The Northern Reaches

“The mountain counts your breaths. The frost writes your name in ice. In the north, the dead do not wait – they walk, and they remember every promise you made to keep warm.” — Dusana of the Raven Road

Aeler

Crowns & Under-Vaults.

The mountain remembers every word carved in its stone, every seal pressed into its walls. To govern here is not to command, but to harmonize with the ancient songs that still echo in the deep places.

I am an Under-Mason. I can hear stone shift a room away. When the rock starts singing a different tune, you best listen. Three knocks in the morning means all’s well, but three knocks at night means something’s coming through the walls that wasn’t meant to walk.

My homeland. The place where we don’t trust the surface, but we do trust the weight of a well-placed keystone—and oh, how the surface loves to test that trust. Our breath-bonds aren’t just currency—they’re the hardest thing in the peaks, forged in the sighs of miners who knew too much. We sell them to Vilikari jarls who pay in furs stained with brother’s blood, to Ykrul khagans who weigh the value in warhorses and broken oaths. Once, we sold one to the Veiled Sisters. They paid in secrets—which is another way of saying they paid in future leverage.

Never count your breaths aloud in a mine. The mountain listens, and if it hears you reach the ninth, it will take one—a breath, a memory, a shadow. My grandfather reached nine once. He lived another thirty years, but he never cast a shadow again.

— Thromm Stone-Tongue, Under-Mason, who has never counted to nine

What do people eat for breakfast? Stone-bread and cave cheese—the bread is baked on heated stone slabs, the cheese is aged in sealed galleries where the temperature never varies. The cheese has been aging for three generations. It is an heirloom. It is also barely edible.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To count their breaths. Aeler children wear breath-counters—small brass bells on leather cords. Eight breaths, ring the bell. Nine breaths, run. A child who cannot count is a child who will not survive the winter.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their bell. Every Aeler carries a bell tuned to their breath. A stranger’s bell will ring at a different pitch—the mountain’s lungs are calibrated to local frequencies. A mismatched bell is a warning. A silent bell is a threat.

What is the most common crime? Air theft. In the deep vaults, ventilation is shared. A sealed door, a blocked vent, a diverted shaft—these are thefts of breath, punishable by breath-debt. The guilty party must donate their own air ration to the victim. The donation is measured in days. The days are counted by bells.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The True Masons are not neutral. They are the Vault-Queen’s eyes. Every ”independent“ repair, every ”neutral“ inspection, every ”routine“ audit—the True Masons are watching. They do not report to the Queen. They are the Queen. They have always been the Queen.

Where do people go when they die? To the Deep Vaults—the oldest galleries, where the air is thin and the stone is cold. The dead are not buried. They are sealed in niches carved into the walls, their names chiselled above their heads. The niches are reused every century. The names are never erased. The dead share walls with strangers. The strangers are patient.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You offer a keystone—a load-bearing stone from your own holding. The stone is installed in the wronged party’s wall. If it holds, you are forgiven. If it cracks, the debt stands. If it crumbles, your holding collapses. Apology is architecture. Architecture is law.

What is the most important festival? The Ringing of the Underways (deep winter). Every bell in every hold is rung at the same hour—eight times, no more. The sound travels through the stone, a heartbeat that reminds the mountain that the living are still here. The dead listen. The dead do not ring back.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Vault-Queen is a construct. She was assembled in 723 AR, after the real queen died in a cave-in. Her heart is a keystone. Her breath is a bellows. Her voice is a recording. The True Masons maintain her. They have the schematics. The schematics are missing three pages. The missing pages describe how to turn her off.

Aeler (Dwarves) — “Crowns & Under-Vaults”

Key Demographic: Aeler (Dwarfs) Captial: Khaz-Veltrum (Arguable)

Entanglements

To the North West:

The Violet Steppe (Ykrul) – The high passes are contested; the Khagan’s scouts sometimes ride down the valleys. The mountain holds are a wall, not a welcome.

To the South:

Ecktoria / Vhasia / Viterra / Ubral – The grain barges from the lowlands keep the holds fed; the mountain’s appetite is never fully satisfied. The holds trade iron for barley and pray for a mild winter.

To the North East:

The Mistlands (Protectorate) – The bell-lines are an extension of Aeler engineering; ward-salt is paid in iron. The Legate of the Mists answers to the High King.

Across the Aberderrin:

The Valewood / Linns – Star-roads and fey paths occasionally surface in the deep galleries. The Aeler do not dig toward the forest; the forest does not dig toward them.

Quick Reference

Tagline: The mountain remembers every word carved in its stone. The deep remembers every breath we owe.

Vault-Queen of a Crownland (Elite): “The mountain remembers every seal pressed into its walls, every oath whispered in the dark. To govern here is not to command — it is to listen. The stone sings of what we owe. The deep listens for what we forget.”

Under-Mason (Commoner): “When the stone starts singing a different tune, you best listen. Three knocks in the morning means all’s well. Three knocks at night means something’s coming through the walls that wasn’t meant to walk. My grandfather called it the pressure that thinks. He walked into the deep one day and never came back. The mountain answered his knock. It always does.”

Genre / Mood: Survival horror underground, infrastructure as soft power, collectivist mercantilism, the weight of every breath.

Starting Location: An Underway junction lit by guttering brass lanterns, its stone walls scored with tally-marks from a dozen forgotten crowns. A Geometer halts the party with a tally-rod. “The Spine shifts,” he says, stone-dust in his beard. “Choose a crown — or be buried by one. The lowland grain barges are late again. If the holds don’t eat, the pressure wakes. And if you hear a knock in threes, pretend you did not. The deep is listening tonight.”

The Aeler Kingdoms hold the mountains by breath, bell, and bargain. Dozens of sovereign holds — some sealed for centuries, others trading openly with lowland markets — share only the deep roots of stone and the supremacy of the High King Beneath the Peaks. Their halls run like arteries, their cities open in thunderous caverns where bridges leap between ribs of stone and cisterns shine like night skies turned inward. Lore is the first law: air is counted, water is bartered, light is rationed by wick and prayer. Tradition is the second: seals are kept, measures remain true, and the dead keep their offices as carefully as the living. Between the two, a people learn to argue quietly and build loudly.

Collectives — clans, guild-kin, lamp-companies — own what the mountain allows; individuals are custodians by oath. Trade runs under and over the range through under-ways and pass-forts, stitching protectorates and lowland markets to vaultmouth gates. Aeler prosperity depends entirely on surface grain. The holds cannot grow enough food in the dark; each winter, caravans from Acasia, Vhasia, and Viterra bring barley and rye through the high passes. In exchange, the Aeler send iron, copper, and engineered stonework — bridge keystones, mill gears, breath-counter mechanisms. It is a fragile bargain. When the grain is late, the holds ration. When the holds ration, the pressure whispers louder.

But beneath the order, beneath the breath-counters and the record-stones, something older stirs. The Aeler do not speak of it directly. They call it the pressure that thinks — a presence that lives in the deepest galleries, in the spaces between sealed holds, in the darkness where bells have not rung for centuries. It does not attack. It invites. Miners who wander too deep return with no memory of why they went. Others do not return at all. The pressure does not hate. It is patient. And it is always, always listening.

What you notice first: The smell of stale air and hot metal. The constant drip of condensation in the distance — or is it footsteps? The way every Aeler touches a small brass bell at their belt before speaking of the deep. The way they never, ever count to nine aloud.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never count your breaths aloud in a mine. The mountain listens, and if it hears you reach the ninth, it will take one — a breath, a memory, a shadow. The deep does not forgive miscounts.

Regional Mood: Infrastructure, Famine, and the Pressure Below

Here, power is not measured in gold but in capacity: how many lamp-hours your holding can afford, how many mouths your air-recyclers can support, how many tons of ore you can raise before the grain runs out. The Aeler do not conquer; they engineer. A bridge built to their standards binds a valley to their trade network. A breath-counter installed in a foreign counting house gives them leverage over every contract signed beneath it. Their soft power is written in brass and stone.

Yet the holds are always one bad harvest away from collapse. The Deep Vaults cannot feed themselves. Every season, Edgewalkers — outcasts, rogues, and those too restless for the counting-chamber — are sent to the surface to “find opportunities.” They start feuds between lowland lords, sell weapons to both sides, and return with grain contracts signed in blood. The holds do not ask where the grain came from. They ask only that the wagons arrive before the ninth bell.

The holds endure because they are willing to spend lives as carefully as they spend lamp oil. A collapsed gallery is a line item. A village that starves because its grain was diverted to the Deep Vaults is a footnote in an audit that no one reads aloud. The Aeler are not cruel. They are efficient. And efficiency, in the dark, is the only mercy.

The Pressure That Thinks — The Deep Drake

Deep beneath the oldest mountains, beyond the Ninth Seal and past the last lamplighter’s mile, there is a presence. The Aeler do not name it. Among themselves, in whispers, some call it the Deep Drake — an ancient worm, a child of Nidhoggr, hatched in the dark between worlds. But that is speculation, and the Aeler are not a people given to speculation about things they cannot measure.

What they know is this: there is a weight in the deepest stone. It feels like curiosity. It sounds like your own name spoken with concern. It is not a god, not a demon, not a dragon in any sense the surface-dwellers would recognize. It is a proto-patron — a being whose hold on the world is tenuous, whose attention slips like water through fingers. It cannot command. It cannot bless. It can only invite.

The Deep Drake has no lair that any living Aeler has seen, though rumor persists of a vast chamber of black glass and fossilized bone, where the heat of the earth meets the cold of the void. In that chamber, the worm coils around a hoard that is not gold but attention: the still, silent figures of those who walked too far and never walked back. They sit in the dark, eyes open, mouths moving silently as they repeat the last promise they ever made. The Drake does not kill. It collects. And what it collects, it forgets — because its memory is as fragile as its grip on reality. That is why it is always hungry. That is why it is always listening.

The Aeler refuse to think of it as anything other than the pressure that thinks. To name it would be to invite it. To acknowledge it as a being would be to admit that the deep is not merely stone and silence but occupied. So they call it a superstition, a miner’s fancy, the kind of story told to frighten apprentices. And for the most part, they believe their own dismissal. But the old miners know. The Edgewalkers who have heard the three knocks and turned back just in time — they know. They do not speak of it. They only count their breaths more carefully.

The Deep Drake draws the living toward it not through force, but through a gentle, irresistible lure: a half-remembered tune, a forgotten oath, a face you thought you had left behind. You walk toward it because you believe you have business there. You have no business there. Its pull is strongest when you are tired, when your attention wanders, when you have stopped counting your breaths. The Aeler have learned to live with this. They seal off tunnels that grow too warm. They never answer a knock that comes in three. They count their breaths not out of habit, but out of a deep, unspoken fear that the ninth breath might be the one the Drake answers.

What the elders do not say, but what the Edgewalkers whisper: The Deep Drake is not the only thing down there. It is a child of something older — Nidhoggr, the corpse-tearer, the one who gnaws at the root of the world. That older thing does not invite. It demands. And it has been patient for a very long time.

The Edgewalker’s Bargain

Edgewalkers are Aeler rogues: outcasts who continue to contribute by bringing opportunity back to the holds. Outcasts from the holds, Edgewalkers are those who could not abide the counting — or who were too useful to execute and too dangerous to keep. They trade in secrets, in weapons, in the subtle art of making two lowland lords need each other’s destruction. An Edgewalker’s greatest skill is not swordplay but leverage: knowing which noble’s grain debt is overdue, which free company captain will flip for a better contract, which bridge toll can be raised to start a war. The holds disavow them publicly and fund them privately. When a war breaks out in the lowlands, Aeler iron flows to both sides. When the war ends, the holds send grain inspectors to collect the tab.

Manufactured conflict is one of their most destructive trades. Others secure harvest options, mediate access to passes, or assemble creditors who cannot collect alone. They judge a concession by whether it can be enforced when goodwill runs out. An Edgewalker may be blunt, unwelcome, and entirely effective: the crucial talent is finding a dependency and arranging the means to act on it. Some prefer a prosperous client who pays every year; others take the immediate gain and leave the holds to reckon with the enemy they have made.

Mechanical hook for Edgewalker characters: Once per arc, an Edgewalker may declare that they have a line on a lowland conflict. The GM creates a 4-segment Opportunity timer. Each tick represents the Edgewalker applying pressure (spreading rumors, selling a weapon, forging a letter). When the timer fills, a war, a feud, or a trade embargo ignites — and the Aeler holds gain +2 Supply from arms sales. The Edgewalker gains 1 Corruption (the Hollow notices their work) and a permanent String on a lowland faction.

The Fractured Crowns: Aeler Faction Spectrum

Aeler society is not monolithic. Beneath the High King’s nominal authority, each crownland follows its own star. Attitudes toward the surface range from open partnership to militant isolation, and even the most reclusive holds maintain Edgewalker contacts to monitor the world above.

• Traditionalist / “The Old Ways” – These holds idealize the ancient mountain-empire: closed gates, iron tariffs, and the certain knowledge that surface-dwellers cannot be trusted. They resemble the dwarves of fireside tales: stubborn, insular, and quick to reach for an axe when a human mentions “progress.” Their kings speak of the days when no foreigner stepped past the vaultmouth. They also speak of the pressure in whispers, and they seal any tunnel that shows signs of warmth. Timers: Foreigner Suspicion [4], Hold Sealed [6].

• Cooperative / “Open Hand” – These holds trade freely with Aelaerem, Kahfagia, and even the Vilikari. They staff the under-markets, send engineers to repair bridges in Viterra, and treat the surface as a resource to be managed, not a threat to be shunned. They prefer soft power: standardized measures, certified weights, and bell-code protocols that make others want to trade on Aeler terms. They are also the most likely to send expeditions into the deep, seeking lost holds — and the most likely to lose miners to the pressure. Timers: Trade Route Prosperity [6], Cultural Friction [4].

• Isolationist / “Silent Stone” – Deep holds that have not answered a Kingsmoot call in living memory. Their gates are lost, their peoples rumored to have turned inward, worshiping forgotten depths — or to have become part of the pressure’s hoard. They neither help nor harm the surface — but when a White Flood or a gas flare occurs, their silence becomes a hazard of its own. The Deep Drake is said to lair somewhere beneath the Silent Stone holds. Timers: Silent Hold Awakens [8], Ancient Grudge [6].

Most Aeler characters and settlements fall somewhere between these poles, and the same hold might shift its stance over a season, depending on grain prices, a new Vault-Queen, or a disaster that forces its hand.

The Breath Count — Habit, Not Function

Among the Aeler, counting breaths is not merely a safety measure — it is a cultural reflex, as automatic as a human’s heartbeat. Aeler children learn to count in eights before they learn to speak. They tap their fingers, their bells, their spoons in rhythms of eight. They never, ever count to nine aloud. The ninth breath is not a number; it is a gap — the space where the pressure listens. Aeler who forget to count in eights are considered unreliable, possibly touched by the deep. Those who deliberately count to nine are shunned; they are thought to have invited the pressure to notice them.

Mechanical note: Breath-counting is not a skill roll or a resource to track. It is a narrative and cultural tic. The GM may use a character’s failure to observe the count as a trigger for a complication (e.g., the mountain shifts, a bell rings falsely, a character feels watched). Conversely, an Aeler who scrupulously counts their breaths in eights may gain a small boon (e.g., +1 die to resist fear in confined spaces) as the mountain’s attention slides past them.

Prominent NPCs of Aeler

Names of Aeler

Aeler names blend flowing vowels and soft diphthongs (ae, ei, ou, ui) with harsh consonants (k, th, z, r, g). Surnames are carved from mountain-roots: a hold, a forge, a seam, or a trade.

Spades — Places (vaultmouths, descents, underways, crown seats)

2. (Security/Gatekeeping) Vaultmouth Gate in a hillslope: bronze lungs for breath-tests, tally-niches for lamps.

3. (Tradition/Oaths) Crown-Crypt Porch where oaths are sworn to sleeping kings.

4. (Commerce/Underground) Under-Market: lantern alleys between cistern pillars; damp coin, dry wit.

5. (Labor/Danger) Smoke-Shaft Stair spiraling up to a soot hatch; handprints black as seals.

6. (Mystery/Whispers) Gloam Cistern — black water, lead scales, whispers carry too far.

7. (Maintenance/Travel) Lamplighter’s Mile on the Under-Road; niches sting with spent wicks.

8. (Precision/Authority) Measure Vault: standard rods and weights chained under glass and oath.

9. (Sacred/Knowledge) Reliquary Arcade: bell-chimes answer drafts; saints keep their own tallies.

10. (Military/Strategic) Twin-Throne Gate — surface fortress straddling a chasm bridge.

11. (Knowledge/Secrecy) Deep Archive Stacks behind grillwork; scriptoria cells breathe ink and dust.

12. (Royalty/Privilege) Queen’s Descent: private stair from palace to royal vault-house.

13. (Politics/Power) Kingsmoot Cavern — crownstones in a ring around a bottomless dark.

14. (Infrastructure/Majesty) The Spine Underway, a great tunnel linking crownlands beneath the peaks.

Hearts — People & Factions (crowns, keepers, guilds, legates)

2. (Apprenticeship/Dedication) Lamplighter apprentice with a jingling key-ring and soot in the lungs.

3. (Craft/Knowledge) Under-Mason who can hear stone shift a room away.

4. (Authority/Duty) Vault Warden with breath-tally and seal-rods; patient as granite.

5. (Protection/Faith) Censer-Knight of the Dawn – fights miasma and men with equal zeal.

6. (Sacred/Craft) Key-Sister (monastic locksmith) who names wards like prayers.

7. (Commerce/Authority) Under-Market assessor whose stamp can starve or save a stall.

8. (Engineering/Expertise) Engineer of Underways (geometer) with rod, hammer, and the right maps.

9. (Tradition/Law) Oath-Keeper of the Crown Crypt – memory like iron, smile like law.

10. (Diplomacy/Authority) Legate of the Under-Seal, royal commissioner between kingdoms.

11. (Communication/Loyalty) White-Ribbon tunnel courier; runs blind, rings true.

12. (Royalty/Authority) Vault-Queen of a crownland, sovereign above and below.

13. (Supreme Authority/Tradition) High King Beneath the Peaks, first among crowns by ancient concord.

14. (Spiritual Power/Resolution) Lumenor of the Under-Altars, one sentence opens doors and closes debates.

Clubs — Complications/Threats (air, water, stone, rite, jurisdiction)

2. (Danger/Disorientation) Bad air pocket — candles gutter blue; lungs complain, schedules fail.

3. (Disruption/Flood) Drip-flood from a burst cistern reroutes corridors without asking.

4. (Accident/Destruction) Gas flare kisses a lamp; eyebrows and evidence vanish.

5. (Error/Security) Seal misread — the wrong door opens, the right one will not.

6. (Quarantine/Delay) Under-mold quarantine shuts the market just as your crate arrives.

7. (Danger/Warning) Settling crack — dust snow warns the roof wants down.

8. (Accusation/Suspicion) Stolen key turns up in your kit; accusations ring like bells.

9. (Conflict/Jurisdiction) Bell-code conflict — two authorities claim the same chime.

10. (Political Conflict/Violence) Vault-right feud: crown guards face basilica wardens on a stair.

11. (Disaster/Trapped) Cave-in behind — proof, friends, and retreat on the far side.

12. (Religious Conflict/Inquisition) Heresy inquest in the under-chapel; arrests in whispers.

13. (Authority/Restriction) General Under-Seal — all vault traffic halted by royal decree.

14. (Natural Disaster/Destruction) White Flood — mountain thaw becomes a river through your route.

Diamonds — Treasures & Discoveries (keys, passes, breath, priority, precedent)

2. (Utility/Time) Lamp-priority tally — skip one lamplighter queue.

3. (Safety/Access) Breath-measure allotment — lawful time in a sealed chamber (once).

4. (Security/Authority) Key-Writ — operate a named lock one time, witnessed.

5. (Travel/Security) Underway Pass — escorted travel between two vaultmouths.

6. (Commerce/Rights) Stall-Right in the under-market for a season.

7. (Engineering/Safety) Engineer Shoring — a crew stabilizes your chosen corridor on your timetable.

8. (Commerce/Trust) Assay Mark — your coin/metal accepted sight unseen below.

9. (Protection/Law) Crypt Asylum — temporary sanctuary under crown law.

10. (Authority/Access) Vault Inventory License — remove a named cache under witness.

11. (Military/Authority) Under-Guard Commission — command a vault detachment for a day.

12. (Royalty/Privilege) Private Descent with the Vault-Queen or High King’s chancellor.

13. (Supreme Authority/Access) High King’s Sealed Writ — doors open, mouths close across crownlands.

14. (Exception/Power) The Under-Seal Clause — temporary exception to any lock, levy, or rite below.

Quick use notes

• Draw until you have all four suits: Spade = place, Heart = actor, Club = pressure, Diamond = treasure. Highest rank sets the main Timer (2–5 → 4, 6–10 → 6, J/Q/K → 8, A → 10).

• Treasures (Diamonds) are codified outcomes (keys/passes/rights) that change position rather than call for a roll.

• If any A appears, echo stone & breath motifs — keys click, bells answer, and the mountain listens (and remembers). Also, the pressure that thinks may manifest as a whisper, a warmth, or a knock in the dark.

• Track Grain Reserves as a campaign timer. When it empties, the holds begin to starve — and the Edgewalkers are sent to light a fire somewhere on the surface.

Additional Features

• Count the Air: When a scene establishes scarce air, a character who actively paces their breathing (counted steps, measured rests) may shift Position one step safer on their next physical action in a confined space. This is habit, not a resource; Aeler characters may do this reflexively.

• Bell-Code Courtesy: If the party adopts local bell etiquette (asking a warden which chime applies and heeding it), gain +1 assist die on negotiations or passage requests within a vault or under-market. Ignoring the bells invites the mountain’s attention.

• Measure is Mercy: Presenting a certified measure (rod, weight, sealed tally) calms a dispute: cancel the first SB generated by commerce or jurisdictional friction in the scene. A false measure, however, may draw the pressure’s curiosity.

• The Ninth Breath (Cultural Tic): An Aeler character never counts to nine aloud. If forced to do so (or if they deliberately break the taboo), they must test Spirit + Endurance (dv 3) or gain the Marked by the Pressure condition (the next environmental hazard automatically triggers a complication). This is not a mechanical resource; it is a narrative and cultural constraint.

• Grain Reserves Timer [8]: Represents the holds’ food supply. Ticks when a surface caravan is delayed, a contract is broken, or an Edgewalker’s scheme fails. At 4 segments: rationing begins — all physical actions in the holds suffer –1 die. At 8 segments: famine. The Deep Drake’s attention sharpens. The party must find new grain — or feed the pressure something else.

In the deep places, survival depends on precision and tradition. The Aeler understand that stone does not forgive error — a misread seal can mean death, a miscalculated air measure can doom an expedition, and a broken bell-code can spark jurisdictional war. But beneath the law, beneath the tallies, there is the pressure. It does not hate. It does not judge. It simply thinks. And when it thinks of you, you will feel a warmth in the stone, a whisper in the dark, a knock that comes in threes. The wise pretend not to notice. The foolish walk toward it.

The holds endure because they are willing to spend lives as carefully as they spend lamp oil. A collapsed gallery is a line item. A village that starves because its grain was diverted to the Deep Vaults is a footnote in an audit that no one reads aloud. The Aeler are not cruel. They are efficient. And efficiency, in the dark, is the only mercy.

Thematic SB Spend Table

Minor Complications (1 SB)

• Exposure: Your actions draw unwanted attention from vault wardens or lamplighter companies.

• Noise: Sounds of your actions alert nearby under-guards or echo bats.

• Trace: Evidence of your passage marks your route for trackers or assessors.

• Delay: A brief but meaningful setback costs you time or favorable air.

• Supply Strain: Mark +1 segment on a relevant resource timer.

Moderate Setbacks (2 SB)

• Alarm Raised: Breath warden or vault warden becomes aware and begins responding.

• Position Lost: You lose advantageous ground/cover/stealth due to air shift or seal change.

• Foe Appears: A rival crown’s guard or gas wraith arrives on scene.

• Gear Trouble: A piece of equipment becomes Compromised/Neglected.

• Lock/Barrier: A simple obstacle now requires a test to overcome.

Serious Trouble (3 SB)

• Reinforcements: Additional crown guards, true masons, or lamp companies arrive.

• Key Gear Breaks: A crucial tool/weapon becomes temporarily unusable.

• Major Twist: The situation fundamentally changes - seal misread/cave-in/flare ignites.

• Rail Tick: Advance a relevant campaign/front timer by 1 segment.

• Condition Applied: Mark Fatigue 1/Harm 1/Condition appropriate to fiction.

• Pressure Whispers: A character hears their name spoken from a crack in the stone. They must test Spirit + Endurance (dv 3) or be compelled to move toward the sound.

Major Turns (4+ SB)

• Trap Springs: A prepared danger activates with full effect.

• Authority Arrival: Vault-Queen, High King’s Legate, or Lumenor intervenes.

• Scene Shift: The environment changes dramatically - gas floods/water breaks/floor collapses.

• Patron Omen: Divine/arcane forces take notice - omen appears/blessing lost/curse manifests.

• Narrative Pivot: The story takes an unexpected turn that reframes objectives.

• The Deep Drake’s Attention: The pressure that thinks focuses on a character. They gain a Marked by the Deep condition. The GM gains 2 SB to spend on environmental or psychic complications in future scenes.

Region-Specific SB Options

• Aeler (Stone & Breath): Keys click in the wrong locks, bells answer without being rung, mountain air grows thin without warning.

• Aeler (Authority & Tradition): A seal is misread, bell-codes conflict between jurisdictions, a vault warden demands proper credentials.

• Aeler (Underground Hazards): Bad air pockets form, settling cracks warn of collapse, gas flares ignite unexpectedly.

• Aeler (The Pressure That Thinks): A distant knock in threes, a warmth from a cold wall, a whisper that sounds like a dead relative, a shadow that moves independently.

Aeler — Under-Vault Tensions

Starting Location: An Underway junction lit by guttering brass lanterns, its stone walls scored with tally-marks from a dozen forgotten crowns.

“Among the Aeler, stone remembers the weight of oaths, and every echo calls a reckoning. But some echoes call from the deep, where the pressure thinks. Do not answer.”

In… An Underway junction, a Geometer halts the party with a tally-rod. “The Spine shifts,” he says, stone-dust in his beard. “Choose a crown — or be buried by one. And if you hear a knock in threes, pretend you did not. The pressure is listening tonight.”

Regional Motifs

Load-bearing oaths, fault-prayers, crown-rights, catacomb guilds.

Whispers to Offer

“Cut a supporting tie,” “Sign for another’s weight,” “Take a shortcut through the sealed tunnel,” “Answer the knock — it might be a friend.”

External Timers

Threat: “The Spine Slips”; Fracture: “Maps Reorder”; Community: “Surface Panic”; Deep: “The Pressure Wakes [8]”; Grain: “Reserves Empty [8]”.

Complications

Load-lights dim; echoes reply in politics; crown agents arrive early; a miner goes missing in the deep.

Anchors at Risk

A PC’s workshop; a shared refuge tunnel; a relative who works in the deep galleries.

Escalation Beat

The tally-rod points to the most guilty PC. Then a knock sounds from the darkness — three times.

Relief

Shore a vault with sacrifice (1 anchor), or complete a truce between crowns; Spirit + Endurance (dv 5) to hold a cave-in long enough to evacuate. Or offer a memory to the pressure — it will accept, but it will remember.

Faction Entanglements

• Edgewalkers (Prospectors): If you accept their escort or intel, start a 4-segment Opportunity timer you can cash for +1 Effect on one venture. If you refuse a posted hazard, they post your route as “open” (first stealth or smuggling roll this leg suffers –1 die). Edgewalkers are the most likely to have heard the pressure’s whisper and survived.

• True Masons (Infrastructure Orders): Pledge tools or labor to earn a Mason’s Stamp (treat as papers to traverse construction zones). Cross a marked barrier without their leave and gain the Tampered Work tag — first structural mishap SB against you is free. True Masons are the ones who seal the tunnels that grow warm.

• Lamplighter Companies: Donate wick, oil, or time on the Mile to bank a Lamp Credit; spend to ignore darkness penalties once on the Under-Road. Skip a service bell and all under-market buys that scene cost +1 timer tick (queues & suspicion). Lamplighters are the first to notice when a light goes out for no reason.

• Under-Market Assessors: Submit to measure/weigh and reduce Commerce dv by 1 this scene. Try to pass unassayed goods — on a Miss, lose the load or accept a Caveat Stamp that poisons your price two markets downstream. Assessors have a sixth sense for false weights; they claim the pressure tells them.

• Breath Wardens: Register bodies & flames before sealed work; compliance cancels the first air-hazard SB. Skipping registry adds a Thin Air tick to the leg (applies –1 die to the first exertion test in confinement). Breath Wardens are the ones who count every exhalation. They never speak of what they hear in the silence between breaths.

Cross-Regional Ties & Soft Power

• Agrarian Reliance (Human Breadbelts): Grain, timber, tallow, and fleece convoys from Acasia/Vhasia/Viterra sustain vault populations. Famine or levy spikes uprange impose night rationing: Under-Road checks +1 dv and food trades add +1 SB pressure until relief.

• Standards Diplomacy: Aeler Measure Vault rods adopted abroad grant +1 die to settle disputes in foreign markets; rejecting Aeler standards increases toll and inspection frequency (first border scene gains a free “Lock/Barrier” SB).

• True Mason Missions Abroad: Accept a Mason cadre to “stabilize” bridges, ports, or sluices: reduce Travel dv by 1 on that route for the arc, but the route now respects Aeler closure bells (authorities can halt traffic with one writ).

• Edgewalker Concessions: Prospect notes traded to frontier lords exchange for wayleaves and salvage rights; cash once for an Under-Seal Clause (local) or accept a rival claimant timer that will mature if you delay.

• Kahfagian Interface (Sea Monopoly): Aeler export hard-goods via Kahfagian factors; storm seasons or privateer scares add a Harbor Quarantine tick to any surface leg feeding those ports (customs dv +1).

• Aelerem/Aelinnel Fallout: When Valewood Weather is signaled, Aeler works creak; all bell-codes in mixed settlements (Aelerem/Aelinnel) are one step easier to misread (first bell-etiquette scene: add a free “Error/Security” SB unless you consult a local).

Trade Goods & Consequences

• Airworks & Wick (Oil, Char, Filters): Donate to a vault — bank a Breath Favor to cancel the next bad-air complication. Hoard in a shortage and your lot is flagged; all purchases beneath that crown suffer –1 die until you settle a fine or tithe.

• Stonework & Ironwork (Beams, Keys, Rods): Selling to foreign keeps spreads Aeler codes: once per arc, treat a foreign gate as if it used Aeler warding (gain +1 die with Key-Sisters/warders there). Counterfeit measure rods trigger a cross-border inquest timer.

• Foodflows (Grain, Fleece, Tallow): Move relief trains to clear one Rationing tag for a settlement (dv –1 for social checks there). Divert a relief train and gain an Audit timer that follows you three markets hence.

• Cistern-Right & Water Engineering: Fund a sluice or cistern abroad to gain Water Priority (skip one queue during drought). Neglect maintenance and the keeper may invoke Aeler Liability — pay or lose access to the route for a season.

Patron Networks (Below and Beyond)

• The Sealed Gate: Consecrated door-nails from True Mason kits act as single-use stay writs (negate one forced entry this scene).

• The Traveler: Spine milestones double as wayshrines; leave a brass chit to reroll one failed travel test on that segment this arc.

• Inquisitor Prime: Breath-pure censers sanction “clean rooms”; once per delve, dispel one ambient miasma or ward-rot effect at cost of +1 Obligation to local abbey-knights.

• Maelstraeus: Under-Market stalls tithe to the Great Ledger; cash a Market Dominance tick to flip one price band in your favor for a scene, then mark a 4-segment Karmic Weight with assessors.

Survival-Horror Procedures (Use Often)

• Headcount & Flamecount: At scene start in confinement, ask “Who breathes, what burns?” If headcount+flamecount exceeds posted limit, add a free “Thin Air” SB and start a 4-segment Stale Air timer.

• Two Bells to Safety: Any time the fiction stalls underground, ring two nearby bells (authority vs. sanctum). PCs must pick one to heed; ignoring both increases the next hazard’s Cap by +1 (stone holds grudges).

• Measure or Mistrust: Producing a certified rod/weight cancels the first commerce/jurisdiction SB this scene; failing to present one imposes –1 die on haggling or passage until appeased.

• The Knock in Threes: If a character hears three knocks from the darkness, they must test Spirit + Endurance (dv 3) or be compelled to walk toward the sound. The knock may be the pressure — or it may be a lost miner. The difference is not always clear.

Diplomatic Favor & Reputation Echoes

• Breath Favor (minor resource): Earned by donating wick/oil or assisting air wardens. Spend to downgrade one underground hazard outcome or to bypass a lamplighter queue.

• Stamps & Seals:

  • Mason-Marked: Doors to worksites open; smugglers avoid you (harder to buy contraband, easier to cross safely).

  • Edge-Trusted: Prospectors share fresh maps — first detour per leg is free; officials eye you as opportunists (first civic audience dv +1).

  • Assessor-Clean: Under-markets honor your assay; rivals spread rumors — add a trailing Audit timer if you score a windfall.

Boss Archetypes in Aeler

Systemic / Economic / Conspiracy

• Under-Market Syndic (Cartel/Measure Fraud): Price-fixes breath, wick, and water; wields corrupt assay marks to starve rivals. Win by exposing forged measures or seizing the Assay Chain.

• True Mason Provost (Infrastructure Coup): Locks cities behind “safety closures,” weaponizes detours and permits. Win by forcing a public bell-code audit or breaking the Permit Timer .

• Edgewalker Concessionaire (Route Monopolist): Controls salvage and short-cuts, posts hazards to strangle traffic. Win by proving route tampering or opening a sanctioned bypass.

• Bell-Code Inquisitor (Silent Coup): Rewrites chimes to shift jurisdiction; arrests arrive as echoes. Win by restoring canonical bell charts or capturing the Chime Key.

Survival Horror (Environment as Boss)

• White Flood (Water/Pressure): Thaw-swollen river through the halls; phases at trickle → surge → roar. Win by sluicework, sacrificial breach, or riding the flood.

• Bad Air (Miasma/Invisible): Candles gutter blue; thoughts slow; corridors choose the slowest. Win by air discipline, filter rites, or opening a lung-shaft.

• Hungry Stone (Creep/Collapse): Settling cracks hunt noise and heat; shudders on every miss. Win by shoring, silence, and rerouting stress through old ribs.

• Lamp Famine (Darkness/Isolation): Wicks fail in sequence; last lights lure you deeper. Win by restoring the Lamplighter’s Mile or kindling a saint-wick.

Undead / Fallen Kingdom / Eldritch / Demonic

• Crown-Lich of the Crypt (Undead Sovereign): Keeps ancient offices; binds petitioners with oaths to the dead. Win by repealing a mortmain writ or severing the Oath-Chain.

• Echo-King in the Deep (Eldritch Memory): A throne of voices; answers every argument you will ever make. Win by changing the Measure (new precedent) or striking the Silent Note.

• Seal-Devil (Demonic Contract): Lives in locks and signatures; eats exceptions. Win by offering a flawless counter-seal or starving it of loopholes.

• The Hollow Architect (Fallen Works): A ghost-guilder rebuilding the empire wrong on purpose. Win by unkeying the master plan or collapsing the false load paths.

• The Deep Drake (The Pressure That Thinks): Not a boss to be fought, but a presence to be negotiated with — or escaped. Phases: Whisper → Knock → Invitation → Collection. Cracks: offer a memory of sunlight, speak a true regret, or allow a willing sacrifice to walk into the deep in your place.

Boss Mechanics Notes

• Air & Light Tracks: In confined scenes, track Headcount, Flamecount. If Headcount + Flamecount exceeds posted limit, add a free “Thin Air” SB and start Stale Air [4]. Each tick imposes –1 die to exertion until vented.

• Jurisdiction Timers: Many bosses run a Bell-Code Conflict [4] or Seal Dispute [6]. On fill, the boss gains Authority Surge: increase their social dv by +1 and seize initiative once.

• Lair Actions (choose 2–3):

  • Collapse Probe: Mark “Settling Crack”; nearest noisy PC tests Prowess or risk Pin/Separate.

  • Breath Tax: Reduce Flamecount by 1; next exertion in zone costs Fatigue 1 on a miss.

  • Blackout/Glare: Snuff or flare lamps; impose Disorient (—1 die) until a Lamplighter Action restores balance.

  • Bell Overrule: Swap which faction’s law applies; social actions vs. boss gain +1 dv this round.

  • White Flood Surge: Advance environment timer; force Move/Wreck or be Separated.

  • Pressure’s Knock (Deep Drake only): A character hears three knocks. They must test Spirit + Endurance (dv 4) or be compelled to move one range band toward the sound.

• Phase Triggers: Environment bosses phase when Air hits 2/4, Water hits 3/6, or Light hits 0; Conspiracy bosses phase when Audit or Permit timers fill.

• Truth & Measure: Producing a certified rod/weight cancels the first commerce/jurisdiction SB each phase; forging one gives the boss 1 SB and a free Expose Fraud reaction.

• Crowd Pressure: In under-markets, add Panic Crowd [4]; each tick adds +1 dv to precise actions (shoot, pick, ritual) unless calmed with bell-code or coin.

• Fear Hooks (optional): Bad Air inflicts Fear vs. suffocation; Echo-King inflicts Fear vs. isolation; Seal-Devil inflicts Fear vs. helplessness; Pressure’s Knock inflicts Fear vs. the unknown. On Fail: mark Shaken; on Critical Fail: drop a resource (lamp, key, breath).

The Mistlands

Bells, Salt, and Breath.

The bells here do more than mark time—they weave the very fabric of reality, keeping the mist at bay and the dead in their proper places. Each chime is a thread in the pattern that holds the world together.

I am a Bell-Warden. I refuse to write down the ninth note. It lives only in my memory—and that memory is fading.

The Mistlands are a protectorate of the Aeler in name only. The fog here doesn’t just hide the land; it hides the law, and oh, how the wraiths love that ambiguity. The bell-lines aren’t just defenses—they’re the only thing keeping the wraiths from dragging whole villages into the mist. The Aeler built them. The Aeler charge for them. The Aeler will leave when the money runs out. And when that happens, the fog will remember every single soul they abandoned.

Never answer a voice that calls your name from the fog. The mist collects names, and once it has yours, the ferryman will always know where to find you. I’ve seen men answer. I’ve watched them walk into the white, still talking, still smiling, until their voices came back from a direction they hadn’t gone.

— Warden Noah, who has seen the ninth bell rung once and will not speak of it

What do people eat for breakfast? Salt fish and sour bread—the fish is smoked over peat fires, the bread is leavened with fog-damp yeast. The yeast is caught in cloth traps hung from the bell-towers. The traps are emptied at dawn. The yeast is not alive. It is not dead either.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To ring a bell. Every Mistlands child is given a small bronze bell at birth. By age three, they can ring the eight notes of the ward-chime in their sleep. The ninth note is never taught. The ninth note is discovered. Discovery is fatal.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their salt-pouch. Every Mistlander carries a leather pouch of consecrated salt. A stranger without a pouch is either a fool or a wraith. A stranger whose pouch is empty is a fool who is about to become a wraith.

What is the most common crime? Ward-salt theft. The Aeler control the salt pans, and the salt is the only thing that keeps the dead from rising. A stolen pouch can buy a week’s protection. The price is a year’s debt to the Aeler. The debt is collected in labor. The labor is collecting salt. The salt is stolen. The cycle is perpetual.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Bell-Wardens are not chosen—they are volunteered. A village that loses a warden must send a replacement to the Aeler training holds. The holds are in the mountains. The mountains are cold. The trainees do not always return. The ones who do return do not speak of what they learned. Their bells ring at a different pitch.

Where do people go when they die? To the fog. Bodies are not buried in the Mistlands—the ground rejects them. Corpses are carried to the edge of the bell-line and left for the mist. The mist takes them. Sometimes, at dusk, you can see them walking the lanes. They do not speak. They do not need to. Their presence is a question.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You ring the Bell of Atonement—a cracked bronze bell that hangs in every village square. The bell rings once for each wrong confessed. If the bell rings true, you are forgiven. If it cracks further, you are not. If it shatters, you are banished to the fog. The banished never return. Their voices still answer from the white.

What is the most important festival? The Rehanging of the Lines (autumn). Every bell-line is taken down, cleaned, and rehung. The work takes three days. The villages are silent for three nights. The dead listen. The dead wait. The dead do not ring.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Legate of the Mists is a wraith. She died in 803 AR, during a bell-line failure. The Aeler rebuilt her from fog and memory. She does not know she is dead. She attends council meetings. She signs documents. Her signature fades after sunset. The documents are refiled every morning.

Mistlands — “Bells, Salt, and Breath”

Key Demographics: Humans and Dwarves Capital City: Payden’s Port

Entanglements

To the North:

The Violet Steppe (Ykrul) – Winter raids sometimes pierce the fog, but the mist is a better guardian than any wall. The Ykrul do not linger where the bells ring false.

To the South:

Aeler – Mistland caravans pass each other, carrying arms and bells one way, grain and uncertain futures, the other.

To the East: (via the Aberderrin)

The Linns – Longship raids come when the bell-lines are weak; the sea is the second border, and it does not ring. The fog-wardens watch the horizon as much as the bells.

To the West:

The mist rolls in from the heart of the wood, carrying whispers, wraiths, and death.

The Mistlands lie north of the Aelerian mountains, where the Aberderrin Sea laps against reed-fens and drowned shores. To the west, the Direwood breathes; to the east, the salt tides of the Aberderrin. It is a Protectorate of the Aeler, but their iron passes only hold the southern roads — the land itself belongs to fog and bells. Every levee hums with ward-notes, every ferry takes salt as tithe, and every shadow is measured against the Direwood’s endless breath. The people here live by the weight of salt, the echo of bells, and the hope that their names will not be spoken by the mists.

The Aeler Protectorate maintains order with patrols, garrisons, and breath-bonds, but the real law is older: salt lines drawn at dusk, iron nails hammered into threshold posts, and the unspoken knowledge that the ninth bell must never ring. The Mistlands do not forgive forgetfulness. The mist has a long memory, and it shares its grudges freely.

What you notice first: The constant, distant chime of bells — never quite in sync. The taste of salt on your lips even inland. The way everyone holds their breath when crossing a bridge. The silence when a bell fails to ring.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never answer a voice that calls your name from the fog. The mist collects names, and once it has yours, the ferryman will always know where to find you.

Regional Mood: Bells and Breath

Here, breath is currency and silence a sin. Every exhalation is counted by the ward-bells, and every stolen inhalation feeds something that should not be. The Aeler Protectorate maintains order with patrols and garrisons, but the real law is older: salt lines drawn at dusk, iron nails hammered into threshold posts, and the unspoken knowledge that the ninth bell must never ring. The Mistlands do not forgive forgetfulness. The mist has a long memory, and it shares its grudges freely.

The tension between the Aeler governor (Legate Halvar) and the local bell-wardens is constant. The Aeler want standardized bell-codes, the salt-tithe weighed true, and villages who keep the old pacts. The wardens want the old ways: counting in eights, never the ninth, and the right to refuse a name to the fog. Payden’s Port, the only true city, is a battleground of writs and lanterns. Grain ships leave each autumn, carrying the Protectorate’s due east and returning with iron, engineers, and the occasional missionary — who rarely stay.

Prominent NPCs of the Mistlands

|p0.2|p0.25|p0.3|p0.15| Name & Role/Title & Motivation & Rumoured Quirk
Legate Halvar & Aeler governor of the Protectorate & Keep the bell-lines intact and the grain flowing east & She carries a bell that has never been rung. It will ring once, at the end of her reign.
Mother Anja & Salt-Monk of the White Pans & Preserve the old wards against the Direwood & Her tongue is white with salt; she speaks only in blessings or silence.
Warden Lucas & Bell-Warden of the High Line & Protect his village from the mist and the Aeler law-men & He refuses to write down the ninth note; it lives only in his fading memory.
Sister Darya & Healer of the Gray Hospice of the Unnamed (Temple of Light) & Tend the fog-sick and the drowned & Her gray robes never stain, and she asks no payment — only a name to carry in her keeping.
Notary Voss & Covenant judge (Mykkiel) & Impose Aeler law on local customs & He carries a water-timer to measure the shifting of legal moods. The mist ignores it.
The Ferryman & Oath-ferryman of the Ghost Slip & Gather tolls in salt and whispered names & His left hand is always gloved; underneath, the names are carved into his palm.

Names of the Mistlands

Inspired by the coastal fens and the Aeler protectorate: clipped, breathy, with soft vowels and hard endings. Surnames often denote a marsh, a craft, or a ward.

|p0.25|p0.25|p0.2|p0.2| First Names (Male) & First Names (Female) & Surnames & Epithets
Halvar & Anja & Foss & the Bell-Sworn
Lucas & Darya & Mork & Fog-Born
Voss & Pia & Saltvedt & the Unnamed
Torben & Lise & Kyst & Breath-Thief
Stian & Ragna & Dyrep & Ward-Keeper
Vidar & Signe & Tangen & Ash-Finger

(Fen/Levee/Bell-line)

Reed-fen causeway with chalked ward-runes on every milestone; Bell-Line levee with iron posts and eight bells per span.

Spades — Places

2. Reed-Fen Causeway — Chalked ward-runes on every milestone; safe path through the mist.

   Step only on the chalked stones. The mud between has no bottom.

3. Bell-Line Levee — Iron posts, eight bells per span; one bracket empty, one note forbidden.

   The empty bracket is for the bell that never rings. The rope is still there.

4. Ghost-Ferry Slip — Rope crosses black water; toll taken in salt and whispered names.

   The ferryman never blinks. Some say he traded his eyelids for the right to collect.

5. Pall Watch-Tower — Piles above mire; mirrors face west to the Direwood’s breath.

   The mirrors are silvered on both sides. The wardens watch their own reflections as much as the trees.

6. Mist-Chapel — Stilted planks; votive lanterns gutter under damp rafters.

   The icon has no face. Worshippers say it lost its features to the fog, one by one.

7. Dead-Cut Canal — Old imperial ditch; patrolled by eel boats and law.

   The eels have eyes like men. Fishermen throw back any that blink.

8. Drowned Copse — Root-tangles clutch tide like old hands; bones in the bark.

   The trees were planted on a mass grave. They grew twisted, hungry.

9. Fogmill Ridge — Wind vanes vanish into cloud; gears hiss like prayers to fog.

   The miller grinds salt, not grain. The fog claims his breath each turning.

10. Salt-Pan Terraces — Patched with peat; ward-salt dries under nets, watched by monks.

    The monks chant without ceasing. If they stop, the salt spoils — and so does the warding.

11. Fort-Stair — Stacked timber and stone; flags swallowed by mist, guards by routine.

    The flags are changed daily. The ones that vanish are never spoken of again.

12. Witchlight Bridge — Over black runnel; ninth plank “counted” but unseen.

    The missing plank is there — you just can’t see it. Step where it should be, or don’t step at all.

13. High-Mist Pass — Through Aelerians; cairns ringed in iron nails, bells in the stones.

    Each cairn holds a bell that rang once at the death of a warden. They ring again when mist takes another.

14. Weeping Gate — Western palisade facing Direwood; bells wired to bones of trees.

    The gate weeps sap that smells of iron and old grief. Wardens collect it in silver cups.

(Warden/Ferryman/Aeler)

Bell-warden whose ringbook decides which notes keep which ghosts; oath-ferryman gathering toll in salt and names.

Hearts — People & Factions

2. Reed-Cutter — Peat-black hands, precise opinion on fog; knows every safe path.

   She cuts reeds in a pattern — one snip, two snips, then a pause for the ninth.

3. Salt-Monk — Blesses pans, keeps ward-measure honest; salt as both shield and vow.

   His tongue is white with salt. He speaks only in blessings or silence.

4. Bell-Warden — Ringbook decides which notes keep which ghosts at bay.

   She refuses to write down the ninth note. It lives only in her memory — and that memory is fading.

5. Oath-Ferryman — Toll taken in salt and names; remembers both, gathers both.

   His left hand is always gloved. Underneath, the names are carved into his palm.

6. Lantern Acolyte — Trims wicks and arguments; light as law in the mist.

   He carries a bell on his belt. It rings once for each lie he hears.

7. Mist-Pilot — Linn refugee; ghosts ships through reed-lace — if the cost is breath.

   She never speaks above a whisper. Her voice is currency, and she spends it carefully.

8. Protectorate Clerk — Aeler oilskin folios, narrow smile; law in triplicate.

   His stamp is a bell. He presses it twice — once for the crown, once for the Hollow.

9. Shroud-Diver — Harvests tokens from drowned fields before dawn’s false light.

   He wears a bell around his ankle. If it rings, he’s stayed too long.

10. Direwood Refugee — Cold breath, colder stories; knows what the trees whisper.

    She carved out her own tongue. The trees still speak through her — in a voice not her own.

11. Fog-Knight — Cavalry rides levee crowns by bellcode; mist as their steed.

    Their horses have no shadows. Some say they traded them for fog-sight.

12. Legate of Mists — Aeler governor; equal parts mercy and decree, bells at their command.

    She carries a bell that has never been rung. It will ring once, at the end of her reign.

13. Lord Warden — Local strong hand sworn to Legate’s seal; law walks the fens.

    He lost an eye to a wight. He wears a bell in the socket.

14. Mist-Seer — Bargains breath for answers; candles shorten when she speaks.

    She has no shadow. The mist took it as a pledge.

(Undead/Weather/Law)

Ground-mist lifts off fen and eats tracks by the yard; witchlights try to count you; step wrong and bridge forgets you.

Clubs — Complications/Threats

2. Ground-Mist — Lifts from fen; eats tracks by the yard, names by the breath.

   Your footfalls vanish behind you. The mist is following, not rising.

3. Witchlight Count — Trying to count you; step wrong and bridge forgets your path.

   The lights flicker in a pattern — two short, two long. They’re signaling someone.

4. Ward-Salt Short — Pans go green; bells ring, nothing answers from the other side.

   The salt is gray, not white. Someone cut it with grave dust.

5. Wrong Bell — Cracked note opens a door the Legate can’t close; mist takes the gap.

   The bell’s clapper is a finger bone. The original owner wants it back.

6. Linn Raid — Slips reed-maze; hearths douse, horns travel on the fog.

   The raiders wear bells on their belts — stolen from the last village.

7. Direwood Moan — At dusk; Weeping Gate ropes go taut by themselves.

   The moan has words. You don’t want to understand them.

8. Valewood Wind — Crosses Aberderrin; voices sweet, landmarks false.

   The wind smells of honey and rot. Do not follow it.

9. Bell-Line Failure — Levee breaks silence; wraith steps across like it owns the road.

   The wraith carries a lantern. The light is blue — the color of drowned breath.

10. Marsh-Quake — Sod heaves, dyke slumps; causeways and bodies sink together.

    The ground exhales. Your name rises from it like smoke.

11. Protectorate Interdiction — All ferries sealed “until review”; routes dry up.

    The seals are stamped with a bell. The wax is mixed with bone ash.

12. Rite-Purge — Inspectors call local customs heresy; tempers at a boil.

    The inspectors carry blank books. They fill them with names of the accused.

13. General Alarm — Pall horns sound; every lantern becomes law, every shadow suspect.

    The horns are made from the tusks of a sea beast. The beast’s ghost is angry.

14. Tide-Mist — Rolls from Aberderrin; spirits ride the white and won’t be named.

    The spirits have no faces — only the faces of the drowned.

(Pass/Seal/Token)

Ward-salt allotment draws safe circle once; ferry token crosses named black runnel regardless of curfew.

Diamonds — Rewards/Leverage

2. Ward-Salt — Pure measure draws safe circle once; mist parts, briefly.

   The salt is warm. It knows it will be used.

3. Ferry Token — Cross named black runnel regardless of curfew or tide.

   The token is a knuckle bone. The ferryman accepts it without comment.

4. Bell-Key — Unlock and set one bell on the Line to your note; change the song.

   The key is a tuning fork. Strike it once to claim your note.

5. Lantern Writ — Lawful travel at night along levee crown with escort.

   The writ is written on dried bladder. It crinkles when you lie.

6. Exorcist’s Seal — Stamped clause downgrades “haunt” to “nuisance.”

   The seal is a bell without a clapper. It’s silent, like the wraiths it binds.

7. Codeleaf — Today’s mirror and horn sequences; fog cannot hide what you know.

   The leaf is soaked in brine. Read it before it dries.

8. Protectorate Mark — Priority rations and rope from Fort-Stair stores.

   The mark is a brand. It smokes when you show it.

9. Wraith-Pardon — Pardon for desperate deeds done while spirits press near.

   The pardon is signed in salt water. It will dissolve if you misuse it.

10. Bone-Field License — Salvage rights at drowned hamlet (with witnesses).

    The license is a map drawn on a shroud. Follow the stitch marks.

11. Refuge-Right — Move a named household through Gate unchallenged; breath as token.

    The right is a bell-rope. Tie it to your belt. Nonna will ask.

12. Legate’s Audience — One whisper exits as policy; bells ring your decree.

    The Legate’s ear is a silver bell. Speak into it once.

13. Warden’s Commission — Raise levee guards; local doors open, and trust follows.

    The commission is a whistle. Blow it, and the fens answer.

14. Pall Indulgence — Temporary exception to ward law, spoken and sealed by bell.

    The indulgence is a single bell-note, held in a jar. Break the jar to release it.

Quick use notes

• Draw until you have all four suits: Spade = place, Heart = actor, Club = pressure, Diamond = leverage. Highest rank sets the main Timer (2–5 → 4, 6–10 → 6, J/Q/K → 8, A → 10).

• Diamonds are codified outcomes (passes/seals/tokens) that change position rather than call for a roll.

• If any A appears, echo breath and boundary — bells answering across water, salt that won’t dry, voices returning late.

Additional Features (Cultural Mechanics)

• Breath-Toll: Many claim the mist remembers every breath. Travelers hold breath crossing bridges, fearing the mist will count them wrong. Mechanically, when you cross a threshold without a ward-salt or bell, roll Spirit + Endurance (DV 3). On a failure, the mist learns your name — gain the MARKED condition (the next spirit encounter starts at Desperate Position).

• Salt as Promise: A handful of salt is more than warding — it is a vow. Spill it on plank or stone to swear safety. Once per session, a character may spend a handful of ward-salt to create a Salt Oath [4] timer. While the timer has segments, the oath-taker gains  + 1 die to resist fear or possession. If the oath is broken, the timer fills and the breaker takes Harm 1 (spiritual backlash).

• The Ninth Bell: Legends say a ninth bell once rang on the Line. The note is not in any ringbook; no warden speaks of it. Some nights, though, it rings — and gates open where none should be. When the GM spends 3+ SB in a scene, they may declare that the Ninth Bell rings. All characters must test Spirit + Endurance (DV 4) or lose 1 Fatigue (the sound steals breath).

• Payden’s Port: The only true city in the Mistlands, huddled on the western coast of the Aberderrin. Its wharves are built from salvaged longship timber, and its law is split between the Aeler Legate’s seal and the old bell-wardens’ traditions. Grain ships leave from its harbour each autumn, carrying the Protectorate’s due east — and returning with iron, engineers, and the occasional missionary. The port’s inn, the Drowned Rat, has a bell that rings once for every sailor lost at sea. It rings often.

• Local Patrons (Syncretic Names):

  • The Bell-Keeper — The Sealed Gate. A bell that never rings, yet holds the threshold closed.

  • The Salted One — Oath of Mercy and Grace. A prayer that preserves body and soul, but remembers the name of everyone it saves.

  • The Mist-Father — Khemesh. The pressure beneath the fog; the hunger that waits in still air.

  • The Lantern Bearer — The Traveler. The light that guides lost ships — and lost souls.

Lore Echoes (Cross-Expansion Hooks)

• Saint Lucas of the Iron Bell (The Sealed Gate): The bell-wardens venerate a legendary warden who hammered a ninth bell into the Weeping Gate to seal a Direwood breach. The bell cracked, but the breach closed. His chisel is kept at Payden’s Port; it is said to quench the mist for an hour if struck against an iron post. The Aeler Protectorate has tried to confiscate it twice; both attempts ended with the confiscators lost in fog.

• Saint Anja of the White Pans (Oath of Mercy and Grace): A salt-monk who died blessing the pans during a tide-mist. Her body never decayed, and her chapel now serves as a hospice for fog-sick sailors. The Temple of Light sends offerings of fresh water each spring; the Everflame considers her a heretic. Pilgrims who pray at her shrine may ask one question of a drowned ancestor — but the answer is always a single word, and that word is never given freely.

• The Gray Hospice of the Unnamed: Sister Darya runs a hospice near Payden’s Port. She asks no payment, but she records every patient’s name in a book that never dries. The Aeler clerks suspect she is erasing names, not healing wounds. She has been investigated three times; each time, the investigator vanished into the fog and returned with no memory of why they came.

• The Bell-Ringer’s Covenant (The Keeper of the Silent Seal): Notary Voss is the Protectorate’s appointed judge, charged with imposing Aeler law on local customs. He carries a water-timer to measure the shifting of legal moods, but the mist ignores it. His rulings are always delivered in triplicate, and the bell-wardens obey them — slowly. Those who lie before him find that their next passage through the Ghost-Ferry Slip is denied; the ferryman refuses to name them.

• The Ninth: In any Mistlands scene, the ninth person to speak in a room draws the mist’s attention. The wise hold their tongues until someone else breaks the count. Those who speak ninth are said to see a pale figure standing at the foot of the bed that night — waiting to take a breath.

• The Black Barrow Keep (Aelinnel Ruin): Looming over Payden’s Port, this ancient workshop of bell-automata and ward-forges is sealed by the Protectorate — but smugglers and treasure-hunters still enter. Locals whisper that the lowest catacombs connect to the Ways Between. The Aeler have tried to collapse the upper levels three times; each time, the rubble was found cleared by morning, with no tracks in the fog.

Mistlands Superstitions (burn for  + 1 die once)

• Bread to the Fog: Toss a crust into the mist before crossing a bridge. Ignore the first Ground-Mist penalty.

• Hold the Ninth Breath: Cross a threshold while holding your breath. Cancel Witchlight Count or take  − 1 die on your next action (your choice).

• Name to the Salt: Whisper a dead enemy’s name into a salt pan. Gain  + 1 Effect against undead for the scene, but mark Obligation to the Legate.

Thematic SB Spend Table

Minor Complications (1 SB)

• Exposure: Your actions draw unwanted attention from wardens or fog-knights.

• Noise: Sounds of your actions alert nearby spirits or patrol boats.

• Trace: Evidence of your passage marks your route for trackers or mist-spirits.

• Delay: A brief but meaningful setback costs you time or favorable tide.

• Supply Strain: Mark  + 1 segment on a relevant resource timer.

Moderate Setbacks (2 SB)

• Alarm Raised: Protectorate forces or local warden becomes aware and begins responding.

• Position Lost: You lose advantageous ground/cover/stealth due to mist shift or bell failure.

• Foe Appears: A wraith, raiding party, or inspector arrives on scene.

• Gear Trouble: A piece of equipment becomes Compromised/Neglected.

• Lock/Barrier: A simple obstacle now requires a test to overcome.

Serious Trouble (3 SB)

• Reinforcements: Additional fog-knights, spirits, or Aeler forces arrive.

• Key Gear Breaks: A crucial tool/weapon becomes temporarily unusable.

• Major Twist: The situation fundamentally changes — bell-line fails/ward broken/mist claims name.

• Rail Tick: Advance a relevant campaign/front timer by 1 segment.

• Condition Applied: Mark Fatigue 1/Harm 1/Condition appropriate to fiction.

Major Turns (4+ SB)

• Trap Springs: A prepared danger activates with full effect.

• Authority Arrival: Legate, Lord Warden, or Mist-Seer intervenes.

• Scene Shift: The environment changes dramatically — mist thickens/bells ring/forest breathes.

• Patron Omen: Divine/arcane forces take notice — omen appears/blessing lost/curse manifests.

• Narrative Pivot: The story takes an unexpected turn that reframes objectives.

Region-Specific SB Options

• Mistlands (Bells & Breath): Bells ring without cause, breath forms visible words, mirrors reflect wrong faces.

• Mistlands (Salt & Warding): Salt refuses to dry, ward-runes bleed color, protection tokens crack.

• Mistlands (Direwood Threat): Trees whisper your name, roots shift position, forest breath grows stronger.

Pursuit Ladder (Near / Mid / Far)

• Advance/Withdraw (Wits + Navigation): On a hit, shift one band. On a strong hit, also impose Fog Bank.

• Silence the Bell (Presence + Stealth): On a hit, freeze range for one exchange; if a ward-salt pouch is in your possession,  + 1 die.

• Weather the Tide (Endurance + Survival): On a hit in Tide-Mist, you pick who keeps their bearings; on a miss, the GM does.

Boss Seeds (Bell & Breath)

• The Ninth Bell Ringer (Direwood herald) — Phases: Lost Names → Broken Lines → Open Gate. Cracks: restore a ringbook; trade a breath; rehang a forbidden bell with copper nails.

• Queen of Counting Lights (fae arbiter) — Phases: Courtesies → Geas-Market → Counting of Leaves. Cracks: return stolen way-marks; speak said and meant; gild the iron.

• Reed-Wolf Captain (Linn raider) — Phases: Smoke Signals → Night Oars → Thing Verdict. Cracks: name a feud-token; win a skald-duel; force harbour-truce under bell and banner.

In the Mistlands, power flows through ritual, warding, and the careful balance between the living and the dead. The Aeler Protectorate maintains nominal control through military presence and legal frameworks, but true authority lies with those who understand the bells, the salt, and the breath of the land itself. Local wardens, salt-monks, and bell-keepers hold sway over daily life, while the Legate of the Mists mediates between imperial law and ancient custom.

For the GM: Patronage in the Mistlands revolves around protection — from mist, from spirits, from the encroaching forest. Rewards often take the form of tokens, seals, or safe passage that can be turned into greater shelter. To emphasize the folk-horror feel:

• Tie rewards to visible symbols (salt, bells, lanterns) that can be challenged, depleted, or voided by the mist itself.

• Let rival factions (Protectorate vs. bell-wardens vs. Direwood refugees) issue conflicting protections, forcing players to choose whose favor matters more.

• Use the levees, ferries, and watchtowers as arenas for social contests, where knowledge of the old ways (counting breaths, naming spirits, offering salt) determines success.

In the Mistlands, your safety is your standing, and your standing depends on who remembers your name.

Black Barrow Keep — The Ruin Above Payden’s Port

Looming over the eastern edge of Payden’s Port, Black Barrow Keep is a jagged wound in the skyline. Its basalt walls weep salt, and its broken towers lean into the fog like old men listening for a bell that never rings. The Aelinnel built it in a forgotten age—not as a fortress, but as a workshop. Here, they forged bell-automata, copper sentinels, and the first ward-lines that still keep the Direwood at bay. When the Mistlands became a Protectorate, the Aelinnel sealed the deep forges and retreated. The locals say the keep is haunted. The truth is worse: it is not haunted—it is occupied.

Below the keep, the catacombs stretch down through nine known levels. Each level was sealed by a different generation of wrights: Aeler engineers, Aelinnel bell-smiths, Linn shipwrights, and older crafts whose names are scrubbed from the records. The lowest level is said to contain a working that has been ticking since before the Hollow learned to count.

Accessing the Keep: The main gate is chained with a bell-lock that requires a copper key and the correct sequence of rings (eight, never nine). Side entrances include a collapsed ropeway from the salt pans, a flooded stair from the Ghost-Ferry Slip, and a smugglers’ tunnel that exits near the Gray Hospice. The Protectorate has officially sealed the keep, but wardens look the other way for a share of salvage—or a story about what moves in the deep.

To use: Roll once for the room, then optionally roll again for a resident, hazard, or treasure from the appropriate tables in §, §, or §. For the deeper catacombs, increase the DV of all spirit-related rolls by 1 and add a Stale Air timer [4] at the start of each scene.

Factions in the Keep

• The Bell-Wrights’ Ghosts: Ancient Aelinnel spirits who still maintain the lower forges. They ignore the living unless the forges are disturbed. Offerings of copper nails or a correctly rung bell will buy safe passage.

• The Protectorate Salvage Team: Aeler engineers and a squad of fog-knights, ostensibly “surveying” the keep for hazards. They will confiscate any working bell they find and arrest anyone without a Protectorate writ. Their captain has a brass hand that is also a tuning fork.

• The Hollow’s Anticipators: A cult that believes the keep was built to contain the Hollow’s attention. They leave offerings of salt and silence. They are not dangerous — but they will follow you, writing down every bell you ring and every name you speak.

Catacombs Depth Timer

For expeditions that descend below the first sub-level, track a Depth Timer [6]. Each time the party descends a stair, uses the unstable lift, or passes a sealed door, tick the timer. At 3 segments: all navigation rolls gain  + 1 DV (the walls shift). At 6 segments: the party reaches a sealed level that requires a bell-key, a blood offering, or a true name to open. The deepest level (Depth 6 or more) connects to the Ways Between — a mistake may drop the party into the Hollow’s own threshold.

Ykrul

Wolf Standards, Winter Camps.

The steppe remembers every oath sworn beneath its endless sky, and the wolf-standards carry the honor of clans that have outlasted empires. To lead here is to keep the old ways sharp as winter steel.

I am a Herd-Scout. I can read a trail by the way the grass bends—and a lie by the way a rider sits. The Ykrul don’t measure wealth in silver; we measure it in hoofbeats, in the snort of a warhorse at dawn, in the weight of a promise kept through winter.

We do not build monuments. We build relationships, each one a stone in an invisible cairn that stretches from the Dolmis to the Aberderrin. A camp is a weave of favors owed and honor satisfied. A feud is a slow equation: blood in, blood out, with interest compounded by winter.

The Khagan’s Court doesn’t rule from a throne—it rules from a saddle. Our ”laws“ are the Thirty-Six Sayings of the Road, and the thirty-seventh is the one you learn alone, on a night when the stars blink out and the wolf does not howl.

Never ride between two wolves at dusk. The space between them is a blind angle—a route with no exit, a debt with no payment. The wolves know this. They choose the gap deliberately.

— Sogata, Herd-Scout, who has never been lost but has been found many times

What do people eat for breakfast? Fermented mare’s milk and dried meat—the milk is drunk warm from the skin, the meat is sliced thin and dried on saddle-pommels. The meat carries the taste of horse sweat. The milk carries the taste of the steppe. Both are acquired. Both are necessary.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To sit a horse. Ykrul children are placed on a horse before they can stand. The horse is old, patient, and knows the child’s weight. A child who falls is a child who learns to hold tighter. A child who cannot ride is a child who cannot eat.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their braids. Ykrul warriors braid their hair with clan colors—red for the Wolf Clan, black for the Iron Horse, gray for the Salt Steppe. A stranger whose braids are cut has been shamed. A stranger whose braids are dyed black has killed a clan-mate. A stranger with no braids has no clan. A stranger with no clan is prey.

What is the most common crime? Horse theft. A stolen horse is a stolen relative. The price is blood—the thief’s or the owner’s. The courts are the council fires. The evidence is the horse’s memory. Horses remember faces. Horses remember smells. Horses do not lie.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Khagan is not chosen by blood. He is chosen by the horse. Every five years, the clan chiefs lead their best stallions to the sacred ring. The horse that steps forward first chooses the next Khagan. The horse has not stepped forward in twenty years. The council chooses by silence. The silence is growing loud.

Where do people go when they die? To the sky. Ykrul dead are placed on open platforms, wrapped in felt, and left for the wind and the birds. The bones are collected after a year and ground into powder. The powder is mixed with clay and fired into beads. The beads are worn by the dead’s descendants. The beads are warm. The warmth is memory.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You offer a hostage string—a braided cord that ties your wrist to the wronged party’s. The cord is cut when the apology is accepted. If the cord is cut before the apology is finished, you are not forgiven. If the cord is never cut, you are bound. The binding is lifelong. The binding is called ”friend.“

What is the most important festival? The First Grass (spring equinox). The herds are released onto the new pasture. The riders race to the horizon and back. The winner names the summer camps. The loser tends the sick animals. The sick animals are always the loser’s. The loser always wins next year.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Sky-Speaker is a fraud. She cannot call storms. She cannot read omens. She cannot speak to the dead. She is a horse-witch who learned to read the clouds. The clouds are reliable. The Khagan does not know. The Khagan does not want to know.

Ykrul — “Wolf Standards, Winter Camps”

Key Demographics: Ykrul Capital City: Midh-Kakorum

Entanglements

To the South East:

Aeler – The mountain passes are sealed by dwarvish tariffs and breath-counters; the Khagan’s word is the only passport. Iron flows south; grain flows north when the snows permit.

To the South West:

Vilikari / Acasia – The Foedus Stone and the grass-lands are the eternal negotiation; raids settle what treaties cannot. The hostage strings are the true currency of the border.

To the South:

Ecktoria – Legates tally supplies as Ykrul riders stand, silhoettes across the sea of grass.

To the North:

The Iron Grass (Kuvani) – Remount clans and rival khagans watch the horizon; alliances shift with the seasons. The wind carries the names of the dead; the dead carry the grudges.

Quick Reference

Tagline: The steppe owes nothing. The wolf pays no debts. Only the fool plays for beauty; the wise play for the exit.

Khatun Bortai of the Ring (Elite): “We do not dream on the steppe. We count. We measure breath, grain, and the length of a blade. My grandfather taught me Kon’reh before I could hunt: the board is dirt, the pieces are sheep-bones, and the lesson is always the same—the game ends when one side has no roads left. Politics is merely the same game played with living pieces. To lead here is to know when to trade, when to raid, and when to ride away. Sentiment is a luxury of farmers. We are the children of the horse, the wind, and the knife.”

Herd-Scout Sogata (Commoner): “Kon’reh teaches that the straight road is a lie. The wise shepherd knows the river bends not from weakness, but from wisdom. We are practical folk. A horse that cannot carry you is meat. An oath that cannot be kept is smoke. Speak true, ride steady, and always count your exits before you enter. The steppe does not forgive the beautiful mistake—only the useful truth.”

Genre / Mood: Nomadic epic, pragmatic cunning, wind-scoured honor, Scythian steppe.

Starting Location: A winter camp on the steppe edge, banners snapping in frost-bright wind as the Khagan’s fires burn low in the east. A Khatun of the Ring offers a clay cup of salted tea. “The Khagan’s kin ride from the salt pan. The old sayings say the straight road is a lie. You came by the bent path—the wolf knows you. Speak your errand before the wind changes. Trade is welcome; lies are tallied.”

The Ykrul ride the endless Violet Steppe, where the horizon drinks the sky and survival is a game played without mercy. They are a pragmatic people—harder and more practical than the settled folk of the south. Sentiment is a waste of breath; beauty is a fool’s consolation. Their philosophy is not written in books but scratched in the dirt boards of Kon’reh, a game of encirclement, escape, and blockade played with pebbles and sheep-bones. Every child learns before they can hunt: count your exits before you enter, never commit to a single path, and an ally untested is a blade without a sheath. This is not mysticism. It is arithmetic. The steppe is a hard teacher, and the Ykrul are its starkest students.

What outsiders call “geometry” the Ykrul call the Count—the simple, bone-deep understanding that every route has a price, every camp has a weakness, and every alliance is only as strong as the remounts that sustain it. Their law lives in saddlebags. Every crossing has its toll, every ford its depth, every feud a reckoning measured in horse-lengths and heartbeats. Hosts gather by the thousand, then scatter at a word; one night you share their fires, the next they test your bonds. Their banners are wolves’ teeth, their treaties braided cords, their memory longer than the rivers that cut the grass. The old folk still recite the Thirty-Six Sayings of the Road, but the wisest know the thirty-seventh is the one you learn alone, on a night when the stars blink out and the wolf does not howl.

What you notice first: The smell of horse sweat and woodsmoke. The way every rider counts hoofbeats under their breath. The silence when a stranger approaches the fire. The cold assessment in every eye—not hostile, merely reckoning value.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never ride between two wolves at dusk. The space between them is a snare with no exit. In Kon’reh it is called the Closed Circle; in life it is called death.

In any Ykrul camp, the ninth cup poured at a feast is for the ancestors. The wise pour eight and leave the ninth as a pause. Those who pour the ninth cup find that the ancestors drink—and the ancestors are always thirsty. The next morning, the pourer’s shadow is one inch shorter. If the same person pours the ninth cup nine times, their shadow vanishes entirely, and they become a ghost rider, forever counting cups at the edge of the firelight.

Regional Mood: The Pragmatism of the Steppe

Here, the horizon is not a line—it is a reckoning. The Ykrul measure distance in oaths and remounts, not miles. A camp is a weave of debts owed and honor satisfied, audited by the Camp-Mother’s sharp eyes. A feud is a slow equation: blood in, blood out, with interest compounded by winter. The Khagan rules not by force alone but by keeping the old calculations—the unwritten rules that govern every crossing, every treaty, every duel. Break the pattern, and the steppe itself may turn against you. Keep it, and even enemies will share their salt, though they will count the grains. The Ykrul build no monuments. They build relationships, each one a stone in an invisible cairn that stretches from the Dolmis to the Aberderrin, and each one valued only so long as it holds weight.

Prominent NPCs of the Ykrul

Names of the Ykrul

Inspired by the open steppe and the deep east: guttural stops, flowing vowels, and suffixes that mark lineage or deed.

(Steppe Road/Winter Ring/Ford)

Wolf Road milepost of stacked stones with wind whining through eye-holes; winter camp ring with felt tents in horseshoe facing wind.

Using the Ykrul Deck

Draw until you have all four suits: Spade = place, Heart = actor, Club = pressure, Diamond = leverage. Highest rank sets the main Timer (2–5 → 4, 6–10 → 6, J/Q/K → 8, A → 10).

Diamonds are codified outcomes (passes/remounts/truces) that change position rather than call for a roll.

If any Ace appears, echo steppe and sky motifs—wind that speaks, horses that remember, treaties that bind across generations, and the cold arithmetic of Kon’reh made manifest.

Spades — Places

Steppe Road, Winter Ring, Ford

[Travel]Stacked stones; wind whines through eye-holes. Each stone is a tally. Remove one, and the wind names you debtor.

[Travel]Low corral with stamped snow and tether-posts. The tether-posts are carved with the names of dead horses. The living ones remember.

[Ritual]Above black-earth tracks; old offerings in the bark. The offerings are strips of wool. Each strip is a prayer for safe crossing.

[Weight]Crusted white; hoof-prints like stars across the void. The pan has a name: “The Khagan’s Mirror.” Look into it, and you see what you owe.

[Travel]River braids; poles mark yesterday’s safe line. The poles shift in the night. The river’s path changes with the moon.

[Trade]Way-post with wolf-skull pennons snapping. The skulls face outward. They watch for liars and bad weights.

[Social]Felt tents in a horseshoe facing the wind. The open end is for guests. The closed end is for the ancestors.

[Death]Low barrows; horse-bones bead the grass like prayer beads. The bones were placed by a bone-singer. Each bead is a name.

[Weather]Lonely tor with signal fire-scar; the eye of the steppe. The fire-scar is from a signal that saved a host. The smoke still smells of hope.

[Travel]Laced hides creak; the current speaks fast and hungry. The hides are from horses that died crossing. Their ghosts still pull.

[Social]Standards planted; the ground tamped like a war-drum. The standards have ears. Speak a treason here, and every clan will know by dawn.

[Authority]Broad ger on a timber platform; guards in silence. The guards never blink. They are paid in salt and secrets.

[Mystery]Open, wind like a voice; tracks keep pace beside you. The tracks are not yours. They belong to the ancestors who ride with you.

Hearts — People & Factions

Host, Envoy, Rider

[Travel]Three ponies and six opinions; the horizon as a map. He can read a trail by the way the grass bends. He can read a liar by the way a rider checks his exits.

[Social]Chooses where fires live; hospitality is law. She has never drawn a blade. She has never needed to.

[Combat]Minding the wolves’ tooth standard; pride as duty. The standard is older than his grandmother’s grandmother. He will die before it falls.

[Trade]Weighs promises like grain; trade as precision. Her scales are honest—because a dishonest scale is a broken tool, and tools are expensive.

[Travel]String-master with a book of brands; horses as currency. His book is written in hoof-prints. He can read a horse’s soul.

[Death]Knows the kurgans’ proper names; death as memory. She sings the names of the dead each dawn. The dead sing back.

[Law]Tümen scribe with seals and a patient ear. His seals are from three empires. He uses whichever one is still valid.

[Social]Silver paiza, iron smile; diplomacy as a blade. His paiza was a gift from a Khagan who is now dead. He does not mention that.

[Combat]The tent-wall is a map; strategy in every fold. He can see a battle in the way smoke rises. He is usually right.

[Travel]Leather gauntlets, answers sooner than asked. The falcon is a sleeper agent. It belongs to a different clan. The courier doesn’t know.

[Law]Keeper of camp-law and hostage strings. Her strings are braided from the hair of hostages. She knows each strand’s owner.

[Social]A nephew or niece sent to bind a foedus with a look. They have never lost a negotiation. They have never needed to speak.

[Magic]Shaman of storms; shortcuts owe them a price. They can call lightning—or call it off. The price is always a story.

Clubs — Complications/Threats

Law, Weather, Feud

[Weather]Dry snow, lost horizons; navigation by gut and horse sense. The snow tastes of iron. Someone is bleeding nearby.

[Weather]The road becomes porridge; wheels are lies on the earth. The mud has a smell—old blood and older lies.

[Death]A cough in the string; swaps get awkward, trust thinner. The cough is a curse. The horses know who cast it.

[Weight]Meat spoils; tempers thin like winter air. The salt was cut with grave dust. Someone wanted the winter to be hard.

[Social]Protocol invoked; someone must sit in the tent. The tent has no floor. The hostage can see the earth beneath—and the bones.

[Weight]A name spoken wrong reopens an old debt; blood is the only coin that pays. The name was spelled correctly. The insult was in the pause before it.

[Disaster]Runs with the wind faster than horses; escape as a prayer. The fire has a face. It is the face of a Khagan who burned a village.

[Law]Treaty terms re-read; your papers disagree. The treaty was written on both sides. The other side used a different ink.

[Travel]Ice goes; ferries don’t; crossing becomes a gamble. The ice is still thick in the middle. The edges are lying.

[Combat]Another banner follows at a patient distance. They are not attacking. They are waiting for you to make a mistake.

[Social]Camps converge; travel becomes politics. The kurultai has a list of grievances. Your name is near the top.

[Authority]A levy raised; every road a checkpoint, every rider a judge. The muster horn is a wolf’s skull. It sounds like a scream.

[Omen]Three suns, or none; routes rewrite themselves. The omen is a wedge of cranes flying north in winter. The sky is wrong.

Diamonds — Rewards/Leverage

Pass, Remount, Truce

[Social]One night’s lawful fire and fodder; hospitality as a right. The token is a horsehair braid. Burn it to claim your fire.

[Trade]Draw from a named store without quarrel. The allotment is a salt-cake. Break it in half to share.

[Travel]Cross a named braid at lawful depth. The right is a pole. Plant it in the river, and the ford will hold—once.

[Travel]Swap two tired mounts for fresh. The chit is a horse’s tooth. The remount keeper will not smile when you present it.

[Travel]Two riders see you through a bad stretch. The braid is woven from the riders’ own hair. They will die before they cut it.

[Social]Place or take token-kin for a truce. The hostage is a child. The child is patient.

[Authority]Priority on the Wolf Road and at posts. The tablet is bronze. It is warm when your reputation is good.

[Law]A treaty clause that trumps petty order. The seal is a wolf’s head. Press it into wax, and the steppe listens.

[Trade]Trade under a banner; weapons sheathed. The banner is a green field. No blood may be spilled beneath it.

[Combat]Travel under wolf-tooth; raiders defer. The standard is a wolf’s tooth on a pole. Raiders will bow—or die.

[Social]The Khatun hears you alone; precedent sticks. The audience is held at midnight. The fire is the only witness.

[Authority]Doors open, mouths close across the steppe. The writ is a sheet of hammered silver. It bends, but it does not break.

[Weather]Once, the weather ignores you (storm, whiteout, dust). The exception is a single breath. Use it well.

Ykrul Mechanics

Core Rules

Kon’reh — The Game of the Steppe

The Ykrul do not speak of “geometry.” They speak of Kon’reh, a dirt-board game of encirclement, escape, and blockade played with pebbles and bone. Every Ykrul child learns its lessons: count your exits before you enter; never commit to a single path; a screen of light pieces can trap a heavy king; the best move is the one your opponent thinks you have forgotten. In Ykrul culture, Kon’reh is not recreation—it is education. A war-council may be fought out on a Kon’reh board before a single arrow is nocked. A treaty may be argued as a series of moves and counter-moves. When a Ykrul says “the Count,” they mean the cold reckoning of advantage: remounts, routes, grain-days, and the price of a blade in winter.

In play: When a Ykrul NPC evaluates an offer or a threat, they are playing Kon’reh in their head. Social rolls against Ykrul suffer +1 DV unless the player can demonstrate a “route of escape” (an exit, a concession, or a hostage) that makes the deal survivable for both sides.

Hostage Strings [4]

Every oath is secured with a hostage string—a token kin, retainer, or sworn ally left in the other camp. If the deal is broken, the hostage’s fate becomes the story’s next beat. Mechanically: create a 4-segment Hostage timer for any major treaty. On breach, the timer becomes a countdown to vengeance. Ykrul take hostages as a matter of course; refusing to give one is treated as a declaration of bad faith.

Steppe Law

Travelers are bound by steppe law: hospitality lasts three nights, insults last three generations. The Keeper may demand 1 SB when either law is broken. The three nights are measured by the Camp-Mother’s fire; the three generations are measured by the Bone-Singer’s memory.

Sky Omens

When the sky shows strange signs—mock-suns, green fire, thunder without storm—the steppe itself speaks. Once per scene, players may treat an omen as a Diamond, shifting Position without a roll. The GM may bank 1 SB for future weather complications. Pragmatic Ykrul treat omens as weather-data misread by the fearful; even so, they do not ride against them.

Bowl and Board

Ykrul elders settle disputes not by shouting but by drawing two circles in the dirt: the Bowl for fairness, then the Board for routes and concessions. A successful Wits + Lore (or relevant skill) roll creates a Seasonal Concession String at a ford, harbor, or pass. On a miss, the Market Moot [4] timer advances as factions argue.

Local Patrons

• The Hoof — The Traveler. The path that never ends, the remount that never tires.

• The Wolf’s Tooth — The Witness. Every oath is counted. Every broken promise is a scar.

• The Salt Throat — Maelstraeus. The weight that salts your tongue; the interest that blinds your horses.

• The Sky Father — Kuva. The wind that carries names; the storm that erases them.

The Thirty-Seven Sayings of the Road (Excerpts)

The Ykrul teach strategy not in manuals but in proverbs—each a line of play from Kon’reh. A few of the most quoted:

Let the river freeze before you cross. — Do not rush. Let the opponent make the first move; your opening will be built on their impatience.

Borrow a corridor to trap a king. — When the enemy carves a path toward you, let it deepen. Then seal the mouth behind them.

Loot a burning house. — Strike only when the enemy is committed elsewhere.

Hide your dagger behind a smile. — Threaten one flank; strike the other.

The reed bends, the oak breaks. — Yield to overwhelming force, but do not break; preserve your core.

A distant banner casts no shadow. — A threat far away is no threat at all; control the center.

The guest who outstays his welcome steals the host’s peace. — Allow no force, however small, to remain within your lines uncontrolled.

Count exits, not victims. — Before you move, count the ways your foe can flee. If the number is greater than zero, you have not yet won.

Superstitions (burn for +1 die once)

• Salt to the Wind: Toss a pinch into the air before a long ride. Ignore the first White Squall penalty.

• Knot the String: Tie a single knot in a hostage cord. Cancel Feud Spark or take –1 die on your next oath (your choice).

• Name to the Kurgan: Whisper a dead enemy’s name into a horse’s ear. Gain +1 Effect when raiding their clan this scene, but mark Obligation to the Bone-Singer.

Strain Budget (SB) Spends

Minor (1 SB)

• Exposure: Road-judges or border riders take notice.

• Noise: A nearby camp or raiding party is alerted.

• Trace: Hoofprints or broken grass mark your route for feud-kin.

• Delay: A horse throws a shoe, a rope breaks—lose time.

• Supply Strain: Mark +1 segment on fodder or water timer.

Moderate (2 SB)

• Alarm Raised: A watch kopje signals; riders are coming.

• Position Lost: Rasputitsa or white squall hides the trail.

• Foe Appears: A raid shadow or hostage taker arrives.

• Gear Trouble: A saddle snaps, a bowstring frays.

• Lock/Barrier: A river breaks, a ford becomes impassable.

Serious (3 SB)

• Reinforcements: A wolf muster or kurultai war party arrives.

• Key Gear Breaks: A horse goes lame, a paiza cracks.

• Major Twist: A grassfire cuts off retreat, or a feud spark escalates.

• Rail Tick: Advance a campaign timer (e.g. Hostage Crisis).

• Condition Applied: Mark Exhausted or Marked by Feud.

Major (4+ SB)

• Trap Springs: A hidden kurgan collapses, a pontoon sinks.

• Authority Arrival: Khatun of the Ring, Khagan’s Kin, or Sky-Speaker intervenes.

• Scene Shift: A sky omen rewrites the terrain; paths appear or vanish.

• Patron Omen: A wolf watches, a horse speaks, the wind carries a name.

• Narrative Pivot: The feud is not what it seemed; the hostage was a willing sacrifice.

Region-Specific SB Options

• Steppe Law: Hospitality fails, insults echo, treaties shift mid-parley.

• Horse Culture: Mounts refuse to move, remount posts are empty, riding rolls suffer –1 die.

• Sky Omens: Weather changes instantly, stars point the wrong way, a raven shadows the party.

Extensions (Plug-in)

Pursuit Ladder (Near / Mid / Far)

• Advance/Withdraw (Wits + Ride): On a hit, shift one band. On a strong hit, also impose Dust Cloud.

• Cut the Herd (Presence + Sway): On a hit, freeze range for one exchange; if a remount chit is in your possession, +1 die.

• Weather the Squall (Endurance + Survival): On a hit in White Squall, you pick who keeps their bearings; on a miss, the GM does.

Terrain Stock (d20)

Roll or choose a striking detail to dress a hex of the Violet Steppe.

1. Wolf milepost with fresh red thread; someone retied the law.

2. Reed ford poles lying on bank; current whispers a different depth.

3. Fallen standard tooth used as a chopping block; grooves still warm.

4. Circle of pony skulls facing east; one blinks when the wind shifts.

5. Snow trench with cudgel steps; no prints leave it.

6. Copper salt-scale hung from a birch; pans balance only under oath.

7. Hoof-bells threaded on hair; ringing calls riders—or storms.

8. Abandoned paiza shard wedged in a milestone; edges bite skin.

9. Kurgan capstone chalked with a name misspelled; feud waiting.

10. Flint knapper’s tarp half-buried; a perfect arrowhead points north.

11. Blue-fletched signal arrow stuck in frost; message in the vane.

12. Camp-sweep marks: three rings—last night was a council.

13. Wheel rut frozen like glass; a face looks up from inside.

14. Salt-brined jerky hanging from a tripod; untouched by birds.

15. River ice singing in thirds; ferryman’s pole wedged under.

16. Pony hobble-rope knotted in hostage-string pattern.

17. Cold forge dug into loess; tools wrapped in wolfskin.

18. Child’s braid-bead dropped in snow; still warm to the tongue.

19. Thorn-tether scratched with clan brands; two over-scratched.

20. Bone flute lodged in a cairn; playing it summons a road-judge.

Lair Seeds (One-Page Rides)

1. Ger of Echoes — Empty felt walls repeat anything uttered in the Khagan’s voice once per night.

2. Salt-Pit Shrine — Rope winch to brine caverns; offerings are tears and horsehair.

3. Remount Vault — Subterranean stables under reed mats; mounts won’t leave without a tale.

4. Kite-Maker’s Bluff — Bone kites pinned on racks; their shadows scout for raiders.

5. Storm-Rider’s Stone — Pillar that hums to hooves; racing round it sets weather wagers.

6. Frozen Court — Ice dais in a dry riverbed; law held here counts triple until thaw.

7. Banner Grave — Flags planted like trees; each knows the battle it died in.

8. String-Mother’s Yard — Web of hostage cords; cutting one opens a secret but starts a feud.

9. Fire-Under-Snow — Warm vent where foals winter; spirits ask for salt-song.

10. Quiet Palisade — Trading post where voices fail; deals done in gesture and cut meat.

11. Ashen Trident — Three lightning-split birches; tie a braid to choose a road’s luck.

12. Gray Ger — Moves at night; inside, a camp-mother tests your hospitality the other way around.

Steppe Bestiary (Palette)

• Steppe Manticores — Lionine torsos, porcupine tails of bone quills. Signs: quills in fence-posts; ponies refuse to drink. Hook: play a raid-song backward; they circle to listen.

• Dust Hulks — Wind-packed silhouettes that rise from dunes. Signs: dunes “breathe”; grit sifts upward. Hook: spill water on their shadow; they settle for a watch.

• Bone Kites — Carrion birds with rune-etched pinions. Signs: spiral flights over kurgans. Hook: offer a name-stake (twig with hair) to barter silence.

• Frost Wargs — Blue-pelt wolves that steam cold. Signs: rime on tracks; breath that crackles. Hook: warm milk poured on ice buys one unchallenged crossing.

• Reed Stalkers — Long-necked marsh hunters, gait like stilts. Signs: pole-pocks where no ferryman walks. Hook: carry reeds in your mouth; they read it as truce.

• Salt Screamers — Pale eels in dry pans; voices like flutes. Signs: fissures crusted with salt frost. Hook: scatter ash; they coil to sing and forget to bite.

Relic & Find (d10)

When you uncover a kurgan cache or a lost hoard, roll or pick:

1. Wolf-tooth standard tip; planted, it demands silence for parley.

2. Bronze paiza half; merchants honor it as full once—then talk.

3. Salt-needle that points to the nearest brine store.

4. Frost-bitten stirrup; mount that wears it ignores ice once.

5. Braid-bead of hostage glass; melts when a string is cut nearby.

6. River-depth rod carved with safe counts for three fords.

7. Iron hoof-bell that rings for liars at council.

8. Bone-lot cup; roll it to name which feud clause applies.

9. Wind-wrung scarf; pass it round to share breath in a white squall.

10. Wolf-road tablet scrap; reads as a Foedus Seal to one clerk.

Complication Twists (d8)

When a travel complication arises, roll or choose a twist that deepens the story.

1. White Squall reveals a remount vault’s smoke hole; entering angers reed stalkers.

2. Rasputitsa exposes kurgan stones; riding around them starts a name-claim.

3. Feud Spark was staged by a salt-broker; paying in Salt Allotment unmasks them.

4. Hostage Call is for a Safe-Hostage you already carry—by another name.

5. Grassfire runs uphill toward a council hollow; smoke votes before riders do.

6. Foedus Recall cites a river you crossed yesterday—now it flows the other way.

7. Raid Shadow is your own tracks, mirrored by sky omens; choose which you admit.

8. Kurultai Call stacks councils; words spoken in one bind you in the other.

Boss Seeds (Three-Phase Foes)

• The String-Mother (Nine Hostages) — Phases: Knot → Tighten → Sever. Cracks: return a hostage string, win a Bowl and Board arbitration, cut the right knot.

• The Dust Prince (Rider of the Red Wind) — Phases: Raid Shadow → Salt Tithe → Kurultai Coup. Cracks: spill a salt allotment in his path, unmask his face before the council, outride him through a white squall.

Lore Echoes (Cross-Expansion Hooks)

• The Bitter Root: Daughters of the Cord run a hospice near the salt pans. They ask no payment—but they cut threads. A renegade Sister hides among the herders, trying to untie her cord from a Ykrul blood-weight.

• The Threshold Compendium: The kurgans are Class II Anchor sites—the spirits of old Khagans bound by unfinished wergild. Saikou Ira would carry a bag of salt in each hand here.

• Malachai, the Chained Angel: A silver coin that never spends circulates among the salt-brokers. Take it, and your store never runs dry—but the coin will reappear in the salt pan at every new moon.

• The Gray Wanderer’s Grimoire: Ykrul psions are called “Weather-Readers.” They taste the future in the wind. Road-judges employ two—and have never trusted a verdict they didn’t hear from the sky.

Ykrul of the Eastern Steppe — The Iron Grass Clans

The wind is colder here, and so are the hearts. We do not forget an insult because we cannot afford to. The grass is thinner, the wolves are bolder, and the sky speaks only in threats. The western Ykrul trade in stories. We trade in teeth.

Eastern Khatun (Elite): “The westerners count their weights in silk and verses. We count ours in frost and iron. A broken oath here is not a story for the skald—it is a hole in the winter larder. We do not forgive because we cannot. The Hollow rides with us every night. We have no room for mercy, and even less for poetry. Kon’reh is still our teacher, but the board is frozen, and the pieces are bones.”

The Eastern Ykrul share blood with their Violet Steppe cousins, but generations on the harsher eastern ranges—where the Kuvani horse clans also roam—have carved them into a different shape. They are more isolationist, more pragmatic, and their honor code has less room for talk. They live among the Kuvani but do not intermarry; they trade when the snows allow, raid when the grass is thin, and speak a dialect that grinds like stones in a riverbed. Outsiders call them the Iron Grass Clans. They call themselves Those Who Remember Winter.

Eastern Variations (Use with Ykrul Core)

When generating an Eastern Ykrul camp, clan, or encounter, roll on the tables below instead of (or in addition to) the standard Ykrul generators.

Eastern Clan Trait (d6)

1. Frost-Bitten: The clan survives on the edge of the permafrost. +1 die to Survival in cold weather, but –1 die to all social rolls with lowlanders (they stink of frozen horse).

2. Kuvani-Kin: This clan has traded with the Kuvani for generations. They speak the Kuvani tongue and may call on one Kuvani remount station per journey. Rivals whisper they have forgotten the old ways.

3. Wolf-Pacted: The clan has a standing truce with a local wolf pack. Wolves do not attack their herds. In exchange, the clan leaves every ninth calf unbranded—for the wolves. The pack sometimes fights beside them in battle (Cap 2, appears once per arc).

4. Salt-Misers: This clan controls a small, bitter salt pan. They trade salt for iron with the Kuvani. They are wealthy but paranoid; any visitor is assumed to be a spy. +1 die to detect deception, but starting Position in parley is Desperate.

5. Curse-Bearers: A broken oath from three generations ago still hangs over the clan. Their horses are prone to sickness, and their children are born with gray eyes. They seek a way to lift the curse—and will do almost anything to find it.

6. Road-Breakers: This clan claims the right to open or close the high passes east. They carry a brass key (actually a bronze paiza) that Kuvani caravans recognize. They are isolationist, proud, and quick to draw steel over matters of passage.

Eastern Steppe Hazards (d6)

When traveling through Eastern Ykrul territory, roll for a hazard (or replace a standard Clubs draw).

1. Frost-Rime Grass: The grass is coated in a crystalline frost that cuts horse legs. Travel speed halved for one leg. On a failed Survival roll, one mount goes lame (mark 1 Fatigue or lose 1 Supply).

2. Wolf Howl at Dusk: A pack shadows the party for a day and a night. They will not attack unless the party is weak or separated. If a character sleeps alone, roll Spirit+Endurance (DV 3) or be found by wolves at midnight.

3. Ice Lens Mirage: The flat steppe plays tricks. Navigation rolls suffer –1 die for the leg. On a miss, the party wanders into a kurgan field—the dead are restless. Start a Spirit Attention [4] timer.

4. Salt Pan Crack: A dried salt pan has a hidden fissure. A horse or wagon breaks through. Lose 1 Supply (salt pork ruined) and mark 1 Fatigue for the party as they pull the animal free.

5. Kuvani Border Markers: The party has crossed into a Kuvani grazing ground without permission. Kuvani riders appear (Cap 2, non-hostile unless provoked). They demand a story or a small offering of salt. Refusal starts a Border Dispute [4] timer.

6. Silent Sky: No birds, no wind, no insect sounds. The Hollow is near. For the next scene, any roll that shows a 1 also summons a Oath-Keeper—it will appear at the end of the scene to ask one question. Answer poorly, and it takes a memory.

Eastern Ykrul Encounter (d8)

When meeting an Eastern Ykrul camp or patrol, roll for their initial disposition and a twist.

1. Hungry Hosts: The camp is low on supplies. They will trade—at ruinous prices. But they will also remember a fair deal. If you overpay (give 1 extra Supply), gain a String (Eastern Ykrul favor).

2. Grieving Clan: A child died last night. The camp is in mourning. They will not trade or talk. If you offer a true story about a lost loved one, they will share a meal.

3. Feud-Watch: The clan is on alert for raiders from a rival banner. They mistake the party for scouts. The first social roll is at Desperate Position. A successful Deception or Bribe (cost 1 Boon or 1 Supply) clears the misunderstanding.

4. Salt-Broker’s Caravan: A small caravan of salt traders, heavily armed. They are willing to trade salt for news of the west. They ask pointed questions about the Violet Steppe—they are planning a raid.

5. Kurgan Pilgrims: A group of bone-singers and their guards are traveling to a sacred kurgan. They will allow the party to accompany them if the party helps perform a ritual: each member must whisper a forgotten name into a horse skull. Afterwards, the party gains +1 die to resist fear for one day, but the Hollow knows one of your names.

6. Storm-Singer’s Challenge: A sky-speaker challenges the party to a weather-calling contest. Roll Spirit+Lore vs. DV 4. On a success, the storm-singer is impressed and grants a Sky’s Exception (ignore one weather hazard). On a failure, the party is drenched and loses 1 Fatigue.

7. Hollow-Touched Camp: The camp is silent. Everyone is sitting still, staring at a single point. A Oath-Keeper has passed through. If the party can speak the name of the broken oath, the camp will wake. Otherwise, they must leave an offering of salt and retreat.

8. Iron Grass Market: A rare gathering of three clans at a neutral ford. The market lasts only one day. Goods for sale: remounts (cost 1 Supply each), salt (1 Supply per 2 portions), iron arrowheads (1 Boon for 1 die bonus on next ranged attack), and one cursed paiza (half price, but the previous owner’s ghost follows).

Eastern Ykrul Customs (d6)

When interacting with an Eastern Ykrul camp, roll for a local custom that may affect social rolls.

1. No Left Hand: Offering anything with the left hand is an insult. All social rolls using Presence+Sway suffer –1 die unless you explicitly use your right hand.

2. Fire First, Talk Later: Guests must warm their hands at the central fire before speaking. If you refuse, the host will be offended—the first request you make is automatically refused.

3. The Empty Saddle: One saddle in the camp is always empty. It belongs to a rider who died last winter. If you sit in it, you must tell a story about a death you witnessed. If the story is true, the ghost may give you a warning (GM reveals one future hazard). If false, the ghost haunts you for a day (you gain the Haunted condition).

4. No Naming the Dead: Eastern Ykrul do not speak the names of the deceased for one year after death. If you accidentally name a dead person, the clan demands a blood-price: 1 Supply or a lock of your hair.

5. Salt Before Meat: A meal is not blessed until the host throws a pinch of salt into the fire. If you eat before the salt, you are considered an oath-breaker. The meal will not nourish you (you do not recover Fatigue from that rest).

6. The Ninth Breath: When drinking fermented mare’s milk, you must pause after the eighth sip. If you take a ninth, you must immediately name an enemy. The clan will consider that enemy as their own for one season. The enemy may not appreciate this.

Eastern Ykrul Superstitions (burn for +1 die once)

Add these to the standard Ykrul superstitions when in the eastern steppe.

• Iron to the Frost: Press a cold iron nail into the ground before a white squall. Ignore the first Frost-Rime Grass penalty.

• Braid the Tail: Tie a single knot in a horse’s tail hair. Cancel Wolf Howl at Dusk or take –1 die on your next survival roll (your choice).

• Name to the Hollow: Whisper a dead enemy’s name into a salt pan at midnight. Gain +1 Effect when evading Oath-Keepers this scene, but mark Obligation to the Eastern Khatun.

Eastern Ykrul Boss Seed (d6)

When the party faces a major antagonist from the Eastern Ykrul, roll for a unique foe.

1. The Frost-Khagan (Undying): A chieftain who froze to death but did not stop riding. Phases: Blizzard’s Call → Frozen Host → The Long Night. Cracks: burn a horse tooth in a fire, speak his true name (carved on his saddle), or offer a living rider to take his place.

2. The Salt-Throat (Cursed Broker): A salt merchant who sold his clan’s future for wealth. Phases: Weigh the Debt → Salt Tithe → The Scales Close. Cracks: pay a wergild in untainted salt, expose his false paiza, or cut his hostage string with a silver knife.

3. The Hollow’s Rider (Oath-Keeper in Flesh): A warrior who made a pact with the Hollow to survive a winter famine. Phases: Count the Breath → Ride the White → Claim the Ninth. Cracks: feed him a memory of warmth, show him a red thread tied in eight knots, or outride him to the horizon—the Hollow cannot cross moving water.

4. The Iron Grandmother (Bone-Singer Revenant): An ancient bone-singer who refused to die. Phases: Song of Names → Kurgan Rising → The Dead Vote. Cracks: sing a true name she does not know, return a stolen kurgan stone, or answer her riddle: “What weight is never paid?”

5. The Wolf-Banner (Pack-Leader): A clan chief who has fused with a wolf spirit. Phases: Stalk → Circle → Feast. Cracks: break his banner, offer a raw heart to his pack, or survive a night without fire.

6. The Sky-Weeping Child (Curse Bearer): A child born during a white squall, marked by the Hollow. Phases: Winter Dreams → Frost-Fever → The Ninth Day. Cracks: warm her hands with your own breath, speak her true name (her mother is still alive—she will tell you), or find the horse that was born at the same moment—it carries the other half of the curse.

Eastern Steppe Names (d8 each)

For quick NPC generation, roll or choose:

Male first names (d8): 1. Bortei, 2. Temurjin, 3. Khorchi, 4. Edil, 5. Sogata, 6. Toghrul, 7. Ogedei, 8. Chagatai.

Female first names (d8): 1. Orghana, 2. Borte, 3. Altan, 4. Saruul, 5. Checheg, 6. Nergui, 7. Tolui, 8. Hulan.

Clan epithets (d8): 1. Iron-Heart, 2. Frost-Mane, 3. Salt-Tongue, 4. Wolf-Brood, 5. Hollow-Sight, 6. Curse-Bearer, 7. Red-Hoof, 8. Silent-Banner.

Core Traits: Isolationist, pragmatic, harsher honor code, live among Kuvani but do not intermarry. Key Resources: Salt, iron, remounts, wolf truces, kurgan spirits. Common Conflicts: Feuds over salt pans, disputes with Kuvani over grazing, Hollow incursions in winter, curse-lifting quests. Tone: Bleaker than western Ykrul. Fewer stories, more teeth. Hospitality is still sacred—but the guest is expected to earn it. Ritual Objects: Frost-bitten stirrups, bronze paizas, horse-tooth chits, salt-cakes, wolf skull standards.

In Ykrul society, power flows through the careful management of hospitality, the binding of oaths with hostages, and the ability to navigate the complex web of tribal relationships. The Khagan maintains authority through the loyalty of noyans and the respect of khatuns, while local leaders wield influence through their control of resources like salt, remounts, and safe passage. The true power lies with those who understand the old calculations—the pragmatic reckonings of Kon’reh—and can maintain the delicate balance between hospitality and honor.

For the GM: Patronage in Ykrul society revolves around hospitality, hostage exchanges, and the ability to command respect from hosts and courts. Rewards often take the form of tokens, treaties, and official positions that can be leveraged into greater influence. To emphasize the old ways:

• Tie rewards to visible symbols (tokens, braids, standards) that can be challenged, stolen, or voided.

• Use the Bowl and Board procedure for disputes—first fairness (Bowl), then routes and concessions (Board), then a seasonal right.

• Let rival hosts issue conflicting protections, forcing players to choose whose favor matters more.

• Remember that Ykrul pragmatism is colder than southern sentiment. An ally is an asset; a debtor is a liability. Mercy is a luxury, not a virtue. The game of Kon’reh teaches that a trapped piece is dead weight—free it or sacrifice it, but never weep for it.

In Ykrul society, your word is your bond, and your bond determines whether you ride as guest or ghost.

Vilikari

Laurels & Longhouses.

We are the bridge between empire and wilderness, the marriage of law and custom. Our strength lies not in choosing one path but in walking both with equal surety.

I am a Hearth-Mother. I have never lost a quarrel. My voice is soft, my memory longer than the Foedus Stone.

The Vilikari straddle the border like a drunkard on a fence—half empire, half steppe, all headache. Their foedus treaties aren’t just agreements—they’re a tragicomic mess, half carved in marble by emperors who forgot to pay the sculptors, half braided in string by chieftains who forgot which knot meant ”peace.“ And yet, somehow, the treaties hold. Not because of the marble. Not because of the string. Because both sides are too exhausted to start the argument over again.

Never invoke only one law. The mallus (oak-ring) and the basilica (marble bench) must both be honoured. Choose one, and the other will find you—usually at midnight, usually with a writ, usually with a sword.

— Hearth-Mother Vesna, who has fed three kings and forgotten none of their debts

What do people eat for breakfast? Oatmeal with dried berries—the berries are harvested from the border scrub, where the empire’s orchards meet the steppe’s wild brambles. The berries taste of both. The oatmeal tastes of neither. The oatmeal is filler. The berries are the point.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To speak both languages—Imperial Utaran and the steppe cant. A child who speaks only one is a child who will never cross the border. A child who crosses the border is a child who will come back with stories. A child with stories is a child who will be listened to. Listening is power.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Which side of the road they ride on. The empire’s roads are measured from the center. The steppe’s paths are measured from the edge. A stranger who rides in the center is an imperial. A stranger who rides at the edge is a nomad. A stranger who rides in the ditch is a spy. The ditch is not a road. The ditch is a message.

What is the most common crime? Treaty-splitting—selling the same rights to both sides. A Vilikari factor will promise river access to an imperial merchant and grazing rights to a Ykrul clan, then collect from both and disappear before the paperwork collides. The crime is not in the selling. The crime is in getting caught before you cross the border.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Foedus Stone is a copy. The original was stolen in 712 AR by a Vilikari trader who owed debts on both sides. She melted it down and sold the marble dust as ”treaty-strengthening powder.“ The powder was mostly chalk. The treaties are still holding. The traders are still selling.

Where do people go when they die? To the border. The Vilikari bury their dead at the edge—close enough to the empire for the priests to pray, close enough to the steppe for the shamans to chant. The dead are planted face-up, so they can see both skies. The skies are different colors. The dead do not complain.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You invoke the mallus—the oak-ring court. The wronged party sits inside the ring. The wrongdoer circles it three times, speaking their apology. On the third circuit, the elders judge. If the apology is accepted, the wrongdoer is admitted into the ring. If it is rejected, the ring closes. The wrongdoer is outside. Outside is the lawless land. The lawless land is where the wolves are.

What is the most important festival? The Renewal of the Foedus (summer solstice). The stone is washed with milk and honey. The milk is from a Ykrul mare. The honey is from an imperial apiary. The mixture is drunk by the elders. The elders speak the treaty aloud. The treaty is long. The elders are old. The ceremony takes all day.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Foedus Stone has a crack. The crack was caused by a hammer in 799 AR, during a dispute over horse tariffs. The stone was repaired with clay and prayer. The clay is drying. The prayer is fading. The crack is spreading. When the stone splits, the treaty splits with it. No one knows what happens then. No one wants to find out.

Vilikari — “Laurels & Longhouses”

Key Demographics: Lethai-al Capital City: Logeton

Entanglements

To the South:

Ecktoria – Imperial clerks still claim suzerainty over the Foedus Stone; the two-laws dialectic is a full-time occupation. The Archivolt has a sealed file on every Vilikari family.

To the North:

Ykrul – Hostage strings and grazing rights are the currency of the border; the Khagan’s envoys speak in proverbs. The Foedus Stone cracks a little more each season.

To the South East:

Acasia – Broken Marches mercenaries often find work in the longhouses; the Curse of Acasia is a rumor here, but the smoke from the south smells of burning promises.

In the Amaranthine:

The Coast – Vilikari smugglers and fishermen are indistiguishable, running todays catch and contrabands past the lantern-law.

The Vilikari are mercantile: traders and smugglers, but not accountants.

Quick Reference

Tagline: Two laws, one people. The oak remembers; the marble writes. The stone is cracking.

Federate King Aldric (Elite): “We are the bridge between empire and wilderness, the marriage of law and custom. Our strength lies not in choosing one path but in walking both with equal surety. But the bridge is rotting, and no one sends hostages anymore. The stone cracks, and the cracks have no witnesses.”

Hearth-Mother Vesna (Commoner): “The old ways and new laws both have their place at our table. Serve the right mead to the right guest, honor the proper customs, and you’ll find we’re better hosts than most kings. The trouble is, the guests are forgetting why they came. The stone is forgetting their names.”

Genre / Mood: Early Holy Roman Empire on the steppe — legal dualism, hybrid identity, frontier pragmatism, forgotten treaties.

Starting Location: A longhouse quarter tucked into an old forum. Laurel garlands hang from broken columns. Smoke from a dozen hearths curls under cracked marble arches. A Hearth-Mother offers a cup of small beer and a piece of oatcake. “The Foedus Stone cracks,” she says. “The steppe listens. Which law will you speak when the Ykrul envoy arrives — oak or marble? The stone has a new crack. No one knows which promise it represents. Speak carefully. The stone is listening too.”

The Vilikari are forgotten. They do not choose between empire and steppe; they marry them, awkwardly, imperfectly, and with frequent arguments. Their halls are longhouses raised over ruined forums; their laws carved on both oak and marble; their loyalties braided like the war-maidens’ hair. They read the geometry of jurisdiction. They are the bulk of the non-elite population in Ecktoria—the legionaries’ descendants who never went home. A Vilikari blacksmith in Ecktoria might swear by the marble bench; his cousin two valleys over in Acasia still ties knots for the oak. This is not contradiction. It is survival.

But survival requires witnesses, and the witnesses are dying. The Foedus Stone, ancient guarantor of their autonomy, is cracking. Every season, another shard falls. The Ecktorian clerks have stopped renewing the oath; the Ykrul no longer send hostages. The Vilikari are becoming invisible to both sides. Their law still holds, but the witnesses are fading. The Elder of Elders speaks once a year, but fewer and fewer listen. The newest crack appeared last winter. It has no date. No one knows which promise it represents.

Some Vilikari elders still whisper the name Crom (or Krom) when they speak of the power that breaks chains.

On the coast, fishing villages double as smugglers’ coves, running fugitives, forbidden goods, and whispered messages. Their boats are fast, their pilots know every reef and patrol route, and their loyalty is to the cargo’s survival. They are the last people in the Amaranthine who still remember the old treaty’s third clause. They are not sure why it matters. They keep it anyway.

What you notice first: Woodsmoke and old parchment. The way everyone speaks two languages at once—switching mid-sentence. Longhouse roofs that use broken imperial tiles as shingles. The silence where there used to be oaths.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never invoke only one law. The mallus (oak-ring) and the basilica (marble bench) must both be honored. Choose one, and the other will find you. But now, neither may answer. The stone has forgotten which law applies—so it applies neither.

Regional Mood: The Weight of the Crack

Here, the past is a weapon and the future is a weight — the weight of a stone that remembers every oath and every betrayal. The Vilikari live in the shadow of two legal systems that no longer trust each other, and in the growing silence of a witness that is slowly forgetting. Every negotiation is a tightrope between oak and marble; every handshake is a gamble that the other party will remember which law they swore by. The Foedus Stone is not a monument; it is a timer, and its cracks mark the hours until the Vilikari cease to exist as a recognized people. On the coast, the smugglers laugh at treaties and live by the tide; in the hill forts, the old legionaries drill with ghosts; in the longhouses, hearth-mothers pour beer for guests who no longer know why they came. The stone listens. The stone waits.

In Vilikari courts, the ninth witness called to a mallus (oak-ring) is always a ghost. The wise stop at eight and settle out of court. Those who call a ninth witness find that the ghost speaks the truth — but the truth is always the worst possible version, and the living witnesses remember it as their own. The stone’s cracks are full of these truths.

Names of the Vilikari

Vilikari names blend Utaran (Utaran) roots with steppe influences: hard consonants, fluid vowels, and surnames that recall a ford, a bridge, or a longhouse.

Quick use notes

Draw until you have all four suits: Spade = place, Heart = actor, Club = pressure, Diamond = leverage. Highest rank sets the main Timer: 2–5 → 4 segments, 6–10 → 6 segments, J/Q/K → 8 segments, A → 10 segments.

Diamonds are codified outcomes (charters, rights, escorts) that change position rather than call for a roll.

If any Ace appears, echo law and bond motifs—oaths that bind, stones that witness, treaties that remember every hand—but also cracks and forgetting. The stone’s newest crack widens; the Hollow listens.

What Players Actually Do Here

The Vilikari region is about negotiation, jurisdiction, and salvage. A party in Vilikari lands will most often:

• Resolve legal disputes between oak-law and marble-law factions, often involving charters, treaties, and wergild.

• Navigate frontier diplomacy between Ecktoria, Ykrul, and the Federate King’s court.

• Smuggle or trade through contested passes, fords, and markets.

• Investigate the Foedus Stone—its cracks, its history, and the forgotten clauses that could reshape the region.

Key hooks:

• The stone is cracking. Find a witness older than the stone itself to renew the treaty.

• A Ykrul envoy arrives with a hostage string. Which law do you invoke—oak or marble?

• The March Notary has sealed a false document. Prove it before the feud starts.

Spades — Places

March Town, Villa-Fort, Old Road

2. Longhouse Quarter[Community]

The forum’s marble floor is worn smooth by dancing feet, not sandals. The ghosts of tax collectors weep in the corners.

3. Milefort XVII[Military]

Earth bank, stone gate; faded eagle over fresh knotwork. The eagle’s stone wings were reglued after a lightning strike. It still leans left — toward the steppe.

4. Stone Ford[Trade]

Plank-palings and a customs table at knee-height; border as bureaucracy. The ford changes hands every season. The customs table never moves. The wood is stained with ink and blood.

5. Villa Granary[Military]

Barracks with a tile roof; spear racks where olives once slept. The olive press still works. The pressers are now armorers. The oil is for lamps, not cooking.

6. Twin Court[Law]

Mallus ring beneath an oak, basilica bench across the lane. The oak and the bench are the same distance from the well. The well is neutral ground. The well has a chain.

7. Blackwood Road[Travel]

Milestones re-carved in runes and Utaran both. The runes say “safe passage.” The Utaran says “toll payable twice.” The third line is scratched out.

8. Staple Market[Trade] [Social]

Frontier where Ykrul horses meet Vilikari iron. The horse-traders and smiths speak a pidgin of gestures and grudges. The scales are honest — mostly.

9. Burial Field[Death]

Ship-ridge mounds beside tiled mausolea, both garlanded. The mausolea have fresh offerings. The ancestors are not picky. The ship-mounds whisper at dawn.

10. Repaired Bridge[Travel] [Law]

An arch of stone, a Vilikari trestle stitched on; past and present joined. The trestle creaks in Vilikari, the stone groans in Utaran. They argue at midnight. The toll-keeper listens.

J. Hill Amphitheater[Authority]

A lord’s hall raised in an old arena’s curve; power in architecture. The lord’s throne is a gladiator’s chair. He does not know who last sat in it. The sand beneath is still dark.

Q. New Raivon[Urban]

March capital; grid-streets colliding with wandering lanes. The grid was laid by a surveyor who never came back. The lanes are older. They move at night.

K. Dux’s Palace[Authority]

Purple awnings, wolf-hides, law tablets on the wall. The tablets list every treaty broken. The wolf-hides are from the treaty-breakers. They still growl.

A. Foedus Stone[Law] [Legend]

At a crossroads; every treaty carved, every hand weighed. The stone has grown. Each new treaty adds a finger of granite. The oldest fingers are worn smooth. The newest crack has no date.

Hearts — People & Factions

Federate, Mixed Court, Diaspora

2. Hearth-Mother Vesna[Social]

Keeper of guest-right. She has never lost a quarrel; her voice is soft, her memory longer than the Foedus Stone. She remembers obligations that are not yet owed—and the stone is forgetting, shrinking.

3. Shield-Brother Rurik[Military] [Oath]

Comitatus oath-bearer. His braids are his record; each knot is an oath kept — or broken. He has started tying knots in his sleep, hoping the stone will remember.

4. March Notary Theodora[Law]

Utaran-trained legalist. Her left hand writes Utaran, her right writes runes. She signs with her foot. A “third hand” writes in ink that no one can read—not even her. The document is always binding—until the stone forgets.

5. Horse-Reeve[Trade]

Rations pasture between plows and warbands. He measures grass in fistfuls. The Ykrul respect his arithmetic. The Ecktorians pretend not to notice. He is saving fistfuls to patch the stone.

6. Ykrul Envoy[Social]

Riding under safe-conduct; speaks obligations in proverbs. He never carries a weapon. His tongue is sharp enough. His hostage string has nine knots. He is running out of space—and the stone is running out of memory.

7. Old Legionary[Military]

Drill-master for Vilikari levies; Utar in muscle memory. He still marks time in paces. The recruits call him “Grandfather Eagle.” The eagle on his shield is chipped. He says the stone’s cracks are just more places to put his thumb.

8. Ecktorial Factor[Trade]

Vilikari blood, Ecktorial coin; flows where the market points. His coat has two collars—one for each loyalty. He wears whichever is warmer. His tally has three columns. The third column is labeled “crack width.”

9. Kahfagian Pilot[Travel]

Lantern-law chit and clan tattoo; sea-law on land. He navigates by stars and tariffs. Both change with the season. He has never been lost—only delayed. The stone’s cracks are good for smuggling.

10. Marcher-Lord[Authority]

Iron-nail crown, Vilikari law in pocket; a frontier king. His crown was a plowshare. He reversed the curse. His hands are still calloused. He does not sit on his throne. He spends his days pressing his ear to the stone.

J. War-Maiden[Combat] [Oath]

Oath-braid names the dead and the owed; vengeance as memory. Her braid is longer than her sword. Both have drawn blood. She never cuts the braid. The dead would forget her. The stone is forgetting everyone else.

Q. Queen of Marches[Politics]

Consort-regent; smiles like precedent. She married the Federate King for peace. She kept the kingdom for herself. Her seal is a broken arrow. She keeps a piece of the stone in her pocket—it gets smaller every year.

K. Federate King Aldric[Authority]

Rex-Dux sworn to forms, sung by his own. He has three thrones—oak, marble, and saddle. He uses whichever is not being argued over. Lately, all three are dusty. He has stopped arguing. He just listens to the stone.

A. Elder of Elders[Law]

Thing-council speaker; a nod can unmake a clan. He speaks once a year. The rest of the time he listens—and remembers. But his memory is cracking like the stone. He has started writing things on his own skin.

Other Prominent Figures

Smuggler Captain Drago: Vilikari fisherman and trafficker. He runs contraband and refugees past the Kahfagian patrols, knows every reef and every lantern shift, and claims the Foedus Stone’s cracks are good for business—no one checks the old treaties anymore.

Clubs — Complications & Threats

Two Laws, Two Fronts, Old Grudges

2. Annona Late[Supply] [Social]

Grain stipend misses the comitatus; tempers quicken like flint. The granary is full. The keys are in the wrong vault. Someone is waiting for the price to rise. The soldiers are not. The stone does not care.

3. Law Tangle[Law]

Mallus verdict vs. basilica writ — whose seal bites? The oak judge and the marble judge are cousins. They send each other holiday cards. The case has been open for three generations. The stone has forgotten who started it.

4. Raid Rumor[Combat] [Fear]

A Ykrul boyar; levies panic the plowlands. The boyar is a ghost—or a tax collector. The farmers don’t wait to find out. They burn the fields themselves. The stone’s cracks are good cover for ghosts.

5. Bridge Levy[Trade] [Combat]

Doubled for road-works; caravans balk, fists rise. The road-works are a ditch. The ditch fills every spring. The bridge keeper has a new sword. He sharpens it on the stone.

6. Succession Feud[Politics] [Death]

Wolf-brother claim vs. purple-charter heir. The wolf-brother has a better sword. The purple-charter has a better notary. The notary’s ink is mixed with blood. The stone’s crack drinks it.

7. Foedus Recall[Law] [Social]

A prefecture resettlement is “requested”; homes bristle. The prefecture’s map is forty years old. It shows a village that drowned. The villagers are still there. The stone remembers their names—barely.

8. Coin Talk[Trade] [Weight]

Debasement; pay demanded in salt, hides, or hostages. The salt is from a disputed pan. The hides are from cattle that were never born. The hostages are children. The stone’s cracks are full of their names.

9. Grave Offense[Death] [Omen]

A burial field disturbed; omens ride with the news. The ancestors are angry. They have a list. Your name may be on it. The list is carved on a ship’s prow. The stone’s new crack is shaped like a finger pointing.

10. Port Clash[Law] [Trade]

Lantern-law vs. street-law; confiscations bloom. The lanterns were moved last night. The old safe channel is now a reef. The harbor master is not answering questions. He is listening to the stone.

J. Warband Flip[Military] [Betrayal]

Colors change mid-pay; hostage protocol snaps shut. The hostages are eating well. Their captors are not. The captain’s new banner is stitched with his old captain’s hair. The stone’s crack has grown wider.

Q. Restoration Preacher[Social] [Fear]

Stirs crowds against the “barbarian king in purple.” The preacher’s license was signed by a dead abbot. The seal is still warm. The crowd does not know. The stone does not care.

K. General Levy[Military] [Supply]

The march is closed; markets freeze into spears. The levy notice is posted in three languages. None of them are local. The tax collector has a bow. The stone has stopped listening.

A. Spring Melt[Weather] [Travel]

Eats the Wolf Road; proofs, plans, and armies bog. The road is a memory. The ruts fill with water—and older things. The bridge keeper is fishing for boots. The stone’s crack is now a chasm.

Diamonds — Rewards & Leverage

Charter, Right, Escort

2. Foedus Seal[Law]

Settlement and stipends confirmed for a season. The seal is a bronze wolf’s head. It warms when the treaty holds—and cools when it doesn’t. The wolf’s eyes are garnets. One eye is cracked.

3. Mallus Right[Law]

Hold court under the oak and be obeyed. The oak is older than the kingdom. Its roots have seen more verdicts than the throne. The acorns are bitter. The oak’s leaves are falling early.

4. Stipend Arrears[Supply]

Paid in salt and grain; portable, persuasive. The salt is gray. The grain is from last harvest. Both are worth more than coin. The soldiers will accept. The stone will not.

5. Utaran Patent[Social]

Citizenship-style privilege; doors open, bows deepen. The patent is a worn scrap of vellum. It has been folded and refolded for a century. The seal is a sunburst. The sunburst is fading.

6. Stall-Right[Trade]

Customs favor on a frontier market line. The stall is a painted plank. Plant it, and the tax man will pretend not to see you. He will remember the favor. The stone will not.

7. Hostage Treaty[Social] [Oath]

Exchange fosters; grudges trade for leverage. The hostages are children. Their parents are patient. The treaty has nine clauses. The ninth is unspoken. The stone has forgotten the first eight.

8. Remount Allotment[Travel]

Fresh horses from royal paddocks, no questions. The horses are from the king’s own herd. They know the roads better than you. They also know the king’s secrets. They refuse to cross the stone’s shadow.

9. Wergild Table[Law] [Weight]

Recognized by both codes; vengeance priced and paid. The table is a slate slab. The prices are carved deep—and often recarved. The newest price is a year of rain. The rain is washing away the carvings.

10. Bridge Farm[Trade]

Imperial for a season; funds and friends accrue. The bridge toll is a copper a head. The bridge keeper is your new best friend. He also keeps a list of your enemies. He scratches the list on the stone.

J. Purple Warrant[Authority]

Wear the stripe; officials defer on sight. The stripe is a sash. It was a curtain in a past life. The present life is yours. Do not lose it. The stone’s crack has swallowed one like it.

Q. Queen’s Audience[Social]

Private; a whisper becomes policy. The audience is held in a garden. The flowers are listening. The gardener is a spy. The gardener is also the queen. She keeps a piece of the stone under her tongue.

K. Dux Commission[Military]

Command a mixed unit with pay authority. The commission is a baton. It doubles as a mace in a pinch. It also doubles as a receipt. The receipt is overdue. The stone has a receipt for the stone.

A. Great Law Day[Law] [Legend]

Proclaim a new concord; one temporary exception to old law. The proclamation is made at noon. By sunset, everyone will have an opinion. By dawn, the Foedus Stone will have a new finger—or a new crack.

Vilikari Mechanics

Core Timers

Witness Fading Timer [8]

Tracks the erosion of Vilikari legal authority.

Ticks when:

• The party defies a Vilikari judgment or brings a dispute to an outside court (+1).

• The GM spends 2 SB to represent a forgotten oath (+1).

• A foreign envoy (Ykrul, Ecktorian, etc.) publicly ignores a Vilikari ruling (+1).

At 4 segments: Any Vilikari NPC the party interacts with suffers –1 die to social rolls (they doubt their own authority). The stone’s cracks are visible to all.

At 8 segments: The Foedus Stone cracks completely. The Vilikari are no longer recognized as a neutral party. The Ykrul and Ecktorians begin fighting over their land. The party can reset the timer only by renewing the treaty—finding a witness older than the stone itself (a Lethai-al elder, a Trow, a ghost of the original signatory) and having them speak the oath aloud.

Two-Law Tension [4]

Whenever a jurisdictional conflict arises (mallus vs. basilica, oak vs. marble), players may step Position up by citing the Foedus Stone or an older precedent—but every use adds a tick to the Two-Law timer. When it fills, one side demands exclusive authority. The other side sharpens its knives.

If the Witness Fading Timer is at 4+, this timer ticks twice as fast.

Border Tension [Front]

Once per session, if a deal is struck with a foreign envoy or mixed-blood courtier, advance or start this front.

Market Knives [4]

At any Staple Market or Stone Ford, each time a player converts a held Diamond into a Market Edge (+1 die to all buy/sell rolls for the scene), tick this timer. When it fills, a rival factor challenges your right to trade—face a duel, a bribe demand, or a confiscation.

Feast-Bond [3] / Blood-Owed [3]

Created by the Treaty-Feast Procedure. While Feast-Bond has segments, both parties are protected from betrayal in that matter. On breach, the breaker immediately takes 1–2 SB and the timer flips to Blood-Owed [3].

Status & Environment

The Two-Law Dial (Oak ↔︎ Marble)

Track which legal tradition currently holds sway.

• Oak High: +1 Position when invoking mallus, blood-price, or tribal custom; the first basilica petition starts one step worse.

• Marble High: +1 Effect when citing charters, patents, or Utaran precedent; the first mallus oath starts one step worse.

Center the dial by offering a wergild recognized by both sides or hosting a joint moot. If the Witness Fading Timer is at 4+, centering requires a sacrifice (a memory, a name, or a drop of blood on the stone).

Frontier Diplomacy

If a Heart card involves a foreign envoy, a federate, or a mixed-blood courtier, treat the first Diamond played in the scene as doubled leverage. If the Witness Fading Timer is at 6+, the deal also ticks the timer by 1 (the stone forgets another clause).

March Markets

At any Staple Market, Stone Ford, or Repaired Bridge, Diamonds tied to rights or escorts may be cashed as currency in lieu of coin, one-for-one. Doing so creates a Stone Weight that the GM may call in later through factions or raiders. The weight is never written. It is remembered—until the stone forgets.

The Vilikari Diaspora

Vilikari characters in Ecktoria gain +1 die on Subterfuge checks (they know the back alleys and the bribes), but –1 die on social rolls with Old Blood patricians (who see them as upstarts). In Acasia, they gain +1 die on Survival checks (their ancestors were farmers here) but –1 die on social rolls with the Curse-touched (who remember imperial tax collectors). A Vilikari character may start with one “family tally”—a minor asset that tracks a single unpaid favor across generations. If the Witness Fading Timer ever fills, the tally turns to ash.

Procedures

Treaty-Feast Procedure (Fast Diplomacy)

1. Set the Table: Name 2–3 terms (what both sides want) and 1 taboo (off-limits).

2. First Cup (Position): Roll a social test; success grants +1 die to bargain, failure grants the host 1 SB.

3. Bread & Salt (Offer): Put one leverage on the table (Diamond or oath-promise). The host matches with an obligation (escort, market access, or hostage).

4. Smoke (Complication): The GM reveals a pressure tied to Old Grudges or Two Laws. Resolve it or accept a Rider Clause.

5. Knot the Braid: On success, create a Feast-Bond [3] timer. On breach, the breaker takes 1–2 SB and the timer flips to Blood-Owed [3].

6. Stone Witness: If the Feast-Bond is sworn at the Foedus Stone, reduce the Witness Fading Timer by 1. The stone remembers one more promise.

Frontier Market (Quick Trading)

At any Staple Market or Stone Ford, players may convert a held Diamond into a Market Edge. Each conversion ticks Market Knives [4]. When the timer fills, a rival factor challenges your right to trade.

If the Witness Fading Timer is at 6+, the rival factor is a ghost—a forgotten signatory of the Foedus Stone. The duel is a legal dream-duel.

Start-of-Scene Omens

Roll 1d6 at the start of a Vilikari scene:

1. Laurel Wilt: First legal action gains +1d; first boast draws Law Tangle.

2. Smoke on the Steppe: Raid Rumor advances once; shortcuts open.

3. Twin Bells: Both courts are in session; pick a side or start Law Tangle.

4. Queen’s Dove: A message arrives; +1d on the next Queen’s Audience [Leverage: Authority].

5. Gray Salt: Stipend Arrears counts double value today; smugglers’ ears open.

6. Old Eagle: An Utaran relic surfaces; Utaran Patent use is free this scene.

Crack Light (special): If the Witness Fading Timer is ≥ 4, the stone also glows. The next legal argument made at the stone is automatically binding—for both sides.

Superstitions (burn for +1 die once)

• Bread to the Stone: Crumble a crust at the base of the Foedus Stone. Ignore the first Law Tangle penalty.

• Knot the Braid: Tie a single knot in a horse’s tail. Cancel Annona Late or take –1 die on your next supply roll (your choice).

• Name to the Oak: Whisper a dead enemy’s name into the hollow of the mallus oak. Gain +1 Effect when collecting wergild from their kin this scene, but mark Obligation to the Elder of Elders.

• Press the Crack: Touch the newest crack in the Foedus Stone and speak a promise you intend to break. Gain +1 die on your next deception roll, but the stone will remember your name. The Hollow will too.

Strain Budget (SB) Spends

Minor (1 SB)

• Exposure: March officials or tribal elders take notice.

• Noise: Levy guards or market patrols are alerted.

• Trace: Trackers or treaty keepers mark your route.

• Delay: Lose a favorable legal window or crucial time.

• Supply Strain: Mark +1 segment on a relevant resource timer.

• Crack Whispers (Vilikari only): A character hears the stone whispering a forgotten promise. Test Resolve (DV 3) or mark 1 Fatigue.

Moderate (2 SB)

• Alarm Raised: The Horse-Reeve or March Notary responds.

• Position Lost: Legal challenge or border closure costs you advantage.

• Foe Appears: A rival faction or warband arrives.

• Gear Trouble: A key item becomes Compromised or Neglected.

• Lock/Barrier: A simple obstacle now requires a test to overcome.

• Witness Fading: Advance the Witness Fading Timer by 1 segment.

Serious (3 SB)

• Reinforcements: Shield-brothers, levy forces, or foreign troops arrive.

• Key Gear Breaks: A crucial tool or weapon becomes temporarily unusable.

• Major Twist: Treaty voided, levy called, or border dispute erupts.

• Rail Tick: Advance a relevant campaign/front timer by 1 segment.

• Condition Applied: Mark Fatigue 1, Harm 1, or an appropriate Condition.

• Stone Speaks: The Foedus Stone whispers a forgotten clause that invalidates a character’s legal protection for the scene.

Major (4+ SB)

• Trap Springs: A prepared danger activates with full effect.

• Authority Arrival: The Federate King, Queen of Marches, or Elder of Elders intervenes.

• Scene Shift: A raid hits, the levy is called, or a treaty breaks.

• Patron Omen: Divine or arcane forces manifest—an omen appears, a blessing is lost, or a curse manifests.

• Narrative Pivot: The story reframes your objectives unexpectedly.

• Crack Splits: The Foedus Stone’s newest crack widens. One of the party’s active Diamonds crumbles to dust.

Region-Specific SB Conversions

• Seal Crack (1 SB): A writ loses half its value until re-witnessed.

• Citation War (2 SB): Increase DV by 1 unless you produce a precedent (spend a Diamond or recall a past ruling).

• Crown Fracture (3+ SB): A treaty splits; halve a consequence by accepting a rival’s seal on your paper (start or tick Two-Law timer).

• Stone Whisper (2 SB, Vilikari only): The Foedus Stone reveals a forgotten clause. The GM must answer one yes/no question about a treaty or oath in the region.

Reputation Echoes

• Court-Favored: Once per session, downgrade Law Tangle to a minor delay; the next document you present is scrutinized (+1 DV).

• Raid-Tested: +1 Position when evading Ykrul or Black Banners; supply lines run 1 segment longer.

• Neutral Broker: +1d with both oak and marble in a treaty scene; any betrayal earns Blood-Owed [2] from both sides.

• Stone-Marked: Gained by renewing the treaty. The Foedus Stone remembers your name. Once per session, reroll a failed social roll involving a Vilikari or a treaty. The stone will ask for a memory in return.

Local Patrons

• The Two-Faced King — Mykkiel. Justice that wears a laurel and a wolf’s tail.

• The Hearth Judge — The Witness. The flame that watches both sides of the bargain.

• The Oak Father — Grimmir. The root that holds the law; the branch that signs the treaty.

• The Coin Saint — Maelstraeus. Interest on a handshake; the stone that never sleeps.

Boss Seeds (Three-Phase Foes)

The March Notary (quills like daggers)

Phases: Citation Tangle → Seal Swap → Precedent Trap.
Cracks: Produce a Foedus Seal to quiet him; a Queen’s Audience [Leverage: Authority] overrules his filing. If the Witness Fading Timer is at 6+, he gains +1 die in all phases (the stone supports him).

Ykrul Storm-Rider (wolf-cloak, bone whistle)

Phases: Raid Cry → Herd Stampede → Blood Price.
Cracks: A Wergild Table settles the feud without combat; a Hostage Treaty buys a season’s peace. He fights harder if the stone is cracked (he smells weakness).

The Prefect’s Auditor (Ecktorial ink on his fingers)

Phases: Tally Seizure → Tax Levy → Fort Closure.
Cracks: An Utaran Patent grants immunity; a Mallus Right transfers jurisdiction to the oak. He carries a piece of the stone in his pocket; if the party takes it, the Witness Fading Timer resets by 2.

The Stone’s Ghost (Foedus Avatar)

Phases: Whisper of Forgotten Clauses → Crack Widens → The Hollow Steps Through.
Cracks: Speak the original treaty aloud (requires a Lethai-al witness), repair the stone with a memory of a kept promise, or sacrifice a personal oath to feed the stone instead of the Hollow.

Lore Echoes

• The Smugglers’ Covenant (The Sealed Gate): Vilikari pilots who run the Kahfagian coast swear by a secret oath to the Unlatched Lock—a threshold that never fully closes. They leave a copper nail at every hidden cove. A captain who breaks the covenant finds that their boat will not cross the tide line; the sea simply refuses to carry them. The Kahfagian Admiralty has tried to bribe the covenant’s keeper; he accepted the coin and sank the next morning in calm water. The stone’s newest crack appeared that same night.

• Saint Theodora of the Dual Writ (The Witness): A march notary who uncovered a Fenwood spy in the Federate King’s court. She forced the spy to sign a confession under both oak and marble, then burned the oak copy and kept the marble one. The spy vanished, but his signature appears on every broken treaty in Vilikari history. Her quill is kept in the Dux’s Palace; it writes in lemon juice, and the truth it records cannot be erased by fire or water. The stone’s cracks drink the juice.

• The Host of the Two Ledgers (The Longhouse Healers): A hospice near the Foedus Stone is run by gray-robed healers who ask no payment. They treat wounded raiders from both sides of the steppe, and the Ykrul and Ecktorian captains have agreed to a truce around its doors. The Federate King tolerates them because they also hold the rite of the Unbuckled Oath—a ceremony where a knight may renounce a blood-debt without losing honor, by placing their sword on the stone and speaking a single true regret. The stone remembers these regrets. It has many.

• The Ostrikari Cousins (The Savage Heart): The eastern Vilikari, called Ostrikari by lowlanders, are no more savage than any frontier people. Their reputation comes from the bear cults of the upper Wolf Road, where initiates wear cured skins and speak in growls. The Ostrikari do not raid Vilikari villages; they trade furs for iron and send their young to serve as mercenaries in the Black Banners. A Vilikari proverb says: “The Ostrikari sharpen their teeth on stone, not on kin.” The stone does not mind. It has no teeth left.

Cross-Region Hooks

• Kahfagia (Lantern-Law): A Foedus Seal may stand in for a Safe-Conduct along a beaconed lane once. Doing so starts Port Clash [2] in the next harbor touched.

• Ecktoria (Imperial Remnants): An Utaran Patent counts as either Archive Hour (scholars open doors) or Icon License (display symbols) in Ecktorial sites—choose once per session.

• Aelerian Mountains (Pass & Toll): A Pass-Ring (from the Aeler expansion) grants priority at dwarf switchbacks; cashing it to bypass inspection spawns Stone Notice [3].

• Direwood (Breath & Bells): Spending Stipend Arrears for levee labor converts one Direwood Clubs draw into a Ward-Salt Diamond for a scene, then begins Names Disputed [3] with bell-wardens.

• Acasia (Curse & Tithe): A Wergild Table accepted by a Curse-touched village also clears one Feud Spark timer, but the Hollow gains +1 Attention.

• Lethai-al Silk Bridges: A Hostage Treaty can be witnessed by a Lethai-al silk-warden, making it binding across the Crimson Valley. The price is a strand of the treaty-bearer’s hair.

Regional Campaign Starters

Use these as immediate hooks for a Vilikari campaign.

1. The Stone That Remembers: The Foedus Stone’s newest crack has grown. The Elder of Elders is dying. He knows the original treaty by heart—but he is forgetting. The party must find a witness older than the stone itself before the Elder’s last breath. The witness is a Lethai-al elder who lives in the Valewood, and she has not spoken in a century.

2. The Hostage’s Return: A Ykrul hostage string has been returned—cut. The hostage was the Federate King’s nephew. The Ykrul claim he escaped. The Vilikari claim he was murdered. The party must find the truth before the passes close for winter. The stone’s newest crack has the shape of a footprint.

3. The Archivolt Fire: Someone has set fire to the Archivolt’s oldest wing. The seal-keeper is dead. The only surviving document is a charter granting rights to a canal that no longer exists—but the canal’s ghost is now flooding the lower cantons. The party must find the canal’s ghost and settle its claim before the flood drowns the capital.

In Vilikari society, power flows through the careful balance of multiple legal traditions, the management of frontier diplomacy, and the maintenance of complex oaths and treaties. The Federate King maintains authority through a combination of imperial forms and traditional customs, while local leaders wield influence through their knowledge of both Utaran law and tribal custom. The true power lies with those who can navigate this complex landscape while maintaining the loyalty of their people and the respect of their neighbors.

But the stone is cracking. The witnesses are dying. The Vilikari are becoming invisible.

For the GM: Patronage in Vilikari society revolves around legal documents, diplomatic relationships, and the ability to command respect from institutions that operate under multiple legal systems. Rewards often take the form of treaties, charters, and official positions that can be leveraged into greater influence. To emphasize the hybrid identity and the fading authority:

• Tie rewards to visible symbols (seals, writs, treaties) that can be challenged, stolen, or voided—and that may crumble if the stone forgets.

• Let rival legal systems issue conflicting authorities, forcing players to choose whose favor matters more. Neither may remember them tomorrow.

• Use the courts, markets, and frontier posts as arenas for social contests, where knowledge of law and custom determines success—and where the stone’s whispers can tip the balance.

• Remember that Vilikari characters are at home in Ecktoria’s counting-houses and Acasia’s hedgerow courts alike—but they are never fully trusted in either. That suspicion is their best tool. When the stone cracks fully, that suspicion becomes exile.

In Vilikari society, your word is your bond, and your bond determines whether you rule or are ruled. But a bond is only as strong as the stone that witnesses it. And the stone is forgetting.

Black Banners

Condotta & Crowns.

A contract is only as good as the next payday, and a grudge is only as sharp as the sword backing it. In this game, we sell steel by the season and vendettas by the year.

I am a Veteran Sergeant. I’ve seen three captains rise and fall in the time it takes to grow a beard, but the mud stays the same and the pay comes when it pleases.

Mercenary companies sell steel to the highest bidder—and oh, how they love a good spreadsheet. The Banner-Captains don’t just want payment; they want proof they’re getting their money’s worth, which is why they pay in safe-conducts that are good until the next battle…and utterly worthless after, once the smoke clears and the ledgers need balancing.

The camp sings when payday comes. The camp falls silent when the ledger is written in blood. I’ve heard both. I prefer the singing. At least the singing means you’re still alive.

Never break a Bell Dawn. Three bells at sunrise means bury the dead, trade prisoners, fix the wells, no ambushes. Violating it is how legends end badly—and how captains end hanging.

— Old Sorka, Veteran Sergeant, who counts scars like coins and spends them on whiskey and mercy

What do people eat for breakfast? Hardtack and camp stew—the stew is whatever was caught, killed, or traded for before dawn. The cook is called ”The Alchemist.“ No one knows their real name. No one asks.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To count coin. Camp children are taught to tally pay shares before they can read. A child who miscounts is a child who will go hungry. A child who goes hungry is a child who learns to count faster.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their colors. Every Black Banner company has its own banner—lantern, thorn, bell, fishbone, broken scale. A stranger whose colors are faded has been running. A stranger whose colors are too bright has never fought. A stranger with no colors has no company. A stranger with no company is a deserter. A deserter is a liability. A liability is a corpse.

What is the most common crime? Desertion—but desertion is not a crime, it is a negotiation. A soldier who wants to leave will sell their gear to the quartermaster, sell their secrets to the enemy, and sell their silence to the captain. The price is negotiable. The price is always ”one more season.“

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Black Colonel is not a person. The Colonel is a title held by a wax seal. The seal is kept in a lead-lined box. The box is carried by a mute lieutenant. The lieutenant signs documents with the Colonel’s thumb-print. The thumb-print is a forgery. The forger is the lieutenant. The lieutenant has no thumbs.

Where do people go when they die? To the pyre. Camp dead are burned in a bonfire of broken spears and banner poles. The ashes are scattered by the quartermaster. The quartermaster charges a fee. The fee is deducted from the dead’s final pay. The final pay is never enough.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You stand a watch. The wronged party chooses the hour—midnight, dawn, the dead of winter. You stand alone. If you survive, you are forgiven. If you do not, the debt is paid. The camp does not mourn. The camp does not forget.

What is the most important festival? Payday—but payday is not a day, it is a negotiation. The captain promises payment on the first of the month. The quartermaster promises payment when the supply train arrives. The soldiers promise loyalty until the payment comes. The payment never comes. The loyalty never ends.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Banner-Captain’s contract is written in disappearing ink. The ink was supplied by a Sidhi forger who was paid in promises. The promises were not kept. The forger is now a camp follower. The forger knows where the contract is hidden. The forger is waiting for the right offer.

Black Banners — Condotta & Crowns

Quick Reference

Tagline: A contract is only as good as the next settlement — but loyalty is earned in blood, not silver.

Banner-Captain (Elite): “A contract is only as good as the next payday, and a grudge is only as sharp as the sword backing it. In this game, we sell steel by the season and vendettas by the year. But a captain who forgets the men in the mud won’t last the winter.”

Veteran Sergeant (Commoner): “I’ve seen three captains rise and fall in the time it takes to grow a beard. The mud stays the same. The pay comes when it pleases. But the men? They remember who shared their fire and who ate alone. Keep your blade sharp and your word sharper. The camp sings? You live. They stop singing? Even the best charter bleeds.”

Genre / Mood: Mercenary realism, winter warfare, logistics-driven violence, loyalty in the mud.

System Type: Portable overlay — apply to any region (Acasia, Violet Steppe, Ecktorian borderlands). Not a fixed geography.

Ecktorian treasuries bankroll a perpetual border-war they claim to be containing. In truth, the gold keeps the fire burning. The Black Banners are mercenary leagues — ex-Utaran legionaries, second-sons, deserters, and exiles — who sell steel to the highest bidder, today’s ally becoming tomorrow’s quarry. Between them move the Ykrul steppe-clans (swift, pragmatic, oath-canny) and the Vilikari hill tribes (crafty, patient, and proud). Ecktorian ministers call it “pressure management.” The companies call it a season — and a season is measured in the rhythm of pay, but also in snowdrifts, broken wheels, and the weight of a dead friend’s shield.

What you notice first: The smell of wet wool and old blood. The way every tent has a roster pinned to its flap — and beside it, a list of the fallen. The silence when the chest is opened — and the murmur when it’s light. The way veterans watch the horizon not for enemies, but for the supply train.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never break a Bell Dawn. Three bells at sunrise means bury the dead, trade prisoners, fix the wells, no ambushes. Violating it is how legends end badly — and how captains end hanging. The dead don’t forget.

In any mercenary camp, the ninth tent in a row collapses before dawn. The ground beneath is always damp, as if something rose from below and left. Those who sleep in that tent wake with no memory of the night — but a new name carved into their belt buckle. The name is never theirs.

The Theater of Banners

Here, war is a marketplace — but also a forge, a campfire, a brotherhood of mud and steel. The Black Banners are not a single army but a squabbling league of freelance violence, bound by camp law, customs of compensation, and the shared knowledge that tomorrow’s enemy might be today’s employer. The real battles are fought in tents over agreements; the clash outside is just the review. Loyalty is a bond that shifts with circumstance — but it also lives in the sergeant who shares his last ration, the surgeon who works through the night, the captain who stands in the shield wall.

Between the rigid honor codes of Ecktorian nobility and the fluid pragmatism of steppe clans and hill tribes, mercenaries navigate a dangerous middle ground. Survival depends on knowing when to keep an oath and when to break one — always at dawn, with a witness, and with surety paid. But it also depends on knowing whose back to watch, whose flask to share, and whose name to call when the snow closes in.

Names of the Black Banners

Mercenary names are often aliases, nicknames from past campaigns, or the color of a faded banner. Surnames are rare; epithets are everything.

Quickstart (Two-Minute Setup)

1. Condotta Crossroads: Put two conflicting charters on the table. Ask: Who do you disappoint first?

2. Company Sheet: Name, Colors, Captain. Add timers: Payday [4], Supplies [4], Cohesion [6].

3. Pressure Timers: Pick two external threats (e.g., Skirmish Spiral [6], Camp Fever [6], Winter Deepens [6]).

4. Allegiances in Flux: At each scene start, roll 1d6 and apply the twist (see table).

5. Honor vs. Pragmatism Dial: Slide based on choices; affects Position, logistics, and how the men remember you.

The Four-Suit Generator

Draw until you have all four suits. Highest rank sets the main Timer (2–5 → 4, 6–10 → 6, J/Q/K → 8, A → 10). Any Ace echoes winter & loyalty motifs: hunger, omen, promotion-by-attrition, or a sudden blizzard that buries both sides.

Spades — Places (Camps, Battlefields, Fortresses)

Hearts — People & Factions

Clubs — Complications/Threats

Diamonds — Treasures & Discoveries

Each Diamond is a physical object with a cost and expiration.

Company Mechanics (Visible Tracks)

Every mercenary company (PC-led or NPC) tracks three timers:

• Payday [4] – Missed compensation, bad terms, seized chests. On fill: a squad deserts (lose 1 Supplies) or a veteran sells secrets (GM gains 2 SB). The men whisper.

• Supplies [4] – Weather, marches, sabotage. While Supplies ≥ 3, all risky maneuvers start Position –1 unless you bring a Diamond (scavenge, requisition). Hunger is a slow knife.

• Cohesion [6] – Losses, betrayals, officer feuds. When Cohesion hits 1–2, the GM may convert the first 1 SB each scene into Desertion, Brawl, or Refusal. Trust is the first casualty.

Recovery: A successful Payline Drill scene clears 1 Payday. A Quartermaster Audit clears 1 Supplies. A Rally & Reform roll (Presence+Sway, DV 3) clears 1 Cohesion. Shared hardship binds faster than coin.

Camp Event Mini-Generator (d8)

When the company makes camp or when tensions run high, roll on this table for a camp event that affects morale, cohesion, or supplies.

Allegiances in Flux (Scene Start, 1d6)

At the start of every scene involving mercenaries, roll 1d6:

1. Condotta Flip – Rival charter offers better terms. Accept: gain Black Mark [1] with old patron. Refuse: tick Payday +1. The ink is still wet.

2. Ykrul Counter-offer – Accept an exit-rich but costly route: gain +1 Effect now, mark Obligation [2]. Refuse: tick Payday +1. The wind shifts.

3. Vilikari Shortcut – +1 Effect on this maneuver via night roads; GM gains 1 SB (hostile terrain later). The path is older than the kingdom.

4. Ecktorian “Correction” – March under “imperial guidance”: +1 Position this scene or take a Black Mark for defiance. The seal is heavy.

5. False Orders – First command this scene suffers misinterpretation unless countered with a Diamond (cipher, cantor, witness). The messenger’s hands are clean.

6. Bannerless One – A myth-wrapped figure clears 1 pay segment – but starts Price of Mercy [2]. When it fills, she asks for a prisoner you’d rather keep. She was always there.

Honor vs. Pragmatism Dial

Place a two-step dial. Starting position: balanced (0).

• Honor (left): +1 Position in parley/oathbound actions; logistics burn faster (increase Supplies by 1 on a Partial where you’d normally be safe). The old songs approve.

• Pragmatism (right): +1 Effect in ambush/sabotage; social rolls start one step worse Position when oaths/witnesses matter. The men learn to watch their backs.

Centering Actions: Settle arrears on-screen, return prisoners with witness, fulfill a broken writ at cost. Move the dial one step toward center. The campfire remembers.

Black Banners Superstitions (burn for +1 die once)

• Bread to the Bell: Crumble a crust at a camp’s bell post. Ignore the first Payday Delayed penalty. [SUPERSTITION]

• Knot the Roster: Tie a single knot in the company roster. Cancel Condotta Flip or take –1 die on your next negotiation (your choice). [SUPERSTITION]

• Name to the Mud: Whisper a dead captain’s name into the latrine trench. Gain +1 Effect when rallying the company this scene, but mark Obligation to the Bannerless One. [SUPERSTITION]

Pursuit Ladder (Near / Mid / Far)

• Advance/Withdraw (Wits + Ride or Stealth): On a hit, shift one band. On a strong hit, also impose Dust Cloud (cover retreat).

• Cut the Contract (Presence + Sway): On a hit, freeze range for one exchange; if a Condotta Rider’s Pass is in your possession, +1 die.

• Weather the Blizzard (Endurance + Survival): On a hit in Blizzard Pins, you pick who finds shelter; on a miss, the GM does.

Boss Seeds (Three-Phase Foes)

• The Coin-Captain (Mercenary Turncoat) — Phases: Fair Offer → Betrayal Clause → Payday Massacre. Cracks: expose his dual contract before the company, pay off his debt to the Condotta Broker, or outbid him for his own loyalty.

• The Quartermaster-Provost (Logistics Tyrant) — Phases: Supply Freeze → Ration Cuts → Starvation Siege. Cracks: steal his secret ledger, rally the men with a shared meal (spend 1 Supplies), or break his control of the supply route.

• The Singing Wakes (Weapon-Host) — Phases: Whisper → Chorus → Scream. Cracks: perform the Three Silencing Acts (funeral honors for a fallen blade, bury a broken standard, ring the wind-break bell).

GM Tools

Field Procedures

• Colors & Countersigns: Declaring correct countersigns cancels the first False Orders SB each night; wrong signs worsen Position on first contact.

• Payline Drill: If a scene depicts orderly compensation, clear 1 Payday. If pay is “creative,” clear it but mark Black Mark – future officers begin one step colder in parley.

• Scavenge Doctrine: After battles, gain 1 temporary Gear tag or advance Supplies by 1; on a 1–2 on 1d6, spawn “Honor vs. Pragmatism” conflict immediately.

Cross-Regional Use

• Vhasia: A Condotta Rider’s Pass substitutes for a Safe-Conduct on the Pont-du-Tithe once; after use, start a Parlement Divided tick.

• Viterra: A Ykrul Safe-Conduct Token may be notarised as Ferry Priority; the notary’s fee is a story.

• Ubral: A Clan-Mother’s War-Braid counts as a Guest-Token in hill-forts; the clans will ask whose side you took.

• Mistlands: A Banner-Captain’s Seal can be presented to a Bell-Warden as proof of lawful passage; the Warden tests it with a bell. If it rings false, the mist takes a day.

• Valewood: A Field Promotion Warrant can be offered to a Green Knight as proof of worth; the Knight may challenge you to a trial of paths instead of blades.

In the Black Banners, power flows through agreements, coin chests, and the weight of a reputation — but also through the sergeant who knows each man’s name, the cook who stretches the rations, the smith who works through the night. A Banner-Captain’s authority rests on the number of companies he commands; a Condotta Broker’s on the thickness of his roster. Yet loyalty is not bought — it is earned in the mud, at the latrine, across a shared fire.

For the GM: Power in the Black Banners is measured in payday timers, broker’s favors, and the length of a duel record — but also in the camp’s mood, the quartermaster’s ledger, and the stories the veterans tell. Patronage often takes the form of dual contracts, emergency requisitions, or the Bannerless Word – each tied to a specific company, broker, or share. To emphasize the mercenary realism:

• Use the pay and supply timers as visible pressure. Let players negotiate, raid, or pledge future services to clear ticks.

• Enforce Allegiances in Flux – every scene, loyalties may shift. The Keeper’s SB pool grows when the party breaks an agreement.

• Let Honor vs. Pragmatism be a dial the party can slide through their actions. Center it by a costly act of mercy or a profitable betrayal.

• Track Black Marks as a persistent reputation score. Three Black Marks and no condotta broker will write a clear agreement for you.

• Remember the human element: the soldier who shares his last ration, the captain who stands in the line, the surgeon who weeps in private. These are the ties that outlast coin.

In the Black Banners, the camp sings when pay arrives — and falls silent when the coin chest is empty. But the camp also sings when a wounded friend survives, when the supply train arrives, when the snow melts and the road opens. The song is never just about coin.

Final GM Mantra (Black Banners Edition)

The camp sings when pay arrives — and falls silent when the chest is empty. Set DV low. Use Allegiances in Flux every scene. Let Payday, Supplies, and Cohesion be visible. Spend SB as false orders, cut supply lines, or camp fever. And remember: in the Black Banners, a broken agreement costs more than a broken blade — but a broken trust costs more than either.

The Linns

Skerries & Storm-Oaths.

The sea keeps better counsel than any scribe, and the storm remembers every oath sworn upon its winds. To rule these shores is to dance between their moods and never miss a step.

I am a Net-Wife. I tie a knot for every storm I’ve survived. My belt has thirty.

North of the Aberderrin Sea, the Linns don’t just raid and trade—they do it with the fervour of the converted, swearing oaths to storm and sea that aren’t just words—they’re leverage with a supernatural clause. They pay in stories, not silver, because to them, a tale well-told is worth more than a chest of gold…especially when it’s true.

The jarls measure their wealth in ships. The skalds measure their wealth in verses. The dead measure their wealth in how many living remember their names. I measure mine in knots. Each knot is a promise I kept to the sea. The sea remembers. The sea does not forgive forgetting.

Never name a drowned person aloud while underway. The sea collects names, and if it hears you speaking one it doesn’t recognize, it may reach up to correct the ledger.

— Astrid, Net-Wife, who has never lost a sailor to the mist but has lost three to bad stories

What do people eat for breakfast? Seal blubber and flatbread—the blubber is chewy, the bread is dense, and both are stored in the same barrel. The barrel is shared with the crew. The crew shares everything. The crew is family. Family is obligation.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To tie a knot. Linn children are given a length of rope at birth. By age five, they can tie the eight sea-knots: clew, clove, figure-eight, reef, sheet, stopper, timber, and the ninth—the one that slips when pulled. The ninth knot is for emergencies. The ninth knot is for funerals. The ninth knot is for when the sea asks for a life.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their breath. Linn sailors chew kelp to sweeten their breath—the kelp is harvested from sacred beds, blessed by the Volva. A stranger whose breath smells of salt has been at sea. A stranger whose breath smells of nothing has not. A stranger whose breath smells of copper has spoken a false oath. The sea knows. The sea will answer.

What is the most common crime? Oath-breaking—but oath-breaking is not a crime, it is a storm. The oath-breaker’s ship will founder. The oath-breaker’s nets will tear. The oath-breaker’s children will be born with webbed fingers. The punishment is not imposed by the jarl. The punishment is imposed by the sea. The sea is patient. The sea does not forget.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Sea-Queen is not a queen. She is a figurehead—literally. Her body is carved from the keel of a ship that sank in 612 AR. Her voice is a recording. Her throne is a navigation table. The jarls pretend. The jarls have always pretended. The pretending keeps the peace.

Where do people go when they die? To the waves. Linn dead are placed in boats and set adrift, weighted with stones. The stones are carved with the dead’s name. If the boat sinks before it reaches the horizon, the dead is accepted. If it reaches the horizon, the dead is rejected. If it returns to shore, the dead is cursed. The cursed wash up on beaches. The beaches are littered with their bones.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You offer a storm-oath. You stand on a cliff during a gale and swear your apology to the wind. If the wind carries your words, you are forgiven. If the wind throws you into the sea, you are not. The sea does not give second chances.

What is the most important festival? The Launching of the Longships (spring thaw). The ships are dragged from their winter shelters and blessed with blood and mead. The blood is from a sacrificed goat. The mead is from the jarl’s own stores. The ships are named after ancestors. The ancestors are listening. The ancestors approve.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Volva of the Mist is a fraud. She cannot see the future. She reads the weather—the pressure, the wind, the taste of salt on the air. The sailors know. The sailors do not care. A weather-reader is more useful than a seer. The Volva knows this. The Volva uses this. The Volva is never wrong.

Linn — “Skerries & Storm-Oaths”

Key Demographics: Humans Capital City: Straumfjord

Entanglements

To the South East (via Thin Coast):

Valewood – The portage across the Thin Coast brings iron and amber; the trees watch the passage. The portage is a treaty, not a road.

To the West (via the Aberderrin Sea):

Mistlands – The fog-bells and sea-roads are respected; a Linn raider knows which bell means “welcome” and which means “trap.” The fog is a better ally than any flag.

To the Far South:

The Dolmis Sea – Zakov and Aelinnel are destinations for trade and plunder; the tides are a better map than any chart. The sea-queen’s words carry across the water.

To the West:

The Aberderrin Sea – The ice and the deep currents define the edge of the world; the dead lie beneath the keel. The northern horizon is a silence that listens.

Region Diagnostic

Current Hook (one sentence)

Core Conflict (one sentence)

The One Thing Only This Region Does

Interactive Mechanics (player-facing)

• =0 ♠ =0 ♡ =0 ♢ =0 ♣ ♠  1 ] tvı́högg (Double-Cut Fate): Once per session, cut one thread of fate to redirect another — succeed but mark Frost Mark, or reroll sea/oath rolls but your name is added to hidden ice.

• =0 ♠ =0 ♡ =0 ♢ =0 ♣ ♡  2 ] Storm-Oaths: Swear by touching salt water; keeping grants  + 1 die on sea rolls, breaking inflicts 1 Fatigue (or 1 Harm if sworn during storm).

• =0 ♠ =0 ♡ =0 ♢ =0 ♣ ♣  3 ] Frost Mark (Weight Timer ): Every favor/gift from Linn creates a 4-segment timer; when full, community demands service (raid, story, labor). Refusal =  − 1 die on social rolls.

• =0 ♠ =0 ♡ =0 ♢ =0 ♣ ♢  4 ] Season’s Turn: GM spends 3 SB to change season; Spring (foraging/healing  + 1), Summer (combat/sailing  + 1), Autumn (social/legal  + 1), Winter (survival Desperate, Frost Mark easier to clear).

Campaign Timers (GM-facing)

• Temple Pressure [6] – Advances when: players accept Temple aid, ignore shrine offerings, or fail faith tests. At full: Bishop demands public oath of loyalty; shrine-devout suffer  − 1 Position in settlements.

• Thing Schism [6] – Advances when: jarls convert, feuds go unresolved, or oath-rings are broken. At full: The Thing splits; half the clans follow Temple law, half follow frost-law. Civil conflict begins.

• Winter Debts [8] – Advances when: players accept Frost Marks, take shelter, or break small taboos. At full: The Thing convenes; party must defend oaths or be forced into a quest to pay debts.

Faction Triad

Faction in the Realm:

The Price

Geography as Constraint

The Ninth Taboo manifestation

Current Weaknesses (honest self-assessment)

• Temple crusade needs mechanical teeth beyond “-1 die” — add Conversion [6] timer and Synthesis Tokens for blending faiths.

• Rorg/Xhak’thul syncretism needs clearer Patron mechanics — is he Storm Father (Oath of Flame) or Khemesh (Abyss)?

• Frost Mark timer needs clearer clearance conditions per season.

Theme & Atmosphere

High Jarl (Elite): “The sea keeps better counsel than any scribe, and the storm remembers every oath sworn upon its winds. But the frost — the frost is the witness. It preserves what the tide would wash away. A promise sworn in winter is owed until the ice melts. And the ice never truly melts.”

Net-Wife (Commoner): “The water speaks to those who know how to listen — the way it moves tells you if the fish are running, if the weather’s turning, or if something’s coming that wasn’t invited to the feast. My grandmother taught me to read the frost on the oar-blades. That’s how I know who will live through the winter and who will feed the seals.”

Genre / Mood: Norse coastal saga, oath-driven honor, horror of the unwitnessed death, the tyranny of seasons, the weight of wyrd.

Starting Location: A longship house lined with storm-charms and whale-bone runes, salt wind clawing at the doors. A Net-Wife binds a storm-token into a PC’s palm. “The Whale-Road sings,” she says. “But the Mistlands whistle back. Bring us three keel-lengths of ironwood from the Valewood edge, or the tide will take our boats in the spring. The frost remembers the shelter you took last winter. Pay, or the ice will hold it against you.”

North of the Aberderrin Sea, where fjords split the coast and skerries break the tide, dwell the Linn. They are traders and raiders in equal breath, their longships crowding the whale-road and river mouths. They descend the Ylolka like an axe-blade and cut into southern shores, or slip through the Thin Strip where the Valewood dares not touch salt. Yet even these storm-oath people dread the Mistlands and the Valewood, whose fog and trees have no need of ships or harbors to claim their due.

The Linn measure their lives in seasons, not years. There is a season for raiding (summer, when the seas are open), a season for planting (spring, when the frost breaks), a season for governance (autumn, when the ships are beached and the Thing meets), and a season for survival (winter, when the frost sets its mark). In winter, the fjords freeze, the longships are dragged into sheds, and the people gather around the longhall fires to settle debts, tell sagas, and wait for the sun to return. The winter debt is not a book — it is a set of carved oath-sticks, each notch a promise kept or broken, each knot a story still unfolding. When a Linn says a debt is “written in frost,” they mean it is unchangeable until the ice melts. And the ice, in the high north, never truly melts.

The gods of the Linn are not distant. Adar, the All-Father, walks the ridges in a gray cloak, his one eye watching for those who break oaths. He is a manifestation of the Oath of Flame and Light, but the Linn know him as the god of wisdom, death, and binding promises. Rorg, the Storm Father, rides the clouds, his hammer cracking the sky. He is a syncretic version of Xhak’thul (in the vein of Thor) — the patron of raiders and sailors, a thunder-god who laughs in the teeth of the gale. His cult is loud, proud, and dangerous — a Rorg devotee will swear a storm-oath by drinking seawater and shouting at the lightning. The Temple of Light calls him a demon. The Linn call him captain.

What you notice first: The smell of tar and salt fish. The creak of oars from unseen boats. The way everyone — jarl to thrall — touches a knotted cord before speaking of the sea. The oath-sticks hanging from every belt, each mark a weight carried.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never name a drowned person aloud while underway. The sea collects names, and if it hears you speaking one it doesn’t recognize, it may reach up to correct the debt. Also, never refuse a cup of winter mead — it is a test of your honor and your weight.

Prominent NPCs of Linn

Regional Tables

Spades — Places

2. Kelp-Skerry Gut — Narrow channel where oars scrape weed and rock. Kelp strands like dead men’s hair; row silently or the reef listens. [TRAVEL] [STEALTH]

3. Tide-Shed — Longship houses; tar smoke and gulls for sentries. Each shed holds a keel’s ghost; old crews sleep under the floor planks. [REPUTATION]

4. Wave-Gate Reef — Just off a raiding beach; only locals know the cut. One wrong turn and the wave breaks over you — twice. [TRAVEL] [DEATH]

5. Runestone Causey — Across tidal flat; names half lost to barnacle. Touch the stone with your left hand. If it’s warm, the ancestors approve. [LEGEND]

6. Herring-Stairs — Drying racks above cliff path; knives flicker like fish. Workers sing a counting song — eight verses, never nine. [LABOR]

7. Winter Hall — Turf walls, smoke-eye roof, benches crowded with shields. The fire never goes out. Feed it a story each night or it goes hungry. [COMMUNITY]

8. Mistlands Maze — Reed-channels braid and vanish; navigation by instinct. The reeds whisper names you’ve forgotten. Do not answer. [DEATH] [FEAR]

9. Boomed Harbor — Iron rings in whale-bone posts; controlled access. The chain was forged from a broken oath. It rattles when liars approach. [AUTHORITY]

10. Aberderrin Headland — Current rips past wreck timbers in the kelp. On foggy nights, the drowned signal with lanterns. Never follow. [DEATH]

11. Dolmis Waystation — Low isle with fresh water and old weights. The well is lined with copper. A single dropped coin returns as a blessing. [TRAVEL]

12. Thing-Holm — Flat islet ringed with stones for speaking and swearing. The stones have ears; oaths spoken here echo for three tides. The winter oaths are kept here, frozen in a block of ice that never melts. [JUSTICE]

13. High Jarl’s Seat — Above fjord, beacon tower glaring out to sea. The beacon oil is mixed with whale fat. It burns green when a storm is close, blue when the winter debts are called. [WEATHER]

14. Whale-Road Horizon — Open water where storms are born and names are made. Here, the sky meets the sea. Here, the dead meet the living. [LEGEND]

Hearts — People & Factions

2. Net-Wife — Reads sea like memory, sky like mood; weather-witch in all but name. She ties a knot for every storm she’s survived. Her belt has thirty. She is the keeper of the village oath-sticks. [COMMUNITY]

3. Steersman — Tiller-hand never shakes, even when keel does. His left ear is scarred — he listened too long to a siren’s promise. His oath-stick is notched for every life he’s lost. [REPUTATION]

4. Shipwright — Pitch on palms, schedule in teeth; knows every plank’s story. He names each timber after a dead relative. The keel is his grandmother. The ship’s burden is carved into the mast. [CRAFT]

5. Oar-Master — Sets beat that decides if home is today or never. He drums on a hollowed skull. The rhythm is a prayer to Rorg. The oar-crew’s debt is marked on his own arm — notches in the bone. [SOCIAL]

6. Mist-Pilot — Ghosts boats through marsh lanes; reed-runner with secret paths. He never blinks in fog. Some say he traded his blink for safe passage. His memory-cord is knotted, not notched — the knots are spells. [STEALTH]

7. Skald — Verses buy silence, start fights, end them; law in rhyme. Her tongue is forked — she can praise and curse in the same breath. She is the only one who can reshape a frost-bound oath — by composing a new verse that changes the meaning of a mark. [JUSTICE] [SOCIAL]

8. Shield-Band — Cousins fine with coin, better with cattle. They sharpen their swords on runestones. The sparks tell fortunes. Their oath-stick is shared — each mark is a blood debt owed to the band. [COMBAT]

9. Foster-Son — Southern coast birth; speaks both laws and subtext. He wears two brooches — one iron, one bone. Neither is his true allegiance. He carries two oath-sticks — one for the Linn, one for the lowlands. [POLITICS]

10. Thing-Speaker — Makes war into lawsuit, lawsuit into lunch. He carries a water-timer that runs on meltwater. When it runs out, so does your patience. He interprets the winter debts for those who cannot read ice. [JUSTICE]

11. Sea-Queen’s Hand — Envoy with seal-bag and sword-belt; queen’s will made manifest. He never draws his blade. The threat is enough. His oath-stick is branded with the queen’s mark — a seal that cannot be forged. [AUTHORITY]

12. Sea-Queen — Crown of hammered silver, eyes for weather and law. She lost an eye to a storm — or to a spy. She won’t say which. She is the only one who can order the winter debts spoken. [AUTHORITY]

13. High Jarl — First among raids, last to boast; paramount over strands. His beard is braided with silver from every ship he’s taken. His oath-stick is a whale’s rib — too long for anyone else to carry. [REPUTATION]

14. Volva of Mist — Oath-reader whose nod stills surf; seer of tides and truth. She speaks once a year. The rest of the time, she listens to the fog. She reads the frost-bound oaths by touch — her fingers are scarred from counting. [LEGEND]

Clubs — Complications/Threats

2. Black Squall — Drops from clear band; oars or prayers — pick one. [WEATHER] The wind screams a name. Listen carefully — it might be yours. Rorg is testing your courage.

3. Fogfall — Sound travels, sight does not; friend and reef trade places. [WEATHER] [FEAR] You hear oars. Then you don’t. Then they’re behind you. The drowned are rowing.

4. Boom Lift — Harbor chain rises; schedules drown in harbor mouth. [AUTHORITY] The chain’s links are inscribed with names of those who carry weight. Each one rattles differently. Your name is on one.

5. Levy Clash — Viterra’s wardens arrive with polite spears. [POLITICS] [COMBAT] They carry a writ stamped with the queen’s seal. The seal is still wet. The winter ice says the queen is owed three ships.

6. Keel-Rot Rumor — Crews beach mid-voyage; trust in timber fails. [DISASTER] The rot smells sweet — too sweet. Someone poisoned the tar. The ship’s mark is missing.

7. Feud Token — Raid becomes wedding…or funeral; oath-debt called due. [SOCIAL] [DEBT] A bronze ring arrives on an arrow. The meaning is clear. The ice shows the mark.

8. Oath Matured — Verse sworn last winter comes due today. [SOCIAL] [DEBT] The skald clears her throat. The room goes cold. The ice in the Thing-Holm cracks.

9. Mistlands Miscount — Channels “move,” cargo vanishes without witnesses. [DEATH] The fog lifts to reveal a different shore. Your charts are now lies. The cargo’s mark is blank — someone erased it.

10. Aberderrin Race — Contrary currents split flotilla; half late, half lost. [WEATHER] The water churns like a dying man. Something beneath is feeding. The sea remembers a new debt.

11. Southron Fire-Pots — Night-run turns to daylight; surprise ashore. [COMBAT] Pots shatter on the deck. The fire burns blue — alchemical. Rorg laughs. The raid’s memory is now fire-scarred.

12. Thing Injunction — No sailing till grievance heard (hours? days?). [JUSTICE] The Thing-Speaker smiles. He has all the time in the world. The winter oath is frozen — no one can leave until it thaws.

13. General Muster — Horns on every headland; all bays become spears. [AUTHORITY] [COMBAT] The war fleet assembles. Your ship is the smallest. Adar is watching. He counts the oaths.

14. Ground-Sea — Long, blind swell rolls under; steering lies. [WEATHER] [DEATH] The swell has a rhythm — two short, one long. A signal from below. The drowned are voting.

Diamonds — Rewards/Leverage

2. Harbor-Mark — Dock without levy in named strand (once). [TRAVEL] The mark is a notch cut in a bone. Match it to the harbor post. The notch must be cut by the harbor master’s own knife.

3. Oar-Share — Claim two benches on a fast longship for a season. [TRAVEL] The oars are carved with your name. Row well, or they’ll be recarved. The oar itself is the promise.

4. Pilot’s Token — Mist-runner guides through reed-maze safely. [TRAVEL] The token is a dried eel skin. Keep it dry. The pilot’s memory-cord is knotted in the same pattern.

5. Wharf-Right — Dolmis waystation loading priority; first ashore. [TRAVEL] The harbormaster frowns but steps aside. Your name is now on a list.

6. Salvage Claim — Flotsam on reef stretch becomes “inventory.” [TRADE] You must name each piece before touching it. The wrong word forfeits the claim. The promise of the salvage is bound to the tide line.

7. Thing Ruling [Leverage: Authority] — Verdict in your favor that travels with you. [JUSTICE] The verdict is carved on a whale-rib. Carry it as a shield. The winter ice will not speak for the same dispute twice.

8. Raid-Truce — Immunity in named bay for one market day. [TRAVEL] [SOCIAL] A white banner on your mast. No one will attack — openly. The promise of the truce is the banner rope. Cut it, and the truce ends.

9. Foster-Bond — Guest-kin by jarl’s house; hospitality guaranteed. [SOCIAL] You share a cup with the jarl. The cup is silver. The promise is iron. The winter ice bears a new mark — for both of you.

10. Herring Allotment — Priority barrels when the run hits; silver in season. [TRADE] The barrels are sealed with your mark. Break one to test quality. The promise of the allotment is the barrel hoop.

11. Escort Writ — Eight shields and wolf-banner from cape to cape. [TRAVEL] [COMBAT] The shields are painted with a wolf’s head. They die before you do. Their oath is their swords — notched for every oath kept.

12. Queen’s Audience [Leverage: Authority] — Whisper exits as policy; sea-law bends. [AUTHORITY] The Queen’s hand writes your words on vellum. The ink is her blood. The winter ice will record the audience — but not the words.

13. High Jarl’s Pennon — Levies open booms and mouths when it flies. [AUTHORITY] The pennon is torn from a captured ship. Fly it proudly — or else. The promise of the pennon is the ship’s mast.

14. Storm-Oath Clause — Temporary exception to any sea-law, sealed. [AUTHORITY] [MAGIC] The clause is whispered, never written. The sea hears and obeys — once. Rorg will remember. The winter ice will not record it — the ice cannot hold a whisper.

Patronage & Power

Among the Linn, power flows through oaths, kinship, and the spoken word — and through the marks carved in ice. Jarls maintain authority through successful raids and wise judgments, while skalds wield influence through their ability to immortalize deeds in verse — or damn names through satire. The Sea-Queen holds sway over the coastlands, but her rule depends on the respect of the High Jarl and the Thing-speakers who interpret ancient laws. And beneath all of them lies the frost-bound memory — the carved word, not the written one.

For the GM: Power in Linn society is fluid and performance-based. Patronage often takes the form of foster-bonds, oar-shares, or raid-truces — each binding the recipient to service and reputation. To emphasize this:

• Tie rewards to visible symbols (tokens, banners, verses) that can be challenged, stolen, or voided.

• Let rival jarls issue conflicting claims, forcing players to choose whose favor matters more.

• Use the Thing-Holm and harbor gatherings as arenas for social contests, where oaths are sworn and broken.

• Introduce the Frost Mark as a recurring pressure. Every gift from a Linn comes with a weight. Players who ignore their marks may find themselves summoned to the Thing in winter.

• Let the seasons change. A winter scene should feel different from a summer raid. Use the Season’s Turn to reinforce the cyclical nature of Linn life.

In Linn society, your word is your bond, and your reputation is your greatest treasure. But the frost-bound memory is patient. It waits for spring.

Temple Crusade Mini-Generators

Temple Pressure Events (d6)

Roll when the Northern Crusade advances or when the GM needs a story beat.

1. Grain Fleet Arrives. Temple ships unload cheap southern grain. Prices drop, but the old shrine offerings are forgotten. Effect:  + 1 tick on Temple Pressure timer;  + 1d on social rolls with hungry villagers for one scene.

2. Synod Court Opens. A Thepyrgosi judge hears the first case. Feuds may be settled with penance instead of blood-silver. Effect: Shrine-devout characters suffer  − 1 Position in this settlement until they prove their loyalty.

3. Bell Tower Consecrated. A bronze bell rings nine times at dawn. The old shrine bells fall silent. Effect: Temple-leaning characters gain  + 1d on faith actions; every midnight, the GM may spend 1 SB to have the ninth bell attract a hungry ghost.

4. Schoolmaster Arrives. Children learn to write Temple script. Old oral traditions are called “superstition.” Effect: The next generation will have  + 1 Temple Devotion; players may attempt a Synthesis Scene to save one shrine teaching.

5. Bishop’s Progress. A high-ranking cleric tours the coast, consecrating altars. Refusal to host him marks you as an enemy of the Light. Effect: Begin a Bishop’s Favor [4] timer; if it fills, the bishop demands a public oath of loyalty.

6. Iconoclasm. Zealots burn a seastack shrine or break a Thing’s oath-ring. The old patrons are furious. Effect: Shrine-devout characters gain a free Vengeance Oath String; weather and tide hazards become one step worse for 1d4 days.

Linn Reactions to the Temple (d12)

How a community (or a crew) responds to the crusade’s advance.

1. Desperate Acceptance. “We ate their grain. We owe them.” Tag: Grateful–Sullen.

2. Silent Resistance. Shrine offerings are left in secret; Temple priests are given cold hearths. Tag: Ice–Hospitality.

3. Open Feud. A clan declares the Temple an enemy. Raids on granaries begin. Clock: Feud with Temple [6].

4. Syncretic Curiosity. Elders ask the priest to bless a shrine. “Both fires warm the hall.” Opportunity: Earn a Synthesis Token.

5. Pragmatic Split. The jarl converts; half the thing follows, half walks out. Clock: Thing Schism [6].

6. Conversion as Revenge. A family spurned by the old patrons embraces the Temple to spite them. Tag: Bitter–Righteous.

7. Bread & Bells. The village accepts the Temple but keeps a hidden shrine to Hvı́tabjörn. Tag: Double–Altar.

8. Heretic Burnings. Temple zealots execute a shrine-keeper. The hall is now Contested Ground.

9. The Bishop’s Bastard. A priest’s secret child is now a Linn raider. String: Blood–Secret.

10. Wave-Father’s Answer. A storm wrecks a Temple grain ship. Shrine-devout see a sign. Effect:  + 2 on a shrine-related roll this session.

11. Oath-Ring Saved. A Temple judge rules that the old oath-ring is still lawful – a rare bridge-builder. Reward: Ambassador Status (one scene of neutral faith ground).

12. The Silent Bell. The new tower’s bell cracks on the ninth toll. No one can explain it. Omen: GM gains 2 SB for fog- or ghost-related twists.

Temple Missions (d6)

Quests the Temple of Light might offer to a mixed or Temple-leaning crew.

1. Recover a Stolen Relic. A shrine-devout crew has taken a fragment of the True Candle. Find it – by negotiation or force.

2. Escort the Bishop. Take a southern prelate through a contested fjord. Protect him from “pagan” ambushes – or arrange one.

3. Convert a Hall. A jarl sits on the fence. Persuade him (or his skald) that the Light is good for trade. Clock: Conversion [6].

4. Burn the Shrine. A remote seastack shrine is a navigation hazard and a gathering point for resisters. The Temple offers silver for its destruction.

5. Rescue a Synod Judge. He was taken hostage after a biased ruling. Infiltrate the clan’s winter hall and bring him out alive.

6. Forgive a Blood-Debt. The Temple wants to end a feud by paying blood-silver from its own coffers. You must convince both sides to accept – a delicate parley.

Faith Tension Scenes (d6)

Quick scene starters for religious conflict.

1. The Thinglet at the Hearth. Shrine-devout and Temple-leaning families argue over a broken betrothal. Position: Controlled → Desperate if you take sides openly.

2. Midnight at the Bell Tower. Someone has silenced the ninth bell – by stuffing it with wool from a white bear’s pelt. Complication: Spiritual Conflict Condition begins.

3. The Convert’s Shame. A Temple-leaning Linn begs you to smuggle her family heirloom (a shrine totem) out of the village before the bishop’s agents find it.

4. Storm over the Synod Court. Vélki answers a shrine-devout’s prayer with a lightning strike on the Temple granary. GM: Spend 2 SB to have a priest accuse the party of witchcraft.

5. The Wandering Skald. A singer arrives with a verse that claims the crew has a secret shrine oath. The verse is false – but now everyone believes it.

6. Dual Oath at Dusk. A dying warrior asks to swear by both Hrævkn and the Light. The shrine-keeper and the Temple priest each demand you witness only their rite. Reward: A Synthesis Token if you honor both.

Syncretic Outcomes (d6)

When players successfully blend shrine and Temple practices, roll (or choose) a lasting effect.

1. The Shared Cairn. A new shrine uses a Temple candle to light the old oath-ring. Effect: This site is now Mixed Quarter permanently; once per session, any character may reroll a failed faith-related roll here.

2. Witness of Both. The crew is known as bridge-builders. Effect: Gain Ambassador Status (convert a faith-based Position penalty into a bonus once per session).

3. The Ninth Bell Silent. The village agrees to ring only eight bells, leaving the ninth for the old patrons. Effect: Shrine-devout characters no longer suffer  − 1 Position in this village.

4. The Skald’s Compromise. A Temple hymn is set to an old shrine tune. Effect: Any Audience tag that includes “Suspicious” downgrades to “Curious” in this region.

5. Blood-Silver to the Poor. A feud is settled by paying wergild to the Temple’s poor fund – but the shrine witnesses the payment. Effect: The settlement counts as both a Thing Verdict and a Synod Absolution. The GM may not use this feud as a complication again.

6. The Unbroken Spiral. A new rite is born: a white candle and a raven’s feather are offered together. Effect: The crew gains a permanent Synthesis Token that refreshes every season (instead of being one-use).

Local Patrons (Syncretic Names)

• Adar the All-Father — Oath of Flame and Light. The one-eyed god of wisdom, death, and binding oaths. He watches from the ridges. His oath-stick is the frost-bound memory itself.

• Rorg the Storm Father — Syncretic Xhak’thul (Thor-like). The god of thunder, raiding, and the wild sea. His devotees swear storm-oaths by drinking seawater. He laughs at lightning. The Temple calls him a demon; the Linn call him captain.

• The Salted Anchor — The Sealed Gate. The harbor that never closes, the oath that never rusts.

• The Wave Mother — Raéyn. The tide that carries and the storm that answers.

• The Drowned Chorus — Khemesh. The pressure beneath the keel, the weight the sea collects.

• The Unwritten Verse — The Witness. The memory that survives the drowning.

Lore Echoes (Cross-Expansion Hooks)

• The Draugr Jarl (Unfinished Business): The Thing-Holm is haunted by a jarl who died before his oath was fulfilled. He rises when a storm-oath is broken, demanding a blood-price paid in stories. The Temple of Light has sent three missionaries to lay him to rest; all three drowned in calm water. His oath-stick is frozen into the ice of the Thing-Holm. If it ever thaws, he will walk again.

• Adar’s Ravens (The Witness): Adar is said to have two ravens, Memory and Thought, who fly across the world each day and return to whisper in his ear. A Linn skald who prays to Adar may ask one question about a forgotten weight; the GM must answer truthfully, though cryptically. The price is a memory — the skald forgets something unimportant, but it may become important later.

• Rorg’s Hammer (The Xhak’thul): The Storm Father’s hammer is said to be lodged in a cliff on the highest skerry. A character who touches the hammer and survives the lightning may invoke Rorg’s wrath once per session: all enemies within Near must test Spirit + Endurance (DV 4) or be Stunned for one exchange. The cost is that the character is marked by the storm — they will be struck by lightning at the worst possible moment (GM’s discretion).

• The Tide-Washed Covenant (The Hospice of the Salted Anchor): A gray-robed healer runs a hospice on the edge of the Mistlands, treating wounded raiders and fog-mad sailors alike. She asks no payment, but she writes every name in a book that never dries. Linn captains leave offerings of fresh water before a voyage; those who refuse find their ship plagued by the drowned. The book is said to be a copy of the frost-bound oaths — but written in salt water, not ice.

• The Ninth: In any longhouse, the ninth horn blown at a feast summons the Hollow. The wise stop at eight. Those who blow the ninth are said to see a pale figure standing at the high table — waiting to collect a weight. The figure is Adar, checking his oath-stick.

Linn Superstitions (burn for +1 die once)

• Bread to the Wake: Toss a crust over the gunwale before a voyage. Ignore the first Black Squall penalty. [SUPERSTITION]

• Knot the Oar: Tie a single knot in your oar’s leather grip. Cancel Keel-Rot Rumor or take  − 1 die on your next rowing check (your choice). [SUPERSTITION]

• Name to the Deep: Whisper a dead enemy’s name into the tide. Gain +1 Effect against his kin for the scene, but mark Obligation to the Sea-Queen. [SUPERSTITION]

• Drink to the Storm: Pour a cup of mead into the sea before a raid. Rorg will grant you favorable winds — but he will also expect a share of the plunder. [SUPERSTITION]

Quick Use Notes

• Draw until you have all four suits: Spade = place, Heart = actor, Club = pressure, Diamond = leverage. Highest rank sets the main Timer (2–5 → 4, 6–10 → 6, J/Q/K → 8, A → 10).

• Diamonds are codified outcomes (rights/tokens/escorts) that change position rather than call for a roll.

• If any A appears, echo sea-omens — horns on wind, white horses on swell, verse unfinished until landfall, the ice cracking with memory.