GURPS Magic to fit a setting of a magic school, I present these spells for the edification of anyone doing likewise.  Aside from Lend Energy – the first spell any magician learns – new apprentices in my setting are taught simple spells.  Many are useful, but in a number of cases, they are imparted less to advance apprentices through their studies than to give them easy, showy spells to slake their appetites for magic ... and to steer them away from more dangerous ones.  

All of the below spells are without prerequisite, many are Mental/Average (the exceptions are noted), and all M/A spells – following the excellent GURPS product The Least of Spells – may be learned and cast by those with minimal Magery.  I’ll tag the ones I definitely know I did create with a (*), the rest being ganked from sources all over.


ALERT             Information (Knowledge college, M/H)

The caster knows when a specific event has occurred in a particular place.   The caster must specify the event when he casts the spell.  Long distance modifiers apply for time and distance.

Duration: 1 hour.
Cost: 3, 2 to maintain.

ANIMATE REFLECTION     Regular, resisted by IQ (Illusion college)

The subject’s reflection in any reflective surface moves as the caster wishes, and appears to be moving independently.  The reflection can do anything that the original subject is able to do.  Likewise, the reflection can use body parts, or objects that the subject is carrying, that aren’t reflected when the spell is cast.  For example, the image could appear to bring its hands to its face even if only the subject’s head is reflected. It can also appear to partially move out of the reflected area, or vanish entirely.  Objects or states of being that aren’t present on the subject’s body when the spell is cast can’t be created in the reflection.

Duration: 10 minutes.
Cost: 1, 1 to maintain.

BASKETWORK         Regular (Plant college, (*))

Instantly weaves grass, thin branches, withies and the like into a basket or other item of wickerwork, appropriate to the raw materials available, at a skill of Basketweaving-12 or the caster’s Basketweaving skill+3, whichever is higher.  At double the cost, the skill levels are at -15 or +6, respectively.

Duration: Permanent.
Cost: 2 per 5 lbs of materials to be shaped.

COINS OF CHANGE           Regular (Illusion college, M/H, (*))

A single coin of the caster's choice disappears, to be replaced by the monetary equivalent in the next lower denomination.  However, one coin of the lower denomination is missing (as a magical "tip," if you will).  The new coins will be of the proper bullion, weight and minting, indistinguishable from other such coins minted by the originating nation in the given year, were it not for the newness and lack of wear.  Cast on a coin of the smallest denomination, it disappears, and is replaced by something peculiar and/or worthless.

Duration: Permanent.
Cost: 2.

COMFORT             Regular (Mind Control college, M/H)

The subject feels warm, dry, and uncramped – even if he isn't in reality – and gets +3 to HT and Will rolls to resist the psychological effects of warm or cold weather or the uncomfortable effects of cramped spaces.  Negative effects still affect the body, and will manifest when unusual exertion is attempted.

Duration: 1 hour.
Cost: 2, 1 to maintain.

CONCENTRATE         Regular (Mind Control college, M/H)

Allows the subject to concentrate on a specific task, ignoring all distractions, gaining a bonus to Will rolls to ignore distractions that might disrupt concentration or spoil spells, including pain, heat, cold or damage.

Duration: 1 minute.
Cost: 1, +1 per +1 bonus to Will rolls, same to maintain.

CREATE TEAPOT         Regular (Food college, (*))

A silvery-violet teapot will appear (and float) in midair. The caster may put any kind of tea and sweetener inside the pot; it requires no water or strainer.  The pot will brew away, producing 1 quart, appropriately sweetened.  If no tea is placed into the pot, it will brew a basic unsweetened pekoe.  The pot will pour itself, at the caster's command.  

Variants have been known to brew cocoa -- or other non-alcoholic hot drinks common to the culture, such as rooibos, maté or tisanes -- instead.  (By contrast, no one has succeeded in producing a coffee or alcoholic variant.)  There has been much speculation as to why such a useful spell is so easy to learn and cheap to cast, and it has been popularly attributed to a (probably apocryphal) God of Apprentices.

Duration: 5 minutes.
Cost: 1, same to maintain.  

GEOMETRY         Regular (Movement college, M/H, (*))

The caster may accurately draw or trace any geometric shape that he can imagine.  A writing implement is required, but the caster draws with preternatural speed and accuracy; the result is precise to within a millimeter.

Duration: Permanent.
Cost: 2.
Time to Cast: 1 second to 10 minutes. 1 second for a small, simple symbol up to 10 minutes for a very complex or large design. Simple sigils require 1 second, pentagrams and similar sigils take 5 seconds.

GLOWING EYES         Regular, resisted by IQ (Illusion college)

The subject’s eyes glow with an unnatural light.  Though this doesn’t interfere with the subject’s vision or improve his night vision, it will make him visible in the dark.  This may provoke Fright Checks as well.

Duration: 10 minutes.
Cost: 1, 1 to maintain.

GOSSAMER            Area (Air college, (*))

A fine rain of gossamer web floats down.  While it is visible, it neither impedes vision nor movement.

Duration: 5 minutes.
Base Cost: ⅓, minimum 1. Cannot be maintained.

ICE CUBES             Regular (Water college, (*))

Creates a quart of ice cubes, about a cubic inch apiece.  Falling ice cubes do no damage but might be distracting if dumped on an unsuspecting target.

Duration: Permanent, but melt normally.
Cost: 1.

LIGHT SWITCH         Area, resisted by Will (Light and Darkness college, M/H)

Extinguishes – or lights – all sources of light with a preset spoken or physical command (usually a clap of the hands or a spoken word) specified at the time of casting. The caster can exclude some light sources if specified at casting, and can permit the command to be given by people, or types of people.  Light sources need not have been in the area at the time of casting to be affected.  Sources of flame will continue to burn; they will do so at the slowest possible rate, and produce a low degree of heat.  This will triple the life of a source of flame like a lantern or campfire, but will not work on a large source of flame above a hex in size.  Light sources held or used by unwilling subjects within the area of effect resist with the wielder’s Will.

Duration: 6 hours.
Base Cost: 1, same to maintain.

MIST                 Area (Weather college)

Creates an area of light fog, reducing Vision.

Duration: 1 minute.
Cost: base 1/10 per -1 Vision penalty (-5 maximum), half to maintain.

POKE             Regular, resisted by DX or ST (Air college)

Creates a little rod of concentrated air, which the caster can use to poke with at a distance. It can distract and annoy foes but also has peaceful applications (like pressing buttons, knocking a small candle over or touching objects from a safe distance).  There is no distance penalty, but the target must be in the caster’s line of sight. The subject may resist with DX or ST, whichever is more appropriate. If the resistance is successful, the spell has no effect.

Duration: 1 second.
Cost: 1, can’t be maintained.

PUFF OF BREATH         Regular (Air college, (*))

The target feels a light puff of breath; it will blow out candles reliably, and be noticeable at a range of two yards, but not much else.

Duration: 1 second.
Cost: 1.

RESIST INTOXICATION     Regular, resisted by Will (Body Control, M/H)

Makes the subject immune to the intoxicating effects of drugs or alcohol.

Duration: 1 hour.
Cost: 2, 1 to maintain.

SAINT ELMO'S FIRE     Regular, resisted by HT (Air college, (*)) 

The subject is limned with a phosphorescent glow, causing him to stand out clearly in dim light and creating a spooky effect. Lighting penalties to see the subject are reduced fourfold.

Duration: 1 minute.
Cost: 1, 1 to maintain.

SHOW BUSINESS         Area, resisted by IQ (Illusion college, M/H, (*))

Creates minor special effects suitable for use as a prop for a stage show.  Among possible effects are minor sound effects, flashing lights, loud spectral applause, background Muzak, small puffs of smoke or thin fog.  The special effects created are not powerful enough to distract or fool a determined foe.  At best, they will give a foe -1 to Sense rolls for 1 second.  In this case, the victim is allowed an IQ roll to resist.

Duration: 1 minute.
Cost: base 1, same to maintain.

SIGNAL FLARE        Regular (Light and Darkness college, (*))

A fizzing jet flies straight up from the caster’s finger.  When it reaches an altitude of 400', it bursts into a brilliant flare of colored light (caster’s choice as to hue).  It descends at a rate of 10'/second thereafter, and will wink out 20' from the ground.  While the Flare’s illumination is dim at best, it is visible for miles at night.  The spell does no damage, may not be targeted, and will not fire in any direction but straight up.

Duration: 40 seconds.
Cost: 2.  Cannot be maintained.

SMOKE RINGS         Regular (Air/Fire college)

The caster can make a palm-sized amount of smoke (from a pipe or similar item) change color, form rings or shapes, or move in a certain direction against the prevailing air currents.  The smoke thus controlled is too thin to obscure vision or cause breathing difficulties.  It might give the caster +1 to reaction rolls or Social skills when dealing with people who aren't used to wizards and magic.

Duration: 10 minutes or the duration of one bowl of tobacco, whichever is more.
Cost: 1, same to maintain.

SNOWBALL         Missile (Water college)

Creates a fist-sized snowball that the caster can throw, and has the same range and other characteristics as a thrown rock.  The snowball does no damage.

Duration: 10 seconds, or until three seconds after being thrown, whichever comes first.
Cost: 1.

STITCH             Regular (Movement college, (*))

The subject may sew a row of stitches through cloth, leather or other material, at the rate of 6" per second, as if he possessed the appropriate Leatherworking or Sewing skill (if he does have the skill, this is treated as Skill+4).  The subject can specify the manner of the stitching with an appropriate roll suitable to the intricacies of the stitch.  All appropriate materials to do the job -- i.e., thread and a garment to be sewn; no needle is required -- must be at hand at the time of casting.

Duration: 1 minute.
Cost: 1, 1 to maintain.

TENT             Regular (Illusion college, M/H)

A tent of any size may be created.  The Tent is made of unbleached canvas with plain wood poles, but other than that, it can be of any shape desired, from a simple pup tent to a large pavilion.  The Tent has DR 1, 10 HT.  In other respects, the Tent is normal, though it does not leak.  Variants are known to exist creating fancier or more decorative Tents.

Duration: 1 hour.
Cost: 2, 1 to maintain for a one or two-man tent.  3, 2 to maintain for a tent or pavilion which will sleep up to 6 people in cramped conditions or 2 people in comfort; doubling thereafter for tripling capacity.

WATER BALL        Missile (Water college)

Creates a fist-sized missile of water.  It does no damage, striking with the impact of a water balloon, but can distract targets, put out small fires or do 1d-1 HT damage to flame-based creatures.

Duration: Instant.
Cost: 1.

WERELIGHT        Regular (Light and Darkness college, (*))

Creates a pale green ball of light in the caster’s hand.  The ball will travel with the caster, and remain in his hand, although it is intangible and doesn't interfere with the use of the hand for any other purpose.  It is not bright enough to illuminate beyond 2", but can be seen up to 10-15 hexes at night depending on the lighting conditions.  Closing the hand around the ball will turn the Werelight “off,” while opening the hand again will turn it back “on.”  Alternately, the light can be placed in a stationary spot.

Duration: 1 hour.
Cost: 1, 1 to maintain.
 

Look What I Found! A Cantrip List

This was written up in more or less this format for a website a bunch of years ago.  Some of these spells are ones I created for GURPS in an article over thirty years ago.  Having stumbled across it, I decided to spruce it up and post it anew.  Now if anyone wants the actual GURPS stats as written up for my campaign, feel free to ask!

Chisandra’s Magic Tool: Summons one of the following tools: chisel, axe, crowbar, plane, adze, handaxe, pick, shovel, handsaw, crosscut saw, file, or awl. It is made of steel, and holds a perpetual edge. It will be sized for the caster, and cannot be made larger or smaller. For some reason, the craftsmen who revile the wizard Chisandra for inventing the “Strike Breaker” spell (see below) – as well as others who would use it – have no problem with this spell.  Local blacksmiths, however, have different opinions ...

Chisandra’s Strike Breaker: Named for a enchanter noblewoman whose new mansion was held up by a work stoppage, this causes a standard tool with no moving parts to work independently at the caster’s bidding.  It will only perform actions for which it is designed (for example, however much it’s technically possible, the spell won’t cause a hatchet to work as a screwdriver), as if it were wielded by a human of average strength, with approximately the skill at its task of a trained apprentice of the appropriate craft. To this day, the spell is resented by local craftsmen, and wizards known to employ it are prone to having their windows broken by thrown bricks, their front stoops smeared with excrement, and so on.

Coins of Change: A coin of the caster's choice (and held in his hand) disappears, to be replaced by the monetary equivalent in the next lower denomination. However, one coin of the lower denomination is missing (as a magical "tip," if you will); for instance, a dollar coin would be replaced by three quarters.  If the coin is not easily divisible into the next lower denomination (quarters into dimes, for instance), it is rendered in the denomination below that. The new coins will be of the proper bullion, weight and minting, indistinguishable from other such coins were it not for the newness and lack of wear.  If the spell is cast on a coin of the lowest common denomination, it disappears ... to be replaced by something peculiar and/or worthless.

Denys’ Menacing Orbs: Creates a fistful of “standard” fiberglass marbles that appear in the caster’s hand ... whether or not fiberglass is a substance that exists in the gameworld.

Elaina’s Excellent Teapot: A silvery-violet teapot will appear (and float) in midair. The caster may put any kind of tea and sweetener inside the pot; it requires no water or strainer. The pot will brew away, producing 1 quart, appropriately sweetened. If no tea is placed into the pot, it will brew a basic pekoe. The pot will pour itself, at the caster's command, and vanish either at the caster’s command or when there is no tea left in the pot. Variants exist for cocoa and other hot drinks.

Elaina’s Ball of Fun: Created by the ice wizard Elaina Waflo more as a means to have a handy fistful of snow whenever she wanted one, this places a normal, if large and well packed, snowball in the caster’s hand. The snow itself is permanent, but will melt normally.

Flower Power: Any sort of flowers with which the caster is familiar can be created in a full bouquet. They will be in full bloom. Any part of the bouquet that is disassembled – for instance, processing for herbal or alchemical use – vanishes at once.  The bouquet will last for as long as a mundane cut bunch of fresh flowers would.

Hero Pointer: The most powerful character – in terms of levels, character points, etc. – in the caster’s line of sight is outlined with a visible ruddy glow. The caster can exclude certain people or types of people from the spell’s calculation, and/or make the effect visible to him or her only.

Iamedon’s Keener Edged Armament: Sharpens an edged weapon, tool or implement to have as fine an edge as the object can normally hold; the edge lasts as long as normal use provides.

Kinto’s Beneficial Breathing: The subject's nostrils, ears and mouth become impermeable to water. Normal air breathing is not impeded, but no oxygen is extracted from "breathing" in water – the spell will only keep the subject from drowning.

Lengchi’s Bane: This spell combines ingredients into a blended whole. The ingredients must be normally able to be mixed by hand and be placed in a container, which will be filled by the resulting mixture. The combination takes place in one second. Lengchi was an infamous alchemical researcher working through the periodic table, and who discovered – a bit too late – that alchemically refining a large quantity of pure sodium and combining it with water (to “see what happened”) was not all that sensible an idea.

“Limpy’s” Third Conjuration: Causes an inanimate object to bend in the middle. Regardless of its natural qualities - brittleness, for example - it will bend and not break. If the object makes its appropriate resistance roll, it is slightly warped in some way. Created by the pompous Master Limsenien of the Viridistani College of Mages, it acquired its byname from the put-upon professional apprentice corps of the city – who claimed, inaccurately, that the wizard used this to blight the manhoods of his enemies – and “Limpy” was what the wizard was called behind his back thereafter, so much so that he dropped plans to publish his Fourth and Fifth Conjurations.

Malabar’s Miraculous Assay: The caster can determine the material components of any liquid or solid compound by chemical name, along with the proportion of the components in the compound, within the limits of general chemical knowledge of the caster’s tech level.  However, the caster does not necessarily know the individual properties of the components, nor will he learn what the compound does, absent scholarly knowledge of chemistry or alchemy.

Mirith’s Restful Soak: Creates a magical hot tub, which will materialize on the ground if the terrain is even and there are no intervening objects. It will comfortably seat two people. The temperature may be set between 95 and 120 degrees F, with any desired degree of turbulence. The spell was researched and invented at the request of the then-Emperor of Vinaria, a frequent adventurer who in his later years suffered from arthritis.

Morgil’s Clouded Gaze: The eyes of the subject adjust to any light brighter than normally comfortable, overtoning everything he sees in sepia tones. The spell will not function against light-based magical attacks. Prince Morgil Ravenswing of Gwenethlin was a renowned campaigner, but overly light sensitive, and richly rewarded the (unknown) wizard who invented this spell.

Phoenix’s Fountain of Glory: A fizzing jet flies straight up from the caster’s finger. When it reaches an altitude of 400', it bursts into a brilliant flare of colored light and descends at a rate of 10'/second thereafter. While the flare’s illumination is dim at best, it is visible for miles at night. The spell does no damage, may not be targeted, and will not fire in any direction but straight up. “Phoenix” was the errantry-name of the starlight wizard Sairin Wenairin, who is said to have invented it in the time he campaigned with the Kalínalumbë Regiment.

Puff of Breath: The target feels a light puff of breath; it will blow out candles, and be noticeable, but not much else.

Ratri’s Blessed Shield: Cast on a female, this prevents fertilization of eggs. If cast on a female pregnant within the last week, induces spontaneous abortion. If cast on a male his sperm becomes non-viable. Taught by the priestesses of Ratri, although its use is canonically discouraged.

“Show Business”: Creates any minor special effect that the caster can imagine, suitable for use as a prop for a stage show. Among the possible effects are minor sound effects, flashing lights, mini-fireworks, loud spectral applause, background Muzak, small puffs of smoke or thin fog ... but in any event, it will turn out on the cheesy side. The special effects created with this spell are not powerful enough to distract or fool a determined foe. Several wizards have been accused of inventing the spell in the 33 years it has been known; all hotly deny doing so.

Spider’s Veil: A fine rain of gossamer web floats down. While it is easily visible, it neither impedes vision nor movement.

Verella’s Toy: A small item becomes a recording device, recording any sound generated (or permeating) within 30' of its location. The sound pickup and quality is equivalent to that of a modern-day boom mike and tape player. To activate the Toy, the caster must speak a command word chosen at the time of casting. A second command word stops the recording. A third command word allows the Toy to play back any sounds it has captured. The object will only provide between six and twelve playbacks. Created for Princess Verella Waflo of Vinaria, who as a small child loved the music of the nomadic Waertagi tribe and wanted to hear it still in her quiet home, hundreds of miles from the Waertagi steppe country.

Something Weird!

“Something weird heah!  Get yer weird things!”  I raised an eyebrow.  Street vendors rolled by the Woflo Inn about five hundred damn times a day, screeching like strangled gulls.  I've never cared for cities, and the ones in these human lands are really dire, and I got sick of the racket by the second day.  But it was midsummer, and closing the shutters would’ve choked us with the heat.  This was a new call on me, anyway.

Chav was on her feet and grabbing for her belt pouch like a shot.  “Where are YOU going?” I drawled.

“You GOTTA come see this, Eve!  This guy is great!” And with that, she was right out the door and pelting down the stairs.

“Something weird heah!  Get yer weird things riiiight heah!” 

No one knows his name ... he’s never said.  No one knows anything about him ... he won’t talk.  But every rare once in a while, once or twice a year, he’s pushing his cart down the cobblestones, barking out his sales pitch.

The man’s of average height, dusky complexion, raggedly cut dark brown hair.  His garb is dusty, worn, nondescript homespun, with a faded indigo wool vest.  He always seems to need a shave.  He bears no weapon.

But the tale’s not about him.  It’s about his cart.

It’s a simple pushcart, two handles, two wobbly wheels.  On it is a baffling array of packages, all wrapped up in faded, threadbare canvas and tied with coarse twine.  They are of all shapes, and of many sizes; no two are alike.  For just five silver pennies, you can have one item.

But only one.  On any given trip, he will never sell more than one item to one person.  He’ll hand you your item, and move on, sounding out his call once more.

And then it’s your turn: to figure out just what in the hell you’ve got.

✵   ✵   ✵   ✵   ✵   ✵   ✵   ✵   ✵

What the cart vends is offbeat items.  My own list runs several hundred deep, and are almost all modern-tech items, usually quite mundane.  Examples I’ve given out over the years include rolls of Scotch tape, a modern Alpine backpack, a car antenna, a Bic lighter, a box of plastic army men, a Brillo pad, a tube of Preparation H, a box of tampons, a TV tray, a space blanket, a penlight, a Slinky, an aluminum baseball bat, and a parking meter.

The trick is to identify it without any handles that would quickly reveal it: “You’ve got an odd wooden pole.  It’s about four feet long and an inch square.  It has strange runes on it, unrecognizable to you, painted on the shaft.  At one end is a flat paddle, about a foot long, and breaking off at a 45 degree angle.  The end of the pole is tipped with an odd black substance that’s sticky to the touch and slightly flexible; the paddle is wrapped in the middle with a thin layer of what appears to be the same substance.”  That’s an actual example, and it took the party that had it over a half-hour to figure it out.  (Feel free to put your own guesses in the comments.)

The vendor won’t sell you more than one, and no matter what it is it costs no more than five silver pennies.  He won’t give you any clue what anything is, and is blandly incurious.  He’s also laconic about damn near everything else too: “I get these from friends.” “Eh, selling them is a living.”  Ask too many questions, he’ll frown and move on.

If you try to follow him, he’ll disappear around the next corner and just plain vanish.  No one’s ever accosted or attacked him, and no one’s been insane enough to try to rob him.  (My parties, who are uniformly charmed when the fellow shows up, exert peer pressure on anyone who’s tried to so much as give him a hard time.)  I leave it up to GMs what happens if anyone tries, but I recommend lightning from the sky and the earth opening up to swallow offenders.

It is, of course, up to the players to decide what good the items are for, if anything.  Some, like a 20th century cowboy hat, are obvious.  Some, like a lava lamp or a toaster oven, sure as heck aren’t.

30 Naval Officers

1) The Hornblower: Coming from a relatively plebeian background in a navy that favors aristocrats, coming very late to the sea, unlucky when it comes to money, unwilling to play the political game, the Hornblower has numerous strikes against him. Yet his brilliant mind took to mathematics early, and his hard work, diligence and native talent led him to become a very successful captain in single-ship actions.  (When it comes to it, it doesn’t hurt that he’s a skilled, scientific fencer, but he's not one of those swashbuckling leads-every-boarding-action types.) Anything but hidebound, he questions many of his navy’s shibboleths and sees further than most. But his background has led him to chronic self-doubt and introspection – he’s sure that if he’s ever anything less than perfectly successful at sea, he’ll be beached, and he’s intensely troubled by questions of honor that others shrug off with a bemused smirk.  The Hornblower overcompensates by striving to be the epitome of wooden stoicism and pushing would-be friends away.

2) The Lewrie: In many ways the polar opposite of the Hornblower, the Lewrie was a town clown – and happy to be so! – interested in little beyond partying, wenching and drinking. Shipped off to the navy in a virtual shanghaiing in order to steal his inheritance, he took an interest in gunnery out of boredom, and eventually became an efficient and effective naval officer almost despite himself. He hasn’t changed all that much: his inability to keep his trousers buttoned around women has threatened his career, as does his relative egalitarianism – he has a few too many freed slaves in his crew for the liking of some – and an occasional tendency to shoot off his mouth to the wrong people. But he’s a lucky captain who’s popular with his crews, and the rumors are rife that the god of the sea is his personal patron.

3) The Seafort: He is a skilled naval officer, yes, and the survivor of more than one disaster; his honor and personal probity are unsurpassed and rarely questioned. But he has two traits seen by some to be virtues and by others to be flaws. In the first place, he has a deep religious faith bordering on fanaticism; in the second, he holds to the service regulations with an intensity that leaves your average fanatic gasping. The Regs are the Law and the Godhead rolled into one, and he will enforce their letter to the utmost, even if he is sickened by the result, no matter how much blood he needs to spill: even if it costs him family, friends or everything else.

4) The Aubrey: He’s almost close to a split personality, the Aubrey ashore and the Aubrey afloat. Ashore, he’s a beefy, jovial scion of the minor gentry, a bit on the shallow side, more than a little gullible, open-handed, fond of horses, gambling and living beyond his means ... with no pretensions to intellect beyond that he’s a notable amateur astronomer and musician. Afloat, he is a master seaman, tactically brilliant, mechanically sound, with a natural aura of command, a renowned gift of sea-luck, and a bright love of battle: while he’s more a good hand-to-hand fighter than a great one, the Aubrey has a touch of the berserker about him. He spent time as a common sailor, and knows the lower deck intimately – what they will put up with, what they won’t. It doesn’t hurt his career that he’s a (largely absentee) member of his nation’s legislature.

5) The Prescot: A renowned knight of his nation’s most revered fighting order, the Prescot is a good tactician, a veteran sailor, and possesses an almost mystical charisma for leadership. He has the common touch, and thrills his men by recognizing even those who he hasn’t seen in years. But what truly leads him to success is less his skills as a ship’s captain – good, but not superlative – than his unparalleled mastery with his greatsword.  The Prescot leads all boarding actions, none can stand before him, and the bottom of the sea is carpeted by the bodies of his slain. He fights his nation’s enemies as if it were a holy war – which, in truth, it is – and in battle his normally affable expression turns into a veritable demon’s mask. Indeed, he’s been accused of being one.

6) The Leary: The Leary and the Aubrey would likely get along; they share many a similarity. The Leary’s own path to the top is smoothed by that his father is the retired ruler (and eminence grise) of the nation, and that the admiral-in-chief is his patron, but his own naval skills are great. He is a navigator of almost supernatural skill, the finest of his day, and he has an impressive record of battle success against huge odds. What sustains him above all else is his cheerful love of life, the loyalty of his crew – many of whom have followed him from ship to ship (to the point that the “Sissies,” nicknamed after the Leary’s first command, are a large cadre recognized by that name alone) – and his unwavering belief in the superiority of his nation’s naval personnel: that they are the best anywhere, and that they will always succeed. One peculiarity is that he’s a devoted amateur naturalist, and often travels with guidebooks.

7) The Bolitho: Like the Leary and the Prescot, the Bolitho has his loyal cadre of followers, to the point that they call themselves “We Happy Few,” and inspires many a lifelong friendship. He is a skilled seaman and tactician, and beyond that skilled at strategy as well: admiral’s rank rests as easily on his shoulders as a captain’s rank did.  Moreover, he's an excellent teacher, counting numerous captains and junior admirals among his former pupils. The only fly in his ointment is a string of personal tragedies that often leave him brooding and depressed, but he seldom lets these moods affect his duty to ship, crew and country. A paragon of decency in an indecent time, he has a disregard for both social conventions and political expediency.  The axes of his superiors seem always sharpened for him if he falters, something his lieutenants grasp better than he does.

8) The Cochrane: On the one hand, the “Sea Wolf” is a renowned and lucky captain, having racked up some of the most impressive single-ship actions in history, against insanely long odds. He is also a skilled coastal raider, a technological innovator and a meticulous planner with a eye towards keeping casualties to a minimum. On the other hand, well. With a large chip on his shoulder (the Cochrane is the son of a great – but impoverished – lord), he is innately incapable of getting along with his superiors, his subordinates, the press, the aristocracy, the government ... pretty much anyone who doesn’t agree with him in all things. With a record of publicly criticizing the admiralty and the government, and superiors who'd rather be damned than offer him an appointment, he’s been reduced to being a mercenary admiral for foreign nations.

9) The Ramius: His country’s been long at (formal) peace, but he is a very well-regarded captain, technically highly competent, a sound tactician. His commands are tacitly teaching ones, and the admiralty looks on the “Schoolmaster” with favor for the large number of talented captains and officers that were juniors in his commands. But there is a canker in his heart. His wife recently died at the hands of an incompetent physician who was too well politically connected to be punished, and the Ramius himself is the rare officer in his nation’s navy from a downtrodden frontier minority. His tolerance for the failings of his nation exhausted, he plans to defect to the enemy: with the fleet’s newest and deadliest warship.

10) The Farragut: Adopted as a child by a celebrated naval captain, the Farragut joined the navy as a midshipman himself at age nine; he was a successful prizemaster at twelve, wounded in action at fourteen. He has been in the navy ever since, even now that he’s becoming an old man. He’s fought in many a war and many an action, and held many a command – largely in anti-piracy patrols. Now his nation is in a civil war, and even though he is from the secessionist province, he is staunchly loyal to the colors he has worn for nearly fifty years. His nation’s leading admiral through seniority, some worry that he’s too old for the task (and a few mutter about his loyalties, if never ever ever in his hearing), but his innate aggressiveness, daring and knowledge of artillery may well see him through. 

11) The Porter: His grandfather was a renowned navy captain. His father was a renowned navy captain. (Indeed, his children are all navy officers.) The Porter is his nation’s second admiral in history, and adding to the family tree, the Farragut is his much older adopted brother. Like the Farragut, he joined the navy very young, and like the Farragut, he has served his entire life. He grew up overseas and speaks several languages well, and despite friction with his superiors – the Porter tends to be cocky and challenges his superiors’ skill and knowledge – was selected to found the national maritime academy, and with his characteristic energy, added honor, discipline and knowledge to the service. He’s much more of a thinker than his brawler of an elder brother, which so far has served him well in the nation’s civil war. The Porter is experienced in handling flotillas of small craft and river boats, as well as in combined operations with army forces, one of the few sea captains who is.

12) The Hull: Bred to the sea in merchantmen – his father was a civilian captain – he joined his newly independent nation’s nascent navy at age 25. In something of a makeshift squadron, his captain’s time was taken up with its command, leaving the Hull as tacit “captain” of the warship. He received his first independent command just two years later, fighting pirates – whom the Hull hates with a bitter passion – and while the new navy is small and operating on a shoestring, the Hull hasn’t lacked for the best commands available since. He’s proven to be an efficient and reliable leader, and has made his name in single-ship actions, being perhaps the fleet’s best shiphandler. Unfortunately, his popularity among his crews is suspect; difficulties in manning the fleet has led him to put newly recruited sailors in irons, lest they immediately desert with their hiring bonuses. With his country in a new war against the world’s leading maritime power, it is up to the Hull and his fellow captains to stave off their fleets.

13) The Pigot: Young for his post, advanced up the ranks with indecent speed, he’s made captain through good connections and patronage (his father’s an admiral). Unfortunately, the Pigot’s no seaman and even less of a shiphandler; his ships have rammed two merchantmen so far. What is worse, he seized the master and officers of the second merchantmen, blamed them for the incident, and had them flogged, creating a diplomatic incident and nearly leading him to be cashiered. His new command may be his last chance for glory. However, he now has a reputation for extreme brutality, and scarcely a man in his crew has escaped flogging or worse. Whether he gains the distinction he seeks or dies at the hands of his crew is the toss of a coin.

14) The Doria: A scion of the minor nobility, he was orphaned at an early age, and became a mercenary to support himself before joining the navy. Even after becoming a renowned leader in the service of his native navy, the mercenary has never really left the Doria’s soul: he’s touchy when it comes to being paid per contract and on time, and has switched sides in consequence more than once. Still, his heart is with his homeland, and he is seldom out of its colors for long. His fellow citizens don’t seem to mind, and he’s been called upon as an honest broker more than once to help sort out his nation’s occasionally dysfunctional government. Age has not lessened his vigor, and deep into his eighties, his land has called on him again – for perhaps the final time – to lead their navy against the enemy.

15) The Semmes: When the rebellion began, the Farragut stayed with the colors. But his comrade the Semmes – as with the Farragut, a naval officer for many decades – could not turn his back on his home province. The secessionist navy is weak and consists of raiders and privateers, and its captains have proven to be masters at this style of warfare. Though it is seen as ignoble, the Semmes rationalizes this as the only real chance he has of using his skills in his new nation’s cause. Still, the dishonor stings somewhat, and so the Semmes will risk his command in “honorable” single-ship actions with the enemy navy. Handsome and deceptively young looking, he is also a student of philosophy, and read for the law as a lieutenant.

16) The de Clisson: The war was long and savage, but punctuated by occasional truces. The de Clisson’s husband was treacherously seized during one of them, and cruelly executed for treason in what was widely seen to be a judicial murder. Escaping just ahead of the law, the de Clisson swore red vengeance. She took what portable fortune she could, outfitted a squadron of warships painted black and with sails dyed red, and with her vassals as crews, offered her services to the other side. The “Lioness” and her Black Fleet are greatly feared, having preyed relentlessly on her old nation ever since: she scorns quarter and offers none, being famous for leaving only one survivor of any of her attacks on ship or coastal town, so that the survivor can tell others who was responsible. Her two surviving teenage sons sail with her, and are as redhanded as their mother. Gruesomely, her husband’s severed head is the figurehead of her flagship Revenge.

17) The Amra: His homeland is in the barbaric north, and while he’s lived in civilized lands since he was a teenager and possesses a crude honor and sense of chivalry, he’s been tarred with the barbarian brush ever after. While he’s a decent enough seaman and shiphandler, he’s neither an expert navigator nor much of a tactician: his plan is usually to sail straight up to the enemy, board them and take them without undue fuss. While his tactics often result in heavy losses among his crews, he possesses a formidable charisma ... and he is the best fighter in the world, all-but unconquerable. The Amra has spent years as a pirate, and is greatly respected by corsairs and the coastal tribesmen, whom he has led on more than one occasion. Between this and his barbaric upbringing, he has no patience with politics, and has foundered more than once on his insistence on straight talk and plain speech, and his bemused contempt for laws he finds foolish.

18) The Wallis: He wasn’t really at sea when he was five years old; that was an illegal dodge used by many a parent to get their children naval seniority young.  He didn’t actually go to sea until he was 13, and hasn’t had all that distinguished a career: been in the right places, had decent enough luck, never was wounded, never screwed up, had the usual number of commands, was an admiral at fifty.  But.  His nation really takes seniority seriously, and up the ladder the Wallis continued to climb, refusing to retire ... and he can’t be compelled to do so, nor can he be superseded.  He’s nearly a hundred years old now, technically on “active” duty for over ninety years, and Admiral of the Fleet for the better part of twenty years.  The ruler’s begging him to retire, threatening him with a seagoing command if he doesn’t.  The response of the Wallis is that he’s ready to accept one!

19) The l’Olonnois: But as to that, nations can do worse than the Wallis.  There’s the l’Olonnois.  The enemy ambushed him and his crew, slaughtering almost everyone – he himself survived by covering himself with blood and playing dead.  After that, he swore he would never give quarter to the enemy, and he hasn’t.  He will loot and torture, rape and murder, commit any atrocity and break any law to defeat them, and no naval officer has a worse reputation for cruelty or implacable ferocity.  Nor is he any more civilized with prisoners of war: one of his most gruesome deeds was to tear out the heart of one surrendered captain and eat it raw in front of the surrendered crew.  With an immense price on his head, the enemy has sworn to serve the l’Olonnois out as he has done to others.  If they can catch him.

20) The O’Malley: Her nation is the restive and unwilling conquest of a larger, and as a noble, she commands the rebel fleet.  Whether the O’Malley is a freedom fighter or a pirate depends on one’s point of view, but in any event she’s a fearless swashbuckler, less by way of a tactician than in ambushes and direct strikes.  It helps that her lands are in a region where the sway of the oppressors is weak and sympathy for her is strong, and she keeps the loyalty of the common folk with her coarse manners and coarser language ... and through her many victories.

21) The Lamb: He has a profound hatred for physical labor and for rising early in the morning (having grown up on a hardscrabble farm), and so avoids both at all costs.  However, the notion of sitting down – and being paid to read books! – is of great delight to the Lamb, and so he arranged, very efficiently, to pass through the naval academy with the least amount of effort.  (This involved becoming an expert smallsword fencer, so that he could avoid playing a rougher sport, and avoid harsh discipline that might threaten his chances to win matches for the dear old Navy!)  He has a very well trained and disciplined memory, so he has all the answers to hand for senior officers.  This makes them look good, and therefore happy, so the Lamb is a highly valued staff officer ... he's never had a command and would decline one if offered.  A natural efficiency expert (less work that way!), every job he holds is simplified, and his successor always has less work to do than his predecessor.

22) The Ghormley: With a long and uneventful career in the peacetime navy, moving up through the usual ladder of posts and commands, he became friends with the nation’s ruler.  And so, when the nation went to war, the Ghormley was placed in command of its expeditionary fleet, over the heads of others the naval authorities preferred in the role.  Unfortunately, the Peter Principle is very much at work.  Technological advances have him in command of ships far different than he remembers how to handle, he’s never before held fleet command, the details of admiralty are beyond him, he’s indecisive, and he often skips planning meetings.  His indecisive defeatism is starting to infect his command.

23) The Togo: His once-isolationist nation had no experience at sea ... until the day a foreign navy raided them.  The teenage Togo fought the invaders, but to no avail, and a humiliating defeat was the end result.  Shortly thereafter, the nation founded its first navy, and the Togo enlisted.  He knew that his best path to naval knowledge was in the very nation that attacked them, and he lived and studied there for several years ... insulted, derided – but successful.  He rose quickly up the ranks upon returning home, despite bouts of ill health, and now he is the fleet commander.  He now leads that fleet in a new war against a major power, and he is the only commander on his side with actual combat experience at sea.  Certainly the honor of his nation and his race are at stake.

24) The Mundy: Like the Lamb, she’s a career staff officer.  Naval punctilio means nothing to her, not even her best friend would call her a people person, and the only way she really knows how to act in certain situations is to observe others and do likewise.  (She’s only in the navy at all out of the noblesse oblige of her aristocratic culture, and as a substitute family for the one she lost in an insurrection.) But in staff work she’s unsurpassed, especially in communications and intelligence gathering and analysis, and is immensely respected on the ships she’s on ... not least due to the Mundy’s expertise as a duelist and as a deadly shot.  While she’s never served in the line and has no feel for navigation or shiphandling, the Mundy has a basic grasp of tactics, and has done well in situations where she’s been forced to command a vessel ... or a squadron.

25) The Tyacke: Very successful early on as a commander of small warships, his luck ran out in a battle that badly disfigured him.  The injury cost him his command and his repulsed fiancee, but he stuck with the service with his bitterness fueling his natural intense energy.  The “Devil With Half A Face” became a greatly feared captain in anti-slavery patrols – a much-derided arm of the navy which was the only way the interest-lacking Tyacke could get a command – fighting slavers with both his vast natural talent and a distinct lack of quarter.  He’s capable of great loyalty to an admiral who’d take a chance on him, but contemptuously rejects pity, and sometimes lashes out savagely at the hint of it.

26) The Bonden: Coming from the lower classes and the lower deck, he’ll never have a command; as to that, uneducated and only becoming literate later in life, he’s barely an officer.  But the Bonden is a consummate natural seaman, skilled at all aspects of his trade, and his captains often trust him as a prize master or as the “advisor” for less competent, higher status officers on independent commands.  Able to deal courteously with his superiors, just as able to speak the coarse lower deck idiom, he’s often the backbone of his ships.  It doesn’t hurt his reputation that he’s a renowned boxer and wrestler, often the champion in fleet-wide competitions.

27) The Pascoe: On the one hand, the Pascoe’s got it made: he’s the nephew of the Bolitho, one of the great admiral’s many successful proteges, a natural frigate captain, young, successful, handsome, gaining renown in his own right, far less prone to make enemies than his uncle.  But on the other, there are shadows ... quite aside from that the Bolitho is a tough act to follow.  The Pascoe is in fact a bastard whom his uncle took in out of pity; his mother was a penniless prostitute, and his father (the Bolitho’s older brother) was a despised traitor to his nation, gaining a reputation the Pascoe has had to live down.  He’s also unlucky in love, involved in more than one romance doomed from the start – notably on one occasion, with his admiral’s wife.

28) The Blood: Apolitical, a member of a disparaged and oppressed minority, while the Blood was an experienced soldier and sailor in his youth, he never would’ve entered a naval career except through the hazards of misfortune.  Settling down to the practice of medicine, he humanely treated wounded rebels, was swept up in reprisals by the scared government, condemned, sold as a slave.  Popular among his fellow slaves due to his skills as a physician, he gathered together a cadre of sailors, escaped, and now commands a successful squadron of privateers ... as much out of a lack of anything better to do as for any other reason.  Curiously solicitous of his home nation (which causes some friction among his lieutenants), the Blood preys with verve upon its enemies: perhaps hoping for a pardon and reinstatement.

29) The Harrington: It’s not that her nation’s navy frowns on female commanders; it’s relatively egalitarian, with many women in high command.  Nor is it that the Harrington is a poor captain – quite the opposite, she’s highly successful both with single-ship and squadron command, with a talent for overcoming obstacles and for winning the respect of her enemies, and the Bolitho is her only peer on this list for their proteges achieving command in their own right.  Perhaps it’s just that the navy in which she serves is factionalized, politicized and more than a little corrupt, that she’s too honest and forthright to play such games ... and she's delivered too much testimony and too many reports laying well-deserved blame for screwups at the feet of highly placed admirals.  As such, all too often she winds up on the wrong side of factional battles, and her career’s suffered for it.

30) The Adama: He was on the brink of retirement, the weary, aging, bypassed last commander of an obsolete warship about to be mothballed.  Then a disaster struck his nation, the navy was gutted, and it’s not so much that the Adama is their best captain available as that he’s damn near the only one left.  Nonetheless, he plays a losing hand as well as anyone can hope for, managing the retreat with grim determination and skill.  His focus is intense and almost unwavering, his love of his ship almost symbiotic, and he will do what it takes to get the survivors through to safety.

Revised Alchemy rules for GURPS

So ... following a forum conversation on the relative inadequacy of the GURPS alchemical rules, I figured I should throw my own set up, based partly on the book rules, partly on Pyramid articles, and partly on my own notions about which holes needed to be filled.  This doesn't include the actual list of elixirs, which really would only be of use to GURPS players.  Enjoy!

"Can't brew Aqua Vitae to save my life, you said?"

The following rules supersede the ones in GURPS Magic.

General: An Alchemist knows, at startup, a number of elixirs equal to (Alchemy skill x 1.5); therefore, a character with Alchemy-12 knows 18 preparations to start.  At least half of these must be in one category of Elixir: Poisons, Combat, Common Preparations, Magical, Medical, Mental, Physical and Protective.  This is the Alchemist’s Primary category.  Outside of this, an Alchemist may learn any formula from any category for which he or she meets the prerequisites.  However, any formula with a penalty of -4 or more is treated as “restricted” and only available to Alchemists for whom that is a Primary category.

A starting character cannot know Alchemical Metals, nor any formula with a penalty of -5 or more.

Brewing:  To create an elixir, an Alchemist must expend a certain amount of money and time as listed in the elixir lists.  (If not otherwise stated, the default time to make an elixir is one week.)  The elixir will be brewing 24 hours a day during that time, and must be attended by an alchemist for at least eight hours daily.  This need not be the same alchemist throughout the process, but if more than one alchemist works on an elixir, the lowest-skill alchemist is responsible for making the final Skill roll.  If the elixir is in the Alchemist’s Primary category, it takes 10% less time to brew and requires one hour per day less time to oversee – thus, seven hours vs eight.  Elixirs can be made as:

Grenade: To be thrown at a target, requiring a nagateppo.  Only those elixirs specifically flagged with a (G) can be made into this form;
Ointment: To be rubbed on bare skin (or another target); can be stored in a jar, tube or any waterproof container;
Pastille: A thumb-sized pill that needs to be lit, and affects all who inhale its smoke.  Must be kept in a fire- and water-resistant container;
Potion: Drinkable liquid, stored in any waterproof container;
Powder: Can be blown at the target or put into food or drink to be consumed; kept in a small bag or jar.

The basic field setup for brewing is listed in the price lists at two sovereigns and 25 lbs (exclusive of ingredient costs), and gives a -2 penalty to skill.  In an emergency, a fire source, scoured jars and clean field expedient tools are possible, but at a -3 penalty to skill or worse.  Brewing outdoors – where wind, dust and other detritus can interfere – likewise is not a great idea.
               
Being a magical process, alchemy is affected by background mana.  Add +1 to effective Skill for brewing in a high mana area, and subtract -3 for brewing in a low mana area.  Brewing in a very high mana area is hideously dangerous, and a number of alchemists are trying to figure out what effects brewing on a Dragon Line † cause.  Consuming an elixir is unaffected by mana level, but elixirs do not work in no mana zones.

Modifiers: Since alchemy is an art, not a science, applications of the following are up to the GM’s whim of the moment, especially on what elixirs can be affected by these and by how much.

* An alchemist can only oversee one elixir at once, but can brew multiple doses of the same elixir, at -1 to the final Skill roll for each additional dose.  For each -1 additional penalty to the Skill roll and 10% increase in both production time and ingredient cost, the duration of the elixir is increased by 100%; for instance, taking a -3 Skill and +30% time and cost results in an elixir with quadruple duration.  Similar actions may (repeat, may) have a similar effect on the elixir’s effects other than duration.

* By taking extra brewing time, the odds of success are improved: for each additional +50% in brewing time and +5% of cost (keeping those fires and reagents coming, y’know), add +1 to effective Skill roll.

* One way to create an elixir in a short span of time is to make a less powerful version.  For every 10% by which either the brewing time or the required ingredients costs are reduced (up to a maximum of 80%), the value, duration and all effects of the elixir are reduced by 10% as well.  For instance, one could brew a dose of Phoenix’s Blood in just four days, changing the result from recovering 1d HT to recovering 1d-2 HT instead.

Learning New Formulae: The formularies to brew an elixir are esoteric, obscure knowledge costing at least a sovereign a pop, and much more for an entire Category.  An Alchemist should spend as many days studying a new formula as it takes to brew that elixir; until that time is taken, the Alchemist can brew out of the book, but it takes half again as long for the preparation.  

Improving Skill: The effective Skill of all preparations is increased if the player increases Alchemy skill.  Alternately, individual elixirs can be learned (and improved) as Hard Techniques.

Mastery: An Alchemist is said to have “mastered” a category of elixirs when he has learned a certain number in each.  Mastery reduces the time required to oversee a brewing by a hour (which stacks with the hour reduction for Primary elixirs), and is a prerequisite both for learning certain formulae and for learning Alchemical Metals.  The requirements for mastering a category are:

    Poisons: Thirteen preparations.
    Combat: All ten preparations below -4 in difficulty (e.g., all but Mighty Bull and Starcrystal)
    Common Preparations: Ten preparations.
    Magical: Twelve preparations below -4 in difficulty (e.g., leaving out Alkahest, Radiant Dawn, Ratri’s Balm, Rudra’s Cloak and Water of Hematite).
    Medical: Twelve preparations below -4 in difficulty (e.g., leaving out Aqua Vitae, Ratri’s Balm, Stimulant/Gold and Water of Tourmaline).
    Mental: Twelve preparations below -4 in difficulty (e.g., leaving out San Pirian’s Elixir and Water of Diamond).
    Physical: Twelve preparations below -4 in difficulty (e.g., leaving out Aqua Verti).
    Protective: All nine preparations below -4 in difficulty (e.g., all but Mighty Bull and Water of Pearl).

    Elixirs belonging to more than one category (such as Mighty Bull or Ratri’s Balm) count for both.   

Mage-Alchemists: The use of certain spells can aid with alchemy.  The Skill penalty for the formula is applied to the spell’s effective Skill.  In every such case, failure on the spell cast ruins the batch.  The following spells can assist Alchemy:

* Essential Spell: The use of spells like Essential Water, Essential Fire, Essential Wood and the like – if such high-grade reagents are reasonably necessary to the process – reduces the time to brew and the cost by 15%.

* Food spells: Distill reduces the time to brew by 10%; Mature reduces it by 5%.  Cook reduces the cost by 10%.

* Temporal spells: The use of time-manipulation spells reduces brewing time, but must be continually maintained for the subjective duration of the brewing, and where applicable, the Alchemist must remain inside the affected area for the requisite eight hours a day (however subjective).  The entirety of the alchemical lab must be inside the area; a Fine lab, for instance, takes up a minimum of two Areas.

* Mimicking spells: If the effects of a given elixir mimic a specific spell, successfully casting that spell once per day on the brewing setup results in a reduction of 10% on both time and cost.  For instance, casting Bravery aids in the creation of Conqueror’s Wine.  Spells that reasonably affect the equipment itself will not end well: casting Levitation on a batch of Levitational Salts, for instance.

Regardless of how many spells might apply, the grand total reduction in time or cost may never go below 80%.

Alchemical Miscellany:

* Not being a “killer GM” by inclination (I’m talking to you, AD&D Miscibility chart), there is no baleful consequences to drinking multiple elixirs of different types at once, above and beyond their base effects.  (Guzzling San Caellan’s Brew and Water of Tourmaline at the same time, for example, is more than somewhat counterproductive.)

* If they’re stored in reasonably secure containers and in reasonably stable environments, alchemicals last indefinitely.  An elixir in an uncorked vial can be recorked, likely with no adverse effects, if it wasn’t abused in the meantime.  There are no guarantees about what happens to alchemicals that are stored in the open – say, powders in a potpourri dish, or elixirs sitting on the hearth.

* Alchemists can analyze elixirs and magic items as per GURPS Magic, p. 212.

* Techniques: Batching (Hard, default Elixir+0, buys off penalty for multiple doses of the same elixir), Identify Elixir (Hard, default Alchemy+0), Identify Magical Item (Hard, default Alchemy-2)

† - "Dragon Lines" are ley lines.  The places where such lines intersect are High Mana zones, at least.  They've only appeared on my gameworld in the last two years.

30 (+) Obnoxious Cultural Traits

There's a current (well, recently necroed) thread on my favorite gaming forum of 101 Obnoxious Cultural Traits.  Diving right in, herewith are my entries so far, for your own use and edification! If you feel some of these reflect real world cultures, you may well be right ...

"We're all badasses!  Can't you see the skull?"

1) They are relentless exceptionalists. Their culture/nation is just superior. Everything they do is better. Every institution they have is superior. Their blood is purer. Their crops are taller, their livestock is bigger, their children are smarter, their hats are wider, their music is louder, their sports are more "manly." It isn't even as if they feel they're in a competition: they think they already won them all a long time ago. Any evidence to the contrary is just white noise, and met with bemused, patronizing smiles.

2) As a variant of the above, they feel their culture is the center of the universe. Everyone else is a barbarian, and they just can't wrap their heads around dealing with outsiders except on terms of supplicants kowtowing to their masters. They're always right, everyone else is always wrong. 

3) They are rabid libertarians. The notion of a "common good" is sneered at, never mind sacrificing to achieve it. Any hint at restraining their "freedom" must be the result of malice, a vile conspiracy or enemy action. (Somewhat more obnoxiously, their notion of "freedom" suddenly comes to a screeching halt when it comes to how YOU act towards THEM.)

4) They loathe and despise another major culture/nation. Nothing from that culture can be any good. No one from that culture is any good. Having so much of an ancestor of that culture defiles you irrevocably. The laws notwithstanding, crimes committed against people from that culture are no more credited by the authorities than crimes committed against a cockroach. That other culture/nation is plainly out to do them down, and must be opposed at all times and at all hazards, reflexively.  If an actual conflict breaks out, it's war to the knife.

5) Their notion of driving comes, one might joke, from demolition derbies. They hurl their vehicles forward at reckless speeds. Traffic laws, driving lanes, curbsides, these are designed to be flouted. Other vehicles, obstacles, buildings, these are expected to yield or vanish at their approach. Their attitude towards pedestrians is apparently that they collect points for mowing them down, like a pinball game. Being a passenger in their vehicles feels very much like you're on the wrong end of a cavalry charge.

6) Their notion of formal courtesy is staggeringly complex, and lacks any sense of a guiding principle: there are just rules upon rules upon rules. There aren't merely a few forms of address; there are hundreds. It's not that the rules themselves are incomprehensible, it's that there are so damn many. Failure to conform with each and every one of them tags you, irrevocably, as a barbarian.

7) Likewise, they have a complex code of behavior based around clothing, jewelry, face painting and/or tattoos. Where and whether you wear a stud of a red stone in a gold setting, versus wearing a blue stone in a silver setting, announces that you're in a committed monogamous relationship, versus being up for one-off sexual encounters with strangers in the nearest convenient alley. (Or so it would seem.) This code signifies area of birth, political or religious affiliation, the whole works. Wearing the items the "wrong" way is Not Done ... well, other than by adolescents trying to shock the squares. They all reflexively assume outsiders are familiar with and are conforming to the code, and are very wrongfooted if this isn't the case.

8) Some common terms in their language are vile obscenities in yours, or vice versa. "Good morning, how are you faring?" is their standard greeting, and the words in your language imply that the speaker personally facilitated your spouse becoming a diseased prostitute.  The very name of their people, in their own language, is an obscenity in yours.

9) They are a homogeneous society, exclusively of an insular ethnic group. They will learn the language of another culture only grudgingly, and practice elements of that culture in like fashion, like someone scrunching up their faces and holding their noses. Intolerant of immigrants, outsiders in their homeland are stigmatized and relegated to menial or dangerous professions. Marrying outside their culture is unthinkable.  They tend, generally, to be isolationists.

10) In a more extreme fashion – tip of the cap to Prof. Barker! – the culture is downright xenophobic. They won't even pretend to tolerate the practices of outsiders, nor soil their tongues with barbarian languages.  Foreigners had better stay in their insular cantonments after business hours (and will be cheated and derided during them), or risk running into gangs whose idea of fun is impaling them.

11) They just don't get the practices of other cultures. They're not unduly mean or rude about it, nor are they haughty over the correctness of their own culture, but they can't comprehend deviations from their own practices, no matter how often displayed or repeated.

12) They're inveterate and reflexive duelists. They're touchy about a lot of things, and an insult can only be wiped out in blood: there's pretty much a duel going on all the time in any city (and they're outright spectator sports).  The code duello is comprehensive and well-known. Declining a duel provokes the same horrified reactions as urinating on an altar during a religious service might.

13) Speaking of which ... they don't have much body consciousness regarding evacuation. Publicly urinating or defecating is the norm. Dropping trou to wipe their genitals with a cloth -- oh, hey, your handkerchief will do, much thanks! -- is common.

14) They are extreme xenophiles. Everything other cultures do is Neat! and Cool!  A product wrapping, a business sign, these are invariably in some other language (and they're often careless about the translation).  They give their children foreign -- or foreign-sounding -- names.  They're passionately interested in every difference, and regard every manifestation or behavior you might make as potentially some new Neat! and Cool! practice. They want to know All About It! Why is it you rub your chin like that? Did you get that from your parents? Is that a religious thing? Neat!

15) They have an extensive caste system, and everyone has their place within it. The system's very rigid, and rules govern how you treat people at every rung; violating these rules isn't merely a social offense but a religious one as well. They seek to fit you into a slot, and are visibly uncomfortable with those who do not fit.  However much they grudgingly recognize that other cultures don't play by their rules, it's hard for them to deal with and it shows.

16) The culture is just reflexively and mindlessly cruel, compared to yours. People think nothing of lashing lower-status folk with barbed quirts or whips, mutilating servants, putting animals to painful deaths just for the heck of it.  Athletic events which don't draw blood are for wimps. Outright executions take hours, and are spectator sports, with families bringing lunch baskets to the party, and the executioners take payments to cut off this part or that. How much am I bid for a finger? C'mon, you can do better than that! What's that you say, you call dibs on the left testicle? And so on and so forth.

17) A staple livestock (treated routinely as food in YOUR culture) is regarded as sacred. The animals are inviolate, allowed to wander around as they please, breeding and eating as they will. Just touching them is suspect. Molesting or impeding them will earn you a beating at best. Actually harming one will subject the perp to a gruesome death; being burned alive is standard. Eating the animal's flesh (or using its byproducts) is considered cannibalism and sacrilegious, and being known to be from a culture where that happens marks you as suspect. Accusations are routine and often knee-jerk: you'd better not sport a feather in your hat, if you don't want someone to scream that you plucked it from a sacred chicken ...

18) Some common practice is fetishized to the extreme. Let's take the color yellow, for example. Everyone wears it. No one's seen without it. Great care is taken to keep those yellow articles of clothing spotless and pristine. Spitting on something that's colored yellow is a near-sacrilegious act. Insulting the color absolutely is. People will stop and pray for a minute before whipping an egg yolk ... or doing anything that will harm or mar something colored yellow. "Sash-smearer" is their worst insult (referring to those unutterable louts who spill sauces on their yellow sashes). Even down to everyone daily consuming enough of a certain herb to ensure that they don't disrespect the revered color through urination. Pardon me, sir (delivered in a chilly tone), why aren't you eating your mlekil-root? What does its taste have to do with it?

19) It's an equestrian culture. Possession of a riding animal is a prerequisite to being treated as a real person, and one's skill at riding is paramount in determining status. All art and architecture is suffused with references to riding. Combat solely takes place mounted, and being dismounted or having your mount killed automatically means you yield/surrender. People would rather ride twenty miles than walk one. The very word for "human" in their language is literally "one who rides," and someone unable to ride (through inexperience, no talent, disability or age) is no longer treated as an adult, and will not be trusted with any responsible position.

20) No negotiation, no business dealing can be concluded before several rounds of their bitter, foul-tasting, very heavily alcoholic national drink. Wincing, flinching, or gagging means you're less than a real person. Never mind -- the gods forbid! -- declining.  What?!  You refuse to drink with us!?  (cue hand dropping to sword hilt)

21) Insults are the common way of treating other people. Greeting your best friend or spouse with "How goes it, you ugly goatfucker?" is considered a basic sign of affection. By contrast, treating someone with formal courtesy is considered insulting.

22) All foods must be prepared in a certain way (particular to each food or dish), and only in that way. You can only eat omelets; scrambled eggs are taboo. You can only eat broiled steaks; panfried or steak stir fry is right out. You can only find skim milk; whole fat milk doesn't exist. Etcetera.

23) Lying is a serious sin in this culture, and on the one hand that's a good thing. But the flip side is that people are seriously gullible, and will swallow the most bizarre delusions, if delivered earnestly enough. These are the people who believe in Pizzagate, the Piltdown Man, blood libels, Satanic ritual abuse, evil clowns, that the 2020 election was rigged, that the presence of wizards in neighborhoods cause people to become sterile, that the world will end on Kelusse 15 at two hours to sunsdown, and that the Martian War Machines will be responsible. They're altogether too easy to cheat or scam ... and altogether too willing to tear suspected cheaters and scammers to pieces, if the bastards are outed.

24) Religion is omnipresent to an overbearing degree. Prayer is a part of all business. Attending daily services is a must, and the truly pious squeeze more in. No home is without a niche to the gods/ancestors/spirits, and the poor beggar themselves for candles and offerings. Incredibly arcane -- and near-trivial -- facets of the faith are exhaustively contentious and continually debated, and riots have started over whether their god has two natures but only one will, or two wills and only one nature. (That particular riot ended when the two sides joined forces to attack the faction holding that the god had an equally balanced number of wills and natures: heresy!) An economically draining and disproportionate number are in the clergy. They're aware that outlanders hold to different faiths, and don't harass them for it, but it's all very tiresome.

24b) Come to that, take just about any aspect of life -- sports, politics, literature, leisure pastimes -- and apply the same treatment. Everyone reads all the time, no one's considered educated or a grown-up without being familiar with the entirety of the culture's literary canon, constant debates over New Works vs Traditional Works, fist fights over whether the newest translation was botched, people who can't whip out quotes at the drop of a pin derided for being bumpkins, society coming to a screeching halt when the Greatest Living Author comes out with a new book, society coming to a screeching halt for the state funeral when the Greatest Living Author kicks it. Etc.

25) The society's pretty straightlaced, nose to the grindstone, work work work. But at quitting time on Friday (or the equivalent thereof), all hell breaks loose. Everyone gets hammered, everyone gets laid, everyone dives into a completely over the top bacchanal. Kick the gendarmes in the jimmies, smash windows and furniture in the ensuing drunken stupor, empty your gun into the ceiling, throw up on your boss after pointing at her husband's crotch and laughing, it's all laughed off: "Whiskey, eh." At dawn the party stops, the cleanup begins, and everyone makes a point -- or that's the ideal, anyway -- of not mentioning it.

26) The culture has no sense of privacy. Everyone's in everyone else's business, all the time. It's only mildly suspect to come home to find a neighbor rifling through your papers and cabinets. Evasive or non-answers (or, gasp, locking one's door) invariably provoke a startled "Whaddaya got to hide?"

27) The culture has a fetish for divination. Everyone looks for omens for everything. The bones are cast, or the cards are read, or the entrails are examined for auspicious days to begin any significant undertaking. You might have to dodge passersby on the streets who are staring straight up, trying to discern patterns in the clouds or the flight of birds. No one will conclude serious business with you before consulting their fortuneteller, or asking you your birthday so they can have their neighborhood astrologer cast your horoscope.

28) The society highly values the ability to withstand pain. Ordeals are rites of passage, and torture the answer to just about everything. Showing fear under threat is shameful, keeping silent under torture is what separates persons from non-persons, and only silent deaths are considered honorable.

29) The culture's never shaken its nomadic roots. Buildings -- and they're never more than two stories -- are constructed with only three walls; the fourth is invariably of heavy canvas, leather, wicker or some other impermanent substance ... wattle-and-daub at the utmost. It's considered decadent to own more than you can carry in a wagon, or any one object too heavy to put in a packsaddle. The mark of how close your folk adhere to cultural purity is whether or not you go through with burning down your entire city once every twelve years -- as was done in the old days -- and rebuild it a mile thataway. Large-scale industry is disparaged in favor of handicrafts.

30) People speak what's on their mind.  It's not quite that they can't lie, or hold a secret, but they're seriously blunt, they have no social filters, and furthermore everyone's expected to take it in stride.   

31) Steel is sacred. Steel is holy. You proudly display your weapons, that all may honor them. You care for your knives like you would for your young. Better than. A rust spot on your blade, a notch, a pit ... and you have insulted Steel itself; you are not fit to live! (And you must die by stoning -- no steel must be sullied with your polluted blood.) A man whose weapon breaks is as good as emasculated. Your wealth must be spent on the finest scabbards, silver wire for the hilts, beautiful gems for the pommels. Only the best whetstones will do. Master armourers are the leaders and arbiters of society. Hail to Sacred Steel!

... stranger, where are your blades? (narrow stare)

The Village of St. Chanan's

I am active on the RPG Pub, my gaming forum of choice.  There's a topic about usable gaming content in blogs, and I figured I'd take up the challenge and work something up.  So here 'tis!

The Village of St. Chanan's

 

HISTORY

St. Chanan’s is a sometime-castle, situated in a border hill country.  In the most recent war, it was invested by a force far greater than its lord and the inadequate garrison could withstand.  The attacking general ordered an immediate escalade, which was badly botched, and while successful sustained far too many casualties.  In any other war, between any two other nations, the ensuing massacre would have been a tale of horror on the lips of minstrels continent-wide; in this war, it was one of all too many.

Intending to render the fortification unusable, the raiders murdered almost everyone they could catch, pulled down the donjon, turned the villages in the valley into smoking ruin, and was about to start on the walls when they were recalled, leaving an empty shell save for the (however much looted) church in the courtyard.  The war has been over for three years now.  The castle was not reclaimed, what with the lord’s heirs carrying on a pitiless war of their own in the courts, over its possession.

TODAY

No one’s sure who made the suggestion, but the several dozen villagers who remained moved in within the walls, to what they now call St. Chanan’s, after the church to the Moon God that still – miraculously – stands.  The outer wall remains in usable condition, and the villagers live inside the towers.  Every day the villagers head out to tend their fields and herd the goats to pasture; every night they come back within the somewhat-dubious safety of the walls.  The fortification is not terribly defensible as it stands, but the towers themselves are fairly secure.  Should PCs find themselves inside, the dwellings within are furnished catch-as-catch-can, with furniture and goods either salvaged from the depredations in the area, or from the donjon itself – it’s by no means unlikely to find a rich, embroidered tapestry serving as a family’s quilt.

The border country was exhausted in the war, and with nearby towns razed and pillaged, St. Chanan’s has become a trading post.  Cross-border traders are treated with nothing beyond bare civility, but without trade St. Chanan’s dies, and they are not targeted.  The area marked with asterisks is where peddlers set up stalls or wagons.  A cut of all sales goes to the villagers, but they are more interested in goods useful to them than in coin, and are downright resistant towards gold, preferring to be paid in silver – gold is too easy to steal, they feel.  They are not very interested in things they cannot use, and offering them jewels, weapons or magical items in trade will fall flat (“Pretty necklace.  Can I eat it?  Will it plow a straight furrow?”), believing that they cannot resell such items without being cheated or robbed.

Beyond that, St. Chanan’s doesn’t produce much beyond local crafts, goats’ wool and goat cheese.  These are of good quality, and cheese is available in bulk – typically aged in caves, those weren’t pillaged by the invaders.  The local goat cheese is a white cheese similar to feta, and aged in large balls about 6" wide.  (They have thick rinds and will travel well.)

St. Chanan’s has no leader, and the villagers govern by consensus, meeting as needed.  They are otherwise a sober lot, and aren’t wont to chatter with outsiders without a good reason to do so – law and order has broken down throughout this stretch of the border, and strangers who aren’t obviously traders are suspected of being bandits until proven otherwise.

The fortress is built on a leveled-off hill.  It isn’t all that high – though it has good sightlines for the region around – nor all that steep, save for the bluff just north of the walls.  It has the one well, large and delved by a sorcerer in days gone by.  Travelers are welcome to camp inside the walls, in the center of the compound between the ruins of the donjon and the garden at #9.  The grass is cropped short enough to be unsuitable to feed mounts, however, although one can obtain hay from the villagers for about double the going rate.

CUSTOMS

The builders were pious, and sigils of the Moon God – a chevron of seven different phases of a moon – are over every stone doorway and the gatehouse.  The inner door of every tower has a niche with a devotional statue in it (only a few were desecrated), and locals touch their foreheads and lips to the statues when passing by.  It is an inviolable custom to have oil lamps burning below each statue, but also the source of much contention: a large sum of money dedicated in better days as an “oil fund” is administered by the priestesses of the Moon God, and felt by them to be beyond touching ... no matter how many villagers think there are far better uses for the money than to keep lamps burning beneath eighteen statues.

The villagers hold to several other folk customs.  Adults bear a small wooden or leather tube on their sashes, inside which is a ribbon embroidered with the words “If the Moon Lord does not keep the watch, in vain do mortal sentries do.”  The same phrase is painted over or etched into every lintel.  It is also the custom to ring bells in order to drive demons away, and to wear animal masks into religious ceremonies; a great grief to the villagers is that most of the elaborate carved and painted wooden masks they used to have were burned by the invaders.  Those who rely on crude workarounds feel an inchoate sense of shame (and no small amount of anger) out of the loss of their heritage.

The villagers frequently burn incense or potpourri in their tower dwellings, even down to sweet grass or foraged herbs if that is all they can get.  (They won’t discuss why readily, but in the aftermath of the massacre, the stench was so great that they needed the incense to be able to get a decent night’s sleep, and can’t collectively shake the habit.)  New scents are a trade good that interest them highly.

 

LOCATIONS

1) Blacksmith: Kenesh the smith (Smith-13) runs one of the two interior shops, and lives on the first floor as well.  A burly, easygoing man, he is a perfectly competent smith and a good farrier, but has no experience in armoury beyond knifemaking, forging arrowheads, and basic repairs.  One quirk of his is that he sings while he works ... constantly.  It is always verses from the locals’ epic poem (see #10), and to a tune he makes up on the spot.  Kenesh isn’t a bad singer, mind, but the habit does grate on some nerves.

2) Gatehouse: The gatehouse is in good repair save for the gate itself.  That was smashed by the invaders, and all repairs managed was to make it able to keep goats from straying out at night; it will not deter a determined assault for more than minutes.  The gatehouse remains well stocked with coal, sand (much cheaper and convenient than boiling oil) and weapons that the invaders were unable to cart away.  The invaders smashed the fortress’ artillery, but the villagers repaired two ballistae, one for each of the gate towers.  Not being siege engineers, the degree to which the reconditioned ballistae are safe to operate is anyone’s guess.

Four mercenaries live in the gatehouse, and serve as the village’s guard, keeping an eye on the traders, loitering around the compound during the day to give the illusion of it being patrolled.  The mercs are combat veterans (around 90 pts, on the average), but are either too old or too battered to serve in the line any more.  They are what the villagers can afford, and some locals grumble at scraping up the wherewithal for that much.  They are at least well-supplied from the stores in the fortress, with good swords and mail.  The villagers ignore the detachment as much as possible (the traders, at least, exchange greetings and news), and the mercenaries leave them be.  This is a decent retirement gig, and they’re disinclined to jeopardize that.  

Pereval is the leader of the unit, who call him “Sergeant,” a term at which he himself sneers.  He’s not yet old, and not yet crippled ... he’s just been in too many battles over too many wars, and is past it.  Pereval’s method of peacekeeping is intimidation, backed up by his glaring, orange-gold eyes; it is rumored that he has demon blood in him, something he carefully does not gainsay.  Of course, he talks a far better game than he can back up these days, but he is veteran enough to gauge the prowess of potential foes, and neither he nor his men fight with any degree of chivalry.  They will keep the peace within the walls, but aren't up for pursuing marauders who get away.
                                    
3) St. Chanan’s Church: While the invaders thoroughly looted this small temple, they shrank from destroying it.  The only remaining decorations are the padded kneeling cushions, overlooked by the invaders, and painted murals depicting the saint, purportedly the bodyguard of the Moon Lord as He walked the land.  (In fact, “St. Chanan” is apocryphal, and the organized authority of the moon faith does not recognize his existence.)  A tapestry from the old donjon now serves as an altar cloth, and services and ceremonials continue here.  It is also the closest the locals have to a community hall, and is used for meetings and gatherings.

Learned Elena Macardry is the embittered priestess (Theology-14, various scholarly skills/ Public Speaking-13, Physician-12).  Once the respected (and well-supported) chaplain of the castle’s lord, she heavily resents her now-straitened conditions.  While the villagers still support her out of piety, they do not love her, for she arrogantly treated them as simple clods who were beneath her before, and their memories are long.  No longer young, gone to fat, she is prone to rages and lashing out at everything – the tallow candles which replaced rich beeswax, the humble fare which replaced dainty imported viands, the traders still offering her books she can no longer afford to buy, old grievances both real and imagined ... and, secretly, the god she is sure betrayed her.  Only two teenage acolytes still serve her, and that for a roof over their heads and a decent meal – she has driven the others away.  The Learned is a lay priestess without supernatural powers, but is a skilled scholar and theologian, a good public speaker (when she doesn't lose it and harangue her congregants for their failings), and a fair physician.  

4) Statue Seller: Industriously, Sabek (Merchant-11) salvaged numerous small statues and busts from the ruins, and peddles them as antiquities to credulous buyers.  Most are quite fine (barring the occasional chip, scratch or fracture), and a number are made of valuable materials such as porphyry, jadeite, alabaster and the like.  He emulates the perceived manner of the itinerant traders, and believes that he is a champion hustler.  The traders, in return, treat him with bemused condescension.

This shop, as well as #5 through #8, are exterior stalls, made of scrap wood and felted overhangs and drops.  The degree to which they’re open is weather-dependent.

5) Tailor/tentmaker: Melev (Sewing-14) is a young fellow, lean, pious, bespectacled and diligent, sure that if he just works hard and keeps on working hard, he will Get Ahead, and so be allowed to marry the agemate of his dreams.  While he sews the simple caftans, vests and peaked hats of the area, and will copy non-local garments if he’s allowed to take them apart for templates, where he really shines is in tentmaking, using felt from the goats.  Melev’s pyramid tents are sturdy, warm and shed water admirably – if you don’t mind the weight – and it only takes him a week to make one.  (However, the itinerant traders value his tents highly, and one might have to pay a surcharge to bump one in the queue.)  He will also add colorful abstract appliques or embroidery to the tents, and indeed works in one set up in this location.

6) Provisioner: Sonsy and middle-aged, Khautyn is the friendliest, most outgoing local the PCs might encounter, short of Kenesh.  She prepares sausages (Cooking-13, Merchant-12) from goats, from game the hunters bring in, and from other sources best left unmentioned.  The sausages are of good quality for what they are, and keep well on the road – the more sensible traders scoop up as many as she might have available.  If she lacks sausages, what she also has available in profusion is Good Advice, which she’ll dole out to patrons asked for or not.  Her eldest daughter Indigo is a goatherd, and the light of Melev’s (#5) eye, affections she reciprocates.

7) Leatherworker: Alpa is a slender young woman (Leatherworking-13, Artist/tooling-15), with fierce hawk-like features and an intense manner.  Her work is in saddle- and tackmaking, and she readily does repairs of trail gear, which occupies much of her time.  She can do other work – and does very nice tooling in abstract patterns – but only slowly, and the other calls on her time interrupt.  Apparently deeply affected by the burnings, she’s manifesting an odd syndrome: an inability to draw inferences or conclusions from a statement.  For instance, you can tell her, “I’m down to my last dozen silver sinvers,” but she won’t be able to get from there to “... and that means I can’t pay you much for the work.”  The other villagers are aware of the issue, and try to look out for her as best as they can; Khautyn the sausage maker especially will keep an eye out.

8) Cartwright: Labrys and his two teenage children (all that survived of his family) are kept busy repairing the wagons of the traders; he is skilled enough and honest that traders will stagger well out of their way to cadge a repair (Carpentry-14).  They are also available for general carpentry as needed, but if they’re otherwise idle, they’re busy making a wall-sided wagon, sturdy and sound.  (If the PCs need a wagon, the gang is within a day of finishing it, and while Labrys himself has no more use for gold than the average St. Chanan’s local, the traders will willingly take the gold and play middleman, delivering to Labrys such goods as he might find useful.)  Not quite to the point of sullenness in dealing with outsiders, the cartwright will only talk about business, and that in little more than monosyllables.

9) Several small canvas-and-scrap stalls are arrayed from here to the gatehouse, and reserved for villagers who have anything to sell: mostly produce, in season, but also cheeses, handcrafts, gathered herb bundles, and the like.  For anything that would be sold in bulk, the villagers negotiate directly with the traders.

10) The Moon and Goat: The settlement’s tavern has a crudely painted sign depicting a goat taking a bite out of a moon.  Its interior is a jackdaw’s mix of furnishings from the old donjon and crudely fashioned tables and chairs from scrap wood; the bar itself is the high table from the old Great Hall, of wrought mahogany and baroquely carved.  It would be worth a great sum if it hadn’t been cut in half, lengthwise, for the purpose, and the usual reaction of traders seeing it for the first time is a pained groan.  (They groan a fair bit harder upon hearing that the rest of the table was chopped up for firewood and table legs.)  The Goat is a relatively convivial place, where the traders take their meals and swap tales of the road.  Any villagers patronizing it of an evening are likely to have a looser tongue than usual.

The story above is divided into living quarters for the proprietor’s family, as well as four small private rooms for rental.  Only two have windows – arrow slits, really – and all are equipped with rope-frame beds with mattresses stuffed with goat’s wool, nightstands, water jugs and chamberpots.  Simple locks (+2 to pick) were salvaged from elsewhere within the fortification.  There is a small copper bathtub, but hauling and heating water takes some doing, and baths are pricey.  

The fare is relatively simple: goat cheeses, goat stews with root vegetables, sausages, barley flatbreads.  The one leavening in the mix is that the hill country produces culinary herbs in profusion, so the stews are well-seasoned, and they can be seasoned to taste if the tavernkeeper is warned in advance.  Barley beer and herbal teas make up the great majority of the drinks; wines and spirits must be brought in, and at a stiff premium.  Stews are served in stoneware bowls salvaged from the donjon, and eaten with the flatbreads – the bowls were once valuable, with fine glazes and decorative scenes – but are chipped and cracked from constant tavern use.  (If magically repaired, they could fetch a fine price.)

A couple times a week, locals provide entertainment.  Instrumentalists include goat-skin hand drums, wooden flutes, and a fretless five-stringed instrument resembling a guitar.  Otherwise, there is an epic poem revolving around the heroic deeds of the locals’ forebears.  Most villagers have memorized some of the poem, and a couple pride themselves on knowing all of it: there are over ten thousand verses, and getting through it all would take months.

Beyaza is the tavernkeeper (Innkeeper-13), a quiet middle-aged woman with a talent for unobtrusiveness and blending into the background.  She will tend to a customer’s needs with little comment, and respond laconically and evasively to questions.  Her family are cooks and servers, and in case of any trouble, the one closest to the door will slip out and – in order – roust the mercenaries in the gatehouse, the blacksmith, and any other villagers available.

Talo has rented one of the rooms for a couple months now.  He dresses simply, openly carries long knives (Knife-15), and is a short, wiry fellow with abrupt, jittery mannerisms.  Talo doesn’t have any visible profession, isn’t interested in work, but pays his tab every week in good silver ... or else goes out to the traders’ row and buys something the tavern could use in lieu of the same.  He’ll engage in jocular, neutral conversation, but reacts angrily to any personal questions, including when he’ll move on (“None of your damn business”) or whether he intends to stay indefinitely (“You hear me the first time, pal?”).

11) Ruined Donjon: What’s left of the donjon is a stub, consisting of the first story – the rest of the rubble was sold off as building stone and carted away.  The practical villagers use the ruin to pen up their goat herds during the night, toss them garbage generated within the compound to eat, and use the droppings to manure their fields.  The goats are used for dairy and their wool, and excess kids are slaughtered for meat.

12) Garden: The broad oval space is a tightly landscaped community garden, where the locals grow vegetables and herbs.  There is barely enough space to walk between plots, and the villagers are intolerant of outsiders breaking the perimeter (fenced by large stones from the donjon).  A couple youths bearing switches are tasked with keeping goats and other draft animals out.  The fortification’s well is at the southeast corner.

PERSONALITIES

The villagers generally have a reasonable spread of crafts (generally at skill -12/-13), for PCs who want to avail themselves of the same: basket weavers, tapestry/quiltmakers, charcoalers, cheesemakers, fletchers, brewers.  They’re usually willing to hire out for it, as long as it doesn’t impede the work of herding or farming.

Bekova (Area Knowledge/Crossbow-16, Survival/Traps-14) is a representative hunter and trapper, who brings in meat for the locals, and trades hides and furs to the itinerant peddlers.  She is lean, quick, good in the field, a crack shot with a crossbow, and mingles as little as possible.  All know that she’s the one to speak to as far as knowledge and conditions of a 15-mile diameter area around St. Chanan’s, but pinning her down is hard, and she’s seldom interested in dealing, unless a party has magical aids to hunting they can offer her.

Dastan is the local cunning man, a masterful forager, and the one to go to for medicinal herbs (Magery/1 (ceremonial), Naturalist-14, Herbalist-15).  He is a sardonic, sometimes sarcastic aging fellow with little tolerance for fools, but is one of the only villagers willing to take gold or valuables as payment.  Dastan also has magical powers on the hedge-witch level, mostly in simple illusions, communing with animals, finding lost items and minor scrying, but doing so takes a lot out of him.  The locals hold him in a superstitious awe, for they fear his curses.

A representative trader is “Master” Argelle (Merchant/Intelligence Analysis-14, Fast-Talk-15), who passes herself off as an alchemist, selling a medicinal tonic of her devising. Argelle’s Famous Tonic is touted to help what ails a person (although she doesn’t make specific, explicit claims that might come back to haunt her) and to promote general health and growth.  Her sales patter is masterful, entertaining and popular, and her demeanor is warm and caring.  Argelle runs a circuit, moving around the region in a loop taking about a season; she stops here at St. Chanan’s to rest up for a week at a time, not being as young as she used to be.  The Tonic is bitter herbs and honey with a stiff alcohol content, but her real purpose is as an agent of one of the warring border nations, scouting around the area, and bearing confidential messages for the nation’s intelligence apparat.


ADVENTURE HOOKS

* There are credible rumors that the war is about to resume.  Having accepted a few too many of those otherwise unsellable pieces of jewelry, weapons and magical trinkets, the villagers seek to hire the party with them as short-term mercenaries to stiffen the defenses.  The value of the goods they offer are roughly twice what the going rate for the mercenary work would be ... if the party survives to cash them in.

* One of the heirs approaches the party.  There’s been nothing to indicate that the secret vault beneath the donjon was ever found, either by the invaders or the villagers.  The heir is sure there’s portable treasure in there, and is willing to hand over a blueprint of the donjon indicating the right spot for a 50:50 split of whatever’s found.  How the party pulls it off is their business.  (How they will manage with the fact that the heir doesn't have an undisputed legal right to the goods, and that the other heirs will be on the warpath if they find out, is also their business.)

* The lawsuit’s been settled; the castle has a new legal owner.  While the new Lady of the manor wants to get her fief in order and is not unwilling (within her finite means) to help the villagers rebuild, they are all squatters and she wants them out of the fortification.  She offers to pay the party well to drive them out and keep them out until she and her entourage arrive.  A city-bred agent of the Lady will travel with the party to do the talking, and will prove supercilious and dismissive of “country folk” and their customs.

* A villager is dead certain that one of the party was in the attacking force that torched her home, laughing as her screaming family burned to death inside.  She means to make certain the PC is dead ... as cruelly as possible, however she can manage.

* A band of slavers/bandits thinks St. Chanan’s would make a very handy base of operations, and that they can just scoop up traders.  They’re either there and in control when the party arrives, or strikes when the party is there.