Friday, February 21, 2025

To Have a Share of the Earth and the Unfruitful Sea (GLOG Class: Cleric)

Artemis or Hecate, via Wikipedia
Artemis, via Wikipedia

 
 
In the base of the rocky hill on which the high citadel of the city of Orchitrave is founded, there is a cave, and that cave wends and weaves and winds its way deeper and deeper into the earth, until at last it reaches the starless grey land of the dead, where shades walk aimlessly back and forth forever. This cave is a temple of the Great Goddess. So too is the lighthouse of Balamne, which towers above all other constructions of mankind, and at whose top a great flaming beacon is lit which has burned since time immemorial and will burn evermore. So too is the vast stone circle of Nials, where women dance madly in the winter snows to bring the renewal of spring, and so are the depths of the woods, where only deer and wolf have trod since the world was young, and any place where two roads meet, and wherever the voices of children can be heard. The Great Goddess wears many faces and bears many titles, never called the same thing twice. Her name is no secret, but no man dares speak it, and the women only sing it in the most secret places for the most sacred and occulted rituals. One more thing there is that all can agree upon: in each hand she bears a torch, for she is the one who lights the way: for travelers, for seekers, for witches, for kings, for newborn babes and the shades of the dead, for hunters and hunted, for watchmen and warriors. She is alight at both ends.

Class: Amphipyros


Skills: Midwifery and 1d3: 1. Astrology, 2. Poisons, 3. Leechcraft
 
Starting Equipment: 7 torches of pitch, linen, and cypress (⅓ slots each); a bronze ritual dagger (⅓ slots, profaned by touching blood); a stone ritual dagger (⅓ slots, profaned by touching wine); a black robe (1 slot carried, 0 slots when worn, +1 stealth); a white robe (1 slot carried, 0 slots when worn, +1 save); and a loyal, intelligent dog (½ HD, 1d6 bite, excellent sense of smell).
 
A: Best and Most Beautiful, Light-Bearer, 2 Flares
B: Honor Also in Starry Heaven, +1 Flare
C: The Rotting Goddess, +1 Flare
D: Mysteries Within Mysteries, +2 Flares
 
Best and Most Beautiful: As a virgin priestess of a virgin goddess, you have +2 reaction with dogs and the god-fearing, and -1 reaction with men. If you ever enter a man's house or violate your chastity, you become ritually impure and may not use any of your abilities from this class. To purify yourself, you must sacrifice a doe, burning its fat so that it reaches the heavens, and bathe in a river under the moon. You may sacrifice an buck, pouring its blood into a pit in the earth, to learn the will of the Great Goddess. She loves cypresses, dogs, witches, and children, and hates that which all gods hate: unfaithfulness to herself and herself alone.
 
Light-Bearer: When holding a torch in your hand, you may expend a Flare to cause the torch to burst into divine flame, activating an Aura you know. The Aura lasts for as long as the torch burns (typically 6 turns/1 hour) and extends to the edge of the torchlight (typically a 30 foot radius). Only one Aura may be applied to a given torch, but after it has been activated, a torch need not be held by you or near you to apply its effect. You may prepare [templates] + 2 Auras, each of which is depleted once used (you may, of course, prepare duplicates). Flares and Auras refresh at the witching hour.
 
Honor Also in Starry Heaven: On the new moon, full moon, equinox, solstice, and when two wandering stars align, gain +1 MD for the duration of the celestial convergence. If multiple of these events coincide, the MD from each of them stack. Learn two spells, rolled on 1d8 from the list. Roll another to learn at C template, and pick one at D template. If you roll a Mishap or a Doom, the Great Goddess will decree a task for you to complete before you can draw on the heavens again.
 
The Rotting Goddess: In imitation of your goddess, you may shift your form and perception whenever it suits you. Your visage is always recognizably your own, but you might appear one moment youthful and callow, the next maidenly and fair or matronly and kind, wizened and decrepit or pallid and decaying. For extra effect, you may even bear up to three faces on one body at once, though the effort involved means that after no more than an hour of this appearance, you will revert to your original form for at least a day.
 
Mysteries Within Mysteries: You learn the deepest truths and secrets and rites of worship. If you find or commission a suitable idol and set it up in a suitable sanctuary, you may establish a temple of the Great Goddess in truth. Around it will grow up a city, and the city will prosper under her patronage and yours, for though she is a goddess of the earth, of death, of the hidden places, so too is she a goddess who stands before the gate, who protects mothers and children, who brings renewal and growth.
 
Auras:
1. That Turns Away Evil: Soft, indistinct, yet pure and all-pervading and silvery-white, like the moon on a foggy night. All spirits, shapeshifters, restless dead, and evil men must save to enter the light and have disadvantage on all saves and Morale rolls once within it. Furthermore, shapeshifters and the restless dead take 1d4 damage per round within the light and, if destroyed, have their shades put to rest and returned to whence they belong.
2. Before the Gate: Bright, cheerful, warm, and dancing to an unheard tune, like a campfire which holds the night at bay. Within the light, you and your allies have +2 to all saves, and the torch's holder may shorten the torch's life by 1 turn to reduce an instance of damage that an ally receives by 1 point.
3. Who Frequents Crossroads: Singular, precise, and distant, comforting in its solemn loneliness, like a lighthouse sighted from afar. From outside the light, its radiance is not visible, and all within the light seem but a faded grey mirage. Those within count as traveling without light for the purposes of surprising those without (5-in-6 chance of surprise), but are not so subject to surprise themselves (1-in-6 chance of surprise as normal).
4. Holding the Keys: Shimmering with brazen, silvered, gilded threads weaving and unweaving an intricate pattern, like a language that no man can speak. The first time a given lock, ward, or knot enters the light, it has a 3-in-6 chance of unlocking or unraveling. Each time a binding is so undone, the torch's life is shortened by 1 turn. If a binding is not undone, you may not attempt to burst it asunder again until you have gained a level.
5. The Best Advisor: Deep blue in the center, flaring with white pinpricks, and fading to blacker than black on the edges, like the twilit sky fading to obscure easterly night. Within the light, all magical effects are made known, twisting at the edges of vision like the shapes which dance behind your eyelids. Traps and secret doors similarly have a 4-in-6 chance to make themselves known.
6. Bowstring in Tension: Golden-bright, burning sharp in the pupil, like an arrow falling from the sun-blind sky to pierce your eye. All ranged attacks made from within the light have +1d4 to-hit, deal +1d4 damage, and have their range bands doubled.
7. Wide-Ruling: Scintillating with a thousand twinkling lights in every color imaginable, like a vast hoard of priceless jewels suddenly exposed to lamplight. Within the light, your allies have +2 Morale and are immune to fear effects so long as you stand with them.
8. Queen of the Animals: Flaring with proud green and gold like sunlight through the leaves, like wings spread wide, enfolding, protecting, taking flight. Within the light, you speak the tongue of the beasts and the birds, which also gives you +2 reaction with them. If you give them an order, they must save or obey.
9. She Who Gives Victory: Martial and proud and innumerable, like the banners of a great army marching in serried ranks to the horizon and beyond. Within the light, you and your allies have +1 AC, +1 to-hit, +1 damage, and +1 initiative.
10. Of the Wolf: Bold and crimson, hot and steaming, like entrails spilled in the snow, melting a hole in the untouched drifts with the futile strength of their will to live. Within the light, all tracks have a 10-in-10 chance to be clearly limned with intangible blood, with that chance reduced by 1 for every day since their maker left them. If the torch is totally full with life, extinguish it instantly to learn the exact direction and distance to a quarry whose name you know.
11. Singer of Divine Songs: Golden and purple and other colors not truly perceptible to the eyes of mortals, ever-shifting in realms the mind cannot comprehend, like the ichor and ambrosia and clothes and visages of the gods themselves. For every turn spent in the light, those within heal 1 HP. If accompanied by your sacred song that turn (incurring a wandering monster check), the healing increases to 1d4 HP, and each expended MD possessed by those within the light has a 1-in-6 chance of returning to their pool.
12. Bright: Brilliant beyond brilliance and clear beyond clarity, such that all who behold it are dazzled and blinded for a moment, like a star come to earth to grace us with her immortal glory. The radius of this light extends however far the wielder wishes it, even beyond the horizon should they so choose, and they may shape it into the narrowest beam or widest corona or anywhere in between. Unlike the light of any other ephemeral wavering torch, it banishes even magical darkness, and in it, all detail and color may be perceived in richness, sharpness, and clarity even greater than they might display in the most direct sunlight.
 
Spells:
1. Bestow/Remove Curse: Lay with your words a fitting curse on one who can hear you and who has done you ill. Set a just condition for its removal. If the condition is not met, the curse expires in [dice] years and [dice] days—but if cast with 4 MD or more, it is permanent. Alternatively, remove a curse from one who you touch with your bare hand. If the curse was laid by a power greater than yourself, you have a [dice]-in-6 chance of success.
2. Crown of Stars: [sum] scorching stars materialize in orbit around your head, forcing all who see you to roll Morale at -[dice] and either grovel or flee. 1 star winks out per minute since you cast the spell. At will, you may hurl any number of stars at a foe within sight, dealing 1 damage which cannot be avoided or reduced in any way.
3. Darkness: An area of your choosing, no greater than [sum] furlongs square, is instantly consumed by a cloud of utterly impenetrable blackness. Any caught within it must save vs fear or collapse to the ground wailing in despair. It lasts 1 day/1 week/1 month/1 year/forever, depending on [dice].
4. Continual Flame: Allow a flame to burn you; it will consume no fuel nor spread any further, but will cast light and heat until the end of your enchantment. It lasts 1 day/1 week/1 month/1 year/forever, depending on [dice]. This allows Auras to last far beyond their usual measure, but all Flares and prepared Auras invested in Continual Flames cannot be recovered until the flame is extinguished.
5. Speak With Dead: You may ask [sum] questions of a corpse or multiple corpses, which they will answer as truthfully as they can with what they knew in life and what little knowledge they have garnered afterwards. Alternatively, wrest control of [sum] + [dice] HD of undead with no save, for no longer than [sum] hours. If you do not return them to their rest, the Great Goddess will know, and she will punish you.
6. Lay On Hands: If used to touch someone who is about to die, they are stabilized immediately. If used to touch a permanent wound or the sufferer of an intractable disease, the wound or disease has a [dice] + 2-in-6 chance of being healed.
7. Protection from Evil: Weave a web of protection with fragrant oils and smokes costing 10 drachmae per 5 feet of circumference around a person, place, thing, or whatever else. The next [dice] times it would be crippled, destroyed, mortally wounded, invaded, or burned, it isn't.
8. Plague: Whisper horrid curses in the streets or pathways of a place where people gather. The next day, an implacable plague will strike them, killing at least [dice] × 10% of them within a fortnight.

Thursday, February 13, 2025

Heavy With the Fruit of Prophetic Dreaming (GLOG Class: Bard)

Alpine forget-me-not via Wikipedia
There is no such thing as a new story. There are but endless retellings, ripped apart and sewn together again like ransom notes from a heap of unwanted magazines. Which is to say: your life is a faded diorama of a long-forgotten poem. Perhaps, if you try your very hardest, you can weave in an age-old theme which blossoms into a million tiny perfect flowers in the light of this dying age.
 

Class: Bard

 
Starting Equipment: Every song and poem and phrase and voice and word you've ever heard.

A: Clay; +1 reaction
B: Glass; +1 HP
C: Ink; +1 save
D: Ash; +1 reaction
 
Clay: Stare into the labyrinthine depths of the cruel golden Sun. He will shrive you of your innocence and your ignorance and your staring sparkling eyes that drink up light like an alcoholic drinks spirits. In return for your gift, he will place orbs of dull unseeing clay in your scarred sockets, scriven all over with writhing skeletal runes encoding beautiful secrets you can never read. Your new eyes will be blind as the dirt from which they were ripped, but they will whisper to you always, slender insinuations of the straw-bright threads which link all things. Masters and slaves, lovers and lovers, stories and themes, spells and mages, secret doors and hidden levers: you will know the tendons which weave the world. You need but ask. If you pluck a golden thread and sing to its thrumming with your sliver-sharp voice, all who hear must save or still in fascination as tears pour down their cheeks.

Glass: Stand before the vast, uncaring Sea and bare yourself utterly. Clothes, pretenses, personae, rhetoric, skin: you must shed them all to reveal the wet, pulsing flesh beneath, the veins coursing with carmine thoughts, the intestines convulsing with love and anguish. Your audience will know you, and they will love you. In return for your gift, they will lick you all over where your skin once was, your knees and thighs and wrists and shoulders and breasts and ears. Where the tongues, foaming and salty, have been, your new skin will grow. It will be hard and transparent and cool—strictly, it will not be glass but some strange unearthly metal—but when touched by aught other than yourself, it will scorch away fabric and flesh alive in a burst of heat. All the machinery that composes you will forever be exposed to the searching eye, breathing and pumping beneath your impenetrable skin. You will be immune to external physical harm, and any who lay hands on you will take 1d6 damage per round. If someone you loves cries out in pain and you can hear it, you can choose to take the damage instead of them.

Ink: Climb atop the highest peak of the land, whether it be stone or steel, and weep joyous tragic bittersweet tears from your blind clay eyes like handfuls of glittering gem-dust thrown into the laughing Wind. Tears are not all she demands; she will blend your courage and your bones and your teeth into a slurry and drink them down with a raw egg. You don't need them, after all, with your lovely corundum shell to keep you standing and protect you from harm. In return for your gift, your heart and glands and marrow will course anew with fresh fluid, their erstwhile charges replaced with black, indelible ink. Your blood will stain your veins, your saliva will stain your tongue, your lymph will stain your nodes, your tears will stain the corners of your eyes, your urine will stain your groin, your milk will stain your nipples. The very cushion in which floats your brain will stain every inch of your mind. What remains of you now but this sad muddy slime of organs in a perfect leaded-glass vase? All who look can see your dissolution—but your words can never be erased, for your ink is eternal. Put to paper the tale, heroic or tragic, of someone you love, and spread it. They may add +1 to any number they wish on their character sheet. You may not do this more than once per person, and each must choose a different number to affect. If you incite a crowd to action by invoking such a tale, they will not be quelled until their goal is achieved.

Ash: You have received many gifts, from Sun and Sea and Wind. This is not a gift. It is yours. You have learned—or perhaps created?—a new word, and this word is Truth. When you speak it, your perfect ink-stained song-singing tongue will burn to ash in an instant. Your effluvia will clear miraculously, no longer blighted by darkness. Your bones and teeth will grow again from naught in their proper places. Your skin will soften and warm and grow opaque. Your eyes will appear once again in your skull, untouched by unbearable brightness. In return for your gift, you may dictate one eternal fact, which will forever reign in heaven as on earth, carved into the firmament and the bedrock and all other stones that are and all other stones that will be. Your tongue will never return. Your new-written stories will vanish in time, as all mortal things do. But your old stories and your Truth; those will never die. 

Inspired by "Death Dance for a Poet" by Audre Lorde, which I cannot find a good transcription of online. It's in the collection The Black Unicorn (1978).