offerings

Watching Chainsaw Man, thinking about Alex’s discussion of designing adventures around spells (and the vagueness of OSE’s phantasmal force) and well as Deeper in the Game’s magic items and philosophy behind them.

These are two abilities PCs can pick up; I would consider putting them at the end of their own adventures, seeding them in as treasure, or making them the result of magic research. I would think they’d fit most into what characters can do around level 5 (the Snake can do 5d6 damage in a very similar manner to lightning bolt, plus a bunch of other mean bullshit, but only a very limited number of times). They also require the DM to commit to particular kinds of games (not being too wishy-washy about how much time has passed for the Snake, making sure that a looming threat of social violence eventually gets acted on). The Snake also assumed that enemies have 1d8-sized HD; it becomes too strong if HD are 1d6 (so just bump its damage die size down to d4, I guess)

I would also think about making these count against follower limits imposed by Charisma, since someone cutting creepy deals is offputting and it categorizes them as a social relationship mechanically.

You could also drop these in at level 1 as a DM if you were comfortable to running the kind of game where the consequences of how PCs solve problems really matters. If anything goes in the dungeon, then these are just strong and creepy (which is fine); if a bunch of scrubs punching a hole through the local dragon subjects them to all kinds of troublesome scrutiny, then these are much more interesting.

I don’t imagine the Snake or the Foxes as having much explanation in the world; they are cruel and unfamiliar things that have an unknowable interest in a particular PC.

The Snake

Congratulations. You have formed a contract with the Snake. You may sacrifice one of your fingernails to give it a single command. You do not know why the Snake wants your fingernails. It probably just enjoys hurting you.

Photograph of a snake skeleton arranged in a spiral
Year of the Snake by Shenhung Lin CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Any time the Snake’s damage is mentioned, use 5d6. For each fingernail you give it, add +1 to the roll. For each creature it devours with more HD than it has damage dice, add 1d6 to the roll. For example, if you have given it 3 fingernails, its damage is 5d6+3. If it successfully devours a 7 HD wereboar, its damage increases to 6d6+3. 

The Snake can only materialize in places within your line of sight and within earshot of your voice. The Snake materializes without fanfare or sound for the briefest moment to perform the acts you command before vanishing.

On your turn, you can command the Snake to do any of the following. 

  • Snake, strike. You can simply tell the Snake to attack. It can attack a single target, or all creatures in a 100’ by 5‘ line. The line can originate from any point in range and has the orientation of your choice. The attack deals the Snake’s damage, Save (vs Magic) to take half damage. If this attack deals more damage than ½ their maximum HP, they must Save (vs Magic) again or the attack will kill them instantly as the Snake carves a hole through their body.
  • Snake, devour. You can tell the Snake to devour a single creature. This deals the Snake’s damage, Save (vs Magic) to take half damage. If this damage exceeds their maximum HP, the Snake successfully devours them, and can vomit them up as a separate favor. If this does not reduce the enemy to 0 HP, they stick in the Snake’s craw for a moment before it dematerializes. This annoys the Snake, and the next favor you ask of it requires an additional fingernail. It will tell you if it thinks it will not be able to devour a creature before it takes the fingernail.
  • Snake, release. You can tell the Snake to vomit up an enemy it has devoured for you. This enemy has ½ their normal HP and 10 AC, but retains all other abilities and statistics and acts as your perfectly loyal follower. It dissolves into oily smoke when reduced to 0 HP or the fingernail you sacrificed for it finishes growing back.
  • Snake, destroy. You can tell the Snake to obliterate a tube of solid, non-magical matter up to 100 ft in length and 5 ft in diameter. The tube can be in any shape or configuration (a cylinder, a spiral, a torus). The Snake obliterates this material by traveling through it; if it encounters a creature, it will deal its damage to them as if it had attacked and then immediately vanish (leaving the job of destroying the object or volume incomplete).

At any time you or an ally in range are about to take damage (after the attack is declared but before any dice are rolled)

  • Snake, protect. You can tell the Snake to block the attack. Roll its damage, then deduct incoming damage by that amount. If it does not negate all damage, its physical body is destroyed, which it will spend many mortal lifetimes regenerating. It is in your best interest to be dead by then.

Fingernails

Trace your hands (or at least your fingers) on the back of your character sheet and draw on fingernails. Whenever you offer one to the Serpent, right the in-game date you used it, so it’s easy to remember you’re missing it (and also to make it easier to remember when it grows back)

Though it always hurts more than you expect when the Snake claims a fingernail, no matter how many times it happens, you find your reaction oddly muted: no desire to flinch or cringe or clutch your hand. The Snake is particular and precise, and so the wound is nearly nonexistent; there is minimal bleeding and no trauma to the tissue. The Snake simply makes you unwhole. This is also what it does when it attacks your enemies. 

The Snake always leaves your nail matrix perfectly intact, so that you can grow more fingernails for it to claim. It takes six months in-game months for a fingernail to grow back. If your game has downtime turns where there is a change of a random event, six of those will do.

If you need to call the Snake and have no fingernails left, there is no cause for concern. Perhaps there is something else you could offer instead?

The Foxes

Oh dear. You have formed a contract with the Foxes. Decide how many out of the five of them you have made a contract with, here and now. For each one, someone in your future will tell you a disastrous and believable lie, even if it contradicts their own nature and they believe they have no reason to deceive you. Everyone has a reason now, and it is the Foxes.

You can now command any number of Foxes to create illusions. Assigning more Foxes to an illusion increases the number of people it can deceive and the number of senses it can manipulate. Targets of an illusion may make a Save (vs Magic) to avoid being deceived, with a penalty equal to the number of Foxes assigned to the illusion. On a successful Save, they realize something is pushing and pulling at their mind.

No. of FoxesNo. of Targets
11
22
3~5
4~10
5~20

Foxes are fickle and lazy. When you create an illusion, roll 1d6 for each Fox you assign to its creation. For each die that comes up a 1-3, one of your Foxes loses interest in helping you until your next downtime, preventing you from commanding them until then.

The Foxes do not accompany you on your adventures. However, your shadow, reflection, and appearance to other in dreams sometimes seem to have yellow eyes, sharp teeth, or perhaps a bushy and poorly concealed tail.

Illusions

Illusions can deceive senses in any way you please. You can make a target perceive something that does not exist at all, like a person or a wall. Illusions can move and act, such as an illusory wave fluttering in the breeze or an illusory person conversing and moving around (though it’s just the Foxes acting behind the scenes, of course). 

You can also alter perception: wholly occlude someone’s vision, make an ally in their sight look like someone else, or prevent them from perceiving a particular person or object. You can also do something like make someone’s voice sound higher or lower, or make it sound like everything they say is an insult. 

Illusions exist purely in the perception of their targets, but are shared amongst targets; an illusion brings a single, attenuated reality into being for those its deceives. For example, if one illusion affects two enemies, they must both perceive the same event unfolding. You could not make one enemy see an illusory dragon and the other see an illusory tree. You could create an illusion that depicts both or either, however. You could also set two groups of Foxes on two different illusions, though this would  take more rounds if you are in combat and  the individual illusions would not be able to deceive as many senses.

You can give false solidity to an illusion with the sense of touch. This does not allow illusions to support weight. For example, the victim of an illusion can’t walk through an illusory wall if the illusion deceives their sense of touch, but they would fall through illusory stairs. An illusory gale that includes the sense of touch would make its victim stumble and fall, but it could never lift them off the ground or propel them.

If an illusion ends up depicting something impossible (someone falls through solid-feeling illusory stairs, for example, or an illusory dragon picks them up with painful and powerful claws and then they are not actually lifted off the ground), the victim who witnesses the paradox may make a Save (vs Magic) to see overcome the illusion, thus losing all perception of it but experiencing stark reality once again. If they fail, they will confabulate the paradox away.

You can perceive your illusions and underlying reality simultaneously and without confusion. Illusions last until they wholly leave your perception.

Example

You have a contract with four of the Foxes, having decided five grievous lies in your life would be too many. You encounter a party of six goblins who seem like they might attack you. You command three of your foxes to deceive them with an illusion; you decide the illusion should impact sight, sound, and touch and affect five of the goblins. You tell three of your foxes to make it appear in the sight of five of the goblins that the sixth has drawn his weapon and attacked his fellow. The five deceived goblins see the sixth raise his club and strike; they feel the splatter of blood. The false target feels the impact of the club and the sound of it crunching his bones. The goblins gang up on the false attacker, and then begin brawling amongst themselves.

watched by the waters, watched by the sky

Been playing around with Mageblade, and I quite like it. Working on more monsters for that community-building game, and the system has been a good fit. 

I made these with their relationship with a community of people in mind–the kingfisher spirits might steal fish from the players and their village, but they could also be bribed into helping them sail, for example. The monsters are also the source of potential local taboos–ringing bells in the woods might attract moon beasts, for example, or gutting fish might lead to the local deities noticing and stealing them. I also designed them so that they could be plugged into the magic system, Pokemon-style, but that’s another post.

Major inspirations are Mushishi, Shin Megami Tensei and Bloodborne.

from shin megami tensei IV apocalypse





 Two house rules to keep in mind:

  • If a monster does something they’re good at, roll under their Aptitude. If they do something they’re bad at, roll under half their Aptitude. Use the tags in their stat blocks to help you decide what they’re good and bad at. Unless otherwise stated, monsters are always good at fighting.
  • Spirits appear as a mirage-shimmer to people with +1 Wisdom modifier and can be fully observed by people with +2 Wisdom modifier or more.

Wind Spirits

Wind spirits can raise, banish, strengthen, weaken, or redirect wind in line of sight. The maximum strength of the wind they can control depends on their level.


sylphids
spirit | small | graceful | fast | perceptive | weak | foolish
Level 1 (4 hits), Defense 0, Aptitude 10, Damage 1d4
Ability Magnitude Gentle breezes
Young wind gods, cat-sized and blue-green, singing with a voice like a panpipe. They are like the glimpse of a kingfisher out of the corner of your eye, even when you manage to look at it directly. They love gifts of ribbons and fresh fish–they congregate in a great viridian haze when the scent of fish blood is strong in the air.


sylphs
spirit | graceful | fast | perceptive | violent | foolish
Level 3 (12 hits), Defense 1, Aptitude 12, Damage 1d6
Ability Magnitude Stiff breezes and lesser winds.
Minor wind gods, hound sized, a confusion of emerald-blue wings, calling out in a clear contralto. They are like the reflection of a great kingfisher in troubled water, an elfin face peering out of its mouth, sometimes walking like a bird, sometimes walking like a human. They love rare flowers, jewelry of any sort, and the flesh of fish from the deepest sea. They can be seen whirling around leviathans that have risen to the surface, looking for a chance to eat.


greater sylphs
spirit | graceful | fast | perceptive | cunning | beautiful | hungry
Level 5 (20 hits), Defense 2, Aptitude 14, Damage 1d8
Ability Magnitude Powerful gusts and lesser winds
True wind gods, human sized, wings unfolding like petals on a blooming flower, watchful eyes peering from the center. They can take the shape of a beautiful human of indeterminate gender, or else a tempest of cerulean and green wings and flashing beak and claws. They desire the true names of islands, exquisite treasures, and the flesh and blood of sacred fish. They appear singly when artifacts are excavated or when sea-gods make themselves known, looking for a chance to steal or feast.


high sylphs
spirit | large | graceful | fast | perceptive | cunning | beautiful | hungry
Level 7 (28 hits), Defense 3, Aptitude 16, Damage 1d10
Ability Gales and lesser winds.
Elder wind gods, bigger than a draft horse, like a dream of a kingfisher in flight, a corona of wings and feathers that recalls the motion of waves and the arc of sea-spray. In human shape, they are gorgeous giants, but they can also take the form of a flock of brilliant kingfishers or an enormous kingfisher crowned and jeweled.


Ora Marin, the Kingfisher God
spirit | huge | graceful | fast | perceptive | cunning | beautiful | hungry
Level 10 (40 hits), Defense 4, Aptitude 18, Damage 1d12
Ability Whirlwinds and any lesser wind.
The God of Wind-Over-Water. His wings are beyond counting. He moves like a stormcloud of azure feathers or a wave of green iridescence through the sea or a golden-crowned kingfisher with wings to block the Sun. As a human, he is a crowned  dancer, raising fair winds with his fan of blue feathers and sea-oat, whipping up foul winds with his fan of green feathers and palmetto frond.


Moon Spirits
Moon spirits can shed soft white light or summon a pall of darkness. The intensity of the brightness or darkness depends on their level.


elvers
spirit | tiny | slow | wise | hungry | gullible
Level 1 (4 hits), Defense 0, Aptitude 10, Damage 1d4
Ability Range As far as light shed by a candle
Larval moon gods, small enough to fit in your cupped hands. They are something like a white-furred moth and something like a flower blossom, always reduced to a milky silhouette as if occluded by mist. They are delighted by the ringing of bells, the scent of burning incense, and warm spilt blood.


elving-children
spirit | small | graceful | wise | hungry | gullible
Level 3 (12 hits), Defense 1, Aptitude 12, Damage 1d6
Ability Range As far as light shed by a torch
Moon god nymphs, the size of a small dog. They are gracile, fronded, petaled, and winged, with wet human eyes concealed in their folds like pearls in a mound of silk, everything blurred as if by a haze of water. They adore the pealing of bells, the scent of burning sacrifice, and spilt lifeblood, which they lick with deep red tongues.


elves
spirit | small | graceful | wise | hungry | cunning | gullible
Level 5 (20 hits), Defense 2, Aptitude 14, Damage 1d8
Ability Range As far as light shed by a campfire
Imago moon gods, the size of a child. They are thin, pale, sharp-toothed, four-armed, moving as easily on all limbs as their hind legs, and human-like when standing, with a ruff of white hyphae on their heads and necks, a cape of flower petal wings that unfold from their backs, revealing wet raw flesh like the meat beneath a fish’s gill. They are attracted to the tolling of great bells, the burning of the living, and those near death, who they kill and drain of blood if they are able.


from bloodborne

elving-beasts

spirit | large | graceful | wise | hungry | cunning
Level 7 (28 hits), Defense 3, Aptitude 16, Damage 1d10
Ability Range As far as light shed by a bonfire
Elder moon gods, the size of a stag. They are pale creatures of gossamer and bone, their many thin limbs concealed behind luxurious effusions of white hyphae, their fronded flower wings trailing like a veil, concealing the gills-slits on their back. They swim as swiftly as they fly and run, but wherever they are, the sounding of old ritual bells, the sudden deaths of many, and living sacrifices prepared in accordance with the ancient agreements draw their attention without fail.


Moon Orphan, the Abandoned God
spirit | huge | graceful | wise
Level 10 (40 hits), Defense 4, Aptitude 18, Damage 1d12
Ability Range A light like the full moon or a darkness like the new, as far as the eye can see
The terrible God of Moonlight, luminous, fronded, billowing. It drives its immense and delicate body through the deepest waters or celestial heights with uncountable limbs, shedding gently glowing clouds through its blue-lipped sporangia, singing lunar hymns through uncountable mouths in communion with the Moon, guiding it through its course in the sky and the cycle of its phases.

hocus pocus

An open-ended magic system I’m going to use for my simplified 5e game, but you could pretty easily hack it for most D&D-likes. Owes a lot to Pearce’s 5e ritual system.

A warlock or cleric can perform a ritual to achieve nearly any effect, as long as it pertains to a Ritual Court they belong to. The casting time of a ritual depends on its intensity, value, and utility; the more expensive and difficult the ritual’s effects would be to achieve using mundane means, the longer it takes to perform the ritual.

by Berta Lum

A ritual’s difficulty is determined by the value of the goods or services it replicates. Warlocks make a CHA check and clerics make a WIS check.

If it’s no dearer than a copper piece: DC 12 and take a Turn
If it’s no dearer than a silver piece: DC 14 and take an hour
If it’s no dearer than a gold piece: DC 16 and take a day
If it’s no dearer than a platinum piece: DC 18 and take a week
If it can’t be had for love or money: DC 20 and take a month, from new moon to full

As an example, if a Annie Oleander of the Ritual Court of Ash wants to kill a rival from afar, she might decide to fill his house with poisonous smoke. Because hiring an assassin to kill someone costs more than a gold piece, she must pass a DC 18 Charisma check and take a week. Unburning a spent torch, on the other hand, would only take a Turn and require a DC 12 check , because a torch can be bought for a copper.

Duration
A ritual’s effect has a usage die that represents its duration. Each time the ritual’s effects are used or strained in some way, check the die. Ritual effects are fleeting and the die should be checked frequently; a ritual-created sword might be checked every time it is used, while a golem created by a ritual might be checked every time it takes damage. The poisonous smoke Annie Oleander conjured would be checked every time her victim finished reciting a Bible verse or opened a window for ventilation.

The sacrifice a cleric or warlock offers as part of a ritual determines the size of the ritual’s usage die:

  • 1d4: requires nothing
  • 1d6: 1d6 HP in blood, a favor that takes a brief part of a session, or a component worth at least a copper piece
  • 1d8: 1d8 HP in blood, a favor that takes the better part of a session, or a component worth at least a silver piece
  • 1d10: 1d10 HP in blood, a favor that takes an entire session, or a component worth at least a gold piece
  • 1d12: 1d12 HP in blood, a favor that takes several sessions, or a component worth at least a platinum piece

The Ritual Courts

  1. Ash
  2. Mud
  3. Grass
  4. Corpses
  5. Beasts
  6. The Sun
  7. The Moon
  8. The Dark 

 

    the earth does not want you

    hey guys. it’s certainly been a while. i’ve been thinking about a weird fantasy florida, recently, out in the palm scrub, where everything is mean and sharp and unfriendly and unnavigable and really kind of beautiful in a careless sort of way.

    sinner
    her flesh moves like fire on her bones, her hair roils like a plume of smoke from her head, her feet barely touch the water as she strides across it and you smell the black magic in the air: hot metal and raw meat and ozone.

    • Each sinner knows a random cleric spell with a level equal to their HD. They can cast it at will.
    • Sinners cannot cross lines of salt or enter holy ground or consecrated buildings like churches, and they must flee the sounds of church bells and calls to prayer as if they had failed a Morale check.
    • Sinners can walk on water, walls, and ceilings; they are supernaturally light when it suits them, and any surface or structure that can support the weight of a crow will also support a sinner.

    corpse
    they are pale, luxuriously dressed in black veils and black lace, they move in groups of two or three, they dart about close to the ground in the edges of your vision. they never seem to be what they should, seeming to be very large and very far away, or else very small and very close; you always have to reach farther than you think to strike them with your weapon, but they can just raise their hand and touch you all the same.

    • Each corpse can cast a random magic-user spell with a level equal to their HD. They can cast it at will.
    • If a corpse sees an open grave (dug for the purposes of burying someone, at least 6 feet deep, a burial marker at the head of the grave), it must climb inside and lie down. If it hears properly recited funeral rites (INT check and a round of effort), it must make a Morale check. Corpses cannot cross lines of salt.
    • As long as nobody can see its point of departure or arrival, a corpse can teleport to any location in 120′.

    palm devil
    a figure standing at the edge of the pines, a little too tall to be human, the contours of its body beneath its ragged coat too long and slender, it’s holding a palmetto frond in front of its face, and when it turns to you, all the leaves on all the trees as far as you can see rattle, malicious and filled with volition

    • a palm devil’s face is indescribable; should anyone see it they must Save vs Magic or become Feebleminded. They will transform into a sinner by midnight of the following Sunday unless restored by Remove Curse.
    • Can cast Gust of Wind, Move Earth, and Plant Growth twice each per fight.
    • Can fly by riding its palm frond.
    • In a palm devil’s hands, a palm frond functions as a vorpal axe and can easily cut through any mundane substance.

    venomous augury
    someone has nailed a huge rattlesnake to the trunk of a dead pine tree at regular intervals, tied lengths of red silk to each nail head. it looks at you with wet human eyes and tells you something horrible.

    • the venomous augury knows everything, probably. A player can ask it anything and it will give them the true answer. This can amount to a wish–ask it where the elixir of eternal life it, and it will tell you, whether or not there was an elixir before you asked. However, every answer introduces an evil equal in influence or power to the wealth or knowledge being sought. Ask “where is the woman who will save the world?” and the augury is liable to answer “in the house of the man who will one day destroy it”
    • once someone has asked the augury a question, it forevermore appears to them as a stinking dead rattlesnake grotesquely nailed to a tree.

    prophet of mud
    a huge hairless face emerges from the muck in front of you. it does not bother to turn its head, but swivels its bulging yellow eyes towards you as it begins to hum a hymn

    • the prophet of mud is a third level cleric and knows Bless, Command, and Augury and can cast spells from its head or its hands.
    • the prophet can emerge from any body of mud. it can reach its hands up from any body of mud or murky water that is contiguous with the mud it head is in.
    • the prophet’s head and two hands get their own turn in the initiative order. it can only see what its head sees, naturally, but will feel things out with one hand to help the other.
    • the prophet can spend a round singing hymns to cast Rock To Mud at will.

    mother
    there is a mother deep beneath the earth, she once had a shell of many hard plates and swam with many sharp legs and saw with a constellation of many watchful eyes. she died long ago, when this land was still a sea, but she is still here, she is a hollow in the bedrock far below, a long spiral in the dark. sometimes she tells the land what it used to be, and when she does it listens.

    photos by me

      here in the house of death

      a few gods with a focus on the way they interact with people and the way their worshipers perceive them. also, a demihuman race-as-species you should be able to slot in to most nearly any game. i tried to make it play distinctly from human characters without demanding a lot of buy in from players. borrowed some of the d&d language as word game rules in this dungeon of signs post.

      Heche Ke Eche
      Mama Muerte, The Sheikha of the Dead

      The first of the living to die, and the first of the dead to return to the Lands of the living. Pray to Heche Ke Eche to raise the dead, speak with the deceased, or save someone from death’s door. She is cruel, wise, patient, a friend to the dispossessed and an enemy of the arrogant. She likes rum, cash, cigars, and prefers her shrines and temples gaudy and personal.

      Worshipers of Heche Ke Eche pray like this: “Oye mama, I have a favor to ask you…” Praying to Heche Ke Eche is like asking your mom for money. Her most devout followers are scrupulously casual and try to never be impressed with anything. If they do not bow and scrape to their own goddess, why should they worry too much about you?
      El Grangúl
      Papa Fin, the Sheikh of the Dead

      Built the wall between the Lands of the Living and the Lands of the Dead. Pray to El Grangúl to exorcise ghosts, keep the dead in their graves, and your ancestors out of your business. He is orderly, condescending, charitable, and an enemy to liars. He likes sacramental wine (you can sometimes get him to bend the laws of nature if he’s drunk enough), golden doubloons, flowers, and prefers his shrines and temples symmetrical and carefully tended.

      Worshipers of El Grangúl pray like this: “Permiso, padre, I have something to ask you…” Praying to El Grangúl is like admitting to your dad you did something stupid. His most devout followers keep records of their prayers in black-bound ledgers, so that they always remember what their patron has done for them.

      The Gunsaints
      Sabata, Sartana, & Django; the Calamity Three; Pistoleros Santos

      The three best sharpshooters in the history of Labyrinthium; they killed each other in a three-way standoff and then banded together in a mythical shootout with Death itself. Now they are a tripartite demidivinity with power over Gunmetal, Gunpowder, and Lead. Pray to the Gunsaints to see your bullets fly true, to ruin the weapons of your enemy, and to successfully complete a mission of vengeance. The Gunsaints like bullets, antique guns, and personal mementos, and prefer shrines constructed in moments of desperation.
      Worshipers of the Gunsaints pray like this: “I swear by the three I’ll kill this motherfucker dead.” Praying to the Gunsaints makes you feel fierce and sick and angry. Their most devout followers carry three guns, one for each saint, so that they can better understand the act of murder.

      Other gods: Hatüey No-saint, Caracaracol, Shams del Sur, Al-Ra’ad al-Kasif, The Queen of Sheba

      The Cats of New Barbary
      A race for old school Dungeons and Dragons

      The Cats of New Barbary are not cats at all, but something like a leopard, something like an Old Barbary macaque, with clever clawed hands and yellow lamplike eyes. They stand three feet tall when crouched on all fours, and can walk on two, though they don’t like to. They aren’t quite as intelligent as humans, and they struggle to speak. The Cats of New Barbary often live in ruins claimed by the jungle, but they can integrate into human society surprisingly well–several regional saints are Cats, and an infamous New Barbary crime boss is one as well.

      Cats of New Barbary can be clerics, thieves, or fighters. They cannot be magic-users.

      • The Cats of New Barbary cannot wear armor heavier than leather regardless of class, and it costs twice as much to fit their inhuman frames. They cannot wield weapons, but their unarmed attacks deal d6 damage.
      • They cannot use scrolls or magic items, regardless of class, but there are a few methods for making their claws bypass supernatural immunities.
      • They can climb any surface a human could conceivably scale, and they do not need equipment or a skill check to do it.
      • They can run twice as fast when on all fours, but they can’t carry anything in their hands when doing so.
      • The Cats of New Barbary have a powerful sense of smell, and can track a scent they know as a bloodhound (4 in 6 chance of success).
      • Outside of New Barbary, the Cats do not enjoy the same legal rights as humans, and Cats unaccompanied by humans are frequently kidnapped, bought, sold, murdered, and chased away without repercussion.
      • The Cats of New Barbary can understand language as well as any human, but a Cat can only speak a number of words equal to its Intelligence score. These are chosen at character creation, and can be from any language. All Cats of New Barbary know sign language, which lets them communicate more freely with anyone who knows it, but their capacity for self-expression is limited–they cannot use any word with more than two syllables when communicating this way.

      a god is a kind of monster

      This blog is slowly turning into an extended and not very good meditation on how clerics work, so bear with me while I get it out of my system. I’m working on some dice drop tables that could actually be of use to someone for next post. I recently did a reread of the Games With Others archives, so this post leans on Pearce’s work here.

      SO:
      Fighters solve problems with violence.
      Thieves solve problems with trickery.
      Magic-users solve problems by knowing things, or, depending on how you see it, breaking the rules.
      Clerics tend to exist in this space between  fighters and magic-users: they have okay spells and an okay capacity for violence. This is perfectly fine, but when I crunch clerics down to the aesthetic core that actually appeals to me, I get:

      Clerics solve problems by getting someone else to do it for them.

      Reading over the Original Dungeons and Dragons rules, the 2d6 reaction check was originally used to determine the outcome of transactions, rather than a more general way to figure out an NPC’s attitude towards the players. This meshes well with the idea of clerics doing things by proxy, but I think there is a better, easier, and more satisfying way to do that then my old warlock class.

      From Monstress 1. written by Marjorie Liu,, art by Sana Takeda
      Spirit Medium

      Progression
      HP, XP, attack bonus, saving throws as Cleric. Equipment restrictions as magic-user.

      Commune
      You understand and can be understood by any monster, even if you do not share a language.

      Bargain
      Influence a monster or band of allied monsters. You can do this to soothe hostile creatures or extract services from neutral to friendly ones. To Bargain, you must offer the monsters some form of payment and then make a reaction check. Mediums can only do this once per band of allied monsters per encounter. 

           2: The monster becomes hostile and attacks. If it was already hostile, it attacks the medium.
           3-5: The monster refuses the offer, or continues its current course of action.
           6-8: The monster refuses the offer, but will reconsider if the medium gives better terms.
           9-11: The monster accepts the offer.
           12: The monster accepts the offer and gives the medium its name.

      by Bertha Lum

      This is predicated on the medium offering suitable terms. Monsters pretty universally accept fresh blood (d6 HP worth for something simple like getting them to cast a 1st level spell, help in a fight, give information on the locals, or settle down if they have only a few HD, but a major secret, protection for a whole adventure, or calming a dragon could require quite a bit more); however, if the medium has an item appropriate for the monster (rare incense for a mummy, or a flower for a dryad, for example), they can use it as payment instead. These items are quite probably expensive, but they also encumber as at least 1 significant item each. Mediums can also offer to kill rivals, track down treasure, restore shrines, observe a taboo, whatever. Referees should feel free to have monsters make suggestions.

      Summon
      When you knows a monster’s true name, you can call it forth whenever you wish. Chant its name, carve its name into the ground, burn a paper doll with its name on it, whatever. A Turn later, it shows up, stepping out of a shadow, welling up out of the earth, or scuttling down from the ceiling. You can then Bargain with it.

      Miracle
      If a monster knows a spell, you can Bargain for the ability to cast it once.

      Mitsukuni Defying the Skeleton Spectre Invoked by Princess Takiyasha by Utagawa Kuniyoshi

      The way I use “monster” here presupposed a Princess Mononoke-esque animist universe where animals, gods, and monsters all sort of exist on the same spectrum. Mediums shouldn’t be able to use Bargain on a bandit (though it would be fun to put otherwise human magic-users in the monster category, now that I think about it). If you’re going for a more naturalist feel, you could limit Bargain to only explicitly supernatural critters (ghosts, djinni, elementals, etc).

      beneath the teeming heavens

      Here’s a big ole generator that makes monsters/gods that are suitable as retainers. Got the idea from this and this.

      there are a handful of gods of middling power scattered across the island of San Serafín (the Red and Gold Rebel, Dreaming Beast Al-Mi’raj, YV YN YR, but starting shamans must call out into the void and take whatever minor spirit answers.

      from persona

      GENERATING A GOD

      1. Roll 1d20 to determine the god’s stat block. All gods start with 2 HD.
      2. Roll 1d20 to determine the god’s shape
      3. Roll 1d20 to determine the god’s domain
        • A god can use its Major Power 1/day and its minor power at will.
        • Minor powers in parentheses are movement types
        • Gods can cast spells with a range of Self as Touch spells if they target their shaman
        • A god’s Aspect affects its appearance
      click to make it bigger

      GENERATING A GOD’S NAME

      1. Roll 1d4 to determine how many syllables compose the god’s name.
      2. Roll 1d100 to determine which syllables compose the god’s name.
       
       
      from final fantasy 12 revenant wings

      eat your heart out

      Queen Agorath is an incomprehensible  goddess-behemoth that resides in the hadopelagic void beneath Creation. Nobody remembers how or when she became Queen of Albion, but inquirers into that particular subject have died in sufficiently discomfiting numbers that more or less everyone has stopped trying to figure it out. By all mortal measures, the Queen is quite insane, but despite a few fits of psychotic pique every few centuries, she does a rather passable job of keeping the country running, and her mortal Council can be counted on to attend to the details that might slip her royal mind.

      Queen Agorath is the goddess of black magic and bodily transformation. Her Royal Clerics can only cast the reversed versions of reversible spells. They cannot Turn Undead, but can transform into creatures. 

      When a Royal Cleric eats a beast’s heart and succeeds a saving throw, she gains the ability to transform into that creature once per day for 10×level minutes (a number of Turns equal to her level), gaining all its powers and abilities for that time. The cleric receives a +1 bonus to her saving throw for every ritually significant step she takes while eating the heart; the Queen’s ritual sensibilities tend towards the perversely elegant and darkly sumptuous.

      from tale of tales

      Examples:

      • Eating the heart off of a plate of precious metal
      • Eating the heart while dressed in an luxurious gown
      • Incorporating the heart into exquisite confectionary
      • Being fed the heart by silent and finely-dressed servants

      Eating the heart of a creature with more hit dice than the cleric has levels does nothing. Furthermore, a cleric’s flesh can only remember so many shapes; a Royal Cleric can only learn a number of forms equal to half her level rounded up. Successfully consuming a heart while at this limit requires that she forget one of her existing forms.

      from bloodborne

      Lucifer

      Lucifer is at the bottom of every encounter table in Albion. He is in the streets and in the dungeons, in parlors and tombs and dreams. He is unfathomably evil and incalculably powerful, but not all that difficult to deal with. Lucifer is the architect of human sin and warden of every wicked soul to ever die; the idea of wanton destruction for its own pleasure lost its luster several epochs ago. Ultimately, Lucifer is bored; he is possibly the most bored being in existence. He responds well to the amusing and poorly to the tedious, and will grant a Wish to either if he thinks the results will be interesting enough. When encountered in the field, he will converse and observe, but not intervene; however, he will often agree to officiate or judge contests and wagers.

      Lucifer has stats as a Baalroch/Balrog/Balor and can cast Wish at another’s behest. In normal circumstances, he wears fine white clothes and possesses the wings of a bat. In a fight, he is as large as is convenient, though never bigger than a storm giant, and appears as an armored man bathed in excruciating actinic radiance.

      His incarnation can be destroyed for a time, but killing him in truth, if it is even possible, requires a great deal more than a simple fight. A player whose character makes a deal with Lucifer can henceforth choose Cleric of Lucifer as the class of new characters, even if the original deal-making character died.

      Clerics of Lucifer cannot cast reversed Cleric spells. They can Turn Undead as normal, allowing their patron to reclaim the fugitive souls of  the damned. Their only commandment is Don’t Be Boring.

      Cult Class(ic)

      I’ve had this idea rolling around in my head for a while, and when I saw this post by Arnold, i figured out how to fit it all together.

        GODLING

      A  race-class for Old School D&D

      HP and XP as Magic-user
      Save and Attack Bonus as Cleric
      Godlings are minor, furtive divinities unable to directly interfere with the Land of the Living and the mortals therein. Instead, they act through cults and miracles, in hopes of establishing a true religion and becoming a greater god. Godlings can look like pretty much anything (that isn’t stupid) and their size and appearance becomes progressively more impressive as they gain levels.
      SHRINES

      Godlings can perceive, speak with, and cast spells on anything near their shrines. If all of a godling’s shrines are destroyed, their connection with the Land of the Living is permanently severed (i.e. it’s time for a new character).

      1st level godlings start with a single shabby shrine in the nearest settlement. Godlings gain 1 xp for every gold piece spent on improving any of their shrines. Improvements can be aesthetic, or they can make the shrine harder to find or destroy. Godlings can also build new shrines to make themselves harder to permanently banish–establishing one costs 1000 sp and doesn’t count towards experience.

      FOLLOWERS 
      from princess mononoke

      To interact with the Land of the Living beyond their shrine, a godling needs followers to act as proxies. In any town they have a shrine, they can establish a cult. To do so, they need to formulate some sort of creed or promise for their followers. Funny clothes help, too. The total number of cultists cannot exceed the godling’s level. Cultists work like retainers, save for the following:

      • A godling can perceive through any of their cultists’ senses, communicate with them mentally, and cast spells through them 
      • Cultists will do any mundane, non-dangerous task their godling tells them to do without question, and can be trusted not to steal items or money. 
      • Cultists receive a permanent +1 to Morale for every spell their godlings casts in their presence
      • Cultists do not require payment

      Godlings still might have other worshipers, but cultists are the ones fanatic enough to put themselves at risk. Godlings can hire regular retainers, too, though they require pay and won’t sing your weird songs or wear those stupid robes. Other player characters cannot become cultists.

      MIRACLES

      Godlings can cast a number of spells equal to their level each adventure. They can cast any spell they know and begin knowing all the spells in a single school. Godlings can gain access to additional spell schools by hunting down one of their fellows in the Land of Spirits and eating them. Any spell that targets the self can instead be cast on a godling’s cultists. A godling’s spell school is a reflection of their nature:

      Devil: Diabolism
      God of Nature: Elementalism
      God of Death: Necromancy
      God of Magic: Spiritualism
      God of Travel: Translocation
      God of Dreams: Psychomancy
      God of Life: Vivimancy

      LOCALITY

      The Spirit World coincides perfectly, intangibly, and invisibly with the Land of the Living. Every location in the Spirit World has a Land of the Living analogue. Godlings can directly interact with creatures and objects in the Spirit World, so players should be explicit where their character is–a godling can function perfectly well hanging out in town, sending miracles at a distance, but they won’t be able to interfere with Spirit World obstacles for their co-adventurers if they do so.

      In any situation where a godling actually enters combat (such as when they confront another spirit or if they are pulled into the Land of the Living by a spell), they fight as a Cleric of equal level.